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“That’s absolutely wonderful, Dickie,” Vicki Vale said with her trademark shark-smile. It seemed a little strained, however, given the topic they were discussing. “Miss Gordon is such a...a very intelligent woman. The commissioner must be giving you a bit of hell, right?”
Dick laughed in response. “Oh, I’m sure I won’t be calling him dad anytime soon…”
Laughs, big laughs from the studio audience. Ever since Vicki had gotten her own Gotham-News (aka Wayne Gossip) show, Dick had been on exactly four times. It had been two months.
“Well, I hope he warms up soon. Best of luck,” she responded, giggling. “Now, on to some more serious topics...as you well know, the anniversary of your little brother’s death is coming up soon-”
Dick’s first thought wow, what a kick-in-the-teeth mood change, and his second was Damian ? and his third thought was Tim? So of course, when his mind finally settled on Jason, Dick wanted to punch himself. His biggest little brother, his first little brother, and the farthest thing from his mind.
The audience had grown solemn. “Right. It’s always very hard…” Dick stammered, caught off guard. Most reporters knew better than to ask about Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne’s dead son. It usually ended with a very angry Mr. Wayne, which was never good. What was different about this year?
“Five years since the incident,” Vicki Vale murmured, acting sympathetic. “It was so very tragic to hear about little Jason’s death. Only fifteen years old. I myself cried for days on end. He was in an interview with me once, and he was just so charming and cute.”
Dick resisted the urge to gag. Vicki Vale had written scathing reports on the manners of the newest Wayne child, if he remembered correctly. The headline for one of them “ Brucie Wayne’s latest project- from the projects .” Bruce and Alfred had been furious, but Jay himself was satisfied with just being in the papers.
“Don’t worry about it, Dickface,” he’d said when Dick had brought it up, waving him off. It was a rare occasion during Jason’s first year where Dick wasn’t mad at him or Bruce. They had been in the Cave, sparring, and Jason had muttered a curse in Spanish as Dick knocked him down, which was adorable, leading Dick to not be as pissed as usual. “Dad always said the only time I’d ever been in the paper was for my obituary- and I’ve just proved the old man wrong.” If Jason could hear this right now, he’d probably have a different reaction.
And then Dick thought about how he wasn’t sure how Jason acted on the anniversary, as he’d been with Talia or the Outlaws or in Arkham for all of them, and how maybe, just maybe, if Jason was watching this, he’d need some cheering up.
“Yeah,” Dick gritted out. “Yeah, it’s a pretty somber time. But, you know, I’ll never forget Jayjay." Jason would love this. Or be pissed. Eh. He'd take his chances. He even threw in some sad, damp eyes for free. “He has such a, such a strong presence in the house, sometimes it’s like he’s right next to me. It’s like I can hear him, still.”
The audience clapped, satisfied for awhile with this latest Wayne activity.
“That’s just the sweetest thing, Dickie,” Vicki said, dabbing at her eyes, despite the lack of tears she was shedding. “Now, back to your engagement-”
“‘Yello,” Dick said, pressing the phone up to his ear. Alfred was driving him home.
“Goldie .”
“Hey Jason,” Dick greeted, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Catch the show?”
Jason’s scowl was apparent even through the phone. “They still ask you guys about me? For real?” he asked as answer.
“Heh, you wish.” Alfred had a smirk on his face, and Dick counted this as a win. “They usually dial it back, but there’s always going to be a few questions around April, obviously. Never any for Bruce, though. Just me, Tim a few times, Cass once or twice. I even think Dami’s got one about you, few months back.”
“Damn,” Jason whistled. “The good folk of Gotham care about me dying more than Bruce did. That hurts.”
Dick sighed “Jason…” into the phone, and Jason huffed.
“Kidding. Mostly. But seriously dude, Jayjay?”
“You boys cut quite the pair. Don’t they, folks?” Alexander Knox asked, and the applause button flashed, signalling to the audience. They cheered and clapped and two middle-aged women whistled, triggering Tim’s blush.
“Thank you, Alex,” Tim replied gracefully. “It was a struggle for Alfred to get Dami in his outfit, believe me.”
Alexander laughed goodnaturedly. “I can see that , Timmy. So, Damian, how’s the academy treating you?”
Damian, playing the role of cute youngest very well, dived into some after school special, which had Alexander smiling, as ever, and the audience cooing. By the end, he’d won their hearts, and smirks at Tim. This little competition they have, trying to get the most applause each interview, makes it much easier to play their parts. Dick called it an adorable brotherly competition, Alfred called it promising, and Damian called it bloodsport. Tim didn't really know how he felt about it, but it sure did make boring interviews go by faster.
“Adorable. Absolutely adorable. Isn’t he the cutest, folks?” Alexander asked again, and the audience cheered again, and Tim was developing a migraine, he swore to God.
