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Chapter Text

“You gonna eat all that yourself?”

“No.”

“Can I ha-”

“No.”

Tim pouted, hands reaching uselessly for the plate that Jason had in front of him. He smacked away the feeling tentacles and stabbed his fork back into the waffles.

“It’s not fair.” He whined. “You break into my house, buy me groceries, wash my perfectly clean clothes- ”

“Those were not clean.” Jason interjected. “You hadn’t washed them in two weeks. They were nasty.”

“ PERFECTLY CLEAN clothes, take over my kitchen, make waffles, and don’t offer me any? Geez.” Tim scrunched up his face, like some disgruntled small kitten.

“I ain’t going to the Manor, Alfie’s great and all, but it’s his kitchen, but you have a perfectly good kitchen you don’t even use. Seriously, there’s a layer of dust on the counter, like, a centimeter thick.”

“Excuses, Excuses.” Tim reached out a hand again and got smacked away. “Pleeeease? They smell really good.”

“What do you do?” Jason continued on, not even bothering to respond. “Go out for takeout every night? Eat exclusively Alfred leftovers? Consume only coffee and granola bars? A perfectly nice kitchen, and you don’t even bother to make use of it. Spoiled rich kids.”

“Bold of you to assume I eat dinner at all.” Tim mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

“No, wait, hold up, what did you mean?”

“I just don’t have a lot of time for food.” Tim shrugged. “Not really a priority. I mean, I fit breakfast in. Sometimes. Dinner happens at the office. Occasionally. But hey, coffee is life, coffee is love, coffee is the only friend I need. And granola bars. And cheez-its. And marshmallows. You get the point.”

“....”

“....”

“That’s really disturbing.” Jason finally said.

Tim blinked. “Why?”

Jason had no words. No words. 

“Anyway, on that note, considering I didn't have dinner last night either, or breakfast, could I have some waffles? Please?”

The waffle maker dinged and both of them jumped. Jason opened it up and transferred the waffles inside to another plate, and slid it over to Tim. The fearsome vigilante practically started vibrating at the sight.

“I was making some for you anyway.” Jason said gruffly. “Honestly, you’re so needy. Geez.”

“Dank ooh!” Tim said excitedly, mouth already stuffed with waffles. “Dis i’ so good. Can ooh cook fo’ me fo’ever?”

“What? No. That’s gross, chew, bleh. I’m not cooking for you again if you talk while eating.”

Tim shut his mouth real quick, looking conflicted between opening his mouth and saying sorry, while also fearing the consequences. It was hilarious, honestly.

“Eat it all, ‘k? Not eating dinner. Honestly.” He grumbled, going back to his own waffles. “What is the world coming to. In my day, I wasn’t allowed to leave for patrol without Alfred checking to make sure I was healthy every three seconds.”

“Oh, he checked. He just gave up eventually. Not like B really cared, anway. Sayyyyy, you know what this would taste really good with?”

“Whaddya mean, B didn’t- hang on. What are you doing. What are you doing. You’re committing a war crime, right there. That’s blasphemy against the cooking deities. That’s incredibly offensive to my sensitive cooking senses. Stop it. Stop it now. Please, nooooo.” Giving up on trying to tug the container away from Tim, he slumped down onto the counter to avoid looking at the insult to food.

Tim, predictively, ignored him, and continued to add the marshmallows, goldfish, pepperoni onto the waffle. “Delicious.” He grinned.

“Not delicious. Horrid. Grotesque. Victor Frankenstien made that, that’s how bad it is.”

“Frankenstein? The monster?”

“ The monster. ” Jason sat up straight, all thoughts of waffles forgotten. “ THE MONSTER . What has the school system become? Listen here, the monster’s name is NOT Frankestein. Frankenstein is the guy who made the monster. We never get the monster’s name, Mary Shelley only referred to it as ‘the monster’. Popular culture and the media simply twisted your brain into believing that.”

“Mary Shelley? Who’s that?”

“Who is Mary ShELLEY-! How. How do you not know these things. You were supposed to be the smart Robin. You were supposed to be the guy who knew everything.”

“Not really.” Tim said, shrugging. “You were always the nerd. I’m the geek.”

“...Yeah, that sounds about right. And FOR YOUR INFORMATION, Mary Shelley is the lady who wrote Frankenstein.”

“Mk, cool.” Tim said, pushing away his plate of waffles. “Thanks for the food, I’ve got a meeting in an hour though, gotta go.”

Jason caught his hand before he could go however, and pulled him back to the table. “Eat.” He growled. “You are going to eat those waffles even if I have to stare you down while you do it. Skip dinner, my a- asexual reproduction. You ain’t skippin’ no meals.”

“This is breakfast.”

“You ain’t skippin’ no meals.” Jason repeated, eyes flashing. “Now, sit, and I am going to tell you what Frankenstein is actually about, and why it is so important to modern society. Let’s start with how the women in Frankenstein represent social issues. “

Tim sent a text to postpone his meeting, then yelped as Jason confiscated his phone.

“Social. Issues.”

Jason scrubbed the porcelain a little harder, attempting to focus on the pearly whiteness instead of the apartment. The very messy apartment. The piles of clothes. The random mugs, takeout containers that littered the ground. He wasn’t thinking about it. Nope. Don’t think about it.

Who was he kidding?

Jason finished drying the plate and set it onto the stack of similar, gleaming plates. He’d found the lot in the sink, nasty and obviously unwashed. There was one clean dish in the whole place. One. And it was a plastic plate.

The apartment was so messy.

It was kind of alarming.

What was Tim doing with his life?

He’d asked him, after the movie they’d spent half the morning watching, just before Tim sipped out the door for some ‘really important meeting, Jason, I can’t miss this, it’s our Tokyo investors’. He’d looked at him quizzically, like a baby bird.

“Jason, I’m in charge of a Fortune 500 company, run around punching bad guys at night, and keep up a photography habit on top of it all. I really don’t have time to clean. I don’t like the way my apartment is, I just don’t have the time… or motivation… to do anything about it.”

Depressing, was what that was.

Jason was the opposite. He had way too much time. Outside of Red Hood, Jason Todd didn’t really… exist much. Yeah, he had a library card, a cooking blog, and Bruce was working on the whole ‘legally alive’ thing. But till then, he wasn’t doing much with his life.

He wondered…

Did Tim have another room open?

He wasn’t going to be no maid or nothin’. Of course not. But his trashy apartment got lonely sometimes. It’d be nice to have another person around. Tim's apartment had a nice kitchen as well. He'd definently use that. And clearly, Tim needed another person to help him. Especially to eat. In fact, Jason was going to make another grocery run. Get rid of the seventeen different types of raeman hiding out in the back cupboard he’d found.

It was just an idea, after all.

But the kid needed to eat.

Chapter Text

“I always wanted a pet.”

“You realize you can’t keep this thing, right?”

“Why not? It’s cute.”

“It’s a dragon.”

“Yeah, and?”

“It’s a dragon.” Jason repeated. “A small, baby dragon. A fire breathing, flying, scaly dragon. It’s already like thirty pounds, what are you going to do when it gets bigger? How about feeding it? It’s already eaten the entirety of your fridge- not that there was much in there to begin with- and my fridge, and my freezer, and it’s currently working through my pantry.”

“Well, I-”

“And what about the legality of it all?” Jason continued. “Pretty sure it’s illegal to own a dragon or something. You could get arrested. And what if it burns your house down? Or hurts you? Or Bruce finds out? He’s not going to let you keep a dragon. Or Damian, for that matter, the kid would steal him away and raise the creature himself, knowing the kid.”

The purple scally blob in question finished chowing it’s way through the collection of goldfish that Jason kept at his safehouses and sat back on it’s haunches to burp. They’d had to flee to one of his safehouses after it became abundantly clear that there were far too many flammable objects in their shared apartment. A little ball of flame came out as it burped, burning a blackened circle into Jason’s beloved kitchen cabinets.

“But it’s so cute!” Tim squealed. “Just look it at!”

The purple blob ambled over to Jason, and sat on his foot, claws digging in and all.

“Cute.” He hissed. “Cute? Mr.I-have-knives-on-my-paws?”

“See? You’re already giving him nicknames.”

Why. Why did he get roped into this. He glared at the purple blob, and the dragon looked back up at him, innocently wide-eyed. As soon as Tim bent over to save what was left of the goldfish, though, the little beast stuck out his (her?) tongue out at Jason.

