002yb

[002yb]

Dick is Robin for only a few years before the Court manages to steal him away. Scary as it is, Dick holds out. Never bending, never breaking. He keeps his resolve, unnaturally resilient. Holding out for his partner to come save him. Waiting. Waiting.

Only Batman never comes, never finds him, never saves him.

It doesn't matter how strong Dick is or how much he can make himself endure - when weeks become months become years, he's faced with a cruel truth: no one's looking for him.

Then the Court gives news that Batman has a new Robin and Dick's hope falters, his faith breaks. It leaves him vulnerable because Dick trusted Bruce. He believed in him, fought with the entire Court when they slandered Batman's name.

Dick fought for him all this time, yet Bruce...abandons him? Because Dick isn't there. Because he isn't useful. Because he wasn't good enough.

'Expendable.' The Court tells him.

And the thing is - Dick is still young. He's more stubborn than most. He has a resolve not many can fathom, but there's a moment he falters because he's alone again.

That's all the Court needs.

They make Dick a Talon. They make him a tool. Expendable, but he's not one that's so easily replaced. He makes sure of it.

It's beaten into him over the years. A tool. A weapon. Something used. Something discarded. A tool, a tool, a tool.

And Dick - he forgets a lot. So many important things are taken from him to keep him tame and compliant, but he remembers a profound betrayal. A terrible heartache. It's the one thing the Court can't strip him of, though they've taken the memory of why.

It all comes back in a confrontation with Batman. It hits in such a vicious rush that Dick is winded by it.

Because Batman calls for him: Dick.

And Dick can't even blunt the emotions. They're so raw and visceral that they're torn from him. The hard clench of his jaw, the tremble of his lip. The tears that come unbidden, hot and stinging his eyes.

They don't fall until Dick lunges forward, talons bared and aimed to kill. He's stronger than he was when he was young; capable, useful, worthy. A tool to be wielded. A tool that doesn't bend or break. A tool forged from the hurt of abandonment, the burn of being replaced.

Dick isn't expendable anymore.

He proves it.

Until he's got Batman on his back. Until Batman stops fighting back. Until he can get him to an edge and let him fall and so Dick can follow after.

When Robin holds his arm back to keep him from beating Batman to death, Dick rears on him. Sloppy, enraged, hurt.

In the span of a heartbeat, a breath, a blink - Talon gets Robin by the throat and throws them both to the ground.

'Robin,' It's the first word he's spoken in years. He spits it like something foul, rotten, while caging Robin in bodily.

And all Talon notices is how small this boy is. Soft, brittle. This is his replacement. Talon could break him. Expendable, just like him. Or he can hide him away - see how long it takes Batman to give up on this one.

Or maybe this one is better. Maybe he's good enough to be looked for, fought for, saved.

Robin doesn't fight him. He holds onto Talon's wrist, but there's no force behind it. Robin just...looks at him. Somehow not threatened despite how awful Talon is.

Because Jason knows who Talon is. Because he knows without being told that Talon is hurting more than anyone can understand. And Jason knows best how hurt people hurt others and Talon - he's been hurt so grievously.

Twisted, broken. His freedoms stripped, his name taken.

Left alone. Left without hope.

'Robin,' Jason gives it back. Takes it right back to when it was an endearment and not a mantle, a weapon, a tool.

And Dick thinks he might see why this boy replaced him. Because he's strong-willed and resilient, same as Dick. Because he's kind, tender-hearted.

Batman might not have been able to save him, but Robin will. Robin to Robin, Jason promises it, swears it. 'I'm gonna save you this time.'

And Dick - he feels a flicker of something familiar. Something lost and found; hope. In the name given back to him, in the boy that kept it safe.

---------

Talon!Dick x Robin!Jason @nyxvoidgoddess @🙏anon 🦉

[002yb]

The most painful part of it all is that Dick knows better. He's still a young god, but he's heard the stories and was warned of the dangers: those who the gods love most die young.

It's not the first time for him. Because he loved the stars and now they're scattered, dimming one by one because he can't stay his affection for them.

So he knows better. He knows.

There's nothing good waiting for him at the end of this.

Because Jason is a boy marked by tragedy.

