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Chapter Text

Batman and Diana had beaten Clark to the Watchtower when he arrived, sitting in their reserved spots in a way that others would probably call stiff. After over a decade of working together, he could easily recognise the slight shift of their postures that spoke of casual comfort, or as close to it any of them ever got.

Batman’s message had specified that it wasn’t an urgent matter, so he had made sure to set up a reasonable excuse to slip away from work for once. There truly was only so many times his co-workers could excuse gastrointestinal issues before they grew concerned.

Diana was lucky that her day job was mostly a way to keep her from boredom and therefore much more flexible in the event of a crisis or emergency meeting.

If Batman had a day job, he didn’t let on about his League responsibilities having any sort of impact. Not that the bat let any of the League into any aspect of his personal life. For all Clark knew, Batman could be his co-worker at both of his jobs.

A part of him believed he would be able to recognise Batman out of the suit, if given the opportunity. (He was incorrect. Clark had met Bruce Wayne on multiple occasions, both as Clark Kent and Superman. The Robins had briefly considered placing a bet on when he would eventually make the connection but ultimately decided against it. It felt a bit too much like mocking a lost puppy.)

He took his seat with a grin that was a touch closer to Clark than Superman. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Batman didn’t wave off the apology exactly, but his face did something minute that Clark had learned to interpret as ‘don’t worry about it.’

“The United Nations have fears around our autonomy. They have decided that we have operated as an independent military unit outside of their supervision for too long and have chosen to do something to remedy this,” Batman stated, face blank as he looked at his co-leaders.

“Is this a declaration of war?” Diana asked, tense in a way that spoke of the energy coiled beneath her skin. “They cannot expect to win.”

“No,” Batman reassured. “They know that. They aren’t seeking to control the League, but to better understand it. It is my understanding that they think having some further insight into what we do might grant them some security that we aren’t plotting to overthrow their governments or otherwise misuse our power.”

Clark scrunched his nose in confusion. “They want our meeting logs?”

“Not exactly.” Batman made a shift that could almost be read as amusement. He clicked a button on the table and the hologram they used to plan missions appeared before them. A man’s face filled the screen, young, maybe thirty at the oldest. Attractive in a way that leaned more towards beautiful than handsome. Sleek cheekbones and delicate features and wide, bright blue eyes framed by thick lashes. His skin tone spoke of hours outside in the sun or perhaps a non-Western ethnicity. There was something familiar about him that tugged at Clark’s subconscious. “This is Richard Grayson. He’ll be temporarily joining the League as a representative of the United States law enforcement.”

Clark turned to Batman, unable to comprehend the information. “You’re allowing a stranger into the League?”

Across from him, Diana was still studying the hologram closely. She hummed, appraisingly. “He is very impressive, on paper.”

He looked back at the hologram, finally taking in the columns of information accompanying the photo. She was right, Richard Grayson had an impressive resume. Twenty-nine years old and already a respected member of the FBI in one of their more specialised departments. He’d worked his way up from beat cop at Bludhaven and had a long list of achievements to his name despite his young age.

He turned back to Batman, trying to settle his expression on stern and failing when faced with Batman’s unflinching gaze. “He’s a spy. There’s no other reason for them to suddenly insist on sending someone to check in on us.”

Batman hummed in agreement. “There has never been any intention to hide that. I believe they are hoping that he will bring back the information they seek whether we know what his mission is or not.”

“Obviously, we aren’t going to allow this,” Clark insisted. And then, when Batman remained silent, “Are we?”

“Better the threat we see coming than the one we don’t.”

Diana turned towards Batman, a confused frown on her face. “I have never known you to be reckless. Underestimating a potential threat is unlike you.”

Clark nodded his agreement, waiting for something, either denial or acceptance of Diana’s criticism. Batman ignored them both to glance at the picture of Richard Grayson. Something strange passed across his face, something that Clark couldn’t identity.

“I assure you, I would never underestimate him.”

He repressed the chill that threatened to rack his body, which made no sense because the Watchtower was climate controlled. “You’re serious about this?”

Batman met his gaze steadily. “I am.”

“Okay,” he said. “I trust you.”

“As do I,” Diana echoed.

It was blind trust, it had to be with the way that they knew nothing concrete about their co-leader. But he also knew many things about Batman. He knew that he was sharply intelligent and cunning and unrelenting when it came to completing a mission successfully. He knew the way his jaw shifted when he found something humorous and the wrinkle in his cowl that meant he was surprised. He knew that he cared for his team and would never willingly put any one of them in danger.

They shifted topics, covering the status of their many smaller team dynamics and the assortment of missions they were currently focused on. When it moved onto the Titans, Batman cleared his throat and announced that Nightwing would be stepping away for a few months.

It was a terribly-kept secret within the League that Nightwing was a part of the collection of mismatched heroes (and semi-reformed villains in the case of Red Hood) that Batman had grown strangely fond of over the years.

Diana spoke first. “Is Nightwing well?”

“Nightwing is fine,” Batman said, giving her the same reassuring gesture he’d given Clark when he arrived. Something shifted in his blank gaze, something that spoke of cunning and amusement. “I figured that I would even the playing field.”

“Oh,” Clark said, in understanding, at the same time that Diana said, “You’re sending him to infiltrate the FBI.”

They had many experienced shape shifters in the League, but Nightwing outmatched all of them in his ability to fall completely and effortlessly into undercover work.

There was a reason that Nightwing had been the one tasked with taking over the mantel of Batman when Clark and Diana had believed him dead. (But that is another story, for another time.)

“I am,” Batman said. “Anything that Richard Grayson discovers will come directly back to me and the appropriate actions will be taken to protect the League.”

Some of the tension that had made a home under his skin loosened.

Something pinged from Batman’s communications unit, a series of high frequency beeps that clearly meant more to him than they did to Clark, and Batman cleared the screen of the various mission reports they’d been discussing. “I thought it would be best for the two of you to meet him privately, before the introduction to the rest of the League.”

Nightwing? His overworked brain jumped to before he caught up and realised that Batman was referring to the FBI spy that they were allowing into their midst instead. He’d barely begun to nod his agreement when his super hearing picked up the sound of a Zeta tube arriving at the Watchtower. “He already has access?”

“I see no benefit in delaying the inevitable.”

Richard Grayson strolled into the room like he owned it. His suit was carefully pressed and altered to sit snug against his form, easily worth more than anything in Clark’s closet, maybe worth more than his apartment. His profile had said he was 5’9 but he stood with the confidence of a much taller man. While his hair had been dutifully gelled back in his picture, it now fell wildly around his face in a carefully intentional way. He presented an impressive and attractive picture of wealth and arrogance and competency.

He was familiar in a way that burned.

“Superman, Wonder Woman. A pleasure to meet you both,” Richard said, voice smooth and poised and known but just out of Clark's reach.

“Welcome, Richard Grayson.” Diana shifted to face him and that energy under her skin was back, ready for a fight if required. “I trust you can understand any hesitancy we may have around your presence here.”

Richard shifted his body language, just slightly, in a way that was silently reassuring. “Of course. I have no intention to cause you any trouble.”

