Chapter Text
The alcohol felt like it was burning its way through Dick’s blood, causing his skin to flush and the world to take on a dream-like haze. The pit of his stomach boiled and sweat burst across his brow. He was overwhelmed. The bed’s sheets, with their ostentatiously high thread count, buffed every inch of exposed skin and he felt like he was being dragged by a current, making him swim against the surface. Grayson was chasing something. Part of him was also vaguely aware that a friction mark was spreading over one cheek. He lifted his head to find relief and was rewarded with a pleasant dizziness that radiated straight to his groin.
“C’mere you.”
Grayson felt the whispered command on the back of his neck and he struggled to move closer to the warm air. Wide arms crossed his chest, he was lifted to his knees and his chest was held at a strange angle to the rest of him, neither up nor down. The pace of his hips quickened.
“Please,” he begged.
In response, his body’s weight was shifted, held by one wide arm while a hand traced his body and muscle downward. Grayson gasped and tensed as he thrusted to meet the lazy hand. At just the right angle he could almos-
There were four solid raps against wood.
Dick paused, trying to figure out the unexpected sound.
“Grayson, I swear to god-” This was probably meant to be an icy threat, but felt more of a murmured prayer across his burned cheek.
“Sir? Richard?” A voice called and there were four more wooden knocks.
Awareness came back to Dick as if a spell had been broken. “Alfred,” he unnecessarily explained to the man behind him.
There was an exasperated breath behind him and he was released. Quickly, Grayson felt around the bed and found a heavy robe. Dick hopped from the bed and made his way quickly to his bedroom door. He wrapped the robe around his body and ensured it was held completely closed with one hand as the other turned the knob.
“Yes?” Dick poked his head out, closing the door as tightly around him as possible.
The elderly butler stared over his head rather than looking at his face and he neither displayed nor spoke with any emotion whatsoever. “Forgive me, sir. You are needed downstairs.”
“Downstairs?” Grayson’s pulse was still in the process of slowing and he could hear his own heart far more clearly than the Wayne family butler.
“Yes, sir. Downstairs.” Alfred nodded solemnly. “The others are waiting.”
“Is, uh, is it a costume party?”
“Given that the company is not mixed and the lateness of the hour, the dress code is quite relaxed.”
“Oh. Okay. Okay, yeah, just give me a few minutes.”
Alfred nodded. “If I might impose, sir, I have not yet located Jason.”
“I’ll handle it,” Dick nodded far too quickly.
“Thank you sir, I shall let the others know you’re on your way.” Alfred stepped farther away from the door and spared a sad, apologetic look before turning back down the hall.
Dick pulled himself back into the bedroom and shut the heavy oak door behind him. “Lights,” he warned a half second before flipping the switch and flooding the room, briefly blinding himself and his companion. “We need to get downstairs.”
“I heard.” Jason sighed ruefully, peeling off and discarding the empty condom into Dick’s bedside wastebasket.
Dick felt his whole body flush with delayed embarrassment. “Shit! I’ll never live that down.”
“That can’t be the first time Alfred has found you with someone in your room.” Jason found a pair of sweatpants among the articles on the floor and pulled them on.
“Actually it is.” Dick flopped back on the bed and hid his face with a pillow. “Bruce, no, but Alfred, yes.”
“Oh?!” Jason flopped back on the bed as well, staring at the ceiling.
“Let’s just say there are some very awkward reasons that Robin doesn’t sleep across the hall from Batman any more. You’re welcome.” Grayson grabbed and fumbled quickly and indelicately with some wet wipes.
“Good man!” Jason laughed. “Who was it?”
Dick discarded the wet wipes, searched the floor, and found a pair of boxer briefs. He slid them on and tightly re-tied the belt of the oversized red robe. “You will never know.”
That evasion made Jason laugh harder.
Dick caught his reflection in his nightstand mirror and futilely combed through his hair with his hands. Luckily the burn on his cheek could be attributed to any night at the office. He bent to pop open the window closest to his bed, earning a look from Todd.
Grayson shrugged. “I like airflow when I’m sleeping.”
“Hey,” Jason sounded half-asleep and nodded up at the ceiling. “Remember that blonde fashion designer you had that thing with in NYC?”
