#with alfred and bruce supplying the cleaning stuff and the company

[castillon02]

When Jason starts to prioritize cooperation as well as vengeance, Tim suspects Jason's self-control still isn't that great. Since he's Tim, well...

He conducts some tests.

Hood is about to murder someone that they need information from when Tim calls out, "Hey, Hood, has anyone ever told you that you're a Decepticon wannabe who probably fucks himself to the sound of his own robot voice?"

Hood stills.

The drug dealer who sold tenth-grader Benny Garcia fentanyl gapes in a way that shows off his recently-missing teeth.

Hood drops the dealer in a heap and turns his shitkicker combat boots in Tim's direction.

Tim bolts. Batman will swoop in to continue the dealer's interrogation; he and Hood have figured out a good-cop-bad-cop thing, though Batman still seems bemused about the chance to be 'good cop.'

Hood races after him.

---

Tim makes it to a safe house off of Robinson Park. He probably lost Hood about half an hour ago, but it never hurts to be careful. Especially when---oh, shit.

"This place is filthy," Jason says, sitting on the kitchen counter that Tim never uses and looking with disdain at Tim's collection of empty energy drink cans, takeout boxes, and crime yarn. Jason's not wearing his helmet or domino, and he taps his boot heels softly against the cabinet door like a little kid. Not exactly danger signals.

But for a moment, all Tim can look at is the boots. It's stupid; the knife at his neck was closer to fatal. But the kicking had hurt the worst.

"Since you apparently have time to run your mouth," Jason says, "and since someone stole my target, it seems like we both have time to clean up in here. I went out and got trash bags." He nudges a box on the counter next to him. The trash bags are the sturdy kind, not the flimsy cheap kind or the extra-strength hide-the-body-parts kind.

Tim has been meaning to get trash bags for this place for three weeks. It's just that he doesn't visit often, and when he does it's usually when he's injured or tired, and he could get things delivered but that's a paper trail he could avoid if he just made time to visit the bodega down the street... "You're a trash bag," he says, even though it doesn't make sense.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Just for that, we're mopping the floor too. Luckily, I came prepared." He hops down from the counter and opens the little mystery closet next to the fridge. Inside: a broom, a Swiffer, a bucket, a pack of scrub brushes still in their plastic, and a jug of bleach.

Ohhh, that's why the closet is so narrow. It's supposed to hold cleaning supplies. Right. Tim definitely knew that. Tim definitely doesn't just have a roll of paper towels...somewhere...that he sometimes puts dish soap on.

He squints at Jason. Still no green danger-eyes. "Darcy and Elizabeth would never let you be part of a throuple with them," he tries.

Jason pulls out a trash bag. "They've got issues anyway."

"Helen Keller would make up new words so she could sign how ugly your face is."

"She was a socialist," Jason says. He holds the bag and gestures at Tim's kitchen table. "So we'd probably just talk about organizing the working class. I don't think looks would come into it. Also, way to be a dick."

"You're so pathetic that Jane Eyre would give up on you like she didn't give up on Rochester," Tim says, figuring he did the research for this attack, so he might as well use it.

Jason actually laughs a little bit. "First of all, there's a lot of power exchange going on in that decision, so jot that down," he says. "Second of all." He looks Tim in the face. "If I start to lose my temper, I'll leave, okay? Or you can just ask me to."

"Even if I asked right now?" Tim asks.

"Even if you asked right now," Jason confirms, though he eyeballs Tim's mess.

Jason's still holding the trash bag. Hands out, open body language, seemingly not homicidal.

Tim had planned for a lot of things with this encounter, including a body bag. Trash bags weren't one of his considered variables. He starts picking up empty cans. "This one can be for recycling," he says, dumping the cans into Jason's bag. New things from old materials. Jason likes that symbolism shit, right?

(Though...new things. Old materials. If there's anyone who ought to be good at that, it's someone who got raised from the dead.

Tim smirks and keeps the thought to himself. Operation: Limitless has been a startling success; he doesn't need to verbalize all his inside thoughts now.)

("Kid, I can tell you're thinking about a zombie joke," Jason says anyway. "You can only tell me after we've brought this shit-heap back to life.")

