#tim drake is pedantic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

froldgapp · 2 years

Text

These days, Barbara usually woke before him. It wasn’t always this way. When they’d first started whatever this was, she’d fall into consciousness to the sense of him already somewhere else in her apartment; the kitchen, the shower. He had a habit of rearranging her books and her records. He did this when she was sleeping, of course. Impatient, pedantic and petulant. A robin. Occasionally, if he was in the mood to pretend she was quiet enough to sneak up on him, she’d catch him staring out at Gotham through the large lounge window, the city suspended in the morning amber. It was always quietest in those hours before the trains started running, before the bodies were discovered by tired workers starting their shifts. He once said he loved summer mornings in Gotham the most; that it felt like a held breath. The window was open and the cool air pushed his dark hair from his face and he said, “It’s so quiet. You can pretend it’s all over. There’s nothing left to do.” He impressed her in those early days in a way he never did before or since. When Tim Drake emerged from the second great depression in his short life, it was like she saw him for the first time. What Tam Fox must once have seen, surely. A confounding, compelling creature that had a seeing-eye picture’s deceptive allure of coming into focus just when you thought there was nothing interesting to see. Desperately sad too. In need of rescuing. A cliche, but a fucking solid one. One day when she bumped into him coming out of the bathroom at the manor, she was affronted to discover that he was actually very beautiful. Black hair, blue eyes, an acrobat’s shoulders (an acrobat’s waist, forearms, ass). A hot energy pooled in her stomach, even as she laughed and shoved him out of her way, he protesting in that Lenny Bruce abomination of an accent of his. But when she’d closed the bathroom door behind her, she’d leant her head against her chair and said, “Fuck” and then, “No.” She was not going to fall for Tim Drake at Dick Grayson’s anniversary dinner. She did.

[Into My Arms here or keep reading below]

They fell for each other. Into each other. With each other. Down and down and down into a grief they’d both considered as bloodless as dried flowers. They were wrong. It was just waiting for them to find each other. Dick Grayson had died. Sudden arrhythmic death syndrome. 33. He wasn’t discovered for three days. They all told each other it wasn’t each other’s fault like they were salaried to. Dick was in Bludhaven. They were busy. Gotham was falling apart. Jason was falling apart. Dick was living his life. So and so had just spoken to him. Dick was always so okay . How could it be that the most beloved of them could lie alone for three days? It was high summer. Thinking of it brought Barbara to the edge of madness. Tim quit the nighttime gig, restarted, quit again, moved to Vietnam, moved back. Fought an eating disorder, fought Bruce, fought Jason, almost killed Damian, was almost killed by Damian. Took up the mantle of Nightwing at Bruce’s behest and quickly made the first of two attempts on his own life. She’d only heard about all this second hand, of course. She was too busy playing her own part: stoic, noble Barbara. Tragic Barbara. A perversion of Eurydice. Strong, weak Barbara. Broken but persevering Barbara. Lonely but admirable. Who could love again after loving and being loved by Dick? But it happened. Because loving Tim Drake felt so much like loving Dick sometimes it felt like her chest might implode. Tim, beautiful, fragile, incidental Tim, was a priest through whom she could commune with the most perfect human any of them would ever know. Sometimes when he eased her backwards onto the bed, his chest a hard panel and his cool hands searching, she’d close her eyes and pretend he was Dick. She knew it was wrong. She found it hard to care. She suspected he knew what she was doing too. Maybe he was living out his own Dick Grayson fantasy. He always had been the magpie of the family. It took them months to look each other in the eye; he’d make love with his mouth pressed against her neck. Occasionally he wept. Once he screamed. Tim was as old now as Dick was when he died. Still boyish, if anything he was slimmer now than he was in his 20s. He still got IDed when he picked wine up for her. He didn’t drink. God forbid. Instead he drank water while Barbara scried the past in a glass of Tempranillo. He’d endured more than a few drunken explosions of hers, nodded patiently when she called him a “fucking facsimile” and held her, humming into her hair when she burst into shameful tears. In the end, he did go back to being Nightwing. Was so now. Different colours, a different mandate and a whole new dynamic. Jason not speaking to him, for example. Barbara told Tim he’d come around. Jason needed time. When she met Jason, she told him Tim was the best thing he had, that he needed to stop blaming Tim for everyone else’s mistakes, and then held his hand while he choked on silent tears. He missed his brother, couldn’t bear to love another one the same way. She got it. He was a good man. Bruce was cueing Tim up to be Batman, that much was clear. A pinch hitter while Damian matured and mellowed. Tim said he would never. He would rather die. Barbara wasn’t so sure. Tim never could let the project fail. If she could help it, she’d keep Tim away from the cowl. Dick wouldn’t have wanted that life for him. So, she was learning–slowly–to protect the boundaries of their own little empire: a loft apartment, little Haley the dog, and a pair of rescued cats Tim never fully learned to trust. She watched him boil chicken and pak choi with the same amount of focus he used to solve the world’s most complex enigmas. She watched him run through his conditioning exercises in the morning, sometimes walking on his hands to scare the cats. She watched him flick through photos on an old phone, huffing that laugh of his that sometimes turned into a sputtering cough. She waited at home when she wasn’t running coms, sometimes too much like a certain kind of woman she thought she’d never be: the kind who waits for the police officer’s knock. She loved Tim as a person, as a conduit, as an artefact. She loved him as a substitute, she loved him as an almost, a nearly, a not-quite. She loved him as a sound and a scent. As a friend, as an ally and as a man who gave his whole life to a Gotham that had taken so much from them both. She loved him most of all because he understood her and he held her grief with the kind of grace he would never give himself. Okay, she thought, I’ll hold it for him.

#tim drake #barbara gordon #dick grayson #jason todd #fanfic

13 notes · View notes

pluckyredhead · 2 years

Text

Character Profile: Owen Mercer (Captain Boomerang II)

It’s character profile time! @kiseiakhun requested “the ginger twink who replaced Roy on Outsiders,” so after I stopped laughing, I wrote this post about Owen Mercer, the second Captain Boomerang.

Owen first appeared in Identity Crisis, the dreary 2004 miniseries that was straight-up one of the worst things ever to happen to DC. But Owen’s okay! He is the illegitimate son of Digger Harkness, the first Captain Boomerang and longtime Flash villain. Here’s Owen:

And here’s Digger:

So, you know, kind of an upgrade.

At the time of Identity Crisis, Digger’s criminal career is not going particularly well - he’s generally thought of as a loser and a laughingstock. In one of the book’s many subplots, he tracks down Owen, the son he never knew, who is in his early 20s and implied to be something of a budding lowlife himself. At least, he’s pretty cool with his dad being kind of a pathetic supervillain, and the two of them spend some time bonding, with Digger teaching Owen how to throw boomerangs.

But then Digger is hired to kill Jack Drake, Tim Drake’s father, as part of the book’s dumb mystery plot, and Digger and Jack wind up killing each other, leaving Tim an orphan and Owen...well, fatherless at least, we’ll get to his mom(s) in a minute.

The Flash Rogues are very big on family, and they promptly take Owen under their collective wing. Owen’s like “I did spend like ten minutes throwing boomerangs with the guy so I guess I’m down with bank robbery and maybe murder in his name forever?” and just sort of rolls with it. Sure!

It also quickly becomes clear that Owen has super speed, but he can’t do sustained runs like the Flashes - his speed only works in short bursts, like, say, while throwing a boomerang. Yes. He has super speed but only while throwing boomerangs. I love it.

Owen was raised by an adoptive mother (unclear if he knew he was adopted before Digger showed up), and it’s widely assumed by the Rogues that Owen’s biological mother is the Golden Glider, aka Lisa Snart, Captain Cold’s sister. They arrive at this Sherlockian conclusion because she’s the only fucking female Flash villain in existence. (Okay, pedants, yes, there’s Magenta and Peekaboo, but they’re way too young. Shh.) It doesn’t really make sense because a) Owen couldn’t have inherited super speed from her because her only power is being very good at ice skating-themed bank robberies and b) she is WAY too hot for Digger, but the Rogues aren’t always...smart.

Digger’s corpse is then stolen by a handful of reformed Rogues (Piper, Trickster, those guys), who put a bunch of electrodes on his head and wake him up. Undead Digger Version 1.0 confesses the truth about Owen’s parentage to *checks notes* Ashley Zolomon, Zoom II’s ex-wife, who is there for some reason:

Apparently Digger was just minding his business one day when he was young and hot when the Flash’s cosmic treadmill bumped into him and knocked him into the 30th century, where he met and hooked up with MELONI THAWNE, BART ALLEN’S MOM.

This raises so many questions. How did Digger get back to the 20th century? How did Owen get to the 20th century? Why was Owen sent to the 20th century? Owen’s paternity was originally leaked by a tabloid; how the hell did they find out? Was this before or after Meloni married Don Allen, Bart’s father, and is Owen or Bart older? (Owen is physically older but that doesn’t mean he was born first, because time travel.) Why the hell would Meloni have even slept with Digger? I know that art is attempting to depict him as so handsome he sparkles and i guess he has temporary amnesia, but he’s dressed as Captain Boomerang, and Meloni’s a Thawne. How could she not recognize him?

But also...Meloni doesn’t have super speed. Bart inherited that from his father’s side. No Thawne has super speed except Eobard Thawne, the original Professor Zoom. (And it’s not hereditary because comes from his costume, not his biology, even if that’s sort of been forgotten/retconned.) So...why does Owen have super speed???

This is so dumb. And yet! I would still have been totally on board with Owen and Bart finding out about this and processing it, but spoiler: neither of them ever find out. No one ever finds out, meaning literally the only people on the planet who know are Digger, Meloni, and Ashley Zolomon. So it’s a completely wasted piece of potential on top of everything else. Come on, DC!

Anyway. Owen eventually gets arrested, and is briefly recruited by Amanda Waller for the Suicide Squad. Interestingly, somewhere in there Bart is aged up to 20 years old, becomes the Flash after Wally disappears, and is killed by a group of Rogues led by his own evil clone, Inertia. Wally returns and takes down Inertia, but for some reason the Suicide Squad is sent after the rest of the Rogues (???), meaning that Owen is unknowingly involved in getting justice for the brother he didn’t know he had.

