it wouldn’t leave my head so this is the gala
"Oh, dear god." Damian mumbled over by the hors d'oeuvres, catching sight of his older brother appearing in the doorway of the massive hall, adjusting his cufflinks as he politely greeted Mrs Whitney with a charming smile and kiss on the cheek. He looked slightly out of place to Damian, his massive frame adorned in the most expensive suit that crime lord money could buy. Probably due to the fact that he'd gotten used to only seeing Jason wearing tactical gear or the biggest oversized casual wear he could find-, even in the league, showing up to emergency drills wearing a baggy tank top and sweats and flipping Ra's off when he dared to glare at him for 'unprofessionalism'.
Next to him, Tim glanced over from where he was stuffing his mouth with cubes of cheese and little pieces of salami. "Hmm?" He chewed, swallowing as his eyes flicked over, following in the direction Damian was staring at and catching his gaze on the civilian Red Hood. He went still. "You gotta be fucking kidding me."
"I fear we shall not be able to 'lay low' this evening, as you had hoped." Damian grumbled, sipping from a crystal flute of sparkling water before handing it to Tim to finish.
"Why," Tim whined, gesturing to where Jason was chatting amicably with a group of adults, probably about his 'exciting out of town adventures'. "Why would he do this? Dick's gonna end up having a panic attack in the middle of a charity ball."
"Why does Todd do anything?" Damian replied dryly, giving Tim a side-eye. "To emotionally damage father and aggravate us."
They could only be grateful that for now at least, Bruce and Dick were both on the other end of the gala, chatting up potential investors for WE and talking about whatever mind-numbing topics were interesting to those sorts of people. Hopefully, they'd stay that way, especially as Jason caught sight of Damian and Tim and grinned, excusing himself to make his way over to them.
"Gentlemen," He crooned, taking a skewered olive from Tim's paper plate and popping it in his mouth. "Fine evening we have here, don't we?" He nodded at Tim, "Nice to see you again Mr Drake, after so long."
"We ran into each other on patrol two days ago." Tim said dryly. "And I said hi to you when Damian video called you this morning."
"Why did you not alert me that you would be coming?" Damian demanded, head on a swivel for Dick or Bruce. Jason shrugged, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing tray nearby.
"Didn't think it was relevant."
"It's very much relevant!" He snapped. "If I had known then I would have snapped my own knee cap so I could get out of being here! How did you even get an invite?"
"Honestly, no fucking clue." Jason said. "We might have to think about recruiting old Mrs Randolph as a bat, because clearly she's more skilled at tracking people down than Oracle."
"What even is your plan?" Tim asked indignantly. "Freak out B and make Dick cry in public? Then what?"
"I mostly came here for the free food and alcohol." Jason revealed, cracking his neck and turning to stand next to them, rather in front. They stood in a line next to the buffet, regarding the room in front of them casually. "I'm kind of winging this whole thing."
Damian scoffed, clasping his hands behind his back neatly. "Coward." It was true, and they both knew it. Starting a truce with the other bats, having everybody else in Gotham know that he was alive, settling in to a mostly-calm life in Crime Alley, and still refusing to reveal his existence to the rest of the family, only to randomly show up in a public place where he knew for a fact Bruce would have to try and keep up the Brucie Wayne act no matter what revelations Jason threw at him; it was a clear act of cowardice. Taking the easy route out so that he could avoid having to deal with any kind of emotion, anger or otherwise.
Jason casually lifted one of his legs up, kicking Damian in the shin. Damian buckled, grimacing, before both of them quickly straightened to smile and nod at a pair of passing women.
"You aren't even old enough to drink," Tim pointed out when they'd left.
"Yeah, but I'm tall and confident so people don't question me." To prove his point, Jason snagged another champagne flute, lifting it to cheers in Tim's direction. "Want one?"
"You are a horrible influence." Damian intoned. Tim looked over at Jason, conflicted.
"You weren't complaining when I let you try some of my wine at the league," Jason responded. "Well, Replacement?"
