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“‘Night, George,” Dick calls to the man behind the counter.“Try not to get shot, copper.”
“Just for you.”
Grinning, he blows on his steaming coffee before snapping the lid back into place, then shoulders his way through the door of the convenience store. It’s freezing outside, a thin layer of ice covering the sidewalk.He zips up his GCPD-issued uniform jacket, wishing he could wear the nice wool peacoat Alfred got him for Christmas. It hasn’t even been worn yet. The only time he leaves the house lately is for work or early morning trips to the grocery store with Tim, and even Dick knows that coat is too fancy to wear with sweatpants.

Perhaps it’s time to call one of his friends and go out soon. He has friends, he’s sure of it, even if he hardly sees them anymore. It’s just hard to find time for them when he has a full-time job and a kid at home. And sure, Tim’s almost a teenager and can, for the most part, take care of himself, but Dick’s still responsible for him and it’s important for the two of them to spend time together.
But both of them know what it’s like to not have that, and he wants to do all he can to make sure Tim has someone, really has someone in his life.
Dick sighs. His breath is a white fog in the cold night air.
He starts his patrol. It’s a calm night. He walks his section of Crime Alley (and it still feels counterintuitive to walk the streets rather than fly across the rooftops), occasionally greeting people he passes. Some of them ignore him. Most watch him carefully, warily. The guy that owns the falafel cart on the corner of 14th street, Hector, is nice enough to him, but that’s probably just because he gives him a lot of business.
His nightly patrols are consistently fueled by cheap coffee and street food. It gives him very little leverage when trying to encourage Tim to eat less junk food. Other than Hector, the only people that get friendly with him when he’s Officer Grayson are the working girls and boys.
When he turns onto Park Row there’s an immediate whistle from Stacey across the street, and next to her Connie blows him a kiss.
Dick waves. “You ladies doing alright this evening?”“Better now that your pretty face is here,” Connie calls back. “I only wish you weren’t bad for business.”Stacey subtly signals him over, so Dick glances up and down the street before crossing to their side.
“Gotta do my job, keep everyone safe.”“You’re about the only cop in Gotham that does.”
He's known Stacey for years, though she doesn't know that. It had taken a lot longer to gain her trust as officer Dick Grayson than as Robin, but it was effort well spent. She’s always been helpful, and he enjoys being able to have a good relationship with her.
She used to give Robin candy sometimes. Dick didn’t want to take it because she shouldn’t have been spending her money on him when he could buy all the candy he wanted, but Bruce had told him to let her do it, that it was important to her. She doesn’t give Officer Grayson candy, but she does give him respect and information.“Is there a problem?” Dick asks quietly.
Lighting up a cigarette, Connie tells him, “There’s a newbie. Just a kid.”Stacey adds, “He’s a real good kid. I knew his mom before she ODed. He shouldn’t be out here.”“How old?”“Thirteen, I think.”Dick winces. He doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know. “Has he pulled yet?”“Not that I’ve seen, but it won’t take long. He has ‘fresh meat’ written all over him.”“Okay.” He shoves down a surge of anger, channels it into something useful: determination. “Where can I find him?”
“In front of the old theatre.”“Thanks, ladies.”“Just take care of him, yeah?”“I’ll do my best. You take care of yourselves,” he says, forcing a smile. “Put a jacket on, it’s cold out.”
Stacey laughs. “Honey, I haven’t felt the cold in ten years. Go on now.”
He goes. One block down, he reaches the abandoned theatre. On the corner, there’s a boy trying to hide the fact that he’s shivering, his skinny legs shaking in a pair of ripped jeans and faded sneakers. Shoulders hunched and hands shoved into pockets, his hair hangs in his face. His eyes are fixed to the ground.
Dick deliberately scrapes his heel against the concrete as he approaches, loud enough for the boy to hear.
His head whips around and wide, blue eyes go scared, then uncertain, before settling on something that’s not as intimidating as he probably thinks it is. “What do you want?” the kid snaps.Stopping a few feet away, he takes a casual sip of his coffee. “Just wanted to say hi. Talk for a minute.”The boy turns so he’s mostly facing Dick, but also ready to run down the alley next to him. “Well fuck off, I don’t have a minute.” He swallows, and makes a visible effort to loosen his posture, tilting his head in invitation. “U-unless you wanted to pay for my time.”Dick isn’t sure if this kid is brave or stupid. He raises an eyebrow. “You do realise you just propositioned an officer?”“I said you could pay for my time, after you said you wanted to talk. If you take that another way, that’s on you.”
Hm. Not totally stupid. “What’s your name?”He scoffs. “What d’you want, man? You gonna bust me? I haven’t done anything.”“Yet.”“Your point?”“You still have a chance to not do anything.”“Well I gotta do something if I wanna eat soon.”
He’s so tiny, and his legs look weak from something other than the cold. It must have been a long time since he’s had a good meal.
“I’ll buy you food,” Dick offers.The boy frowns sceptically. “What?”
“We can go to that burger place down the street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”“In exchange for what?”“Knowing you won’t have to do anything you don’t want to tonight.”
“Yeah right,” he says, rolling his eyes, “just out of the goodness of your heart? And what about tomorrow night?”“I patrol this road most nights. I wouldn’t mind bringing you something to eat.” Dick knows it’s not a permanent solution. Hell, it’s barely even a temporary solution.
The kid knows that too. “I need things ‘sides food. And I need to take care of myself. I can take care of myself.”“You shouldn’t have to, you’re just a kid.” God, does Dick know that. He knows what it feels like to be doing things you shouldn’t have to do at such a young age. About feeling like you have to take care of yourself, be strong and useful.He knows now it’s bullshit.The boy scowls at that. “I’ve been on my own for a while, alright, and I do just fine. I’m not a kid .”
“You call this fine? Putting yourself in danger like this? Go ask Stacey and Connie why they carry switchblades in their boots. About the times the johns took off without paying. Or maybe Connie can tell you why she needs medicine she can’t afford.”
Dick knows exactly where this will lead if the kid stays here.
“Look I get it,” the boy growls, voice unsteady. “This wasn’t plan A or even plan B, but it’s all I got right now. I don’t wanna do it either but I don’t have any other choice. It’s not like McDonald’s hires thirteen year-olds, and I ain’t gonna hurt nobody, so that throws out pretty much all the jobs to be had for a street rat in Gotham.”
“There’s no one that can take you in?” Dick asks. He shakes his head. “What about foster care?”“The last place they put me in, I woke up to one of the older kids in my bed and didn’t stay around long enough to get kicked out for breaking his nose. Figured I was better off on my own– at least I can get paid for it out here.”Dick’s heart is breaking, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. He’s seen this a hundred times and it always hurts, but this time… “I can help, okay? I can figure something out.” The boy shoots him a hard, disbelieving look. “Just, for now, let’s go get you that burger.”He chews on his lip for a minute. “I’m not going with you,” he says, eying the car that’s passing slowly, “but if you really wanna go get me some fries and a cheeseburger, I’ll stay here till you bring them.”
“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll be back in a minute. Please don’t leave.”The kid just looks away and wraps his scrawny arms around himself.
Dick’s surprised and relieved to find him still standing there when he gets back, greasy bag in hand. The boy takes the bag and inspects the food carefully before taking a bite of fries.
“Thanks,” he mumbles.
“Can I know your name now?”Reluctantly, he says, “Jason.”“Jason. I’m Dick.”Jason smirks. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, and I’ve heard all the jokes, believe me.”
“I bet.”
“I know a place you could stay,” Dick says, not sure he wants to go there until he’s already said it. But anything is better than this, right? And it would only be for a few days, until he can figure out a more long-term solution. “My… friend would be happy to take you in.”
“Why the hell should I trust you? I don’t know you or your friend. Letting some strange guy take me home sounds like a great way to get murdered.”“You know Stacey, right? You can ask her about me.”
Jason looks down the street at Stacey, who’s waving goodbye to Connie as she climbs into an old tan Carolla. “Okay, Dick .”Dick stays where he is. He sees Jason offer the rest of his fries and Stacey takes them, ruffling his hair. They talk for a few minutes.
Just for a few days. Jason will be safe with Bruce for a few days, and then… Dick knows what he’ll want to do then. It was his first thought, actually, but he’s not ready. Their apartment is so small, and he needs to talk to Tim about it first. And all that’s if Jason agrees. He hopes Jason is more scared of this life than he is of him.

Dick knows he has to do this. He knows he can’t let Jason stay here. He knows he can make this work. Probably.
He knows a lot of things.At the same time, he feels totally lost.
~“I don't care that you're a cop,” Jason says as he slides into the front seat of the cruiser, tugging Dick’s coat tighter over his thin shoulders, “one wrong move from you or your friend, and I'll break your face.”
Dick starts the car and turns on the heater. “Can you reach that high? Maybe you should try going for the crotch instead.”“Don’t think I won’t!” Jason is trying not to look vulnerable but it’s impossible.
Dick watches him, considering, and then, “How about this...” He pulls the taser from its holster on his hip and offers it over, handle first. “You can keep that, as long as you promise not to use it just for fun. If anyone does something wrong, if you think you’re in danger, you just press this button.”Jason stares at it for a long moment before taking it, holding it firmly with both hands in front of his chest like a shield. “This won’t do shit against your gun.”
Slowly, Dick takes his glock out and slides it beneath his seat. “There aren’t any guns where we’re going, and I only use mine as a last resort.”“You ever been shot?”Shifting into drive, he answers a tight, “Yeah.”“What happened?”“The Joker shot me. When I was a teenager.”Jason lets go of the taser with one hand to warm it in the stream of hot air blowing from the vent, the other still clutching his weapon closely. “Is that why you became a cop?”“The short version, yeah. Someone needs to protect kids from him.”“Most people would say that’s Batman’s job.”Dick can’t help but laugh, a short and bitter thing. “Sometimes it’s my job to protect kids from Batman too.”
Jason frowns. “The hell does that mean, what does Batman do to kids?”“Nothing,” Dick sighs. “Forget it. Sorry. Hey, you still hungry?”
They stop for tacos on the way out of the city.
“If you drop hot sauce in my car, you’re cleaning it up.”
Jason’s actually being really careful, laying out napkins across his lap. “I can eat without making a mess,” he snaps.
Okay, so he’s not ready for joking around like that yet. Jason’s still defensive, on edge about Dick doing things for him.
He softens his voice. “Hey, it’s fine, it’s not like it’s spotless in here anyway.” He then pulls out his cellphone. “Hey, Alfred, is Bruce there? No, you don’t have to– could you just ask him to come home? I’m on my way over with someone. Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Alfred. Bye.”
When Dick turns onto the bridge entrance, Jason asks, “Why are we going over the Kane? There’s nothing out there except mansions and shit.”“That’s where my friend lives.”
“In one of the mansions? You know this is sketchy as hell, right?”Dick laughs.
“Who is this friend anyway?”“He’s not really a friend.” Jason looks slightly panicked until he clarifies, “He adopted me.”“So… he’s your old man?”
“Yeah.”
As they turn onto the Wayne property Jason guesses, “It’s Bruce Wayne, isn’t it?”Dick looks over at him, a little surprised.“I read newspapers,” he says with a scowl. “Super rich dude named Bruce with an adopted son named Dick– Grayson, right? Everyone in Gotham knows that much. It’s not hard to figure out.”“Yeah. Yeah, it’s Bruce Wayne.”

The manor grounds are spooky at night, a dark, grassy expanse with shrubbery carefully groomed into odd shapes, sometimes geometric, sometimes animal. He takes the small road that leads to the side of the main house and pulls into the garage, parking alongside a dozen high-end cars worth far more than his department cruiser. Turning off the engine, he faces Jason, who’s eying the Rolls next to them.
“I know this is all intimidating,” Dick says, drawing Jason’s attention. “I came here when I was nine. I was terrified to touch anything. Just know if you do break something, it’s not the end of the world, Bruce has more than enough money to replace it. And it’s okay to ask for stuff, Alfred really does want to do things for you. You can explore, you can read the books in the library, you can swim in the pool. It’s all fine.”
Jason closes his eyes, wilting into himself. “This is so fucked up,” he says, voice small. “This is weird. You do know that, right? This shit just doesn’t happen, and I’m still not convinced you didn’t bring me here for… I don’t know. Weird shit. And now I’m trapped out in the middle of nowhere because I’m an idiot.”
As much as he wants to reach over and lay a hand on Jason’s back, Dick doesn’t move. “You’re not an idiot, you’re a smart kid. And I know this seems weird, but we also live in a city where a man dressed as a bat fights a crazy clown and a woman who can control plants, so I think weird is relative.”

Jason looks up at him.
“And you’re not trapped; I’ll get you out of here the second you tell me you want to leave.”“I wanna leave.”Dick moves to put the keys into the ignition.
“Wait! Wait, that was just… a test. We can stay. For now.”“Okay. And you have your taser,” Dick adds. “It’ll be okay. Are you ready to go inside? I think Alfred made cake.”“You’re literally luring me into the house with sweets!” Jason yells, but he laughs a little too. He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
Dick leads him through the door to the house, then down the hall to the sitting room.
“Who’s Alfred?” Jason asks as they walk inside, looking around at the art on the walls, the huge sofas, and the intricately carved wainscoting.
“That would be me, sir,” Alfred says, standing at attention, bearing a tea tray complete with an evenly sliced cake.“What the hell,” Jason whispers. “A butler? ”
“Jason, this is Alfred. Alfred, Jason.”Jason is still clutching the taser, but Alfred ignores it. “A pleasure, Master Jason.”
“ Master!? ”Dick sits down and, after a moment, Jason follows.
Alfred sets the tea and cake on the coffee table in front of them. “Master Bruce will be along shortly.”“Thank you.”“Will you be in need of anything else, sirs?”“I’m fine. Jason?”He shakes his head mutely, looking deeply uncomfortable.
When Alfred steps away, Dick says, “I meant it earlier, if you want anything just ask him.” Jason doesn’t answer, so he picks up his plate and leans back.
Jason stares blankly ahead of him. “Why are you doing this? I don’t– I’m just a street rat from Crime Alley, I don’t deserve any of this.”“What you don’t deserve is to be living on the streets, standing on the corner in the freezing cold to sell yourself just to be able to eat. Speaking of eating, the cake is really good, you should try it.”“Is it the one with strawberry icing? That’s my favorite,” Bruce says, entering the room. He shares a look with Dick, then approaches Jason, offering his hand. “Bruce Wayne.”
Jason stands and shakes his hand. “Jason Todd.”“Woah, firm grip there, son.”
Dick rolls his eyes at the man’s cheesy smile. “I brought Jason over to stay here for a few days.”
“Are you planning on using that thing on me?” Bruce asks, pointing toward the taser.
Jason meets his eyes evenly. “If I need to.”
“I won’t give you need to,” he says seriously.
From the doorway, Alfred appears. “Excuse me sirs, I took the liberty of preparing some of Master Richard’s old clothes. I believe they should fit young Jason well enough. I can show you to your room so you may clean up,” he tells Jason directly.
Jason hesitates, so Dick jerks his chin at Bruce, who steps away to speak with Alfred.
Quietly he says, “It’s okay, Jason. We can go if you want, but you’ll be okay here. Bruce and Alfred will take care of you while I figure out a plan. For now, why don’t you go with Alfred while I talk to Bruce. Come back here when you’re done and let me know if you want to stay.”
Jason nods. “Okay.”
“I believe, Master Jason, that Master Richard will require his uniform coat. I’m sure we have others you may wear.”“Oh.” Jason looks down at the jacket he’s swimming in like he forgot it was there. He unzips it with some reluctance.
“Sorry,” Dick says as the kid hands it back to him, “I’d let you keep it if I could. Now go on, I’ll be right here.”Jason walks over to Alfred and follows him out of the room, glancing back at Dick once before he leaves.
Silence stretches for a long moment before Bruce breaks it. “Where did you find this boy?”“Out on a corner in Park Row.”“Why him?”Dick knows what he means: why did he choose to save this one kid out of dozens? He sighs. “I’m not exactly sure.”“You can’t take in every child that needs a home, however much you may want to.”
“I’m not going to, Bruce. I just. I saw him and for a second I saw Tim, and myself, and even you. When you lost your parents, you had Alfred and a place to go home to. When I lost mine, you took me in. When Tim lost his, you took him in too. But this kid, he didn’t have anywhere to go. He’s been on the streets for who knows how long all by himself. He’s where I could have ended up if you hadn’t helped me. We were all lucky in that way and I want to do the same for Jason.
“He’s a good kid, I can tell.”
“Be careful. He could be dangerous,” Bruce warns. At Dick’s glare, he holds up an appeasing hand. “I don’t mean intentionally, I mean that coming from where he does and experiencing what he has, he will have trauma.”
“I’m fully aware of that, and I’m going to help him deal with it. Actually deal with it, not just throw on a costume and punch bad guys.”Bruce presses his lips together.“That’s what you’d do, right?” Dick asks, voice hard. “Slap an R on his chest and have him sort through his issues that way? Put him in the line of fire under the guise of helping him?” He rubs at his eyes tiredly. “Look I’m not here to argue this, I just need you to watch him until I’m ready. It’s just for a few days.”“He’s welcome to stay longer.”“He won’t need to.” You don’t get to keep him, Dick wants to say. “I have a plan.”
“I can take care of him. And Tim, too. He is my ward, after all.”“I know what happens to wards of yours. They’re better off with me.”

Bruce doesn’t answer and Dick doesn’t want him to. They’ve hashed this out before with neither of them seeing eye-to-eye, so why should this time be any different? Instead, they sit in silence and finish their cake.When Jason comes back, his hair is damp and his face is clean. More importantly, he’s dressed in warm clothes and not holding the taser gun defensively.Dick smiles. “So what do you think? Will this be okay for a little while?”
“Yeah.” Jason clears his throat. “It’s great. Thank you, Mr. Wayne, for letting me stay.”“It’s not a problem at all, son, glad to have you,” Bruce says warmly. “Now I’ve got some work to attend to, but Alfred can show you around.” He leaves with a nod.Taking out his ticket pad and a pen, Dick writes his phone number on the back of a blank ticket.. “I’ll be back soon to check on you, but feel free to call anytime.”“You said… for a few days. What’s going to happen to me after a few days?”“I have an idea, but… I have things I need to check on first and then I’ll talk about it with you, okay? We’ll discuss your options and what you want to do.”
“Okay.” Jason bites his lip, the paper crinkling, held tightly between his fingers. “Thank you, Dick.”
“You’re welcome, Jason. Thank you for trusting me.”~On the drive back to the station, he thinks about everything he’ll need to do in the next couple of days.But first thing’s first, he needs to talk to Tim.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tim wakes up to Dick doing handstand-push ups in the living room, which isn’t all that unusual. Except, he’s singing along to Pat Benatar as he does and that means he’s stressed.

“

We’re running with the shadows of the night...

”

“Rough shift?”

Feet hit the carpet and Dick rights himself with the well-honed acrobatic grace Tim envies. He’s never been able to come close to moving like him, even after months of Robin training. Dick’s abilities are the result of over twenty years of hard work, but that hadn’t been much comfort when Tim had seen the disappointment on Bruce’s face.

Dick assures him he’d learned a lot in such a short time, but obviously it hadn’t been good enough– Tim hadn’t been good enough. If he was, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

He keeps up with some of the training now, but not as extensively. They practice martial arts, but not how to disarm and disable a room full of people. Rather, they keep it to things an average person should know, not what a vigilante needs to fight crime. Still, compared to the other twelve year-olds in his class, Tim definitely knows more about kicking ass.

“You could say that.” Dick wipes sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. He must have been at it for a while. “Listen, kiddo, I need to talk to you.”

“Did something happen? Is everyone okay?”

“No one is hurt.”

Tim notices he didn’t actually answer the question. “Okay,” he says warily. “Can we talk while I eat breakfast? I need to leave soon, first period starts in like forty-five minutes.”

“Yeah, go ahead and eat, but depending on how this conversation goes, I might want you to not go to class today.”

Not go to school? Must be serious since Dick is strict about him going to school.

In the kitchen, Tim gets his bowl of Cheerios together and sits at the bar, feet dangling from a high stool.

Dick pours himself a glass of water and leans against the counter. “Okay. So.”

“So,” Tim mumbles around his cereal.

“I met a boy.” Tim raises an eyebrow and Dick rolls his eyes. “Not like that. On my patrol last night, there was this kid on the corner.”

On the corner.

He knows what that means, even saw it a couple of times during his short time as Robin.

Dick continues, “I took him to the manor. Just temporarily, to keep him safe and taken care of until I can find something better.”

Tim frowns. “You took a street kid you just met to Bruce’s house? Why?”

Dick gives him that look he sometimes does, like there’s something wrong with him. Tim does or says the wrong thing, and he doesn’t know it’s wrong until Dick’s eyebrows pull down in exactly that way. “Because it was better than watching him stand in the freezing cold waiting to get pulled by a john.”

Obviously, yeah, he’d want to help him, but… “What are you gonna do with him? Do you have something in mind already?”

“Well, here’s the thing… I was thinking he could come stay with us.”

“You’re gonna bring him

here?”

Tim asks, incredulous. “For how long?”

“Until he wants to leave. However long he wants that to be.”

“Wait, you want him to

live with us?

Permanently? We don’t even know him!”

“If you have a serious problem with this, I can figure out something else for Jason. But Tim, I want you to think hard before you say no. He’s a thirteen year-old kid with no family, no home, no money, no prospects. There’s no safe place for him to live. There’s no safe, legitimate way for him to support himself. He’s a good kid and I want to give him the same chance Bruce gave me.”

“Then why not let Bruce take him?”

There’s that look again. “You know why. You know exactly what Bruce will do with him. He’d get hurt, just like you and I did, maybe even worse. I won’t let that happen.”

“But... I just don’t understand why this has to become

our

responsibility. There’s other people that could deal with it.” Tim knows he’s being stubborn, but… but this is a lot. A lot to take in, a lot to ask for, a lot of everything.

“

It

is a human being, Tim. You need to remember that. He’s a scared kid barely older than you.” Dick’s getting mad. Why? Does he just expect him to go along with this blindly, without asking any questions? Questions like,

“How do you know he’s not just taking advantage of you?”

The soft early morning light shining through the kitchen window highlights the hard lines of Dick’s face and body as he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “None of this was his idea, okay? I had to work pretty hard just to get him into my car and I haven’t talked to him about living with us yet. What I don’t care for is your classist attitude right now. Just because he’s from Crime Alley doesn’t mean he’s dangerous or manipulative. It’s good to be cautious, but there’s a difference between that and being prejudiced.

“Just…” He pulls some of the harshness from his voice. “Trust me, okay? Can you do that? I have a good feeling about this. I think it could be good for us, too.”

“Why? We’re fine, just the two of us.” Tim doesn’t like the thought of someone else coming in and ruining what they have. They haven’t even had it for that long, but he likes it.

“Trust me,” Dick asks again. “Please.”

Tim drags his spoon through soggy cereal. “Do I need to decide right now?”

“No, but I do need you to think about it. Just don’t take too long, since I want to get the ball rolling on this. I was hoping I’d go talk to Jason today about what he wants to do–”

“Today?” His spoon drops with a loud plop. “You

just said

I don’t need to decide right away! This is– this is huge, and I don’t even know this guy. Do I even

have

a choice here?”

“Of course you do.”

“It doesn’t feel like it!”

“I already explained–”

“I don’t want this,” Tim interrupts. “Dick, I get you want to help. But...”

In the last year, he lost his parents, Robin, and his home– twice. Compared to all of that, maybe getting a new roommate isn’t the worst thing to happen to him, but

added on top of

everything else… He feels overwhelmed. If he were a cryer, he’d probably be tearing up now. “This is so much to dump on me before I’ve even finished breakfast, you know?”

Dick softens a little. “Okay. I don’t want to pressure you, Tim. I know this isn’t an easy thing to accept. I just got excited, I guess. I

am

excited.” He gives a little laugh. “I’m already thinking about where we can move to.”

Tim frowns. “We’re moving?”

“The two of us barely fit in this apartment as it is. With another person we’d need something bigger.” Dick grins wryly. “I’m looking forward to having a bedroom again, as fun as it is living on a couch.”

When Tim moved in, Dick gave him the single bedroom, choosing to sleep on the couch. He has to admit, it would be nice to be able to sit in the living room whenever he wants, or heat something up in the microwave without the risk of waking Dick up. Since he works the night shift, he sleeps during the day, usually while Tim is away at school, but on the weekends it can get inconvenient.

Tim tried to argue that it makes more sense for him to take the bedroom, but Dick insisted he have it. If they get a new place…

“We’d all have our own room?”

“Well,” Dick drags out the word. “I don’t know if we can afford a three bedroom apartment, but we’ll see what’s out there.”

The two of them are mostly living off Dick’s GCPD salary and occasionally the money Tim inherited when his parents died a few months ago. Technically Bruce, being the legal guardian, is in charge of the estate, but he doesn’t deny Tim access to the account when he asks– though most often the money goes to Dick since Tim’s still a minor. The inheritance is huge, enough to buy them a much larger, nicer place than where they’re living now, but Dick refuses to let him pitch in more than he thinks is reasonable.

“We

could

afford–”

“We’ve been over this,” Dick cuts in firmly. “I’m the adult here, it’s my job to provide. You shouldn’t have to pay for our apartment.”

“But I don’t mind!”

“I know, and you’re a good kid. But no. You can decide what to do with your money when you’re an adult. Until then, you get to live like a regular person.”

Tim pulls a face and Dick laughs.

“I think…” Tim asks, “Can I meet him?”

“Who, Jason?”

“Yeah. I think I would feel better about all of this if I talked to him.”

“I’m not gonna take you over there so you can interrogate him,” he warns.

“I think you have me confused with Bruce.”

“You two are too much alike sometimes.” Dick sighs. “Yeah, okay, that’s a good idea. I’m sure he would want to meet you too before agreeing to move in. Get dressed and we’ll go.”

Tim hops off the stool and runs to his room. “No school!”

~

Tim recognises Jason the second he sees him. It’s the same black hair and blue eyes, and he’s barely grown since the last time he saw him, not like Tim. Between Jason’s malnourishment and his training, they’re about the same size now.

This kid is the reason he became Robin in the first place. This is the kid that took the wheels off the batmobile last year. He’s a criminal.

This kid is also the one who made Batman laugh.

Tim remembers the way Batman had laughed when he came back to find three of his four tires lined up neatly off to the side, the fourth hanging by one lug nut. The photograph of that moment is of Tim’s favorites. He also has a photograph of Jason kneeling next to the back left wheel, loosening the bolts.

“Is something wrong?” Dick asks.

Tim realises he’s been staring and shakes himself. “No, no. Hi, I’m Tim.”

“Hi,” Jason says. “...Who are you?”

“Tim is my… little brother.” Tim can’t help but smile. That’s the first time he’s heard Dick say it like that. “Bruce is his legal guardian, but he lives with me.”

Jason’s eyes bounce between the two of them. “So this is like,

a thing

you do. Taking in strays.”

Dick chuckles. “Apparently.”

They’re in the library; that’s where Jason was when they arrived, in the far back corner of the room, feet tucked under himself with Jules Verne in his lap. Tim honestly had forgotten Bruce’s place had a library. He never spent any time here.

But Jason looks right at home with a stack of books beside him. He’d looked comfortable until he saw them, and then his body had gone stiff and his face guarded. He also kind of looks like a dweeb in Dick’s old clothes.

“You should’ve told me he was stuck in your dork jeans. I would’ve brought something for him to wear.” From the look Jason gives him, that was probably an asshole thing to say. Oops.

“What are you talking about?” Dick asks with mock-offense. He takes a seat in one of the big leather armchairs. “My clothes are totally hip. Right, Jason?”

“They fit okay and there’s no holes, so that’s all I need. These are the nicest clothes I’ve ever worn.”

Yeah, Tim’s definitely an asshole.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” Dick asks.

Jason nods. He’s lying. Dick can probably see it too, but he lets it go.

“Look, I don’t wanna sound ungrateful, but I want you to tell me what’s going on,” Jason says. “I don’t like not knowing what’s happening to me. At least on the street I knew what to expect.”

“Well…” Dick looks torn. Obviously he wants to invite Jason to come home with them, but Tim hasn’t approved yet. “I’m working on it. I wish I could give you something more concrete, but I have some options in mind and it might take a little time for it to sort out. But you’re safe here in the meantime, okay, and you’ll be safe wherever I end up taking you. I promise.”

“What’s the catch?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what would I have to do?” Jason asks. “For your help, for staying here, for going wherever you’re gonna take me?”

The implications of that question have Tim sucking in a sharp breath. Jason briefly glances at him, but then keeps his eyes on Dick, who clenches his teeth, but quickly puts on a neutral expression. “Nothing. You don’t have to– to earn it or pay for it.”

Jason looks doubtful, like he can’t believe a person would do all of this without anything in return. Tim can’t help feeling indignant on Dick’s behalf; he’s the most trustworthy, kind-hearted man on the planet. He was

Robin

, the brightest symbol of

good

and right Tim knows. He

created

Robin.

Tim was Robin too. He wasn’t as good at it as Dick, but he always tried to be good and right too. He had the best role model– and still does. The Robin thing to do here– the Dick thing to do– is to help Jason. So that’s what he’ll do.

“Dick,” he says, trying not to sound as reluctant or forced as he feels. “What we talked about earlier, it’s okay.”

The proud, grateful look he gets for that helps relieve some of the unhappiness.

Dick turns to Jason eagerly. “Do you want to come live with us?”

“With you two?” he asks, clearly thrown by the sudden invitation. “For how long?”

“As long as you want. If it’s okay with you, it could be permanent.”

Tim can relate to the slightly panicked

what the fuck is happening, why are you doing this?

written all over Jason’s face; he just went through that earlier this morning.

“No catch?”

“Just basic rules. Pass all of your classes, no drinking, no drugs, no smoking.” Dick must notice the small change on Jason’s face because he asks, “You smoke?”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“Okay, we can help you quit,” Dick says. “Have you been going to school?”

Jason inspects the floor. “Not for a while.”

“That’s fine. You can take a placement test, and then we’ll get you enrolled.”

“Don’t you, like, have to be my parent to enroll me? That’s why I couldn’t go, after my mom… after she was gone. I mean what are you gonna do?” he asks with a scoff. “Adopt me?”

“I’m going to assume legal responsibility of you. I’ll be your legal guardian. Is that okay?”

“

Jesus

, man,” Jason hisses, looking like he’s about to jump up and sprint out of the room– maybe all the way back to Crime Alley. His grip is tight on the book he never actually set down.

“Dude,” Tim whispers, poking Dick’s arm, “you’re freaking him out.”

Alfred appears in the doorway, clearing his throat. “Master Richard, Timothy, come help me prepare lunch. You may continue this discussion after everyone has had time to think about it,” he says pointedly.

The man has impeccable timing. Tim would really like to learn how he does that because even Bruce can’t pull that off.

The two of them dutifully follow Alfred to the kitchen, leaving Jason alone.

~

When they get to the kitchen, Dick moves off to sit at the table and stare out the window. His fidgeting reveals his anxiety over waiting on Jason’s decision.

“So, what do you think?” Tim asks, grabbing a coke from the fridge and popping it open. “About Jason?”

Alfred takes up a post at the cutting board. “I believe Master Richard possesses fine instincts.”

“You like him.” Tim leans against the counter and watches him chop vegetables, then dump them into a pot on the stove.

“He insisted upon washing his own clothes. The only reason he didn’t succeed is that he could not find the laundry room. I simply could not abide the boy washing them in the sink.”

Tim laughs at the mental image of Jason versus Alfred, politely arguing over doing the laundry.

“He is very reluctant to accept my services,” the butler adds.

“He’s just not used to it.”

“I remember well when a young Master Richard arrived here. He was reluctant as well, but not to such an extent. Master Jason values his autonomy greatly. That he allowed Master Richard to bring him here is quite telling of the severity of the situation he was in.”

“He might live with us.”

“I had assumed as much.”

“I’ve never really…” Tim snags a piece of carrot to munch on. “It was always just me and my parents, and they weren’t home a lot, and then it was me and Bruce, and he wasn’t home a lot. It was weird enough getting used to living with Dick, and now… I think it’ll be hard to live with Jason.”

Alfred hands over a full carrot, and Tim sticks out his tongue, but eats it anyway. “I imagine all three of you will be facing difficulties. There will be an adjustment period.”

“I notice you didn’t say it’ll work out.”

“I cannot guarantee that. But I am hopeful.”

When the food is ready, Alfred goes to collect Jason and they all meet in the dining room. Dick restrains himself from pressing the question again while they eat, but keeps sending these little searching glances at Jason like he’s hoping to read his mind about his decision. None of them talk much. Tim keeps his mouth shut altogether after making a comment on how much Jason eats that gets him that disappointed look from Dick again.

Finally, Jason sets his fork down. “I want to go to school.”

Dick blinks. “I– okay? Does that mean…?”

“If living with you means I can go back to school, then I’ll do it.”

What?

Really? That’s why he wants to live with them? To go to school? Tim shakes his head. What a nerd.

~

He follows Dick out to his car. “What now?”

“I’m going to drop you off at home, and then I’ll go talk to Gordon to see about getting my shifts covered for the next couple days while I’m sorting all this out. Then I’ll start the process to become Jason’s guardian.” He pauses, looks over at Tim. “Thank you.”

“You’re the one doing all the work here,” he deflects, uncomfortable. The difference, he thinks, between him and Dick, is that he’s mostly only accepting this out of obligation. And to make his big brother happy. He wonders if he’ll ever

really

be good. Dick keeps looking at him though so he mumbles, “You’re welcome.”

Dick finally pulls away from the manor. “Speaking of doing work, when we get home, you can get started packing.”

Tim groans, knocking his forehead against the window.

~

The next day is a Saturday, so they head out first thing in the morning to look at apartments without Tim having to miss school. Oh joy.

Alfred drives Jason into the city to meet them since Dick said it’s important for them to all find a place together. When the car pulls up to the curb, Jason hops out of the front seat before Alfred has a chance to try to open the door for him.

Jason’s wearing what Tim assumes are his own jeans and a t-shirt with one of Dick’s old jackets, likely because he didn’t have one of his own. Part of him feels vindicated. He knew Dick’s clothes were lame and Jason didn’t want to wear them in public.

They greet each other awkwardly. Tim feels like a housecat being introduced to the new dog as Dick stands back watching them, hopeful.

Inside the lobby, Dick greets the building’s owner. “Mrs. Kimball? Hi, I’m Dick Grayson, I called about the apartment.”

“Hello, Mr. Grayson–”

“Call me Dick, please,” he interrupts, taking her hand to shake and treating her to a wide, warm smile. Tim can practically see her melt.

“O-of course, Dick. In that case, call me Vanessa.”

He repeats her name, “

Vanessa

,” and she raises her hand to her chest when he finally lets it go.

Jason leans in to whisper to Tim, “Is he always like that?”

“You should see the way he talks to waitresses. He gets free pie,” he whispers back. Not that Vanessa would notice even if they started shouting, she’s only got eyes and ears for Dick now. “It’s gross to watch, but then I get to eat the pie, so.” Tim shrugs.

“Let me show you to my apartment. The!” She laughs nervously. “

The

apartment, I mean.”

They file into the elevator and ride up to the top floor. Vanessa leads them down the hall and unlocks the last door on the left. “Here it is,” she says, walking inside.

There’s a kitchen and a living room and one bathroom and a linen closet, even a balcony and it’s all pretty great, except…

“There’s only two bedrooms,” Tim points out.

“You and Jason can share a room. I’ll get you bunk beds, that’d be cute.”

Tim’s not sure if he’s being fucked with or not. Also, it’s definitely not

cute

to have bunk beds. “I think we should keep looking. You have a whole list of apartments to hit up today.”

Vanessa quickly interjects, “There’s a gym in the basement! I’m sure you boys could make use of that,” she says, eyeing Dick’s arms.

“See, Tim? There’s a gym right downstairs.”

“

Dick

.”

“Vanessa, would you excuse us for a minute,” he asks, turning up the charm in his smile, and she responds with a bright smile of her own and goes out into the hall. “Jason, come here.”

Jason walks over from where he’d been inspecting the kitchen. “I think this place is great.”

“You’d think any place is great.”

The horrified look Dick gives him then makes Tim want to crawl into a hole. It’s way worse than the usual Tim-said-something-wrong look.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Tim says to the floor. He knew that was bad the second it left his mouth. Forcing himself to meet Jason’s eyes, he says again, “Sorry.”

Jason gives a curt nod and shrugs. “‘S probably true.”

“Still.”

“Yeah.”

Dick shakes his head. “This place

is

great.” He raises a finger for each reason he lists. “It’s in a good neighborhood, close to your school, and to the station. It’s in our price range and we’re on the top floor. The building has a low number of break-ins on record. I did a background check on the Kimballs and all of the tenants– no sex offenders or mobsters or loonies working for Two-Face.”

Jason looks at him sharply. “Is that a shot at me?”

“What?” Dick asks, baffled.

“The Two-Face thing.”

“Did– did you work for Two-Face?”

“No, my…” Jason bites his lip. “My dad did. ‘Til he got pinched.”

“Oh. Jason, I didn’t know.”

“I figured you’d looked me up and saw.”

“I only double-checked that there wasn’t any next of kin, maybe someone you didn’t know about to make sure I wasn’t taking you away from family. I didn’t dig any further than I needed to, I promise. Anything else, I figured you’d tell me, if and when you wanted to. It’s not my job to know every detail about your life.”

“Okay,” Jason says, too casually.

“Dick, there’s gotta be a place just as good with three bedrooms.”

“There’s really not, not at a comfortable price. The others on my list aren't nearly as good as this one, or way too expensive.”

“But I could–”

“Do not bring that up again.” His firm tone has Tim snapping his mouth shut. “This one is safe and practical. Can we all agree?”

“Sure.”

“Fine.”

“Great! Vanessa, I’m ready to sign!” he yells.

Their new landlady practically squeals from the hall

Jason turns to Tim. “You gonna be okay sharing a room with me?”

“Yeah, man,” he answers, trying to sound more confident than he feels. He wishes he could be the kind of person that would be totally fine with all of this, like Dick. It’s too late back out now and it would suck to have to live with a guy he hates, so he wants it to work. But he still doesn’t want it to be happening. He sighs, silently saying a mournful goodbye to the nice little nest he and Dick had built together. “No problem.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jason shifts. The bench is so hard and they’ve been sitting in this hallway for so damned long that his ass is going numb. People in suits and uniforms walk by, drinking coffee or chatting about cases and clients.

He could really use a smoke.

“You okay?” Dick asks.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Sorry it’s boring. I wish I’d thought to bring something to do.”

That would have been nice. Jason’s been making pictures from the scratches in the hardwood floor, like constellations. “Like what?”

Dick shrugs. The old bench creaks as he shifts toward him, raising his right foot to rest on top of his left knee. “Cards, maybe. You know how to play poker?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you could’ve taught me.”

“You don’t know how to play?” That’s surprising. For some reason Dick seems like he knows everything.

“It never came up. Who taught you?”

This is the first time Dick’s asked about his past. He considers not saying anything, but it’s easy to answer. “There was this old Mexican woman who lived across the hall, back when my mom was still around. She used to watch me sometimes. Mrs. Ovila taught me lots of stuff. Poker, cooking, sewing, cursing…”

“Cursing?”

“In Spanish. She tried to teach me conversational Spanish too but I was mostly interested in the bad words.”

Dick laughs. “I was too, but Bruce made me learn all the boring stuff.”

He does know everything. “It comes in handy. Sometimes I wish I’d paid better attention to Mrs. O.”

“I could teach you.”

“You’re busy, with work and stuff.”

“I can make time.”

Jason’s already taking so much, he doesn’t need more. He shifts again, uncomfortable now because of more than the bench. He feels very small, and somehow still managing to take up way too much space.

“How are things at the manor?” Dick asks.

Alfred gets him anything he might need even when he hasn’t asked for it. Bruce acts warm and open but Jason doesn’t really buy it. He got lost his first day there; he drew a map between the library and kitchen and his room. Outside is just grass and trees and flowers and silence; he can’t remember ever being without the sounds of the city before.

Jason wants to get out of that place as soon as possible. “Fine.”

He’s pretty sure Dick can tell he’s lying, but he doesn’t want to talk about it and seem ungrateful so he changes the subject. “Tim’s not really your brother, is he? I saw a lot of photos of you around the house but none of him.”

There’s a long moment before Dick answers. “Tim wasn’t there for very long before he came to live with me.”

“Why was he at Bruce’s in the first place?”

“It’s not really my place to tell you about that.”

“Well, why did he leave?”

Dick suddenly looks very angry, more than he’s ever seen him before, but it’s gone just as fast. “Bruce put Tim in a dangerous situation and he got hurt. I didn’t think it was safe for him to stay there.”

“But I’m staying there, wha–”

“Not for much longer though,” he interrupts with a smile. “Don’t worry. I can’t get into it, but you’ll be okay until we get this all sorted out, which should be soon,” he says, glancing at his watch.

Just then a uniform walks over. “Hey, Grayson.”

Dick smiles up at the man. “Smithy. What’s up?”

“I’m here to take the kid into the judge’s office.”

“Oh! Okay.” Dick turns
to Jason. “You go with Smith and I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

The bailiff shows Jason into an office down the hall and tells him to wait. A few minutes later, a man enters and sits behind the desk. “Hello, Jason. I’m Judge Roberts.”

“Hello.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” Dick had said they were coming to court to get the paperwork finalised. Jason didn’t know he’d have to do anything other than stand there.

“I just wanted to talk to you before I sign off on this,” the judge says, holding up a thick folder. “Before I approve Mr. Grayson to be your legal guardian, I want to hear from you whether or not that’s really what you want.”

“Why, is– is there something wrong with him? Should I not want this?” Please, please say no, please say–

“No, no. Nothing like that. I always do this, to make sure the child is comfortable with the situation.”

Jason lets out a relieved breath. “Oh, okay. Then yes, I’m sure.”

“And you’re not being forced or coerced into this?”

“No, sir.”

“I didn’t think so. He seems like a good man. Has a solid record with the GCPD and Captain Gordon gave him a great character testimony.”

“That’s… good.” It is good. Dick is good.

“Well then let me just…” He flips to the last page and scribbles out a signature. “There. It’s official. You, young man, are now in the custody of Richard Grayson.”

Jason doesn’t know how he feels right now. He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. A few days ago, he was psyching himself up to suck a dick for cash, and now he’s got a home in the Upper West Side and someone– someone

good–

willing to take care of him.

Back in the hallway, Judge Roberts shakes his new guardian’s hand.

Dick looks so happy.

Maybe that’s what Jason feels: happy.

But also terrified.

~

Part of him is waiting for Dick to turn around and say,

Gotcha! This was all a joke, get out of here!

But instead the man just points at the display bunk beds and asks, “What do you think?”

“I thought you were kidding,” Tim whines. He throws himself dramatically onto a nearby mattress, bouncing twice.

“It’s practical, Tim. There’s not a whole lot of space in your bedroom. Jason? I want your honest opinion on all this stuff; it’ll be your home too.”

Honestly, he’d rather have two seperate beds on either side of the room but he’s really not that picky, especially when it’s being offered to him for free. And Tim is a spoiled brat.

“It’s a great idea,” Jason replies, enjoying the way Tim’s face falls with betrayal.

“Great! Do you want the wood one or the black metal?”

“Black.”

“Wood.”

Dick’s eyes flit between the two of them staring each other down. “Shit,” he mumbles. “This isn’t a good start, is it? Okay, why don’t you take turns? Tim can pick the bed and then Jason can pick out the dresser.”

They ignore him. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“You’re on.”

Together, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Jason holds out rock. Tim chooses scissors.

“Dammit, fine! But I’ll get the next one.”

“Sure you will. We’re getting the wood bunk beds,” Jason tells Dick with some satisfaction. Then he panics, just a little. Maybe he should’ve just kept being non-confrontational. Out of the way, as easy as possible. What if Tim throws a fit, decides he doesn’t like Jason and isn’t willing to put up with him? Obviously Dick would choose Tim over him, and then where would he be?

“Umm.” Dick looks like he wants to object somehow, but in the end just sighs. “Okay.”

Tim stomps off in the direction of the dressers.

“He can be a little ass sometimes,” Dick says, watching him go.

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Jason, not having heard him swear before, or say anything bad about Tim.

Dick grins. “Come on, let’s see how many times you can beat him before he snaps.”

“What happens if he snaps?” Jason asks with some hesitation.

“He usually just gets all emo, puts on his headphones, then sulks around for a while and won’t talk to anyone.”

“But if… if he gets mad because of me…”

“He’s a twelve year-old boy, he gets mad at everything.” Dick rubs his temples and for the first time that Jason’s noticed, he looks really tired. “Now I have two of you little monsters.”

Jason carefully doesn’t make any noise that would draw attention to himself as the memory smashes into him with the force of a subway train, and his body locks up like it can’t tell the difference between Dick and Willis Todd.

You little monster! You’re just takin’ up all my money. Why don’t you go out there and do somthin’ fuckin’ useful for once!

Dick drops his hands. “It’ll be okay. Let’s– hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His voice shakes. He hopes Dick will just let it go like all the other times.

Of course he doesn’t.

“Jason…” Dick sits down on a display mattress, hands twitching like he wants to reach out and touch him, but he holds himself back. He does that a lot. Jason appreciates it. “Look, I don’t want to push you to talk to me if you’re not ready, but there are some things I should know. I need to know what might upset you so that I won’t do or say the wrong thing.”

Jason nods. It makes sense. It makes sense, but the thought of ripping himself open for Dick to see all of the ways he’s been hurt, of telling someone exactly the worst ways to scare him… The thought is horrifying.

“Maybe this isn’t the best place to get into it,” Dick admits, glancing around the store. “But soon. Can you promise me we’ll talk soon?”

“Yeah… Soon.” If soon is never.

“Good,” Dick says, even though he can clearly tell Jason is lying. “And I’m sorry for implying I don’t want to have you. This is gonna be hard on all three of us from time to time, but even if I get mad at you or Tim, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna kick you out or anything. Alright?”

Jason swallows. He wants to hear that again. He wants it recorded, written down so he can go back and read it over and over. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Dick stands. “Okay, we need to find Tim before he gets fed up and just leaves without us.”

When they find the other boy, he’s sitting on top of a dark wood dresser, dangling feet swaying from side to side. It has two rows of four drawers, one side for each of them.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

They don’t really need to, Jason likes this one. But he can’t let Tim win that easily.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Tim holds out rock. Jason, paper.

“Fuck!”

“Hey, let’s keep some of the more vulgar obscenities down in public,” Dick says. “Now where’s a sales rep… Over there. Which dresser are we getting, Jason?”

He points to the one Tim picked with his most annoying shit-eating grin.

“Are you kidding me?” Tim throws his hands in the air.

Dick’s laugh has a slightly hysterical edge to it. “You guys… This is going to be fun.”

~

Jason has only known Dick and Tim for a little over a week when he moves in with them. Though it’s not really moving, at least for him, because he doesn’t have much of anything to move into the apartment other than one bag of clothes Alfred had bought for him. Except… there is stuff he left behind. Most of it is trash, and not really important, especially not when Dick is willing to buy him whatever he needs, but there are a couple of things he wants to keep.

Or rather, one thing. He hasn’t had a chance to go back to Crime Alley since he’s been in the manor all the way over in Bristol, but he could go now. He should go now, since it’s entirely possible someone’s already found the hole he was squatting in, and did God knows what with his stuff.

Maybe he can grab a cigarette while he’s there.

Dick and Tim are lifting a bookcase out of the moving truck. As soon as they carry it inside the building, Jason can sneak off. He sets down the box he was going to take up and when they’re through the door, he starts walking down the sidewalk.

“Jason?”

He stops and turns reluctantly.

“Where are you going?” Dick asks.

It’s like he has eyes in the back of his head. Or a sixth sense for bullshit. Maybe because he’s a cop? They train for that sort of thing, right?

“Uh, nowhere.”

He crosses his arms. “Please don’t lie to me, Jason.”

Jason’s heart rate picks up. “I just– I have to go back and get something.”

“From Bruce’s?”

“No. From… from my place on Park Row.” Dick’s eyebrows shoot up. “It’s important,” Jason stresses.

“Okay.”

“I– really? I can just go?” Jason asks incredulously.

“Well, I’m going with you. I can’t just let you go back there by yourself, it isn’t safe. But if you need to go, I’ll take you. You’re not a prisoner here, Jason.”

“You know I lived there my whole life,” he can’t help but point out. “I’d be okay on my own.”

“That’s nice,” Dick answers arily. “I’ll take you over there when we’re done here. For now, we need some help with the bookcase.”

In the afternoon, Jason rides with Dick to return the moving truck to the rental place. Afterward, they take the train across the city to Crime Alley.

At the corner of 14th street, Dick waves to the guy selling falafels. “Heya, Hector!” and gets a curt nod.

The sun is starting to set. Jason tugs his jacket tighter. “You didn’t bring your gun,” he notices.

“I don’t carry it unless I’m on duty.”

“Even down here? Since it’s

so unsafe

,” he says, a little mockingly.

Dick just rolls his eyes. “Excuse me for trying to keep you from getting hurt. And I don’t need a gun to be able to do that.”

They arrive at the condemned building he used to live in with his parents, back when it was only almost condemned. The doors are all chained shut, but Jason hops onto a crate underneath a window he’d managed to jimmy open. He checks the string he’d rigged as a makeshift alarm. “No one’s been in here since I left. My string is still on the sill.”

“Smart,” Dick says approvingly.

Jason hides a smile. “You can stay out here. I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t want Dick to see what it’s like inside, and luckily, he nods after a moment. “Call if you need me.”

Popping the window open, Jason climbs through. Inside is musty and dim from the fading light shining through dirty windows. He can navigate this place even in the dark, stepping around weak spots in the floor. Down the hall on the left is where he called home: a bare mattress on the ground and a small burner he’d rigged together. There are a few tattered books and a Rolling Stones poster but none that is what he’s here for.

He picks up the picture frame. His mom smiles up at him.

She’d be happy, right? If she could see that he’s leaving this place for good. It’s where she raised him. It’s where she died. He’s stayed here to stay with her… but she’s gone. He needs to be gone too.

He’s moving on.

On top of a cinder block, he finds the pack he’d left. Inside are four cigarettes and a little blue lighter. He lights one, leaning back against peeling wallpaper.

Jason looks around his old home and says goodbye to the ghosts there. It takes as long as the cigarette lasts.

Outside, Dick asks, “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah. I did.”

~

Jason and Tim are standing in their new bedroom. It has one small closet and one window. Two twin mattresses are propped up against the wall next to some boxes with

Tim

scrawled on the sides in red marker. In front of them is the box containing the pieces that will be their bed after they assemble it. Dick had told them to build it together.

With a pocket knife, Tim slices open the box. He picks up the directions and frowns. “It’s just pictures.”

“Huh?”

“Look, there’s no writing.”

“Oh. That’s pretty smart.”

“How is that smart?”

“Not everyone can read, or understand English,” Jason explains, pulling out the pieces. He sorts and stacks the different shapes and sizes. “This way, anyone can put it together, no problem.”

“Hmm. Okay first step is… I need the long board and the medium board.”

“There’s six long boards. And which size do you mean by

medium

, because there’s a lot of different ones here.”

“The one in the picture has two holes on the bottom.”

“On the left side?”

“Right.”

“The right side?”

“No, left.”

“You just said right.”

“I meant–” Tim finally looks up from the paper and at the pieces. He points. “Just give me that one.”

“Can I see the instructions?”

“Why? I’ll just tell you what I need.”

“I’m not your caddy,” Jason snaps. “Let me help.”

Tim tosses the booklet at him. “While you’re getting caught up, I’ll be screwing these boards together.” Grabbing the baggie of screws and the screwdriver, he gets to work.

God, he’s a bitch.

Jason scans the pictograph. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. That one’s upside-down.”

“What?”

“See here,” Jason kneels down next to him on the carpet. “This ridge should be on the bottom.”

Tim looks at the page carefully, then takes out the screws he just put in, jaw clenching.

Jason examines the next step, and picks out the piece they’ll need. When Tim’s done, he moves into place and takes the screwdriver.

“I call bottom bunk,” Tim says.

“What? We haven’t even finished building it yet.”

Tim shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I can’t call it.”

“You can’t just say you want something and expect to get it.” Jason considers that for a second. “Well. Maybe

you

can. It’s probably what you’re used to.”

“First of all, that’s literally how

dibs

works. I called it, it’s mine. Second,” Tim says, hands on his hips, “I don’t get everything I want. I wanted the black bed frame and I didn’t get that.”

“Was that the first time in your life? Because you’re acting like it.”

“I’m not some spoiled rich kid!”

“Yes, you are,” Jason argues as he stands up. Tim’s been shitty toward him all week and he’s had enough. “You’re a brat and I don’t need you bossing me around, acting like you know everything.”

“I know more than you think.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I saw–”

“Guys?” Dick’s standing in the doorway. He takes in their angry faces, the curled fists, and his lips press together unhappily. “We need to have a chat. In the living room.”

Neither of them move; Tim probably out of defiance and Jason because he’s frozen. He did something bad, Dick caught him doing something bad. He messed up and Dick is mad at him. He’s been doing such a good job at keeping himself in check every time he gets mad, why did he have to–

“

Now

.”

He flinches, fighting the urge to raise his arms protectively. He doesn’t need to, right? Dick Grayson isn’t Willis Todd. Dick Grayson is a good man. He won’t hurt him.

But Jason doesn’t

know

that, does he? He hasn’t seen what Dick does when he’s angry.

Tim doesn’t seem afraid. He just drops the instructions and storms out of the room, leaving them alone.

“It’s okay,” Dick says, more gently. “We just need to talk about a few things. Come on.”

Jason goes.

“You two sit on the couch.”

They drop onto cushions on opposite sides. Jason feels like his organs are going to shake themselves down into a liquid form and then fall right out his ass.

Dick stands in front of them, arms crossed. “Alright. First of all, I’m resigning myself to there being some yelling around here. Just try to keep it down enough to not piss off the neighbors. Second, remember that I’m new at this. I went from having zero kids to two in a matter of months. I’m still learning, but I’m trying my best, so please be patient with me.”

“I’m not

your kid

,” Tim snaps.

Jason holds his breath, waiting for… something.

But Dick doesn’t move, doesn’t even change his expression. “Tim, shut up and stop being an asshole for no reason.”

“I’m not!”

Dick raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Then tell me your amazing reason for being an asshole.”

“I was trying to say I’m not being an asshole.”

“You’ve been a brat for days, buddy.”

“Everyone needs to stop telling me that!” Tim yells. “I’m not an asshole and I’m not a spoiled brat!”

“Well, you sure aren’t being a helpful ray of sunshine.”

Tim looks away, pouting.

Dick closes his eyes for a long moment. “What I brought you guys out here to talk about is this: I know this is a weird situation, and it’s hard on everyone, but we need to try and find a way to live together without killing each other. You need to be friends, or at least civil. You were only in that room for ten minutes before you started fighting. Are you listening,Tim?”

A grunt.

“If you have a problem, you need to

talk

about it,” Dick continues. “I know that’s not an easy thing for any of us, but it’s important. And I know you boys are right at that age where your hormones are going crazy and–”

“Oh god,” Tim groans, and Jason cringes too. “Are you gonna give us

the talk?

”

Dick says, “Not today,” with a sour face, the implication being he will one day, and Jason kind of wants to die. “I’m just saying twelve and thirteen year-old boys act ridiculous and part of it isn’t your fault. You’re all just a little bit crazy for a few years. But try your best to rein in the irrational anger, for all of our sakes. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

“Such enthusiasm. I love it.” Dick claps his hands once. “Alright, it’s late and it’s a school night, so I’m gonna help you get your beds set up so you can go to sleep.”

Jason breathes, nearly in disbelief that it’s over, just like that. Dick got mad and just…

talked

to them about it, and now he’s going to

help

. He can’t remember the last time he got in trouble and walked away without a bruise. It takes a long time for him to calm down; for the next hour, part of him still expects to get hit.

They finish assembling the bed and Tim wins the bottom bunk in another round of rock, paper, scissors.

While Tim goes to take his turn in the shower, Jason grabs the taser Dick had given him the night they met and the picture frame from where he’d tucked them away in his jacket, and climbs up into bed. He lies down underneath a brand new blanket on his brand new mattress and lays his mom down next to him, the taser under his pillow like he’s had it for over a week. He doesn’t really think he’ll need to use it, but the thought of not having it is really scary.

But he’s warm and full of the pizza Dick had ordered for them, and that’s worth putting up with the discomfort of sharing living space with people he barely knows.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dick hears the faint beeping of Tim’s alarm going off for fifteen seconds before it stops. A minute later, Jason wanders out into the living room where he’s hanging from a pull-up bar in the doorway to his own bedroom, in the middle of a set.

The boy squints at him, eyes still droopy from sleep. “What the hell are you doing?” he mumbles groggily.

“Exercising!”

“You do remember there’s a gym downstairs?”

“Why go all the way down there?” Dick drops from the bar. “Is Tim getting up?”

“Um, he rolled over and put his pillow over his head, so…” Jason trails off, shrugging.

Dick opens his mouth to shout at Tim to wake up, but he’s noticed Jason reacts badly to raised voices, so he walks over to their room. “Get up, Tim,” he tells the lump in the bottom bunk.

The lump makes a sort of noise that reminds him of that time he had to swing a pig to safety. “Tim, if you’re not up in five minutes, I’m getting the spray bottle.”

Back in the kitchen, Jason is tentatively inspecting the mostly bare pantry. Dick wishes he could say it’s that way because they haven’t unpacked yet, but that’s about how it always is.

“Do you want breakfast? We have cereal and… cereal. Oh! And Poptarts.” Dick scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry. We don’t cook much.”

Grabbing a pack of strawberry Poptarts, Jason asks, “Can I have this?”

“Have whatever you want,” he assures him.

Dick goes into his room to get changed out of his sleepy-time sweats. When he comes out, Jason is gone and Tim is glaring at the closed bathroom door.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Stop pouting, you can wait five minutes.”

Tim rolls his eyes and heads for the pantry. “Wait, where are the strawberry Poptarts? I had one left and it’s gone.”

Jason walks out of the bathroom.

“You!” Tim accuses, pointing. “Did you take my last Poptart?”

“I–” Jason glances at Dick, eyes wide.

“Calm down, Tim,” Dick sighs. “I told him he could have it.”

“The thought of that strawberry Poptart was literally the only thing that got me out of bed this morning.”

“I’ll buy you more later, drama king. Now eat some cereal and get ready for school. We’ve got to leave soon.”

“‘We’?”

“I’m taking Jason to get enrolled. You can ride with us.”

“Great.” Tim eats his cereal moodily.

Dick didn’t know one could eat cereal moodily.

He hopes mornings won’t always be like this.

~

When they pull into a parking space at the junior high school, Tim practically falls out of the car and into the sea of students entering the building the second Dick turns off the car.

“Class doesn’t start for ten minutes,” Dick says to himself. He pokes his head out the window and calls, “Remember, I’m going back to work tonight, so I need you home before dark!”

Tim waves over his shoulder.

“I love you!” Dick yells, just to see his reaction.

Tim runs through the front door.

“I think he’s embarrassed of me,” Dick tells Jason, turning to grin at him in the back seat. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Is that curfew, ‘before dark’?” he asks.

“Generally, yeah, on days that I work. I don’t want to have to be worrying about you while I’m on the job. It’s easier to know you’re safe at home.” Before Jason can protest that he’s capable of taking care of himself, Dick opens the door. “Are you ready for this?”

Jason steps out of the car and together they walk to the school.

Dick has only been here once, for a parent/teacher night at the beginning of the semester a couple of weeks ago. All of Tim’s teachers had said the same thing: he’s smart but unmotivated. Dick’s been trying to figure out a way to get him to care about his grades. Hopefully he won’t have to worry about that with Jason; he seems really eager to do well here.

On the way through the parking lot someone calls his name, and Dick turns to see Kelly Lin, a fellow beat cop from his precinct. She walks over to them, pulling a boy alongside. “Hey, Grayson.”

“Lin. How’s it going?”

“Good, good. Is this Tim?” she asks, glancing at Jason.

“Oh, uh. No, this is Jason. Jason, this is Kelly. I work with her.”

“That’s–

oh

.” Kelly’s eyes go wide. Dick hadn’t wanted everyone to know that he’d taken home a kid from Park Row– he just didn’t want it to be made into a big deal. But inevitably, seeing as he works in a building full of detectives, someone had figured out something happened when he cut his patrol short that night and subsequently asked to have his shifts covered for over a week.

He’s also pretty sure someone took a peek at his report for that night; he wouldn’t have included Jason in it, but he knew it would help when becoming Jason’s guardian for the court to be able to see an official statement of how they met. As a result, the whole precinct knows about Jason and the circumstances under which Dick found him. Including Kelly.

She quickly pastes on a cheerful smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Jason. Are you…”

“We’re here to enroll him,” Dick interrupts before the question can go any further.

“That’s great! That’s just wonderful,” Kelly says with far too much enthusiasm and he internally begs her to cool it down five notches. “Maybe you’ll have some classes with Freddy!” She tugs at the arm of the boy beside her, who glances over at Jason disinterestedly.

“Yeah, that’d be… good. Sorry, Lin, but we have an appointment with the vice principal, so…” Dick thumbs over his shoulder.

“Oh! Of course, good luck, Jason! See you later, Grayson.”

Jason gives her a wary look like he doesn’t enjoy the attention and doesn’t know what to do with it.

Dick nods his goodbye and they continue on. Inside, he finds the office and approaches the front desk, Jason trailing after him. “Hello,” he greets the receptionist, “I have an appointment with Vice Principal Wheeler, my name is Dick–”

“Grayson,” the woman finishes for him with a smile. “Yes, I remember you. Timothy Drake’s brother, right?”

He’s sure he didn’t introduce himself as Tim’s brother at the parent/teacher meeting, but people tend to label them that way. It’s easier to just go along with it rather than try and explain the situation. And besides, he doesn’t mind being thought of as Tim’s brother. “Um, yes, that’s me. And this is Jason.”

“Hi,” she says, but she barely glances at him. “I’ll let Mr. Wheeler know you’re here,” she says to Dick. “In the meantime, you can take a seat.”

“Thank you.”

“Must be nice,” Jason mumbles once they’re out of earshot. “To have people fawning all over you all the time.”

“Actually, it’s not.”

Jason looks like he doesn’t believe him.

“Sometimes it can be useful,” Dick amends. “But no, it’s not as great as you think.”

“Tim told me you get free pie.”

“Well, that’s one of the times it’s useful.”

