Chapter Text
You know, in the grand scheme of things, Dick didn’t think just one morning of sleeping in was too much to ask for. He was laying in his creaky bed in his sh*tty apartment, that was supposed to be temporary until he returned back to Bludhaven, which was seeming less and less likely. His legs were tangled in the covers as a sliver of sunshine peaked out underneath his blinds, making him blink lazily. Dick has been staying in the manor for the last few days, at least when he wasn’t calling every person he knew and interrogating them to see if they’ve ever heard of someone called The Scepter.
Dick rolled over on his side, grasping around on his nightstand for his phone. He squinted momentarily at the brightness of the screen, unplugging it as he brought it closer to his face. There was usually a decent number of notifications that greeted him when he opened his phone, which came with the territory of knowing as many people as he did and being a superhero in his free time. But as he saw the multiple missed calls from practically everyone he knew, Dick pushed himself up in bed as he scrolled through them.
Almost the entirety of the Teen Titans had called or texted him at least once, not to mention pretty much every hero around his age had texted him. He also had missed calls from Barbara, Duke, Steph, and Tim, and most noticeably almost thirty from Jason. For a moment Dick felt slightly alarmed, wondering if something was wrong, but his texts were just a plethora of emojis of skulls and laughing, so he figured it was probably fine. If something was truly wrong someone would have come to his apartment and got him, so Dick clicked his phone off and tossed it on the bed as he collapsed backwards.
Well, that was something he should probably deal with eventually. But for now Dick had a whole day where he was planning on doing absolutely nothing, so that was a problem for tomorrow. Reaching down and pulling the covers back up, Dick closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow. Dick was going to be sleeping until at least eleven and everyone was going to have to deal with that.
Just as Dick was able to nod back off there was a sound like his front door was being broken down and his eyes flew open as he shot back up in bed. He reached underneath his pillow and pulled out his escrima sticks, spinning them in his hands as he got out of bed. There was the sound of heavy footsteps down the hall and Dick bent his knees as he got into a fighting stance as his door got kicked open. Bracing for a fight Dick pulled his arm back, blinking when he saw Jason, dressed in pants and a black shirt, a gun in his hand.
“Oh, Jason,” Dick said, dropping the escrima sticks as his posture loosened. “I thought someone was breaking into my apartment.”
Jason didn’t move, staring at Dick with stony eyes.
“Jason?” Dick asked, getting a little concerned. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m going to give you a five second head start,” Jason said calmly, and Dick tilted his head as he gave him a confused look.
“A what?”
“Five, four, three–”
“Is something going on?
“Two–”
“Okay, I think you’re being a little dramatic–”
“One.”
Jason brought his gun up so he was practically staring down the barrel, and Dick saw his finger twitch. More from instinct than anything Dick threw himself to the ground, a bullet passing through where he had been just moments before. Gaping at the new bullet hole in his wall, he turned to look at Jason.
“What the f*ck? Jason, I’m never gonna get my security deposit back now!”
Apparently Jason didn’t care, lowering the gun towards Dick and squinting one eye closed as his hand tightened on the gun once again.
“sh*t!”
Dick scrambled to his feet as another bullet hole appeared in his nice carpeted floor and he really hoped that the neighbors weren’t home. He ran over to his window and threw it open, slipping out and jumping off of the second story fire escape, landing in a somersault before popping up to his feet. Jason very slowly stepped out of the window after him, his metal boots clanging harshly against the stairs.
“Can we talk about whatever this is?” Dick called out, watching Jason descend closer towards him. “I’m not sure what I did, but I’m sorry!”
Another bullet ricochets off the wall behind him and Dick ducks half a second too late, feeling the air whoosh near his ear. “Jason! This is getting to be a little much!”
Jason had reached the bottom of the stairs and his jaw was set, rapidly moving closer to Dick as he released the magazine, pulling a new one out of his pocket and clicking it in place. Deciding that this was clearly beyond a civilized conversation Dick sighed, before taking the opportunity and just tackling him, sending them both sprawling across the ground. Jason’s gone scattered across the ground as Dick rolled on top of him, hands pressing the other man to the ground.
“Are you done throwing your temperature tantrum yet?”
Face twisting with the most emotion Dick had seen so far, Jason’s eyes blazed with anger as he pulled his arm back and socked Dick across the face, making him fall back. Dick blinked as he tried to clear the dark spots from his vision, but felt a little more comfortable with the conversation. If Jason just needed someone to fight, that was something that he could understand and Dick pushed himself back to feet.
Jason hadn’t moved from where he was sitting on the ground but he also hadn’t tried to grab his gun again, fixing Dick with an angry glare. Dick, rubbing at the bruise he could feel forming on his jaw, almost collapsed down on the ground next to him.
“You ready to talk or do you want to punch me again?”
“f*ck you,” Jason muttered, but he layed down next to him on the ground of the alleyway. Dick was still in his sleep clothes, a pair of loose shorts that at one point belonged to Wally and a worn band t-shirt he had stolen from Bruce before he moved out. Luckily it was a hot summer day, but he wasn’t wearing any shoes and there was broken glass and what looked like needles under the nearby dumpster.
“Not that I don’t love getting woken up at the ass crack of dawn–”
“It’s like eleven.”
“And shot at and chased out of my house, but I would really like an explanation now.” Dick stared at Jason, who resolutely avoided eye contact. “Please.”
“Have you checked your phone?” Jason asked him, a deep weariness in his voice. For the first time Dick actually looked at the other man, and he looked a little wrecked. Jason would never admit it but he was pretty conscious about his appearance, but his hair was sticking up in different directions with dark bags underneath his eyes. Dick couldn’t help the concern that started stirring in his stomach and he propped himself up on his elbows.
