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Chapter Text

The door slams behind Lian, and Roy sighs into his hands. That whole conversation could have gone better, but his daughter could have taken the news much worse. Why he didn’t make this whole talk Ollie’s problem is beyond him at that moment, because he caused all this, and then Lian could be mad at her grandpa instead of her dad. 

Dragging his palms down his cheeks, Roy straightens, heading over the kitchen to make Lian some after-school snacks. Which have now become peace-making snacks. It’ll give Lian a bit of space to process it all and calm down. 

As he’s rifling through the fridge, looking for the half a cucumber he knows they had left, arms wrap around his torso. Warmth bleeds across his back, and Roy grins as he straightens and reaches a hand behind him to ruffle the head of hair leaning on the back of his shoulder. “Hey, Jaybird,” Roy greets.

“Hmmmrr,” Jason hums eloquently, nuzzling closer. He sighs, a bit of tension leaking from his muscles, and Roy feels a spark of warmth at the knowledge that he causes that. He leans back, closing his eyes and enjoying the domestic moment. 

Bats are strange creatures, but between being on a team with Dick through their teenagehood and working alongside Jason for years, he knows how to read them well. Trust is a hard-worn and rare gift for them, and yet Roy has managed to prove himself worth such trust that Jason feels safe around him. 

Safe enough that Roy gets to see just how much Jason is not a morning person. 

“Lian ‘kay?” Jason asks, and Roy sighs tiredly. He opens his eyes, finds the cucumber staring him in the face, and snags it along with the container of hummus and block of cheese. Balancing it on one arm, Roy grabs the arm around his waist and pushes it against him as he steps away from Jason. The man gets the cue immediately, stepping with him on the next step in order to move to the chopping board left on the kitchen countertop this morning. 

Roy flicks on the coffee pot on his way past. 

Settling all the food onto the benchtop, he reaches over to the knife block Jason brought months ago. Roy had always been more of a knife-drawer guy, but he has to admit the block works nicely. “Broke the news to her about Christmas, so she’s gotta digest that. She’ll come around.”

Chopping a hunk of cucumber off, Roy starts to slice it into strips. “Christmas?” Jason questions, syllables lost in the fabric of Roy’s shirt, but the intent comes across all the same. 

“Ollie’s stuck overseas on a company trip, Dinah is with him, so the whole ‘big Christmas’ isn’t happening this year. We’ll have a gathering for New Years instead, probably,” Roy explains, splitting a portion of cheese into matching sticks with the cucumber. “Lian loves Christmas, especially with her grandpa and so much of the family, and it’s the first year it hasn’t happened since she was born.”

The pot dings, and Jason presses a kiss into Roy’s jaw before shuffling over to make himself a cup. After some clinking and knocking, Jason moves around to the barstools on the other side of the counter, settling with a mug cradled in his hands and another left on the counter for Roy. 

Leaving his partner to slowly wake himself up, Roy collects the finished plate, moving over to the closed door of his daughter’s room. Normally, he would insist on her eating in the living room, but he isn’t going to push that on Lian today if she still needs space. 

Knocking, he calls a quiet, “Lian, sweetheart?” and waits for an answer. 

It takes far longer than normal, and he knocks again, but eventually there is a muffled, sullen, “come in,” through the wood. Breathing a small sigh of relief that he isn’t subjected to pointed silence, which used to be Lian’s favourite passive aggressive measure, he gently opens the door and nudges it open. 

There’s no sign of the girl at first, and Roy frowns. Confused, he scans the room, before noticing the slightly ajar closet door, allowing light from the window into the space, and he feels his mouth quirk into a tiny smile despite himself. 

Walking closer, he pulls the door further open, the light falling onto the pile of plushies that live in the corner beneath the clothes rack. Amongst the plush forms is the head of Lian, hair askew from where she’d been lying on it, squinting up at him. She takes him in, then focuses on the plate, which Roy settles onto one of the firmer, flatter soft toys, rocking back into a crouch at her level. A small hand snakes out from under a yellow Pikachu, snagging a cucumber stick and swiping it through the blob of hummus. 

“You ready to talk about it, yet?” Roy asks. Lian shakes her head, and Roy blows out an exaggerated sigh between his lips. It turns into a raspberry, which draws a quiet giggle from the huddle of a girl. 

“‘M sorry for slamming the door,” Lian murmurs. She’s still got words on the tip of her tongue, so Roy waits for her to piece them together. “Did I wake up Jay?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright poppet. There’s much worse you could have done. Although you might want to apologise to Jason for interrupting his sleep,” Roy responds. “Do you want to stay in here for a bit longer?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Love you,” Roy says, receiving an echo in response, and he pulls the closet door back into place. Standing back up, he leaves the room and drifts back to Jason’s side where the man sits at the counter, looking a bit more awake and with the program. Roy kisses him on the cheek on his way past, scooping up his mug from where it was left to cool and taking a deep sip. 

Gathering up all the leftover pieces from assembling the snacks, he returns them to the fridge, and turns back to give Jason a proper examination. 

The man is still shaking off the last grasps of sleep, staring into the drink he leaves resting on the counter, palms curled around the mug. His hair is messy, falling in frizzy waves across his forehead, the stark streak of white only glimpsed amongst the fluffy pile. The bags beneath his eyes are a little deeper than usual, and Roy wonders how long he’d have slept in if Lian hadn’t woken him up by accident. Wearing one of Dick’s old sweaters — That thing is far too old, Roy remembers that from the Titans. Does Jason even realise it was his brother’s? — and a pair of Roy’s sweatpants to boot. He does that as a safety thing, Roy’s pretty sure. 

Overall, he looks much better than he did at four in the morning. Good.

“What?” Jason asks, squinting in what is supposed to be a suspicious display. Instead, he just looks vaguely disgruntled. Like a cat with its fur askew. 

“Nothing,” Roy answers mildly. 

“No, not nothin’,” Jason refutes, rolling his eyes. “You got that look about ya.” The crime-alley drawl sits heavy on his tongue, weighing his syllables and giving his voice the gravel Roy so enjoys. While Jason stopped hiding his accent around Roy years ago, it’s completely different when his voice is rough, deep with sleep that enhances the general Gotham growl. 

Roy hadn’t experienced a true Gotham accent before Jason showed up in the pixie boots, years ago. Dick speaks in a variety of accents that all swirl together, sharpening on specific words and softening with an undercurrent of Romani. The Gotham really comes out whenever he’s shouting. Or swearing. Something he did much more in his teenage years than he does now. 

Batman just sounds like he gargled gravel. Constantly. Although in the few snippets of unguarded speech Roy has catched, his vowels are far more crisp than the average Gothamite. The Bristol accent, or as Jason called it when Roy asked, the Rich-Prick accent, is far less abrasive to the unfamiliar ear. 

Then along came a thirteen year old with not only a true Gotham accent, but a crime-alley one on top, which Jason insisted all those years ago as being an important distinction. Roy avoids that toxic city as much as he can, even knowing Batman and Wayne Enterprises have made leaps and bounds in the efforts to make it far more habitable, so he hasn’t experienced a baseline Gotham accent to this day.

“Do I have somethin’ in my teeth?” Jason says, and Roy smiles back at him. He has no doubt his grin is goofy as all hell, but he enjoys seeing the man in these domestic moments just as much as he enjoys watching him in action as a vigilante. 

Red creeps across Jason’s cheeks, and he hunches slightly into his shoulders as Roy continues to stare unabashedly. “Quit it, Roy.”

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the sight of you?” Roy teases, and Jason only blushes further. It’s hilarious how easy it is to fluster his partner, never will he let Jason forget the time he panicked at the advances of a flight attendant and told her he was going to a funeral, and in the safe privacy of their home Jason doesn’t hide his reactions for any reason other than lighthearted embarrassment. 

Roy leans closer, over the counter, propping his face on the palm of his hand, elbow planted on the benchtop. He’s really milking it now, but it still riles Jason up. He breathes a quick, stuttering gasp, before reaching forward and shoving Roy back by his face, sending him flailing as his neck clicks. “Yer fuckin’ ridiculous,” Jason grumbles, and Roy laughs.

Straightening, Roy takes another drink of his coffee through a smile, and Jason clears his throat. “Figured I’d make a stir-fry for dinner,” He says, and Roy allows the conversation to move forward.

“Sounds great.” Roy finishes his mug, taking Jason’s empty one and rinsing them before stacking them into the dishwasher. “Chicken?”

Humming in agreement, Jason gets up from the barstool, disappearing into their bedroom. Roy finishes up, and then moves to the couch, settling in and checking his phone. There’s a couple notifications on the family group chat, and he opens it to see Dinah had posted a photo of Ollie frowning at a display of gingerbread cookies depicting various members of the JLA. 

The next photo is of Ollie grinning at Dinah past the camera, holding a gingerbread Green Arrow in his hands, complete with a bow. 

Huffing a laugh, Roy saves the photos to show Lian when she’s in a better mood. Maybe somewhere in New York does something similar? He should get her a Batman, just to piss Ollie off. Lian might actually be on board, if she still harbours a grudge about the cancelled Christmas party. 

“What are you laughing at?” Jason asks, and Roy looks over as he settles onto the couch next to him. Obliging, he shows the other the photos, Jason chuckling with a roll of his eyes. “I’m surprised they made him. What kid wants the Green Arrow cookie?” Roy shoves him lightly on the shoulder, taking his phone back and reading the rest of the messages.

“Dinah says that they had a lot of the cookies, and Ollie thinks that it’s because he’s really popular. She hasn’t had the heart to tell him the truth,” Roy reads aloud, before cackling. “He’s so happy that they had to make extra of him.”

“That’s the man that runs a multimillion dollar company?” Jason asks, sarcastically, and Roy laughs brightly. “The empty trays of Bats, Supes, and Wonder Woman didn’t tip him off?”

“Hey, your family are the ‘world’s greatest detectives’. We just shoot things,” Roy argues, kicking Jason gently with his foot. “I’d like to see you land an explosive arrow from two hundred feet away, both of you running.” 

“See why would I do that when I can just use a grenade and a bullet?”

“If you can’t respect the family craft, then I can’t be in bed with the enemy,” Roy says, sniffing haughtily. Jason rolls his eyes.

“You can’t keep your hands off of me when you’re asleep,” Jason grumbles, pointing an accusing finger. “It’s awful in summer.”

“Oh you love me and my cuddling,” Roy retorts, enjoying the back-and-forth. Jason hums an unconvinced note, and Roy tugs him up and closer, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth. Despite his mock argument, Jason returns it readily, deepening it in turn. 

Before they get too carried away, there’s the click of the door, and they pull away to see Lian standing in the open doorway, shifting on her feet. She glances up, and lights up at the sight of Jason. “Dad!” 

“Hey, munchkin,” Jason returns, smiling and shifting back in preparation for the inevitable. Sure enough, Lian sprints forward, leaping and tackling him back into the couch. Lian squeezes him, squeaking as she does so, before pulling back and looking him in the eye. Roy watches the two, as at ease as always at the sight of his two favourite people together in front of him. 

Lian turns serious, eyebrows crinkling slightly. “I’m really sorry for slamming the door and waking you up.” Roy watches his partner soften, practically melt at the apology, and is slapped with the reminder of why he is the hard parent here. Jason is well and truly wrapped around their daughter’s finger, that's for sure. Jason accepts the apology with at least a little grace, and then Lian turns to Roy. “I’m ready to talk about it now,” She declares, and Roy smiles at the authority in her voice. 

“Okay,” Roy agrees. “What’s on your mind?”

“Mum,” Lian says, pulling no punches, and Roy blinks. It’s out of left field, but Lian seems to know where she’s going with this, so he nods encouragingly. Jason looks vaguely uncomfortable, but shows no other signs that he needs an escape, so Roy lets him be. “Mum doesn’t want to see me. Or come on Christmases. Now Grandpa doesn’t want to either, so he doesn’t want to see me, and I don’t…” Lian trails off, voice thick as tears collect on the corners of her eyes. Roy feels an ache in his chest, and he leans forward to scoop Lian into his lap. 

She cries in earnest now, and Roy rubs her back as she hugs him tight. He’s always made an effort to not let his own feelings about Jade be known by his daughter. Someday, when she’s older, he’ll be open about that part of his life, but as it stands she doesn’t need to hear about those years or his less than favourable opinion of her mother. In this moment, he hates Jade, irrationally and irrevocably in a way that a scorned parent does. 

Flicking his gaze to Jason, the man is watching with a pained expression. Roy shoots him a strained smile, and Jason gestures with his head to the bedroom. Roy shakes his head, and Jason appears relieved. 

When Lian has calmed some, Roy pulls back, allowing him to look her in the eyes. “Lian, what happened with your mother is very different from what is happening here. Grandpa isn’t leaving forever. Sometimes, life gets in the way of seeing our family as often as we would like, and that’s what happened to Grandpa and Grandma. They would be here for Christmas if they could, but because they can’t be, we will see them at a different time. It just won’t be on Christmas. Family means we make the time to see each other, even if it isn’t as soon as we hope.”

Lian sniffles, and nods. “I don’t want Grandpa and Grandma to leave. Or Uncle Connor. Sophie asked about what mum’s family was doing, but I don’t have another family like she does.”

“And that’s okay, sweetheart. You’re always gonna feel sad about that. It’s important that you don’t let it control how you feel about the family you do have. Okay? We aren’t going anywhere. Definitely not without you. Besides, does Sophie have a Grandpa who can shoot an apple off your head?” Roy adds, voice turning upbeat. It’s one of Lian’s favourite stories, making it almost worth the complete heart attack Roy had had when he walked out of the bathroom and saw that particular scene.

Giggling, Lian shakes her head.

“Do your classmates have an awesome dad like me?”

“No!” Lian squeals, grinning toothily. “Sophie’s dad works in money! She doesn’t even have two dads like I do!”

Roy laughs, pulling his kid into his chest. Lian giggles along, and when they’ve both laughed enough they pull away and Roy ruffles her hair. “We’ll have a great Christmas just us, okay?”

“With Jay-Jay?” Lian asks, looking over at the man in question. Roy follows her gaze, only to freeze when he meets his partner’s gaze. Jason’s green eyes are wide, expression stiff with bewilderment, giving the distinct impression of a deer in headlights. Roy rifles through the conversation they just had, trying to figure out what has thrown the man so off kilter, but everything they talked about is old news to Jason. 

When Jason realises they both are watching him, Lian expectant and Roy concerned, he schools his expression into one of excitement. “Course, Lian!”

That satisfies Lian, who begins chattering on about all her ideas for festive activities, but Roy remains unconvinced. He keeps a steady watch on Jason, who meets his gaze and gives a tight smile. He’s rattled, but the why escapes Roy. Tilting his head, Roy asks, but Jason just shakes his head, waving off his concern for later.

“I’m going to get dinner started,” Jason decides, standing up from the couch. As he walks around the back of the couch, Lian springs up, clambering over to Jason for a hug and kicking Roy sharply in the stomach in the process. 

“Oomph,” Roy groans, not breathing fully until Lian is satisfied with her hug and settles back on the couch next to him. “You’re killing me, kid,” He says, and Lian laughs. 

“You can’t die. It’s close to Christmas!” Lian chirps, and Roy chuckles. “You can die after Christmas,” She says, nodding sagely. 

“Ah, but then it’s New Years!” Jason chips in, and Lian gasps before humming in contemplative agreement. 

“Is there anything after New Years?” Lian wonders aloud, and Jason snickers as he begins chopping something. Roy twists slightly, letting him have both of them in his field of view, resting his back against the arm of the couch. “When’s Halloween?”

“Not till October, sweetheart,” Roy answers. “Remember? We had it before Thanksgiving.”

Lian seems to actually remember this, rather than just nod along like she used to do, and she visibly wracks her brain for any other holidays she can remember. “What about Falentines?”

“Valentines,” Roy corrects gently. 

“That’s what I said.” Roy rolls his eyes, but doesn’t comment on her remark. Jason tells her it’s in February, to which she responds, “Then you can’t die in January, because Jason will be sad, and he can’t be sad on the love day.” With logic like that, who are they to argue? 

They move to Easter, where Lian says Roy needs to be alive to let the Easter Bunny into the apartment to hide the eggs. Roy has no idea where she got that from, she’d never questioned how the Bunny actually got in to hide the eggs, so Roy never had to come up with an excuse, but it seems to all work within reason for the kid. 

In the following months come various family birthdays, eventually looping back around to Christmas. Lian frowns at all this laid out before her, before looking Roy directly in the eyes with far too much intensity.

“Daddy.”

“Yes?” Roy asks, feeling vaguely nervous. 

“You can never, ever, die,” Lian orders, and Roy licks his lips around the urge to laugh. She breaks first, her giggles dissolving his resolve. When she recovers her breath, she clambers down and runs off, begging Jason to let her help with the stir-fry. 

Exhaling the last of the laughter from his lungs, Roy turns  to watch the two in the kitchen, as Lian drags over her designated stool and pops up between Jason and the bench, little fingers curling over the edge as she surveys what her father is up to. Jason adjusts to the helpful shadow with practiced ease, narrating what he’s doing and guiding her grip on the knife to chop zucchini.

As the night ages, he soaks up the domesticity of the evening, and decides that maybe the smaller Christmas won’t be so different afterall.

Chapter Text

A week later, Roy and Jason are elbows deep in cataloguing a seized weapons shipment when Jason brings up the conversation on Christmas. 

“Elle seems to be takin’ the change in Christmas in stride,” Jason comments, and Roy glances over. With the helmet on, Jason is much harder to read, but the two of them have worked together long enough that Roy can examine the subtext behind what his partner says through other means. Shoulders lax with faux nonchalance, Jay reaches for the next gun, fingers dancing along the mechanisms as he determines the specs of the weapon. Something isn’t quite settled about him, but he isn’t ready to bolt. 

Feeling the click in the gun, he disassembles another piece before responding. “Yeah. She adores Christmas, in any form,” Roy chuckles, finishing with the piece in his hands and pulling out a new rifle. The running total in his head is certainly getting up there, he’s glad they waited until the later shipment before swooping in. Not that he’ll let Jason know, he’ll have to deal with his smug ass for weeks. “So long as she’s with at least some family, she’s happy, and she has her two dads as consolation prizes for the lack of her Grandpa,” Roy jokes, rolling his eyes. 

Jason makes an odd, wounded noise, and Roy snaps his gaze to examine him in the limited light. Did he miss a hit while they were incapacitating the traffickers? Jason is never upfront about his injuries so it’s up to Roy to be vigilant about that shit. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’!” Jason says, voice ticked up in what is quite decidedly not nothing. Roy waits expectantly, and the other squirms for a minute before giving in with a sigh. “I’m Elle’s other dad.”

Roy blinks. What? “Yeah?” This is not new information? Placing the piece he was disassembling on the floor, Roy wanders closer, slightly cautious. Stopping just within arm’s reach, he waits his partner out, watching Jason wrestle with the paranoia around vulnerability that still kicks his ass. “Jay, what’s going on in your head?”

Huffing a sharp breath, Jason tugs at the mechanism of the gun he’s halfway through, before dropping it to clatter on the floor. Spinning around, he meets Roy head-on.

“I don’t… It feels real now,” Jason snaps, and Roy purses his lips. Anyone else, and he would have gone right to teasing. What, it didn’t feel real when Lian called him dad for the first time? Didn’t feel real when he went to a parent-teacher conference in place of Roy who was taken out by a concussion? Didn’t feel real when Jason began accompanying Roy to family gatherings with the Queens? 

But it’s Jason. Jason who struggles with what family is supposed to be, who struggles with the concept of unconditional love and support, who sometimes doesn’t feel wholly real and present in the moment, who struggles with being vulnerable, even to Roy sometimes. So Roy waits for Jason to speak his mind, to try and figure out what he’s trying to get across.

“I’m terrified. I don’t want to be like my fathers. I can’t imagine hurtin’ her like that, but I don’t— I will. She doesn’t… She’s so good. How could I even think of bein’ a support system for her? This is suddenly so serious an’ I’m going to fuck it all up like I always do.”

Despite the situation, and his attempts not to, Roy snorts. Jason’s mask swivels to look him dead in the eyes, an air of bewilderment about him, and he laughs properly. “I’m sorry,” He gasps out, between bouts of cackles. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Just— Just how much you sound like a parent,” Roy stumbles over the words, but Jason cautiously lets go of his urge to retreat from the conversation. 

Roy gasps through deepended breaths, getting himself under control, before straightening and looking at Jason directly. “Welcome to being a dad, Red. Get used to those doubts, they’re signs you’re a good parent.” Jason wasn’t there when Lian was first dropped on Roy, who was an absolute mess and a half. Pure fear and coffee is what allowed him to survive as he adjusted, because here was this tiny human who was so fragile and completely dependent on him, and he had to be the best he could for her. For months, he had nightmares about some of his worst memories with Ollie, except it was him doing that to his daughter. 

It took a long time to get to where he is, sure of himself and his parenting, and even then doubts still dog at his steps. They always will. 

“What the fuck.” Jason mutters, and Roy cackles. Was this what he sounded like, to his family? How did they not laugh right in his face? 

“You are a great dad, Jay,” Roy says, grabbing his partner’s hands. “I wouldn’t let you around Elle if I didn’t wholeheartedly believe that. It will get easier, and one day I hope you can be confident in how good you are at this, but in the meantime, know that I’m around to pull you up if you slip.” 

Digesting these words, Jason rolls his shoulders, nodding decisively to himself. It’s so Bat, but Roy doesn’t dare point it out in this moment. Roy begins to slip his hands away, only for Jay to abruptly stiffen and tighten his previously lax hold on him. Instinctively, Roy freezes as well, listening for any sign of movement behind him. 

“Red,” Jason says, voice slightly desperate. Opening his mouth to ask for more information, Roy is cut off by Jason who continues with, “My family doesn’t know.”

“Huh?”

“My family doesn’t even know I have a boyfriend,” Jason says, facepalming only to hit his helmet in a display that amuses Roy to no end. “Dick doesn’t know I’m with you.” 

Oh. Yeah. Okay. Now Roy is getting why Jason feels doomed here. “Dick doesn’t even know we’re married,” Roy adds, corrects, whatever. Fuck. How did it never come up? Lian has seen Uncle Dick a variety of times, but he was always her Uncle in the same way that Wally is. He’s going to have to explain that to her. 

“Elopin’ was such a good idea,” Jason comments, and Roy laughs. It’s breathy and slightly hysterical, but he enjoys it. Jason huffs along, letting go of where they’re still holding a hand and picking up the gun he dropped at his feet. 

“Your family are literally detectives. Surely they’ve pieced it together? You’ve worn your wedding ring for months now,” Roy says, and Jay nods along. “It’s not like you’ve hidden it, right?”

“No, ‘course not. Just never came up in conversation.” Roy winces, but chooses to believe the easier idea that the Bats were just unwilling to bring up Jason’s dating life. Surely. 

Grabbing a fresh gun from the container, Roy settles in next to Jason, placing it on the rickety bench top that is cleared of the blood Jason smeared across it. It was only a broken nose, but the thug had screamed like he was being skinned alive. 

They work alongside each other, disassembling all of the guns, tallying as they go. It’s an old trick, one Jason brought with him to their missions together years ago. Disassembling the guns means that each of the pieces have to be bagged separately as evidence, preventing dirty cops with sticky fingers from lifting some of the pieces on the scene. Makes it work the long, tedious process it causes with each bust. 

A little over two hours later, their numbers on the shipment matching up with the expected value, Roy jumps on Jason. He wraps his arms around him, hand slipping to the man’s waist and pulling out the grappling gun that lives there. Firing it into the broken skylight, he waits for a clunk of contact, pressing the trigger to tighten the line. “Ready to bounce?” He asks.

“Alright,” Jason agrees, and Roy holds the trigger to send them rising into the air. 

Once they’ve cleared the jagged edges of glass, Jason shifts, pulling them onto the flat of the rooftop. Roy clicks the mechanism he added to the grappler, sending a sharp jolt of force down the line, pushing the hook out of the bar it connected with and back over to connect with the muzzle of the gun. “I’ll call it in,” Roy says, and tosses the gun back to Jason as he pulls out his phone with his other hand. “How many rounds of ammo did you take?”

Jason no longer acts innocent to the question, they’ve been through that rodeo too many times. “Eleven.”

“Cutting back for the holiday season?” Roy jokes, receiving a shove on the shoulder before Jason moves off. He dials the number.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Twelfth and fourteenth, abandoned warehouse, 1,034 guns total, 2,495 rounds of ammo.” Roy gives, hearing the spluttered confusion of the operator before hanging up the call. Grinning, Roy pockets the gun again and moves over to stand with Jason, who is looking over the edge of the building.

For a moment, they just stand there, enjoying the night air. Slight scatterings of stars stare down at them, and it’s times like this that make Roy miss the reservation. The lack of light pollution made for a far better night view, that’s for sure. Even Star City had more stars visible. 

“We should—” 

“What if—”

They both chuckle at their talking over each other, and Jason waves Roy ahead. “We should leave, before the cops come,” Roy says, reluctant, and Jay gives a noise of agreement. Neither of them move for a moment, Roy’s breath fogging their air in front of his face while Jason’s streams out either side of the jaw of his helmet. 

Then Jason twirls his grappling hook on his pointer, aiming it at the next rooftop and firing the line until it is taut. He turns to Roy, and salutes jauntily. “See you back home, Arsenal.” With that, he retracts the line, sending him sailing through the air. Roy curses, fumbling to grab his bow from where it’s slung across his back. 

“Cheat!” Roy calls, the only response he receives back being a loud cackle. Loading a grappling arrow into his bow, he releases the line, his mind sinking into the thrill of the chase.

Racing across the buildings of Manhattan, Jason is gracious enough to allow Roy to catch up slightly before he begins to take an erratic path, trying to gain distance again. Matching him step for step is comforting, familiar, as Roy takes shortcuts and skips buildings where needed in order to keep pace and try to close the gap between them. It makes the trip back feel far less long, instead of calculating how long left Roy calculates how best to try and make up for Jason’s head start.

As they get close to their apartment, they both turn much more underhanded in their methods. Roy fires an arrow that slices past Jason’s head, throwing his next release of the grappling line off by a few precious inches. In retaliation, Jason fires his grappling line at an angle, crossing over Roy’s current line and tugging it as he flies past, dislodging the anchor arrow. 

“Asshole!” Roy shouts, firing a new arrow to catch him as he plummets to the ground. 

“You started it!” Jason snips back, and Roy growls to himself as he rolls onto a lower rooftop in order to recover.

Nevermind the fact that Jason started this whole chase by playing dirty. No sportsmanship, Jason grew up playing quick and dirty, just like Roy. So, Roy waits, crouching in the shadows of the taller buildings which surround the roof he’s perched on. He pulls out a trick arrow, nocking it loosely on his bow and keeping the string lax.

Sure enough, Jason loops around, landing on the roof and looking for his missing presence. “Ars’nal!” He calls, after finding empty silence. “Hey!”

Grinning sharp, Roy pulls the string taut, releasing it and sending the arrow embedded into the concrete next to Jason. The stream of smoke pools at the end of the flight, enveloping Jason and billowing out to try and do the same to Roy. 

Turning and firing the grappling arrow he had pulled out of his quiver earlier, he swings to a new rooftop, calling out his goodbye as he escapes. 

Roy beats him back to their building, and is sitting patiently on top of the roof access as he waits for Jason to arrive. When the shadowed figure of Red Hood lands in front of him, Roy kicks out with a cocky grin. “I. Win.”

“You played dirty,” Jason growls, unclipping his helmet which releases with the sharp hiss of decompressed air. He keeps the domino on, moving closer and lobbing the helmet at Roy’s head. Catching it smoothly, Roy jumps down to his feet, opening the door and gesturing Jason ahead of him. 

“You gave yourself a head start,” Roy reminds him. Scoffing, Jason sweeps past him and examines the hallway beyond, before stepping in and heading to their door. It’s the first door on the left, chosen specifically for its easy roof access, and during the graveyard hours there’s no one around to see them in full get-up. 

Ushering Jason inside when the man unlocks the apartment door, Roy disables the patrol security and activates the regular measures. Jason yawns, retreating to their bedroom and coming back with mask solvent. He uses it, and then holds it out for Roy to do the same.

As he’s worming the thick liquid between his skin and the fabric of the domino, Jason lingers, a fact that is only distantly recognised by Roy in his act of great concentration. He despises this part, because he can never get it smooth or seamless. Something that has become a problem when he has a civilian identity, with a civilian job, to be normal for. Ollie always argues it’s because he’s too impatient when applying the mask adhesive in the first place, overdoing it, but Roy stipulates that it is constantly out to get him. 

Honestly. All the advancements in the superhero community and its tech and yet—

“What if we spent Christmas with my family?” Jason asks, voice mild, and Roy drops the bottle with a small clatter. He hisses a curse, scooping it back up and rubbing at the dripping sensation on his eyebrows. 

“Jaybird, you can’t just say that while a man is trying to get their mask off their face,” Roy says, feeling a little hysterical. Jason is tenuous in contact with his family at best, he’s spent Christmas tagging along with Roy and Lian for the past few years, and now he is not only wanting to spend it with his ‘shit-show of a family’ — his words, not Roy’s — but have Roy and Lian there?

Sighing, Jason steps into him, grabbing the bottle and Roy’s chin with his other hand. He tilts his face up, and begins working at the edges of the mask with the solvent. Roy squints at him, turning the idea over in his head. “I thought you didn’t spend Christmas with your family?”

“I haven’t. I can’t deal with… them… when we’re pretendin’ to be some semblance of a cohesive family,” Jason huffs, his nose scrunching slightly. Roy pushes down his thoughts about how cute that is and focuses on the important feelings conversation that is occurring right now. “Not alone. It brings back too many memories. It’s easier when there’s somethin’ goin’ on. Us vs them. Otherwise it becomes everyone havin’ all these arguments an’ history an’ I feel the gap. Between who I used to be an’ who I am now.”

Humming, Roy understands it, in the abstract at least. Jason’s family didn’t get to watch him slowly change over the years. Instead, they had the black and white of Before and After, no murky grey of growing up. Add in the weird martyrdom that the Bats are prone to, child death, and the shit Jason did when he was unstable and brought back from the dead… He can see why that would be a lot. 

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re—” Roy cuts himself off with a hiss, Jason peeling away a chunk of the mask. Jason calls him a baby, but Roy decides in his infinite kindness not to respond to that. “—not comfortable with. I have no doubts Lian would adore Christmas there, but it isn’t worth it if you’re rushing into something.”

Jason bites his cheek, an old habit from his childhood, and eases another bit of the mask off. “I think I want to spend Christmas with them. Dick has been houndin’ me about it for years, it’d be nice to see Babs outside of a crisis for once, an’ Alfie… Alfie always insisted on Christmas happenin’ with the whole family. It’s the one time of the year he actually eats with us.” His vision clouds with nostalgia, and Roy smiles gently at his thoughts. He can read the yearning, in between those words, but that doesn’t make him less worried for Jason. Jason has a horrible habit of giving people what they want, and when Bruce and the wider family want to see him as a bad person, Jason plays into that far too readily. 

Of course Jason wants to see his family on Christmas. It’s a family holiday, and Roy’s happy he wants to try and have a closer relationship with them, but if it’s going to send him backwards, should Roy encourage him to try?

The last of the mask comes away in Jason’s hands, and Roy gets an idea. “Nevermind, it’s alright if you’re not comfortable with it,” Jason mutters, shrinking away, and Roy strikes out a hand to grab Jason by the forearm before he can take a step. 

“I really want to do it too,” Roy tells Jason, and it gets him to stop resisting Roy’s gentle grip. “I’m just not sure if it would be good for you if we do. I mean…” The track history is not all that promising. But the more he’s thinking about it, the more he wants to have Christmas with Jason’s family. Lian would absolutely adore seeing she has family closer to her in age, as well as having yet another rich Grandpa. God, she’s going to be so spoiled.

“Alright, how about this,” Roy says, taking a breath. “One step at a time. Call Dick, have him come over, talk with him about this. Lian always loves seeing him.” 

Jason nods, a smile creeping onto his face. “I suppose it’s worth Dickhead being the first we tell. If he doesn’t already know.” Roy rolls his eyes, tugging Jason close to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“You know you can’t call him that in front of Lian. I’ve already had to talk to her about the whole insult vs name thing once,” Roy murmurs, drawing back to flick Jason on the forehead. “I’m not doing it again. And you’ve got too dirty a mouth for her to take anything you say seriously.”

Snickering, Jason presses a firmer kiss to Roy, before stepping back. “I’m getting out of this before we start anything.”

“Aw, but blood is such a turn-on for me,” Roy teases.

“No it isn’t. It’s unsanitary as fuck,” Jason retorts. Huffing a sigh, Roy begins to shed his armour as well, gathering it to stash under the bed until one of them can clean it tomorrow. When he’s left in just his under armour, he drifts over to Lian’s door, taking a deep breath before slowly opening it.

Lian is fast asleep, bundled up under several covers with a sickening amount of plush animals accompanying her. She’s safe, and Roy closes the door to let her sleep undisturbed. 

When he gets to their room, Jason is already in bed, propped up against the headboard and scrolling through some sort of social media on his phone. He chuckles at something he’s read, while Roy moves to the drawers to pull out a pair of pyjamas. The pair he ends up with are a fluffy green with Green Arrow patterned across them, little bows and arrows sprinkled throughout. A gag gift from Ollie which backfired because Roy couldn’t care less, and they’re comfy as hell.

After turning off the lights, Roy flops on the bed next to Jason, reaching an arm across the other’s torso, wriggling closer. Jason pats at his sleeve, before pausing. 

“Ew. Green Arrow. I can’t be consorting with the enemy,” He comments, jokes, but it falls a little flat with the pure affection dripping from his words. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have an old Batman sweatshirt in the back of your duffle bag you think I don’t know about,” Roy mumbles into the sheets. Jason splutters for a moment, before huffing. “Lie down, dumbass. Sleep. You’ve been nocturnal already.”

“I’m feelin’ harassed. From my own husband. This is—”

“Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

Dick pops back up in their lives before Jason stops avoiding calling his brother himself. Nightwing springs onto the New York scene, catapulting, quite literally, into their routine patrol. Last Roy had heard, the man was balancing Gotham and Bludhaven, so to say he’s surprised he even had the time to be in another state is an understatement. Sometimes, it feels like speaking the name of one of the Bats summons them.

Jason freezes, and Roy pauses with him, well used to trusting Jason’s fucked ninja instincts over his own doubts. For a few breaths, neither of them move outside of breathing, and then Jason spins, tossing a batarang behind him.

“Fuck!” Yelps an all too familiar voice, and Roy snorts as the limited light falls on a shadowed figure who’s flipping out of the path of the projectile. Jason groans, tilting his mask up to the sky like he’s asking some other being for strength. Which, he’s dramatic enough to be doing exactly that. 

Rolling to a stop, a ball of flashing blue accents and black, Dick pops up with a grin. He looks good, hair wind-tossed and cheeks flushed from where they aren’t covered by his black domino. It’s nice, considering how often Dick had been running himself ragged when he had the Batman role over a year ago now. Wally had been pretty beside himself with worry, and Roy was beginning to follow him into that state. 

