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Dick rummaged through his room with increasing panic, checking and rechecking spots he'd already looked through a dozen times before as a single question burned through his mind.
Where was his gun?!
It was in his room. Somewhere. Unless Bruce had decided to up the ante and had banished it from the Manor. Dick frowned at the thought. Bruce wouldn't have.
He shouldn't have, at the very least, if he didn't want another one of his kids pissed at him. Dick was going back to work Monday and they had firmly established rules about how they discussed Dick's day job: that they did not. Dick was more than willing to escalate if Bruce had started interfering with his career because he was feeling all conflicted over the situation with Tim and Jason.
Dick collapsed onto his bed on the one spot that wasn't covered on clothes and knickknacks and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Now wasn't that a mess.
Dick got where Bruce was coming from. He did.
As violent as Jason had become he was still following the basic foundation of the morality he had developed as Robin. Protect the innocent and punish the guilty. Certainly, his definition of 'punish' had changed for the extreme, but Jason's understanding of innocents, his treatment of them, had not.
He’d always had a soft spot for kids that had carried over into his business with the Red Hood. Dick had heard of the scary Red Hood catching kids running drugs for rival gangs and the Red Hood letting them go not only with their lives but also with more money than most of them had ever seen in their life.
The issue of the opposing gang also always seemed to be resolved the next evening with some bullets and explosives.
So.
Jason was heavily invested in protecting kids.
Robin, Tim , seemed to be a notable exception.
It was obvious that Jason was being willfully ignorant to Tim’s real identity. Dick wasn’t sure if Jason was just being lazy in his research, didn’t care about the kid when he was out of costume, or if Bruce bringing another child into his life caused Jason such a snit that he couldn’t bear to look up any information on the kid.
Maybe Jason just didn’t want to put a name to the boy he’d tried to kill so many times.
Whatever it was, Dick got Bruce's solution of banishing Tim from their lives until the situation was under control. He didn't like it, but he also didn't like Jason exterminating Gotham's criminal element with extreme prejudice. He just hoped everything was resolved quickly.
Man, Tim must have been so freaked by this.
Tim.
Freaked out.
No way.
But maybe?
Bruce had taken all of Tim's gear. It had been the only way to keep the kid off the streets. They'd had to place an alarm on Tim's door and his every window to keep the kid from wandering the city, even without his stuff.
Had Tim taken the gun?
And if so, why?
To feel safe or…?
Suddenly Dick was acutely aware that Tim was living alone. Without supervision and without backup, either physical or emotional. How he must be feeling, without weapons, knowing that Jason was out there hunting him? Tim had always been prone to dropping into gloomy moods when stressed, foregoing eating and sleeping to lay in bed.
How was he coping in that empty house?
Was he scared of Jason finding him?
Was he just plain depressed ?
Did he have Dick's gun?
Dick was flying down the hall, the question haunting him. Tim could have. He was still poking the odd hole in Bruce's security measures and it wasn't like they were trying to lock him out of the Manor.
Dick could feel the certainty growing. It was a gun. He never took it outside of his room, never took it out of the steel box he brought to the Manor. He and Bruce had disagreements but Dick wasn't cruel. The entire Eastern Seaboard knew Bruce's history with guns. Tim must have taken it.
Why?
Why had Tim taken it?
Dick burst out the side door, grabbing a random set of keys. Tapping the panic button set off the Astin Martin and Dick wasted no time getting in. He was flying down the driveway before the garage door had finished opening, not even bothering to put on his seatbelt.
By car it took no time to make it Tim but it still felt like it had been forever.
Dick skidded to a stop and ran to the front step. He paused, took a breath in an attempt to make it look like he hadn’t raced here in a panic, and gave a single tap to the doorbell while he prayed that a cheerful Tim would answer it. Or even an annoyed Tim. That was far more realistic.
A Tim. A Tim needed to answer it.
There was the sound of locks moving and Dick thanked the heavens. The door pushed out and behind it stood
Jason.
Dick barely had any time to process Jason’s shocked expression before a fist was connecting with his face. A hand wrapped itself in his shirt collar and Dick was dragged across the threshold and tossed across the room. The door slammed ominously.
