#or going back and having tim even if it means a boomerang in the chest again

[scintillyyy]

hmmm i think to me. i do, on a completely logical level, understand and appreciate the read on the drakes where they had a kid out of obligation/because it's considered the done thing for heterosexual couples. it definitely fits with the fact that they did prioritize their own work, desires, and interests over the presence and hard work needed to raising a child.

but mmm in my opinion i don't personally think the obligation angle is like. quite it. as far as i see them. like idk. i definitely think that they were ill-equipped to handle the full responsibilities of parenthood and did make choices that prioritized not inconveniencing what they wanted to do and were ultimately *unskilled* in parenting but to me that in no way to me means that they wouldn't have not chosen to have tim at all with a more accepting heterosexual culture of not having kids. you can tell in the fact that jack, while often failing at the burdens of parenthood, is shown quite often to believe that tim is the best thing that ever happened to him. you can tell in batman #134 where alternate janet expresses great joy that she is alive to meet an alternate version of her son that she is extremely grateful for tim's existence.

and while often regretful parents still do find their children's existence at least worthy, that's genuinely not the vibe i get from the drakes. the drakes have genuine joy in their son's very existence and it's shown quite often how happy they are he's their son. they struggled a lot and did end up failing to fit him into their lives, but at the same time their time is also littered with them trying to fit him into their lives at least a little. tim even says that most parents wouldn't take their kids to the things like the art galleries and operas but his parents took him. i'm not saying that this makes them parents of the year, but these activities normally being something you'd get a babysitter for and them wanting to take tim with them instead indicates to me that they did want to fit him into their lives, they just also struggled a lot to do so. so i think that to reduce it to "they had a kid because society tells you to have kids -> they then didn't actually want to raise said kid" makes sense as something that does happen but i do think that to me. the drakes are a little bit more nuanced than that in their motivations. parenthood, even for the best prepared, is a fundamental upheaval to your life that you might think you're prepared for and then it turns out you're not because of how much it changes your life. you can want something a lot and then ultimately not be able to handle the responsibilities. but that falls under "should the drakes have had a kid/wanted to have a kid knowing they wouldn't be able to handle the struggles that come with the actuality of having one" which is a fundamentally different question of "did they drakes want to have kids or were the obligated to have one". and the drakes probably didn't know they wouldn't be that good at parenting! or that they wouldn't be able to handle it! truly parenting is one of those things where even with all the prep in the world, you truly have no way of knowing how you'll end up until after you've become a parent. so of course they would *want* to have kids. most people who choose to have kids do so thinking they can handle it and wanting it. and it's unfortunate when that ends up not being the case, but it's not so easy as only people who are going to be good at it, do it. that's the inherent tragedy of the drakes, to me. that they wanted tim more than anything in the world. if they went back in time they'd choose to have him again and again and again in any universe. they wouldn't make a different choice at all, if it means tim gets to exist. but that doesn't translate to them being able to handle parenting or beind good or effective at it. and that's the tragedy of their relationship imo. that they will choose him but will ultimately hurt him in that choice of him because of their imperfectness and inability to change themselves for him, who they want so dearly. idk for me the concept of "want" is separate from their capabilities to change for that want. and that's why i don't necessarily see it as an obligation on their part. they'd 100% do it all over again, have him again, have a shitty marriage together, if it means that tim gets a chance to grow into the wonderful person they clearly think he is.

and i always say that we never know the drakes before the circus narratively dooms them. their time at the circus before the deaths of the flying graysons show a normal family who is happy to spend time with each other. the only time we actually see them is after they have been broken beyond repair by the narrative. in fact, in a world without young justice, a universe where tim doesn't become robin and dick grayson doesn't seem to exist ergo they never went to the circus, jack and janet are both shown to be alive and present with tim, living as a normal family. they were fundamentally unable to handle the dooming of the narrative!! they didn't have a kid thinking "oh but what if we go to the circus and see people die, on second thought maybe we shouldn't i don't think i could handle that". they wanted tim! they just. couldn't quite handle everything that happens. that's what's sad. to me.

[wordsfromthesol]

Stalker

Author: @wordsfromthesol​ Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Warnings:  Language, kidnapping, happy ending per usual. Word Count: 1.8k Requested: @vvipgot7be​

A/N: P.S. No one could ever annoy me by sending requests. Or just in general, I’m pretty hard to annoy. Feel free to send messages, requests, or just say hi 😊

You knew you shouldn’t have kept them, but there was just something more eerie about throwing them away. Unfortunately, your decision blew up in your face one night when you got home from patrol. You were grateful for the slow night, but you could immediately tell something was wrong when you got home. Your eyes darted around the dark apartment, focusing on the beam of light coming from underneath the bedroom door. Slowly you walked over and opened it, relaxing a bit when you saw it was only Jason, only to tense up more when you saw what was scattered on the bed around him.

“What the fuck is this?” He questioned you, eyes transfixed on the various letters and photos laid out before him.

“It’s no big deal, really.”

“No big deal?! This is a photo of you stitching up a bullet wound. I’m not even going to start on why you shouldn’t have been doing that here.” Your eyes sank to the ground. “Oh and here’s one of you at the coffee shop…YESTERDAY. Unless you’ve worn that exact outfit to the coffee shop some other time.”

“I mean probably…but that is from yesterday.”

“And these letters? A sick combination of possessive admiration and death threats. Why haven’t I seen this before?”

“I didn’t want you to freak out. It’s fine, I can handle it.”

“Clearly, the oldest one I’ve found is dated 5 years ago.” Something clicked in Jason’s mind. “Wait, did this all start when you became a vigilante?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know that that’s the reason.” Jason sighed as he picked up another picture, it was you changing into your suit, and showed it to you.

“Believe me, I’ve seen it. But I only started getting costumed pictures of me like 2 years ago.”

“ONLY?!”

“Well I have been one for 5 years…”

“Just pack a bag. You are not staying here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Seriously Y/N. Ridiculous. This person describes kidnapping you, in great length and detail. You’re staying with me, I’m not arguing about this.” You sighed and dug through the box until you found a photograph of you at Jason’s apartment.

“It doesn’t really matter where I am. Remember about three when I stayed with you for almost a month straight?”

“Yeah…” Jason took the photo to examine it.

“That was when I got gotten a particularly bad letter, it just really stressed me out. Then I didn’t get anything for almost 2 weeks, but the creep is persistent.”

“Well then we are going to the Manor. Even if he knows you’re there, we have plenty of security. And you aren’t leaving until we figure out who it is.”

“Oh…I know who it is.”

“WHAT?!”

“Jay, I’m a vigilante too. Of course I looked into this. He’s just a nobody, nothing to worry about.”

“Those are the worst kind, you never know when they are going to snap. Listen, get your shit, we are going to the Manor. I’m calling Dick to arrest this guy.”

“You can’t arrest him, he hasn’t done anything.”

“These photographs and letters say otherwise. Now, let’s go.” Jason gathered the documents and put them back in the box, firmly tucking it under his arm.

**

It was still weird waking up in the Manor, even though you’d slept here dozens of times, it just felt big and empty. You stumbled downstairs, joining Jason and Tim in the kitchen.

“You have a stalker and didn’t tell us?” Were the first words out of Tim’s mouth.