[vikingpoteto]

27, 9, pick any two bats

 To no one’s surprise I pick Jason and Tim + cleaning wounds + “Listen, I know it’s hard, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Red Robin looks around his kitchen and tries to list 5 things he can see. The pictures of his friends held by magnets on the fridge. The pile of dirty mugs in the sink. The unread papers spread on the table. The closed window. The trail of blood leading to the counter where he’s sitting. He makes a mental note to clean that up in the morning. Before that train of thought leads him somewhere else, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 4 things he can touch now. The leather of his cowl that he slowly peels away. The cold surface of the counter. The hard wall behind his back. The needle between his fingers. Another deep breath. 3 things he can hear. The clock ticking against the loud silence. Traffic and distant sirens. His mildly ragged breath. He opens his eyes, hoping he doesn’t have any cracked ribs. Another deep breath. He can smell antiseptic and also something coppery. He licks his lips. The one thing he can taste is the bitter pang from the antibiotics he took. 

Tim Drake glares at the needle. This isn’t the first time he had to stitch himself up. This isn’t the first time he had to take care of his own wounds. 

However, this is the first time he’s the one and only responsible for it. 

In another life, he would do a patch job, emergency stuff only, and then get to Alfred as soon as he could for a double check. In a time that felt like a dream now, he would have the latest health tech available and Cissie hovering over his bed while Cassie fussed about how he irresponsibly hurt himself, Bart made a joke out of everything and Conner, of all people, would be the one getting Tim proper care. Less than a month ago, the most deadly organization of the world was making sure Tim was getting the best care available. While his trembling fingers put the thread in the needle, he thinks of the almost healed scar from a damn splenectomy. He doesn’t know what Ra’s people had done to him, but he’s been recovering unnaturally fast, especially considering his immunity. 

Tim bites his tongue and looks down at his battered outfit. He could go to Leslie’s clinic. But it’d be stupid to go all the way there for a couple of bruises and a wound that would probably take less than five stitches. Tim could go to the cave, but… No. He puts the needle down and starts pulling his shirt out. He can’t completely muffle a pained groan and he hates the way it echoes in his empty kitchen. It’s been less than a week since he left Dick, Alfred and Damian. He’s an emancipated adult by all means. Bruce trained him to be independent. He can do this. 

Except… as soon as he reaches for the antiseptic, he hears a noise coming from the living room. Tim freezes. You’ve got to be kidding me. Of all the nights to have a robber breaking into his apartment, tonight? Did it have to be tonight? 

Painstakingly, he jumps to the floor and reaches for his staff. He has half a mind to get his cowl, but he thinks Tim Drake defending himself with what could’ve been a broomstick is easier to explain than Red Robin just hanging out at his place. If he’s lucky - and, after tonight, he feels like the universe owes him - he’ll knock out the robber before they see him. 

The most ridiculous thing about all this is that he feels like crying. He doesn’t know why. He barely remembers the last time he cried. Probably right before he realized Bruce could be alive. As much as he’s in pain now, this is no reason to cry like a baby. Especially not in front of a robber. 

Tim silently hides by the side of the fridge and listens. The person in his living room is good. He can barely hear their steps. He can tell there is only one of them, however, and, judging by the way the sound become louder, they’re coming towards the kitchen. Partly to focus on his hearing, partly to ignore the way his eyes are glazing over, he closes his eyes, listens and waits. He waits. He waits a little more.

Ignoring the way his muscles ache in protest, he swirls around and aims for the gut, hoping to knock the air out of the robber. Gloved hands grab his staff and the invader takes a step back before recovering his balance.

“Woah,” he says in a familiar voice, “easy there.”

Tim raises his gaze to face him. Red Hood lets go of the staff in order to remove the helmet, revealing Jason Todd’s frown. Tim feels his shoulders slumping.

“What the fuck, Jason?” Tim hisses. He feels his voice will break if he tries to speak up. 

“I should be the one asking that.” Jason puts his helmet aside. He takes one second glancing around until he finds Tim’s medical supplies. “Is this sanitary? Shouldn’t you be doing first aid in your high tech basement?”

He should. It would’ve been more practical than getting the whole first aid kit and bringing it up here. However, using his medical bay for the first time… It would make it all too real. Too definitive. Tim can’t tell Jason that.

“Medical bay isn’t finished. Kitchen or bathroom were my best options,” he lies.

“Hm,” Jason says as though he doesn’t believe him.

Tim could lie to Batman if he needed to, but, for some reason, Jason seems to always know the truth.

