Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You didn't think I would say yes, did you?" Jason asked incredulously. Dick sagged where he sat on the couch in Jason’s safehouse.

"No," he admitted. "You were my last resort."

"Oh, the blood son didn't jump at the chance?" 

"Damian is not dropping out of college for this." Dick said hotly, half getting out of his seat. 

"So you didn't even ask. Why do you care? You dropped out."

"That's different."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Well, what about Replacement?"

"He’s too busy being CEO.” Dick reminded him. Jason snorted, clearly not impressed by the job Tim had been handling since before he could legally drink. 

“You’re just giving him an easy out because him and Bernard are planning their wedding and you want to be flower girl.” 

“Caught me. I’ve got the perfect little dress picked out.” Dick rolled his eyes and sighed. “Look, Steph is busy at work, Cass has responsibilities in Hong Kong-”

“Oh come off it, Dickhead. No one wants to move home and be the Bat Babysitter. You could do it, you just don’t want to. And hey! I get it, I don’t want to. That’s why I’m not going to.” Jason took a long drink of his water bottle, wiped his mouth, and shot his beleaguered sibling a grin. “It’s that easy.”

“Jason, he’s not eating regular meals, I found him at the bottom of a flight of stairs and he refused to tell me how long he’d been laying there. He can’t do this alone any more.” Dick’s voice was strained, and Jason almost wished he cared more. But it was Bruce, and he probably was doing a weird meditation at the bottom of the stairs. Jason would have noticed if things were that bad.

“So find a preteen with black hair. Simple.” Jason snarked, and then narrowed his eyes. “I’m kidding. Geriatric Batman doesn’t need more child soldiers.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Jason, he’s not geriatric, things are just catching up with him. But no, he doesn’t need a Robin - honestly, he should get out of the game altogether at this point. He needs someone to just… keep an eye on him.”

“Barbie could watch some cameras?”

“She’s kind of busy, Jason.”

“Point…. I don’t know Dick, what do other rich people do when their workaholic parents can’t be trusted to take care of themselves?”

Dick sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know. Hire someone? But…” He trailed off and Jason saw the terrible light of a Bad Idea in Dick Grayson’s eyes. “You know what? You’re smarter than you look, Little Wing.” He stood up and made for the window as Jason frowned.

“So you’re going to hire someone? Dick-!” It was too late, Dick was lost to the Gotham night. Jason sighed. “This is going to go wrong somehow.” He predicted out loud. 

-

“...So, my Dad’s not like, old-old, he’s only 55, but he’s had a lot of sports injuries over his life, and I’m worried about him. Plus, my grandfather passed a few years ago, and he was making sure my Dad was eating regular meals up until the day he died. Without him, he’s half surviving on granola bars. It’s just not good for him. And if he falls again, I don’t know if I trust him to actually call for help or get a check up from a real doctor. So, really, all you’d need to do is be there in the evenings, make sure he eats a real dinner, and make sure he’s alright before you leave for the night. You can do homework, listen to music, whatever. He might be grouchy and try to run you off, so I need you to be stubborn and thick-skinned. Do you think you can do that?”

Finally, the flood of words from the middle aged man came to a stop. He offered a cheerful smile, and took a drink of his latte. It had maybe been a solid ten minutes of chatter on his end.

Terry slouched forwards over the black coffee he’d ordered for himself. This was the weirdest job interview he’d ever had. And sure, he hadn’t had many job interviews, but he was pretty sure this was still bizarre.

“I guess.”

“Perfect! Now, if he tries to bribe you, I’m going to need you to stay strong for me.”

“Bribes?” Terry questioned, a little incredulously. “Look, I’m not a saint.”

“I promise you, if he tries to bribe you, I’ll know, and I’ll tack that amount onto your paycheck, promise. No sainthood needed, promise.” The man laughed, and Terry wondered how old he was if his father was 55. His laugh lines said he was no spring chicken, as did the slight amount of salt peppered in his dark hair. There’d been no names offered yet, but this guy was clearly good for his money. His clothes were a decent quality, even if Terry’s eyes watered the first time he’d looked at the extremely loud shirt. 

“...I’ll hold you to that.” This was such a sketchy sounding gig, but it was better than going back to Big Time on the streets. His Mom needed help, but would lose her entire shit if she knew he was getting in trouble with the GCPD again. “So, I’m just cooking a meal a day for your old man, making sure he’s upright, and hanging out at his house after school until 10?” He checked.

“Yep! Same hours on the weekends, and just let me know if you need a day off. I’ll let you know if he’ll be with family or on a business trip and you’ve got a free night with as much notice as I can. Sometimes it’ll be short notice though. We’ve got a big family of oddballs and things can happen without a lot of warning.”

“...Alright. And when do you want me to start?”

“Are you free tonight?” Another bright grin was directed his way, and Terry pulled out his phone. 

“Yeah, let me just tell my mom that I’m going to….? Is this the point where I can get an address and maybe even a name for your dad?” Terry had the family groupchat open and his thumbs posed to type in the relevant information.

“Oh, Wayne Manor. You can call him Bruce, but Mr. Wayne is probably going to feel less weird.” 

“...I’m sorry, what ?”

—

“This is the most outrageous, unethical, disrespectful and downright asinine hostage situation I have ever been in. And that’s saying something. I’ve been stripped to my boxers multiple times on live television. Harley Quinn once kidnapped me for a shopping spree and makeover extravaganza. I’ve been forced to listen to Oliver Queen’s opinions and pretend they were worthwhile. ”

Terry sighed and deleted several keysmashes as he replied to his adversary. “I don’t know who Oliver Queen is. Do you mind, Mr. Wayne? I’m trying to finish this essay tonight so I can go out with Dana later.” 

“Is my unjust imprisonment inconveniencing your adolescent romance? I’m dreadfully sorry. Here, take a couple of hundred dollars and go have a night on the town.” 

Terry scoffed. “In this economy? That’ll buy us batburgers and jokerized fries. Have you spent any time with real people in the past 60 years?” He looked up at the middle-aged man that was clearly grinding his teeth and shoving his handful of bills back in his wallet. Terry’s smirk was probably getting on the man’s nerves, but Terry wasn’t here to make friends. 

“I’m fifty five years old, Terry.” 

“You have like, five kids, and the oldest one is forty.” Terry remembered that the weirdly cheerful guy who’d hired him had promised that if Bruce Wayne tried to bribe him, he’d know and would add that amount to his paycheck. Rich people were wild. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not sixty years old.” 

“Eh.” Terry closed his laptop, because it seemed like he wasn’t going to be getting much work done. “You want me to go get your dinner now, old man?”

“...If you’re working for me, shouldn’t you be more polite?”

Terry snorted. “I’m working for your dick of a son, not you. I’m just here to make sure you eat a decent dinner and don’t fall and hurt yourself.” He pushed himself off the probably antique mahogany dining table that he’d been working on. 

Bruce Wayne stood at the head of the table, scowling in a way that did not match the gleaming smiles Terry had spied on the clickbait that no Gothamite’s social media was immune from. Terry remembered his Mom talking about what an airheaded flirt he was, but these days news stories about him were all about his weight, his gaffes and the antics of the various friends and family in his life. With luck, Terry would only have to interact with Dick Grayson. 

“If you don’t tell me what you want to eat, I’ll just grab a random meal from your freezer and heat it up for you.” Terry threatened blandly, and Bruce Wayne’s ice-blue eyes flashed to him. 

“I can heat up my own meals, Terry. Despite what Dick seems to think, I’m not an invalid.”

“He said to remind you about what happened to your air fryer like… twenty years ago.” Terry said with another smirk as Bruce spluttered. 

Blah blah sixteen years ago, blah blah I’m an old man. Terry tuned it out and went to the kitchen to peruse the premade meals loaded in the fridge, with neat writing labelling each one. Some of them included colourful notes like ‘ the old man’s not even going to eat this ’ or ‘ fucking dick making me cook for that old bastard .’ So this was probably another Wayne making some kind of effort for their father.

Terry would be more touched if it wasn’t so baffling. They could afford to hire a personal chef, and a nurse. Why hire a random teenager?

As he loaded a lasagna into the oven, he made a face as the obvious explanation presented itself in his mind. Bruce Wayne did have a … history of taking in quite a few black-haired, blue-eyed young boys. But if that’s what Dick Grayson was sourcing for him, why pick someone like Terry? He was already sixteen, he had a juvenile record for theft and a reputation for getting into fights… not exactly easy meat if Bruce Wayne was the predator that some of the less savoury Gotham rags had been suggesting he was for more than twice Terry’s lifespan.

Especially if he was a fall risk. All Terry would have to do is trip him. Then he’d rob the place blind before leaving like a bat out of hell.

And if Bruce Wayne was innocent of all of those accusations… then why was Terry their choice? There were a million more qualified options in Gotham alone, with actually relevant skills. Terry could kick a gang member in the nuts and lockpick a door, and was that a skillset that the Wayne family could appreciate? Not likely. And yet they hired him.

Rich people. You were lucky when they didn’t pick a theme and put a mask on. Especially in Gotham. 

“Okay, I started some… lasagna. Shit.” Terry’s voice died off when he returned to the room he’d left Wayne in and saw neither hide nor hair of the older man.

Now, he wasn’t required to keep his eyes directly on the man the whole evening, just make sure that he was home, that he wasn’t hurt, that shit. Bruce Wayne was more than welcome to sulk in any of the twenty-thousand unoccupied rooms in his mansion. 

But he had just been kicking up a fuss about being ‘imprisoned’ and Terry wasn’t sure if he was supposed to like… keep him in the house. “Mr. Wayne?” He called. 

No answer. 

“Uh…” Terry sighed and pulled out his phone.

To: Weird Dick: So, if he does a runner, do I still get paid?

Important questions need to be asked right away. 

In the meantime, Terry investigated the nearby rooms, a timer started on his phone to alert him when the food was done. He doubted billionaires were willing to stomach burnt food. Each room he checked was empty, not even the suggestion of nepotism in the air to suggest that Bruce Wayne had been there.

“Hello…?” Sheesh, for a fall risk he could apparently move fast. 

Terry stalked the halls of Wayne Manor, feeling a little ridiculous. The man wanted to be left alone, and he had homework to do. Hell, he could be chatting with Dana or Max right now. But instead he was trying to find Gotham’s Silver Prince so he could be forcefed lasagna.

Other kids just got part-time jobs at Batburger, or working for the local gangs, but no, Terry let Dick Grayson con him into this.

“Chum…. Insulting… resting my back… No, I didn’t fall down… already had those bruises- Excuse me!?” The faint words drifted from…the ceiling? Terry paused and stared upwards as fragments of sentences kept coming through.

As silently as if he was trying to avoid a hostage situation in downtown Gotham, Terry slunk upstairs to the room above where he’d just been and found - an empty room. 

What the fuck?

“Don’t need… he’s a baby… enough…fries…” Well, now the words were coming from the floor. 

Had Bruce Wayne gotten under the floorboards? 

No, that was ridiculous. But where was he? He listened harder. “I am… man. Ridiculous.” That actually was coming from the floor… near the window?

Terry didn’t quite want to believe he was considering this, but he opened the window and peered outside, immediately making eye contact with the billionaire holding a cell phone to his ear with one hand and clinging to the wall with the other. 

“What the fuck?” Terry breathed, reaching out and grabbing the front of his shirt, using all of his muscles to drag the unresisting man back into his absurdly expensive house. Both fell back onto the plush carpeting, the window swinging wildly in the wake of their movement. 

“I was on the phone.” Was all Bruce Wayne said, huffing as he stood up, brushed himself off and then stalked out of the room.

Terry stared after him incredulously and then rushed to catch up, not keen to lose his charge again so quickly. 

From Weird Dick: Sorry about that. I did say he was a fall risk. How’s an extra $500 in bonus this week sound? Bruce says you can get your fries jokerized for that much money.

Chapter Text

Every passing day at Wayne Manor just got stranger, but every update to the total paycheck he’d be getting on Friday kept him coming back. Bruce Wayne must have no idea that every bribe attempt just put his eldest’s wallet in more dire straits. Every day it was a new number.

“500 bucks.”

“I tell you two hundred bucks is the cost of a Batburger meal, and you barely double it? Billionaires are stingier than I’d heard.

“800 bucks.”

“Did you know Mr. Grayson told me off for not making myself something to eat too? Your kid’s weird.”

“A thousand bucks.”

“Should I be updating your son about that vein in your forehead?”

“Two thousand bucks.”

“Oh, that reminds me, he said he knew about the vein.”

By the end of the week, there was a cool $4000 on top of what he’d already been promised as pay - and as much as he’d joked about the cost of a fast food meal, that was not chump change. 

Terry swallowed as he refreshed the bank app, as if that would change the number in his checking account. He’d never seen four digits in his bank account before. 

He’d known a big payout was coming. That’s why he’d kept showing up. But this was real. Richard Grayson had sent it at some ungodly hour in the morning, with no reluctance. 

Terry refreshed the app again. 

Wow.

“Ter? Breakfast is ready, come get some before Matt eats your share!” His mom called through the door, after knocking on it lightly with her knuckles.

“Uh - can you come in, actually?” 

Mary opened the door immediately, her brows knit in concern. “Is everything okay?” She was dressed for the day in a blue dress, her short red hair tidy and brushed out. 

Terry turned so there was space on the bed next to him and offered her his phone. She took it carefully. “What-?” Her question died before she got more than one word out, and she sat heavily next to him. “Terry, please tell me this is legal.” 

Well, that hurt. “I never had a score like this when I was running with Big-" he probably shouldn't use his street nickname, "with Charlie. I’m not - I told you that I would shape up after everything!" Hurt was pulsing in his chest, his fists clenched. "Why don’t you trust me!?”

His mother put his phone on the bed and grabbed both of his hands in hers. He didn’t look at her eyes, trying to control the rise of emotions. Being doubted made him angry but being angry made him guilty. But why should he be guilty? He hadn't done anything wrong!

That’s your problem right there. You can’t control your temper.

His father’s words floated through his mind and Terry winced at the painful memory of that last conversation.

He shouldn’t have raised his voice.

“Mom, I-”

“Shh. Shhh, Ter, it’s okay. I do trust you. I promise, I’m all ears. It’s just… a lot of money, and you haven’t been saying much about this new job.” Her thumbs rubbed gentle circles on his hands, and he let out a breath, releasing some of his frustration.

“Yeah. It’s… weird, I wanted to see if they would actually cough up the money. And uh - yeah. It’s…” He bit his lip, trying to think of how to phrase it. “You know those volunteer things that teenagers in places like Metropolis do? Where they hang out with old people to keep them company?”

“...Ter, is an old man paying you to spend time with him, because I want to circle back around to some of our conversations about healthy relationships-” Mary said, a little bit of horror in her eyes.

“No, Mom, god. His son is paying me to spend time with him.”

As soon as the correction left his mouth, he winced. That didn’t really sound that much better. 

“I’m calling the Red Hood.” Mary said, standing up immediately. 

“Mom, that number is for emergencies . It’s fine, the old guy really doesn’t want me there at all.” Terry grabbed her hand, trying to drag her back down. “The Red Hood doesn’t need to be involved, I’m just making sure a rich old dude that thinks he’s invulnerable doesn’t fall down the stairs and break his hip or something.”

Mary didn’t sit down, but she didn’t keep going either, turning to stand over her son with crossed arms. Since he was a head taller than her these days, this was really the only way she could loom over him now. “That’s it?”

“Well, and make sure he eats a decent meal. Apparently, he’ll live off military rations and granola bars if he has half a chance.” Terry added with a shrug. “He’s a grouch but he’s totally fine. He keeps trying to bribe me to go away, and his son just adds the bribe amounts to my paycheck so I won’t take the bribe and fuck off.”

“Language!” She admonished sharply and he snorted. Like that was the worst thing Matt would hear, growing up in the bad part of Gotham. “...If he or his son do anything creepy, you’ll come home and tell the Red Hood? He’ll go after anyone that hurts children, no matter how rich. And we’re in his territory.”

Leaving aside that he was a sixteen-year-old and not a child… “Yeah, Mom, I will. They’ve been totally uncreepy so far.” Well, in that way, anyways. Bruce Wayne was a certified Weirdo.

“Good. No amount of money is worth that. We’re doing okay on our own, alright?” She touched the side of his face softly and smiled at him.

“Yeah. I know. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too Ter-bear.”

She drew him up to his feet and gave him a big hug before leading him out the door and to his probably cold pancakes. “So does the rich old grouch have a name?”

“Oh. Yeah, It’s Bruce Wayne.” Terry stopped when his mother did, turning to her in confusion. “Mom…?”

“Old man…?” Her face was turning red as she turned to him, fire in her eyes. “HE IS FIVE YEARS OLDER THAN ME, TERRENCE!”

Oh, shit.

—

To Weird Dick: My Mom would like to talk to you, Mr. Grayson.

—

“ Mom !” Terry said, aghast when he opened the door to let his new employer in and saw her sitting at the dining room table with the actual Red Hood. “You didn’t !”

“Hush, Terry.”

“Yeah, Terry, hush.” Red Hood echoed, his amusement audible through his voice modulator. 

“Mr. Red Hood, we meet again.” Dick Grayson said, just as cheerful at this surprise as he’d been almost every time that Terry had encountered him. “And Mrs. McGinnis, it’s a delight to meet you. I’m glad you’re sensible enough to have your concerns, I’m sorry I wasn’t bright enough to realize I should have asked to speak with you at the beginning.”

“Please, take a seat the both of you. I’m sorry to spring this on you, I just… want to be careful. Would you like a drink?” Mary asked, clearly nervous in this company, but determination in the set of her shoulders.

“Where’s Matt?” Terry asked, sensing the lack of younger sibling in the apartment. (There was no screaming, rude comments or accusations of stealing and/or wrecking his things.)

“At a friends’ house. I thought this might be a bit much for him.” Mary said, smiling slightly at Terry’s concern. “Sit down already.”

The newcomers sat, one more gracefully than the other. Terry was slouching over the table, sore that his mother had actually called their local murderous vigilante to make sure he wasn’t being trafficked. This was so uncool. Now the Red Hood was going to think he was a momma’s boy.

“So, Mary here says you’re bribing her boy to spend time with a rich old codger?” The Red Hood started, and Terry sat up straight.

“He’s not old - he’s not old at all, fifty is a very young age.” He said fast, carefully not looking at his mother.

“He’s old at heart, I’ll say. He somehow went straight from playboy buddy to shouting at Terry to get off his lawn.” Dick said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m afraid all of his old sports injuries have caught up to him. He’s done some wild things and gotten some bad injuries, and I’m afraid that they might heal, but the body remembers.”

“I… do remember hearing about him breaking his back once, just before Terry was born. That wasn’t that long after that nice boy died too.” Mary tutted, frowning to herself.

Terry had no idea who ‘that nice boy’ was, but it had been before he was born, so did it really matter?

“...That was before this kid was born ?” Red Hood asked, sounding surprised. His whole body had gone tense, his earlier amused ease vanishing. 

“It… was a really hard time in our family.” Dick said softly, laughter and smiles gone now. “I know it was… god, eighteen years ago now. But Jason was… something really special. We’ll never forget him. Sometimes it’s… like I can still hear his voice, when I walk through Gotham.” Dick lets out a shaky breath. “Could I bother you for a glass of water, actually? Sorry.”

“Of course.” Mary said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder before getting up to head to the kitchen.

The Red Hood was extremely still, staring directly at Dick Grayson. Terry just felt awkward. So… Bruce Wayne had a dead kid? Did that have to come up right now? 

He should say something, right?

“I’m… sorry for your loss? I don’t know how I’d cope if I lost Matty.” Probably he wouldn’t like it if his new teenage employee’s mother just randomly brought it up twenty years later. 

“Thanks, Terry. I appreciate that.” Dick said, finding a soft smile to direct his way. Was this guy raised in Metropolis or something? “Jason was a really sweet, gentle kid. I’ll always remember how-”

“Okay, let’s stop dwelling on your dead brother, we get it.” The Red Hood interrupted, and Terry choked on the sudden inappropriate laughter. “You can write the Pope and nominate him for sainthood later.”

“The Pope already said no, even though I had several miracle examples ready to go.” Dick Grayson said mournfully. 

“Please be joking.” The Red Hood said - no, almost hissed, and something was pinging Terry about the way they interacted, but he couldn’t say what. 

Terry’s mother came back and handed Dick a glass of water before he could reply. He thanked her and took a deep breath before putting the glass down and letting out a careful breath.

“Okay… so, are there any specific questions you have for me? I’m an open book.”

—

The conversation had mostly put Mary’s mind at ease, especially since Red Hood promised he had no compunction against kicking Bruce Wayne’s ass. Weirdly, Dick Grayson’s smile had only gotten wider at that. She supposed if he’d grown up with his adoptive father being accused of such terrible things, it was probably nothing new to him.

“Terry’s a good kid. Bruce doesn’t need a nurse or anything, just someone who can work a phone and heat up premade meals. And who won’t take easy bribes.” The man had said, winking at Terry, who’d rolled his eyes.

So. That was that. Terry had a truly strange after-school job that wouldn’t interfere with his grades and paid well enough that he wouldn’t be tempted to go back to some of his bad habits and rebellions that had landed him in juvie once already.

It was only when Mary woke up to almost his entire paycheck transferred into her account that she realized that he didn’t intend to use his paycheck for himself. 

Chapter Text

By the time he’d worked this job for a month, Terry had a few lists

Rules that Dick Grayson hadn’t specified at the start:

• Bruce is allowed to leave the house via the front door. Terry doesn’t have to follow him if he’s had a meal, but if Bruce isn’t back by the time Terry’s ready to go home, he needs to let Dick know. If he hasn’t had a meal, Terry doesn’t have to follow him, but it’s fine if he can.
• Terry should have some of the premade food as well. Dick’s weirdly good at guessing when he doesn’t eat anything, or if he buys himself junk on the way to the Manor anyways. 
• Don’t make puns where Dick Grayson can hear. It won’t end.

Lessons:

• It’s easiest to feed Bruce when you just left the food next to him while he was occupied with something else. 
• Bruce needs to be prevented from doing more than preparing himself coffee at risk of personal injury.

Observations:

• The old man has the coolest, best dog in the entire world. Terry promised his mother he wasn’t going to steal anymore but he might make an exception for Ace.

—-

“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?” Terry cooed, but the weiler dane ignored him, head pillowed on his paws where he sat next to Bruce. “C’mon boy, I’ve got treats for you.”

“Stop trying to suborn my dog.” Was growled at him, and Terry sighed, tossing the dried treat towards the dog anyways. Ace deserved it for being such a good dog, even if his loyalty was towards the rudest, grouchiest billionaire there was, probably.

“Well, someone in this place needs to be friendly, and Dick’s not here right now.” Terry pointed out, privately reflecting that Dick hadn’t stepped foot into the Manor since he’d shown Terry the way, given him the passcodes and the key, and introduced him. Neither had any of the other Wayne kids. And he hadn’t had a day off yet that wasn’t for explicitly business purposes, the details of which Bruce had taken sadistic delight in boring Terry with for actual hours.

Huh. 

Must be hard having a half dozen of rich kids that never came to visit. No wonder he was a misery these days.

Terry would come to regret feeling bad for Bruce Wayne on the topic of his children. But not yet. 

—---

“Mr. Wayne. Mr. Wayne, you haven’t eaten anything yet. Mr. Wayne, it’s my job to make sure you eat.” He could almost see the steam rising from the old man’s temper as he trailed him through a department store. “Mr. Wayne, your son is worried about your health.” He added, trying to sound like he was concerned too. 

An hour ago, Terry had suspected that Mr. Wayne was going to make another run for it. Dick had told him not to worry about it the last three times Terry had lost his charge before dinner, and had the nerve to imply that it was hard to keep track of an old man that had never had a more strenuous job than signing documents sometimes. 

Well, that had been a challenge, clearly.

Now, the last three times Mr. Wayne had run off, he’d been alternating cars, but it had always been the car with keys hanging closest to the garage door - something he was probably changing in the afternoons while Terry was at school.

So, really, it was pretty easy to hide in the trunk of the getaway vehicle.

Why exactly Bruce Wayne had taken forty minutes and a lot of turns to get to a fancy store that Terry knew full well was twenty minutes from his manor, he had no idea. Did he think Terry would be trailing him in one of his other cars?

(Did that count as tacit permission to take one of his luxury cars for a joyride because hell yes .)

Anyways, Terry took great satisfaction in grabbing the rear seat latch and pushing at the back seats so that the backseat folded forwards suddenly. The lock of wide-eyed shock had been so worth all the bumps and bruises from rattling in the trunk for almost an hour. 

(Terry had felt kind of bad at the way Bruce Wayne had clutched at his chest, though.)

Anyways. Now he was doing his best to annoy the man into going back home. 

“Terry, I’m not hungry. Go wait in the car, I have errands to run.”

“Oh cool, I’ll hold your bags. Don’t want you to sprain a muscle or something.” After a moment, Terry made a face. “That can’t be good for your teeth, I can hear them grinding.”

“Father hasn’t had his own teeth for years, don’t be an idiot.” Who was that? Bruce’s head jerked up like Ace scenting his dinner being put out. Terry turned to see a guy maybe 8 years his senior, with extremely name-brand clothes and a look on his face like he’d smelled something bad. This would be the youngest Wayne then. 

Next to him was a redheaded guy with a friendly expression, wearing relaxed jeans and a t-shirt that said ‘Robin 4ever’ with a picture of the weirdly old Robin on it. Whether the shirt was supporting Robin, or joining in on the citywide amusement that the full adult man wearing the costume refused to change identities, Terry wasn’t sure.