“If you don’t like it, then why do you flirt with everyone?”

“I don’t flirt with everyone.”

Again, with the disbelief.

“Honestly, most of the time I’m not trying to. I’m just a charming guy. Too charming for my own good,” he says sadly, shaking his head.

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Mr. Grayson?”

“Mr. Wheeler.” Dick stands and shakes the man’s hand. So does Jason, and it’s only the second time he’s seen him touch anybody, the first being when he shook Bruce’s hand. Jason lets go quickly; he doesn’t like it, but he has a talent for recognizing people who can either hurt or help him. He’s ingratiating himself.

Dick smiles. He knew he liked this kid.

“Jason Todd.”

“Good to meet you, Jason. Why don’t we talk in my office?”

Wheeler leads them down a short hall and into a small room where he sits behind the desk. “I understand you’re looking to enroll Jason? In what grade?” he asks, folding his hands in front of him.

“That’s the problem,” Dick explains. “We’re not sure. Jason hasn’t been to school in… a while.”

“Why not?”

Next to him, Jason tenses.

“I don’t think that’s important,” Dick says. Wheeler starts to protest but he just smiles blandly. “The reason is nothing that would affect his performance or behavior as a student here. We were just hoping he could take a placement test and see where to put him from there.”

The vice principal’s mustache twitches, but he nods. “Very well. Are you ready to take the test today?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll have Miss Park set it up then. The test should take a few hours. Mr. Grayson, you’re welcome to wait here or come back to pick him up when he’s finished. We’ll review the results of the test tomorrow.”
He stands and leaves. “Susan, I need you to…”

Dick looks at Jason. “I’m going to go run some errands, unless you don’t want me to leave?”

Twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers, he says, “I don’t need you to stay.”

“Okay. Good luck, buddy.” He resists the urge to clap him on the shoulder.

~

Dick loves the Gotham City Library. It’s old and huge and beautiful and, most importantly, Babs works here.

She’s at the desk, facing away from him, stamping books. Her red hair shines in the light coming through the high, stained-glass windows.

He leans against the counter.

“You still have a book overdue from three years ago,” she says, not turning around. “Do you know how much the late fee racks up for that?”

“By now it’s gotta be more than the book is worth.”

“Excuse me, every book is priceless.” Barbara turns to face him. She smiles. “Hey there.”

“Hi, Babs.”

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s a library,” he points out, spreading his hands. “One might assume I’m here for books.”

“Not one that knows you.”

“That’s not fair, I read that one book three years ago.”

“And look how that turned out.”

Dick grins. “Do you have a break soon? I want to talk to you.”

Pushing aside the stacked books, she moves to stand closer to Dick. “Is this about the boy?”

“Did B tell you?”

“My dad did. He knows we’re friends, thought you might come to me eventually– and look at that: here you are.”

“He’s a wise man.”

“He’s the one who’s actually raised a child, maybe you should be getting advice from him instead.”

Dick had thought about it, but as much as he respects Jim Gordon, he isn’t comfortable enough around him to open up about all of his fears and insecurities. “Yeah, but he’s not as nice to look at.”

“Dick Grayson, did you just imply my worth is rooted in my physical appearance?” Babs asks, eyebrows raised imperiously behind her dark-rimmed glasses.

“Your worth is the same as these books.” He leans in with a smile. “Priceless.”

“Keep that up and I might just double your late charges.” Barbara flags down a passing employee. “Frank? Could you watch the counter for an hour please? Thank you.”

Leading Dick to a small, worn table in the corner she asks, “So how can I help?”

They sit close, surrounded by high shelves of books, and it feels like just the two of them in the whole world. It feels safe. “I don’t know, I’m just… feeling a little lost, and so of course I came to you.”

She smiles, small and genuine. “Of course you did. Really though, I don’t know anything about raising kids.”

“But you know about people and common sense.”

Tilting her head, she concedes, “True.”

“I feel like– I think I’ve done a pretty good job so far, but Jason still doesn’t trust me.”

“He hasn’t run off yet, right? He must trust you some.”

“I know, but he won’t talk to me.”

“It hasn’t even been two weeks yet, Dickie,” she says, and it’s not gentle or soft. It carries the weight of just how much of an idiot she thinks he’s being. “Be patient.”

“But how patient can I afford to be? If he keeps everything inside, it’ll poison him. With Tim, when he’s upset, he retreats further into himself until I provoke him enough, and then he yells at me about whatever it is that’s bothering him. Not the best system, I know,” he says, holding up a hand. “I still need to figure that one out. But Jason has a lot of pride in the way. He sees himself as self-sufficient because he’s had to be, and he gets uncomfortable when I do anything for him. He only accepts help if you pretty much force it on him, but he also gets scared of anything too forceful.”

“I think all you can do right now is make yourself available and push when you think you can get away with it, but then back off easily. He just needs to know you’re there.”

“He still thinks I’m going to get rid of him the second he does something wrong. He’s still scared of me. I don’t want him to have to be scared all the time.”

“After he does something wrong and you don’t kick him out, maybe he won’t feel that way anymore. You’ll figure this out. I have faith in you. You’ve been dealing with scared and traumatised people for years.”

“Not long-term though. I know when to not touch them, how to make them feel safe, what questions to ask to get information even though they aren’t thinking straight. I think I’ve reached the end of my skill set. This is more than that.”

Barbara hums thoughtfully. “How is Tim dealing with it?”

“Oh god.” Dick rubs his eyes. “Tim’s being… I mean, it could be worse, but honestly I don’t think Tim really understands the situation. He doesn’t get why this is happening, why I’m doing this. He’s having his world changed

again

, and lately when his world changes it’s because of something bad, so I think he’s seeing Jason as something bad. We were just starting to settle into a routine together, and now it’s all different again.”

“Give him time to settle into a new routine and see that Jason isn’t bad.” Babs covers his hand with her own. “You’re doing great, Dick. Already you’ve done more for both of them than anyone else has.”

Dick flips his hand so he can hold hers. It feels like home. “Thanks, Babs.”

“Anytime, Boy Wonder.”

He grins. “It’s Man Wonder now.”

“Is it? The only uniform I’ve seen you in lately is the one with a badge.”

“You’ve been watching me, have you?”

She shrugs, her ponytail swinging loftily behind her. “Batgirl heard chatter about this really cute beat cop that walks Crime Alley. Frankly, she wasn’t too impressed.”

“Ouch.” Dick slaps a hand over his heart.

“So will she not be seeing Nightwing again?”

“Well, as it turns out, when you have a kid or two at home and an actual job, you don’t have time or energy for the vigilante business.”

“Technically, Bruce had those things.”

“It’s different when you’re not willing to bring your kid with you into the line of fire. Also, I don’t think Bruce has actually done any work at WE in years. For now, Nightwing is taking the backseat. Tim and Jason are more important.”

Barbara smiles, squeezing his hand. “Yes, they are. I’m proud of you.”

Dick has known he’s doing the right thing, but to have someone say it, out loud, and for that person to be someone he loves and respects so much… he feels validated. Fortified, like he can get himself and his boys through this.

“Thanks, Babs.”

~

When Dick comes back to pick Jason up, he finds him waiting in the front office, slumped in a chair. “Hey, how’d it go?”

Not taking his eyes off the floor, Jason replies, “Fine, can we go?” and he’s through the door before Dick has a chance to answer.

“Goodbye, Dick!”

“Bye, Susan,” he calls back distractedly as he follows Jason out. In the car, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jason bites out, attention focused on the trees outside, leg bouncing rapidly.

Can he push here? “Jason, remember how I said we need to talk about it when we’re upset? It won’t do you any good to just be mad in your head.”

“I’m not

mad

,” he says angrily, picking at his fingernails. “I’m… There was so much stuff I didn’t know.”

Dick manages to hold back from high-fiving himself. He’s not happy that Jason’s upset, of course, but he’s talking to him about it. This is great. “If you knew everything on the test, there’d be no point for you to go to school, right? We’d just send you off to college.”

Jason shakes his head sharply. “I probably got it all wrong. I dropped out of

fifth grade

, Dick. What if they send me all the way back to elementary school? I’ll be the only teenager there!”

“If that happens, you’ll go and learn really fast and test out. But I don’t think it’s as bad as that. You’re a smart kid, Jason.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m smart,” he argues. “Yeah, I can figure out how to do something on my own, and I can learn fast and remember what you say, but they don’t test that here. They ask about dates and equations and definitions I haven’t learned yet. They don’t care that I can take apart a radio and put it back together, they only care that I don’t know the term for the measurement of the power the radio is using.”

Jason looks like he’s going to shake apart inside his own skin. He actually isn’t angry, Dick realises. The kid is panicking.

“Can you really do that?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool.”

Jason beats his fist against his thigh one, two, three times. “I guess.”

“I know it’s hard, but try to not sweat it too much, okay? We’ll find out how you did tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He’s gazing out the window again, longingly, like he’s two seconds away from jumping out and sprinting down the sidewalk.

Dick needs to try to distract him. “Hey, you wanna go do something fun?”

“Like what?”

Dick grins and throws the car into drive. “Trust me.”

And now Jason looks half of a second away from diving out the door.

Baby steps, Dick berates himself for forgetting. Jason needs to know exactly what’s happening to him. He’s said as much before, and the past two weeks have been filled with unknowns. He doesn’t trust Dick enough to go along with anything, especially when he’s already on the edge.

“I want to take you to a gym.”

Jason frowns. “There’s one in our building. Are we gonna work out?”

“Not that kind of gym. This one is for gymnastics. Are you any good on a trampoline?”

“I haven’t been on a trampoline.”

“Do you want to try? Whenever I’m upset or need a distraction, what works for me is doing backflips into a foam pit.” Or off a skyscraper, but that’s a no-go for Jason.

“Don’t you have something more important to do?”

“This is important.”

Jason does that thing where he curls in on himself, trying to be as small as possible. Like he could somehow disappear and make him forget he exists.

Dick tries a different tactic. “I mean, I was planning on going there anyway, so if you want to tag along I’d be happy to have you. Or I could drive you home and then go by myself.”

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll just go with you.”

Biting back a grin, Dick drives. He switches on the radio and flips around the stations until a fun pop song plays. After that one ends he finds another, and another, keeping the music bright and peppy until they pull up to the gym.

When they walk inside, he’s immediately hit with the smell of feet and foam mats and chalk and sweat. It’s great. He pokes his head inside one of the front offices where a man wearing a t-shirt tucked into his sweatpants is holding up a sparkly leotard with a critical eye.

“Hey, Bobby.”

“Dickie! Hey, what do you think of this?” He turns the leotard around to show the front.

“Looks good. Screams,

winners

.”

Bobby grins. “It does, doesn’t it? My girls are taking state this time.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“So what’s up?” asks Bobby, who drops the sparkly thing back into a box full of others. “Who’s your friend?”

Dick glances beside him, at Jason standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets. “This is Jason. I wanted to show him around. Is there a station free?”

“Let me check…” he grabs a clipboard from his desk and scans the page. “The back half is open until Tilly’s group comes in at three. Right now, we just have the tots, so they’re just taking up the floor.”

“Perfect, thanks. See ya.”

“Yup!”

“Okay,” Dick says excitedly, heading for the big, glass double doors that open to the gymnasium proper. He checks his watch. “We have the pit to ourselves for three hours.”

Just inside is a wall of cubbies where they put their shoes and jackets. There’s a class of toddlers off to the side being taught how to somersault. Dick waves to the instructor as they walk by. They pass the beams, the bars, and the pommel horse. What they want is in the far back corner: the trampoline set into the floor and next to it, the pit filled in with blocks of multi-colored foam.

Dick breaks off into a run, hits the trampoline at full speed and launches himself into the air, flipping a few times and then landing on his back with a soft thud in the foam chunks. It’s not as viscerally satisfying as diving off a rooftop, but he hasn’t had a chance to do that in weeks and this will have to do for now. He looks up at the ceiling high above him, and then over to where Jason is standing at the edge.

Rolling over to the side, he pulls himself out. “You wanna give it a try?”

Apprehensive, Jason glances at the trampoline. “What do I do?”

“Whatever you want. You can just jump around for a while first, get a feel for it.”

“Did you take gymnastics as a kid or something?” Jason asks as he tentatively steps onto the stretchy black surface.

Dick jumps back on too, giving enough room so that his movement won’t disturb Jason and unbalance him; the trampoline is long enough to take up most of the back wall. “I was raised in the circus.”

“Oh, yeah I knew that.” Jason bounces. It’s not surprising that he knows. Most of the city knows about Dick’s past. The papers don’t report on him much any more, but at the time Gothamites loved the story of playboy-turn-philanthropist Bruce Wayne taking in the poor orphaned circus boy. “So I guess you kept at it even after… after you moved in with Bruce.”

“Bruce made sure I kept in practice,” Dick answers neutrally, but part of him is bitter about it. He’s glad he was able to keep that part of his life, but he can’t help but wonder: would Bruce still have helped him learn so much if he hadn’t been Robin? Would he have put in the time if it didn’t benefit himself and his work as Batman?

Jason jumps, then a little higher, and higher.

“Fling yourself into the pit,” Dick suggests. “It’s fun.”

Putting all of his energy into pushing off against the trampoline, Jason throws his body into the air and lands on the foam. He tries to right himself and falls over.

Dick laughs. “You want help?” Sending him a middle finger, Jason continues to struggle his way out.

He watches him flounder around for a minute. “Roll to the side!” he eventually yells.

Jason listens, pulls himself out of the pit and quickly jumps back onto the trampoline, then into the pit again.

They spend the next hour there, Dick practicing his acrobatics and Jason throwing himself around until he’s too tired to keep going, eventually collapsing on a mat, sweaty hair clinging to his face while Dick’s breathing is only slightly labored.

But even slightly is too much; he’s getting soft without nightly patrols– at least, the kind that don’t take place on ground level. Maybe he can go out one night soon when he has work off… It should be fine to slip out after the boys are asleep. Maybe he could call up Batgirl for some company.

“Ready to go?” he asks the wheezing boy on the floor.

“Yeah.” With a grunt Jason heaves himself up to standing. “Do you need to pick up Tim from school?”

“He walks. He only rode with me today because we were going there anyway. Soon, you two will walk to school together!”

Jason frowns but doesn’t say anything, too exhausted to argue.

Well. That’s better than panicking. Right?

~

On Thursday, Dick and Jason are in the vice principal’s office again. Mr. Wheeler taps his fountain pen on the papers in front of him. “It’s a tricky thing. His age would normally put him with the eighth grade class, but his scores on the science, math, and history sections fall below the criteria needed for that. On the other hand, the results of the reading comprehension and writing sections place him in high school.”

“So where does that leave us?” Dick asks.

“My suggestion,” he says, folding his hands neatly in front of him, “is for Jason to join the seventh grade class. He is eligible for the Advanced Placement literature class, and for a short time, he could benefit from tutoring in the other areas.”

“That sounds good.” Dick is pleasantly surprised. Two and a half years out of school and he’s only behind one grade. “You’d be in the same grade as Tim,” he says to Jason. “You could have classes together.”

Jason bites his lip. “I’d need tutoring.”

“I don’t believe it would take long to catch up. He’s a bright boy,” Wheeler tells Dick. “Looking at his work on some of these math questions, it’s clear he was never taught how to solve a problem like this, but he still managed to find the correct answer.”

“Can I see that?” asks Dick, and the vice principal hands over Jason’s test. It’s a mess, and Dick smiles at how he can see Jason’s thought process, working through the problem– a few different ways, and none of them the way that’s taught in school. He smiles– until he sees the red mark over the answer. “Wait, this is marked wrong.”

“Yes.”

“But the answer is right.”

Wheeler explains, “He solved it the wrong way.”

“How is it the wrong way if he got the answer right?”

“The correct answer must be arrived at in the correct way. That’s what we’re looking for: whether he knows

how

to solve the problem. Which he does not.”

Dick blinks at the man in disbelief. “He knows how to solve it. He did it,” he points at the page, “right there.”

Wheeler sighs. “But not in the manner taught according to the curriculum.”

Dick reminds himself that this doesn’t

really

matter and he shouldn’t get angry over this. It’s just a placement test, and Jason’s being placed at a reasonable level. They’ll get him a tutor and Jason will learn the

right way

and it’ll all be fine. Handing the test back and ignoring all of the bullshit he asks, “When can he start?”

“I have the enrollment forms right here for you.” He accepts the folder Wheeler hands over. “It should take no more than a day or two to process him into the system. We should have a schedule ready for him by Monday.”

Dick turns to Jason. “What do you think? Ready to start school after the weekend?”

Jason nods with barely concealed excitement. “I’m ready.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jason isn’t familiar with the Upper West Side. It was too far away for him to walk to from Crime Alley, and he rarely had enough to spend on bus fare, but when he did, it wasn’t worth the trip. There were plenty of car parts to jack in New Town and the Bowery and Burnley. It was stupid to try and go out further than that and have to carry stolen parts all the way back.

It makes him uncomfortable to be in an area he doesn’t know well. Knowing your neighborhood like the back of your hand is vital when you might have to run and hide from the cops with a hot radio in your shaking hands. Not that Jason has to worry about that anymore, but he feels vulnerable on these unfamiliar streets.

Not to mention the fact that he has to have Tim take him shopping because he doesn’t know where anything is. He wishes Dick could have taken him. Well, he really wishes he could go alone, but the next best thing would be just him and Dick. Next best after that would be him and Dick and Tim. And then the last best thing, also known as the worst thing, and, in fact, the current thing: him and Tim alone. It’s the first time they’ve really been alone together. It sucks.

Tim has his headphones on, and the two of them haven’t spoken a word to each other since they left the apartment. Jason follows, weaving through sidewalk traffic, trusting the other boy to know where to go. Eventually, Tim turns into a store and then just kind of waves Jason forward like,

do your thing

.

At least he’s not scowling.

Jason sighs and pushes Tim to the back of his brain. He’s here for school supplies.

What does he need… Pens, paper– a backpack? He didn’t have one before, but they probably use more books and stuff in junior high. He could just carry his books, it’s not a big deal. He doesn’t really need a backpack. But what if it rains? He’ll be walking a few blocks to school and back, so if the weather turns bad his books and assignments could get ruined. So he should get a backpack. Dick will understand why he spent money on one, right?

Before they left the apartment, Dick had just said, “Here’s my credit card, buy whatever you need,” and then he’d gone to bed before Jason could protest or clarify what exactly that meant.

He starts off with the basics: a pen, a spiral notebook, a binder. But how many should he get? Can he fit everything in one binder? It’s not like he’s going to get one for each class, that would be

six

binders. That’s crazy. As much as he would love to have one for each subject, maybe even each with its own color and matching folders inside…

One large binder, stuff to write with and on, and the cheapest backpack on the rack. There. That’s not too much, right?

He turns to Tim, who’s been trailing after him in silence. When he notices Jason’s stopped moving, he glances at the stuff in Jason’s arms.

He pulls down his headphones to rest around his neck and Jason can hear the beat of his music. “Is that it?”

The way he asks, like there’s something wrong, has Jason’s eyebrows pulling down in confusion.

“Yeah? Why… is it too much?”

“What? No, you–” Tim moves past him and starts grabbing things off the shelf. “You’ll need more pens–”

“I got a two-pack.”

“They disappear, man. I’ve already bought like ten so far this semester.”

“I wouldn’t lose my pen,” Jason argues, slightly affronted.

Tim ignores him. “And some pencils and red pens and highlighters–”

“Why do I need highlighters?”

“Sometimes the teachers make you highlight shit.” When Jason looks at him quizzically he just shrugs.

Well. It’s not like Jason doesn’t like highlighters… And Tim says he’ll need them. So that’s fine. He brushes aside the pack Tim grabbed (all yellow) in favor of the one with blue and pink and yellow after checking that it’s the same price.

“And one of these,” Tim continues, handing him a black ruler. Jason switches it out for the green one that matches his binder. “Okay, I think that’s all we need to get you in this aisle.”

“What else are we getting?”

“Clothes.”

“I don’t need clothes.”

“Yes, you do,” Tim answers, eyes going from Dick’s old jacket to the motor oil stains on Jason’s jeans. Jason frowns. “Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole, but you really could use some new stuff. What you have only fills up like one drawer in the dresser.”

“I don’t wanna spend too much, Dick–”

“Dick would want you to get new clothes. He said to get what you need. He probably assumed you knew what that meant.”

“Just leave it,” Jason snaps. “I’m fine.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.” Even though the past twenty minutes scream otherwise.

“You don’t

want

to need my help,” Tim argues. “I don’t get why this is such a problem, I’m telling you it’s fine. Do you think I’m lying just to get you in trouble? You’re acting like Dick is going to beat the shit out of you for–” he stops. “Oh.”

Jason feels like he’s burning from the inside out, angry and embarrassed but there’s no reason for it. He’s not doing anything wrong, he’s just being cautious. It’d be stupid to not be careful around someone he doesn’t know.

And yes, some part of his brain is reminding him that Dick is

good

, and has only been helpful, and hasn’t touched him at all. But another part of his brain is insisting that he doesn't

really know

anything.

“Dick would never hurt you,” Tim says angrily. “He’s done nothing but help you, he took you off the street, and this is how you think of him? Why don’t you try being fucking grateful instead of acting like he’s a terrible person?”

Jason swallows roughly. “I don’t think he’s a terrible person–”

“But you expect him to start hitting you. Newsflash: that’s what terrible people do. Not what people who give you a home do.”

“My dad gave me a home too. That didn’t make him a good person, or stop him from–” Jason’s voice catches in his throat. He feels so, so vulnerable, so exposed. Tim doesn’t need to know that. Tim doesn’t need to know anything, he should just mind his own business.

“Your dad worked for Two-Face, I think we can agree he had some issues.”

“Shut up!” Jason yells.

He doesn’t. “Dick doesn’t deserve you thinking about him like that. He’s the best person in the world and if you can’t see that–”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” says a man with a name tag announcing him a manager. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Jason moves to put away the supplies he’s holding but Tim says, “We’ll leave after we buy what we came for,” somehow looking down on the man who’s far taller and older.

The man presses his lips together in a tight line, but relents. “If you do so

quietly

.”

“Fine. Come on,” he tells Jason without even glancing in his direction, “we’re getting you new shoes at least.”

And Jason– can’t argue with that one. He does need new shoes. His current pair of sneakers are too small and his sock can be seen through a hole in the toe.

Tim slides his headphones back into place while Jason debates over which shoes to get. God, shoes are expensive. But he’s gonna be wearing them every day, so it’s… fine. It’s fine.

It’s

fine.

Tim said so.

Jason grabs a pair of boots one size up. They’ll last for a while.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Tim doesn’t acknowledge him, but walks to the check-out line. When it’s their turn, Jason can’t help but stare at the total, guilt and regret eating through him. He pulls Dick’s credit card out of his pocket and hesitates long enough that Tim snatches it out of his hand to swipe it himself.

They walk home and Jason nervously waits for Dick to wake up. He doesn’t have much to do to kill the time. They just moved in, so the apartment hasn’t had a chance to really get dirty yet, and it takes less than twenty minutes to clean. He goes to the kitchen in hopes of cooking dinner, but there’s only things that don’t require much cooking: frozen dinners and boxes of mac and cheese. Tim does his homework, but Jason doesn’t have homework yet. He makes a mental note to track down the nearest library as soon as he can.

In the evening when Dick comes out of his bedroom, tucking in his uniform shirt, he walks over to where Jason is sitting on the couch watching TV. “So what’d you get?” he asks.

Jason shows him, everything still in the bag with tags on just in case they need to be returned.

“Is that it?” Dick asks, the same way Tim had earlier. “Are you sure that’s all you need? I thought maybe you’d get a pair of jeans or something.”

Jason can feel Tim’s eyes on him from the kitchen, homework spread out of the table in front of him.

“But hey, I like your boots,” Dick says, picking them up. “Those are nice. You still have my card?”

“No, I– Tim has it.”

“Okay, well if you decide you want to get anything else, just go ahead.” Dick buckles his belt into place and walks over to ruffle Tim’s hair, which earns him a swatted protest. He grabs his jacket (the one he’d let Jason wear that first night) from a hook on the wall and his keys from a bowl near the door. “You two be good, I’ll see you in the morning.”

After he’s gone, there’s a brief silence and then Tim says, “Told you.”

~

Tomorrow is his first day of school. He has to do well. He has to.

Dick had said the house rules were to pass their classes, no drinking, no drugs, no smoking.

Jason had excused himself that one smoke when he said goodbye to Crime Alley because technically he wasn’t in the house… but he doesn’t have that excuse now as he slips out the sliding glass door onto the balcony and lights up one of his few remaining cigarettes. He feels a little bad, but Dick isn’t there and Tim is asleep and no one will know. And he’s stressing out because tomorrow is his first day of school and

he has to do well.

The paper and tobacco crackle softly over the sounds of the city below. He breathes out a cloud of white smoke into the night air and doesn't really feel much better for it. Or, he might if he didn't feel guilty about smoking in the first place. Dick has barely asked for anything, and he's given so much. Jason still doesn't understand why– why a stranger would do all of this, for him of all people. Dick should have found someone that actually deserves it. Someone that's able to appreciate it, instead of repaying his generosity with distrust.

Jason wants to appreciate it. And he does, for the most part, but there's always that part of him that expects everything to be taken away. That expects to be abandoned or abused.

He flicks his butt over the railing, but doesn't go inside right away. It's a cold night and his hands are shaking but those two things aren't related. He doesn't believe Dick will do that to him, not

really

, not anymore, but. He just… can't. Can't give more trust than he already has. Not yet. Tim may not think it's enough, and maybe it isn't, but it's all he can do.

That, and get good grades. So he’ll do well in school. He

has to

.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

They walk to school together, Tim listening to music and Jason memorising the route.
Tim leaves him once they’re inside, and Jason stops by the front office to pick up his class schedule and textbooks. It takes a while to hunt down his locker, and then to get the hang of opening the combination lock. He drops off the books he won’t need until later, then wanders around trying to find his first class.
Finally, he finds the right room number shortly after the bell rings. When he walks in, the chatter in the room dies as all of the kids look at him.
“You must be the new student,” the teacher says, walking over to stand next to him. She puts a hand on his shoulder and Jason tries to cover his flinch. She’s too close and he fights to not step away. “I’m Miss Anderson. Everyone, this is Jason Todd, Tim’s brother.”“He’s not my brother,” comes an annoyed voice from the back of the room. Jason looks, and there’s Tim, scowling.
Miss Anderson glances between them, confused. “Oh? But Susan said…”“I’m just… living with him,” Jason tells her. “We’re not brothers.”
“Oh, well then I’m sorry. Class, this is Jason.”
Everyone stares at him. He feels like a bug under glass at some weird exhibit and wants to hold his binder in front of himself like a shield. A couple of the girls smile.
Miss Anderson says, “There’s an empty desk in the back by Tim, you can sit next to him,” like it’s something he should be happy about.
Jason walks down the row, kids watching as he passes, until he gets to the open seat on Tim’s right. And this is just great, isn’t it? Because they’re not forced to spend enough time together already.
It’s not even that he hates Tim– he doesn’t; Tim has been helpful, even when he’s being a bitch about it. It’s the forced proximity. He hasn’t spent this much time with one person since his mom died, and even then she wasn’t… a very active participant in their interactions. Drugs tend to do that to a person. But now he has either Dick or Tim, or both, around him at all times, and it’s starting to grate on his nerves.
“We're going to start off with a worksheet today,” Miss Anderson announces, handing small stacks of papers to the kids in the front row, who pass the rest back. The boy in front of him tosses the last paper carelessly over his shoulder and it falls onto the floor.
Jason reaches down to pick it up. Miss Anderson turns on a TV in the front corner of the classroom. “Justine, lights?”A girl with a red ponytail nearest the door reaches over to turn off the lights.
They're watching a movie? In class? Jason looks down at the paper on his scratched desk, wondering what he’s supposed to do with it.The teacher sits and grabs a diet coke from the mini fridge next to her desk, cracking it open with a fizzly snap.A documentary plays. The intro is ambiguous, shots of nature and lava and glaciers. Jason can’t tell what it’s about. The paper in front of him says Colliding Continents on the top.
The only light in the room is the glow from the TV and Miss Anderson's phone as she clicks away.
Stretching across the corner of her desk, Miss Anderson asks, “Laura, what does it mean if a guy says he had a good time last night? Is that just something people say to be nice, like code for I never want to see you again?”
Laura sits forward eagerly. “What were his exact words?”Jason reads through the worksheet. It’s a series of statements with one or two key words blanked out. They’re probably sentences taken directly from the documentary, right? So he just has to wait and listen for them to get the missing words. He frowns. This is… really easy. That can’t be all there is to it. But maybe taking notes like this helps students remember the information better.
“He said, ‘I had a really good time with you last night, Courtney’.”

…Giant land masses that stabilize the environment…

Laura gasps. “He said a really good time and your name? He totally likes you, Miss A.”“You think?” Miss Anderson smiles.
Tim leans over to whisper, “Can I borrow a pen?”“Are you serious?” Jason asks.
“I don’t have one.” …The geological future of New York is going to be rather traumatic…
“We were at the store two days ago,” Jason points out. “Why didn’t you get one for yourself?”“I didn’t need to, I had one two days ago.”“And?”“I told you, they disappear.”“Boys,” Miss Anderson says over the movie, “I’m sure you’re happy to be together, but please pay attention.” She turns back to Laura. “Are you sure? Because I kind of got the feeling he wasn’t enjoying dinner…”

“Yes ma'am,” Jason says, even though she isn’t paying attention anymore. He fishes out his spare pen and slaps it on Tim's desk.
“Well, what did you two do after dinner?” asks Laura.

…This incredible remodeling is just part of a natural cycle that has shaped the earth for the last four billion years…

There! That’s the same as the second statement on the page. What’s missing was… four billion. Got it!
“We, um. Just…” Miss Anderson coughs. “Nothing. Nothing happened after dinner.”
Wait. That’s the second one… he missed the first!
Softly, Jason asks Tim, “Did you catch the first one? I missed it.”
“‘The world as we know it will be unrecognisable’,” Tim recites.
Jason writes in the word unrecognisable . How will that help him study? Will that actually be a question on a test?
“Thanks.”“Jason and Tim!” His head snaps up to where Miss Anderson is staring at them, lips pursed. A few of the other kids are looking too. “Do I need to seperate you boys?”
“N-no,” he says. It’s your fault , Jason wants to scream. He couldn’t hear the narrator over her conversation. But more than angry, he’s scared. He can’t get in trouble, especially not on the first day, in his first class . Not that he wouldn’t mind being separated from Tim, but it would be a punishment , because he did something bad . “Sorry.”
“I’ll let it go since it’s your first day, but don’t make a habit of it.”
Jason just nods. Some of the kids are still watching. He feels like crawling under his desk. Or smashing the desk into pieces.
“I don’t know, Miss A, but it sounds like he wants to go out with you again.”
“I hope so,” Miss Anderson sighs. “He’s so cute, and he actually has a job .”
…Where Earth got its water has been a confrontational topic over the years…

Jason fills in the word water .When the documentary is over, Justine flips the lights back on. The kid in front of Jason is asleep, head cradled on his arms.
“Okay, let’s check your answers. Get out a red pen.” Miss Anderson reads off the ten words they should have written down. Jason notices a few of the students, including Laura, writing in the right answers in pencil as she lists them. Miss Anderson doesn’t look up until she’s finished. “Put your grade at the top and pass them to the front.”
Jason writes a 100%. His first grade. It’s good, right? He’s starting out with a perfect grade, that should be… good. He just doesn’t feel like he did much for it.
He hands the red pen over to Tim before he can ask.
When the bell rings, he walks out of the classroom feeling a little disoriented. He just finished his first junior high class and it… wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
Next on his schedule is AP English, which Jason is actually excited about. The vice principal had said he scored pretty high on that part of the test. Jason hadn’t known all of the terms, like what a conjunctive adverb was, but he knows how sentences are supposed to look– he knows when they’re wrong and how to fix them.
He’s spent most of the past few years at the public library, reading every book he could. The library is free, and a relatively safe place, even in his old neighborhood. He had a lot of free time, especially after he didn’t have his mom to take care of anymore. Not much else for a street kid to do that doesn’t involve hurting people. Books became an escape for him, both physically and mentally, and he’s looking forward to being able to talk about them with other kids who love them too.
He introduces himself to Mrs. Chapman, (well into her sixties and still wearing bright blue eyeshadow) and then takes the empty desk she points out in the corner. He has a feeling he’s going to be stuck in the back for all of his classes.
The bell rings.
Mrs. Chapman doesn’t glance up from grading papers. The other kids chat and do homework and Jason sits there, waiting.
The girl in the next seat turns to him. “Hi.”“Hey,” Jason answers, awkward but hopeful.
“I’m Heather.”“Jason.”“Yeah, I know. I heard you’re living with Tim Drake,” she says, eyes lighting up at his name.
He nods, surprised at how fast the news travelled.
Heather leans in. “What’s he like?”Jason’s heart sinks a little. She’s only interested in Tim. He answers, “Messy,” and Heather considers that.“Jayden, come to my desk,” Mrs. Chapman calls. After a moment, “ Jayden! ”Jason notices no one is moving to answer her, and a few kids are looking at him. Heather whispers, “I think she means you.”Warily, Jason stands and shuffles up the down the row. “Um, did you mean me?”“Of course I did, there aren’t any other Jaydens in this class.”“My name is Jason, ma’am.”“Well Jason or Jayden, I expect you to answer promptly when I call for you.” Before he can respond, she asks, “Did you come to my class prepared?”“I– I think so?” He has everything Tim said he’d need…
“Are you certain of that?” she asks imperiously. There’s hot pink lipstick smeared in the corner of her lips. “I don’t see a copy of The Old Man and the Sea on your desk.”
“Um, I didn’t know I was supposed to have one.”She levels him a severe look. “I do not appreciate being lied to, Jasper. I know the office gives a list of needed supplies to new students.”A black hole of panic grows in the center of his ribcage. He stammers, “I’m not– I didn’t get any list,” and his voice is not politely soft but fearfully frail.

Mrs. Chapman stares him down and he tries to look like he’s not lying, which shouldn’t be hard because he really isn’t lying, but for some reason he feels like his face and the way he’s standing is coming off as suspicious. “Very well. Follow along as best as you can in today’s discussion, and have a copy of your own by tomorrow.”“I’ve already read it,” he tells her.
He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it’s not for her to frown. “Don’t think you can go ahead of the rest of the students, everyone needs to learn at the same pace. I still expect you to procure a fresh copy. At the end of every week, the books are turned in so I can check that you have been highlighting and annotating. Now sit down so we may begin the lesson.”
Jason goes back and wraps his hands around the cold metal bars that make the legs of his desk, squeezing hard. He has trouble paying attention to the discussion. This was what he wanted, to talk about books, but he can’t concentrate through the frustration building inside him, howling so hard that he can hear it between his ears. He snaps into focus when Mrs. Chapman says, “Jared, please read the next passage.”When no one else speaks up, he assumes that’s supposed to be him. Carefully he reminds her, “I don’t have the book.”
“I’m sure one of your neighbors would be happy to lend you theirs.”He turns to Heather. “Um. Can I?”
She hands it over. Jason flips through the pages and looks at Heather questioningly, but she shrugs in apology. He clears his throat. “What, uh. Which part should I read?”
“You would know if you had been paying attention,” Mrs. Chapman answers, and then she just stares at him for a long moment, the room silent, while Jason tries not to lose his breakfast all over the carpet. “Page twelve, paragraph two.”
He doesn’t remember ever reading out loud before, especially not in front of people. He mumbles his way through it. His voice shakes. He wants to die. Or, not die , exactly, but just not be here .
His voice cracks over the last word.Someone laughs.Never mind, he wants to die.
For the last twenty minutes, he wraps his arms around his middle and barely keeps himself from rocking back and forth. His legs bounce wildly though, he can’t stop that.
When the bell rings mercifully, he books it out of the room and into the nearest bathroom. He splashes water in his face to cool down and rinse away the sweat gathered along his hairline, drying off with thin, rough paper towels.
Next is math. He’s starting to get a sense of how the classroom numbers run, and it’s easier to find the right room. Introduction, desk in the back, wait.
As the rest of the students file in, Mrs. Tran approaches, setting some worksheets on his desk. “Here is the homework everyone else will be turning in today. For you, it’s due tomorrow before the start of class.”Jason takes the papers and looks them over. Circumference… radius… area of a circle… He looks up at her. “I haven’t learned this yet.”“You need to learn it tonight, there’s a test over it tomorrow.”“I don’t know how to do any of this.”“Best way to learn something is to practice,” she says, waving at the homework.“But… if I haven’t learned it, how can I do the homework?”
Mrs. Tran presses her lips together tightly. “Open a textbook. You’re in middle school, it’s time for you to learn to do things on your own. It’s not my job to walk you through everything.”Jason almost points out that that literally is her job, but bites his tongue. Almost bites through his tongue.
She continues, “The test was scheduled for today. I was nice enough to postpone it and give you a day to catch up, but the rest of the students can’t wait around for you forever. We’re moving on.”She teaches them about the pythagorean theorem and he could probably understand if it didn’t feel like his brain is too big for his head, like his blood is boiling.The feeling gets worse in P.E. He can’t breathe right, and it’s not from the mile he’s running around the school grounds. At least, it shouldn’t be, not from the exertion. He can run a mile– he can run two or three miles while carrying a car exhaust. But every step is compounding the rattle inside him that made him bounce his legs, the energy being multiplied each time his foot slaps the pavement, and it feeds the black hole in his chest until he can feel it pumping through his fingers and toes and behind his eyes. It’s similar to when Dick took him to the gym, only so much worse and this isn’t enough to exhaust him, which is what had saved him last time.
He runs along with the other boys in silence as they move in groups of twos and threes, talking, their voices and the pounding of their shoes creating a cloud of white noise for Jason to focus on. It only helps a little though.
After the run, the coach sends them to the locker room, yells at them to shower up. Jason pulls off the standard issue cotton shorts and t-shirt Mr. Shaw had tossed at him and approaches the showers with a towel wrapped around his waist. Some of the other boys are already in there. Jason keeps his eyes up and hangs his towel on a hook, then steps under the spray.
He has never felt so vulnerable. Even the first night at Bruce Wayne’s manor, as scared as he’s ever been, he had his taser and a locked door to hide behind. He wishes he had his taser now, just to have it nearby. But he knew better than to try and bring it to school. If he got caught with that, they’d probably never let him back in.
But now Jason is naked and scrawny and boney and small in a room full of other naked boys and he hates this, hates this. He washes as fast as he possibly can, both keeping an eye out for attack and avoiding actually looking at anyone.Back in his own clothes, Jason hurries to the cafeteria for his lunch period. He doesn’t think he can stomach any food right now, but he also feels like he’ll collapse if he doesn’t eat. It’s strange, he’s gone far longer without food and never felt so weak. But he uses the money Dick had given him that morning to buy an apple, bypassing the hot food that makes his stomach churn just by looking at it.Looking out at the dozens of long tables and the mass of kids sitting on the benches, he spots Tim already settled in with his own lunch, and heads straight for him because yeah, he’s tired of Tim’s stupid judgemental face, but at least it’s a familiar stupid judgemental face, unlike all the others here.

Tim is sitting with a blonde kid wearing glasses.
“You didn’t tell me you had another brother,” his friend is saying.
“Shut up, Ives. He’s not my brother.”“Ease up man, I was just joking. Hey, Jason!” the blonde guy says, smiling. “Come sit with us.”Jason does, sliding onto the bench beside Tim. He would go sit on the other side next to the blond kid instead, but that would mean walking all the way down and around, and he is petty enough to do that, but his knees are wobbling. The room is too loud, so many voices talking over each other at once. “How do you know who I am?”“Everyone knows about the new kid.” As if to confirm this, the girls at the next table start whispering to each other, taking not-so-sneaky glances over at Jason. “Hi! I’m Ives, Sebastian Ives.”“Oh, um. Jason. Todd.”
“And I’m Tim Drake.” Tim rolls his eyes, shoving a piece of pizza in his mouth. Jason can’t watch. Even the smell of the pizza is making it hard for him to convince himself to eat the apple he’s rolling between his sweaty palms.
“So, Jason, how was–” Ives is cut off by another voice.
“Yo, Jason!”His eyes dart toward the sound coming from behind Ives, and there’s the boy Officer Lin was dragging along when she talked to him and Dick in the parking lot. Freddy.
Tim shoots Jason a quizzical look.
“Uh, hi.”
Freddy saunters over to stand next to their table, leaning his forearm on Ives’ shoulder, who frowns up at him. “Sup?”“N-nothing?” Jason doesn’t know why this kid is talking to him. He’d seemed completely uninterested last week.
“I just wanted to know how you’re fitting in,” Freddy says, and it’s casual, but there’s something in his voice that has Jason tensing, even more than he has been all morning.
“Fine,” he answers, hoping Freddy will go away.
He doesn’t.
“My mom told me to check in on you and make you feel welcome.” Freddy rolls his eyes. Jason has seen a lot of eye rolling recently from Tim, but it’s really ugly when this kid does it. “You know, since you’re not from this neighborhood.”Jason freezes. His nails dig into the fruit in his hands, juice running down his fingers.Whatever is coming, Tim must sense it too. “Lin,” he warns, voice hard.
“She works at the precinct with that guy you’re living with. Told me how you got picked up in Crime Alley,” Freddy says loudly, loud enough for all of the kids nearby to hear, to stop and watch. “She said he found you whoring yourself out on the corner.”
And here it is: the point at which Jason’s body finally snaps and betrays him. His insides have been shaking themselves apart all day, ratcheting up and up and now they explode.
He leans to the side and throws up on the tile floor.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It’s silent but for Jason’s sputtering coughs and raspy breaths.
Tim sets a gentle hand on his back, feeling the muscles over his ribs spasm. He’s confused, surprised at Jason’s reaction, but more than that he’s angry. His eyes are far from gentle as he glares down Freddy Lin, who stands there staring at Jason, face morphing into disgust.“Ives,” Tim says with all the calm he can muster, “take Jason to the nurse’s office.”
Ives jumps up and rounds the lunch table. When he reaches Jason, he holds out a handful of napkins and says softly, “Here, man. Let’s go.”
Jason’s whole body is shaking as he wipes his mouth and allows Ives to help him off the bench, Tim’s hand slipping from his shirt as he goes.
He’s seen people act like this a couple of times, when he was Robin– people who had been nearly killed by mobsters or pulled from a building just before it exploded. Bruce had taught him about trauma victims and how to handle them until the paramedics or cops get there to take care of them… But was what Freddy said really so traumatic? Yeah, it’s probably the worst thing that could have been shouted out in front of everyone– socially this is a nightmare for Jason– but he didn’t think Jason would care so much about something like that, or have such an immediate, violent reaction.
Although, now that he thinks about it, Jason had seemed rattled when he first sat down. Maybe he was already anxious, and Freddy just pushed him over the edge. He must have been really upset already, stressing out hard, and Tim hadn’t even noticed. Or… maybe he just didn’t really care.But seeing this , all because of a few words, makes him care.
What happened? Jason’s been so excited for school, much more than any kid really should be, in Tim’s opinion, but it seems like he hasn’t had the best start. No one said anything to him in first period, aside from Miss Anderson. And that had been when she scolded them, which...Jason had reacted the exact same way he does when he thinks Dick is mad at him. He doesn’t seem to care when Tim is mad, but Dick, and Miss Anderson… They’re adults. Authority figures.
Had other teachers gotten mad at him too?
Ives and Jason aren’t even out of the cafeteria before conversation picks up again, all of the students asking each other what happened, who was that guy, was what Freddy said true...Freddy looks around in satisfaction at the attention he’s gotten. “Yeah, that’s right. The new kid’s a whore. What’d he do?” he asks Tim with a sneer. “Offer himself up for a hot meal? Is that why Grayson took him in?”Tim stands, fists clenched at his sides. “Shut your fucking mouth, Lin.”Freddy gives him a nasty look. “That why he took you in too?”In a flash, Tim reaches out, grabs Freddy Lin by the shirt, and slams him down onto the table, the back of his head landing in someone’s mashed potatoes.
Tim climbs on top of him. Freddy struggles but he has his lower half pinned and Freddy’s wrists in a tight grip with his arms crossed over his stomach.
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he growls.
“I know what my mom told me.” Freddy somehow manages to look smug in spite of being held down in front of everyone with chocolate milk staining his sleeves. “That part’s true– your new brother’s a whore.”
“ Shut up! ”“He try anything on you yet? You gotta be careful, he’s probably full of–”
Tim punches Freddy Lin, right in his face.
He’s a little surprised at himself. He has never hit anyone (outside of fighting bad guys) and always promised himself he wouldn’t. Dick had agreed to keep training him for self-defense only . This isn’t self-defense. This is Tim losing his temper. This isn’t even a fight, it’s him using his advantage over someone, some kid with no training. He told himself not to do this.He doesn’t feel even a little bit bad about it.“What’s going on here?” comes a shout, and Coach Shaw pushes his way through the group of kids that have gathered around to watch. He barks, “Drake!” and pulls him off of Freddy.
Tim lets him.
“What happened?” Mr. Shaw demands, helping Freddy sit up and climb off the table.

Freddy’s voice comes out nasally, muffled by his hands as he holds his bleeding nose. “I was just talking to the new kid and he freaked out and ran away, then Drake attacked me.”“Todd is involved in this?” Coach asks. “Where is he?”“Ives took him to Mrs. Nash,” Tim answers. “But he didn’t do anything.”“We’ll see about that.”
Mr. Shaw marches them both to the nurse’s office, opening the door with, “Got a bloody nose, Carol,” by way of greeting.
The nurse sits Freddy down on one of the three plastic chairs lined up along the wall and tries to staunch the bleeding. In the back there’s a small exam table occupied by Jason, who’s lying with his back to the room, still trembling. Ives is perched on the table by his legs. He glances from Freddy to Tim with wide eyes, then leans down to whisper something. Jason doesn’t move.
“Get back to lunch, Ives,” Mr. Shaw says.
Ives gives Jason a small pat on the shoulder and leaves.
Tim moves to check on him, but Mr. Shaw snaps, “Sit down, Drake.”“But–”“You’re on thin ice already, kid. I don’t wanna hear another word.”So he sits, quietly fuming, watching Jason’s back while Mrs. Nash patches up Freddy’s nose. He needs to see if Jason is okay, or at least sit next to him.
“What’s wrong with that one?” Coach asks, nodding toward Jason.Mrs. Nash replies, “I’m not sure. Maybe food poisoning.”
“He’s not hurt or anything?”“Not that I saw.”
It’s not food poisoning, Tim wants to say. It’s trauma, it’s stress, it’s anxiety and panic. But they don’t need to know that. Mrs. Nash wouldn’t know what to do, probably just tell him to rest until he feels better and then go back to class. Jason doesn’t need to go back to class, he needs to get out of here. He needs to go home, to a safe place.
Is the apartment a safe place for him?Tim bites his lip. It might not be.
But Dick will come soon and take him home. It’ll be okay.When she’s done with Freddy, she checks Tim’s hand– uninjured, he knows how to throw a punch– and Mr. Shaw leads them both out and down the hall to the front office, depositing them in the chairs next to the receptionist’s desk while he goes to report to the principal.
From behind the desk, Miss Park smiles at Tim. “Hey, how’s Dick doing?”He ignores her question. “He’s not my brother.”
“Excuse me?”“You told Miss Anderson Jason is my brother. He’s not.”
Beside him, Freddy Lin snorts, and then grimaces in pain, gingerly touching his new bandage.
“O-oh, I just assumed…” she trails off at Tim’s flat look. “Sorry.”
Wheeler walks out of his office with Mr. Shaw in tow. “Thank you, Daniel. You can head back to your class now. Susan, please call these boys’ parents and tell them to come in right away.”
The bell rings overhead. Tim should be going to Spanish, but instead he’s stuck here listening to Freddy Lin’s mouth-breathing.
Dick shows up first. He goes straight to Tim, quickly scanning him for signs of injury, eyes lingering briefly on his reddened knuckles. “Are you okay?”“Yeah.”“And Jason?”“He’s with the nurse. Dick, he needs to go home.”Wheeler pokes his head out. “Ah, Mr. Grayson. Please, come into my office.”“Sorry, I need to check on Jason first.” He’s already on his way out.
“You need a visitors’ pass!” Miss Park calls after him, but he doesn’t stop.
A woman who Tim assumes is Freddy Lin’s mom rushes in a few minutes later. “Freddy! Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?” She crouches in front of her son, closely inspecting his swollen face, then glances over at Tim. “Did you do this?”
He nods.
Her nostrils flare and eyebrows pull down angrily. “Do you realise I’m a police officer? I could press charges!”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Kelly.”
Mrs. Lin turns around. “Grayson? What are you doing here?”Dick walks over, sets a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “This is Tim.”“This is… Oh.” She sighs, deflating into something a little less rage-filled. “Hi, Tim.”
“Why don’t we discuss this in my office?” Mr. Wheeler says, and everyone files inside and sits down.
“Is he okay?” Tim asks Dick quietly.“I don’t know, he wouldn’t talk to me.”Wheeler leans back in his high-backed chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “It seems we have a bit of a situation.”“What happened?” Mrs. Lin asks.
“What happened is Drake punched me!” Freddy yells. “He threw me down on the table and attacked me! He’s fucking crazy!”“Language,” his mom scolds distractedly. She looks at Tim. “Is this true?”Mr. Wheeler answers, “One of our teachers had to pull Tim off of him. This is a very serious offense, Mr. Grayson. We have a zero-tolerance policy here. I’m afraid Tim will have to be suspended. Two weeks.”“ Suspended? Wait a second,” Dick says. “Has anyone even asked why he hit him?” When Wheeler remains silent Dick adds, “Does that even matter to you? Tim, tell us what happened.”
In a clear, even voice he tells them. “Freddy called Jason a whore in front of everyone, and then said the reason you took both of us in is to fuck us.”Three sets of stunned eyes stare at him for a long moment.
Then Mrs. Lin snaps her head around to look at her son, who’s slouched defensively low in his seat. “What?” she shrieks. “Why would you say that?”“That’s what you said!” Freddy shoots back. “You told me he was a prostitute!”“Oh my god,” she groans miserably, covering her face with one hand. “Oh god, I… The part about Dick– I never said anything like that. Where the hell did you get that from?”
Freddy shrugs petulantly.
“I’m so sorry , Grayson. I told him– I just wanted him to help Jason get acclimated and feel welcome. I had no idea he would do something like this. This is horrifying .”
“So it’s true?” Wheeler asks.
Dick’s jaw muscles jump, clenching. “I don’t see how that’s important. But Jason never solicited sex, no.”
Tim notices his careful wording– leaving out the fact that just because he didn’t succeed doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.
“Obviously he comes from… a colorful past,” Wheeler says. “You assured me it wouldn’t be an issue. Here it’s only been half a day and we already have a fight.”
Tim speaks up. “That wasn’t Jason’s fault. He didn’t do anything. He wasn’t even there when the fight started.”“He was the cause–”“ He was the cause,” he argues, throwing an accusing finger at Freddy Lin.
“Nevertheless,” Wheeler continues, “he is a disruptive presence. I’ve consulted some of his teachers and they say he’s been a distraction, not paying attention, unprepared, talking back.”A current of adrenaline and frustration has been racing through him for the past forty-five minutes and it’s building again. He wants to hit something again. “This isn’t about Jason! I’m the one who hit Freddy and Freddy is the one that announced to the entire seventh grade that he was a predatory whore from Crime Alley, which I think is at least as damaging as a punch to the face, seeing as it upset Jason so much that he threw up.”“He did?” Dick asks.“Yeah, that’s why he wasn’t there when the fight started; I had Ives take him to the nurse. He was really shaken up.”Dick settles his hard stare onto the vice principal. “Well? Is Freddy suspended too?”
“No. Tim is the one that got violent.”“How can what he said not matter?” Dick demands.“It simply doesn’t fall under the purview of what we consider to be bullying. Frankly, kids say a lot of things, Mr. Grayson.”“Do they say you’re an incompetent asshole?” Tim asks, laying a trap, which Wheeler falls neatly into.
“Watch it, young man, or I’ll add another week to your suspension.”Tim nearly jumps from his chair. “When I say something rude to you, I get a week of suspension but what Freddy said doesn’t get him any punishment? Do you not see how fucked up that is?”
“I agree,” Mrs. Lin says.
“What?” Freddy whines. “Mom!”
“You be quiet! It sounds to me like you gave this poor boy a panic attack when he was already having trouble adjusting to everything. He’s been through a lot, and you just went and aired it out to the whole school. I’m so disappointed in you right now.” She then turns on Wheeler. “Freddy’s punishment should match Tim’s.”“Very well,” he says reluctantly, like he doesn’t want to agree to something that’s not his idea. “As for Jason, I have to wonder if this is the best-suited environment for him. Maybe you should reconsider, Mr. Grayson, whether or not he is ready to be a student here.”
He’s not, Tim thinks, but not for the same reasons that Wheeler is thinking. Wheeler doesn’t know everything Jason’s been through in the past few weeks, in the past few years. He’s a victim of abuse and neglect, thrust into a totally new life he doesn’t understand with new people, in a new place. He’s scared and confused.
Tim can practically feel the light bulb of dawning realisation.
He feels like an idiot.
Like he told Wheeler, this isn’t Jason’s fault. There are a lot of things that aren’t Jason’s fault, like being born where he was and having the parents he had. Like having to do the things he did to survive; Tim had been thinking Jason should have found another way, but what other way was there? It’s not his fault Dick found him and wanted to help, and of course he wasn’t going to turn down a chance to get away from Crime Alley.
Tim hates that Jason is living with them– would much rather it just be him and Dick– but that does not mean he wants Jason to go back to where he was and doing what he did. Yeah, Jason moving in with them has changed his life around again, but the other boy isn’t the one to get mad at about that.Jason had gotten so upset in the cafeteria, to the point of sickness. Has he been that anxious this whole time? And Tim thought he’d been helping him out by going shopping together and assuring him Dick is a good person.
But now he realises it probably wasn’t enough.
In fact, he probably made things worse. He’s only been thinking about how his own life has been inconvenienced by all of this. He never really thought about what it’s been like for Jason.
“I won’t reconsider anything until I’ve talked with Jason,” Dick replies. Now I think we’re done here. I’m taking both of the boys home,” he says with finality, standing.
In the main office, Mrs. Lin stops Dick with a hand on his arm. “Dick, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all of this. Really, I–”
Dick’s face is hard set. “I’d like to say it’s okay, Kelly, but it’s really not. You put Jason in danger and I don’t think I can forgive that. All I’ve been trying to do is keep him safe, and–” he huffs a sound like an angry animal, but lowers his voice. “I’ll talk to you later. Right now I need to get Jason.”
Tim follows him out and down the hall, trying to stay as unobtrusive as possible.
When Dick opens the door to the nurse’s office, he pauses and looks around. “Where is Jason?”“I sent him back to class,” Mrs. Nash answers.
His hand tightens dangerously on the doorknob. “You what? ”“He said he was feeling better.”Dick is turning around almost before she’s even stopped talking, storming back the way they came and Tim nearly has to run to keep up with him.
“Where is Jason right now?” he demands of Miss Park, the office door still swinging under the force of being slammed open that hard.
“W-what? I don’t–”
“Pull up his class schedule and tell me where to find him!” he yells.She hurries to comply, and Tim feels a little bad that she’s experiencing the brunt of Dick’s anger at this moment. He’s furious, and Dick is terrifying when he’s furious.
“He has Spanish with Mr. Fairfield, room number–”“I’m on it,” Tim says and runs out. He knows exactly where it is. It’s where he was supposed to be right now. He and Jason could have gone to class together, if lunch hadn’t been such a shit-show.
Swinging open the door to Mr. Fairfield’s room, he pokes his head inside. He doesn’t see Jason among the students, so he turns to the startled teacher staring at him with his hand frozen against the chalkboard. “Sir? Have you seen Jason Todd?”
Mr. Fairfield frowns. “Is that a student?”“Yeah,” he answers impatiently. “He’s supposed to be in this class.”“He’s not here. Surely you’re meant to be in class, too. What are you doing running around–” The end of his question is cut off by the door slamming shut, and Tim is already hurrying down the hall.Where did he go? Would he have left the school?Tim wanders around, checking empty rooms and bathrooms. Nothing. No one. But then he passes by the school library.On a hunch, he ducks inside. The librarian is in her office, so he makes his way down some rows and past tables not being used. It seems like there’s no one here right now.
No one except Jason, sitting in the far back corner, curled up with his knees pulled up to his chest and head tucked into his arms.“Jason,” Tim says softly.“Go away.” His voice is ragged. There are deep scratches up and down his forearms.
“We need to g–”
“Get away from me! I just wanna be left alone. ”“I’ll leave you alone when we get home, okay? Promise. Just let me get you out of here first.” Tim sits down on the carpet a few feet away. “I know you’re going through some shit–”
“You don’t know anything!”“I–” Tim stops. Maybe he doesn’t know anything. Everything about Jason’s behavior has been a total mystery to him. Even now that he knows what’s causing it, he still doesn’t really understand. He knows Jason came from a bad place, but he doesn’t know exactly why that makes him react the way he does. Maybe… maybe it’s time for him to learn.“You’re right.” He fiddles with his shoelace. It comes loose. He re-ties it. “What happened to you today?”“Nothing. I don’t wanna talk about it.”“Okay.” Jason’s face is still buried in his arms. Tim says, “I punched Freddy Lin.”“Ives told me. I didn’t believe him.” Slowly, he lifts his head to look at Tim with red-rimmed eyes. He quickly wipes the tear tracks off his cheeks. “Did you really?”“Yeah. It was great, you should have seen his face.”“Wasn’t Dick mad?”“Not at me.” He shrugs. “He’ll probably talk to me about it later. I might be grounded or something, I’m not sure.” He’s never actually gotten into trouble since he’s lived with Dick. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but he’s not too worried about it.
Jason, however, looks worried. “You shouldn’t– you shouldn’t have done that.”“It’ll be fine. It’s like I said before, Dick isn’t like your dad, Jason. He won’t hurt us. You need to understand that.”The boy retreats back into himself a little, tense again. “I know, okay? I know but I just can’t–”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Tim says quickly. “Look, I… I don’t really get why, but I understand it’s gonna take a while for you to be able to trust him. You’ve only known us for like three weeks.”Tim had trusted Bruce right away. He saw that he did great things and never questioned whether that meant he was a great man.
He still thinks Bruce is a great man, but… He’s not as great as Dick. Dick helped Tim realise that Bruce is flawed. That he was wrong.
“It was my fault–”
“No! It wasn’t! You were a child and Bruce was an adult who put you in a dangerous situation. It’s his fault.”
Tim runs his fingertips down his once shattered forearm. It only recently finished healing. If he were still with Bruce, he’d be back in the field by now.
Maybe Jason is the smart one. It’s better to be sure of someone before letting your guard down, before letting them take complete control of your life. Before letting them let you get hurt.Before letting them hurt you.Tim clears his throat. “I just don’t want you to be afraid of him.”“I don’t wanna be either,” is Jason’s soft reply. Then, more firmly, “I wish I could punch Freddy.”
Tim huffs a short laugh. “I was surprised you didn’t.”“I wanted to.” He sighs and closes his eyes for a long moment. “I’ve had a really shitty day, Tim.”He sounds so tired, and it’s somehow the most honest, vulnerable thing Jason’s ever said to him.
“Yeah. I know. You wanna go home?”
Jason nods. He stands, still slightly unsteady.
Dick is waiting just outside the library. He must have come looking for them and left to let them have their conversation in private, which Tim appreciates. He looks less angry now, less like he’s about to rip someone’s head off. That’s good, because the state he was in before would have had Jason running for the hills.
“Are you okay?” Dick asks Jason, who nods.
He seems to realise that’s all he’ll be getting for now. “Okay. Good. Let’s go home, guys.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The ride back to the apartment is quiet. When they walk in, Jason heads straight for his bed.

Dick watches him, heart hurting, but lets him go without a word. Jason needs to be alone for now.

Instead, he pulls Tim over to the kitchen table. “Sit.”

“Are we gonna eat lunch? Mine got interrupted,” he tries to joke, but Dick’s not in the mood.

He crosses his arms. “We’re talking about how you broke a boy’s nose.”

Tim crosses his arms right back. “Come on, Dick, you heard what he said. He had it coming.”

“This isn’t about whether he deserved to be hit, it’s about you. I don’t want this to be how you react to bad shit, okay? You can’t punch away your problems.”

“I wasn’t trying to punch away my problems,” Tim argues. “I knew it wouldn’t solve anything, I just wanted to hit him.”

“This can’t be how you deal with your emotions,” Dick says firmly.

Tim’s face darkens. “You’re such a hypocrite. I’m not the one with the anger-management issues, Dick. Don’t pretend like you’re some beacon of well-adjustment.”

He’s been furious for what feels like hours at this point, and his control is waning, but he reminds himself that Tim isn’t the one he’s mad at.

“I’m fully aware of my own flaws, and that’s exactly why I can tell you not to act that way! I know how much Bruce messed me up by raising me the way he did, and I won’t let it happen to you. I took you away from him to keep you healthy, both physically and mentally. I’m working really hard to create a safe place for you and Jason.”

Tim scoffs. “Yeah, you worked so hard to keep Jason’s life private. What’d you do, announce it to the whole precinct in the morning briefing?”

“You know I didn’t,” Dick snaps. “I didn’t want for it to get out, but it did, unfortunately. I assumed the other officers would fucking keep it to themselves!”

“Keep your voice down,” Tim warns, glaring. “You’ll freak Jason out.”

Why do you suddenly care so much

, he wants to ask. Tim has made it pretty damn clear he doesn’t like having him here. Just this morning he barely said a word to him while they were getting ready for school.

But he doesn’t open his mouth because Tim’s right– Dick has started yelling and that’s the last thing Jason needs to hear right now. Like he said, he’s aware of his own flaws, and he knows he needs to calm down.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “We’ll talk about this later,” he says, and goes to his room to change into sweats and running shoes.

When his feet hit the sidewalk outside, all of his raging energy from the day comes boiling up to the surface and kicks him into movement. He runs.

Honestly, he’s a little surprised he had to have that conversation with Tim. It’s not like him to get violent. He gets bratty, or closed off and sulky, and sometimes he yells, but Dick has never had to worry about Tim doing something like this. He just didn’t see it coming.

Even when he was Robin, Tim never took too much pleasure from fighting. He would be proud of himself for honing his skills, but he didn’t enjoy hurting people, even the bad guys. He approached fighting as a necessary skill he had to learn in order to be Robin, and now as a backup for in case he needs to protect himself or others. Tim believes in being prepared, but he doesn’t train with Dick to work out his aggression.