Without another word, Jason takes off his gloves and leather jacket. He drops them aside and walks to the sink. Tim doesn’t ask Jason how he knows where Tim lives - he won’t insult Jason’s detective abilities like that - but he does frown at the older boy as he strides through Tim’s kitchen like he owns the place. 

In fact, Tim doesn’t want to ask anything. He wants to scream at Jason to go away. He wants to lie down on the cold floor and not move for days. It’s comical in a twisted way that Tim had been just thinking longinly about the time in which he wasn’t alone, and, now that he has company, he wants nothing but to go back in time and hide inside the cupboard until Jason goes away. 

“What are you doing?” Tim croaks. 

“Washing my hands,” Jason says simply. He turns to Tim and waves at him to come closer.

It’s a testament to how miserable Tim feels that he does it without questioning. Jason arches an eyebrow at him and points at the counter where Tim had been sitting not long ago. Tim doesn’t move, even as Jason wipes his hands dry with paper towels and reaches for the hand sanitizer in Tim’s medical kit. 

“Jason,” Tim insists. “What are you doing?”

Jason sighs. “One of my guys told me this new vigilante, this Red Robin guy, took an ugly beating near the harbor while he took down one of Sionis’ turfs.”

“It wasn’t an ugly beating,” Tim mumbles.

“Wasn’t it?” Jason asks, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Was it easy to fight fifteen guys at the same time, Superman? Did it feel wise to bring a freaking staff to a knife fight?”

“I won!” Tim says. 

“Yeah, and which victorious mighty hero is bloody and purple all over?” Jason barks. “Sit your ass down, Replacement!”

Tim flinches and… freaking hell, his eyes are stinging again, which is the most absurd thing ever. 

Jason sighs one more time, but this time he sounds… Well, annoyed isn’t quite the right word. He does sound somewhat irritated, but there is something else in his tone. Discomfort? Embarrassment?

“That’s not… Ugh, I’m sorry, alright?”

Except that’s actually worse. 

Moments ago, Tim wanted nothing but to be seen. It was pathetic. He wasn’t even that hurt and tonight hadn’t been special. It was just the first time he went out for patrol since he moved into his new apartment. He didn’t stop Poison Ivy, didn’t get into a scuffle with Harvey Dent. He just put away a bunch of low level henchmen even if he miscalculated how many of them would be there. Such a small feat, but there was a part of him that wanted someone to acknowledge that. To see all the bruises and bloody scabs, to pat him on the back and tell him he was great for how hard he was working.

How childish. 

Now that there is someone and he seems to be fully aware of Tim’s misery - enough to apologize for speaking a little too loud - Tim only feels small and stupid. He should’ve hidden it better, he shouldn’t be in this sorry state at all. 

The last time he saw Jason, they made amends. Just returned to Gotham after his mishaps with the League of Shadows, Tim found him to let him know he was aware that Red Hood was active again. Jason had said - albeit not in so many words - he lamented trying to kill Tim one year ago. Tim had told him it was water under the bridge by now and they agreed to work around each other, even if Jason still didn’t meet Dick eye to eye after last year. Then Tim had promised himself he would become strong like that. Jason had been through hell and back so many times and he always bounced back on his own. Why couldn’t Tim?

Maybe that’s why it felt like rubbing salt to the injury when Tim glares at Jason, the boy he was supposed to replace, the man whose shoes were too big for Tim to fill, and Tim’s vision is blurry with tears and his voice is overflowing with frustration when he asks yet again:

“What are you doing here?”

Jason meets his gaze. His brown eyes show clear unease, but he doesn’t look away. His brow is furrowed as though this is painful to admit, but he finally says:

“I heard you were probably hurt like that,” Jason gestures at Tim’s bare torso. “I knew you weren’t going to the cave for aid, so I brought the aid to you.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because if it were me, I wouldn’t go there either,” he states simply.

Tim bites his lip. “You dealt with your wounds alone after you came back.”

“Yes,” Jason says. He gestures at the counter again. This time, Tim sits. “I know it sucks. You ever tried stitching your own back? It’s really fucking hard.”

Tim looks down and doesn’t say anything. Jason brings a damp cotton ball to Tim’s wounds and stats methodically cleaning them. Tim doesn’t flinch, even when it really stings. Even when he feels like shame and guilt are all going to drown him.