“Don’t tell me Jason’s roped you into this. He’s a nobody.”

“Do you actually know that? How extensive did your search go?”

“Well I’m sure not as extensive as yours is about to,” you mumbled as you made your way to the coffee.

“You’re right, give me that.” Tim snatched the box from Jason’s clutches and headed straight for the cave.

“See what you’ve done?”

“Stopped you from getting kidnapped?” Jason’s voice went up a few octaves while his head tilted in response.

“Hm mm, well I’m giving you two days here. Then I’m going home. You are all being ridiculous.”

**

They may be keeping you from your apartment, but there was no way they could keep you from going on patrol. Before Jason could stop you, you suited up and headed for the door. Unfortunately, Jason did catch up with you in the garage.

“Are you crazy?”

“Jay, I’m completely geared up, on alert, and on comms. I think I’ll be okay on patrol. Besides, what is this dude going to do? Scour rooftops until he finds me?”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t put it past him. Some of the photographs were taken from some intense vantage points.”

“Stop being paranoid. I’ll get past you one way or another.”

“Fine. But if you don’t check in every hour, I will come looking for you.”

“Deal.” You were thankful that Jason didn’t try too hard to stop you. Mounting the bike next to you, you immediately headed for the Narrows. You needed to punch something or someone, and that would be the quickest place to find said thing.

You didn’t even make it that far. Someone ran you off the road soon after you left the cave. You swerved to avoid hitting a tree, causing you to flip over your bike, rolling down the hill until your head smashed into a rock.

**

“Do you know where Y/N is?” Tim questioned his older brother.

“She left like half an hour ago for patrol, I couldn’t stop her.” Jason explained.

“Well learning about this dude has been a trip. You know he’s on like 4 different antipsychotics…”

“Uhm, why would I have known that Timmy?”

“Well, it doesn’t look like he’s filled the prescriptions recently. By my calculations, he should’ve run out almost 3 months ago.”

“3 months…shit. I’m going to find her.”

“Keep your comms on.” Tim warned his brother.

**

You woke up in a bed, an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. If you could call it a room. The concrete walls encased you, no openings except a steel front door with a small slot.

“Oh my beautiful, you are awake! You know I was ever so worried when you did not go back to your apartment all day. I scoured Gotham and couldn’t find you. I decided it best to keep you safe. Where I always know you’ll be.”

“Ian? Is that you?”

“Well of course it is darling. Don’t be silly, who else would it be?”

“Right, how silly of me. Why don’t you come in so I can see your face?”

“In due time, now you need rest.”

You immediately tried to contact Jason on your comm, but all this concrete was blocking the signal. Looking around, you searched for any kind of opening or even something you could boost the signal with. No luck. Even the bathroom didn’t seem to have any ventilation.

“Ian?” You called out. “I would really love some water.”

“I will fetch some…as soon as you let me know where you’ve stashed my stuff.”

“Your stuff?”

“Oh yes, the letters and pictures. I did love going through them again and again. I went to look for them and well, they weren’t under your bed anymore.”

“Of course, I was planning to stay with a friend. So I simply brought them with me. I couldn’t leave such valuables unguarded.”

“You say that, but the last time you left you left you left for a month! A month and my love was just alone. Under that bed. Though I must thank you, I would not have made it through had it not been for them. That’s why when I found you gone again. Well I couldn’t let that happen. You’re mine. You know you’re mine. I humored your relationship with that BOY. But no longer. You. Are. Mine.”

“That’s all I want to be. How about I take to my friend’s and we can get them together.”

“No. You cannot leave. Tell me where they are.”

“Wayne Manor. It’s at Wayne Manor.”

“You showed them to HIM?!”

“Only, only to show him how much you loved me. So he would back off. I swear.”

“Good. Maybe the insolent creature got the hint. I will go retrieve them now.”

In a minute you were alone. You stuck your comm through the slot of the steel door, hoping to get any kind of signal. No luck. Signaling a continuous SOS, you attached it to one of your boomerangs and threw it through the opening.

“Jason is so going to kill me” you mumbled to yourself as you went through your equipment, trying to calculate a way out.

**

“Tim, did you get any hits on her location? I can’t find her or her bike anywhere.”

“Not yet. Everything is saying no signal. I’m going to try and get a piggy-back to boost the signal. Maybe she’s underground or something.”

“Where’s that Ian guy live?”

“I’ll send you the address on file, but Jay…he’s here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean security cameras just picked him up outside the Manor.”

“Get what you can out of him, I’m going to head to his house.”

Jason drove around the house a few times before deciding to enter. Well if this doesn’t scream creepy stalker, I don’t know what does. He carefully went room by room, looking for anything to indicate you were here.

**

You heard the sound of a door opening. No way Ian is back from the Manor that quick. Grabbing one of the small detonations you had laid out on the bed you pressed the trigger and threw it out the opening.

**

Jason heard a muffled blast. Even if it wasn’t you, something sketchy was happening. He went towards the sound and ended at a dead end. He searched around the room, when suddenly a door opened behind him. He saw your boomerang lodged into the door.

“Jason?” Tim called out over the comm.

“Did you get him?”

“You could say that. Uhm, I don’t think he’s going to be giving any information though.”

“That’s okay, I think I found her. Call Dick because if that bastard is there when I get back, I will kill him.”

“He’s already on the way –” Tim’s voice cut off as Jason entered the hallway.

“Y/N?” Jason called out.

“JAY! I’m here!” You called back, delighted to hear his voice. Jason raced towards you, ignoring the small hole in the concrete floor several feet from a steel bunker door. As the door creaked open you collapsed in his arms, mumbling against his chest, “If you say I told you so I will murder you.”

“Fine, but you owe me.”

You pulled back and looked at him, “And what do I owe you?”

“Well you aren’t living by yourself ever again, that’s for sure.”

You started laughing, “Alright alright. Now get me the fuck out of here.” Jason pressed a kiss to your forehead before leading you out of the bunker.

[iphoenixrising]

For 800 Followers! The Wrong Robin

Babe recc’ed me a fic, Liminal Space by Calamityjim and a few profound things hit me in this fic. The author talks about how basically when shit gets broken, it’s broke. The Bats fucked Tim over and it’s not just a forgive-and-forget situation. It’s literally a darker world he’s living in and my fucking heart goes out to him. I write some angsty things about Tim not coming back to the Bats, but I do a few that really aren’t that, so this is inspired by the Tim that can’t go back.

So, for everyone that’s only wanted to do good things but still gets beaten down over and over again. I love you. I love you so so much.

**

Getting pissed really isn’t an option.

Because vigilantes arguing in the middle of a rooftop after an epic takedown is never good PR for the capes and cowls–

(but it isn’t like he’s really one of them anymore, right?)

“Can’t motherfuckin’ believe I’m hearin’ this shit, Pretender.” The Red Hood is standing tall against the night with forearms and fists clenched by his sides, fucking arguing with him like any of it means a damn thing.

“Am I in the Twilight Zone right now or some shit?” Red Robin comes back, sneering and baring his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “Who the fuck even are you?”

“Lookit here, asshole–”

But Red just moves, gets right up in Hood’s grill, whiteouts narrowed in the night, standing right the hell up to the Robin that once-upon-a-time was his (and welp, hadn’t that ship sailed?)