He has a lot of pain inside him, but he’s never looked to physicality as a means for release.

Not like Dick.

As his legs carry him down the sidewalk, every step stomps down on his rage, flattening and smoothing it out into something more manageable– something he can hold and inspect and analyze in his mind.

If it were nighttime, he might consider donning the spandex, to leap and flip and sprint across rooftops. Flying through the air has been his comfort, his home, since he was born. When he’s excited, he does a handstand. When he’s anxious, he bounces on his toes. When he’s angry… he throws his body from great heights or runs down a sidewalk at top speed or, sometimes, goes looking for a fight with the justification of justice and civil service.

Movement

and

action

have always been how he expresses himself and how he deals with his emotions.

Bruce’s solution for dealing with all of his pain is to become a monster, fear and mystery incarnate. Yeah, he does a lot of good with it– as Batman he’s helped Gotham time and time again, but at the end of the day he’s still a man that’s never healed right, just living steeped in his hurt. He’s lost himself in the cowl. He’s more Batman than he is Bruce Wayne.

Seeing that, Dick has worked hard to keep Nightwing from taking over his entire life. It’s a part of him, but the mask does not define him. Part of that is realising he can be both Dick Grayson and Nightwing. Even when he hasn’t gone out in the suit in months, he hasn’t lost that part of himself.

Unlike Bruce, he doesn’t view a suit and mask purely as a weapon in his arsenal. He knows that there's a person inside.

Dick knows Bruce loves him, but he has a tendency to only see him as Robin, or later Nightwing. He didn’t want that for Tim and he could see it happening when Tim broke his arm– caught the calculated look in Bruce’s eye, sorting out how long it would be until Robin would be active again.

What’s worse is that Tim had that same look, trying to figure when he would be useful again.

It wasn’t all the time, he’ll admit. There were plenty of nights where Bruce would make him stay home because he was sick or hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before. He remembers being sent off to bed with a smile. There were times when Dick’s needs were put above Bruce’s own, above Batman’s, above the mission.

But there were plenty of times where he didn’t.

Dick sighs and kicks it up a notch, his pace speeding up. This isn’t about him and his issues. This is about Tim. It’s not like Tim to get violent. In fact, it’s clear he didn’t hit Freddy because he had no control over himself. He didn’t hit Freddy because he thought that would make his anger go away. He didn’t hit Freddy because that’s what he was trained to do.

He hit Freddy because he decided Freddy needed to be hit, and not for Tim’s own satisfaction. He hit him for Jason, because Jason wasn’t there to stand up for himself. And really, Dick can’t find fault with that.

By the end of his run, he feels sensible again. Calm. Rational.

It’s a good thing too, because the first thing he sees as he’s walking through the living room is Jason, standing out on the balcony, with a cigarette in hand.

Jason sees him too and freezes, terrified.

Dick sighs. It kills him each and every time the boy looks at him like that. It’ll take time to completely earn his trust, he knows that, but it still doesn’t make it any easier.

Opening the sliding glass door a crack, he says, “It’s fine, Jay, you’ve had a pretty shitty day. I understand.”

Jason doesn’t say anything, and just stares at him like he’s trying to figure out whether it’s a trap or not.

Dick just offers a small smile and shuts the door. He needs a shower.

When he’s dressed again, it’s late afternoon and any chance of squeezing in a nap before his shift tonight is out the window. It’s okay though, he’d gotten a couple hours in before the call from the school woke him up. He’s gone for longer with far less sleep in the past.

Jason and Tim are sitting on the couch watching TV and eating Chinese take-out leftovers. They’re on opposite ends and not talking, but there’s a notable difference now when compared to just a few days ago. They look slightly more comfortable in each other’s space.

Dick is so relieved. That’s one huge burden gone from the mountain already sitting on his shoulders.

He almost doesn’t want to ruin it, but there are things that need to be addressed, so he interrupts by turning off the TV. They both regard him warily (though Tim is serving him an annoyed glare while Jason taps his fingers nervously).

“First off: no one’s in trouble,” he announces, and the boys relax some. “Tim, I get it. I shouldn’t be worried about… what I was worried about. Just don’t make a habit out of it, okay?”

Tim jerks his chin in understanding.

“Jason–”

“I’m sorry,” Jason blurts out. “I’m sorry you had to come to the school and deal with all of this, and for the cigarettes, and for not being strong enough to– I should have– I’ll be better, okay? I’ll be good and I’ll get good grades and I’ll be

better

–”

His rush of words chokes off and he looks away, trying to blink back tears.

Quietly, Dick says, “Tim, why don’t you go to your room while Jason and I talk.”

Tim starts to stand, but Jason lets out a panicked noise, and he hesitates. “Do you want me to stay?”

Looking like he hates himself for it, Jason nods.

Tim stays planted on the couch.

“Okay. That’s fine,” Dick says, and it is, even though it hurts. Jason is so scared of him that he feels like he needs Tim there for protection. He tries to find the silver lining, which is that this means Jason trusts Tim, at least a little.

Catching Jason’s eye, he addresses each point very seriously but gently. “I’m not upset about having to come to the school. I’ll always come when you need me. It’s my job and it’s something I want to do. I’m not happy about the cigarette, but like I said, I understand– although I’d like to find something else to help you calm down. As for being stronger and better…”

Running a hand through his hair, Dick takes a seat on the recliner. “I’m sure whatever happened that made you panic like that… I’m sure you had a reason. I think I already have an idea of what happened, but can you tell me about it?”

Jason looks at him with uncertainty.

“Just walk me through your morning,” Dick coaxes. “Tell me about your teachers and classmates and stuff, and how everything made you feel. Please, Jason. I know this is hard for you, but I need you to talk to me right now.”

“I…” Jason swallows. “I couldn’t find my locker or the first class room for a while, so I was late.”

Tim looks guiltily down at his lap.

“I got in trouble for talking… But I got a hundred on the assignment.”

Frowning, Tim supplies, “It wasn’t his fault he got in trouble though. The first time, I was asking him for a pen, and then he was asking for help because Miss Anderson and Laura Cantoni were gossiping about her date and made it hard to hear the documentary.”

“This is what I want to know, Jason,” Dick says. “I want to know

why

you got in trouble. Which, in this case, it sounds like you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Jason sits up straighter. He starts talking, voice growing louder as he goes. He talks about how his morning went and there’s not a lot of detail, especially about just how stressed every little thing made him, but Dick is good at reading between the lines. What he gathers is that his teachers made him feel bad and stupid, and refused to help him the way he needed to be helped.

“We ran in gym and I was already feeling–” Jason makes a frustrated sound and shakes his hands in front of himself in a gesture Dick guesses is supposed to mean

anxious,

“and for some reason, it just made it worse. And then I had to shower with everyone, which was just the worst. Then it was lunchtime, but I couldn’t eat, and I felt like shit, then Freddy walked up and said what he did.

“The whole morning, everyone was staring at me and judging me and, like, I don’t give a shit about that, except I guess I kinda do because I hated it. And I kept sayin’ to myself how I need to get good grades and do well and all, but none of the teachers liked me and I had no idea what was going on. I was just really nervous and confused, and pissed off and everything sucked, and then when that kid said that… I just. It was too much and everything boiled over and I couldn’t–” Jason breaks off.

That’s probably the most Dick has heard from the boy at one time. It’s definitely the most open he’s been and it’s damn good progress, that’s for sure.

“And that’s when you got sick?” he clarifies, and Jason nods. “What were some of your other symptoms?”

When Jason frowns in confusion, Tim steps up. “Shaking, sweating, unsteadiness.”

“Were you dizzy? Heart racing? Feeling really scared?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay. Do you understand why that happened? What that was?”

Jason shakes his head. “Not really.”

“You had a panic attack.”

“I don’t… know what to do with that,” Jason says, twisting the hem of his shirt. “Like, there’s a word for it. Okay. What good does that do me?”

“Now that I know exactly what it was and what caused it, I can help.”

“How?”

“First, I can get rid of some of the stressors. The rest, we can figure out some techniques to help you through it when the anxiety hits.”

“Get rid of…” Jason frowns.

Dick rubs his left hand with his right and leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. He has to be careful here. “I think I was pushing for too much too fast. We both were. Jason… I don’t think you’re ready for public school.”

“What?” Jason asks faintly, eyes wide. “Yes I am, I– I’ll be fine, I swear!

I can do it,”

he promises desperately.

“That doesn’t mean you

should

. Please just listen to me for a second,” Dick says because Jason is starting to freak out, legs bouncing and fingers tapping doubletime. “Right now, you’re adjusting to living with new people you barely know, in a different environment from what you’ve been raised in. You’ve lost your parents. You don’t fully trust me yet. You don’t feel settled here. All of this would be hard for anyone to deal with, let alone a thirteen-year-old. Adding the academic and societal pressures of junior high on top of all that is too much to ask of yourself.

“This isn’t because you’re not smart enough, or strong enough, or good enough. You just need to slow down and take it one thing at a time. Get to a point where you’re comfortable here, with us, first. Get a handle on your anxiety before putting yourself in a stressful situation like school.”

“So, what, I’m just not gonna go to school? I

need

to go, I’m already so behind,” Jason says miserably.

“I think,” Dick says, idea forming as he says it, “we can get you caught up without you having to go back. I’ll find out what the curriculum says you need to know and then maybe find a tutor, or

I

could help you… You could start out with just one or two subjects and add more as you feel comfortable. We’ll get you caught up so that by the time you feel ready to go to school, you’re ready.”

“So, like homeschool?” Tim asks.

Dick smiles. “Exactly.”

“That’s… something that could happen?” Jason’s voice is small and confused and torn, but there’s also something hesitantly hopeful in it that makes Dick instantly sure that this is going to be

right.

“Absolutely.”

“You don’t–” He pulls his legs up and curls into himself. “You don’t have to do all that for me, it’s too much work.”

He’s said stuff like this before. Usually Dick lets it slide or lightly assures him it’s not a big deal because he thought anything else would scare Jason off, but apparently it’s not getting through.

This time, he’s blunt and straightforward as possible. “Jason, I want you to be happy. I will do anything I can to help you with anything you need. It’s not a problem for me to do this for you. Please let me help you.”

“Why?” Jason whispers.

“Because I care about you,” he answers honestly. When Jason stays quiet, Dick asks, “Does homeschooling seem like something you might be interested in?”

Jason clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Dick. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

~

They spend the few hours before Dick has to leave for work in the living room, all of them together, watching TV. Every half hour, Tim and Jason play rock, paper, scissors over who gets to decide what show they watch next.

Jason picks up pretty quickly what kind of shows the younger boy likes (

Night Rider

) and doesn’t like (

The Love Boat

), and always picks the ones he knows will have Tim pouting.

Tim could just leave. He doesn’t.

They bicker over

Full House

so loudly Dick can’t even follow what’s happening in the episode. He loves it.

That night, he’s able to leave them with a smile on his face. They’re not best friends– far from it– but he doesn’t feel like he needs to worry about them fighting while he’s gone.

Jason isn’t completely comfortable, doesn’t trust him as much as he would like, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not the boy will still be there in the morning.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The next morning, Jason wakes up at a decent hour and immediately decides to roll over and go back to sleep. When he wakes up a little later than usual, he contemplates getting up, but twenty seconds later, he’s pulling his blanket over his head to block the morning light coming in through the window.

The third or fourth or maybe fifth time he cracks his eyes open, he realises it’s not getting better, he’s still exhausted and no amount of extra sleep will help. His body is worn out like he ran twenty miles yesterday instead of one. He feels dried up, hollowed out. Thick and gummy and heavy, and his skin hurts.

Apparently, being stressed the fuck out all day and having a panic attack really does a number on you. Who knew?

He would feel embarrassed about the whole thing but he’s too tired. Empty.

When he climbs down the ladder from the top bunk, he sees Tim is still asleep too even though it’s way past time to be up for school. But then he remembers the other boy got suspended for two weeks. For punching Freddy Lin. For Jason.

Jason’s never had anyone stand up to someone in his defense before. He has no idea why Tim did that.

He has no idea why Dick is doing any of this. Last night Dick said he cares about him, but. Why? Why would he care about Jason, some kid he’s only known for a few weeks, when Jason’s own parents didn’t even care about him?

(Well, his mom cared. She did. She was just… sick.)

Jason has been asking

why

for weeks. It’s tiring.

He goes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth. There’s a cup next to the sink with three toothbrushes in it: one red, one green, and one blue. His is the green one. Jason takes a shower, noticing that the stall is wet as he steps inside. Dick must be home from work already. Of course he is, it’s late; Jason slept in so long. He gets dressed in the clothes he brought into the bathroom.

He can’t change in his and Tim’s bedroom, not with Tim still in there, even if he is sleeping.

When he goes through the living room and into the kitchen to make tea, he’s grateful that Dick isn’t out there and the door to his room is shut; Jason can’t handle talking to anyone, or even being in the vicinity of another person just yet.

He takes the mug of steaming tea out to the balcony, sits on the concrete floor and looks out over the city through the black, metal bars of the railing. He wants a smoke, but it’s more about the need to have something to do with his hands. The motion of lighting a cigarette, holding it up to his lips, and tapping the ash away is more soothing sometimes than whatever he’s inhaling. Instead, he wraps his hands around the too-hot ceramic and blinks slowly at the weak sun behind the clouds, at the crows on the fire-escape opposite. He sits out there in the chilly morning air until the tea is gone and some of his mental fog with it.

He’d failed. He wasn’t good enough to go to school and he messed everything up. Dick said it’s okay, that they’ll try something else and he can go back when he’s ready, but that doesn’t make Jason feel any better about himself. He could have–

should

have– done things differently. He could have acted better and made the teachers like him, could have kept calm and handled everything right.

No matter what Dick says, Jason knows he could’ve been better. And now Dick has to come in and fix it for him.

Homeschooling.

Jason’s not sure how he feels about that. He has no idea what it’ll be like. Except… in all the time he wasn’t in school, he was going to the library and reading whatever he could and learning things he was interested in. So maybe it will be like that. A little. That could be okay.

And he is privately unbelievably relieved that he won’t be going back to public school. Back to uncaring teachers, mean kids, and a whole world he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t really know this world either, one where he’s warm and full and safe and people act like they care, but it’s one he hopes he can grow into.

The sliding glass door squeaks softly as he opens it, and then again as it shuts behind him.

Dick is there, leaning against the kitchen counter and sipping coffee. He looks up and gives a small smile. “Heya, buddy. Feeling okay?”

“Fi–” the word gets caught in Jason’s throat and he clears it out. “Fine.”

“Fine enough to go out?”

Jason doesn’t want to go anywhere, but he can’t make himself say no. What he can manage is, “Go where?”

“The library.”

Oh. “Yes.” That’s different. That’s something he feels up to doing because he doesn’t need to be up to it. The library brings him up when he’s down. “Together? Why?”

“Well, I don’t know how to homeschool,” Dick says with a rueful shake of the head. “And when you need to know something, you go to the library. Also there’s someone that works there I really want to introduce you to.”

“A friend of yours?”

“One of my best. Her name’s Barbara and she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. Do you want to grab some breakfast on the way?”

Jason picks up a banana from the fruit bowl. “This is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m not very hungry.” Actually he is, but his stomach is still unsettled from yesterday and he doesn’t think he can eat much right now. Maybe not even the banana.

“If you change your mind, just let me know. You ready to go?”

Jason quickly shoves his feet into his boots and ties up the laces. “Yup.”

“Do you want me to wake up Tim and have him come with us?”

It’s asked casually, and Jason can’t see any resentment in Dick’s expression, but he remembers the night before when he wanted Tim to stay, when he didn’t feel comfortable being alone with Dick.

Jason looks at the floor. “No. It’s okay.”

“Alright then.” And with that they’re out the door.

Outside is too loud: car engines roaring and sputtering, honks, brakes screeching; people chatting and heels stomping the pavement; a dog barking. Everyone and everything makes noise, and the culmination of it rattles into Jason’s ears and through his body– his very tired body that’s been rattled enough in the past twenty-four hours and doesn’t need more.

He’s glad to be wearing the jacket he put on when he got dressed this morning, and not so much because of the cold; he would feel too exposed if he didn’t have the sleeves to cover his arms, a hood to drape over his head, and big pockets to shove his hands deep inside. He had put it on to hide the scratches on his arms from yesterday. Tim and Dick have already seen them but Jason doesn’t want to look at them and be reminded of hiding in the school library, crying. Being weak.

It’s only a few blocks to the Gotham City Library, so they walk. Jason stays quiet and Dick doesn’t push for conversation.

Some of the tension drains from him the instant they step inside the library. It’s a large, old building made of stone, wood, and the warm, musky vanilla scent of aged books. There are the sounds of people: walking across carpet, flipping pages, murmuring softly, opening a water bottle. All low and muted in contrast to the outside. He feels safe here–

safer,

at least.

Dick heads for the desk and speaks briefly with the man behind the counter, then gestures for Jason to follow to the bibliography section where there’s a woman sliding books into place on the shelves.

She turns to watch them approach. “Have you brought that overdue book this time?”

“You know I have no idea where it is, Babs.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn up eventually,” she says, then looks at Jason. “Hello.”

“Hi. I’m Jason.”

“Barbara. Nice to meet you.”

She doesn’t try to shake his hand, and he’s grateful.

“I’m going to talk to Barbara for a while,” Dick says. “You’re welcome to stick around, but you can go look around if you want.”

“Okay sure, I’ll go…” Jason thumbs over his shoulder.

The fantasy section is calling to him. He leaves the adults to their conversation and dives deeper into the rows. Once there, he picks up several books he doesn’t recognise, with monsters and knights and magic on the covers, then puts them all back. None of them… feel right.

He’s about to give up and go visit the classics aisle when something catches his eye on the bottom shelf. The cover art is of a mouse holding up a sword and shield, the lettering and overall look of it giving off a medieval feel. It’s intriguing. Jason’s never read a book about a mouse with a sword before.

So he flips through the pages, inhaling that sweet smell. He scans the praise quotes on the first page. There’s a map just before the story begins, which means it’ll be an adventure. Turning to a random page, Jason lets his eyes roam over the words until one line pops out at him:

Even the strongest and bravest must sometimes weep. It shows they have a great heart, one that can feel compassion for others.

Jason reads it again. And again.

Even the strongest and bravest must sometimes weep.

With one hand, he holds the book open, and with the other, he touches the place on his arm where, underneath the jacket sleeve, there are scratches.

Hiding in the school library, crying. Being weak.

Jason sits down and turns back to the start of chapter one.

~

“Hey.” Reluctantly, Jason drags his eyes up from the page. Dick is standing over him, but a few feet away. “Found something good?” he asks.

Closing the book, Jason answers, “Yeah,” but he holds it close against his front, hands blocking Dick from seeing what it is. It’s silly but he doesn’t want him to know what he’s reading. Because then it will feel like Dick knows more about him, and that makes him uncomfortable.

Maybe Dick gets the message or maybe he just doesn’t care, because he only smiles and tilts his head toward the front. “I’m finished here. You wanna check out and we’ll go?”

“I– I don’t have a library card.” Kids need a parent or whatever to get a card, and Jason’s weren’t willing or able to do it. He’s used to just coming in and reading, then putting the book back on the shelf, hoping it won’t be checked out the next day so he can finish it. He doesn’t mind much. Better to spend his time indoors in a relatively safe place than take the books home.

But things are different now, aren’t they?

“Oh,” says Dick. “Well, come on then, let’s go get you one.”

Just like that. Like it’s nothing.

Clutching the book, Jason stands and follows him to the desk. The woman, Barbara, is there. She’s talking to a man with two kids hanging off his arms, so they wait in line.

Keeping his voice low, Dick tells Jason, “Babs helped me get started. There’s this book,” he shows him, “that has reviews and stuff for the different curriculum out there, and when I decide which one would be best, I can call and order it from a catalog. She also said there are a few families that homeschool that come in all the time, if you’re ever interested in meeting them. They do lessons together.”

Jason must make a face because Dick quickly says, “You don’t have to. Just wanted to let you know the option is there.”

When the man and his kids move away, Dick steps forward. “Babs, can we get Jason signed up for a card?”

“Sure,” she says, reaching down somewhere under the counter for a form. While Dick fills it out she turns to Jason. “From what I understand, the curriculum does most of the teaching, so you’ll be able to do a lot of the work by yourself. But if there’s anything you need help with, you can ask me.”

Dick finishes writing and she takes the paper to input the information into the computer, keys clacking.

“Is that part of a librarian’s job?” Jason asks.

“No, but I wouldn’t mind being your tutor.”

Jason frowns. Why would this lady he’s only just met want to help teach him?

As if she’s reading his mind, Barbara says, “I owe Dick a favor anyway. This would make us even.”

Dick starts, “You d–” but she cuts him off.

“Richard.” Barbara levels him with a stern look while she pulls out a small plastic card and scans the barcode.

Dick glances away after a long moment. He gives Jason a half grin. “Yeah, she owes me, so just ask her anything. Like I said, she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

“Um. Sure, okay,” Jason says, looking between the two of them. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She waves his new library card. “Now what are you checking out?”

He hands her the book and she scans it, then sets the card on top and slides them back over. “All set. I hope I’ll see you soon, Jason.”

As they leave the library, Jason’s stomach growls unhappily, and he thinks about what he can eat when they get home. There’s still some Chinese take-out in the fridge… His gut recoils at the thought. He’s eaten more fast-food and delivery in the last three weeks than he did in the past three years and he’s not used to it. Already, he feels like crap today and what he really wants is comfort food. What his mom used to cook when he was too little to do it himself, or when she had good days.

“Can we stop at the grocery store?” he asks, but it’s too soft to be heard over the city noise.

“What was that?” Dick asks.

Jason swallows nervously but says it again. “Can we stop at the grocery store?”

Dick looks pleasantly surprised. “Of course!” he agrees easily.

When they walk into the store, Dick takes a moment to assure him that he can get as much as he wants.

Jason picks up a basket. He usually doesn’t buy more than he can hold at one time, but he figures he can indulge a bit, feeling marginally okay with it since Dick said that. Besides, he’s used to only feeding himself, but now there’s Tim and Dick too, so he’ll need more.

The first thing he gets is a bag of rice. He reaches for the one pound bag, reconsiders, and instead grabs the five pounder. Then he takes two steps down to the beans.

“Wow,” Dick says, scanning the shelves. “I had no idea there were so many different kinds of beans. Which ones do you like?”

“All of them,” Jason answers with a shrug as he selects one package each of pinto, navy, and black beans.

Excitedly, Dick says, “Well then let’s get all of them.” He grabs a dozen others until the basket on Jason’s arm is overflowing. “Hang on, I’m gonna go get us a cart!”

Jason stands there in the aisle, blinking stupidly, until Dick comes racing back, riding a shopping cart like a little kid. He transfers all the bags into the cart and beams. “What else?”

“Um. Noodles?”

“Noodles!” Dick crows, pushing off down the aisle.

They make their way through the store, Jason hesitantly taking things off the shelf and dropping them into the cart when Dick smiles encouragingly. A few times, he has to argue that the store brand is just as good as the name brand, and there isn’t any reason to pay more for the same thing.

He’s never bought this much food at once in his whole life.

Dick grabs some stuff too, commenting how, “Tim loves chicken nuggets,” and, “I always have cereal for breakfast,” as if Jason hadn’t noticed by now.

Jason goes a little wild in the produce section. He gets carrots and an onion, then moves on to the fruit where he adds four apples, a bunch of bananas, two oranges, grapes, and even

cherries

to the cart

.

He eyes the strawberries for half a second before deciding he’s really being too greedy, and they’re too expensive.

After he turns away, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Dick place a container of strawberries into the cart.

They’re stuck with a lot of bags to haul home, but Jason’s too giddy to care about the weight, and besides, it’s only half a block.

Tim’s watching TV on the couch when they enter the apartment, kicking off their shoes by the door and dropping the shopping bags on the table. Jason starts putting away the groceries and Dick helps.

The commotion attracts Tim’s attention, pulling him from an episode of

Get Smart.

“Are you… going to cook this?” he asks, sounding baffled by the idea.

Pausing on the way to the pantry, packs of pasta in hand, Jason answers, “That’s what people do with food, Tim.”

Dick cuts off any argument Tim may have had to that. “You don’t have to,” he says very earnestly.

“...If I want to eat, I do,” Jason answers.

“I just. I don’t want you to feel obligated to cook, or– or anything. You don’t have to

do

anything to stay here.”

Jason remembers, back in Bruce Wayne’s library, when Dick first invited them to stay and he’d asked what he would need to do to earn that. His cheeks burn with embarrassment now. It wasn’t a crazy thing to ask, from what he knew at the time, but now that he knows Dick better, it’s ridiculous. And it’s stupid that Dick still worries he might think that way.

He forces himself to meet Dick’s eyes. “I know.”

Dick must see that he means it, because he instantly looks like a weight has been lifted. “Good. That’s great. Um.” He checks his watch. “Do you need help with any of this? It’s about time for me to head to bed, but I can lend a hand if you want.”

Jason laughs. “I think the only way you could help prepare a meal is by giving me the phone number for delivery.”

“I can’t even argue with that,” Dick says, cracking a smile. “Okay, well then I’m going to go to sleep. Good night.”

“It’s noon,” Tim says to his retreating back.

“It’s night for me!” Dick calls, and then his bedroom door clicks shut.

Tim watches as Jason puts away the last of the food, except for the rice and navy beans. “So… what are you gonna do with those?”

“Cook them?”

“Yeah, but like… how?”

Pulling out one medium and one small sized pot (he had been surprised to find Dick and Tim owned cookware but apparently Bruce Wayne’s butler, Alfred, had made sure they were stocked on all necessities, even though neither one used them), he says, “I can show you.”

The

Get Smart

theme song plays in the living room.

Tim sits at the table. “Cool.”

Jason starts the rice first, narrating each step as he goes. He puts on the water to boil on the stove top and then comes back to the table. “The rice will be done in thirty minutes, but the beans will take a few hours.”

Tim’s eyes bug out. “You’re gonna be in here cooking all day!”

Jason grins. “It’s actually not that much work. Once they get going, you just leave it, and come back to stir occasionally. Now, wanna help me sort?”

He opens the bag and dumps the beans out on the tabletop. “Look for bad beans or clumps of dirt.”

“Why is there dirt in our food?”

“Because it came from the ground.”

Tim doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but he moves on. “What do bad beans look like?”

“You’ll know when you see one.” Jason pulls a small mound toward himself and scans each bean, then puts the ones that pass inspection in the pot. Across from him, Tim does the same.

They work in silence for a minute, and then for some reason Jason is compelled to say, “I used to help my mom do this. She taught me math with them.”

Tim looks up. “Really?”

“Yeah. She…” She taught him how to count, as well as add and subtract, having Jason count out loud how many beans he put in the pot. She’d line up rows of beans and slide some away, or add more, and ask him how many were left.

Jason wants to say all of this, but he can’t. So he doesn’t. His sentence hangs unfinished in the air between them, but Tim seems to understand that’s the end of it for now, and he doesn’t push.

“I don’t think my mom taught me like that. My dad either,” Tim says after a time, glancing at Jason, and looking down again. “I think Mrs. Mac taught me some stuff, but I don’t really remember much from back then.”

“Mrs. Mac?”

“My… nanny, I guess.” Before Jason can comment on that, Tim changes the subject. “Why do you make beans if you have to sort out bad ones and clumps of dirt? Seems like a lot of work.”

The water on the stove starts to boil, so Jason adds the rice and turns down the heat. “They’re cheap. This bag only cost thirty-nine cents and it’ll last a while.” Jason considers the fact that there will be three young men eating them. “Well. Maybe a couple days.”

“You don’t have to base all your choices now around what’s cheapest. We can afford stuff.”

Yes, he does. He does need to base all his choices around what’s cheapest because that’s what he’s always done, and that’s just how his brain works. He can’t imagine doing anything differently. And why should he? Just because they

can

waste money, doesn’t mean they

should.

That last part he says out loud and adds, “Besides, I like beans.”

Tim sighs. “Whatever, man. Just remember Dick will get you pretty much anything you want.”

“Yeah, it was

so weird

,” Jason says, scooping the last of the beans into the pot and then taking it over to the sink to wash them. “He really did let me get whatever I wanted. I even had to talk him down from buying too much. Crazy.”

There’s no response, and Jason glances over his shoulder. Tim is giving him a strange look.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The other boy shakes his head.

Jason gets the feeling Tim is being careful with him, which makes him a little indignant. But he’s just too tired to do anything about it, and honestly, part of him is grateful for it. A

tiny

part.

Closing his eyes, he drags his hand through the cool water, hard, smooth beans sliding across his palm and between his fingers. He’s always loved this part.

Behind him, Tim’s chair screeches softly against the floor. “Hey, I gotta go do something. I’ll be back later.”

“Before dark?”

“Yeah. Before dark. Bye, Jason.”

“Bye, Tim.”

The front door closes quietly enough not to wake Dick.

Jason drains the murky water from the pot, then refills it.

~

Not long after Tim leaves, Jason curls up on the couch with a bowl of rice in his lap and his new library book. He takes a bite and flips to the page he left off at. He’s still exhausted, and drained, and anxious about a lot of things, but for now he feels a little better.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Barbara looks mildly shocked to see Tim walk into the Gotham City Library, which isn’t surprising. In the past, on the very rare occasion he’s wanted to read a book, he could find one in his parents’ personal library and then later Bruce’s. When he needs to do research for school work (the completion of which is, again, a rare occasion), he can usually use Dick’s computer to go online. It’s not as awesome as Batman’s (oh, how he misses the Batcave), but it’s better than the ones at the library or the school.
Speaking of the school, he has roughly four hours until it’s cleared out. He can learn a lot in four hours, and then the real fun begins.
He could have used the computer in Dick’s room for this; he’s sure he could find websites with similar information, but he wouldn’t have had privacy in the apartment, not with Jason there. Not that he thinks Jason would have stood over his shoulder the whole time, but he might have been curious about what Tim was doing, or at least interested in the computer. He doesn’t think Jason’s used one much, if at all.
Also, he’s a little wary of using the internet on Dick’s computer after the last time. One would think that a man who spent half his life being trained by Batman would remember to clear his browsing history…
Tim shudders.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Barbara asks.
“Working on a personal project.”“Why didn’t you come with Dick and Jason earlier?”“It’s a personal personal project.”
She doesn’t ask any more questions about it other than, “Need any help?”“Thanks, I’m good.” He starts to walk away, then hesitates. “How’s the nightlife?”Without Nightwing and Robin, Gotham’s streets are only being patrolled by Batman and Batgirl, and they don’t actually work together that much. Barbara has always been content to work outside of Bruce’s umbrella.
“It’s fine. B’s asked for my help a few times. I think he hasn’t adjusted to not having a partner anymore.”That stings, but Tim appreciates her honesty. “He’s okay though?”Barbara pauses, considering. “Okay by his standards. But has he ever really been okay?”
Tim looks down at the worn rug. “I guess not. That’s why– why he needs…”

Batman needs a Robin.
“Hey,” Barbara says, and her tone demands that Tim look up at her. “It’s not you that he needs, alright? He needs help, but not the kind he thinks, not the kind found by putting a child in danger. It’s not your job or your responsibility to fix him.” She takes a deep breath, and releases it, and with it goes some of the anger in the lines around her mouth. “Just don’t worry too much about it. Be a kid. Ride your skateboard. Go to school. That’s all you need to think about. Got it?”
“Got it,” Tim echoes quietly. That’s not all he needs to think about, he wants to say. He’s thinking about Jason and how to help him. Hell, that’s the whole reason he’s here right now, to learn how to help Jason.
Isn’t it his responsibility to help him? He feels like it is. Dick made it seem that way. If he can help Jason, then why not Bruce too? Maybe it shouldn’t be his job to help Bruce, but it could be, and he can’t stop thinking about that.
He doesn’t say any of this out loud. “Be safe out there,” he says instead, and moves off into the shelves.
He starts with more analytical sources, mostly medical texts, to get a baseline of the physical and psychological symptoms of PTSD, anxiety, and any other thing he thinks Jason might be suffering. Then he pulls out titles like, Allies in Healing and The Courage to Heal .
Engrossed, he almost misses his window of opportunity, but somehow checks his watch just in time to leave the library. He makes it to the school after all the students and staff have gone, but still with enough time to do what he needs to do and get home before dark.
At the start of the semester, Vice Principal Wheeler had boasted to the student body about the new security he’d had installed around the building over the winter break. It basically boiled down to new locks and a few cameras.
As he picks the lock of a side door, sneaks through the building while easily avoiding the cameras, and lets himself into Mr. Wheeler’s office, Tim thinks he’d love to see the man’s face if he ever discovered how his state-of-the-art security crumbled before a twelve year-old. A twelve year-old with special training, sure, but still.
Cracking his knuckles, Tim settles into the vice principal’s chair and fires up the computer. It doesn’t take long to get what he came for, and soon he’s dropping a freshly loaded flash drive into his pocket.
Before he leaves, Tim removes a few critical screws at just the right points from Wheeler’s office chair. It looks fine, just managing to hold itself together, but that’ll change the second Wheeler sits down tomorrow morning.
He slips out the way he came and gets home just as the sun is setting.
When Tim walks through the door, he’s hit with the warm, hearty smell of food . He groans, stomach rumbling and eager. “What is that?”
“Arroz y frijoles,” Jason answers. He and Dick are sitting at the table, each hunched over a bowl.
“Qué? Hablo poco Español.” Tim is surprised he remembers even that much from Mr. Fairfield’s class.
Jason shakes his head pityingly. “Dios mío.”Dick laughs. “You barely know more than he does!”“En Español, por favor,” Jason tuts in disapproval.
Dick releases a string of fast, fluent Spanish.
When he’s finished, Jason gives a slow blink and says, “Sí,” even though he clearly didn’t follow, and pointedly turns his attention toward Tim. “It’s rice and beans,” he explains, waving toward the two pots sitting on the stovetop.
Tim loads up a bowl of his own and takes the last empty chair. Thinking back over what he learned today, about being encouraging and appreciative, and how important that is for people like Jason, he says, “Thank you for cooking.”Both Dick and Jason look up at him.
He clears his throat and takes a bite. “It’s really good.”
“Thanks,” Jason says, wary, like he thinks Tim might be up to something.
It makes him sad that someone would be so surprised, and even suspicious of something as simple as a compliment, but it is unusual, probably, for Jason to receive one. Unusual, too, for Tim to give one so freely. Those books he read talked about compliments, patience, and emotional support which he knows is something he’ll have to work at. It doesn’t come naturally to him. But he realises now just how little effort he’s always put in toward just… being kind.
Tim swallows. The food really does taste good.
Dick’s giving him this big, proud smile that makes him want to crawl under the table.
They eat quietly for a few minutes before Dick gets up and goes to the sink to rinse his empty bowl. “Thanks again, Jay,” he says, then heads to his room to get dressed for work.
“I got something for you,” Tim says when his door shuts. “I’ll show you after Dick leaves.”
Jason’s face screws up in distaste. “You bought me something?”
“No, no, I didn’t pay a dime,” Tim assures him, and Jason’s expression eases, though it’s still not entirely comfortable.
“Does that mean you stole it?”“N– actually, yeah,” Tim laughs.
Jason’s eyes go huge. “You what? Seriously?”
Tim just shrugs. “It’s fine.”
“But what if you get caught?” Jason asks, voice lowered but strained, glancing toward Dick’s room.
“Don’t freak out, Dick wouldn’t get mad about this.” Maybe. Tim’s not supposed to be doing Robin things, or breaking the rules just because he can, but Dick might get a kick out of it this time. Maybe he’ll show him someday.“He’s a cop! Why wouldn’t he flip shit about his– his brother doing something illegal ?”
“Because Dick is the best,” Tim answers simply. Dick’s not perfect, like he used to think he was, but he is still the best person Tim’s ever known.
Jason opens his mouth to argue, but then he deflates. “Yeah,” he says softly. “He is, isn’t he?”He goes quiet, staring into space, and then, like he’s been holding the words in too long, “I don’t get it.” Jason rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. He looks so tired. “I don’t know why Dick is so nice to me. He lets me buy whatever I want and tries to talk to me and– and he’s gonna homeschool me, for fuck’s sake. I just don’t get it. ”“That’s what paren– people are supposed to do,” Tim says slowly, but with emphasis. “If anyone does anything else… that’s wrong.”“ Oh, ” Jason says, and his voice is so small.
It kind of breaks Tim’s heart, how lost he sounds. Or, rather, found. Like he’s been lost for a really long time and now, just in this moment, he sees… not a way out. But the fact that there is a way out. That what he’s lived with his whole life isn’t the way things have to be, and there’s a chance he could have something better, even if he doesn’t know how to get there.
That’s okay. Tim and Dick can help point him in the right direction.

~“Are you serious?”“Trust me,” Tim says as he peeks through the microwave door, watching the bag inflate, the crescendo of pops music to his ears. “It’ll be worth the wait. This’ll totally be a popcorn moment.”Jason leans on the kitchen counter and sighs. “We just ate.”“That was a whole ten minutes ago,” he argues. “We’re growing boys. Can you honestly tell me you don’t want popcorn right now?”
Jason just rolls his eyes and Tim takes that to mean yes, he does want popcorn, but he doesn’t want to admit he’s right.
The microwave beeps and Tim snatches the bag. “Okay! It’s go time. Come on,” he says and leads the way into Dick’s room.“Is it okay for us to be in here?” Jason asks, looking around the room like he expects Dick to come jumping out from somewhere even though they both watched him leave three minutes ago.“It’s cool,” Tim assures him. “I’m allowed to use the computer whenever I want. Or at least when Dick isn’t sleeping.”

He claims the chair at the desk, pulls out the flash drive, and fires up the computer.
Tentatively, Jason sits on the edge of Dick’s bed.
“Here,” Tim announces when he has the file pulled up and ready. “Switch seats with me. I want you to see this up close. I’ve already seen it.”Jason takes the chair and Tim stands just behind, looking over his shoulder. He rips open the popcorn and grabs a handful, then drops the bag in Jason’s lap.
“Here we go!”Tim leans over to hit play when Jason makes no move to start the video.
~“It’s so beautiful,” Jason says, awed. He shoves more popcorn in his mouth.On screen, Tim grabs Freddy Lin and slams him down on the lunch table, right in Rebecca Sandusky's mashed potatoes.
“You’re so fast!”
Tim smiles. “Thanks. Here it comes...”
The security footage is in greyscale and the resolution is grainy, but it’s good enough to see the punch he lands to Freddy Lin’s stupid face.
“Holy shit,” Jason says. “I just wish there was sound.”
After the twelfth viewing Jason says, “It gets better every time. How the hell did you get this anyway?”“Like I said, I stole it,” Tim answers, and Jason gives him a go on look, so he explains, “I broke into the school and hacked Wheeler’s office computer.”
“You know how to do stuff like that?”“I know how to do lots of stuff.”“How?”Tim shifts. He wants to tell the truth, but it’s not his truth to tell. Not entirely. It’s Dick’s and Bruce’s, and maybe someday they’ll decide to tell Jason everything, but it’s not for him to say. Not today.
Jason must pick up on his discomfort, and he understands pretty damn well, doesn’t he, about not wanting to talk about your past? He changes the subject. “Can you show me?”“What, how to fight?”“I know how to fight,” Jason says with a scowl. Tim believes him, but it’s probably street fighting. He could learn a thing or two from him. Or maybe Dick would be better. “No, how to do this sort of shit. The hacking, and whatever.”“Why? What would you do with knowing how to do that?” Tim suddenly remembers that Jason is technically a criminal. He tried to steal the tires off the Batmobile.
Would Bruce approve of teaching a thief how to hack computers? It takes all of a second for Tim to decide he doesn’t care what Bruce would think because Bruce is not the general manager of the universe, as much as he tends to think he is. Batman doesn’t actually make the rules, and Tim doesn’t have to think about whether or not Batman would approve of his choices anymore. He knows Jason now, well enough to know that Jason only does what he needs to do to survive.
As long as he’s here, with Dick and Tim to make sure he never lands in that sort of situation again, he won’t do anything bad. Jason doesn’t want to do anything bad. He never did.
“Honestly? Probably nothing,” Jason says with a shrug. “I really can’t think of anything. But it seems really cool, and I like learning interesting things.”He just likes to learn things. God, he’s such a nerd. “And you want to learn from me? ”
“Why not? Unless…” he adds after a long moment of Tim just staring at him, “Unless you don’t want to. It’s fine.”
Jason starts doing that thing where he pulls into himself, bringing his legs up to wrap an arm around them, and Tim quickly says, “No! I mean, yes. I’ll teach you. That sounds rad.”
“You sure?” Jason asks slowly, but there’s this hope underlying the question that has Tim nodding right away.
“Yeah! Yeah.”
Jason smiles. “Okay cool. Thanks.”
Tim really can’t help but smile back. “No problem.”
Jason’s smiling at Tim and Tim’s smiling at Jason. They sit there like that for a while and Tim can’t make it stop, and it feels weird because he is really happy that Jason is happy. He likes when people are happy, but this is way more special because Jason really hasn’t been happy for the past few weeks, and probably a lot longer. Jason shouldn’t have to be as sad as he’s been, and if something little like this can make him feel better, then Tim will do it. If he just needs to hear someone say he’s doing well and isn’t a waste of space, Tim will say it over and over. He just wants to help.
Eventually, Jason glances away and clears his throat. He plays the clip again.
“Man, this is so awesome. ”“Told you it was popcorn-worthy.”Tim gets a handful of popcorn to the face for that. “Hey! I’m not cleaning that up!”They stay up late watching Freddy Lin get his ass kicked over and over, and then watch regular TV for a while (even though it isn’t nearly as entertaining) before going to bed with a happy, sleepy, “Goodnight, Tim,” and “Goodnight, Jason.”
~In the morning, Tim shuffles into the kitchen for breakfast only to find Dick and Jason sitting at the table, looking at a book together.
Dick’s saying, “I’m going to go ahead then and order the whole curriculum. You can decide which classes you want to start with, and I’ll put the rest aside until you’re ready for them. Sound good?”
Nodding, Jason bites into a strawberry. “‘S fine. Thanks.”
Tim pulls out a box of Toaster Strudels from the freezer. “Is computer science part of the curriculum?” he asks very casually.Jason only freezes for a second before he keeps chewing.
Dick looks away from the book to Tim. “Hmm, I don’t think that’s included until high school. Why?”
(Sometimes Tim lies because he needs to.)
He could just say, Jason and I were talking about computers and he asked me to teach him about them…
(But sometimes Tim lies because it’s fun.)
“I just thought it’d be cool to teach Jason about computers.” He pops the pastries in the toaster and puts on the tiniest pout. “I thought we could, like, bond. Or whatever.”
Dick Grayson the vigilante and cop has a finely-tuned bullshit detector.But Dick Grayson the big brother has a soft spot for Tim, and Jason, and Tim-and-Jason.
Also, Tim’s a pretty good liar.
He can practically see him melt inside. “That would be great!” Dick says. “Do you want to do that, Jason?”Jason bites down on something Tim thinks is a smile. “Um. Yeah, sure.”
Dick starts flipping through the book. “I could probably order the class. There’s no reason you can’t do it early. Wait, this isn’t the catalogue. I need to order the catalog. Okay, I’m going to go order the catalogue. This’ll be great!”He jumps up and all but runs out of the room.
“Why’d you do that?” Jason asks.
“As long as you’re learning it, you may as well get school credit for it.” The Toaster Strudels pop up and Tim sets them on a plate. He rips open the icing packet and drizzles it on.
“I don’t think a computer science course covers hacking security footage.”“So I’ll be adding fun stuff to the curriculum.” Tim shrugs. “We’ll call it extra credit.”Dick pops his head back into the kitchen. “Oh, and speaking of computers, what were you doing on mine?”Jason freezes more obviously this time.
Tim moves so that he’s standing mostly between them, so Dick can’t see Jason give anything away. “What makes you think I was on it?”
Dick gives him a flat look. “I know when someone’s been in my room. I found a piece of popcorn on the floor.”
Damn. Foiled by his own popcorn.
Actually, foiled by Jason throwing the popcorn. Whatever.
“Look, it’s fine,” Dick continues. “Just be careful about what… what you’re doing on there.”

He could tell Dick exactly what he used his computer for, but sometimes he lies just because it’s fun. Especially lying to Batman and Nightwing. Especially twice in a row. He’s on a roll this morning.
Sitting down, Tim takes a bite and licks icing off the corner of his lip. “What do you think I’m doing?”
Dick gives him a look that screams, don’t make me say it, but Tim just looks back expectantly, eating his yummy breakfast.
He sighs, a heavy, tortured thing. “If you are finding porn on the computer–” everyone in the room winces, “then please just know that most of the stuff you’ll see out there is really unrealistic and not always healthy, and certainly not an accurate depiction of what sex should or will be.”“So… stay away from the kinky stuff, is what you’re telling me,” Tim says and Dick nods. “I think you should take your own advice.”“All I’m saying is you need to be careful.”“All I’m saying is that before last month, I didn’t know it’s possible to fit two dicks in one ass, but I do now.”“ What? ” Dick yelps.
“You really should clear out your browser history every once in a while.”
Dick lets out a faint, “Oh god ,” and leaves again.
Finishing the rest of one of the Toaster Strudels, Tim finally looks back over to Jason, who’s completely red in the face. “I think that went well, don’t you?”“You’re crazy,” Jason tells him. Then he laughs.
It’s a nice laugh.
“Who isn’t?” Tim says with a shrug.
Jason looks at his plate and the remaining pastry on it. “Is that actually good? I’ve never tried one.”
“You want it?”
He hesitates a second, but then, “Sure, thanks.”
Tim slides it over. “What do you want to do today?”
“I was gonna read.” Jason takes a bite.
“ Boring. ”“Hey, Tim?”“Yeah?”“I hate this.”“What? It’s like a Poptart!”“I hate Poptarts too! I only ate them because that’s all there was around here.”“Now you’re crazy,” Tim insists, making grabby hands. “Give me that. Have fun with your fruit and your books. Or…”“Or?”“We could go get you some new clothes.”
Jason rubs at the huge oil stain on the thigh of his jeans. “...Yeah. Okay.”

They throw on their shoes and Tim yells at Dick that they’re leaving, running out the door before the man recovers from his mortification and moves on to the rage stage, and starts yelling about privacy or bans Tim from his room entirely.

It’s busy on the street and the sidewalk. At one point, Tim pinches the sleeve of Jason’s jacket between his fingers so that they won’t get separated. To his surprise, Jason lets him.
When they get to the store, Tim can’t persuade Jason to buy more than one new pair of jeans and a good jacket, but it’s something.
Tim wants to go to the arcade or go see a movie, but it doesn’t take long for Jason to start getting anxious, so as soon as they’ve paid for his new clothes (which is a big part of what made him so anxious), they go home.
Jason climbs up onto the top bunk and reads.
Tim barely sees him for the rest of the day, but when he does, he gets little nods and smiles and it feels okay.
That night, he wakes up when Jason comes down the ladder from his bed and quietly sneaks out of the room. Tim follows, curious.
He finds him out on the balcony.
Jason startles when Tim slides open the door and steps out to join him. “What are you doing out here?”“What are you?” Tim asks.He looks down at the cigarette between his fingers. “It’s my last one.”“Last one in your pack, or last one you’re going to smoke?”Jason presses his lips in a tight line. “Not sure yet.”
He’s sitting on the concrete floor, so Tim sits too, closer to the railing. “Is it actually good? I’ve never tried it.”
“Depends on your definition of good, I guess.”
Tim reaches out, and Jason gives him a disbelieving look. “Just once,” he says because he wants to understand the appeal.
Jason hands over the cigarette and Tim inhales.
“Hey, Jason?”“Yeah?”“I hate this.”Jason laughs and takes it back. “Yeah, you usually do at first.”
“We need to find you something better to do with your stress, buddy.”
“Like what?”“I don’t know.” Tim looks up at the clouds above them, dirty and grey from pollution. It’s cold out here, but he’ll stay until Jason goes inside, or he’s asked to leave. “We’ll think of something.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Jason insists, straightening his biology workbook so it aligns with the edge of the table. “Totally chill!”

Babs raises one red eyebrow. “Don’t bullshit me, little boy.”

“I’m not bullshitting.”

Staring him in the eyes, Barbara slowly reaches over and nudges the book. Jason refuses to look away from her, to see how the book is now crooked.

His fingers itch.

It’s

crooked.

With an angry huff he breaks, righting the book so that it’s straight again. “That’s

mean.

”

“You’re stressed.”

“Yes! Okay, yes, I’m freaking out,” Jason admits, his voice echoing through the library, and someone at a nearby table shushes him. He lowers his voice. “I have no idea what to get him. Happy now, you big meanie?” he asks, keeping his hand hovering over the workbook protectively.

Barbara sits back in her chair. “I’m not going to move it again, I just wanted you to stop bottling this up. Talk to me.”

Jason slides his workbook into his backpack with the others so he won’t have to be aware of it. They’re done with schoolwork for the day anyway.

“The only thing I know he wants is an Atari gaming system, but that’s over a hundred dollars.” There’s no way Jason can afford that, and no chance in hell he’d ask Dick to borrow that much.

He’ll be using his own savings, so whatever gift he buys for Tim’s birthday needs to be within budget of Jason’s five dollar per week allowance. The allowance Dick practically has to force on him, because he doesn’t believe in free money. Dick already pays for everything he needs, so what the hell is he supposed to be buying anyway? Although, now Jason can

buy

books, and have them be

his

. And, sometimes, he goes with Tim to the arcade.

“You could just ask Tim what he wants,” Babs points out, and it does sound very reasonable when she says it, but…

“Isn’t it supposed to be a surprise?” Jason asks. He doesn’t have much experience with this sort of thing, but he’s pretty sure about that part. “And what’s the point in getting a present that he told me to get? He could just get it himself.”

“He could get himself an Atari too, but it would mean more coming from you.”

“I don’t know, it just feels… lazy. Or like I don’t care enough to think about what he wants.”

“You’re thinking about it

too much.

”

“But he doesn’t know that!”

Another

shush

.

“Then tell him,” Babs says. “This is a chance to practice those communication skills we worked on.

Talk

to Tim about how you’re

feeling

about all of this.”

“It– it seems…” Jason drags his hand down his face. “Ugh.”

“It seems what,” Barabra coaxes.

“Lame,” he finally answers. “Embarrassing,” he adds.

“Nothing is lame if it’s important, and this is important. It won’t be embarrassing when you get comfortable with it, but that will only happen by

doing

it. He can’t read your mind, just like you can’t read his. The only way to know what anyone is thinking is by talking to them.”

Not for the first time, Jason wishes he could read minds. Telepathy would be so much easier than actually

saying words

. What’s the name of that guy in that show Tim likes? Spock. Spock is telepathic. He wishes he could be Spock.

He sighs. “Fine, I’ll talk to him.”

Maybe. Like he said, it’s embarrassing. He’s a lot more comfortable with Tim now, after sharing a bedroom for five months, but it’s still not something he’s used to doing. Sharing, that is. Emotions and stuff.

It’s not something Tim is very good at either. They spend most of their free time together, and yet, Jason still doesn’t know a thing about Tim’s parents or how they died, and Tim doesn’t know anything about Jason’s mom, her picture still tucked safely underneath his pillow. He knows Tim’s favorite pizza toppings and the sound of his sneezes, but not what it is that has him waking in the night, trying to staunch his tears.

Barbara gives him a sceptical look but just says, “Good,” and leaves it at that. “Now, is there anything else to go over today?”

“Nope,” Jason replies, grabbing his backpack and making sure it’s zipped closed. “I think I’m ready to finish out biology, so I’ll take the final test at home soon, probably after Tim’s party. And then I was thinking I’d try economics next.”

In the four and a half months that Jason has been homeschooling, he’s completed almost ten courses. A majority of them he was able to briefly study for and then test out of.

Dick thought it best to start him on the sixth grade curriculum, just to be sure he had a proper foundation, and Jason knew enough to not have to spend too much time on them. The classes he actually spends time on, he likes to do one at a time and knock them out in a few weeks when he puts all of his focus on just that one class. (And he does put all of his focus on his classes; he doesn’t have much else he wants to think about.)

However, even with how quickly he’s been finishing the courses, and the fact that public school has been out for summer break, Jason still hasn’t caught up to Tim yet, academically. But he has enough credits now to be a seventh grader, and he doesn’t think it’ll be too long until he’s passing up Tim, who’s going into the eighth grade in a month. By the end of the first semester, at least.

“Sounds fun,” Barbara says, standing from the creaky, wooden chair. “So I’ll see you at Bruce’s place tomorrow night?”

Jason nods. He’s not looking forward to it. It’s good that it’s Tim’s birthday and they’re having a party, but the manor makes him uncomfortable. They’ve gone over there for dinner twice in the past few months, and each time was awkward. Not only because of the obvious tension between Dick and Bruce, but because of the place itself, the extravagance that Jason doesn’t think he could ever get used to.

But this is for Tim, so he’ll suck it up. “Yeah, see you there.”

He pushes through the library doors and is hit with a wall of heat that makes him want to just turn around and stay in there with the books all day. But he has a mission to complete, so he forces himself out into the oppressive Gotham summer and sits on the front steps, waiting.

A few minutes later, Dick pulls up to the curb and honks, yanking Jason’s attention from the book in his lap. Putting the book safely in his backpack, he hops down the steps and gratefully climbs into the air-conditioned car.

“So?” Dick asks. “What did you decide?”

With a sigh, Jason leans back against the headrest. “I don’t know. Babs said I should just ask Tim what he wants.”

“You want to do that? We can drop by the apartment and then go shopping.”

Jason chews on his bottom lip. It’s just a present, not some huge, deep thing. But it feels big. It feels too personal, and he isn’t used to getting too personal with people, even Dick and Tim after so long. And despite what Barbara said, he feels like he should pick something out himself. Like he’ll be failing if he doesn’t.

“No, let’s just go. I’ll figure it out.”

Dick drives them to the mall. Half a year ago, Jason would have been insulted by the idea of being accompanied somewhere.

The first few times he went out with Tim and Dick, he felt like he was being babysat. It didn’t take long to become familiar enough with the neighborhood that he could go to the store and the library, or just wander around by himself. He liked that freedom. For a while. Until the day he turned a corner and saw a man across the street, and Jason spun around and ran back the other way so fast he nearly ate sidewalk.

On the few times he’d thought about what it would be like to see his dad again, Jason imagined telling the bastard off. Maybe getting in a few shots of his own.

The last thing he imagined doing was running away, but that’s exactly what happened.

He still doesn’t know for sure if that man was really Willis Todd, but he looked enough like him to send Jason into a panic state almost as bad as that time at school. He managed to find his way to the apartment and it took the whole afternoon for Dick to calm him down. Jason didn’t want to explain what had upset him, but he remembered Dick already knew what a piece of shit Willis was, and all he had to say was, “I thought I saw my dad,” for Dick to understand.

When Tim came home from school, he stayed right next to Jason for the rest of the evening.

The next time he went out, he asked Dick to go with him, and didn’t get any questions about it.

Jason does go out by himself sometimes, mainly to the library and back, but there are days when he feels too exposed. Having Tim or Dick by his side feels like an invisible barrier of protection around him. And it makes sense that he’d feel safe with Dick, seeing as he’s a cop.

It doesn’t make sense with Tim, seeing as he’s a kid– younger than him, even. But still, Tim is categorized in Jason’s brain as

safe

. Maybe since he punched Freddy Lin. Maybe since they spent so many nights staying up with each other when one of them couldn’t sleep, playing

Uno

until three in the morning, trying to stifle their laughter and groans of frustration.

Jason’s not sure when it happened, but he feels comfortable with Tim. Sometimes, he feels more comfortable with Tim than with only himself.

And yet not comfortable enough to talk about heavy feelings, or even ask what he wants for his birthday. It’s just a different kind of comfort, he supposes.

Dick chats about his shift the night before, about the drunk he’d come across that wasn’t wearing any pants and absolutely refused to confess why. “I’m still so curious. The guy was just stumbling down the street, suit jacket and tie, loafers in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other, in his tighty-whities! There’s got to be a story there.”

Jason laughs. Maybe Rolanda got him, he thinks. She likes to find suit types, make them think they’re gonna get lucky, and rob them. Thinks it’s funny to take their clothes, which it is. The guy was lucky, actually, that he made it out with his shirt and shoes. He’s not gonna rat her out to Dick though.

Turning into a parking garage, Dick says, “Man, I’m excited to have the next few nights off.”

“Excited for the party?”

After a beat, Dick replies, “Excited for Tim’s birthday,” which Jason notices is not the same thing. “I just hope…”

“Hope what?” Jason prods when Dick doesn’t continue.

It isn’t until the car is parked that he answers, softly. “It’s his first birthday without his parents.”

“Oh.” Jason didn’t know. They must have died shortly before he moved in with them. A few months, at the most.

Maybe that’s what keeps Tim up at night.

Last year was Jason’s first birthday without his mom. He’d told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but he ended up missing her so bad he cried the whole day. His mom couldn’t always take care of him as much as she wanted to, and sometimes she didn’t even know what day it was, but she always, every single year, made sure to celebrate his birthday. She would leave early before he woke up and buy him a donut because they were cheap, and she made it seem like it was this amazing thing, just for birthdays.

Even when he grew old enough to understand that donuts were not exclusive to birthdays, and there was no reason he couldn’t have one any day of the year, he never did. He kept that special because it was the only thing his mom could do for him. Last year he’d gone out in the morning and got himself a donut.

He couldn’t bring himself to finish it.

Inside the mall, they window shop for a while, Jason considering and then rejecting a line of possible presents, Dick occasionally making suggestions. It isn’t until they pass a music store that Jason stops. Tim likes music. He has a walkman and listens to it all the time. In fact, he remembers Tim eagerly talking about a certain group coming out with a new album recently, and he smiles.

Jackpot.

~

Tim is way more chipper than Jason expected the next morning. He thought he’d be at least a little sad, or subdued, since he’s celebrating his first birthday since his parents’ death, but Tim practically jumps out of bed, startling him awake.

“It’s my birthday!” he yells. He points up at Jason on the top bunk, who’s peering bleary-eyed over the railing and not awake enough for all of this noise. “I’m the same age as you for the next twenty-seven days!”

“It’s your birthday!” Dick yells from the other room, then shoves their door open with a huge smile. “Get dressed, we’re going for pancakes!”

Tim pumps his fist into the air triumphantly. “Pancakes!”

They go to a diner down the street and Tim orders smiley-face chocolate chip pancakes.

Jason watches him carefully as he eats, as they head back home, as he watches TV, but Tim really looks happy. He doesn’t understand it. How can Tim
be so happy?

But maybe he isn’t. Maybe he’s hiding what he’s really feeling. Jason does it, so why can’t Tim?

“You should give me your present now,” Tim tells him after lunch.

“Aren’t you supposed to open them at the party tonight?”

“I don’t want to wait. And what’s the point in you lugging it all the way to Bruce’s?”

Jason figures there’s no point in arguing, so they go to their room where he pulls out the small gift he’d hidden in his sock drawer.

“Happy birthday,” he announces with a flourish.

Grinning, Tim tears through the meticulously folded wrapping paper to reveal a cassette tape: U2’s

The Joshua Tree.

“Oh,” he says.

Jason fiddles with the hem of his shirt. That doesn’t sound good. “You like it?”

“Um. Yeah, yeah I do.” Tim gives a small, sheepish laugh. “I like it so much I already have a copy.”

Jason can feel his face fall while his whole body deflates. “You do? That same one?” He sighs. “Shit. I’m sorry. I just, I remembered you talking about it, but I didn’t think about you getting it for yourself.”

He failed. He

failed.

He should’ve just asked Tim what he wanted like Barbara said. Now he’s wasted money and disappointed Tim.

Looking up, Tim notices his distress and pastes on a smile. “But hey, now I have a backup in case anything happens to it.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Not if you know how many tapes I’ve lost.”

Jason shakes his head. “I really wanted to get you a good present.” Tim has done so much for him over the past few months. He’s become his closest friend. His only friend, really, apart from Barbara and Dick. He wanted to show how much he appreciates him. Wanted to show it because he can’t say it outright.

Tim says, “I like this, seriously. Thanks for remembering I talked about it. That’s– people don’t usually listen to me like that.”

“Oh.” Jason pulls at his earlobe. “Well. Good, then.”

Tim clears his throat. “Okay.”

He turns to leave, but Jason says, “Hey, are you…”

Are you okay?

he wants to ask, because Tim shouldn’t be okay today– or at least, not as okay as he’s acting– but the words get caught on the back of his tongue, weighing it down. They’re too heavy. So instead, he goes with “Are you dressing up nice for dinner tonight?”

Snorting, Tim pulls a face.

~

When they arrive at the manor that evening, Alfred opens the door and invites them inside with a warm, “Happy birthday, Master Timothy.”

“Thanks!” Tim’s smile is too wide, like it’s been all day.

“This way,” Alfred says, and leads them to one of the sitting rooms. Barbara is already there, talking with Bruce. Their conversation cuts off when they walk in.

Babs greets Tim with a smile and a hug. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever seen her hug anyone before. “Happy birthday, Tim!”

“Thanks!” There it is again, that too wide smile.

Bruce stands and nods. “Happy birthday, Tim,” he intones, more solemn than Jason remembers having heard him before.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

Dick clasps Tim by the shoulder and carefully nudges Jason so that he enters the room. Wayne Manor is just as creepy as he remembers it.

A few minutes later, Alfred announces that dinner is ready, and they head to the dining room. Jason still feels very out of place here in the long, echoing halls and rooms with twenty foot ceilings. He sits next to Tim at the table, across from Dick, who’s next to Barbara with Bruce at the head. It’s ridiculous to use a table that can easily sit two dozen, when it’s just the five of them. They’d be more comfortable at the regular sized table in the kitchen, but that’s not

proper

.

Conversation is awkward. Tim’s talking too long and too loud. Dick seems to take to heart the old saying,

if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all

, because he barely speaks to Bruce.

After dinner, they file into a different sitting room where a cake waits with white, blue, and green icing and thirteen candles already lit.

Tim grins and dutifully blows out the candles while Dick cheers. No one sings the cheesy birthday song, Jason notes.

While Alfred cuts and serves the cake, everyone else brings out the gifts they brought. Tim first opens the bag Barbara hands over and pulls out socks, underwear, a toothbrush, shampoo, four sticks of deodorant, shaving cream, and a razor.

She says, “I know you tend to forget you’re a human being with basic hygiene needs, so I got you some necessities.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Socks, Babs? Really?”

“You can’t tell me he doesn't have a hole in his sock right now. Doesn’t matter how rich he is, he’s a teenage boy.”

