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Chapter Text

The crash of bodies on mats echoed through the cavernous sparring room. Artemis hissed as she rolled onto her side, disarmed for the fourth time in ten minutes. Kaldur was flat on his back, breath driven out of him by a brutal sweep. Conner sat against the wall, rubbing his jaw where Robin had used his momentum against him.

Only one of them wasn’t panting.

Robin crouched in the center of the room, hands on his knees, domino mask reflecting the overhead lights. His chest rose and fell steadily—calm, almost bored.

“Stop.”

Black Canary’s voice cut like a blade. The team froze, relief in their eyes.

She stalked forward, glaring at the mess before her. “Pathetic. You’re all leaning on powers, weapons, and tricks. The second those are gone, so are you.”

Artemis scowled. “Without my bow, what do you expect me to—”

Canary’s tone sharpened. “I expect you to adapt. Every one of you. Otherwise, you’ll be corpses on a battlefield before you’re old enough to shave.” Her eyes flicked toward Robin. “Robin. They’re yours.”

Robin straightened, a grin twitching at his lips. “Ohhh, this’ll be fun.”

They were now at the mercy of the little bat

...

It wasn’t fun for anyone else.

Robin dismantled them like it was second nature. Wally lunged—he sidestepped and tripped him flat. Artemis swung—he twisted her wrist, bow gone, her body slammed into the mat. Kaldur tried a disciplined stance—Robin picked it apart in seconds. Even Conner, charging like a bulldozer, ended up pinned under a scrawny elbow at his throat.

Robin didn’t fight like a kid. He fought like someone who had seen every move before it happened.

And even when he was hit he brushed it off almost instantly like he hadn't flew into a wall because of a kryptonians fist.

By the end, the others were sprawled and sweating. Robin was still on his feet, pulling his gloves tighter, not even breathing hard.

“Lesson one,” he chirped. “Never assume you’ll keep your fancy toys or powers. Lesson two, dont shout out your moves before you do them, thats like common sense. Lesson three…” He smirked. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Later, when Canary dismissed them, the team gathered in the corner, bruised and humiliated. Robin leaned against the wall, fiddling with his belt like nothing happened.

That’s when the questions started.

“Okay,” Wally said, jabbing a finger at him. “No. Nope. You don’t just do that. What the hell was that? You’re… immune to pain or something?”

Robin shrugged. “Not immune. Conditioned.”

“Conditioned?” Artemis repeated sharply. “You didn’t even blink when Conner threw you into the wall!”

“Walls hurt less than you think if you hit them right.” Robin grinned, but his eyes slid away.

Kaldur’s voice was low, calm but pressing. “Robin, I watched you resist moves that should have stunned you. Even poisons. That is… not ordinary training.”

Robin’s smirk wavered. “…Batman’s big on preparing for the worst. Fear gas, knockout darts, truth serum. I’ve been through most of it by now. My body adjusts.”

M’gann gasped. “They… they actually put you through that? On purpose?”

Robin tilted his head. “Would you rather I collapsed the first time a rogue used it in the field?”

Artemis’s eyes narrowed. “That’s messed up. He’s your—what—even your guardian? And he lets you get pumped full of nightmare juice?”

Robin’s grin vanished, his tone sharpening. “Batman doesn’t let me. He trains me. There’s a difference. He makes damn sure I come out alive. Always.”

The conviction in his voice stopped them for a second. But not long.

“Still doesn’t make sense,” Wally muttered. “You’re fourteen. You fight like you’ve been at this for decades. That’s not just training. That’s—insane.”

Robin’s gloved fingers clenched around his belt buckle. “…I started early. Earlier than most. That’s all.”

“Robin,” Kaldur pressed, stepping closer. “When we faced you just now, it was as though we were fighting someone who has spent years living in combat. That is more than drills. That is experience.”

For the first time, Robin flinched. The mask hid his eyes, but his mouth tightened.

“Batman raised me to survive,” he said finally, voice quieter. “He’s not perfect, but he’s not cruel. Every scar I’ve got? I earned it fighting criminals who don’t care how old I am. If you think Gotham waits until you’re ‘ready,’ you’re wrong. Batman made sure I’d never be a victim again.”

The room went still.

Conner broke it. “You sound proud of that.”

Robin’s laugh was sharp, humorless. “Proud? No. It’s just reality. You don’t last in this life if you don’t adapt. That’s what I’m trying to teach you.”

The team exchanged glances—unsettled, uneasy. Because he wasn’t wrong. But hearing it from a fourteen-year-old, so casual about poisons and scars, made their stomachs twist.

For the first time, they weren’t just staring at Gotham’s boy wonder.
They were staring at a kid carrying years of battles no kid should’ve fought.

And none of them knew what to say.