Which, in hindsight, might be why Jason finds Dick at all. Because in Dick's attempts to escape the stars, he hides away in a dirty, putrid alley and makes himself small so that he can dim and fade away like his first love. A brittle, broken bird; a spot of color in dreary grey. Like this, Jason and he aren't much different.

It may also be why he stays. It may be why he tries so hard to see Dick well again. Sharing food he can't spare, using his jacket as a bed for Dick's comfort although it's cold. Compassion has no place on these streets, but Jason is stubborn in his kindness. He makes his choice and stands by it despite the added hardship it brings him.

It's not like Dick will die like this. He can't. He's tried.

He has the impression that Jason wouldn't care even if he knew. This boy's as strong as he is tender-hearted.

Dick not being in a state to feel much of anything about it, but still being peripherally aware of how Jason tries to take care of him. Because Jason prays. Maybe not to him, but definitely for him.

Something something seeing Jason's devotion to Dick makes Dick liven up. Because he may have run from the stars that he could, but somehow he found another in this dank city.

He knows better.

Dick stays anyway.

It's thrilling to see how Jason brightens once Dick livens up, though the relief is undercut by sadness once the bird he's kept starts to fly. He thinks Dick will leave, but he's mistaken.

Because Dick is always around. Always in view, lest he perches on Jason's head. Dick leads him to food, to shelter. Leads him through the alleys to safety. Teaches him to fly across rooftops so that no one can touch him; so that he's closer to the skies although Dick is there and everywhere and Jason can't possibly be closer.

It's that freedom - that moment. That wild smile and unfettered laugh. Dick wants that. Again and again.

Dick sees how beautiful Jason is like this; like all the lost magic in the world and all its forgotten wonders.

Jason thrives when he's loved.

Something something Dick perched on Jason's shoulder and pecking his ear for attention, pulling his hair. Dick nestled into the front pocket of Jason's overshirt, sleeping although he has no need for it. Lulled by the beat of Jason's heart beside him.

It's a quiet life. Not quite peaceful, but they look after each other and get by.

Then Batman comes.

Jason is given a life he deserves with purpose that fits him - a guardian, a protector.

He takes the name Robin because of Dick. Because there's always a robin around him; because that bird is never far. Always watching, protecting.

And that's when it falls apart. Because in a blink, Jason's happiness is replaced with hurt and his laughter becomes terrible cries as he's beaten.

It's a cruel death and even if Dick is a god, he can't intervene in Fate's design. He's a god, but he's young and dumb and powerless still.

He knew better.

Jason dies.

Dick can't die with him. He tries.

So he perches on Jason's headstone, waiting for nothing. Day after day after month after year.

Only to wake when he hears Jason's heartbeat, his gasp for air six feet under.

----

Something something Jason and Dick coming back with a vengeance. Jason still becomes Red Hood and Dick becomes a God to the Forsaken or some such. Fueled by the anguish wrath of one Jason Todd.

But also? A little robin perched on Red Hood's shoulder or head as he's trying to look intimidating? Dick unintentionally kills the vibe and makes Red Hood look very princess.

Something something Dick rarely taking human form but when he does he looks vaguely similar to Jason (because that's the human he's most familiar with). Jason's not sure how to feel about it, especially when Dick pushes Jason back into a wall and kneels for him. Presses reverent kisses to Jason's navel, his hip. Rests his hand to the back of Jason's thigh. When he speaks filthy praises that make Jason's knees so weak they buckle.

----------

God!Dick x Human!Jason @sealiesha 🐦

[002yb]

Nightwing!Dick x Civilian!Jason? 👀

The misadventures of being a clerk at some nameless convenience store that gets way too much foot traffic from the vigilante crowd.  The novelty wears off very quickly.

Because Jason is the clerk and it's somehow commonplace for some vigilante to be thrown through the storefront.

It happens often enough that Jason doesn't even flinch when it happens anymore. This is Gotham, after all. Jason sees worse on his walks to and from work.

So he waits for the hero-of-the-day to get gone, puts down whatever book he's reading to help pass his shift, and picks up a broom to clean up the mess.

It's more work for him, but he’s used to it. There are even times where he looks forward to doesn’t mind it.

Because sometimes, there's this: the ringing of the bell over the door as Nightwing slinks back with a sheepish smile and familiar apology.