“I was going to, and then some lunatic kicked down my door and shot at me.”
Rolling his eyes, Jason stood up and started walking back to the fire escape. “Come on, we’re not having this conversation in an alleyway when you’re f*cking barefoot.”
“You were the one who chased me out here!” Dick protested, following after the other man as he gingerly walked across the trash littered ground, trying to avoid stepping on anything that would give him a disease.
“Come on,” Jason told him, stomping up the stairs. “This is a shoes conversation.”
Dick poured a healthy amount of syrup on his pancakes as Jason watched in disgust and a little bit of awe, hands cradled around a mug of warm coffee. Almost as soon as they had reentered Dick’s apartment Jason had snatched his phone, shoving it in his pocket as he instructed Dick to get dressed. Not exactly having a choice Dick had pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a Wonder Woman sweatshirt, finally putting on socks and shoes before rejoining Jason. The other man had refused to answer any questions, bringing them to a run down diner around the corner.
Shoveling a bite into his mouth, Dick stared expectantly at Jason, who was meticulously tearing open a sugar packet and emptying it into his cup. “So, are we going to talk about whatever’s going on?”
He took a sip on his water just as Jason finally met his eyes. “The internet thinks we’re dating.”
Dick spit his water all over himself.
He coughed for a moment as the water was expelled violently from his lungs and Jason took a slow sip of his coffee as he watched. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
“Someone took a picture of Nightwing and Red Hood as some would describe, ‘in a passionate embrace’.” Jason said, his glare returning on full force. “And now we’re trending.”
“How?” Dick questioned, his mind racing. Due to Jason’s current status as a crime lord, they usually tried not to interact unless the situation was dire. Especially not in a public place where a civilian could take a picture of them. “When was it?”
“I’m not 100% sure,” he admitted, “But I think it might’ve been the night after you broke into my safehouse, when you went and got dinner with Peter.”
“sh*t,” Dick breathed, placing his silverware down. He wasn’t sure if he could eat the rest. “Can I see?”
Jason pulled out his phone and slid it across the table and Dick grabbed it. “So was it just on like social media or something? Cause I’m sure if we talk to Tim or Barbara they can so something, try to take down some of the posts–”
“I don’t think it will be that easy.”
“Why not?” He shot back as he unlocked his phone. “It can’t be that–” Dick opened a text from Babs with a link to a Gotham Gazette article and clicked it, slightly confused. As soon as the page loaded, Dick suddenly understood. A picture of him, his arm tossed around Jason with a hue grin on his face, greeted him in startling clarity. If Dick didn’t know better he would’ve guessed that they had posed for the picture, Jason’s hand hovering slightly above his hip like he was ready to catch Dick if he fell. It was a familiar sight, as Dick very commonly greeted those around him with an enthusiastic hug, but taken out of context it almost looked intimate.
“f*ck.” Dick said, placing his phone down on the table as he put his head in his hands.
“Yeah, we’re screwed,” Jason agreed. “And you haven’t even read the article yet.”
“There’s more?” He gaped, looking up at Jason. “How?”
“At first glance the article looks like some cheap attention grabber, but the article’s actually pretty thorough. There’s documented examples of all of our team ups together, times that I’ve responded too fast to just be a coincidence. And it’s pretty easy to refute for the first few times, but there’s dozens of examples. Not to mention the multiple witnesses to times our conversations were ‘more than that of two fellow Keepers of Gotham’.”
“Jesus.” Dick scrolled through the article, seeing clips of conversations that Dick absolutely remembered having and that looked terrible out of context. There was also details of team ups complete with dates, describing villains they’d taken down together, which took up over half the article. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“This is your fault,” Jason grumbled as he took another sip of his coffee. “I was ready to never have to deal with any of you again, but then you kept breaking into my safe houses and TIm kept stalking me across the city, and now this sh*t happens. I should've stayed dead.”
“Okay, don’t say that.” Dick said, heart twisting a little bit even though he knew it was a joke. “How did they find all that information about us?”
“I don’t know,” Jason replied, giving him a look. “I mean, I guess it’s all information that’s just public, just no one has put it all together yet.”
Dick scrolled back to the top of the article, searching for the author. “Do you know who Vicki Vale is?”
“I’ve heard of her before, she’s also the one who wrote the Robin article. But honestly, I’m not really concerned about that. What I’m more concerned about is the picture.” Jason leaned forward and tapped the picture at the top of the screen, the two of them in high definition. “Someone got the drop on both of us. I’m sure it’s slightly zoomed in, but they got close enough to get this and neither of us noticed. The last person who did that was the f*cking Replacement and you know what a freak of nature he is. If they can trail us without us noticing, what else do you think they’ve discovered?”
“I wish you’d stop calling Tim that,” Dick interjected. He scrolled back to the top of the article but there was no one listed for the photo credit. “Do you think you can find out who took the picture?”
“I’ll try, I don’t have anyone in the Gotham Gazette but I’m working on it. It’s smart that they weren’t directly listed on the front page, but there’s gotta be some documentation out there, or a person who knows who took it. But it’ll take a while and we’ll have to see if any of my connections will still associate with me when they think that we’re f*cking.”
“Don’t–don’t say it like that,” Dick groaned, placing his head down on the table. After a moment he raised his head, meeting Jason’s eyes. “Wait, is your Red Hood stuff okay?”
“I mean, it’s not fantastic.” Jason glanced out the window, but his fingers tightened around the handle of the mug. “I’ll probably have to renegotiate my boundaries with the other gangs, as some of them will probably take this as an excuse to challenge me. All of my own men know better than to say anything, though I’m sure they’re never going to let me hear of it.”
