#and b) Tim only puts up with it because of Jay probably

[shitty-mh-aus]

AU where every time someone gets in a car, it blasts California Girls and no one blinks an eye at it except at the very end when tim turns off the radio, cussing out the song.

.

[leclucklerc]

Something Immortal CL16 - 02. Bad Idea

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wayne!reader

Summary: Y/n Wayne knows that this is a bad idea. But well, going against the law is something that runs in the Wayne Family.

Word Count: 4.4K

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“Is B really going to buy an F1 team?”

Y/n looked up from the plate of dessert in front of her towards where Jason was sitting. The both of them are in the VIP lounge of the Monaco GP, waiting for the race to start before being ushered towards the Ferrari garage.

“What makes you say that?”

Jason gave her a pointed look. “I’m not dumb,” he said. “I can see a business talk even if it’s miles away.” At this, he pointed towards the paddock that could be seen from the windows in front of them.

They could see a glimpse of Bruce, laughing and talking with people with different team kits. Y/n recognized most of them as the team principals or even the management team from different F1 teams.

“Y/n, seriously, I don’t have time to become a driver,” said Jason. “And I’ll probably suck at it, most of these guys had been racing since they were in diapers.”

“Still,” defended the woman, fully aware that Jason’s argument was fairly logical. “You don’t have to be a driver, but I think being around Formula One, something that you’re passionate about, can help you, Jason.”

He doesn’t have to be a driver if he doesn’t want to. Hell, truthfully, if Jason really puts his foot down and strictly declares that no, buying a whole Formula One team is not going to help him, then y/n and Bruce will stop. The both of them will leave this silly idea behind and never look back once more.

But she had seen him. How his eyes followed every garage that they passed in rapid attention. How he attentively listened to what John had said about Ferrari’s Formula One team, how he had watched the free practice and qualifying alone the days before.

It’s been a while. Maybe the last time she saw him being this passionate about something was before his death. To see Jason looking forward to something, to see his brother actually enjoy doing something outside of his crime-fighting activities.

“I-“

“Jay,” she said again, reaching out to hold the older man’s hand. “I- I know we’re not the best family. B is not the best father and the rest of us have not been the best siblings but still I-“ she stopped at that, eyes searching for Jason’s own. 

Years of guilt appeared inside of her. Years of missing memories between the two of them. Years full of regret and anger that had soured their relationship beyond words. 

Y/n, only wants what is best for her brother. “I still want you to be happy,” she said, blue eyes with a hint of green meeting hers. “I want to see you laughing again, be integrated into society, and live your dream-!”

Jason looks lost and y/n is really glad that this section of the VIP lounge was reserved for them.

Because the man in front of her looks so fucking vulnerable. 

She still remembers that time when Jason just returned to Gotham. All Lazarus green eyes and rage oozing out of his form. How he had practically attacked Tim, taunting the rest of them, and begged their father to choose him over that clown.

Y/n also remembers the emptiness that appeared in his eyes when they informed him that the Joker was dead.

It was one of the most terrifying moments of her life. Because Jason had it made his mission to kill that clown. To avenge the fallen Robin that had remained unavenged. To finally end the reign of terror that the prince of clowns had put upon Gotham City.

To know that he’s dead?

Well.

There are just so so many things left unsaid between the two of them. Too much pain and history that had happened between the two of them. To see, Jason who had always raged and raged looking this lost is-

“I’ve been wondering-“ said Jason, leaning forward. “Ever since that clown died, I’ve been wondering what the fuck I should do with my life-“

It’s a familiar conversation. Something that Jason had told her months ago under the darkness of the night. When there are only the two of them on top of his safehouse rooftop, sharing a stick of cigarettes to fight off the cold.

Y/n leaned forward, touching their shoulder together. It’s something that they often did before Ethiopia all those years ago. When Jason was nothing but a short and skinny kid that’s not too far off y/n own size. 

It’s been years since Ethiopia and a lot of things have changed.

“Have you decided, Jay?” she asked, eyes closing and head leaning towards his shoulder. “Whatever you want, you know that we will support you.”

Jason was silent for a bit.

The female too, sat there in silence, giving the older male a chance to think it through.

“I still want to be Red Hood,” he whispered, far too low for anyone to hear except y/n. “I still want to make Crime Alley a better place for people to live in.”

Y/n has to fight off a smile at that. Such a typical answer for a bat. Such a typical answer for the son of Bruce Wayne.

“Yeah?” she said. 

Jason hummed. “But I also want to live my life.”

A smile appeared on y/n face. She can feel the excited thrumming of her heart as she continues to listen.

“Oh?” she asked. “And that is?”

“Going to university, getting an English degree,” at this, he stopped. “And living the dream F1 fan life ‘cause my family owned a fucking team here.”

Y/n laughed at that; happiness clear on her face.

Bruce got the honor to wave the checkered flag that marks the end of the Monaco GP.

Her dad looks pleased, but she also knows that inside of that large smile and laugh, her dad simply doesn’t care. This business trip to Monaco had been a risky move after all, if it’s not for Jason’s happiness, y/n doesn’t think her dad would even consider going on this business trip.

In the end, when her dad was handed the checkered flag, the man put the flag into Jason’s hand.

“Do you want to do it, Jay?”

Jason blinked. “Huh?”

“Waving the flag,” answered her dad, letting out a smile. “Instead of me, my son can do it, right?” asked Bruce, turning his head towards where the president of FIA and the chairman of Ferrari stood.

“Of course, of course!” Said Ben, the president of FIA. “It would be an honor for us!”

“But they literally asked for you” answered Jason.

Her dad merely laughed at that. “They said you can do it, son.”

Jason may look like as if he wants to protest, but y/n knows that the man is far too excited at the prospect of waving the checkered flag at the Monaco GP. He may grumble and curse her dad a few times, but he really can’t hide the happiness that’s shining through his eyes at the mere thought of it.

The older man too, seemed to notice his son’s excitement as he let out an indulgent smile as he watched her brother being escorted to his position.

“Jason looks happy,” she said. “It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

“I know,” murmured her dad. There was silence between the two of them before her dad leaned forward towards her a bit. “I saw you earlier.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow. “What?”

“I saw you flirting with one of the drivers,” replied her dad. “The Ferrari one.”

Ah, she thought. He was referring to Charles. “It was an act, Dad,” she simply said. “You know, like your Brucie Wayne persona? I just think that it will do us some good if we’re on a friendly term with the paddock.”

Her dad stared at her. “There are better ways to do that, like chatting with the FIA president, for instance,” replied the man as he turned his gaze toward where Ben and John were talking with Jason near the track. “I don’t think flirting with a driver will really help our cause.”

Y/n shrugged, “He’s cute, what can I say?”

“Y/n.”

“What?” she hissed out. “I have to watch you flirt with Selina the entirety of my life, let me flirt with cute boys for a change!”

“You know it’s different,” pointed out her dad, leaning closer towards her. “Don’t associate with anyone outside of the masked community.”

The woman rolled her eyes at that.

She knows that the older man has a point. She knows that he’s doing this in order to protect all of them. Not only his hidden identity, but the rest of the family and possibly the rest of the Justice League. Bruce has always put a tight leash on all of his children regarding the interaction and the social circle that they all kept. Most of the time, the man didn’t have to worry considering most of his children worked inside the masked community, resulting in most of their friends being another superhero.

But y/n?

Despite her close association and frequent presence in their nightly activity, she sometimes thinks that her dad forgets that she’s not a vigilante or a hero. Yes, she knows all of their secret identity, yes, she often assisted her brothers on their not-so-legal work.

Outside of all of that, y/n is a civilian. She’s just a normal doctor who’s not saving the world during her past time. She’s a normal woman that’s working in a perfectly legal job.

Friends are hard to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world. Friends are harder to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world who is also hiding the fact that he’s the dark knight himself.

“I know,” she hissed out. “It’s a persona dad, I doubt we’ll talk again.”

Her dad gave her a look as if he didn’t believe in that.

And well.

Um.

Charles won the Monaco GP. The first Monegasque driver to do so in the last 93 years. Jason had failed to hide his excitement as he waved the checkered flag.

Her family was there, right in front of the podium as they watched the Ferrari drivers and the McLaren driver celebrating the win that they acquired. Y/n was standing there, smiling politely as she watched the champagne shower that was happening in front of them.

It was also then, that their eyes met.

She was not sure if Charles was looking at her or at someone near her, but the man’s already wide smile had gotten wider as he locked his eyes with her. And it was also then, that Charles sent her a wink.

Huh.

Okay.

Oookay.

I’ll meet you later, he seems to mouth off, a bit quickly, before he continues the champagne shower with the rest of the drivers.

So much for not talking with him anymore.

“Hi, stranger.”

Y/n can’t help the quirk of her mouth at that greeting.

The woman turned her gaze towards the source of the voice, eyes immediately falling towards where Charles Leclerc stood next to her. There’s a smile on his lips, hair tousled and green eyes twinkling.

“Hello,” she greeted back, raising her glass of champagne. “Drink?”

Charles chuckled. “I had enough champagne for the day,” replied the male as he took a seat next to her.

She can’t help but laugh at that. “I mean, you won today,” answered the female, putting down the glass of champagne on top of the table in front of them. “How does it feel to be a Monaco GP race winner? And did you actually drink the champagne that’s being sprayed earlier?” Being sprayed with a bottle of champagne sure is an experience, it seems. 

“Amazing,” he breathed out, inching closer to her. “I guess a change of mindset is the only thing needed to break the curse.”

“I told you,” said the female, amusement dripping on her tone. “Guess I did become a really lucky girl today.”

“I hope so,” answered Charles. “I did remember your words throughout the race.”

“Oh? You did?” teased y/n. “Seeing Charles Leclerc win the Monaco GP live and being constantly on his mind? What a lucky girl I am.”

Charles let out a laugh at that.

The dinner party around them is buzzing with blaring music and drunken chatter. The event itself was hosted by WE and the FIA. A collaboration work between the two entity that marks the beginning of WE’s involvement in the motorsport industry. It was the reason why her dad – a reclusive who hardly leaves Gotham if he can help it – needed to do a business trip in Monaco.

And of course, for the simple reason of buying Jason an F1 team. 

Not that y/n is complaining. She had wanted to visit Monaco forever and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. Watching a Formula 1 race live is a bonus that she will never miss out on.

The dinner party that they hosted was the formal event that they made for the winners of the race. Though, it seems most of the drivers are in attendance. No doubt advised by each of their respective team to gain the elusive Wayne sponsorship.

She knows that the news of Bruce Wayne wanting to buy an F1 team or become a major sponsor had already made its rounds. Even the bigger teams who don’t really need more money came in order to make some kind of connection with Wayne Enterprise.

Truthfully, this dinner party made her nervous a bit. After all, it’s not like she attended a party outside of Gotham.

But still, Charles’s sudden presence helped ease up her nervousness for a bit.

“Where’s your brother?” asked Charles, eyes flickering around the room.

“Ah, Jason is not feeling well,” replied the female. “He decided to stay in our hotel.” Which is a blatant lie. Y/n knows that Jason brought his Red Hood gear all the way here. He’s probably prowling the streets of Monaco, searching for that gang boss who made him join this business trip to Monaco initially.

Charles hummed at that, taking a seat next to her.

“I heard you helped orchestrate this whole dinner party,” started the man.

Y/n laughed at that. “Orchestrating is a big word, considering me and my family just throw some money at the event organizer.”

“Still, I really like the red accents, it was as if you already know that Ferrari is going to win today’s race,” said the male as he gestured towards the red flower as well as the red napkins on top of the tables.

The woman grinned cheekily at that. “Who said I don’t? Maybe I have the power to see the future?”

Charles raised his eyebrows at that, amusement clear in his eyes. “Oh?” he prompted out, leaning forward. “Can you see my future then?”

Y/n hummed, mouth closing in a wide smile as she too, leaned forward. Both of their face are really close to each other. “Hm…” she let out. “I think… You’re going to be really drunk tonight.”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling. “It’s given,” he said, grinning.

“Really?” she said, sounding amused. “Do you want me to see further into your future?”

“You can?” asked Charles, with a tilt of his head, mouth still grinning. “What a fearsome power that you have.”

The female giggled. “I think I can see…” she whispered. “A future world champion here.”

Now, Charles is full-blown laughing, the glass of champagne that he had been holding now forgotten as he lets the amusement to envelop his very being. 

“Seriously,” he said the first part in French before he switched back to English, “You really know how to appease someone.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” said Charles. “You better be careful, or I’ll think that you’ve been flirting with me.”

It’s a bold thing to say, especially to Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

She knows that she’s one of the most desirable women in the marriage market, considering her looks and her family. Many people had attempted to flirt with her, to trap her with their honeyed words and kind gestures. 

But still, it’s been a while since there’s someone this bold.

“Well, I’ve been flirting with you,” replied y/n instead. “It would be embarrassing if you thought otherwise.”

Yeah, the moment she uttered those words, she knew that this was a bad choice to make.

Because at that moment, she could see the sparkle of interest in Charles’s eyes. The light that suddenly shone behind those green orbs as the man leaned forward toward her. Y/n could faintly smell the cologne that he wore, a masculine one that reminded her of her dad for a bit.

“Oh?” he said, mouth quirking up and eyes crinkling. “I’ve been flirting with you too, if you haven’t noticed.”

Okay, this isn't good. She needs to stop this before they go further and ignite her dad’s anger. 

“I see,” answered y/n with a smile. “Anyway Mr. Future World Champion, I think your team principal is looking for you-“

It was the perfect excuse because she really did have seen Fred wandering around the room in search of his driver. However, whatever she was going to say stopped immediately when a hand reached out to grab her wrist. She immediately looked down, staring at Charles’ palm.

“Hey,” said the male, grinning. “Wanna go somewhere fun?”

She should say no.

Y/n can already imagine her father’s disappointed sigh and the loud protest from her brothers. She can already see her doing the walk of shame tomorrow, with Jason silently judging her. It would be stupid of her to say yes because there are just so many consequences waiting for her if she took up that offer.

There’s literally no reason for her to say yes to someone that she barely knows.

But well-

Charles looked at her with those bright green eyes of his, the corner crinkling up from how wide his smile was. There’s something about his expression – so transparent, so genuine, something that she rarely saw in Gotham – that tickled her heart at the right place.

Maybe it’s the dimpled smile, maybe she was simply swept up by the moment.

But the next thing that she knew was-

“Yes,” she answered.

The smile that Charles let out can ignite the room.

The music is loud. Louder than what she used to.

There’s a huge misconception of her back in Gotham. Due to her father’s public persona, as well as her brother’s less-than-idle nature, the media had portrayed her as a party girl once upon a time.

But really, this is the first time for her to be in a club.

Clubs are not that common to start with in Gotham. Due to the high crime rate, and the many many dangers, clubs scarcely exist in the city. Galas though? Galas happens almost every week. Due to that, y/n only ever attended galas and galas.

So this, this is a new experience for her.

She could see the throngs of people around her, dancing and laughing, fully immersed in the music around them. There’s something about the air that just made everyone highly excited as if there’s no tomorrow.

It didn’t take long for her to be swept up by the atmosphere too.

 “So, how are you enjoying the night?” Yelled Charles as the two of them laughed and danced in the middle of the dance club. Y/n was glad that she had opted for a short dress because really, the ball gowns that she used to wear for galas will be sticking out like a sore thumb in this kind of scene.

 “It’s been fantastic!” answered the woman, amidst the loud music. Her mouth is a bit aching from how wide she’s been grinning but that really can’t dampen her mood. “It’s not my usual scene, but I guess a change of environment is not that bad.”

“Oh? Gotham doesn’t have a lot of parties?” laughed Charles, hand finding themselves around her wrist.

She stepped closer, face almost touching. “Mostly galas, or gatherings,” said y/n, letting out a shrug, before a grin overtook her face once again. “It’s not exactly safe to throw a wild party like this in a city like Gotham after all.” 

Something flickered in Charles’ eyes as he let out a hum.

“So,” started the woman, wanting to change the subject of the conversation. She leaned forward, cocking her head for a bit. “Is Monaco nightlife had always been this lively?”

“It is when it’s my party,” said the man, as they stepped out of the dance floor towards the bar.

Ordering for the both of them, Charles sidled close to her.

“You’re really trying to get drunk tonight?” teased the woman.

“Not too much,” replied the man. “I wanna remember you.”

She hummed. “Well, what’s stopping you?” she asked. “Don’t you think we should make more memories then?”

Charles turned to her, and the grip that he had around her waist tightened.

“Oh?” he said, voice lower. “Are you sure?”

The grin that she lets out must’ve been enough of confirmation because the next thing that she knew, they’re stumbling into Charles’ Ferrari, lips interlocked with each other in a desperate and sloppy make-out session.

She’s grateful that the parking space is located in a discreet place because her appearance right now is less dignified than what Bruce Wayne’s daughter should be. Though, she really can’t seem to care right now. All she knows is the taste of Charles’ lips on her and how his hand traveled all across her body, giving her a delicious tease of pleasure.

They fell into bed together.

That night had been a bit of a blur, to be honest. He remembers dancing with y/n, laughing, and touching her under the club lights. He remembers dragging her to the edge of the dance floor, head leaning forward.

“Can I?” he had muttered, head cocking sideways.

Y/n had let out a laugh at that, hands winding around his neck before she too, leaned forward.

He remembers the sweet taste of her mouth, how she had opened her mouth, letting their tongue meet in a wet mess. How his hands had wandered around, starting from her back before reaching downwards towards the edge of her short dress.

“Let’s take this somewhere,” muttered y/n back then, releasing his mouth with a string of droll still connecting them. “Somewhere more private,” the last part was whispered and he remembers the jolt of arousal that hit him at that very moment.

Charles doesn’t have a clear memory of how they managed to get into his apartment. All he remembers is how he pinned y/n by his front door, savoring her as they rutted against each other like a teenager. 

The night ended with them on his bed, rustling against each other and-

Charles cracked his eyes open, watching the sun filter into his room from the crack of his curtain.

He could feel the pounding headaches as the memories from last night rushed into him like a tsunami. Of him winning the Monaco GP, of him attending the formal dinner, of him and y/n stumbling into bed together-

His eyes widened as he immediately turned his gaze toward the other side of the bed.

Sitting there, still topless with a blanket covering her, is y/n Wayne, brow furrowed as she scrolled something on her phone. That sight immediately warmed something across his heart as he stared at the woman silently, not wanting to avert his gaze for a second.

“You’re awake?” asked y/n, turning her gaze towards him.

He let out a hum, shuffling closer towards her.

At that, y/n’s hand fell on top of his head, caressing his unruly mop of hair. It’s soothing, something that he really needs amidst the headache that’s been throbbing inside of his head. They stayed like that for a couple of moments, basking in each other presence.

The moment didn’t last long because y/n phone rang.

“Yeah?” asked the woman before she stared at him for a moment before she began talking in a language that he didn’t understand.

Charles faintly recognizes it as German. He knows a couple of words, but with the way y/n talking as if she’s a native speaker, well, it’s safe to say that he really doesn’t have a clue about what she’s talking about. The phone call didn’t last long. Only a couple of minutes at best. Though, at the end, y/n let out a sigh.

“Something wrong?” he asked, sitting up.

“Charles, listen,” stated the woman. “This is a bit awkward, but I gotta go.”

He ignores the disappointment that erupted inside his chest. The driver had been hoping that they could have breakfast together before taking a stroll around Monaco before he had to see her off.

“I really enjoyed last night but-“

Before she can even finish that sentence, Charles interrupts her again. “Can I see you again?”

Y/n blinked, staring at him. “Yes?”

“See you again,” said the driver, leaning closer. “I really enjoyed last night. More than simply enjoying it,” he continues. “I like to do it again.”

The woman is still staring at him.

“Of course, I mean not only fucking, but like, I would love to have a date with you,” he continue, tongue a bit tied at the sight of an angel in front of him. “If you give me the chance?”

Honestly, he was not expecting much. A woman like y/n must have had a lot of suitors or partners all her life. Charles will be the luckiest man on earth if y/n even gives him a chance for a single date, let alone dating her.

It was silent for a bit, as the both of them stared at each other with no words being exchanged.

The moment was broken when y/n let out a loud laugh.

It startled him a bit, Charles doesn’t really understand what’s funny about his declaration and yet, he doesn’t really mind it. After all, the sight of y/n letting out such a carefree laugh is something that he will integrate into his memory forever.

“Yeah,” said the woman, finally. “Let’s see each other again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” grinned the woman. “But next time, bring me to a proper date, okay?”

Charles laughed at that, giving her a single kiss.

taglist!

@piceous21 @myloveforfandom-blog @barnestatic @ilivbullyingjeongin @fangirl-dot-com @halleest @a-beaverhausen @sagestack @redcellghost @mac-daddy-210 @kellysthilaire

[jumping-joey1104]

I write so much for Sreepypasta I have to do something for Slenderverse. Gotta reign in both fandoms to my hell-site of a blog SO

Slenderverse Crack Headcanons

(Includes EverymanHybrid, Mlandersen0, TribeTwelve, and Marble Hornets)

EverymanHybrid

Evan is the kind of guy to use any nearby container to fill with energy drinks

Dude has definitely used an empty bleach bottle to fill with a cursed concoction of Monsters and Red-Bull

Only drinks the lo-carb monster because "it's healthier"

Vinny would've been a twitch streamer if EverymanHybrid took place nowadays

The closest person I could compare with how he acts on stream is Philza

Has gotten doxxed like 3 times now but he does not care

Jeff would stream with Vincent but only plays minecraft, and is ten times better at it than anyone else

Probably has a discord server and for some reason he made Evan admin and now everyone calls him senpai

He knows what it means and hates it, He has a separate channel to put Evan and his associates by crime in and locks them in there

Alex is the one that started it all

MLAndersen0

Nobody knows where Michael got his ugly ass curtains, and he refuses to say where he go a sheet of pure denim fabric

He would have so many fidget toys, he just likes the little clicks, and yes he would throw them at Shaun like a latina mother and her chanclas

For some reason this man can make a mean drink, coffee, alcohol, hell even koolaid. You ask him for a drink he's bringing you a margarita

Shaun would play Call of Duty, all of the games. He plays them

Goes into extensive research on what slurs he can reclaim so he could bully kids online with a good conscience

"What slurs can I reclaim if my brother is a psychopath?" And Stormy just looks at him with fear

Speaking of Stormy she can outdrink both men, one time Michael dared them to take a shot of 99 proof and she took three

She quotes vines all the time, regularly asks Michael "Where's the B" and he doesn't understand at all

Shaun understands her and they quote vines together while Michael cries in confusion

Eric Cyberbullies Micheal with pictures of cups dangerously close to the edge of a surface

Tribetwelve

Noah has gone three days without sleep, slams down a sugar-free redbull and passed out in his kitchen before and blames the collective

Dude was a huge party guy in Highschool but always ended up sitting in a corner petting the dog at the party

This raggedy ass man loves the resident evil movies and says their peak cinematography, refuses to take any other suggestions

Kevin is peak stoner mode, and has tricked Noah into eating edibles before. By tricked I mean he left them out and Noah ate half of them before he was caught

Dude is the WORST tripsitter btw, he's the type of guy that would smoke a blunt and go "Do you think god loves us" before putting on a horror movie

Dude can handle marijuana perfectly but can only drink one cup of alcohol before getting black out, absolute lightweight

Milo has watched so much anime, so much. He has at least eleven shirts revolving around Sailor Moon and Beserk.

He's never watched Beserk he just likes the art, Noah and Kevin refuse to tell him what it is. They just wait until he finds out.

Probably the best at drawing out of all of them, he just has the gift of art and abuses it. His journal has a ton of different doodles

All three suck at Mario Kart but still play it together, yes it ends up with Kevin and Noah fighting while Milo wins the race

Marble Hornets

Tim is so tired of everyone, all the time. If given the choice he will mentally destroy everyone but Brian says no.

Definitely can quote all of Hamilton and says he would play Aaron Burr just so because he knows all his lines. He's a silent theater nerd

Brian is a loud theater nerd, one time he yelled at Alex "You see the stage to your left? Keep walking till you hit a wall."

Whenever he comes to practice with Tim he'll have two of the same drinks so he can give one to Tim.

Jay is so dumb, bless his soul. He forgets words and just randomly replaces them to the men's horror. "I wanted to have eggs for breakfast but I couldn't find my Skittle"

Tim and Alex are the only ones that understand him, but Alex makes fun of him "You mean skillet?"

Alex get picked on so much by them, Tim calls him cringe and he'll cry in the bathroom for 15 minutes before saying a comeback

He is for sure one of the most sarcastic jerk you would ever meet even if he tried to be nice

Poor Jessica is just standing there the whole time, she's the single mother of three sons and she knows it.

Both her and Amy are so tired of trying to keep the men from getting arrested when they're recording

[ultfreakme]

https://www.tumblr.com/ultfreakme/725369013713223680/thoughts-on-the-possibility-of-jay-wearing-the-s

this was hypothetical i don’t mean to get your hopes up 😭😭 it’s just that i’ve been thinking about this idea lately. well, i’ve been thinking about the timbern thing of bernard giving tim the B necklace and it got me thinking, like do you ever think Jon thinks about asking if jay would add the symbol to his suit? probably not but i also feel like he’d be so happy if it ever did happen, not like he’d ever put that kind of pressure on jay though.

ohhoho or do you think jay may ever (temporarily) feel like he has to earn it? or if jon never offers it to him, that maybe he’s done something wrong? i feel like there’s so much angst that could come out of it but honestly, all i really think about is that jon would just love seeing jay wear it

Oopsie I jumped to conclusions XDXD. I kinda think Jon already gave him a symbol adjacent to the superfam and himself-- Jay's belt, and the Legion ring. And Jay kind of had to accept them because, defeating Bendix but I think had Jon asked outside of the tough situation, Jay would've accepted. I think if he got the gifts at a different time then yeah Jay might've felt like he had to earn it a little because the 'Superman' title and the 'S' have a different kind of weight to it now that Superfam is so public in their solidarity. Like yes batfam are there, and Robin is important, but when it came to the timber gift exchange, it was more about them together as a couple, but with the superfam 'S', it's like Jay would be accepting to not only become a part of Jon's life, but also accept the responsibilities and ties that come with superfam( representing directly truth, justice, and a better tomorrow'.

If Jon hadn't given anything....hmm....I do wonder if Jay expects gifts from Jon, or if he even really wants to be under the 'S'. Yes he's superfam but he's also got his own symbol and things going on so idk if he'd really expect it or want it? especially after project blackout where he seems visibly upset about being publicly known as 'superman's boyfriend'.

In return if Jay gave Jon something related to The Truth, that's also a responsibility. So both ways, it'd have this underlying implication of duty beyond just the relationship, while with TimBer the B is just, "hey I love you here's a reminder of me".

I think if jonjay did want to give exchanges and gifts, it'd have to be unrelated to superfam, the truth, or the revolutionaries. Their names, their initials, etc.

Also yes 100% Jon would LOVE seeing Jay in the S like he's just thinking about how nice he looks(Jay in Jon's new jacket please????)

[liquid-luck-00]

Truth / Lies

Bio!Dad Bruce

Bio!Dad Masterlist ~~~ Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette slipped out of the apartment early the next morning. She ran through the city, the early morning air stung her skin, waking her up more with each step.

Last night was a whirlwind and she didn't let herself think about it. But now she was.

Three months, almost four.

She has only known she was a Wayne for four months.

If this had happened sooner. She shuddered at the thought, yet it still flitted across her mind. She would have married her brother had this happened sooner.

Would she have recognized Damian from the 10 seconds she spent looking at his photo that day. No, she wouldn't and that thought terrified her. If it happened before then, she wouldn't even know she had a brother.

Would Bruce have recognized her, maybe, but then again that was assuming he knew what she looked like. And knowing what and how this happened, they wouldn’t have even met until after the fact.

She didn't even realize she had made her regular circuit until she was back in front of their apartment building. She opened the door and made her way up.

Hopefully Tim was gone, and they wouldn't need to explain last night.

She opened the door and there was not only Tim, but also Dick, Jason, and Bruce. At the table was a statuesque Damian.

"How much did they get out of you?" She tentatively asked.

"They threatened to call Manhunter." Was his answer.

Okay they know nothing, but oh no, oh no, oh no. She sat next to Damian turning into statue number two.

"Mini, the two of you disappeared last night what happened." Dad tried to stay calm, but his patience must have been tested by Sol already.

"Two truths, one lie." She side eyed Damian.

"We were in Nanda Parbat." Damian started.

"We avoided one mind numbing wedding." Marinette continued.

"The order has a larger moral back-bone than the league."

"You two aren't seriously playing this game to stall, are you?!" Tim seemed close to a mental breakdown. Then again, he hasn't slept in a week, so them disappearing may be the straw that broke him.

"Nanda Parbat and the league are tied so 1 and 3 are true." Jason figured.

"I would agree if this wasn't the second time, they said they avoided a wedding." Tim sighed.

"But it doesn't add into any of the others." Dick added.

"This morning their excuse was they were avoiding a wedding." Tim supplied.

"The truths are 1 and 2." Dad spoke definitely.

"Care to fill in the rest of the class B." Jason scoffed.

"Mini looks down for a fraction of a second when she lies, and she didn't when she said 2. Leaving 1 or 3 as the lie. Damian doesn't have a tick but using what he said 1 is true." He explained.

"There is no way for them to make that round trip in such a short time." Dick thought aloud. "Unless the order is filled with magic users. Meaning it is possible. And kidnapping kids could count as a lower moral backbone."

"Okay, so you're right, but kidnapping isn't the reason the League has a larger moral compass." Marinette assured.

"Do we want to know why the League of fucking Assassins has a larger moral backbone than an order of supposedly good magicians?" Jay was the one to speak the question on everyone's mind.