At that moment, one of Bruce's associates passed by, and he stopped to grin at the trio. "Ah, Timothy! There you are, we've been looking for you. I'll tell Bruce you're over here." He nodded at Jason, smiling. "And it's good to see you again, kid."
Jason grinned widely. "Happy to be here!"
The second he walked off Tim turned to snatch both glasses from him, downing both smoothly. Jason raised an eyebrow judgementally, while Damian stared at the floor, sighing loudly at his brothers' idiocy.
"Go get me another." Tim demanded.
"Don't you dare get drunk," Damian warned, after Jason had faithfully retrieved another glass of champagne and then disappeared into another circle of old rich people that wanted to remark on how much he'd grown since his 'unfortunate leaving'. "If you leave me to deal with this alone, I will cut your wire again, and this time you shall not survive the fall."
"I'm not gonna get drunk," Tim said, unimpressed. "I'm just sipping this one, promise."
He grumbled, but left it alone as Dick emerged from somewhere behind them, warmly clapping a hand on Damian's shoulder. "Hey Dami, how are you guys holding up?"
"Fucking fantastic," Tim mumbled into his flute. Dick grinned wryly.
"Yeah, it's not the best way to spend an evening. These things are only ever fun when we get to sneak away and dare each other to do dumb stuff."
"Like when Jason dared you to do a quadruple somersault off the chandelier at that hospital fundraiser event," Tim recalled, a small half-smile appearing on the edges of his lips. Dick nodded, looking at the ground as a melancholic expression flitted into his usual eager brightness.
"Yeah... Jason was always a menace at these things." He rubbed at Damian's shoulders, thinking back nostalgically, and it was only the slight sympathy Damian refused to admit he felt for the man that stopped him from slapping the arm off him. "He was always so good at acting the part for the other guests, but the second he was left alone at any event he became an instigator of chaos."
"Nothings changed then," Damian murmured under his breath. Dick's head twitched in his direction.
"Hm?" Damian didn't respond, so he nodded at Tim instead. "What's in the glass, s'that lemonade?"
"Sparkling water," Tim lied smoothly. Damian snorted.
"Ah, Brucie my old friend, it's a pleasure to see you!" A few feet away, Bruce made his way through the throngs of people only to get distracted just before making it to his sons, one of his old university friends calling out to him. He switched on his most charming smile, happily shaking the man's hand. "I was just talking to your son about how well Wayne Enterprises has been flourishing lately; all the habitation investments you've been making for the city."
"Oh! Yes, well," Bruce looked over to the three, clearly eyeing up Tim and Dick to figure out which son in question was meant. Dick shrugged his shoulders, and Tim lifted his champagne glass to his lips. Subtly, Damian reached over and gripped the stem of the glass, the two wrestling over whether or not Tim got to drown his impending sorrows with alcohol. "Anything we can do to help, of course."
"Of course!" Marcus said. "It's so sweet of you to put so much focus on helping improving Park Row; I'm sure it means a lot to him, given his connections to the area."
Tim and Damian stilled in their silent battle, exchanging looks as Bruce tilted his head slightly in confusion. Damian was aware that Tim had been using his influence on the company to send more funds over to Jason's territory, both in an attempt to smooth over any initial bad introductions and as an excuse to talk to 'his Robin' more often, but if it ended up being the reason that Jason's resurrection was revealed, Damian swore that he would stab Tim in his sleep.
Not wanting to seem completely clueless, Bruce nodded along, smoothing his features out again. "Of course, you know that what's important to my sons is important to me."
"Ah!" Spotting something over Bruce's shoulder, Marcus raised a hand, beckoning to somebody. "There you are! We're just discussing Park Row!"
Eyes quickly scanning and counting the three sons already within his line of eyesight, Bruce furrowed his brows, turning around to follow his friend's gaze.
