Dickhead
Today 1:17 PM
We need to talk
Are you breaking up with me?
🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮
😈💀 eat shit, dumbass.
its about Peter
let's meet at that park you take Dog to
obvs bring Dog
so I guess it's not that kinda talk. I'll keep my tissues at home.
you might need ice for when i kick ur ass
I'm quaking in my boots.
Read 1:33 PM
— + —
"Tell me you didn't build Peter up for this."
They were the first words out of Dick's mouth after Jason met him at the park. Wordlessly, they'd done a single inspection lap around the perimeter before Jason let Dog off her leash, a move he now regretted. Dick, like the master strategist he was, had claimed her before picking the fight. He squatted beside her, an arm slung over her muscular back while she attempted to cover his face in doggy kisses.
The wagging tail, paired with Dick's spluttering laughter, made it incredibly difficult to maintain the anger these kinds of 'discussions' usually drew from Jason.
He worked his jaw instead, hand clenching on the now empty lead. He rolled it up and shoved it in his back pocket.
"Try not to go around calling him a sacrificial lamb to his face. He's sensitive about that kinda stuff."
Dick stared up at him behind the shield of Jason's dog. Bastard. "Peter is Spider-Man, isn't he?"
"Jeez, try to say that any louder?" Jason drawled, though their corner of the park was empty and Dick had voiced his theory quietly. His brother clearly had already mapped out where he'd take the conversation — hence the weaponisation of Dog. Jason briefly contemplated derailing things by blowing up anyway, but there was all likelihood Dick had accounted for that, too.
In no way was he surprised, of course. With a family full of hypercompetent detectives, it was only a matter of time. If anything, he was more surprised the accusations hadn't happened earlier. Besides, there were benefits to having Dick on-side. Easier to counter Bruce's (hypocritical) disapproval of a new cape in town if the eldest was there to bat for Spider-Man's team.
So rather than explode with a performance of anger, Jason pulled a ball and ball launcher from his backpack. Dog immediately wrenched herself from Dick's arms and bounded around Jason with excitement. He shot a smirk at Dick and let both ball and Dog fly.
"Damn," he caught Dick mutter, but when the man straightened, he was smiling. "Ja—"
"Would you believe me if I said no?" Jason cut in conversationally.
Dog came racing back, ball successfully secured. Dick intercepted her approach. Dog, the traitor, dropped the ball immediately at his feet. Grass swished as her tail wagged violently, mouth lolled open with expectation. To his credit, Dick didn't even grimace at the slobbered ball but Jason, feeling petty, kept the ball launcher to himself.
Off she raced again. Dick turned back to Jason with an unimpressed stare.
"There's no way he isn't," he said, grim and firmly decided in the way he got sometimes. He got that from B.
They all did.
"And what makes you think that?"
"New to the city—"
"He's been here for five weeks."
"A meta—"
"Not like that's a prerequisite."
"Partnered up with you—"
"I ain't averse to team ups."
"He was on a ten-storey roof last night!" Dick snapped, finally cracking beneath Jason's bland rebuffs. Jason held back a grin. Poorly. "Barefoot and on a rooftop in the Upper East Side, after travelling at crazy speeds!"
Jason shrugged. "Maybe he can fly."
He was saved from being strangled by his eldest brother by the return of Dog.
"Give me that," Dick said instead of committing fratricide, and snatched the ball launcher from Jason's hands. He tossed the obediently dropped ball and Jason shoved him, throwing Dick's aim far off. Dog shot after it anyway, uncaring of the tussling Jason and Dick immediately fell into.
They ended up on the ground after a well-placed kick to the knee — could've been Jason's, could've been Dick's. Was probably both. Tufts of grass flew through the air, joined by bickering shouts. Jason was grinning viciously, laughter sharp in his throat even as he twisted to dodge Dick's jabs at soft and vulnerable places. It would've ended with one of them in a headlock had Dog not come back and inserted herself into their brawling, barking excitedly and licking any face she could get to.
"Ahhh fuck! Fine!" Dick shouted and shoved himself away.
Dog immediately turned her full attention on Jason, proving that the perfidious creature at least had some loyalty. Laughter burst out of him again. He wrapped his arms around Dog to hold her still. Buried his face into her neck but it only gave her open access to his ear. Her tail thumped with bruising force against his leg, pitched up against the ground. Still laughing, Jason finally sat up. Immediately. Dog flopped over, settling between his legs so he could scratch her belly.
