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It was a long day. A very long day, to be specific. He was supposed to be home a few hours ago, but it had turned out that if more than two people were on sick leave, they were terribly understaffed. Dick had ended up having twice as much work as usual and arrived home five hours later. Who would have thought there would be traffic at this hour? Like seriously, he had spent more time in the car during his way back home today than he had during the whole week in total. If he had known it was gonna take so long, he would have seriously considered sleeping at the precinct tonight.
He parked as close to the entrance as possible (which was still almost two blocks away) and began his journey upstairs. As soon as he headed home, he put on his slippers, reheated some yesterday's leftovers, and sat cross-legged on the kitchen table, scrolling through all his e-mails, he didn't have time to check today. Apparently everybody started to remember about him only when he was busy. He put dishes in the sink and was just about to put on his suit to go on a patrol when the doorbell rang through his apartment.
Weird.
No one usually visited him at this time of the day, maybe except for old lady Stevenson, who lived next door and liked to complain about noise and smell and life and literally anything else. He sighed. He really wasn't in the mood for dealing with her. She was a genuine nightmare. And don't get him wrong, Dick adored elderly people, but at the mere thought of handling a conversation with this woman, shivers went down his spine. He still remembered this one time she'd knocked on his door, just to hit him with a wooden spoon, because he hadn't picked up a parcel that had been lying by his door since morning.
He took one last deep breath, getting his act together, and opened the door just to see...
"Damian?" That was a nice surprise. Actually at this point anyone who wouldn't like to beat him with a spoon would be a nice surprise. "What are you doing here? Is Bruce with you? Did he find out it was me who set the toaster on fire, because it was an accident and–" Dick burst out with all his questions at once, before he could even have a proper look at his brother.
He was standing there uptight, clenching his fists. His face was red, as if he'd just run a couple of kilometers just to get here. He was stubbornly staring at the floor, but even with that, Dick was able to see that his eyes were glassy with tears.
And then he realized he started it all wrong. He shut up immediately, pushed the door wider, and stepped aside.
"Come," he said.
Damian didn't even look at him. He waltzed through the door, muttering something that Dick barely recognized as 'I hate father,' and headed to the living room.
Dick closed the door and followed the kid. Well, something was clearly wrong. As impulsive as he could be, Damian wasn't the type to run away because of some minor inconvenience. And he definitely wasn't the type to purposely look for a company when he was angry, so it had to be something serious.
"Wait, how did you get here?" Dick asked when he looked at the clock. It was already after midnight, and he really hoped someone dropped Damian here.
"I am not a cripple, I am very capable of travelling by myself," he huffed and folded his arms, sitting on the couch. "I took a bus."
Dick couldn't help but wince at that. He was totally aware that even if someone had bothered Damian during his trip, he could have handled it himself. Shit, he should be worried about Damian not sending them into the hospital. But still. He was just a kid travelling alone in the middle of the night to a different city, it automatically made him worried.
"Please tell me you had left your coat behind the door before you knocked and hadn't just left without it." That's when he noticed Damian came here with nothing but a shirt on his back.
"'m not cold," he mumbled, but was already putting on Dick's Flash hoodie that was lying on the backrest.
Dick approached him, sitting on the other side of the sofa.
"Does B know you're here?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.
"No," he muttered, and his frown deepened.
Okay, so apparently it was Bruce's fault that his brother stormed into his flat, wearing nothing but his shirt in the middle of October. Well done, Bruce.
"Does anybody know you're here?"
"You know," Damian said, though his voice was now so quiet, Dick had to concentrate to recognize the words.
He smiled tentatively at him and put a hand on his shoulder. Right now he wouldn't get more out of him.
"Wait here for a second, okay? I'll be right back."
Damian didn't answer. He still was avoiding looking at Dick at any cost and was now fiddling with the edge of the hoodie.
Dick sighed quietly and left for the kitchen. He dialed Bruce's number and, in the meantime, put two mugs out of the cupboard and walked to the stove. Dick was considering hanging up and trying to call him later when, after the sixth signal, Bruce still didn't answer, but when the thought crossed his mind, Bruce picked up the phone.
"Dick?" His voice sounded absent, like he wasn't entirely aware of Dick's presence on the other side of the phone. "Sorry, I really can't talk right now. Damian–"
"Calm down, B. He's with me."
For a short moment there was a silence, and then Bruce's allayed voice followed.
"Thank God." Dick could almost feel, like Bruce's body relaxed and relief washed over him. "We had a fight, and I took it too far. I've been looking for him for almost two hours and couldn't find him anywhere. I was worried, he decided to run away and–"
"Bruce," Dick interrupted. It was funny how always silent and grumpy Batman couldn't shut up when he was concerned. "Settle down. He's safe. He's at my place, sitting on the couch and pouting."
