Muffin

"Look, normally I would be happy that you joined the dark side. And I'm all for supporting of ruining B's day, fuck his god damn moral code. Welcome to killing shitbags, ladies and gents." Jason said sarcastically, hands on the hips as he stared down at Tim and Damian, who both looked like they were called to the principle's office.

Then Jason's eyes narrowed, pissed, "But why the fuck did you decide to kill my partner?"

"He's not worthy of you," Damian huffed. "In fact, I would think he qualifies since he is a "scum" by your definition."

Jason glared. "You are lucky that he can't die actually."

Cue Bruce being stared down with a Batman worthy glare by the mountain of a man that is Dan - who Danny only called his little rascal.

Jason, angry and defensive: yeah i died and coroner left me some new scars for when i came back

Danny: at least you weren’t awake for yours

Jason: what??

Danny lifts his own shirt to show matching scars.

Jason, horrified: you weren’t even dead, why the—

Danny: well, no i was dead, technically, just also awake

Danny is having a good time until one day he witnesses someone spray painting something on a wall. He plans to ignore it until a vigilante jumps down and instead of running the guys points at him and says.

“He did it.”

He thought everything is fine.

Which was his biggest mistake because it all started of that mistaken spray painting incident where he got blamed for the crime. And it's becoming a domino effect after that because it seems people started blaming some stupid crime on Danny when he was just walking by, and now he's forced to start running from the Bats

Because if ACAB stands for all cops are bastards. Well, Danny wholeheartedly believes there's ABAB, aka All Bats are Bastards, which is this case. And Danny really didn't want to take a chance of being kicked out of Gotham because of his 'meta' powers. No sireee

"Cheryl, I just locked Joker in the deep freezer, what do I do?" The words came out in a rush as he leaned against the hallway, nervously looking at the door as if the clown demon would somehow punch through six inches of metal and survive subzero temperatures.

"Are you fucking with me, Fenton? You know I'm in the middle of a shitshow right now."

He breathed out a little hysterically. "No, I'm not fucking with you. There's a bunch of Joker goons in the base on 7th street. I lured them into the deep freezer—"

"The one without exits?"

"Yeah, uh-huh, the one with no exits. And then I barricaded the door."

There was an audible muffle of words and a few shouts and what sounded like gunshots. Danny was worried his closest coworker got shot until she came back on the line, out of breath.

"Let me get this straight— your first thought when the Joker invaded our headquarters was to lock him in a freezer?"

"No, I had time to think about it." Danny answered absently as he wandered down to the utility room after he turned on the fans to full blast. He wasn't the designated handyman, but a Fenton with a screwdriver could do anything, really.

Just because he was the janitor didn't mean he somehow lost the ability to fix a washer, oil a door, or wire a ghost electric chair. (Yes, that was a real thing, and yes, he did destroy it when he moved out of Amity Park.)

Speaking of moving, he supposes it's important on A. why he was in a Red Hood base (and more broadly, Gotham), B. Why he was a janitor in a Red Hood base, C. why he knew a lieutenant of Red Hood and D. why he had just committed what most would call felony murder.

(Danny would call it self defense, but potato pahtato when you're working for a gang.)

It all came down to one thing. He was good at cleaning. How, Danny "The Slob" Fenton, do such a thing when his room was sometimes more of a bio risk than the literal lab?

It's that Jazz was constantly stressed with school and taking care of him, so a lot of chores often fell to him.

Which meant cleaning up the lab.

Sure, he was no where near happy about this arrangement, but it wasn't like he could tell his sister "Hey! Stop giving me non-contaminated food and clean, woman!"

He was a lazy, deeply sarcastic, a borderline delinquent and a vigilante, but he drew the line at misogyny And, you know, his hotdogs trying to murk him in his stomach.

Ergo, Danny the bitter cleaner of all things radioactive and probably illegal.

The thing with the Fenton lab? There was always something staining the floor. Whether it be blood, ectoplasm, oil, lubrication for bolts, coffee, or an ungodly mix of all of it.

He had to get creative and fast.

Ectoplasm is a bit corrosive and stains like you wouldn't believe, even on metal floor. So he learned to put a bit of his own ectoplasm and mini ice particles so it would actually be able to be scrubbed out of the floor.

Coffee? Oil? Yeah. Cleaning supplies were mixed together like a potion master, toeing the line between dangerous and genius. He was always careful enough not to make chlorine gas or chloroform.