“Why are you even here?” He demands, low and dark, “wasn’t it enough to shove a Batarang in my chest? To almost slit my throat? Wasn’t that the fuck enough for you? And then this shit? You here telling me some pile of crap about how I should come back? Come back to what?”

Hood takes a step back, the tension in his shoulders and forearms loosening, “whoa, waitaminute, just wait–”

“You called me fucking Pretender, didn’t you?” Is even lower, the younger vigilante still as stone, “because that’s what I am, right? No matter what my intentions were, no matter how much of a beating I took all those years. None of that shit means a fucking thing, does it?”

“Look, kid, I don’t know what the hell yer goin’ on ‘bout. B just asked–”

“What? He asked you to tell me to get the fuck out of Gotham? Like I really need anyone to tell me that? Like I don’t already fucking know?”

Now it’s the Red Hood that stills, not even a huff or guffaw through the synths, just the tiniest movement of the helmet moving to track when Red Robin takes a step back.

“Go back and tell B to stop wasting your fucking time, Hood. He’s already got all his Robins.”

And Red knows he’s taking a real risk here, turning away from the vigilante that’s tried taking him out of the game more than once, one that hadn’t had a fucking moment of hesitation. He knows giving his back to Jason Todd could be the last mistake he ever makes.

Still, he’s not the same person he was back when the Battle for the Cowl was going down. He’s not the same person Jason Todd asked to be his Robin. He’s not the same person that died a little the day the tunic was taken right out of his hands.

He’s more pragmatic, less idealistic. He’s a vigilante that’s hit the grey areas and been able to come back–

(and fuck you, Bruce. Fuck you for coming after him when that little thing with Boomerang went down. When he didn’t let that murdering bastard die. When Red realized who he was, and that was not a murderer, when he wasn’t going to be like Boomerang or his future gun-toting Batman self. Fuck YOU, B. Jason got a second chance. Damian got a second chance. But him? Well, he’s the fucking Robin that was never chosen, so jumping all over him was pretty much fine.)

He’s pretty sure the fight between him and the Red Hood would go down very differently if he’d been that broken the last time they had it out. Hood never would have asked for Red to be another Batman’s Robin. He would have gotten the fuck you memo first thing.

But really, what does any of that matter now?

They’ve reached the end of his little Robin ride, so it’s time to cut his losses and move on – just like all of them pretty much wanted.

So he’s going to do just that. He’s going to stand with his team, take every lesson he’s ever learned from the Bats, and keep fucking moving. It’s what he’s been doing for a little more than a year, makes it easy to turn away from Hood, makes him narrow his eyes when a gloved hand catches his elbow unexpectedly just as he’s ready to shoot the grapple and take off into the night. Red Robin finds himself gone far enough from who and what he used to be that he’s already got a plan to put Jason Todd the fuck down this time.

(You’re not getting another chance to fuck me over, Todd. Not again.)

“Hey,” is low through the synths, the hand around his elbow not tight enough to be a hold, not really. “Lemme start again, yeah?”

“There’s no point in starting anything,” Red Robin doesn’t even turn to look over his shoulder, to acknowledge Hood, “everything has been over for a long damn time. Go back and tell them that.”

The grapple fires in the night, a bang, cuts off a “–wait a motherfucking minute!” when he’s pulled into space, pulled out in the dark Gotham night. A flicker of gold from the harness and utility belt, a dance of shadows in the shape of a flapping cape, and the younger vigilante is gone in a literal blink.

Hood shakes his head a little, thrown from the way his replacement brushed him completely off, sprouted old rhetoric from the days when the second Robin was one angry motherfucker.

And as much as he shouldn’t give two shits about the ig’nant fuck, the sight of that kid’s face when he was in the red, gold, and green, that face when he was clutching at his throat, bleedin’ like a stuck pig, looking so fucking devastated, is there in the Red Hood’s mind’s eye when he fires his own grapple and takes off in the opposite direction.

**

Dickie don’t make it any better. Not at all.

“He didn’t want to hear it, B,” the oldest Robin shakes his head sadly, “and maybe we should just let him go. He’s got his own team and a new ident. Maybe he’s just happier where he is.”

Stephanie Brown straightens up, mouth set in a grim line. But at the end of the day, she has nothing to argue, really. Her choices back then had been...questionable, even with the best of intentions. Scarab and faking her own death, piling more on a newly orphaned Robin hadn’t been the answer, hadn’t been the way to test his limits to see what would finally make him break.

It’s a few years too late for these realizations, and even when she wants to shove her face right up in Dick Grayson’s grill and argue–

She can’t.

And fuck, she hates it.

Behind them, Jason Todd is sitting at his workstation, back to the conversation after giving them a clipped, condensed version of events. At first, the two of them were talking low at the Batcomputer after a somewhat easy patrol.

She, Dick, and Dami had come in and started breaking out of the capes for the night before catching some of the conversation –

“Lil’ asshole didn’t stay long ‘nough ta listen, you feel me, B?”

“He wouldn’t even hear you out?”

Between getting out of the body armor and taking a shower, unwinding wrists and ankles, ruffling their Robin as much as possible just to have him “tt” at her and still grin when he turns away from her teasing, she’d come to stand on the outskirts with Dick, waiting to give her nightly report before crashing hardcore.

“Said ya already had all yer Robins. Also said ta tell ya ta stop wasting yer time n’ shit.”

The Dark Knight is silent, cowl back to air out his sweaty hair, arms crossed over his chest. The draw of his brows and deep frown are telling as to what he thinks of this little convo.

She’d been ready to ask who are you talking about? since all the previous Robins were, in fact, more at the Manor these days than even Alfred can remember. It’s rough and tumble sometimes, all of them grating on each other, but it really was what Batman Incorporated probably should have always been.

At least for the Batfamily.

But when she pauses, when the words get stuck in her throat, his masked face from way back when gives her pause, is still associated with old pains and regrets, and Steph has to take a long, deep breath.

That’s when Dick, who’d apparently also put the topic of conversation together, had stepped in to break the news to them.

“Maybe he’s just...moved on.”

She grinds her back teeth together, and can’t say a fucking thing.

**

“Tt,” is about as unconvincing as you can get. Certainly Drake will realize it.

“I asked what you wanted,” Red Robin reminds him, not bothering to look up from the microscope he’s studying.

“As I said,” Robin repeats, “Father has requested you return to Gotham. As I understand there is some yearly tradition he wishes to reinstate.”

“And as I said,” is unruffled, absent; the older vigilante obviously distracted as he jots down notes on a steno pad beside the microscope, “enjoy that. Don’t come back unless you need something important.”

Irritation wells up, but the teenager closes his eyes behind the whiteouts and takes a soft breath, trying to quell the emotion, reminding himself that Drake may be annoying and arrogant, but he was also once a Robin. He has had a few redeeming instances in his crime fighting career.

“This is important to Father, Drake,” Robin replies in an even tone, “he wants all the Bats to participate. Thus this applies to you.”

His predecessor’s muscles go tight in just the under suit, straightens away from the delicate equipment at one of the labs in Titan’s Tower, but still, he doesn’t bother to turn and face the current Robin head-on.

