Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At this point Jason is considering hiring some kind of supernatural specialist. Because after all the bullshit he’d had to deal with in the 20 something years he’s been alive (and the couple or so he wasn’t), there has to come a point to admit he’s been cursed.

Did he piss off a witch in a past life or something, because this can’t be normal.

Of all the things he thought he might be dealing with today not once did it cross his mind that Tim Fucking Drake of all people would be the guy to pin him in an alleyway.

Not literally of course, the kid looks maybe 110 lbs sopping wet and he’s not even in costume. A fact that Jason is bitterly pleased about. The only thing that would make this whole conversation even more unpleasant would be the replacement cosplaying his childhood. But as it stands he isn’t.

In fact, Jason isn’t even sure Tim knows that He knows he’s Robin.

The kid stands in front of him, back to the opening of the alleyway, dressed in his school uniform. Like he’d caught a bus from the good part of Gotham to the shit hole that was Crime Alley. He doesn’t even look nervous about it, just determined as he brandishes a piece of paper for Jason to take.

Up until this point it had been a good evening. Red Hood’s control over the criminal ecosystem had been wielding good results. Drug Pedaling down 18%. Sexual Assault down 47%. Stabbings and Shootings down 23%. And with the demolition of this latest gang he’d been casing, he was sure the Pedaling percentage was about to go up a couple more points as well. But that’s where his good mood had ended.

He’d dipped from his sniper position to piss when Tim had stepped out of the shadows and cornered him to the back wall.

Jason squinted at the paper, trying to read the printed text from the 8ft or so away that he stood.

“The fuck’s this?” He spat, not even attempting to keep the bitter fury from his voice. To his credit, Tim didn’t flinch, though his throat bobbed quickly in a nervous gulp.

“I’d like you to sign this.” Tim stated, a manufactured polite tone coating his words, “I need your help.”

Oh fuck no.

“What makes you think I’d ever do anything to help you?” Jason growled, stalking forward, “Gotham Academy, right? You gotta have some decent cash behind you to go there. What’s the matter, Richie Rich? Mommy and Daddy not forking enough out for you?” He snatched the paper from out of Tim’s hands, gleaming in the way he stepped back in surprise.

Jason snorted through his nose and flickered his eyes over the page.

“Emergency Foster Placement- The fuck is this Richie?!”

Tim audibly swallowed and forced himself to step forward again.

“My parents are being investigated. I can’t go home and if I don’t find someone to say they’ll take care of me, they’ll put me in foster care. And I can’t-” He catches himself quickly, and Jason watches Tim’s face become still with practiced high-society stoicism. “I need someone to sign those papers so I can get child services off my back. And I heard you help kids who need it.”

Fuck you, you low blow striking son of a-

Jason gripped the rage in the back of his mind with both hands and choked it.

“What’s your name kid?” He asked instead. It was becoming clear now that Tim had absolutely no idea who he was under the mask.

“Timothy Drake.” Tim responded in a hollow-y tone. He was clearly checking out from this conversation as much as he could emotionally, and GOD did Jason hate that he could recognise why.

“Don’t you got someone else to sign this, Tim?” Jason asked as softly as he could, rage still simmering underneath the surface.

Tim shook his head.

Ah, so we’re lying today. Jason thought bitterly, knowing all too intimately the exact speed and velocity Brucie would jump to add his signature to the bottom of this page. He clucked his tongue in annoyance.

“You sure about that? No friends or family?” Jason pressed, getting closer still to Tim, “No… Mentors?”

Tim froze, looking up at the polished red gloss of Jason’s helmet.

He quickly shook his head, “I couldn’t… he wouldn’t…”

“And what makes you think I could or would, huh?” Jason interrupted, flicking the paper in Tim’s face, “I’m a murderer, not a mommy. Get lost.”

“Wait!” Tim begged, lunging to grab at Jason’s arm when he turned to leave, “You wouldn’t even have to do anything, you just have to sign it and I’ll leave you alone! I can even pay you.”

Jason wrenched his arm from Tim’s grip, “Don’t touch me again.” He snarled.

“I don’t want your money, and I don’t want you in my life, you hear me Richie?” Tim stumbled back as Jason leered over him.