It wasn’t until Richard turned to Batman that Clark realised that he’d left the man out of his initial greeting. This was typically the part where new members, or the law enforcement officers they worked with on the ground, would tense up. Batman didn’t hold the same do-gooder persona that the other two founding members of the League did. Many looked at him, all black cape and scowls and deep voice, and saw something more likely to linger under their beds at night than to help them across the street.

But the tension in Richard’s body relaxed, just the slightest bit, when faced with the bat.

“Bats,” he greeted, his smile just on the edge of too casual.

Batman nodded. “Dick.”

“You know each other,” Clark accused.

Batman did what constituted as a shrug in his minute language of subtle shifts. “Bludhaven is Gotham’s sister city. I have worked with Dick before when the need arose.”

“Right,” Richard, Dick, said, amusement evident in his tone. “Could even call us colleagues.”

Batman ignored him in a way that felt practiced. “The League meets semi regularly in its full capacity, outside of crisis events, but many of the smaller teams have weekly meetings. You are welcome to observe these.”

They moved onto the logistics of allowing an outsider to see behind the scenes. If Dick had concerns, he was good at hiding them. Instead, he took everything in stride, almost more comfortable interacting with the Big Three than some of the long-term members of the League.

He’d taken the spot beside Batman that was usually reserved for Nightwing, who’d fallen into the role of Batman’s second in charge over the years. Clark had met Diana’s eye at the bold move, even though Dick had no way of knowing that he was overstepping, but Batman had let the slight occur without calling him out on it so they followed his lead and remained silent.

There was something painfully familiar tugging at his gut as he watched Dick interact with Batman. Dick was comfortable in a way that made no sense but also made absolute sense if only he could figure out why.

Batman was explaining the Titans’ schedule, and Dick wasn’t even taking notes despite the complicated information he was supposed to be absorbing, but Clark’s mind kept drifting to Nightwing. The young hero was one of their best and it would be a painful hit for the League to lose his experience while he was undercover. But Nightwing had trained his team well. They would pull together without allowing for any slack to fall between the gaps his absence would cause.

It was almost painful to refocus his attention back on the mystery of Dick Grayson.

Batman said something that he didn’t fully catch, something about whether or not Dick would get along well with Kid Flash, and Dick’s semi-professional persona cracked with a laugh that echoed across the meeting room.

Something finally snapped into place.

He turned to Batman with a scowl, cutting off Dick’s response. “Did you think you could just bring him here under a different name and we wouldn’t put the pieces together?”

Batman stiffened, meeting his gaze before sharing a look with the young man beside him.

There was something heavy there, but Clark pressed on, disappointed in the subterfuge. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognise Richie Wayne, Batman?”

Dick - Richard ‘Richie’ Grayson-Wayne, heir of Gotham, eldest son of Brucie Wayne - blinked at him like he genuinely hadn’t expected anyone to make the connection. He pressed his lips together, and turned to stare at Batman with wide eyes.

Batman stared back, not pulling his attention away from the socialite for several long seconds, something akin to pain flickering across his face. He turned back to Clark with gentle body language. “My apologies, there was no intention to de-”

Richie cut him off - cut Batman off – and looked at Clark with the wide, dumbstruck eyes that he was familiar with. “Have we met before, Superman?”

He mentally stumbled. Because, well, no, Superman hadn’t met Richie before, but Clark had met him dozens of times at various high society events to interview the young man. “I keep up with the tabloids,” he replied, the excuse sounding weak even as he gave it.

Diana hummed in approval, like she’d just watched one of the younger members perform a great feat. “It is an impressive cover.”

Dick grinned, intelligence and cunning shining through as the ditz of Richie faded away in an instant. “Thank you.”

He had known Richie Wayne since he was a teenager. He’d spent hours with the man over the last decade and a half and he had never, not once, seen those wide blue eyes filled with anything but simple dumb joy. He’d also spent the last half hour watching Dick Grayson discuss the Justice League with Batman without flinching. Even if he’d paid for someone to create a fake FBI profile, there was deep rooted intelligence in the man before him that couldn’t be bought.

For the first time, he finally understood how so many people looked at Clark Kent and never saw Superman.

Dick caught his eye and smirked. “Come now, Clark. Timmy only took over the family business a few years ago. Who did you think was running it before then? Brucie?”

Lucius Fox, actually. But it made more sense for it to be Dick, if he wasn’t the air-headed pretty boy he played in the public eye.

Batman dragged the conversation back to their earlier topic and Clark was quickly pulled into discussing scheduling conflicts and emergency procedures.

The easy way Dick interacted with them made more sense with the revelation. This was a man who was used to being one of the most powerful people in the room but also the most underestimated. He’d come onto the scene - nine years old, not white, not rich - and wrapped high society’s assumptions around him like the circus tent he’d left behind.

The world saw the performance and never looked behind the curtain. He was disappointed to admit that he too had dismissed Richie without a second thought.

But Dick was sharp in a way not many people were. Sharp enough to catch Batman’s attention, apparently.

Time went quickly and soon enough Dick stood back up and sent them a grin that was too wide, too performative. “Well, I look forward to getting to know the teams. Superman, Wonder Woman, I’ll see you at the next meeting. Bats, see you…” he waved his hands in a way that seemed to mean ‘around’ as if he expected to see Batman earlier than the others.

Batman nodded, already focused on compiling the next document, like he didn’t see Dick as enough of a threat to spare him his full attention. “Drive safe,” he mumbled, softer than usual and starkly out of character.

Dick sent the bat an affectionate look and slipped out of the room.

He waited until he heard the Zeta tube depart before turning to Batman for an explanation.

“You know Richie Wayne. You’re,” he hesitated to say friends. There was mutual respect there, as well as some deeper familiarity, but it hadn’t felt like friendship. He borrowed Dick’s term instead, “colleagues.”

“Of a sort,” Batman replied, endlessly vague.

He exchanged a pointed look with Diana, cursing their co-leader’s private nature. “You knew the UN was going to send an agent up here to observe us and decided to get on top of it by getting close to him.”

Something hardened in Batman’s posture and it was impossible to forget why he was the unofficial leader of the League, as opposed to Clark or Diana. “I would never allow a stranger to infiltrate the League.”

“But how did you know it would be him?” Diana asked.

“They sent the best.”

He couldn’t stop his disbelief from showing. “And he’s the best they have?”

“Yes.” Batman never hesitated, always steady in his decisions with a conviction that Clark was sometimes jealous of, but he’d never seen him as sure of anything as this.

It wasn’t until he stepped into the Zeta tube an hour later that he realised.

Dick Grayson had called him Clark.

Chapter Text

Hal had been in a great mood until he’d gotten back to earth and found the world had gone to shit in his absence.

Luckily, the League had already done their best to sort out the problem by the time he’d arrived. Unluckily, they’d pulled him into clean-up duty and then made him sit through the debrief even though he had no fucking clue what they’d been fighting in the first place and had no desire to learn.

He needed to take a nap. For a week.

Instead, he was slumped in his usual spot as Supes droned on about… something. Half the room seemed to be paying attention, but the others seemed to be on his side about wanting to wrap the whole thing up.

