#mini something

Jason said nothing, fumbling in his pockets.

Dick: "You live here, don't you?" Which gets everyone's attention laser-focused.

Jason just cast him a look, getting the door open.

Steph entered first, smacking into something that falls over. "Jeez." She complained, stumbling backward until Cass steadied her by the shoulders. "Sorry, that's my bad."

Duke turned on the lights in one motion, making everyone blink and wince.

"Get off me." Damian snapped, and Dick carefully let him go, letting him limp angrily into a chair. He frowned, scrutinizing the place. "You live here? Why would anyone--"

"Guys." Dick rubbed his eyes over the mask, cutting off Damian and Jason’s sharp answer. "First aid kit?" Dick asked Jason tiredly.

Jason nodded, moving to get it and heard Damian ask "What?" in response to a patented glare he must be getting.

Tim had made a beeline for the kitchen. "Dude, why do you have a singular set of dishes? And why are there just guns in this cabinet?"

Jason scoffed, handing Dick the kit. "Didn't realize I was running a fucking bed and breakfast."

"There's guns in this cabinet too!" Tim shook his head, opening and closing two more. "Oh good, just large knives in this one."

At Tim's raised eyebrows, Jason went into the kitchen and shooed Cass down the counter she was perched on, grabbing the paper plates he kept in a drawer and shoving them into Tim's chest.

Glancing at the way Steph was rubbing her neck, slouched at the table, Jason grabbed two ice packs, sliding one her way and throwing the other to Damian.

Duke, taking a book off Jason's meticulously organized shelf: "Why do you have seven copies of Pride and Prejudice? Did you keep forgetting you bought it, or--?"

Jason, storming over to put the book back. "Stop."

Dick looked up from the wound he was stitching. "Are they different at at all?"

"Are they in different languages?" Steph asked.

"Did you barter them for food? Because your fridge is fucking empty." Tim reported.

Jason groaned, realizing that they weren't going to drop it. "One has a different introduction and one is the zombies version. And yes, the rest are the same, now could you all stop touching stuff?"

Sam: [bursts in and turns off the music]

Dean: "What the hell Sam?"

Sam, seething: "Call Cas and apologize. Now."

Dean: "I'm not calling Cas--"

Sam: "I'm going to strangle you. Then I'll call Cas to heal you if you don't."

Dean:

Dick inhaled deeply, clicking through evidence the Zodiac Master had left behind. "I'm technically on vacation in France." He reminded Tim. "A double of me is currently using the Wayne funds left and right so I can convince people that Dick Grayson and Nightwing aren't the same person."

"I was thinking more if we ever got de-masked."

Dick made a go on gesture.

Tim's eyes glinted brightly. "The CIA gives out poison pills--"

"You think if you're dead they'll somehow be unable to figure put who you are?" Dick asked sharply, not bothering to make the obvious emotional argument.

"No, but it would prevent the sharing of secrets. What my real suggestion is that we line our domino masks with small capsules of acid, so if anyone tries to forcibly take them off--"

"Or we get punched too hard, or accidentally get stranded without any way to safely melt the glue, we get Two Faced?" Dick scoffed and Tim shrugged, clearly considering that a minor loss.

"No dice, Timmy, and don't you dare even bring it up with B." Dick held up a finger. "He might even start looking into it, you know how impressed he was with Jason's helmet bomb."

"Dick--"

Bruce sighed, waving a hand. "It's not like that. Damian found it himself and he's determined to keep it and he barely even asks for anything. Besides," Bruce added quickly, clearly having found a suitable argument. "It'll teach him responsibility."

Alfred scoffed at the feeble excuse. Livestock would teach Damian responsibility, as though the boy didn't already carry more than he should.

"Does it really have to go?" Bruce asked quietly, twisting the Wayne ring he'd recently started wearing.

Alfred stared out at the thing, grazing down the lawn, not a single care in the world.

Damian stalked closely behind it, clearly enraptured by the simple creature.

Tim, poring through files on the computer, chin resting on a numb, aching hand. "It's acutally elephant in the room."

"No, Tim there's an actual cow in the room."

Tim frowned, the words slow to register before a crash made him turn around fast, just time to see the cow knock down the rest of the bo staffs. "What the fuck?"

"Right?" Dick held out his arms, waving. "Here, boy, come here."

The cow didn't respond at all, continuing to huff and rummage around the sticks on the ground.

"It's not a cat." Tim chided when Dick started hissing instead.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Dick demanded, throwing up his hands.

"How did it--" Tim winced as the cow made one of the mannequins crash down the stairs. "How did it even get here?"

The Cave had been invaded by Lanterns, Superman, but no cows.

The cow tugged its head away, lowing in annoyance when Dick tried reaching for it.

"I'm calling Clark." Dick declared, backing away.

"Good idea, watch out for--" Tim grimaced and Dick swore, trying to kick off the cow dung he'd stepped into. "You need to work on your spatial awareness, Nightwing."