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“Status?” Batman’s growl sounded over the comms, and Jason tamped down on the immediate instinctive desire to flip him off at the sound of his voice.
The building they were surveilling was basically several warehouses shoved together into a weird, Tetris-like shape, and Batman was stationed all the way on the opposite side of it for this op. Between the distance and Gotham’s permanent pollution-and-bad-weather haze, any rude gesture Jason aimed in the Big Bad Bat’s direction should’ve been well-covered – but it was Batman. Somehow, Batman would know. He always knew, and Jason didn’t really feel like starting an argument about appropriate mission behavior this early.
“Ready to go, B,” came Nightwing’s cheerful voice over the comm.
“Ready, Batman,” confirmed Red Robin.
“In position,” Robin said curtly.
“Here. We getting this show on the road sometime soon? There’s a new episode of Say Yes to the Dress on tonight,” Jason drawled, eyeing his assigned warehouse from his position one rooftop over. Shadowy figures moved behind the windows, and Jason was itching to break up the party inside. There’d been a newer drug on the streets of Crime Alley, and all the Bats’ intel pointed to the source’s base being this building.
“You really expect us to believe the Red Hood watches Say Yes to the Dress?” Tim asked incredulously. Jason smirked behind his helmet.
“Tt. If you are going to lie, you should choose something more believable, Hood,” came Damian’s unimpressed admonishment.
Dick’s snort crackled over the comm. “Actually, Little Wing’s always had a weakness for that show. He likes to yell threats at all the screen when the moms make the brides-to-be cry,” he chirped, tone fond, and Jason’s smirk disappeared. “One of the first weekends he lived at the Manor, I came home to find him in front of the TV with a giant pile of empty Reese’s wrappers that he was periodically throwing at – “
Jason interrupted loudly, talking over his brother the nuisance. “’Wing, unless you want me telling about what you did when Mesnick broke up with Melissa on the Bachelor, you better shut the fu – “
“Boys.” Batman voice cut him off, tone stern. “Focus.”
Jason rolled his eyes as Dick chimed out an apology to Bruce, letting his own irritated silence speak for itself. Of all the things about being a Bat that he secretly missed (but would steadfastly deny missing until his dying day – ha!), Bruce’s lecture voice was not one of them. Still, the fact that Bruce used the tone, something he generally reserved for family co-vigilantes, on him at all spoke of an ease between them that hadn’t been present mere months ago.
Jason had been joining in on Bat operations more and more frequently over the past few months, though he still staunchly denied any and all entreaties accusations that he was rejoining the family. The Bats had intel and resources that he needed in order to make Crime Alley a safer place – that was all, and Dick could shove his tentatively hopeful grins every time Jason showed up to another mission up his ass. Jason was not coming back to the family.
He wasn’t.
“Everyone clear on mission parameters?” came the grunted query. Really, as if any one of them would say they weren’t. And sure enough, affirmations were echoed down the line – which, considering the mission parameters in question were basically spy on the operation and move in if you spot an opening, the instructions weren’t exactly complex.
The dirtbags he was responsible for surveilling weren’t doing anything especially interesting. There were a couple of them standing guard, and the ones that weren’t appeared to be having a meeting of some sort – the kind of meeting where each of them was packing heat and regarding one another with the sort of lazy wariness that came from working with people you couldn’t trust.
Jason hated surveillance operations with a passion. It was frustrating as fuck to be stuck sitting and watching without doing anything, knowing you might be giving your targets the opportunity to hurt more innocents before you could stop them. Plus, it was boring. Jason had been taught the value of patience in both his Bat and his League training – and he could sit still for hours on end, when necessary. He just didn’t like to.
Thankfully, it was looking like he wouldn’t have to sit still too much longer for this one – the meeting in his section appeared to be ending, the figures in the building standing and the guards suitably distracted by the interior movements. “Meeting’s over and there’s an opening on my end, I’m taking it,” Jason called brusquely, immediately dropping from his spot into the fray below before any of the Bats had a chance to protest.
The thugs turned at his landing, expressions shifting quickly from shock to fear, and Jason grinned behind his helmet. “Did my invite get lost in the mail?” he called out, watching with a smirk as they started to scramble away. They didn’t actually think they could outrun him, did they? “I’m hurt, guys. Don’t you know I have FOMO?”
Batman’s long-suffering sigh crackled over the comms. Jason, inundated with the years of practice that every quippy former-Robin possessed, ignored it.
The next few minutes were a haze of fun. There weren’t enough goons for them to be a true threat, and Jason’s arsenal of rubber fucking bullets ensured the Bats wouldn’t be breathing down his neck while he took them down.