Dick rolled to his feet and used the wall to rapidly change direction, charging at Jason with his fists ready.
He didn't know what he had been expecting. Old habits, maybe. Jason trying to use sheer power to make up for a lack of skill and experience. Bruce had warned him that Jason was dangerous but Dick had assumed he was referring to the guns and erratic behavior.
Not Jason's new proficiency in hand to hand.
In other circumstances, Dick would still have won. If he'd been as armored as Jason. If he'd dodged that killer blow to his face. If he didn't have blood in his eye. If he wasn't fighting in a mansion designed by someone who thought it was an art gallery.
It wasn't other circumstances.
Jason wrapped an arm around Dick's neck, pulling back and making Dick arc his back painfully. Dick tried to claw at Jason even though he knew he wouldn't get out of this hold before he fainted.
Was he going to die?
Was Tim dead?
Dick got as deep a breath as he could, opening his mouth to shout a warning, likely in vain but he had to try.
Nightwing had always been about trying.
A hand covered his mouth.
Instinct took over and Dick licked it.
"Oh my fucking god!" The grip around Dick's throat vanished and a hand propelled him forward. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Dick spun, ready to continue the fight. Jason, on the other hand, if ignored him as he frantically scrubbed the hand Dick had licked across his pants. "I can't believe you licked me." Jason's face twisted into the utmost disgust. "So nasty."
Dick didn't lower his guard. "You covered my mouth," he pointed out, warily watching for Jason's next attack.
"Yeah!" Jason said without remorse, still scrubbing his hand. "You were gonna yell!"
Was Tim okay? Still unaware that a killer was in his house? "Where's Tim?" Dick asked, his tone low and dangerous.
"In the shower," Jason muttered, critically inspecting his licked hand as though Dick might have damaged it. "I've been fighting with him for hours to get him to take one and I wasn't going to let your self righteous ass drag him out."
"If you've hurt him-" Jason cut Dick off with a snort, looking at him for the first time.
"Kid would have deserved it," Jason grumbled. "Fight as in argue, not throwdown." Jason stuffed his hands in his jean pockets, looking annoyed. "Why the fuck are you even here?"
Dick dropped his hands in astonishment. "Why am I here? Why are you here?"
Jason shrugged. "To make waffles."
"Waffles," Dick said flatly.
"Yeah. Waffles. Not a hard concept, Bird Brain." Jason glared at Dick.
Dick's brain was having trouble with this . "But it's seven o'clock at night!"
"Congrats," Jason snarked, and it was like talking to the teen from years ago, "you can read a clock." Jason shot Dick an evil eye. "I still can't believe you licked me."
"I can't believe you answered the door!" Dick responded more shrilly than he'd admit. All the effort that they'd put in to keeping Tim off Jason's radar and now the older boy was here to make waffles.
Jason pointed an accusing finger at Dick. "I thought you were the grocery guy!"
"Who?" Dick asked, bewildered.
There was a chime from the door.
"I have to go get this. Don't crawl on Tim's chandelier," Jason ordered before stomping off.
Dick followed, peeking around one of the many weirdly placed walls to watch as Jason answered the door and handed a guy a wad of cash.
"If you're gonna stare come be useful," Jason grumbled. Dick approached cautiously, startling as Jason slammed a bag of flour into his chest. Craning his neck Dick could see that the grocery bags covered the top of the steps.
Jason handed another bag to Dick before scooping up the dozen remaining himself. "Kitchen's this way," Jason said, pushing past Dick.
The kitchen was buried deep in the house and Dick could see why Jason was hauling a ton of groceries instead of making three trips. Right. He was packing groceries through Tim's house with the Red Hood.
Dick squashed a hysterical laugh.
In the kitchen was Tim. Alive. Unharmed. Wet.
And clearly unimpressed. "You'd better not have bled all over my house," he said as he glared at Dick. At Dick! Completely ignoring that Jason was right there.
Dick brought a hand up to his forehead and his fingers came away tacky. Right. He was bleeding.
