Battleship

Series note: This is the seventh act of the Red Bird, Blue Bird series. Each story can be read alone, but contains references to the other parts in this series. This occurs shortly after Unfortunate Ultimatum and the next in the series is Bulletproof. Thank you and enjoy!

"D6."

"Miss."

"Dammit," Jason swore as he placed yet another white peg onto his board. Four turns in and he was already losing. If he didn't win this one, it would be three games in a row. He couldn't give his brother the satisfaction.

Just a few hours ago, Jason had been sulking alone in his apartment, trying not to think about the fact that he wouldn't be going on patrol that night. He had been put out of commission for the next three weeks because of the leg he'd broken during the charity-event-turned-Bat-vs-Baddie-showdown two weeks ago. Wallowing in his misfortune and looking for something to scratch an itch inside the cast on his calve; he was genuinely surprised when Dick had shown up, barging in with only a quick shave-and-a-haircut knock, this game in hand, and talked Jason into playing with him. How? He had no freaking idea. Manipulating the will of those around him, probably; his brother was good at that, very persuasive.

"Hotel 8." And very lucky.

"Hit," Jason growled. That was Dick's third hit, having only missed once, and each on a different one of Jason's ships. "C2."

"Miss," Dick informed him brightly, marking Jason's moves on his ship board. It was a habit found in all of the members of the Bat family; they cataloged their opponents' moves as well as their own. "Delta 4?"

"Dammit," he bit out again, and Dick took it accordingly marking his search board with another red peg.

Jason grew more frustrated as the game went on. How could his brother be so good at a stupid board game? Jason took a few deep breaths calming himself down. He wasn't very fond of losing games. Or, anything, really.

"Echo 5."

"Miss." And boy did he enjoy saying that, especially as Dick had abandoned yet another hit vessel to search for more. Jason hated when he did that. It was like he was doing it just to mess with him. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Dick asked, looking up after placing his peg.

"Hit and run."

Dick's lips quirked up at that. "I don't know. I just like knowing I've found all the ships before I waste time finishing each one off."

"It's like you're wounding them and letting them sit in their misery while you hunt down the rest," Jason groused, glancing down at his board. "Besides, how do you know F4 and D4 aren't two different ships and not one?"

A mischievous glint sparkled in his brother's eyes as he – far too innocently – asked, "Are they two and not one?"

Jason fell silent, glaring at his trickster of an older brother. "I hate you, you are a dick!"

Dick shrugged, "It's your move, little brother." A smirk shot across his face.

"H8."

"Miss."

"Fuck! Ugh!" Jason wanted so bad to just throw the board out the effing window.

"Remember when Bruce would teach us chess as part of our training?" Dick asked, after missing again.

"Yeah, I hated it. Why?" Jason raised an eyebrow, looking across the board to his brother.

"All that stuff about patience, concentration, strategy. . . I tried it with Damian when I was training him." He trailed off.

"Yeah? How'd Demon Brat do?"

"Oh, he won almost every game." Dick replied lightly, smiling. "Told me I'm 'not brutal enough' to take the king by force. I did win one eventually, though."

"I'd say he took pity on you and let you win, but I don't think the kid is capable of pity," Jason shot back with a smirk, before adding, "You have to admit though, you can be too nice sometimes."

"If I wasn't, no one in this family would know what to do. Besides, I have my dark side, too," Dick said offhandedly. "Your turn, Jayjay."

"D8."

"That is a hit," his brother said with a smile. "Good, you finally got one."

"It's about damn time!" Jason exclaimed, placing his first red peg on his upper board.

"Echo 4?"

"You're just doing this to torture me, aren't you? Hit."

"Not necessarily."

"I think that's bullshit." Jason sighed and slumped into the couch after putting another peg on one of his ships. "Why don't you just sink my ships so we can get this game done and over with?"

"I'm trying to give you a chance to find my ships, little brother."

"Rubbing it in is more like it," he grumbled.

The game continued for a few minutes, Jason sinking Dick's cruiser after a single miss-start, and Dick pinging around for Jason's last unfound ship, still not sinking any of the four already found.