“What are you doing here, Nightwing?” Jason growls, and Roy swats him on the shoulder. Fucking bats and their weird territorial tendencies. Unlike Batman, who gets all defensive when anyone outside of his family steps a costumed foot into Gotham, Jason gets all weird when a member of his family crosses paths with him. 

Stepping forward, Roy approaches Dick, who immediately wraps him up in a hug. “Speedy!” Dick cheers, and Roy huffs a laugh. “Since when were you in New York?” 

“I’ve lived here for months, Rob,” Roy tells him as he’s released. “You’d know that if you visited. I love you, but I’m not stepping a toe in Gotham or Bludhaven, not with Lian.” Except, he might be for Christmas. Which is a uniquely terrifying thought. Last time he was there, he and Jason had to fight an anthropomorphised incarnation of evil. 

“Yeah, that’s pretty fair,” Dick agrees, shrugging lightly. “I wouldn’t be all that surprised if, with your luck, she got kidnapped.” It’s only a hypothetical, but it sends a stab of fear through Roy all the same. It must show on his face, because Dick hurries to add, “They’re a lot less common now! Seriously. New York is a lot closer in rates.” Well. That’s a pleasantly terrifying tidbit. Maybe he should take Ollie’s offers to move back to Star City. 

“How close exactly?” Roy asks weakly, and Dick shrugs. 

“Still really far off. It’s Gotham.” 

“As lovely as it is to see my partner have a heart attack, I am wondering why you’re in town,” Jason interrupts, walking up and resting a hand on Roy’s left ribs, arm spread across his back. 

Immediately perking up further, Dick turns a wide grin to Jason. “Little—!”

“No.”

“I missed you,” Dick says, voice soft. Roy feels the muscles of Jason’s arm relax a little, some of the outermost walls coming down. Nudging him with his elbow, Roy gets Jason to let go of him with a grumble. Dick takes it as the opening it is, and swoops in for a hug. 

This is allowed for a few moments, before Jason squirms away far too easily for Dick to have put up any resistance. Dick schools himself, turning to business. “I’ve been tracking a gun trafficking ring. They have ties to the New York scene, some sort of man on the outside from Gotham.”

“Huh. Could it have been the one we took out a few days ago?” Roy asks Jason, who sighs as he contemplates. 

“It’s a possibility. But we didn’t find any traces of inter-state tradin’, which means we didn’t get to the root of the operation.” Wonderful. Roy just loves whack-a-mole, especially when it's for the very dangerous export of highly illegal weapons that can cause mass harm all too easily. “We seized a lot of their products, and the numbers we grabbed were within our total. Although it would explain the weird final count. Typically these operations round up, makes it easier to track sells.”

“Sounds like my guys,” Dick mutters, nodding to Jason. “I was hoping to get this wrapped up before Christmas, but if they’ve been run to ground or scared into changing their tactics…”

Roy winces. Criminals that go across borders are some of his least favourites for this exact reason. Which of course makes them all the more common. “Why don’t you come with us? We can shake down some contacts, see if they’ve heard anything,” Roy proposes, Jason giving a noise of agreement. Dick hesitates for a minute, before nodding.

“Sounds great. Where are we headed?” Dick asks, watching Jason head to the edge of the rooftop. 

“Where are we?” Roy calls, and Jason answers with a cross street. “Closest is… ah fuck.”

“Fuck? Why are we swearing?” Dick demands, swivelling his gaze between the two. Jason’s shoulders shake with laughter, and Roy groans as he drags a palm down his face. “Who are we going to see?”

Jason twists, looking back at them as he unclips his grappler from his belt. “Francie.”

“Francie?”

“Francie,” Roy hisses. He despises that man with every fibre of his being, but unfortunately for everyone except the contact, he gives good info. 

Jason’s mask zeroes in on Roy’s face, a silent question in them. Jason’s always good about this, and he wouldn’t hesitate to turn them around to hunt out another source even if the information is only half as good. Roy doesn’t care about his dignity around Dick, though, all of the Titans of that time have so much dirt on each other it’s insane, and he’d rather celebrate Christmas with the knowledge that these guys are off the street. So, he nods, giving a subtle thumbs up.

“Hey, Dick?” Jason grabs Dick’s attention, and Roy can hear the shit-eatting grin through the slight distortion of the mask. “Remember what Roy was like during the early Titans?” He waits for a nod of confirmation. “You’re about to meet his match.”

Francie is posted in his shop, as always, and the three vigilantes pause on his rooftop to shed some of their more recognisable elements. Jason and Roy are well equipped for this, with the former removing his helmet and producing a plain black mask to cover the lower portion of his face along with shrugging off his bomber jacket. There isn’t much that can be done for the red bat on his chest, but Jason just keeps his body angled away from possible crooks and it works out well. 

Roy leaves some of his outer armour, the stuff that is clearly too good for a regular street-criminal, and is left with his mostly black pieces. Dick watches this, and then blinks down at his own costume.

“You can wear Red’s jacket,” Roy tells him, kicking the clothing up off the floor with the toe of his boot. Dick catches it easily, shrugging it on and zipping it up over the brighter blue accents across his chest. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he does a spin, and Roy grins. 

“I’m the big bad Red Hood,” Dick growls, puffing his chest up. “I never want to spend time with my family because I’m dramatic and determined that everyone hates me.”

“I’m gonna shoot you,” Jason threatens. This only empowers Dick, who makes finger-guns and mimes shooting him back. 

“Speaking of,” Roy pipes up, turning to Jason and holding out an expectant hand. “Hand ‘em over.” Jason stares blankly at him, but Roy waits him out. Eventually, with a sigh, he pulls out his four most easily reachable guns, passing them over. Two of the guns are quickly disassembled, the pieces placed in the hiding hole where they’re leaving the rest of their gear, while the other two Roy puts in his own empty side holsters. 

Dick cackles, bouncing closer to Jason with a smug air. “Did you just get your stuff taken off you? Roy has to take your toys? However will you shoot me now, Jay?”

“I’m gonna shoot you as soon as they’re back in my hands,” Jason amends. “And ‘m gonna enjoy it.”

“Aww, my little brother is grumpy he’s being punished—”

Moving over to the edge of the building, Roy interrupts their squabbling with, “Let’s get this done,” before vaulting over the little half-wall. He drops into a roll, absorbing the shock of the landing and backing up to allow room for the other two to follow him. They do so with little fanfare, and Jason stalks ahead to open the door of the rickety little pawn shop. 

“Just a minute!” Francie calls from the back over the little door bell jingle. Roy rolls his eyes, while Dick examines the shop they stepped into. The store is more than just a front for the man’s real income, it’s an excuse to horde, and as a result is claustrophobic with bits and pieces. Floor to ceiling shelves are piled with a wide array of mostly useless shit, nothing is organised, and the entire front row of each shelf is balanced precariously on the edge of the surface, just waiting to fall. Not that Roy has ever seen something do so, but he limits his time here as much as humanly possible. 

Dick picks up a circus elephant figure with an intrigued noise, turning the smooth ceramic in his hands. Jason snorts at the mildly misshapen thing, to which his brother gives an offended gasp and clutches it close to his chest. 

“Arsenal! To what do I owe this… pleasure.” Francie’s voice begins chipper and bright, sinking into sarcasm when Roy turns towards him along with Jason. “I see you haven’t gotten rid of the extra weight yet,” Francie says, shooting a scornful look at Jason. Roy rolls his eyes, moving up to the counter with the other two trailing behind him. “You know you’d look better without it, baby.”

“I’m not breaking up with my partner, and certainly not for you,” Roy deadpans. 

“That’s what they all say. I’ll guess you haven’t decided on an open relationship yet, either,” Francie says, wiggling his eyebrows once. Roy scoffs in disgust, rubbing at his temples, summoning his rapidly draining energy to deal with this bullshit. “Pity. That lump of muscle can’t be satisfying you in every way—”

“Oh my god,” Dick chokes, pounding on his chest. “Oh my god.”

This, unfortunately, gets Francie’s attention onto Dick, and he runs a far too intense appraising eye across Dick’s body. Francie licks his teeth behind his lips, releasing them with a click. “Nightwing. I underestimated you, Red Hood, you clearly don’t recognise what you have in front of you if you’re going somewhere else for your needs.”

Dick gags. Jason shivers. Even Roy himself grimaces. “Fuck no. That’s my brother, fuckwit,” Jason snaps, and Francie recoils. 

“My apologies,” He mutters, returning his gaze to Dick. “I’d tap you, if my heart didn’t belong to another,” The man tells Dick, before returning his gaze to Roy. 

“I think I lost the receipt. I want to return it,” Roy grumbles, receiving a wink for the comment that only makes him more disgusted.

“Cut the crap, Francie,” Jason snaps. He leans forward, past Roy’s shoulder, closer to the man behind the counter. “We need information.”

“It’s always business with you, never play,” Francie sighs, adding to Roy, “He has no range, unlike me.” Roy feel’s Jason’s hand creep to his hip, towards where he holstered one of the confiscated guns, and slaps the fingers away. Luckily, Francie’s superpower of knowing exactly when Jason is 110% done with him, and Roy is getting close to letting his partner shoot the man in the shoulder, kicks in. He turns serious, which for Francie is not much different from before, but it’s enough to curb Jason’s stronger homicidal urges. “What are you looking for?”

“Weapons ring. Does trading in Gotham, quite possibly other areas as well. Large operation,” Jason fires in rapid succession. Roy glances back to Dick, who has taken a step back and is poking around the shop once more. There’s no doubt in Roy’s mind that there are actual antiques worth something in the deep recesses of this place, so he lets Dick continue his search. “Might be based here, but we aren’t sure on that.”

“I haven’t heard anything. It’s likely out of my wheelhouse,” Francie answers. It isn’t believable for a second, the sentiment echoed by Jason’s huff beside him, and Roy isn’t looking forward to the upcoming pulling teeth that will be this conversation. 

“You’re a forger, Francie, licences have your fingers all over it,” Roy tries.

“I could have my fingers all over you,” Francie teases. Jason starts forward, but Roy rolls his eyes and kicks him in the shin. There’s a contemplative look to the man, the previous remark clearly more of an instinct that one of his genuine passes. 

The moment passes, and Francie shrugs innocently. “No clue what you’re talking about, guys. I’m a simple pawn shop owner.”

“For fucks sake,” Jason hisses. 

“Do you sell gun parts?” Comes Dick’s distant, bewildered voice. None of them pay him any mind. 

Taking a breath, Roy leans forward, encroaching on Francie’s space. The man grins, echoing the movement, both of them meeting in the middle of the countertop. Roy reaches up, skating his fingers along the crooked collar of the shirt the forger is wearing, landing in the middle right over the first button that is closed. 

Digging his fingers in, Roy tugs, pulling the man over and slamming him into the wood of the rickety counter. There’s a satisfying thud, blood dripping over the edge Roy has stepped away from. “Fuck!” Francie yelps. 

“If you don’t have any information, we’ll have to come back tomorrow to see if anything has changed. And the night after that,” Roy begins, grinning viciously when Francie’s neck twists to allow him to look Roy in the eyes. “Maybe we’ll come here so often that it won’t make sense to ditch our gear each time. What will your clients think, flashy vigilantes coming each night?”

“Pretty sure they’ll think you’re compromised, buddy,” Jason adds, tone mild. 

Remaining silent, Roy lets Francie squirm, keeping his hand pressed to the back of the man’s neck. Slowly, he increases the pressure he’s putting on him, waiting for—

“Alright! Alright! I’ll tell you!” Francie yelps, and Roy lets him stand upright. He rubs at the back of his neck, sending a sullen glare to the two of them. “Have you ever heard of a safe-word?” He grumbles. Jason takes a step forward, and he rolls his eyes. “Three guys came in here yesterday. They were looking for someone who could forge a bunch a passports, quick. I have too many jobs, I pointed them to an associate.”

A beat of silence passes, and Jason barks, “Name.”

“I ain’t telling you that!” Francie says. 

“Francie, so help me god. These guys are doing a runner, their operations were attacked both here and in Gotham. If they get away because of your refusal to tell us—”

There’s a crash, Francie winces at the noise, and Roy flicks his gaze to the direction. Did someone sneak in? They couldn’t have already been there, Francie wouldn’t have been so friendly with them if someone else could have seen, but if they knew to expect trouble they might have held the bell when they came in. 

Instead, there’s a rush of Dick hurrying over, something clutched in his hands. He stops in front of the bleeding man, shoving whatever he has in his face. “Where did you get this?” Dick demands. 

“What?” Francie questions. 

“This piece. Who sold you it?” Dick reiterates. Roy shoots a glance at Jason, who shrugs in similar confusion.

“I don’t know!” Francie insists. “I don’t remember every person who comes in!”

“It was a recent sale. Come on. Look at it properly,” Dick insists. Francie makes a vaguely disgusted face, but does as he asks. 

The skepticism turns to cautious interest when he gets a good look at it, and he takes it off Dick’s hands, turning it over in his own palms. “I remember this.”

“Of course you do,” Roy mutters. His commentary is ignored.

“Some kid came in. It’s a good part, but without the rest of the gun it’s worth a fuck ton less,” Francie continues, reaching with his right hand and flicking on the lightswitch on the wall. An overhead lamp lights up, and he reaches up to manoeuvre it lower and at an angle. “Weird thing was she had a bunch of parts, all from different guns. Serial numbers scratched off, see?” Tilting it in the light, the shine reveals the space he’s talking about.

“Why’d you buy them, then?” Roy asks. 

Clicking his tongue, Francie turns the lamp back off, batting it up and out of the way. “Kid didn’t look so good. Torn clothes, blood in the hair, stunk of filth. She looked like she needed a good meal.” There’s silence after that, and Francie looks up from his hands to give them a deadpan stare, blood still dripping faintly from his nose. “I’m not heartless.”

“Right. But this is a missing piece from one of the guns we found. In Gotham,” Dick says. 

“Are you sure?” Jason asks, holding his hand out for the piece. Reluctantly, it gets passed over, and Jason examines it himself. “It’s a garden variety AR-15 piece.”

“If they had multiple different parts…” Roy responds, frowning. Something isn’t right, but they need more information. “How old would you say they are? What did they look like?”

Francie glances between them. “What will you do?” Wow. The man actually seems concerned, for someone other than himself. Pigs must be flying.

“Track them down and ask them. We won’t hurt them before we have the truth. Definitely not if they’re a kid,” Jason tells him. It seems enough for Francie, because he sighs and acquiesces. 

“I’d say sixteen to seventeen. Shorter side, dark hair although it could have been the dirt. Noticed she had a mark on the corner of her jaw, here.” Francie points to the left of his own jaw, a bit lower than being directly over the bone. “Had a thick Gotham accent.”

Jason spins, leaving out the front of the shop. Roy calls after him, but he doesn’t pause as he stalks through the crowded shelves. Dick steps to go after him, but Roy reaches and pulls his elbow still. “Give him a minute,” Roy tells him, before turning back to their informant. “We need all the other pieces she sold you.”

“I don’t want them anyway. Anything tied to you lot is poisoned.”

Ten minutes later, Dick and Roy are being shoved out the front door, a box of rattling metal held in Dick’s arms. How the man inside knows where anything is, Roy doesn’t care to know. He’s far more concerned about Jason. It is kind of nice to be ushered out instead of coerced to stay longer. 

Roy heads around the side of the building, finding the rusting awning that Francie has left up against all better judgement. Swinging himself up, he listens to the creaking of the metal as it adjusts to his weight, standing on the frame of the roof rather than the middle. Twisting, he takes the box out of Dick’s arms from where he’s followed him below, shoving it onto the higher roof and going up after it. 

Pacing back and forth is Jason, agitated. Roy gives him space, skirting the box further along the edge of the roof to make better room for Dick. Once the other is safely on the roof, he focuses back on his partner.

“Tell me what’s going on in your head, Red,” Roy calls. Jason pauses, sighing, running a hand through his hair. 

“I doubt she was sixteen,” He murmurs. Roy frowns, and steps closer. “She’s from Gotham. I’d guess closer to fourteen.”

“Fuck,” Dick swears. Roy whips his gaze to him, Dick holding a palm to his forehead. “Child trafficking.”

Roy blinks. “Woah. That was a leap and a half. Why are we making this jump?” It could have been the child of someone in the group, running from home with whatever looks worth something. The group had no indicators of that kind of violence. 

“The weird totals, a kid in danger selling disjointed pieces from firearms, connections with Gotham,” Jason lists, and Roy spins the ideas around in his head. Weird totals, so somewhere they’re rounding numbers up with kids in order to fly under the radar, which leaves the question of when and where the shipments are split. The seller, if this is child trafficking, must have been a victim who escaped, somehow. If she was smart enough, which it points to her growing up in Crime Alley making that a given, she could have swiped some pieces to sell when she got out. Connections with Gotham? Well, they were talking about kidnapping rates in Gotham earlier tonight.

Child trafficking. Fuck. “Okay. We need to start looking for connections here. Find whoever is involved with that piece of the operation,” Roy starts, turning the situation over in his head. He likes exactly none of this, and would like to dismantle it as fast as possible, but they can’t rush taking this down. 

“I’ll let the crew in Gotham know. It would be best to cripple the network here, and swing at the source before the chain can be rebuilt,” Dick adds, pulling out an earpiece from his utility belt. Placing it into his ear, he blocks the other one, greeting with, “Hey, Oracle?” before wandering over to the edge of the roof.

With that in motion, Roy turns to Jason, examining his partner as he stills, glancing back to Roy. In the line of his shoulders, the purposeful stillness, Roy can see the desire ruminating within Jason to tear up the streets now in order to find any clues. He himself would be lying if he said he didn’t share that urge, but no good could come out of doing that tonight. They stare into each other’s masked eyes, a silent argument, which Roy wins by batting away Jason’s empty attempts. 

Jason has more than just himself to worry about now, even if the situation wasn’t so delicate that they need to be far more subtle in their attempts. Sighing, the tension leaks from both of them in their agreement, at which point Dick returns to their sides. 

“The rest of the group are going to dig on their side, let us know what they find. What now?” Dick asks, glancing between the two of them, and Roy appreciates that the man knows better than to start attempting to hand out orders to them on their own turf. It’s part of what makes Roy hate working with Batman. 

“We turn in for the night,” Roy decides. Dick squints, glancing over at Jason quickly, before nodding in agreement. “You can crash with us,” Roy tells him.

Shaking his head, Dick argues with, “I have a hotel room—”

“Just come, Dickiebird,” Jason snaps. “Lian’ll want to see you.” There’s an unspoken note, which Roy picks up on easily, and he has no doubt that Dick can at least speculate on what is being left unsaid. It convinces the man to accept their offer.

“Fine, I guess if you can’t be without my winning charm for a few hours—”

“I’m locking you out,” Jason threatens, and Dick laughs. Roy joins, drowning out Dick’s attempts to lightheartedly grovel at his brother’s feet.

It’s nice, and Roy begins to hope that they see Jason’s family for Christmas.

Chapter Text

Sunlight warms Roy’s face, gently pressing to his skin, and there’s a heavy weight across his chest. Red fills his vision, the light of day brightening his eyelids, and he sighs in the peace of a slow morning. Lian must—

Oh. It’s Monday. 

Roy startles further awake, opening his eyes to the ceiling above him. He pauses, trying to summon the wherewithal to slip out and get his daughter to school. Normally, he’s really on top of that. 

Instead, he hears laughter. Bright and cheery even with the muffling of the bedroom wall. The piece of Dick staying with them slots into place, giving him more time to soak up sharing space with his partner. 

Jason is dead asleep, curls of hair against Roy’s collarbone, arm slung across his torso. The streak of white is clearly visible, and Roy lifts a lazy hand to run his fingers through the locks. It had taken a while for Jason to let go of the wired energy that he’d gained with last night’s discoveries, and it was only because of Jason’s recent streak of particularly bad insomnia that he’s sleeping at all. Roy’s insistence that Jason stay with him instead of going out for his usual later night rounds surely helped as well.

Faint burning wafts through the air, and Roy buries his nose in Jason’s hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. Jason sighs a little, traces of tension leaking further from his muscles, and Roy grins at the sight. 

Never did he think he’d be so fucking happy just having his partner in his arms, and the knowledge that his daughter is safe and happy. Yet, here he is. 

Although, his daughter will be considerably less happy soon, given that the scent of burnt food is growing stronger. Reluctant, Roy gathers the will to move Jason, who is still dead to the world. Bats are fucking weird, but Roy will take his wins, as it makes slipping out without disturbing him all the easier. 

Stumbling to his feet, Roy pads out of the room, socked feet quiet on the carpet. Once he gently pulls the bedroom door closed behind him, he stretches out his back with a whining hum, feeling his shoulders crack and shift. Shivering a ripple throughout his body, Roy rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he walks down the short hallway to the kitchen space. 

Pausing at the threshold, he watches the scene before him undisturbed.

Dick is swaying to some silent music, Lian perched on his shoulders leaning against the back of his head, focused on the stovetop in front of him. He’s wearing a garish display of Christmas pyjamas, a warm red with patterned symbols splashed across it that Roy doesn’t care to decipher in the moment. It’s a contrast to the fluffy, baby pink legs that curl around either side of his neck, small white reindeer prancing across them.

As Roy watches, Dick picks up the handle of the frying pan, spinning around sharp enough to jostle Lian and make the girl giggle, turning to the counter space between himself and Roy. Upon flicking his gaze up and making eye contact, the man freezes. Roy walks forward, examining the plate towering with fresh pancakes. 

A surprising amount of them appear only charred at the edges. Passable, really.

“Good morning dad!” Lian cheers. She leans around Dick’s head, reaching out to him. Roy tries to take her into his arms, but when she protests he lets go. “I’m making pancakes!”

“I can see that,” Roy grins. “It looks like Uncle Dick is doing most of the work, though.” Lian shakes her head firmly at this, digging her fingers into Dick’s messy black locks, drawing a slight wince from the man below her.

“I’m making them! Like the rat from ratatatool!” 

“Ratatouille, sweetheart,” He gently corrects, seeing his daughter quietly turn the word over before looking Dick in the eye to mouth sorry. 

Shrugging his shoulders, which sends Lian giggling, Dick waves off the apology. “She wanted to help, so she’s helping. There’s fresh coffee,” Dick adds, pointing to the pot, and Roy immediately busies himself with making one. 

“Uncle Dick do you know how to do them now?” Lian asks. “I wanna eat!” Dick gives confirmation, and then Lian falls back off the man’s shoulders, going boneless. 

Dropping what he’s doing, Roy spins around to catch his daughter, sighing out the buzz of adrenaline as his daughter only laughs. He thought they’d stopped with the whole ‘dropping without warning and expecting her dads to catch her’. As sweet as it is, it only takes one wrong time for everything to go sideways real fast. “Lian,” He scolds lightly.

“Oops.”

“Rugrat,” Roy growls affectionately, shaking her lightly from where he has her by the armpits. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“Noooo!” Lian whines, kicking her feet. “Let me go!”

Roy chuckles, planting her on a stool at the kitchen bench. He grabs one of the stacked plates, picking through the pile of pancakes to find those in the best condition. Selecting three, he places the plate in front of her, along with her knife and fork. “What do you want on them, sweetheart?”

“Syrup! And butter,” Lian decides. Roy pulls them out of their respective places, placing them in front of her and ruffling her hair before leaning over Dick’s side. 

“Hey, Speedy,” Dick greets, worming his spatula under the pancake and flipping it with a wet splat. “Figured you could use the extra sleep.”

“Thanks,” Roy agrees. He swipes a finger in the dwindling bowl of pancake batter. They’re a little flour-y, but much better than the last attempt Roy had tried from Dick. “How long are you here for?” 

“A week, probably. If you want help with what we uncovered last night, I can definitely stay longer. Especially if it will give me more time to drag Jason back home for Christmas,” says Dick, depositing another pancake onto the cooling stack. Roy winces, sneaking a glance at his daughter, who is luckily too engrossed in her pancakes to have picked up the mention of the holiday. 

Huffing a breath, Roy moves to pick up some of his own breakfast, adding over his shoulder, “I’d talk to him about that if I were you. It might not be as hard as you’re expecting.”

“Wait, what? Roy, did he say something to you?” Dick asks, spinning around to face Roy directly. “He never talks to me!”

Roy grins, shovelling pancake into his mouth. Dick seems to recognise that he isn’t going to spill on this, and he grumbles under his breath as he turns back to the frying pan. Flipping the pancake, he winces, and Roy figures that one spent a little too long on one side. 

The rest of Lian’s time before school passes in an easy manner, Dick finishing with the pancakes and eating some himself as he leans over the counter. 

As Lian runs off to her room to get her school bag, Roy makes her a quick lunch. Dick watches with an odd air about him, but Roy will be damned if he is the first one to acknowledge it. He’s far too used to the odd war of wills Bats try to enact, and not folding first deals the best results, because he knows something Dick wants to know as well. 

Snapping Lian’s lunchbox closed, Dick finally caves first, and asks, “You and Jason are seeing each other?”

Well fuck. 

“It’s a little more complicated than that—”

“Yes! Yes it is! One of my closest friends is dating my brother!” Dick snaps. Sparking anger surges within Roy, and he flips the knife, sending it embedding into the chopping board in front of the man. Jaw clicking shut, Dick glares at Roy, who glares back. He is not dealing with the white knighting from Dick this early in the morning. Definitely not in front of his daughter.

His daughter who emerges from her bedroom, bag open and clutched to her chest, ready for her lunchbox to be slipped inside. Roy does so in silence, listening to Lian chatter about what their class is supposed to be doing today, ignoring the presence still occupying the edge of the bench.

Scooping his keys, he twirls them around his fingers, finally looking at Dick. “Come on. We’ll drop Lian off at school.”

Dick squints a fraction, examining Roy’s expressions, before nodding and following the two out the door. 

Lian cheers.

“Bye dad! Bye Uncle Dick!” Lian chirps, opening the door and sliding out the booster seat. “Love you!”

Both men dutifully chorus it back, and the door slams shut behind her. Silence reigns as Roy turns the engine back on and drives out of the drop-off zone, beginning the drive back to the apartment.

Dick is silent, tense, and Roy decides to throw him a bone this time. “How long have you known?” He asks. Dick relaxes a little, taking the invitation to talk about the elephant. 

“When Lian talked about her dads I pieced it together,” Dick answers ruefully. “How long have you been together?”

Roy hums, changing lanes to overtake a pulled over garbage truck. “About three years? I couldn’t really tell you. It wasn’t exactly a clear-cut beginning. A little over a year since we got married.”

“Married?!” Dick screeches. Roy winces at the noise, taking a side-street when the opportunity presents itself. He is not contending with New York drivers on the busier streets during this conversation, even if it takes longer to reach home. Out of the corner of his eye, Roy sees Dick flail a little, trying to digest the information. “When— Why did you get married?”

“...Because I love him?” Roy responds, a little wryly. Dick makes a choked noise, shaking his head, black hair a blur with Roy’s attention on the road. “Why else do people get married? Tax benefits? Jason isn’t even legally alive, let alone paying taxes.” He might have to get Jason to reconsider that, actually. Their marriage is legal under the alias Jason used, but it’d be nice to be married as themselves. Also it would help with paperwork around Lian, she wants to adopted by him which would make an adorable birthday gift, and would mean she goes with him if Roy dies…

“No, yes. I mean— Was there a wedding?”

Snorting, Roy shakes his head. “We eloped. Didn’t want all the drama. Just Jason, Lian, and me.” The old priest had taken their strange appearance well in stride, as well as being okay with the whole ‘two men’ thing, and their little ceremony had been quick. They went to a cute local cafe after, and Roy wouldn’t have it any other way.

“My brother is married,” Dick murmurs. “To my best friend.” Roy rolls his eyes. “Okay. Sure. Why the fuck not? So, what, you’ve kept this from Ollie as well?” 

Here, Roy does genuinely feel a little bad. His hesitation lasts a beat too long, and Dick gasps in pure betrayal. Giving up on trying to find a peaceful way of breaking the news, Roy stays silent as his friend works through the five stages of grief. 

“I know Jason’s relationship with you guys is… tenuous at times. I followed his lead on that front. Besides, Lian was going to slip to Ollie, and it would go over better if he heard it because he was specifically told,” Roy explains. He doesn’t owe the man anything, he knows that, but this is his brother they’re talking about. 

Nothing is said after that for a moment, and then Dick quietly mutters, “I thought we were getting better.”

“You’ll have to talk to Jason about that. I genuinely believe he didn’t mean to keep it from you for so long, but as to why he didn’t feel safe to tell you at the beginning…” Roy shrugs. “That’s your relationship, not mine.”

Sighing, Dick rubs his face with a hand, slumping further into the passenger seat. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask him to come to Christmas.”

“Oh no, you definitely should,” Roy says, and Dick frowns, glancing over to him. “He wants to bring us this year.”

“Jason. Wants to bring you. His husband. Roy Harper. To Christmas.”

Roy nods, not really sure where Dick is going with this. The man is dead quiet next to him, shockingly still, thinking through whatever is going around his head. 

They arrive at the apartment, driving into the parking basement, where Roy parks but doesn’t quite cut the engine. Then, Dick laughs. Cackles, really. It’s such a switch that it gives Roy whiplash. Hysterical giggles that border on sounding completely insane, and it’s what Roy imagines people on Joker Venom sound like, from what Jason has told him of the drug.

“Yeah. Yeah, he should bring you. And Lian. It’ll be a shitshow,” Dick gasps, heaving in breaths as he ceases laughing. 

“From what I know of your family, it will always be a bit of a shitshow,” Roy responds, and Dick wrinkles his nose at the statement, but doesn’t verbally disagree. “Jason isn’t very healthy around your family.” Dick opens his mouth, and Roy puts up a hand. “That’s not an attack. It’s fine when there’s a crisis, but when it is out of the suits, with so many of you at once, it doesn’t work out well. He wants support, and to see his family for the holidays. Those don’t have to be mutually exclusive, regardless of Bruce and Ollie’s pissing contest.” Roy will not hesitate to have a very similar conversation with Jason’s dad as what he had with Ollie the first time he brought Jason around. It worked quite well last time, and he’s sure he can work it on Batman as well.

“You’re right,” Dick sighs. “I didn’t mean to insinuate otherwise. Just… This is a lot. B isn’t going to take it well.”

“Bruce can take his opinions and shove them up his own ass,” Roy groans. “I haven’t forgiven him for the way he treated Jason, regardless of the circumstances. No, don’t defend it. I don’t need to love the guy to be there for Jason, so I’m not going to.” It’s healthy for Jason to move on. Roy doesn’t need to, so he’ll have enough spite for the both of them.

“I wasn’t going to defend him,” Dick corrects, tone quiet but far from meek. “What happened was shitty on both sides. I’m glad Jason is trying to move forward. But you and I both know how bad Bruce deals with change.”

Nodding with a tired sigh, Roy rubs at his eyes. “There’s never going to be a perfect time to do this, though.”

“Yeah. Which is why I’m glad Jason is finally going to accept my offers for Christmas. At the very least, Lian will get to meet her cool aunts and uncles.”

“About that… How many will be there?”

Dick blows a breath out of his lips, frowning as he begins mentally tallying them all. “Well, there’s B and Alfred, obviously, as well as Tim, Damian, and I.” A finger goes up for each person, bringing them to five. “Duke, Selina, and Cass as well. Babs is coming with Gordon dropping by, Steph is too I’m pretty sure. The Kane’s are overseas, so is Harper… I think that’s it. Smaller this year, which is probably good.” Eleven. Eleven, plus Jason, Roy, and Lian. That is fourteen total. No wonder there’s always drama at a gathering that big. 

And that’s small.

“Everything is becoming a lot clearer,” Roy comments, and Dick laughs. 

“We’re a big and motley bunch,” He says. “Lian’ll have plenty of playmates.”

“She’s never going to let you guys go,” Roy sighs, with a vaguely doomed air. Dick snorts, and they laugh together for a few moments. “Alright, any further questions?” Roy jokes, unbuckling his seatbelt and popping the driver’s door. Dick makes an affirmative noise, and Roy pauses, turning back to the man. 

“I’d give you a shovel talk but you’ve been on my teams for years. You know what I’ll do if you break Jay’s heart,” Dick says, smile gone and voice far more serious than Roy has ever heard. Shivering at the cold expression, Roy swallows and bobs a nod. His mind conjures up the time Red Robin, at the time still in the Robin mantle, was MIA on a Titan’s mission he’d tagged along on. Never had Dick turned so lethal, damn near killing anyone in his path as he fought through the hordes of aliens to reach his brother’s last known location. Tim had been fine, a knock to the head sending his communicator on the fritz and leaving him too disorientated to reset it, but the Titans had been in a deeply shocked trance for the rest of the mission. 

Dick stares detachedly at Roy for another few beats, before grinning bright with a chirped, “Great!” Roy knows the other is well aware his threat landed, and he throws open the door to clamber out onto the concrete. “Now I just got one more promise to make.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, well, I’ve got to give your partner one too. I wouldn’t be doing my best friend duties, if I didn’t.” 

Laughing in disbelief, Roy locks the car and walks to the elevator, summoning it and stepping inside with Dick right behind him. “I can’t see how that will go well at all,” Roy says, and Dick only grins sharper. 

Bats. Insane, the lot of them.

Upon entering the apartment, they find Jason, disorientated and cradling a cup of coffee on the couch. When the door clicks, he jolts, instantly more awake and alert. He relaxes upon finding Roy shucking off his coat, but stops melting into the couch when Dick also emerges. It isn’t quite hyper-vigilance, but he’s definitely more frosty than normal. Not that Roy can blame him. 

“Hey, babe,” Roy greets, shaking off the last of the chill holding his bones. “How’d you sleep?” He moves closer, leaning over the back of the couch and stealing a quick kiss from his husband. 

“Alright, in context,” Jason mutters. The sleep has mostly loosened from his tongue, the lingering taste of coffee aiding in that, but it’s still clear the man hasn’t been awake for a substantial amount of time. “Lian all good?” Even with this routine, of Jason always asking after Lian no matter if something was upsetting her or if she was a happy camper, it always brings a smile to Roy’s face. It’s nice, having someone else care for Lian as much as he does, that she is one of their first thoughts in the morning like him, and he doesn’t think he will ever tire of that fact. Nor does he want to.

“Yeah. Her classes are almost all Christmas themed, now, which she is quite enthused about,” Roy chuckles, sneaking another kiss before he stands up and away. “Coffee, Dick?”

“Please,” Dick says, moving to the armchair at the end of the couch and sprawling across it in his typical fashion. 

Busying himself in the kitchen, Roy hears Dick turn the conversation to his brother with the direct, “You have a husband.” 

“Yeah, what of it?” Jason growls, and Dick makes a defensive sort of noise. 

“Nothing! Just the fact that you didn’t even have a wedding.” 

“Weddin’s are overrated. I didn’t wanna deal with everyone bein’ everyone,” Jason sighs, and Dick hums in agreement. 

“Yeah, Kori and I’s wedding was a disaster, even before the whole last-minute cancellation. Trying to organise everyone as well as get them to not pick fights… I was so lucky Babs took to ordering everyone around even before she became Oracle.” God, Roy had almost forgotten about that. It’d been a whirlwind, which was rather fitting for Dick and Kori’s relationship overall, but ultimately everything was too much. The Titans fracturing, Barbara being shot and in what was basically a hospital bed, Jason’s death…

Snorting, Jason snarks, “I’ve seen the pictures.”

