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There’s mystery in the air.
Which, coming from the Robin, partner to The Batman, certainly isn’t new. Following gangs closely throughout Gotham, reading hundreds of routing numbers, and staying up until 1am scrolling through camera footage were an integral part of some cases.
But for this Case? Dick can tell, it's busywork. Meant to keep his paws on the ground tonight. Following Bob “Candy” Bishop, a trafficker whom Dick finds on video sat outside a gas station with his buddy called Buddy- facial match pending- sobbing over the bullying he faced as a child. Candy was the head of a trafficking business in the Narrows taking shifters out of Gotham to Blud and the wider States. Still unnamed, but the victims bodies are found labeled with a circled B on the side. They’re cruel, sell shifters to buyers who send them into the system, but adamantly anti-racist. Got put in jail overnight for punching a police officer over an unjust detainment of a black twenty year old(who was found out to be a Cat. The finest irony. Karma).
Bruce had reviewed this extensively. They exhausted all avenues relating to Candy, and Buddy had disappeared into the abyss after Candy’s base of operations was raided by the police. Candy is in prison, and they caught another five of his guys within two weeks of that arrest. Why is Bruce having him look at this months later? But Bruce left this with him, saying he’s taking to the snowy- snowy! Because it's snowing tonight- streets alone. While Dick is still B’s ears and glad he could give Alfred a night off Candy’s case is clear. For the past two hours Dick dug into Candy’s associates, reviewed his interrogation footage, the file, and double checked the shattered remains of Candy’s organization.
The absence of evidence did not mean there was not any, but Dick sighs and pushes back from the Batcomputer. Tapping his ear, “B, I don’t think there’s much left to explore with this Candy guy.” He frowns, kicking the ground to send him into a circle, “why’d you actually want me to look more into him?”
Batman’s com makes its high pitched ping! “You will see,” Bruce’s smallest smirk is present in his voice, and Dick freezes.
Slowly looking back at the Batcomputer screen, he raises a brow, “B, what does that mean?”
“It’s snowing,” Batman responds, a deep, lowered voice with a growl, and a smirk. That’s still there. Confirmed.
Dick’s jaw drops. Bruice smiles, Bruce smirks, and Batman frowns.
Mischief. He determines. Bruce is up to something.
He huffs, staring up at the screen, “it is snowing, and it's a quiet night,” Dick crosses his arms, “you know I love the snow, and we knew it’d snow tonight, but you sideline me?”
Loud taps of Alfred’s heels echo from his left as Bruce responds, “I’m on my way back, you should head off for the night.” Same tone, same poorly hidden smirk. Dick just looks to the side, smiling and waving at Alfred as he reaches the bottom step. The old man’s eyes curl up, proceeding forward. Bruce’s mischief is mysterious. Odd.
“He is correct, young master,” Alfred jumps in, “it is late, and we have a big day tomorrow.”
The youngest eyes narrow, “you’re in on this, Alfred?” In response, Alfred’s steps only quicken towards Dick, and he can spot the laughing gleam Alfred is attempting to hide, “it is a surprise for you, afterall.”
Dick jumps out of the bat-chair towards Alfred, “and it's tomorrow?!”
Alfred nods, failing to hide his amusement, the sheer excitement sparkling in his eyes. The man’s shoulders seem light, and Dick swears Batman is still smirking.
This is something good, a glow rises inside Dick’s chest, bright, soft as a sheep, like a kid poking their head inside the tent for the first time. Anticipation fills his breath as he chippers a bye to Bruce and Alfred, shrugs his coat off onto the hangers, and dashes up the stairs. Something good will happen tomorrow, it will be because a mischievous Alfred is involved. Something good to start off December.
That’d be nice.
Dick was, in fact, right, and Alfred’s cheeky trend is proven to be a very reliable indicator of something good.
In addition to the two acres of land in front of the manor, the back holds another ten acres. Bruce’s property line runs all the way back into a forest of trees that tower over Gotham, most sitting naked from the frost. It’s an absolute sea of trees, dense brush with fallen trees, and new saplings sprinkling the forest floor. Dick’s spent days out there, scaling the forest, chasing mice, and making it his own over the past two years(his favorite season was winter for the lack of mud). While it extends further outside what Bruce owns, today Alfred deemed it a rule that Dick remains within 5 acres of the manor.