It was just the older generation of heroes left, although he’d spotted some of the Titans on the battlefield. Why they got to sneak away before debriefing, he had no clue. They were young. Surely, they had more energy for the late-night talks than he did.

Not that he was old. He was just, experienced.

Yeah.

The new guy was sitting up the front, almost tucked into Batman’s side, wide awake despite the late hour.

Or, well, not the new guy, exactly. Because that implied that he was some new hero instead of a fed with too much unearned confidence. He’d shown up a month ago to ‘observe’ them.

Spooky had barely let him out of his sight since then, even forcing him into Nightwing’s usual spot like he was the kid who couldn’t be trusted to sit at the back of the classroom.

Win-Win, really. Spooky was too busy to notice any mistakes Hal made and the Fed couldn’t do any sneaky shit while he was up there.

Although, if Spooky scared the shit out of him - a valid response, honestly - the Fed didn’t let on. Instead, he even went as far as to lean closer to the bat and point out something in the debriefing notes they’d all been forwarded.

Hal waited for the inevitable blow up. Really, someone should have warned the guy that Spooky wasn’t big on criticism or having people in his personal space. But Spooky nodded and said something quietly to the Fed and then just… moved onto the next point.

Huh.

No explosion. Not even a glare. For Spooky, that had been almost friendly.

He really needed that nap.

He survived the rest of the meeting by doodling in the margins of his report with the stylus that was usually tucked into the side of his tablet. He absorbed nothing, but he’d track Barry down later and ask for a recap if it seemed important.

Spooky looked around the room one last time before he announced that they were free to go home. Most of the heroes headed straight for the Zeta tubes, although a handful stuck around to talk to the Big Three. The Fed hovered at Spooky’s side.

Hal had no intention of sticking around and getting roped into more work, but he also preferred to avoid the congestion of the Zeta tubes so soon after a meeting, so he strolled down the hall and took a bathroom break to waste time. When he was finished, he snuck back past the meeting room, taking note that it had cleared out and left just the Big Three behind, quietly discussing something he didn’t want any involvement in.

He was nearly at the Zeta tubes when a voice caught his attention.

He wasn’t friends with everyone in the League, especially not the younger members who preferred to associate with their peers more than the OGs. But he knew them enough to recognise that the voice didn’t belong to any of the heroes he’d seen in the battle.

“Have you considered not doing that?”

Hal crept around the corner to the kitchen until he could see inside while staying hidden.

The Fed was sitting on the counter, legs swinging gently against the cabinet doors. His suit jacket was missing and the first three buttons of his dress shirt were popped open, showing a surprising amount of golden skin. The Fed was shorter than most of the male presenting adult League members but he was almost all legs and his fitted suit pants did nothing to hide his best assets.

Hal’s brain fizzled out for a moment because he wasn’t immune to a gorgeous twenty-something draped across the counter like he belonged there.

And then his brain rebooted and caught up to the fact that Spooky was definitely still in the meeting room. It wasn’t like there was an official rule that said the Fed wasn’t allowed to be in the Watchtower unaccompanied - and really, what was he going to do in the kitchen anyway, especially looking like that - but the League had quietly agreed that it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Have you considered not being such a mother hen?” A second voice answered, from further into the room.

Hal’s overtired brain took an extra moment to place the voice, ruling out any of the main team, but before he had the chance to get there on his own, Red Robin stepped into view.

The Fed raised his hands placatingly. “I’m just saying, your bed would be comfier than the control room.”

Well shit. Was the Fed trying to seduce Red Robin, of all people? He was a little on the young side for Hal’s personal preference, barely into his twenties, but to each his own between consenting adults. Besides, the Fed wasn’t that much older than the young hero.

Red Robin stepped right up to the Fed and wrapped his fingers around one of his delicate ankles, lifting both of those long legs up - and Hal had seen a film or two that started exactly like this - but when Red Robin dropped down into a squat, he opened the cabinet door, pulled out a large thermos, closed the door and then dropped the Fed’s legs like they weren’t the most enticing thing in the room.

Before he could move away, the Fed leaned forward, placing his hands on Red Robin’s shoulders to catch his full attention. “I’m serious, Red.”

Red Robin gripped the thermos tightly between his hands. “I have reports to analyse.”

“They’ll still be here in the morning.” The Fed gently pried the thermos away and placed it haphazardly behind him, not looking away from Red Robin. “I’m headed home. Come with me.”

Red Robin held out for a lot longer than Hal would have if the Fed had turned those baby blues his way, but he eventually deflated, slumping forward to press his forehead against the Fed’s shoulder. “Fine,” he said, muffled against the crinkled fabric.

The Fed ran his right hand down Red Robin’s back, a satisfied grin on his face. After a few seconds he gently moved Red Robin aside and hopped off the counter. “Good. I’ll let B know. Do not fill that up with coffee before we head out. I’ll know.”

“Dick,” Red Robin muttered, exasperated.

For a moment, Hal thought it was an insult before he remembered that a few of the other members called the Fed that as a nickname.

He scampered out of the way before the Fed turned the corner, ducking out of sight as the agent skipped down the hall towards the meeting room.

Well. His life had just gotten a lot more interesting. Barry was never going to believe this.

Chapter Text

Unlike a lot of his co-workers, Barry looked forward to the monthly team meetings for the senior Justice League members. It was interesting to hear what was happening across the country, not just the big stuff that made the news but also the little things that he missed out on while he was distracted with Central.

But mostly, he liked the excuse to see his friends. Not that he didn’t have friends back home, because he did and he loved them dearly, but he was the top hero in Central (sorry, Wals) and therefore the one that all the responsibilities fell to. It was nice sometimes to not be the most powerful person in the room. To let the Big Three step up and be the focus for a bit.

These were the friends who got it in a way that none of the other heroes back home could.

Plus, he usually hung around long enough to steal Hal and Ollie away for a Beer and Bitch session afterwards (although in Barry’s case it was more a Star Labs-Made Cocktail and Bitch session). He briefly considered extending the invitation to Dick, before deciding that he probably shouldn’t be given any further chances to accidently reveal his and his friends’ identities to the FBI agent across the table from him.

He liked Dick. Despite being closer to Wally’s age than Barry’s and probably wildly out of his depth, he had never faltered in the few months he’d been tagging along to team meetings. Anyone who could survive that long in the chaos that was their team deserved a celebratory drink or two. Didn’t hurt that the few conversations he’d had with the guy had revealed a sly humour that had been unexpected but not unwelcome.

He'd just have to be extra careful not to slip up and call anyone by their names. Easy peasy. Maybe he could somehow convince Dick that ‘Ollie’ was some sort of Arrow related nickname instead of, you know, his real name. Or part of it. The guy went by Dick, surely he would believe that Barry had given his friends completely unrelated nicknames if he slipped up.

Mind made up, he grabbed his tablet with the intention of sharing his idea in the group chat he had with Ollie and Hal. They were sitting on either side of him, but if he leaned across to whisper then Batman would give him The Look. At the head of the table, Clark shifted in a way that signalled he heard something that Barry and the other non-super hearing heroes couldn’t. A moment later, the sound of people arriving in the Watchtower drifted down the hall from the Zeta room.