(Terry joined in on the jokes, but it had been the same Robin most of his life. Who’d be Robin if the current one stopped?)

“Hey, he barely knows Mr. Wayne, be nice.” The redhead said, elbowing his friend and holding out a hand to Terry, who took it after a moment. “I’m Colin Wilkes. I hear that you’re the poor soul conned into this job?”

“Yeah, they told me he was just a nice old man that needed someone to prechew his food for him, and now I’m here. I’m Terry.”

Colin laughed, and Damian made a face. “Disgusting. Colin, remind me to order some vegetarian smoothie mixes for Father.”

“Damian, you know that I can chew my own food.” Bruce said, exasperated. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes. “I thought you had class right now, what are you doing here?”

“Shopping.” There was a shrug and no further excuses.

“ Damian .”

“ Father .”

“Oof, is it chilly in here or is it just me?” Colin whispered to Terry, who couldn’t suppress the snort that came out of him. 

“I think Mr. Freeze is back in Gotham.” Terry snickered. Evidently he wasn’t quite as good as whispering, because he found himself pinned with matching Wayne glares, and he held his hands in the air in wordless surrender. 

“This is a private conversation. Wilkes, I’ll trust you to watch the child while I speak with Father.” Damian’s glare didn’t quite soften, but he did close one in a sudden and unnerving wink. “I’ll watch Father for you, McGinnis, he won’t make a getaway that easily.

“Uh- thanks?” Terry said, not resisting as Colin led him a few steps backwards, so that the Wayne’s could talk. 

“Between you and me, Damian caught wind of his dad making a break for it and wanted to herd him back to the manor.” Colin told him, his broad face creased in a fond smile. 

“Well that’s- helpful. I kind of got the impression none of the Wayne’s wanted to deal with him, honestly.” Terry said, rubbing the back of his head. Colin felt like a normal enough person, even if he did hang with a billionaire’s kid. It felt like both of them didn’t fit in with the clientele of this department store, instead of it just being Terry that stuck out.

“Eh. I mean, if he was your dad, would you?” Colin asked, and Terry’s heart twisted a little.

“I don’t know… he doesn’t seem to be a monster, and if his health is declining… I mean, I’d like a few more minutes with my old man, y’know?” It was achingly personal, but something told him that Colin wouldn’t judge.

Colin’s face was understanding. “Yeah. I mean, theoretically. I’m an orphan - and not like his bunch, if I had parents, they never bothered introducing themselves to me. But… yeah. I get it. Has it been long?”

“Long enough. He’s technically missing but…”

“Ah. Yeah. That’s rough.”

“So’s being an orphan. How’d you stop Wayne from adopting you?

“And be bereft of the nuns at Saint Aden’s? Perish the thought. How am I supposed to have Catholic guilt like that?”

Terry had never laughed so soon after talking about his father’s disappearance before.

The Waynes approached after a few more minutes, Damian still telling off a sullen looking Bruce Wayne. “You told Richard you were cutting down… I expect you to keep your word, Father. I know you’re more honourable than this.” 

Cutting down…? Oh god, was this a liquor run? Was that part of Wayne’s health problems?

Terry was so driving them back.

“I will be taking care of Father’s errands for the day.” The living embodiment of nepotism announced, making his father’s face look even more sour.

“Terrence-” Damian addressed him suddenly and Terry grimaced at the full name. It sounded like he was in trouble. “I apologize for my father’s childish behaviour. It will improve soon, I’m sure.” …Well, Bruce was in trouble, apparently, not Terry. That worked out.

“I appreciate that?” Terry said, a little confused.

“Is that a question, or gratitude?” Damian said with a raised eyebrow that he’d practically xeroxed off of his father’s face.

“Thank you.” Terry said more firmly, and Colin patted his shoulder.

“Good luck, kid. You’ll need it.”

—--

Observation:

Damian’s friend was really nice. And really broad. And funny. And Terry owed Max five bucks because goddamnit, he really was bisexual. How did he lose a bet about his own sexuality?

—--

Terry had been given the day off since Bruce was headed off to a rich person party. There’d be lots of food there, and lots of people to notice if he fell and couldn’t get up.

Unfortunately, Terry had gotten too comfortable spending time at the Wayne Manor, and had left his biology homework there. But, it was no big deal, right? It should be empty, he’d just slip in, grab the homework, and head out. Then he could maybe go out dancing with Dana tonight. 

Getting in was no big deal, but just as he found his homework in the sitting room he’d come to favor for working in, he heard the sound of murmuring, as if someone had just manifested in the hallway nearby. No one had been there two minutes ago.

Was the Manor being robbed?

Terry definitely wasn’t being paid enough to defend against home invaders. 

But he was born in Gotham, and wasn’t going to look smiling Dick Grayson in the eye and say he’d been scared of some two bit capeless robber. Who robbed an old man anyways!? (...Well, it was Gotham, lots of people did. But it was the principle of the thing.) He grabbed the first thing that looked like it could be a passable projectile weapon and slunk into the hallway quietly, brandishing the ugly vase.

“Terry, that is worth half a million dollars, put it down.” Bruce Wayne snapped, and Terry dropped the vase in surprise. What was the old man doing here?

His companion dove forwards and caught the vase before it shattered on the ground, holding it to his chest and breathing out hard in relief. “That was a close one.” He carefully got to his feet, and then reached with one hand to adjust his glasses, holding the vase securely with the other.

“I thought you were going to a party?!” Terry said, wondering if he’d been conned by the eldest Wayne somehow. No, Dick had confirmed…

Bruce was standing next to a giant old clock, the kind that still had sticks moving in a circle to tell time. You’d think a billionaire could have upgraded. “I left early. You weren’t supposed to be here without me.” He growled accusingly.

“I left my homework here. I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to come grab it.” Terry waved the document in the air for proof.

“...Bruce, I thought you’d quit this habit.” The stranger said, looking between Terry and Bruce Wayne with concern. “You’re getting older, y’know.”

Was this more evidence for the ‘Bruce Wayne is an alcoholic’ theory?

“I’m not adopting him, Kent.” Bruce massaged the bridge of his nose, looking pained.

“You have said that about so many children.” ‘Kent’ pointed out with no small amount of amusement. “And yet, your brood always grew. You’re the broodiest guy I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not up for adoption. My mom would lose her shit.” Terry chimed in, and somehow that got an annoyed look from Bruce, as if he wasn’t backing the old man up. Nothing made this guy happy. “I’m Terry, the nanny. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I write for the Daily Planet…?” Kent answered, blinking as the rest of Terry’s introduction sank in. “Nanny? So there is a new kid around here somewhere?”

The Daily Planet made sense, Terry’s dad had liked to read several news websites and often sent Terry “interesting” ones to read. “No, just the elderly one.”

“Terry.” Bruce growled.

Kent took a few moments to figure out what Terry meant, and his free hand slowly rose to his face, utterly failing to cover the wide, delighted grin that spread over his face.

“ Clark. ” Bruce’s growl sounded almost painful. Terry’s throat hurt in sympathy.

“I’m here to make sure he eats and doesn’t have any accidents. His back’s acting up.” Terry said innocently, rewarded by the highest pitched noise of hysteria he’d ever heard an older man make as Clark Kent’s shoulders began to shake. “Dick says he’s a fall risk.”

“I’m leaving.” Bruce snarled, turning on his heel and stalking down the hall.

“A fall risk !” Clark wheezed, so overwhelmed by hilarity that he was doubled over, holding out the vase to Terry to avoid the risk of dropping it. His face was quickly turning red as he gasped for air. 

Terry examined the vase closer, turning it over and spotting the initials ‘DW’ carved into the base. Worth half a million dollars his ass.

Chapter Text

Terry had worried that his new job would make the field trip to the corporate office of WayneTech more awkward, but that had been silly. It wasn’t like the Waynes brought him up to their employees, after all. He let himself tune out the explanation of various technological projects that his class was being shown, watching Dana who was slightly ahead of him in the small crowd. 

Her hair looked so soft and glossy today. Would it be weird to tell her that? He was her boyfriend, but he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.

Max stood by his side, scribbling notes in her notebook, eyes bright with interest in the lecture. He leaned over and whispered “nerd” in her ear, and she barely stopped taking notes to whack him in the shoulder with the notebook. 

Terry grinned, unrepentant. Then his eyes strayed back to the prettiest girl in class, as they often did when he was in class with Dana. 

This time she made eye contact with him and after a few moments of his heart melting in his chest, she flushed and flapped her hand at him, determinedly facing forwards again. 

“You’re embarrassing her~” Max teased as the small crowd of teenagers started to move on, and they followed the herd. “You’re embarrassing to hang out with, making those puppy dog eyes.”

“Is it a crime to like your girlfriend now?” Terry huffed. Their teacher was explaining that they had a half hour to eat lunch and to stay within either the room they’d been led to or the lobby, but Terry and Max were far from the only teens to be talking rather than listening. “Maybe you should try getting one.”

“Hey, stop taking out your frustrations that your mom didn’t let you drop out on me.” Max hissed at him. 

Terry made a face at her, but froze as snickering came from behind him. That didn’t sound like any of their classmates. 

“Hey, the CEO of this company is a high school dropout, y’know.” Terry and Max turned to see the speaker as Dana joined their group, linking her arm around Terry’s. The speaker was a relatively handsome younger man, with a widow’s peak and wearing a business jacket. He was dressed down compared to some of the suits walking around here.

“Is that the kind of inspirational quote that your bosses want you to be telling the high schoolers visiting today?” Max asked, stowing her notebook into her bag. “Seems counterproductive.”

“I can’t wait to go home and tell my dad that when I visited Wayne Tech, they told me to quit school as soon as I can,” Dana chimed in, picking up on the context even though she’d not been with them when the words were said.

Terry, who had made the ‘I can definitely get a job at Wayne Tech after they don’t need me to watch Bruce Wayne anymore, so I don’t need to finish high school’ argument, only scowled. Somehow he didn’t think ‘Bruce Wayne’s son got a good job at his dad’s company without finishing high school’ would persuade her any better.

The Wayne Tech Employee laughed. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell my boss that I said that, for sure. He’s kind of a pill sometimes. I’m just making sure all of you kids get the memo that we’re having some pizza get delivered in a few minutes, so none of you go feral from hunger or anything.”

Terry brightened. He hadn’t had a lot of opportunity to pig out on junk food since the bizarre insistence on having healthy meals at the Wayne Manor.

“Alright!” Dana cheered. “Thanks, dude.”

Max’s face was clouded with thought when she echoed the thank you as Terry did.

“Sure thing. Can’t have you all leaving Wayne Tech with a bad impression, can I? How’s the tour been? Carl was real excited to talk to some of you - I hear there’s a real smart cookie in this class that’s been doing some very excellent program development in her spare time. I’m hoping we make a good impression.” 

“Oh, so you’re trying to scoop up our personal genius.” Dana said, her eyes narrowing protectively. “That’s sneaky.”

“Sneaky? No, sneaky would be not telling her we’re interested in her skills. How’s it hanging, Max?” The man winked and shot two finger guns in the direction of the girl with bright pink hair, and Max thumped her fist in her hand.

“I know where I recognize you from! You’re the high school dropout!”

Tim Drake-Wayne laughed loud enough to draw a few curious gazes. The arrival of some other Wayne Tech employees with pizza garnered the cheers of the rest of the class and distracted them all. “You can also call me Tim, ‘the high school dropout’ is a bit of a mouthful.”

“You’re one of the Wayne kids!” Terry said in realization.

“I’m like, 31. Will I ever not be called ‘kid’?” Tim sighed with mock sorrow, then shrugged. “That’s me. You’ve met Dick and the Demon Brat, right?”

“Lots of friendly nicknames in this family.” Dana murmured to Max, who smirked. 

“It’s a weird family.” Terry told her, to Tim’s apparent amusement. 

“Kid, you don’t know the half of it.” He paused, considered and then shrugged again. “Yet, anyways.” Wow, that sounded ominous. “Now, why don’t you kids grab some pizza, and then I’d actually love to talk to you, Max, about some internship opportunities. The stuff you’ve posted online has been impressive, but I suspect you’ve got more interesting stuff you’re working on…”

—

“Tim’s your least weird kid so far.” Terry informed Bruce as he slipped a plate of chicken and vegetables next to his elbow.

“Tim? Don’t be ridiculous.” Bruce grunted, flipping to the next page of the dense book he was reading, seemingly ignoring his meal. Terry poured a glass of water and left that next to him too. He wasn’t required to do that, but it seemed like a good idea to stop the old man from getting thirsty.

“Dick smiles too much, and Damian is, with all respect, terrifying.” Terry told him with an eyeroll, not impressed that calling Damian scary made Bruce smile a little.

Bruce even condescended to take a forkful of vegetables into his mouth without waiting ten minutes for it to get cold and for him to forget he didn’t want a teenager to be providing him his meals.

“Which one of them cooks these meals, anyways?” Terry asked curiously, falling into a comfortable chair nearby and picking up his laptop so he could keep working on his latest school project.

“Jason.” Bruce grunted, taking another bite as he made a note about something in his book on a nearby piece of paper.

Terry froze.

Oh… oh no.

Oh, this was so sad.

Dick hadn’t mentioned this. Did he not know? Was Terry seeing the first signs of senility?

He hoped so, it would be fucked up to dump a senile old man on an untrained teenager.

Terry gentled his voice without meaning to do so. “Oh. Oh, that’s…. Nice. I bet Jason used to love to cook.” Internally, he winced. Was that wrong? Should he be pretending Jason was still alive? His fingers flew on his laptop keyboard, quickly searching up ‘how to support old people who forget things.’ Daily routines… relieving emotional stress… to do lists…

Well, hopefully he’s not doing this wrong, because none of this is helpful for his current situation.

“What?” Bruce lifted his head and stared at him with narrowed eyes, and just as he opened his mouth, his phone started ringing. “I have to take this.” He grabbed the phone up and stalked out of the room, Ace on his heels. “Barbara?”

“Stay inside the house!” Terry shouted after him, then took advantage to shove his laptop to the side of the chair and whip his own phone out, calling Dick without texting first like some kind of maniac.

“Terry? Is everything okay?” Dick answered, voice urgent and concerned.

“I think your dad has alzheimers and I don’t know how to handle this, Mr. Grayson. I think you need a real nurse or something, I can’t keep him on a schedule, and I’ve probably just been stressing him out more and this is way too much responsibility-” Terry’s voice got higher pitched and faster the more he talked until Dick broke in to his panic.

“Terry. Terry, breathe .” Dick seemed less freaked out now, but his voice was calm and soothing. “Take a nice deep breathe for me, okay? Why do you think he has alzheimers?”

“Because he said that Jason cooks the meals !”

“...Oh. Oh fuck. ”

—--

Terry left early that evening, Dick having rushed over after the disasterous phone call. Dick’s eyes had been a little wild, and his smile had been strained. Poor guy. He clearly hadn’t known.

Terry felt shitty about how annoying he’d been to the old man.

“Hey kid.” Terry stopped and looked to the man on the motorcycle. He was only a block away from his family’s apartment, but he wasn’t about to ignore the Red Hood. 

“Uh - hey, Mr. Hood. Everything okay?” 

Red Hood leaned forwards on the handlebars. “That’s what I wanted to ask you. You’re still watching that old rich guy, right?”

“Please don’t let my mom hear you call him old.” Terry winced. “But yeah… I don’t know for how much longer though, today was rough.”

The Red Hood stiffened, straightening up with a dangerous slow movement. “Was the old man a jerk? What did he say to you? I will kick a geriatric’s ass, I promise.”

“No! No- just… look, don’t spread it around, I guess, but he just… had a scary memory slip. I think this is above my pay grade now, y’know? I can’t keep reminding a guy that his dead kid is dead.” Terry’s stomach flipped. “I think I’ve been a jerk myself, the internet said not to stress out Alzheimer's patients and I’ve been kind of irritating.”

“...He… forgot that his kid is dead?” Red Hood’s voice, filtered through the voice filter, sounded strangled. “His dead kid?”

“Yeah. Scary, right? Money can’t buy everything, I guess.” Terry shoved his hands in his pockets. “His son’s over there right now. I… ugh. It’s fucking sad, Mr. Hood. I think I’ve been a huge jerk. He must miss Jason so much.”

“Yeah. Sad.” The Red Hood breathed out hard. “Go home, kid. It’ll be okay.”

“Unless I traumatized an Alzheimer's patient, sure.” Terry walked away, and it took a while before he actually heard the motorcycle start up and peel away.

–

Terry showed up the next day expecting to be fired, bearing an apology gift basket in his backpack. 

Instead he found two women in the front room, chatting quietly to each other. “-just forgot ? He never forgets.” He heard the blonde one say to the asian woman, who didn’t reply and just nodded in his direction. 

He gasped a little. “You’re - Stephanie Brown!”  She looked surprised and pleased to be recognized.

“You haven’t recognized one of my children on sight, but you know Stephanie Brown?” Bruce asked, coming into the room, lifting one of his eyebrows with the same amount of judgement he always did. So at least he felt fine.

“Yeah, my mom voted for her last year, when she ran for mayor.” Terry explained, turning back to Stephanie. “She’s still mad you didn’t make it. And you sponsored a waffle breakfast  at my elementary school when you were running for city council for the first time. Who could forget the patron of free waffles?”

“Hah! I told you that was a good idea! In your face, Bruce!” The somewhat well respected city councilwoman crowed, poking her finger in his chest. “You told me it was childish and wouldn’t help me get votes, well, the children liked it!”

“You’ve got my vote. When I can, anyways.” Terry volunteered with a smirk, which faded when Bruce rolled his eyes irritably. He needed to stop provoking Wayne, he was delicate.

“I’m Cassandra Wayne.” The other woman introduced, holding out her hand, seemingly tired of not being asked. “Thank you for watching my father, I worry.”

“You don’t have to.” Bruce grumbled.

“Oh - no, it’s… literally my job, uh…” Terry said awkwardly. He felt like he should apologize for the news that her dad was losing his grip, but Bruce was right there and seeming relatively put together. And also he might lose the job to be replaced by a real nurse, given what was going on.

“So, I’m a family friend and wanted to chat with you and explain some things, Cass will sit with her dad for a bit.” Stephanie said easily, hooking an arm around Terry’s shoulders. 

“I don’t see why I can’t be part of the conversation. This is my house.” Bruce grumbled.

“You used to be better at pretending to be cheerful.” Stephanie snorted. “Where has Brucie gone?”

“My children destroyed him along with my youth, it seems.”

“Love you.” Cassandra Wayne chirped, tugging her father into another room.

“C’mere, let’s sit in the kitchen and talk.” Stephanie led him into the room and gestured for him to sit down. She bustled around the kitchen like she lived there, heating up some water and taking out four matching mugs. “Tea or hot chocolate?”

“Coffee.” 

“You’re like, twelve.” Stephanie huffed, but started pulling out the grounds anyway. “Just like Tim at your age. You saw how his growth is stunted, right?”

“Eh. So, why are you talking to me and not Dick? You’re a family friend, but he hired me.” Terry asked, putting his arms on the table and leaning forwards.

“Well, while Bruce never adopted me, I’ve been as good as family since I dated Tim when we were your age. The others are a little stressed out about all this, so I volunteered.” Stephanie hummed as she started on the coffee and hot chocolate first. “It’s not so bad as you probably think. The family doctor says that this is normal as you get older, and he hasn’t shown any other symptoms of long-term memory problems. We’d like you to keep coming by. If you see any other signs of memory issues, let one of us know right away, we want to monitor the situation.”

Well. He did want to keep helping his mother out with the rent, but that wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. 

Why weren’t they firing him? Why weren’t they mad at him?

Maybe they hadn’t realized how much Bruce and him had bickered.

He twisted his fingers together and stared at the table before confessing what had been plaguing him all night. “I… think I’ve been stressing him out more, and- and the internet said-”

“Hey! Hey, no.” Stephanie came over and wrapped him in a hug, which he didn’t resist. It was weird, but comforting at the same time. “Hey, shush, it’s alright little buddy. His actual doctor with an actual medical degree, who knows this family inside and out, literally said nothing about us trying to stress him out less. And we’re all terrible chaos demons, okay? You being a funny little guy that can give him a run for his money in stopping his escape attempts is no big deal.”  

“It’s not?” Terry asked, swallowing back a ball in his throat. 

Stephanie pulled back and patted his cheek. “I stole one of his cars last week and scratched it. If anyone should feel bad here, it’s probably Damian.”

“Wha- what, why Damian?” Terry asked, bewildered. She’d scratched the car so - why Damian?

“Because I framed him for it, of course. Shows him for getting a masters in business . Gross.”

Terry would never understand rich people. 

Stephanie went back to the drink-making and hummed for a moment while Terry collected himself and wiped his eyes. “Oh - and you asked about the person that makes the food? It’s cousin Kate.”

“The lesbian?”

“Oh, her you know.”

“Well, my friend Max tells me twice a week that she wants Kate Kane to step on her, so. Yeah.”

Stephanie burst out laughing again. “Kate’s got the baby gays after her? Precious. Anyways, she’s ex-military - got kicked out when being gay wasn’t allowed, y’know - and is a real hard ass. So, I can see why you thought one of Bruce’s kids was leaving those notes, but it’s a cousin instead. You want me to get you her autograph for your friend?”

“...Can I get yours? For my mom, y’know?”

Stephanie thwacked his hand lightly. “You little charmer. Alright, help me take these hot chocolates to the others, and then I’ll give you an autograph… for your mom.” She winked and started pouring out the drinks. 

“...Can I ask another question?”

“Just did, bud. I’ll give you one more though.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Um… is Bruce an alcoholic? I heard something about him promising Dick that he’d ‘cut down’ and Damian seemed irritated that he wasn’t. I wasn’t sure if I should be keeping alcohol out of his reach or….”

Stephanie overfilled the mug of coffee, staring at him. “What?”

“Ms. Brown, the counter!” Terry said, dashing for the paper towels as she swore and stepped away. Terry cleaned up, taking a big sip of the steaming hot black coffee.

“Sorry about that Terry. I didn’t… expect you to figure that out. Yeah, he… has a problem, but we can’t ask you to police this, it’s too much.” Stephanie said in a carefully measured way. “You’re quite the detective, huh?” 

Terry shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess.” 

“Well, don’t talk to him, he’s sensitive about people knowing he has a liquor problem. We’ll get him into AA one of these days.” Terry finished the three mugs of hot chocolate, and offered her two. “Thanks, bud. Let’s go tell Bruce that he’s not getting out of this nanny gig yet.”

Chapter Text

Things went back to the normal he’d gotten used to. Bruce hadn’t made any more slips about his dead son, and Terry had gradually stopped treating him with kid gloves. Mostly because it was pissing Bruce off worse than mouthing off ever had.

Terry was playing some club music in “his” sitting room as he scrolled through his social media, pausing every so often to leave a heart reaction on Dana’s posts.

“What is that noise?” Oh, great, company. That was always a treat. Terry paused the music, looking up at the scowling Damian Wayne, flanked by not just his hot friend, but another man with a friendly grin.

“It’s got a fun rhythm.” The vaguely familiar new face said cheerfully. Terry was surprised to see Colin roll his eyes.

“One of the hottest club songs on the scene right now, and it’s got a fun rhythm ?” 

Damian scoffed. “It sounds like someone is tormenting the musician.” 

“So, it sounds like the one to party with here is Colin.” Terry got up and offered the redhead a fist, smiling as Colin knocked his knuckles against his. He wished he could grab a picture without being weird, Dana was incredibly curious about the crush that made him realize he was bisexual.

“Hey Damian. Hey… possible Wayne cousin?” The stranger choked.

“No! Not at all!” He said fast, as Colin snickered. “I’m Jon Kent, Damian’s best friend.”

Wow, Mr. Freeze must be back in town because the temperature surrounding Colin just dipped to subzero. 

“Oh, uh… I think I met your Dad or something? Clark Kent?” Terry said quickly, before a brawl could break out. He’d felt less violent energy in the middle of a street fight. Colin's hands were flexing.

“Yes, that’s this one’s father.” Damian said calmly, ignoring the serious vibe that he was standing in the middle of. “We were forced to play together as children, since our fathers got along. It ‘socialized’ me, as my older brothers like to say.” He actually used his fingers for the air quotes, and looked broadly disdainful of the concept of play dates.

“Yeah, me and Dames have been friends even longer. Though, Damian and I just met and hung out. Had a lot in common so we decided to keep hanging out.” Colin said casually. He had a quirk to his lips that you could almost call a smile, even as he dropped each word like a bomb, emphasizing a relationship born of choice and not mandated by parents. 

Terry hadn’t asked for any of this information, or to develop frostbite from the icy way Jon and Colin eyed each other. “...Cool. I would’ve guessed you all went to college together so… that’s good to know.” 

Damian rolled his eyes. “These two did bachelors and were done. I’m the only one that continued their education to achieve a higher purpose.” He said loftily, and this time both Jon and Colin rolled their eyes.

This friendship must give all their eyeballs a lot of exercise. 

“Right… you seem very certain of that. Anyways, were you looking for your dad?” Terry said, desperate to get clear of whatever this was. Why didn’t Damian look concerned by the way his friends were behaving?

“My Grandma sent me with pie for Mr. Wayne, I’m going to go heat it up in the kitchen! Won’t be a minute, I’ll bring a slice for him.” Jon said cheerfully and now Damian was shooting him a look.

