#to anyone who says tim is yellow & damian is green: you’re wrong actually! tim has never been yellow

[scarlet-herring]

love how all of the bats have like, a ‘color’ that’s theirs.

- babs: indigo

- dick: blue

- cass: black

- jason: red / green

- steph: purple

- tim: green / red

- duke: yellow

- damian: grey

they’re pretty consistently associated w a couple of colors even though there’s some crossover like with babs’ indigo/purple & yellow and steph’s purple & black, dick & harper with blue, b with black, kate with white & red, and tim and jason being alternatively red & green depending on timeline & timing & group teammates & all, but it’s still very interesting color coding

[unavenged-robin]

“Shh, it’s okay.” with Jason and Damian (I just really want to read more brotherly bonding)

I’m obviously unable to write drabble, I hope you don’t mind. Also I apparently have a thing for these two + parental issues.

Read on AO3

He comes down on him out of nowhere, a shadow among many others, betrayed only by the briefest reflections of the street lamps on his steel blade.

And, well, Jason would love to say that it’s the first time it happens but he’s actually lost count on how many times Damian attacked him for little or no reason.

That’s why it takes him a bit too long to realize something’s wrong.

On instinct Jason dodges, blocks the first blow with one hand, grabs the kid’s leg with the other, and then sends him flying across the alley and on a pile of garbage cans. He’s not gentle about it. Hell, why would he be?

The first red flag is the complete lack of insults, something that coming from Damian would be worrisome on most days, but even more right now, because if the brat’s attacking him it means that he’s angry at him, and an angry Damian is not a silent Damian. Ever.

Then the kid gets up with a catlike move, sword still in his hand, and Jason gets to actually look at him. Robin’s costume is red flag number two. Ripped and slashed in more places that Jason can count, it tells him that this is not a temper tantrum or a sibling’s spat, that this fight started somewhere else and wasn’t supposed to end here.

“Just my kind of luck, eh brat?”, he mutters without too much resentment while Damian slowly gets closer. Jason, on the contrary, draws back towards the main street and its lights, knowing that Damian will silently follow. In the yellow lights the blood on his face looks brown, almost like chocolate stains.

Robin’s domino mask is torn as well, and the kid’s eyes are flag number three. Wide open and empty, pupils blown and unfocused, they look like glass, like doll’s eyes. There’s no recognition there, no emotion, no self awareness.

“Damian?”, he tries anyway, so that once this goes wrong like it’s so obviously going to be he’ll at least be able to say hey, I tried. “Damian, can you do me a favor and snap out of whatever the hell this is? It would be a nice plot twist for once, you know? What do you say?”

Damian says nothing. He just charges at him, silent and dispassionate and deadly as ever. And usually Jason has no problems at all with taking down the kid to teach him some manners, but that’s because usually Damian deserves it. This, however, feels like something that he’s going to be very uncomfortable with later. Still, he’s not going to lose a limb over it. He figures once this is over he’ll just get Damian a new cat, maybe help him lock Tim in a closet or something like that. For now, he pulls out his guns.

He knows how Damian moves, knows how he fights better than anyone else. He can tell the League’s training from Batman’s, Talia’s influence from Bruce’s, even spot the little stunts Nightwing transferred on the kid. So he lets Damian come to him, and he shoots where he knows his feet are going to be, forcing the kid to adjust, making him lose his balance. It’s a dirty trick, but an effective one at that.

When Damian attacks he’s unbalanced, the angle of the sword’s completely wrong. It still hits him, but the sharp edge barely scratches the kevlar of his costume before getting caught into his jacket. Jason immediately takes advantage of it by letting go one of his gun to wrap an arm around Damian’s throat.

Choking a kid is no fun, that’s for sure. While he squeezes Jason mentally adds some ice cream to the list of things he’ll get the kid to quieten both Damian’s anger and his own new found conscience. It’s not like the brat’s going to be able to eat anything else for a couple of days. Personal experience.