And it's always surreal, always funny, how Nightwing insists on coming through the door and not the hole he made in the window; how he takes the broom from Jason and helps clean the mess.

Nightwing checking that Jason didn't get hurt. Concerned in a way Jason doesn’t know what to do with. Gentle in a way Jason shies away from, skittish.

And Jason checking on Nightwing, in turn. Patching him up. With Jason sat on the counter and Nightwing stood in front of him. Picking away debris, wiping away blood. Again, Jason is used to it. His movements are so practiced that Nightwing notices and has to bite his tongue over what the implication of that is, how it bothers him.

And after they've boarded up the busted window and righted all the stands of merchandise, Nightwing hangs around at the counter. All witty quips and easy banter between them.

Sometimes Nightwing asks after what book Jason is reading. Sometimes he'll read them on his own time just to come back and talk about it with Jason next time. Helping pass long hours until he's called away or dawn starts to break.

Or it's Nightwing talking about his night, his friends, Batman and Robin. Story after story from a full life; like a storybook that Jason never tires of reading.

Jason admitting he had a crush on Robin, back when.

And Nightwing's smile being so brilliant and boyish that part of Jason knows this is him [Robin].

It's never more than this.

And Jason doesn’t know if he's dismayed by that or not. Life is busy for him without the complication of a vigilante that might be a friend.

Jason doesn't have any many of those.

Nightwing might be his first.

Time drags on without Nightwing for company. Jason recognizing for the first time how dull life is without him around.

But it's always around this time that Nightwing makes another loud, disruptive appearance. And Jason doesn't bat an eye, but he might smile. Just a bit.

[002yb]

Under the influence of fear gas, Dick’s terrors present themselves as grief rage. And it’s not like Jason was hit by anything himself, but he still feels it—the chill, the rush of adrenaline.

It's the first time Jason sees Dick so angry and it scares him. Because he's seen Dick mean before, but he's never seen him violent. Blinded by a rage that looks more like anguish, bare knuckles bruised and bleeding because he's fighting to kill.

Jason having to physically hold Dick back. Arms wrapped tight around Dick's middle and struggling because Dick thrashes against him so aggressively; frenzied.

Dick's voice being shot because Dick isn't just yelling, he's screaming. Until his throat is raw. Until Jason hears his voice break under the weight of the cry caught in Dick's throat.

And Jason doesn't know what to do; he's never seen Dick hurt so bad.

So Jason holds on tighter.

And he doesn't know which of them is shaking, trembling out of their skin. Doesn't know which of their chests is heaving, every breath torn from them - strangled and hitched.

Dick keeps fighting against him. Protesting being held back because Jason was hurt. Because he’s convinced Jason is hurt and nothing scares him more. Dick is wounded by it.

Because it doesn't matter that Jason doesn't wear Dick's mantle anymore; this boy is his.

[002yb]

Dick notices how Jason seems to delight in mundane intimacy. Even small, trifling things that others overlook make Jason flush with joyful contentment. Everything is novel because everything is a first for him and Dick can't help but be swept away by that.

Given that, he isn't surprised that the first time Jason musters up the courage to ask Dick out on a date, it's to go grocery shopping.

Simple as it is, it's a first for Dick (surprisingly, delightfully), for Jason - them. It's nice. Dick doesn't mind it; he enjoys any time he can be with Jason regardless of where they go or what they do.

The domesticity of it all charms Dick, but it's all the little ordinary things that makes Jason so happy. Walking through aisles together, picking out produce while sharing a basket between them, items mixed together.

It makes Jason giddy, all boyish smiles that he fails to bite back, a ruddy blush that looks splotchy and sweet over his face and that stings hot across the back of his neck, the tips of his ears.

Jason's joy is contagious, but Dick is happy all his own, too.

Because Dick recognizes that he's a lucky man. He has Jason. He gets to share all these moments (firsts, seconds, more - all of them) with this person he adores.

So Dick marvels Jason and his clasped hands, their intertwined fingers. Smiles to himself when he gently squeezes Jason’s hand and it makes Jason blush like the first time Dick ever reached out to hold him. The way Dick's gaze would soften. The way he’d feel overwhelmed for how smitten he is; how grateful. Drawing his finger in the smallest caress against Jason’s and being so at ease despite the butterflies Jason gives him.