Jason abruptly lets go of the mug, crossing his arms as his back hits the soft cushion of the booth. “Honestly, this has been coming for a long time. Between you and Replacement accosting me every time we see each other and Blondie taking those terrible selfies of me in the suits, eventually someone was going to find it out. And sure, this wasn’t exactly the way I thought it’d all go down, but I’ve had preparations in place in case something like this happened.”
His pancakes have probably long gone cold but Dick takes another bite, trying not to show the pity he knows is clear on his face. Jason doesn’t want to hear any apologies from him and Dick knows he wouldn’t have changed any of his actions. “At least we can officially have team ups now? And you could call us if you ever needed help with your crime lord stuff.”
Making a face like he’d tasted something sour Jason shot back, “The day I ask for any of your help is the day I stop being a crime lord. Besides, I’d mostly stopped with the murders anyway.” A thoughtful look crossed across his face and Jason turned towards Dick. “Maybe if I finally kill the Joker people will stop saying I’m a good guy.”
“Absolutely not, we are not doing that under any circ*mstances.”
“I don’t recall asking for your permission,” Jason said as he pulled out his phone, presumably doing terrible crime things.
Dick reached out to grab it and Jason jerked his arm back, knocking the table and making everything shake, accidentally kicking him in the process too. Reaching his phone back far enough that Dick couldn’t grab it he let out a frustrated huff, giving the other man’s shin a hard kick in retaliation.
“Are you a child?” Jason asked him with heavy judgment in his tone, but kicked him back with one of his steel toed boots.
“Ow!”
“Don’t be your usual over involved self about this, okay? I’ll figure it out like I always do and it’ll all be fine. Now finish your f*cking pancakes so we can get out of here.” Dick laughed and took another bite as Jason drained the rest of the coffee. “And you have to explain this to Bruce and Alfred.”
“What?”
“What?” Duke said, his arms out in a shrug and his palms facing outward, almost like he was pleading with them. “I don’t think my idea is that crazy!”
“We are not tattling on Peter!” Steph yelled, rising to her feet from she’d been on the couch. They were sitting in the living room of the manor, Tim’s laptop open on the table to display the atrocious picture and if possible even more atrocious headline, both of which were currently running Tim’s life. He rubbed tiredly at his temples as he tried to shove down the professional jealousy that came from seeing such an aesthetically pleasing picture, especially when the entirety of the internet was declaring it as ‘one of a kind’. Well, most of the internet was spamming capslock under edits of the Red Hood and Nightwing from whatever CCTV footage they could scrounge up, but the people who actually knew anything about anything were marveling over the image.
“I feel like they’re going to figure it out eventually. I think if we get out in front of it and explain that it’s Peter, not like, a greedy paparazzi, then there’s a chance they’ll be less mad!”
“They’re going to be mad either way! How would you feel if the whole internet thought you were f*cking your brother?”
“Okay, okay! Stop!” Tim reached out and slammed the laptop closed, springing away from the couch as he began to pace. “We’re not telling them, especially not Jason, because it’s practically impossible to predict what his response would be. Best case he corners Peter and threatens him in a shady alleyway, worst case Peter comes to school next week with some bullet holes. Peter’s name isn’t mentioned anywhere in the article, so as of right now there isn’t really a way for them to find out who took the picture.”
Well, at least not for a few days, but he doesn’t mention that. Tim wanted to say that Jason’s response would be reasonable and that he wouldn’t respond by threatening Peter physical harm, but Tim has never been one to gamble and especially not with the life of his friends. Peter seems like he had enough going on as is and Tim doesn’t think he needs to add a murderous crime lord with a vengeance to the list.
Tim also was a little curious about the fact that there was no photo credit listed anywhere in the article, not even a trace of Peter’s name. It was a smart move with all things considered, as being publicly known as the person who can track down heroes, and probably villains, could turn bad fast. But another part of Tim felt almost offended on behalf of Peter. All of the pictures he had ever taken were saved onto an encrypted USB and hidden in a safe under his bed because he knew they were one of a kind, something that probably shouldn’t make it into the public eye. And here Peter was, outsmarting vigilantes and chasing them down, and he didn't even get a mention in the margins.
“I’ll do whatever you guys decide is best,” Duke relented from his spot on the arm of the couch. “I just don’t want it all to blow up in our faces.”
“I think it’s a little too late for that,” Steph admitted. “Can you imagine what Bruce would say if he found out we knew before they posted the article? He would’ve wanted us to smash Peter’s camera as soon as he told us about the picture.”
“I'm sure Peter has a backup saved on his phone,” Tim mumbled as he paced.
“Whatever, you know what I’m trying to say. If it were up to Bruce he either would’ve adopted Peter right then and there or threatened him until he was afraid to even take a step outside.”
“Well we’ll just make sure no one finds out then.” Tim ran his hands through his hair, running through possibility after possibility in his mind. “It shouldn’t be too hard to keep Peter’s name out of things.”
“So we’re going to be pretending like we know nothing?”
Tim shot Duke a look, trying to decipher the other boy’s tone. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Duke let out an exasperated sigh and even Tim himself could admit maybe his tone was a little accusatory. “Listen, I like Peter. You know I do. He’s nice and smart and funny, and has every heroic instinct in me screaming whenever he walks into the room. But now we have someone who can take pictures of us without anyone noticing and god knows what else he might end up seeing. I just feel like that might eventually end up becoming a problem.”
“I mean, it’s Peter,” Steph told him, drawing her knees up to her chest. “He seems about as good as a person can get if we’re being real. Do you really think if he found something out he’d tell people?”
“I don’t think it’s a crazy conclusion to come to,” Duke replied, but he didn’t look excited about it. If anything he just looked tired, his arm slung around the back of the couch as he sat on the arm.
“I just don’t think he would do that,” Tim practically whispered as he continued to pace. “I understand that I’ve known Peter for less than a week, but I trust him.”
