#and i already know what im writing for my giftee instead of this and on god it's gonna be under 10k... 20k at a push

[thegrimreaperisanerd]

This was originally going to be my gift for the Pale Static Exchange, but as I wrote the intro chapter (2000 words, because it's me) I realised that if I was going to throw my axe into this ring then I want to set the time aside to do it justice.

Anyway, guess what I'm writing.

[terrayoung]

A Delicate Balance

A @dctvsecretsanta fic for @drnathanielheywood, who asked for: team legends stealing Christmas presents through time and Nate/Mick. It’s in Nate’s 2nd person p.o.v.

Fic is under the cut - I hope you enjoy!

"Pleeeeeeeaaaaaassssseeee?" Ray asks, holding out a bowl full of paper slips. "Wally and Mick already agreed - though Mick might've just done it to get me to leave him alone - and I'm sure the others will, too!" He widens his eyes. "I'd really appreciate it! Secret Santa is just the kind of bonding activity we need right now!"

You sigh. Damn those puppy-dog eyes. "Okay, fine. But you owe me an Indiana Jones marathon. And I mean all the movies - even Crystal Skull."

"That's fair."

Ray thrusts the bowl even closer to you. You close your eyes, pray that you get someone easy to shop for, and rummage around in the bowl for your lucky slip. Fingers on your free hand crossed, you unfold the paper. In scrawled black writing is two words and an emoji, "Mick Rory :)". Ray's looking at you expectantly, so you force a smile on your face.

"Didn't get myself, buddy, so I guess that's good," you say. 

"Yep!" Ray beams. "Oh, and before I forget - Mick suggested being able to steal the gifts. Long as you don't take it/them from the less fortunate, it's fair game." He pulls you into a brief, one-armed hug. "Thanks, Nate!"

You watch as Ray leaves your room, then finally let the smile slip off your face. "What the fuck do I do now? Um, Gideon?"

"Yes, Dr. Heywood?" Gideon asks.

"Any ideas on what I could get Mick for the Secret Santa?"

"I'm afraid Dr. Palmer requested that I not give anyone advice about their giftees." She almost sounds regretful. "He said it would be considered cheating."

"Gee, thanks a lot," you mutter.

"You're welcome!"

"Damn AI."

"I heard that," Gideon warns. 

You throw up your hands in frustration and flop onto your bed. After a few seconds, you roll over so you can scream into a pillow. You roll over again a few seconds after that since the lack of oxygen is getting to your head. 

What on Earth could you possibly get - or steal - for Mick? You put too little effort into this and he'll burn you to a crisp, but putting too much effort in would be like a neon sign telling him about your crush. Anything fire-related is too obvious and you know nothing about what he'd need for crime. It's probably too soon to give Mick a new rat and he could just fabricate himself some beer. What does he even like to do?

...Wait. You vaguely remember Mick being super gung-ho about vampires - he was even reading a special edition copy of Dracula. Maybe that's something you can work with. 

 XxXx

  You knock on Sara's door the next day. It takes a few seconds for her to open it, by which point you're already rocking back and forth on your heels. 

"Can I help you?" Sara asks, rubbing at her eyes. 

You nod. "Mind if I borrow the jump ship for a few hours? I think I know what to get my Secret Santa."

"Promise to never wake me up at..." She grabs your wrist, drags it towards her, and checks the time on your watch. "At 6AM ever again?"

"What if there's a life-threatening emergency?"

"If it's before 9AM, I don't care."

"Then, yes, I promise," you say, giving Sara a mock solute.

Sara releases your wrist and waves you away. "Fine. Go. Have fun shopping or stealing or what-the-fuck-ever. I'm going back to sleep."

"Sleep -" You're cut off by Sara sliding the door shut on you- "well." You run a hand through your hair. "Next stop, late nineteenth century." A few steps towards the jump ship remind you that you're still wearing your slippers. "After a trip to the fabrication room."