"Well if not saying or attempting to stop marrying two underage people is any indication." Damian scoffed.

"I honestly think it was their idea in the first place." Marinette mused aloud.

"Please for the love of god tell me you two weren't the ones getting married." Tim finally put it together.

"We avoided one hell of a headache inducing wedding. What do you think." She confirmed exasperated.

In a second (4) Errors could be seen on the faces of their family.

"Mini how long will it take to get to the league with Kaalki?" Dad was the first to recover, but his voice was eerily level, scarier than his even tone as Batman.

"Instantaneously, but someone who knows it better should be the one opening the portal." She responded quickly.

"Give the glasses to your brother. Damian open a portal."

Neither of them put up a fight, doing exactly as they were told. Not 20 seconds later all six of them were back in the middle of the League of Assassins following a clearly pissed off Bruce Wayne.

Thank kwamii that everyone else seem to know exactly where they were going in this compound because she sure didn’t. She walked right next to Damian the entire time and they were both watching their fathers back.

Twist and turns one after another and they finally came to what she can only describe as a throne room. When she saw the piece of shit that is Damian's maternal grandfather once again.

"Ra's." Was all her father stated. It is no exaggeration when she says that the color drained from that man’s face. She apparently wasn’t the only one contemplating exactly what had gone down last night. And the inevitable reaction of her family. What she failed to notice however, but her father didn’t was next to him was the same monk, still there. "Name." He ordered.

"Su-Han." He still spoke with dignity, but fear crept into his voice and stance.

"What the fuck did you try to do to my kids." Bruce growled in that instant she stopped breathing.

"Holy shit did Bruce just..." Jason stage whispered to Dick. However, she still couldn’t breathe and just watched the exchange. If she didn’t know her father’s rule to not kill, she would think he would be about to kill both Ra's and Su-Han, but she did know that rule. She’s pretty sure her father my break it though.

---

Bruce immediately was in a state of shock.

As Batman he had contingencies and plans in place for everything and anything. But this, this never was a probable scenario ever.

Once his shock faded, he saw red, he was absolutely livid. Children, his children, were almost married, for what. A feud that neither knew even existed.

"Mini how long will it take to get to the league with Kaalki?" His voice was dead even, attempting and failing to keep his anger in check. Thank God Hawkmoth was no more.

"Instantaneously, but someone who knows it better should be the one opening the portal." She responded quickly.

"Give the glasses to your brother. Damian open a portal."

Mini handed Damian the glasses, who immediately opened a portal. He walked through with his kids in tow, but he did not stray from his warpath. He found Ra's and another man, who wore the symbol on Mari's box.

"Ra's." Was all he said, knowing he had the man's attention the moment he entered. He showed no attempt to be bored. or uninterested. In fact, if it didn't seem impossible, Bruce would go so far as to say he was scared. He then looked over at the second man. "Name." He spoke again.

"Su-Han." He still spoke with dignity, but fear crept into his voice and stance.

"What the fuck did you try to do to my kids." Bruce demanded.

"It is not like you to visit." Ra's seemed to dance around his question.

"Why my kids?!" His voice rose and patience dwindled. So much so he didn't notice his two youngest slipped out of the room. While the older three seemed to be eating cookies and pastries, watching the show.

"Them being related was an unforeseen factor." Su-Han answered. "For there to be peace the two organizations needed to be unified."

"And both of you rubbed your cumulative two brain cells together and thought marrying two kids together is a valid response."

It was Ra's turn to speak. "Both of your children happen to be the next in line to command both respective organizations. Marriage was simply a contract between the two individual organizations to maintain peace. Although that failed to occur."

"Why did marriage come before I don't know, a god damn Peace treaty." He stopped to breathe.

"Given our history." Su-Han tried to make a point, but he didn't let him.

"You want history, I hear they have been around since the time of the Ancient Egyptians and the Ancient Babylonian Empires."

Both men stood there seemingly trying to formulate any response that could work. “Marriage was the most reliable method to promote unity between the two.”

"Bullshit, you both wanted something quick and easy." An explosion was heard in the compound, sending Ra's into a fighting stance. "You both wanted to make it their responsibility to keep the peace. And when it would fail you would use it as an excuse to return to fighting one another."

A full minute of pure silence when no one so much as moved drawled on. Until the doors opened, and in walked his children, as a fox and a horse with two Kwamii in front of them.

"Are you two the ones responsible for the explosion?"

They looked at one another, then back at him. Damian was the one who answered. "Yes."

"What did you four do?" He asked, although he only did so more out of obligation than curiosity.

"We may have destroyed all the Pools of Miracles." Tikki flew forward and answered.

"You destroyed the Lazarus Pits / Pools!" Was shouted by Ra's and Su-Han.

"Yes, so it's magic cannot be further twisted." Mari stood firm.

"And for the monks to stop using it to extend their lives." Damian added.

"Can I spite them now?" A cat Kwamii he never met before asked him.

"I should be more disappointed, but I'm not." He sighed. "Go on ahead."

"Pigtails your family is the best." The cat cheered. "Now for you two."

The best way to explain what he did was that he phased through each of their hearts and floated on back. The entire time he were a grin that rivaled the cheshire cat.

"Plagg, what did you do?" Tikki tentatively asked.

"What's the fun in telling you now. Plagg cackled. With that they all left, back to Paris. Never mess with his kids, because one they can God damn take care of themselves and two, he may not kill but he will supervise if even one of them is hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky @tazanna-blythe @tired-butterfly @lozzybowe @smolplantmum @queencommonsense @loopingtangent @chez-pezeater @paintedhope7 @technicallyburninggarden @meme991001 @wannajointhecrabcult @melicmusicmagic @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @fidget-eep @miraculouslydumb @iamablinkmarvelarmy @laurcad123 @hauntedwintersweets @fc-studios @fusser90 @madking-warqueen @buginetye @little-lady-bird @thebooki3h @iamabrownfox @galla02006 @syrencall @gimpedmercy

[iwritebadthings]

100 Things Will Smith Could've slapped instead of Chris Rock

Will Smith slapped for love so I’m slapping this ever older topic with my long E.T fingers. Should you slap someone? No, probably not. I wouldn’t recommend it. Often slapping someone tends to make things worse but that being said lets pretend what else he could’ve slapped if it was limitless.

Hitler

The Editorial Board of (any news organization)

Hillary Clintons need to be heard

Whoever said Pelosi should write a poem

Donald Trumps Ass

Superman

Isis

The KKK and the fashion director

Sith

Mosquitoes

people at the gym who sit on their phone not using the machine

Josh Hawley as he put his fist up on January 6th

Milo Yiannopoulos to make him gay again

Dick Cheney

Elden Lord Bosses I can’t beat (all of them)

George RR Martin so he will write faster

The Lich King

Elon Musk’s Bank account so we can all pick up the money off the ground like peasants

The primordial earth 

All the dinosaurs

Ted Bundy 

Anyone who wrote a letter to Ted Bundy

Putin

Racism formed into an evil god

Richard B. Spencer after he was already punched

Jesus but the slap brings him back to life

The concept of war

Journalists who want nuclear war

Glenn Greenwald every time he says the word Russia

Tucker Carlsons home windows so he has to spend hours cleaning

Godzilla

Maxine Waters for shoving and murdering Michael Tracey

Transphobia

The world of Harry Potter

Disneyland Prices

The homophobia out of Dave Bronson of Anchorage Alaska

Winter

The gay need to take a selfie

Kanye West each time he complains about Kim

Remixed music that only adds clapping

Pregnancy pictures 

Kathy Griffin so she has another story to share

The American forefathers 

Chris Rock again

The Rock and Vin Diesel well they fight

The Shark from Jaws

Cheeks

The beat for any song

God

Chris Rocks shadow self

Lactose Intolerance

The Poor

The Rich

Willow Smiths hand because her music career is fantastic

The walls of a house where the Ghost Adventures bros are walking around being scared

Another comedian with a bad joke

The ninth cup of coffee out of someone's hand

Naraku’s decapitated head after he tries to flee in battle

Alex Jones really thick neck

Meat 

Tim Pool’s beanie

Captain America’s Ass

Chris Evans Ass

Thanos

The Marvel Universe to end it all

Gwyneth Paltrow vagina candle

Adam Carolla for every bad joke

Julius Caesar after he was stabbed

Someone in need of cpr 

Independence day alien ship

Abusive League of Legend players

Britney Spears Dad

Medusa 

Zeus 

Cher after she says do you believe in life after love

someone who won’t wake up after their alarm goes off

The Terminator 

Jay Z for thinking even for a second he should cheat on Beyoncé

U2 for putting an album on everyone's phone

Nicki Minaj cousin in Trinidad to help his balls

Lorne Michaels for every bad snl sketch which is most of them

Corporations that advocate for the gays and then donate to people who would alt delete them

Secretly gay republicans who use glory holes

The opponent in the new Olympic slapping sport

Marsha Blackburn’s hair

Devimon in digimon for each pun made

people who steal memes

NFT People

Scammers of NFT

People who ignore the scamming of NFT

NFT celebrities  

Anyone who says they are “just asking questions” as they push conspiracy theories and not actually try to answer the question

The chess game you’re losing

Martha who is being racist to the waiter after church

Lucifer

The governments incredibly slow process of getting anything done

Santa for giving you coal every Christmas 

The Gym crush for not crushing you

E.T

Will Smith

[flaminpumpkin]

Small treasures

“Five more minutes,” Bruce grumbled as he distantly heard the door open through his sleepy haze.

There was some shuffling sound around the room and then it was flooded with bright morning light as Alfred mercilessly opened the heavy curtains, the rays of sunshine hitting the Bat right in the face, making him scramble for the covers to hide his sensitive eyes. 

“Very well, Master Bruce. Breakfast will be ready for you in the kitchen.”

He was so used to Alfred’s barely hidden exasperation after all these years that his words took longer than usual to register with Bruce. A frown appeared on his face as he finally realized what was wrong with the butler’s statement. 

Alfred never served breakfast – or any meal for that matter – in the kitchen. 

He would rather shoo everyone out with a spatula full off batter than let anyone eat where he cooked. Bruce couldn’t even count the number of times he had seen Dick or Tim appear in the dining room with a sheepish look, a thoroughly exasperated Alfred hot on their heels. 

Pushing the sheets away just enough to uncover his head, Bruce peeked over his shoulder at the still open door, eyebrows knitting further in confusion. 

“What?”

Something caught his eyes. 

There was a piece of yellow paper on the nightstand. An origami bat, he realized after finally deciding to emerge from the sea of sheets and pillows he had buried himself in during his sleep. He reached for it and took the little paper animal gingerly between his fingers, eyes focusing enough to read “unfold me” written in elegant cursive right at its center. 

Bruce did as he was told.

Dear Master Bruce, 

My words most probably confused you as the kitchen is a place I do not tolerate for anyone to eat in. But, need I remind you, there always has been one peculiar occasion where I allowed you to do so.

A.

Bruce stared at the note, confusion growing. 

Oh.

His eyebrows raised a bit, pleasantly amused. There was indeed one occasion Alfred would let him eat in the kitchen while he worked. What did the kids put Alfred to this time? 

Led by his curiosity, Bruce climbed off the bed, fully awake now as he put on a shirt, and padded out of the bedroom, towards the kitchen. 

No one was there when he arrived, which wasn’t odd per say but he had learned to be cautious over years of attempted surprise parties. There was a plate though, on the little table, with French toasts that smelled like butter and cinnamon and a cup of coffee with probably enough sugar and cream that it didn’t even taste like coffee anymore.

It was a breakfast Alfred had always prepared for him on the morning of his birthday after his parents’ death. He would put the plate on this same table and work silently as Bruce happily ate, the two of them sharing the same space in the simplest way. It wasn’t a grand gesture but it had meant the world to him nonetheless.

Another little origami bat was waiting for him, propped against the cup. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Bruce put it aside before starting to eat, careful not to stain the paper with coffee or grease, only taking it again once he had cleared the table and washed his hands. He unfolded it with the same care as the first.

My happy place. 

(Took a piece of bread. Alfred said yes. Thank you.)

Cass

The dance studio on the third floor. 

A while back, Bruce had decided to redesign one of the biggest rooms on that floor in a place where Cass could dance that wasn’t the ball room. He had wanted for it to be a place only for her, where she could express herself and spend time however she pleased, without anyone bothering her. His greatest recompense had been the radiant smile on her face before she had locked himself in there and played music until late that night. 

The next course of action wasn’t too hard to guess so Bruce quickly folded the paper back into its bat form, slid it in the pocket of his pajama pants, along the first one, and headed for the next place.

As expected, he found another bat in Cass’s dance studio, tucked into the folds of a bright orange knitted scarf. There was a running joke between his kids saying that it was because Bruce always forgot to take a scarf with him during winter that his Batman voice sounded so bad.

One thing was for sure, he would not forget this one.

Hey B, remember that time you told me you were proud of me and then proceeded to suffocate me with your muscles? Just kidding, you give great hugs. Like, super comfy, 10/10. But yeah, go there next.

Steph :p

He huffed at Stephanie’s words, eyes rolling with fondness. He remembered perfectly what she was referring to. 

The young woman had been staying in the manor for a few days that time, Alfred being keen on keeping her under careful observation after she had been hit with a new type of fear gas while on patrol with Dick. She had continuously apologized to Bruce, blaming herself for Dick’s injuries. 

Until the third day, where he had found her reading in the library, curled up in one of the love seats. Before she could utter a word, he had crouched down and grabbed her hands firmly.

“You do not need to apologize or blame yourself for anything, do you hear me? You managed to drag Dick and yourself out of this building while under the influence of fear gas when most would have stayed frozen in place. I’m sure he will agree that a few scratches and broken bones are far better than what would have awaited him if you hadn’t been there. I’m proud of you, Stephanie Brown. More than you’ll ever know.”

After that, she had thrown herself at him and Bruce had hugged her for the better part of an hour until Alfred had come to fetch her for some blood analysis. 

This time, when he walked into the next place of this little treasure hunt, he found a laptop, sitting open on the table next to one of the windows. The windows of the library were wide and high and the spot where the next gift awaited was one of his favorites. 

So he let himself sink in the armchairs cushions and started to play the video.

“You better not ruin this, Todd,” Damian was saying, standing next to the piano in the lounge of the west wing, violin already positioned on his shoulder.

Jason was scowling at the piano in front of him, focused.

“Just take the lead, brat. I’ll follow.”

“Could you two focus, please?” Tim said off camera.

The other two huffed with the same affronted look towards the camera.

Then the melody started and both of their faces softened. It was gentle, melancholic. Almost sad if you asked Bruce. But he listened with a smile on his face, bemused at the sight of his two quick tempered sons playing with a soft kind of intensity together, Jason following Damian’s lead flawlessly – probably the result of hours of practice. It was truly beautiful and he knew that the melody was one of Damian’s compositions. 

But it was over too soon for Bruce’s taste so he played it a second time, closing his eyes. And then a third as he read the next message, only heading for the next place once it was over.

Blah blah blah, some cute shit about us bonding, blah blah blah. Just get your ass to the garage old man.

Ps: Remember your Aston Martin? I think I scratched it a bit but I’ll blame it on Timmy anyway. 

Jay.

Bruce knew exactly which car Jason was talking about (and knew perfectly that he didn't scratch it). An Aston Martin DB5 he had inherited from his father. Nobody had driven it in ages when Jason had brought it up during dinner one evening, not long after he had taken him in. 

“Isn’t that James Bond's car?”

“It is. But it’s been so long since the last time I used it, I’ll probably need to pop open the hood before anything else if I want to drive it again.”

“Can I help you fix it?”

Jason’s eyes had been so full of hope and excitement when he had asked Bruce. He had laughed before agreeing. The next day, Alfred had had to come and pry them away from the car for lunch because both of them had forgotten about eating in their eagerness. 

He noticed a tape case on the board as he approached, in front of the wheel. Bruce opened the door and climbed in so he could reach for it easily. On the piece of paper tucked between the clear case and the tape, Bruce could see every song scribbled, one in each of his children’s handwriting. He recognized a song by The Clash in Tim’s handwriting – of course – and Midnight Sonata in Damian’s. The other titles and artists were mostly lost on him, except maybe for that Belgian one Cass listened to a lot.  

I can’t count the number of times I fell asleep there while you worked and you had to carry me back to my room.

Dick

Bruce couldn’t recount either.

Although he remembered fondly the first time Dick had fallen asleep in his study, curled up in one of the seats across his desk while he worked on some urgent papers for WE. They both had been so young. Bruce being completely new to parenthood, he had seeked out Alfred who had only fixed him with a blank stare before sending him back.

“Don’t you dare wake up this child, Master Bruce.”

He had actually managed to pick up the gangly child without waking him up, even if rather awkwardly, and had carried him all the way to his bedroom uneventfully. Only to trip on one of Dick’s schoolbooks once there, nearly dropping him. 

They had both elected not to mention it to Alfred and, to this day, it was still something only the two of them knew about.

When he arrived at his study, another message was waiting for him in the seat Dick used to sleep in, along with a gift card for that 24 hours coffee shop that had opened recently in downtown Gotham. Bruce let out a breathy laugh at that.

I know you always listen when I play, Father. Why do you think I leave my door open when I do?

D. Wayne

And here he thought he had been smooth. However, he should have expected that his son would pick up on his habit of passing by his room while he rehearsed with his violin. 

But Bruce couldn’t resist the pull in his chest. Damian was a gifted player, just like Jason, able to translate raw emotions in barely a few notes. It always put his mind at ease, smoothed out his most troubled thoughts even for only a few moments. He had caught everyone at least once, standing outside of his youngest’s door, listening to soft melodies in a rare moment of peace. 

It was silent moments shared with everyone, brought together by Damian's deft fingers. Something he had been doing knowingly and willingly apparently. It made it all the more special for Bruce.

There was no gift when he went searching for the next clue in Damian’s room. Or so he thought.

Sitting on his son’s music-stand along with yet another yellow origami bat, was an open partition. It was still in work, Bruce could tell. Notes were hastily written with a pencil, a few stains where some had been erased. Nothing out of the ordinary for Damian and his creative mind. Except for the title.

Ode to Family. 

Thankfully, no one was around to witness the shuddering breath that escaped him as he read. He exited the room still unable to breathe normally, heart so full he almost felt like suffocating, and walked towards his next – and probably last – location.

You spent hours trying to teach me how to dance the waltz there after I told you I wanted to take Steph dancing for her birthday. I still don’t know how to dance but we had fun.

Tim

Indeed, Bruce still regularly caught Tim stepping on his partner’s toes during charity galas and other events. But he suspected the young man of going to great lengths to not learn how to dance correctly because it usually dissuaded most people from asking him to dance with them. And god knew how much his son disliked dancing. 

That was why it had greatly surprised him when Tim had asked him for help.

“I wasn’t really the best boyfriend to her so I just… I thought I could at least be a good friend and take her dancing? She loves it when Cass takes her in the studio and they dance so I just thought… Yeah…”

Five hours later, Tim had made absolutely no progress. He had known the steps by heart at this point, had it memorized and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop stomping on Bruce’s toes. To both Dick’s and Alfred’s delight.

His eldest son probably still had videos of it, he thought as he entered the vast and empty ballroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary or out of place and Bruce almost expected for his family to sneak up on him and surprise him when he noticed one last, black origami bat on the wooden floor, right in the center of the room. 

He crouched down and unfolded it slowly, warily even, some would say.

Terrace on the second floor. You know, the one where I inelegantly asked you to marry me and you just stared for a good five minutes before laughing. (And saying yes, of course.)

It wasn’t signed and even if the message wasn’t telling enough, he would recognize that hasty scribble everywhere.

Bruce took off, climbing stairs two by two and running down hallways. His heart was pounding in his chest. 

He had been gone for six months. Six excruciatingly long months of absolutely no contact, of not having any means to make sure his husband-to-be – yes, that idiot had asked him to marry him just before leaving – was still alive and well. Six months of worrying, of his children asking nervously if he had any news of his whereabouts. 

Bruce barged through the French doors leading to the wide terrace on the second floor of the manor and, surely enough, everyone was there. Absolutely everyone. 

“Happy birthday, Spooky. Half a century, we gotta celebrate,” Hal drawled with an easy grin.

“Someone take the cake away from Hal. Right now, before they ruin it!” Bruce heard someone say distantly and, next thing he knew, he had taken the few steps still separating them and was kissing Hal, holding him close by the lapels on his jacket. 

There were groans, cheers and something that sounded a lot like someone telling them to get a room. Hal laughed against his lips, pecked him one last time before pulling away, opening his arms widely with a grin. A clear invitation for everyone to pile up on them which everyone took with great enthusiasm, barreling into them and crushing Bruce and Hal under their combined weight.

[night-fallz]

Jason Todd x Avengers Crossover

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Unexpected (part 3)

If he knew that he would be blamed for murdering someone the moment he got back to Gotham, then Jason would’ve waited another week or two before returning.

No matter what a lot of people said, Jason wasn’t stupid. He knows not to expect things that were unlikely to happen.

Jason couldn’t risk raising his hopes when it came to the bats.

He knew that he wasn’t gonna receive a warm welcome filled with hugs and cupcakes. Honestly, the most he expected was a nod of acknowledgment. And if he was lucky, then maybe- maybe he would’ve gotten a smile with the quiet whisper of a welcome back.

It made his heart twist in all the wrong ways to know that his family didn’t trust him as much as he thought. Jason genuinely believed that he and the bats were on good enough terms to earn him the benefit of the doubt.

He forced himself not to flinch as he met Batman’s harsh, distrustful gaze.

“I wasn’t even here when he was killed,” Jason tried to say as calmly as he could, knowing that if he loses his temper, everyone would use it against him. “I was following a case up in New York.”

He couldn’t go back to Arkham! Not again. Not with the Joker only a few cells away from him, taunting him with his laughter— his voice filled with cruel exhilaration as he continuously promised Jason that they would play together once again. How he would soon be reunited with his favorite playmate.

His favorite Robin.

He heard someone suck in a breath behind him.

Jason didn’t expect anyone to defend him. Not against Batman. But still-

He didn’t expect them to just stand and watch as Batman tore him into shreds once again. Batman threw accusation over accusation, yet he never once provided a single piece of evidence that proved it was Jason that did it.

He took a step towards Jason and he had to force himself not to flinch. Batman wouldn’t… not with his kids in the same room.

He ignored the rising panic in his stomach. Jason was safe.

He was safe.

Bruce wouldn’t beat him in the cave. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of Damian.

Jason would be able to walk out of the cave with his ability to walk. He was gonna be okay.

“Look, B. You can even ask them,” he pointed at the spot where Dick and the others were standing. “I told them that I was leaving Gotham for a while.”

Batman turned to where Jason was pointing. “Well?” he asked expectantly.

The cave was engulfed in eerie silence before Tim opened his mouth, faltering a little when he met Jason’s pleading gaze. “He’s not lying Bruce. He told me that he had a mission out of Gotham while we were hanging out a few weeks ago.”

Jason could feel his chest loosen up for a few seconds, thankful that Tim confirmed his statement.

He remembered the day that Tim was talking about. The bats were getting even clingier than usual. They weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were following Jason anymore.

Tim asked Jason if he wanted to watch a movie and Jason agreed.

The bats were gonna be watching him anyways— they didn’t even try to hide the fact that they bugged him and all the known safehouses he has.

At this point, Jason didn’t know whether he should feel offended with how much they underestimated or relieved.

They already viewed him as dangerous and unpredictable. If they ever find out that Jason’s been holding back, even if it was just a little-

He won’t let them throw him back to Arkham. Jason would rather go back to the League of Assassins.

If Jason wasn’t watching Batman so closely, he would’ve missed the sliver of a nod the man-made.

Jason tried not to think of the fact that Bruce immediately accepted Tim’s answer without hesitation.

For the millionth time in this conversation, he wished that he was wearing his helmet. Instead, he forced his expression to remain calm. To remain bored as turned back to Bruce an eyebrow raised.

“Is that good enough proof for you, old man?” he couldn’t help but spit out, bitterness clear in his voice.

Batman remained unaffected, not even bothering to verbally answer Jason’s question. Instead, he just nodded.

Jason’s heart clenched, of course, he wouldn’t get an apology. Batman was too prideful for that.

“Truth.” Cassandra’s voice rang across the cave, breaking the heavy silence. “No… not lie.”

Batman nodded once again and Cassandra’s eyes met his. It took everything in him to stop a retort from coming out of his mouth.

Couldn’t she have said that a few minutes ago? Before Batman ripped him apart like he was nothing but flimsy paper.

Still, he guessed he should be thankful that she defended him. Even though it was too late.

After a few seconds of no one saying anything, Dick broke the awkwardness with an annoying smile on his face. “Now that that’s settled, why don’t we get that movie started?”

It was only because of all his training that Jason didn’t break down right there.

Of course this was just another thing that they’d sweep under the rug. Something that they would never want to speak off again.

Discussions of what movie they were supposed to watch erupted the room. It didn’t take long for an argument to break out between Damian and Tim.

Jason watched the scene for a few seconds before looking away.

They looked like a real family.

He turned away, these things happened frequently enough for Jason to know that he wasn’t welcomed.

He blocked out all the noise as he walked towards his helmet, eager to put it back on.

It was only a matter of luck that the universe hated him so much that he knocked something down, the thumping noise alerting everyone that he was about to leave.

Jason couldn’t help but feel relieved that he put on his helmet as soon as he got his hands on it.

At least he didn’t have to go to all the trouble to force his expression to remain impassive anymore.

Batman could use it against him.

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed, “Where are you going, Jay? I thought you were joining us tonight.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’m not in the mood to watch a stupid movie tonight.” Jason spits out.

Was Dick being serious right now? There were so many things wrong with that question.

One: Why would Jason want to spend more time with the people who thought he murdered someone and didn’t even bother to defend him.

And two-

No one invited Jason.

Before anyone could say anything else, Jason hopped on his motorcycle. He needed to get out of the cave.

He could feel their eyes on his back but no one bothered to stop him.

The last thing he heard was Cassandra’s voice assuring the bats. “Be back,” she said with enough confidence that one would think that she could command Jason to turn around with only her words. “He will be back.”

Jason held in the harsh remark that threatened to leave his lips.

Plus, it wasn’t like Cassandra was lying. He knew it— and hell, the rest of Bats probably knew it too.

Jason would come back. He always did.

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

But for now, he needed to get away. He thought that one week would be enough to calm the pit.

It wasn’t.

In fact, he feels like the interaction with the bats today just made it worst.

He’ll stay away from them for two weeks. That should be enough time for the pit to stop screaming at him.

But who would he stay with?

Jason had enough experience to know that the best way to calm the pit was to surround yourself with people you trust.

Kori and Roy were still in space.

And Talia was busy with the civil war against Ra’s.

Jason had no one else.

Except-  

His phone grew heavier in his pocket and he remembered that an Avenger owed him a favor.

Clint said that Jason could text him whenever.

And the more he thought about it, the more Jason decided that he did trust the archer in some way.  

Jason soon found himself staring at the side mirror of the vehicle and poisonous green eyes stared back.

He quickly averted his eyes.

Clint was his last choice. And Jason couldn’t risk being in the peak of a pit episode without anyone to keep him in his place.  

He could do this.

It wasn’t like he had another choice.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

notes:

Balancing out school and volleyball was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Only one month has passed and I am swamped with work.

I don’t know how I feel about this chapter. It’s not my best work but I wanted to put something out for you guys!!

I hope that you liked it.

I’m gonna spend this weekend to try and get my life together so hopefully, that means that next week will be easier for me.

Especially since I still need to finish my permit course. (If you couldn’t tell, I’m kinda hating sophomore year of high school right now)

Like always, please leave a comment. i love reading them and they just motivate me so much! And they would help an extra ton these days.

And once again, if you have any fanfic requests, questions, or just suggestions for a specific fanfic i’m writing, just leave it in a comment down below or you can just message me here on tumblr.  

[iphoenixrising]

How do you think the boys will react to Dr Tim in fear gas (like full dose of it)??

Hi babe.

I’ve said it before, but ah. Be careful what you wish for, heh. 

But no, really hasn’t poor Dr. Tim been through enough? Guy has already narrowly escaped collapsing bridges, been up close and personal with the Joker, fought off Scarecrow’s goons, AND was smack dab in the middle of an honest-to-God Arkham Riot.Now we’re going to just get him all up in some fear toxin? Good Lord, can the man get a break? He hasn’t had some smut in a while tbh. (winks over to chippon)

BUT.

WARNINGS FOR: 

Mentions of child abuse 

Mentions of gore, blood, grossness 

You will be crying by the end. Guaranteed. 

Extreme mental and emotional HURT 

Tim’s fears are Jesus-Fucking-Christ level bad 

You’ve been warned :D

**

He’s not even back to work yet after that ambulance wreck, still feels the road rash, pulled muscles, and residual owfuck from a little rough and tumble time at Arkham Asylum. 

But, he’s in a convenience store for fuck’s sake because Jay wouldn’t let him have coffee this morning (nah, Sweets. Ya ain’t godda get up yet. Jus’ go back ta sleep wid’ me, yeah? We’re gonna stay here all warm n’ snug. Sshh. I gotcha, Timmy), and he’d managed to wrangle himself out of Jay’s arms when he woke up again, found out there’s only enough grounds for a shitty, weak pot, and Tim can’t even stand the thought of it.

Unfortunately, he gets a whole lot of random bad guys stopping in for those terrible hot dogs and road drinks on their way out of Gotham.

(Crane looks just as horrifying as he remembers from the hospital that one time, and Tim fervently hopes, hopes none of these henchmen recognize him in a beat-up hoodie and saggy sweatpants.)

What makes matters worse?

Crane isn’t even trying to be, you know, an evil villain.

