Chapter 1: Meet... Cute?
Chapter Text
Living in Gotham was… alright?
Danny will admit, he misses the familiarity of Amity. He knows it isn’t safe for him anymore, and getting out was the only way to keep himself from being dissected and all that, but still.
Gotham wasn't awful, no matter what outsiders said.
Jazz worked in Gotham, and she went to college there too, so at least he wasn't alone in fleeing the Fenton household. Jack and Maddie… Well, he doesn’t think they’ve even noticed his disappearance. Not with their single minded focus on re-capturing Phantom.
When he was last there, (moving out secretly), they raved on and on about how they almost had the ghost hero, how they’d gotten him into the lab, on and on. Danny was sick just thinking about what happened.
He shakes his head like he could physically remove the thought from his brain. Now isn't the time. He's got a job to do, and he's slacking.
Gotham U was a good college, and with his performance in some of their science classes, he'd landed a pretty good paid internship in WE’s aerospace sector. Of course, no matter how much he loved space, it didn't make the equations easier.
As ghost king, he did have the collected knowledge of thousands of years and thousands of universes at his fingertips, but that felt like cheating. So here he sits, staring down the same equation he'd been struggling over for the better part of the day.
His eye twitches. He rereads the letters and numbers for the hundredth time.
He's shocked from his staring contest with the unmovable screen by a tap on his shoulder, and he physically jolts back at the sudden fright. Wow, some Ghost King!
“Whoa! Sorry Danny, it's just… You've been eyeing that string for…” Michael checks his watch, brow furrowed. He blinks and shakes his head. “...way too long. I think it's time you take a lunch break, huh?”
Michael was one of the heads of his division, and he was probably the nicest boss Danny had. Super understanding. That's why Danny gives him a dazed nod and blink, standing sluggishly and stretching while his boss moves on.
His legs are numb and full of pins and needles at the same time, causing him to hiss out a pained breath. Trudging through the department to the break room, he grabs his lunch box and debates eating at the small table provided to them in the drab break room.
It takes half a second to decide he needs some fresh air and head out of the building. There's a cute corner cafe he likes to frequent, and they don't mind him taking his lunch inside.
Learning to cook was a challenge. He was so used to fighting back against food that he was wary of the kitchen. Jazz had to drop by often to help him work past that. Now, he wasn't the best chef, but he could cook a good dish with a recipe, and he'd even been going more and more off book lately.
Today's lunch was a simple sandwich, the sauce of course infused with ectoplasm.
He'd been worried that adding ectoplasm would bring the food to life, but was assured by Lunch Lady that it would be fine.
Apparently, ectoplasm was a necessity for types like him. It was a necessity for every ghost, of course, but he had to go about absorbing it differently. Through some trial and error, they discovered it was easiest to just ingest ectoplasm to meet his needs. On top of that, when mixed with food, the odd taste seemed non-existent! A win-win all around.
Ancients, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he sat down and had his first bite. He felt the ectoplasm dissolve and radiate through him, making him feel almost lighter, more awake.
It was a fulfilling feeling, and made him realize that maybe he'd gone a bit too long without topping up his internal stores of ectoplasm. Regardless, he went for another bite.
That's when he noticed it.
Or rather, that's when he felt it.
Someone stepped into the cafe, and their presence . Not quite ghostly, not quite human. Almost like Vlad, but way less slimy, and hungry . Starving, even.
His eyes lock onto the man entering, and unbidden, he watches the man step up to the counter. He’s tall, and built like a brick wall with a heavy leather jacket over his shoulders. His hair is jet black save for, curiously, a patch of pure white curls over his forehead.
Danny unwittingly expands his aura, trying to comfort this clearly starving liminal unconsciously.
Of course, the maybe halfa startles back and whirls to face Danny.
His eyes meet the stranger's teal eyes, and Danny sees something almost like fear cross over the man's face before being replaced by anger. With the anger comes a change in his blue-ish eyes, shifting them more to a neon green, and the flaring of a shockingly weak aura.
It feels fragile even as it tries to curl protectively around the man, hissing and crackling like flames eating through logs.
Little firecrackers.
Overwhelmingly, there’s a sick sort of feeling that comes over Danny when he inspects the man’s aura, like something is terribly wrong with it. Something twisted and unnatural about the rage that contorts the man’s features and races through his veins.
Danny faintly senses a small proto-core of sorts buried deep in the man, under all that green hate. It's as if the man was supposed to be a halfa too, but that crucial ghost part of himself hadn’t formed right. And Ancients, that achingly hungry sensation flooded his senses once more as Firecracker began walking his way, a scowl turning his lips.
Danny was getting secondhand pangs of pain in his stomach from how strong the feeling was.
The man was at his table now, and Danny realized he’d been creepily staring for far too long for it to be comfortable. The strange halfa, (because with their proximity, Danny was now sure he was a halfa) opened his mouth to speak.
Before he could get a word out, Danny was pushing into his space, all but shoving part of the ectoplasm sandwich into the man’s mouth. The human part of Firecracker seems to want him to pull away, to recoil, but that tiny piece of ghost in him overpowered his body in that moment, and as soon as he had gotten that first bite down, he tugged the rest from Danny’s hands.
Danny let him with a sigh, relieved his spur of the moment plan worked and the man no longer looked like he wanted Danny dead.
Firecracker was wolfing the ectoplasm infused meal down so fast that Danny was worried he’d have to perform the Heimlich on the guy. Instead, he laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him to sit in the seat across from Danny. They were getting some odd looks from the other patrons of the cafe, but Danny was more focused on making sure Firecracker was eating something.
He was done with the sandwich in no time, and blinking confusedly at Danny. The green that had overtaken his eyes was gone, as was the anger. The new shade of icy blue was striking.
“What the fuck.” He managed to rasp, shaking his head. “What the fuck was that?” He repeats, voice a bit stronger now. The fire that had curled about him earlier had dropped to a quiet simmer, sounding almost content now.
Danny gives him a smile, trying for easygoing. It probably comes off a bit strained. “Don’t get all angry on me again dude, but it was food.”
The man across from him is not amused.
“I know that, dumbass. What did you do to me?” There’s a growl to his voice again, but his eyes were still bright blue, so Danny remained relaxed.
“ I didn’t do anything. You , however…” Danny hesitates, trying to phrase his next question right. “Well, Firecracker, have you- there’s no easier way to ask this, I'm so sorry- have you… died… before?” Danny winces at his uneven stammering.
Firecracker blinks. “Jason.”
Danny blinks back. “What?”
“Jason. My name is Jason, not Firecracker.”
“I- okay? I’m Danny?” Firec- Jason nods decisively and stands.
“Somehow you made the green shit go away, and you absolutely know something I don't, so get up. We’re going somewhere more private .” Jason stares Danny down unblinkingly, intensely. “I have a feeling we need to talk .”
Danny nods back and stands to follow Jason. Privately he thinks that he should not feel so flustered by the man who is quite literally underhandedly threatening him.
Again, much like always, he shakes it off to get into gear. He clearly has some explaining to do.
---
Seated around a wobbly table in a ramshackle apartment, Danny tries not to feel intimidated by the man across from him. He’s the Ghost King for Ancient’s sake! Nevertheless, Jason’s got this glare that makes Danny want to look away.
He scans the room for the fifth time and can’t help but feel a bit bad for the guy. He’s clearly not well off. The apartment is really just one room with a sad stove and minifridge in one corner and a mattress on the floor on the other side.
The floor is cold tile on Danny’s legs as he sits in front of the only other furniture in the place, a coffee table with one leg shorter than the others, causing it to shift and move with the slightest amount of pressure. It is extremely awkward, to say the least.
Danny clears his throat, figuring it was better to get this uncomfortable topic over with. “So. You died, yeah?” He winces at his own lack of tack, but Jason just silently nods. “Okay. And you came back, obviously.”
Danny sighs and glances down. “That happened to me too. I- I’m gonna start this off by just asking you to believe me, and try to put some trust in me. It might be tough, but I’m going to tell you the truth.”
Jason shrugs. “Give me your best shot. Can’t hurt.”
“Ghosts are real.” Danny blurts.
Jason opens his mouth, clearly ready to refute this, so Danny pushes on.
“Ghost’s are real, and me and you are half Ghost, or halfa’s. Except- except, something’s wrong with how you came back?” Danny flushes bright red at the taken aback expression Jason gives him. “Not- not wrong! Just… different?? Oh Ancients that came out wrong. Hold on.”
Jason is surprisingly patient with him as he pauses to breath and reorder his thoughts. If Danny were Jason, he’d have punched himself by now. And he was supposed to be king?? Ancients, the observers had their work cut out for them. He takes another deep breath.
“Alright, from the top. Ghosts are real, and Ghosts have something called a core. Halfa’s have cores too. It’s the ghost part of them, so it’s, like, super important.” Jason nods, still looking a bit lost. “Great. So for you- and please take no offense- your core didn’t form like it should’ve when you came back. In fact-”
Danny stretches his senses out, not noticing the way Jason flinches back as his presence fills the room.
“I don’t think your core even got to start forming. I have no idea how you’re here.” Danny says, well and truly confused.
Jason sighs and puts his head into his hands. “The fucking Lazarus pits.” He curses.
“The what?” Danny asks, cocking his head to the side.
Jason begins to explain.
–--
Danny makes a disgusted face. “Dude, that's so messed up.”
Jason nods enthusiastically, gesturing broadly. “I know! I came back, got caught, and immediately tossed in! And- and now I've got all this anger and urge for violence I can't control but-” He faces Danny again, making direct eye contact. “Whatever was in that fucking sandwich made it go away . I- I mean completely .”
He runs a hand through his wild hair, clearly frazzled. “It’s starting to come back slowly, I can feel it creeping,” His lip turns down, “but it was gone. What was in that sandwich!?” He looks about ready to grab Danny by the shoulders and shake him, and Danny feels for the guy.
From the vague story of getting brought back alone, Danny knew that Firecracker had seen some pretty screwed up stuff.
“It was ectoplasm. Essential for ghosts, and therefore, necessary for halfa’s. It comes from the ghost zone and I just put it in food since it’s way easier than, like, injecting it into my veins or sitting in pools of it. You clearly haven’t ever had any, and that might be a part of why you have such a small core. Though-" Danny pauses, and Jason leans in a bit. “Now that I think about it, those Lazarus pits you talked about… It sounds a lot like a pool of corrupted ectoplasm, which would be-” Danny whistles a breath out.
“Pretty bad?” Jason fills in.
“Understatement.”
They sit in grim silence for a moment. Danny tries to lighten the mood.
“But we can worry about that later. I think, if I'm right about you having corrupted ectoplasm blocking your core from growing, I may be able to help!”
–-–
“So you’re saying that to get rid of the pits I need to purge-”
“Purge your corrupted ectoplasm, yes.” Danny confirms.
“And then I just replace it with the good stuff and, poof? All better?” Jason sounds like he can’t believe it. Danny’s sure it feels almost too easy for him after struggling to live with all that mess.
“Poof. all better.”
Jason gives him the tiniest head shake, like he’s trying to wrangle his thoughts together. “I don’t know why it feels so easy to trust you on this.”
Danny perks up. “Oh, I can actually explain that, too!
“That’s another thing about the ghost part of us! We are going to struggle to lie to each other because our cores expose that kind of stuff. You probably have trouble detecting it really now, but as soon as you’re in better shape, I’ll show you what I mean.” This explanation just seems to make Jason unsettled, which was not Danny’s goal.
“So you can just kinda know what I'm feeling whenever?”
Danny shakes his head immediately, realizing the problem.
“Oh no, not at all! It takes some focus and concentration, not to mention skill, if you're not projecting those feelings. Dishonesty just kind of-'' Danny makes a hand wavy motion in the air. “-doesn’t sit right.” He huffs a breath. “It’s hard to explain, but I promise, you’ll know.”
How does he begin to explain ghostspeak and auras and core types to a halfa who hardly has a core?? Never mind, put that on the back burner, come back for it later.
Jason, clearly exhausted from all of this, just nods at his weak explanation and leans back, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. Danny averts his eyes from Jason's well defined muscles instantly, focusing on literally anything else.
“So… what now?” Jason’s eyes are a more-blue-than-green teal now, and his gaze is intent.
Danny grins at Jason, jumping on the chance to change the subject. “Well, you give me your number, and we plan to have a meal together every other night. Just so you don’t get overloaded with pure ectoplasm too quickly.”
Jason slides his phone, already open to contacts, over to Danny smoothly. “If it gets rid of the Lazarus madness, I’m down for anything.” He laughs, but it comes out flat and tired.
Danny feels a pang of sympathy as he types his number in. They sit there for another moment before Danny finally stands.
“...Well, I'll leave you be.” He finds he really doesn’t want to say that.
He doesn't want to leave Jason alone in this barren apartment. But he also doesn’t want to overstep, and it’s clear Jason needs a break. “See you in a day?”
Jason nods, straightening up. He pauses. “Thanks. I- yeah.”
“It's nothing. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
“Yeah. I hope so.”
Danny turns to leave before he gets an idea and whirls back. Danny gives Jason his best, beaming smile. “Watch this. Going Ghost!”
The transformation takes in it's usual flash of light, leaving Danny standing there in his hazmat suit, a cheeky grin on his face. Jason’s slack-jawed expression pulls a laugh from Danny.
He winks before floating towards the window to the side and phasing into the alley before going invisible. He watches for just a moment longer to see Jason tear his curtains to the side to look upon the street and see… nothing.
Yeah, having a friend in Gotham could be good for Danny.
…
It’s when he’s on his way home that realization strikes him. He never went back to work!!! Oh Ancients, no!
—meanwhile—
Jason is not panicking. He’s not!
He’s calm and cool and collected and all that stuff! Exactly what you’d expect after being told there was a simple cure to the sickness that plagued your every waking moment.
Danny was, for genuine lack of words, a whirlwind . He sweeps in out of nowhere and makes Jason feel like everything he’s known since revival has been turned on its head. So much information he just didn’t know. So much he still had to find out.
Patience is a virtue, but Jason’s never been the best at holding back. He had been a bat after all.
He paces the length of his dingy, 6th best safe house and chews on a knuckle anxiously.
Sure, Jason had inexplicably trusted Danny about the ‘Ghosts are real and you are one’ thing, but seeing it in action was a whole other ball game. He hates the twist of anxiety in his gut as he paces his sixteenth lap of the apartment.
Finally, he shakes his head like a dog trying to rid its fur of water and decides to just head back to his real house. He’s got dinner plans in a day anyways.
Besides, he was trying to be on better terms with some local bats, and going missing suddenly on a coffee trip with no word on what happened to him was not good policy. He could already feel the headache coming on. He rubs at the bridge of his nose with a groan.
Chapter 2: Food is the way to a man's... - Core?
Summary:
Dinner, Some Brotherly Bonding, realizations, and a good dose of hurt/comfort.
Notes:
Jeez! Thank you all for your support! It was a little insane to wake up to a proper flood of comments and kudos and whatnot. Anyways, I banged out this second chapter in a day or two because I'm procrastinating some very important work. Enjoy.
ALSO, note the tag additions for emetophobia. i tried to not make it graphic, but if you want to skip it there will be a line like (--TW--) when it starts and one like (--Scene Over--) when the scene is over. Furthermore, these warnings are not to be confused with line breaks or POV switches, which will look like ---.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Going back into work was nerve wracking. Legitimately.
He was already feeling anxious because he had dinner plans tonight, but that on top of confronting his boss?? Danny has to steel his nerves as he steps into the building.
He gives his typical friendly wave to the receptionist on duty before stepping into the elevator up. He breathes in deep just like Jazz taught him.
The second he enters the main office, he feels eyes on him. Or maybe that's his imagination, but he can't be sure.
Michael is chatting to a group of workers, handing out papers with a stern face. He must see someone glance at Danny because he looks over and sees Danny awkwardly standing by the elevator. He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose before waving Danny forward. “Office. I'll be right there.”
Oh ancients, Danny is sweating.
He nods and complies though, trying not to fidget as he waits on the plush chair in Michael's office. Michael enters after a minute, shutting the door with a click. He takes his seat across from Danny, and stares him down.
Danny opens his mouth, ready to make up some bullshit excuse, but Michael beats him to it.
“You're not one to play hooky, Danny, but-” He looks away, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. He sighs a lot, huh? “I… understand some of your situation. School work on top of the work here and all…” He shakes his head. “What I'm trying to say is I'm not going to hold yesterday against you.”
Danny opens his mouth, but closes it just as quickly as Michael holds up a hand.
“I don't want any excuses. I convinced the others you were sick and took a half day. You know WE is pretty accepting of that stuff.”
“Thank you.” Danny blurts, slumped with relief.
“It's nothing, truly.” Then, Michael does something unexpected. He cracks a wry grin in Danny's direction. “You're a promising employee. Stick around after you get your degree. We've definitely got a place here for you.” Danny nods enthusiastically, eyes wide and shining with his grin. “Now get out of my office. I remember you having a project to get to.”
The sequence of letters and numbers Danny had been working on flashes through his mind and he groans but stands to leave. Still, the promise of a future in aerospace dulls the pain he already feels when thinking of his work, and that is enough for him for now.
---
Danny had no idea why he was so nervous. He's been feeling those nerves much more than he used to now. It was just dinner!
They were meeting in a public place at Jason’s request, which Danny totally understood. I mean, Danny had that instinctive trust in Jason as a person but Jason didn’t have his Halfa instincts in yet, so it was pretty one-sided.
Again, Danny wasn’t a cook, but he tried his best.
He wanted to impress Jason, for some inconceivable reason. He had spent an hour agonizing over recipes and standing in his kitchen inspecting his cabinets before reminding himself this wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. They were going to have to have multiple meals together.
Finally, he settles on a spaghetti of sorts. If he boiled the noodles in ectoplasm instead of water, it should infuse the noodles, right?
Well, it worked, but Danny failed to consider something very important.
Now, he's standing over his sink holding a strainer full of green, slightly glowing noodles with a frown. Danny may be used to how ectoplasm looks in food, but even he can agree that this dish looks… unappetizing. Especially covered in the red marinara sauce. It's like some sort of Christmas monstrosity, and Danny feels the despair rise up in him.
Still, he'll be late if he doesn't leave soon, so he just tosses his dish into a Tupperware and heads out the door.
Jason can't have super high expectations, right? I mean, he does live in a sort of decrepit single room apartment. Danny thinks back to that place and recalls that Jason barely had a stove, so maybe what Danny's bringing to the table will be just fine.
Yeah, it's just fine.
---
Jason is stressing.
He's got his bag packed for their picnic thing, but he's still all over the place. He double checks his stuff again.
He doesn't know what all Danny's bringing, so he's trying to account for everything. Blankets to put on the grass, utensils, napkins, water bottles, matches, a spare Swiss Army knife, Joker toxin anti-venom, hand sanitizer…
Is this overboard? Was this bat paranoia at play? Should he bring food too? Would that be good manners?
