Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I call bullshit.”

Dick’s grin grows wider. Confident. Smug. Already victorious.

“Wanna bet?”

Jason and Tim both share a look, a silent conversation passing through that ends with Jason arching an eyebrow and Tim’s eyes narrowing.

Dick recognizes those looks. Mischievousness and curiosity, respectively.

Dick takes both looks as a permission to deliver the blow that will smack them both in the face. Figuratively speaking, of course.

He holds his hand to them, one finger up to keep them quiet and still. Without really turning his body, Dick calls out for their youngest, voice jovial.

It doesn’t take long before Damian appears around the corner, one of his mangas on his hand with one of his fingers stuck in-between pages. 

“You better be in immediate danger, Richard. I was reading,” he says, arching a judgy eyebrow at the sight of the extra people present before he turns to  Dick. “What is it?”

“Sorry I pulled you away from your reading, kiddo,” Dick says, genuinely apologetic. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Alright,” Damian says, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern.

Dick easily brushes any dark scenarios that are probably already flashing through the boy’s mind with a smile and a soft but vehement, “I love you.”

Damian merely blinks, eyebrows slightly shot up in surprise and slight besument. It’s barely a second before his expression shifts and then a smile makes an appearance.

And what a sight it is.

Dick’s barely able to hold himself back from stroking the edge where it ends on one of his cheeks. It’s tempting but with both Jason and Tim so near, he doesn’t want Damian to recoil.

It’s already a blessing that he allows them to be in the same room as he is shown affection.

“I’m well aware of that, Richard,” he says, voice soft and almost amused. The smile stays for another second before disappearing behind a frown as soon as Dick loses the fight against himself and sloppily kisses the side of his head. He pushes Dick’s face away, nose scrunched up in disgust. “Richard! Ugh, honestly , you are worse than Titus and he’s a dog .”

“Unfortunately, drooly kisses are part of the deal, buddy.”

Damian rolls his eyes before effectively pushing Dick’s face away with one last half-hearted shove.

Dick lets him go with a laugh. “Go back to your manga, kiddo. Thank you for coming.”

Damian grunts, mumbling something to himself under his breath that none of them really even try to catch as he walks away.

Dick turns just in time to see both Jason and Tim still staring in disbelief, jaws hanging open as they watch the retreating figure of their little brother disappear right from where he came from.

Neither of them want to turn to catch the smugness on Dick’s face he knows he’s wearing.

“I wanna do that,” Jason says suddenly, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. He looks surprised by his own words for a split of a second before he reconsiders and nods to himself. “Yeah, I’m doing that.”

Tim turns to him. “Smile?” he asks, bemused.

Jason smacks the side of Tim's face with the back of his hand. “No, dumbass.” He huffs, hissing through his teeth when Tim punches him with vengeance in the arm. “Ah, fucker - and no, I meant the Demon.”

“You want to make Damian smile ?” Tim asks, looking incredulous, even more so than when Damian smiled. Dick steps a little closer to him in case he goes into shock.

Jason’s lips turn into a sharp smirk, eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah ,” he says quietly, the mischievousness from before making a comeback.

“Damian smiles, guys, it’s nothing new.” Dick shrugs when both brothers turn to him. “What? He does. He has smiled at you two morons before.”

“Yeah, but not like that ,” Jason argues. “That was a completely different smile. And I’m going to get one.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Yes, he has . To both of you. To everyone in the family.”

Jason scoffs. “I think I would have noticed if the Spawn ever smiled at me like that .”

“Dude, he has.”

“Why do you want him to, though?” Tim cuts in, completely baffled.

Jason shrugs. “If Dick can get him to do it, so can I.”

“I think you’re missing a few vital variables in that equation.”

“If Dick can do it, so can I.”

“Oh my god,” Tim mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, get stabbed. I don’t care.”

If possible, Jason’s smirk grows sharper.

“Oh?” he mumbles, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Wanna bet on that?”

Like a true Wayne in everything but blood, Tim freezes and slowly turns to meet Jason’s challenge with a narrowed glare. Dick’s got to admit, he’s quite honestly enjoying the show.

“Do I want to bet if you get stabbed when whatever you have planned to make Damian smile will, certainly, get you stabbed?” Tim asks, voice monotone.

Jason nods, chin held up high with pride as if he had already won. “ Yah .”

