#the answer is he snuck it in | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladytauria · 1 year ago

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Would you consider writing 13 and/or 18 from the prompt list for jaytim?

i would!! <3

i wrote them both bc i thought they worked very well together, though. i did change the wording of the second prompt to make it fit. (it is still bolded tho.)

i went through… 3 or 4 different concepts for this fic before i finally settled on reverse robins, bc i have been thinking about another reverse robins au (i blame @bi-bats). this is not that au, but instead a different one which ran away with me as soon as i got into the flow of writing it <3

there is also a part in it that is inspired by something @deepwithintheabyss said in a chat once. (which i’ll clarify in the tags & end notes on ao3 lol).

ANYWAY. this is more in the gen/pre-slash vein as it technically covers tim & jason’s first time actually meeting / speaking to each other, &. as it ran away with me the way it did, probably kind of messy? ^^; but i hope you like it, nonny, & thank you very much for the prompt!

It isn’t very often that Tim comes across Robin. Both Batman and Nightwing do their best to keep them separate and—so far at least—the little Robin hasn’t made an attempt to circumvent their efforts. Except tonight, though he has a feeling that the little bird didn’t necessarily mean for their paths to cross.

He’s sitting in an alley; canary yellow cape wrapped around his body. Tim drops, silent, from the roof, landing six feet from him. This close, he can see the tremors wracking his frame.

“Robin,” he says.

Robin flinches, hard; nearly smacking his head back against the brick. Guilt rises in Tim’s throat. There are shiny tears trailing down his cheeks, though the white-outs of his domino are still down. Tim feels the moment Jason’s eyes lock on him.

He immediately shifts into a non-threatening stance. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, holding up his hands, fingers spread wide.

“Hood?” Robin’s voice wobbles.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he says; crouching down to Robin’s level. “Are you alright?” There’s a mild strain of fear toxin being sold right now. Tim’s been working on tracking down the source, but so far, all of his leads have led him to dead ends. Could Robin have been hit with a dose? That would explain his upset—maybe the lack of Batman, too.

Robin shivers. He draws his cape tighter around him. He shakes his head—though whether in answer or not Tim couldn’t say. He buries his face in his knees again, muffling a soft sob.

Tim’s chest twists. “Do you want me to call—”

Robin’s head jerks up again. “No!” he says, immediately, the desperation in his voice nearly knocking Tim back. “Please, please don’t—”

“Okay,” Tim says, gentling his voice. He doubts it does much with the voice modulator in the way. “Okay, I won’t call anyone.” He bites his lip. He can’t leave him here. Whatever’s happened, whether it’s fear toxin or not, it’s affected him deeply. “Do you feel safe enough to come with me?” He offers his hand.

Robin stares at it, biting his lip. Then he nods, taking Tim’s hand. His grip is tight—almost too much so.

They rise to their feet together.

“I’ll call my bike,” Tim says, still in that gentle tone. “Do you think you can hold on?” The hand not holding Tim’s is still clutching his cape, holding it around himself. He’s still shivering. Even the fingers in Tim’s hand are trembling.

Robin nods. “Y-yeah.”

He gives his hand a squeeze. He hopes it’s reassuring. Then he pulls out his keys and presses the button that will summon his bike to them. It takes less than ten minutes for it to roll up to the mouth of the alley. Robin finally lets go of his hand when he goes to climb on the bike. As soon as Tim is settled, he climbs on behind him; his arms snug around Tim’s waist, his front plastered against Tim’s back.

Tim drives. Not to his Nest, but to one of the well-equipped safehouses he has on this end of the Narrows. As soon as they’re off the bike, Robin drifts close to him again; so close their arms are almost brushing. He walks them around to the alley. He offers an arm to Robin automatically, and though Robin’s own grappling hook—and the spare—sits on his hip, he steps into Tim’s arm, against his chest.

Tim is not a tall man. Despite that, and the fact that there are only three years between them, Robin barely comes up to his shoulder. Tim secures his grip on him, holding him close, and grapples up the fire escape.

When they land, Robin doesn’t move; staying pressed against Tim’s side, his forehead pressed to his shoulder. Tim doesn’t make him move. It’s easy enough to wrap both arms around him, let him stand within the circle of them as he disengages the security on the window.

Then he nudges him. “C’mon, Robin. Let’s get inside.”