Chapter Text

The next round was worse. Kaldur tried to adapt, forming water constructs with subtlety instead of overwhelming force, but Robin slipped past them like smoke, pressing two fingers into a pressure point on Kaldur’s wrist. The Atlantean gasped, his entire arm going numb.

“Lesson one,” Robin said, low and clipped. “Every power has a weak point. Find it.”

Before anyone could react, he pivoted on one heel, sweeping Wally’s legs from under him. The speedster hit the mat with a graceless yelp.

“Lesson two. Don’t assume you’re faster than your enemy. Someone out there is always faster.”

Artemis launched at him, frustration painted across her face. Robin sidestepped, let her arrow miss, then in one blur of motion disarmed her, flipped the bow, and pressed it gently against her sternum.

“Lesson three.” His voice dropped. “If you think distance keeps you safe, you’re already dead.”

The silence afterward was deafening.

Training ended with most of the team sweaty, sore, and simmering. Robin barely looked winded.

“That,” he announced, tossing the bow back to Artemis, “is why I’m in charge when Batman’s not here.”

“You mean when Batman is here,” Wally muttered under his breath.

Robin shot him a look, but it was more of a plea than a glare. Wally shut his mouth.

M’gann rubbed her temples. “How do you even know all that? The pressure points, the counters, the… everything?”

Robin’s grin snapped back into place, though it was thin, tired. “Trade secret. Bat-brand training program. You want the manual? Talk to HR.”

“Not funny,” Artemis bit out.

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

She frowned at him, but before she could say more, Kaldur stepped forward. “Robin, your methods are effective. But they are… extreme. I have trained for years under Atlantis’ finest warriors, yet some of your techniques are unfamiliar even to me. How is that possible?”

Robin shrugged, flipping the staff against his palm like the question was too boring to answer. “Batman’s good at his job. I pay attention. End of story.”

“Not end of story,” Artemis pressed. “You fight like—you fight like someone twice your age. Like you’ve been doing this forever.”

Something flickered across Robin’s face, quick and dangerous, before the mask reasserted itself. “Maybe I’m just that good.”

But his tone was hollow.

The interrogation started subtle, but it grew teeth.

Artemis crossed her arms. “Those scars on your arm? You didn’t get them from training drills.”

Robin tugged down his sleeve. “You’re observant. Gold star.”

“Robin—”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” M’gann said quietly, her eyes shimmering. “When I touched your mind earlier in the fight, even just a little—it was like—” She broke off, visibly shaken. “Like walls. Like steel doors. Like you’ve built a fortress to keep people out. And it wasn’t just normal psychic defense. It was…” She struggled for words. “…pain.”

Everyone’s eyes swung back to him.

Robin’s smirk was paper-thin now. “What can I say? Privacy’s important. Gotta keep my diary safe from nosy Martians.”

“Robin.” Kaldur’s voice was gentle but firm. “This is not about privacy. We are your team. Trust goes both ways. If you expect us to follow your orders in battle, you must allow us to understand who we follow.”

For a moment, just a moment, Robin’s hand tightened on the staff until his knuckles went white. His mouth opened, then shut again.

Finally, he said with forced levity, “Batman says never to monologue. Villain 101. Guess I should listen to him.”

But the crack in his voice gave him away.

It only escalated from there.

“Why don’t you ever get hit by the toxins?” Wally blurted out. “Like, seriously. Scarecrow gas, Ivy pollen, Joker venom—half the time you just shrug it off like it’s nothing. That’s not normal.”

Robin rolled his shoulders, mask catching the light. “Build up an immunity. Batman likes running experiments. You’d be surprised what a year of micro-doses can do.”

The room froze.

“That’s insane,” Artemis said flatly. “That’s—child abuse.”

Robin’s smile sharpened, brittle. “Nah. That’s survival.”

The words hung heavy, wrong.

Wally stepped forward. “Rob—”

“Enough.”

The single word cracked like a whip. The grin vanished. Robin stood stiff, too small in the dim training room yet radiating something sharp enough to cut.

“You want answers?” His voice was low, shaking. “Here’s one: everything I do, everything I know, every scar, every immunity, every trick Batman ever shoved into my head—it’s so I can make sure none of you end up in the ground. You don’t need to know how I got it. You don’t want to know.”

He dropped the staff. It clattered against the mat, loud in the silence.

“I’m fourteen,” he whispered. “Fourteen. And I know more ways to kill you than you know to stay alive. Think about that before you keep asking.”

The words stunned them into silence.

And then, before anyone could move, Robin turned on his heel and strode out. No cape flutter, no dramatic exit. Just a boy walking too fast, like if he stayed one more second the walls inside him would finally crumble.

The team didn’t follow.

Artemis broke the silence first, voice thin. “…Did he just—”

“Yes,” Kaldur said gravely.

Conner’s fists clenched. “He’s hiding something. Something big.”