He's half ready to call up Alfred and ask, but he can't bring himself to do it. This all feels ridiculous.
He shakes his head in frustration. If he gets started now, he has just enough time to mix, bake, and bring cookies. They weren't Alfred's recipe, but he thinks they're pretty darn close.
About an hour later, Jason's cursing and shoveling fresh baked cookies into a gallon bag before tearing out the door, backpack heavy between his shoulders. He can't be late for this!
---
Danny enters the park, thankful for the cloud coverage. It was warm out here, and he did not like it.
He roamed for a minute before spotting Jason.
He was tapping at his phone, cross legged on a blanket in the grass, a backpack open to his side. There was a furrow between his brows as he did whatever it was that he was doing, and Danny had to shake himself from staring.
Danny hadn't even thought to bring a blanket, or, now that he was thinking about it, anything at all besides the spaghetti. He blanches, but makes his way to Jason regardless.
Jason doesn't even startle when Danny plops down beside him, sighing heavily. He just grins in Danny's direction and sets his phone to the side.
“Bad news and good news, which first?” Danny sets his Tupperware to his side.
Jason thinks for a second. “Good, then bad.”
“Good news, we've got food. Bad news, I forgot to bring anything else.”
Jason's face scrunches, and he hides his small smile behind his hand, stifling chuckles.
“Don't laugh!” Danny groans, cheeks red.
“I'm not!” Jason defends, but Danny can see the smile stretching his cheeks and the way his shoulders shake a bit. “Besides,” Jason turns to dig around in his bag, “I may or may not have come prepared.”
He pulls from the backpack a handful of forks and some napkins. He sets them down and goes back to searching in the bag. It's clear after a moment of this that whatever he's searching for isn't there, and he slumps in defeat.
“Right, well, I thought I brought plates too, but-” He shrugs, and it's Danny's turn to hold back giggles. Jason glares at him playfully.
“What happened to not laughing??” He says, affronted.
“I'm sorry! I'm not laughing, I swear!” It's just as much of a lie as when Jason said it and it's obvious.
“I feel like you don't get to laugh! I at least brought silverware . That's gotta get me some points, right?”
Danny grins and nods. “Sure, silver ware.” He eyes the small pile of assorted plastic forks while Jason sputters and continues trying to make his case. Danny just shakes his head, cheeks starting to hurt from the smile stretching them. “Never mind that though, I've got the food!”
Danny brings the big Tupperware closer and clicks open the lid. “Ta-da!” He tries, weak jazz hands waving.
Jason blinks, then blinks again before he looks between Danny and the food skeptically.
“Is- is it… edible?” He murmurs, picking up a fork to poke at the slightly glowy food.
Danny winces. “Yes?”
“I really don't like how unsure that sounded.”
“Yes, it's edible.” Danny says again, firmer this time.
Jason shrugs and twirls up a bit, passing a fork to Danny as well.
“Bone appetite or whatever.” Danny murmurs, getting his own bite.
Jason chews slowly, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. Thankfully, even as starving as Jason is for ghostly food, he keeps himself more controlled than when they first met. Danny was a bit concerned about Jason going feral on the spaghetti.
He eats his own bite, but his eyes stay focused on Jason for his reaction.
“It's not… bad.” Jason says unconvincingly. Danny deadpans at him, and Jason throws his hands up in surrender. “It's just got this… aftertaste?? It's really not bad!”
Danny quietly thinks that Jason is kind of adorable when he's flustered like this. He's looking away, cheeks dusted pink, and Danny has to remind himself for the thirtieth time to not stare.
“Just eat up. You need the ectoplasm anyway.” Danny sighs, giving Jason an out that the man gratefully takes. They eat out of the same Tupperware dish in calm quiet for a moment before Jason perks up and moves to pull something from his backpack. He drops a bag on the blanket.
“My contribution to this meal.”
“Chew your food before you talk, you delinquent.” Danny says, even as he’s eyeing up the bag of cookies hungrily.
“You sound like my youngest brother.” Jason says, fishing out two cookies. Danny makes grabby hands in his direction, and Jason dutifully passes one of his over.
Munching on one happily, Danny comments, “Oh, you have got to cook the next meal. We can use my kitchen.” Jason throws his head back in a laugh.
---
Jason does cook next time.
He more or less takes over Danny's entire kitchen. The only thing he lets Danny do is add in the ectoplasm and stir the sauce. He moves like a dancer in between his multiple stations, chopping something one second and searing something in a pan the next. It’s honestly mesmerizing, and Danny just sits at the table and watches, occasionally making small talk.
He learns that Jason’s from a big family, that his job is a night shift more often than not, and his favorite color. He learns that Jason was adopted, and his dad is some rich billionaire.
He has to force himself not to talk about the rich frootloop billionaire that’s been trying to adopt him too, and it is a struggle .
Danny still shares about himself as well, explaining he has a sister in Gotham, but not saying a word about his parents. Jason seemed to just understand, and didn’t press him on anything. They continued in this back and forth manner until Jason served his dish.
Danny sang his praises for the meal, enjoying the way Jason blushed far more than he should’ve. They parted ways feeling full and happy.
Danny is so glad he convinced Jason to cook. In comparison, Danny's skills in the kitchen are nothing . The dish Jason made for them should be considered a delicacy of some sort. He could charge serious money for what he fed Danny.
Danny brings a hand up to his cheek, trying to will the red there away. He has no idea why he feels so… floaty? He glances down, and yup, both feet on the floor, but the sensation remains. Everything just seems lighter somehow.
He tries to turn his mind to something else, the tv, clean-up, or even that dreaded equation from work, but for some reason, the memory of Jason's smile won’t leave his mind. It has him grinning stupidly all the way up until he falls asleep.
---
Jason doesn't always get to cook.
Danny is dead set, (ha), on sticking to the schedule of one ectoplasmic meal every other day, but sometimes one or the other of them isn’t available. They try to get together as often as they can, but as work picks up for the both of them, those days get fewer.
Eventually, Danny realizes he won’t always be able to pop by Jason’s apartment to drop off a sandwich or something and decides to trust Jason with some ectoplasm for himself.
“-very potent, i know .” Jason stares resolutely down at Danny. “I promise I'll use it in moderation, okay? And no one comes by besides you, so it’s not like any regular people are going to get any. You can trust me.” His voice is so earnest on that last sentence that Danny can’t help but agree.
He reaches into the Ghost Zone, ignoring the expression Jason makes at the swirling green rift. Retrieving the canister, he promptly drops it into Jason's hands. He stares at it in disbelief.
“A mason jar ?? You’ve put this incredibly dangerous substance in a mason jar ??”
“It’s food safe!” Danny protests.
Jason just shakes his head, so Danny decides to move on. “That’s about four doses, so you’ll need to see me again soon, okay?”
Is it Danny’s imagination, or does Jason relax?
“Okay.”
There’s a moment's pause as they stand in Jason’s doorway, not saying much, just kind of sitting there. A siren rings out in the distance, making Danny realize maybe he’s been hovering there in Jason's door for a second too long. He clears his throat.
“Are we still on for Wednesday?” Danny’s voice is uncharacteristically meek.
“Oh yeah. I’ve found an incredible recipe for you. You’re going to love it.” Jason affirms with a nod and roguish grin. “Don’t think you get to get out of dinner with me just because you handed over a key ingredient. I still need my taste-tester.” He continues with a mock scoff. Theater kid through and through. (Danny had loved learning that little fact. This 6'2 hunk of muscles was into theatre? He read Jane Austen?? Incredible.)
Danny knows he’s smiling too wide, nodding too enthusiastically, but he doesn't care. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t worried that, by giving Jason ectoplasm, they wouldn’t see each other as much. With his fears calmed, he cheekily winks at Jason, who brings a hand to his chest in an exaggerated swoon. “I’ll see you then.”
“And I, you.” Ancients, what a nerd.
Danny turns away and starts heading home, his mind a giddy loop of Jason's words. ("-recipe for you." "-My taste-tester-")
...
He may need professional help.
---
Was that too cheesy? He feels like a goof.
Jason groans, dropping his head into his hands. Did he make a fool of himself?
It’s just so easy to be around Danny. He doesn’t hesitate to joke and laugh and talk about himself. And with each passing day, the feeling of consuming anger filling his mind gets less and less, but new feelings take up those empty spaces.
Overwhelmingly, there’s this warmth when he looks at Danny.
(Well, to be accurate, he’s been feeling more warm just in general, but he pushes that new physical oddity aside to focus on figuring out his feelings.)
Danny just has this air about him, and Jason feels himself gravitating closer like a moth to the flame.
He wants to cook and provide for Danny, wants so deeply for Danny to smile at him, laugh and be around him. He wants to learn everything he can about this enigma of a man who strutted into his life. He has this strong urge to run his hands through the man's fluffy looking hair, and it is a struggle to contain himself. Of all the stupid things, this has to be the worst.
Jason’s got a crush.
Full on schoolgirl crush. He’s kicking his feet and everything! It’s unbecoming of the Red Hood, but he can’t find it in himself to care.
He sighs and tries to shake it off.
He’s relying on Danny to rid him of the Lazarus madness, and he can’t screw up his chances at being free of the rage because of Danny’s stupidly distracting smile. Or his stupidly distracting arms, I mean God , how does he have that much muscle? He’s half ghost??
Jason can’t think about this any longer. He’s got patrol with Dick, and the golden boy is surprisingly observant. If he thinks anything is wrong at all, he’ll attack like a shark smelling blood and pester Jason to death.
Again.
---
Something is wrong with Jason. It's so obvious it hurts.
Not much gets past Dick anymore.
Jason has been slowly but surely warming up to them, and Dick tries to patrol with him at least once every two weeks or so. Little oddities add up under Dick's scrutinizing gaze.
First, Jason actually cracked a joke with Dick. He laughed and everything over a truly ridiculous pun, of all things. It startled Dick so much he stumbled and almost fell off the ledge he was perched on.
Then, he actually calls Tim by his name. Not replacement, not cuckoo bird, Tim. Tim had choked on his coffee, but managed to recover smoothly.
He even willingly patrolled with Damien! And they've got some unspoken rivalry that Dick's scared to touch. It’s absurd.
Overall, Jason’s been much less snappy. He hardly glares at Bruce anymore, which, wow. Dick would love to attribute this behavioral change to them bonding and Jason getting more comfortable with the family, but the timing is just all off. Something else must be going on, and Dick was determined to find out.
He did a little investigating of his own, and thinks he stumbled on something big . He can’t be sure, but there is no time like the present to do some fishing!
They’re staking out a warehouse, just sitting together on the roof of a nearby building and waiting.
Dick’s swinging his legs off the side and Jason’s got his eyes focused through a scope. No rifle attached, despite Jason's grumbling.
“So… You gonna tell me what's going on with you?”
“Nothing’s ‘going on' with me.” He grumbles, but Dick sees the way his shoulders tense. Hiding something, then.
“Suuuuuure…” Dick drags the word out, looking away from Jason and back out over the skyline. The wind whistles a bit louder, tousling Dick’s hair a bit. He hums softly, a mischievous sort of grin finding its way to his face. “This ‘nothing’ doesn't have anything to do with a certain someone you've been hanging out with, does it? Black hair, works at WE…” He puts a hand on his chin like he’s trying to think.
Jason fumbles the scope, drops it, but manages to snag it before it tumbles off the roof, cursing all the while.
“What the fuck, Dickhead?” He exclaims.
With his hood off to the side, Dick gets to see the full range of emotions play out over Jason’s face.
“Stay the hell away from Danny.” His voice is a growl, and Dick raises his eyebrows at the tone. There it is!
“Ha! I was mostly guessing, but you’ve just confirmed my thoughts! Danny, huh? New friend of yours?” While Dicks voice is lighthearted and joking, the frown that twists Jason's lips makes him falter.
Jason averts his eyes, won’t look at Dick. Did he overstep?
“Did I say something to upset you?”
“No.” Jason grumbles.
Dick nudges him with an elbow. “Hey! None of that! Our policy is supposed to be honesty.” He chides, still smiling softly.
Jason mutters something Dick doesn’t hear, but it's probably an insult, so Dick moves on. “Besides, I really don’t know anything. Tim just alerted me to the fact you picked someone up from the WE aerospace building. I didn’t do any digging, promise.”
Jason's shoulders slump a bit, and he sighs heavily. “You didn’t do any digging, but I bet Tim-bit’s got an entire file typed up by now.” He rubs a hand over his face exasperatedly.
Dick gives him a shrug. “That may be true. He’s always been overly paranoid." The fondness in his voice is audible.
Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair. Dick sees the new stress settling on Jason’s shoulders and shifts a bit closer. Jason doesn’t always like touch, so he telegraphs his motion to ruffle Jason’s hair, giving him plenty of time to duck away. He doesn’t, letting Dick smooth down the hair he mussed.
“Tell you what, I’ll try and keep them off your tracks, if , and only if, you tell me a bit more about your new friend.”
Jason smiles at him, genuinely smiles , and Dick knows he said the right thing. The floodgates open, and Jason talks.
---
(--TW: emetophobia scene--)
Wednesday rolls around, with little fanfare. They’re halfway through dinner, laughing about an anecdote Danny’s sharing from work, when Jason chokes on the bite of food he’s chewing.
A sharp bolt of pain lances him through and through, and he coughs the bite back onto the plate.
Danny’s at his side immediately, peering anxiously at him.
Jason dimly thinks Danny must be calling his name with the way his mouth moves, but all the noise is focused into a high ringing. He can't respond, doubled over in pain and gasping for breath.
“-it, shit, shit!” Danny is frantic, hands hovering uselessly over Jason’s shoulders.
The agony comes back, racking up from his feet to his head. Somehow, it's icy and burning at the same time, reeking havoc on his nerves. He makes a strangled cry then, eyes squeezed shut.
Danny pulls his chair back, murmuring apologies before scooping him up.
If Jason were in a better state, he'd be freaking out about this. I mean, he knew Danny was strong but to be able to carry him?
Another stab of pain cuts him through and he pants around the spikes of it.
“Ancients, I didn't think it'd be so soon. I- I thought I'd have time to prepare you!! I'm sorry, Jason I'm sorry.” Jason blinks up at Danny, brow furrowing at the panicked expression on his face.
He looks on the verge of tears, and Jason doesn't know what to do. He should comfort Danny, right? He tries to reach up, opens his mouth to speak… and closes it just as quickly as a wave of nausea slams him.
Danny sets him on his couch, a little too rough but Jason's in too much pain to care, darting from the room and bringing back a bucket.
“-Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sor-” pouring from Danny's mouth like a mantra.
He helps Jason lean to the side, and then Jason's expelling a sour, noxiously green substance. It's almost comical how much the viscous crap looks like the cartoonish liquid you'd see in radiation barrels on a tv show. He deliriously chuckles, but regrets it immediately as he has to spit up another mouthful. He can't do anything to stop it, and barely catches breaks between heaving to gasp for another breath. It comes again, and it feels like whatever he's hacking up has thorns that scratch and tear at the inside of his throat. It feels like whatever this is should be eating through the flimsy bucket he's hunched over.
This whole episode lasts far longer than it realistically should, which cements this as something ghostly. As if the fact the crap looked like ectoplasm's fucked up cousin wasn't enough to clue him in.
The next time he heaves, he comes up dry. Nothing left to come out, he guesses. It should be over, right? Then why has the rolling pain not stopped?
Then his body's burning, roasting and on fire and in ice and under water and he wants to scream but he can't. Jason thinks he might black out then, but he's already so far past it all that he doesn't know.
---
Danny knows what's happening the second Jason doubles over, folds in half on himself, clutching his ribs.
He thought he had more time. Frostbite had assured him he'd have more time .
Ridding Jason of all that bad ectoplasm was supposed to take another month at least, so what happened?
Jason groans, low and wounded and Danny decides he needs to move, now. Even as he's scooping Jason up, he's freaking out.
He was going to explain everything about this part of the process and they were going to set up a comfortable place for it to go down and this wasn't supposed to happen.
Jason shudders in his arms, body contorted and spasming. Danny just continues to hiss apologies.
Carting him to the living room couch, Jason looks up, meeting his eyes. That adorable, infuriating furrow twists his brow, and Danny wants to sob.
A hand comes up, and just as quickly back down as Jason squeezes his eyes closed.
Just as Danny gets him on the couch and fetches a bucket, he's leaned over and heaving . Neon green filth pours from Jason, and Danny knows.
This has to be the Lazarus pits.
Jason chokes and gasps, shoulders trembling, but there's nothing Danny can do but watch. When Jason's eyes roll back and he slumps, Danny darts forward to catch him, ensuring he stays on his side over the bucket.
There's tears on Jason’s cheeks, and Danny smooths them away with his thumbs, ignoring the tears on his own cheeks. Danny knew that all the bad ectoplasm had to come out, but Frostbite never said it'd be so violent .
He needs to make a phone call.
(--Scene over--)
---
He floats in a dreamy sort of dark void for a long while. The pain is distant here, but it's lonely and achingly cold.
The feeling of a hand running through his hair is what drags him to awareness. The hand is warm, blessedly warm against his forehead as the person tucks back sweat soaked strands from his face. There's the low murmur of words nearby, but Jason’s ears aren't online yet, so he can't make out what's being said.
Everything hurts less; the pain is spread out evenly in him and has been reduced to a dull aching sensation. It's still incredibly unpleasant, but he doesn't feel like being sick anymore.
He wants to open his eyes, see who's with him and where he is, but before he can, a feeling washes over him. It's like a warm blanket over his body, comforting and covering and Jason somehow just understands he's safe. He inexplicably knows it's Danny at his side, and that he'll be okay.
He wonders if this is a ghost thing.
He doesn't open his mouth to try and ask. He does relax though, and uses what little strength is left in his muscles to push himself a little closer to that hand resting in his hair. He can be mortified later when his ability to care comes back, but at the moment, he's lost his inhibitions.
Danny stiffens, relaxes, stiffens again and removes his hand from Jason. “Sorry.” Comes the awkward mutter near his head.
Jason does blink open an eye then, sluggishly peering up at Danny.
He looks a mess, bags under his eyes, clothes wrinkled, hair mussed, and his mouth is down turned. Those gorgeous eyes are sad and tired, and Jason’s not having any of that.
“For wha’?” He manages to croak out around his raw throat, noting Danny's wince. There's a glass of water and straw in his face after a second of fumbling, and Jason leans himself over to gulp down what he can.
I wanted to explain, you know, this ,” He gestures at Jason and the bucket, “- before it happened. I- I don't know what-”
“You knew?” Jason cuts in, hating how his voice shakes.
Danny won’t meet his eyes. He nods.
