Work Text:
It was two in the afternoon, and the phone was ringing.
Jeannette rolled over and said, sleepily, “Floyd, dear, answer the phone.”
“Can't.” Floyd didn't even budge. “'m in the middle. 's Tomcat's phone, make him answer it.”
“Thomas, dear, answer the phone.”
Thomas groaned and worked himself into a seated position, snagging the ringing phone from the nightstand. “'lo?” He paused. “Good,” checked the clock, “afternoon, Batman.”
Floyd and Jeannette lifted their heads, startled. They looked at Thomas, then at each other, and then, together, their eyes tracked down Thomas' chest and stomach to his lap, to keep an eye out for any visible reaction.
Thomas ignored them. “I was sleeping. ...cats and bats are both nocturnal, shouldn't you be in bed too?” He lowered the phone for a moment. “He says, hello, Floyd.”
Floyd started to raise an eyebrow—
“And not to make that face.” He raised the phone again. “I don't know where you got the idea that I work for—oh. ...forty. ..way too low, thirty-eight plus expenses. ...I'm not going any lower than twenty-eight. ...wait, you want me working with that guy? Yeah, no, thirty-five or fuck you. ...wait, what?”
His tone was suddenly so...odd that the other two stopped watching his lap entirely.
“Say that again.”
As they watched, Thomas started to smile.
“You need my expertise.”
Jeannette blinked.
“Are you actually admitting that I'm better than you at something?” Thomas was smirking now. “Yes, all right, thirty-three plus expenses is acceptable, but only because you said that. ...boku wa nihon-go-ga sukoshi hanasemasu. ...hm? Right, yes, I'll tell him that.” He lowered the phone and looked over at Floyd. “You don't get to come.”
Floyd snorted. “Don't think I can after last night. Fresh out.”
Thomas rolled his eyes as he lifted the phone back to his ear. “Yes, all right, I'll be there. Yes, I'll hurry. Goodbye, Batman.”
Once he'd put the phone down, Jeannette said, “So are congratulations in order?”
“Hardly.” He fell back against the pillows, sighing. “Need to pack my things. Going to Japan this afternoon. The jet lag's going to kill me.”
--
Three in the afternoon, and Jason Todd rolled over in bed and grabbed his phone from the crate he used as a nightstand. “What.”
“Good afternoon, Jason—”
“Fuck you.” He hung up the phone and did not throw it across the room—he'd already had to buy a new phone once this week.
It rang again. Same number. He stared at it for a moment, sighed, and answered. “What do you want, Bruce?”
“I need you to go to Japan and find a fourteen-year-old boy.”
“Expanding the collection?”
“Hardly. He's the new Toyman.”
“A kid?”
No response.
“Yeah, ok, fine. Why me?”
“He's hiding in an abandoned amusement park. I've already hired a tracker but your mechanical skills will be helpful.”
“You're sticking me with a sidekick?”
“A partner, Jason. Not a sidekick.”
“Who?”
“Thomas Blake.”
“...you want me to work with Catman? This is a joke, right?”
There was another ominous lack of response.
“Sometimes I really hate you.”
“Dick will also be with you.”
“What? Why?”
“PR control. And to make sure you don't permanently incapacitate your target.”
“He's a criminal.”
“He's fourteen.”
“I was pretty fuckin' dangerous when I was fourteen.”
“Be at the Gotham Airport in an hour. Dick will meet you there with the jet.”
“Fuck you.”
“Jason...”
“All right already. Airport in an hour. Look for smug asshole with good hair.”
--
Thomas didn't speak to his companions until they got into their train compartment at the station in Tokyo. “So who's the target?”
Jason snorted. “He didn't tell you?”
Thomas shrugged. “He told me how much me he'd pay me.”
“Wait, he's paying you?”
“He's not paying you?” Thomas smirked. “Wow. They say Bat loyalty is legendary, but I figured that didn't go far beyond the grave.”
“...that was low.”
