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Jason slid down the rope into his latest safehouse, a warehouse that was only accessible via skylight.
It was a strategic choice that he was quickly coming to regret because he was fucking exhausted and wanted to collapse into the futon he'd finagled into the building, not break his neck sliding down a rope.
Fuck Bruce.
The man had been riding his ass ever since the police station. Jason wasn't sure which the man was more pissed about, having to replace the presinct's windows, Jason beating the crap out of the little bird again, or calling CPS on him.
Though he was pretty proud of that last thing.
But whatever the cause, Batman had a bee in his cowl and was hunting Jason with an intensity he saved for the big players. Which was good. It was about time Bruce realized Jason meant business. But it was also bad because Bruce kept literally crashing into Jason's operations. He'd spent half the night supervising a shipment of guns and the other half dodging batarangs because Batman had invited himself to the party. The good news is they had at least been Black Mask’s guns that Jason had been...borrowing, so he wasn’t out too much. It had just been a lot of unexpected cardio.
"Fuck," Jason grumbled as his feet finally hit the concrete.
And it wasn't just Batman. Nightwing was bouncing around too. Probably looking for a hug or a bullet wound or some such bullshit. At least Replacement seemed to be out of the game. Jason hadn't seen him since the night at the police station.
Hopefully Bruce had pulled the kid for good.
Jason pulled his guns out of his holsters, setting them on a metal table that had come with the place. There was no kitchen or anything because it was a fucking warehouse. Jason swore the moment he was less tired he was going to get a safe house that was classy, with running water and a stove that had at least one working burner.
He slumped into a rotting office chair and kicked his feet up onto the table.
At least he was done for the night.
Thunder cut the air and Jason toppled over the arm of the chair as three bullets slammed into his side. Emerald flared in his vision.
Motherfucker.
He rolled for cover, finding it behind a rusty filing cabinet. One that was opposite the direction that his guns were.
“You fucker!” Jason yelled into the shadows even as his blood boiled and the room bled green. “You think you can take on the Red fucking Hood! I’m going to scatter your body parts across Gotham! Your brains are going to be smeared across my boots!”
“Shut the fuck up, you goddamn drama queen!”
The voice that echoed through the warehouse was not deep and dark, but high and familiar. Jason’s vision cut back to the darkness.
“ Replacement?”
“My name!” A bullet ricocheted off of the filing cabinet, “Is Tim!”
Jesus fucking christ, who had pissed in this kid’s cheerios? And more importantly, “Why do you have a gun?”
“To fucking shoot you, dumbass!” the kid snarled. The part of his brain that raged against Bruce, against the world, wanted to make the kid eat that gun. The rest found this cute. Adorable. Like a baby tiger.
Jason tapped the back of his helmet against the filing cabinet, the sound echoing in the empty warehouse. “Then you should have waited for me to take the body armor off, dumbass .” The kid would have had him dead to rights if he’d just waited. Jason hadn’t noticed him, probably wouldn’t have until the first bullet had torn through skin.
There was a scoff. “I’m not trying to kill you, I’m trying to shoot you. Now stand up. I owe you seven more.”
Jason’s eyebrows flew up. “You were keeping count?” That was actually kinda impressive.
“Some of us don’t have problems with basic math!”
Woah that kid was sassy. “Yeah, but some of us aren’t supposed to be wandering around with guns, Robin. ” There was acid on his tongue, rage welling up again. Look at Bruce and his precious rules. Jason got in shit, Jason died, because he’d been standing too close to one guy who’d taken a swan dive yet here the newest model was wandering around with a fucking gun. “Where did you even get that thing?”
“Dick’s a cop, you moron.”
Jason slapped a hand against his helmet, dragging it down while wishing he was actually touching his own face. “You stole Dick’s gun?”
“Borrowed.” That response was sulky. “He should have got a gun safe. Now are you going to let me shoot you or are you going to make me beat you first? Because I am fully prepared to smash in your stupid melodramatic helmet before I pop more slugs in your chest!”
God, this kid sounded like someone talking smack on Call of Duty or whatever game the kids were shooting each other with. “Robin isn’t supposed to shoot people,” Jason grumbled.
“ Robin,” and if Jason thought the kid was snarling before it had nothing on this, “isn’t here right now. Robin has been fired. Tim, on the other hand, is very good with a gun. Now quit stalling!”