It became an uncanny skill, along with other things. He knew how to get spots out of clothing, how to make homemade detergent and how to get any stain or blemish out of almost any material.

So, when he moved to Gotham to complete his bachelors in chemical engineering at G.C.U., he knew he had to get a job somewhere.

And there was a lot of benefits for custodial staff in his position. Good hours, mostly at night or afternoons when he'd be free. And he knew a lot about cleaning, so why not?

...He hadn't really planned to be scouted as a crime cleaner, though.

Especially for a gang.

But hey! They even gave dental. Red Hood didn't even seem all that bad, drug peddling and murder aside. (Unsurprisingly, he could put a lot of things aside. His parents and well, Phantom, etc.)

If he kept his mouth shut, head down and hands working, he could get a good wage and even better benefits.

Danny, much to his dismay and minor shock, became known as 'the guy who can get stains out of literally everything.' Goons would literally stop and watch him like he was preforming black magic on a crime scenes walls. Even more surprisingly, he got clients and friends from this arrangement.

(Ignoring that one time of the jackets he was randomly given looks like Red Hood's.

No pressure. Just a crime lord who (allegedly) put heads into a duffel bag and mailed it to another crime boss.

He does it anyway, because he has a reputation (and monetary gain) to keep.)

So! Back to the present.

"What the fuck. What the fuck!" Cheryl hissed, whether at him or what he assumed was a gunfight in the background, "Jesus effin' Christ Danny, get out of there."

The halfa swung open the maintenance/janitorial supply room, trying to be nonchalant as his brain spirals and calculates. "I don't think Jesus can fuck Christ. They seem almost identical, y'know?"

Hydrogen sulfide would be the quickest killer, but chloroform could also do it if they didn't have enough acids and sulfur cleaning products.

Decisions, decisions.

Eh. Fuck it.

Danny grabbed some plywood, a box full of tools, his handy dandy cleaning supplies and a big plastic bucket. He would call his shaky hands adrenaline instead of being absolutely terrified that the most notorious mass-murderer in America was a few rooms down.

"Danny, I'm not fuckin' joking. You need to get the hell out of there. That's an order, you brilliant, stupid piece of shit."

He began trotting back to the deep freezer, inhaling through his teeth and scrubbing his face. "Kinky," he said, with levity he sure as hell didn't feel, "Hey, so, I'm gonna have to call you back. Tell me once you get out of your Nerf gun battle."

"Dann—!"

Danny snapped on a respirator, tucked his phone away, and quickly dumped a mixture of chemicals he knew would kill, well, a lot of things.

He'd heard the screaming and gunshots even through the thickest 1950s subzero room known to man. Kind of hard to muffle even that.

But alas. He went partially intangible, hauling his bucket of unicorn love and sparkles, floating up towards the air ducts. With no pizzaz, he dumped the entire thing in the vent system for the room.

The screams immediately rose in volume, and so did the ping of gunshots. Not wasting the time to poke his intangible head in and see how they were doing, he reappeared back in the hallway.

To be a safeguard even for an empty base, he quickly hammered in some plywood to any vents, duct taping the edges.

And for the coup de grâce, he sealed the door with his ectoplasm ice, cranked up the fan and turned the temperature to the lowest it could reasonably go.

"Have fun in there kiddos," he rapped the door, and then got the fuck out of the base. So really, he was following Cheryl's order. So it wasn't insubordination, no siree. Just insurance.

— — —

Danny found himself grabbing a cup of coffee. It wouldn't help his nerves, absolutely not, but at least it gave him something to do with his hands as he called up Cheryl.

"Danny!" She immediately snapped, and he winced.

"Hi, Cheryl," He demurred, hoping to project the most charming air that she could definitely see through. "How're you doing?"

"Don't change the subject, pretty boy."

He held his tongue at a sarcastic comment to that. "Mmmm yeah, so. About that. Would you mind like, not telling the Big Guy about what I did? Keep it like, anonymous act of charity?"

"Why." The word was sharp, almost unquestioning. Danny kept from squeezing his plastic ice coffee cup so hard that it would explode.

Okay. Okay. He had to do this. "I'm a Meta." He explained. "I really— Like, I left something definitely a Meta could do to keep the Joker in the deep freezer room." He really didn't want to become some super soldier or enforcer. He would quite literally rather kill someone before he did that.