It was an easy takedown, just enough to get Jason’s blood pumping from slight exertion without any real danger, and the criminals were groaning on the floor as Jason zip-tied them in no time. (He still thought the whole no-killing-just-zip-tying-criminals-for-the-police rule was dumb, but it was Batman’s stipulation on their shared missions, so whatever. Jason could play by their stupid rules when he needed intel.)
While he was finishing up, Batman and Robin both came over the comms calling out openings in their own sections, followed quickly by Red Robin, then Nightwing, and then the comms were flooded with the sounds of three quipping former/current Robins and one exasperated Batman all kicking ass. Thanks to his helmet, Jason could viciously deny that a small smile twitched at his lips at the sound.
“Status,” Batman growled out eventually, once the sounds had started to die off.
“Clear,” called Red Robin.
“Clear,” came Robin’s clipped tone.
“If the area were any clearer, it’d be transparent,” Jason responded with an eye roll.
“Nightwing, status?” Batman called when Dick didn’t chime in.
Jason could still hear vague noises of punches landing through the comms, and all the corresponding grunts sounded like they were coming from the thugs, so he wasn’t too worried – until Dick’s voice came over the comm sounding tense. “Still working on it, B.”
“Robin and Hood, your positions are closest – go help Nightwing,” Batman ordered as Jason’s brows raised behind his helmet, already moving to the roof so he could swing to Dick’s warehouse. Was Golden Boy Dick Grayson actually struggling? This would be one for the books.
“I’m fine,” Dick protested, an odd note to his voice that only had Jason moving quicker. He could hear the sound of doors opening through the comms that told him Damian had apparently decided to go through the compound. “Don’t – that is, I don’t need – “
“I am nearly there, Nightwing,” Damian said brusquely.
“I’ll be right behind the demon brat,” Jason promised, brow furrowing as he tried to tamp down on his concern. Whatever was causing Dick to act so strangely, Nightwing could take care of himself. He’d be fine until they got there. There was no reason for worry.
“Really, it’s okay,” Dick called back, voice a bit high, which wasn’t doing great things for Jason’s blood pressure. “Hood, really, just stay put, I don’t need you here.”
What?
Jason drew up short in surprise. Did Dick just not want his help? Why? Hurt shot through him, but he ruthlessly quashed it, trying to shape it into anger instead.
“Too good for my help, Golden Boy?” Jason drawled out, forcing a disinterested tone. He started moving in Dick’s direction again, movements short and angry. He didn’t really care if he wasn't family enough for the Golden Dick Grayson to willingly accept his help – if the idiot needed someone to save his stupid neck, Jason would show up anyway, and Nightwing could just fucking deal with it.
“Nightwing, what’s the situation?” Tim called out before Dick could answer, not bothering to disguise the worry in his voice.
Dick’s voice was uncharacteristically hesitant even as the sounds of fighting in the background continued. “The men have…um…raven...rods...?”
A moment of baffled silence. “Raven rods?” Tim cautiously asked, and Jason was glad he wasn’t the only one wondering if Dick had taken a blow to the head during the fight.
“…Yes.”
Jason made an irritated noise. “What the fuck is a raven rod?” he demanded, continuing across the rooftops. Not much further until he reached Dick’s warehouse, and then he’d be able to see for himself.
He’d forgotten that Damian had been closer.
There was the sound of a door opening through the comms, a momentary pause, and then the most unimpressed huff Jason thought he’d ever heard. “For god’s sake. He means crowbars,” Damian said crossly.
Oh.
Oh shit, that made way more sense.
“Crowbars,” Jason said flatly, rolling his eyes as he kept moving. “That’s why you didn’t want me there? I’m not afraid of a goddamn crowbar, Night – “
A dark figure barreled into him before he could finish the statement, knocking the wind out of him and hefting him up instead of down, and then Jason was bent in half over something solid and unforgiving, world upside down and bouncing rhythmically. He blinked once, twice, and the world re-oriented itself enough for Jason to spot the bottom of Batman’s cape swishing against the ground from his apparent position over the man’s fucking shoulder.
“What the fuck,” he said, half-dazed. He wriggled vigorously, but Batman had an arm clamped down across Jason’s legs, keeping him securely in the fireman’s carry. The man’s stride didn’t even falter, and Jason glared at Batman’s back incredulously. “B, what the fuck, let me down!”
“No,” came the growled response. Batman kept moving, and Jason was pretty sure at this point that they were heading in the direction of the Batmobile.
“No?” he repeated disbelievingly. “Why the hell not?”
“Crowbars,” was the simple, hard answer, though Jason thought he heard the slightest waver in his dad’s Bruce’s tone.
Still, it didn’t mean Batman got to carry him like a fucking sack of potatoes, especially when there was still a job to do.