Tim shrugs in agreement.

“Fair enough,” Dick says. “But I think the razor is a little premature.”

Tim clutches the shaving kit to his chest. “Hey! I might need it soon.”

“Jason doesn’t even shave yet,” Dick argues.

“Well maybe he should!”

Babs leans forward, squinting at Jason’s face, and hums, considering. “Yeah, I think I’ll buy you the same thing for your birthday. It’s coming up soon, right?”

Rubbing a finger over the few fuzzy hairs on his upper lip (since when does he have hair there?), Jason nods. “Next month. But you don’t have to get me a present.”

“Of course I’m going to get you something,” she replies breezily.

Dick offers up his gift next, a new pair of sneakers that Tim deems “rad.”

There’s a large box on the floor by Bruce’s armchair and he lifts it into the coffee table. “Here you are, son. Happy birthday.”

Tim unwraps it and finds an Atari gaming system. “All right!” he crows.

“I didn’t know which games you’d like, so I just bought all the popular ones,” Bruce tells him.

Inspecting the game titles, Tim assures him, “These are great!”

“And there’s a part two.” Bruce stands. “Come on, I want to talk to you about something.”

Tim trails after him out of the room.

Jason watches them go.

So does Dick, a frown appearing on his face.

“Have you seen Wally recently?” Barbara asks, drawing Dick’s attention.

“No. We talk on the phone occasionally, and we’ve made plans a few times, but... Something always comes up,” he sighs. “Between my job and the boys, and his job and– and the other stuff he does, we just haven’t had time.”

“You’re allowed to take a night off, you know. And I’m sure Wally can find someone to cover Central City for one day.”

Jason’s only half listening, picking at his cake and watching the doorway. He can’t help but feel on edge, like something’s about to happen. Everyone is acting weird tonight, talking around an elephant in the room he can’t see, and he doesn’t know Bruce well enough to trust him alone with Tim.

It feels like forever has passed before Bruce walks back into the room. He sits down and sips his coffee.

Tim hasn’t come back.

Setting his plate on a side table, Jason jumps up from the couch and goes out into the hall with a muttered

excuse me

because Alfred’s watching. He finds Tim a little ways down, slumped against the wall, face drawn into a deep frown with his unfocused gaze pointed at the opposite wall.

“Tim?” Jason approaches carefully when what he really wants to do is reach out and grab him tight. “Hey– Tim, hey, what did he do?”

There has to be something. This isn’t… this isn’t something that Tim just

does

.

“What?” His eyes drift over to Jason. “Nothing, it’s just. He asked me to–” He lets out a strangled noise, scowling at the floor.

“He asked you to what?” Jason demands, fists curling tight. The world freezes in that moment. The dust in the air around them stops and holds, and he’s terrified for the second arm on the clock to finally click forward because that one second, one word from Tim’s mouth, will change everything. In that instant, he realises exactly what he would do, how far he’s willing to go to protect Tim. He forces a sharp breath in, just enough to ask, “What did he do to you?”

Tim looks up and meets his eyes, and he sees confusion, then understanding. Sees him realising exactly what Jason would do for him, and this, here, is another frozen moment. They’re suspended, like the dust in the air between them, in this space that is only theirs. Right here and right now, it’s only Tim and Jason and anything said here will be Tim’s and will be Jason’s and nobody else’s.

Yesterday, Barbara said that the only way to know what someone is thinking is by talking to them, but right now Tim and Jason are understanding each other perfectly. So when Tim says, “N-no, Jason, he didn’t– he didn’t hurt me or anything,” he believes him.

The clock ticks over.

Jason exhales.

“He talked to me about something I already told him no to, before.” And he can probably see the question forming behind Jason’s lips because he says, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“I… I want to go home now.” His voice is small, unlike it’s been all day. Closer to what Jason had been expecting, only now that he’s hearing it, he wishes he wasn’t.

He nods. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go home.” He reaches out and tugs gently on Tim’s shirt. They walk back to the room where the adults still are and he plants Tim just outside the door. “Wait here.”

Walking straight to Dick, he avoids looking at Bruce because he doesn’t think he can control what he would do or say to the man at this moment. “We need to go.”

Dick glances around. “Where’s Tim?”

Gathering up the scattered gifts, he replies, “In the hall. It’s time to leave.”

Dick must pick up on the seriousness of his tone, as well as the fact that he never makes demands like this, because he immediately rises and turns on Bruce. “What did you do?”

“I only spoke with him,” Bruce answers.

“What did you talk about?” Dick barks, his voice dangerous.

The kind of dangerous that has Jason freezing in place, arms full of presents. The kind of dangerous that his legs think they need to be running away from. He doesn’t run. But he does walk away. He walks back out to Tim.

As he leaves the room, he hears Barbara warn, “Dick. Now’s not the time.”

Tim looks up, sees what he’s holding. “Oh right. Thanks.”

Dick storms out into the hall, heading for the front door, and the boys follow wordlessly.

When they get into the car, Dick grips the steering wheel tightly. “Tim, what happened?”

Tim doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head, looks at Jason, then curls up in the backseat, which he’d taken without protest.

They’re all tense over the long drive home, stiff and quiet. Jason wonders what the hell it was that Bruce said to Tim. Maybe it has to do with that elephant everyone was talking around. Whatever it was, it’s still upsetting him because all he does is look out the window the entire silent drive.

The second the apartment door clicks shut behind them, Dick asks again, “What happened?”

Tim’s already halfway to the bedroom, having left his presents in the living room in a messy pile. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Tim,” he snaps. “Stop!”

He does, though he keeps his back to them and stays quiet.

“I need you to tell me what's wrong so I can help.”

“You don’t want to help, you just want to be mad at Bruce.”

“Dammit, Tim! Tell me!”

“He tried to give me the suit, alright?” he yells, whirling around, voice cracking. “He invited me back! To the house, to the– to everything. He asked me to come back.”

Jason’s breath catches in his throat. Tim… going back to live with Bruce. Leaving him and living with someone who– well, he doesn’t know the whole story, but he knows there’s a reason Tim left in the first place.

“He

what?

” Dick bellows. “That

motherfucking

– you’re not doing it! I’m not letting you go back!”

“Not

letting me?

It’s my decision!”

“You’re staying right here, and if he tries to take you, I’ll beat the goddamn shit out of him!” Every line of Dick’s body is screaming with rage.

His booming voice echoes in the small apartment, echoes in Jason’s brain. There’s screaming and yelling bouncing around the inside of his skull, and not all of it is Dick anymore. Some of it is his dad, his dad yelling at him, and his mom yelling at his dad, and his dad yelling back at his mom, and then–

He doesn’t realise he’s backing up until he hits the front door, head smacking off the wood loudly enough for Tim and Dick to both turn at the noise.

Dick is a good man. Dick is a

good man.

He

won’t

hurt him. He hasn’t before and he won’t now, it’s fine, it’s okay, it’s–

Jason’s hand fumbles for the door handle and twists it open.

Dick takes one step forward. “Jay–”

And then he’s running out of the apartment, feet slapping down the hall.

He hears Dick coming after him. “Jason, wait! Please!”

But he can’t wait, he can’t stop, he

can’t

–

He has just enough of a head start that he can open the elevator door and barrel inside, slamming the door shut button so it closes on Dick’s broken expression.

His heavy breathing is so loud in this little space. He tingles all the way down to his toes with adrenaline. The elevator drops a floor, and Jason has no idea where he’s gonna go when it reaches the ground, but he can’t be near Dick right now. He can’t be near the anger, and

danger, warning, bad things are coming, get out now–

He hates that he’s equating Dick Grayson to Willis Todd. They should never be held in the same category. But back in the apartment, it felt like he was a little kid all over again, taking the shit from his dad all over again. He knows– he

knows

Dick isn’t like that. Dick is

good.

Dick is

safe.

He’s had five months to learn that, and after those five months, he trusts Dick more than any other man he’s ever known.

It was instinctual, running away. It was like a switch turned his brain off and his body went into self-defense mode; fight or flight. Jason always thought he was a fighter. Maybe that’s only because flight was never an option before... Before.

When running away from danger meant leaving his mom behind to face it alone.

Oh fuck.

Tim. He left Tim behind. With Dick’s anger.

A black hole opens up in the middle of Jason’s chest, a second rush of panic.

He needs to go back. He needs to get Tim, even if that means going back to where Dick is.

He knows Tim is safe. He

knows it

.

But what he

knows

doesn’t seem to matter at all anymore.

There’s a ding, and then the elevator doors are sliding open. Jason is about to punch the button for their floor and ride back up, but freezes when he sees Tim and Dick standing in the lobby.

Taking a deep breath, he forces one foot forward and then the other. The terrified little boy inside is screaming to go wherever Dick isn’t, but he shuts that part up because he needs to be wherever Tim is.

So he walks out into the lobby and plants himself beside Tim. He looks him up and down, checking to make sure he’s okay, and wraps his arms around himself to keep from grabbing onto him because that would be weird.

Tim rests a hand on his back, and Jason breathes a little easier.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick says, moving as far away as he can get in the small lobby, holding out his hands like Jason is some wild animal. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I’m sorry I scared you. I promise, I won't hurt you.”

He can’t make himself relax and say that it’s okay, or that he feels completely safe and comfortable right now, because it’s not, and he doesn’t. He can feel himself shaking and just hopes he won’t get sick.

He’s so tired of feeling this way. He’s tired of being scared and anxious, and reacting the way he does. He didn’t used to be like this before Dick found him. He used to be able to hold himself together, and these past few months have felt like he’s falling apart, one piece at a time.

Whenever he’s worried, his structural integrity weakens. Every time he panics, a huge tear is opened up and bits of him fall out. If that had happened in front of his dad, Willis would have pulled him apart even more, so he never let it. If his mom knew how much he was hurting, it would have hurt her, so he never let her see.

He held himself together with duct tape and love, as well as a mean face with spite tossed in for good measure. It wasn’t until after he moved in with Tim and Dick that he felt the noose loosen a notch. He felt like he could relax a tiny bit, and put away his mean face and peel away some of the tape. That’s when he started to crack and chip off.

He’s tired. He’s tired of trying to keep himself together and it not working anyway. He thought he was doing so well. He hasn’t hit a bad point like this since he thought he saw his dad and that was three months ago. He’s been feeling so much better lately, but it only took a few shouted words to have him panicking and losing himself again. It feels like there will never be a day where he won’t have to worry about this, and that thought is exhausting.

Slowly, Dick lowers his hands. “Can we go back upstairs and talk about all of this?”

Rubbing up and down Jason’s back, Tim says into his ear, “It’s okay if you need more time. I’m right here.”

Jason closes his eyes for a long moment and then shuffles forward to press the call button. The doors immediately slide open and they file inside. He finds his voice enough to ask, “How did you get down here so fast?” as if that’s what’s important right now.

“Fire escape.”

“You… ran down the fire escape and beat the elevator from fifteen floors up?” Jason asks incredulously.

Tim, standing close enough that their shoulders brush, grins. “Impressive, right?”

The corner of Dick’s mouth quirks up, and it’s not a laugh or even a smile, but it is a release of tension in the tight, angry lines around his mouth.

They spend the ride up in silence, but it’s not so strained.

Inside the apartment, everyone falls into a seat with a collective, exhausted sigh. Dick goes to his recliner and Tim the couch. Jason sits on the floor, leaning against Tim’s legs. It’s more direct, prolonged contact than the two of them usually have, but he feels like it’s okay since Tim was touching him downstairs. And Jason really needs it right now.

Dick speaks first. “I’m sorry, Jason. I feel terrible. I can’t– I can’t even promise that I’ll never get mad again, but I’m going to try as hard as I can to control how I act when I’m mad. I don’t ever want to be the reason you feel unsafe. I don’t want to put you through that again.”

He looks so heartbroken. Something Jason’s dad never did.

“I know,” he replies, because he does and he did the whole time and maybe… maybe what he

knows

does matter. Maybe he can listen to his brain again.

Some of the tension drops from Dick’s shoulders. “Okay, good. Thank you. Are you okay?”

Jason tilts his head to the side, resting his temple on Tim’s knee. “Yeah, I think so.”

He still feels unsettled, but he’s not so scared anymore. And he wants to curl up in his bed but not out of embarrassment or shame; Tim and Dick have helped him through some of his worst moments and he doesn’t feel the need to hide from them.

“Good. Let me know if that changes. Now, Tim–”

“I’m not gonna live with Bruce,” Tim interrupts, “but I want it to be

my

decision.”

“What happens if you change your mind?” Dick asks, clearly trying to keep his voice calm. “You can’t expect me to just give up without a fight and let you go back there.”

“You just have to trust that it won’t get to that point. I don’t...” Jason feels tentative fingers in his hair and very purposefully keeps still, letting Tim touch. He closes his eyes. “Bruce still needs someone, but it doesn’t have to be me. I think I’m needed here more. I

want

to be here.”

There’s a long beat of silence, and then he hears Dick stand up. “Okay. It’s late, boys. You should go to bed.”

Jason doesn’t want to go to bed because that would mean Tim pulling his hand away.

“I think,” Tim says softly, “we’ll just watch TV for a little while first.”

“That’s fine, just don’t stay up too late. Good night.”

Dick’s door shuts.

A second later, he feels Tim lean over to pick up the remote, and the TV clicks on.

Tim’s fingernails run lightly across his scalp.

Eventually, he falls asleep to the low sound of a sitcom audience laughing.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“It’s too hot for this. And I don’t even know what this is ,” Tim complains, but he lets Jason lead him through Robinson Park anyway.
“It’ll be fine once we find a good shady spot,” Jason says as they pass a few joggers, parents with strollers, and hobos on benches. Eventually, he picks a picnic table next to a huge oak that blocks the sun and they sit. He glances around. “Poison Ivy is locked up right now, right?”Tim looks around the park too. It’s been a while since he’s been here during the day. Back before everything, he spent a lot of his summers here– a whole three months without any nonsense getting in the way of what really mattered: climbing trees, riding his skateboard, practicing slingshot. Eating ice cream before it melted onto his fingers. And reading everything he could get his hands on about Batman and Robin . Doing whatever he wanted because there was no one to tell him not to. He loved it. He thought there wasn’t anything better than a summertime with your folks away in Europe.
Now, he’d give up all of his summers to have his parents back.
The last time he came to Robinson Park was when he and Batman apprehended Poison Ivy, which is how he can be certain when he says, “You probably should’ve asked that before we took the bus all the way here, but yeah. She is.”
“Cool.” Biting his lip, Jason sets a paper bag on the table. He’s been carrying it the whole way over here; he was gone from the apartment when Tim woke up and came back with this bag, demanding Tim put on shoes and go on a trip with him. “It’s a day late, but… Yesterday kinda sucked. So, here. Happy birthday.”
Tim frowns. “You already got me a present.”“This isn’t– just open it. It’s not a big thing.”
He unfolds the top of the bag and looks inside. “A donut?”
“It.” Jason hesitates. “It’s like a tradition. Sorry, it’s stupid, I just thought… I don’t know.”
“It’s not stupid,” Tim says, reaching inside and taking out the pink frosted donut. It really is hot outside and Jason’s been carrying it around for a while, so the icing sticks to the thin wax paper sheet it’s folded in. He licks it off. “Ooh, there’s sprinkles! Nice.”
He takes a bite and smiles.
Jason smiles back at him, a little happy and a little sad. “My mom always got me a birthday donut.”
“That sounds nice.” It sounds like a big deal. Something that was just between Jason and his mom, and now he’s sharing it with him.
“It was. She liked to do nice things for me. She felt bad about being high or drunk so much, and us being poor, and my dad being a bastard, so she’d try to make it up to me. Until she got really sick. Then she couldn’t do anything.”Tim sets the pastry down on top of the paper bag. It’s too sweet right now, sticking to the roof of his mouth. “How long was she sick?”“Over a year. I found her food and stuff– kept her warm, and alive…” Jason sounds proud, but then his voice gets very small. “As long as I could.”Tim doesn’t know what to do with this. Jason has only mentioned his mom three times before and never more than a few words. “Why are you telling me all of this?”Picking at the tabletop, he says, “I guess… I wanna be able to talk about it. I want to be able to talk about how sad and angry I am, or how scared I get, because I’ve never been able to before. I thought that was okay and I could just deal with it, but I obviously can’t because it’s not going away.” He glances up briefly. “And I want you to know you can talk about your parents, or whatever. With me. Dick keeps saying we need to talk about what’s upsetting us. I think he might be right.”
Tim sighs. Dick probably is right. He’s right about a lot of things, even when Tim can’t see it until later. Bruce never talks about his problems, does he? And look where that’s got him: cut off from the world, and with a son that hates him. Sure, Batman does a lot of great things, and Bruce Wayne has a good heart, but he’s a very sad man. He has so much hurt inside that he keeps locked up tight.
Tim has hurt inside. He doesn’t want to keep it forever.
A bee gets too curious about his yellow shirt sleeve and he shoos it away. His fingers tremble, just slightly. He’s faced guns and giant, thorny vines, all with a steady hand, but this, talking about personal, emotional stuff, this is what makes him nervous.
He cracks a grin.
“Oh, I see. This is a bribery donut, huh? You fill me up with sugar and I spill all of my secrets?” Jason’s eyebrows draw together in offense, in irritation, and Tim instantly knows that was the wrong thing to say. He’s gotten better at not saying asshole things because he’s become more aware of how words affect Jason, but right now he’s uncomfortable and it slipped out. “Hey, no, I didn’t mean that. This is a birthday donut and that’s really nice. I’m sorry.”
Jason gives a little shrug. “You were just joking.”
Tim licks his lip. It tastes like artificial strawberry, his favorite. “I think you’re right, that Dick might be right.”“Yeah?” Jason finally meets his eyes.
“It sounds… honestly, it sounds awkward as hell,” he says, and Jason laughs. “But it’s worth a shot.”
It sounds awkward and hard and there are things that Tim can’t talk about– everything to do with being Robin– but it sounds better than stewing in all of his frustrations and sad memories. And he wants Jason to tell him everything he’s feeling. He wants to know every time Jason gets mad or sad, and listen to what he’s thinking, and help make it better. He wants Jason to do that for him too. But mostly he wants to do that for Jason.“Why bring me all the way out here?” Tim asks, picking up his donut again and waving it at the park around them.
Jason leans forward, elbows on the table. There’s a drop of sweat slowly running down the side of his face. “Would you really wanna have this conversation with Dick in the next room?”
He takes a huge bite. “Fair point.”
They don’t talk about their parents. They don’t talk about anything, really, for the rest of the day. They walk around the park and then ride the bus home where Jason then takes his final biology test, which Dick grades and marks as passed with a big, proud smile.
~It doesn’t come out all at once.The next week, Tim unpacks the photo album he hasn’t looked at in nine months. On the first page is the shot from that day at the circus of him as a little boy sitting on Dick’s knee, their parents standing just behind. Dick looks so happy in his bright red and green Flying Graysons outfit, and Tim looks so happy staring up at him. After that is a handful of pictures of his mom and dad on their trips, and two family portraits with the three of them together.
He takes out the first picture and the most recent family portrait from when he was ten, and sets them gently on top of the dresser. He’ll go out later and pick up some frames to put them in so he can display them out in the open, in his and Jason’s shared space.
Maybe Jason will ask about them. Maybe Tim will find the courage to bring it up himself.
He has a seperate photo album, one filled with grainy shots of Batman and Robin. At the end of that one are a few pictures of Jason taking the wheels off the Batmobile. On the very last page is one of Tim’s favorites: Batman, standing next to his car with only one wheel left hanging on, throwing his head back, and laughing. Right there in the dirty alley, on the anniversary of his parents’ death, Batman laughed. And Tim wouldn’t have missed that shot for the world.
The next and last photo in the book are ones of Batman turned to the side, looking right at the camera.
Those, he can’t show Jason.He remembers what happened after that, sitting there in the passenger seat of the Batmobile, clutching his camera between sweaty hands as Batman drove him home. He wasn’t scared– he knew Mr. Wayne wouldn’t hurt him. He only hurt bad guys. And Tim wasn’t going to get in any trouble because his parents weren’t home anyway. He was just so excited. After years of following Batman and Robin around, watching through his lens, he was actually talking to him!After that he stopped photographing Batman. Why take pictures when you’re living it?
Tim packs away his photo albums, sliding them under the bed.
A few days later, a small, framed photograph shows up on Jason’s side of the dresser, across from the two frames Tim set up.
Tim glances at it as he grabs his clothes to take with him into the bathroom for after his shower.
From the beginning, he and Jason have had an unspoken agreement to not get undressed in their bedroom, neither one comfortable changing in front of a stranger. Tim wouldn’t have a problem with it now that they’re closer, but Jason would.
They haven’t talked about it, but he just knows. Jason has very strict boundaries about personal space and privacy, and it’s only been recently that he’s started to let Tim touch him. Up until two weeks ago, it was only ever welcome when Jason was very upset or out of necessity. However, since that night Tim played with his hair, Jason has been not shifting away from him, and sitting closer on the couch, and even brushing against him in small ways.It’s nice. Jason probably hasn’t had many people he felt comfortable touching, at least not since his mom died. Tim hasn’t either, but his mom did hug him sometimes, and Bruce used to ruffle his hair, and Dick is a pretty tactile person.
But Jason doesn’t let Dick come within a foot of him.
If Tim is the only one Jason can find comfort in, he’s happy to be that person.
Tim looks at the photograph, carefully preserved under cracked but polished glass. He didn’t see Jason put it there, but it had to have been him. There’s only one person the woman in the picture could be; Jason’s mom.
It’s two days later that the photos are addressed. At least, one of them is. The easiest one.
Jason is making soup, chopping vegetables while Tim helps– watches– when he asks, “So you and Dick have known each other for a long time, huh?”
“I guess,” Tim mumbles.
Jason dumps a pile of carrot pieces in the pot. “You look really young in that picture. You must have known him most of your life.”“Oh. I mean, I met him then, but we didn’t actually know each other. I didn’t see him again until I was eleven.” Didn’t see him as Dick, that is. Tim saw him plenty as Robin, though Dick didn’t know that at the time.
Jason pauses. “Why did–”
He cuts himself off. When he doesn’t follow up with anything, Tim pokes him in the side, making him flinch.“Hey!” he protests. “I’m wielding a knife!”
“What were you going to say? ‘Why did’ what?”
“Nothing, I don’t need to know.”
“What is it?” Tim insists. “We’re supposed to talk to each other now, right?”Carefully, Jason says, “Your parents died after you turned twelve.” He glances up for confirmation and Tim gives a sharp nod. “So, assuming you know Dick through Bruce Wayne, why did you meet Dick when you were eleven? That’s before Bruce took you in.”Tim is surprised and impressed that Jason caught that. But he shouldn’t be, really, because Jason is smart and observant. “Bruce was friends with my parents,” he explains, which isn’t a complete lie. They did know each other, were casual acquaintances in the same circles.“Were they super rich or something?” Jason asks wryly.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Tim admits. “Not as rich as Bruce, but they owned a company.”
“That makes so much sense.”“What? Why?”Jason shakes his head. “There’s two types of people in the world, Timmy. Those who know how to get the last of the toothpaste out of the tube, and those who don’t.”“What the hell are you talking about?” Tim asks with a bewildered laugh.
“The fact that you don’t even think about how you wasted that bit of toothpaste tells me you grew up with money. I mean, you don’t even know what leftovers soup is!”
“I do now! And I still say that’s dangerous. You can’t just throw everything that’s about to go bad in a pot and not get sick from it some day.”
“You can if you have an iron stomach forged from leftovers soup. And you don’t put in anything that’s actually bad ,” Jason argues. “Don’t worry, I’ll toughen you up.”
He winks and Tim laughs, a ridiculous sounding thing that comes with a weird tightening sensation in his gut. Maybe it’s preparing itself for the soup.
They eat dinner– it’s delicious, somehow, as always– with Dick before he leaves for his shift. They watch TV while Jason does some schoolwork. They get dressed for bed, taking turns in the bathroom. When Tim walks into the bedroom, Jason is settling down in the top bunk.
He pauses, looking at the pictures. “What’s her name?” he asks, taking a chance.After a long moment of quiet, Tim turns to see Jason peeking over the guardrail. Softly, he answers, “Catherine.”
Tim turns off the light and slides under the covers. “Goodnight, Jason.”
“Goodnight, Tim.”“Goodnight, Catherine.”There’s a small huff of a laugh and then, “Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Drake.”“Jack and Janet,” Tim supplies.
“Goodnight, Jack and Janet.”The bed creaks overhead as Jason rolls over. “Why don’t you have a J name too?”“I think I almost did,” Tim whispers, even though Dick isn’t home and there’s no one to worry about disturbing. “My middle name is Jackson.”
“We could have been a set,” Jason mumbles.
Tim doesn’t know if Jason means that in the way Jack and Janet were a set, or like they could be in the same family with all J names. Like brothers.
He still doesn’t think of Jason as his brother. It’s not because they aren’t close enough, it’s just… Well, he’s never had a real brother before, but he imagines it’s like what he has with Dick. He feels like Dick is his brother. And that’s not what he feels for Jason.
Tim’s never really had a best friend before either, so he figures that’s what Jason is.
~The photos have been out in the open for nearly two weeks when one day Tim wakes up, sees all of the people in their frames, and starts to cry.
They’re all dead. His parents, Dick’s parents, Jason’s mom. They’re all staring back at him from across the room and Tim can feel it like burning on his skin.
He looks away, shoves his face into the pillow, but they’re still there in the black of his eyelids. He sees his parents, ragged and dirty, gasping for air as the poison overtakes them. He sees the Graysons falling, falling, reaching up toward their son while Dick stares down at them in horror, his fingers grasping at empty air. He sees Jason carefully tending to his mother, wrapping her in any ratty blanket he can find, offering her his portion of food, until one day she doesn’t wake up.
And it doesn’t matter that he didn’t actually see any of this, that he wasn’t there when his parents drank that water, that he’d turned away when the line snapped, that he didn’t witness Catherine Todd’s death. His mind conjures up image after image anyway. And then it’s not just them but every person he ever saw hurting or dying in those few months he was Robin. Every person he didn’t get to in time. Every person injured or traumatised by the Joker, or mob bosses, or their own families.
They cycle through his brain like a rolodex of misery, pleading for help, and Tim wasn’t good enough or fast enough to give it to them.
He tells himself to push it all away like he always does, and pulls the pillow closer and closer until he can hardly breathe. If he focuses on that, on the straining in his lungs, he won’t think so much about them .
The bed frame rocks, and then a hand rests on his shoulder.
“Tim.”
“I’m fine,” he gasps, voice cracked and muffled and not very believable at all. He allows Jason to tug him up into a sitting position, the pillow falling to his lap. He stares down at his hands. It’s not fully light outside, and early morning grey slithers into their bedroom through the one window, casting his skin a sickly, pale color. A deathly color.
Jason fits himself beside him and Tim realises it’s the first time he’s done that, sat on Tim’s bed– or even touched it.
“I think you’re not fine,” Jason says, and it’s quiet and gentle, but it cuts into Tim like a knife. He hasn’t heard that. It’s only been it’s okay and it’ll be okay and everything's fine and some of that was from Dick, trying to comfort him, but most of it was from himself, desperate to believe it.
But Jason’s gone and just said the truth out loud and, in that one second, destroyed the veil of denial Tim has been shielding himself with.
He’s not fine. None of this is fine. Bruce and Dick and Jason and everyone is hurting and Tim feels all of it.
Turning, he pushes his face against Jason’s chest, and cries.
For the first time, he doesn’t try to stop or muffle it. It’s loud, and it’s ugly, and he grabs on to whatever part of Jason is nearby, one hand fisting his shirt and the other clutching his thigh. Jason wraps his arms around him and holds tight, cupping the back of his head while Tim soaks his shirt with tears.
He feels surrounded. Safe. Like he can let the black hole in his chest open up, and it won’t suck him in, because Jason is there to hold him in place.
After a while, he’s not really crying anymore, just feels swollen and thick and heavy. He’s not holding himself up at all, Jason bearing his weight.
Jason hasn’t said a word and Tim’s grateful.
He doesn’t know what to do now. He’s not ready to sit up, or get dressed, or eat breakfast, or be a person yet. All he wants to do is lie back down, but he can’t make himself pull away from the warmth wrapped around him. He can’t even look at Jason. What is he thinking? What does he think of him now that he’s seen him like this?
Tim doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, so he does what he wants to do.
Keeping his grip tight, he tilts back, dragging Jason down with him on the bed. There’s some hesitation, some awkward maneuvering, but then they’re on their sides comfortably tangled up around each other, Tim’s face still hidden against Jason’s chest.
He closes his eyes. Breathes...
...Then wakes up to Jason carefully sliding out from beneath him. He blinks and frowns.
Jason catches it, quickly whispering, “Sorry, go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.”
He slips off the bed, and Tim hears his footsteps down the hall, then the bathroom door clicking shut. He rolls over, facing the room.
A minute later, Jason’s back, pausing when he sees Tim looking at him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “had to pee so bad.”
He hums, too worn out for words.
Jason is still standing in the middle of the room like he doesn’t know what’s expected of him.
Tim doesn’t know either. This is all really weird, and he feels like he’s been cut open and drained. But maybe it’s not a terrible kind of weird, and maybe the parts that were drained out were the bad ones.
The sky outside isn’t grey anymore.
“Thanks,” Tim manages, but that’s really not enough.
Jason nods. “Wanna talk about it?”He looks so uncomfortable, but he’s here, and he’s willing to listen, and he wants to help.
“Yeah.” Tim glances at the door. Dick is out there, somewhere in the apartment. “No.”
Like he’s read his mind, Jason asks, “Wanna go to the park?”
“Too many people,” he answers, shaking his head. But he has an idea. “You okay with heights?”
Jason looks skeptical, but says, “Sure.”
~Tim helps steady Jason as he pulls himself up and over the top of the fire escape onto the roof of their apartment building. Jason turns, taking in the view. It’s not much higher than their balcony, since they live on the top floor, but up here they can see further, uninterrupted by the neighboring buildings. It’s an open space and there’s no one around to hear them.
“Nice,” Jason says. The wind ruffles his hair and his shirt, which Tim realises is actually his. He doesn’t think Jason would have gone through his drawers and borrowed his clothes, so it probably got mixed up in the laundry. He doesn’t mind.
Moving away from the edge, they sit on the hard concrete. Tim would sit with his legs dangling off the side of the roof like he did when he was Robin, but he doesn’t have a line in case he falls. It’s been a long time since he played with a drop like that, and he doesn’t know if Jason ever has.
From his pocket, Jason pulls out a pack of Poptarts that he tosses to Tim, and a bag of grapes for himself. Tim thinks he would have a mug of tea too, if he could carry it up here comfortably.
“So,” Jason says, leading.
Tim fiddles with the plastic wrapper in his hands. While he appreciates the gesture, he doesn’t think he can eat right now. There’s so much he wants to say, but too much of it is tied into Batman. He tries to sort out everything in his mind into two categories: normal person shit, and Robin shit, figuring what he can tell Jason and what he can’t.
It feels pointless to try though. Will it really help to offer up some abbreviated version? Some half-truth?He sighs. “I want to tell you but I can’t.”“Is it because you were Robin?”
Tim looks over at Jason, jaw dropping. “What?”
Jason pops a grape in his mouth. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
When Tim just stares at him he explains, “Bruce Wayne is Batman, right? Super rich guy who can afford all of Batman’s tech and stuff. Dick took me to stay with him those first few days, so he must be a good guy, but he won’t let me or you live with him, so he must do something Dick doesn’t like. Like taking kids with him to fight crime. I mean, there’s other stuff it could be, but Dick is crazy pissed at Bruce for letting you get hurt, like it was his fault.”Tim opens his mouth to object– though he’s not sure what that objection would be– but Jason continues, ticking off points with his fingers.
“You broke your arm at the end of December, same time people stopped seeing Robin around. You know how to fight, break into buildings, and hack computers. You and Dick were able to jump down the fire escape and beat the elevator to the lobby without even breaking a sweat. Dick was the first Robin, right? He does all that flipping and jumping stuff. On your birthday, you said Bruce tried to give you back ‘the suit’, which I’m guessing is the Robin outfit.”
He casually eats more grapes, as if he hasn’t just unravelled one of the biggest secrets in the world. It kind of reminds Tim of when he first explained to Bruce how he figured it out.
Although, he recalls being more apprehensive about it, standing there in Bruce Wayne’s foyer, explaining how he was there to help. How he knew Batman didn’t have a partner anymore and how Batman needs a Robin , and, well, Tim already knew who he was and could be super stealthy– Batman hadn’t noticed him following around all those years after all– until the night before. So Tim should just be Robin. Who else would watch Batman’s back?
“You really need to stop underestimating me,” says Jason.
He’s right. Tim forgets how smart he is, even after watching him fly through his schoolwork, after seeing how quickly he picked up the computer skills Tim taught him, after knowing how hard it must have been for Jason to take care of his mother and himself for so long.
There’s still this small part of his brain that sells Jason short because of where he’s from and how he grew up. Tim’s been working hard not to think that way because it’s awful, but it’s still there sometimes.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re really smart, and I guess Dick and I haven’t been that subtle, have we?”Jason gives a crooked smile. “Not really, no.”“I saw you,” he says because he can now. Because Jason knows and Tim can talk about anything he wants and this seems like the easiest place to start. “The night you tried to steal the tires off the Batmobile. I was there.”
He enjoys the looks of surprise on Jason’s face. “That’s wild. Wait, you were already Robin back then?”
“Not yet. This was right before. Actually, it’s kind of why I became Robin.” Tim opens his Poptarts and nibbles on a corner. A bird resting a few feet away looks over in interest. “I used to follow Batman around, watch him fight bad guys, and save people and stuff. That night he parked and then went around to the back of the theater. I sat on a fire escape in that alley.”
Tim had known what day it was and what Bruce was doing. He didn’t think he should watch, so he waited. “I was there when you showed up and started taking off the wheels. You were pretty fast, by the way. Impressive.”Jason grins. “Yeah, I know. Lots of practice.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “Anyway. I heard him coming back and… I didn’t want you to get caught.” He’s not sure why. Especially back then, when in his mind everyone was either a criminal or not, and if they were, then they should be found and prosecuted. That’s just the way it should be. Bad people break the law and when you break the law you go to jail.
But that night, watching this kid his own age with dirt and oil smudged on his face, his too-thin wrists working so hard to loosen the bolts on the tires… he couldn’t find it in himself to let that boy go to jail. Or juvie, or whatever. He just looked like a desperate kid who’d stumbled across something that could keep him fed for a long time.
“So I kicked the railing of the fire escape. You heard it and ran off. Batman came back and saw what you’d done and–” Tim smiles. “And he laughed.”Jason’s eyes go wide. “What? He did?”“Yeah, he thought it was hilarious. I hadn’t seen him happy like that in a really long time. And the thing is, that was the anniversary of the night his parents died, behind that theater. That’s why he was there. He goes every year to leave roses. He was so sad, but. You made him laugh. It was kind of amazing.”“Oh,” Jason says, cheeks pink. “Well. That’s cool, I guess. Is that why he didn’t track me down?”
“No, he probably would have, but he heard the shutter of my camera go off. I didn’t usually take pictures so close in case he heard it, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to get the shot of him laughing. So he found me, and drove me home because he knew who I was– like I said, my parents knew Bruce– and lectured me on being out late in that neighborhood. He didn’t know I was out late all the time, everywhere he went.”
“How did that turn into you being Robin?”“I stayed up all that night thinking about him. He’d become really angry and violent. Reckless. Maybe not everyone noticed, but I did. It started after Dick left and just never got better. I’d been thinking for a while that he had been so much better off when Dick was with him. He seemed lonely and overworked when he was by himself. When I saw how you made him happier, it clicked that he needed a partner. He needed someone to pull him out of his darkness. He needed a Robin again. I went all the way to New York to try and tell Dick, but he was so angry at Bruce he didn’t care. So if Dick wasn’t going to be his partner again, I figured I could be.”
Jason tosses his last grape to the bird. “And he just gave you the suit? Just like that?”
Tim shrugs. “Pretty much. Like I said, he was lonely. He trained me for a few months, and then I was Robin. It was… it was amazing. And it was horrible.” He runs a hand through his hair. It’s soft; he hasn’t showered or put gel in it yet. “It was so cool. I got to learn so much, and save people, and be a badass. But– but then there were people I couldn’t save. I saw people get hurt and die. I saw a lot that I can’t unsee. And then my parents went on a trip to Haiti and were kidnapped. Batman went to save them, but they drank some poisoned water and... And they died.”He hasn’t actually said that out loud, ever. He hasn’t had to explain it because the people in his life already knew, were there for it, like Bruce and Dick, and Alfred and Barbara, or they read it in the newspaper, like all the kids and teachers at school. His parents were high-profile enough that the entirety of Gotham knew what had happened, thought they knew all about Tim’s life, without him ever saying a word about it.
“I thought I was okay because I was Robin, you know? You can’t hurt Robin. Dick lost his parents, but he was okay because he was Robin. Bruce was okay because he was Batman. I thought that solved everything. And I was fine, for a couple months. It wasn’t super hard to live without them because they were usually gone most of the time anyway. I was used to not having them around. I didn’t think about them a lot. I worked really hard, and solved lots of cases, and got really good at martial arts. Living with Bruce, I was always close to the cave, so I could go down and train, or work whenever I wanted. Bruce said it was good that I was channeling everything into being productive.”
But he wasn’t channeling. He was ignoring. Repressing.
“And then there was this one night just before Christmas. Batman and I were out patrolling and came across a woman being robbed by a group of thugs. They’d taken all of her shopping bags, and were starting to grab at her jewelry and fur coat. Batman and I swooped down to fight them off, but...” Tim frowns at the memory. “She didn’t even really look that much like my mom. The woman, I mean. She didn’t look like her, but when I went to push her out of the way, she looked at me and I had this thought like, I wonder if my parents will call me on Christmas Day. They almost always did. At least called. And then I remembered that they weren’t just out of the country, they were gone. They wouldn’t call me and they wouldn’t come back.“It was just for a second, but I was distracted long enough for one of the thugs to get me. He broke my arm. Batman took care of them, made sure the lady was safe, and got me back to the manor. Alfred reset my arm and put a cast on it. I felt really bad because I wouldn’t be able to go out for at least six weeks.
“When he heard what happened, Dick came back from New York. He was so mad at Bruce. I told him it was my fault, that I was the one that got distracted. But he told me it was Bruce’s fault because he’s the adult, that I was his responsibility, and he should never have had me out there in the first place. He said Bruce shouldn’t be taking care of me and that I wasn’t safe with him. Then he offered to move back to Gotham and let me live with him. I didn’t really know if I agreed with him, but it was... Nice. Nice to have someone care so much. Dick cared a lot for me, even though he didn’t even know me that well at the time. Or maybe he was just that angry at Bruce.” Tim shrugs. “I figured I wouldn’t be any help to Batman anyway, with my broken arm, so I left to live with Dick. I thought I could talk him into being okay about me being Robin while I healed, and then I would go back. But then… I got selfish. It was so nice living with Dick. I didn’t want to leave, even though I knew Bruce needed me. And then you came, and... Well.”
“Do you still feel like that?” Jason asks.
It’s not the question Tim expects and it throws him for a loop for a second. “Like what?”“Like it’s up to you to help Bruce and save people.”
“If I’m not doing everything I can to help, then what am I doing? I could be out there right now taking down Killer Croc, but instead I’m going to the arcade and watching Star Trek on Tuesday nights.”“You could be getting eaten by Killer Croc,” Jason points out. “ You’re safe now, so I’m glad you’re not out fighting a man-eating, mutant crocodile.”“I guess.” For some reason that makes Tim feel warm– warmer than the July day. Of course Jason’s happy he isn’t being eaten; it shouldn’t make him feel like he’s roasting under the sun, like he’s brittle and crumbly, sticky and sweet like the Poptart in his hand.“And…” Jason fidgets, pulling at his shirt. Tim’s shirt. “You’re helping me. You and Dick both. I know that’s not a big deal compared to fighting Killer Croc, but.”

“That is a big deal, Jason,” Tim insists. “It’s why I’m okay being here. It’s important. You’re important.”“So are you.”
Tim’s heart thumps in his chest. He’s feeling a lot of things, and it’s hard to sort through it all and see what it is. He’s still sad, but also relieved, and he’s still hurting, but also grateful. And a little embarrassed. This is the most open he and Jason have been with each other. It’s the most open Tim’s been with anyone. He’s feeling so much, like when he first woke up this morning, but it’s not crushing him anymore. But most of all he’s exhausted.“Okay,” he says with a sigh. “I think I’m done talking about all this today.”“You wanna watch TV?”“Yeah.”
When they climb down to the apartment, Tim sets everything aside, but it’s not like before when he ignored it all. He talked about it. He let himself feel it. And now he’s moving on, if only for today.
~Tim and Dick haven’t talked much the past few weeks. Or, more specifically, Dick hasn’t talked to him. Since the night of Tim’s birthday, there’s been a layer of tension between them. He said he didn’t want to be Robin again, but Dick keeps watch like he’s expecting Tim to skip out any minute, for any reason, which is totally stupid. Dick’s being stupid.
They pass each other in the living room, Dick going off to bed and Tim headed to the kitchen for a snack or maybe to sit with Jason while he does schoolwork. Dick steps wide, too wide, just so they won’t touch. As if brushing arms will make Tim freak out.
Sometimes he thinks Dick forgets who’s who, or that the same things that bother Jason don’t bother him.
So Dick makes sure not to touch him, and, in a flash of irritation, Tim sticks out his foot, tripping him.
Of course Dick catches himself, and he turns, slapping him lightly on the arm in retaliation. Then he shrinks back in a way that makes Tim think it was purely reactionary.
But now Dick looks like he’s going to apologise or something, and probably not talk to Tim at all for another week.
Tim’s had enough of this, so he punches him in the chest. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but it’s a solid hit.Dick frowns. “Tim–”
Tim pokes him in the cheek.
“What are you–”
And flicks his chin.
“What the hell, stop that!”
“You stop it,” Tim counters, feeling five years old, but not caring. He jabs at Dick’s stomach.Dick grabs him, and Tim slaps at his hands, then finds himself in a headlock. He goes for Dick’s legs again.
“Stop being a little shit!”“Stop ignoring me!”“I’m not!”“You totally are,” Tim grinds out, yanking at the arm around his neck that’s not actually doing any damage at all, just pissing him off. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks and it’s annoying. ”Finally, with strength born from the aggravation and resentment of being ignored for so long, Tim sweeps Dick’s legs out from under him and they both go crashing to the floor. They wrestle around for a solid minute, Dick usually with the upper hand.
That is, until Tim feels a splash of water on his face. He looks up to find Jason standing over them holding a cup of water, the rest of which he pours onto Dick, who squawks and jolts away.
“Both of you, stop being idiots!”
There’s a long, quiet moment of them just staring up at him, water dripping down their faces, and then Dick starts to laugh. He sprawls out on the carpet and laughs loud, eyes closed, tears forming at the corners. “Th-that was so great, Jason,” he gasps, rolling to the side, curling up.
Tim feels the edges of his lips jerk up, followed by his own bubble of laughter.
But then he notices Jason’s hand trembling and realises what that must have looked like. All Jason saw was them fighting, and– for the most part– Tim losing. For someone who’s terrified even of a raised voice, Tim realises it’s lucky all Dick got was some water to the face instead of a fist. They’re lucky Jason didn’t run away in fear again.
“Hey,” he says softly, “it’s okay.”
He means okay as in: this is nothing like what used to happen with Jason’s dad. Tim hasn’t heard the details about what that was, but he can guess. This with Dick just now, it wasn’t one-sided, it wasn’t angry– peeved, but not angry . It wasn’t real. It was just… what brothers do.Nodding shakily, Jason answers, “I know. I know. ” He takes a breath. “But you’re both still stupid. Just fucking talk to each other.”
And with that he turns and goes back to the kitchen.
Tim lets him go. Knows Jason’s okay. He’ll probably clean the counters or something while he calms down, and then he’ll be fine. He’s not mad, and he’s not truly scared. If he was, he wouldn’t be leaving Tim’s side, or leave him with Dick.
All giggled out, Dick sits up, wiping his face dry with his shirt. “I think he’s my favorite now.”“He’s definitely mine,” Tim shoots back.
Dick sighs, but he’s still smiling a little. “Guess he’s right though. There’s things I need to say to you.”“Then why didn’t you say them before? You’re the one always going on about how we need to talk, but then you just clammed up and acted like an asshole.”
“I–” he drags a hand down his face. Quietly, “The last time we talked about this, it sent Jason running out of the apartment. I wasn’t sure I could have this conversation without getting upset, and I couldn’t stand the thought of scaring him like that again.”
“But we talked about it,” Tim says. “I told you I’m not going to be Robin again.”Casting a sharp glance toward the kitchen, Dick shushes him. “Don’t say that, he could hear you.”“Oh. Right, um. He knows. He figured it out.”Dick stares at him for a minute. “Okay, we’re circling back to that later. As for you–”
“Look,” Tim interrupts, “I know you’re worried, but like I said, I’m needed here. I’m not leaving Jason. I’m good for him, and... And he’s good for me. So you can stop stressing out about this, alright? I promise.”
It’s similar to what he said weeks ago, but weeks ago he was upset– mad at Bruce for offering the suit, mad at Dick for scaring Jason. This time he’s calm, and he’s talked with Jason about everything, so there must be some sincerity in his tone and expression that wasn’t there back then.
This time, Dick’s shoulders slump in relief. “That’s good,” he says, and he pulls Tim into a hug. “That’s really good.”
When he lets go a while later, he calls out, “Jason, get in here and tell me how you figured it out!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jason hears hushed voices in the kitchen as he approaches, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t have gotten a cake?” Dick whispers. “There’s still time, I can run down to the bakery and grab one.”“Yes I’m sure! Trust me on this.”Turning the corner, he sees Tim trying to press candles into a donut.
“They won’t stay up,” he grumbles. Dick notices Jason watching and elbows him in the side. He looks up. “Oh! Um– wait just a sec,” he says, and props up the little blue one- and four-shaped candles in the hole. Grabbing a match, he lights them, then holds out the small plate.
“Happy birthday!”
Jason stares at the donut with chocolate frosting and multi-colored sprinkles, at Tim offering it to him so proudly, so excited, just like his mom used to, and feels his eyes start to burn with tears. Stepping forward, he nudges the plate out of the way and throws his arms around Tim’s shoulders, tucking his face into the curve of Tim’s neck so that Dick can’t see him.
“Oh,” Tim says softly. His arms come up to return the hold. “Are you– is this okay? Should I not have–”
“No, it’s great. Thanks.” Sniffling, he pulls back and wipes his face dry with his shirt.
Tim clears his throat. “Um. The candles are gonna melt everywhere, you should blow them out. Make a wish,” he says, lifting the plate up again.Jason closes his eyes. He doesn’t know what to wish for. He can’t ask for more than he already has. Instead, he just says thank you to whoever is listening and blows out the candles. He sets them aside and takes a bite, humming happily.
“Present time!” Dick announces, pulling out a large bag. Inside is new clothes. “You’ve been growing so much, I figured you would need these.”“Thanks, Dick.”
“My turn.” Tim hands him a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo with a little bow taped to the front.
Dick frowns. “Don’t you already have that book, Jason?”“Yeah,” he says, and then he laughs because yes, he does already have a copy. Tim knows that, and he did this on purpose because of the cassette Jason had bought for his birthday last month.
Tim laughs too, and Dick just looks between them in confusion.
~“Okay, gentlemen,” Dick says seriously, making eye contact with both boys in the bathroom mirror. There’s just enough space for the three of them to be lined up at the counter, though Tim is a little squished in the middle, bumping into Jason every time he moves. Dick holds up his razor. “Are you ready?”
Tim gives him a flat look. “It’s shaving, Dick. Not defusing a bomb, which I actually know how to do. If I can do that, I’m sure I can handle this.”“Oh yeah? Five bucks says you cut yourself at least once.”
“ Ooh, five whole dollars?” Tim says with heavy sarcasm.
“Alright fine. If you lose, you have to shave your leg hair.” He glances down and squints. “You do have leg hair, right?”
“If I win,” Tim says, pointing at Dick with a can of shaving cream, “ you have to shave your leg hair.”“Fine,” he says easily. To Jason, “You want in on this?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna bet on my ability to do something I’ve never tried before. I’m not an idiot,” he says, grinning at Tim, who rolls his eyes.
“It can’t be that hard.”“Mhm. You’ll see. First, we get our faces wet.” Dick leads them through the process step by step. Jason and Tim follow along with the razors and shaving cream Barbara had gifted them both with.
Jason is pulling the blade slowly down his left cheek when he notices Tim watching him. “What?”“You’re bigger than me.”Jason frowns, confused, glancing at their razors. “They’re the same.”
“No, not that. You. You’re taller and stuff.”“I’m a year older, I’m supposed to be bigger.”“Yeah, it’s just. You weren’t, before. You’ve grown a lot in the past few months.”
That’s true, Jason thinks, observing himself in the mirror. He hadn’t really noticed, but now that he’s standing next to Tim and comparing, he sees he has stretched up and filled out considerably since he left the streets. Regular access to food will do that, he figures. His t-shirt is pulled tight– it’s a good thing Dick got him new clothes; he’ll need to give this shirt to Tim soon.
He watches Tim watch him, eyes trailing down to Jason’s shoulders, his arms, his chest, his stomach, his–
“Ouch!” Tim sucks in a sharp breath, flinching back. He leans in close to the glass to inspect the small cut on his neck. “Crap!”
“Ha!” Dick grins, rinsing the remaining foam off his face. “Told you so.”
“I just… got distracted,” Tim mumbles, wiping away a small drop of blood. He looks at Jason, and then quickly away.
Drying his face with a hand towel, Dick’s eyes slide from Tim to Jason and freezes. “Oh shit.”
“What?” Jason asks. He leans down to get a better look at Tim’s neck. Tim stiffens. “It doesn’t look that bad.”
Dick shakes himself. “Hm? No, it’s– it’ll be fine… I hope,” he adds softly. Then, more brightly, “You know what this means? You get to shave your legs!”
Tim glares. His face is red all over.
Dick waves his hand dismissively. “Calm down. I’ve done it before, it’s not that bad.”
“If it’s not that bad, then why is it the punishment?” Jason asks.Smiling, he turns to talk over Tim’s head. “Because he still has the fragile masculinity of a teenager. He’ll hate it.”
“Hey!” Tim protests.“Am I wrong?” Dick asks, eyebrow raised.
Tim, stuck between having to admit to either a ‘fragile masculinity’ or wanting to shave his legs, glares harder and says nothing.
“When did you shave your legs?” Jason asks.
“Went undercover as a girl once. And then another time just because I wanted to.”“Really?”“Yeah, it feels kinda… nice.”
Jason looks down at his own legs, imagining them without hair. It sounds weird. Men don’t shave their legs. But then Dick just said he did, so. Maybe it wouldn’t be so weird.
It would feel nice, he supposes, to be all smooth. Smooth things feel good to touch. He might like to touch his own smooth legs, but he wouldn’t like anyone else touching. He hates the thought of other people touching him (except for Tim, now, sometimes). The only time he thought he might have his leg touched is that night Dick found him, when he’d gotten desperate enough to stand on the corner like Stacey and Connie. Stacey and Connie keep their legs shaved. They get their legs touched.
He grimaces.
“Hey, careful,” Dick says, drawing Jason’s attention to how Tim is rinsing off in a hurry and splashing water all over the counter.Tim snatches Dick’s towel and hastily rubs his cheeks dry, then tosses it and leaves the bathroom.
“Where are you going, mister? You lost a bet.”“I need to– not be here. Bye!”“You’re not gonna weasel your way out of this,” Dick calls after him.
“Later!” comes Tim’s strained reply from down the hall.
Picking up the discarded towel, Jason wipes the counter. “You think he’ll actually do it?”
Dick shakes his head. “He’ll put it off until he thinks I’ve forgotten about it. I might let it slide.”
“Hm.” Jason finishes up, feeling the newly smooth skin of his upper lip and chin, thinking about Tim’s legs if he actually does shave them. Tim would probably let him feel.
He grimaces again, not sure which thought is worse: being the one being touched, or being the one touching. Being Stacey and Connie, or being the john.
~Tim goes back to school in early September. Jason misses him during the day.
It’s strange. Jason’s gotten so used to having Tim around, having him there to listen to everything he says. Even if they’re not doing something together (which they usually are), he’s almost always in the next room.
But now there’s a whole stretch of the day, between seven and three, where he’s just not there. Instead, it’s just Jason and Dick in the mornings, and then Dick goes to bed after lunch.
Dick’s been spending a lot of time with him while Tim is at school, and Jason hopes it’s not because he’s being really obviously sad about it.He doesn’t mind when Dick plops down to watch TV with him. Or when he comes out on the balcony and asks about the book he’s reading. Or when he invites Jason to tag along to the grocery store. Or when he helps with his schoolwork. He really doesn’t mind. It’s a little uncomfortable without Tim, but it’s getting better. Dick is trying so hard. He can see that.
He sees it when Dick comes into the kitchen one morning and waits for Jason to look up from the pot he’s washing before asking, “When do you feel safe?”“What?” He pauses scrubbing.“When are you comfortable? What makes you happy?”
“Um…” Sitting next to Tim on the couch, close enough to feel his warmth as they bicker over what show to watch. Reading a book in his bed with Tim in the bottom bunk listening to music, tapping his foot against the bedpost slightly out of time with the beat. Or, that one time Jason didn’t make it up the ladder and he read on Tim’s bed. He likes walking around the city with Tim skateboarding next to him.
He likes being at the library. He feels good around Barbara.
He liked last Friday when he and Tim and Dick went and saw a movie together. He likes when Dick grades his tests and smiles so wide, telling him what a great job he’s doing. He likes knowing Dick is nearby.He’s happy and comfortable when the three of them sit down to eat dinner together. Watching them eat the food he made is nice.
Jason doesn’t know how to say all of this out loud, at least not to Dick. He could maybe say it to Tim.“There’s not a wrong answer,” Dick says softly.
“I. I’m happy with Tim. And you, and Babs. You know.” He shrugs.Dick smiles. “That’s good. I just… You’re only socializing with three people, and you spend so much of your time in the house reading or doing schoolwork. Is there anything else you want to be doing? You could take some piano lessons, or gymnastics classes.”
The thought of him actually sitting down at a nice piano or flipping around a room in a leotard makes him laugh a little. “You don’t need to worry about shit like that, Dick. I’m fine. You’ve already–”
“I know I’ve already,” he cuts in. “That doesn’t mean I can’t do more. I want to. I just want to make sure… Is this enough?” Is it enough? As if it’s not more than he’s ever had before. Not that Tim and Barbara and Dick are worth more than his mom, but just being able to sleep at night and eat whenever he wants and feel safe … That’s something his mom couldn’t give him.
Although, it wasn’t all terrible. It’s important to him to remember that. To remember all the little things his mom did for him, and spending time with Señora Ovila, and finding busted machines people had thrown out and fixing them up to sell. The pride that came with taking something that had been broken and making it work again.
“What are you thinking about?” Dick asks. “You look like there might actually be something you want, for once.”
“Well, I like– um. Working on TVs or radios or whatever. Or cars.”Dick’s lips quirk up. “When you were stealing parts off them?”“Yeah. It’s not the stealing I liked, just working with cars. I mean, I never really got to fix a car, I was usually… you know. Doing the opposite.”

“Okay…” Dick crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowing as he thinks out loud. “So how can we let you do that sort of thing again– legally? If my car needed work, I’d let you give it a shot, but it’s running fine.”Jason blinks, surprised. He’d let him try to fix his car?
“And we don’t have anything broken around here,” Dick continues, glancing around the apartment.
“Most of the stuff I worked on wasn’t stolen,” Jason ventures. “I found it in the trash. People throw out appliances and electronics all the time.” He never understood how people could be so lazy and wasteful. Even if they don’t know how to fix something themselves, there are repair shops that do it for less than a replacement would cost, in most cases.“You want to go dumpster diving,” Dick says sceptically.
“It’s not that bad.”“It is that bad. I’m a cop and a vigilante. I’ve spent hours sifting through trash looking for evidence. But,” he says with a shrug, “if you really want to, go for it.”“Really?”
“Yeah, just be careful what you touch and clean up whatever you bring home so we don’t get some nasty disease. And keep it all in your room, I don’t want to trip over a dismantled microwave on my way to the bathroom. Do you need any tools?”“Just a few. Basic stuff.”
Dick grins. “I might be able to help you out there. Want to see something cool?”
~Twenty minutes later, Dick unlocks the door of a closed-down pet supply store in Old Gotham. It squeals when he shoves it open. Inside, the shop is dark and dusty, clearly abandoned a long time ago. There aren’t any animals, but it still smells like there are.
“I bought this place when I moved back from Blüdhaven.”“Kinda looks like you ran it into the ground,” Jason says, following him down an aisle half-filled with dog and cat toys.
“It was already like this when I got it. I never touched the storefront. All I was interested in was the basement.”
“Gotta say, that sounded super creepy.”
Laughing, Dick leads him through another heavily locked door at the back of the store where they enter a small office. There’s a desk and chair, metal filing cabinet, outdated calendar on the wall, and a worn rug in the center of the floor, the last of which Dick rolls to one side to reveal a hatch door. He yanks it up, and all Jason can see is the start of a staircase going down into darkness.
“This just keeps getting worse,” he warns. “If I didn’t trust you like I do, I’d be running.”Dick snorts. “I would hope so. Come on.”
When they reach the bottom of the steps Dick flips a switch, lighting the room.
Jason’s breath catches. “ Woah. ”
“This is where I keep all my Nightwing equipment,” Dick explains, voice echoing as he moves farther into the basement– which actually must be the combined basement spaces of several neighboring shops. Maybe even the whole building.
It’s more of a bunker, really; with thick steel paneling the ceiling, walls, and floor, it looks like a place that could withstand a bombing. On the wall to the right of the stairs is the Nightwing equipment . There are two black and blue suits on display and shelves, floor to ceiling, filled with weapons. Jason doesn’t recognise all of them, but he sees a row of those sticks Nightwing likes to use, and a large stash of those ninja star things– the ones cut into the shape of his modified bat symbol.
But his attention is really caught by the machines stationed around the room.
Dick pats the nearest one. “This is my welding machine. Over here is the lathe. Hydraulic press, CNC machine, plasma cutter…” He points out each as he lists them.
Some, Jason knows. Some, he doesn’t. But all of them, he itches to touch.They make their way through to the huge work table taking up the entire back wall, on which sits a neat line of power tools. Hanging on the wall above the table are screwdrivers, hammers, socket wrenches, wire cutters, and wrenches in every shape and size. Off to one side there are stacked bins with labels like tape, screws, nails, washers, wires, and so on, and so on.
To the other side is a cart with a water dispenser and coffee maker, as well as packages of snacks.
“You could make… anything here,” Jason says, awestruck.
“I can’t exactly drop by the corner store to pick up a grapple gun, and I won’t take any help from Bruce, so I’ve got to be able to make everything I need myself.”
“But…” Jason glances at the suits. “You’re not being Nightwing anymore. Are you?”
Dick hasn’t mentioned going out as Nightwing in the past few months. He just goes to work at the precinct and comes straight home.
“I haven’t suited up in a while, no.” Dick shrugs. “But I’m still Nightwing. And I plan on going back out eventually.”
Nodding, Jason looks around the room, trying to take it all in. “This is so awesome.”“If you see something you want to borrow, go for it.”
“You'd really let me use this stuff?”
“Well… Maybe not all of it. At least not without supervision. You're smart, but I'm not leaving a fourteen year old boy alone with a drill press. But most of this, yeah.”“I don’t know if I could– wait, you have a soldering iron!” Jason yells excitedly, rushing over to look at it.
Coming up next to him, Dick asks, “Have you used one before?”“No. But I read about how it works.”
“Want me to show you?”Jason glances up. Dick is smiling. He looks happy to be here, happy to be showing him all of this, happy to be spending time with him.
It’s easy to return the smile with one of his own. “Yeah!”
~The next day Jason is working in his bedroom when he hears Tim coming home from school, the front door shutting and shoes being kicked off. Then Tim is standing in the doorway, backpack hanging from one hand, and he freezes.
“Jason.”“Yeah?”
“Why is our floor covered in garbage?”“It’s not garbage,” he argues, stripping the fried wires from a Hoover.
“Where’d it come from?”
“...A dumpster.”Tim raises an eyebrow pointedly.
Jason sighs. “Okay, yeah, but it’s not trash if it can be fixed. And I’m fixing it.”
“Why?” Tim asks, finally stepping into the room. He drops his backpack in the corner and then himself on the bed. He lies starfished out, head rolled to the side so he can watch Jason.“Because it’s fun.” At Tim’s doubtful look he adds, “Isn’t it fun for you to write computer programs? Well this is the same thing for me. It’s… It feels good to take something apart and see exactly how it works, find what’s broken, and make it right. When something breaks, you shouldn’t just throw it away and get a new one, not if it can be fixed.”
“Most people do. That’s what I would do. I mean, if you can afford a new one, why not?”Jason thinks about that for a minute. “Come here.”“Hm? Tim hums sleepily.
With the pliers in his hand, Jason motions toward the spot of carpet next to him. Tim heaves a put-upon sigh but slides off the mattress and sits by his side. A large hole above the knee of his jeans exposes a pale, hairless thigh. Dick had, in fact, forced him to make good on the terms of the bet. Tim had decided to act like he doesn’t care at all. Jason hasn’t felt the smooth skin.
“You’re gonna help me fix this vacuum.”“Why?”“Because you need to know that it feels better than replacing it.”
~Arms crossed, Dick looks at the vacuum, mini TV, blender, and two stereos littering Jason and Tim’s room. “Wow, you really ran with that, huh? What are we supposed to do with all of them?”
“Pawn them off?” Jason suggests.
Dick considers that. “They’re your projects, so if you want to do that and keep the money, that’s fine. It’s yours though, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you need to pay me back for anything.”
“Tim helped some,” he mumbles.
“Then you can split it if you want.” Dick shakes his head. “Seriously, Jay, I didn’t expect all this, but you’ve done a great job. It’s impressive. I’m really proud of you.”Jason can’t help the surprised, strained whining noise he makes then. Can’t help the tears suddenly prickling behind his eyes.
Dick frowns, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

I’m really proud of you.
Pressing the heels of his hand into his eyes, Jason gasps, “I– I don’t…”
He can’t finish the sentence, doesn’t even know what the rest of the sentence would be. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t deserve that. I don’t want to hear that because it hurts, because I’ve never heard it before, but please, please say it again, I need to hear it again.