“How did you do it?” Tim finally asks.

“The back stitches? A mirror and one of those grabby claw things, whatever they’re called…”

Tim glares at him. 

“So serious,” Jason complains. Then, in a calm voice, “I did it the same way you were doing before I got here. If I didn’t I’d die. Guess I wanted to keep living. You’d be impressed with the things people do when they have no other option.”

“You’re incredible,” Tim admits quietly. “I’m not like you. I’m not strong or… I gotta do this alone. I don’t know how.”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying out loud all the things he struggled to keep hidden for so fucking long. Jason doesn’t seem surprised with the confession though. He keeps calmly checking Tim’s injuries. 

“Not strong, huh? Which one of us took fifteen guys in a fight and won?”

“You know what I mean, Jason.”

“Yeah.” Jason grabs the needle Tim picked earlier and checks it before starting to work. “I know. Except you don’t gotta do anything, Timbers. And I don’t mean the vigilante thing. Fuck, I know none of us can quit this fucking life. We’re in too deep. I meant you’re not supposed to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. That’s what fucked up the old man. That’s how you lose yourself.”

“What’s that?” Tim scoffs. “You sound like a shrink.”

Jason looks up and smirks. “Maybe I have a shrink.”

Tim frowns. “Who?”

“Guess.”

“Jason.”

He chuckles. “Okay, so… I know it seems crazy, but she found me and asked me to join my crew in exchange for taking off this explosive thing that Amanda Waller put in her. And she’s crazy competent, so…”

“No,” Tim interrupts him. “You did not let Harley Quinn join your crew.”

“Actually, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy,” Jason has a shit eating grin even as he finishes his stitch job. “They’re a package deal. Ivy showed up a couple of days after Harley and I couldn’t get her to leave so…”

“You’re working with Harley Quinn and letting her give you therapy sessions,” Tim says. “Am I on a parallel Earth? Have those guys killed me and I’m hallucinating?”

“A lot changes in a year, Timbers, you’ve been gone for a while,” Jason shrugs. “People change too.”

“Not that much!” Tim protests. 

“Is that so? Then how come you gave me, what now, three, four second chances?” Jason glares at him.

That catches Tim off guard. He takes a moment to realize what he’s talking about. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tim asks, genuinely confused.

“I came back, I tried to kill you. You let it go. I get arrested, you help me to break out. I thank you by losing it after seeing B’s clusterfuck of a testament. You come back like it was nothing and tell me you hope to do business in the future. And you think I’m insane for giving shelter to an abused lady?”

“I’m not saying you’re insane for helping her. I’m saying I wouldn’t trust her advice,” Tim corrects. “Besides I know what you’ve been through. I understand, even if the others don’t. You’re still a hero. Why wouldn’t I help you get back in the game?”

“Because I could hurt you again, you moron,” Jason frustratedly points out.

“You could also be helpful. I decided it was worth taking the chance,” Tim states.

“Yeah, you did,” Jason whispers, using the bandaging as an excuse to avoid Tim’s gaze. “You’re the best of us, Tim. I’m not letting you crash like I did so many times.”

Tim just stares, his lips parted in shock. 

That’s when he feels the dam breaking and tears finally start to stream freely down his cheeks. He sniffles and makes that horrible choked up sound of someone vainly trying not to cry. Jason keeps tending to his injuries even as Tim’s body shakes with barely contained sobs and Tim doesn’t know if he’s ignoring the meltdown out of mercy or because he simply doesn’t know how to deal with it. It’s probably both. 

By the time Jason finishes wrapping up Tim’s many scrapes and rubbing medicine on countless bruises, Tim has managed to contain his sobs and is gingerly trying to wipe his face and pretending he doesn’t feel like he almost drowned.

“Listen, I know it’s hard, Baby Bird,” Jason mutters, a tad awkwardly. “But I’m not going anywhere. It’s not just you against the world.”

“Then what, is it the two of us against it?” Tim tries to quip.

“Maybe,” Jason says. “You did a lot for me. It’s about time I start deserving it.”

“I didn’t do it because I wanted you to pay me back.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here, dumbass,” Jason takes a step back. “I’m done. Go get changed into a pair of sweatpants or something. I’m gonna introduce you to the wonders of 2am cereal.”

Tim lets out a chuckle. “I’ve eaten cereal at 2am before, Jason.”

