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It’s always a bad time when a bat intrudes on a Red Hood case. Regardless of if they’re on the same team or not; whether or not they have the same end goal, Jason doesn’t take kindly to interference of any sort. It doesn’t matter that Jason is a brilliant tactician and an amazing strategist, that he’s adaptable and capable of making changes and adjustments to his plans and contingencies on the fly–his initial plan is the ideal plan, the best means of accomplishing what needs to get done and if someone fucks it up, he’ll fuck them up.
The long and short of it being: Dick is fucked.
It’s not like he knew Jason was going to be here though. Undercover, no less. Because Jason is abysmal at communicating, the secretive little punk, none of the bats had any way of knowing this case was already covered. And sure, they could have assumed, but Jason takes on a lot of responsibilities. There’s a lot of mess in the Alley for one person. Despite Jason’s insistence that he has his territory covered, he can’t be in two-three-four places at once. Which is unfortunately just how it is in the Alley. So they like to err on the side of caution when something big comes up, just so that nothing gets missed.
Dick’s not mad about Jason keeping cases close to his chest, either. He gets it. Their family is nothing if not a bunch of busybody control freaks. No one is shy about involving themselves if a case piques their interest. Besides that, Jason needs to learn how to accept support. There’s nothing wrong with it and Jason will figure that out sooner or later.
All that to say: Dick’s heart was in the right place on this one. It was important (both in case content and in showing Jason that his family can be reliable), so Dick wanted to make sure it was covered just in case Jason had to be somewhere else.
Which Dick honest to goodness believes is the case for the first hour he’s sat in this sleazy, upscale strip club. To be frank, all of his attention has been on the mob boss sitting across the booth from him–on conversing and charming, but not so much as to make himself suspicious or draw any undue attention. It’s a dangerous game with the mob, but Dick has always had a knack for walking tightropes. He stays carefully mindful of the atmosphere around the table, around the boss in particular and those he keeps close at hand. Constantly reading their expressions, their body language.
They’re in good spirits, relaxed and at ease. Smug. Cocky.
Dick doesn’t actively talk details out of them, choosing the most roundabout avenue possible for safety’s sake. It’s rewarding when sly comments are shared. Discreet enough that someone not in the know would just think an inside joke was said, so Dick laughs along with everyone although they’re most definitely laughing at his perceived ignorance.
There comes a point where he has the table in a fit of cackles from the humor Dick’s adapted to fit this crowd that he hears a warning from his comm to tone it down; don’t want to be too likable. A hard ask, honestly. Dick still heeds the warning though, reeling it in and pretending to be distracted by a dancer on stage as he takes a small sip from his drink. Subtle as the information they’ve received has been, it’s been insightful. Dick can push for more though. Wants to confirm as much as possible given everything that’s on the line. Too many people are at risk; if Dick can gather just a bit more intel–it will be worth it. He’ll keep the mood stable; no tension, no stress. If it comes to it, he’ll deescalate and disengage. Until then though–another uproar from the mob around him as Dick chats. Charming, but not too much so. Charismatic in a way that brings a sense of nostalgia to the boss–his humble beginnings and the empire it’s leading to.
Dick lets him talk. Translates all the obscure language in his head from ‘private investments’ to ‘illegal dealings,’ and ‘innovative pharma’ to ‘new illicit drug’. ‘Funding new business ventures,’ just a flippant, nice way of saying, ‘new channels, more runners, greater this and that and–’
On and on. More and more.
It’s a mercy that this club enforces anonymity; masks for all patrons and staff. Not good masks, but good enough when combined with the moody lighting. It throws a shroud over anyone’s identity. It keeps Dick a mystery, no insignia rings or ink to show he belongs anywhere. Just a stranger to boast to, to be forgotten about come morning.
Anonymity is damned when a server approaches them though, dressed in the signature, classically lewd bunny uniform all the servers on staff are required to wear: long ears, fluffy tails–the works. The strippers have a similar motif going, noted only because Dick needed somewhere to look so he didn’t seem too keen to these men and women he’s sat with. That need is quickly shot when a full and perky bust is thrust into his peripheral because–fuck.
That Dick recognizes Jason by pecs alone says more about Dick than it does Jason.