That’s alright, Dick can think of a dozen hiding spots within that range, and seven more ways to throw Bruce off his trail. Still, Dick hasn’t explored every aspect of it, versus Bruce who has.
But he has one massive advantage. The one part of the forest that is inaccessible to B. Once Alfred, their referee, had finished reading the rules, Dick shifted, blood racing through his tight muscles as the world tripled in size. Light weight, fluffy paws hit the snow silently, and Dick made sure to cackle at Bruce, whose four legs were swallowed by the snow instantly, before galloping off. Reaching the closest tree, Dick had dug his claws in tight and bolted up the bark.
At the point of the tree where it sways just a little, he spared a second to bark down and wave his bushy tail at the now cup sized Bruce. Who, Dick believed, is not amused with how his cut pizza shaped ears turned out.
A Wolf won’t be able to follow a Marten in the trees.
Cackling one last time, he kicked off and grappled onto the next-door pine. Navigating around the branches and pines, his burgundy coat fused with the trunk, and within a minute Dick knew he’d disappeared from sight.
After the thirty minute hiding period, Dick will avoid Bruce for three hours. Alfred will be by Bruce’s side to spectate and determine if Bruce has successfully and reasonably spotted Dick. The hardest part will be avoiding Bruce’s nose, but the trees certainly are very good for keeping that far from B. Although, not the most sustainable. Breathing heavily, twenty minutes into tree hopping Dick scurries down to the forest floor, retracing his claws and putting his pointed snout to the ground.
Over winter the rodents retreat to the snow, creating hundreds of tunnels beneath the snow to escape the frost and create sanctuary. Unfortunately for them, Dick’s small form is perfect to slide into them and traverse through the complex system. Another important way to lose Bruce’s nose. His tail twitches, picking up a very faint smell- Dick’s face wrinkles. The sickening smell of ammonia. It’s scat. But that means mice. Pondering along the trail he twists his ears, hearing a faint huff a short distance away.
Something is underneath the snow nearby. Dick taps his paws, doing a little dance, perfect! Following the trail Dick kicks up snow and fans his tail to cover up his paw prints, then leaving his snout flush with the snow. Crawling over a log and diving into thick brush, he squints his eyes, pressing his body down, carefully shuffling beneath the worst of the foliage. Going around a stick, then going around a rock, there’s a louder huff. He stomps, sniffing, and gagging- it’s tearing into his nose. He shakes his head and takes a hard right. The mice hole should be nearby here, and that stench will hide his scent extremely well.
Lifting his head, Dick there’s another much rounder rock with green speckled leaves stuck to it, and no lumps in the snow. Twisting again- Dick’s breath catches, stopping mid-step.
There’s a pair of sky blue orbs the size of Dick’s head, sitting on a shiny snout mottled in browns and dark greens, with two little bronze nubs extending outwards from its round head. It stares, still and head resting on the snow, oval ears drooping down. Barely visible is an oblong neck that fades into a light gray with green sat on top.
The rock.
Dick doesn’t move.
If he shifts he’d be bigger than it, he could try to make it to the mouse hole, and there’s a tree just a few feet behind him. How fast is it? Its mouth is the size of his tail. If he couldn’t move fast enough it could snap him in half.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Bruce is close enough to hear him, if Dick kept screaming he’d be found. And he isn’t far from their starting point, they could make it- maybe he wouldn’t bleed out.
What even is it?! Dick watches his peripheral, taking in the edge of that large, round rock-thats-not-really-a-rock.
Tensing, Dick extends his claws. Its face texture reminds him of an alligator, and that continues all down his neck. On its nose is a little, round crest, then the jaw pieces together like a puzzle piece with no visible teeth.
It doesn’t look real. Reptilians are the only connection his mind curates.
Wait.
A glossy, transparent eyelid glides left to right over the sharp pupils.