If Jason doesn't suggest it, Dick would plan to draw their date out. He would want to walk home with Jason. He wants to put the groceries away together. Maybe get a little distracted in the kitchen or wherever else...

The thought of which prompts Dick to lead them through the store, basket in one hand and Jason in another. Pulling him down one last aisle and being humored that Jason goes along easily, only ever content to follow in situations like this.

Content up until Dick reaches out for a box of condoms, at least. At which point Jason screeches and smacks his hand down.

And Dick is dumbfounded up until he looks at Jason and notices how utterly scandalized he is. Possibly redder than Dick has ever had the pleasure of seeing him.

Jason sputtering a slew of gibberish before managing in a panicked whisper-shout, 'What are you doing??!'

And Dick, casual and a little confused, explains, 'We're out,' before going to grab a box.

Which Jason smacks him for. Again. So flustered that he trips over his own words when he hisses, 'Put it back! We don't need it!'

Which is - wow. Dick wouldn't have any response to that, so awed that he’s dumbstruck. All he'd be thinking is how he really is a lucky man; the luckiest, even.

So, a little too zealous and trying not to bumble like an idiot about it he'd ask, amazed: 'You're okay with doing it bare-'

Jason slaps his hand over Dick’s mouth.

And if only because Jason blushes so bad and look flustered enough to faint, Dick realizes that oops, no. It's not that Jason wants Dick to fuck him raw, it's that Jason is embarrassed to buy condoms.

Because this is another first for him.

Try as he might to not laugh, Dick wouldn't be able to help the quiet breath that escapes him. A soft chuckle that makes Jason bristle - embarrassed and self-conscious for only a moment before Dick soothes him by taking Jason's hand in his. Tangling their fingers and brushing a kiss to Jason's knuckles.

Cute. Jason is so fucking cute.

Cuter still is when Jason groans and pulls his hood over his head with his free hand while still holding tight to Dick's hand with the other. It'd make Dick smile against Jason's knuckles and kiss them one last time before he gets all cheeky and teases, 'You want to pick-'

Jason is already halfway down the aisle, Dick's laughter chasing after him.

Extra: Jason making Dick check out by himself, so Dick takes the opportunity to torment him by pointing Jason out to the clerk. The whole walk home, Jason continuously knocks Dick to the side with one of their bags. Ornery and bristling and adorably prickly. It’s all good though. Dick makes it up to him plenty later. To the point Jason is the one dragging Dick down that aisle to buy more condoms later. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[002yb]

Renegade Dick Grayson

[002yb]

Jason try’s to flirt with dick. It either adorably fails and he ends up getting flustered. Or surprisingly, it somehow works and Dick is left stammering.  

And without even trying, dear anon.

[002yb]

Talon!AU where the Court goes so far as to cut a Talon's voice from them, damaging their throats so that they can't speak. It wouldn't be enough that a Talon's autonomy is taken from them, that their minds are ruined from a mess of harmful conditioning. The Court controls them entirely. They act as they’re told; they don’t get to speak.

Talons are weapons, tools. Valuable only until they break.

Talon!Dick being well past that breaking point. They've fucked him up so bad after so many years of abuse that he's sick in the head. Haunted by hallucinations of owl masks, white like bone.

While out on a mission for the Court, Talon would come across civilian!Jason being beat on in an alley. And for a while he would observe, gaze far away as his vision flashes between reality and a faraway memory.

Until suddenly the thugs beneath him wear those owl masks and the boy being attacked is him.

It would trigger him to watch the Court beat him into submission, strip him of his freedoms and everything he ever was or could have been. And a Talon shouldn't feel, but anger and resentment break through the chilling numbness that hangs over him.

He only comes to after - crouched over slain bodies. Hands bloodied, but steady even in the carnage.

It's only when steady rainfall starts, diluting all the blood and dirt in the alley, that Talon looks up at where Jason sits across from him, cowered back against the alley wall.

There'd be something heavy and electric to the air when their gazes catch. Talon's eyes unnaturally bright through the shadows cast by the fabric of his hood, his scarves. But for a moment, he's lost in blue.

Talon's hand wrapping around Jason's throat before he consciously realizes it because through the apathy that weighs on him is that resentment. Because those blue eyes are his. This is him. The boy that broke; the boy that was made a weapon; the boy that wasn't strong enough to save Talon from his fate with the Court.