A wave of emotions crashed over Jason, relief and rage swirling together. Finally, finally, Bruce understood that you didn’t send kids out to die on the street. And he’d figured it out without Jason having to beat the kid’s brains in. But on the other hand Bruce was still failing. Here the kid was, alone, and though he didn’t seem to understand, in over his head with a cold blooded killer and if Jason hadn’t appreciated the kid’s gumption he would have broken every bone in the boy’s body and left him here.
“I mean it!” The kid practically screamed. “You’re an asshole! A selfish prick!”
That caused the green to surge. “I’m the asshole?” Maybe a few broken bones. “You replaced me!”
“Yeah, because you were gone! ”
“I fucking died!”Jason roared.
“Boo fucking hoo,” came the entirely unsympathetic response. “Lots of people die. But you got to come back. A second goddamn chance and you use it to ruin my life!”
Oh god. “Are you crying?”
“I’m nothing without Robin!” came the kid’s watery reply, totally ignoring Jason’s question. “I’m not Bruce’s kid. I’m not Dick’s brother. I’m just the annoying wandering kid who was good with a camera and now I don’t even get to be that because Bruce won’t let me do anything! I’m in a fucking prison because you can’t accept that life continues after someone dies so you are going to stand up and let me shoot you!”
"It can’t be that bad."
"You don't know anything!" The kid sobbed.
"Why don’t we talk, okay?" And Jason couldn’t believe that he was trying to sooth the kid. "We’re gonna get through this but you need to take a deep breath. ‘Angry people are not always wise,’ right? So why don’t you put down the gun and we can bitch about Bruce together.”
“That sounded like a quote. Did you just quote at me? Dick told me you were a fucking nerd.”
Nerd, Jason mouthed under his helmet. Jesus. This kid. As far as Jason could remember, Camera Tim had been adorable. Annoying, with the constantly stumbling into danger, but wide-eyed and star struck every time they met. “Look kid, just put the gun down.”
“No. But I promise I won’t shoot you anymore, tonight, unless you say something really dumb.”
That was probably as good as Jason was going to get. He pushed himself up from behind the filing cabinet, slowly , just in case the kid was the least honorable of the Robins. When no bullet bounced off his helmet he raised himself all the way to his feet, looking into the shadows for a flash of red.
Instead, the movement came from his side and a scrawny kid wearing a green hoodie and dark jeans stepped out, a lowered gun clenched in his fist. No armor, no domino, and Jason was willing to bet no back up. Jesus, this kid made Jason’s survival instincts look good and he’d actually died.
“Wow,” Jason remarked. “You really are tiny.”
He staggered back as a bullet slammed into his chest. “Ow!” He rubbed the spot on his armor. “You said you weren’t going to shoot me!”
Tim crossed his arms. “Unless you said something dumb. I’m not tiny.”
Well, Replacement had a complex. Great. “Okay, look kid-”
“-Tim.”
Replacement wasn’t Robin anymore. Just another civilian like any other brat which means he fell under Jason’s don’t hurt kids umbrella, which was good for him because Jason wanted to throttle him. “Tim. Bruce is an asshole but he’s not that kind of asshole. He isn’t going to toss you out just because you’re not Robin anymore.”
And now the kid’s lip was quivering. Great. “He already has,” the boy whined. “He talked to Dad and they think I’m responsible enough to live on my own while Dad completes his rehabilitation, but it could be years before Dad comes home because the doctors think that being poisoned and in a coma for fucking years might have left him with brain damage. So now I’m back to living in a big empty house, knowing that my Dad still isn’t going to come home or remember my birthday, except this time Bruce has Oracle looking for my ass and he literally drags me home every time he catches me out after dark.”
“And your solution to this was… to come shoot me?”
“ If it made me feel infinitesimally better then yes!” The scream echoed in the warehouse.
Yes, the green hissed in his ear. Replacement was getting what he deserved. He was having to go through what Jason went through. Being cast aside by Bruce. Being pushed outside the family.
But Jason had wanted, right? For Replacement to suffer.
But it wasn’t Replacement looking at Jason with tears trickling out of ridiculously blue eyes. It was fucking Camera Tim. Jason took two steps forward before the kid even had a chance to raise the gun, and wrapped his arms around the kid. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t. Things with Bruce never were. “I’m tired. You’re tired. I have a futon that’s big enough for the two of us. Why don’t we lay down and then in the morning we can talk about this, okay? I promise not to try and beat the shit out of you, you promise to not shoot me in my sleep.”