A beat passes before Robin moves. Tim follows right behind him, re-engaging his security after he shuts the window. He pulls off his helmet with a soft, mechanical hiss, letting it dangle from his fingers. Robin has pulled his cape around him again. He stands, something almost unsure in the stance of his body.

“C’mon,” Tim says, laying a gentle hand on Robin’s back. He leans into it, but doesn’t resist when he walks them forward, until they reach the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us something to drink.” Something warm, preferably, but even just water or a sports drink would suffice.

Then he’ll get to the bottom of whatever’s going on here.

He finds some tea; one of the few herbal blends he keeps. He brews two cups. While he waits, he takes off his domino, gloves, and the most prominent of his weapons. Then he takes the cups to the living room. Like Tim, Robin has removed his gloves and domino, alongside his boots and gloves, leaving Jason Wayne sitting on his couch. His cape is wrapped around him again, and he’s tucked all of his limbs into it, curling into a ball so small he takes up only one of the couch cushions.

Tim’s chest pangs.

“Here,” he says, offering Jason the cup.

Jason takes it, both hands curling around it and pulling it to his chest. His eyes are rimmed with red.

Tim hesitates a moment—and then sits right next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Jason melts into his side.

“Sorry,” he says softly.

“For what?” Tim asks, stroking Jason’s bicep with his thumb.

“Being difficult. I didn’t— I know you’d rather have called someone. I. I promise I won’t stay for long.”

Tim turns his head, tucking his nose into Jason’s curls. It’s not the most pleasant of smells—he smells like sweat, like Gotham night air. Under that, there’s a hint of soap. “You’re not being difficult, Jason,” he says gently, carefully. “And you can stay for as long as you need.”

Jason exhales slowly. “Thanks,” he says.

He doesn’t sound convinced. Tim tightens his arm. “I mean it. It’s not… I don’t mind having you here.” He doesn’t. He may not be on the best terms with the bats, but that animosity, that strain, doesn’t extend to Jason. He may not be happy that some other kid took on the cape he died in, but he could acknowledge that Bruce and Damian had learned from their mistakes. Jason patrolled far less than Tim ever had, and almost never on his own. He was kept away from the worst of the rogues, too. Most of his life was focused on the non-cape side of things; school and hobbies and friends, and, recently, working with the Martha Wayne Foundation.

Tim would have despised it.

Jason thrives.

And Tim admires what he’s accomplished. He’s a good Robin. A good person. The only reason he’s never reached out—

Well. Bruce and Damian barely tolerate his presence, reaching out only when there’s no other choice. Cass— He’s not sure she’ll ever forgive him for choosing this path. His relationships with Steph and Alfred may be fine, but the other three could easily make things difficult, and— Honestly. He has no idea what Jason has been told about him.

The way he’s curled against him suggests it may not be all bad.

There’s also his philosophy on vigilantism. He’s chosen a different path than the others; a path with far more blood and violence. It’s no secret that Jason has fought with Bruce about methodology before, and Tim— As tempting as it is, sometimes, to steal Batman’s partner right out from under him… Tim won’t make that worse. Spending time with him could very well fan those flames higher.

He’s not going to explain all of that right now. Or maybe ever. Instead he says, “My problems with Damian and Bruce have nothing to do with you. They would probably rather you avoid me—and that’s fine—but… you’re not unwelcome in my territory, or my safehouses,” he says. “If you need a place to go, back-up—you can call me.” He pauses. “And that goes for civilian life too. You need me, you call. I’ll answer.”

Jason twists. He presses his face against Tim’s shoulder. It can’t be comfortable—he’s still wearing his armor, a sturdy kevlar-weave. “Thanks,” he says, and his voice is watery again.

Tim moves his hand to cup the back of his head. He kisses Jason’s crown.

They stay like that until Jason pulls away.

By now the tea has cooled. When his cup is about half gone, he asks, “Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”

Jason bites his lip and shrugs. “I dunno. A lot,” he says, quietly. “Bruce an’ I are fighting again. About my mom.”

Tim hums. Steph has complained to him about Sheila Haywood more than once. He’s never met the woman himself, but from everything he’s heard—and looked into—he’s… not impressed, to put it mildly. “Sounds stressful,” he says.