 XxXx

 You're barely out of the fabrication room - and still trying to fix your tie - when you run into Mick. Literally. Your forehead slams right into his chin. You stumble back, clutching your head, while he just stands there like a brick wall. A very well-muscled brick wall...

You shake your head - causing it to ache some more - to get your brain back on track. Mick raises an eyebrow. 

"You okay there, Pretty?" Mick asks. His gravelly voice rattles through your bones. "Sounded like you hit me pretty hard."

You rub your forehead one last time, then let your arm drop. "Think I'm gonna have one hell of a headache, but I'll live. How are you not in any pain?"

"I am." Mick shrugs. "But I've lived through worse." He stops, stares at your chest, and then rolls his eyes. You have two seconds to blink before Mick's closer than you'd ever hoped he'd get. 

"Umm, Mick?" You'll swear on every bible in the country that your voice didn't just crack. "What's goin' on?"

"Fixing your stupid tie," Mick mutters. 

There's a spark each time his hands brush against your chest. Mick's face is so close to yours and it takes every bit of your willpower to not lean in for a kiss. You don't even realize that you were holding your breath until Mick steps back and it all rushes out of you. 

Mick smirks, proud of his handiwork. "There ya go." He looks you up and down. "Where're you going? Didn't think we had a mission today."

"We - we don't," you reply. "I'm going to go get my Secret Santa's gift." You run a hand through your hair. "No idea how Ray managed to convince all of us to do that, by the way."

Mick just grunts and shrugs. 

"Anyway, um, I'm going to go do that -" you gesture vaguely in the direction of the jump ship -"and I'll see you later?"

"...Sure." Mick steps around you and heads down the hallway. He calls over his shoulder, "Long as you don't get yourself killed."

You're not sure if Mick thinks you're likely to, or if this is his own way of showing concern. It's been a couple of years since you met him and you're no closer to having him figured out. Luckily, you've always been a fan of mysteries. Not as much as histories, but -

You shake your head. Now is really not the time for your train of thought to run off the tracks. You give yourself a few seconds to remember Mick's closeness, then return to heading off to the jump ship. You've got a gift to track down. 

 XxXx

 "Why couldn't this have been a normal trip to Ye Olde Bookshoppe?" You mutter. "Oh, wait, normal flew out the window once I stepped onboard a freaking timeship!" 

"Be quiet!" Van Helsing - Abigail Van Helsing - hisses. "Unless you want the vampire to get us!" 

You hold up your hands, then mime zipping your mouth shut. Van Helsing just frowns before turning to look out of the alleyway. 

You'd started out going to buy an original copy of Dracula for Mick, planning on getting it signed by Bram Stoker himself. But then a fucking vampire had literally crashed the party! Then Van Helsing followed it through, announced she would take care of the beast, and then chased after it. You'd declared your intention to help, and well, here you are now. Somewhere in the middle you've managed to figure out that Dracula was loosely based on a true story. Very loosely, if Van Helsing being named Abigail instead of Abraham and the vampire not having much in the way of sentience are any indication. 

"It's coming," Van Helsing whispers. "You distract it with your "powers"-" how is she able to sound like she's miming air quotes a century before they were a thing?- "and then I'll stab it in the chest. Is that understood?" 

You nod, then steel up. Van Helsing's eyes widen. As soon as you hear the vampire scuffle past, you step out of the alleyway. The sun gleams off of your silver skin and attracts the vampire's attention. You slowly back away to lure it closer and closer to Van Helsing. Once you've moved far enough, you give her a thumbs-up. 

Van Helsing may not recognize the gesture, but she knows a signal when she sees one and jumps towards the vampire. There's a bit of a struggle - most of which is on the vampire's end - and then it's over as soon as it began. Van Helsing brushes the dust off her knife. 

"Thank you," Van Helsing says after a moment. "That would have been a lot more difficult without your help."

You shrug before de-steeling. "No problem. Mind if I ask you a question?"

"I suppose I owe you that much. What is it?"

