Another request from CharmerMaster! Takes place after 'The New Girl'.
UPDATE: added into two chapters
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"Guys, guys—I finally got my costume," (Y/N) smirked, running into the Batcave. She'd been training for a month or two now, but Bruce was still holding off from letting her go on any missions. Today, however, he let her try on the outfit she designed a few days prior. Clad in all black with a full coverage mask on her head and fake wings replacing a cape, she called herself 'Crow'.
"Awesome!" Dick complimented.
"You're costume looks really cool," Tim said, fiddling with a device on the Batcomputer.
(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, "You didn't even look at it."
"I did! Just before it was on you," he typed vigorously, "Ugh, I can't figure this out!"
"What's the problem, Timbers?" the eldest asked, turning around from his seat on the counter near the keypad.
"The security cameras in the manor are acting up 'cause of the storm, so I'm trying to get them back up. It should be an easy fix, but I can't seem to..."
(Y/N) spaced out as he rambled on, staring at the wall ahead of her in boredom. Eventually, her savior approached her.
"I presume the masters are boring you once again?" Alfred whispered in her ear so as not to offend the others.
"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p', "Hey, do you think I could help you with laundry or something? The boys are leaving soon, anyway."
He furrowed his eyebrows, "Laundry is not as exciting as you seem to think it is, Mistress (Y/N)."
She snickered, "Better than this."
"Hey, we're heading out," Dick walked hastily past his sister, absentmindedly kissing the top of her head.
"Be safe," she called, watching her brothers hop into their respective means of transportation.
"So, about that laundry..." Alfred began.
Before she knew it, (Y/N) was trudging up the stairs, a large pile of Jason's clothes in her hands. She immediately regretted her decision after this as she was more than displeased to be carrying her brother's boxers, but she continued on anyway. Once at Jason's room, she pushed open the door and threw the bunch onto his bed. Finally, she could take in her surroundings; she jumped a bit, seeing beer bottles, cigarettes, and guns tossed all around.
Oh, shit! she cussed to herself.
Giving a slight whine, she pondered her options in this situation. She could tell the others, but she'd seen the wrath of an angry Bruce Wayne once before and wasn't planning on evoking it any time soon. What was next? She could call Alfred, but he was busy right now. Besides, he's always dealing with another stressful situation; (Y/N) can handle this one on her own. That thought sparked an idea in her head—what if she didn't tell anyone? What if she just solved this herself?
Sprinting to her room, she grabbed a pair of old gloves and got to work. In Jason's room, it seemed the guns were literally everywhere. On the floors, the walls, even his bed! (Y/N) frowned as she picked them up, swearing she was going to make her brother pay for being such an idiot. Once all the guns were collected, she contemplated collecting the rest of the trash in his room, but as soon as she picked up one of the cigarettes, she made a poker face and let it fall back down to the ground in disgust.
You can do that part yourself, Jay.
(Y/N) heaved the box down the stairs ("Wow, I'm having Deja Vu to literally half an hour ago"), then went outside and threw it in the family's garbage can; the garbage truck was going to be coming around in the next hour, and she put her hands on her hips triumphantly, knowing she had successfully solved her problem.
When Jason returned home that night, (Y/N) acted like nothing happened. He didn't have any guns on him since he'd only gone out to see Roy and Kori, so he was surprised to see that there were no guns in his bedroom. Fumbling about, he tore his room up searching for them.
"Can you stop making so much noise, Todd?" an annoyed Damian called from his spot on the couch next to (Y/N).
"Yeah, what's going on?" she feigned concern.
He ran out of his room to the top of the stairs, "I can't find my guns! They're all gone!"
"Sure, you somehow lost all of your many guns," the youngest brother mocked, rolling his eyes.
"I'm telling you, demon brat, they're gone! (Y/N)—you were here the whole time. What happened?"
The only response his sister gave was a shrug before she turned to face the TV again.
"What?" he yelled, "How do you not—ugh, y'know what? Nevermind. I'll find that bastard myself."