“Yeah.” A slight smile quirked Grayson’s lips at her memory. “She, uh, she told me I had incredible stamina.”
“Oh? She told me the same thing. Here I thought I was special.”
Dick frowned and Jason snickered. Grayson didn’t doubt him. “That’s messed up man. Sometimes I forget just how messed up you are.”
Jason hopped to his bare feet and motioned towards the door. “She was right though. You wanna check the halls before I follow?”
“Get out.” Grayson ordered. For once Jason obeyed and Dick locked the door behind them both.
The cold air in the mansion’s corridor was sobering, literally and metaphorically. When he first moved to the manor, just after his parents’ deaths, it took Dick months to adjust to the perpetual cold. Since moving to Bludhaven full-time, Grayson blissfully forgot about the bone chill as he pumped up his ratty apartment’s thermostat.
“Geez, you’d think that a billionaire would spring for some decent heating.” Dick muttered, tightening the robe’s belt again.
Jason shot him a quizzical look. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Dick swore he could feel the hallway’s draft whipping through him and drawing out the alcohol induced boil in his blood. Subconsciously he moved closer to Jason in an attempt to share heat. The younger man seemed to radiate heat as if he were plugged into a warmer.
Jay opened the secret stairway to the Batcave and began descending the stairs. “I personally don’t mind you literally breathing down my neck, but the others might not be so ok with it.”
“Right.”
Dick waited until Jason was a few steps down before descending. He wound up bumping into Jason anyway when the younger man stopped suddenly halfway down the stairs. “Hey!”
“Glad you could join us.” Tim impatiently called up the stairs.
Following the direction of Tim’s voice, Grayson saw what made Jason stop short on the stairs. Clark Kent and Oliver Queen were sitting at the cave’s conference table with Tim and Damian. Queen looked decidedly grim and Clark stared at his folded hands on the table.
Oh that’s never a good thing. Jason and Dick shared the same expression.
Dick decided that his internal clock must have been way off because neither man would be in Gotham, much less in the cave, at the time Dick presumed it would be. Unless it were life or death. Death mostly. Bruce’s absence at the table was suddenly conspicuous.
Grayson shoved Todd back into moving down the steps and gracelessly flopped into a chair at the long, boardroom style table. He wedged himself between Damian and Tim, directly opposite of Clark and Oliver. Alfred had already served the table coffee in the fancy china cups, one of which must have looked comically small in Clark’s hands.
“Excuse me, sir.” Alfred was standing at his elbow.
Grayson slid over enough for the butler to leave a liter sized thermos of coffee next to his arm and then did the same for Jason.
“Late night?” Oliver eyed the coffee with some amusement.
“Something like that.” Dick hoped he was convincing as he folded his hands patiently and pretended that everyone at the table wasn’t slightly blurred in the cave’s dim light. “Alfred, is Bruce on his way?”
Damian groaned and stared at Dick as if he had horns growing out of his head. Tim tried to fix him with an angry gaze, but the expression quickly turned to devastation.
“Alright then.” Dick felt thoroughly smirched and reached for the thermos, dread growing in the pit of his stomach. Not him. Not tonight. “I guess I’m the last to the party. Proceed.”
“Very well.” Alfred stepped to the head of the table. “Here are the facts. About 1630 this afternoon a large envelope was delivered to Mr. Wayne. Mr. Wayne was, of course, in court this afternoon.”
“Congratulations, Dick.” Clark interrupted with a timid tone, not looking at Grayson. “He talked about this adoption practically nonstop for weeks. I’ll never understand why he waited so long.”
Dick smiled grimly at the table, wishing they would all just get to the point. He’s dead isn’t he? Why won’t you just say it.
“Indeed!” Alfred agreed. “Mr. Wayne returned home at approximately 1800. He ate dinner with the family and at approximately 2000, Batman departed the Batcave, in the Batwing, and flew to this location.” As Alfred spoke the wall monitor came to life with a picture of Gotham’s sky and coordinates displayed at the bottom of the picture. At this point, the Batwing disappeared and all tracking systems, both in the plane and in Batman’s suit, ceased functioning.”
Grayson stole a look at Tim’s smart watch while swallowing a sip of coffee that was too hot. “Alfred. That was almost five hours ago.” Dick didn’t have to voice the implication that he should’ve been notified immediately.