This apparently doesn’t clear his record, and he ends up in the metahuman prison Iron Heights, where his cellmate is Black Lightning (Jefferson Pierce), who has been framed for murder. Jeff is a founding member of the Outsiders, plus his daughter Anissa (Thunder) is an active member at the time, so the Outsiders decide to break him out before the other inmates can kill him for being a superhero. He insists that they take Owen with them, and just like that: boom, Owen’s an Outsider now.

Much like with the Suicide Squad, this is barely working on the side of the angels: the Outsiders are undercover, believed dead, doing all sorts of shady things including torture because it’s the late 2000s and everyone is Super Edgy And Very Mature All The Time!!! Also, Dick is leading the team, and he’s not Owen’s biggest fan, for obvious “was a villain two weeks ago and also his dad killed Tim’s dad” reasons.

During this period, Owen also becomes good friends with Kara Zor-El, Supergirl, who had only recently been reintroduced into post-Crisis continuity and was still pretty new to Earth. At the time, they were going for a “look at this sexy naughty teenage bad girl” thing with her (see above re: everything being aggressively edgy all the time), and so for a while they teased a flirty, will-they-or-won’t-they relationship between Kara, who was 16, and Owen, who was definitely somewhere in his 20s.

Like. She literally calls herself jailbait. What the fuck.

Nothing actually happens between them aside from a lot of gross comments (he compliments her ass, jokes about watching her kiss other girls), which is probably why he still comes across as pretty charming. Also, like, he’s eventually captured and beaten nearly to death by an evil, drugged Cassandra Cain which Kara doesn’t notice because she’s being abused by her new boyfriend. Like, everything about this book was so goddamn dire that Owen making jokes, even sleazy ones, is kind of a breath of fresh air.

Anyway Kara eventually apologizes to Owen for “leading him on,” UGH, and Owen, thank god, is finally like “You didn’t lead me on because you’re a child and we’re not going to date.”

No, Owen, please, tell me more about the cougars!

Again, this is all wretched, but it’s wretched in a way that leaves you angry with the writer (Joe Kelly, at least for the Supergirl issues; Outsiders at the time was Judd Winick) and not the character. Owen emerges from the mess pretty darn likable, if only because Kara really needed a friend at that point, even an inappropriate one.

The other thing he does with likable intentions and terrible execution because he’s a disaster when it comes to interpersonal relationships is try very hard to make amends with Tim. (I have some questions about this because he seems to know that his father killed Jack Drake, Robin’s dad, but he definitely doesn’t know Nightwing or Batman’s identities. Much like my other Owen questions, they will never be answered.)

OWEN YOU ARE SO BAD AT MAKING FRIENDS!!! They do eventually reach something of an uneasy understanding, which is nice to see. (And yet another reason it would have been fascinating to see Bart grapple with this complicated history between one of his best friends and his half brother, but it was not to be.)

Meanwhile, the Outsiders continue to screw up every single mission in comically awful fashion, and Bruce eventually steps in, takes leadership of the team away from Dick, and tells every member they will have to “audition” to stay on by working in teams of two, because Bruce never encountered a situation he couldn’t turn into a way to give vulnerable young people an inferiority complex.

Owen is paired with Dick, and once again is like “You and Batman need to give me a chance,” which doesn’t get him very far:

Their mission involves going into space (yes, Regular Boy and Slightly Faster Regular Boy are definitely the heroes I would send to space and not, I don’t know, Meta-fucking-morpho, Bruce) and collecting Chemo, the giant radioactive blob monster who had at that time very recently destroyed much of Bludhaven and killed a lot of people, not really on purpose. Dick decides to go off mission and fire Chemo into the sun. Owen, it turns out, is still sort of working for Amanda Waller, who wants Chemo brought back to Earth for her own use. This means we get a very weird fight where Nightwing is portrayed as the straight-laced hero as he argues to defy orders and murder a living being, and Captain Boomerang is portrayed as the shady antihero who wants to...not do that.

Anyway, Owen’s super speed allows him to win the fight long enough to stop Dick from...doing murder...but he also decides to go back to the Suicide Squad for realsies about it:

Then Blackest Night comes along. Digger is one of the many villains reanimated as a zombie by a Black Lantern ring. He manages to convince Owen that if he eats enough living people, he can come back to life. Owen thus digs a pit to keep him in and starts feeding him random innocent people.

Yup. Owen, the guy who went out of his way to make amends with the son of his father’s killer, who wanted so badly to find a way to be a hero despite his past, is apparently so devoted to the father who abandoned him and who he only knew for like a week as an adult, that he commits mass murder in some half-baked attempt to bring him back to life.

Anyway, the Rogues find him, and Captain Cold reminds him that the Rogues have a rule about not killing women and children, which Owen has now broken. Cold throws Owen into the pit, where he is killed by zombie Digger. Digger then comes back to life for real at the end of the story, because why have interesting, charming Owen when you could have yet another character who’s been around since the 60s?

I don’t know if there’s a poster child for wasted potential in comics, but if there is, Owen is certainly a contender. He’s such a charming character, with a really fun balance between edginess and goofy super-speed boomerangs. So much mileage could have been gotten out of exploring his relationships with Bart and Tim, and really delving into what his moral alignment actually is and why. But no one ever did any kind of deep dive into his personality or motivations, so his choices frequently make zero sense, and it’s really clear that a lot of the storylines he was in were interrupted and scrambled by crossovers and editorial meddling. He’s basically just a sexy leather jacket with boomerangs on it, which is a crying shame. I would honestly be surprised if they brought him back, especially now that Digger’s been in a movie, but if they do, I hope they do better by him this time around.

#owen mercer #captain boomerang #captain boomerang ii #suicide squad #outsiders #flash #character profiles

147 notes · View notes

avaoracle · 2 years

Text

Batfam Vocab; Robin addition

Basically if all the Robins were asked to list a bunch of their favorite vocabulary words

Jason Todd: [Already has dozens of vocab lists at the ready]

Misanthrope

Colloquial

Banal

Evocative

Superfluous

Calamity (a classic example being Dick Grayson's fashion sense)

Trite

Arduous

Effervescent

Supercilious

Derivative (*cough* Red Robin *cough* *cough*)

Impertinent

Concilatory

Ineffable

Stagnant

Juxtaposition

Innocuous

Uncouth

Countenance

Esoteric

Tim Drake: [Made an algorithm that scanned all his written and recorded words over the years and produced a list based of his personality traits and evolving vocabulary trends]

Non-sequential

Ubiquitous

Dissociate

Optimization

Cohesive

Subsequently

Binomial

Ascertainable

Sufficient

Splenic (not funny Steph)

Categorically.

Contingency

Damien Wayne: [He refused so Jason and Steph ran Tim's algorithm through all his comm transcripts]

Inane

Pedantic

Pedestrian

Interloper (used interchangeably with Tim's name)

Deign

Slovenly (used synonymously with Jason's)

Debased

Perversion

Imbecile

Inferior

Abhorrent

Abomination

Disgrace

Genetics, Superior

Stephanie Brown: [Gave up on words she actually uses almost immediately in favor of ones she thinks sound cool]

Audacity

Moxie

Gauche

Comeuppance

Rigamarole

Somnambulant

Non sequester

Finesse

Coquettish

Caucus (maturity is overrated Timothy)

Dick Grayson: [Had to stop mid "word" when Jason brained him with a dictionary]

Funner

Pizzaz

Chalant, Aster, Whelmed, Traug-

67 notes · View notes

heartless-error · 4 years

Text

I'm home

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairing: Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating/Tags: JayTim Week 2020 - Day 4: Free Day, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Developing Relationship, Getting Together

Other(s) links: AO3

Jason knew no matter how hard they tried, the cave was no longer his home, nor was the manor. It might sound sad, but didn't matter how many lies they told him or deals made with him to bring him back to the family, such places were no longer considered his home for a long time. However, of all of them, the relationship with his replacement was the one which seemed to have improved the most, and as the comfort and trust between each other had increased, it was obvious his relationship had changed too, they were... Well… He wasn't sure what they were yet.

But Tim being adorable when he slept didn't help him at all.

OR:

5 times Jason saw Tim sleep and 1 time Tim did.

I'm home

That night, if Jason were in the batcave, it was because he had no choice.

He wanted that to be recorded. Don't get him wrong, the relationship with the bats was improving a minimum, for once both parties had agreed to try to resolve their differences and fix years of roughness and conflict between them. However, this didn’t mean that some tension wasn’t yet present in their interactions, and much as his first instincts as see them wasn’t taking out a gun, it was still a bit awkward to act as if nothing had happened.

Everyone knew that it was a process and they had to take time, so sharing some simple cases, and not killing each other’ during these were the first steps to take in the right direction.

Of course, sharing such cases meant that Jason sometimes had to put a feet int the cave to get a more detailed update or pick up something he needed for, like right now.

This time Grayson had forgotten to send him the entire update of a case that they had right now, reason why he had been forced to appear there to demand it. Although if he thought about it, maybe Dick would have done it on purpose to drive him out of his mind and see him in the cave, forcing him to go there and socialize.

Good strategy, bastard. He'll be punched later in the mission with some vigilante excuse, like "you had something on your nose" or "Batman told me to do it," Or better, he could punch him right now without hesitation, who would stop him? moral? fraternal love? Bullshit.

No matter how hard they tried, the cave was no longer his home, nor was the manor. It might sound sad, but it was so, and it didn't matter how many lies they will tell him or deals made with him to bring him back to the family, such places were no longer considered his home for a long time.

So, he started to search Grayson's stupid ass not to waste any more time. But it was then when he walked through the batcomputer and something else caught his eye.

If there were things that he knew about his replacement, other than that their relationship was still somewhat tentative and strained -but cordial-, is that the guy barely rested, and he was fucking crazy. He was smart, yes, but he sacrificed himself for simple missions to insane points, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat well, he worked as CEO of Wayne Enterprise by day, as a vigilante at night, he also had online classes, and his diet consisted of energetic bars, coffee and Monster in industrial quantities.

