Who: Jace Herondale and Dick Grayson Where: Threshold When: Early September What: A little crime prevention, a little heart-to-heart Rating/Warnings: SFW Status: Complete
Though Jace had managed to fill his days with various activities, including regular training and getting more familiar with this world he'd ended up in, his evenings had often been spent at Threshold. The club scene was a pretty familiar one (the lack of prowling demons notwithstanding), and it was easy enough to have a couple of drinks and either observe from a corner or find someone attractive for a little dancing (or more), depending on his mood. It helped that Alec was friends with the guy who ran the place, and Jace had learned that a little playful flirting often got him a better drink and occasionally a discount. Advantages of being pretty.
Tonight was much like any other, except that he'd been on edge and unable to identify why at first. It took about fifteen minutes of eyes roaming the club and glaring down anyone who looked his way to realize what was bothering him: there was a small cluster of people (presumably they were people) with an edge to their movements who'd been eyeing tonight's dancers. Stalking them. As soon as he noticed it, he couldn't unsee it, and he automatically moved closer as the dancers finished up their last set. Demons or not, he knew predators when he saw them.
After his performance for Sam’s birthday, some of the regular dancers at Threshold had asked him if he wanted to join them. It hadn’t taken more than a minute for him to accept the offer, now he could be found on stage at the club twice a month. Which made a refreshing change from Security. He was comfortable performing to an audience, kind of had to be considering where he’d started life, but something about the crowd tonight felt off.
There was a group near the side of the stage who had been persistent with their catcalls and even reached to try and touch some of his fellow dancers mid routine. Dick knew their costumes were on the tight and revealing side, but that wasn’t a sign of consent or an invitation for harassment. Something these idiots didn’t realise, so as the troupe made their way offstage, he made sure to position himself between the other dancers and them.
"Keep your hands to yourselves unless you want to lose them."
Jace had moved up behind the goons, stalking the stalkers, his muscles tensed for action that, for once, he hoped wouldn't be necessary. The club was too crowded to make fighting preferable, even if he had to admit that he often itched for an opportunity. He was looking for an opening to get himself between them and the dancers when one of the dancers did it for him.
He did a double take.
It was Alec. It wasn't Alec, because he'd have known his parabatai under any normal circumstances, but it looked just like him, and it was almost enough to throw him off his game. He recovered quickly enough, though, because there'd be time later to see why this guy was wearing his best friend's face. The ringleader of the stalkers had taken a step forward, as if he didn't believe not-Alec's threat, but Jace recognized a fighter when he saw one.
Jace clapped a hand on the man's shoulder. "Pretty sure you're about to lose your hands."
The guy took a wild (probably drunken) swing, and then all hell broke loose.
Flashing a brief grin in the direction of tall, blond and handsome, he didn't have time to make a proper introduction before a punch was sloppily thrown in his direction. Dodging the blow, he instead caught a tight hold of the wrist, briefly turning his back on the others to flip the guy up and over his shoulder to crash down onto the stage. He allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction before the others in the gang decided to be idiots too.
Luckily the rest of the dancers had slipped away, Gems making a beeline for security, bless them. He and the could-be model made short work of the other morons, so by the time two of the security team arrived there wasn't much left to be done other than herd the stalkers out of the club. Blowing the hair off his forehead with a little huff, Dick wiped his hand off on his wet look leggings and offered it to the blond.
"Thanks for the assist. Haven't noticed you here before. I'm Dick."
As far as fights went, sloppy drunks weren't even Jace's idea of a good pre-workout stretch, but it at least introduced an element of surprise to the encounter that sparring didn't always bring. With the two of them, it was all over far too quickly, and he wasn't even out of breath when he turned to shake the offered hand. "Jace. I know you by reputation, sort of." It took the name for him to remember Alec mentioning he had a doppleganger. "When my brother said you looked like him, I wasn't imagining he had a twin."
The name was familiar, and Dick's smile brightened as he realized why. "I know you similarly." Giving Gems a wave as they shot him a cheeky thumbs up and wink, he chuckled at the twin comment. "Alec caught my brother off guard too, thought he was me. But it was an understandable mistake, Alec was hitting the heavy bag at the time." Indicating his neck with an absent gesture, he continued, "the lack of runes is probably the most obvious way to tell us apart, but also my eyes are very blue compared to his, if that helps?"