Tim heaved a sigh. "I'm surrounded by dumbasses," Tim muttered, heading over to his sink to pull out a first aid kit. He tossed the metal kit at Dick who managed to catch it with one hand, the other still cradling the flour. Setting the kit on the table, Dick gave Tim a cautious look.
"Tim," Dick asked softly, "why is Jason here?"
It was Jason who answered. "To keep this idiot alive." Jason had set all his bags on the counter and was rooting through them, piling like goods together.
There was a lot of food.
"You idiots," Jason said contemptuously, "left a teenager with no life skills on his own. Replacement was living on stale coffee grounds and sauceless mac and cheese before I arrived."
"Fuck you, Jason. You make it sound like I was chewing on coffee dregs," Tim glared as he watched Jason unpack. "I was doing fine."
"You were living like a gremlin," Jason argued. "Hey, Dickolas." Jason snapped his fingers. "If you're just gonna stand there and bleed you can at least put the flour away."
"Right," Dick said dazedly. "Where does it go?"
Jason snorted. "Anywhere."
That didn't sound right. Everyone had spots for specific things in their kitchen. Even Dick did and he wasn't much for cooking. But not wanting to disrupt whatever the hell was going on Dick opened the pantry.
It was full of dust.
"Tim," Dick asked slowly, "where is all your food?"
Tim shrugged. "On the counter."
-
So far it hadn't been a bad day. Tim's place not only had running water but it also had a fucking tricked out kitchen. Gas range stove with a convection oven, a blast chiller, a salamander and Jason was pretty sure he'd spotted an anti-griddle. It was huge and sleek and the cookware was the best of the best.
And Tim said Jason could go nuts, which Jason would have done if there had been anything in the cupboards besides spiders. Even the fridge was empty save for a pack of energy drinks and a half eaten container of naked noodles that looked undercooked.
Luckily people assumed that a credit card made up for neglect and rich people could afford to be lazy so Jason had submitted an online order for every ingredient Jason's little zombie heart desired.
He'd tossed his and Tim's clothes in the wash, had managed to get the snags out of the Replacement's hair and had cajoled the kid into the shower.
Then he'd punched the golden child in the face.
Good times.
"Why waffles?" Dick asked, his face stuck in the spacey look he'd had since he'd fucking licked Jason .
"Because I fucking want waffles," Tim said, slamming a bag of ice cubes against Dick's face. Not that they would do much.
Jason measured out his dry ingredients while Tim helped Dick clean up, though as far as Jason was concerned the swelling and the blood actually made Dick look better. Less like a priss.
"Language." Didn't stop him from sounding like one as Dick tutted as though he was a badass like Alfred or something.
"My fucking house, my fucking rules, you goddamn prick," Tim snarled as he stomped over to the fridge and threw open the door. Tim stilled and stared, his chest flattening as he stopped breathing. Ice fell over the room before Tim asked in a deadly voice, "Where are my energy drinks?"
"They're Waylon's now," Jason said solemnly.
Tim turned slowly and had Jason not literally died he would have been worried about the expression on Tim's face. "You dumped my Power Zestis down the sink."
"Dick licked me," Jason countered.
" What does that have to do with Tim's energy drinks?" Dick asked, like an idiot.
Tim spun on Dick. "You licked Jason? In my house? Under my roof? What type of fucking animal are you? Do you know how gross that is? Do you have any idea where Jason has been?"
" Hey!" Jason held up a measuring cup full of buttermilk. "I'm literally making you food!"
"And I'm literally helping circumvent the brain damage that dying left you!" Jesus Christ Tim was mean. Jason was really growing to respect that.
"Brain damage? Little Wing," and Dick pushed away from the table, setting the ice pack down. Jason took up the ladle to defend himself from an oncoming hug.
He didn't need to as Tim slammed a hand into Dick's diaphragm, forcing the man to gasp and land back in the chair. "Sit!" Tim barked. "Surrounded by vapid pretty boys," he grumbled, his voice barely audible. "You're both morons but Jason here is the worst."
"I am literally cooking for you."
"And I," Tim said righteously, "am literally stopping you from losing a fight with Batman."
"I would have won!"
"You would have ended up the second prettiest inmate at Arkham!"