God, he feels pathetic.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Dick says softly but firmly. “Tell me what you need.”
He needs Tim, but Tim isn’t here.
And Jason just. Can’t. Not with Dick. Dick, who’s looking at him with such care and that makes him feel too much. Dick, who’s saying he’s proud , like Jason is good , and it’s like a hand reaching down his throat to grab his heart.
Tim isn’t here.Jason needs to not be here.
He stumbles out of the room.
“Jay?” Dick calls after him, but he doesn’t yell and he doesn’t try to stop him.
Jason pauses in the hallway, forehead pressed to the plaster.
He doesn’t know what to do. How to feel.
Tim isn’t here.
But Dick is here. Dick is here. He is always here, and he spends time with Jason, and he helps in any way he can. He doesn’t hurt and he cares. He cares, and he’s safe.
Jason forces his feet back into his bedroom, where Dick is waiting patiently, even when Jason knows it goes against every cell in his body.
“What was it that upset you?” Dick asks.
Jason swallows. Can’t meet his eyes. “You said you’re– you’re proud of me.”
“Is that a bad thing?”“No! No, it’s…” Pushing the words out feels like trying to shove a grape through a straw. Too big, and probably not going to come out right in the end. “No one’s ever been proud of me before.”Dick’s face gets very angry, but Jason isn’t afraid. He knows he’s not what Dick is mad at.
“Jason. I’ve been proud of you since the first night we met and you accepted my help. I’m proud of you for recognising you deserve more. I’m proud of you for coming out the other side of each and every panic attack, and not letting your anxiety tear you apart. I’m proud every time I see you and Tim off in your own little world. I’m proud of every test I grade. You have worked so hard, and you should be proud of yourself.”He feels it, that wall he’d built up between them finally crumbling into dust.
Jason steps closer and buries his face into Dick’s sweatshirt. After a moment, there’s a hesitant hand resting on his back, but it grows more sure when he doesn’t pull away. Dick doesn’t comment, just lets him cry. It reminds him of that morning he held Tim as he cried. He hadn’t minded, even when his butt got sore from holding the same position for too long.
They stand there for a while, and he thinks Dick doesn’t mind either.
Is he supposed to mind? All of this is new to him. Touching, hugging anyone but his mom… He doesn’t know the rules. All he knows is that if he and Tim stood close together in front of people outside, they’d get weird looks. All he knows is that the men in the part of town he grew up in, they never hugged or cried with each other or did any of the things that Tim and Dick and Jason do. All he knows is that, without ever even hearing the words, he’s been told it’s wrong.
All he knows is that the only time he saw men touch other men is when johns came around for the boys on the corner. (Like Jason, just that one night.)But what he is certain of now is that it doesn’t feel wrong at all. Having Dick wrap around him right now, warm and strong and safe, feels like exactly what he’s been missing his whole life. Cuddling up next to Tim on the couch, and having him pet his hair is his favorite part of the day.
Eventually, Jason pulls away, wiping his face with his sleeve.
Dick sets his hands carefully on Jason’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”
He sniffles. Nods. “I’m fine.” And he is fine. He is, because if he wasn’t, he’d be able to say it, and that makes everything okay. “Thank you.”~Jason’s portioning scrambled eggs onto two plates, leaving some in the skillet for when Dick gets home from his shift, when he hears the TV turn on in the living room. Pop music filters through to the kitchen. He also hears Tim singing along to it.
“ Every little step I take… ”He leans over to peek through the open doorway. Tim is… dancing. Sort of.
Abandoning breakfast for now, Jason quietly wanders over and watches him throw his limbs around out-of-sync with the music in a poor imitation of what the guy in the music video is doing.
“You’re shit at that.”“Better than you!” Tim yells without looking, focus fixed on the screen. He tries to do a turn and trips over his feet.
“Oh my god, Tim, it’s like this ,” he says, coming to stand next to him and watching for a moment before demonstrating the dance. There are quick, up-close shots of women in tight, black dresses, and he glances away from those.
“That’s what I did!”“It really isn’t.”
“How are you so good at everything?” Tim demands, eyes following the movements of his body. “Have you even seen this music video before?”
“Nope. Here, watch my feet.” Jason shows him the footwork. “And then just bounce with it.”
Tim tries, but it’s uncoordinated.Shaking his head Jason says, “Your rhythm is way off.”“I don’t know how to fix that.”“Okay, stop worrying about what he’s doing for a sec.” He turns Tim around so he can’t see the TV and moves up behind him. Tim makes a startled noise but doesn’t protest when he sets his hands on his waist. He steps to one side and then the other, leading him to the beat.
“You feel that?” Jason asks. Tim’s hair tickles his nose as he nods. “Let the music carry you.”
The song changes, something with a slower tempo, and he adjusts their rhythm to match. Tim brings up one hand to his side, resting on top of Jason’s on his hip. It feels clammy and trembles slightly.Leaning forward for a glimpse of the side of Tim’s face, he asks, “Are you okay?”
Tim flinches away a little.
Jason starts to withdraw, but Tim’s grip on his hand gets tighter, keeping him in place. “I’m, uh.” He clears his throat. “I’m not really sure.”“What–”
Jason is interrupted by the front door opening.
Tim drops his hand and steps away.
Dick comes inside, and immediately Jason can see that something is wrong. Hair a mess, dark smudges on his face, tight lines around his eyes and mouth. He looks exhausted. He looks angry. When he makes eye contact with them, he doesn’t even try to smile.
“Boys,” he says heavily, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s wrong?” Tim asks, instantly on alert. “What happened?”“Batman lost in a fight against Bane.”Tim grabs his wrist again, still shaking, but it’s different this time. Tim’s nails dig into his forearm. He doesn’t mention it.“But he’s– he’s okay, right?”Slowly, Dick shakes his head. “Bruce is hurt,” he says, and he sounds hurt too.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dick lets himself into the manor with the key he never got rid of– even after he moved out, even after he swore he’d never come back– and the boys follow him inside. Tim has yet to let go of Jason’s hand.“I’m going to run downstairs and check on things. You need to wait here,” Dick says. When Tim opens his mouth to argue he adds, “They’re probably still in surgery. Don’t want to distract Alfred while he’s working, do you?”Tim closes his mouth. Shakes his head.Dick rests a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. Promise.”He doesn’t look completely mollified, but that’s the best Dick can offer right now. He leaves them with each other and heads for the grandfather clock in Bruce’s study, which slides shut behind him as he descends the staircase into the cave, preparing himself for the worst. When he last spoke to Alfred they didn’t know the full extent of Bruce’s injuries.He feels a wave of worry and panic rise up and he mentally beats it into submission. This is not the time. This is the time to be calm and in control. This is the time to assist Alfred, fix Bruce, comfort and protect his boys. Everyone needs him right now, and they need him to be a cop, they need him to be Nightwing, they need him to be a strong big brother and a good son, they need him to be fucking useful, not a mess overwhelmed by the situation. He’ll push everything he’s feeling aside until a time when it’s safe to feel it.Though he can’t imagine when that will be.He pauses just before stepping onto the concrete floor of the cave and takes in a deep breath, feeling as if it could be his last.Silently, he moves forward. When the medical area comes into view he sees Bruce first, lying on a metal operating table and hooked up to various machines and wrapped in gauze. Dick jerks his eyes away. He can hear the heart monitor beeping– not strongly, but there. It’s enough for now.Then there’s Alfred, head down, hunched over with his hands braced on the gurney holding blood-splattered surgical tools. Alfred is blood-splattered too.“Alf?” Dick says softly, and the man’s head snaps up. There’s a moment, just a fraction of a second, where Dick can see pain and exhaustion etched into every line of his face. But then Alfred straightens up, and it’s gone.Pulling off the latex gloves and ruined apron, Alfred clears his throat. “Master Dick. Thank you for coming.”“Of course.” He swallows. “He’s okay, right?”Alfred pauses for a long time. “No, I cannot say he is. However, I believe he will survive.”“Okay, that’s. That’s good.” It is. It’s better than it could be. Dick looks at Alfred, who is clearly worn out, despite the stoic face he has put on. “Let me take care of this,” he says, nodding to everything that needs to be washed or thrown out or put away. “You go get cleaned up and eat something.”Alfred doesn’t even argue.Dick asks, “Are you okay? Really.”“It has never been easy to see him be hurt,” Alfred answers, voice low and eyes fixed to the man lying on the table. “Not since he was three years old and fell into a rose bush. He cried out for his father then, too.” He blinks, collects himself, and gives Dick a grateful pat on the shoulder and then he leaves.Dick gets to work.He doesn’t let himself think about any of it.After finishing up and reprogramming the computer to send up an alert if there’s any movement or change in Bruce’s vitals, Dick heads back upstairs. They boys aren’t where he left them, or in any of the sitting rooms, and he’s on his way to check the library when he passes the kitchen, and Alfred is standing in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed and a fond smile on his lips. He doesn’t turn his head when Dick approaches, just nods toward the inside of the room and mutters, voice soft and warm, “Look at them.”Coming up to stand beside him, Dick does.Tim and Jason are cooking. Their backs are to the door, and don’t seem to have noticed they’re being observed. There’s a big, steaming pot on the stove and ingredients strewn across the countertops. Jason screws the lid off a spice bottle, smells it, and shakes some of the powder into the pot. He tries another one, pulls at face at it, and puts it back on the spice rack. Nearby, Tim is hacking away at an onion on a bamboo cutting board. Jason leans over, one hand coming to rest carelessly on Tim’s back.“I said chop , not obliterate ,” he teases.“Whatever, it’ll still taste good,” Tim fires back. He pauses. “Right?”“Yeah,” Jason immediately assures him. “It’ll be great. You’re great.”
“ You’re great,” Tim retorts with the cadence of an insult, and Jason laughs.“What a difference nine months can make,” Alfred says under his breath, and Dick blinks, surprised, because it really has only been that long, hasn’t it. They met Jason in February, and it’s October now. Nine months. So much has changed in those short nine months. Not even a full year yet, and Dick can’t imagine Tim and Jason without each other. Can’t imagine himself without them.Dick makes a noise of assent. They watch the boys for a little while longer, how they move around each other so easily, trade teasing barbs mixed with genuine affection, give gentle touches. Dick doesn’t want to interrupt, and clearly Alfred doesn’t either, but he needs to speak with them. He walks into the kitchen, stepping loudly on the tile floor, and the boys turn to face him, going tense. Carefully, Jason reaches over and takes the knife from Tim’s hand, setting it on the counter, and shifts to stand partly behind him, as if to hold him up if need be.“How is he?” asks Tim.“He’ll live,” Dick says.Alfred steps up next to him. “His back is severely broken,” he tells them with a remarkably steady voice. “Such injuries can result in permanent paralysis. The surgery went well, but there is always a risk of complications and in the next several hours we will see if he is stable. Only time will tell how much of his mobility he will regain. That, and his own determination, of which we know he has plenty, hm?” He offers a sly smile, and Tim flickers one back.Dick is so grateful for Alfred in this moment he wants to sweep the man up in a hug. Jason, too. He knows if it were just himself here to help Tim through this, it wouldn’t be going nearly so well.“So…” Tim’s eyes flicker hopefully between them. “It’s bad, but he’ll get better,” he summarizes.“Yes. Although, he won’t be waking up any time soon. I’ve placed him under a medically-induced coma until he has healed somewhat so that he won’t injure himself further.”Tim slumps in relief, letting his weight rest against Jason, who wraps his arms around Tim’s middle and props his chin on his shoulder. He whispers something, and Tim pats his arm affectionately.What a difference nine months can make, Dick thinks to himself.
Tim insists on going down to check on Bruce, and Dick almost doesn’t let him because that is a hard thing to see and he’s supposed to be the one keeping Tim away from things that are hard to see, but he relents because he knows how important it is for Tim to see for himself, to know that Bruce is still breathing, even if it is through a tube. Tim had had to identify his parents’ bodies in the morgue. Jason felt his mother’s hand go slack in his. Dick watched the way his parents went crumpled and still when they hit the ground. They have all seen death take away someone they love, and they need to see that it hasn’t taken another one. And maybe Jason doesn’t know Bruce that well, and Tim and Dick both have very complicated relationships with him, but his is still someone they cannot bear to lose.He’s someone the city can’t bear to lose. Gotham needs Batman. Dick knows it. Gotham witnessed Bane snap Batman over his knee. People will take advantage, thinking he’s not around. People will be scared. There’s still Batgirl, and Dick knows how capable she is, but at the end of the day she is only one person, and the whole city will be going wild after this.Dick looks at the Batman suit looming in its case, and next to it Nightwing and Batgirl and Robin, even though those last three aren’t used. Bruce likes symbolism and visual, tangible reminders. Or maybe he has them in hopes that they will be used, someday. Maybe he hopes Babs will come under his wing and make the cave her base of operations. Maybe he hopes Dick and Tim will come back to him. The suits look suddenly very empty, and Batman’s very lonely.Tim asks Alfred to show him all the different machines Bruce is hooked up to and how they work, and Alfred does, explaining exactly what the lights and beeping and numbers mean. When they’re done Dick suggests they go back up to the kitchen and eat the food the boys left simmering on the stovetop, but Tim refuses to leave.“You said we won’t know for sure if he’s stable for another few hours, right? So we have to stay close in case something happens,” Tim decides, and there’s no arguing, Dick can tell. So Alfred slips out and returns carrying a tray bearing four bowls of soup and Barbara trailing in after him. She appears a little tired and worried, but prepared to handle anything, and when she gives Dick a reassuring nod, he feels another leg of support slide into place to keep him steady. She gives Tim a hug, and then Jason, who seems happy but confused to see her here.“So they told you, huh?” she asks Jason.It’s Tim who answers. “He figured it out,” he says, a soft undercurrent of pride in his voice.She nods and smiles, ruffling Jason’s hair. “Thought you might. Smart boy.”Jason lets it happen, just waits for her to stop and tries to straighten his hair back into place. “But why are you here? Why do you know about… all of this?”Barbara just smirks and points to the Batgirl suit. Jason looks at it, and then back at her, eyes going wide with understanding. His mouth drops open. And then he looks quietly delighted – quietly, because there’s a very injured man a few feet away. “ Really? Wow,” he says wondrously.
Tim frowns. He actually pouts , like he’s jealous , and Dick just. Chooses to ignore that. Because that is at the very bottom of his priority list for today.Babs walks over to Bruce’s side and speaks to him softly, and the boys and Dick give her space. They accept the bowls Alfred hands out and start eating where they stand.“This is really good, guys,” Dick says after swallowing a spoonful of chicken noodle soup.“It is,” Alfred agrees even though he isn’t eating and Dick suspects the fourth bowl is for Barbara. He must have had some quickly earlier.The boys mumble thank you’s. A minute later Babs comes and takes the last bowl, and they all eat silently for a long moment. There’s an air of anticipation, of waiting, of worry, but there’s nothing else they can do right now.Dick needs to discuss a game plan with Babs, but not while the boys are around to listen.Suddenly, Tim drops his spoon with a splash and says, angrily, “We can’t let Bane get away with this!”Well. Looks like Tim is going to bring up the game plan discussion himself.“ We? ” Dick echoes, incredulous.Tim nods determinedly. “I can be Robin again just long enough to get Bane. You’ll need help out there.”Dick sets his bowl somewhere without looking just so he won’t throw it. “There’s no chance in hell I’m letting you go out. First, you haven’t been in the field in close to a year, and you haven’t been training for it either– with good reason, because second, the whole reason I came back was to keep you safe and away from all of this.”“Well maybe if you hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened!”Stunned, Dick demands, “Excuse me?”“If you hadn’t taken me away,” Tim says, and his eyes are hard and sad and so many bad things, “I would have been there to save him! If I’d said yes when he offered the suit, if I’d gone back, I could have saved him. ”“Or it could have been you that got hurt. You lying on that table, or worse. You could have died. How is that better?”“Batman is more important than m–”“ Tim,” Dick cuts in sharply. He’s both pissed off and very worried that he has to say this, because they’ve already had this conversation more than once. It’s like Tim, in his panic and frustration, has regressed, forgetting everything he’s learned in the past year.The past year.Dick closes his eyes.It’s been one year. One year ago in October, Tim’s parents died. Of course he’s freaking out right now.“You are a child. You are always more important. You need to know that, and so does Bruce. He’s the one that failed you , not the other way around.”“How can you say that?” Tim yells. “He almost died! He’s over there right now in a coma and you’re talking shit?”“What happened to him last night doesn’t erase everything he did before.”“Well what about you? If you hadn’t left in the first place, you could have helped him!”“I needed to help myself!” Dick roars. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done but I had to do it!”“Well while you were being selfish, Batman almost died!”There’s a frozen silence. No one moves. Barbara and Alfred are composed but send concerned glances Dick’s way, while Jason looks like he’s debating whether to run out or plant himself in front of Tim. In the end he does neither, because it’s Tim who shifts so that he’s between Jason and Dick. After a moment, Jason moves up to stand by Tim’s side. Dick is so proud of Jason for staying, standing strong, meeting Dick’s eyes even when he knows how furious he must look in this moment, but he can’t focus on that right now.Dick takes several deep breaths. He can’t let himself lose it. Not in front of Jason. Not in this situation. Not when everyone needs him. Finally he is calm enough to say, “Bruce is an adult who makes his own decisions. He is his own responsibility, not mine and not yours. I understand you’re scared and upset right now, but please remember all the times we’ve talked about this. Don’t let him getting hurt make you question everything, because it doesn’t change anything. It just proves how dangerous it is to do what we do, and why you shouldn’t be doing it. I meant it, Tim. Imagine if you were the one that had gotten hurt. Imagine if Bruce were to make Jason Robin, and he got hurt. Imagine if Jason died.”Tim reaches out, grasping Jason’s hand so hard their skin turns white. Jason holds on just as tightly.“I’m not trying to hurt you by saying this,” Dick continues. “I just need you to understand. What Bruce did to me and you was wrong. It doesn’t make him a bad person. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love us.” He stops. Swallows. Hasn’t completely come to terms with that part himself, but Tim needs to hear it. “Please, Tim. Tell me you know you can’t be Robin. You told be a few months ago that wouldn’t do this. You promised.”Dick is surprised by how fragile and desperate his voice sounds on that last word.Tim stands there, jaw clenched and eyes wet. “Bane…” he eventually croaks out.“I will take care of Bane,” Dick says. “Please trust me.”“And me.” Barbara steps forward. “I’ll be with him. I know you don’t want him to go out alone, and he won’t be. I won’t let him be hurt.”“It’s not your fault,” Dick tells her.“I know,” she says simply. “It’s Bane’s. The only person at fault when a bad thing happens is the person who did the bad thing.”Jason speaks up. “So you will be going out. You’ll be Batman.”With a sigh, Dick nods. He’d wanted to talk this over with Babs first, but the call has already been made. “People need to see Batman, in a way Batgirl and Nightwing can’t replace. They think he’s hurt or dead, and that can get very dangerous. They need to see him take a hit that hard and come right back. They need keep thinking of him as something more than human. So I’ll take over,” Dick concludes, and a heavy weight is bearing down on his chest. “Until Bruce is healed.”~Dick can’t stay still. He can’t not do something , not when there are things he could be doing elsewhere and nothing for him to do at the manor. So he leaves. He tells everyone he has things to take care of, which he does, and tells the boys to be good, which they will.First, he visits Wayne Enterprises. He updates Lucius Fox on the situation and tells him that he will be in charge of the company while Bruce is out of commission. He also assigns him to make a Batman suit Dick’s size, because Bruce has a good forty pounds and three inches on him and an ill-fitting suit could get him killed. Then he sneaks into Bruce’s office and fires off an email from his computer informing the staff that he will be going on a long trip.Then he goes to the precinct.Dick knocks on the frosted glass pane of the door, right under the black letters reading, Captain James Gordon, Gotham City Police. “Come in,” is the muffled response. He opens the door.“Officer Grayson,” the captain greets from behind his desk, setting down the papers he was reading. He gives Dick a once-over and, most likely spotting the stress and weariness Dick feels down to his bones, asks, “Everything all right, son?”Taking advantage of one of the guest chairs, Dick sits. “Yes, sir, thank you. I just wanted to– I’m requesting to move to daytime shifts.”Gordon leans back, watching Dick carefully from behind large-framed glasses. “Is this about the boys? Is everything going okay with them?”“Tim and Jason are fine. It’s just that I haven’t been spending enough time with them,” he says, and it really is true, and he feels terrible that he won’t actually be using this to fix that. He’ll have even less time with them, in fact. “And, I don’t like leaving them alone at night,” he adds, which is also true.Gordon nods slowly in understanding, the kind of understanding only a parent can have. “I have no problem with taking you off graveyard. I’ll speak with Morris, she’s flexible with hours and wouldn’t mind a switch.”“Thank you, sir,” Dick says sincerely.Gordon leans forward and his voice goes gentle and for a moment, he’s not Dick’s CO. He’s just a man, a friend, a fellow parent. “It’s hard to be a father. Brother, guardian, whatever it is. When you’re responsible for a whole other life and you don’t even feel like you’re ready to be responsible for your own. And you’ve got two. Two teenage boys in the span of one year. It’s a remarkable thing you’re doing, Dick, and I can see how much you care about those boys. Babs tells me how well Jason is adjusting. You’re in a tough situation and you’ve got a good heart, so if there’s anything I can do to help you three, just let me know.”“Thank you,” he repeats, and this is time it’s quiet and he has to swallow first to get the words out.With one final nod, the captain is back to being the captain. “Right. If there’s nothing else, would you tell Morris I need to speak with her?”Hearing the clear dismissal, Dick smiles and stands. When his hand is on the door handle Gordon clears his throat.“Oh, and…” He grimaces, shakes his head in commiseration. “The age they’re at, there’s gonna be some ugly teenage bullshit in your future. I don’t have any advice for that, other than to hang on tight to whatever sanity you can.”Dick laughs. “You don’t know the half of it, sir.”~There’s an itch on the back of his neck. There’s an itch on his neck and it’s been there for ten minutes, driving him crazy, and he can’t scratch it without taking off the whole cowl. Dick lets out a frustrated noise.“What does he do when he has an itch?” he demands, making a futile effort to smack at his neck through the thick material.“Twenty bucks says he trained his body to not get itchy. Can you imagine if a criminal saw Batman scratch himself? All respect would fly out the window. He’d be human ,” Batgirl says dramatically, and Dick laughs.“Oh that’s weird, don’t do that.”Dick asks, “What, laugh?”“Yeah, not when you’re in the big man’s suit.”“Batman laughs sometimes,” he argues.“When he’s trying to freak someone out.”Dick tilts his head in concession. He looks out over the city, lit up in the night. He needs to get out there soon, be seen. He waited a few days until the switch with Morris went through and he had the night off and for Fox to finish his suit, and already those few days have been rough. Babs had it handled, but it’s just not sustainable for her to take on the whole city alone. And besides, Gotham needs to see Batman.Putting on the suit earlier had felt like stepping into a cell and tossing the key out through the bars. It felt heavier than he knew it to be. And then he’d walked out to find the boys waiting.“That’s so sick,” Jason breathed.Tim turned to him with a raised eyebrow, amused.“Oh fuck off,” Jason mumbled, giving Tim a light shove. “I’ve never seen Batman up close. And you think it’s cool too, don’t pretend like you don’t.”Dick gasped, hand over his heart. “Tim thinks I’m cool? ”“ Batman is cool. You are still a huge dork.”“Nope! I’m Batman now. You’re my fanboy,” he sing-songed. Tim gagged, but Dick saw real worry on his face. “Hey. It’s gonna be fine.”Tim looked away. “I know.”“I mean it,” he said, and waited until Tim glanced back and met his eyes, and then caught Jason’s too. To both of them: “I mean it. I’ll be okay. I’ve done this thousands of times. Doesn’t matter what suit I’m in, I know what I’m doing.”They’d seen him off, waving goodbye in the Batmobile’s rear-view mirror. It’s a school night, but they wanted to be there for his first patrol. They’ll sleep at the manor and Dick will drive Tim to school in the morning. Alfred had volunteered do it, but Dick pointed out he needs to stay and watch over Bruce, who has stabilized but is still in bad shape. Tim has been wanting to spend all of his free time at the manor these past few days, uncaring of the fact that Bruce won’t be waking up soon– and where Tim goes Jason will follow.He thinks about what he told the boys, that it doesn't matter what suit he’s in, he’s still himself. He repeats in over and over in his head.He doesn’t want to be Batman.He doesn’t want to be Bruce.He’s Dick , he’s Nightwing , and he’s worked so hard for that. Worked so hard to find out who he is and how he wants to live, just so he wouldn't end up exactly where he is right now.From his left, down Giordano Street, comes the sound of glass shattering and an alarm pierces the air. He readies himself to jump and swoop into action, but there’s a hand on his arm.“It’ll be alright, D.”Dick closes his eyes for a brief moment. He nods, even though he feels anything but alright. He’s done this thousands of times, and Babs is with him, but…It’s not getting hurt that he’s afraid of.He throws himself off the roof and gets to work.~Alfred sets down a tray of food. Dick blinks at it, his eyes strained from staring at the computer screen, going through all of Bruce’s files for information on Bane. Tim’s been pestering him every day about catching him, and Dick is trying– he really, really is. But no one has seen a hint of Bane since the night he snapped Batman like a twig in front of the entire city. He’s probably in Argentina by now.“Master Clark called again.”Dick sighs. “Okay, I’ll call him back soon.” And Diana and Wally and Barry. They’ve all called to see how he’s doing, how Bruce is doing, but Dick just doesn’t have time for any of that right now.He turns back to the monitor.~Dick touches down silently on top of the GCPD. “Captain.”His Batman voice is pretty good, he thinks. He’s had a lot of practise mocking it over the years.Gordon turns and watches him for a moment before cranking the lever to shut off the Bat Signal. “Good to see you up and around so soon.”“Batman is never down for long.”Gordon nods. His trench coat flitters around him in the brisk autumn wind. A shine on his glasses keeps Dick from seeing his eyes. “Of course.”Jerking his chin toward the giant strobe light Dick asks, “Is there a problem?”“No, no, not that I know of. Just heard you were back already and wanted to check in.”“Right.” He hesitates. He’s trying to remember how interactions between Gordon and Batman usually go, but it’s been a long time since he was around to see it and their dynamic may have changed since then. Finally he settles on, “Thank you for your concern. If there’s a problem, use the light and I’ll be there.”“Good. That’s good,” Gordon mumbles, turning to gaze over the city, and this part Dick is sure of. This is when Batman makes his exit, quickly and quietly, while the captain is still speaking, and when he looks back he’ll sigh and shake his head. So Dick does just that and slips away, but he still catches what Gordon is says.“Stay crouched down as much as possible. It’ll hide the fact that you’re not as tall as him.”~Dick is tired. He thinks he’s been more tired before, he just can’t remember when. Last night he caught two carjackers and a pickpocket and scared the shit out of some kids drinking at the park. He headed back to the cave at around three a.m. and spent the next couple hours trying to track down Bane. Dick’s been spending most of what little free time he has in the past three weeks on trying to find him. All he does is work his shift during the day, patrol as Batman at night, try to find Bane, and drive Tim to school in the morning on the days they’ve slept at the manor. (They’ve been staying there a lot because Tim wants to be near Bruce just in case anything happens, but sometimes they’re at the apartment because Jason is more comfortable there.) And then he goes straight back to work again. It’s an endless cycle, rarely broken by sleep. Even when he tries to fit in a couple hours of sleep, he just ends up lying there thinking about all the things he could be doing, things he needs to be doing, and ends up not sleeping at all, so what’s the point in trying.It’s really not all that different from when he was in Blüdhaven, he thinks. A cop by day and Nightwing by night, free time being spent tracking the movements of gangs and crime families. Except. Except he has kids now. He has two boys that he refuses to let become less of a priority. They need his time and attention and love. They are always in the back of his mind. Sometimes they are the reason he can’t sleep.He gets home this morning early enough to say hi and bye to Tim before he leaves for school but he walks into an empty apartment. He calls their names, checks all the rooms, the boys aren’t here. It’s possible they’ve already left, but Tim never goes to school earlier than he has to.Picking up the landline, Dick calls the manor. After a few rings there’s a hesitant, “Hello?”Dick frowns. “Jason? Why are you there?”“What do you mean?”“I mean why aren’t you at home?”“We… told you we’d be here,” Jason answers slowly.Did they? Dick could have sworn they said they were going home yesterday. Shit. This means Tim needs a ride to school. He checks his watch and curses. “Okay, tell Tim I’m sorry I’m late but I’ll get there as soon as I can.”“Oh, um, Tim’s not here. Alfred took him to school.”“Fuck,” Dick sighs under his breath. Alfred has enough to do, being a full-time doctor to Bruce on top of all of his usual tasks. Dick’s been trying to make sure he and the boys are out of the way as much as possible, but he slipped up today. He was already there, he could have taken Tim, but he forgot– he mixed up the days, maybe. He never came up from the cave and so he didn’t see them.He’s barely seen them at all, the past few weeks. Only when he’s driving them somewhere, and even then he’s distracted. The other day he nearly left Jason behind. Tim had to stop him from pulling away without him.“Wait!” he’d said, throwing a hand over Dick’s on the shifter. “We can’t leave yet, Jason’s not here.”Dick blinked, trying to remember where everyone said they would be that day. “Is he coming with us?”“Yeah, he’s working with Babs today. You said you’d drop him at the library.”“Oh. Well then go get him,” he said, urging Tim out of the car. “Hurry, you’ll be late!”He had spent the few minutes until Tim came back, pulling Jason along, trying to calm himself and sort out the mess of his brain.He does the same thing now, until he’s interrupted by Jason clearing his throat down the phone line.“Okay,” Dick says, eyes closed. “Okay. Please thank Alfred for me when he gets back. I’ll see you at dinner.”“Sure, Dick. See you.”He hangs up.Dick thumps his head against the wall.~“Remember when Halloween used to be fun?” Dick asks, kicking the knife out of some Joker wannabe’s hand.Babs snorts in his earpiece. “You mean this isn’t fun for you?”He knocks the guy out and decides to leave him there to sleep it off. He’s just a drunk who took his costume to seriously– oh, the irony. Shooting his grapple gun up, Batman flies up and takes to the rooftops, keeping an eye out for further disturbances.A few minutes later Batgirl’s voice tickles his inner ear again. This time she’s lost the lightness in her tone. “D, you might want to get over to Crime Alley ASAP.”Instantly changing direction, he says, “On my way. You okay?”“I’m fine,” Batgirl replies. “But I’m looking at two boys who might not be, after you get here.”A short while later Dick comes to a stop next to Batgirl on top of an old, rusty water tower. She points down at something below them. He scans the street… and frowns. “What the fuck?”Jason and Tim are down there. His Jason and Tim are down there chatting up an old homeless man in exchange for a cigarette. Dick watches them talk for a minute and then move on a few feet to a woman clutching a scrawny dog to her side. Jason hands her a cigarette and Tim pulls out a pack of beef jerky for the dog to chew on while they talk.“What the fuck ,” he repeats more vehemently and pinches the bridge of his nose– but he’s wearing the damn cowl, so it doesn’t help any.Batgirl shrugs. “I haven’t gotten close enough to hear what they’re saying. I didn’t want to scare them off before you got here. But they’ve made friends with a dozen people so far,” she tells him, nodding down the block.“Thanks for keeping an eye on them,” he says. “I’ve got this, you don’t have to stay.”Dick hears her swing away as he slips down a fire escape on the side of the building the boys are passing. They’re coming close, at the mouth of the alley between this building and the next, and he’s about to call out to them when he hears a gasp and an uptick in the sound of heels on concrete.“Jason, is that you?”And then there’s Stacey, rushing over excitedly.Dick pulls back into the shadows, watching. Waiting.Jason grins, accepting the hug she gives him. “Heya, Stacey.”The woman pulls back and scrutinises him, ruffling his hair and squeezing his arms and shaking him gently. “Look at you! You’re so tall and grown up now.”“Thanks,” Jason replies sheepishly.“But,” she starts, glancing around, eyes filling with concern, “why are you here? Is something– are you okay?”“I’m fine, promise. My friend and I–” he motions toward Tim next to him, who gives a small wave, “we’re asking around to see if anyone knows anything about Bane.”Only years of training keep Dick from making a sound, keep him perfectly still.Stacey blanches. “Bane? Are you crazy? Go back to whatever place you’ve been these past few months. Stay away from here and stay away from all this– this crazy shit.”“It’s important,” Tim says seriously.“Yeah? So is not getting mixed up in all the freaky shit that goes down in this city.” Stacey shakes her head.“But–”“She’s right,” Dick finally interrupts. He leans forward so he’s partly visible.Jason sucks in a sharp breath. Tim grabs his arm tightly and pastes on a look of wonder. “Wow!” he says enthusiastically. “Hi, Batman!”Dick ignores him. He growls, “ Go home, ” and then he fades back into the darkness. He doesn’t stay to watch them leave, but he knows they will.He’s pissed off for the rest of the night, and tries to channel it into his work. A couple of thugs get more broken bones than they usually would. Halloween is a terrible night for crime, full of drunks and drugs and the feeling of anonymity that comes with wearing a costume, and he’s kept busy until the early hours of the morning but eventually he calls it night. He goes back to the cave to strip and wash the night off him, and then he’s about to drive to the apartment but he pauses. He should check whether they’re here, first. He’s learned his lesson.Fuming, he heads for the boys’ room. Alfred had made up two seperate rooms for them but more often than not Jason can be found in Tim’s. On the way he passes Bruce’s bedroom, and he glances inside to find Alfred checking on him. They moved Bruce up here after they were sure he was stable.Stepping inside, Dick asks, “Are they here?”“Yes. You’ll find them in Master Timothy’s bedroom, I believe.” Carefully, Alfred peels away the bandage on Bruce’s face where his chin had been sliced open by Bane’s fist and starts to clean the wound. It’s healing nicely but will probably leave a scar, despite Alfred’s suturing skills.“I’m sorry they called you to come pick them up. You’re already so busy, and I’ve told them to not bother you unless they need to.”“I must say,” Alfred muses, not looking away from his work, “that was very stupid of you.”Surprised, Dick flinches back. “What?”“They did not call me.”He frowns. “How did they get here? There’s no bus that goes from the city to Wayne Manor.”“No,” Alfred allows. “However there is a bus that runs to just over the Kane. I assume they walked the rest of the way. They were quite sweaty when they arrived.”“They walked? ” Dick yells. “In the middle of the night on Halloween , they walked here from the Kane Bridge? Oh they’re in so much trouble ,” he spits, turning to stomp down the hall, but then there’s a hand around his bicep.Alfred gives him a stern look. “Listen to me, Master Richard: I am never too busy to take care of this family. Taking care of this family is my greatest responsibility and joy.” He lets go, resting his hand gently on Bruce’s arm. “That includes you, and those two boys. It is not a bother , it is a privilege .”Dick looks down. Grinds his teeth. “You just… you have so much to do, I don’t want to–”
“I have always had much to do,” Alfred interrupts. “I will continue having much to do. Driving Master Tim to school is not one thing too many. I enjoy our car rides. In fact, I enjoy having both of them here. I have missed having children to look after.”His eyes are so sincere.Stepping closer, Dick brings his arms up around Alfred’s shoulders, and the hug is instantly returned.“You do not have to do this alone,” Alfred says into his ear.Dick’s heart feels like it’s crumbling inside his chest.~Leaving Bruce’s room, he’s grateful to have talked to Alfred first. He knows it would have been bad to talk to them while being as mad as he was. He’s still angry, of course. But it’s been tempered.Swinging the door open, he finds them slumped over across the huge bed, on top of the covers, an abandoned Scrabble board between them. For a split-second he considers leaving them to sleep but then Jason, sensing another presence in the room, jerks awake.He looks up at Dick with wide eyes, all traces of sleep immediately cleared away. Reaching over, he shakes Tim and hisses, “Wake up!”Swatting at him, Tim mumbles a protest.Dick snaps, “Tim!” and he bolts upright.“Oh, hey, Dick,” he says nervously.There’s a moment of quiet, and then Dick demands, “How the fuck did you think what you were doing was okay?” Without letting them answer, he continues, “How did you figure it was a good idea to go out to the worst part of the city on the most dangerous night of the year and ask around for info on a supervillain? Every part of that is the most stupid thing you could have done! And you didn’t think I’d find out?”“We thought you’d be too busy to notice us,” Tim mutters.“It’s a good thing you were wrong, who knows what could have happened to you out there! What did you even think was going to happen? I’ve been working on this for a month and you thought you’d just go out and crack the case wide open in one night?”Jason speaks up. “Rolanda mentioned seeing something at the docks–”“Two weeks ago! I followed up on that lead two weeks ago!”“We didn’t know that,” Tim protests bitterly, standing up from the bed. “You don’t ever tell us anything.”“I don’t have to tell you anything, this shouldn’t have anything to do with you. I’ll tell you when I catch Bane, but until then you need to stay out of this.” Dick presses his palms over his eyes. “ I need you to stay out of this.”Because if they don’t, then he’s just like Bruce. Allowing all this shit to affect them, to become part of their lives when their lives shouldn’t be anything but school and skateboarding and ice cream in the park because they’re kids .And suddenly Dick is just… so tired. Tired of getting angry and feeling alone and of being tired.He sits down, right there on the rug in the middle of Tim’s bedroom. All of this just piled on one by one and he barely noticed the added weight each time, until it was crushing him. He made himself Nightwing on his own, and took in Tim on his own, and then Jason, and then after that what was one more thing? He thought he could do everything because it didn’t seem like that many things, but it is, it’s too much.“Are you okay?” Jason asks softly.Dick shakes his head. “I’m really tired, guys.”“We know.”“And I’m… sad. I’m still mad at Bruce because getting hurt doesn’t take away what he’s done to make me mad, but I’m sad that he’s hurt, and I’m sad that I’m mad that I’m sad. And I’m mad about what you did tonight.”“I wasn’t trying to be Robin, I just– we just wanted to help you,” Tim says.“I don’t need your help.” Tim opens his mouth to argue but Dick holds up a hand, finally looking up. “I don’t need your help. But.” He takes a deep breath. “But I think I do need someone else’s. I need to call Clark and Wally and…” And everyone who has been trying to offer their help this whole time.And this is the thing, isn’t it. This is part of what makes him different from Bruce: Dick has friends, and he asks for their help.He’d forgotten that, somehow. Something about being Batman made him feel like he had to handle everything on his own, because that’s all he’s ever seen Batman do. But that’s not how Dick handles things, and that’s not how Dick has to be Batman. He can be Batman the Dick Grayson way, not the Bruce Wayne way.The anger and tension and stress drains away– not all of it, but enough. Enough that he can find a small smile for Tim and Jason.“I’m going to call in reinforcements, alright? So stop worrying. And feel free to ask Alfred for rides or whatever you need. I know I said not to bother him, but forget about that. He wants to take care of you. Of us.”Jason slides off the bed and sits down in front of Dick. “I think we should move here. Bruce is here, and Alfred is here, and you need to be here because the Batman stuff is here. I know you want to keep us separate from all the Batman stuff, but that means keeping us separate from you. We don’t see you that much with how things are right now. Wouldn’t it be better, not having to drive back and forth from the apartment all the time? And the case stuff, well, we can stay out of it.” Dick gives him a doubtful look and he insists, “We can. Right, Tim?”Jason twists to look up but Tim is already sitting down next to him, the last piece to their little triangle on the carpet. “Totally, I swear. And Alfred said it won’t be that long until he lets Bruce wake up, and he’ll be healing for a long time. We can keep him company.”“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that…” Dick sighs.Tim lifts a sardonic eyebrow. “What, you think he’s gonna slap a Robin suit on me and take me for a ride around town in his wheelchair?”In spite of himself, Dick chuckles.Letting Tim and Jason come back to this place is exactly what he’s been trying to avoid. And they want him to bring them himself.But they’re right. It would make it easier to operate out of the cave if he lived right upstairs. And he could keep track of his boys and actually know where they are. And where they are is the safest place on the east coast.“Well,” he says. “Alfred did mention he really likes having you two around, for some reason.”Grinning, Tim shoves Dick. Dick shoves him back. Tim throws himself on top of him, trying to pin him, laughing.“Jason, get his other arm!”There’s a moment of hesitation, but then Jason comes diving into the fray. But It’s not Dick he goes for.Jason tackles Tim to the floor and Dick laughs and cheers him on. The boys slap at each other and grapple, and Tim has better form but Jason has size and strength and– and, well, Dick knows exactly what Tim is capable of, and he thinks he isn’t really trying that hard to roll Jason off of him. He’s flushing red and Dick thinks it’s from more than the effort of his half-assed attempts to get away. He’s flushed like he was in the bathroom that morning when he’d been looking at Jason’s body, and Dick doesn’t have a damn clue what to do about it.This could be very, very bad.Least of which because it means he’s going to have a very awkward talk with them.When Jason gets both of his hands pinned down, Tim squeaks. “Off,” he says breathlessly, and Jason obeys right away, laughing.“Told you I didn’t need you to teach me how to fight!”Tim won’t meet anyone’s eye. “I’m just… tired. Your technique is shit, Todd.”“It is,” Dick agrees. “I could teach you some things, if you want. Self-defense is important.”“I can defend myself! Did you not just see?”Dick bites back a derisive laugh. “I saw you take down someone smaller than you. Try and fight me sometime,” he challenges.Rolling his eyes, Jason retorts, “Yeah sure, and risk you breaking a hip, old man?”For a moment, Dick is thrown back in time. He’s sure he said something like that to Bruce before. He’d been a little younger than Jason is now, and Bruce about Dick’s age. He realises how very young Bruce was when he took Dick in. Realises how young he himself still is, even though it feels like he’s lived a hundred lifetimes.“Excuse you, mister, I am in the prime of my life,” Dick says with mock-offense. “I’m a fresh twenty-four. Now, if one of you youngsters would help me up...”Alfred appears in the doorway, a soft smile in the corner of his lips. “Breakfast is ready.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“How’s it coming?” Dick asks, leaning in the doorway.

“Good,” Tim answers as he scribbles his name on the box he just finished taping up. He’s packing for his fourth move in just one year and this is the first time he’s actually happy about it. Well, he’d been kind of happy moving in with Dick in December because he was really cool, but Tim was also really confused and scared and hurt back then. This time he’s excited. He’s finally going to have all his people together in one house, and he’ll be able to take care of all of them.

He was terrified he would lose Bruce. He still is, a little. But he trusts Alfred and Dick, and he’ll be there all the time now. It’ll be so much easier now that they won’t have to ferry back and forth between the apartment and the manor. He’ll still have to come into the city to go to school, which means he’ll have to get up a whole thirty minutes earlier to make it to his first class on time, and that sucks, but he’ll take it. It’ll be better than constantly worrying. It’ll be better for everyone, but especially Dick.

Tim feels really bad about how the past month has been for Dick. He was so stressed out, and Tim didn’t help anything. Even when he tried to help, he just made it worse.

“Hey, Dick.”

“Yeah, buddy?”

Looking up at Dick he feels small, but not in a bad way. He’s looking up at his big brother, his guardian, his protector, his rock. The person that he knows will make everything okay. He looks up at him, and he knows what he’s about to say is long overdue.

“I really don’t want to be Robin.”

Dick doesn’t say anything, just comes to settle down on the carpet close to him. Tim wonders if he’s as tired of having this conversation as Tim is. But this will be the last time.

“I’m sorry. About all those things I said– about you being selfish… I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I know,” Dick tells him, not unkindly. “Thank you.”

He pulls Tim into a hug, and Tim’s face is kind of mashed into Dick’s armpit, but he doesn’t really care. At least, not until Dick turns it into more of a headlock and starts aggressively rubbing at Tim’s hair, messing it up. Tim squawks in protest and slaps blindly until Dick decides to let him go, laughing.

Jason walks in right then, and Tim ducks down to hide his reddened face, fingers scrambling to fix his hair.

“I’m running down to get more tape, I’ll be back soon,” Jason tells them.

Dick asks, “Can you grab another pair of scissors too? Thanks.”

Jason says, “Sure thing,” and Tim tilts his head up in time to watch him turn and leave. He’s wearing Dick’s GCPD windbreaker. He loves that jacket. He wears it a lot when he goes out of the house. It’s the same one Dick let him borrow when they met.

He told Tim once about the night Dick found him, and he made it sound way less terrifying than Tim knows it had to be. He knows Jason had been so, so scared, and he’s sure it wasn’t really all that funny at the time, but Jason somehow had Tim laughing for most of the story.

The jacket is still too big but Jason fills it out a lot better now, Tim thinks as he disappears down the hall.

The front door opens and shuts.

Dick turns to him, asks, “So. Is there anything you want to tell me?” and his eyes are so knowing and Tim feels completely seen, like every one of his thoughts and feelings are just a book in Dick’s hands, and he’s both relieved and panicked. He should’ve seen this coming. He knew Dick knew, that Dick saw the way Tim looks at Jason, the way he reacts to him.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. Wiggles his suddenly icy toes. “Your haircut looks stupid.”

Dick sighs and keeps looking at him expectantly. “I think we should talk about it.”

There’s this bubble blowing up inside him, full of words he’s been holding back for weeks,

months

. “Talking about your hair won’t make it look any less lame.”

“Tim,” he says with mild exasperation. “You know what I mean. Are you going to say it or should I?”

“Fine!” Tim snaps, taking a needle to the bubble. It bursts, and so does he. “I like Jason! I like Jason. I

like

him. He’s my best friend and I want to be around him all the time and do everything with him. And I don’t

have to

– like, I’m okay without him. But when he’s not with me I’m just thinking how I’ll tell him about it later. I want to do anything if it’ll make him happy. And I want… I want to–” He makes a terrible, choked-off whining noise and covers his face with his hands. He opens his mouth and lets the words do what they want.

“I want to kiss him,” he whispers. “It wasn’t there at first– or for a while, but then we were hanging out in here and he fell asleep on my bed and I was just staring at him and it– it felt like. A heart boner. Shut up!” he says, peeking through his fingers at the way Dick is stifling a laugh. “I don’t know how else to say it! Anyway, I had gotten that feeling before, but then he moved and his shirt lifted and I saw part of his stomach and I wanted to touch it and– I looked away and felt really bad because he never wants anyone to see him, and he definitely wouldn’t want me touching him like that.”

“A

heart boner

,” Dick wheezes.

“I hate you!” Tim yells, wishing he could lift up the flooring and crawl underneath it.

“I’m sorry.” Dick schools his expression into something serious and understanding, though the corner of his mouth still twitches slightly. “Sorry. Keep going.”

Dropping his hands, Tim shrugs. “It’s just. When it was just the– the

heart thing

, I thought it was just because we’re really good friends, you know? But then I saw his stomach and there was…”

“An actual boner?” Dick supplies.

“I’d rather explode than be having this conversation right now.”

“Believe me, Tim, I would too.”

“Great. Yes, an

actual boner

,” he grits out. “There was that, and that’s not something that happens for friends, so.”

“So?”

“So am I gay?” Tim asks, softly, desperately.

“I don’t know. Are you?”

Tim drawls miserably, “

I don’t know

,” and slumps sideways to lie the floor, smacking his hand on a half-full cardboard box of cassette tapes and not caring. He really doesn’t know. He knows he’s into Jason, and he’s not into anyone else, but he doesn’t know if it’s because Jason is a boy or if it’s because Jason is… Jason.

Dick gives a small smile. “Look, sport, I can’t answer that for you. But you don’t need to answer it either, okay? Especially not any time soon. I know there can be security found in having a label, or a way to identify yourself, and if, one day, you figure out exactly what you want to call it, then that’s great. But if not, you’re still you and you still feel the way you feel and want the things you want. That’s what’s important.”

For a while Tim just stays there, silent, curled up. Then he asks, “Do you think he’s noticed?”

“No way,” Dick answers immediately, and Tim lets out a relieved sigh. “I don’t think he’d ever see it coming from you. If anyone else looked at him the way you do, he would, but not you.”

“That makes it worse!” Tim cries. “He

trusts

me not to… and I…”

“It’s okay, Tim. You’re not doing or feeling anything wrong.”

Flopping onto his back, Tim says, “It feels like I am. Every time he sits close or lets me pet his hair, I feel like I’m lying to him. He wouldn’t be okay with it if he knew.”

“It’s not lying, Tim. It’s your own personal business and it may involve him but that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to tell him or anyone else about it. And you’re right that he would probably be uncomfortable. Jason doesn’t… view touch and sex–” Tim cringes at that word “–the same way we do. He doesn’t really see it as a good thing. But I don’t believe he’ll think that way forever. Just look at how he’s changed since he got here. He lets both of us hug him now, and I bet he never thought he would be okay with that. I’m not guaranteeing he’ll change, or even saying that he needs to, because he has his reasons for feeling the way he does. But be patient. Let him figure himself out just like you’re trying to.

“Besides,” Dick adds, giving him a

look

, “you’re both too young for sex anyway.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to have sex!” Tim’s sure if he actually got to

touch

Jason he would have an aneurysm and drop dead.. Hell, this conversation is going to do him in. He’s not ready for any of it.

Dick throw his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying!”

“Well you don’t need to! That’s not… It’s not relevant. To anything.”

“It kind of is,” Dick argues. “And I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you two sharing a room anymore. I think when we get to Bruce’s place you should have different bedrooms.”

Tim sits up. “I just told you we’re

not

doing anything, and we aren’t

going

to be doing anything.”

“It would be better for you, I think, to have some separation. You need your own space. It’s important for anyone to have that, but especially when you’re trying to figure yourself out, you need to be able to do that. Give yourself the space and freedom to do that. Alone. You both could use some privacy.”

Tim stares at him. “Are you telling me that I need somewhere to jerk off.”

Closing his eyes, Dick heaves a deep sigh. “That’s a part of it, yes. Although I gotta say, you’ve never been cleaner with all the extra long showers you’re taking. I might miss that.” He looks at Tim, who feels like his face is just going to melt right off. “But it’s about more than that.”

“What are you even worried about, us getting pregnant? Pretty sure that can’t happen, Dick.”

“No, you don’t need to worry about pregnancy, but there’s more to sex than that. There’s the extreme intimacy involved and the emotions it can cause, and you need to wait until you’re ready to handle that. You’re just kids. Let yourself be a kid.”

“Oh my god,” Tim groans. “I get it! We’re not having sex! Can we

please

make this be

over?

”

“I just–”

“Dick,” he cuts in, “you don’t need to be freaking out.”

“I’m not

freaking out

,” he grumbles.

Tim looks down, and his voice is sadder than he means it to be when he says, “It’s like you said, he’s not into that stuff anyway. I mean, we’re definitely not going to be messing around if he doesn’t even want to kiss me.”

“Yeah,” he agrees softly, full of sympathy. “But I also said to be patient. Okay?”

Tim nods.

Dick adds, “And there’s way more to relationships than kissing and sex.”

“Yeah. But it’d be nice,” he says wryly.

“It is pretty nice,” Dick assures him.

Glaring, Tim gives a dry, “Thanks.”

Dick, the dick, grins. Tim is a little annoyed, and a lot embarrassed about the whole conversation, but he does feel better. If it’d been anyone else in the world, he would have run away from talking about this, but Dick is… Dick. He’s the best.

“So how’s school?” he asks, and Tim is so grateful for the change of topic.

A few minutes later they hear the front door shut, and then Jason comes in and passes of a new pair of scissors to Dick.

“Thanks! Hey, stay a minute,” Dick says. “We were talking about you two getting separate rooms at Bruce’s house.”

Tim, loading up the rest of his cassettes into the box, freezes.

“Oh, um…” Jason glances at Tim nervously. “That’s actually great. I want my own room.”

“Really?” Tim asks, and he knows he’s pouting. Why wouldn’t Jason want to share with him any more? For a second he worries that maybe Jason

has

noticed how Tim feels and wants to get away. “Why?”

“It’s just– You’re so messy!”

Dick snorts.

“Wha– I’m not

that

bad,” Tim protests.

“Yes you are,” they say at the same time.

“It’s fucking gross,” Jason adds. “You’re my favorite person and I’d do anything for you, but I’m really sick of picking up your shit. My dream is a room where I can sleep without having nightmares about moldy plates coming to life and eating me.”

Dick

cackles

.

Tim crosses his arms. “Fine. Then I won’t have to listen to you sleep-talking at four in the morning.”

“I do that?” Jason asks with a surprised laugh.

“Yes, and it keeps me up.” But he doesn’t actually mind. He loves to hear it, and it only keeps him from going back to sleep because he lies there thinking about how cute it is.

“What do I say?”

“Usually just random words, but sometimes I think you’re quoting books. Last week you said something like,

how forward of you, Mr. Darcy

.”

Jason’s cheeks go pink.

“Good, you’ll both be happy with the change,” Dick says.

And they will, won’t they. Tim will miss having Jason so close, but really, they spend so much time together already. It’ll be fine. It’ll be good. Like Dick said, it’s good for them to have privacy.

There’ll be a lot of changes. Tim hopes they’ll all be good.

