[Third Person PoV]
Danny was sitting atop the cold metal table in the middle of the kitchen, his legs crossed in a relaxed but slightly tense manner. Between them sat a half-melted bucket of ice cream, its frosty surface glistening under the flickering fluorescent lights above. The faint hum of the ceiling fan filled the silence, cutting through the awkward stillness that hung between the two of them.
Dick was leaning nearby against the same table, his own bucket of ice cream in hand, occasionally taking a slow scoop while watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. He could see Danny's gaze flicker toward him every so often before darting away. Finally, with a frustrated groan, Dick said, "Just say it already!"
Danny blinked, spoon halfway to his mouth. "Say what?" he asked innocently, though the way his shoulders hunched betrayed him.
"You keep looking over here like you're dying to say something but keep chickening out," Dick said, exasperated, pointing his spoon at him. "So just spit it out before I die of suspense."
Danny glanced down, scooping another bite. "...But you're gonna make fun of me," he mumbled, shrinking slightly as he stuffed the ice cream into his mouth like it could protect him from embarrassment.
"I'm gonna make fun of you either way," Dick replied dryly, leaning back with a smirk. "So you might as well get it over with."
Danny hesitated for a moment, twirling the spoon between his fingers before muttering, "Okay, just… don't laugh." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I kinda… missed you a bit."
The second he said it, his face went red. He immediately crammed another spoonful into his mouth as if the cold could douse the heat creeping up his cheeks.
Dick couldn't help but snicker. "Danny, I'm flattered, really—but what would your girlfriend say?"
"Arghhhh!!" Danny groaned, clutching his head as the inevitable brain freeze hit him full force. "See?! This is why I didn't want to say anything!" he whined, glaring at Dick through watery eyes. "I knew you were gonna make it weird!"
Dick burst out laughing, nearly dropping his spoon as he tried to catch his breath. Danny, meanwhile, rubbed at his temple, still glaring half-heartedly before his expression softened.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet—vulnerable in a way that caught Dick off guard. "I mean… it wasn't just you, obviously. Bruce and Alfred too," he said slowly, staring down at his melting ice cream. "Whenever I did something cool or built something with my dad, I'd always think, 'Wait till Dick or Bruce sees this!' or 'Ha, Dick would love this one.' Stuff like that. I got so used to having you guys around that it felt weird when you weren't."
For a moment, Dick didn't say anything. The air grew still, and the faint hum of the lights filled the silence. Dick really didn't know how to respond to that and after thinking about it, he smiled softly and said, "Yeah… I get that. I missed you too."
Danny turned to him with a deadpan look. "No you didn't."
Dick gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, fine, you got me. But in my defense, you were literally gone for like fifteen minutes. I barely had time to miss you."
Danny snorted, amused despite himself, and went back to eating.
After a short pause, Dick tilted his head curiously. "So, what were some of the things you wanted to show me? I mean, I wasn't there then, but I'm here now, right?"
A mischievous smirk crept across Danny's face, the kind that always meant trouble. Slowly, he began to glow faintly, his form flickering between human and ghost. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, grinning. "So, I've been experimenting with my ghost powers lately, and I figured out something pretty awesome."
Danny focused for a moment, his body shimmering before his skin turned transparent, revealing the intricate network of muscles and bones beneath.
Dick's eyes widened in horror. "Ugh—Danny! That's both disgusting and impressive at the same time!"
"I know, right?" Danny laughed, clearly proud of the effect. "If I can control this, I might be able to use it on others—to see internal injuries, broken bones, that kind of thing. My own built-in X-ray vision." He grinned wider. "But that's not all. I realized I've been totally underusing my invisibility. Instead of just disappearing, I can make it way creepier."
"Danny—" Dick started, but it was already too late.
Danny concentrated again, and his eyeballs vanished, followed by the inside of his mouth, leaving only hollow, black voids inside his eyes and mouth. Then, to make things worse, he started stretching his jaw unnaturally wide and started mimicking creaking echoing sounds with his ghostly wail.
Dick threw up his hands, eyes shut tight. "Danny, I'm begging you—please stop! I'm serious, I'm losing my appetite!"
Danny chuckled softly as he rubbed his jaw, wincing slightly in discomfort from the lingering ache of his earlier jaw-stretching stunt. "Okay, okay—ow—yeah, maybe I overdid that one," he muttered, massaging his face. Then, with a glint of excitement in his eyes, he added, "Also, check this out…"
Before Dick could respond, strange slits began forming along Danny's arms, thin lines that pulsed faintly with ghostly green light. The lines split open into small mouths, sharp teeth glimmering as tongues flicked out and wiggled like curious snakes. The slits circled his forearms in a perfect ring until they all yawned open at once. Then, as if that weren't strange enough, Danny lifted his hand and held the back of it over his own mouth—where another mouth appeared right on his palm, mimicking his grin.
Dick's eyes widened in disbelief. "Whoa…" he breathed, leaning forward instinctively. His curiosity got the better of him, and he reached out, lightly turning one of the slits on Danny's arm between his fingers.