In the meanwhile Damian quite literally fights him tooth and nail, which it makes the whole thing a lot worse than it needs to be but, at least, somewhat faster. Definitely not fun, though. He waits for the kid to go still, then waits a thirty seconds more because Damian knows some dirty tricks of his own, and finally he plops down on the ground, cradling the unconscious child on his lap.

He removes his helmet and his gauntlets, then quickly checks Damian’s vital signs. Shallow breath and rabbitlike heartbeat, cold skin and glass eyes. There are cuts almost everywhere on him, but they’re all superficial. It’s not good, but it’s not critical either. And no signs at all of who or what did this to him in the first place, or what exactly this is.

Scarecrow is a good bet as any, but even if it’s the winning one there’s little Jason can do without a blood test.

So he stands up, carefully throws the brat over his shoulder and taps on his comm with a weary sigh.

-

He ends up staying the night. Or, at least, a good part of it.

He’s ready to adduce his presence to wanting to know whose brilliant idea it was to send a kid - this kid - after him, but Alfred’s the only one home and Jason knows better than fooling around with him.

So he says nothing and just sticks around the cave, drinking tea and chatting with the old butler while they both keep an eye on the medbay, waiting for Damian to wake up and tell them what the hell happened out there.

It takes four hours, six cups of tea and three losing hands of poker (never play poker with an english butler if you like your money, Jason learns) but eventually Damian jolts awake with a gasp, and before Jason or Alfred even have the time to stand up, the kid rolls off the bed and sprints towards the farther side of the room.

He stays there while they walk in, back against the wall, sweaty hair and skin as pale as the bandages that cover most of his body. The only color on him are purple bruises the size of Jason’s fingerprints on his throat and overall it’s not a pretty picture at all.

“Shh, it’s okay”, Jason hums anyway, walking closer to the kid and holding up both of his hands in front of him. “You’re home, you’re safe. Everything’s fine.”

Damian doesn’t believe him right away, but Jason can be patient when patience is required. He crouches down in front of his brother, elbows on his thighs, hands hanging between them and in plain view.

“Do you remember what happened, Master Damian?”, Alfred asks from behind Jason, and Damian immediately looks up at him. Incidentally, it’s also when he actually starts to relax.

“Pennyworth”, Damian exhales in what is definitely relief, and Jason has this funny feeling that if he weren’t here, the kid would all but run into his grandfather’s arms. It’s a nice feeling, only a little sad.

“Damian?”, he calls him again, and Damian’s eyes instantly shift back on Jason. They’re back to their usual green now, reddish around the edges but awake and attentive, and Jason’s doesn’t have to repeat the question, because he can practically see by the frown on Damian’s face that he’s doing his better to force his mind to remember.

A few heartbeats go by and then it’s just right there, all over the kid’s face, remembrance and realization and…

Hurt?

Jason grimaces and reaches out for him.

“Look kid, I’m sorry I had to choke you but-”

Damian swats his hand away and shakes his head.

“No.”

“No?”, Jason asks, confused. “No what?”

Damian looks from him to Alfred and then back at him. He looks like he’s still trying to shake himself awake from the leftovers of a nightmare that doesn’t want to end.

“Mother- Talia”, he corrects himself, and his voice sounds strangled and soft, and Jason’s not so sure the reason are solely the bruises on his neck. “Talia’s here.”

Hurt’s now gone from his face, but quickly replaced with anger and guilt, and his gaze darts again between Alfred and Jason.

“I don’t know how she did it this time, I-”, he tells to the butler and Jason looks over his shoulder to see the spark of understanding on Alfred’s face.

“I apologize”, the kid finishes, and this is actually aimed at Jason, who turns his head again to stare at his little brother’s round eyes.

His knees are starting to hurt - crouching position not being very gentle on already tired joints apparently - so Jason sits on the floor and for once lets Damian looks down at him.

“Okay”, he concedes with a sigh. “Okay. What the fuck again?”

