The Belfry hummed with its usual late-night symphony — the low whir of the computers, the faint static of comms cooling down, and the occasional clatter of gear being set aside. The air still smelled faintly of rain and city grime. Gotham had been restless tonight. Nightwing was the first to break the silence, pulling off his domino mask and tossing it onto the table. “Okay,” he said, stretching until his shoulders popped, “next time I say, ‘Let’s split up, it’ll be faster,’ someone just knock me out and carry me home.”
“Gladly,” Red Hood grunted, dropping onto the couch like a felled tree. He peeled off his helmet and let it thud onto the cushion beside him. “You owe me a new magazine, by the way. You jammed my cover fire when you decided to play acrobat over my head.”
“That’s what we call teamwork, Jason,” Dick said, smirking as he grabbed a bottle of water from the table.
Tim, hunched over his laptop at the workbench, didn’t even look up. “You two argue like an old married couple.”
“That’s rich,” Jason shot back. “Coming from the guy who’s been married to that laptop for, what, three hours now?”
Tim’s fingers didn’t slow on the keyboard. “It’s called data consolidation. Some of us care about evidence.”
From the training mat in the corner, Barbara chuckled quietly, stretching out her shoulders. “Play nice, boys. The city’s still standing — mostly — so I’d say that’s a win.”
Dick leaned against the table, looking over at her. “You see the way he tried to run after you dropped that EMP on his bike? Classic.”
“Classic panic,” she corrected, a small grin tugging at her lips. “Guess even mob bosses don’t read the manual on anti-tech grenades.”
Jason groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You guys have way too much fun with this.”
“Some of us don’t need to compensate for emotional damage with big guns,” Tim murmured.
Jason threw a crumpled protein bar wrapper in his direction. “Watch it, smartass.”
For a while, the room settled into a companionable quiet. The city lights blinked through the Belfry windows — Gotham’s heartbeat, constant and chaotic. Tim’s typing slowed. Dick leaned back, eyes half-lidded but alert. Barbara was already scrolling through mission logs, the faint blue glow lighting her features.
Dick’s voice cut through the stillness, softer this time. “You ever think Bruce would be… proud of this? The way we’ve been handling things?”
Barbara’s gaze flicked up. For a moment, none of them spoke. Finally, she said, “He’d have notes. Lots of them.” Her expression softened. “But yeah. I think he’d be proud.”
Jason muttered something that sounded suspiciously like agreement. Tim pretended not to notice.
Dick smiled faintly, letting the warmth of the moment linger before he broke it with his usual charm. “Alright, I call first shower. Whoever goes after me gets the cold water.”
“Too late,” Barbara said, already rolling away toward the washroom in her chair with a smirk. “Try to keep up, Boy Wonder.”
Jason chuckled under his breath. “She’s the only one here who actually scares me.”
Tim finally looked up from his screen. “You’re just figuring that out now?”
The laughter that followed was quiet but real — the kind that only came after a night of surviving Gotham together.
Outside, the rain started again, tapping gently against the windows. Inside, for just a few hours, the Belfry felt like home.