Yeah, as he said, fucking crazy. Jason didn’t know how he was still alive, even after having survived all attempts on his life, of his courtesy, of course.

So, the sight of the boy asleep above batcomputer’s keyboard wasn’t as surprising as it should be.

He was wearing Green Lantern pajamas, Wonder Woman socks -like his- and the cup he was holding while he was asleep was white with a message that said "there’s still no vaccine for stupidity." His shiny black hair was very tousled, his skin was very pale and his face had some dark circles that didn’t disappear even after sleep, he could almost hear him snoring, he was drooling on the keyboard too, and his cheek crushed against it was writing a deep and interesting report titled "fhidsgbobvhuyfdvashufso".

Jason didn't know whether to feel pity, compassion, or amusement at such a spectacle. It was a mix of all of the above.

In the end, he considered if the boy was exhausted enough to sleep under those circumstances, it was better to leave him as he was, he owed him. So, he did, turned around and left.

When he punched Dick a few minutes later and he started to yell at him, he said:

“Shh. The replacement is sleeping.”

The punch he received back was silent, but effective.

II.

Alfred's excuses for bringing him into the manor were a thousand times better than Dick's or Bruce's.

He went on, and was going to go on, never considering the place as his home again. But Alfred's tricks had something the other two pedants didn’t: Alfred's food. Whether they wanted it or not, it was a real plus and a compelling reason to put aside their grudges and deign to step on the place.

Although as much as being lured with delicious food like a wild animal was a good explanation why he was now wandering through the carpeted hallways of the Wayne Manor, he had to admit that the approaches he had been taking with the family had been having its effects, there was less tension now.

They were still assholes sometimes, but with less tension and a little more understanding or appreciation on both sides.

Of all them, the relationship that seemed to have improved the most and that was a pleasant surprise for everyone, including him, was with his replacement.

The one who he found when he entered one of the most remote rooms of the manor.

He didn't even bother saying hello, but rolled his eyes, this time with amusement.

At this moment, he had spent more time in the place, and he discovered along with the third Robin that they worked very well together, starting to take more and more team missions than they should. Another thing that he had also noticed is that Tim could fall asleep anywhere and under any circumstances, he didn't care.

It wasn’t a surprise looking at the rhythm of life he led, but Jason had found himself appreciating the fun and entertainment provided by being able to find the boy sleeping anywhere. Without realizing it, it was already something he had begun to expect every time he was there, giving him a kind of routine and a sense of normality that he didn't expect to enjoy.

This time Tim was on the sofa, his legs still on the floor but his torso lying on the padded surface of the furniture. He would bet the boy had an early conference call judging by the laptop on the table, or because his pants were the ninja turtle pajamas, but his top was the typical jacket, shirt, and tie you could attribute to the CEO, Timothy Drake-Wayne.

It was hilarious, stupid. Made Jason snort with fun and approach to look like the other slept peacefully, murmuring in his dreams and hugging one of the cushions on the sofa tightly.

This time what he felt was simple relief to see him sleep, since he would need him at his 100% for their mission tonight.

And although his first instinct was to leave again, he stopped to think for a moment, considering that he was starting to realize how difficult it was to repair interpersonal relationships, so he forced himself to try. So, he walked over, scooped up his feet as gently as he could to get him properly on the couch, grabbed one of the blankets on the end of it, and covered him, so he wouldn't catch a cold or something. He didn’t know, but since he slept for once, at least he could be more comfortable than usual.

When he finished, he tried to convince himself that the way Tim had smiled softly in dreams hadn’t affected him at all.

III.

“I'm fine…”

“Shut up.”

“But I'm fine…”

“I said shut up.”

He already knew he was fine, fuck, he didn't have to repeat it. Jason was the first to know that he was fine, who was treating the wound? Eh?

On top of that the gremlin had the audacity to raise his head and look at him in a kind of pout, like a sad puppy or something. He certainly looked like it with those huge eyes and those long eyelashes, he was regretting giving him those painkillers to ease the pain.

The red team had completely killed it this night, like all the others during the last months. Undoubtedly, discovering the good team they made had been one of the best surprises among the Gotham vigilantes, though not so much for the villains who were kicked in the ass, of course.

Precisely because of one of those villains, quite spiteful in his opinion, they were in this situation.

They hadn't expected the little ambush across the corner at the end of the night, so they were caught off guard, and they took a couple of unplanned injuries courtesy of some thugs already on the way to jail.

Jason didn't like that punch in the face, or the stab Tim had received in the shoulder. The last in concrete hadn’t liked him at all, had angered him, very much, maybe more than normal. He almost took out the real bullets again to make it clear that if anyone had the right to stab Red Robin in Gotham without any repercussions, it was him and Robin.

So no, he hadn't liked that attack on his partner. Nothing at all. He could have been angrier with the attacker but leaving the scene and treating the other was more important after knocking out that guy.

So, without wasting a minute he carried the other, fled the scene and ended up in the bathroom of one of the Red Hood safe houses treating his injuries.

Tim, the little shit without a sense of survival and self-preservation, insisted it hadn’t been that bad, it didn’t matter the desperation with which he had swallowed the painkillers and the points that he had to apply to close the wound, he was convinced that it had been a slight injury.

He will teach him what a slight injury is, the stupid shit.

Although when he finished closing and cleaning carefully the wound on his shoulder, Jason realized that he had no explanation for the annoyance and anger that he carried with him about the whole thing.

Yes, Tim was now his partner in Gotham, they were starting to be feared as a team, and maybe, maybe, out of the vigintalism work he could have realized that he likes the nerd more than he had originally imagined. After all the little bird shared his acid and sarcastic humor, caught his literary references, played more with gray and twisted morality than others thought, he was one of the most attractive men in Gotham, and he also liked chilli-dogs. So yes, Jason wasn’t a stone, it was true he was taking a certain fascination with him. One whose reach didn’t want to start thinking about, because although they don’t always come out unscathed from every patrol, Tim was right in saying that the wound he had acquired tonight wasn’t proportional to his reaction.

He didn’t want to give him the reason, Jason wanted to convince himself that the discomfort on his chest wasn’t because he was worried about him or anything like that because that would mean that he cared for Tim a lot. And he doesn't, right?

His plans for constant denial went to hell when he finished cleaning the wound, and he felt a light and soft brush on his cheek, courtesy of Tim's fingers that had startled him.

“What?” He asked, looking at him confused but agitated.

The painkillers seemed to have worked, judging by how the boy was leaning tiredly against the wall and looked sleepy, almost asleep. With those baby blue eyes cloudy and looking at his face as he tried not to close them.

He ran his fingers down his cheek to his cheekbone, touching where Jason still felt a little numb, surely where they had punched him and was beginning to have a bruise.

“You are hurt too…” He whispered, clearly falling quickly into the dream world.

“Tch. Just a punch.” He said, finishing his task and shrugging.

“But you're hurt...” The smallest frowned, almost seemed annoyed, but he had already closed his eyes completely.

“Who cares?” He teased, snorting with amusement.

There it was again, that boundless kindness Tim possessed and intrigued him so much. It had never stopped to amaze him, really. By now, Jason couldn't help but wonder how anyone could be so generous after all he’d been through, especially Tim.

He was fascinated by the way he gave everything for someone, everything. He just gave, gave, and gave, and gave without stopping, without reservation, gave all of himself and what he had with such force and intensity that it even frightened, regardless of the consequences. And even after receiving betrayals, stabbings, and disappointments in return, he was still there with a stab wound in his shoulder, lying in his bathroom, and worrying more about him and the punch in the face he had received.

It was admirable.

“Me…” Tim muttered.

Jason felt his chest sink, almost surprised.

“Yeah, sure” He said sarcastically and snorting.

As if he were to believe that. The medication had to be working a lot for him if it was making him forget that not long ago the one who was stabbing him was him. He shouldn't matter to Tim; he was the last person Tim should care about. But a part of him told him that the medication didn't matter here, Tim would keep thinking the same thing because the way he had forgiven him so easily indicated it, and Jason didn't even want to start thinking about how that made him feel.

“I care…” He whispered weakly, almost asleep. “I care about you, you're my Robin.”

He dropped that while Jason was keeping things in the medicine cabinet absently, making him froze and wondering if he had heard correctly or not. The weight and the annoying feeling that had been installed in his chest twisted, and he looked up uneasily to realize that the other had already fallen completely asleep against the wall.

He had dropped the bomb and retreated.

The thing was that maybe he wasn't even going to remember it in the morning, but surely those words, along with the tender touch of his fingers, and the way his heart jumped listening to it was something Jason wasn’t going to forget, how to do it?

He always thought he had been the least loved, least valued Robin in Gotham and the community. After all he was just the violent street boy that had to fill the shoes of the amazing and perfect Richard Grayson. He didn't do much either, he was like Robin for a short time and it was his career as Red Hood that allowed him to help Gotham from another perspective, also he died of reckless. Why would he be anyone’s favorite Robin?

Apparently, he was Tim's, if he could trust his wounded drugged words.

But it was that the moment and the place where he realized that it wasn’t worth trying to fool himself, because his chest continued to twist, but this time in a more pleasant and warm way, his discomfort was gone, and when he recognized that maybe he was a little more fascinated by the other than he realized, he felt a certain weight disappear from his shoulders.

He looked at his partner asleep, leaning on the wall in his half-worn suit and with a bandage covering his shoulder. He noticed the way he wrinkled his nose like a cat, his relaxed expression so different from when he was awake and constantly alert, his long eyelashes, and the scars that completely covered his body, narrating a life of sacrifice and danger.

With an exhausted sigh, Jason decided to pick him up off the floor with care and allowed him to sleep in his bed that night.

Before going to sleep on the couch, he smiled because the way the other had instinctively wrapped himself like a burrito in his blankets definitely was adorable.

IV.

They didn’t even watch half of the movie when Jason felt a weight light fall on his shoulder.

The Jason Todd from a year ago, would have simply bothered, overwhelmed, and pulled away, perhaps pushed the other. Now he just smiled, almost touched, and settled better on the couch so that the body of the other wasn’t seen in a bad posture after a while.