Talon can smell the fear on Jason. It's sharp. Unpleasant. His pulse is like a bird's heartbeat racing beneath his touch, warm and alive and Talon - he might hate him. When was the last time he felt warmth?

Just Jason looking so similar to the boy Dick was that Talon hallucinates himself and is hurt by all the ways he failed himself.

But then Jason holds tight to Talon's hand, determined to keep fighting. A light in his eyes - bright, like fire. Like hope.

It's only then that Talon lets go. Slow. Shaken.

He's gone before Jason catches his breath, throat hurt and already bruising. And Talon might resent himself a little more because those bruises will linger. Because they're so similar to the scars the Court left on him.

Something something Jason trying to stop Talon before he runs away, but he can't get the words out. If he could have, he would've told Talon to wait; would've asked if he's okay.

Because even when Talon was hurting him, Jason noticed how angry and scared Talon looked. And Jason knows how it is to be hurt that badly, to be haunted by monsters.

So Jason is left there, alone. And he ends up going back to that alley often just to see if Talon will come back; to check if he's okay.

Talon does come back eventually and when Jason sees him, it's a chase. Not that Jason catches him. It'd probably sooner be Talon catching Jason, saving him from a bad fall. And when Talon pulls Jason roughly to safety, they're chest to chest, too close, and it's electric.

Side note: Talon with a muzzle he can’t remove. Maybe vaguely owl shaped because the Court has an aesthetic. But yeah, distinctly: muzzle, hood, scarves. For that bright eyes through dark shadows look.

The Court keeping Talon obscured in every way they can. Trying to rid him of any sort of identity.

Talon taking off those layers little by little the longer he’s with Jason, the more he finds himself.

Jason unwittingly being a little flustered when he finally gets to see Talon because he’s stupidly handsome wtf

Oh. Jason wearing hoods because that’s what he likes, but Talon not getting the fashion memo so he’s constantly pushing Jason’s hood off. Because he doesn’t think Jason should be hidden away in any capacity. ////3////

Extra: Something something Talon having no means of communicating, so Jason learns and teaches Talon sign language.

Dick choosing a combination of signs for Jason (name) on his own. One of his few more independent acts. Maybe little wing, or little bird, or something to do with his kind heart. An endearment.

Which prompts Jason to start signing Talon as big bird, or some such. And ahhhh, Talon finally breaking a smile, huffing the softest breath of laughter over it. ;/////;

[002yb]

“You’d better be thinking of an apology.” He grumbles. “Whatever you did, he’s pissed.”

As if to prove his point, Jason’s voice carries across the cave–all vitriol and indignation as he levels Bruce with a rant that quickly devolves into incomprehensible noise as Jason carries on with wild gesticulations and a tamping of his foot.  It’s a tantrum if Tim has ever seen one, which in all fairness might be par for course where Jason is concerned.  Still, there’s no denying that Dick got Jason in top form today.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” Dick tells him.  Given it’s them, Tim believes it.

Read More on Ao3

[002yb]

It's the weight of the arm thrown over his waist that wakes him, the heat of the body pressed along his back and the slow breaths that ghost soft over his nape.

For a long moment, Jason stares bleary eyed into the dark. His consciousness coming and going between blinks; lashes fluttering until he drifts off again, limbs heavy and thoughts far away. He turns his head into the floor—into a mess of bunched up bedding and scattered pillows. Curling closer to the heat behind him and letting it lull him further, farther, deeper asleep.

There's a novelty in feeling warm like this. In being made languid by the tickle of a nose pressed to his hair; by tangled legs and fingers that twist loose in his sweatshirt to pull him closer still.

[002yb]

When Damian gets his license and can legally drive, the first place he goes is to the Kent's farm to pick up Jon so that they can drive around.

They've got nowhere to go, nothing to do. It's aimless, but they're together and that's all either of them care about.

It's hours of driving along unpaved roads. Only stopping when they happen across a herd of cows crossing the road. And then it's sputtered laughter from Jon and a scoff from Damian, because of all the things that could stop them, it's cattle.

But this is fine, too. So they pet the cows through the window. And Damian is so soft in that moment, warm from the sun and being nuzzled by some cow. It makes Jon feel a little breathless, a little fond.