"Do you know where I could find Bram Stoker?" You hold up the now slightly battered copy of Dracula. "I've got a book for him to sign."

 XxXx

 Bram Stoker looks from you, to Dracula, and then back to you. "You want me to write a dedication to someone I've never even heard of?"

"Yes, please," you answer. "He's a huge fan - uh, admirer - of your writing, and would greatly appreciate your signing the book. I'm planning on giving it to him for Christmas."

"A rare thing for two unrelated men to do," Stoker replies, "but not an unappreciated one. What is your young man's name?"

"He's not young - or mine - but -" You take a breath- "Mick Rory."

Stoker nods. He thinks for a moment, dips his pen in an inkwell, and jots down a few words. "Here you go, Dr. Heywood." Stoker pushes the book back to you. "I hope Mr. Rory takes to this gift."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Stoker!" You barely glance at the dedication before snapping the book shut. "I have to get going, but it was very nice to meet you!"

"Same to you."

 XxXx

 The next person you literally run into is Zari, as you're exiting the jump ship. It affects her more than you, but neither of you get too hurt. Which is great - you still have a lingering headache from your encounter with Mick. 

"Thanks for that," Zari snarks. "Long as you're here, though - any ideas on what to get Hunter? I've only met the man twice, so I'm kinda at a loss."

You snort. "That's a first." You sober up at Zari's withering glare. "Um, I didn't really know 'im too well either. Think I remember someone mentioning he's really into Wild West stuff? That and antiques."

"So shop for you, but lean towards cowboy crap," Zari summarizes. "Got it." She gestures to the jump ship. "Just leaving or just returning?"

"Returning." You step out of Zari's way. "Go right ahead." Before she can get too far, you hold up Dracula and add, "For Mick - what do you think? It's an original copy and it's signed."

Zari shrugs. "He should like it. May even get you that kiss you want."

"Kiss? Why would I want a -" You slump. "How'd you know?"

"You're nowhere near as subtle as you think you are," Zari answers. "Surprised he hasn't noticed - I'm aromantic and I picked up on it ages ago." She hangs in the doorway. "Good luck, though."

"Thank -" Zari shuts the door- "you." You run a hand through your hair. "Why does that keep happening to me?"

 XxXx

 Ray knocks on your door just as you're putting stuffing the last of the tissue paper into the bag containing Mick's gift. You tell him to let himself in, then scribble a note on the to/from sticker. Hopefully your handwriting isn't too distinctive. 

You sit up, expecting Ray to start info-dumping about some new science fact or his latest project, but he's pacing silently instead. It takes about five minutes for concern to override just letting him be. 

"Uh, Ray?" You begin. "You okay there, buddy?"

Ray hesitates before shaking his head. He then leans against the closest wall. 

"What's up? Do you need some paper to write on?"

"Nah," Ray answers. "Just figuring out what to say - I'm not non-verbal atm." He sighs. "Um, I already got my Secret Santa's gift, but... ButIwasthinkingofgettingNoraagifttoo."

You stand up and rest a hand on Ray's shoulder. "I'm totally here for you, but would you mind repeating that for me? My ears can't process your words when you're speaking at a hundred miles an hour."

"Sorry. I said I was thinking of getting Nora a gift, too," Ray confesses. "But I don't know where she is, how to get it to her if I did, or if she even celebrates Christmas. Or how she'd react." Ray smiles sheepishly. "Y'know, with her being a former bad guy and all."

"Yeah, I had the same problem with Mick."

Ray jerks his head up so quickly, you fling your hand out in shock. You can feel a blush spreading across your cheeks.

"Okay, if you agree to ignore the implications there, I'll agree to ignore you implying that you still have a thing for Nora," you say. 

"Fine by me." Ray smiles. "For what it's worth, I think Mick likes you back. I mean, he does call you "Pretty"."

You shrug. "Thinking I'm hot doesn't equal feelings, but thanks. And good luck with Nora. I don't think she's the best person to crush on, but you do you, Ray." You smirk. "Or her." Ray jokingly punches you in the arm. "Hey!" 

