#he’ll always be a little TOO attached to the batman

[batgeance]

really very interested in exploring the dichotomy of bruce wayne and the batman and how bruce himself at this moment sees the two as entirely separate persons despite knowing damn well that the goals of both should align even though the paths of either are completely different

[roachspeaks]

this is my first time requesting for a writing prompt so i apologize if i have a hard time describing it, but may i request nsfw (and maybe sfw) head canons of jason todd with a s/o thats a very violent vigilante but is very overly attached to jason

Omg yes, I’ve been wanting to find something Jason Todd to write for a while 😂

Jason Todd x Vigilante!reader sfw and nsfw head cannons

Warnings: smut, mentions of past trauma(bc it’s Jason Todd), reader is a vigilante with a violent streak, swearing, gn!reader, I took it in a very yandere-ish direction

(More detailed warnings before the nsfw part)

Sfw

Jason is shocked to come back to life and find there’s already another blood thirsty vigilante running the streets of Gotham, he just has to meet you.

And when he does he’s a little less surprised to find that you remind him exactly of himself. Vengeful and trying to keep justice in a more ‘efficient’ way than Batman ever could.

You notice him more around you in underground bars like the iceberg lounge, always trailing just a little behind you.

You think you’ve got a stalker, and you’re partially right.

His interest in you quickly turns into a crush one night when you grab him by his collar and demand to know why he’s been following you.

So he tells you, he’s always been an honest guy, never caring enough to bother lying or covering up what he really felt. Usually, that is.

As soon as you agree to be something with him, he’s almost a different person. Though it takes a while to break through that confident, cocky exterior he likes to front.

Soon enough though, you get to see the Jason that cares for his brothers, the Jason that’s a book nerd, the Jason that is deathly afraid of being a failure to the people he loves the most.

You soon discover he’s not all he pretends to be, and sometimes all he wants in the whole world is a few moments of peace with the person he cares for most in this world(you).

Often times(if you work a day job or do vigilante stuff in the day) you’ll find you always arrive later then you had before meeting him. He has a tendency to hold on to you and not let go in the morning.

Jason tries to hold out on you meeting his family for as long as he possibly can, especially Dick. He sees Dick as the highest standard, what he failed to be as robin. He (irrationally) fears like you’d leave him for his elder brother.

When you finally meet the rest of the bat family, they’re all just happy he’s found someone who loves him, and who he’ll actually let in.

You don’t know it, but as soon as you spend a night in his bed(or let him spend the night in yours) he’s already thinking about marrying you.

Maybe not in an official, traditional wedding way, but he’d put a ring on your finger just so he got to show everyone just how serious he is about you.

The intimacy of sleeping next to someone, the trust that they won’t stab you in your sleep(especially given your bloody history) is something Jason doesn’t take lightly.

If you like reading, he’ll recommend you books of all kinds. He’s had a lot of time to think and reflect on himself, most of which he had a book in his hands.

Speaking of hands, his are extremely rough and calloused. Years of scarring etched beautifully into his skin. He isn’t insecure exactly, he knows it shows he’s a survivor. How strong he is. But when his rough hands are on your skin he can’t help but feel like he’s too broken for you.

He isn’t easily consolable. He’s good at pretending your assurances worked as you’d planned, then overthinking the issue the rest of the day. But you quickly learn his tells, and call him out for it. To which he’s surprised at first, but just a little more in love with you.

He isn’t good at saying the words ‘I love you’. Not at first. He’s scared that once he lets those three words slip from his lips that you’ll be taken away from him.

When he does finally get used to saying it, it will be rare that he doesn’t say it during a conversation with you.

When he’s leaving for a patrol, you receive a kiss on the cheek, or even a deep and telling kiss on the lips, and a quick “I love you, see you tonight.” Before he’s out the door.

Or just before you fall asleep, you’ll get a passionate string of beautifully picked out words that Jason would never admit while fully awake.

When he’s been on missions that take him to other cities, he can’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Without your steady breathing soothing him to sleep. It gets to the point that there was a time when his phone ran out of battery, and he awoke immediately in a cold sweat. Forgetting he wasn’t next to you. He came home the next day. Unable to stand the thought of not being able to see you, to hold you.

Now in terms of you being overly attached to him, he wouldn’t say he ‘minds’ exactly.

He doesn’t want you to get hurt if something ever happens to him. He reminds you all the time that he can quite literally die almost every night. To which you shrug off. Making him laugh every time.

If you’re clinging onto him physically, he doesn’t mind at all. He loves your warmth and the pressure of your body against his. Especially if your on top of him. The weight of you on his chest gives him so much comfort it’s surreal.

Nsfw

Warnings: smut(obvi), mentions of rough sex, gn!reader and gn!body terms, heavy degradation, praise though too(separate),

He leans into being more dominant in bed. He likes the control and the ability to help you feel good.

He can be extremely rough if he’s had a stressful day. Railing into you with your legs hooked tightly over his shoulders. His hands on your waist. Squeezing the soft flesh while he chases both of your releases.

His words degrading and harsh. “Hey? Who owns this body huh? Spit it out slut.”

Sometimes he’ll edge you for hours while he gets himself off, painting your chest and face in his hot sticky cum.

But on the other side of the spectrum he can be very gentle if it’s appropriate. If it’s an intimate moment he has no trouble peppering kisses all over your beautiful body. Praising you until you can barely think.

“So good, so fucking beautiful for me yeah?”

He’s all for breathy whispers, whispering in your ear what he wants you to do. How he’s gonna make you cry his name from the pleasure.

He loves giving you head. But particularly taking it excruciatingly slow. Paying attention to every detail. Every expression or sound you make when he touches certain spots with his tongue.

Also being a Vigilante, you have scars yourself. Physical and emotional. He kisses all of them. Tells you how strong and gorgeous every one makes you look. How absolutely perfect he thinks you are.

Sometimes things slip out while you’re going at it. Words he never intended for anyone to hear. But he just gets so caught up in the moment, he can’t help himself.

“Want me to put a ring on your finger yeah? Want me to make you my pretty (wife/husband)”

I think for awhile after he came back he used sex as a way to cope, experimenting with his body and trying things he’d never thought to try before. It worked well enough for a little while, allowed him to take out his energy in a much needed outlet.

He was tortured and kidnapped when he was still a teenager, sometimes he needs to express that anger and resentment in a healthy scenario. Sex is a free, safe, and easy way to do so.

He insists on practicing safe words with you, sometimes even he needs to opt out for a water break or something like that.

After the fact, he’s extremely sweet on you. Cleaning you up however you need. Whether it’s with a wet cloth, a warm bath, or with his tongue.

He likes to hold you in the afterglow of sex, chests heaving, skin glazed over in sweat. He pulls you close against his chest, a hand on your thigh, holding you as close as he can get you. Whispering sweet praises.

“You did so well my love, so good for me.”

Hope you enjoyed this, I’m working on more requests at the moment 😘

[dairy-farmer]

That recent ask about the exaggerated vilification of Tim’s parents got me thinking about a fucked up scumbag Bruce who is an extremely unreliable narrator.

All these terrible things Tim’s parents are doing are believed by Bruce, and in his isolation, he constructs more and more awful things that they must be subjecting Timothy too. This is all to justify his fierce lust for the boy— after all, if he takes Tim and cares for him and makes him his own (aka read kidnaps and grooms Tim under latent threat of harm to Tim and others), it’s only him being right. Being a hero. Saving those in need.

He is completely and terrifyingly delusional. Everything he does is justified in his mind, because Jack and Janet Drake are the scourges of this world, the worst devils Gotham has to offer, a mark of immutable evil. And Tim, Tim is his precious angel, a martyr suffering at his hands.

And the worst part is, Tim probably could use an intervention of some sort! I mean, Jack and Janet aren’t the cartoonishly sadistic fantasy Bruce has created, but they are neglectful, and Tim is a deeply lonely, touch-starved, and isolated boy.

Which makes it all the easier for Bruce to track down the exact flight in which Jack and Janet are on— a small craft, carrying only them and the pilot, set for some remote Indonesian island where they hope to find new artifacts from the time of the Tonga empire.

It’s all too easy to make it go down.

From Tim’s view, everything happens too fast for even him to keep up. He hasn’t even processed the beginnings of grief before he’s being ushered into the home of his new foster father— Bruce Wayne.

He’s so generous, the reports fawn. A true father, always willing to help an orphaned child.

The hallway to Wayne manor is different from the Drakes. It’s vast, and ornately carved, and *old*,a far cry from the sleek, minimalist design of his parents home.

His *old* parents, Bruce, *Batman*, assured him with an odd amount of relish. He had a new father now, he tells Tim, wide hands firm on Tim’s slim shoulders.

He’s nearly shaking from excitement. Tim is finally *here*, where he belongs— he’s so soft, and warm, and—

Well, not *entirely* where he belongs. Bruce knows he’ll have to go gently, before Tim feels safe in his bed and arms. But he’ll get there.

After all, he’s Batman, and Bruce Wayne— a *hero*, with the whole world in his hands. A hero, who would never do anything wrong.

Tim won’t have anybody to tell. And he’ll have nowhere to run.

Not that he would ever need to, of course. Bruce has been planning for years. He knows he can make his beloved happy. He’s done all sorts of research. He’s spent months agonizing over the cameras and the rooms. And the little padded bunker attached to the cave, just in case Tim is a bit flighty or Bruce moves a tad too fast.

Soon after their deaths, reports will be leaked that show the absolute depravity of the Drakes, in both their business and personal lives. Fraud, trafficking, and child cruelty— some of the reports are real. Some are exaggerated.

Some are completely false. Not that anybody would know it. Bruce is very good at what he does.

It’s even better if Jason is alive and totally on board with the plan— a co-conspirator to Bruce’s madness. After all, he’s always wanted a little brother. And he loves to be a strong protector, a hero.

And he loves Tim drake. I think maybe he even jumpstarted Bruce’s expression, sighing lovingly at the dinner table as he discusses the shy underclassman he is absolutely *enamoured* with.

!!!!!!!!!!!!! bruce being just a little bit sicker in the mind, a bit more focused, and listening to jason babble about the sweet boy with big eyes and the skittishness of a bunny with a little bit more interest than usual.

bruce exaggerates everything he sees about the drakes, viewing them as despicable humans who have hurt and continue to hurt this child. who are corrupt in business, in morals, and just in general. him "seeing" that and using it to justify pushing them out of the picture, taking over as tim's parent. bruce covertly destroying the little trinkets tim's parents bought for him, getting rid of pictures and posessions, trying to get rid of everything about "that" time in tim's life.

bruce becoming the horrible monster and the thing of nightmares he was so convinced he was saving tim from. and jason is all too eager to help because bruce promised that they could share tim, be his protectors. his father and big brother- two people that will look out for and care for tim. it's been years since jason first came home gushing about tim drake and all the pieces are finally falling into place.

all that's left is getting tim to fall in line alongside their plans.

only he sobs and weeps for his parents when the grief kicks in, he's resistant to calling bruce 'daddy' and avoids jason because jason had always frightened him in school with how intense he was and how he stalked tim relentlessly, even following him into the bathroom once.

tim being frightened by this 'new family' and wishing his parents were still alive. then seeing all these news reports and people talking bad about his parents, talking about how they were monsters and how 'good riddance' they were dead. tim being the only one to know that it's not true! it's not true! his parents were good people they cared about tim, their employees, they gave back to the locals of the communities they'd go to for digs!

but bruce is just so determined to make this boy his son and has constructed all these things in his mind to justify his actions.

now tim is trapped and more of a prisoner than he's ever been with this man and boy who want him to say that they're the only family he's ever had and that he's happy his parents are did.

poor tim losing his parents and being psychologically tortured by his new "family".

[snaileer]

Escapement - 1 (Jason Todd/Marvel)

Jason knows it’s naive, but it was all too easy. He wants revenge against Bruce, against the Joker…. But the Joker doesn’t even exist here. He’s as far from that monster as he’ll ever be able to be.

And there’s no one here that knows him. He has a chance to get away from Talia and the League.

He knows Talia is keeping him away because Ra’s will kill him if given the opportunity.

But here?

Here, he’s free from Batman, from the League, from anyone who wants to try and control him.

A bullet ricochets off the building next to him.

Well.. free as soon as he gets these German octo-idiots off his tail.

They’re morons. But by god, they’re well-connected morons. Somehow they’ve managed to chase him across three borders, from bum-fuck-nowheresville, Russia to mediocre-as-fuck City, Turkey.

You’d think they’d be less attached to him after spending barely a week with him before he burned down their base and killed all their men.

And right after he killed his first German asshole too.

Egon and HYDRA are two different types of scumbags. But they’re still scumbags.

Jason hops another fence, scrambling to the top of the dumpster and then up the first level of the fire escape.

He pauses as he hears shouts around the corner. Well, it’s as a good a time as any.

They corral themselves into the alley way, fully dressed in their tactical gear, blaring red Nazi-armbands and all.

The first guy is the biggest, Jason takes him down fast, the second… he gets a little sloppy but honestly, he doesn’t care when the spare asshole impales himself on Jason’s knife. Gonna be a bitch to clean though.

The third guy takes a bit more of a tussle and right when Jason gets in his face to start asking questions, the jerk smiles.

“Hydra will get what it wants from you child. Cut off one head, and three shall take its place.” There’s a suspicious crack before the man’s mouth fills with foam as his eyes roll back.

Jason drops the body in disgust. A waste of information. He glances at the first guy, it’ll be a pain to lug to an abandoned floor but… probably worth it to find out why they’re chasing him.

Jason walks over and yanks open the guy’s mouth. Now where….? Ah ha!

It takes a bit of prying with his blade but moments later, Jason holds a bloody cyanide capsule in his fingers.

It crushes uselessly beneath his feet.

After getting leverage under the guy, Jason is able to haul the limp man up the two flights of stairs to his current empty safe-house.

Okay, yes, safe-house is a bit of a stretch. As it is neither safe anymore, nor been a livable house in a long time.

It’s because of this that Jason doesn’t even bother putting a tarp down before tying the man to a chair.

“Wakey wakey, assface.” Jason says.

There’s no response except a mild groan.

Then screaming as Jason plunges his still-dirty knife into the man’s collarbone.

He smirks. Time to ask Nazi Number 1 some questions.

———

When Coulson gets the assignment to Northern Turkey for the bodies of two dead Hydra agents, he’s almost expecting it to be boring.

Of course, the moment he lands he finds out they’ve found the third body. Any hope for boring goes out the window as he looks at the multilated corpse of what used to be a Hydra agent.

This was torture. Expert torture. Combined with the skill of the two dead in the alley below and the chase his ground agents have been able to track.. they’re dealing with a professional here. And not a new one.

But somehow, they have nothing on the assassin. That makes him dangerous.

Coulson steps into the hallway of the abandoned building to make a call.

One ring.. two… three..-

“Hello?”

“Hawkeye.”

The tone changes over the phone, “Coulson? What’s wrong?”

“Care for a search and remove mission in Akyaka, Turkey? We have an unknown assassin that’s popped up with three dead Hydra already under their belt. Could use a good pair of eyes.”

Coulson could hear the smile on the other end of the line, “You know I’m always up for some sightseeing.”

“I’ll send for transport.”

The call ends and Phil glances back through the open doorway at the body. Whoever did this… they were looking for something. He thinks they must have found it.

Clint shows up on a private red-eye the next afternoon; and with barely a greeting, the two launch into the search.

Between the two of them and the bevy of SHIELD agents at their beck and call, it should be a straightforward mission.

It’s not.

The killer is always a town or a city ahead of them. There’s no aliases to track or face to ID, with the red sweatshirt he wears constantly, hood up, head down. They barely have a height or body type estimate by the time two weeks roll past.

Seven more Hydra agents show up dead in that time, and it’s becoming the most dependable way to track him.

When they realize the man is making towards the airport in Erzurum, Clint calls in Natasha.

It takes them another week still to find where the man will be staying for a few days before moving on.

When they find it though, Coulson has the place locked down within the hour, entirely discreet.

He and Natasha are acting as the front, hopefully this will go diplomatically. If not.. that’s where Clint comes in.

The man walks through the darkness of the apartment, heavily dropping groceries on the counter.

Just as they’re about to wonder if perhaps they were wrong about this person or their skills, the man pulls two guns directly at them.

“Who the hell are you and what the hell do want from me?”

“Mr. Smith. I’m glad to see you are the person we’ve been looking for. However, it would be best if would lower your weapon and cooperate with your arrest.”

“Phil, wait-“

“I’m not cooperating with shit, baldy.” The man cocked his guns, completely ignoring Natasha.

She quickly flicked on a light switch, illuminating the shadows of the man’s face.

But that was the problem. It wasn’t a man, it was a kid.

“How old are you?”

The kid hesitated, already a bad sign, then he snarled, “What does it matter, lady?”

“It matters because this changes things. Coulson,” She looked at him, “He’s just like us. We can’t just let him be.”

Coulson’s face was serious and understanding, “Listen, kid, we can help you. Now that we know-“

“Now that you know? Know what? You know nothing,”

“We can help you, please just come with us, SHIELD can-“

There’s a spark of recognition, “You’re Shield.” He raised his guns back up from where they’d gone slack, “Which makes you Black Widow. Greatest living product of the Red Room.”

A flash of surprise passed through her eyes, “How do you-“

“I read a lot about you. And let me tell you this. Both of you. I just got free from one shadow organization, I’m not about to join another. I’ve been both soldier and weapon, now I’m neither. I plan to stay that way. Even if it means killing you and every black ops agent in this building.” The kid growled, finger pulling on the trigger.

An arrow pierces through his forearm, forcing him to roll backwards into his kitchen. Natasha leapt towards him, halting when he raised a gun back at her face.

He wavered between pointing it at Coulson or Natasha, breathing heavily through the pain.

“Tell your buddies thanks but I’m good. Freedom suits me just fine.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he leapt for the window over the sink, crashing through the glass and into the air outside.

Natasha didn’t even have time to stop him before the kid was gone. No sign of him on the street below save for a blood trail that tapered off quickly.

——

Hours later, Natasha’s eyes flicker open from sleep in the darkness of their safe house.

Why was she awake?

A small creak sounded from outside the room.

An intruder.

Slowly, Natasha wrapped her hands around her gun and slunk out the door, tapping Clint on her way.

There was a groan and slight clatter in the kitchen.

She motioned for Clint to go around.

As she came to the kitchen, she flipped on a light, immediately aiming her gun at the figure.

It was- the kid?

“Hey,” he groaned, leaning on the counter, blood on his face and clothes, “you said SHIELD could protect me?”

Natasha nodded, not lowering her gun.

He pulled his hand away to show the blood oozing from a large wound on his stomach and looked up at her pleadingly, “That offer still available?”

[anothertimdrakestan]

Stealing Clothes From The Batboys/YJ Boys HC!

i wrote this on my phone due to immediate inspiration from a lovely anon!

"can i get a headcanon with the batboys and more if you can of how they react when their girlfriend steals theirs clothes? i love you're writing so so so much!"

Dick Grayson:

- you always steal his sweatpants even if they're like 4 sizes too big

- they're always a little worn and soft and smell like him

- you'll have to pull them up every 60 seconds but that's why you love them

- slipping them on when you wake up and starting to make breakfast, dick will come out of your bedroom and his heart will melt on sight

- he'll come up behind you and pull the waistband back effectively pulling you into his chest

- he'll toy with the drawstrings and waistband, feathery fingers dancing around your waist while you move around the kitchen

- he's the boyfriend that lovessss when you steal his clothes, eventually you'll run him out of sweatpants and he'll just go buy more, no questions asked. it warms his heart seeing you engulfed in his clothes

Wally West:

- Wally is a jacket king, he's constantly in different colors and sizes and types of jackets but he is very attached to them and often won't let you steal them

- but there's a secret to the jacket lifestyle, the t-shirt he wears under said jackets

- the t-shirts are slightly worn and unbelievably soft and they smell so strongly of your lovely boyfriend theyre your all time favorite steal

- often they might have a little hole or stain so you'll wear them around casually or sleep in them

- he makes fun of you when you both go to bed because you walk straight to his closet to pick out a shirt

- it makes his heart melt seeing you wear his t-shirts while he's away on missions, and having his warm and comforting smell on you 24/7 makes you miss him a little bit less

- he will steal the t-shirts back and wear them around to make sure his cologne is still there, for certain favorite t-shirts there will be all out wars for who gets to wear them, usually they end in tickle fights and him giving in calling you a thief even though he loves it

Jason Todd:

- jason's hoodies hit different i swear

- they're ginormous, soft, and beautiful

- the sleeves are way to long and when he sees you standing in one of his hoodies waiting for him after patrol he can't help but laugh

- "babe i know you love my hoodies but i'm scared it's going to eat you"

- he likes to pull the huge hood over your head laughing while you flail the hoodie sleeves

- when you're cuddling he likes to toy with the drawstrings and make little bows like the giant softie he is

- he will spend a whole day looking for the hoodie to complete his outfit then see you in it, he can never be mad when he sees the giddy look you get from how huge his clothes are on you, he's convinced you're the cutest thing in the entire world and no one can prove him wrong

Gar Logan:

- you're dork boyfriend unashamedly has hundreds of graphic t-shirts with terrible science puns or sarcastic logos and he'll beg you to wear them

- like any normal girlfriend you try to steal his hoodies or even will try on his beast boy suit as a joke but this boy will beg you to twin in punny t-shirts with him

- you're trending on social media like 24/7 from candid pictures of you and gar wearing t-shirts that say "i'm stupid in love with ->" or "i love her more than joker loves the batman" and other terrible graphics

- you like to style his band concert t-shirts into edgier outfits and it'll always blow him away

- "damn babe i need to go to more concerts if you're gonna look like that!"

- gar's love languages are affection and giving so you always let him shower you in his clothes and cuddles

- it always puts a dorky love-struck smile on his face when you steal his t-shirts and make epic outfits out of them and you'd do anything for your lover boy, who doesn't want to rep their boy???