There’s a put-upon sign behind the mask, and the fear gas comes out of nowhere, getting everyone in the store because the guy just doesn’t want to deal with civilians right this moment. He missed the break-out and decided to have a party all on his own, but he hasn’t even gotten the time to get the plan for his next evil scheme ready yet.

So he raises a hand and sprays a little gas to keep people from being lucid enough to call the cops and rat him out. He needs some time for a good getaway.

Tim, however, sees the inevitable coming and is frozen to the spot, can’t get his weak knees to unlock so he can at least try to duck. Instead, he gets it full in the face.

In a sweep, Crane sprays the small store as his henchmen drop a $20 in front of the coughing clerk and take off back out the door. Hotdogs and all.

Tim scrabbles for his phone, the noxious cloud makes his eyes water, his lungs fucking burn on the first choked, shocked breath. Even when he tries to hold his breath, he’s too terrified, knees going out just as he thumbs the screen behind his back.  

“Timmy?” is tinny and far away while he tries to at least breath shallow, eyes dart to the door, his brain tuned into the whole get out and away before the inevitable happens.

He’s got to get to Jay, he’s got to get out of here and get to someone. If he starts talking while hepped up on fear gas, he could give away everyone’s secrets. He could tell random strangers who everyone really is, he could tell anyone their weaknesses, he could put everyone in danger.

Building blocks. If he can get to a lab, to Steph’s, back to his penthouse, anywhere not here, he can probably crack the building blocks of the toxin before it takes him over completely.

He doesn’t even hear, “Baby? Ya there? Didja butt dial again? Thought I tol’ ya ta stay in bed with me, yeah?”

Not with the door right there.

All he has to do is make his weak knees fucking work, ignore the burn in his lungs, his brain, his eyes teary with the cloud still thick around him, with the abrupt slam of his heart in his chest, with the sudden shadows in the niches that hadn’t been there before.

He just has to get to that fucking door. Has to be able to run.

Tim manages to mostly get there before the screaming starts.

**

Dick is working the day shift in the uniform when word Crane struck come over the wire.

Whenever it’s one of the big bads, he gets close enough to get the details before handily disappearing to slip into something a little more comfortable.

(He knows his ass is spectacular in the Nightwing suit.)

A boop from his pocket is his Batcomm notification, and he pops it in just as he dips into the men’s room with a plan to get out one of the usual windows.

“We’ve got Crane on the move, O. Might want to drop B a line.”

“Already aware, Boy Wonder. It’s more severe than you realize.” His phone goes off as Dick is shimmying out the window and up the building where he keeps a spare suit in a nice waterproof bag hidden in the overhang.

When he checks whatever oh shit is added to a potentially deadly scene, he’s got a text from Jay and a picture from O.

Surveillance footage from inside a convenience store where Crane evidently attacked some civilians. His breath catches when one of the faces turned away to try avoiding the gas is–

Timmy.

“Fuck,” is a little breathless with a very different kind of fear, and Dick immediately turns it up a notch, throwing his suit on and slapping a domino over his eyes. “What can you tell me, O?”

Quick check on what he’s got to work with.

“B and Rob are already in pursuit. Signal is approaching to assist. As far as we can tell, this is the only place Crane managed to hit. Everyone’s mostly been accounted for by GCPD.”

“I sense a but coming–” and he checks his phone two seconds before time to fly, and the text from Jay is something about Tim and screaming, and now he won’t pick up the phone...

“O?” Because dread strikes him in the chest.

“He’s the only civilian missing. He must have already taken off before the patrol car got there.”

“He was hit with fear gas, and he took off?”

The jumpline is already in his hand before he even hits the edge of the roof at a run. It’s go time.

So, it’s a race to find Tim, all doped up on fear toxin and probably tripping out of his mind in one of the most dangerous cities in America where people like the Joker and Two-Face might hold a grudge.

Jason was already suited up before he sent that text to Dickie, was outta there when the sounds came over the line, the familiar screams. It’s a particular flavor of terror spelled out that Timmy, was probably in trouble.

He hits up O with the deets while Nightwing hits the almost-night, making the first swing fucking count.

**

The world alters and shift around him, almost throwing him off his feet more than once.

He’s already completely lost his sense of direction, trying to keep his eyes closed in a last ditch effort to keep the hallucinations at bay.

(It’s just chemicals fucking with your brain. You can beat this. It’s not real. None of it is real. You know that. You know it’s just–

Brick under his fingertips, abrading the sensitive skin. Stumbles over a curb, and the loud whonkkkkk almost rips a surprised yip out of him. Tim cracks his eyes open, heart picking up when the yellow lights look like the porch light from the Johnson’s house–

– before they brought him back.

“He’s…a special child. He needs more than we can give him–”

“He can’t get along with the other children, so I’m afraid–”

“Well, you see. Mary is pregnant! It’s-it’s a miracle, and we like Tim, really we do–“

Tim grits his teeth, hears so much wahwahwah than anyone really talking, telling him to get the hell out of the street, what is he thinking?

But instead of a shadow of a motorist that had pretty much almost run him over, all he can see is Detective Gordon, way back when he’d been the one to come to the Drake’s manor and give him the news.

His mom and dad weren’t coming back, not ever.

“N-No,” he whimper screams, slamming his eyes closed, and takes off again. It’s a full tilt run, every person he meets with someone else’s face.

Michael McCannon, the guy that beat the shit out of his foster kids.

Lilly Wright, wanted the income from having a foster in her house, didn’t care if he went to school, if he slept, if he ate, if he was dead in a gutter because he fell off a roof running after–

He smacks his palms into brick, scraping his face, turns and there’s Tony Stark back when he’d first met. Intimidating and imposing, eyes narrowed in distaste.

He runs faster, only half recognizes the buildings as he goes. He knocks into someone, eats face in an alley, panting and sweating, eyes full of tears, brain on fucking fire.

“Drake!” Hissed from the shadows, the darkness parting for red, gold, and green.

But it’s too much red, too much red.

“N-no, nonono,” and now he’s outright sobbing, scrabbling to his feet because Dami, Dami, is in a ragged, torn tunic, skin broken and blood fucking pouring out of him.

He’s got both hands on the vigilante, brain failing him, spitting out the mortality rate of being run the fuck through.

“No, no, no Dami, Dami,” he’s pressing on the worst wound, tears streaming down his face, babbling incoherently, apologizing, begging this kid, the little brother he should have had, not to fucking die and leave him too.

Robin, laying where the doctor had apparently thrown him, is staring up in shock, hands on Drake’s forearms where he’s pressing at some imaginary wound.

“Don’t die, Dami. Stay with me! Please stay with me!” Is fairly screamed in the cold night.

And Robin catches his breath at this, this, as one of Drake’s worst fears.

“D-Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I-I can’t lose you, too.” Tim weeps, pulling both hands back, staring down at what must see as blood and viscera.

“I am sorry, Timothy,” Robin breathes out hoarsely, frees a hand to pull back, teeth clenched against what he’s about to do, and punches their doctor with real intent.

As he hopes, Tim goes down like a stone, unconscious on the dirty ground, tears still on his face from terror and grief.

In a breath, Robin is on his feet, kneeling over Drake, tapping the comm in his ear. “Hood, N, Father. I have located him. He has been…affected. I am uncertain if the anti-toxin in my belt would do further harm, so I have not administered it as of yet.”

“Rob,” Hood’s response is immediate, “Big Wing’s with Daddy Bat takin’ care a’ the last of ‘em.  I’m headin’ atcha now.”

“Meet me at the Black Bird. Hurry,” Robin cuts off, and gently, oh so gently for his normal, lifts Tim’s upper body against his chest, points a gauntlet at the roof to fire the jump line, reel them both in.

At sixteen, the youngest vigilante has nearly outgrown the doctor, and has no trouble lifting Tim up to carry him across the roof, occasionally looking down to make sure Tim is still out.

His own vehicle, the Black Bird, is hidden close to a safe house for the Bats. Balancing Tim in his arms, he taps his utility belt, the container hiding the car folding away.

Hood is on the ground, immediately takes Timmy from Rob, looking at the scrapes on his face.

“In, in!” Robin snaps, shooing Hood in the back with their Doctor. “We must get him to the Cave immediately.”

He dives in the driver’s seat, revving the engine fast, tapping his mask for the whiteouts to slide up. He takes in the immediate area with a glance, and peels out into the night.

Jay deactivates the helmet, tosses it in the front seat, wraps both arms around Timmy in his lap, tapping the comm to listen up at Dickie and B on clean-up whiles he winds up to get all the deets outta the Demon.

“Tell it ta me straight, Lil’ D. How bad wassit?”

He’s looking in the rearview because the kid’s eyes always give him away.

He ain’t prepared to see the Demon blinking rapidly, jaw clenched tight. “He is fully effected. Hallucinations, inability to discern outside voices. I called to him. He was not able to hear me. See me, yes, but he believed I was…dying. He attempted to treat me, asked me not to…”

Robin makes a hard right turn, shoves his foot against the pedal to drift it. He shoves in the clutch, shifts the gears, biting down on his lower lip (“Don’t leave me, I can’t lose you.”).

He evens out, hitting the Robert Kane Bridge to take them out of Gotham proper and closer to the Manor.

“Dames?” Jay makes it soft because the kid is obviously shook.

Robin pushes the car to 105 mph to sail over the bridge.

“His fear was he would be unable to save me. The wound…he believed the wound made by Hush would kill me yet again, I believe.”

Jason Todd breathes in sharply, freeing up a hand to fit at the back of Rob’s neck, make circles with his thumb.

“Sorry that mighta brought ya back.” His tone is low with sympathy, empathy.

And for a moment, Damian Wayne, not Robin, leans back into that hand, lets it ground him while the night flies by the window, while he watches the darkness for everything while he downshifts, when the road starts getting less defined further out of the city they go.

“It is not that,” Damian admits, “one day, one of us, perhaps all of us, will not return. Nothing he can do will prevent that.”

“I know, Baby Bat. Let’s hope it ain’t any day soon, you feel me?” And Jay, tries to keep it gentle, tries to keep the circles going, tries to be easy about it so Baby Bat won’t try ta pull away, put it all back inna box to fester.

“Agreed. However, do not be surprised if he comes to fighting. We must monitor his vitals closely if this toxin is similar to the last batch.”

“I gotcha. S’all right, we’re gonna take care of him, ain’t we?”

Damian makes an affirmative noise and leans forward out of Jay’s grip, pressing the gas, then gearing back up.

**

Tim comes to as the restraints are tightened, Alfred Pennyworth securing several sticky discs to his chest, and a pulse oximeter to his finger.

“We’ll see you soon, Son. Be a good boy while we’re gone.”

Makes his eye fly open wide, his heart slam painfully against his rib cage, his arms jerk where his wrists are restrained.

“Boys,” a cultured voice calls the second his eyes open, but Tim can’t see anything, not with his heart in his throat, not with his Dad’s voice ghosting out after over a decade and a half.

When he glances over, horrified at the tall figure coming closer, hands raised up in surrender, and his eyes were empty, gorey sockets, black sludge from the empty cavity. Purple lips and half-rotting flesh, the last clothes he’d seen his father wearing, his best suit, the one he’d wear to Drake Industries on the stints they were home and Dad worked in the office.

Tatters and grave dirt, bone peeking out from shriveled flesh…

“Dad,” is a broken, hoarse croak, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried. I tried to be good,” and the closer his dead, decaying Father gets, the more he fights whatever is keeping him still, won’t let him run for his own fucking sanity, “I tried! I tried and you still didn’t come home! It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t–!”

He chokes, gags because Dad is right by the bedside, and now Tim can see the inside of his black mouth, the tongue putrid and pale without blood, and the smell–

He’s probably screaming, even if he can’t hear himself.

Something is strapped over his face, and he fights it, knows it’s a plastic mask, pumping something into his lungs, just like the fear toxin.

A turn of the head, and it’s the reversal of his first meeting with-with

The Joker.

Harley isn’t on the table bleeding out this time. It’s the two of them standing over him, a huge needle full of green sludge right by the Joker’s shoulder, right next to his horrifically sick smile.

He’s wearing a mock head lamp and white coat, Tim’s own badge dangling from his pocket. He turns to the smaller figure of Harley, the nurse sidekick with a frightening set of tools. The orbitoclast is brown with old blood and brain matter, the leucotome wire is rusty, the plunger to send that wire into his brain almost black with old gore.

And he fucking chokes.

“Hold on to those, Nurse. If my wonderful formula doesn’t do the trick, then we’ll have options! Huh, huh, huh,” and the bastard leans into him, that sickening smile, those wide, lucid eyes.

“He’s going to be our good boy, one way or the other, isn’t he?” And the dark growl of it, the promise is what makes him start screaming again.

Hands on his straining arms, a big body right by the bed when he turns, flinches away as far as the hold could let him.

“Oh no. No no no,” is a whimper, a plea, “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Mr. Johnson, I swear. I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

The grip on his arms becomes bruising, painful, terrifying all over again.

Tim clamps down, remembers the beatings hadn’t been as bad if he could keep quiet.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a little shit.”

It’s Mr. Johnson’s words, but Jason’s voice.

“You need a good ass beaten’, kid. That’ll straighten you right out. That’s what all you fuckers need. Lucky for you I don’t mind making sure you keep on the straight and narrow.”

He doesn’t realize he’s chanting, “don’thitme, don’tdon’tdon’t, please please,  don’t,” while Mr. Johnson backs off, the old recriminations and reprimands rolling right out in Jay’s smooth baritone.

He’s outright sobbing, arms trembling above his head where he’s trapped, trapped. He can’t move, he can’t run, he can’t hide, he can’t–

And a blink takes him to the same fire escape outside his penthouse where he’d found Nightwing bleeding out, pulse already weakening, breathing shallow–

“What–“

The whiteouts on that domino are up so he can see Nightwing’s blue eyes flutter open weakly, can see the hand move gingerly to the bleeding wound on his abdomen.

“I can help you,” he yells out, hoping to make those eyes look at him, to get the vigilante to come to him, “I can save you, but you’ve got to get here.” This time his hands, his arms, his whole body is straining to get free, to reach the vigilante that needs him, that’s dying on him while he fucking watches.

The vigilante half-smiles at him, finger stripes more dark than blue, and his head goes back, visibly slumping.

“Nightwing, Nightwing, look at me! Open your eyes!” He knows he’s begging, fighting, but there’s bands around his chest, around his wrists, his ankles and thighs.

“I need, I need sutures, gloves, blood bag, and-and, I need, I need–“ but Nightwing’s head flops and his chest stutters, “LOOK AT ME! You can’t die like this, you can’t. I’m right here, I can save you!”

He sobs out loud, whole body jerking to get free.

“Ssshhh, baby doll, ssshhh,” makes him open his eyes even though he can barely see through the tears streaming down his face, his sobbing, his heart pounding copper in the back of his throat.

And there’s Jay, lying on his chest, all soft and sweet, with a post-sex grin. He’s too beautiful to be real.

“Jay?” He croaks.

“Yeah,” all soft and sweet.

Until he tilts his head, and the horrific smile below his chin leaks rich red down his throat.

“J-Jay?!” His eyes go wide and horrified because there’s his vigilante boyfriend bleeding out all over his chest, far gone enough to be silly and loopy with blood loss.

“S’okay, yeah? When s’time, s’time. Don’t gotta be sad about it, Timmy.”

“N-No, no, put-Jay, listen to me, put pressure on it, okay? Put both hands and press down. You-you’re loosing too much blood. I need you to–“

“That ain’t what’s happening here, Timmers.” Slurry and low, Jay’s face getting pale, eyes fluttering. “Like I tol’ ya b’fore. One day…one day I ain’t gonna come back. S’ just gonna be my time.”

And Tim’s shirt is wet with it, Jay’s blood staining him, soaking through his clothes, the weight of his big body heavier as his strength goes, as his eyes get dimmer, the jade flecks all but gone.

“You can’t. Jay, babe, you can’t. You have to fight. Please fight,” his hands are straining, but he’s so tired, weak, isn’t strong enough to get to them, to save them from their fates. "I don't... I can't be the last one left standing again. I can't. Please, fight. Please!"

'"Nah, Baby. Small right now. Love ya. Love ya s'much."

"I love you too," he sobs, can't breathe, can't think.

(He’s never been strong enough, has he? He’s not strong enough to be what they need.)

He finally can’t fight anymore, just stays pinned under Jay’s weakening body to cry and shake apart.

**

“Do something,” Dick yells, tears running down his face where he’s pinning Tim’s legs down so he stops hurting himself fighting the restraints.

Alfred, eyes narrow and wet-looking, huffs and turns on his heel abruptly. He fishes out supplies from the cabinet, uses a clean hypodermic to puncture the sedative.

Master Jason is staring up at Master Tim’s face, trying to be that boy in the Robin cape from all those years ago. Trying to be strong in the face of such horrors.

“Master Bruce, account for general anesthesia,” Alfred calls briskly and injects carefully into the IV.

“Understood,” the quickly working vigilante calls back from the lab, running the number a second time, darting looks at his children doing one of the hardest jobs he’s ever asked them to do.

He can tell by how Damian’s shoulders are shaking, Dick is opening crying against Tim’s hip, Jay’s lower lip trembling, eyes wet where he’s keeping Tim’s forearms pinned around the IV in his arm.

He add the variables, taking deep breaths, makes mental notes all over the place to look into Tim’s past foster parents.

Johnson. Right.

And the hardened bat can’t say his heart isn’t thundering in his throat watching Tim’s struggle, scream, cry out in grief, trying to use his reasoning and logic, having the fucking Joker of all people as part of his perpetual nightmares…

Bruce takes a calming breath, forces himself to be the Bat while he aches for the kids.

**

Twelve hours later, he comes to somewhere not his Penthouse or Dick’s apartment.

It’s chilly wherever he is, but for some reason his whole body just aches, hurts like he’d been in another damn car wreck or something. It’s too much effort to lift his head and look around, not when he’s pretty sure he’s in Dick’s lap, recognizes the smell of Dick’s jugular.

He hums a little, glad someone at least gave him a blanket because he’s at least mostly warm. His nose is pretty cold, but he just snuggles into Dick’s neck and sighs.

He tries to raise his knees to fold in, get warmer, but his heels bump into legs, and cracking his eyes open, he realizes Jay is sitting by Dick on the floor of the Cave, Tim laying over their laps.

He’s got a cotton ball taped to the inside of his forearm, and no idea why. He blinks a few times, lifts up enough to see Dami on Jay’s other side, head nudged against Jay’s shoulder. A hand is still on Tim’s ankle.

The sudden need to go to the bathroom drives him from their huddle on the cold floor, but at least he spreads the blanket out over them after he manages to pull out of their arms without waking them.

From their faces and expressions, whatever he isn’t immediately remembering couldn’t have been good.

But first, bathroom. Then, maybe coffee? Because that? Would be absolutely stellar at this juncture. Maybe some ibuprofen.

Luckily, there’s swanky digs in the Bat Cave, a set of lockers, showers, nice hot tub for long soaks after a night of kicking bad guy ass.

All the vigilante amenities.

He’s bleary and sore, staggering to the bathroom, noting B is asleep on the big computer, and Alfred sitting back in another chair, tea cup and saucer on the hard drive next to him.

He smiles a little, wonders if he can find a few more blankets somewhere.

A glance in the mirror as he was washing his hands shows him a bunch of road rash city. Man, he must have been caught up in the middle of something again.  

Seriously.

He splashes cold water on his face, works out the low throbbing ache of his bandaged wrists.

He’s shuffling back, thinking about just waking everyone the hell up to send people to bed, like themselves because his ass is numb, and there’s warm beds upstairs. When there’s pounding footsteps, skitters, and slides, whoosh of air, and Dick is right there up in his face, panting like he’d just sprinted all the way across the Cave in a quick hurry.

“Timmy?!”

He blinks up, still bleary about everything, his throat and voice wrecked as fuck, “hey honey. How was your night fighting shitty bad guys?”

He has no idea why Dick’s expression crumples, his eyes getting teary out of nowhere. He’s not prepared for Dick to start crying, to see his beautiful boyfriend hold a hand over his eyes and break down.

“Dick? Dick?”

He goes from holding himself, shuddering with the cold and ache in his bones, to up in Dick’s face, hand on his shoulder, looking for some injury, something to tell him how to help–

But Dick takes a few shuddering breaths under his hand, and Tim just wriggles his arms around Dick’s chest to hold on for a few long seconds before he gets full-on octopus hold right around his everything.

(Okay, that’s a relief.)

“…was it bad?” He asks softly, making circles with his palms as wide as Dick’s hold will let him.

“Y-Yes. It was bad. You don’t remember?” Dick sniffles against the side of his head, rocking them both gently.

“Not yet.” He shrugs an unconcerned shoulder. As someone who’s had a concussion (okay, okay, concussions), and has worked in the medical field in one of the most dangerous cities on the fucking planet, he knows there are plenty of bad guys with chemical weapons that don’t always leave short term memories in tact.

Dick shakes a little and holds him tighter.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Didja find 'im??!” As Jay rounds the corner and almost slams right into them.

He skids to a stop as Dick swiftly shifts them around out of the way. Jay doesn’t do anything to dislodge Dick’s grip, but palms the sides of Tim’s face, his eyes a hard, icy blue.

“Hey, Sweets, hey,” low in a dark way, not the usual, fun dark way. Tim has a strike of fear, takes stock of himself, of Dick, of Jay, wonders who else in the Cave might be hurt! That’s why they’re here. Someone got hurt coming after his ass, didn’t they?

“Dami? B?” He interrupts, eyes going from Jay to Dick and back.

“Fine, everyone’s fine,” is curt, short with him in a way that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t have enough evidence.

“O-kay. You both are fine. B and Dami are fine. Alfred?”

Over his head, his boyfriends exchange a look that is really starting to worry him.

But the next twelve hours are virtually impossible to escape. The sordid details come out once Tim remembers being in that convenience store. He gets snatches of half-lucid memories, probably never will remember the entire things. The brain is the most fascinating part of the body for a reason, not only as the control center, but also as the decision-maker on what things to blot out to protect itself. 

By the time Dami starts out, they’ve migrated up to Wayne Manor, parted ways to shower and wash off the night. Dick and Jay bracketing him in, being absurdly gentle, consistent soft touches, fingers wrapping around his, hands on his back, kisses pressed into his hair.

There’s some scrapes on his forearms along with the ones on his face, washed gingerly in the shower where he finally feels warm again. Alfred leaves a special bled of his healing goop and has set out pajamas for all of them before he left, requesting them to please come have breakfast.

Tim’s stomach rumbles while they’re getting dressed, and he’s pretty much picked up, and carried down the massive staircase.

(Ugh, this is after the bridge fiasco all over again.)

But the end result: food and coffee in Wayne Manor, so bonus?

Dami is looking at him like a kicked puppy. A perpetual pissed off kicked puppy, but he tilts his head to the side inquiringly, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“I found you almost at Sheldon Park,” Dami starts softly, but at least everyone’s eaten first.

He flinches a little when Bruce tells him what he’d said about his Dad. When Alfred tells him about the Joker and Harley Quinn either going to inject him with some crazy sauce or lobotomize him.

(Yup. Pretty horrifying either way.)

Dami tells him about seeing everyone die around him while Dick has a firm hand on his knee under the table, their chairs closer together than necessary. Jason gives no shits keeping his fingers wrapped up tight, squeezing occasionally. Alfred keeps the mug in his free hand full, stands just by Dick’s other shoulder.

“I mean,” he finally starts after everything is out in the open, “it’s literally a toxin that fucks with your brain chemistry. Not shocking I’d see pretty awful things. I see awful things...a lot, so,” he shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the whole family looking utter raw and split open. “I...I’m...sorry, really sorry I worried everyone. I’ll try to stop getting into trouble so much, you know? But, um. It is Gotham.”

The family crowds around him, bringing in rank around the table. 

And if he doesn’t have to stay at the Manor for the next week, geeze, and get coddled as fuck by the Batfamily, and get picked up from Mercy General every. single. night. for a while, and get wrapped up against two incredible vigilantes that whisper soft things against his throat, his ear, his mouth, his, well, his everything. 

If he doesn’t get Bruce herding him into the study where the fire is burning, and it seems like the Batman is the most patient person ever to let him–let him talk about some of those old pains when he was in the system. 

If Alfred literally can not make him eat enough food to be satisfied. Ever. And gives him a side-eye when he starts to push away a plate that has even a bite left.

(Alfred pizza is god-level, and you’ll never convince him otherwise. But if he eats anymore, he’s going to die. Please stop killing him with your tasty love.)

If Dami doesn’t make him watch NatGeo Wild with popcorn and boxes of candy, then grudgingly plays Mario Kart with him until Rainbow Road is like theirs. No questions asked.

If he finally doesn’t go back to his penthouse, breathes in the familiar smells, gets absolutely destroyed in the Best. Possible. Ways for the next five straight hours. If he isn’t a boneless pile of I can’t possibly come again, for the next week at least. 

If Baby Bird, Timmers, Sweets, Timmy, and Baby aren’t wrapped around him with arms and sweet kisses pressed to his forehead and hair every time he leaves for work or they leave for patrol.

If he was before this, in the slightest bit uncertain he belongs with them, as part of their family–

–he sure as hell knows better now.

At least that’s one less thing to be afraid of.

**

Note:

In Tim’s fear fueled delusion, the Joker is Alfred, Harley is Dami holding equipment to treat him. His dad was really B taking the blood samples from Alfred to analyze. He’s horrified once he realizes what Tim is seeing.

Mr. Johnson, the abusive foster parent is Jay, which Tim kind of associates because of the accent.

Dying Nightwing is Dick bent over to hold his legs down, and the next switch is really Jay laying over him upper body to keep him from hurting himself more.

(Congrats for making it to the end. *Hands tissue*)

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 2

I promise I’m not this fast at writing, I’ve just had the first few chapters laying around for a while lmao. Reblogs are appreciated!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje 

Previous | Next​

Chapter 2: u guys r moding my night :(

There was chaos in the Wayne Manor. This was nothing unusual, of course, and today it even seemed to be surprisingly tame. But it was chaos nonetheless.

Timothy Drake-Wayne careened down the spiral staircase, catching himself with a well-timed front flip handspring, and skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Alfred briefly paused to look up from where he was preparing dough for a batch of homemade pasta, then offered the boy a smile and a greeting.

“Good evening, Master Drake. Dinner won’t be ready for another half-hour, I’m afraid.” Tim had opened his mouth to reply when a growl echoed from the nearby ballroom.

Jason Todd-Wayne sprinted into the kitchen brandishing a nerf gun. “There you are, replacement. You won’t get away with beating me this time.” He pulled back the reloader of the play-gun, making a threatening click ring through the kitchen.

“I’m afraid you are both late to the party,” Alfred calmly announced as he mixed ingredients together. “Miss Cain has been here for the past five minutes.”

Cass Cain-Wayne indeed poked her head out from where she had been perched beneath the bar. She gave her brothers a shit-eating grin and wiggled her fingers as way of a cheeky greeting.

Tim gave a groan as he and Jason begrudgingly handed some money over to their sister. “She cheats.” Cass stuck her tongue out at that. “Besides, racing you here was just an excuse to get my mind off waiting for midnight.”

“And because Alfred is the only one polite enough to actually listen to you rave about that stupid game,” Jason scoffed, sitting down at the bar to watch Alfred work.

“--thought I heard voices in the kitchen, oh there you are, little wing!” Dick Grayson-Wayne’s cheery voice came from the foyer, increasing in pitch as he spotted Jason and swept him up into a tight hug.

Barbara Gordon wheeled herself in not too long after, chuckling at the squirming Jason and delighted older brother.

Meanwhile Tim, who had taken offense to Jason’s insinuation, was reassuring Alfred that if he wanted the boys to leave him be he only ever had to ask. “It’s just that I’m so excited for the launch tonight, and you know B is too busy to hear about it.”

Jason had finally muscled his way out of Dick’s embrace as the latter’s attention focused on his youngest brother. “What launch are you talking about?” Dick asked, giving Cass a side hug.

“Oh, tonight is the release of this new VRMMORPG game called Mindscape!” Tim practically bounced as Dick came over to give him his hug too.

Dick gave Barbara a confused glance. “I know some of those words,” he nodded slowly. “So what’s got you so excited? Video games come out all the time.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he sat down beside Jason on the barstools. “Well yeah, but this game has groundbreaking virtual reality tech. Supposedly, the textures took five years and a team of almost 1000 artists.”

Jason put Tim into a headlock and said casually, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard replacement talking about this yet. He kinda won’t shut up about it.”

Cass nodded her head in solemn agreement while Tim struggled to get out of Jason’s grasp.

“Such are the woes of moving out.” Dick shrugged. “Sounds crash though, got room for one more?”

Tim finally shoved Jason off. “I actually bought enough passes that we can all play if you want,” he gave each of his siblings the biggest puppy-dog eyes he could manage.

Barbara snorted even as Dick pumped his fist in the air beside her. She wheeled herself up to the bar to pinch Jason, who was poised to jab his fingers into Tim’s sides. Jason yelped and glared at her as she said, “Sorry Timmy, I’d rather let someone else be the guinea pig for this new kind of tech. Besides, Dad will worry if I let myself get sucked into pouring too many hours into this.”

“Papa Gordon is a force to be reckoned with,” Dick attested earnestly. “Jay?” he prompted.

“Absolutely not,” Jason answered immediately. Tim was quick to protest. “But why? We could spend more time together! It’ll be good team-building.” Jason’s face soured at that.

Dick leaned in and stage-whispered, “Do I have to tell B to force you into family bonding? You know he’ll make you do it.”

Cass covered her silently laughing mouth with one hand as Jason threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, don’t get Bruce involved. I’ll play your stupid game,” he finally relented. Tim grinned at his win, then cast a hopeful look at Cass.

