#Damian's conversation with Connor is delightful too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sparkleofpizza · 4 years

Text

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 4/?

Requested: no

Warnings: swearing, death, gore, fluff

Taglist: @isthataladybag @the-fandom-ness @takoyakkun @caswinchester2000

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the Cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake.

Word count: 2.807

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Arrow after arrow was shot to the target glued to the wall. You kept going, practicing was a good thing to keep your mind off things and also clear your head. Sometimes it was good to just let your pent up feelings go with every arrow that left your quiver.

You haven’t been out on patrol since you moved to Gotham two months ago, all you did was sometimes spare with Jason - that was a rare occurrence now, he had one of his many fights with Bruce and has been avoiding the manor lately. That left you to practice archery on your own, not that you minded, it was good being alone for a while.

You could feel Damian’s eyes on you. You knew he had been keeping a close eye on you ever since they found out about the whole League of Assassins stuff. Even if you hadn’t heard what they were talking at the kitchen, you would’ve still found out he was suspicious of you, he didn’t know how to keep a low profile when giving you murderous glares or muttering under his breath - maybe he wasn’t trying to be subtle, maybe he wanted you to know he was keeping tabs on you.

You didn’t mind him watching you, you just kept doing your thing at the batcave. You didn’t want to pick a fight with a twelve year old.

“Hi.” Tim said, a smile on his face as he came to a stop beside you “I didn’t see you at breakfast today.”

“Good morning.” You nodded your head, not daring to look at him “I didn’t have breakfast today.”

He frowned “Why not?”

“So I could practice.”

He nodded his head, watching you do your thing. You looked beautiful, deadly and beautiful. He couldn’t help but admire you, you didn’t even seem to notice - at least he hoped you didn’t, he didn’t want to seem creep.

“Do you want to have breakfast with me?” He asked before he could think about it

“I thought you already had breakfast.” You put your bow down to look at him

He smiled sheepishly “I could never pass up the opportunity to drink more coffee and spend some time basking at your company.”

You felt heat spread through your cheeks. That was very smooth of him.

You nodded your head, agreeing to his idea of breakfast. You didn’t trust your voice to not betray you with your feelings for him if you spoke your agreement out loud.

You put your bow and arrows away, taking that time to gain control back of your emotions. This is Tim, the guy who doesn’t trust you enough to ask you questions about you himself - you had to remind yourself that.

“I was thinking we could have breakfast at a cafe downtown.” He said, walking out of the cave with you “It is one of my favorite places, they have really good coffee.”

“Sure.” You smiled at him “I just need to get changed.”

Tim nodded, taking notice of your sports bra and leggings. He let his gaze linger on your body as you disappeared from his sight to go to your room to get dressed.

After taking a quick shower and throwing on some clothes, and sunscreen on your face. You went down to meet Tim waiting for you.

You honestly had no idea what to expect from this breakfast with him. You were still weary of him after the conversation you overheard. You are still waiting for him to tell you, but apparently he wasn’t going to do so, and you are honestly disappointed.

Dating had always been a hard thing for you, considering your life and everything. You tried dating people you met at high school, but you couldn’t exactly say ‘hi, I can’t go on a date with you tonight because I am helping the Green Arrow fight a big threat to the city.’ Then again, most people were only interested in dating a Queen and not to exactly date you. And you also did try to date Connor, but it just didn’t work, you see each other too much as a family to have romantic feelings involved.

And then you met Tim, and he was cute and sweet and pretty and soooo incredible. You really did think that maybe things would go right this time, but just like everyone else in your love life, he let you down.

As you sat at the coffee shop, stirring your drink with a straw, you watched as Tim seemed way too nervous. He kept pushing his hair back and gripping on his cup.

“Are you ok?” You questioned, eyeing him suspiciously

“Y-yeah. No.” He shook his head making you frown “There’s something you should know.”

You nodded, motioning for him to keep talking. Whatever he was going to tell you, didn’t seem like it was a good thing.

“I did something bad, something I really shouldn’t have done. And guilty has been eating me alive because I just can’t believe it I did it instead of taking to you.”

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Is he going to tell you what you think he is going to tell you?

"What did you do?" you asked quietly after a moment of silence

Tim took a deep breath before looking into your eyes. It was now or never.

"After you told us about the League of Assassins thing, I realized I didn't know much about you, so instead of asking you what I wanted to know I looked you up and found out a lot of things about you. I am really sorry I treated you as some sort of criminal, it was not my intention and I realized that I shouldn't have done that the minute I finished doing it."