Dick’s hackles rise and the dragon jumps. Tucking his tail to the side Dick fumbles away screeching, and it moves backwards, body lifting with a thunderous sound and puffing up. Head held high, its jaw gapes open- Dick shouts in fury, puffing up- and out comes a ragged, child-like squeak.
A mouse squeak. Came from this dragon's jaw.
After, its large claws turn the other way, widen eyes staring down, attempting to look big and scary after the pitiful attempt. But, it’s tense, pulled together, and clearly shivering. Dick lifts his ears, and its eyes finally look away, form trembling as it scampers from the bush with a half-tucked tail.
Tilting his head Dick sniffs the air- and spits out his tongue. That stench is ill. Huffing, Dick steps forward into the patch with broken sticks and fallen leaves. Treading a few more steps, he steps down inside one of the footprints. Staring with wonder as it dwarfs his form.
Woah.
An real dragon-
----
Jason stumbles through high steps to step in front of Dick, “Woah- wait, hold up,” his wool covered arms shoot out to the sides as he hisses, “you’re telling me you meant a dragon? A real fucking dragon?!”
Dick’s grin is punchable as he chirps out, “yes!” He laughs, the hood on his head floating momentarily, “In fact,” his eyes curl like a snake, "that's who we are going to meet now!”
Rocks break, crumbling to ashes within Jason’s stomach. “What.”
Cackles flit through the air, piercing Jason’s ears.
When Jason had been told Dick would be returning home for the winter’s first snow right after the man had left for Bludhaven with a slammed door there’d been suspicion. Alfred mentioned the family had a minor tradition. The winter first snow of the year they’d travel outwards onto Wayne property and settle atop a peak of the hill where a minor clearing resided. Then Bruce had mentioned this snow storm had been an impulsive decision from an unexpected drop in temperature. Therefore, Jason rescinded his suspicion.
Then Dick came home with a smirk full of shit. The next twelve hours Jason made cookies and didn’t touch his books trying to figure out what Dick was doing. What was so special about the first snow? Just the fact of their tradition? No way he came back just to spend a tradition with Jason. And he definitely knew somehow Bruce and Alfred hadn’t mentioned the fact that a Real Dragon- fuck- lived out in the woods.
He pulls into himself, pulling the woolen coat further shut, “and all you said was ‘woah?’”
The laughter pauses and Dick puffs his chest out, “Excuse me, I’d just almost been eaten! I was about to be dinner!” Dick reaches forward, placing a freezing hand on Jason’s head, wiping off a piece of snow, “and when Bruce got there I screamed with joy! Told them all about the dragon I’d just met!”
Jason hums, sarcasm dripping from it partnered with a raised brow.
From behind Dick, Alfred brushes a bush out of the way, “Master Dick overexaggerates,” the butler clarifies, “the dragon was a toddler, and once we had reached the young master he was in tears and shivering. His shout of glee was from seeing us approach.” Dick’s quiet hey! entered nobody's ears. Nope. Jason even stopped his playful snort and kept his eyes on Alfred as the butler trekked forward, two hands on the pack hanging off his shoulders, “once Master Dick had calmed, he realized the dragon had been scared, and Master Bruce tracked them down.”
Alfred stops, turning and their eyes gently meet. His are full of bubbles, more gentle than blankets and mattresses, “Quickly, we discovered the dragon could understand English.” Jason’s breath catches, that voice flitters with light, “they are a shifter who had gotten separated from their Mother. I had offered them one of the sandwiches we prepared, and we all sat and waited until the Dragonet heard their Mother.”
Dick steps around Jason, waving a hand in front of his face, “Bruce noticed during that time the little one seemed too skinny, so Alfred started leaving out food every so often for the dragon.” The hand slowly made its way to Jason’s shoulder, a gentle smile taking up Dick’s expression. “The next winter on the first snow, we met little Rex again. Every year we go out in case they come out to join our picnic."
Jason bites back a laugh, “Rex-?! That’s their name?”
“Nick-name,” Bruce’s low rumble spoke from ahead, leading with what is almost a skip in his step, “Rex has never shifted out of their form with us.” The monotone voice illuminates the leaves, and Jason could almost hear a smile, “but since we met them many years ago, Rex has yet to miss meeting us in our clearing, and they have been consistently taking Alfred’s food offerings once he leaves.”