Tim blinks. Once. Twice.

By the third blink, his smirk matches Jason’s perfectly.

“You’re on.”

“Wanna make it more interesting?” Jason asks, his hand already hovering near Tim’s extended one, ready to seal the deal. When Tim shrugs, Jason continues, “Jump in. Whoever gets stabbed in their attempt loses.”

Tim purses his lips for a moment before he shrugs.

“Eh, wouldn’t be too different from a regular Thursday.”

“Atta boy.”

"Guys, I'm all for friendly competition and ridiculous bonding excuses, but just be kind, okay?" Dick says, knowing deep down his brothers didn't need to be told of this but his instinct of protecting his Robin from the world urging him to say it either way. "I just ask you to not say something you don't mean. Not to Damian. He doesn't deserve that."

Both of his brothers hold his gaze for a few seconds, understanding clear in their eyes.

And because they are bats and emotionally constipated, both Jason and Tim scoff right after.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't scar even more the already affection starved kid, we know." Jason says, adding a lazy wave of his hand to add to his nochantl pretense. "Relax, Big Bird.” 

Dick just limits himself to shake his head. And remind them that he’s in the lead on their first bet.

Jason is a patient guy.

Most of the time.

Sometimes.

He’s not.

Which is exactly why he strikes exactly two days after Dick had delivered his blow, earning him the first win. Yeah, well, Jason’s aching to shove that win up his ass with his own win.

Which he will get.

Tonight.

Either a win or a stab, but Jason’s is walking away tonight with something .

He made sure to look and sound both indifferent and nonchalantly when he asked to be partnered with Robin earlier in the night before patrol. Both Tim and Dick had sent him a knowing look which he had brushed off with a quick flip of his finger behind Bruce’s back.

Bruce, for his part, had looked at him oddly, the smallest tilt of his head showing his curiosity that had yet to turn into suspicion. His plan had moved into motion the moment Bruce had turned to Damian, asking for his input.

Surprisingly, the kid had limited himself to shrug as agreement before saying something about Jason ‘ not being in his way ’.

Now, as their patrol is nearly over, Jason is finally blessed with the perfect opening.

They are both watching from the rooftop of an apartment building as the police gather up the group of burglars Robin and Red Hood had left for them wrapped like a gift on the stret’s lamp post. It's silent besides the police sirens and the muffled chattering of the civilians below them.

Red Hood delivers his blow as the last burglar is shoved inside the police car.

He crouches next to the kid, elbows on his thighs to balance himself. Robin doesn’t turn to him, at least not until he calls out to him.

“Hey, Little Man,” he says, doing an effort to keep his voice friendly. He’s canalizing his inner Dick Grayson. He pulls his helmet off, oddly heavy and in the way.

And - oh, wow, Jason suddenly feels nervous. He wets his lips before he clears his throat and, not letting himself dwell on it, says, “I don’t say it a lot, but I love you.”

Robin doesn’t react. He doesn’t even blink, at least Red Hood doesn’t think so but then again it’s hard to see behind the lens of his Robin mask.

Well, now he feels self-conscious.

He’s still hopeful, though.

He’s well rewarded by his hope when he sees the smallest twitch on the kid’s mouth, barely visible but it’s there and - oh, Jason’s so close . Should he repeat it? He feels suddenly empowered.

And warm. The hell?

Whatever. Roll with it.

‘You can do this,’ Jason tells himself inside his head. ‘This is your family. This is your little brother. It’s a win-win, bitch. Do it.’

And he does.

“I love you,” he repeats, allowing his own smile to grow on his lips in hopes it will encourage Damian’s to do the same.

It seems to work because Robin’s tight line is slightly turning up as he turns to face him properly. A heartbeat passes between then and then Robin leans closer, arms suddenly held out and Jason is baffled.

Is the kid going to hug him? Holy shit, is this going to earn him extra points?

More importantly, though; will it be nice? Robin is still small compared to him. He can’t help but wonder how his brother will feel wrapped around his arms.

Will he be soft? Warm? Does he grips the back of shirts or capes tightly like Jason used to do when he was a kid?

Wow, Jason’s quite embarrassed to admit, even to himself, but he’s genuinely excited to find out.

Which is exactly why he doesn’t. Because life likes to fuck with Jason Motherfucking Todd.