"I'm too old for this," Dick groaned. There were bits of dried grass in his hair and a smudge of dirt on his chin.
"Please. You're twenty-eight."
"More like twenty-eighty. I don't understand how B keeps up with us. The idea of still doing this in my forties…"
They both shuddered at the thought.
"Spite, mostly," Jason said, because the alternative would have been to say that neither of them could even imagine surviving to their forties.
Dick chuckled, unaware of his maudlin thoughts and sat up. He studied Jason and Dog carefully.
"… What?"
"It's just…" Dick's smile was careful. "It's just nice. Seeing you like this."
Jason frowned.
"It feels like you're back," Dick continued, only to follow quickly with clarification, as though realising the implications. "In Gotham, I mean. For good this time. Dog — and Peter — they've been good for you."
Jason's frown deepened, but whatever waspish thing he might've snapped at Dick was derailed by Dog, who pawed at his stomach since his pets had stopped. He huffed and returned to giving the queen her requisite affections.
"So that's why I don't understand, Jay…. Why would you let him put on the suit?"
Jason sighed heavily and hung his head. "It's not what you think."
"Well, tell me what to think, Jason!" Dick grabbed his arm. Dug his hands into Jason' jacket as he stared with the desperate need for an answer. "Because all I can see is that the traumatised young man you're dating is suddenly swinging around the city, one month into cohabitation! All I can think, is that youenabled a meta to put on a cape and fight!"
"… Did Babs tell you?"
"Barbara knows?"
"Huh. Guess not."
Dick's eyes narrowed. "We'll be steering back to that. But you gotta give me some credit, Jason. I'm a detective, just like the rest."
"You even got paid for it, sellout."
"I was nothing but a beatcop, and you know it!" Dick hissed. "Stop trying to get me riled up—"
"Trying?"
"Jason, this is serious!"
Jason abruptly sobered. "I know."
Dick's face spasmed. "Then — why?"
"Look, you think I had any say?" Jason sighed. "It was outta my control. He didn't even know who I was."
Dick's eyes widened. "He did it of his own volition? Behind your back?"
Jason pulled a 'what can you do?' face.
Dick frowned. "Wait. Was? He knows now?"
"Of course he fucking does. He ain't dumb."
"And… the rest?"
Jason levelled Dick with a flat look. "Not explicitly, but he's observant. His running theory before the penny dropped was the mob."
Dick groaned and scrubbed his face, only to realise it was the same hand he'd used to pick up Dog's ball. He raked it through his hair instead and shards of dried grass went flying. "So you're saying, we've got an untrained meta showboating as a hero, who alsoknows all our identities?"
"We~ell… I wouldn't say completely untrained."
Dick looked up at sharply. "The prepper story's bogus, isn't it?"
Jason neither confirmed or denied.
"The cult?"
Silence.
Dick shoved him in frustration. "God, Jay, where did you find him?"
"Oh, we just crashed into each other, just like he said," Jason drawled, unwilling to betray Peter's confidence any more than he already had.
… He still hadn't said anything about the DNA sequencing… Shit. Pete wasn't going to like that.
"How did he get his powers?"
"Oh, the usual way, I imagine. Science of dubious ethical grounds and consent, and a who~ole lotta bad luck."
"Jay, this is serious!"
"Of course it is!" Jason snapped back. "You think I want him out there? He's good at putting on a show but I know he's not doin' okay! But short of chaining him down every night with fuckin' mithril, there ain't much I can do to stop him. And who the hell are youto criticise me, anyway, boy wonder!"
Dick whined and hung his head between his knees. "Oh God, I—"
"If you say you know how Bruce felt, I'll fucking punch you."
Jason's threat startled a laugh from Dick. "Noted." He sobered and looked back up at Jason. "He's still untrained."
"But he ain't inexperienced," Jason returned. "I don't know everything he's done before we met, but if you met him in the suit, you'd see he's not brand new. He dealt with the dollotrons and Pyg's goons crazy fast last night, as I'm sure you've read." Even if he was a shitty team player, Peter worked with an efficiency that spoke wonders about his experience.