No.

No, they were not adopting a sentient dragon.

“Did you see that?” Jason seethed. “Little bugger stuck his tongue out at me. I refuse. I’m not living with this thing.”

“He was probably tasting the air or something. You know, like a snake.” Tim rationalized. He finished salvaging the snack that smiles back (Jason hated goldfish. They looked at you while you ate them. And smiled. Like some deranged lunatic. [Joker] Creepy, creepy.) “I’m sure he likes you too.”

“Suuuuure. All that aside, what about its parents? It’s obviously a baby, no grown dragon would be that small or act the way it down.”

Tim paused. “I… I don’t know.”

Sensing victory was near, Jason made his voice soft and gentle. “Tim. He- she- it needs their parents. We can’t take that away from them.”

Tim crumbled a little, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. Almost. One more push.

“Look, Tim, at the very least, let's contact Bruce and Zatanna, see if they can find it’s parents.”

Tim sighed. “Fine. We’ll just ask. But if it doesn’t have parents, we’ll keep it, right?”

“I can’t make any promises, Tim. The little fuc- er, I mean, little dragon might be better suited with, like, a dragon foster family, or something.” Jason said, silently thanking the stars above that this was working.

Tim’s eyes dimmed a little, but he nodded sadly, looking a bit like a sad kitten that had been left by himself in a cold room and had curled up for warmth. Don’t hug. Don’t hug. Don’t… Who was he kidding? Jason slung an arm around Timbo’s shoulder, and the small kid (teenager, really, but he was so tiny) studied the purple blob mournfully.

“C’mon Timberly. Move it. Get it over with.”

Still faintly looking like a kitten who’s puppy friend at the adoption center had been taken by another family, Tim took a deep breath, summoning strength, and picked up Purple Blob Dragon. Jason dragged the two out the door and into the car, under the guise of comforting Tim with his arm around his shoulders. That’s all it was. A distraction. Not a response to Tim’s obviously despondent expression.

The drive to the Manor took far too long for Jason’s liking, considering the way Tim was whispering to the dragon quietly. Reassurances, apparently. He just wasn’t sure if they were meant for the death creature or Tim himself.

Alfred met them as soon as they pulled in, looking not at all surprised to see the dragon in Tim’s arms.

“Ah, another one.” He said cryptically. “Follow me.”

Alfred led them down to the Cave, where two huge, gimongous, colossal, tremendous,  vast… (you know what, just pull up the thesaurus entry for big and it still wouldn’t cover it) dragons sat. Five smaller dragons, all different shades but similar looking to the one in Tim’s arms crawled over them. The dragons were conversing with the Bats, every single one present, but out of costume. The booming voices caused the little guy in Tim’s arms to wriggle out and scamper over to the (read the entire thesaurus entry) dragons.

“Daughter!” One exclaimed joyfully, rocking the very foundations of the Cave with its shout.

Huh. So it was a girl.

“Jason. Tim.” Bruce called out. “You found her.”

“Uh, yes?” Tim replied, confused. “Technically? I found her last night during patrol, and brought her back to my place. Jason got me to take her to you guys. What’s up with this all?”

Dick stepped forward and waved a hand at the pair of towering figures. “A dragon couple from another dimension accidentally got transported here. They all were a bit scattered when they landed, so the kids were lost in different parts of Gotham and Bludhaven. We’re lucky they were found before any sort of traffickers picked them up- though the kids probably could have handled it on their own.”

As if on cue, one of the small scaly blobs took in a deep breath the let out a burst of fire that incinerated a workbench. Tim made a small whimpering noise, and- oh. That was Tim’s work bench. Ouch.

“There was an alert sent out to all operatives.” Damian added snidely. “Did you imbeciles not get it?”

Ohhhhhh yeah. Jason never got calls from the Bats, unless they were real emergencies, and for the most part, he depended on Tim to tell him that stuff. Tim, who had gone on a light patrol the night before, nabbed the blob of doom, then headed back to crash from two all-nighters in a row (Waynetech had some big announcement coming up). The alert had probably been sent out later.

Tim explained the situation, Damian mocked him for it, the usual, but the dragon couple had gathered up their children and were…. Opening a portal? Sweet. Terry Pratchett level stuff, right there. So cool.

Suddenly, purple blob made a break for it and ran straight towards Tim. Jason made an aborted movement to stop him, but it was too late- the tiny dragon was hanging on to Tim, claws digging into Tim’s shirt.

“Hey buddy.” Tim said softly. “I’ll miss you.”

The dragon chirruped, then roughly licked Tim’s face, causing the kid to chuckle.

“Yeah? You’ll miss me too?”

“Meep!”

“Bye buddy.”

The miniature demon kitten released its claws, bounded back to her mother, then the entire family flew off. Standing close, Jason could see Timbo surreptitiously wipe his eyes.

“Hey, Timberlina, you ok?”

“I- yeah. I’m fine.” Tim bit his lip. “Fine. Let’s go home.”

The drive back was quiet, Tim staring pensively out the window, watching the buildings flash by. As soon as Jason parked the car, the kid (not very) subtly pressed up against Jason, leaning into his side, eyes a bit red. Maybe he’d been crying, against the window?

Jason hadn’t seen Tim like, well, ever. The guy never cried. Or was sad. Annoyed, sure. Fake distraught, heck yeah, his sarcasm was famous.  Depressed? Sometimes. But that was different, a sort of bone deep tired, not this resigned, soft sadness.

He’d literally known that baby dragon for a few hours. What was up with this?

Jason pushed open the door and stopped short. Tim bumped into him, pressing even closer into his side, not bothering to leave his new position.

The apartment was trashed- it had been early when the two Reds had been forced to vacate, and the damage hadn’t been very visible. But now, he could see the extensive burns, broken furniture, and the empty pantry.

“Guess we’re remodeling.” Tim mumbled into his side.

“Yeah.” Jason said softly. “Yeah. Dang, she really did a number on the place.”

Tim hummed in agreement. He finally slipped away from Jason’s side, flopping onto the charred couch.

“Jack and Janet hated animals.” He started, without any preamble. “I tried to get a snake when I was seven- found it out on the grounds. When I showed them Greg, on one the the rare weeks they were home, they flipped out and made me give it to them. Pretty sure they killed it. I always wanted a pet. When I moved to the Manor, I thought about asking, but…. It never really happened. Considering all the pets Damian got, maybe I should’ve. Or not. Don’t know if they would’ve let me.”

Oh.

Gosh, that was really sad.

Why was Timmy always so sad ?

Jason awkwardly patted Tim on the back. “Do you, um, want to watch a movie or something? To get your mind of things?”

“Sure.”

He put Princess Bride on, nothing offensive or animal related there, except the horses(Tim absolutely was terrified of horses. They’d had to deal with some themed ‘horseman of the apocalypse’ a few months back and Tim had, for once in his life, told Bruce that he simply could not deal with the large animals, and he was sitting it out. They’re just too big, he’d said). His roommate fell asleep within minutes.

Time to slip out.

The next day, exhausted from the hours he’d spent trying to figure out what, exactly, small creatures needed to live, everything was made worth it by the single squeal Tim gave out.

“Jason! Jason! There’s a cat. A cat. Did you get me a cat? Oh my gosh, you got me a cat. I’m gonna name him Floof, and we’re going to live happily ever after, and oh my gosh, thank you .”

“Yeah.” Jason rubbed his neck awkwardly. “No problem.” 

“No, you have no idea-” Then Tim burst into tears, again, and grabbed the disgruntled cat to hold him close.

Oh yeah, totally worth it. Snap a few blackmail pictures, Tim’s overjoyed face and Floof’s angry one, beautiful.

Then the cat looked at him, and his glare got even more hateful.

Jason glared right back.

The cat slipped out of Tim’s arms, who latched onto Jason instead, still blubbering out thank yous, and then pointedly leapt up onto the corner and stepped right into Jason’s cooling cinnamon rolls.

Oh no.

“I’m onto you, cat.” Jason hissed. 

The cat, predictably, did not reply, instead smugly coming back to Tim for more cuddles.

Still, worth it.

Probably.

Chapter Text

“Where’s your shoe?”

“The giant mud puddle down the road demanded a sacrifice.”

“Ok, cool.” Jason mumbled distractedly, as he flipped the quesadilla.  