He picked out Roy’s voice first – the Outlaws, then, finally back – followed by Kori’s and then Red Hood’s heavily modulated one after. The three made their way past the meeting room, Roy and Red Hood pushing each other half playfully while Kori watched on with amusement. Before they could move on, Red Hood glanced towards the people gathered in the meeting room and looped back around to slip through the open door. Roy and Kori followed without hesitation.

Barry wasn’t sure how he felt about the ex-crime lord, honestly. He’d gone from never having heard of him to suddenly knowing a lot about him, nothing good, and then a few months later Batman of all people had declared him reformed and refused to discuss it further. The rest of the League had gone along with it because it was Batman and you didn’t contradict Batman. Plus, the other two of the Big Three seemed okay with it, although in the early days he’d caught Clark also watching Red Hood cautiously.

Initially, he had assumed that Batman was sleeping with him. He wouldn’t be the first hero to cross contaminate their dating pool with their rogues gallery. Dating sucked when you were dressing up in costumes after hours, on both side of the field. Barry himself wasn’t immune to the lure of someone who he didn’t need to lie to. If he’d let Captain Cold slip through his fingers a few times in his younger years just to meet up with him later, who had to know?

It had been four years since the initial rise and subsequent brushing aside of Red Hood’s criminal empire. He’d made a home for himself in the Outlaws and seemed content to stick around. If there had ever been something more between the anti-hero and the bat, neither of them let on.

Sure, Batman had unofficially claimed Red Hood as part of his little Batgang - no one could get away with half of the nonsense Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin and Robin got away with without meaning something to Batman - but he was pretty sure it wasn’t because Batman was sleeping with any of them.

Especially Nightwing, if he’d interpreted Wally’s wandering eyes correctly the last few times he’d been around the two of them.

Red Hood strolled into the room like he wasn’t interrupting an official League meeting. Instead of telling him to get out, Batman sighed and refocused on the next slide.

Definitely part of the Batgang.

Roy leaned against the back of Ollie’s chair, ignoring the look his father sent his way, while Kori hovered close by, never far from her teammates.

Red Hood wandered right up to the head of the table and draped himself over the back of Dick’s chair, chin resting on the top of the agent’s head, arms hanging across his shoulders to rest limply on his chest.

The room held a heavy breath.

Dick reached up and pat one of Red Hood’s gloved hands absent-mindedly, not looking away from his own tablet.

“The following point of interest…” Batman continued, launching into the next topic as if there wasn’t an ex-crime lord almost cuddling the FBI agent that had been sent to spy on them.

Red Hood reached down and poked at the screen of Dick’s tablet, swiping back a slide. Dick mumbled something that might have been an explanation of the meeting agenda. It was a very normal exchange, except for the fact that Red Hood didn’t really touch any of the League outside of the Outlaws and the Batgang. Besides, the Outlaws had been away on a deep space mission for the majority of the time that Dick had been working with the League, so they would have barely had any chance to meet, much less become whatever this was.

Barry met Ollie’s eyes and widened his own in a way that hopefully portrayed enough of his confusion for the archer to understand.

Ollie blinked back at him, clearly echoing his thoughts.

In unison, they turned to look up at Roy, questioning.

Roy looked down at them, glanced pointedly at Red Hood and Dick, looked back. And grinned.

Not helpful.

Barry turned to try and loop Hal into their silent conversation, but the Lantern was staring at Red Hood and Dick with zero subtly. While Barry and Ollie were lost by the lack of information, Hal looked overwhelmed.

Suddenly, Barry remembered the fever dream that was Hal two months earlier. Clearly sleep-deprived, he’d tracked Barry down and told him that Dick was sleeping with Red Robin. Barry had laughed, told him to get some sleep and then promptly dismissed the whole thing as Hal going a little bit loopy in his exhaustion.

Hal, clearly, had not let the idea go as easily.

Dick shifted in his seat, the first sign of discomfort he’d shown since the ex-crime lord had chosen him as a cushion. “Li- Hood. Sharp.”

Red Hood made a sound that could have been a snort, but with the heavy modulation of his helmet it was anyone’s guess. Standing up, he reached for the back of the helmet, removed it in a well-practiced move and dropped it onto the table in front of the FBI agent.

He plopped back into his position, face almost nestled in Dick’s hair.

Most of the League had seen Red Hood outside the helmet at least once over the past four years, but it still wasn’t a common sight. Dick, who had definitely not seen Red Hood without the helmet, who had likely already been an FBI agent back when Red Hood was at the top of their Most Wanted list, didn’t even look up and try and get a glimpse.

Not that it would have helped much, with the domino covering Red Hood’s eyes. But still, not even a twitch.

Without the helmet he was years younger than most would expect of an ex-crime lord. Early-to-mid-twenties now, but the first time Barry had seen him unmasked he was very clearly still a teenager (that, more than anything else, had helped to convince Barry that Batman wasn’t sleeping with the guy). A very buff teenager, but definitely under twenty. Over the years, he’d somehow only gotten bigger, until he towered over even Batman.

Draped over Dick, the size difference was insane.

But he turned his face further into the mop of Dick’s hair and for a moment all Barry could see was a little kid. Dick reached up with the hand not holding the tablet and threaded his fingers gently through Red Hood’s hair.

Batman flicked to the next slide without comment.

Kori stepped closer to lean into Roy’s side, watching Red Hood melt into Dick with fondness in her gaze. She caught Barry’s curious look.

“Rough trip?” Barry asked, gently. Taking note of the way Roy had remained close to Ollie’s chair, despite his usual avoidance of his father.

Kori’s smile was a little less graceful than usual. “We could all use a reminder of home, I think.”

He didn’t point out that she was tucked into Roy’s side, had barely left him for a moment, while they both kept Red Hood carefully in view.

Home, she’d said. And the first person Red Hood had sought out was Dick Grayson.

Barry didn’t invite him out for drinks.

He figured Dick had something more important to take care of.

Chapter Text

Officially, the optional quarterly meeting was to work on team strengthening strategies. Unofficially, it was an excuse for the younger team members to take over the Watchtower for a movie night every few months.

Most of the senior team attended too, either bribed or blackmailed by their younger counterparts, or just genuinely excited for an excuse to socialise. Oliver usually preferred to take advantage of a guaranteed quiet night in with a bottle of top shelf liquor. But Roy had shown up at the house earlier that day and mentioned that he would be at the meeting, which was as close as a direct request for Oliver to be there as he would get.

So, he’d come along. And Roy had immediately abandoned him to hang out with his friends.

But every now and then Roy glanced in his direction, like a kid seeking out their parents in the crowd during their middle school recital. Not that Oliver had ever attended one, which was, perhaps, the point.

He stayed.

Roy had been softer since his last mission, a week earlier. He got like that sometimes, not soft, never soft, not with Oliver, but softer. It would last a few weeks at most and then Oliver would do something to remind him why he preferred space and Roy would be distant again.

Roy and his Outlaws had crowded into the far corner, anti-social as ever, smoking something that probably wasn’t a cigarette. Not that they should have been smoking anything inside.