Tim had finished his last assignments that afternoon, concluding his semester. Apparently, the Wayne Enterprise board looked like to have behaved well this time too, so when the meeting ended, the current CEO sent Jason a text to plan a movie marathon to honor the occasion.

Of course, not was the first time they did something like this, Jason was more than sure what was going to happen. So, he didn’t flinch when Tim fell asleep against him.

Seriously, it was ridiculous.

If someone had told him long ago that he would end up having marathons of the Lord of the Rings with the boy whose blood he tried to write on the walls, maybe he would have shot them. However, against everything, he had found himself enjoying and longing those nights.

There were always quiet nights, when the patrol had ended, or they needed to hide from the world together. They weren’t aware at what point they managed to find so much comfort in each other's company, but surely between healed wounds -like that stab in his bathroom- and completed missions, they must have realized that not only did they get along, but they liked, complemented, and helped each other in more ways than one.

As ironic as it sounded, Tim and his boundless goodness got kept the Lazarus Pit's anger at bay. Not in an exaggerated way, since its effects kept inside him and it was clear that they were not going to disappear, of course it was something he would have to live with now. But Tim, so smart, kind, and perceptive as he was, had learned to read the signs, to interpret them. Soon as he started to get along with him, he could sense when anger appeared, he had learned not to stoke it, not to push it, and give him space when he needs it.

He hadn't said it, of course, because he was a little self-sacrificing shit that did those kinds of things without wanting recognition or anything in return, but Jason had noticed it and inadvertently began to return the same care and caution with which the other surrounded him on his bad days. Without realizing it, he saw himself cooking so that he didn't only eat energy drinks, he canceled some of their joint patrols too when he noticed that Tim wasn’t particularly in the mood, and sent him to sleep when he was too tired. And when he didn't want to, he would play a movie and within a few minutes he was snoring.

Like now, for example.

Jason looked aside and the tender smile he had kept until then grew. No doubt Tim had shown up at his door with popcorn, drinks, and was ready to spend the night awake with laughter and his favorite movies, he had to give him that credit. But knowing him, he had slept rather little to be able to finish all his assignments on time, so the moment he was wrapped in a blanket, comfortable, warm, with the lights off and the television in the background, it was impossible for him not to fall asleep.

Now, he was completely leaning on Jason, lying there placidly while breathing slowly and not even worried by his surroundings, with his guard completely down. As if falling asleep on top of the Red Hood was nothing special.

Jason felt that amusement turn into affection, devotion, even pride as he realized how safe he had to feel around him, so he could sleep like this without reservations. The boy was ridiculous, but he was even more ridiculous for being at his mercy without resistance. Because being so close he could smell the citrus scent of his hair due to his shampoo, as well as feel his small body completely leaning against his. He couldn't see his face, but in these cases, he didn't know if it was better that way.

While the comfort and trust between each other had increased, it was obvious it was because his relationship was now... Well… He wasn't sure what it was. Indefinite, if he had put a name on it somehow.

They flirted, joked, were close, had dates (or something like that) and saw each other when they could.

They hadn't talked about it, but Jason wasn't dumb, and Tim wasn't either, he knew they were both aware of the change of attitude, but they didn't mention it. It isn’t as if they were doing nothing about it, on the contrary, rather he felt that they were letting it develop on its own, to follow its natural course.

Eventually they would speak about it, because at the rate they were going to, they would have no choice.

For the moment, Jason settled on the sofa wrapping the blanket that covered them, put his arm around the little one's shoulders to keep him by his side and after thinking about it for a few seconds, he kissed his hair while he was squeezing it a little and inhaled his scent. Then he looked again at the TV.

When he fell asleep, he felt that this was something he could call home.

When Jason returned from patrol, he didn't even bother turning on the lights.

He entered to the room through the window, like a good with serious problems to remember that doors existed for something, and he started to remove his armor immediately, snorting and boiling of frustration in silent.

The night had been disgusting. Not because something serious had happened, if not because it had been the typical patrol in which he had only encountered pseudo villains who thought they could aspire to something more, and people believing they were dangerous when they were actually rookies with guns trying to rob an unfortunate gas station. He had also had to cover part of Cass's territory in Chinatown, which coincidentally had been the best of the night, because a kind lady gave him coupons and discounts for her restaurant after helping her with the little mob that was trying to intimidate her.

Tim would very much like to take advantage of these discounts this weekend, so with the coupons in hand, the hassle, and boredom, the desire to return home were more powerful than ever, and he headed there in a hurry.

When he took off his armor and looked comfortable enough to go to sleep, he went to bed to find what he wanted so badly to see: The Tim-burrito.

He had convinced his boyfriend to take the night free after an especially busy project in WE, one that had kept him two days awake and working nonstop. When he suggested a break, his little bird had no will to refuse to rest, so finding him in their shared bed sleeping and almost drowned between the oversized blankets, was a complete victory.

He couldn't even see him correctly, because all that was in sight was his soft black hair, tousled and poking out between the sheets, but it was enough for Jason to smile tiredly and lie down next to him carefully.

Settling properly next to him so as not to disturb his sleep or undo his nest, Jason sighed and felt the discomfort he had felt all night slowly disappear as he was near him. It had taken some time, many attempts at emotional conversations, and certainly tentative steps to get to the point where they were not, but without doubt he couldn’t regret it when he now had his warm presence at his side, being able to listen to his soft breathing and the way he murmured in dreams sometimes, seeing his face with that expression serene that he adored so much, and above all, being right at his fingertips.

If Tim didn't want him to hug him while he slept, then he shouldn’t be that adorable in the first place. Because Jason loved holding him in his arms, he liked feel how his smaller body fit perfectly against his, loved to squeeze him and listen to those small and sharp whining of his, or kiss his head, hear his laugh, smell his hair, feel how he smiled on his skin.

He loved his babybird and his strange sleeping habits, or nesting, or stealing shirts, he liked too how little by little he looked willing to take care of himself a little more, to value himself just like he deserved. So, nobody could blame him if he got close in the mattress and tried to cover that Tim-burrito with his arm.

He was on his side and his face half covered, Jason was convinced he was completely asleep, but when he put his arm over his covered waist to bring him a little closer, he heard a snort and a weak moan from him.

Slowly and wearily, Tim opened those blue eyes a bit to scowl at him and churning in his cocoon of blankets. Jason smiled sadly but at the same time moved by this.

“Sorry Babybird, I didn’t want to wake you up.” He whispered, raising his hand to stroke his hair fondly. “Go back to sleep.”

The smallest sighed and closed his eyes numb with the caresses, but before fall asleep again, shook his head and shifted, pulling the covers away from him to get closer to Jason with an intelligible grow. Jason snorted amused and allowed it, hugging him tighter this time while he settled on his chest and intertwined his legs. When Tim was finally comfortable enough, he raised his face and leaned down to kiss him despite being half asleep, and because of that he ended up kissing his chin instead, but Jason soon kissed his lips slightly while laughing.

“Welcome home.” Tim murmured as they parted, each word tinged with love and adoration, hiding then his face in his neck to keep sleeping.

And there, with the other clinging to him and his heart about to explode from everything he felt for that man, Jason realized that it was true, he was at home.

Extra:

When Tim returned from the office, he noticed that everything was silenter than normal.

He knew Jason was home, today was his day off, and he had texted him asking what he wanted for dinner. But unlike most times than that happened, the kitchen was empty when normally there was Jay muttering and singing under his breath while cooking, so Tim soon started to look for him around the apartment.

When he found the other, he relaxed and sighed with relief, smiling at the sight.

Jay had fallen asleep reading on the sofa, head down, leaning to one side with the loose book in his hands. The last few days he had been involved in difficult cases that required too much vigilance until late, so it wasn’t surprising that he was so tired.

Without much thought, Tim dropped his briefcase from work, undid his tie, and approached him to pick up the book that lay forgotten on his lap, a collector's edition that he gave Jason for their anniversary and had made the tallest smile at him with intensity.

Leaving the book on the table, he looked at his boyfriend tenderly, and he settled him on the sofa as best he could so that he didn't hurt his neck, then covered him with a blanket and kissed his cheek, then his temple.

“I’m home.” He said, happier than he ever imagined.

#myfic #jaytimweek #jaytimweek2020 #jaytim #timjay #dc #dc comics #batman #tim drake #jason todd #red robin #red hood #fluff #free day

42 notes · View notes

violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Tabula Rasa [2/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183281/chapters/47822500

Blanket Disclaimer:

Summary: Tim and Jason have known they are soulmates for years, though neither has said anything about it. Tim thinks Jason doesn’t know, and is just trying to live with it. Jason thinks Tim knows but doesn’t care, which is fine with him, he thinks the soulmate thing is a crock anyway. But one night, a minor mishap forces them to confront the issue head-on, leading to a series of events no one could have predicted.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #bright vivid colours #danger #enemies to lovers #soulmate aversion #soulmark tattoo

First Chapter

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

Tim is exhausted.

It’s not the semi-permanent fatigue he’s been living with ever since becoming a vigilante, the ‘constantly tired about something’ background noise of his life. It’s more of an utter doneness with everything.

His head is pulsing like someone took an icepick to his left eye and punched through to his brain stem, and he’s got a bit of fever. Damian’s cat bit him in the early hours of dawn when he stopped by the Cave to drop off some intel. It’s taking his antibiotics longer to kick in than he’d like.

He’s been in meetings since seven this morning discussing the next year’s budget, sitting across the boardroom from the old guard of shareholders and Bruce. Bruce, who’s been attending more of these meetings in the past month with the implied goal of scrutinizing every move Tim makes. He spent hours today grilling Tim on every judgment call, made him argue for every cent of allocated funds and second-guessed projects months in the making.

And then the board members—even those who disliked Bruce—joined in and it was like a fucking ambush.

Tim didn’t even have someone in his corner to give him five minutes of breathing room, and he’s never missed Tam so much as at that moment. But she asked to transfer to a different department not long after the whole faking her father’s death thing. Tim doesn’t want to call her in for matters he should be able to handle himself.