Alfred dipped his head apologetically. “We still needed to complete preliminary investigations and wait for Mr. Queen’s arrival.” Alfred met him with an expression that seemed to insinuate ‘Besides, you were halfway through the Master’s good bourbon.’
Jason made a frustrated noise in his throat and stood from the table, producing a pack of cigarettes from a pocket in his sweatpants. He crossed the ‘room’ and leaned against a safety railing at the edge of this level. Natural air flow in the cave would pull any smoke up and away from the group at the table. Dick should’ve reprimanded Jason, but found himself wanting to share in the ritual.
Jason tucked a cigarette between his lips and fumbled for his lighter. “Any wreckage?”
Tim shook his head. “Not a micron. He was there and then he wasn’t.”
Todd finally managed to light his cancer stick and exhaled a dark cloud as he spoke. “That sounds like some alien tech bullshit.” Jason ran his tongue across his lips, adjusting the cigarette in his mouth.
“What was the envelope?” Grayson frowned at the clear sky depicted in the picture on the monitor.
“Photographs, sir.” Alfred gestured towards the monitor screen. The monitor changed, bringing up color pictures. Each one had a time, date, and number out of 7 on the bottom.
The shirtless and scarred Jason Todd strode over to the monitor to scroll through the photos, smoke trailing behind him.
Picture 1 out of 7 was of Nightwing and Red Hood in some Gotham back alley. Both vigilantes appeared to be snarling at each other and their weapons clashed. This was no brotherly disagreement, both men appeared to be out for blood. Picture 2 of 7 wasn’t in the set, but picture 3 of 7 showed Dick and Jason in relaxed conversation as Dick hung off of a street light like a cartoon character. Next there was a picture of Red Robin tucked in next to a rooftop gargoyle, immediately followed by a picture of Tim coming out of a shop, multiple bags of groceries hanging off of his arms. In the final set of photos, the first showed Robin sitting on the hood of the Batmobile and the next was of Damian, in his school uniform, glumly walking either to or from school.
There was a collective gasp around the table.
“Goddammit!” Grayson’s hand went instinctively to the back of his head. His skull fracture was healed, but the memory of his rooftop beat down and of the factory explosion that next night brought the pain back. The same person behind those attacks was clearly sending a message to Bruce. Bruce had chosen to handle it himself rather than involve any of his boys.
“Was there anything else in the envelope, Alfred?” Oliver frowned at the pictures on the monitor. “Any instructions or coordinates?”
Alfred shook his head. “Nothing. Master Wayne must have taken anything identifiable with him.”
“And the second picture?” Clark frowned at the screen as if trying to see through it.
The sudden realization of what the second picture must have shown was like another crack to Grayson’s skull.
“He shredded it!” All four of the Robins answered at once, with varying shades of horror.
Clark eyed each of the boys individually, but chose not to pursue the question again. “And that’s everything?”
“Yes.” Alfred nodded. “Red Robin ran satellite and infrared surveillance, but could not find anything in that location or the surrounding area.”
“I see.” Clark and Oliver shared a meaningful glance before Clark folded his hands diplomatically. “The league is, of course, willing to assist with any investigation, but, for the moment, we are also willing to let Batman’s disappearance remain a…family matter.”
Dick nodded gratefully, but, out of the corners of his eyes, he was watching Jason again. Jay had his back turned to the group, but his torso was colored a deep red and his breathing appeared ragged. I’m begging you. Keep it together this time. I don’t know if I can go through that again.
Oliver cleared his throat quietly, regaining Dick’s full attention. “You understand the league does have a vested interest in ensuring that the events that happened the last time Batman disappeared are not repeated. We are prepared to step in, if necessary.”
Grayson nodded again. “There won’t be a battle for the cowl this time.” He spoke not only to assuage Queen and Kent, but also pointedly to his brothers. He stood, turned, and considered the monitor for a long time. Bruce - now his legal father - gone again. Having to wear that damn, heavy cowl again. Not again. I won’t. When he spoke again, he felt old and tired.
“Tim is tall enough now. With a little bit of extra body armor, no one would be able to tell him apart from Bruce.” Grayson turned to gauge Drake’s expression. The teen seemed both surprised and angry.