You kept quiet, processing his words. Although you already knew the truth, you are still trying to find out if he really means what he said. He didn't seem to be lying, and he does seemed very nervous to tell you that.

"I already knew."

He blinked a few times, not fully comprehending what you had just said.

"I'm sorry, what?"

You smiled a little "I said I already knew what you did, Tim." you chuckled "I overheard you and your brothers talking in the kitchen."

"And you're not mad?" His eyes were wide, making him look adorable

"Oh, I am more upset and disappointed than mad. I didn't say anything because I wanted to know if you were going to tell me, and I am glad you did."

He nodded his head, feeling a bit of relief, but also sad you are upset and disappointed with him. These are not good feelings.

"I spent the last two week trying to find ways to tell you, none of them seemed good enough because what I did was really a shit action." He hesitantly grabbed your hand that was lying on top of the table, his cold fingers caressing your palm, making shivers go down your spine "I'm really sorry about what I did, y/n. And I totally understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore. I just need you to know that I am truly deeply sorry."

You smiled at him, squeezing his hand. Could this boy be more perfect?

"It's ok, Timmy, I understand why you did what you did. In this line of work, you can't make mistakes, even if it means doubting people you shouldn't be doubting." You leaned over the table, pecking his cheek "I forgive you."

Tim seemed to be in a daze for a few seconds, processing your words and the kiss you just gave him.

"Thank you. I don't know what I would do if you didn't want to talk to me anymore, I really like you."

His cheeks were tinted a dust pink and so were yours.

"I really like you, too."

To say you and Tim were living daydreaming after having admitted you two liked each other was an understatement. You were so happy that he liked you two that it didn't even occur to you that you said you liked each other and then did nothing about it. But Dick Grayson was having none of it.

"So you're telling me you told y/n that you like her and she said she likes you back, but you didn't kiss her or even asked her out on a proper date?" he had to refrain himself from yelling out in frustration

He and Tim were standing together at a rooftop of an apartment building while on patrol. He asked his little brother how the two of you were doing, and although he was delighted to hear you both declared liking each other, he was very disappointed that was it. Nothing more happened.

"I was too busy making sure she didn't hate me after what I did." Tim shook his head, not believing his older brother was disappointed in him "I didn't know if I'd be rushing into things by kissing her after what I told her."

Dick nodded his head, heaving a sight "I know, I know. It is just that... Oh, there is so much sexual tension when you two are together, I just want you to kiss and be a happy sweet little couple together! Is that too much to ask?!"

The younger boy felt his cheeks heat up with what the other had said. There wasn't that obvious sexual tension between you two. Was there? Oh God, he hopes not, that would awkward for other people. Tim still remembers how he felt weird when Dick was pinning over Kori, the tension between them, the endless flirting and longing looks, it used to kill him to be in their presence with the Titans. He didn't want anyone to go trought what he did, and to know he was doing the same. The worst, or best, part was that he didn't even realize it because he was so enchanted by you that he didn't notice he was pinning over you that hard.

"I'll ask her to have dinner with me tomorrow." Tim settled with that, if you are still awake when he returns home from patrol then he will ask you out on a proper date, that's it

"Good, and then I will help you prepare it!" the older boy grinned at his little brother

Before Tim could reply, telling him there was no need to do so, Jason cut their conversation short.

"Although, I love to hear about replacement's love life, there is still a job to be done." he said trough the coms "So if you could meet me that would be great. There is some fucked up shit here."

You didn't want to seem desperate, but you also couldn't help but stay awake waiting for Tim to return home after patrol. You had already talked for almost two hours on the phone with Connor, telling him everything that happened. Then you FaceTimed Oliver to see how his mission was doing, and proceeded to get very annoyed with the fact that he still refused to tell what the mission was, saying he would tell you everything once he gets back next week.

You also tried sleeping, but you kept thinking about your brother's safety and then your thoughts would drift back to Tim and how you wished when you kissed his cheek, earlier today, that you had kissing him on the mouth instead.

That left you wandering around the cave, telling Alfred you were just waiting for them to come back in case any of them were hurt and needed medical assistance. The butler knew you were just waiting for Tim to arrive, but didn't say anything, only gave you a knowing smile.

So when they all finally arrived home, you expected tired faces and sore muscles, not faces like they've seen ghosts. You frowned upon watching their expressions, did something happen?