“Why didn’t you-” more coughing, more water, “Why wouldn’t you say-”
“I thought I had more time. Frostbite said you had another month before it started and-” Danny runs a trembling hand over his face, voice rising in volume. “-I would have had plenty of time to explain, but something must have sped up the process of forming your core and it forced out the Lazarus juice early or something.” He’s waving a hand frantically now, and Jason tracks the way Danny’s breathing speeds up.
He brings a hand up and grabs the hand waving in the air near his head. Danny stills, stops speaking entirely as Jason clutches his hand, bringing it close to his chest.
“Just- Just tell me what’s going on. I- am I… dying again?” Jason has been pushing those thoughts back, but now that he’s said it aloud, his mind is a loop of ‘what went wrong?’ and ‘god, what's happening??’
“No!” Danny’s voice is shrill, and Jason winces at the pitch. “No, no , no you are not dying. It’s-” He gives Jason a weak smile. “It’s actually really hard to explain, but I'll try.”
Deep breath from Danny. Jason finds himself unconsciously copying the other Halfa.
“You know this much. Every ghost has a core. It’s a massive part of what makes them a ghost. Yours, of course, wasn't fully formed because it was being choked up by that Lazarus stuff.” Jason nods, still holding one of Danny’s hands tight.
Again, he’ll have plenty of time to be embarrassed later. (Given he survives this, of course.)
“Right, So, the fresh ectoplasm was supposed to take the place of the bad crap, but the bad crap has to go somewhere . Your core doesn’t grow very fast, so expelling that bad stuff was supposed to be gradual. Frostbite said we’d know when it was starting up, and it’d only take a few days.”
That unfamiliar name again. Frostbite. Danny must see the question in his eyes because he quickly explains that Frostbite is his ghost doctor of sorts, to which Jason nods.
“Anyways, something sped up your core's growth, and I guess I wasn't noticing or looking in the right place, so this all sprung up on us.”
Like always, Danny referring to the two of them as an ‘us’ makes Jason want to give him a goofy grin. He holds back. He was supposed to be upset at Danny for hiding this important medical information from him.
Danny’s mumbling something to himself, so fast and low Jason can’t hear when his face changes. Realization dawns over Danny, and he turns to face Jason head on, looking cowed.
“...I never explained ghostly obsessions, did i?”
When Jason shakes his head, Danny groans. “That has got to be it. Ancients, I am an idiot .”
Jason does chuckle then, weak and ragged as it is. Danny seems to appreciate it nonetheless. “This is going to be a tough topic.”
He launches into the explanation anyway. By the end of it, Jason thinks he understands.
“So, obsessions are what keep ghosts going? Like, what tethers them to the world?”
Danny nods. “Got it in one. They’re the drive behind why ghosts stick around, and usually stem from… uhm… from how the ghost died.” Danny looks uncomfortable then. “I’m not asking you to share. That’s a very personal thing for people like us. I’m going to be vague here, and tell me to stop if you don’t want to hear but I think it’ll help you understand, but I died young.” Danny turns his face, gazing out towards the window to the side.
“And when I died, all I was thinking was that I wanted someone to make it stop.” Jason hears Danny's shaky, wet sort of inhale and knows that he won’t make eye contact because he’s crying.
He rubs comforting circles with his thumb into the hand he’s holding captive, and Danny continues.
“I wanted someone to save me. And then- then that was all I thought about as a ghost. How I could save people. How I could- could prevent what happened to me from happening to anyone else.” His voice is raw when he says this, and Jason hears the pain there, the anger.
He understands. He gets it and he has the overwhelming need to tell Danny this.
“Mine was like that too.” He blurts.
When Danny whirls to face him, Jason isn’t ready for the sorrow in his eyes.
“Mine- my death… It was like that.” He repeats dumbly. “I was stupid . I- I trusted someone I shouldn't have and I paid for it.”
This time its Danny squeezing his hand in support.
Jason finds the strength to keep going.
“-And I just remember calling out for my dad, begging and pleading for him to come pick me up.” Jason chokes up, pressure building behind his eyes that signals oncoming tears. He’s never been afraid to cry, but in front of someone else? Different. Wrong and pathetic. Words just keep coming, and Jason is powerless to stop them. “But he didn’t come for me. Because he didn’t know I was even there. And I bled out and burned and-”
Danny hushes him softly, crowding close to the edge of the couch. “That’s enough. You don’t have to say anymore, I get it. It's okay.”
Jason hiccups and tilts forward enough to lean against Danny. They’re already holding hands, what more can Jason lose?
Danny stills, and Jason wonders if he screwed it all up. They’d only known each other for a month or two, only interacted over meals. Granted, Jason feels like he’s known Danny a lifetime, and enjoys his company greatly, but still. In terms of friendships, this is a short one. And now Jason's crying all over the guy after puking up toxic neon sludge and dropping a piece of his traumatic backstory™ into the other man's lap.
But Danny’s hand is in his hair again, smoothing it back and carefully untangling strands from one another, and Jason is just so beyond caring about his appearances.
Danny looks like he wants to say something, but he’s holding it back for Jason's sake. He appreciates that thoughtfulness as much as he wishes Danny would just talk.
Jason follows Danny's breathing pattern again, and tries to calm himself down. Danny’s apartment is dimly lit, but his eyes are adjusted to the light level, so he tries to focus on some of the knick knacks scattered about. Alfred taught him that trick for calming down. He picks three and scans them over, noting color and shape and any wear and tear. He tries to picture a story behind each one, and in a matter of minutes, he feels better.
He pushes the memories of the warehouse to the back of his mind where they live and sighs.
He groans and sits up a touch. “Ghost obsessions. What does that have to do with me feeling like I got run over by a semi truck with snow spiked wheels?”
Danny startles, probably not ready for Jason to break the silence so loudly. “Oh, uh, when you do something to… fuel… your obsession, it can grow and charge your core up. Again, obsessions keep ghosts going.”
Understanding hits Jason like a brick to the face. He can say that because he knows exactly what being hit in the face by a brick feels like.
“Oh. That checks out.” He notes Danny's confusion even as he twists his body so he can make direct eye contact with Danny.
“So if my obsession was protecting people, and I regularly protect people, that would have sped this whole thing up?”
Danny nods at his recap, one eyebrow cocked in his confusion. Jason just gives him a smile, though it’s still shaky from the whole of the last hour or so.
“Alright. Danny,” He makes sure that he looks as serious as possible, because he needs Danny to know he’s not joking. Danny leans forward to match Jason’s intent eye contact.
“I am the Red Hood.”
The silence stretches between them for a heartbeat too long before,
...
“ ...Holy shit .” Danny whispers reverently.
Notes:
Not seen: the rest of Dick and Jason’s stakeout
Jason: “-and his eyes. Oh my god his eyes-”
Dick: *nodding encouragingly while Jason pours out his heart, already considering going back on his word because Jason *clearly* like-likes this guy and it's his brotherly duty to be nosy*
Oracle: …
Oracle: “Guys… The warehouse…”
Dick and Jason: “Shit.”
Cue fighting some goons or somethinI am a bit worried this is OOC. Let me know if the characterization is off, as this is the first fic involving either of them that has escaped my drafts.
Chapter 3: ... Growth?
Summary:
Unraveling, family shenanigans, understandings of sorts, and Fire. Maybe not in that exact order.
Notes:
This was oddly hard to trudge through, writing wise. Hurricane messed me up fr.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
All in all, the reveal felt sort of anticlimactic.
Jason was sweat soaked and nauseated, half laying down on the couch, and Danny was just… looking… at him. Jason didn’t know what else to say, and just sat there and made uncomfortable eye-contact.
Danny blinked before standing and pacing the apartment a few times, muttering to himself while Jason watched on, head tilted to the side. Finally, he left the room. Jason was a little concerned when he heard muffled screaming from Danny’s room, but he sat patiently until Danny came back.
Standing in the doorway, Danny takes a deep breath. “So. You’re the Red Hood then. That’s fine. It's cool and okay and fine. And you are also Jason Wayne, which makes Bruce Freaking Wayne THE Batman. Which is okay, and perfectly fine and reasonable.” He takes another deep breath.
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me.” Jason interjects lightheartedly. Danny does not seem amused.
There’s a sound like something cracking that has Jason whipping his head around. It felt… angry? Not angry, but something adjacent to that, which was odd, because how could a sound feel like anything?
Danny jolts at his reaction. "Did you hear that?” He asks, something in his voice sounding a bit too excited.
“Yeah, the hell was that? Sounded like glass or ice or somethin’.”
Danny is at his side in a heartbeat, stars in his eyes. “I think I should start telling you about cores.”
Jason quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, I know I'm supposed to have one. What else is there?”
Danny’s grin gets wider and Jason’s stomach drops lower than it already was. Were his teeth always so sharp?
---
When Jason leaves, he’s positively reeling.
Sure, the explanation was kind of iffy, but Jason thinks he gets the gist.
Each ghost core has a type, and it could be, like, any element, or not element, or- actually, Danny didn’t know how many core types there were, so he had ended up moving on. Then there was the aura stuff and the Ghostspeak. Danny told him what he heard was Danny's core aura projecting a feeling. His core was an ice core, so the sound probably was that of crackling ice.
It clicked for Jason then. That’s how Danny knew he was whatever it is he is when they first met. Danny heard him making core noises or something.
When he asked, Danny lit up. “Oh yeah! Almost forgot that happened! That's not how I knew, I just knew, and, I mean, you only did it that one time, probably because it was your first real encounter with a ghost-slash-ghostly being and all.”
Jason had deadpanned, and Danny rushed to explain what he heard from Jason. Apparently he sounds like firecrackers?
“It could mean a number of things about your core type, but it could also be… uh.” He paused then, shooting an apologetic look at Jason. “Could also be- I guess you could refer to it as, like, after-images of your death? Too early to tell.” They fell into an uncomfortable silence after that until Danny moved on to scheduling their next meal.
He made sure Jason was no longer in danger of being sick and had rid himself of what he needed to. Jason confirmed he didn't feel the pits in his mind anymore. He even went so far as to call Bruce. He said nothing, of course, but when he had no reaction to hearing Bruce's voice, he sighed in relief and hung up. That seemed to be enough to convince both of them he was more or less cured.
It seemed wrong, to have it feel so easy. Sure, he spent a long time being sick, and an even longer time hurting, (Danny said he floated in and out of consciousness for a day and a half, but Jason doesn't remember any of it,) but all things considered, he feels like it should have been more difficult. He was out of commission for three weeks last time he got a stab wound, but this? Purging himself of the plague that crippled him, reduced him to a slobbering attack dog, was gone in days? It was just... strange.
Then again, a lot of things had been easier lately with Danny around.
Danny had disposed of the bucket of filth from his first, and the worst, day of his sickness. He confirms it's been passed off to that Yeti doctor he mentioned earlier to be examined. Before, maybe, he would have been up in arms at the idea. The secrets of whatever was in that crap shouldn't be known. But if it really was just some sort of corrupted ectoplasm, then who better to deal with it that ectoplasmic beings? Jason had no complaints that it was out of his life.
Finally, armed with another jar of pure ectoplasm and a new mark on his calendar, Danny had ushered him from the apartment, claiming he had to go and talk to Frostbite again. Jason, thankfully, had recovered enough that his head was no longer spinning when he moved, so he nodded.
“Call me if you’ve got any problems! Oh also, you might start developingghostlyabilitiesorinstincts but don't worry too much!!” The door was shut in his face, and he didn’t do anything but blink dumbly at it for a minute. He’s about to leave when the door swings open and Danny hurries to add, “And no patrol for a while, yeah? Okay bye!”
The door is slammed again, and Jason shakes his head like he could clear the mess in his skull. It’s probably a good idea to retreat to his apartment now. He casts one last look at the door, giving it a second in case Danny comes out again, but ultimately begins the trek home.
---
The effects of no longer having Lazarus waters clouding his mind are immediate.
There’s a deafening lack of rage. His hands don’t shake with it, don't curl into tight fists. His teeth don’t grind with the effort of not lashing out. He doesn’t need to focus part of himself on staying contained because there’s nothing to hold back. It feels like relaxing a muscle that had been tensed forever, and the overwhelming relief is staggering.
He spends his first few hours as a free man reaching back out to Roy. He wants to visit him and Lian, now that he’s safe to be around. He calls up Alfred, asks the man if he can drop by for lunch. Just the two of them of course. He still isn’t ready to face Bruce, or any of the other bats and birds.
He is astounded that, when he thinks of Bruce, The Bat, he only feels the regular anger. Not the murderous kind, or even the vengeful kind! Just a dull sort of bitterness that has him avoiding the man.
And that insidious creeping feeling in his veins has gone too! There's no impending sense of doom. He doesn't see green anymore, and it's altogether disorientating. He feels unbalanced, like his depth perception is off, and he’s judging distances wrong and missing steps. Still, no uncontrollable rage.
It's marvelous, and extremely difficult to navigate.
Danny told him no patrol, and he is startled by his own lack of refusal. He isn't itching to take to the streets, to deliver justice by his own hand. His men are following his orders and keeping the alley safe on his word in his stead.
Sitting at home, however, makes his skin itch and crawl, so he spends some time just roaming the alley, sometimes texting Roy, or even Dick.
His older brother figure has responded eagerly each time Jason reached out, whether it was a text telling him about something simple he had for lunch, or a picture of a stray Jason saw on his path. Him and Dick were… complicated.
Jason remembers vividly how dismissive and cold the original Robin had been when he first arrived at the manor, had first taken up Robin. But he also remembers how, in time, Dick had tried . Despite the fights with Bruce, Dick did show up when it mattered.
Well, he tried, more often than not. Jason frowns grimly, pushing the thought of his lonely death away. He couldn’t blame Dick for that. He didn’t want to blame Dick for that, as much as part of him might always feel slightly betrayed. He was making an effort to match Dick’s enthusiasm in his own way.
Even if all he could return was a little ‘:)’ text.
---
He slept sparsely, and woke often for reasons he couldn’t decipher. Something was missing.
Daylight, nighttime, He finds himself wandering more and more. He leaves the Red Hood fit behind so he won’t feel the urge to do any real patrol, and just observes.
He knows growing a core probably is supposed to feel weird, but the new, unconscious behaviors he’s developing still throw him for a loop. There was an overwhelming feeling of something being wrong with Jason.
Well, more wrong than normal.
The pit in his stomach and the place in his brain that the Lazarus pits filled were… different. Changed. Something was missing. The Pits were emptied and replaced just as quickly, but whatever was there wasn’t finished. He’s more sensitive to… something, but he doesn't know what it is. It’s like he can feel the fluctuation in the air, or the movement of the earth beneath his feet. He’s hyper aware of that ‘something’, and it’s driving him up the wall.
He tries to leave Crime Alley, but hesitates on the border that would take him over the territory line. Something holds him back, and he finds himself turning around and heading home with little to no justification. It just felt like he needed to stay in his home territory. The idea of leaving made something twist in his gut. It's weird, but not enough for him to call up Danny yet. (Unless it keeps him from lunch with Alfred next week, then this will become a problem.) What makes him want to call Danny is the temperature thing.
When he still had Lazarus clouding his minds, he was uncomfortably warm more often than not. Now? He’s cold all the time, and nothing he does seems to fix it.
He bundles up in jackets and coats and gloves and isn't seen without a lighter on him. Sometimes he’ll light matches and just hold them until they burn too close to his fingers and he has to rush to blow them out. His thermostat sits at a constant 86 degrees, and it’s not enough.
When he wakes up shivering in his bed despite wearing five layers of clothes and being draped in at least seven of his thickest blankets, he makes a decision. He can’t wait two more days until dinner with Danny.
---
The phone call is unexpected, for sure. Danny groggily glances at the clock and notes the time to be 3 something. Regardless, he picks up his phone.
Jason’s voice answers him immediately, growly and sleep-addled. “I’m cold all the time. What's happening?”
Danny rubs the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “What happened to saying hi? Hello? How are you doing?”
Jason makes a frustrated noise. “Hi Danny. I am cold all the fucking time. What. is. wrong. with. me?”
Listening closer, Danny catches the sound of Jason’s teeth chattering and grimaces. “A little more info, please.” Danny sits up, already realizing he’s probably not going back to sleep any time soon.
“No matter what I seem to do, I'm always cold. Always!“ Danny can just picture the snarl on his face. He shakes his head to will the image away, blushing. “I- I must be wearing every coat I own right now, and I'm still shivering. If we don’t figure out how to fix this,” Jason laughs incredulously, “-Then I swear to god I'm gonna jump into a bonfire.”
“Well, first things first, don’t do that. Secondly, I'm coming over.” He hears a relieved sigh.
“I’ll send you the address.”
Confusion. “I already have it?”
Another laugh, this one far more genuine. “Not my old one. My real address.”
---
Danny could just fly on over there, but he wanted to walk. Wanted to try and get a feel for if anything had changed in the air of Crime Alley. If his, and Frostbite’s, suspicions were at all correct, then he wanted to confirm it.
Sure enough, when he stepped from the apartment and onto the street, he could feel it. A blanketing presence, though still light, that sang of possession. Of Jason’s control and protection over Crime Alley.
Danny might have felt uncomfortable invading a haunt so blatantly, living in a haunt that wasn’t just his own, but something about Jason just made him feel comforted. Safer. Jason’s core was growing fast enough he’d already managed to claim all of Crime Alley, probably unconsciously. When he grew into his power fully, he’d be a force to reckon with.
---
Jason’s apartment complex looks… not as bad as the first one he let Danny into, but not great. Still, he tries to give the man the benefit of the doubt.
He knocks, and Jason opens the door quickly, almost like he’d been waiting beside it. Danny says nothing about that, and just lets himself be ushered inside.
And wow, it is nice in here. A nice entryway, more than one room, warm lighting… and stiflingly hot. Danny is already sweating. He fights the urge to go ghost just so the heat won’t affect him. He turns to Jason, but any words he had die on his tongue.
Jason is positively bundled up. He looks ten times bulkier than normal with the amount of layers he’s wearing, scarves around his throat and gloves on and everything. He glares down at Danny through the gaps in his beanie-scarf combo, bristling like an alley cat. Danny finds he isn’t nervous though. Jason's murderous glare has no real anger behind it.
The sound of crackling fire emanates from him, but it pops and hisses anxiously. Despite the overwhelming heat in the apartment and the clothing and all, Danny catches a near imperceptible shudder run through Jason. He looks more miserable than anything now.
“So… I think we can definitively say you do not have an ice core now. Actually, we should just jump to assuming it’s fire based.”
“Fine. Good. How do I get warm?” His voice is muffled, but there’s a desperate edge there.
“You know how we were joking about the whole jumping into a fire pit thing?”
“Uh… yeah? Why?”
Danny looks at him with a small, sorta shaky grin. “That… might be a plausible cure.”
---
He convinces Jason to shed some layers before they head out. He retains his scraggly alley cat look, even glaring sorta pitifully at Danny.