“There were far too many photos of that day. Jay, I’m not going to make you feel lesser for doing what you wanted and needed for your relationship. I wish I had done that back then. I’m just happy you have someone. You deserve to have that love if you want it, deserve to be able to rely on it, and Roy is as stable as they come, nowadays at least.” 

“Yer a fuckin’ sap,” Jason grumbles, voice just a little thick. “I’m glad you didn’t give a Best Man speech, or we’d have been there for hours.”

“Aw, Little Wing!” Dick gasps, truly delighted. “I’d have been your best man?”

“Coin flip between Roy and me, who has to put up with your sorry ass.” Actually, it was more of a fight of who was going to get him, but sure. 

Roy finishes, grabbing the completed mugs and navigating back to the coffee table. He places one in front of Dick, keeping the other in his hands. He presses a hand into Jason’s hair, before moving off to log into his laptop in their room, allowing the brothers a bit of space to talk as he completes his paperwork for his most recent job. 

They aren’t quiet, over the next few hours. But they definitely weren’t trying to be anyways, and a lot of laughter gets pushed through the walls as Roy types away. 

Later, Jason comes into the room to grab his phone charger, looking slightly disconcerted and rather nervous, and Roy knows he’s received his own threats from Dick. Just as Dick promised.

Chapter Text

“Comm check,” Dick says. Roy shifts the volume on his earpiece. 

“Clear,” He murmurs. He’s checking his equipment on the building next to their target, Jason sitting dead still next to him. Jason echoes the declaration, although he seems far more focused on watching Roy work. Normally, they’re getting ready at the same time so they can’t pay much attention to each other’s efforts and routines, but Jason’s been energised since they narrowed down a place to pin the heads of the operation in the city. He was ready by the time Roy finished putting Lian to bed. 

“How are you— Hang on,” Dick goes silent after that, and Roy shoots a questioning glance to Jason. Shrugging, Jason sheds no light on what his brother could be up to, although he appears completely unbothered by the event. Eventually, there’s a small click as Dick tunes back in with, “Oracle is requesting access to the channel.”

Oracle is Barbara’s new alias, something of an urban myth among a lot of the newer community. Roy simply knows her as the red-headed Batgirl who was far too ready to brawl one second, and a calculating leader the next. Seeing her in her element is always a joy, and Roy has yet to see her in her full glory as the puppetmaster the image she has cultivated speaks to. Jason snorts, drawing Roy from his musing with a wry, “That’s a formality and you know it. She’s already in. Hey, Barbie.”

“Nerd,” Barbara greets, tone warm and light. “You know me so well.”

“Welcome to the operation, Oracle,” Roy chimes in, finishing with activating his explosive arrows, letting them hum lightly beneath his hands. Storing them safely in the quiver, Roy dusts his hands. “Ready to help us kick some ass?”

Laughing lightly, the noise slightly jittery from the distance away from Barbara’s homebase, Barbara clicks something faintly as she responds, “Always. Nice to hear you, Speedy. Feeling nostalgic?”

“For some things, yeah,” Roy agrees, stumbling to his feet. “Others, not so much. Like Rob’s constant chatter.”

“You love me and my chatter,” Dick whines, just as theatrical as the kid who donned pixie boots and decided to become the first child vigilante. “I used to be your leader, y’know.”

Rolling his eyes, even though half the people in the conversation can’t see it, Roy shakes out his shoulder. Jason stands as well, the heavy armour of his legs dragging against its own folds as he straightens. “Let’s get this show on the road, already.” The tone of his voice catches Roy's attention, and he examines his partner’s figure for any sign of this whole thing being more than he can handle.

Shoulders are stiff, but shy of defensive. His hands aren’t carefully held still, lightly left to rest against his thighs, although one is moving closer to the grappling gun on his belt. He breathes carefully, but easily.

Satisfied, Roy walks past Jason, grabbing a grappling arrow out of his quiver and brushing the man’s shoulder with his own. He fires it to the building next to them, releasing the catch and sending him soaring over to the rooftop that is going to be his home for the next couple hours. 

Rolling with the force of landing, in order to be as silent as possible, he hears Jason light down next to him, and retracts the grappling arrow in order to store it away. They both approach the skylight, Roy squinting through it in order to examine the scene below them. In the limited light, he can see figures hunched over a table, but any details escape him. He huffs a breath onto the frosted glass, wiping the condensation with the side of a gloved hand. It allows him a little more vision, and he chooses the best angle to be able to cover Jason and Dick when they breach. 

“Here,” Roy whispers, and Jason steps back in order to rifle through his utility belt. He pulls out a small, compact disc, calibrating it before setting it against the glass where Roy indicates. There’s a slight whirring noise, and then it slices a perfect circle into the surface like a knife through butter. Jason pulls it back, the glass hole revealing itself. “Thanks.”

Jason moves away, leaping off the roof and getting into his own position out of Roy’s line of sight. Roy tries to not get too nervous about that fact, steeling himself as he nocks his bow with a trick arrow. Smoke, in order to give the brothers the added level of stealth.

“Ready,” Dick murmurs in his ear. After a beat, Jason echoes this. Roy pulls the string taut, pressing the curve of his hand against his face, and angles the bow. 

He fires. 

With a crack, the arrow imbeds itself in the wood of the table, a trail of smoke left in its wake. Smoke billows out of the object now that it is still, and the eight men below turn into a frenzy at the surprise. 

Bursting into the room, Jason and Dick descend on them without hesitation. In the chaos that erupts, Roy takes his bow and swings the bottom limb into the glass of the skylight, shattering the window and sending shards cascading below. Pulling out a normal arrow and readying it smoothly. 

Dick is lithe, bouncing around the fight with acrobatic ease, weaving around brawls as the thugs try to hit him and only hit each other. He is lethal, powerful limbs honed in strength and experience. Striking with escrima sticks that crackle in the dim light with electricity, he burns the group below one by one. Roy fires an arrow into the hand of a man who leaned over the table, scrambling for a discarded gun, pinning him to the surface. “Thanks, Speedy!” Dick chirps. 

Jason is solid, standing in the middle of a group of four wailing on him, seeming almost bored in the ease with which he dispatches them one by one. Roy grabs one of his readied explosive arrows, aiming to shoot at the roof, which strikes true and sends debris falling on a disorientated man who is knocked unconscious upon collision. 

“Wing, duck,” Barbara chimes, and Dick drops low as a man is sent sailing over him by Jason. Roy sends an arrow into the man’s forearm to keep him there. It’s rather calm, all things considered.

“Gun!” Jason grunts, the shock of a bullet ringing throughout the space. The projectile ricochets off the concrete ground, not hitting its target. 

“Get your shit!” The gunman shouts, and the three who had been scrabbling with Jason scatter to grab weapons. The man begins firing in earnest, rifle spraying bullet casings as he unloads on the room. Two of the thugs come back with bats, another with a pistol. Dick’s adversary tries to get away as well, only to be shocked in a pressure point by an escrima stick.

Roy readies his bow, preparing the shot on the rifle shooter, but he’s moving far too erratically. It’s taking an extra few beats to pin down an opportunity to fire true. 

Lunging for the table, Jason kicks it over, hunkering down behind it with Dick racing over to join him. They press up against it, bullets embedding into the thick wood by their heads. It’s only a matter of time until a bullet strikes through the weakened surface, and Roy mutters a curse as he readjusts his shot, instead firing into the forearm of the man who grabbed a pistol. The thug’s aiming is cut short by his pained scream, crumpling and dropping the pistol with a clatter. 

“Where’s the takedown, Red?” Jason grunts. 

“Give me a minute,” Roy responds, arrow reloaded and pointing at the man.

A bullet fires through the wood. “I don’t think they have a minute, Speedy,” Oracle mutters in his ear. Roy fights the urge to fire now, remaining poised as he waits for the best moment. It will always come, you just have to be patient enough to let it. 

Now. 

Roy fires, striking the man in the hip. A raw, guttural scream tears out of the man’s mouth as he crumples. Both of the vigilantes below take the opportunity, leaping out and striking at the two baseball bat wielders. It’s a quick fight after that.

Once they are left with a room full of limp bodies, Dick immediately begins patting them down for any weapons, tossing them and sending them skittering out of reach. Jason turns away, helmet tilting up to the skylight where Roy leans over the broken edge, expectant. Rolling his eyes, Roy drops down as requested, rolling a landing with an audible oof. 

“Getting old?” Oracle jokes, and Roy snorts. 

“Lets see what we have, then get out of here,” Dick decides, approaching the scattered contents of what was once on the table. “There might be something about the Gotham operation.”

Jason walks away to one of the downed men, and Dick angles himself to keep an eye on his back. Roy shoves down the urge to call him out on it, Jason’s a lot more discerning with his killing now but his family’s distrust of that fact does nothing to help him stick to it. With his attention elsewhere, patting down the men more thoroughly than just looking for weapons, Jason hasn’t noticed, so Roy won’t make him do so. 

Keeping Dick in his peripherals, Roy moves to the rifleman, kicking his limp form over with the toe of his boot. The man doesn’t even groan, and Roy sighs before bending down to check for a pulse. 

It’s there, beating fast with the pain and bleeding, but present all the same. Shrugging off his quiver, Roy pulls out the knife fit snugly inside his boot. With the point of the blade turned to the man’s shirt, he slices smoothly, pulling the fabric that is already damp with blood out of the way so he can examine the wound closer. His arrow pierced the hip, nestling deep enough to hit the sciatic nerve like he was hoping for. Good. Bastard deserves some pain.

Packing the wound with gauze, around the head of the arrow, Roy settles the man to wait for paramedics. Wiping off the blood on the rest of the man’s shirt, what is left of it anyway, he springs back to his feet, casting a curious look over to Jason.

He’s moved through several of the bodies already, although doesn’t seem to have much to show for it. All seems well, so Roy moves to Dick instead, who is reading through some of the crumpled pages from the meeting. “Anything?” He asks, receiving a noncommittal hum in answer. 

“It’s encrypted, annoyingly enough. Babs is working on it,” Dick mutters, flicking to the other side of the paper. “Shouldn’t be long.”

“Might have to take it on the road. I don’t know how much longer the rifle guy can be without medical atten—” Roy cuts himself off when a weak groan fills the space. Whipping his gaze around, he sees Jason looming over a man who is regaining consciousness. From his position, it seems to be the one who had the pistol.

“What…?” The man gasps, voice able to be heard far clearer than if the room wasn’t deadly silent.

“Mornin’,” Jason greets, and the man whimpers as he snaps his head in the direction of the word. He tries to scramble back, but Jason stands on the arrow still imbedded in the forearm, drawing a scream that stops any attempts at distance. “How about you answer some of our questions.”

“Fuck no,” The man hisses, but it’s far from intimidating given the compromised position. Jason moves his boot, slowly rolling his weight down to dig into the wound, and the man lets out a broken sob. “Fuck!”

Mechanical click, Jason clicking his tongue behind the mask, and Jason leans down, getting closer to the man’s face. He also pulls out a gun. “I’d use your words more wisely, if I were you. They might just be your last.”

“What the fuck do you want?” The man groans more than growls. Jason flicks the safety off his gun, a loud noise, and Roy squints at the weapon even with the distance limiting his ability to see in detail. He can make out the fact that it’s one of Roy’s modifications, a trick gun that has an overly loud mechanism when it comes to taking off the safety, but a silent one for putting it back on. That one had been annoying to successfully create, but it’s gotten a lot of use for intimidation. 

Turning the weapon, Jason places it firmly on the man’s forehead, a threat of a point-blank shot. “I want you dead,” he starts. Roy waits for the usual variation of but I won’t get that if you give me the next option, only to feel the slight breeze of movement next to him. 

A wing-ding goes sailing through the air, striking Jason on the neck. It bounces off the armour padding. “What the fuck?!” Jason snarls, recoiling from the man and swinging his gun around to aim at the man who threw the weapon. Dick. Who is standing there in all his idiotic glory. Roy is going to kill him. 

“Hood, I can’t let you kill him,” Dick says, holding his palms out. Roy facepalms. Fucking Bats. 

“Fuck you, asshole!” Jason snaps. Normally, Roy would be annoyed at the immediate jump to defensive anger, but here he feels it is pretty justified. “You thought the best response was to throw a batarang at me?!”

Shit. Goddamn it, Dick. “I know you have extra padding there, that it wouldn’t draw blood,” Dick explains. He signals behind him, to Roy, to get the man away from Hood with old Titans’ signals. How is this Roy’s life? What he wouldn’t give for the Bats to all get therapy. Individually. Because no therapist could get anywhere close to unpacking all of that in a group setting. 

“That’s always what I’m going to be to you, isn’t it?!” Jason shouts. This situation is spiralling quickly, and Roy needs to gather some kind of control here. While it would be healthy to discuss this, shouting it across an abandoned warehouse is far from discussing. 

“Hey!” Roy calls, drawing both of their glares which are palpable even through the masks. Jason’s softens when he realises it’s Roy, releasing his tension with a heavy sigh. “Thank you! Lets deal with the family issues after we interrogate the man.” Roy walks closer, between the dissolved standoff and up to the man cowering on the floor. Grinning, he towers over him, taking a delight in the thug’s reaction. 

“What— What do you want to know?” The man asks, gaze flicking behind Roy to both Dick and Jason. It appears the spat worked out in their favour. “How to decrypt the files? I can tell you that.”

Humming a note, Roy reaches closer, ignoring the flinch it draws and closing his hand around the injured forearm. He pokes at the wound, examining it and the arrow’s condition. “That’d be nice, but we can handle that. There’s something else we want.” Glancing up from the wound to the fearful eyes, he pauses to let the man stew in his own terror. “Your Gotham contact.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. Roy looks back down, rubbing the wound between his fingers as he twists the limb under the guise of getting a better look. It’s enough to crack the guy’s resolve. “Fine! Yes! Okay. Just don’t hurt me.”

“We won’t need to,” Dick adds, a flinch from the arm beneath Roy’s grip as the man is reminded of his presence. 

“McIvery. Gary McIvery. He— everyone calls him Grey.” Roy steps back at the answer, glancing to Dick for confirmation. After a beat, he nods, and Jason steps forward to glower over the guy once more.

“We don’t need to hurt you because everyone inside will. They don’t like child predators, in any form,” Jason tells him, quietly, like sharing a secret. The criminal’s eyes widen even more, before rolling into the back of the head as Jason’s strike connects. Slumping, the body falls unconscious, not that any of the three of them really pay attention to it.

“Jay—” Dick begins, but Jason only ignores him, moving to put a few steps of distance between them. “Jay, I’m sorry—”

“What the fuck was that, Dick?” Jason snaps, whirling back around to face his brother. “I haven’t killed anyone in months, why did you think you had to save that bastard?!”

“Look, Jay—”

“Am I always goin’ to be that to you? How I was when I was insane? Just because we have different beliefs doesn’t mean I’m goin’ to murder every fucker I see. I wasn’t even that bad when I first came back!” Jason continues, steamrolling over all of Dick’s attempts. Dick seems at a loss, mouth opening and closing a few times as he tries to come up with a response in the few words he’s being allowed by his brother. Roy watches, but doesn’t step in. 

“It was me!” Dick shouts, and Jason falters from his argument. Seizing the opportunity, Dick powers on. “I— I didn’t even know you were married, let alone dating anyone. It made me question how well I know you. How much of what I see of you is who you were before? You don’t deserve to be compared to the boy that died, Jay. But so much has happened and I’ve been trying to fix our relationship but you didn’t feel like you could tell me. Were you scared of it getting back to B? Did you think I would be telling him everything you told me?”

Jason seems shocked. Roy is a little surprised himself that Dick is admitting this. For as much as everyone likes to believe he is the most emotionally well-adjusted of the bats, he is still a Bat. “I don’t do well with not being trusted. And I took that out on you. I’m sorry.”

Slowly, Jason lets go of his anger, tilting his helmet up with a sigh. Roy watches him unwind. “I didn’t choose to not tell you. Well, at first I did. Because it was new and fragile and I didn’t want to deal with the silent wondering of when I’d fuck it up.” Roy can feel Dick’s silenced denial at this, but he lets his brother speak uninterrupted. “Then it just became so normal. It’s not like I’ve been hiding it, I haven’t for a while. No one asked, and it never came up ‘s all.”

“I want you to tell me things of your own volition, if you’re comfortable with doing so. I haven’t pried because I didn’t want to chase you away.”

Jason goes to run a hand through the back of his hair, only to press it to the smooth shell of his helmet. “That… yeah. Okay.”

“Okay?” Dick echoes. Jason nods, a little awkwardly, but Dick reads the deeper forgiveness and understanding. He grins, pouncing forward and wrapping himself around Jason in a firm hug. “I love you!”

“Okay that’s enough,” Jason declares, trying to slip the grip. Dick remains steadfast, bargaining for a “love you” back, and Roy shakes his head as he moves to leave the two to their bickering. There’s still papers to be collected from where they fell to the floor, after all.

As he’s bumping them into a cohesive stack, the rustle barely audible over the easy barbs being tossed behind him, he pauses. Something made a noise. Casually, he throws a searching look at the area around him, as if he’s surveying for signs of further evidence, in order to subtly check his surroundings. 

Another light thud, and Roy snaps his gaze to a window, high off the ground but still reachable with either a powerful jump or a small amount of help. Swinging his bow to his front and looping the string back off his torso is done with quick ease, allowing him to slowly shuffle closer as he slips a standard arrow out of the quiver to nock. The argument ebbs away behind him, undoubtedly the two brothers wondering what he is up to, but Roy simply continues his quiet advance. 

“Arsenal?” Barbara chimes in his ear. “I was off the channel. What’s going on?”

“Heard something,” He breathes in response, and Barbara falls silent as he reaches the entrance of the warehouse.

Shoving open the door, Roy whirls around on whoever is hopefully still out there, his eyes adjusting and revealing—

A kid. 

Roy immediately releases the tension on his string, dropping the arrow at his feet, shrugging on the bow to swing around and rest on his back. They’re small. Crouched in the shadow the warehouse casts. When they look up, the light catches on the shine of tears bubbling at the edges of their eyes. 

“Hey,” Roy murmurs. 

“Arsenal,” The girl gasps, voice raspy and low. “You— I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay!” Roy hurries to say, “Whatever happened, I can help. So can my partner.” This calms the girl significantly. She sniffles, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve, leaving a smear of grime across the patch of skin. 

Opening her mouth, she instead shrinks back when the door opens again, and Jason emerges. “Red, what’s going on?”

“Hood, stay—” Roy begins, worried that the intimidating figure of Red Hood will only further worry the girl in front of him, only for said kid to perk up significantly.

“Hood!” She calls. 

“Wait. Paloma?” Jason asks, stepping out from behind Roy. “What are you doin’ here?”

“¡Gracias a Dios! Hood, did you get them? The cabrón?” She demands, all fury and spite. “They been snatchin’ kids, y’know?” Spitting, she curls her lip in disgust, and Roy realises that the deeper rasp to her voice is a Gotham accent. Presumably a Crime Alley one.

“Paloma, why are you here?” Jason demands again. “You should be in Gotham.”

“I got snatched, tarado.” Roy doesn’t know much Spanish, but he knows enough to know Jason is being called a dumbass. “My Mami is going to kill me.”

“You’re the kid with the sticky fingers,” Jason realises. Paloma grins, and Jason looks as if he wants to scream. “Of all the kids they could have taken…”

Dick steps closer, flashing a winning smile at the girl who is still sitting on the ground. “Did you hurt your ankle?” He asks, gesturing to the limb in question. Which is held gingerly in front of her. She winces, nodding, and rolling her eyes.

“‘M not a baby. Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Let me have a look. How’d you hurt it?”

Instead of answering, she points at the window. Dick puts two and two together. “Ah.” He moves closer, crouching down to assess the ankle with a slow and gentle movement. Missing the glance Paloma shoots at Jason, who nods in reassurance. She allows the poking and prodding with reluctance.

“So you gave them the slip, with some parts to pawn,” Jason prompts, and Paloma turns her attention to him. “Then what?”

“Sold ‘em to a guy, used the money to get a damn library card so I could use the computers to look for flights. Still had to figure out the ‘unaccompanied minor’ shit, but I was gonna pay someone to sign for me. Would’a flown to Jersey an’ probably bum a ride from someone.”

“That is… horrifying,” Roy mutters, unable to think past what if that was Lian not only returning to Gotham after being kidnapped, but doing so in such a potentially dangerous and roundabout way. What are they feeding the kids in that damn city? And Roy is going there for Christmas. With his daughter. He’s a horrible father. If she gets taken—

Warmth presses on his shoulder. Roy snaps from his spiral, shoving it away with the newfound distance from the thoughts and glancing to Jason. His helmet is still keeping Paloma’s gaze, but his head is tilted slightly to Roy. Right. Not the time.

“—sprained. No breaks, so it should be good with some rest. Keep off it for a week or so, then gentle exercise on it for an additional three,” Dick instructs. It must be a pretty bad sprain, then. “If it doesn’t improve at all in a week, go see a doctor. Leslie runs a free clinic in the area, okay?”

“How the hell am I supposed to get home, then?” Paloma asks, moreso to the world than to any of them. “Fuck.”

“I’ll take you,” Dick and Jason say at the same time, only to glance at each other in surprise.

“Hood, I’m going back to Gotham anyway. It makes more sense for me to take her. I’ll use the batplane so that we don’t have to deal with customs,” Dick elaborates. Considering this, Jason turns to Paloma, who looks between the two brothers. 

“Fuck yeah I wanna go in the batplane,” Paloma cheers. “No one is going to believe me back home.”

“You’re sure?” Jason asks again, and the girl nods decisively. “Alright.”

Dick stands up, dusting his hands. “I’ll take you to my hotel room, I haven’t been staying there anyway, and pick you up tomorrow night,” He tells her, before looking Jason in the eye. “Hood can come check on you in Gotham, if he comes home for Christmas.”

“Oh for fucks— Fine. Yes. Okay. I’ll come to Christmas,” Jason snaps, throwing his hands in the air. “But I can’t be held to staying the whole time.”

Even with the firm hints Roy has been dropping that Jason would agree to Christmas, Dick has a moment of bewildered silence in the wake of the declaration. Like he didn’t believe Jason would actually go through with it. Which, in any other circumstance, Roy would agree with. “But only if Arsenal and Elle come.”

“Yes. Great. Of course,” Dick says, nodding so hard one would worry about whiplash. “I’ll take this one to the hotel, and meet you back at your home,” Dick gestures to Paloma, as if anyone needed clarification to who he meant, and the girl looks confused but with a tint of amusement. “Elle will be so excited. You won’t regret this. I’ll make sure of it,” Dick continues babbling, and Roy snickers at the frantic edge to his speech. 

“Piss off before I take it back,” Jason groans, and Dick hurries to gather up Paloma and swing off into the dark.

Once after a beat, Barbara perks back up in the communication line. “Good bust, guys. I’ve got EMTs on route, so I suggest you scatter.”

“Thanks, Barbie,” Jason says, pulling out his grappling gun from his belt.

“I have to go, I left Red Robin hanging. See you sometime.”

“Christmas,” Roy adds, giving a shit-eating grin to Jason when the man twists to glare at him through the white lenses of his helmet. “Red will be there for Christmas.”

There’s a moment of silence, then Barbara murmurs, “See you at Christmas,” and leaves with a gentle beep. Jason immediately takes out his earpiece, and Roy follows the movement. 

“Tell me I haven’t made a mistake,” Jason begs to Roy, who laughs and walks closer, wrapping his arms around Jason’s shoulders. “I can’t believe I just said I would go.”

Roy can’t promise Jason he won’t regret pieces of this. Odds are he will, because this is his family. His family which have hurt each other in deep ways, but still love and care for each other more ferociously than the way the sun burns. It’ll be hard, and Roy knows there will be family drama, but that is how it is. Having so many people all different with a variety of experiences in one place. So, instead, Roy simply says, “I’m proud of you.”

It’s enough.

Chapter Text

“Lian is going to get taken off me,” Roy mutters, pacing another length of the room. Usually, it’s what he does when he’s puzzling out a mechanical problem. “And I’d deserve it! What the fuck was I thinking?”

“Roy—”

“Taking her into the most dangerous city in the world? What the fuck am I doing?” She had been so excited, when he’d told her this morning. Now that everything had been confirmed, they had decided they should loop her in, and she had been positively buzzing at the news. But she didn’t know the danger the city poses, that it needs so many vigilante protectors. Fuck.

“Please, Roy—”

“This is what I was worried about with Jade. I’m a fucking hypocrite, I was so worried about Jade coming back to take Lian and put her in danger, and I turn around and agree to this? I should have just had her stay with Connor for Christmas—”

“Roy!” Jason snaps, snagging one of Roy’s wrists from where he’s shuffled to the end of the bed. Roy stops, staring at Jason, abruptly brought to earth. “Breathe,” Jason says. 

Oh. His breath is actually kind of fast. And his legs are tingly. “I think I’m going to sit down,” Roy announces, right before he collapses on the carpet. Jason goes with him, practically falling to the floor in his attempt to follow him the whole way. Not that his partner pays it any mind, instead moving his hands to place them on Roy’s shoulders. Tears burn at the edges of Roy’s eyes, and as he takes a stuttering breath one slips down his cheek. 

“What do you need?” Jason asks, the phrase familiar yet a little foreign. Roy blinks, turning the syllables over in his head until they are meaningless and then moulding them back into something he can understand. “C’mon, Red, talk to me.”

“I—” He feels that vaguely floaty feeling, the one his sponsor warned was building dissociation, his brain trying to chase that comfort of a high. It doesn’t scare him as much anymore, he knows the urges aren’t him immediately slipping back into old habits, but it still unsettles him. Always will, he knows. 

God, he’s glad he was clean before he got involved with Jason. He lost his mother to the same drug, he can’t imagine being in a relationship with someone addicted to the same shit. 

“Roy,” Jason says, voice that unique blend of gentle and stern, like Ollie in the early days, when he was still nerves bundled into the Speedy costume. “Tell me about the thing you’re tinkerin’ with. I’ve seen you bein’ all squirrelly like when you’re tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Trying to make one of your Bat-rebreathers more compact and lightweight. Dick always complained about them, even back in the Titans. Figured it gets difficult to deal with for all of you, but especially Damian with his smaller build. It’s something I’ve been meaning to take a crack at for ages. The mechanism is fascinating, I could probably do some tweaks to it to see if I could make it deploy a counteragent to fear-gas if I could get my hands on a sample of the generic strand you mentioned, but in terms of trying to optimise it, it’s already pretty good. Still, there’s some changes I’m gonna try to make.” Roy’s rambling begins stilted, his tongue swollen as his mind moves like sludge to piece his thoughts into spoken words. As he continues, he picks up more momentum, his awareness trickling back into himself. 

His breathing quickens, the distant emotions rushing back in, and he distantly nods to a question Jason asks. Warmth encases him, weights twisting around him and pressing him to a solid surface that takes an extra beat to be recognised as a chest, and Roy grapples for control over his lungs. 

For a time, they simply breathe, exist, on the floor of their bedroom. 

Eventually, Roy leans back, Jason’s arms turning lax around his shoulders. He looks Jason in the eye, the man giving him a quiet smile that he returns with a strained one of his own, and takes another deep breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Roy sighs. “Sorry, about that.” Jason frowns. “What?”

“If ‘m not allowed to apologise for my shit, you sure as hell can’t either,” He says. “And, for the record, you ain’t anywhere near Jade in terms of being a shitty parent.”

Laughing, perhaps a little bitterly, Roy rubs the heel of his palm over his right eye, sweeping tears from his waterline. “You’re a little biased, Jay.”

“Not biased. I’m simply an expert on your parentin’. And trust me, you’re a good dad,” Jason tells Roy so simply, as if it really is that easy, and Roy squints at him. “Okay, you need more than that. Lian’s happy, right?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Roy answers, huffing a laugh at the thought of some of his daughter’s impressive mood swings, especially when she was younger. 

“She’s a good kid,” Jason says more than asks, but Roy nods in agreement all the same. “I think to have as good a head on her shoulders as she does, she’d need a damn good father to guide her. I certainly wasn’t so concerned about others at her age.” Resisting the urge to debunk that with you needed to look out for yourself at her age, you were almost out on the streets, Roy recognises the point his partner is making. Lian is not only a good, sweet kid, but more importantly she’s a happy kid. Even with no mother and unrealistic expectations for what the average person should be able to achieve.

“Lian’s pretty damn amazin’,” Jason continues. “And while a bunch of that is her, there’s a fuck tonne of it that is you.” 

“You suck,” Roy murmurs, dropping his head against Jason’s collarbone. He’s using his love for Lian against him. “I’m kicking you out and breaking up with you. You only get casual booty calls now.”

Humming, Jason rests his chin on Roy’s head. Grinning into Jason’s shirt, Roy allows himself to bask in the contact. He can’t stay here forever, nor does he want to, when he has to go pick up Lian from school. “I think I could live with that.”

“Am I just a piece of ass to you?” Roy teases, and Jason stiffens, before trying to hurriedly walk his statement back. “Relax,” Roy interrupts, nuzzling closer. “I’m winding you up.”

“You’re an ass,” Jason mutters, and Roy laughs at the definitely intentional wordplay. 

Eventually, Roy does pull away, stumbling to stand on half-asleep feet. Pulling Jason up with him, Roy shakes himself out before wandering to the bathroom sink in order to splash his face. Water drips onto the front of his shirt, hanging from his hair, but he pays it no mind as he wipes his skin dry. 

Jason lingers in the bathroom doorway, stepping back when Roy approaches to let him past. Then he snags the other’s wrist, pulling Roy short from another step. Attention grabbed, Roy twists to look Jason in the eyes. “What’s up?”

“You know I wouldn’t take Lian to Gotham if I didn’t think she’d be safe, right?” Jason asks, tone almost shy. Not shy, more so nervous. Unsure on what answer he will hear. Roy feels the unique hum of endearment and guilt that comes with loving Jason sometimes, loving anyone really, but he leans closer to cup Jason’s cheek. Impulsively, he places his other hand on the other side of Jason’s face, sandwiching him between his palms. 

“Yes. Yes, Jason. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s… I know you’d protect her, and you wouldn’t willingly endanger her. I know you love her,” Roy says this very seriously, staring at Jason without wavering for a moment. It’s a little undercut by the fact that Jason’s lips are pushing together from the light pressure Roy is applying, but there’s been a little too many raw, serious feelings this afternoon. 

Swallowing, Roy can feel the work of his jaw for the motion, Jason nods. He leans back, and grabs his hands. “Trust me. I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t completely certain she’ll be okay. Although I will have to go and shake down some people while I’m there. Some have forgotten the rule that kids are off limits.”

The grin the man gives Roy is all jagged and sharp, anger and righteous fury. Ferociously protective in an easy way, rarely seen outside of the privacy of their own home, from a man who is used to hiding his attachments until he has enough strength to protect them.

He loves it.

It’s the first snow of the year, the next day. Later than usual, but nonetheless beautiful. Lian is ecstatic, it’s her first day of winter break and she gets a snow day. Although she hasn’t yet had the chance to go to the park to frolick, as they’re currently wrapping gifts.

“Dad,” Lian begins, drawing both of their attention as Jason settles down on the floor with them. “I thought you didn’t have a family.”

Roy snorts, trying to stop the noise rather belatedly and instead choking on his own breath. Jason glares at him, the sight distorted by watery eyes and Roy pounds at his chest. The innocence with which it had been said… God Roy loves how accidentally funny kids are.

“I do, munchkin. Adopted, like Roy,” Jason says dutifully, throwing another sour look at Roy past their daughter. “I don’t see them often, though.”

“Why?” Lian asks. Roy purses his lips, but lets Jason figure out how he wants to answer. He begins pulling out the wrapping paper they keep in an old gift bag, spreading the rolls out on the floor before them.

“Families can be complicated. Sometimes, there’s so much history it’s hard to move past it,” Jason answers. Lian frowns, scrunching her nose, and Jason gives a small smile at the expression. “You’ll understand better when you’re older.”

Groaning, she always hates being told that, Lian pouts as she watches Jason produce each gift from the folds of the shopping bags. “Then you have to tell me about them!” She had amused herself while trolling the mall’s stores by picking up random gifts, bringing them to show her fathers and see if they made the cut. Several of them did, and Lian seemed to enjoy the guessing game enough to not bother asking about who they were shopping for.

Drawing out a contemplating hum, Jason looks back to Lian, who drops the sulky pout and adopts pleading eyes instead. Holding the suspension, Jason eventually caves with a grin, nodding in agreement. “Alright.”

“Yes!” Lian cheers, crossing her legs and watching Jason with rapt attention. 

Clearing his throat a little awkwardly, Roy knows all too well how daunting that look on her face can be, Jason picks up the first gift. Showing it to Lian on its way into Roy’s hands, he begins, “That’s for Uncle Dick.”

“I have two Uncle Dick’s?” Lian asks, a note of awe in her voice. Jason huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I have the same Uncle Dick?!”

“He’s my brother,” Jason explains, ruffling her hair. “There’s also Aunty Barbara, my sister. They’re together.” At the moment, anyway. Roy’s given up on trying to track when the two are on and off, and it’ll probably only be harder for Lian to understand. Still, if she thinks of Barbara as Jason’s sister it should be fine. Mostly.

“I thought Uncle Dick and Aunt Barbs were my aunt and uncle like Aunty Kori is?” Lian questions, squinting in suspicion at Jason. “Is this a joke?”

“No, sweetheart. They are your aunt and uncle that way,” Roy pipes up, reaching for the scissors. Jason grabs Barbara’s gift, placing it on the underside of the wrapping paper in front of him. “They just are also Jason’s siblings.”

Disgruntled, Lian lets it go, watching them wrap the gifts. For Dick, they bought a trio of photo frames, along with printing three photos. The frames are engraved with little elephants, subtle circus motifs throughout, and Roy works on opening the backs by bending the little piece of petal with the closed scissors.

In one goes a photo of Lian perched on Dick’s shoulders, the picture snapped when he was here recently, with her clutching a hot chocolate that rests amongst Dick’s hair. Both are grinning, Lian pointing to something excitedly off frame. 

In the second Roy places a photo of the whole Bat family, one of the outtakes from Alfred’s birthday gift, according to Jason. Alfred always asks for a photo with the whole family, and it’s become a tradition in which no one dares to kick up a stink over anything. Jason has already warned Roy that Alfred will expect both him and Lian in next year’s. In this photo, they’re all a mess, Jason and Tim elbowing each other, Steph throwing up bunny ears behind them both while fighting off Duke, Cass leaning against Dick who is howling in laughter. Damian scowls at them all, having retreated to stand by Bruce, Alfred, and Babs. Bruce has a ridiculously soft smile on his face, and even the corners of Alfred’s mouth are twitched upwards. 

The final photo is one from the most recent Titans meetup, the first team all together in civilian clothes, squashed into the booth of a diner in Jump City. Everyone is glowing with smiles, all looking at the camera rather than the more candid appearance of the other two, but nonetheless casual and clearly them. 

“I’m in Uncle Dick’s gift!” Lian squeals, extremely excited by this turn of events. She cheers.