Tim Drake:

- Tim has an eccentric style, and the two of you will often share clothes like jackets, maybe even pants, or hats (zendaya and tom holland vibes)

- he's always asking you for style advice and color combos that will look good, he's the first to tell anyone how amazing you always look and how talented your eye is for clothes - he tells everyone how you constantly take his breath away

- while you're day time style is amazing, it's in your own home that you give Tim a real show

- the best way to take his breath away is to slip on one of his button down dress shirts after a night of passion

- seeing you dressed in only his shirt, many of the buttons undone will physically knock the air out of his lungs

- feigning innocence you'll toy with the buttons and casually flirt until he's ripping the shirt off telling you he'll buy a new one

- occasionally you'll style outfits with his dress shirts, tucking them in pairing it with your favorite blazers, it feels like you've got a little piece of Tim rooting for you all day, the perfect pick me up during a rough day

Bart Allen:

- Bart is convinced you are the cutest thing to walk the planet and will actually vibrate through the floor with excitement when you steal his clothes

- your (and his) personal favorite is one of his many baseball tees

- this kid has at least 20 different colored shirts and you're pretty sure he wasn't even a baseball player, while he looks undeniably handsome you like to steal the shirts because of how soft they are

- he loves how the shoulders are too big and a little droopy, the sleeves are a little too long making you roll them up to your fore arm to get anything done, and he can feel his heart flutter noticing how you're always bunching up the material or trying to tuck it into your waistband

- seeing you in his shirts makes him all warm and fuzzy, he physically cannot keep his hands off of you if he tried

- when you cuddle he'll cling to the soft fabric with one hand, the other securing you to his chest, whispering something about how perfect you are before he devulges into light snores, keeping you secure and warm, his cologne intoxicatingly warm and comforting, automatically lulling you to sleep with him in minutes

Damian Wayne:

- Dami doesn't love you stealing his clothes, he likes it when you slip on his t-shirt or sweater after a long day and he'll usually expect it back

- but the best thing to steal from your cute boyfriend are his adorable turtleneck sweaters

- these knitted black sweaters are the softest material known to man but stealing them is so difficult because Damian doesn't like parting with them

- the face he gives you when you meet up in public while wearing one of his turtlenecks is too cute, a mixture of pride that you're engulfed in his property and also some mild amusement that you successfully snatched one of his turtlenecks out from under his nose

- "mhm beloved i like your shirt, tell me where did you get it?" his snark is always unmatched

- one of his favorite things to do when you're wearing his turtlenecks is pull the material up and over your mouth, effectively quieting you with your own shirt

- the playful glint in his eyes while he toys with the collar makes you smile like a child, loving how his inner goofy side comes out when he's with you

Jaime Reyes:

- there is no better clothing item to steal from Jaime than the iconic gray drawstring zip up hoodie

- this boy really goes through at least three a month if not more so he doesn't mind you snatching a few for your own closet

- he likes to grab on either side of the unzipped jacket and tug you into his embrace, his lips meeting yours while he toys with the fabric

- you take his jackets everywhere, he loves that you're rarely caught without one - he thinks it's adorable that you don't like to be without him

- his scarab genuinely thinks you're safer wearing his jacket and will throw a bit of a fit if "mate is unsafe! protections protocols active!" so you've taken to tying them around your waist, slinging them over your shoulder, and have even tried to crop or bedazzle a few to make a bomb outfit if thats you're style!

- the jackets are always worn and well loved, sometimes they'll have tears or burn marks from his scarab getting upset but you never mind the imperfections, they're what makes each jacket special

hope you enjoyed let me know who your fav was!

[scribe-of-maat]

My personal rankings for the DC Festival of Heroes stories

11. The Monkey Prince Hates Superheroes (Marcus/The Monkey Prince)

I originally thought we were going to get Eugene doing something but we get an entirely new character. Honestly, I just don’t have a connection to this dude. Maybe he’ll grow on me for now but at the moment, this makes me feel nothing. Maybe if the Monkey Prince and Pigsy designs were more personally appealing I’d like it more, but I’m sure people familiar with the mythos were hyped.

10. What’s in the Box? (Cassandra Cain/Batgirl, And I genuinely do not remember who the white kid is. Hurt or Pain or something)

Cassandra serves up Bao to the white kid, which is cool. But this story feels a little too minimalist to me. Damian calling Cass a monster after killing people and bragging about his compassion earlier in the anthology was rich, though. That hilarity saved this from last place for me.

9. Special Delivery (Damian Wayne/Robin, Bruce Wayne/Batman)

I don’t like Damian so I was already uninvested in this. But then he just hops around and fights the League of Assassins. Again. And talks about how much better he is than everyone else he knows. This kid has literally one story. This feels so off-theme, but of course they can’t have a bat character acknowledge their non-whiteness explicitly in any real way.

8. Sounds (Cassandra Cain/Batgirl, Barbara Gordon/Oracle)

Cass can’t speak all that well. Again. She’s Batgirl for this, which is always cool, but I think if the dude she saved was a named character and more was done other than retread her history I’d have enjoyed it more. As it is now it feels like random bits and pieces were picked from her mythos and displayed rathen than a focus on her racial identity. 

7. Masks (Lian “Shoes” Harper/Cheshire Cat, Selina Kyle/Catwoman)

This would originally have been MUCH lower had I written this about 40 minutes ago, but it’s not like Lian’s been doing anything in the comics until now. If it takes being attached to the cat to get some play, then so be it. I’m mainly looking forward to what being Catwoman’s protege can do for Lian’s personal storyline.

6. Kawaii Kalamity! (Emiko Queen/Red Arrow)

A story I enjoyed because it addressed, albeit rather more indirectly than the higher-ranked stories, the fetishization that East Asian women go through. Her allowing herself to actually enjoy things she enjoys in the end regardless was a cute touch.

5. Perceptible (Ryan Choi/Atom)

I liked Ryan’s look in his Atom getup. Standing next to Bruce at the end, his skin tone was... kinda sus to me, but I’m sure the artist knew what they were doing. I also enjoyed that it addressed that there are a ton more working-class Asians in America that don’t get nearly enough talk. It feels like to be an Asian character you can’t be a regular person, you’ve gotta be super smart or in super talented to get in the door.

4. Family Dinner (Grace Choi, Anissa Pierce/Thunder, Jefferson Pierce/Black Lightning, Jennifer Pierce/Lightning)

Grace basically showed up here to be tossed back into comics limbo but it was nice to see her healthy relationship with Anissa. I also enjoyed Jefferson giving her the third degree as an overprotective dad. This one by far felt the most comic book-y with Mammoth and Shimmer literally attacking out of nowhere (no racial commentary here which makes it more standard comic fare than Festival of Heroes) but hey, this is a comic. ALSO also I love that Jennifer looks exactly like China Anne McClain. 

3. Dress Code (Tai Pham/Green Lantern)

Not going to lie, Tai Pham just showing up in the main DC universe out of nowhere is what puts this so high for me. I liked his graphic novel and I want to see way more of him, specifically with Keli and Sojourner. I will say I enjoyed learning what an ao dai and ao gam were. They look so slick.

2. Festival of Heroes (Tatsu Yamashiro/Katana, Victor Stone/Cyborg, Jaime Reyes/Blue Beetle)

What elevated this to me was it explicitly addressing racism. We don’t get nearly enough of this in comics. When we do, yeah, it’s ONLY characters of color talking about it and it’s basically relegated to Very Special Episodes which are two pitfalls apparent here, but I still loved it. Random Nubia love also gives it that *chef’s kiss* je ne se quoi as well. My only critique is that the racism feels cartoonish - I know people like that exist, but comic book fandom’s MANY racist readers are not going to see themselves being commented on in it.

1. Hawke & Kong (Connor Hawke/Hawke, Kenan Kong/New Superman)

Taking the #1 spot is Connor and Kenan. I loved their interaction, it gave me those sweet MLMOC vibes that I live and die for. Outside of stuff like this we’d never ever get to see characters who absolutely would be best buds ever interact. More of this, DC, please. And I saw someone put Connor’s name forward to be the Green Arrow of China. I would LOVE to see that happen.

[is-it-art-tho]

Excerpt: When Jason turned back, he found two steady streams of tears running down Damian’s face, dripping from his chin. He had never seen the kid cry before.

As Jason slipped in through the window, a shadow moving through the night, a chill swept in behind him, and the form in the bed groaned and shifted in response.

He cringed, closing the window and navigating his way to a chair. And he'd all but sat down when a low voice from just behind him said, “Taken.”

Jason choked back a full-throated scream, wrangling it into a string of curses as he staggered backwards and squinted into the low light.

Bruce leaned forward in the chair so that his face was illuminated beside the window, his eyes as tired as ever, hair mussed and flattened on one side in a way that made Jason suspect he’d been sleeping he might’ve just been sleeping.

“Didn’t know you were here,” the younger man, hating how he felt himself shrinking, making himself smaller in Bruce’s presence. He made a conscious effort to lift his chin, square his shoulders. “I’ll just go.”

“Wait. Don’t.” Bruce rose, so stiff Jason could practically hear his joints creaking. “I’ve been here for”—he checked his watch—“I don’t even know how long.”

“Better things to do?”

Though Bruce’s face was once again in shadow, Jason could still feel his resignation and frustration rippling in the silence and heightened by sheer exhaustion.

“If you can’t or won’t stay,” Bruce said flatly, “it’s fine. I can figure something else out.”

“I’m sure you could. But don’t even worry about it.” Jason marched to the chair, forcing Bruce to sidestep out of his way as he practically threw himself into the seat. “Unlike you, I tend to find a way to squeeze family into my schedule.”

In the darkness, only the whites of Bruce’s eyes were visible, peering down at Jason and looking strikingly like the lenses of the cowl. To anyone else, this might have felt eerie, almost menacing.

To Jason, it felt like a Tuesday.

“Go. Run along to wherever it is you go at times like these," Jason said, wagging his fingers in a shoo motion. "We’ll be here when you decide to start caring again.”

Bruce left without another word, closing the door behind him just a tad softer than necessary. It was an overcorrection, a conscious effort not to slam it. And that’s how Jason knew he had gotten to him.

He always got to him.

Several minutes after Jason had begun scrolling through his phone, halfway between sleep and consciousness, the trill of a heart monitor caught his attention.

He looked up. Damian was still asleep, but the machine he was attached to was going crazy, spiking as if he were in a dead sprint. Jason rose to get a closer look and found Damian drenched in sweat and panting, his face contorted in terror.

“Hey,” Jason whispered, placing a hand on his narrow chest and shaking him. “Hey, whoa. Damian. Damian, calm down.”

The kid gasped, his eyes flying open and darting around the room as if still seeing the ghost of whatever nightmare he had been trapped in.

Jason waited for his gaze to finally find him before asking, “They gone?”

Damian looked around the room again, a quick check of all the shadows and dark corners, before offering a quick nod.

“Good.”

Damian sucked in a shaky breath as he adjusted himself on the pillows so that he was sitting mostly upright, and Jason couldn’t help but notice how small he looked with his massive t-shirt hanging like drapes from his shoulders. It must have been one of Bruce’s.

“If you need more sedatives—" Jason began, reaching for the pill bottle, but Damian stopped him with a curt,

“Don’t.” His voice was somewhat frail despite how hard Jason knew he was likely working to sound indifferent. ”Where is Father?”

“Had some stuff to take care of,” Jason answered, finding a closer chair to pull up to the side of the bed.

“Hm.” Damian wasn’t looking at him, instead restlessly adjusting the sheets on the bed. The heart monitor’s incessant trilling was the ultimate betrayal of his forced calm—a canary in the coal mine.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” the older boy added a little lamely.

“Only if he’s as idiotic as all the others.” At Jason’s confused frown, Damian continued, “I’m not some child who needs to be looked after at all hours. And it’s an insult for them to act as if I am. Not to mention a waste of time and resources.”

Jason leaned back in the plush seat, already exhausted by the direction of the conversation. “Time and resources?”

“If they’re babysitting me here that means they’re not out there doing something useful. The world doesn’t stop needing Batman and all the others simply because I’m temporarily incapacitated.”

“Right,” Jason sighed. “But here’s the thing: I get the whole ‘I don’t need help from anyone’ thing. I practically invented it. But I’ve also been on the receiving end of fear toxin, and that stuff is no joke. Especially if you have to deal with it solo. There’s no shame in needing a little backup.”

“Perhaps it is difficult for you, but I’m fine. I’ve trained for this.”

“You’ve trained to be trapped alone with your worst nightmares? What the hell kind of training—”

Damian leveled an outright bone-chilling stare on him, and the following silence was as much an explanation as it was a warning.

Jason cleared his throat. “Well, then let me put it this way: just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you have to. Gotham won’t fall just because a couple bats take a few days off to look after one of their own.”

“You—” And whatever Damian was about to say—and Jason was sure it was going to be insulting—shriveled in a quick gasp as the boy’s eyes flicked just over Jason’s shoulder. The heart monitor picked back up again, and Jason watched as Damian struggled to control his breathing, trembling hands clutching at the sheets.

“Where?” Jason asked quietly.

“By the door…”

The older boy turned to scan the dark walls, the corner, the dresser. He saw nothing.

“Make it go away,” Damian begged. “Please…”

When Jason turned back, he found two steady streams of tears running down Damian’s face, dripping from his chin. He had never seen the kid cry before.

“Damian,” he began, but the younger boy was screaming now, railing against whatever specter was lurking in shadows.

“You’re lying!” he wailed, starting to get up. Jason leapt out of his chair and pinned Damian’s small shoulders to the bed as the kid continued to scream at something—or someone—over Jason’s shoulder. “You’re lying! You’re lying! I’ll kill you!”

“It’s not real!” Jason shouted back, knowing that this wouldn’t work. It never did. “There’s nothing there! Just look at me! Look at me!”

But even as Jason forced himself directly into Damian’s eye-line, he could see that the kid was looking through him, seeing and unseeing at the same time. The boy was inconsolable now, weeping and screaming at the top of his lungs in a language Jason didn’t even recognize.

He continued to thrash against the older boy’s grip, much stronger than the average kid his age but still no match for Jason’s mass, until slowly he started to come back down. Whether the episode was passing, or he had simply exhausted himself, Jason couldn’t be sure, but after a few minutes the heart monitor started to settle back into a less agitated rhythm, and Damian managed to find and focus on Jason’s eyes again.

“They gone?” Jason asked, his hands still gripping Damian’s shoulders.

“Please,” he whispered, his eyes never straying from the older boy’s, “don’t make me look.”

“I won’t. You don’t have to look anywhere but this handsome mug, alright? I’m right here. All night if you want.”

Damian nodded, and Jason could see how hard he was trying not to look anywhere else in the room. He could see how petrified this kid was and how tired he was and God since when was this little brat so young?

“Move over,” Jason ordered softly, and to his surprise Damian obeyed and watched without protest as the older boy shed his boots and jacket and climbed into the massive bed with him.

Jason lifted his arm and pulled Damian into his side, gently guiding his face so that it was buried in his shirt to physically block out the rest of the world. He felt Damian shove his face even deeper into Jason’s ribs, and a moment later he felt Damian’s shoulders quivering again, little hiccupping breaths against his side.

“I can still see it,” he whispered.

“I know.” Jason squeezed him harder, glaring around the room and wishing for something to beat the crap out of. He would suck up a couple lungfuls of fear toxin himself right now if it meant he’d be able to stand between Damian and whatever it was that was tormenting him. “But I’ve got you.”

“Thank you, Father,” Damian mumbled, sounding already mostly asleep.

Jason tensed, but forced himself to breathe through it. And when the door finally cracked open nearly an hour later, spilling light into the room, they were in much the same position, Jason having been too scared to move a muscle even after his shoulder had begun to cramp up.

Bruce poked his head in and hesitated.

“It’s alright,” Jason assured him. “You won’t wake him up.”

The older man entered, a silhouette gliding noiselessly across the floor. “I’m sorry for being away for so long. There were some…complications. But we’ve got a promising lead on a new anti-toxin formula. It should help.”

Jason nodded. “I figured Scarecrow must have cooked up something new. I’ve never seen it linger like this before.”

“Hn.” He leaned across Jason to glide his fingers along Damian’s brow and gently cup his cheek. Jason wondered if Bruce could see the dried tear tracks there. “How was he?”

“About how you’d expect. He’s strong, though. Maybe too strong for his own good.”

Bruce chuckled, a quick exhale through his nose, before pulling away. “I can take over from here if you want to go.”

Jason looked at Damian still curled into his side then back at Bruce. Suddenly, he was grateful not to be the one hooked up to the heart monitor. “Actually, think I might hang around for a little while longer. If you’re okay with that.”

Bruce blinked. “Of course. Absolutely.” And taking the seat Jason had moved near the bed, he added, “I always have time for you, by the way. All of you. There’s never anything more important.”

“I know.” And though there were many memories Jason could use to poke holes in this notion, for now at least, he decided not to. Because deep down, he knew how desperately they both wanted it to be true.

And maybe tonight that could be enough.

[plasticnightmaredoll]

This is an idea/scenario I’ve had for a good while now pertaining to Arkham Knight Riddler. I don’t know if it’s any good -- it may be too “fluffy” to be in character -- but I wanted to write it down and get it out there, see what people think. Ironically, the idea came from a similar one involving Telltale Riddler, and I may post that one someday, too, but this AK Riddler one is...very different. Different in regards to a lot of headcanons, imagines, drabbles, etc. about him.

So, the scenario is like this: Someone wants to fuck with this poor guy -- not Batman, not one of the Bat family, not even one of the Gotham Rogues. It could be some random new villain, someone who is maybe more sadistic than any of the Rogues (save for Joker). I thought about this antagonist kidnapping AK Eddie’s s/o and holding them hostage …

But with a twist.

Catwoman has nothing to do with this because she’s not evil, but I thought about the explosive collar Riddler put on her in Arkham Knight, and what if this antagonist -- to really mess with Eddie -- decides to put such a collar on his s/o? And Riddler has to show up and complete some tasks (dangerous puzzles and riddle-based traps most likely), or else, his s/o loses their head.

Of course, Eddie shows up because he’s panicking. This was never supposed to happen! Nothing was supposed to happen to his s/o. This is beyond anything Batman had ever done. This is so sinister, so vile, so abhorrent, Eddie can’t even begin to comprehend it. At first, he bargains, offering money, tech, robots, his hacking skills -- even offers himself up to wear the collar instead because he can’t take the sight of his beloved wearing something that could blow their head right off, right in front of him, and leave him emotionally and mentally broken for life.

But the antagonist doesn’t want to bargain, even when Eddie begs -- like, really begs to the point of tears, asking for mercy and pleading with the antagonist to let his s/o go free. They have nothing to do with any of Eddie’s work. They’re innocent, and they’re too important to him! He can’t let this happen!

The begging amuses the antagonist but once again, it’s not enough. Eddie has to do the challenges, and if he completes them all correctly, the collar comes off. If he messes up, then his s/o dies. Eddie reassures his s/o that everything will be just fine, he’s got this under control, they’ll be out of trouble in no time so don’t be afraid.

It’s difficult to not be afraid when you have a bomb around your neck and a sadistic psychopath with the trigger. As bad as Eddie can be, he’s not THIS malevolent. He has some humanity left in him. But this person, they’re just out there to make him suffer because it’s “entertaining” to watch him squirm. 

As you know, by this point in his life, Eddie is very mentally unstable and could have a mental breakdown if pushed even just a little too far. His s/o is the only thing keeping him grounded, the only reason he has to keep his sanity (or what’s left of it), and this is the only person who has ever cared for him despite the fact he knows he’s not worth it. If he loses his beloved, then what would he have left? There would be no recovery from such a thing.

So, Eddie completes the challenges, although he is internally freaking out the entire time, partly because he doubts himself and partly because he has no idea if the antagonist will just press the trigger and kill Eddie’s s/o without warning. By the time Eddie is done, he’s a nervous wreck and on the verge of a breakdown, but he hopes that, by enduring all this, by letting this person watch him squirm, sweat, beg, cry, and panic, that maybe it’s enough to end this madness without his s/o dying.

But the antagonist doesn’t care that Eddie completed all the tasks. In the end, it’s about making Eddie suffer horribly because watching a nearly broken man finally break -- shatter -- is the point of all this. So, the collar has a 30 second timer set, and as it counts down, Eddie obviously freaks out, hyperventilating as he tries to plead once again for his s/o’s life, offering himself up again in their place, and yet, it’s not enough (kind of reminding him how he was never enough for his father, even if he agonized over pleasing him). The antagonist just laughs at Eddie’s mental breakdown and tells him he better use the remaining time to say goodbye. And no funny business. If Eddie or his s/o attempt to remove or disarm the collar, then it will detonate. 

Eddie’s s/o, despite being terrified does their best to put on a brave face and they tell him it’s ok, it’s not his fault, just don’t look, look away, it will all be over soon, he has to keep going for them...Eddie doesn’t know what to do, and seeing as he now has 10 seconds left, he does the only thing he feels he can and should do, and he grabs his s/o despite their protests and holds them tight, crying and saying over and over how sorry he is, he’s so sorry. 

And the timer reaches zero on the collar.

There’s a soft click.

Then nothing.

No explosion. 

The antagonist bursts out laughing, confessing that the “bomb” is a dud, was never going to explode, and since both Eddie and his s/o were too distressed to think all this through, they never even considered this as a possibility. The collar has been unlocked and Eddie’s s/o just kind of sinks to their knees in complete shock, and he can’t believe what he’s seeing. At first, he’s confused, wondering if this is all some sort of twisted dream, then he’s relieved because his s/o is safe, then he’s angry because what the hell was this?! He vows to get revenge on the antagonist and throws the collar away as he all but screams in rage.

Now alone, Eddie remembers his s/o is still on the floor, pale as a sheet and unresponsive. Kneeling down, he asks if they’re ok, tells them they’re ok, that this was all some sort of sick joke. When his s/o snaps out of their daze, they get mad and push him away, yelling at him for being so foolish

“You were just going to let yourself die with me?!” they demand.

“Yes!” Eddie responds, too overwhelmed to even know how to respond to this. 

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because!”

“WHY?”

“Because I can’t go back to my old life! Not having known you! You think that I would just sink back into my old routine without a hitch? You think I would forget you? You think I’d just move on and live life normally? How could I do that? How? If I lost you, I’d have nothing, do you understand? Nothing. My life would be empty, more so than it’s ever been, and nothing could fill that void, not the way you do. No one has ever loved me, not even those who were supposed to! But you, you love me! I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t even deserve it, but you love me anyway. You make me feel valid, you make me feel like...like I exist, like I actually matter.”

His s/o is crying, and he’s crying, and they’re both going to be emotionally traumatized for a while. Sure, Eddie will get revenge but he’s also going to be having night terrors -- nightmares would be much better than what he experiences at night -- about his s/o dying in gruesome ways while is helpless to do anything. Sometimes, he won’t even be able to sleep because he doesn’t want those ghastly images in his head, and he’ll stay up holding his s/o as they (try) to sleep (they have nightmares of their own after this experience). 

He has to come to terms with his first real encounter with the threat of loss, a real loss. He never cared about anyone before because no one ever cared for him. He was used to being ignored, bullied and belittled, and he always had trouble trusting others because of how he was raised. He never had friends, never thought he would need friends because, well, he never had any. Forming emotional attachments was beyond him, as he never had such a relationship with his parents, and that is the first time children are supposed to experience attachment. If your parents don’t love you, you grow up feeling unloved, alone, and don’t understand what it’s like to be close to people, so you just push everyone away and look out for yourself. It makes you selfish just as much as it makes you feel lonely.