She pulled a face and signed No thank you. Better things to do than watch VR pornos.

Tim’s face blushed profusely as he opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Jason’s cackling. Even Alfred cracked a smile while he rolled the dough onto the ravioli press.

Once Jason quieted down, Tim crossed his arms and said, “Suit yourself. Looks like it’ll be no-girls-allowed anyway.”

“Guess we’d better tell Cassie that, Timbo,” Dick wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, which Tim elected to ignore.

“Speaking of suits,” Alfred said while seamlessly spreading filling in the ravioli and placing another sheet on top of the press, “aren’t you boys going to miss the premiere if it is indeed at midnight?”

Tim looked imploringly at the two girls. “You wouldn’t be willing to trade shifts for your favorite brother, would you?”

* * *

Wally West strolled out of the zeta tube and into the Justice League’s satellite, known to himself and the other heroes as The Watchtower. He was dressed in a casual NASA t-shirt and jeans, slurping a smoothie, and playing a game on his phone.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made him look up. He was greeted with the sight of his old team, Aqualad, Superboy, Miss Martian, Rocket, Zatanna, and Artemis, waiting impatiently. They were dressed in full hero attire-- he didn’t even realize Artemis still had her costume-- and looked to him expectantly.

“Hey guys, what’s poppin’?” Wally grinned and gave his friends a lazy chin jerk.

“‘What’s poppin’?’ Babe, are you serious? You told us to meet here ASAP for an emergency. So you can tell us what exactly is ‘poppin’.” Ah yes, his Spitfire. Artemis Crock still wasn’t afraid to give him a piece of her mind. But this time it looked like everyone else was on her side too, as they nodded in agreement with her emphatic air quotes.

“Oh, uh yeah, Mindscape is coming out tonight!” He set his smoothie down on the table. “I got us all passes and I’m super stoked for the launch. It’s got this super cool new VR tech that’s basically being released for the first time ever. I got the equipment through my internship, so we’re all set! You guys are totally coming right?” He made finger guns at his increasingly exasperated friends.

Artemis facepalmed. Kaldur’ahm raised his eyebrows in that I’m disappointed in you but I’m not going to say it way of his and said, “Wally, with you and Artemis retired from the life, understand that we took this to be a literal emergency and rushed to your aid. Do not abuse our good intentions.”

“Seriously West, I have a lot on my plate right now!” Rochelle Ervin was also, apparently, a little upset with him. “You could’ve said it was about a dumb game.”

The speedster tried to do damage control with some lighthearted humor. “Hey guys, stay whelmed. I get it, I probably should have given a few more deets about this very-much-not-dumb game, but do you know how many candy bars I had to eat to win these passes?”

“This is why you’ve been spending so much on junk food?” Oh, he was in big trouble with Artemis now. “You probably didn’t have to eat all of them, babe.”

M’gann M’orzz, Connor Kent, and Zatanna Zatara looked similarly annoyed. Well, the girls did. Connor just looked like his usual brand of annoyed, which was honestly a small victory.

“So...” Wally felt a little sheepish now, “who wants in?”

The rest of the group exchanged a look. Artemis was the first to speak up. “Well, you’ve already invested too much of our money in this to turn back now.” She walked up to him and poked a finger at his chest. “But you owe me so many dinners for this.”

He grinned triumphantly. “Deal!”

Rochelle spoke up next. “Me and my plate don’t need any more helpings, thank you very much. I’ll see y’all at the next team reunion!” She flew out through the zeta tube.

Kaldur clapped him on the shoulder. “If you need any assistance, I will be there. But for now I am running Atlantis in Aquaman’s stead while he is off-world, and I must return to my duties.” He then bid the rest of the team farewell and stepped through the zeta tube.

“Haha, he said ‘duties.’” Wally said once he’d left, then winced as Artemis smacked his arm lightly. Lightly for her. Rubbing his arm, he looked imploringly at his other friends.

M’gann and Conner looked deep in a telepathic conversation, which was just awkwardly intense eye contact for onlookers. Zatanna crossed her arms and sighed, “Fine, why not. I didn’t have plans for the weekend anyway. Lead the way to your chocolate factory, Charlie.”

Connor, having caught the tail end of the conversation, looked confused at the reference. He shrugged and said, “I’m in, could be fun.”

M’gann gave her friends an apologetic smile. “Sorry guys, my uncle needs help back on Mars. There’s tensions between the white and green martians again, and he really needs me there to get it under control.”

She gave Connor a peck on the cheek and left to board the nearby Bioship.

“And then there were four,” Wally said with a smile. “Now let’s go make you guys some avatars!”

* * *

Bart Allen could hardly contain his excitement. Scratch that, he couldn’t contain his excitement! “Bouncing off the walls” may be an exaggeration for most people, but he was not most people. Being the grandson of The Flash certainly had its perks, and being able to literally bounce off the walls was one of them.

The cause of his excitement, his friends Timothy Drake-Wayne and Wally West, had just called to ask if Bart wanted extra passes to the premiere of the biggest video game of the decade. And uh, yeah duh he wanted them! He already had one he’d bought for himself, but bringing four extra friends? So totally crash.

He opened up his phone and pulled up the group chat titled Badass Babes.

CrashBandicoot: hey bitchez n babez (u kno who u r), u ready 4 the best videogame of the yr to drop?!

BlueMenace: ese, do you HAVE to type like that?

WonderBabe: yea it’s super annoying

CrashBandicoot: gtta go fast babez

CrashBandicoot: now answer the question

GreenMenace: oh i heard about that! mindscape, right? isn’t it some vr game

CrashBandicoot: yes! nd i got extra tix, so come ovr to cave

GirlBoss: No can do, got research tomorrow!

MaleWife: you always have research bae. sorry little speedster, gotta drive the lady to work

CrashBandicoot: u guys r moding my night :(

BlueMenace: totally not a word but I’ve got you cariño, be there in an hour

WonderBabe: ah what the heck, I’ve got nothing better to do

GreenMenace: always down to whoop ur ass in video games

CrashBandicoot: u wish

CrashBandicoot: roy?

Ginger1 is typing...

WonderBabe: it’ll be fun! more ~mingling~ with kids our age

Ginger2: Hold on, give him some time

Ginger1 is typing...

BlueMenace: Roy, I can pick you up on my way in if you want

Ginger1 has stopped typing.

Ginger2: Um, he says he’ll meet you guys there

Ginger2: He may have destroyed his phone with his “non-typing” hand

GreenMenace: pog

WonderBabe: see u guys soon!

Bart pumped his fist, then ran at top speed to his boyfriend Jaime’s house, where it looked like he was doing homework. Seriously, on a Friday night? Bart had absolutely no qualms about whisking him into his arms and making for the nearest zeta tube.

“Woah Bart, I said I needed an hour!” Jaime protested.

Bart rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you definitely don’t have anything due tonight, and we have to make your character online before the launch!”

Jaime just looked resigned as they sped into the zeta tube. He knew what he had signed up for.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

And when dick finds out jason KNEW and didn't tell b/c of the bet. oh man. Can we get a chapter in dick's pov on this? idc where u put it I just really want to read it.

Dick rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics. Honestly, he didn’t really care who Ladybug was. They had more than enough proof that she was on the good side and their little squabble didn’t seem all that serious.

Besides, no one in France knew who she was after her being a hero for four years. Dick wasn’t one to attempt the impossible (he loved things that seemed impossible, but that’s different than things that actually are).

Still, Damian had come to him for help and he was fine taking some time out of his day to research with him.

And what did they find? Pretty much nothing.

The Parisians either guessed her age as 15-21 or somewhere in the thousands.

She had to have come over from France over the past two days but there wasn’t a single person even moderately matching her description who had come over.

Her friend group was iffy. Supposedly she was friends with someone named Chloe Bourgeois, who’d had the bee miraculous for a short period of time. Then again, some footage indicated that Ladybug might actually hate the girl, so that information was useless. All the other heroes she’d worked with were still a mystery.

And her powers? God, don’t even get him started on her powers. Did she know what she was going to summon or not -- sometimes it seemed like it and sometimes it didn’t. Just how far did the apparent invulnerability go? How does someone take a miraculous? How does her outfit work? Why won’t the mask come off? How much did her cure actually fix? The only thing they knew for sure was that she had to participate in a battle for her to be able to use it.

Even Tim hadn’t been able to scrounge up more than rumors.

But Damian still wanted Dick to be there when he confronted Ladybug with the information and question her, and he didn’t really have anything better to do.

Finding her was way harder than they thought it’d be. You’d think someone in bright red would be easy to spot in the middle of the night, but apparently not.

But, eventually, they found her.

She didn’t seem to notice them for a while. She hopped from rooftop to rooftop, drink in hand.

And then she stopped. She took a long sip from her drink.

“What do you want?” She asked. Well, at least they knew for sure she was French. Her accent was still pretty thick.

Dick and Damian looked at each other awkwardly. What were they supposed to say? ‘We tried to stalk you on the internet but it didn’t work’?

She spun on her heel and repeated herself: “What do you want?” Her smile was getting more strained.

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “Who are you?”

Wow. Smooth. He fought the urge to sigh.

Ladybug grinned cheekily as she matched his posture. “I’m Ladybug, of course.”

He could already tell they weren’t going to get anything of substance from her. Still, Damian was sending him pleading looks out of the corner of his eyes. He brought a smile to his face. “We’ve spent the last few days researching you. We looked up immigration records, plane flights, everything. No one matches your descriptions. You, frankly, don’t exist.”

She tapped her earrings. “That’s ‘cause of magic. It keeps people from finding out my identity if I don’t want them to.”

He blinked and looked at Robin, trying to gauge if this could be true. Sure, metas existed and the internet had attributed her powers to the earrings she wore, but the idea of earrings giving people powers was still kinda odd for him.

Robin didn’t know. Great.

And then Ladybug took a sip of her drink and Dick gave pause. He’d seen that cup before. Pretty much every day, actually. He could ask Tim about it later --.

He was pulled back to the present when Damian groaned and left. He broke into a wide smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be impossible, after all.

He held out a hand to shake. “It’s been nice meeting you. Sorry about my…” He hesitated for a half-second, unsure whether he wanted to say ‘brother’. He glanced at her eyes and decided against it. He didn’t like how intent they looked. Whoever she was, she wasn’t stupid, that much was obvious.  “... partner. He’s a bit annoying.”

She beamed as she shook his hand. “It’s fine. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Nightwing. I hope next time we can get to know each other without him around.”

He chuckled. “Just Nightwing would be fine. And that sounds great.” He gave one last wave before hopping away.

~

Jason’s phone rang and Dick grinned, glad for an excuse to stop working for even a second.

“Who wants to talk to you?”

He held up his phone to show it was ‘Timberly’.

They both frowned at this. Tim? Calling during work? He must be dying.

Jason turned on his speaker.

“Heya, Replacement, what’s up?”

“Hey, I’m going to take the day off.”

Jason and Dick looked at each other for a long time, stunned. And then they finally processed it. “WHAT?!”

“WHO IS THIS?!”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?!”

“ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“IS THIS A PRANK?!”

“Yes, I’m fine. No, it’s not a prank. I’ve met someone --”

Jason laughed.

“-- not like that, Jay -- and I’m giving her a tour of the city. She just got here from France a while ago.”

Cafe person? From France? Dick’s brain clicked and he shoved Jason out of the way to get to the phone. “Did you meet her at the cafe?”

“Yes, I met her at the coffee shop, Dick. What does it matter?”

“She could be Ladybug.”

Tim and Jason laughed at him. Laughed.

“You’re insane. Can I have time off or not?”

Dick fought back his annoyance. Tim was actually asking to leave and he wasn’t going to stop him. “Yes!”

“Please!” Added Jason.

The line went dead. Dick dropped back onto the couch and pulled out his own phone.

How could he bully Tim into bringing (the person who might be) Ladybug over?

He opened up the family group chat.

Idontwantpicturesthatsjustmyname: Guys you will not BELIEVE this

~

Dick rested his head on his hands as he watched Marinette from across the table.

“So, what do you know about Ladybug?”

Her eyes widened slightly. Whether this was because of the suddenness of the question or because he was right he wasn’t sure.

“Subtle,” Jason said sarcastically. He sent Dick a short glare as if to say ‘don’t scare her off we just met her’ and then gave Marinette an apologetic smile. “Sorry, ‘bout that. He’s been obsessed since she appeared, and most of his research has been a dead end. He’s grasping at straws.”

She relaxed and gave a soft laugh. “I’m too klutzy to ever be Ladybug, you can ask anyone.”

Dick tried not to look too skeptical. He’d purposefully surprised her with a rather forceful hug when he’d met her to see how good her balance was when she wasn’t paying attention. She’d had no problem both staying up and supporting their weight.

He couldn’t tell her that, though.

He groaned. “And I don’t suppose you know who it is?”

“Nope.”

And, just like that, the conversation moved on. Damn it, Jason, can’t you relax for a few seconds so he can interrogate her? Ugh.

Still, he smiled at Tim’s expression as Marinette began to explain exactly how they’d met. Even if it annoyed him that he hadn’t gotten any information, no one could ever pass up on the opportunity to mess with their siblings.

~

Jason sent Dick a glare as he pulled on his leather jacket. “You want to what?”

“Do a stakeout!” Dick said brightly. “I’m pretty sure Marinette is Ladybug.”

Tim sighed. “So we’re going to stalk my new friend? Great. Maybe this is why my friendships don’t last.”

“C’mon! It’s not like you even have to go, Tim.”

“And let you guys embarrass me? No thanks.”

“She won’t know --,” Jason said.

Tim sighed and put on his mask. “No. Come on. Dick, you owe me a coffee.”

Dick groaned but nodded. “Fine, I’m paying for snacks. Let’s go.”

~

“For the record, I think you’re stupid,” said Jason as they started to pull themselves up the fire escape.

“Thanks!” Said Dick brightly. “I know I’m right, but thanks!”

Jason laughed quietly. “Suuuure. Wanna bet?”

“Sure. How about 3k?”

He rolled his eyes. “Only 3? Are you really sure?”

Dick scoffed. “Fine. 5k.”

Jason smirked and pulled himself up the last rung and sat himself down on the edge. “Sucker.”

Tim glanced inside and gave sarcastic jazz hands. “Wow. How suspicious. She’s going to sleep.”

“Can’t you guys even pretend to believe me?”

“Nope. You’re insane, dude, the girl probably couldn’t hurt a fly if she wanted to.”

“I know what I saw. That coffee cup was the same one he --” he pointed at Tim “-- brings home all the time. And he saw her get one that day. She’s French and new in town. It’s got to be her.”

Tim sighed. “This feels wrong,” he mumbled. He took a long sip of his drink before continuing: “She’s a civvie, we can’t just watch her.”

“She might be a civvie,” corrected Dick.

His brothers groaned and they all opened their bags of Doritos.

And then Marinette flung the window open and stuck her head out. “Could you guys not do this outside my window?”

Everyone jumped. Tim literally jumped, nearly falling over the side of the fire escape in his surprise. They got into fighting poses on instinct.

Marinette had gone a little pale at the sight of them.

They quickly dropped their guards.

She flashed a weak smile. “Oh, I’m sorry, sirs. I thought you were just guys on my fire escape. You on a stakeout?”

Everyone looked at each other confusedly. Did her accent somehow get worse in the few hours since they met her? Tim looked especially confused by the development.

“Of sorts,” said Red Hood carefully.

She yawned and rubbed her eyes and her accent slipped back towards normal as she spoke: “If you’re staking out, can you…?” She trailed off and her eyes found their way to their Doritos. “Is that really all you’re eating tonight?” She asked, her lips falling into a frown.

The three all looked at each other.

“I mean... yeah, it’s stakeout food,” said Dick.

She clicked her tongue. “C’mon,” she waved them inside and began walking to her kitchen.

They all shrugged as they stepped through her window. What did it matter?

Dick snooped around her apartment with his brothers. He didn’t really know what he was looking for, just evidence that she did anything shady, but really he didn’t know where she’d hide anything. The place was pretty empty.

‘Damn, you live like this?’ He thought, giving her a glance and shaking his head.

His eyes found their way to her bed and he frowned. She’d set up a fake version of herself with pillows and blankets… but hadn’t she made it seem like she’d gone straight from bed to the window? How awake had she really been? And, if she’d been awake, had the accent been faked? Why?

He raised an eyebrow at the real Marinette.

“There were three people outside my window, did you want me not to take precautions?”

He looked away. Fair enough.

He continued looking for anything, but his attempts were fruitless. He would have thrown his hands up in frustration if he didn’t think that would make her suspicious of their true intentions.

Unable to do much else without making it obvious, he wandered over to watch her bake.

~

Dick looked the NightMare outfit up and down.

Ladybug sighed. “What?”

Maybe he could get some information on how her powers worked.

“Why is this outfit more intricate than your normal one?”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “Because I was intending to make it look like a coincidence that I showed up here right after the Ladybug in Paris defeated Hawkmoth,” she said.

He knew she was lying. He didn’t know how he knew she was lying, maybe it was the cadence of her voice or the fact that she had a tendency to keep them as in the dark about her identity as possible, but she was definitely lying.

But he couldn’t prove it.

So he moved on.

~

She stumbled out of her portal and sent them all a tiny wave. “Salut.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he rushed forward to catch her in case she fell. She didn’t, but he still wrapped her arm around his shoulders to hold her upright. “Christ! What did they do to you?”

"Some sort of tranquilizer,” she mumbled, closing her eyes. “We need to warn the Waynes.”

He tensed and looked at his family, who were anxiously shifting from foot to foot.

“You’re not in any state to do that,” said Bruce, finally.

“I can open a portal.”

A wide smile stretched across his face. Aha! She’d admitted that she had to have been somewhere to open a portal. He had her now! “You’ve been to Wayne Manor?”

She opened an eye just enough to send him a glare. “No, but I’ve been outside it.”

His smile dropped. Damn. That’s a good point. The outside was a pretty popular tourist spot. He sighed.

“You need to get home,” said Tim. “I’ll make sure everyone turns around.”

Dick sent him a slight glare but let go of Ladybug and turned away. As much as he wanted to be right, the idea of watching her stumble into her room while half-awake in order to confirm this made him feel a little sick.

He could figure it out some other time, at least.

~

Jason dropped Ladybug onto the bed and they all scrambled around her.

Dick picked up a knife and started attempting to cut the suit around her wound and a curse slipped from his lips as it attempted to reform itself instantly.

After a few attempts, he reached for Ladybug’s earrings. He hadn’t even really been thinking about her identity, he’d just been frustrated about the apparent inability to help her.

Her hand shot up and grabbed his wrist before he could touch them. She tried to say something but couldn’t talk above the blood gurgling in her mouth.

He pulled his hand from her grip.

‘Fine, but when you die stupidly it’s not my fault,’ he thought.

He went back to attempting to tend to her wounds through her outfit.

~

Listen, just because he hadn’t done that didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to know.

He sent a text to Marinette. He’d check every once in a while to see if she responded, but if it took however long Ladybug was out then he would be right.

~

He stepped into the apartment and was stunned to see that Jason and Tim were already there.

But then he watched Marinette walk over. And she was probably injured, with how hard she was trying to hide her limp. And she clearly knew that he was onto her, otherwise why would she be trying to hide it?

“You’re walking a little weird, are you alright?” He said, a smug grin on his face.

But then Tim came to her rescue. He walked over and slung an arm over her shoulders protectively. “Maybe if you weren’t watching her walk she wouldn’t be overthinking it so much.”

Damn it. He hated it when Tim had a point.

Whatever. At least he’d thought of a plan B. He watched as Marinette’s eyes fell on Robin. She’d never met the vigilante before, so there was no reason why they shouldn’t get along.

And then she was nice to him.

He wanted to kick a wall. Was he actually wrong or was she just aware of what he was doing?

She pulled a bottle of wine from her cupboard. “You guys can all have this, right?”

There, a perfectly acceptable way to be petty. He snatched the drink from her hands. “It doesn’t matter because you can’t drink!”

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “It’s legal in my country.”

“But not in ours! Where you are currently staying! How did you even get your hands on this?”

She shrugged innocently.  “You’re more uptight than my actual mom.”

He scoffed. Rude!

So rude, in fact, that he didn’t realize that she had changed the subject until there was no natural way to come back to it.

He stared at the wine in his hands.

Screw it.

~

Dick glanced at his phone as he received a text.

His eyes lit up at the username. Marinette! Aha! He had her now! It had only been a day since Ladybug was released, surely this was proof --!

Definitelyforgottosleep: lemme in

He frowned. All thoughts of Ladybug were pushed out of his mind at the two words. Was she okay? What had happened?

~

Chloe Bourgeois? Where had he heard that name before?

A frown found its way to his face as he tried to recall this. “I know you.”

“You do?”

He nodded slightly and scratched the back of his head. “Definitely... so where...?”

Marinette looked a little pale. “Don’t all rich people kind of know each other?”

Dick gave a small nod. “I guess...” He said despite being sure that wasn’t it.

She grabbed both of them by their sleeves. “C’moooon. It’s cold out, we can at least do this inside.”

~

Dick watched from a bit away, trying to fight back a grin as Marinette and Cass greeted each other.

“Hi,” Marinette squeaked.

Cass looked Marinette up and down. If anyone could crack this case in two seconds, it was her…

And she did.

“Are you a vigilante?”

He fought the urge to squeal. Yes! Yesyesyesyesyesyes --!

And then Jason appeared out of nowhere to tackle Marinette in a hug.

This couldn’t ruin his good mood, though. Nothing could.

“Cass thinks that Mari could be a vigilante,” said Dick with a cheeky look on his face.

Jason and Marinette tensed slightly and looked at each other.

Then, Cass gave a short laugh. “No, wait, I was wrong. Don’t worry about it, Dick.”

Ah. Nothing could ruin his good mood except for that.

His smile dropped instantly and he groaned. “Dang…”

~

Dick looked between Marinette and Tim with horror. Ladybug had confessed literally hours ago and here he was dating Marinette? What the heck? Sure, they were cute together, but that was just cold. Couldn’t he have waited a few days at least?

It didn’t even occur to him that maybe the whole ‘Ladybug confessing’ thing could be linked.

~

When he’d turned on his comm, he hadn’t expected anything much from it.

“The bug’s been bugged,” said Cass.

“She’s been what?”

“Bugged. Someone bad found out her identity and now she’s got a bug.”

There was a silence as this sunk in.

Then Dick was yelling. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN SOMEONE FOUND OUT HER CIVILIAN IDENTITY?!”

“Damn, Nightwing, didn’t know you cared so much,” said Tim, who sounded a bit on edge.

“WHY DID THEY GET TO KNOW BEFORE ME?!”

“Because everyone gets to know before you,” said Cass calmly. “You’re officially the last to know.”

“IM SORRY?! EVERYONE KNEW?!”

“Yep.”

He couldn’t believe he’d been betrayed like this, especially by his own family.

And so he questioned them.

Tim had apparently figured her out the second day and not said anything about it because ‘her identity clearly matters to her, she didn’t even know I knew it until a little while ago’. Damn him. Dick couldn’t even get mad at him for that.

And then Jason was next. He’d apparently found out when Marinette had gotten shot. He’d given the same reasoning as Tim, which was more than a little suspicious.

Bruce was next. He’d found out on the Wayne Manor cams and hadn’t said anything because he thought everyone already knew. Ouch.

Duke said that he had just found out when Marinette had touched her comm. He got a pass.

And then Cass said she’d found out the moment she’d met the girl. Dick had suspected that, considering the conversation they’d had on Thanksgiving, but then he’d questioned her on why she hadn’t told him and…

“Red Hood and Marinette didn’t want you to know, so.”

Dick was practicing breathing exercises. It didn’t work, though. “WHO IS SHE?!”

He had a strong suspicion he knew, considering Jason had kept the answer from him, but he wanted to hear it directly from someone.

Jason attempted to steer the conversation away: “Hey, so about that bug thing --.”

Whatever attempts to save his wallet he was about to make was ruined by Cass, who simply said: “Marinette.”

Let’s just say Jason was lucky that Dick was against murder.