“Not mine, you haven’t. Chop, chop, kid, we don’t have all night.”

Tim listens to him. 

He should know better, after all he had experienced new beginnings before. All of them inevitably lead to crashing and burning, some rather spectacularly too.

However… There are a few firsts here. This is the first time someone truly understands. This is the first time Tim doesn’t feel like he’s entering a challenge, that he has to earn his place as Robin, as Young Justice’s leader. He feels like his place had been earned, like there’s a small beacon of hope after a long struggle. 

Tim lets himself accept it.

[renaroo]

The Ghosts You Leave

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics Warnings: mentions of canon death and lonely teenagers talking to spirits Rating: T Synopsis: There is a game that is played around the cave that is difficult to explain. The game is that, in the most exasperated hours of stress, when the things that have happened on Gotham streets are too hard to express, they begin to compare notes. They compare what they have done and what they have seen. 

A/N: So, in the 90s and 2000s you could not go many issues into a Batbook without someone hallucinating and casually talking to someone’s ghost and that always felt like such a weird convention in comics that went unremarked upon. Especially if you were uninitiated to it, I don’t know what you’d think about Jason’s ghost just doing cartwheels and cheering on Tim Drake. So. Here’s a fic lol

Cassandra Cain has spoken to ghosts before.

There is a game that is played around the cave that is difficult to explain. At least, it’s more difficult to explain than most of the others are willing to put the effort toward. The game is that, in the most exasperated hours of stress, when the things that have happened on Gotham streets are too hard to express, they begin to compare notes. They compare what they have done and what they have seen.

There isn’t supposed to be a winner in these kind of games, but there always is one regardless.

“Demons,” Damian remarks. He’s receiving stitches from Alfred who is curt in his actions and silent as stone. “Child stuff, really. Certainly you lot would know.”

“Honest to god,” Tim adds in the dead of night. He still has a concussions from the previous night, isn’t allowed back out. “He’s Frankenstein. Well. I suppose book accurate it’s Frankenstein’s monster. But who’s book accurate anymore?”

“Witch boy,” Stephanie chuckles, still combing out a sewer substance from her hair that is unspeakable. It’s only after what felt like hours of intently hosing and dabbing it out of the gash in her forearm. “I don’t know if that’s the right term. Warlock or something right? But if he calls himself — ba-dum-dum —“

“This meta, right, and he looks right into your soul,” Duke says lowly. There is a haunted gauntness to his face as he traces old scars. “And when you look back, something’s put there… but it’s not new. No, I guess it’s not put there. He lets something out of you and it’s already there.”

No matter how it’s said, with jest or quiet contemplation, Cassandra sees the tiredness in her friends and siblings’ eyes. It’s not an age that matches them, it’s infinitely older and more worn. She is overwhelmed with empathy for their plights.

But she is still a teenage girl, and there is a moving desire inside of her that wishes to participate as well.

“I talk to them,” she says, pulling at the already torn fabric of her newest suit. It’s cut with a blade that did not reach her flesh due to speed and flexibility she easily dismisses in the moment.

There are four pairs of eyes drawn to her as she speaks. It’s both what she wanted and not at all at the same time.

“Talk to who, Cass?” Stephanie presses with genuine curiosity.

“You,” Cassandra says without hesitation. “You had died.” She paused, then added with some accusation, “And left me.” With a breath, she eases back into sitting. “Then you came back. We talked. You told me what I needed.”

Stephanie bristles in place. This is not a time she likes to speak on, not a moment she likes to remember. But even as she opens her mouth and utters a noise, nothing can come out, it seems. It’s hard to talk about dying, especially when you’re the one doing it.

“Yeah? Well, after that whole dying thing with Shiva, I was the one talking to you! And I’ll have you know, you were a total chatterbox while in that coma!” Stephanie defends. “What was I supposed to do with that pressure? Not fight one of Shiva’s minions and defend your dead honor?”

“I didn’t get honor,” Cass counters.

“Well, after being a badass that night I have plenty to share, so I’ll lend you some of mine!” Stephanie responds with a smirk and wink.

The boys were in complete silence, looking at the two of them like they were foreign bodies floating over the stoop in the cave. Even Alfred had raised an eyebrow, gathered his medical supplies, and carried along without comment. Which seemed to say more than anything the rest of them had said the whole night.