Jace shrugged. "I can tell anyway, though I might have to double take at a distance. Or in a worse fight than this one." He jerked his chin toward the door and the direction the would-be thugs had been dragged. "Normally I'd be all for a little action, but that didn't seem the typical sort. Are they going to be a problem for the dancers?" He hadn't been around long enough to pick up on those sorts of patterns. For all he knew, they were used to dealing with that around here, but he wanted to make sure they were aware to watch themselves when leaving tonight. Dick could obviously take care of himself, but he didn't know about the others.
"Makes sense, I’d know Tim even if he had a twin." Dick smiled, he’d probably know each of his siblings; he’d be a very poor protégé of Batman if he couldn’t. Watching as security ejected the thugs from the building, he shook his head, "I haven’t seen them before. Unfortunately we do get a few creeps every so often, but the dancers haven’t been bothered outside." He frowned, not all the dancers were as handy in a fight as he was and security weren't always as sharp as they could be. "Don't suppose you'll be here at closing to help me make sure it stays that way. I'll buy you a drink, or save you a dance, whichever you prefer."
"I usually am," Jace said, and he was impressed with his own restraint, which kept the bitterness from his voice. He liked the club for its own merits, but lately it had been an escape, too. It was too loud, the drinks were strong, and it was exactly what he needed to keep his mind off of...well, everything. "If you want to make sure they're aware to look out, I can talk to Eliot. Maybe there's some"—he made some vague motions with his hands that might have been spellcasting—"magic thing he can do. Keep the jackasses away. Until then...drink?"
Again, he'd be a pretty bad detective if he couldn't pick up on subtle shifts in tone and demeanor, so when Jace replied, even without bitterness, he could tell that the nighttime habit was one of necessity more often than not. "That would be great actually, I mean, I don't want him to lose custom, but are those the type of patrons he really wants in here?" Giving an expressive shrug, he slipped into place at Jace's side and swept them both toward the bar. "Drink. Maybe El will even mix up a special for us."
"At what point does special become normal?" Jace mused. He wondered if the bartender had noticed him frequenting the place more than before and assumed at least something close to the truth, because "special" drinks had ended up in front of him more often than usual. So far he hadn't proved the nosy sort, though, so he didn't mind the looks he got when it happened to be a slower night. Well, not much. Tonight was far too busy for that, so flying under the radar was easier, and especially since he wasn't technically alone for his drinks now. He slid onto an empty barstool. "So Tim's your brother?" He vaguely remembered seeing the name and face on the network, but he didn't tend to chat much with people he didn't know. "You have a lot of people here from your home?"
"Hmm, you’ve become a regular, huh?" Dick smiled, no sign of judgement on his face. He understood the need to get away from things, and everyone had different coping mechanisms. Hopping up onto the stool beside Jace, he nodded, "Yep, one of many. Well, three and one sister. We’re all adopted and there are a couple of others that are mentored by our Dad too. Honestly, I think he wants a whole football team of kids." Giving a shake of his head, he caught himself before rambling too much. "I know versions of a few people here back home, but Tim and Wally— who just arrived recently, are the only ones actually from my world. You know Simon too, right?"
"You know that moment when the quest for quiet sort of flips around, and you end up somewhere quietly loud?" Jace gestured to the club around them. Maybe that statement didn't make sense, or Dick wouldn't relate, but it was the best way he could describe the need for the sort of mindless distraction that had made him a regular. It wasn't even the alcohol, but good drinks were a bonus he could live with. "All of you?" That caught his interest. He didn't talk about his past with many people, but he didn't think it hurt to share, "I'm adopted, too. By Alec's parents." He gathered it was a little different with Shadowhunters than humans, but the concept had to be similar. "Yeah, and Magnus and Madzie, obviously. They're all from my world, but my past." He took a drink, not sure what had made him add that last bit.
"Definitely, though I used to choose a little dive bar or the top of a tall building where I could hear the entire city." Sipping his drink, he nodded in understanding, knowing exactly what Jace meant. Sometimes after patrol and seeing the worst of society he needed the white noise of life going on around him. "Not all are adopted. Damien is Bruce’s biological son, though B didn’t know about him until his Mom dropped him at the door when he was nine. Myself, Tim, Jason and Cass are adopted." Pausing as Jace explained his own background, he smiled; the two Shadowhunters being brothers and partners was pretty rad, and a similar situation to his own. They had a lot more in common than he’d imagined, a fact which was further evidenced by Jace’s last words. "Yeah, same. I’m way beyond Tim and Wally is from earlier in the timeline too. I’m always trying to watch what I say." He wondered if Jace was dealing in the same way.
