The Reds And The Robins

10) Great Expectations

Dick wasn't dead when Jason woke up. Success felt so easy these days, honestly. Damian was either faking or still asleep, and Dick was likely processing some emotions from the night before. Jason gently wrangled Damian off of him, but the kid's grip was iron-clad, so he ended up just carrying him. He snuck over to the fridge and began making breakfast as quietly as possible. Today felt like a pancake day, after all.

Jason managed to juggle cracking eggs and holding the kid, who was definitely faking now, but he continued holding him regardless. He managed to whisk the pancakes in a piss-poor imitation of an Alfred breakfast before admitting defeat and placing the kid back on the couch. Dick finally awoke as the pancakes began cooking, and Damian cracked his eyes open immediately to stand vigil. The kid reached into the couch for a knife, and Jason found himself pulling his hand to his hips and glaring. "Kid, you've turned me into Dick, put the fuckin' knife down."
"He has a knife?" Dick asked, as if he hadn't been threatened with a sword originally.
"Well, we have a knife." Jason said, watching the kid stash it back angrily. Dick spluttered.
"You made pancakes?" Dick asked, flocking towards the kitchen easily and leaning to grab one. Jason slapped his hand. "Patience is a virtue."
"You literally went to hell!" Dick complained, sitting at the island patiently. Damian sat next to him and shot a kick under the table. "Tt." Damian said, crossing his arms as Dick yelped. "Do not disrespect Father like that."

Jesus fucking Christ, this breakfast was a nightmare. "Dick, Damian, set the table." Jason ordered, flipping another pancake steadily. "And if you fight I'm calling Roy to eat these and you two can find some cereal somewhere in this fucking house."

Dick raised his hand in surrender. Damian tutted, but picked up three sets of cutlery. "Do not invite Harper, he is a nuisance."
"Vouch." Dick added, likely just to chat shit about his friend. Jason raised an eyebrow, and Dick obediently began searching cupboards for plates before Damian corrected him with as much condescension as a child can manage. (A ridiculous amount, it was Damian). Dick huffed, grabbing plates and beginning to get maple syrup, sugar and lemon juice. "Damian, how do you have pancakes?" Dick asked. Damian scrunched his nose up, glancing at Jason for guidance. Jason froze. "Have I not made you pancakes yet?" He asked, dreading the answer.
"No." Damian said. Jason blinked.
"I forget you were born in a murder cult." Jason said. Damian nodded, perhaps to point out Jason's perceived failure. Jason grimaced and pulled out some other toppings, for a balanced spread that wasn't just his and Dick's favourites.

"Jesus, Jay." Dick whispered, glancing at Damian who was setting the table. "What are we doing?"
"I don't know, Dickie. Our little brother got kidnapped two seconds ago, we buried a corpse, and my kid has never had pancakes before."
"Well, when you put it like that it sounds crazy, but who else is mad enough to do it?"
"Ain't that the fuckin truth." Jason said, sighing as he flipped the final pancake. "Take the plate through?"
"Sure. You're doing a good job, you know?" Dick said, picking up the blue ceramic.
"Of pancakes?"
"Sure. Pancakes." Dick snorted. Jason tossed a hand out to rough Dick's hair up as he stalked towards the table.

Jason began loading pancakes with sugar and lemon juice as Dick reached for enough maple syrup to drown a giraffe in. Damian eyed between toppings for a moment before reaching for the strawberries and a tiny sliver of Nutella. (It was more indulgence than he would have allowed himself a few months ago. Hashtag progress and whatnot).

After breakfast, with Damian committing to his pancake choices, they cleared the table. "I'm gonna check in on baby bird." Dick announced. "Do I tell him about last night?"
"Bring him here?" Jason requested. "Or, actually, we can join."
"Indeed. Drake is superior to Grayson."
"Way to make a girl feel special." Dick snarked. Damian reached for another knife under the seats. "Kid." Jason warned, regretting hiding so many knives for personal safety. Dick seemed to agree as he narrowed his eyes at Jason.

Jason shrugged unapologetically as he pulled his shoes on. The Docs took an age to lace up but fully worth it. He put effort into looking punk rock. He pulled on his leather jacket and looked down at Damian, who definitely needed a leather jacket of his own. Dick was shrugging on a Nightwing themed jumper and Jason was not jealous at all, no sir, why would he want merch? He was intensely jealous. Dick did however have a leg-up as Bludhaven's only vigilante at one point. Fierce over-protectiveness dictated that Nightwing had branded everything, from t-shirts to diving fins. Jason just wanted a tee, or maybe a hoodie. And maybe he wanted to see Damian in a little Red Hood sweater. Was that so much to ask?

Despite Jason's musings, they did end up leaving with a knife presumably tucked somewhere on Damian's person, knowing the kid. They managed to stumble into a less unstable part of Gotham with minimal trouble and found themselves near Bristol. They wandered up to the imposing silhouette of Drake Manor and Dick knocked on the door. Tim opened it after a beat.

"Baby bird!" Dick cried, glancing at Tim's body for injuries as he launched himself the same direction. Tim grunted as he caught Dick's weight with the skill of a fifteen year old faced with the weight of Dick Grayson, a skinny acrobat. He promptly dumped Dick on the floor. Dick made a wounded noise as Jason stepped over the threshold. "Hey, Timbellina."
"Like... Like Thumbelina?"
"You're about the right size." Jason shrugged unapologetically. Tim immediately threw himself at Jason, who found the weight of a fifteen year old significantly easier. He held Tim out by the armpits as the Robin attempted to kick at him, before Tim paused.

"Dick? Ignore this." Tim said, before immediately sinking his teeth into Jason's flesh. Jason dropped him immediately, cradling an injured hand to his chest. Dick snorted. "You're on that side of the whole biting thing for once!" Dick said cheerfully. "Two Face's face when you bit him still.... rent free."
"I didn't bite Two Face on the demented part. To be clear." Jason obfuscated. Dick raised an eyebrow. Jason raised a middle finger. "We're going for lunch or something. Cmon, Timbo, this house gives me worse creeps than the Opera House!"

Tim rolled his eyes and slipped his shoes on. Damian filed down Drake Manor's extensive drive, followed by Jason and Tim, followed by Dick. The door closed behind Dick, although this did not drown out a round of laughter from the four. Were one to peer from the window, they might see the smallest boy aboard the tallest boy's shoulders, but one would not. One wouldn't see a man with a Nightwing themed hoodie ruffle Tim's hair, nor would they see the brothers at lunch.

The house was empty without its sole resident, after all.

"The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together make me." - Charles Dickens