“That’s weird, dude,” Duke broke the silence.

“I used to talk to Jason,” Tim announced, out of sync with Duke’s message. “I mean, before he was… back. I did it all the time. I would spend hours after patrol just… here in the cave. Bruce gone. And I’d look at his case and just… ask the tough questions. Look for inspiration… wonder if I was doing the right thing.”

Cassandra curled her nose slightly at this. “You… asked Jason?”

“He was very supportive,” Tim defended. “Gave great advice… made me feel… okay with what I’m doing. Like it was really making a difference.” He sniffed and rubbed at his nose with the back of his glove. “Imagine the shellshock of going from that to… well. Multiple decapitation attempts.”

Duke refocused his concerned energy toward Tim, which immediately made the third Robin prickly.

“He’s gotten…. He’s still Jason but he’s not tried to kill me since the batarang thing,” Tim argues the unvoiced words.

The heaviness of it hangs in the air as Duke and Damian seem to look between the three of them.

“I… may have spoken to my ancestors,” Damian finally acknowledges. After a betrayed look from Duke, however, he is quick to amend, “I didn’t see them wearing a sheet and saying boo, Thomas, it’s simply in the sense that… Well, with the Year of Blood and all that, there is a lot I have witnessed and my witness… is expected. It’s not hallucination.”

Cassandra frowns at this distinction. She doesn’t shift in discomfort like Stephanie or grow red in her ears like Tim, but she searches Damian’s features. It’s difficult, even with her keen understanding of body and movement, to determine what he is trying to distinguish between their cases.

“I don’t know what you guys saw or talked to,” Duke says finally. “On my tough nights, I talked to the other Robins. And now… I’ve still got Riko or Izzy or… Well, I talk to you, Cass. About… the stuff we’ve been doing together.”

Taken aback, Cassandra nods. She has not spoken to any ghostly figures lately, not since the Outsiders.

It isn’t something she’s noticed before now. But it is curious.

“That is because you are not lonely, Master Duke,” Alfred speaks up, surprising everyone from his corner in the medical bay as he cleans tools and restocks dressings. “And unfortunately, this is lonely business… when one chooses to make it so.”

The teens glance back to each other as the butler continues his work. They’re silent again, but in each other’s companies.

After all, it had not been long since each of them had uttered the immortal phrase for Alfred in that very cave.

[bluboothalassophile]

Weathered the Storm

After a very long day wandering New York City, looking over his properties and he was thinking about the logic of moving again now that the bats had found him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have places to go, the trick would be getting Raven to move with him. His girlfriend was a homebody if he ever met one. Not that she wouldn’t travel, and it wasn’t like she was domestic (he did all the cooking and the cleaning in this relationship), but Raven centered her existence around having a place to call home. Not that he blamed her, he kind of did the same thing, and he had just officiated the plans for the bathroom.

Which was another think he’d been running around doing, collecting needed supplies after having officiated it.

Now it was night, he had everything set up for the bathroom and he was on his block as the rain started. Life was pretty good for him right now, minus the Bats knowing where he lived. Pulling out his keys he walked into his apartment complex. He jogged up to the fourth floor; yes, he’d gotten apartment 4C as a joke for himself on C-4, one of his favorite tools. He’d even managed to paint the door bright red and Raven not blast him. Pulling his keys, he unlocked his place and saw Raven sleeping on the couch, her book on her chest and she didn’t look like she’d moved. He smirked a bit, after dealing with his family four days earlier he was sure she was exhausted. Carefully he scooped up his girlfriend, she grumbled something.

“Getting heavy, little bird,” he teased and heard her mutter something in Azarathian as cutlery rattled a bit.

“Kay, kay, light as a little feather,” he mused as he got her to their room and put her on the bed as he walked out. There was a tap on his window which had him looking up thinking it was a bird and he just about jumped out of his skin seeing Dick there.

“Jesus!” he yelped as he then composed himself and scowled as he stalked to the window and yanked it open.

“What?” he growled.

“Can I come in?” Dick smiled.

“Fuck no! What do you want and go? This is not a stop for Bats!” he snapped.

“Ah, come on little wing! It’s crappy out here,” Dick pointed out and Jason frowned as he looked at the rain and his sopping wet brother.

“No.” He slammed the window shut and walked to his kitchen as he purposely pulled out a kettle and tea. There was a persistent tapping on his window but Jason opted to ignore it when his phone rang.