"But Jason—"
"Dick," he growled, suddenly sick of it all. "Would we be having this conversation if he'd partnered up with anyone else?"
"Absolutely we would!"
"Hm. You're right. Maybe if it was Steph. She's always caught flack, hasn't she?"
Dick's eyes flashed dangerously. "He knows too much."
"Oh, boo fucking hoo. You should've hidden your scars better, I guess. Bat's outta the bag; what're you gonna do? Lock him away?"
"Of course not—"
"Exactly. So I'm doin' the next best thing: bringing him into the fold. Ain't my problem you're all gettin' butthurt 'cause it's me doing it instead of a Bat-approved representative." Jason grinned savagely. "You got nothin' to worry about: ain't a chance in hell he'd ever end up like me."
"He assaulted Pyg last night!"
"He got two hits in," Jason scoffed, annoyed. He'd read that article. Should've accounted for witnesses but got caught up in the heat of the moment. That was lazy of him. But who the hell was Dick to criticise Peter for what he did? The hypocrisy was fucking laughable. "Not any more than what you or I've done. Get off your damn high horse, Dickie. Pyg deserves far worse than anything you or I or Pete could ever dish out."
Dick suddenly sagged. Jason didn't fool himself into thinking he'd won the argument.
"Look, I'm just concerned," Dick said, quieter now.
"So'm I. I don't want Pete out there! He's too…" Jason grimaced as he struggled to find the right word. After last night, he hesitated to call Peter 'soft' as he'd done before, but equally, it didn't feel far off. "Too warm for this godforsaken city."
And yet… she'd still laid claim to him… What did that say about Peter except to corroborate the thread of steel that ran straight through the seam of goodness Jason had noticed from the very beginning?
He swallowed thickly. "I am worried. Worried this place'll ruin him."
Dick's expression softened. "Jay."
"Last night? It was just a taster of what's to come."
Since Constantine's visit, Jason had been unable to shake off the feeling of omen when it came to Peter. He had a vague recollection of 'the Red' but couldn't recall its origins. But honestly? Jason didn't need to know what it was. He understood Constantine well enough: something big had set its sights on Peter and Jason dreaded whatever it ended up happening to be.
Dog nudged his arm and he resumed his petting. She was a comforting weight over his lap, solid and warm, even if she left pale fur on his dark jeans.
"Do you think he'll be scared off?" Dick asked. "Is that what happened last night? When I found him?"
Jason shook his head as he laughed humourlessly. "If anything, last night just make him more obstinate, I reckon."
And that was the truth, wasn't it? Peter was a mess of contradictions: stubborn about some things, flighty about others. But this was something Jason was now certain of. Gotham was dangerous, but Peter had committed himself to her… at least for as long as this universe could keep a hold of him.
But if Peter thought he might be the danger?
He'd run. Flee and lose himself on the wind so thoroughly even Bruce'd struggle to find him.
Dick nodded slowly. He was chewing on something, unsure if he should say it.
Jason rolled his eyes. "Spit it out."
The returning glare was short-lived. "Peter said something to me last night… it worried me."
When was there a time when Peter said something that didn't worry Jason? Probably only when he was making Jason laugh at the ridiculous things he came up with. Even then, Jason was still occasionally as concerned as he was amused.
"What'd he say?"
"He… seemed to think he owed his old life something," Dick said carefully. He watched Jason with sharp eyes as he spoke, but Jason refused to give anything away. There was good reason Peter'd think so, but Jason wasn't about to share it with the class. "You have any idea what he meant?"
"Nothing for us to worry about."
"But… is there really no home for him to return to?"
Jason nodded.
"What did he do, Jay? To wherever he came from?"
"Nothing that I'd tell you of."
Dick opened his mouth, ready no doubt to spill some bullshit about duty of care when really he was just nosy and Jason held up his hand.
"It's not my story to tell."
Not now that Peter had finally opened up to him. Jason had no interest in sharing Peter's secrets — any more than he had already. And certainly not if they had little impact on his now indefinite stay in Gotham.
"All you gotta know, is that Pete's not a danger. He's unskilled but not without talent. He's smart and good, and he's just as much a right to be here are the rest of us." Jason suddenly laughed. "If anything, you should be thanking him for finding Pyg. As far as I'm concerned, you're just gonna have to suck it up and accept there'll be a spider ruining the whole bats and birds aesthetic."