Bruce’s speech doesn’t end there. Apparently Rex adores the stars, stumbled into hundreds of trees, and can breathe fire despite being extremely cold. Anytime Alfred brings out a phone they are immediately by the man’s side the entire time. Bruce compared it to when Jason gets roped into his books, Dick adds in their enjoyment of chasing squirrels. Baskets leaving food were always dressed in jewelry or blankets were returned until a letter they left insisted otherwise. They could read. Bruce brings his pocket dictionary full of long, confusing words every year. Rex won’t approach unless they’re all shifted, besides Alfred, the Dragonet had realized early Alfred was a human.
Jason comes to the conclusion that Rex is phantasmal and horrifying. Somehow, the Wayne’s have a dragon hybrid who comes to their picnics with them once a year. One that makes Bruce smile and Dick skip through snow (he ate lots of snow today. A lot). That’s something Jason read inside the library, a fairy tale told to babies, not something from real life. He’s not really sure how to feel about that, or that they didn’t mention this until now. Did they think he’d be scared?
He.. is not completely scared. Dragons are cool, and if he could take pictures this would be the flex of a lifetime.
Being dragged ahead, Dick guides Jason into a goose white clearing with a squint at the flood of sunlight. Shaking Dick’s hand off his arm, he slows behind. Dick does not, shifting and bounding forward like a baby deer. Looking back, Bruce is taking off his puffer jacket, dancing through the motion without pause. Finally, Alfred takes said jacket from the man with a minor, but radiant smile reaching his eyes.
They are all happy. Ecstatic to see Rex. The energy wading through the air would bloom flowers.
His breath catches, eyes widening, eyes shooting from Dick, to Alfred, to Bruce, to Dick, and breathlessness climbs into his lungs.
Oh.
One hand comes up to squeeze the esoteric peridot hung from his neck.
No wonder Dick came back. Jason would do the same.
----
Alfred had observed a rattle in the woods around forty minutes into their fifty-three minute trip.
Rex followed them from a safe distance. If he had to presume, hesitant from Master Jason’s presence. Understandably so. Alfred didn’t mention their presence. It’s best they get to know Master Jason on their own grounds and approach when comfortable. They had never brought anyone besides the three from their first encounter. New things were scary for little ones, it takes time most days.
Well, Alfred’s hand glides over the box in his pocket, something else was new this year too. A lot of change had occurred. More than anyone could’ve imagined. Jason came home, magical stones, The Justice League, and aliens. From the side Master Bruce pulls his coat off and Alfred accepts it, folding it quickly and hanging it from his arm. Truthfully, what’s a little more change? The yearly theme seems to be that.
“Did you notice our tail?” Alfred asks.
Master Bruce pauses, eyes scanning the forest behind them, “four minutes ago,” Alfred feels pride, and Bruce continues, “they stepped on a stick. A fair distance away, and froze after that. Jason-” Bruce’s eyes glance backwards, “shift. Rex is nervous.” Without pause, both gleam, shimmer like a star, and two fluffy wolves left in their places.
“..Does that mean Rex is here?” Master Jason’s voice echoes, flickering and shaking.
Alfred nods, “they arrived sometime ago,” He thinks through the green gemstone.
Master Dick yowls from the top of the hill, “you’re telling me they’re behind us?!” It shatters their magical threshold, voice exploding into their ears. He flips his form, tripping into a bed of frost.
Meanwhile, Master Bruce’s head was raised, neck stiff, and ears pointed towards one miniature patch of thick brush mushed in between two trees. Alfred steps forward, adjusting his tie with a hand, “Stay back momentarily, I shall introduce Master Rex to Master Jason.”
Reaching down he pats Master Bruce on the head, “you have naught to worry about,” Alfred whispers, “the young masters will be alright,” his hand holds until Bruce’s ear flicks, body softening ever so slightly.
Good.