“What?” he answered.

“What The Hell Kind Of Locks Are These!?” Dick demanded.

“Bat proof, seriously Dickhead, what do you want?” Jason scowled as he looked at the window where Dick was trying to jimmy the lock on his window.

“We seriously need to talk!”

“No, we don’t!” Jason snapped and hung up as he purposely stalked over to the window and looked Dick straight in the eye and took apart his phone then walked back to the kitchen. There was a persistent rapping on his window and after about ten minutes of it Jason surrendered to the fact he wouldn’t get any fucking peace in his own home as he stalked to the bathroom, grabbed towels, checked on Raven before he stalked back to the window and opened it.

“What is so fucking important you can’t email it!?” Jason hissed as his brother clambered into his apartment and he slammed the window shut on the storm.

“Thanks Jaybird, and I’m here because I was on my way to Blüdhaven and it started pouring so I thought to stop by here and stay dry.”

“This isn’t a fucking motel or halfway house for traveling bats!” he snapped as he walked back to his room and grabbed dry clothes for his idiot brother and threw them at Dick’s head.

“Ah, but you love us!” Dick mused.

“I like Cass and Stephanie and they’re about it,” Jason snapped. The girls weren’t so bad to work with, he and Barbara still clashed, but Cass and Steph were cool, as was the new chicks Harper and what’s her face with the powers. He’d get her name eventually.

“So… you and Raven, it’s real?” Dick said now dressed in dray clothes, Jason collected the wet stuff and dropped it in his dryer. Jason looked over at what Dick was looking at, it was of the few photos of him and Raven, and it was taken in Coronado, San Diego, California on a vacation he had taken with her about a year ago. He’d even splurged and they’d stayed at the Del Coronado.

“Yes, and off limits Dickhead,” Jason warned as he peeked in on Raven who was still sound asleep before he shut the door completely.

“Why are you really here, Dick, I know about ten routes between Gotham and Blüdhaven that are faster and don’t get you tangled here,” Jason said as he walked to the kitchen and pulled out some of the cookies he’d made earlier for a snack.

“I just swung by to check up on my little brother, can’t I do that, especially since Alfred didn’t get him to come to Sunday dinner,” Dick smiled. “Oh, are these the lemon things of Alfie’s?”

“Yes, and no, I didn’t go to dinner because I am renovating my bathroom after much sabotage needed to get Raven to agree to even let me,” Jason smirked, he was a bit proud of himself for lying to an empath and not getting her temper. Not that he’d ever boast about that. Never. Ever. He liked being on this side of the grave, thank you very much.

“Ah, can I see?” Dick asked.

“No! If you wake Raven I’ll skin you alive for kicks,” he warned lowly.

“Got it, no entry,” Dick sighed.

“So… you and Raven, three and a half years; Dami told us.”

“Yup,” he popped the ‘p’ to annoy Dick.

“How’d you two manage that?” Jason looked up seeing genuine interest on his elder brother’s face which had Jason frowning as he stood up straight, leaving his sugar cookie in the tin.

“Why?” Jason asked.

“I just want to know, longest I lasted was two years and that was even being engaged for a year, before that fell apart, so what’s the secret?” Dick demanded.

“First off, you fucked up with Kori, big time, and if you ever manage to shrink the ego and stop thinking with your dick instead of your head you might realize you were an idiot for fucking that up. And yes, I know all about it, Kori’s a good friend of mine and Raven’s, so I side with Kori. And two, none of your fucking business,” Jason snapped.

“Jay, I’m not… I’m not asking to make fun of you, you are the first of us with a successful relationship, I actually want to know how you and Raven pulled it off,” Dick said and Jason reluctantly looked over at Jason from the stove as he made warm milk for the cookies.

“She’s my best friend,” Jason answered.

“What?”

“Raven is my best friend, I don’t lie to her about the important shit or the little shit, I don’t try to be someone else and I don’t force her to be someone else, I’ve also made it a point Not to do everything you and Bruce and Tim do in a relationship,” he said calmly. “It’s really fucking simple, and complicated Dick. Lie to a girl, try to do the lone gunman thing for protection, and she’s going to leave. And yeah, I’ve done stupid shit and Raven’s yelled at me for it, and she’s done stupid shit and I’ve yelled at her. But I don’t cut her out Dick. It’s really that simple.”

