The Reds And The Robins

5) Mopey-Dick

Dick didn't end up leaving. Including when Jason pulled a gun on him, he had just smiled. Dick Grayson, when it came to family time, might just be impenetrable. They instead ended up all sat on the floor after Tim had refused the couch. (Tory. Jason had slept on benches less comfortable. Which said a lot about the benches, to be fair.) Tim had hidden his Nightwing mozzarella sticks from view, and Jason wasn't about to snitch on the kid because Dick's puppy dog eyes would come out and Jason wasn't totally willing to test how fast Damian could scale up the fridge. Ironically, Dick seemed ready to test this with his general clinginess, a hand through Jason's hair or around Tim's shoulders at almost every point. The only reason Damian found himself safe from old Octolimbs was because he threatened Dick. With his teeth. In his actual flesh.

Jason had never felt so proud of the kid.
(Dick had never been so concerned about rabies. And he'd been bitten by an actual wolf once. Circus kid things.)

Unfortunately for Dick, with the unison only belonging to younger siblings, Jason and Tim agreed silently to gang up on Dick. Damian joined in, too, mostly because he was at the age that he saw Jason as the pinnacle of cool. Jason could have harboured sympathy for Dick at one point, but alas, he broke into Jason's flat. So, when Tim asked so innocently if Dick got his fashion sense from the eighties, Jason watched with glee as he saw thoughts flash across Dick's mind.

Jason was playing chess and Dick had brought supplies for pickleball. Did Tim know about DiscoWing? And naturally, Dick shook it off because how could Tim know, before locking eyes with Jason. Previously, DiscoWing had been a closely guarded secret and Bruce didn't exactly small talk enough for anyone to have found out from him. However, Jason? He was just irritating enough that he might have told Tim. And that's not even mentioning the kid being a major stalker who could've found out through his own means.

"Nah, not really into the eighties anymore." Dick said.
"Well..." Jason said, mostly to elicit that panicked gaze. And he did. Dick looked towards him pleadingly. "Maybe you should get out, Dick?"
"We're having family time."
"Where's the family, dickhead?"
"You guys." Dick said. Jason got the impression that a less insane man would stop pushing.
"And Bruce?" Jason said. The insanity was semi-genetic (on account of them being adopted) after all.

"Little Wing, I don't think Bruce is the same as when you left." Dick said, obviously aiming for tactful. Jason raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Well..."
"I mean, I didn't... know him... before you died. But Batman got so much worse after."
"Worse how?"
"Have you ever watched Superman use all his strength before?" Dick asked.
"No but what has-"
"I have. He was holding Bruce back from murdering the Joker." Dick said, eyes somewhat dark, unreminiscent of his usual smiling self. "It was... weird. I dunno. How do you tell a dead kid's dad he's grieving wrong?"
"Well, turns out, you show up to his house telling him he needs a Robin after he nearly killed a mugger." Tim chimed in. 
"Forgot you did that, you unhinged brat." Dick smiled, ruffling Tim's hair. Tim batted his hand away, almost faceplanting into his burger as he did so. Dick pouted in response.

"Well, this has been nice." Jason said, even going so far as to slap his knees as he stood up. Dick, having been half-raised by a traditional Brit, immediately said, "It is getting late, isn't it?" and stood to leave, before turning to stare at Jason.

"Did you just Pavlov me into leaving?"
"I think Alfred did the actual Pavlov-ing. But yes, yes I did. Can you take the baby bird home?" Jason gestured at Tim. Tim opened his mouth to refuse, but Dick said yes too quickly. "Look, it's good, I was gonna-"
"If you say patrol I'm calling Bruce." Jason said. At the same time, Dick put his hands on his hips and began a refusal, before turning to Jason.
"Oh my God, you're turning into me." Dick accused. Jason flipped him off, throwing a pillow at him. "Get out."
"C'mon, Tim." Dick said, swinging his car keys on a finger.

Finally, the door shut and Jason was left with Damian. "You've been quiet." He accused. Damian glared at the door. "I have been keeping watch of the stranger."
"Shit, kid. That's just Dick. Richard Grayson, my adopted brother. He's a wanker, don't get me wrong, but he poses no danger."
"Yes. Because he is weak."
"Damian, he's unfortunately very skilful. I haven't tried beating him up with the new muscles, but when I was like twelve I never beat him. Actually, maybe he's just beating up twelve year olds. But he is very good, and very well-trained."
"I could beat him."
"How long did it take him to get your sword off you?"
"I have been disarmed before."
"Not by Grayson. Did he try and hug you after that?"
"No."
"Ugh. Be grateful. Once he gets his octopus limbs on you, he doesn't let go." Jason shuddered, picking up the Batburger related rubbish from the ground. "Look, kid, point is. Just because people don't look like the League, doesn't mean you underestimate them. And if you see a clown in this city, you run." He said, realising he hadn't actually warned Damian about Gotham. "This city is a cesspit. These people are dangerous, and I'm sure you could fight them but... don't."

Jason finally finished clearing the floor and looked up to hold Damian's gaze. The kid finally nodded. No more dead birds, Jason thought, before immediately internally protesting the idea of Damian as any form of bird. Maybe Gotham really was unsalvageable, a city of broken creatures and tar feathers, and maybe Jason was trying to keep the (his?) kid from... everything. Was that so wrong?

Jason glanced at his phone to the tracking devices installed on Dick and Tim (and Damian. He was protective, sue him). Both had made it home in one piece, so Jason called it a night and immediately went to sleep in his bed.

Somewhere, somewhere, a tracking device was crushed under a heel.