Bruce had a deep frown on his face and quickly dismissed Alfred when he asked him something. Damian went straight to the showers, Dick and Jason had lost looks on their faces, and Tim seemed deep in thought, almost missing the chair as he sat down to use the batcomputer, typing furiously in it.

You bit your lower lip, it seemed like it had been a rough night. Thankfully none of them were hurt.

"Hey." you said in a low tone, not really wanting to disturb Tim, but also wanting to give him some comfort "Everything alright?"

He turned to look at you, in his hurry to use the computer he didn't even took his mask off. You raised your hands, brushing some hair from his forehead, and then pulling the mask away from his face, reveling his blue eyes and deep bags.

"Hi." he whispered, basking in your tender touch, you rubber his temple, trying to ease some tension "Just something that doesn't make sense."

You hummed, letting your hand go to his hair as you massaged his scalp with your fingernails. Tim closed his eyes, enjoining the sensation you were proportioning to him. He placed his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he smushed his face against your chest, listening to your heartbeat. After what he saw tonight, feeling your warmth and sweet touch were everything his needed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you questioned him, not wanting him to you trough this alone

"It is not something nice, I'm not sure if..." you placed a kiss on top of his head and he almost melted against you "It is a really horrible thing to say, are you sure you want to know it?"

"Yes." you tilted his back so he could look you in the eyes "Tell me, you don't have to suffer alone." you kissed both of his cheeks

Tim felt his insides burning, he wasn't used to so much affection. Of course, his brother Dick was a man of hugs, he loves to hug his brothers, but other than that, Tim is a pretty touch starved boy. He was almost sighing in contentment with your touch and kisses, he wanted nothing more than to just stay like this forever.

"Ok." he pulled back from you, still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you down so you could sit on his thighs, he wanted to be able to look you in the eyes

You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

So Tim proceeded to tell you what him and his family had seen tonight. The trail of bodies at the casino Jason asked them to meet him. All the blood and every single one of the people in there dead. How they all looked horribly, so many wounds, so many knives, arrows, bullets. It was honestly one of the worst things he had ever seen in his life - he was Red Robin and before that Robin, born and raised in Gotham, he had seen a lot of horrible things in his life, but what he saw tonight? It was absurd.

All the time he was telling you the events, you kept a comforting hand on him, wether caressing his hair, or trailing patters on his arms. He was glad you were there, making him calm and come down from the high emotions he was feeling.

"This sounds like something the League could do." you muttered

He shook his head "There was something off about that, it didn't look like the League of Assassins pattern."

"Maybe the League of Shadows?"

He shook his head again, staring at the computer screen across from you.

"Can you show me?" you asked, he frowned at you

"I don't think you should see it, pretty bird. It really is horrible."

"Maybe I can help. Please."

He hesitantly pulled the pictures he took with his phone, showing the casino littered with bodies. Your small hands zoomed into the picture, watching it with close eye and disgust, it really was horrible. You were sure this would cloud your nightmares tonight.

"I know this arrows." you said "Malcom Merlyn uses them."

"So you think this was a mercenary work?" he questioned, it did make a bit of sense, but it was so brutal the way they were killed

You shook your head. Still staring at the picture in front of you, a thousand of thoughts running trough your mind. Possibilites, theories, everything. You couldn't even bring yourself to conclude one thought before another came crashing down.

Tim gripped at your hands before closing the picture. Staring at it would do you no good. He also didn't want to look at it anymore for now.

You turned around to look at him, a frown adorning your face making him worry.

"Timmy, have you ever heard of the Ninth Circle?"

176 notes · View notes

violetsmoak · 4 years

Text

Pieces of April [16/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Here’s your daily dose of JayTim and baby for your quarantine reading pleasure! Stay safe, wash your hands and support your local healthcare, waste management and retail workers!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

The rest of the afternoon is spent on the phone, fielding calls from various departments and sorting out production complications. Interspersed are texts and Facebook messages from friends and family—Dick, wondering if dinner is still happening on Friday, Bruce wanting updates on the mob case, the Titans wanting to know if he’s coming to San Francisco that weekend—

Tim is evasive with all except the last one, informing Bart that there’s some family drama going on that will keep him home for a while. Once the speedster knows, everyone else will know, so it’s about as effective as sending a group text.

He resists the urge to phone Jason and see how he’s doing; he’s rather sure he won’t pick up.