"B isn't going to be satisfied with that."
"I don't give a flying fuck what B thinks!" Jason snapped and shut his eyes to reign back the flare of his temper. Dog sat up and snuffed at his chin, probably anxious over his tone. He ran a soothing hand down her back. When he opened his eyes again, it was to level a glare at Dick, daring him to say something. "This is my city, just as much as it's his, or yours or anyone else's and I say he can stay. I'll train him. Try to keep him alive — don't give me that look, Dickhead. I want him around, okay? I refuse to let this dump of a city ruin him. And that includes me."
Dick blanched, surprised. "You're not—?"
"Training him up to become a weapon? Fuck no. You think that's what I want? For anyone?" Jason thumped his chest, frustrated because they never understood. "I carry that weight. I take that responsibility so this world can be a less shitty place. Why the fuck would I want to traumatise others with that duty?"
Dick stared at Jason as if he'd never seen him before.
Jason sighed. Hauled himself to his feed. "Are we done? I think I'm done here."
"Jay—"
"I'm getting coffee. Come if you want, but you're paying."
"I…" Dick scrambled to his own feet. "Are you going home after?"
"I am. You won't be."
"But—"
"No." Jason snapped the leash back on Dog's collar. "Pete's had a rough night. He's peopled out."
Immediately, Jason grimaced at his wording. Peopled out. Peter and his absurdisms were rubbing off on him.
"Will he patrol tonight? Bruce still wants all hands on deck, just in case. Same goes for tomorrow."
Jason had assumed as much. Just because Pyg was captured didn't mean it was crisis averted. There was every chance some other bastard would come out of the woodworks to wreak havoc instead — or worse, they'd had the wrong end of the stick from the get go.
"Probably," he conceded. "But we'll be sticking to Park Row and Burnley."
"I'll pass on the message," Dick said. The grim expression from earlier had returned. "Duke'll be joining us the next couple of nights."
"Narrows?" Jason fought back a grin. He liked the kid. He had guts. Of course he would, spearheading an army of Robins while the city tried its hardest to break them[1]. "Good to know."
Dick snatched Dog's leash from Jason. "I'm poor right now, so you better be ordering a short Americano."
Jason cackled. "Cheapskate," he jeered and shoved Dick in front of him.
They jostled each other the whole way to the coffee shop, Dog trotting ahead, none-the-wiser. And despite Dick's protests, Jason managed to wheedle a donut or three out of the deal, under the guise that one was destined for Peter.
— + —
Peter
Today 2:41 PM
Hey ar u still at the park?
we're out of milk
and eggs
We had a dozen left.
And I wanted eggs for bfast
You burnt the first batch, didn't you?
I don't want to talk about it
2:49 PM
— + —
Though the ruse was well and truly over, Peter and Jason didn't leave together that evening. Jason wanted to fit in a workout before patrol, while Peter said he needed to finish tweaking at his new mask — apparently the one he currently used wasn't up to snuff.
Considering it was little better than a balaclava with goggles slapped on top, Jason was prone to agree. In partnership with the rest of Peter's suit, he gave the impression of having been dressed in collaboration with a professional designer and a ten-year-old.
Peter had not responded well to Jason's observation and he'd wisely made himself scarce. Not before making a comment about talking the talk and walking, though.
Fifth-grade origami heart my ass.
In the early hours of the evening, Jason ran through his workout at the gym around the corner from safehouse number one, closed on a Sunday night but that meant little when you were in cahoots with the owner. Throughout the warm-up, cardio and boxing drills, Jason's gut churned with anxiety.
They'd scorched the snake, but had they killed it? Reasonably? The answer was yes. Pyg was once again behind bars — for however long those bars would keep him — and there were no other significant names wandering around Gotham. If Pyg had been the big one, any other rogues would be hard-pressed to come up with something truly diabolical in the span of forty-eight hours.
Just organising enough men for a job with such short notice would be difficult. And conspicuous.
But not impossible. If Gotham could say anything for herself, it was that she could make the impossible as possible as breathing. But she loved to be unpredictable… perhaps they'd get lucky and this would be one of the few uneventful Halloweens.