Jason snorts, taping up the wrapping for Barbara’s gift. It’s a thriller, some old reference to Jason and Barbara’s early days of bonding over such books, as well as a more joking mug that reads ‘I’m the real boss here’ across its front. 

Roy finishes at the same time as Jason, and Jason grabs the next gifts. 

“This one is for your Aunt Cass,” Jason tells Lian, showing her the gold keychain and Bat-themed leg warmers. The keychain is the silhouette of ballet slippers, ribbons undone and frozen in a gentle sprawl, with her name engraved on the back in a curling font. The leg warmers had been an odd find, but Jason had called them ‘accidental Black Bat/Batgirl merch’, as the Bat symbol was only outlined. Likely supposed to be a stylistic choice, it had worked out well for them.

“She likes dancing?” Lian asks, and Jason nods.

“Adores it. She loves dancin’, and music, especially songs without words.” Lian nods, and turns her gaze to the other gift. It’s a glittering box, patterned with jewels and with a firm weight to it. “This is for Uncle Duke.”

“A box?” Lian asks, tone a little flat. 

Roy takes it from Jason, beginning to wrap it as he explains, “It’s a puzzle box. You have to figure out how to open it. He likes puzzles, as well as anythin’ bright and shiny. He sees things a little differently from you and me.” 

“Is he special like Aunty Kori?”

Jason gives a vague confirmation, twisting his hand in a ‘so-so’ motion. “Kind of. He has powers, but he was born on Earth.”

That explanation satisfies Lian, who takes the wrapped gift Roy has just finished. She leans over to place it on the slowly growing pile, and grabs another unwrapped one. “Who’s this for?” She asks, examining the small rectangle. Turning the box in her hands, she runs a finger over the bumps of the lettering.

“It’s a multi-tool. Or a swiss army knife,” Roy answers, holding out a palm. “Got lots of little tools so it is easy to bring everywhere.” It’s a cool photography/techie variant that Roy picked up from one of his favourite equipment stores around here. Roy uses his incredibly often, even if he has better solutions in costume, because it makes it easier to explain what his civilian identity is doing with tools that are definitely not safety-approved. He’d been worried of the Bats already having a solution, but Jason had seems confident it’s something that would have been overlooked. 

“It’s for Uncle Tim. He’s into photography and messin’ around with a bunch of smart stuff,” Jason adds, keeping his attention on wrapping Duke’s gift. Roy takes the weighted box, wrapping it smoothly as Jason finishes with the puzzle box and hands it back to Lian’s waiting hands. 

“This?” Lian asks again, holding out the next gift, one she chose that made the cut. It’s a set of fluffy pyjamas, rather high quality in material. The pants are white and covered in purple hearts, with across the butt saying ‘I died for this ass’. It’s likely supposed to be a reference to working in the gym, but Jason had snorted so hard and immediately deemed it to be a worthy gift to include, which makes Roy think it is going to be taken far more literally. The shirt is the same purple, with across the chest the bedazzled words ‘You have two hands for two reasons.’ Roy is so glad Lian just liked the colour, because it had been a little mortifying for his young daughter to be producing such a charged pair of pyjamas. 

Taking the crinkling plastic covering off her, Jason places it face down on the paper, talking in order to draw the girl’s attention off the gift itself. “That’s for Aunt Steph. She loves anythin’ funny.”

Handing back the box of the swiss-knife, now covered in small christmas trees, Roy gets given a pack of alcohol markers, and an alcohol-safe sketchpad. “Damian, right?” He asks Jason, who nods. 

“Uncle Damian likes to draw?” Lian asks, grinning. “I also like to do that!” 

“Yes, you do,” Jason responds, ruffling her hair with four fingers, his thumb holding a cut piece of tape. “I don’t know if anyone has introduced him to these markers yet. B doesn’t know how to draw a stick-figure. The sketchpad will be filled with animal drawings soon enough.”

“B?” Lian echoes, and Jason stills for a beat. Roy glances his way, but it seems to be more due to surprise than Jason being uncomfortable. He probably isn’t used to casually mentioning his father, as it’s only become a habit in recent months.

Swallow, the man nods, responding a little shakily, “Yeah, Bruce. He’s— He’s your grandad.”

Lian’s eyes double in size. “I have another grandad?”

“Yeah, Lian, you do,” Jason says, voice a little bittersweet and thick. “Bruce, he likes homemade things, or things that are reminders.” 

Looking for a gift that matches the description, Lian only draws up short. “Where is his?”

“We’re getting him a gift all together,” Jason explains. It had always been the plan, even before they were coming to Christmas, because Dick knew it was the only way Jason could overcome his unease at giving Bruce a gift. Jason had agreed after talking it over with Roy. It’s a photo album, with a few pages dedicated to each of them to put their favourite photos in. Roy thinks the idea is ridiculously sweet. Especially since there are two editions, one for civilian lives, and one for their vigilante lives. 

“Then whose is this?” Lian questions, holding up a crisp copy of William Shakespeare’s Comedies. It’s a heavy book, and she plops it quickly down on her lap.

“That’s for Alfred. He’s your great-grandfather. When I was a bit older than you, I accidently spilled water on his copy of the book. I stole it the last time I was home, and paid to have it restored.” The cover looks different, however, from the medium blue with gold engravings that Roy had last seen in it. “The original ruined pages have been dyed and used to make the cover,” He adds for Roy’s benefit. Now that Roy is looking for it, he can see the water-bled texture on the cover, the printed words somehow glittering with gold foil.

Jason gently lifts it off Lian, giving her the soft package of Stephanie’s pyjamas. “Woah. Alfred is like, my grandest father,” Lian murmurs, and Roy grins with Jason at the words. 

“Grandestfather,” Jason repeats, laughing. “Please call him that, it’s amazin’.”

“Why don’t you go place these under the tree?” Roy tells Lian, pointing to the pile of now wrapped gifts as he holds out Damian’s. There’s already a sizable collection, some for Roy’s side of the family and others for Lian. There is one for Jason and one for Roy from each other, somewhere in the mass of wrapping paper. Neither know what’s in their own.

Roy is really excited to see Jason’s reaction to his present. 

Lian does the job with great enthusiasm, practically snatching Alfred’s gift off Jason when he is finished. 

Gathering the materials is done quietly and quickly, both of them listening to the girl’s excited chattering about all these new members of her family. As she walks past Jason who is putting the scissors back on the coffee table, the man snaps out and grabs her off the ground, tossing her a little up in the air.

Squealing in joy, Lian giggles as she is placed back on the floor, although Jason keeps his hands on her shoulders. “Can I count on you to be my baking assistant, later?” He asks her with mock seriousness. “I told you, last year, that you can help this year,” Jason reminds her, and Lian cheers. 

Every Christmas, Jason makes two recipes, leftover from his time with his mother. Macarons, which he also makes several other times throughout the year because they are always such a hit, made with the techniques his mother would use on the rare occasions they had the ingredients for it. As well as a gâteau St-Honoré, the recipe slightly modified to taste absolutely heavenly, that he reserves for very special occasions. In part to preserve the novelty, and also because of the huge time and skill sink it is . The recipe was picked up by his mother before he was in the picture, and passed on to him during his youth. Roy just knows Lian is going to have it passed down to her, someday, making it a family recipe.

“Yes!” Lian chirps, nodding her head rapidly. “I will be the best baker ever!”

“Glad to hear it,” Jason says, smiling wide. “Now, what do you say we go to the park and enjoy the snow?”

“Yes!” Both Roy and Lian hiss.

Later, Jason mildly regrets suggesting the activity when he gets snowballs hurled at him with startling accuracy. Lian is definitely following in her father’s footsteps there, but only half are actually from her, although he can’t prove it easily. 

It’s worth it for the adorable snowman they make, Lian directing them with a firm determination to make the best snow creation ever. 

They leave behind three angels in the snow, left to slowly be enveloped by fresh powder, hands forever interlocked, and together.

Chapter Text

Jason is the one that drives them to Gotham. He insists on it, surprisingly, and when Roy asks why Jason simply says, “Gotham drivers hate foreigners.”

Which. Is vaguely ominous and definitely speaking from experience, so Roy settles into the passenger seat for the drive. They’re in the city for a week, so he supposes he’ll have to get used to playing passenger princess. 

There are worse roles to take. 

Lian, seated behind Jason with bags of clothes next to her, is enamoured by the sight of the Gotham bridge that connects the city's islands to the wider New Jersey.

When they are in the city properly, Jason's driving demeanor shifts. 

New York is full with crowded streets that are packed with pushy drivers. Roy has adapted to this, and he can navigate the populated roads with the confidence needed to get anywhere at a reasonable time. He’s good at that. 

Jason cuts across three-lanes with ease, taking sharp corners at the last minute, avoiding cars that speed through red lights casually. Every action makes Roy’s life flash before his eyes, and the entire thing is a teasing dance with death. 

They'd already decided at which of Jason’s safehouses they would be staying at. Roy had refused point blank to stay in Crime Alley or any of its surrounding areas, with Jason readily agreeing, and so they settled on one of Jason’s lesser used places in the Upper West Side. Roy could kiss Batman himself in the pure joy and relief he feels when they finally arrive there. Lian bursts open her door and bounces ahead, Jason immediately sticking his head into the car trunk, leaving Roy to stumble out of the car and try to calm his racing heart.

He hates Gotham.

Bags are dropped at his feet, Jason circling back for the rest, and Roy tugs them up onto his shoulders. Lian bounces on her toes at the elevator, waiting until her fathers have walked closer before slapping the button to call it to their floor. 

“What floor?” Lian asks, hand hovering over the rows of buttons. 

“Eighth,” Jason answers, and Roy recognises it as the top floor. Makes sense, easiest to be unseen when doing less than legal activities. And when trying to conceal a secret identity. 

Doors closed, the elevator rises, and Roy is infinitely grateful no one else tries to use it when they're in it. The idea of a Gothamite in an enclosed space with them is a little too much today. Everything about the city feels like a little too much in general, but he’s holding his judgement as much as he can. Jason came from this city, there has to be some bright spots amongst all the damn smog.

This thought is further challenged when Jason takes the time to undo six different locks. His partner can be paranoid on a good day, but this is something else entirely. No one has six locks without a good reason. Is it too late to go back home?

At the concerned look Roy gives him, Jason waves a hand and says, “These are to keep Bats out. Or at least slow them down, because if they're goin’ to freeload off me, they should work for it.”

“Why are there bats in here? They live in caves,” Lian asks, voice a little distant as she investigates where she is staying. 

“Different kind of bat,” Roy tells her. Lian takes the explanation easily, far more preoccupied with sticking her head in every cabinet in the kitchen than worrying about Gotham's wildlife. Someday Roy isn't going to be able to explain away with half-truths, and he certainly won't hide it from her, but he wants to keep that part of his world safely separate for as long as possible. 

Jason goes around turning all the appliances on at the sockets. Roy has crashed at exactly one of Jason's Gotham safehouses before, but it was much less furnished than this one. It feels much less like a ‘just in case’ and far more like an actual home. 

“A friend of mine stays here with her two sons,” Jason says. “I offered her a better place, where her two sons could have a room each, but she insisted they were young enough to share and she should be on her feet by the time they aren't.”

It's sweet, and exactly something Roy would expect. He has no doubt this woman was one of the working girls Red Hood is infamous for protecting, and that Jason is severely undercharging her for rent. It isn't like he's hurting for money, afterall. 

“Where is she now?” Roy asks, placing the bags next to the arm of the sofa. “I know you didn't kick her out for us.”

“She visits her aunt and uncle for Christmas, and I checked if it was alright if I commandeered the empty space.” Roy isn't complaining, it beats the far more crime-riddled areas of Gotham. He came around to the idea of how they were spending their holidays, but that is too far if you ask him.

“So the locks are to stop them dropping in on her?” Roy clarifies, opening the bag they put the necessary Christmas presents in. There are far too many fragile pieces, and he'd rather have them laid out flat where there is less chance of them breaking after surviving the car ride. 

Sighing, Jason moves down the hall with their luggage, calling back over his shoulder, “I had to warn her when I offered it. If they get through all six, she knows it's one of them and she doesn't have to panic.” Sounds like a pretty scuffed set up, but whatever works. 

Grabbing Lian's bags, he goes to find the wayward girl, locating her in what must be the sons’ room. Twin beds on either side, one patterned with dinosaurs and the other with fish. Lian, to no one's surprise, has claimed the dinosaur bed as her own for the remainder of her stay. Plopping the bags on the empty bed, he is immediately bombarded with a Lian in his arms, chattering as she leans past him to get to her bags.

Chuckling, Roy picks her up properly, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She lets out a cry that toes the line of anger and excitement, a rare sort of battle-cry, and begins pounding at his back. It doesn't do anything to stop him from walking out of the room.

“Hey, love?” Roy asks, wandering to where the open bedroom door is. “Any idea where Lian is?”

Jason looks up, likely to give a proper response, only to see their daughter's legs sticking in the air over his shoulders. He smiles, and adjusts his answer. “No, sorry. Is she not in the other room?”

“I looked, but I just couldn't see her. I'm worried we forgot her.”

“I'm right here!” Lian squeals. Neither of them acknowledge it.

“Huh. Well, I'm sure she'll turn up. She never was really good at hide and seek—”

“Hey!” 

“—And I need an assistant for my bakin’,” Jason finishes. Roy shrugs, bouncing Lian on his shoulder, who giggles around her annoyance. “What do you have there?” Jason tacks on the question, playing at casual curiosity.

“Me!” Lian yelps. Roy adjusts his grip on her.

“Figured I'd put the bag of presents in the car, since we’re bringing them with us to Christmas,” Roy says, lying smoothly. He’s breathing around the urge to break the ruse, to laugh, and Jason’s impressive poker face really shines with the genuine casualness he holds himself. The man can talk circles around people, convince them of the most outrageous lies, but the second someone flirts or shows their attraction to him he becomes a lost mess.

“I'm not presents!” Lian insists. Jason cocks his head, not that she can see it. 

“Did you hear somethin’?”

“Yes!”

“Nope,” Roy answers. “What did it sound like?” 

“A mouse. Something small that eats everythin’ in sight,” Jason ponders, frowning. “maybe I'm imaginin’ it.”

“No you're not!” Lian tries again. He has to give her credit, she's not giving up on being heard. The blood is probably rushing to her head, too.

“Well!” Roy chirps, spinning on his heel. “I’m just gonna go to the car really quick. Be back in a minute!” he walks forward two steps, Lian beginning to squirm in earnest, only for Jason to call for him to wait. One foot comically raised, he pauses in the doorway.

Jason adopts a wary tone, adding, “That bag looks a bit strange.”

“How so?”

“That's because I'm not a bag, Daddy!” Lian snaps, not in anger but rather in excited hope that she's finally being seen. Roy twists, looking back to his partner, who has an exaggerated look of surprise on his face.

“Lian? That's where you went!” Jason gasps, walking closer and lifting her up off Roy's shoulder. He clutches her in his arms, and she laughs as her legs hang in the air. “Why didn't you say anythin’, munchkin?” 

“I did. You guys need your ears checked,” Lian sasses, meeting Roy's eyes. “And daddy needs glasses.”

“I do not,” Roy insists. “I can see perfectly fine, little miss.”

Lian sticks her tongue out, Then looks up at Jason and asks, “Don't old people need glasses, Dad?”

“Why yes they do,” Jason purrs, grinning at Roy. “And if your dad needs glasses…”

“Roy is old!” Lian declares, wriggling an arm and pointing it at him with a bubbling giggle. “Dad is so old he remembers the dinos!” Jason cackles, while Roy clutches at his chest as if he's been struck through the heart.

“I have been betrayed,” He cries, collapsing on the floor and throwing his arm over his eyes. “By my own family. My daughter and my husband, they have hurt me terribly.”

“Drama llama,” Lian mutters, and Roy chokes on a laugh at the pure derision in her voice. Jason similarly snorts from where he's still standing, letting the girl go when she squirms to get free. She comes up beside Roy, leaning over and sending locks of her hair dangling above his eyes. “It's okay dad. Even if you're old and weird, we still love you.” She reaches and gives him a light pat on the head.

“Hold on, when was weird ever on the table?” Roy questions, a little indignant.

“Shhhh, it's okay,” Lian comforts him. Jason practically wheezes, unable to get a full breath in with his shoulders shaking, the noise drawing an eye roll from the man on the floor. 

Placing his hands on both of Lian's shoulders, he tugs her down, wrestling gently with her sprawling limbs. She screams a laugh, and Roy scrambles to get her up into his arms, unable to escape. 

Only to be bitten. 

Roy yelps, pulling back and away, and Lian runs to hide behind Jason. He looks at his daughter, who pokes her tongue out at him again from where she's leaning around Jason’s bulk.

“I bit just like you said, dad!” Lian cheers. Jason looks infinitely proud, glowing as he ruffles her hair. Roy shoots him a glower, he's all for Lian knowing self defense but some warning would have been appreciated. Jason is unrepentant.

Crouching to her level, Jason holds his hand up for a high five, which she gives easily. “And you kept the element of surprise,” He compliments. “Now, because it is dad, you should apologise.”

“Do I have to? He thought I was a bag.”

“I don't know, you could be one. You're the right size for a backpack, I think,” Jason jokes. Being deadpanned by a child is a rare occurrence, but it does bring Roy infinite joy to see. Even Jason, the subject of the look, appears to be struggling to show he is taking her seriously. 

“Sorry, Dad,” Lian says, Roy waves her off, flashing the wound which is red and irritated against his skin. She sees it, and immediately looks much more concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Lian. It was a good move,” Roy responds, rolling to his feet and standing in a smooth motion. Lighting up, Lian nods, and begins talking about all the stuff Jason has apparently taught her. At some point. Probably when Roy has been out on the rare job that coincides with when Lian is actually home instead of at school.

“I'm sorry I hurt you,” Lian repeats, although it seems to be a lot less begrudging this time around. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Sometimes we accidentally hurt each other, it just matters that you apologize, and try not to do it again. We're family, we're stuck with each other no matter what,” Roy says. Lian nods, serious in a light sort of way, before gasping as she zips away, saying something about her bags. 

Roy looks up, meeting Jason's gaze. The man is not fully here, lost in his own head, vision fixed on an invisible point in the middle distance. Blank, in a way that makes Roy wonder how often he had to keep his emotions and thoughts to himself for survival. The first few times he had been witness to this, Roy had tried to ground Jason back and recieved More than a few punches by accidentally shocking him. 

As time went by, Roy learned to make his approach obvious both visually and audibly, while Jason slowly learned he could trust Roy not to take advantage of him in any way. A long winding road that looped and folded back in on itself, but at the end of the day still travelled further. The person he was traveling with made the journey all the more worth it.

Clearing his throat and leaning more of his weight into each step, Roy approaches, reaching a hand up in an exaggerated motion. When he does place it on Jason’s shoulder, he watches the green glint of his eyes, just a little too bright to be natural, focus on his own human brown ones. Drawing in a deep breath, Jason gives a small, crooked half-smile, and mutters, “Sorry. Just… Lian is gonna have such a different view of family as she grows up. Which is good, don’t get me wrong, but it’s…”

“Bittersweet?” Roy tries, when Jason trails off and doesn't pick the sentence back up. It makes sense. It's something Roy had to grapple with himself. He was determined to break the generational shit he had with Ollie, to give his daughter the childhood he wished he had looking back, but it's a process. One that Dinah’s friend helped him navigate in the early days. 

For as much as Ollie and his relationship has improved, there is still years of history. Ollie has done a lot for him that Roy will be grateful for, but he also handled some things absolutely abysmally. To start, he will not be letting his daughter anywhere near being a vigilante for as long as he can, at least until she is 18, and she will be given extensive training before she even considers donning a mask. He’s got many favours in many places, and a support system of heroes who would be happy to offer additional mentoring. His youth as a vigilante is filled with many memories he’ll treasure forever, but it has just as many dark moments. 

There's other things, smaller things that took longer to understand and decide on, but that was one he knew right out the gate. Honestly, if she doesn't want to go into the business Roy would probably throw a party, but if she does she will have to wait. No field work before she’s eighteen, that's for certain.

Roy is determined to be the father he never got. Determined to not let Lian have the broken little girl within her like he does. The little boy with a bow and a feathered hat, walking with a pep in his step he’ll never get back. 

Jason clearly has this same desire, in his own way. But having it and realising you do are two different things. 

“Yeah. Yeah,” Jason repeats the second word softer. Roy leans up, stealing a kiss from his partner's lips. A simple, warm one, sweet and gentle. Scarred palm cupping his face, Roy leans into Jason further, soaking up the moment. 

Then Lian hurries back in, and they break away. She carries some of her arts supplies, asking where the table cloth to protect the coffee table is.

Returning her enthusiasm, Roy tells her they'll search for one, and when he glances back he finds a soft gaze full with love. 

Once Lian is tucked in that night, Roy closes her door gently behind her and walks into Jason staring at his helmet. 

Roy waits.

“I'm not sure if I should, tonight,” Jason murmurs, head down and watching his own thumbs as they brush against the face of the mask. He's perched on the edge of the bed. “It feels like I'm openin’ a can of worms.”

“What do you mean?” Roy asks. 

Sighing, Jason drops the mask into one hand, fingertips curling around the edge of the helmet as he hangs it off his knee. With the other hand, he brushes it through his hair, pulling back the white patch of hair and letting it bounce back down. “Like… If I start patrollin’ again, I’ll…” He waves a vague hand, and Roy purses his lips. Oh.

“There was more to all that than just patrolling,” Roy reminds him. Jason nods in a knowing way, and Roy wanders over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. “It was the environment as a whole, physically, mentally, socially. Just cause you're back here doesn't mean all your progress will be undone.” 

“I'm scared,” Jason whispers. It's a fragile admission that nestles itself against their touching shoulders. “I can’t— I can’t be like that. Lian deserves better. You deserve better.”

“You deserve better than that too, Jaybird,” Roy adds, and Jason’s shoulder shake around a silent cry.

“If I slide back—”

“Which we will make sure you won't.”

“I might. I don’t always like who I am around my family. I know that now. Can see it,” Jason mutters. He doesn't look Roy in the eyes. Out of internalized shame, or fear, or vulnerability, or because otherwise he'd lose his nerve. Probably a mix of all of them. “I was so fuckin' obsessed with bein’ right. With B seein’ me and tellin’ me I was right.” A tear slips down his cheek, bubbling under his chin and splashing onto the red mask. 

Roy flops back, onto the bed. It's an old tradition. Jason had a thing, about eye contact. Saw it as a threat. It made him feel cornered, kept him defensive, like a beaten dog the doesn't understand a loving hand isn't the same as one curled into a fist. It began on Kori's ship, which came with a projector that shone Tamaranian stars. Kori would go when she felt homesick, Roy always joining her so she would feel less alone, and eventually they lured Jason in through subtle nudging. Kori would tell them stories of home, legends and myths or simple childhood memories. She spoke with such care of the treasured reminders of life before enslavement. 

Roy had shared stories of life at the reservation, or memories of times at the Titans, with Kori chiming in with her own comments. Sometimes, he'd bring a piece from the childhood with Ollie. The good parts.

Those conversations had a raw undertone. Because it was the past, a piece of themselves they carried but could never quite touch. Ghosts that haunted them but were nothing more than wisps of air under their hands. As they grew closer, Roy and Kori rebuilding the friendship that had been a casualty in the dissolving of the Titans back then, while Jason found new deeper connections with people who only vaguely knew him from before, the conversations themselves became raw. Aching. Debriding the damaged and hardened skin they had been forced to grow in order to allow for something else to fill in the space.

It was easier, to tell the stars and be reminded that they didn't judge each other. That they saw each other as who they were now, not who they once were.

Jason joins Roy in lying down. 

“I think it was more than you wanting to be right,” Roy says, mild. “But regardless, it's because of who you were then. Your priorities were different.” Jason was alone with only people who wanted him to be so desperately like the boy who died brutally and prematurely. “Time helps. And you've got Lian, a reminder of what you have to lose. And you have me, someone to tell you when you're in too deep.

“You're gonna do shit you regret. You'll probably even hurt them. When you love someone you know exactly where to strike to hurt them the worst. That goes both ways. But if there's one thing about you fucking Bats it's that you're stubborn.”

“You're pretty stubborn too. I was such an ass to you at first,” Jason laughs. Roy laughs too.

“I'm a mechanic. I know when something is a fixer-upper.” This draws a snort from the man next to him. 

“I'm not gonna patrol tonight. Tomorrow, I will, but tonight…” Jason turns his head, and when Roy does the same to meet his gaze, he finds him smirking.

Surging forward, he catches Jason's lips in a kiss. Full with love and hope and reckless abandon powered by knowing someone so deeply and truly. 

Chapter Text

The knock on the door happens as Roy is making a late breakfast. 

Gentle quiet has blanketed the apartment, warm with the deep breaths of sleep and thick enough to make for a slow morning. Lian sits on the sofa, spouting an impressive bed-head and only half-watching the TV show in front of her. 

Eggs crackle in oil, spitting on the stovetop as Roy takes out the tater tots from the oven. He almost drops the tray, and as he hisses a curse it is drowned out by three precise knocks on the entrance to their apartment. Roy glances at his daughter, out of habit more than anything, and she blinks sleepily at him from where she’s twisted around. Vision going to the digital clock on the oven next, it blinks back 10:23, he turns off the elements and wipes his hands on a pair of paper towels. 

Swallowing his nerves, they’ve been in Gotham for less than 24 hours, he’s not about to get robbed at gunpoint or anything in an apartment, Roy approaches the door how one might approach a live bomb. 

Peeking through the peephole, Roy sees an older man, whitened hair that is immaculately kept and dressed in a well-tailored suit. The face is familiar, and it takes Roy a few moments to dredge up the memory of the man from his Speedy days, during one of the few times he’d been with Dick at the manor. 

Alfred Pennyworth. Here. Roy hurries to undo the locks on the door.

“Alfred?” Roy asks, and the butler seems a little surprised before his face settles in a small but warm smile. 

“Young Harper,” He greets, reaching out a hand to shake. “It’s good to see you. Is Master Jason still here?”

Roy blinks. Then jolts. “Yes! Yeah, he is. He’s still asleep. Come in! Come in,” Roy beckons, trying to gather his wits again. For as much as he was worried about meeting Bruce Wayne — not Bruc ie Wayne — as Jason’s partner, he was about five times more anxious about meeting Alfred again. The man is terrifying and so very British. 

Stepping back, he allows space for Alfred to wander in. The man does, immediately drawing the attention of Lian. Roy closes the door behind them, and hears her ask a curious, “Dad?”

“There’s someone for you to meet,” Roy says, and Lian scrambles off the seat in order to walk closer. Alfred doesn’t outwardly react, other than giving the small girl a warm smile as she stops next to Roy. Not quite hiding behind him, but prepared to do so as she waits for an explanation. Such a simple, childhood act of trust, trusting Roy to protect her no matter what, and it gives an extra warmth to Roy’s chest. 

Placing a hand on her head, he gestures to her for Alfred, saying, “Alfred, this is Lian, our daughter. Lian, this is your great grandfather, Alfred.” For a moment, neither react, and Roy fears he’s said something wrong. Jason always referred to Alfred as his grandfather, but was that some weird unspoken Bat-thing around the man himself? Is it some British insult to acknowledge him as a great grandfather? Fuck, why is he meeting the man again without Jason. Traitor, still sleeping soundly in his damn bed. 

Then Alfred glances up from Lian to Roy, before looking back down and smiling far wider than Roy had ever seen him do. “Hello, Miss Lian,” He greets. The name draws a gasp from Lian, and when Roy checks what kind of gasp it is, he sees Lian’s eyes wide as saucers. 

“Grandestfather,” She murmurs. Alfred’s moustache twitches. “Hi! You’re the first one of Dad’s family I’ve seen. You look so fancy.”

Alfred chuckles, and even with the careful politeness the man wears like kevlar armour, Roy can see him fall hook, line, and sinker for his daughter’s charms. “Thank you,” he responds easily, and Lian takes that as an invitation to launch into her talking about some of her recent drawings. Roy checks with a silent expression that Alfred is alright, but the man is clearly in his element, and so he wanders back over to the kitchen to continue finishing breakfast.

It’s as he’s slicing some cucumber sticks, Alfred having already politely declined any food (Which Roy was expecting, given the fact that the man apparently only eats with the family on Christmas), that Alfred appears on the other side of the counter, engaging him in conversation by asking about his most recent mechanical project.

Roy feels flustered, unsure if he should tell the truth that he is trying to improve Bat-tech or talk about his last completed work, but Alfred only gives him a stern look with a twinkle in his eye. 

He starts talking about the rebreathers.

Alfred expertly multi-tasks the two conversations, engaging with both in a way that speaks to decades of such experience. Roy wonders if it's the socialites, or the Wayne family’s chaos, or a mix of both. When Lian is given her breakfast, she is quiet while eating, and Alfred expertly navigates the questions to become far more personal than Roy ever wanted to be as a first(ish) introduction. 

Two can play at that game. 

Prodding, Roy asks about Jason’s family. Who’s at the manor right now, when will everyone be there to stay for Christmas, keeping the questions surface level. Using a combination of skills he picked up from Dick when he had the brief stint leading the Titans, methods he developed with getting Jason to drop a bit of the Bat-paranoia at the beginning, and Lian’s indirect helping by asking questions she views very important in getting to know the man, Roy manages to get some deeper information about Alfred.

Favourite tea blend, chosen book genre, facts that likely don’t mean much in the grand scheme of things but Roy knows Bats. For as much as Alfred is a behind the scenes help, running comms and being a medic, he is still a Bat. Working with the first Robin, in the beginning when he thought he had to follow every method of Bruce, including keeping his teammates at an arm's length, and navigating the minefield that had been Jason in the early days of the Outlaws made Roy realise just how fiercely they protect personal information. 

Add in Alfred’s Britishness and etiquette, and Roy feels rather accomplished with what he’s gleaned. 

It’s a little before 12 when Jason finally emerges, with some pants thank god, shirtless and still half asleep. He becomes considerably more alert when he register’s Alfred there, and he blinks in a daze for a few moments.

“That snitch,” Jason scowls, Alfred and Lian turning to the doorway at the noise. “I thought I could trust Barbie.” 

“You can, Master Jason, I assure you,” Alfred responds. “I have my own ways for finding out you’re in Gotham.” He turns back to Roy, his eyes glowing. “Master Roy and I have been having a wonderful conversation.”

Jason frowns, glancing at Roy, who waves off the mild concern. Shaking his head, Jason disappears for a moment, returning with Dick’s old jumper on and walking around to rummage up some coffee. He presses a quick kiss to Roy’s cheek, where the man is leaning against the counter with his own coffee on the counter between his hands. Alfred takes a sip from his tea, Jason’s blend because Roy has never really been one for it and Jason likely got his tastes from the butler.

“I hope you haven’t told him your social security number yet,” Jason tells him, and Roy snorts. 

“Alfred’s good, but not that good,” He assures him. “Give him another hour, and he’d pry it out.”

“You’re not too shabby yourself, Master Roy,” Alfred tells him. Roy is entirely unsurprised the man knew he was fishing, and had tossed him a few bones. “Your tactics would work very well on someone with less experience than me.”

“I know, how do you think I got this one to come around?” Roy responds lightly, pointing to his husband who shoots him a good natured glare from the coffee pot. 

Lian pipes up with a good morning for Jason, realising her father is awake enough to acknowledge it properly, and Jason returns it as he pours a cup of coffee into a mug. Alfred watches the two with a fond look, several of his micro-expressions are rippled through Dick and Jason, as he takes another drink from his tea.

“There is one matter I wish to discuss,” Alfred starts. Roy feels a vague sense of doom. “It is the question of why you, Master Jason, thought it acceptable to have your first marriage without allowing me to see the first of you to successfully walk down the aisle.”

Oh thank god, Roy is safe. He finishes his coffee and slips away to his room in order to change into something more presentable for his day. Jason looks at him with something between betrayal and pleading, as he begins trying to get out a response that he’ll stick with. “Alfie— I— So the thing is—”

Alfred all but shoves them out of the apartment after lunch, declaring that he’ll watch Lian while they go and explore. Roy is nervous about leaving Lian anywhere outside of their sight in Gotham, but then he remembers that Jason learnt far more about gun safety from Alfred than anyone else. It makes it easier to walk out.

“What do you say about accompanyin’ me to my old haunts?” Jason asks. Roy gasps, slapping his shoulder in his excitement.

“Learning more about baby Jay? It isn’t even a question,” Roy answers, feeling a buzz build in his chest. Jason has always played close to the chest when it came to his childhood, a variety of factors contributing to it, and Roy never pushed. He wants Jason to trust him, to choose to tell him, because far too many of his choices have already been taken from him, his autonomy violated horribly. But Roy is delighted whenever Jason does give him pieces of his past, and allows him to see just a few more squares in the patchwork that he is comprised of.

Laughing, Jason sets off, and Roy hurries to follow. He slips his hand into the crook of Jason’s elbow, clutching the lifeline like a map in a forest. None of his partner’s ease of navigation, taking corners with the same confidence in person as he did behind the wheel, is in Roy. 

New Yorkers are pushy. Loud, everyone constantly moving in a flurry of activity as if they are ants when their hill has been pushed over, and constantly shoulder-checking anyone in their way. Gothamites are the opposite, but it does not make any of the foot-traffic less abrasive.

It’s harder, because contact in this city can mean hurt as much as it can mean love. Everyone travels with a careful distance from those around them, but somehow still coordinated enough to be able to move, unlike Roy who has to start and stop in order to keep pace with Jay and avoid accidentally drawing attention to himself. 

When Jason pulls them into a garage, Roy breathes a sigh of relief. He knows garages, knows the cars that are hoisted in the air and the clanging of metal on metal as gears are manoeuvred. 

The bell above the door is incredibly loud, and several eyes snap their way to appraise them. They pass over Roy, with his lithe muscles built for sniping rather than brawling, and settle on Jason’s much more intimidating figure. Sizing up, as if they’re going to drag him around the back and kick the shit out of him for daring to even walk in here. 

“You fucker!” Someone shouts. Roy immediately pulls out one of Jason’s guns in a holster on the man’s side, taking the safety off and pointing it directly at the man who captured his attention. 

A wiry man, built like a beanpole but carrying himself with the weight of someone armed and stronger than he looks, holds his palms up in surrender at the muzzle of a gun pointed at his face. Shock paints his features, a tint of fear, but then he laughs and waves down all the men around them who have similarly reached for weapons. “It’s okay!” He calls.

“Roy,” Jason mutters, reaching over and nudging the gun down. Roy inhales, a jerked but deep thing, and lets the weapon point to the floor. “Thanks, babe,” Jason adds, stealing a kiss as a distraction as he takes the gun off Roy. It returns to its holster. “Mouse. You know better than to sneak up on someone like that,” Jay throws at the man, tone growling but a smile dances at the corner of his eyes. 

“Sorry, Streaks,” The man replies, any sign he was shaken gone. “Wasn’t expectin’ your lonely ass to have company.”

“Roy, Mouse,” Jason says, gesturing to the man who grins a little feral. “Mouse, this is my partner, Roy.”

“You’re getting dick?” Mouse asks, incredulous. Roy rolls his eyes, while Jason blushes up his neck. “Fuck. Never thought I’d see the day. He’s damn fast, too.”