And then they're driving again. Jon with his hand out the window, cutting through the wind, snatching flowers from the overgrown brush at the side of the road. Tiny, dainty things that Jon hands off to Damian with a broad and dopey grin on his face.

Damian might scowl, but he still takes them. He lets them dry out and he presses them between glass soldered closed with steel. A charm to hang from the rear view mirror or from his bedroom window; something that sits at his desk or that he hides in the breast pocket of his coat, close to his heart.

[002yb]

Monstrous!Dick Agenda

Where younger!Dick has a frenzied madness to him; vicious and consuming like wildfire. Where his eyes spark bright and his smile is wicked—all teeth and bite. There’s this feeling where he can’t be contained, like he can burn the world to ash.

Meanwhile older!Dick is more cold and severe. Less a spectacle and more a silent terror. The sort that paralyzes people with the weight of his presence and drives them to paranoia because they feel hunted, haunted. It’s a foreboding sense of danger—the sort you don’t shake. Like a beast stalking prey; controlled and patient and terrifying for it.

[002yb]

There's a group chat dedicated to how pretty Jason is. Everyone in the family contributes to it, compiling albums worth of photos.

Dick doesn't miss the fact that he's the only one without an invite. It's fine though. Before he was the reliable hero everyone knows today, he was an ornery little bastard. He'll have his comeuppance as well as some fun.

So he torments the family by somehow turning up in every picture anyone ever tries to take of Jason going forward. Either he blocks Jason out entirely or he's there in the background in a way that can't be cropped out. Always making pointed eye contact with the camera.

And at first there's a look of neutral displeasure, but the more friends and family get riled up, the more Dick starts to look smug.

Jason being none-the-wiser about any of this. All he knows is that suddenly Dick is around a lot more; he lingers. Like he wants to spend time together, or something. Because maybe...Dick likes him?

It's a realization that would come when Dick is hanging off of Jason to block a picture someone tries to take. So of course when Dick looks back from where he'd been smirking at whoever, he finds Jason standing there stiff as a board and with the most helpless, flustered expression, the softest of blushes coloring his cheeks and getting steadily redder as Jason spirals back into a crush he thought he took to the grave years ago.

Meanwhile Dick is readily manhandling Jason around and being 'affectionate' with his ‘flirtatious skinship’, but really he's just super into winning this strange game that's him against the world with all these Jason-photo-ops hahaha.

They do fall in love eventually though. There’s no way Dick can be in such close proximity with Jason all the time and not be taken by how charmingly prickly and sweetly mean he can be.

Something something Dick’s focus abruptly shifting off the photobombing game to being locked in on flirting with Jason - drawing all sorts of reactions out of him (via metaphorical pigtail pulling and being a generally ornery little bastard). All captivated and smitten because while he knew it already, Jason really is so damn cute; he’s prettiest when he’s blushing.

The group chat dies a slow death if only because it feels voyeuristic to watch these two dorks fall in love.

[002yb]

Thinking again about all the Dick and Jason things that could've been. Where Dick leaves Robin behind because the mantle becomes a cage, all burdens and expectations; because shame weighs heavy on him for twisting an endearment into a weapon, a tool, a monster. Where Dick doesn't walk away so much as he runs because he doesn't recognize himself in those colors. Because he's not anything bright or good or hopeful anymore. And he doesn't know when he lost those parts of himself (doesn't know if he killed them, buried them).

(Wrong. He was told to leave because Batman didn't need a Robin like Dick).

So Dick leaves Robin behind. He leaves behind the weight of it because he can't carry it anymore. Has it stripped from him because Dick can’t fit the mold he made. Not good enough, not good enough, never good enough.

And then Jason comes to him as Robin and Dick is confronted by everything Dick lost of himself and everything he runs from. Dick wants to ignore him, keep his distance, but Robin is always flitting around him, eager to please. Bright-eyed and filled with wonder.

Just Dick being made aware of all the ways he comes up short and being overcome by a sense of inferiority (to complement Jason; they’re both trying to live up to unattainable standards that they see in each other).

Dick doesn't mean to resent him, but he does. And he's not the sort to get angry, but it's better than being hurt.