"Come on, little brother, you can do this. Just concentrate." Dick's famous smile was spread across his face.

"Shut up, Dick. H5."

"Hotel 5 is a miss."

"Fuck! Are you cheating?" Jason spat out with no small amount of frustration.

"Nope. Fair and square. Come on, you have two of my ships surrounded. Just keep trying."

"Ugh. . . F2."

"Miss."

Jason growled, "I hate this game."

"Don't give up. Jay, you completely avoided my hint about having two of my ships surrounded. Now you have another one mostly surrounded too. Gulf 3."

Jason grew steadily more annoyed as he continued to miss, but was reassured by the fact that Dick had yet to find his cruiser.

"Charlie 1?" Until, that is, he did hit it.

"Fuck this!" Jason grabbed the board and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a crash, sending ships and pegs scattering across the floor.

"What did the board do to you?" Dick questioned softly.

"I hate losing! You know that, Dick!"

"It's not always about winning and losing."

A tense moment of silence passed, one in which Jason would have paced across the room if his stupid leg wasn't in a stupid cast making him stuck sprawled on his stupid couch. "It isn't just about the game."

"I know," Dick assured quietly.

"Those bastards took me by surprise, knocked me flat on my ass, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it." Jason ranted. "And Alialee, and she…"

"Ra's took us all by surprise. Bruce keeps saying he should have seen it coming, but Ra's was acting completely out of character."

"His plan was sloppy, at best," Jason agreed sullenly.

"Doomed to failure at most. We'll all be keeping an eye out for him. But Jaybird, we didn't lose. Not really."

"Easy for you to say," Jason argued, flicking a hand at his plaster covered leg. "I just hate that I am stuck here – in a fucking cast, I might add – while Ra's and him and the rest of the Arkham rejects are out there doing God only knows what."

"We'll find him, all of them. Just be patient."

"I've been trying to be patient; it's starting to wear thin." Jason scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to find the words. "I just can't shake the feeling that something bad's about to happen. Big and bad."

"I feel the same, Jay. We all do." Dick said nothing more as he waited for Jason to calm himself. When he had, Dick asked the one thing Jason couldn't deny nor resist. "You hungry? I can order pizza."

Blowing out a quiet puff of air, the last of his anger dissipated. "Yeah, I could eat."

"Pepperoni?"

He nodded and Dick went into the kitchen to make the call.

Jason eyed the scattered Battleship game pieces, trying to keep from more gloomy thoughts. Dick returned minutes later, a Pepsi and Dr. Pepper in one hand, a bowl of chips in the other.

"Well, the pizza is ordered, two pepperoni." Dick set down the sodas and the bowl of chips. Jason grabbed his Dr. Pepper and looked into the bowl of chips. It consisted of a combination of Fritos, Taco flavored Doritos, crunchy Cheetos, and Sour Cream and Onion Lays, all tossed up together in one bowl.

"You come up with the weirdest mixes of chips." Jason chuckled softly.

"It's a gift," was shot back with a smile.

Jason grabbed the T.V remote while Dick crouched on the floor and started gathering up the game pieces.

"Left a nice dent in your wall," Dick informed.

"Wonderful," Jason said, sarcasm in his voice.

Once Dick had all the pieces picked up and put back on the board, he walked over and plopped down on the couch. He placed the board on the coffee table, then watched as Jason scanned through the channels on the T.V.

After skipping past three reality shows and two different cooking shows, the T.V screen flashed a news report before skipping to a toilet paper commercial. "Wait," Dick spoke up. "Go back to the news."

Complying, Jason changed it back to the news station, turning the volume up.

". . . riot at Blackgate. We are getting reports that there was at least one prisoner who escaped during the chaos." The camera panned out and a rather familiar face sneered at them from the mug shot that filled the screen. "Arnold 'Lenny' Smith, age 25, arrested for two counts of attempted murder, as well as other charges. Smith was denied bail last month as he awaited his trial. Prison personnel are as of yet unsure how exactly Smith escaped, but . . ."