“I imagine it will take fifteen minutes or so, Jon.” Damian said quickly and Jon blinked at him. “To preheat it, in the oven ? Maybe you should call Martha for instructions.”

“And maybe you should bring the whole pie to the dining room so we can meet you there.” Colin added, a little condescendingly. “Don’t want you wandering all over the Manor trying to find us.”

“Okay, that sounds like a plan!” Terry interrupted. “Dining room sounds great, let me show you where I left your dad and we’ll track him down from there!” Damian looked over his shoulder at Jon, but Terry didn’t look back and herded Colin and Damian out. 

“So, where did you leave Father? I grew up here, you can just tell me.” Damian said imperiously as Colin deliberately closed the door behind them with a little sniff.

“The office he liked with the antiques and your ugly vase.” Terry smirked.

“Ugly- that’s insured for half a million dollars !” Damian said, impossibly defensive of that thing’s aesthetic value.

“Art’s a big money laundering scam, you see.” Colin ‘whispered’ to Terry and dodged a swipe of Damian’s arm. “I’m not lying!” He teased, and Terry tried not to notice his freckles.

“Be that as it may-” Terry led the way to see if Bruce had left the office and hidden somewhere ridiculous as they kept arguing. It was a lot less intense then the sniping between Jon and Colin earlier.

“Mr. Wayne? You’ve got visitors.” Terry called out as he opened the door, and Bruce met his eyes with intensity and drew a line across his neck. 

‘I’m not here’ he mouthed but didn’t verbalize.

Despite understanding him perfectly, Terry’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry Mr. Wayne, what was that?”

“Terry, those three are exhaust- Damian! It’s been so long, how are classes? Only a month until you’re all done forever!” Bruce went from desperate to escape his youngest to a doting father.

Damian scoffed. “I need to speak with you, Father, then we will adjourn to the dining room where Jon will ply you with pie due to your tragic memory lapse. Colin, watch him.”

The office door swung closed, and again Colin and Terry were left waiting.

“...Hey. They do this a lot? Have little private meetings on a dime and exclude the people that were right there?” Terry asked.

“No.” Colin assured him hastily, then paused, cocked his head, and recanted. “Actually, yeah. A lot. I think it’s a rich people thing.” 

“Ugh.” Terry wrinkled his nose, making Colin laugh.

"It's mostly a bad habit." He excused the actions of his friend, mumbling a little as he did so. It had almost sounded like he'd said 'bat' instead of bad. Of course, he was probably just embarrassed by how obvious his crush had been with his sniping and glaring at his competition.

Terry shifted slightly awkwardly. “Hey, I know it’s none of my business, but… Damian seemed like he didn’t…. Notice?”

“Notice what?” Colin asked, looking confused. 

Terry raised both his eyebrows and gestured between Colin and the vague direction of the kitchen. “That. All of that.”

“Oh. You noticed?” 

“Dude.”

Colin rubbed his hands down his face. “I just… He… He’s a fucking Metropolitan, Terry.”

“Oh, gross.”

“I know, right?” Colin exclaimed. “It’s the fucking worst. He smiles all the time, and he’s not uncomfortable around clowns, and he doesn’t like Batburger. Batburger! And! And do you know what he says every time he comes?” Colin affects a chipper voice that vaguely resembles Jon’s. “'Why is it so cloudy?'” He faked a gag and went back to talking normally. “Every single time! It was the first thing he said today. I'm sorry they don't have weather in Metropolis!"

“But Damian likes him, huh?” Terry said sympathetically, and patted the shoulder of the older man. “That’s really rough.”

“I know.” Colin said mournfully. 

—

When the Waynes were done talking, he was told that he could stay for pie. Bruce slipped him a piece of paper offering him a thousand dollars to stay. 

Dick wasn’t going to match this bribe, but Terry wasn’t going to hang out with a dude from Metropolis that couldn’t even appreciate Batburger.

—---

From Weird Dick: Don’t tell Damian, he’ll figure it out eventually.

To Weird Dick: how much money is running on when he’ll figure it out?

From Weird Dick: You don’t want to know. This has been going on for almost 15 years.

To Weird Dick: no wonder your dad tried to bribe me to stay

From Weird Dick: Did you?

To Weird Dick: lol no

—----

Terry hoisted Matt up into the air, sweat dripping down his back as his brother fumbled with the vent covering before he got it open. As soon as he did, Terry helped the eight-year-old climb into the vent and forced the covering back on.

“Got your gas mask?” He whispered. 

Matt pulled his emergency gas mask out of his pocket. It was covered in batman logos and ouija planchette stickers. “Yeah. Terry, are you gonna be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, twip. Just stay hidden until this is over, okay?” Terry whispered. “I gotta go now. Stay quiet.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Terry.” Matt said, and Terry waved away the very likely possibility he would do something dumb. 

“Mask on.” He ordered.

This was one of his few evenings off and it was supposed to be a nice chance to bond more with Matt, who had started to worry their mom with how many ghost stories he’d been checking out of the library. 

And somehow that had ended up here, in an indoor trampoline park. It was in a better part of town than they lived, and Terry had found himself having as much fun as Matt, bouncing around and doing flips. Maybe he should take parkour back up? 

Then Scarecrow crashed the party and he’d been lucky enough to have been leaving the bathroom with his baby brother.

Now that he was somewhat safely stowed away, Terry put distance between Matt and him, to make sure that part of the building seemed more deserted. He also fished in his pocket for his own gas mask, pulling it on right away. His mask was more demure, but did have a little sticker for his high school sports team, since Dana liked going to the games. There was also a light dusting of glitter, since he and Dana and Max had decorated them together, and while Terry had kept his mostly basic, Max had used so much glitter . Both his and Dana’s still glittered, despite having used precisely 0 glitters. 

(Dana had three different masks, to coordinate with different outfits. There was something really cute about her wearing coordinating gas masks with her tiny dresses.)

Terry found himself grabbed by a masked goon. Damnit. “Mask off.” The goon ordered through his own gas mask under the fabric bag that the Scarecrow insisted his lackeys wear.

“Fat chance.” Terry scowled, dropping and kicking the legs out from under the taller man, making a dash for it after he’d broken free.

“Ah-ah, I’m here to see the reactions to my new formula. It’s no time to be wearing a silly little mask.” Tutted the man dressed up like a horror movie version of a Wizard of Oz character. Terry swallowed hard. Scarecrow had popped up out of nowhere, and it was hard to ignore how many of the other visitors at this park were on the ground, curled up and gibbering. 

Fear gas was the fucking worst.

He’d stopped running when Scarecrow appeared in his path and taken a step back. The goon from earlier grabbed his arms, and Terry immediately started to struggle violently. “Fuck off!”

“Brat,” the man grunted, holding on tight as his boss approached.

“This was all so much easier when no one carried a gas mask on them.” Scarecrow sighed.

“Tt. It’s sad how easy it is to circumvent your gas, isn’t it?” A drawling, arrogant voice rang out, and Terry felt relief surge through him. It was Robin! He craned his neck to see him, even as he heard Scarecrow’s hiss of fury. Robin stood still on top of a trampoline, the solid figure bouncing gently as he’d clearly just landed there. 

“‘Scuse me, it’s rude to grab.” A deeper voice growled from behind Terry, distracting him from the face-off between Robin and Scarecrow. He was released and fell onto the ground, turning over to see a massive hulking monster of a man wearing a trenchcoat holding the goon in midair by the back of his outfit. “ Very rude.” He grunted, something glinting on his free hand before it slammed into the masked face. 

Seeing the familiar stamp of ‘ABUSE’ having broken through the mask and indented on the man’s face, Terry lit up even more. Everyone in the Narrows knew that if you saw someone marked with that on their face that they were scum. This must be the mysterious figure behind the brand.

“Get to the side, kid.” The 7-foot-tall figure growled, dropping the limp figure on the ground and cracking his knuckles. “I’ve got a lot of rightfully placed aggression. Also some misplaced aggression.”

“What a combo,” Terry said weakly, scrambling to get out of the way while he could. 

More Scarecrow lackeys poured out, and soon enough Robin and Abuse were fighting back to back, working together effortlessly. Terry was no expert - he was a fair hand at street fighting, sure. But there was something almost hypnotic about the teamwork. Robin was brutal, the whole city knew the Robin that refused to surrender the title was the most vicious of all of them. But he was still the light touch compared to the brutal fists of Abuse. 

This wasn’t his first time seeing heroes fight up close, of course. Batman and Robin had once fought Two-Face at his tenth birthday party, when he’d wanted to go to a museum exhibit. They’d worked together like magic too. 

Maybe experience and comradery made the difference between this kind of fighting and the messy kind Terry was more familiar with when his own fists got involved.

“Hey.” A quiet voice said, and Terry jerked when he realized there was a presence right next to him. “Sorry, I’m trying to get the civilians out of here. Did you get gassed?” Terry shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the fight to see…

Um. 

“Superboy?!”

“It’s Superman, actually.” The visiting superhero corrected wearily. “Can I get you out of here?”

“Why aren’t you helping them?” Terry asked, gesturing to the fight. The fight that would be over by now if Superman had so much as sneezed on Scarecrow.

Terry hadn’t realized that Metropolitan heroes could roll their eyes. “Robin would stab me with his kryptonite dagger if I stepped in. And Abuse told me to stay outside and watch his bike .” Superman sounded annoyed, but also like he’d left a motorcycle unattended in Gotham. What a tourist move. “Anyways, can I get you out?”

“Uh - my brother is in the vents.” Terry said, since he’d rather Matt be in Superman’s custody than hanging out in the ventilation system with Scarecrow gas at play. 

“I’ll get you outside, then go get him. Promise.” Superman said, and Terry nodded. He found himself outside, clutching Matt and keeping an eye on the motor-tricycle for Abuse while Superman went back inside to save more civilians.

“Terry, why couldn’t we be saved by one of the cool heroes? This is your fault, you’re so lame.” Matt complained. 

Terry ruffled his hair roughly. “You’re too much of a twip, Robin and Abuse thought you needed a Metropolitan hero to play nice and smile at you.”

“Terry!” Matt whined.

Superman, carrying a crying woman out of the building, was definitely not smiling. Maybe he heard what Terry said? Eh. If he wanted to be fawned over, he was in the wrong city.

Chapter Text

“Oh jesus fucking christ, what the fucking hell happened to you? Was there a fight at the golf club?” Terry breathed, the front door of the manor still swinging shut behind him.

“Terry, please.” Bruce Wayne said, having the audacity to look impatient.

“Your face is fucked up - oh no, did you fall?” Terry realized, grimacing. Two nasty shiners, a fat lip and a broken nose - poor Mr. Wayne must have fallen forwards and not been able to break the fall. “Do you need help to sit down, Mr. Wayne?” He offered, dropping his backpack next to the door. 

“I’m fine.” Bruce growled, continuing on his way to the kitchen that Terry’s entrance had clearly disrupted. “Go do your homework.”

“I don’t have any tonight.” Terry lied, dogging the rich man’s steps. The evidence of why the Wayne children thought he needed a minder was stark right now. “Can I get you some tylenol or anything? You must have fallen on concrete or something.” Terry hissed sympathetically. 

“I didn’t fall.” 

Oh, this was sad. Terry watched Bruce go to start making coffee, and hurried to grab him a mug and the creamer from the fridge, actions that only made the other man’s forehead vein throb. 

“Look, Mr. Wayne, I understand that you’re embarrassed about all this. It’s natural. But I’m literally just here to help out, I’m not going to tell the tabloids or anything. Promise.” Terry reassured the older man, hovering nearby in case he needed any help with making coffee. 

“I was bouldering, if you have to know. Sit down, you’re in the way.” 

Terry winced at the clear lie, but let it go and sat at the counter. “Okay. Bouldering.” He said, deciding that it didn’t hurt anything to let him keep a bit of pride and not call out the lie.

For some reason, the irritation didn’t seem to die down at Terry’s seeming acceptance of the story.

“Y’know, when I broke my nose for the first time, I was embarrassed-” Terry started to say, and Bruce gave up on his coffee and left the room with a noise of disgust.

Terry brought him a coffee ten minutes later as the dour man watched a news program about some Justice League fight against some musclebound aliens. It had been easy to track him down, which just cemented that Terry was right to bring a pair of ibuprofen pills, that he laid wordlessly on the coffee table with the mug.

Terry settled in with his phone, letting the noise of the news wash over him as he desperately tried not to shatter the awkward silence with the question bouncing around his skull. 

It lasted a good seven minutes, but at the very moment a caped hero got nailed in the face by an alien weapon on the screen, Terry’s mouth opened up again. “So, how many other times when the news said you had a “sports injury” had you just fallen? No shame, I just… c’mon, this can’t be the first time.”

Bruce stared at him, and then rubbed his forehead. “I think I’d rather deal with Constantine right now.”

“I don’t know who that is.” Terry reminded him. He sometimes acted like everyone knew all of his rich asshole friends just because most of them were in celebrity news half the time. 

“Good, it would just make everything worse if you did.”

“Well now I feel like I’m not living up to my potential. Make me a list of everyone that annoys you, I’ll do a tour and train with all of them to hone my skills.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, tapped at his phone a few times and Terry felt his own vibrate. “Wha- you did not have a spreadsheet already made!” He opened the attachment, feeling his jaw drop as he scrolled down the incredibly long list. 

“I’m prepared for everything. Go on your grand tour, give me a moment’s peace.” Bruce gestured for the door, but there was no hope in his eyes that Terry had been sincere.

“This includes most of your children.” Looks like Cassandra was the favourite. “Luthor… that's fair. But isn’t Barbara Gordon the new head cop? I thought rich people loved the police.”

“She dumped Dick when they were younger.” Bruce shrugged, finally swallowing the pills and drinking some of the coffee Terry had brought him.  “And she’s nosy.”

Wow, petty. How was that enough to get on Bruce’s personal shit list? “Okay… You have a superhero on here? What did Booster Gold ever do to you?”

“He used and divorced poor Gladys. Nothing against the whole sugar thing, but it was just distasteful.” Bruce sniffed. “He was bankrupt, and used her wealth with no respect or attraction to the woman herself.”

“Yeah, that’s shitty.” Terry kept scrolling. Most of these names he didn’t recognize, and a few he recognized from the news or the sides of buildings. “My dad worked for this guy, Powers. He’s a creep.”

“Agreed. He sends me orange baskets every year in the holidays. No one needs a basket of oranges, do I look like I have scurvy?” Terry opened his mouth and Bruce raised his hand. “No, don’t. I know I walked into it, but I don’t want to hear it.”

Terry snickered. The list went on forever. Gardner, Jordan, Raynor…. Talia Al Ghul… wasn’t al Ghul a name that Damian had used publicly? Oof, Terry wasn’t touching that one, most people were annoyed with their exes. Amanda Waller…. “Hey, I made this list!” Terry beamed. 

“This isn’t a compliment.” Bruce said and Terry waved it away. 

“You’ve ranked me alongside Lex Luthor, your kids, and a bunch of rich assholes, this is hilarious. I love it. I wish the list was shorter so I could print it out for our fridge.”

“What did I do to deserve this? Why do my children hate me?” Bruce asked, and though Terry sensed this wasn’t directed at him, he shrugged and answered anyway.

“Have you thought about therapy?”

The look he got from Bruce Wayne was so affronted that Terry almost broke a rib laughing.

—

“Terry, I know you’ve hidden my alcohol, but that Kentucky Reserve whiskey was a present for someone, where is it?” Bruce asked another day, going through cabinets as Terry tried to understand polynomials. 

“I don’t know, I wasn’t hired to police your alcohol intake Mr. Wayne. I’m just here to ensure you eat one meal and if you fall over to make sure someone calls for help.” Terry said blandly, enjoying how far away Bruce was from the whiskey. He’d never gotten into drugs or anything, but he knew ‘it’s for a friend’ is one of the oldest lies when it comes to substance abuse.

Terry’s proud of the straight face he’s keeping at the sound of deep annoyance that his response garners. “This is my house, Terrence, I will find it.”

“Of course you will, Mr. Wayne.” No he won’t. 

Terry trailed along after his charge, leaving the math problems behind him. Mr. Wayne’s search was impressive. He didn’t forget to check the little places. He looked in vents, under beds, checked for newly installed false backs of drawers or cabinets. Even toilet tanks.

“Who’s this a present for, anyways?” Terry asked, as Bruce checked his third toilet tank of the evening.

“It’s a graduation gift for Damian.” Was grunted at him.

“Cool.” Terry dialed a number and held the phone to his ear. “Yeah, you were right, it’s for graduation. You’ll give it to him at the ceremony tomorrow with a card from Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce had gone stock still, staring at Terry. Terry’s lips were curling into a grin as he finished the call. “Yeah, thanks Mr. Grayson. Okay. Okay, bye.”

“My family is full of traitors .”

“Sorry, Mr. Wayne.” Terry said insincerely, patting him on the shoulder. “They all care about you though. How about we stop searching the toilets now?”

“Children are a mistake, Terry.” Bruce sighed, putting the lid of the tank back in place, looking defeated.

“Okay, Mr. Wayne.” All of his kids were full adults, but Terry let him have this one.

—

It had been a really nice day. The sky was only a little overcast, so it had been bright in the city, Terry had gotten an A on his English homework, and Bruce Wayne had been in a good mood for the past few days since his son Damian had finished his Master’s degree. Apparantly he was the first one in the family to finish university since Bruce himself. 

It couldn’t have lasted.

Terry had been lounging in his favourite sitting room, keeping a half ear out for Bruce having a sudden fall when the peace broke.

“DAD! DAMIAN’S TRYING TO KILL ME AGAIN!” 

Again?

Terry got up and poked his head out to see Tim Drake-Wayne striding into the Manor, Damian Wayne hot on his heels. Both were red in the face and looked dishevelled. 

“FATHER! DRAKE IS MALIGNING ME!”

“Oh my god,” Terry whispered, fascinated. This family was prone to drama but this screaming across the house level was unprecedented in his experience thus far. 

“Who’s bleeding?” Bruce asked when he appeared, giving both of them a once over. 

“He’s trying to give me a goddamn heart attack! I’ve put up with so much from him, since the day he got here, and this! This!” Tim wasn’t so friendly right now, he looked an inch from throttling the younger man. 

“Oh, grow up, Drake.” Damian sneered. “If I was going to try and kill you again, you know I wouldn’t be so weak as that.”

Again with the ‘again.’ The hyperbole was off the charts. 

“What exactly is happening?” Bruce asked, rubbing his temples. “And if we can keep the volume down please?” Oh shit, he had a hangover. Terry should tell Dick that Bruce had gotten drunk again.

“I have spent so much time preparing a role at Wayne Tech for this nepotistic farce of a child-” Tim was, in fact, not that quiet.

“You’re talking about nepotism? Timothy  Drake-Wayne ?” Damian scorned, putting extra emphasis on the hyphen. Also wasn’t quiet in the least. 

Poor Bruce.

“Shut up, Demon Brat, I’m explaining-

“I’m TWENTY-FOUR! Stop calling me that!”

“You’re a brat forever!”

Bruce whistled. Piercingly. Ow. “Boys. Report.”

Both of them stilled and crossed their arms in a simultaneous, sullen gesture. Creepy.

“Damian’s not taking the job at Wayne Tech he demanded that I have ready for him when he graduated.” Tim said, far more succinctly than he had said basically anything else up until now.

If Terry wasn’t 85% sure they weren’t aware he was there and listening in, he’d whistle. That kind of job security must be nice for rich kids.

“You’re… not?” Bruce asked, his surprise clear on his face. Damian didn’t answer.

“You came into this family screaming about your birthrights.” Tim needled him, glaring. “What-”

“I don’t want to anymore!” Damian burst out. “I was ten years old, Timothy, I’m sorry I thought I knew what I wanted. But I don’t! I don’t want to work in business, getting this degree has been miserable! It’s boring and trite and inconsequential! It means nothing!”

“Damian… you didn’t have to get this degree, I thought… I thought you wanted this.” Bruce said softly, moving closer to his youngest son. He stopped when Damian almost snarled at him. 

“You didn’t ask! I don’t want your company, and I don’t want-” Terry winced at how angry his tone was, and the movement must have drawn Damian’s eye, as there was sudden eye contact in that moment and Damian broke off his heated sentence. “I don’t want to be you, Father. Not in business, and not in life.” He said, finally at a normal speaking volume as he delivered the cutting words.

Both Bruce and Tim just stared at him, speechless. Damian huffed and turned on his heel and probably wouldn’t have admitted to fleeing the Manor - but that’s what he did, running from the eyes of his shocked family.

“Bruce… he didn’t mean it.” Tim said after a good minute.

“He did.” Bruce left the room. 

Tim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Good going, Tim.” He whispered to himself, sounding exhausted.

Terry maybe shouldn’t have watched all that.

–

Terry went to school the next day to find Damian Wayne standing outside, looking uncomfortable. 

“Allergic to public schools? I get it.” Terry greeted, shifting the weight of the backpack slung over his right shoulder.

“Ah. McGinnis. No, I… mostly don’t remember everyone looking so young when I was your age.”  Damian waved at the milling crowd of teenagers. “I’m glad I finished high school before this Jokerz thing took off, it’s… quite grotesque.”

“Yeah, they’re assholes.” Terry grimaced a little. Since it was a street gang, not too many people were being that blatant at school, but if you were looking for it you could see the bright colours, the polka dots, anything clownish and offputting that could be an accessory, was dotted amongst the crowd.

“Well. Not much we can do about it, I suppose.” Damian shook his head and focused on Terry. “The other day…”

“Hey, my lips are sealed, I didn’t tell your brother anything but that I think your dad had a hangover while you were talking. Terry said quickly, miming pulling his lips closed with a zipper. 

“Talking is a generous description.” Damian muttered and he wasn’t wrong. 'Shouting match' was probably more accurate. “But, we weren’t being very considerate of your presence.”

“Hey, I shouldn’t have been listening in, I didn’t realize it was… that intense. Uh. You okay?” Terry asked, feeling awkward about even asking. But Damian had seemed really intensely into his life path only a few weeks ago, and now he’d denounced his father and following in his footsteps.

“Of course I’m okay.” Damian scoffed, answering far too quickly to have given it any amount of thought. 

“Maybe you should hang out with your crew for a bit. Or just one of them if you can’t deal with the back and forth right now.” Terry suggested.

“My crew?” Damian looked perplexed.

“Uh- your… friends? Colin and Jon? The bickering duo?” Terry wasn’t sure when coaching Damian on talking to his friends became part of his job. He deserved a bonus, quite frankly.

“Bickering? Colin and Jon get on like a house on fire. You’re just used to the Metropolis/Gotham rivalry. They’re too mature for that.” Damian assured Terry. Terry met his eyes, searching for even the slightest hint that Damian was fucking with him.

Terrifyingly, the man seemed sincere.

“...Right. Those two have nothing to fight over at all. Just a burning house between them. That doesn’t know it’s on fire.” Terry mumbled that last part, but he wondered if that even mattered. Damian probably didn’t even realize that the two thought this particular house fire was hot.

“Well. I’ll probably talk it over with them. That’s not a… terrible idea. Now get to class, Terrence, your attendance record can’t take many more absences and tardies.” 

“Wha- I- I’ve been showing up regularly since I started working for your family!” How did Damian know ?

“It’s been two months, Terrence. Get moving.”

Sheesh.

Chapter Text

Bruce’s mood had tanked again. At some point, someone had given him Terry’s number, and he’d taken to texting him ad nauseum to get out of his house while giving him the run around so it was almost impossible to leave food where he’d eat it.

(Terry had started dividing dishes into smaller places and spreading them out through different rooms in the Manor that he thought Bruce might frequent while he was avoiding Terry. He was getting a moderately successful ratio of some of them being eaten.)

What that meant was, by the time Terry was home, his own mood was foul, and he wanted to play loud music and text Max and Dana. 

Instead, he opened the door to his mother sitting on the couch with a woman in a wheelchair next to her, chatting pleasantly. 

Oh shit, that was Barbara Gordon. 

“I haven’t done anything!” He blurted, mind racing as he tried to think of why the freaking police commissioner was in his house. He hadn’t done shit that was illegal, mostly. He hadn’t even stolen any of Bruce Wayne’s booze, he’d just smuggled it to Dick Grayson. 

There’d been… a few measly, tiny scuffles on the street, barely anything worth mentioning. That couldn’t be it. Could it?

“I have an alibi for the whole day!” He added. 

“And which day would that be?” Commissioner Gordon asked, with the same kind of amusement any corrupt GCPD officer had while asking leading questions to justify whatever arrest they wanted to make.

“All of them, because I’m innocent. And I want a lawyer. And get away from my mom!” His voice was raising, and his mom was scowling at him.

“Terry! We have company! Stop it!”

“That’s alright Mary. Terry, I’m not here to accuse you of anything.” Barbara told him in a calm, careful way, folding her hands over her lap.

Terry scoffed. Wasn’t that just like a fucking cop? No, she wasn’t going to accuse him, she was going to railroad him into incriminating himself. “I didn’t see anything either.”

“Well, Mary, I think you should get this boy to the optometrist,” Barbara said wryly. “He’s gone blind, it seems.”

Terry’s mom was rubbing her forehead. “Sweetie, please.” 

“Mom, c’mon.” She’d grown up in Gotham, she should know better than to let the GCPD just traipse through the house. “Tell her to get out-”

“Terrence McGinnis!” His mom interrupted sharply, slapping her leg. “Commissioner Gordon brought Matty back from where he’d got caught up in a crime scene at Gotham cemetery!”

