ambiengrey:

“So let’s not forget that Damian and I are still the only legitimate deaths
in the family,” Jason said, pulling Damian closer with one arm around his
shoulders; squeezing. Albeit sour-faced, Damian allowed himself to be
man-handled into Jason’s side without objection, save for the usual unimpressed
“Tt.”

“Hey, it’s not like I faked
my death,” Timothy objected, before side-eying Dick next to him as he mumbled
loudly into his third – already empty – coffee cup, “Like some people.”

“Are we never moving past that?” Dick asked, sounding almost
exasperated.

His brothers seemed to freeze, Tim and Jason sharing a look before
facing Dick’s expectant expression with blank stares; “No,” they chorused.

“I concur,” Damian declared; at the floor.

Dick made a noise; sighed, and threw up his hands in defeat.

“Still, Timmers,” Jason was speaking again, ignoring Dick, “You
didn’t die for real, so you don’t count.”

Damian nodded.

“But I would have died
for real,” Tim countered, “If I hadn’t been unceremoniously kidnapped, thank you very much.”

“‘Fortuitously’ kidnapped,
you mean,” Dick said.

“Boys,” Bruce appeared,
as he so often did, out of seemingly nowhere, to interrupt whatever Jason or
Tim might have replied to that, heavily placing a hand on each of his middle
son’s shoulders. “It’s not a
competition.”

“Because we’ve already won,” Jason said.

“Please,” Bruce intoned,
“Can we change the subject?” he asked, giving Jason a meaningful look. The
younger man’s throat worked. Damian’s gaze lifted to watch Jason as carefully
as Dick and Tim were doing.

“…Sure,” Jason said easily, slapping the back of his hand against Bruce’s
chest. “Why don’t you share the good news with Tim.”

“Good news?” Tim said, to Bruce, as he spoke, at Jason.

Dick snorted into his drink, and Damian groaned, rolling his eyes.

“This,” Jason said, impatiently,
as he pried Bruce’s left hand from his shoulder by the ring finger, practically
shoving the digit in his face, “You unromantic oaf.”

“Oh!” Bruce said, too loudly, and slipped his finger from Jason’s
grip. “O-of course,” he cleared his throat.

“Do I need to be concerned?” Tim was stage-whispering at Dick, who
made a see-saw motion with his free hand in reply, before pinching an inch of
air between his thumb and forefinger. “Little bit? Alright,” Tim concluded,
returning his attention to Bruce with an expectant grin on his face.

Bruce glared. Briefly.

“I have asked Selina to marry me, and she has accepted.”

“Oh,” Tim said, not hiding his surprise. “Oh…wow. Okay.
Congratulations,” he offered his hand to shake, and Bruce clasped it firmly.

“Thank you; Tim.”

“You’re alright with this?” Jason asked, apparently incredulous. “She’s
a villain—”

“You’re a villain,”
Damian declared, shooting daggers at Jason from where he was still tucked in
against the older man’s side.

Jason held the boy tighter, “So I’d know best—”

“You’re not a villain, Jason,” Bruce said firmly. “And neither is Selina.”

“Ignore him, Bruce. It is
good news. I think you and Selina will be good for each other.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“For the record, I agree,” Dick threw in.

“Suck-ups,” Jason said.

“Stupid,” countered Tim.

“Nice come-back.”

“You’re all idiots,” Damian said, before Tim could make another
reply, as he shoved Jason’s arm off his shoulders and marched off.

“I—take it he’s less
than accepting…?” Tim ventured.

“His issue isn’t with Selina so much as his mom…” Dick replied, “I’ll
go—”

“Perhaps it should be me, this time,” Bruce interrupted.

“Yeah, okay,” Dick smiled. “I think he’d like that.”

“Excuse me.”

“Me, too, kiddos,” Jason announced. “I got to go see an Amazon
about a backwards Superman.”

“Bizarro still—” Dick began,

“A total smarticle? Yeah, it’s awesome.”

“Like how smart?” Tim asked.

“On a scale of ‘one to Tim?’ Timothy,” Jason said, with a lopsided grin.

“Where ‘one’ is equal to ‘Jason’s lame, nonsensical jokes?’ Gotcha,”
Tim replied.

“You’re adorable,” Jason said dryly, ruffling Tim’s already messy
hair. Tim punched him in the bicep. Hard.

“Say ‘hi’ to Artemis for me,” Dick said, in part by way of breaking
up a potential slap-fest before it started.

“Not if I conveniently forget to,” Jason replied with a wink. He
extended a hand towards Tim. “Timothy. Always a pleasure. And congratulations
on not being dead.”

Tim took the hand, “Gee, thanks.”

“Try and keep it that way.”

“You first.”

“Hardy-har,” Jason slapped him lightly on the back of the head,
skipping away fast enough Tim’s retaliation missed. He kept walking, throwing
them a last jaunty wave, “See you.”

“Yeah,” Tim mumbled, waving back. Dick slung his arm around Tim’s
shoulders, and they watched their brother disappear into the depths of the
cave.

“At the risk of sounding like Jason,” Dick said eventually. “Wanna
swap near-death experiences?”

“That your clever way of asking me if I want to talk about it?”

Dick shrugged, “Maybe.”

“I’ve already typed up everything in my report—”

“You know that’s not
what I mean.”

Tim crossed his arms, let the resulting silence linger a moment. “Is
there a pumpkin-spiced latte with extra caffeine in it for me?”

“Of course!” Dick replied at once, swinging Tim around with him
and walking them toward the elevator. “Just, you know, without the caffeine.”

---

October 26th: Celebration.