"I know, I just..." he sighed. "I'll come and pick him up."
Dick peered at the boy through the kitchen door. He was staring at the floor, his jaw tightened and hood covering his head.
"You know. He can stay here," Dick offered. He knew Bruce meant well. He was worried and wanted to fix things as soon as possible, but he also knew that if Damian was in this state, his father would presumably make things worse. "I feel like he needs a break. I'll drop him off at home in the morning."
"I don't know, I really could–"
"B, I got this," he assured.
There was a moment of silence, like if Bruce was considering the best options.
"Just... make sure he's okay."
"I will. I promise."
After a minute Dick showed back up in the living room. He put one of the mugs in front of his brother and, holding the other one, sat next to him.
"Who were you talking to?"
"Bruce."
"Let me guess, he is already on his way to pick me up?" He tried to make it sound like he was angry, but Dick heard the apprehension in his voice.
"No. I told him, you can stay."
There was a nod, and his muscles relaxed a little.
"You wanna talk about what happened?"
He didn't answer, and Dick didn't push him. For a few minutes they were just sitting there, sipping cocoa, the ticking of the clock the only sound between them, before Damian broke the silence.
"I fucked up." Dick gazed at him inquisitively. Well, that was straightforward.
"I highly doubt it, but why do you think so?"
Damian bit his bottom lip, debating with himself.
"Three days ago, father had to skip the patrol," Damian started but kinda shrank in on himself, as if he was worried Dick was gonna scold him for whatever had happened. "He had some stupid meeting he could not avoid and forbade me to go alone, but I did it anyway and... let's just say it did not end up in the best way possible." Now Dick was really perturbed. He scanned his brother in search of any visible wounds or injuries and was met with a quiet 'tt' as a response. "It is just my wrist, no big deal." Now that Damian mentioned this, Dick noticed that he was holding his mug in his left hand. Right one shoved in the sleeve as far as possible. "But today we had training. I tried to block the attack with my arm, but it did not quite work out. Father found out about everything. He was angry." Damian made a pause. He took a shaky breath and tightened the hold on the cup. "He– he said that I am irresponsible and that he is disappointed in me and... and that he never should have let me become Robin in the first place."
Dick blinked a few times. A couple of seconds passed before the full meaning of these words sank in. He'd had a lot of fights with Bruce. Some of them really serious, but he'd never told him something like that. The more he couldn't imagine him saying that to a kid whose life was revolving around being Robin.
"He was just mad. He didn't mean that." He pulled Damian into a one-arm hug. He didn't fight it.
"Is that what he told you?" The tears started to form in Damian's eyes. He wiped them with his sleeve and leaned into Dick's touch. It was rare to see his brother like that, and he couldn't stand it.
"He didn't have to," Dick assured. As terrible in communication as Bruce was, Dick was certain of one thing, he would never purposely hurt any of them. "Look, I have known him for a long time, and I know he didn't mean it. He was just upset, and emotions took over."
"Don't emotions make us say things we truly believe but do not want to say out loud?"
"Well, the first thing you said, after storming in here, was that you hate Bruce. Do you really feel that way?"
There was another minute of silence followed by quiet 'tt,' so Dick took it as a no.
"You see, you and Bruce have a lot in common. That's why you can't communicate most of the time. He's just really worried he messed things up with you, that you still can't trust each other."
"What?" Damian shot his head upward, and it was the first time he looked at Dick tonight. Dick shifted a little to look him properly in the eyes.
"Well, he believed that you wouldn't go on a patrol if he forbade it, but despite it, you went." Damian tightened his hold on the cup and tried to break the eye contact with him but quickly resigned, making a softened and remorseful expression. "And yes, that one's on you, but it's not the reason he was angry." The boy was staring at him, bewildered. "You didn't tell him about it afterwards, and now he's sure you still don't trust him enough to tell him about being injured."
"It is... it is not that I do not trust him," he said firmly, but his voice became quieter at the end.
"I know," Dick ensured. "You just didn't want to disappoint him, did you?"
He shrugged and looked down at his hands. "Maybe."
"But you see, since the day you first appeared, B was doing everything for you to feel safe and feel that you can trust him. He thought you both were making progress. But after today I'm pretty sure, he's certain, that he failed you. He's worried that even if you got into some serious trouble or hurt yourself really badly, you wouldn't trust him enough to tell him about it."
They were both quiet for a minute or two, just sinking into each other's company. Damian was sitting there, glaring at the cocoa in his hands, while Dick was patting him on the shoulder.
"Screw you and your wise monologues," he huffed at last.
Dick laughed and pulled him closer.
"Yeah, I guess it got kinda serious." He reached for the remote. "Wanna watch a movie?"