Red Hood lets out a sharp cry, more out of surprise than pain, when his right arm is twisted behind his back on a smooth move. Robin hisses at him angrily from above, the twitch on his lips turned into a sneer.

“Silence, Imposter,” Robin spats, twisting the arm harder as he forces Jason to the ground. “This is Robin to the Colony, I have a situation.”

“The fuck? ” Jason hisses, grunting when his face is shoved into the ground. The curses he snaps at the kid are barely muffled.

“Report,” Batman’s voice comes through both of their comms.

Since Jason’s is currently incapable of responding, both physically and mentally since he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, Robin takes it upon himself to answer. Like he was going to, either way.

The little entitled shit .

“Red Hood has been compromised. I suspect mind-control or identity theft with high tech,” Robin says, smoothly rearranging himself to immobilize Jason when he moves. The flat part of a blade presses itself on his cheek as warning.

Jason stops moving then. He huffs, but stops moving.

What the fuck ever.

He’s embarrassed enough, he’s going to let the rest of his batshit crazy family clear this up.

But when two distinguishable laughs echo on the comm, Jason curses himself for putting so much faith in his dumbass family.

Batman just grunts. “I’m on my way,” he says and if he’s bemused by the entire situation, he doesn’t show it. As always.

Jason groans against the ground. His nose is starting to hurt.

“This is the last time I express emotion,” Jason grunts, done with life once again.

He hears Robin scoff above him.

“Your acting skills were, unfortunately, impeccable,” Robin grumbles before his grip tightens and his voice turns sharper, “but it was indeed your willingness to express affection that ultimately gave you away.”

Now, that’s oddly sad. Does Jason really doesn’t show affection?

Does his family doesn’t really know he loves them? Does Damian know?

“Kid -”

“Now, I’m only going to ask you once,” Robin cuts him off harshly, speaking over him. “What have you done with my broth - my teammate ?”

Ah, no, no. No takes back.

Jason caught that. He caught the slip .

What a good slip.

“ Nothing ,” he hisses, sounding more tired and annoyed than in pain. “Kid, it’s me .”

“Slander,” Robin snarls, leaning down. Jason can barely catch his profile from the corner of his eye.

Huffing a sigh, Jason rolls his eyes and brings out his big guns.

“Would an imposter know that you visit animal shelters thrice a month?”

“With enough stalking.”

“Will they know that one time you got sucked into one of Goliath’s nostrils during his first and last attempt of a shower in the batcave ?”

Silence. Jason’s heart beats annoyingly hard on his ear for a few more seconds before the weight above him is lifted and there’s no more blade pressed against any part of his skin.

“Is this a pit episode?” Robin asks as soon as Jason pulls himself together, grumbling and cursing all the way up. “ Hood, is this a weird-non-examined pit episode? ”

Jason scoffs. “No, it’s not a fucking pit episode.”

Robin narrows his eyes, not convinced. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, I’m fucking certain,” Jason snaps, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, what do I have to do -?”

Be stabbed. That’s what Jason had to do.

It barely does any damage, the blade itself meant to main but not kill. It’s also not even that deep into his bicep, snuggled somewhere he knows no main arteries are located.

But it hurts like a bitch . And Jason’s so fucking annoyed now.

“Hijo de tu puta madre!” He hollers, doubling over as he works through the hot pain spreading over his right arm and shoulder. More curses leave his mouth, some which he doesn’t even care to filter. He’s on a roll. And that seems to be proof enough for the demon he calls brother.

“Further investigation may be required but it seems you are, unfortunately, yourself, Hood.” Robin says, standing a few feet away from him, both hands on his hips. Satisfied with his discovery. “You’re welcome.”

Oh, Jason snaps .

“That’s it!” Jason screams at the same time Batman lands on the other side of the rooftop. “ Now it’s a fucking pit episode.”

Alfred makes them hug it out.

“Don’t stab me,” Jason snaps, narrowing his eyes as warning as he shoves a finger up to the kid’s face when he’s near enough.

Damian scoffs, mask off but his uniform still on, even when it had been a while since they all had arrived from patrol. 

“Don’t make me stab you, then.”

“You little shit -”

Alfred clears his throat, leveling them both with a pointed look. He nods, pleased, when both Jason and Damian relax their defensive postures.

“Before dawn breaks, if you please, young masters.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason sighs, waving a hand in the air with his un-stabbed arm before he opens it wide. “Alright, kid, get in here. I want to take a nap.”

