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Wayne Manor never used to be so loud and full of life. For years after Bruce’s parents' deaths, it was desolate and empty. Then, it was full of young giggling when Dick first came to live with the now-older billionaire. Then, full of screaming matches and slammed doors before once again plunged into quiet despair.
The house was never full of laughter after those first couple of years; too quiet or full of harsh voices drawing in grief and the heavy weight of responsibility.
Now, those same shouting voices are softened by the harmonious atmosphere. Those slamming doors are slammed open with wide grins and feral laughter. The murder attempts are cut down to only once a week.
Outside of the Batcave, the most boisterous room in the house turned out to be the kitchen table.
“Listen here, you little shit–” “Language, Master Jason,” “There is no way that you have a higher body count than me. I’m a god damn crime lord–” “more like anti-hero these days,” “and beheaded eight people during my first week .”
“Tt. It seems that your massive ego has killed all the brain cells in that inflated head of yours as you’ve seemingly forgotten that I was raised by an elite group of assassins with hundreds of years of history.”
‘Man, these potatoes are good,’ Danny thought as he ignored the ongoing circus. Tim, his lovely boyfriend, sat beside him with an equally zoned-out expression, undoubtedly thinking about one of his many cases. It’s something Danny loved about Tim, even if he had to ensure the detective didn’t walk into street signs most of the time.
“And you seem to forget that I went on a whole ass killing spree and still kill people when the situation calls for it–”
“Jaylad, you do what?”
Both boys ignored Bruce’s alarmed look at Jason, as he was under the belief that Jason had stopped killing altogether. Dick kept trying to interject and change the subject but kept getting ignored. The rest of the table’s occupants watched with either amused or engrossed expressions.
“Tim can you pass the salt?” Danny whispered into his boyfriend’s ear, causing the man to unconsciously pass it over without even looking up from his plate. “Thanks.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Todd. Father has stated in your file that your kill count at that point was only 94–”
“Why did you say only like that?”
“That’s just what he thinks, baby bat.” Jason shot Damian with an infuriating smirk, ignoring Duke’s exasperated comment.
“Do you have to do this?” Dick groaned, hanging his head in his hands.
Jason and Damian whipped their heads to stare at him with twin glares.
“Yes!” “Absolutely!”
Danny could admit that he might have joined Tim in zoning out a little, but in his defense, he didn’t really care all that much about murder talk. Like, he was half fucking ghost, and even the ghost king himself (Did he tell them about that yet? He knew they knew about the ghost stuff) , his views on death were a little screwed.
“I’m just saying that I have the highest kill count in this family!”
“Over my dead body, Todd,” Damian growled, his hand clenched around his butter knife.
Before Danny knew what was happening, both men set their sights on him, causing him to jump in his seat.
“Danny!” “Nightingale!”
“Uhm, what?” Danny cleared his throat as his food almost went down the wrong pipe. Not that he needed to breathe, but it would have been uncomfortable.
“Tch. You can feel death on people, it’s obvious what we want.”
“Yeah, Ghosty. Tell this demon brat that I obviously have a higher kill count.”
“Another word and I’ll add you to mine, Todd.”
“Now, now. Does Danny really have to–”
“It’s fine, Dick,” Danny sighed, gently placing his fork back on the table with a resigned air. “Anyway, out of the two of you, Damian feels like he has a higher kill count.”
Damian gave Jason a smug smirk, who rolled his eyes and flipped the boy off. The rest of the table let out sighs of relief as they thought the stupid–yet entertaining–argument had finally come to a close.
It was quiet for a moment, most basking in the peace, before Jason spoke up again, this time with furrowed brows.
“Wait, out of the two of us? What does that mean?”
Everyone–sans a still absent-minded Tim–perked up as they turned back toward Danny.
“Uh, exactly what I meant? Between the two of you, Damian feels more like death.”
“Does that mean he’s not the most in the house?” Steph piped up.
“Well I mean, obviously none of you even come close to Tim–”
That’s when Tim finally came back into consciousness, immediately choking on his bite as he looked at Danny with wide eyes, subtly shaking his head even as he choked. It didn’t matter when he slapped his hand over Danny’s mouth as the damage was already done. Everyone at the table stared at him with gaping mouths.
Utter silence. A complete lack of sound unheard of in the house.
And then: chaos.
“What!” Dick looked horrified as his pale face snapped back and forth between Tim and Danny. Jason and Damian looked shocked, mouths hung open, as they grappled with the knowledge that Tim, of all people, had a higher kill count than either of them.
Bruce stared at the wall, eyes haunted and unfocused as his entire world was rearranged. Tim (his little princess, as everyone knew) had a higher kill count than his crime lord and assassin son. He didn’t know if he was about to cry or pass out. Maybe both.
Steph, Duke, and Cass looked shocked but not as surprised as they knew a little bit about Tim’s feral nature.
‘Maybe not as much as they thought,’ Danny thought grimly.
“Sorry, Tim,” he whispered to his boyfriend apologetically. “I thought they knew.”
“Danny,” Tim sharply whispered back, “when the fuck do I tell my family anything?”
Danny just slumped further down with an embarrassed quirk of his lips.
“No, no, explain what the fuck you mean.”