Tim is excited.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jason has a panic attack the first night after they move into the manor. Nothing big happens to set him off; he’s looking around his new room, and feeling the newness . Not in the room itself, because these walls are much older than Jason himself and probably most of the hand-carved furniture is too. But new in that, it’s not the apartment he’d grown comfortable in, it’s not what he’s used to. It’s not completely new, it’s the same room that Alfred made up for him a couple weeks ago when he and Tim decided to spend the night, so he’s slept here before; and it’s not that he’s scared, really. He knows he’s not in danger here. It’s Batman’s house, and Dick and Tim and Alfred are all here. But still he feels wrong and exposed because this isn’t his home, and before when they spent the night here he had the option to leave and go back there and he doesn’t have that anymore. This just isn’t his safe place yet and he’s stuck here. It took him a long time to truly feel comfortable at the apartment, and he’s going to to have to wait a long time again to truly feel comfortable here.It starts with an uncomfortable wave of burning and tingling that blooms from his chest, rushes all over, across his face and down to his fingers and toes. And then right after that, the shaking. It’s not dangerous, he knows. Tim’s told him all about the whys and hows of what’s happening to his body during these episodes, using terms like fight or flight and stress-response hyperstimulation , which just mean his leg bounces faster than he thought it could, and his teeth chatter so he keeps them clenched tight, and all of the sudden everything inside his body wants to be out of it, making him run to the bathroom.It’s really convenient that bedrooms at the manor have their own attached bathrooms.A while later he shuffles over to Tim’s room. The door is cracked so Jason pushes inside.Tim glances up from his homework and does a double-take. “Dude, are you okay?”All Jason can do is shake his head a little. He walks over to Tim’s bed and starts to sit but then his legs are moving the other direction, and he ends up pacing the perimeter of the room, over and over, because it feels like if he were to sit still he would explode. It reminds him of the first day of school when they ran the mile in gym class and each step sent his nervous energy echoing around inside his body, growing and growing. It reminds him of that day Dick took him to jump on the trampolines and that had felt similar but he’d been able to go until he was too tired to move. So maybe he just needs to exhaust himself.He says as much to Tim. It’s kinda hard to speak because his teeth are chattering and he can’t remember anymore how much air is supposed to come in and go out when he breathes. “Maybe I should. G-go for a run ‘round the Y– …yard.”“It’s nighttime,” Tim points out. He looks like he’s worried, but trying not to show it. “This isn’t the city, there’s no light to see by.”“Think… Alfred would care if I j-jogged around the hallsss ?”Tim bites his lip. “Will you let me try something? If it doesn’t work you can go run.”“Mm.”Taking that as the affirmation it was meant to be, Tim slides off the bed, opens the window, and then switches out the cassettes in his stereo. Whitney Houston starts to play, soft and sweet. He waits until Jason passes close by on his next circuit and then gently stills him with a hand on his chest, right on his sternum, right over his vibrating heart that feels like it will burst.Jason stops.Tim adds pressure.Jason breathes.It’s like Jason is bleeding out and Tim is there with gauze. It’s like Jason is a cracked dam and Tim just plugged the leak.The cool night breeze smells like grass and sky and stars.Softly, Tim asks, “Good?”“More,” Jason croaks.Tim shifts so that he’s standing behind him and both hands settle into place, pulling his back against Tim’s front. He presses so hard Jason’s lungs fight the hold when he inhales, but it’s perfect. Jason puts his own hand over Tim’s just to keep them in place. He’s caged inside Tim’s arms, but he doesn’t feel trapped. He feels grounded.Tim starts to speak and Jason feels the vibrations of his voice, the heat of his breath between his shoulders. “You’ve felt this before and you got past it. You’ll get through it this time too. It sucks, but it will go away. You’ll be fine in the morning.”Jason nods jerkily. “K-keep. Keep talking. Anything.”Tim does. After a while he’s not saying anything important, really, just telling random stories that give Jason something to focus on. Jason listens to him talk, and to the undercurrent of music, and with one hand he pets Tim’s forearm, flattening the small hairs there in the right direction, and with the other he taps to the beat of the song. He catches himself tapping in double-time and forces himself to slow.“And I was like, Dick, I’m never picking up another cardboard box again for the rest of my life. You can either do it all yourself or hire some movers,” Tim’s saying. “It’s not like we can’t afford it, I mean, he won’t be paying rent or bills or anything while we’re here. I think he felt kinda guilty, though, about me having to move so much. So, you know. He got movers.”His hands and his eyes need something to do. He says, “Off,” and Tim lets go.He walks over to the unpacked boxes in the corner of the room and opens the nearest one. He doesn’t know what’s inside because Tim didn’t label them, but he finds clothes in this one. That’s good. Clothes feel good under his fingertips. Sitting down, Jason pulls out each item and arranges them in stacks on the carpet. He folds every shirt or pair of jeans meticulously. When he has them categorised he sorts by color. After he’s finished he tells Tim to put them away and starts on the next box. Tim obeys, putting the clothes in the dresser that was in the room when they moved in. All the bedrooms were already furnished, and their own bunk bed and dresser they’d picked out over a game of rock, paper, scissors, all those months ago are now being kept in storage.
Jason works and he listens and he feels and he only keeps these few things, shutting out everything else, cutting off every other part of himself like a computer powering down a list of functions one by one because it feels like he won’t survive if he doesn’t. Through it all, Tim keeps talking. He’s enjoying listening to it but eventually Tim’s voice and the music and the textures become too much at once. Too much input, too much to process.“Quiet.”Tim stops talking. Jason knows he’s being rude, and he wants to explain exactly how he’s feeling, but he just can’t.“Sorry.”Tim says, “It’s fine,” and it sounds so genuine Jason has to glance up, and Tim’s looking at him like he would rip this whole building down around them if that’s what would help Jason right now.Jason thinks his heart would be twisting up, if he hadn’t turned off that part of his brain. He makes a note to tell Tim tomorrow how much it means to him.A long time later, all the boxes are unpacked and Jason is exhausted and he thinks he can finally go to sleep. He feels less like he’s going to fall apart– the shaking has calmed down, his muscles are left tense and sore. For a second he considers just flopping onto Tim’s bed for the night but he knows any movement or accidental touching from Tim would put him on edge, so he decides against it.He hasn’t spoken again, and he still doesn’t think he can, but he won’t leave without thanking Tim somehow. He’s sitting his mattress, watching Jason carefully as he has been for the past however many minutes, hours. He watches as Jason comes to stand in front of him, cradles Tim’s head in his hands, and leans down. Jason feels Tim’s breath stutter unevenly over his own face. He touches his forehead to Tim’s and closes his eyes, basking in the warmth and smell of him. His Tim.There are tentative fingers in his hair. Jason lets out a sigh, and they scratch in the usual rhythm for a few long moments until Jason pulls away. Hands drop.He doesn’t really know what the expression on Tim’s face means, but it’s a little bit overwhelmed and little bit hopeful and little bit sad and, most of all, completely full of love.Jason thinks, again, his heart would be doing something weird if it could.He turns and walks back to his own room. He opens the window before climbing into bed.~Jason is walking around, trying to familiarise himself with the house. It’s a huge building and he’s a little concerned about getting lost, but he needs to know his way around and has time to kill anyway since Tim’s gone at school. So far he knows where his and Tim’s rooms are, and Dick’s down the hall; from previous visits he’s familiar with the kitchen, the library, dining room, and a couple living rooms. Dick said something about an indoor pool but he hasn’t found that yet. Mostly it’s just empty, unused bedrooms and sitting rooms. This place could fit dozens of people, he thinks.He’s walking down a hall with family portraits on the wall of people he doesn’t recognise, some looking very old. They get more modern as he goes, and then he spots one that he thinks must be Bruce, as a little boy, with his parents. Next to that is one of Bruce and a young Dick, and then Bruce and Tim. Just past those, a door hangs open. He pauses, poking his head inside. Bruce is lying in a massive bed in the center of the room.He knew Bruce had been moved up to his own bedroom from the cave, but he didn’t know where exactly that was. Jason hasn’t seen him in the week seen they moved in, or even in the month since he got hurt. Tim visits every day, but Jason has been letting him go alone, not wanting to interrupt their time together– even though the man is still unconscious. He feels like an intruder.Alfred is sitting in a rocking chair beside the bed. Jason means to go unseen, but before he can duck away Alfred notices him.“Um.” Jason’s voice is small. “Am I allowed to be here?”“Of course. Come sit, if you wish,” Alfred says, tilting his head toward the second chair next to his.
Jason hesitates. He feels very out of place in this room. Bruce is wrapped in bandages, though less than before. If not for the heart monitor he’s hooked up to, he could just be sleeping.If not for the heart monitor beeping at regular intervals, he could be dead.Jason hadn’t had a machine to tell him his mom was dead.Alfred doesn’t say anything, letting Jason stay or go like either one is fine with him. He’s working on something in his lap. Jason takes a few steps into the room, feet sinking into the plush carpet, and asks, “What are you doing?”“I am knitting a blanket,” Alfred answers. “Would you like to see?”Jason’s curiosity draws him the rest of the way in and he sits down. Alfred unfolds the blanket to show off its entirety. It’s a deep blue spiral of squares, about three feet by three feet, each row only a couple inches wide and meeting the one next to it with a thick ridge where they connect.“It’s really nice.”“Thank you, Master Jason.” He goes back to knitting.Jason grimaces. It’s still so weird being called that. He clears his throat. “Hey, Alfred?”“Yes?”“I don’t… It makes me uncomfortable when you call me master.”Alfred looks over at him, hands stilling.Pushing through the nerves squeezing his neck, he adds, “And when you clean for me and stuff. I don’t like it.”“Why not?” Alfred asks, but he doesn’t sound mad at all and that makes it easier to answer. Alfred doesn’t ever feel dangerous or threatening, even though he’s very strong and good with weapons (as told by Tim).“I’m not used to it. And you’re old. I mean, older. You shouldn’t be the one bowing to me.”For a long minute, Alfred is quiet. Then, “When you boys lived in the apartment, did you do most of the housework?”“Yeah.”“And why did you do it?”“Because it needed to be done, and I didn’t mind it. And, well, I guess I liked doing something for Tim and Dick. I liked being able to do nice things for them and take care of them, because they did so much for me.”“I believe you and I feel much the same way about this. This, cooking and cleaning and knitting warm blankets… this is how I take care of my family.” He looks at Bruce lying on the bed. His fingers trail over the pattern on the blanket in his lap. “This is all I can do.”“But I’m not…” Jason peters off. He knows this is what Alfred does. It’s his job and he cares for Bruce and Dick and Tim. Dick told him to think of it as Alfred’s way of showing love and respect. That makes him feel weird too, though. He doesn’t know why Alfred would love and respect him. Hell, he doesn’t even know why Dick and Tim love and respect him, and here Alfred is, a man that barely knows him, calling him master and cleaning his room and doing his laundry. Jason doesn’t feel like he has any right to Alfred’s care. He’s a stranger. “I’m not part of your family.”“On the contrary,” the man says matter-of-factly, “you very much are. You are family to my family, and that makes you family to me.”Jason swallows roughly, looking down. His eyes are stinging. He hasn’t felt alone for months now, but in that time it never occurred to him that Dick and Tim are his family. That Alfred and even Bruce could be. He just never thought of it like that. It’s so different from any kind of family he knew before; families are moms and dads and maybe siblings, but that’s not what he has here. Bruce is a dad to Dick and Tim, but not Jason. There’s no mom. Dick and Tim are kind of brothers, but Jason isn’t sure if he fits in that category. He doesn’t know what Alfred is. But it doesn’t matter, he realises. This is his family because they all take care of each other and love each each other and Jason is so, so grateful to have found them, to have been found by them.“However, I’m willing to adhere to your request. I do not want to make you uncomfortable, Jason.”“Yeah?” He raises his head. “That mean you’re gonna show me where the laundry room is?”Alfred laughs lowly, eyes warm. “Yes, I will show you where the laundry room is.”Jason smiles. “Thank you. You know, if you really want to help me, you could teach me things. Like cooking better or, or knitting.”Alfred considers that, considers him. Then he nods decisively. “Very well. I would enjoy that.” Leaning over to the side, he lifts up a basket full of yarn and offers it to Jason. “Choose a color.”~Alfred is showing Jason the proper way to pan grill a steak when Tim comes busting into the kitchen, wide-eyed and breathless, miming with frantic movements. He raises both fists above his head like he’s flying, and then stands with his chest puffed out and arms akimbo, and then points down to the floor urgently.“What the hell are you doing?” Jason asks.Tim puts his index finger in front of his lips. Shh! He repeats the movements with more emphasis, mouthing out words at the same time. Eventually, Jason understands what he’s trying to say: Superman is here. Biting back a grin, he keeps acting clueless, and Tim keeps repeating the motions, getting more exaggerated each time. When looks like he’s about rip his hair out from frustration and excitement, Jason can’t help but laugh.Stilling, Tim stares at him for a minute. “Oh. Oh you asshole! You know exactly what I’m saying!”Jason laughs harder. Even Alfred quirks a smile.“Forget it,” Tim snaps. “You can stay here, I’m gonna go meet Superman without you!”“Will he be joining us for dinner?” Alfred asks.“Of course I will,” Superman says, walking into the kitchen with Dick. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on your cooking, Alfred!”Tim scrambles out of the way, looking up at him in awe. Jason is in awe too, but it’s tangential to the feeling of wanting to step back and hide behind Alfred. This is the most powerful man on the planet, right there, standing in their kitchen, ten feet away, blue and red all over, and yes it’s Superman and everyone knows Superman is good, but what Jason knows is that he is a stranger and Jason wasn’t prepared to meet a stranger today, much less one that can do anything he wants to do. The only thing keeping Jason in place is the fact that Dick knows and trusts him and Jason knows and trusts Dick.“This is Tim, and that’s Jason,” says Dick, pointing to them in turn.Superman smiles. “Nice to meet you, boys.”He offers his hand to Tim, who shakes it eagerly. He takes a step toward Jason, who flinches away and hates himself for it. He’s better now, so much better than he used to be, he should be able to shake someone’s hand. He should be able to shake Superman’s hand, at least. But he can’t and he feels like an idiot.Superman doesn’t act like Jason’s an idiot though. He immediately drops his arm and moves back, and just gives him a smile and then asks Alfred what’s cooking like what just happened is totally normal and fine.“What are you doing here?” Tim asks“I came to Gotham to give Batman a night off,” he answers, clapping Dick on the shoulder companionably. “Thought I’d drop by and check in on Bruce while I was at it.”“Thanks again,” Dick says.“Not a problem. Call anytime, okay? Always happy to give Gotham criminals a run for their money. Speaking of which…” He tilts his head like he’s listening to something far away. “I’d better get going. Alfred, I’ll take a rain-check on that steak.”“Very well, sir,” Alfred says.Superman nods goodbye to everyone and leaves in a whoosh. Looking at Jason carefully, Dick asks, “You okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t think–”“It’s okay,” Jason interrupts. “I’m okay. So, you have tonight off?”Dick’s expression eases. “Yup! I was thinking we could break out some board games. Who’s up for Monopoly?”They play Monopoly after dinner and there’s scheming and yelling and cursing and, through a series of seemingly shitty financial decisions that somehow end up working out, Tim wins. Dick doesn’t talk to him for two days.~“Heads up, gramps.”Jason snatches the apple flying toward him before it can smack him in the face. “Thanks.”Tim sits on the stool next to him, bowl clinking on the kitchen island as he sets it down gingerly, milk licking at the rim. He hooks his ankle around Jason’s and swings their legs gently back and forth.“Wait, why am I a grandpa?”“Reading the newspaper,” Tim mumbles around a mouthful of Lucky Charms.“Everyone reads newspapers, Tim, not just old people.”“Whatever you say.” He slurps up another spoonful. Milk dribbles from his bottom lip. Gross. “You coming with us today?”“Yeah. Meeting Barbara. Hey, listen to this,” he says, and reads a passage from today’s headlining article. “ Apparently the appearance of Superman on Friday, November the eighth was only the beginning. Since then, multiple well known superheroes have been spotted all over Gotham including The Arrow, Hawkman, and several members of the Teen Titans. It seems as though Batman, previously notorious for being unwelcome to super-powered
beings in Gotham, has changed tactics in light of the crime epidemic that hit the city after so many criminals were released from Arkham Asylum in September, most of whom have since been apprehended and returned to their cells. ”Tim quietly stirs his cereal. “So he really doesn’t need me.”Jason is about to say something, but then Tim turns and gives a small smile, and it’s relieved and proud and it makes Jason smile too.Alfred comes into the kitchen, car keys in hand. “Come along, boys, or you will be late for school.”Tim groans, but he he doesn’t actually look all that upset.~“I thought I wasn’t allowed down here,” Jason says, looking around the cave as he follows Dick down the steps and onto the concrete floor.
Dick is gone a lot, at work during the day and out as Batman at night. It’s really just Jason and Alfred here most of the time. But today is Dick’s day off, and while Jason expected him to use that time for… he doesn’t know– whatever adults do on their days off– it seems like Dick wants to spend it with him.“I don’t want either of you trying to be vigilantes, but no, you can come down whenever you want. There’s nowhere in the house you’re not allowed to be.” Coming to a stop at a slightly raised platform where the Batmobile sits, Dick turns around. “So, do you want to work on the car?”“The car? As in… the that? ” he asks incredulously, pointing at the Batmobile.“Yup. I’ve got to do some routine maintenance. You want to help?”Slack-jawed, Jason stares at him for a minute. “Really?”“Yeah, come on.”They start with easy stuff like changing the oil and checking fluid levels. Dick has to walk him through it because Jason’s experience with cars is more along the lines of taking them apart, rather than maintaining or fixing them. He knows exactly what everything is, however, and what it should look like if it’s in good shape because he had to know if a part was worth stealing. He knows exactly how the engine runs because he’s read every book or magazine about them he could find. It’s all very intimidating at first– it’s the fucking Batmobile . It’s the most complex and intricate machine Jason’s ever worked on. But, in the end, it’s still just a machine, and Jason knows machines.There are some things Dick refuses to let him help with, like checking the springs on the grapple that could slice off your fingers. Reloading the missiles and guns. That sort of thing.Crouching down, Dick inspects the tread on one of the tires. “We need to replace these. Do you know how to change a tire?”Jason looks at the wheel, and then at Dick, and he laughs. Dick’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, but he’s smiling a little. “What’s so funny?”“Yeah, what’s so funny?” Tim asks, walking over to them. He spots the dark smudges of oil all over their hands and clothes. “Woah, you’re working on the car? I wanna help!”Jason is still cackling, tears at the corners of his eyes, bent over with forearms on the trunk for support.“What did you do to him?”Dick shrugs helplessly. “I just asked if he could change the tires.”Jason quiets for a brief moment, just long enough to make eye contact with Tim, and then they’re both cracking up, and Tim throws himself over Jason’s back, smothering his giggles into his shirt. Dick throws his hands up, muttering something about “...your own little world.”When he’s calmed down, Jason tells Dick why they thought it was so funny, about how he tried to jack the Batmobile’s wheels that one night, and he’s not scared at all. He’s not worried that Dick will suddenly think he’s terrible and want to kick him out. A very small part of him wants to keep this story to himself, just between him and Tim, but it feels good to let Dick in, and Dick thinks it’s the best story he’s ever heard.So Jason changes the tires.“I saw in the paper that you and Starfire caught the Mad Hatter,” he says as he cranks the tire iron, loosening the bolts of the rear left wheel. “That’s pretty cool.”Dick’s voice comes from inside the car where he’s cleaning the interior. “Is it?”“Yeah. You’re friends with her. And all of them. Right?”Dick poke his head out. “Yeah?”“Well, Superman came by that one time. And all these other superheros are coming to the city but I haven’t seen them around the house. I was just wondering why.” Because Jason may not be an expert on friends and how to spend time with them, but even he can see that Dick needs to do more than what he’s been doing. For as long as Jason has known him, the only friend-type person he seems to hang out with is Barbara.“Why the other superheros aren’t hanging out here?” Jason nods and Dick moves so he’s sitting sideways on the seat, legs hanging out of the car. “I saw how Superman made you uncomfortable. You don’t like strangers. I didn’t want you to feel… like your space had been invaded. This is your home, and you don’t always feel safe around new people, so I haven’t had them come here.”“Oh.” The wheel slides off and Jason moves to work on the one in the front. “You should invite them over. It’s fine with me– it’ll be fine if I have some warning, is all. Or you can go out with them, or whatever. As long as it’s something other than fighting crime. You can’t worry about me not having more than one friend and then turn around and do the same thing.”Dick grins. “You’re right. Okay, I will.”Later, Jason is tightening the bolts on the new wheel when there’s a flash, and he glances up to find Tim grinning at him, camera in hand. He’s seen the camera before, but he hasn’t seen Tim actually use it until now.“Smile!” Tim commands, and Jason does. Another flash.Dick lets Tim have a go at the computer system, checking that all the programs are functioning correctly. Jason watches for part of that, but finds his way back to the engine after a while.They work up until dinner time. They go upstairs to get showered and changed before sitting down to eat, the three of them together, and Jason feels so good. He feels sore and warm and accomplished and safe and loved.Several days later Jason goes into Tim’s room to hunt for one of the shirts Tim has stolen from Dick because they’re big and worn and soft, and he spots a couple new picture frames on the desk. They’re both photographs of Jason, bent down next to the Batmobile’s wheel with a tire iron in hand, though one is about two years old and the other is new. In one, he looks small and nervous. In the other, he looks happy.~“I’m going to be gone for a few days,” Dick announces halfway through dessert.Tim licks pie crumbs off his lip. “When?”“Tonight.” He sets down his fork. “I’m going to get Bane.”Tim pauses. Next to him, Jason shifts so their sides are pressed together and asks, “Yeah?”“Batgirl, Black Canary, and Huntress tracked him to San Paolo. I didn’t want to leave until we were certain where he was, so they did the leg work and I’m meeting them there. We’re bringing him back here, and he’s going to prison,” Dick says firmly, looking at them both in a way that would make Jason trust him, if he didn’t already. “Superman and the Flash will be watching the city while I’m gone.”It’s quiet for a minute, and then Tim unfreezes. He says, “Okay,” and eats another bite of pie.Dick watches him eat, and then smiles. He says, “Okay,” and follows suit.~That night Dick leaves and it shouldn’t feel different from any other night he goes out as Batman except that it does. They know he won’t be coming back in a few hours. They know he’s not a phone call away.
Tim comes into Jason’s room, dressed in his baggy nighttime shirt and shorts, looking small in the dim light of the bedside lamp Jason’s using to read by. Before he can ask, Jason lowers his legs straight out in front of him on the bed and motions him over. Tim lies down, pillowing his head on Jason’s thighs.Jason flips back to the first page. He reads aloud.“ There was this fence where we pressed our faces and felt the wind turn warm and held to the fence and forgot who we were or where we came from but dreamed of who we might be and where we might go… ”The next morning Jason wakes up curled around Tim. He stays like that for a while because Tim is warm and nice to hold and it’s a Saturday so there’s no reason to get up anytime soon. Eventually Tim wakes up too and Jason knows right away when it happens because he goes stiff in his arms. Jason frowns.“It’s me,” he says, because maybe Tim’s disoriented and thinks it’s someone else touching him.Tim lets out a strained puff of a laugh. “Yeah. I know.”“Is this… a problem?” He didn’t think it would be. They touch all the time. They hug and cuddle and they’ve slept in the same bed before and last night Tim’s the one that came and lied on top of Jason’s legs. Maybe this is different, with how Jason’s front is pressed all along Tim’s back and Jason’s arm is wrapped around Tim’s waist and Jason’s nose is buried in the hair on the back of Tim’s head, but he doesn’t see why it would be.Tim squirms a little. “No. No problem. Hey, I need to– I need to go.” He wriggles his way out from under Jason and walks quickly toward the door, not looking back once. “I’ll meet you for breakfast!”“Okay,” Jason replies, slightly baffled. Maybe Tim’s upset over a bad dream, though he usually talks to Jason about it when that happens.Jason shrugs, stretches. He gets up and gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen. When he’s almost done with the pancakes Tim walks in, sniffing appreciatively, hair wet from a shower and not quite meeting Jason’s eyes.Jason portions the pancakes onto two plates and they eat at the table.“You okay?” Jason asks after a minute of silence.“Yeah.” A beat passes, and then Tim finally looks up properly. “I’m fine.”“It’s okay to be worried about Dick, you know.”There’s a flash of… guilt? “I know.” Tim pours even more maple syrup. “I’m gonna go talk to Bruce after this. You should come with me.”“What would I say?”“Anything, it doesn’t matter. I figure he gets bored, so I tell him about my day or whatever.”“He doesn’t care about my day.” He wants to add that he doesn’t think Bruce can hear it anyway, but it’s important to Tim to believe he can, that he’s been listening and Tim’s been helping this whole time.“Yes he does! And even if he doesn’t, it’s probably better listening to something rather than nothing, right? Maybe you could read to him.”“Ha, nope, that’s not happening.”“Why not?”“I’d feel stupid. The only other time I read out loud to people was on my first day of school and it sucked so bad .”“You read to me last night,” Tim points out, shaking his fork at him and splattering syrup in the process.“Watch it!” Jason licks syrup off the back of his hand. “You’re gonna get me all sticky, asshole.”For some reason, Tim flushes red. “Just– just come say hi to Bruce. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”“Fine,” Jason agrees. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the dishes, they head for Bruce’s bedroom, Jason stopping on the way to pick up his knitting project. They settle in the two rocking chairs by the bed and he works while Tim talks. He zones out until he hears his own name.“Jason's making something, I don’t know what.”“A scarf,” he mumbles in response.“He’s knitting a scarf,” Tim says to Bruce, like a commentator.Jason sighs, looking down at the hole that’s not supposed to be there. He must have slipped a stitch again. “It’s not good,” he says, holding it up to show. “It’s all… wonky. The sides aren’t straight and there’s holes. I’m gonna start over.”Tim reaches out as if to save it from Jason. “No! I like your wonky scarf with holes in it.”“Why? It’s ugly.”“Because. Because you made it. And it’s not ugly, it’s… charming. Or something.”“Really?” he asks doubtfully, inspecting that thing that, in his opinion, is terrible. But if Tim likes it, then, “Do you want it when I’m finished?”Tim lights up, surprised. “Yeah!”“You’ll actually wear it?”“Totally, all the time.”It’s stupid, but that makes Jason feel so happy and warm and accepted, like if Tim wants his scarf with all of its imperfections then he wants Jason with all of his too. It makes him want to lean over and press a kiss to Tim’s cheek, and he doesn’t even care that that’s not something boys usually do because so much about them and their lives is not usual and what Jason has learned this past year is to cut out things that upset him and do the things that make him happy and hold on to those little, important things. Unfortunately the gap between their chairs is just wide enough that he wouldn't be able to reach without the arm digging painfully into his ribs, so he settles for reaching across and giving him a kiss with two fingers instead. The pads of his index and middle finger brush Tim’s cheek and for a second he’s worried that Tim won’t understand what he’s doing, but then Tim’s eyes widen and he turns pink and he smiles, so Jason thinks he gets it enough.~Dick comes home late Sunday night with news that Bane is locked away is Blackgate Prison.Tim hugs him for a long time. Jason does too. Dick hugs them back just as hard.~It’s a few days before Thanksgiving when Alfred announces he’s going to wake up Bruce.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

When he steps into Bruce’s room Dick tries not to feel like a kid reporting to the principal’s office. Tries not to feel like he’s done something wrong. Because he hasn’t. He hasn’t.

Bruce is propped up on an incline of pillows. Alfred said out in the hall that he has a minimal range of mobility and he’s in some pain and it will take a lot time and a lot of hard work for him to be able to move normally again, and even more for him to move like Batman. When Dick sees the impatience etched into every line of Bruce, he’s grateful, so grateful to Alfred for having kept him under like he did. He knows Bruce would have tried to push his body too early and not let himself heal.

Bruce has learned a lot of discipline over the years, but almost no self-forgiveness. Not enough respect for his own limitations.

Coming to stand by the bed, Dick looks at his… at Bruce. His father, his partner, his friend. His teacher. His family.

He looks at this man that completely shaped his life and he feels… everything.

He feels

alive alive alive you’re right there you’re looking at me you’re alive

He feels

how could you let this happen how you’re supposed to be perfect

He feels

everything you do is wrong but i fixed it i’m fixing it you’ll see

He feels

want to hug want to climb into your lap and be safe

He feels

i want to forget everything and never feel bad about you again

He feels

i want to remember everything and never feel good about you again

He says, “I caught Bane. Dinah, Hellena, Barbara, and I. He’s in Blackgate.”

Bruce gives a slow, thoughtful nod. “Well done.”

I don’t need your praise,

Dick wants to say, suddenly angry, even as a small part of him settles with knowledge of Bruce’s approval. He hates this. He hates all of this. He wants to leave.

Tim is probably waiting in the hall right now, anxious to see Bruce. So Dick will make this short. Give a quick report on the past couple months and then get the hell out of here. That’s the plan and it works pretty well until Dick is listing all of the masks and capes that have been picking up the slack in Gotham and Bruce asks, “Has Robin been helping you?” as if that’s a reasonable thing to ask, as if Dick might have actually let Tim back into the suit, and Dick fucking loses it.

“No,” he snaps. He feels his whole body go tense and he knows Bruce sees it, and for a moment he’s ashamed that he didn’t hide his reaction better but then he thinks Bruce

should

see how upset this makes him. This is something to be upset about. And the fact that Bruce is just lying there so calmly infuriates him even further. “There

is no

Robin.

Tim

is here, but he’s a goddamn

child

who doesn’t belong out there fighting people who are trying to

kill

him.”

“He wanted to,” Bruce guesses and he sounds so sure, sounds like it was inevitable and that somehow validates him and everything he’s ever done.

“Of course he wanted to, that’s who Tim is. He wants to help everyone, even when it means putting himself in danger, and you took advantage of that.” Dick hears his voice rising but he can’t help it. Doesn’t care. He yells. “You took advantage of me, and Tim, and I’m sure you would have done it to Jason too if given the chance!”

“I tried to help you,” Bruce replies calmly. “I let you get justice for your parents so that you wouldn’t end up like me.”

This isn’t the best time to do this. Tim is waiting. Bruce has just woken up from a coma, for fuck’s sake. But these words have been churning inside Dick for months,

years

. Longer than he even realised they were there. He has to finally say it. This is long overdue.

“You

not getting justice

is not why you have issues, Bruce! You blame that for why you never healed and moved on, but you

chose

not to! There are millions of people who have lost someone and grieved, but they don’t all end up in a batsuit, fighting crime and dragging little kids into it with them. And of course it’s not easy, and that pain never really goes away, but you don’t have to let it consume your whole life. You think my being able to catch the men that killed my parents is the one thing that let me process their deaths? You think that’s the only reason I’m not exactly like you? It’s

not.

”

Dick’s voice goes low and tight and bitter and resentful and his heart is thudding hard, but steady. “I am the person I am because I

chose

to be. For a long time I believed you– I thought my past, my tragedy, was my greatest strength, because it’s what defined me and it’s what drove me. But I realized that’s not true. I don’t have to be defined by my tragedies. I can be defined by the choices I make in the face of them. I’m defined by how I choose to react to pain and adversity. I made a decision to not let my trauma rule my life. I don’t want to be a

prisoner

to the memory of my parents, and I’m sure they wouldn’t have wanted that either. I can think about my mom and dad and be happy about the time we had together and be sad about the time we lost, and then set that aside and live my life instead of turning them into this looming darkness that

consumes

me. You aren’t

honoring

your parents’ memories, Bruce. You’re

using

them to excuse yourself from healing.

“You say you made me Robin to help me, and maybe you really do believe that was a good way to do it. But it’s not, Bruce, it’s just

not

. You put a kid in a war and then you made me think that was

normal,

that everything about this lifestyle is normal and

acceptable.

You fucked up my understanding of what a kid’s life should be. A fifteen year old boy shouldn’t be fucking

shot

by the Joker, and he sure as hell shouldn’t believe he needs to keep fighting after. I got shot, Bruce. I got bruises and scrapes and broken bones, and then I got shot. And then you decided I shouldn’t be putting myself in danger and fucking

fired

me, because it took that long for you to see that what was happening shouldn’t have been happening. And I know I got angry, because it hurt to have you throw me away like that, but in the end that was the right call– you just should have done it a lot sooner. You should’ve done it the first time I ever got cut or had my head smacked into a brick wall.

“But then– then you did it again. Then there was Tim. I had a life up there in Bludhaven. And then Babs calls me up to tell me there’s some kid running around in my suit. That was

my suit

, Bruce. My parents’ colors. It wasn’t yours to give away. I

can’t believe

you did that.

“When I saw Tim’s face after he broke his arm, and I saw that all he cared about was how long it would take until he could be out in the field again, I realised you’d done the same thing to him– made him into a little soldier. That Tim only saw himself in terms of how he could be useful to you, and that he– a

twelve year old boy

– thought that it was his

job

to protect Gotham against murderers and everything else. I’m an adult now and have made the decision to keep fighting because it’s what I know and it’s what I love, but a kid can’t make that decision. You were responsible for me. You should have kept me safe at home, even if you thought it might be good for me to be out there. You should never have let Tim into this–

especially

him, because maybe you were trying to help me, but you can’t say the same for Tim, can you. He had his parents. He had a home. He didn’t need you.

You’re

the one that needed

him

. You were selfish and wrong to make him Robin.

“If you need a partner, there are

adults

that you can work with. You like having Robin to… offset you. But Robin can’t

cure

you. Only you can bring yourself out of the darkness. The reason you’re still there is because you’ve chosen to be.”

It’s quiet for a long minute. Dick stands there feeling like his joints are made of hot, melting jelly. He locks his knees to keep upright. He refuses to break the silence. He said all he needed to say, and now it’s Bruce’s turn to deal with it.

“That was…” Bruce sighs. “Hard to hear. It seems like you’ve had that bottled up for a long time. I apologise for my question, I should have known you wouldn’t be allowing Tim to be Robin.” He keeps his eyes on the middle distance off to Dick’s right, expression shuttered flat.

“Mistakes get made in life. The longer we live, the more likely we are to have them– to make mistakes and have regrets about things,” he says, and it makes Dick furious. It makes him feel empty. This semi-acknowledgment. The way, with so few words, Bruce has managed to make himself the victim, and find wrongdoing in Dick, and not at all address the real issue. Dick wants to know exactly what are the mistakes Bruce is referring to but he might hate the answer, might hate Bruce for it, and he can’t handle more of that right now.

He should be proud of himself, for finally telling Bruce how he feels, but instead he feels defeated.

He feels

more say more please

He feels

tell me you’re sorry tell me you know you were wrong wrong

He feels

i don’t need you to validate me

He feels

tell me i’m right to feel this way

He feels

please understand i just need to know you understand

He feels

i think you love me but how can i know i don’t KNOW i don’t know

He feels

love me love me like parents are meant to like dads do like other dads do

He feels

i shouldn’t have had to take care of myself jason shouldn’t have had to take care of himself he’s a kid i was a kid we’re kids it’s bullshit it’s such bullshit

He feels

take care of me take care of tim take care of jason

He feels

love us love us LOVE US

He says, “Alright, Bruce. Alright.”

He leaves.

He was right– Tim is waiting in the hall, leaning against the wall opposite the door, and Jason is sitting on the floor next to him, untying Tim’s shoelaces so slowly and carefully that Tim hasn’t noticed. It makes Dick smile, just the slightest bit, just enough. But the hurt or anger must still be evident on Dick’s face because Tim frowns and asks, “Dick? Is Bruce okay?” and he sounds so sweet and Dick’s heart wants to break open and run all over him, all over this boy he loves so much and only wants to protect, his little brother.

“Yeah. He’s fine, buddy. Why don’t you go on in and say hi.”

Tim doesn’t move. Jason stands up. “Are

you

okay?”

And no, he’s not really okay, not right now, but these boys he loves so much and only wants to protect, his little brothers, don’t need to know that. They’re honest with each other about a lot of things, but this is something they shouldn’t be burdened with. Dick doesn’t want to pile his issues onto them, doesn’t want to make them mad or resentful with Bruce, especially not on his behalf. So he nods and says, “I’m okay,” and can’t help but pull them both into a tight hug.

“You know I love you, right? Both of you. So much. I only want to keep you happy and safe.”

Jason’s hands come up slowly, but then grab on just as tight. “Yeah, we know, Dick.” He sounds confused about why Dick is saying this, but not uncertain that it’s true.

Tim presses his face into Dick’s shoulder. “Love you too.”

He stays there for a moment, breathing them in, and then gives one last squeeze and lets go, steps back. Clears his throat. “Okay, good. I’m going to go hit the gym. See you later, okay?”

He walks down the hall, and behind him the door clicks shut.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“When the hell did he do all this?” Tim asks, head tilted back to inspect the star on top of the massive tree standing by the staircase whose banister is wrapped in golden tinsel. There’s forest green and deep red everywhere, the entire interior of the house covered in holiday decor. “None of this was here last night!”“I don’t think he sleeps,” Jason offers, carefully poking at an intricately carved wooden reindeer ornament hanging from a low branch. “I also have a theory that he’s got superpowers but keeps it on the down-low because Bruce would be pissed.”Tim hums, considering. He shifts his backpack from one shoulder to the other. “Yeah, I could see that.”“Good morning! Merry Christmas!” Dick yells, running down the stairs toward them.“It’s only December first,” Jason argues.“Exactly, it’s the first day of Christmas!”Jason leans down to whisper in Tim’s ear, “Do rich people do Christmas different or something?”“No, he’s just… enthusiastic.”“We’re not giving presents everyday, right? I can only knit so fast.”Tim laughs and shakes his head. “Gee, I wonder what my present will be.”“Hey, you already got one,” Jason points out, tugging at the end of the ‘wonky scarf’ wrapped around Tim’s neck, and Tim follows the pull, lets himself move a step closer. “You’re getting something else for Christmas.”“Like a hat?” he guesses, and the way Jason goes pink and glares tells him yes, very much like a hat.“No,” Jason mumbles.“Hey.” He touches the back of Jason’s hand. “I’d love a hat.”Jason’s shy grin makes Tim feel warm all over, warmer than his coat is doing, and maybe he can just wrap himself in this feeling all winter.Someone clears their throat, and Tim and Jason look away from each other. Dick is standing nearby watching them with a knowing look that Tim wants to slap off his face because it reminds him that he shouldn’t be acting so obviously… in like. In love. In want to wrap myself around around you like an octopus and never ever let go . Whatever it is. He shuffles back.“So,” Dick says, clapping his hands together once, loudly, “how would you two feel about hanging out with Superboy and Impulse?”“...What?” Jason asks.“Superman and the Flash have been coming over so often to visit Bruce, and I thought it would be nice if they brought Superboy and Impulse, and you all could, you know. Get to know each other.”Tim narrows his eyes at him. “Are you… setting us up on a play-date?”“Yes,” Dick answers. “Yes I am. You in?”Tim looks to Jason for his reaction, because he thinks it could be really cool but the deciding factor here is whether or not Jason is comfortable with it. He can see Jason’s focus go internal, carefully assessing himself and how he feels about the situation, and then he glances at Tim and smiles.“Yeah, that’d be fun,” he says, and Tim can tell he really means it. Usually when Dick asks if Jason is okay with people coming over, Jason will agree and insist that it’s fine while looking a little anxious, but right now he’s looks like it actually is fine. And it’s not that he’s been lying every other time, it’s just that for Jason there’s a long way between something being acceptable and something being good. Dick lights up. “You sure? Great! Oh this’ll be so great! Okay, I’m going to call later and tell them. For now, Tim, get your ass in the car, we’re leaving in two minutes. So proud of you!” he yells, shooting finger guns at Jason as he walks backwards out of the room.“Wow,” Jason says, still staring at the doorway Dick left through. “He was more excited about this than Christmas.”~The second Tim gets home from school he heads for Jason’s room, but it’s empty. He dumps his backpack and coat in his own bedroom and heads down to the cave because it’s one of Jason’s favorite places, other than the library and kitchen, and the best place to look for him. Tim loves it too, partly because usually when he gets there he finds Jason working on some appliance or engine. He likes to watch the way Jason gets so focused on his work; he gets focused on knitting and cooking and studying too, but when he’s working on machines…He’s grown so much lately; he’s a few inches taller than Tim now, and he’s filled out a lot, and he has these muscles. When he uses a screwdriver his forearm tenses with each rotation in a way that makes Tim want to bite the meat there. Just, like, nibble on it. A little. And a lot of times he has black oil smudges on his cheek or forehead, and his hair gets all sweaty and sticks to the back of his neck, and he just looks so rugged and strong and like he could build something and provide , and Tim doesn’t understand at all why that makes his insides feel twisty and warm but it does. It’s something very primal and animalistic and Tim feels ashamed until he reminds himself it’s okay to think these things.Today Jason isn’t building anything, and Tim is mildly disappointed. No, Jason is sitting at the workbench with a notebook, a pencil, a ruler and a calculator, filling out some sort of diagram, and Tim gets closer to see what it is. There’s a drawing of a vehicle, something between a go-cart and a four-wheeler with a caged-in cab and huge tires. Looks like what you’d drive on an expedition through a jungle. Tim loves it.Jason asks, “Did you know Alfred feeds the bats? Sets out little platters of fruit and shit.”“Yeah, I asked him to.”He smiles, this mix of confusion and endearment. “You did?”“A long time ago, when I was living here. Before. I said how the bats are important, right? They’re our friends. So we should take care of them.” Tim sits down on the stool next to Jason’s and points to the drawing. “This is sick.”Grinning, Jason says, “Yeah. The schematic might be a little ambitious, I’m not sure exactly how it’ll come out. But it’ll drive for sure, so.”“Woah, you’re really gonna build it?” Tim picks up the notebook. Every part of the car is labeled with the dimensions and materials. He flips forward, and there’s several pages of notes and an outline of the work that needs doing. It’s all organised and thoroughly planned out. “ Bitchin’ . Can I drive it?”“Yeah, it’s– well, it’s for you. For us, but. Mostly you. Though maybe I’ll build one for each of us, then we can race around the property.”Tim has never wanted to kiss someone more than he does right now. Well, he’s only ever wanted to kiss Jason, but in this moment he’s never wanted to kiss Jason more.“That’s.” Tim turns away, clearing his throat. “That’s really cool. When will it be done?”Carefully, Jason takes the notebook back and lays it on the table. He makes a note. “No idea,” he sighs. “Never done anything like this before. Don’t get too pumped, it might turn out to be crap.”“I’m already pumped, so you need to make sure it’s awesome.” Tim swivels around so his back is leaning against the table, elbows propped up behind him. His shoulder brushes Jason’s bicep. It’s a very nice bicep.
“Or what?”“Hm?” Tim blinks. Tears his eyes away from Jason’s bicep and face and hair. “Oh, uh. Or else… um.”And Tim can’t think of anything to threaten Jason with, because he can’t think of doing anything that would him unhappy.He sighs. Pokes Jason in the side because it’s his fault Tim is so pathetic.Jason swats at him.Tim watches him work on his plan for a few minutes, picturing just how awesome the car will be when it’s finished. And it will be awesome, Tim’s sure of it. When Jason gets interested in a project he puts everything into it– his time, his attention…Tim pokes him again.Twice more.“Okay! Okay, fine.” Snapping the notebook closed, Jason says, “I’m done, you have my attention.”
Tim smiles. Maybe he isn’t the only one who’s kinda pathetic.Jason spins so that he’s facing Tim and shifts to put a knee on either side of his body, bracketing him in but not quite touching, and suddenly Tim wishes he’d just let him keep working, because being the target of Jason’s focus is intense. He feels like a cornered animal. He feels like he’s staring into the sun. He can’t handle what’s happening but he wants more.Jason leans into his space, and Tim barely dares to breathe.He’s happy that Jason is so comfortable with him, he really is. But sometimes it is just freaking torture.“Did Dick say when Superboy and Impulse are coming?”“Next week,” Tim answers, mouth on autopilot as he stares at blue, blue eyes– and he himself has blue eyes, but Jason’s are… bluer. Much better to look at. He stares at the tiny mole above his right eyebrow. At long eyelashes and a pimple forming on his temple that Tim, god help him, finds cute. “Sunday afternoon.”“Cool. It should be fun, yeah?”“Super fun,” Tim echos, and even he can hear how stupid he sounds. He shakes his head roughly, trying to shake himself out of being a stupid blob of stupid feelings and stupid thoughts, because he’s really close to being not only stupid but embarrassing . He very subtly glances down to make sure he’s not already there.It’s fine. Whew. “I’m kinda surprised you’re so into it, actually,” he says, trying for an actual topic to steer his brain toward. “You don’t like people. You don’t like new people , being around here,” he amends.
Shrugging, Jason answers, “I’m getting used to it, with all these superheroes visiting lately. And these aren’t people, they’re kids.”“I don’t get it,” Tim confesses.Jason speaks, and he stammers, but not because he’s nervous, like he used to, but because he probably hasn’t put these things into words out loud before. “I don’t like– I don’t like being around men. Because. Well, because most men are shit. The one’s I’ve known, anyway. But other people… women never hurt me. Kids don’t– um, no, sometimes. But that’s the older ones. The ones that are almost men. You know? I don’t have anything to be scared about with kids.”Tim swallows, feeling like he’s been handed something very precious. He wants to hug Jason, but if Jason wanted a hug he would hug Tim.“You know Superboy and Impulse aren’t that young. They’re like us. Not that I’m trying to talk you out of this or anything,” he adds hastily. “I just want to make sure you… you’re prepared before they get here.”Jason gives him a small, warm smile, and then he does that thing– that thing Tim thinks is his version of a kiss. He reaches up and taps Tim’s cheek with two fingers.Tim makes this weird whining noise and yanks himself away because he is officially embarrassing and needs to leave now .“Tim? You okay?”“Fine!” Tim says over his shoulder as he heads for the stairs. “I’ll see you later.”He knows Jason is confused and concerned, just like the morning after Dick left for Argentina when Tim woke up to Jason wrapped around him. Just like a dozen other times when Tim has had to run out of the room, leaving Jason calling after him, and Tim hates it but there’s not much he can do about it.Stupid thirteen-year-old body. Stupid hormones.Stupid.It’s when he’s sitting on his bed, cleaning himself off with some tissues, that he has the thought: Jason has a fourteen-year-old body; Jason has stupid hormones too.He knows Jason has some sort of problem with sex, but what does that actually mean? Does he never think about people that way? Does he ever have to hide a boner and leave the room? ...Does he touch himself?It’s something Tim’s fantasised about before in a hypothetical sense, but he hasn’t thought about it realistically .He falls back and grabs a pillow to smother a scream into.~“Haha!” Tim crows. “Draw four, bit– uh. Biiii …tch. I don’t know, sorry.”Jason doubles over with laughter, accidentally flashing his cards. Bruce just grins and shakes his head in a hey I’m not gonna bust your balls for it way.“Okay well anyway ,” Tim says over Jason’s giggles. “Draw four, Jay.”He does, reaching over to the deck stacked on Bruce’s leg. The bed is so massive that they can’t all reach the card unless Tim and Jason sit on top of it, on either side of Bruce who is propped up against the headboard.It’s Jason’s turn, and he tosses a card onto the central pile. “Rojo cinco.”Bruce glances at him, eyebrow raised. “¿Hablas Español?”Waving his hand like eh sorta , Jason replies, “Un poco. Dick me esta enseñando.”“¿En serio?” Bruce pauses. Then smiles. “Que bien.”“You know,” Tim cuts in, “it’s rude to talk in front of someone in a language they don’t understand. Also it’s your turn, B.”“Tim, you’re taking your second year of Spanish,” Jason points out.
“So?”“ So , you really should know what we’re saying. How are you not failing?”Tim shrugs off the question. Looks at the card Bruce just played. Outraged, he cries, “You skipped me?”“Am I supposed to let you win?” Bruce asks.Jason takes his turn. “Since we’re playing Uno we should only speak in Spanish.”“Tienes razón.” Bruce plays a Reverse.
“Hey!”Jason plays a Skip.Tim glares at both of them. “You’re both just big bullies, you know that?”“Lo siento cariño.”Bruce gives Jason a slightly strange look at that, but Jason doesn’t notice. He’s just smirking at Tim.“Here’s some Spanish for you,” Tim says. “ Pendejos. ”~Bruce’s house has its own gym. Tim discovers this when he tags along to Bruce’s physical therapy session for moral support. He can’t walk yet, so Tim pushes him down the hall super fast in his wheelchair, making the appropriate vroom and screech sound effects.“Master Timothy!” Alfred scolds as they come skidding to a stop in the gym. “May I remind you that man has suffered a serious injury and is yet recovering .”Tim feels like crap until Bruce says, “It’s alright, Alfred. We were just having some fun. Fun is good for recovery, you know.”“Rest and care are best for recovery, as I remember telling Master Tim just one year ago when he attempted to practice martial arts with a cast on his arm.” Shaking his head, Alfred moves to help Bruce slide onto the floor so they can start with the stretches. Bruce lies on his back and Alfred pushes up one leg by the knee, holds, and lets it back down, then does the same to the other one. Tim sits in the wheelchair and rolls it back and forth with his hands, thinking.It really has been a year, almost exactly, since he broke his arm. Since Dick came back to town and took him away from this house. Since Bruce put him in harm’s way.Thinking about all of that makes his stomach hurt. He still can’t fully say whether it was Bruce’s fault, or his own. He understands everything Dick has said about it, and he agrees… theoretically. But there’s still a part of him that feels guilty, like he could have kept all of this from happening if he’d just been a little bit faster, a little more focused that night. And it’s hard to blame Bruce. He doesn’t want to feel bad about him. He doesn’t want to be mad and resentful like Dick always is. He didn’t catch any of their conversation after Bruce woke up– the oak doors here are too thick for that– but he heard muffled yelling. He saw the look on Dick’s face when he came out. He doesn’t want to be that. He wants to keep playing card games with Bruce and tell him about school and have Bruce look at him like he’s proud and happy.Because Bruce is technically, legally, his dad. Tim spent most of the past year away from him, but Bruce did adopt him after his mother and father died, and now he’s the only parent he has left. And he has Dick, the best big brother anyone could ask for, but it’s not the same.“Tim.”He stops spinning. Bruce is looking up at him, but it’s not the proud and happy look. It’s pained, and Tim doesn’t know if that’s from the way Alfred is bending him.“Yeah?”“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt. I…” Bruce exhales into the stretch. “I failed to protect you.”The burning behind his eyes is so sudden that Tim can’t turn away before Bruce sees the tears starting to gather. He doesn’t know why it’s happening, this isn’t something to cry over. It happened a whole year ago, and he and Bruce are fine, and– and.And he’s never heard Bruce apologise before. Not to him, not for this. He sucks in a huge breath and it feels like the first real breath he’s taken in so long. Realises he’s been waiting for this moment and had no idea.He exhales. Wipes his face dry. “Thanks, Bruce.”~“Okay, this one is from Bruce,” Tim says, reading the tag on the box he’s just pulled out from under the tree. He hands it to Jason, who looks a little surprised. He’s looked a little surprised at every gift he’s gotten. More than a little at the ones from Superman and the Titans and all the other superheroes who’ve visited lately, though Tim was a little surprised at those too.Prying off the top, Jason folds aside the shimmery gold tissue paper and uncovers a thick packet. He opens that up and slides out a stack of papers. Tim scoots closer to read the one on top. “Who is that?”Shrugging, Jason rifles through the rest of the pages, and they’re… it looks like resumes, each with a photograph of a person in the top right corner. “What are these?” he asks, looking up at Bruce, seated in his wheelchair by the crackling fireplace.“Those are the best instructors on the east coast. You may pick who you like, and I’ll arrange for them to come help you with your studies.”“Excuse me?” Dick doesn’t move, but he’s suddenly radiating hostility. He looks scary, even while wearing a ridiculous ugly Santa sweater. Jason, sitting on the floor in front of him, leans back slightly, resting more heavily on Dick’s legs. “I’m teaching him. Babs is teaching him. He’s teaching himself.”“You and have Barbara have been doing a fine job, son, but you both have two full-time responsibilities. Jason deserves someone’s undivided attention.” Oh, Tim thinks. Here it comes. But Dick surprises him. He doesn’t yell, or stand up and start pacing around, or storm out. He’s still clearly furious, but he stays sitting, and only moves to place a proprietary hand on Jason’s shoulder. His voice is cold as ice. “I don’t appreciate the implication that I’m not making enough time for my kids, Bruce. Teaching Jason isn’t an imposition, and it’s not too much for me to handle.”“You simply don’t have the time to work with him every day–”“Maybe not, but that’s not holding him back. He’s already going through his course work so fast– he’s done over two years of classes in the past eight months . I like the time we spend together, and I’m sure Babs would say the same thing. Don’t try to take that away from us!”Bruce folds his hands in his lap. “That wasn’t my intention. I just want to provide the best education possible and help take some of the burden off of your shoulders. I know how difficult it can be to manage the responsibilities of Batman, a job, and a child.”“Do you,” Dick says bitterly.“Yes,” Bruce says evenly. “I didn’t have– I didn’t make enough time for you when you were young. I don’t want you to make the same mistake, or kill yourself trying to burn the candle at all ends.”Tim’s attention has been ping-ponging between the two men, but now he looks at Jason. He expects him to be doing that thing where he makes himself smaller, or tapping his fingers nervously, or looking for the nearest exit. But he’s not doing any of that. He’s just watching Bruce thoughtfully, the stack of papers still held in his hands. They’re not even crumpled.“If you knew Jason at all you’d know he doesn’t want to work with a stranger, especially not here.”Bruce seems to think about that for a minute. Then, “I’ll do it.”“What?”“I can take over his schooling. I can continue teaching him Spanish, or any other language he might want to learn. I’m sure I know the material for his other classes. He can still work with you and Barbara as much as he likes, but I’m here, at all times. Would that be acceptable, Jason?”Before he can answer, Dick leans down and says, very seriously, “You’re not a burden. I like teaching you, and so does Babs.”Jason’s voice comes out clear and even. “But he’s right. You have a lot going on right now. It would be easier for you if that was one less thing you had to worry about. I know you don’t mind,” he says, twisting enough to look up at Dick. “I know. But this would be good, I think.“Besides,” he says in a stage whisper, “it’ll give the old man something to do instead of sitting around the house all day pining after his bat suit. You took the man’s job, Dick. Least you can do is give him a replacement.”There’s a moment where everyone is quiet, and Jason and Tim watch to see if that will be taken as the joke it was meant to be. Then Dick relaxes a fraction, gives a small grin.“I guess you’re right about that. Who knows what he’ll get up to if we don’t give him something to fill the time. Right, Bruce?” he asks, with a challenge in his eyes.“Yes, of course. I might even become unstable.”Jason snorts but chokes it off quickly, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to laugh at that.
Dick slaps his thighs with a loud smack . “Okay, that’s settled! Next present!”This time Tim chooses a bag with his own name in the address. From: Jason. He lifts his gift out of the bag and gasps dramatically. “A hat! I am shocked! I am–”“Oh shut up,” Jason grumbles, shoving at him. Tim shoves him back, knocking him into Dick.“Hey, leave me out of this!”Grinning, Tim immediately pulls it down over his messy hair. It’s red and thick and perfect. “It fits!”“Good, I was worried I didn’t have enough yarn for your giant head.”Tim mimes being shot in the chest.“It looks really great, Jason,” says Dick. He has his own blue and black striped scarf wrapped around his neck. “I’m so impressed with how fast you’re picking that up.”Jason starts to hide his face, but then he stops and twists around to look up instead. “Thanks.”“I get one too?” Bruce asks, when Tim passes him another bag with the tag From: Jason . He opens it and pulls out a black hat.Tim squeaks. “Oh my god!”Next to him, Jason bites his lip.
“What?” Then Bruce sees it: two pointy ears coming up from the top of the hat.The room collectively holds their breath.Bruce laughs. He throws his head back and laughs , and it’s amazing . It reminds Tim of that night going on two years ago now when he snapped a picture of Batman laughing. That had been because of Jason too.Tim looks at Jason, who is red and giggling, and he feels like his heart is about to explode. He leans over and waits a second, testing, and when Jason doesn’t do anything he closes the rest of the gap and hugs him. Whispers, “Thank you.”Dick reaches down and squeezes Jason’s shoulder. Bends over to kiss his hair.“Thank you, Jason,” Bruce says quietly, looking down at the hat in his hands and smiling softly. Then he puts it on. “How do I look?”“Great,” says Tim.“Ridiculous,” says Dick.“Can’t be more ridiculous than you in that sweater, son.”
~“Why is he out there?” Bruce asks, mixing sugar into his coffee.Tim looks out the frosted window to where Jason, covered in a coat and a scarf and a hat and gloves, is sitting on the back porch, schoolwork spread out over the white metal patio table. It’s bright and sunny out, and the occasional breeze ruffles pages, making Jason plant his forearm on the book to hold it them down. Tim shrugs. “Probably just because he can.”The novelty of being able to just exist outside safely hasn’t worn off yet for Jason. That, and all of the grass and trees and squirrels and lack of noise pollution.“Must be freezing out there.” Bruce tucks his blanket more firmly around his legs. Sips his coffee. “He’s very stubborn, isn’t he.”Fingers wrapped around his own mug of hot chocolate, Tim draws his legs up onto the couch and smiles, still looking out the window. “Yeah.”“If I’d found him first…”Startled, Tim tears his eyes away from Jason, but Bruce doesn’t. He keeps watching, eyes unfocused likes he’s not really seeing Jason at all.“He was so ready to fight, that first night Dick brought him to stay. He was frightened and angry and would have used that taser if I so much as twitched wrong, and I wanted… I wanted to give him something real to fight. Help him take all of that fear and anger and channel it. He had a fire, and I saw it, and I wanted to set it free. With the proper training and discipline, he would be… very special.”“He is special,” Tim says.“Yes. Yes, I know he is. ... Something real to fight ,” he echos himself softly. There’s a long, quiet moment before he looks at the old grandfather clock across the room and says, “Dick was right to take you away.”Tim feels like he’s gotten whiplash from this conversation. Like there was so much more to it that was only voiced inside Bruce’s mind, and Tim just got snippets.

Blinking once, Bruce seems to come back to himself. “Do you know what love is, Tim? Love is action. Sacrifice. Doing what’s best for someone else, putting their well-being before your own. Love is stepping in front of a gun barrel to protect your family, telling them to not be afraid even though you must be terrified. Love is leaving the life you’ve built for yourself to take responsibility for someone, and building a new life around them. Love is staying, supporting. Knitting. It’s telling someone they’re wrong– not to hurt, but to help.“I’ve done none of those things. I don’t deserve to claim to love you.” Tim feels these words like a knife to the chest. He wants to protest, but he’s not sure he can, not with conviction. Bruce keeps talking anyway. “But I’m going to try. I want to be the father you deserve. You, Dick, and Jason. I want to show you I’m capable of love.“I want to be good for you, for once.”Tim swallows around a dry tongue. He drinks the hot chocolate, but that just makes his mouth feel gummy.Bruce turns back outside. “Dick has been so good for you both.”“You should tell him that.”“He already knows.”“He doesn’t know that you think that. He needs to. He needs to know all of that. Everything you just said to me, say it to him.” Tim wills Bruce to listen.“Are you two together, Tim?”Tim pulls a face. “ What? ”“You and Jason. Are you… involved?”“No!” He ducks hs head, sips his drink to hide his red face. Knows he really can’t hide anything from Bruce. “No, we’re not.”Bruce gives a little smirk and reaches for a cookie on the coffee table between them. “You could tell me, if you were. If you are, someday. You can tell me about it.”And he knows Bruce brought this up as a distraction, but he also knows the sentiment is sincere. “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”
“And if you have questions of a sexual nature–”“Nope!” he nearly shouts. “It’s fine, Bruce, Dick already did the thing.”“‘The thing’?”“The thing. The talk. It’s been taken care of, so. You don’t need to say. Things. About that. That stuff.”“Ah.” Bruce eats his cookie. “We’ll see.”“Wait– what? ‘We’ll see’, what does that mean?”But Tim doesn’t get an answer. What he gets is Bruce grinning mysteriously at him and rolling himself out of the room.“What does that mean ?” Tim yells at the back of his head, fruitlessly.~Tim and Jason are in the cave, impatiently waiting. Today’s the day. Jason said he’s wasn’t nervous but he’s wearing his GCPD jacket– the one that used to be Dick’s until he ‘lost’ it and conveniently filed for a replacement with the department before Jason found it in his room– and Tim knows he likes to wear that when he needs a shield between him and the world. It almost fits him now.They’re sitting on the workbench. Tim’s swinging his legs from side to side and gently kicking Jason with each pass when Dick comes down the steps two at time. “Superman just called, they should be here any–”There’s whoosh of air and color, and suddenly four superheroes are standing in the cave. Five, including Dick.“Woo!” Impulse throws his hands up. He’s really skinny and even shorter than Tim. “Oh yeah, team speedsters for the win! Take that, Supes!”The Flash high fives him while Superman chuckles. Superboy, who’s dripping wet, shakes like a dog and splatters water all over Impulse. “Only because you pushed me into the Gotham Harbor!”“All’s fair in love and war,” Impulse dismisses. He looks over toward Tim and Jason, and then in an instant he’s standing in front of them with a wide smile and amber hair flopping over his red and yellow goggles. “Hi! Hello! I’m Impulse. You’re Tim and Jason, though I don’t know which one is Tim and which one is Jason. Which one are you?”It takes a second for Tim process all the words that were just said because they got progressively faster at the end. “I’m Tim. That’s Jason. Hi.”Superboy walks over. He has a nose ring and fingerless gloves and a leather jacket over his red and blue costume, and Tim thinks he looks really cool. Tim’s never met a superhero his age. He was meant to, eventually; Bruce had mentioned it. But Tim was only Robin for a few months, and it just hadn’t happened by the time– by the time he wasn’t Robin anymore.“Sup, guys?”Jason stands. “Hey.”Superboy looks him up and down. “I’m guessing you’re the one that was Robin.”Jason frowns and points to Tim. “No, he was.”“No shit?” Superboy laughs, but it doesn’t sound mean. “Sorry, dude, I just thought… I mean, you’re kinda small, you know?”Over by the staircase, Tim sees Superman shake his head and pinch his nose. Dick pats him on the back and leads the two adults up to the main house.“Tim was great as Robin,” Jason tells him. “He’s crazy smart and he worked really hard and can fight.”“Oh, hey, no doubt,” Superboy says easily. He looks Tim up and down. “Yeah, I can see that.”Impulse is a blur running all over the cave, never staying in one spot for more than a second. “This place is so cool! ” he says from over by the dinosaur. A second later he’s by the Batcomputer.“Don’t touch anything,” Tim and Superboy call at the same time. Superboy grins at him.
“So, Superboy–”“You can call me Kon,” he interrupts, and then he winks.Tim’s never been winked at, not like that. He doesn’t know what to do with it. If it were Jason doing the winking, he’d crumble to the floor in a pile of goop. And Superboy– Kon– is… cute. But he’s not Jason. “Oh. Really? Okay.”Kon takes a step closer and smiles, head tilted. “What were you gonna say?”“Um.” He doesn’t remember. He feels weird. He’s very, very aware of Jason next to him, and Kon in front of him, closer than people (other than Jason) usually get. He thinks he knows what Kon is doing, and it’s– he doesn’t hate it, it’s just. Not something he’s interested in. But this has never happened to him before so he doesn’t know how to say that. At least, not nicely. And what if he’s wrong? Then he’d look like an idiot.But then Kon reaches out and sets his fingertips on Tim’s jaw, and Tim’s suddenly pretty sure he’s not wrong.There’s a loud slap, and Kon’s hand isn’t touching Tim’s face anymore. Kon isn’t anywhere near him anymore, because Jason has shoved him away and planted himself between them. It must be the surprise more than the force of the push that has Kon stumbling back and nursing his hand as if it’s actually hurt, because as strong as Jason is now, Kon is immeasurably stronger.Tim looks at the side of Jason’s face, and his breath catches in his lungs.He has seen Jason be bold, he’s seen him stand his ground in the face of something he fears. He’s seen him argue and get annoyed. He’s seen him bitter and angry over injustice. But this– this sudden and forceful rage– is totally new. Tim stands in shock, watching Jason pull his shoulders back and chest out, bowing up to a Kryptonian that could toss him into the sun on a whim.Bart finally stops moving. Stops and stares.“The hell is your problem?” Kon demands incredulously.“You don’t touch him like that,” Jason growls, voice dark and serious and threatening and nothing like what Tim’s ever heard from him before.“I can’t touch him?”“Not like that .”For the smallest moment, Tim thinks crazily: He’s jealous! But then Kon says,“Why, is he your boyfriend?” He puts up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, man, I didn’t know.”And Jason makes a face like he’s just been asked to calculate the square root of a turnip: complete and utter incomprehension.There’s a familiar whoosh , and then Superman, The Flash, and Dick are all there, looking between the four boys with concern. Superman asks, “What’s going on? I heard…”“Fuck if I know!” Kon says, hands still in the air defensively. “All I did was flirt with Tim a little and dude here freaked on me.”Dick sighs, “Oh, shit.”“We’re not,” Tim says, and everyone turns to look at him except Jason, who won’t take his eyes off Kon.“What?”“We’re not… I’m not his boyfriend. That’s not why he’s upset.” Tim knows it. As much as he’d like to believe Jason got jealous over Kon’s attention and has suddenly realised he’s in love with Tim, that’s not what this is.He doesn’t know if he can explain to Jason, here and now, with people watching, why this doesn’t need to be a big deal. But he needs to do something, so moves to Jason’s side and puts his hand on his back. Says softly, “He wasn’t trying to hurt me, Jason. It wasn’t… He didn’t do a bad thing.”Finally Jason glances at him, again with that square-root-of-a-turnip expression. “How is it not bad? It’s… wrong. It’s gross.”Oh god.“Oh god,” says Tim.Superman frowns. “Now wait just a minute–”“Gross!” Kon yells, losing the defensive stance for an offensive one, an offended one.Tim tries, “That’s not–”“Fuck right off,” Kon says, pointing at Jason. “That’s some homophobic bullshit right there.”“Homophobic,” Jason sounds out, like he’s never heard the word before.“Yeah, asshole. It means you’re a piece of shit for having a problem with me being into Tim. Well you know what? You can kiss my gay ass!”“Okay.” Dick takes a step forward. “We need to have a chat and sort this out. Superman, Flash, would you please take the boys home?” He poses it like a request but his tone is all command.Superman and The Flash gather their sidekicks. Kon storms out. Bart gives a half-hearted wave before following.Dick heads for the stairs and motions them to follow. “Let’s talk.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Tim,” Jason says when they’re upstairs. He’s vibrating with the need to hit something. Hit Kon . His fists are curled tight at his sides. But he shakes them out and gently takes Tim’s hands when he turns around, the two of them pausing in front of the grandfather clock. “Are you okay?”
Tim looks up at him, worried, as if Jason is the one who needs caring for right now. Maybe he doesn’t understand what happened, or that he should be upset over it. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine . Are you?”A few steps ahead, Dick notices they’re not following and jerks his head toward the doorway. “Hey. Let’s go.”“Where?” Jason asks. He can’t think of a single thing that’s more important right now than making sure Tim is alright, and they can do that just fine right here.
“The kitchen,” Dick answers over his shoulder. “We need to sit down and have some tea or something. Calm down and talk this out.”
Jason’s face twists into an incredulous frown. “We don’t need any fucking tea !”Finally Dick stops, turning around with eyebrows raised.
A year ago that look would have had Jason running. But he isn’t scared. He’s not worried about being in trouble.He’s confused.
He’s angry.
“Quit pretending like you’re not mad,” he tells Dick, squeezing Tim’s hands. “I know you’ve gotten really good at covering it up around me, but this isn’t the time for that.”

“I’m not pretending,” Dick replies. “I’m not mad.”“What? How? ” Jason demands, because Dick should be . “ He touched Tim, ” he snaps, voice heavy and sharp.
Dick gets a dangerous glint in his eye and looks at Tim questioningly.
“Just my chin,” Tim says quickly, one hand sliding out of Jason’s grip to brush the spot. “Not– not anything bad.”
“It was bad! He was– Tim, he was coming on to you! He winked and touched you and had that look. ” The look Stacey and Connie used to get. The look Jason got sometimes walking home from the library and trying to ignore the men sprawling on their front steps. The one he got that one night he spent at a foster home, before he broke a guy’s nose and ran away. Jason knows that look and he knows what comes after it.
“I know that. It’s just not that big a deal,” says Tim, and Jason feels like his head is about to explode. Is Tim really that naive?
Dick cuts in, “Jason, look– hey, look at me. Okay?” When Jason does, he continues. “We all need to be on the same page here. Why did you shove Superboy?”
Jason is thrown by how the conversation has shifted to be about him, about how he feels and how he reacted, rather than Tim. “That’s not what fucking matters right now.”
“It’s important that we talk about this,” Dick insists.
Tim says, “We just need to know why you did what you did, Jay,” and he doesn’t actually move at all but it feels like with that one sentence he planted himself over there by Dick. The two of them on one side and Jason on the other. The two of them against him.
Taking a step back, Jason demands, “Why are you acting like I’m the one who was fucked up down there?”
“Why exactly do have a problem with Superboy showing interest in Tim?” Dick asks, moving forward and crossing his arms.
Jason can’t believe he has to explain this. All Dick talks about is trying to keep them safe, so why doesn’t he get that’s exactly what Jason was doing? For the first time in months, he feels alone. He says, “Superboy wanted Tim. I had to stop it.” When they keep just staring at him he clarifies, slowly, as if to a child, “He wanted to fuck him. That’s bad.”Tim’s face turns bright red.Dick leans heavily on the back of the couch he’s standing next to. “Let’s tackle the last part of that first. Is the problem here that you don’t think men should be together? You don’t like that Kon is gay?”Jason frowns, thoughts going everywhere and nowhere. “What? I– I would’ve done the same thing if Tim was a girl. The problem is that Kon is a boy and he was going after Tim.”“So a man showing interest in anyone is bad,” Dick leads.
“Yes!” Jason snaps. He’s entirely filled with rage, both at what happened and the lack of support from his family. It’s like they’ve forgotten how to speak his language. “ Why don’t you get this? It’s dangerous! Men are aggressive and they make people do things they don’t want to do! Have you ever been hit on by a man, Dick? It’s not something you want. It makes you feel bad, and it’s not a situation you can just kindly ask your way out of. You fight your way out, or you run , or you get fucked .”
Tim looks so upset now, and Jason hates that– he never wants Tim to be upset, especially over something he’s said, but he needs to hear this and know how the world works. He needs to be prepared, because Tim is pretty and small and will be getting a lot of attention in his life. He’s grown up even more sheltered than Jason thought if this is the first time he’s ever been hit on.
Dick says, “That’s what you’re used to. That’s the kind of environment you grew up in. But that’s not the way things work–”“That is how it works! You don’t know shit , Dick!”