The city'd earned it. What Pyg did to those people…
He hit the punching bag hard enough it went swinging wide, and Jason let it fall back with a resounding slap to his bandaged palm. Stop… he should probably stop. The burn of well-used muscles and the deep ache of day-old bruises was warning enough Jason should wrap things up. Injuries were reserved for botched jobs on the field, not a poorly executed workout.
He ran through his warm down routine, slipped on a hoodie and sweatpants, and left. The security system fell back into place with a resounding click as he walked out, jogging down the street — not empty, not yet — and let himself into the old post office through the back entrance.
The green light flickered softly as he keyed in the security code. Jason paused.
There were one of three entrances— no. Four. Thanks to Peter making himself a new exit through the window. Damn. Fixing that was going to be a pain… the kind of pain that should end with him just picking somewhere new to set up shop…
Jason really didn't want to. The safehouse was one of the few that remained from his Outlaw days. Biz had been the one to set up the security while Artemis jeered at the very concept of 'safe houses' themselves, lounging on the kitchen counter like a Roman politician as she bitched about it.
The number pad beeped expectantly. Jason cursed under his breath and pressed his thumb against the screen. The glass vibrated softly as it registered his biometrics and Jason slipped inside. A peek in the garage showed nothing suspicious. No bike, but it was still at the other safehouse, ready for pick up later that evening.
He withdrew his Jericho and crept up the steps. Silence reigned, but that meant nothing. Beside the door on the landing, the green light on the security pad flickered just as the other one had.
Jason didn't need to, but he checked the security feed anyway: sure enough, a familiar figure stood in the apartment, a patch of artificial darkness on his phone.
He didn't put the gun away, but he did lower it, safety on, before he opened the door.
"Couldn't wait for a rooftop?" he sighed. A cursory glance — already checked on the feed — confirmed there was no one but them. This observation did little to soothe Jason's ruffled feathers.
Just because Jason knew it was coming, didn't mean Batman's visit was a welcome one.
"I didn't think it merited the open air," Bruce said. To Jason's surprise, he pushed off the cowl the moment Jason shut the door. No risk of exposure, though. Bruce was perfectly positioned to be out of view of the broken window, which had been taped up with black trash bags.
The duct tape and bags still sat on the kitchen counter. Jason raised a brow. "That your doing?"
"I thought it prudent."
He sighed and put away his gun. Helped himself to a protein shake from the fridge and drank it quickly. Bruce's eyes were heavy on him the entire time, and Jason worked hard to keep his pulse steady and his temper even. The anger was always there around Bruce these days. Anger at Bruce's failure. His disappointment.
… His rejection.
At Jason's own inability to escape the longing for a time that no longer belonged to him. And the way it hurt him, every time he realised that.
He set the drained carton on the counter and faced Bruce properly. "Go on, then."
"Spider-Man is Peter Parker."
Jason's mouth opened in mock surprise. "What? He is?"
"You're not surprised."
Jason dropped the act. "I live with him. Of course I ain't fuckin' surprised."
Bruce's lips pursed minutely. "You didn't make him that way."
"Oh no, he was like that when I found him. Just took a while for the turtle to come outta its shell." Jason dumped the carton in the trash and noticed the fragments of glass. He laughed softly to himself. Fuck. Why couldn't Bruce just be a piece of shit and let Jason resent him in peace? "If you're here to voice your disapproval, save it. There's nothing you or I could do to stop him."
"Last night was—"
"Bad," Jason pre-emptively agreed. "But it could've been a whole lot worse. That's down to him."
"Those webs are efficient," Bruce acknowledged, and Jason tamped down on the irrational flicker of pride. Idiot. He had nothing to do with those chemical marvels. That was all Peter's doing. "Oracle says he found Valentin's base. But he didn't respond to your commands."
"I suspect Pete's worked by himself for a long time." Jason drummed his fingers on the cheap counter. "It'll take some time for him to get used to more collaborative efforts."
"It's dangerous to be ruled by instinct," Bruce said slowly. Carefully, as though walking through hot coals.
You're the hot coals.
Jason drummed his fingers harder. "When you've got next to no training, instinct is all you've got to work with."
"He'll need training."
"Yeah."
"With you."
The drumming fingers froze. "… Me?"
Bruce smiled then, fond and a little exasperated. "I know you well enough, Jay. You're not going to defer to me, or Dick."