Damian scoffs but still does, moves slightly sluggish and slow. Jason hums to himself as he watches him, an eyebrow barely arched.

When Damian all but slumps against him, Jason blinks in astonishment, throwing a wild and confused look at both Alfred and Bruce who were the only ones remaining in the cave.

Alfred merely nods his head while Bruce’s gaze softens ever so slightly before he turns back to the batcomputer.

And Jason is left alone with his menace of a little brother.

“Um,” he mumbles, smacking his lips together. He doesn’t know what to do, since he honestly expected the little demon to be stiff as a board.

Except he’s not and Jason wraps his good arm around his shoulder to keep him up and steady, adding two awkward pats on his back because he’s channeling his inner Tim Drake for some reason.

Damian leans into the hug for the briefest heartbeat before he pulls back and clears his throat.

“I apologize for the stab wound,” he says, a guilty edge on his tired and slightly red rimmed eyes. The kid looks, and probably is, exhausted and yet…

Jason clicks his tongue and crouches to meet the kid’s eyes.

“Nah, it was my own doing ultimately, really,” he says, dumbly shrugging with his bad arm. He winces at the light but hot pain that spikes from the action.

Then a bare slim hand sets itself gently on top of his bandages, right on top where the wound still rages hotly. Jason blinks, confused until he feels it.

It’s faint, extremely so, but it’s there. Damian’s fingers are cold, the contrast of their temperature colliding with the wound’s rage briefly before it soothes it.

Not by a lot. It honestly doesn’t do much. 

But the words behind the action are so loud .

Jason’s stomach drops as the night’s events flash through his mind.

Does Damian know?

“Hey, kid, do you really think I don’t…,” he trails off, throat suddenly dry. Unsure how to continue, he finishes with a lame, “ you know .”

Damian, for his part, catches his drift and looks utterly bewildered at the suggestion.

“Of course not,” he answers slowly, eyeing Jason carefully. “It was merely desconcertaining, I suppose, since it was a far cry from your usual display.”

Jason frowns, confused. “My usual display?”

Damian frowns back at him, head tilted to the side as he considers him. It’s not long before he rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue.

“I’m hardly your therapist, Todd,” he says, taking a step back before he turns towards the lockers, throwing a quick ‘good night' to both Alfred and Bruce behind him.

Jason pouts and falls on his butt on purpose, ignoring Alfred’s disapproving sigh.

What the hell did that even mean?

Two weeks later, Jason eventually gets it.

“Hey, Tater-tot,” he says as he barges into the library, barely holding himself back from kicking the door open for his entrance. Alfred always gets rightfully moody whenever he finds any of their foot prints on doors or walls alike. “Remember my neighbour's pregnant dog I told you about?”

“Of course,” Damian replies with a nod, eyes not leaving the book on his lap. A thought seems to cross his mind, making him meet Jason's gaze across the room. “Why? Is she alright? Did they not get the supplies? Pennyworth reassured me the package had everything they might need pre and post labour.”

Ah, so that was what his neighbour had meant when she told him ‘your brother was an honest blessing’ when he talked to her this morning.

Damn, this kid and his heart .

Jason is quick to wave his worries off. “Nah, kid,” he says, smiling wide. “I just found out she went into labour a couple of weeks ago, actually. She gave birth to six healthy puppies.”

Damian’s shoulders immediately relax at the news. “Oh, that’s good to hear.”

Jason nods. “Obviously. Now, get off your butt. We need to leave before traffic hits us.”

Damian tilts his head, confused. “What? Go where?”

“To my neighbour’s, duh .” Jason chuckles. “What? You think I came all the way here just to flip Bruce off and steal some of Alfred’s cookies?”

He did both things, of course. But neither had been his main target.

And Damian seems to catch on that, because he perks up almost brightly.

“Oh,” he mumbles. And smiles .

May the universe have mercy on them all but Dick was right .

Heck, Damian had been right too.

Jason finally hears his own message loud and clear.

I love you, didn’t you know?

And, more importantly, he sees it when his brother hears it as well.

Duh. Damian’s soft smile says as he tells Jason how to properly hold one of the one-month-old puppies. Of course I know.

Chapter Text

Tim, honest to God, was about to dismiss the sight as another one of his hallucinations, already used to them with all the sleep he normally doesn’t get.