"So, assuming I find Nora, you think I should get her something?" Ray asks. 

"Yeah, man. You could always pass it off as a "just because" gift if she's not a Christmas person." 

Ray pulls you into a brief hug. "Thank you for the advice and friendly ear." 

"No problemo."

Ray shakes his head, still smiling, and exits your room. He gives you a wave as the door closes.

 XxXx 

 A few days later, it's finally the moment of truth. Or to put it less dramatically - the day you all exchange your Secret Santa gifts. The result of you shoving in the tissue paper is a bag that's a little messy and half-hazard looking, but you feel it's appropriate. There's more to it than its rough exterior - just like Mick. 

You're the first one on the bridge. You place your gift by the center console and then pour yourself a drink. Maybe it'll help calm your nerves. 

"Great idea, Pretty." Mick's rumbling voice makes you jump - you hadn't heard him approach. Thankfully the glass didn't spill any more than a couple of drops. Mick brushes past you to pour himself... something. You're too busy trying not to shudder from that brief moment of contact. 

"Hey, um, Mick," you finally reply. "Have any trouble finding a gift?"

Mick shrugs. "Wrapping it was the worst part. Ended up just shoving it into a box."

"Yeah, I -"

Whatever you were about to say next is cut off by a deluge of Legends flooding onto the bridge. Several different conversations overlap as people try to put their gifts by the console without tripping over each other. You decide to find a comfortable spot to sit before all the good ones are taken. To your surprise, Mick grabs the one next to you. 

"So, who wants to go first?" Ray asks, once everyone has settled down. 

Sara nods at him. "It was your idea." 

Ray stammers and protests for a bit, but gives in once everyone starts chanting his name. He picks up a small, thin present that has dark blue wrapping paper with silver atoms. Ray tears through the paper less gently than expected to reveal a frame with a photo inside. It's a candid shot of him and a brunette woman - Anna, maybe - sitting on a park bench somewhere and laughing. Ray hastily wipes away a few tears. 

"Thank you," he begins, "whoever, um -"

Rip raises a hand. "I always wished there were more photos of Miranda and myself after she..." he clears his throat. "I hope it's alright that I-"

Before Rip can finish his sentence, Ray all but tackles him with a hug. Rip awkwardly pats his back for a bit, then gently pulls back. 

The rest of the gifts are less emotionally fraught, though no less meaningful. Ava receives two photos - one of her and Sara and one of her with the team - and a hug from Ray. Wally opens an awkwardly wrapped meditation fountain from Ava and gives Sara a set of throwing knives. Sara gives Zari a blanket with various video game symbols and characters, and Zari in turn gives Rip a hat and book from the Old West. Only you and Mick are left, which grants you both significant looks from everyone else. 

"Guess it's pretty obvious who yours is from," you joke to Mick. He grunts and goes to pick up one of the two remaining gifts. 

Your heart is in your throat as Mick carefully pulls out the tissue paper. He frowns at what's inside, but it smooths out once he picks up Dracula. 

"Original edition?" Mick murmurs. "Nice."

You swallow hard. "Look inside the front cover."

Mick does so, his eyebrows lifting as he reads whatever message Stoker left him. "Huh. Thanks, Nate."

Hearing someone call you by your first name usually doesn't send butterflies fluttering in your stomach, but your thing for Mick isn't that usual to begin with. 

"My turn, then." You stand up, grab the sole remaining box, and settle back down in your spot. 

The box is wrapped in simple silver paper and topped with a red bow. You stick the bow to your shirt before unwrapping the gift. First in the box is a photo of Harrison Ford in full Indiana Jones gear, complete with jacket. Underneath that, carefully folded up, is the exact same jacket in surprisingly good condition. 

"Is this -? Did you -?" You're at a loss for words. 

Mick avoids your gaze. "Stole it off the set. I added the picture so you could tell it's the same one."