“No kidding,” Artemis muttered. But her bravado was gone. She looked… scared.

M’gann wrapped her arms around herself. “His mind—it wasn’t just walls. It was like… like a maze. Like he’s terrified of what’s inside.”

They all looked at Wally. He hadn’t moved since Robin left, jaw tight, eyes dark.

“Wally,” Artemis prodded, “you’ve known him longest. What aren’t you telling us?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just stared at the door Robin had disappeared through.

Finally, his voice came out low. “You think he’s hiding stuff? You’re right. But it’s not about not trusting us. It’s about not wanting us to see.”

“See what?” M’gann whispered.

Wally swallowed hard, lips thinning. “…That under all the jokes and masks, Robin’s just a kid who’s been through hell. And he’s terrified we’ll look at him different if we find out how deep it goes.”

The weight of it settled heavy over them, suffocating. None of them spoke after that.

The sound of Robin’s footsteps had long faded, but the echo of his words—I’m fourteen. And I know more ways to kill you than you know to stay alive—wouldn’t leave them.

Chapter Text

The mission had gone south fast.

One minute, the Team had infiltrated the steelworks warehouse to intercept a metahuman trafficking exchange. The next, armed mercenaries poured out of hidden side passages.

Gas hissed from vents overhead—thick, cloying, burning their throats before anyone could react.

Robin recognized it instantly.
“Chloral derivative—cover your mouths!” he shouted through the haze.

But even he hadn’t anticipated the sheer volume, the speed of its spread, or the way his teammates dropped one by one: Artemis slumping against a crate, M’gann staggering before crumpling, Kaldur struggling to raise a water shield that fizzled out before forming.

He fought until the edges of his vision went black, batarangs clattering from numb fingers.
And then—darkness.

The cell reeked of antiseptic and iron. A cold, chemical bite hung in the air, stinging the nostrils, coating every breath with bitter sharpness. Somewhere deeper in the complex, machines hummed and liquid bubbled. The sound reminded Robin of veins being bled dry.

They were all chained—wrists bound to thick metal supports, ankles shackled to the floor. The Team had fought hard, but the ambush had been brutal, overwhelming. And now they were here, in the hands of a man who never stopped smiling.

Doctor Hugo Strange stepped forward, shoes clicking on tile. His bald head gleamed under the overhead lights, spectacles perched just-so on his nose, magnifying eyes that glittered with hungry curiosity. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced, studying his prizes like specimens laid out on a lab table.

“Fascinating,” Strange murmured. “An Atlantean. A Martian. A Kryptonian. An archer. A speedster—hobbled, but resilient nonetheless.”

His gaze swept over each member of the Team, lingering just long enough to make skin crawl. Then his eyes snapped to Robin.

“And you.”

The boy stilled. His cape was torn at the hem, domino mask cracked along the edge. His lip was split, blood drying down his chin, but he sat rigidly, jaw tight, as if that alone could keep Strange at bay.

“Tell me, Robin—how does a child become something so… formidable?”

Robin tilted his head, smirk tugging at his bloody lip. “Good genetics. Multivitamins. Lots of TV.”

The others—Artemis, M’gann, Conner, Kaldur, Wally—watched in silence. Some strained against chains, some clenched their jaws, but none dared speak. They all knew it. Strange didn’t want them. He wanted Robin.

Strange’s lips curved faintly. “Sarcasm. The mask of the insecure. No matter. I have ways of peeling it away.”

He snapped his fingers. Two guards approached, carrying trays of syringes, vials, and gleaming instruments. Strange selected one needle, holding it to the light. A viscous liquid glistened within.

“Truth serum,” he said almost conversationally. “An experimental strain. Stronger than sodium thiopental. Most subjects break within minutes.”

Robin’s pulse quickened, though outwardly he only shrugged. “You’d be disappointed. I’ve got a fast metabolism.”

“Which is why we will test,” Strange replied smoothly. He gestured, and the guards seized Robin’s arm. The boy twisted, tried to wrench free, but chains bit into his wrists, and the needle slid into his vein.

His teammates jerked in protest.

“Stop it!” M’gann cried, voice cracking.
Conner roared, straining against his cuffs.
Artemis spat curses.

The guards held them down, striking when they resisted. Kaldur’s calm voice cut through the din, urging them to conserve strength. Futile to fight blindly. They needed to wait.

Robin sat still, back pressed against cold steel, heart hammering. The serum spread hot through his veins. He clenched his jaw, breathed steady, forcing his mind to wall up. Batman had drilled every protocol: mind over body, thought over chemistry.

Strange crouched, eyes gleaming. “Tell me, boy. How long have you been doing this?”

Robin’s lips parted. His tongue felt thick, mind heavy. He almost heard the words slip out—six years—before he bit them back, forcing air into something else.
“Long enough to know your cologne’s cheap.”