“Thanks,” Roy responds, an attempt to make nice. “Sorry about…” 

“Nah, Streaks is right. I shouldn’t have snuck up like that. Or said that as my first words to anyone who walks in.” The man claps his hands, glancing between them. “Now! What can I do for you?”

“My bike, Mouse,” Jason deadpans. “You better not have scrapped it.”

“I would never do that to a good source of income,” Mouse refutes, sniffing in disdain. “I kept ‘er in good condition. Fed, watered, and all the rest of it. I’ll go grab it from round back for you.” He wanders away, and Jason rolls his eyes. 

When he catches Roy scrutinising the retreating form, he adds, “Yeah, I don’t trust him either.”

“Do you even know his name?”

“Mouse is what he goes by. No one knows why. He hires ex cons, though, so he’s mostly alright,” Jason explains. “A lot of people do, but he takes on the more violent ones, so long as they agree to not make problems and do good work.” Huh. Interesting. Roy would have expected him to be more of a scammer than someone who understands that people change. “One of the stipulations for Red Hood’s support is that he doesn’t shortchange them.” And there it is.

Mouse returns, revving the engine of an expensive and well-cared for motorcycle. Sleek, shiny, and definitely not road-legal. As he drives it in, some of the workers nearby give appreciative noises. 

“Here you are,” He tells Jason, cutting the engine and handing over the keys. “Are you keeping her, this time?”

“Maybe,” Jason answers, running a hand on one of the handles. “I’ll let you know.” Mouse hands over a pair of helmets, Jason passing one over to Roy and leaving one under his shoulder.

Giving a jaunty salute, Mouse retreats, and Jason slings a leg over to straddle the bike. He nods his head behind him, and Roy buckles on the helmet before climbing on behind the man. “Ready?” Jason asks, and Roy wraps his arms around Jason’s waist, snuggling closer. He hums, the vibration rolling between them, and Jason puts on his helmet.

The engine purrs to life beneath them, and Jason gives Roy exactly one moment to enjoy the way it vibrates with power before he sends them careening out of the garage. 

Travelling by bike in Gotham is somehow much better than by car. Jason is confident, his skills shining as he weaves through traffic and speeds past jams, occasionally taking elaborate turns that bring the ground a hair’s breadth away from their own sides. But everyone has much less concern for a bike than a car here, crashing into a car does a lot more damage than crashing into a bike. 

It’s still exhilarating, and Roy plasters himself to his partner’s back in order to lean into turns with him, the two moving as more of a cohesive unit than two individual people. 

Through districts they glide, across two of the inner Gotham bridges and arriving in the much seedier areas of the city. Roy tries to remember his Gotham boundaries, but he’s pretty hopeless at where they end and begin. He could muddle his way through naming them all, but pointing to them on a map? Yeah right.

Slowing considerably, Jason takes the remaining streets at a much more leisurely pace. Eventually, he pulls up behind an apartment building, cutting the engine and taking off his helmet with a shake of his hair.

Roy follows along, but when Jason hops off he pauses. 

“It won’t get nicked,” Jason tells him, confident. “Got so many ways to stop it that even a Bat would struggle.”

Reluctantly, Roy hops off with him. Jason chains their helmets to the vehicle, and takes a deep breath. He grins, excited, and nudges Roy around and down the alleyway towards the street. When he apparently walks too slow, Jason slips in front of him, and tugs him along. Chuckling, he lets himself be pulled along.

They stop outside a smaller red brick building, a cheery sign spelling cafe in faded, curled writing. There are a few people inside, two behind the counter, and Roy it’s nice to know that even in one of the most dangerous places in the world, a business like this can survive. 

Jason opens the door for him like a gentleman, and Roy snorts, shoving him in the face on his way past. His husband is anything but.

“Welcome to— kiddo!” The woman behind the counter chirps. She’s on the older side, probably somewhere between Bruce and Alfred, and has a curly bob of brown hair, streaked with grey. “I was wonderin’ when you’d show your face again.”

“Hello, Sandy,” Jason grins, accepting the hug the woman sweeps him up in. It’s a little awkward, Roy would guess the woman has been doing it since Jason was much younger and smaller, but oozes love into the surrounding area. “How have ya been?”

Sandy places him down, sweeping her arms as she speaks. “I’ve been quite fine, dear. Better now that you have taken the time to visit this old lady.” She pokes him at that, which Jason flinches away from as she strikes the space between his ribs. “You really must come more. I fear I’m not much longer for this earth.”

“You’ve been sayin’ that for years. You’ll outlive me,” Jason says, and she tuts. 

“I definitely will if you keep smokin’, young man. Honestly. I’ve known you since you were two, and you—”

“Okay! Sandy, this Roy, my husband. Roy, this is—”

“Sandy Jones, nice to meet you,” Sandy interrupts, putting out a hand to shake. Roy does so, and she continues. “Any family of Jason’s is family of mine. Now he better be takin’ good care of you, he’s nothin’ but trouble. If he needs to be put in his place, you just let me know.” She winks at him, and Roy laughs along good-naturedly. 

“You haven’t been able to push me around since I was a ch ild—” Jason yelps the last part as Sandy tugs at his ear, pulling him down so she can properly cuff him behind the head. Cackling, Roy watches as she begins a lecture, with a thoroughly cowed Jason clutching at his ear. “Okay! Okay! Batshit woman,” Jason mutters, and Roy expects this to only embolden her further, but instead the short woman grins. 

“Little shit,” She snorts. “Go and crawl back into the sewer grate you came from,” She dismisses. “Leave your hubby, though, I want to know him.”

“I think I want to know you as well, Sandy Jones. So when you said you’d known him since he was two—”

“I knew him far before any of that rich business. He tried to tell me I was mistaken when he first showed back up. Dumbfuck,” She laughs, coughs, and waves off Jason’s concern. “Ran out of my inhaler ‘s all,” She tells him. “I’m getting another one from Dr Leslie tomorrow.” 

“The idea is that you pick up your next one before you run out,” Jason tells her, exasperated and clearly half-hearted. He is rewarded with a ‘pah’ for his efforts. “Sandy’s one of the few who knows who I am.”

“I envy the others,” She grumbles. Jason kicks at her ankle, and she wheezes dramatically. When Jason only stares, with no other reaction, she drops the act with something bordering on a pout. “You’re no fun.”

“Your idea of fun was scaring the shit out of a starvin’ kid tryin’ to steal a muesli bar,” Jason retorts. Roy frowns, but neither of them seem pissed at the statement. Which. Means it was probably Jason. “I’m just here for the pies your wife makes. Gotta show Roy all the good parts of Gotham while he’s here.”

Sandy hums, “Otherwise he’ll run for the hills.” She wanders back to the counter, and calls to the back, “Junie! Jay’s here!” 

“Jay?!” A female calls back, and then reveals herself through the small curtain that cuts the cafe front from the kitchen behind. She’s got deeper crow’s feet than her partner, blonde hair that’s lightened with whitened age, and wears a smeared apron. Junie, presumably, lights up considerably upon seeing Jason there. “Jay! Hey! I was wondering where you ran off to.”

“Hey, Junie,” Jason greets warmly and much softer than how he did with Sandy. “Junie, this is Roy, my husband.”

“Oh, let me get a look at you,” She tuts, removing the apron and throwing it onto the counter in her haste to get past it. She’s taller than Sandy, and maybe even Roy by a good few inches. As she comes to stand in front of them, she seems to tower over both of them, somehow, but not in an intimidating manner. 

Placing her palms on either side of Jason’s face, she smiles gently and tugs him down slightly to kiss him on the forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You look healthy, thank the stars.” 

“I was always healthy,” Jason refutes, a little bitterly. Placing a finger to his lips, she shakes her head emphatically.

“Physically, yes, but not in your head. Gotham knows how to just take and take. Whatever happened weighed on your soul, and this city didn’t help,” She insists. Junie’s eyes water a little, and she moves her hands to squeeze firmly on Jason’s shoulders. “You needed escape. Love. I’m glad you found it.” She flicks her gaze to Roy, eyes sparking a little too brightly with the fire of knowledge.

It should be unsettling, looking into those eyes that pierce all of his walls and shields. Instead, it’s only a quiet heat of sunshine, illuminating and basking and knowing. Surety, like the sun rising each morning. 

She smiles, her hands twitching like she wants to touch Roy, and he’s grateful she refrains. It would be too much. “I’m glad you have found our Jason, and seen the love he has to give even when he couldn’t himself. I can see he has helped you, too. Good. He always had a soul that called to help others.”

She shoots forward and wraps Roy in a quick, one armed hug, before retreating just as quickly. Roy stumbles, a little dazed, and Jason leans a steadying shoulder for him. At that moment, he’s far too grateful for it. For all the ways they’ve learnt to read each other and support each other. Call and response.

“Right! Now, I hear you want a pie,” She says, grinning. “Two lemon meringues! I’ll bag them for you.”

Gone, in a whiff of cinnamon and sugar, she whisks into the back. Roy doesn’t look at Jason, because he can’t examine anything about this right now, and waits as Jason pays for their pies. 

As she presses them into Roy’s hands, he realises they are fresh. Like, right out the oven fresh. For some reason, he knows it isn’t because she coincidentally had a batch made as they walked in. Nothing about this woman is a coincidence. 

Before Roy steps away to leave, she stops him, tugging him closer to murmur much quieter to him. Jason likely hears it, but it makes what she says more private, oddly enough. 

“You have walked in the dark, made mistakes and been charged the cost of them. This is not a bad thing. You have the light to navigate it, and you are passing the torch to your daughter. She’s lucky to have a father like you. You are not a fraud, Roy Harper. No one will take your daughter from you because of the path you have travelled. You are a good father.” The last five words are said forcefully, with emphasis like one might argue a fact, and then she releases him and smiles. 

“Look after each other. Both of you,” She bids them farewell, echoed begrudgingly by Sandy, and Jason ushers them outside.

When the door closes behind them, Roy mutters a quiet but very genuine, “What the actual fuck.”

Jason winces, taking one of the pies from Roy’s lax grip and rubbing his shoulder. The movement is far more grounding than it should be. “Sorry. She’s a lot, I know, but I wasn’t expecting her to be so… overt.”

“Did she see me?” Roy asks. “Well, yes, she did. Of course she did. She has eyes. But— But those weren’t normal fucking eyes,” He rambles, shaking a little as he runs his now free hand down his face. “What—”

“I think she’s a meta of some kind. I don’t know if she fully realises it herself, but she definitely has some kind of enhanced ability. She can see right through you. It’s spooky as fuck, and I just about shit myself the first time I talked with her properly.” Jason sighs, smiling when Roy glances back at him. “She makes damn good pies, though,” He adds, unbagging his and taking a bite.

Roy tries his own. Sweet and sour, like the joy living gives you and the pain that makes it possible. 

It is a fucking good pie.

The rest of the afternoon is spent by Jason showing Roy around his childhood neighbourhoods, occasionally being recognised as ‘Peter’. Given how Jason Wayne is very publicly dead, an alias makes sense. Although using his middle name leaves something lacking in the creativity department.

Jason defends it by arguing that it has worked, but Roy is 80% sure that more people know him as the kid that had a good heart against all odds and got picked up by Brucie Wayne then he realises.

When they finally wander back to where the bike was supposed parked, their good mood evaporates. 

“Even a Bat would struggle, huh?” Roy remarks, and Jason glares at him. “What?”

“I stand by what I said,” Jason says under his breath, crossing his arms a little sulkily. “Besides, I guarantee I know where it is.”

“Just like how you guaranteed even a Bat couldn’t steal your bike?” Roy’s winning humour is horribly underappreciated by his audience. 

Stepping closer, the taller man crouches on the ground, examining the now empty space. He finds something, based on the triumphant noise he makes, and he grins at Roy, vindication all over his face. “A Bat didn’t steal it.”

“Oh, even better—!”

“A cat did.”

What.

Jason knocks on the apartment door, waiting patiently even when no noise seems to be heard to signal someone approaching to answer it. 

Just as Roy is debating how big of an argument it would be to drag Jason home anyway, there’s the clicking of several locks and the door swings open to reveal the occupant. 

“Kitten,” Greets Selina Kyle, flashing a sharp but fond smile, all canines and love bites. “How wonderful to see you back in Gotham.”

“Hey, Selina. I’d like my bike back, please and thank you,” Jason responds. Roy frowns. Why does Jason seem so familiar with Selina Kyle, who only began dating Brucie Wayne publicly in the past few years, and so convinced the socialite would have stolen his bike? 

“Whatever do you mean, dear?” Selina asks. “I didn’t even know you were back home until you knocked on my door.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you sooner,” Jason begrudges. Roy feels his eyebrows climb higher on his face. Selina remains unsurprised, unimpressed, and unmoved. Sighing, Jason adds, “And for not inviting you to the weddin’.”

“Hm,” Selina sniffs, before letting them into the apartment. Confident, Jason takes the invitation, and Roy only hesitates for a beat before following him. “You’re Queen’s first stray,” Selina says to his back, and Roy bristles despite himself.

“I’m Roy Harper, ma’am,” Roy greets her pointedly. 

“Sorry, dear, didn’t mean it as an insult,” Selina apologises breezily. “Just an observation. I remember you from the tabloids.” Roy scowls. He knows his addiction and disownment made the rounds in the upper crust, remembers the media frenzy when he showed back up clean, sober, and with a daughter who had no mother in sight. Ollie taking him back in was just as public. 

Next to him, Jason puffs up, indignant, but Roy beats him to it. “My apologies, Ms Kyle, for being surprised someone of your caliber engages with such content,” He tells her, grinning. It isn’t the pasty smile he reserves for the few social events he can’t worm his way out of, mild and bubbling with champagne and false pleasantries. This is all the jagged glass of broken bottles and sharp points of needles. The precision of a well trained sniper and the danger of a vigilante who has learned and bled and been a leader. 

It is the smile of a man who has broken apart and put himself back together to be stronger. 

Selina is silent, appraising him and the unspoken insults and warning all entwined behind the curl of the lip. Then, after a few beats, she turns to Jason and nods. “I approve.”

“Oh for fucks— Is everything a hazing with you lot?” Roy demands, throwing his hands in the air. Selina smirks, all feline and unrepentant smugness, and he groans. “What is wrong with— Oh hello,” Roy coos the last part, as the small, wide eyes of a cat catches his attention from his periphery. 

The cat wanders closer, and Roy drops into a crouch immediately. It’s a beautiful calico, thick fur hanging from its cheeks and one eyelid shut in a permanent wink. Holding out a limp hand, he lets the cat sniff it, and feels proud when she(?) immediately bunts her head into it.

Rubbing up along his forearm, she wanders close enough to put her paws on his knees, sniffing his face with a confidence Roy wasn’t expecting, but isn’t complaining about. 

Mrrp. 

Roy runs a gentle hand down the cat’s spine, and when it leans into the touch he does it again with more vigor. He flicks his gaze up, feeling watched, and sees several more eyes blink back at him.

Oh. Oh.

“You’re Catwoman,” Roy realises, glancing back up at Selina. She blinks, innocent, as if waiting for him to take it back. When Roy doesn’t, a smile returns to her face.

“I like you,” She declares. Roy feels like he’s passed some sort of test.

“There are more normal ways to ask to see me, y’know,” Jason pipes in, and Selina turns to him to respond. Roy doesn’t really bother listening, because another cat, far more nervous than the first, is approaching him. He rolls back onto his haunches, sitting on the floor, and allowing the other cat to approach. An orange tabby, which Roy is pretty sure he remembers reading about the gene for that colour being connected to the gene for being male, so he assumes it’s a boy.

The ginger sniffs him, and then climbs into his lap like he belongs there. Roy thinks he might perish. 

Giving the boy good chin scratches, feeling the rumble of the throaty purr, he looks back to Selina and Jason, who are bickering about the elopement. 

“I’m teasing, kitten,” Selina reminds Jason, who rolls his eyes but was never truly angry enough to believe she wasn’t. “Maybe I would be more gracious if you visited me more often.”

Something solid, small, and warm settles against Roy’s thigh. “Oh we definitely will be. Lian is going to adore you,” Roy jumps in, drawing their attention. Jason snickers, pulling out his phone swiftly to take a photo. Glancing back down, he sees he’s been surrounded by cats, several nuzzled up against him with a few others sitting further away, watching and assessing him.

“Yes. My granddaughter,” Selina points the last word to Jason.

Roy gasps in exaggerated disgust, and Jason whirls back to him, shocked at the betrayal.

“Right. We are leaving,” Jason decides. “Where is my bike?”

“Where is my gift?” Selina asks. Jason tries to pretend he doesn’t know what she is talking about for exactly three seconds before he deflates and runs a hand through his hair. 

“With the rest of the Christmas gifts. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“You are?” Selina echoes. Jason nods. “Still? Good. I’m glad. You never were one to back out. I’ll wait for it, then. Your bike is three streets away, west.”

“Where we first met? You’re getting soft,” Jason teases. Selina flicks him on the forehead. 

“I’m getting you coal,” She deadpans. 

Darting away, Jason laughs. “Jokes on you, Roy would actually enjoy that,” He retorts. Huffing a laugh, Roy prepares to betray each of the small creatures around him by picking them off him and leaving them. Obviously, this shows on his face, because Selina laughs and takes pity on him.

“It’s almost their feeding time, anyway,” She admits, pulling out her phone and pressing a few things on the screen. After a beat, there’s a faint rattle, and suddenly there is no sign of any of the previous occupants of Roy’s space outside of the fur all down his pants. 

Picking himself up, he bids farewell to Selina with Jason, and the couple walks into the early evening outside. 

Setting off to find the stashed bike.

Chapter Text

Roy lounges on the sofa, tinkering with a tester mechanism for the rebreather and watching the laptop in front of him. There’s a variety of pop-ups on the screen, from vital monitoring to a camera feed of zooming streets and a revving engine. 

Last night had been rather monotonous, Roy watching from Jason’s point of view as he made his presence known to Gotham and surprised many criminals who definitely were not expecting the now mainly New York-based Red Hood to thwart them. It’d been a lot of banter, and reconnecting with people who knew Hood and welcomed him back warmly. 

Paloma even appeared, being dragged by her mother who gave Jason a frankly insanely good chicken curry and sang his praises in Spanish and broken English. It had taken Roy a lot of convincing and only half-exaggerated noises of appreciation to break Jason and get the man to leave some of his paranoia behind in order to eat some himself. Worth it, though, because anyone would be stupid to not recognise that the recipe was clearly a family one, and Jason had actually gotten a little choked up at that fact.

Tonight would likely be more eventful, as word had spread about Red Hood’s reappearance in his birth-city. Giving all the worms the chance to crawl out onto the pavement. 

Already, Jason had split up a few fights and dealt a few reminders about how much he cares about the no-kids rule. It wasn’t even midnight yet. “I think you’re going to be worked, tonight,” Roy says, Jason grunting through the comm-link. “Any idea if we’ll have any shadows around?”

“Don’t even speak of them, you’ll summon them,” Jason mutters, and Roy chuckles as he tries to wriggle his tool into the cramped space of the Bat rebreather. Thank god for Bat paranoia, because he really doesn’t want to have to be worried about returning this to a salvageable state, and Jason has plenty on hand. He presses on one of the shifting levers, the ones that mould to the face to provide a better suction and keep unfiltered air from entering the space, and feels how much resistance it gives.

Turning to his own mock-up, he tries to locate the same lever, but only has a moment to think oh shit as he feels the shift of a click. Hissing, the practice smoke he’d loaded to simulate the potential aerosolized generic fear gas antidote billows into the room, and Roy stumbles over to open the windows with an elbow over his mouth.

Coughing, he hears the concerned “Arsenal?” in his ear as he sticks his head out to steal a few lungfuls of fresh air. 

Waiting until he’s recovered his breath, he leaves the window open and returns to his spot on the sofa, waving his hands in an attempt to dispel some of the clouds. “I’m okay, Red, just fucked up my own work.”

Jason breathes a sigh of relief, and then snorts to cover it up. “I love you, but when are you going to drop the impossible project?”

“Some would say having a stable relationship with a Bat is impossible, and yet here we are,” Roy sniffs, practically hearing Jason’s silent eye-roll. “Besides you—”

“Quiet,” Jason interrupts. Any other time, Roy would simply continue and talk much louder out of spite, but it could be Jason hearing a distant scream for help. For a few beats, there’s nothing, and Roy scrutinises the darkened camera feed as Jason stares intently across the rooftops. 

“‘Sup, edgelord,” Chirps a cheery voice. Jason’s gaze snaps to his left, and lands on a waving hooded figure. Blond hair falls in a slight wave against the purple suit, hood and lower half-mask leaving only crinkled blue eyes visible on her face. “Long time no see.”

“Spoiler,” Jason growls. But he doesn’t immediately reach for a gun or start spouting threats so Roy would say they’ve made great progress on that front. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He mutters, and Stephanie only bounces on the balls of her feet, bounding closer in order to sock him in the shoulder.

Jason side-steps the attempt lazily, and she widens her eyes in an exaggerated pout. “You ignore my texts.”

“You spam me with memes,” Jason refutes. Steph waves her hand. “I have better things to do than respond to all two-hundred.”

“Come onnnnn. Us dead Robins gotta stick together!” Steph insists, gesturing between them. Unimpressed, Jason simply remains silent. “Or us crime Robins. Y’know, not from the circus or a rich family or a cultist rich family.” This seems a little more favourable to Jason, and Steph picks up on this. “Did you see Junie and Sandy? They asked after you last time I was there. There wasn’t really much I could say, what with you ignoring me, but the bits I did give them seemed to be enough in the short term. When they find out you came back but didn’t go see them, they’ll be really pissed off and when that happens Junie gets a lot more freaky.”

“You still go there?” Jason asks, surprise colouring his tone. “Figured they scared you off when I brought you.”

“Guessing I was Spoiler right off the bat wasn’t the best thing to be an introduction,” Steph says, and Roy agrees whole-heartedly with this concept. “Knowing exactly what was bothering me was nice, once I got over the whole creepy see-straight-through-me thing.”

Snorting, the man in front of her elbows her, ignoring the squawk such an action receives and rebutting with, “Try being recently undead and still legally dead, and her sobbin’ when she sees you. Good fuck that scared the daylights outta me.” Jason had explained the rest of how Junie knew who he was immediately to Roy when he asked. Junie had been so heartbroken, muttering about green poison and pain and burning warehouses, and repeating his name with a desperation that even remembering brought a haunted look to the man’s eyes. Roy could only imagine how Jason, at his lowest in believing no one mourned him, would react to that.

Damn. And Jason still didn’t think to give Roy a warning beforehand?

“Anyway, please let me know when you do go back, because I’d like to watch your second death,” Stephanie says cheerfully. It’s at this point that they’re joined by another figure, the black suit making Jason lean back a little before the blue accents are clear in view. 

Dick wanders over, leaning on Stephanie. “Why is Hood dying again?” He asks.

“I’m not dyin’, because I was smart enough to stop by when I first arrived,” Jason refutes. “I ain't diggin’ myself out a second time.” Dick makes a wounded noise at this, and Jason shoves his shoulder. “Relax, Dickhead.”

Jason seems to pause, after saying that, as if he's seen something. Or realised something. Roy frowns, trying to see if something caught his eye through the feed, but comes up blank.

“That fucker,” Jason hisses, snarls, and Roy blinks at the sudden vitriol. “He sent you two to watch me?” Oh. Batman, control freak, Jason being active as Red Hood. Of course, the man couldn't leave well enough alone. Roy supposes it's only mildly better than if he himself had shown up in front of Jason. 

Throwing her hands up, Stephanie steps away from Dick, declaring, “I'm not a part of that! I just wanted to see you again.”

The camera pans to Dick, who grins sheepishly. “He was gonna put Tim on it, but I shot that down.”

“There had better be a rogue out,” Jason growls. Jason has mentioned that Bruce always gets weird when an Arkham breakout occurs. He doesn't like Jason being there. The man thinks it's because of a trust thing, that he thinks he's going to fly off the handle and kill any Rogue that gets in his way, which Roy isn't denying. He just thinks it's a little more multifaceted than that. Losing his son to a Rogue, it leaves scars. Didn't make waking up to Batman looming over him in his apartment any less scary, even when Jason chased the man out and explained he feels the need to check on Jason’s whereabouts, which Jason explained as his father being worried about whether he was somehow involved. Regardless of the fact Jason wasn't even in the city at the time. 

Thank god they'd been clothed. 

In the camera, both Spoiler and Nightwing remain quiet, shifting nervously on their feet. “Well, Nygma is still out, but he hasn't shown himself for weeks and is unlikely to tonight—”

“Riddler? No, that's grasping for straws and you know it,” Jason interrupts Dick's nervous explanation. “So, are you here to threaten me back home? Sedate me if I don't agree?”

“Well, in theory,” Spoiler answers for her brother, a little shy. But then she brightens with a scheming glint to her eye, the same one Jason gets, and claps her hands together. “Instead, we're just going to tag along.”

Both Roy and Jason are suspicious, it's never that easy with Bats, but Dick nods along enthusiastically. Reluctantly, Jason accepts the proposal — it’s likely the best he’s going to get — and both the vigilantes pump their fists in victory. “At least we'll be entertained,” Roy tells Jason, who gives no outward reaction other than a light snort.

“What's on the schedule tonight, Little Wing?” Dick asks, slinging another arm around Jason's shoulders and pulling them all in close. 

“Done most of the shit I needed to. Still gotta talk to the girls.” Jason sighs. “See If they have anythin’ they need.”

“Okay! I've been needing to ask them for some tips. Their make-up is always impeccable,” Stephanie tells them, grinning. “Been struggling with— Wha—?! Hey!” 

Careening forward, Nightwing disappears without any warning, leaving a spluttering Spoiler behind him as he cackles. She growls, wordless, and stamps her foot. Roy's a little confused, the scuffle happened outside of his vision, but Jason looks at the Gotham sky and sighs.

There's silence, a beat of hesitation, and Jason glances over at Spoiler who is already staring intently at him. “No,” He says. Stephanie deflates.

“But—”

“I'm not playin’ tag with you lot. it would be a waste to even try to get me.” Jason makes the mistake of phrasing it like a challenge, which with all Bats makes them about five times more likely to do something, and she tilts her head, considering him. “Dick’s long gone. Good luck gettin’ him now.”

“Fuck!” Stephanie shouts, and she disappears over the side of the building, purple cape flaring out in the breeze. Clearly, she takes tagging Dick as the bigger challenge between the two brothers. 

“I'm going to end up shootin’ someone,” Jason sighs. “Mark my words.”

“That's fine, you've got rubber bullets,” Roy hums. Jason sighs, before taking a running leap to chase after his siblings.

“Jinx said it was happenin’ in a warehouse around here,” Jason mutters. Roy watches as the camera pans down with his husband’s vision, showing Spoiler sitting on the edge of the ledge, legs kicking out beneath her. She’d been chattering with the working girls about keeping make-up on while exercising when Jason had moved them all onto chasing the lead on a drug shipment. She’d been far less put out than Dick, who had been making nice with one of the younger girls, offering reassurance and a quick self-defence crash-course. 

Old Gotham maps stare at Roy as he brings them up, moreso tracking their movements than guiding them. The city's a mess of old architecture, dilapidated buildings, and gentrified neighbourhoods. Babs is busy helping Batman and the rest of the family, they’re hoping to get Nygma back in custody in time for Christmas, leaving the trio on their own. Or, with Roy too, but Dick and Stephanie aren't aware of that fact. 

“We’re getting a little close to some potential Riddler movement,” Dick warns. More as a warning about the presence of Batman than the Rogue himself. He has one of the lowest body counts of the ‘gallery’, but sometimes can be so obsessed with the game that he forgets about the dangers his traps can pose. 

“Let's make it quick, then,” Stephanie says. “Soul read time!” She stands up, backing away from the ledge and pointing a finger out in front of her. She hums a low, droning note, closing her eyes and spinning in a circle for a few rotations. Increasing in pitch, her humming reaches its climax and she stops, opening her eyes to an old docking warehouse, roof patchy in places but overall in good shape. “This one has bad vibes.”

Jason glances over at Dick. Dick nods. Jason does too. “Alright. Let's see if your gut’s right,” Jason tells her, before leaping off the building in order to approach the one they picked out. 

A few nauseating jumps later — most of these buildings cannot be up to code — Jay lands on the roof, using the magical Bat-stealth in order to keep his weight from making a noise. Hunching closer, Roy squints into the dark display in case anything is lingering in the shadows. Crawling over to a hole the size of a panel, Jason carefully peaks his head over the jagged edge, looking down below.

A shipping truck is parked below, back open and several bags being moved into a plain car with no licence plate. Both the man in person and the one behind the screen assess the situation quickly, and Roy murmurs in his ear, “Clear shot of the front tyre right, shoot that first.” Slight shift in the angling of the camera, a nod. 

Dick and Stephanie catch up, and once they have had a moment to pick their targets, Jason pulls out one of his guns from his hip holster, readying it and aiming for the tyre. 

Shooting, he hits the inflated tyre, the bang of the shot echoing throughout the space. The crooks have a moment to find the source of the noise, look up to the roof, and see three figures above them.

The Bats descend.

It's a rather easy fight, the three taking a moment to slip into a fighting style that allows them to be cohesive, but once they've mastered it they’re damn good. 

Ebbing and flowing like the tides of the sea, Dick and Jason are a cohesive unit. Weaving around each other, with Jason showing far more of his lighter fighting style than he usually does with thugs, they make for a powerful tornado of hits. Steph lingers on the outer edge, until Dick grabs her by the arm and swings her around, planting her feet on the back of his shoulders. This is a move they’re familiar with, as the girl shifts to accommodate easily, pushing off into a soaring leap that lets her land on one of the men, knocking him beneath her. 

One of the men tries to drive off with the truck, but they can’t move beyond a grinding right turn because of the blown tyre. He's just as easily apprehended as everyone else as a result, where Jason drags him out and slams the butt of his gun into the man's temple, Knocking him out cold. 

Slowly, the fight winds down.

As Jason is examining how much cocaine is in the shipment, Dick and Steph, who are both tying up the bodies, go still, listening to something before exchanging a glance. Roy would have to guess it's Barbara. What's a little more alarming is the fact that Jason lifts his head to ask if they're alright and they both drop what they're doing to crowd around him. 

“Hey, we gotta go—” Dick says, and Jason immediately bristles at the urgency in his tone. 

“The fuck?” Jason asks. Stephanie puts a hand on his elbow, trying to tug him towards the hole they came in from. “Spoiler, stop. Dick, what are you hidin’?” Jason demands, anger surging in his confusion. Dick sighs, frustrated, and shoves at Jason's shoulders.

Jason looks at him, awaiting an answer. Opening his mouth to give one, he's instead given a shadow that looms over him in the empty light. 

“Hey, B,” Dick greets nervously. Roy sees Jason's heart rate spike on the little pop-up monitor. Fuck. This isn't good at all. 

“Red Hood. You should have asked Me before making yourself active in my city again,” Bruce, Batman, tells Jason. Jason scoff, rolling eyes eyes and crossing his arms. “You just took down a drug operation that we had been tracking for months.”

“Oh get of your fuckin’ high horse,” Jason snaps. “This ain't your fuckin’ city! It's more my city than yours! And you don't see me running around chasin’ people out!”

Distantly, barely picked up by the microphone, Roy hears Dick quietly mutters, “So much for Jay joining us for Christmas.” Not that Jason has the attention or bandwidth to register it properly in the moment. 

“You endangered many lives. What if you didn't get the head of the operation, and they changed their methods of selling to make them impossible to track,” Bruce continues, his lecture gaining momentum until he's almost shouting. “You could have so easily set us back weeks worth of work.”

“Fuck you, I did it, didn't I?” Jason snarls  growling Deeply. Bruce takes a step forward, invading Jason's space, but neither man backs down. This is getting out of hand, and Roy isn't there to support Jason or diffuse the situation. Shit. “Didn’t even kill anyone!”

“Jay—” Roy tries, but before he can continue Bruce Wayne opens his big fucking mouth.

“Doing the bare minimum should not be applauded,” Batman snaps. “Killing is not the answer, and it makes you no better than them!” Gauntleted hands point to the bodies around them, but Jason rears back at the words. Roy debates if he should suit up and run to Jason’s side. “I refuse to let you run around unchecked!”

“I’m not fuckin’ unchecked,” Jason growls. “I had goldie and blondie with me an’ everythin’. Just admit you can’t see me beyond the murders. The monster that came back instead of your son. Am I no longer your little birdie, B? I’m so fuckin’ sorry you lost someone in that warehouse. I’m so sorry you have to live with that murderer in the same world as you!”

“I was busy apprehending Riddler. If you had gotten in over your head, I wouldn't have been there to clean up your mess,” Batman hisses. Oh, that's good. Glad Bruce got the wayward Rogue. Why couldn't Riddler have taken longer to deal with?

“I never would have asked you to, Batman,” Jason argues. He takes an emboldened step forward, leaning right up to get in Bruce's face. “I haven't expected you to be there to protect me since that bomb hit zero and you were too late to stop it.”

Batman reels. It's such a foreign concept, to see the larger-than-life vigilante actually be rattled by something. As much as a part of Roy wants to cheer his partner on, Jason shouldn't be getting into this tonight. It wouldn't do him any good. 

“Jason, hey,” Roy speaks up again, watching his partner tilt his head a tiny bit in acknowledgement of his voice. “Leaving isn’t losing, remember?” It's a concept Jason struggled with, too used to the idea that leaving a conflict is the same as losing it. Any other time, Jason would have teased him for how corny that was, barely even taking the message seriously. But Roy promised he'd tell Jason when he's going in too deep, slipping away from him, and so he'll be damned if he doesn't pipe in. 

For a moment, no one moves. Bruce is ready for a fight, and Jay tilts himself to see just far enough behind him that Dick and Steph are in his periphery. They’re both ready to jump in, although Dick has an arm out in front of Steph as both a restricting and protecting measure.

And then Jason sighs. Deflates. Mutters a quiet, “Alright.”

“Alright?” All three of the other people in the space echo, shocked and confused. Jason bristles, but Roy hums in his ear, reminding him he has someone in his corner, and he forces himself to withdraw. Even when fighting, his family has the bad habit of expecting one because that was who he used to be. Still is, to some extent, but with more priorities.

Without another word, he turns, and stalks right out the front door Bruce pried open to make his own entrance. None of the other people make a noise, a spell over them. 

Jason swings, silent, above a few rooftops, before he gasps and collapses into a last-minute roll as he collides with a rooftop. Panting, Jason tears off his hood, the camera falling to be on its side as he drops the helmet next to him. “Jason?!” Roy asks, cries, and for a few horrible seconds all he can hear is panicked breathing and stifled sobs.

Then, shakily, Jason mutters, “R-Roy.”

“Jason,” Roy sighs in relief. “I know. I know. Just come home, okay? Come home.” Then he can hug the living daylights out of his partner, cover his face in kisses until his tears stop washing them away, and run his hands through his hair until he falls asleep. “I can come grab you, if you need?” Roy offers, even though he doesn’t want to leave Lian home alone in an unfamiliar, dangerous city.

Hesitation, and then Jason murmurs a quiet, “No.”

“Okay. Take you’re time, Jaybird,” Roy tells him.