“Were you expecting me to fight fair? Arrow Junior doesn't talk back a ton, does he?”
“Boys. Boys. Don't fight.” Dick was rummaging in a suitcase, and hadn't even looked up at them. “You're both very handsome, dangerous young men and your mother and I love you both very much.”
That was weird enough to shut both of them up.
“Here, this is the file.” He handed Thomas a slim manila folder. “Kid's name is Hiro Nakamura. No relation.”
Thomas accepted the folder, frowning. “No relation to who? Is this some kind of Bat joke?”
Jason shrugged. “I don't get it either.”
Now Dick looked at them—he glanced at first one uncomprehending face, and then the other, and then buried his head in his hands. “I'm trapped in a small train compartment with two uncultured thugs.”
Thomas was flipping through the file. “I'm not a thug. Don't know if I can say the same about him. ...this kid's case record is very impressive, but he shouldn't be hard to track. So what's our actual destination?”
“Takakakonuma Greenland, in Date City. It's been abandoned for years now but there's been recent unusual activity. Batman tracked Nakamura's machines back to there; apparently he's been suing it as a base. You've seriously never seen Heroes?”
“That's a show, right?” Thomas shrugged. “I don't watch television.”
Jason groaned. “I don't even know why I'm here.”
“Because when the Bat says jump, you still say when, where, and how high?”
“Fuck you, Pussycat.”
“You're not really my type, and I'm seeing someone.”
Dick groaned. “This is going to be a long trip.”
--
The amusement park gate was chained shut, and Dick couldn't get the locks open. Thomas didn't even try, and finally Jason rolled his eyes and said, “You were always shit with locks when they weren't on you. Shove over.”
He had the lock open in ten seconds.
“See, this is why you're here.” Dick looked around. “We should suit—whoa there, nudie bootie.”
Thomas paused in the act of undoing his belt. “You were saying we should suit up. That's what I'm doing.”
“I was going to suggest we find a place where we can all get some privacy. Are those claw marks? Whoa.” Dick clapped a hand over his eyes. “More of you than I was planning on seeing today.”
“If it bothers you, don't look.” Thomas rummaged in his bag for his costume.
Jason snorted as he put on his helmet. “Does your boyfriend know he's dating a stripper?”
“He's fairly appreciative. Does yours know you get pissy when you're feeling insecure?”
Dick started to laugh, but hastily turned it into an awkward cough as he changed into his costume entirely inside his shirt. “I think he's gotcha there. Didn't realize he actually had one, did you?”
Jason had frozen, his hands on the clasps of his helmet. There was a long silence, and then he said, “I...I don't have a boyfriend, asshole.”
“No? Arrow Junior's just a superfriend with benefits, then? My mistake.”
“I'm not fucking Arsenal!”
“Oh, is he on top? He didn't seem like the type.”
At this point Dick was keeled over on the ground, still twisted up inside his shirt, laughing silently. Just as he'd calmed down, Jason shifted uncomfortably, and somehow this set him off into a fresh fit, until it became obvious that he'd actually become trapped in his shirt and Thomas and Jason had to help disentangle him.
Once they'd saved Dick from being attacked by his own shirt, Thomas moved away and started examining the ground. “What's Nakamura's shoe size?”
“Six boy's.”
“Hm. Small. He's been through here a lot. This way.”
“How does he get past the gate?”
“Some kind of jumping robot, from the indentations here—I'm seeing very big feet, but the treads don't look like shoes.”
Jason made a derisive noise. “Not very efficient. Makes it sort of obvious that he's a kid.”
“Yeah, well. Coming?”
They were deep in the forest of ancient funhouses and moldering tilt-a-whirls when the first robots attacked, slim iPhone-chic humanoids pouring out of a concession stand in formation. Dick leaped instinctively out of the way and reached for his sticks, Jason grabbed for a gun, and Thomas had already slipped his claws on, dropping low. The latter snarled as the ranks of robots continued to appear. “Back to back, dead man.”
“Got your six, asshole.”