Kon’s canceled their plans to hang out this weekend because he forgot his and Cassie’s anniversary. It was meant to be a videogame and junk food fueled marathon, and Tim had been looking forward to it for two weeks now. It’s the third time this month they’ve had to call rain check.

Though to be fair the last two instances were because I got dragged into something Bat related and time-sensitive.

At this point, all he wants it to get home, eat a whole pizza himself and sleep for at least eight hours. He’s even picking out toppings as he heads for his car in the employee parking lot.

So, of course, that’s when the notification system on his phone chimes. Patched into the GCPD frequencies, he’s informed that Killer Croc is rampaging in the University District.

And at City Hall?

Crash!

And apparently now in the WE Building.

“What the hell?”

The lingering staff members scream and flee to their offices, barricading themselves in as the growling, pebble-skinned thing bursts out of the nearby stairwell.

Okay, that’s not Killer Croc, but it looks a heck of a lot like him. Maybe shorter.

The elevator bell dings, opening on an empty car, drawing the snarling man-shaped beast’s attention. It makes an immediate run for Tim, who backs into the elevator and glances upward; there’s a cage across the ceiling to block access to the ceiling panels, the spaced between the metal lats wide enough to reach his fingers through.

He bends and jumps up, swearing at the bite of metal as he grabs hold of the grille, just as the creature barrels into the elevator. Tim uses the momentum to plow his knee into the creature’s jaw.

Its head snaps backward, blood spraying as it bites down on its tongue, but it doesn’t pass out as Tim had hoped. Right as it’s gearing up to take another run at Tim, there’s thwip! sound and two darts lodge themselves in its throat from somewhere outside.

The croc-person goes rigid and passes out. A moment later, Bruce strolls down the hallway toward him as casually as if he’s heading to dinner. He folds a compact knockout dark gun back into his breast pocket. Luckily for them, all of the doors remain shut tight and there are no windows for the other employees to see any of this.

“What did you hit him with?” Tim wants to know.

“Carfentanil,” Bruce replies, stepping over the unconscious body and reaching for the thumbprint scanner at the bottom of the elevator panel. “Lucius will see to that one.”

He engages the override to skip every floor on the way down to the sub-basement.

“What’s going on?”

“Based on Batgirl’s intel, some idealistic grad student wanting to change the world. She believed the best way to kick-start the proletarian revolution was to mix Waylon Jones’ DNA with a version of Langstrom’s prototype serums, test it out on the homeless and then release them in various locations considered to be bourgeoisie strongholds of Gotham.”

Tim blinks at that. “Eat the rich?”

“Somehow I doubt that’s what Rousseau meant.”

The elevator vibrates as it speeds downward, and Bruce considers Tim out of the corner of his eye. “How long has it been since you slept?”

Twenty-three hours.

“I’m fine, B.”

“You were nodding off during the presentation by Powers Tech.”

“Because Warrick Powers is a pedantic drone that’s rehashing all of the same proposals he made last month. Even you were playing Candy Crush on your phone for half of it.”

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change. “Anyone going out tonight has to be at their best. Killer Croc is a challenge on a good day, but Oracle’s saying there have been a dozen sightings of these hybrids—”

“All the more reason you need me out there,” Tim cuts him off. As the door to the elevator opens, he strides away before Bruce can offer reason he doesn’t want Tim going out tonight. He’s been questioned enough today at work, he refuses to be called out on his night job.

Things go from weird to complicated to unbelievable within hours. As it turns out, Killer Croc is involved…but he’s working with them for once. Red Hood’s voice comes over the comms early on to caution everyone not to go after him unless he makes a move on a civilian.

“Arsenal vouches for him,” he insists, and things are so crazy no one has time to argue with him. Everyone separates into their various zones, though corralling the croc-man-bat hybrids often has them overlapping with one another.

It takes all night.

By the time the last of the test-subjects has been subdued, ready for transport to a treatment facility, dawn is just peeking over the edges of the buildings. Tim’s body aches like one big bruise. He’s got something bigger than a cat bite that needs treatment, and if his head hurt before, now it’s like his brain is bubbling out of his skull.

Everyone has checked in, which is a relief, but everyone sounds like they’ve been put through the wringer. Those that Tim can see look even worse.

Batman is on the ground, conversing with Commissioner Gordon, and from the way he’s standing, it’s clear he’s taken some damage to his ribs. On a rooftop in the distance, Tim can see Robin with his arms crossed, cape in ruins and shoulders hunched inward. He doesn’t have to see the kid’s face to know he’s scowling. Beside him, Red Hood is laughing, helmet missing and body armor ratty and torn. Tim taps his visor to magnify his vision. Hood’s entire left arm-sleeve is gone, along with the gauntlet, and he’s bleeding from a wound above his bicep.

But he doesn’t seem bothered by it. He even reaches out to ruffle Robin’s hair, then easily dodges the knife the kid swipes at him. There’s a flicker of relief that flits through Tim to see him unharmed.

Despite their past, despite the fact Jason avoids him, Tim still tries to stay hopeful about the whole thing. It’s possible things will get better and they can be friends one day, or at least tolerate each other in the way Jason and Damian do. He could handle that.

“Well that was fun,” Steph groans, dropping down beside Tim on his chosen rooftop. “I need to sleep for the next six weeks, though.”

“What are you, a groundhog?” Duke quips, alighting on the other side of him.

“If it gets me out of midterms, hell yes. Just…not the same day over and over thing.”

“I don’t understand,” Cass sighs. “Either of you.”

The usual post-Arkham-level emergency banter starts up, all snarky jokes and witty rejoinders and Tim’s just…not in the mood.

“I’ve got a final sweep to do before turning in,” he mutters. He doesn’t care if anyone hears him as he hops over the edge of the building and grapples away. There’s some chatter and questions in his ear, but he ignores it.

His adrenaline from the night’s activities is dropping, and the exhaustion he was experiencing earlier in the day is hitting him like a Mac truck. He doesn’t even want the pizza anymore, just the sleep.

There’s a dreamlike quality to the way he sways through the air like he’s not actually present in the moment. Perhaps he’ll skip the last leg of patrol too, tonight. And he can write the incident report up tomorrow, and—

Right as he hits the highest arc of his swing, there’s a snap and sudden give to his line.

It should be an automatic thing, hauling out his redundant grapple gun and fixing it to a new anchor point. This is all about timing, a practiced movement all of them trained for before Bruce even let them out of the cave.

And yet.

It’s as if time slows for just a moment.

As if he has all the time in the world to contemplate the intricacies of each separate action, the pull of his muscles and movements of his fingers. Or even the ramifications of simply letting himself fall.

For that one moment, Tim isn’t Red Robin or Tim Drake-Wayne or any number of things he’s supposed to be, he’s just. There. Existing in a void of sound and sensation, adrenaline blocking it all out, weightless and empty.

Floating.

A sudden desperate wish hits him to freeze everything like this, at this high-point forever. To stay forever frozen in the peace of a not-quite-flight.

Gravity pulls at him then, making his stomach flip, and he reaches for the redundant grapple, even as he realizes he’s too slow. The air rushes past him, the ground rises to meet him and he’s still drawing out the line, and it will be too late—

As he’s about to hit to point of no return, something clasps around his arm and yanks. Someone wrenches Tim up and forward, a hand grasping his whole forearm in a vicelike grip and it’s reflex for his fingers to clasp around it. Warmth tingles in his fingers and radiates the entirety of his arm, like laying his hand on his own personal sun. As they swing through the air, Tim’s eyes fall upon the literal lifeline that saved him.

The first thing he sees is a swirl of red and gold, the familiar winding knotwork pattern of his soulmark.

Except it’s not his.

Jason’s left arm and shoulder are bare, the mark blossoming seemingly out of nowhere halfway up his forearm. But Tim recognizes the uneven streak of hastily applied cover-up from wrist to elbow-crease—because it turns out, Jason covers his mark at all times as Bruce does.

The warmth in Tim’s hand and arm grow, stretching tendrils of heat through his body, but it burns the most where he and Jason touch. Steph once described the sensation as a lock and key interlinking, and he finally understands because there is a very physical click inside him, like tumblers slamming into place.

It’s distantly familiar, and he wonders if he might have experienced this before, but couldn’t focus on it due to being bleeding out at the time. The way their marks reach and wind about each other now, Tim doesn’t believe there’s any way for it to be ignored anymore.

His heart flutters at the idea.

Then Jason is swinging them to the nearest rooftop and abruptly lets Tim go, snatching his hand back the instant his boots hit the gravel. Tim stumbles forward, barely stopping himself from tumbling to his knees from the momentum.

He skids around to face Jason, who is already turning away, shielding the mark. When he faces Tim again, the colors recede once more beneath the spray cover-up.

“Geeze, Replacement. You gettin’ enough sleep?” he asks lightly, mouth crooked. “You almost let yourself become pavement art.”

Tim blinks, still a little lost in his head.

“I mean, I’m sure you could have engaged those tacky wings of yours before the worst happened, but cuttin’ it kind of close, don’t ya think?”

Tim’s not really thinking anything. His eyes are on Jason’s arm, where the colors of his mark have already slipped away. Because Jason is putting a very conspicuous space between them. And asking something inane, as if he’s trying to distract him.

Which he shouldn’t be doing.

He saw the mark. He would have felt what Tim felt. It should be a shock, he should be confused or angry or surprised—

Tim freezes in realization.

“You’re not surprised,” he says, the words somehow disconnected from his mouth.

“Surprised about what?”

Tim bristles at Jason’s feigned ignorance now, indignation rekindling some of his spark. “Seriously? You’re just going to—you’re really going to pretend we both didn’t see that? That we both don’t know…?”

“I think that fight rattled you,” Jason says, slow and placating. “How many times did you get hit in the head tonight?”

“You didn’t even flinch!” Tim snaps, taking a step forward. “If you hadn’t known, it would have surprised you! You might have dropped me, or yelled, or…”

Jason is backing away now, not even trying to disguise his intention and Tim darts forward, hand snatching to grab hold of Jason’s wrist. Incredible gold and deep scarlet bands of color creep up his left arm, threading along the capillaries of his skin, connecting the freckles and scars across his bare arm. There’s a corresponding warmth in Tim’s right wrist and arm.