A few feet away from the brush and underneath a tree's canopy, Alfred crouches down. Pulling the sack from his back, he settles it atop the snow and takes a small breath, “Master Rex, it is wonderful to hear from you. As you can spot, we have an extra joining us this year- this is Master Jason.” Alfred’s head turns towards the pup covered in bits of breaking gray fur, “hi..?” Jason thinks to Alfred, head ducking and tail lightly wagging, “I’m Jason, and I’ve only known about you for an hour, but dragons are really cool!”
Alfred hums, “he cannot hear you young master, but,” pausing, he turns back to the brush, spotting two iridescent sky blue eyes. “Jason says hello, and that you are “really cool.” Jason’s head lifts up slightly, eyes gleaming. “He’s twelve years old, and a gray wolf, just like Master Bruce.”
There’s a small shake of the leaves, and Alfred takes it as a response. “Happy holidays, young one. I speak for all of us when we say we are overjoyed to have you join us once more. This year I attempted a new variation of the beef stew-” Master Rex’s scaled head emerges from the brush, licking their snout, “And I have the pumpkin pie slice especially for you.” The dragonet chitters, tingling like a windchime.
“Why do they sound like Tinkerbell?” Jason tacks on.
The butler grins, “Master Jason is kind, he once helped me take a grasshopper outside of our garage.” Dick’s laughter engraved a patch into their skulls, and Rex did a little huff- their laugh. They shuffle forward, newly yellow-red scales blending like paint into the dark camo greens and browns.
“The Masters’ would like to properly greet you, if that’s alright.” Rex stops, eyes widening, staring into Alfred’s soul, “Master Dick has missed you immensely, and Master Jason would love to get to know you.” They ruffle their noise, glancing to the left to stare at Jason who, ultimately, just keeps his tail wagging. Looking back to Alfred, Rex nods.
He waves to Jason, “come, it is time,” Master Jason grits his teeth, freezing at that- “oh crap-” , and loosens his jaw. Hesitantly sliding forward, Jason kept his head to the ground and avoided all eye contact- communication was always an issue in these forms. Always consisting of variable, interpretable body language. Luckily, Jason was just like Bruce, and Rex knows Bruce.
It does not surprise Alfred when the dragonet trembles out fully, gradually approaching Jason to meet him half way. Now, he can see the red’s and yellow’s bloomed from their chest, all the way towards their bottom jaw and down into the front legs.
“They are as big as I am,” Master Bruce’s voice melts, bleeding with disbelief.
Alfred presses his lips together, “They are a growing dragon Master Bruce.” He lets his voice rise a little, looking away momentarily to watch Bruce’s approach.
It's not big for a dragon, but massive for your usual animal shifters. Last winter Rex could barely reach Bruce’s shoulders as a wolf. This time, Master Bruce almost looks small. Master Jason certainly does. Impressive, yet Alfred eyes caught on the boney spine, a thin wagging tail, and defined hip-bones. Still too small.
Master Jason stopped a few steps ago, sticking out his nose and pausing before sniffing. “They don’t smell bad?” He questions, tilting his head. Rex tilts theirs the opposite way.
“They had been ill at the time,” Dick clarifies, “Rex has never smelled bad since then!”
With trepidation, Rex itches forward, nose slowly tapping Jason’s. The smaller’s tail frantically waves, “hi!” Jason repeats, “you are not actually from a story book. I know it. But they call you Rex? Did you ask them to call you that?” The boy rambles, and Alfred can see the nervousness- Jason’s rambling and Rex’s tremble. All in all, they’re curious, fascinated, and young.
Rex lets out a small chaaa, “Now you sound like a squrriel” Jason comments, whining back at the dragonet. They clack their teeth and tail waving, copying Jason.
To the side Master Bruce prowls forward, passing by Alfred’s shoulder. He reaches out, gently tapping the wolf's shoulder and pointing up. There in the canopy sat Dick, claws out, attached to an extremely white branch with a mischievous grin. He applies a bit of backwards pressure on Master Bruce’s leg, he definitely doesn’t want to be devoured by snow. Nor Alfred. Bruce concedes, sitting down to become a spectator.