“What?! Is he okay?” Terry’s defensiveness was forgotten in a moment, taking several footsteps closer to the two women, instead of lurking by the front door as he had been. A quick escape was no longer his priority - what had his eight-year-old brother been doing at the cemetery?

“He’s fine, no injuries at all,” the chief of the GCPD assured him quickly. “But I wanted to talk to both of you. John Constantine dropped him off with us.” That name sounded familiar, but Terry was focused on Matt right now, and what he’d missed while he was trying to manipulate a grown man into eating a meal. 

“There was a necromantic cult trying a rather large ceremony tonight, and I’m afraid they had a small coterie of children that were interested in helping out.” 

Terry gave up and sat on the couch next to his mom. “Matt was auditioning for a cult ?”

“I should have been stricter when I told him that seances weren’t real.” Mary sighed, and Barbara reached over to rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder. There was an understanding look that passed between them. This was Gotham, after all. “He just… wants to talk to his dad again so badly.” Mary said softly.

Terry knew that’s how it started, but he wasn’t sure that was it anymore. Not that he would admit that with a cop in the room. 

“This is a complicated city,” Barbara said carefully, and just as carefully ignored the snort of derision from Terry. “You’re not to blame for groups like this manipulating your young son. But you should probably have a talk with him and keep an eye on him. Constantine said he was very… resistant to being rescued.”

“Oh, I’m so-”

“No, no, he deserved getting bitten, never apologise for inconveniencing that man.” Barbara said quickly with a smirk. The smirk vanished after a moment. “But he also said that Matt might have an aptitude for this kind of thing. You might need to join a group like PFSK and get some help. I’ve got their card somewhere…”

As Barbara rummaged through her pockets, Terry had to ask. “PFSK?”

“Parents and Friends of Spooky Kids.”

God fucking damnit, he hated living in Gotham sometimes.

Barbara found the card with a little noise of victory and handed it over to Mary. “They’re very supportive and have great resources. My ex and his father joined it when the youngest in the family was about twelve. He wasn’t that spooky, but goth kids in Gotham are prone to spooky bullshit, so he decided to pre-emptively join, just in case.”

“...Damian Wayne?” Terry asked, remembering why Barbara was on Bruce’s list. “He was a spooky goth kid? He wears Armani.”

“How…? Well, honestly, Bruce was being a little reactive, he wasn’t exactly that goth. But it ended up with him providing extra funding for them, which helped them get a lot more established in Gotham.” Barbara was giving him an odd look. “Who told you I dated one of Bruce Wayne’s kids?”

“Oh, Mr. Wayne did. He was telling me about everyone that got on his nerves.” Terry felt his mom’s hands thwapping the back of his head lightly. “Mom! It’s true!”

“That’s still incredibly rude, Terry.” Mary told him with a frustrated sigh. She looked at the business card. “Thank you, Commissioner Gordon. I’ll look into this.”

“It’s Barbara, please. This all must be a lot for you.” Barbara’s tone was understanding and gentle, and something about it set Terry on alert.

“Thank you, Barbara.” Mary smiled.

“My ex is actually still in the group, if you want to talk about it more. I think Terry has his number. He joined to be supportive of his younger brother and is just… still in it. Honestly, he’s still one of my best friends, and he just likes supporting other people in crisis. He’s a soft touch.”

“Mr. Grayson? You got that right. How has he survived Gotham this long?” Terry asked, rolling his eyes with exasperated fondness.

“Money.” Barbara said simply and Terry hated that a cop could make him and his mother laugh that hard.

“Anyways, I’m sure you need to check in on Matt and talk this out. I should go. But first…” Barbara pulled out another card and shifted her wheelchair so that she was right in front of Mary. 

“I saw the Red Hood contact card on your fridge. I’m not mad; I know he’s a great resource for families that might have reason to distrust the GCPD.” To her credit, she didn’t even glance at Terry when she said this. 

“But I want you to have my card as well. You can call me when there’s a problem, with Matt or anything else. I’ll do my best to help. I’m committed to making the GCPD better.”

“Thank you, Barbara. I… appreciate that. I know you must have an incredibly hard job right now, I wouldn’t want to waste your time or anything.” Mary said, twisting her fingers together in a bit of anxiety.

“Mary, helping you could never be a waste of time.” Barbara put the card in Mary’s hands, letting her calloused palms rest on Mary’s manicured fingers, making deliberate eye contact. “Feel free to call if you just want to… oh, grab a coffee or something. I’ll make time for you.”

Terry’s mom blushed a dusky pink, and Terry’s jaw dropped. 

“I might do that.” Terry’s mom whispered, and Barbara’s fingers squeezed gently and let go.

“I really hope so. I’d love to get to know you better.”

And then the police commissioner of Gotham winked at Terry’s mother.

This was the worst day of Terry’s entire life.

–

“What’s gotten into you two?” Dana asked, sitting across from Terry and Max, both of whom had shoved their meal trays to the side and laid their heads on the outdoor picnic table. 

“The Waynes are nightmares.” Max groaned. 

“And that includes their exes.” Terry added.

He appreciated that his best friend was suffering with him. Apparently, Tim Drake was just as much of a nightmare right now. Max’s new intern job was involving a lot of working with him closely as he supervised several new projects, and before The Damian Thing happened, she’d been enjoying the hell out of it.

Dana shook her head as she started to eat her lunch. “Their… exes? Y’know what, I’m going to avoid taking up a job for this family, it sounds…”

“Exhausting?”

“Ridiculous?”

Terry and Max spoke at the same time. 

“If they don’t all get over this soon, I’m going to actually die,” Terry swore.

“Sheesh. Kids these days are so fragile.” Both Terry and Max blinked up at the new voice and Max flailed, almost falling backwards off the picnic table.

She would have fallen on the ground if a sturdy hand hadn’t caught her by the shoulder. 

Dana was fighting a losing battle against giggles. The pink-haired girl’s eyes were wider than dinner plates as she stared up at her saviour.

“Oh lord save me from baby lesbian crushes.” Kate Kane murmured, letting go of Max with a slightly awkward shoulder pat. “You’re Terry, right?”

Terry’s life was so goddamn weird. He nodded and Kate dropped a manila envelope in front of him. “Here’s the document you requested from the city council member.”

What the fuck was she talking about?

He stared at her in confusion, and the ghost-pale redhead rolled her eyes and refused to elaborate. “Good job keeping my cousin on the wagon, kiddo. It’s nice not being the only sober person in the family these days.”

God, he could see why Max was staring at the most famous lesbian in Gotham with stars in her eyes. She was really fucking cool. 

“Uh- just doing my job. Thanks for… making the meals for him?”

Kate paused for a moment and then nodded. “Yes. That’s what I do to help out with his sadly declining health. I cook. Because that’s a talent I’ve had my whole life.”

“You can do everything .” Max said reverently.

“ Okay , I’m getting out of here. You three… stay in school. Or something. Alright.”

She was gone as suddenly as she’d arrived and Max squealed. “She touched me! She looked at me! I can die happy now!”

“What document did you ask for, Terry?” Dana asked curiously. 

“I have no fucking clue what she was talking about,” Terry said, picking up the thin envelope, and opening it up carefully. “Oh! This is for you, Max.” 

He handed Max the autographed picture of Kate Kane and plugged his ears in self-defense from the even more high-pitched noise she made in response.

“What city council member got you that?” Dana asked curiously.

“Oh, Stephanie Brown, she used to date Max’s boss.”

“The Waffle Lady?” Dana asked, perking up. She’d also been a beneficiary of that unique campaign strategy.

“I got her autograph when I met her.” He bragged with a grin.

“...Well damn, maybe I will try to work for the Waynes after all.” 

–

“You don’t have to walk me home! I’m eight .”

“Twip, you tried to join a cult last week. And you’re eight .”

Matt crossed his arms and huffed. Terry tried not to laugh. His younger brother was extremely grounded, and their mom had not been amused to find a jar of dirt in his room and had promptly confiscated his graveyard dirt. This had resulted in a full room check last weekend and plenty of weird little baubles that had been put in a locked box in Mary’s room until she could go to a PFSK meeting and learn about what was safe to let him have and how to dispose of what wasn’t.

Matt had been in an intense mood ever since, and laughing would just set him off.

“I join one harmless club-”

“Cult.”

“ Club and you guys treat me like I’m in jail!”

“Man, I remember being in juvie, when Mom tucked me in at night and I went to my normal school every day and saw all my friends.” Terry mocked in a faux-nostalgic voice. “Man, I remember getting extra dessert and all the asshole guards loved hearing me complain!”

“Boo hoo, I’m Terry and I went to juvie for three months and now that’s my whole personality.” Matt mocked right back, dodging Terry’s hands when he reached out to grab the little gremlin. “What, it’s true!”

“You little-” Terry lunged again, and his misbegotten sibling had the audacity to laugh at him and run. 

Now, Terry lost track of a 55-year-old man on a regular basis, despite his best efforts. So he was determined not to lose track of his brat brother, who would never let him live it down.

“Matt, I’m going to be late to work!” Terry shouted in frustration.

“Bite me!”

Oh, see if he was getting a birthday present this year.

Unfortunately, Matt was short, slippery, and all too happy to get lost in Gotham. So it was twenty minutes of running through the streets, barely keeping an eye on him as they both darted around passersby, ducked under crime scene tape, and skirted Robinson Park.

They were running by the Iceberg Lounge when Matt was scooped out of the street by someone else, making Terry’s blood run cold. He’d never seen pictures of this man, but the mask was whispered about. Half black, half orange. 

That was a terrifying mercenary holding his little brother. 

Adrenaline flooded him. “Put him down right the fuck now!” He screamed.

“Is this yours?” Deathstroke the Terminator asked, his voice modulator betraying some amusement. “Letting him run loose like this in Gotham… anyone would think he was a street child. Maybe I should-”

“Slade.” An unamused voice cut in. “Give the child back.” Nightwing emerged from the Iceberg Lounge’s front doors, looking stern. 

Matt was lobbed through the air at Terry, who caught him and held him tight to his chest, despite his immediate squirming. “Terry, who’s that? He’s cool!”

“That- that’s Nightwing, twip.” Terry said, a little breathless from the force that he’d been hit in the chest by his younger brother, and from the frantic chase. 

“Not him, him !” Matt pointed at-

“ Matt .” Terry said, aghast. 

Nightwing sighed. “Keep track of your brother, kid. I’m taking Deathstroke away before he thinks he’s qualified to have a sidekick.”

“Your father got several killed, why am I disqualified?”

“You have to be kidding me.”

Their bickering faded fast as they used grappling hooks to ascend to the rooftops, and Terry tried to calm his frantically beating heart.

“Put me down already!” Matt insisted, and Terry just squeezed tighter.

“No. No, it’s bring suicidal little brothers to work day.” Terry wasn’t letting his brother out of his sight today, and Bruce Wayne could deal .

—

Matt was carried into Wayne Manor and deposited directly next to Bruce Wayne. Then Terry laid down in front of the door to the room, exhausted. Eight-year-olds were heavier than they looked, especially when they kicked, screamed, and bit at being carried.

“I’m begging neither of you to run for it. Please.”

“Never show weakness to the enemy, Terrence.”

“Mr. Wayne,” Terry rolled onto his side so he could stare at the older man. “Have pity.” 

The billionaire seemed to consider it.

Tugging on the sleeve of his suit to get his attention, Matt looked up at his brother’s employer to deliver what he felt was relevant information. “Terry says you’re an old fart and it’s funny to wind you up.” 

“I’m going to burn you at the stake as a witch when we get home.” Terry threatened, not liking the look on either of their faces.

“Well, we better go make the best of what time you have left.” Bruce Wayne said, looking down at Matt and taking his hand in his. “Want to escape through the window and go to Batburger?”

“Sure!” Matt beamed.

“Absolutely not,” Terry said, starting to push himself to his feet. “I’m supposed to make sure you both eat something healthy.”

“Well, Mr. McGinnis, I suppose you’ll have to catch us before we get there.” And with that, Matt was hoisted onto Bruce Wayne’s hip and they were out the window in what felt like a blink of an eye. Terry rushed for the window, leaning out of it in terror. They were fine, and Matt was pulling on his left eye with one finger and sticking out his tongue.

“Get back here! You’re a fall risk!”

–

Terry did not catch them before they’d half-finished their batmeals and Batburger. 

–

“Terry?”

“What do you want now, Mr. Wayne?”

“Could you read this number for me? I’m so old and my eyes don’t work so well.”

“...45.84?”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like $200 to me. Do you think the nice young people at the cash register undercharged me?”

“...I’m going home.”

“Terry, wait up!”

“No, you live with Mr. Wayne now, twip.”

“Terry!”

“I’ll tell Mom you said bye before Mr. Adoption bribed you with a burger.”

“Stooooop.”

“No, go back to your new dad.”

Terry left the Batburger with a younger brother clinging to his leg, and a billionaire trailing behind him. 

At least he seemed cheered up. 

Chapter Text

Terry was tired of entering Wayne Manor only to pause and see more people he didn’t know already. Could Dick never warn him once? Would it kill him to send a text message saying that one of his siblings and/or one of their exes were going to be there?

The three figures that had halted on their way towards the front door were definitely not siblings. He’d met all the surviving Waynes at this point, after all. A statuesque redhead, a guy who wore a trucker cap, and a man who had at some point seen a skunk and decided that was the hairstyle for him - Terry wouldn’t have blinked to have walked by them anywhere else in Gotham, but here in a rich old dude’s house, they stuck out just a bit. 

“Oh, you must be Terry! You’re adorable !” The tallest of the trio said, clapping her hands together. “You’ve been working so hard for one so young! It’s wonderful to meet you at last.” The extremely tall woman was beaming at him, and Terry vaguely remembered seeing ads featuring an alien model looking a lot like this woman, down to the extremely voluminous red hair.

“Star, relax, he’s been hanging out and eating free food, he’s not exactly doing hard labour.” One of her companions snorted, crossing his arms. He got a golden finger tapping his nose for his trouble.

“You of all people know how much trouble and frustration spending every day with Bruce Wayne can give you.” The model said teasingly, not bothered as her hand was swiped away. 

“You have all our sympathies for your troubles, kid.” The third man said with a laugh, holding out a hand that Terry took instinctively. It was hard, despite the colouring matching the man’s skin tone.

“The amount of people that know and care about this weird as hell job seems to grow exponentially. Who are you guys?” Terry addressed the question to the group, wondering why the only one with dark hair twitched at the question.

“I’m Koriand’r, I like to visit with Bruce sometimes - I’m Dick’s ex-fiancee.” The stunning alien model explained. 

“I’m Roy Harper, I was checking up on Bruce’s security system, I like to make sure everything’s in order. I’m also Dick’s ex.” Roy smirked a little bit at the expression on Terry’s face.

“What is with him and redheads?” Terry blurted out, not exactly meaning to.

Roy laughed, and Kori gasped a little and asked “oh, have you met Wally already?”

“There’s another ?!” Terry needed to make sure Dick didn’t get into the same room as his mother again. Barbara was bad enough.

All three of them laughed. Finally, the one with a skunk stripe volunteered his identity. “I’m Jay, I’m his AA sponsor. He can’t do the meetings, so I come here to talk to him about his serious alcohol problem.

Oh, that was good! Stephanie Brown had mentioned wanting him in AA.

“....And?” Terry asked, waiting for the second part, where he was informed of Jay’s past romantic entanglement with the Wayne family. Probably with Dick, just going by how many of the exes’ he’d met thus far had been Dick’s exes. 

“...And what?” The solidly built man’s face was blank, confusion in his eyes. His companions were holding back laughter though, so he just must be a little slower on the uptake.

Terry sighed. “What’s your romantic entanglement with the Wayne family you’re going to allude to despite me really not needing to know?” The man blanched like it had been hard to guess. “You dated Mr. Grayson, like these two? Mr. Drake-Wayne, like Ms. Brown? Clearly really want to Date mini-Mr. Wayne like Jon and Colin do?”

“Ooh, they get first-name treatment,” Roy whispered to Kori loud enough that Terry could still hear him.

“I don’t work for their families until they marry in.” Terry retorted, rolling his eyes. 

“So polite.” Kori cooed.

Jay looked like someone had hit him with a frying pan.

Terry was almost relieved. “You can just not tell me, that’s honestly great, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah Jay, keep your shameful secrets about which Wayne you wanted to boink.” Roy chimed in, like an asshole. 

“None of us will force you to share your secrets with the child.” Kori said solemnly, but something in those solid green eyes made him suspect she was being an asshole too. Was that just Dick’s type?

Jay made an incoherent sound that Terry was hard put to describe. It was high-pitched like a tea kettle, but sounded like fury and horror at the same time. The poor guy was going tomato red.

“Yeah, I really don’t want to know, do I? I’m going to go make sure Mr. Wayne hasn’t made a run for it and stop thinking about this terrible mystery.”

Terry almost made it out of the room when Jay finally erupted with coherence. “ FUCK NO! ”

Koriand’r and Roy clearly thought this was hilarious.

Terry thought he was being dramatic. Sheesh, it wasn’t that embarrassing to have dated a member of Gotham’s favourite family.

–

“Terry, it was barely a finger of whiskey. It’s not that - stop texting Dick.” Terry did not, in fact, stop texting Dick, standing next to the sink he’d just dumped the tumbler of alcohol out in. 

“You don’t know who I’m texting. I’m really disappointed in you, Mr. Wayne. I know your AA sponsor was just here.” Terry tutted, not looking up at the older man as his thumbs moved over his smartphone until he’d sent the message.

“I-” He looked up, seeing the older man spluttering, looking confused. Probably he hadn’t realized he’d met the trio on their way out the other day. “You know what?”

“I met Jay, Mr. Wayne.” Terry said patiently.

“...Jay. Right.” He still seemed perplexed. Terry rolled his eyes but was distracted by his phone buzzing.

With a sudden smirk, he obediently read the message out. “Dick says he expected better of you.”

Bruce sighed loudly and buried his face in his hands. 

–

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear yourself talk. The lights were low, and the crowd was in good spirits. Dana and Terry had been dancing for what felt like hours. 

He was breathless when she pulled him off the dance floor, finding a convenient spot on the wall. Dana gave him a few seconds, and then her arms were around his neck and she was pulling him down for some well-deserved kisses.

Finally, he’d had another day off, and he was filling his free evening with hedonism and quality time with his girlfriend. Dana had been very accommodating with the dearth of dates since he’d gotten this job, so the moment he got the memo that he’d be free, he’d called her. This was their second club tonight. 

When they came up for air, he saw her lips moving, but the words were lost to the sheer noise. He chuckled and towed her out of the nightclub, “What was that?” He asked once the din of the hot and heavy nightclub had been left behind. 

“I think it’s time to find another club.” She told him archly, making him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” A totally different voice asked, and Terry’s amusement drained as he spotted a figure in a purple suit with a green pompadour of hair. “C’mon, it’s not very fun not to share the joke. ”

Terry shifted so he was in front of Dana. “Nothing’s funny, buzz off.”

“What about a buzzer instead?” Asked another new voice, this one belonging to a larger black guy with green dreads and the tiniest bowler hat. Terry bit back a curse as more Jokerz melted out of the Gotham shadows, eyes alight with malice.

“Buzzer?”

“I barely know ‘er!” 

Twin girls in cheap red wigs chirped, to a chorus of general laughter.

“Dana, I’m going to draw their attention, you gotta get out of here.” Terry murmured, feeling Dana’s hand in his shirt.

“Terry, you can’t take all of them.” She whispered urgently.

“Go get help then.”

“He’s such a hero .” A girl in an ugly polka dot shift sighed melodramatically.

“Let’s give him something to regret being one.” The length of chain dropping from the purple suit sleeve looked like it was going to hurt. 

“Sounds like fun, J-Man.” A bald behemoth in a tattered black and red get up growled and lumbered forwards.

“Dana, go!” Terry didn’t wait any longer, pulling away from her and sneering. “I’m not a fucking hero, I don’t need to be one to show you bozos how pathetic you are.

The big guy aimed a blow, but Terry dodged it, grabbing the outstretched arm and flipping him onto the street behind him. 

He hoped Dana had fled, because the gang was on him then. It was chaos and pain. Jeers and crude jokes interspersed with grunts and snarls. Terry could barely keep track of what was happening in the fight, as he got hit and landed blows alike. 

“Chucko!” Someone called and then Terry was stumbling backwards, his face throbbing in pain from the punch that had just flattened his nose. There was blood in his mouth. The masked clown goon was laughing at him, and Terry’s blood was boiling. Even the iron taste in his mouth felt hot.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye, and Terry dove to avoid a kick to the face from one of the twins. He snatched up a half-rotten splintery piece of wood from the ground - Gotham always had some kind of refuse. 

Surging from his place, he didn’t wait for another attack to come his way, but clubbed the first clown he could reach, the subpar piece of wood falling to pieces as the pink polka dot clown staggered back. Great. 

“Get it babe!” Someone shouted with a wolf whistle. If that was a joke, he didn’t get it.

There was no time to figure it out. Terry felt chain wrap around his other hand, his whole body jerked back hard to force him closer to J-Man, who had a wolfish grin. The grip of the chain on his wrist hurt , but Terry just gritted his teeth. “You still haven’t told me the joke.” The leader said with a laugh of his own. 

Before Terry could say anything in response though, a dark red boot slammed into the side of the clowns face, the chain suddenly slack and falling off his arm. 

“C’mon dude, get back to the fight, or get out of the way!” The owner of the boot snapped. Terry barely had time to absorb the sight of blue hair and piercings before they’d whirled and tackled the clown with a tiny bowler hat. 

Well, he wasn’t going to back down . 

“Don’t let that skinny kid punch out more clowns than you!” Hollered the voice that he’d heard earlier, which definitely didn’t belong to the mystery blue-haired person. Great. They had a heckler.

Blood poured down his chin from the broken nose, and Terry ignored it, grabbing and yanking on the red and black clown cap another idiot wore, pulling it over his face to blind him. Then he grabbed one of the arms reaching out blindly to attack him and twisted to hear a satisfying snap and cry of pain. 

“Oh sick !” Their heckler congratulated.

“Terry!” Dana cried. “Look out!” 

Dana wasn’t safely away, she was nearby. Panic gripped him and instead of looking for the threat she warned him about, he looked for her. She was standing next to a Latina woman in her early twenties, who was holding Dana back from running to Terry and the fight. Her green eyes met his and he heard the heckler’s voice when she shouted “Behind you, moron!”

Chain wrapped around his neck this time and he was yanked back, ending up on his back in the middle of a street fight, staring up at the vicious J-Man’s grin. And then he was staring at the boot being raised to smash down on Terry’s head. He rolled out of the way, the heel of the boot striking the side of his head without the full force that had been intended to slam down onto him. Still hurt though.

“Fuck.” He choked out, grabbing at the chain around his neck, only to feel it tighten even more as J-Man hauled back on it. 

“Again? My dude, sideline yourself with our girlfriends.” He vaguely heard as there was the sound of a heavy object slamming into meat and the chain went slack again. This time, Terry didn’t let it slither off, and yanked it back. Unwinding it from his neck, he wound it around his fist, holding onto it tightly as he forced himself back up to his feet.

“Babe!” The cry from the sidelines came, and Terry looked to the woman who’d saved his butt twice now and spotted the sister clowns coming up from behind her where she stood panting over J-Man’s unconscious form. 

He literally threw himself at one of them, tackling her to the ground and slamming his chain-wrapped fist into her face before she could say a word.

“Dee-Dee!” The other one abandoned the attempted sneak attack when her sister went down, lunging at him with her nails aimed at his eyes. He blocked the attack with an arm, knowing her nails had drawn blood. “How dare you!”

He didn’t bother answering, just hauled back and slammed a blow into her stomach that left the imprint of chains and had her doubled over and vomiting up rainbow chunks. 

At this point, he felt a hand on his arm, yanking him up, and he almost attacked before he realized it was his mysterious ally.

“The rest are running, but let’s get away from this mess.” She told him, and he nodded in agreement as they moved towards their girlfriends.

“Terry! Are you okay?” Dana asked, moving to his side and pulling his arm over her shoulder so she could take some of his weight. 

“Yeah. You alright?”He asked her. Dana nodded. Terry turned his attention to the other two. 

“Babes, that looked fun, we should pick more fights in Gotham. Maybe ones I can join in on next though.” Despite her flippant words, the brunette was checking over her girlfriend, her hand carding through dark blue hair and checking over for injuries.

“ Milagro .” 

“Let’s keep moving.” Dana urged.

They found a quiet alley a block or so down from the club, and Terry was able to lean his weight against the wall and take stock of the situation.

Dana seemed untouched, just worried.

Terry had tacky blood drying on his face and a nose that was probably broken, as well as painful red marks on his neck and arm that would probably turn into hideous bruises. Not to mention the headache. 

And as for their companions…

Milagro wasn’t fussing over her partner as much now, was instead placing herself between the mouth of the alley and the rest of them, like she was some kind of guard. Her girlfriend was wrapping some bandage around her bloody knuckles - had she just had that on her? 

“I’m Terry McGinnis - this is Dana Tan.” He introduced himself, gesturing to his girlfriend who was still hugging his side. “Thanks for helping out.”

“Don’t mention it, I was spoiling for a fight. I’m Lian Harper, this is my girlfriend Milagro Reyes. Those Jokerz are obnoxious, aren’t they? I would’ve thought Gotham was glad to leave clowns in the past.” Lian was part asian, her face and ears were pierced everywhere that Terry thought they could be, and there was something about her that felt dangerous. Maybe it was simply that she’d come out relatively unscathed from a 20 to 2 fight which had Terry more than a little banged up.