"Oh great, now we have that idiot to deal with again," grumbled Jason, drowning out the newscaster's voice.

"He just can't get enough of me," Dick said trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, and who's going to be there to save your ass this time? We both know I can't." Jason said, sitting up on the couch.

Dick opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a knock at the door. "Pizza's here!" Dick practically shouted as he jumped up and went to the door, money in hand.

A moment later, Dick was setting the boxes on the coffee table beside the board game, digging into the pizza.

They chatted some as they devoured their food, turning the T.V onto the second half of a Knights game, just enjoying each other's company for a while. Peace was a rare but treasured thing in their line of work.

"Hey, Jay, how's Alialee doing since the incident?" Dick asked with a mouth full of pizza.

"She's okay. I guess. She keeps asking me all these questions. I dunno if I should tell her about Red Hood. . . I can't ask Bruce what to do. Every girl he ends up liking knows he's Batman. So, I dunno what to do."

"You haven't really known her that long. What, about a month now? Not saying she isn't trustworthy, just . . . give it time. Wait and see what happens; when the time is right, then you can drop the V-bomb on her. Bruce would tell you not to tell her, but despite his active love life, he's still Mr. Grr-Secret-Identity-Grr."

"What do I tell her in the meantime, though? That's my problem. She's a journalist, she knows how to investigate shit and find things out. So, what do I tell her then?"

Heartily clapping his brother's shoulder, Dick helpfully said, "Lie through your teeth. She'll call you a jack ass when you actually do tell her the truth, but she'll think you're an ass anyway for not answering any of her questions, even with lies."

"Gee, thanks oh wise one," Jason snarked grumpily.

"Sorry, lil bro, most of the girls I've ever had a serious relationship with are fellow capes, so I don't have this problem all that often."

"You're so much help, Dick. Really," Jason said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dick shrugged, rubbing his hands together to brush off the pizza crumbs. "Another game of Battleship before I go on patrol?"

"After your beautiful advice? Hell no," Jason deadpanned.

"Aw, come on, Jayjay. Just one more game? Please? With Len-len joining the other out-and-abouts, I've got a busy night ahead of me. One more? Pleeeease?"

Jason would never understand how a twenty-seven-year-old man could so thoroughly pull off the 'puppy-dog look' but Dick Grayson managed it in spades.

"Ugh! Okay, fine. Just stop with that damn kicked puppy routine!" Jason huffed in frustration.

A grin instantly sprang to the older man's face and he eagerly grabbed the game, appropriately taking the blue side again, leaving the red for Jason as he had earlier. "See," began Dick as Jason rolled his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm. "Battleship isn't just about strategy; it's about knowing your opponent."

"Whatever you say, Sun Tzu."

"No, really. Timmy searches in a strict grid pattern, effective but not very efficient. He always starts on the edges. It's because of him that I almost never have any of my ships on the outer edges. Dami likes to put his ships in clusters, which can get confusing – good technique – and he searches the 5 and E lines for the carriers, the five peg ones, first off. Thanks to him I now avoid placing on the middle rows as much as possible."

"Okay, and how do you look at the way I do it?"

Dick thought about it for a moment before answering. "Your search is scattered, but not without logic. Hard to avoid what you can't figure out, after all. Same goes for your placing; scattered but logical."

Jason nodded, "What's yours? Why can you find me so easily?" His interest was piqued, seeing how Dick saw things about people, even in something as simple as a strategy game. He was honestly curious to hear more.

"When searching, I tend to start with a relaxed grid search. You know, like, B2, B8, H2, H8. Then I start filling in the middle. I change it up every once in a while, sometimes I just like making shapes with the pegs: zig-zags, targets, squares and circles. I'm kind of hard to keep track of." Dick chuckled, before smiling gently as he continued. "As for my placement, well. . ."

Jason waved his hand in a circular motion, trying to get his brother to continue, "Well . . . what?"