He had already phoned his men, and Danny was surprised by how much Jason trusts his underlings. Apparently they had a warehouse full of old wooden pallets secured by the docks and were perfectly fine leaving gallons of lighter fluid and boxes of matches with no reasoning or anything. As soon as Jason and Danny arrived, they’d peace out without any questions.
“My men are loyal. And desensitized to my bullshit.” Hearing his voice through the helmet modulator was odd, but Danny was put a bit more at ease by hearing the contended, warm crackling of hearth flames emanating from Jason still. Danny thinks he still hears a few of those firecrackers snapping off in between the regular fire, and he wants to smile a bit more every time he catches it.
It was new, how constant and strong the sound was. Danny was happy, though. It meant Jason was on the mend. Soon, he’d be able to pick up on Danny’s core sounds too, not just when the emotion is strong.
…
With how Danny’s been feeling about Jason lately, that might not be the best development.
---
Nightwing’s comm crackles to life. He’s tying up some mugger and phoning Gotham PD, so he finished that all up quickly to answer. Oracle speaks first.
“Listen, Wing. I know you said to stay away from Hood and his new friend, but-”
Nightwing frowns. “O,” he cuts her off, crossing his arms over his chest despite knowing she can’t see the action. “He doesn’t want us snooping in! Hood is already antsy knowing about RR’s background check.” He chides. “Let him have a friend! It’s good that he’s got at least one normal friend around.”
There’s a sigh across the line and Red Robin’s line connects with a fizz. “Yeah, normal is great and all, but ever since their last meetup, Red Hood hasn't been seen.”
Nightwing tenses, much as he tries not to. “But the person beneath the hood has been? Seen around, that is.”
“Affirmative. Hood has been picked up on cameras all over Crime Alley making wide, looping patterns. He’s been… pacing, almost. I would call it a patrol, but he’s never seen in the armor, and he just walks the line between Crime Alley and whatever chunk of Gotham it borders.”
Nightwing scales the building to his left, getting to the rooftops. He stretches absentmindedly, thinking. “Like… Like a wolf?” He asks.
“I mean, I guess the comparison is there? He is only covering the borders of his ‘territory’.”
There’s a thoughtful humm down the line. Batman. “What’s this about an unknown ‘friend’?”
Nightwing groans. He wasn’t supposed to know about that! Oh, he’s totally going to scare Danny off. “It’s not important right now. Can we get to the point?” Nightwing mutters, running a hand down his face.
“Oh. Yes. Anyways, Hood has broken his recent behavioral pattern. He’s armored up and headed to a warehouse by the docks, if the movement of his gang is to be believed. They’re… gathering things.” Red Robin sounds uneasy, and his tapping on a keyboard is fast enough and frantic enough to be heard on the comms.
“Send up the coords. We’ll be there shortly.”
“B, no . He’s been doing so good! If he finds out we were spying on him like this-” Dick’s protest goes unheard, and his wrist watch lights up with a map, green pin blinking mockingly. Oracle, that traitor.
Still, he starts moving that direction. It’ll be better if he’s there for damage control. He fights off the worry that wants to overtake him.
Jason has been off lately, but he wanted to chalk it up to this new friend. A potential good influence, or an ally. Maybe even a partner. Daniel Nightingale.
Now, he’s worried that it does have something to do with Daniel. Nightwing picks up the pace.
—
The warehouse looks just as sketchy as Danny thought it would. I mean, it's a textbook gang warehouse. Of course, this one doesn't have any nefarious dealings going on.
Danny, invisible and intangible, hovers over Jason’s shoulders while he dismisses his underlings and eyes the pile of palettes. The wood isn’t in the best condition, but Danny didn’t really expect anything different. It’ll work either way.
Once Danny does a sweep on the place and ensures none of Jason’s ‘employees’ remained, he faded into view, still dressed in his ghostly hazmat suit.
Jason takes off the hood so that he's just in a simple domino mask. He runs his hands through his hair to fluff it up out of the flattened look the helmet gave it, and Danny has to look away, blushing. Jason clears his throat and Danny turns back hurriedly, hoping Jason takes the green tint to his cheeks as a Ghost thing.
“So… Fire pit?”
“Oh! Yeah! Hahaha…”
Jason looks at the wood pile thoughtfully. “Maybe we should rearrange it a bit?”
Danny and nods, swooping up to see from above. “Yeah, maybe make it more of a neat stack than a tower...” Danny makes quick work of it, spreading out the palettes so the structure resembles more of a big flat platform of sorts. A solid base.
Jason spends this time dragging the gallons of lighter fluid over. The fact that he doesn't appear to struggle in the slightest with all the weight is unfair. It is ridiculously unfair, Danny thinks.
Danny scoops up a thing of lighter fluid and flies up to drizzle it over the pile of wood. Jason joins in, nose wrinkling a bit at the acrid scent. Once the palettes are well and fully drenched they both step back.
Danny takes note of the way Jason’s aura has drawn close to him, as if it was trying to protect him.
“We don’t have to do this, you know.” He murmurs, eyeing how hard Jason’s staring at the woodpile.
Jason hums softly, low in his throat, thinking. Finally, he shakes his head and taps his domino mask to turn the lenses clear, sighing. “I think you and I both know this has to happen.” He shifts restlessly. Danny was sure there must be some ghostly instinct drawing him to the stack, and Jason clearly didn't know how to feel about that.
“We could wait it out a bit. Go over other options? I don't… I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like this is your only choice.” Danny pauses before reaching a hand out to rest softly on Jason’s shoulder. Despite how cold Jason claims to be, even through all those layers, he’s burning up. “Especially if it triggers bad memories of your death.” He hopes his voice sounds as firm as he wants it to.
Jason smiles, and it’s just as warm as his skin though his clothes. “Thanks, but I… I’m ready for this. If it helps, it helps. ‘Sides, you’ll be there to get me out if something goes wrong, yeah?” There’s a twinkle in Jason’s eye that makes Danny’s stomach feel like it's full of butterflies.
Oh. Jason’s putting trust in Danny. That’s sure to kick those ghostly instincts aflutter. He has to fight back a pleased purr, and just nods at Jason. Somehow, that is enough for the other man.
Jason strides forward, lighting a match with an air of determination. He flicks his wrist almost elegantly, and the wood platform roars into flames. He stumbles back a few steps so it doesn't catch him, and turns to Danny.
There’s a bit of uncertainty in his eyes, and Danny quells it with a reassuring grin and a flare of his own aura. It settles something in Jason, and he turns back to the flames.
They stretch high, but the lighter fluid can only keep them high for so long.
Multiple things happen at once.
First, Jason crouches before taking off at a sprint and throwing himself into the fire. He disappears into the swirling smoke and uncountable shades of orange-yellow.
Then, Danny darts after him, but hesitates on the edge of the flames, ears and senses attuned to Jason’s core. So far, so good.
After that, the flames boom, reaching hungry fingers into the air and clawing, the color shifting from orange-yellow to a rich sort of crimson. Relief drowns Danny. His suspicion was right. They just needed to kickstart things to finish this whole process off.
And finally, someone above them in the rafters of the warehouse screams, hoarse and angry, and three shadowy figures drop to the ground behind Danny, capes flaring behind them. One of them charges Danny immediately, making an almost inhuman sound of rage. Their weapons crackle with electricity, and Danny freezes at the sight of the sparks.
Notes:
I just like the idea of Dick bonding with Jason. I know it's popular in these kinds of fics to have it be Tim that has Jason warm up to them first, but Idk. Big brother supremacy or smth.
Also i know the endings abrupt. i wrote for too long and decided to split it here and continue the rest in the next chapter. This was the most natural cut off point.
Chapter 4: Out of the pan, into the... fire?
Summary:
A fight, discovery, and tense situations.
Notes:
Thank you everyone for commenting and being so kind! If you see this Julorean, your comments were so thoughtful it gave me the will to clean this up and put it out there lol. Hope everyone enjoys!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
'And finally, someone above them in the rafters of the warehouse screams, and three shadowy figures drop to the ground behind Danny, one of them charging Danny immediately, weapon crackling with electricity.'
-------
Danny snaps from his trance, looking away from the electrically changed batons. He throws his hands up, trying to ease the tension in the air. Despite his ghostly form nullifying most of the heat, it feels stifling now.
Nightwing has not stopped stalking forward, but Batman is still as a statue in front of him, Red Robin at his side, silent.
“Hold on! This isn't what it looks like!” He calls desperately to them. “I can expl- ack!” He cuts himself off to dodge a swing by Nightwing, jerking his full body to the side to avoid the arcs of electricity.
“What is there to explain? It looks cut and dry to me.” Red Robin speaks up, his voice cold and startlingly empty of emotion.
Oh ancients, this all did have to look pretty bad. I mean, from the perspective of someone who didn’t know what was going on, Danny just coerced Jason to throw himself on a bed of coals. And the fact it was clear Danny wasn't human... Well, he'd jump to mind-control or something just as sinister if he were the bats.
Danny has to turn his attention to Nightwing to dodge another strike, turning intangible so the escrima sticks pass through him. There’s a disconcerting tingling left in place after it passes through, and Danny shudders.
Nightwing makes another wordless snarl at him, lunging again.
He needs to explain. He needs to defend himself!
“It’s not like that! If you’d just liste-”
Nope. He has to instinctively bring an arm up, catching Red Robin's bo staff against his forearm with a grunt. It hurts, sure, but not as much as another ghosts attack would.
Not as much as the electricity from Nightwing would.
This is Jason’s family, he can’t fight back. He’s too used to fighting ghosts, and has trouble keeping that strength back. Switching back to human for more managable strength is obviously not an option, for identity reasons if not just for his safety. Overall, there's too much of a risk of hurting them.
In that same vein, he can’t fly up or stop defending the bonfire and prevent himself from being hurt. If they interrupt Jason while he’s transforming and getting used to his ghost half fully for the first time, the consequences could be disastrous. Like, actually dead-dead Jason.
Danny had seen de-stabilization before, and the idea of it happening to Jason made his stomach roll.
Up against two of Gotham’s best fighters and her best strategist, all of whom he couldn’t fight back against? Well, Danny knew immediately he was dealt the worst hand. Still, he had to try. Jason needed him. The thought alone strengthened his resolve.
The dance was simple. He would switch between intangible and physical to block each attack depending on who it was. If he thought about it almost like a video game, it helped distract from the sheer terror he was feeling at the situation. He stay physical to bodily stop Red Robin from getting too close to the fire and go intangible so that Nightwing’s electric escrima couldn’t touch him.
He hated how badly he was trembling at the just the memory of lightning racing over his body, arcing through his bones, cold and lonely and dying. He couldn’t let Nightwing land a hit.
Thankfully, Nightwing was so wholeheartedly focused on attacking him that he didn’t think to split from Red Robin and draw his attention too much more than it already was. If they broke apart and went to opposite sides of the bonfire, Danny, and Jason, were screwed. He couldn’t be in two places at once. This fight had to stay close. But, between the two of them, he completely lost sight of Batman.
He realizes his mistake when he hears something skid across the concrete the his far side. He turns to look so fast his head spins a little.
Batman has hooked a chunk of old rebar around some of the wood in the pile, using it to drag and fling the lit chunks away from the main stack, sending sparks and burning wood across the warehouse.
Danny’s eyes go wide with panic.
If he breaks up the bonfire, the flames won’t be so concentrated. If the fire isn’t as big and hot, it could ruin everything. Danny doesn't know much about fire cores, but he knows a lot about cores needing the right conditions to form. Frostbite gave him an earful when he explained Jason. He has to stop Batman.
Unfortunately, the panic stills him for too long, so as he’s moving to run towards Batman, Nightwing’s escrima comes down on his upper arm. The pain is much more intense than it should be. Stronger. Lightning fills his veins, spreading down his arm and locking his joints.
His jaw falls open of its own accord, and he screams. He manages to hold back a ghostly wail, but it’s a very near thing, and he can feel the strain of holding it back.
He knew staying in his ghost form would have its consequences, he just doesn’t know how he forgot how bad it could be.
His body jolts and he throws himself as far from the lightning as he can. In doing so, he finds himself cornered against the flames. Backed up to the roar of the fire.
If he flees, he risks Jason’s life, but if he stays, he risks himself.
One is worth much more than the other, so he plants his feet and tries to straighten up. He needs to look strong. He’s supposed to be better. He's the Ghost King for Ancient's sakes. And yet, despite his title, he knows he’s not at his best now.
He hasn’t sparred with anyone in the zone recently, hasn’t kept up with the mock battles. He hasn’t fully come into the power of the Ghost King either. Sure, he's gained some benefits, but it's mostly knowledge and a minor jump in power. As a Halfa, he was already stronger than most ghosts.
Still, he’s considered too young to be truly crowned in ghost years, so the title is his, but most of the big powers are withheld until his body is strong enough to handle all that being king means. Or, rather, until he has no mortal body to worry about.
Nightwing stalks closer on his right, escrima crackling, teeth bared. Batman closes in on his left, fists clenched at his side. And Red Robin stands dead center, bo staff at the ready, whispering commands into his comm unit.
Gritting his teeth, he clutches his useless, numb arm close. He's had worse.
Final stand it is.
---
The fire isn’t burning, or scalding, or anything really.
In fact, it doesn’t feel like fire at all.
Jason had his eyes squeezed shut the second he ran and threw his body onto the platform, but he cracks them open now. Then both fly open, his jaw dropping. He’s just… in the middle of the palettes, all alight, and he’s fine.
More than that, he isn’t achingly cold anymore. He doesn't know what he expected, but for some reason it wasn't this.
Something hungry and wanting in him was filled and contented. He wants to flop down on his back, roll in the fire, revel in the heat that wraps around him like an embrace. He wants to laugh, to smile.
It all just feels... good.
Smoke curls up over his head, stretching into the warehouse rafters, obscuring his view of anything but the flames.
It feels right, like this is all he ever needed. Finally. His skin fits over his bones and the hole in his chest, in his head, is fixed and new.
He thinks he hears something distantly, but the fire eats up anything coherent before it reaches him. And wow, how had he never noticed just how beautiful fire could be? It's so intricate. He could sit and watch it dance forever.
Something creeps over him and he has an overwhelming need to move. It's like an itch at the base of his spine, which makes him frown.
Everything's perfect here. Why is there a creeping feeling coming over him?
He stands taller, clenching and unclenching his fists, and a feeling washes over him, head to toe. It’s almost like rippling water, but of course, it’s not. Instead, he wants to compare it to licking flames, rolling up over his body like those curling fingers of smoke, up up up.
He blinks, and when he opens his eyes next, he is changed. Different.
Everything is lighter. He looks himself over, inspecting the change.
The red hood armor is fitted over him snuggly, but the shape is a bit different. It’s almost melting in places and layered like plate armor. The edges look molten, practically glowing orange-yellow, and the gaps in armor are filled with light.
If he looks closer, the light shifts and flares with the flames around him. It's mesmerizing.
His leather jacket is absent, and instead, a heavy cape is fastened around his neck, flowing out behind him and feathered with tongues of flame like wings. His boots are sturdy as ever, and shine like metal. Wrought iron trims some plates, winding up through his armor.
He feels… strong.
I mean, he knows he’s strong physically, but something about this change makes him feel sturdy. Like he’s tethered to the ground and steady. Unmoving, if he wanted to be.
There’s a weight on his back, under that cape, that is subconsciously forcing him to shift his weight. He reaches behind him curiously, eye widening further as he pulls a properly massive sword from a sheath beneath his cape.
Despite the fact he’ll clearly need both hands to properly wield this claymore, it’s lightweight in his hands. The iron shines with the light of the fire, and he tests his grip.
A rush of power washes him over, nearly bowling him over, and he has the sudden realization that this… this change and all it comes with… Whatever he’s been bestowed, it is important.
He’s preparing to sheath it again when he hears something.
No, someone.
They cry out in pain, and there’s an edge like ice breaking, like snow roaring down the mountainside in an avalanche. The sound is horrifyingly familiar in nature, and every muscle in his body tenses.
He blinks, and the fire that was once opaque and blocking his view seems to have cleared. He still feels it lapping at his skin, so he knows it's not miraculously gone, but he can see. And what he sees enrages him.
Danny, backed up to the fire Jason is in, face scrunched in pain and fear. He’s clutching his arm close, flicking in and out of sight, like he’s warring with himself.
Three people he can’t quite make out are closing in on his friend. That alone has Jason ready to burst from the fire and defend him, but before he can move, he sees another thing. It flickers in his view, but he catches sight of it clearly for just a moment. That moment is more than enough.
A crown of flames frozen into place hovers over Danny’s head.
Jason’s king was hurt. Someone has injured The King, a title that Jason didn’t know could have so much weight until the thought came to him unbidden.
One of the figure makes a move to close in, and
Jason
sees
red.
---
There’s a near animalistic noise from the fire, and a shadow lurches from the pile.
A sword, nearly four feet of solid, gleaming metal slams into the ground, cutting Danny off from the Bats. It embeds itself into the concrete, sending sparks flying. Where it sits, blade sunk into the ground, the concrete of the warehouse has turned molten and pooled into liquid magma rock.
Beside Danny stands… the Red Hood.
Well, maybe not quite the Red Hood as Danny remembers him looking, but so so similar. This person had the same face, red domino mask over the eyes and all. His hair was different, though. Instead of a white strip breaking up deep black curling hair, the strip was black and his hair was platinum white.
“You will not harm him.” comes the voice, grating.
There’s an otherworldly echo and the sound of the crackling fire intensifies, but otherwise, the voice was Jason.
Relief floods Danny, but realization comes quickly after.
He looks over at Jason, eyes getting wider and wider as he drags his gaze across Jason’s new form. The cape, the iron edges to the armor, the sword… Oh shit.
Danny knew he was pretty attached to Jason, had been from the moment he laid eyes on him, but he always thought it was just them being similar kinds of ghosts. Compatible. He never thought… Ancients, no wonder he was so drawn to Jason!
Finding his Fright Knight out in the wild, and long before either of them truly died… The odds were astronomical. How could he begin to try and explain? Did Jason know? Did he feel it too, the connection tying them both together?
He could think about and ponder all of that later when their lives weren’t being threatened. He needed to diffuse this situation, fast.
Smoke pours from behind Jason’s clenched teeth, curling into the air near gracefully. The silence was only broken by the churning blaze behind them, somehow not dying down despite surely having run its fuel supply down by now.
“Hood?” Comes Nightwings hesitant voice.
Jason blinks, refocusing on the three bats. He blinks again, and recognition dawns over his face slowly. He doesn't quite relax, and he certainly does not remove the sword from where it rests, protecting Danny from the bats, but he does straighten up and stop gritting his teeth so harshly. “Dick.” he barks, and Danny winces.
“Now isn’t really the best time for name calling, Hood.” Danny hisses lowly, fighting the urge to inch closer to his Knight.