That name sounded familiar… why? 

“There’s always going to be idiots who think that it’s cool to be an asshole, to look back at monsters in our past and act like them.” Dana said with disgust. “The Joker’s dead, but he’ll never leave Gotham.”

Terry reached over to touch her hand. Her mother had been killed in one of the Joker’s gas attacks. “You okay?” He asked softly.

“I’m fine, just… Obnoxious is a good word for them. You’re the one I’m worried about. We should get you to the Leslie Thompkins Memorial Clinic.” Dana fussed. 

“We can walk you guys there.” Milagro offered. “Lian’s dad is doing some volunteer work there tonight for the harm reduction program.”

“...Wait, like… Roy Harper?” Terry asked, remembering the trucker hat.

“Yeah? You know my dad?” Lian seemed surprised by that fact.

“Yeah, I met him at work the other day. He used to date my employer?” Lian’s eyes narrowed, suspicion suddenly on her face.

“In Gotham? Who?”

“Uh… Grayson?” Terry winced, trying not to say that he worked for the Wayne family directly too loudly in an alley in Gotham.

Lian looked more confused. “My Dad dated Uncle Dick?”

Milagro interrupted then. “As fascinating as I find the possibility that your dad’s dick knows your Uncle Dick… We should get moving to the clinic. You guys go first, we’ll follow you since we’re in better shape. 

Terry groaned as he pushed off the wall. He couldn’t wait to put down the stupid chain, but until they were safely at the clinic, it was probably best to hold onto it. 

From behind, he heard a fragment of Milagro’s hushed words to Lian.

“....can’t say he’s dating right now.”

Maybe he had a concussion because he couldn't think of any reason why a guy who used to date his boss would lie about his current relationship to someone else.

At least the clinic wasn’t far away.

Chapter Text

“Pumpkin!” 

“ Dad .”

Roy Harper hugged his daughter as she squirmed in embarrassment, a far cry from the street-tough punk who’d kicked serious ass tonight. “Who’d you beat up today? Not poor Terry, I hope, he suffers enough as is.” 

Terry, sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the hallway and freshly bandaged, rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what the Wayne family puts me through.”

Roy’s brown eyes danced with amusement, as if he had any way to know what hell Bruce Wayne inflicts on his poor teenaged minder. “Uh huh. Dick does keep me abreast of some of it.”

“Yes, your ex, Dick Grayson.” Lian says, words pointed in some way Terry doesn’t understand. Is she that invested in who her dad used to fuck? Personally, Terry didn’t know any of his Dad’s exes other than his Mom, and vice versa.

“My… yes, right. Are you upset I didn’t regale you with tales of our torrid romance?”

“Eugh, disgusting.”

Roy laughed and tousled his daughter’s hair as Terry sighed and leaned back.

Milagro was walking Dana home, as her father had heard about the fight and gotten worried about her. So Terry was here, waiting to confirm if his wrist was sprained or broken, before he could go home and get lectured by his mother.

He was so lucky Bruce Wayne was still out of town. Dealing with him tomorrow would be hell.

The clinic was quiet, at least.

It took another five minutes for that to change. Nightwing limped into the clinic, leaning on the form of Robin. The latter looked incredibly irritated. “You’re so heavy, old man.”

“Old? Old?!” Nightwing repeated, offended. 

Robin just exhaled loudly and manoeuvred the blue-clad hero into a chair near Terry’s. “Stay. I’ll go get some bandages to wrap that ankle, we don’t need to waste the time of the nurses here.” 

Robin’s eyes flicked over Terry, as if assessing him for danger, and a muscle in his jaw jumped before he strode away. He didn’t even look at Lian like that, and she definitely looked just as much like a delinquent as he did! Rude.

“So… what’re you kids in for?” Nightwing drawled after a moment, eyes bouncing between Lian and Terry. “It’s a school night, isn’t it?”

Lian rolled her eyes. “Your town is full of dirty night clowns.”

“Deep cut.” Nightwing approved. 

“The Jokerz are assholes.” Terry added as more of an actual explanation. He didn’t want the heroes to be suspicious of them. Maybe Lian was on her way back out of town soon, but he lived here. “Lian pitched in when they were ganging up on me.”

“He means I saved his butt.” Lian corrected smoothly and smirked at him as he glared. 

“Tt, please. Like the evidence of his struggle isn’t all over him.” Robin said as he returned, sitting near Nightwing and allowing the older hero to swing his leg onto his lap. 

That was kind of gratifying, actually. 

“Police picked up 13 Jokerz by the Dahl Nightclub tonight.” Nightwing said leadingly and Terry nodded to confirm. “I’m impressed. Good job.” Terry knew he’d been talking to both of him and Lian, but it had seemed like he was talking directly to him, and a slight blush was rising in his cheeks.

“Don’t encourage children fighting in the streets, Nightwing.” Roy spoke up, his stern tone and expression not quite meeting his eyes. Terry supposed it wouldn’t since he hadn’t so much as scolded Lian about the fight. So his disapproval was just about Terry - and Lian looked to be only a few years older, so that was kind of hypocritical. Rude, actually.

“Yeah, yeah.” Nightwing waved the concern away, hissing as Robin started to bind up the ankle. “Hey, not so tight!”

“You want your ankle supported, don’t you? Don’t complain.” Robin was such a hardass, it was great. He’d never realized that before.

“It’s kind of fucking weird.” Terry murmured, and then blanched when four curious gazes locked on him. “Uh- sorry, didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“What’s weird?” Lian asked, not willing to let it go.

“It’s dumb.”

“You’re not old enough to remember Nightwing’s first costume, are you?” Roy asked, ignoring the yelp of affront from the hero. “Now that was dumb. No offense, Mr. Nightwing.”

“Calling me ‘mister’ doesn’t make that less rude, civilian boy.” Nightwing growled.

“It had a v neck.” Robin told Terry with a smirk. “And a collar so tall-”

“So what’s weird, Terry?” Nightwing interrupted the fashion critique quickly, to a huff of amusement from the overgrown bird.

“I just have lived in Gotham all my life, and I’ve never had so many close encounters with vigilantes. Like, talking to them close. Robin and his friends saved my brother and me, you’re here now, the Red Hood visited my house, and you and Deathstroke the other day… It’s just intense.”

“...Deathstroke, huh?” Roy repeated blandly. 

“I hadn’t realized he was in town.” Robin said in an even tone, making Nightwing laugh a bit nervously before wincing as Robin finished off the ankle wrap even tighter.

Terry looked at Lian, at a loss for how to react to how weirdly the other two were reacting to what he’d said. She reached out and patted his shoulder. “It’s easier to fight Gotham street gangs than it is to deal with vigilantes. They’re in and out of Dad’s and my life because of how hard he works on harm reduction and getting drugs off the street. They’re all terrible.”

“Well, they can’t be worse than the Wayne family.” He told her with a laugh, and she let out a high-pitched giggle of surprise at the comparison he drew. 

–

Good news: His wrist was only sprained. 

Bad news: He looked beat to hell. Two black eyes, a swollen lip and his neck and forearm sported matching deep blue-black bruises in the pattern of the chains that had wrapped around them. 

Worse news: The Waynes had found out somehow, and they were inescapable. 

Barbara Gordon had been at his home when he’d finally gotten back, escorted by Lian and Milagro.

(He still wasn’t over Milagro’s cheerful description of how she related to the Wayne family. The sister of the godson of a guy who had once sexted Barbara Gordon. Ridiculous.)

Barbara had been giving his mother the details of what the GCPD knew of the Jokerz incident, and also holding her hand in a despicable attempt to seem comforting. It was mortifying for Terry to be clutched by his mother with the police commissioner right there.

The next morning, his phone was loaded with concerned messages from Dick Grayson, all of which went unread.

Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake were waiting outside his school with Max, who looked deeply embarrassed. There was a small crowd watching them, and they seemed to barely notice. Stephanie pinched his cheek and cooed about how brave he was and Tim had not-so-subtly taken pictures of this humiliation.

Cassandra Cain was coincidentally (?) at the coffee shop he and Dana went to after school. She hadn’t approached him at least, but made eye contact, and gave him a thumb’s up. Maybe this was why she was the favourite? 

Damian had been on his bus ride home. Terry would bet good money he’d never been on public transportation before this moment. He stood in the centre aisle, trying not to touch any of the seats. Similar to his sister, he simply looked Terry over, gave him a nod, and then left the bus at the first opportunity.

And besides the Waynes, other people seemed to have heard and, for some reason, gave a shit. 

That afternoon the Red Hood had been lurking by their front door, blatantly checking Terry’s wounds and handing him a knuckle duster. “In case they target you after this. Fucking creepy-ass gang. I don’t intend to let them stay in my territory long, believe you me.” 

Kate Kane ordered him a pizza. 

Abuse had punched out the Jokerz who had run away from the tail end of the fight - he knew that because the pictures had popped up on his social media as he’d scrolled through while eating the pizza.

His life had gotten so bizarre over the last few months.

It was a little embarrassing that it took until he’d been falling asleep for the night to realize something. He sat up in bed, remembering that Nightwing had called him by his first name when he’d been at the clinic.

Terry was positive that his name hadn’t once been mentioned in front of the hero pair of Nightwing and Robin

What the fuck .

–

What were you supposed to do when a superhero inexplicably knew who you were? The question bothered him all throughout the next day.

No answers came to him. Maybe Nightwing kept tabs on juvie hall alumni? 

It wasn’t like he could ask the man. The frustrating mystery weighed on his mind as he texted Dick Grayson, confirming when Bruce would be back in town.

–

“Terry! Was there a fight at the golf club?!” Was Bruce Wayne’s first words upon seeing him. He had to be the oldest twelve-year-old in the world. Terry rolled his eyes as much as he could with how swollen his face was. 

“Do you think you’re funny?” He grumbled, pulling at the neckline of his shirt, trying to keep it from creeping up on the aching bruises.

“My children have repeatedly informed me that I’ve had my sense of humour surgically removed,” Bruce said wryly. “So I suppose I’m being utterly serious.” He got up from the desk and approached Terry. 

Getting a better view of the bruising, there was a sympathetic hiss before he held out a bottle of ibuprofen. 

“I suppose I should see the other guy?” Bruce’s dumb quip made Terry crack a smile before taking the bottle and popping two pills without bothering to get a cup of water.

“Try the other five guys.” 

Bruce chuckled at that, and Terry’s small smile grew a little bit more. “I take it you won’t be having your fries jokerized for a while?”

“Like hell I’d let those assholes ruin Batburger.” Terry rolled his eyes. “Are you going to take advantage of my weakness and run off again?”

“Mm. Probably.” Bruce hummed, gently patting Terry on the shoulder as the teenager leaned his head back and groaned. “How about we put on a movie to distract you so I can make my escape?”

“Who’s babysitting who here?” Terry groused, even as he followed Bruce to the living room with the massive television screen. 

“You know that Clark has been referring to you as the nanny to all of our mutual friends, right?” Bruce said with only a hint of sourness to his tone. 

“I’d say sorry, but the idea that a group of rich assholes call me the Wayne Nanny is hilarious.” Terry was in no way apologetic. “If you’re mad at anyone, it should be Mr. Grayson, anyways. This was all his idea. Why don’t you just tell him to buy a Life Alert bracelet and promise to eat a meal every day?”

“That sounds like coddling the boy.”

“...Mr. Wayne, he’s forty.”

“I don’t understand your point.”

“So,” Terry said after a moment, recalibrating an earlier claim he had made. “When I said Tim was your least weird child, I guess I really mean the least weird out of the entire Wayne family and all your friends and exes.”

“It’s mostly Dick’s exes you’ve been subjected to so far.” Bruce waved a hand.

Subjected to? So far?

Terry decided not to push it.

“So what’s this?” He asked as Bruce slid a disc into some antique device sitting under the screen. The screen had a static image of an older man in goggles and an old-fashioned detective look, with four selectable buttons on the screen. ‘Play’, ‘scenes’, ‘special features’ and languages.’ He would have assumed Bruce Wayne could afford streaming services.

“You don’t know the Gray Ghost? Maybe I won’t make a daring escape after all, I need to make sure the youth learn some culture.” Bruce closed the case he got the disc out of and moved to sit in a chair, using a remote to click ‘play.’ “This show is one of the building blocks of modern Gotham.”

“Alright, old man, cool it with the sales pitch already. I’m watching.”

It wasn’t half-bad, really. Terry watched several episodes with Bruce Wayne, laughing at cheesy jokes, guessing some of the mysteries before the titular character figured them out, poking fun at how old-fashioned most of it was. He didn’t realize he’d been dozing off until he woke up hours later, a dark grey blanket tucked around him, and a blue oval bouncing around the television screen.

Chapter Text

Terry woke up to the sound of shouting, but it was more distant than if it had been his mom and Matt arguing about whether athames counted as knives. Terry groaned and turned over, but the sound kept filtering into his room. 

He should have known better than to leave a window cracked open to catch a breeze.

Terry opened bleary eyes and pushed himself out of bed. He yawned so widely his jaw ached, and stumbled to the window.

“-hanging around his apartment like a creep?!”

“Like you can talk!”

Well, he’d meant to close the window and go back to bed, but few Gothamites actually avoided witnessing a Bat Domestic fight, so long as they were out of the way. He could just barely catch sight of costumed figures on a nearby roof, a few stories lower than the one he lived in.

It looked like Robin and… Terry squinted, trying to make his eyes focus through the sleep in them.

He really was becoming a magnet for weird shit these days. “Redtirement Robin.” He murmured. 

The vigilante still went by ‘Red Robin’, but he had shown up significantly less in public in the ten years since the Joker died.

The two talked quieter for a bit, and Terry couldn’t make out any of the words. Their arms were moving emphatically though. 

He wondered who they were stalking.

“Shut up!” Terry froze in place. That was Robin , and he’d never heard him like that, not on any of the newscasts or videos people posted online. Angry, but upset, frustrated and not in control. “Just shut up! All I meant was that I don’t want to be BATMAN ! I thought you’d understand, but apparently if a ten-year-old wants to do something with his life, well, that’s it! Locked and loaded, that’s his life path, and fuck him if he wants to grow up at all! Maybe I should shove you off this roof while we’re at it!” 

Terry didn’t want to see Robin murder anyone tonight. He held his breath.

“You could talk to us! We’re brothers! Stop acting like I betrayed you because I can’t read your demented little mind!”

“Sure! Because we talk so much in this family!”

“It would be nice!”

They were so close to each other, and Terry couldn’t breathe. 

“Fine!” Robin shouted, and his voice was ragged as he raged. “I don’t want to be Batman, I don’t want your day job, I don’t want anything my parents expect from me, I’m just a disappointment! I don’t even know what I do want, I just know what I don’t! Are you happy now, usurper?!” 

Robin shoved Red Robin, and Terry let out a noise of panic - but the older hero grabbed Robin in a hold and didn’t let go. A hold that clearly turned into a hug before too long, and their voices were yet again, too quiet to hear.

Terry let out his breath in a whoosh and felt like he could move again. Damn. Life crises over what you’re going to spend your life doing was a contagious problem, it seemed. First Damian Wayne, now Robin.

He closed the window and went back to bed. If Robin the no-longer-a-Boy Wonder didn’t know what he wanted to do, how could anyone else be expected to?

Terry was glad he was just going to find some meaningless job that had a decent wage. It was a much simpler plan than finding a passion or trying to live up to either of his parents’ careers.

–

“Please leave.” Terry heard Bruce Wayne plead, his voice thin and exhausted. 

Terry had just gotten to the Manor, dumped his bag in his usual hangout space, and gone to make sure that Bruce hadn’t made his escape before Terry walked in the door. 

Not wanting to interrupt, he peered around the half-open door to see if this was a Wayne visitor or something he needed to be concerned about.

“Bruce, I just want to spend time with you. I can be discreet.” The speaker was over 6’ tall, with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and wearing a suit. What did ‘discreet’ mean? Oh god, Terry knew Bruce used to sleep around, he just wasn’t prepared to actually deal with it.

“You absolutely cannot.” Bruce disagreed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was sitting at his desk, looking like he hadn’t slept much. His …friend? …was standing next to him rather than in front of the desk.

“We don’t have a lot of time left, Bruce. I’d like to have some good memories of our time together before…” The woman sounded heartbreakingly sad.

“I’m not dying , Diana!” Bruce said sharply, and Diana crouched next to him, trying to take his hands in hers despite him pulling them away.

“Clark said-”

“Clark thinks this is funny-”

“Richard said-”

“Terry!” Bruce seemed to spot him for the first time and looked relieved. “My deeply appreciated aide! Please help show Ms. Prince to the door.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said you appreciated me,” Terry said with a little smirk.

Diana tutted. “You promised you’d do better at communicating with your children, Bruce.”

“Why does everyone think you’re adopting me, Mr. Wayne?” 

“Pattern recognition.” Diana said as Bruce made a face. 

“He has a mother, Diana.”

“Timothy had both parents, Bruce .”

Well, it was clear that they were friends at this point, so Terry felt comfortable abandoning Bruce to his smothering. “I’m afraid guest escort isn’t one of my jobs, Mr. Wayne, good luck convincing Ms. Prince that you’re not dying.”

“Thank you- what happened to your face?! ” Ms. Prince seemed to actually look at him for the first time and straightened in alarm.

“Ah- nothing, just a fight.” Terry said, confused and alarmed by the sudden attention. “Go back to focusing on Mr. Wayne’s encroaching mortality.”

“Terry, I’m 55.”

“Bruce, have you not taught him anything yet?” Diana said, swatting his shoulder. “Poor child, come and sit.”

“No, I’m good, I’ve got like… homework.”

“Sit.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Terry found himself sitting on the comfortable chair opposite Bruce. He hadn’t folded so easily to an authoritative voice since kindergarten. 

“I’m going to get you both a glass of milk. It helps bones to grow and also not become brittle. Stay .”

Diana strode out of the room, and Terry locked eyes with Bruce. “Milk for both of us?”

“She’s worried about my bones. And you’re… growing?” Bruce sighed and started to go through his paperwork. “It’s too late to regret your choice now, you lost us the chance of getting her out without inexpert mother henning.”

“There’s a window.” Terry pointed out.

Bruce snorted. “We’d never make it.”

“...Sorry, what?” This from the man who would cling to the wall of his house to avoid him? What made him think that the somewhat tall, authoritative woman could stop him? “ Who did she used to date, exactly?”

“Not all of my friends and acquaintances dated someone in the family, Terry.” Terry leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. Bruce’s lips twitched at the attempt to wait him out.

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll ask Dick.” Terry gave in when there was no sign of weakness. 

“You know you don’t need to know everything about everything going on around you.” Bruce told him pointedly, to rich laughter from the doorway.

“He’s taking after you already.” Diana said, placing glasses of milk before each of them. 

“I’m not getting adopted.” Terry objected. “His milk is just milk, right? Not a white russian or something? He promised Mr. Grayson he'd be sober.”

“Yes, just milk - but you’re not drinking, Bruce?” Her surprise turned to disapproval immediately. “Except the other night you and Oliver were drinking at our meeting.”

“Mr. Wayne!” 

“It was one glass. You’re both overreacting.”

Terry narrowed his eyes. “That’s where it starts, Mr. Wayne. Kate was so proud of you getting on the wagon with her, and this is the second time this week.”

“Don’t worry, child, I will make sure that I keep an eye on your..." Diana hesitated on what word to use before saying, “charge and make sure that he doesn’t indulge any further during our meetings. Alcohol has many health risks, Bruce!”

“Thank you,” Terry said, before pushing Bruce’s milk closer to him. “Drink up, it’s good for your bones.” 

Bruce was grinding his teeth so hard he was going to need to buy a new set. 

“I appreciate your concern, both of you-”

Diana interrupted. “Good, then drink your milk. I don’t want you getting osteoporosis.” Bruce narrowed his eyes but drank the milk, glaring at Diana the entire time.

Terry wasn’t that shocked when Dick confirmed that Bruce and Diana had dated.

–

To Weird Dick: I think this “Oliver” is a bad influence on your Dad.

From Weird Dick: That you know this without meeting him is a delight. Are you sure you’re not adoptable?

To Weird Dick: Your family has an adoption problem.

From Weird Dick: It’s only a problem if there are complaints! 

To Weird Dick: How do I submit a formal complaint?

From Weird Dick: You’re not adopted, you have nothing to complain about yet.

To Weird Dick:  Yet????

Chapter Text

“I’unno boss, ain’t the youngest Wayne less pale than this?”

“If it’s hanging ‘round Brucie, has black hair and blue eyes, it’s probably one o’ his kids.”

This is why Terry didn’t want to be adopted. Bruce Wayne was slumped over and unconscious in front of him, hands tied behind his back. Terry had his mouth gagged and his hands tied behind him as well, but was awake and glaring daggers at the group of kidnappers.

‘Come shopping with me Terry’ Bruce Wayne had said. ‘You can drive the car’ Bruce Wayne had said.

He’d barely gotten to speed at all, this was so unfair.

“Besides, look at that glare, that’s a Damian Wayne glare for sure. Last time we kidnapped him I thought he might have that laser stare them Metropolis heroes got.” 

“Why ain’t we put a gag on Brucie?” The shortest of the kidnappers asked, and the ‘boss’ slapped him upside the head.

“You kidding me, Star City? That’s Bruce Wayne, we treat him gentle when we grab him. Show some respect.”

“You kidding me, Charley? To the guy we just tied up?” 

Ugh, tourists. Terry rolled his eyes, to general amusement. “See, the kid gets it. You gotta get that new meat stink offa ya, bud.”

This was Terry’s eighth time being held captive in a warehouse, but most of those had just been school drills. (The exception before this had been when the Condiment King had kidnapped the occupants of a Batburger for the most stressful taste test of his life.) 

Honestly, this was nicer than when his teachers had done it. The rope his wrists were tied in felt less used, the school ropes were also worn so much they almost cut the skin. And the gag didn’t even taste funky. The kidnappers had even put a blanket on the floor so it was slightly less chilly.

It was so tempting to send a sarcastic email to his sixth-grade teacher. ‘In the real world, kidnappings will be much worse’ was clearly just her excuse for the school cheaping out on what was already the worst fieldtrip of the year.

Bruce started to stir, and Terry’s attention focused on the man who was still his responsibility. “Wha…?” He mumbled, blinking as he raised his head, and then he tensed for a moment and then relaxed. “Oh, Donny’s boys. Early this month, aren’t you?”

“Sorry Mr. Wayne, Don saw you with a new kid and got excited.” One of the criminals who had been quiet thus far spoke up. “We already let Mr. Grayson know what the demands are, doncha worry one bit.”

“You’re all so on-task.” Bruce complimented, and Terry just stared at him. Being complimentary to the kidnappers had not featured in the advice of his teachers through the years. “Is there a reason Terry’s gagged?”

“Your children have such sharp tongues, Mr. Wayne. Johnny-boy here still hasn’t emotionally recovered from the things Timothy said to him last year.” 

“He can be a little vicious.” Bruce said, and despite himself, Terry was fascinated by this side of the CEO that he’d never experienced in person. 

“Congrats on marrying him off though.” This prompted a chorus of congratulations, and the more they talked so casually, the more Terry was feeling like he did when his mom ran into an old high school friend in the grocery store and they insisted on jabbering about old flames, playing hooky, and running designer drugs for high ranking mobsters back in their glory days. It was just awkward and a little embarrassing.

“Thank you everyone, I’ll tell him and Bernard how pleased you are for him. Wedding’s coming up soon, so I hope this is the last hostage situation until after…?” Bruce trailed off, lifting his eyebrows hopefully.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, you know we can’t promise nothing.” This was said in a sheepish way that made Terry suspect that it would absolutely be after the wedding that the next kidnapping attempt happened.

“Why are we makin’ nice with the mark?” Asked the one from Star City. New Meat, Terry was gonna call him. “When we kidnapped Oliver Green, we never played nice with the man.”

“I mean, neither do I when I kick his ass at golf!” Bruce joked, laughing like that was a much better joke than it was.

The kidnappers laughed too, covering up the sound of Terry’s disgusted noise being muffled. Except for the newbie to Gotham, he just looked bewildered.

“But Terry really isn’t anywhere near as mean as Timmy is, other than how he always tells me how old I am.” Bruce frowned and, alarmingly, his lower lip jutted out. “Do you think I won’t win Most Eligible Bachelor of Gotham this year, boys? I didn’t think the years were catching up to me so fast…”

“No! Mr. Wayne, you can’t think like that.” Johnny-boy said in tones of utter earnestness. “You’ve got my vote!”

Terry was pretty sure this was a meaningless magazine thing, not a democratic process.

“But why ain’t you announced your new kiddo, Brucie?” Don the boss asked, and Terry waited for Bruce to explain that he wasn’t a new Wayne.

“Didn’t want it to overshadow the wedding coverage. It’ll be the event of the year! I’m trying to see if I can both give Tim away and be the flower girl, but Tim keeps insisting that Bernard has some kind of niece.” Bruce sniffed. “If it can’t be me, it should be Cassie, but what do I know, I’m just his father. ”

“Kids these days,” was said by either Charley or New Meat, Terry wasn’t paying attention. Why wasn’t Bruce clarifying that Terry wasn’t his kid? 

“And if it can’t be Cassie, why not his sugar baby?” Bruce rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Whaaaat, he’s inviting his sugar baby to the wedding?!” Asked Johnny-boy, eyes sparkling in clear delight at the potential scandal.