Gotta give it a few seconds to cool, and he still needed to cut up so cucumber to go with this all, and he still needed to-

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, turns out that that giant pit of mud in the middle of the street that never seems to go away no matter dry it gets is actually some monster’s lair. That’s what the big street party we were invited to last week was about, remember? Killer Croc was challenging it for dominance. He lost, by the way.” Tim explained, absently petting Floof and nursing a cup of coffee.

“What the f*** Timbo you can’t just say things like that. There is no way I could have missed that.” Jason said, a bit dumbfounded. It did explain the weird gurgling noises he heard at night, though, but it was said so casually ...

Tim shrugged and kissed Floof on the head. “I dunno. You were pretty out of it that night. Tuesday? The day you got jumpscared by that bat in the Cave?”

Jason turned and glared at him, dropping his voice an octave. “I thought we agreed to never talk about that again .” He growled, putting his best Bat voice on.

Tim, of course, lied to Bruce on a regular basis, and therefore was unaffected by any ‘Bat voice his siblings could use.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, point is, now that the monster-demon- whatever it is has established his- her?- dominance, it’s demanding sacrifices. Kind of annoying, but hey, not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen in Gotham.” Tim said. 

“So,” Jason said as he finished frying up the last of quesadillas and transferred them to a plate. “What kind of sacrifices does it want?”

“Eh, depends. Personal items, things of great meaning, I saw one lady give up her driver’s licence. Food, occasionally. If you brought it some of your churros I’m sure you wouldn’t have to give up anything for the next few weeks.”

Jason waggled his spatula at him. “You’re just saying that because you want the extra churros.”

“Guilty as charged.” Tim stood up, Floof meowing at the loss of pets, and started to set the table. Which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot of work, since it was only the two of them, but Jason had been raised by Alfie and by the soul of Emily Bronte he was going to make sure Tim followed proper table procedure. Legal Emancipation, Shemgal Shmancipation. 

“So, how’d that big deal you were signing at work today go?” Jason asked.

“Lucius seems to think that integration will be- urghhh!”

Jason whirled around, clutching the spatula like a bat, ready for a fight. He wasn’t disappointed. Tim was no longer on the floor, but upside down. His mouth was covered by a layer of dried mud, and he was strung up by thick mud rope that hung from the ceiling- in fact, the entire ceiling was covered in a thick layer of sickly, oozing, brown mud that bubbled and popped. It clearly wasn’t normal mud, though (if all the other clues weren’t enough), since as it dripped onto the carpet, it hissed and melted through the floor.

They’d just finished renovating. Just. Finished. 

Jason was about to murder someone. Literally.

“ You have disrespected the Mud Man. Your sacrifice was unworthy. As such, I shall take your loved one in revenge. Watch.”

One glompy, squeamy hand made out of mud formed out of the ceiling and reached towards Jason. Yeah, that was probably a problem. First, though-

“Did you just imply I was Timmy’s boyfriend?” Jason said, annoyed.

“ Yes, puny mortal, obviously.”

“Woooah, dude, not okay. I am his brother . That’s nasty, okay, that’s really disrespectful. He’s clearly my family. What is wrong with you?” Jason snapped.

“... I apologize. I was unaware of the nature of your relationship. Either way, you have to die. Goodbye.”

Jason ducked the hand and rolled over to the cabinet, quickly opening the secret drawer and grabbing a smoke bomb. He threw it quickly and then grabbed another vial from the drawer.

“ Foolish human, I do not have to see to destroy you.”

“I don’t doubt it. But I do think this might be more effective.”

And with that, Jason threw the vial of holy water up to the ceiling. It cracked on impact, and instantly, the mud mass began disappearing. The demon let out a few unintelligible howls.

“ What did you do ?”

“Holy water. Figured you were a demon, from the whole sacrifice thing. Looks like I was right. Anyway, you’re pretty low level, figured it should banish you for good. Bye!” He flipped the ceiling a two fingered salute. The mud was disappearing faster and faster with every second. Tim dropped to the ground as his own rope disappeared.

“ You… forgot something.”

Jason didn’t like the sound of that.

“ As a punishment for your crimes, the small one will be cursed with the remembrance always of his precious sacrifice that was not good enough, by- squeak!”

And with that parting noise, the mud was sucked up into some invisible vacuum and vanished. Jason let out a breath of relief, then ran to his brother, who was sitting rather confused on the floor.

“Tim? Timbo? You okay? I don’t think he finished the curse, you should be okay, Tim, please respond, are you hurt-”

“Jason!” Tim shouted, drawing his attention from where he’d been checking him out for injuries. “Jason, calm down, I’m fine. I think. Nothing hurts.”

“Oh.” Jason rocked back on his heels. “Oh. Phew. Cool.”He leveled Tim with a glare. “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

“I didn’t-”

“ Don’t.”

“Ok.” Tim said meekly. 

Jason nodded, satisfied that the small teenager wasn’t immediately going to make deals with demons again. Or become king of the chickens (that was a weird week). Or head off to the bar, and he was underage, but noooo, legality doesn’t matter to Tim - and make a team with Condiment King for Trivia Night. They got second, too, and Tim had been despondent the entire week.

Jason helped him to his feet. “So, wait, why did you happen to have holy water lying around?”

“Eh, it was a gift.”

“A gift?”

“From my alternate universe self.” Jason explained.

“Your… what?”

“He’s a priest.” Jason said, and left it at that. Father Todd had been a cool dude. Bit weird, but cool. At the very least, the holy water was surprisingly helpful, and this way, Jason didn’t have to break into any churches. He had major issues with that.

“Ok? Let’s just have dinner.”

Tim took a step towards the table then stopped. And blinked. At the noise. At the very, very loud noise.

Squeaaaakkkkkk .

Tim took another step.

Squeeeaaakkkkk .

Jason about fell over laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Tim shouted.

“Looks… like the demon… cursed you after all.” Jason gasped, near crying because he was laughing so hard. He was honest- to- Harper Lee giggling at this point. 

Hours later of experimenting, they’d figured out that every time Tim stepped, whether barefoot or in any of the shoes they’d tried, he made that embarrassing squeaky noise you make when your shoes are wet and you walk on tile. If Tim ground his foot into the floor, the squeaky noise only went on longer.

Tim was about ready to die from mortification.

He didn’t go out for patrol that night.

Tim stayed home with Jason instead of work as well.

(They had a Harry Potter marathon. Jason criticized intensely the differences between the movies and the books. ‘ He said calmly’ Jason had yelled ‘Calmly. That is not calmly.’)

But there was one thing Tim couldn’t hide from, no matter how he complained-

Family dinner.

“ You don’t always come, I don’t see why I have to come. I’ll just stay home. It’ll be fine. You can say I’m sick or something.” Tim said frantically.

“Timmers, you don’t stay home if you’re sick. You show up anyway, and then get banished to go take a nap, then end up working on cold cases the entire time.” Jason countered.

Tim had no answer for that. It was true.

“C’mon, it’ll be fine. I promise I’m strong, I’m not going to drop you. I like to think I’m pretty steady too.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Tim said. He was cuddling Floof, who didn’t seem to care about the sounds Tim made every time he walked. Floof was non- judgemental. Unless you were Jason, of course, in which case breathing too loud got a glare and maybe hissing. “How many times do you think Dick’s going to hold me up like Simba?”

“It’s not Dick you have to worry about.” Jason mumbled.

“I heard that! And I’ve given up on that, I live with you, you’d do it already.”

Jason only grinned, thinking of the ketchup he had primed to smear on Tim’s forehead at any notice. This whole ‘have to carry Tim everywhere so he doesn’t squeak’ thing was prime pranking material. Of course, Tim could just get a wheelchair, but that would cause a paparazzi storm. And it wasn’t like it was that big of a deal.

Tired of Tim’s excuses, he finally scooped him up in his arms in a bridal carry. “Here we go, Timmers!” He said cheerily over Tim’s protests. “To Infinity and Beyond!”

“This is mortifying.” Tim grumbled. “This is so, so humiliating. I can’t believe I agreed to this. Oh wait, I didn’t. ”

“You don’t want to make Alfred sad, though, do you?” Jason asked. Tim sighed and obviously agreed. “I could carry you in a different position. Fireman hold. Oooh, I know, piggyback.”

“Actually, you know what, could you? Please? “

“Fireman?”