“Hey! Calm down,” Dick barks, which effectively makes Jason lose any remaining calm he had. But Dick isn’t very calm either. “Not every single man who wants to have sex is a predator. I mean, I’ve slept with Babs, does that make me a monster?”It takes a second for the words to sink in, and then when they do Jason feels like his whole body has turned to ice. Except maybe his fists; those feel like they’re on fire. The whole world has just been turned sideways under his feet. “You what? ”“Don’t you look at me like that! This is what I’m trying to explain–”
“Shut up!” Jason shouts. He can’t– he can’t hear one more word. He needs to leave right now or else he’s really going to explode , and he doesn’t want to hurt Dick. Because he does want to hurt him– a lot– and he knows he’d regret it later if he did. So he heads for the nearest exit, which is the hidden staircase behind him. The clock slides over and he steps down.There’s half a second of stunned silence, and then, “Get back here! Jason, we need to talk about this!”
“Fuck off!”
“Jason, wait!”
And Jason does hesitate then, because that’s Tim’s voice and it sounds torn.
But Tim’s safe now and Jason wants to keep him that way, so he doesn’t stop walking. The passage way shuts behind him. His feet pound down each step, sneakers slapping against concrete until he reaches the bottom.
He looks around the cave, feeling small and impudent and worthless because he thought he did something good, he protected Tim, but Dick didn’t act like he did something good. No one did. Tim said he didn’t need to. Kon got mad and no one else said he shouldn’t be. Dick didn’t say he was proud of him, didn’t say he did the right thing. Instead he questioned Jason like a criminal. Is that how Dick thinks of him? After everything? That he’s still just some suspicious, dangerous street rat?Maybe he is. He feels dangerous right now. He wants to destroy something. Rip it apart with his bare hands. Smash and punch and tear and hurt . He wants to scream . He can’t remember the last time he was this mad. He doesn’t even know what’s pissing him off the most– what happened to Tim; him and Dick teaming up against Jason; the fact that Dick has done that to Barbara …
He thought Dick was better than that. Than all of them .
He doesn’t realise he’s holding a hammer until he’s already swinging it. It bounces off the batmobile’s driver’s side window with a thud that reverberates all the way up his arm. The glass is fine. Snarling, he swings again, but it doesn’t break. Doesn’t even crack. And then he remembers it’s made of bullet-proof glass so he abandons the window and goes for the door panel.
The door dents under the hammer head. He wails at it again with all of his strength, with all of his rage. Again and again and he goes for the hood next, grunting with each hit, or maybe sobbing, he doesn’t know. He feels hot and crazed and like some animal has taken over his body, like some lower life-form has taken over his brain. Because nothing about this is logical, it’s not who Jason is.
But even as he thinks that, he realises it’s not true. It is who Jason is. Part of him, somewhere, deep down, always wants to do this. He just keeps it buried. He keeps it where no one can see it, not even him. He keeps it at bay with cooking and knitting and music and books and Tim and Barbara and Dick and the memory of his mom’s hugs. Everything good and safe. But underneath those things is this–this fury and
fear and
pain and
he’s not good enough, never enough andno one truly honestly loves him they all leave and eventually Tim and Dick will leave too because
his dad left he always left, his dad hated him hated him hurt him and
his mom was always high always looking for something else something better because Jason wasn’t good enough for her, he didn’t love her enough he didn’t take care of her enough to get her to stay with him and she left she left she never woke up she was so cold and
Dick says he loves him but it’s justwords because
Jason didn’t do anything to deserve Dick’s love and he’s been trying trying and he thought he was good now he supposed to be good now but
he’s not he’s not good and he didn’t do good and Dick didn’t like it and Tim didn’t like it and Jason isn’t good enough for Tim and they’ll see it now and
he’ll be alone again just like
before.
With a wet, broken shout, Jason throws the hammer as hard as he can at the front of the car. It gets lodged in the bumper. Jason kicks at it, at the grill, at anything, and his foot hurts but his heart and his mind hurt worse.
Then there are arms wrapped around him like a steel cage. Jason panics.
“Jason, stop!”
Dick dodges when Jason throws his head back, but doesn’t loosen the hold. Jason kicks and scratches and bucks wildly, does whatever he can with his arms pinned to his sides, but it’s useless. Dick’s body is unyielding behind his.
“Please, Jay, please stop. Talk to me. Let me help , let me, please .”
And Jason hears the words but they don’t mean anything to him right now– this isn’t help. This isn’t like when Tim had wrapped his arms around Jason and pressed down on his chest. That had been calming. This is– this is terrifying.
“Let me go ,” he rasps, throat shredded.
“No.” Dick’s voice is as firm as his body. “I can’t risk you hurting yourself.”
Willis Todd was never as strong as Dick is, but he was strong enough. Enough that Jason had been helpless, struggling against the confines of his dad’s arms. When he screamed, Willis covered his mouth. Jason couldn’t get free, even when he bit as hard as he could on his dad’s thumb. Willis would say, “You ain’t leaving this room ‘till you stop fighting me,” and Jason would try to fight harder, body completely constricted and eyes burning with hot, furious tears.
“I’m not gonna– I hate this I hate this you have to let go, please, Dick , you have to –” Jason chokes on a whine, chokes on the tears sliding down his cheeks and into his mouth.

Dick must hear the raw desperation because he releases him. Jason slumps to the ground on his hands and knees, gasping. He presses his forehead onto the cold concrete. He wants to smack it hard and black out and not be here. Not– he doesn’t really want to hurt himself, he just. Doesn’t want to be feeling the way he’s feeling. Doesn’t want to be experiencing any of this.
From his peripheral he sees Dick crouch down next to him. “It’s– it’ll be alright, Jay,” he says, and this time his voice is softer. Trying to be soothing. “Just breathe.”
“Leave me alone,” Jason gasps, and he both means it and doesn’t. He’s terrified of Dick leaving him for good, but also furious at him. He wants comfort, but doesn’t think he should get to have it. But he listens, and breathes. He breathes, and he looks up, locks eyes on the dinosaur because it’s a neutral thing, and he stares at it for a long few minutes. When he decides he can move, he sits back on his heels.
“Are you having a panic attack?” Dick asks.
Jason shakes his head. He’s not panicking. He’s just feeling every bad thing.
“Good. Can you talk to me?”
“Don’t want to,” he grinds out.He doesn’t want to talk to Dick. He wants to punch him in the face. And then climb into his lap.
Dick presses his lips together in a thin line. “Is there someone you do want to talk to?”
Yeah, there is. Just one.
“Barbara.”
~An hour later, Jason and Barbara are sitting on his bedroom rug, cross-legged, facing each other. She’s waiting patiently for him to speak, but it’s hard to take the enormity of what he’s feeling and put it into words. His brain feels fuzzy and full. It’s not even dinner time yet, but he’s tired enough to go to bed.
“I’m sorry,” he eventually says. “You were probably busy, I shouldn’t–”
“Hey, I’m glad you wanted to talk to me, and I’m glad Dick called me over. You need me so I’m here.” Her matter-of-fact tone is reassuring. Barbara doesn’t bullshit, even to make someone feel better. She only says what she means. She cares about him.
“Dick said…” Jason starts softly, feeling like he should be apologising for bringing it up, but he needs to hear about it from her. “He said he’s slept with you.”

She doesn’t really react to that, other than mild curiosity. “That’s true.”

“Why?” he asks.
“Why did we have sex?”“Yes.”
“Short answer? Because we wanted to.”
Jason frowns.
She leans back on her hands, head tilting thoughtfully. “Dick and I have known each other for a very long time. Did you know that?” He shakes his head. “We met when we were teenagers, though he’s a few years younger than I am. He had a crush on me from the beginning,” she says, smiling fondly. “I think I was his first kiss. It was always easy, with him. We worked well together as Batgirl and Robin. We flirted all the time, and it wasn’t serious– we were never really dating– but it was nice. We slept together before he left for Blüdhaven.”“So you… did it because he was leaving? Like a goodbye present?”Babs laughs. “No, no. It was just… We liked each other, and were comfortable, and wanted sex. Plus he’s, like, really hot,” she says with a grin.
When Jason doesn’t smile back, she sobers.

“He’s not the type to sleep around, despite what people think of him. It wasn’t thoughtless,” she says, misinterpreting Jason’s reaction.
“I’m not– I get why Dick wanted it. What I don’t understand is why you would do it.”Barbara looks at him for a long time. “Jason, why do you think people have sex? What do you think their motivation is?”Jason had hoped that Babs, being a woman, would understand his feelings about all of this. Dick and Tim don’t get it, but surely she would. But she doesn’t. No one here knows the world like he does, and he really does have to spell it out.
“It’s a way to get something. It’s something you can sell or barter with,” he starts. “Money. Protection. Food. When you’re desperate you can stand on a street and wait for some guy to pay you five dollars to suck him off and you get to eat that night.” He swallows hard, remembering how close he’d gotten to that. He was at the food mart trying to buy some ramen and realised he didn’t have enough money. He stood there, tears burning behind his eyes, staring at the pennies on the counter. The man standing behind him had offered to pay for the food if Jason would go out behind the shop with him. Jason had run home. Had thought about that all night while his stomach ached. Had gone out onto the street corner the next night. He could never do that now, but back then, when he hadn’t seen any other option, he’d numbed himself to the idea enough that he would have let it happen if Dick hadn’t come along.“Or you trade for a handful of pills or a needle.” He knows his mom did that. He never saw it, she never brought people into their apartment, but he knows what it meant that she would go out with no money and come back with a new high.“It’s something you do to make a man happy.” That was the only thing his mom could do sometimes, to keep Willis tame. To keep him from hurting them, from hurting Jason. He hated it, because he couldn’t take her place like he could when Willis was just looking to throw fists. And he knows that not everyone has to worry about being hit, but he’s seen it in TV shows and books; a girl using sex to distract her boyfriend from being upset about something; a girl feeling obligated to go home with a man because he paid for dinner; a husband feeling entitled to have sex with his wife whenever he wants.

“It gives them power and control over you. They like to show off the girls they’ve fucked like they’re trophies.” Like they’re objects. The girls in music videos and advertisements are just decoration.
“It’s all they think women are good for.” Women are traded like cattle, from a father to a husband. Every woman ever married off to a man was expected to give him children. Queens have been killed because she didn’t produce a son.
“It’s all they want. They lie and manipulate and force you into it. And they don’t care that you don’t want it.”
Jason waits for Barbara to tell him that’s not how the world works, that’s he’s exaggerating, that he shouldn’t think that way.
“I know,” she says, and Jason looks up. Her face is sad, but determined. Slowly, she reaches out to take his hand. “I know that’s how a lot of men are. I know you have reason to feel this way. But I need you to listen to me, okay? Not all sex is a bad thing.” Jason tenses, and she squeezes his hand. “It doesn’t always have to be exploitative or forced. It is possible to have sex simply because you want it and enjoy it. I slept with Dick because I wanted to. That’s it. I wanted to feel good, and to share that with him.
“Wanting sex is not a bad thing, even for men. It wasn’t bad that Dick wanted to sleep with me. It would have been bad if he had tried to force it, but he didn’t. He never pressured me. I didn’t feel obligated. Not all interest is bad interest. It’s not always abusive or damaging or unwanted. It’s okay for people to be attracted to each other, and to act on that attraction.”Jason stares at her, feeling like he’s just been told fairies are real. Here’s Barbara, Batgirl , the
smartest, strongest, most incredible woman Jason’s ever met, telling him she likes sex and liked when Dick had sex with her.
It’s not that he thought every woman who ever had sex hated it, it’s just… He can’t imagine being touched, touching someone, that way and being okay with it. Just thinking about it makes him feel guilty and gross. The few times he ever thought about another person when he touched himself, he hated himself after; he doesn’t let himself think like that anymore. But… Babs says it’s okay, that it can be okay.
He’s seen happy relationships in books and movies but he doesn’t know what it looks like in real life.
Maybe it looks like this: Babs and Dick; people who know and trust each other, who care for and respect and love each other.
“I know you think the way you do to protect yourself,” Barbara says. She touches his hair, gently pushing his fringe out of his face. “And I’m not going to tell you that you need to change. You’re very sensitive to this, and if you never feel comfortable or want to experience it for yourself, that’s okay. It doesn’t make you broken or less. I think at this point, just work on trying to accept the fact that other people do want and like sex, and that that’s okay too.”
Jason whispers, “Okay.”
She stays with him for the rest of the evening.
Alfred brings up two plates of food at dinner time.When she leaves, Babs kisses his forehead, and it feels so loving.~Tim is waiting in the hall outside Jason’s door the next morning. He pushes off from leaning on the wall, but stops before he gets too close, looking hesitant. “Hey.”
Jason pulls him into a hug. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mutters into Tim’s hair.
“Are you sure? I think–”“Not yet.” He knows they need to have a conversation, but he’s not ready. He’s not even sure what it needs to be about.
After a moment, Tim presses closer. “Okay.”
Jason spends the day trying to knock out all the dents he put in the Batmobile. He does a pretty good job, he thinks, though there’s nothing he can do about the chips and scratches in the paint.
With Dick working, Jason doesn’t see him until he comes home around six and finds him in the cave working on straightening the bumper. Dick crouches down next to him, inspecting the grill where the hammer had been lodged.
“It’s not pretty,” Jason says, “but it’s not really damaged.”“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself. This thing has faced worse opponents than a fourteen-year-old.” Dick sits down, facing him. He rubs a hand over his mouth. “I need to apologise for yesterday. I wanted us to have an open and honest discussion about what happened, but… I approached the situation like a cop, trying to get to the bottom of it, trying to find out who the aggressor was, and that made it seem like I wasn’t on your side. But I am on your side, Jason. As your parent, I want to know what you were feeling and thinking. This is not an interrogation.”Jason looks at him, tired and still in his uniform. He didn’t even wait to shower and change before coming to talk to him. Eyeing the uniform pointedly, Jason says, “It’s not, officer?”
Dick cracks a sheepish grin. “Maybe I should’ve waited until I got into civvies.”
Sitting back on the concrete, Jason makes himself comfortable against the front of the car. “It’s fine. Did… did Barbara tell you what we talked about last night?”
“No. I didn’t ask, and she wouldn’t have told me if I did.”Jason nods. He didn’t think she would tell anyone what he shared with her, but it’s nice to have that trust confirmed. “You need to know,” he says. “I want you to know because having you look at me like you did yesterday… it sucked.”
It sucked . So he tells him.
He tells Dick about the first time he saw a girl get groped, and how he was too young to really understand what the man was doing but Jason knew it was wrong, and he’d tried to say something, and everyone around had laughed at him– everyone but the girl.
He tells Dick about his mom, and he’s never said those words out loud– my mom had sex for drugs, my mom had sex with my dad to keep him happy so we wouldn’t get beat.
He tells Dick about a book he read in which a girl went out with her friend to a bar a few towns over from home, and she got separated– the friend leaving with some boy– and had no money for a bus or taxi, and it was late at night so when she called her dad for a ride he didn’t answer the phone; she was all alone and a strange man said he would drive her to her house, and he didn’t actually say it but instead heavily implied that the cost would be her hand in his pants, and she did it just to get home.He tells Dick about the boys in his old neighborhood, how they would never touch each other because they were so scared to be seen as gay. Because that was an invitation for harassment and threats of rape– if you like sucking dick so much why don’t you choke on mine.
He tells Dick about the man that had offered to pay for the ramen noodles.
He tells Dick everything he didn’t say out loud to Barbara yesterday, and he can’t help the tears that burn his cheeks.
Dick doesn’t look shocked by anything he says, but he does look very sad. He silently opens his arms and Jason moves over, tucking himself against his side.
He tells Dick what Barbara said, that it’s not always a bad thing and that it hadn’t been a bad thing between the two of them. “I’m not mad at you anymore. I still don’t… like the idea. It’s hard for me to think of it as a good thing. But I trust her.”Wiping his face dry, he sits up, and Dick’s hand stays resting on his shoulder. “When I saw Kon looking at Tim like that, it was the worst thing in the world. We were supposed to be safe . We were home , with you , with people you trusted , with superheroes . And then he touched Tim and I wanted to rip his arm off.”Dick is quiet for a moment, and then, “I understand. I really do. You’re bound to see most interactions like that as predatory and unwanted, but if Tim had told Superboy to back off, he would have.”“You don’t know that, and I couldn’t take that chance.”
“You didn’t give Kon a chance one way or the other.”“So I’m just supposed to let it happen and wait to step in until he’s already been gross to Tim?”“It might not have been gross. If Tim wants to be hit on, then there’s nothing wrong with it.”Jason scoffs. “Tim didn’t want to be hit on.”
“Did you ask him?”“You’re being a cop again,” Jason accuses, anger rising.
Dick sighs. “Sorry, I just– I want to teach you.” He rolls his lips in over his teeth, thinking carefully about what he’ll say next. “You assumed that Tim didn’t want
Kon’s attention. But remember what Babs said; sometimes people do want to be flirted with. Tim might want that too. Maybe not yesterday, maybe not from Kon, but from someone, sometime. You can’t react like that every time a person shows interest in him, because he might be enjoying that interest. He might want to date someone, and kiss them, and someday have sex. You need to find a way to be okay with that.”
Jason wants to yell that Tim would never want that, but according to both Barbara and Dick, he might. Tim might want someone touching his face and calling him pretty and kissing him and grabbing–
Heart pounding, Jason shoves those thoughts away. He digs his nails into his palm, angry and confused, both at the world and himself.
“But even if Tim doesn’t want to date Superboy,” Dick says, “it doesn’t make what he did as horrendous a thing as you took it to be. If he grabbed Tim inappropriately, or said dirty shit, that’d be one thing. But just being male doesn’t mean his flirting or desire is inherently bad. You might think I’m naive, but I do know the terrible things people do and say. I’ve been harassed by men. I’ve also been harassed by women. And I’ve been asked out very nicely by men.”Jason’s not sure he believes that. “Kon wasn’t being nice .”“What if he had been? If Kon had been very nice and respectful about it, and not touched Tim, and just asked him on an innocent date, would you still have gotten upset?”Jason doesn’t know. He can’t imagine that happening, doesn’t know what that would look like. He feels very tired, suddenly. It’s exhausting to constantly see the bad, to see the enemy everywhere.
Dick squeezes his shoulder. “You don’t need to have an answer right now, just think about it. This is all a lot to deal with, and you’re handling it really well. Aside from the, uh…” Dick nods at the car, giving him a grin, which Jason can’t help but mimic weakly. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Thank you for talking to me about it.”
“Sorry, about the batmobile. And for yelling at you to fuck off.”
With an easy shrug, Dick stands, pulling Jason up with him. “I think most parents get yelled at to fuck off at least once. I’ve definitely said worse to Bruce.”“Should I apologise to Bruce for denting his car?”“Psh, this is my car now.”~“You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”Bruce doesn’t smile, but Jason can still see he’s amused. “Is there something about linear equations that reminded you of dating?” he asks, leaning over to inspect the problems on the worksheet.Jason huffs a small laugh. “No, I was just thinking about… stuff. Not math stuff.”“Hm. Well no, I’m not presently in a relationship.”
“But you have been, before.”“Yes.”
“And you…” Jason ducks his head, but forces out the words. “You had sex.”If Bruce is uncomfortable or surprised by the question, he doesn’t show it. “Yes.”There’s a moment of quiet while Jason forms his next question and Bruce patiently lets him.“How were you totally certain that the person you were with wanted it?”“I asked them,” Bruce says.
“Every single time?”“Well, no, probably not. But there are ways of knowing. Sometimes it’s very clear what they want.”“But what if you were wrong ?” Jason tap tap tap s his pencil on the tabletop.
Bruce looks at him intently. “Are you afraid you took advantage of someone?”
Rearing back sharply, Jason says, “No! Not me, I wouldn’t– I don’t. I just… Last week I talked with Dick and Barbara about relationships and consent, and I don’t think they lied to me, but. They want me to believe in a world where people are all happy and only have sex for the right reasons. But I know that’s not true.”“I would assume,” Bruce says slowly, “they want you to know that ideal world is an option for you. It’s not for everyone, unfortunately. A lot of people find themselves in terrible situations where they don’t have the freedom to be with who they want, how they want. They may find themselves on the street,” he says pointedly, but not unkindly, “and they’re forced into something they don’t want to do. But that’s not you anymore, Jason. And neither are you the kind of person to force it on anybody else.”
Jason swallows. “I just can’t stop feeling like… like it’s wrong. No matter how many times someone tells me it’s okay, I can’t believe it. My brain just rejects it.”
Bruce nods in understanding as if what Jason just said was very wise. “When we’ve grown to view something a certain way, it can take a long time to change how we think about it. You’ve already done more than most people are willing to do, just by listening and being open to new ideas.”They go back to Algebra, but Jason is distracted for the rest of the lesson. Everything from the past few days is buzzing around in his head, clashing with what he’s known his whole life.
He looks out the window at the cold January sky. It’s a new year. Maybe it’ll be a new Jason.
He’s not sure about that. But he has a lot to think about.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Kon’s boots hit the grass with a hard thump as he lands in Batman’s massive backyard, way opposite of how he knows Clark would do it, touching down in that pointy-feet way he does, without a sound. Jason is waiting for him on the wide patio, leaning against a white metal table in front of a set of French doors. He’s wrapped up in a coat and hat and scarf, and Kon’s a little bit jealous as he suppresses a shiver because New Jersey in January is fucking cold, and all Kon has in way of warmth is his black leather jacket. But what’s he supposed to do, fight bad guys wearing a parka and ear muffs like a dork? He has a look to maintain!

With a sigh, Kon fixes his post-flight hair with his fingers and walks over to the table.

“Heard you wanted to talk.” He sets his jaw and tries to look down at Jason, even though the guy is a little bit taller. But whatever, Kon’s totally stronger. “Gonna call me gross again?”

“No.” Jason pauses, chewing over his words before he says them. “I have some questions.”

Kon clenches his fists tight. “You treat me like shit for being gay, and now– what? You want my help? A damn interview? Fuck off.”

“I didn’t do what I did because you’re gay, it was just… I had to protect Tim.” Jason sighs, rubbing a gloved hand down his face. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? For making you feel like it’s bad or gross to be gay. It’s not, and I don’t feel that way.”

With an affected shrug, Kon scoffs. “Hey, man, you didn’t make me feel shit. I know what I am, and I know it’s okay. Don’t need you to tell me that.”

He presses his lips together hard, looking at the big oak trees to his right. What he said… well, it’s mostly true. He

doesn’t

need someone else validating him, but when it feels like the whole world is trying to tear you down, it’s just good to hear. It’s nice to know there’s one less person that hates you for something that’s part of you. He’s lucky, he knows, to be tougher and stronger than steel, because it lets him live without fear of some of the terrible things that happen to people like him. But bulletproof skin doesn’t protect you from cutting words and judging looks.

But he’s cool. He doesn’t care what shit people spew, and he’s, like, the

coolest

guy on the planet, he knows that, so.

Idiots like that can’t hurt Superboy. Right?

“Okay, well, that’s good.”

They stand there as the silence grows awkward around them.

Kon huffs, rolling his eyes. “What did you wanna ask? Spit it out.”

Pulling out a chair, Jason sits down. On the table there’s a tray with a plate of cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate, and he grabs one for himself, motioning for Kon to sit too. He does; he’s still kinda pissed, but he’s not about to turn up hot chocolate. When he’s settled, Jason asks, “If Tim had told you to stop hitting on him, would you have backed off?”

“What? Yeah, of course,” he answers, frowning. “You didn’t think I would?”

Jason shakes his head.

“What kind of guy do you think I am?” Kon asks.

“That’s the thing. I assumed you were like every other guy out there, and every other guy out there wouldn’t have stopped.” He wraps his hands around his mug, hunching his shoulders defensively. “I don’t really want to go into the whole thing, about why I thought that, but… just know I had a reason to, okay? It wasn’t

you

specifically I had a problem with.”

Kon whistles. “You must have known some pretty bad dudes, then.”

Jason looks up, meeting his eyes. “Yeah. I have.”

Nodding, Kon reaches over and snags a cookie. “Hey, man, I’ve seen some bad dudes, too.” You can’t be a superhero for long without dropping in on a gang of men closing in on a girl in a dark alley, or jumping between a man’s fist and his wife or kid’s face. Ignoring the way his gut has turned sour, he shakes away those memories and the images popping up in his head of what could have happened to Jason to give him that angry, haunted look in his eyes, and takes a bite. “This is good.”

“Thanks,” Jason says.

“You made them?”

“Alfred gave me the recipe.” Jason looks away, over to the garden. It looks kinda sad under the grey sky, but it’s impressive that anything is growing at all at this time of year.

Kon watches him.

“Doesn’t it– don’t you feel bad? Hitting on someone?” Jason asks tentatively. “Don’t you feel… like a creep?”

“No,” he answers honestly. “It’s just some harmless flirting.”

“It can make people really uncomfortable.”

“Did it just make you uncomfortable, or Tim too?” Kon asks, wondering for the first time. Obviously it had pissed Jason off, but Tim had said Kon didn’t do anything wrong.

“I–” Jason stops, bites his lip. “I assumed he was, but… I’ve been told it’s possible he wasn’t, and I haven’t actually asked him about it yet.”

“Why the hell not? It’s been weeks, dude.”

Jason looks uneasy and guilty, and Kon has no idea what the hell is going on between these two guys.

Instead of answering, Jason asks, “Was Tim giving you signals? Bruce said you just know when someone likes you or not, but that doesn’t seem very clear.”

“I thought he was into me. I mean, what’s not to like?” Jason rolls his eyes and Kon grins. He sips his cocoa, thinking back on it. “Maybe it wasn’t so much that I thought he was saying yes, but that he wasn’t saying no? Like, I kinda just hit on people until they reject me.”

Jason scowls. “I don’t think that’s the right way to do it.”

Kon hums, considering. Maybe it’s not. “I don’t think it was your call. You said yourself that you don’t know what Tim wanted. It was up to him.” Jason opens his mouth but Kon cuts him off, leaning forward over the table. “No, man, it’s good that you want to protect him, but you need to give Tim a chance to look out for himself. You gotta trust him to know what he wants, yeah? And maybe what he wants is to get with a super hot superhero,” he says playfully, tilting his head and winking.

Jason’s mouth twitches, and Kon doesn’t know if it’s a bitten-back smile or scream.

“Seriously though,” Kon says, “you need to make sure he knows you’re not gonna freak the next time he talks to a boy. I don’t know if he’s into dudes or not, but the way you acted, if he is, he probably thinks you hate him.”

“I don’t!” Jason cries, looking like he just got slapped, face pale and horrified. “I don’t hate him, I’d

never

hate him.”

“Tell him that. If he is gay, he needs to know that. It’s hard, being gay. Especially at our age. Especially when you feel judged for it. You’re his best friend, right? Imagine believing your best friend thinks you’re gross.” He remembers that feeling before Bart knew, that wondering how he would react, that worrying if he wouldn’t want to be friends anymore. Bart is down with it, says things are a lot more chill in the future, and where (when?) he grew up, it’s not as big a deal. So he has Bart and Clark and Ma and Pa, but that feeling never really goes away because every time he meets someone new it’s there in the back of his mind. He doesn’t hide who he is, doesn’t censor himself, and there’s a constant awareness that the second it comes up, this new person will know, and they’ll have

thoughts

or

feelings

about it, and it might change how they see him, and they might

tell him

that they have these thoughts and feelings that change how they see him.

“Oh, god,” Jason whines miserably, rubbing his hands over his face. He curls into himself, pulling his feet up on the seat edge and hugging his knees. “Oh, fuck!”

“Hey, dude, I’m just letting you know so you can talk to him about it. I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit,” Kon says worriedly. He can hear the way Jason’s heartbeat has started thundering in his chest, the little gasping breaths he’s sucking in. Reaching across the gap between their chairs, he grabs Jason’s forearm to try to comfort him, or ground him, or something. But Jason makes a wounded sound and yanks free, eyes wild. Kon leans back, hands up in surrender, and this is the second time they’ve been in this position, except last time Jason was furious, and right now he’s terrified. The difference is surprising. Last time Kon had no idea what his problem was, but now… He thinks he might know, and it makes his gut turn sour again.

“Yo, it’s okay,” he tries. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Jason watches him for a moment, and then closes his eyes and steadies his breathing, heart eventually closing in on normal again. In the meantime, Kon finishes off his cocoa.

“Do you really think he thinks I hate him?” Jason asks sadly, apparently content to ignore the freak out he just had.

Shrugging, Kon answers, “It’s possible, but don’t put too much weight on what I think. I barely know you guys.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“That’s what I’m saying, man.”

Jason lets out a long breath, uncurling and putting his feet back on the concrete. He seems like he’s chilled out now, so Kon takes a risk and asks,

“If it turns out he is into me, give him my number?” The glare he gets in response has him flinching back because he does

not

want to get slapped again, even if it doesn’t actually hurt. “Geez, man, I was joking! Kinda. But you really can’t blame me for thinking you two were dating, when you react like that.”

“We’re not,” he growls.

“Uh, you sure about that?” he asks, eyebrows raised, and he realises they’ve only talked about how

Tim

may or may not like boys. “Do you like him?”

Jason stares, eyes wide and unreadable.

“You know,” Kon says slowly, remembering how Jason asked if he feels like a creep when he flirts… “it’d be okay if you did like him like that.”

“No it– Everyone keeps saying stuff is okay, but...” He shakes his head, face twisted up in anger or confusion or both. “It’s– not.”

Kon feels like he’s been thrown into the middle of something, scrambling for bits of a conversation that already happened without him. “Why? Is it okay for someone else to be gay, but not you?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” he demands.

“It’s, it’s

me

, I can’t.” His heart is starting to pick up again, hard and stressed.

“Look, you don’t wanna be a scumbag, right?”

“...Yeah,” Jason says, and it seems like there might be more to it be he doesn’t want to say.

“Then just don’t be a scumbag about it.”

Jason stares at him again.

Kon sighs. “If Tim doesn’t want you to come onto him, then don’t do it. If he’s into you, then go for it. That’s all there is to it.” Jason starts to open his mouth but Kon cuts him off. “If you’re not sure if he’s into it, ask him. If he says yes, you’re golden, and totally not a scumbag.”

“Oh,” he says softly, and he doesn’t look totally convinced, but he’s definitely thinking about it.

“Yeah.” Kon figures that’s as far as Jason’s going to get today, and he himself has totally reached his limit on all this emotional stuff, and all the cookies are gone anyway, so he stands up. “Look, man, it was real fun being your gay Yoda or whatever, but I’m gonna jet now.”

“Gay Yoda,” Jason echos, and then he snorts. “You and Tim would probably be good friends.”

“Right on.” And then, because he can’t resist, “Like I said, give him my number.” He grins at Jason, who looks like he can’t decide whether to find the joke in that or not. Kon hesitates, and then adds, “I think all of us could be friends. Someday. If you’re cool, it’s whatever.”

Jason stands too so they’re eye to eye, gives him a considering look, and then nods. “Yeah, I think so too. Except, you know, I don’t actually have your number.”

Grinning again, Kon asks, “Got a pen?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jason comes dashing into the room and yells, “I don’t hate you!” and Tim startles so hard he tumbles right off the couch, flailing and smacking his elbow on the coffee table edge.
“ Ow! What the fuck?” Tim yells back, blinking up at him from the carpet. “ What? ”“If you like boys, it’s fine,” he says, panting and flushed, wrapped up like he just came in from the cold. “I don’t care, I… I don’t think you’re gross!”“ Space, the final frontier… ” Captain Kirk says though the TV, and that weird music plays, and Tim just sits there for a minute, rubbing his arm, and Jason gets his breath back. “ Captain’s log, star date… ”Tim stands up and hunts around in the couch cushions to find the remote, then turns the show off. “What is happening right now?”“I don’t know if you’re gay, but if you are, then I need you know I don’t have a problem with it, okay? I swear I don’t hate you. I’m so sorry if I made you think that. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says rushed and heavy. He looks painfully earnest, like he’ll die if Tim doesn’t believe him.
“I know that,” Tim says, frowning. “What made you…” he waves a hand at Jason’s disheveled state, “think you had to come yell this at me?”“You do?” Jason breathes in relief. He slips off his hat, gloves, scarf, and coat, shedding the winter clothes now that he’s inside, and his hair stands up in all directions, and Tim wants to touch, to smooth it down. “I just talked with Superboy. He pointed out that my reaction when he hit on you, well, it seemed like I hated gay people, and if you were gay you might think…”
“You talked to Kon,” Tim says flatly, feeling his insides crumble a little. He knows Jason’s been dealing with some stuff, but he won’t talk to him about it. He’s talked to everyone else, it seems– even Kon . But not Tim. Ever since that day in the cave, Jason has been skittish and distant around him, not hanging out with him a lot, shooting him curious looks like he’s never seen him before.Tim’s been trying really hard to be patient, to not be offended, to not feel ignored, to tell himself that Jason needs time and space to do what he needs to do in his own way, but it still sucks. It still hurts. Tim wants to help. He hates that, for whatever reason, Jason has decided Tim can’t help him with this, even after everything else they’ve helped each other through. It hurts him to see Jason struggling and be pushed away. And even that he could deal with if Jason had just acknowledged it, just said, I know things are weird but I can’t talk about it right now but I still like you. In a rush, Tim gets angry. “I didn’t think you thought I was gross,” he snaps. “Your problem wasn’t that Kon was gay, it was that you thought he was a threat to me. I got that the second it happened. I listened to what you said to Dick and me after it happened.”Jason blinks back at him in surprise.
“You would have known that if you’d just fucking talked to me! You told me, the next day, you didn’t want to talk about it, and I said okay. But it’s been a month, asshole! It’s been a month and you’ve talked to everyone else but me! I haven’t been over here worried this whole time that you hate me for being gay, I’ve been hurt and frustrated that my best friend doesn’t trust me!”He’s close to shouting now, and tears burn behind his eyes. Every bad thought he’s been burying down, a month of pent-up confusion and pain, comes rushing out of him. “You don’t trust me and you don’t need me! My parents didn’t want to spend time with me, Bruce and Dick don’t need me as Robin, and now you – No one needs my help. No one cares if I’m around.”Wiping a sleeve roughly over his eyes, he turns and bolts. Jason shouts after him but Tim just runs faster.
~It’s nighttime when a knock sounds at Tim’s door, banging hard to be heard over the music that’s been blasting for the past hour. If he stays quiet, they’ll go away. He wants to stay quiet. He wants to hide under his covers forever, stewing in his embarrassment and anger, and make Jason worry and feel shut out like Tim has for the past few weeks. That’s what he really wants, and that’s why he stands up and opens the door. Because he doesn’t want to want to hurt the people he loves.
Leaving the door open, he silently goes back to sit on his bed, and hears Jason click it shut.
Jason goes over to the stereo and turns it down. “I should’ve talked to you sooner,” he starts. “I’m sorry for making you feel unwanted. That’s not true, okay? You’re completely wanted. I want you more than anything.”
Tim’s eyes snap over to see that Jason’s face is bright red, but he doesn’t take it back.
“You’re my favorite person, and you have been helping. I knew that as soon as I was ready, you’d be there. That meant a lot to me. But I get how it was really unfair to you. You’re not just a tool to put away and pick up when I need.”
Faced with Jason’s miserable expression, Tim lets himself accept that instead of holding on to the anger. “Nice metaphor,” he says.
Jason grins a little. “Thanks. I have another one– a book to take off the shelf when I’m bored or sad.”
Tim nods. “The tool one’s better.”“Can I come over there?” When Tim scoots over, Jason sits down, facing him. “It takes me a long time to… come to terms with things, or change the way I think about something. I have to think about it for a long time, and it’s hard for me to focus on more than one thing at a time. I know you can have fifty things in your brain at once, but I can’t do that. I’ve had a lot to think about since that day, and I had to do it… methodically. And when I’m around you, it– you screw it all up.”
Tim flinches back, stung.
Looking slightly panicked, Jason reaches out and takes Tim’s hands. “That– that sounded bad, I’m sorry. But it’s true, I… I don’t know why, but you made it hard to think about all the stuff I’ve been thinking about, especially when some of that stuff is about you.” He grimaces, shakes his head. “God, this isn’t coming out right, is it?”“I don’t know,” Tim says. “I don’t know anything, Jason. I don’t know what stuff you’ve been thinking or what you’ve been talking to people about.”“I wish you could just look inside my brain and see it all.”
Turning his hands so that their palms fit together, Tim squeezes. “You want to try telling me?”Slowly, he nods. He swallows a few times, and Tim shifts closer until their knees are touching. Softly, Jason speaks. “One night, I was trying to buy food but I didn’t have enough money…”~Jason talks for hours.
He talks about every time he’s been touched wrong, or hit, or made to feel unsafe. He talks about his conversations with Barbara and Dick and Bruce and Kon. He talks about everything he’s been struggling with.
He talks, and Tim listens, heart breaking but grasp tight.
~Tim wakes up wrapped around Jason. He remembers everything he said last night and pulls him in as close as he can.~They’re eating pancakes for breakfast, the two of them alone in the kitchen, when Jason clears his throat. “So…” he says gently, “are you gay?”Tim nearly chokes, but manages to swallow. “I– maybe,” he confesses, his whole being lighting up red in embarrassment and excitement and fear. He licks his lips. “A little.” Because it’s not all boys, it’s just Jason, and he still doesn’t know what that means.
“Oh. Did you want Kon to hit on you?”“No,” he answers. I wanted you to hit on me is on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows that down too.
“But you…” Jason drags his fork through a puddle of maple syrup, eyes tracking the movement. “You might want that. Someday.”
“Not with Kon,” he says carefully, “but with someone else, yeah.”

Jason nods slowly, and looks up at him very seriously. “Okay.”
~When Tim walks into the theater room and sees Jason already sitting in one of the huge, plush seats, he plops himself down right next to him. He sets his big bowl of popcorn on his lap and Jason immediately reaches over to take some. “Oh, hey. He invited you too?”“Invited to what?” Jason asks. “Why are you here?”“B told me to come watch a movie with him.”“He told me we’re having class in here today.”

“I guess you’re watching a movie for class,” Tim says, and shoves popcorn in his mouth.“More like a documentary,” Bruce corrects as he enters. He hands each of them a folder. Tim opens his and finds several worksheets, a few pieces of blank notebook paper, and a pen.“What is this?” he asks with a sinking feeling. “This looks like school. You know I’m not your student, right?”
“You are today,” Bruce says with finality. “There’s one course I’m sure Gotham Middle School is not covering properly, and I’m going to make sure you’re educated.”“What course?” Tim asks.
Beside him, Jason makes a choking sound. “Tim,” he gasps quietly. “ Look at the papers.”
Tim does, and catches words like sexually transmitted disease and birth control and anal contusion . His mouth drops open in dismay and Bruce says, confirming that this is a goddamn nightmare,
“Sexual education.”“ No ,” Tim cries. “No, no, no, no! You said we were watching a movie!”“I’ve put together a very comprehensive film,” Bruce says. “The packets in your folders contain the same information, which you can keep as a reference for later. The blank pages are for note-taking. There will be a test at the end. Jason, you’ll be getting a credit for this, but I intend for you both to learn.”“This isn’t happening,” Tim whispers, terrified, face burning red. He wants desperately to run away; Bruce is out of the wheelchair now, but probably not healed enough to be able to catch him. God, he wants to at least not be sitting right next to Jason, practically touching him. He’s contemplating getting up to move two seats over when Bruce starts the movie with the remote control and his whole body freezes in horror. The title flashes across the screen in curvy letters, Your Changing Body . Then it’s Bruce lounging in his favorite armchair in the sitting room next to the crackling fireplace, holding up diagrams and photographs and saying things like, “When aroused, the penis fills with blood and increases in size…” and, “Thorough preparation is key…” and stuff about condoms and consent and Tim pulls his legs up and buries his face in his knees.
“Tim, pay attention,” Bruce– real-life Bruce– says calmly. “You can stay in your ball, but lift your head and watch. You’re getting graded on this.”
“Why am I getting graded?” he whines incredulously.
“I need to be sure you’ve absorbed the information.”“This is not fucking happening ,” Tim whispers again, but it is, and he looks up to watch Bruce demonstrate right and wrong ways of putting on a condom, using a cucumber as a prop. “Can’t we at least turn off the lights?”
“Can’t take notes in the dark, son,” Bruce answers.
Next to him, he hears the faint scratching of pen on paper, and he glances over incredulously. “You’re actually taking notes?”
Jason tries to shrug casually, but he looks just as distressed as Tim is. “I’m getting graded.”God he’s such a dork. He’s a giant nerd and he tries so hard with everything he does, and he’s really cute when his cheeks are all pink like this, and his hair is getting long and Tim wants to touch it again. And he’s looking at Jason and hearing about sex, so it’s hard not to think about Jason and sex…Tim makes a pained noise, shifting uncomfortably. How? How is he actually getting hard right now ? Fuck, there’s something seriously wrong with him!Thinking it’s the movie he’s upset about, Jason places a consoling hand on his leg. To distract himself (and stop himself from slapping it off) Tim tunes back into what’s happening on the screen, which is… Bruce demonstrating something with two fingers…If he had a lighter, Tim would be setting himself on fire.This is one of the worst moments of his life. This is wrong . This is an injustice .
Tim needs revenge .
When the movie finally, blessedly ends, Bruce turns off the screen and stands in front of them. “Any questions, boys?”
Oh. Oh yes, Tim has questions. Gathering up all of his rage- and mortification-fueled courage, he asks, “Have you ever been fucked up the ass?”Bruce blinks at him. “Excuse me?”“I’m just wondering if you really know what you’re talking about with all this stuff.” He can feel Jason’s stare on the side of his face but refuses to look. It’s taking all of his will-power to meet Bruce’s eyes.
Bruce looks back at him calmly and says, “I have experience with the subject. Do you need references?”“You ever got someone pregnant?”“Not that I know of.”
“Any STD's?”
“Yes.”
He’s not even flinching. Tim needs to whip out the big guns.
“Is it a problem to come a lot? Because sometimes I look down and I’m like, woah, that’s a lot of come.”Crossing his arms, Bruce takes a small moment, then answers, “Very low semen volume can be indicative of health issues, but… No, you’re fine.”
“What do I do if I can’t reach my prostate? My fingers are pretty short,” he says, waggling them.
He takes a careful breath. “That’s– There are some options available to you. Toys, for instance.”
“Hm,” Tim hums, considering. “Do you think Alfred’s ever–”“Okay, that’s enough,” Bruce interrupts, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. “Jason, feel free to come to me later with any questions you may have. Tim…” He sighs. Shakes his head. Leaves.
Tim lets out a burst of nervous, yet triumphant laughter. He finally looks over at Jason, whose wide, disbelieving gaze is firmly fixed on the floor.
“You’re insane,” he says, voice distant.
“You love me anyway.”“I do,” Jason sighs, sounding vaguely bewildered by it. He stands, folder clutched tightly up against his stomach. “I’m gonna go crawl in a hole and never look at Bruce again.”
Alone, Tim picks up the forgotten popcorn and allows himself a smug smile. “Got out of the test.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Surprise!”

Jason does a good job of acting surprised, even though Dick is positive Tim warned him ahead of time.

He smiles at Dick and Bruce and Alfred and Barbara, at the decorations and cake and the big silver and white banner that reads

Happy Anniversary!

, and that happiness isn’t acting at all.

Swooping him up in a hug, Dick swings Jason around the room. Jason has gotten so tall that his toes scrape the carpet. “One year!” he says into his kid’s ear. “The best year ever. I love you, buddy.”

“I love you, too,” Jason mumbles back wetly. He doesn’t fight to be let down.

~

Dick is walking down the hall fresh out of the bat suit when he hears raised voices coming from Tim’s bedroom.

“You fucking asshole!”

“I’ll kill you!”

“Watch out, Jason!”

The door to Tim’s room slams open under the full weight of his body, and he runs in, grabbing a nearby standing lamp and holding it at the ready to swing, shouting, “Get away from my kids!”

Tim, Jason, Kon, and Bart look up at him from the floor. Jason and Kon have controllers in their hands, and on the TV, video game characters are facing each other, waiting to fight. Kind of like Dick is.

“Oh,” he says, setting down the lamp. The shade is crooked, and when he tries to straighten it, it falls off. “Shit, uh. I’ll buy you a new one. What’s all this?”

“What does it look like?” Jason asks, looking like the most embarrassed teenager that ever existed. “

God

, Dick.”

“Well, I didn’t know. That they were here.” When the four boys just stare at him, he shifts uneasily. “You should’ve asked– I mean, it’s not like you need

permission

, really, but I’d like to know when… when you have friends over.”

“Bruce said it was okay.”

“Okay, cool,” Dick says, nodding. “But, uh. I’m not Bruce, Bruce isn’t me. If Bruce knows something, that doesn’t mean I know it too.”

“You weren’t here…” Jason says slowly.

“Yeah, I get it. Okay, uh, never mind. So, are you boys spending the night? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Dick, sir!” Bart chirps.

“But not, um.” He hesitates. “Not in the same rooms, right?”

Tim’s face turns bright pink and Jason gasps. “Dick!”

Throwing up his hands defensively, he says, “Hey, I’ve got four teenagers, two of which I know are gay, unsupervised over night! I’m trying to parent!”

“You’re being offensive!” Jason cries.

Kon tries to hide a grin behind his hand. Dick notices his hair his still spiked and he’s got all the piercings in, but he’s wearing sweatpants and fluffy socks and a big t-shirt. The others are similarly cozy-looking. Bart has a Captain Marvel blanket tied around his neck like a cape. There’s several pizza boxes lying around, mostly empty, along with some cartons of ice cream and soda cans.

“Okay,” Dick says. “All right, I’ll just… leave you all alone.”

He turns around, and there’s a chorus of

bye

and

goodnight

.

Tim and Jason have

friends

over. Jason is letting other people

stay the night

.

Shutting the door behind him, he can’t help the huge smile that breaks over his face.

~

“And this is a C chord,” Dick says, demonstrating on the old acoustic guitar in his lap that had belonged to his mom. Next to him, Jason has a newer one that they’d picked out at the music shop earlier. He adjusts Jason’s fingers on the neck of the guitar, and Jason strums. “Perfect.”

Dick plucks out a jaunty tune and sings, “He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease, a daring young man on the flying Trapeze…”

April showers rain down against the window, adding its own music to theirs.

~

On the morning of March twenty-first, Dick almost steps on a donut left just outside his bedroom door. It’s got extra sprinkles and the number twenty-five written in blue icing.

~

Bruce and Tim are play-wrestling on the mats in the training section of the cave. Or maybe just wrestling, it’s hard to tell at this point. Bruce is still healing. He might actually be giving it his all, and his all still just isn’t very much. Dick can see how careful he’s being of his back. That’s all Bruce has been lately– careful. He hasn’t gone back to work at W.E. He hasn’t even left the house, that Dick knows of.

Tim is holding his own pretty well until Bruce pins him face-down, arm twisted behind him.

“Give him a wedgie!” Dick yells from the weight bench, doing arm curls.

“Hey! No!” Tim shrieks, and wriggles furiously as Bruce laughs. He manages to get away and points angrily at Dick. “Not cool.”

Dick just grins at him.

Off to the side, Jason is building the vehicle he’d designed for Tim.

Alfred appears, dispensing glasses of lemonade. When he stops by Jason, he leans down and Dick is near enough to hear,

“It is very good to create a safe space for yourself and allow yourself to heal. But please,” Alfred says, and he’s talking to Jason but looking at Bruce, “do not stay hidden away in the place forever.”

And he could just be talking about the past few months, but Dick thinks Alfred means more than that. He means the years of hiding that Bruce has been doing; hiding his pain, hiding himself away behind masks.

Jason blinks, taking the glass. “Okay. Um, thanks, Alf.”

Alfred moves on.

Jason stares at the wrench in his hand for a long moment.

~

“I’ve made a decision,” Jason announces at dinner sometime in May. “I’m going back to school.”

Tim tenses. “Are you– you’re sure you want that?”

“I need to do it,” he replies. “I’m better now, and I think I’m ready.” He looks at Bruce and Dick. “Thank you for homeschooling me. But it’s time to– to go back out.”

“Okay,” Dick says, smiling. He is so proud of his kid.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

A thick folder lands with a thud on the coffee table in front of Jason, making him look up. Tim is standing over him.

“Put away your knitting, grandma. We’ve got work to do.”

Holding up the project, he says, “Look, it’s a baby sweater. Or, it will be. Cute, right?”

“Why are you knitting something for a baby? You don’t know any babies.”

“I’m gonna donate it to a shelter.”

Tim closes his eyes like he’s in pain. “God, I love you,” he mumbles. He opens his eyes. “Yes, it’s extremely cute. Freaking adorable. But like I said, we have work to do.”

Setting aside the half-finished cardigan, Jason asks, “What work?”

“This,” Tim says proudly pointing at the folder, “is everything you need to know before your first day of high-school. Class schedule, a map of the school, book list, supply list, etcetera.”

“We got our schedules already? School doesn’t start for another sixteen days.”

“Counting down the days. What a nerd.” Waving a dismissive hand, Tim answers, “I hacked their system, got it early. Figured you’d want plenty of time to prepare.”

Jason’s heart flutters a little bit, and he smiles warmly. “Thanks.”

Tim looks dazed, and then he clears his throat. “You’re welcome.”

Flipping through the pages, Jason laughs. “You did background checks on all the teachers and staff!”

“Check out the map. I marked your classes’ locations and the best routes.”

“These are the

blueprints

, Tim.”

“Tell me you don’t appreciate it,” he replies defiantly.

“I totally do.” Pressing two fingers gently to Tim’s cheek, he tells him, “You’re the best.”

Cheeks pink, he bats his hand away. “Come on, let’s go for a drive.”

“We went this morning,” Jason points out.

“So?”

Jason grins. Tim takes every opportunity to drive the vehicle Jason built for him– for them, since he made it a two-seater. “So I guess I’ll study up on this stuff later,” he says, setting aside the papers and standing up. “Let’s go see if we can get it over fifty miles per hour this time.”

“You are my kind of man, Todd,” Tim says, already on his way out the door.

And you’re mine

, Jason thinks, feeling so fond his heart might just explode. What did he ever do to earn such an amazing best friend?

~

There’s a soft knock, and then Tim peeks his head inside Jason’s room.

“Hey,” Jason says, waving him in. He’s packing his backpack for tomorrow. Inside it he’s got two binders– one for the four classes before lunch and one for the three after lunch, both with different color dividers for each class. He’s got a pouch full of stationary. He’s got books. He’s got the folder of information Tim gave him, even though he memorised it.

Coming closer, Tim hands over a watch.

“What’s this for?” Jason asks. “My birthday was last week.”

“Yeah, yeah, big bad fifteen,” Tim says, rolling his eyes. This isn’t a birthday thing, it’s just… Let me show you. Press the red button on the side.”

Jason does, and then the watch on Tim’s wrist lets out a fast, high-pitched beeping tone. He presses it again and it stops. Curious, he presses the green button next to it. Tim’s watch rings once, low.

“Red means something’s wrong and we need to find each other,” Tim explains. “Green means, well I guess it’s just to say hi or check in. It means everything’s fine. Mine does it too.” He demonstrates, pressing the buttons and making Jason’s watch sing.

“

Awesome

,” Jason breathes. “Tim, this is amazing.”

Shrugging, Tim says, “It wasn’t that hard.”

“No, the fact that you thought of it and built it, just for me. For us.”

“It’s no four-wheeler.”

“It’s perfect,” Jason says, pulling Tim into a hug. “Thank you.”

~

Jason and Tim stand on the front steps of Gotham Academy, hand in hand. A sea of students flows around them, excited chatter filling the air. Some of the kids give them strange looks, but they ignore it. Jason squeezes the strap of his backpack. “I’m ready.”

They walk into the school. Jason knows exactly where to go, because of Tim’s map, but Tim walks with him to his locker anyway. He seems really hesitant to leave, but eventually the warning bell chimes and he doesn’t have a choice but to separate and go to his own locker, and then to his own class.

“I’ll see you third period,” he says, slowly edging away. They have Algebra together, though that’s the only class they share this year. They’re in the same grade again, both freshmen; while Tim was in eighth grade last year, Jason completed the coursework for the entirety of junior high.

“I’ll be fine,” Jason assures him. He will be. He’s nervous, but prepared. When Tim stays staring at him worriedly, Jason moves forward and tugs him close, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip. “I know today won’t be perfect, and some things will be hard for me, but I can handle it. If I need to, I’ll call you.”

Tim nods. “Yeah, okay. You got this. Just– just check in, please?”

“I will,” he promises, leaning down to briefly touch his forehead to Tim’s. He pulls away. “Third period. See you then.”

Jason goes to class. It’s alright. It’s weird to have to do everything at the same time and pace as everyone else, but he can adjust.

In second period, Spanish II, the girl next to Jason talks to him a lot. She smiles and flips her hair, and once even reaches out and brushes his arm with her fingers. It startles him, and his hand strays to his watch, hovering over the red button, but he shakes his head. He’s fine. It’s fine. It’s nothing. He tries to just focus on the teacher instead.

When he gets to Algebra, he sees Tim already there and smiles. Tim is arguing with the teacher about something.

“This is barbaric,” he’s saying, waving his arms for emphasis. “What happened to

freedom

? Isn’t this

America

?”

“No,” the teacher says, “this is my classroom and in my classroom we assign seats alphabetically. I’m sorry you can’t sit next to your girlfriend, Mr. Drake. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Face red, Tim sputters, “It’s not– he’s not my girlfriend! I mean, it’s just– uhg, whatever,” he mumbles, turning away with a pout. He sees Jason. “We can’t sit together.”

“Okay,” Jason says, disappointed but amused.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” he answers, “I’m good.”

The moment class is over, Tim is next to him. “I’ll walk you to the music room. It’s on the way to my fourth period.”

“No it’s not.”

Tim shrugs, leading the way down the hall. “So how’s it been so far?”

“Good. It’s weird. I don’t know, I don’t– I don’t love it. But it’s good. Good for me.”

“No one giving you any shit?”

Jason laughs. “No one even talks to me. Except this girl in Spanish. I think… I think she was flirting with me?”

Tim stops dead in his tracks, making another student bump into him and shoot them a mean look. “What?”

Uncomfortable, Jason says, “I mean, I think she was. I don’t really know about that stuff, but it seemed… like she liked me.”

“Of course she did,” Tim replies, frowning. “Do you like her?”

Pulling him forward, he says, “Come on, we’re gonna be late. And no, I don’t even know her.”

“Do you want to get to know her?” Tim presses.

“Not really.”

“So you’re not gonna start dating her.”

“Was that a question?” Jason shakes his head.
“I don’t want to date anybody.”

“It would be okay if you did want to. If–” Tim lets out a heavy breath. “If you wanted to date her, or… someone else. Anyone. It’d be okay.”

They’ve reached the music room. Grabbing the handle to open the door, Jason says, “I don’t need to date anyone, Tim. I’ve got you. I’ll see you later.”

He goes inside.

He ends up liking orchestra. He probably would have signed up even if an elective course wasn’t required; he’s gotten pretty good at the guitar since Dick started teaching him. He chooses the cello as his instrument. It’s strings, so he’s already familiar with the concept. It’s kind of big, but since Alfred or Dick drive them to and from school, it’s not like he’ll need to carry it long distances.

He and Tim don’t have lunch at the same time, but Jason doesn’t sit alone. Tim’s friend Ives plops down on the bench next to him and starts talking as if they’ve known each other for years, rather than having met just that one horrifying time.

Jason sends Tim a green signal between classes.

Dick picks them up from school in the afternoon and asks them about every detail of their day.

“I think I’m gonna try out for soccer,” Tim says. “Is that okay?” he asks hesitantly when Dick glances at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s fine, that’s great! Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Bruce didn’t let me,” Tim answers. “Before. When I was Robin. I guess it would have taken up too much time after school, and people would see if I’d gotten hurt. But. It’s different now, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dick says. “It’s different now.”

Tim smiles.

Jason reaches over and takes his hand.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dick pulls the cowl down to hang from the back of his neck; takes off the gloves and rubs at his sweaty skin; looks up at the computer screen with tired eyes. He just has to file this report, and then he can go to bed.

“Ten nights in a row,” Bruce says, coming up next to the high-backed chair. It’s only been one year, almost to the day, since he was snapped like a twig over Bane’s knee, but he’s walking strong, as if he was never hurt at all. “We missed you at dinner.”

“Yeah,” Dick sighs. “Sorry about that. I just– the power is shifting within the Marcone family, and the fallout has been hell.”

“You can take one night off. The boys– they need you, son.”

Resting his head against the back of the chair, Dick closes his eyes. He wants to yell, but doesn’t have the energy.

A large hand lands on his shoulder. “You need a break too.”

Dick snorts. “That’s good, coming from you.”

There’s a long moment of quiet, just the bats flapping overhead, and then, “I haven’t always been the best dad, but I do try. None of us is perfect. We make mistakes, but we try to get up and do better the next day. So… please forgive me when I’ve failed, and just know that I am trying. And I want to try to pass on good advice to you.”

“Are you feeling particularly like a failure today? Did something happen?” Dick swallows hard. He’s been trying to get along better with Bruce. He’s been trying to give the man a chance. He’s been trying to allow himself to open back up to him. So he says, feeling vulnerable and raw, “I have days I feel like that– a failure as a father, as a big brother. Usually something happened in order for me to feel that way. Not always, but usually.”

“No,” Bruce replies, “I’m not feeling particularly failed in this moment.”

Part of Dick wants to shout that he should always feel failed.

He continues, “I’ve made some mistakes as a father, and, you know… I guess there’s two sides to the coin. There’s the side where there’s that, and there’s the other side where I’ve learned a few things and have some experience, years of life, and I’d like to be able to pass that on.”

Dick looks up at him.

Bruce keeps his eyes straight ahead, but squeezes his shoulder. “It’s… compartmentalisation. Some people are good at some things, not so good at others, and you learn how to compartmentalise. So I would say, try to take the good things that I can offer, take advantage of that, and don’t discount me for the mistakes I’ve made. We all do it. If you’re a father or a brother or a son… we all blow it at some point, and dealing with the regret of it can be tough. I’ll try not to make a big deal out of that, but… I hope what I’ve said is usable to you.”

There’s a war inside Dick’s chest, different responses vying to be voiced:

Fuck off, I’m fine, I don’t need you

Yes, yes, thank you, please help me

In the end he stays silent. But he doesn’t move away from Bruce’s hand.

“There’s nothing that hurts more than that,” Bruce says. “Nothing that cuts deeper, than to be at odds with one’s children. Don’t let it happen to you.”

He faces Dick then. “Eat dinner with us tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Dick says after a moment, softly. He realises this is the most apology Bruce will ever give him. What he wants to hear is a direct

I’m sorry

and

I was wrong

but he’s not ever going to, because he isn't speaking to a normal person, but rather to Bruce, and one of the biggest issues he’s had with Bruce is that he does not think or express himself like a normal person. Dick will have to accept this for what it’s intended to be. He’s going to have to meet Bruce in the middle. “All right.”

Bruce nods, and then he turns and leaves.

~

When Dick sits down at the dinner table the next night, Bruce gives him a small, proud smile.

Tim excitedly tells him about soccer practice that day, and after they’ve finished eating they go outside and kick the ball around so Tim can show him all the cool stuff he’s learned. They play a two-on-two game, Tim and Bruce against Dick and Jason. Alfred suggests not keeping score, but none of them like that idea.

Tim and Bruce win.

After that, they all listen to Jason play his cello. He’s only been playing for two months, but he’s really good. Bruce ruffles his hair, calling out the different points of his technical skill, while Dick just whoops and cheers and Tim gives him the most adoring look Dick has ever seen. Jason basks in their praise.

It’s a great night. It’s a night that could happen–

should

happen a lot more often. Dick’s going to make sure that it does.

He looks at Bruce.

Please forgive me when I’ve failed, and just know that I am trying.

Could it really be that easy?

Not easy, no… But simple?

Bruce

is

trying.

Can Dick forgive him?

~

Jason is helping Dick do maintenance on the Batmobile when Bruce approaches, inspecting their work carefully. “Has anything changed in her?”

“I made some modifications,” Jason tells him. “To help it be less loud.”

“Show me,” Bruce says, and listens intently to everything Jason says, nodding in approval. “Good work. I’m looking forward to testing her out.”

“You mean…” Glancing between Dick and Bruce, he asks, “As Batman?”

“It might cause a stir if Bruce Wayne drove around Gotham in this, wouldn’t it?”

Dick steps forward. “Is this your way of telling me you want the suit back?”

“You have your own responsibilities. I’m relieving you of the burden.”

“And you couldn’t just say,

hey, Dick, I’m ready to be Batman again

?”

Bruce blinks at him. “I thought I just did.”

“Okay. Fine. Welcome back.” Throwing down a greasy wrench, Dick starts to stomp away.

“What did I do this time?” Bruce demands angrily at his back, and Dick whirls around.

“I dropped everything to come here and be Batman for you, and now you just expect me to drop everything again to give it back? This has been my life for over a year! And you waltz in here like it’s

nothing

.”

Frowning, Bruce asks, “You

want

to be Batman? I know you were reluctant to take up the mantle.”

“You don’t know anything!” Dick shouts. He pauses. “Jason, go upstairs.”

Jason does, quickly and silently. When he’s gone, Dick says, “I

don’t

want to be Batman. I haven’t wanted to be Batman all year, but I needed to be, so I did it. It was a huge deal, Bruce, but you wouldn’t know anything about it because you weren’t there when it happened and you never asked me about it.”

“I assumed if you needed help you would come talk to me.”

“It’s not about needing

help

, it’s. I just wanted you to

ask

. To show that you give a crap about me and my life and what I’m going through.”

“I thought you might misinterpret my checking on you as not believing you could do the job. By staying silent, I was showing that I trusted you.”

Closing his eyes against his hurt and rage, Dick thinks,

meet him in the middle

.

“In that case, I appreciate your trust. But I need you to know that I can’t read you mind. I never know why you’re doing the things you’re doing, Bruce. I know you better than anyone, and even to me, you’re still a mystery.”

Bruce expression cracks for a quick moment, showing something heartbroken… something betrayed. But then he covers it up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you would just

talk to me

–”

“I think I’m done talking for now.”

He leaves, and Dick is left standing there feeling both wronged and like the world’s biggest asshole.

~

The first night Bruce goes out as Batman, Tim stays up until he gets home, which means Jason stays up too, and Dick as well. It’s a Wednesday, but the boys are off school for Thanksgiving break, so it’s fine.

The Batmobile comes rolling to a stop in the cave, rumbling low, and then the engine shuts off and he climbs out of the car. Tim is there, asking how it went, if he’s okay, how he feels. Pulling off the cowl, Bruce smiles and says it went fine, and he’s okay, and he feels good. He says the boys need to get to bed. He says there’s nothing for them to be worried about.

It takes some coaxing, but Jason and Tim head up to their rooms.

Dick stays, arms crossed.

“Are you really okay?” he asks.

Bruce doesn’t answer for a minute, and then, “I will be.”

“If you’re not ready, I can–”

“I’m ready,” he says. He looks at Dick for the first time. “Thank you, son. I’m fine.”

~

Dick takes a deep breath, January cold filling his lungs. The wind tugs at him, luring him off the edge of the skyscraper, and he lets it. Arms spread behind him, Dick soars down like the bird he’s named after; black and blue and dangerous.

He’s home, up here in the sky. He’s home, in this suit. He’s home, in this city.

Pulling out his grapple, he fires off a line and swings past Wayne Tower, and then Clock Tower. He lets out a whooping call.

Nightwing is back.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Tim, stop pouting.”

“I’m

not

pouting,” Tim mumbles petulantly, crossing his arms and sinking further into the couch cushions. “I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason says, “He’s allowed to have other friends. It’s

good

for him to go out with his friends.”

“But did it have to be

tonight

?” It’s Dick’s twenty-sixth birthday and he’s spending it with Wally, Koriand'r, Victor, Roy, and Barbara, and

not Tim and Jason

.

“He spent all day with us!”