At least they’d chosen a spot far enough away from the youngest heroes to prevent second-hand smoke.

The youngest of the League, mostly sidekicks and heroes that were too young to really count yet, were gathered off to the side of the room playing board games in the dim lighting under Superman’s all-seeing gaze. Robin, the newest vigilante to have emerged from Gotham and immediately be unofficially claimed by the bat, seemed to be attempting to teach Clark’s youngest how a playing card could also be used as a weapon if thrown correctly.

Not going to touch that. Someone else could deal with the assassin-like sixteen-year-old. Oliver had enough to handle with his own projectile throwing offspring.

On the other side of the room, the newer generation of the Titans were heavily invested in the movie that someone had projected onto the wall like a cinema screen. Red Robin and Superboy were debating whether the plot twist was obvious or not. Loudly. Their teammates seemed interested enough that they made no move to shut them up.

And then, taking up the prime real estate in the middle of the room, hogging all the best cushions and bean bags, were the original Titans. They were tangled together in a literal pile of limbs, like a mass of writhing vines rather than a group of adults. In the flicking light of the movie, it was difficult to pick out individuals, but if the teammates had any issues with the proximity, they didn’t show it.

The senior League members were interspersed throughout the room but left the younger team members alone for the most part.

The room was almost nauseating in the wash of vibrant colour that that many superhero costumes in one place caused. Usually, team bonding night was a casual affair for those who were comfortable sharing their civilian identities, but with Dick Grayson still hovering in the periphery they’d decided against that this time.

Speaking of the fed, Dick slipped into the room. He was devoid of his usual suit jacket but wore a nicely fitted pair of dress pants and a crisp button-down shirt that was as expensive as anything in Oliver’s wardrobe.

Which wasn’t surprising, considering he had access to more money than God.

Oliver wasn’t sure how so many of the League had missed the memo that their little fed was a billionaire and at this point it was more entertaining to watch than let anyone in on it.

He’d grown up with Bruce Wayne, obviously he’d met his eldest son. When Dick had gone into law enforcement instead of sitting around spending his Daddy’s money, most of high society dismissed it as a spur of the moment decision. Let the rich boy play at being a cop to keep him busy.

Of course, Dick wasn’t as air-headed as he played to the public eye. None of them were.

Oliver himself had taken advantage of the playboy allegations more than once, not that they were wrong. Even Brucie had a layer of substance under all that absurdity.

Oliver expected him to beeline to Batman, never far from the bat like a lost duckling, but a bright, curly head popped up from the middle of the Titans pile and Dick hesitated.

Kid Flash exchanged a look with Wondergirl and grinned in a way that was immediately unnerving. A spark of lightning lit up the room, shooting between the Titans and the FBI agent and back again, and then Dick was gone.

Kid Flash’s vibrant hair was barely visible amongst the other Titans. There was no sign of Dick.

Oliver looked around the room, hoping someone else would step in, and met Batman’s gaze. He tilted his head towards the Titans, questioning.

Batman shook his in response.

Okay then. Not his problem.

If Batman was fine with Kid Flash kidnapping their fed, who was he to interfere?

Wally was what, thirty? Thirty-one, now? Let Dick spend some time with people his age for once. As long as they returned him by the end of the night, it probably wouldn’t cause any international declarations of war from the UN or the Prince of Gotham.

Better than letting him spend the night around the Outlaws. Red Hood probably would actually kidnap him with the way he’d been all over the fed the week prior.

Oliver didn’t believe Hal’s theory that Dick was sleeping with both Red Robin and Red Hood, but there was clearly some sort of history between them. They’d all crawled out of the hellhole that was Gotham, that was bound to leave a mark.

Last week, Red Hood had been vulnerable in a way that Oliver had rarely seen, even within the safety of… whatever was happening between Red Hood, Roy and Starfire (Roy had called out of Christmas lunch the year before because he and Kori were spending the day with Red Hood and his family instead. Oliver had no intention of pressing further. He wasn’t blind to the casual touches they shared).

If Red Hood was concerned at all by the Titans’ actions, he didn’t show it. Oliver could almost assume he hadn’t noticed, but while Roy’s eyes wandered back to him again, Red Hood’s flickered between the various groups as if checking on his flock.

The Outlaws were pressed together at multiple points. Red Hood was unmasked aside from the Domino and the next time Roy exhaled, he leaned in close enough to breathe in the smoke. One hand was tangled in Kori’s hair, almost absentmindedly, like it was more about knowing she was there than getting her attention, and the other wrapped around Roy’s fingers and brought them to his mouth to take a hit of the blunt the archer held.

Roy couldn’t have brought home a normal pair, no, he had to choose the Alien Space Princess and the Notorious Gotham Crime Lord.

But he was happy, so Oliver turned a blind eye and waited for the day that Roy shared more than snippets of his life.

Barry slid up beside him, offering a selection of finger foods from his overflowing plate. Oliver selected a few crackers and a carrot stick before noting Barry’s look of judgement and picking up a mini cupcake as well.

“No Hal?” Oliver asked, not seeing the Lantern in the room.

“Nah,” Barry said, around the donut he’d shoved in his mouth. At Oliver’s look of disgust, he chewed and swallowed before finishing his sentence. “Convinced him to get some rest.”

“Didn’t want him to get any more ideas about our resident fed?” Oliver translated.

Barry shrugged. “That too. But, you know, last week was…”

“Weird,” Oliver confirmed. “Not everything is about sex, though.”

“No, I get that. Even though it makes more sense than anything else I can think of. I can see where Hal’s coming from.”

Oliver nodded in agreement, meeting Roy’s eyes across the room and then losing him back to his teammates.

Barry’s grin turned sly. “Although, I do think that maybe some of that is just projection.”

“Hal wants to fuck Dick?” Oliver let the idea settle for a moment. “Never mind, of course he does.”

Dick finally popped his head up from the middle of the Titans. His hair, usually tussled in a purposefully messy style, looked like someone had ran their fingers through it and turned that mess into something genuine. He always presented himself as well put together and capable, even when faced with Batman on one of his less friendly days, but half an hour amongst the Titans had left him flushed all the way down to his exposed neck where someone had popped open the first three buttons of his shirt. His grin was wide and relaxed in a way Oliver hadn’t seen before.

Beside him, Kid Flash’s curls shone in the light of the projection, completely unruly. He leaned against Dick’s side and said something that made the socialite tilt his head back and laugh.

Oliver wasn’t surprised he’d managed to impress the Titans. You didn’t survive twenty years in high society without learning how to smooth talk your way into people’s inner circles, especially when you were an orphan circus kid. Whatever hazing the Titans had peddled out, Dick had given it right back.

“Oh,” Barry muttered, eyes wide, a croissant halfway to his mouth. He glanced between Dick and Wally like they held the answer to some great mystery. “Oh.”

Oliver looked back to see what had caused that tone but the two younger men had been sucked back into the mass of the Titans and not even Kid Flash’s hair was visible anymore. “What?”

Barry shoved the croissant into his mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing. “Actually,” he said, grinning, “I don’t think Hal is Dick’s type.”