The kid pressed himself further against Jason’s body armor, his breath hitching with small sobs. “Fine,” he grumbled, “but I’m not happy about it.”
God, this kid.
-
The first thing Tim noted as he came to was that he wasn't alone. A thick heavy arm was wrapped around his shoulders, pressing him in tight against a warm body. Breath tickled the side of his neck, causing the hairs to prickle as they swayed in time.
He should have panicked, should have thrown elbows and bolted until he was far enough to take better stock of the situation, but he was so tired of being alone and the touch felt so good. He wasn't even halfway through summer vacation and he felt like he was dying. He wasn't used to it anymore, being on his own, and he didn't have the coping mechanisms he used to.
Bruce was making sure of that.
There was a gust of air against his neck. "God, you think too loud."
Right. Jason. Tim had come here to put a dent in his stupid helmet and instead he'd cried all over his stupid chest plate. Well, that explained the headache, at least.
"And your breath stinks." Not Tim's best comeback but he wasn't anywhere near the top of his game.
For a moment Jason tensed, his arm squeezing Tim a little too hard, and Tim suddenly remembered he was dealing with a man who thought about putting heads in duffle bags, not the Robin who would smoke on a gargoyle as he lazily swung a leg.
The moment passed and Jay rolled away. It was stupid, beyond stupid, but Tim had to stop himself from reaching out to hold onto that warmth, to get that contact that soothed the buzzing under his skin. He morphed the aborted reach into a push, getting himself into a sitting position.
Jason heaved an aggravated sigh. “Christ, you really are fucked up.” Oh, like Jason had room to talk. “Get up, Replacement,” he continued, as though he wasn’t a giant asshole. “I’ll take you out to get the breakfast of champions.” A hairbrush was thrown at Tim’s head.
He caught it with ease, glowering as he tried to pull it through his hair. Stupid Jason. At least Tim could see his stupid face instead of his stupid helmet. The older boy, Tim refused to think of Jason as an adult, kept stealing glances at Tim, like he wouldn’t notice or something.
The brush kept snagging in tangles. Tim’s hair was longer than he’d usually let it get and he hadn’t been the most diligent about brushing it. Or washing it. Whatever. Hair was hair. But he could feel Jason’s eyes rake over him with every hitch of the brush.
Jason mumbled under his breath and stomped over to Tim, falling onto the futon beside him. He wrenched the brush out of Tim’s hands. “Turn!” Jason ordered in a tone he must have learned from Bruce because Tim was half spun before he realized what he was doing.
Tim tensed, waiting for the brush to tear through his hair. He could handle it. His mother had never been gentle grooming him, scouring his scalp with bristles so his hair would remain perfect for their next big event.
The short gentle strokes were a surprise.
“Spill,” Jason grunted, his harsh tone at odds with his soft touch.
Tim leaned into the touch, his body relaxing in inches. This was stupid. Coming here was stupid. Letting Jason brush his hair was stupid. Telling Jason everything was stupid.
“I figured out who Batman was when I was nine,” Tim said almost lazily as his head dipped further into Jason’s hands. “Never told anyone, didn’t do anything about it until after you died because Bruce went psycho and Dick wouldn’t do anything about it.” He winced as Jason gave a sharp tug at Bruce’s name, but continued when the gentle strokes resumed. “I’d come be Robin when my parents were out of town, which was always, and Bruce eventually started letting me stay in the Manor, probably because Alfred made him.
“My parents were kidnapped. Mom died, dad fell into a coma, and Bruce looked after me. Dad woke up but he’s all fucked up because you don’t suddenly wake up from a coma and are perfectly fine. So I was still good to do the cape thing until you ,” and Tim couldn’t help the derision in his voice, “ruined it. Bruce has sent me back home and he’s not letting me do anything. It’s not just Robin. Anytime I try and leave the house he’s there, ushering me back in. I’m pretty sure he stole my bicycle so I couldn’t get into the city by myself. I don’t have any friends outside of the Titans, who don’t know who I am, and my Dad is still living in the hospital. Not that we ever got along. I’ve probably spent more time in a room with you than I have with him,” Tim finished bitterly.