Strange’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your name?”

“Robin,” he answered immediately, voice even.

“Your real name.”

The serum tugged at him, words bubbling at the back of his throat. He bit down hard until his jaw creaked. “That is my real name. Try the DMV, maybe they’ll print you a driver’s license.”

Strange’s hand cracked across his cheek. Blood sprayed. Robin’s head lolled, but his grin never faltered.

“What’s Batman’s name?”

“...You’re kidding, right? He’s obviously Mr. B. Real original. Pretty sure his middle name’s ‘Scary.’”

A blow to the ribs this time. Robin swallowed the grunt.

“How old are you?”

The number came instantly: fourteen. The serum seized on it, desperate to spill it free. His lips trembled—
He forced a laugh. “Old enough to kick your ass, young enough to bounce back faster than you.”

The knife plunged shallowly into his shoulder. Robin hissed, muscles jerking.

“What’s under the mask?”
“Zit cream. Embarrassing, really.”

“Why does Batman keep you around?”
“Tax break. I’m cheaper than a Batmobile oil change.”

“How long have you been his partner?”

The serum scraped claws along his skull. Since I was eight. The truth burned his tongue raw. He coughed, biting it back.
“Since you were still shopping for discount suits.”

Another punch. Another knife slash. More blood.

The questions came sharper, quicker, overlapping:
“Where do you live?”
“What’s the Batcave’s location?”
“Who else knows your secret?”
“What are the Justice League’s weaknesses?”

Each pressed harder against the walls in his head. Each scraped against the truth.
And every time, Robin answered with a joke, or silence, or a sneer. His voice got hoarser, but never gave them what they wanted.

“You’re very resilient, boy,” Strange said at last, tone shifting. “But if I know anything about the human mind, it is that it has a breaking point. And I can tell—you’re coming very close to the edge.”

He backhanded Robin across the jaw. The boy’s head snapped sideways, blood springing to his lip. He spat red onto the floor, then laughed—actually laughed.

“Really? That’s your big move? Been hit harder in training.”

“How about we try again? Tell me, brat—how old are you?”

Robin’s chest heaved. The serum burned. His voice wavered. “F-ff… fourteen.”

“Ah.” Strange’s smile sharpened. “So. Bats has got you training young.”

The Team’s faces shifted—horror etched deep. They had known Robin was fourteen, but hearing it forced under duress, dragged from his own lips—it was different.

“Progress,” Strange murmured. “So tell me—how long have you been doing this vigilante job?”

Robin’s throat convulsed. His head drooped. The truth clawed free.
“S-s… six. Six years…”

The room went still.

Strange’s brows lifted. “Six years? Remarkable. Barely out of childhood—and already molded into a soldier.” He tapped his chin, pacing slowly before Robin. “Tell me—was it choice? Or coercion? Did Batman pluck you from your cradle and throw you into the night?”

Robin sneered, but his silence was heavy.

Wally jerked against his chains, voice cracking. “Back off! You don’t know anything about him!”

A guard cuffed him hard across the jaw.

Strange didn’t even look at Wally. His eyes never left Robin. “Why would any man weaponize a child?”

Robin’s lip curled, bloodied teeth flashing in a crooked grin. “Maybe he just… saw potential. Unlike you.”

The doctor chuckled. “Defiance. Always defiance. But the serum… it gnaws at you, doesn’t it? It wants out.” He leaned closer. “Where did you train, boy? Who taught you to fight?”

The answer slammed against Robin’s skull—Batman. He bit down until copper filled his mouth. “Summer camp.”

Strange’s hand lashed across his face again. His ears rang, but the smirk held.

“And the scars?” Strange’s voice was low, probing, cruel. His gaze flicked to Robin’s exposed skin where torn fabric revealed pale lines. “Too many for fourteen. What broke you open, hm? Guns? Blades? Bones?”

Artemis flinched visibly. M’gann turned her face away, unable to hide the tears. Conner pulled so hard at his restraints the steel groaned.

Robin forced a breath, sweat dripping into his eyes. “Occupational hazard.”

Strange’s calm cracked. He seized Robin’s chin, forcing his face upward. “How many bodies have you left behind?”

The serum twisted, pulling the truth forward. Robin’s vision swam. His chest rose and fell in uneven jerks. His voice rasped: “N… none.”

The word echoed—fragile, defiant, still holding.

Strange blinked, surprised, then smiled faintly. “Remarkable. A liar by instinct, a survivor by design. But even the strongest walls crumble, given time.”

He straightened, signaling the guards. “Apply more.”

The glint of another syringe filled Robin’s vision. His pulse thundered.

“Enough.”

Kaldur’s voice cut through the tension. Calm. Steady. Commanding.

Strange tilted his head. “The Atlantean speaks.”