Before either design can fully manifest, though, Jason snatches his hand back and punches Tim in the chest.

“I’m not a fan of handsy guys,” he says, though his joke is lost in the ice of his tone.

Tim barely reacts to the blow, because he’s had worse from Jason, and right now, he’s honestly too furious to register it.

“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” he accuses.

“Knew what—?”

“Don’t! Don’t lie! You’ve known—you had to have known ever since the day we met, at the Tower!” There is no argument this time, only a head-on gaze. “And you never said anything.”

“Well, it’s not like you did either,” Jason defends, discomfort coloring each word.

And there’s the confirmation; it’s more of a blow to the gut than Jason’s punch. It’s an aching, gnawing hurt, and Tim tries to tamp it down, tries to focus more on the simmering rage that is welling up alongside it.

“Because I didn’t think yours had activated,” he manages to get out. “At the time I didn’t think you were capable of…I thought if I said anything, you’d…you hated me then, and—” Comprehension smacks into him. “That’s why you didn’t bring it up, isn’t it? And then the other night, when I said all that. About soulmates. You knew what I thought about it, and that’s why you didn’t say anything.”

Jason coughs, backing away again. “Okay, glad we cleared that up.”

“If you’d said something—if you’d even acknowledged it, maybe—”

“‘Maybe’ what?” Jason challenges. “We’d magically be on track for a house and picket fence and adopting our own passel of neglected orphans?”

“Wait!”

“Yeah, no, I’m over this—”

“Jason, don’t—” He reaches out once more, hand clamping down on his shoulder and in his madness, he’s forgotten everything he knows about Jason and personal space. It all comes back in a rush when he’s suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun.

“I said I’m done,” Jason growls, and Tim swallows reflexively.

Slowly, carefully, he takes a step back.

Jason doesn’t move right away, simply stares at him, then the gun in his hand, which he lowers after a breath.

The tension doesn’t leave his shoulders though.

“This whole soulmate thing is some bullshit,” Jason snarls at last. “I hope you’ve got another option on the other arm, Drake, because I ain’t it. And I want shit-all to do with you. Follow me, and I’ll shoot you.”

He leaps from the building, and a beat later Tim watches him swing away between the skyscrapers.

It takes a while to remember how to breathe, more because of the crushed glass sensation in his throat than of any fear Jason would have shot him.

The rejection isn’t unexpected.

Honestly, it’s like a door being closed on something he hoped for even when he tried not to. There’s a finality to it that should be cathartic even.

It doesn’t hurt any less.

Well. At least now I know for sure.

Really, it’s a relief. He knew Jason didn’t like him, but he kept fooling himself with hope and occasional daydreams. And now he can’t anymore, and that’s that. It isn’t like losing Robin or no one believing him about Bruce or butting heads with Ra’s; those had workarounds. This, though, soulmates…it’s not something that can be learned or memorized or forced into being.

Time to move on.

Because Tim doesn’t get to be happy.

Body on autopilot, he returns to the Nest and sees to any obvious wounds. He concentrates on careful stitching, and then on meticulously writing up his report on the night’s events. No need to mention his argument with Jason. Tonight’s going to take his strongest sleeping pills and painkiller, he decides, the kind that will keep him from dreaming.

He considers not setting an alarm for the next morning—surely he deserves a day off, doesn’t he? Considering everything that’s happened today?

No. That would make it too easy to dwell on this, to mope. Work will keep him busy.

And he has to stay busy.

He’s meticulous about following his routine for the next few days. Immersing himself in new product designs, revising by-laws, defending more of his decisions from Bruce’s nitpicking, volunteering down at the Neon Knights shelters. He visits the remaining Titans, spends time with old school friends in Gotham and goes through the motions with his family. Outwardly it’s working but it all seems…hollow. It doesn’t sit right. Something is missing and he knows exactly what it is but can’t do anything about it.

With every fake smile and encounter with the paparazzi, always being the reliable one and having to think and plan everything through to the tiniest detail. It’s exhausting as ever.

And by night, he throws himself into every fight that comes his way.

He very deliberately avoids looking for Jason.

And it’s fine.

Really.

But at the oddest moments of the day, either at work or diving into the middle of a brawl, he remembers that crystalline moment, just after his line missed. When he was just…floating.

Tim knows that’s not a good sign, knows that he isn’t in the best headspace right now. He thinks of reaching out to Dick, the way he always does when it gets bad. He wants to tell him everything that’s going on with his day and night work, wants to admit the truth about his soulmate—

Then he remembers Dick is on his honeymoon and he doesn’t want to bother him and Barbara over this. So he heads to the manor because Alfred is always a willing ear and wise counsel. And Bruce might be making his life misery at work, but he can always be counted on to have some cases that could benefit from a second pair of eyes.

Except when he gets there, Damian informs him that Alfred is driving Bruce to some political fundraiser.

“It seems you made a wasted trip, Drake. Perhaps next time call ahead and spare yourself the trouble,” he drawls from his seat at Bruce’s desk where he’s sketching, Titus curled at his feet. The dog lifts his head and wags his tail when he sees Tim, but otherwise doesn’t move. “I’d show you to the door, but that would require me to care.”

“Always a pleasure, demon boy,” Tim sighs and sets off down the hall. He decides to take a nap in his old room; at least here the place isn’t as empty as his apartment. Damian might not be the best company, but he’s another human being within his vicinity.

Sort of.

As it turns out, Cass is still home. He can hear her laughing at something in the family room, followed by Steph’s familiar guffaws. As he passes by, he sees that they’re curled up together on the couch, arguing over the Netflix selection.

Steph catches sight of him and calls out. “Hey! When did you get here, Former Boy Wonder?”

“Uh, ten minutes ago,” he replies, leaning against the doorframe. It hits him immediately that he’s just interrupted a date night, so he doesn’t make a move to enter.

However, Cass’s all-seeing eyes rove over him and she purses her lips.

“Come and sit,” she tells him. “We have Krispy Kreme.”

“And Cass bought ketchup chips at her layover in Montreal.”

Normally the lure of donuts and chips would have him vault across the room and settle on the couch, but tonight the idea of food makes his stomach rebel.

“I might just go get some coffee,” he replies, trying to back away.

“Do that later,” Cass orders. “Stay for a bit.”

“I don’t want to interrupt anything…”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Steph rolls her eyes. “Except our weekly argument about what we should watch. Besides, we haven’t seen you since the croc-mutants thing.”

“How’s your head?” Tim asks, giving a mental sigh of defeat and shuffling into the room. Steph sustained a pretty bad concussion that day.

“Still having dizzy spells and can’t move too fast,” she replies. “The ushe.”

Tim doesn’t take a seat on the couch, though, instead sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table and dutifully taking a handful of chips. They don’t taste like anything.

Cass is frowning at him. “You okay?”

“Just tired,” Tim says, forcing what he hopes is a comforting smile. It’s not a lie, not really, but he doesn’t intend to tell her exactly what’s making him tired.

Cass accepts it, though she continues to eye him with concern. He does his best to distract her by suggesting a film he knows both of them hate, forcing another round of arguments about viewing choices.

They really don’t seem to mind him being there, and for a little while, everything’s alright. They throw popcorn at each other and complain about Bruce’s uptightness and gossip about their respective villain drama and mock each other for failing at their New Years Resolutions after only three weeks.

Eventually the girls become engrossed in the movie. Of course, it’s one of the token soulmate plotlines that he immediately skips over on the rare nights he has time to watch television. And Tim becomes more and more conscious of how Steph and Cass lean into one another. Cass’s fingers run through Steph’s hair and Steph hides her face in Cass’s neck when a truly cringe-worthy sappy scene comes up.

They look so…content.

Happy.

At peace.

I’m never going to have that, Tim realizes and it’s this that makes his stomach twist, want to throw up and scream and cry.

Because he’s always been alone, but there’s always been that lingering hope that one day he wouldn’t be. That even if it wasn’t a romantic soulmate relationship, he’d still have someone.

Everyone he has loved has left him behind; even the one person in the world who was never supposed to.

“What would you have done?” he finds himself asking, staring at the screen where the male and female lead are mired in their stereotypical big-misunderstanding-fueled fight. They hurl words at each other that they obviously don’t mean but were clearly written to be devastating.

Cass and Steph look up, both somewhat startled by his question.

“What would we have done for what?” Steph wonders.

“If Cass had hated you. Or if Steph had hated you.”

Both their faces go blank. Cass’s mouth turns downward as if she is puzzling out a difficult question, while Steph shudders. “I can’t even imagine it.”

“Me neither,” Cass adds.

Tim hums, having expected that answer even if it doesn’t help him.

“Hey—what are you so worried about?” Steph asks, nudging his shoulder with her foot. “It’s a big world. It’s not your fault or the end of the world that your soulmate died.”

Tim’s hand strays to his wrist. He’s covered it up around anyone in the Family since he woke up and learned that Jason Todd had almost killed him. As far as Steph or anyone in the family is concerned, he no longer has a mark.

“You can still have fulfilling relationships,” Steph goes on. “You know, if you get over your secretive and control-freak ways and your tendency to eat Hawaiian pizza.”

Tim snorts. “Says the girl who would eat waffles every meal of the day.”

“Hey, that’s a valid meal choice—do you realize how many different types of savory waffles are out there?”

“No wonder you’re beginning to spill out of your uniform,” Damian’s voice disdains from the doorway. Titus lopes at the boy’s heels. “You and Cain have been colonizing the couch for three hours now. I intend to play Inquisition without your hovering, so leave.”

“You mean you intend to spend three hours on character creation before getting stuck in the Hinterlands for the next week and finally throwing the controller at the screen in frustration and not touching the game again for another month?” Tim asks.

“If I want your input, Drake, I’ll—” Damian considers. “I’ll never want your input. Now shut up and stay out of it. Brown, I demand you all vacate the room immediately or I will force you to.”

“Rude.”

“Eleven televisions on this floor,” Cass adds. “One in your room, even.”

