( It's 3AM. Usually, he was still out with his mask on and pistols blazing around this time, but the past couple of nights had ended early. Or rather, he had ended them early. He'd crossed paths too many times with Batman on the rooftops in the last three days, and while he wasn't scared of Batman or whatever stupid rules he wanted to shove down Gotham's throat, there was something to say for how Batman could make you feel. Even behind the lenses of a cowl, there was something in his expression, that constant sound of disapproval (or maybe it was disappointment?) in his voice and slant of his lips.
It was a constant reminder that no matter what costume he had on his back, he'd never live up to whatever ridiculous standard Batman had set for him. For them. Because at the end of the day, they all felt that pressure, didn't they? Dick was supposed to be the golden child, Tim expected to think and not feel, Damian had to twist and mold his morality to something else entirely, and for him? He was the original fuck up. He was the one who couldn't be Dick or be better than him, and Bruce never let him forget it. His methods were too violent, he was getting involved with the wrong people, there was always something. And truthfully, it was exhausting.
It was why Jason had called it early the past few nights. He was tired of the looks, tired of the warnings, just tired. And sitting alone in a diner with only the sound of the waitress humming some tune as she refilled his glass gave him any real peace. At least, the first two nights. On the third, Jason felt restless even here. More alone than he usually did with a familiar itch of annoyance under his skin that only Batman could put there. He'd resisted the urge for two days to pick up his phone and text someone and ask for some company, but now he knew it was what he needed. He should call Roy or Kory, hell, he could even go chill somewhere with Croc. But instead, his finger hovered over Dick's number. He stared at it for who knew how long, kept putting his phone down before picking it back up.
In the end, he wasn't able to stop himself. Of all the names he had on his phone to call, Dick's was the one that kept drawing his attention. The one that made his stomach flutter awkwardly once he'd finally sent the text. And geez, if there was anyone he shouldn't feel that way about, it was Dick. )
[ With the 'haven quieter than ever, it was inevitable Dick would get dragged back to Gotham for a couple of weeks to help out, especially when Bruce made the effort to actually call. A text would have been enough but the sound of Bruce's voice must have had a Pavlovian response effect on Dick's brain because before he knew it he was back at the train station in Gotham City, a carry-all slung over a shoulder and a sigh in his heart. That was a week ago. He's been staying at the manor, which has been weirdly fun (mostly because of Alfred being so pleased to see him around) and admittedly nicer than renting out a shitty apartment. It's just, Dick expected to see more of, well, everyone, but Tim is a ghost in the wind, Damian is going through whatever stage of puberty makes him irritable on levels somehow previously unknown, and Jason is ... Jason. Barbara is tied up in her own investigations and even Steph and Cas are busy, so Dick has been lonelier than he anticipated.
Jason's text is a ray of sunlight, never mind that Dick is crouched atop a nightclub in the shadows between neon signs, shivering a little in his suit. He replies almost immediately. ]
( Jason wasn't sure what he was expecting here. Dick wasn't the type to ignore a text from any of the batfamily, especially not when he was here in Gotham, probably miserable staying with Bruce. But the immediate response had Jason raising a brow. )
24 hour diner down the street from wayne tower. you coming?
( He imagined Dick was tucked somewhere, suited up playing hero, but an offer of food on a quiet night might be enough to coax him into changing and joining him. )
[ Shit, he is on his way with all the swings and flips, switching voice to text transmission. Fortunately for Jason that means he gets actual words to read because the suit's tech isn't a tween girl like Dick. ]
On my way! Not busy with B at all, actually. I thought he needed me here to help out but apparently I'm just picking up the slack while he's deep in whatever case he's working on, you know how he is. Why are are you in a diner?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
slams this down here
It was a constant reminder that no matter what costume he had on his back, he'd never live up to whatever ridiculous standard Batman had set for him. For them. Because at the end of the day, they all felt that pressure, didn't they? Dick was supposed to be the golden child, Tim expected to think and not feel, Damian had to twist and mold his morality to something else entirely, and for him? He was the original fuck up. He was the one who couldn't be Dick or be better than him, and Bruce never let him forget it. His methods were too violent, he was getting involved with the wrong people, there was always something. And truthfully, it was exhausting.
It was why Jason had called it early the past few nights. He was tired of the looks, tired of the warnings, just tired. And sitting alone in a diner with only the sound of the waitress humming some tune as she refilled his glass gave him any real peace. At least, the first two nights. On the third, Jason felt restless even here. More alone than he usually did with a familiar itch of annoyance under his skin that only Batman could put there. He'd resisted the urge for two days to pick up his phone and text someone and ask for some company, but now he knew it was what he needed. He should call Roy or Kory, hell, he could even go chill somewhere with Croc. But instead, his finger hovered over Dick's number. He stared at it for who knew how long, kept putting his phone down before picking it back up.
In the end, he wasn't able to stop himself. Of all the names he had on his phone to call, Dick's was the one that kept drawing his attention. The one that made his stomach flutter awkwardly once he'd finally sent the text. And geez, if there was anyone he shouldn't feel that way about, it was Dick. )
gc diner? got a booth
no subject
Jason's text is a ray of sunlight, never mind that Dick is crouched atop a nightclub in the shadows between neon signs, shivering a little in his suit. He replies almost immediately. ]
:D j!!
hi where r u? what's goin on??
no subject
24 hour diner down the street from wayne tower. you coming?
( He imagined Dick was tucked somewhere, suited up playing hero, but an offer of food on a quiet night might be enough to coax him into changing and joining him. )
or you too busy with b?
no subject
On my way!
Not busy with B at all, actually. I thought he needed me here to help out but apparently I'm just picking up the slack while he's deep in whatever case he's working on, you know how he is.
Why are are you in a diner?