“You will not break him,” Kaldur said evenly, dark eyes steady. “And you underestimate us all.”

Strange’s smile widened. “We shall see.”

The second needle plunged in. Robin gasped, body jerking as liquid fire spread through his veins. His head sagged forward, vision blurring.

“Tell me,” Strange whispered. “What is Batman’s name?”

For a heartbeat, Robin’s lips trembled. The Team froze, horror flooding their faces.

Then—Robin’s laughter ripped out, ragged and wild. “Pretty sure it’s… Not Telling You. Middle name: Still Not Telling You.”

Strange’s smile faltered.

That was the crack Kaldur needed.

A subtle ripple shimmered against the floor. Unnoticed, a thin stream of condensation had gathered beneath his chains, coaxed silently by his will. He twisted his wrists, guiding the water with microscopic precision, shaping it into a fine blade.

Wally caught the movement. His wide eyes sharpened. He stilled, masking the sudden tension.

Strange turned back toward his instruments, signaling his men to prepare restraints for “longer-term study.”

The instant his back was turned, Kaldur sliced through his own bonds. The metal gave way with a soft snap masked by the hum of machinery.

“Now,” Kaldur breathed.

It happened in a blur.

Kaldur surged forward, slamming one guard into the wall. Wally’s cuffs shattered as Kaldur sliced them, and the speedster—dizzy and stumbling but furious—tripped the second guard. Artemis lunged for the fallen tray of instruments, yanking a scalpel free to cut her own chains.

“Go—quietly!” Kaldur hissed, eyes flicking toward Strange.

But subtlety collapsed in seconds. The guards shouted, guns drawn. Conner tore his restraints apart with brute force, steel shrieking. M’gann’s eyes glowed green as she flung a guard across the room telekinetically.

Strange spun, fury blazing. “NO-”

Robin sagged in his chains, half-conscious, but his voice rasped out: “K-Kaldur… door…”

The Atlantean nodded once. He barked orders like a seasoned commander:
“Artemis—cover fire. Wally—take Robin. Superboy—clear the path. M’gann—smoke their minds.”

In seconds, chaos turned to controlled escape.

Artemis’s arrows shattered lights overhead, plunging the room into shadows. Conner barreled through the reinforced door with a thunderous crash. M’gann clouded the mercenaries’ thoughts, staggering their aim.

Wally skidded to Robin’s side, ripping the boy’s chains free. Robin slumped heavily against him, groaning, but still managed a weak grin. “Told you… I don’t break easy.”

“Yeah, well,” Wally muttered, hauling him up. “Don’t make me test that again.”

Kaldur led the charge down the corridor, voice a low command in the dark. “Stay close. Stay silent. We leave as shadows.”

Behind them, Strange’s furious shouts echoed through the steelworks, promising vengeance. But the Team was already gone bleeding, shaken, but together.

And Robin, though pale and trembling, still hadn’t given up a single truth that mattered.

Chapter Text

The cave’s medbay was dim, quiet but for the low beeping of a monitor and the soft shuffle of Alfred moving in the background. Robin sat on the cot, shoulders hunched, mask off, blood and antiseptic staining his skin.

Bruce stayed beside him, one hand resting firm on the boy’s back—steadying, grounding. He hadn’t left since they’d walked off the Bio-Ship.

The serum still lingered in Dick’s veins. Bruce could see it in the way his pupils fought to focus, in the restless tremor of his fingers, in the way words kept pressing at his lips like water against a dam.

Finally, it broke.

“It was too much,” Dick blurted, voice cracking. “I couldn’t—I almost said it, I almost told him everything.” His hands clawed at the cot’s edge. “He just kept asking, over and over, and I could feel it, like my brain was… betraying me. And if I slipped, if I told him your name, the Cave, the League—”

Bruce’s hand pressed lightly against his shoulder, grounding the spiraling words. “You didn’t.”

Dick shook his head violently. “But I almost did! You don’t get it, it was right there—my tongue, my throat—I had to bite down so hard not to say it. If he’d pushed one more time—” His voice broke into a sharp, shaky laugh. “Maybe I’m not strong enough for this. Maybe I was never—”

“Richard.”

The name—rare from Batman’s lips—cut the air like a blade.

Bruce shifted so his eyes met his son’s, no shadows, no masks. Just Bruce. “You were strong enough. You are. Do you understand? That man had every advantage, and you still didn’t give him what mattered. You fought harder than anyone could ask.”

Dick’s eyes brimmed, glassy and wet. He choked out, “But I’m fourteen. Fourteen, and I’ve been doing this since I was eight. They know that now. Wally looked at me like—like I was some freak. Like I’m not normal. And he’s right, isn’t he? I should be at a stupid movie, or—or playing basketball, or—or—” His voice cracked into a sob. “Not chained to a wall while some lunatic carves me up for secrets.”