He’s in denial over it for all of a few seconds before Dick raises his gaze to catch Jason’s. Their eyes widen simultaneously, realization striking them both hard and heavy. ‘Shit,’ seems to be the shared thought, made worse when Dick’s attention drops then shoots right back up again.
Obvious as the exchange between them feels, it’s as if nothing happens. Just a quick, fleeting show of interest although Dick feels too warm, nearly hot beneath his collar. He’s grateful for the moody red lighting. Especially when Jason gets called away and Dick’s gaze trails after him–dropping to a fluffy white tail pinned to the back of that salacious uniform and–oh. Jason turns to look back at him, catches Dick looking; they’re definitely both flustered now.
All of Dick’s careful focus just left the building. It’s possible he might need to disengage for the simple fact he can’t think straight anymore. He’s a consummate professional though. So is Jason. They’ve got this. It’s all good.
Embarrassment still seems to get the better of Jason though and he uses his serving tray to hide his ass as he walks away, head ducked just slightly and expression some sort of way because tables start catcalling him. Whatever persona Jason had been working up for this undercover gig is most definitely ruined and replaced by Jason’s less-known maiden-tendencies. Exposing that was definitely not part of whatever plan Jason had going, just the same as how Dick being here in Jason’s territory, on Jason’s case, wasn't a part of the plan either. It’s all made worse because Dick is casually chatting up Jason’s prime target.
Yeah, Dick is in for it later.
For now though, he struggles to keep his attention where it ought to be–on a dangerous man with an even more dangerous, damning plan. It’s honestly embarrassing; Dick is a professional, but all he can hear are the lewd calls for Jason behind him because Jason exposed an appealing side of himself that no one can refuse–that no one ought to have seen at all–and Dick–fuck he can’t help but steal quick glances over his shoulder. Both curious and becoming steadily more irritable because each time he looks, Jason is being beckoned or swatted at; felt up and pulled down into a myriad of mens’ laps. He catches his finger tapping in annoyance along his glass tumbler more than once. Has to force himself still because he can’t have the mob thinking he’s impatient with them.
(Why can’t people keep their hands to themselves though? Jason does a lot to steer hands clear of him, but one drunk actually gets his top pulled down and gropes and Dick about loses it; smiling tight to hide his knee jerk reaction to sneer and tear through the club and throw hands. But Dick is a consummate professional. That aside, Jason can handle himself. He’s also a consummate professional; difficult as Jason can be he’s frighteningly capable and not above playing a long game).
It’s somehow worse when Jason checks on their table. Because these mobsters aren’t complete idiots, they’ve noticed that Dick has been bewitched by the busty bunny boy working the floor. They try to call Jason over as often as possible, which ends up being good because the group gets more raucous and chatty the more they drink, more prone to letting things slip even with Jason’s presence–tips and incentive tucked into Jason’s uniform, to the bowtie collar around his neck.
It’s a wicked sort of power play, but the mob boss calls Jason to straddle his lap. Jason, to his credit, has regrouped despite not getting a break that night. He plays the blushing maiden because that’s what’s become of his plan, but he still saunters closer to the mob boss, straddling him sensual and slow. With how Jason arches his back to be that much more appealing, it gives Dick quite the view, his attention unwittingly dropping to that fluffy white tail, to the curve of Jason’s ass and–nope. No. Nope. Dick lifts his gaze. Sees the mob boss lean in close and whisper something in Jason’s ear that has Jason blushing pretty, hands trailing back to grab Jason’s ass, kneading the muscle there, his rough hold dimpling Jason’s skin and spreading him–
Dick’s glass shatters in his hand.
It startles him. It startles the table. Even Jason looks surprised when he turns to look over his shoulder.
“A little jealous, boy?”
The mob boss laughs loudly and Dick has to laugh along. The boss tells Jason to serve Dick well because he’s a good kid and Jason’s smile is–it’s sweet enough when Jason looks at the mob boss, but the moment he turns on Dick it’s all bite and a thinly disguised promise of violence.
All in all, it’s a messy night.