His words are ignored.
Batman takes a menacing step forward, focusing solely on Danny now.
“What did you do to him?!” He snarls, and Danny flinches back a bit at the fury there.
Jason’s leather gloves creak as his grip tightens on the handle of his sword. “He didn’t do anything to me. It is in your best interest to back the hell up.” Each word is carefully measured and spat out.
“Don’t lie to me.” Batman’s voice is cold. He doesn't step forward but he also doesn't move away.
“Hood? What’s happening?” Nightwing tries again, his voice cracking on the question.
“Stay out of this, Wing. It’s none of your business.”
Red Robin’s face scrunches a bit. “I’d argue against that. If- if you’re in danger-”
Jason groans exasperatedly, and more smoke streams out of his mouth. “Shut up.” He hisses, and Danny can feel his aura spike around him defensively.
Batman’s intense stare hasn’t left Danny’s frozen form. Not how he imagined meeting Jason's family, for sure.
Danny sees him reach for a batarang at the same time Jason does, and they react together. Danny goes intangible long enough to scramble onto Jason’s shoulders, wrapping his ghostly form around Jason like a cat, and Jason moves with him, bringing his sword up to block the both of them.
“What are you doing?” Nightwing yells, but not at them, no. He’s facing Batman now, body shifted just barely like he’s trying to hide Jason and Danny behind him.
The Bat huffs and clenches one of his batarangs tightly in a fist. “Clearly that… being, is threatening Hood. Did you completely miss the color of its eyes? Lazarus Green, Nightwing.”
“But that’s Ja- Hood, Batman. Maybe we should take a moment? Rationalize?” Red Robin speaks up, trying to be the voice of reason he always is.
Neither Nightwing’s or Red Robin’s protests do any good, because Batman’s flinging a batarang at Danny over Jason’s shoulder, and Jason does not seem pleased.
In fact, Danny’s willing to bet if he doesn’t do something, then Jason might actually bring harm to his family. Jason’s Fright Knight instinct is going to override any of his usual inhibitions, which is the last thing he needs. Especially when Jason doesn’t even know what he’s become, when he has no idea how tied to Danny he is.
Danny doesn’t want to be the reason Jason doesn’t have control over himself. He’d already been through enough of that with the Lazarus sickness.
Danny makes a split second decision.
Jason lunges forward with Soul Shredder just as Danny rips a rift into the ground at their feet. The blade never makes contact with Batman, because both Danny and Jason are tumbling haphazardly down into the Ghost Zone too quickly for them to do anything but hold on.
Notes:
I imagine, further into the future, Jason just has a "self-care day" each month or so where he just curls up in a massive bonfire and relaxes. No one can really bother him because no one can get too close, and he loves his day off.
I think this chapter was a bit shorter than i wanted it to be, but the next one I'm working on felt too different in tone and vibe it didn't feel right to put them together in the same chapter. I'm sorry for another cliff hanger!!!
(I want to draw what i picture Jason looks like because my description was long and, i feel, rambling. If i do, i will let everyone know. Also!! I don't think Bruce is a bad guy, and i don't want to portray him as some kind of villain. He still wants to be Jason's dad, but as we all know, he deals with emotions horribly. He believes he just saw his son die and be brought back, again, and something was wrong/he's still in active danger. Jason's off-the-bat combativeness doesn't help the perception. Brucie's gonna make mistakes.)
Chapter 5: home sweet... huh?
Summary:
Meeting Danny's home, A hard talk, Red Yarn, and Revelations.
Notes:
Sorry for the gap between updates!! I had the idea down, but then i moved to college and it got me. But we persevere!! Survive, Adjust, Grow and all that jazz.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"Jason lunges forward with Soul Shredder just as Danny rips a rift into the ground at their feet. The blade never makes contact with Batman, because both Danny and Jason are tumbling haphazardly down into the Ghost Zone too quickly for them to do anything but hold on."
---
Jason blinks his eyes open to a startling sight. Twice in such a short time, Jason is shocked out of words.
He’s on some sort of rocky outcropping in a dark green-gray void. Different shades of green swirl and dance in the darkness around him, shifting and spiking like the aurora borealis.
Danny, still in his ghostly form, hovers at Jason’s side. He sighs in relief when Jason shakily sits up.
“Oh thank the Ancients. You passed out again and i should’ve expected that-”
“Danny?”
“-but I just had to get us out of there before you did something you regretted! And you don’t know anything about Soul Shredder yet and i had NO idea you-”
“Danny…”
“-were a Knight! I mean, how could I have known? But still! If I had just explained more then maybe we could’ve been more prepa-”
“DANNY!” Jason finally snaps, a bit louder than he meant. Danny flinches back and his cheeks glow green as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Slow down. I know you don’t need to breathe when you’re like this, but just… calm, yeah?”
Danny nods, and floats back from Jason a pace, closing his eyes and shaking his hands out. “Yeah.” He hums. “Yeah, okay.”
Jason watches Danny carefully, trying to give him a moment despite all the burning questions inside Jason. He doesn't get a chance to ask them.
“We should move. I can take you to my keep.” Jason cocks an eyebrow, not quite recognizing the word, but Danny just smiles and waves him off. "Sorry. My house. I should take you to my house." He grabs Jason’s arm and hauls him to his feet.
Jason forgets just how strong Danny can be until he pulls a move like that. He doesn’t even fight the blush that covers his cheeks.
Danny doesn’t even seem to notice, just holding tight to Jason’s wrist and floating forward so Jason has to walk with him.
When they reach the edge of the rock formation, it drops off into a roiling emerald and forest green abyss.
Jason stares at it, utterly confused. I mean, he's lived in some interesting places, but this tops all of those places combined because at least those shitty apartments were corporeal. He kind of feels bad for Danny.
Except, the abyss doesn’t stay an abyss. No, it begins to morph .
Rising, at first a monolithic tower of stone before more and more of the structure reveals itself. It pulls itself from the depths of the void as if the swirling colors of the empty space were a sea of water, and this… this castle was cutting through it effortlessly. Chunks of the stone crack and splinter off, but are just as quickly repaired by something unseen, spiderwebs forming and closing.
It's almost mesmerizing, and Jason knows his jaw is dropped, but he can’t look away.
It continues its ascent, and Jason's eyes catch on a dozen spiraling staircases, stained glass windows that shift and dance like the void around them, bricks stacked in impossible ways forming towers and ramparts and bridges interconnecting towers and buildings and God.
The gates are in front of them now.
God .
The iron twists and curves into intricate shapes, and those shapes sit in bigger, more intricate shapes. The gate is massive, easily one and half stories, and grander than anything Jason could have ever thought up. The castle itself is too much to look at, but he can’t look away. There’s so much happening, so much changing and moving that it is legitimately giving Jason a headache. There are colors in those panes of glass there he couldn’t even name, and the way the glass shatters and comes back in new images captivates.
He gets glimpses of figures he's only seen in the dusk between wakefulness and sleep, of horrible futures and twisted deep pasts. He sees people and places and events in a flashing sequence of foreshadow, and the terror is acute and heavy in his ribcage. He doesn't recognize any of the faces, but the weight of knowledge threatens to choke him.
A hand comes up to cover his face, coated in a white glove, blocking his view and snapping him from his trance. Danny holds it there for a long moment until Jason’s breathing returns to normal.
When Danny pulls away, Jason’s view still spins and fluctuates, morphing Danny’s face. He blinks a few times to clear the glowing afterimages of something around Danny. Danny just looks concerned.
“Yeah… I should’a prepared you for that. It can be a lot.” Danny laughs apologetically.
“A lot??” Jason chokes out, thumping at his chest with a fist as if he could restart his heart. “You live in a cosmic horror. ” Danny laughs again.
“You get used to it. It... mostly behaves when I’m around.” Danny shrugs. “Might’ve been trying to impress you.”
Jason gapes, but seeing Danny look over at his freaky house with a fond smile, he decides to shut up. Sure, why not? Semi-sentient castle house, potentially omnipotent. Okay.
“Now come on! I’ve got so much to explain.” With that, Danny snatches his hand, and ignoring the, totally manly , sound Jason makes, pulls him towards the castle. As they approach, the gates begin to swing open with a sound that, again, Jason could not begin to describe. Chunks of rock, slabs of slate, and more of those sheets of colored glass pour from the entrance of the castle, dripping and flowing from the mouth of the open gate like liquid to form a bridge over the yawning gap between them and the castle doors.
None of those materials should be able to do what they’re doing, but Jason can’t dwell on that because Danny is still tugging him forward. Danny does pause at the display by the castle, however. “Wow, yeah. It’s totally trying to impress you. It hardly ever puts on such a show.”
Jason nods almost deliriously. He feels drunk. “I’m glad your eldritch abode likes me.” He murmurs, trying not to trip but also deliberately not looking down. That gets a chuckle from Danny, at least.
They head up through the gates, through the properly massive doors behind that, and into the most incomprehensible front room he’s ever seen. His head spins again, and he tastes metal in the back of his throat.
Danny's hand swipes at his nose and comes away coated in thick green blood. When had his nose started bleeding? Danny murmurs something about "adverse side effects," and his hand covers Jason's eyes again.
“Uhm… how about you just let me lead you, yeah? Can you trust me?” Jason nods near instantly.
“‘Course.” He chimes up, voice a bit too quiet for his liking, but he is utterly overwhelmed and can’t do anything about it.
With a hand over his eyes and another on his back, under his cape and threaded into the plating, Danny guides him forward.
At least it’s still mostly warm here. That awful chill that had chased him, plagued him in Crime Alley mostly dissipated with his shift.
In ghost form, Danny gives off more of a chill, so Jason’s torn between welcoming Danny’s touch and shying away. He stumbles a bit, but with Danny to catch him, he feels safe enough.
Finally, there’s a sound like a door creaking open and the temperature rises ever so slightly. Jason has no idea how he knows that when the degree shift was so small, but he notices.
The pressure of Danny’s hand leaves his face, but the one on his back remains. “You can open your eyes now!”
Jason does and looks over the finest library he’s ever seen. The stacks reach up, up, up into a starry ceiling that moves as if with the rotation of earth, and those towering shelves of books stretch out so far Jason has to squint to see the end of the room. The carpet is a rich, comforting red and the furniture looks plush and gold lined. There are tables about, some with piles of books on them, open or not. On the far side of the room, a massive fireplace crackles happily away, and Jason’s stepping closer to it near instinctually.
He pauses, unsure of himself before he feels Danny nudge him forward. “Sit somewhere comfortable. What I'm about to tell you… Well, I don't know how you’ll take it.”
Well, that's not ominous at all.
Jason walks closer and the heat of the fireplace floods through him. He sits on the brick wall in front of the fire, letting the flames lick over his back. Danny sits a bit further away in a worn spinny chair, ghostly tail splitting into legs.
“Well.” Danny jumps right into it. “I said there’s some things to explain, yeah?”
Jason nods. Danny mimics him, nodding as well.
“Okay.”
It's quiet for a long moment while Danny does everything except make eye contact with Jason. “I don’t know where to start.” He says, finally, after tracing the path of stars in motion across the ceiling.
The words are familiar to Jason and bring him a sense of deja vu. He shakes it off and thinks. Finally, he remembers something and snaps his fingers.
“King. I remember that. I was in the fire, and I needed to leave because the King was hurt, and it was you in the crown.” Jason tries not to sound like he’s accusing Danny of anything, but he really doesn’t know what to think. Danny hadn’t explained much of anything about the inner workings of the Ghost realm, stating he’d tell Jason everything once Jason could see for himself.
Danny curls into the seat, looking smaller and more nervous. “Oh. yeah, that’d be a start.” He breathes deep, and Jason watches him compose himself, sees gears click and turn in his head. He still doesn’t look at Jason, but he does begin to speak. “Ghosts can be… a bit off the rails. They’re generally predictable because of their obsessions and patterns, but that doesn’t make them easy to corral.”
Danny looks so tired all of a sudden. “That’s part of the reason the Ghost Zone has a King. Someone to facilitate disputes, settle real fights, not play fights, and overall, someone to keep ghosts in check. But with some access to the alive world, a whole new bunch of problems arise. Ghosts also need protecting now. They need to be kept out of human affairs and away from eyes. It isn't safe for them, especially with the increase in organizations dedicated to hunting ghost’s down.”
Danny looks at Jason, finally, and he looks sad. “I’m sure I don't need to go in depth. You know what happens when people get too curious.” Jason winces, and scoots back on the bricks to take more comfort from the flames. “Anyway. The last King… Well-” Danny sighs. “Yeah, this is going to be a long, rough story. You can get in the fireplace if you want.” He notes offhandedly, casually.
“Oh, thank God.” Jason murmurs, swinging a leg over the bricks, then the other, flopping his torso and legs into the ashes. He sighs in relief and props his elbows up on the bricks to rest his head in his hands. The heat is heavenly, and he sinks into it gratefully.
“Yeah I figured you didn’t spend enough time in your first fire. I’ll get to that after.” Danny says, smiling for the first time since they got into the room. It quickly drops as he launches into his story.
And… wow.
---
Tim is not freaking out.
Dick and Bruce are yelling back and forth while Tim paces a hole into the stone floor of the Batcave. It’s not unusual, the two of them fighting.
They have their peaceful moments, and they have their arguments. Sure, this one is worse than some of the last ones, but Tim’s not freaking out about that.
Some glowing green , levitating , halfway see through man kidnapped Jason. There had to be mind control involved, but Tim can’t find traces of anything. That glowy man left nothing behind. No DNA, no trace particulate, nothing .
And, for Jason to have come from that firepit changed like he was, it had to have some importance, right?? Except, Tim has analyzed ashes and chunks of wood and he hasn’t found anything. He’s even tested lighting some of the pieces on fire, but nothing happens. For all intents and purposes, it’s literally just wood on fire. But no, there has to be something more.
There has to be.
Every avenue turns up more and more nothingness, and Tim may be losing it. Hence the continuous circle walking.
He wasn’t too close to Jason. Sure, the boy was his Robin, but after the Tower, things were just always different.
Jason had made an effort to come back, and showed signs of changing from whatever happened, but still. He snapped often, mostly at Bruce, left from any gathering after an hour and would be seen demolishing muggers after, and generally was more hostile than not. At least he never snapped at Tim.
He was always careful, avoiding Tim like the plague. It was like whatever took hold of him when he looked at Bruce dissipated when he laid eyes on Tim. Tim once saw Jason walk into the same room Tim was in and, upon seeing only Tim was in the room, turned and left immediately.
A million apologies were great, and Tim wanted so badly to accept them, but until he stopped flinching at seeing glints of metal in the darkness of a room, he kept a distance too.
A few months back, Jason really started changing. He patrolled with the rest of the family more than when it was strictly necessary and was outright friendly toward them. He exchanged words with Tim. Tim was so sleep-deprived, he didn’t fully believe it till he watched back the footage of being called by name and subsequently coughing up coffee.
It was surreal. It was nearly overnight.
Almost… supernatural.
Tim’s eyes light up, and he darts over to his main corkboard. It’s quick work to pluck all the photos, pins, and red string off, and he discards them to the side.
Yes… This was something.
Jason’s change coincides with him meeting that Nightingale boy. Oh, that file Tim put together would come in handy after all! Daniel was the last to be seen with Jason before Jason’s odd territory patrol.
That man in the hazmat suit… Jason’s strangeness… His shift into that flaming thing… and Daniel Nightingale. How does it tie together?
Tim fishes out a brand new skein of red string and gets to work.
---
Jason’s heard so many things from Danny that have shocked him to his core, no pun intended, but this . This has to outrank any of that. Jason thinks he was honestly less shocked and horrified when finding out he was still half dead.
“God, Danny.” His mouth is suddenly dry, thinking about everything Danny had had to do as a teenager . Single combat with the Tyrant King of the entire Ghost Zone, constantly defending a town where he was attacked by his own family, and way, way too much more.
“And you’re King now? Just like that? What about your life? How do you manage it?” Jason knows it’s too many questions all at once, but he has the strangest urge to crawl from the fire and wrap Danny up in the biggest hug, and he’s really holding himself back.
Danny waves his hand dismissively. “ Technically , I'm the Ghost King. I won’t actually take the throne until I… well, until I fully die.” He suddenly looks anxious. “And I need to talk to you about that. About how you fit in now.”
“I… don’t understand.” Jason’s brow furrows.
“I know.” Danny says sadly. And man, he just looks so small and sad on that chair, Jason is forcing himself not to clamber from the fireplace and scoop him up. “You aren’t a regular ghost, Jason. Your form… It’s special.”
Jason doesn’t know if he should feel flattered, so he’s glad the fire flickering around his body hides his blush. “That’s… nice.” He chimes in, a question in his voice.
Danny huffs frustratedly, and Jason can see just how much he’s struggling over word choice.
“Kings of the Realm have always had Knights.” He forges on determinately. “I am no different. I just always assumed I wouldn't find my Knight until after death when I took up the crown. But now there’s you.”
Jason sits up straighter, feeling like the next few words are going to be important, and he doesn’t want to miss any of them.
“I knew from the second I laid eyes on you after you went ghost. You are my Knight. The next Fright Knight. And Jason, I’m so, so sorry.” Danny’s voice cracks on his last sentence. “You know hardly anything about this world and now you’re being thrown headfirst into it. And you’ve been stuck with a title you know nothing about and new responsibilities you couldn’t have prepared for. You’ve got to be upset.”
Jason is taken aback by the word vomit pouring from Danny’s mouth and the tears, green in color, pooling in his eyes. “Danny, no, hold on.”
He gives in to his urges and climbs from the fireplace, shaking ash off his armor and cape. Danny chokes out something teary, but Jason’s already crossed the distance between them and is crouching in front of the seat. He doesn’t want to cross a line, so his hands twitch uselessly at his side.
It’s so reminiscent of Jason’s Lazarus purge, just switched around, that Jason's got this sense of deja vu again. “I’m not upset. Sure, it’s unexpected, and this is..” Jason exhales in a whoosh. “It's a lot .” He laughs softly despite himself. “But I'm not going anywhere. I’ve still got you, haven't I?”
“You don’t get it!” Danny bursts out, startling Jason back a bit. “You don’t get it . You can’t go anywhere. You are stuck. with. Me.”
When he finally looks up from where he’s buried his head into the couch, Jason sees the tears are flowing now and his fangs are bared. He looks well and truly angry, but Jason somehow still doesn’t feel threatened.
“For the rest of your life, and for the rest of your after -life you will be tethered to me. You’ll have to put yourself at risk for me. You will get hurt because of me.” Danny’s up in Jason’s face now, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You’ve just barely escaped the torment of Lazarus, and now I’ve put you under control again!”
It is a bit of a scary thought, being controlled again, trapped again. Jason feels sick whenever he thinks about it, but at the same time… He feels like he knows Danny. He feels like Danny would never make him do something if he really didn’t want to. King and Knight or not. He's always figured things out. Always.