But now, Eddie has his s/o, someone who just kind of barged into his life and stole his heart despite his best efforts to not feel anything sentimental because being vulnerable meant he could get hurt, and he didn’t like the idea of forming an attachment only to have it ripped away from him due to the other person’s betrayal. In his eyes, love equals abuse, since that’s the only kind of “love” this Eddie seems to have ever experienced. 

It’s going to take a lot of time -- and patience -- for Eddie to deal with this, and he’s going to be watching his s/o like a hawk. They won’t be allowed to go anywhere alone, and definitely not at night. He’ll be very clingy, protective, maybe a little possessive but mostly protective. When he does eventually find a way to calm down, it will actually make him a stronger person emotionally, I think, because he will understand himself better, and he’ll understand the relationship he has with his s/o better. This experience has taught him -- in the most insane and unwelcomed way -- why his s/o is so vital to him, and while attachment like that is almost frightening because of the risk of loss, he doesn’t want to go back to his old life and be alone, being seen as some sort of joke by everyone in Gotham. He doesn’t want to go back to being isolated, left with only his thoughts to comfort him despite his dwindling sanity and self-esteem. He needs to have a reason to press on, and trying to be better than everyone just won’t do it anymore. He needs to be loved, loves to be loved, but is also thrilled to be able to give it in return, whatever the risks may be.

And you know the antagonist is going to be utterly destroyed by Riddlerbots. Or something. Something awful will happen to that person. We know that much.

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

Ugh, so let me know what you guys think! This is way out there in left field in terms of portrayal of Arkham Knight Eddie (or just Arkhamverse Eddie in general) but this idea has been stuck in my mind for so long now. Feedback is definitely encouraged and appreciated here because this is such an epic and crazy h/c. Constructive criticism is welcome. Just don’t be mean, please.

[midyxthcrisis]

let them go - part one | j.t.

a/n: so i literally just binged the entirety of titans in like two weeks and surprise surprise i got too emotionally attached to jason todd. sorry for the hiatus, life kind of blew up for a little bit and i lost all motivation to write, but i hope you enjoy this and my future works :D 

It was a mystery as to why you had been born with the powers that you did. All anyone knew is that you came out of the womb with ash colored hair and blue eyes that matched the icy cold nature of your skin. The doctors had brushed it off as an odd birthmark, they had seen worse before. So you were sent home to the perfect little suburb your parents lived in. Your life was normal for the first five years.

But neighbors began to question as to why frost was creeping up their windows in the middle of summer. In order to avoid any conflict, your parents packed up and moved to none other than Gotham City. The place where people like you could slip into the shadows without being noticed at all. 

That was years ago now, though, and that was before the night your parents were murdered in the middle of your apartment. The night that you fled Gotham without a second thought. The night you showed up at Dick Grayson’s doorstep with frost covering the sidewalk behind you. You were one of the few people who knew Dick was Robin, but that was a different story for another day. 

Dick treated you like a little sibling. He always had, and that was the way your life was for a few months. He would go to work at the police department while you sat at home and attended school on the computer. You were hesitant to go to a “normal” school. All you had ever known was the Gotham school system, and everyone knew it was complete shit. It was rare that you would actually learn something there. Often the school day was clogged with fights and... other activities teenagers of Gotham did. 

That was until Rachel Roth showed up. 

The next few days were a blur, but now you were walking into one of Batman’s many safe houses with an alien, a girl who seemed to have a demon inside of her, and a boy who could turn into a fucking tiger at a moment’s notice. Of course it was just another day in the life of the small group you were now a part of. When you first showed up on Dick’s doorstep this was the last place you expected to be. 

You were nearly floored when you saw the unfamiliar face in the living room of the safe house. He had to have been one of the most attractive people you had ever met. 

“Who are your friends?” The mysterious boy asked, a beer in his band. Dick immediately responded,

“Not important.”

“Who is he?” You questioned with a small smile as you approached him. You could feel Dick burning holes into the back of your head with the stare only an older brother could have.

“Not important.” 

The next minute was a blur of your little group going back and forth with the boy, who you now knew as Jason, and what he exactly was doing with Dick. Then Gar pointed out the new briefcase that held the infamous Robin suit in it. That was when it was discovered that Jason Todd was in fact the new Robin. You couldn’t stop the snort from leaving your lips.

“What, does Bruce keep you fuckers in a spare room in the Batcave? Already in spandex and spedos?” There was a bright smile on your lips, but it was clear that Jason was a bit surprised you actually knew Batman’s true identity. It was a well guarded secret. “Um, Dick and I have known each other for years. I haven’t told anyone about Bruce, don’t worry.”

There was a few moments of silence before everyone went their separate ways to do whatever. Dick with Kory, Gar with Rachel. Somehow you found yourself sitting on the couch with Jason and a beer in your hand. 

“So,” Jason broke the silence, “how did you get involved with Dick?” There was a certain tone to his voice that made your cheeks flush with heat, a rare occurrence for your constantly icy skin.

“It’s not like that, you know. Dick is like a brother to me. Besides, I have a thing against dating guys with daddy issues.” A laugh left Jason’s lips in response to your joke. This laugh was accompanied with a flirtatious look from the boy, to which you rolled your eyes with a scoff.

“That includes you, Boy Wonder. You’re Robin so you’re bound to have some shit going on. Isn’t that like Bruce’s whole thing? Taking in tortured young boys and training them to be little soldiers. I mean I will give it to him, he trained Dick to be one hell of a fighter. Did you know that he keeps his throwing knives by his bed? I wouldn’t recommend trying to wake him up with water to the face.” 

Before the two of you got the chance to finish the conversation, or the beer, Dick came asking for Jason’s help with something. And so you were alone on the couch with a lukewarm beer and a new kind of warmth in your chest that had never been there before. You hadn’t noticed Kory leaning against the doorway that lead into the living room, a shit eating grin on her lips. 

“So, a thing against guys with daddy issues?” You rolled your eyes and quickly stood up from the couch.

“You’re the one fucking the bird, not me.” It was in reference to Kory and Dick’s night at the motel. The walls were paper thin. You had your own shit-eating grin on your face as you walked past the woman. 

After a few hours of watching whatever was on the tv with Rachel and Gar, the two Robins returned with minor injuries. It was a sort of ritual between you and Dick for you do help clean whatever wounds he had at the end of a particularly rough night at the police department. It was therapeutic for the both of you. So, you two were sat on the sterile tile floors of the bathroom and you were cleaning the busted lip he had in silence.

“So, how old is Jason? He can’t be as old as you or Kory, right?” 

“No, you’re not going to do anything with him.” Dick said simply between dabs at his bloodied lip. Another eye roll came from you, as well as a laugh and a gentle punch to his shoulder.

“I’m not going to, asshole. I was just curious. I know Bruce likes to take in young boys who need help, so I’m assuming that he can’t be more than, what, 19?”

Dick sighed and shifted away from you. He leaned against the cabinet in silence for a minute before he spoke. “He’s your age, he was picked up by Bruce about a year ago after he tried to take the Batmobile’s hubcaps.” You simply nodded in reply before standing up from the floor, first aid kit in hand.

“I’m going to make sure Jason’s alright. Hearing stories from you, I doubt he’s ever had anyone to clean his wounds beside Alfred. Much less someone his own age.” Dick gave you a curt nod of approval, not that you needed it, and with that you were leaving the bathroom and beginning to search through the condo for Jason.

You never were able to find him that night, but the next morning he was sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal and a black eye. You took the seat next to him once you had gotten your coffee. “Do you need ice or something? That looks pretty rough.”

“No, it’ll be fine. But I’m sure a kiss would make it feel better.” He looked at you with a grin and a wink. A snort left your lips as you rolled your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that weekend.

“Yeah, nice try. You’re not getting in my pants that easily.” You patted his shoulder gently.

And that was the last you had spoken to him until you left the safe house in search of Rachel’s mother. Jason was going back to Gotham, and you assumed that you would never see him again. The group had gone over the plan to get into the asylum that her mother was being held in, and it was supposed to be an easy mission. In and out. So with the tactile suit you had in the go bag you had brought with you on your body and your nerves at an all time high, you leaned against the doorway between the exit hallway and the living room.

“So, I suppose this is goodbye, Boy Wonder.” Your voice was much softer than it normally was, but Jason Todd put a warmth in your chest that made you softer than normal. 

“I suppose it is, but you never know. Stranger things have happened.” There was the same flirtatious grin that had been there the other night. 

“Stranger things have. But, I doubt I’ll be going back to Gotham any time soon. I left that place behind and I swore never to go back. And I’m sure if Bruce finds you anywhere but Gotham he’ll have your head on a spike.” You pushed yourself off of the door frame and walked over to him. “I may have a rule against dating guys with daddy issues, but if you keep trying I won’t stop you.”

With that you slipped a piece of paper into his hand, your phone number written on it. 

“Until we meet again, Boy Wonder.” 

[psychovigilantewrites]

Don’t Call Me That (pt. 1)

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Aftermath of torture, healing, and sex in later chapter hehe

Word count: 9000

Summary:  The new Robin and Batman stumble upon a cell in Arkham Asylum that was occupied by a very much injured, and very much still alive Jason Todd. Bringing him back, Bruce realises that Jason is unstable and keeps him locked in a room in the mean time. Reader helps Jason get used to being around another human being once more, and finds herself falling deeply with the damaged Jason.

A/N:  This was meant to be a one-shot, but I realised that it's a bit too long, so I'm splitting it into two chapters. Here's whatever I wrote so far. Psst, the sex will come later! I think this has got to be the most favourite one-shot I’ve written so far!! I’m addicted to this story, and I hope you guys will like it too! Let me know!

Masterlist

Kofi

Ao3

The light was getting dimmer and dimmer the further you strayed from the main building. The walls cracked, wallpaper peeling back to reveal brick and concrete. The air was getting thin, and the smell.

Rat piss, sewage, and that suffocating damp humid smell that reminded you of dirty laundry- except it filled the whole Old Wing of Arkham Asylum.

“Do youreally think the security breach was sourced from here, Batman?” you voiced out your doubts.

He was walking next to you, his steps hardly making a sound. “We need to make sure. Half of the East Wing’s cells were suddenly opened automatically. There is a main powerframe in the Old Wing that someone could have damaged.”

“Someone, as in..?”

“Not sure. Joker has been in his cell for the past 19 months since he broke out two years ago.”

You ignored the way his voice cracked at the end.

Two years ago, before you were involved with Bruce Wayne and his fight for justice, Joker had broken free, got hold of Jason Todd, your predecessor whom you had never met, kidnapped him, tortured him, and then killed him. After sending a video tape of his Todd’s death to Bruce, he went and created a drug that made people go crazy and kill each other. Bruce caught him then, broke half the bones in his body, and then threw him back in the asylum.

“Why did they stop using this wing?” you asked, your voice echoing back to you.

The two of you were walking down a corridor, with cells on either side. Each cell had a metal door with a rectangular slot at the top of the door to peek inside and another longer slot in the middle for passing inmates food. Some of the doors were opened ajar, nothing inside but old beds and overflowing toilet bowls, some were locked shut.

Your heart was racing. It was like you were in a horror movie. You stepped over the empty gas canisters and toilet paper that was strewn all over the floor of the corridor, walking around a rusty old wheelchair and made sure to follow Batman closely.

“Abandoned when a riot broke out five years ago,” he answered, “Something about hauntings.”

“Hauntings?” you widen your eyes.

“These are superstitious folk,” he explained, “The riot took a dozen lives. Violently. Some nurses got tortured. Rumour has it that this wing is haunted.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” you declared, though you felt chills run down your spine anyway.

“Indeed. Some of the security guards say they’ve heard screams coming from here. None dared to approach.”

“Screams? Please, I’m sure it’s just the-”

A crash came from one of the cells. You jumped so violently in shock that you tripped over a catheter on the ground. You and Batman looked at each other for one second, and then he raised his finger to his lips, making sure you kept quiet.

Nodding, you followed behind him as he investigated the cell the sound came from. He slid open the viewing window of the door, and despite the darkness you saw his expression twist to one you’ve never seen before.

Horror.

He took out a small explosive from his belt and attached it to the door. A small boom, and the door swung open. Batman rushed inside, and you were hit with the worst smell you’ve ever experienced. It made you gag, your eyes tearing up.

It smelled of blood and human feces and urine, and something that was decomposing, like the big trash bins lined up behind one of those dank alleys, overflowing with a week’s worth of disposal.

The cell was bigger than the others, and it didn’t have a bed. Only a toilet and a wooden chair that was toppled. Batman was next to the chair, kneeling on the ground over something, unmoving, as if frozen in spot, his back turned to you.

“B?” you whispered, “What is this place?”

There were scratches on the walls, some in blood. Little bones were tossed in a corner, lying in what looked- and smelled- like dry vomit.

You walked over to him, slowly approaching with caution. As you got nearer, your vision became clearer.

He was kneeling over an unconscious man wearing your Robin uniform.

Now, it was your turn to be horrified.

The uniform was tattered, cape dirty and stained with bodily fluids. The man?

Scars and dried blood littered his face and arms, his dark hair matted and sticky. He was obviously large, his frame almost as big as Bruce’s, yet you could see that he was malnourished, his cheeks slightly hollowed, his skin hanging loosely over the remains of his muscles.

And he was still breathing.

***

Alfred, Bruce, and you stared in silence at the man on the bed, now clean and hooked to an IV. None of you had said a word since you got back. Alfred was rigid the whole time he cleaned and examined him, with Bruce shadowing him closeby. You could do nothing but stand back, waiting for an explanation.

Now you were in the infirmary, the steady beat of vital signs machinery annoyed you.

“How is he alive?” Alfred broke the tension with a small whisper.

“There were small animal bones in his cell,” Bruce said with a strained voice. You knew he was doing his all to keep it together.

“Goodness,” Alfred responded, “But- the video-”

“Must have been a fake,” Bruce said, his voice now cracking, “I should have known. I should have- I- oh, God.”

Without warning, Bruce crumpled to his feet. You have never seen him like this. He was always strong, stoic, and he never let his emotions show.

The sight of him burying his face in his hands in anguish- it scared you.

“It’s not your fault, Master Bruce,” Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, “You couldn’t have-”

A grunt came from Jason Todd as he stirred awake. All three of you snapped your heads to him. You saw the way he opened his eyes, blinking at his surroundings as he tried to register where he was. Bruce rushed to his side.

That was his mistake.

Jason Todd started screaming.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” he roared, sitting up and crawling out of bed, ripping the IV from his hand.

“Jason-”

“NO!” he yelled, “YOU’RE NOT REAL. STAY AWAY!”

His voice was deep and hoarse, like someone who had been screaming his whole life.

“Jason, it’s me,” Bruce tried to slowly approach him. He was on his feet now, though he stumbled getting there. His expression was wild, his mouth downturned into a scowl, his eyes darting from Bruce, to Alfred, to you, to the bed, to the whole room, like a wild animal cornered.

“This is real?” he growled a question.

“Yes, son,” Bruce assured, “This is real. We found you. Please, lie back down. You’re hurt.”

“You’re… real?” his voice broke halfway.

“Yes, I’m real,” Bruce’s voice was the same.

Then, Jason let out a laugh. A loud, haunting, hysterical laugh that was absent of humor.

“Good.”

He jumped at Bruce and tackled him to the ground, his fingers around Bruce’s neck. You reacted quickly, rushing over and kneeing him in the face so that he let go of your Bruce and stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly and set his eyes on you.

He proceeded to attack you, but before anything, Bruce had him restrained, wrestling him to the ground.

“Jason! Calm down!”

“NO!” he shouted, “NO! NO! IT’S YOUR FAULT. IT’S YOUR FUCKING FAULT. DIE! DIE!”

He trashed about with surprising power, trying to get Bruce off him. Bruce got his arm around Jason’s neck, and you saw him clawing at his arm, attempting to break free. The younger man’s movements got slower, weaker, as Bruce cut his oxygen supply and eventually knocked him out.

Bruce carried his son to the bed.

“Alfred, please sedate him,” he instructed. “We’ll move him to the cell downstairs. He’s too unstable to be here.”

“Are you okay?” you reached out to your adoptive father.

“Yes,” he nodded, “He’s surprisingly strong.”

“He’s a survivor, Bruce,” you smiled at an attempt to comfort him, “I can’t imagine what he’s been through, but he’ll get through this.”

“I hope so.”

***

The cell Bruce had in the Batcave was less like a cell, and more like a room. It was a large square box with four walls and a roof on one side of the Cave, with high end security. It had double doors, each requiring a registered thumbprint to enter. Bruce had built it in case he needed to hold someone hostage there. The outer layer was made out of lead, and you wondered what had gone through Bruce’s mind when he added that feature. The cell even had a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, and a sink.

This time, though, he made sure the room with white interiors looked more comfortable for Jason. He put in a double single bed with fluffy sheets and pillows, a whole bookshelf full of classic literature, a cupboard, a desk and chair complete with a table lamp.

Jason was still sedated when all of you moved him to the cell. He had been sedated for a while so he wouldn’t wake up and rip off his IV. You helped lift him up, and found that he was heavy, heavier than you had expected him to be.

Then, Bruce went to the Batcomputer and switched on the security camera inside the cell and watched as he slowly regained consciousness and went all ballistic again. He toppled over the shelf, the chair, the desk. Threw the books around, ripped out the pages, punched the walls, and was screaming.

“Let me go!” “Fuck you!” “I’m going to fucking kill you!” were some amongst the many extremities he shouted at the camera.

And you watched as Bruce stared into the screen showing his broken, damaged son.

***

“He’s quiet,” you pointed out when you walked over to Bruce at the computers. It had been a week of watching Jason scream and thrash about in the room- which was a complete mess.

“Yes, he has been that way for a few hours now,” Bruce frowned.

You saw from the screen. Jason was just sitting down in one corner of the room, staring into space.

“Well, at least he didn’t throw the food down the toilet bowl this time,” you shrugged and sat down next to him. Alfred would bring a tray of warm soft foods and set it on the tray of the rectangular food delivery hole of the second, internal door.

Out of spite, Jason would take the food and throw it down the toilet before returning it empty. This time, you saw that it just sat there on the tray, untouched.

“I was thinking,” Bruce mentioned, “Of bringing in Dr. Leslie or Dinah. He is familiar with both of them. They could help with putting him on medication and giving him psychotherapy.”

“Yeah, for some reason,” you began, “I don’t think he’ll take that so well.”

“I… don’t know what to do.”

You stayed silent for a few moments. The past week, you saw Bruce in a light you had never seen before. Emotional, vulnerable, helpless. You appreciated that he trusted you enough to reveal that side of himself in front of you.

“Let him calm down a bit,” you suggested, “And maybe… Maybe I can help.”

“How?” he frowned.

“If you bring in Leslie or Dinah, he’ll know in an instant what you’re up to,” you explained. “And maybe it’s too soon for therapy. I think right now he just needs to get used to being around another human being.”

“Hmm,” Bruce considered, “Okay. We’ll go with your idea. How will you do it?”

Your heart swelled with joy. You loved it when he acknowledged you.

You waited a couple of days before trying it out. The whole while, Jason was just sitting down in his corner, silent and unmoving.

Nervously, you approached the first door on the external side of the box, pressing your thumb to the digital square on the wall and hearing it beep in approval. You opened the door and closed it behind you before approaching the second door.

You took a deep breath, felt for the taser on your belt, and then pressed your thumb on the second door.

The first thing you saw when you opened the door was Jason scrambling to his feet in surprise, his eyes vigilant. You lift both your hands up in surrender.

“Not here to hurt you,” you said slowly, “Just here to chill.”

He narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion.

To prove it to him, you sat down on the floor by the door, and took out your book. Heart beating in your chest, you tried to calmly open the book and stared intensely at the words, not reading anything.

In your peripheral vision, he just stood there, stiff and still like a statue, staring at you, analysing you. You had expected him to attack, but ten minutes passed, and he was still there.

Then-

“What do you want?” he croaked, voice harsh and gritty.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, eyes not leaving your book, “Just chilling.”

A momentary pause.

“Leave.”

“No,” you simply said, turning a page.

“Why are you here? Did he send you?” he demanded.

“No. I just want to read in silence, if you don’t mind,” you rolled your eyes.

You wished you could see his expression.

Another five minutes passed, and he didn’t say anything else, or do anything else, but stare at you in caution.

After an hour, you got up and left, leaving a very confused Jason Todd in his cell.

***

You continued that routine for the next three days without exchanging a word with Jason. He would just stand there and glare at you for an hour while you pretended to read. On the fourth day, however, there were more than just a few words exchanged.

“You again,” he growled at you as you entered.

“Hello,” you smiled warmly.

“What do you want from me?” he barked.

“Nothing,” you repeated, “I just want to-”

“Chill?” he cut you off, “I don’t fucking believe you. I don’t trust you. What is he planning? Is he trying to mock me?”

“Mock you?” you responded, taken aback, “Why would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jason grit, “He’s done worse. He just wants to see me suffer.”

“What?” you frowned, “No. He just wants to help you.”

“Well, he’s too late for that,” he spat.

“Look-”

“Get the fuck out. Don’t come back.”

“He thought you died,” you tried to explain, “Jok- He got sent a video. Of you getting shot. Dying. He didn’t know.”

“I don’t care,” he fumed.

“He loves you, Jason,” you said softly.

Then, a light flickered in his eye. “What did you call me?”

“Uh, Jas-”

You choked on your words when Jason suddenly had his hands around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs. You didn’t have time to react, scratching away at his arm helplessly.

“Don’t call me that,” he growled.

You were going to reach for your taser, but then he let you go and went back to his corner. You sucked in a deep breath, eyes watering.

You ran out-

-and closed the door behind you to lean against it, trying to get your breath back.

“Are you okay?” Bruce worried, approaching you fast, “I’m sorry. I should have waited out here instead of at the computers.”

“I’m fine,” you panted, “He didn’t hurt me. Just scared me a bit, that’s all.”

“This was a bad idea,” he frowned, “We should stop-”

“No!” you hurriedly denied, “No. It was my fault. I didn’t know. I said his name. He didn’t like it and reacted to it, that’s all. I won’t say his name next time.”

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

“Bruce, please,” you insisted, “I want to help him. Please, let me continue.”

You looked at your father’s blue eyes, full of concern. “Okay.”

***

Despite the scare he gave you, you were ready to enter again the next day. There was something about Jason Todd that made you feel like you owed it to him to help. Maybe it was plain pity, or maybe it was the way that his eyes had a flicker of hope when he realised he wasn’t imagining things.