“You two just, you don’t seem to mesh,” Dick said.

“Now that really isn’t any of your fucking business Dickhead,” Jason warned sharply. He and Raven worked because everything Bruce, Dick, and Tim were notorious for doing, he didn’t do, he actually tried not to do that with Raven.

“Are you two happy?” Dick asked.

“Not always,” Jason stated as he sat down. There were times they wanted to murder each other and the last real war they had was about something stupid, he’d left, and Raven had stayed with Victor as he ripped apart some crime organization. When they had both cooled down they had been adults about the problem, resolved the issue and moved on. No, he had no fucking clue what their war had been about, just that it was enough to have them wanting to throttle one another.

“Dick I don’t know what magical fairy tale land you and the Bats live in, but relationships are work. You’re not always going to be happy, and it’s going to suck at times. But it’s a relationship, it’s work.”

“Hadn’t thought about that.”

“Course not,” Jason muttered. He really didn’t call Dick ‘Dickhead’ just to annoy him, Dick and Bruce were notorious for thinking with their dicks instead of their heads when it came to relationships. Just look at how Bruce got the demon spawn for a kid.

“Jason?” Raven appeared, sleepy, rumbled and like a lost little bird as she rubbed her eyes.

“Hey, we got company, though I think I’m posting a sign on the window ‘No Entry’,” he informed her as she walked over and Dick smiled at her.

“Hey Rae,” Dick grinned.

“Hey,” Raven muttered as she clambered onto his lap.

“Midterms suck,” she informed them promptly before she was sound asleep again and Jason just sighed. This was a peculiar habit of Raven’s, and one he didn’t mind but wasn’t happy about revealing before his brother. Still, Jason dropped his arms around her to keep her still and looked pointedly at Dick.

“Not one word,” Jason warned.

“I’m not saying anything,” Dick avowed.

“Good, else I’d kick you back into the rain, the couch is yours, but I want you gone in the morning, and my apartment is not your stop between here and Blüdhaven, got it!?” Jason growled.

“Yup,” Dick mimicked.

“Good, cookies go in the cupboard, do not destroy my place so it looks like yours or I’ll track you down and murder you slowly and painfully in your sleep,” Jason stated as he picked Raven up carefully and took her back to their room.

“Oh, and Dick, my room is off limits. Don’t even think of snooping in here,” Jason snapped.

“So I can snoop the rest of the apartment out.”

“Touch anything and I will know,” Jason stated as he kicked his door shut and put Raven back in bed.

“Stay,” she mumbled.

“Not going anywhere little bird, just going to bed,” he promised as his sleepy girlfriend conked out again. The other secret to their relationship that the Bats would never understand, was they were independent of one another, however, they also were a unit and wanted each other’s company. Changing he fell onto his bed and looked Raven over carefully before he turned off the light and let sleep settle.

Bats were not going to be welcomed in his relationship, but it appeared they would be crashing into his life.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Dick waited until he was sure neither Raven nor Jason were coming out of their room before he got up and started looking over the photos. The thing to understand with his being here, was Raven was one of his best friends, and Jason was his baby brother, he just… he wanted to make sure they weren’t going to be hurt.

Looking over the shelves of records, books, and odd mementos that they had he could see they were close. Surprisingly he couldn’t pick out what was Raven’s and what was Jason’s on the books or music, and he paused looking at the few photos of them they had. It was clearly a gift, he was betting Victor’s, and they were scattered on the shelves.

There was a photo of Raven and Jason in a different apartment, boxes everywhere, and it looked like her place in San Francisco from five years ago when she had abruptly moved out. There was another photo of them, it was of them at an airport. There was a photo of Victor, Jason, and Raven at a game, Raven in her Mets gear, Jason in his Knights gear, and Victor wearing a Mets hat, all of them were smiling, it looked like a good time. There was a photo of them, which was clearly not staged, sound asleep in a park, books on their chests, neither seemed any the wiser to the photographer.

But the photo which really caught his attention was one of Raven and Jason, both with real smiles, at the beach, both with surf boards and wetsuits on, and a caption written in Cyborg’s bold scrawl: 'Congrats on Three Years!’.

Dick smirked, Jason and Raven might be the two biggest loners ever, but it appeared this was solid and he didn’t think he or the rest of the family would ever get to be a part of it really.