Damian nodded and allowed himself to smile a little.
They were in the middle of their third SpongeBob episode when a quiet clatter echoed through the flat. It was followed by a much louder bang and some muffled mumbling. Dick frowned. That was suspicious. The last time he'd had a situation like that had been when he'd returned from patrol, the same time the neighbor's cat had decided to finish his night walk. He'd been so tired he hadn't even seen when the cat had slipped into his apartment, just to almost give Dick a heart attack when he'd smashed some bottles on the floor. But there's no way he missed the damn cat the second time, right?
Damian had to hear it too, because he looked away from the TV and was now staring puzzled at him.
"It's probably a draught. I must have forgotten to close the window. I've got this."
Damian did not look convinced, but he didn't dwell on the subject. He nodded slowly and went back to watching television.
Dick got up from the couch and walked towards the kitchen. He stiffened, ready to fight any danger that was awaiting him, when once again quiet muttering could be heard in front of him. He crept through the kitchen doorway, and the first thing that caught his eye was a slim, colorful burglar crawling through the window. Red Robin in his full suit was cursing under his breath. He didn't seem to even notice Dick, he was too busy struggling to release his foot, which got tangled in his own rope. Dick loosened up and smiled at the view. So family meeting it is. He crossed his arms and watched the whole show silently. It was almost sad to see him struggle like that.
When he finally managed to get inside, he closed the window and turned around, just to startle when he faced Dick.
"Why are you climbing through my window?"
"'Cause I didn't want to wake you up?" He tried and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.
"By smashing plates onto the floor?" Dick raised an eyebrow and looked at broken tableware, crusting under Tim's feet.
"Not my fault you've got so many things in here. Who keeps the plates on the windowsill anyway?"
"I do. Besides, how do you even manage to get uncaught during missions when you can't even climb a window properly?"
"I'm not at my best today, ok?" He murmured irritably.
They stood there for a moment, silence stretching between them, when Dick spotted that something was wrong. Tim seemed kinda uncomfortable, not entirely sure what to do with his hands. He was shifting from foot to foot, his gaze wandering everywhere but in Dick's direction.
"Do you want a cocoa?" He asked eventually and turned to the stove. Yeah, ok, it was his remedy for everything, so what? He could have a cupboard full of cocoa, if he wanted to. Alfred had a cupboard full of chamomile tea, and that's what he stuck to.
Tim seemed to relax a little.
"Coffee," he corrected him. He could swear this kid drank more coffee in one day than Dick did in a whole month.
By the time Dick put the kettle on and was looking for some clean mug, Tim disappeared in his bedroom. He showed up just at the moment when Dick was pouring water in the cup. He replaced his Red Robin suit with a pair of Dick's Christmas pajama pants and his old high school sweatshirt.
"Here." Dick handed him a mug.
Tim closed his eyes and wrapped his hands around the cup to warm them. "Thanks."
They walked into the living room, when abruptly Tim stopped just behind the couch.
"Aw, you didn't tell me, lil gremlin is here," he complained and made a face equally disgusted to the one you make when you find a raisin in a cheesecake and then proceeded to sit next to Damian, but taking the opposite end of the couch, just to make a point.
Damian looked at him and stuck his tongue out in response.
"Well, you didn't tell me you were going to be here either," reasoned Dick.
"Well, I wasn't planning it," he murmured.
Dick stood behind the couch and leaned his elbows on the backrest, staring softly at his brother.
"Did something happen?"
Tim didn't have a chance to answer.
"Drake had a bad day and came to his big bro to cheer him up," huffed Damian.
Tim sent him a deadly glare.
"As far as I'm concerned, you're doing the same thing, so shut up."
Damian looked like he was ready to throw hands at Tim. Dick didn't need any fights in here right now, so he put a hand on Damian's shoulder to keep him in one place and turned to face Tim.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Tim shrugged. He looked tired, more tired than usual.
"It was just a shitty day, I guess. Nothing particularly terrible happened, it was just... bad." He shrugged again and looked at his coffee. "Just wanted to hang out."
Before any of them could say anything more, there was a sound of the doorknob being pulled, and then a loud knocking on the door reverberated through the apartment. His brothers gave him questioning looks, but he waved them off and walked to open the door.
On the other side stood especially annoyed Jason.
"Why is your door locked?" He asked, eyeing the door.
"To keep uninvited guests outside."
Jason snorted and shoved him aside, walking further into the flat. "Really, and how's that working for you?"
Dick just rolled his eyes and followed him. He didn't have to ask what Jason was doing here. He saw it. His brother smelled like burning flesh, his hair was sticking in every possible direction, and Dick could swear it was a little burned at the ends. He had bags under his eyes and looked particularly miserable. It wasn't the first time he showed up at his door, looking like that. Actually, it was happening more and more often lately. But Jason would never admit it.