Oliver had seen the people who hung off Dick’s arms at Galas, both men and women, always gorgeous. Hal wasn’t hideous, even if he was a little older than Dick’s usual assortment of lovers. But despite how much Oliver pressed for an answer to the cryptic statement, Barry refused to elaborate, quiet for possibly the first time in his life.

Later, when the ‘meeting’ was wrapping up for the night, Roy walked him to the Zeta tubes. He didn’t say that he was glad Oliver had come, but he did remind him of the date for the next one which was basically the same thing.

“I expected Nightwing to make an appearance,” Oliver remarked, looking for a reason to delay activating the Zeta. “He managed to sneak away during his last undercover job a few times.”

Roy didn’t press his Zeta either. Looking over at Oliver like he was trying to figure out which arrowhead to use, he said, “he was here.”

There had many black and blue costumes tucked into the crowd, but none with Nightwing’s distinctive finger stripes that he’d noticed. “Must have missed him.”

Roy grinned, something like amusement in his tone. “Must have, yeah.”

“It’s late,’ Oliver admitted, running out of reasons to delay his parting.

Roy hummed his agreement, glancing back towards the room where his partners would be waiting. “Best to head off, I guess. See you around.”

“Goodnight, Roy.” Oliver moved forward and activated the Zeta, stepping inside. Before the door could close, he reached out and held it. “Come by the house for breakfast tomorrow.”

Roy blinked and then pulled his phone out, lit the screen up to show the time - well past midnight - and winced. “Brunch?”

“Yeah, sure. Brunch.” Oliver hesitated. “You can bring them, if you want.”

Roy’s face softened, not soft but softer. “I’d like that. Hood has plans with his brothers, but Kori will be free.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

Eventually, Roy would retreat again, but for now Oliver would hold onto softer while he still could.

Chapter Text

Diana adjusted her armour with practiced movements and wondered if there would come a time when she felt her true age and passed the mantle onto the newer generation of heroes. One of the downsides of immortality was that even if she decided to take a few decades off, inevitably she would be pulled back onto the frontlines.

It was what she was made for, after all.

Robin walked into the room, trailing closely after Batman. He met her gaze with too many years of experience for a teenager before turning his attention back to his mentor.

“Have I not proven my capacity on a battleground adequately?” Robin asked, his pride barely covering the tinge of insecurity in his tone.

“This is not up for discussion. You will remain here.”

“You are not thinking as a leader and it is clouding your judgement,” Robin accused.

Batman paused at that, looking down at the young hero with something heavier than mentorship. “Be that as it may, you have your orders.”

Quieter, not breaking the stare-down with Batman, Robin spoke. “You would not have prevented the others from assisting in this battle.”

There was tension in Batman’s posture. Diana didn’t think it was from the upcoming fight.

He reached down and touched Robin’s head, settling down a lock of unruly hair. “You are not like the others.”

Robin scoffed but didn’t brush him off. “I am unhappy.”

“I don’t need you to be happy, I need you to be safe.” Batman adjusted Robin’s cape like a parent setting their child up for picture day. “Keep an eye on Dick for me.”

Robin rolled his eyes and stepped towards the door, presumably to go find the FBI agent as instructed, but he hesitated by the exit, not facing Batman. “You will come back?”

“I promise,” Batman reassured.

It wasn’t a promise that a warrior could freely give and all three of them knew it, but Robin took the final step and disappeared from view.

“He’s experienced,” Diana pointed out, rationally.

“He’s sixteen,” Batman replied, like he hadn’t let other sixteen-year-olds join worse fights before.

Diana let the topic drop and focused on readying herself for the fight instead.

The fight was brutal. They always were.

Civilians and cinema portrayed battle as something glamorous, clashing steel and impressive moves and time for dramatic monologues, but it was rarely the case. Diana had seen enough battles to know they never changed at their core.

War was always a scythe swinging indiscriminatingly on both sides of the battlefield. When it came to watching someone take their final breath, eyes wide with panic, fingers reaching out for human touch, it didn’t matter if they were friend or foe.

She would never agree that war was necessary. But if she sat back then the body bags would hold more faces she recognised than ones she didn’t.

So, she went. And she carried every loss under her skin.

Her bones had grown so very heavy over the years.

She knew something was wrong before anyone told her.

She’d lost her two co-leaders in the chaos and it wasn’t until all that was left of their enemies was blood and ghosts that she checked in via comms.

Clark’s voice was muffled as he told her their location.

It had been four years since Diana and Clark had realised, three months too late, that the Batman they’d been working with during that time had been a replacement. Nightwing had explained Batman’s death with a professional detachment that hadn’t matched his shaking hands. It didn’t matter that they’d gotten their Batman back nine months later, only slightly worse for wear, Diana had never forgotten that he was the most vulnerable of the three of them since.

She was harshly reminded of the fact when Clark turned to her, cradling Batman in his arms. It was hard to see with the bulky black armour in the way, but she could smell the blood.

“He’s alive,” Clark whispered, voice hoarse. “But not for long. His ribs are broken, one punctured his lung. I need to-”

She waved him off. “Go. I’ll finish up here.”

Clark adjusted Batman to avoid any further injury and flew off, already instructing the team back at the Watchtower to prepare the med-bay for surgery.

News spread quickly of their fallen leader and the rest of the ground teams sped through the clean-up until Diana felt comfortable enough taking their advice when they told her to go ahead and let them finish up.

When she got there, it was chaos.

In the main meeting room, Red Robin and Red Hood stood guard around Robin, although whether they were protecting him or the rest of the room was difficult to tell. The youngest Gothamite had a katana in his grip and was loudly threatening to use it if he wasn’t shown to Batman immediately. What he expected to do if he got his wish, she didn’t think he knew.

Further in, her keen hearing picked up Dick’s voice mixed with Hal’s as they argued. The Lantern had apparently decided to pull the FBI agent away as a precaution when they brought Batman in and wasn’t allowing him to return to the others lest something be revealed that shouldn’t be.

“And if they decide to unmask him while you are too focused on me, what then, Red Robin?” Robin prodded, mocking with a sharp edge of cruelty as he spoke the name so close to his own.

“There are protocols in place to protect his identity. What are you going to do? Threaten him into good health?” Red Robin yelled back, battlefield dirt still coating his skin as it did for almost everyone in the room.

The protocols weren’t much. Batman wore a domino under his cowl, much like Red Hood did under his helmet, and the only person authorised to give him medical treatments was someone he’d selected personally from a small clinic in Gotham. She’d come immediately every time they’d called.

“Robins,” Red Hood snapped. “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”

“Because that’s helpful,” Red Robin retorted.

“This isn’t my fucking job and you know it,” Red Hood replied, sounding lost and frustrated as he moved to better block Robin from the rest of the room.

Barry and Oliver caught Diana’s eye as they hovered between the Gothamites and the rest of the Watchtower, but she didn’t know what to tell them.

In another room, there was a gasp and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor and then Dick Grayson was in the doorway. His chest heaved from his short run through the Watchtower.

There was blood under his fingernails.