“Don’t cut me out of the investigation.” Tim appeared purposefully and perhaps performatively composed, but sounded as though he was gritting his teeth.
“Of course not,” Grayson assured him. “We’ll need you for the investigation, but we also need Batman. For now, do one or two round ups, in very public places, every night. Make sure you’re seen. Remember, you’re Batman. Blunt and quick and then you’re back home.”
Tim nodded his understanding.
“Damian, you’re his Robin. You know what that means.”
“We could be the real dynamic duo again,” Damian protested sullenly.
“You’re his Robin.” Dick repeated himself, not able to keep the edge completely out of his voice. “Watch. His. Back. Anything happens to him, I’ll blame you.”
Damian frowned, but acquiesced with a nod.
“If they’re Batman and Robin, do I get to be Nightwing?” Jason was standing with his arms crossed, seeming quite amused.
“Nope,” Dick smiled back. “You’re Oracle.” The smirk disappeared from Jason’s face, but Grayson continued. “I want everything, everything about the Batwing and its performance tonight. Every step and heartbeat from Bruce. Every possible hypothesis.”
Jason appeared annoyed, but Dick could see that the gears were already turning in his head.
“M’kay.” Todd finally agreed.
“It’s late.” Grayson took his seat again, but his fellow Robins took his meaning and murmured goodnights to Clark and Oliver before making their ways toward the exit stairs. On his way across the stone floor, Jason stopped for just a moment to lay a hand on Dick’s shoulder and drop the cigarettes and lighter on the table in front of him.
Grayson forced himself to tuck the items into his robe’s pocket lest he light up in front of Superman and Green Arrow.
The men shared another knowing glance.
“Dick, are you okay, son?” Oliver leaned in seriously. “We know that you weren’t feeling very like yourself for a while there.”
Dick flushed, that phantom pain in his skull was back. “I’m back at my best.”
“Of course you are,” Clark nodded. “Always confident. Always cool.”
“And what about them?” Oliver flashed his eyes to the exit.
“I’ve got them,” Dick assured the men. “I’ll keep them close.”
“I’m worried about Jay.” Kent appeared sad. “He’s proven to be unpredictable when Bruce isn’t around. Dick, I really don’t want to have to step in.”
“We have an understanding.” Dick glanced toward the exit and prayed he was right about that for now. “I’m not letting him out of this house at any rate.”
This seemed to satisfy the larger-than-life superheroes across the table.
“Can I offer you guys rooms for the night? It is late.” You know, in case you want to hang out and oversee our every move.
Clark smiled. “I’ll be back in Metropolis in a few minutes. Can I give you a lift, Oliver?”
Queen regarded Grayson for a moment longer before rising from the table. “No, thanks Clark. My pilot is waiting. You will call, of course?”
“Constantly.” Dick smiled, stood, and waited for the two legends to clear the room.
Grayson retrieved his and Jason’s large thermoses and ascended the level to the Batcomputer. Alfred took his customary spot just off Grayson’s right side.
“You should sleep.” Dick spoke as he was bringing up Batman’s files, all possible leads, on his attacker - the person who had figured out their identities. ”The identities of Batman and the Robins are Gotham’s worst kept secret.” Jeremiah had told him. Dick wondered just how true that was.
“You’re also human, are you not?” Alfred asked plainly.
“Next time, call me. I don’t care where I am or what-” or who “-I’m doing. I don’t care what state I’m in.”
Alfred took a steadying breath. “Considering the gravity of the situation, I was worried that Misters Kent and Queen may have…judged you unfairly at seeing you, ah, not at your best. Moreover, I was being selfish,” Alfred admitted, folding his hands behind his back. “It’s been so long since you were back in the house and feeling well. Everyone was so ecstatic about the adoption and the family was happy. I didn’t want to take that from you. I’d wager Master Bruce didn’t either.”
“He should have,” Dick folded his arms and read the scrawling data on the screen. “Instead he took himself away.”
“Perhaps it is time for you to turn in as well,” Alfred suggested carefully.
Dick shook his head glumly. “I won’t sleep. The computer and I can keep each other company.”
“Nightwing will need his wits about him. Especially if he intends some sort of lone vendetta.”
“Nightwing will live, Alfred.”
“See that he does.”