"Thank you so much." Before you can stop yourself, you pull Mick into the best sideways hug you can manage. Your skin tingles all over when you finally let go, which almost distracts you from noticing that Mick's cheeks are a bit red. Huh. 

Sara pulls you from your thoughts by tapping something - a pen? - against a whisky bottle. "Now that the presents are done with, let's get drunk!"

Most of the team cheers and makes a beeline for the drink cart. Ray switches on some music after clarifying that it's secular Christmas/winter-themed songs only. Mick stands up and nods towards the drinks. 

"You want anything?" Mick asks. 

'A kiss' is what you want to say. What actually comes out of your mouth is, "Not right now. Thanks, though."

Mick grunts in the affirmative before leaving you alone to stew. Which lasts all of five seconds due to Wally zooming over to capture the newly open spot. 

"Y'know, I could get some mistletoe over here without Mick noticing," Wally whispers. "Wouldn't even take two seconds." 

You shake your head. "And make Mick mad at the both of us? Nah. I've known him for this long without him making good on his threats. A little longer would be nice."

Wally face palms, then leaves without saying anything more. He rushes back and - sue enough, there's a mistletoe hanging above where you're sitting. You roll your eyes and go to take it down. Unfortunately, tearing it off causes you to fall back from the amount of force you'd used. You're caught by strong arms before you can hit the ground. 

You look up to find that Mick's your timely rescuer - hero, a part of you whispers - and hastily right yourself on your own two feet. "Uh, thanks, Mick."

"What was that about?" Mick raises an eyebrow. "You shouldn't be drunk already."

"I'm not! It's just -"

"Just...?"

"Wally was trying to play a prank on us," you explain, "and I nearly fell over trying to get it down." You hold up the mistletoe and feel a blush start to spread across your face. "Funny, right?"

"What's funny? You nearly cracking your head open?" Mick asks. 

"No, um, uh-" you look down at the floor- "Wally thinking that making us kiss was a good idea for a prank. I mean, the idea of you and me -"

Mick catches your chin in his hand, tilting it up so your gazes meet. "'S not that bad an idea, actually."

"What - You - I -"

Before you can embarrass yourself even further, Mick pulls you into a kiss. You freeze for a moment, then surge forward to deepen it. Your hands settle on Mick's waist to tug him even closer. 

And then someone wolf-whistles. 

Mick sighs into your mouth, then gently pushes you away. "Should prob'ly continue this where we can have some privacy."

"My room's good," you reply. "Much closer than yours." You can't resist giving Mick another kiss. 

"Works for me, Pretty." Mick steps even farther back, then gestures to the nearest door. The two of you all but run out as you try to ignore all the teasing from the rest of the group. Sara shouts out to not do anything she wouldn't do. Like that's even that long of a list. 

...Which may have been the point. 

 XxXx 

 "Wait," you say, once you and Mick are finally in your room, "hang on a second, okay?"

Mick frowns but complies. "Y'not want to do this anymore?"

"For now?" You nod. "For now. It's just -" You run a hand through your hair. "I don't know if we're on the same page here, or if you even like me or anything."

"Would I kiss you if I didn't like you?" Mick asks.

"I mean, like me, like me. I mean -" moment of truth, here- "I'm in love with you. Have been for a while. Even when I was with Amaya, I think I felt something like that for you." Your eyes widen. "Not that I didn't love Amaya! It was just... both of you, I guess. Amaya and I were just starting to talk about it right before she, um, left." You pause to take a breath. "If you don't feel the same, that's fine, but - I don't want to do a friends with benefits thing if you don't. I don't think my heart could take it." It's a while before you can meet Mick's gaze. "So, that's where I'm at. How 'bout you?"

Mick folds his arms. "I'm not good at this feelings crap, but..." He sighs, then waves a hand around. "I feel the same. I think. 'm willing to give it a chance, anyway. Is that enough?"

"Yeah." You smile broadly. "Yeah, it is."

Mick shakes his head fondly - for him, at least - and then pulls you into another kiss. 