Dick is able to safely disengage from his little social engagement with the mob. It ends with a firm handshake and a card slipped to him when the boss nods to one of his underlings. An invitation to—somewhere. They’ll look into it later. For the moment though, Dick lets himself be led away by the hand by Jason, taller than ever in the uniform’s stilettos, an alluring sway to his hips that has Dick staring in appreciation until Jason squeezes his hand in a vice grip, which ow. Well deserved, but still.
Some of the other bunny girls and boys look after them as Jason pushes their way through to the back of the building. Jason stops for all of a few seconds to throw a towel at Dick and to pull some slouchy sweats over his uniform. For modesty, but honestly? It’s still kind of lewd with how low they sit on Jason’s hips and with the high cut of the leg of the bunny uniform. Dick’s not looking though, of course. He’s just being gentlemanly by offering the jacket of his suit to Jason so that Jason can throw it over his shoulders; just mindfully minding his own business as Dick looks to the ceiling, bouncing on the balls of his feet until Jason scoffs at him and drags him outside, kicks over some empty crates, and sits them both down to pick shards of glass none-too-gently from Dick’s palm.
He took the jacket though, which is—
Dick bites back a smile. He’s under no illusion that Jason is going to rake him over the coals for his interference, but he must not be too mad.
“What the hell was that?” Jason grunts, taking the bloody towel from Dick’s hand to lay across his lap. Dick lurches a bit at how forcibly Jason tugs him in by the wrist. Smartly bites his tongue when the bunny ears Jason forgot to take off smack Dick in the eye and face with how Jason stoops over to get a good look at the damage Dick unintentionally did.
“Honestly couldn’t tell you.” Dick admits around a weak laugh. He’s sure he could if he tried, but a part of him is still processing that it wasn’t all protective instinct that got him to lose his head. Dick was distracted by Jason all night–jealous from the moment he saw Jason and realized others were seeing him, too. Appreciating him. Objectifying him. Touching him.
Jason and he aren’t on bad terms with each other, but Dick wouldn’t say they’re particularly close. Their rapport is mostly limited to patrols–timid banter and the occasional call for support. Rebuilding a relationship with Jason has been painstaking to say the least. Always one step forward and about twelve back. Dick has been determined though. Patient because Jason spooks so easy and because Dick is willing to wait if it means being better to Jason this time around. Someone reliable, someone close; someone on his side.
Some ill-timed attraction is not something Dick needs in the equation.
“Honestly, you’re lying.” Jason quips back. There are light tugs to the skin of his palm as Jason makes quick work of pulling all the glass out. It doesn’t hurt too bad, but it’s painful enough to keep Dick focused; keeps his eyes from straying to Jason’s exposed hips. “You just don’t want to say.”
“Nope.” Dick agrees, because whatever he’s feeling towards Jason is not something Dick needs aired to the world. To Jason, least of all. Problem is, Jason is a smart man with a brilliant mind. He’s quick when it comes to subtle tells and Dick has been broadcasting all of his all fucking night long in garrish bright neon.
Jason hums, a soft and considering noise before he peeks up at Dick. Blue, blue eyes beneath a dark fan of lashes. A wicked little smirk on full lips and– “Is it that bad you got a little hot and bothered over your little wing?” –well, damn. He’s being teased. Jason looks so pleased about it all, too.
Dick groans. While he knew in his heart that Jason had already figured it out, it’s a whole other thing for the man himself to call him out so brazenly. Usually Dick would be able to just brush a little attraction off; he’d be able to turn the tables and flirt back to change the dynamic, but this is Jason. Dick is trying to have a relationship with him, not get into his pants. He’s only so strong of a man though and those pecs screwed him over before Dick ever had a chance.
The moment the chirping in his ear starts, Dick pointedly turns off his comm. Dick already can’t keep up with his own thoughts; he doesn’t need Tim being a witty little twerp and flustering him further. Dick has his hands full enough with Jason–so smug and emboldened and chuffed. It’s kind of a good look on him though. It makes him look young; makes him look his age.
“You’re a bit of a menace.” Dick laughs quietly, fond when Jason cackles softly under his breath. Dick might adore this about him though. The way Jason’s confidence seems to have shot up is wild, but cute.
“I think you mean, ‘a little bit attractive.’” Jason quips back, mirthful light in his eyes. “And you’re a bit of a degenerate.”