(“I ain’t a damn kid that needs checkin’ up on, Drake.”)

Not that Tim is checking up on him. He just knows that whenever someone in the family is going through a personal crisis, that’s usually the time when Gotham’s rogues decide to act out.

So really, ensuring Jason’s stress levels stay manageable is a public service.

“Because that sounds like logic,” he chides.

Damian shows up around 3 o’clock and spends the next two hours alternatively disparaging everything about Tim from his too-long hair to how he organizes his filing system, to discussing WE resource allocation for an animal shelter he wants to open. The conversational whiplash is enough to make Tim’s head spin, and he makes a note in his phone to talk to Bruce about whatever it is that’s going on between them that’s so bad Damian prefers Tim’s company to his father’s.

Either Bruce put his foot down about another of Damian’s strays, or he still won’t agree that Robin should have a private prison to lock up rogues.

Whatever the reason, Tim is very much out of his depth at the youngest Bat’s newest tactics for taking his frustrations out on Tim.

Though I guess workplace inconveniences are a huge step up from swords to the gut. Could always be worse, I guess.

It turns out he’s not the only one learning new and interesting coping strategies. Upon arriving home at six, he finds Jason tweaking the tech in his gear on the kitchen table, baby carrier three feet away.

His entire body is tense, like a spring ready to snap.

“Was she up all day or something?” Tim asks on the way in, putting his bag on the floor and loosening his tie.

Jason shoots him a baleful look. “She’s been crying all day. And she’s still barely eating. I think she’s starting to look a little yellow—Tim, why is she yellow?”

And Jason sounds—dare he say it—almost frazzled.

Right. Time for more damage control.

“I’ve got her,” Tim says, easing into Jason’s personal space and taking the baby. “You go to sleep. Or shower. Or watch TV or something. You’re starting to go batty.”

That earns a disgusted look, and even Tim winces because that was just bad.

“Did you seriously just say that?” Jason asks.

“No, you’re sleep-deprived and hallucinated it,” he replies.

“I’ll allow it,” Jason says, yawning. “But only because it could be true.”

Jason shuffles off upstairs and Tim heaves himself onto the couch, pulling out his phone to check his usual online haunts for potential cases or clues for his current case. Social media and forums are pretty good sources once you learn how to weed out the sensationalist crap.

After thirty minutes of nothing, he gives it up and wanders over to the dwindling pile of baby items. Jason hasn’t returned yet, so he’s either passed out from exhaustion in the shower or actually made it to bed. Since Tim can’t hear the water running, he supposes it’s the latter.

It won’t kill me to go without the pre-patrol nap today, I guess.

Studying the pile, he notes that the boxes with the crib, changing table and whatever else needed assembly, have all gone missing. Presumably, Jason set those up this morning in a fit of boredom or paranoia.

The only things that haven’t been touched are the blankets, soft toys and garments, other than whatever Isa’s been changed into already.

There are only about twenty different pieces of clothing, and according to his not-so-new best friend the Internet, that’s not going to be nearly enough given infant propensity to upchuck. Especially since it’s not all the same size. Tam had to guess how big Isa was, so at least half the onesies here won’t fit her for another month or two, which isn’t supremely helpful for right now.

Back to fiddling with his phone, Tim goes online to order some more supplies and discovers, to his delight, that there’s an entire line of pop-culture related babywear. Star Wars, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Superhero logos…

He grins as he orders one of everything for next-day delivery, wondering whether Jason’s more likely to complain or find it funny.

Under normal circumstances, he’d probably find it funny. For someone else’s kid.

There’s still no sign of Jason after sunset, so Tim feeds and burps the baby, then sets up his laptop and tablet in the kitchen to check some of his surveillance feeds for the mob case. However, Isa protests every time he tries to put her down.

“What’s wrong with you now?” he asks. “You’re warm, you’re fed—” He takes a pause to check and change her diaper, during which time she continues to mewl at him, “—and you’re dry. Which means now’s the time you got to sleep, okay? New babies are supposed to do three things: eat, poop and sleep. So get on that.”

Once again he attempts to wrap her up and place her in her carrier, but the whimpering becomes flat-out crying, her tiny face becoming purple with rage and her eyes pinching shut.

“Okay, okay—putting you down is a no,” he sighs, tucking her back in his arms to rock her gently. He watches his computer monitor balefully, knowing if he’s holding the baby, there’s not going to be any hacking of Gotham’s CCTV tonight.