“He’s the best man!” Bruce said, leaning forwards as much as he could. “And you know what’s the kicker?”

“What?” Johnny-boy asked, rapt.

“He’s from Metropolis !”

“ No !” Was chorused by the four-man crew with various shades of horror. Even New Meat was shocked. 

Terry couldn’t blame them. Tim had a Metropolitan boytoy that was going to be his best man ? His eyes were wide in shock.

“I cannot wait to read Vicki Vale’s take on this.” Johnny-boy sighed. 

Don’s phone beeped. “There it is, Mr. Grayson’s come through again. Alright Brucie, it’s blindfolding time, and we’ll drop the pair a you off at the drop point.”

“Appreciate it, Donnie. How’s Mark doing, though?” Bruce asked quickly, dragging out how long it took for him and Terry to be free so Terry could shout at him.

Don swelled up a little and spoke with obviously paternal pride. “Mark’s doing real swell, Bruce, your ransoms are getting him through medical school.”

“Glad to hear it Donnie.”

“Is Damian still in school?” Don asked and Terry could scream with frustration. Wasn’t this ordeal over yet?

“Just graduated, but he’s decided he doesn’t want to follow in my footsteps.” Bruce slumped a little bit, looking dejected. “I’m worried he’s going to end up a starving artist.”

“Ain’t you give them kids big fat trust funds? He’ll be fine.”

Bruce perked up. “You’re right, Donnie! I forgot about that.” Don patted Bruce on the shoulder and then plopped the bag over his head. “See you in a few months, yeah?” Bruce asked, slightly muffled by said bag.

“You can count on that.”

Terry got a bag on his head and was gently led into a vehicle, full of confusion and outrage. He wasn’t mad enough to miss the whispering though. What sounded like Charley’s voice was telling Bruce that Two Face had a chip on his shoulder about the wedding. 

Huh. Spilling the plans of people like Two Face could be a deadly mistake in Gotham. Maybe that’s why Bruce was so friendly when he was kidnapped?

–

“-and I am NOT getting adopted because I have a mother ! She is alive and she loves me and is not giving up custody just because I match the rest of your children! Get another dog for your empty nest and correct people when they think you’re adopting me! ” Terry’s voice was starting to get hoarse. 

Dick, the weirdo, was somehow lounging on top of the refrigerator and looked down at Terry while shaking his head. “Don’t suggest animal adoption in Damian’s earshot, he’ll bring Bruce a horse before he could say nay.” Was there no situation where Dick wouldn’t freely pun?

“And you!”

“Me?!” Dick asked, looking surprised to have Terry’s ire turned on him. “I made you hot chocolate!”

“You got me kidnapped!” It was good hot chocolate though, and Terry’s hands were locked on the mug. “They thought I was being adopted and so I was a kidnapping target! Everyone thinks I’m being adopted!”

“...You’re not though?” Dick tries weakly. 

“Are you a family or a cult? Serious question! I need to maintain moral superiority over my brother for trying to join a cult.”

“Matt tried to join a cult?” Bruce asked with alarm and Terry waved a hand at him.

“Not the point, old man!”

“Which one?”

“You can talk to this one’s ex about it, that’s not what I’m yelling about right now!”

“...Which one?”

Terry just screamed in frustration and knocked back the hot chocolate like it was spiked. It wasn’t, because that would be a bad example for Bruce Wayne, the 55-year-old man he was paid to babysit and apparently get kidnapped with. 

“I think it’s Babs,” Dick whispered to Bruce. “She’s been talking about a beautiful woman whose son was rescued from cult recruitment lately.”

Terry screamed again and held his mug out for more hot chocolate.

–

“First a fight, now you’ve been kidnapped - oh Terry, maybe this job isn’t such a good idea after all.” Mary fussed over her elder son when he got home.

“Mom, I’m fine. It was honestly like…. Nothing.” Terry groaned though he did take the ice pack to wrap around his wrist. The ropes on top of the chain bruising had been punishing. 

“Bruce Wayne is cool, Mom, you can’t make Terry quit!” Matt whined.

“He’s not cool.” Terry grunted.

Mary shook her head. “I don’t know, boys.”

“I’ve had worse experiences on field trips, chill out.” Terry told her, rolling his eyes, and winced at the way her nose flared.

“Don’t you talk to me like that when I’m concerned over your safety.” She told him flatly.

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m sorry. I’m really fine though, they were exceedingly relaxed. Mr. Wayne was weirdly friendly with them.”

“They probably thought Terry was one of his kids.” Matt chimed in. 

“Well, he’s not. He’s mine. And so are you!” Mary scooped Matt up and cuddled Terry’s head to her chest. “You’re my little babies and Bruce Wayne can’t adopt either of you without getting past me. And I bet I could kick his butt.”

Moms were so embarrassing.

Chapter Text

“What’s happening, Mr. Wayne? I’m scared.”

Bruce’s jaw was set, and his body was tense, clearly ready for something to go sideways at any moment.

“Wedding planning, Terry. This is wedding planning.” Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll have to be strong. Anything could happen, anything could go wrong. We don’t have a great record with weddings.

“It was one time !” Dick shouted from across the room.

“It was twice.” Bruce whispered with a shudder. 

“Can we not bring this back around to the worst disaster a Wayne wedding can possibly have?” Tim asked plaintively.

“But-” His fiance said, looking longingly at Dick.

“No.”

“But I have been dying to know if Starfire really-” 

“She didn’t.”

“Hon!”

“We don’t have time for conspiracy theories right now, we need to finish the seating chart! We can conspire later.”

Terry wanted to go home. The usually empty manor was full of people, and Terry was troubled that he recognized so many of them. The epicentre was the dining room right now, the large wooden table piled with papers, laptops, and samples of various wedding goods. Tim and the blond man he was going to marry were sitting at the table, Tim typing on a laptop, and Bernard writing notes in a notebook. There were people in the halls and empty rooms doing cleaning work, airing out rooms that had been closed off, carefully lowering a chandelier in the ballroom… 

This was just begging for a villain to show up and cause havoc. Forget whatever happened when Dick Grayson tried to get married, fully half the big events in Gotham got interrupted by somebody, and that was a number Terry just pulled out of his ass.

“Have you thought about eloping?” Terry asked weakly.

“My parents would disown me.” Bernard said absently, then blinked and looked at Terry weirdly. “Sorry, I think I skipped the introduction. I’m Bernard, Tim’s-”

“Yeah, you’re getting married, I know. I’m Terry, I babysit Tim’s dad.” 

Bruce grumbled and sat down at the table in the head seat. “Babysitting, I’m being harassed is what’s going on.”

“Are you… a new brother of Tim’s? Babe, do we need to add him to the guest list?” Bernard asked, looking to his fiance.

“I’m not being adopted!” Terry repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, wondering if it would be worth the money to get that tattooed on his forehead.

“Already done, love.” Tim answered Bernard with a little half-smile. 

“I don’t even get the day off when you’re getting married?” Terry asked, honestly surprised. It was weird to have a random unrelated teenager at your wedding, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like it’d be easy for the father of one of the grooms to just not eat a meal or go missing. Maybe rich people weddings were different, he hadn't actually been to any except for one of his distant cousin's weddings when he was eight.

“He’s slippery, and we won’t have time to keep an eye on him.” Tim told him with a sympathetic smile. “You can’t trust Bruce Wayne to behave. Plus, it’s not a dry wedding.”

“Timothy.” Bruce said flatly, making his son burst out in giggles. 

“I think it’s great that you’re cutting down on your drinking, Bruce. Mother says you used to drink an appalling amount at galas.” Bernard said in a dazzlingly innocent tone that Terry distrusted on instinct. 

“You don’t need to try so hard, Ber.” Tim patted his shoulder.

Try so hard at what? Being nice to his future father-in-law? 

“Anyways, Terry, help us decide between these complementary gas masks for the guests.” Tim tossed him a few to compare. “That’s half the reason you’re here today when we are, we need more opinions that aren’t from the Wayne family.”

“Dick keeps suggesting that we bedazzle them,” Bruce tells Terry with a grimace.

“I’m sorry that I’m fashionable.” Dick said, bringing small plates of smaller cake slices into the room. “Here, Tim and Bernard, these are the final samples of your cake, the baker wants to confirm you’re happy.”

“I’ll be happy when this is over.” Bruce muttered. 

“You’re never happy, Dad.” Dick hummed, giving Terry some cake too. Hell yeah. “Oh, Tim, Babs wants a plus one added for her.”

“On it,” Tim said, and Terry frowned as he scooped up a forkful of cake. …No, he was being paranoid.

Who would take a first date to a high society wedding?

–

“Terry, we actually have a favour to ask you.” Terry looked up from where he was sitting on the floor with Ace in his lap. The dog had finally warmed up to him, and it was as satisfying as he’d hoped to pet and play with the large dog. Bernard and Tim looked slightly awkward, and Terry’s suspicion immediately went on high alert.

“...What is it?” He asked, instead of immediately agreeing, like the engaged couple probably hoped.

“Tim has some… friends.” Bernard said, and oh no, was this about the sugar baby thing? Did Bernard know? Were there multiple sugar babies? “And we’re not sure they can manage to act like normal people with all four of them at the wedding at the same time.”

“Three, dear.”

Bernard shot Tim a look . “I know what I said, Tim.”

Tim looked outraged but not, Terry thought, surprised. “I’ll be a bit busy getting married to get into trouble.”

Bernard snorted and turned back to Terry. “The Waynes are too used to them, and also too chaotic themselves. We need someone who’s unexposed to them and is still relatively normal to see if they can keep themselves like real people for a few hours. I’ll make sure Bruce eats and doesn’t run off if you can babysit them instead and let me know how insane they seem to you?”

It wasn’t a bad offer, since presumably, these were adults that wanted to go to the wedding. They’d be trying to behave. 

Terry shrugged. “Alright. When do you want me to- oh.”

The second he’d agreed, a head poked through the door, with bright eyes that lit on him and the face lit up. “Is that the baby?!” 

What.

“Bart.” Tim groaned.

“This is your fault for thinking this would go well.” A woman walked in after ‘Bart’ almost dove to sit next to Terry on the floor. “I warned you.”

“He’s sensitive about the adoption jokes lately, Dick says.” Tim reminded her, and Terry scowled. 

“No one’s joking about it, everyone’s being serious,” Terry argued.

“Can’t see why that is.” Chuckled an absolutely stacked person that looked kind of familiar to Terry. “‘Sup, kid.”

“...You’re not Jon.” Terry said slowly. 

“Nope.” 

Terry waited, but there was no further information forthcoming. Cool.

“So, this is Bart, Cass, and Connor!” Tim said, clapping his hands together. “They’re all going to be as normal as possible and hang out with you for a few hours, and then they can come to my wedding.”

“Bart’s a dear, he’s the cousin of Wally, one of-”

“Dick’s exes, I’ve heard of him.” Terry completed Bernard’s sentence, rubbing his forehead. How was this circle of family and friends so large and yet so incestuous?

“Yes, Cass here dated both Connor and Tim.” What. At least she had the grace to seem embarrassed about it.

“It was a rough time in our youth. Why are we telling the baby our dating history?” Cass asked, cheeks slightly red.

“Literally everyone I meet through the Waynes does this, it’s like they think they have to justify their relationships and friendships to me,” Terry said with an eye roll. “And I’m sixteen. ”

“Yeah, a baby.” Connor snickered before Bernard wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

“Speaking of babies! This is my darling step-sugar baby! I’m so excited to bring him into our family.”

“Can’t wait, step-sugar daddy.” Connor said with a wink, seeming to barely hesitate at all.

“ Guys .” Tim on the other hand, looked mortified. 

“He deserves this.” Bart assures Terry.

“I had heard that Tim asked his sugar baby to be his best man… was that… true ?” Terry asked him quietly.

“Yep!” Barts fingers were tapping on the floor, though he was paying no attention to the action.

“...I have so many questions.”

“See, this is why we all think you’re getting adopted.”

“Bart!” Tim snapped.

–

“So, I think they’re normal enough for Gotham.”

“Terry?“

“Yes?”

“You’re calling me at one in the morning to tell me this, I have some deep concerns and reservations.”

“You asked for my opinion, Mr. Dowd.”

“Wait-”

Terry hung up and beamed at the three bad influences surrounding him. “There, I vouched for you. Now tell me more about Mr. Drake’s biggest mistakes.”

Cassie grinned, looking almost feral. “Well, one time -”

Chapter Text

Terry was walking home from dropping Dana off after a late-night dance club date when it happened.  

These days spotting Batman was rarer and rarer. Gossip said he had died or retired, but villains said he still came out, and he’d been caught on camera. But only in the middle of the night, and never early morning or evening anymore. 

It was easier to spot the mass of shadows with pointy ears as it lurked next to a construction walkway with a middle-aged woman in the brightest shades of pink and blue hanging upside down next to him from a piece of the temporary structure. Terry froze and eased himself behind a dumpster, too curious to resist eavesdropping.

“- and I just don’t got a clue where I went wrong, Bats! I fed ‘em, I loved ‘em, I encouraged ‘em, and now!” The blonde woman spread her arms wide and Terry fervently prayed she wasn’t about to spill out of the top she wore. 

“Probably you should’ve discouraged their whole bit about being the same person.” Growled the actual for real Batman.

“But it was funny .”  Was whined at him. “You can’t disapprove of a good bit!”

“Hm.”

“Well, you can, I guess.” There was a tongue stuck out at the Batman, and Terry was fascinated by this unique interaction. What the actual hell.

“Harley. It’s not your fault.” The words were understanding, and the woman did a little flip and was standing on the ground, hugging her arms around her.

“Ain’t it? I’ve got some kind of … bad clown gene that makes women think the Joker was some kinda redeemable or interesting person. Why else would my Dee Dee be acting like this?”

Wait, like the crazy clown girls who had attacked him? Was this their mom? And why did the name Harley ring a bell?

“You’re a psychiatrist, Harley, you know there’s no bad clown gene.” Batman paused and put a hand on her shoulder. “They like chaos, just like their grandmother. If the current street gang that loved anarchy had been duck themed, they’d have tried that new splicing thing and sprouted feathers.”

Wait, Grandma? Grandma’s weren’t allowed to be hot. 

“I’d rather they be two little feathery assholes,” Harley grumbled. 

“Bird children are vastly overestimated,” Batman said dryly, and Terry had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. Harley had no such compunction. 

“You can’t be having behavioural problems with them now ! At least Dee Dee is 14.”

“That’s the worst age.”

“The worst!” 

“Don’t let them go looking for their mother, is all I can say.”

She gasped, with delight and shock warring on her face, a hand held over her mouth. “Bats, that’s dark .”

“He’s made jokes about it for fifteen years, Harley, it’s broken me.”

“Oh Bats… you know you were always broken, dontcha?” What did any of that mean? Terry shifted slightly and then winced. Surely that wasn’t enough to betray his position?

Neither of them seemed to react…

“So we were talking about our children?”

“I’ll therapize you one of these days.” It was surreal to see someone shaking a finger at The Batman like that. 

“Not without consent you won’t.” 

“Consent’s important. Did you hear that, baby bat!”

Who was she shouting at?

“Harley!” 

“Oh, what, I was supposed to pretend he’s not there?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Nevermind, baby bat!”

Was there a new bat on the scene? Terry looked around but didn’t have a clue where they might be hiding. Well, if it was a bat, that probably wasn’t surprising.

“Consent is important.” Batman clarified, and Harley rubbed her forehead.

“Oy vey… make up your mind.”

“Just, it should be emphasized if there was anyone listening in to this private conversation, that consent is important.”

“You’re such a friggin’ Dad sometimes, you know that?”

“Thank you.”

“You’d give me daddy issues if I ain’t already had them and worked most of ‘em out. No wonder Nightwing is Like That.”

“Hm.”

“Ooh, brutal judgment from the Bats. No wonder the zombie is Like That.”

The was a steely silence. 

They were beginning to retreat, and Terry didn’t dare follow to listen in on any more. Not with both of them on alert for eavesdroppers and a potential Bat in training in the area. 

“Honestly, your children are miracles for turning out as well as they did.”

“...Thank you.”

Their conversation faded out, and Terry waited to continue on his way home until they were gone from sight as well.

–

Terry, upon entering Wayne Manor, was immediately frozen up in shock. The scene before him wasn’t really making sense. There was Tim, the incumbent bridegroom of the Wayne family, drawing out what looked like football strategies on a whiteboard with words like “potential weak points” and “cake.” And there was his English teacher, sitting casually on a couch and using a laser pointer to point at specific parts of the plan.

“...Which one of you slept with Miss B?” Was what he heard himself say, and he blanched in sudden horror. “No, I didn’t mean it!”

“Sit down before I call your mother, McGinnis.”

“Yes’m.”

“Oh my god, I’ve never seen you in teacher mode before.” Tim said, sounding slightly awed. “This is incredible. Do you teach the baby?”

“You told your friends not to call me that!” 

“Shhh, the baby, I’m digging for dirt.” 

“Don’t call me-” Terry’s voice raised with his level of irritation.

“McGinnis!”

“Sorry, Miss B.” 

“This is beautiful. Incredible. Astonish-”

“Tim!”

“Sorry, Helena.”

“Her name is Helena?” Terry felt slightly awed. The scariest teacher he’d ever had… had a first name? Knew the Waynes? She’d always been a mystery and a million rumours surrounded her at school, and somehow ‘was on a first name basis with at least one of the Waynes’ had never been one of them.

“Yes, my name is Helena. I’m right here, kid.” Miss Bertinelli looked the same way she had in Terry’s English class today. There were white streaks from her temples in her hair, she had an aura of could-kick-your-ass-but-won’t-because-she’d-get-in-trouble, and she had a golden crucifix hanging around her neck. Right now, she looked amused. “I knew you were getting into trouble after school.”

“The clowns started it.” Terry muttered defensively, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat. People kept looking at his bruises like he was still a trouble-maker.

She laughed. “I meant getting wrapped up with the Wayne Family. Tough luck for you.”

“Oh. But you’re here.”

“For my sins.” She said airily, and Tim choked, earning himself a disapproving look. “Do you mind, Tim?”

“You’re here because you love me and I’m your little brother,” Tim said after recovering. Wait. Was Miss B a Wayne?

“I wouldn’t be part of this family if I was being paid. No offence, McGinnis.”

“None taken. But I’m not - I’m just - Mr. Wayne is a fall risk.” Terry tried to explain that he certainly hadn’t joined the family, and his teacher did not look impressed at his jumbled mess of a sentence.

“You’re not doing well in English, are you Terry?” Tim asked and Terry groaned and covered his face.

–

Later as he worked on his English homework on the dining room table, he felt her presence passing by. She paused and picked up the outline for the essay he’d put to the side. “Not bad, McGinnis. I’d suggest you add another supporting quote for your third argument though, alright?”

“Thanks.” He mumbled, taking the sheet back. This was so fucking weird. But… his grade would probably be the better for it.

“Helena~” Dick Grayson literally cartwheeled into the room, calling his English teacher by her first name, which still felt weird. 

“Grayson.”

“Are you bothering Terry?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “He’s a good boy, he doesn’t deserve extra school.”

“Am I bothering him? You didn’t warn him he might encounter a schoolteacher here!” 

“I’m not a good boy.” Terry objected. This got him two amused glances that didn’t take him seriously as a teenage hooligan at all. Rude. He’d stolen stuff and done minor property damage and gone to juvie. Just because he was trying to do better now, with his dad missing and everything… still. ‘Good boy’ sounded like something you’d call a Metropolitan kid. Or a dog. 

Same difference.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today, why would I warn him until closer to the wedding?” Dick asked. “Besides, you’re probably his favourite teacher.” He flashed a smile that just oozed charm and Miss B looked reluctantly charmed, though she rolled her eyes.

A terrible realization struck him and he groaned loudly, letting his body slump forwards and his face land flat on his essay. “It was Mr. Grayson.” 

“Pardon?” Miss B asked in confusion, but Dick just started to laugh. “Dick?” He only laughed harder. “Dick!”

“Stop.” Terry begged. “I don’t want to know these things.”

“What thi-” She paused, clearly remembering the question he’d blurted out upon first spotting her here, and went red and angry. “ McGinnis !”

–

“How did you get detention at work?” Dana asked when he phoned her that evening.

“Miss B has a long arm, Dana.” Terry groaned. “I can’t wait for this wedding to be over.”

Chapter Text

“...there’s a lot of work that wasn’t done, I’m afraid. Disappearances in Gotham are a dime a hundred.”

“I’d say ‘don’t you mean a dozen’ but I was born here. I’m more surprised you didn’t say a dime a thousand.”

“Well, things are better than they were in my father’s time, even though that’s damning with faint praise.” Barbara Gordon let out a deep, exhausted sigh. “I passed on the file to some… alternate sources, but there’s not a lot left that the police can dig down on.”

This was the point where Terry stopped idly eavesdropping and instead actively barged in. Why was the police commissioner telling his mother about a police case?

(Terry tried to swallow down the feeling that he knew which police case this was.)

(He wasn’t very good at it.)

“So there was work the cops didn’t do, but also there’s nothing they could do now? Wow. Lots of responsibility being taken there.” Drawled Terry as he revealed his presence, stalking into their kitchen to grab a cola from the fridge and slam it closed.

“Terry…” Mary said, frowning and biting her lower lip. It seemed she felt too guilty to really admonish him about his rudeness. So it was about his dad.

“Y’know, you should really be talking to his nearest relative about his case.” Terry snapped, ignoring how his mother’s lips pressed together tightly. 

“You’re a minor, Terry.” Barbara reminded him. “And it’s not an update, not really. I just asked someone else to take a look, that doesn’t have so much red tape and has the bandwidth to look at cold cases right now.”

“So he’s a cold case barely a year later?” Terry said, ignoring how likely the cola can was to explode with how his hands were shaking. “And you’re, what, asking some C List hero to look at it now because you want to-”

“Terry.” Barbara Gordon cut him off. He was almost grateful because the words that were boiling and about to erupt from his lips would have been intensely disrespectful to his mother and gotten him mega grounded. “I know this has been an incredibly stressful situation for you, and losing your father like this is hard. But I promise, this is the kind of case I am trying to make sure we don’t overlook, and it’s certainly not a C-List hero I’ve asked in on this.”

“I bet you asked friggin’ Batman himself. Red Robin came out of retirement just to find Warren McGinnis because you asked.” Terry sneered, venom dripping from every word.

Barbara didn’t respond. But slowly, one of her eyebrows raised as she looked at him coolly.

Wait. 

Wait, what?

“...No.” He said after a long moment as the implication sunk in. “Wait, what the fuck, no friggin’ way, you did not .”

“I want your father to be found, Terry. Both because I’ve got standards as the new commissioner, and because I find myself growing fond of your mother and your brother.” Barbara’s serious face gave way to a wry grin. “Even you, despite your very best efforts.”

“...So. So.” Terry wasn’t sure what to say. “You actually…?”

“Red Robin is looking into the case now. He said another hero called Oracle is lending him some assistance. I can’t promise they’ll find him, but any results will be brought first to your mother, then to you - because she’s your guardian, and if I want to brief you both at once, I’ll need her permission. Which I had intended to ask her for, by the way.”

“Absolutely.” Mary granted it immediately. She was holding onto Barbara’s right hand with her left, leaning on the top of the wheel of Barbara’s wheelchair. “I know we were divorced, but he was still my friend. We want to know what happened to him.”

“It’s… not likely to be good news,” Barbara told both of them in a careful tone. Mary nodded, clearly aware of that already.

Terry was born here too. He knew missing in Gotham just meant murdered. But the mystery was like living with a knife in his spine, and he wanted to know what happened.

And Red Robin, who gossip said had been a better detective than Batman, was on the case. And some Oracle character, who must be something if Red Robin was asking for their help.

He might find out what happened to his dad.

The feeling barely fit in his chest, and he blindly put the soda can on the counter. “Okay. Okay. I..”

Terry felt a little dizzy and sat down heavily in a chair. Mary let go of Barbara’s hand and moved so she could rub his back as he breathed in and out deeply. They both were quiet as he took a second to breathe and release the stress and anger the topic had stoked in him. The thought that his father’s disappearance wasn’t some eternal mystery, that he might get some answers… it was some massive weight slipping off of his shoulders that he’d forgotten that he’d carried.

An unknown amount of time later, he lifted his head. “...If you date my mom, I won’t be mad.” He said, instead of any statement of gratitude or apology for his behaviour.

Barbara couldn’t repress the fond look on her face. 

–

“Take him out for a walk, he’s pent up and he’s getting on everyone’s nerves.” Dick said to Terry the moment he showed up.

“Ace?” Terry asked, non-plussed by the sudden demand and lack of cheery hello.

“Sure, him too.”

All was well and good for Dick to tell Terry to do, but rounding up and herding the billionaire was a pain in the ass. 

“Hey Mr. Wayne, let’s go for a walk and stretch your legs.” He’d greeted Bruce Wayne, who’d been glaring at a laptop until Terry entered the room. Suspiciously, Bruce closed the laptop and locked it in a desk drawer. 

“Why?”

“I thought it would be nice.” Lied Terry.

“No you didn’t.” Well, damn, he didn’t need to just say it like that.

“I don’t want to do homework?” Terry offered.

“So you want to go outside in the fresh Gotham air?” Bruce asked sardonically, drumming his hands on the desk.

Fuck it. “You’re annoying everybody and Dick told me to take you and Ace on a walk.”