Huffing a deeper breath, Jason grabs a deeper breath. “I don’t. We’ve said worse. He’s said worse. I don’t know why I’m…”

“You’re healing, Jay,” Roy tells him gently. “You know it can — should — be better.”

Inhaling another shaky breath, the camera moves as it is picked up, placed on Jason’s head as he puts the helmet back on. He staggers to his feet, and fires his grappling line.

Roy doesn't acknowledge how shaky His breath is or the broken silence that stretches between them. It will be better to let Jason fall apart with him there to catch the pieces in person. 

Wind whistles for the rest of the journey, and Roy shoves the laptop off him in order to pace the living room. Needing something, anything, to do, he opens his phone when it chimes with a buzz in his pocket.

Batgirl:

Thanks for being there for Jay tonight. Are you staying in Gotham for long? I can watch Lian if you want to join him tomorrow.

Barbara knows him too well to know that Roy would have left his daughter with someone else this close to Christmas. He knows her too well to know that of course she would have figured out he’s in Gotham with Jason.

He might take her up on that offer.

Chapter Text

Roy shifts his weight from foot to foot, almost running in place as he tries to work out a few of his nerves. Jason only stares blankly at him, and Roy can feel the good-natured judgement at his flighty habits. “I can see where Elle gets it,” Jason comments, and Roy flips him off with prejudice. 

“Elle also got my charm,” Roy sniffs. Silence. “Wow. Okay. You hate me. You’re homophobic, actually—” Jason presses a palm to Roy’s mouth, which Roy tolerates for all of two seconds before licking the skin. 

“Eugh,” Jason hisses, wiping his palm hurriedly on his armour. “What the hell—” Roy interrupts him this time, stealing a quick kiss. Reciprocating, Jason leans in, following him for a moment when he pulls back. “I feel like I lost a point,” he mutters, and Roy grins sharply up at him.

“Oh my god. You two are dating?” Barbara chimes in Roy’s ear. Her voice is loud, a little breathy with excitement, and Roy frowns, glancing over at Jason. He’s similarly confused, though.

Putting a hand to his earpiece, he responds with, “Yeah? I thought you realised that? Why else am I here for Christmas?”

“Oh my god, you’re the mysterious plus one. Alfred polished an extra two sets of silverware, and no one knew why.”

“Dickhead knew,” Jason grumbles, but Roy can tell by the wrinkle of his nose he’s secretly pleased that Dick didn’t immediately tell the rest of the family. He always gets that twitch when he feels appreciative of any of his family, like he’s realising he actually likes them and that’s disgusting. “What did everyone bet?”

Which, seems to make little sense for Roy, until Barbara laughs and begins listing. “Tim bet that it was for Clark and Diana, a solid one. Steph bet it was that Tim, Kon, and Bart finally sorted themselves out and got official, which is kind of impossible with how much of a disaster they all are. It’d take more than a Christmas miracle for that to happen.” Oh? Tim, Kon, and Bart, huh? That actually makes a lot of sense, when Roy thinks back to some of the interactions he saw when giving pointers to their team. 

“Duke guessed it was for Ivy and Harley, which again, fair given Selina’s coming— Oh that sneaky bastard!” Babs cries, and there's a distant thud. Presumably her hitting her fist on her desk. “Dick guessed it was Jason bringing Roy and Kori. He covered it up!”

Roy cackles, despite himself. That sounds exactly like his Robin, knowing exactly how to get what he wants by giving what others need. “That’s actually pretty smart,” Jason begrudges. 

“Cass bet someone who dropped out this year was actually coming as a surprise, because no one dares to surprise Alfred,” Barbara offers, and Jason nods solemnly. Which, even with Roy’s — he’s been assured it’s only so far, and very likely to change after Christmas — limited interactions with the butler, makes complete sense. “And she hasn’t dropped her guess, which means she hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“Good god am I glad that they only accidentally were betting on my love life and not actually doing so,” Jason grits out. There’s hesitant silence from Barbara, and Jason drags a hand through his hair as he sighs in pure resigned frustration. “Of course they did.”

“Are the bets anonymous?” Roy asks. Jason gawks at him, but Roy only smiles and clicks his tongue, winking even with the limited movement his mask conveys. 

“To all who are not betting, yes. Bets must be disclosed by the one who places them only if they want to do so. We had a… passionate discussion about the silverware.”

“I hate this nightmare of a family,” Jason says into his hands, where he’s hanging his head. “I should’ve just suffocated in the dirt.” 

Patting him sympathetically, Roy says to his communicator, “I want to bet on me.”

Nothing is said for a few beats, and then Barbara bursts into giggles. Smiling, Roy sees Jason huff a breath of laughter and disbelief, lifting his head and looking directly at Roy before throwing his hands up in a silent I give up motion.

“What would you like to bet? Actually, Jason can walk you through this. Just know that we don’t really bet money on account of the whole…”

“Being absolutely loaded?” Roy asks.

“Emotionally stunted billionaire father who expresses love through money?” Jason says at the same time, which draws another giggle from Barbara. 

No money, huh? Roy’s sure he can scrounge something up that is worth something to a clan of rich bats. It will be satisfying to clean them all out of house and home. Odds are he can get Jason to properly approve by pushing it as vengeance, which it kinda is, rather than simply an opportunity to win shit. 

“Looks like everyone is in position. B doesn’t really know you’re taking one of them, by the way, but he’ll get his head out of his ass about it after some unproductive yelling. This does mean that he’s sent someone else here.”

“Which one?” Jason prompts, looking up at the sky and muttering a quiet plea for patience. Please, don’t be Tim. Roy likes the kid well enough, but Jason’s already going to be tested in terms of restraint with the fact that the people they’re taking out have targeted kids. Kids who were under his direct protection for ages, and are still safe with the threat of violence for any who even consider going against such a rule. 

Neglecting to answer, Barbara goes silent, possibly to help someone else but also possibly to avoid the emotional fallout of breaking the news to Jay. 

“Little brother.” Roy swears, jumping a foot in the air and pulling a blade out from his thigh, pointing it at the direction of the sudden voice that was far too fucking close. 

The point of the blade meets a black throat, and Roy blinks at the eyes that stare at him without flinching. The eyes are dark, almost black, and see him far too well. It isn’t Junie’s flat stare, but rather a flickering gaze that assesses every inch of him far too quickly.

“Cass,” Jason greets, a little warmly. She snaps her gaze to him, and Roy breathes a silent sigh of relief at no longer feeling so cornered. Almost like a bug pinned and forced to spread its wings under the light. 

“Jay,” Cassandra returns, grinning wide enough her eyes crinkle. “Coming to Christmas?”

“Yeah, I'm coming,” Jay answers, glancing at Roy as he confirms, who shoots him back a thumbs up. Cassandra follows Jason's sight, and narrows her eyes at Roy for a moment. 

Then she claps her hands, enthused. “I win! Proud of you, Jay,” Cassandra tells him. Roy blinks, trying to figure out what, exactly, the woman won just by seeing the two of them together. Then he remembers what Barbara mentioned about the bet.

“You bet on us?” Roy asks her. Cassandra nods. Dammit, he is going to have to share what he wins now. He better find something worth quite a bit if he wants to keep a larger share.

“Mission? Now?” Cassandra bounces on the balls of her a little at that, cracking knuckles over her chest. Instead of responding verbally, Jason kicks up his discarded helmet and places it over his head. There's a quiet hiss as it locks, obscuring his face more than the domino he was in earlier would. “No killing,” Cassandra tells him. Normally, Jason would bristle at it, but she says it almost teasingly.

“Scouts honor,” Jason drawls, holding up a scouts salute. Both Roy and Cassandra roll their eyes, Jason was decidedly not a boy scout, rendering such an action completely meaningless, and Cassandra punches him in the shoulder. 

She holds her other hand up, but there's something wedged in between her fingers, spreading them apart. After a moment of both men trying to make out what she's done, the black gloves and black balls making it difficult in the little light of a Gotham night, Roy cackles as he figures it out.

Jason does soon after, and he snarls. “Give that back!”

“Sure. After mission,” Cassandra says pleasantly, doing a complicated wrist flick that sends the small bullets sailing through the air and into her free palm. She slips them into a compartment on her utility belt. 

“See if I save you,” Jason grunts. Cassandra pulls her hood over her black hair, springing into a back handspring and propelling herself over the edge of the roof. Which is just needlessly extra, but that kind of sums up Bats. Also Roy, a little bit. 

Roy takes off, sprinting into a leap to take him over the edge of the rooftop and after Orphan. He fires an arrow, wedging it to the next roof and letting the force of it pull him through the air. Soon, he hears the mechanical clicking of Jason following behind him.

They aren’t far, just enough that they didn’t have to worry about compromising themselves while they waited for Barbara’s go ahead. Roy and Jason take the rooves between them and their target apartment, Cassandra weaving in and out of the shadows around them, dancing across rooftops with a giddy ease. 

Landing on the top of the building, Roy turns to where Cassandra has crouched, and she whispers a quiet, “8-0-3.”

Near the top floor. There’s a buzz against his thigh, and Roy slips out his phone in order to see the notification. 

Batgirl:

Fourth window.

Showing the other two, Cassandra and Jason nod before slipping away, with Roy hurrying to follow them. From what Barbara’s files said when she looped Roy and Jason in, they’re dealing with a politician who’s involved. One of the benefactors of the little operation, and he had cultivated an image of pushing policies that help parents and families. 

Only to be supporting these trafficking rings behind the scenes. Safe to say, both Roy and Jason will enjoy taking this bastard down. 

Cassandra drops onto the window ledge below, before shuffling back and falling to another floor, catching herself by her fingertips on the window frame. Swinging herself back up, she crouches, toes the only part of her body keeping her from plummeting to the ground below from where they perch on the indent of the window frame. 

There’s some clicking, which Roy only hears because he’s listening for any sign of something being wrong. And then a slight creak as the window swings open, which has all of them wincing and waiting for any sign it was heard by potential occupants. 

“Clear,” Orphan calls, and Roy glances at his partner, who gestures him ahead. Inhaling, Roy sits on the edge of the roof, before twisting to press his front against the building, holding his weight up by his arms. 

Kicking off slightly, Roy releases his breath, just shy of a gasp, as he lets himself fall. It’s barely a second, but the way he has to force himself not to dig the toes of his boots into the wall to slow his fall makes it feel far longer. His stomach drops out, clattering to the floor below, even as he successfully latches onto the open window, hand curling around the inside ledge.

Small hands grip his forearms, and Roy brings his feet up to help him climb up the wall as he is pulled inside. Dropping into a roll in order to soften the thud of his landing, he avoids Cassandra as she ducks out the way and lets him catch his breath. 

There’s a woosh outside, a quiet groan of the wood as thick gloves catch themselves. Cassandra grabs the forearms again, tugging Jason’s body inside. With the scraping of his boots against the building’s wall, Jason brings his chest through the window, removing his arms from Cassandra’s grip and pushing on the wall beneath the window in order to get fully inside. 

As Jason lands softly, Roy gets up, and checks his surroundings. They’re in a study area, which is great, because if they can look through some things before the politician — Frederick Rogers — is any wiser, it’ll make the interrogation much easier. They need to make sure they get everyone, and having something to hold over a public figure like Rogers would make him sing far more quickly.

Heading to the desk, Roy examines the papers and documents that are on top, although he doubts it's anything important. It appears to be financial reports for an ad campaign, rows of neat numbers that appear to match up with what is expected.

He sets about the drawers next, pulling them out of the desk gently in order to eliminate the possibility of false bottoms or backs. The first has extra pens, pencils, paper, standard office supplies really. 

The next has previous reports and is a messy stack of files, which Roy sets aside in order to flick through it after he’s checked the entire desk. 

The final drawer, however, is much more interesting. Tucked into the back is a small, folded piece of paper. On the front, in ridiculous curly writing, are the words, Randall. Which, Roy is pretty sure was his brother.

Unfolding the paper reveals a long letter, which Roy skims. ‘If you’re reading this, I died’... ‘lawyer directed you here’... ‘I leave to you my personal funds’… ‘Remember the old Sycamore tree, where we made our own language’… ‘Look after— Wait. What?

Remember the old Sycamore tree, where we made our own language. It’s phrased like a question, a sentimental memory to give his brother post-mortem, but there is no mark to indicate it as such. Almost like he’s telling his brother to remember this tree. We thought we were so clever, when we only used substitution. How I wish to be so naive again, just the two of us. Okay, whatever, Roy couldn’t care about whatever nostalgia is going through this man’s head. What he really needs is this ‘language.’ He’s got an idea. 

“Found something?” Cass murmurs, suddenly at Roy’s shoulder. He jumps far less this time, thank God. 

“Maybe,” Roy whispers back. He opens the laptop, greeted with the prompt for a PIN number. Shit. “Jay, I need a PIN,” He hisses to his partner, who looks up from the books he was examining. Clicking his tongue, Jason scans the shelves, finding a frame that catches his attention enough to take it off the shelf. 

Prying the back apart, Jason slips out the photograph inside, turning it over and reading the date penciled in the corner. “Try 1129,” Jason calls. 

It doesn’t work. Roy tries it the other way around, 2911, and the screen blurs to transition to the home-page. Giving the man a thumbs up for his efforts, Roy navigates the homepage, dragging his mouth over the far too many folders. Seriously. There is no way all of these are used enough to need to be on the guy’s homescreen. 

All of them are cryptic in their names. Which, Roy wasn’t exactly expecting one named Incriminating Evidence, but damn if it wouldn’t make their job easier. Really, though, how does he know what 032034 means? 

“That one,” Cassandra points to a folder. Roy blinks, dragging the trackpad (honestly, his sins just keep piling up) to hover over it. It doesn’t look any different from the others, he has no idea why Cassandra seems confident, but he trusts her judgement. He clicks it.

A window pops up, declaring This Folder Is Locked. Enter Password: in a cheery font. Here, Roy tries the clues he found in the letter. Luckily, the password isn’t case sensitive.

SYC@M0R3. In red letters, it declares Incorrect password. Okay. Maybe he underestimated how clever these kids were. Substitution could also be a substitution cipher, but that would be far too difficult to try and rework in their limited time. He’s pretty sure Barbara has an algorithm for this, but she’s likely busy helping the others, otherwise she’d have spoken up by now. Damn it.

On a whim, Roy tries a caesar cipher. Substituting the word sycamore by two. UAECOQTG.

The screen refreshes, the contents of the file popping up. Thank fuck for criminals who think the height of security is an obscure password. 

Roy takes one look at the screen and slams the lid of the laptop down. He does not want to see any of that shit thank you. The sound draws the attention of Jason, and Roy shakes his head when he looks over with a confused frown. Cassandra holds her hands out for the laptop, and he hands it over, resisting the urge to wipe his hands on his pants, the feeling of them being dirty clinging to his mind.

Cassandra opens it. Her face turns from curious to disgust to rage, and then carefully falls blank, empty. In that moment, Roy wishes he could compartmentalise like a Bat. All he can think about is how terrified those children had to have been. How violated they would feel. How fucking sick the man who owns that computer is. How if it was Lian—

“What?” Jason murmurs, glancing between the two. Roy shakes his head, nausea clawing up to his mouth. 

“You don’t want to see it,” Roy tells him, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. Cassandra tenses, closing the laptop and hugging it to her chest, like she expects Jason to snatch it off her to do exactly that anyway. Jason hesitates, but when he realises how unsettled they both are, he reluctantly lets it go. Knowing him, he already has an idea of what they found. 

A light flicks on in the hallway, sending yellow creeping underneath the closed office door. For a split second, they all freeze, listening for signs that they’ve been found. 

Someone shuffles past, and Roy suddenly has the laptop shoved into his chest, leaving him scrambling to keep it from dropping to the floor. Cassandra is a blur, throwing the door open and leaping into the fight, cutting off the shout of alarm her target gives with the thud of her slamming into him and colliding with the floor.

Jason hurries after her, and Roy dumps the laptop on the desk as he races at the man’s heels.

When they catch up, Orphan is on top of Rogers, the man’s face red with anger as he spits threats and insults into the floor. Clearly, he doesn’t realise who he’s contending with here, because none of what he’s shouting about would intimidate a Bat.

“Orphan,” Jason warns. Rogers manages to move his eyes over to where the two red vigilantes stand, and he pales considerably upon realising who is in his apartment.

Cassandra pants, where she’s pressing her weight down on the man beneath her. For a moment, she doesn’t even twitch, no reaction that tells them if she heard them, let alone registered what they were saying. 

Then, she leans down, and pushes herself up and off Rogers. She tugs the limp man up, sitting him up before taking out a pair of Bat-Cuffs, and restraining his wrists behind him.

Rogers is very compliant now. Good. Jason steps forward, but Roy rests a hand on the man’s shoulder, slipping past him in order to approach the bastard who’s trembling on the floor. 

“Sorry to wake you up, Rogers,” Roy greets, casually. He takes out an extra arrowhead, twirling it between his fingers lazily. “You know, you really should organise your laptop homescreen,” He adds, crouching down to where the man is slumped on the floor. Roy hadn’t thought the politician could get any whiter, and yet he does exactly that as his eyes widen.

After a beat, in which the man only whimpers, Roy tuts. “You’ve got some nasty shit on there, that’s for sure. Enough to go to jail, definitely. After all, you seeked this out, gathered it, possessed it, all on your own. Because you’re a sick fuck.”

“I didn’t—” Rogers tries, but Roy throws the arrowhead in the air, drawing his attention to the object and shutting him up.

“Did you know several of those kids are missing? Presumed to be victims to a trafficking ring?” Roy continues, his voice growing colder with each word. Rogers shakes his head, frantically, but Roy nods back at him. “Yes, you did. You’re the one who paid for them. Commissioned them.” He curls his lip, absolutely disgusted. 

“Please…” Rogers rasps.

How many times did those children beg with that same word? “You have two options. Either you tell us who you’re working with from the traffickers, all the names you know, or when you do go to jail, everyone will know what you’re in for.” 

There isn’t even a moment of hesitation. Rogers blurts out his first name, glancing nervously between the two vigilantes in front of him. When Cassandra silently walks into his field of view as well, he hurries to start listing them all, first and last names or aliases. Cassandra rests a hand on Roy’s shoulder, waiting for him to look over to her. 

She smiles, melancholic, and pushes his shoulder, making him take a step away from the scene. Roy glances to Jason, who meets his gaze for a moment before giving a tiny nod.

Roy almost sprints back to the window they came in through. 

Scrambling out and up, he climbs quickly, finally rolling onto the roof. He gets his feet under him, and takes a running leap to the closest rooftop, barely pausing before moving to the next one. 

When there’s some distance, Roy presses a hand to his mouth, trying to regain his composure. Fuck. Fuck. 

Pacing the length of the roof, Roy ignores the slight shake to his hands, trying to latch his thoughts onto anything other than what he just saw. He goes through as many dog breeds as he can remember. After that, he goes through every coffee order.

He’s up to different car models when Jason and Cassandra finally show up, Jason beelines for him, throwing his arms around him in a gentle hug.

“We’ve got them all,” Jason tells him. “Babs confirmed.” Roy sighs, a hollow sort of comfort ringing through his chest at the words. They’re caught, they’re going away, but it doesn’t magically remove all the pain they have caused.

Cassandra walks closer, giving him a smile with her eyes, understanding rippling through all three of them. Roy hates cases that involve kids. Fractured youth that they have to try and piece together, a heartbreaking mosaic that nonetheless is needed to catch those who took the hammers to it in the first place. 

“Heads up, Batman is headed your way,” Barbara warns. Roy stiffens, pulling away from Jason and preparing to make an escape. Jason lets him step away, but doesn’t react in any other way. 

When Roy examines Jason, he sees the determined set of his shoulders. “I can’t. Not tonight. I can’t act like I’m not allowed to be here, not when I’m goin’ to the manor tomorrow,” He tells Roy. He almost whispers it, like a shameful secret he expects Roy to scorn him for, but Roy only grins, grabbing his partner’s hand and squeezing it.

“Alright,” Roy agrees easily. Cassandra nods beside him, stepping back to be encased by the shadows, not leaving but giving them space. 

Eventually, Batman does arrive. 

It’s the ears that Roy first notices. Two points on the cowl that in the past he’d joked with the Titans looking like cat ears. In the darkness of Gotham's night, their real effect is revealed, and it looks far more like devil horns. 

“Arsenal. You are supposed to gain clearance from one of Gotham’s vigilantes before operating in the city,” Batman states, voice low, gravelly. All of the intimidation factors fly out the window for Roy at the words, because there are so many fucking implications in them. Anger sparks in him instead. 

Before he can respond, Jason steps in front of him, and Roy doesn’t miss the protective undercurrent of the move. “I cleared him, fuckwit,” Jason snaps. “Fuck off, Arsenal helped us.”

Batman pauses, faltering, almost, in the face of Jason’s anger. “Hood.” He says, something off about his tone. Jason only bristles more, maybe interpreting the odd note as something threatening, but when Batman continues to be silent for a moment he drops into wariness instead. 

“What.”

“I… regret how last night went between us,” Batman states. Roy gawks, uncaring of what it might look at. He’s never heard Batman give an apology, but he’s never seen Batman really need to do so. His interactions with the man have been pretty slim. Ollie can also be a bit much, and difficult to get an apology from, but at least when he does give one he actually says the fucking words. 

Batman sounds like he’s pulling his own teeth, and the most he can muster up is that he ‘regrets’ the argument? Good fucking lord, the Bats make even more sense now. He’d be emotionally stunted with a brick wall for a father figure too. 

“Good for you. That isn’t a fuckin’ apology,” Jason snarls. “For fucks sake, if you came all this way just to snap at Arsenal for helpin’, — who followed our lead and everythin’ else you tell your buddies to do, by the way —  and give me some half-assed excuse for an apology, then save yourself the trouble and don’t bother next time.”

Jason falls silent, body poised to flee or fight, and Batman sighs. It’s exasperated, like dealing with a teenager who is asking something unreasonable, and Roy resists the urge to yell at the man himself. “Hood—”

He cuts himself off. Works his jaw a few times. Then he withdraws. Nods. Without another word, he sweeps his cape around, dropping off the roof and being swallowed by the city of Gotham.

Frozen, Roy watches Jason as he stares at where the man left. His chest rises, falls, breathes. For a few moments, they simply exist and process. 

“Let’s go get Lian,” Jason says. His tone isn’t strained, just weighed by exhaustion and the burden of knowledge. That Batman has to want to change himself, no matter how much Jason and those around him wish for it, otherwise he never will. 

Instead of offering empty words, sweet lies told to comfort, Roy hums an agreement. He entwines their hands, lacing their fingers, squeezing and receiving one with just as much pressure back. 

Cassandra emerges, wraps her arms around both their shoulders in order to knock them together for a hug, and is gone just as quickly as she arrived. 

“I’m proud of you,” Roy tells Jason. 

“I love you,” Jason responds. 

“I love you, too. Let's get our daughter and go home.”

Chapter Text

Lian is bouncing off the walls all morning, absolutely ecstatic and unable to be satiated with anything other than them actually arriving at the manor. 

They don’t leave till after lunch. 

Jason is unsettled, nervous, and has done a lot of stress baking in the days they’ve been in Gotham. To the point where even Lian, who normally has a wicked sweet tooth, is flagging in eating all of the final products. He’s made the desserts he always does, but basically doubled the batches as well as making other creations. 

As much as it exasperates Roy, opening the fridge or the cupboard and seeing so many containers of sweet shit, it’s a better habit than the compulsive cleaning of his guns and other weapons with a child in the house. So, he doesn’t comment on it. Although he does pack them in the car to take to the manor, because surely he can offload them onto Alfred and everyone else there. It really isn’t in his daughter’s best interests to keep eating so much unhealthy food.

Roy drove them to the manor. Jason tried to insist otherwise, but Roy could see the jerky movements of his partner and put his foot down. It’s a terrifying environment to drive in, but he’ll manage far better than Jay who is a bit of a wreck at the moment.

When they pull up, Jason is very close to a panic attack. Roy cuts the engine, uncaring if he’s parked where he’s supposed to be, and undoes his seatbelt, twisting to lean over the centre console. He places a hand on Jason’s cheek, and the man flinches before he accepts the touch. 

“Hey, Jaybird,” Roy murmurs. Casting a glance to the back seat, he sees Lian frowning in concern. He flashes her a reassuring smile, before returning his attention to his husband. “We don’t have to do this. We can turn right around, go back to the apartment, and have a Christmas just the three of us.”

Licking his lips, Jason hesitates, before jerking his head in a shake. “No. I… I want to try. Just… Just give me a minute.”

“Okay, Dad,” Lian chirps, and both of them chuckle a little at the easy agreement. “We have time, right, Dad?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, we do,” Roy answers. 

They sit in silence for a moment. Two. And then Jason shoves the car door open sharply and decisively, stepping out onto the pavement after unbuckling. Roy follows him out, but stops to help Lian out of the car and grab her hand. Maybe it’s to support Lian, meeting all these new people, or maybe it’s to support Roy. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it can be both.

Jason takes a deep breath, and Roy snakes his hand around his elbow. Smiling tightly, begins to walk to the large front doors of the manor. 

He doesn’t even get to knock, which is probably for the best, as Alfred swings it open before he can even raise his hands. The butler is wearing… a headband with reindeer antlers. And a deep maroon suit. He looks rather festive, really. Roy is impressed that someone managed to convince him to let go of his usual standard of dress. 

“Master Jason, Master Roy,” he greets each of them in turn, his smile softening as he takes in Jason’s nervous demeanor and Roy’s grounding grip on his arm. “It is wonderful to see you. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Grandestfather!” Lian chirps, and Alfred beams at her. Which, for the man, is more of a crinkle of the eyes and pleasant smile, but for anyone else they’d be positively jumping in the air. 

“Merry Christmas, Dear Lian,” He tells her. Lian worms her hand out of Roy’s grip and wraps herself around Alfred’s legs, the butler returning the hug.

“We have to get some stuff out of the car—” Jason says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. Alfred nods, and then nudges them inside. 

“I’ll handle that. You two should make yourselves comfortable, and meet the rest of the family. Properly.” Lian gasps, lighting up, and that seals their fate. Jason has the decency to only look a little put out by the thwarting of his attempt to stall, and Roy releases his hold on his partner in order to scoop their daughter off the floor. 

Placing her on his hip, they both turn expectantly to Jay, who grimaces. It only takes a little staring to get him moving, though, and he sets off down the maze of the place without any more fuss. 

As they get closer, they hear happy chatter, and Lian wriggles a little in Roy’s grip as she gets more excited. Jason rounds the corner of the doorway first, with Roy right behind him.

The space the family is gathered in is large, but cozy with plush furniture and a roaring fireplace. Roy checks each occupant, trying to match the names he knows to faces as a test to himself before he gets proper introductions. 

Dick is easy, of course, lounging on a loveseat in a position only a contortionist could achieve with even a modicum of comfort. There’s a raven-haired boy sitting on the floor, back against the seat Dick is sprawled across, a pillow beneath him and playing cards fanned out in his grip. His shoulders are relaxed, and it takes Roy an extra moment to register the kid as Tim, far more at ease than he’d ever seen the boy as Red Robin. 

Across from him, the coffee table between them, is a scowling young boy, the youngest and smallest there, his hair spiky and shoulders curled in a full glare. Damian, or as Jason has affectionately nicknamed him, Demon Brat, by the looks of things. Next to him, there’s a girl cackling, blond hair bouncing as her shoulders shake, accidentally flashing her hand to the guy next to her, who is leaning over surreptitiously to peek. Stephanie, Roy would recognise that laugh anywhere, and likely… Duke? Across from them sits Selina, smirking as she slips a card up her sleeve in the light chaos.

Bruce sits on the couch behind Selina, only his side-profile visible as the corner of his mouth twitches up. Cassandra sits at the corner between Tim and Stephanie, legs crossed and clearly only watching rather than playing. 

For several beats, no one notices them. Then Cassandra gasps, grinning, and everyone follows her gaze to where the three of them linger in the entrance. 

First to move, Dick slithers off the loveseat and rolls to his feet, popping up in order to close the distance. “Lian!” He cheers, the girl giggles and holds her arms out at the word.

“Uncle Dick!” She squeals, and Roy shifts his grip to allow Dick to pick her up off this side. Spinning her with a grip under her shoulders, Dick laughs with her, before throwing her in the air and catching her in a smooth motion. Maybe it says something about Roy that moves like that no longer have his stomach bottoming out from him. 

“Oh, wow, I see how it is. You’re only friends with me for my daughter,” Roy snarks, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “I’m feeling the love.”

Chuckling, Dick bounces Lian, her knees resting against the slope of his chest. He twists them both to look at Roy, and nods in response. “Sorry, Roy, but you are nowhere as cute as this face.” Which. Yeah. Fair.

“Hey, Roy,” Tim greets, although the furrow of his brow gives away his confusion at his presence. “Merry Christmas. Did you guys finish a mission?”

“No cave talk upstairs!” Stephanie hisses, slapping him on the shoulder. “You know this!”

“I’m just saying—”

“Tim, I love you man, but I am not getting scolded by Alfred on Christmas Eve,” Duke interrupts, placing his cards carefully on the table, face-down. 

“Tt,” Damian clicks, “If you three cannot follow simple rules—”

Selina stands up, wandering closer and pulling Jason into a brief but tight hug. “Merry Christmas, kitten. It’s good to see you,” She tells him, giving a warm smile before turning to Roy. “And you, Roy. Thank you for dragging him here.” Pulled into a hug, Roy grins as he returns it, withdrawing quickly. 

“Hey, Selina,” Jason greets. It’s the first words he’s said so far, and when Roy glances over he’s got a nervous smile plastered on. She grips his shoulders, squeezing, before dropping away.

“Dick, let me meet my granddaughter properly,” She tells the man, who twists his body out of the way of her reaching hands. “Richard.”

“No, Selina,” Dick returns, narrowing his eyes into a glare. 

“Sorry— Granddaughter?!” Roy glances back to the rest of the room, seeing Tim and Stephanie gawking unabashedly at them. Duke is a little confused, but not nearly as bewildered as the other two. Even Damian has twisted around to look at them with a frown. 

Roy glances at Bruce. The man is stoic, staring at Jason with a blank expression. He must feel the weight of Roy’s look, though, because his gaze snaps to meet him. For a split second, he leaves his mask with Jason, and Roy can see the wavering beneath the hard exterior. They are unguarded. Roy watches the flicker of confusion, of unease and unknowing, the mismatched reflections of who Jason is and who Bruce thought him to be. 

Something different from the boy who died and the man that stands before him today. Nothing that he can condemn and vilify, like the killing or the lazarus green eyes, nothing to martyr himself with and hold against Jason at the same time. Instead it’s a symbol of Jason moving on, finding the love and connection he was not afforded once the bomb hit zero.

The love and connection Bruce never allows himself since the bomb hit zero. Fear paralysing his heart and keeping the deep affection and knowing of someone from reaching him at his core.

For as much as Roy is angered by Bruce. By what he has done to Jason, his refusal to apologise, the way he worked his Robins and possibly continues to do so, at the end of the day Roy feels only pity for the broken man. The one who never left that alley, not truly.

Then Bruce shutters his face, and he retreats behind the walls he clings to. Anything to keep the vulnerability away from anyone around him. 

“I’ve been married for over a year, guys, keep up,” Jason mutters, jokes, and Roy snorts at the pure shock it leaves almost everyone. Dick and Selina are distracted by Lian, but they already knew this information. Cassandra watches everyone with amusement glittering in her eyes, watching all the tells and microexpressions only she can see as everyone processes this news. 

“This is a joke,” Stephanie mumbles. 

“For once I agree with Brown,” Damian adds. Roy rolls his eyes, grabs Jason by the collar, and presses a quick kiss to his lips. When they pull away, all of them seem only more bewildered.

Except Duke, who says, “That could just be a kiss for the homies, though. I think we need to see a deeper one to make sure—” A pillow collides with his face, interrupting his joke. Everyone follows the trajectory to see Dick, having lost the battle over Lian when Selina bribed her with cat photos, making a gagging noise.

“I’m happy for them both, but I do not need to see my best friend necking my little brother,” Dick declares. Next to Roy, Jason mutters under his breath ‘Necking?’ but doesn’t acknowledge his statement any further. 

“Wait. You’re the mystery guest?” Stephanie squawks, pointing an accusing finger at Roy. Roy grins, waving his fingers, and she growls wordlessly in frustration. 

“You knew,” Tim snaps, pointing at Dick instead. “You told us you thought it was for Roy and Kori!”

Giddy, Dick sings, “Never officially~!” and both Stephanie and Tim groan. Duke laughs at them. 

“Hm. As juvenile as it is to place bets on such trivial matters, Grayson played you all well,” Damian tsks, turning his nose up at them. His words draw Lian’s attention, and Roy watches as cogs turn in her head, eyes darting between everyone gathered.

“Uncle Damian?” She asks. Damian’s gaze whips to her, his expression abandoning the scowl and looking achingly youthful in his surprise. “That’s you, right?”

“Y-Yes,” Damian stammers. Lian grins, and wriggles until Selina lets her off her hip, where she beelines straight for the boy. 

Lian bounces on the balls of her feet, standing next to Damian with a toothy grin stretching across her face. “Daddy told me you like to draw!” Tilting his head with a suspicious air, Damian hesitantly confirms this information. “I do too! Can we do it together, please?”

“I doubt—”

“Little D,” Dick interrupts. “Just do it with her for five minutes, okay? She’ll get bored after a bit.” Damian curls his lip in a silent growl, glaring at Dick and beginning a silent battle of wills.

He caves first, of course. Huffing a, “Fine. Let me get my supplies,” and stalking down the hall. Dick immediately smirks, which makes Roy drop his assurances that he doesn’t have to force his youngest sibling to make nice with Lian. That’s the smirk he wore when he was scheming at the Titans, so clearly something more is being achieved here.

“Hello, Lian,” Stephanie pipes up, catching the girl’s attention. “I’m Steph!”

“Aunty Steph!” Lian cheers, lunging forward to get a hug from the woman, who melts at the title. 

As Lian meets her other Aunt and Uncles, Roy notices that Bruce had slipped away at some point during the exchanges. He frowns, not wanting to interrupt the smile on his partner’s face as he watches Lian interact with his extended family, but is annoyed at the fact that the man slunk off. 

Selina sidles up next to him, leaning in his ear and murmuring, “Give him a moment. Let him process.”

Which, Roy does guess he got told his son has a husband he never knew about, so he awards him one allowance. 

“God, Tim, support her back. Have you never held a child?” Jason calls, both a reminder and a jeer. In a stilted movement, Tim adjusts the girl who has climbed into his lap in order to give Jason his middle finger behind her back. Lian leans back in order to make some gesture, talking a mile a minute, and Tim hurries to put his other hand on her back in order to keep her from toppling into the coffee table.

Laughing, and shaking his head, Jason catches Roy watching him. “What?” He asks, a hint of laughter still in his voice.

“It’s nice seeing you with your family. With her. It’s worth it all,” Roy tells him, knowing he’s being ridiculously sappy. Jason grins, leaning in for a kiss, which Roy returns immediately.

They only get a few seconds before they’re pelted by various bits of food. Breaking apart, Jason glares at his siblings, who all laugh, completely unrepentant. Roy laughs, picking a piece of cucumber out of his hair and flicking it onto the floor with the rest of the ammunition.