Jason pulled on his helmet and swung the door open. Before he left, he mentioned, "If I'm not back by sunrise, call an ambulance."
"For you?" the girl questioned, silently judging him with the raise of an eyebrow.
"No, for the guy—I'll beat him within an inch of his sad, sorry life."
"Ah, right," (Y/N) replied in a monotone voice as Jason slammed the door shut.
Damian tutted, "Drama queen."
"Dick," his sister corrected him.
He furrowed his eyebrows, "Well. Fuck you, too, then."
"No—I mean Dick is the drama queen."
"Oh."
(Y/N) face palmed, then cautiously awaited her brother's return.
Jason stormed into the house, practically kicking the door open. It was currently 4:30 AM, the sky still black and glistening with little white dots.
"You're home early," (Y/N) stated, leaning upside down from the couch.
"You're still awake," Jason shot back, "Didja' sleep at all?"
"You said to call an ambulance if you weren't back by sunrise, so we waited for you. Or, well, I did. Damian fell asleep while we were in the middle of watching Criminal Minds; Dick took him upstairs when he got home from patrol."
The young man groaned, "Dumbasses. I wasn't being serious."
"'Kay," (Y/N) replied shortly.
"One sec, let me put these guns in my room and I'll be back down."
Fantastic, the girl thought sarcastically. She refused to worry about that right now, though; her brain was completely fried from pulling an all nighter.
"Okay, kid," Jason sighed once he was back downstairs, lifting her into his arms, "Up ya' go."
"Put me down!"
"Nope. You're going to bed."
"But I don't want to."
Despite her protests, the girl made no move to hop out of Jason's arms, though she very well could. The lack of sleep was starting to take a hold of her.
"I didn't ask," he threw her onto her bed, "Get some sleep."
(Y/N), in a high pitched tone, mocked her brother under her breath, but fell asleep shortly after.
The next morning, she shot out of bed quickly, aware of what she needed to accomplish. She tiptoed out of her room and peered over the railing to see what the others were up to.
"Freddy and Sam are obviously the superior couple!"
"No way. Carly and Freddy get along way better than Sam and Freddy do!"
"Can't he just like—find another girl to date and not destroy the friend group?"
The girl raised an eyebrow at her brothers' nerdy debate, That should keep them occupied for a while...
(Y/N) ran quickly and quietly into Jason's room, finding five guns placed neatly on the floor; she'd bet all her money that it was the only tidy part of his room. No matter, she had a job to do. Fiddling with the weapon in her hand, she went over her options once more. She could throw them out again, but then Jason might be onto her. Besides, wouldn't it be fun to mess with Jason during all of this?
A devilish smirk crossed her face, and she decided to drive him a little crazy. First, she needed to start off small. She pulled the cartridges out of her brother's guns, dumped all the bullets out, then put the cartridges back in. She knew Jason would be confused as to where in the world all his bullets went, and she took pride in herself for a job well done. Running back to her room, she forced herself to fall back asleep so she would have an alibi.
The rest of the day's events were, needless to say, not too exciting. Training with Bruce was normal; some sparring, some computer skills, that's all. Today, she sparred with Damian. She was just about to take him down when he made a come back and wrestled her down to the floor. Bruce was pleased with this.
"You're getting better," he said.
"Still not beating anyone yet, though," she replied.
He assured her that in time, she would, and that her training was done for the day. Bounding up the stairs, she decided to finish a few chapters of the book she was reading. This didn't last long, however, as the anticipation of what Jason's night would be like got to her. With a strong energy, she returned to the Batcave once more.
She noticed Tim sitting at the computer, so she asked, "Have you gotten any progress on the cams?"
"No, nothing yet," he rapped his fingers on his temple in thought.
(Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief, feeling lucky that the houses's security cameras decided to malfunction just before she executed her master plans.
"That sucks. What's on the agenda for tonight?"
"Not anything special, just a few small solo missions."