The one shining light of this taping? Tim had seen Dick’s Vicki Vale exclusive last week, and had the greatest plan of all time.
All that he needed to happen was-
“So boys, Jason Todd, your older brother, died five years ago. Well, four years and 361 days ago, anyway. Neither of you ever met Jason- how does that affect you, come the anniversary?”
Yes!
“Well, Alex, to be honest, I wouldn’t say I never met Jason,” Tim confessed, looking genuine. Murmurs from the audience. “I’ve heard enough about him and been told so many stories, and I feel like I know my brother very well.”
“Ah, that’s touching,” Alexander said with a solemn nod. “Just touching.”
“I know so many details- like, of course, I would have preferred to actually meet him in person. He’s my big brother, I’d love to get to see him for even five minutes. But I disagree with the idea that he’s not
mine
, just because we never spoke.”
Damn, Jason was gonna explode.
Alexander, for his part, looked actually apologetic at Tim’s loss. “Of course. Of course. You consider Jason part of your family?”
“Definitively,” Tim responded. “We all feel like that.”
“Damian?” Alexander asked. “Anything to add?”
Damian glanced at Tim, putting it all together most likely, and said, “I know even less than Tim. I was only six when he died...but he’s spoken about often enough, and I know a lot about him. Todd and I would have a lot in common, I believe.”
A lot in common. Wasn't that the truth. Tim legitimately had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing, though he posed it like he was overcome with emotion, and Alexander handed him a tissue.
“Amazing, absolutely amazing. Aren’t they just amazing, folks?”
“ Fuckers ,” Jason hissed when his brothers walked through the door.
“Such a warm welcome,” Tim replied at the same time Alfred yelled “Language, Master Jason!”
Jason had enough dignity to look cowed. “Sorry Alf.”
“It’s quite unbefitting to be so rude to your brothers,” Alfred said, but he was smiling at the black sheep of the family, and he patted Jason on the shoulder as he left the room. “I’ll make some snacks.” And he was gone, leaving Tim and Damian to the mercy of their senior.
The second Alfred had turned the corner, Jason directed his attention to the boys. Well, boy singular- while Jay was distracted, Damian had scattered too, the little…
“Timmy, Timmy, Timmy,” Jason crooned, backing Tim into the corner. Not that he was scared of his brother, not since he'd been rehabilitated about a year back, but one should not anger Jason Tidd by mocking his death, especially when Alf wasn’t nearby.
“Jace, Jace, Jace,” Tim answered. “Something wrong?”
Jason moved in closer, and closer, and closer till they were face-to-face, inches apart, and he finally spoke.
“‘ He’s my big brother, I’d love to talk to him for even five minutes ,’” he mimicked in a high pitched voice.
Tim sighed. Whatever, it was better than him being mad. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Probably not.”
Bruce had insisted that Vicki didn’t need another exclusive. That she should know better to ask on the day before Jason’s anniversary. Alfred had agreed.
So, the scheduled Brucie and Cassie interview became a Cassie interview.
“Cassandra, I absolutely love your dress,” Vicki gushed, petting Cass’s hair like she was five. Bruce, watching from home on the TV, bit back a growl.
Jason, to his right, sharing a big a Twizzlers with Stephanie, who had come over because she loved to watch her girlfriend do publicity for the family, grinned. This, he declared earlier, was going to be good.
One would think, Bruce wondered, that a man so obsessed with his death would be slightly more upset about these running jokes. But Jason seemed amused, if a little miffed. Bruce hoped that was healing, and not, for example, him leading the family into a false sense of security so he could jump them later.
Bruce mentally slapped himself for thinking that.
“Thank you,” Cass responded, smiling. “It’s a...Versachel?”
“Versace, you mean?” Vicki corrected, laughing. The audience chuckled too, and Bruce bit his lip to keep from spitting out something hateful.
“Right.”
Vicki made a few attempts at banter with Cass, but the duo never seemed to find a good balance with one another. Vicki never tried to encourage Cass, Cass never laughed off Vicki’s rudeness (rather the opposite, really, which made Bruce, Steph, and Jason proud.) At one point, Jay and Steph applauded Cass’ takedown of the host, and promised to take her out for dinner to thank her.
So, Vicki resorted the topic on everyone’s mind.
“You never met Jason Todd, right, Cassie?” Vicki asked, her ‘Serious Reporter’ face on.
Cass seemed pensive. “No. I- we talk about him sometimes, but it’s...sore subject.”
“I can understand that,” Vicki agreed, trying for understanding and instead sounding stoic. “What do you know about him? Has Bruce or Dickie told you much?”
“He liked green,” Cass ventured hesitantly.
There were mumbles coming from the audience. Green? That’s it?
Bruce, sitting in his armchair, sucked in a breath. Most of what Cassandra knew about Jason, even after his strained return to the family, came from a single conversation Bruce had with his daughter on Jason’s seventeenth birthday.