He rubbed the back of his head, a sign of embarrassment. "I kind of . . . think of the ships as . . . well, as us. Our family – when Bruce was . . . away, anyways."

Jason's brow furrowed in confusion as he waited for more of an explanation.

"See, the Carrier, the big one, is Batman. The Destroyer, that little two peg one, is Dami. Tim's the Cruiser, Babs is the Submarine, and you're the Battleship."

A flash of surprise passed over Jason, but his brother's reasoning was solid. The pint sized Hell Spawn took great pleasure in breaking things; the Replacement covered the most distance, what with his duties to the Teen Titans; and the Battleship had the most guns. Jason didn't miss the allusion to Oracle being the one distant from all the others. Things must not be going well again between Barbra and Dick. Then, there was the 'Batman' comment.

"I just place them accordingly. In the last game, I had Robin right next to Batman, and . . . and the other three were all going off in different directions. Away from me." He seemed hesitant to admit that last part, and Jason could understand why. All of the Bat Family hated to admit to weakness simply on principle; admitting weakness would be the same as admitting defeat. Of them all, Dick was the most open about his short-comings, but that didn't mean he had to like them all.

Jason knew that the subject of Dick's feelings of inadequacy during his tenure as the Dark Knight wasn't a topic his elder brother liked to discuss, and he felt rather touched that he had brought it up willingly with him now. But it wasn't enough to suppress the little voice in his head telling him to end the chick-flic moment before it went any farther.

He shook his head. "Okay, let's get this game done and over with, so I can get you out of my apartment," he said with a smirk spreading across his face.

"Well, who am I to deny progress?" Dick shot back with his own smirk.

And so the game begun, Jason bolstered by Dick's tips and suggestions. He used to wonder, back when Dick first took on Damian as his Robin, how anyone could manage to teach that hell spawned brat anything, but hearing as Dick easily explained his own methods of thinking, with added hints and simple suggestions and various options – so different than Bruce's "Do this, this way" training method – and knowing that this was how his brother did pretty much everything. . . Jason was beginning to understand how, if anyone, Dick could.

Dick went first, missing his first turn. Jason had a smile on his face as the game continued and he was sinking Dick's ships one after another.

At one point, Dick got up to clean up after their meal. As the older man walked past him towards the kitchen – supposedly without looking at Jason's board – Jason repositioned what of his ships he could in the remaining empty space, just to be sure. The game soon drew to a finish when Jason sunk Dick's last ship.

"It's about fucking time I won a game!" Jason threw his hands up in victory. "I didn't think I had a chance at all!" A grin grew across his face.

"Knew you had it in you, bro," Dick cheered. "'Told you, you could do it."

Jason's smile just got bigger, knowing he beat his big brother. He knew being competitive would pay off at some point.

"Well, I'd better take off," Dick announced, standing up. "I'll come by again sometime around noon."

Jason nodded. "Okay, I'll be here. It's not like I'm going anywhere," he motioned to his leg stuck in the cast.

"'Won't be for long, Jayjay. Keep the faith!" With a playful wink and smile, Dick strode out the door, shutting it firmly behind himself. A few minutes later, Jason heard the rev of his brother's motorcycle as he drove away.

Another minute passed as Jason debated whether to ignore picking up the game in favor of the T.V remote, but Alfred's oft repeated "cleanliness is next to godliness, Young Master Jason, so I suggest you remember to keep tidy so as to save yourself from both His and mine's wrath," popped into his head.

He picked up his side of the board, taking the ships out of the places he had them and putting them away. Turning the board to Dick's side, he was left speechless. He couldn't believe what his older brother had done. All five of his ships sat half buried in the unused red pegs, in the storage compartment. This alone wouldn't have shocked Jason; but looking at his brother's board at the neat rows of red pegs marking Jason's hits all still nestled on the lower board. It meant only one thing; Dick had cheated. But worse than that, Dick cheated to let Jason win.

"Damn it, Dick, you son of a bitch. You let me win . . . at Battleship, at that." He chuckled softly at his older brother's antics and, mentally vowing a rematch, put the rest of the game away.

The end.

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