After a few seconds of silence, Red Robin goes back to the microscope. “C’mon, stop fucking around. Go back and tell him I said I was busy for, like, the next ten years or something.”

“That would be inaccurate.”

“Well, tell him I just said no.” Shrug of the shoulders, back to divided attention, and it is quickly starting to get more than just irritating.

“If I am to tell him that, Drake, then he will ask why.”

“Tell him I’m not his responsibility anymore. I mean, wouldn’t it be awkward if I did show up? Nobody needs that, and I have plenty to do here.”

Robin’s crossed arms loosen just a little, his back less rigid, the discussion in the Cave a few days ago still sitting in the back of his mind, making him wonder.

“Very well,” he makes it falsely light on purpose, “and when I return to Gotham with your answer, he will be the one to show up next. Unless you want to deal with that, you will need to provide better reasonings.” And a huff because he has no idea why he’s even still here, “Drake. They are a pain in the ass. This is not news to you. However,” and the pause, how he trails off is the things that finally gets the older vigilante to glance over his shoulder, “they are family. They are your family and mine. It is...troublesome at times, but they are what they are.”

Whatever he said is enough to make the older vigilante stop what he’s doing and lightly brace just his fingertips on the countertop as he stands.

Drake turns and approaches slowly, whiteouts up and face utterly impassive. A few feet between them and his predecessor breaks it out, calm and low when Robin feels like this visage is only another type of mask.

“Family? You think I’m family? That I ever was in the first place?”

Robin’s arms tighten.

“I didn’t want to be Robin forever,” Drake keeps going and Robin can imagine his eyes are cold and calm behind the domino, “I gave it ten years or so. That should have been plenty of time for B to get over Jason��s death. At least enough that he would get control over himself back. But the longer I was in the tunic, the more people that died around me, the more I had to change so I didn’t end up doing the same thing he did. There wasn’t another kid to hang around and keep me from destroying myself, so I had to keep my shit together.”

Robin’s mouth is slightly open, wondering why all this is coming out now? He and Drake have always been little more than rivals. This heartfelt account makes Robin uncomfortable for several reasons–

Primarily because he’s never been interested in his predecessor’s time in the tunic. It had simply never mattered, not when he took over the Robin mantle and strove to make it his rather than Drake’s.

“But when he disappeared, and everything that happened afterwards. All of that made me realize that no matter what I did, or what I tried to do, it was never supposed to have been me in that tunic.” A gloved finger flicks to the R on Robin’s left shoulder. “I wasn’t family, Damian. Not from the moment I put it on for the first time, and not at the end when Dick pulled it out from under me. Family? Family wouldn’t do that.”

And even if it’s difficult, Robin tries to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry.

“The last time I even talked to your dad? Was when the Boomerang thing happened, you know that, right?” And Red Robin goes still enough that Robin wonders if he’s even breathing. “No one died, and even though I didn’t let that happen, I’m the one that didn’t get a second chance. Not like you or Jason. All those years, all the times I pulled him out of the fire, all those years I thought he was my friend, my partner, my family. All of it meant nothing in the end.”

And Drake takes one step closer, just one, arms still crossed over his chest, head tilted down, but Robin feels like his chest is so tight, like he can’t even get a breath.

“So,” and Drake’s voice is softer now, gentle almost, “he won’t be showing up. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s probably time for you to go back to Gotham. Batman...needs a Robin.”

And if his vision blurs behind the whiteouts suspiciously as Drake walks away from him, through the open doors of the lab, no one would be the wiser.

[chibinightowl]

Down the Rabbit Hole, Chapter Eight (end)

Well. Has it really been an entire year since I started this story? Apparently it has. Happy birthday once more to the amazingly talented @tanekore!!! 

Read the previous chapters on Ao3!

~*~*~

In the cool darkness of the Batcave, Tim sits beside Jason’s bed and watches as the Martian Manhunter probes the dream of the one he loves. It’s been almost two full days since he’s heard that voice and the sarcastic yet witty comments that practically define Jason. He misses him so much even though he’s laying right here in front of him.

Dick is seated beside him, having claimed oldest bird privilege when he displaced Damian, who hovers around the end of the bed while Bruce and Alfred wait across from him and Dick. It’s been almost an hour since J’onn entered Jason’s mind, his expression remaining as cool and unflappable as always.

The straps have been put back in place, the reprieve from earlier over and done with as Jason resumed the activity occurring in his head. If Tim had to guess, there’s a lot of running and walking involved as his legs have been in almost constant motion, twitching and jerking about. Something else apparently happened too, much to his surprise earlier in the afternoon when he woke up and spelled Alfred from his vigil.

Tim is quietly glad no one else was around for that as it raised more questions than it provided answers. He still wonders who Jason is dreaming about, who it is that made him cry out and find his release like he did. It would be nice if it’s him; in fact, he really hopes it is, but he refuses to begrudge Jason his happiness, even if it is only a dream.

They have so few of those moments as it is with the life they lead.

J’onn finally looks up from his intense study, though his hands remain on either side of Jason’s head. Everyone tenses, waiting on his words. “The Red Hood is lost inside his own mind. He has created an entire world of his own, full of people that hold particular meaning to him, good and bad.”

“Can you get him out?” Bruce asks roughly. His face is lined with worry.

“I can, but it will be difficult unless I have his cooperation. He believes that he has to complete a quest to find a particular sword and return it to its rightful owner before he’ll be shown the way home.”

“Does he know that he’s dreaming then?” Tim interjects before Bruce can.

“Yes. From what I’ve gleaned of his thoughts and memories within the dream, he was growing fearful that it wasn’t, that he was somehow trapped in a different reality. But recent events have made the Red Hood reevaluate that belief.” J’onn’s voice takes on a warning note. “However, while he is on the verge of completing his quest, there no guarantee that he will wake up on his own. He might very well stay locked in that world until the end of his days.”

Dick surges to his feet. “We’ve got to get him out of there now. It can be done before the quest is complete, right?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, there’s another person in this same state,” Damian adds, always the one to play devil’s advocate. “The man Todd was fighting when he got gassed, he’s also like this.”

“We'll take care of him next,” Bruce states firmly. “At least we know whatever this particular toxin is, it runs its course on its own. Jason’s bloodwork and the spinal tap from earlier are completely clean.”

“Then why hasn’t Todd woken up on his own?” Damian counters. “If the toxin is gone, then he should have by now.”

Dick shakes his head. “The mind is a tricky thing, D. As I’m sure J’onn can attest to.”

“It most certainly is.” The Martian nods in agreement, his long fingers still laced against Jason’s skull. “In his dream, the Red Hood is about to do battle with his greatest nightmare. His sole ally has left him in favor of his own beloved one. It is possible that I can bring him out before the battle commences, but the Red Hood has discovered he has some semblance of control over the dream itself. I suspect that if I were to try and remove him on my own, he would resist me, so great is his desire to purge this evil from his mind.”

He pauses, and glances around at each of them.

Tim can see what he’s about to say from a mile away. “If anyone is going to retrieve Jason from the inside of his own head, it’ll be me,” he says before anyone else can speak up.

Bruce opens his mouth to protest, but Dick rests a hand on Tim's shoulder. “I’m with Tim on this one.”