The digital screen beeped in approval as it registered your thumbprint, and you pushed open the door. Jason was already standing, muscles taut, ready to spring at the first sense of danger.

You didn’t say a word, but just smiled at him and sat down where you usually did, pushing over the fallen books and torn paper on the floor to create a little space for yourself.

Trying your best not to look nervous, you opened your book and stared at the words again.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he grit.

“Yeah, well. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want to get rid of me, my dude.”

“I’m not your dude,” he said in disgust.

You looked over to him and smirked. “Whatever you say.”

And you continued to pretend to read.

After several minutes, you heard a heavy sigh coming from Jason. Out of the corners of your eye, you saw him give up and slump back onto the ground, his knees up to his chest. He leaned his head back against the wardrobe and closed his eyes.

And for the first time in his presence, you found that you were actually reading.

***

You continued for a month. Entering and sitting down for a couple of hours to read before going back out. Sometimes with few exchanges of “Good morning” or “Miss me?”, mostly going unresponded. Sometimes he would sit down and glare at you, or stand up and glare at you, or sit down and rest his head and close his eyes. Always from a distance.

The first time you started picking up the books and rearranging them back onto the bookshelf, he looked like he was about to burst a vein in his temple.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“I’m cleaning up,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Don’t.”

“What are you gonna do, choke me again?” you rolled your eyes.

You could almost hear him seething in his corner, vibrating in anger.

The next day you came back, the books were back on the floor, strewn everywhere.

But every time before you left, you would still rearrange them back.

Sometimes you would bring in food with you, simply leaving the tray on the desk. He did eat a little, but never when you were around, and never more than a few bites. He ate only to survive. In fact, the more you went to see him, the more you started to notice the little things.

His bed was unmade, the sheets pulled back and covers thrown about. But you knew he had never once slept in it. He never changed his clothes either. It had started to bother you, because he never showered, and his body odour was getting quite distinct.

His eyes were sunken and dark, his hair was greasy and messy, his facial hair overgrown. You wondered if Bruce left a razor in there for him. It was probably a bad idea.

One day while you were sitting down and reading, Jason was in his corner, curled up and eyes closed, Alfred entered the first door and slid in a tray of food from the compartment of the second door. You got up to take it, feeling Jason’s eyes on you as you walked. But instead of setting the tray on the desk like you usually did, you put it on the ground next to you as you sat and read again.

That day, the menu was pumpkin soup with toast. Alfred had always kept the food light and easy to digest. You picked up a piece of toast from the plate, dipped it in the soup, and ate it while reading.

“Are you eating my fucking food?” Jason fumed from the distance.

“Someone should,” you bit back, dipping the toast back in the soup and continued to eat.

“Stop it.”

You looked over at him with challenging eyes. “Why should I?”

“It’s my food,” he insisted.

Jason hardly ever talked to you. In fact, that was the most words you’ve heard him say in a couple of weeks. He was possessive over his food, apparently, which didn’t make sense because he hardly ever ate.

“But it’s not like you eat it,” you argued, curious as to where this would take you, “I’m making sure it doesn’t go to waste.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, and then shifted slightly closer, leaning in towards you. “Give it to me.”

You pretended to consider it for awhile. “No.”

He growled.

“Come and take it if you want it so badly,” you challenged.

Immediately, you regretted it. Because he got up, and walked slowly towards you, looming over you like a predator watching its prey. Your heart started to beat faster in your chest, your palms started beading with sweat.

He then crouched down and snatched the piece of toast from your hands, taking the tray away and walked back towards his spot on the floor. Setting the tray down, he immediately started to ravish the soup and toast, his eyes never leaving yours the whole time.

It was the most he’d eaten ever since he arrived.

“You shouldn’t eat too fast,” you warned, “Your stomach’s not used to that amount of food yet.”

“Watch me.”

He cleaned the bowl in three minutes as you stared in shock.

***

“Who are you?” Jason asked out of the blue.

It was your sixth week there. Six weeks of sitting down in silence and hardly ever talking. Occasionally cleaning up after him, just to see the room messy again. Occasionally trying to spark up conversation, only to be greeted by silence. But that time, it was him who started it first.

You told him your name, still pleasantly surprised at his engagement.

“I don’t give a fuck what you’re called,” he spat, “It doesn’t explain to me who you are.”

Frowning, you closed the book. You wondered if it was a good idea to tell him that you were Bruce’s newly adopted daughter. Would he feel betrayed? Jealous? But if you didn’t and he found out, wouldn’t that be worse? Plus, you didn’t want to lie to him.

After all, you were trying to help.

“Bruce adopted me a year ago,” you explained, “I’m officially his adopted daughter. I’ve only recently been Robin. When we found you, it was just my second month.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, his jaw clenched. “Typical. Lose one toy, find another one to play with.”

“I’m not a toy,” you defended heatedly, “He… saved me. I owe him.”

He didn’t ask, but you knew he wanted to, so you continued anyway. “He found me at a bid. A human trafficking bid. After my parents died, I ran away from the orphanage. I got kidnapped. After finding out I was a virgin, they organised an event to see who would bid the highest to own me.”

It seemed like Jason’s expression didn’t change, his mouth still in a scowl. But you saw the way his eyes softened. It was a good idea to explain, after all. He must have drawn conclusions that Bruce had replaced him with you shortly after his death.

“Batman crashed the party right before I was about to get sold off for… Five thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars,” you scoffed, “I guess that was how much I was worth. Could you even buy a car with that? I’m not sure. Maybe a used one.”

“Anyway, I was quite shaken up. He took pity on me, I guess. Maybe it was my puppy dog eyes that made me look so pathetic that he decided to take me in. Mom always said I had a pathetic look,” you shrugged, “That’s who I am I guess. Now I’m in my last year of highschool. I turn seventeen in two months! I'm only a year or so younger than you. You don’t have to get me anything, of course. It’s cool. I never really cared much for birthdays anyway.”

You tried to lighten the mood, but all you saw was Jason’s unchanging expression. You guessed that was as much as he was willing to say that day, so you got up and started cleaning again despite knowing he was going to just mess it up.

***

He did mess it up again, but what shocked you that day was not the mess, but the fact that he was actually on the bed. The bed was still unmade, and he was sitting unnaturally upright, but still. It was progress.

You sat down on the floor and read your book. After five minutes, he asked, “What’s the book about?”

Trying your hardest not to look surprised in case he took it the wrong way, you answered, “A brief history of mankind. From evolution, to the agricultural revolution, to the current day.”

He just blinked at you in response, and you wondered when was the day that he had stopped glaring at you.

You tried to break the ice. “Bruce put all the books he thought you might like on the shelf. I’ve noticed that they’re mostly classic literary novels. You like those, huh?”

Not a word.

“I never really could get into those. I tried, but it’s not my thing, you know? Or maybe I started with the wrong book.”

He closed his eyes instead of answering you.

Sighing, you decided not to push it, and went back to your book.

About fifteen minutes passed. And then-

“You like science and shit?” he spoke up, his eyes boring into yours.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, taken aback by the sudden question.

“Start with Jules Verne. Twenty thousand leagues,” he told you, then closed his eyes again.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

Silence.

***

“Why do you sit there?” Jason asked you two days later.

“Huh?”

“Why do you sit on the floor when there's a desk?” he repeated in annoyance, like an underpaid customer service worker at the mall.

“Well, I didn't want to intrude on your space,” you told him.

“You being here already intrudes my space,” he rolled his eyes.

Jason was more relaxed now. He was actually leaning against a propped pillow on the bed, one knee brought to his chest, the other leg crossed over it.

And he was reading a fucking book.

“...so you can sit anywhere you like. Doesn't make a difference,” he continued.

“Then can I sit on the bed next to you?” you teased lightly.

You had expected him to glare at you in contempt, to tell you to fuck off or get out, or even not respond to you at all. So you were very much surprised when he said what he did.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Despite trying your best to act neutral, your jaw dropped. You quickly recovered, and cleared your throat nervously, standing up and slowly walking towards him. Jason shuffled a bit, going upwards against the wall at the head of the bed.

You slowly sat down at the foot of it, still maintaining some distance from him for his sake. Bringing your bare feet up, you crossed them and leaned against the wall the bed was pushed against.

Getting comfortable, you opened your book and started reading. For two hours, you and Jason Todd sat on the bed next to each other, reading with no other sounds except the occasional rustling of a page being turned.

You closed your book once you were done, but before you could get up, he asked in a small voice. “How long was I… There?”

The way his voice was shaky, the way it came out in a harsh whisper, and the fact that it had taken him seven weeks to ask- it tugged at your heart.

“Two years,” you said objectively, making sure no emotions leaked into your voice.

“And he thought I was dead the whole time?” he grumbled.

“Yes.”

“That's why he never came?” he choked out.

Fuck, you tried not to let your tears fall.

“Yes,” you whispered back.

“World's greatest detective, my ass,” he snorted.

“He's killing himself over this,” you told him softly, “I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Like what?” he demanded, looking at you with anger, with red eyes pooling with tears.

“Vulnerable. Clueless. Breaking down and crying next to you while you slept,” you elaborated. “You may not forgive him for now, and that's understandable. But Bruce? He’ll never forgive himself. Not in a million years.”

“Please leave.”

You didn't argue. You didn't hang around to clean up. You left immediately, because of the way he said his please, like someone who was tired, so tired. It was the way he told you to leave, it wasn't out of anger or spite. It was out of desperation. Because he was looking away when he told you, refusing to let you see the tear that fell on his face that you saw anyway.

***

“What are you looking at?” he grunted. “Close your mouth. You look like an idiot.”

You snapped your mouth close, not even aware that it was ajar.

The room was exceptionally clean- cleaner than when you cleaned it yourself. Jason had properly made the bed, fitted the sheets and folded the covers. The torn pages of paper were gone, and on his shelf were all his books, neatly arranged.

In alphabetical order.

Yet, Jason was still smelly, and he still hadn’t changed his clothes despite the wardrobe full of fresh t-shirts and pants.

“You clean up better than I do,” you grumbled, sitting at the foot of his bed carefully.

“That’s because you’re useless,” he snapped.

You tried not to smile despite his insult. The bickering was fun, and it showed that he was more familiar with you now.

Trying to push it a little further, you narrowed your eyes at him and started sniffing the air loudly.

“You smell,” you told him.

“If you don’t like it, leave,” he bit back.

“There’s hot water in the shower you know,” you reminded him, “You could go shower. I’ll wait right outside.”

“What for?” he eyed you suspiciously.

“For moral support!” you grinned, holding two thumbs up.

And whaddaya know?

He snorted a laugh, and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, “You really stink. You’d give Killer Croc a run for his money with that stench.”

“If you don’t like it,” he leaned closer towards you, “Leave.”

“Ugh,” you grunted. And then, you had an idea. Probably a bad idea. He would probably murder you.

You stood up and announced, “I’ll be right back.”

After ten minutes of running around the mansion looking for items, you finally came back with a bucket, a sponge, and a fluffy towel.

“What the hell are you up to?” Jason demanded, sitting upright.

“If you won’t go to the shower, then I’ll bring the shower to you,” you grinned triumphantly and went to fill the bucket with warm water from the shower. You set down the filled bucket on the floor and motioned to Jason.

“Well, get on the floor.”

“What?”

“I’m going to give you a bath, and if you stay on the bed, it’s going to get all wet,” you explained, “So get on the floor and take off your shirt.”

He stared at you with bewilderment in his eyes, and then suddenly let out a bark of laughter. “Why on Earth would I listen to you?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to splash all this water on you, and you’re going to have to sleep in a wet bed,” you threatened.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he bickered.

“Fine, I’ll bargain with you,” you said, “If you listen to me, I’ll tell him to turn that off.”

You pointed to the single security camera at the top corner of the room, always switched on, watching and recording.

He clenched his jaw, contemplating your tempting offer.

“Fine,” he conceded, and slid to the floor, taking off his shirt.

You smirked.

“If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked,” he smirked back.

You really didn’t expect him to mess with you like that, and in result, you felt your cheeks heat up.

“N-no,” you denied, “I- you just stink.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you kneeled in front of him, bringing the bucket of water closer. You took the sponge and soaked it, but before you pressed it on his skin, you just realised the situation you put yourself in.

That close to Jason, with him looking up at you and waiting, you gulped. Because his body wasn’t as bad as you thought two years of starvation would have caused. Sure, he was definitely skinnier than he should ever be, and his muscles were barely there, but his overall frame, the structure of his body was still large.

You finally pressed the sponge against his rising and falling chest, not meeting his eyes. The warm water spilled from the sponge and trickled down his chest, onto his stomach. You moved your hand in a wiping motion, cleaning the sweat off the surface of his skin.

Scars littered his body, healed cuts of various sizes. Some were burns, some were bullet wounds, and some were the crescent shapes of bites.

You moved the sponge to his arms, wiping down the contour of the remaining biceps he had left, going under to wash his pits, then going down to his forearms, which you noticed had long rough scars running down from his wrists to the crook of his elbows.

Your chest tightened.

Despite the hell he went through, you still thought he was beautiful.

You felt your breathing start to quicken.

Moving to his stomach next, you noticed that the water had seeped into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, making it turn dark, making it stick to his skin, stick to the long cylindrical shape of his-

“Your pupils are dilated,” he pointed out.

Your eyes snapped back to his.

“Wh-what- I wasn’t- they’re not!” you sputtered angrily.

He looked at you with an odd expression. Well, any expression that wasn’t a hateful glare was odd, you supposed. But his eyelids were droopy, the corners of his mouth relaxed and not tight.

It looked like he was actually enjoying it.

“You don’t find me disgusting?” he whispered.

You frowned at him in question, bringing the sponge up to wash his neck. “Well, you smell a bit gross. But by the time I’m done with you, that’ll be gone.”

“No. I meant by me. My body. My face. You don’t think I’m disgusting?” he said in a voice so small, you could barely make out the words.

His body made you think things, but none of them were disgusting. In fact, if he looked like that now, you wondered how his body must have looked like before, when he was healthy. You glanced at his face.

He had scars there too. One at the corner of his upper lip that made him seem like he was permanently smirking, one across the bridge of his nose, another long one that cut from his temple down to his brow, barely missing his eye. And you didn’t even count the smaller ones, silver little lines that were scattered all over his skin.

His cold blue eyes had scars in them as well. Not physically, not literally. But when you stared deep into them, you could almost see how truly scarred he was, and that scar had nothing on the ones you could actually see.

“There is no way that I could ever find you disgusting,” you told him earnestly.

He stared at you for a while, and then looked away to the side. You soaked the sponge and wiped his face, pressing it to his cheek. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he allowed you to travel up to his hair, wetting it, going behind his ears, and back to his nape.

With a plunk, you dumped the sponge in the water and then opened the cap of the soap you had brought.

In an instant, Jason recoiled from you, “No. No soap.”

“Just a little bit?” you pressed.

“No soap,” he insisted, pushing your hand away, “It smells too strong. Makes me sick.”

And suddenly, it clicked.

The reason why he left his room in a mess, the reason why he didn’t sleep on the bed, the reason why he never showered or changed.

Because it was all too much.

The sudden change from a disgusting, smelly, rat-infested torture room to a clean, proper, neat environment with a warm bed. It was too much for him, and he wasn’t used to it yet.

He wasn’t used to being clean.

And the smell of a perfumed body wash would most definitely be too much for him.

“Okay,” you nodded, setting the soap down. “Then I’ll wash you up one more time, is that okay?”

He nodded, still not looking at you.

You were back at his face again for the second time, and then you cupped his cheek, using your thumb to feel the roughness of his overgrown facial hair.

“Do you want me to help shave you?” you asked.

“No way in hell would I ever let you come near my fucking face with a razor,” he scoffed.

“Fair enough,” you mumbled back a reply.

Once you were done, you took the towel and wiped him dry, trying your best to avoid looking at his crotch because you knew his pants were absolutely soaked through. You got up and went to the wardrobe to take a fresh pair of pants- a black sweatpants this time- and a white t-shirt. You set them on the bed, and took the bucket to the bathroom to throw away the contents.

Once you were done, Jason was already changed into his new pants, and had just finished putting on his t-shirt. He looked much better, fresher, and-

“You smell way better now,” you chuckled.

“I did what you asked,” he said, “You better make that happen.”

He gestured to the camera with his thumb.

“I will. Promise,” you smiled, picking up his stinky shirt and wet pants before heading out.

***

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bruce grumbled.

“He’s not an experiment, or a criminal, Bruce,” you argued, “There’s no reason for you to keep surveillance on him that way. He deserves his privacy.”

“It’s about safety. His and yours,” he explained, “I wouldn’t know what’s going on in there while you’re inside if the camera is deactivated. I wouldn’t know if he’s- if he’s hurting himself.”

“I trust him, Bruce,” you insisted, “And he trusts me too! Look at what happened! He let me give him a freaking sponge bath!”

Bruce frowned in contemplation.

“He’s finishing his meals, he’s reading, he’s actually having conversations with me,” you listed, “He’s improving. Fast. Next thing you know, he and I could be best friends.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “But next time you go in, you’re bringing a panic button with you.”

The panic button you kept whenever you went for patrol was so that you could trigger a silent alarm to Bruce if you were in trouble.

“Okay, that’s fair!” you nodded your head excitedly, watching him as he pressed a button on the keyboard, switching off the camera in Jason’s room. The last thing you saw on the screen was Jason lying down on the bed, sleeping soundly.

***

“Okay, so,” you announced, standing up while you opened the plastic bag, “I got you a few things.”

Jason was on the bed, but proceeded to get up on his feet and tower over you. For some reason, he had started sitting or standing closer to you.

“I got you unscented shampoo and body wash,” you looked into the bag, naming the items you got, “Unscented shaving cream, and an electric shaver! You can’t hurt yourself with this, so Bruce agreed to-”

You looked up and gasped slightly at the closeness of his face to yours. You didn’t realise that he had stepped over so close to you that you could almost feel his warm breath on your face. Almost.

He took the plastic bag from your hands, his skin brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, it gave you goosebumps. He turned around with the plastic bag now in his hands, leaving you in shock.

That is, until he started taking off his shirt.

“W-woah!” you called out, “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my clothes,” he simply said, now not wearing a shirt.

“Why?”

“Because I want to shower,” he looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. “Why? Wanna join?”

“Wh-wh-j-join?” you stuttered, “Uh, no thanks. I’ll just. Leave you to it, then.”

You turned to leave. Then-

“Wait.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning back around to look at him, trying your best to maintain eye contact.

“Is that… diner in Gotham Village still around?” he asked quietly.

“The corner one on Vincent Street? Sure, it is,” you tilted your head in curiosity, “Would you… like anything from there?”

“The burger,” he said gruffly.

Your mouth widen into a smile. It was the first time he ever asked for anything, more so food. “Fries?”

“Sure.”

“Milkshake?”

“Yeah.”

“Chocolate?”

“Strawberry!” he looked at you as if you were crazy, and then disappeared into the toilet.

“I’ll be back in an hour!” you announced, skipping out in joy.

Vibrating with excitement, you opened the door to Jason’s room, not expecting to see a totally different man in his bed.

No, it was still Jason, but fuck.

Fuck.

He cleaned up well.

Finally showering after eight weeks, Jason Todd had transformed into an almost different person. His uncut hair that poked his eyes was no longer greasy. In fact, it had a slight bounce to it now.

He changed his shirt into a light blue V-neck, and most significantly of all, he shaved

Now you could see the way his angular jawline was cut into a shape as if some Greek artist sculpted it, the way his pink lips stood out against his milky skin - lack of tan from being kept indoors for so long, the way his cheekbones highlighted his facial structure.

And as if you didn’t think of it before, you thought about it again.

Jason Todd was a freaking hottie.

“Uhh, uhmm, uhhh,” you said, stunned and fully aware of the way your face was probably flushing.

He let out a chuckle, and walked towards you, reaching out to take the bags of food from your hand. All the while you were stunned in silence, unsure of how to react to the changed man.

“Anyone home?” he snapped his fingers in front of you.

“Uh, yes, sorry,” you shook your head, “I, uh, didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“Expect what?” he set the bags on his desk, reaching in to take a fry. “Me to look so good?”

You were sure your ears were burning. “N-no! Not at all. Not that you don’t look good, but- uh- I mean- fuck!”

“I don’t understand you,” he took out the food and arranged them on the table. “My scars are more obvious like this.”

“I think your scars are sexy,” you blurted out.

He blinked.

“Uh, I mean!” you tried to backtrack, “Ugh, fuck it, let’s just eat!”

You took your own burger and went to sit on the bed.

“No food on the bed!” he barked.

“Okay, dad,” you rolled your eyes, settling with sitting on the floor.

To your surprise, Jason took all the food and put it on the floor in front of you, and then sat down opposite you.

Discreetly, you watched as he took the first bite.

He closed his eyes, chewing slowly, savouring the taste in his mouth. It was as though he was passionately making out with his burger, caressing the bun with love.

Smiling to yourself, you ate yours in silence, letting him appreciate the intimate moment he had with his food that he must have thought about while being forced to live on rats.

***

“What’s that?” Bruce asked curiously.

Ever since he switched off the camera in Jason’s room, he had been more agitated- or as agitated as he could get. He kept on asking you what you did, having you report back to him, demanding every little detail on his son’s wellbeing.

“My laptop,” you answered, “I was thinking we could do something different today. Maybe watch a movie. He’s missed out on so many.”

“A laptop,” Bruce hummed, “Do you think he would like one? To occupy his time? Or a television? Or a phone? Or- a tablet? Or-”

“Woah there, cowboy,” you chuckled. Bruce seemed desperate to provide Jason with anything he wanted. Maybe as a way to push the guilt away, maybe as a way to reconcile.

Or maybe he was just being a father who wanted to spoil his son.

Whatever the reason was, you thought it was extremely sweet.

“He’s only now just getting used to being in a clean environment,” you explained, “All of that may overstimulate him, and I don’t want him to revert back to how he was.”

“I see.”

“But I’ll ask, okay?” you said, heading to the room. “We’ll see how he handles a movie.”

You opened the door to see Jason sitting on his bed with his legs spread in front of him, reading a book.

“Hello,” you greeted.

“What’s that,” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“My laptop!” you told him excitedly, “I thought maybe we could watch a movie today.”

“Movie?” he frowned, crossing his legs to make space for you on the bed.

“Yeah,” you sat down in front of him, “I’ve got a whole terabyte of illegally downloaded movies and shows. We can choose one together and watch, if you’d like?”

He contemplated for a while, eyebrows drawn together while you opened your laptop. “Fine.”

“Yay!” you cheered, “Okay, so what do you like to watch? Action? Drama? Thriller? Comedy? Or… Romance?”