When he'd shown like this for the first time, Dick was in such a shock he hadn't thought things through. He'd asked too many questions, to the point Jason'd felt too uncomfortable and had stormed out of his apartment. Dick hadn't seen him till some team-up mission three months later.
But he'd learned his lesson, and when Jason'd shown up for the next time, he hadn't pushed him. He'd understood that his brother just needed company. Someone he could rely on and who wouldn't judge him. Back then they'd spent a quiet evening together (if you can call arguing over video games quiet), and Dick liked to believe that after this, Jason trusted him a little more, just enough to come here every time he needed.
"Oh, great!" He heard Jason's voice coming from the living room. "What are you two gremlins doing here?"
Dick didn't hear the rest of the conversation, he passed the sitting room and headed straight to the kitchen.
To be honest, it was nice to have all three of them in here, even if the circumstances weren't the most pleasant. He couldn't remember when was the last time they all spent some time together. And yes, of course, there were occasional patrols and collaborative missions, but Dick's been missing the times they could just sit together, play some stupid games, and just... be a family. Not that they had a lot of willingness and chances to do that before, but recently it was barely a thing, and Dick decided to cherish every second of this.
He was going through all his cupboards in search of some tea (he should really do some groceries, 'cause all he had was cocoa and some instant noodles) when he heard a rustling on his left.
"What are the brats doing here?" Dick took his head out of the cupboard and looked at his company. Jason was leaning on the wall with folded arms. He has already lost his jacket and was now in Dick's oversized hoodie. It still looked kinda tight on him, but he didn't seem to mind.
"I would venture a guess, the same thing you do," said Dick, fishing out a lost bag of tea that was hiding at the bottom of the drawer.
"You mean tormenting you out of sheer boredom?"
"Sure," Dick huffed. "If that's what you like to think."
Jason scowled at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Dick smiled. "Oh, you know, just the fact that we both know that you looovee me~ and just want to spend more time with me," he teased.
"Right now I'm starting to want to leave." Jason glared at him, but Dick saw that his face relaxed. Jason didn't like to talk about what was bothering him, and Dick respected that. There was only one time, when Jason'd opened up to him and hadn't actually fled, when Dick'd started reassuring him, but after that, things came back to normal. "But coming back to the brats," he added after a minute.
Dick sighed. "They're not doing well today. Needed someone to lean on."
Jason grunted and then added much quieter. "Yeah, tell me about it."
Dick didn't answer. It was nice to hear Jason admitting that he came here for support, but the grin on his face must have spread a lot wider than he thought 'cause Jason groaned at him. "Oh, shut up."
"I didn't say anything," Dick argued.
"Your face did. And I don't like what it's insinuating."
"You're imagining things again, Jay," Dick said and put a mug in Jason's hands. He eyed it skeptically, as if it wasn't their ritual every time he showed up like this, and finally turned over and waltzed out of the kitchen.
When Dick entered the living room, Jason was already sitting in the recliner next to the couch. His brothers were abnormally quiet, they were just sitting there, minding their own business, as if saying anything would ruin it all. Dick couldn't help but smile, and before he could even think about it, he opened his mouth and said. "What is it with y'all and stealing my hoodies when you're sad?"
He was answered with very enthusiastic ''m not sad' and 'fuck off' from Damian and Jason and a quieter 'it's comfy' from Tim, who was looking surprised at him over his cup of coffee.
The truth is he didn't mind it at all. Actually, he was happy that whenever his brothers had some kind of a problem, they came to him and that wearing his clothes brought them some kind of comfort. Even if some of his hoodies never found their ways back to his closet.
Dick sat on the armrest on Damian's side of the settee. Jason turned his head and winced at the TV.
"You're watching a fucking SpongeBob?" He tried changing the subject.
"It's a classic," Dick said and one hundred percent meant it. And Jason knew that too, 'cause they'd watched it together in the manor not so long ago.
"I am not listening to the opinion of someone wearing narwhal slippers. You have literally zero taste."
"Hey!" Dick spread his legs and put them on Jason's lap. "Narwhals are cool. Besides, it was a gift."
Jason shoved his legs on the ground.
"For sure," he sneered. "But still I won't discuss with you till you feed me. Seriously, what kind of a host are you? I'm here the whole five minutes, and you didn't even offer me a sandwich."
Dick opened his mouth to argue, but he was interrupted.
"Todd is right," Damian agreed. "Do you really have nothing except those old pretzels? You know, Grayson, if you cannot afford living on your own, you can always come back to living in the mansion. Alfred would not mind."