Alfred won’t be happy, but they were attacked, so they could probably get away with just a few looks about the fact that they didn’t pick it up.

Clicking approaches, along with a light jingling, and that is all the warning they get before a big hulking mass of a dog leaps at Jason’s back, bringing him to the floor and knocking Roy down with him. 

“Titus!” Jason cheers, turning over and meeting the dog’s excitement. “Hey, big boy,” He croons, and then starts batting at his nose lightly with his hands. The dog pants, barking, and jumps against the man’s chest. He nips playfully, a rumbling growl beginning as the two wrestle on the ground.

Roy shuffles away from the battleground, watching fondly as his partner plays with the dog, rolling around together as Jason echoes the growl with an imitation. 

Damian rounds the corner, with another dog at his heels, and calls a sharp “Titus!” that has the dog pausing from where he’s jumping on Jason. The great dane (Roy thinks that’s the breed) looks to the boy, head tilted. “Do not let Todd lure you into acting like a simpleton,” Damian scolds. The dog yips. Damian rolls his eyes which the animal takes as permission to continue his play session. 

An aging german shepherd, the dog that had been at Damian’s heels, approaches Roy warily. Roy offers a limp hand for the dog to sniff, which does with a whuff. After an intense inspection, the dog wanders over to Dick, wagging his tail in hope as he sits at the man’s feet.

Damian walks past the scuffle, approaching the coffee table and laying out his art supplies over the discarded game of cards. Titus pauses, watching the movement, and then Jason cuffs him behind the ear, drawing the dog back into the wrestle.

Lian immediately joins him, sitting on the floor and crossing her legs as she listens to Damian’s explanations of each piece he brought with him. The german shepherd approaches her, sniffing her hair behind her ears with an intensity that puts Lian in giggles. Eventually, he seems happy with whatever he smells, because he lies down, curling around her and resting his head on her knee. Lian coos, quietly, and runs her hands through the fur along his head. 

“Ace seems to have chosen you,” Steph tells her, grinning when Lian looks at her. “He’s really picky. You’re pretty special!” 

Lian looks back down to the dog with even more awe, scratching behind his ears. She continues to do so as she returns her attention to Damian explaining different pencil grades with care. It’s adorable, really, to see Damian explaining all these technical terms that Lian likely couldn’t care less about.

Dick walks closer, to where Selina was previously sitting and opening a drawer. He rifles through it, eventually pulling out his hand with a small rectangle in his hands. 

“Uno?” He asks. Tim grins, Steph pumps a fist, and Duke smirks in challenge. Roy lunges closer, grabbing the deck from his friend’s hands and opening the box to slip the cards out. 

He fans the deck, examining the condition of the cardboard for signs of deterioration or wear-and-tear. Unfortunately, it’s a new pack, crisp and lacking any identifying marks he could use to see where cards are in other’s hands. He riffles, bending the cards a little in order to break them in slightly. Glancing up as he riffles them again, he sees Steph and Duke both watching his flourishes with fascination. 

Grinning, he springs the deck, the cards flowing between his hands. It’s been a while since he’s done any tricks, but he drops into the familiar movements easily. Just to be extra dramatic, he does a one-handed cut, isolating a single card and twirling it around his fingers as he lets the packets collide into a deck again. 

He sends the card sailing to Cass, who catches it easily with a grin. She sends it back, flicking her wrist rather than her fingers like Roy, who catches it and adds it back to the deck. “So, any house rules?” He asks the group. Cass looks delighted, while Steph exchanges a wary glance with Duke. Tim appears far less confident himself. The only two who are entirely unaffected are Jason and Dick. Jason’s seen him do far more complex tricks with far more dangerous objects up close, and as for Dick…

“Don’t worry, he’s flashy to cover up for the fact that he’s shit— Ah! Ow!” Dick yelps, clutching his eye as the card that hit just below it falls to the ground. The man huffs, checking the fingertips for blood as he drops his hand from his face. “I just speak the truth!”

“I seem to remember a certain game you were routinely last in…” Roy trails off, Dick glaring at him. It was Monopoly. He just wasn’t wired for that kind of game. Other strategy games? He is downright ruthless, but when games drag on for far too long he tends to get antsy and then he tends to miss important movements or choices other players make. 

“That game is banned, anyway,” Dick mutters. Which… seems excessive. “Alfred doesn’t like it when we play.” Nevermind. Whatever the reason was, it would have been completely justified. 

Steph jumps to her feet, clapping her hands. “Right! Uno! We play with the official rules, except you can stack plus cards. Make sense?”

Jason and Tim end up viciously targeting each other throughout the games, but with them being exactly opposite each other, plenty of crossfire occurs. Selina joins them for a few games, before slipping away to hunt down Alfred.

No one dares to mention the fact that Damian sketches with Lian for the entire time, listening and engaging gently with Lian’s conversations. Titus settles down next to Roy, who uses him as a convenient back-rest, while Ace remains a loyal companion to the two youngest. It’s a warm afternoon, and the time ticks by with light-hearted competitive arguments and laughter.

Jason left for the bathroom a while ago, far too long. Roy had tried to withhold the urge to go after him, suspicion feeling out of place with all of his partner's siblings around him, arguing their way through a game of Scum. 

He bows out of the next game, asking for directions to the nearest bathroom. 

Armed with vague directions, Roy pokes his head into a few incorrect rooms before he registers the raised voices. One of which is Jason. Fuck.

Following his ears, he walks deeper into the hallways, eventually finding Jason and Bruce arguing outside a room. Bruce’s back is to Roy, leaving a lot of his ability to read the man limited, but he can see Jason’s defensive posture and expression.

Stepping into view, Roy watches as Jason’s eyes flick past Bruce to him, and he seems to relax a little when their gazes meet. Not quite relaxed, actually. He shifts from defensive to offensive, squaring his shoulders and meeting Bruce’s eye properly. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, B,” Jason says, lowering his voice a little. “I’m livin’ my fuckin’ life.”

“I didn’t even know you were dating someone, Jaylad. Are you sure you didn’t rush into this? I know we had a bad argument before you left—”

“For fuck’s sake, Bruce! Not everythin’ is about you!” Jason snaps. “I love Roy. We’d been datin’ for years! Just because you didn’t ask—”

“I wasn’t going to pry into your personal life!” Bruce tries, pleads. 

“That isn’t pryin’! Askin’ me shit is called basic-fuckin’-caring about your damn son! You can’t pick an’ choose what you want from me! Do you want a fuckin’ relationship or not?” 

There’s a beat of silence. Jason laughs derisively. 

“Jaylad—”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” Jason growls. “You want me to be that little boy so fuckin’ bad. I can’t! You buried him. I don’t have to be your fuckin’ minion who follows your every order! I’m my own fuckin’ person! My choices are my own. Not some teenage rebellion or lazarus-mind-fuckery or anythin’!” 

“You are a murderer, Jason. I can’t accept that. Not with the rampage you went on when you first showed up—”

Jason tugs on his hair, sighing in frustration before interrupting with, “I wasn’t on some fuckin’ murder spree! I was completely in control of that shit! I’m not the only murderer in this fucked family. Or even in that damn room! What about Damian, huh? Or Cass? Hell even Dick murdered that clown fucker before you brought him back—”

“Damian and Cass were forced to. That would have destroyed Dick—”

“This is your fuckin’ problem! You don’t know that! Just because killin’ would have broken you, just because you don’t have the self-control to stop once you start, doesn’t mean everyone else has that problem! You expect to be able to say jump and for all of us to ask how high! You force your fuckin’ ideals on us!” 

“And how has stopping killing gone for you, hm? Tell me, Jason. How high is your kill count now? How many people has that partner of yours let you kill? He’s a sniper, Jason, he’s enabling you—”

“I haven’t killed since I left here!” Jason shouts. The words seem to echo in the sharp, sudden silence. Bruce takes a step back, and it emboldens the younger further. “I can choose! I’m not some fuckin’ mindless killing monster! Fun-fuckin’-fact, I actually don’t like killin’! It’s messy and shitty and leaves widows and orphans. I just understand that sometimes it’s the best fuckin’ option!”

“Jason, I couldn’t kill the Joker. I can’t—”

“Yeah, B, I know,” Jason sighs. “I realised that when you threw a batarang at my throat. It’s not like I was asking you to kill a fuckin’ street-level gangster. That piece of scum deserves nothin’, and he will never get better. He will keep killin’. He doesn’t have the ability to understand his actions. So are the people he kills on him, or you?”

Bruce is silent. Jason steps to the side, trying to shoulder past Bruce. 

“I don’t hate that you didn’t save me, B. Or even that you didn’t kill the Joker. I hate that you are so stuck in the past you can’t move on with me. I want my dad back. Fuck, I want Lian to have a Grandfather on my side, too.”

“You do, Jason. Of course you have me—”

“Don’t shit yourself, Bruce. You can’t even apologise properly.”

Jason stalks away, towards Roy. Roy reaches out a hand, trying to rest it on his shoulder, but Jason dodges it and continues walking. Watching him go, Roy sighs, at which point he glances back at Bruce. 

The man is watching him. Blank.

“If I’m alone in a room with you for too long I cannot be held responsible for my actions,” Roy tells him, the honest truth. 

“Harper, I don’t know what Jason has told you, but I’m not—”

“Jason has actually told me very little,” Roy interrupts. “All heroes are trained in victim recognition. You have it as one of the necessary areas of training for prospective members of the Titans. I can see a pattern, a history with abuse, and the symptoms of many different complex trauma responses. You need to get it through your thick skull that maybe the common denominator in all your fucked relationships is you. And that therapy isn’t your fucking enemy.”

Roy spins on his heel, walking away without another word. He doesn’t need a response, he expects nothing of the man, and he knows he probably won’t like whatever he is told. 

Rounding the corner, he finds Jason leaning against the wall of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest. Roy slots in next to him, leaning on him, and then sliding them both down to sit on the floor. He rests his head on Jason’s shoulder, as the man tries to control his breathing. 

“Batarang, huh?” Roy asks. He always wondered what snapped Jason out of it. What started the globe-trotting adventures that led to him rescuing Roy from a death-sentence. A batarang to the neck from his father seems like it would have done it.

Hollowly, Jason chuckles, and he rubs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Don’t— Don’t really like thinking about it. Got a bit too close to being back under, there.”

Humming, Roy shuffles closer, taking a deep breath and feeling Jason echo the movement without fully realising. It’s nice, that he can support his partner like this. They give and take without worrying about an overall tally, something that is freeing for both of them who have always been so afraid to even feel like they owe anyone anything. 

Silence encases them, and Roy worms a hand between Jay and the wall in order to squeeze him into a proper hug.

Once they feel less jagged around the edges, they will return to the family festivities. Lian will run to them, ordering them to come and appropriately appreciate her artistic masterpiece. Another round of Scum will begin, with Jason starting quieter than he was for Uno, but eventually returning to the swearing and competitive anger.

They will return to enjoying their family’s company. Regardless of arguments and throbbing scars.

Dinner is a loud affair, but it begins in awkward silence.

When Roy, Jason, and Lian walk into the dining room, Bruce is already settled at the head of the table, with everyone else in various states of taking their seats. 

Lian, having been dragged away from her art time with her Uncle, immediately perks up at the smell of food. However, she slips away from Jason and Roy’s side, who watch with amusement as she circles the table.

Only to stop next to Bruce. Jason tenses, and Roy prepares to call Lian back over, but he places a hand in front of him before he can. A clear message. Just wait, for a moment.

“Are you Bruce?” Lian asks. Bruce seems surprised, to be acknowledged by her, and he flicks his gaze to where her fathers linger, not taking their own seats.

“Yes, I am,” Bruce answers, looking back at Lian. Lian grins, and she leans forward onto Bruce’s knee, standing on her tiptoes. 

“You’re my grandpa!” She chirps. This definitely shocks Bruce, who blinks at the girl as if she’s an alien creature. “I didn’t know I had two grandpas. Jason says you’re his dad like how Grandpa Ollie is Roy’s dad. It’s nice ot meet you. I’m Lian. I love you!”

Roy sees it, the change in Bruce. The way he But Roy only softens and melts and falls. This little girl proclaiming him her grandpa so easily.

None of his children have ever given him this. Dick was too angry, too determined to enshrine his parents for fear that touching their memories would wear them out, that to invite someone else in was replacement instead of living and moving on. Jason wore the scars of his biological father, life on the streets where no one cared or looked at him twice except in scorn, unwilling to bare his soul for fear of rejection.

Tim saw him as a duty, a responsibility he shouldered as the boy tried to put the broken man back together, someone who only saw shadows lurking behind the figure of the boy. Steph had been freshly free of her father, used by the man she trusted to guide her, and too confident in herself to allow him to cow her. 

Cass hadn’t known the meaning of the word, and once she did she only saw father as pain and isolation, associated Bruce as Bruce rather than a father. Damian viewed him as a father as one would a trophy, something he had to earn and maintain rather than a love that should be given freely without constrants. Duke had never needed him as a father, a mentor and support system, yes, but he had his own parents and was content with the training and supplies Bruce provided him.

But Roy doesn’t know this. He only knows his daughter.

Lian who has two fathers who are patient and loving, who are determined not to repeat the past’s mistakes, and she knows no other reality. She has Ollie, who has flourished as a grandfather for her, and the rest of Roy’s family who have come together for her. Her innocence has been kept, it is allowing to slowly shed from her rather than be snatched away with hands clawed in blood. She gives her love easily, freely, because she has people around her to allow her to.

This kindness and childhood takes Bruce by surprise. The man who grew up in the blood splattered alley. The man who guarded his heart and grew thorned vines that barred people from access as well as cutting his own flesh. 

“Hello, Lian. It’s nice to meet you too,” Bruce tells her. He doesn’t say I love you back. No one expected him to, perhaps not even Lian, given that she doesn’t bat an eye. “Are you excited for Christmas?”

“Yes! Aunt Stephie says that we are going to watch movies after dinner. Can I watch one with you?” Lian chatters. Roy relaxes, resting a hand on Jason’s shoulders as he walks past him to take a seat. As he settles, he looks at Steph across from him, the woman mouthing a giddy Aunt Stephie to Tim who’s rolling his eyes. 

“Of course, Lian,” Bruce says, tone pleasant.

Satisfied, Lian waves goodbye and wanders back towards Jason. Jason lets her past, and follows her to sit on her other side when she takes a seat next to Roy. 

Dinner passes quickly, with everyone at the table chatting and laughing. Dick, Tim, and Jason make it a game to try and hit each other with food without Alfred seeing, only to get caught by the butler half-way through the meal. Roy has no doubt that Alfred knew the whole time, but didn’t say anything because of how everyone is actually getting along. Just to be petty, Roy fires a spoon of mashed potato at each of them, while Alfred is distracted, and lands perfect shots. He recieves matching glares for his involvement. 

Steph chats with Selina, talking animatedly about something to do with art, with Damian listening intently next to her. Duke and Cass talk quietly, and when Lian buts her way into the conversation they include her easilty. 

Content to sit in silence, Bruce watches them eat and talk. 

It’s messy and loud, with people talking across each other and waving utensils around as they speak, dishes being passed up and down the table as people ask for seconds and new food. But it’s easy, warm, and far better than Roy had been expecting when Jason suggested this in the first place.

It feels like Christmas, and like they’re a far more functional family than they really are. 

“What’s your favourite Christmas movie, Lian?” Duke asks, as everyone settles into the home-theatre. It’s not really a home-theatre, given how fucking expensive it is, but that’s besides the point. The reclining armchairs have been pushed to the back, and the pillows and blankets raided to create a nest on the floor. 

Dick is sprawled, upside down, with Steph lying down in front of him. Cass cuddles close to her, their legs entwined and her head on the blond’s shoulder. Tim is by Dick’s side, with Bruce on his left. Damian sits in front of the man, leaning back into his large body, with Selina holding Lian on her lap on Bruce’s free side. Lian holds Bruce’s hand, but looks up at Duke when the man asks her the question. 

“Home Alone!” Lian declares. Which tracks, given the fact that last year when she was first shown in, her fathers both had to contend with ‘traps’ for days after. It took them threatening to ban the movie next year for her to stop.

“Alright, Home Alone first, then,” Duke responds, clicking something on his phone and bringing the movie up on the screen. He starts it, and then walks back to Tim and slumps across him, the other letting out a dramatic oof. Jason snorts, Roy feeling his shoulder shake from where he rests the back of his head. He sits in front of his partner, leaning back and holding his arms over Jason’s where they’re wrapped around him. 

As they watch a young Macaulay Culkin defeat the would-be robbers with increasingly clever tricks, the Bats all argue about how they would get around the surprises and ways to improve each of the contraptions. It devolves into a brief argument about whether any hypotheticals should be based in the manor with Bat-tech or not, before it is resolved with the clarification that any and all suggestions should be achieveable within the premise of the movie. There is also the stipulation made that everything should be achievable by a normal eight-year-old. None of them actually know what this is, though, so it’s slowly dropped as the movie progresses.

Lian stays where she is for the first movie, but in the brief intermission where they try to figure out the next movie to watch, she slips out of Selina’s lap and moves back to where Jasona and Roy are relaxed. She clambers onto Roy’s lap with a yawn, and Jason drops his arms so that she can rest against Roy’s chest. 

Hugging her close, Roy sighs as Klaus begins playing. She manages to stubbornly stay awake until over halfway through the movie, but when he glances at her slack face during the destruction of the toys, he grins at seeing her having lost the battle to sleep.

The family offers lighter commentary, this time, more so around how the logistics of actually producing so many toys would work. Then, of course, it’s on how they would de-escalate the mob and apprehend them, because nothing can be normal with so many Bats gathered in one space.

Someone suggests Rudolph, The Red Nosed Reindeer, and a chunk into the movie Jason starts running a hand through Roy’s hair. He hears quiet discussions over what could actually cause Rudolph’s glowing nose, but he doesn’t bother to hear the finer details being argued over. Damian also scorns Rudolph for not standing up to his bullies, while Steph argues about the reindeer’s pure heart that allows him to guide the sleigh along with his nose, or something. 

Happy to doze, Roy dips in and out of a light sleep. He hears someone say something, feels the rumble of Jason’s chest as he chuckles, and hears a murmur, “He hasn’t been sleepin’ as well, recently. Thinks I don’t know.”

“You two are cute,” A light voice adds. “And I’m an aunt now. Best Christmas present ever. You have to visit more often now.”

“Or you could go visit them. That’s what I’ve done a few times.”

“Shut up, Dick, I’m mad you kept me from my niece.”

“They didn’t exactly seem to be shouting it from the rooftops!”

“Maybe we will. Visit more, I mean. Or you lot could drop in, save us the trouble of organisin’.”

“Are you… Jason Todd… inviting us to spend time with you?”

“Don’t rub it in, replacement, or I’ll take it back. Lian enjoys havin’ more family.”

“Sure. Only Lian does.”

“Fuck off.”

Slipping into a deeper sleep, Roy remains unconscious for an unknown time. When he does climb back to being half-awake, he keeps his eyes closed as he simply enjoys lying there, feeling the warmth of his partner behind him and the weight of his daughter on top of him. It takes a while for him to realise there’s quiet chatter. 

“...Should’a seen the look on his face. He’d thought we’d been datin’ for months.”

“Had you been?” Prods a low voice, gravelly at the edges but syllables crisp with a posh lilt. 

There’s a pause, and then, “Kinda. Weren’t really plannin’ anythin’. Just happened, y’know? But then Lian was callin’ me dad too and I was there all the time and I had just…”

“Fit,” Bruce finishes. A slight nudge of Roy’s head as Jason swallows, and then nods his head. “It just fit.”

“Yeah,” Jason breathes. The weight of his head lands on Roy’s hair, and the warmth of the action makes Roy sigh, teetering a little closer to sleep once more. But before he does, he hears Jason speak up again. “It— the weddin’ wasn’t some slight against you guys. We just… didn’t want some flashy event where everyone would be arguin’ and all the rest of that shit. We only needed the little group of our family. Roy and I, and Lian.”

“I know, Jay. I’m… I don’t like how I handled that. I didn’t— I didn’t even know you swung that way. It— I don’t— I miss being your dad. I miss you being my son. I miss when we weren’t so complicated and lost.”

“This… Look. You’re bad at this. You put the past in display cases and ignore all the memories that don’t fit your narrative. We fought, B. ‘Specially towards the end. Not to the same degree as you and Dick, but… it was there. I was a kid from the streets. We were always complicated…” Jason hesitates over the last part of what Bruce said, but eventually chooses to move on with, “It doesn’t excuse your actions.”

“Okay, Jason, okay.” The slight frantic edge wakes Roy up a little more, and he snaps his eyes open, sitting up a little in order to assess the situation. He clutches Lian to him, who has slept through all of this. 

He blinks at Bruce, who is still sitting where he was, Tim asleep and leaning on him, drooling onto his shirt. Twisting, he meets Jason’s eyes, and the man smiles before ruffling his hair. “Don’t worry, Roy, you can go back to sleep.” Crisis averted, Roy settles back against Jason, slipping again into the lingering exhaustion. 

The next time he rouses, it’s due to feeling a presence looming over him. With just enough wherewithal to recognise the particularly creepy sensation, Roy opens his eyes and finds Bruce leaning over them. He doesn’t take a swing at the man, so he can call it an improvement. 

In the limited light, he can only see the vague figure Bruce cuts, but the man is far more focused on Jason. 

Raking his fingers through Jason’s hair he whispers a quiet, “I love you.” It’s fragile, on frail wings that hover around the father and the son, normally unspoken and untouched. 

When Jason doesn’t react, Roy realises he’s asleep.

Bruce walks away, without another word. Roy tracks his shadow until he slips out of the large doors, and then he twists to get a good look at Jason. The man’s head is thrown back, clearly asleep, with an arm wrapped loosely around Roy’s waist and supporting Lian’s butt as she threatens to slide off Roy’s

Warm inside and out, Roy returns to slumber easily.

Chapter Text

Something collides harshly with Roy’s gut, and he snaps awake with an oof. The noise grabs the attention of the culprit, and Lian doesn’t even have the decency to appear guilty at the mistake before she declares, “It’s Christmas!”

Shushing her gently, Roy glances around the room. Several members of the family are still asleep, others missing. Steph and Cass have slipped away, along with Bruce, Damian, and Selina. Leaving only Dick, Tim, and Duke around. Duke waves a silent hand, scrolling on his phone from where he lays on the floor, a pillow propped under his chin. Roy smiles back, and he shifts his grip on his daughter. 

“Mornin’, love,” Jason mutters, and Roy twists to look at his partner. Grinning back, Jason leans forward and presses a kiss to Roy, who accepts it readily. 

“Daddy! You’re awake!” Lian exclaims. Both Roy and Jason hush her, smiling as they turn to her. “Sorry. But it’s Christmas.”

Duke snorts, shifting his grip on his phone to his other hand, and grabbing a stray pillow next to him. Without any preamble, Duke launches it sharply at Dick, who startles awake as it hits his face. He flails, which wakes Tim up from where he was leaning on him, and the two manage to wake up enough to send disorientated glares at their assailant. 

“It’s Christmas. The kid wants to get going,” Duke tells them, innocent. Dick shakes off the last grip sleep has on him, ruffling his own hair and wiping his eyes. “Neither of you even patrolled last night.”

Going from zero to eighty, Dick rolls to his feet in an overly complicated move, bouncing to his full height and clapping his hands. Tim jerks at the noise, but is clearly still incredibly out of it. “Merry Christmas, everyone!” Dick cheers. They all echo it with various levels of enthusiasm, Tim mumbling something that might be the expression.

“Merry Christmas Uncle Dick!” Lian shouts, slipping free of Roy and sprinting across the covers to meet the man. A small bit of panic hits Roy — he’d rather not start Christmas morning with tears if Lian trips — but Dick swoops forward easily and meets her halfway. She giggles as Dick throws her in the air, and when she lands in his arms again she squeals. Tim winces, but doesn’t react outside of slapping a palm to the ear closest to the two. 

“Are you excited for presents?!” Dick tells her, and Lian laughs as she nods her head rapidly. Roy is damn glad they decided to open Lian’s presents from her fathers here, because Dick is kind of setting his daughter up here. She is far too used to Queen Christmases, where everyone makes sure to shower her in gifts.

“Yes! Do we do them before or after we eat?” They always do them first thing in the morning, allowing Roy and Jason to wake up as Lian organises their presents into piles, something she takes great glee in doing. At the Queens, however, presents are opened after Christmas lunch. 

“Hm… Before of course!” Dick says. Jason leans closer to Roy, his breath warming the edge of Roy’s jaw beneath his ear. 

“Any extra time under the tree and about twelve surprises would be guessed,” He mutters, and Roy snorts. Fucking Bats. No secret is sacred, even when it’s innocent fun.

Lian wriggles free of Dick, and runs back over to her dads in order to pull on their hands. The action is ineffectual, but they hurry to comply in the face of her youthful excitement. Duke reawakes Tim, who wipes at his eyes and immediately slumps back onto the floor. Dick gets involved, then, and picks Tim up, slinging him over his shoulder like Santa’s sack. The poor kid is compliant, only giving a vague noise of dissatisfaction as his hair hangs off his head, towards the floor.

Once she is happy everyone is moving, she nudges them out of the room, herding them like a border collie with sheep. Dick has to subtly guide them, it’s clear Lian doesn’t know where she’s going outside of not here, but they do eventually arrive in the room they need to be in. 

Steph and Cass are collapsed on a couch, Steph on her back while Cass sips at a hot mug. The blond moves her legs, making room for Dick to dump Tim, who immediately melts into the soft surface. Under Cass on the floor sleeps Ace, Titus rests a large head on his side, slotted in between the German Shepherd’s spine and the sofa. 

Damian swipes through his phone, seated on the arm of the couch above Cass’s head, looking up to see the newcomers before returning to his task. Of course, Lian sees her Uncle and immediately abandons the group she shoved around to approach his side, much to Damian’s confusion. The kid seems so genuinely surprised that anyone would choose his company, and it melts Roy’s heart at the same time as making him feel like committing murder.

Not on Christmas, though.

Duke settles on another couch, Dick flopping in next to him. Roy takes in the room around them, realising it is a different one than where they played games yesterday. 

This one has an impressive tree, absolutely covered in various baubles and ornaments, with an even grander pile of presents beneath it. In between all the unfamiliar wrapping paper and objects, Roy spies a few of the ones they brought, which Alfred no doubt unpacked when he assigned himself the job of unloading their car. Another fireplace — surely, this many in one house is a fire hazard and a half — crackles with licking flames, basking the room in a warmth that is matched by both the festive cheer and happy family. 

Jason targets an armchair, on the end of the couch that Dick sits on, flopping into it and releasing the footrest. Ever the loving partner, Roy gives him exactly twelve seconds to enjoy the space before he drapes himself across his lap without an invitation, and Jason doesn’t even bother to act like he doesn’t enjoy such an act as he loops his arms around him.

With his always impeccable timing, Alfred appears, bearing a tray of mugs that roll the scent of coffee throughout the air. He sets it on the coffee table, and it is then that Roy does a double-take at the man.

Because Alfred, forever formal and demurely British Alfred, is wearing a suit that isn’t black. It’s a deep green, with a red tie and white undershirt. Rounding out the bizarrely festive outfit, are a pair of bobble-heads on a headband, little elves that bounce as Alfred sets about handing out mugs to all the people assembled. 

Tim takes his coffee without batting an eye, but given how sleepy he is it doesn’t exactly surprise Roy, and what really gets Roy confused is the fact that no one comments on the change. 

Sensing his thoughts, Jason explains quietly, “All of us are too scared that if we mention it, he’ll stop doin’ it.” Roy nods, before he accepts the mug Alfred gives him with a small thank you. Taking a sip, he is entirely unsurprised that the coffee is exactly how he takes it. If anyone in the family has straight up magic, other than Duke, it’s Alfred. 

“Can we open presents now?” Lian asks, and Jason laughs. She pouts when she’s gently told that she can’t, yet, but cheers up quickly when she learns that it’s because they’re waiting for Aunt Babara. 

She then gets distracted when Bruce emerges, obviously having passed Alfred when the man slipped out the room into the hall as he has a cup of his own coffee. At the sight of the excited girl in front of him, everyone watches with amusement as he visibly wakes himself up further in order to give her enough of his attention to follow what she’s saying. From what Roy can tell, with only one ear on his daughter, she’s talking about school. Bruce is looking at her as if she’s telling him the meaning of life.

Time passes with the family talking amongst themselves, several members waking up gradually as the combination of caffeine and company gives them energy. Tim looks less on death’s doorstep and more like he had pulled two all-nighters in a row, which is progress in the right direction. Jason participates in conversations more actively, while Dick somehow manages to be more wired with excitement. When Roy asks his partner why Alfred thought Dick needed more energy, Jason answers with the fact that Dick had only had hot chocolate. Because he has an insatiable sweet-tooth and unlike for Roy, where caffeine helps him focus, it makes Dick’s ADHD ass jittery and uncomfortable. 

“Babs is here!” Dick cheers, his phone dinging a moment before Bruce’s does. Roy would bet his entire bank account on Dick’s being due to a friendly text, while Bruce’s due to paranoid security measures. “I’m gonna go meet her,” Dick announces, leaping off the sofa without waiting for a response. 

“I swear he’s more excited than Lian,” Duke mutters in his sudden absence, rippling laughter throughout the group. 

When Dick returns with Barbara, pushing her wheelchair due to the fact that she is holding many presents on her lap, Bruce stands up to greet the Commissioner properly, doing that man-handshake-forearm-clasp that far too many men from that generation do. 

“Merry Christmas, Jim,” Bruce greets warmly. Gordon rolls his eyes, cuffing the man on the back of the head. 

“Merry Christmas. Can’t wait for another year of you lot causing me far too many issues,” He returns, Bruce laughing brightly, hunching his shoulders a little. “Hey, Tim, Steph, Cass, Duke, Damian, Selina and… Jason.”

“Sup, pig,” Jason grins, throwing up a peace-sign from behind Roy. Roy rolls his eyes, elbowing him in the ribs and being jostled by the wheeze of his breath. “Hello, Gordon,” Jason corrects.

“Ah, your better half. About time,” Gordon greets, waving to Roy. “Nice to meet you. I’m James Gordon.”

“Roy Harper,” Roy greets, before glancing around. “Our daughter, Lian, is…”

“Helping with the presents!” Dick calls from behind Gordon and Bruce. They both twist to look behind them, seeing Lian helping to unload Barbara’s lap from the wrapped objects. Lian looks up at hearing her name, and takes in the unexpected new presence. She places the gift she was holding under the tree, and approaches the tall man with curiosity. 

Gordon smiles, crouching on knees that click in protest to be at her eye-level. Lian watches the action, meeting his smile with one of her own. “Hello!”

“Hello, Lian. I’m Barbara’s dad," He says. Roy watches her compute this information, a slight crease in her eyebrows, before her face smoothes over in realisation. 

“I have three grandads!” Lian declares. There’s a moment of silence, before everyone bursts into laughter. Gordon looks as if he has aged three decades on the spot, while everyone on the sofas and armchair guffaw. Even Bruce, next to Gordon, is pressing a hand to his mouth in order to try and muffle his chuckles. Babs wipes a tear from her eye, Dick leaning on her for support. 

“No, I’m not— That’s— I’m not your grandpa kid,” Gordon refutes. “We aren’t related.”

“I’m not related to my dad. He’s still my dad. You’re Aunt Barb’s dad. That makes you my grandad.” Lian nods after this, satisfied in her logic, and Roy has to hand it to the kid. It does work out. Gordon himself seems to realise this, since he sighs and drags a hand down his face. 

Bruce, because apparently he hates fun, saves Gordon from the trap, distracting Lian by getting her to talk to Damian, who takes the role in this rescue that was shoved upon him with a glare at his father.

“She is a menace,” Gordon tells Roy and Jason. They both give back sharp shark grins, their answer every time they get told something like that, and Gordon sighs again, “Every time there is another addition to your family I lose another year of my life.”

“I’d imagine the smoking does it first, Commish,” Steph chirps. 

“Leave dad alone, guys, or he’ll run out the door even quicker than he was planning to,” Barbara interrupts, her lap and hands now free enough for her to wheel herself around. She parks next to Jason and Roy’s armchair, leaning on an elbow that she plants on her knee. 

Alfred reappears, and when he sees everyone aware and gathered, suggests that Lian and Damian should begin handing out the presents. The remaining people who have yet to be seated do so quickly, as Lian jumps up and drags a reluctant Damian with her. Lian does this every year, so she takes command and begins piling gifts at everyone’s feet, ordering Damian around who allows this. From what Roy knows of the boy, it goes to show just how much he has bonded with the girl that he is not saying anything and simply following her suggestions. 

Everyone ends up with an impressive haul, and Jason looks at his pile with an unreadable expression. Roy is surprised by the gifts he receives, given how almost none of the Bats knew he was coming beforehand. 

Lian ends up with the most out of everyone, but only by an extra few. She sits at her pile, casting surreptitious glances to her fathers, waiting to be told she can rip them open. Roy grins, catches her eye, and nods. She doesn't need to be told twice. 

Several of her gifts are ones that Jason and himself got her. She loves the children’s cookbook especially, extracting a promise from her dad to help her make every recipe inside it, which Jason agrees to easily. There’s several books, art supplies, and lego from the two of them as well, which she beams at. 

Steph lets out a delighted cackle, and Roy glances over to see her pull out the pyjama set from Jason. She immediately shows it to Tim, who rolls his eyes from where he holds a new set of camera lenses from someone. “Jason! I love you!” Steph calls, the man giving her a thumbs up from where he watches Lian open her gifts. 

The girl has gifts from Dick, Barbara, and Selina, which is expected as they were the only ones who knew she was coming today. Dick and Barbara got her some of their childhood books, while Selina got her a cat necklace, the charm being a cat mid-stretch. Lian immediately tries to put it on, and Damian stops from his own pile of gifts in order to help her with the clasp. Cass also got her something, which is less expected but given that she predicted Jason and Roy’s relationship is pretty fair, and Lian lets out an excited gasp at the pointe shoes. Cass promises to teach her. 

What is less expected is the gift from the rest of the family. Although, given Alfred knew they were coming, Roy suspects he worked his magic. It’s a set of Justice League Barbie dolls. Which, Roy didn’t even know existed, and several others who are gathered are similarly enamoured. 

“It’s Grandpa Ollie!” Lian squeals, when she sees the Green Arrow doll. They have all of the founding members, including Batman which is absolutely hilarious to Roy, and Damian leans over to squint at the figure. 

“The armour is… passable in accuracy,” Damian says, sounding confused himself. “Father, is this officially licensed?”

“I… I suppose it is,” Bruce answers. The man doesn’t have any gifts, Dick wanted to reveal it last in all his dramatics, but he seems far more excited to watch everyone open their gifts. 

With that, Lian begins examining her haul in greater detail, and Roy turns back to his own gifts. He opens the one from Dick, grinning at the Nightwing themed sweater, an old tradition between each other to give their own merch. Which he kind of dropped this year, but he’ll be sure to hunt down something good for next year. 

Cass gasps, examining the shiny keychain in her hands. She holds it up, letting the chain glint in the light, and sends a grateful smile to Jason and Roy. Then she runs a hand along the leg-warmers, and gives a giddy grin to Steph who watches her with joy. 