J'onn is already nodding, even as Bruce looks like he’s swallowed a sour grape. “The close relationship between the Red Hood and Red Robin should be more than enough to convince him.”

“I will not risk losing both of them,” Bruce snaps, eyes hot as he struggles to contain himself. Risking their necks out on the streets each night is one thing. Out there, the enemy is tangible and can be fought with their fists or their wits. But this?

It’s all in Jason’s head.

And considering some of the things that he still has nightmares about, going in there may be even more dangerous than what they face out here in the real world. Jason often jokes that the universe likes to use him as a punching bag and there are times Tim believes he’s not entirely off the mark.

“Bruce, you can’t make that decision for me,” Tim replies levelly. “Everything we do, each night we go out there, we don’t know if we’ll come back. But we do it anyway because we believe in our training and each other. We believe in you, so please, have a little faith in us. In me.”

The cave is eerily quiet as Bruce struggles, torn between his own desire to be the one to save his son, the one he’d failed to save before, and to let his other son be the hero he’s more than proven himself to be.

“Fine,” he finally says gruffly and looks away.

Alfred pats him on the shoulder. “Good lad,” he murmurs.

Tim lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding.

“Okay, so now that that’s been decided,” Dick speaks up to break the tension. “How is this supposed to work, J’onn?”

The Martian gestures toward the bed. “It will be easiest if you lay beside the Red Hood, Red Robin. I will lull you to the cusp of sleep and when you are about to enter your own dream, I will direct you into the Red Hood’s instead.”

That sounds simple enough and Tim hops up to settle in as best he can next to Jason. The straps are in the way, but with how he’s twitching and occasionally thrashing, they’ll have to stay in place.

“What exactly is Todd dreaming about, Martian?” Damian asks from the end of the bed. “You mentioned a sword quest earlier.” He actually sounds curious, probably because a sharp, pointy object is involved.

J’onn places a hand over Tim’s eyes, blocking the overhead light. Instinctively, Tim closes them. Time to get this show on the road.

“He is about to face off against a foe known as the Jabberwocky with a blade called the vorpal sword. For most of his quest, he was with person called the Cheshire Cat, but he has just left the Red Hood to retreat from the battle with a mind-controlled man who was formerly the White Knight.”

Dick snorts and even Damian scoffs. “The fool is dreaming he’s in Wonderland?”

“I don’t see anything wonderful about it,” J’onn states in his somber tone, fingers gently settling over Tim’s temples. Lethargy flows through him and Tim feels more relaxed than he has in years. It’s a shame he can’t fall asleep like this every night. “The Red Queen is Harley Quinn and the Joker is the Jabberwocky.”

Oh, shit. This isn’t going to be easy. Far from it.

~*~*~

Jason has the distinct impression he’s walking into a gunfight with the wrong weapon. Not that the vorpal sword is a bad weapon, far from it. What sucks is that he’d rather not have to get anywhere close to the Joker if he can avoid it. One shot right between the eyes is too merciful for that shit stain Bruce will never let him eradicate, but he’s vowed to himself that if the opportunity ever comes, he’ll do it and to hell with the consequences. He messed up once before and he won’t do it again.

Tim knows this too. When they were still feeling their way around in the beginning of their relationship, Jason made this fact crystal clear because he wouldn’t go further if Tim couldn’t accept it.

The little shit did, actually. But what blew Jason’s mind was his own story about how through a series of carefully orchestrated events, Tim almost killed Captain Boomerang, the man who murdered his father. The piece of garbage that the universe gave another chance to, that at times he wishes he still had the conviction to finish the job.

Yeah, Jason can relate.

The Joker’s rictus grin grows the closer he gets to the house, a constant between the two forms he’s shifting between. “You never answered my question, bird boy,” he calls out, holding up a crowbar that’s dripping blood. “Forehand or backhand?”

Fuck the mind-games already. He doesn’t want to deal with them, not now, not ever again. “Who says you’re any good at either of them?”

That earns him a pouty frown and a flicker into the beast his mind apparently has conjured for the Jabberwocky. He rises up, towering higher than the house like a demon from the depths of hell. “You will die here, Jason Todd,” the Jokerwocky howls. “Unloved. Unwelcome. Completely and utterly alone.”

“Dramatic much?” a wry voice comments from behind Jason. “Seriously, I know you’re a drama queen, Jay, but this is ridiculous.”

What the fuck?

Jason looks over his shoulder, then turns fully because his mind has to be playing tricks on him. There is no way Tim is standing there. His Tim, with his stupid black cowl that looks like a condom and even stupider oh shit handles strapped across his chest.

It can’t be him. Especially since his Tim doesn’t walk around with a large green lizard on his shoulder that has rather familiar beady red eyes.

Tim pushes back his cowl, revealing bright blue eyes that Jason could lose himself in for days. “Come on, Jay. It’s time to wake up.”

“You’re not here. You can’t be here.” Christ, but does he want it to be real. Tim-Cat is all well and good, but there’s no one he’d rather have to watch his back than his Tim. The real Tim.

“I’m here thanks to J’onn.” Tim gestures at the lizard. “I think you’ve met the Martian Manhunter before, right? We called him in when you wouldn’t wake up. We’re all physically in the cave, Jay. You and me, sleeping. Dick, Bruce, Alfred, even Damian, they’re all waiting for us.”

Jason scoffs. “Like that brat would ever want me to open my eyes again.”

“You’d be surprised. He expressed actual concern for your well-being before J’onn put me to sleep.”

That’s something he’d pay good money to see.

Behind him, the Jokerwocky screams in anger. “You are mine! Mine to destroy, mine to enslave! Mine!”

It’s the fact that the Joker is pitching a bitch fit over Tim’s words that convinces Jason he’s real.

“Tim?”

He takes a step closer and holds out his hand. “I’m here, Jay. You don’t have to fight the Joker. Just take my hand and we can wake up. All of this is just a dream.”

Jason sighs, shaking his head while sheathing the vorpal sword. “That’s just it, Tim. I want to fight him. I want to kill him. Who knows if I’ll ever have the chance in the real world? We’re all here in my head, so what does it really matter?”

Tim frowns. “Is this the only reason why you don’t want to wake up?”

The Jokerwocky howls and flaps his massive wings, sending gusts of wind out across the overgrown lawn strong enough to make Jason and Tim stagger. “Yes, fight amongst yourselves! You will never leave! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

“Shut the fuck up while the adults are talkin’, you piece of shit!” Jason snatches one of his guns and fires it at the Joker, wishing the bullets were real instead of rubber. While he’s at it, might as well wish for a rocket launcher.

The Joker screams in pain but oddly enough, doesn’t attack. It occurs to Jason that the beast appears to be metaphorically chained to the house and can’t move past it, so they can mostly ignore him. Which is fine with him because he’s got some business to hash out with Tim. Perhaps he’s not quite as on board with his real-life plans after all.

“Tim, I know this is a dream. I want to wake up. But before I do, I just wanna do this one thing. Just let me kill him and we can get out of here.”

A dream that has been so damned real that it’s almost painful to want to leave. But it’s not like Tim-Cat is real and besides, he’s got his Knight back. Even if this wasn’t a dream, chances were likely he wouldn’t want to shack up with them both. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to live with two Tims. They’d probably end up burying him alive somewhere and running off together.