Could text Babs and ask her to do it. Except then she’ll want to know why.

Which is also a no.

One-handed, he searches out his phone again, looking up possible reasons for Isa’s current temper and potential solutions online. One thing jumps out at him and he brightens. A quick trip to the Nest and back, and he has what he was looking for.

Which is how Jason finds him when he finally comes back downstairs around eight o’clock, showered, rested and altogether more human-looking than what Tim came home to. He pauses at the foot of the stairs, squinting at Tim. “Is that your cape?”

“My cape is made out of state-of-the-art piezoelectric fabric substrates that can become a weapon with the right electrical frequency,” Tim retorts, trying not to feel entirely self-conscious from his seat at the kitchen table, wrapped in a makeshift mei-tai with Jason’s daughter drooling into his chest. “Also, that thing’s filthy.”

“And this is…?”

“My old cape,” Tim replies, going back to his computer. “Sometimes newborns just need to hear a heartbeat to calm them down. The best way is skin to skin, but I’m kind of in the middle of something, so this is the next best thing.”

Jason tilts his head to one side in consideration. “That’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, I looked it up online.”

“Of course you did,” Jason groans, rubbing his temple. “Because that’s what normal people do. I didn’t even think of it, I was too busy trying to get her to stop crying.” He huffs, almost rueful. “Why the hell am I surprised that you’re good at this? You’re good at friggen everything.”

Huh. A compliment. Those are almost as rare coming from Jason as they are from Damian. He must really be out of his comfort zone.

“Maybe it’s just because I have a certain measure of distance from it all,” Tim suggests, standing up to leave his temporary workstation. “If I suddenly found out I had a kid, I don’t know how I’d react.”

“Bull. You’re just like B. You’d just stick it in the back of your mind and forget about how to feel about it until you’re ready to deal.”

Tim feels a sudden flare of anger. “Is that actually how you think I am?”

“You going to tell me you’re not?” Jason challenges.

Tim opens his mouth to do exactly that, only to wrinkle his nose at the sudden stench arising from the lump of baby tucked against his chest.

“Ugh. Someone needs a change.”

Again. Guess I wasn’t so far off about the ‘eat, poop and sleep’ thing.

Jason snorts. “As far as conversation enders, that’s a pretty good one.”

Tim carefully unwinds the fabric from around his body and deposits the slowly waking baby into her father’s arms. “Tag.”

“You suck.”

“Serves you right for being a dick.”

He feels almost no guilt leaving Jason to deal with the soiled diaper and cranky baby this time, still smarting a bit about the resentful accusation that was lobbed at him.

Just because I can compartmentalize doesn’t mean I forget about things. Or that I don’t feel them.

He’s just not like Jason, or Dick, or Damian, who get angry and lash out as loudly and as viciously as they can. And he’s not like Bruce, either, since Bruce really can flip a switch and put something difficult out of his mind if it interferes with the all-important Mission.

Tim’s tried doing that, and as successful as he was in his quest to locate Batman when he was lost in the time stream, that period of Tim’s life was the most desperate and hopeless he’s ever felt. It was painful in a way that was different from losing his father, or Connor, or Bart—mostly because he was forced to bottle everything up to get the job done.

It was months after Bruce returned before Tim started processing things normally again.

Not that I should expect Jason to know that, he muses as he grapples through the rooftops of Gotham. He might know about me from my files and when we occasionally work together, but he’s never stuck around long enough to get to know anyone who came after him.

The night is at its darkest, cut through only by the Bat-signal in the distance. He won’t be running into Bruce tonight then unless the GCPD is bringing him in on the Gazzo case. It’s unlikely since there hasn’t been any retaliation yet. GCPD protocol dictates they’ll pass it off to Homicide until orders from on high turn it over to Major Crimes.

Red Robin ends up stopping two muggings and a drug deal before making his way to Gazzo territory to take some surveillance photos of his own. Security images are helpful in general, but he has camera tech that will let him focus on details the CCTV won’t pick up.

It’s another relatively early night for him, returning home just after midnight to upload his findings to the servers and shower off the grit and grime of the city.

The apartment is silent, and he expects Jason and Isa to be upstairs in the newly built nursery, but upon closing the secret door again, he notices the faint sound of breathing. Creeping over to the sitting room, he finds Jason passed out on the couch beside Isa’s carrier. The television is on but not showing any channel, instead casting a solid blue light across the room.