“Put on your favourite movie,” he stated.

“What? Nah, you can choose something you’d like to watch,” you declined, “I’m cool with anything.”

“I want to watch your favourite movie,” he deadpanned.

You purse your lips. “Okay, sure. Scoot over.”

He propped two pillows up against the headboard of his bed and moved to the side so you can squeeze in between him and the wall. At first, you were not used to being in close proximity with him, and you wanted to give him personal space.

But after a while, Jason himself had sat next to you closely, stood in front of you or behind you closely- so close that the skin of your arms would brush against each other, or in this case, the heat of his thigh against yours as you balanced the laptop on each of your thighs.

The next surprising thing that happened, though, was when he put his arm behind your shoulder so casually, that anyone would have guessed it was a thing he did on the regular.

You were taken aback by his advances, but appreciated that he felt comfortable with you. It was such an accomplishment considering everything that happened, so you leaned into him snuggly.

You clicked play.

And then, he came in close to you, brushing his lips against your ear and said in the lowest whisper that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“If this movie sucks, I’ll kill you.”

It wasn’t a threat, you knew it wasn’t.

But the heat on your neck from his breath when he whispered to you, the low tone of his voice-

You couldn’t help but clench your thighs together in arousal.

***

“I wonder if he’ll be okay,” you thought out loud.

“I’m so jealous that you’re the only one who gets to see him. When can I go?” Dick whined.

“Two weeks is a long time,” you ignored Dick, “Bruce, is the phone offer still available?”

“Of course,” Bruce said, cutting his steak as silently as he walked. “I already have one. It’s on my desk.”

“That’s great!” you scooped up mashed potatoes.

“Seriously, though,” Dick pressed, “It’s been like what, five months? I want to see him.”

You looked across the dining table to meet your older brother in the eye. It was rare that Dick came over and had dinner with everyone, but his visits had been increasing ever since Jason got back.

“We can’t risk overstimulation, Dick. The only reason why he probably accepted me so easily is because I wasn’t part of his old life. He hasn’t even mentioned anything about… you know. And he hasn’t brought you or anyone else up.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, “It’s just- he’s my brother.”

Those last three words spoke volumes. A simple fact that carried so many emotions. Sadness, relief, longing, regret.

Dick was really special. You got the younger sibling treatment from Dick as well, and you only knew him for a little over a year. Even then you had formed such a bond with Dick Grayson you knew you wouldn’t have with anyone else in the world.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine his relationship with Jason, and how painful it must be to find out his little brother is alive but not allowed to see him.

“He just needs more time and space,” you said, “But he’s getting better, Dick. Much better. Even making jokes and teasing me. You’ll know once he’s ready. And I don’t think it’ll take too much longer.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, haven’t you?” Dick narrowed his eyes at you. “Like, every single day.”

“Well, yeah, he’s probably bored,” you shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

“A little birdie told me that you gave him a sponge bath a few months ago,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

You looked at Bruce accusingly, in which he responded with a simple, “Alfred.”

“He wasn’t showering at the time, and he stank like hell,” you explained.

“Sure, use that as an excuse,” he grinned, “Have you seen him shirtless since then?”

“Why?” you asked a little too defensively, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Nothing,” Dick laughed, “I wanted to ask about his progress. Health wise.”

“Oh,” you calmed down, “Well, Alfred has him on a high protein diet now. He’s definitely filled up since then.”

“Filled up,” Dick winked.

“Grow up, Dick!” you snapped.

After dinner, you went to Bruce’s desk to pick up the smartphone and brought it downstairs to Jason’s room.

“Two visits in a day. A late one, too. What’s the occasion?” Jason mused when you came in.

“I have something for you,” you sat at the foot of his bed.

“Is it my birthday?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, “We got you a smartphone. It has internet access and my number. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. In fact, it’s switched off. I’m gonna leave it here on the shelf. And if you don’t want it, just ignore it.”

“Why all of a sudden?” he eyed you suspiciously from where he was sitting at the top of the bed.

“Well,” you started, “I’m going to be away for a couple of weeks. On a trip with my friends. Sort of a post-graduation celebration. And I thought that since I won’t be here to keep you company, you might like to… you know…”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Talk? Text? Call?” you winced at your own awkwardness. Why were you even nervous? “I mean. You’d be bored so at least you have internet. If you want, of course.”

“Are you implying that I’d miss you while you’re gone?” his lips turned into a smirk, “Or are you the one who will miss me?”

“Neither!” you huffed, “I just thought that you might want some other form of entertainment besides books.”

“I was locked away in a cell for two years without food, water, books, or the internet,” he scoffed.

“And look how great you turned out,” you bit back sarcastically, before realising what you had said. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“Jesus, calm the fuck down,” he complained, “It’s fine. You don’t have to be careful with me, I’m not a fucking baby.”

You knew that, but at the same time, you still couldn’t call him by his own name.

“Okay,” you nodded, “Well. I’m leaving in the morning. I’ll be back on the tenth.”

You glanced at the digital clock on Jason’s desk. It was one of the most important things in his room. It allowed him to keep track of the time and day- imperative to keeping one’s sanity in check.

“Tenth, twentieth, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” you reminded him, “You do know that we’ve unlocked the door a couple of weeks ago, right? You’re free to go anywhere you want.”

Everyone had deemed him more or less stable. He wasn’t going to hurt himself or anyone else unless provoked or triggered, so Bruce decided to leave his doors unlocked, but Jason has yet to step outside.

“Doesn’t make a difference,” he mumbled, lying back down to face the ceiling.

Deep down, you knew what he meant.

It didn’t make a difference if you left the door unlocked, or threw him out of the room. Because at the end of the day, Jason was still being imprisoned by himself.

[monster-bcrn]

SPOOKY’S 100 FOLLOWER SHOUTOUT!

Okay for real this is the fastest growing blog I’ve ever had hehehe. Never expected Grundy to get this popular this quickly!

Freaking love this zombaby and I’m so glad y’all love him too! As promised, gonna shout out some fantabulous bloggos that helped get Grundy to where he is today. XD

@akasupergirl/ @azombieme (I FREAKING ADORE GRUNDY AND KARA AND LIV. I swear Grundy’s loyal to Kara like he was to Shayera and Jade and Liv is totally his baby sister and is gonna protect her from.....everything. :P

Even pigeons, because they’re legion.)

@thecatgoddessbast (A blast from the past! Glad to see you again after I rampaged and caused chaos as a certain deranged pincushion of a mushroom way back in the time before present. XD

Now I get to do that as a zombie. :D Win/win!)

@starcityvigilante (OLLIE. FFFFFF-okay for real I’m HYPED to plot wacky ideas with you. Grundy has a MASSIVE grudge against Green Arrow and I’m like......*push these two together* you both get along right now.)

@folcire (We literally just started talking and I’m loving your Ivy already! Can’t wait to see how Grundy grows to see her the more he talks to her because they’re both sassy plant people that way. XD)

@themartlans (FFFFFF-J’ONN. Everyone’s favorite green uncle :D I freaking adore him and I HATE how the most he ever interacted with Grundy was him being tossed into the bay. >_<

They really need to talk more, and MAN! That Injustice verse of yours is SICK. Definitely hyped for making Grundy into an insurgent and a good zombie instead of Supes’ lapdog.

( Look at this face....LOOK AT IT.)

@blackwingsbluedings (One of the best Dick Grayson’s out there and definitely loving seeing Grundy be less smash and more “......hug?” They both need hugs I swear.)

@marvelousdamsels (We haven’t talked much but I adore your muses and I just hope Grundy doesn’t come off as too weird or clingy.......wait.......that’s......literally Grundy.....

:D)

@theirfirstexperiment (GRUNDY ON A RAMPAGE YOOOOOO! Better run fast. XD)

@amazonexile/ @gothamprens/ @captainstevertrevor ( Freaking love your muses and I love seeing Diana and Bruce actually WANT to help Grundy. It’s too easy just beating on Grundy and I love seeing them actually bother to try to get to the gentler side of the Hulk’s crazy cousin. XD)

@justiceebound / @nighttfight ( *slams fist on the table* YOU ARE AWESOME! Your Shayera is awesome, your Bruce is a national treasure and I can’t wait to throw Grundy at Supes and Diana, because these guys need a big reconciliation thing after all the chaos from literal years of slugging it out.

And I LOVE it. >:D)

@ofamazonia 

@theamazondiana   (Both of you are AWESOME Wonder Women and MAN I love plotting ideas. I’m tired of seeing Diana being turned into too much of a warrior while negating her role as a peace-maker and y’all NAIL her kindness and wisdom and need to give everyone a chance. Freaking LOVE IT!)

@raininginkyxto (LOL I always love imagining Grundy in Marvel and now poor Weasel is kind of stuck with him. XD Man, if the Hulks meet Grundy then that poor bar is going to really get smashed.....)

@notatomo (GIANT. Man I loved that movie as a kid and I LOVE the subsequent giant robot and tiny kid works inspired from it (example being the CRIMINALLY under-appreciated Sentinel series by UDON.) Can’t wait to see what happens when Grundy talks more to someone bigger than him. XD)

@liminalstctic (GRUNDY HEARTS TINY GIRL. XD Yeah he’s trying his hardest to help her. ;A;)

@dolceclavier

@gobsnacc

@adrenalinesaint

@ninelivesruined

@yellowskinnedwackyman  (CREEPER! I’ll forever ADORE these two butts because they’re team Tree Lobsters.)

@collidingxworlds/ @thecursedhellblazer (I. Love. Your. Constantine. I swear I have so much fun writing Grundy trying to get drunk (and failing) and learning to cuss up a storm while still being a mad lad ready to throw down with mega-zombies to protect his tiny friend.

DC, make this friendship canon or so help me Grodd...)

@chaosmultiverse (I love your Klarion so much! He’s so much fun! XD And Teekl for the epic win!)

@raichoose (Herbert West and Solomon Grundy? THAT aIN’T GOOD! D:>)

@gctjinxd (Freaking LOVE your Jinx! LOL how she manipulates Freeze and how Grundy isn’t even REMOTELY phased by her powers. Like he is TOUGH. Even bad luck won’t stop him.)

@killcrcroc (BIG BAD KILLER CROC! I love your Waylon and I adore how he has a collection of watches and that awesome suit. XD Croc definitely deserves more love since he’s much smarter than he looks, and tough enough to even get Grundy to back down in a serious fight.)

@babydxhl (Baby Doll is criminally underappreciated and I love how she’s the opposite to Grundy. She looks child-like but is very crafty, mature and knows how to get what she wants, while Grundy is physically strong and big enough to bully his way into anything he wants, but is very simple and child-like and would rather watch the birds. XD)

@theednygma (An awesome Ed Nygma and I love how Grundy is so unsure of everything yet still goes along for the ride as a support. XD)

@sleightlyoffhand (BUNNY MAN! Okay the idea of Josiah monching on carrots in Grundy’s pocket makes me smile so much. XD)

@thanagrian (BIRD-NOSE! Honestly every time I think of Grundy and Shayera I get the feels big time. These two definitely deserved more than just two episides to give them a unique friendship.

(I love that STAR Labs mission so much in Injustice. XD)

@the-arkham-librarian ( I love Eliza so much! She’s crafty, stubborn, sweet and kind and just cares about everyone so much when few don’t. Grundy grew so attached to her I swear she’s like his little sister at this point. XD And he’s totes the best uncle along with Eddie.)

@fatherdamned ( I LOVE YOUR RIDDLER OMG! He’s so snarky but man he is SO DAMN FUN to write with! Grundy is there for his green friend, no matter what!)

@fartemis-crockpot

( I freaking LOVE Artemis and Grundy, especially in the Injustice Society stuff. Yeah Grundy’s been a butt before but he genuinely likes and cares about her and the rest of the team and I’m like....

Look at these bunch of a-holes. Yeah they’re a family and even if they’re bad.....they’ve got each other. And that’s what counts. C:)

@powerhours/ @lastofmars (Green dad? Green dad. I love your J’onn so much and I’m like *throws Grundy at green dad* Here give this disaster some love. XD)

@gothamdad (YET ANOTHER AWESOME BATMAN. :D)

@redsleuthed (TIM! I love Tim and I swear these two should talk more because Grundy doesn’t WANT to fight and I think just letting someone hear him out would help him immensely.

Plus that stuff with Freeze? Poetic cinema.)

@themusespace

@12thlevel​ (On this blog we stan socially awkward green boi with angery grandpa genius mastermind. XD)

@pluckyingenue

@seekthedarknesswithin (SHADE! I love Shade in Justice League where he constantly throws Shade at everyone so you can imagine how excited I was to see Shade on Tumblr! We haven’t done much but man.....even Grundy was excited to see an old friend from the Injustice Society/ Injustice Gang.)

@youstolemycoat (Okay, hands down, Nick Necro is so much fun to plot with. His Robin verse is so fun too and poor Grundy tries to help but a certain birdy won’t let him. XD)

@ufotm (Tiny alien baby. :3)

@thetrigonborn

@kitfreeman

@partcfyouruniverse/ @diamondcladclown ( An awesome mun and my goodness her Harley is EPIC! I love the metas about Harley too and you just GET HER. And that????? Is the sign of an excellent writer and mun.)

@bigbadkillercroc ( I love your Croc and the brotherly bond he has with Grundy! It’s so refreshing to see these two bonding instead of Grundy tearing off Waylon’s face like he did in the Solomon Grundy mini-series. :C)

@blizzardmuses (I LOVE YOUR MUSES OMG. Your Batgirl?????? I ADORE HER. I love Freeze as a member of the Birds of Prey and I love tossing Grundy at your muses because the guy needs love and an excuse to smash.....and I really love both lol.)

@starfirechan (You’re Starfire is so freaking CUTE! I love how she and Grundy get along so well since they’re kind of two misfits that aren’t very well-versed in city life. XD)

@gotham-crusader/ @maximummuses (One of the best Batman and Damian Wayne RPers out there! I have a lot of fun with our threads and even if they fizzle out there is so much heart to them that they’re some of my absolute favorites no matter what muse I put on. C:)

@teufortsquidman (PRAWN! Okay, a giant mega-zombie and an Eldritch abomination? Yeah they’re gonna be good pals lol. XD)

@tragedybcrn (Hands down one of the BEST Batman RPers I’ve talked to and plotted with. I love how Bruce helps Freeze and even Grundy try to be better than just crooks. Grundy though has had so many bad experiences that he can’t trust anyone anymore unless there is some SERIOUS help. But he’ll learn to at least try to trust Batman.....because Batman was genuinely nice to him.)

@krygothite ( I freaking LOVE your Bane! We haven’t written much but FFFFF0yeah he’s epic. XD And Grundy is kind of nervous about bringing Bane to Slaughter Swamp because Bane is tough but not kaiju-sized gators and snakes tough....

Or....maybe he is.....let’s test him. >:D)

@batvvmn

@redwinefangs (VAmpire Batman? Vampire Batman. We have an epic trifecta of vampire Bats, Freezy-wolf and zombaby Grundy and I LOVE it. These three are so much fun to plit ideas around. XD)

@bclaur

@stcrshnes

@titanicscionofthestars ( I freaking LOVE Sara! All across my blogs I love her and the way you write her! And I swear her reaction to Grundy being impaled????? MY HEART. ;A;)

@jcinthedance  (JERVIS! Okat for real I love the image of Hatter and Grundy just enjoying a tea party at the asylum and being weird dorks. XD)

@adventurepunks (I absolutelky LOVE your Zatanna! She’s so fun and I’d love to plot more with her! :D)

@shesquiinnsane

@laughter-in-white (YOU????? Are??? Like the BEST Joker. Hands down. Your Croptop J is so much fun to plot with and he’s funny and being dramatic for Bats. And Grundy is like ‘yeah he’s crazy but he’s my crazy.’)

@yourfavoritesidekick

@smartvulpix (* glomps on you for being epic*)

@thehouseofivo (Your Freeze and Julian are AWESOME! Love throwing my guys at them both lol)

@lil-miss-romano

@sweet-tea-solly

@slauhter

@occultsleuth

@wiisectrpillar

@wonderlandcarpenter

@gunborn

[peterxwade24]

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Chapter 8 (for real this time)

Okay. So, Bicho is Spanish for male bug while Principito is Spanish for Little Prince.

Enjoy!

With Lila’s blood-curdling scream, however, came Signal, or as Gotham had taken to calling the yellow clad boy, the Daytime Bat. Signal appeared a few minutes after Lila pretended to faint, tucking his grappling hook and batarang back into his utility belt upon seeing both Dick and Jason before he looked at where everyone else was looking, and seeing who he could only assume was the girl most of the Rouge gallery called “Hatter’s Girl”. He frowned, although no one could see it, as he suddenly realized how young the girl looked. He had always assumed (read: Bruce had lead him to believe) that “Hatter’s Girl” was what the Rogue gallery called Hatter’s squeeze, but from the way Scarecrow and The Riddler were allowing the girl to cling to them he could only assume it was more a note of paternal obligation than damnation of the girl.

Duke made eye contact with Jason, or as close to eye contact as he could make while wearing his helmet. Jason’s face was soft, his disbelief evident for everyone to see.

Duke was confused, he had never seen Jason look like this before and Dick seemed to be just as lost as he was. He glanced at the oldest Wayne child and saw his confusion was plain to see. “Is everything alright here?”

Alya turned to look at the yellow clad meta vigilante with a scandalized expression. “That girl is conspiring with villains!”

Duke frowned. “Ma’am, I mean no disrespect but what evidence do you have?”

-*-*-*

Stompp, Sass, Trixx, Wayzz, Tikki, and Plagg were all hiding in Chloé’s purse, knowing they couldn’t be with their chosen had most of them upset.

Plagg, who has nearly always been separated from his holders in the past, seemed to be dealing with it the best while Tikki, whose holders have always been permitted to keep her close, however, wasn’t faring very well. Stompp, whose holders were almost never permanent, was simply lounging against Plagg while Trixx relaxed into the side of the purse closest to Chloé. Sass and Wayzz were attempting to placate Tikki while sharing looks filled with disbelief.

“Tikki. Your kid is a Guardian. You’re not being renounced. He just can’t keep you on him right now.” Sass began. “Trixx’s kit would never take you away from your bug, Plagg’s kitten wouldn’t take you away from your bug.”

“Tikki, take deep breaths. Remember why we’re all in Trixx’s kit’s purse?”

“...to keep warm?”

“Why do we need to keep warm?” Wayzz prodded.

“...because Gotham is unusually cold.” Tikki continued.

“Do you want to be alone in your bug’s fanny pack right now?”

Tikki looked down. “No.”

“Okay. Now go cuddle with Plagg or Trixx to keep warm.” Wayzz sighed as the older being slunk away to curl into her other half’s side. They turned to look at Sass and the two beings shrugged at the way their friend was reacting. “She’s going to be a handful, isn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so my friend, I’m afraid so.”

-*-*-*

Thana turned her head to look at the meta vigilante, recognizing the vigilante as Signal. She looked him over, realizing that the hero in front of her had to be one of Batman’s newest additions, she knew he wasn’t Damian or Jason because Jason was still in the group behind her and Signal appeared to be much too old to be Damian. She decided, based on how his eyes kept flicking from her to the duo hugging her and back before his eyes sought out their tour guide and bodyguard. Nodding to herself, deciding the civilian identity for Signal had to be Duke Thomas, she turned in her uncles’ grasp to face the vigilante and waited for his attention to return to her.

She offered the hero a smile when his attention was back on her. “Excuse me Mr. Signal?” She glanced at her Uncle Ed to confirm that was the hero’s name, before looking at the vigilante clad in bright yellow. “I didn’t realize hugging your uncles you hadn’t seen in person in years was illegal.” She dropped the Parisian accent while talking to the vigilante, letting her Crime Alley accent wrap around the words. “I was stolen off the streets by the GCPD when I was nine and this is the first time I’ve seen them in person since then.”

Signal seemed to nod understandingly while Alya seethed on his other side.

“Yeah right. Those two are probably your suga-” Alya was suddenly cut off by Nino’s glare. Nino could only take so much of his one-time crush’s whining before he got tired of hearing her voice.

“This is my Uncle Ed and my Uncle Jon, Césaire. They have been huge parts of my life since I was forced from my home after my mother died.” Thana’s voice grew hard and her Parisian friends knew that she hated having to speak about her past.

Alya’s face paled slightly, not having known the girl had been left without a mother.

Thana focused only on the vigilante, knowing if she looked to her friends she would lose her nerve. “I am sorry to interrupt your patrol, I know how you Bats love your city.”

Signal nodded and turned back to the French group. “There’s nothing wrong here. Continue on with your tour.” He nodded and pulled out his grappling hook. He shot the hook in the other direction and was essentially just a yellow blur on the horizon.

Thana returned to her uncles’ embrace.

---

Ed and Jon decided that they were going to tag along with the tour, one on each side of Thana because her dad was still out there and they didn’t currently have eyes on him.

Their tour guide seemed to just roll with it, allowing the two to join them as they continued to walk around Gotham proper.

Alya was stuck carrying Lila around for a while, grumbling under her breath about how “it wasn’t fair that Marinette got to stay attached to her dumb sugar daddies”.

A majority of the class walked closer to their tour guide, noticing the worried looks the Gothamites kept shooting their group as they walked with Ed and Jon, because those are the names they were introduced with and they just didn’t know if they would trust these men. On the other hand, Thana’s friends, who had all at least talked to the duo before, seemed to orbit around Thana and her two uncles. Jason, who continued to stick to the back of the group, couldn’t help but overhear the conversation that was going on between the group right in front of him.

“So, you’re the hooligans who’ve been keeping our niece out of trouble.” Ed began, glancing at Jon over Thana’s head to shoot his lover a smile.

“How have you been keeping our niece out of trouble?” Jon continued, his voice seeming to soothe Thana in ways Thana’s friends had never been able to.

“Mèo con? It’s just a matter of us not giving her any time to get in trouble.” Kim smiled and reached over to ruffle Thana’s hair.

Nino smiled, watching as two of his three childhood friends interacted. “Chloé and I keep those two out of trouble.” He shrugged and linked his arm with Chloé’s. “It’s nice to properly meet two of Alqamar’s uncles.”

“Do you think we could slip use our free time for a real tour? An in depth tour?” Thana glanced at her friends, a worried smile on her face. “I mean, only if you all want to.”

Thana’s friends shared a look, Chloé shooting Alix a subtle glare when it looked like the pinkette was going to be unkind, before all five of them turned back to Thana. “Sure. As long as your uncles accompany us.”

Thana brightened, her blue grey eyes seeming to come alive with every moment. “Okay.” She nodded and threw her arms around her friends before pulling away and rejoining her uncles.