“This one has the best resolution for gaming. You go to one of the other ones. You’re not doing anything important in here.”

“There’s nothing more important than Netflix and chill with the boo,” Steph replies. She’s playing with her phone and then chuckles, angling it so Cass can see, earning a bright laugh in return.

Damian looks disgusted. “I sincerely hope when I meet my soulmate, I am not so ridiculous about it as you two, or Grayson.”

“We are not ridiculous,” Cass replies. “We are normal.”

There’s immeasurable pleasure in that word; Tim knows it’s not often she gets to use it in relation to herself. Once again he thinks himself a complete tool for being jealous of her and Steph.

“Hopefully I will take after Father,” Damian continues, sitting in the armchair across from them.

“Emotionally stunted and anal-retentive?” Steph suggests, earning snorts of laughter from everyone but the blood scion of Wayne.

“In terms of soulmates,” Damian emphasizes; Tim notices he didn’t bother correcting Steph’s assessment of Bruce. “I will not make a total fool over the person I have been assigned.”

“First of all, soulmates aren’t assigned,” Steph says, “and second, B is totally foolish over Selina. Why else does she never get sent to jail? And what do you call Alfred putting up with his bull after all these years?”

“Tt. Perhaps you have a point.” Damian seems to reconsider, before glancing at Tim with a frown. “I suppose in this, you’ve had some luck, Drake.”

That brings him up short, both the implied compliment and the sentiment behind it. “…How?”

“Your soulmate is dead.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence in the room.

“Damian!” Steph cries, sitting up and dislodging Cass’s fingers to stare at him in horror. “You can’t say stuff like that!”

“Why not? It’s true.”

Now would be the time to correct everyone. Tim doesn’t bother.

“That’s not—I meant you shouldn’t wish your soulmate was dead, especially since you haven’t even met them yet.”

“I hope I never do,” Damian insists. “Look at Drake—his soulmate cannot be exploited as a weakness by some clever criminal. He will never have to lie about his identity if the individual turns out to have questionable morals—consider how long Father was forced to hide his identity from Catwoman. And Drake is now free to pursue or avoid any relationship he wishes, without having to worry it will be interrupted by the untimely arrival of a soulmate.” His expression smooths a little, becoming more thoughtful than petulant. “He is free in a way none of us are.”

Cass tilts her head to one side. “That is oddly…insightful of you.”

“And really kind of depressing,” Steph groans.

“And my cue to leave,” Tim says, standing. He forces an easy tone. “If Damian starts envying me, the Apocalypse must be about to start. I should get an early start to patrol just in case.”

“No, Tim! Stay—see what you did, Damian? Apologize.”

“That’s not happening.”

“It’s fine,” Tim dismisses, already leaving the room. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Be careful,” Cass cautions, her tone somehow knowing.

Tim flees before she decides to really focus on him, but not before Steph can hurry out after him.

“Hey, ignore what he said,” his ex-girlfriend says, looking both worried and intent at the same time. “He’s never had a soulmate, so he doesn’t understand how serious it is to say something like that.”

“No…it’s actually fine,” Tim assures her.

In fact, far from being insulted by Damian’s words, Tim finds himself latching on to them and the logic they represent. The last thing he wants to be is that cautionary tale, like the kid people pity who shuts down his whole life because their crush didn’t like them back.

“Are you sure?” Steph asks. “Because Cass is right, you don’t look okay tonight.”

“I really am just tired,” he insists once again. “I think I’ll skip patrol tonight. Get some sleep.”

She lets out a relieved puff of breath. “Well, that’s something at least.”

“Enjoy your movie—or your impending war with Damian over rights to the family room. Whatever.”

“Oh, he’s in for it if he tries,” Steph smiles a truly fiendish smile, similar to the one she turns on criminals before she breaks their jaw. “Night, Tim.”

“Night.”

He continues on his way to his room, while Steph turns back to the family room. She pauses though, and says, “I was thinking…if she did? Hate me, I mean?”

Tim turns his head to acknowledge her.

“I’d probably still stick around nearby,” Steph says; she rubs at her shoulder, clearly discomfited by the idea. “Just to make sure she was happy, I guess? It’d give me peace of mind, even if I couldn’t be with her. You know?”

Tim’s carefully maintained façade of functionality wavers a little. His eyes soften a bit and he offers Steph a small smile. “I do. Good thing you’ll never have to worry about that, right?”

“Yeah…”

They exchange bittersweet smiles for a moment. Tim bets she’s remembering the day it became clear she and Tim wouldn’t ever be anything more than friends. Then Steph disappears into the family room.

Tim strolls down the corridor to his quarters, frowning with a new resolve. He doesn’t have it in him to stick around and make sure Jason is alright and happy; he can’t even think about the situation without the growing lump in his throat slicing into him.

So, it’s best to focus on filling his life with other pursuits.

From that point on, he renews his goal to immerse himself in work.

WE by day and Red Robin by night. He loads up case after case, reasoning his way through elaborate mental games with villains and rogues, and sends in work for his correspondence courses at Ivy University.

He exists on coffee and sleeping pills and four hours of sleep a night, but he’s too exhausted to fixate, and that’s the important part.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

This blog isn’t my primary, so my reblogs don’t show up very well. As such, please reblog the fic, otherwise not a lot of people are going to see it :)

<3 Violet

11 notes · View notes

aspiecrow · 7 years

Note

All the DC asks :P

1. “Duet” from the Flash or “Mayheim of the Music Meister” from Batman the Brave and the Bold?

“Mayhem of the Music Meister”. “Duet” pissed me off so much on so many different levels. The fact that they think making an original character whose powers aren’t even music-based and just slapping the name “Music Meister” on him is enough to make fans of him happy, as well as the fact that it has Kara and her abusive dickhead boyfriend Mon-El get back together after a day of being broken up (for VERY good reasons) just made me furious enough that I couldn’t enjoy one single part of it.

2. Do you like the arrowverse? If so what’s your favorite show?

Nope. I loved the first season of Supergirl (in spite of a few problems), but then the CW got its hands on the show and completely destroyed what it was.

3. First comic read?

A UK reprint of Batman. It was already about halfway through “Hush”, but I followed along relatively easily and really enjoyed it.

4. What introduced you to the DC universe? Was it a show, comic or movie?

I think it was the New Batman Adventures cartoon, but it might have also been the 60s show (which got repeated a lot on TV over here).

5. Favorite character?

A three-part tie between Batman, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown.

6. Favorite cannon ship?

Tim/Steph.

7. Favorite non-cannon ship?

Raven/Cassandra Cain.

8. Pre-N52 or N52?

Pre-N52, of course. Anything good in the N52 (of which there were very few) could have happened without the N52 (and, in some cases, like the basic story of the Court of Owls, would have been better if they had).

9. Rebirth or N52?

Rebirth. There’s still a lot wrong (the treatment of Cass and Steph, for one), but overall, it’s most definitely a step in the right direction.

10. Death in the Family or Death of Superman?

Hmmmm, both have their good and bad points. “Family” paved the way for Tim, but “Superman” paved the way for Steel and Superboy. I think I’ll go with Death of Superman, though, purely because Death in the Family had the whole “vote to kill or save Jason” thing, which was quite the hot mess.

11. Favorite live action movie?

Batman (1989)

12. Favorite animated movie?

Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (also my favourite DC movie overall)

13. DCEU or DCAU?

DCAU, definitely. However, while I hated Man of Steel and Suicide Squad and really didn’t like Dawn of Justice, I loved Wonder Woman, so I’m hoping we’re on track with the DCEU (though I still refer to it as the DCCU, because I’m pedantic).

14. Favorite member of the trinity?

I love them all, but Batman has a slight edge.

15. Dark trinity or trinity?

Trinity.

16. Outsiders or Titans?

Titans.

17. Teen Titans or Young Justice?

Young Justice.

18. Favorite animated show?

A tie between “Batman: The Animated Series” and “Justice League/Justice League Unlimited”.

19. Favorite superhero family?

Batman Family

20. Young justice(show) or Teen Titans(show)?

Teen Titans.

21. Do you watch Teen Titans Go?

Hoo, boy, that’s a can of worms. Initially, yes. I actually didn’t mind it. It was a goofy show that wasn’t meant to be anything other than that. It sucked that it was on and Young Justice (which had gotten a lot better with Season 2) was constantly sidelined and then cancelled, but I tried not to let that affect how I watched the show. Then they started insulting fans of the old Teen Titans show and getting progressively more mean-spirited. I dropped it like a hot potato the second that happened.

22. Favorite Robin?

Tim Drake.

23. So you prefer Superman and Wonder Woman, Batman and Wonder Woman, steve Trevor and Wonder Woman or does it even matter?

I’m okay with Batman and Wonder Woman, but honestly, I’ve never been a particularly big fan of any of them. The Superman and Wonder Woman pairing needs to die in a fire, though.

24. If you had total control what would you change?

Oh, God, what WOULDN’T I change? This’ll probably have to be its own post, honestly.

25. Batgirl or Oracle?

I’m assuming this is which mantle I prefer Barbara Gordon as? In that case, Oracle, no question.

26. Whos your favorite Batgirl?

Cassandra Cain. I love Steph, but she REALLY shouldn’t have been Batgirl.

27. Batgirl and the birds of Prey or Red Hood and the Outlaws?

Batgirl and the Birds of Prey, because as far as I’m aware, it’s not written by a disgusting human being.

28. Favorite comic run?

Scott Peterson, Kelley Puckett and Damion Scott's run on Batgirl.

29. Favorite comic artist?

Alex Ross or J.H. Williams III. I really like Jim Lee too, but just as an artist.

30. Favorite comic writer?

Gail Simone, Greg Rucka, Paul Dini or Dan Jurgens

31. Do you like The Joker?

When he’s written well, yep! Of course, that goes for more or less every character.

32. Who do you think is the most overused or overrated characters?

Harper Row. In her first few appearances, I really liked her and she definitely has a lot of potential. However, throughout “Batman Eternal” and “Batman and Robin Eternal”, she was shilled constantly, especially at the expense of Stephanie and Cassandra, and it’s infuriating.

