Chapter Text
“Eyes up, Neal,” Peter warned through the comm. “This is not a social call.”
Neal adjusted the cuff of his suit jacket as he stepped into the private members’ club. “Peter,” he said mildly, “when have I ever let my social life interfere with work?”
Diana snorted in the van.
Tonight’s job: get close to a black-market broker moving stolen antiquities through Manhattan. Neal’s task was to slip a tracker into the man’s briefcase before the exchange happened upstairs.
Simple.
Neal had been trained for rooms like this—soft jazz, expensive liquor, too many secrets. Catwoman had raised him on rooftops and in penthouses alike. Balance, grace, misdirection.
And one amused, offhand lesson he’d never forgotten:
Bats always fall for cats.
At the time, Neal had laughed.
Then he’d met Jason Todd.
Neal slid onto a leather couch with a perfect view of the staircase. His mark was at the bar, arguing quietly into his phone.
“Wait for him to move,” Peter instructed.
“I know how stalking works,” Neal murmured.
“Surveillance,” Peter corrected.
Neal’s attention shifted—not to the mark, but to the balcony above.
A figure leaned against the railing, watching him.
Even in civilian clothes, Jason had the stillness of a predator. Black jacket. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.
Neal smiled slowly.
“Well,” Neal said under his breath, “this just got interesting.”
“Problem?” Peter asked immediately.
“Possibly,” Neal replied.
Jason descended the stairs unhurriedly and stopped in front of Neal.
“You’re a long way from Gotham,” Jason said.
“So are you,” Neal returned smoothly.
They stood there a second too long—measuring, remembering.
Years ago, when Jason had first been Robin to Batman, he’d been all sharp edges and stubborn pride. Neal, newly taken under Selina’s wing, had decided immediately that teasing him would be a hobby.
It had started as a game.
A wink here. A brush of fingers there. Jason blushing scarlet while insisting he was immune.
Then Jason had started pushing back—low murmured compliments, stepping into Neal’s space instead of away from it.
The game had escalated.
Then Jason had died.
And Neal had left Gotham with a fractured heart and a suitcase full of regrets.
When Jason came back—different, harder, carrying the weight of resurrection—they hadn’t talked about it.
They’d just picked up where they left off.
“Are you following me?” Neal asked lightly now.
Jason’s jaw twitched. “You wish.”
Neal leaned closer. “Careful. That sounds dangerously close to flirting.”
Jason rolled his eyes—but didn’t step back.
In Neal’s ear, Jones whispered, “Is this guy a problem?”
Peter muttered, “Yes.”
Jason’s gaze shifted subtly toward the bar. “Your guy’s about to head upstairs.”
Neal didn’t look. “You’re helping me?”
“I’m preventing collateral damage.”
“From me?”
“Always from you.”
Neal smiled.
The mark grabbed his briefcase and moved toward the staircase.
Neal rose smoothly. “Duty calls.”
Jason caught his wrist—not roughly, but enough to stop him.
“He’s armed,” Jason said quietly.
Neal tilted his head. “So am I.”
Jason’s grip tightened slightly. “Neal.”
It wasn’t a warning.
It was worry.
Neal softened just a fraction. “I can handle myself.”
“I know,” Jason replied immediately. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
For a moment, the noise of the club faded.
Bats always fall for cats.
But what Selina hadn’t mentioned was how fiercely they guarded what they loved.
“Come with me, then,” Neal said finally.
Jason hesitated—then nodded once.
They moved upstairs together, side by side. Neal created a distraction near the hallway entrance—bumping into a waiter, apologizing profusely, drawing attention.
While security focused on him, Jason slipped behind the mark.
Thirty seconds later, the briefcase was back in the man’s hand—now with a tracker hidden inside the lining.
Seamless.
Neal rejoined Jason near the balcony overlooking the dance floor.
“See?” Neal murmured. “No collateral damage.”
Jason exhaled slowly. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” Neal said softly, stepping closer, “you’re here.”
Jason didn’t deny it.
“Why?” Neal asked, quieter now. “You could’ve stayed in Gotham.”
Jason looked at him for a long moment. “You left.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“It is to me.”
The words landed heavy.
Neal swallowed. “You think I left because I stopped caring?”
Jason’s silence said more than words.
Neal stepped into his space fully now. “I left because every rooftop reminded me of you.”
Jason’s breath hitched—barely noticeable, but Neal felt it.
“You died,” Neal said plainly. “And I didn’t know how to stay in a city that kept pretending you hadn’t.”
Jason’s expression cracked—just slightly.
“I came back,” Jason said.
“I know.”
“And you didn’t.”
“I was afraid,” Neal admitted.
That did it.
Jason surged forward and kissed him.
Not playful. Not teasing.
Years of unresolved tension and almost-confessions poured into it.
Neal responded instantly, hands gripping Jason’s jacket, pulling him closer like he might disappear again.
When they parted, both breathing harder, Jason rested his forehead against Neal’s.
“You’re still mine,” Jason murmured before he could stop himself.
Neal’s lips curved faintly. “Bats,” he whispered, “always fall for cats.”
Jason huffed a soft, breathless laugh. “Shut up.”
Neal brushed his thumb along Jason’s jaw. “Make me.”
Jason kissed him again—shorter this time, but just as certain.
Downstairs, Peter’s voice was escalating in Neal’s abandoned earpiece.
Neal pulled back reluctantly. “I should go before my handler has a coronary.”
Jason nodded, though his hand lingered at Neal’s waist.
“Come home,” Jason said quietly.
Neal studied him. Gotham. Rooftops. Selina. The bats.
Jason.
“Maybe,” Neal said softly. “When my deal’s done.”
Jason searched his face, then accepted it with a small nod.
Neal stepped away first.
Halfway down the stairs, he glanced back.
Jason was still watching him.
Some things, Neal knew, never changed.
He made it back to the van to a storm of questions.
“Who was that?” Diana asked immediately.
Neal smiled faintly. “An old partner.”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “From where?”
Neal leaned back in his seat, gaze drifting briefly toward the city skyline.
“Gotham,” he said.
Jones blinked. “As in Batman Gotham?”
Neal shrugged lightly. “As in home.”
Peter stared at him.
Neal only smiled.
After all—
Cats may wander.
But bats?
Bats always find their way back to them.