---

Mlle. Bustier sighed, the class all seemed to be impatiently waiting for her to release them to go about their free time. She nodded and waved towards the door. “Just go.”

Thana grabbed Kim’s hand, not looking as he grabbed Nino’s, Nino grabbed Chloé’s, Chloé grabbed Adrien’s and Adrien grabbed Alix’s, before pulling her friends out of the hotel, glancing up at the side of the hotel before freezing. She finally took in the bullets on the side of the building, her eyes landing on the pair of bullets, a little J hidden in the corner of one with the other having a little T hidden in its corner. She reached her hand up to them before shaking her head and focusing back on her mission.

She led her friends down alleyways and across streets, steering clear of anywhere she knew her father was ought to frequent, before she pulled them to a stop in front of the Iceberg Lounge.

“Okay. So, technically, none of us are old enough to go in but Uncle Ozzy won’t care as long as we’re wearing red sleeves.” She turned to her friends, who all seemed skeptical.

“Are you sure this is a good idea Chatte?” Adrien asked, his tone gentle as though he was afraid she’d react badly.

“I promise Bicho.” Thana smiled reassuringly at her friends before she turned and pushed open the door. “Uncle Ozzy! I’m home!”

-*-*-*

Jason looked at the newest bat, knowing he hadn’t been at the press conference because he’d be patrolling so he didn’t know about Bruce’s proclamation. Jason glanced at his older brother, who shrugged at him when blue met blue-green, before turning back to the scene in front of him. He watched as his little sister when did she stop being so little handled the situation with a grace that he’d remembered from their time together on the streets.

He’d have to clue the newest bat into Bruce’s proclamation. He’d get his number from Dick after they dropped the class off back at the hotel.

---

Jason watched the class out of the corner of his eye (and the window into the lobby) as he and Dick walked back to his apartment. “Hey Dickiebird? Do you have Duke’s phone number?”

Dick pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before landing on the right one. “Yeah. You want it or do you want me to arrange a meeting?”

“I doubt he’ll come if a strange number requests it. Could you?”

“He gets done patrolling in an hour or two. I’ll send him your address and tell him to drop by after patrol.” Dick shot Duke a text and smiled before bumping shoulders with Jason. “She was like a mini female you. A spit fire with a heart of gold.”

Jason shrugged. “Let’s just hurry. Kutlat Saghira gets irritable when we’re apart for too long.”

---

Jason sat on the couch in his living room, Damian firmly seated on his lap and refusing to move, waiting for Duke to knock on his door. Tim, Steph and Cass were standing in his kitchen recreating a Vine on Tim’s Tik Tok account. Dick and Wally sat on the loveseat, Mar’i, Iris and Jai sat on the floor colouring in a colouring book on the coffee table.

A knock sounded on the door, causing Dick to stand to get it because Damian refused to let Jason up.

Dick opened the door, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey Duke.”

“Hey, uh, Dick. What’s up?” Duke nervously rubbed the back of his neck, his smile seeming just a little forced until he looked into the kitchen and saw the three recreating a Vine. “So this is where you all have been hiding.”

“Not, not exactly.” Dick responded, moving out of the way to allow the younger man entry. “So, do you remember Bruce saying he was putting together a press conference?”

“Vaguely.” Duke walked into the apartment, noticing the collection of shoes to the left of the door and toeing off his shoes without much thought to it, before noticing all of the people in the living room. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Jason called, his voice even tempo’d so as to continue to soothe the boy in his lap. “I’m Jason, I was the second Robin.”

Duke startled at seeing the man, looking at the other man in the room as he casually referred to himself as “the second Robin”. With wide eyes he looked at Jason and mouthed “does he know”.

“That’s Wally West. Formally Kid Flash, part time Flash.” Jason smiled, a slow lazy smile that only being surrounded by his family brought out in him. Tim, followed by Steph and Cass, vaulted over the back of the couch and settled around Jason, with Cass ending up sprawled across Tim and Steph’s laps. “He knows.”

Duke nodded, drifting to the chair sat across from the couch. “Of course.” He paused a moment, taking in how everyone was sitting. Dick, at some point, had reclaimed his spot beside Wally. Mar’i settled on the arm of the loveseat beside her father, her hands clinging to both her father and her Aunt Cass (who had held her hand out to her niece upon noticing her intended location), while Iris sat between Dick and Wally and Jai sat on Wally’s lap. “So, what’s up?”

Steph looked at her little brother, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Bruce said some things after the press conference. About how ‘no child of his would associate with a child of a rogue’ because Jace’s little sister is the daughter of the Mad Hatter-”

Duke lit up, his warm brown eyes locked on Jason’s face. “That was your sister?” He let out a silent laugh. “Oh my Amazon. She was so cool.”

Jason nodded, taking in the way Duke seemed to be admiring his sister. “She was always diplomatic when we ran into anyone on the streets. It’s part of the reason why any kid wearing red sleeves is allowed into the Iceberg Lounge and inside Robinson Park’s limits.”

“Oh. Okay. I think I remember seeing her on the streets a couple times when we were younger.”

Jason just shrugged. “Probably.” He looked down after Damian poked him, only to find a pair of green eyes locked on his face with a barely there “hm” the only indication that Damian wants introduced. “This rascal here is Damian al Ghul-Todd. Around here he gets called Kutlat Saghira, Little Nuget or Principito.”

“Hello Damian. I’m Duke, I’m,” Duke looked at the gathered Waynes, looking for visual cues, before looking back at Damian, “your uncle.”

---

Jason was startled awake by a loud knock on his living room window. He glanced down at the bed, seeing all of his younger siblings as well as his son were in the bed, before slowly and gently moving Damian into Cass’s grasp. He slowly slid out of the bed, shoving his feet into a pair of newly acquired slippers, before padding into the living room and moving the curtain to reveal that Batman was knocking on his window. He propped open the window with a curt call of “what do you want Bruce?”

“It wasn’t enough to steal all of my other children, you had to steal Duke too?”

“It is not my fault he was operating under the assumption that you would be there for him through anything. We simply told him the truth.” Jason crossed his arms over his chest, his blue-green eyes looking more and more green as the older man continued to piss him off. “Duke deserved the truth. Besides, I’m pretty much sure I told you to forget my address after you passed it on to Alfred.”

“That is beside the point.” Bruce looked as though he was going to continue before the tip of a Wakizachi was pointed at his jugular notch.

“You are angering my Baba. Leave.” Damian, who even in his half asleep state was protective of those he called his, stared up at the man who fathered him.

Bruce fled with his figurative tail between his legs, deciding he would have to reclaim his children in another manner.

Taglist:

@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel @moongoddesskiana @abrx2002 @ladybug-182 @greatcatblaze @thatonecroc @vixen-uchiha @superbwhispersconnoisseur @sauseyyy @susiej1118  @bluesimani @thatonecroc

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 3/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Colin Wilkes, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas Rating: T (for now) Case Fic / Kid Fic a03 link

The library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to the baby. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for her one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

***

(dick)

Venice is a nightclub that has gone by many names during its Gotham tenure, and just as many owners. Dick has been undercover here at least twice, back when the club was catering to the wealthier patrons of Little Italy. The current management clearly hasn’t bothered with maintaining that exclusivity - the building is now shabby and outdated, even for this neighborhood. One thing that hasn’t changed, though, is the real draw of Venice, which is the illegal casino in the back rooms beyond the VIP lounge. Through all the club’s owners, the casino has always been run by the Falcones, and always frequented by the city’s most morally flexible elected officials. In the past four nights that Dick’s been staking the place out, he’s seen five judges, two city council members, and even the new police commissioner slipping out the back door into the alley, stinking of gin and cigar smoke and patting their coat pockets with an air of satisfaction. It’s good intel to have, Barbara’s told him. Always helpful to keep the files updated on who’s being bought and by whom. None of that really makes him feel better about the fact that he’s been staking this place out for four nights and still hasn’t managed to pin down their actual target.

It’s embarrassing, is what it is. He’s Nightwing, for God’s sake. He’s taken down whole Russian mobs in Bludhaven, and now he’s being completely eluded by a third-string Falcone no one’s even heard of.

Oracle had ID’d the doer of the Torres/Howard murders in a matter of hours, true to her word, and the ballistics had predictably matched up with a few other murders that the police never bothered investigating. Susanna “Susie” Falcone, a second cousin once removed with a rap sheet that puts many of her relatives to shame. Her name must still have some pull in political circles, because she’s only done time once, in spite of being indicted almost a dozen times. Gotta love good old fashioned judicial corruption, Jason had said. No one had been able to argue, looking at the number of charges dismissed.

All in all, it was supposed to be a fairly simple tag-and-bag. Once they’d found her place of work - officially, the Venice nightclub, unofficially, the family casino - he’d been tasked to track her, question her, and then turn her in to the police. He’d chosen his stakeout perch well, on a hotel roof high above the alley, he’d followed her, unseen, and so far, she’s given him the slip every freaking time. The woman has vanished through every doorway from here to Robinson Park, as only the most enterprising criminal can. Were this a different kind of case, Dick might have been impressed.

Instead, he’s annoyed, and having to compromise - his vantage point is lower, closer but more exposed in the thin shadows of a third story construction platform right above the alley. He can see the door to the club without any difficulty, but the moment he moves, he’ll be open to attack.

He’ll just have to move fast. Fortunately, that’s what he’s best at.

There’s a soft motion behind him, almost quiet enough to escape his notice entirely. It’s Jason - Dick hadn’t expected him to actually turn up. No doubt he’s here to make sure they finally succeed in catching their mark tonight, but he’s been so adamant about not leaving Danielle with anyone except Dick that it’s still a surprise to see him. What’s equally surprising to Dick is that he was apparently hoping Jason would show, if the relief he feels at seeing him is anything to go by.

It’s a nice moment of solidarity, until Jason opens his mouth. “So, fourth night’s a charm, huh?”

Dick bristles. “What happened to not leaving the baby?” he retorts.

Jason bristles back, but doesn’t rise to the bait. It’s a little wrongfooting - a reminder that things are changing between them. Dick is used to the veneer of antagonism that hangs over his relationship with Jason, the unresolved tension they both pretend not to notice. They’d gotten into a pretty good groove when he was acting as Batman, staying out of each others’ way for the most part, and working together when necessary. Dick’s pretty sure Jason doesn’t actually harbor any murderous feelings towards him, just like he doesn’t actually hate Bruce, no matter what he says.

“The girls and Alfred ganged up on me,” Jason says, leaning back against the scaffolding. “Whatever. I needed to get the hell out of there anyways. I don’t know how you stand being around them all so much.”

Dick laughs. “They’re not as interested in me,” he admits. “I’m not the cool sibling.”

Jason doesn’t respond right away. It's hard for Dick to tell, when he’s wearing the helmet, but he thinks Jason is probably waiting to see if Dick is joking. It’s another way things have shifted between them - Jason’s holding back, not jumping straight to lashing out, like he used to. It should be a good thing - it is a good thing, but it’s throwing him off balance all the same. He feels like he's spent most of the past several days looking for Jason, even when Jason is right in front of him. He’s used to trying to find the Jason he knows - or knew - the Jason who was taken away from him. Now there’s a new Jason, a Jason he’s still getting to know. Dick can’t choose between them, can’t decide which one he wants to find every time he looks at him. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to find his one lousy mafia shooter.

“Looks like the cops are covering up the ballistics report on Reynolds,” Jason says, after a moment. “Go figure.”

Dick frowns. “Just Reynolds?”

Jason grunts. “Hold on. What.”

Dick turns to look at him.

“Did you burp her?”

Oh, Dick realizes, he’s on the comm. Someone back at the Manor must have pinged him on a private line.

“Then get Alfred to do it.”

It’s curious that the ballistics on Cy Reynolds’ murder are the ones being suppressed, Dick thinks. He was the only one killed with a submachine gun - the bullets from most of the other crime scenes had come from a standard Beretta APX, and the object of his stakeout, Susie Falcone, had used a Glock on Danielle’s parents. The Glock matched a few other shootings, the Beretta matched none. None of that is particularly noteworthy - after all, Susie is a criminal, and Beretta shell casings are a dime a dozen at any mob shooting.

“Fine. I’ll check back in five. If you asswipes don’t pick up, I’m coming back there.” Jason makes an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, which Dick takes to mean he’s hung up.

“Everything OK?”

“Just peachy. By some cosmic fucking joke, I’m the only person in the family who can get the baby to take a damn bottle. I told her they just need to burp her, but I guess that’s too complicated a task for a family of genius detectives,” Jason grumbles. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her. Shit.”

“Jay, relax. She’s fine.” Dick can’t help but grin at him. It’s honestly sweet, the way Jason and the baby have gotten attached to each other. Dick likes to think he’s her second favorite, but it’s pretty hard to tell. No matter who’s holding her, she’s always looking at Jason, and Jason never stops looking at her.

“It’s fucking cold out here,” Jason says mulishly.

Dick raises an eyebrow. “I noticed. It’s April, not August. If you really want to go back, I’m not gonna stop you.”

“I don’t…” Jason sighs. “Look, I’m here, okay? You bungled this grade school op three nights in a row, so congrats, you triggered the bat buddy system. If I leave and you fuck it up again, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Dick supposes it’s his turn not to rise to the bait. “Fair enough,” he says easily, turning around to face the alleyway again. “What were you saying about the ballistics on Reynolds?”

“Oh, Oracle ran the bullets through Interpol. Turns out our ill-fated gang boss was offed by one of Carmine Falcone’s personal weapons. The record’s been scrubbed from US databases, but Babs had a hunch.” Jason sounds impressed.

“Been scrubbed meaning...there was a record,” Dick follows, “and some people might still remember, if they saw the bullets. Hence the coverup.”

“Yup. Hence the coverup.”

“Could explain what the commissioner was doing here the other night,” Dick muses.

Jason snorts derisively. “See, this is what I hate about the mafia. They’re so goddamn predictable. Kill the competition, pay off the cops, around and around forever. It’s so pedestrian.”

Dick laughs. “You’d rather deal with Clayface?”

“Fuck yes I would. Clayface has flair, you know? Anybody can be a mobster, shit.”

Jason has started shifting with agitation, or maybe impatience. Either way, their vantage spot isn’t hidden enough for him to be moving around. “Get low if you’re gonna be twitchy,” Dick tells him. “Or if you’re gonna have a cigarette, but I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“Lucky for you I quit then,” Jason says, crouching down next to him. “I’m not jonesing, I’m just fucking cold.”

“We could huddle together for warmth,” Dick jokes, grinning unabashedly when Jason’s helmet fixes him with a death glare. “Wait, you quit smoking? When?”

“When I started taking care of a baby, obviously.” Jason goes still, suddenly. “Is that her?”

The door to the alleyway opens, and they both tense - but it’s just a man, a bodyguard, by the looks of him. Close-cropped blonde hair, early 40s, used to throwing his weight around. Feeling there’s something familiar about him, Dick nudges Jason and motions for him to take a photo. Jason starts almost imperceptibly at the contact, but follows suit. They both hold perfectly still in the shadows as the man looks around, glances in a cursory way along the rooftops, and then sets off down the alley towards the street.

“I know him,” Jason mutters. “From Tim’s case files - he was with Intergang.”

Dick doesn’t say anything about Jason calling Tim by name, but it’s a welcome development. “Looks like he switched sides, if he’s hanging out here.”

“Wonderful,” Jason says. “All right, I’m gonna check on the kid again.”

Dick represses the urge to give him a shoulder squeeze, or ruffle his hair. It’d probably result in him getting shoved off the platform, but Jason’s being so....not different, because Dick’s always known that this Jason was still in him, somewhere. Always hoped, anyways. When Jason had been younger and acted like this, surly with his words but tender with his actions, Dick had always thought of him as cute. It’s like that now, too, except it’s not just cute, because Jason has several inches and at least two weight classes on him. It’s cute in a different way, an adult way. It’s cute in a way that makes Dick want to push harder against Jason’s armor, to catch as many glimpses of that side of him as he can. If he thinks about it too long, it’s cute in a way that makes him want, recklessly.

“Red Hood to Batgirl,” Jason says. He’s calling on the family line this time. “Give me an update.”

“You’re seriously a helicopter parent, you know that, Hood?” Steph laughs in Dick’s ear. “We figured it out. Well...Black Bat figured it out.”

Jason’s shoulders sag a little in relief. Cute, Dick thinks, involuntarily. He needs to get a grip. “About fucking time.”

“She prefers being propped up,” Cass says. “It helps her swallow.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. And she likes her back straight.”

“You said none of that, actually,” Steph says. “You just told us to support her head. Which we have been, thank you very much.”

“You have her now?”

“Robin has her.”

Dick and Jason look at each other. Jason says, “What the fuck?”

“Right?” Steph sounds amused. “I was surprised too....his friend is here, that ginger kid? He’s the one that took her from the orphanage, right?”

“Batgirl, I swear to god, if anything happens to her - ”

“Oh, calm down, jeez,” Steph groans. “They’re being supervised, okay? It’s honestly precious, you would agree with me if you could see it. I’ll text the pictures to N.”

“Please do,” Dick says. Speaking of cute, in a way that’s much safer to think about.

“Go do your job now,” Cass tells them. “We’re handling it.”

“Yeah, what she said. Batgirls out.”

“Feel better?” Dick asks, after a moment.

“Don’t ask me that,” Jason grouses. “And show me those pictures when you get them.”

Dick grins. “Sure, Jay.”

“Ugh.”

Dick decides to change the subject, before Jason gets too antsy and tries to bail. “So how do you want to play this, when Susie shows?”

Jason points to a dumpster halfway down the alley. “We wait until she’s there. I’ll get the club door, put a taser on it to stop her getting back in or anyone else from coming out. You cut her off before she gets to the street, and we question her on the backside of the dumpster. I’ll take line of sight, since I’m packing.”

Dick nods. “So is she.”

“So is every goon in those back rooms, sure. That’s why we lock their asses in.”

“And if they come out the front?”

Jason spins a gun in his hand. “Rubber bullets do the job just fine if you know how to aim. Let me worry about the backup.”

Another thing that’s changed about Jason - or that hasn’t changed, depending on how far back Dick looks. He uses rubber bullets now, whenever he’s working a case with one of them. Supposedly it’s a stipulation from Bruce, but Jason didn’t use lethal force on the couple cases he and Dick worked together, either, back when Dick was wearing the cowl. Dick thinks Bruce just gave him an excuse - whatever bloodlust Jason was fueled by when he first came back to Gotham has long since dried up. There are still things that set him off - Barbara had informed them about a dead rapist in the Narrows just last month - but Bruce hadn’t even commented on it, besides the barest acknowledgment. Dick thinks he might be the only one that actually cares when Jason kills someone, anymore. And what’s really disturbing is that he’s not actually sure how much he cares. For instance, he knows Jason has a third gun, holstered under his jacket, loaded with live ammo. He could call Jason out on it, insist he ditch it or at the very least unload it.

He says nothing. Let me worry about the backup. If this mission ends in a massacre, Dick will only have himself to blame.

The door opens again, and out steps Susie Falcone.

She immediately looks around, staying still in the doorway for a minute or more. Dick is pretty sure she hasn’t seen him following her, but he’s familiar with the sensation of being watched. He and Jason both shrink further into the shadows, waiting for her to make a move.

The whole process takes about six seconds. The moment she gets a few paces into the alley, they drop down. Jason electrifies the door handle, and Dick outmaneuvers her easily, slapping his police-issue cuffs on her and kicking her gun aside, then spinning her into the wall behind the dumpster. She hits it with a grunt. By the time she’s glaring at him, Jason is at his side again.

“Nightwing and Red Hood?” she says. “Damn. Didn’t expect to see you fellas out here.”

She doesn’t seem scared of them. Dick guesses they’ll have backup coming their way soon.

“Hey, what do you know,” Jason says conversationally, picking up the gun and emptying the clip in one swift motion. “Nightwing, I do believe this is our Glock.”

“Not mine,” Susie objects. “Picked it up off the club floor.”

“Come on, Susie, you’re smarter than that.” Jason crosses his arms. “Look, I can appreciate a sensible weapon. The Berettas the rest of your family favors? Too flashy for me. I loved Sopranos as much as the next guy, but come on.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. “Thought you were a Sig man,” he says in an undertone. He hadn’t expected Jason to take the lead, but it’s working. Susie looks agitated at the mention of her family.

“Wow, stalker. Remind me to move safe houses,” Jason quips back. “Aw, look, she slipped your cuffs.”

There’s a taser in Susie’s newly freed hand, and Dick quickly sidesteps it, twists it out of her wrist and sends it clattering down the cobblestones of the alley. Jason sweeps her legs out from under her and knocks her down flat, maybe a little harder than Dick would’ve. Thankfully, she goes down without a fight.

“Let’s try this again,” Dick says, kneeling next to her and zip-tying her wrists. If he wasn’t sure before, he is now - she was expecting them. They won’t be alone for long. He throws a couple smoke pellets down to the ends of the alley, and clips a nearly invisible wireless mic to the shoelaces of her boot under the guise of patting her down.

“You’re obviously not surprised to see us, so just tell us what we want to know,” Jason tells her, squatting down. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really give a shit that you shot Big Mouth, but what did Linda Torres ever do to you?”

“Let me up,” Susie snarls.

“No. Talk, or I’ll give you a taste of that taser you tried to pull on us.”

“Hood,” Dick hisses.

“See? He knows I’ll do it. Save yourself the grief, Susie.” Jason points the barrel of his gun lazily at her temple.

Susie narrows her eyes. “Fine. The two of them robbed me, last September. Dumb motherfuckers didn’t know who they were messing with. But I let them live because the bitch was pregnant.”

Jason makes a noise of disbelief. “Oh, sure. You’re a real bleeding heart, is that it?”

“Like you’re any better,” Susie fires back.

“You said you waited on Linda because she was pregnant,” Dick says. “Why’d you wait to kill Big Mouth?”

Susie’s mouth twists. “Guess I just felt like it.” Dick doesn’t need to see the tension in her shoulders to know she’s lying.

“Strike two.” Jason clicks the safety off. “Who put the hits out?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Susie answers. “I’m dead if I talk, so pistol whip me if you want to. Here’s the God’s honest truth: I really didn’t need a reason to kill those assholes. I was out for ‘em anyways. But I’m not crazy enough to kill a baby, all right? I don’t need shit like that on my conscience.”

“Keep talking,” Jason growls. Dick hears the whoop of a siren a few blocks off. “Where’s the baby now?”

“Somewhere safe, I swear. If anybody comes for her, it won’t be me.”

Susie still thinks Danielle’s at the orphanage, then. That’s good for them, but potentially bad for all the other kids, Colin included. These guys clearly have no problem killing children, even if Susie won’t do it.