He was not, however, against cursing him out for the entire family to hear.

~~~

When you have to read 44 chapters of your own fic to answer a prompt--

I probably missed some things, too. I put a lot of little things in

[peterxwade24]

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Who’s ready for chapter 1?!?! Woot Woot!

For this chapter, which is only 2008 words, I’ve decided to do multiple points of view (which is indicated by -*-*-*), and go between Paris and Gotham. I hope everyone enjoys this thrilling installment in Safety Found in Red Sleeves.

Chapter 1

Thana, because she would almost always refer to herself as Thana because that is the name her mother gave her and the name her brother knew to be her’s, looked around the overly pink bedroom her new parents had furnished for her. She knew her new parents had always wanted a little girl of their own, a little girl who was of their own blood. Thana looked down at the pink dress in her hands, she was to attend a function with Chloé and her parents this evening and she was to dress up.

Thana looked at her reflection in the mirror, her hair was in a pixie cut with the tips dyed black. She frowned at her reflection, she didn’t look like Thana Todd anymore. She looked like Marinette Dupain-Cheng, with her hair fading back to her normal dark red hair and her face gaining weight in ways she hadn’t expected. Thana pressed her hand against the mirror, just to see if it was real or an illusion.

She turned around and shook her head. She took a calming breath and smiled to herself. “You can do this. Just, think about what Jay-Jay would say. He’d be so proud of you.” Thana nodded and started to change out of her everyday clothes into the pink dress. She needed to get ready faster.

Thana sat at the vanity in her room, pulling out the makeup her new mom had gotten her. She added light pink eyeshadow to her eyelids before putting shimmery white eyeshadow in the inner corners of her eyes. She applied a light amount of eyeliner before swiping mascara onto her lashes. She applied a light pink gloss to her lips and smiled. If Jay-Jay saw her, he’d say she looked pretty.

Thana got up and grabbed a small white clutch, into which she put her wallet and the light pink gloss, before looking in the mirror again. She glanced into her hair, where Plagg tended to hide. “Plagg? What do you think?”

Plagg poked his head out of her hair and looked over her outfit in the mirror. Plagg’s little face split open in a smile and he settled down in her hair again. “You look pawsitively purrfect kitten. Although, you can stand to use more of our colours.”

She giggled and nodded. “I know I could. Should I use the black clutch instead? With the emerald clasp?”

Plagg considered that before nodding. “With the matching shoes. And the emerald necklace and earrings.”

Thana smiled and glanced behind her at the cheese danishes. “Would you care for a cheese danish? I’m sure we’ll be able to find some of that rich people's cheese at the function.”

Plagg dashed out of her hair and went over to the plate of cheese danishes. “You’re the sweetest kitten.”

Thana giggled and placed her white clutch on the vanity table. “You just like getting carbs with your cheese.” Thana hurried to grab the right clutch and transferred her things from the white clutch to the black clutch. She slipped on her black shoes with emerald details, grabbed her emerald necklace and earrings, and put them on. “Okay Plagg.” Thana picked up her clutch and turned to him. “What do you think now?”

Plagg smiled. “Pawsitively purrfect kitten. You’ll be the Cinderella of the ball.”

Thana and Plagg laughed before Plagg finished his danish and flew back to her hair. “Let’s go. Chloé, Kim and Nino will be here soon.”

---

Thana, the shortest of her friends, stood glumly in a corner as her eyes were focused on the screen on the opposite wall. She felt her mood darken further when the international news rolled along and displayed a story from Gotham.

“Yama Lingpa, reporting live from the Wayne conference.” Yama Lingpa was an attractive woman of Tibetan descent, with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. “Mr. Wayne is addressing the world today regarding his sons.”

Bruce Wayne became the focus of the camera, despite the four black haired boys behind him, with an easy smile on his face. “First of all, I’d like to thank you all for being here today. Second of all, I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge and remember all of the parents who don’t get their children back.” Bruce bowed his head in silence, an action quickly followed by the rest of the people in attendance. “Finally, I’d like to introduce you all to my sons. One of them you’ve all probably heard of before, as we believed we’d buried him some years ago.” Bruce cleared his throat before motioning for two of his sons to step forward. Bruce pointed to the younger of the two, who bore a striking resemblance to him. “This is my son Damian, who was conceived through less than ideal means. He’s the only one who’s actually biologically my son but that does not mean I love the rest of my sons any less.” Bruce pointed to his other son, older but not the oldest, who’s blue eyes kept Thana’s eyes affixed to the screen. “My second son, Jason Peter Todd, has returned. He’s the one who brought Damian to me, after being kidnapped by Damian’s mother.”

Thana could no longer focus, a gasp escaping her, as she gazed at her brother for the first time since she’d been forced out of Gotham.

“I know. Isn’t he dreamy?” An older girl asked from beside Thana. “I would climb on top of him and ride him like the prize stallion.”

Chloé appeared out of nowhere and cleared her throat. “You do know that’s her brother, right? And no girl wants to hear that another girl wants to ride their brother.” Chloé seemed to process her words for a moment before turning to Thana. “Your brother? But,” she shook herself before placing a hand on Thana’s shoulder. “I’ll go get the others. We’ll go back to mine and talk. Collect some snacks.”

Thana walked over to the buffet-style table loaded with various foods, grabbed a variety of different foil containers, and filled them with the snacks each person would enjoy. She did everything as though on autopilot, barely noticing when Chloé returned until Nino took the containers from her, and Kim, with his red suit jacket, pulled her against his chest. Behind Thana’s friends stood Chloé’s oldest friend, Adrien, and Alix Kubdel.

The six teens walked out of the hall, hushed whispers following them out.

-*-*-*

Jason let the smile slip from his face as soon as he joined Dick and Tim backstage. He turned away from Bruce and Damian, feeling the younger boy grab his left hand anyway. “What did you mean? You couldn’t possibly. Dickiebird, Replacement. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Tim shrugged sheepishly before pulling out the polaroids. “It happened in broad daylight. I’m sorry, I was nine I didn’t know what to do.”

Dick frowned. “I wasn’t even in the city that day.” Dick looked at his little brothers and pulled them close. “I promise, we’ll track her down.”

Bruce frowned and narrowed his eyes at his oldest. “You will do no such thing. No son of mine will be running around with the child of a rogue.”

Jason pulled away from his brothers and raised an eyebrow at Bruce. “Alfred would call you a hypocrite. I’ll call you an ass. Pixie is my little sister and she will always come first.” Jason turned back to his brothers before gently pushing Damian towards Tim. "You're still living in the manor, right? Can you take him there for a while? There are some things I need to take care of before I can take him in."

Tim nodded before wrapping an arm around Damian.

Dick tugged Jason into his arms a final time before letting him go. “You’ll find her.”

---

Jason frowned at the red haired man from his hiding place amongst the shadows.

“Where oh where has my little Alice gone? She was so sweet, so tiny, so much fun to play with.” Tetch’s voice would have sent shivers down a lesser man’s spine, but Jason would never forget the night he met Pixie.

Jason silently leapt down from his hiding place and pulled a gun on Tetch. He felt a sinister smile spread across his face and tilted his head in a rather Joker-esque manner. “Watcha doin’ Hatter?”

Tetch jolted before a crazed laugh poured from his lips. “Oh my little Alice’s white rabbit! So pleasant to see you. It really has been so long, hasn’t it? Since poor old Joker sunk his claws in you and ruined you.” A manic smile spread across his face and he mimicked Jason’s head tilt. “Oh but my poor sweet Alice’s white rabbit has grown up to be such a dick.”

Jason growled and moved his gun to put a round in Tetch’s arm. “Back to Arkham with you. And tell Joker, he won’t get a second chance.” Jason hauled the bleeding man up and off they went.

---

Jason had dropped Tetch off just inside the gates and set off the alarm before booking it in the opposite direction. He systematically checked the city, going over all of the known haunts for street kids before going over all of his haunts with Pixie. He just wanted to find something that would lead him to wherever his sister had been carted off to. He was sitting on the roof of a building when he felt a presence looming over him. “If B sent you, you can fuck off. If Joker sent you, I’ll break your kneecaps.”

The presence, who turned out to be The Riddler, sat beside Jason. “Neither of them sent me. Neither of them would send me. I’m a free agent. However, we have something in common. Our affection for Hatter’s girl.”

Jason turned to look at the rogue. “Hatter’s girl?”

Ed smiled and pulled out a worn photo from his wallet. He held the photo so that Jason could see it and smiled. “She saw me. The real me.”

Jason glanced at the rogue with a newfound affection and smiled. “She was funny like that.”

---

Jason smiled as he looked around his new apartment. He had rented an apartment with three bedrooms, on the off chance he would find his sister again and one of his brothers stayed over because Damian, his little nugget, refused to sleep alone.

Jason straightened his shoulders before straightening his clothing in his closet. He was excited, today was the day his little nugget was coming home. He walked from his bedroom to the kitchen and wiped down the counters again.

A knock sounded on his door before his excited nine-year-old babbled something in Arabic before just opening the door.

“Little Nugget!” Jason smiled and crouched to accept the nine year old into his arms before standing up and adjusting his little nugget onto his hip. “Replacement.” He cleared his throat before looking over at his older brother. “Dickiebird.”

Tim smiled and shrugged. “Do you mind if I crash here for a while?”

Jason smiled. “Mi casa es su casa.” He smiled as his excited nine-year-old babbled at him. “Ya hayati, I’m going to put you down now. Okay? You can either stay here or go find our room.”

Damian ran off to go find their room with excited laughter falling from his lips.

Jason turned back to his brothers and schooled his features. “Before you say anything, I’ve been the only one to show that boy any affection since he was born. Also, he sleeps better if he’s laying down with someone.”

---

The four brothers sat on the roof of the apartment building, Damian on Jason’s lap and Tim leaning against Dick’s side.

“Thank you for being here for me. I appreciate your support.” Jason smiled at his brothers and the four just watched the sky for a while before going back into Jason’s apartment. He would always search for his little sister, but until he found her he was grateful that he had his brothers to help watch his back.

Taglist

@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen  @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel

Questions? Wondering why Damian is so, not normal Damian? Let’s keep in mind he was six when Jason joined them and it’s been three years.

[vikingpoteto]

middle children must unionize

read on ao3 ______________________

my contributior for @batfam-big-bang

Summary: Jason realizes no one is taking care of Tim - not even Tim himself. He decides to do something about it.

Notes: I can't stress enough how grateful I am for joining this event. First of all, stan the mods. Stan my beta reader team, @timmydrakewings, @stormleviosa and @sun-lit-roses. Stan my artist team @houser-of-stories, @reese-haleth and @anicomicqueen To all of these amazing talented people that, for whatever reason chose to help me with this story, I can't stress enough how grateful I am. ________________________

Jason doesn’t keep in touch with the Bats after Bruce’s gone.

Batwoman only trusts him as far as she can throw him. Dick is not easy to avoid, but Jason keeps their contact to a minimum nonetheless. Ninja girl doesn’t speak with him. Replacement… Well. Jason does have a weird professional relationship with the kid. As professional as you can get with someone you tried to kill. Barbara will probably never forgive him for making Dick cry so many times. Brat girl will probably never forgive him for trying to kill Replacement. The other one, whatever his name is, is low-key/high-key terrified of Jason. As for the gremlin... Well, he’s like 10? 11? Jason doesn’t hang out with children, not even assassin ones.

So yeah. Not on friendly terms with anyone in the Wayne family.

However he is an instigator at heart and, while whatever they’re doing in the Batcave is none of his business, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish one of his rare visits by stirring things up a bit.

Dick usually makes sure he doesn’t do anything too outrageous, but a distraction comes in the form of Gremlin, who shows up demanding to know why Dick is late for their training session or whatever. The brat sends Jason a scathing look but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. Dick only smiles patiently and waves Jason goodbye, leaving Replacement unsupervised. Before heading out, Jason approaches Replacement, who’s sitting by the batcomputer.

“So,” he starts. Jason notices when the kid flinches a little. Your regular guy wouldn’t, but Jason was once a bat too. “How does it feel to be replaced, Replacement?”

Replacement’s shoulders go stiff for half a second.

When he turns to face Jason, however, his expression is empty.

“Predictable,” he says.

Jason quirks an eyebrow up. “Meaning?”

“I was only a Robin because I was, how can I put this, a coworker?” Replacement turns his eyes back to the computer and starts typing. “It was a no-strings-attached sort of deal. Bound to end at some point.”

That’s… new.

“You’re legally adopted into the Wayne family,” Jason hears himself reminding him.

“Yeah, ain’t that a pickle,” Replacement laughs. “Can you guess who forced Bruce to do that? My money was on Dick, but now I think it was probably Babs or Alfred.”

Jason stares, unsure what to make of that. Before he decides, the kid stands up.

"I have always been a patch job, so being dismissed is to be expected. I'm just overstaying my welcome at this point."

“You can get dismissed? I thought this was an until-your-untimely-death sort of gig.”

That was not how Jason expected this conversation to go, like, at all. He had never seen Replacement looking so… worn out? Lifeless?

“I don’t know, man,” Tim frowns as though he made himself confused. “God, I’m sleepy. See you around, I guess.”

And Jason watches him leave the cave with his shoulders hunched and an empty stare. Dick and Gremlin are so preoccupied with their sparring session that they don’t seem to notice. Jason sticks around for a few more seconds, stunned, before he realizes what he’s doing. He goes home.

Jason can’t stop thinking about what the kid said.

It’s not that he didn’t think something of the sorts, especially when he was angriest at Bruce. He had thought about how Batman trained his children to be soldiers and, like soldiers, they could be easily replaced. After all, what was one more problem child joining their broken family? What’s another deadly brat being thrown at some creeps wearing literal clown costumes?

He did think of them as Bruce’s kids though.

Not that Batman had any expertise in healthy parenting techniques, but Jason didn’t have any healthy son experiences to compare so it didn’t matter much. They were Batkids for the better and mostly for the worse, and if something happened to them, well, the crusade must go on.

He never thought of Robin as someone that could be sent home out of the blue, like your average GC Pig. A disgrace to the family? Sure. See, kids, we don’t talk about cousin Jason. He got himself killed and came back all crooked. That’s what happens if you kill murderers or forget to brush your teeth. Still, the idea of being dismissed for no reason never occurred to Jason. It was absurd, because, as far as Jason knew, his replacement was the perfect little soldier. Why would he walk away?

Dick fought with Bruce. Jason… well. You know. Brat girl had to move cities or whatever? Or she died, but got better? Jason doesn’t really know anything about the chick. Either way, he knows she became Batgirl soon after. Tim, however, had nothing stopping him from staying masked. Why would Replacement talk about being Robin as if it was a summer job?

Does that mean that the wimpy kid Jason has been bullying was really that cold and detached?

He thinks about it until his head hurts and he starts remembering times with Bruce and Dick and Alfred and suddenly he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

It’s a good thing Jason is good at compartmentalizing, because that’s what he does. He pushes thoughts of Batman and Robin to the depths of his mind and forgets about it.

He doesn’t find out until weeks later.

He’s not visiting the manor because he wants to. It’s just that there is this stupid encrypted information he needs for a case and he isn’t exactly tech savvy. He doesn’t think Barbara would do him a solid - she’s still ignoring him for… whatever. He doesn’t even know. Probably something about hurting Dick’s pwecious feewings or eating the last cookie Alfred made. Either way, Jason first tries contacting Replacement directly. Only when the kid doesn’t pick up he forces himself to go to the cult headquarters.

He needs that data, dammit, and whoever called programming logic, was out of their damn mind. If true, execute commands 1, 2 and IV, it said. If what was true? Jason read and read and still didn’t get what it was referring to. And why would someone name the commands regular numbers then just… throw a fucking roman number? Just to spice things up? Whoever wrote that damn code should get a bullet in the foot.

“Jay!” Dick grins at him, although he looks unamused by the fact that Jason is coming in through a window on the second floor. “You do remember that we have a door, don’t you?”

“I like to keep ‘em guessing,” Jason says. “Which room is the kid’s? I have a job for him.”

Dick tilts his head to the side, confused. “Damian is at school?”

And then there’s that. A lot to unpack. First, Jason is deeply offended that Dick thinks he would ever go there after Gremlin, the child that likes to criticize Jason's  skills despite the fact that a) Jason was trained by Damian's father and then b)Jason was trained by Damian's mother. Second, Damian Wayne. Going to Gotham Academy. Does he wear the uniform? Does he have homework or does he threaten the teachers with a sword until they quit? Did anyone explain to him the concept of playing tag before he murders a bunch of 9 year olds? Jason has so many questions. If only he had time.

“I said the kid . The human one, not the imp.”

“Oh.” Dick seems taken aback. “Oh, he... Jason, Tim isn’t in Gotham. You didn’t know?”

Jason groans. “Are you kidding me? You annoyed him into leaving the planet with his alien friends again, didn’t you?”

“No, he… I actually don’t know where he is now.”

Jason blinks in surprise. So Dick didn’t pick Bruce’s habit of microchipping his kids?

“What do you mean you don’t know? How do you lose a whole Robin? The uniform is basically a traffic cone.”

Dick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jason had seen Bruce do just that so many times he forgets for a moment whatever stupid joke he was about to make. When did his older brother become the dad?

“He left a while ago. He barely spent any time here at the manor after I gave Robin to Damian, so…”

Jason freezes. After I gave Robin to Damian, he says. Being dismissed is to be expected, the kid said weeks ago.

“Dick. What the fuck did you do?”

Dick looks surprised at the raw anger in Jason’s voice, even though he shouldn’t fucking be. Jason remembers the distant voice on that day. He did think that was oddly cold for Replacement, even if he was a calculating nerd. Except that wasn’t him being cold. That was him lying to himself.

Jason would know. He spent most of his childhood telling himself he didn’t need a loving father. A good part of his teenage years telling everyone that would hear that he didn’t care at all that Bruce kept holding him to the standards of the perfect son that went away. It’s a lot easier to pretend you didn’t care because it makes it hurt less when things are taken away. Jason was a fucking pro at that technique, so much he wonders how the hell he didn’t notice earlier.

“I did what I had to do,” Dick says, defensively. The way he does when he’s second guessing himself, but still in denial about it. “Tim’s a hero of his own right and he’s capable enough that…”

“That you fucking fired him?” Jason barks.

“Damian needs Robin, Jason! He’s just so lost and being Robin gave him a sense of purpose, allowed him to actually be a child.”

“No shit Gremlin is a child! What about Replacement? He’s, what, 15?”

“He’s 17, how do you not know your own brother’s age?”

“Whatever! He’s just a teen and you basically just told him to fuck off.”

Dick sighs. “Look, I tried to help Tim. Tim’s friends tried to help Tim. But he’s a mature person and he wanted some time for himself.”

Ain’t that a familiar song. A good dose of leave me the fuck alone while still wearing a goddamn bat on his chest and making sure to make enough noise to draw attention. He doesn’t like how close it hits to home, how Dick, who’s supposed to be the best of them, ends up being just as shit as recognizing emotions as any other Bat. Jason laughs without any humor.

Incensed, Dick’s jaw sets in challenge as he adds: “I trust Tim and I respected his choice to leave on his own mission, because he knows what’s right for him.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night,” Jason says. “You’re right. Give the demon what he needs. Replacement is a grown ass adult because you respect him so much .”

“Jason, I didn’t say that…”

“He was never a kid here, Dick, even I know that. You all keep throwing shit at him, messes for him to fix ‘cause it’s fine, it’s little Timmy, he’s so fucking capable, he can take it. Have you ever considered that he was always an adult because you all are the fucking children?”

I have always been a patch job sounds awfully similar to I’m here because he got lonely after you left.

But apparently Dick is done exercising his brotherly patience and Jason hit a nerve.

“What do you know about him? You never bothered to talk to him, to spend time with him. You don’t know shit about Tim.”

Jason scoffs. Dick’s face grows unevenly red.

“You don’t, Jason! You were busy trying to kill him. Remember that bonding experience? Must have been fun for him. Having the hero he grew up admiring trying to murder him?”

Jason throws the first punch. Dick easily dodges, the motherfucker, the damn superior Robin.

Screw it, Jason thinks as they start yet another classic Robin Brawl that would only end when Ninja Girl mysteriously dropped from the ceiling and kicked both of their asses.

Jason doesn’t hear from the cave for a while. His phone gets a weird virus, so he guesses Oracle heard he pushed Dick down the stairs. He just tosses the whole thing away and decides that screw his stupid case with the weird code, screw detective work. The biggest detectives aren’t around anymore. He'll just call Kory and convince her to help torch the place up and hopefully the new Batman and Robin will have to deal with the aftermath.

The next time Jason hears from his brothers, it’s a frantic call from Dick that makes Jason’s blood turn into ice: freaking Ra’s Al Ghul is in Gotham doing his whole Head of the Demon thing. He grabs his bike and he’s still on the comms with Dick as he heads to the manor because Alfred is in there.

“What did Gremlin do?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Dick answers and Jason can barely hear him over the wind. He’s probably swinging around Gotham as he speaks. “It was Tim. Tim’s back and Ra’s is after him and everyone he cares about.”

Fuck. This is the kid Dick trusted to go out alone on a self-discovery journey or whatever. Jason wonders what the hell he had been up to get that much unwanted attention.

In the end, everything works out, kind of. No one on their side dies, but Tim does get thrown out of a window. Of a very, very, veeery tall building. Jason still thinks he got off too easy. As smart as he is, Tim shouldn’t have survived a run in with Ra’s.

Jason is curious enough about it to stay in the cave after the fact. He and Dick sit near Tim’s bed while Leslie works her magic. Dick doesn’t take his eyes from his little brother’s pale face for even a second.

“We almost lost him,” he whispers at some point. “Again, we… I almost lost him.”

“But you didn’t,” Jason says, voice flat. “You saved him.”

Dick bites his lower lip hard enough to break the skin. Jason punches his shoulder to snap him out of it.

“Jay, about last time…”

“Ugh, don’t apologize, you freak. Why can’t you just bottle up your emotions and pretend nothing happened like the rest of this stupid family?”

That makes Dick give him a weak smile. If not for the bottling up part, for the part in which Jason admits they’re a family.

“You were… well, not right. I still think Tim shouldn’t be treated like a sidekick anymore,” Dick continues, despite Jason’s disgusted noises. “But he shouldn’t be left alone either. No one in this family should.”

Jason pretends to be gagging long enough that Dick gives up on trying to be a sensible adult and returns to silently watching over his brother.

After that, it’s a matter of stalling and by stalling he ends up watching the other Bats. He finds from Alfred that Ninja Girl isn’t looming over Tim’s bed because she’s in Hong Kong. Brat girl comes and goes the whole night and Jason doesn’t understand why she can’t simply sit down and wait as a pile of nerves like Dick is doing. At some point, she reads the morning newspaper and starts making so much fuss the one Jason doesn’t know the name - Dave? Dylan? - takes her upstairs to calm her down. Damian is nowhere to be found

In the end, Jason manages to be there when Replacement wakes up. Everyone is busy celebrating, too elated that Replacement is fine, so much they forget Jason is still lurking around. No one sees when his face goes pale and he feels like he’s going to puke.

“How did you know I was going to catch you?” Dick asks.

Tim gives him a tired smile. “You’re my brother, Dick. I knew you’d save me.”

Fuck.

Fuck. It’s like looking into a goddamn mirror, except Tim is so much better at this than Jason ever was. So much that he might even be fooling himself.

But he can’t fool Jason. Dick wants to believe in the best of them, he wants them all to be sane and safe and happy - as much as a Bat can be, at least - but Jason is more of a realist. He knows no one can plan that far ahead. He knows Tim went to a meeting with the Head of the Demon fully aware that he would most likely be carried out in a coffin. Considering Dick’s misstep from a couple months earlier and the fact that Tim had already assigned him and Damian a task, Batman was the last person Tim was expecting to show up.

Of course Dick would save him, any of them. Despite his issues with Bruce, Jason had his hero worship towards his brother restored pretty fast. Dick, the golden boy, the perfect son, loved him no matter what and Jason loved him back. Knew now that Dick had love enough to go around for all of them - all of them. But did Tim know that?

Tim finished his little mission, wrapped it all pretty with a bow, making sure no one kicked the bucket. Except for himself. Timothy Drake-Wayne was the contingency plan for Batman’s contingency plan, but he didn’t care enough to make a plan for himself.  

Bruce is gone. Dick is painfully blind. The Drakes are dead. Alfred has his hands full. The Behemoths or the Little League, or whatever the hell the super kids call themselves now, were just that. Kids. Jason curses to himself, because, if no one else will watch out for Replacement, it’s none of his fucking business.

It’s not.

However…

Jason doesn’t know how to put his not-plan in action. He can’t exactly walk up to Tim and say hey, I think we’re not so different, you and I, so I’m worried for your safety. I know I tried to kill you, but that like... two years ago, get over it. Let’s be friends.

Before he figures it out, he hears that Bruce is back. The real Bruce.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it, so he decides to put some distance between him and the family one more time as he takes some weeks to process. He goes out of town to hang out with his friends. He is done with Gotham bullshit for a while.

Unfortunately, Jason finds himself facing his worst enemy: the damn encrypted data.

He hates that dealers now do their thing through the internet. Who the fuck buys marijuana online? Where is the poetry in that? The class of being friends with the sketchy guy that lives around the corner and hangs out with you while you smoke? If they’re gonna sell oregano online to rich white kids, fine, but they’re selling heavy stuff to people that live in his territory and there is a thing bigger than just drugs, if Jason’s hunch is right. He could confirm it by cracking the numbers he stole from their stupidly unguarded computers.

Except the encryption is too complicated for him to access the files.

Well, isn’t that the perfect excuse to take a visit to the kid’s apartment.

Because that is the situation right now. The kid is emancipated, controlling Wayne Enterprises and living by his damn self. There is so much to unpack that Jason wants to throw away the whole suitcase.

He should probably do just that, or at least that’s what he thinks when he climbs to Tim’s balcony (in his head, he hears Dick’s voice going what do you hate about front doors, man?) and he is immediately pushed to the ground.

He is wearing his helmet, sure, but it doesn’t make it less painful when someone fucking stomps on his head, forcing his face against the floor.

“Fuck,” is all Jason thinks of saying.

He then kicks his assailant in the shin and is satisfied when they tumble backwards. Unfortunately for him, they - she - doesn’t fall over the railing, she just stays away long enough to give him time to stand.

A bald girl wearing a distasteful crop top glares daggers at him. She is already back on her fighting stance - one that looks way too familiar for Jason’s taste - ready to strike. And strike she does.

Her movements are similar to Jason’s - fast, strong, unpredictable, unfair - but she has the advantage of being more slender and having more freedom of movement in the small space. All Jason can do is defend himself and not get tossed over the edge. Who the fuck is this girl? Why is she attacking him? Doesn’t she know he is the freaking Red Hood? He just wanted the damn-

“What on Earth are you guys doing on my balcony?”

The girl freezes. Jason does not. He lands a punch straight on her nose and she falls backwards, her mouth opening in pain even if no sound comes out.

“What the hell, Hood!”

Tim rushes to the girl’s side.

“What the hell Hood?” Jason parrots, indignant. “I just got here and she attacked me!”

Tim frowns and turns to the girl. “Is that true?”

Instead of answering, the girl holds her bloody nose and glares at him. She uses her free hand to show Tim four fingers. Tim sighs.

“I know it’s the fourth time you’ve had your nose broken,” Tim gives her a wry smile. “But the three other times you had it coming. And maybe even this time. Why did you attack Red Hood?”

She makes the gesture of someone walking with two fingers then points at Tim’s balcony door. Jason doesn’t know a lot of ASL, but those don’t seem to be the same signs Cassandra uses.

“She attacked me because she thought I was trying to break in?” He asks. “You have a bodyguard now?”

Tim stands and holds out his hand to the girl. She begrudgingly takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. “Why don’t we all go inside before someone notices the Red Hood on my balcony?”

Jason grumbles in annoyance but does make his way in. Tim is right behind him and Jason can’t help but think he’s acting as a shield in case the girl wants revenge for her nose.

“Come here, Pru, I’ll get something cold for your nose.”

Jason takes a look around. As they cross the living room, he notices it looks like a shiny rich person apartment you’d see in a magazine. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s new crib, and he knows the kid just moved in, but the fact that the place looks like a hospital’s reception makes him feel some sort of way.

Fortunately, the kitchen is a bit better. Not much, but it’s something. There are papers spread across the table, dirty glasses in the sink, a mug full of black steaming tea, Tim’s laptop open on top of a pile of books, and there are pictures on the fridge. Jason remembers vaguely Dick mentioning that one of the kids had a thing for photography and another liked drawing. He has to assume Tim is the photographer as he takes a good look at them: one of Brat girl’s grinning face with a big heart magnet, one of Tim and Cassandra sharing the same reading chair, one of Bruce in one of those fancy sweaters he used to wear at home, one of Dick and Cassandra doing handstands, one of a red head kid, behind him Tim, a muscular girl and an even more muscular guy. Jason doesn’t need to be a detective to figure those, even without the uniforms, are Impulse, Wonder Girl and Superboy.

“So,” Tim starts. He hands the girl a pack of frozen peas and shrugs at her dirty look. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Without ceremony, the girl takes a seat by the table and tries to steal a glance at Tim’s laptop. He casually closes it and smiles at her. She scoffs.

“First, you explain the bodyguard,” Jason says, gesturing to the girl.

“Right. Where are my manners? Pru, this is Red Hood. Hood, this is Prudence.”

He doesn’t turn to her so she can read his lips or use gestures to speak, so Jason figures she isn’t deaf, only mute. Maybe it’s something like Cassandra?

“Really? Prudence? That’s ironic. ”

She shows Jason her middle finger. Definitely not deaf then.

Unlike Prudence, Jason doesn’t make himself at home. When he crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything for a minute more, Tim reads his silence correctly and adds, “We’re working together for a while and there are a lot of people that want us dead, so you’ll have to forgive her. She saw a suspicious guy trying to get into my place and she assumed the worst.”

Jason quirks an eyebrow. Tim can’t see his expression behind the helmet, but he sighs nonetheless.

“Come on. She couldn’t know I sometimes work with the Red Hood too.”

I sometimes work with. Ouch. Jason supposes that’s fair, though. Tim hasn’t exactly been informed of Jason’s newfound empathy or his protective streak.

“How did you know where I live, by the way?” Tim asks.

“Alfred told me you moved,” Jason says. “I got your address from Cassandra.”

Tim’s brows disappear under his messy fringe. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Took a lot of convincing before she believed I didn’t want to kill you in your sleep.”