The words poured out, raw and jagged, everything he never allowed himself to say spilling free under the serum’s grip. His hands shook so violently they knotted into his own hair.

Bruce didn’t stop him. He caught the boy’s wrists gently, lowered them, and pulled him in, gloved arms closing tight around trembling shoulders.

“You are not a freak,” Bruce said into his hair. His voice was quiet, but firm enough to anchor. “You’re my son. You’re Robin. And you are more than enough.”

Dick shuddered against him, small in his arms, still trying to speak through the hitching breaths. “It hurts. Not just the cuts. Inside. Like I’m… hollowed out.”

“I know.” Bruce’s jaw clenched, the words tasting like failure. “I should have gotten there sooner. I should have stopped it before-”

Dick shook his head fiercely against his chest. “No. Don’t. Don’t make it your fault too. I just… I just need you here. Right now.”

That stripped Bruce bare in a way nothing else could. He tightened his hold, chin resting against sweat-damp hair.

“I’m here,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight. Not ever.”

The boy’s breath finally began to slow, words trailing into quiet sobs, then silence. When he sagged against Bruce at last, spent and shaking but lighter for having spilled everything, Bruce simply held him,father, partner, protector,all at once.

For tonight, that was enough.

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since Robin had trained the team, and one week since the team was captured and Robin was… well, yeah.

M’gann was bored. Very, very bored.

It was an eerily quiet night at the Mountain.

Robin was on patrol with Batman he’d said he might stop by afterward.
Conner was holed up in his room, as usual.
Wally was God knows where, though he’d mumbled something about being with Kaldur.
Artemis was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone with the kind of focus she usually saved for a target.

Tonight was supposed to be movie night. Or maybe game night. Honestly, the label changed week to week
the point was: “Let’s hang out and do normal teenager things night.” But apparently, everyone else had forgotten.

Everyone but M’gann.

She was determined.

M’gann floated into the lounge, her smile bright but a little forced.

“Okay, team,” she said, clapping her hands. “We’re not just going to sit around moping. It’s game night!”

Artemis didn’t even look up. “Pass. My thumbs are already busy.”

M’gann frowned, undeterred. “Come on! We never get to just… be. And I have snacks.” She gestured to the kitchen, where a suspiciously large bowl of popcorn hovered in midair.

That at least got Artemis to glance over. “…Butter?”

“Extra.”

Artemis sighed and set her phone down. “Fine. But if this turns into karaoke night again, I’m leaving.”

A Zeta-Tube announced itself with a mechanical chime:

“Recognized. Kid Flash. B-03.”

Seconds later, Wally zoomed into the lounge, arms full of soda cans. “Ladies! Fear not, fun has arrived!” He skid to a stop, grinning. “What’d I miss?”

“Me trying to get everyone together,” M’gann said brightly.

“Then you’re in luck, because I brought the fuel for epic gaming. And I already called dibs on Mario Kart.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “You only like it because you cheat.”

“Excuse me? That’s called skill.”

“Skill doesn’t mean running me off Rainbow Road every time.”

“That’s literally the point of Rainbow Road!”
Before M’gann could referee, the Zeta-Tube chimed again:

“Recognized. Aqualad. B-02.”

Kaldur stepped in, carrying a small paper bag. “Wally insisted I accompany him. I do not know why, as he reached the Mountain far faster than I did.”

“Because you don’t know how to appreciate vending machine chili dogs, bro,” Wally said, plopping down on the couch. “Now that’s gaming fuel.”

Kaldur eyed the bag solemnly. “I am beginning to doubt this.”

M’gann clapped again. “Perfect! All we need now is Conner.”

Silence.

Everyone exchanged a look.

“I’ll get him,” Artemis said finally, pushing herself up. “If anyone can guilt him into playing board games, it’s me. Since he ate all my crisps yesterday.”
Ten minutes later

Conner trudged in behind Artemis, arms crossed. “This better not take long.”

“Aw, come on, Supey,” Wally teased, tossing him a controller. “We’ll go easy on you.”

Conner caught it without looking. “Don’t.”

M’gann clapped. “Okay! Teams for Mario Kart! Losers have to—” She paused, thinking. “—do snack duty next time.”

Wally grinned wickedly. “Prepare to serve, my friends.”

One chaotic hour later

“YOU PUSHED ME OFF THE TRACK!” Artemis shouted.

“That’s called strategy!” Wally shot back, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his controller.

“You’re not even playing the game, you’re just targeting me!”

“Exactly!”

Conner, sitting stone-faced with his controller, muttered, “This is stupid.” Then promptly won first place.

Everyone turned.

“…What?” he asked flatly.

M’gann squealed and threw her arms around him. “You’re a natural!”

Conner froze, controller still in hand. “…I guess.”