At that both Steph and Duke exchanged a glance and Tim slowly stops in his tracks as he looks between the two of them. “Is there something I’m missing?”
“Are we gonna actually talk about this?” Steph asked, sounding surprised.
“What do you mean, ‘are we actually gonna talk about this.’ What is there to talk about?”
“Tim, you invited him to the gala,” she responded, sounding exasperated.
“And? You were the one who suggested it in the first place!”
“I never thought you’d actually agree!”
“Is there something wrong with the fact that I invited him? I thought you both liked him?”
Steph gave him a look that made it clear she thought he was being stupid, and Tim felt his shoulders tightening. “Are you being this dumb on purpose? When was the last time you actually invited someone to a gala?”
“I invited you!”
“We were dating! And I knew your secret identity, that Bruce was Batman, and I’d even been Robin for a second at that point!”
Tim sputtered, not expecting that response. “Okay, well, I’ve invited Duke!”
“Not trying to disagree with you, but you actually haven’t.”
Tim turned and gaped at his friend while Steph let out a cackle. “What are you talking about? You literally stood next to me half the night at the last gala!”
“Yeah, and Alfred was the one who invited me. I got a fancy letter in the mail and everything. I also feel like I should add that it was after I got a room here half the time and that I do have superpowers, so maybe I shouldn’t be used as an example either.”
“Okay, so maybe Peter’s different. But I mean, we know nothing about him besides the fact that he’s apparently seventeen and that his guardian’s name is Tony Stark! I figured maybe in a non-school environment he’ll feel more comfortable, maybe open up.”
As soon as he said that, Tim had to push down the urge to shift uncomfortably. At any given point in time he probably had over thirty plans in motion, whether it be how to convince Alfred to bake more of his cookies or how to make the gang that’s forming on third street implode in on itself. Tim’s not trying to toot his own horn or anything, but most of the time when he makes a decision it’s because he’s either aggressively prepared for that exact situation or he stays up all night and tries to guess every possibility.
But as he explained his thought process to Duke and Steph he realized that he hadn’t planned to invite Peter at all. Steph had offhandedly suggested it and Tim had just immediately accepted it, taking Peter being there as an inevitability, not even thinking twice about it. Tim shoved his hands in his pockets as he bit his lip, his heart start to speed up in his chest. This was–this was not something that Tim had planned.
Inviting Peter to the gala was a terrible idea. It would be filled with stuffy rich people who he would have no clue how to talk to, and the other boy could barely even buy school uniforms without having a panic attack. Everyone there would be wearing outfits that cost more than most Gothamites made in a year and Tim would bet all of his money that Peter didn’t even have a suit. Tim didn’t even have a single contingency in place for the night, he hadn't even begin to consider who Peter would talk to. Tim himself would have to schmooze with as many donors as he could or be with Bruce, so he would have to shove Peter off with Steph and Duke, which meant that Dick would probably eventually talk to him too. That meant explaining why they were all wrapped up with a random kid and Duke would likely immediately fold and admit they had stalked him, even if Tim thought it was all justifiable.
“This is a terrible idea,” Tim realized, walking over and sinking down into the couch between Steph and Duke. “Holy sh*t. Why didn’t you guys talk me out of this.”
Steph reached over and patted him on the knee. “Yeah, we know.”
“It’s a little too late to take it back now,” Duke told him as he gently shook his shoulder. “You kind of already invited him.”
“I might be an idiot,” Tim mumbled through his hands as he put his head in between his knees.
“Yeah, but you’re our idiot.” Steph put all of her weight against his side, forcing Tim to look at her. “Who cares what everyone else will think. Don’t think about all the ways it could go wrong or whatever else is going on in that freaky head of yours. Do you want him to come?”
“I think so,” Tim said very quietly, avoiding any and all eye contact.
“Then we’ll figure it out.” Duke told him softly and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “Come on, we’re all teenage vigilantes. I’m sure we can figure out how to get Peter through the night.”
Peter stood outside a sh*tty apartment building, trying to avoid the puddle of blood that seemed to be drying on the pavement. As he tried to avoid staining his shoes one of wooden boards nailed over a window swung off, falling through the air as his spidey sense rang. Stepping to the side as it clattered exactly where Peter had been standing, he felt the envelope through the outside of his front pocket, taking some comfort in the weight. He’d spent his last nights split between patrolling as Spiderman and scrolling through the worst apartments Gotham had to offer. The one Vicki had sent him seemed nicer and still was cheap enough he could pay for it, but Peter really wanted to have enough to eat.
All of that led him to this building that seemed to literally be crumbling apart, but had the lowest rent quite possibly in the whole city. Online it had said to just walk in for a tour but he was a little concerned that he was going to be walking into an active crime scene. The longer he stood there, the more doubt started to creep into his mind. Peter could just keep sleeping in alleyways or the school locker room, squirrel the money away until he really needed it. And if he was going to be back in his own world any day now it made no sense to buy a whole apartment.
Making up his mind to walk away, the front door with paint flaking off of it slammed open, and Peter’s posture widened as he brought his hands up, ready for a fight. Instead an old woman, with tan sun weathered skin and curly white hair emerged, wearing an old fashioned dress and doubled over while clutching a cane.
“Hiya dearie,” the woman said sweetly, her voice rough like she’d been smoking cigarettes for decades. “Did you come to look at an apartment?”
He wanted to tell her no but Peter felt his resolve crumbling, and he reluctantly nodded. It was a Sunday so technically he had nothing else to do with his day. “Uhm, yes ma’am.”
“Lovely, lovely!” She announced, turning back around and hobbling back inside. “Come with me, I’ll give you a nice old tour of the place.”
Slightly bewildered Peter followed her inside, holding the door open so it didn’t hit her as she walked in. She toddled along unphased and Peter had no choice but to walk slowly behind her.