The two kids tap noses again, Jason still babbling about the dragon’s different vocalizations, and shrieking when Rex's second eyelids move. They’re the perfect distractions for each other, and Dick’s laugh rattles the air, sitting on his back two legs then jumping forward! The branch trembles, snow shifting off, rippling and collapsing down like a waterfall, and the two below squeal. Rex jumps over Jason, spreading his wings to cover the wolf, taking the brunt of the miniature avalanche.
Jason barks, ears pinned as he stares aghast at the dragon, “are you okay-?!” Rex chir-chir-chirs, shaking his head and sending snow flying. Huffing, they both look up towards the little marten in the tree.
“This is war!” Jason stares up into the trees at the chittering, mischievous critter. Alfred sees the two younger masters exchange a glance, Rex taking their tail to smack it into the snow, then looking back at the Marten with a small nod.
“I wish you luck, Master Dick.”
----
The marten twitches his tail, tension tingling in his paws, curled up in a ball underneath the snow.
Dick absolutely expected the two to team up against him. The second he saw the branches above them it was a no brainer, both Rex and Jason would find it a wonderful ice breaker. Spending the day bolting up bark just out of their reach Dick decided was the perfect way to spend this meetup. And expected! Rex loved their snowy battles previously, and Jason seems like the type of kid who loves racing about in the snow.
He was correct, or at least, correct to play into the mischievous portion of their personalities. Muscles sore, he had to take cover underneath the snow from the raging rain of their freezing revenge and definitely not an escape. He had run beside a tree Rex hid with, slamming down a snow-valance that drowns Dick’s form as soon as he appeared to the dragonet’s vision. Hence his current situation, where-in he dug down to escape further ambush.
“Missed meeee,” he sings through his mind, absolutely smug and lying, “you guys missed me! Ha!”
Jason grumbles back, “I SAW that! We got you head on!” Dick laughs in his head, ears sitting high, pointing towards Rex’s playful chirps. “We got ‘im good!” The pup huffs out, “you did amazing!” It’s directed at Rex, who hasn’t stopped their quiet would-be laugher.
Clicking his teeth, Dick’s claws embrace the snow and shovel it back. “You doubt me so!” He feigns a feinting, sarcastic voice, “I’m very known to weasel my way around places I should not be!” Jason had never seen his snow-shoveling enjoyment. Alfred hasn’t had to call in services for years to do the(front) drive-way in years because of Dick! Now is no exception, claws scooping up and kicking the snow off to the side.
The hole is small, but there is plenty of room to wiggle! Slowly, he digs his way back towards the surface. Listening to Jason’s mindless chatter about them winning.
Pfft, if only they knew. Dick had the cruelest of tricks down his sleeves.
With newfound energy he dug at the snow faster, pretending to be a worm and zigzagging to throw Jason and Rex’s ears off. At the same time he perks his ears, following their steps from underneath the snow as Jason taps in morse code. Which good idea, if Dick wasn’t able to hear his feet or the fact that Rex probably doesn’t know morse code.
Reaching a few feet off from where they’re standing, he bites back a giggle and pokes his head out. Jason’s writing on the snow, drawing out a picture and Rex sits with their back to Dick.
Perfect! Dick gives a mischievous grin, holding back any laughter and disappears back into the snow.
It takes just a minute to get to Rex, just beneath the snow. Where they sit it's warmer, the snow is soft, heated by their mere presence. He can’t help the snicker. It's perfect.
So he locates Rex’s claws, the front two specifically, and digs out a miniature trench around them. It takes a few minutes, but the dragonet doesn’t shift. “Hey, Jason, you’ve been quiet.” He speaks to their connection.
Jason’s voice peeks in, “obviously, we’re busy celebrating our victory!” He laughs loudly, “we are dancing in a circle currently! The war is over! It’s been days!”
Dick snorts, “It's only been an hour and a half.”
His brother wails, “days, Rex! Days!”
The marten shimmies closer to the first pillar of snow beneath, “are you sure of that?” He asks, very ominously on purpose, it's warranted, and Jason doesn’t get to respond before Dick kicks down one of the pillars.