“You know, Blake,” said Dick, flipping over their heads and kicking a robot in the chest, “if you weren't seeing someone I'd say you two should go out.”
Thomas and Jason said, simultaneously, “There's no need to be rude,” and then glanced at each other, disturbed.
Ten minutes later, amidst the wreckage of the robot attackers, Dick looked them over again as they leaned breathless on each other and said, “Yeah. Yeah, I could definitely ship that.”
“Is he actually speaking English?”
“You don't even wanna know, Pussycat.”
“See? You've even got a pet name for him.” Thomas raised a clawed fist, and Dick smiled winningly at him. “But that's a chat for another time. Lead the way, Catman.”
Thomas took the lead, and they moved deeper into the park, following a trail that only he was apparently cognizant of.
At one point they stopped to have some water, and Jason said, “Shit, how big is this park?”
“Not very.” Thomas was perched incongruously on a merry-go-round, his arm resting on the head of a gaudy carousel tiger. “Nakamura takes a long route to get back to his hideout. A lesser tracker would have lost him already.”
“Show-off.” Dick was hanging from the merry-go-round canopy by his knees, and when Thomas and Jason looked up at him, unamused, he said, “What?”
Jason snorted, and Thomas rolled his eyes.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, drinking their water, and then Jason said, “It's Bane, right?”
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “What's Bane?”
“Your boyfriend. I always figured that guy was in it for more than the suplexes.”
Thomas choked on his water, sputtered for a moment, and then managed to croak out, “Have you ever met Bane? I don't think he even masturbates. I only have confirmation that he's had sex once in his entire life. I don't think he actually has a sex drive.”
“Shit, it's not? Because I mean, even you aren't fucked up enough to hook up with that Ragdoll freak—”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Fuck you. And I know your merry band of jackoffs hangs with King Shark sometimes, but that'd just be fucked up. That guy's a mess. And I know you aren't dating outside your special club because I'm pretty sure nobody else would want to hook up with you.”
“...I can take my shirt off again if you need evidence to the contrary.”
Jason ignored that. “Which means...wait. You shacked up with Deadshot?”
Dick twisted around to look at Thomas, who...didn't say anything, but he did briefly get a far-away look in his eyes.
“You did. Oh my god. I didn't think he was into dudes. I thought he was dating that vampire dominatrix chick.”
“She's a banshee. Not a vampire.”
“But she is a...”
“Yes.” The far-away look came back. “We share.”
Dick nearly fell off the merry-go-round canopy. “That's kinkier than I was expecting.”
Jason, however, was looking at Thomas with slightly more respect. “So when are you growing the mustache, then?”
“We talked about it, but I believe Jeannette's exact words were 'Floyd has quite enough mustache for all of us.' Which we both agreed with. I don't think I'm suited for facial hair.” Thomas drained his bottle of water and slid down off the back of his tiger. “We should get going.”
“Yes, let's.” Dick dropped from the top of the merry-go-round, landed in a handstand, and turned two cartwheels before standing. “I could stand to not hear any more about your sex life.”
“Liar,” Jason said as they continued on behind Thomas. “Thought's going to be keeping you warm for months.”
“Shut up.”
Thomas glanced over his shoulder. “If it's any consolation, I'm not even vaguely interested in either of you.”
This time it was Jason's turn to say, “Shut up.”
--
They fought through two more waves of robots before entering the funhouse Thomas had led them to. “He should be in here.”
“Should be?”
“I'm ninety-nine percent sure.”
“That's not a hundred.”
“Look, your boss hired me and saddled me with dead weight. If he wanted absolute certainty he would have let me do this my way.”
Dick scowled beneath his mask. “Your way would probably involve crippling the kid for life.”
“And Red Hood is any better of a choice for that?”
Jason made a face. “Look, I don't know why I'm here either.”