It wasn't like there wasn't Metas in Gotham or, hell, some gangs. But he wasn't just Danny the Throw Him At Any Problem Because He Has Powers guy, and he never wanted to be. He just wanted to get his degree, get paid, and get out.

"Too late. I'd already told him that you'd locked Joker in there."

Danny smacked his head against the cafe table, wishing he inhaled more of the chemical weapon in the plastic Home Depot bucket.

"Cheryl," He said, with thinly veiled horror and dread.

Her voice audibly softened. "Danny. It's fine. You know he wouldn't throw you off the Harbor or anything. Hell, he's probably going to be grateful, however uncharacteristic. Everyone 's gonna be. It's the Joker."

Danny gave a truly pathetic groan as the now murderer of the Joker, and wondered if being fed to the fishes was truly a worse fate.

— — —

Jason was smoking on one of the balcony of his many safe houses, holding a picture of the man in front of him.

It'd been a long night and a long morning. Once he had gotten the intel that the Joker was locked in a deep freezer, in one of his goddamn bases, you bet your lucky fucking stars he had gotten there faster than Bruce had gotten to him.

It had taken hours to get into the room from whatever the hell was coated over the door, and dear fuck was it worth the effort.

The Joker was dead. So were many of his closest lieutenants and underlings. Some had died from GSWs, other from chemical burns or inhalation, and the Joker? The best of all.

He'd died slowly and painfully from hypothermia and the chemicals.

It had been a mixture of vindictive, vengeful glee and deep exhaustion as he carefully monitored the cremation process of all of the bodies.

It was over. It was fucking over. His syndicate would be in pieces that Jason would euphorically grind his heel into.

Now all that remained of the infamous, homicidal Joker was a plastic bag of grey ashes.

Jason wasn't sure what he was going to do with it now. Maybe he could flush it down his toilet. It'd clog, but he wouldn't give two shits.

Maybe he could even sent it to Bruce. The thought brought a huff from his lips as he blew out the smoke from his cig, eyes examining the picture from the file.

Cheryl had referred to this Danny as 'pretty boy' on many occasions, and Jason was inclined to agree. A mischievous, almost boyish face of a 22-year-old. The famed Red Hood Janitor, jack-of-trades.

The killer of the most prominent killer of all time.

He couldn't summon as much jealousy of it should have been me, twisting the knife in his gut rather than the feeling of relief. Red Hood had struggled even getting close, whether it was his obscene amount of gang members or it was fucking Batman or one of his little soldiers preventing him from putting a bullet in his head.

No, it wasn't as much anger but interest that he twisted around in is mind, thumb hovering over the face of Danny Fenton.

He'd like to meet this man. Jason was sure that it would be a conversation he wouldn't want to miss.

"So..." Dnany began that had Cherly looking up with eyebrows raised that said 'yes, go on'. He grimaced, and just blurts it out, "Am I fired?"

So much for that.

Cheryl nearly chokes. "What?"

"I mean..." He made some vague gestures. "I still killed someone."

"Danny, I told you. It's the Joker. Nobody cares. In fact, I wouldn't be surprise if you're getting a promotion after this."

"what?!?"

...

Cheryl has to be lying, because Danny is currently panicking when earlier, he was doing his usual duties (and cleaning some blood cuz he can't let his colleagues get implicated from some crime) till Red Hood just walked into the room and said:

"You. Come with me." He said, making it clear he's talking to Danny, before walking out of the room.

Fuck, I'm going to die, Danny internally wept as he sent pleading glances to Cheryl's way who just cheerfully waved at him. Bastard.

And when Red Hood leads him to his office, a very suspiciously clean office that even Danny had no access to.

He started sweating when Hood just closes the door behind him and ...locks it. That it really feels like a horror movie now.

All Danny could think of: Oh god. This is where I'm getting executed. Crap. how pissed is the big guy going to get if he realizes that I can't die from bullets? as his mind continued to spiral in panic.

Even worse when Hood starts to sit down and open a drawer to pull out...

FUCK HE'S GONNA PUT A BULLET IN MY HEAD! Danny internally screamed.

...and it was a pile of documents.

Danny blinks. Stares. And then looks at Red Hood, and say dumbly, "...huh?"

*connecting ping*

Jason, over the roar of a motorcycle engine: y'ello. just you tonight?

Dick: heyyy, littlewing! yeah, i'm just keeping an eye on some stuff, it's kinda quiet tonight. whatcha' up to?