Rex cries, the sound vibrating through the air as their claw sinks into the snow. Quickly Dick skitters the opposite way, frantically racing through his exit tunnel with a cackle. "Rex!” Jason shouts as Dick reaches his exit point. Scrambling out, he looks back to the two and Jason is at Rex’s side, still attempting to find out what happened.
“Hehehehe,” Dick tip toes towards the nearest tree, ignoring Jason’s cries of how this is not over!
This went on for another hour, and Dick shall never admit to his devastating loss. But all he had was the thick layer of snow and the trees, all of which offered distance, and with little paws there wasn’t much distance. On the ground Rex and Jason caught up with no issue. He had to be so sneaky, and they had to find some way to get through their communication barrier.
It was sweet.
And speaking of sweet- Alfred’s cookies. That he didn’t make because Jason and Bruce were staying as wolves. They cut the snow war short to trickle over to the picnic mat where Alfred was already laying out their meal, Dick arriving first because Rex and Jason were tumbling around in the snow. Rex being ever careful as always, and Jason being as big and heavy as possible.
Opposites attract, and maybe another connection might bring Rex home soon.
—-
Bruce knows that Rex has been out here for over 5 years now.
Bruce knows Rex is skinny, clearly underweight even without the minimal information he’s discovered about dragons.
The sky’s painted with pinks and oranges: It’s sunset. They’ll be departing soon to their heated home, retreating to the Cave and beginning a late patrol. All of them will be there, together, and rest atop a mattress covered in more blankets than they could ever use.
Bruce knows that Rex always departs in a different direction despite their meeting space remaining the same for multiple years. Do they return to a warm den?
Out of understanding for Rex, they are still shifted during dinner and remains one of the only times Alfred allows the such. Rex is given a large portion, taking any extra dragon-dietary friendly parts prepared. An absolute necessity, because clearly they were not eating an appropriate diet even with the monthly cache’s left out for the dragonet. Today included, as Alfred prepared an extras basket specifically for Rex to leave with.
With the factoids Bruce is able to piece together the conclusion that the Dragonet is abandoned.
For the opposing argument when they meant initially Bruce had heard another dragon, and there haven’t been any reported incidents of dragon shifters passing or missing on the east coast. There would be enough prey in this forest to feed a dragon and their child, yet any evidence of prey cease to exist. Which gives confirmation that they live in Gotham.
Of course, this could be solved if Rex could communicate with them.
“Thank ya’ for the food, Alfred!” Jason’s thinks while chewing
Alfred huffs back, “It is appreciated, but please don’t talk with your mouth full, Master Jason.”
The young pup lifts his head from his plate, a small grin on his jaw still in the middle of a bite, “But I’m not eve’ talkin’! How can ya tell?”
Raising a Marten as a Wolf had left communication barriers within their forms. Their body language and vocalizations varied greatly, and there was little overlap of their vocal chords to create similar sounds. With how Dick enjoyed spending half his week with four legs, these miscommunications discouraged Dick from being shifted which simply was not ideal, so Bruce found a solution. Being Batman and Bruce Wayne meant he knew people, and those with magic could perform petrifying feats.
It took him years to ask Zatanna if there’d be any way with magic to communicate in these other forms. Fortunately for Bruce, it took Zatanna four days to create their gemstones.
Recently, he had paid her another visit.
Finishing up his plate, Bruce's eyes drift behind Alfred towards Jason digging, Dick bolting away, and Rex hidden behind their wings from Jason’s onslaught of snow.
“Is it time?” He whispers, perhaps only Alfred will hear it.
Dick pauses his run, head twisting towards Bruce, “time for what?” The response guarantees the whisper is absolutely for everyone’s ears, and Jason pauses, locking onto the same as his brother.
Bruce spots Alfred’s small smile, “I suppose it is time,” he speaks steady, absolutely sure. Bruce slides one of his paws along the snow. “Master Rex,” Alfred calls, and the dragonet pokes their head from behind their wing, “can you come here? We have a surprise for you.”
Rex glows, sparkling like fireflies and chirps with glee. Prancing until they reach Alfred and settle half-way towards the ground, trying to look small being close to Alfred.