"As much as I hate to agree with this little demon, he's got a point," Tim joined. "Your fridge is almost as empty as Jason's head."
"Hey!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Dick got up so he could look at all of them at once. "I would prepare a whole ass fancy dinner if only one of you cared to inform me about it before storming here in the middle of the night." It probably turned out a little harsher than he thought. Dick was just teasing them. He didn't mind them coming over at any time. Damn, he was happy that they decided to come to him when they needed any kind of help. But Tim and Damian must have felt a little guilty about it, 'cause none of them came back with a snarky comment. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to joke about it right away. But hell, he has been hosting them since he moved out, they were always welcome here. They should have known that.
Jason must have noticed his surprise and inability to formulate a proper sentence, because before Dick could assure his brothers that he wasn't being serious, Jason saved the situation by continuing a scene.
"Like you should," he scoffed. "But you can order us a pizza, and you'll be forgiven."
Dick blinked at him.
"Jay, it's two in the morning, no one's gonna bring you a pizza."
Jason seemed to contemplate his words for a moment. "Well, then you fucked up."
Yeah, thank you, Jay, that was helpful.
"Well, lucky for you I'm a responsible adult," Dick said with theatrical manner. That statement brought a quiet chuckle out of his brothers. Good, so they were going back to normal. "And like every responsible adult without time for cooking or even waiting for a takeout, I have a whole stock of frozen pizza in the freezer, so hey, surprise, you won't starve to death. Who's happy?"
With a corner of an eye, he saw Jason rolling his eyes. He moved towards the kitchen. "Anyone up to helping?"
"What, you can't even reheat a fucking pizza by yourself?" Jason jeered.
Dick put a hand on his chest and gasped.
"Wow, it's hurting. I'm really hurt right now. I brought you under my roof, and that's how you're paying me off? Cruel."
Jason growled and was already opening his mouth to offend him in some new poetic way but was cut off.
"I'll go," Tim offered.
Dick threw his arms around him. "Thank you," he shouted. "See, Jason, that's how a real brother behaves. He helps."
Jason stuck to squinting his eyes at him, meanwhile, Tim decided to disentangle himself from Dick's arms and drag him to the kitchen.
Dick didn't mind. Otherwise he very likely wouldn't stop chattering about god knows what, so it's probably better they both ended up doing what they were supposed to do. And even if he was whining about the company mostly to annoy others, he was glad Tim agreed to actually help him. He liked having someone around, even if they were just a silent companion. He was a people person, so what.
"You know what, I was just joking, but you really have nothing in here except for a ketchup and a half-eaten jar of pickles," Tim said, digging through his fridge while Dick was putting pizza in the oven. "How do you manage to live like this?"
Dick closed the oven and leaned on a countertop to glance at his brother. "I'm doing great, thank you very much."
"Yeah, for sure," Tim smiled. "I saw your freezer. The only thing you've got there are cherry popsicles, and it's not something you can live on."
Dick smiled back. "Says the one living on pure caffeine and spite."
It was nice. Having such a casual conversation instead of mission reports and quick small talks during some galas Bruce insisted they all have to attend. Dick had no idea why they stopped doing this. Since he moved out, they haven't been seeing each other often. Sure, he was trying to visit them in the manor when he had some spare time, and sometimes they crashed his apartment just like tonight, but he hadn't even realized how rare it was happening. The sound of bickering resounded from the sitting room, and Dick couldn't help it when a grin on his face grew wider.
When Dick took the pizza out of the oven, Tim took one of the plates and walked out to the hall. When Dick showed up in the living room with the other plate a moment later, Tim was sitting on the couch. He and Damian were already arguing about who knows what and throwing pretzels at each other. Dick swung one leg over the back of the couch and sat between them to stop the fight before it could get a chance to get nasty. And knowing them, it definitely would.
Dick still remembered that one time, when during one of their arguments, Damian'd been threatening Tim with a knife. Well, he would never do anything to him, and everybody knew that, but it all had gotten kinda vile, and Dick's older brother instinct had kicked in, and he'd rushed between them. Well, that one's on him, 'cause Damian couldn't see him till the last second. When he'd realized that Dick'd gotten in front of him, he'd changed the trajectory of the blade as far as he could, but he hadn't had a chance to stop it, and so Dick ended up with a light cut on his forearm.
For the next two weeks, despite Dick's reassurances that he'd been fine and it had been one hundred percent his fault, Damian'd been blaming himself and hadn't wanted to talk to anyone.
"How 'bout we just think about what to watch?"
"And you think, what were we just arguing about?" Tim asked, straightening in his seat a little. "This demon brat has such terrible taste, we shouldn't even consider his vote."
Damian scowled at him. "Cut it out, Drake. I warn you."
"And what you gonna do? Stab me? You can't, you have a life ban for that."
