Chapter Text
Duke blamed the fried rice.
Now, from Duke’s point of view, that was actually a quite logical conclusion to end at. Afterall: what other food has the same destructive ability to shatter any relationships you might have with your family? What other dish had the power to subject its consumer to a city-wide manhunt that he most definitely did not deserve?
Yeah.
The rice was definitely to blame.
*****
It was movie night at Wayne Manor, and any member of the family would tell you that it was a serious affair. The movie had to be delicately selected to avoid any… less popular choices (discussion of the Mean Girls Incident™ was strictly banned on Manor grounds).
So that’s how Duke found himself sitting on one of the sofas in the TV room, sandwiched between Stephanie (who had Damian on her lap - Duke had no idea how she’d managed that) and the life sized cardboard cutout of John Cena (a mandatory viewer at any Movie Night. Duke still hadn’t heard the story behind it, but he was just a few kitkats away from bribing Tim into telling him).
Dinner wasn’t anything cooked by Alfred - much to the old butler’s chagrin - but was traditionally some form of fast food. That night, it was chinese food from that one place by the park that was technically the front for some gang’s drug business, but Dick had somehow managed to convince Bruce that it was harmless enough and the food was good enough to leave alone.
So Duke was sitting there, eating from a box of takeout, trying not to feel like John Cena was staring into his soul, and avoiding Stephanie picking at his food, waiting for Alfred to put the movie in. That night they had picked Finding Nemo, because apparently Damian hadn’t seen it yet.
Duke, like any other sane-ish-but-not-really™ person, was also contemplating the intricacies of the universe as he ate his fried rice.
Shrimp fried rice.
Huh, shrimp.
That reminded him: they had learned about shrimp in his biology class at school (Bruce wouldn’t let Duke drop out like Tim, unfortunately). One of the things that had stuck out to him was the shrimp’s ability to see other colors that humans couldn’t. It honestly reminded him a lot about -
Oh.
Oh no.
Duke glanced around him, trying to tell if anyone had come to the same conclusion as him, but only found Kate challenging Bruce to an arm wrestle, and everyone else taking bets on how soon Bruce would cry.
So nothing out of the normal.
That didn’t quite compute with Duke, considering his life changing realization. So Duke considered his options: A) be quiet and act like a Good Child and not bring up a topic which may or may not spark Ginger Ale War 2: Electric Boogaloo or B) be a little shit.
Duke chose the second option.
The Day Patrol grinned slyly as he held up his fried rice, and confidently proclaimed to the room: “Hey, do any of you think it’s, like, morally reprehensible for me to eat shrimp? Seeing how they’re my cousins and all?”
Everyone froze.
The only sound that inhabited the room was the low thrum of the taser Harper had been fiddling with just a moment before.
“I’m… sorry?” Tim asked. “ What?! ”
Duke blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”
Jason leaned back in his chair. “Physically? No, your enunciation was on point. Emotionally, though? Narrows, do you need help?”
Duke shrugged. “Only answering my question.”
Bette shook her head. “What?”
Duke frowned. For a group of the greatest detectives on earth, they were awfully slow to understand the deep moral ponderings that Duke felt needed to be shared.
“Do I need to talk to Pamela and Crane about being too hard on you with their toxins?” Selina asked, a mix of concerned and vaguely intrigued.
Duke shook his head. “Though if you could tell Nygma to stop being a little bitch, that would be nice.”
Selina grinned. “He can’t help it - it’s genetic.”
“Master Duke,” Alfred said, “Perhaps it would help everyone to understand if you explain how you came to such a conclusion.”
Duke sighed heavily. “So, I have powers, right?” He waited for the slow confirming nods before continuing. “And one of those powers is seeing outside what you guys would call the visible spectrum.”
“Duke, what does this have to do with-”
Duke waved his chopsticks, cutting off Bruce’s question.
“It’s simple really. I can see more colors. So can shrimp. Y’know the whole shrimp colors thing?” There was a slow wave of understanding that spread out through the present bats. Duke smirked internally. “Therefore, somehow, we must be related. So shouldn’t I not want to eat shrimp?”
Damian sniffed from his place on Stephanie’s lap. “That is idiotic. Though I do agree that it’s morally reprehensible to consume any living thing, now matter how related you might be.”
Bette shook her head and went back to sprinkling gold glitter in Kate’s hair. “I dunno, dude, that’s kind of… not logical.”
Bruce seemed to be in agreement with his younger cousin - if the slow twitch in his left eye was anything to go by. “Where did I go wrong with you?” Bruce asked quietly.
Duke didn’t quite know how to answer that, so he stuck with a simple shrug.
The other kids in the room were still fairly still. Then, simultaneously, they glanced around and met each other’s eyes. Duke was equal parts terrified and thrilled at the bone-chilling eye contact.
“Does this mean…?” Dick began slowly, his eyes wide.
Suddenly Stephanie shoved Damian off her lap (the boy screeched like a wounded cat at the sudden change) and fell to the floor on her knees, facing Duke. She threw her arms up then collapsed in a worshipful position. In unison, the rest of the family (with the exception of the Adults™ - Bruce, Kate, Alfred, and Selina) did the same. Even Damian looked vaguely excited to somehow be involved.
“All hail Duke Thomas!” Stephanie cried triumphantly. “Our-Shrimp-Colors-God-Overlord!”