Tim on the same couch has also unwrapped the gift from the two of them, flicking each tool of the swiss-army knife out in order to examine them. Next to him on the other sofa is Duke, who is running his fingers along the puzzle box. He seems to know exactly what it is, explaining it to Dick who holds a small elephant plush from someone. 

“Aww,” Selina says, drawing attention and holding up the figurine. It’s a wood carving of a cat, loafing and content, that Roy actually remembers Jason finding on one of their rare international excursions. They try to limit them while Lian is under their roof, for a variety of reasons, but Jason had stopped mid-chase in order to examine a stall of these creations. A soft smile adorns her face, and she calls, “Thank you, kitten,” To Jason, who blushes and looks away.

Roy opens a few more gifts, finding a flashdrive from Barbara, who simply winks when Roy catches her eye, the book Jason picked out half-unwrapped on her lap. He finds a drawing from Damian, a beautiful sketch of Lian, bent over the art supplies that must have been drawn yesterday. It’s incredibly touching, but when Roy glances at the giver, he’s running his hands over the stack of alcohol markers with a reverence he doesn’t want to interrupt. Alfred has given him a box of tea, and while Roy has never gravitated towards the drink he has no doubt he’ll like this blend. Selina’s gift is a ring, featuring a small cat face with glimmering gems for eyes. The ring is vaguely familiar, although Roy can’t place where from.

Then Roy is attacked, swept up and into Dick’s arms before he even realises what is happening. He blinks, and then finds Jason tugged forward into the awkward hug as well. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Dick mutters, and Roy melts despite himself. Dick’s always loved photos, and when Jason had found the frames Roy had immediately known they were getting it for Dick, but he wasn’t quite expecting this dramatic of a reaction. It’s nice that Dick loves the gifts so much. 

Jason allows the position for another minute before he begins to try and struggle free. Dick lets them both go, going back to his presents and looking over the frames again. 

Roy nudges Jason with his elbow when the man looks back down to the gift he was unwrapping, pulling his attention over to where Alfred is running his hands over the restored book Jason got him. He looks misty-eyed, the odd sight confirmed by Jason’s smirk, and when he opens the pages to flick through them the butler blinks the gathering tears away quickly.

As the gift opening winds down, Roy examines the gifts Jason got, trying to match them to whoever gave them. There’s a box of hair-dye, with a homemade label that explains it’s charmed to last longer than the usual stuff Jason uses to dye the unnatural white in his hair when he needs to hide identifying marks. Roy touches it, feeling the familiar chill of Rachel’s magic, and realises it’s from Dick, along with the little red-bat pin. 

There’s a thriller book from Barbara, along with another sketch from Damian. This one shows Jason and Roy, both in their full-getup from their Rent-A-Bat days, in the middle of combat. The scene isn’t from any particular photo Roy remembers circulating at the time, which means that Damian was able to somehow draw this with accuracy using only reference photos. Kid is fucking talented.

Steph, Cass, Tim, and Duke all collaborated on a gift for Jay, the result one of Jason’s favoured bomber jackets, but with various patches and additions from the four. It’s such an eyesore it’s amazing, the careful colour palette keeping the piece actually looking cohesive. 

A new stand mixer from Alfred, which is great because Jason is refusing to let the one that is on its last legs at home retire in peace. At the top of the pile of unwrapped presents is Selina’s gift, a small throwing knife with a bird on the hilt. It leaves just Bruce’s gift for Jason, who unwraps it tentatively, as if he’s expecting to be jumped by whatever is in the box.

Under the wrapping paper, is a simple black box, classy and elegant. The shape is flat, and Roy has a sneaking suspicion of what is inside, although he doesn’t voice it as Jason slips the lid off. 

Inside, smoothed flat, is a tie, simple but clearly well-made. Underneath it, nestled into the foam, sits a pair of cufflinks, the shape of which strikes Roy instantly. They’re tyres, engraved and sculpted, and a reference to how Jason and Bruce met. This realisation flashes upon his partner’s face, and he closes the lid with a carefully neutral expression. Although, he does set it aside with care despite his shaking hands. 

Luckily, Dick springs up from the couch the next moment, walking past Gordon who is looking with dull dismay at the squeaky pig Jason got him with Barbara laughing at the sight, and approaches the tree. Dick slips in behind it, jingling the bells on the branches before he steps back out, holding something in his hands. It’s a rectangle, wider and longer than it is taller, and clearly wrapped with care. Silent, Dick returns, and everyone slowly drops into quiet as he approaches Bruce with a solemn face.

Clearly trying not to laugh, Bruce watches as the book is placed on his lap, glancing around at everyone’s waiting faces. He slowly drags a finger under the tape, dramatising the process of unwrapping it. Tim looks like he might just lunge at the man, and Steph has moved her legs to trap him deeper into the sofa. 

Eventually, Bruce’s own curiosity wins out, and he opens the present with a faster pace. The wrapping paper tears away, leaving a stack of two books, both thick and slightly warped under the weights of their pages. 

Curious, Bruce opens the front cover of the first one, and he stares at the page with open disbelief. Roy leans up and over the edge of the armchair, and sees the front page. Neat, curling cursive gives away who penned it, but Roy can’t make out the words enough to understand what it says. Whatever it is, it has Bruce quickly flipping to the next page, showing a photo of himself and Dick, years in the past, both far younger than they are today. They’re dressed for a fancy event, with Bruce showing Dick how to tie a tie. 

There’s more photos and small words that are likely captions, but Bruce flips to the next page too quickly. Roy gives up trying to decipher each of the pages — The number of them is far more than the number of people gathered here — and instead watches Bruce, something that is far more entertaining as the man swings from tears to laughing, his expressions far more open and genuine than Roy has ever seen.

Bruce doesn’t open the other book, yet, and instead glances up at Dick. “Thank you, chum,” He says, his voice thick. Dick jumps forward for a crushing hug, and Bruce sniffles a little into his shoulder. 

“Thank you all,” Bruce adds, glancing over his first son’s shoulder to all the occupants of the room. 

Lian sees the snow outside. Then she cannot even begin to settle for anything less than going out on the Manor grounds to play in it. Honestly, Roy can agree with the sentiment. Although he is the responsible adult so he gets her to put on some layers before Alfred lets them loose on the fresh white ground. 

It begins as just the three of them, but Damian slinks out as well, carrying a sketchpad. Lian doesn’t let her Uncle get away with not joining them in the cold snow, however, and drags him away from it to join her in making snow angels.

Cass joins at some point, making Roy jump and slip, sending him leaping onto Jason, who buckles in the snow. She giggles, the sound joined by Steph and Duke who are approaching from the Manor. Jason flips them all off with snow-covered hands, which only makes Steph laugh harder. 

Wriggling beneath him, Jason urges Roy to roll off him and leaps, tackling Steph. In a tangle of limbs, they both collapse on the ground, sending a cloud of snow over Duke, who groans. 

Blowing a breath that fogs into the air, Roy lies back on the snow, craning his neck in order to watch as his daughter talks Damian through how to make snow angels, the boy taking the instructions with intense focus. Then, Lian throws her arms back, flopping into the snow with an abandon that Damian is taken aback by. He follows her to the ground, but with much more hesitation. 

Huffing a laugh, Roy smiles at the scene, even upside-down. Crunching approaches his left, and Roy glances over to see Dick, bundled up in a blue scarf. Outstretched in front of him, like one would a wet, angry cat, is Tim, held beneath the armpits and spitting harsh swears behind him. 

Dick dumps the kid into the snow, face-first. Cass pulls him back immediately after, tugging his shoulders up and lifting his face from the cold ice. “F-fuck you, Dick,” Tim chatters, face red from both anger and the sting of the snow. Cass brushes snowflakes from his cheeks with gloved hands, flicking the melted drops away. Roy snorts, and receives a vicious look in response. “You too, Roy.”

“The fuck did I do?” Roy asks, sitting up. There’s a yelp, and he glances over to see Jason slam Duke into the snow, Steph cackling as she wraps her arms around his throat in a chokehold. He turns back to Tim, shrugging his shoulders.

“Laughing at an assault. A kidnapping!” Tim grouses, shaking his hair in an attempt to rid it of the impromptu frosted tips. “Ugh.”

“Heads up!” Steph shouts, right before she is thrown into Tim’s face, sending him flopping back onto the ground. Cass sidesteps the commotion with ease. The blond giggles, pressing a palm to her forehead as she lies on Tim’s chest. “Jason, that was awesome!” 

Tim flails beneath her, tapping her on the arm until she gets the message and crawls off him. He gasps, sucking in air, and gets wacked on the shoulder by the blond. “I’m not that heavy,” Steph says, which of course makes Tim start gasping far more dramatically, clawing at his throat and chest. 

“Ribs… broken…” Tim pants. Dick laughs brightly, sitting down next to Roy. “I see… the light…” He breaks character, snickering as Steph scoops an armful of snow into her arms and drops it on Tim’s head. 

“Asshole!” She shouts, flipping off the mound of snow. “Don’t call me fat!”

“Who’s calling you fat?” Barbara asks, thickened wheels spinning over the snow. Tim pales dramatically, while Steph only grins with vicious glee. 

“Tim!” She cries, pointing to the kid. Hands fly up, and Tim begins stumbling over himself in an attempt to explain himself. Once he gets going, he doesn’t stop, only digging himself a bigger hole that his sisters watch occur with glee.

Eventually, Dick takes pity on him, scooping a loose hand of snow and throwing it at Tim to get him to stop. “Leave him alone, guys, it’s Christmas.” 

“What about Christmas?” All of them turn towards the Manor, finding Bruce and Selina having joined them out in the snow, bundled up but smiling warmly. The air in front of Bruce’s face fogs before he continues with, “Where are Dami and Lian?”

“Grandpa Bruce!” Lian calls, summoned. Bruce gets exactly two seconds of warning before a blur of a child is colliding with him, leaping into his chest. Luckily, Bruce has had plenty of practice with such actions, and he catches her easily. Shifting his grip he hangs her upside down by her ankle. Trudging through the snow with a scowl, Damian joins them as Lian bursts into giggles. “We made snow angels!” She chirps.

Straightening her upright in his arms, Bruce smiles, listening to her very detailed recount of creating the figures in the snow. 

Roy glances back over to Jason, who has abandoned the fight with Duke in favour of panting on his back, joined by his opponent. Jason feels his gaze, looking over and meeting him. His eyes burn with laughter, love, and Roy lets the sappy, lopsided grin take over his face at the sight. Dick then nudges him, pointing to Damian who is watching Bruce talk. His hair is caked in snow still, which Selina takes as an opportunity to ruffle free. This is allowed for an extra beat longer than it normally would before the kid ducks away. 

Sharp, heavy cold collides with the back of Roy’s head, sending his neck snapping forward before he twists around to look behind him. Jason purposefully doesn’t meet his eye, and Roy remembers the snowball fight they’d had during their last week before coming to Gotham. Which, clearly Jason doesn’t, because he’s picking fights he can’t win.

“It is on,” Roy growls. Only now does his husband seem to regain some sense of self preservation, as his eyes double in size and he scrambles to his feet — forgetting all of his previous exhaustion. Fluidly twisting himself properly to face the man, Roy forms a snowball and aims, testing the weight in his palm.

He fires, connecting with Jason’s ear. “Fuck!” Jason shouts, a tremor going through his body at the feeling. Cackling, Roy readies another snowball, but Jason gets there quicker and he has to duck out of the path of a flying one. It collides with something, and he glances behind him to see Tim, narrowing his eyes at Roy. 

Now, Roy is loyal to a fault, and to his partner is no exception.

He immediately points behind him, ratting out that it was the kid’s brother. 

That sets off a chain reaction, where Tim tries to fire back at Jason, who uses Cass as a human shield, which draws in Steph to protect her honour, only to miss and hit Duke instead. Dick joins the chaos because of course he does, and he is smart enough to enlist Barbara to his cause, although that doesn’t last wrong when she backstabs him with glee, setting Roy, Cass, and Duke on him with a barrage of snowballs.

Damian jumps in, helping Dick escape the assault, and Selina takes sneaky shots when no one is looking, although Roy can’t prove that she is. 

Someone — Roy has no clue who and he doubts anyone else does with how many are flying through the air — fires a snowball wrong, and it hits Bruce.

The snow cracks, pillowing and slipping off the man’s shoulders. The entire fight grinds to a halt, everyone staring at the man as he doesn’t react. Lian stares at him from where she still sits in his arms. 

Laughter interrupts the sudden silence, the noise rolling with youth and pure joy, and Bruce gives a soft expression to the girl. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, although before the war can start up again, Bruce whispers something into Lian’s ear. Roy loves his daughter, but he knows she would sell him out in a heartbeat for a chocolate chip cookie, so he watches the exchange with a heavy amount of suspicion. 

Lian nods. Bruce sets her on the ground. Oh, fuck. 

Bruce packs a snowball while he’s crouched, straightening with the impressive projectile resting on his palm. Flicking his gaze to Dick where the man is crouched next to him, Roy only sees a calculating, savage look on his face. Similar expressions are on the few other members Roy can see clearly, faces feral and promising ruthless attacks.

“Well?” Bruce prompts, the single word cracking through the air like the bullet at the beginning of a race. The tension snaps, and the Bats descend like a pack of rabid dogs. 

Roy joins them.

Alfred interrupts them with a call for lunch, the war resolved with the promise of food. Lian and Babs had gravitated away from the skirmish, the latter helping Lian try her hand at making a snowman. 

The snowball fight had been an elaborate web of alliances, betrayals, and shouts, but it is all quickly forgotten in the face of such a unifying force of the universe.

So they gather around to eat, Alfred joining them at the table. They gorge on roast turkey, ham, and lamb. Lian eats nearly a whole bowl of pasta salad on her own. Then Jason's baking is shared out for dessert, something that is such a hit everyone thinks it's Alfred's work.

Tim stares at Jason as if he has grown a second head when that reveal occurs. Which adds to Jason's red face as he slumps a little further in his seat. Dick only grins, ruffling his brother's hair on his way back with a plate filled with seconds, proclaiming that Jay had always enjoyed baking and cooking. Roy watches the flush travel up to Jason's ears with fond amusement. Somehow, his partner didn't expect the extras they brought with them to be eaten while they were there. 

Fucking Bats, so intelligent until it comes to emotions.

Gordon leaves, after the lunch, kissing his daughter on the forehead and escaping with only a few containers of leftovers pressed into his arms by Alfred. 

Dick then drags out a wide selection of board games, placing them on the coffee table of the living area they opened their presents in. He pulls out Monopoly, the sight of which sends shark-grins erupting on several Bats' faces. 

Buzzing starts up on Roy's thigh, and he slips his phone out of his pocket to check it. Dinah is calling…

He’d sent the Merry Christmas! message to the group chat earlier that day, attaching a photo of Lian and Damian drawing that Dick had managed to take yesterday. Ollie had then insisted on more photos throughout the day in order to scope out the grandpa competition, which Roy has been complying with. Still, the call brings a smile to his face, as he accepts the call and holds the phone in front of him. 

“Lian!” He calls to where she's helping Babs be the banker. “Grandpa and Grandma are calling!” Cheering, Lian wastes no time in joining him as the call connects. 

“Merry Christmas!” Ollie and Dinah chirp at the full screen, the greeting echoed by Lian, Roy, and Jason who has leant over from his hand. “How are you guys?” Dinah asks.

“We're good! Christmas with Jaybird's family is going well,” Roy answers. Ollie tilts the camera until he's just offscreen and then scoffs in derision. “We can all hear you, Ollie,” Roy sighs. “You’re on speaker, by the way.”

“Hi, Grandpa Ollie! Hi, Grandma Dinah!” Lian says. Both of them soften when Roy points the camera to focus on her. 

“Hey, Lian. Are you having a good Christmas?” Ollie asks. Liam hums a yes, nodding her head. 

“Dad’s family is so cool. I have, like, twenty aunts and uncles. And I have another grandad and grandma! And a Grandestfather!” Lian lists. She lets out a small oh, before adding, “Uncle Damian is so good at drawing. And we watched movies, and opened presents, and went outside in the snow, and ate so much food as well as Jay’s baking! He let me help this year!”

“That sounds amazing, Lian!” Dinah responds, echoing her excitement. “What are you guys doing now?”

“We’re playing Momopoly!”

“Monopoly, Princess,” Roy corrects lightly. Lian frowns, mouthing the word to herself. “Lian’s on my team,” he adds. 

“You better be winning, Roy!” Ollie ribs. “Show them what us Queen’s are made of!” Roy glances at his dwindling money and winces. It’s not his fault he’s up against two CEO’s of one of the biggest companies in the world, a woman who has built a network of hero and vigilante processing all behind a screen, a man who made it his entire mission to root out the corruption in Blüdhaven before he was even twenty, and his partner who literally ran a criminal empire that gave him a vice-grip on Gotham’s underbelly. He’s outlasted Steph, Cass, and Damian, thanks to a combination of his own prowess and lucky dice rolls. Duke is still hanging on, but he’s in an even more precocious position than he is, so odds are he’ll beat him out. 

“Sure I am,” Roy responds. Lian laughs in his lap. 

Dinah rolls her eyes. “Don’t mind him, Roy. So long as you guys are having fun.” Jason grins, and Roy tilts the camera his way. 

“I’m having’ fun knocking Roy’s ego down a peg,” He says. Slapping him, Roy tilts the camera away. 

“Try wiring some of my trick arrows and we’ll see who’s ego suffers,” Roy accuses. Jason’s pretty passable in engineering, but they both know Roy leaves him in the dust anyday. Even Barbara and Tim, who are exceptional with software, couldn’t keep up with Roy when it comes to hardware. 

“The answer is mine. I couldn’t even begin to keep up with all the different ones you were making when you were Speedy,” Ollie grumbles. Roy cackles. He’d tried everything short of colour-coding them to get the man to be able to always find the right arrow. Eventually, Ollie had adjusted to the varying looks, weights, lengths, and order of them within his quiver. Luckily so, for everyone involved.

Several of his designs are integral to not only the Arrow branch of the super community, but the wider area as well, though. Which leaves Roy a little smug at the end of the day. 

“That’s like asking a freshman to do advanced calculus,” Jason refutes. Roy snickers, kissing him on the cheek. “Roy is gettin’ destroyed in Monopoly.”

“Oh dear. Is everyone there?” Dinah asks. Lian sits up, stretching to see herself in frame. 

“Yeah! It’s dad’s turn, but you guys called. We’re at the table.” Lian gestures to the table, but the two on the call can’t see it with it being off screen. Roy isn’t going to show them, though, because keeping his incoming defeat without a clear sight for Ollie sounds nice right now.

Dinah grins, calling out, “Hello everyone!” The greeting is echoed by everyone around them, and Roy flips the screen to scan the camera across the group. “Hey, Bruce,” She adds when the camera rests on the man, which gets Ollie’s attention immediately. He makes a noise of interest, which buzzes through the speaker of the device.

“Hello, Dinah, I hope your holidays have been well,” Bruce returns, pleasantly, although his eyes narrow after. “Queen.”

“Brucie,” Ollie returns with a slight snarl. “Finally caught up about what your son has been up to? Honestly, that’s like, three Christmases spent with us?” 

“Oliver—“ Bruce growls.

“Alright! It was great to talk to you guys, Merry Christmas, we’re going now,” Roy interrupts before this can become a fucked up pissing match between the two men. He is not dealing with that on Christmas of all days. He jams the red button, hanging up the call. 

Silence hangs awkwardly over the room for a beat. Then Jason clears his throat and rolls the dice, moving his car the correct amount of spaces.

Jason sits on the roof, a cigarette between his fingers, his head tilted to the Gotham sky above. Roy sighs, the noise drawing his partner’s attention and bringing a bright green eye open to focus on him. Huffing a small laugh, Jason takes another drag, billowing the smoke out above him.

“Are you going to help me up?” Roy asks, stretching up a hand. Jay considers him, reaching over to clasp his hand with a chuckle when he receives an eye roll for the action. Curling his arm, Roy jumps from the windowsill he was perched on, hoisting himself up as Jason tugs him. He lands his torso next to the man, swinging his legs up as he twists to bring his ass up, ending up sitting next to him. Taking a deep breath, Roy glances at the dark ground below them. 

Smoke twirls in the air from Jason’s lit cigarette, mingling with the gentle quiet between them. Tension slowly ebbs from the line of his shoulders, his body leaning towards the warmth and comfort of Roy next to him, coming to rest his head on Roy’s shoulder. 

While he’s relaxed, Roy takes the opportunity to steal the cigarette. He takes a drag himself, before snubbing it on the roof tile, the embers blinking out with a tiny hiss. Blowing it out, he lets Jason just exist next to him. He doesn’t ask about what exactly prompted the rooftop hideaway, or the cigarette lighting when he hasn’t been using them as often, or even what thoughts he is clearly turning over in his mind. 

It’s simply a moment of pause. Then Jason mutters, “It’s a lot.”

Roy hums, prompt and understanding in one.

“Sometimes I look at B an’ all I can remember is my own blood drippin’ from my neck,” Jason admits, something like shame in his voice. Roy moves an arm to curl around Jason’s other shoulder, squeezing him closer. They’re both in jackets, but the chill of the air still makes them cuddling up necessary to keep warm. He wants to tell him he has nothing to be ashamed of, but that isn’t what Jason needs right now. What he needs is to be heard. Uninterrupted. So, Roy will give him that. “I look at Babs in that wheelchair and I can only think about the laughter.

“I hear Dick shout over fuckin’ Uno and all I hear is him screamin’ at B. Damian’s eyes—“ Jason shivers. Roy presses into him more, even though he knows it isn’t due to the cold. “Ra’s has the same eyes. Talia, too. I look at them, all of them, and only see the fucked shit I’ve been through.”

Scrubbing at his eyes, Jason trails off, giving a frustrated breath at his own tears. Rubbing his thumb against him, Roy remains silent. 

“But then Tim’ll say somethin’ snarky, and Dick’ll touch me so fuckin’ casually, and B will do somethin’ that shows he actually cares. And—“ 

“And you remember why you love them. Why you still keep trying,” Roy finishes when Jason seems to fumble for the words.

“I want… I never thought I’d get this. Even before dyin’. It just never seemed in the cards. And I was fine with that! I had a fuckin’ roof over my head and a father who wasn’t high all the time or beatin’ on me. I see these glimpses of the really, really good and the downright shitty and it’s terrifyin’.”

“It’s shitty,” Roy agrees. “I know.”

“Do you, though?” Jason snaps, shrugging away Roy’s arm. “Ollie’s so much fuckin’ better. You can trust him to look after Lian when we’re outta town and not have to worry that he’ll lose his shit on her. You can laugh with him without chokin’ on fuckin’ sand. You can get a fuckin’ apology!” Jason almost shouts the last two words. Roy winces, recoiling despite himself, and waits as Jay’s harsh breaths fog the air between them.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” Jason mutters eventually. “It’s just— I’m just a fuckin’ mess.”

“That… yeah, that hurt a bit Jaybird. Ollie and I have had a long fucking road to get to where we are. Just because it was different from yours doesn’t mean you get to say shit like that, you hear me?” Roy waits for Jason to nod back before continuing. “Ollie still has his moments, like the phone call earlier, but he has improved. Grown. Like I have. Like you have. I’m not gonna tell you eventually won’t ever have those moments where you can’t think around the past, or your mistakes, or anything like that. I still haven’t gotten there. Anytime I see a needle I panic that it’s got shit in it, or sometimes when Ollie raises his hand I am back to when he found out about the addiction.

“But you got to learn to forgive, Jay. Not forget, because that’s how you get abused over and over, but to let go. So many people, they think forgiveness is only for the other’s benefit, but it isn’t. Anger is a slow poison that hurts you far more than it hurts anyone else. You gotta figure out how to let go if you want your family still in your life. In our lives. But you also gotta figure out how to forgive yourself.”

“The fuck do I have to forgive myself?” Jason asks. He sounds so genuinely bewildered that Roy snorts around the ache in his chest. God, Jay can sound so young when they talk about this shit.

“You were a kid, Jay. You died a kid and you came back a kid, and the whole time people saw you were so competent and viewed you as an adult. Being an adult is more than looking the part, Jaybird. It’s the experience, the learning, the time.” Roy turns Jason’s face with a gentle grip on his chin, cupping his cheeks and flicking away the dripping tears. “You didn’t get that. Never knew what it was like to fall and trust completely in an adult to catch you. To not have to do the calculations or worry or figure shit out because there was someone there to do it for you.”

“I don’t— I can’t— I don’t want Lian to have this. To experience the fuckin’ horrible shit this family can do to each other. But she’s so happy when they’re good. How can I deny her that? Should I stop it? Keep her from gettin’ hurt by the people she’s supposed to rely on? Is it selfish or delusional of me to think that maybe it’ll be different? That this time they’ve changed?”

Roy accepts the slight topic change, dropping the previous subject. It’s the first time they’ve talked about that, so Jason needs to digest it for a while. “Giving her more family isn’t selfish, Jason. It isn’t delusional to hope that they’ve improved, either. Showing her that she can love people despite their faults, and they’ll love her back in return is good. Even when it blows up in our — and her — face.

“But she doesn’t only have them, Jason. Not like you did, until Kori and I came along. She has us, she has Ollie and the others, she’ll have friends and peers both outside and inside the mask if she chooses to take it up when she’s an adult. And you can yell at your family all you want because you’re just protecting your daughter,” Roy adds, drawing a snotty laugh from Jason. Roy’s own face is wet with tears, but he blinks them away in order to stare at Jason properly. 

“She’ll get to be a kid, Jay. We’re making sure of it. She’s not touching anything heavier than a sports-grade compound bow until she’s old enough to have sex.” The aside makes them both laugh. “She’s got us. We’ve got each other. We’ll be okay. It takes time, but we have all the time in the world.”

Closing his eyes, Jason pushes his head past Roy’s hands and rests his forehead against his partner’s. Roy takes it, watching as the frown on Jason’s eyes deepens and trembles, full sobs breaking out of Jason’s mouth as he crumples.

Roy catches him, he has for years and he has no intentions to stop anytime soon. He holds Jason, as he shakes with cries and gasps and tears. They don’t say anything else. No words can mend the wounds or take back the tolls of time. Nothing can fix it, other than more time, more healing. Jason cries, far more openly than he usually does, and Roy rubs a hand through his hair where he lays his head on his chest. Tears drop into the curling locks, as Roy cries too. He cries for the boys they once were, for who they could have been without the capes and the heroes who were too flawed to be anything more than men in masks, for who they are now. He cries for Lian, for the fear that he carries that he’ll mess up raising her, or that one night he won’t come home, for the time he feels moving when he wants nothing more than to exist in the moments of joy forever. 

Their tears fall, louder than any noise either of them could make in that moment of fragile vulnerability. They drip, and fall, and slide across skin, and shake through shoulders. On and on.

And then they dry. They ease and falter and ebb away with stuttering breaths. Jason lifts his head, eyes red and cheeks raw, and meets Roy’s gaze. They likely both look ugly as fuck, snot dripping down their noses and the skin of their faces irritated, but Roy feels a pang of fondness roll through him. He catches Jason in a kiss. 

It’s salty and dry and a little slimy, but it’s real and loving all the same. Promise and truth and vow in one. 

They pull away, resting their foreheads against each other once more, and breathe. Clouds of their breaths puff into the space between them, bubbling together before being eaten up by the cold air. Jason’s breath still hitches every fifth time, but he doesn’t teeter on the edge of tears anymore.

“I am sorry. About before. That was shitty of me to say, and completely untrue,” Jason mutters, pulling back in order to look Roy in the eye without going cross-eyed. 

Smiling a little, Roy meets his gaze readily. Letting him see that it is already forgiven, that even when Jason gets defensive and tries to push him away, even when his doing so hurts, he’ll still be here. He’s never been the type to let go quickly, anyway. It’s something they both share. “I know,” Roy says. It’s enough.

After another beat where the only noise is their lungs, Roy claps his hands, brushing them off against each other. “Right!” He declares, shoving lightly at Jason’s shoulder before leaning back to stretch out his back. “I think it’s time we get Lian to bed. She was flagging when I went looking for you, even with her stubborn attempts to stay awake with her aunts and uncles.” Roy lets out a pleased groan as his shoulder clicks, shaking himself out as he looks back to Jason, who hasn’t said anything.

In the limited light, Roy can see a dopey grin on his partner’s face, and he rolls his eyes as he shoves his palm in the man’s face. Leaning away, Jason laughs brightly, keeping his forearm up to block his face. 

Planting his hands, Roy slides himself down off the side of the roof, waving a foot out beneath him in order to determine where the windowsill lies. He catches a toe on it, and lowers himself down and through the open glass. 

Followed by Jason, Roy straightens, removing and shaking out the coat he’d chucked on in a hurry. Jason does the same, folding his over his arm and grabbing Roy’s off him. 

“Where’s our daughter?” Jason asks. 

“Uh… in the house,” Roy responds, grinning when Jason deadpans at him. “With Cass, last I saw.”

“Let’s go get her. I’m ready to sleep for a fuckin’ week,” Jason declares, setting off for the hallway. Roy laughs, catching up and looping his hand through his husband’s elbow.

“Daddy! We still haven’t done your gifts!” Lian tells them, frowning seriously as if that fact has deeply offended her. Roy huffs a small laugh. It’d taken an hour for them to get Lian both ready and calm enough to go to sleep.

“You’re right, munchkin,” Jason tells her. “That’s why we’re doing ‘em now.” Lian cheers, and when Jason gestures to the guest bed Roy and him are sleeping in, she takes a running leap to flop onto the covers. Roy digs into the suitcase they stuffed their clothes into, digging into his side and pulling out the rectangle of Jason’s gift. 

Jason pulls out a small square, and they both sit on the bed, facing each other with Lian cross-legged next to them both. There’s a pause as they both wonder who should go first. 

“Roy should go first!” Lian chirps, pointing to the man. They both chuckle, and Roy hands his partner his gift. He feels a spark of nervousness as Jason inspects the wrapping, looking for a seam to rip into. Which is fucking stupid, he knows Jason, knows he will enjoy the gift, but it’s something handmade, which is always nearer to Roy’s heart than anything bought from the store. 

As the paper rips, Roy watches Jason’s eyes. They widen at the sight of the book within the wrapping, then twitch a little at the corners into a tiny frown. He flicks his gaze up to Roy, a silent question in them. Roy only smiles, tight-lipped, back. 

Pulling the book properly free, Jason runs his hands across the cover, feeling the title Pride and Prejudice, with a curious air. The gears in Jason’s Bat-brain are turning visibly, likely because he knows that Roy knows that Jason has a copy of the book. Several. It’s his comfort book, maybe even his favourite but Jason, like many bookworms, refuses to crown any particular book as his firm favourite. So the question of why this gift rings through his thoughts loud enough for Roy and even Lian to pick up on it.

Slapping a palm to her mouth, Lian is positively giddy with excitement, she had a great hand in both of their gifts and it’s showing in her having to restrain herself from spoiling it. 

Raising an eyebrow at her antics, Jason runs his thumb along the pages, flicking through them only to stop almost immediately. His jaw drops open as he opens the page wider, seeing the writing crammed into the edges. All the notes are handwritten, in two different colours, red and pink. Gaze flickering as he skimm reads, Jason swallows thickly, tears gathering at the rims of his eyes. 

He closes the thick — thicker than normal due to the fact that the printed words are larger than what is typical — book, and opens the front cover. On the back, there’s a small message written. Jason mouths the words as he reads them. 

To Jaybird, 

For the sleepless nights and slow mornings. You can always have our commentary with you. 

With love, lots of it, 

Red and Munchkin xx

“Dad read it to me whenever you were out of the house,” Lian pipes up, grinning when Jason turns his teary gaze to her. “He had to record our voices so he could go back and write the words. You saved it, right, dad?” Lian directs the last part to Roy, who nods. “He said he’d give it to you, too.”

Jason moves his head to stare at Roy, expression slack with shock and surprise. Roy grins, sheepishly, and that seems to break the dam within Jason. Tears roll down his cheeks, and when Lian makes a vague noise, he throws the crook of his elbow over his face. 

“Dad, those are happy tears, right?” Lian asks, looking back to Roy for reassurance. 

Chuckling, Roy nods. “Yes, they’re happy tears. Jay, show your daughter you don’t hate the gift,” he teases, but he’s still a little relieved when Jason lets his arm fall away to show a quivering smile. Lian crawls closer, collapsing on Jason’s lap and hugging him tight, which Jason returns. 

Roy gently slides the book out from under Lian, placing it aside before he shuffles over to join the hug pile. Jason includes him easily and quickly, tugging them both close and whispering a few thank you’s and I love you’s. 

When Jason breathes a full breath that doesn’t bring tears back, Lian wriggles free, bouncing on the bed a little. “Dad, dad, you next!” She begs, and Jason wipes the last of his tears with a snicker. Roy leans out, allowing Jason to take the small square he’d placed next to him.

Handing it over, Jason blushes a little, which only makes Roy grin. The square is thin, with a thicker bulk at one half than the other. None of this allows him to deduce whatever it is, and so he picks away the tape on one of the wrapped edges. 

Ripping it open, Roy feels something heavy drop on his leg, and he discards the blank cardboard in favour of investigating. 

Closing his grip around it, he pulls it up, feeling the links of the chain and dropping it to hang from his palm. The necklace swings slightly, and he reaches his other hand up to still the head of the pendant. It’s a small gold heart, and when Roy takes it in his fingers to examine it further, he realises there is a seam running along the side. 

He opens the clasp, opening the locket and revealing the photo within. It’s a photo from their wedding day, the three of them crammed into the same side of the cafe booth. Lian has whipped cream on her nose from her milkshake, grin bright and eyes sparkling with laughter and the afternoon sun. Jason smiles wide next to her, crooked and true, a hand in her hair. Roy leans over her to kiss Jason’s cheek, pushing them all close enough to fit in the camera frame. Jason, with his other hand, holds up his ring finger, fresh wedding band visible and glinting. 

Roy blinks the tears, letting them roll down his cheek as he checks the other half of the locket, finding a small inscription inside. 

We have time,

And plenty of love.

Love, Red and Princess.

“The chain is super strong!” Lian explains, chattering as Roy runs his fingers across the smooth metal. “Dad called it a funny word I can’t remember, but it means that it is really hard to break. I chose the picture with him too.”

Nodding along, Roy takes a deep breath, holds it, and then releases it. 

“I also told him to put our nicknames on there. So you guys match!” She adds. Jason’s eyes widen in realisation, and he grabs her by the middle, pulling her into his lap.

“You little schemer!” He hisses lightly, sending the girl into a fit of giggles. He tickles her ribs, only increasing the laughter. “What are we gonna do with you, huh?” He demands playfully. Roy places the locket on top of the book. 

Grabbing Lian by the foot, Roy slides her gently out of Jason’s grip, the man letting her go easily. When she’s in his lap, Roy wraps his arms around her, pressing his nose into her hair. After a beat, he looks up to Jason, smiling. “What we are doing with her tonight, is going to sleep.” 

None of them move to do so, though, as Lian begins talking about her favourite parts of the book, and the conversation spirals into a longer endeavour than it should be this late in the night.

But it’s okay. They have time.