The sirens are getting closer. Someone inside must’ve called the cops. Dick motions to Jason, indicating they need to wrap things up.

“Who is coming for her,” Jason barks, every line of his body a threat. “You’ve got five seconds.”

“You don’t.” Susie looks triumphant. They can hear the shouts of police from behind the smoke. “But don’t worry, boys. You’ll find out who really runs this town soon enough.”

“Hood,” Dick mutters. “We need to go, cops in this neighborhood aren’t cape-friendly.”

Jason stands, visibly enraged, and for a moment Dick thinks he’ll shoot Susie anyways. He’s prepared to move - but then Jason pulls out his grapple, fires, and flies up onto the roof.

“Talk about a bleeding heart,” Susie says to Dick. “He have kids or something?”

Dick doesn’t like her tone of voice at all. She’s too relaxed, too unconcerned about being under arrest. She won’t stay in long.

“It’s Nightwing! Get your hands up!”

Dick obliges, ready to pull his escrima sticks.

Three police officers come through the smoke, weapons drawn. “You better have a damn good reason for being this far out of Bludhaven,” one of them shouts at Dick.

“Sure do!” Dick calls back. “Arrested a murderer for you, no need to thank me!”

“Shut up,” a different officer retorts. “Keep your hands up, pretty boy.”

“Oh, fuck this,” Jason mutters over the comm. “I’m throwing you an escape, we’ll recon on the library roof. Stop being so goddamn chatty.”

One smoke pellet later, Dick is three rooftops away and flying. He gets to the library before Jason, exhilarated as ever from a good run.

Jason drops down next to him after a minute or so, laughing when he gets a look at Dick’s smile. “Running from the cops still does it for you, huh?”

Dick elbows him, momentarily forgetting to keep his distance. “Doesn’t it for you?”

Surprisingly, Jason doesn’t move away. “Usually they’re shooting at me, so.”

Dick leans closer, testing. “So…yes?”

“You’re so annoying,” Jason says, but he lets Dick nudge his shoulder, bump their arms together. He’s so solid, Dick thinks. So big. More like Bruce than any of them.

“So, how fast do you think she’ll get out?” he asks, when Jason stays quiet.

“Fucking tomorrow, probably,” Jason sighs. “Next week if we’re lucky.”

“Sounds like she didn’t know about Danielle, at least.”

“She’s not the problem,” Jason says, shrugging Dick off and standing back up. “Falcones will blow up the whole orphanage if they get wind of it. We need to put them down first.”

“We need to find out who’s in charge,” Dick agrees. “I planted a mic on her shoe. In the laces. Hopefully she won’t find it for a few days.”

“Good thinking,” Jason nods. “You gonna keep patrolling?”

“Might as well,” Dick says, standing up next to him and stretching his arms over his head. “I’m still stiff from that stakeout, I need to move.”

Jason’s gone quiet again. Dick thinks he hears his breath catch, but the helmet muffles it enough that it could be a yawn.

“You’re going back to the manor?”

Jason groans. “Fuck my life, yes.”

“You miss her, huh.” Cute, his brain chants.

Jason doesn’t answer, but Dick has a feeling he’s getting the stink-eye.

“I miss her too,” Dick offers. “It’s okay.”

Jason sighs. “Dick…”

“It’s a good thing, Jay. You care about her! We all do,” Dick adds, seeing the rigidity in Jason’s posture. “I mean, you’re practically her parent right now. Of course you miss her.”

“...Don’t say it like that.” Jason’s voice is low, almost pained, and Dick knows he pushed too far. “Like…like I have a right to, okay, just. Don’t.”

“Jason, wait,” Dick starts, but he doesn’t get to finish. Without a backward glance, Jason fires off a line to the neighboring building, and then he’s gone.

***

(tim)

The docks are quiet, unsettlingly so, as Tim prowls around the towers of shipping containers, keeping to the deep shadows they cast along the chipped pavement. It’s overcast, so there’s no moonlight to expose him, but it’s also too dark to see which of the trucks and campers parked all over are occupied, which ones might suddenly turn their headlights on him and catch him out.

One truck in particular - an innocuous looking Isuzu with a stunningly weaponized interior, is the object of his search. The driver, Felipe, is one of Tim’s best informants within Intergang - or had been, prior to the upheaval. Tim’s reasonably sure that Felipe is too lowly a grunt to make an example of, but still, he’s concerned that he hasn’t heard from him in a few days.

As it turns out, he needn’t have worried. He finds Felipe a hundred yard away from his truck, taking a piss off the wharf. He lets himself into the passenger side of the truck, and immediately notes that it is packed. There’s hardly a spare inch in the back, and Tim has a tough time even getting into the passenger seat with all the bags, clothes, and blankets stuffed into it. He pushes the majority of it to the floor, and waits.

Felipe comes back a few moments later. He opens the door and starts, eyes going wide when he sees Tim, but Tim puts his finger to his lips and motions for Felipe to get in so they can talk.

“Red Robin,” Felipe says, once the door is closed. He looks even more shaken than usual. “What the fuck, man?”

Tim crosses his arms. “You tell me, Felipe. You’ve been dodging my calls for days, and now I find out you’re skipping town?”

“I ditched that phone, man. Boss Reynolds had my number in there, you know? Ditched it as soon as I heard about him. I wasn’t trying to ghost you, honest.”

“Relax,” Tim tells him. “I’m not mad. I’d dodge me, too. Just tell me what happened, and I’ll shadow you out of town. Make sure you’re not followed.”

“Shit, man,” Felipe sighs. “Okay, look. There’s shit I can’t tell you, not if I ever want to hench again. You gotta figure that all out yourself, yeah?”

Tim shrugs. “Fine.”

Felipe swallows. “It started last week when Boss Reynolds met with somebody - I don’t know his name, God as my witness, but from what I heard, ‘cause I was unloading some of that funky alien tech, and you know Boss Reynolds wanted to supervise that personally - anyways, this guy in a suit took a meeting with him, and it sounded like he was offering Boss Reynolds a job. Said he had a new operation, bigger than Intergang, bigger than anything Gotham’s seen in a while.”

“Did Reynolds believe him?”

“Nah, he told him to get lost. They had some words, and then everybody started pulling guns, and I went back to the ship so I didn’t get fuckin’ shot, but I didn’t hear anything after that. Next thing I saw, Boss Reynolds was calling his son up and telling him to demo some building down by the old boardwalk - a hotel, maybe. Guess he wanted to expand that way, I don’t know.”

“That was the old Falcone hotel,” Tim says, mostly just to see Felipe’s reaction. He isn’t disappointed - Felipe goes pale, and his eyes flash to the rosary hanging off his rearview mirror. Tim likes Felipe as an informant because he’s nosy, shockingly competent for a henchman, and because he really likes to gossip. He’s never held back on Tim before this.

“Few days later, one of ours, this merc named Tiberius, comes down to the warehouse and says he’s got something to show us. Takes out a fat fuckin’ folder full of pictures…man, it was some sick shit. Boss Reynolds, his wife, Reynolds Jr, and every fuckin’ guy under him. Kids, man. He just passed it around, made everyone look at it. Then he says, we can either be in the folder, or we can come meet the new boss.”

Felipe takes a shaky breath. “Obviously I go with Tiberius, like everyone else. I heard a couple guys stayed on the ship that was docked, thinking they’d wait ‘em out, but the new boss blew it up. Says we’re not in the tech business anymore, and anyone caught trying to smuggle it is gonna get tied to it and tossed in the harbor. You can imagine my concerns,” he says, gesturing to his truck. Tim estimates half or more of the weapons in it are salvaged from alien junk. Roy Harper would have a field day with the setup this guy’s made for himself.

“So that’s why you’re bailing,” Tim says, understanding. He can hardly blame the guy. “Why not just hide the truck somewhere?”

“Well…I did think about that,” Felipe admits. “Tiberius made us a pretty sweet pitch, once we went along with him. Not gonna lie, I was tempted. Tech is my thing, you know, but I can make a gun out of pretty much anything. I could see the possibilities, is what I’m saying, but that was before we met the new boss.”

Tim nods encouragingly. This is what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Listen, Red Robin - I know we’ve had our differences, but I respect you, man, you know that. You’ve been good to me, so I’m gonna give you some advice here. Stay the hell away from the new boss. Like, don’t even get involved. I’ve been henching for a while, and I’ve seen some messed up shit, but they are crazy. Está loca, you feel me? I’ve seen the hit list, and you’re right at the top of it. You and all the other capes. Half of Arkham, too. And they’re connected, like you wouldn’t believe. Shit, I’m already saying too much, man. You see the position I’m in here?”

“I do, Felipe,” Tim tells him. He hands over a stack of hundred dollar bills, their agreed-upon rate for information. “Where are you going?”

“You’re crazy too, if you think I’m telling you that,” Felipe scoffs.

Tim wasn’t expecting a straight answer anyways. “Fair enough. You heading out now?”

“Soon as you get the hell outta my car, yeah. You said you’d shadow me out?”

“I will,” Tim says. “From a distance. If you don’t see me, it means you’re clear to cross the bridge.”

“All right,” Felipe nods. “In that case, I hope I never see your ass again.”

Tim laughs, and climbs out of the truck.

He finds his own way out of the shipyard, pulls a bike out of a safe house, and catches up with Felipe’s GPS signal halfway to the Fashion District. Once he’s sure there’s no immediate threat, he calls Barbara.

“Red Robin to Oracle. I’m uploading a recording to the server.”

Barbara is in his ear at once. “You met with your informant?”

“He wouldn’t give me a name, but he let a couple things slip.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she says.

“First, he flinched hard when I brought up the Falcone name.”

“Confirms what we already know,” Barbara says. “Good. There’s more?”

“There’s more.” Tim tries not to gloat. This is, after all, a serious situation. “He was being cagey about mentioning the leader’s gender, so I was already suspicious, but then said ‘está loca’ when he was trying to warn me.”

Barbara whistles. “Well,” she says, sounding satisfied. “That’ll certainly narrow it down.”

“Yep,” Tim says grimly. “Looks like the new head of the Falcone family is a woman.”

***

(jason)

When Jason was Robin, the library had always been his favorite room in the Manor. It had spoken easily to his idea of what wealth was - rich people had fancy cars, sure, and maybe pools and expensive wardrobes, but wealthy people had art collections, and gardens, and libraries. Jason had spent hours upon hours browsing the shelves, reading anything he could wrap his brain around (and plenty of things he couldn’t), suggesting additions to Alfred, and avoiding his schoolwork in favor of learning about more interesting things, like string theory, or cryptology, or chemical warfare.

That was then.

Now, the library is the only place he can get a minute of peace from the constant barrage of his obnoxious, nosy, boundaryless family members. They’ve been characteristically persistent in their curiosity about him, and about Danielle, who is now Dani, courtesy of Stephanie. This is a nickname family, she’d said, and Jason hadn’t known how to disagree. So now she’s Dani, and Jason is family, and that apparently means he is no longer entitled to any privacy, or personal space for that matter. The only person who hasn’t barged in on him is Bruce, which is almost worse, in a way, because it’s one thing when nobody seeks him out, and it’s quite another when everyone does and then Bruce...doesn’t. Not that he wants Bruce to come up and bother him, God. But he’s in the man’s house, he’s hearing him on the comm constantly either on patrol or down in the cave, and all the other Bat brats and even Alfred are buzzing around him like flies. It’s too much - it feels like before, except for Bruce’s conspicuous absence reminding him that it’s not.

Sharing a bathroom with Dick is another before experience that Jason didn’t need a repeat of. In some ways, it was worse when he was Robin - stripping and showering after patrol in the cave with Dick a few feet away from him is a memory he really wouldn’t have minded leaving back in the Pit - and in other ways, it’s worse now, because Dick is always freaking around. There’s no reprieve, he’s not flitting off to the Titans every week like he used to be. Jason hasn’t gone half a day without Dick getting in his space, drawing up close to him and making that earnest eye contact he’s so annoyingly good at; sometimes wet, sometimes half-naked, sometimes both. And what can Jason do? He’s not going to leave Dani, and he needs Dick to be there so he can get some sleep every once in a while, or patrol, or shower. It’s actually been pretty helpful to have him around, in that regard, but if he has to see the guy walking around with bedhead and nothing but a pair of boxer briefs on one more time, he’s going to fucking explode.

So, the library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to Dani. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for Dani one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

He wonders, not for the first time, what exactly he thinks he’s doing, playing at this whole parenting thing. The rational part of his brain knows that this is a case, that Dani is a victim, that Jason is protecting her because it’s his job. The emotional part of his brain has gone completely off the goddamn rails. Case in point: he’s here with her in the library, prepping her for early literacy like some kind of Crest Hill soccer mom wannabe. Like he’ll even be in her life when she starts doing her ABCs - God willing, she’ll be as far away from him as possible by the time that happens.

It’s fucking hard to think about. He never thought he’d get this attached to a person who can’t even burp on their own. It’s been over a week, and he still struggles with putting her down, with stepping away from her, even when he knows he’s coming right back. Steph and Damian have been wanting to hold her all the time, and Jason knows that they’re capable, knows he has no claim over Dani, doesn’t even mind either of them all that much under normal circumstances, and still, he can’t help feeling like something has reached inside and gripped at his heart every time he passes her over. Which is ridiculous, because she’s not his, he has no more claim over her than any other schmuck off the street. She’s just a kid with unbelievably bad luck, and he’s the idiot who followed Dick up the stairs instead of booking it out the door like a sensible person.

He settles down with her on the couch, propping her up on a couple of pillows, giving her foot a little squeeze. She squeals, smiling at him, and stuffs her fingers in her mouth. God, Jason didn’t know he could feel the way he feels whenever she smiles at him. It’s gonna kill him when he has to give her up.

“If music be the food of love, play on,” he reads, walking his fingers up her leg. “Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.”

Dani watches him, chewing happily on her fingers. “‘O, it came over my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets.’ That’s you, you know.” He pokes her in the cheek, grinning. If music be the food of love…but hell, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. Especially when she’s all calm and engaging, the precious few minutes that he’s learned to appreciate in between finishing eating and being tired and cranky, when all she wants to do is look around at things, and all Jason wants to do, ever, is look at her.

The door to the library opens, and Jason goes from content to murderous in a fraction of a second. “What the fuck is it now,” he hisses, expecting Damian or maybe Tim, coming to nag him some more, and instead sees Damian’s friend Colin, who looks horrified to have intruded on him. Jason immediately feels like the world’s biggest ass.

“Sorry,” Colin whispers, mortified, and Jason waves a hand apologetically.

“My bad, I didn’t know it was you. Come in, it’s fine. She’s awake, you don’t need to whisper.”

Colin looks unsure, but soon nods and steps into the library, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Once inside, he dawdles by the nearest bookshelf, clearly at a loss. Jason probably should’ve just let him back out, because this is awkward. Should he keep reading to Dani? Talk to Colin? Ask him why he looks like someone just kicked him and stole his dog?

“You good?” he ventures, figuring he ought to at least attempt to be the adult in the room.

Colin glances at him over his shoulder, smiling tentatively. “Yeah, just bored. Damian’s sleeping, we had a rough patrol last night.”

“We?” Jason repeats, stunned. Bruce isn’t an exemplar of child welfare practices, sure, but letting Damian take other kids on crime-busting playdates? What the hell?

“Oh, I guess you don’t know,” Colin frowns. “I’m….uh, it’s probably easier if I just show you.”

He slides his jacket off, threadbare t-shirt hanging off his skinny frame. Jason tenses, not sure what to expect. When Colin’s arm starts to expand, his eyes widen. By the time his fist is as big around as Jason’s thigh, he thinks his eyebrows have probably disappeared into his hairline.

“Oh.” Jason has no idea how he’s supposed to react to this. Is Colin a meta? He’s pretty sure he would know if Colin was a meta. “How…?”

“Scarecrow,” Colin explains. Jason’s heart sinks. “He experimented on me with synthetic Venom. Batman saved me.”

Dani fusses, twisting her body and scrunching her face up. Jason sympathizes - this conversation is giving him gas, too. “Shit,” he says. Not the most articulate way of expressing his condolences, but Colin’s friends with Damian, so tact can’t be of great importance to him. “I didn’t know.”

Dani starts to cry, and Colin takes a couple steps forward, putting Jason’s hackles up at once. Stop it, he tells himself sternly. He might have fallen down a few pegs, but he’s not pathetic enough to square up against an abused fifth grader. He picks her up, rubbing her back, and then glances over at Colin. The kid’s gone shy, looking down at a point somewhere between Jason’s legs and the floor. Jason feels all the hostility bleed out of him, and he sighs.

“You can sit down.” He gestures to the couch, trying to sound nonthreatening. Dani burps, mouths at his shirt, and then gurgles and kicks her legs again. She leans back against his hold to stare at Colin, and Colin’s face splits into a huge grin. He tucks himself down into the cushions, keeping plenty of space between them, but Jason can sense from the inclination of his body that he wants to be closer. Well, if anyone has a right to be close to Dani, it’s the kid who rescued her in the first place.

“Here,” he offers, turning Dani around in his arms. His heart clenches, and he clamps down on his desire to flee. “You can hold her for a minute, if you want to. She likes you.”

Colin looks at him, eyes shining. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Go ahead. Honestly, you probably know a lot more about this shit than I do.”

Colin takes Dani from him carefully, smiling at her and laughing when she reaches forward to grab at his jacket zipper. A few seconds later, it’s in her mouth, along with most of her fist.

“Should I…?” Colin looks at Jason hesitantly.

“I mean…she’s had worse things in her mouth,” Jason tells him. A ringing endorsement of his child-minding abilities right there. “It’s fine, right? That’s how they build an immune system, or whatever.”

“Well, Alfred washed this for me last night,” Colin admits, looking embarrassed. “So it shouldn’t be too gross.”

Jason leans back against the couch cushions, crossing his arms. “Getting all the perks, huh?”

Colin shrugs, casting his eyes down again. “I like it here.”

Considering where Colin grew up, Jason supposes he can’t blame the kid. Still, he’s not quite wrapping his head around this sweet, genuinely nice kid being buddies with Damian. The demon brat isn’t exactly known for his winning personality, and Jason only knows vaguely how the two of them met, but what he’s heard doesn’t strike him as being particularly conducive to forging the lasting bonds of friendship.

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to just ask. “Why’d you call Damian, the night you found her?”

Colin looks surprised. “I...don’t know,” he says, slowly. “I didn’t know who else to call? Damian’s my best friend, and he always knows what to do.”

Jason can’t keep the skeptical look off his face.

“And if he doesn’t, Bat….Bruce, I mean, definitely always knows what to do.”

Jason scrubs a hand over his face. Time to change the fucking subject. “How’d you two get hooked up, anyways?”

Dani turns her head to look at him, still eating Colin’s zipper. Sometimes, Jason gets the bizarre feeling that she can somehow tell when he’s about to blow a gasket. It’s probably a coincidence - she moves around a lot, and Jason has anger issues that flare up every ten minutes, so there’s bound to be some crossover - but it works, because it takes the fight right out of him every time.

“We worked a case together,” Colin says, holding Dani a little more securely against him. “About a year ago, I guess. Kids were disappearing from my orphanage, and from the shelters. I don’t think you were around.”

“I wasn’t,” Jason shakes his head. He and Roy had been busting a trafficking ring in Ibiza, and it had taken Jason over a month to get all the major players. “I heard about it a little, from Dick.”

Dick hadn’t given him too many details at the time - Jason had chalked it up to him having a few other things on his mind, but as Colin fills in the gaps, he starts to suspect Dick just didn’t want him going on a rampage. Which he absolutely would have - he still wants to, God. God. All those poor kids, just a stone’s throw from his old neighborhood. And of course the police had done jack shit - Zsasz is practically Black Mask’s pet, he probably paid them off to look the other way, not that most of them need the excuse - and Bruce was gone, and Jason was gone, and Dick was in over his head, and - fuck, it should never have fallen to Damian and Colin.

He waits for the fury to subside a little, not trusting what will come out of his mouth. Dani hums around her fist, blinking at him, and it helps. “Jesus,” he says, finally. “This fucking town.”

Colin’s mouth twists a little. “Yeah. But you were Robin, right? You probably saw worse things.”

Did he? Jason doesn’t remember. He doubts it, though. He can’t imagine he would’ve been satisfied with Bruce’s way of dealing with it.

“I wouldn’t have pulled my stroke, when I was Robin,” he muses. “Probably why Bruce never gave me a sword.”

No, Jason would’ve bisected the fucker. It still has appeal, though he thinks he would lean towards his favorite Sig rifle if he was taking care of it today. Headshots for the henchmen - anyone who signs on to that kind of operation, even in the most menial capacity, doesn’t deserve to breathe. Kneecaps and crotch shots for the spectators, to make sure they couldn’t get away. Gut shots for the kid-wranglers. And Zsasz....it’s tempting to want to draw it out, but Jason can feel the desire leaving him the longer he thinks about it. His imaginative tortures fade into a simple headshot, and even that isn’t satisfying. Fuck. He just can’t seem to hold onto his rage lately, even when he wants to. It’s all being replaced by some kind of anxiety, some kind of tenderness that aches, burning deep into him every time Dani looks at him, or touches him. Every time he thinks of her. Every time he feels Dick watching him with her, all warmth and affection.

Colin bounces her a little, making her laugh. Jason feels his revenge fantasy slip away.

“What’re you reading her?” Colin nods to the book still laying open in Jason’s lap.

Jason looks at it. “Oh, Twelfth Night. Shakespeare,” he adds, recalling that Colin is eleven, and likely not perusing great literature in his free time. “Figure it’s never too early to start her on the classics.”

Colin grins. “That’s cool,” he says. “Does she like it?”

“Beats me,” Jason shrugs.

“Read some?”

Jason raises his eyebrows.

Colin flushes. “Um. I mean, if you want…”

He decides to humor him. What the hell. “Sure, why not. ‘O spirit of love! How quick and fresh art thou, that, notwithstanding in thy capacity, receiveth as the sea.’”

Dani yawns widely, relinquishing her fist in a long string of drool. Jason laughs, and so does Colin. “Maybe jumping the gun a little,” he admits. “I don’t really know what kids are into these days.”

“Me either,” Colin says. “I think she liked it, though. See, she’s just sleepy.”

Jason feels a lump forming in his throat, and swallows hard against it.

“What does it mean? The part you were reading,” Colin asks.

“Um.” Jason doesn’t really know, he’s not exactly a literary scholar, but he’s always liked to work Shakespeare out on his own, finding meaning in the wordplay and running the metaphors through his mind until they line up in a satisfactory way. He doesn’t know if his interpretation is correct, exactly, but: “So this Duke, a guy called Orsino, is saying that he doesn’t want to be in love anymore. He’s talking about love and how everyone thinks it’s this wonderful thing, but the truth is that it actually just makes people miserable.”