Tim can’t help noticing how Jason’s habitual frown has eased in slumber. There’s no trace of a sneer or growl on his lips right now, his mouth parted only to breathe.

He has never seen the older man like this.

There are pictures of him at the manor, of course, most of them hidden away in dusty boxes. It’s only recently they’ve started cropping up at the manor again, though Tim isn’t sure whether it’s Dick or Alfred that’s been putting them there.

Hell, maybe it is Bruce. It’s the exact kind of gesture he’d make to try to tell Jason he wants him around more, without actually having to tell him directly.

Whoever’s responsible for them, Tim’s memorized all of those photos. The boy in those is always grinning or making silly faces or not paying attention to the photographer because he’s busy doing something he shouldn’t be.

If there’s a picture of Jason looking so calm and peaceful, it’s hidden away in Bruce’s personal files where no one can find them.

Tim can sort of see why given how vulnerable his predecessor looks right now. This is the Jason that Bruce remembers, the one he’s built up in his memory that’s different from the Jason once enshrined in the much-maligned class case in the Cave. This is the Jason Bruce is trying to find whenever he squares off with Red Hood and mourns as lost when he can’t find him.

Which is stupid since he’s still right here. I wonder if anyone else will ever realize that?

Tim decides not to wake Jason; he might have been a jerk before, but he should sleep while he can.

Instead, he settles in on the other couch with his laptop to review the surveillance shots he took himself and from the security feeds. If he can figure out just which of these mobster muscle heads is the easiest to break, he can get a better idea of what might have happened to the teenager in concrete.

I’ll just do a quick scan tonight, and study them in more detail tomorrow.

Of course, as usual, he gets invested in his work and doesn’t look up again until about four o’clock, when Isa’s sharp cry pieces the silence. Tim jumps, having completely forgotten her presence, but that’s nothing on Jason, who vaults upward from his spot on the couch, body tense and prepared to react to whatever caused the noise, friend or foe.

His hand is already reaching for a gun—one that Tim is thankful to see is no longer there.

“It’s okay, it’s just time for the next feeding,” he says quietly, trying to sound both casual and soothing at the same time. Based on the bleary look he’s getting from Jason, he’s less than successful.

Jason glares at his empty hand, clenched as if to hold onto something, and Tim must be on the verge of falling asleep himself because for a moment he imagines he can see the outline of a sword.

Great. Hallucinations. Tomorrow’s going to be a triple-shot of espresso day, I can tell.

And it’s suddenly occurring to him that babies and their sudden loud noise-making skills might not be the best thing for someone that’s suffered the kinds of trauma Jason has.

He makes up a mental note to look up some strategies for that. He’s not quite sure how he’ll bring up the subject with Jason. While Jason is adamant that Tim’s the most like Bruce, when it comes to avoiding problems, he’s the one that has more in common with the man.

For now, he decides to just act as normal.

“You know there’s a perfectly good bed upstairs?” he quips. “Thousand thread count, fluffy pillows, solid mattress…”

“Shut up. I was watching something. Guess I fell asleep.” Jason swings around and makes a move toward the baby, but Tim makes a motion to stop him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it.”

“You already took her when you got back.”

“How do you know? You were sleeping?”

“I was resting my eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Go to sleep or you’ll be face-planting in your coffee tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine, I—"

“This isn’t your responsibility, Replacement. Go to bed—I’ll handle this.”

Jason is clearly not someone to be reasoned with when sleep-deprived; Tim always suspected that, of course, but he’s never had the up-close-and-personal experience. It doesn’t make him any less frustrated.

“The whole point of you staying here is for me to help,” he reminds him. “So would you just accept it already?”

“You’re also the one with a nine-to-five job and actually need the friggen sleep.”

Tim grimaces. “Fine. But I’m going to make up a schedule for us tomorrow so we can divide the babysitting more equitably.”

“You do that, boy scout. Why don’t you make a chore-wheel while you’re at it?” Jason jeers, taking the baby and heading for the kitchen. “This isn’t kindergarten.”

“Are you sure about that?” Tim shoots back, scowling in frustration.

Just for that, I will make one. See if I don’t.

⁂⁂⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

Next Chapter

#jaytim #timjay #babyfic #kidfic #slow build #slow burn #tim drake #jason todd #bringing up baby #baby isa #toddlet #adulting #slice of life

3 notes · View notes