Ignoring the others in the room, he walked briskly towards the three Gotham vigilantes, wiping the blood off on his expensive dress pants as he went. Red Robin and Red Hood parted immediately. Diana saw Dick drop to his knees and take Robin’s hands in his own before the two older vigilantes closed ranks and hid them from view.

Hal was in the doorway a moment later, bloody scratches across one cheek, left arm cradled delicately in his right. He looked around the room with wide eyes.

“He broke my arm.”

Diana frowned and stepped forward. “Are you okay? I can take you to med-bay and have a look at it.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t… He broke my arm. Like, like it was nothing to him. He disarmed me without even trying. One second I was in control and then he was gone and my arm was broken.”

The room turned to look at the Gothamites gathered in the corner. Red Hood and Red Robin were doing a good job of keeping the other two out of sight, but Diana could make out gentle reassurances from the eldest to the youngest. In Dick’s presence, all the Gotham heroes had lost some of the tension from their bodies.

After a moment, Dick stood and placed a hand on Red Hood’s shoulder, nodding to both him and Red Robin without taking his other hand away from where he was carefully holding Robin to his side. Red Hood and Red Robin stepped aside to let him stand between them.

“I’m taking Robin for some air,” Dick said, smooth and confident despite being the only civilian in the room.

“Like fuck you are,” Hal said, looking over at Diana like he expected her to step in where Batman couldn’t.

They all knew Batman had grown fond of the Gotham heroes, none more so than the youngest amongst them. His refusal to let Robin attend the fight earlier spoke enough about how much he went out of his way to protect the teenager.

But Red Hood and Red Robin made no move to protest Dick’s involvement with Robin, while they’d prevented the rest of the room from getting a glimpse of him earlier. Batman had selected Dick personally to be their observer, despite what the UN may think. Dick had made sure to wipe the blood from his hands before he touched Robin.

Surprisingly, it was Barry that stepped in. “It’s okay.”

Oliver nodded his agreement, watching Dick with a familiarity that didn’t make sense.

Diana met Dick’s gaze and stepped away from the exit.

He shot her a grateful smile but quickly focused back on the younger men around him. “Reds, go to med-bay and keep an eye on B.”

Red Hood leaned lightly into Robin’s side and Red Robin ruffled the teenager’s hair before they dutifully left towards med-bay.

Dick walked Robin towards the exit, not towards the Zeta tubes but towards the hallway that led to the gardens that Nightwing had insisted on. Before he left, he paused and turned a calculating look towards Hal.

“It’s not broken, just badly sprained,” he said, calm in a way that screamed danger. “If I’d wanted it broken, it would be, Hal.”

Hal was silent for a long moment after Dick and Robin left the room. When he turned to face those who remained, there was fear in his eyes. “He knows my name?”

“You’re a parent,” Diana said, sitting down next to Dick a few hours later.

He was sitting near one of the external windows, looking out into the cosmos like it would grant him peace. Batman had been cleared with strict instructions of bedrest for the next month at least and Robin had only left Dick’s side to crawl into the bed beside Batman. Diana had pretended not to see it and closed the blinds to the med-bay. When Batman had left an hour later to recover in his own home, Robin, Red Robin and Red Hood had followed.

“I, sort of. It’s complicated.” Dick paused, chewing over the statement in his head. “I’m a big brother.”

Diana hummed, contemplatively. “I’ve found that, sometimes, that’s the same thing.”

Chapter Text

The Watchtower overflowed with heroes from every team, crammed into their largest meeting room and still stepping on each other’s toes. Clark rarely saw so many of them there at the same time, even with their quarterly bonding nights a few of the heroes usually chose to stay home or were off planet. Not many things required a full rollcall on this scale.

Two weeks prior, Clark had taken most of the senior League along with a selection of the younger members and neutralised a threat. The battle had left Batman in intensive care for hours, but at least they had won.

Or so they thought.

Batman was back at his cave on bedrest, but that hadn’t stopped him from logging into the Watchtower’s system and beginning to get their various team members into position when the enemy that almost killed him returned with renewed efforts.

Until two minutes ago, when the Watchtower had abruptly lost communication access to Earth.

Batman out of reach, leadership had fallen to Clark and Diana.

Overwhelmed was an understatement.

There was a reason they relied on the bat to be the silent leader of the League. Although Clark and Diana both had plenty of battlefield experience, they tended to lean more towards instinct than carefully thought-out plans. Organising their own small teams was one thing, controlling the League on this scale was an entirely different beast.

Diana had already looked his way, silently passing the baton to him. He understood her reasoning, even if he wished he didn’t. She was used to working independently or with an experienced team that had known each other since time began, she didn’t need to give them orders for them to work in harmony.

For all his Kryptonian ancestry, Clark had been raised human. In theory, he was better suited to play to everyone’s unique strengths.

But knowing, on paper, what the Titans were good at compared to their younger counterparts (they’d been trialling out the name Young Justice) compared to the Outlaws compared to their newest recruits… He was at a loss for how to translate any of it into a solid battle strategy.

He’d fallen into the habit of relying on Batman to take point and as a result his own skills had atrophied.

He cleared his throat, catching the attention of the room, and paused, taken off-guard by the sudden rush of silence in the wake of so much noise, at the hundreds of eyes on him. “I…”

He looked around the room, feeling like Clark Kent despite the cape, feeling like he was fifteen again and out of his depth.

The heroes looked to him expectedly, each of them waiting eagerly for him to tell them how to survive the upcoming battle. How to succeed where even Batman had not.

He didn’t have the answers.

Dick Grayson met his gaze, reading him like Clark’s inner monologue was his mother tongue. He wasn’t waiting for orders, just seeing what Clark would do next.

Mind apparently made up, although about what Clark didn’t know, Dick shrugged his suit jacket off and rolled out his shoulders, twisted his sleeves up with sharp, efficient folds, and stepped forward.

The eyes shifted to him before he even opened his mouth. He seemed to light up at the attention where Clark had shrunk back.

He’d grown up in the circus, after all.

“Red, get us back online. Robin, grab my spare,” Dick instructed, not lifting his gaze from Clark’s even as Red Robin took over the senior team members’ attempts to reboot their communications. Robin darted out of the room with purpose, further into the Watchtower. “They’ll be expecting us to rush in with our full force, but we work best as a collection of moving parts rather than as a single unit. We’re going to utilise that.”

Dick surveyed the room like a ringmaster. “The senior team will attack exactly how they expect us to, head on. There’s enough of you to justify them pushing back with full force but you’re likely to tire too soon if you go full throttle. Titans, we’ll cut around and take them from behind. Flashes, I need as much information as possible so get a good look at their formations the second the fight starts and report back so there’s no surprises. Take your time, you’re more than fast enough, don’t throw that away by showing off.”

The Titans and Barry nodded easily, and Dick shifted to face the younger team. “Young Justice, once we know more about their strengths from the Flashes I need you to find their weaknesses and sabotage them. Focus on the brains not the brawn. They can’t survive on brute strength alone for long.”

Red Robin looked up from the console and shared a grin with his team that was pure chaos. Kon grinned back in a way that was every inch his other parent. To unleash them on their enemies was a dangerous tactic. Dangerous, but effective.