[blueflamebird]

Jaytim secret santa 2017 pt 2

so i had a second giftee! @sociallyawkwardfoxwriter I love your writing and hopefully this is ok ;-; it was such a hard prompt to write because im terrified of ghosts. 

Prompt: ghost jason meets robin tim

rating: general

Tim wasn’t one to believe in supernatural forces.

He liked to use logic and reasoning, science and math, evidence and facts.

Magic, ghosts, demons?

They had none of that.

Well, he knew several aliens, Miss Martian, Superboy, Starfire. He even knew the half demon, Raven. But he personally had no interaction with the supernatural forces, and he was fine with that.

He went through several...weird adventures with the Titans, even with Batman and Nightwing, but they were all solved in a logical way.

So when he started feeling like someone was watching him, or when weird things started happening, he thought he was just being paranoid. Little to no sleep and dealing with psychos like the Joker would do that to a person.

It wasn’t until things escalated, like his files flying everywhere, or his batarangs suddenly flying at him, that Tim finally accepted that maybe he was being haunted.

Even then, Tim didn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t like whatever spirit was doing this was hurting him, just making his job more difficult than it had to be.

So Tim ignored the papers being knocked down, grabbed a spare mask whenever his went missing suddenly, and did the best he could to try and figure out who would haunt him while paying them no mind.

The spirit, Tim begrudgingly admitted to it being a spirit, never followed him out of the cave, and though Tim still felt like he was being watched on missions, nothing supernatural ever happened. Tim wouldn’t admit he was thankful for that.

The Titans seemed to know immediately. Tim didn’t know how, but they knew. Kon and Bart always looked a touch more worried than usual. Raven gave him pointed looks, but said nothing. Gar was always on edge, and seemed anxious around him. Kori told him on multiple occasions he was more than welcome to stay. Tim declined every time, but the worried look she’d give him made Tim wonder when she would finally call Nightwing.

But none of them ever tried to force Tim to talk about it, and for that he was grateful.

Tim was always called a smart kid. He was far more intelligent than most kids his age, and he was already known as the world’s second greatest detective, right after Bruce. So, he did what every ‘normal’ kid his age would have done. He decided to talk to the spirit.

There was a sense of comfort being alone in the batcave to ‘talk to ghosts.’ He would at least hear Alfred or Bruce coming and could always say he was doing work.

With a tentative look towards Jason’s old Robin uniform, scorch marks and everything behind clear glass, Tim called out. “Uh..hello? Are you there?”

There was a pregnant silence. Tim knew he was listening, this wasn’t normal silence. Even the bats were watching, listening, waiting.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is with me, but I’m not here to bother you.”

The silence continued to ring in the Batcave, and the cold sweat that broke out on Tim’s forehead told him that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“I’m...just here to make sure Bruce doesn’t do anything stupid. After Jason died-”

It clicked in his mind. But Tim scrunched his face up, confused. He didn’t know Jason. Sure, he took pictures of him as Robin, but personally he didn’t know anything about him. Jason didn’t know him either. So why would he-

Tim sighed, turning to Jason’s suit, hung up like a memorial in the cave. “I know no one wants me to be here. Dick doesn’t, Bruce doesn’t, and it looks like you don’t want me here either. But...I have to do this. Batman and Robin meant more to me than you could ever imagine. Bruce is beating himself up because of what happened. He’s becoming self destructive and Dick won’t do anything about it. So, I will. And once I’ve served my purpose I’ll leave. But, just know until then, I’m staying. I have to stay. Please understand.”

Tim shivered as he felt a cold breeze behind him, but a quick glance told him no one was there. Maybe the spirit wasn’t listening?

“Master Tim?”

Tim jumped, whirling around to come face to face with Alfred. The butler was looking at him with something akin to worry.

“Are you alright, Master Tim? I heard you speaking.”

Tim stuttered, an embarrassed blush rising to his face at having been caught.

“I uh...yeah. I was just-”

Alfred looked passed Tim to Jason’s uniform, a sad look replacing the worry.