But then he remembers it’s been a few days since he slept anything less than seven hours, uninterrupted. Heck, he even took a nap today. In a bed .

Tim backtracks his steps, his thumbs still hovering over his phone’s screen where he left his text half-written, and pops his head into the room.

His non-hallucination — give it up, Tim, he’s real — doesn't move. Damian’s stare seems to be fixed on whatever had caught his attention outside the window, himself neatly tucked on the corner of the couch.

Tim steps into the room in two short strides. Damian, again, doesn’t move. And Tim’s not sure what he's doing, exactly, himself.

He just knows that something is clearly wrong with Damian. And he has an itchy feeling of wanting to help.

Curse it all, he knew having a good healthy sleep schedule would mess him up.

Tim clears his throat, shifting awkwardly on his feet. Daman doesn’t turn, only acknowledging his presence with a subtle tilt of his head.

That’s permission enough for Tim. One he didn’t know he was waiting for.

“Hey,” he says, lamely, and Tim suppresses the urge to wince at how awkward and uncomfortable he sounds. Damian must have heard it too if the way his shoulders hunch over, curling into himself harder than before, is anything to go by.

Tim really is a mess in this whole big brother thing, isn’t he?

He never seems to get it right.

“What are you doing?” he asks either way. He already started whatever this is, he might as well dive all the way in.

Damian shrugs half-heartedly and that’s it. That’s all he does.

He doesn’t scoff. Huff. Glare. Snap.

Heck, he doesn’t even click his tongue .

Where’s his ‘tt’ ? Where’s the goddamn ‘tt’ ? 

‘C’mon, kid, gimme something,’ Tim thinks, thoughts racing through his head as he bites the inside of his cheek and glances over the door he left open.

He could leave. He could walk out and leave Damian to whatever he’s doing.

But something is wrong , beyond his awkwardness and uneasiness, and Tim can’t make himself leave .

Oh, God, he’s going to end up stabbed.

And the thought just reminds Tim of the bet he had made with Jason months ago; the one that Tim ended up winning because Jason had, indeed, ended up being stabbed by their baby demon brother in his attempt to verbalize his affection, just like Tim had predicted so.

And Tim hadn’t even tried . He didn’t even have the chance to hype himself up enough to give it a try and actually tell the little demon he loves him.

Because he does. Of course Tim does! 

But does Tim want to throw hands and, more often than not, batarangs at him? Of course! He’s Damian and his little brother, he’s bound to get on Tim’s nerves. Constantly . 

He still loves him though … !

Not that Damian, assumingly, knows that.

But damn it all , said little demon just knows how to push Tim’s buttons and make him throw every fraction of affection he has for him out of the window. Daily .

He’s been told that it’s just what brothers do, the classic: I would give you my liver without hesitation but still smack you to the next life if you take my phone charger.

Hence the reason why the following weeks after the bet, Tim discarded every chance he got to even do an attempt because Damian had been acting like such a Damian and Tim didn’t want to have anything to do with him until further notice.

Then Jason got stabbed and Tim didn’t even had the chance to feel smug because his stupid-ass big brother sent him a selfie not even two weeks later with a look that held the exact amount of smugness Tim had wanted to smack him with.

And that meant Jason got a smile. A Damian’s smile.

Tim doesn't know how. Or where. Or when. But his brother’s smugness was proof enough.

And Tim didn’t care . He hadn’t cared in the absolute least because he had been pissed with Damian at said moment because the little gremlin had, somehow , let Jerry the Turkey nest on Tim’s bed when the temperature in Gotham got the slightest chill.

But now, well, fuck Tim.

Now his well-concealed affection is demanding an outlet Tim’s not sure he can provide.

Seriously, what is he doing?

Without giving it much thought, Tim flops himself on the sofa rather abruptly, an arm-length away from Damian, which is something the kid seems to appreciate since he doesn’t react much.

He doesn’t have a plan. Far, far, far from it.

But he’s not a member of the Batfamily without reason. He stubbornly keeps his ass rooted to the couch. With tense limbs and fingers drumming against the side of his phone, but he keeps it glued .

“What are you doing, Drake?” Damian asks after a few minutes in awkward silence, sparing him an unimpressed glance before he goes back to the window, dropping his chin on his open palm.