"Oh. Yeah. Hey dad." Holding a paper plate filled with tiny crab cakes, cheese and meat skewers, and a mound of little flavoured crackers, Jason Peter Todd stood in all his glory. He popped a cube of cheddar into his mouth, calmly chewing. "The Alley's really been improving, hasn't it?"
Bruce stood, frozen, his face seeming to glitch slightly.
"It really has," Oblivious, Marcus moved over to clap Jason on the back warmly. "You know I had to pass through there for work about a week ago and I saw the new hospital being built. Me and Jason were just talking with the Walters about the potential of a new animal shelter being put up, too."
"...Holy fucking shit," Dick mumbled, ghostly. His hand dropped from Damian's shoulder. Taking advantage of the prey-like freezing reflexes Tim was portraying, Damian decided to tug the champagne out of his hands, and, in a quick moment of pure, unadulterated hatred for the moment he was forced to be a part of, he decided to slug the entire glass back.
He choked slightly on the taste, face scrunching up, and as he smoothed out his expression and allowed the warmth in his chest to settle he refocused to see Tim sending him a death glare.
"J-Jason..." Bruce tried to get out, faintly.
"Yeah, sorry I haven't been around town much," Jason remarked offhandedly. "Just been so busy with redecorating my apartment."
Damian withheld an eye roll, having gotten tired of hearing about Jason's interior design prospects on an almost daily bases for the past month. There was no way that picking out bathroom tiles was that difficult.
"Right! Mrs Whitney was telling me earlier about you redoing your kitchen; marble counters, right?" Marcus laughed along with Jason, and Bruce squeaked.
"You- uh, right. The uh- your new apartment." He swallowed obviously. "And h-how is that going?"
Damian had never seen Bruce stutter before in his life. Granted he hadn't been around that long, but he was fairly sure that neither Tim nor Dick had seen the sight either, going by their horrified body postures.
"It's going great! Timmers over here has been a real help, sending over recommendations for the appliances." Jason nodded in Tim's direction, who somehow managed to go even more still. Damian took a step away from the boy as both Dick and Bruce's heads snapped over to him in a move that even he wasn't too proud to admit was based on nothing but cowardice. Dick's eyes were full of tears which he was rapidly trying to hold at bay, and Bruce looked slightly constipated, as if he wasn't sure what the situation even was, let alone how to handle it.
"Tim?" He asked, voice strangled. Tim's mouth dropped open, flapping wildly.
"Uh- I-" He swallowed, before jabbing a finger at Damian abruptly. "Damian drank a glass of champagne-!"
Scowling indignantly, Damian's eyes widened. "Are you kiddi-" He pointed right back at the traitor, glaring over at Bruce. "Drake drank two!"
"Yeah, well-" Sputtering, Tim's eyes darted around frantically. He whirled around to point at Jason, who was crunching on a cracker in obvious amusement, "Jason's been drinking all night and he's underage still!"
And once again the focus was on Jason. Marcus looked confused, caught off guard and clearly feeling out of his depth. Jason's eyes gleamed, and in one smooth motion he leaned over and took another glass from a nearby waiter.
"Yup." He declared calmly, taking a sip. "And I ain't fuckin' stopping, either. You alright there, dad?"
Bruce just looked lost. "I don't..." He looked over at the others. "Am I the only one that can see him?"
"Bruce...?" Marcus started questioningly. Jason placed a placating hand on his arm.
"He's been drinking," He soothed. Marcus 'ah'ed in understanding, grin pulling at his face.
"Course he has, good ol' Brucie. Well, I'll leave you guys to it. Lovely to see you all!"
They were left in a corner of the gala, silent. Jason sipped from his champagne glass, and Tim looked at the empty one in Damian's hand in mourning. Dick finally started crying.
"Well the food is wonderful." Jason declared dramatically. At this point it wasn't even clear if the theatrics were out of genuine amusement or awkward regret at the family drama he'd now have to navigate.Â
"I hate you." Damian said emptily, watching warily out of the corner of his eye as Bruce's chest started to rise faster and faster.
"That's just the alcohol talking."