“My name is Mrs. Gutierrez sweetie, but you can call me whatever you’d like. I have a nice apartment, fit for a nice young man just like you. Come, come, let me show you around.”
Peter was honestly a little nervous she would fall down the stairs with the way her hands shook around her cane, but she somehow made her way up to the third floor without collapsing. There didn’t seem to be an elevator in the entrance although there were a few hopefully sets of washers and dryers, which was a positive. Every step let out an ominous creak as they made their way up and Peter didn’t even attempt to touch the railing. Mrs. Guitierrez didn’t seem to notice any of that, happily babbling as they walked.
“Here it is, look at how wonderful the space is! And it’s so well lit, a growing boy like you needs sun so you can continue to get taller, the ladies like their men tall, trust me. Now, my third husband–”
She continued to ramble as she nudged the first door open with her cane, swinging to reveal a studio apartment, with a small kitchenette and what looked like a bathroom off to the side. The room was very well lit, but Peter had a sneaking suspicion that it was because of the multiple small holes in the wall. It actually wasn’t the smallest apartment he’d ever seen and all of the holes could easily be fixed. He walked inside to really look around the room, trying to take in the space, and it was quaint in a way that almost reminded him of May’s place.
“How much is it?” Peter asked, pausing after he realized he probably interrupted whatever the woman was saying.
He thought he saw a brief flash of surprise flit across the woman’s face, but it was hard to really see behind her thick glasses. “Of course! Well rent is usually about $200 a month and the initial down payment is $150, if that works for you.”
Peter felt his eyes almost bulge out of his head at how low her offer was. May’s apartment was a two bedroom in a nicer part of Queens and he wasn’t an expert in property prices, but he felt like that was too low even if this place was falling apart.
Her face scrunched up when Peter didn’t respond, and Mrs. Gutierrez reached out and grasped at his hand, her skin thin and papery. “Darling, if that isn’t something you can do at this time I’m willing to make a discount, a discount just for a sweet boy like you. Just tell me whatever price you can do, sweetie and we can make it work.”
“No, no, that’s fine!” He hurriedly replied, shaking his head. Peter understood that he could probably negotiate the rent at least a little lower, but he wasn’t sure if his conscience could stand bartering with this old woman. “I can do that.”
“Beautiful,” she responded and fished a key out of her cardigan, holding it out in one shaking hand. “Here you go, enjoy the space my love.”
Peter slowly reached out and grabbed it, his phone starting to ring out at the same time. He offered Mrs. Gutierrez an apologetic look, but she gave him a wave as she turned to walk out.
“Don’t you worry about it darling, I’m sure you’re a popular boy. I’ll be back later, you enjoy the apartment!”
As she walked out Peter had the realization that she hadn’t asked for his name or anything about him at any point, and wondered if that was a Gotham thing or just this old woman. He almost was worried that someone else would take advantage of her as Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was an unknown number, but Peter still answered it and put it up to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Peter, where are you right now.” Vicki Vale demanded on the other line, and Peter had to pull the phone back for a second to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“I’m sorry? How did you get my number?”
It sounded like Vicki was either moving or walking fast, wind blowing slightly into the speaker. “It doesn’t matter, where are you? And how soon do you think you can get to the Financial District?”
“Vicki, I don’t even know where that is!” He replied, clutching his hair as he spun around the room, like he could find something to fix his problem. “I’m in the Alley?”
“Why are you in Crime Alley? Wait, nevermind, that’s not what’s important. I need you to get over here right now, I’m going to send you my location. Be here in thirty okay? I don’t care if you have to steal a car to get here on time, but you better get over here.”
Peter practically threw himself out the door, scrambling to lock his new apartment door as he pressed the phone between his shoulder and ear. “Is everything okay? Do you need help?”
Vicki let out what sounded like a soft laugh on the other line, telling him, “Hurry over here,” before the line went dead.
He pulled the phone back to confirm that she really had hung up on him and Peter shoved his phone back away in frustration. Ducking into the alleyway and casting a quick glance to make sure no one was around, Peter climbed up the side of the building and up onto the roof. A small beep echoed in his pocket as Vicki presumably sent him the address and he started sprinting in hopefully the correct direction as he pulled up the directions. It was a forty minute drive away at least, and Peter let out a sigh as he pushed his legs to be even faster.
After about twenty minutes of sprinting at his top speed the buildings got increasingly nicer and Peter started to slow his pace before someone noticed. He crept over the roofs, keeping himself low and out of sight, until he reached the address Vicki had sent him. There was a door that seemed to be connected to the stairwell inside, but he wasn’t sure if he should just walk in. Peter pulled out his phone to double check and peaked out over the edge while in a crouch, seeing the cars honking and people strolling along. There was no real back alley to climb down into, as the building was nice enough that it was surrounded by streets on both sides. As Peter looked at his phone, seeing the clock tick closer to the time Vicki had set, his phone suddenly started to ring.
He picked up and put it to his ear, hearing Vicki again on the other line. “Peter? Are you almost here?”
Peter stood up, staring down at least twenty stories to the ground below. “I’m here,” he responded slowly, wondering if he could throw himself through a window inconspicuously.
“Why does it sound like you’re asking me and not telling me?”
“Uhm,” Peter tried to think of an explanation that made sense. “No reason?”
“Peter. Where are you?”
“I might be on the roof?”
“Of the building?” She demanded and Peter had to pull the phone away from his ear at the sheer volume of her voice. “Hold on a second.”
It sounded like Vicki either placed the phone down or stopped speaking into it, while Peter stood awkwardly alone on a roof. There was a door and Peter walked over and tried to twist the door, not being surprised in the least when it was locked.