The Zeta-Tube chimed again.

“Recognized. Robin. B-01.”

Robin strolled in, peeling off his gloves. “Wow. Leave for one night and you all lose your minds.”

“You’re late,” Wally complained. “We could’ve used you on Team ‘Destroy Artemis.’”

“Ha. In your dreams,” Artemis shot back.

Robin smirked, snagged a controller, and sat on the arm of the couch. “So. Who’s ready to lose?”
Later that night…

Controllers lay forgotten. Popcorn was everywhere. The lounge had settled into that warm post-chaos lull, with everyone slouched into cushions like they’d survived a war.

“We need a new game,” M’gann said, determined not to let the night die. “Something we can all play.”

“Less competitive?” Artemis asked pointedly.

M’gann’s smile faltered. “…Yes?”

“Then I’m in.” Artemis shot a glare at Wally, who was already opening his mouth. “And if West so much as mentions racing, I’m out.”

Robin, still dangling upside down from the couch back, grinned. “Truth or Dare.”

Artemis narrowed her eyes. “You sound way too confident.”

Robin shrugged, the picture of innocence. “Who, me?”

The first few rounds were light — Wally dared Conner to “smile for more than two seconds,” which gave everyone nightmares. Artemis dared Wally to stay silent for five minutes, and the blessed silence almost made her tear up.

But it didn’t stay light for long.

“Truth or Dare?” Artemis asked suddenly, turning to Robin.

He smirked. “Truth.”

Her eyes narrowed. “…Do you ever stop acting like everything’s a joke?”

The grin didn’t falter, but it froze there, tighter. “Nope. That’s my superpower.”

Artemis rolled her eyes, but the others exchanged uneasy glances.

“Okay, my turn,” Wally jumped in, desperate to break the tension. “Never have I ever… fought crime before bedtime.”

Everyone turned to him.

“Dude,” Robin said flatly.

“What? It’s relevant!” Wally smirked, but it was weak.

Kaldur set his hand down without hesitation. “I have patrolled Atlantis since I was twelve.”

Artemis put hers down too. “Archery competitions when I was ten. Not exactly ‘crime,’ but close enough.”

M’gann hesitated, then lowered hers. “Okay, technically? I fought White Martians way before I came to Earth…”

And then, without looking at anyone, Robin set his hand down too.

Silence.

The others shifted uncomfortably. They knew — they’d known since the League had explained his background — but hearing it in the middle of a dumb game made it land differently.

“Eight,” Artemis muttered, almost to herself. “You were eight years old.”

Robin stretched theatrically, as if brushing it off. “What can I say? Gotham starts early.”

“That’s not funny,” she snapped.

“Never said it was.”

M’gann floated closer, her voice gentle. “Robin… don’t you ever wish you’d had a chance to just… be a kid?”

For once, he didn’t grin. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t deflect.

“…Sometimes.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “But wishing doesn’t change anything.”

Wally, uncharacteristically serious, leaned forward. “Bro… you’ve been doing this longer than any of us. You don’t have to keep acting like it’s nothing.”

Robin’s mask tilted toward him. “If I don’t act like it’s nothing, then it’s everything. And I can’t…” He trailed off, biting the rest back, mask reflecting the glow of the TV.

Conner, arms crossed, muttered, “That’s messed up.”

Robin’s laugh was hollow. “Yeah. Welcome to my life.”

The room was heavy now, thick with everything unsaid. Even Artemis, usually quick with a retort, stayed quiet.

Finally, Kaldur spoke, his voice calm but firm. “You may have begun this life as a child. But you are not alone in it now. You do not need to carry it alone.”

Robin blinked at him. For a second, the mask and the smirk slipped — just a flicker — before he pulled it back up.

“Guess it’s your turn, Kaldur. Truth or Dare?” he said, voice light again.

But the team didn’t miss it.

For the rest of the night, they kept playing, laughing, arguing — but every so often, someone’s gaze would drift toward Robin. Toward the smallest of them. Toward the boy who had been doing this since he was eight.
Then, inevitably, Wally clapped his hands together. “Okay, okay, that got way too depressing. New game.”

“Please no,” Robin muttered.

“Yes,” Wally said firmly. “FMK. Celebrity edition.”

Artemis groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“Tradition,” Wally said, ignoring her. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

The first few rounds were harmless fun.

Artemis was forced to choose between Chris Hemsworth, Zac Efron, and Ryan Reynolds. She killed Efron without hesitation.

Conner blushed bright red when given Taylor Swift, Ariana Grande, and Selena Gomez. (“Marry Taylor, kiss Selena,” he grunted. M’gann nearly dropped the popcorn.)

Even Wally’s turn went as expected: Beyoncé, Margot Robbie, Rihanna. (“Marry Rihanna, kiss Beyoncé, kill Robbie—no hard feelings.” Artemis rolled her eyes and muttered “wrong answer.”)

