From Gotham to Las Vegas

I Love Being a Fed

"I hate suits," Jason groused, yanking on his tie as he followed Dick out the door of the hotel and into the night.  The air was humid from rain and the street was still slick with it.  Streetlamps flickered uncertainly and night had set in early; it was barely seven in the spring and it was already dark out.

Neon signs glowed in the distance, lighting up the night like fireflies circling over a lawn.  "Well, maybe if you wore one more often, you wouldn't feel so uncomfortable in them," Dick snapped back.  Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise.  "Okay, don't snap my head off," he replied mildly, putting his hands up in the universal sign language for  Back off, I'm unarmed.

They neared the car, fresh coat of black paint glistening in the street light's florescent glare.  Jason slid into the driver seat, causing Dick to sigh and stride along to the passenger seat.

"What's got you so grumpy?" Jason asked, turning to face him as he backed out of the parking lot and into the street.

"Nothing."

"I mean it, Dick.  What's gotten into you," Jason pressed, adjusting the rear view mirror with a hand, the other on the steering wheel.  "You're never this grumpy."

Dick shrugged, expression brooding.  "I just don't like casinos," he replied stonily.  "They make me edgy."

Jason nearly steered the car into the next lane.  Righting the car and pulling himself together with what appeared to be a huge effort, he looked at Dick out of the corner of his eye.  "You...don't like casinos?"

"No."

"But...how...that doesn't..."  Jason trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.  "Okay.  There's only one possible explanation."

"What is it?"

"We're obviously not really brothers."

"Jason."

"I mean it, no brother of mine hates casinos."

Dick rolled his eyes, sighing again.  "Welll, no brother of mine takes apart pens and then puts them back together again when he's stressed."

"No brother of mine doesn't own a single Bon Jovi C.D."

"No brother of mine would take a '67 Imapala over the Nightbird."

"No brother of mine names his motorcycle."

"No brother of mine doesn't name his motorcycle."

"No brother of mine is so paranoid that his girlfriend will find his Penthouse stash that he keeps them locked in a three-inch steel flame retardant safe."

"Oh, yeah?  No brother of mine-"

"What are you two doing?  You do realize that you're on com-link, don't you," Damian announced, breaking up the conversation.

A brief and highly uncomfortable silence fell upon both of them.

"Damian," Dick rasped finally.  "Please don't tell Barbara."

   

    

By the time they got to the casino, Jason had somehow worked off his tie and had to put it back on before entering.  "Damn dress code," he muttered, walking beside Dick up the front steps to the casino.

"Quit complaining," Dick ordered.  "It's very unappealing.  We're here to do research."

"Fine.  At least this time I'll have some fun doing my research."

"Jason.  No strippers."

"But we're right here.  How can I resist?"

"Just-"