Vicki’s voice got slightly louder as he put both hands on the doorknob as he balanced the phone in between his ear and shoulder, giving the handle a rough tug, feeling it budge slightly. At this point Peter just wanted to get inside of the building, no longer caring how weird it would look as he slipped his phone into his pocket so he could use both hands. He prepared to yank on the handle once again, using a majority of his full strength when the door flew open, knocking Peter back onto the floor.
Peter gaped up at the door, seeing a younger man around his own age in a bellhop uniform with an incredulous expression on his face. Attempting to save some of his dignity, he popped back on his feet as he dusted off his pants. The bellhop was still staring at Peter like he was a ghost when he heard Vicki’s voice coming through the speaker of his phone and fished it out.
“Peter? Are you there?”
“Yeah, sorry,” he replied, glancing at the man still blocking the door. “Um, I think someone came to get me?”
He could hear Vicki’s sigh even through the phone. “Tell them you’re here to see me, I’m on the sixth floor.”
Peter opened his mouth to ask for literally any other information but the line went dead. He looked up helplessly at the bellhop, who looked just as confused.
“Do you think you could take me to Vicki Vale? Somewhere on the sixth floor?”
He nodded once but didn’t budge. Peter looked silently up at the sky and wondered how this became his life. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Oh, sorry,” the bellhop rushed out, pushing the door open and letting him through. “Just, how did you get on the roof? I didn’t even know we had a door on the roof. And I think my manager almost had a heart attack when I asked for the key to get up here.”
“I got a little lost?” Peter realized he said that with not nearly enough confidence and tried again. “I mean, I was already up here.”
If anything the bellhop looked more lost and Peter resisted the urge to just throw himself off the side of the building. “Can you just take me to the sixth floor?”
The bellhop seemed to give up and led Peter down a flight of stairs and through an awkward elevator ride to the sixth floor, aggressively avoiding eye contact throughout. The elevator doors slid open with a ding and Peter practically sprinted out, giving the other man a slight nod with a brief, “Thanks.”
“No problem,” the other man said as the doors slid shut once again. “Please don’t end up on the roof again.”
Peter wanted to feel offended but also that was fair enough. He turned away from the elevator, seeing a large lobby with shining floors and tall columns lining the walls, a glistening chandelier hanging delicately from the ceiling. The lighting in the room was warm despite the air being cool and Peter had the same feeling he sometimes got around Tony, like he was experiencing obscene wealth. There was a woman dressed in a smooth pencil skirt and blouse with a blazer over it whose head snapped in his direction as he looked around the room.
Her heels clicked across the floor as she made his way over to him, a large smile plastered across her face. “Peter? This way please.”
She spun around and made her way towards an elaborate set of doors and pulled one of them open, holding it open for him. Peter was feeling increasingly out of his depth but didn’t see any other options other than just heading inside, so he hoped this was Vicki’s doing and made his way through. Inside there were rows upon rows of suit jackets lining the walls, of all colors and sizes. Reaching out and gently brushing his hand against one of the sleeves, the fabric was soft and clearly very expensive, and he pulled his hand back almost as fast.
Continuing down the hallway he saw a sitting area where Vicki was lounging in a leather chair, her lips pursed as she examined two suit jackets that a man was holding out to her. The past few times he’d seen the other woman she had looked stressed, her clothing wrinkled and her makeup smeared as she grappled with the issues of whatever Peter’s latest picture had brought her. But here her hair was pin straight and with her signature bright red lipstick, wearing a tight black dress that screamed elegance.
“No, no, the red is too much, I want him to look the part without being too flamboyant,” Vicki announced as she took a delicate sip of the glass of champagne in her hand, waving the man away. Her sharp green eyes widened when she saw Peter, her mouth pulling into a smile. “Peter! Come take a seat.”
She patted a spot on the couch next to her as the man holding the suits retreated back towards the rows of clothing. “Vicki, what’s going on? Why are we here?”
“Why do you think we’re here?” Vicki placed the glass of champagne down, lacing her fingers as she turned to look at him. “I told you we needed to get you a suit for the Wayne gala.”
“I didn’t think you meant at a place like this!” Peter gestured at the room around them, the obvious wealth on display in every corner in the room. “I can’t believe they even let me in here.”
Vicki sighed and patted the couch again next to her and he reluctantly took a seat. “Listen Peter, I know that all of this is new to you, and that’s understandable. But this is something you need to start getting used to. Between you being invited to the gala and the last few stories we’ve worked on, you’re going to be something big, trust me.” A gleam came over her eyes as she leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice. “And we haven’t even gotten to the big stories yet.”
Peter felt his mouth go dry as Vicki pushed herself to her feet, strolling over to a nearby row of suits and starting to look through them. “I, uh, have been meaning to talk to you about that.”
Pulling a dark blue jacket off the hanger, Vicki held it in Peter’s direction as she squinted slightly. “If it’s about the Spiderman story then I don’t want to hear it. I think we should be focusing on more of a cohesive narrative, not having you chasing some spider person across town. I’ve been looking at the numbers and I think the Red Robin story would do best right now.”
“It’s not about that,” Peter told her as she hung the jacket back up and pulled off another one. The Spiderman story would actually be easier than tracking down Red Robin but Peter wasn’t sure exactly how he would explain that. “It was more about what we discussed during our first meeting? About Batman?”
This seemed to catch Vicki’s attention and she shot him a look over her shoulder. “What about it?”
“I’m just, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with the whole thing.”
Peter wrung his hands and avoided looking at her, resting his elbows on his knees as he hunched over. In his peripheral vision he saw her still and Peter tried to take a deep breath. It wasn’t that he was scared of Vicki’s response or what she might think of him, but Vicki had done so much for him. Above and beyond what she’d supposed to do, and the money still weighed heavily in the envelope still hidden in his pocket. And Peter is aware that he had helped her career, given her a spotlight to step into, but she could have just as easily shot him down and kicked him out the moment he walked into the Gotham Gazette.
