This is a continuation from the story where Dick first used his fake accent.
Dick came into the cave seething. He had just been working with Wally on homework and the ginger made him do the whole thing! Even after he promised he wouldn't do that! Then he said that Dick's reward, a pack of chocolate only sold in Central City, was out of stock and took off. The nerve of that boy. It was Tim who noticed the small stomp in his step as he murmured something under his breath. "You alright?" he asked, taking a break from typing.
"Not in the least! Wally just made me do everything for his school project! All he did was complain about being hungry the entire time!" Dick ranted. He was so angry he felt like he could scream for a year. He murmured further until he felt eyes burning into his body. Due to the feeling of being watched, he looked up to find his brother staring at him with a ghost of a smile. "What?" Dick asked. Did he say something funny? He didn't think so. Then again it was often he didn't realise he said something amusing. "You used your accent," Tim stated, slowly getting excited. The acrobat raised an eyebrow. "I always use my accent."
"No your real one. You used your real one." Dick blushed lightly and he crossed his arms.
"I did not. You're just hearing things," he said, playing it off.
"I heard it. When you're angry you must subconsciously use it," Tim said thoughtfully. There was a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I did not use it!" Dick whined. "I'm going to the training room," he huffed. He didn't want to continue the pointless conversation any longer. There was a punching bag with his name on it.
Tim watched him leave then called his other brothers down to the cave in secret. He wanted to share his findings with them and perhaps they could hear the accent they had loved again. "Are you sure you heard it? It's barely there when he's scared so why would it be if he's angry?" Jason asked. "Dick is hardly angry but he is frightened every night. Perhaps his brain is unused to the feeling of anger so it cannot concentrate on keeping the fake accent," Tim hypothesised. He smiled and glanced up at them. "We'd obviously need to test this theory further. That way we can get reliable results," he added. Jason's face lightened, a grin growing on his face.
"Are you saying we need to piss him off?"
"In the name of science of course."
"Of course," Jason added. "What say you, Demon Spawn?"
"He did take one of my swords without asking," he said thoughtfully. "I'm in." They smiled at one another, beginning to formulate the perfect plan.
After another punch, Dick decided to take a break. It always felt good to pumble the punching bags with all his might. Bruce taught him to beat the living daylights out of the fabric when he was angry. Although it wasn't often that he did get so angry, he had taken out two of the punching bags in the last year. At least he wasn't as bad as Damian. That guy went through punching bags like Batman did Robins. He sat down to take a breather when Jason waved to him from the doorway. "Hey Dick, can I steal 'ya for a second?" Jason asked. His voice seemed a little too sweet, somewhat sickly sweet. Dick nodded cautiously, walking over to him. What could he possibly want? "Babies first," Jason said when Dick waited for him to move.
"Okay?" Dick muttered. He walked in front of him until Jason kicked his legs, making him trip but not fall. "What was that for?" he snapped.
"What was what for?" Jason replied innocently. He got a sharp glare but still acted innocent. Dick rolled his eyes and carried on walking only to be tripped again. And again. And again. And again. Finally, he had enough. "Would you stop bloody kicking my legs!" he shouted. Jason smiled at him, happy with his handywork. "You used your accent." he taunted in a sing song voice. Dick growled at him. He was in no mood to deal with this today of all days. "Did Tim tell you to do this?"
"No," Jason lied. Dick quirked his eyebrow in disbelief. It was clear Jason wanted to play the long game with this so he gave up trying to get a confession. "Just leave me alone or else." He walked upstairs as Jason laughed to himself. "Or else. Yeah right."
Seeing that Jason had taken a slow methodical approach, Damian decided to be more forward. Very forward. Too forward. Dick was sitting in his bedroom, reading a book to calm himself down. He heard a knock on the door and, not thinking much of it, opened the door. It was Damian and before Dick could ask what he was here for, he was swiftly punched in the stomach. "Dude what the hell!" he wheezed angrily.
"Huh, so Drake was correct," Damian said.
"I think you broke my insides." The older didn't seem to mind, shrugging at him.
"That's quite the exaggeration. Father says dinner is ready by the way." As he walked off, Dick glared at him. He began to silently make a list of ideas on paying his brothers back. The threat he gave to Jason was much more real than the older had thought.
At the dinner table, Dick plotted out what he could do. His plotting was interrupted when a pea was flicked at his forehead. He snapped his eyes up, searching for the culprit. Another pea hit his head when his eyes fell on Damian, this time flicked at his ear. He turned to Jason only to get another ear full of pea from the otherside. "Bruce, they're flicking peas!" he exclaimed. He was getting sick of his brothers now. However, this time he heard his accent slip through and he snapped a hand over his mouth. God damnit they were right. Bruce stared at him in surprise. "When did you ditch the American accent?" he asked. He seemed pleased at the development.
"He didn't. It just comes out when he's angry and it's adorable," Jason cooed, pinching Dick's cheek like a grandmother. His hand was slapped away and Dick got up. "You better watch yourselves because I'm gonna teach you a lesson for this!"
"Yeah okay, Dick. We're so terrified," Tim teased. Dick gritted his teeth and went to bed early or at least, that's what they thought.
Jason was the first to get taught a lesson. He'd had a rough night last night and his helmet had been scuffed. He planned to clean it for once but when he went to where he kept it, the helmet was no longer red. His helmet was hot pink with daisies painted around the top. "Dick," he gasped. "Told you I'd teach you a lesson," Dick said from the doorway. Jason whipped around to face him, red with anger. "Come here you little-!"
"Language Jay!" Dick giggled wildly, running down the hall. Jason never caught up with him and had to spend days trying to take the paint off. Unsurprisingly, criminals enjoyed the sight and were often too busy laughing to fight back.
Damian was second. He'd noticed something was wrong with his swords but he couldn't tell why. He picked one up, noticing that it was light. Within seconds, the sword fell apart in his hands. "What in the world?" he muttered. He picked up another and it fell apart again. He couldn't believe it. There was no rust on any of the blades and none of them were corroded enough to make them this fragile. "What happened in here?" Dick asked as innocently as possible. "Somebody tampered with my swords," Damian growled. Dick stifled a laugh and picked up one of the hilts of the swords. "Maybe you should read what it says on this," he suggested. He was eyed suspiciously by Damian but he read it anyway. "It says "Enjoy looking for your swords in England." By the time he was finished reading, Dick had disappeared and a map was left on the ground. "FATHER!" he screamed.
Lastly was Tim. He knew something was going to happen, he just didn't know what. He was constantly on edge. Waiting for something to happen was a lot worse than something actually happening. Eventually, he came up to Dick and asked what would happen to his belongings. "How much work have you done lately?" Dick asked. Tim thought to himself. He knew it was a lot less than normal. He kept falling asleep shortly after he was given his nightly coffee... "You spiked my coffee!" he shrieked.
"Spiked is a strong word. I just made it differently," Dick replied. "Because unlike Jason and Damian, you value work a lot more than you value your possessions." Tim couldn't believe this had happened to him. "But for good measure, you might want to check your computer. Somebody might've tampered with it." He walked away with a triumphant smile on his face. "Oh and Tim?" Tim looked up reluctantly. Dick's face had darkened in a way he hadn't seen before. "If you try something like this again, I won't go as easy on you. My accent means nothing to me now so get used to it."
God this took ages to write.