It doesn’t look like Tim is convinced. “How does killing the Joker in a dream do any good when he’s still alive out there? That’s where it matters, not in here. I know you want that, if the opportunity presents itself and I’ve said I won’t stop you.”

He also said he wouldn’t help him either.

“What if that doesn’t happen though?” Jason persists. “Maybe this will be almost as cathartic as the real deal. Maybe, just maybe, killing him in here will finally mean I can sleep through the night in peace.”

Not every night because their lives are shit for that to even be a remote possibility, but perhaps he’ll be able to wake up next to Tim and not be covered in sweat from the terrors that stalk his nightmares.

Tim glances at the Jokerwocky still raging behind him and back to Jason. The pensive look on his face tells him that he’s about to give in, but with misgivings. “J’onn seems to be on your side,” he comments idly. “Not that he’s giving a reason why.”

Jason has almost completely forgotten the third member of their little party. Big mistake there as the Martian Manhunter is one of the most powerful members of the Justice League, a fact easily overlooked considering how reserved he is compared to other members. Back in his Robin days, he’d never heard Bruce speak of him with anything other than respect. He could probably yank them all out of here in a heartbeat.

So why hasn’t he? He remembers seeing the lizard earlier before he and Tim-Cat stormed the hedge. J’onn could have woken him up right then and there instead of letting him get up in the Bandersnatch’s business and wander into that psychedelic nightmare of a house. It’s almost as if he wants him to complete his quest...

Gleaming red eyes stare back at him and Jason swears he winks.

Well, well, well.

Tim frowns harder. “You are so damned stubborn.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

“Let’s get this over with.” Tim jerks his head toward the house. “Now make up your mind. Hell beast or human?”

A victory is a victory and right now, he’ll take what he can get. Jason grins as he turns his attention back to the Jokerwocky. The flickering is worse now, switching from one terrifying visage to the other and back again. All he has to do is decide.  

The demonic beast is frightening beyond belief, black as sin and the darkness that haunts his deepest nightmares. Stifling pitch darkness that surrounds and suffocates him, that has him clawing for air and freedom and light. But for all of that, it’s not what tortures him most.

Night is followed by day, after all. Tim, hell, even the rest of his family, have taught him that. The lesson just took a few years to sink in. Jason can just hear Damian muttering about him being a slow learner.

Just like that, the beast disappears, leaving a man clutching the railing across the front of the house with a grin so wide that it would put the original Cheshire Cat to shame.

“Ready to come and play, birdbrain?”

Jason is more than ready and resumes his steady march back toward Arkham, this time with Tim keeping pace at his side.

“What’s the plan?” Tim asks, voice pitched low.

“Keep an eye out for Harley. She’s around here somewhere.” Better that Harley becomes Tim’s problem, it’ll give him one less thing to worry about. The vague concern about having to take on both the Joker and his annoying as fuck, but no less deadly psychotic girlfriend dissipates. Why can’t the Harley in his dream be the same as the one out in the real world? That one would be marching right along with them with her giant fucking mallet to beat the shit out of her former puddin’.

“Fine, but what’s your plan for taking him on?”

“It’ll come to me.”

“In the next ten seconds or so?”

“Sure.”

Truth be told, Jason has no set plan for killing the Joker. He knows how he’d prefer to do it, but a sword isn’t exactly the right weapon for shooting someone. It means he has to get right up close and personal, parry that damn crowbar a few times before the blade breaks it and he can make with the stabbing.

Too many things can go wrong with that scenario. It’s the Joker and his nightmare, so why would things go right?

As they approach the steps to the wide portico, the Joker comes to meet them, his stride long and nonchalant, like this was nothing but a walk in the park for him. In one hand is the crowbar that still drips blood from some unseen source. He stops at the top of the steps to face them, tapping the tip of the bleeding metal against his other hand with wet smacks that send splatters of red flying.

Jason’s memory helpfully provides another time he and the Joker faced off over a crowbar and his ribs twinge in agony.

Gee, no, his imagination isn’t fucking with him, really. Nope, this is all nice and normal, right here.

“Alright you fuckin’ clown. Let’s get this over with so I can wake up.”

The Joker’s grin grows wider, his teeth stained yellow under the pale light of the moon. “You will never wake up, Jason. It’s just you and me and the crowbar for as long as your heart beats. Those others are lying to you, just as they always have. No one wants you except for me, little robin.”

He breaks off into another maniacal laugh.

Jason shakes his head and lets the words fall away. Once upon a time, he’d have believed them, he really would have. But while he has many doubts about his place in Gotham, in his family, there is one relationship he doesn’t, and that person stands by his side. “Jesus Christ, you are such a fuckin’ liar.”

His hand falls to his waist to grasp the hilt of the vorpal sword.

But rather than unsheathing a sword, he raises a gun, the gleaming silvery metal a match for either of the .45s strapped to his thighs.

“What the hell?” Tim gapes at the weapon the vorpal sword has morphed into.

Jason doesn’t question it. His dream, his weapon. Finally, something is going his way. He flips the safety and takes aim. “Tweet, tweet, motherfucker.”

Okay, so it’s not the most original line in the world, but damn is it satisfying.

The gunshot rips through the night with a snicker-snack, and the Joker appears surprised at the unexpected assault, eyes crossing as he tries to take in the hole that now adorns his forehead. But Jason is confident that the vorpal sword picked up on his preferred ammo, so while the damage to the Joker’s face is rather minimal, there’s nothing left to the back of his head after the bullet ripped apart his brain and shattered against the skull.

The Joker falls to the ground, a puppet who’s lost his strings. The crowbar lands beside him, a soft thunk as it falls from that long-fingered grip.

One, two! One, two! And through and through, the vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head, he went galumphing back.

Tempting as it was to decapitate the Joker, there really wasn’t much left of his skull to make it worth his while. Besides, Jason doubts the White Queen really wants to mount the Jokerwocky’s head on her wall.

Tim-Cat is an entirely different story.

A loud wail echoes from the Asylum as Harley makes herself known. “Puddin’! My puddin’!” Her cries fade away as the house shudders again, foundations cracking and quaking as the earth heaves.

Jason grabs Tim’s shoulder and yanks. “Run!”

For the second time that night, he races toward the hedge and the safety of the garden beyond. Behind him, wood splinters and stone groans as Arkham Asylum is swallowed into the ground, sinking into the caves beneath the surface.

Tim is hot on his heels, cape whipping behind him as he keeps pace.

There’s no Bandersnatch blocking the way, so Jason stops to catch his breath as soon as they reach the trees.

“What…happened?” Tim gasps, sucking in air like it’s going out of style. They’re both in great shape, but a sprint of that magnitude is bound to make them both need to relearn how to breathe.

Rather like how they did the first time they’d had sex.

Jason holds up the vorpal gun that’s still clasped tightly in his hand. “I shot him.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Tim pushes away from the tree he’s leaning against. “Since when has the vorpal sword been able to turn into a gun?”

“The vorpal blade takes whatever form it’s bearer needs it to.” The voice speaks from up in the branches of the tree. “My Knight is swordsman. You are a gunman. Didn’t you know that?”

Tim-Cat drops gracefully to the ground.