“No, please, no. Piggy back.” Tim clarified.

“Awwww, little Timmy wants a piggy back ride? Get on Uncle Jay’s shoulders!” Jason cooed. This was too much fun.

Tim used his body like a cat tree and climbed it, clambering to get on top of Jason. Given how small he was, it wasn’t that bad of a comparison. Jason noticed Floof eyeing the production, and sent a glare back. Tim was bad enough, he was not letting a creature with claws climb him.

“I hate you, I hate this, I hate everything.” Tim grumbled once he was riding comfortably. 

“I know, buddy, five year old problems are rough.” Jason sympatized as sickly sweet as he could, patting one of Timbo’s feet that was dangling down. Tim kicked him in the face in retaliation, but it was totally worth it.

He got Tim into the car and to the Manor quickly enough (read: sang loudly along to his weird British rock band). Kid on his shoulders, he knocked apprehensively on the Manor door. This was always his least favorite part of family dinners- before hand, it was all sort of unreal, and once you were in, you were in, but at the door, you could still be turned away, be rejected. This was Tim’s least favorite part as well- neither liked to stand there, at the judgement seat, see if this was the day the family’d own up and admit they didn’t want them. Both definitely should go see a therapist for the rejection issues. But this was Gotham, who went to a therapist? 

Ahem. Enough Angst for now though, thanks.

“Master Jason, Master… Tim? Good to see you?” Alfie greeted them, clearly confused, but well practiced to work with eccentries. It was a by-product of working with a man who dressed up as a bat every night.

“I’ll explain at dinner.” Jason promised.

Once they were at dinner,  Jason and Tim went over the situation. Bruce immediately called Jason Blood (or John Constatine, some magic user, maybe Zatanna?), Damian immediately insulted Tim, and Cass immediately asked to hear what it sounded like. No surprises there. Dick didn’t show though, so there was a bright spot to all of this.

In fact…

As soon as dinner was over, (full of awkward silences, mostly because Dick wasn’t here) he pulled out his phone.

I get free hugs. You’re missing out.

FREE HUGGGSSS????? I WANT FREE HUGSSS!!! HOW???

Tim got cursed.

OMG IS HE OK?

Yesh, you duckin’ horsehole, stop using caps he’s fine. 

He just makes weird noises every time he walks, so I get to carry him around.

dID yOu mEsS with MY aUtOcOrreCt sWEars

I will murder you.

ur one to talk mr perfect punctuation

sides u text timby, need to protect the innocent

Excuse you, have you met Tim?

He is far from innocent.

Whatever, I’m going to go enjoy cuddling Tim without you.

NoOOOOOOO 

Perfect. He was going to rub this in Dick’s face the next time he saw him. He hadn’t actually spent anytime cuddling Tim, he wasn’t that kind of guy, but what Dick didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The kid in question was poking him in his side. “Jay. Jay. Jay.”

“What?”

“Can you move me? We’re going to move to the living room and watch a movie.”

Jason sighed, but he hoisted Tim up into a bridal carry. It really wasn’t that bad though. Tim was light- too light, too skinny, but they were working on that, and Jason swore by George Orwell’s foresight he was going to get some food into the tiny bird no matter what .

He didn’t mind, at all, really. It was… nice. To be depended on. To get to help out.

So yeah, he’d carry Tim places until they got this all sorted out. Besides, his little brother looked kind of cute, when they got back to their place, wrapped up in a blanket burrito, in his arms, complaining that it was far too cold. And it wasn’t all that bad if he snuggled up to him on the couch, both of them drowsy, Jason staying home from patrol for once. And it wasn’t the worst thing in the world if Tim laid on his lap, and Jason got to card his fingers sleepily through Timbo’s hair, feeling, for the first time in a while, at peace.

Also it was perfect for playing jokes.

With Tim unable to move due to his swaddling wraps, Jason reached behind the couch, and grabbed the ketchup bottle he’d been keeping there. He squirted a little on Tim’s forehead, swiped it across, and held him up only to near drop him because he was laughing so hard.

Yep.

Perfect.

Chapter Text

“Is that blood?”

“No?”

“That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.”

“I’d like to see you figure out the difference between blood and marinara sauce.” Tim stared at him for a second, bemused. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“I...suppose so but that isn’t the point . It’s three in the morning Jay, what the heck, do you need help? Bandages? Is there anything hurting? And why are you making spaghetti?”

Jason shrugged. “I was hungry?”

“Bandages, Jason. Are you in need of bandages.”

He peered down at the gash. The laceration stretched across the sliver of skin where his wrist was exposed in his uniform. Fortunately, it wasn’t the side of the wrist with fragile veins- but the cut was still deep and bleeding heavily. “Eh, if you’re offering.”

Tim’s face flashed through all five stages of grief before he turned on his heel without another word and went to grab something from the bathroom.

Jason didn’t mean to barge in, really. He just wanted to check up on Tim, see how he was doing. Ya know, at three in the morning. Obviously. He hadn’t really expected Tim to be up, which led to the thought of what he did he expect, which led to the thought of him standing over Tim’s bed and looming creepily. Yeesh, was Bruce rubbing off on him?

He stirred the spaghetti then winced when he remembered his wrist was injured.

“‘Kay, you doorknob, give me your wrist.”

“Doorknob? Really? OOooooh wow Timmy you’re bringing out the big boy names.What are you going to call me next? A hinge?”

Tim looked at him, dead in the eyes, and utterly cussed him out. Jason was impressed- if a little concerned at Tim’s lack of usual self restraint.

“What are you doing up,  anyway, Timbolini? Didn’t Bruce bench or something?”

Tim looked up, suddenly sharp eyed. “Who told you that?”

“Dickie. Why’d you get benched? You don’t even work for the Old Man anymore. And you’re not exactly like Goldie, coming at his beck and call.”

Tim snorted. “That’s kind of funny, coming from you, considering you spent your days as Robin with Dick in his first days out as Nightwing. I’ve heard the stories. But anyway, it’s cause, apparently, I’m not-” he held up a hand to make finger quotes- “getting enough sleep. It’s all a lie though.”

“Says the guy who’s still up at three in the morning while benched.” Jason joked, inspecting the bandage Tim had just finished.

“Yeah I just wish...” Tim said quietly, a sharp change from his normal sleep deprived sass. Jason looked up and caught Tim’s wrist lightly.

“Everything ok?”

“I- I don’t know. Sorry. Never mind. Forget I said anything. Let it go poof. Disappear from your mind forever. These are not the droids you are looking for and all that jazz.”

Jason emphatically did not believe that. “Spit it out Timbo, we both know I’ll stay here until I get an answer. I was stubborn enough not to stay dead, I’m stubborn enough to stick around. C’mon, we’re both up, I’m in one of my rare good moods, sit down and eat some of my spaghetti, then talk.”

“Rare? Talk about non-existent.” Tim slumped down at the table and Jason dished him some pasta. Tim, as usual, devoured it. After the first time, with the waffles, Jason had come over a few more times with food. His brother always complained- or begged for it, sometimes- but he ate every bit every time. Concerning, yes, but not the current problem. 

After chowing it down, he pushed his plate back for Jason to take, which he did, promptly, and folded over the table. Head in folded arms, he looked a bit like either a first grader whose class got in trouble, or that one college kid in the back who never seemed to be awake for any of the clases.

“I just.. I can’t sleep- I’ve tried everything. And I’m so tired . Gosh, I wish I could just pass out right now. You think I could just take some of the tranqs we use on Croc? Oh gosh, please.”

“What- no Tim, you could die, you could overdose on those things. Is it really that bad? When was the last time you slept?”

Tim flumped (flumped? Was that a word? It was now, because that was the only real way to describe what Tim was doing) onto the couch, sighing loudly. “Maybe, er, I dunno, four days ago? I started hallucinating after about three. There’s a weird shadow monster behind you, by the way.”

Jason twisted around quickly, but nothing was there. What- oh, a hallucination. “Tim, that’s really bad. Have you talked to someone about this?”

“No?” Tim sat up, only to collapse back onto the couch. “Who would I talk to about a sleeping problem? Why do you think Bruce benched me? I tried to get help after day three, but, well. Nah. He’s not very supportive at the best of times. I don’t think he understood it was less a choice to stay up and more an inability to sleep.”

“Insomnia, then.” Jason realized. Four whole nights....