That’s no good, they’re insecure. Why did they get so small?
He steps forward, tilting his head towards Alfred, “can I?”
Alfred’s face overcomes with a lighting shock, before fading back to a smile and taking the question in stride, “It is something important to everyone here, and Master Bruce desired to get a gift for you this year that was not the usual meal.” He pauses, short for others, but Bruce adjusts his other leg, staring intently, “He was wondering if you were comfortable with him shifting back to present it to you?”
Rex’s body tenses, pupils becoming overtaken with a sea of white and raising their wings- comfortable to defensive and scared.
Humming, Alfred takes a hold of the silence, “we understand if you are not comfortable with that, you are okay to say no, Master Bruce will not mind.”
Bruce adverts his eyes, keeping them onto Rex’s extended claws. Perhaps they will be comfortable, perhaps they won’t, he just hopes they stay.
One muted minute passes, then they get to seventy four seconds, then seventy five, seventy six, seventy seve- Rex heaves out a loud breath, and Bruce sees the reflection of fire on Rex’s scales.
But he doesn’t move. Rex stays.
Alfred speaks to confirm, “Rex said yes, Master Bruce,” after the two seconds it takes to register, he pulls himself onto two legs and two arms braced against the wet cold.
Lightly raising his head, Rex’s staring with enormous eyes, and Alfred is holding an enclosed pair of hands out to him. Slow, Bruce reminds himself, arm crawling towards Alfred to retrieve the gift. They keep it out of view, the small chain disappearing into Bruce’s hands.
Perhaps Rex doesn’t live in Gotham, a Dragonet this petrified of people would struggle to live in such a place. Bruce squeezes the cold stone in his hand and takes a deep breath, before extending an open hand forward.
There sits a shimmering necklace, the chain being a soft, golden color, and coming together at the end to hug an outlandish, bright ruby that shifts different shades of red. It was plenty long to slide over Rex’s head, perfect for the little dragonet.
And the dragonets wings fell, head rising and making an owl-like hoot. Bruce holds back a smile, “Hello,” the blue eyes snap to him, “this is for you, little one.” Taking a deep breath, he shoves the rest of the words out, “while it is a stunning necklace befit for a dragon, this one has an extra special ability. It was enchanted by a friend of mine to grant the wearer telepathy towards any connected gemstones.”
Reaching up, Bruce wraps his chain with a finger, pulling it from underneath his shirt and letting the shifting, brilliant diamond hang out in the open. “Alfred, Dick, Jason, and myself all possess one. If we are within a twenty foot radius of each other, we can communicate through our thoughts. And we would like to communicate with you too, Rex.” His voice is soft, floating, and hopefully solid.
Bruce really, really hopes.
And Rex takes a step forward, head tilting and peering down at the gemstone. They seem hesitant, letting their teeth clack together, “there’s no way to track it,” Bruce clarifies, and if Rex had eyebrows they would’ve risen with how their face shifts and he flinches back- with a mad dash Rex gently nips the necklace out of Bruce’s hand, hanging the chain from their nose as they shoot a few feet back trembling.
They take a few deep breaths, eyes shooting between Bruce and Alfred. “I suppose you like it, Master Rex?” Alfred lets a calm settle over the three, holding his hands together, “it is wonderful to hear. It was made just for you, and safe.”
Rex hisses, frantically shaking their head and suddenly stops, staring at the necklace swaying from their noise.
Jason gasps, and Rex flinches, head spinning towards Jason, “can you hear me?!”
Their jaw hangs slowly, gaping at the show of magic.
Dick shrugs over to Jason’s side, gesturing to his own bracelet around his neck, “yeah, that’s about the reaction we both had.” The dragonet’s tail wacks the ground, snorting out air and taking in a long breath.
Bruce lets out a small smile, “it’s certainly a lot,” Rex spins back around, “but, it is wonderful to finally be able to talk with you, Rex.”
They swallow, head slightly rising with a long, heavy breath.
“Tim.”
Someone's voice whispers. Somber and brittle, high pitched like a viola it cracks through Bruce’s head.
“It’s Tim.”