Jason wants to choke at the sight of two Tims standing before him. “No, I didn’t,” he replies somewhat testily as his Tim stares in amazement at his doppelgänger. “Don’t cha think that would have been a helpful bit of information to share?”

The Cheshire Cat is staring just as curiously at his human counterpart. “I was distracted,” he replies, clearly not paying Jason much attention.

“Why are you here?” Jason asks, holstering the gun. “I thought you’d be further along with your Knight.”

“He and the Bandersnatch are under Absalom’s care. She’s one of the most trusted agents of the White Queen.” Tim-Cat finally tears his gaze away from Tim’s. “I came back because I thought you’d need help.” He smirks, fangs flashing in the moonlight. “But I see I was already with you.”

Tim slowly shakes his head. “Jay, is this how you see me? Really?”

The grin sharpens. “How do you think I feel? My Knight and your Jason are identical in all ways. Right down to that little thing they do with their –”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Jason steps forward before Tim-Cat can finish that sentence. “No one is comparing notes here, got it?”

The look Tim gives him says they’re having a long talk later. Great. Just great.

Jason unclips the vorpal gun from his belt to hand it over to Tim-Cat. “Here. According to that green lizard, I don’t have to actually return this to the White Queen in order to wake up. But I do want to give it to you.”

Tim-Cat accepts it, claws wrapping around the grip. As Jason lets go, the vorpal gun morphs again, this time into a long, slender staff that is all too familiar. “Thank you for returning this to us, Jason. My queen appreciates your efforts.”

The words are stiffly formal, but Jason is fluent in Tim-speak and knows that look behind those eyes, even slitted as they are. “And you? Do you still think I’m an asshole?”

Those luminescent orbs blink wetly before Tim-Cat slinks forward and wraps his arms around Jason’s neck. “Of course, you are. We wouldn’t love you like we do if you weren’t.”

Warm lips press against his, hot and hungry. Then, in the blink of an eye, the Cheshire Cat and the vorpal staff disappear.

Tim arches an eyebrow. “Something you want to tell me?”

Jason runs a hand through his hair, already feeling like more than a little bit of a tool for what he did with Tim-Cat, even if this is all simply an incredibly vivid and realistic dream. “Yeah, but after we wake up. How’s that supposed to work anyway?”

The lizard’s ruby eyes blaze in sudden fire. “All you have to do is want to. I will take care of the rest.”

After the last couple of days Jason has had, a telepathic lizard is the least of his concerns. He reaches for Tim’s hand and clasps it firmly. “Oh, I definitely believe it’s time for me to wake the fuck up. Do I need to click my heels three times? Say there’s no place like home?”

Tim shoves a bony elbow into his side. “Wrong story, Jay.”

“Do you have any idea how many genres I’ve been crossing since I woke up in here?”

“Tell me when we’re awake.”

Jason winks at him as darkness begins to fall around the edge of his vision. “As you wish.”

~*~*~

It doesn’t take long after Jason emerges from his slumber to wish he were unconscious again. “For the last fucking time, Dickie, I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”

Dick heaves a massive sigh and glares. “If you don’t tell me, then Bruce will get all up in your face about what happened for his report. Do you really want that?”

Jason scowls because of course he doesn’t want that. At the same time, he doesn’t want to tell Dickface either, so he settles on the happy medium. “Some of the things that happened in there are a little too personal and I need some time to process before I even contemplate telling another person.”

The frustration on Dick’s face eases at the surprisingly honest answer. “You’re lucky Bruce went with J’onn to Gotham General.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Jason sits up in the bed he and Tim share when they have to stay at the Manor for some reason or other. It’s rare they ever do together, but Alfred has put his foot down, so there’s no escaping tonight. Today. Whatever the hell the time is. His internal clock is all kinds of jacked up. “Look, there’s a lot of shit in my head that I try not to think about on the regular, but this dream hallucination brought most of it back to the surface. The last thing I need is Bruce breathing down my neck.”

Dick nods, rising from the chair he’d moved to the side of the bed upon entering the room earlier. “I can respect that. And I’ll make sure he does too. Just… try not to run away too soon? You scared the crap out of everyone, so at the very least, you can cut Alfred some slack and let him fuss over you.”

“I think I can deal with that for a day.” He’s already eaten a plateful of fresh cookies, his favorite ones too.

“Good. I’ll handle Bruce then. Get some rest, Little Wing. You haven’t been sleeping well.” Dick winks and escapes from the room before the pillow Jason throws at him manages to hit the back of his head.

“And people say I’m the asshole.” Jason sighs and wonders if he can convince Tim to pick up the pillow when he gets out of the shower. He’d do it, but he’s on strict orders from Alfred to stay on bedrest after he’d fallen down in the Cave when his legs gave out on him as he got up from the hospital gurney. Not exactly his best moment.

Even if it did earn him a sponge bath from Tim when they made it upstairs. He aches for a normal shower, but he’s still feeling shaky, so that’s not a good idea. Slipping on wet tile and cracking his skull is a rather ignominious ending. When he kicks the bucket a second time, he wants to go out in a roaring fury, staring death in the face while he does something awesome.

Like saving the world. That’s so much better than last time.

Although, he’ll also settle for simple falling asleep and never waking up again, preferably after having lived a long and full second life with Tim by his side.

Yeah, that sounds a lot better.

Jason dutifully sips at the hot tea the old butler left for him and settles back into the mountain of other pillows that adorn the bed. It’s easy to say Tim is the pillow monster, but really, it’s him.

“Did Dick leave on his own or did you throw him out?” Tim asks, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and using another to dry his hair.

“I fed him a few lines and convinced him to exit stage left.” Jason takes another sip.

“Are you tired?” Tim opens a dresser drawer to remove a clean pair of boxers and some pajama pants. Both towels fall to the floor and Jason is momentarily distracted by all the bare skin before it gets hidden away again.

“Yes and no?” He knows better than to try and evade Tim. “Just have a lot to think about.”

“I’d say so.” Tim picks up the towels and disappears back into the bathroom to hang them up, then joins him in the large bed.

He either doesn’t see the pillow by the door or doesn’t care.

Once he settles in, Jason wraps an arm around him, breathing in the scent of Tim’s hair. It soothes raw nerves in ways that it has no right to, better than anything really, including the good drugs or the hard booze.

“Do you think it worked?” Tim asks, idly drawing circles on Jason’s bare chest with the tip of a finger. “Killing the Jokerwocky, I mean.”

Jason shrugs and doesn’t move. “Dunno. It sure as hell felt good. Still don’t think I’ll ever be okay around crowbars though.”

Tim shifts around in the bed, sitting up and gazing thoughtfully at him. “That’s what you dream about with the Joker, isn’t it? Him and the crowbar standing over you, wet with your own blood?”

He doesn’t want to face those knowing eyes. He’s already dealt with one traumatic event today, it’ll be awhile before he’s ready for another. “Yeah,” is all he offers in reply.

“Were we all in your dream?” Tim asks, taking another track, one that Jason is quietly grateful for. “I had no idea I could pull off the cat look so well.”