Jason’s hands had stilled. “Fuck,” he muttered. “This was not how this was supposed to work.” Jason’s fingers tapped gently across Tim’s skull. “Okay. You’re pissed with Bruce. I’m pissed with Bruce. I’m laying my cards on the table and if you tell him I will actually kill you this time.” Tim was pretty sure he actually didn’t care at this point. If Jason came at him hard, Tim wasn’t going to take the noble route. He already knew about the bomb in the helmet and was pretty sure he could remote trigger it with the right tools.
Jason took his apathy for agreement. “I’m gonna get Batman to kill the Joker.”
Tim scoffed and the hand in his hair pulled, twisting his head to the side as Jason leaned over, forcing Tim to stare up into his eyes. Eyes that were practically pulsing green. “You got something to share with the class?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Batman can’t kill.”
Jason pulled his head back further. “If he ever loved me he’s going to learn how!”
Tim grit his teeth. If he’d had an inch he would have been shaking his head. “He’s trapped himself. Batman. Can’t. Kill.” Tim felt a few of his hairs say goodbye to his scalp. “Gotham’s built itself up on the symbol that’s Batman and it’s too late for that symbol to change. He kills someone and the whole thing falls apart.” The grip loosened a little. “Bruce could kill,” Tim offered. “Bruce can do all sorts of things Batman can’t. Same with Nightwing. Hell, Dick has killed people.”
Tim fell to the side as the hand disappeared completely. “Dickwad has killed people?” Jason sounded more shocked by that than he had upon discovering Tim was in his hideout with a gun.
“Duh.” Tim snorted as he righted himself. “He’s a cop in the nastiest city in the US. Of course he’s killed someone. He and his partner got caught in a turf war and Dick shot their way out of there.”
“Does...Bruce know?” Jason asked hesitantly.
Tim shrugged. “They pretend he doesn’t.” Jason hummed and Tim sighed, exhausted despite waking up. He always felt exhausted. “If you want to go back to the Manor you could just go. You’re Bruce’s kid. He wants you back. Owe!” Tim covered his ear. It smarted from where Jason had flicked it.
“Duffle bag of heads, kid.” Dammit, Tim had a name. It wasn't Kid, or Replacement.
Tim rubbed his ear. “He’s stalking you to show his love. You can’t get your stupid ass shot while Batman is chasing it.” He let himself fall back, his spine hitting Jason’s leg. “It’s why I want to shoot,” Tim said conversationally. “I obviously piss you off so if I’m not at the Manor then you can move back in. Bruce can finally get his real son back instead of being stuck with a replacement. ” No matter how true the words were, they hurt.
Jason stood without warning and Tim fell back as his support shifted, his shoulders hitting the concrete. “You’re all stupid!” Jason declared, like he was one to talk. “Fucking dumbass.” Tim pushed himself off the floor, moving into a standing position so he could brush some of the dust off his jeans. “You,” he pointed at Tim, “are living alone?”
“As previously explained,” Tim responded dryly.
“Well now you have a new roommate.”
No. No way. “You are not serious.”
Jason grinned manically, the way people do when they think they are being smart but are instead about to do something incredibly idiotic. Dick wore that smile a lot. “You’re right. I need to think my Batman Kills the Joker plan and with Bruce humping my ass I have no room to breathe.”
Tim nearly gagged at that mental image.
“Living alone is making you all fucked up and I might, just maybe, possibly, feel a tad bad about that. Not about beating the shit out of you,” Jason added quickly. “Just having to move out.”
“Thank you,” and Tim layered his voice in sarcasm. There were easily ten different flavors of sarcasm because fuck Jason with a rusty whisk.
“So I live with you. It pisses off Bruce, which is something we both want. It keeps you from living alone, which is obviously something you need.” Jason motioned at his own hair and Tim scowled. He had been lazy about brushing it. It was no big deal. “And I want somewhere nicer to live than a warehouse. Your place has hot water, right?”
Jason stared at Tim expectantly, like Tim really needed to answer that question, and Tim wanted to poke him in his stupidly blue eyes. Instead he slumped. “Yes,” he growled out. “Hot water and electricity.”
Jason clapped his hands together. “Awesome.” He pulled Tim into a side hug that Tim never wanted to be released from. “Let me pack and then you can show me the way.”
-
“You live fucking next door? ”