“Yerp.” Tim confirmed.

Now that Jason took another look, Tim looked exhausted. His usual eye bags had their own bag, he looked as pale as a corpse, and his eyes were watering- a sure fire symptom of being open too long. How’d he miss this? Now that he was clued in, too, he could smell the usual coffee scent that always pervaded Tim’s apartment, but sharper.

“Do you think it was triggered by something or was it random?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve been having nightmares, but I always have nightmares, everyone in this messed up family does, so that’s nothing new. I just… can’t. I don’t know. I don’t know. ”

Tim’s face scrunched up tight, and he looked like he was about to start crying. Nope. Jason could handle his own literal death . Not crying brothers. Nope. Hold up. Back out. Just- no.

“Hey.” He said, his hands hovering uselessly over Tim’s shoulders. He got it now. Bruce’s whole emotional constipation thing. “Uh- It’s ok. Everything’s alright. You’ll get some sleep soon.”

“But when ? How? ” Tim said, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, snickerdoodles, man, I’m overreacting. Shoot, I’m sorry. Turns out no sleep amplifies and exaggerates all the nasty feeling stuff. Sorry- I just. I tried everything. Short of tranqs or someone knocking me unconscious, I don't know what will work.”

Jason pondered this for a second. He hadn’t meant to get dragged into this mess, but he was here now. Tim seemed pretty desperate.

“What if I-” He breaks off, a bit embarrassed. Maybe Tim wouldn't want that. It could be a bit weird.

“What if you what .” Tim gets right up in his face, eyes tired and dead and desperate. “ TELL ME.”

“What if I, um, read to you? Like, Lord of the Rings? You know, the part where they take forever to get to Mordor and it's really slow and a bit boring. It might put you to sleep.”

Tim stayed where he was, uncomfortably close to Jason’s face, searching it for who knows what. Sleep-deprived Tim was unpredictable, in all the worst ways. Was that coffee? Was it an energy drink? Or was it some flippin’ DIRT IN A MUG WHAT THE HECK TIM.

“That.” He breathed out, which was not a fun experience for Jason. “That… might actually work. Oh my word that might actually work.”

Timberly sat back on the couch, looking absolutely gobsmacked. “Ooookay. Let’s get you to your bed.”

Tim stumbled his way to his room, giggling a little, mumbling something about penguins, and ok, why in the world did he think it was a good idea to allow the ‘placement to bandage his wrist. Sleep deprived Tim was as likely to pour glitter on it or simply start crying than actually do anything.

“Right, Babybird, do you want me to tuck you in?”

Tim glared at him as he snuggled in under the covers. “Jason. I am seventeen. No. I haven’t had someone tuck me in since I was seven and my last full time nanny quit.”

“A seventeen year old who can’t fall asleep and can barely take care of himself. Honestly, I’m constantly surprised you got your emancipation approved at all. If the judge could see you  now, they’d probably take it back.”

“You’re mean. Start reading.”

“Wow. Almost as good of an insult as ‘doorknob’.” He ignored Tim’s sputtering and opened the book. 

“‘Hrum, Hoom,’ murmured the voice, a deep voice like a very deep woodwind instrument. ‘Very odd indeed! ” Jason began.

“You can’t just start from the middle! And the second book, no less.” Tim exclaimed, outraged.

“Yes I can, and I will. I know we’ve both read this way too many times. Now shush, this is one of my favorite parts. ‘Do not be hasty, that is my motto.” Jason let his voice go into a deep baritone, lulling Tim into a light doze. And whaddya know, ten minutes later, he’d fallen asleep. Thank goodness. The poor kid really needed it. As Jason stared, Tim curled up onto his side, somehow still looking exhausted even in his sleep. Small, tiny even, Tim didn't appear to be much more than a child- which was he really was.

Seventeen.

Jason's seventeenth birthday had been pure and utter torture. He was still with the league in those days, at Talia's beck and call. He didn't remember it fondly, didn't remember celebrating it all. 

Tim shouldn't have to go through that as well.

He placed the book on the nightstand, flicked off the lights, and went to the living room to lounge on Tim’s stupidly comfortable couch. Ah, the perks of being rich. Nice couches. He might as well fall asleep here, Tim wouldn’t mind…

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you go-

Aksjdlfjldkfh- what the heck. He’d forgotten that Babs had changed his ringtone to that when he’d asked her for some info and hadn’t told her what for. This had been the only response.

“Jason! Little Wing! Can I ask a favor?” Dick’s voice came through the speaker, oblivious to the annoyance that always arose in Jason at his bright tones. 

“Dick. Geez. How did you know I wasn’t asleep.”

His older brother’s The elder man’s sudden silence was all Jason needed for an answer. “I wasn’t, if you were wondering. Think, please, next time, before you call me at three thirty in the morning.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Dick said, sheepish. “Anyway, can I ask you a favor?”

“Depends.” Jason drawled, stretching out on the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table. “What’s the favor? If it’s a body, go get some ice, put it in your trunk, don’t tell Bruce,  I’ll be there in ten.”

“What- no. Jason. Not funny. Actually though, it is about a body. A some- body .”

Jason used his silence to better get his disappointment at Dick’s humor across.

Dick coughed awkwardly. “Anyway, you know how Tim is benched? Could you swing by his place, check if he’s asleep?”

Well now, wasn’t this a coinky-dink. “And if he isn’t asleep?”

There was a pause. Clearly, Dickie-bird had not thought that far ahead. “Uh. Call me, I guess? Yeah, call me.”

“And what do I get out of this?”

“I’ll owe you one, I guess. A small favor, though, not one of your requests for the world’s largest noodle. It took me weeks to get that Jay. Weeks .” Dick huffed.

“Deal. He’s asleep, just went to bed twenty minutes ago.”

“Great, thanks- wait. Oh, you. You absolute and utter doorknob. I can’t believe you. You’re there right now, aren’t you? Been there this entire call?”

“Doorknob? Really?” Jason asked, disappointed in his family’s horrible insults.

“Shut up, Damian’s with me. You’re the worst, I hope you know that.”

“And yet, despite that, I would like 47 four leaf clovers, please. Yep, that’s all for today’s order, and no, I do not want a rewards card. Make sure they’re all as fresh as possible though. I want them picked the day of.”

“You know, I’m rethinking the whole body offer, I might need help after all, except, wait, you’re going to be the body . I’m going to flipping murder you, you’ll never the light of-”

Jason hung up.

Heh.

Trolling Dickie always made him smile.

And it was good to know somebody else was checking up on Tim. Not that Jason cared, of course. No. He was as worried as one would be about anyone who lived like this, it had nothing to do with Tim. 

But if Dick cared, it begged the question-How did Bruce let him go home, alone, like this? The old man couldn’t really that stupid, considering his own chronic insomnia. It was clear Tim couldn’t seem to feed himself properly, sleep well on his own- or, he could, but he didn’t seem to find taking care of himself very important, and the other people in Tim’s life weren’t willing to step up and make sure Tim was okay. Which meant that-

Never mind.

Tim would probably hate the idea of a roommate.

Chapter Text

“I’m just doing what the fortune cookie said. Who am I to stand in the way of fate?”

“Tim. It literally said ‘You are going to have some new clothes’. That’s no excuse- what are you- no- stop-”

“Come on. Just once. Pleeease?”

Roy stumbled through the doorway, completely and totally ready to collapse on the coach. Or design a new explosive. Actually, he’s pretty sure he had some C-4 in the back. Could use that somewhere, call it therapy, he could probably get Dinah to okay it.

“I- Timbo, I’m literally a foot taller than you, you’re like pocket- sized, there’s absolutely no way it’ll fit you. I’m not letting you. No- that’s mine! Hey! Get away! That’s my precioussssssss.”

“What’s he got in his handses? Gollum thinks he is a little thief.”

“I am not a thief, you’re the thief, it’s mine- stop- quit it!”

He edged through the door, shutting near silently, set on finding out who was talking. It sounded like Jason. But he hadn’t heard Jason sound like that in weeks, months, heck, maybe years . Jason didn’t like people touching his stuff, let alone quote things to just anyone. It had taken months of knowing him before Jason tossed out his first Pride and Prejudice reference (though once he started, there was no stopping. No stopping ) Maybe Kori was over? But he thought Kori was on vacation with her sister or something. Actually no, her sister was evil. Or morally gray? Did she even have a sister? Did Roy have a sister? Wait.