They made their way through the funhouse, deeper and deeper—“This is one hell of a long hall of mirrors.”—until there was—
—a sudden drop—
—and when they picked themselves up they found that they were standing in a vast cavern teeming with electronics, facing down an even more massive army of slim white robots. And behind the ranks stood—
Dick snorted a laugh. “Is that a Gundam? You actually built yourself a Gundam.”
The massive robot shifted, and from the grill on the front there issued a somewhat-modulated voice. “Gaijin no eiyū wa ofu ni seikō suru koto ga dekimasu!”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Kimi wa kodomo no tame ni shitsureida.”
Jason blinked. “What?”
Dick groaned. “His idea of negotiation leaves something to be desired.”
Thomas ignored them. “Boku wa <Catman>. Bokutachi wa kimi o sagashite imashita.”
“Atchi e ike! Kore wa boku no bashodesu!”
“Oh, for fuck's sake—hey, kid!” Jason cupped his hands around his mouth. “Get your ass out of the giant robot or I'll come up there and haul it out!”
There was a pause, and the robot turned slightly towards Jason. The smaller robots moved in tandem with it, an eerily silent crowd. “...To iu Reddo Fūdo wa arimasu ka?”
“What'd he say?”
“He wants to know if you're the Red Hood, asshole. Hai! Sore ga kareda!”
“Sugoooooi.” The front of the enormous robot opened, and a teenage boy in a Punisher t-shirt dropped out of the cockpit and strolled over to them. About three yards away he dropped a perfunctory bow, and then began speaking rapidly as soon as he'd straightened up. “You're the Red Hood? Nakamura Hiro. I'm a big fan. I have all your action figures, and you should see my doujinshi collection. You know you're popular here, right? You like my robots? I made one that looks like you, it's in the back right now. Perfect one-eighth inch scale, has a working motorcycle and a gun. Very cool. Will you sign it?”
Jason took a step back, alarmed. “You speak English?”
“Of course I speak English, I've been studying English in school since I was little. Just didn't feel like it before. Come on, let me show you my robots. Do you think you could introduce me to Power Girl?”
Dick elbowed Jason hard in the side, grinning. “Go on, Red, the kid's a fan.”
“But—”
“Humor him.”
“...yeah, ok, kid, let's go look at your robots.”
Nakamura looked thrilled. “Come on, they're all back here. And you said you were Catman. Does that mean you know Deadshot?”
Thomas coughed awkwardly, taken aback. “You could say that.”
“I love Deadshot, you should introduce me to him. Batman sent you, right? I got an email from him. I told him to fuck off, but I didn't know he'd send the Red Hood.”
Now Jason was grinning. “You're a kid after my own heart.”
--
With the revelation of Nakamura's fannish status, persuading him to return to Gotham with them took little effort—he turned out to be an orphan, which surprised exactly none of them, and had little interest in remaining in Japan as long as he was allowed to continue building robots. In fact, during the three-hour train ride back to Tokyo, he filled the compartment with chatter about how excited he was to be going somewhere where he'd have access to Batman's equipment. Apparently what he'd been able to steal had not been quite sufficient for his needs. He also talked through approximately two hours of the flight back to Gotham, and then fell asleep mid-sentence in his seat.
Once they were sure he was asleep, Jason slumped forward in his chair. “I cannot believe Bats sent me all the way to Japan just to pick up a fanboy.”
Dick shrugged. “I don't know, I think he's sort of sweet. Very high-enthusiasm. I bet he'll get along well with Red Robin.”
Thomas folded his arms across his chest, scowling. “I still think this would have all gone much quicker if I'd been by myself.”
“No, this was fun! We should do it again sometime!” Dick paused, looked at his companions, and then grinned vastly. “Or at least you two should. You know, every other week or something. Crimefighting date. Get some dinner, go beat up some muggers...”
The other two began to protest simultaneously.
“See, you're already completing each others' sentences. You're so cute. And you know I worry about you, Red Hood, you could use a date.”
Thomas and Jason glanced at each other, and Thomas said, slowly, “We can at least agree that we hate him, right?”
Jason nodded. “Right.”