“ Excuse me?”

Except Bruce couldn’t say no now, Ace had perked up at the combination of his name and the word walk. 

Twenty minutes later found the pair of them wandering aimlessly with Terry holding Ace’s leash. There was no need to go find a park when the grounds of Wayne Manor were massive. The grass was freshly manicured, all the hedges were freshly trimmed - the landscapers hired by the Waynes were clearly aware of the upcoming nuptials.

“Cannot believe my own son chased me out of my own house with a teenager.” Bruce was mumbling. Terry rolled his eyes and watched Ace run with the extendable leash, roaming as much as he pleased, but only so far. “I was busy.”

“You being busy was apparently getting on everyone’s nerves. Your other son’s planning a wedding, y’know. Maybe whatever business stuff you have to work on can be downgraded in urgency?” Terry suggested with a shrug. 

“I’m only trying to make the plans better. With Two-Face’s interest, I should be able to take some of Tim’s work off of his plate to help out. It’s ridiculous that he’s so protective when I’m the one who taught him about the business.” 

Poor Tim. Terry couldn’t imagine dealing with this. He bets that Timothy Drake-Wayne either had assistants helping already or was balancing the work with no issue. He did have to wonder though… “why does Two-Face care about some rich dude's wedding?"

“He used to be a good friend of mine. Before.” That must be a really sad story. There was a before to Two-Face? “So, when he heard my son was going from a double-hyphenated name to a single one…” Bruce shrugged.

“That’s… the stupidest thing I heard all day, and I was told to take you on a walk.” Two-Face was pissy about a hyphenated name ? 

“On a walk?” An amused, feminine voice asked, and Terry twisted his face to see a handsome older woman with dark hair. Ace wagged his tail to see her, but seemed to know better than to jump at her for attention. 

“Selina,” Bruce greeted with a nod. “Why are you here?” 

That sounded rude to Terry, but his tone wasn't abrasive, and Selina seemed to have no objection to the blunt question. 

“I had a message for Tim. Aren’t you going to introduce me, Bruce?” She asked, closing the gap between them, and nodding at Terry.

He didn’t wait. “Hi, I’m Bruce’s emotional support teenager.” She snorted at that, and he almost heard Bruce’s eyes roll.

“If I had a nickel.” She murmured, which didn’t make sense to him. “I’m Selina Kyle.” She introduced herself, then gave Bruce a little side-eye. “Time was, if I had to take you for a walk, I’d have to get out the collar and leash.” 

“God fucking damnit!” Terry swore. “C’mon Ace, we’re going back to the manor, Mr. Grayson needs to raise my pay for hearing about kinky billionaire nonsense.” 

Selina started to laugh, and Terry was out of there so fast he didn’t hear what Bruce’s response was.

–

The worst part was, Dick didn’t even complain about raising the hourly wage. 

How many more exes could this family possibly have?

Chapter Text

Apparently, the news Selina had come to tell Bruce was that their specialty florist had agreed to do the wedding. Terry just was having a hard time coming to terms with who that was.

“Do you think I’m allowed to know he’s there?” One middle-aged woman stage-whispered to another.

“Love, he’s as blind as… well. Don’t tip him off too fast.”

“Boo.” 

Terry wasn’t really parsing whatever they were talking about. That was the actual eco-terrorist Poison Ivy and also the GILF Batman had been talking to the other day. Which meant she was Harley Quinn; the wife of Poison Ivy. 

Wait, Dee Dee were the granddaughters of two of Gotham’s most historic villains and they’d joined some lame clown gang?

That sucked . 

They could be making so much money as influencers, and could even still cosplay as the sexy version of the Annabeth doll if they wanted.

“Uh, Terry? Bud? You alright there?” Tim’s voice suddenly registered, and Terry blinked and focused. The CEO looked vaguely amused, and not at all off-put by the presence of the two women behind him.

“Uh- just realized something.” 

“Whadja realize?” The woman who he realized had literally been in some of his modern history books bounded up to him with a wide grin. He took a step back automatically. 

“Uh - that there are many reasons my best friend Max would be incredibly jealous of me right now and also many reasons to be grateful she’s not here?”

Tim snorted. “Can we introduce her to some lesbians her own age? Damn, that girl is bright but full of bad ideas.”

“And you’re her mentor?” Bruce’s AA sponsor sucked in a breath and bore his teeth in a grimace. “Bad luck for… well, everyone.”

“Does Mr. Wayne have to come in to talk to you? He’s being weird and kinky with a lady outside.” Terry asked, unable to think of why else Jay would be there. 

Tim and Jay both blanched, looking at Terry with no small amount of horror. Harley just started laughing as Poison Ivy rolled her eyes.

“It’s been five minutes!” Tim exclaimed. “I thought they were on another break!”

“Predictable.” Sighed the green woman who had definitely committed acts of terror and was now just sort of there in Wayne Manor with no one seeming concerned. She was retired now, he knew, but it was still a shock to just be standing in the same room as her.

“Why do you think Brucie needs to come in to talk to ‘im?” Harley collected herself enough to ask, wiping tears from her eyes.

Confused, Terry asked, “why else would Jay be here?” 

“...Why else…” Harley repeated, narrowing her eyes as she repeated what he said like it was some kind of mystery.

“For alcohol addiction counselling! Yes, helping Bruce prepare to go dry through the wedding, that’s why he’s here. Why else would his sponsor be here?” Tim said quickly, going to punch Jay in the shoulder before deciding not to at the furious eyes of the skunk-haired man.

Both of the women in the room had their eyebrows up so high they might fly off. 

“Not a word,” Jay warned both of them harshly.

Woah. Bruce’s sponsor was hardcore. He didn’t seem worried at all about threatening two supervillains. They didn’t seem overly offended either.

Maybe they’d gotten extremely chill in retirement?

They didn’t look chill though, not exactly. There was a smile curling Poison Ivy’s lips and Harley Quinn’s cheeks were puffed up like a chipmunk’s. Little spurts of high-pitched giggles kept escaping her.

“All I wanted was flowers at my wedding with a minimal chance of leading to violence.” Tim sighed. 

“And you’ll get them.” Poison Ivy drawled, still looking at the AA sponsor as her wife badly suppressed her hysteria. 

“It’s not that funny.” Jay growled at Harley, shoving his hands in his pocket and looking harassed.

“It’s a little funny.” Tim said with automatic ease, which was a weird thing for Tim did say. Didn’t he want Bruce to be getting help?

“I don’t understand why Bruce trying to quit the habit is funny at all.” Terry said slowly, looking around the odd group as if he could just get a straight answer out of the four people in front of whom. 

75% of them weren’t straight, so he didn’t have high hopes.

50% of them were dangerous though, so he felt extremely uncomfortable suddenly being the focus of their attention.

Maybe he should have stayed with Bruce and his dominatrix. 

They all looked to Tim after a moment, which he supposed was fair, since he was the only Wayne here. “I - you’re right, Terry, alcohol addiction isn’t funny. Bruce just is ...hard to wrangle. I mean, you know that.”

Well, yeah, the man was impossible, that was true. How the hell did Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy know Bruce Wayne well enough to know that? Was it repeated kidnappings? 

“Anyways, are we in agreement about payment, Timothy?” 

“Pamela, I’m not having a mother of the groom other than Bernard’s mother.” Tim said, which… Terry was confused again.

Wasn’t Tim’s bio mom dead? Why did Poison Ivy want to pretend to be his mom?

“But Timmers, I’ll never get another chance!” It was Harley, wailing overdramatically, clutching at her blond hair as she hammed up the despair.

Tim threw his own hands in the air. “You have two grandkids!”

Terry looked at Tim skeptically. “No offense, but Dee Dee? You see them settling down? Really?”

“How did you-” The CEO seemed confused at how Terry knew what  the grandchildren in question were called, but didn’t bother finishing the question. “Look, the most unlikely people settle down as they get older. Do you know what kind of shit I got up to in my youth?”

“He skateboarded.” Jay chimed in helpfully.

“Wow.” Terry said, deadpan. “That totally matches up to violent clown thuggery.”

“Delia and Deirdre are sweet girls, stop talking about them like that.” Poison Ivy snapped.

“...Their names are Delia and Deirdre? Oh, I’m so calling them that next time they try to beat me into a pulp.” Terry said, with no small amount of delight. Add that to teasing them about having hot grandma’s and he might get away with slightly less injury.

“Next time?” Jay repeated, with some amusement. “Why don’t you try and stay outta their way instead?”

Terry snorted. “Yeah, okay. Sure .”

“You fit in so well.” Poison Ivy sighed mournfully. “This is depressing. How does he keep finding them?”

“It was Dick’s fault this time.” Jay told her, making her rub her temple.

“Is this another adoption joke?” Terry wanted to know. “Because it’s seriously getting old.” 

“It’d have to be funny to be a joke.” Harley said sweetly.

“Thank you!”

“She’s not on your side, bud.” Tim told him gently.

“...Wow. Rude.” Terry huffed.

“In any case, the only payment I’ll accept has been refused, so I’ll both be withdrawing my services and keeping an eye to make sure no plants are damaged for your little celebration.” Poison Ivy announced, cutting through the bullshit coolly.

“Pamela, please.” Tim looked pained. “How about you’re both invited, and Harley can say I’m like a son to her?”

“Hm.” Poison Ivy sniffed.

“And I’ll donate to the environmental charity of your choice.” Tim sweetened the pot.

“Throw in pictures of just you and me with your wedding photographer and we got a deal!” Harley broke in, and Tim sighed but nodded his agreement.

“Deal.”

Harley squealed and everybody but Tim and Poison Ivy winced. 

“B is going to be so pissed.” Jay said with what sounded like glee. 

“Isn’t that… bad for his recovery? Terry asked.

“...Call it a stress test.” 

Terry wondered if maybe they’d trade Jay in for a better sponsor.

–

Nope.

–

Something wasn’t adding up great here, Terry just didn’t know what it added up to. 

Math wasn’t his favourite subject.

He was holding two handfuls of extremely disconnected facts, and a lot of them just didn’t make sense. 

Maybe he needed some kind of board. And some red string.

Or maybe billionaire’s were just weird.

Terry wasn’t the conspiracy theory type. But he was a curious guy too. Maybe a little snooping wouldn’t go amiss.

After the wedding though.

Probably.

Maybe.

Chapter Text

“Ooooh.” Terry winced as a robot got a hold of Robin’s hair and twirled him overhead before slamming him into the ground. “That’s gotta hurt.”

Dana, Max and him had been hanging out at Dana’s house when the shelter-in-place order came through. Killer-enchanted robots with nanobot blood, or something. His mother was safe at a Gotham library with Matt, and Bruce Wayne was… Terry didn’t want to think about it.

(“Hi Mr. Wayne, I’m just checking that you’re safe.”

“Thanks for calling, Terry. I’m… oof, I’m fine.”

“Why are you so out of breath? Are you running? I can go into the city and help you get to safety-”

“No! No, everything’s fine. Stay where you are.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“But then why are you breathing so hard…. Oh. Oh no, Selina’s there, isn’t she? Ew. Ew! Mr. Wayne, why would you answer the phone?!”

“I-”

“Nope! No details. Just… you two stay safe.”

He’d hung up and then had the mortifying task of explaining about Bruce Wayne’s dominatrix ‘friend’ to Max and Dana.)

So they were watching the coverage on the news.

“You know, Vicki Vale might be a gossip hound, but kudos to her for covering this from her apartment,” Dana commented, wincing as a blow to Batman connected with his face, making blood fly.

“Vicki Vale can get it,” Max commented.

“Max, your boss is going to set you up with someone our age if you don’t stop being this thirsty for MILFs.” Terry warned her, and she shrugged.

“Not my fault Gotham is full of dangerous ladies of a certain age.” She drawled. “Besides, he’s driving me crazy with all this wedding stuff.”

“Ugh, right ?” Terry groaned. “This family had one wedding get interrupted by a single demon trying to take over the planet and they act like weddings are just cursed for them in general!”

“Boo hoo, everyone’s got their little mishaps trying to get married in Gotham. You just reschedule.” Dana said with an eye roll.

“I think his ex-fiancee isn’t local,” Terry explained, thinking about the extremely tall golden-skinned woman.

“She can also get it.” Max said, cackling as Terry threw one of Dana’s pillows at her.

“Oh my god!” Dana exclaimed, and Terry turned his head to see Spoiler on the ground, leg twisted to the side in a way that screamed of being broken.” 

“These robots are fucking vicious.” Terry commented, stomach twisting in sympathy as Red Robin swooped in to help manoeuvre Spoiler to safety and Red Hood struck the robot from behind with a heavy-looking gun. 

“They remind me of the design of the robot lackeys four alien invasions ago.” Max mused, pulling out her phone and searching up old stills from the invasion that had happened during their freshmen year of high school. “See?”

“I guess. But these ones are on their own.”

“Robot uprising. Five bucks.” Dana said immediately, and Terry regretted not placing a bet faster.

“The aliens turned them into mech suits, five bucks.” Max followed it up.

Damn. “Uh… five bucks on one of the aliens dating a Wayne family member?” Terry bet, rather than come up with another possibility. 

“No bet, it’s inevitable apparently.” Dana said wryly. Terry kept her updated every time he met a new ex.

On the screen, Batman’s nose ran with blood as he fought side by side with a Nightwing with one dangling arm. Poor guy probably couldn’t do any flips like that.

“Did you guys do Miss B’s homework?” Max asked, brandishing her own essay at them. “I could use a peer review, even though mine’s pretty immaculate.”

“Ugh, me too. You think she’d give us an extra day since the city’s under lockdown?” Dana asked, looking at the screen where crossbow bolts were getting embedded in robot head after robot head.

“Miss B? No way.” Terry snorted. “She’s ruthless.”

They all got their essays out and passed them around. 

As Terry read Max’s opinions on Lord of the Flies (“if Jack symbolizes the devil, I will one day rule hell”) the television kept going. With his attention divided, and the footage being whatever happened within view of Vicki Vale’s apartment, he wasn’t tracking the events too closely.

Black Bat appeared to stop a robot that tried to punch Vicki Vale out and disrupt the footage. There was a swollen bloody spot on her forehead, but she dismantled the robot brutally with the aid of some sparking electronics on her knuckles. 

“God, she’s hot.”

“Max, don’t get drool on my essay,” Dana ordered.

The bats all started to have sparks around their fingers - they must have figured out something to disrupt the robots, and the tide was beginning to turn. 

“You have so many run-on sentences.” Terry groaned at Max. 

“Bite me, McGinnis.”

“Your essay might as well boil down to ‘these kids wouldn’t survive in Gotham.’” Dana told him with a snort.

“I don’t know if they’d survive Central .” Terry rolled his eyes.

On the television, Batwoman fought back to back with a faceless woman, and parted from her again without a word communicated, limping as she found another robot to take down.

“Central? Metropolis kids would kick these kids' asses.” Max chimed in. "Metropolis kids would manage better if they were on stuck on an island."

“Nah, they’d just shout for a boy scout to save them.” Terry disagreed. “If they even knew they were in trouble, the sunlight-loving freaks.”

“Stranded on a deserted island does kinda sound like a Metropolitan vacation.” Dana hummed. “Well, not Luthor. His head would burn.”

“I bet he uses such high-grade sunscreen on his shiny head.” Max snickered. "Probably almost pure zinc."

Red Hood picked up a stumbling Robin, tucked him under one arm, and kicked in the chest cavity of another robot while Robin fought the hold. Robin’s hair looked in disarray and like there might be blood on his scalp.

“Dana, your take on Simon secretly manipulating Jack is hilarious. Miss B’s not gonna go for it.” Max said, after she finished marking out grammar issues on Dana’s essay.

Dana shrugged. “She said so long as we could support our argument, it was fine. I wanted to make her either honour those words or eat them.”

“Dana, I love you and you scare me.” Terry said and she patted him on the cheek.

“I’m in the room, guys.” Max reminded them, and then was distracted by the television, wincing as Huntress was caught in a chokehold. She fought free of it soon enough.

“Kids! Dinner!” Dana’s dad shouted up the stairs. “I’ve got the television on down here, you can doomwatch with me.”

Dana’s dad might not like him much, but he made a mean stir fry. Essays were abandoned for food without hesitation.

–

The day after the alien robot invasion (Terry and Max each owed Dana five bucks) Terry turned up to the most pitiful sight at Wayne Manor.

The family living room was scattered with Wayne family members, all in various states of dishevelment. 

“Terry…. Can we all be fall risks today?” Dick whined like he was half his age. “I don’t wanna get up.” He was lying over the back of a couch, head lying back so he was staring up at Terry. One of his arms was in a sling. 

He was also pale and exhausted-looking, with bags under his eyes, and bruises and small cuts covering his skin.

Actually, that went for everyone here but Terry.

“Richard, stop being embarrassing. I’ll get what you need.” Damian huffed, fussing with his hair, trying to make it lie better to hide a stitched-up cut. He sat bolt-upright on the couch, not leaning against it in any way.

“You’re bruised to hell and back, lil’ D.” Dick told him kindly. “We employ a young teenage gofer to feed Bruce, don’t we?” 

Bruce snorted and then winced. His nose was bandaged and Terry stared. “Did Selina break your nose ?” He gasped. 

“Selina?” Stephanie repeated from the armchair she lounged in, her leg (in a cast!) propped up on a footrest. 

“I know he was sheltering with her yesterday, he wasn’t exactly subtle when he answered the phone.” Terry said with a shudder, taking petty pleasure in how disturbed everyone else in the room looked.

“Father.”

“Bruce, what does he mean you weren’t subtle-”

Damian and Dick spoke at once but Terry interrupted.

“Seriously, is that nose broken? That’s… Do I need to go over the safe, sane and consensual talk my mom gave me? Because I don’t want to.” Please. Terry begged with his eyes. Don’t make him ask if Bruce had a safeword.

“It’s ‘justice.’” Cassandra told him and Bruce choked, going bright red.

Terry stared at her with wide eyes. How had she….?

“Cass is very good at guessing what people are thinking.” Tim told him, looking tired as he dabbed at a nasty looking bruise on Cassandra’s forehead with some kind of skin cream. They were sitting on the floor. “And Bruce and Selina are fine, please stop trying to traumatize yourself by learning more. I promise, you don’t want the details.”

“Okay, well, what the hell happened to the rest of you?” Terry asked, because they all looked like hell.

No one met his eyes. 

“...Uh?”

Tim’s eyes flashed with a strange light and he shrugged. “I guess we might as well tell you.”

“Wait-”

“Drake-”

“Tim-”

“Oh my god-”

Bruce, Damian, Dick, and Stephanie all spoke at once, but Cassandra just watched Tim, a smile growing on her own tired face. “It’s okay.” She said, making the rest go quiet.

“They fought over who would be my flower girl.” Tim told Terry, and the words hung in the air for a long moment.

“They’re… adults.” Terry said blankly. He’d thought Bruce had been joking about that.

“Apparently no one trusts Bern’s cousin to do a good enough job.” Tim shrugged. The long moment of shocked silence from the rest of them broke at this point.

“I was born for this, Tim!” Dick broke in. “I’m the most elegant, I could do acrobatic tricks down the aisle, what could an eight-year-old do that I couldn’t?”

Stephanie scoffed. “How about be a girl, dumbass? Something that I, the obvious choice, could do as well.”

“Typical of you, Brown, to lean on such weak thoughts to prove your point.” Damian sniffed haughtily. “How gender essentialist of you. Besides, Cassandra could do the exact same thing.”

“I’m the best.” Cassandra reminded them all with a beautific smile.

“No, Kon’s best man, Cass. You’re maid of honor.” Tim reminded her, and her smile didn’t dim one bit.

“I feel like I would make the most impact.” Bruce input quietly.

The squabbling was escalating and Terry was starting to see how this came to blows.

“Okay!” He said as loud as he could. “So, you got into a brawl over the pity role given to small female relatives?”

“Yes. Yes they did.” Tim confirmed. “And we’re still going with the eight-year-old.”

“She couldn’t win in a fight with even one of us.” Damian grumbled, and Dick patted him gently on the shoulder with his good hand.

“Please don’t attack an eight-year-old.” Bruce said tiredly.

Terry felt bad for Bernard’s cousin.

“Just… tell me what you need, I’ll baby you assholes today.” He agreed, mostly to try and avoid the thought of more rich people grudge matches that he might be in any way responsible for cleaning up after.

“I’m hungry,” Dick whined. “Can you heat up some of Kate’s meals for us?” 

“I deserve another raise.” Terry said, depositing his school bag by the couch Dick was lying on. “I’m on it. Six random reheated meals on the way.”

“Oh - wait.”

Wincing, Dick dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out a card. He held it out to Terry. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s easier to just give you a credit card instead of keeping up with raises. Bribe matches and your normal pay will get deposited in your account like normal and if you feel like a raise, just spend some money.”

Terry’s… name was on this card.

What.

“There’s no limit on it~” Stephanie sang sweetly.

What.

“Did we have to tell him the lack of limit?” Bruce asked tiredly.

“He was willing to give you the birds and bats talk, B. He earned it.” This was why he’d vote for Stephanie one day.

Dick got tired of holding the card out to Terry and flicked it at him, forcing Terry to scramble to catch it. 

The Waynes were fucking insane.

“I’m… going to go heat up some food and not think about this.” Terry said, because he had expected a normal day babysitting Bruce Wayne and not… this.

As he almost fled the room he heard Dick snort. “What do you think he’ll buy first?”

“First thing I bought with my card was a new aubergine wardrobe.” Stephanie replied and he forced himself to move faster.

Chapter Text

“Harvey! You’ve come to rescue me?” Bruce Wayne said, to the confusion and consternation of all those around him.

Not least of which, Two-Face himself. 

“Bruce, what would I possibly be rescuing you from?” The villain was holding a large gun of some kind, but awkwardly. He hadn’t been expecting a positive reaction.

“The kids won’t let me have a single drink, not even on this, the day of my son’s wedding!”

“What - not one?”

“Or two!”

Two-Face’s snarling half had a deeper grimace than usual. “But with your family’s track record…”

“Anyone would want a drink! Or two!”

“Mr. Wayne, you’re a fall risk.” Terry reminded him, exhausted. The tuxedo he’d been forced to wear was uncomfortable, his mom was on Barbara Gordon’s arm looking unfortunately dazzled, and he had needed to swipe alcohol away from his charge no less than twelve times, and the wedding hadn’t even started yet. Guests were still arriving. 

Including Two-Face and a coterie of well-dressed goons who were looking uncomfortable. The front room of the Manor had been deserted in a moment, and Terry saw no sign of any security or caped crusaders coming to the rescue. 

“Your newest?”

“He’s very invested in my health.” Bruce said modestly.

Terry regretted pouring out the sex on a beach he’d caught Bruce Wayne with. It could’ve gone down his throat just as easily.

“Literally invested. As in I get paid for this. I’m not your son!” Terry snapped, and honestly, two months ago he’d be more scared and wary in the presence of someone like Two-Face, but this joke had gone on for too long .

“I remember when Dick said that.” Two-Face said with…. Nostalgia?

Oh no.

“Oh my god. Two-Face ?! Are you serious?” Terry stamped his foot like Matt did when he was mad and lifted his hands up as if he could just grab Bruce and shake him. “Is there anyone in the city that didn’t sleep with you or your family?”

“Wh-” Two-Face wheezed. His goons were looking uncomfortable now, shifting their weight from foot to foot, edging away from their boss. “We didn’t sleep together! Bruce is straight!”

“Excuse me?!” Bruce said, offended. His cheeks were red though.

“...You’re not?” Two-Face said weakly, his non-scarred face also… getting red.

Oh god, what had Terry done?

“Harvey, I’m bisexual.” Bruce looked confused. “I… it’s been in the newspapers? I thought you were mad at me for sleeping with Batman?”

“I was mad at you for funding the Bat, I didn’t - you fucked Batman?!” 

Terry made eye contact with a goon and knew, deep in his soul, that they didn’t want to know about any of this either.

“You don’t get to be mad at me for that when you wanted to ruin Tim’s wedding. And when you thought I was straight! Heterosexual! Harvey, there’s not a straight Wayne family member, hasn’t been in generations!” Bruce said hotly, and Terry wished that they were less obviously moving closer to one another. 

“You never told me!” Harvey defended himself, starting to hold his weapon like it was a barrier between them.

“Harvey, I hit on you! I visited you in the hospital! I paid for your therapy when you took it! And you go ahead and bring guns into my home and have the audacity to call me straight! You were my friend !”

“Is being called straight really the line in the sand he’s drawn?” The goon Terry had made eye contact with muttered. Terry shrugged. Seemed like it.

“I don’t know if he’s going to go on with attacking the wedding, I think they’re going to fuck. Y’wanna just go?” Terry asked, hopeful.

The goon sucked in air through his clenched teeth. “I need the paycheck, kid. The wife’s getting antsy about needing stuff before her due date.”

“...How much is Two-Face paying you?” Terry asked slowly.

Ten minutes later, Terry had bribed away all the goons and tried to ignore the sound of old men sucking face. He checked his watch. 

He’d give them five more minutes, but then Bruce had to get ready to give Tim away.

–

Two-Face sat next to Terry in the audience, and looked as uncomfortable as Terry felt. 

“If it makes you feel any better, now that Tim and Bernard are both Waynes, there’s an even amount of living Waynes now. Bruce, Damian and those two. It was like 2.5 before.” Terry whispered, and some tension ran out of Two-Face at the words.

“...You really take after him. How long have you been adopted?”