He didn’t have a sister.

At least, he’s pretty sure. Not biologically.

He crept into the kitchen, intent on the half open door to the living room. Squabbling in his ear, sneaking as light on his feet as he could, Roy tip toed towards the open door-

“EEP!”

“Daddy? What are you doing?”

Where the heck had Lian come from? He swore that Lian was a freakin’ ninja. Maybe angry Robin was teaching her assassin-y stuff on the side. The kid was a psychopath, certainly plausible. But that would mean someone had the bright idea to introduce the child to someone younger than him, a.k.a willingly endorse murder. Except Dick was blind when it came to the kid, maybe it was Dick?

“Shhhhh I’m eavesdropping in peace. Please don’t disturb me.”

“I’m sorry.” Lian said, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t- shush. We’re doing spy things right now. Quiet.”

“Spies!!!” Lian squealed. “I love playing spies!! What are we spying, Daddy?”

“Uh…. We’re not spying. At all. Sorry, pumpkin.” Roy spluttered. Hopefully Jason hadn’t heard them-

“Stop being a creep Harper! You totally were!” Jason yelled, clearly having overheard them. Oh well. 

“Yeah Daddy.” Lian said, eyes wide and serious. “Stop being a creep.”

“Oh for the love of-” Roy sighed.”Jason, you’re being a bad influence on my daughter!”

“You’re the bad influence!”

Roy rolled his eyes and scooped Lian up, much to her delight. She giggled as Roy placed her on top of his shoulders, clutching at his hair. “Come on, pumpkin, let’s get away from Uncle Jay.”

“But I like Uncle Jay!” Lian whined.

“But do you like him more than playing at Emily’s house? Because I talked to Emily’s parents, and they said you’re good to come over this afternoon.” Roy said.

Lian squealed and jumped down from Roy’s back, running all the way to her room. “Thank you! Thank you! I’m gonna bring Froggy!”

“Traitor!” Jason called after her.

“No, I think she’s got her priorities pretty straight.” Roy commented, peeking his head through the door. “Hey, wasn’t somebody else here? I could’ve sworn I heard someone else.”

Jason started nodding, looking around the room, then swore viciously. “That little mother fu- I will kill you, Replacement. I will murder you, and put your head on a spike, and stray all your entrails out on the lawn, until you are crushed and alone.”

“Wait. Isn’t that a reference to Mean Girls?”

Jason looked at Roy. Roy stared back at Jason. Jason raised an eyebrow. Roy stepped back. Jason got up. Roy backed away a few more steps, few more, few more- okay, a lot more, okay, yeah, he was all out running, but he’d forgotten the cardinal rule. Never mention musicals to Jason. Because if you do, the fate you bring upon yourself is yours and yours alone to bear, a fate worse than death-

Roy careened through the hallways, sidestepping Lian-”Daddy? Daddy- Uncle Jay? Are you okay?”- slamming open the balcony door- “I’m okay!”- crawling onto the bricks of the exterior, scrambling up the rocks, scratching open his hands, not even caring. He just had to get to the roof, and he’d be free. One more reach, grasping the ledge, pulling himself up-

“Oh Roooyyyy~” Jason called from below. “You can run, but you can’t hide .”

“No!” Roy shouted back from his perch on top of the roof. “I refuse! You’ve made me go to Mean Girls seven times! Seven times! I’m not seeing it again! And I’m not letting you sing ‘Watch the World Burn’ or whatever that song is again. Forget it. It’s enough. I’m not coming down.”

“If you say so.” Jason said, grinning. Oh no. Roy knew that grin. It was the grin that said ‘Hey, so, I think we should blow things up just to annoy Batman’’. Granted, it was Roy’s favorite grin usually. “But Lian needs to head to Emily’s.”

Shoooooooot. He was right. 

“Look, help me find ‘placement, and I’ll tone it down.” Jason called.

“Thank the heavens above-” Jason glared at him. “I mean, sure thing, dude. But who’s that?” He vaulted off the roof and landed in a crouch onto the balcony, going back inside to pick up Lian.

“Replacement? Timmers? Timbo? Timothy Drake? Ya know, Red Robin?” Jason said, following him in.

“Red Robin, Red Robin- Lian, put your shoes on!, Red, Red, doesn’t ring a bell- Wait. Didn’t you used to be Red Robin? Oh my gosh, this is the dude who took your place and stuff! Why are you hanging out with him? I thought you hated him and stuff!” Roy exclaimed.

Jason rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah… about that… turns out he kinda didn’t. And I don’t. It’s a bit complicated, I’ll tell you after we drop Lian off.”

Tim. Tim Drake. The third Robin. Yeah, he remembered him now. Short kid, smart kid, bit of an introvert, seemed okay. Jason hated his guts. At least, he thought? Somedays, sorting out Jason’s family relationships was more work than ending poverty. He had a hard enough of a time figuring out where Jason was with Dick on a day-to-day basis.

“Kay, Li, got Froggy?”

“Yep!”

“And you remember my number?”

“Yep!”

And you-”

“Come on , Harper, let’s go.” Jason groaned. 

“Alright, Lian, see you later, be safe, don’t forget to thank them, I love you-!” He sighed, rubbing his face. Being a parent was so hard. Breathing out another exasperated huff, he turned to the other child, who was considerably harder to parent. Mostly because Jason actually had a parent, and Roy had not signed up for this when they became friends. It wasn’t in the contract, nevermind there had been no contract. “Okay, so what’s up with this whole Tim situation?”

“He stole my bloody jacket! My favorite leather one! Cited some stupid fortune cookie baloney. It’s my jacket, he knows better.” Jason seethed.

“‘Bloody’?” Roy raised an eyebrow. “ Baloney?”

Jason glared back. “Alfred.”

Ah.

“But wait. Okay. So, like, you’re not mad at him and stuff anymore? ‘Cause honestly dude I thought you and him were mortal enemies or something like that. He was like a trigger or something. I mean, glad that you’re not attacking him on sight, but what changed?”

Jason looked away, glancing out the window. “I don’t know. I guess.... I started talking to him a bit more, I’d gotten over the Pit thing a while ago, and he seemed like a pretty cool dude. And we started hanging out a few times, and then I went over to his place and. Well.”

Oh no. He knew how this ended. Jason had some crazy, wild romance going on, or some other weird incest going on, he knew it. He didn’t sign up for this. It’s okay, everything’s cool, there’s plans for a bike he wants to build at home, no one will care if he isolates himself and Lian for the next few weeks to scrub his brain. It’ll be fine.

“I don’t know. I got worried?”

Roy started laughing. Full on guffaws here, like seal barks, not only from relief there was no nasty things going on but cause that was hilarious. Jason Todd, everyone. Worrying.

“Hey! What’s that for?”

“You? Jason. You never get worried, especially about one of the bats. What’s really going on?”

“I do too!” Jason protested. “I get worried about you, I get worried about Kori, I get worried about how you’re dealing with stress from Lian, and I get worried about how you’re doing with being sober and all, and I get worried about how you’re holding up. I care.”

“I- wow. Uh. Thanks man. I. Yeah. Dang.” Roy surreptitiously wiped a tear away. “Um. Me too, totally, man. But like, Tim?”

Jason grimaced. “Yeah, I know. I haven’t been exactly… vocal about his well being in the past. I just. It was really bad. And, I don’t know, I got kind of concerned. Kid’s been through a lot, I didn’t really want to be another stress as well? So I’ve been hanging around, helping out if I can.”

“That bad, really?”

“Yeah. He’s kind of alone, and you know how the job gets to you when you’re doing it alone. And he’s got people who should be looking out for him, they all just seem to be really busy and stuff and it’s just bad.” Jason paused. “Did you know he’s a CEO?”

Roy almost crashed the car “I- WHAT?”

“Yeah, apparently he’s got a personal assistant and everything. Tam. She’s like a literal queen, I love her. Anyway though, he’s working from seven to ten every day, then heading out to patrol, then crashing for four hours, if he’s looking, then doing it again. It’s not very healthy. I don’t even think he understands that it isn’t.” Jason toyed with his jacket zipper, fidgeting. Roy waited for him to get the next bit out. “Sometimes, he reminds me of myself, ya know? Back when I’d just gotten out and was on my own. Wish there’d been someone for me who wasn’t literally trying to brainwash me into a killing machine. I mean, I found you guys, but, yeah. You get it.”