“I’m dangerous, you’d be better off in the system.” Jason sniffed, knowing just how much of a lie that was. Tim’s hands were crinkling the form with how tight he was holding it. In the light, his eyes seem to shine a little more than they should have. Jason clenched his fists in time with his heart.

“Please…” Tim whispered, “I’m… I’m really desperate…”

Fuck.

Jason took a step back, barely resisting the urge to punch the brick wall beside them. He sighed, the weight of every bad decision clinging to his chest.

Just say no. Just say no. Just say no. Just say no. Just say no.

“Gimme that,” He snatched the paper from Tim’s hands again.

Fucking shit dammit!

“You got a pen?”

Tim blinked owlishly before scrambling to grab a pen from his book bag, as if terrified Jason would change his mind in the 6 seconds he took to search. He held it out to Jason who snatched it right out of his hands.

“Turn around,” He commanded, pushing on Tim’s shoulders til the kid did as he was told. The form was warped against the thick material of Tim’s school blazer but it would have to do. “If we do this, we’re doing it right. You got that Richie? When I sign this you’re my kid.” Jason snarled.

“I don’t do things in half measures. I’m gonna be there for every PTA meeting, every club invite, every fucking carpool you understand? I don’t need some white bread, pearl clutching bitch telling me I’m a shitty Guardian just ‘cause I didn’t ask for this.”

The ink leaked around his signature from how hard he was pressing the delicate nib into Tim’s back. He spun the other around while the cursive was still wet.

“I’m gonna pick you up from school tomorrow and we are going shopping together, got it?”

“I uh… you don’t… I... I can take care of myself, you really don’t have-” Tim stumbled around his words, looking down at the signed form like it was the holy grail.

“We have an agreement Repl- Richie,” Jason caught himself, “That paper says you’re mine til you hit 18. And I am going to give you a childhood, whether you like it or not.” The words were soft but it sounded like a threat.

“I filled out my address on the form, if you’re so nervous about shit, google it before tomorrow. You got somewhere to go tonight?”

Tim nodded.

“Then get! Buses stop running ‘round here at 9. And I got work still.”

Tim nodded again. Eyes wide like he couldn’t tell if he was being threatened or not.

Jason watched the kid book it out of the alley. Signed form clutched in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Once he’d turned the corner and was fully out of sight Jason let the tension in his chest snap.

His fist hit the wall again and again and again, til the leather covering his knuckles wore away and tore at his bare skin.

FUCK FUCK FUCK

What had he done? He couldn’t be a father! One stray nightmare and he’d throttle the kid in his sleep. The last thing he wanted in life was some child stinking up his safehouse, let alone the one that had replaced him. That had taken his place in his family! He’d stolen that from Jason.

Well, clearly not well enough if he didn’t trust Bruce enough to sign the dotted line.

Maybe the Bat had lost his ‘fatherly’ touch in his old age. Not like he really had it much to begin with, emotionally constipated asshole!

Jason would be better than he was. He’d be there for Tim way more than Bruce had ever been there for him. There would be no limit to what he would be willing to do. Not a rooftop Jason wouldn’t be willing to toss someone from if they so much as looked at Tim wrong.

He’d be a better father than Bruce ever could be. And with how Tim was still running around kitted in costume, it would only be a matter of time before old Batsy found out. Just imagining the look on Bruce’s face when he realised he’d been entirely outclassed by his ex-son was delicious.

It made the whole situation, at bare minimum, palettable. At least to the green rage simmering in the back of his skull. It didn’t cry for Tim’s death much anymore, it simply wanted to make Bruce hurt.

Jason sighed. Hands now shaky and bleeding.

He hoisted himself back up the side of the building to collect his stuff. The assassination would have to wait for another time.

Chapter Text

The next day, Jason woke up at 6am to pick up paint from the local hardware store.

The address he’d written down for Tim was to a top floor apartment. One that spanned across an entire floor of the old building it was situated in.

2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, and a living space that had this gorgeous bow window split into 3 large sections. Glass still intact and everything. Jason had bought the place for that window alone. It was angled perfectly to watch the sunrise every morning. A new set of curtains and it would be picture perfect.

Unfortunately the rest of the space wasn’t as well maintained.