But Robin stays with him despite how ugly he gets because he sees through the anger to the anguish just beneath. He wears Dick down until he breaks. Because Robin--Jason--reminds him of what Robin was always meant to be: dear.

That's how Jason treats Robin. That's how Jason treats Dick.

It's how Dick learns to treat Jason and later, himself. Because he's more than a weapon, more than a mantle.

Jason enduring Dick at his worst and celebrating him at his best and enjoying him during all the mundanity that comes in between. Jason not being scared of what little amounts to Dick's humanity (violent and volatile beneath the veneer, the gilding). There's something dark there, but Jason doesn't care and that's--it's so damn liberating.

Good enough. He's good enough. He's good.

Despite the disappointment of not being much of a hero. Despite how Dick might not be much of a man at all.

Just Dick healing some of the hurt and broken parts of himself and mending his relationship with Robin while building a relationship with Jason--his Robin; his light, his hope and humanity.

And then Jason is taken away and everything good and dear goes with him.

[002yb]

Jason isn't one for honeypot missions, but their guy has niche interests and Jason so happens to fit the bill.

To say he has reservations is an understatement. He hasn't dated anyone; he doesn't fool around. How is he supposed to attract some big shot arms dealer and keep him distracted?

Steph making a joke about Jason showing off his guns, flexing her arm for dramatic effect. Tim thinks it's funny; Jason doesn't share their humor. He's got his heart in his throat. Nothing is funny at that moment.

But Tim swears to Jason that he won't have to do anything. Just sit there. Look pretty.

'But I'm not pretty—'

A protest that Steph scoffs at because she promises that Jason is hot af. Fuckable! Not that it'll get to that point; Tim and her have got his back, but the point stands that their target will be ensnared the moment he sets his eyes on Jason.

Jason still isn't convinced. It shows in his expression and gets more dismal when he looks down at what he's been dressed in—holsters and accessories to draw focus to the swell of his chest and the softness of his thighs. What good is a holster without a gun though? Jason feels bare like this and vulnerable for it.

Given Jason's reservations, Steph steps up. She'll prove to Jason that he's got nothing to worry about, so she video calls the hottest person she knows and asks them: be honest, would you fuck Jay?

'No.' Because it's Cass, of course she wouldn't. Steph tenses up at the blunt answer, laugh awkward until Cass adds a confused, 'Not you,' at which point Steph swoons, smitten until she remembers the situation and 'whoops, let me call you back?'

Cue Tim who swats Steph away because he's got this, watch. He texts Kon a picture and gets a voice memo shortly after that has Tim scrambling to lower the volume on because ffs, omg. Because Kon is shameless about it: 'We've talked about this at length? Of course we should! Is he down? Tell me he's down. I can't believe you finally asked—'

Tim has never felt more embarrassed or exposed. Steph won't stop laughing at him, either. The stupidity of it settles some of Jason's nerves though.

They call a neutral third party, in the end. The hottest guy they know: Dick.

Which Jason is immediately not on board with because it's too embarrassing; Jason has too much shame to be that vulnerable with Dick. Don't do it, give him the damn phone and—

'Be honest, would you fuck Jay?'

And the thing is—Dick doesn't even look at the video call. His phone is clearly pointed at the ceiling while he works on something off to the side.

Still, he doesn't hesitate when he says: 'Yeah.'

And Jason combusts right there on the spot because what.

Which he said out loud because suddenly Dick is looking at his phone screen and he sees Tim, Steph, and Jason just behind them.

'Oh.' Smooth. Dick has always been shameless though, so he moves on quick even while Jason is still floundering to process. The way Dick rallies is truly impressive, but it's nothing compared to his charm. He's soft when he says it, casual, a ghost of a smile on his lips when he catches Jason's gaze through the call and says, 'You look nice.'

Something something Steph snickering at Dick about how Jason looks very nice, pretty even, huh? While bumping her head against Jason's pec. And Dick laughs under his breath, but agrees, 'Yeah, so damn pretty.'

The simple compliment gives Jason all the confidence he needs to get through the mission, but then he remembers what preceded that compliment and Jason goes into crisis promptly after.

[002yb]

There's blood on Jason's hands, but Dick holds them anyway. Lips pressed chaste to his fingertips, teeth grazing soft over the pulse at his wrists.