Roy did get it. He wished there’d been some one when he was lying on the floor of some graffitted up broken down house, high out of his mind, trapped in a cycle of wishing his trash mentor would care and that he would pay. He more than got it.

“Sooooooo…… he stole your jacket, or what?”

Jason shook himself from his contemplation. “I can’t believe I forgot! I’m going to murder him, that little thief.”

The corners of Roy’s mouth upticked. Huh. Jason had made a new friend. He wasn’t aware that was something Jason could do. What with his extreme introvertedness and a literal quota of how many close friends he could have at a time.

“Do you… think it’s a good idea for you two to be together. I mean, Jay, you tried to kill him. Don’t mean to be all rules and stuff, but do you think that’s healthy for the both of you?”

Jason was nodding before he even finished his sentence.“That’s what I thought, at first. But I don’t think anyone else is coming. I guess, if I asked, Dick would try, but it’s not really what Tim needs. Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

What the heck. Why not.

“Yes. You don’t have enough friends as is.”

“Thanks I- hey!”

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Tim.”

“I thought it’d look good!”

“Tim.”

“So maybe it’s a little big.”

“Tim.”

He shook the oversize sleeves of the jacket another time. “Yeah, this was probably a bad idea.”

On the contrary, Jason thought it was a great idea. Mostly because Timmers looks so adorable . Like, that one period of time when Youtube had nothing but cat videos adorable. Ya know, the little mrow sound cats make when they’re surprised? That level of cute.

“Why’d you want it, anyway? Tim, you’re not exactly the epitome of the bad boy look. Maybe hot nerd, if you try. More tired nerd though most days.” Jason asked, picking up a random book. ‘Climbing things for Fun and Profit’. The things Tim read for fun were beyond him. In fact, he was pretty sure Roy owned the same book and preached its principles religiously.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I suppose I was wondering why you’re so obsessed with this eather jacket.”

Jason looked up, scandalized, blushing. “I’m not obsessed!”

Tim merely smirked back at him. He was sitting on the one empty spot in his apartment floor, huddled up in Jason’s leather jacket. The general cleanliness of the apartment hadn’t changed since Jason had been there last, but it looked as though Tim had made some effort with the dishes. Or maybe he had eaten all takeout this week. Or maybe he hadn’t eaten at all.

The kid was going to be the death of him.

“You sleep with it! You live in it! I’ve never seen you not wearing a leather jacket. You even wear it as a uniform.” Tim argued.

“Okay. So maybe it's a bit of a safety blanket. A man can wear what he wants to wear though, Timmers, so leave me and my comfort items alone, ‘kay?”

Tim grinned, tossing the jacket back at him. “Sure thing. Here’s your blankie.”

That’s when Jason’s eyes widened. Oh no. No. That would be chaos. He can’t believe he had that thought. It would literally be suicide. Self-sabotage. But they would get along so well. The two of them were like the same person. Two geniuses, two of Jason’s friends…

“Hey Tim.” Jason said, hopping on top of the kitchen counter. “Do you still talk to the Titans?”

Tim looked up, confused. “Sometimes? Well, Kon and Bart died, and then Cassie got kind of weird on me, and Anita’s like half retired, and Greta’s out of the game, and everyone else either died for good or is gone or stuff. But I guess Kon and Bart came back. Things are a bit awkward. And Cassie’s doing her own thing now. Haven’t talked to them much these past few months.”

And for Tim, ‘Haven’t talked too much’ meant a text when he was having a panic attack at two a.m and sent a message completely out of context as a cry for help that was disguised as a hello for no reason.

“Wasn’t Kon like your best friend or something?” Jason paused, trying to remember. “Or was he your boyfriend?”

“Best friend? Yes. Boyfriend? Nothing ever happened in that area. Why, were you talking to him?”

“No.” Jason said, inwardly plotting. Tim had his friend slots all empty. It’d be good for him….. Just not good for Jason.

“Say, I should introduce you to Roy.”

BONUS:

“Hey Jay, we built this new and improved- stop screaming, it’s just me and Tim- we built this new and improved flamethrower.”

“I’M IN THE SHOWER!”

Chapter Text

"I finally fixed my sleep schedule! I got up before noon today!” Jason swung up, half-heartedly punching an imagined enemy, before turning to see Tim. Who had just kicked open his door. Geez. Rude. Can't a guy have a nap? Is that so much to ask? He stays up till three in the morning working through his anger issues, the universe can allow him this much.

“Oh really?” Jason mumbled, trying to find the spoon he’d just dropped. The carton of ice cream wasn’t going to eat itself. “What time did you get up?”

Tim paused. “11: 59.”

Jason barked out a laugh, clutching the carton a little closer. “I don’t think that counts, baby bird.”

“Eh, close enough.” Tim perched on top of the couch, staring at Jason while Jason stared at his tub of triple chocolate ice cream. It was a bit unnerving, honestly, but he supposed Timmers had to get those stalker vibes out somehow. “Can I have some?”

“No.”

Tim stared back at him, eyes wide like a literal kawaii character, like Dick when you refused his cuddles, like the way Bat-cow looked at Damian, which was very very weird to witness in person. “Please?”

“Fine.” Jason relented. “Get your own spoon.”

Vaulting off the couch, Tim disappeared into the kitchen, evidently digging through his cutlery judging from the clinking sounds coming from that direction. Not that he would find the spoons there, because that- “Ow, ow, my foot! Ouch! Frying pans shouldn’t be that heavy!”- ope, yep, there it was. That was the pots and pans cupboard. A few months ago, and Jason would have been questioning why Tim looked there first, but now he knew Tim kept his silverware scattered around his pots and pans. Why? It was Tim. The kid was half feral. Next question.

He returned his attention to shoving cold sugar in his mouth in an attempt to drown out his sorrows. Hey. It’s a coping mechanism, okay? Better than heading out to a bar and getting absolutely plastered. 

A spoon interrupted his contemplation of the slowly melting puddle of dark, chocolatey brown.

“So,” Tim started, digging a chunk out. “Triple Chocolate? Really? How more cliche can you get?”

Jason glared at him. “You’re the one eating it.”

Tim shrugged and shoved the spoonful in his mouth, turning his attention to the sitcom casually playing in the background, filling the room with the low buzz of noise. It covered up some of his thoughts (but not all). His (replacement, brother, friend?) looked bone- tired, and Jason found himself tugging the boy down onto the couch to lean against him before he even realized what he was doing.

“Thanks.” Tim said, nuzzling into his side, eyelids slowly drooping. Gosh, the kid was cute.

Jason sighed, slowly digging his way through the rest of the carton. Somewhere, a fan whirred, sending a draft through the still, hot, heavy air that weighed down on the two of them. On his side, Tim sat resting on his shoulder, warm, cozy, not quite awake but not quite asleep. A lazy summer night. Outside, through the Gotham- polluted sky, one or two twinkles of stars could be glimpsed, a backdrop for the giant symbol that appeared nightly. And the sitcom played on. Laugh tracks quiet but a low hum, light from the tv dim but lighting the two.

It was peaceful.

It was perfect.

The world seemed-

“hahahAHAHAHA-”

Jason flinched from the sudden loud laughter from the tv. The spoon fell out of his hand. The fan whirred a little faster. The laughter seemed more sinister now, tinged with… green.

Jason turned his head, and choked on his breath as everything was suddenly, very, very green . 

Toxic green.

Pit green.

Why today? Why any day, really? Wasn’t the Pit supposed to fix things ? This wasn’t fixing things. This was the exact opposite of fixing things. In fact, somedays, Jason wished he was dead instead.

That- no. Not going down that hole.

He was faintly aware of his breath picking up speed, of Tim’s head lifting off his shoulder, of the laugh tracks of the sitcom getting louder and louder. It was so green . Overwhelming, crashing down on and locking up tight everything but rage.

What was there to be angry about, though, but old wounds?

So the Pit directed the anger inwards, and he suddenly loathed the way he acted, how pathetic he was for eating ice cream all alone, how disgusting he was as a human being- the thoughts were disjointed. He couldn’t catch another in the swirling storm of self- hate. Robin. Batman. Guns. Green. Sitcoms. Crowbars. Green. Family. Green. So much green .

“Hey. Hey, Jason. Jay. C’mon. Another breath.”