Jason: actually i'm on my way back from an out-of-town mission and i'm passing Blud. figured i'd swing by rather than go all the way to Gotham tonight, if you aren't busy.

Dick: sounds good to me. wanna meet up and finish my patrol with me? was gonna get pizza on my way back home.

Jason: i'm down, where should i go?

Dick: uhh, 'bouta come up to Stark Ave, if you wanna cross lines there?

Jason: got it.

Dick: did you hear the latest bullshit going down over at the manor?

Jason, dry: 'latest bullshit' could be anything from some shit Damian did two weeks ago to something Tim did this morning; you gotta be more specific.

Dick: i was over there a few days ago and got the gossip from Alfred. *amused* B's mad at Damian because he thinks Damian's a bully at school.

Jason: oh yeah, i was there when that started. he's still on that?

Dick: you knew and didn't tell me?!

Jason: sorry. it's bullshit anyway, i just figured B would forget before we even got back to the cave. they're still going on about it?

Dick: they were arguing for hours. did Damian even do anything?

Jason, instantly: oh, yeah. he did that shit. 100% guilty.

Dick, in disbelief: what?! are you telling me my baby brother is a bully?! Jason, you were supposed to raise him better than that!

Jason: no- *wheeze* no, you're misunderstanding me. yeah, he's beaten a couple people up and made some kids cry, but he isn't a bully.

*a beat*

Jason: not intentionally, anyway. *engine cuts out* i'm here by the way.

Dick: what the fuck?

Jason, defensive: well- you know how Damian is!

Dick: less and less as the days go by... i'm above you, look up.

Jason: *chuckle* alright, alright that's fair. but you know how like, quick-witted he is? he's got the silver tongue of a fucking snake, it's annoying how good he is at insulting people.

Dick: oh yeah. i've been saying since he showed up in Gotham that we need to get that little guy into a debate team. he'd sweep.

Jason: exactly! but the problem is he also doesn't have any kind of regulation about appropriate levels of harshness in response to other peoples' insults, right? like... if somebody comes at you with a level one insult, then the correct response is a matching level one rebuttal or a level two if you want to shut them down. level three if they're an ass--but you get me, right? there's rules.

Dick, snorting: ok, yeah, i get it. Damian does not play by those rules ever.

Jason: exactly! this fucker's going around like it's a constant free-for-all!

Dick: -one time i told him he looked kind of like a chipmunk when he scrunches his nose and gets all annoyed. he looks me straight in the eyes and without missing a beat tells me, 'and you look like an echo of the man Mary and John Grayson wanted you to be. i bet you fall asleep at night thinking about how disappointed they would be if they could see the mess you've grown up to become.'

Jason: *loud wheeze*

Dick: -aND I WAS LIKE DAMN KID? FRIENDLY FIRE?!

Jason: SO YOU- *cackle* SO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN-?!

Dick: yeah, but i thought it was just a family thing! are you telling me that he's pulling that shit with innocent school children?!

Jason: *still cackling* no you- *choke* you gotta- you gotta give Day a break, man. he- *wheeze* he doesn't mean to,

Dick, starting to laugh incredulously: how is he not meaning to-?!

Jason: well he's- *laugh* he's not the one starting it, you know? like- these kids aren't completely innocent. the issue is, kids try to pick on Damian with their lame-ass level two insults, and- *wheeze* Damian keeps turning around to smack them across the faces with instant level ten shit-,

Dick: *wheezing* Damian no,

Jason: -and then these other kids start crying and snitch on Damian to their teachers, and when the teacher is told what happens it's shit like 'i told Damian he was a rich bitch and he told me i deserved my uncle's cancer diagnosis',

Dick: *losing his shit*

Jason, struggling to keep composure: e- *breathless wheeze* exactly! so obviously, it comes off that Day's a bully when in reality he's just an idiot who doesn't understand the concept of pulling your verbal punches when shutting down people stupider than you.

Dick: *delirious* god, this kid-! you gotta feel bad for the other students, right? those poor guys, having to grow up alongside Damian Al Ghul.

Jason: they'll fuckin'- they'll learn quick, that's for sure. you know it's not just verbal, right? i picked him up from school once and as he came down the steps towards my car some kid tried to trip him up; he turned with the speed of a fucking horror movie villain, grabbed the kid by the head and smashed him against the wall. then kept on to my car like nothing had happened.

Dick: oh my god. what did you do?