“I see. Master Bruce often does the same. He wallows in his guilt.” Alfred turned to Tim, a pointed look this time. “But perhaps you being here can remind him of why he chose to dawn the cape and cowl. He may seem distant and cold, but he’s just afraid of losing another partner so soon after his previous.”

Tim paused. “But Jason wasn’t just his partner. He was his son.”

Alfred’s eyes turned sad again, even if his tone didn’t betray it. “That he was, Master Tim. Now come along, it’s time for dinner.”

With one last look at the memorial, Tim followed after Alfred. Had he turned around, he would have seen what looked like a person looking up at the memorial as well.

 Jason thought death would have been the end of things. He thought he’d see a white light and then nothing.

He was wrong.

He found himself in the manor, watching, but not being able to interact.

He’s tried, oh how he’s tried to call out to them, to touch them.

But he couldn’t.

Instead he had to sit by and watch as this...this pretender all but demanded to be made Robin. As he replaced him as if Jason was nothing more than a fleeting thought.

He was smart, Jason would give him that. He was maybe 2 years younger than him, but already brilliant in a way Jason had to work to be. Jason was book smart, and he was clever. But Tim? Tim was the detective Bruce wanted him and Dick to be.

Jason decided that if he couldn’t be Bruce’s sidekick, no one could. Sure, maybe it was petty, but Jason died and got nothing more than his mask and cape hung up. Hell, it didn’t even look like Dick knew until recently.

Jason didn’t do anything that could seriously hurt the kid. He didn’t hate him enough to stoop that low. He just wanted him to stop being Robin.

But after that one sided conversation in the Batcave, Jason was second guessing his choices.

Tim was right. Jason saw how Bruce was jumping head first into his work, pushing everyone away. But if hurt him to think that he couldn’t help, and had to rely on Tim to do it.

So, he stopped. Well, he didn’t completely stop, he was still a bit petty, but he wasn’t as bad as he was before. Where before it was a matter of trying to get Tim to quit, now it was more of something to keep him occupied and just to be a little shit.

Tim did nothing more than roll his eyes as he had to collect his papers, or sigh as his cape seemed to have disappeared. But he seemed glad that Jason didn’t outright ignore him.

Jason could do without the conversations though.

Tim had taken Jason’s little pranks to be a sign of begrudging acceptance, and while he was right, Jason didn’t want him to be comfortable with the fact. But while Tim rambled away in tales of the Titans, or the night’s mission, Jason listened. There was no way Tim could know for certain that he was listening. With the exception of Raven and Constantine, Jason was pretty much invisible to everyone else. So how could Tim know he was there and still act like they were the best of friends?

It took Jason a minute to realize that Tim simply didn’t have anyone else. While Tim had friends like Kon and Bart, they didn’t understand what it meant to be Robin. They didn’t get the mental and physical torture and exhaustion being Batman’s partner meant.

So Jason listened. Even if Tim didn’t know he was, he did.

Jason slowly saw things change. He saw Dick try to be a better brother to Tim than he was for Jason. And at first, it was another thing that pissed Jason off, but after stumbling upon one of their conversations, Jason realized it was out of guilt. Jason had left half way through the conversation. After all, Dick cared about him enough to beat the Joker to death with his bare hands, he didn’t need to try to get between them.

And as he realized how much he meant to Bruce, Dick, Alfred, and even Tim, Jason found himself at peace. He was loved, finally. But there seemed to be one thing keeping him from moving on.

“Tim.”

Tim’s ramblings and Jason’s thoughts were cut short as Bruce stood in the doorway of his room. Bruce looked around, as if looking for the person Tim was talking to, but found nothing. He raised a single eyebrow before shaking his head, seeming to remember why he was there.

“Tim, tonight you aren’t partrolling with me.”

“Excuse me?” Tim asked. His tone was polite, as if he was just asking Bruce to repeat himself, but his eyes held defiance, a challenge Bruce took in stride.

