Chapter Text
Jason kept his posture relaxed as he followed Captain America, a fucking icon of American strength and integrity, down the hallway and towards presumably Dick. From his viewpoint, the man’s blond hair looked ash beneath the bad lighting and his broad shoulders took up nearly the entire width of the hallway.
The image: red, white, and blue, burned into the back of Jason’s eyes. Even now, when the guy wore dirty jeans and a worn t-shirt, Jason could see the vivid colors.
It hurt to look at the man, somehow clearly still so good, even after everything.
But the colors. Jesus. Hadn’t someone told him that he straight up looked like a fucking piñata? This wasn’t World War II anymore. No need to draw enemy fire.
Even Red Hood’s helmet seemed like too much occasionally. A flamboyant statement he regretted after a couple beers and a few broken bones.
“I like the navy.”
He’d seen a few pictures after they’d pulled Steve Rogers out of the Potomac. The uniform upgrade made a world of difference.
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind.” Like the guy gave two shits what Jason thought of his updated uniform.
Nothing beat head to toe black. You couldn’t catch a dirtbag pimp or child molester dressed like a clown.
Whatever.
Jason glanced around the floor, watching as regular office workers fought to get a glimpse of the action as they were herded towards the elevators by security, and felt as if he were moving through a thick fog.
The press of normal people was crushing. A woman in the far aisle carried a bagged lunch and paused to grab a Coke from the vending machine on her way out. A Coke.
Not even three hours ago a league of assasins had attacked.
“How the fuck do you guys get anything done with all these sheep?” His skin literally crawled under their curious stares.
Captain America stopped and Jason nearly tripped over his own feet to avoid smacking into the man.
“They are not sheep, are we clear?” His voice got low and firm. “Don’t even look at them.”
Right. Jason raised his arms in mock surrender.
“Fine, got it… no looking… you guys love surrounding yourselves with weak bags of flesh. Got it.”
“This way.” Captain America eyed him with a frown before turning away abruptly.
Jason cocked his shoulder, the scrape on his jaw burned and the skin beneath his mask itched fiercely. He wanted to wash the stench of sweat and blood from his skin.
He should have known from the beginning there was no way this was going to be easy. Not with Tim involved and especially not with Dick involved.
Lesson learned.
They passed a nondescript meeting room, door firmly shut and blinds drawn, and every hair on the back of Jason's neck stood at attention. No one was stationed outside, but there might as well have been a neon sign.
Tim. Jason was sure of it.
Fucking Tim.
He refocused on the man leading the way. Even Captain America’s haircut looked uptight. The latest biography Jason had paged through had said emphatically that Steve Rogers was adjusting well to the future.
What a crock of shit. No one ‘adjusted well’ to dying.
He followed the icon down another hall and memorized the layout as they moved. For an ‘office building’, he counted an extraordinary amount of exits, choke points, and disguised panic rooms.
Captain America halted in front of an open conference room, swiveling to face Jason with a look that reminded him of a disapproving teacher.
He opened his mouth before closing it again with an audible snap.
Jason raised an eyebrow beneath his mask.
“Got something to tell me, Ken? A secret you wanna share? Are you just amazed people no longer have to shit in buckets? Sad that it costs more than a nickel to go to the movies?”
“Ignore him!” Dick’s voice drifted out of the open doorway and into the hall. “Please.”
The blond gestured for Jason to move. He swaggered and watched Rogers’ shoulders rise in irritation.
“Can you try to be less irritating?” Dick asked as soon as Jason entered. The slope of his shoulders looked tired and a cup of coffee rested in front of him. The light color and sweet smell had Jason’s stomach rolling. “You’re ruining my chance for an autograph.”
“Fuck off,” he responded.
The room he’d been herded into was small, with dark wood, soundproof walls, and state of the art equipment. At the large table, Dick sat next to an exhausted guy wearing glasses.
Nightwing smiled widely and instinctively Jason reached for a cigarette. Thank god he’d found a few stuffed into the bottom of his jacket pocket.
“This is where the Avengers hang out? Gotta say, I’m disappointed.” He pulled out his lighter.
At least Bruce had the decency to fill his hundreds of conference rooms with comfortable seats. This chair was somehow simultaneously digging into his spine and left shoulder.
“Uh...,” the guy next to Dick adjusted his button up and scratched his nose. He glanced between the two vigilantes. “Are you smoking in here?”
“Yep.” He slouched into the chair and took a long drag. It tasted fantastic.
“This is the Hulk.” Nightwing gestured to the man next to him. “Isn’t he cool?”
“Call me Bruce, please.” The man who transformed into the Hulk said in a soft voice. His shirt needed a good ironing and his glasses had visible fingerprints on them.
