Bacon_Sand



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    Babysitting. They'd woken him up to babysit.

    He should have stayed in the coffin.

    ~

    Damian scowled, folding his arms. "Where is father? And I'm nothing like you."

    "Kid, you're so much like me that Ra's once caught his bodyguards referring to you as 'little red riding hood'." He swallowed another bite before jumping off the counter, dusting his hands off. "And the rest of the clan went to Bludhaven till Saturday. S' just us."

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    09 Feb 2026

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    "Because," Jason laughed, pulling the car out of the parking lot. "A friend messaged me asking if I wanted to join up for a job with my old team, and I think it would be fun to introduce you guys."

    "You have friends?" Slipped out instinctively, more curious than insulting, but Damian still pressed his lips together in amusement at Jason's dramatic gasp, quickly turning to look out the window and avoid his older brother's fury.

    "Ok, first of all," Jason shot back loudly, holding up a finger in his direction. "The only friends you've ever had have been my subordinates that I'd ordered to take care of you, second-,"

    "Hit a nerve there, didn't I?" Damian turned to input gleefully.

    "-SECOND," Jason yelled over him.

    OR

    The Outlaws collectively adopt Jason's new assassin brother, much to Dick and Bruce's eventual horror.

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    Another pause. "And you-" Dick coughed. "And you've dealt with this kind of stuff before?"

    "Who. The fuck. Else. Is going to." He gritted, glaring across at him. Dick went quiet, and the basement's darkness seemed to flatten the air around them as they stood in each other's company, slightly awkward.

    Dick swallowed, making an aborted gesture over at him. "So what are you a ghostbuster or something?"

    "Oh my god," Jason groaned to himself, instantly turning and walking over to the hole leading out, preparing his grapple so he could leave. He did not have time for this.

    -

    Having use of the All-Blades means Jason's pretty used to being the most qualified person in Gotham to deal with supernatural issues. Why Dick's randomly started trying to help he has no fucking clue.

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    "Uh, I dunno, used to? Didn't really use wooden forks much though, so not really." Apparently happy with the choice, he pulled the bowl out and scrapped the covering, next going for a large serving spoon from one of the doors so he could shovel it into his mouth like a starved dog. "Fuckin' chopsticks was what we had to keep an eye on." He added in between mouthfuls, giving Dick a smirk and a knowing glance, as if they were both in on it and Dick knew anything about what he meant. "Anyway, I'm out. See you next family reunion, or tragedy or whatever."

    And then he was gone, as was one of Alfred's favourite serving spoons and bowl, and the potato salad Dick knew for a fact Bruce had been saving to eat for lunch the next day. Jason probably knew that part, to be fair.

    "...Chopsticks?" He muttered to himself, baffled, in the now empty kitchen.


    Or,

    Damian has some concerning habits. Jason's the only one that seems used to it. The rest of the bats scramble.

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    09 Feb 2026

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    File name: Oracle_system_recording:_BATCOMMUNICATIONS_06/22/24_22:32PM

    Playing audio...

    Jason's laughter has turned into breathless, silent cries. Damian barrels on, seemingly unbothered by his state.

    "-And during all this I'm trying to subtly switch back to using people's actual names; except it fucking backfired because people just assumed I was calling Richard 'Richard' because we had that special parental mentor bond, and Tim had pissed off to- whatever he was doing in the desert for six months- getting a hysterectomy or whatever the fuck happened-"

    "Hysterectomy-" Jason repeats, shrill. "He lost a spleen, Dames."

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