Nesting

It’s always really obvious when Dick is letting Jason stay at his apartment. Dick can’t stand wearing socks and always peels them off when he gets to his apartment. Jason can’t stand Dick’s socks and always picks them off the floor and puts them in the laundry basket. In the winter, Tim’s presence can be detected by his coat on a peg by the door: in summer, it cannot. When Steph is there, winter or summer, the first thing she always does is throw open the living room window declaring that “this place smells like boys!”

Right now she’s in the middle of the room, cross legged, shoulders twitching occasionally. It’s hard for Steph to translate the idea of movement into near stillness.

“Why is Steph still on the X-Box?” asks Dick, wandering in and joining Jason on the couch.

“Because I traded my turn to her for monitor duties,” says Jason.

“God, I hate transcribing,” says Dick feelingly.

Steph doesn’t look away from the screen. “Shut the fuck up, assholes, if you make me lose to these spinny guys again I am seriously kicking all of your asses.”

“God she’s hot when she’s angry,” says Jason.

“Wait, monitor duty?” asks Dick, brow furrowing. “I thought I traded Tim monitor duty for the Petrekov surveillance?”

“You did,” agrees Jason easily, “and then I traded Tim the supper you traded me for dishes.”

“Shut up!” says Steph.

Dick’s lips move as he tries to retrace the path of the dishes… “So instead of doing dishes, you’re… not playing Onimusha?”

“Yep!” says Jason easily, and stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankles.

Dick leans back, and then starts upright. “No, hold on. Tim’s making supper? Our supper? Right now?”

“Hey. He’s getting a lot better. He wanted supper because he’s been reading up on cooking.”

Dick tries to jump to his feet but Jason pulls him back down, half on top of him. “Not– ack. My kitchen, you don’t–” Dick pins Jason, who rolls them both onto the floor and lands on top, and maintains that advantage briefly.

“Argh, pig fucker!” says Jason.

“Mind your language ngh- ‘round the kids.”

“Shut the hell up!” yells Steph.

Dick manages to gain the upper hand. “Learn to respect your -ow! elders.”

Jason tries to buck him off, then subsides. “C’mon, what’s the worst that can happen? We order pizza. And if he makes something edible, it’d be really cool for him.”

Dick leans back and blows his hair out of his face. “Yeah, okay.”

“I can hear you playing cowboy behind me,” says Steph. “That’s totally gross.” She doesn’t look away from her game.

“Dick?” says Tim, coming into the living room looking anxious. “You don’t have any Aamchur powder. Do you think I can use orange zest instead?”

“S’okay,” mutters Jason. “I have Pellegrino’s on speed dial.”

“Um,” says Dick. “Try it?”