Then it was Robin’s turn.

Wally leaned forward, smirking like he’d been waiting the whole night for this. “Alright, Boy Wonder. FMK: Scarlett Johansson, Gal Gadot… and Bruce Wayne.”

The room froze.

Robin’s mask hid a lot, but not the way his shoulders stiffened, or the flush creeping up his neck.

“…What?” he croaked.

“You heard me,” Wally grinned, eyes sparkling with wicked delight. “ScarJo, Gal, and Gotham’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Why is Bruce Wayne even an option?” Artemis asked, baffled. “He’s, like, old enough to be your dad.”

Robin’s mouth moved before his brain caught up. “He’s only forty.”

Every head swiveled toward him.

“…And you know that how?” Artemis demanded.

Robin’s face went crimson. “Uh—Google? Duh?”

Wally lost it. He toppled sideways off the couch, howling with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Ohhh my god—Robin—wants to smooch Daddy Warbucks!”

“I do NOT!” Robin shouted, burying his face in his cape.

“You totally do!”

“I hate you!”

The others were still bewildered. Artemis wrinkled her nose. “Seriously, Wally, that’s gross. Why would you even—”

“Maybe we should pick someone closer to Robin’s age,” M’gann suggested gently. She tilted her head. “Like… Richard Grayson.”

Robin froze. Absolutely froze.

Conner frowned. “Bruce Wayne’s kid?”

“Ward,” Artemis corrected, smirking. “But yeah. Cute, rich, our age. Way better choice than Bruce.”

Robin made a strangled sound from under his cape.

Wally, meanwhile, had completely unraveled. He was on his back, kicking the air, tears streaming down his face. “Ohhh, this is too good. Robin’s FMK is basically Scarlett Johansson, Gal Gadot, and—himself!”

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” Robin roared, mortified.

Artemis narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Why are you freaking out so much?”

“Yeah,” Conner added. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a name.”

“Inside joke,” Wally gasped out between wheezes, covering for him through sheer hysteria. “Trust me—you wouldn’t get it!”

Robin lunged at him, smacking him with a pillow, cape still hiding his face. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

But Wally just kept laughing, and the others kept staring at Robin, confused but amused, while Robin seriously considered Zeta-tubing straight to Gotham and never coming back.

The morning after Games Night, the Cave was buzzing again.

M’gann was happily humming in the kitchen, flipping pancakes for whoever wandered in. Conner sat at the counter, pretending he didn’t care but devouring his third plate. Artemis was scrolling her phone, smirking every so often like she was sitting on a secret.

Robin dragged himself in last, mask already on despite the early hour, hair damp from a shower that clearly hadn’t washed away the humiliation of last night.

“Morning!” M’gann said cheerfully, plating up a stack of pancakes.

“Mm.” Robin grunted, sliding into a seat and tugging his cape around himself like armor.

“Sleep well?” Artemis asked, far too casually.

Robin narrowed his eyes. “…Fine.”

She smirked. “Dream about anyone in particular?”

Wally, mid-bite of a pancake, nearly choked. He slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking violently.

Robin’s jaw clenched. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” Artemis asked, wide-eyed innocence painted across her face. “We were just wondering if you’re more of a Scarlett Johansson guy… or a Richard Grayson guy.”

Wally completely lost it. He slid off his chair, coughing and laughing at the same time. “Ohhh god—I can’t—”

Robin kicked him under the table, hard.

“Ow!” Wally yelped, still laughing.

Conner glanced between them, frowning. “Why does that name bother you so much? He’s just some kid from Gotham.”

“Yeah,” M’gann added, floating over another plate. “You got so embarrassed when I said it. have you… met him before?”

Robin tugged his hood lower. “He’s annoying.”

“That’s not an answer,” Artemis sing-songed.

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” Robin muttered.

“Mm-hm.” She leaned back in her chair, smug. “I bet you’ve got a crush.”

Robin sputtered so hard he nearly inhaled his pancake. “I DO NOT.”

M’gann tilted her head. “But if you did, that wouldn’t be a bad thing. He seems nice. He’s, you know… age-appropriate.”

Robin dropped his fork, slumping forward to bang his forehead against the table. “Kill me now.”

Wally, tears of laughter streaming down his face, managed to wheeze, “Nooo, don’t kill yourself—you’re supposed to marry yourself.”

Robin turned his head just enough to glare daggers at him. “I hate you.”

“Love you too, Brobin,” Wally cackled.

The rest of the team just exchanged looks—half amused, half suspicious. Something wasn’t adding up. But Robin refused to say another word, not with Wally snickering in the corner like a time bomb ready to go off.

For the first time in his life, Robin found himself almost wishing Bruce would storm in and call them to mission. Almost.