At that, Tim snorts. He’s still grinning when he asks, “What did you want it for then?”

“Tech support,” he says as he fishes a small flash drive from his pocket. “I was hoping you could crack some files for me.”

Tim takes it and nods. “I’ll check it out. I’ll send the results to you as soon as I have them. Anything else?”

Again… ouch. Apparently imprudent girl is welcome to kick back and hang out, but Jason is just a fellow associate that came to hand in an assignment and promptly piss off.

Then Jason realizes that that was exactly what their relationship was like before Tim went around the world to fight Ra’s al Ghul. Damn.

Well. It’s not like he can take off his helmet and stick around when there is a stranger in there, especially when Tim carefully introduced him as the Red Hood instead of good ol’ Jason Todd. He just wanted to check on the kid and he did. No need to get all clingy. That’s Dick’s thing, not his.

It isn’t until much later that Jason realizes how pointless the visit was. He wanted to see if the kid was okay. He suspected he wasn’t, but it wasn’t like he had any idea of what to do about it.

Lucky for him, Tim looked a lot better than last time. Less dead eyed, more like he has some sort of purpose. The fact that Dick is included in his little photo collection must mean they made amends. Whether it was because Jason’s whooping Dick’s ass or in spite of it he’ll never know. Based on what he knows about Tim, the kid might have just worked everything out by himself and forgiven Dick on his own terms.

Despite his decision to take care of Tim from then on, Jason is definitely not great at it. He doesn't think he lost the rights to admonish Dick for not talking to his brother. The fact is Jason isn't great with words. He wants to help Tim through actions.

Still the question remains: how?

(And Tim emails him the files he needed 8 hours later and Jason worries that the kid didn’t sleep, which… great. This is just great.)

Less than two nights later, someone gets into Jason's frequency. He's about to head out for patrol when a creaking sound inside his helmet precedes a familiar voice slightly twisted by static.

"Red Hood, this is Red Robin. Do you copy?"

Right. He goes by Red Robin now.

"What you want, rep… kid?" Jason inwardly winces at his misstep.

There is a moment of confused silence before Tim mercifully decides not to ask what that was. "I'm pursuing a lead in your territory."

Jason hums. "What's it? I'll handle it."

"No!" Tim says too fast. "I mean… it's my case. I just thought you could take the night off? Please?"

This is supposed to be the smart Robin, right? He does know that Jason isn’t a complete moron, right?

“What’s in it for me?” Jason asks.

If this was Damian, he’d get a colorful death threat. If this was Dick, a winded speech on how brothers are supposed to have each other’s backs and he's just asking for a tiny favor, Jason, don’t make me make my ex-girlfriend hack into your phone and block Netflix again. Tim, however, knows that everything has a price and has an answer ready.

“You owe me for those files I decoded for you.”

Straight to the point. No bullshit. Jason is starting to really like this kid.

“Fair enough. You go follow your lead and I won’t murder you for being in my territory.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Hood.”

Jason didn’t say anything about taking the night off, though.

Jason knows that, if he was working alone, Tim wouldn’t ask for permission. He would let himself in and out of Jason's territory assuming Jason wouldn’t even notice - he’d done it before as Robin, and Jason did notice but pretended not to. He can’t track Red Robin as easily, but the fact that he doesn’t want Red Hood around means there is something or someone he can’t control tagging along… and who’s the one person even Tim Drake can never control?

“Brat girl,” Jason mutters to himself, a cocky grin spreading on his face. One of his informants just confirmed he saw Batgirl driving whatever the fuck that is that capsule vehicle into an empty building just south of Jason’s place.

Oracle is probably out of town again, otherwise she wouldn’t allow her precious not-daughter to be messing around with Tim in Jason’s territory. But then, if most of the rumors are correct, even Barbara can’t quite control the new Batgirl.

He wonders what the duo are up to as he lets himself into the abandoned place through a hole in the ceiling. Red Hood walks on the rafters in the dark until he can hear familiar voices. He stops on his tracks when he notices that Red Robin and Batgirl aren’t alone. Wonder Girl and Impulse stick out like bright red sore thumbs against Gotham’s darkness.

Red Hood hears enough to know they’re planning on saving someone - one of Impulse’s friends? - from a local group connected to Black Mask. Their plan is solid, but it’s hardly a task herculean enough to warrant the presence of a speedster and an amazon. Red Robin makes it sound like it’s absolutely necessary nonetheless, assigning each of them a role that fits their powers and going over every little detail. It’s the first time Hood sees the kid in a position of leadership and he thinks it suits him. He seems extremely at ease.

Actually… that’s not quite it. He’s not as wary of the world as he is when he’s with the Batfamily. Not Batman’s perfect mini-detective, not Nightwing’s model little brother, not WE CEO. He’s still very much a hero, a Robin, but it’s possible to see he’s seventeen under the cowl. Even his posture changes, his shoulders relax and he allows himself to be… God, himself. That must be the first time Jason sees Tim completely in his element, no tension, no (metaphorical) masks.

Real Red Robin stays close to his friends. Very close. Hell, Impulse is almost sitting on his lap, his arm firmly wrapped around Red Robin’s waist as he points at some sort of map his wrist pad is showing. Batgirl is clinging to his other side, her chin resting on his shoulder using the excuse to see better what he’s showing. Hadn’t those two broken up?

Then Red Robin says something so softly not even Hood picks up. The other three teens get tense. Impulse nods and disappears in a gust of wind as his friends wait in silence.

Half a second later, something hits Hood’s back at a very alarming speed because of course Red Robin noticed someone listening and sent his speedster friend to get him. He curses while he falls, barely managing to roll fast enough to avoid serious knee damage when he lands.

“Jason!” Red Robin whines not unlike an embarrassed child crying out mom, not in front of my friends!

“Maybe check who’s spying on you before sending a child bullet careening into their back, will ya?” Jason complains.

Wonder Girl frowns. “Is that…”

“The Red Hood,” Batgirl confirms in a flat voice. “Yup.”

“Isn’t he a criminal?” Impulse asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

A facepalming Red Robin groans. “He doesn’t do crime anymore.” Under Batgirl’s skeptical glare, he corrects, “He doesn’t do bad crimes anymore. What are you doing here, Hood? You said you were taking the night off!”

“I said I wouldn’t shoot you for being in my territory,” Hood corrects. “But I didn’t say anything about your super friends, because I didn’t think you’d be breaking so many rules in so little time. Really? Bringing metas to Gotham?”

Red Robin simply shrugs. “What Batman can’t see doesn’t hurt him.”

Batgirl snickers and Hood grins a little under his helmet.

“Little Timmy,” he gasps, resting his hand on his chest in mock shock.

“Shut up, why are you here?”

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up.”

The other three kids look from Red Hood to Red Robin. It’s obvious that whatever Tim’s verdict is, they’re going to accept it. Even Stephanie. And she knows Jason (sort of).

“Fine,” Red Robin groans. “But no shooting anyone.”

“No promises.”

Wonder Girl and Impulse are obviously wondering whether they’re joking or not. Knowing they’re completely serious, Batgirl makes a face and pokes Red Robin’s cheek. He frowns at her and the two of them seem to have a conversation consisting of weird mouths and head shakes for a moment. Jason would know. He and Dick used to do that all the time. Finally, whatever face Red Robin is making convinces her and she lets out a defeated sigh.

“Well then, ladies,” Batgirl deadpans, “let’s get this bread.”

Despite Dick’s best efforts, Jason never quite fit in with the Titans. With Tim and Stephanie, however, he can work.

Breaking into one of Black Mask’s hideouts is a piece of cake, if not outright fun. He has to hand it to Stephanie. She is not as cunning as Barbara or as deadly as Cassandra, but the girl can blow up a marijuana deposit like no one else.

Sure, the smoke makes them at least 30% high—all of them except Impulse, whose metabolism won’t let him get intoxicated, to which… Just R.I.P. you funky little man, Jason really feels for him.

Even with the little diversion, there were still plenty of crooks to fight. Wonder Girl takes care of most of them on her own— amazons, man —and soon enough Impulse comes running, carrying a dark-skinned boy wearing power-dampening cuffs who keeps yelling at them in Spanish. At that, Red Robin announces they’re retreating.

Tim looks a lot more comfortable with his peers than he is with the Bats. Part of Jason wonders if he could’ve been like that. If he would have ended up differently if he had actually stayed with the Titans and made friends like Tim had. He tells himself not to go down that path, because he is who he is, he certainly doesn’t make friends in that teen sitcom way and you can’t change the past.

He is genuinely glad that Tim has those friends, though. He’s glad that he can feel that way despite the hint of jealousy.

As they leave a ruined hideout behind, Wonder Girl and Impulse are drowning Red Robin in hugs and cheering so loud one would forget they’re still in Gotham. Their friend laughs with them even with the stress of being so rambunctiously rescued. Batgirl slaps her arm around Hood’s shoulder and admires the Titans being loud as if congratulating themselves on the job done.

If all of them— all of them—are still smiling themselves silly as they leave, it’s only 50% because of the marijuana.

Jason quickly learns that Tim doesn’t like owing people. When Jason asked Tim to crack some encrypted documents, he just needed the damn files. He didn’t expect the kid to show up to tear down the place when Jason decided he had enough reason to dismantle the operation.

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up,” Red Robin quips as he nudges a goon with his foot. The man groans, but doesn’t get up. Seemingly satisfied, Red Robin crouches down and starts cuffing the man to another by his side.

“Remind me to never ask for your help again,” Red Hood says.

Red Robin glowers. “I saved your ass from getting stabbed about three times.”

“I shot the kneecaps of four guys trying to murder you, so don’t expect me to thank you.”

They hear sirens. Red Robin stands. “Well, guess our job here is done.”

Hood nods. It’s been a while since he fought side by side with a fellow Bat, just him and another Robin and... it was nice. Roy and Kori are great partners and all, but they don’t have the same training a Robin does. They don’t get the specific maneuvers and the subtle secret signs. The fact that it had been so fun fighting side by side with Red Robin makes Jason feel like his not-plan of taking care of the kid was finally going somewhere.

Then Red Robin stretches his arm to grapple his way out of there and gasps.

“Red?”

“Uh…” He is now pressing his hand to his side.

“Is… is that blood?”

“Uhhhh…”

“Did you get stabbed and didn’t notice, you freaking idiot?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes over the cowl. “Why me?”

Red Hood sighs. “Relax, kid, it doesn’t look that deep.”

“I’m gonna have to call Batman,” Red Robin whines. “A’s gonna kill me.”

“Over a tiny stab wound? Don’t be a pussy, I’m sure you can stitch that yourself.”

“The stitches aren’t the problem, it’s just the medicine…” Red Robin says, making vague hand gestures. “I have no spleen.”

And then there’s that.

“I’m sorry. You what?”

Red Robin pulls a guilty face visible even under the cowl. Jason wouldn’t blame Alfred for killing him. He has no spleen and he just… decided it was a good idea to bring a staff to a gunfight at one of the grimiest places of Gotham.

Tim Drake-Wayne, everyone, smartest Robin to date.

Jason, however, decides not to kill Tim for his stupidity. He recognizes that particular frown. It’s the I-messed-up-and-I-don’t-want-dad-to-find-out face.

The GCPD sirens are getting closer.

“I’ve got a big collection of antibiotics back at one of my safehouses,” he mentions casually. “I could patch you up so A doesn’t have to.”

Tim’s wide eyes are evident. Jason wonders if this is him being able to read the kid too well or if Tim straight up sucks at hiding his emotions. It’s probably a bit of both.  

“You know. As thanks for helping me.”

“I thought you wouldn’t thank me.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

By now, they can see the red and blue police lights.

“Lead the way.”

He rolls his eyes and drags the kid to his bike. He really hopes the pigs didn’t see them, because it’s bad enough that a hero showed up to Red Hood’s bust, he doesn’t need any cops thinking that he kidnapped Red Robin or any shit like that.

“Are we going to the one behind the new theater or the one around crime alley?” Tim casually asks.

Jason freezes halfway through mounting his bike. “How the fuck do you know about those?”

“I know the location of all of your safehouses,” Tim admits.

“Batman knows about my safehouses?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, I’m not Batman.”

...oh.

That’s… nice. Kind of. A confirmation that he can trust the kid to have his back.

“Smug nerd,” Jason mumbles.

Tim only chuckles in response. They set off to Jason’s place.

The rest of the night is peaceful. At least for a Bat’s standards. Jason helps Tim disinfect his wound and stitch it closed while Tim raids Jason’s medicine stash until he finds the ones he needs. Jason promises to hook him up with his supplier so he doesn’t have to rely so much on the cave. By the time they’re done, Tim’s lips are permanently curled upwards.

When he starts shuffling awkwardly as if looking for a way to say goodbye, Jason nonchalantly announces where he can find clean towels and clothes, as if this is a thing they do everyday. Tim seems baffled, but thankfully he doesn’t call Jason’s bullshit and obediently heads to the bathroom. By the time he’s done, Jason is fixing a meal for the two of them and some stupid movie is on TV—never the news, god, Jason hates watching the news.

Like a skittish stray, Tim is unsure of what to do with himself at first, but he catches the cue fast enough. He sits on the couch all stiff and restless until something on the screen grabs his attention.

“You like Wendy the Werewolf Stalker?” Tim asks, eyes wide.

“Do I like fucking what?”

Jason just needed the background noise to avoid freaking out about  how weird he’s being right now. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Tim launches a rant on how amazing Wendy is and half of it goes over Jason’s head. He just gets that apparently Tim and Superboy both have a crush on this werewolf hunting chick and they used to spend hours watching her instead of doing actual work at Titans Tower.

He also manages to actually eat the food Jason made, which is a win in Jason’s book.

It’s a nice night, overall.

It becomes, not a habit, but a thing. Tim sometimes shows up to one of Jason’s safehouses needing a stitch job or medicine. Jason doesn’t know how he nails which one Jason is at currently or if he just goes to every single one still bleeding until he finds Jason. Or even if he just lets himself in and takes care of his wounds without any help. If so, Jason wouldn’t blame him. He’d choose his crappy hideouts over Tim’s soulless apartment any day.

On the third time it happens, Tim isn’t hurt at all. He just wants to bitch about Vicki Vale stalking him and his supposed ex-fiancée that he's actually trying to date. Jason feeds him real food, as usual, and listens to what he has to say, as unusual. They end up on the couch watching A Nightmare on Elm Street, which, oddly enough, has Tim getting overly enthusiastic about going to bed because he’s curious about the magic behind Freddy Krueger. Jason tells him to let him know if any dream demons show up when he leaves Tim dozing off on the couch.

Tim starts texting Jason. At first, it’s all very professional. Messages like 1 of the stupid crooks in your territory almost killed robin yesterday do smth abt it followed by I don’t care that he’s a demon in a kevlar vest Hood you didn’t have to deal with nightwing crying afterwards!!! Then they slowly shift into something more casual on the lines of is dis u? An d attached a picture of Elizabeth Bennet wearing the red Power Ranger helmet which… What sort of context led to that meme being created?

Jason pretends not to care, but he preens with pride when Tim laughs at his dark jokes. Stupid gallows humor that would have made Bruce call an expensive therapist and Dick squirm in discomfort have the kid snorting coffee out of his nose.

It’s like they’re friends.

Part of him sometimes toys with the idea of them being normal kids —or as normal as you can be in Gotham—and he realizes that he would’ve made friends with Tim so fucking fast. Dick is the golden child and all of them would end up worshiping him and respecting him as their older brother, of course. Tim would be added to their family and Jason, not-murdered, regular problem-child Jason, would resist him at first, but he would soon see that he wasn't just an annoying nerd. He was a fun, annoying nerd. They would gang up on Dick, as younger brothers ought to do, and Jason would protect Tim from bullies and Tim would use his good son credit to get Jason out of trouble with Bruce.

This, however, may be as good as it gets for people with their fucked up upbringing. Jason already knew Tim wasn’t your regular spoiled rich boy and they bond over having shit childhoods even if they don’t talk about it.

All in all it feels nice to be looked up to. To have the kid come to him when he’s in trouble. To have someone looking at him with a shine in his eyes like the one Jason has when he looks at Dick. It makes Jason feel like he’s worth something. He sees Tim get comfortable with him after weeks of acting like a stray cat and he knows the kid feels the same. It’s a new feeling for both of them.

It’s like they’re really brothers.

Being part of the Red Robin fan club, Jason finds out, gives him good credit with the Bats.

Bruce and Dick are always going to be concerned about Jason’s slightly loose moral compass. Gremlin is always going to hate him because he’s a Gremlin. Barbara tolerates him at best.

Stephanie, however, shows up unannounced to one of Red Hood’s busts and laughs it off when he complains about Batgirl ruining his rep. She then invites Jason to watch a movie with her since they finished early. He thinks that’d be very weird, so he refuses. Unbothered, she says an airy “Maybe next time” before leaving.

He thinks a shadow once told him to come by the manor more often, almost giving him a heart attack. He thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong, for fuck’s sake; when did she come back?

One time he texts Tim for tech support and no one but the Signal shows up at Jason’s doorstep with a codebreaker and a list of instructions from Red Robin. Duke doesn’t look as wary of Jason as he once was and the two quickly fall into friendly banter, complaining about Tim’s nerdiness.

Jason knows if he asked Steph about it, he would never hear the end of it. Cass isn’t the easiest person to hold a conversation with. He guesses Duke is decent enough not to dwell on it, so he asks,

“Why are y’all suddenly okay with me?”

Duke quirks an eyebrow at him. Fortunately, he’s smart enough that Jason doesn’t need to explain further. “Tim trusts you,” he says simply. “Tim is the holder of the one brain cell of this family, so long we follow his cues, we’re golden.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Why, you don’t want us around?”

He mumbles something about it not being a big deal. Duke shrugs it off and changes the subject. Jason knows he’s doing it for his sake, because Duke might be the kindest person in their whole messed up family. Jason feels bad for refusing to learn his name for so long.

So it seems like two-thirds of the Batgirls and Signal were always less worried about Jason’s past than they were about his rivalry with Robin III.

And, fine, Jason does get a little jealous of that but he’s mature-ish enough to take what he can get. Plus Stephanie is funny as shit and it’s always fun to annoy Barbara by getting Batgirl involved in his fights, especially when Red Robin is around to back him up.

Everything is sort of nice now.

Sometimes, however, Jason wakes up in a cold sweat with the taste of copper in his mouth and a nightmare gunshot still ringing in his ears. He tried to kill Tim. He could’ve killed his little brother. He’s thankful for the times the nightmares come when Tim is sleeping over, because he can walk to the living room and check on the kid. Remind himself that Tim is alive and breathing under the old blankets and that he’s forgiven Jason. When he isn’t around, Jason is absolutely not above calling him in the middle of the night, making up a stupid case he needs Tim’s help with. For all his smarts, Tim never seems to realize Jason’s true motives.

Now that he thinks about it, he notices that Tim is on good terms with a lot of people that tried to kill him. Jason. Damian. That Prudence girl. He doesn’t find out the details, but he does hear something about Stephanie fucking him up and she’s now his best friend. Jason is more than a little concerned about that forgiving side of his.

Red Hood hates a lot of things. If he were to make a list, it’d take days to write it all down. He knows for sure that on the top of that list would be clowns. There is nothing he hates more than clowns.

Scarecrows are a close second, though.

Definitely close to a tie as he watches Red Robin stumble. “I think…” he mutters. “I think my rebreather is broken.”

“ Shit.”

Red Hood has to think fast. Fear gas is every-fucking-where and he lost sight of Scarecrow three canon-fodder crooks ago. He doesn’t have an extra rebreather, because he’s wearing his helmet and that does the job. He’s used to fighting alone. Not that having another rebreather would do them any good now that Red Robin has already breathed the nasty toxins.

In the end, Hood decides to take the defeat for what it is: a defeat. He throws a smoke bomb on the ground and grabs Red Robin by the waist, ignoring the startled squeak the boy lets out. They need to get out before Scarecrow’s goons realize what they’re doing.

“Stay with me,” Red Hood hisses. “Whatever you’re hearing or seeing, it’s not real.”

They’re five minutes away from his nearest safehouse. It’d be faster to take one of their bikes, but he can’t risk it in case Tim starts hallucinating halfway there. They can make it there swinging, he can keep his brother out of danger.

“I’m fine,” Red Robin says. The way he’s limp in Hood’s hold, says otherwise.  “We’re going home. We’re safe.”

“We’re going home. Close your eyes. Focus on my voice.”

He does it.

“It’s just us now,” Hood reassures him. “We’re on the way to a safehouse where no one can find us and you can rest until the toxin is out of your system. Safe, easy.”

“Steph is fine, Bart is fine, Cassie is fine,” he chants, “Cass is fine, Alfred is fine, Dick is fine, Tam is fine, Pru is fine.”

He keeps listing people that are fine, because of course his fears are all about his friends being hurt. Surprisingly, Hood recognizes all of them. He’s heard Tim talking about all of them repeatedly and he knows their names and personalities, even if he doesn’t have all the faces to match. He isn’t surprised that his friends come first then their family.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Jason encourages. “Who else?”

“Dad..” Tim’s eyes shoot open. “Dad’s gonna kill me. Dad, Dad will know I’m Robin, he’s- He’s gonna take Robin away from me, I can’t- This is the first time I’m being useful.”

Fuck.

“Your dad isn’t here. And you’re not Robin, kid, you’re Red Robin,” Jason reminds him.

“That’s… that’s right. I failed him. I failed Dick, so…”

Double fuck.

“That’s bullshit,” Jason says, but it’s hard to keep the conversation going while he’s carrying Tim’s weight.

They’re two minutes away from safety before Tim starts struggling to get away from Jason. He doesn’t say anything else, which may be more concerning, he just grunts with the effort and squirms. Jason really hopes no one was paying attention enough to notice what looks like Red Hood kidnapping a terrified Red Robin.

“Shit- Stay put, Red, we’re almost home,” Jason says.

Tim’s breath catches and returns, erratic, and Jason can’t bear to look at his horrified face, he hates to see the utter fear that has his brother’s already pale complexion turn ashen, his lips pressed into a line so tight it has got to hurt. Jason starts listing the names of the people that are supposedly fine and that catches Tim’s attention long enough that Jason can swing straight to the fire escape of the abandoned building where he set his hideout.

He sets Tim on the dusty mattress on the corner in a hurry and tosses his helmet aside. He starts undoing Tim’s safety measures so he can remove his cowl. Unlike Jason, he doesn’t wear a domino mask beneath it and Jason makes a mental note of talking to Tim about that later.

“Almost there, Timbers,” Jason says. He rips off his own domino without caring about the sting, hoping a familiar face will help. “I’m here. Now, where do you keep your fear gas antidote? I know you carry some around.”

Tim unconsciously reaches for a particular capsule on his bandolier. That’s enough of an answer for Jason, who pushes his hand away not as gently as he should and reaches for the small vial inside.

“Jay,” Tim whines. “Jay, you’re okay, right?”

Jason blinks, confused. “Of course I’m okay, Timbers. I’m right here.”

And as he rushes to grab the first aid kit under the sink, Jason starts to freak out. This gas isn’t causing hallucinations as much as it’s making Tim feel paranoid, it seems. What if it’s a new formula? What if the antidote doesn’t work? What if Tim keeps having anxious thought after anxious thought, until his heart gives in and-

“Jay!” Tim calls, desperate. “Jay, we have to get Kon! He’s- He’s in danger.” He starts getting up.

“Nope!” Jason pushes him right back into the mattress. “Kon is fine, he’s invulnerable, remember? He’s probably doing superdouche stuff in Metropolis.”

“He’s not, he’s- He’s gonna kill himself, Jay!” There are tears welling up in his eyes and Jason feels like someone just punched him in the gut. After all the shit they went through, he had never seen Tim cry. “He’s gonna sacrifice himself to save everyone, I can’t lose him, please, I’ll do it instead. He’s- No! Please, don’t do it!”

There we go. There are the hallucinations they all know and hate. Tim stretches out his hand as if he’s reaching for an invisible Superboy, so Jason takes the opportunity to start rolling up his sleeve and cleaning the inside of his elbow. Lucky for him, he always has a sanitized syringe. Now he just needs Tim to stay still.

What if it doesn’t work? What if I make it worse?

“Kon El, no,” Tim gasps. “KON EL! CONNER!”

Jason had never seen Impulse going full speed. But he did meet Barry Allen back when he was Robin and he never forgot the deafening noise of someone breaking the barrier of sound. More familiar is the noise of his freaking wall exploding. Before Jason realizes, he’s being ripped away from his screaming brother. He hacks and struggles, but there isn’t a lot he can do when a kryptonian steel arm presses against his throat, effectively pinning him to the wall.

“Give me one reason not to kill you,” Superboy growls, his eyes already glowing red.

Jason would be impressed with the boy’s ability to look murderous if he wasn’t about to have his head melted. He struggles a little more. Superboy doesn’t even seem to notice. Jason then pathetically raises the syringe in his hand and manages to choke out:

“A-antidote.”

Superboy blinks once. His eyes return to the regular shade of blue. He blinks twice. His expression shows only confusion when he releases Jason, that promptly falls on his knees. Jason coughs, touching his throat as if to make sure it’s still intact. Damn clone.

“What happened to him?” Superboy demands.

Tim isn’t trying to get up anymore, but rather convulsing on the same spot, screaming wordlessly in horror, tears streaming freely down his pale cheeks.

Jason coughs some more before he’s able to say something. “A-ask that first next time, will you? It’s… it’s fear gas.”

“And, what, am I supposed to believe you were helping him?” Superboy snarls.

Jason groans. He doesn’t have time for this. Tim has his eyes firmly shut and every scream, every time his voice breaks, it feels like someone is slashing at Jason’s chest, robbing him of air almost as effectively as Superboy did.

“I was about to do that before you interrupted,” Jason shows him the syringe again. “What do you think?”

Superboy squints at him, unhappy with his response.

“We don’t have time for that,” Jason snarls. “At this point, he’s gonna have a heart attack. I need you to hold him still.”

Superboy bites his lip in hesitation but Tim screams his name again and he winces as if the sound is kryptonite for his ears. Finally, he nods and crouches down by the mattress.

“It’s okay, Rob,” he says. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

At that, Tim miraculously relaxes for a second. Jason kneels by his side again and holds the outstretched arm Superboy is keeping still.

“Don’t hurt him,” Jason warns. Judging by the look Superboy gives him, the only reason he’s not getting the laser eye treatment is because he’s the only one around capable of helping Tim.

“No,” Tim whines. “Not Jason…”

Jason freezes. Superboy’s eyes start to glow again.

“Not Jason, not again,” Tim continues, delirious, his expression twisting in pain. “Please, please, don’t, help him, HELP HIM!”

Jason stabs the needle into his pale skin and it’s a miracle that he does it right, because he is shaking. Fuck this. Fuck Scarecrow. It’s wrong, it’s horrible to hear Red Robin begging like that. He hates the way the kid startles with the needle. He’s thankful that Superboy makes sure Tim stays put, because he doesn’t think his trembling hands could do that now.

“It’s okay, Timbers,” Jason hears himself saying, “it’s over now.”

“Please,” Tim sobs again, “I- I’m gonna solve this.”

God. Jason grabs his hand. “You did enough, baby bird. You solved enough already.”

Tim whimpers, but finally starts relaxing. It seems like the antidote is working its magic and the boy falls right asleep.

Superboy refuses to leave, much to Jason’s chagrin. It doesn’t surprise him, though. Conner is Tim’s favorite conversation subject when he’s in a good mood and apparently the clone is ready to just fly to Gotham if he hears Tim’s voice.

“You know, metas aren’t allowed here,” Jason reminds him.

Superboy has been stomping back and forth around Tim’s mattress. He's so angry that Jason is worried he’ll break the floor any minute now, but he stops to give Jason the biggest, meanest glower of the night. He doesn’t look anything like the mental picture Tim painted of him. Even with his ripped skinny jeans and 90’s leather jacket and dumb earrings, Superboy looks absolutely murderous.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see that Tim’s fine,” he says.

Jason sighs.

“Why are we here?” Superboy snaps. “Why didn’t you call Alfred or… or Batman or…”

“Because we don’t do that,” Jason cuts him. “Red Robin is not Batman's sidekick. If we can solve shit without involving Batman, we don’t involve Batman.”

It’s their unspoken rule, Jason knows that since the first time they fought side by side - the first time they had a sleepover - and he brought Tim home to patch him up. They don’t call dad or their older bro if they’re in trouble, because that’ll lead to them being in more trouble. They simply watch out for each other as much as they can.

Superboy isn’t happy with that explanation, but, before he can murder Jason for real, Tim stirs.

Jason and Superboy are kneeling by his side at the same time, which says something, since Jason doesn't have superspeed.

“Timbers?” Jason calls.

“Jay…?” Tim mumbles and his voice is still a little raw from all the screaming. He blinks and his eyes set on his best friend. “Conner? What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Superboy says simply. “I told you all you had to do was call my name.”

“How’s the head?” Jason asks. “You're still smart, right? You can’t afford to lose your brain cells, Timbers, with your ugly face they’re all you have.”

Tim snorts. Then groans. “Fuck off, Jason, don’t make me laugh.”

Jason smiles at him and he doesn’t notice the weird look Superboy is giving them.

“Rob? Do you remember what happened?”

Tim starts to sit up and Superboy is faster than Jason in wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him. He helps Tim rest his back against the wall and the grateful look Tim gives him makes Jason frown a bit because he feels there is something there he’s missing.

“Hmmm… We were fighting Scarecrow,” Tim says. “Fear gas, broken rebreather...” He looks at Jason as if seeking for confirmation. When Jason nods, he continues, “Jay got me out of there and the rest is… Wait. Where is Scarecrow? Did he escape?”

“That should be the last of your worries, Timothy, you almost died of fear,” Superboy scolds.

Tim sighs. “Oh, to be a young vigilante in the XXI century… passing away of fright.”

Superboy doesn’t get it, judging by his expression, but Jason does and he laughs out loud. He doesn’t miss the way Tim’s lip quirk up.

“See, baby bird, this is why I wear a helmet and so should you,” Jason says.

“Okay, but have you considered that we’d look stupid if we were all the man in the iron mask?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “God forbid a whole family fighting criminals in leather fursuits look stupid. We wouldn’t fucking want that.”

Tim laughs, even if his voice is still a little hoarse, and Jason is relieved.

He is so relieved to see his brother fine that he doesn’t pay attention to the fact that Superboy still has his arm around Tim’s shoulders. That Superboy’s eyes get all soft when Tim laughs. That Superboy looks a little hurt when he offers to fly Tim home, but Tim refuses, saying that he’d rather spend the rest of the night here.

“I mean, if that’s fine…?” He glances at Jason, reminding him of those first sleepovers, when he was still unsure whether he’d be welcome or not.

Jason is so done feeling or letting his brother feel like an outsider. “The mattress is big enough for both of us, I don’t see why you’d go back to your own apartment when you can just sleep on a perfectly good mattress on the floor.”

“Hm. Cool then,” Superboy says, but instead of flying out through the giant hole he made on the wall, he shifts his weight from one foot to another awkwardly, clearly stalling.

Both brothers notice it. Neither has a problem interpreting Superboy’s fidgeting. Jason finds it annoying, but Tim gives him a pleading look. Jason sighs.

“You can stay too, big guy, but you gonna have to sleep on the floor.”

Superboy’s face lights up and he definitely doesn’t look like he wanted to melt Jason’s head just a couple of minutes ago. He rambles that it’s all good, he just needs to text Ma Kent to let her know where he is and he’s used to sleeping on the floor of the barn with Krypto and the cows (Jason would find that more upsetting if he didn’t know there is a cow somewhere in the Wayne manor too and Damian sleeps in the cave with it all the time).