33. Batman the animated series or Superman the animated series?

I love Superman: The Animated Series, but Batman: The Animated Series is just amazing.

34. Legion of Superheros or Batman Beyond?

Batman Beyond. I never really watched Legion of Superheroes.

36. Justice league or Justice league Unlimited?

Both.

37. The Batman or beware the Bat?

Neither. I hated both of them.

38. Who do you think is the most overlooked or underused character?

Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain.

39. Do you watch Gotham?

Yep, but it’s awful and like watching a trainwreck. Season 4 is marginally better (props for actually getting someone who isn’t white to play Ra’s al Ghul, even if they’re still butchering the pronounciation), but it’s still a dumpster fire.

40. Do you like marvel?

Mostly. I’ve hated what they’ve done with Spider-Man ever since One More Day (which turned Peter into a villain, because only villains makes deals with the devil, especially once that erase a child from existence), and the whole “Jubilee’s a vampire thing” is crap (Jubilee is my favourite character, and the fact that she lost her powers but freakin’ Peepers got to keep his is atrocious), and let’s not even get started on Nick Spencer and his bullshit. But there’s still a lot I do like.

41. Jon kent or Damian Wayne?

Jon Kent. Damian has grown on me (even if there’s been this disturbing “Damian is Bruce’s one true son” trend in the comics lately), but Jon is just adorable.

42. Renee Montoya or Vic Sage

Both!

43. Kate Kane and Renee Montoya or Apollo and Midnighter?

I’m a firm Kate/Maggie shipper, so Apollo/Midnighter.

44. Barry Allen or Wally West?

Wally West. Barry Allen has two modes: mind-numbingly dull or “Let’s steal Wally’s personality”.

45. Kara Zor-El, Stephanie Brown or Cassie sandsmark?

Stephanie Brown

46. Kord Industrues, Wayne Tech or Lex Corp?

Wayne Tech

47. If you could have any characters powers who’s would you have?

Superman’s

48. Favorite villain?

Constantly changes, but as of me writing this, The Riddler.

49. DC Bombshells, Injustice or Kingdom Come?

Haven’t read DC Bombshells yet, and I hate Injustice, so Kingdom Come.

50. Injustice or the Arkham games?

The Arkham games.

51. Justice League or League of Assassins?

Justice League.

52. Are you excited about the upcoming Titans show? What about Young Justice?

Sort of. I’m cautiously optimistice. Definitely happy that Steph’s finally getting to appear in an adaptation (just worried that she’ll not be handled well, especially since Young Justice Season 2 ended with Tim and Cassie getting together for literally no reason). With Titans, I’m quite bitter that we’re probably not getting Cyborg, and I’m worried about the age difference between Raven’s actress and the rest of the cast (they should all be the same age).

#DC Comics #dalekofchaos

2 notes · View notes

cephalog0d · 1 year

Text

Batfic - "Musical Costumes"

Rating: Teen and Up (Language)

Category: Gen

Relationships/Characters: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd & Tim Drake & Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas & Damian Wayne & Barbara Gordon & Alfred Pennyworth; Dick Grayson (mentioned)

Additional Tags: Humor, Banter, Batkids Being Batsibs

Words: 1,057

Summary:

There was a quiet moment before Jason felt the prickle of eyes and looked up from where he'd been absently scratching lines in the arm of the chair (sorry Alfred) to see the collective attention of the room placed on him.

"Absolutely fucking not," he snapped vehemently.

(Full text after the cut or over on AO3)

"-so someone will have to be spotted as Nightwing a few times for the next week or so," Bruce's briefing concluded. There was a quiet moment before Jason felt the prickle of eyes and looked up from where he'd been absently scratching lines in the arm of the chair (sorry Alfred) to see the collective attention of the room placed on him.

"Absolutely fucking not," he snapped vehemently.

"You are the closest-" Bruce started.

"No I'm fucking not!" Jason gestured at his own torso to emphasize the point.

"Height-wise you are," Steph added very unhelpfully. "Weight wise it's more…equidistant," she conceded with a loose wave between Jason and Tim.

"Technically Duke is the closest but I think even Gotham's criminal masterminds might notice that," Tim threw out, pedantic as ever.

"What, because I'm a meta?" Duke asked with an impressively straight face.

"Yes," Tim said in the same flat tone. Cass only barely tried to muffle a laugh. Steph didn't try at all. Jason chose to ignore all of them, glaring defiantly at Bruce, who mostly just looked like he wanted a nap. Or a child free vacation. Whatever, it was his own fault he kept collecting more and that they were all awful.

"No," Jason repeated. "I am not running around in that stupid suit just because Dickhead managed to break himself showing off."

"That is not an accurate-" Damian interjected, predictably jumping to Dick's defense in absentia.

"You have before," Cass interrupted him neatly. Her expression was a lot more controlled than Steph's, but her eyes were bright with suppressed laughter.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jason said pointedly.

"Dick's current suit isn't even that bad. It's not like you have to wear the old Robin suit. Again," Tim said mildly. Jason narrowed his eyes at Tim, who met his gaze unflinchingly and took a slow, deliberate drink.

"Boys," Bruce cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Jason decided to temporarily let it go and ignore both the way Tim smirked behind his cup and Steph's quiet "oooooh".

"Do it yourself," Jason challenged Bruce, earning a burst of laughter from the rest of the room. Bruce's expression did the constipated thing that usually meant he was at least mildly regretting his choices in family. Good.

"Oh my god please do, I will pay so much money to see that," Steph gasped breathlessly.

"Stephanie." Bruce's reprimand, predictably, did nothing to silence her.

"Father has his own duties as Batman," Damian said snippily.

"Additionally, I do not believe Master Bruce's joints would appreciate those kind of acrobatics," Alfred added as he appeared and started clearing things off the table.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said with another sigh.

"Cass can do all that flippy bullsh-oot," Jason hastily corrected when Alfred glanced at him.

"Are you saying you can't?" Cass asked sweetly.

“Of course he can’t,” Damian scoffed not all that quietly.

“Damian,” Bruce said. Cass ignored them both. She met Jason's glare for several seconds, just smiling and waiting.

"I know what you're doing," Jason finally said, jabbing a finger at her.

"But it's still working," Tim muttered.

"No, it's not."

"It's okay if you can't," Cass said sympathetically. "I can."

The right answer was to leave it at that and walk away and Jason knew that, he wasn't an idiot and he didn't have to prove anything to these assholes, he should just get up and leave and let them sort their shit out amongst themselves, they were manipulating him, Cass with her disingenuous smile and Steph with her barely restrained laughter and Tim with his infuriating little smirk and Damian with his condescending sneer and Duke just watching them all with amusement while he finished his post-patrol sandwich.

But.

That spiteful little thing in his chest that had guided so many of his most ill advised decisions in the past had taken hold and just because he knew they were baiting him didn't mean he didn't still want to prove them wrong.

"Fine!" he snapped finally. "Fu-reaking fine!" Alfred gave him a knowing look but didn't say anything about the slip. "I refuse to do the stupid puns, though." He could at least draw that line.

"It's okay if you're not clever enough to do that part," Tim said with a condescending pat on the arm. Jason very maturely did not break his fucking fingers, but he did bare his teeth in what was only barely a smile.

"I'm going to glitter bomb your apartment. Emphasis on the bomb." Okay so not that mature, so sue him, Tim started it. Tim opened his mouth, presumably to say something even more inflammatory, but got interrupted.

"Boys," Bruce said again, more sharply. “Tim, leave your brother alone. Jason, thank you for your assistance. Stephanie, whatever you’re planning don’t.”

Steph made an affronted noise and widened in her eyes in a comically innocent expression that did not fool anyone for even a second.

“Right, well, some of us have been up all day,” Duke said as he stood. “Good luck, Hoodwing.” He left the room, grinning, as Tim choked on his drink and Bruce sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Hoodwing?” Cass repeated thoughtfully, testing out the word. “Redwing? Nighthood?”

“I like Nighthood,” Babs’s voice spoke up. None of them would admit to being startled, but several of them did perhaps sit up a little straighter at the sudden addition.

“Have you been listening this whole time?” Jason asked, and immediately mentally face-palmed.

“Jason.”

“I know, I heard it when I said it.”

“Anyway, I’ve got some alerts that need looking into, if you’ve all decided who’s wearing what costume.”

“No one else is swapping costumes,” Bruce said sternly. “Everyone go get ready. Oracle, tell me what you’ve got.”

There was a brief scramble of finishing drinks and snacks and everyone broke to go gear up. Steph had a scheming look that Jason absolutely did not trust in the slightest but she was dragged off by Cass before he could get a further read on it.

A few minutes later, though, he got a text.

((I have a whole headcanon that people swapping costumes temporarily is just a commonplace thing for Secret Identity purposes, because half of them are public figures, so if one of them gets injured or has to travel as a civilian they'll get one of the others to be spotted in their suit while they're out so nobody puts together "This Bat doesn't show up when this Well Known Public Figure is out of town/obviously injured".

(Hey remember in Batgirl: Year One where Bats made Dick dress up as her to throw Gordon off her trail?)

Of course, some people make better duplicates than others.

(Tim is referencing the fact that in the comics, Jason was fully wearing a copy of his old Robin costume, complete with the lack of pants, during their infamous Titans Tower altercation. Because I will never let go of that fact, it is absurd, absolute drama queen Jason Todd, what a doofus, I love him. Cass is referencing in preboot Nightwing where there was an arc where Jason was running around murdering folks in a Nightwing costume to undermine Dick.)))

#Batman later: Why are the only suits left in the cave the ones that are brightly colored #Bruce doing the Bob's Burgers 'you're my family and i love you but you're all terrible'#According to canon stats Duke is like 1 inch and 5 pounds smaller than Dick so he would in fact be the closest match size-wise #Agent of Chaos Stephanie Brown #Tim Drake Being A Little Shit #(mostly to Jason who has more than earned it honestly)#Jason Todd is powered by spite #Cass is also a Troll here #writing #ceph writes things #batfam #jason todd #cassandra cain #tim drake #stephanie brown #duke thomas #damian wayne #bruce wayne

60 notes · View notes