“Yeah. He thinks— He says she’s taking advantage.” Jason sounds disgusted. “But— He doesn’t get it. She’s had a hard life. The system fucked her over, and she didn’t have the money to fight it. She just needs a little help, that’s all, and—” He cuts himself off. “I just wanna help her. Like I couldn’t help my other mom, the one that raised me. An’ it’s just— Every time I bring her up now, Bruce gets this pinched look on his face. Damian’s no help. Steph’s no help. Even Cass isn’t any help! I just— It sucks. An’ we fought about it again today.

“So I— Tonight, I told him I wanted to patrol on my own. Clear my head. ‘Cause he said I could now. An’ it was fine, it went fine, until. There was this robbery, an’ I guess— I guess they had that new fear toxin— an’... I just…

“What if he gets tired of fighting? What if— What if he— What if he decides that he doesn’t— My mom can’t. She can’t afford a kid right now, an’ I— Damian— He’s in this too, and Steph, an’—” He’s working himself up now, voice cracked and wavering, little hitching sobs threatening to burst with every word.

Tim puts his mug down—takes Jason’s, too. Jason lets it go without a fight. Then he pulls him into a hug; tight and all-encompassing, like he can shield him from all the hurt he’s feeling. “Bruce will never kick you out,” he says, voice quiet and sure. “He gave you his name, he signed the papers. You're his now, permanently. He’s not going to go back on that. It’s the same with Damian. You’re family to him now, and Damian— If he’s nothing else, he’s loyal to his bones. Steph adores you. Cass does too. Fighting— It’s not going to change that.” He pauses. “But if I’m wrong. If they kick you out, or— If you just can’t stay there anymore—

“You have a place with me.”

Jason sobs, then.

Tim holds him.

He’ll keep holding him—as long as he needs.

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mystiika · 6 months ago

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@brxkenbeta asked: you have a bad habit of acting a fool and calling it heroic. - to Isaac from Cora! meme: no light without darkness sentence starters

it stings a bit. even if its true, his foolishness only ever came about from him doing his best ( more often than not in an effort not to lose anyone else ). & frankly, he was a fool. a fool for stepping into this world assuming it would be safer for him than life with his father. a fool for becoming so emotionally invested every time something happens, despite his best efforts. & perhaps he seemed a fool this time too, but it had been a gut reaction to throw allison aside. electricity was a weakness of his, that much he knew, but in that moment it didn't seem to matter.

❝ what was a supposed to do then? she could have died. ❞ he attempts to shift, wincing & sucking air in through his teeth. he was awake now ( both a blessing & a curse, really ). it meant that his healing had finally started properly but now he was left to deal with the rather excruciating pain of his still 3rd degree burns. ❝ i mean... that ambulance driver died. i think the other lady is okay for now but i don't think i could have forgiven myself if i saw what was going on & still let allison walk into that water. ❞

he'd done his best to restrain his strength so she didn't get injured when she fell either, but that split second decision left him to stumble a step forward — & now here he was. he'd heard from one of the nurses that allison had stayed outside his room all night & day at first but that she wasn't allowed in because she wasn't family — a fact that pained him deeply knowing the policy but feeling like when a person has none, exceptions could ( or rather should ) be made. he hadn't been able to see her since he'd woken up either. or anyone really. cora was the first nonmedical-fielded face he'd laid his eyes on since then. as far as he knew, cora was the first person who'd been able to sneak in to see him at all. honestly, it was a relief to see one of his friends ( if cora could be called as such, as much as he'd like to think so ).

❝ thanks for coming, but did you come just to insult me? ❞ he hopes not, perhaps even desperately given when he's feeling as isolated as he was. he's got a lot of anxiety thinking about how he's stuck there while everyone else is doing their best to win the fight, & with no one around he's been left to stew in his thoughts so much he wonders if she can see his tiredness ( even if she attributes it to his injuries ). ❝ & uh... sorry but could you get me some water? ❞ he feels bad asking but talking seems to have left his throat uncomfortably dry. there's a cup on the tray to his left, too, so she wouldn't need to go looking for that much at least.

#set somewhere between 3x19 when he saves allison from being electrocuted #and 3x22 when he's possessed by the nogitsune's bug #this is assuming cora snuck in maybe also with melissa's help but that's neither here nor there #brxkenbeta #asks — you have a question & i have an answer #i. lahey. v. 2 — waiting for something good to happen ( s1‚ s2‚ s3‚ s4 )

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