Robin entered the room, throwing a duffle bag Dick’s way, and settled back in amongst the youngest heroes just as Dick turned their way.

“You are our most vulnerable and they know it,” Dick said, gently, before his grin stretched to match Red Robin’s. “We can use that. They see you as easy targets and don’t expect much of a fight, especially if they catch you alone. Let them. Stay on the edges, focus on the mid-tier hitters, pull them away from the main stage but avoid getting caught.”

Dick met the Outlaws’ eyes and a look passed between him and Red Hood like the anti-hero knew what he was going to say even without words. “They’re the bait, you’re the hunters. You shoot to put our enemies down and keep them down. No Gotham rules. Every single one of our kids are coming home tonight. Good hunting.”

Dick turned to face the rest of the room, meeting Clark’s gaze unwaveringly. “Any questions?”

“I’ve got one,” Hal said, staring at Dick like he was ready to pay him back for his sprained arm. “Who do you think you are?”

Dick was calm in a way that made Clark want to crawl underground to the storm cellar of his childhood home. “The man who is going to get you out of this alive.”

Hal scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You think your fancy FBI training means something here, with us? You think you know better than Superman? Than Batman?”

“Yes,” Dick replied, leaning down to unzip his duffle bag, ignoring Hal in a way that the Lantern took like a physical blow.

Before Hal could retort, the console lit up and Batman’s voice filtered through the room. “As I was saying-”

“I’ve got it covered, B,” Dick cut in. “Go back to bed.”

Batman hummed over the speakers, easy and accepting where Clark would have expected resistance. “Very well then, keep me in the loop.”

“That’s it?” Hal exclaimed. “You’re going to let him tell us what to do without even a fight?”

Batman was quiet for a moment before he gave the audible equivalent of a shrug. “It was always Dick’s plan, whether it came from my mouth or his makes no difference.”

Dick stood up, fingers wrapped around two batons, as Hal and the rest of the senior League turned to face him. He sent them a grin that was half chaotic, half calculating and pressed something on the side of his weapons.

Blue energy surged down the length of them, finally consolidating at the ends in an electrified surge.

Not batons.

Escrima sticks.

“Problem?” Nightwing asked, meeting each of the senior team’s eyes evenly, one after the next after the next. “Good.”

The room was silent in the revelation until Hal turned to Red Robin. “You’re fucking Nightwing?”

Clark was too stunned at the whiplash of the statement to chastise Hal, although he wasn’t even sure which was worse: the language he was using in front of the younger heroes or what he was implying with that language in the first place.

Red Robin gaped at Hal and then looked to Red Hood a second before the ex-crime lord bent at the waist and wheezed in pain. “No,” Red Robin denied, vehemently.

“You’re what?” Red Hood gasped out, grabbing onto Arsenal’s arm to hold himself steady as he shook.

Oh, not pain. It was laughter that was overpowering him.

“Shut up, you know I’m not…” Red Robin trailed off, clearly struggling to get the words ‘fucking Nightwing’ to come out of his mouth. He turned to Hal with a murderous expression. “What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“I saw you,” Hal insisted. “In the kitchen.”

“What a disgusting insinuation. As if Richard would ever contaminate himself in such a way,” Robin stated.

Red Hood wheezed even louder.

Red Robin kicked him in the shin and turned to Dick. “Wing, please.”

Dick, Nightwing, had stopped in his tracks at Hal’s exclamation and was staring at the Lantern in both shock and disgust but he snapped out of it at Red Robin’s pleading and turned to face the room of equally confused heroes. “No one is fucking Nightwing.”

In the corner, Kid Flash raised his hand slowly but Dick sent him a glare so dark that Clark would have flinched had it been directed his way. Kid Flash quickly put his hand back down.

That comment about Kid Flash getting along with Dick, back on the first day Clark had met Dick - although not really, in any sense of the word - Batman had been making a joke. The revelation that he was capable of that was equally as shocking as Nightwing’s love life.

“Hold on,” Oliver said, rubbing his eyes through his mask. “Are you the one funding the League?”

Dick opened his mouth, closed it, thought about the question for a moment then shrugged. “Technically, Bruce is.”

“Bruce Wayne?” Hal asked, because there was only one Bruce in the world with enough money to do so (it was news to Clark, who had blindly accepted the anonymous sponsorship when Batman brought it up). “Why would he fund the League for you?”

“Because he’s my dad?” Dick said, like it was obvious.

Clark had called him out on that. Had called Dick Grayson out for having a very public persona while never comprehending how ironic that was. He needed to quit his day job, immediately.

“You’re that Dick Grayson?” Hal turned to Oliver. “You knew?”

Oliver scoffed. “I’ve known the kid since he was nine, Hal. I’m not an idiot.”

Dick frowned. “I know I kept the Nightwing thing a secret, that’s on me. But did literally none of you think to google me or something?”

Hal avoided answering the question. “Are there any other secret billionaires running around here that I’m missing?”

Red Hood snorted, sidestepping another kick from Red Robin. “You’d be surprised.”

Over the speakers, Batman sighed. “I’m going to take a nap.”

His voice was still distorted, but differently than usual. Like he was relying on the comms to change it instead of the voice modulator in his suit. Clark wondered if he was sitting at home, in his pyjamas, doped up on pain medication and watching them like some sort of sitcom.

Nightwing waved him off, shifting firmly back into business mode. “You have your positions. Give me a minute to get dressed and then we move out.”

The battle played out flawlessly.

Afterwards, exhausted but satisfied with their win, the teams lounged around the same meeting room for the debrief and something that had been bothering Clark settled in.

“You weren’t surprised,” he stated, turning to Barry with curiosity.

Barry looked over at him, at the sudden wave of eyes singling him out and exchanged a nervous glance towards Dick before he gave in and shrugged. “I’ve known since the movie night.”

Oliver huffed out a breath in understanding. “I wondered what that was.”

Barry nodded, a cheeky grin sliding across his face. “It was pretty obvious, once I saw him with his team.”

Hal scrunched up his face in thought, his expression open and easy to read since most of the League had peeled away their masks, no longer necessary now that they knew Dick had known all along. He turned to the Titans.

“You knew who he was too?” Hal asked.

Dick was tucked into Kid Flash’s side, leaning back against Beast Boy and Raven’s legs. The rest of the Titans were close by, all touching in some way like they were recentering themselves around their (not so) absent leader.

Wondergirl rolled her eyes. “Of course, we did. You think he trusted us enough to live with us but not enough to show us his face?”

“Yeah,” Beast Boy chimed in, smug. “We know all of the ex-Robins.”

“The whats?” Oliver asked, exchanging a confused look with Barry, who it seemed was not as in the know as he thought.

Wondergirl turned to Dick with astonishment. “God, they really don’t know anything do they?”

Dick shrugged, shaking Kid Flash along with him due to how closely they were wrapped up in each other. “We stopped hiding that part ages ago. If they’re too oblivious to put it together, that’s on them.”

“Plus,” Red Robin added from across the room, “watching them struggle is way funnier than just telling them.”

“Amen,” Red Hood agreed.

Clark really couldn’t wait for Batman to come back.