What were the Avengers thinking? The Hulk was a liability and had no business pretending to be a ‘superhero’.
Jason tapped his cigarette on the edge of the desk, letting the ash fall on the carpet. What a fucking shitshow.
Bruce coughed.
“Dude, put it out.” Dick chastised as if Jason were a kid.
He shrugged. “I’ll be done in a minute.”
“We’re guests.”
“Fine.” Maybe the next time a Robin went missing he wouldn’t lend a hand. Maybe he’d let all their calls go to voicemail. Let them chase their own tails.
He stubbed it out on the mahogany table in front of him, taking visceral pleasure in the smell of wood and varnish burning.
“We’ve got stuff to do,” he groused.
They didn’t have time for this. Not with the League in town and Tim injured.
Nightwing rolled his head back and made a frustrated noise. “C’mon.”
“What?” He kept his voice deceptively lighthearted. “You disagree? Wanna have a slumber party and make flower crowns?”
Before Dick could try and shame him, or worse, agree to the idea, the red headed bombshell from earlier walked in. The gun on her hip flashed under the florescent lights and he counted at least three visible knives.
Behind her, Tony Stark talked loudly into his phone. Jason felt his lip curl.
“I don’t have time right now,” the man groused, “I told you, only emergencies-”
He halted outside the door and waved a hand in frustration. His voice rose as if he were trying to talk to someone at the other end of a tunnel. “I know, but there is no way. He is the single most pig headed -”
“Tony?” She interrupted.
He put a hand over the receiver. “I’m sorry, I gotta take this. I’ll be quick. Go ahead and start.”
The multi millionaire put the phone back to his ear. She shut the door and pulled out a chair while Captain America perched himself, arms crossed, against the far wall.
She eyed the two of them, gaze taking in their faces and forms before her already flat eyes grew hard. He’d recognize that look anywhere. This day just kept getting better and better.
“Gotham,” she growled the word like it was an insult.
Next to him, Dick’s smile froze before it reformed quickly. He opened his mouth to undoubtedly lie.
“Yep,” Jason cut him off, “I am aware of our city of origin. Are you looking for travel tips?”
He crossed his own arms and leaned back until the chair creaked in warning. She blinked.
“Surprised I admit it so easily?” He laughed and didn’t try to keep it from being ugly. “I don’t give a fuck if you know who I am. Oh, and Valerie’s on 8th Street has the best pie in the city.”
“And you are?” Bruce asked in confusion. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”
“Red Hood, nice to meet you.” He kicked his feet up onto the table. Soot still clung to the bottoms of his boots from the destroyed building he’d waded through.
Nightwing moved his head into his hands.
“Oh,” Bruce answered, “Well, I don’t think I’ve heard of you.”
Jason laughed again, this time genuinely. He’d put a lot of bullets in a lot of heads to keep his name quiet outside of Gotham.
“You seemed to care a lot before. About remaining unknown.” The bombshell adjusted her ponytail and leaned an elbow against the table. “Even if it meant hurting the person you were trying to retrieve.”
The front two legs of Jason’s chair thumped back against the floor.
“Angry that things didn’t go your way?” She continued with zero inflection.
“Not 100% pleased, if we're being honest.” He carefully intoned back.
“I am always honest.”
Right. Jason would believe her as soon as Batman stopped dressing kids up in capes and throwing them onto the street.
He glanced over at Nightwing and waited to see if he’d jump in with his good cop routine. Dick gave him a look but didn’t try to intrude. Good. Jason was on a roll.
“Black Widow, right?”
“Yes.”
“With the long legs and the good hair I was thinking either Thor or Widow.”
“What gave it away?”
“No hammer.”
Bruce chuckled as if the noise were punched out of him. Nightwing made a sound of emotional distress.
“I don’t give a shit about what you know anymore because my priorities have changed.” Jason continued in a tired voice. He didn’t have time to play nice with these goodie two shoes.
“Priorities?” Captain America asked. “What priorities?”
And wasn’t that the million dollar question.
“I still wanna know how a teenager is recruited to fight crime in one of America’s most dangerous cities.” Widow said in a no nonsense tone. “I don’t really care about your priorities.”
Dick frowned at the implication.
“You’re going to care a lot more. Especially when your city continues to fucking burn.” Jason thought of Tim’s words, rushed and slurred against his ear.
There was no time to waste playing super hero friends.
“What?” Widow asked.
“We’ll take care of it,” Dick placated, giving Red Hood an easily interpreted look. Shut. Up. “We understand this threat and can have it resolved quickly. We’ll be out of the city in just a couple days, problem resolved.”
“You can’t just say that and expect us to agree.” Bruce cleaned his glasses.
Against the wall, Rogers nodded his head in agreement.
Jason sighed and shared a look with Dick.