Jace had to laugh, not because the past was particularly funny, but because this Damien's story rang as familiar in so many ways. He didn't elaborate, though—only raised his newly-arrived glass and said, "To childhoods in varying degrees of fucked up and fixed up?" He drained half of it in a couple of gulps and replaced it on the bar in front of him, knowing he shouldn't go too crazy with it. "I had to tell Alec a few things, because I knew it would slip if I didn't. The rest I don't really want to talk about, so that helps." He looked sideways at Dick. "Never realized a year could be so long, but it really was."
A tiny little grin crept onto his lips as Jace chuckled at the story, he knew it wasn't the tragic backstory that he was laughing at, probably just the similarity between it and his own. "Ah yes, here's to the FU-FU upbringing." Another sip of his drink followed and he savored the fruity flavor, rather than neck it like his companion had. Which was either brave or stupid if Jace's drink was as potent as his. "Yeah, there are things that I don't want to talk about either. I actually told my family quite a lot about what happened when I got back here. Though only Tim is still here who'd remember it all now." Leaning his elbow on the bar he rested his chin on his hand as he watched Jace for a moment. "A lot of things can happen in twelve months, I'm guessing more in your world, with all the demons and creatures running around."
"Believe it or not, the worst of it had less to do with demons and more to do with people." And angels, but that was inextricably linked to the people in Jace's world. He stared down into his empty glass, still clutched between his hands. The glass was cool against his skin, and he swirled the ice a little. "There was this girl. I loved her. Simon loved her. Alec kind of hated her," he added with another laugh, this one with a bit of humor attached. "She did a lot for all of us, changed a lot...and then she was gone. The others don't know, and I can't tell them. Don't want to tell them. And her absence from stories makes anything else pretty much impossible."
"I can believe that; people really can be the worst." He knew from experience just how horrific people could be, but also how wonderful. Finishing his own drink with a series of little sips, Dick watched as Jace contemplated his glass, getting the impression that there was more to come. He didn't have to wait for long and as his companion started to speak a lot of things fell into place and he nodded in understanding. "Would this be Clary? I can see why you'd rather not talk about a future where someone integral to your group is absent." Setting his empty glass on the bar he lightly touched his fingertips to Jace's forearm, "That's a big secret to burden yourself with though, so if you need to talk about it to someone outside of your group, you can catch me after a show, or anytime, okay?"
Jace's hold on his glass tightened a fraction at the name. Dick had asked about Simon by name, so it was logical the two knew each other—and if anyone else was going to talk about Clary, it was Simon. But it was still something of a shock to the system, when he'd been avoiding saying it himself for so long. The last time had been sometime deep in the time loop that was most of the reason he spent so much time at Threshold these days. "Yeah, sure," he answered automatically. But then his eyes flicked over to that hand on his arm, up to its owner, and he sighed. Talking things out wasn't really his style, but fuck did this eat at him sometimes. So, on a (probably more than a little alcohol-fueled) whim, he added, "Thanks. It's...I guess good to know I'm not the only other former orphan with a complicated history around here." He motioned to Eliot for a refill. "Might just want to dance tonight, though, instead of talk more."
"Hey, no problem, and you’re definitely not alone in that respect. Tim and I can relate. You remind me a lot of my Jason. He wouldn’t be inclined to talk either." Eliot delivered the desired refill, topping up Dick’s glass at the same time, even though he hadn’t asked. The measure was short and bright green, when Dick lifted the glass to his lips he smelled apple and smiled, knocking back the schnapps like a shot. Slipping off the stool, he landed lightly on his toes and extended his hand to Jace, "Then may I have this dance, and however many more we can fit in tonight?"
Only belatedly did Jace realize that he hadn't actually answered the other's question and clarified that Clary was the girl in question. He was grateful that Dick had let it slide along with the rest. He swallowed his refill in a couple of sips. Maybe it wasn't quite as good a distraction as fending off creepy dancer-stalkers, but it was far better than drinking himself into a stupor—which wasn't the norm, but seemed more likely tonight. He put his hand in Dick's and smiled a bit. "Yeah, what the hell."