“Green? Green what?”
“Just green. Cars, too. Green cars, probably. Pretty girls and boys, and being around Alfred, and reading,” she added, listing more and more.
Bruce glanced at his son.
Jason was staring at the TV, obviously surprised. Shocked would be more appropriate. His mouth was gaping open, his eyes focused. Steph let out a small breath, disbelieving. Cass and Jason, while friendly enough, never meshed quite as well as they both did with the other girls in the family. “How’d she know that?” she mumbled.
“Marlboros, people with red hair….when Bruce would read to him, hmm. Cooking. When people spoke Spanish with him. His mom. He loved his step mom and his birth mom,” she said, and that was definitively Jason choking out a breath in Bruce’s peripheral. “He liked chilidogs, Barbara told me that. And...I think he liked acadim- school. I think. I know all that.”
“Um,” Vicki fumbled, clearly taken back. And so was Bruce, so he couldn’t blame her. “Who- who told you-”
“Bruce. Dad.”
And with Cassandra’s gleaming white smile aimed right at the camera, she knew what she was doing. And she was pleased.
Stephanie flipped off the TV, already prepared for damage control, grabbing her pseudo-brother’s hand, trying to help her fellow Dead Robin from doing something he would regret, starting to say “Jay, don’t-”
But Jason was in motion, pulling Bruce out of his chair, face-to-face, and sometimes Bruce forget that Jason was now his height, but he remembered now, and he braced himself for the screaming match he probably deserved, that would ruin the hard-fought peace he and his son had been trying for-
And then he was being hugged. By Jason.
“Oh,” said Stephanie.
Hug back, you idiot, a voice that sounded vaguely like Alfred said in his head, and he complied. Cocooning Jason in his arms, tucked Jay’s head in the crook of his neck, gripping his shoulder. Bruce was reminded of simpler times, when Jason had been thirteen and cautious of getting too close, when Jason was fourteen and loved his family deeply, when Jason had been fifteen and was cradled in his father's arms once last time...it had been years since they had been this close, non-violently. They didn't touch much, as an unspoken rule. Bruce could be very tactical with his children when he wasn't brooding, but he and Jason had been keeping their distance, lately. His son had started it, despite what most would assume. When he had taken notice of the deliberate space between them, he'd suspected that Jason, who despite his recent progress, would never completely purge the Lazarus Pit from his veins, couldn't fully control himself and feared he might hurt Bruce if their contact became too close. Bruce had allowed it for his sake. He didn't like it, but he'd allowed it.
And before that, if had always been flying fists and a finger jabbing into his chest accusingly, powerful uppercuts and right hooks, a batarang thrown at his son's neck...
And then Jason pulled back, working his jaw, forcing Bruce out of his head.
“You told her about me?”
It took Bruce a minute to realize the question was aimed at him. “Yes. Yes, of course, she was new into the family, and I wanted her to know who you were.”
“Pretty boys and girls?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked.
“Both Donna Troy and Roy Harper were aware of the crushes you harbored as Robin,” he confessed. “Sorry.”
“Heh. Figures.” He was smiling though, a very small smile. “Marlboros, though? There is no way you knew what I smoked.”
Bruce, without thinking, snorted. “It was fairly obvious you smoked, despite Alfred and I’s best many attempts to stop you.” Technically, Jason had kicked his habit about seven months after being adopted, but that was neither here nor there. It was enough time to learn what Jason smoked.
“My dad used to smoke Marlboros,” Steph commented absently, testing the peace. Bruce had nearly forgot she was in the room with them, which was not unusual for him. He;d been trying, trying hard lately, to make everything he'd done up to her. Cass had been helping him, seeing as how she knew her girlfriend best.
“I know," Jason said, in reference to her comment.
“Your dad and mom both smoked Regal, though.”
“I know. Your mom didn’t smoke.”
“Just popped pills.”
“Uh huh. Sheila liked Marlboros too.”
“That why you picked it up?”
“That’s why I quit,” Jason replied with a killer smile. It was for show. As had already been brought up in Bruce's thoughts, Jason had quit cigarettes roughly one year before he'd ever heard the name Sheila Haywood, but Bruce decided to let Jason have the one liner.
Nonetheless, Bruce cocked his head. “I find it concerning how easy you two find it to segue into conversations like this…”
“Team Bad Upbringings,” Steph cheered, fist-bumping Jason. “Cass can join. And Dami.”
“Team Dead Robins,” Jason insisted. “Cass can be an honorary member, since she died twice.”
Bruce sighed, bringing on laughs from the kids, but he grinned when they weren’t looking.
Cass had given him a wonderful present, and he’d have to thank her later. In fact, Dick, Tim, and Damian were all deserving of as well. They’d made Jason’s anniversary seem normal, which was worth Bane’s weight in gold.