“Seriously? B, I’m fine,” Jason protested hotly. “Nightwing needs backup, put me down!”
“No.” The stern response was implacable, and Jason vented his annoyance by renewing his struggle. Batman’s hold tightened, and there was no way he was breaking that grip. Jason gave up with an angry, affronted noise as they neared the Batmobile. Batman ignored it. “You’re not going back in there. You’re coming back to the Cave.”
What the fuck even – Jason didn’t go to Cave unless he was injured, and he was sure as shit not hurt after not getting anywhere near a fucking crowbar.
“Like hell I am!”
Batman set him down next to Batmobile’s passenger door, then crossed his arms, doing an excellent job at mimicking an immovable object. That was fine, Jason was perfectly happy to play the part of unstoppable force. He glared at Bruce, the effect probably somewhat mitigated by the fact that Bruce couldn’t see it under the helmet. Fuck it, Bruce deserved the full force of his glare. He took off the helmet and narrowed his eyes.
“I’m not injured, I’m not going to the Cave,” he argued.
“You are,” Batman said. Jason gritted his teeth, hooking the helmet onto his belt so he could cross his arms stubbornly.
“I’m not!”
“You are.”
“Oh my god – are you four? Give me one good reason why, old man,” Jason demanded.
A pause. “Because I said so.”
Jason rolled his eyes. Really? Was that the best he could do? “I’m not a kid, that doesn’t work on me anymore.”
He moved to step around Bruce – only for Bruce to match him. He moved again, and Bruce stepped to match him again. Jason made a furious noise. “B, come on. There’s no reason for me to need to go back to the Cave!”
The noise Batman made could only be described as distressed, and it had Jason glancing at him with more concern than outrage before the man finally spoke, voice pained. “Crowbars, Jay.”
Was he fucking kidding? “I didn’t even see one, let alone get hit by one, B!” Jason said exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air. And yet Batman still wouldn’t let him by.
Thankfully, Nightwing took that as his cue to arrive, completely unharmed. “Mission’s done,” he greeted them cheerfully. Batman didn’t move from where he was blocking Jason’s exit.
“’Wing, would you please tell B I’m fine?” Jason entreated, and Dick just grinned at him, amusement written into every line of his body. Jason’s eyes narrowed as he mentally took back his relief at the older vigilante's arrival, sensing an impending betrayal.
Sure enough, Dick said brightly, “It wouldn’t hurt for you to get checked out!”
Now would’ve been a great time to develop laser vision, because Dick would be a pile of ash with the force of the glare Jason was aiming his way. “I didn’t get hurt,” he growled, irritated beyond belief at this point. “And I’m not scared of a fucking piece of metal!”
Dick’s grin slipped, and his eyes darted to where Batman was still hovering immovably before returning to Jason. “Maybe not, but the rest of us might could use the reassurance that you’re okay,” he said softly, and oh shit, those were the patented Dick Grayson puppy dog eyes getting aimed his way.
Jason tried to back away, his brain blaring danger warning bells at the sight, but his back hit the Batmobile. “Don’t look at me like that, asshole, I know exactly what you’re doing,” he warned angrily, but Dick’s eyes just got wider – and for fuck’s sake, were they watering? Had Dick learned to cry on command? The man was a goddamn menace.
“Fine!” Jason snarled furiously. “Fine, I’ll go to the Cave, you overbearing mother hens – just stop looking at me like that.”
Dick beamed, all traces of tears vanishing, the absolute fucker. “Great!” he chirped, bouncing over. Jason could sense a hug coming and tried to shrink away, but there was only so far he could go, and then he was trapped between the Batmobile, the still-looming Batman, and Dick Grayson’s goddamn octopus arms. “Thanks, Little Wing!”
Jason muttered expletives under his breath, trying and failing to wriggle out of his brother’s grip. “Don’t thank me too much, I’ll get checked out and then I’m leaving,” he grumbled firmly from where his face was squished into Dick’s shoulder. “I’m not staying the night.”
He could feel his brother grin. “Sure, Little Wing.”
Aw man, he was getting a bad feeling about that tone. He drew back, trying to give Dick a stern look that absolutely didn’t work, if the other man's unfaltering beatific smile was anything to go by. “I’m not,” he insisted anyway. “I’m leaving afterwards. I have shit to do.”
“Of course,” Dick agreed amiably, opening the door to the Batmobile for him. Jason gave him one more narrow-eyed glare as he lowered himself into the seat. Batman vanished to enter the driver’s side a second later.
“I’m serious!”
“I know you are.”
“I’m not staying the night!”
“Got it, Little Wing. You’re not staying the night.”
He stayed the night.