"You're damn right there," Jason said immediately. He titled his head as he thought about it. "I wouldn't say no to Cass… or Duke, since they both metas. The Robins, on patrol."
"That could be arranged." The quiet held between them for a good twenty seconds before Bruce found something else to latch onto. "Where is he from, Jason?"
Jason shrugged. "Here and there."
"Outside of those forgeries — and they're convincing, I'll admit — there's no trace of a Peter Parker that matches. It's like he appeared from nowhere."
"Who knows," Jason bared his teeth as he grinned. "Maybe he dug himself outta a grave."
Bruce flinched minutely. Jason was torn between guilt and satisfaction.
"Metas don't appear from nowhere."
"Whatever made him is gone," Jason growled. "Gone, Bruce. This isn't a rabbit hole you need to go down."
"Jay, I understand that you're protective, but—"
"But what?" he finally snapped and Bruce's shoulders predictably squared up at the challenge. "Where he's come from doesn't matter! And if you're worried about a Hood two-point-oh, then don't be. Peter's more like you than he'll ever be like me." Jason pulled a face as he realised the implicature. Gross. "At least in the ways that count. You met him, B. Tell me that's a guy who's gonna be a danger to us. To Gotham. Fuck — Cass's met him. Tell me she thought he was bad."
Bruce's silence was telling.
Jason decided he was finished with the conversation. He stalked to the bedroom, talking all the while. "We'll be out with the rest of you tonight. You'd best get back to your rooftops, old man."
Fortunately for both of them, Bruce took that as the dismissal it was. "Be safe out there, lad."
"Of course."
"Both of you."
Jason paused at the wardrobe, drawer half open. "Of course," he repeated. He kept the 'I'll keep him safer that you did me,' to himself.
By how swiftly Bruce made his exit, Jason suspected his thoughts hadn't been so silent after all.
— + —
"Hey, Bitsy!"
The shout had Peter pausing mid-swing, nearly slamming into the next building over. Peter ducked and tumbled across the wall, stopping moments before he could smash through a window. At least this time, there was no one inside for him to scare the crap out of. He climbed up the brickwork and stood on the ledge, fists planted firmly on his hips.
Across the street, Red Hood was laughing at him.
Peter tapped on the comm: first thing he'd done was integrate it properly into a mask, this one leagues better than the stop-gap fix he'd worn the last few days.
"Don't you know better than to distract me while I'm driving?" Peter quipped.
Jason snorted over the line. The image of two kids talking through cups and a piece of string popped into Peter's head and he laughed himself.
"What, you didn't notice me?"
"That's not how my powers work." I think. Sure, he noticed eyes on him, but not who those eyes belonged to. And swinging down the streets, he caught the attention of plenty of Gotham's residents. Parsing out one from the multitudes was easier said than done.
Jason beckoned with a red-gloved hand and Peter hunkered down like a diver. The jump across was laughably easy — easier, he thought, that it had ever been on Earth I. Was the gravity different? Or was it something else he could chalk up to the forceful changes in his biology? He'd have to investigate.
Maybe not tonight, though, he reflected as he rolled across the flat rooftop and bounced up onto his feet with a flourish.
"Have a good warm-up?" Jason asked, doing a spectacular job of ignoring Peter's theatrics. It was very disappointing. Peter blamed the headgear.
"So so," he said, feigning casualness through his pulse was thrumming with the joy of being outside again. The horrors of last night were still there, but muted now he was out beneath a clear sky.
"Great. I got some bad news though."
"Oh?" Peter frowned. Hard to discern through the modulator, but he was pretty sure Jason wasn't using a 'bad news' voice. "Lay it on me."
"Well, word on the street is…" Jason leaned close enough Peter could smell him. "You're Spider-Man!"
Peter stumbled back in shock, hand firmly over the insignia embroidered onto his suit. "Me?"
"You."
"Such slander? At me? Who's your source?"
"The Batman himself."
"The Batman? That philandering snake?" Peter bounced around Jason in agitation. "How very dare!"
"How dare indeed," Jason purred.
"Spider-Man!" Peter wailed. "Spider-Menace — that I could take! But Spider-Man?"
"You certainly live up to the menace part of the name."
"Unforgivable! I demand a duel!"