The grief that leaks into Danny’s voice is what makes Jason realize that this isn’t really anger at Jason. Danny’s angry at himself. He’s angry at himself for something neither of them had control over.
“Did you pick me? Did you specifically select me for your Knight?” Jason turns the tables.
“No!” Danny blurts incredulously.
“Then I would've been your Knight no matter what?” Jason sits back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I- I mean, yeah, but-”
“Then what’s wrong? This was going to happen no matter what and Danny-” He grabs Danny’s hands and, remembering the last time they were this close, he tugs Danny’s hands to his own chest, looking up into Danny’s eyes. “Danny, listen to me closely. You’ve done so much for me. I... with the Lazarus Pits… You-”
Normally so eloquent, Jason stumbles, face heating. “You are nothing like that sickness, okay? I'm actually offended on your behalf that you think you share any resemblance. You have been nothing but kind, and good, and- and sweet and-” God, why is Jason getting emotional?? “And I care about you. A lot. So even if I’m stuck with you for the rest of forever, I don’t care. Even if I serve you till the end of time, it’d be a drop in the bucket compared to what you did for me. So- so just-”
Danny surges forward and presses his lips to Jason’s. Chaste, but firm.
Jason, stunned, doesn’t react for a moment too long, and feels Danny panic and begin to pull away. In a split second, Jason moves, cupping a hand around the back of Danny’s head and bringing him back.
Their teeth clink painfully in Jason’s desperation and one of Danny’s sharp teeth catches on Jason's lip, splitting it deep.
Jason has to jerk back to spit up blood and Danny is apologizing profusely and it's all so chaotic that Jason can’t help but choke out a laugh, trying to paw the blood off his tongue.
“Noooo…” Danny groans. “No laughing!” He barks, brow furrowed. The image is ruined by his wide smile and the smear of Jason’s blood on his lip. Jason laughs harder until some blood gets into his mouth and he coughs instead.
Danny laughs then, high cackling laughter backed by the sound of ice shattering and something like the playful crunch of snow under running feet as Jason’s face scrunches up at the metallic taste on his tongue. The fire behind them jumps as Jason looks up at Danny.
“Oh, you’re laughing?” Jason says, wiping his face with the back of his hand, standing up to his full height and grinning down at Danny.
Danny, seeing the mischievous intent written plainly on Jason’s face, waves his hands frantically and back-tracks, his own smile growing. “No! Noooo, totally not!”
Jason wiggles his fingers at Danny. "We'll see who's laughing once I get my hands on you." Jason reaches for him, teeth bared playfully, and Danny flails and flops over the back of the couch, squealing and struggling to get away from Jason's tickling grip.
It turns into a bit of a game of chase through the stacks, Danny playing along and not flying out of range. They laugh and run until they're properly worn out.
It ends with Danny cuddled up to Jason, laying on his chest while Jason runs his hands through Danny’s ghostly, gravity defying locks. He’s hit with a sudden wave of nerves.
It’s not like he hasn’t thought about a relationship with Danny, but there’s so many questions now, and, if Jason’s being honest, he’s incredibly new to this type of closeness. He’s got to ask. He needs to be sure that this is real for both of them.
He shakes Danny’s shoulder gently, getting his attention. Danny looks up and blinks slowly like a pleased cat. “Hmm?”
Jason steels himself. He just needs to be clear.
“Is this... okay? Like, us being together? Because I want this, believe me, but I’m new to dating and this isn’t, can’t be casual.”
Danny sits up a bit, catching and holding Jason's gaze. Jason tries not to let Danny’s gorgeous eyes distract him. Come on, Jason, get it together.
“If- if you’re serious, and you want a relationship with me, then we’re in it. For better or worse, I need you to be serious. I- I can’t- I don’t want to lose you as a friend and now that we’re kinda tied together for forever, so if this makes things weird or awkward I guess I just-” Danny stops him mid ramble with a soft kiss to the forehead. He pulls back to stare deep into Jason’s eyes, and wow, Jason could look at him forever and never get tired.
Danny's face is honest and open. “I’m serious. I want this too, really, Jason.” A kiss pressed against his cheek.
“And I promise to talk to you about everything, and I'll answer all your questions. I still have so much to tell you about this whole thing.” A kiss at the corner of his mouth.
“Already, you’ve become such an integral piece of my life. I want to figure it all out together. I want nothing more than to be your boyfriend.” Jason doesn't wait for Danny to move back in, he kisses Danny square on the mouth himself.
"Thank god." He mumbles against Danny's lips, relief in every syllable.
"What, were you worried I wouldn't want you? You're stuck with me now, Firecracker. Package deal, me and you."
Jason chuckles and kisses Danny again, like he can't get enough. "Good."
Notes:
You know Jason had a moment of: “Wait… King? And I’m his Knight?? Does… Does that mean no boyfriend cuz Royal Duty???" Sad puppy dog face.
Next chapter preview:
Jason: “I’m having the oddest feelings… I need to kill all of Danny’s enemies, cook food to provide for him, and impress him, like as soon as possible??? What???”
Jason’s new ghostly instincts: “Courting mode idiot. muahahahah!”Hope you liked it!! Thanks again for all y'all's sweet words!! Hope this lived up to things. I've got some good plans for the next chapter. Hopefully it turns out.
Chapter 6: Okay, really... huh???
Summary:
A ceremony, Tim and the bats being crazy, and yet ANOTHER confrontation.
Notes:
Howdy! Sorry for lapse in posting. I got some comments that really discouraged me for a while, and i just couldn't pick this story up again. I powered through though!
I will say, not trying to be mean, but if you've got a negative comment about a bunch of small missteps i made according to you and what you want to happen, please just go write your own fic.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason is antsy. Of course he is!
He’s just been through a massive change and the biggest life revelation ever in the span of a few days. Oh, and he nearly attacked and then subsequently ran from like half the bats in Gotham, disappearing without a trace. He knows that’s got to be driving them absolutely wild . The clock is surely ticking on a plan to remedy that whole situation. But…
But Jason’s a bit busy, okay? He’s got priorities!! Priorities that maybe involve showing off to Danny a bit. Sure, he’d proved over and over he was an incredible chef in the past, what with their shared dinners, but he had access to possibly the craziest kitchen he’s ever seen and like hell was he not taking advantage of it.
After a day in Danny’s keep, the mind spinning and nose bleeding-ness of the house had dulled. Sure, he had to be careful not to eye anything too closely lest he be trapped in a nightmare sequence, but he managed.
Danny seems just as pleased as ever with the meals Jason cooked up for him. The King had been busy the second he and Jason woke up from their nap in the library. He was working on something, conversing with these strange eyeball creatures in long, opulent cloaks, and Jason had nothing else to do. He hated feeling useless, sitting in the background while important business went down, so he tried to make himself useful.
...
It was torture.
Jason glances aimlessly at the clock to his right, squinting for a second until the glass stopped melting and churning and he could read the time. Before he can properly decipher the numerals there, ink sliding around a bit, Danny bursts into the kitchen, grinning like a madman.
“It’s done!!” He crows, sweeping into the room, the joyous sounds of sleds on snow and ice freezing up emanating from him.
Jason turns the heat off the stove, the pan still sizzling, and sets it aside. He cocks a curious brow at Danny as Danny makes his way forward. “What’s done?” He asks simply as Danny wraps him up in his arms, twirling him towards the center of the kitchen.
“Everything’s in place!! We need to get you ready!!” He says, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Okay, and what is everything ?” Jason asks, voice patient. He’s smiling though, as Danny’s grin is just infectious.
“The Knighting ceremony!!” Danny says, looking up at Jason, eyes shining. “Turns out we can solidify you into the position early like they did for me! You’d get a fraction of your full power as, like, a boost, some knowledge probably, and, oh i don’t know! I’ve never seen a Knight be Knighted!” Jason chuckles at Danny’s enthusiasm, even as anxiety curls into his gut.
He rests his hands on Danny’s shoulders, taking some comfort in the way Danny’s smile goes soft. “Calm down. When is this happening?” Jason asks, getting straight down to it.
Danny turns and glances at the clock which, traitorously, solidifies for him. Jason makes sure to glare at it for being mean to him earlier. Danny makes a hum. “About an hour.”
“An hour?!?”
“Yup!! Time to go!!”
Jason is tugged from the kitchen, sputtering. The food sits in the pan on the stove, forgotten.
---
The armor feels… heavier, somehow, with every step closer to the room the ceremony is to be in.
Danny had assured him this whole process will be smooth. “You’re already my Knight; this is just a formality!” He had chirped, hands combing through Jason’s hair, carefully settling Jason helmet on over top. Jason had shakily grinned as the mask was lowered over his face, and Danny had responded with more snow crunching and a comforting sound of snowfall.
Jason stepped up to the doors, waiting for something to happen. Danny had split from his side a bit ago, stating he was needed in the room first before Jason could arrive. He tried not to fidget in place, though no one was near, as it was not becoming of a future Knight. Jason still didn’t quite understand what his role would require of him, or the importance of the sword resting against his back, but he tried to wave away the fear that came with going in blind to a situation. Danny would have his back.
He felt more than heard his presence being called into the room, and he set his face in a determined grimace, stalking forward. He pushed the doors open and more or less marched into the room, stopping in the center before a pedestal. No idea why, only that it felt right, and Jason had long given into trusting whatever ghostly instincts guided him now.
He was glad for his helmet, because then no one could track how his eyes scanned the room, taking the area in. He was set in almost an arena, with him on the ground and stands rising up around the sides of the circular room. The stands were full of rows and rows of those eyeball figures in their cloaks, all focused down on him.
It would be unnerving, but Danny was sitting front and center in the room, his… throne… elevated just above all of the rows the eyeball creatures stood in. Danny looked relaxed, and so, Jason relaxed slightly.
He was dressed in this long flowing cape, lined in fur, with shifting patterns like a galaxy. It was mesmerizing, and Jason had to consciously look away. Danny’s outfit was regal for sure, and the idea was only solidified by the crown floating over his head, flames frozen in place. Danny tilts his head a bit, and the crown bobs over with him. Jason has to stop admiring Danny’s attire because he stands, throwing his arms out to either side. He gives Jason a cheeky grin and wink before speaking.
“Welcome, all, to the ceremonial Knighting of Jason Todd!” His voice carries across the room, loud and commanding despite the note of teasing there. The room erupts into cheers and Jason's eyes refocus on the crowd, realizing there are dozens of semi-translucent ghosts interspersed into the crowd. He blinks, they waver, then solidify in his vision. A proper audience.
Jason might have been freaked out about his real name being revealed, but he supposes secret identities don't matter so much in this realm. He is Jason alive, and he will be Jason dead.
Danny's voice rings out again, drawing Jason's eyes back. “On this day, my Knight will come into a fraction of his power and lay his official claim to Soul Shredder, the weapon of nightmares!” Jason blinks, trying not to let his lips twitch up into a smile at the utterly goofy name and title. This must be the sword resting heavy at his back.
He stands taller, rolling his shoulders back and widening his stance. Danny sits, far too gracefully, and props up an elbow on the arm of his chair, leaning casually into it. “Draw the Sword, Knight. Draw Soul Shredder and step to the pillar before you.” Danny's voice took such a regal tone. …It was kind of attractive.
Jason does as he's told. He reaches under his cape and pulls the sword from its sheath, breathing a sigh of relief when it doesn't catch on anything. He clutches it with both hands, hefting it in front of him. He hesitates for an awkward moment, not quite understanding what needs to be done. Finally, as if of their own accord, his armored hands tighten around the sword, and fire roars down the length of the blade.
It licks over the metal, turning a strange sort of vibrant red where it touches the blade material. He raises his hands over his head, following this strange new urge, and levels the sword at the center of the pedestal. A shudder runs through him, head to toe, and it occurs to him the whole arena is silent, like even the air is holding its breath. Another full body tremble, and he plunges the sword down, burying it in the stone almost completely.
He's reminded of the warehouse, of the way the blade melted and bubbled the concrete absolutely molten. It doesn't quite do that here. Cracks spread through the pillar, branching slowly at first but speeding up until the pillar is spiderwebbed over with breaks.
The blade in his hands seems to heat under his touch. Jason’s eyes go wide with surprise at the fact he can feel the heat become overwhelming in a way it hasn't since before he transformed. The sword, Soul Shredder, rattles in his hands, and he tightens his grip, fighting it.
From the cracks in the pillar, a glow begins to form, red to orange, orange to yellow, yellow to startling white . He grunts, grits his teeth, and plants his feet, pressing the sword further into the stone. It pushes back, but Jason won't let it win. He will be, no, he IS The Fright Knight.
With that thought, he gives the sword one last snarl and forces it through the pillar. There's a loud boom as the light becomes consuming, blinding , and he feels the pillar shatter to dust. He can't see for shit, and his ears ring with a high buzz, but he holds tight to the sword, even though it's stilled.
He gasps for air he doesn't really need, and blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision. The light around him fades to pin pricks like stars, then gathers around his armor, sinking into the plates. He nearly staggers but manages to hold steady as a feeling of overwhelming comfort and awe floods him, something like pride sitting heavy in his limbs and chest. He recognizes the emotions as partially his own… and partially…
He looks up and meets Danny’s eyes. His smile is soft, and his eyes are full of wonder. The feelings in his chest steady and root themselves there. His connection to Danny feels almost tangible now, with this emotional bond.
Sound comes back like he’s surfaced from a pool, and his ears are filled with the sound of cheers and celebration. He breaks his gaze from Danny and looks around the arena, stumbling slightly as he turns in a circle, tracing the rows and rows of joyous ghosts and relieved looking eyeballs in capes.
A grin breaks out over his face, despite his hood covering the expression. He rounds back to Danny, who is standing from his throne. Danny simply clears his throat and a hush falls over the crowd. His cape flows behind him, and stars and cosmos form fractals like snowflakes around his body, a clear manifestation of his mood.
“Soul Shredder has accepted my Knight! Let us rejoice in the coming of a new Fright Knight!” He calls, and the arena descends into cheer again.
Oh, yeah. Soul Shredder.
It’s maybe a little inconvenient, as he isn't used to trying to wield broadswords, but he'll have to manage. Jason looks down at the sword, preparing to sheath it again. He blinks. Then he blinks again, shaking his head slightly.
As if moved by his thought process, the sword looks as though it's beginning to morph. He loosens his hold on it as the hilt shifts in his hands. Within moments, the giant broadswords has become two sleek guns, the black metal of them shining.
“I… did not know that could happen.” Danny says from far closer than Jason expected. He startles slightly, looking up to find Danny standing in front of him, still in his pristine royal attire.
“Me either.” Jason laughs. “Then again, there's still a lot I don't really know.”
Danny nods, wincing slightly. “There's always more, huh? Come on, maybe I can answer some questions. Besides, the party's about to start. Might catch a breath before they need us again.”
Jason nods, and wills the guns to form into the broadsword, sheathing it at his back once more. “Do you think I can make them any weapon? Like, is that a possibility? Because that would be sick .” Danny chuckles and leads him from the arena.
As soon as they leave the arena, Jason tugs off his helmet, holding it against his side casually. Danny’s lips quirk into a small smile. “I genuinely don’t know. I'm not a Knight, and I don't really know the last one super well. He's out on vacation last I checked.” Danny says, bringing a hand up to his chin thoughtfully.
Jason nods. “I might have to track him down. I love the whole ‘sword becomes guns’ thing, but where the hell do I find bullets for it?” Danny really laughs at that.
“Ancients! Did I never explain what Soul Shredder does?” He says, voice incredulous. Jason shakes his head, confusedly. “You don't need to find bullets, I'm sure. Soul Shredder is… special .”
Danny looks almost lost in memory, so Jason lays a hand on his shoulder. His fingers sink into Danny's plush cape, no, really , and he draws them back, shaking off liquidy cosmos. He really needs to get used to all of Danny's oddities.
Danny looks at him, fond, and tries not to laugh at his expression. “Here, quick rundown!”
Jason sits patiently as Danny begins to explain the power attached to the weapon at his back. The ability to send people to a nightmare realm with just a touch… Jason is reminded of how quickly Danny had removed them from the warehouse, frantic to not let Jason swing the sword at Batman. Jason pauses. He doesn’t know how he feels, honestly. Bruce would’ve deserved it for what he did to Danny, what he tried to do, but… Jason sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He thinks he’s… thankful to Danny.
“Soooo… what do you think? Pretty cool, right?” Danny says, nudging his shoulder playfully. When Jason just nods distantly, Danny begins to frown. “Okay, not the reaction I expected… What’s on your mind?” Danny grabs hold of Jason’s hands, spinning them both so they’re no longer side by side, but face to face.
His eyes are gentle, and make Jason feel cared about. Danny always had that sort of air about him. Understanding. Ready to listen. Jason’s shoulders come down from where he’d begun to tense up.
“I- I was thinking about the warehouse. Batman, and all of them.” He says, words weighty in the air.
Danny winces slightly. “The… family stuff… It’s complicated, huh?”
Jason nods, thumb beginning to rub comforting circles on the back of Danny’s hands. “It is. You know some of it already, but there’s just so much there .” His voice has an edge to it he can’t put an emotion to. Danny smiles, head tilted endearingly.
“Well, we’ve got time. You can sit and tell me as much as you want t-” Danny’s smile drops, and he stumbles forward a step.
“Danny?” Jason blurts, alarmed as he gets an unexpected armful of Ghost King. Danny’s body begins to tremble, wracked with tremors.
“Ja- Jase-” He chokes out, the crown over his head flaring with light. Jason says Danny’s name again, more frantic now.
Another foreign feeling fills Jason’s chest, clearly one of Danny’s echoing through their connection. Not fear, but close. A mix of panic and strong unease. A blanket of night sky dappled with galaxies drips off of Danny’s cape, flowing down to pool beneath their feet.
“What’s happening? Danny?” Jason says, supporting Danny’s weight, holding him upright.
Danny’s eyes are bright when he looks up, hair beginning to do that antigravity thing. “I’m being summoned.” He gasps out, a trembling hand scrabbling up to clutch Jason’s forearm. “It’s- it’s too strong. Can’t fight it.” He grunts, fractals of ice like cracks in the fabric of the world spider webbing from behind him. Eyes, bright green and ice blue respectively blink open over Danny's face.
Jason frees a hand, pulling his helm back over his head, the hood shielding him from some of the light flaring brighter and brighter from Danny. “What- what do I do?!”
Danny’s form shifts, changing yet again. He looked like a king before, but now… Now, it was abundantly clear. He was more eldritch than Jason had seen him be. This had to be Danny’s true Ghost king form.
“Hold on!” Comes Danny’s distorted voice, layered in ice shattering and snow crunching like static.