Jason: *snort* fuck'm'i suposed to do? i checked the kid was still alive and then bought Damian an ice cream.

Dick: OK- well no fucking wonder he's like this; with you raising him!

Jason, defensive: sue me for wanting the kid to not be afraid to stick up for himself! i don't want my kid being bullied by some twats in a Gotham private school.

Dick: aw, don't want him to go through the hell you did?

Jason, confused: what hell? i wasn't bullied.

Dick: ...wait. you weren't?

Jason: no?! were you?

Dick: WHY WEREN'T YOU BULLIED?

Jason, in awe: holy shit you were bullied weren't you?

Dick: WHAT THE FUCK.

Jason: *loud cackling* oh my god, you got bullied?!

Dick: *sputtering* i- ok well- i- fucking- a little bit, but to be fair i didn't know until years later that it was bullying so it barely counts!

Jason: how the fuck do you not know if you're being bullied or not?

Dick, indignant: well! i was very in my own head when i was in school! i didn't realise they were mocking me. they would just- *slight wheeze* they would just yell shit like 'hey circus boy, do a trick for us!' and my delusional-ass would just be like 'cool! gymnastics at school!' and i'd do one. i didn't really clock that-

Jason: *loud wheeze* that they were just-

Dick: -yeah they basically just made me into their circus pet in an attempt to belittle me, and i just liked doing the circus stuff so much that i didn't realise it was supposed to be belittling.

Jason: *laughing loudly* god- you make me so happy.

Dick, annoyed: i can't believe you weren't bullied. this is such bullshit, you were literally a weird street kid dropped into the most expensive school in the city. nobody gave you a hard time?

Jason: no? i- i mean- i'm sure they would have, had i given them the chance? but i didn't speak to anybody. i don't actually think anybody knew i attended that school. like- nobody from any of my classes went to my public funeral, right?

Dick, pointedly: how would i know? i wasn't there.

Jason: *wheeze*

Dick, snickering: no i- i did check the logs after i came back and found out; come to think of it, i don't think anybody from your school showed up.

Jason: see, exactly. i was in and out of that place like the wind. didn't speak to nobody, sat in the back of every class, did my work perfectly to avoid speaking to my teachers--i used to climb over the fence and eat lunch in that etsy witch's store a couple streets over to avoid social interaction. Stella knew more about me than anyone at Gotham Academy; i was invisible.

Dick, dubious: you used to eat lunch with an etsy witch?

Jason: yeah. paid her one time to cast some kind of spell on me that would make nobody in class want to talk to me. i was dedicated to this shit.

Dick: ok, so what you're saying is you would have been bullied in high school, but you got away without being bullied because you just didn't have any friends.

Jason: yeah. it was less that people weren't interested in making my life hard, and more just... people didn't think i was interesting point blank.

*a beat*

Dick: that does make me feel a lot better about me being bullied.

Jason: *wheeze* shut up, dickhead.

*three seconds of silence*

Jason: 'kids in Tim's school used to call him Young Sheldon.

Dick in tears: About two days. We were so worried-

Bruce: Where's Tim?

Jason: It's alright Bruce. You both made it out fine. He wasn't hurt at all.

Bruce: No. Where is Tim!? Where is he?!

Damian: Father calm down. Drake is-

Bruce: You don't understand! You all let Tim out of your sight! On the most dangerous night of the year!

Dick: What?

Bruce: If I was out for two days then tonight the stars align. Tim is going to summon the Ghost King!

Jason: Why would he summon one of the most dangerous and evil being in the multiverse B?

Bruce: Because he's crazy! The only thing keeping Tim's mental state together was his obsession with Batman! But his obsession with the Ghost King is much greater! We have to find him!

Dick: B, please calm down. You were out for two days. Let us worry about Tim.

Damian: I found Drake. He's in the backyard.

Dick: See? Everything is fine. Tim isnt summoning anything.

Damian: Richard, stop spreading falsehoods. Look at the surveillance.

Tim in the backyard:

Bruce leaping out bed: We have to stop him! I can not have the Ghost king as a son in law!

Jason: Wait, he's trying to summon the King to date him!?

Batman: ....

Green Lantern: What? Why? No offense, Batman, but he's not the social type, especially for something this delicate.

Wonder Woman: We figured it be best if two supernatural beings discuss. To find common ground.

Flash: Ohhhh, that makes sense.

Aquaman: It is a wise tactic.