“Your father is bound to a wheelchair, Tim. He needs you more than Gotham does. Go, I will call Nightwing if i need assistance.”

“Bruce, you can’t do this to me! I need to be out there, I need to-”

“You aren’t thinking straight.” Bruce interrupted, and Jason rolled his eyes as he remembered all those times Bruce was more Batman than Bruce. “Anger is clouding your judgement. I know you want revenge but it will not end well if you go after Captain Boomerang. There is a line you don’t cross. I’ve already experienced one sidekick crossing that line out of emotion, I don’t need another.”

Tim knew where this was going, and it filled him with an unexpected wave of anger. Grabbing his coat, he angrily shoved his hands into the sleeves.

“I’m not your son, I’m your partner. I think I’ve done enough to deserve some respect.” Tim all but pushed Bruce aside as he stormed out of the room. Tim paused, turning to Bruce. “Oh, and that night with Felipe Garzonasa? Jason didn’t push him. I’d know, I was there.”

With that, Tim stormed out. As he yanked the front door open, he could have sworn he felt something warm on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” Tim mumbled, as he left Wayne manor.

 Jason couldn’t bring himself to hate Tim. His initial anger now seemed childish, petty. He didn’t know Tim then, but as he learned more about the kid who took over Robin for him, the more he found himself interested in him.

Could ghosts fall in love? Jason didn’t need to eat, or sleep, but he could still feel emotions. That had to explain the protective feeling he had whenever Tim came home with so much as a scratch, or when Tim crawled into bed and silently trembled as he tried to sleep.

This didn’t compare to how he felt though, watching as Tim holed himself in his room, bawling his eyes out as he mourned his father.

And Jason could do nothing but watch.

“He’s dead, and it’s all my fault.”

Tim kept saying this, and Jason wanted so badly to tell him he was wrong, to tell him he was as much as a victim as Jason was, that the cape and mask just made them targets.

But he couldn’t, because he was dead.

When Tim finally exhausted himself to the point of drifting off, Jason put his ghost skills to work and gently covered him with a blanket.

Jason was a ghost, he couldn’t feel, but how would he explain the warmth that went through him when Tim sleepily mumbled “Thanks Jason,” then?

 Jason was gone.

Tim just knew. He was gone.

He couldn’t feel him anymore. It was hard to explain how he knew, but he knew.

Did he move on? Was he at peace?

Tim felt guilty for feeling a bit bitter. Now Jason was probably in a better place, and here he was being angry for feeling left alone.

Tim sighed, pushing the thoughts out of his head as he looked up to the bat computer. It had been some years since he first decided to seek out the bat. Jason’s spirit had become such a crucial part. Who would understand now? Who would he talk to without feeling judged?

The thoughts were once again pushed out of his head as a ping appeared on the bat computer. It took Tim just a few clicks before that ping became a location.

Crime Alley?

Nightwing was busy in Bludhaven, and Bruce was off planet on League business.

That just left him.

Snapping his cape into place and slipping on his mask, Tim was just a little annoyed. Who was making trouble when he wanted to just brood and sulk?

Ugh, he sounded like Bruce.

Tim shot his grapple hook, flying and gliding to the location. He knew this could very well be a trap, but his instincts told him it probably wasn’t. Gotham had been silent since the Joker and most of the other Rogues were in Arkham, no doubt planning their next escape.

Tim sighed, a never ending war, this was.

“Tim.”

Tim whirled around, batarang in hand and ready when a figure stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, and built. He had a red helmet over his head, and dressed head to toe in armor, as if he was a vigilante himself.

Slowly, the stranger reached up to press a button behind his helmet. It loosened with a soft click, and he pulled it off.

Tim felt the breath leave him.

In front of him, the man grinned, a crooked grin that was unfairly attractive, blue eyes crinkling in mirth.

“Long time no see, baby bird.”

The voice was deep and Tim had to resist the urge to shudder. Instead he grinned back.

“Nice to finally see you, Jason.”