The pool of starlight and inky black night beneath their feet seems to pull , warping the ground and air around them like a blackhole. Jason closes his eyes at the blurs of colors and shapes around them.
He feels squeezed, and he has a horrible passing thought about the theory of spaghettification. His stomach rolls.
The tether that connects him to Danny pulses with reassurance, and the tightness of the warp around them disappears with a startlingly quick pop.
---
Tim does not like Constantine. And, clearly, Constantine feels much the same. The older man is glaring at him from where he sits at the JL meeting table.
Tim laid out his plan very clearly though! Not his fault Constantine hates his job. Suck to be a magic user, I guess.
The gathered bats sit silently in their seats and JL members shuffle at the table. Tim has just finished his incredibly informative slideshow on why ghosts are totally real and how summoning one could provide them the necessary link to the other side to rescue a kidnapped and possessed ally. He’s got no idea why everyone’s looking at him like that.
"..."
“Any questions?” He asks after a long moment.
“Yeahhh…” Flash speaks up, leaning forward. “Ghosts? Really?”
Tim deadpans at him, though the Red Robin mask surely dulls the effect some. Green Lantern also sits up, and Tim fights the urge to sigh when he opens his mouth to speak.
“And rescuing Red Hood ? Didn’t he like, oh, I don't know, behead a bunch of people??”
Tim waves a flippant hand. “It’s in the past.” He remarks casually. “Not relevant to what’s happening now.”
Tim ignores the indignant sputtering from Lantern, turning to look at Constantine.
“Now, I've brought you here, Constantine, to oversee the summoning ritual.” Tim turns to dig through his back, producing a particularly ragged old book.
It is most certainly bound in human skin, and there’s an amount of blood coating a number of pages that would be concerning if Tim cared at all. Fortunately, Tim doesn’t care, and he flips through the pages easily until he reaches the one he needs.
Constantine is on his feet as Tim lays the book down on the table. “How the fuck did you get that thing??” He blurts, cigarette nearly falling from his mouth, eyes wide.
Again, Tim waves an unbothered hand. “Not a concern at the moment.”
“Like Hell it’s not a concern! The energy coming off that thing-” Constantine looks sick. Tim rolls his eyes, despite knowing no one sees it.
“Fine, I stole it from the Drake manor in Gotham. They’re artifact collectors. Any other unnecessary comments? No? Good.” Tim steamrolls over the man. “I’ve taken the liberty of gathering all the ritual components. I just need one of the watchtower rooms to set up.”
Constantine stalks forward like he’s going to snatch the book, but Nightwing nonchalantly steps forward, blocking him. “We are not doing this. This is not happening.” Constantine barks. “You’re messing with something you don’t understand!”
“You are lucky we are here at all. We have a number of available warehouses in Gotham to operate in. I believe this could have been a ‘ask forgiveness, not permission’ ordeal.” Robin spits, coming to their defense in a surprising show of team unity.
“Good use of the saying, baby bat.” Nightwing murmurs, trying to give Robin a fist bump. Robin does not return it.
“Get your little demons in line.” Constantine growls. Batman stands abruptly at this.
“If you are unwilling to help, we’ll do this on our own. It is of utmost importance that Red Hood be returned to us.” He says, surely startling some league members with his abundance of words.
Constantine grumbles, mutters curses beneath his breath, and after a long moment, he sighs. One hand comes up to rub at the bridge of his nose, and if Tim could feel bad for the mess of a man right now, he would. The headache they're causing has to be agony.
“Fine. Fine, dammit!” He taps some ash off his cigarette into the carpet before resettling it onto his lip. “But understand I'm the leading authority on this type of shit. If we need to back out, you are going to back out.”
Tim nods. “Of course.” He says, privately cataloging it as a lie. They’ll do whatever they need to, but Constantine’s experience will be more helpful than not.
He gathers the book up and his bag with the ritual components, waving the bats forward. Some JL members go to stand only for Constantine to glare at them.
“No. Only bats for this. I don’t need a fucking possessed Superman on top of everything.” Constantine heads into the hall grumbling about how the risk involved with just exposing the bats to potential possession was too great anyways.
Nightwing glances at Tim, eyebrow raised. Tim shrugs and follows after Constantine.
---
The ritual didn’t take very long to set up.
The runes in the book were easily transcribed onto the cold metal of an extra meeting room floor in a mixture of paint and blood from the batcaves medical stores. All steps are done in order with extreme precision. The candles are arranged, the offerings of some pretty expensive jewelry and whatnot are laid out, and all in all, it seems too easy.
Constantine looks almost… unnerved about how fast Tim, Robin, and Nightwing have it all set up. Batman just waits beside Constantine, observing.
“Right!” Nightwing stands, clapping his hands together, the gold dust and salt mixture used to encircle the runes puffing out like a cloud. He falls into a short coughing fit, so Tim continues for him.
“Right. Now we just need to do the chant. I’ve written it out on notecards for everyone, so you don’t need to waste time memorizing it.” He passes around the notecards, eyeing his own. He had his own memorized, but it didn't hurt to double check.
“Is- is it written out in letters and phonetically??” He hears someone, likely Nightwing, whisper.
“Tch. Red robin is… disconcertingly thorough.”
Tim pushes their background conversations away, clearing his throat. Batman grunts and steps forward.
Tim nods. “He’s right. Let’s get this moving.”
They gather in a loose semi circle and the chanting begins. There’s only a couple of lines, nothing too complex. Maybe halfway through, Constantine stops, making a choked noise.
Ah.
He read ahead.
“This- Red Robin what-” He stumbles. Tim and the others, of course, don’t stop chanting. Tim only needs Constantine present for his magical abilities. They had enough people to do the chant on their own. One line left.
Constantine makes a move to dart over, to grab Tim’s shoulder, but it’s too late.
The runes and lines painted onto the floor glow, turning from a muddy red to a sickly sort of green, then a blue. A cold, cold blue.
“What the hell have you done?!” Constantine cries, eyes wide as saucers as he eyes the activated ritual ground.
“What do you mean?” Tim replies evenly.
“This?” Constantine grips the slip of paper with the chant on it, nearly crumpling it in his grip. “This is not to summon what you said! This is a fucking GHOST KING RITUAL!!” He shrieks, voice cracking a bit.
“Oh, is it?” Tim says, voice deceptively casual.
Constantine tangles his hands in his hair, looking more stressed than they’d ever seen him. “We don’t know anything about this king!! He could be worse than- worse than Pariah fucking Dark! He only came into power in this lifetime!! You- YOU-!”
“Shhh. The circle will hold him. I modified the ritual. Calm down.”
“Calm down?! CALM DOWN?? YOU MODIFIED WHAT?!?”
Tim waves Constantine off, eyes locked on the way the circle on the ground pulses, seeming to sink into itself. The paint and blood and whatnot begins to melt inward, swirling into an impossible mix of color beginning to resemble outer space.
“Here he comes… Follow the plan.” Nightwing calls, brow furrowed with determination.
A hand claws from the newly formed pit, wrenching itself out of the void. The figure is… well, it’s indescribable, but never let it be said Tim doesn't try.
The temperature of the room drops dramatically.
It’s a vaguely humanoid form in a cape made of what has to be the swirling fabric of the universe, a crown hovering over its head that crackles with ice, and- so, so many eyes. Hundreds of eyes, dozens of arms partially see through like ice, a body shrouded in darkness…
Tim steels himself. He made this decision for a reason.
Trying to reason with this new king is their best option. I mean, where is the reasoning behind summoning some rando ghost? Go big or go home.
Constantine looks like he’s having an aneurysm.
The King reaches back down into the portal, or maybe the King had never pulled that arm out? Either way, he reaches in and pulls from the pool of cosmos… a heavily armored figure.
A figure in familiar, if slightly to the left armor.
The cold drop in room temperature rights itself, rising back to the earlier equilibrium. Jason Todd is set onto the ground gently, and he doesn’t stumble despite how heavy the armor looks.
Any plan Tim and the others had made is utterly thrown out the window.
The emotionless mask of the Knight tilts, scanning the room. There’s a silence unlike any silence Tim had ever had to sit through. The calm before the storm, or perhaps, the eye of the storm. It’s the quiet of the void of space.
Jason’s armor crackles with embers, smoke twisting from his mask in mesmerizing swirls, like gravity doesn’t really matter. The two parties are at a mutual, silent stare down.
Then, like a bubble popping, the air shifts.
The countless arms of the King draw into his form, eyes blinking closed and density shifting, pulling in until all that is left is…
Oh my god is that fucking guy from the warehouse . The ghost from the warehouse, identified by Tim’s research as Phantom, hero of Amity Park, Daniel Nightingale, and now the fucking Ghost King , smiles weakly and waves.
Oh what the fuck .
Notes:
Not pictured-
Tim: *looking over pictures of phantom, increasingly stressed out by what he’s finding about this weird small town.*
Tim: *three skeins of yarn down, one board of Phantom pictures next to his board of Daniel nightingale info.*
Tim: *looking back and forth*
Tim: ...
Tim: WAIT A SECONDalso not pictured-
Jason teasing Danny for sounding goofy in his speeches and Danny gettin all embarrassed and "Well! well it's just proper for a King!!" Jason does not let him live this down.also also-
man i just love the idea of Jason and Danny balancing each other out and not just emotionally but also in the way their presence physically interacts with the world, as in, temp changes and what not. AAAH!-lol. i hope y'all liked it! wrapping things up soon, so the next chapter will be looooong. stay safe out there!!-
Chapter 7: The... uh... End?
Summary:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
CLOCKING IN AT OVER 5000 WORDS! LET'S DO THIS!!
Notes:
PLEASE ENJOY. I'M SO GLAD TO HAVE THIS FINISHED.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- Previously -
---
The emotionless mask of the Knight tilts, scanning the room. There’s a silence unlike any silence Tim had ever had to sit through. The calm before the storm, or perhaps, the eye of the storm. It’s the quiet of the void of space.
Jason’s armor crackles with embers, smoke twisting from his mask in mesmerizing swirls, like gravity doesn’t really matter. The two parties are at a mutual, silent stare down.
Then, like a bubble popping, the air shifts.
The countless arms of the King draw into his form, eyes blinking closed and density shifting, pulling in until all that is left is…
Oh my god is that fucking guy from the warehouse . The ghost from the warehouse, identified by Tim’s research as Phantom, hero of Amity Park, Daniel Nightingale, and now the fucking Ghost King, smiles weakly and waves.
Oh what the fuck.
---
- Now -
Nightwing knows his jaw is dropped, but he can’t do anything about it. What the hell is going on?? He frantically looks towards Tim, who looks just as stunned. That offers no reassurance. Their plan had been so well thought out! Nightwing mourns.
-Batcave - maybe a day or three ago -
Tim is pacing again.
Dick normally leaves him to it, not one to judge thinking/coping mechanisms, but… he looks kind of ragged.
He’s in his corner of the cave, pacing a path into the stone. The other bats designated, consciously or unconsciously, that wall to Tim. Or maybe he just took it over? Either way, it was his. Nearly ten square feet of corkboard and papers scrawled with words in a script none of them had quite cracked, the Collection offered an insight into Tim’s mind rarely shown to anyone.
And thank God.
A real peek into the prodigy's mind would probably break the average person.
Still, family of detectives and all. Dick’s proud to say he thinks he’s figured out the yarn color coding system. Kinda. Maybe. Look, that’s not important right now. Tim looks worse off than he normally is.
Dick cautiously approaches, like one would with a feral, cornered animal. Tim gives no indication he’s noticed. He's muttering underneath his breath, and all the words blur together so much Dick can’t make any of the ramble out. Dick winces, hissing a breath out through his teeth. Ooh yeah, that's bad.
Dick slides a step closer. “Heyyyyyy, Timmy.” He says, voice deceptively cheerful as he sets a hand on Tim’s shoulder to halt the pacing.
Tim whirls on him, and for a second, Dick thinks he might lash out.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he looks up at Dick with wild, crazed eyes and a toothy grin. It is… unsettling, to say the least. “I cracked it.” He says, and his voice is rough from overuse. Dick tries to smile.
“That’s great, bud. Hey! How’s about you come with me and… and we’ll go… uhm. Somewhere else. That’s not here. Somewhere away from here.” Dick loops an arm over Tim’s shoulder, attempting to guide him towards the stairs.
Tim doesn’t budge.
Tim also doesn’t seem to be blinking.
...
The sheer amount of coffee cups littering the ground nearby might give Dick a clue as to why.
“Can’t leave. I cracked it .” He says, stepping back and away from Dick’s arms. Back to his boards. Dick watches him eye the lines and lines of string with a healthy dose of brotherly concern.
“Right. You cracked it. Good job!! What…” Dick takes a deep breath, still smiling as best as he can. “What did you crack?” Dick quickly taps the emergency button on his watch. Alfred, please hurry.
“I know how to find Jason.” Tim says, turning his head to peer at Dick over his shoulder.
Dick winces yet again. They’ve all been dealing with that whole… situation… differently. He thought he and Bruce were handling it worse, but clearly he’d been blinded by his emotions too much to notice how it affected Tim.
“Alright.” He lowers his voice, speaking softly. “Alright. You can tell me all about that after you take a nap, yeah? When's the last time you slept?”
Tim’s slightly unhinged smile drops at this. “You think I'm crazy.”
“I wouldn’t say that… maybe just… not completely in your right mind?” Tim huffs an exasperated breath, and Dick just knows he’s chosen his words wrong. “Ah- in the sense that- well-” He stutters, rubbing at the back of his neck. Tim just rolls his eyes.
He grabs Dick’s arm, tugging him forward, closer towards the Collection. “Look.” is all he says, pointing up to one of the boards. One covered in primarily red thread.
Dick thinks, not totally sure, but he thinks red is for really important stuff. Or maybe for manhunts. Or theft cases. Honestly, he’s not too sure. Regardless, Dick humors Tim and scans the board.
It’s covered with grainy pictures of a green tinged figure, newspaper articles from a town called Amity Park, and bunches of that indecipherable script Tim uses for the Collection. Dick nods and hums like he gets any of this at all. His head hurts just being in close proximity to the Collection.
“Soooo. What am I looking at?” He says after a long, awkward moment.
Tim again huffs and rolls his eyes. “Did you read any of it at all?”
“I tried! That code you use is hard to break!” Dick defends, crossing his arms over his chest.
Tim looks confused. “Code? That’s-” His face falls into a displeased deadpan. “Dick, that’s my handwriting.”
Dick blinks.
“ That’s your handwriting??” He whispers, sounding far more horrified that he intended to.
“Oh shut up. Just- Okay.” Tim takes a deep breath, before launching into an explanation.
It’s only half coherent, with lots of wide gesturing and starts and stops. He walks over and starts pointing to an entirely different board, explaining the connections between the two. Dick recognizes pictures of Daniel Nightingale on that one with some displeasure. He’d really hoped Tim would stay out of it. Dragging that poor man into this case just because he was a friend of Jason’s felt… wrong.
Tim sounds delirious, but Dick tries his best to follow the winding loops of the story. Tim barely pauses to breathe, and the pacing begins again.
“-so then, if it goes well, we summon a ghost and use that to get into the Otherside, right?? EXCEPT! The only ghosts capable of opening portals are incredibly strong ones. At least, according to this super old site I dug up. So, we can’t summon any old ghost, not that we’d even be able to- I mean- half the rituals I've found are for the Head Hunter or this Time God thing- honestly all the other names were super intimidating, so I left that alone but-”
Dick feels lost. He feels crazy. He definitely zoned out and missed something because what is Tim even on about?? He sees Alfred enter the cave from the corner of his eye and relaxes.
He frantically waves Alfred over, dropping the gesture the second Tim turns to look at him. Tim frowns, probably sensing somethings off, but continues on his rant.
“-think I know where to find the right book since finding a valid summoning ritual for the actual Ghost King online is a struggle , but they’re totally our best shot since Constantine said there’s a new one a bunch of meetings ago. You remember that, right? Right. Better to get on their good side or at least find out if they’re a tyrant like the last one. Win-win either way! And the supplies are easy, just-”
Dick blinks the morse code for SOS at Alfred, who picks up the pace ever so slightly. He’s at Dick’s side soon, poised and proper as ever. He raises one eyebrow, looking over Tim and the whole… ordeal… with his usual air of grandfatherly judgement.
“Did you bring the stuff?” Dick whispers lowly.
Alfred nods and passes him a mug of coffee. They’ve done this song and dance far too many times. It’s easy now. How Tim falls for it every time, they don’t know.
Dick makes the appropriate hums and nods, holding out the mug of coffee. Tim absentmindedly grabs it as he paces by, taking a sip near immediately before jumping into his rambling spiral again. Dick and Alfred just wait a good five minutes until the mug is drained.
Tim stumbles, blinking heavily, before turning a frustrated gaze on Dick, who smiles and shrugs. He quickly catches the mug as it slips from Tim's hands, passing it to Alfred, before moving to catch Tim himself.
“Sorry baby bird. Bedtime now.” He crows, much to Tim’s fading displeasure. The teen quickly falls into soft snores, and Dick relaxes that little bit more.
“I will take care of the mugs. Please return him to his bed.” Alfred says primly.
“Will do. Thank you.” Dick murmurs, scooping Tim into an easier carry. Alfred just nods and turns away.
Dick gets Tim to bed no problem and only holds silent worried vigil over him for an hour or two before he manages to pull away and get back to work.
...
Of course, when Tim appears at the dinner table the next afternoon, carting two cork boards clearly pried from the Collection and a distinctly rested expression, Dick realizes maybe all his talk the day previous wasn’t a sleepless, delirious, emotional breakdown after all.
-Present-
“You.” Comes the cold growl from Batman.
He takes a step forward, but Constantine’s aggressive head shaking stops him. Batman gives him his patented glare to which Constantine responds with grit teeth and another panicked gesture to get back, dammit !
Daniel looks back and forth between them before tugging at the collar of his hazmat suit. He looks far more anxious than he should for a being that was supposedly THE Ghost King.
Dick worries his lip between his teeth, trying to decide what needs to be said. All his usual peacekeeping and easy conversation skills seem to have fled at the worst time .
Again, Dick glances over to Tim, who now has his hands tangled into his hair, tugging at it and muttering.
Dick inches his way over, eyes flicking back and forth to make sure his subtle movements are not caught.
Then again, he can’t tell if Jason’s visor is tracking him or not. (Is that even Jason still??? God, Dick is almost scared to find out.) Jason, or whatever was piloting that suit of armor, piloting his body , hadn’t moved since he was set down beside Daniel.
Dick smooths whatever expression he was wearing off his face as Tim turns to see him. “Red Robin? What’s-”
“This- This has to be because I screwed up the circle. The modifications- The- No -” Oof.
Okay, so Tim won’t be any help here.
Bruce is still arguing with Constantine just through looks and minuscule gestures, Tim’s out, and Robin has… disappeared. That’s not good.
