Chapter Text
Steph and Cass arrived later than everyone else to the monthly family lunch-slash-dinner. Two entire months late, to be precise. They felt bad about it, of course, but work had been relentless. By the time they could catch a breath, the calendar had already sprinted ahead without them.
It would probably be a while before they could join again, especially considering the latest headlines about monsters roaming the streets. Literal monsters.
But that was a problem for another day. Today was reserved for the sacred tradition of eating too much and getting roasted by their far-too-large family.
The first thing to greet them as they stepped into the manor was the familiar chaos. The cacophony of overlapping voices bounced off the walls. From the living room, the ever-present news channel blared in the background, currently fixated on the growing number of monster sightings around the world.
The topic was on everyone’s mind, and understandably so. Real monsters, not just the metaphorical ones Gotham was used to, were an existential kind of unsettling. No one knew how to react. The creatures hadn't hurt anyone, not yet, but their mere presence had flipped the global anxiety switch to maximum. The experts were still fumbling for answers. Until they had them, the unknown was terrifying.
In the dining room, the table was already packed, and the arguments and teasing insults were in full swing. Amid all the noise, Dick was the first to spot them.
“Steph! Cass! You made it!” he called out, rising halfway from his chair.
“Hey, everybody,” Steph said with a crooked smile. Cass offered her usual quiet nod and subtle, serene smile.
“I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” Bruce added, his voice gruff but carrying a rare undercurrent of relief.
“We weren’t either,” Steph admitted as they took their seats. “Work’s been intense.”
“Have you seen any monsters?” Duke cut in, clearly more interested in mythical threats than polite conversation.
“Not here,” Steph said, grabbing a roll. “They don’t seem to be causing too much trouble.”
The television suddenly spiked in volume, the sharp rise cutting clean through the background chatter. Everyone turned to look.
The reporter on screen was broadcasting live from outside the Empire State Building. Her voice trembled with urgency as she detailed a bizarre new development.
A white van, boldly emblazoned with the words “Delphis Strawberry,” had parked right out front. That was strange enough since people barely went outside anymore unless absolutely necessary. But what made it utterly insane was that a group of kids had emerged from the van. Kids, wearing matching orange t-shirts and jorts. They had marched into the building like they weren’t stepping through what was basically a monster-infested war zone.
The camera caught their faces as they exited again, heading back toward the van.
“That’s Percy!” Tim blurted out.
“Who?” Duke asked, brow furrowed.
“Percy. Jason’s boyfriend,” Tim clamped his mouth shut too late, eyes wide with regret as he caught the glare Jason shot him from across the table.
“Jason has a boyfriend?”
“Why is that always such a shock?”
“Well, you’re not exactly the social type.”
“Who even is this guy?”
“His name’s Percy,” Tim said quickly, “and he makes cookies that are to die for.”
The screen shifted again. The reporter was now face-to-face with Percy, Jason's Percy, peppering him with questions. Percy held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence.
“You’ll get your answers soon,” he said, voice calm but firm. “They’re working on a way to share everything you need to know. After that, there’ll be a press conference. All your questions will be answered.”
With that, he turned and climbed back into the van. The doors slammed shut, and the vehicle drove off.
Back at the table, silence reigned for half a beat before the inevitable explosion.
“That’s your boyfriend?” Steph asked, incredulous.
“Why is he involved in this?” Bruce demanded, voice suddenly hard.
“When is he coming back? I miss his cookies,” Tim added, far too innocently. He was rewarded with a round of betrayed glares from those who had never even heard Percy’s name until two minutes ago.
A storm of questions followed, loud, overlapping and relentless. Jason didn’t answer a single one. He just kept eating, eyes fixed on his plate like it might contain a map out of this situation. He was clearly waiting for divine intervention, or Alfred.
Eventually, and predictably so, Alfred stepped in and brought the room to order with just a look and a gentle clearing of his throat.
“You heard what they said,” Jason said, finally looking up. His voice was calm and firm. “They’ll explain everything. If they don’t, you can ask him when he gets back.”
With that, he pushed his chair back, stood up, and left the room, effectively ending the interrogation.
Once he was back in his room he tried calling Percy but it went straight to voicemail, so he curled up in his bed with a thick book in his lap, hoping that fiction might be enough to distract him from the bizarre, nerve-prickling reality outside and inside his own head.
He knew more than most. He had seen behind the curtain. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid. The opposite actually.
He just hoped, desperately, that everything would be okay