In the end, Tim bullies Jason into giving Superboy the thickest blanket he has around. He tries suggesting he should sleep in the blanket and let Jason and Superboy share the mattress, but shuts up mid sentence under their glares.

It’s probably the most awkward sleepover so far, but Tim grins at Jason, grateful, and turns his back to him to be able to talk to Superboy in hushed whispers.

Jason tunes out their conversation and focuses on the fact that he did it. He saved Tim. It doesn’t make up for the times he fucked up in the past, but it sure makes him feel better about the present. He’s also thankful that Tim stayed instead of going to his own place. Hearing your little brother scream in fear for your life isn’t something enjoyable and Jason is sure he would have nightmares about if it wasn’t for the fact that Tim was laying right there in front of him. It’s the sound of his brother’s muffled laughter, mixed with Superboy’s, that lulls him to sleep.

Jason should have noticed then. But he didn’t.

For an intelligent guy, Jason can be really stupid sometimes.

The thing is… Jason is smart. He’s not Tim Drake smart, but he’s still a good detective. He’s also fairly sociable. Or at least he used to be, before he, you know, died and went through all the trauma, etc. He is no Dick Grayson, but he can hold a good conversation, pick up the right social cues, all that crap.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t mess up sometimes.

You see, months go by. Red Hood and Red Robin don’t often go on the field together, after all it’d do a number to both of their reputations, but, when they do, one of them always ends up injured and the other carries him home. It’s like a curse, the universe telling them to stick to their off-patrol partnership. Then a couple of weeks go by and they miss the feeling of fighting side-by-side and there they go again.

Tim keeps showing up at Jason’s place whenever he feels like it and he even hangs around Jason’s visiting friends sometimes. Kori adores Tim from the first time she puts her eyes on him. Roy takes a little longer to warm up, but even he can’t resist the kid. Jason likes it. He likes having his brother around. He likes that they get on like a house on fire.

So much he forgets Tim is a master of hiding shit.

On the week nearing Tim’s 19th birthday, Jason goes to his apartment. He doesn’t realize until he’s halfway there that he hadn’t been to Tim’s place since the night he met Prudence, which is odd, because it’d been basically a year and a half. Still, Tim goes over to Jason’s place all the time. The fact that Jason doesn’t repay the favor has everything to do with the fact that Jason hates Tim’s magazine apartment and nothing else.

Right?

Instead of going for the door, Jason uses his signature move and just swings to the balcony. The door is unlocked - Jason really has to have a talk with Tim about security, they’re in Gotham, for fuck’s sake - and he lets himself in.

To Tim’s credit, the place looks more well lived in now. There are mismatched pillows on the couch, a forgotten mug and a couple of books on the coffee table. Jason recognizes his copy of The Count of Monte Cristo and makes an annoyed sound noticing Tim’s bookmarker is still somewhere in the middle of the book even if it’s been weeks since Jason let him borrow it.

“Tim?” Jason calls. It’s half past nine, a little early for vigilante standards, but…

He hears the sound of someone sputtering and coughing from the kitchen. There he is.

Jason heads there and finds Tim desperately grabbing paper towels to clean coffee he apparently just spilled on his bare chest.

“J-Jason!”

“Jumpy aren’t we?” Jason comments. “What’s up, baby bird?”

It’s clear that Tim had just woken up, judging by his messy hair and the fact that he’s wearing nothing but red sweatpants with Superman’s symbol all over. His mildly terrified expression is weird, though. Tim is usually slow in the morning, but not that easy to startle.

“What are you doing here?” Tim whispers, clearly panicking.

The fact that Jason never visits Tim’s place suddenly comes to his mind. The possibility of him not being welcome hits him and it’s surprisingly painful. He thought they were doing well, that the kid liked him. All this time, was he being arrogant?

As his brain scrambles for something to say, something to think, he notices a sound that he hadn’t registered before: the shower.

Suddenly Tim’s rapidly reddening cheeks and doe wide eyes gain a new meaning. Jason forgets the hurt and a sly smile stretches on his face.

“Oh my god. Oh god, this is priceless. Baby bird, do you have a lady guest from last night?”

Tim makes a weird choking sound and this is too good, Jason is too delighted, look at little Timmy go, already getting it. (Jason would’ve chosen different pants for the morning after, but alas.)

Then a voice calls out: “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

A male voice.

Tim’s face becomes three shades darker, now perfectly matching his pants. Jason’s grin is now frozen on his face, his eyes wide with the realization.

The shower stops.

“Tim?” The voice calls again.

“I’m fine, Kon!” Tim responds and his voice is surprisingly even, considering he looks like he’s having an aneurysm.

That’s a bat for you. Master of hiding their emotions.

Sort of.

Kon, Tim said. Jason realizes that Tim isn’t wearing Superman merch. The sweatpants are Superboy themed.

Jason still remembers Superboy’s protective streak all those months ago and the fact that he woke up to the two of them holding hands - at the time, he thought nothing of it, because it had been a stressful night and he didn’t blame either boy for wanting to make sure the other was okay - and he thinks of all the subsequent times Tim went on and on about Conner and how a couple of weeks ago Tim just stopped mentioning Conner altogether.

God, Jason is the worst detective ever.

Tim pushes Jason out of the kitchen and towards the living room, presumably farther from the bathroom where his boyfriend with super hearing was showering.

“Fuck,” Tim mutters, “ fuckfuckfuck… ”

And he looks and sounds so distraught that Jason loses all the eagerness to tease him, concern quickly replacing any initial surprise he might have been feeling.

“Look,” Tim murmurs, looking anywhere but at Jason’s eyes, “it’s not… we’re just…”

Tim scrambles for words and this is so unlike him - Tim always has a plan, always knows what to say - it takes a moment for Jason to catch up on why he’s a stuttering mess. Jason had been so excited to find out his little brother had a boyfriend he forgot he lived in a world where homophobia was a thing.

“Timbers, chill out.” Jason grabs Tim’s hands from where they’re still resting on his shoulders. “It’s just me.”

Tim dares raise his gaze to meet Jason’s and it hurts a bit to see still a little fear in his blue eyes. Jason gives him an encouraging grin.

“I can’t believe you officially bagged a kryptonian. Way to go, kid.”

His shoulders slouch in utter relief right before he starts blushing again. What a cute kid.

“You keep calling me kid. You’re not that older. And don’t say it like that,” Tim mumbles.

“Like what? Like you’re snogging Superboy?” Tim punches him on the shoulder and Jason laughs. “Now I know why you were in such a hurry to leave the manor, you wanted your own place to bring your boyfriend over…”

“That’s not why I left and who said anything about a boyfriend? Maybe this was just a one night stand.”

Jason gives him a condescending look. “Timbers, I might have not realized you’re gay, but I do know you. You’re a boyfriend kinda guy.”

Tim rolls his eyes and mumbles something about assuming shit. “I’m bi,” he says.

“Cool,” Jason says, a shit-eating grin never leaving his face.

“Fuck,” Tim groans and lets himself fall on the couch. “How do you de-escalate an emotional situation so fast?”

“It’s a Bat thing, and you know how to do it too. All of us are trained to avoid emotions like the plague.”

“I was not prepared to come out when I got up this morning,” Tim admits.

Humming, Jason finally realizes that Tim doesn’t want to skip the emotions for this one. He sighs. The things he does for his brothers.

“It’s not a big deal, though,” he says. “I mean, you’re happy right?”

“I’m never happy.”

“Don’t quote Zuko. You started the real talk. You don’t get to bat your way out of it now.”

A sigh. “I’m happy. Conner is… the best.”

Jason nods. “Then it’s all good. I’m sure all the others would say the same.”

“You can't tell them!” Tim snaps, his eyes suddenly wide with panic again. “Seriously, Jay, you can’t-”

“Calm down, kid,” Jason cuts him off. “When did I make a habit of spilling your secrets to the B-man? It's none of their business.” Tim visibly relaxes and Jason adds: “Actually… Want me to make your house Dick-proof?”

“...what?”

“I mean, not kryptonian dick, you’re clearly into that,” and he ignores it when Tim pops him on the back of the head. “I mean Dick Dick, our brother. I could set up a better security system so you don’t have to worry about one of your siblings walking into something scarring, especially the clingy one.”

“No security system can stop Dick’s clinginess.”

“How do you think I keep him off my place?”

That’s when their little pow wow gets interrupted by more kryptonian skin than Jason ever wanted to see as Conner walks in with nothing but the smallest of the towels wrapped around his waist.

“Babe, what is--” He notices Jason and slips on literally nothing, barely catching himself before falling on his ass. “ Shit- I mean, nothing, I mean, we were just binging Wendy!”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he does give Tim a look that says it all. He wasn't judging earlier, but he is now. Tim gives him a look that definitely means shut up.

In the end, Jason stays for breakfast.

It’s only mildly awkward, because he and Tim fill the silence talking about the latest case Jason’s working on while Conner makes them pancakes. Judging by the fact that he’s getting the ingredients from a bunch of plastic bags, he must have brought all the food with him. If anything, Jason is grateful that he and Alfred are no longer the only people trying to get Tim to eat actual food.

When Tim turns to Conner for his opinion, leaving Jason to enjoy his coffee, Jason looks around and notices that there are new pictures on the fridge. There are some of those disgustingly cute pictures of Tim and Conner, their cheeks pressed together as they make weird faces for the camera. There is a picture of Conner by himself and, again disgustingly, he is smiling at the camera as though the most precious person in the world is behind it. Both pictures are held by a sun magnet. There is a new candid shot of Cassandra, one of Alfred-Alfred holding cat Alfred, a new one of Dick and even Damian is in there.

And, his heart stops for a second, because now there are pictures of Jason as well.

They’re carefully placed far from each other, but there are three different pictures. There is one of Jason wearing his Lord of the Rings shirt, eating cereal on the couch, a confused expression on his face. He remembers when Tim took that picture, because Tim waited until Jason had his mouth full before calling hey Jay? and snapping the picture right as Jason looked at him, his cheeks like a chipmunk's. The second picture is a candid of him smiling, leaning against the rail of some safehouse balcony. The shot was carefully framed to not show anything distinct of the surroundings, just Jason and Gotham’s sky.

The third one is a selfie. In it, Jason is asleep, his lips parted and face relaxed, his head resting on Tim’s shoulder. Tim has a shit eating grin on his lips as if there is nothing funnier to him than his giant older brother falling asleep on him in the middle of movie night. Tim had the decency of drawing a mustache on Jason’s face to decrease sappiness, but that effect is ruined by the fact that the picture is held by a magnet that was clearly Iron Man but Tim had painted it red to look like Jason’s hood.

Jason had sworn off killing, at least for a little while.

But he would gladly kill again for his little brother.

As he gets ready to leave, he turns to Conner and deadpans, “I don’t have to tell you that I can and I will make kryptonite bullets, do I?”

“Jason!” Tim scolds.

“What? I’m the first of the family to find out. Least I can do is taje care of the shovel talk.”

“Stop threatening my boyfriend.”

Conner blushes profusely and mouths the word boyfriend with marvel and ugh. Just… ugh . Jason is happy that Tim is happy, but he and Conner are apparently that kind of couple and Jason wants to have none of it.

“So, first we kill Damian,” Jason starts.

“No,” Tim says.

“Aw, come on, you didn’t even consider it!”

Cassandra waits until they decide their plan of action (it’s probably going to be Tim’s) and keeps her expression carefully neutral as not to show which one of them she agrees with (Tim).

The thing, Jason realized, is that all of them have favorites in their family and knowing that makes it easier to tear them down. Dick can fuck off with his I love you all equally bullshit, because he clearly always favors Damian. Damian swings between Batdad’s little boy and Nightwing’s murder baby. Tim will easily lose focus whenever Steph is involved. Steph is oddly protective of Duke, for some reason. Cassandra is mostly neutral. She’s everyone’s favorite, including Bruce’s, but she’s also the deadliest of them all so she is no one’s weakness. She does, however, have a soft spot for Tim over any of her brothers. Since Jason became close friends with Tim, he entered Cassandra’s selective protection bubble and he’s now, by all definitions, untouchable.

Or at least that’s how he felt when she chose him for her team right after Tim.

“We kill Dick first,” Tim knocks down the little Nightwing action figure on the carpet. “Cass, you’re the only one who can take him down. Jay and I distract the others while you do the job. Damian will get personally offended by that and will grow reckless.” He knocks down the little imp figurine. “I can take care of him then. Steph will be hiding somewhere ready to strike. She is best in close range combat. Jay, I need you to take her down before she gets too close.” He pushes down the Barbie doll someone dressed as Batgirl, because apparently they couldn’t find blonde Batgirl merch and they were very offended. “Then we win.”

He may sound impressive, but the whole time he’s speaking he has his head resting on Cass’ lap and she is carding her fingers through his hair as a villain would do to their evil pet cat.

“Can’t I murder the demon brat?” Jason complains.

Tim glares at him - again, not very intimidating while he’s basically lying on his sister’s lap.

“You know Steph would wipe the floor with me. You’re the only one I can trust to get her.”

“Unless…” Jason turns around. “Du-”

“No.”

“Come on, I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“Jason, we’re all rich, you can’t buy me.” Duke doesn’t even raise his eyes from his book. “Plus last time I let y’all drag me into this shit, Steph knocked off one of my teeth with Tim’s staff.”

“If you hadn’t killed me, then she wouldn’t have taken revenge,” Tim argues.

“And yet you’re planning to kill Dick counting on the fact that Damian will try to avenge him.”

“Wet blanket,” Cassandra says.

Tim and Jason go into a giggling fit as Duke sputters, too indignant to put his thoughts into words.

In the end, Duke still doesn’t join them.

As they expected, the enemy was listening to their plan - Jason is sure Dick was against it, but Stephanie and Damian are definitely not above spying - nonetheless they still played their parts as expected: Steph and Damian tried protecting Dick first and foremost, but not even the two of them combined could take Cassandra. Not with Jason and Tim backing her up.

Cassandra knocks Dick down and sits on his back. The large yellow paint splash on his chest proves that he’s dead. Rather than being upset, Dick starts doing push ups with his sister there as the rest of his siblings and Steph fight to death.

Unfortunately, Damian wasn’t as angered by Dick’s demise as they expected and is still a good match for Tim. Until Tim gasps and goes Titus, don’t eat that! It was an obvious ploy, but still got Damian to let down his guard and whip his head around looking for his precious dog. Tim shoots him without hesitation and Damian goes on a rage soliloquy.

Jason would appreciate it if he wasn’t having such a hard time with Stephanie. Apparently Barbara has been feeding her steroids, because the girl is now as quick as a ninja. She hits Jason in the kneecaps with Tim’s staff - they’re not even in the same team this time, how the fuck did she get Tim’s staff??? - and shoots him point blank in the chest. And damn, that shit hurts. He bets it’s purple under his shirt too.

Steph is mid celebration when her victory whoop turns into a pained groan. Twin splotches of red and yellow bloom on her back as Cassandra and Tim lower their guns.

“Fuck,” Jason complains. “Couldn’t’ve done that before she killed me?”

“We win,” Cassandra says.

“Shouldn’t you be fighting to the death now?” Dick asks. Now that Cass is off his back, he’s lying on the side like one of your French girls. Jason wishes Cass would shoot him again.

“I would never betray Cass,” Tim says.

“We rule together.” She walks to him and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead.

Tim grins a wicked grin because he knows he is Cassandra’s favorite and everyone can die mad about it.

Steph and Damian start shouting their complaints at the same time while Dick laughs his ass off. From his lawn chair, Duke is glaring at them as if he can’t believe he’s legally related to any of these weirdos.

His gaze meets Dick’s and his older brother looks absolutely elated with pride even though all of their siblings are yelling about paintball.

Jason simply smiles back.

[animemangasoul]

We Parted Ways A Long Time Ago

Summery: Lucius Fox is Tim's emergency contact number.

In which Bruce and Tim have drifted apart and Bruce doesn't realize it until it's a little too late.

Chapter: 5/4+ (Final)

“Tim isn’t coming back.”

Bruce freezes. One hand around the doorknob and the other clutching at the business card his son had left behind as a parting gift. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. He isn’t coming back B. He doesn’t want to.” The words are said carefully, almost gently, but there is no denying the steel behind them. Bruce grits his teeth. How dare Jason side with Lucius Fox. Tim needed him. Tim needed them. He was just confused and angry and Bruce could fix this. They could fix this. There was a way to make this all go away. There had to be.... because if there wasn’t then--

“You don’t know him like I do Jay--”

A short bark of laughter interrupts him, making Bruce swivel around, a glare burning in his eyes. Jason quirks an eyebrow in return. “I don’t think you know him as well as you think you do B.”

“Jason,” he grits out in warning.

“What? ” His second oldest scoffs. “You don’t believe me? Cuz I aint lying to you. You don’t know him anymore. He’s changed.”

Bruce wants to snap at him, wants to insist he knows nothing, wants tear at his own hair.

But more than anything he wants his son back. He wants Tim to know how much he loves him, how much he’s worth and how much it tore him inside seeing him walk away.  

He wants to shout at Jason too. Wants to scream how much he didn’t understand. That he couldn’t possibly understand because he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there when Tim dragged him back from the brink of insanity. Wasn’t there when Tim laughed with those sparkly eyes that saw the world differently. Wasn’t there when Tim cracked that one snide joke at Barry Allen’s expense that had Hal cackling for hours.  

None of his kids were there when Tim told him he felt safe by his side, despite the blood on his knuckles and the snare on his mouth. They weren’t there when Tim sat next to him as Bruce drove himself mad trying and failing to let go of the ghost of his dead son. Tim had been his anchor, had been his light, his hope, his robin.

His son.

He wanted to scream and rant and get angry, but--

But this was Jason.  

Jason who still cringed at loud noises when they took him off guard. Jason who died. Jason who he’d failed time and time again. Jason who’d finally started opening up and who sometimes laughed like the world wasn’t out to destroy him. His Jason. His boy.  

So instead of letting the floodgate crack open, he closes it shut, slams on the brakes and breathes. Eyes falling shut momentarily as he composes himself.  

“He belongs here Jay. With us. He belongs with us. Not with Lucius Fox and his family.”

Opening his eyes, he meets those of his son, holding them until the younger sighs and looks away first.

“What makes you think he aint perfectly fine where he’s at?”

Was Jason kidding?

“Because he’s a Wayne. He’s one of us. He’s one of mine. He belongs here, with his family.” With each word, his fingers tighten around the card and his chest constrict. Jason should know this, understand this. It was simple. It was right.

Of course Tim wasn’t fine where he was. Why would he? It was just the easier alternative. As long as Bruce told him he was welcome here, told him he had a home with him, Tim would come back. Bruce was sure of it.

“Do you even know why he fucking left!”

Startled at the abrupt shift in tone, Bruce narrows his eyes. “I don’t have time for this Jay. I--”

“No.”

“Jason...” he can’t quiet keep the bite out of his tone. “I can’t do this right now. I need to--”

“Need to what?” his son snaps, taking a step closer, eyes flashing green. Bruce frowns in concern. “The rep—Tim's probably at Foxes right now. What you gonna do? Drag him back by the hair?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what!” Jason was practically growling by now. The tint in his eyes even more prominent. “What you gonna do Bruce? Huh? Tim left! He left and he was fine, why can’t you just....” He trails off, fingers clenching and unclenching and---

He just doesn’t understand. Jay doesn’t get it and Bruce doesn’t have time for this.

“Jay, son--”

But again his second oldest cuts him off, arm slashing through the air to indicate how little he was willing to listen to him. “You can’t keep pretending everything is fine B! Cuz it aint. Fuck, it’s not fine. It hasn’t in God knows how long and...” Lips twisting into a something ugly, Jason runs a hand through his hair, puffing his cheeks before letting out the air in a quiet huff. “You keep acting like it’s some kinda small misunderstanding that ruined everything. And that isn’t true. It isn’t. You know it isn’t. This shit’s been long time comin and you need to accept that.”

It was as if with every word spoken a knife was dug into his soul, twisting, scarring, damaging. With every word out of Jason’s mouth, Bruce felt coldness seep into his veins, felt his heart twist, because.... because..... what if he was right? Did Bruce even know anything anymore?

World’s greatest detective,….

Him?

What a joke.

Yet, the words wouldn’t make sense. They wouldn’t fit together. As if him and Jason were playing too entirely different puzzle games and while they were the same in color, his pieces were infinitely more complex. More difficult to put together.

Jason didn’t understand. Jay was only now getting to know Tim, so he couldn’t understand their history. His relationship with his son.

“He’s my son Jay. I love him.”

It was as simple as that wasn’t it?

If you loved someone, you could eventually figure it out together, right?

Then why.....

Why did Jason’s last words stay with him all throughout the night. Long after he’d gone to bed? Long since he’d abandoned rushing after Tim. Long after Alfred and Jason had convinced him to wait till tomorrow, why did those words haunt him?

“You don’t love him. Not really. With me, with Dick, with all of us, you try and you apologize. But you never try with him. You just watch and tell him he aint good enough and that’s fucked up.” Jason’s eyes were wet. “I love you B. Course I do. And you’re doin right by me for the first time in forever, but that’s the problem aint it? Is your love like a zero-sum game or something old man? You don’t have it in you to care for your batch of fucked up orphans, equally?”

Closing his eyes tight, Bruce tries to sleep.

“Hey B.” Furrowed brows and red rimmed eyes. “How fucking tiny is your heart?”

-------------

Cassandra is halfway out the car when he reaches out and stops her. She pauses, registering the hand on her shoulder. Shifting back into her seat, his daughter gives him the softest of smiles before closing the door. “Yes?”

[How fucking tiny is your heart?]

He gazes out at the parking lot, fingers drumming absentmindedly against the wheel as he tries to collect his thoughts. Cass is nothing but patient. Her own hands folded delicately across her lap, not a single word out of her mouth to remind him she would be late for practice if he didn’t hurry up.

Bruce gut churns in guilt.

Clearing his throat, he looks down at his lap; brows furrowed and lips drawn in a thin line.

“Why did you call Lucas Fox yesterday?”

His daughter doesn’t miss a beat. “Tim want out. I help.”

Grip tightening around the steering wheel, Bruce grits his teeth. “He didn’t want out. He was just a little bit uncomfortable. We were going to fix things.”

“No fixing. Too late.”

Bruce tenses. A sick feeling crawling up his throat. If Cass was saying this-- “Why do you say... that?” Fumbling with the last word, Bruce curses silently, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying anything else he might regret, not that it mattered seeing as this was Cass he was talking to.

“Tim want home.”

“He has one,” Bruce says, words coming out fried at the edges. “With us.”

But his daughter is already shaking her head. “Tim want home,” she reiterates. Body still as a statue and eyes staring at something far in the distance. “He ask me. I say, not here. Your home not here. Your home, Lucius, Tanya and Tam and Luke. They home for you.”

“Why would you say that?” Because this was betrayal. His daughter had betrayed him. Went behind his back and practically ousted Tim from their family. And... he didn’t understand why.... Why would Cass do this? She loved Tim. More than anyone else, so why would she---

“I want Tim happy.” Her voice cracks at that, and for the first time Bruce notes the mild shake of her hands and the quivering of her bottom lip. “I want see Tim happy. Little brother deserve happy.” Reaching out to open the door, she steps out, Bruce too dumbstruck by her words to stop her. “Happy not with us. We need.... to.... understand.” With those last words she’s gone. Leaving behind the ghost of girl unwilling to cry at the face of loss and pain.

How was any of this fair?

How could his children expect him to accept this when they clearly did not want to lose their brother? How was Bruce supposed to just let this go when there still was a chance to mend fences and go back to how things used to be? Tim most have left him his business card for a reason. His son wanted to talk to him. Wanted them to fix things and Bruce wouldn’t let Lucius and his family get in the way of that. Not when the solution to all his problems was right in front of him.

Cassandra wouldn’t have to be sad anymore.

Dick wouldn’t have to look so heartbroken anymore

And Alfred and Jay and even Stephanie and Barbara. They all were walking around with a sizable hole in their lives and if Bruce could only find the son that fit in that hole, then he would have managed to do right be each one of them.  

He just needed to talk to Tim. To apologize. To make amends. He--- He just needed Tim to understand. Bruce might have been busy when he came back, but it was only because the others needed him more. Not because he didn’t care about his third son. He’d believed Tim had been better off, more well-adjusted, more in control, so of course he’d focused his attention on those who were already slipping through his fingers.

That didn’t mean he loved his boy any less.

Tim had to understand that, right? If he explained himself? If he---

It’s only eight in the morning, but Bruce already feels a bone chilling exhaustion fall like a blanked over his body and with a sigh, he pulls out of the parking lot and begins his drive to the company.

The sooner they fixed things, the better.

-------------

He arrives at Wayne Enterprises in daze. Barely taking note of the employees who jump out of his way as he strides by. Some try to talk to him, but one look from Bruce have them scurrying away and eventually Bruce is standing in front of Tim’s office. Stomach doing flip-flops and breath hitching slightly.

This was it.

Now or never.

He couldn’t mess this up. He couldn’t. For everyone, for Tim, for himself. He needed to get this right.

Knocking gently he waits for the soft “come in” before sliding the door open and finally stepping into the vaguely familiar office.  

It’s a bit different than he remembers. Just like Tim’s apartment, tons of homely objects have been left to decorate the previously barren space. Tim’s desk practically drowning in colorful pictures of his friends and the Fox family. And lighter tone had been added to the room, taking away the edge of gray and giving it more of a homely feel.

Swallowing tickly, Bruce tries not to linger on the changes. For they spoke of things he wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge.

“Hey Bruce.”

Stepping forward, Bruce echoes Tim’s smile with a tiny one of his own. “Hello Tim.”

“You said you wanted to talk.”

“I did.” Pulling out one of the chairs, he sits down. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Well then,” pushing the stack of papers aside, Tim folds his fingers under his chin and tilts his head. “Let's talk. I think it’s about time we do this too.”

Clenching his fists, Bruce stares at his son.

Sees the exhaustion in his eyes, sees the downtrodden face, sees how he’s trying his damn hardest not to show any emotion, and it burns. It burns and scorches his soul. Because Bruce and Tim should never have this kind of divide between them. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

The desk between them feels like an ocean. A distance so wide it prevents him from reaching across it to hold onto his kid. It feels as if he’s too late.

He wants to make things right. Tim is sitting right in front of him and he wants to make things right. He can do this. They can do this, so taking a deep breath he lets it all out.

“Why didn’t you come to me when things got bad?”

“What?” There is a twitch to Tim’s brow. His son leaning back slightly as if struck by his words. “What?”

Shaking his head, Bruce tries to keep his voice as gentle as possible. “When you started to feel the distance between us, why didn’t you come to me?”

Because.... how could they ever hope to fix anything if he couldn’t figure out why it happened in the first place. Sure he knew his busy schedule had robbed him of his third son, but what was Tim’s excuse? He’d known him for years. Years before Bruce himself died, and Tim should have known he could reach out. He’d always done it before. Reluctantly yes, but Tim had always reached out to him first when he needed him, so why?

For the first time it feels as if he’d finally gotten to the root of his frustration.

Tim hadn’t given him the chance to fix this. He’d just up and left and that wasn’t right. Because Bruce would have figured it all out with him, if his son had just given him the chance to do so, so why?

“Why didn’t you come to me son?”

“What makes you think I didn’t?” The words are soft, but Tim’s eyes are narrow and his teeth are clenched. “What makes you think I didn’t try?”

“I don’t rememb--”

“Of course you don’t,” Tim says, cutting him off; voice as soft as always but the sharpness behind them undeniable. Rubbing a tired hand across his brows he sighs. “That’s the whole point Bruce. You don’t remember.”

Taken back, Bruce frowns. “What do you mean?”

Shoulders bunched up and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Tim furrows his eyebrows, And Bruce.... Bruce finds himself reaching across the table unconsciously and gently tapping the other under the chin.

An all too familiar action that immediately stops Tim from abusing his lip. It takes his son a second to realize what he’d done, but when he does, he flinches away, a bone aching pain flashing through his eyes.  

Bruce stiffens, watching as his son scoots away from him and....

It was..... It hurts. Chest tightening, Bruce takes a deep breath and leans back, away from Tim.  

His son visibly relaxes at the motion and Bruce has to swallow down the sick sensation crawling up his throat. “What....” he starts again, trying to get them back to the conversation, trying to forget what just happened. “What do you mean? What did you mean by me not remembering?”

Tim shrugs. His face is still a bit too tight and his fingers drumming an unknown beat on the desktop. “I mean exactly that,” he says. “I came to you twice. Once after you had around two and a half weeks to relax and get to connect with the others, and....” there is a tiny wobble to his mouth when he says this. “You were in your office working on something and.... I came to maybe..... I just--” looking away, Tim fidgets with his suit jacket. “I wanted to see if you would like to have lunch together during break. I wanted to catch up with you, see how you were doing, how the others were and--” There is an undeniable hurt in his voice now, and it’s all Bruce can do not to cringe away from it. “It wasn’t anything big or--- I mean, it was just lunch. We were both in the building and I could finally maybe get to talk to you again, but.... You told me that you had plans with Dick and Damian and maybe I could come back another time.”

Bruce remembers that day with a sudden clarity.

[Not now Tim. Dick and Damian need me right now.]

[Please close the door after yourself when you leave.]

Oh

Oh

“There was never another time because you stopped coming to the office after that and saddled me with the rest of your work so you could spend more time with your family.” These words are almost spat out at him and---

He’d done that, hadn’t he. Sure it was the right thing to do at the time, but Tim, his son, his boy.... Tim had deserved better.

Was this why he was so close to Lucius? Was it Bruce who’d forced them together when he left? Was this all his fault?  

“The next time I came to you, I was sick.”

Bruce blood runs cold.  

No, God no. Please... please don’t say he had turned away his son when he was sick. Not Tim. Not Tim who lacked a spleen. Tim who got so easily sick. Tim who never asked for him, so for him to ask and for Bruce to---

“I contracted a virus while working a case and it didn’t get better.... it was bad B.” There is a sad smile curling around Tim’s lips and his kid shrugs, meeting his eyes. “I was gonna go to the future with Bart so his mom could try and fix me, and I called you to tell you.... so if you maybe--- If you could come with me? For support? But you didn’t even listen.”

[I can’t right now Tim. Damian got in trouble in school and I need to go pick him up. Another time, ok?]

And.... God, he feels sick.

Tim might have died and he hadn’t even listened to what he’d tried to say. No wonder the kid never--- Why did everything go so wrong?

“Lucius came with me instead. Lucius and Tanya.” Tim’s smile is bit more genuine this time. “They freaked out so much, you have no idea.” He looks very amused now. A true smile blossoming across his lips as he remembers his time in the future. “Tanya wouldn’t let go off me cuz she didn’t trust anyone there and Lucius couldn’t believe his eyes.... if I hadn’t been sick it would have been hilarious, cuz they were freaking out like crazy and they wouldn’t listen to Bart and their eyes.....”Tim shrugs, smile turning into a tired grin. “It was... nice. Having them there I mean. They came to the future because they wanted to make sure I was ok. They..... they’d never been to the future before, but still--- It was nice.”