Jason pauses, feeling like he just showed way too much of his hand. “Basically, he’s just complaining,” he finishes, uneasy.

Glancing at Colin out of the corner of his eye, he’s relieved to see that he’s occupied with Dani, and not paying attention to Jason at all. Thank fuck. If it’d been anyone else in the house sitting there, he’d be in for some horrible armchair psychology session, and he’d have to book it out the window and not return for several months.

“I think she wants you,” Colin says, as Dani ramps up her fussing. Jason takes her gratefully, holds her to his chest as she rubs her eyes and grumbles her displeasure at being passed around.

“All right, I hear you,” Jason murmurs, gently tugging her fists away from her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, come on. It’s not so bad.” Like he’s one to talk.

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, ever since pursue me, he thinks, rocking her tiny body into a comfortable position. Colin was only holding her for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and Jason was sitting less than five feet away, but he missed her. God, what is happening to him?

“Damian didn’t want to bring her here, at first,” Colin says quietly. “But I think he’s glad that we did. He really likes her, you know.”

Jason doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. It’s sweet, on some level. And he’s well aware that Damian likes her, going by the amount of time he spends hovering in the hallway outside Jason’s room, not to mention the increasingly expensive toys that keep showing up among her things.

He looks down at her, dozing off. “Well, she’s pretty easy to like.”

Colin nods, looking pleased.

“Damian, on the other hand....”

Colin grins. “He’s not so bad.”

He’s really not. Like hell Jason will ever tell him that, though. “You have bizarre taste, kid.”

Colin blushes, hard, and Jason blinks. Well. That’s interesting, isn’t it? Or it will be, in a few years. He makes a note to ask Dick about it, later.

“Are you gonna adopt her?” Colin asks, bringing Jason’s amused thoughts to a screeching halt.

Automatically, he says, “No way.”

Colin looks wounded. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t,” Jason replies. “I’m the last person who should be a parent, trust me.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me.”

Doesn’t feel that way either - the thought floats up, unbidden, uninvited. He can’t. “She deserves better,” Jason says, heavily. “Even if….even I could handle it. She deserves better than this family.”

“But your family is - ”

“A death sentence.” He’s being harsh, but if Colin’s gonna be hanging around, he’ll find out for himself soon enough. “It’s fucking cursed, look. I couldn’t do that to any kid, especially her. You should get out too, while you still can.”

Colin looks angry, which surprises him. His hands are balled into fists, and Jason sees a tremor in them, a bulging that immediately sets off alarm bells in his head.

“Kid,” he says sharply. “Colin. If you’re gonna hulk out, take it outside. Alfred will have an honest-to-God stroke if you do it in here.”

A few deep breaths later, Colin looks normal again. “Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. “You’re wrong, though.”

Jason’s temper flares. “No offense, but I think I would know better than you,” he snaps. Dani grumbles sleepily in his arms, and he sighs out in frustration. “Trust me, okay? She’s better off. It never ends well, not in this family. I’m proof of that.”

But Colin shakes his head. “You don’t know,” he says. “My mom said the same thing, when she dropped me off at the orphanage. She gave the nuns a letter - she said I’d be better off with them than with her.”

Jason stills.

“It didn’t matter,” Colin continues. “Scarecrow still got me. Victor Zsasz still got me. Maybe they would have gotten me with her, too. Maybe I wouldn’t have been that much better off with her, but at least I would’ve been with her.” He sniffles, and Jason holds Dani a little tighter.

“I know she loved me.” His voice cracks. “I just wish...I wish I could’ve stayed with her. I wish she would have known that I never would’ve been better off away from her.”

He looks absolutely miserable, pitched forward and rubbing hard at his eyes. Jason is reminded painfully of how young Colin is, closer to Dani’s age than his own. He remembers being Colin’s age and younger, thinking the same thoughts about his own mother. How fiercely he’d guarded her, chased away the cops and the social workers, doing everything in his power not to be separated from her. Not that it mattered, in the end.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Colin, I’m sorry. For the record, I actually kind of get where you’re coming from.”

Colin looks up at him.

“Wish I didn’t, but. That’s life.”

“You should adopt her,” Colin says again, softly.

Jason shakes his head. “Colin…”

“You’ll think about it.”

He exhales. “Sure, I’ll think about it.” Like he’ll be able to think about anything else after this.

“She needs you,” Colin insists stubbornly.

Jason doesn’t reply. He knows on some level Colin is right - Dani does need him right now. She needs someone, at least, someone who can take care of her and protect her. Someone who isn’t afraid to shed blood to keep her safe. Jason doesn’t relish the thought, but he’s certain this won’t end tidily. Mob cases never do. It’ll be messy, and bloody, and Bruce will have a shit fit, and Dick probably will too, and Jason will go back to Crime Alley and Dani will get shipped off to Witness Protection or something, and damn, does that hurt to think about.

He looks over at Colin, still hunched over on himself, vulnerability written into every line of his posture. He’s desperately in need of a hug, or some kind of affection, validation, maybe. Or that’s just Jason projecting, who the fuck knows. If Dick was here, he would know exactly what to do for him. Jason’s at a loss, unable to separate his young self from the damaged kid sitting next to him.

He adjusts his hold on Dani carefully, laying her down flat along his arm, while he works out what to say. Finally, he settles on, “Damian’s lucky to have you.”

Colin sits up a little straighter. He looks like he’s waiting for more, but he’s shit out of luck, because Jason has no idea what else he needs to hear. No idea what he could say that wouldn’t be completely insincere, anyways. We can be your family, Colin. Like hell. Bruce has enough kids lined up waiting to die for him, he’s not about to encourage another one to be turned into cannon fodder for the man’s principles.

“Uh, yeah,” Jason says, after a moment. “That’s all I got.”

Colin smiles wanly. “Thanks, anyways.”

Jason snorts. “Sure.”

“Can I hug you?”

Jason stares. “Can you…what? Me?”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Colin adds, averting his eyes.

Jason can’t even remember the last time someone hugged him. He thinks Roy might’ve, some eight or nine months ago, after they’d narrowly survived a warehouse explosion. Jason’s whole body had been ringing from the blast, so he doesn’t exactly remember the sensation of it. And before that…?

He imagines Dick’s reaction, if he was here. He’d be disappointed in Jason, that’s for sure. Really, Jay? You can’t hug a child? It’s a fair argument, he has to admit. Jason’s fucked up personal space issues don’t really apply to children, or babies, clearly. Colin’s obviously attention-starved, and Jason’s already holding one kid. What’s another, really.

“Okay,” he relents. “Hit me.”

There’s a shuffling motion next to him, and then Colin is hugging his free arm, leaning his head against Jason’s shoulder. Jason can’t quite contain his surprise - it’s weird, as expected, but it’s not dramatically increasing his desire to bolt through the nearest exit like he’d thought it would. It’s a little funny, actually. He’s pretty sure both Bruce and Damian would lose their shit if they could see him right now. Dick, too, most likely, but to his credit, it would be a happy kind of shit-losing. Damian would probably try to gut him.

Are there cameras in the library? Jason can’t remember. He kind of hopes there aren’t, because if anyone else sees this, he will absolutely never live it down.

***

(dick)

“Wait, I think that’s him.” Dick leans forward to peer at Tim’s screen. He points to the familiar looking figure. “That guy. Do you have a clearer shot?”

Tim skips a few photos ahead, and zooms in. “Him?”

“Yes. That’s the guy. Jason said he recognized him from your surveillance files. He was at the club the night we caught Susie Falcone.”

“The fourth night, was it?” Tim asks, innocently.

“Don’t be mean, Timmy.”

“Just clarifying,” Tim grins. Dick raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay. I don’t have a ton of intel on this guy, he’s really slippery. According to my informant, he goes by Tiberius - some kind of mercenary, Greek or Albanian national. I doubt that’s his real name.”

Dick nods, studying the photographs. Tim continues, “He came over with Intergang as an enforcer, I think. Might’ve been Reynolds��� personal bodyguard.”

“Could explain how Reynolds got taken out,” Dick says thoughtfully. “He’s on the Falcones’ payroll now, but he’s not family. Might be an easy target.”

Tim opens his mouth, about to reply, when there’s a choked-off sound of fury from the Batcave below them.

“Was that Damian? He’s up already?” Dick asks, glancing down towards Bruce’s computer. He hops over the ramp to see what the fuss is about. Tim follows close behind.

“Everything okay?” Dick asks, approaching the wall of screens. There’s nothing that jumps out at him as being particularly alarming; Bruce is looking at DNA analyses, and Damian is looking at the Manor surveillance, tapping furiously at his ear.

“Todd!” he hisses. “What do you think you’re doing? Colin is my friend!”

“Robin,” Oracle’s voice comes through the speaker. “No names on the comms. And Hood isn’t wearing his earpiece, so you’ll have to tell him in person.” She sounds amused. “Oracle out.”

Damian swears.

“Holy shit,” Tim says faintly. “Look at them.”

The screen that all the Manor surveillance feeds run to is showing just one room - the library, of all places, but Dick vaguely recalls it being some kind of sanctuary to Jason, years and years ago. It makes sense that he’d end up back there, and it makes sense that he’d have Dani with him. What Dick doesn’t expect to see is little Colin Wilkes, all five feet and change of him, snuggled up to Jason’s side and hugging him, wrapped around his arm like a gangly koala. Dick can’t help but notice that Jason’s bicep is about as big around as Colin’s head, which is certainly...something. He’s not quite ready to classify how he feels about that, so he refocuses on the hug itself, which is nothing short of charming.

Damian grinds his teeth audibly. “It’s still going.”

“Oh, man.” Dick can’t help the grin he feels creeping up the sides of his face. “Bruce, are you seeing this?”

“I am,” Bruce says, stiffly. He looks like he’s in pain. Dick fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you? Look how sweet they are!” he exclaims, gesturing. It’s adorable.

“It is not sweet,” Damian snarls, whirling on him. “Todd is a corruptive influence, and Colin is young and impressionable! Where is your concern for him?”

Tim coughs, and it sounds a little bit like “jealous”. Surprisingly, this does not diffuse Damian’s indignation.

“I don’t get it,” Dick says, stepping between them quickly to block Damian’s spinning kick. “I thought you and Jason were fine, Damian. You’ve been spending enough time in our - in his room lately. Where’s this coming from?”

“Incredibly, I don’t feel as concerned about Todd recruiting an infant onto the path of lawlessness,” Damian retorts. “Colin lacks paternal guidance in his life, as you know. Todd clearly senses it.”

“Jason is very paternal these days,” Tim agrees.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a hug,” Dick says in exasperation. “No one’s recruiting anyone, Damian. And look, it’s over. Your friend is just a hugger, that’s all.”

“I must agree with Master Richard,” Alfred says from behind them. “Having been the recipient of many such embraces from young Master Colin myself.”

“See? I’ve gotten hugs from him too,” Dick tells Damian. “And I know you have, so don’t bother denying it. He’s probably gearing up the courage to get one from Bruce one of these days.”

Bruce looks slightly alarmed by the prospect. “He is?”

Damian looks conflicted. “He is?”

Dick casts his eyes heavenward. “Colin, I’m so sorry.”

Before he can say anything else, the Cave door opens below them, and Duke’s bike comes shooting in, whipping around into its parking spot in a move that would send Dick flying over the handlebars. Bruce takes about half a second to look impressed, and then clears the main screen to pull up their intel on the Falcone case.

“What’s up, guys,” Duke calls, pulling off his helmet and jogging up the steps. “I’ve got news. Where’s Jason?”

“Being hugged, in the library,” Dick tells him. “You just missed it.”

Duke looks nonplussed. “Damn. Wait, that’s not some kind of weird euphemism, is it? If it is, I don’t want to know.”

“It most certainly is not,” Damian says venomously.

“Cool. I tried to get him on the comm, but he didn’t respond. Should I go get him? He’ll want to hear this.”

“Damian will get him,” Bruce says.

Damian is…already on the elevator. Dick spares a thought for Jason. At least he’s holding Dani, so Damian won’t attack him outright.

“Your news?” Bruce prompts.

“Right,” Duke nods. “I’ve been all over City Hall records, and spent yesterday afternoon getting intel in the East End. I’ve got names and faces of most of the major players in this. They’re trying hard to front some distant nephew of Carmine Falcone as the head of the whole operation, but it wasn’t quite adding up. You said the new Falcone boss is a woman, right?” he asks Tim.

Tim nods affirmatively.

Duke looks triumphant. “Then I know who she is.”

***

[curious-menace]

Can you do Arkham Knight!Riddler and s/o start a new life together (after the Arkham Knight event)? They got married in Gotham, live in a new house together and have children of their own

Oh boy this is very out of my are of expertise but I'll do my best chief!

Riddler x New life s/o

so i don't know what sort of deal, what sort of pact with the devil ( or amanda waller...same thing) his s/o had to pull to get riddler out of jail after the stunt he just pulled but he is GRATEFUL. Maybe catwoman blowing up his factory killed any evidence they had, maybe they just couldn't charge him with anything ( like he kidnapped a criminal and she doesn't even want to press charges.) at any rate, he’s just happy to see you after all that. it was a LONG night. he’s not going to forget what they’ve done for him 

its not so much he WANTS to stay in gotham. He was let out with a stern warning and a heavy fine for all his wall painting around the city, littering fines for leaving paint cans and broken robots everywhere , so he CAN'T leave. But then he sees how attached they are to this place and decides against. after ignoring them all this time in favor of batman, its only fair that they get what they want for a change. 

his s/o graciously let him stay with them in their apartment before but now he’s homeless he’ll have to stay there full time. Its not long before it starts to feel cramped. His s/o has been looking at a nice little town house in gotham. it would be perfect for the two of them...and maybe some kids? a nice yard for the dog? 

i don't imagine them having a wedding. i imagine its just a city hall officiation kind of thing. Like at this point they’ve been together so long its like you’re already married. After what catwoman did he had no money and for the sake of his s/o, he tried to behave himself so he hasn't really gotten any of it back. He did spend what little he had on a ring for them. A question mark shaped thing with a green stone in their prefered metal.

He’s pretty resistant to the idea of kids. He WOULD like some but like...what if they don't like him? what if he’s as bad a parent as his dad? do they adopt? try for their own? he has too many questions to just jump in and say yes. I think he will cave eventually but this starts up some of its own problems.

for one, Edward is one of those people who needs to feel manly. yet another psychological injury from his father. He puts up a LOT of resistance at the notion of being a stay at home dad  but his s/o has a decent job. more than enough for a family. It doesn't make sense for him to be out working or committing crimes if he could be with the child

Secondly, if his s/o is the one who would be pregnant, he would be INCREDIBLY fussy over them for the whole 9 months. like won't let them lift a finger, buys HUNDREDS of pregnancy and child care books insists on only the finest food and water when really all they want is some soda and a peanut butter pickle sandwich.

and of course when his s/o goes into labor he panics more than they do. Oh well. at least it will be a funny story to tell the child when they're older. 

there ya go blue! ima be honest the whole idea of domestic life, marriage and especially pregnancy freaks me the fuck out so this was a CHALLENGE. but i suppose if you don't challenge yourself as a writer you’ll never improve! 

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

[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.

[regrettablewritings]

If requests are still open, could you do the love one w Bruce Wayne please??

Sure, they’re still open, and I can most certainly try! Though I must admit that quite a few of these headcanons have actually been mentioned or featured in separate sets I've done throughout the years. While some aspects may have changed since then, not much really feels like it's changed to me. As such, I'll try my best to answers these, but will also provide links that go into further detail. Hope that's alright!!

Who said “I love you” first?: You say it first, though the effort to do so makes you nervous. After all, you weren’t even sure if Bruce returned your feelings: Certainly, you were his longest-lasting and seemingly the most engaging relationship he’d had to the date, but you were most certainly not the first girl he’d brought home or shared some interesting experiences with. You wanted to trust that Bruce did hold some feelings for you deep down beneath that stoic and calm exterior, but some part of you worried: Maybe you were a passing phase of some kind? In actuality, no, you were definitely someone special. The problem (if it could be called that) was that Bruce just doesn’t use the phrase, “I love you” so lightly, much less often: If he’s going to use it, he wants it to really stand out and mean something. It therefore calms your nerves a great deal once he finally does it in the quiet of your home, just as you’re both about to depart for your respective work days. Suffice to say, your day is absolutely made, knowing that by the end of it, you’ll be going back to the home of someone who you can confirm, without a doubt, loves you.

What are their primary love languages?: Bruce enjoys physical touch, but not quite for the reasons people think he does. Being touch starved resulted in him seeking the hold of someone -- anyone -- in far too many cases of desperation. And sadly, it’s resulted in a lot of heartbreak and manipulation.But what makes it all so different when it comes from you is that you don’t take advantage of him by playing to his needs; you just provide the hugs and kisses because you actually want to. You’d really be surprised how many strings were attached to Bruce’s past instances of spooning, or how many threats lingered in the lipstick stains on his cheeks. There’s nothing so malicious in yours. Only ever desire or good will. And for this, you tend to be rewarded with Bruce’s zeal for giving gifts. Well, not so much zeal as it is how he feels he can best present you how much he cares. It took a bit of time (much to his embarrassment [world’s greatest detective his ass]) but eventually he did realize that it wasn’t necessarily material and superficial goods you sought after: It was in little things like small gestures of his love for you, or in the kitschy post cards he would sometimes send you with codes littered on them. Little unique items, wrapped or postmarked with his heart, destined only for your ownership.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Not very often, at least not any extensively intense PDA. Sure, you’ll hold hands while in public, or he’ll place a hand at your waist as you attend a gala together. But despite Bruce loving physical touch, this doesn’t mean he wants to over-do it, much less in a way that might make you feel uncomfortable. Besides, anyone can share a kiss. But only someone he truly trusts can share a touch that sticks with him. When you’re at home, he’s not adverse to you joining him in his study and keeping him company as he looks over files both for Wayne Enterprises, and for Batman-oriented content. There have been plenty times where you’ve fallen asleep against his chest, his arm wrapped about your waist so that you won’t fall over.

What are their favorite things to do together?: It depends. Date nights are actually a bit more difficult for the two of you than the average billionaire’s, mainly because the average billionaire doesn’t also double as a vigilante. You’ve managed to do some more typical things like go to events that support the arts like operas or the ballet. Other times, you try to keep it decidedly lowkey -- though it’s a bit hard to do a lowkey paint-and-sip when all the people around you are either sneaking photos of your boyfriend, or eyeballing him because, hey, he’s far prettier than whatever subject the group was set to paint. But sometimes, these things can prove to be a headache: Because where there aren’t regular nosy civilians, there are the even nosier paparazzi. So when the time permits it, the two of you might rent out a place like the museum or a restaurant and just enjoy yourselves. But ultimately, not everything can beat just spending the night in, catching up on one another’s week or just plain resting. Snuggled up together, of course.

Who’s better at comforting the other?: You are, even though you may not always think so. You would think that cheering up or comforting the man who has everything would be a tough job, but the reality is that it really isn’t if you actually make an effort. To be quite frank, sometimes the fact that you made an effort at all is enough to lift his spirits even by 1%. You may have your doubts about the extent to which your attempts work but the truth is that when Bruce so much as smirks in your direction, you’ve done a damn good job. You worked for that smirk; own it. Bruce just simply isn’t the world’s most emotive person, even in private. But that doesn’t mean you should be so quick as to doubt your competency. Talk to him; hug him; rub his back consolingly; tell him an awful joke. He’ll appreciate you for it.

Who’s more protective?: Bruce is. The deaths of his parents kickstarted his protective streak in some form, and it’s really only evolved since then due to various incidents (including but surprisingly not limited to the Kryptonian Attack). And as dreamy as it can be, knowing that you’ll always have the protection of this massive wall of a man and his arsenal of weaponry and physical attacks, it needs to be taken with a grain of salt: Bruce can and has gone off the deep end, becoming overzealous to the near point of destruction. If he fears a threat may be directed at you or will effect any of his loved ones, there is very little that will stop him from going on the attack and sparing no expense.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: Physical. Now that he’s aware of how much meaning and care can actually be packed into a single touch, Bruce seeks yours out. In addition, he doesn’t mind being able to return the favor by even just holding your hand and rubbing it with his calloused thumb.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: Ironically, “Aquaman” by Walk the Moon comes to mind. It’s not that Bruce is incapable of expressing or experiencing love: It’s more like occurrences both romantic and non-romantic have resulted in him becoming protective of his heart and increasingly reluctant to be even 90% open and vulnerable. (Remember: The two most frequent examples from his love life are women who ultimately used him or manipulated him in some way, so who could really blame him?) But you’ve been almost saintly patient with him, holding his hand the entire way not to be condescending or even pull him along, but to guide him and show him your constant support of his efforts and progress. And lo, the Crown Prince of Gotham eventually let his head underwater: And he can breathe there. He wasn’t wrong to be afraid of going in -- he just needed the right swimming partner. But for something more in-universe, look no further than a few jazz standards because fun fact: Bruce is actually a talented singer. No, seriously. He’s a crooner! And next to nobody knows about it because he makes a constant effort to hide it. Hell, even you didn’t know about it until the day he slipped up. And you had the addicting voice of the late and great Ella Fitzgerald to thank. Not even the world’s greatest detective could refuse her crisp yet calming voice, allowing her rendition of “These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)” to take up space in his ears and head until he could no longer bear it: Without even noticing it, he was singing it quietly as he fumbled around in the kitchen, fixing himself some coffee. He nearly dropped the mug when he turned around and saw you wearing a stunned expression on your face. And ever since then, Bruce singing jazz has become a lot more common in the house than ever before. When you’re upset, you might ask for him to sing. You need to sleep, you listen to a recording of him you sneaked. And sometimes, you just want to hear him sing: Of trips to romantic places, of candle lights on little corner tables, of two lovers who walk on the streets like dreamers . . . The foolish things that remind him of you.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: Bruce isn’t exactly the most creative when it comes to nicknames. A lot just don’t sound quite right coming out of his mouth, at least to him, especially since he’s aged up some since his more notorious playboy days. “Babe” or “Honey” have always been a part of his repertoire, but he’s noticed that “Darlin’“ and “Sweetheart” seem to flow a lot more smoothly with time. You, on the other hand, at least try to be more personal and creative. But it’s a lot harder than it seems, given that Bruce isn’t exactly the easiest name to derive nicknames from. Of course, you stumble your way to cheesy ones like “Prince Charming” or “Handsome”, but you always find yourself crawling back to throwing “Babe” and “Sweetie” right back at him.

Thank you for the request!