“Hah, more than a bit.” Dick says, reaching out with his good hand to adjust his suit jacket that rests over Jason’s shoulders. When his fingers accidentally brush over bare skin, Jason shudders. Looks up from Dick’s hand to meet Dick’s eyes before looking away again.
“You’re more than a little degenerate?” Jason taunts, but it’s weak. Just a deflection because he maybe doesn’t know what to make of the alternative. Dick doesn’t push. He lets Jason finish cleaning up his hand, a quick first-aid treatment to tide Dick over until Dick gets back home or to the cave.
It’s when Jason is tying off a makeshift bandage around Dick’s hand that he finally speaks again, settled from whatever playful mood he had been in. More serious as he complains, “I had it handled.”
“I know.” Dick tells him. He knows firsthand how frighteningly competent Jason has become.
“Then why are you here?” Jason asks, lips pursed as he narrows his eyes at Dick.
Dick pulls his hand away, letting it settle over his lap. He takes in the careful wrapping, the tight knot to hold it all in place. When Dick meets Jason’s eye, he tells him honestly, “There’s a lot happening here.” It’s an objective fact. Since Jason relented to Bruce’s order and started playing nice, it’s been harder to keep all the Alley crime as ordered. Jason lost a lot in terms of reputation. His reputation had gotten him far–it made waves. Now Jason is stuck with damage control and staying on top of everything; pulling punches and staying clean and–Dick is glad that Jason has calmed down, isn’t so volatile, but there’s more pressure now. It’s more dangerous. Jason can handle himself, but there are fools out there that think Jason’s restraint means he’s gone soft–they’re gunning for him. It worries him. Last time Dick took eyes off of Jason–
Dick shrugs one of his shoulders and smiles weakly, “Didn’t want you stretching yourself too thin. I wanted to make sure someone had your back with this.”
The sneer Jason levels him with is all show and no substance. There’s no heat or malice behind it, just a front to try and take away from how Dick took Jason off guard and that Jason didn’t hate what he heard. Jason scoffs, “Sweet sentiment, but I’m fine. Unlike someone,” Jason stresses, glowering at Dick pointedly, “I know when enough is enough.”
Jason’s cheeks are dusted pink, flustered. No one’s there to see it but Dick. It makes his lips quirk up at their corners, quietly pleased.
“You fucked up my plans, by the way. I’m pissed.” Jason says, none too pleased with Dick getting comfortable after interfering like he did.
Dick still smiles. “Yeah, my bad. I got good intel for you though.” Their knees bump. It might have been Dick that did it or it was Jason, but it happens again in reverse. And again. Light touches, gentle and tentative. “We can review it after–” Dick grimaces, but gestures vaguely to the club.
Jason looks amused, but doesn’t comment. Just lets Dick work through his petty jealousy and resentment until Dick gives up on it entirely and instead asks, “You’ve got a place nearby?”
The moment Dick says it, he knows he’s done himself in. That playful light returns to Jason’s eyes and he quips, “Wow, coming on strong there, big bird. Are you that eager?” The teasing is made worse by Jason bolstering his pecs up, squishing them together until it’s all pec and cleavage and Dick has to look away, embarrassed. Jason cackles and with some amount of fondness says, “Degenerate.”
“Is this going to be a thing?” Dick asks, not nearly as put out as he should be. It’s so clear that Jason is power tripping over how Dick is attracted to him–bewitched by pecs and ass and a lewd show of leg.
“Goldie has a crush on me.” Jason tells him, proud as he stands from the crate and looks haughtily down at him. There’s something appealing to how Jason smiles at him, wicked and wild and wonderful. “Like hell I’m letting that go.”
Is it a crush? Dick wonders to himself as Jason saunters back to get back to work. That fluffy tail pokes out from over the top of his slouchy sweats. When Jason stops and looks back at him, Dick looks back up–sees Jason smirking before he tilts his hips and makes the tail twitch. It startles a laugh out of him that Dick has to cover his mouth to muffle. Though Jason surely doesn’t intend for him to see it, that pretty blush from before comes back–the ghost of a smile on his lips so sweet that it leaves Dick feeling disarmed. Yeah, Dick thinks to himself. Yeah, maybe he does have a bit of a crush. Maybe there doesn’t have to be anything wrong with that.