Chapter Text
It’s during a chase through Gotham that it happens. Most of them are focused on locating the robber of multiple dangerous weapons when there are suddenly two yells over the coms, before a storm of cursing starts up.
“Nightwing, Red Hood, report,” Bruce demands anxiously.
“We’re fine, Dickface just fucking entangled us on the grapplers, like a fucking Dickhead idiot, stupid asshole,” Jason curses.
Dick immediately defends himself: “This was so not my fault, Little Wing. You’re rusty with yours and being mean about it.”
“Don’t you fucking dare put this on me. You bumped into me,” Jason hisses.
“You didn’t check your six properly,” Dick protests.
“I swear you need to shut the fuck up, right now. I have knives and I’m near all your sensitive parts,” Jason threatens.
“Oh my god, are you two tied to each other with your own grapplers?” Steph asks, sounding delighted at the idea. “O, please say you have a visual on that.”
Barbara chuckles: “Oh, I definitely have a visual on that. They’re properly tangled and stuck. I’m getting a video of them dangling there to use later.”
“You have to show me that,” Steph says.
“Of course.”
“It’s not fucking funny,” Jason complains. “I don’t wanna get blackmailed for shit Dickface did. I refuse.”
“For the last time, it’s your fault we’re in this mess,” Dick shoots back. “I’ve been grappling all over non-stop, you haven’t. It’s okay to be rusty, but don’t start pushing this on me.”
Before Jason can give what would have probably been a scathing reply to that, they’re interrupted by a snort. Tim says: “I find it hard to believe Hood caused that when you got B tangled even in your later Robin years.”
It’s quiet for a second, then there’s chaos on the coms.
“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” Barbara comments, as Steph says: “Wait, you’re saying that Bats and Nightwing as Robin did a fish on a hook impersonation? Please tell me you captured that, stalker boy.”
Dick is whining: “Shut up,” as Damian says: “Yes, I refuse to believe this sort of slander.”
“Slander. Slander?” Jason shrieks. “Golden boy here is pinning his shit on me, that’s fucking slander. I can’t believe you, you know. How fucking dare you.”
“No chatter on the coms,” Bruce tiredly reminds them, something he often forgoes, because they have never listened once in their lives. He has already decided to make a strategic withdrawal when they turn against him, happy to have at least diverted the conversation again.
“Oh, now you’re picking his side, huh? When it’s your dignity on the line as well, I see how it is,” Jason bitches. “Creepy McCreeperson, make sure you find those stalker pics you took so I can defend my honor when this asshole tries pinning it on me again.”
“Not really inclined to help you when you’re calling me a creeper,” Tim deadpans.
“I’ll make you a coffee cake next time they put you on a caffeine ban,” Jason offers, obviously trying to sound enticing.
Dick admonishes: “Don’t bribe Red Robin with coffee. You know it’s for his own good and you know that we’re all above bri -”
“Deal,” Tim cuts him off.
“Hell yeah, you’re my favorite paparazzi stalker,” Jason cheers. “Now shut up, Dickface, and tell me how to get loose without plummeting, since you’ve obviously done this before.”
“I hate you both,” Dick complains, before he starts to explain.