“Whatever,” Tim retorts brilliantly. Jason is right, he knows Jason is right. It’s really good that Dick went out to celebrate with people his own age and, like, do things twenty-six-year-olds do. Drink, and dance, or something. But Tim’s still left feeling… left behind.

Jason sighs. “Look, you can keep being dramatic and fatalistic, or you can come swimming with me.”

“Swimming?” Tim perks up. His eyes run up and down Jason’s body. “Fatalism? Never heard of it. Let’s go.”

And with that, he’s off the couch and running to his room to change into his swim trunks. Jason runs after him, and it feels like he’s being chased, being

hunted

, and it makes a nervous, excited bubble of laughter come out, which makes Jason work harder to catch up. Tim crashes into the safety of his bedroom and locks the door, panting and grinning wildly. He doesn’t really know the game they’re playing, but it’s fun and it’s– it feels… It feels intimate, and dangerous because it’s Jason, but safe because it’s

Jason

.

Changing quickly, Tim peeks his head out into the hall. All clear. He sneaks out silently and prowls through the house to the indoor pool room, which appears to be empty. He stands at the edge of the pool and bites his lip, trying to decide what to do. He doesn’t know if they’re still playing, or even what his role is if they are, but he doesn’t want to just… be found.

Suddenly, he feels heat at his bare back. He doesn’t hear a thing, but he knows Jason is directly behind him, only inches away. His heart leaps into his throat.

Jason’s breath grazes Tim’s neck. “Caught you,” he whispers.

Tim freezes for one long breathless moment, wanting to stay right here, right like this, forever.

And then he flings himself forward into the water.

He swims hard, and feels a disturbance in the water behind him as Jason follows. He swims until he can’t anymore, until he reaches the far wall of the pool. Breaking to the surface, he turns around and sees Jason is on his way. The only place Tim can go is to the side so he goes, along the wall, and he gets the impression he’s being corralled; this is confirmed by the grin on Jason’s face when Tim finds himself backed into a corner. They’re at the shallow end of the pool now, so Jason doesn’t need to swim. He just stalks forward through the chlorine-scented water, slowly and powerfully and determinedly. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, but it’s soaking wet now, see-through and clinging to every line and curve of his front, showing off his muscles. He’s so tall and big now.

Tim’s heart pounds rapidly. He can hear his own ragged breathing echoing through the room, bouncing off the water and tile and giving him away.

When Jason gets close enough, he braces his hands on the pool lip on either side of Tim, caging him in, and smiles down triumphantly at him, looking so satisfied, like he’s just caught his favorite meal, and Tim– god, Tim wants to be eaten. He wants to be devoured, and it looks like Jason wants that too, and he even moves closer like he’s actually going to do it, like he’s going to get a taste. His knees bump into Tim’s legs, and the water splashes in the small gap between their chests. Jason hovers over him, and Tim stares up, wanting–

wanting

, so

bad

. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Jason,” he says desperately.

Jason hums in response, moving even closer, body bumping fully into Tim’s

And just a fraction of a second too late, Tim realises he should have stopped this before now. He shouldn’t have let Jason get so close.

Because he sees the moment Jason feels it. He sees the confusion on his face, the way he glances down into the water at the raised point in Tim’s shorts.

“

Jason

,” he gasps, desperately again, but this time it’s desperate for something else– for the last five seconds to not have happened, for Jason to back away, for his body to calm down, for Jason to not freak out…

“...You’re hard,” Jason says blankly, like he can’t comprehend what he’s just felt against his thigh. He looks back up at Tim’s face like he’s waiting for Tim to say no, no it’s not true.

Tim swallows roughly. “P-please back off.”

Jason puts space between them immediately, frowning. “What’s happening? Why are you– Why?”

“Jason, I.” His mouth is so dry. He moves his hands to cover himself.

“Tim,” Jason says,

demands

, eyes wide, “Tim, why are you hard?”

Quietly, he admits, “Because of you.”

Jason moves away even further, expression flickering from confusion to disbelief, to fear, to anger, to… sadness. “I– I need to go,” he says, wading to the side and hauling himself from the water. His wet feet slap against the floor as he runs out.

Closing his eyes, Tim lets himself sink below the surface. He stays there until his lungs burn, feeling like his entire world has just shattered to pieces.

~

“We’re gonna talk about this,” Jason says firmly the next morning, surprising Tim so badly he chokes on his Eggo waffle.

“Holy shit!” he gasps after a painful swallow. “Since when are you so sneaky?”

“I was pretty stealthy last night.”

The waffle slips from Tim’s numb fingers, plopping back onto his plate. “We don’t have to–”

“Yes we do,” says Jason. “I’m not gonna let this become… a thing. An ugly thing between us. And I

need to know

, okay?”

He looks harried and exhausted like he didn’t sleep at all. Tim probably looks the same way. Sighing, Tim glances around. “Here? In the kitchen?”

“No one will hear us.”

He’s right. Dick is sleeping in late from partying the night before, Bruce is at Wayne Enterprises, and Alfred went out to run errands, saying he would be gone for a few hours.

“Okay,” Tim says begrudgingly. He steels himself. “What do you want to know?”

“Just… why?” he asks, sounding lost. He stays standing, not sitting down next to Tim. “I mean, is it… I know you like boys, so was it–”

“It’s you,” Tim interrupts. “It’s not all boys, it’s just you.”

“So you really… like me. Like that.”

Tim wants to run away and hide, but he forces himself to meet Jason’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Now it’s Tim’s turn to be confused. “Why what?”

“Why do you like me?”

“I– Jason, that is such a stupid question. You fucking idiot.”

“Hey!” he cries, affronted.

“I’ve known you for over two years now,” Tim tells him. “Of

course

I like you. I know everything about you. I know how awesome you are. You’re my favorite person in the whole world. You’re the first person I want to tell all my thoughts to. You’re who I want to spend all of my time with. When I’m sad you make me happy, or stay with me through it. When I see you, I feel like I’m home.”

“That’s– that doesn’t have to mean… That’s how I feel about you, too,” Jason says. “We’re best friends.”

“Yeah, we are. But I’m close with Dick and Kon and Bart and Ives, too, and I don’t feel the same things for them that I do for you.”

“I don’t either,” Jason argues.

Tim’s heart is racing. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you can feel that way about someone and not have it mean you want to be with them. Like that.”

“Okay,” Tim says. “Maybe so. But I

do

want to be with you like that. And you don’t get to tell me I don’t. Or… is it yourself you’re trying to convince?”

Shifting back slightly, Jason asks, “Convince myself of what?”

“That

you

don’t like

me

like that.”

“I don’t!” he snaps. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I want– those things!”

“Well then why did you do that?” Tim demands, standing up. “Last night, in the pool. You looked like you were gonna kiss me. Why would you do that?”

Jason looks scared. “I– I don’t know! I just wanted… to get closer. I like being close to you.”

“Why?” Tim presses, moving forward. “What do you want to do when you get close to me?

Do

you want to kiss me?”

In a reverse of last night, Tim backs Jason up against the counter. Jason is breathing hard, his eyes are wild.

“Tim,” he whispers. And then his voice gets hard. “Tim, get away from me.

Right now

.”

Something in the back of Tim’s brain tells him not to listen, to push more, to touch, to show Jason how good it could be if he would just let it happen–

Horrified, Tim springs back. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Shrugging stiffly, Jason says, “I did the same thing to you.”

Tim shakes his head. “Don’t do that, don’t make excuses for me. That was really shitty. I
know how you feel about this stuff, and I almost…”

Jason rubs his left arm with his right hand, thumbing the red button on his watch. “Look, I– I don’t know what to do. With all of this. With us. It’s not something I’m ready to think about. I don’t want anything to change. I just want… to be your friend.”

Shoving down his disappointment, Tim nods. “That’s fine, Jason. Anything you want– or don’t want– that’s what we’ll do. I swear, I’ll keep this away from you. I’ve been doing that for a long time.” Jason looks at him sharply, but Tim doesn’t want to explain how long it’s been. “I slipped up, but I can keep it away from you.”

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Jason asks softly.

Tim takes a deep breath. “Yeah, it does. But don’t feel bad about that, okay? It’s not your problem. It’s not something you need to be responsible for. I’m dealing with it. And just being your friend, or whatever it is we are, whatever you want to call it… what we have right now is enough for me. It’s perfect.”

“How can it be perfect if it’s not everything you want?”

“It’s like…” He shrugs a little. “I don’t know, it’s like you have a chocolate cake, and what you really wanted was red velvet, but it’s cool because the chocolate cake is the best chocolate cake in the whole world and you love it.”

Jason gives a small huff of a laugh, and Tim smiles hesitantly. Then he sobers. “Jason, if I ever do something you don’t like, if I get too close, if I make you uncomfortable– I need you to tell me, okay? That’s the last thing I want, ever. I need to know you still feel safe around me.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, giving Tim a long, considering look. Finally he decides, “I feel safe.”

“Good,” Tim replies, relieved. “Tell me if that changes.”

“I will.”

They stand in awkward silence, Tim waiting to see if this really will change things or not. Waiting to see how Jason will act around him now.

Finally, Jason says, “I’m gonna go… read. Or think. About stuff. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” says Tim.

“But. Later.” Jason asks, “You wanna play

Super Mario Bros.

with me?”

“Yeah,” he answers, smiling. “I’d love that.”

~

It’s… weird between them now. Not obviously, not a whole lot, but…

They hang out. They spend just as much time together as they used to.

It’s just that now, Tim feels like he needs to be careful about everything. He never touches Jason first, waits for Jason to initiate contact. Then he’s constantly worrying over how he’s coming off– if he’s acting like he wants certain things, if he’s looking at Jason in a way he shouldn't. And he’s been worrying about this stuff for a long time, but now that Jason is aware of it hiding under the surface, he might be able to see the longing in Tim’s expression. He might notice the way Tim’s fingers twitch, wanting to reach out for him.

Jason is acting careful, too; careful with his touches, careful of Tim’s feelings.

One time he lies on top of Tim, something he’s done many times before, and then seems to realise what he’s done and that things are different now, and rolls off, apologising. It makes Tim feel cold.

One time he goes to take Tim’s hand, but then retracts it like he’s been stung. It makes Tim feel diseased.

One time he’s laughing at some stupid thing Tim’s done, and he says, “I love you,” and then he stops laughing and says, “I mean, not– you know…” It makes Tim feel so alone.

~

“I just need time,” Jason tells him.

Time for what? Tim wonders. What will happen when that time is up?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Wheel of Fortune time with Dick in the evenings is one of Jason’s favorite things, so when Jason turns off the TV in the middle of the episode, Dick knows there must be something serious about to happen.
Jason hesitates though, so Dick gets the ball rolling by asking, “Is this about Tim?”His head snapping up is all the confirmation Dick needs.“You guys have been acting really weird around each other for a few weeks now. Want to tell me what it’s about?”
“I… can’t, really,” Jason says slowly. “I need to talk to you about it, but some of it… It’s not my place to tell you. I don’t know what to do.”
Dick’s pretty sure he can put two and two together now. “Does this have something to do with Tim liking boys?”Jason nods. That part isn’t secret, not in their house.
“Okay, does this have something to do with…” he says carefully, “ which boy he likes?”Eyes wide, Jason nods again. “Do you already know?”
“Yeah,” Dick says. “I do. It’s okay, you can talk to me about it.”
Jason seems to digest that for a minute, and then he scoots an inch closer on the couch. His voice is quiet. “He– we were in the pool, and Tim…” He looks away uncomfortably. “Well, I found out how he feels. About me. And we talked, and he said he would keep it away from me and I didn’t have to worry or feel bad, but I do . I worry that I’m making him sad. I feel bad that I don’t– that I can’t give him what he wants. He said it’s fine, but I just…“I’ve had a lot of time to think about sex, and relationships, and how people are with each other, and I’m okay with it– for other people . If other people want to date and do those things, it’s fine, but. It’s still hard to think that it’s something that could… have anything to do with me. I can’t think of it and think I could be a part of it. Or, I can , sometimes, it’s just– it makes me feel weird. Imagining someone thinking about me like that, or the two of us… doing things… I.” Jason licks his lips. “It’s scary. But it won’t get out of my head ,” he says in a rush. “What does that mean? What am I supposed to do with that?” Oh boy , Dick thinks, stomach twisting. He was not prepared to have this conversation tonight. But it’s happening. His kid needs him. So he swallows down his own discomfort and shifts so that he’s facing Jason more directly. “I think you need to try to work out why exactly it’s scary to you, and why it makes you feel weird. Is it because of your past trauma with this sort of thing? Or is it because you genuinely aren’t attracted to them and have no interest in them that way?”Jason frowns. “What is attraction? Like, how am I supposed to know if I am or am not attracted to someone?”Dick lets out a small laugh at the enormity, the complexity, of that question. To him it’s so simple, but to someone like Jason… It’s like Dick has to try and explain what a green apple tastes like to a person who has only ever eaten red. But there are many different kinds of apples, he remembers, so he starts with, “Well, first you need to understand that there’s more than one type of attraction. You can be romantically attracted to a person, or sexually attracted, and those don’t always go together. Sorting out which one you’re feeling, if either at all, can be tricky.”
“Okay… so what’s the difference?” Jason asks.
“Romantic attraction is like… you want to date that person, you want to be in a relationship, you’re in love with them. Sexual is, well, having to do with sex. It means you look at a person, or think about them, and that makes you want to have sex with them. You want to touch or be touched in certain ways. You… get aroused,” he says delicately. Then, just to make sure Jason gets it, he adds, “You get hard for them.”Face bright red, Jason says, “But how do you know when it’s romantic, or friendship? And what if– what if you feel really bad about getting hard over someone?”

God, Dick needs a beer. Or a line of shots. But Jason is being so brave right now, so Dick can be too. “Well… Hm. Okay, this person you might be romantically attracted to–” Dick doesn’t think Jason is ready to put it into real terms yet and actually use Tim’s name, “imagine them being in a relationship with someone else. How would that make you feel?”
Expression darkening, Jason says, “I wouldn’t like it.”
“Because you want them to be with you instead?”“I– I don’t know.”“Okay. Then that’s something for you to think about.”Jason nods stiffly.
“As for the other thing,” Dick continues, “feeling bad about getting hard over them… What kind of bad do you mean? Is it guilt? Is it disgust?”“It feels like,” he replies stiltedly, “I shouldn’t be doing it. Like it’s okay for other people, but not for me. It’s just not who I am.”“Maybe it’s not who you used to be,” Dick ventures carefully, “but people change. You’ve changed and grown so much since we met, Jason. I think you should reevaluate ‘who you are’, and what that means to you. The way you view things now is not how you viewed them then, and that’s okay. It’s okay to change your outlook, and adjust your attitude accordingly. Just because you didn’t like something for a long time, doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to like it now. But,” he adds, “if you consider it, and it still makes you uncomfortable, then that’s fine too. Don’t feel like you need to change. Just allow it.“Do you want to kiss him?” Dick asks, pushing the boundaries of the hypothetical, and Jason doesn’t mention or correct his use of “him” rather than “them”.
Jason rolls his response around in his mouth for a while before saying, “I don’t want to want to.”“But if you were someone who was allowed to want that, would you?” Jason doesn’t answer, so Dick assures him, “You are allowed to want that.”“You said… You said that they don’t always go together. So you could be romantically into someone, but not sexually?”“Yes, that’s right. And vice versa.”“But how does that work?” Jason asks. “How can you be in a relationship but not have the other stuff?”“It’s possible. If you’re with someone that understands and loves you right, you can have a relationship without the demands of sex. Sex doesn’t have to be a part of it, or can be a part of it a little, or a lot. It just depends on what you and your partner are comfortable with. Not having it doesn’t make the rest any less real or important.”
Jason looks like he’s thinking about that really hard for a few minutes, and then he sighs and turns the TV back on. They’ve missed the rest of Wheel , but they find something else.
~“How’re you holding up?” Dick asks Tim on the drive home from soccer practice.
“Not great!” Tim says instantly, like he’s just been waiting for someone to ask. He kicks the heels of his cleats on the floor, but Dick doesn’t scold him for knocking bits of grass everywhere. “Not great. No.”“I heard something went down with Jason.” Tim looks over sharply, panicked, so Dick hastily adds, “No details, just… something.”Slumping against the window, Tim sighs, “It’s what didn’t go down , actually. It went very, very up .”Dick winces. He really doesn’t need to hear about his little brother’s boners. “I really don’t need to hear about your boners.”
“You asked!”“Not about that !”“Whatever,” Tim mumbles, rolling his eyes. Then he perks up. “Wait, he talked about it with you? What did he say?”
“I’m not telling you,” Dick admonishes. “It was a private conversation, and he trusted me to keep it private.”“But if I knew how he felt about it, I could–”“Nothing, Tim,” he says firmly. “You do nothing. You’re going to let him work it out on his own time, got that?”
“But I could help–”“No,” Dick barks.It’s quiet in the car for several miles.
Dick says, “You know better than that.”
“Yeah,” Tim agrees softly. “I do.”
“Are you okay?”“It’s hard, man. It’s hard.”And Dick just can not resist the joke. “In more ways than one, apparently.”Tim retaliates by leaning over and shoving his sweaty armpit right in Dick’s face.
“Hey! You’ll kill us all!” he gasps, gagging for fresh air.
~Dick is on his way to the records room when he passes by the window of an interrogation room, and out of the corner of his eye he sees the man sitting there, handcuffed to the table, and he freezes.
It’s Willis Todd.
All the sound from the precinct falls away. He barely registers his body moving, his feet walking, his hand turning the handle on the door. But then he’s there in the room, a few feet away from the monster that abused and abandoned Jason, and he sees red.
“Grayson?” Lin asks. “What are you doing here? Did the cap send you in here?” She huffs. “I can interrogate a perp on my own, you know.”“Willis Todd,” he growls. “You bastard .”The man looks up at him passively. “Who are you , copper? Never seen you before.”“I’m the person who’s been raising Jason for the past two years,” Dick answers, voice low and hard as flint.
An eyebrow raises in feigned interest. “Oh yeah? What happened to Catherine?”
Dick’s hands curls into tight fists. “She died, a long time ago. He was living on the streets alone until I found him.”
“That’s a shame,” Willis muses. “Catherine was a fine woman. Took care of that boy even though– well.”“Even though what?”“Oh, you don’t know?” Willis asks. He hums disinterestedly. “Guess that means the boy don’t know either.”“Doesn’t know what ?” Dick snaps.
“That Catherine wasn’t his real mama.”
“What?” Dick asks after a long, breathless moment.
Shaking his head, Willis says, “His real mother’s name is Sheila Haywood. Woman dropped off a baby on my doorstep the second he was out of her. I was already with Catherine by then, and she decided to keep him as her own. Fat lot of good it did her. Little punk wasn’t no good to anyone.”And that’s when Dick finally loses his temper.
Lunging across the table, he grabs Willis Todd by his dirty shirt front and punches him in the nose. Blood splatters all over both of them, and Officer Lin jumps up in shock.
“What are you doing?” she shrieks. “Grayson, get off him!”But Dick doesn’t listen. He keeps hitting and hitting.
“Jason is a better man than you will ever be!” he roars in Willis’ bruised and broken face. “ You son of a bitch! ” I could kill this man , he thinks wildly. I want to kill this man. His arm freezes in the air.
Blue eyes gaze up at him, and they’re so like Jason’s that Dick feels like he’ll be sick.
Slowly, his fingers loosen their hold on Willis’ shirt, letting him drop down into his chair with a groan.
The door slams open, and Jim Gordon charges inside. “What the hell is going on here?”“Captain!” Lin starts, glancing nervously between him and Dick. “It’s nothing, sir–”
“No,” Dick interrupts. “Thanks, Lin, but don’t.” He turns around and faces his CO. “I attacked him, sir.”
“Why?” Gordon asks, eyes dangerous behind their thick frames.
“This is Jason’s biological father,” he answers.
Shaking his head, the captain lets out a disappointed sigh. “I’m going to have to suspend you, Grayson.”“I know, sir.” He flexes his hand. “I won’t fight it.”
“Get out of here,” Gorgon tells him. On his way past, he grabs Dick’s shoulder and says lowly, “I understand, son. I’m sorry.”“I’m not.”Dick leaves the precinct after turning in his weapon and badge.
The whole drive home, all he can think about is the feeling of that dirt-bag's face crunching under his fist.
That, and the pain of telling Jason about his mother.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You’re home early,” Jason notes when Dick comes into the cave, still in his uniform– his bloody uniform. Jason has seen blood on him before, but only in the Batman or Nightwing suit, never just… Dick. Leaning his cello against the workbench (the acoustics down here are otherworldly) he rushes over. “What the hell– are you okay?”

For a minute, Dick just stares at him, looking like he’s about to cry. Then he wraps Jason in a fierce hug, like there’s a bomb about to go off and he’s trying to shield him with his body. “No,” he says, “I’m not.”

He stays holding him like that for a long time. It makes Jason nervous, because something really,

really

bad must have happened. When he finally lets go, Dick says, “I need to do some digging around on the computer. Would you please go upstairs?”

“Sure,” Jason says weakly. He wants to asks what’s wrong, but if Dick were ready to explain he wouldn’t make Jason wait. Taking his cello and bow up to the main house, he goes to Tim’s room. Tim looks surprised to see him. Things are still strange between them. Ever since Jason had that talk with Dick, he’s been doing a lot of thinking, and that thinking is mostly about Tim, and he can’t think about Tim when he’s around Tim, so he hasn’t been around that much. “Dick had a bad day at work, or something. I don’t know what happened, but he’s here already and it looks like he got into a fight.”

Jumping up, Tim asks, “Where is he?”

“Downstairs. But he asked me to leave, so maybe let’s give him some time. He’ll come see us when he’s up for it.” Tim obviously hates that idea, but he sits back down at his desk. Stepping marginally closer, Jason asks, “Wait, you’re actually doing homework?”

Tim sighs disparagingly. “This report counts for, like, forty percent of my final grade. I slacked off all year because I figured if I get an A on this and the final exam in two weeks, I should pass the class.”

“Oh. Good luck with that. I’m gonna go practice,” he says, gesturing with his bow. “I just thought you should know about Dick.”

“Hold on! You can, um. You can practice in here. If you want.”

“That wouldn’t bother you?”

“No, I like it.” Tim turns his face down to his work. “I like hearing you play.”

How much do you like it?

he wants to ask. Tim never listens to classical music, so Jason wonders if he only likes it because he likes Jason, kind of how Jason only likes to watch soccer when it’s Tim that’s playing. If Tim doesn’t like that type of music, why does he enjoy listening to Jason play? If Jason doesn’t care about soccer, why does he love watching Tim on the field?

More things to think about. Later.

“Okay, sure,” he says. He perches on the edge of a high-backed chair that Tim would never have picked out for himself, and settles his instrument between his legs.

It’s nearly an hour later that Dick comes in. He’s showered and wearing a t-shirt and jeans. The little drops of blood on his face are gone, but Jason notices now that his knuckles are bruised. He’s holding a piece of paper.

“Jason I, I have something to tell you. It’s going to be hard to hear. Do you want to do it here, or in your room?” He’s asking whether or not Jason wants Tim to be here for this conversation.

Jason looks at Tim. Things are still weird between them… but he’s still his best friend, and it sounds like Jason will need him. “Here’s fine.”

“Okay.” Dick takes a breath. “Okay, first… I saw your dad today.”

In an instant, Jason’s heart is racing. Fear and rage tighten around his neck. He looks at Dick’s injured hand. Following his gaze, Dick nods.

“Yeah, I, uh. I hit him.”

“Good,” Tim says with heat. Jason glances over to find him clenching his own fists.

Tilting his head in concession, Dick says, “I won’t even argue with that.” He tells Jason, “He was in the precinct. I don’t know on what charge he’d been brought in, I didn’t take the time to find out. I just…” He shakes his head.

Jason will feel good about that later, he thinks. When he’s not so paralised by memories and emotions, he’ll imagine Dick beating the shit out of Willis, and he’ll smile. But right now he can’t even say anything through the burning in his chest.

“You said ‘first’,” Tim points out. “What else happened?”

Focusing on the paper in his hand, Dick says clears his throat. “Your d– Willis told me something. I checked the county records, pulled your birth certificate to confirm. I’m sorry, Jason, but Catherine Todd… Catherine wasn’t your birth mother.”

Numbly, Jason takes the paper from Dick. It’s a copy of his birth certificate and, sure enough, it’s not his mom’s name next to Willis’. “Sheila Haywood,” he whispers.

“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now,” Dick says, “but I think– I think you need to hear that your mom… she was still your mom, you know? Catherine didn’t give birth to you, but she raised you and loved you, and I don’t want you to feel like that means nothing now.”

Jason stares at that name. Sheila Haywood.

Catherine Todd isn’t his real mother. His real mother is someone he’s never met… Someone who may still be alive. The paper is wrinkling in his sweaty hands. His heart is racing again, out of excitement this time.

“I need to find her.”

Dick says, “I looked her up. She’s a doctor, currently working on famine relief efforts in Ethiopia.”

“I need to go meet her!”

“Are you sure?”

Jason jumps up, as if he’s going to go out right this second and get on a plane to Africa.

“Jason,

please

,” Dick begs, placing a hand on his chest. “Take a second to calm down and think about this.”

“I don’t have a choice,” he tells him. “I mean… she’s my mom.”

Dick swallows hard. “Okay, let’s consider our options here. You could try writing to her first. I could– if you want, I could go meet with her.”

Shaking his head, Jason answers, “No, no!

I

need to do this. This woman, she could be my chance at family. A real family!”

Dick blinks, looking stunned. His hand slips from Jason’s chest. “Oh,” he says softly.

“What do you mean,

real family

?” Tim asks, frowning. He comes to stand next to Dick. “We’re your family.”

“You know what I mean. Bruce adopted you, but if you could have your real dad back, wouldn’t you want that?” He looks between the two of them. “Both of you. Wouldn’t you want your birth parents back?”

Tim opens his mouth, but Dick speaks first. “It’s okay. I understand,” he says, face blank. “If this is what you really want, we can go. I’ll take you. We’ll go meet her together.”

“I’m going too,” Tim says in a way that leaves no room for argument.

For a split-second, Jason wants to protest that this is something he should do on his own. But he has people to depend on now. He doesn’t have to be alone in this.

“Okay. When can we go?”

“This weekend,” Dick answers. Friday after school, we’ll head out. I’m sure Bruce will let us borrow his plane.”

Two days. In two days, Jason will meet his mother.

He wonders if he looks like her.

~

They’re on their way out the door, bags in hand, when Bruce stops them.

“I’ve uncovered what the Joker is up to. He’s selling nuclear weapons.”

“Sounds like you have a fun few days ahead of you,” Dick says lightly.

“I know you have plans,” Bruce says, glancing at Jason, “but I need Nightwing. This is important, son.”

“

This

is important.” Dick’s tone isn’t light anymore. “There are other people that can help you. My job right now is to be there for my kid.”

With that, he turns and ushers the boys out of the house.

They pile into the car and Alfred drives them to the small, private airport where the W.E. private jet awaits them.

Jason’s never been on a plane before. He grips the armrest nervously.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” a stewardess asks.

“How about a rum and coke?” Jason suggests, only half joking.

She levels him with an unimpressed glance. “You don’t look ripe enough for rum. How about a straight coke instead?”

“Okay,” he says, embarrassed, and then slaps at Tim laughing next to him.

He sighs, gazing out the window. The sky is so open and… empty.

I’m on my way, Mom

, he thinks.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“

This

is important,” Dick says, voice and eyes hard. “There are other people that can help you. My job right now is to be there for my kid.”

The boys leave, and Bruce is left standing in the foyer alone. He wants to run outside and… do what? Drag them back? Surely he doesn’t need Nightwing

that

much. He’s handled the Joker solo before. It just would have been easier, with a partner along. Would have been nice.

He pictures the three of them in the car, on the plane, traveling through a different country. For Jason, it will be an entirely new experience. Briefly, he imagines himself with them, helping navigate the area because he speaks the language. Being there when Jason meets his mother. Offering advice if it doesn’t go well.

Dick had asked if Bruce would join them on their trip, but Batman’s hot on the Joker’s trail and it’s heading for something big.

Choices.

Does he go with the boys and fulfill his responsibilities as a guardian?

Or does he go after that madman and his nuclear weapon?

It’s painfully obvious which path he must choose. The question is: How will he be able to live with the decision?

~

He’s on the Northwestern Meditteraniean coast of Lebanon, inspecting a hijacked C-130 transport plane left in the desert with a dead crew. Left by the Joker.

His mini-Geiger counter shows high background radiation in the loading bay. Whatever nuclear device his old enemy has acquired, its warhead is leaking slightly.

It’s hard to concentrate. He keeps wondering how the boys are doing. How Jason is doing.

He’s not Jason’s father. He doesn’t quite know what he is to Jason. But they’re family, now, in some way. He wants him to be okay. He wants him to be better off than Bruce is. He wants him to be happy. Tim and Dick, too.

Do you really?

a voice in the back of his mind asks. If he truly wanted them to be happy, he shouldn’t have tried to bring them down into his world with him. He would have fought to give them normal lives, like Dick has done for Tim and Jason. Bruce is a very lonely person. He knows this. If Dick hadn’t intervened, Tim would have shared that loneliness. Perhaps that’s why Bruce loses track of his sons’ emotional health– that subconscious drive to not be alone in his pain warring with his desire for their happiness. He thought he was doing the right thing with Robin, but he can’t refute the evidence of Dick’s parenting. Those two boys are happy and healthy in a way Bruce hasn’t been since before the night his parents were shot. Tim and Jason seem so young and free, and that's because Dick's been shielding them from the dangers he himself has shouldered since he was young. That Dick could take two boys that had suffered such trauma, and help them to heal and grow…

He really is an amazing man. Bruce is so proud of him, despite knowing he himself probably had very little to do with the sort of person Dick has grown up to be. Is

still growing

to be. He is still so young.

But he’s a parent now, and was Batman for over a year. He took down Bane. When he awoke from his coma, Bruce felt as though years had passed instead of a couple of months. He had looked at his son and seen a responsible, capable man– one who makes the choice to love and support his family even when it’s difficult.

A better man than Bruce.

~

He almost has the Joker at the Israeli border, but he escapes.

The hunt continues.

~

A refugee camp just outside Magdalia, Ethiopia.

Bruce looks around, heartbroken, at the thousands of people that flocked here for help. When he returns to Gotham, he’ll send another check to help the effort.

And then try to forget what he’s seen here.

In the end, he’s no different than anyone else.

There’s only so much even Bruce Wayne– and Batman– can do.

But somewhere here, is the Joker. That’s something he can do.

“Bruce?”

He turns around to find Dick and Tim walking toward him.

“What are you doing here?” Dick asks. “Did… did you come for us?”

“No,” Bruce answers, tasting regret on his tongue as Dick’s hopeful expression falls. “I’ve tracked the Joker to this camp.”

“

Here

?” Tim gasps, looking around. “We have to go get Jason.”

“Where is he?”

“In the brown tent over there,” Dick says, pointing. “He’s meeting Sheila. We left so they could have some privacy.”

Tim tugs on Dick’s arm. “We have to go get him!”

They hurry over to the tent, and just as they’re arriving Jason comes out through the opening flaps; next to him is a blonde woman.

“It’s camp business I can’t get out of,” she’s saying, and Jason nods in understanding. “Wait outside. Maybe you can help with the food dispersal. I’ll be done in an hour or so.”

“Okay,” he says, and the woman goes back inside.

“Jason!” Tim grabs him, drags him a ways away to where there’s less people. He speaks low. “The Joker is here!”

“Where?” he asks, alarmed.

“There,” Bruce says grimly. He’s without the makeup, dressed normally, but Batman would know that man’s face anywhere. The Joker, and two hired muscle. “Going into your mother’s tent.”

Immediately, Jason starts to head back over, but Bruce stops him with a strong hand on his shoulder. “No, let me. You boys get somewhere safe. Take no action until I get back. I repeat:

no action

.”

“I’m not leaving my mother with that monster!”

“Jason,” Dick says, putting his hands on either side of his son’s face. “Bruce will take care of this. Please trust him to do that, and let

me

take care of

you

. This isn’t something you can fix. You’re going to have to let him handle it.”

Bruce wants to stay and reassure the boy, but he doesn’t have time. While Dick is keeping Jason at bay, Bruce slips away and sneaks up behind Sheila Haywood’s tent. The material is thin enough that he can overhear most of the conversation inside.

The Joker is blackmailing her into helping him.

He stays very still and quiet as the group leaves the tent. He follows the Joker, who leads a convoy of trucks to a nearby warehouse. Sheila unlocks the door, letting them into the building.

Bruce watches through an open window, staying low.

“No one knows where you are… right, my lovely?” the Joker asks. Sheila shakes her head. “But who was that lad I saw leaving your tent just moments before I arrived? Hm? Someone you could have let the plans slip to?”

“He’s– he’s just some kid,” she answers. “I only met him today. He doesn’t know anything.”

“You’re certain?” the Joker presses.

“If he knew anything… I’d bring him to you. I couldn’t afford to have him stirring up trouble. I’ve been dipping into the medical relief funds,” she admits, lighting a cigarette. “If he blew the whistle on you, the ensuing investigation would certainly uncover my embezzling.”

The Joker cackles. “Then it’s a good thing for both of us the boy isn’t here, or I would have to show him what it’s like to party with the Joker!”

Sheila shudders and looks away.

Meanwhile, The Joker’s henchmen replace boxes of medical supplies with crates containing a mixture of lethal laughing gas, and then the trucks head back out.

Bruce considers the situation:

Soon, those crates will be delivered and distributed all over the camp.

Dick, Tim, and Jason are there and in danger, along with thousands of people.

The Joker is still in the warehouse, and Batman can

not

lose him again.

He is one man.

Choices.

~

Dick was a good Batman. He kept control over Gotham. He caught Bane. He raised the boys. He did it all.

With help.

“Clark, Barry,” Bruce says into his Justice League comm. device. “Let’s settle once and for all who is the fastest man on the planet, shall we? First one to my coordinates gets an ice cream.”

~

“Flash, you run and warn everyone about that cargo. Do not let them touch it. Superman, you and I are going into that warehouse. We’re going to catch that madman. Be aware, there is a civilian. We need to get her out safely.”

“When do I get my ice cream?” the Flash asks.

“When the job is done, I’ll buy you a whole store.”

That gets him a wide smile and a thumbs-up, and then Barry is off in an instant.

“My starting point was further away, you know,” Clark says.

Bruce smirks. “I’m sure it was. Let’s go.”

~

The Joker sets a bomb and tries to escape. Batman intercepts him, and takes a blow to the side with a crowbar before knocking him out with a fist to the temple. Superman crushes the bomb in his hands.

“The cargo– you have to stop the trucks!” Sheila tells them. “He’s a monster!”

“We know,” he tells her. “We’ve got it covered.”

He’s not the only monster here

, he thinks.

~

He meets Dick and the boys back at the camp. They find a private tent, away from the main group. With a heavy heart, he tells Jason about his mother. She’s alive, but has been turned in to the authorities.

He expects Jason to shut down, to shove everything he’s feeling away deep inside.

Instead, Jason yells and he cries and he lets Dick and Tim hold him. He tells them how much it hurts. He tells them he’s angry and sad and disappointed. He tells them. And they listen.

Bruce watches this tragic, beautiful thing. He watches this boy open himself up and show others all of his pain because he trusts them. He watches him share, and these people he trusts take it and help him carry that burden.

The three of them sit on the floor, holding onto each other desperately, and Bruce watches.

Dick looks up at him. Offers out a hand.

Bruce stares at it, and then takes hold, and Dick pulls him down to join them.

Bruce wraps his arm around the boys.

~

“Thank you,” Dick says on the flight home, speaking to Bruce but eyes on Tim and Jason, who have raised the armrest between their seats so that they can curl around each other. “You did the right thing this time.”

“I…” Bruce trails off, wanting to say so many things but unable to. The words fly from his head as if he never learned how to speak at all.

Glancing over, Dick gives a small smile. “You don’t–

we

don’t communicate that well. I rarely know what you’re thinking. But I know you love us. You love me.”

Bruce clears his throat. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jason doesn’t go to school on Monday.

Neither does Tim. Dick and Bruce take off work. They all stay home. For him.

Because he met his mother. He hugged her. He called her “Mother”. He talked with her, and listened to her story, and sympathised.

Her career in the United States had been ended, she’d said. An operation she’d been assisting on as a med student got botched, and she got blamed. She left for England, and Willis said he’d follow, but then he married Catherine. Sheila thought it would be best for Jason to let them raise him. She didn’t want to put him through a custody battle, so she accepted that she would never see him again.

“God, it must have been so hard for you,” Jason had said, arms wrapped around her.

And then the Joker showed up and ruined everything.

Bruce told them what she said, in the warehouse. That if Jason had known about the Joker, she would have turned against him.

Jason met his mother. He was so excited.

And she turned out to be a terrible person.

Thinking about it now, he sees that it wasn’t for his benefit that she gave him up. It was her own. She didn’t want him.

He shouldn’t be surprised, though. No one seems to want him.

Except…

There is someone who wants him. Someone who

wants

him.

Jason goes to Tim’s room.

His heart is pounding and his gut is telling him this is wrong, but all of that is smothered by a layer of numbness and a driving force that tells him this is how to feel wanted, to feel loved, to feel better. It’s like he’s watching himself from outside his body, disconnected, unable to stop it from climbing onto Tim’s bed and pushing aside his homework. He can’t stop himself from looming over Tim, who looks up at him in confusion. He can’t stop himself from leaning down and pressing a kiss against Tim’s slack mouth.

Tim is quiet and un-moving for a long moment, but then he makes a muffled noise and squirms. Jason presses harder, grabbing the back of his neck to keep him still.

Tim shoves him off, hard. “What the

hell

is

wrong

with you?” he gasps.

“This is what people do, right?” Jason asks. “Everyone says it’s okay. They keep saying this stuff is okay.”

Tim looks back at him like he’s never seen him before. “Not like this, not when you’re upset.”

“Why not? This stuff is supposed to make you feel good, right? That’s what I need right now! To feel good! And I know you want it, so what’s the problem?”

Tim jumps up from the bed. “You’re using this– using

me

to feel better. I’m not a thing, Jason! I’m a person! I’m your friend! I have feelings, and you’re not even considering them.”

“I thought you wanted this,” he says, feeling very small.

“I want you to want me, just because you like me and not because you think this will make you feel less sad and alone.”

“I

am

alone,” Jason rasps. “My dad wasn’t around. My mom died. This woman, Sheila, she abandoned me. They all left me. None of them loved me enough to stay. They all left. And maybe Catherine didn't want to leave, but she didn't try hard enough to stay. None of them wanted me, and now you don’t either. I thought you wanted me! Why doesn’t anyone want me?”

“I want you!” Tim shouts. “Didn’t I just say that? Haven’t I shown you that for over two years now? I want you, I’m right here, I’m not leaving you. I just can’t do

this

right

now

.”

“Fine!” Jason shouts back. “Fucking… fine.”

He leaves the room, feeling off in every way.

He knows he was wrong. He shouldn’t have done that. Not to Tim. Not at all.

But that doesn’t keep him from feeling rejected and lonely and furious– with himself and everyone.

He storms down to the cave, looking for something to destroy. Dick is there.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, abandoning his work at the computer. He stands in front of Jason, full of concern.

Jason breaks.

“Why doesn’t anybody want me?” he yells, throwing himself into Dick and spilling tears against his neck.

“Oh, Jason,” Dick says, low and warm and broken, as if he’s feeling all of Jason’s pain too. He rubs his back. Holds him so tight. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason cries, and cries.

“I’m sorry your parents weren’t good,” Dick says. “No one should have to feel the way you’re feeling. No one should have to feel unwanted and abandoned by their mother and father.”

“Sheila wasn’t my mom, not really,” Jason mumbles. He smells Dick’s skin and it registers as

Dad

in his brain– not because it reminds him of Willis, but because it smells like Dick; Dick has taken that role in Jason’s mind on an instinctual level. “And my– Willis isn’t my dad.” Pulling back, Jason wipes his face. “Willis Todd isn’t my dad,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “Those people aren’t my family. You are.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, nodding. “You’re my son. You’re right here.” He pats his chest, over his heart. “Always.”

~

Jason and Tim graduate ninth grade.

Tim wins his soccer tournament. Jason plays his cello in a recital.

Sheila Haywood is in prison, as is Willis Todd. Jason asks Dick to never update him about them again. “From now on,” he says, “they don’t exist. They don’t matter.”

~

In June, Dick asks him a question.

“Do you want me to adopt you?”

Jason stares.

Dick says, “Until now, I’ve been your legal guardian, but that’s not the same thing. I want you to know you have family– permanent family. I don’t want you to ever doubt what you are to me.”

“Yeah,” Jason whispers. Then, louder, “Yes. I want that.”

~

On July fourth, the whole family is in the backyard, sitting on a massive blanket and eating barbecue ribs and hot-dogs and potato salad and apple pie. Above them, fireworks fill the night sky.

Jason looks around at Alfred and Bruce and Dick and Tim, and he feels safe and happy and home and love.

He looks at the changing light playing on Tim’s upturned face.

He feels love.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tim thought being fifteen would be totally different than being fourteen. He thinks that about every birthday. But he’s been fifteen for a whole week now, and it’s pretty much the same as the week before his birthday. Maybe it’s not the day itself that makes you grow up. Maybe it’s all the days in-between July nineteenth of one year and July nineteenth of the next, and what happened to you during. Maybe it’s not about a day on the calendar, but the experiences, the battles you fight on every other day.
That being said, he does love this brief time of year when he and Jason are technically the same age. Jason will turn sixteen in August, and Tim will feel a little left behind, as he does every year, but for these few weeks, they’re equals. Not that Jason has ever lorded the one-year age gap over him, but Tim has always felt it. Like one day Jason will think, Why is my best friend a little kid?
Best friend. He supposes that’s what they still are. Tim has struggled to find a word for their relationship ever since they met, and it’s only gotten harder in the past couple months. Jason found out how Tim feels, and it opened a divide between them, a ragged split in the ground between their feet that seems to grow every day. Jason got weird, Tim got weird, they both had no idea what to do with each other anymore. And then Jason…Jason kissed him.
Jason was hurting and sad, and made what should have been something awesome into something really crappy.
Tim has imagined kissing Jason a lot. He’s pictured every way it could go, down to every detail. He’s thought about what it would feel like to have another person’s lips on his. To have their tongue in his mouth. To feel their breathing warm and close on his face. He’s thought about Jason’s lips and Jason’s tongue and Jason’s breath. Jason’s little happy sounds. Jason’s skin under Tim’s fingertips, his hair. In his mind, it would be the most amazing thing ever.
It wasn’t. It wasn’t amazing at all, and Tim’s been trying not to be too mad about it because he knows Jason was struggling through something awful. But he also can’t forgive it that easily. Jason took Tim’s first kiss– he took it. He didn’t ask for it, and he didn’t make it nice, and he tried to use Tim to make himself feel better, and that’s something he’s done before. What had he called it last year? A tool to put away and pick up when I need.
So Tim is angry, and disappointed. They’ve been weirder than ever around each other, and Tim just misses his friend.
~Four sets of sneakers squeak on the polished maple floor of the mansion’s indoor court.“I’m open!” Tim calls, and Dick passes the ball, dodging nimbly around Bruce. Tim dribbles his way closer to the net, but then Jason is there, arms out in a wide block. Turning around to protect the ball, Tim tries to go left, then right, but Jason is close behind him, following every moment. He crowds up against Tim’s back, bumping into him. Tim can feel his panting breaths, and it reminds him of every day-dream he’s had about Jason’s breath on the back of his neck. It reminds him of that moment by the pool. Caught you. He falters, and Jason snatches the ball away. He takes a shot, the net swooshes. He grins smugly at Tim.And Tim– Tim is suddenly filled with rage. He stalks forward and shoves Jason, making him stubble back and blink at him in surprise. “Was that on purpose?” Tim demands.
“What, the shot?” he asks, bewildered. “Yeah, I mean, that’s kind of the point of the game.”“No, the way you got the ball away from me. You were practically on top of me, like you knew it would mess me up.” He can feel Dick and Bruce watching, but he doesn’t care. He’s too pissed off to be embarrassed. Anyway, it’s not like they don’t know how he feels.“I– I’m just playing basketball.”
“With someone you know likes you, so why not use that against him, right?” He shoves him again.“What the hell– stop that!” Jason says, slapping Tim’s hands away when they come toward his chest again. “It wasn’t like that. I wouldn’t do that!”“How do I know? It’s not like you have a great track record of taking my feelings into account. You just do whatever you want!”Bruce whispers to Dick, “Should we intervene, or…?”
“Let’s give it a minute, maybe they’ll finally talk it out.”
“We can hear you!” Tim shouts, his voice reverberating off the high ceilings.
Jason says, “You’re the one that started this in front of them.”
“ You’re the one that started this,” Tim counters, pointing at him. “It’s always about you, what you want, what you need. Everything is on your timetable. I’m sick of it. It hurts to be stuck in this– this place where I don’t know what’s happening and you just come in and out whenever you want. I’m always waiting on you, but I don’t even know what I’m waiting for !”“Then stop waiting for me!” Jason replies. “Stop living for me! When is the last time you made a decision? Huh? When is the last time you did anything for yourself? You became Robin to help Bruce, you moved in with Dick when he told you to. You put your whole life on hold to help me and everyone else around you– and that’s amazing, okay, you’re an incredible, selfless person. But what you want matters too. You’re not on this planet to help Bruce, or Dick, or even me. That’s not your role in life. You’re important.”“How are you actually putting the blame on me right now?” Tim asks, incredulous.
“I’m not trying to blame you, I’m trying– I want you to see that you put yourself in this place where it makes it easy for everyone to take advantage of you.”“You’re saying it’s all my fault for being too nice ? Maybe it’s your fault for taking advantage of me !”“It is, it is, I’m not saying it’s not, but. I just want you to stand up for yourself. I want you to see that you’re important enough to fight for.”“What is it you think I’m doing right now?” Tim shouts.
Slowly, Jason smiles. “Standing up for yourself. It’s really cool, by the way.”And just like that, the wind falls from his sails. The anger dissipates. “Cool? R-really?”
“Yeah,” Jason says, nodding. “I like it.”“You like me yelling at you?”“No, not the yelling. But you… saying you want to be treated better. And telling me what you do and don’t want. You don’t do that a lot. I really like it.”“Oh.”
Carefully, Jason takes a step closer. “I’m sorry, Tim. You’re right. I shouldn’t have made it seem like you had to wait for me.”“Well I– of course I’m going to wait for you, I love you. You jackass.”
Jason grins. “I love you too.”“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Bruce whispers.
“I’d say so,” Dick agrees.A few seconds later the door shuts and Tim and Jason are alone, staring at each other.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Jason says.
“Okay.”“I’m sorry I kissed you that day.”“Okay.”“I’m sorry I wasn’t ready before.”“That’s not something you need to apologise for,” Tim says firmly. And then, “Wait, before? Does that mean…”
“Tim,” he says, moving closer and closer. “What do you want?”Tim makes a questioning noise, watching the space between them diminish inch by inch, heartbeat ticking up and up.“What do you want with me,” Jason clarifies. “What do you want to do to me– with me. What do you want from me.”“I– you already know.”
“You still want those things?”“Yeah,” Tim sighs, mouth dry. Jason is standing so close now, but not looming over him; massive, but not imposing. Tim’s insides turn to mush– in the best way.
“Can I show you what I want?”
He nods shakily. Gently, Jason takes his hand. “I want this,” he says.
He leans down and touches his forehead to Tim’s. “And this.”Their noses brush, and his warmth exhale tickles Tim’s cheek. His other hand cups the back of Tim’s neck, thumb brushing his hair, and it’s not at all like that time he did this when he kissed him; it’s tender, and it’s not keeping Tim in place– just holding him sweetly. “And this.”Tim sucks in a sharp breath. “We’re all sweaty and gross–”“Do you want to wait and do this later?”“No,” he answers, swallowing hard. “What– what else do you want?”
“I want to kiss you,” Jason says softly, and Tim makes a small, whimpering sound in response because he’s been waiting almost three years to hear that. “Can I, Tim? Can I kiss you?”
“Are you– do you really want to? You have a problem with this stuff…”“I want to with you . With anyone else, I’d have a problem, but. You make it feel okay.” Jason squeezes his hand, his neck. “You make it feel good.”
Tim’s whole body is quivering. He closes his eyes.
“So,” Jason asks, “can I?”“ Yes .”
Jason breathes in and out, unsteady.
Tim grabs his shirt with fumbling, trembling fingers. He can feel a pounding heart under his hands. “Jason, please .”
Slowly, he touches his lips to Tim’s. They both still, the moment frozen and careful and expectant.
And then Tim tilts his chin up, pressing closer, and it’s like a signal for Jason to move too.
He’s imagined this hundreds of times, and he always imagined that he would just know what to do, and Jason would know what to do, and they would move against each other fluidly. In reality, neither of them have a clue. Their lips slide together awkwardly. Jason’s mouth falls open slightly, and Tim feels wetness, and it startles him, making him flinch back for a moment. Then he dives forward, chasing that wetness, because it’s weird and a tiny bit gross, but wonderful . His teeth hit Jason’s painfully, but he ignores it. He knows it’s probably terrible when he shoves his tongue inside Jason’s mouth, but Jason doesn’t act like it’s terrible. Instead he lets out a strangled noise and rubs his tongue on Tim’s, and Tim feels like he’s going to explode.
Gasping, he pulls back and stares up at Jason, who stares back at him with wild eyes.
Tim asks, “This okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ,” Jason mumbles against his mouth, coming down for another messy kiss. It surprises Tim, because any time he thought about how Jason would kiss, how he would be with all of this stuff, he always imagined him being tentative, or even reluctant. But he isn’t. Jason is… enthusiastic .
This time it’s Jason’s tongue in Tim’s mouth, and Tim can’t help but groan. That seems to fire Jason up even more, and soon there’s spit all over and they sound ridiculous, probably, but it’s just fucking awesome .
He slides his hands around to Jason’s back and pulls him closer. Their bodies press together, and Jason–
Tim freezes.
“Fuck,” Jason gasps, pulling his hips away. “Um.”“You.. you really like me,” Tim says dumbly. And then he laughs, years of stress pouring out of him in a wave of crazy relief. He strains upward, planting sloppy kisses over Jason’s mouth and chin and jaw, smiling through them.
“I’m not ready for– for that,” Jason says. “Sorry.”
Tim shakes his head. “It’s fine, I don’t think I am either.”“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you wait again–”“You don’t ever have to be ready for that,” Tim says. “If you don’t want it, I don’t want it.”
“But… if I do want it, someday–”“I’ll want it.” Tim loses himself in touching Jason’s broad back. “I’ll totally want it.”“Okay.” Jason nods. “Okay. For now, can we keep kissing?”“ Please ,” Tim says, reeling him in.
They kiss for forever, it feels like. Their lips end up chapped and red and sore, and when they show up at dinner Dick crows and cheers, making them both blush fiercely. But they hold hands under the table as they eat, and Jason hooks his ankle around Tim’s.
They kiss more after dinner.
They kiss goodnight.
They kiss good morning.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jason’s first thought when he wakes up is of Tim’s lips, Tim’s tongue, Tim’s whimpers and panted breath when Jason licks his neck. They’re both still pretty terrible at making out, but it doesn’t even matter. Every clumsy touch and kiss is perfect. Every one of them sends Jason into a near-frenzy.
It was unexpected, the way he reacts to kissing Tim. He thought he would be controlled, gentle, respectful . But it’s as if a damn has been broken, years of ignored desire rushing out. Not just desire for Tim, but in general. He was eleven years old the first time his dick showed life, reacting to a woman in a magazine, and that was the first time he slammed that part of himself away behind a steel wall in his brain. For his entire adolescence, for the past five years, he’s been shutting out every sexual thought he’s had about people. He’s touched himself, but not often because it’s hard to not let his mind wander to things that made him feel guilty and terrible. It’s only been recently, a couple of months, that he’s started to allow himself to explore those kinds of thoughts– that he’s accepted that it’s okay to do that.
It’s mostly thoughts of Tim, but sometimes it’s of other people. No one he knows, just someone he sees in a movie or something. Fictional people, in fictional scenarios. He needs that distance, mentally. He needs to separate those fantasies, keep them firmly in a box labelled, Never Gonna Happen . What he said to Tim the first time they kissed, that he’s the only one Jason would feel comfortable doing those things with, is true. He can think about hooking up with a character from a book because it’s beyond the realm of reality. If he ever tried to get with someone real, he wouldn’t like it. He would be uncomfortable. The only thing real he thinks about is Tim.
And Tim is so, so real. Tim was on this very bed last night, arching under Jason’s touch. They always keep their clothes on, and they never touch their dicks, but they’re learning there’s a lot to be done with just hands and lips. And tongues.
Jason groans, turning over and rubbing himself against the mattress through his boxers. He lets his thoughts get away from him, lets them go to places where they do take off their clothes and they do touch their dicks, and it isn’t long at all before he’s coming, Tim’s name stuttering out of his mouth.
Those places, where they take off their clothes, aren’t labelled Never Gonna Happen . They’re labelled Someday .
Not Ready Yet, But Someday .Because kissing and touching Tim isn’t scary or gross or awful like he always thought it would be. It doesn’t make him feel ashamed. It makes him feel good .
~Jason’s second thought, after all of the thoughts of Tim and after he’s cleaned up in the shower, is, I’m sixteen today. ~There’s a donut, of course, waiting for him in the kitchen. Also waiting for him are Dick and Bruce, who greet him with an excitable and polite “Happy Birthday!”, respectively. Tim must still be sleeping.“Come on,” Dick says tugging Jason out of the room. “You can take that with you, eat it on the way.”“On the way to what?” he asks, quickly grabbing his breakfast treat and a paper towel for a napkin.
“You’re sixteen! We’re going to get your driver’s license!”“Oh, right,” Jason says, not sure why he’s surprised. It’s not like he didn’t know this would happen– Dick has been teaching him how to drive, and he’s had his driving permit all year– it’s just… For most of his life, it never seemed feasible. It was another one of those things that happened to other people, not someone like him. “We have to go right now? It’s not like I can even use it anyway. What would I drive?”“That,” Bruce says as they enter the garage. He pulls a key-ring from his pocket and hands it over, gently ushering Jason toward a beautiful green Jeep.“This?” Jason asks, squeezing the shiny key in his palm.
“It’s yours.”His mouth drops open. “Mine?” he says weakly.
“If you want something else,” Bruce offers, “I can get it for y–”“No! No, this. This is perfect. Thank you.”
After a second of hesitation, Bruce hugs him. Jason is a little taken aback, but he returns it.
Dick says, “Aww!”
When they pull apart, Dick takes the keys and climbs into the driver’s seat. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll drive on the way there, and you can bring her home with your brand new license!”
Grinning, Jason hops into the passenger seat. He waves at Bruce as they pull out of the garage.
At the end of the lane, before they pull off of the Wayne property, Dick pauses, looking over at him. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”Jason gives a small laugh. “I am, too.”~Tim is completely jealous of the Jeep.
“Can I drive it?” he asks desperately. “I have my permit!”
“Maybe,” Jason says casually, knowing full-well he’s going to let him. “Maybe I’ll just drive you around.”He pouts until Jason leans down and says in his ear, “We can park, too. The back seat folds down.”Tim turns bright red and nods jerkily. “Fine,” he says, trying too hard to not sound excited.
~There aren’t that many people, Jason thinks, whose sixteenth birthday party would be filled with superheroes as guests.
A large number of the Justice League are here, along with all of the Titans. They’re all people he’s met before when they came by to visit Dick or help Batman with a villain, but that’s usually one or two at a time. Right now, there’s dozens.
But Jason’s fine. He feels safe. He feels good.He feels happy.
Happier still when Tim hands him a piece of cake, one bite already taken and there’s icing on the corner of his mouth. Jason grins, and kisses it away.
Kon whistles suggestively, coming up and clapping him hard on the back. “Get a room, love birds!”
“We will after you people leave,” Tim says.“Well then I’ll just have to make sure to stay late.” Kon winks.Jason asks, “To ruin our fun, or to join it?”Over by the buffet table, Superman chokes on a shrimp. Hawkwoman bangs on his back.
“You’re hot, big guy,” Kon says, “but. That’d be gross.”Jason laughs.
“No, but really, congrats. And happy birthday.”
“Thanks. Paintball next weekend?”“I’m gonna wipe the floor with you punk-ass bitches,” he promises, sending a double finger-gun and walking away to get some cake for himself.
Jason gets back-pats and head-ruffles and handshakes from everyone. He almost shits himself when Wonder Woman approaches, tall and gorgeous and powerful.
“Your dad told me you like to read,” she says, handing him an old, fragile book. “Here’s one you won’t find even in Bruce’s library. Themysciran poetry, sixth century.”“ Woah . T-thank you!”“Close your mouth,” Tim mutters. “You’re drooling.”Next is Barbara. “I got you socks again. And lube.”While Jason stands stock-still and un-breathing, Tim asks, “Lube? Like for an engine?”“Oh, sweet baby boy, let me tell you about it,” she says, grinning and throwing an arm around his shoulders to drag him into a corner.
Later, after all of the guests have left, Jason, Tim, Dick, Bruce, and Alfred sit amongst the detritus of the party, picking at leftover food and unwrapping gifts.
Jason looks at his family, these people who take care of him, who he loves and trusts and who love him right back.“I… I want to say something.” They all give him their attention. “Willis Todd is an abusive piece of shit who works for Two-face. My mom was a junkie who got sick off a dirty needle and died. Sheila Haywood stole and worked with the Joker. They all left me. And that was a choice they made, every single day, to not be with me. But you, all of you… You choose me, every day.
“And I choose you.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Knuckles rap on Dick’s desk, and he looks up from his case file. “Afternoon, Commissioner. What are you doing here?”

Jim Gordon adjusts his glasses. “Just wanted to check and see how the new detective was doing.”

Dropping the file, Dick leans back. “I’m doing fine, sir.”

“Good. I hear you and Babs have plans tonight.” He checks his watch. “Feel free to head out a little early today. Don’t want you to keep her waiting, do we?”

“Never,” he replies, grinning. “I might just take you up on that.”

“Say hello to the boys for me,” Gordon says. “They choose a college yet?”

He shakes his head. “Jason’s filled out an application to pretty much every university in the country, and with his grades he’ll have his pick, but Tim hasn’t decided yet. I think he’s planning to push it until it’s too late and then just… not go.”

“Not going is an option.”

“Yeah,” Dick concedes. “I guess I should tell him that.”

“Well, good luck to them both,” Gordon says, and moves on.

“Thanks, sir.” Dick stands, throwing on his leather jacket and slipping his files into a desk drawer before locking it.

The sun has dropped behind the skyline when he gets outside, and early spring air frosts his breath. He had to park a few blocks from the station today, so he has a bit of a walk to his car. It’s as he’s passing an alley off Cameron Street that he sees it: the batmobile. It’s inconspicuous in the shadows, and anyone else probably would never have noticed it there.

Dick smiles to himself. From his coat pocket, he pulls out a pad and pen.

He may not be a beat cop any more, but he can still write parking tickets.

~

After he gets home, Dick scarfs down a quick dinner and showers. He heads down to the cave to get ready for the night, taking the stairs two at a time. He’s entering the change room when he hears a strange noise that makes him pause, head tilted. It comes again, and he tracks the sound to behind a row of lockers.

“Oh God

damn

it!” he yells, throwing a hand over his face to block out the sight of– “I sit on that bench!”

He hears the frantic rustling of clothes, Jason scrambling to his feet. “You’re not supposed to be home yet!”

“So it’s

my

fault you two are fucking in a public space? No! Not this time,” he says, wagging an angry finger at the pair, eyes still shut tight. “This is the third time this week!”

“Then wear a bell,” Tim suggests wryly.

“Don’t get smart with me,” he snaps. “Is everything put away now?”

“Hold on.” A zipper being drawn up. “Okay, yeah.”

Carefully opening his eyes, Dick glares at the disheveled teenagers in front of him. A tirade prepares itself on his tongue, but then he deflates. “Guys, I am

begging

you. You have to stop this shit. I can’t– I can’t handle it. You have bedrooms! This place is

filled

with empty rooms that no one ever goes into. You have

other options

than the cave, or the kitchen, or the pool!”

“We weren’t really doing anything in the kitchen,” Tim argues.

Cheeks bright pink, Jason says, “Bruce is out, and we didn’t think you’d be back from work.” He shrugs. “Didn’t wanna wait to go upstairs.”

“Waiting five minutes won’t kill you, whereas

not

waiting might actually kill me,” Dick says. “Just– get the hell out of here. I’ve gotta get ready.”

The boys run out. After a moment, he hears a giggle and Jason scold, “It’s not funny– Tim, stop laughing!”

“Make me,” comes Tim’s reply.

“In your rooms!” Dick bellows, and then there’s the slap of shoes running across the cave floor and up the stairs.

Dick sighs.

He’s going to have to sanitize the bench.

~

“You’re late, Boy Wonder,” Oracle says, green light playing across her face.

Nightwing perches on the edge of the Clock Tower’s open window. “Would you believe I have some very good excuses?”

“I saw the ticket thing,” she says, not turning away from her screens, headphone set covering one ear. “What else you got?”

“Permanent psychological trauma.”

“Where were they this time?”

“The locker room.”

Barbara laughs.

“You wouldn’t find it so amusing if it were happening to you,” he grumbles.

“You’ve got two teenaged boys that are madly in love with each other under the same roof– boys who might be separated in a few months when one of them goes off to school. You should know better by now, sweetheart. If you’re not announcing your entrance into every room, it’s your own fault.”

“Obviously Tim is going to move to wherever Jason goes, it’s no reason for them to be going at it like rabbits everywhere.”

She just shakes her head. “There’s something happening at Fifth and Barrow. Can you make it in time, or should I alert B?”

“I got it, I got it,” he says, and blows her a kiss before dropping into the air.

As he’s swinging across Second Street, the comm. in his ear comes to life.

“Yo, Dad, Gramps.”

“What,” Dick and Bruce respond simultaneously.

Jason asks, “We’re ordering pizza. What toppings do you want?”

“Oh, you’re finally taking a break?” he asks sarcastically.

“Need to re-fuel,” says Tim over the line.

“Pepperoni,” Bruce says. “Anchovies.”

Jason and Dick both gag.

Dick says, “I’ll take anything without fish on it.”

“Alright, see you later. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Dick says, smiling.

“Love you,” Bruce replies. “And Nightwing?”

“Yes?”

“We need to have a conversation about this ticket I found earlier tonight…”

Dick’s laughter is swept away by the frigid night air. Gotham City nightlife lights his way through the sky.