“Well, I mean, uh…” Danny trailed off before letting out a tired sigh. “Tim? What can I say?”
“Everything–” “Shh, let Tim answer, Jason.” “Fine.”
“What’s relevant, I guess,” Tim groaned, placing his hands over his eyes.
“What does that even mean?!” Jason shouted.
“Yes. Explain properly, Nightingale, Drake.”
“Okay, okay, hold on. So basically, you know how we told you that we met in a coffee shop, and then eventually, I realized that he was a vigilante and revealed my own ghost secrets?”
“Yeah…?” Duke narrowed his eyes, same as the rest of the family.
“We lied,” Tim said bluntly, his face neutral while Danny stifled a snort.
“Yeah, that’s not what happened. What really happened was that we met back when Tim was looking for Bruce during his whole time fiasco.”
Everyone flinched at the reminder, Bruce and Dick especially.
“So, Tim actually went on a whole adventure across the globe, and that led to him going on a killing spree of the League of Assassins–” “What?!” “by blowing up all of their bases–” “why didn’t Mother tell me this?” “Then Tim got stabbed by some spider dude–” “from the Council of Spiders, babe.” “That explains nothing, Tim–” “And he died for a few seconds, which put him in my jurisdiction–” “How?” “Plus, CW–” “who?” “kept complaining to me about how Bruce was fucking up the timelines, so me and Tim made a deal that I’d revive him–” “if only I came back that easy.” “if I helped him get Bruce home, but then we really hit it off, so we decided to go on a date. And now we’re here.”
No one knew what to say as they watched the two with wide eyes.
“Oh, also, Tim, this was supposed to be a birthday surprise for you, but I feel like now is a good time to tell you that I got your spleen back from Ra’s al Ghul.”
“When the fuck did you lose your spleen?!” Dick cried into his hands. “How did we not notice that?!”
“Really,” Tim gasped at Danny, turning to him with heart-eyes. “That’s so hot.”
“Ew,” Steph gagged to herself. “Keep it in your pants.”
Tim just stuck his tongue out at her as Danny kissed him on the cheek.
“Back up,” Bruce grunted, drawing everyone’s attention. “Tim why didn’t you tell anyone this?”
Tim just raised a brow and gestured around the table.
“First of all, when does anyone tell anyone anything?” There were quiet murmurings of agreement that Tim ignored, “second of all, I didn’t think that it was relevant.”
“Dude, you’ve been living without your spleen for almost four years. I think medical information like that is pretty important,” Duke cast him a glance.
“Dr. Thompkins knows. She gives me antibiotics.”
“That’s what those pills were?” Steph exclaimed. “I thought you were finally medicating your ADHD.”
“Steph, I’ve literally been on Adderall since before I became Robin.”
“Oh my god, that explains so much,” Dick gasped to himself.
“Tch. So you’re saying that Drake has killed more than either Todd or me by simply exploding a few League bases? That simply can not be right.”
“Well, I didn’t say that’s all he did…” Danny trailed off, ignoring Tim’s betrayed look.
“Danny I told you that in confidence.”
“Told him what?” Bruce was almost afraid to ask.
“Jason’s kill count is lower than it is because Bruce doesn’t know about some. Tim’s file doesn’t have a kill count.”
The table looked horrified as they realized what that meant.
“How many people have you killed!!” Bruce’s eyes were wider than the plates Tim wanted to smash over his boyfriend’s head.
“Uhh, I plead the fifth?” Tim tried for a smile but was sure it came out more as a grimace.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were cool,” Jason complained, shooting Tim a look of respect.
“Nightingale, if you had to compare Todd and I to Drake, how much darker is his…aura, as you’ve called it.”
Danny, with the feeling only a little shit little sibling knows, lets a mischievous grin spread across his face. He even let it grow to an unnatural size despite Tim’s warning look.
“Why don’t I just show you?”
Danny allowed his transformation to overtake him, his color palette and clothes changing as he let the darkness surrounding the family of vigilantes become visible to mortal eyes.
They all watched in real-time as a black and dark green aura surrounded everyone at the table at varying intensities. Duke, Cass, and Steph’s auras were the least prominent, only slightly there and only a dark forest green around them.
Dick’s aura was darker, with more black within the green. Bruce was half black and half green, flickering together like flames. Jason’s was about 75% black with pops of green spread throughout. Damian’s was almost all black with small spots of green-like stars. Each aura was taller and thicker than the last as the kill counts grew. Damian’s brushed against the tall ceiling.
But everyone turned to look at Tim. Tim who’s aura was like a void, utterly black without even a hint of green. It surrounded him like a thick cloak, almost like Batman’s cape, and pooled on the floor around his chair, and its height hit the ceiling before bending over.
“What the fuck,” Jason muttered, face slack as the overwhelming darkness curled over Tim almost protectively.
“Hmm,” Tim hummed, taking in the void surrounding him before looking back at Danny. “It kinda looks like you, sweetheart.”
“Aww,” Danny smiled adoringly. “You’re so sweet, darling.”
“How could that possible look like Danny?” Steph questioned. She eyed her aura with a raised brow.
“When he’s in his eldritch form, of course.”
“His what form?!”
“Oh, did I not tell you about that? You at least know about the ghost king thing, right?”
“I think I’m going to pass out.”
“Bruce, no!”