He saw Vicki make her way over to him and she took a seat at the edge of the coffee table so she was directly in front of him. Even though Peter kept his eyes focused on his hands Vicki reached out and gently grasped them, making him look up at her.
“Peter,” she told him softly. “I don’t want to make you do something that you don’t want to do. But what you have, your talent, it’s something that’s truly special.” She gripped his hands tighter. “We could go down in history, revolutionize an industry.”
“But why do you want to take down Batman to do it?” He pushed back. “He’s a hero and from everything I’ve heard he’s doing good, genuine good for Gotham. What if us uncovering his identity ruins that? What if he has a family, people that we would be putting in danger.”
Letting go of his hands Vicki stood back up, agitatedly smoothing her hair with her hands. “Batman is a criminal, Peter. At the end of the day he’s a man in a costume who beats people up in back alleys, all outside of the law. Right now there’s no way to hold him accountable for that, for any of the wrong that he’s done.”
“But what about the supervillains that he fights? The police alone wouldn’t be able to handle it, not without a decent loss. Doesn’t the city need him?”
“Half of the reason they exist in the first place is because of him!” Vicki’s voice was passionate as it echoed through the room. “Villains like the Joker, Scarecrow, Penguin, or the Riddler exist to challenge Batman, spreading evil in this city to prove that they’re smarter or that they’re better. And if Batman continues to exist even more will come out of the woodwork, another challenger trying to destroy Gotham.”
Peter watched as Vicki’s chest heaved as the fire slowly faded from her eyes, and he tried not to take her words to heart. Batman was–He wasn’t Peter, wasn’t Spiderman. Gotham was still a new place and he didn’t possess the same knowledge of the city that Vicki did, so he had no way to know if what she was saying was even the truth. But Peter knew what it was like to save a person, to put his life on the line no matter if he was facing a normal robber or a supervillain. To put all the blame on Batman for every bad thing that went on in this city just didn’t seem fair to him.
Vicki sat back down next to him on the couch, leaning back as she tilted her chin towards the ceiling. “I grew up in Gotham and I love this city, I really do. But it’s not a kind place and I wasn’t always as smart as I am now. When I was younger all I wanted to do was be known in the industry, no matter what I had to do. One time I was hunting down a story, something about a low level thief, and I got into a little bit of trouble. There was some random man with a gun cornering anyone he saw, and lucky enough for him I was there and alone.”
“Vicki–” Peter whispered, feeling dread pooling in his stomach.
“I thought I was dead, really and truly, you know? Gotham is dangerous, any idiot could tell you that, but I didn’t think that was something that actually applied to me. And just when I’d accepted it, that I was going to bleed out in some back alley all alone, a boy in a mask not wearing pants dropped out of the sky. He took out the man in a second flat, smiled and said something that I couldn’t hear over my own heartbeat, and escorted me home.”
Peter couldn’t help the confused look that came over his face, searching Vicki’s expression for what she was trying to tell him. Vicki gave him a sad smile, continuing, “There have been multiple Robins, but judging by the timeframe it was probably the second Robin who saved me. He was a feisty kid, quick with his fists and to smile. After about two years he disappeared and Batman got, well, violent. The number of people he was sending to the hospital skyrocketed and everyone noticed the absence of a certain someone at his side. Then a new Robin appeared, about half a foot and shorter and twenty pounds lighter and no one could find a trace of the previous Robin.”
“Are–are you saying Batman killed him?” Peter asked, unable to help the horror that leaked into his voice.
“Not exactly,” Vicki replied, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “But rumor has it that he was killed and Batman has never been held accountable or faced a single repercussion for that, or for any of the other kids he leads who risk their lives on a nightly basis. Not to mention the countless other crimes that he commits on a nightly basis, everything from assault and battery to destruction of property. The police have long given up on trying to corral Batman, and now if anything they work with him.”
“Doesn’t that mean that he’s doing good? If even the police are willing to work with him?”
“The point is that there’s no one to challenge him or his actions. Batman is just a man, a man who does both good and bad. He, like everyone else, deserves to be held responsible for what he’s done. The power he holds over Gotham is immense, but if he woke up tomorrow and decided to start killing people there would be nothing we could do. And if Batman truly believes he’s done no wrong then why not let the legitimacy of his actions can be judged by the public?”
“But he might have a family he needs to protect,” Peter argued again. “I mean, what about the Robins? If they’re just kids then wouldn’t exposing their identities only put them in more danger?”
“They’re already in danger,” she told him, giving him an exasperated look. “When the first Robin started he couldn’t have been a teenager yet and you were the person who took the picture of the current one. Do you think that’s old enough to patrol the streets, fighting murders and villains every night? Batman could stop them if he really wanted, instead he lets these children risk their lives every night, unable to comprehend the true severity of their actions.”
Peter can feel the frustration inside him and he clenched his hands tight into fists to avoid telling her his true thoughts. There was no world in which he didn’t become Spiderman, in which watching Ben die didn’t change him in an irreversible way. And even though he had been young when he started, it wasn’t something he regretted and Peter believed he understood the importance behind the choices he’d made. But once more he felt the words dying on his tongue as he stared at Vicki, unable to properly articulate what he wanted to say.
Taking a deep breath as he tried to pull his thoughts together, he turned away from Vicki. “I just don’t want to be the reason anyone gets hurt,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “I understand what you’re saying Vicki, I really do. But if we figure out his identity and that leads to him getting hurt or the people he loves dying, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive myself.”
