Alright… been a while since I’ve done one of these here. But this was too fun.
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Bruce feels the tension in the room ratchet up higher and higher the more he talks. He knows it’s awkward for everyone but…
“I know this is… a very awkward, personal thing to ask,” he says, voice steady and much more confident than he feels. “And I know that it’s not your problem but… I’m desperate. Jason won’t listen to me. He respects all of you, trusts you in a way he’ll never trust me… maybe he’ll see reason if it comes from you.”
Unsurprisingly, Clark looks supremely uncomfortable and Jordan looks smug as ever with a big grin stretching ear to ear and promising nothing good. But Bruce is a little surprised to see Diana shift uneasily in her seat. Arthur clears his throat and Bruce can hear Barry’s foot tapping inhumanly fast under the table.
They’re all unusually quiet.
“Like I said, I know it’s asking a lot. Maybe it will still work if I do the talking and you just sit there supportively.”
Clark goes pale, Barry’s eyes go wide and dart to Jordan who’s choking.
“He’s here now,” the Green Lantern asks, suddenly looking much less self-assured.
“Waiting outside,” Bruce answers, narrowing his eyes at his fellow Leaguers. He expected reactions from them all but… not the ones he’s getting.
Still, Jason won’t listen to him but the younger man speaks very highly of the others, especially Diana. It’s Bruce’s last chance.
There’s a flurry of motion behind him as he turns to get the door, and Diana says “Bruce, wait. Perhaps—” then the door slides open.
Bruce motions a confused but amused Jason into the Watchtower’s conference room. When he turns to follow his son in, everyone is on their feet looking sheepish. Everyone except Barry who seems to be trying to burrow into his seat and disappear.
“What’s going on, B?” Jason asks after smirking at everyone, looking for all the world like a cat who’s just cornered a mouse.
Ignoring that, Bruce soldiers on; a man on a mission. And no one does missions like Batman.
“We’re concerned about your… relationships with certain dangerous individuals,” Bruce starts. He tries not to read too much into the way Jason’s face lights up like a Christmas tree or the sharp, edge that creeps into the boy’s smile. “You’re most recent… transaction—" and it’s all Bruce can do to keep from vomiting on the words, “—with Luthor is cause for extreme alarm.”
Behind Bruce, Clark inhales sharply and Bruce turns just in time to catch the flicker of… jealousy? the flits across Superman’s face before the big blue boy scout says, “You slept with Lex?” in a tone much darker than Bruce has ever heard from him before.
“Maybe,” Jason answers, gaze locking onto Clark like a laser. “Someone wouldn’t help me find the Kryptonite I needed to save my friend. Had to explore… alternative options.” Jason’s eyes glint mischievously and Bruce can see the points of his teeth. “Does that break the terms of our understanding?”
Bruce blinks, his own attention snapping to Clark. But the other man is glaring at Jason with a look Bruce has only ever seen when he’s affected by Red K.
Jason steps forward and rests the heels of his hands on the table, leaning in, smile wide and wicked. “Whoops,” he says way too playfully for Bruce’s comfort. “Guess you’ll have to punish me then.”
Bruce’s brain blanks and he’s only vaguely aware of Jordan’s loud, jealous cough and Jason laughing. He barely hears Diana chime in and Jason comment about “the last time with the lasso.“
“What,” he asks, voice cracking in barely contained rage and betrayal, “the hell is going on?“
Everyone has the decency to abruptly look frightened again. Everyone but Jason—who looks smug—and Diana—who looks unconcerned.
“Are-are you all fucking my son?” he snarls, low and threatening.
“Not all of us,” Barry mutters from the shelter of his chair, then blushes and tries to disappear again.
Bruce can’t tell if Allen is feeling left out or rejected but he’s about to start pummeling people anyway.
“Aw, don’t worry Flash. I’m sure we can work something out,” Jason says with a wink.
The sound that comes out of Bruce isn’t anything human, nothing approaching language. It’s pure, animalistic rage.
Jason turns back to him, leaning his hips against the table and crossing his arms. A broad, self-satisfied smile splits his face.
“Told you it wasn’t just villains, B.”