And he was back to wanting Replacement dead. Poison would work if it wouldn't ruin a perfectly good batch of waffles. "Fuck you, I'm prettier than Ivy."
A noise tore through the room as Dick slammed his hand on the table . "What." He demanded , "is going on."
"You fucking up my table is what's going on," Replacement said with a vicious glare.
Jason rolled his eyes. "I was gonna get Batman to kill the Joker until Replacement here found me, put a few caps in my ass, and explained why Bruce was too crazy to do it."
"Not what I said!"
"So now we're hanging here until I can come up with a better plan for revenge against Bruce and keep this moron alive."
Jason scooped some batter into the waffle maker.
"Tim went after you? He shot you? But he doesn't even have gear."
"Gear is for pussies."
"Dammit, Tim, shut up!"
The room fell into a hush. "Replacement," Jason said in a staged whisper, "we just made Dickothy swear."
It was ungodly satisfying to watch Dick pinch the bridge of his nose. "I want one of you to explain this coherently. What. Is. Going. On."
"So Jason is an idiot and-"
"Shut up, Replacement, and eat a goddamn waffle." Jason dropped a plate on the table and pushed Tim into a chair. He grabbed Tim's fork and when the kid went to protest he shoves a bite into his mouth. The kid glowered and chewed angrily.
Some gratitude.
While they were waiting for the second batch of waffles to cook Jason launched into a new crystal fucking clear explanation, starting from when he realized Replacement was Camera Tim all the way up to stuffing Tim in the shower.
"And who the hell thought it would be a good idea to let a trust fund baby live on their own?" Jason demanded. "Kid didn't even know his house had a washing machine."
"I told you Mrs Mac handled all that on the day she came in," Tim said sulkily before taking another bite of waffle.
"Tim's always proven to be responsible and knowledgable," Dick argued but he sounded unsure.
"He can't boil water. Seriously. There are stains on the stove from when the water bubbles over the pot."
Dick turned to Tim. "Cooking is just chemistry. Surely you can follow a recipe?"
Jason scoffed. "He didn't know how to buy groceries."
"Burn in hell," Tim snarled but the effect was lost from the way his cheek puffed out, obviously stuffed with waffle. "Mrs Mac and then Alfred always provided food. I bought my lunches from school and would just get takeout when I was done following Batman. I never needed to know how to cook until you trapped me here!"
"Why didn't you just get takeout delivered here?" Dick asked.
"Bristol is out of delivery range." Tim glowered, "not that you care."
" Of course I care," and Dick sounded legitimately shocked that Tim assumed otherwise.
"You got rid of me," Tim spat, pushing away from the table.
Dick snagged the kid's arm and the fork in Jason's hand bent. "No, Tim, no. It was just temporary, just until we could stop Jason from hurting you. We were going to bring you back home when this was done."
Jason knew his look of skepticism mirrored Tim's.
"You thought dumping the kid in a house alone with no gear would keep him safe? When I thumped his ass in the Teen Titans' Tower? Are you high?"
Dick winced. "It wasn't Bruce's best idea."
Jason snorted. "Bruce has never had a good idea in his life."
Dick glared, his infinite patience starting to fray. "You're the one who said you were going to force Batman to kill the Joker."
"And he listened to me when I pointed out that he was using his gun to think, not his brain."
With a sharp nod Jason said "Yeah. We're going to come up with a new plan."
"A better plan," Tim stressed.
Jason rolled his eyes. His plan would have been perfect if Bruce wasn't so neurotic.
Dick sunk his face into his hands. "I can't. Just." He slumped in defeat. "Just give me a waffle."
"No. You weren't fucking invited."
"I won't tell Bruce you're here."
"Help me with my revenge and I'll let you have one."
" No killing."
"And no licking," Jason glared. He needed to wash his hand again.
"Besides," Tim added, like a psycho, "killing people is boring."
-
Jason Todd Lives
"I was so scared. I don't know why my dad never paid my ransom. So very scared."
Bruce looked at the paper and sighed. Alfred read the headline over Bruce's shoulder. "Oh look," he observed, "a dramatic gesture instead of an emotional conversation. I wonder where he picked up that?"
Bruce sighed again.