“Shhh, I want to watch Mr. Grayson’s heart break when someone other than himself is the flower girl.

That poor eight-year-old girl. So many jealous glares aimed at her.

–

“...Is that Superboy standing next to Tim?”

“How should I know, you’re the villain. Shhh, Ms. Ivy’s gonna grow an arch over them with vines when they say I do and I wanna see how many people flinch.”

–

Terry bullied Two-Face into signing the guest book before he left. It was entertaining enough to make up for dealing with a sulking Bruce Wayne when he realized his supervillain crush had booked it. 

Why he needed Two-Face when every single ex that Terry had met thus far was at this wedding, Terry didn’t know. Plus there was probably more that he didn’t know. 

He had to admit, watching the Wayne contingent hobnob with the Dowd contingent was funny. How long would it take them to throw in the towel and abandon the reception?

Tim and Bernard had really invited everyone they could. The AA sponsor was there, still wiping tears from his eyes while Lian’s dad seemed to be laughing at him. Turned out he was a softy at weddings, apparently. 

The three of Tim’s friends that had given him the most incredible blackmail were talking to Bernard’s parents, and yep- there it was. His parents were out the door without even checking in with their son. Bart, Cassie and Kon were terrifying.

Colin and Miss B were talking in a corner, and if Terry hadn’t known how far gone Colin was on Damian, he’d think the animated conversation they were having might be reflective of something more, especially as Colin mimed throttling someone and Miss B laughed until there were tears in her eyes. Catholics were weird.

Cassandra spun in circles on the dance floor like a ballerina - on her tiptoes and everything - while Stephanie did the worm. Next to them, Kate Kane was dancing like Terry and Dana did at the club, which meant that it looked bizarre without anyone else dancing the same way. 

Lian, Milagro and Jon were sitting at a table, playing a card game. They seemed to be betting with the complimentary gas masks that had been given up, Lian had a pile next to her - some of those were probably stolen from other guests.

“Wait. Terry, what happened with Two-Face?” Tim asked Terry, grabbing him by the wrist as Terry went to knock the whiskey out of Bruce’s hand. Damian caught his eye, nodded, and moved in Terry’s stead. Terry was really starting to be fond of the guy.

“Congrats on the wedding, it was lovely. I really liked the part where your best man and maid of honour stopped that weird old dude from objecting.”  Terry told the happy groom who seemed embarrassed.

“Yeah, Damian’s grandpa is a creep. But what happened I just heard that he’d been spotted on his way here before the ceremony and then I saw him in the audience?”

Terry grimaced. “He made out with Bruce.”

“What?”

“Bruce, your dad?”

“I know who Bruce is - but they made out?”

“Yeah.”

“Jason owes me so much money .” Tim crowed, punching the air. “Fuck yes, eat that you zombie fucker!”

“...Tim? Little pitchers?” Bernard said with a slightly nervous laugh.

“What?” Tim asked, confused and then looked at Terry, blinked and blanched. “Sorry kid. I’ve got a friend who… told me that Two-Face is straight and we bet on it? Didn’t mean to use that kind of language.” 

Terry had heard worse language in kindergarten and Tim knew it. They were both Gotham boys. He narrowed his eyes at the newly married couple who radiated nervousness.

“...A zombie fucking friend? Who fucks zombies?” Terry asked sarcastically.

“...Ever hear of the Black Lanterns?”

Terry took a deep breath and then released it, slowly. “It’s your wedding day. My mother raised me better than this.”

( “I did? Barb, he thinks I did a good job….” was murmured in the crowd)

“You two go enjoy your reception, and I’m going to not think about any of that. Sheesh.” 

–

The wedding went great, overall. Sure, it was interrupted at the tail end of the reception by a giant robot trying to arrest Bernard for war crimes in another galaxy, but Starfire was at the wedding and handled it for them. 

When Terry asked Bernard about the war crimes, he said something about how a bachelor party with some of Tim’s friends had been a mistake and that it was mostly just property damage.

Terry was going to figure out what was with the weird shit this family said if it killed him—starting tomorrow.  

Chapter Text

Tim felt wretched. He had planned an incredible honeymoon. He had assistance from Babs in locking himself away from his systems, had a dozen of hsi friends covering his cases, his sources, and his emergency beacons. He’d brought no technology but his cell phone. 

Bernard deserved his full attention for once.

But something Ra’s had said to him before Kon and Cass escorted him out kept playing over and over in his mind.

“I have access to secrets about that new brat your father is keeping around that you’d never guess.”

What access? What secrets? What did that geriatric creep mean?

“Babe? You’ve been staring at the wall instead of the movie for ten minutes now. Wanna share with the class?” Tim jerked and looked at Bernard, who had paused the movie and was smiling at him indulgently.

“Sorry, I just…” Tim sighed.

Bernard patted his knee and got up, rummaging in his suitcase and returning with a gift bag. “I thought this might happen. This is for you, babes.”

“A gift?” Tim took the bag, pushing aside tissue paper. “I didn’t get you any… wait.”

He pulled out a key. 

“Somewhere in this room, there is a lock. Combine that key with the lock, and we have access to a secret room with a laptop, a bristol board, a printer, red string and pins.” Bernard told him and Tim stared at him, besotted anew.

“You knew?”

“That you’d get consumed with something you wanted to figure out on our honeymoon? I know you, Tim.” Bernard leaned back and picked up his champagne glass. Lifting his eyebrows, he toasted his new husband. “I’m ready to work on the conspiracy board, you better find that lock.”

“I could always just interrogate you and find out where it is,” Tim suggested archly and Bernard’s cheeks went a little pink.

He’d figure out Ra’s stupid secret later. His husband was handsome as heck right now, and Tim was ready to try some interrogation techniques he didn’t usually use.

—

“Okay so, you can go find Bruce and do whatever you want, got it?” 

“Got it.” Matt nodded at Terry. 

This plan was genius. Let Matt loose in Wayne Manor, let Bruce Wayne get distracted by Matt in an attempt to get under Terry’s skin like last time, and Terry could investigate at his leisure.

Matt had agreed to it right away when Terry asked him last night, and Terry had a rush of older brother fondness for his own personal chaos gremlin.

He’d even been waiting at the door when Terry came home, backpack over one shoulder, all gap-toothed smiles and excitement. He must really like Bruce Wayne. That was fine, Bruce Wayne had seemed to cheer up after terrorizing Terry’s nerves with their little escapade, so it was probably a win/win little scenario.

Once they reached the manor, Matt ran off, and Terry smirked after him. This was his best idea ever.

—

Terry was rifling through the papers in the third office he’d found so far, and yet again found nothing but details on galas, Wayne Enterprises projects, charities that the Wayne’s had funded, and pictures by Damian that had been hidden inside of folders, probably by charmed older brothers and a father. 

Nothing seemed suspicious at all, which was suspicious in and of itself. He hadn’t even found any embezzlement! He’d assumed a family so old would have kept dirty secrets in the paperwork, where no one would look. No hackers got into a folder at the back of your closet, only curious teenagers did. 

“Terry? What are you doing?”

Terry flinched at the sound of Bruce Wayne’s voice. Matt hadn’t even warned him! There went on fuzzy feelings of gratitude.

“Hey, Mr. Wayne. I’m uh… cleaning?” 

Bruce looked at the scattered papers all over the previously pristine desk and simply raised an eyebrow.

“It’s such a mess in here.” Terry added, slowly putting down the pet registration for Ace, so he wasn’t holding paperwork while he lied to Bruce Wayne’s face.

There was a long silence as Bruce waited Terry out and Terry refused to break.

Finally, he threw out the only distraction that he could think of. “So, where did you ditch Matt?”

“...Matt’s here?” Bruce asked, honest surprise painting his face.

Well. That was concerning.

—

“Okay, you go high, I’ll go low. I thought he’d beeline right for you, so if you’ve been in your usual spot than he could have gotten in trouble.” Terry said, almost bouncing with his anxiety. What if he’d gotten hurt? What if he’d broken something expensive? What if-

“Terry.” His voice was deep and grounding and broke through Terry’s panic. “Breathe. There’s more to search on the lower levels, I know my house better. You check the upper level and the attic, come meet me downstairs when you’re done. It will be okay.” Bruce reassured him, putting a hand on his shoulder before gently pushing him towards the stairs.

That made sense. Terry had thought there were more rooms upstairs, but Bruce grew up here, he knew it better. 

Terry took the stairs two at a time, shouting his brother’s name.

It took an hour to tear through the upper level. He’d go back and check each room more carefully, but at this point, he was just opening doors and scanning for a sign of an injured or laughing Matt. He ignored most of the decor and idiosyncrasies of the different bedrooms - except for one that was clearly that of a teenager, and had a light coating of dust over everything, whereas the rest of the home was either used and cared for, or closed off with dust covers over the furniture.

That must be Jason’s room. 

He was relieved not to see Matt in it, and when he closed the door, he felt like he was closing it on a ghost.

But no time to think about the Wayne Family Tragedy, he needed to make sure they didn’t have a McGinnis Family Tragedy and find his brother. The thought that his dad’s disappearance and probably death counted as a Tragedy flitted through his mind before he forced himself to focus. This wasn’t the time for grief.

Having done a cursory look through all the rooms, Terry found the entrance to the attic and went to do a more complete search up there before he came back down and combed through the bedrooms. 

He paused at the top of the stairs to the attack. 

Most of the Wayne attic was as you’d expert. Boxes and boxes, all neatly labelled. Christmas decor, Hanukkah decor, spare chandelier (it was a big box), photographs with each Wayne Family member’s names, first edition books that Jason hates, antiques we don’t want broken, antiques we don’t want to give away, clothes, clothes we hope Dick doesn’t wear again… Lots of boxes. All were labelled in neat, readable handwriting, with only a few exceptions where it was printed labels instead.

They were neatly stacked along the sides of the room, amongst larger pieces of furniture - bed frames, chests, chairs, things like that. 

Clearly, quite a few things had been shoved to the side. They were in less neat rows, skewed to the side to create enough space.

Space for what?

For a white chalk circle.

With candles all around it. 

Lit candles. 

There was a human skull in the centre of a lot of white chalk symbols and outlines, and both the eye sockets and the lines were glowing faintly. The skull had slimy remnants clinging to it in parts.

There were several dishes around the skull - one full of apple slices, one full of loose change, one full of water and one holding a father’s day card.

And one idiot little brother, half-turned away from Terry, a picture of their father at his feet and a knife in his hand .

Terry froze as Matt sliced into the back of his forearm and held his arm out, squeezing his fist. There were no words spoken, but when blood dripped to the floor, light exploded and filled the attic.

The only thought in Terry’s head in this moment was a string of expletives. He hadn't had a moment to think, let alone stop his brother.

When the light faded, Terry had to rub at them to get the spots out of his eyes. While he did so, he heard Matt.

“You’re not my dad! This isn’t fair! I did everything right! Go get my Dad!” The sound of the knife hitting a far wall and falling to the floor was a clattering sound that underscored the screamed words.

Terry couldn’t believe he had left his brother unattended enough that he could put together what he needed for a seance. He blinked furiously to clear his vision enough that he could get an idea of what his brother had summoned instead of their father’s spirit.

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t Warren McGinnis.

This spirit was as skinny as their dad, but was far more bald, far older than their dad had ever been, and had far better posture. Warren was always bending over a computer and it showed.

“I’m afraid that one Warren McGinnis did not appear to your circle, young Master. You made a good attempt at warding off unfriendly spirits taking advantage of an open door, but barring it to all but ‘patriarchs of this household’ left it open to not just your own family but that of the family who resides where you do your ritual.” The spirit spoke kindly enough, but was clearly chiding Matt about a loophole he’d left. 

“Matt, what the actual fuck.” Terry breathed.

“Language!” The ghost snapped.

“I wanted to talk to Dad! Leave me alone, Terry.” Matt was dangerously close to tears, smearing blood across his shirt as he crossed his arms. 

“You’re bleeding. Did you even clean that knife?” Terry moved closer, eyeing the hovering spirit carefully as he did so.

“He did not.” The spirit informed him. “There’s a medkit hidden in the box marked ‘Damian’s precious memories’ however, and it should be in fine enough condition to sterilize the wound.”

Huh. That was handy. Terry reversed his steps, fetched the medkit, and knelt in front of Matt. He didn’t ask Matt to show him his arm, he just held out a hand expectantly. 

Matt whined but let Terry examine his arm without an actual struggle.

“Good on you for not cutting your hands, most amateurs do that.” Sniffed the ghost. “It’s quite a bit more dangerous than many know.”

“You had a lot of experience with occultists in life?” Terry asked.

“You wouldn’t believe the sorts I had experience with, young Master Terrence.”

“You know his name?!” Matt asked with interest.

“I’m not so long dead that I have any interest in drifting away from this place.” The spirit sniffed.

“I kinda thought you were Thomas Wayne, since you were a patriarch of the Waynes.” Terry said slowly, holding Matt’s hand to keep his arm still while he sterilized the cut. You couldn't say the 45 years since Bruce Wayne's parents had been killed hadn't been a long time.

“No, Thomas and Martha have faded somewhat. They’re here and they’re gone again. And they sometimes haunt the Alley. But this was my home, and I still haunt it’s halls, it’s rooms, and it’s secrets. I was the butler here, I was the caretaker, and this family is my family. I am Alfred Pennyworth, and I have watched you take care of our boy and his children, Terrence.” The spirit offered Terry a pleased, proud little smile that made Terry feel warm and abashed. It was weird hearing him describe Bruce Wayne as a 'boy'.

“I’m getting paid for it.” He said, bending his head to the work of wrapping up Matt’s arm.

“He’s getting paid the big bucks.” Matt echoed. “And he’s not taking care of the rest of ‘em.” 

“Brat.” Terry muttered.

“I was paid too, and I believe you’ve heard them referring to me as their grandfather. Money doesn’t mean much to this family, they spend it like they spend their lives.” Alfred smiled a little. "And when you keep Bruce Wayne occupied, fed and in generally upbeat spirits, you aid everyone else in his circle.

That didn’t make sense to Terry, but he wasn’t calling out the ghost.

“Why’s your name Pennyworth if you worked for billionaires? Matt asked.

“Because I'm worth every penny.” The ghost named Alfred said, in such a deadpan delivery that Terry snorted. It was pretty funny. 

Matt pulled his arm back from Terry, examining his work. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

“I thought I’d see Dad again.” He whispered, shoulders slumping as the hand from his good arm skimmed over the bandage. Tears were dripping down his face. “I don’t remember what he sounds like anymore.” 

Terry was so, incredibly furious at Matt. This had been so dangerous, he’d hurt himself, he'd been carrying human remains around with him!

Terry got down on one knee and folded Matt up in his arms, in the tightest hug he possibly could, pressing his head into Terry’s shoulder with his hand. And Matt clung back, breaking down into broken, weeping sobs. Alfred was silent while Terry bowed his head and held on to his little brother.

Terry missed his father so much, it hurt so bad, but he needed to be the strong one for Matt. He couldn’t break down, he needed to be there for Matt to break down in his arms. Terry blinked back his own tears, and didn’t let them fall.

Alfred looked away politely, but exuded… waves of comfort, of understanding, of solemness that respected their grief. 

Once Matt cried himself out, Terry brushed his hair back. “I got you.” He whispered.

“ ‘ove you.” Matt mumbled into Terry’s shoulder, before pushing himself up and wiping at his eyes. 

“Handkerchiefs are in the box marked ‘Alfred’s linens’, just over there. Get a spare one to pick this nasty skull off my nice floors.” Alfred said, not unkindly, but extremely firmly. 

“‘Kay.” Matt agreed.

“Where did he even get a human skull?” Alfred muttered, his nose wrinkling as he looked at it.

“I think they had a beach field trip last week.” Terry said, grimacing.

“Beach - what, locally ?” Alfred was aghast. “And your mother allowed it?”

“We weren’t supposed to go in the water, but it’s the best place to find bones! They’re always washing up from all the murders.” Matt explained, wiping at his face with a handkerchief and handing Terry another one for the skull, because that was apparently Terry’s job. “It was the cleanest one there!” 

Terry had a headache. Alfred looked like if he had a head, he would too. 

“No more bringing home dead body parts!” Terry commanded.

“I remember when I thought that would work,” Alfred said with what sounded terrifyingly like empathy and wistfulness. 

“Okay.” Matt agreed, and Terry knew in his bones that he didn’t mean it and would absolutely do it again.

“Goddamnit.”

“Language!” Alfred scolded.

“He just raised the dead, he can hear the word ‘damn’!” Terry protested.

“You’re both too young for that kind of talk.” Alfred sniffed. “If you think a little light necromancy-”

“Light?!” Terry demanded.

“If you think that’s enough to mean you should have such abysmal language in such a young man’s lexicon, I despair. Jason had to go through far more before I gave up on curbing his tongue.”

It was weird for Alfred to be so casual about Jason, but Terry guessed it was less tragic that someone died when you were also dead and probably got to spend time with them.

“Now, before you dismantle the circle and let me go back to restfully watching over my family, let me give you some tips on handling my boy…” Alfred said with a sudden, wicked grin. 

Terry was all ears for any tips on handling Bruce Wayne, and Alfred had plenty. 

Chapter Text

“Mr. Wayne… can I talk to you about something?”

Bruce blinked at Terry, lowering his book on comparative alien spiritualities. “What’s wrong, Terry?”

Terry bit his lip and waggled his head from side to side. “I don’t know. It might not be any of my business. I really don’t want-”

“How much do you want, Terry?” Bruce sighed. He knew the drill by now. Dick had started this back-and-forth negotiating tactic and every one of his children had copied it. He thought it had been an effortless repetition, something the children just did, until he caught Damian instructing Duke on the best time to approach him. 

…He wasn’t proud that it had taken so long for him to catch on. But he was more than ready for Timothy to officially take the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ title from him at this point. He had been humbled on that front a long time ago.

“If you give me any more money, I’m going to puke.” Terry said, blanching. “I keep trying to throw out that damn credit card Mr. Grayson gave me and it keeps reappearing in my school locker.”

“Oh. Well. I will find out who’s doing that, it’s very,” What’s the word that Dick used to scream at him before he moved to Bludhaven? “Invasive.”

“I know! It’s Max’s boss though, he’s bribing her to actually do it.” Terry frowned. “Traitor.”

“She does work for him now, Terry.” Bruce pointed out, trying his best not to smile.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Okay, so he wasn’t doing good at not smiling. Odd. He usually was. “Next time I turn around, one of your ex-girlfriends is going to hire Dana or something. Or the squirt. At least my Mom already has a job.”

“We hire a lot of people in this city.” Bruce tried, getting nothing but a deeper scowl. Time for a tactical retreat. “...So what were you trying to say?”

“Oh yeah - is Damian …doing okay?” Terry shifted on his feet, his weight moving from one leg to the other, a naked sign of discomfort. “I feel like something’s…. Going on? Everything seemed okay at the wedding, but he still doesn’t have a job and you seemed like… concerned about that when you got us kidnapped.”

Bruce paused. “I think he’s fine. He knows he can just ask for help getting a job if he needs help.” He was taking a break from superhero work too, which was more of a concern, probably. Hmm.

“It’s just been a few months and he doesn’t seem like the relaxing type."

Bruce chuckled slightly, which was about equal to an unexpected snort from Dick. “No, he’s not. I think he would rather lose a limb than have an afternoon nap.”

“But he’s okay?” Terry pressed.

“Yes.” Bruce said firmly, because he had to be, and finally Terry nodded.

“Good. Just wanted to check in. I’m going to get this essay done.”

“Let me know if you need help.” Bruce told him, picking up his fork and taking the first forkful of a delicious, steaming hot pasta dish right next to the book he’d just put down. 

He should probably text Damian. 

But Jason hated it when the food he made Bruce went to waste.

-

Well, plan ‘distract him with emotions and create the need to do an unpleasant job he’ll want to put off while sneaking hot food right in front of him’ was going off without a hitch.

Terry needed to listen to butler ghosts more often.

-

On his way home through Gotham, Terry decided to swing by his favourite corner store to grab some snacks. A short-cut through an alley left him catching a glimpse of two of the local Bats, and he couldn’t help but duck behind an overflowing dumpster to listen in. The curiosity was too much - Robin hadn’t been seen since the alien robot incident.

“Nightwing. You have one month to get your affairs in order.” Robin told said vigilante haughtily.

“Say what now?” 

Terry’s jaw was slack. The Robin that had clung to the title for a decade and a half was threatening Nightwings life? This was a disaster.

“I don’t think I could possibly have been more clear. This foolishness is at an end.” Robin sniffed and raised his chin pointedly. He was a bit taller than Nightwing, though Terry had seen pictures from a decade ago and knew that wasn’t always the case. “It’s undignified for you to protest it.”

“Look, Robin,” Nightwing began, reaching towards his belt in a movement that was stopped along with his sentence as Robin interrupted harshly.

“I’m done with that name! I’m done with this life! You won’t see me in this costume again and I will not see you in yours for very much longer.” Robin’s voice was harsh, 

“...It’s been a long time with you in that uniform, Robin. It’s been a long time with me in mine.” Nightwing said slowly, his hand rising from his belt so he could cross his arms.

“It’s been long overdue. You’re finished.” Robin turned away. “Four weeks from today, Bludhaven and Gotham will say a permanent goodbye to your flashy acrobatics.”

With the sound of a grappling hook, Robin was gone, leaving Nightwing on the roof and Terry crouched in the alleyway.

Nightwing let out a long breath. “...I wouldn’t use the word flashy, exactly.” He mumbled before making his own exit.

….Was Terry supposed to… tell someone about this?

-

“Robin what?”

“I know! I thought Nightwing and Robin were friends, I saw Robin tend to Nightwing’s broken foot myself!” Terry was pacing around his living room.

Why this was the best place to report his serious civic safety concerns to the police commissioner… 

Ugh, he didn't want to think about it. 

Barbara Gordon frowned. tapping her fingers on the rim of her chair’s wheel. “It isn't… out of character for Robin to make death threats. But for it to send serious enough for you to be concerned is definitely …interesting, let's say.”

“Robin can't go full villain!” Terry insisted, hitting the wall with his fist. “He can't!”

Barbara pursed her lips to hide a smile. “I have to admit, it's almost… sweet, that you're so defensive about it. But this is Gotham.  Sometimes even the best heroes get their hands dirty, or change sides.”

“You don't understand!” He shouted, turning from the wall and gripping his hair with both hands. “It’s not just any hero!”

Mary returned from her brief use of the bathroom, and chuckled as she leaned down to kiss Barbara's cheek. “He's upset because he'll lose thirty bucks to Dana if Robin turns villain before they graduate.” She explained.

“We are so close!” Terry said in anguish. “He couldn't hold out?!”

Barbara blew a gust of air out of her nose. Why had she volunteered to be involved with teenagers again? 

Mary shook her head fondly at the dramatics that Terry was still performing in his agony of losing a bet to his girlfriend. “Do you want some coffee, busy bee?” She asked Barbara. “Two sugars and a cream, right?”

Oh yeah. That was why.

-

“Terry, what do you want to be when you’re grown up?” Terry said out loud, staring at his phone.

“Your boss is weird.” Max told him wisely, using tweezers to delicately place the wires just so on her latest prototype. At least she was doing something productive in their spare period. “I’m glad Mr. Wayne the Younger doesn’t pull that shit on me. Is he going to make you do the Myers-Brigg test? Because that’s-”

“A garbage personality test with imprecise and inconsistent results, I know!” He groaned, cutting her off before she could say it. “But I don’t know, maybe? He asked what my big three was in astrology, and I don’t think he believed my answer.”

“What was your answer?”

“Year of the Rabbit.”

Yeah. I don’t know why he wouldn’t believe that.” Max said slowly, “I mean, that’s four words instead of three, it’s basically more than he asked for.”

“I know, right?” Terry said, throwing his hands in the air, letting his phone fall backward on the desk. “Ghosts, astrology, and now life plans? What does any of this have to do with Bruce Wayne falling down sometimes?”

“Rich people.” Max grunted. She put the last touch on the prototype and sat back. “Y’know, my boss asked me the same question when he came back from his honeymoon. Maybe it’s just something old people ask?”

“Your boss asked what my life plans are?” Terry joked with a snort.

“You’re hilarious.” Max said. “No, I think he’s trying to poach me for Wayne Tech long term. He’s making noises about scholarships.”

“Hey, that’s not bad.” Terry said, impressed. “Some of those Wayne scholarships are cushy.”

“Like you’d know, little mister “has a Wayne credit card.”” Max snickered as Terry scowled at her. “He did ask me what you and Dana were planning on after that, though. He’s a nice guy, I didn’t think he’d remember Dana’s name.”

“His friends said he’s got more nervous tics than a dog at the anxious insect convention.” Terry told her. “What did you say I want to do?”

“Are you… trying to cheat off me for your life goals, McGinnis?” 

“No!” Max leveled a look at him and then made it worse by lifting one pink eyebrow. “Okay, yes, but don’t call me out on it.”

“You gotta have your own ideas about your own life, man.” 

“I don’t know. I’ll be Batman or something, I don’t know.” Terry tipped his chair backward and stared at the ceiling. “I’m 16, why am I supposed to know what I’m going to do next?”

“Eh, that’s what grown-ups want us to know. Anyways, I texted that to Mr. Grayson, here’s your phone back.” Max tossed his phone onto his chest and cackled as he scrambled to look. 

“Max! Seriously, come on!”

Mr. Grayson had just responded with a bat emoji so at least he didn’t seem mad about such a flippant reply.