"I for one can't wait to be fighting with my guns again," Jason grinned, walking into the Batcave while spinning a gun around his finger.
Tim rolled his eyes, "It was one night."
"One night too many."
"You have issues," (Y/N) crossed her arms.
"Yeah, yeah, what else is new?" he retorted, distracted by practicing positions with his gun. His sister scowled at him, but he failed to see it.
"Whatever," she huffed, "Good luck tonight, boys."
After the two thanked her nonchalantly, and she turned around and sent a mischievous smile in Jason's direction.
"You're going to need it," she muttered under her breath.
Of course, the girl was right. When Jason returned home, he was bloodied and bruised, holding a cracked helmet. (Y/N) glanced at him from her seat at the dining room table, "I guess it didn't go that well, huh?"
Her brother's eye twitched and he clenched his fists, "Just get Alfred."
"He's out right now, went to buy the groceries or something. I'll clean you up."
He scoffed, "I don't need—"
As soon as he began to speak, his body betrayed him, and he almost fell to the floor in pain. Grabbing his knee, Jason said to his sister through gritted teeth, "Alright. You can help."
(Y/N) smirked at him, then motioned for him to sit down on the chair next to her. He limped over as she went to retrieve a first aid kit from the bathroom.
"How'd this happen, anyway?" she questioned, cleaning a long gash on his face.
"Those assholes at the shop gave me defective guns. Seriously, who does that? I swear to god, I'll make those sons of a bitch pay!"
"Well, maybe this is for the better."
"What?" he yelled in confusion over the ripping of a band-aid wrapper.
"I mean, what if this is a sign? Maybe you should stop using guns and try to find a better means of attack," she pressed the sticky cover onto his wound and he hissed in pain before answering.
"No way I'll ever stop using my guns. They're my thing, y'know? I love them. Plus, they're way easier to use and much more effective than swords or sticks or whatever you nerds are using nowadays."
"Uh-huh, yeah. Knee," she commanded, then continued, "I'm just saying, you'd probably have a better experience if you weren't using those things. They're bad news, Jay."
"Fine. I'll stop using them when you stop dating boys. They're 'bad news'."
She glared at him, then deadpanned, "I hate you."
"Liar," he teased as he watched her finish wrapping his knee into place, "Anyway, thanks for the help. I'm gonna head to bed now."
"Night," his sister called after him.
Sighing inwardly, she concluded that she was going to have to pull another all-nighter. She really didn't want to, but to keep her alibis solid, she knew she'd have to beat Jason to waking up. In the meantime, though, she worked on a disguise. She stole one of Damian's larger jackets, stuffed her hair into a hat, put on sunglasses, and wore a sports bra. Checking herself out in the mirror, she perfected her disguise, then waited until the time was 7:30 AM. After that, she snuck into Jason's room, snatched his receipt for the guns (along with the guns, of course), then headed out into the streets. She walked a mile or two to the shop where they sold guns and arrived just a few minutes after they had opened. Dropping the box of weapons onto the counter, she began to speak.
"Hello—uh—" she cleared her throat and made her voice drop deeper, "Hello sir. I'd like to return these please."
"Uh...okay. Are you sure these are yours, though? You look a little young to be—"
"Are you insulting my age?" she feigned offense, "I'll have you know I was the top of my class in both high school and college! I've worked my butt off trying to get through all my years of life, and I will not have someone else telling me that I'm 'not old'!"
"Okay, okay! Geez. Just give me your receipt, alright?"
"Gladly."
(Y/N) handed the man at the counter her receipt, then received a wad of cash in return. Her eyes sparkled.
Nice! she thought.
Thanking the man, she left the store and ran back home. She was back by 9:00 AM, and luckily, no one in the house was awake yet, save for Alfred. As he worked in the kitchen, (Y/N) snuck upstairs and wrote a quick note, then placed the money into Alfred's room.
Later that day, as a dumbfounded Alfred held the hefty sum along with a note that had nothing but a heart, the girl pondered what fun schemes the world might bring her next.