Jason laughs and tugs Tim down into the bed so they can better wrap around each other. “Everyone I care about was in there.” He tells him about Tweedle Dick and Damian, which has Tim in stitches in no time flat. About Cass the butterfly, Steph the White Rabbit, and Babs the White Queen. “Honestly though? I about lost my shit when I met Mad Hatter Brucie and Alfred the March Hare. If facing the Jabberwocky was about me and my worst nightmares, then seeing Alfred with bunny ears and a little cotton ball tail was enough to make me want to sign myself into Arkham and never come back out.”

Tim smacks him lightly. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“What? You didn’t see him!”

“Tell me more about the Cheshire Cat.” Tim rolls over and props himself up, chin resting on his hands. “You can’t tell me you didn’t find that version of me attractive.”

There’s a glint in his eye that tells Jason he knows more than he’s letting on. Shit. He’s in so much trouble. “Yeah, about that… Did you know that dream you really likes having his ears scratched?”

“Oh, so does that mean he discovered how much you enjoy having your belly rubbed?”

[dramaticwrites]

Mood Rings (4/6)

Title: Mood Rings

Chapter: 4/6

Fandom: DCU

Pairing:  Jason Todd/Roy Harper

AO3:  HERE

Note: Oh wow it took me less than a year to post this...I’m getting better at this.  Also note I even have the rest figure out.  Though there may or may not be a follow up. 

Summary:  Jason just wanted to eat some cereal not explain to a grown man that a mood ring is not an engagement ring.  

“You know,” Roy said, his head rolling over to look at Jason.  “I’m kinda thinking maybe we should get a wedding singer for our wedding.  Do you think we can get one that looks like Adam Sandler?”

It was Friday night, and for some odd reason that had become movie night for Roy and Jason.  Jason wasn’t even sure when they started the tradition or when he started to actually look forward to their quiet Friday night tradition.  It wasn’t even a causal enjoyment but rather something that he looked forward to all week.  Usually if he was in charge of picking the movies he would spend all week thinking of what horror, and he did mean horror, he was going to put Roy through that week.  If he was in charge of picking out the food he would go back and forth about where to get take out from and always planned on getting some sweet treat that he would pretend he just casually saw on the way home and absolutely did not order in advance.

This Friday it as Jason’s turn to bring the takeout, in this case tacos with tres leche cake from the new bakery on the corner that Roy keep talking about trying.  They had spread a large blanket across the floor of the living room and stacked pillows against the couch as almost a makeshift picnic.  In the middle of the blanket was Jason’s seriously outdated laptop that Tim begged him to let him upgrade every single time he stopped by.  But they had Roy’s larger desktop that they used for actual work, the laptop was more for watching stupid animal videos on nights where both of them were too caffeinated to actually sleep.

“Remind me again why we are having movie night on the floor with a laptop instead of on the couch with the TV?”  Jason asked as he poured some more salsa on his taco.  

“Don’t you remember last Sunday you knocked it over and snapped the cord?”  Roy remind him, entering the room with a rather large stack of movies.

“I thought you were going to fix it?”  Jason said as Roy sat down spreading out his collection of movies next to him.

Roy laughed. “I’m so glad you have total faith in my handy man abilities, I know that’s why you’re marrying me.”  Jason gave him a pointed look, which just made Roy laugh harder.  It wasn’t worth his breath to remind him they were engaged every time he brought it up.  “But no, I was busy picking out the movies for this week.  So we will have to do this the old fashioned way.”

“I’m pretty sure the TV is the old fashioned way,”  Jason reminded him.  “So if it took you all week does that mean you came up with something that would top my night of The Room and The Disaster Artist?”  That was a night Jason was quite proud of, awful movies that Roy and him spent the whole time mocking ruthlessly.

Giving a small bow of his head, “I will never be able to beat your mastery”  Roy conceded.  “But I offer you a choice of five movies.”  

“I get a choice?”  Jason asked, narrowing his eyes, “Why?  What’s the catch?”

“You brought me cake?”  Roy responded with more of a question.  “I thought it would be fun?  I love you?  Take your pick.”

Jason rolled his eyes at Roy, “What are my options?”

“Okay so here we go.”  He said gleefully spreading out five boxes before him.  “We got Wedding Crashers, Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates, Four Weddings and a Funeral, The Wedding Singer, and My Big Fat Greek Wedding.”

Jason let out a groan.  He should have known there would be a catch.  “Do you have anything without the word ‘wedding’ in it.”  Spitting out wedding like it was a curse word, and not one of the fun ones like fuck or shit.

“Nope.”  Roy said far too cheerfully for someone who ruined Jason’s favorite night of the week.  

It was a toss up between trying to out stubborn Roy by being silent or picking a movie and getting it over with.  It was times like these Jason really hated that Roy was almost as much of a stubborn bastard as him.  “Fine.” Jason said drawing it out.  “I guess The Wedding Singer.”  

It was also times like these Jason really wanted to hit the smug grin off his face as he put in the movie.  “You know I didn’t expect you to go for the down right romantic comedy.  I like seeing this side of you.”

“Next week I’m renting the Human Centipede and I’m going to lock my door that night so you can suffer.”  Jason swore but there was very little heat behind the words.  Roy could easily take off his door in the dark, or at least that's the excuse Jason would give when he didn’t lock his door because the Human Centipede thing was definitely happening.

“Whatever you say Jaybird.” Roy said, as he put the movie in and leaned over Jason to grab a taco.  “For now we have a night of lovely wedding movies to watch.”

Four tacos later and an hour later, the two had moved onto the cake.  Not bothering to actually cut it, the two each just casually dipped their fork into the giant cake between the two of them.  It saved time on dishes, or at least that was Roy’s suggestion and after all the tacos it didn’t sound bad.

“You know,” Roy said, his head rolling over to look at Jason.  “I’m kinda thinking maybe we should get a wedding singer for our wedding.  Do you think we can get one that looks like Adam Sandler?”

“No,”  Jason said plainly before turning back to the movie.

“I guess they don’t have to look like Adam Sandler.”  Roy mused.  

“We are not hiring a wedding singer because we’re not getting married.”  Jason said not taking his eyes off the movie.  “Maybe if you’re nice and stop mentioning this wedding stuff I’ll get you one for your birthday.”  

“Absolutely not.”  Roy said, putting his hand to his chest.  “I mean I think a wedding singer would be funny but if you want a DJ I’m okay with that too.  After all, it is your wedding too.”  

“No its not.”  Jason said firmly.

“Sure it is.”  Roy said leaning into Jason, resting his head on his shoulder and looking up with a shit eating grin.  “After all, all I care about is marrying you.  I’d be find doing it in a dump with seagulls as our witnesses.”

“Keep holding your breath.”  Jason muttered, trying to shrug Roy off his shoulder only to have it come back like a boomerang.  After a second attempt he figured it wasn’t worth the effort.  

As the movie got near the end  Jason felt like adding.  “Shit like this is why you’re better off with a DJ.”  

“Then we will get a DJ.”  Roy hummed, his eyes closed as he leaned against Jason’s arm.  

“We’re not getting married.”  Jason reminded him.

“Tell that to the DJ I’m hiring.”  Roy teased followed by a groan.  Roy was definitely going to be subjected to Human Centipede need week.  Maybe he could convince Roy to invite Dick to join them, it would look less suspicious if Roy did the inviting.