It doesn’t sound like a ‘ go the fuck away ’ so Tim’s ass stays where it is.

Also, to answer Damian’s question, Tim obviously doesn’t know himself.

Not that he’s going to say that .

“I asked first.” Tim throws back, hiding his wince by stretching on the spot, throwing his arms up. He fauxes a yawn for bonus points. “I thought you’d left with Bruce for patrol a few hours ago.”

Damian shrugs, distracted and uncaring, and if that isn’t another read flag to tell Tim that something is clearly fucking wrong .

Damian? Missing patrol deliberately? With Bruce — ?

Yeah, no, okay ; Tim can believe that last one.

But still. Patrol .

Tim purses his lips, sinking back on the couch as he allows Damian the win of this round. But just because Tim’s lost on what should be his next move.

He knows something is wrong, that much is obvious. Other than that? Tim’s fucking clueless and he’s quite unoffically — or offciially, he lost track — the greatest detective on the world.

He’s a goddamn disgrace. God, don’t look at him.

Tim sighs inside his head, resting his head on the back of the couch as he glares at the ceiling. Why is he even here? Why is he even trying so hard to find out what’s wrong with Damian? It’s Damian, come on.

Yeah, okay, fine . He’s also his little brother and he cares about him and he loves him and yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever .

But still.

How does one do — well, this!?

Is he supposed to — what, exactly? Start guessing the problem? He gets points with every right key word he gets right and stabs with every wrong guess? 

Tim tries to think back to his own days when he would be like Damian: looking like a sad pre-teen/teen potato in a corner of the big ass manor and looking outside the window like in those old emo music videos.

Jason has literally dragged Tim in a headlock until he had spilled his truths and coffee. Which is always, always, always a lose-lose for them both because Jason ends up with a coffee burn somewhere on his body and Tim ends up without a coffee.

Dick on the other hand —

Ah.

Oh.

Yeah, okay. Tim’s getting on with the program.

“Is this about Dick?” he blurts out before he can stop himself and can’t even hide the wince he does when Damian immediately goes stiff. Woah, and Tim’s supposed to be the genius of the family. 

He shuts his lips tight after that, knowing he would probably just make it worse. Heck, Damian is probably poundering right now if stabbing him would be worth the lecture he will get from Alfred for getting blood stains on the couch.

Is this the moment Tim should start running or - ?

“ No ,” Damian snaps then, lips set tight on a line as his eyebrows furrow together and he glares at the windows. Poor windows but, honestly, better them than Tim. “Yes. Maybe.”

Damian huffs, shoulder hunching ever further down and Tim sees him literally clam up.

Tim should do something.

“Just leave me alone, Drake.”

Yeah, no. Tim’s definitely going to do something now.

The jury’s still out whenever that is something smart or stupid, but he’s doing something .

“You know, on the risk of sounding incredibly stupid.” Tim starts, smacking his lips together. “There’s something I do to make myself better when,” a small pause, “well, when it hits me harder than other days.”

Damian spares him a glance but that was enough for Tim to catch the small curiosity edge in his eyes.

Tim continues, knowing he had his attention. “Well,” he says, swallowing his nerves and barely resisting the urge to bite on the inside of his cheek, “you know that physiological experiment? The one where you hold out your hand and you have to imagine you’re holding an orange and eventually you start feeling the weight of said ‘orange’ and at some point you can even smell it?”

Damian blinks at him, creepily blank, but still nods and mumbles a small, “Somewhat.”

“I do that but with, uh, um — fuck, how can I explain this?” Tim murmurs to himself, running a hand through his hair as he hunches over his own body and groans in despair. “Ugh, okay, don’t laugh at me, Demon, but I do that but imagining a hug of said person I’m missing. There, I say it.”

Damian limits himself to blink.

“A hug.” He repeats eventually, looking as if he’s still processing this new, and now part of the Top Five most embarrassing things Tim has probably ever said, information.

Well, Tim’s already here. Might as well go out with a boom.

Damian scrunches his nose but Tim can easily notice that it’s his ‘concentrating’ scrunch and not his ‘disgusted’ scrunch.

Tim, however, is disgusted with himself for knowing said difference. God, stupid affection .

“And start with...” Damian trails off briefly, looking for the words before he slowly says, almost like a hiss, “an orange, you said?”