Vicki reached out and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and Peter’s eyes snapped over to her in surprise. “Okay. If that’s how you feel then I won’t push it anymore. Just consider it and we’ll focus on the Red Robin case for now. Peter, just promise me you’ll consider it, okay? If you think about it and you still hate the idea then I’ll never bring it up again. But this could be the biggest moment of my career.” She paused for a moment, eyes darting over to him. “I mean, of our career.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll think about it,” Peter reluctantly said, and a bright smile immediately came over Vicki’s face.
“Thank you,” Vicki said, relief clear in her tone. She gave his shoulder one last squeeze before she popped back onto her feet, walking across the room and pulling a hanger off the rack, holding a dark gray suit out towards him. “Now, for the fun stuff. Are you ready to try on some suits?”
Peter couldn’t help the terrified look that came over his face, and the laugh Vicki let out in response was deep from her chest. He was ushered into a changing room as Vicki tossed three piece suits on the door, with clear instructions that he would be trying all of them on and that there would be no arguments. With a sigh Peter quickly changed, pulling on a pair of clean slacks while he buttoned up a smooth polo shirt. Finally he pulled the suit jacket on, giving himself a once over in the mirror.
He looked, for lack of a better word, rich. Peter looked the part of high society, as a fancy one could look while his hair was a mess and there was some dirt smeared across his cheek which he quickly rubbed off. The longer he looked in the mirror the less Peter recognized the person staring back at him and he tugged at the collar, feeling his throat tighten.
“Alright in there?” Vicki called out and Peter jumped.
“Yeah, coming!” He said, pushing open the door.
Across the room Vicki gave him a nod and an appraising look. “It looks good! Do you like it?”
“I guess,” Peter replied, walking back over to the mirror and shifting from side to side. “I mean, I don’t really know anything about suits. It seems nice enough.”
“Nice enough,” Vicki parroted, moving over to stand next to him. “If you could see the price tag you might change your mind.”
Peter looked back at himself in the mirror, feeling scandalized. “Vicki, how much is it? Oh my god,” he gasped, holding out his arms and desperately searching for the price tag.
“Stop.” Vicki tugged on the lapels of his suit, making him still as she draped a tie over his neck and started to knot it. “Don’t worry about it, this one's on me. I can probably get you payed to go the gala too, as long as you can sneak your camera in as well.”
“So this gala is that big of a deal?”
The look Vicki gave him could freeze even hell. “This is the event of the year, and the fact that you’re just going to waltz your way in astounds me. You, Peter, continue to astound me.” She finished with his tie, meeting his eyes. “You know, you never finished explaining to me how exactly you got this invitation.”
“I didn’t?” Peter winced.
“Well you mentioned Tim Drake but that was about it. Care to share how exactly you convinced Tim Drake to give you a ticket?”
“I don’t like how you say his name.” To avoid the smirk he could practically feel on Vicki’s face he turned back towards the mirror, tightening his tie to give his hands something to do. She said Tim’s name with the same tone she’d had when she mentioned a latest story, a certain hunger in her voice that didn’t seem right for Tim. The looks Tim had gotten as they walked the halls replayed in his mind, along with the pinched expression on his face. “And I didn’t convince him of anything, he just offered.”
“He offered?”
Vicki sounded like she didn’t believe him and Peter felt himself start to bristle. “Yeah, he just asked! Maybe he just felt bad for me or something, I don’t know why he gave me an invitation.”
“You think invited you because he feels sorry for you? Peter, you genuinely can’t think of any other reason he wanted you to come? Are you sure you didn’t charm him?”
Peter felt his face flush, and he frustratedly pulled off his tie. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“No, I think we have to talk about this now. What could you have possibly done that made the Tim Drake beg you to come to his gala? Do you have any other special skills you’ve been hiding from me?”
“We’re friends!” Peter yelled. “Tim is weirdly nice, and, and caring, and smart, but still funny somehow? And there’s just something about him that I want to figure out, and he keeps smiling at me! Then whenever he smiles he looks at me with his eyes, and they’re just so blue! It’s almost creepy how blue they are and then I forget what I was going to say, like when he asks me if I want to go to this stupid gala!”
Throughout his rant Vicki’s eyes had widened and she took a step back. Peter realized what he had said and slapped his hands over his face and loudly groaned. Vicki reached out and gave his back a light pat as Peter considered leaving this cursed city and never coming back.
“So clearly you gave a lot of feelings about this that I’m not even sure how to begin to touch,” Vicki admitted, “So let’s work on getting you a nice suit. Not so you can impress Tim Drake or anything, who's apparently your very good friend, of course. Just so you can fit in and take some earth shattering pictures, like you always do. And if you have time for it maybe you can try to track down Red Robin, if you need something else to occupy your mind. But come on, I want to see you in this dark blue suit, it’ll bring out your eyes.”
Peter glanced at her in between his fingers. “You think it’ll bring out my eyes?”
“You’ll be the prettiest girl at the ball,” Vicki told him reassuringly. “Now let’s get you ready. I still have to brief you about all the high society gossip and trust me, there will be a pop quiz at the end.”
Vicki continued to babble on, keeping her tone light as she shoved another suit towards him. Peter grabbed it almost robotically, letting the words wash over him. His chest still felt tight and as Peter felt his heart rate return to normal, he couldn’t help but think over what he’d said. Something about Tim Drake bothered him, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He pushed his shoulders back as he tried to refocus on what Vicki was saying. Whatever was going on, he needed to get a handle on himself, and soon. Peter pushed Tim out of his mind and followed after Vicki, ignoring the odd sinking feeling in his stomach. He had more important things to focus on and shouldn’t bother with whatever was going on here. After all, soon enough he’d be back home, far, far away from Tim and his blue eyes. And as he followed after Vicki, he tried to ignore the sinking feeling growing in his stomach.