Damian fixed Tim with a murderous glare before he reached towards a table and threw a slice of pizza in Tim's face. That brought a loud cackle from Jason.
It took Tim exactly two seconds to recover. "You little shit," he murmured and set about Damian. At the end he landed on Dick, who unfortunately was settled between them and once again became a victim of their fight. Tim was stirring and trying to strangle Damian, but the kid was fighting back, so they were just throwing hands at each other. At some point Dick was sure there were also teeth involved, but before he could react and stop them, some lost kick found its way right to his side. Dick moaned from pain. Judging by the strength and size, it was Damian's foot that decided to rearrange his guts.
"Little help?" He begged Jason.
"You kidding?" He laughed. "I'm perfectly fine. This shit is hilarious."
In response to that, Dick, being the petty little man he was, managed to set his arm free and threw a pillow right at Jason's face. When he realized what hit him, he glanced at Dick, and then eighty kilograms of pure muscle crashed over him. The fact that under it was a damn skeleton of a teenager, whose bones were stabbing him in the stomach, didn't help it. Dick needed a few solid seconds before he could breathe again.
"Wanna play dirty?" He groaned. "I can do that."
He bent slightly and sank deeper into the couch, only to lift his legs and send Jason over the backrest and onto the floor. The good thing was that he wasn't being crushed anymore. The bad thing was that it lasted only about three seconds before all their tangled bodies followed Jason. They crashed onto the wooden floor, causing the loudest rumble this apartment had ever witnessed.
"What the fuck?" Tim whined somewhere underneath him.
Well, at least they stopped fight–
"That's for using me as a training dummy, you dickface." Dick felt Jason's fist on his face. It's gonna turn into a black eye tomorrow, no doubt about it.
"Get your stupid ass away from anywhere near my face!" Damian yelled and pushed Tim, and soon enough they started to tussle.
Dick shifted to try and get onto his feet but was met with Tim's elbow hammering into his ribs. They both collapsed on top of him and didn't even seem to realize Dick was trapped beneath them for the second time today, and it was not a bit funnier on the cold, hard floor.
In the meantime Jason had to get some rebound punch from Damian, 'cause now he was pulling his leg and dragging him away. He was met with hissing and a really painful kick in the ankle. Jason cursed, let the kid's foot free, and sank down to strangle his youngest brother. In the blink of an eye, Tim joined them, apparently happy to have a chance of revenge on lil bully.
And then the room was filled with a loud sound of punching in the wall along with an old lady's holler. "Keep it down!" And the much quieter. "I'm too old for this shit."
Shit. Mrs. Stevenson's gonna kill him.
"Guys, stop it, we're too loud!" He tried, but it was like shouting at the wall. The only difference was that the wall wouldn't try to hit him for yelling at it.
When his begging was ignored, Dick decided it was time for plan B. He approached a struggling pile of flying fists and legs, caught Damian, and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then in a split second he grabbed Tim and Jason around their middles and lifted them. The room suddenly grew quiet, three astounded gazes staring at him.
"How the fuck are you still able to do that?!" Jason's bluster was the first thing to cut through the silence.
"It's my big brother duty," he announced. "And now be quiet, or else Mrs. Stevenson's gonna kill not only me but all of you as well."
Damian crossed his arms and muttered something along the lines of 'we'll see about it.' Dick walked in the direction of the TV and put his brothers back in their seats. He took his place in the middle of the couch, reached for a slice of pizza, and cheerfully asked.
"So, what do you want to watch?"
When Jason finally got over the fact that he was so easily manhandled by someone half a head shorter than him, he cleared his throat and said.
"We're obviously gonna watch the only good show on this planet, which is Avatar."
"Cameron's movie?" Tim asked confused, at which Jason looked offended.
"No, not the gigantic smurfs movie. The Last Airbender. What is wrong with you?"
Tim shrugged.
"Dunno, I'm tired." He turned to face Dick. "Whatever it was you gave me, I'm pretty sure it was decaf."
Dick just shrugged and smiled at him, which only made Tim frown.
"But we are watching the third season," Damian declared.
"What? Why?" Tim asked, as if the idea of watching something from the end offended him more than drinking something not containing caffeine.
"It is the best season."
"It doesn't make sense, we're gonna watch it from the beginning."
"No way," Jason interjected. "There's no Toph in the first season, and she held this show single-handedly."
After a while they decided to start with season two. Or in other words, that's what Dick decided, and others just had to go along with it. Somehow they all managed to shut up the moment the episode started. They turned off the light, and it was so unexpectedly quiet and calm, Dick didn't even realize when he closed his eyes.
He jumped in his seat when a pillow hit his face. He straightened and looked at the TV, blinking. They were maybe five more minutes into the episode, so it wasn't like he'd missed much.