“Noo! Just — forget about the orange, okay?! I imagine getting a hug, stop making me repeat it!” Tim groans as if in pain. “Listen, sometimes it gets lonely, you know when depression hits and shit, and I want a hug but don’t want to ask for a hug, so I imagine and remember people actually love me and eventually I imagine I can physically feel their love. There, that’s it .”

Tim crosses his arms, lips out on a pout as he stares at Damian and arches an eyebrow when the boy holds out his hand and narrows his eyes at it.

They sit in silence. Damian staring at his hand and Tim staring at him.

It’s not long before Damian gives his verdict.

“You’re right, Drake,” Damian says quietly with a solemn nod as he puts his hand down. “That is stupid.”

Tim grimaces, any warm hopeful feeling that might have been bubbling inside him squashed underneath a second.

“Nonetheless,” Damian continues, turning his head ever so slightly for Tim to catch the small grin on his lips. “I both respect and appreciate the courage it took to say something so stupid.”

Tim blinks once. Twice.

Oh. Oh, warm squishy feeling bubbling back up.

“However weak it had been, honestly .” Damian adds with a huff, rolling his eyes and his smile taking the slightest turn to become a smirk. He’s teasing . “ An orange , he says.”

“Oh my god, fine! Next time we discuss analogies, you are in charge of choosing the fruit,” Tim scoffs with a roll of his eyes, unable to resist the urge of reaching out and ruffling the kid’s hair, grinning widely when Damian clicks his tongue in annoyance and swats his hand with force.

Alright, yeah, now this? This is more like it.

“You know it’s fine if you miss him, right?” Tim says, his voice taking a fond edge he hadn’t authorized. Hey, genius brain, stop exposing him and his feelings. “Dick has been gone for a while and even if we know he’s okay and on his way back, the established communication is only one-sided. It’s completely normal to miss talking with him and, well, having him close.”

“I suppose,” Damian mumbles quietly, drawing his leg up and close to his chest, dropping his chin on top of his knee. “I don’t miss his hugs, though.”

Hah, more like: Miss Tim with that big-ass lie.

“Uh-huh.”

“They’re suffocating.”

“Sure.”

“Sweaty.”

“But warm.” Tim points out.

Damian hums, tilting his head to the side as he closes his eyes, and gives Tim the win for that round.

“But warm, yes, I suppose.”

“And long .”

“Also true.”

“And nice.”

“I’m not imagining Richard hugging me, Drake,” Damian huffs, eyebrows furrowed together but keeping his eyes closed.

“Didn’t say you were.” Tim shrugs. He stays quiet for a few minutes before he opens his mouth again. “How does it feel, though?”

Damian scoffs, flipping him wordlessly, but still doesn’t open his eyes.

After a few more seconds, Damian blinks his eyes open and doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Not quite like Richard’s,” he mumbles with a small voice, embarrassed to admit finding joy in something he called stupid, but too proud to not own his actions, “but I understand what you meant.”

“If I was any other type of brother, I would literally throw himself at you and hug the heck out of you,” Tim says, smirking as Damian scrunches his nose in, finally, disgust. Ah, it feels good to know the feeling is mutual. “But, lucky for us, I’m not.” 

“Small miracles.”

Tim snorts so hard that it, somehow, sets Damian off and suddenly the little gremlin is laughing with him. Not at him, with Tim .

Maybe there is hope for Tim in all this big brother thing.

“Hey,” Tim calls quietly, suddenly not caring if he ends up taking a trip to the med-bay tonight. “It can also measure how much you love someone, did ya know that? Like with the orange.”

It’s Damian’s turn to snort, rolling his eyes theatrically before he settles them on Tim with a look.

“That’s a stretch, Drake.”

“No, really. You don’t believe me?”

“Clearly.”

“Hah, watch and be amazed, Gremlin,” Tim says, a grin growing on his lips as he shifts on his seat to face his brother and holds out his hand. “Behold, in my hand rests the love you bear for me!”

Damian stares at him, looking between Tim’s empty hand and Tim’s eyes.

“You’re a moron.” Damian deadpans but Tim sees the twitch on the corner of his lips and Tim feels his own grin widening.

“Woah!” Tim gasps then, making a show of dropping his empty hand between them dramatically, an invisible weight making it hard to keep it high in the air. “Woah, did you see that? Dude, that’s a heavy love!”

Damian’s eyes widen a small fraction in surprise before he scoffs. “As if! This hand lies .”