Green Arrow: *nodding* Two scary otherworldly beings would be best. At the very least Bats wont be intimidated by the Ghost King.

Martian Manhunter: Does this mean we send in Batman alone?

Superman: Thats the plan.

Batman mentally: What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. I'm so fucked. Why are they doing this to me? I don't even have powers!

Batman out loud: I will complete this mission.

(Up to you if folks discover this and react or if it's just Stephen and Tony facepalming in private or whatever else you want!)

Logan's laugh rang loud from the yard, loud enough to catch Stephen's attention from where he was relaxing with a book just inside the door. It was rare that Logan really laughed, so that alone was enough to make him curious.

"Hey, Stephen, c'mere," Logan called a second later, as if he wasn't already interested. "You're gonna love this."

Oh, so it was something about him that had made Logan laugh like that. Immediately, Stephen knew what it was likely about. He stood, taking a moment to stretch languidly before taking the few short steps up the stairs and through the doorway.

"What is it this time?" he asked, making little effort to hide the grin already playing on his lips. Logan was standing with the Captains- Steve and Carol, both of whom looked quite confused.

Logan gave him a delighted grin that someone else might misconstrue as a grimace. Stephen had always understood Logan better than most people seemed to, and they'd been friends for much longer than anyone here seemed to realize. Except for Tony, of course.

"Our dear captains here are worried that you and Stark can't keep it professional working in such close quarters," Logan's voice was dripping with amusement, and it apparently attracted half the damn abbey- Nico and Wanda appeared at the other door, and Blade and Peter had blatantly stopped sparring in the training arena.

Of course it was going to happen this way, and Tony wasn't even here to witness it. He was going to be so disappointed that the jig was up and he'd missed it.

"Is that so?" Stephen asked, playing along and doing a much better job of keeping his tone even, this time. It would be much funnier that way.

"Yeah." Logan snorted. "They think you're too hostile to one another to get along."

And there it was. Stephen opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of a portal opening and the Hunter, Magik, and Tony walked through. Perfect timing.

"Why is everyone gathered out here?" The Hunter called as the three of them approached the loosely-collected group.

"Steve just said something really funny, is all," Logan responded, clearly enjoying the audience for once. Steve and Carol still looked confused, and having been called out the others drifted closer as the trio approached.

Stephen caught Tony's eye over the crowd and gave him a cheeky grin. Tony immediately grinned back, understanding written on his face.

"This, I have to hear," Tony said, fixing Steve with an anticipatory grin. The armor receded to reveal his jeans and olive green tanktop beneath. It certainly had the lowest neckline of any of the outfits Tony had brought to the Abbey, and just barely obscured what hung on the end of the chain around his neck.

"Apparently, you and I have been unprofessionally cruel to one another," Stephen allowed his grin to stay, now. "Some of our friends are worried that we're incapable of working together."

"Is that so?" Tony asked, and Stephen chuckled.

"Seems to be."

"What's so funny about that? You two fight, like, all the time," Nico interjected. Wanda put a hand on her arm.

"That's just banter." Tony said casually, but he was practically radiating joy.

"Yesterday, you told Stephen that if he said one more word about magic infusing nanites you were going to kill him," Carol pointed out. "The day before that, you argued for five hours about the layout of the forge."

"All in good fun, I assure you," Stephen interjected. "That is actually our professional behavior."

"If that's professional, then what's your unprofessional behavior?" Logan joked, offering them the perfect setup.

Tony's grin turned into more of a smirk, and he sauntered across the loosely formed circle. Stephen stepped forward to meet him, and without word or warning Tony pulled him into a kiss as passionate as it was familiar. He actually tugged Stephen into a dip, right there in front of everyone. Stephen grinned into the kiss as several people gasped and Logan laughed again, joined this time by Wanda- the only other person among the assembled who knew, apparently.

Tony pulled him back up and held him close when he pulled away.

"How's that for unprofessional?" Stephen asked, grinning at Tony rather than the crowd.

"HR is gonna have a field day," Tony joked.

"So, you guys are together?" Carol asked, sounding shocked.

"We're more than together. We're married."

"Since when?" Peter asked, sounding nearly as delighted as Logan.

"Is it not tradition to wear rings in matrimony anymore?" The Hunter asked.

Stephen reached up and hooked a trembling finger through the chain around Tony's neck, pulling it up to reveal the ring that hung there. "We wear them. Just not on our hands."