Jason barked a laugh that bordered on the insulting. "Bitsy, I hate to break it to you, but whatever delusions of grandeur you've got goin' on'd be wiped out pretty fast if you duelled the Batman."
"Oh? And who's your source for that one? Also the Batman? How convenient!"
"You wanna go at it?" Jason challenged. "Tell you what. If you can beat me, I'll let you duel Batman."
Peter of course, understood the absurdity to Jason's statement. He wasn't stupid enough to think fighting Jason — powers or no powers — would be easy. Or successful. Or dignified. But the night was young and running hot through his veins.
Who knew a good cry and a solid seven hours of sleep could be so rejuvenating?
He squared up, legs planted just as Happy taught him.
"Bring it."
There was no warning: one moment, Jason was a handful of feet from Peter; the next, there was a fist swinging up at Peter and Peter flipped away, only to be grabbed by the foot and yanked back. He twisted as he fell, but Jason was ready with a punch to the gut that nearly winded Peter, only saving himself with a clench of his abdominal muscles. Spinning off, the two circled each other warily. Peter's blood thundered through him, thrilled with the violence.
Probably should reflect on that at some point.
Not now though. Now, Peter's focus was solely on Jason, tall and menacing against the Gotham city backdrop. He moved with silent steps to match Peter's, not even breathless from the show of strength.
Peter launched the next attack. He came in low, aiming for the knees, only for Jason to throw himself onto Peter and then they were scrambling for supremacy on the rooftop.
He knew the outcome the moment they ended up on the ground — Peter wasn't used to fighting like this, but Jason clearly was and for all Peter's attempts at mimicking an eel, it ended up with Peter pinned down, Jason pressing his full weight into Peter's wrists, thighs tangled in a vice around Peter's legs.
"Yield?" he rumbled, masked face only a few inches from Peter's. Close enough his heavy breaths puffed audibly though the muzzle.
Peter stared up, transfixed by the proximity. He was wildly grateful for the mask, because his face was on fire. His brain kept short-circuiting with each brush their heaving ribcages made against each other.
"Do you yield?" Jason demanded, blissfully unaware of Peter's minor crisis.
by Onyxmistkes 😭😭😭
They separated enough for Peter to finally string his thoughts together into something vaguely coherent.
"Yield," he rasped.
Jason was off him instantly. Peter sat up, dazed with… something. Definitely a whole lot of something. Wow. Ohhh dear.
"Guess you won't be having that duel with Batman," Jason chuckled. "Sorry, Bitsy."
A hand appeared before Peter and he took it, shaking away the remaining strangeness as he stood.
"No fair," he whined, rapidly finding his lost ground. "You know I wouldn't use my full strength!"
"And look at that," Hood drawled. "I won. First lesson: in a win or lose scenario, you lose if you don't use your full arsenal."
"Easy for you to say," Peter groused, but he couldn't stop the smile from bleeding into his voice. "Your 'full arsenal' doesn't involve the ability to punch someone's head clean off."
"Maybe not," Jason admitted. "But I could cut it off just as easily."
Peter blinked. A frisson of something passed through him, and mortifyingly, he wasn't entirely convinced it was purely disapproval. "Uhm."
"Don't worry, Bitsy," Jason said, oh so casual as he brushed himself down. "I only save that for the realnaughty boys and girls."
"What a relief," Peter said dazedly.
Jason turned back to Peter. "Ready for patrol?"
It took a great deal of effort to shake off the strangeness but shake Peter did. "You mean the thing you interrupted me from already doing so you could pass on the hot goss?"
"Yep."
"Then, hell yeah."
"Great. First to the border of Burnley wins!"
And before Peter could say anything else, Jason was running for the edge of the rooftop. Peter's gut swooped with fear and horror followed by a fizzy chaser of delight as Jason leapt through the air and landed with a light roll onto the neighbouring building.
"I'll give you a head start, shall I?" Peter said into his earpiece.
He was rewarded with Jason's gutsy laughter dancing through the night.
[1] For anyone unaware, Duke started as an unofficial Robin as part of the 'We are Robin' movement and became a leader. In 'Robin Wars', Gotham passed several laws outlawing anything to do with Robins, including their imagery, in an attempt to destroy the movement (there'd been an orchestrated scene where a Robin killed a police officer)…