"Shut up, Grayson, you are snoring too loud," Damian said, still holding a cushion.
"I'm not snoring."
"Yes, you are," Tim asserted. "I couldn't hear any dialogues because of you."
"That–"
"The windows were fucking trembling," Jason added, eyes still focused on the show.
"Well– I–" he stuttered. "You're just mean." They rolled their eyes at him. At least they agreed on something. Dick was sitting there for a moment, staring at the TV. "I'm gonna go make some popcorn," he offered and pushed himself up.
Maybe this will wake him up a little. He went to the kitchen, found the last pack of popcorn in the back of the cupboard, and put it in the microwave. He leaned on a countertop and could feel like his eyelids were getting heavier. He tried to fight it, but after a minute or two he started to zone out and then...
Boom.
And again.
Dick opened his eyes quickly. The popping in the microwave increased.
"Shit," he mumbled. Apparently he was more tired than he thought.
He came back after a few more minutes with a bowl and four mugs in his hands. He put cocoa in front of Damian and Tim (he's not giving this kid any more coffee at three in the morning, or else Bruce's gonna kill him), a tea ahead of Jason, and sat back in his seat with his own tea in hands.
His brothers didn't comment on it, they just reached for their beverages and began to fight over the food. At first Tim looked offended at the contents of his cup, but he tasted it anyway, and after the first sip, tried to hide his contentment.
"Does uncle Iroh also remind you of Alfred?" Dick asked after a while.
They looked at him bewildered.
"I mean, he's the most responsible adult around," Tim reasoned. "And he could probably take all of us in a fight if we pissed him off enough."
"But father would never banish him like Ozai did." Damian added. "He would die on his own."
The wave of laughter came across the room.
From his face, Dick figured out that Damian was still recollecting the last situation, when Alfred had been out of town, leaving Bruce in charge. From what they'd told him, it hadn't ended up well. Bruce'd almost burnt the kitchen down during his attempt at making breakfast for the boys. Luckily, Tim'd been passing by and had stopped the catastrophe before it could increase even more. After that, Bruce's ban from the kitchen had been renewed, and they all had lived on cereal and takeout till Alfred's return.
Maybe it sounded ridiculous enough, but Dick had no problem with believing it. He remembered how Bruce used to succeed in burning water for tea or had tried to feed him charred toast, which Dick had to throw away unnoticed.
At this point Bruce should make sure Alfred is gonna live forever and never gonna quit, or else he's not gonna last long. And as funny as it sounded, Dick didn't want to find out one day that Bruce died because he couldn't get out of his bed sheets or something like that.
"Hey Jay, remember when we made that slide in the manor, like the one they had in this one episode in the Earth Kingdom?" The memory popped into Dick's head.
"You what?" Tim turned to him, excitement shining in his eyes.
"Yeah, it was back in the times when he was still funny." Dick pointed at Jason.
"And you were less irritating," snarked Jason, but there was no venom in his words.
Tim and Damian's attentive sights were piercing him.
"We built it on the staircase railing and slid down on some old sled with jet propulsion, which we constructed in the Batcave," Dick explained. "When I think about it now, I'm shocked it actually worked or didn't blow up." Jason smiled at the memory and sank deeper in his chair. "Anyway, we took only one slide from the attic to the first floor, but it was worth it."
"We broke some old-ass vase back then," Jason added. "I'm pretty sure Bruce hasn't even noticed, but Alfred was really pissed off."
"He made us clean the old pantry." Dick shivered. "The one that no one used in ages. I thought I was gonna die in there."
"That was the time, I decided, I don't wanna be associated with you ever again," Jason said, as if it was Dick's fault.
"It was your idea!" He pointed.
"Yeah, but you brought the materials," Jason argued.
Dick felt Damian leaning on him and took a quick look at him. He was fighting to keep his eyes open and put a hand over his mouth to hide a yawn. This whole day must have worn him out.
"You think we should rebuild it?" Tim asked, though by the gleam in his eye, Dick knew it wasn't a question. He's gonna do it, one way or another. "Put Bruce in some kind of a box and slide on him? Like they did with Bumi in that one episode."
The proposition brought a quiet chuckle from all of them.
"Count me in," Jason said. "But only if Alfie isn't around, I don't wanna spend another day cleaning some suspicious jars with doubtful contents. I'm sure he still keeps it in that state, only to have a punishment for us."
"Father would murder us," Damian yawned.
"Not if he won't get out of the box."