Another breath ? Where would this supposed breath come from, hm? He gasped, trying to pull in a modicum of oxygen. As predicted, nothing came in. 

A forehead pressed against his own, someone’s eyes looking straight into his own. “Jason. Breath. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

The person’s eyes- they weren’t green. Jason focused on them, the not-green, the warm blues of the eyes. The color of sky before a sunset, the feeling of cool water after a heat sucking day.

“That’s it. Deep breaths. Tell me five things you can see?”

“Your eyes… your nose?” Jason tried, still trying to gulp down another iota of air.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” The person- Tim, that was Tim, how had he not recognized Tim?- leaned away, but still hung awkwardly over him. 

“Uh… tv, curtains,... spoon.”

“Do you want to do four things you can hear?” Tim asked gently.

“No- I’m. I’m good. I-” Jason took a deep breath, rubbing his face. “Turn off the tv. Please.”

Tim scrambled over to the remote, and Jason instantly relaxed as the sound of fake laughter was cut off. He could still feel the panic, in the back of his mind. Waiting for him. But the green receded, until it only tinged the edges of his vision.

“Jay? You with me?”

“Sort of.” Jason rubbed at his face, trying to relax all the muscles tightened up there. “Give me- give me a minute.”

He focused on his breath coming in and out, on the feel of Tim’s hand as he rubbed back and forth on his arm. Tried to bring back the peace of a few moments before. The green sparked. Fought back. But Jason pushed it down.

It never really went away- but he could lock it back up in its box.

“Okay. Okay. I’m fine now.”

Tim didn’t stop running his hand back and forth on his arm, but he pressed a little closer, worried. It should have been uncomfortable, in the summer heat. Tim should’ve made him feel claustrophobic and scared. But strangely, he just felt warm and safe…. As cringy as that sounded.

“What triggered you?” Tim finally asked, cautiously.

Jason pointed towards the tv. “Laughter.”

“Oh.”

They sat there for a few stolen seconds, as the ice cream melted faster and faster. He should really throw it away. Pick the spoon up. Put it in the sink before it got stuck to the carpet. 

Jason cleared his throat, focusing anywhere but on Tim. “Sometimes… there are bad days. And then even the little things can… bother me. That’s, um, that’s why I texted you. To come over. Thought something might happen. It’ll probably happen again today too.”

He stood with alacrity, grabbing the carton and the spoon, snatching the one in Tim’s hand as well, pointedly not making eye contact.

“Jason…”

The spoons clattered in the sink, and he threw the carton into the trash. Then he slumped against the counter, head in his hands, about ready to die from embarrassment.

“Jason.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m a mess.” 

“Jason!”

Two arms circled around his waist, grounding him, hugging him tightly. Tim pressed against him tightly- his nose poked into his back because Tim defined short, but the weird sort of comfort was appreciated. There was a sigh, against his back, and then his hands were being pushed away from his face, and held tight. A solid grip. Fingers interlacing, stroking over his callouses from holding guns a little too tight on the bad nights (fingers shaking, shadows haunting him from every corner, "Forehand or backhand?"). The simple sweep of thumb over skin tingled, soft and smooth. Tim's hand squeezed his once before dropping.

“It’s a problem.”

Jason stiffened. “Baby bird, I dunno if that’s supposed to be comforting, but if it is, you’re kind of failing.”

“I- Well- I’m not really the greatest at this sort of thing, uh…” Tim paused and Jason could’ve sworn he heard him mumble ‘ what would Dick say ’ . “What I mean is that having triggers and stuff is a problem, right? But it’s a problem, and that means it can be solved . Dealt with. And honestly, we all have pretty bad PTSD. I get it. You have bad days, I have bad days. It’s normal enough.”

“Not sure normal is the best choice of words.” Jason teased lightly, voice cracking half way through.

“You know what I mean.” Tim grumbled. “But hey, I’m happy to be here, kay? I care.”

Jason didn’t say anything, but his silence told volumes more than he could’ve.

“Jason! Jason, seriously? Of course I care. Geez you are the worst, especially at emotions. Honestly, all of us are, it's like literally in the Bats contract, sign here, make sure you meet the requirements for appropriate emotional suppression. No affectionate gestures or emotional conversations allowed. Uh… I mean, I care. I care if you’re mentally okay, if you’re safe, if you’re happy. We’re brothers. That's what being brothers means.” Tim said, voice breaking on the last bit.

Jason turned around then, and hugged Tim back as tight as he could. Trying to shove everything he felt into the action. The kid- no, his little brother let out a grunt as all the air was suddenly squeezed out of his windpipe, but he reciprocated and hugged him back just as strong.

“Jace--- jay-ufgh- let go, geez, I can’t…. Breath-!”

Sheepishly, Jason released him and stood back, running his hand through his hair, trying to disguise how misty his eyes had gotten. “Sorry. I- thanks. Gotta admit though, it’s a new experience to be hugged by someone like a foot shorter than me.” He eyed the small thing in question. “You could stand to get a few more inches.”

Tim scowled- which was not adorable at all, no, of course not- and smacked him. “I am a perfectly acceptable height, thank you very much.”

He tugged Jason back to the couch and pushed him back onto it, hopping down right next to him.

“Jason… I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I. Um. I’m not really doing the best right now?” Tim said, looking down at his hands, which were absently fiddling with some new device prototype that he and Roy were building together.

Talk about an understatement.

“And, uh. Erm. Not sure if it was an unconscious decision, but having you around has been really… really great. And I want to… to help back? If you’ll let me, that is. I know you’ve got Roy and Kori and stuff but. It looks like you could use somebody in Gotham.” Tim said, slowly. “And I was thinking… since we stay at each other’s places so often, and we’re already kind of doing it, and it would be good for you to have another person to have around for”-he waved a hand around at Jason’s… everything- “that, I thought you might want to. Um. Maybe share an apartment?”

“...”

“But if you don’t want to that’s fine! It’s just an idea, I just thought-”

“Tim.” Jason interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Tim. Timmers. Timberly. Timbo. Baby bird.” He looked directly into Tim’s eyes. “I have been trying to ask you the same thing for the past three months.”

“...What?” Tim squeaked. Well, not squeaked because Tim was a perfectly well functioning adult and also a Bat and therefore never surprised by anything. But. The Bat version of squeaking.

“Honestly, whoever thought it was a good idea to let you live alone? You clearly need some sort of supervision. And you’re terrible at taking care of yourself. Like, Dick is better than you, and he eats cereal all day. And you’re so unbearably lonely that it’s amazing that none of the Rogues have taken you as their apprentice.” Jason ranted.

He glanced over at Tim, who was both blushing and scowling.

“What? Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well- no- I mean- the Titans tell me that all the time- and the Riddler keeps offering me a spot to work with him… that’s not the point! So…. um. Is that a yes?” Tim asked, fidgeting.

“Of course it’s a yes, you idiot. And your apartment, not mine.”

They both looked around Jason’s apartment, where there were suspicious stains on the ceiling, a bare concrete floor, and a hole in the wall next to the door that functioned as a really handy delivery hole. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”

Jason hesitated, now that the big question was out of the way. “Thank you. For, um… caring.”

Tim smiled back, knocking him with his shoulder. “‘Course.”

The older grabbed Tim, reeling him into another tight hug- a surprise to both of them, considering how rarely Jason initiated hugs with any of the Bats. But Jason could already tell it would become a regular occurrence with Tim. “You do know that I do too? Care about you?”

“Um… yeah. It’s… nice to hear that though.” Tim whispered. “It’s been a while since anyone’s said that to me.”

“Me too.” Jason admitted.

The summer air felt a little less oppressive now. The low simmering heat had disappeared as the sun fell, and Jason found himself relaxing into the warmth of the hug. This was… nice. He could get used to this. Tim seemed so small in his arms, so tired all the time. And Jason hadn't felt like a good brother just about ever, but right now? He was pretty sure he was doing something right. Of course, leave it up to Tim though to be the first, the idiot. Always offering for someone else and never himself. But it would be nice to have someone around on the nights he woke up with a scream lodged on his throat, or the days when he regretted ever coming back to life. And... it would be nice to know someone cared .

“So,” he said. “Now that you’re my roommate, does that mean I can get you to sleep eight hours a night?”

Tim pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “You can try.”

Jason smirked. “Is that a challenge? If so, I accept.”

“Wait Jason that’s really not necessary-”