"We got married when we were around your age, almost forty years ago," Tony answered Peter, twisting to look at the kid without moving his arms from where they looped around Stephen's hips.

"Thirty-eight years, to be precise." Stephen added, letting Tony's ring drop to rest against his chest once more.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Steve asked, sounding baffled.

"We didn't not tell anyone. Logan knew; he was at the wedding. And Wanda knew because she asked. Nobody else did."

"We tried our best to keep our romantic lives separate from our work lives," Tony added. "Easier to keep it hidden from the paparazzi that way."

"I cannot believe that you've been married for forty years and your idea of professional behavior is saying you want to kill each other," Peter said with a laugh.

"What can I say? This is what true love looks like," Tony quipped.

Stephen grinned and pulled him into another, shorter kiss. They had always known it was going to come out eventually, but this was certainly the most fun way it could've gone. And now they could cut the PG act and make out in the Forge without starting a scandal.

Jazz: I-

Danny: Don't do it, Jazz! He's a liar. A pretty lair, but a lair nonetheless!

Jazz: You can tell his pretty? With everything covering his face?

Danny: He gives the vibe of a man who has gone through life flying on pretty privilege.

Jazz studying Batman: Yeah, I see what you mean.

Batman: ....Do you want to be rescued or not?

Danny: Not!

Batman: I apologize, I made that sound like you had a choice. I'm saving your lives.

Danny: The the HELL you are!

Jazz: Actually, I would like to get out of the cage the weird clown threw us in.

Danny through clentch teeth: Fine. Save us. But only because Jazz vouched for you.

Batman: Why are you so angry child?

Jazz: He doesn't trust pretty people. They bullied him through middle school and high school.

Red Robin: Wow, he must not trust himself then. After all, he's the prettiest boy I've ever seen~♡

Danny: *Barks and growls at him*

Jazz: Danny!

Danny: That one reeks of pretty privilege. He can not be trusted.

Red Robin: Jokes on you, I'm into this.

me, an elder fandom veteran, suddenly having anne rice flashbacks:

no.

NO.

starting to rock back and fourth.

you do not understand.

you were born into an age of peace. i was there Gandalf. i was there three thousand years ago. i remember the cease and desists. i remember authors hunting fanfic writers for sport. i remember when every fic opened with a disclaimer because we genuinely thought it might protect us.

we do not charge money for the copyrighted gay wizard stories.

do not tempt fate youngling.

step away from the paywall.

that is how you summon the ancient evils.

Danny: I beg your pardon?

Tim: I know you feed on emotions. You're an ecto-being, known as Phantom, and you're hiding in Gotham from the government. Your real name is Daniel Fenton.

Danny defeated: Who are you working for? How did they find me?

Tim: Don't worry about that. I'm the only one who knows. Listen, I need your emotional eating abilities. Robin died a few weeks ago, and Batman is losing it. Could you eat his sorrow? Help cut through his fog of grief?

Danny: I- ugh I never tried that?

Tim: Well, now is a good chance to try. Pack your bags, you're moving into Drake Manor as my uncle, and we're going to save Batman.

Danny: Okay?

Tim: You seemed confused. Do I need to explain the plan again?

Danny: I'm not confused. I didn't expect this when I opened the door to a seven-year-old.

Tim: I'm thirteen.

Danny: I'm so sorry. Are you not being feed?

Tim: Everyone blooms at their own time!

Danny: Sure, buddy.

Tim: You-! You will actually do really well at posing as an annoying uncle. You're on thin ice, though. So watch it.

Danny: I'll take that threat more seriously when you can reach my chin.

{Aka, Danny on vacation causes some (a lot of) panic.}

{Inspired by Leviathan Danny and Eldritch Danny fics, though it'll probably go off its own way in the future if I decide to keep posting my writing. But for right now, this is just build up. Maybe in the future I'll post more of my wips or oneshots. There wont be any beta reading for this so it might be all over the place.}

{Likely wont be any real dialogue since I don't think I'd give them any justice}

After the incident, the Fenton household became all too much sometimes. Having to constantly pretend that, no, he wasn't a dead preteen, and no, his parents' negligence didn't kill him. He needed a place to go to just escape from the stress. The fear. Even if he insisted that he wasn't scared of his parents, there was that fear in the back of his head of if he was caught or if his parents ended up not taking him being half dead well.

Danny didn't know where he'd go in the beginning, following wherever his core took him. He followed it as if he already knew where he was going cause his core was confident in its own instincts.