There’s tender reverence in the way Dick rests Jason’s hands over the cut of his jaw, his cheeks. Dirty as he is, Dick still turns into the mess of him—a kiss pressed to the heel of Jason's palm and holding Jason still when he tries to flinch away.

But Jason sullies him. He ruins everything he touches and he doesn't want Dick to be another casualty. Hope has always been outside of Jason's reach, so it scares him when Dick puts it in his hands so freely—giving himself away; his freedom, his marrow; all the darkness beneath his gilding.

Dick takes the stain of Jason's touch and wears it like warpaint, bearing Jason's colors the same as Jason will always bear his (blood and pitch and bruises).

Like it’s something precious.

Like he’s someone dear.

[002yb]

Jason watching with an utterly vacant stare as Dick strips off his top in the most stupid attractive way Jason's ever seen. Completely impassive because he's been desensitized to the sight of Dick being aggravatingly hot while doing average, everyday, mundane shit.

That doesn't stop Jason from being exasperated by Dick's natural inclination to be good-looking though. There's something wrong with being so unfairly, stupidly hot. No one should be such a handsome Adonis knockout bastard.

What sucks more is that Dick isn't even trying. He's just being wholly, casually himself and it's ridiculous.

Jason hates him on principle, but not enough to look away.

So he stands there off to the side, halfway out of his own shirt and contemplating life. Eyes trained to the lines of Dick's abs before dragging back up to look Dick in the eyes.

And then Jason clicks his tongue and scowls, calling Dick out because Dick is a little too dazzling (all toned muscles and golden skin and easy confidence); it's hazardous.

So Jason purses his lips in a sulk and complains, 'Who was that even for?'

Which catches Dick off guard because he hasn't got a clue what Jason is on about. He does a lot to provoke Jason's ire on the daily, but he's at a genuine loss on what he's done this time.

So Dick stands there, considering Jason as he tries to puzzle out what Jason is talking about. Taking his time with turning his shirt right-side-in after it got flipped inside out when he pulled it off. Movements slow and measured and—

—distracting. Jason scowls and Dick can't help but think it looks more like a pout, like Jason is sulking. Cute.

And it's while Dick is appreciating how weird Jason is that Dick looks at him and appreciates Jason for a whole other reason.

Because Jason is standing there with both his arms tucked in through the sleeves of his shirt, poised to undress in a way that makes him look sweet and endearing.

The surly look Dick is given is a familiar sight. While it would scare off a lesser man, Dick finds it charming.

So naturally, Dick wants to provoke Jason a bit more.

Jason really does hate him. Like with all things, mischief is a good look on Dick, too.

Dick doesn't say a word, just looks at Jason with a devilish smirk while leaning back against whatever's nearby before twirling his shirt around. Teasing, playful and ornery. Making a joke while putting on a show for the sole purpose of tormenting his little wing.

Playing coy for as long as it takes Jason to blush (no time at all), at which point Dick laughs. Sharp and delighted; wicked and wonderful. Tickled by himself for embarrassing Jason so thoroughly.

'Who was that even for?' Hah. It'll only ever be for Jason now—an inside joke for the two of them every time they change out together now.

And Jason flusters so bad, but flushes pretty in his embarrassment. Complaining loud and finding the wherewithal to strip so that he can twist his shirt up and whip Dick with it in retaliation.

It doesn't matter that Jason would be swept up in the moment, smile biting and boyish while snapping his shirt at Dick and as Dick whips him in turn, cackling loud—he still hates this big bird because he's most breathtaking like this, smiling something wicked, eyes bright and warm and wild.

By the time they settle down, they've got red welts all over them. Some of them bruising, a few of them bleeding. Jason's got his shirt half pulled on, a shield for himself as he lays prone on the floor. And when he looks at where Dick sits next to him, the bastard holds his gaze and smirk again, a half-smile as he slowly twirls his shirt one more time.

Stupid, Jason would think. Biting back a laugh and turning away to hide a smile. Fucking ridiculous. Jason loves hates him.

=====

Unpopular opinion: Jason takes his tops off one arm at a time before pushing it up over his head. No sexy, fluid stripping for him. Maybe it's inefficient and not very machismo, but it's super cute and I love that for him. But wait, let's make it sad—Jason being generally reluctant to take off his clothes because of childhood trauma and body dysmorphia.