“Woah, hey! ” Tim exclaims again, over exaggerated, bringing up his free hand to cup the invisible weight better as it ‘grows’ bigger. “Damn! I didn’t know you loved me this much, Dames.”

“Stop it,” Damian huffs, eyeing Tim’s cupping hands suspiciously before he glares at Tim. “You’re not that special.”

Tim throws himself back on the couch, both of his hands facing up.

“ Aah, so heavy! ”

“Drake!” Damian shouts but there’s the start of a new laughing set somewhere in there and Tim grins like a madman when a pair of feet starts pushing on his side. “Stop it!”

Tim laughs as he groans and grunts, making it a show as if he lifts something above him and sits up properly once again, cackling as he pushes his little brother’s feet away.

“I didn’t know you loved me that much,” Tim teases lightly but his gaze softens when Damian huffs loudly and crosses his arms. He idly smacks Damian’s half-heartedly attempts to kick him in the chest. “Wanna know mine?”

Damian clicks his tongue. “ Of course not ,” he says, tilting his chin up before throwing Tim a side glance while his fingers twitch anxiously.

“Uh-huh,” Time mumbles, rolling his eyes once before he quietly reaches to untangle his brother’s arms, offhandedly smacking him on the forearm when the little shit stubbornly fights him on it.

With his deed done, Time doesn’t waste time to reach for his brother’s hand properly, putting it between them, palm facing the ceiling, just like he had done so with his own mere minutes ago.

“How does it feel?” Time asks softly after a brief silence, arching an eyebrow as Damian stares at his hand with a strange look on his face.

“Heavy,” Damian finally answers, voice quiet and, dare Tim say, relieved when Tim doesn’t correct him. It lasts less than two seconds before he clicks his tongue and, with his hand still up, he sends Tim a playful look. “Didn’t think you liked me that much, Drake.”

“And you’d be in your own right, you little cretin,” Tim hums, shrugging offhandedly even as he grins, “but it shouldn’t be a surprise, though. Even if you’re a gremlin and everything.”

Damian snorts, kicking him on the thigh with his heel but Tim’s still able to catch the glimpse of a smile.

Wait, is that the smile both Dick and Jason —

“Having a healthy sleeping schedule has really messed up with your head, Drake,” Damian says, trying to turn around and stand up from the couch. Tim wonders if things are getting too mushy for him. “Save us both from any further embarrassment and go back on being a zombie.”

Tim hums, considers his options, and then decides to remind his brother he truly does love him, even if he drives him crazy 24/7.

“You know, I might take you up on that. There’s this League case I hacked out of their system a few weeks back, about an international drug ring that is waiting on the dust, calling out my name -”

“ My name , you mean.” Damian cuts in, grin sharp as he shifts and looks ready to jump over the couch at any second.

Tim laughs, holding both his hands up, and throws the hook. “Our names?”

“Deal.” Damian says without even thinking about it, eyes suddenly bright as he leaps over the couch effortlessly. “Gamer’s chair is mine!”

“ Whatever ,” Time shouts back at him with humor, chuckling to himself as he pushes himself off the couch and joins his brother in the hallway. “Laptop’s in my room, get the files and evidence out. I assume you already know the password for the laptop?”

Damian scoffs next to him, chin tilted up. “Of course I do. It was a child’s game.”  

“ Whatever ,” Tim says, dragging out his complaint even as he fights back a smile and shoves his brother forward. “Just do it, you menace. I’ll be there in a few; I’m going to savage some of the cookies I saw Alfred bake earlier if Jason hasn’t stolen them by now.”

Damian turns to face him, opting to walk backwards just to make a servant out of Tim, “Get some tea, too!”

Tim waves a hand in the air. “Yeah, fine.”

“And some snacks for Titus!” 

Tim resists the roll of eyes. “Fine, but no Jerry!”

“ Fine .” 

Tim nods, satisfied with the arrangement, his body already half-way turned to take the stairs and head to the kitchen.

“Drake,” Damian calls, standing on the corner of the hallway when Tim turns to him.

And oh .

Ooh , yeah. Okay , so Dick had been right.

And Jason, apparently.

“Thank you.”

Tim doesn’t fight it this time, he smiles back just as brightly and hopes the words behind it are as clear as his brother’s are.

“Any time, Dames.”