"Dude!" Danny yelped, smacking Dick's hand away. "I can feel that, you know—" He said, clapping a hand over his original mouth, "—Ahh!!" He froze mid-sentence as his palm-mouth accidentally brushed against his lips. His eyes went wide in horror. "I just kissed myself on the mouth!" he shouted, shoving his own hand away and dramatically spitting to the side.
Dick completely lost it. He doubled over laughing, clutching his stomach and nearly dropping his ice cream. He had to lean against the table just to stay upright, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "Oh my god, that's the funniest thing I've ever seen! You—" he gasped between laughs, "—you literally made out with yourself!"
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Danny grumbled, but there was no real bite in his tone. His cheeks were flushed pink as he muttered under his breath, "I hate you so much right now."
Still trying to calm his laughter, Dick wiped at his eyes and asked, "Wait—can you actually eat with those things?"
Danny blinked, looking down at his arm-mouths thoughtfully. "I… I don't know. I don't think I've ever tried."
"Try it," Dick encouraged, barely suppressing another laugh.
"Fine," Danny said, grabbing a spoonful of ice cream. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly fed the spoon into the mouth on his hand. The result was instantaneous—he jerked upright with a startled shudder. "Okay—wow—I felt that go right into my stomach."
Both of them froze, eyes wide, before sharing the same childish grin.
"…Cool," they said in perfect unison.
A few seconds later, both started chuckling quietly. The tension dissolved into something comfortable, something simple and human. The only sounds were their spoons scraping the tubs and the hum of the lights overhead.
Danny's smile faded slightly as he stared into the melting swirl of ice cream. His reflection rippled faintly on the spoon. After a moment of silence, his voice came out low and almost fragile. "I couldn't do it…"
Dick turned his head. "Hm? Couldn't do what?"
Danny hesitated, twirling his spoon in slow circles. "Sacrifice you or Bruce for my parents," he whispered.
The air seemed to still. Dick's expression shifted from confusion to quiet shock. "What are you—" He stopped, seeing the look on Danny's face, the way his eyes avoided his.
"There was a way," Danny continued, his voice trembling but steady enough to push through. "I could have saved them—my parents and Jazz. All I had to do was wish that all of Penguin's wishes, except the first one, were undone. If I'd done that… they would have still been alive."
He scooped another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, his expression twisting faintly, somewhere between guilt and grief. "But I couldn't do it," he said, voice cracking slightly. "It wouldn't have been fair—to you, to Bruce, to anyone. I don't know what kind of live you were living under that spell, but something told me it wasn't good. And… I couldn't just leave that be, even if it meant getting my family back."
He swallowed hard, the words trembling on his tongue. "I keep telling myself it was the right choice—that it's how things were supposed to be, back to how it was intended. But if that's true, then why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel wrong to be right? I feel guilty that I even want to undo what I did, because you guys don't deserve to pay for my own selfishness."
Dick sat there in silence, the words hanging between them like a weight neither could lift. After a long moment, he moved. Quietly, he hopped onto the table beside Danny. He didn't say anything at first—just sat there, staring at the wall ahead of them.
Finally, Dick spoke softly. "I don't think I ever really expressed my gratitude," he said, his tone gentle. "For what you did—for all of it."
Danny kept his gaze down, eyes glistening.
Dick reached out and placed a hand between his shoulder blades, giving a firm, reassuring pat. "You gave up something most people couldn't," he said. "And even if Bruce doesn't say it—because, you know, he's Bruce—I know he's grateful too. What you did took real strength, Danny. You made a choice that saved us all. And that makes you one hell of a person. One I'm proud to call my friend."
Danny's lips trembled as silent tears rolled down his face, dripping from his chin and darkening his shirt. He nodded weakly, unable to speak around the spoon still resting in his mouth.
Outside the door, Bruce stood quietly in the shadows, arms crossed. He didn't move, didn't make a sound. His eyes were lowered, his expression unreadable—but the way his shoulders slumped just slightly said more than words ever could.
After a moment, he turned away. His footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor as he descended back toward the Batcave. The distant hum of the computers filled the vast, cavernous space when he entered again—only this time, someone was waiting for him.
An unmistakable figure stood leaning against the console, his red cape draped casually behind him, the "S" on his chest gleaming under the soft glow of the monitors.
"Care to explain what's going on, Bruce?" Superman asked, his tone calm but curious. "Whatever happened earlier—it wasn't normal. I thought about letting you handle it, but, well… you know me." He offered a small smile. "I couldn't just ignore it."
Bruce's jaw tightened. "I regret ever giving you access to this place," he muttered. "This isn't your concern. I have it handled."
Superman crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. He didn't respond—he just gave Bruce a look. The kind that cut through pretense and silence alike.
For a long beat, Bruce said nothing. The two heroes stood there, the soft glow of the Batcomputer flickering across their faces.
Finally, Bruce let out a quiet, frustrated exhale.
"...Fine," he admitted. "I lied. I'm completely out of my depth here."
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