Tim’s eyes are wet by now. He isn’t crying, his cheeks aren’t red and his nose isn’t running, but his eyes are wet and....  

They’d been there. Lucius and Tanya Fox.

Bruce hadn’t.  

His son might have died in the future. Might have never come back and.... he hadn’t been there.

“I’m.... I didn’t know Tim. I... I didn’t know it was that serious. If I had I swear---”

“I know,” Tim says, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “I know.”

But he doesn’t know. It’s clear as day that he doesn’t know. He’s just saying that to a peace him, and.... Bruce can’t let it end there. He can’t. Not like this.

“We can fix this.” He suddenly blurts out; not even thinking before he speaks. “We can fix this Tim. Let’s us fix this.”

Tim is already shaking his head before he’s even finished talking. “We,” he says waving a finger between them. “Can’t fix anything Bruce, because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That wasn't what I meant.”

“I know exactly what you meant. You literally just asked me why I didn’t come to you Bruce. It sounds like you blame me for this too.”

“I don’t blame you!”  

Slamming both hands on the table, Tim suddenly shoots up without warning. “Of course you do! You always do! I’m always at fault for every fucking thing!”

“That’s not true.”  

“Yes it is,” Tim snaps, eyes blazing and lips drawn back to show teeth. He’d never seen Tim this angry before. “You always pick out my flaws. Always. Never Jason or Damian or Dick. Just me. Never mind that you demon child--”

“Tim!”

“See,” Tim hisses, eyes wide and chest heaving. “You’re doing it right now! You always stand up for him. Always. But you never do the same for me. When he threatens me you never.... you and Dick you--” Blinking furiously, Tim sways slightly. “You always pick your kids over me.”

And.... it was as if he’d been hit by a sledgehammer.  

How could Tim think---

“You’re my kid too.”

Tim scoffs. It sounds broken. “Not really.”

“Tim--”

“If I was,” his son interrupts him, sitting back down with a sigh. “If I was your son, you wouldn't single me out every damn time. You wouldn’t let Damian talk like that to me. You wouldn’t let Jason and Damian try and kill me without facing consequences.... like I did.... with Boomerang. You---” A deep breath. “You wouldn’t let them hurt me, but you do, you always do, so I’m not your son. I’m not.”

Not his son?

Gritting his teeth, Bruce tries to breathe through the turmoil coiling in his stomach. Tim didn’t know what he was talking about. He was just angry right now. He was just--

But, did being angry take away the truth to his words?  

Did it make what he’d just said invalid?

Damian and Jason had tried to kill Tim on numerous occasions, and he’d never said anything to them.  

But when Tim spoke up.... how many times had he felt compelled to stop him? How many times? Tim.... he held his third oldest to a standard none of the others-- standards that went above and beyond what he held the others to. He held Tim to his own standards and anything below that was a disappointment.

That.....

That was wrong. Tim was just a kid. A kid with too much on his shoulders and he,…..

[How fucking tiny is your heart B?]

Damian hated Tim. Hated his brother and what had Bruce done to change that? Giving it time? Hoping they would somehow magically fix things between them and then what? Was Tim supposed to just sit there and deal with it till Damian found it in himself to stop?

What kind of parent did that make him?

It was as if every uneasy feeling he’d been hiding away suddenly bubbled up to the forefront of his mind. Every uncertainty, every fear, every worry. Everything he’d been shoving away in hopes of mending fences and going back to how things used to be.  

The wave that hit him almost rocked him out of his chair. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t---

Tim had suffered. Under his watch. His son had suffered in silence. Alone, in pain, uncertain, scared.... and Bruce had let it happen.

For a second it’s as if he can see it all. His son wandering the darkness of his own apartment. Patching up his own injuries with tiny whimpers because he can’t make himself go to the cave. Because he doesn’t feel like he’d be welcomed there.  

Tim who is working so hard in his lonely office, taking on too many projects until he eventually passes out. Tim who doesn’t smile as much anymore. Tim who stiffens when Dick hugs him. Tim who doesn’t belong with them anymore.

Tim who doesn’t want to belong with him anymore.

It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to feel as if his very world isn’t falling apart all around him. It’s hard.... but he’s Bruce Wayne, and this wasn’t.... this wasn’t the time... so taking a mouthful of air, he shakingly looks up to meet Tim’s wide-eyed gaze. His son is halfway out of his chair, arm hoovering in the air, hesitant to touch him. And.... doesn’t that picture speak louder than any words.

“Hey, B? You ok?”

He nods. A jerk of his head that takes all the effort he has left to make happen. “Yes.”

“Ok, yeah. Ok. That’s good.” Tim sits back down, still an uncertain worry in his eyes, and Bruce can’t take it anymore.

“What can I do,” he says, cringing at the underlying pleading in his tone. “What can I do to fix this? Because we need you Tim. I need you.”

A shadow passes over Tim’s features and his kid stiffens. “There is nothing to be done,” he mutters. “I think it’s too late for that.”

No, no no no no.

“Son--”

Tim waves a hand, cutting him off. “I took on a job B. I took on a job too big for me and I pushed and pushed for more, but that’s all it was. A job. I filled a spot in your life you needed filled. I was the kid who saved Batman, and I was fine with that. I was ok with that. Helping you, I think it helped me in turn. But I’m done. I think we’re both done B.”

No, no no!

“I still need you.” He’s leaning forward again, not even caring about the unabashed pleading breaking through his voice loud and clear for all to hear. “You’re my son, my family. I can’t lose you. I need you Tim.”

“Well,” his son says, a croaked smile pulling at his mouth “I don’t need you, not anymore.”  

It’s like a knife in his heart, those words.

And all he can do is stare, watch as the dullness in his son’s eyes turn into a glimmer of determination. Watches as Tim steels himself for one last battle. “It was not my job to do right by you B. It wasn’t my job to save you. I shouldn’t have done any of that, because.... I was just a kid. It wasn’t my job to save you from yourself. It wasn’t my job. I should have never made it my job. You shouldn't have needed a kid to bring you back from the dark, but it happened. And we’re here now. So I just want to say this.” A pause as Tim folds his fingers atop of his desk and takes a deep breath. “I want so say to you, that you hurt me. You hurt me really badly B, and I don’t want to be hurt anymore.”

Bruce felt too many things to count then. Too many emotions, too many things. But most of all, he felt helpless.  

What else could he do, but to understand that he did this. He’d hurt Tim. His precious son who used to laugh like the summer itself. His son who’d told him Batman needed a Robin. His son who’d knelt down next to him; amidst the bloodbath and taken his hand. Not afraid of his darkness, not afraid of who he’d become. “It’s ok B,” he’d said, gloveless hand touching his face. “It’s ok B. You’re not alone anymore. I’m right here. Right here.”

Tim had been his anchor.

His life saver, his hope. Hope that he could be Gotham’s Batman again and Wayne Enterprise Bruce Wayne.

Timothy had saved his legacy and his life and---

“I’m sorry.” The words come out as nothing more than a whisper, but Tim still startles back, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I’m sorry,” Bruce continues, feeling the itch in his eyes intensify. “I was wrong. I wronged you. You... I hurt you--”

God, it was painful to speak. Painful to voice these things. Things he’d known but refused to acknowledge, and for what? So that he could keep living on in a blissful ignorance while Tim suffered?

What kind of monster did that make him?

“I should have done better by you. I failed you, and I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry Tim.”

“Yeah?” Fat drops of water spill past Tim’s cheeks.

“Yeah,” Bruce chokes out, blinking furiously to keep it all in. To not infringe on Tim’s sadness, to not ruin it for him. “Yeah.”

“Oh......Thank you B.”

He nods, biting his bottom lip hard to make it all stop. But then.... a gentle tap on his chin makes him startle and look up to meet Tim’s gaze. His son tapping at his own lip to indicate why he’d done what he did, and.... Bruce snorts, it sounds wet and hoarse. Tim grins back and Bruce finds himself smiling through the painful burn in his chest.

How familiar. How nostalgic.

“I love them you know.”

Bruce smile turns into a grimace, before he quickly pulls it back up. “The Foxes?”

Tim shakes his head, before he pauses. “Well yeah, but that’s not what I meant.” Wiping at his cheeks, he huffs. “I meant the others. Dick and Jason and...... All of them. “A pause. “I think I’ll always love them. More than I can ever love you if I’m being honest.”

That stung. It really did.

“And I’m sure,” his son continues, whispers floating past his smiling lips, eyes incredibly sad. “That they love me in turn. In their own way.” He shrugs.

“Then why--” Bruce starts, but again, Tim is there to stop him from finishing his sentence.

“I’ve learned,” he speaks up over him. “That without respect, love can never be enough. Not really. And I deserve respect Bruce. I do. Not because I’ve earned it, but because of who I am. That’s what family means. You don’t earn anything. You have it because they love you.” Folding his hands under his chin again, Tim tilts his head. And for the first time it strikes Bruce. How much his Tim has grown.

How truly different he’s become.

How he’s learned to express himself so well. Unafraid, eloquent, proud.  

He was so different.

And not his anymore. Not his.  

“Is this goodbye?” Tim nods, eyes shining wet and sad.  

“Yeah, B. I think it is.”

“But--”

“If you don’t want me to head the company anymore, after this, I understand.”

“That’s not--”

“Of course I wouldn't advice it. Since Damian’s still pretty young and I was already planning to hand it over to him when he’s older. But if you don’t trust me to--”

“Of course I trust you.”

Tim freezes.

Sighing, Bruce tries to collect himself. This was... it was too much. But he couldn’t let it all fall apart just yet. Not yet.  

“I trust you,” he reiterates. “I wouldn't take away your job just because.... You’re still my family Tim. Even if you don’t consider me as such anymore.”

His son flinches, but he doesn’t deny it. Maybe that hurts him more than anything else that had been said today. Maybe.

“My last name...” Bruce doesn’t know why he’s bringing it up. “I... you...”

Tim looks just as conflicted. “I would like to keep it,” Tim says in a rush. “Until Damian can take his position I mean. I don’t want to create a media frenzy so--”

“Yeah,” Bruce nods; feeling numb. “Yeah, ok. That makes sense.”

He was losing his son.

“Hey Bruce?”

He feels numb. Tired, just... tired. “Yes?”

Fidgeting in place, Tim leans forward trying to meet his eyes. Bruce can’t find it in him to avoid his gaze no matter how much it hurts. So he does, even though his very soul is screaming at him to just get out. To leave and never look back. “Can I give you an advice? About Damian?”

Scrunching up his nose, Bruce frowns. Why were they talking about Damian now? This wasn't about his youngest. This was about Tim and what Tim didn’t understa--- No. No, this wasn’t about that either. This was about Bruce and what he didn’t understand.

So, taking a deep breath and centering himself the best he could, he nods. “Go ahead. What do you need to say.”

Eyes lightening up, Tim smiles at him; it’s less worried, less uncertain and.... yeah, Bruce would sit here and listen to Tim ramble about anything and everything if it meant he could see him smile like that forever.

“Damian can’t be better all on his own B.” There is a light frustration to Tim’s voice that catches Bruce’s attention. “You need to teach him. He can’t learn it on his own. That’s not how growing up works, trust me.”

“I know you don’t like him--”

Scoffing, Tim shrugs. “That’s an understatement.”

“But,” Bruce continues, deciding to ignore the attitude. “He’s changed a lot. He is better. It’s just that he sometimes slides back whenever you visit.” Giving Tim an apologetic smile, he shrugs as well. “He’s working on it.”

Tim’s sighs, disappointment evident in his eyes as if he’d expected something of Bruce and he’d somehow ended up letting him down, again. “That’s the thing Bruce. You keep saying he’s getting better. And He is working on it. But.... why is he doing it alone? You and Dick somehow expect Damian to figure it all out and miraculously become a better human being while neither of you ever correct him on what exactly that entails. That’s not possible B. You need to do something before it’s too late.”

Too late.

Those two words had taken so much from him.

Too late.

Too late.

“Children need guidance B,” Tim cuts off his train of thought. “They need consequences. You need to give him that or Damian will grow up believing it’s ok to hurt people to get somewhere in life, and that’s not ok.”

For a second the world shifts and Bruce isn’t looking at Tim anymore. Instead its father sitting across the desk from him. Eyes as serious as ever and lips drawn into a grimace.  

He tells him hitting other boys to get what he wants isn’t ok. That consequences are the defining line of life and he; Bruce needs to be careful with the steps he takes. “You can’t hurt people and expect to get away with it Bruce. It’s not ok.”

Who would have thought Tim would grow up to remind him of his father?

It almost..... it almost brings him to tears. Seeing his dad in the son he’d left behind.

When had Tim grown up to be who he is today?

“I will do my best.” The words hitch in his throat, but they are clear enough and Tim, Tim smiles again and.... yeah, he would do his best. Perhaps it was time he put his best foot forward. For the sake of his family, for the sake of his kids. His best might not be good enough anymore. So perhaps it was time to do better than his best.

“That’s all I ask for B.”

The conversation seems to be coming to an end and Bruce knows it. Knows this might be the very last time he and Tim can sit across from each other and talk like this.  

The very last time.

“How did we get to this?”

A shrug and then a hopeless smile. “I don’t know B. Maybe it was always meant to go like this.”

It’s not right. It shouldn’t be right.

“So,” he says, feeling as if everything he’d ever known was suddenly crumbling down around him, piece by piece. “This is it? We part ways and never.... And never---” He can’t find it in himself to finish the sentence.  

Tim smiles, it’s a sad smile. A resigned one. Accepting, hallow. “We parted ways a long time ago B. You just never realized it before now.”

[How fucking tiny is your heart B?]

How tiny indeed that he hadn’t even noticed his son drifting away until there was nothing left connecting them to each other but his own grand delusions.  

Somehow in the midst of his turmoil, Lucius Fox arrives. Slamming the door open, a frazzled Tam Fox at his heels.  

It all feels so far away.

Bruce turns around to look at them both. Watches as Lucius Fox scolds Tim for going to work when he’d told him explicitly that he’d take care of the paperwork and it hits Bruce once more.

How right Tim was.

Bruce hadn’t even taken note of Tim being in his office when he’d been sick just two days ago. But Lucius had. Rushed to the office the minute he found out probably. What did that say about him?

Blinking slowly he watches as Lucius pulls Tim out of his chair, pressing a hand across his forehead than tsking in disapproval before collecting his things; not for one second sparing him a glance.

And it’s all too much.  

It’s all so..... final.

When Lucius hands Tim over to his daughter; Tam leading Tim out of the office, a scolding tone to her voice, Bruce has already turned away. Not wanting to witness the physical manifestation of his son walking out of his life.

“Bye Bruce.”

He stiffens.

Eyes squarely resting on his lap for a second. It’s..... it’s all over, isn’t it?

“Goodbye Tim.”

“He doesn’t look back, doesn’t raise his head afraid the reflection from the windows will show him what he’s trying so desperate to avoid seeing. He doesn’t look up until the door finally swings shut and he’s alone in the office. Well, not alone per say.

“I never took you for a coward Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce scoffs. It’s a bitter and an angry sound. His fists clench around his knees and he meets the steady gaze of one Lucius Fox.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Lucius.”

The other man lifts a brow, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I always wondered when you’d realize. And then time passed and you never did, so I figured you didn’t care.” The last words aren’t said any harsher than any of the others, but they hold a steel under them that’s unmistakable.  

Bruce is on his feet before his mind even has time to contemplate the action. “I care about all of my kids, Lucius.”

This time it’s Lucius who scoffs. “Not equally, but sure.”

Bruce wants to be angry. Wants to just lose it on Lucius Fox. Wants to blame him for everything that had gone wrong ever since this man had made himself at home in Tim’s life. But.... he can’t.

Because reluctant as he is to admit it, Lucius had saved Tim while he’d failed him. Protected him, gave him a place in his family and had shown him nothing but love ever since. He hated Lucius Fox, not because the man stole Tim from him.

No, he hated Lucius Fox because the man managed to be the father to Tim that he never could. Lucius Fox was the winner in a game no one but Bruce had been playing. And he hated him for it.

“Tim,” he says finally, eyes far away and throat burning at the words he is unwilling to say. “You will keep him safe?”

Lucius gives him a hard stare. Face grim and eyes dark with something Bruce can’t quite decipher. And then the man nods. “I don’t plan to let him down anytime soon.”

Nodding, Bruce is careful not to waver where he stands. He can’t afford to show weakness, but at the same time, this was his friend. His friend who chose to do right by his son because he himself wasn’t competent enough to get the job done. “Ok then. Ok.”

A final stare from Lucius as if the man expects him to say something else, but when he doesn’t, Lucius moves past him and its only when he is at the door; Bruce back turned to him, that he speaks. “I respect you as a hero Bruce, I always have. But it has been a long time since I last respected you as a father.” And with those last parting words he’s out the door and gone.  

Leaving Bruce standing by the chair. Eyes dull and chest hallow.

It was the end wasn’t it?

The final line.

Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne had made his chose and he hadn’t chosen them.  

Suddenly it becomes all too hard to stand so he sits back down, hand coming up to his face, shaking, uncontrollable. It’s not easy realizing you were the bad guy all along.

When tears slide down his cheeks, Bruce only covers his eyes and lets himself cry. Silent, alone.... alone. His shoulders shake and his throat tightens, and Bruce Wayne cries.

For Tim who’d been so bright and hopeful until he’d met him. For Dick who he’d saddled his legacy on without care. For Jason who he’d never allowed himself to mourn. For Damian who he’d failed before he’d even started. And for Cass whose many chances he didn’t deserve. He cries for his kids that he still had and for the kid he’d just lost. He cries. And it doesn’t make anything better. Doesn’t make Tim come back or makes Jason to forgive him. Doesn’t make the haunted look in Dick’s eyes fade away or makes Damian someone he isn’t. It doesn’t erase those red rimmed eyes of Cass. But it makes him accept it all.  

Accept that he’d messed up.  

He did that.

No one had made him do it. No one had forced his hand.  

He had failed Tim and there was no taking it back now. No getting around it. No winning it or resetting to try again. Because it wasn’t a game and Bruce wasn’t coming out on top. This wasn’t a comic book. Batman wouldn’t win this time, because there was nothing to win.

So he lets the hot tears carve a path down his cheeks and he sits there, alone, hand pressed across his eyes and he cries.

He cries.

Hours later Alfred rests a hand on his shoulder and sighs. “Perhaps we may learn from this Master Bruce.” His voice cracks. Bruce doesn’t comment.

Perhaps.  

The End

@miss-choco-chips

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

@river9noble

Finally it’s all over. It has been a ride folks. I might write some one-shots connected to this universe when I find the time, but no promises. That’s all. Thank you for sticking with this story for as long as you did! I appreciate it! Bye!

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 9

“Asshole cop.” Jason grumbled as they walked back towards the truck, and Steph giggled wildly, her lipstick only just cleaned up from the wipes she kept in her bag, eyes dancing as they made their way through the crowded Saturday night boardwalk, said asshole cop glaring behind them. Sure, they maybe got a little too into making out on the bench, but Jason had been so thrilled by her reference, and Steph was just…absolutely in love with Jason. So. Y’know. One thing led to another and Jason’s hand had crept up her skirt while she’d straddled his lap…

And then Officer O’Grady had blown his whistle. Right in their ears.

“I agree…sorry he got your bad side…” Jason shot her a grateful smile, and she kissed his cheek softly, all sympathy. The explosion when he was fifteen had ruptured his eardrum, and high-pitched sounds bothered the hell out of him on his left side still, which was why his helmet had specialized protective ear guards, and he wore sound-reducing plugs with his domino. It…was perhaps one of the few things that Bruce and Jason had bonded over; Bruce used similar ones for his own cowl, and had adapted Jason’s with regard to the minor hearing loss.

“Eh…At least it didn’t make my tinnitus start up. All he had to do was cough or somethin’…” Steph agreed, and rubbed his back soothingly, smiling as Jason squeezed her shoulder and kissed her temple. As much as she’d liked the idea of the Ferris Wheel…O’Grady was following, she could sense his eyes on her ass, and evidently, so could Jason; he raised his free arm to flip the cop off and hugged her a little closer, arm sliding down to wrap around her waist. Not to grope her, not that Steph would have minded…but she smiled, snuggling in close anyway. It was possessive without making her the possession.

Makes Dean look like the pervert he was. Creep. And Jason and I are what…three years apart? She made a few mental calculations and nodded to herself, satisfied; they were right at three years and two months apart, and while she and Tim were the same age…she had more in common with Jay. More shared life experience, too…

“Babe? You okay there? You look like you’re a million miles away…” Jason murmured, pausing at the entrance to the carpark, and Steph shook herself, smiling up at him.

“Yeah…sorry, was just…thinking about things.”

“…Good things? Bad things?”

“A little bad, then a little good. I promise, I’m okay…just…maybe more tired than I realized.” She winced at that, but Jason just chuckled, warm and sweet.

“I don’t doubt it, we were both up early. As fun as the bench was…how about we head back and get some rest, hmm?”

“Yes please…Um…do…you mind if I ask you to take me home?” His eyes softened at that, dark green with the night, and he kissed her softly, guiding her back over the gravel with care.

“Not at all, sweetheart; besides, I don’t put out on the first date.” Steph burst into giggles at that, and Jason snickered, helping her back up into the truck. He hopped over the hood, every inch the reckless Bat-boy, which made Steph break into more giggles. Joining her in the cab, he swooped in for a kiss that Steph gladly gave, and carefully got them out of the parking space, bitching a little about idiot tourists and shitty drivers as he made his way to the road again. “Goddamn fuckin’ cop could be over here clearing this mess out…”

“At least Penguin’s men have it well-lit again; the city didn’t do shit about that.” Steph growled out, suddenly feeling far more charitable to Cobblepot and his crew. Whatever else Oswald might have once been, fatherhood seemed to have mellowed him immensely, and his mostly-legit wealth was going into things like lighting the Mile, same with Bruce; hell, Bruce had even sent baby gifts, both has Wayne and Batman, since Cobblepot had largely dropped out of the Rogues’ with the birth of his daughter.

“Yeah, I think B thanked him for it the other day, Barb was shocked on the comms because they actually had a polite conversation; he asked about Robin, B asked about Tracey and little Eugenie.”

“Awwwww…I’ll get a purple penguin for her when I go out on patrol tomorrow.” Jason chuckled at that, and Steph relaxed into his shoulder, fine with taking the back roads home to her apartment. Here too, the little improvements had made things better for everyone, not just the wealthy Gothamites; lights brightened the once gloomy alleys, and people, feeling safer, had begun cleaning them up. Dumpsters had been moved to the backs of the buildings, and play areas built, full of beat up toys. Old sawhorses and a few semi-straight boards sporting carefully repaired flowerpots full of cheap herbs and little flowers leaned against the brownstones, painted bright with cheap acrylic and leftover housepaint.

Graffiti artists, once the bane of the neighborhoods, had been given purpose and permission to express themselves via the Wayne Urban Art grants, and now murals of every color covered the once ugly cement walls. Meanwhile the old abandoned lots, once ignored by the city, had been bought up by Wayne Industries and given to the neighborhoods as small leisure areas, with young saplings and soft grass and little free gardens, tended carefully by gardeners hired by Bruce himself.

Crime still ran rampant, of course; hell, that’s why they still had patrols.

But more and more, that crime was white-collar or supervillain; the average Joe was happy to have a good job again, and a place to call home that wasn’t covered in trash and grime. Petty criminals with a family to feed or a dangerous addiction had more avenues for help now, with flyers on every corner, and kind counselors available night and day. And the only requirement was only “if you know someone else who needs us, please bring them here.” Steph approved of that, as did Jason, and Bruce had only smiled and said “I thought of you two when we set that up.” Highest compliment he’s ever given us, I think…it…it really has made a difference. Just in my life alone…

Crystal Brown had been among the first he’d welcomed to the program, and Steph had broken down crying on Bruce’s shoulder the day her mom had come home clean. Really clean now; whatever else might have happened between them, Steph was just glad to have her mom back…and Jason had had much the same reaction, so Alfred had told her, when Roy’d gone through it too. Roy was Jay’s best friend in the whole world…she smiled a little. I’d almost be jealous, but…Cass is my best friend. And if Cass swung that way, I’d have dated her in a heartbeat, I think…I’m not mad that he and Roy were a pair. I’m just glad they’re still friends.

“Gotta say, B’s really made home feel a lot less gentrified, and more…”

“Alive.” She murmured, and Jason nodded, his voice a little tight as he pulled into her apartment’s lot.

“…I was worried, when he started this, that it’d be the Bowery all over again.” He murmured, and she squeezed his arm, taking a deep breath.

“Me too, if we’re being honest here. But…it’s not. It’s not. It’s…what we would have wanted. Hell, he even retrofitted the Starlight with green tech so that the Narrows’ best babysitter didn’t have to close down.” He laughed, soft and sweet, and kissed her forehead.

“Tell me about it, I begged him to bankroll it when I was a kid because…well, it’s the last original roller rink on the East Coast. I couldn’t bear to see it torn down. I think he started doing it after I died…kinda sweet, to be honest.”

“That’s what I would have done…Ooh. We should go skating next time.” Steph mused, and Jason’s answer was in a hot, sweet kiss, his eyes dancing in the streetlights.

“It’s a date. C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door?” He suggested, offering his hand, and Steph let him pull her out, heart as light as a feather. He was easy to lean into, not handsy in the slightest, big hands rubbing up and down her back, and already, Steph was boneless against his chest, drowsing as they rode the elevator back up. Their hands clasped, Steph swung them a little as they pulled apart, yawning widely as the elevator stopped and she could lead him back down to her apartment door, pulling out her key.

“Mmn…thank you. I love you…and I hope this is still okay?” She murmured, hopeful and more than a little nervous. Jason kissed her again, then once more, and bussed her nose with his own, the smile on his lips as clear a confirmation as the words…but she liked hearing him anyway.

“I love you too, babe, and this is so okay. Get some rest, alrighty? Tim took our patrol tonight, B sent me an apology text earlier, so we’re good till tomorrow.”

“Good. Bastard should know better than to get between me and waffles.” The roguish grin on Jason’s face made her grin back, and he stroked her hair back over her ear again, something she never let Dean or Tim do, because it felt…weird with them. It felt right with Jay.

“Goddamn right, Blondie. Sleep tight, babe, can I bring you waffles in the morning, or are you waffled out?”

“Jay, if you bring me waffles in the morning, I’ll put out, alright? Waffles are life.” She retorted, and he fell back with a snicker, shaking his head as he kissed her.

“Well hell, if it’s really that easy, babe…” She swatted his arm, still grinning, and he kissed her once more, leaning into her doorway in a gesture that should have felt intimidating…but like before, well…it was Jay. It felt right. Steph kissed him back, sighing softly, and he pulled back to kiss her in the center of her forehead. “Head to bed, babe, I’m not far off. If you need anything, call me, okay?”

“Mmn, sounds good…are you really gonna bring me waffles?” She replied, hopeful, and he grinned again, his smile as addictive as his kisses.

“Goddamn right I will, babe. What time works?”

“Probably eight, at least? I need to get up early, do housework, do homework…” She made a face, and he made a face with her.

“Ugh. Well, I can help with the former, and as for the latter, I can be a quiet boyfriend and clean my guns?”

“Deal…See you then?” Steph wanted to crash, she really did, she was yawning so much now…but she didn’t want him to go…

“See you then. Goodnight, Stephie.” He murmured, kissing her once more, then closed the door for her. She leaned against it, listening to him slip down the stairs, and smiled, stepping out of her sandals with a groan of relief (they were cute, but she was tired enough for them to start hurting finally), and made quick work of taking off the rest of her make up, hanging up her dress, changing into comfy undies and a huge tee shirt. Taking down her hair, she glanced over at her phone…and grinned to see his number light up on the screen. She swiped to answer, and leaned back against the pillows.

“Miss me already, handsome?” He chuckled, warm and low, and it didn’t matter that she’d been hearing it all night; she could hear it a million times, and never get tired of it.

“You know it, baby. Figured you’d probably have trouble getting to sleep, as tired as you were, so…I thought maybe I could read to you?” He sounded so hopeful over the line, and Steph’s breath hitched in her chest. Oh…

“…I’d really, really like that. What did you have in mind?” She could see his grin as she closed her eyes, and heard the soft sound of pages turning, the faintest creak of an old book opening.

“Well, I always loved Pride and Prejudice…”

[bumblesimagines]

Headcanon:

Damian having his first crush on a guy

Request: Yes or No

In this Dami is like 15-16, you and Tim are 18-19, and Jay is in his early twenties

Damian had no idea what to do with the things he was feeling

He just looked at you and his stomach and chest start acting up

He asked Alfred about it

Alfred gave an amused sigh.

"You have a crush on Mr. (L/N)."

"What?" Damian knew what a crush was but..

Him?

Liking someone else?

Romantically?

Romance wasn't even in his dictionary!

He didn't know what to do

You were Tim's friend

You spent most of your time with him

And that made.. Damian's chest act up again

"Alfred, why does my chest hury and mood drop whenever I see Drake around (L/N)?"

"Because you like him, Master Damian, and you're jealous of Master Tim because he's hanging around Mr. (L/N)." Alfred explained.

He scoffed

Him?

Jealous?

Of Drake?

Nonsense!

Damian resorted to staring at you

He had read that it showed that he was interested

To you, it seemed like he was glaring

You were a bit put off by it so you asked Tim

"Does your brother hate me?"

"Which one?"

"Damian." You looked at him, catching the can of soda that he threw at you. Tim chuckled.

"Damian hates everyone, (N/N)." Tim reminded you. You sighed and shrugged, opening the can. You squeaked before it sprayed all over you.

"Ugh, Tim!" You huffed, looking at your shirt. Tim turned on the hose and sprayed you with it.

"Tim!" You yelled and blocked your face. You huffed, making a gust of wind slow the water in his direction.

Damian stepped outside and regretted it

There you were, white shirt soaked in water revealing years of working out. Your hair was dripping with water and clinging to your face as the rays from the damn star hit you perfectly. To top it all off, you gave Tim the bird.

Damian felt his face heat up and fought the blush off his face before clearing his throat.

"Drake." He nodded to his brother, shooting him a tiny glare. You used your powers to have the wind dry you off.

"What's up, Damain?" You asked, approaching Tim and picking up the hose. Fear flashed in Tim's eyes as he scrambled to get up only to have you hose him right back down.

Damian watched in amusement.

"Alfred finished lunch, he wanted me to come you two." He said, crossing his arms as he watched you have mercy on Tim.

"Great, thanks for telling us." You shot him a smile, helping Tim onto his feet. You headed inside with the two brothers, sitting down at the table.

"Hey, you little shit." Jason greeted Damian, ruffling up his hair and dodging a punch. Damian looked at you, seeing you shift your gaze away from Jason. He looked at Jason, seeing some hurt flash in his eyes.

He came up with three answers

A- Todd liked you but you didn't return his feelings

B- You two were secretly dating

C- You two had hooked up and now you were avoiding him

Damian hoped it was A but it was probably C

He had caught onto the looks Jason had sent you over the past few days

Sure, his feelings were a bit hurt but at least now he could focus on other things but you

After lunch, you had disappeared and conveniently, so had Jason

Tim asked Damian to help him look for you, so he did

And found you pinned to the wall by Jason

Making out with him

He decided to quietly go off and tell Tim so he could watch the drama unfold

Tags; @ravenmoore14