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“So, wait, Nightwing is dating Huntress?” asks Cassie.
“I don’t know what they’re doing!” Tim replies. “That’s half the problem.”
“And do we like Huntress?” asks Cissie.
“Yes—no—it’s complicated,” Tim replies. He’s doing a lot of replying and he doesn’t entirely like it—more out of an instinctual avoidance of being on the interrogatee side of an interrogation than anything else—but he had been the one to ask for advice. Which, in hindsight, may have been a mistake, but it’s one he’s now committed to. “I do like her. But she struggles with following Batman’s rules. I mean, we all do, but she struggles with the no killing aspect of it. Specifically. Which is obviously a problem.”
“But has she, like, actually killed anyone?” Kon asks. He’s floating in the air, cross-legged, with one of Cassie’s pillows hugged to his chest. It’s kind of cute—especially with his oversized Superman t-shirt, because, thankfully, he does actually have clothes that aren’t made of either spandex or leather.
Not that Tim would ever say it’s cute out loud.
“No, not since we started working together properly.”
Kon shrugs. “Then I don’t see the problem?” Tim might be imagining it, but he almost sounds wistful? “Yeah, it’s majorly screwed that she’s killed but it also sounds like she’s changed. And being able to stand up to the bat seems like a point in her favour more than anything.” He pauses. “Plus, based on the picture you have of her, she’s hella hot. Like smoking hot. Like volcano about to erupt hot—”
Kon is interrupted by Cassie, acting on behalf of the team, throwing a pillow at him. It does smack him in the face—he still needs to practice his catches, one success doth not consistency maketh—but before it can fall to the ground his TTK grabs it and now he’s hugging two pillows and maybe that backfired slightly.
Tim just knew visual aids would be a mistake. This is on him for not being able to resist a corkboard. The damage has been done, but Tim still puts his evidence board face-down on principle. Huntress probably doesn’t even know he has the photo—her foot in the middle of kicking a bad guy’s face, her fist breaking the jaw of another. He doesn’t have much time for photography anymore, but sometimes he just itches to go out and capture Gotham. And Gotham includes its vigilantes. Especially now he can actually get up close, rather than settling for glimpses of shadows. The photo of Nightwing, meanwhile, is him shoving his face full of pizza, a hand reaching out to try, in vain, to block the camera lens.
Oracle, of course, is represented by her icon. He still hasn’t fully transitioned to thinking of her as Barbara.
“It’s not all about looks,” says Cassie. “Even if she is really hot.” She pauses. “Like, really hot.”
“Okay!” interrupts Tim. “That’s enough of that.” He did not need his friends calling his co-worker hot.
“Yeah, it really doesn’t matter,” agrees Cissie, and of course he can count on her to have his back. “Especially since Nightwing is way hotter than her.”
A part of Tim dies inside. Just shrivels up and expires, there and then.
“Okay, but Nightwing is hotter than, like, everyone,” points out Kon. That part of Tim is currently being cremated. “And cooler, and more badass. Or whatever.”
“Most documentaries on 21st century heroes talk about Nightwing’s attractiveness at least once,” says Bart offhandedly from the corner where he’s playing Polyp-mon. It’s one of his first contributions to the conversation. The part of Tim that died earlier is now having a funeral held in its honour. Suzie, at least, is still absorbed in the game. She’s spent the conversation peering over Bart’s shoulder, occasionally asking him to catch a specific polyp-mon. Though he doubts her additions would be worse than what is currently passing for advice.
“Guys, please,” Tim says, desperately trying to course-correct the conversation. God, it’s so much worse having them talk about how hot this co-worker is. “Stay focused on the problem.”
“Is that you like Oracle more?” asks Cissie.
Tim hesitates. Oracle is one of the most impressive people he knows, and getting to actually spend time with her—especially when it’s her teaching him about tech—is awesome, and she’s saved his life more times than he count or probably even knows about. She also hasn't killed anyone. It shouldn't even be a contest. But he’s only known her face-to-face for a short time, and he’s been fighting side-by-side with Huntress almost as long as he’s been acting properly as Robin.
“That’s not what’s important,” he deflects. “What’s important is what’s best for Nightwing. And also them. What’s best for all three of them. Especially since that’s also going to be best for Gotham. Workplace romances are dangerous enough without actual bullets and crossbow bolts being thrown around.”
“Right,” says Cissie. “Sure.”
“What if they all just dated each other?” asks Bart.
“You can do that?” asks Kon, at the same time as—their voices colliding—Tim answers, “I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t fix it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that would make it worse.”
“Also, do we count as a workplace?” continues Bart, as if he hadn’t heard their replies. There’s probably a fair chance that he actually hadn’t, and also that the two questions were intended to be delivered at the same time; Tim had seen him get absorbed in a polyp-mon battle the second the each other had finished leaving his mouth. “Because I’ve been told I should get a part-time job but if this counts then I could tell them I already have one. Though I guess I’d have to lie to people about what we do. Do you think I could tell them we’re a Big Belly Burger branch? Or maybe a Red Robin? Or would non-food retail be better?”
They all look at each other. Tim goes to answer Bart’s question, not that he knows what the answer is, but he’s spared by Bart’s full focus being returned to the game. He can tell by the way his tongue is poking out that, even if Tim yelled in his ear, he wouldn’t register it.
“I just don’t know what to do,” Tim says instead, returning to the actual topic of conversation. “It’s going to crash and burn if I don’t get involved. But if I get involved, that may only make it crash and burn faster.”
He waits for the others to say something.
The silence stretches.
“Well, good luck with that!” declares Cassie. “Now, who wants to watch Xena?”
Tim sighs, but let’s the hang-out move on. What’s happening with Nightwing, Huntress and Oracle is such a mess that there’s no way a bunch of teenagers are going to be able to untangle it, especially when most of them don’t have much experience in romance or life or both. Tim certainly doesn’t have a leg to stand on, with what’s happening with Steph. He’s sure Dick will figure it out. Eventually.
Kon floats down next to him as Cassie and Cissie go hunting for the VHS, with that grin on his face that Tim just knows means he’s come up with some terrible joke. “Look on the brightside! When the divorce happens, you’ll have not one, not two, but three Christmases. Not four, because I’m pretty sure Batman doesn’t celebrate thanks to his allergy to joy and fun and generally having a good time, but three is still pretty good.”
“Yay,” says Tim, voice as flat as he can make it.