Dick had no idea when he'd fallen asleep. He remembered chatting, but at the end he'd been so tired that now he couldn't even recall what they'd been talking about. He hooked his phone from in between pillows and unlocked it. He squinted his eyes and made a quiet squeak noise when the sudden brightness decided to attack him so ruthlessly. He locked his phone so quickly, he couldn't even see what time it was. After a minute or two, summoning all the willpower he possessed, he repeated his previous actions, somehow noticing the blurry numbers appearing on the screen. It was only five am. He shoved his phone back between the pillows.
Dick looked up. The TV was still playing quietly in the background, slightly brightening the whole room. He tried to move, but unexpected weight held him in place. Damian was sleeping with his head on Dick's chest and an arm extended in Tim's direction. To hold or strangle him, Dick had no idea. On his left Tim was hugging a bowl of popcorn. Jason was spread on the recliner nearby. Legs hanging over one armrest and head over the other one.
Dick gently raised Damian's head and put it on the couch and then stood up. He yawned and stretched out. Well, his couch was definitely not one of the comfortable ones. Now Dick could remember why he never fell asleep here. He took the bowl out of Tim's hands and put it on the table, then brushed his hand through Tim's hair to get it out of his face. It took him a solid five minutes before he finally found the remote under the armchair. He turned the TV off and then disappeared into his bedroom.
He came back a moment later with a bunch of blankets. He covered his brothers and returned to his place on the couch, sinking under his own comforter, and took one last look at this scene. It was weird having them all here, together, surrounded by such calm, but somehow it felt just right. He closed his eyes just when Damian returned to his position on his chest when he heard Tim.
"Dick," he whispered.
"Yeah?" Dick asked, not even sure if the kid was entirely awake.
"Thanks."
Dick smiled at him, although he didn't know if Tim could see it in the dark.
"Anytime." Yeah, it felt just right.
Dick was awakened by a loud rumbling and some shouting. It vibrated through his head, making him feel like his brain was shaking. He moaned and shifted, trying to ignore the noise. When it didn't go away, he forced himself to open his eyes. The first thing that hit him was the fact that it was aggravatingly bright in here, and Dick definitely didn't like that. He blinked a few times, trying to get used to the light. When his vision finally adjusted, he looked around in search of the cause of the noise.
Jason was still snoring quietly in the armchair, unfazed by the clamor. Damian, who was now resting his head on the armrest, frowned but refused to open his eyes. On his other side, Tim was hiding under his blanket, mumbling something inexplicitly.
He looked away from him, and then he found it. The source of a shriek. In front of him stood vexed Stephanie. She was stamping and throwing her arms in every possible direction.
"You had a sleepover?!" She yelled, which only made Dick wince. Too loud. Definitely too loud.
"I wouldn't call it that–" Dick tried but was cut off.
"Without me?"
Dick sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the rest of the sleep. "It just kinda happened."
"Really, Dick? And I thought, we're a family," she said in an exaggerated tone.
Damian shifted in his place, trying to go back to sleep. "Shut up, Brown."
Stephanie gave him an offended look and was already opening her mouth to say something, but Dick didn't let her. "If I ever make a sleepover, I'll never forget to invite you."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Promise?"
"Promise."
It somehow made her look more content than he could ever expect. "Good. 'Cause I already wanted to kick you out of my guest list for my pajama party."
"Oh my god, Steph, shut up already." Tim finally decided to get his head from underneath the blanket.
"Don't you Steph me." She faced him. "You were supposed to meet me an hour ago, and you didn't even text me that you're not gonna show up."
In response, Tim made some undetermined noise, so Stephanie, being a very placable person, decided to grab Tim's foot and pull it.
"Hey, what are you– let me go!" But soon enough he landed on the floor. Not even a second later, in an act of revenge, he knocked her over, and they both started to struggle on the ground.
On his right, Damian growled and hid his head under the pillow. Normally Dick would try to make them stop, but he was too tired. Stopping two teenagers from fighting wasn't on his Saturday morning to-do list.
But Jason had a different plan. He reached out and grabbed a pillow, which was lying on the floor, and with his face still in the armrest, threw it in their direction. "Can you two shut the fuck up already, it's too early for this shit."
The pillow covered a distance of barely one meter and reached its destination on the coffee table, knocking the bowl of leftover popcorn off and throwing it all over the table. Somehow, however, he managed to succeed, 'cause Tim and Steph ceased their brawl to glare at him.
"That was pathetic," Tim commented, crawling back on the couch.
"He's right," Stephanie agreed, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "You're slipping, old man. I thought you could do better than that."
"I'll show you better," he snapped, getting his face out of the armrest.
"Or maybe we'll just stop ruining my apartment and making my neighbors hate me even more." Dick suggested. "How 'bout some breakfast and cartoons?" He asked. "Steph, you up for?"
She grinned and jumped up out of her place on the floor, just to crash on the couch between him and Tim. "Sure thing, Circus Boy."