“Miss Al Ghul”, Alfred interjects, and never a title meant to be used as a sign of respect has ever sounded more like “bitch” than the actual word itself. “Once implanted a device in Master Damian’s spine to control his body and force him to attack Batman. That would’ve been Master Richard at the time, of course.”

“Of course”, Jason repeats. And then he realizes. “Oh.”

“My spine is fine now”, Damian says defensively, before Jason can even open his mouth to ask. “Pennyworth and Grayson and then even Father checked all my internal organs.”

“Of course”, Jason says again. “Because that’s the kind of thing we do in this household, we check our children’s internal organs for mind-control devices.”

“And for bombs”, Damian adds. “And I’m not a child, let alone yours.”

He’s sounding more like himself, at least.

“Of cour- Sure”, Jason rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “So what happened tonight? What do you remember?”

“Not much”, Damian answers after a moment. “She was waiting for me on my patrol route. She wasn’t happy. We fought. Then I was in Crime Alley, stabbing you.”

“Trying to stab me”, Jason corrects with a little smug grin that surely enough doesn’t go unnoticed by the kid, who just stares murderously at him. “Why did she send you after me?”

Damian frowns. Shakes his head, bites his bottom lip.

“I don’t know.”

Alfred coughs politely behind his hand - because scoffing is quite obviously beneath him.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire”, Jason singsongs on his part.

Damian has the good grace to blush a little, but the deep frown on his face announces only stubborn resistance.

“It doesn’t matter”, he states. “Because I’m going to deal with her and make sure that this never happens again.”

“That would be auspicable”, Alfred agrees.

“You tell me”, Jason retorts, and the tips of the kid’s ears turn a deeper pink.

“I’m not going to apologize again for tonight, Todd”, Damian declares, disproving himself just by bringing up his apologies again.

And Jason could tease the hell out of him for it, but, well.

“Me neither, brat”, he only answers.

Damian looks confused for a moment, like he doesn’t have a clue about when and why Jason did or would ever apologize to him, but then he tilts his head to the side and remembers right away. Carefully rubbing the bruises along his neck with his fingertips, he shoots Jason one of his trademarked haughty looks.

“I ought to make you pay for these”, he grumbles.

Jason reaches out for his hand and holds it still in his own to stop the kid from picking at the swollen skin.

“Yeah, maybe you ought to”, he agrees. “I’ll give you a rematch once I’m sure you won’t go all Chucky on me.”

Damian frowns again.

“Who’s Chucky?”

Jason grins easily for the first time that night.

“A character in the next movie we’re gonna watch.”

Alfred coughs again, almost challenging, and Jason immediately drops the subject.

“I believe we should have some more tests performed upon you, Master Damian”, Alfred suggests in that tone he uses when he’s actually ordering them around. “And since you don’t remember, ah, much, about the whole night, maybe you can start look into your father’s archives for any means capable of taking away one’s control of his own body.”

Jason kind of admires Alfred’s ability to chastise in such a polite fashion. Damian only bows his head a little and starts walking towards the computer console, knowing that their discussion is far from over. Jason hesitates for a moment, then lets him go and gets up from the floor.

“I’m going to find Talia and have a chat with her about this”, he informs Alfred once Damian’s out of hearing range. “You keep him here for a while, okay?”

Alfred gives him a thoughtful look, then slightly nods.

“Be careful, Jason”, it’s the only thing he allows himself to say, and Jason smiles at him.

“Sure thing, grandpa”, he jokes, before collecting his helmet and the keys to his bike.

He turns around just before heading out of the cave, only to found Alfred’s eyes firmly set on him.

“And another thing”, he adds as an afterthought. “I know it’s the middle of the night and you firmly believe that it gives nightmare if you eat it before bedtime, but still, can you give the kid a big bowl of ice cream before sending him to bed? Just consider it a favor to me, yeah?”

And if not for anything else, at least Jason will remember tonight as one of the few times of his life he actually managed to leave Alfred speechless.