Daniel is still inside the circle, though he looks like he’s getting antsier by the second. Jason- or whatever- is still entirely too still.
Why does Dick always have to be the adult? He steps forward, closer to the circle than the rest of them. Of course, as he draws attention to himself, he feels the weight of eyes on him. Not just Daniel’s, but the other bats behind him. He tries for a relaxed smile.
Daniel tenses though, and Dick is reminded of their last encounter. Of the sound Daniel made when Dick’s escrima sticks made contact with his arm.
Suddenly there’s a sort of pit in his stomach that he really doesn’t like. Daniel doesn’t look evil. He doesn’t look like a monster that brainwashed Dick’s brother, forced him into a raging fire, and pulled him into a swirling green pit to a place they couldn’t follow. He looks… scared.
Dick nearly falters on his cautious approach, but then his eyes wander and find Jason again.
Jason, still, (unmoving, which is so wrong, it's so wrong), practically drowning in thick plates of armor dripping magma.
His resolve strengthens, and he stops just a few yards from the summoning circle. The circle continues to glow an unbothered green, pulsing with light like a galaxy.
“So. The Ghost King, is it?” He remarks. “I will say, when we called you up, we didn’t expect you to be the same person- er, thing? that stole our brother!” He quips, smile tight on his face. He recognizes he’s treating this quite a bit like a hostage situation, like Daniel is one of their rogues, and by distracting him, Dick can get a hand up. Reality threatens to overwhelm him.
This isn't a human he’s talking to. It’s some undead- or just dead maybe - thing that had his brother captive. Still, this isn’t exactly something Bruce trained them for, so he just has to use what he’s got. God, why wasn't there a protocol for this?? Bruce anticipated everything expect for ghosts being very real and, apparently, very dangerous.
Daniel bristles, literally , his hair floating up like it was unaffected by gravity. There’s a low hiss from Jason, and the flames visible between his armor plates seem to get brighter. It’s something though, some sign of movement from him. Dick doesn’t know if that’s good or bad.
“I am a person. I am not a thing.” Daniel speaks finally, voice echoed and layered.
A chill runs down Dick’s spine, but he hides it easily.
Constantine comes up behind him, Dick can tell from the smell of cigarettes and panic, and he doesn’t startle as the magician whispers close to his ear. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, Nightwing, but that thing -” he spits the word as he gestures at Jason, “That is not your brother. Not- not anymore. That’s the fucking Knight . The King’s right hand.” There’s a barely there tremble in Constantine’s voice, just under the anger and franticness.
Dick’s heart drops further.
“Okay. Noted.” He whispers back, forcing his voice to remain level.
He pushes the feelings beginning to bubble up in his chest into a tiny little box, which he promptly tosses off a mental cliff. Surely it’s not as hopeless as Constantine just painted it. He focuses his gaze back on Daniel, who appears to squirm slightly under Dick’s white-cold mask.
“Alright!” He lifts his voice so that it carries across the distance once more. “Now, about the stolen brother? Let’s talk about him.” Dick gestures at the armored form.
Daniel shifts his body slightly, halfway hiding Jason from view. It’s a protective move, and it confuses the criminal profiler in Dick. The number of things that don’t add up freak Dick out, but he’s so far into panic that he’s reached the fuzzy numb state that lies beyond terror. He's always been good about that.
“I didn’t steal him!” Daniel protests avidly, looking legitimately startled at the accusation.
“Good! Then give him back.” Dick pushes.
“I- I can’t do that.” Daniel shifts on his feet. Dick files that reaction away too.
“Okay then you kidnapped him.”
“I didn’t kidnap him! You just don’t understand!” Daniel barks, an eye or three opening up on the visible skin of his arms and neck.
“Okay then explain !” Dick snaps right back. Whoops. There are those emotions. Bad. Put those away.
Tim staggers to Dick’s side. “I- I don’t know what you’re trying, but it seems dangerous.” He murmurs. The tone of his voice is warning, but the way he grips his bo staff shows how ready he is to support Dick. Dick tilts his head to acknowledge both points before he gestures at Daniel in a ‘go on…’ motion.
Daniel takes a deep breath, does he even need that??? , and begins to talk.
Or, he tries.
Jason, the Knight, steps forward finally.
It’s so sudden it takes nearly all of them aback, even Daniel. Another thing Dick numbly files away.
The Knight pulls from beneath his cape the same smoldering sword from their last time seeing each other. The air feels different though. Settled. None of that chaotic, out of control burning from before.
Constantine takes a sharp breath beside Dick, and when Dick peers at him from the corner of his eyes, he looks more on edge than Dick had ever seen the man.
The Knight brings the sword to rest in front of him, both hands resting on the pommel, the tip of the blade kissing the metal of the floor.
“You guys never learn your lessons, do you?” His voice is so suddenly, startlingly Jason . Dick didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this.
“Get the Bat to drop his weapon and the littlest bird to stop creeping over and I'll explain.” The Knight growls.
Dick finds himself torn between searching the room for Damien and walking over to Bruce to make him drop his batarangs, which he was surely holding.
The tension in the air seems to stretch the seconds. Dick clenches his jaw so tight he's worried for his teeth.
Finally, a shadow detaches from the wall just behind the circle and crosses to stand in line with Constantine, Dick, and Tim. Damien. He’s clearly displeased, arms crossed over his chest, but at least he understood the importance of listening.
Soon after, the sound of metal clattering on metal rings out as a couple batarangs are dropped to the floor. Dick breathes out in relief. They all know that’s not all of Bruce’s weapons, but the Knight seems to take that as enough.
The air is thick as the Knight begins to speak.
---
Jason is frozen.
The warp of the portal made him sick. For a long moment, far too long, he thought he had been lost. He couldn’t feel the chill of Danny, couldn’t locate the sound of his core through the scream of the portal. It was petrifying .
Then he was encompassed in the same chill as when Danny first grabbed a hold of him to bring him into the warp, and he relaxed. Being bodily wrenched from the void by a hand about as big as he was was startling, but far from the oddest thing to happen to Jason in the past days. He’s set rather gently on the ground, which, after the disorientation passes, appears to be made of metal.
His eyes slowly focus, and he reorients himself in this new space.
A familiar space…
Oh hell . They’re on the watchtower.
They’re face to face with half the bats and fucking Constantine . Jason grits his teeth, eyes narrowing on the magician.
For some reason, during their very brief interactions, Jason felt the man was wrong . Was it appropriate to say his vibe was off?
It felt juvenile to articulate but was probably the best description Jason had at hand. He did not like the slimy feel of the air around the magician.
That was clearly the least of their worries now, though. The man looked more nervous than anyone else.
Jason’s eyes flick away from whatever the Bat and Constantine were communicating, instead taking note of the demon brat. Damien is skirting the far wall, melting into the shadows just as easily as Bruce does, and clearly taking the long, slow route to get closer. There’s a flash of a katana and Jason wants to sigh.
He dismisses that and focuses on Dick and Tim. Tim looks like the weight of the world has just landed on him, and Dick just looks… he looks tired. Worn, even. Every so often, Jason catches the slight tilt of his head that signifies his gaze turning on Jason’s impassive mask. The solid white film in his mask may hide his eyes, but Jason’s trained well enough to notice the micromovements. He remains still though.
Just as Jason thinks it, Dick’s straightening up and plastering an easygoing expression on. He strides forward like there’s not a care in the world.
Jason feels frozen still. Danny’s saying something, bristling like a cat, blocking him from view.
The room rings with a distressed sound, like the ‘thwump’ of snow caving just before it rolls over into an avalanche. It’s so loud Jason shifts, feels his own core pulse and angry sort of sound. Clearly no one else hears, or else they wouldn’t still be talking.
Jason needs to tune back in. He needs to focus and move .
Dick has a near snarl on his face, and his words register as hostile. “- Then explain! ” He barks.
Danny shifts, breathes in deeply like he’s trying to calm down. The distressed sound emanating from him doesn't stop though. If anything, it ramps up.
Jason snaps out of whatever trance he was left in from the portal and the suddenness of seeing the bats as the sound of snow tumbling over into a roar begins.
He strides forward with solid, purposeful bootsteps, drawing the blade at his back. Settling it in front of him, he steels himself much as he had before his Knighting ceremony.
His awareness of the room stretches, and it’s like he can see and hear everything. He mentally clocks this as a very-new-very-startling occurrence, and probably some kind of Knight stuff to bring up to Danny, before pushing it aside.
Damien still slowly makes his way closer in the depths of the shadows, trying to get behind them. Bruce has three batarangs spread in his hands like playing cards, the metal ready to sing through the air at any wrong twitch. Tim is a Dick’s side, a silent, defensive support to Dick’s steady stance. Dick’s true feelings and thoughts are only given away by the tick in his brow. Constantine is hardly breathing it seems, and Jason is almost surprised he’s still standing. He looks ready to pass out.
The new wealth of information on the room and its inhabitants is overwhelming, but Jason just sighs.
“Y’all never learn your lesson, do you?” He says, low Gotham drawl coloring his words.
Danny has relaxed ever so slightly at his side, the sound of his core reduces to powder snow crunching beneath skis. Surprisingly, Dick also relaxes where he stands, miniscule as it is, like a weight has been lifted.
Jason feels the tension in the air and, as much as he’d like to avoid it all, knows an explanation is needed to keep the peace.
“Get the Bat to drop his weapon and the littlest bird to stop creeping over and I'll explain.” He growls lowly.
Damien jolts from where he stands in the corner, just a few yards from their circle, swords drawn. He grumbles something Jason’s sure only he hears, tucking the swords away after a moment and pushing off the wall to join the group in front of Danny and Jason.
Bruce looks conflicted, but it takes just a moment for him to drop his handful of batarangs onto the ground. Jason takes it as the miniscule win it is.
“Good. You can listen.” There’s a snarky note to his words, but he thinks he’s in the right with this one. He leaves both hands on the sword pommel.
How best to go about this? He’s always had a flare for the dramatics, but he gets the sense there are a lot of misunderstandings going on. Best clear up questions first.
He turns his head to Danny. “What is the issue?”
Danny looks meek suddenly. “They- uh- they think i kidnapped you?” comes his voice, wavering ever so slightly. Maybe a held back laugh, maybe that earlier panic.
Jason blinks, despite knowing it can’t be seen. He turns back to the gathered bats and magician.
“You thought I was kidnapped??” He blurts, voice chock full of disbelief. It seems to catch them all off guard. “Me? Kidnapped? By him???” He says, gesturing at Danny.
Danny puffs up. “Hey! I could kidnap you if I wanted!!” He protests.
Jason drags a metal gloved hand down his helm in a mimicry of a face palm. “No. No, I don't think you could.” He groans.
“Well what were we supposed to believe??” comes Tim's exasperated voice. “One second you’re with a green glowing man, the next, you’re throwing yourself into a bonfire! Then, you come out different and get whisked away! What would you conclude?!” He sounds haggard.
Jason pauses, then winces. “Okay, yeah, I can see how that looks.” he trails off. “But you’ve got it wrong. Like, completely embarrassingly wrong. I’m here of my own free will.” He tries to explain.
“Is he making you say that?” Bruce finally speaks up in a low growl.
The sound of powder under skis escalates to the sound of cracking ice over a lake. “No! I’m not making him do anything!” Danny bristles, standing taller.
“Then let him go!” This is possibly the worst time for Bruce to show he cares about Jason. The worst time.
“I’m not going anywhere!” Jason snarls, whirling about. The magma between his armor plates flares brightly, white hot.
“Your issue is with me . Not him. Leave Danny out of this.” He spits. “You want an explanation, I’ll explain .” He’d always been protective, but right now, the urge to keep Danny away from this whole mess is overwhelming .
He picks up his sword and paces forward but is stopped by the edge of the circle. It glows ominously, and he doesn’t risk going further. He doesn't want to push his luck with magic. He's got enough problems right now.
He makes sure to turn his visor to look directly at Bruce.
“I was dead.” He says finally, voice low. Bruce twitches back, and Jason knows if Bruce weren't channeling Batman so hard right now, he would've full on flinched from the abruptness of the statement.
“Now I don’t know if you know this, but being dead leaves some lasting effects.” He gestures at his full body. “This is part of that. I didn’t come back all the way. I’m still half dead.”
There’s a whispered, “oh, what the fuck .” from somewhere in the room that threatens to make Jason crack a smile. He shakes his head and continues. This is serious.
“There’s a lot of ghost shit I can't explain, and you wouldn’t understand, but Danny saved me. He- he got rid of the Lazarus effects and helped me figure out, well, honestly everything .” He gives an incredulous laugh, still amazed at everything that happened. "I was always half dead. Even when I believed myself to be alive. The pits did more than make me sick. They blocked this half of myself off, choked it out." He clenched a hand into a fist.
This time, he’s sure it’s Constantine that murmurs a curse.
"But Danny saw the problem. He knew more than I did and it's over now. I look different. I am changed. But this-" Again, he gestures to himself. To the armor. "This is what I should've been from the start. And it's not like I can undo any of it, so you guys need to suck it up and get over yourselves." He says with a note of exasperation and finality.
“ So, to conclude, no, I'm not in danger. No, Danny didn’t kidnap me. And, since I'm sure you’re thinking it, no , I am not brainwashed .” He says finally, ticking each point off on his fingers. “Anything I missed?”
No responses, and Jason nods.
“Good. Then you guys can let us out now, right?” Something about the circle feels wrong, and it grates at Jason’s skin. It must make Danny uncomfortable too, but he doesn't say anything. The pinch of his brow is enough for Jason to know he’s affected.
“Now hold on a minute!” Constantine says, eyes wild. “Like hell we’re just going to let you out!”
He pales and turns to Danny. “No, uh, no offense, your… majesty? No offense meant.”
Danny just arches an eyebrow, part condescending, part questioning.
Dick crosses his arms and stares Jason down. “He's got a point. How do we know for certain you aren’t brainwashed?” He says, cop voice in full action.
Jason groans exasperatedly, wanting to face palm. Then, “When I was younger you made us watch ‘Marley and Me’ and at the end you cried so hard you threw up on the nice carpet and we had t-”
“Okay okay!!! We believe you!” Dick shouts, voice tinged with franticness. He didn't even let Jason get halfway into the story! Still, Jason can't help but grin beneath his helm.
Dick squirms under all the sets of eyes on him, and he rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s him. Tim, get them out.”
Tim shrugs. "Alright. I'm convinced."
Constantine sputters. His cigarette lies abandoned on the ground in his protests.
Danny relaxes. “See? All just a misunderstanding.” He sighs.
Tim steps forward, murmurs some words, and scuffs at the paint mix with his shoe until the glow dissipates.
A weight leaves both Danny and Jason, and they sigh. Jason shakes out his arms, ridding himself of the staticky feeling of the circle. He then sheathes his sword and steps out.
Danny follows, floating over the runes like the idea of touching them makes him sick. “If there are any other questions, I'm happy to answer. Uhm. So long as it isn’t, like, the answer to the universe or something crazy.” Danny gives a stilted laugh, eyes darting. Jason eyes Danny, who looks suspiciously like he knows something he doesn't want to say. Maybe he asks about that later.
“Good. I have got so many questions.” Tim chimes up, an odd book in his hands.
Is- is that human flesh?? Why does Tim have a book bound in actual human skin? Jason shakes his head, awed.
“Don’t overwhelm the guy.” Dick chirps, stepping up to Danny and Jason. “And I also have questions.”
Constantine's eyes are wide as saucers as the group passes by. Bruce shoots Constantine a look and then trails after Jason and the bats.
As they go to find a more comfortable place to rest and chat, Danny speaks up again. “Oh! I have a question too!”
“Fire away.” Dick says, already seeming to have warmed up to the halfa. Too easy... Jason knows his brother is going to have endless questions for him, and he's not looking forward to it.
Danny grins. “I just want to know how you knew I was the King. I mean, no sane person would just summon The King. You had to have known.” At the prolonged silence, Danny freezes, smile dropping.
He eyes each of the bats individually as they avoid eye contact and shuffle down the hall.
“You- you did know, right? Right? I mean, you had to have! Right?? No, don’t walk faster! Did you know??”
Jason drops his head into his hands.
---
The house is a mess of cardboard boxes.
Jason sighs in relief, throwing himself down into a kitchen chair in his apartment. His real, not safehouse apartment.
Danny carries in his last box, bumping the front door closed with his hip and setting the box down with a hiss of air. He stands and stretches his arms out before sighing.
“Wow. So much for helping your boyfriend. You’ve got the muscles here! Why am I doing all the work?” He huffs, mock upset.
Jason rolls his eyes playfully. “If you recall, I was the one that got most of it. And I carried up your bed frame! If you could just be happy with my setup, maybe this would’ve been different!” He teases.
Danny whirls on him, actually offended now. “Jason. Your bed was on the floor . No box spring. No frame. Nothing .” He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed. “Like hell am I living here and sleeping on a floor mattress.”
Jason averts his eyes with a cringe. “Yeah, okay." He admits weakly. "Got me there.”
“Heck yeah I did, now get over here and help me get these to the living room. I’m about to introduce you to the wonders of useless throw pillows and blackout curtains.”
Jason groans good-naturedly and gets up to help.
---
Danny could burst, he’s just so happy.
The future, as it pertains to the Ghost Zone and its King and Knight, isn't known yet, but Danny and Jason have plenty of time to figure it out.
…
After they navigate life as it is now.
I mean, Danny’s first two meetings with Jason’s family were disasters! And, apparently, he hasn't even met all of them yet! Don’t even get him started on how little of Danny’s friends and family Jason knows about! Jazz is going to have his ass when he breaks it to her he’s got a boyfriend…
for life…
and for afterlife.
Oh Ancients. That’s barely the beginning. Seriously, Danny-
Jason calls Danny’s name from across the living room, and he snaps from his thoughts to turn and look. He’s barely made eye contact before a pillow smacks him dead in the face.
Jason barks out a laugh while Danny fumbles to grab the offending pillow. “Oh that’s funny, is it?” He says, deadpan.
Jason’s laughing so hard he’s doubled over at the waist, but he manages a nod.
“I’ll show you funny, Firecracker.” Danny says, grin uncannily wide.
Jason has the sense to pale as Danny rears back to hurl the pillow. The room devolves into all out war.
Yeah, Danny feels pretty good about this whole thing. They've got plenty of time.
Notes:
IM SO HAPPY THIS IS DONE!! V PROUD OF MYSELF.
if you have any major plot holes you can think of that bothered you, DROP BELOW. I think I'd like to do a follow up work that's more slice-of-life and casual. (added bonus if i can fill plot holes) but less heavily plot fueled and more focused of humor and fun. all the tough plot stuff has been done with this work, leaving me open for messing around. might be a second though, as I need a break!! My brain hurts from trying to find every "y'all" to correct to "you guys." I'm southern, and I'm trying my best TmT
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