This wasn’t the only safe house Jason owned; and he only really liked to renovate one, maybe two, at a time when he knew he was going to be using them. This one was at an odd end of Gotham, just far enough from Crime Alley to make travel inconvenient. So he’d left it alone since signing the papers.

The neighbourhood was decent at least. Most people kept to themselves. The only other people living in the building consisted of a deaf guy (and his service dog) two floors down, and an old lady called Doris on the bottom floor. Jason didn’t know what the deaf guy was called.

When he came to check out the apartment the night before, he’d grimaced at the work he’d have to put in to make this space livable again. Mostly he’d put the address down because he knew he could give Tim his own room here. But man, you never realise just how hard it is to fill a barren space til you gotta actually do it.

He’d swept and mopped the hardwood floors, leaving the place to dry while he drove back and forth between the apartment and another safe house. Deciding to collapse and transport the furniture he did have to the new place. It would be practically impossible to get a delivery of new shit in such a short amount of time so his old and used stuff would have to do for now. Besides he didn’t know what Tim would need outside the basics, but that could be sorted with the shopping trip he’d told the kid to prepare for that evening.

Besides, moving in this way meant he got to keep the couch Kori had picked out of a catalogue one time.

He’d only bought it because of how excited she’d looked, but it was genuinely hideous. The thing was an ugly, mustard yellow velvet, and curved around into what was halfway between a semi circle and a 90 degree angle. It was lumpy too. With one of the cushions flipped from the time Roy had crashed at his place post-mission and accidentally bled over it in the night. He’d never been able to get the stain out so they just decided to pretend it wasn’t there and call it a day.

He reassembled it opposite the bow window in a way he hoped would catch the light in a good way.

After the nightmare that was solo dragging, not one but two, mattresses up 7 flights of stairs Jason had decided to call it a night. He didn’t even reassemble either of the wire bed frames. Deciding, instead, just to toss a loose sheet over one of the mattresses and crash out on the floor.

It was only at 7:36am, in the hardware store the next morning, while contemplating between ‘Eggshell’ or ‘Alabaster’ paint that Jason even considered the idea that this could be a trap.

If it was, it was incredibly well put together and tugged at strings Jason was pretty sure not even Bruce would exploit. The idea of Batsy sending in Robin 3.0 undercover to spy on the mean, nasty crime boss was… a stretch. Obvious soft spot for homeless kids aside. It just wouldn’t be logical. Despite their disagreement in methods, Red Hood was getting better results in the 4 months he’d been in town, than Batsy had the entire time he’d been skulking about in the shadows.

The ‘duffle bag incident’ was probably not the most ‘unarrestable’ act Jason could have gone for but in his defence he’d been freshly high off Lazarus Juice at the time. Plus he was actively improving the quality of life for locals in a way that was undeniable. To remove Hood from the ecosystem now would bring in a squabble for power. One that would kill many more than just a couple drug lords here and there.

Jason wasn’t an idiot. He knew Bruce was watching Hood.

The Bat would have seen every time he ‘took care’ of guys harassing the working girls, or bought one of the street kids a hot meal.

Once he’d lifted a few dozen frozen meals on route to the Penguin Lounge and donated them straight to a local homeless shelter. He’d made direct eye contact (under the hood) with the nearest street camera just to really drive his point home.

If Bruce wanted this grey-area treading crook out of the way, he’d have to do it knowing all these people would lose a lifeline. He’d have to do it knowing his actions could and would cause children to die.

Not that he hadn’t let that happen before. Batman could run through traumatised teens like disposable batteries.

Whoops this one’s dead, better check the orphanage.

Jason snorted under his breath.

Alabaster, he decided, pulling two tins down from the store shelf.

Tim had been too nervous. Too realistically desperate. Everything about the interaction had screamed ‘last resort’. You couldn’t fake the fear of homelessness. Nor the fear of losing the ‘Robin’ mantle.

The green fury in the back of his mind throbbed like an infection whenever he thought about it for too long.

Yeah, you couldn’t fake that.

Meaning that, somewhere along the lines, Bats had given the replacement the impression that any display of weakness (even ones he couldn’t control) would… what? Get him benched? Fired even?

It was pretty clear the kid was only doing this to cling to any level of normality he had left. A smug part of Jason’s brain preened at how badly Bruce must have fucked up to push his own sidekick this far.

Trusting a murderer over the hero of Gotham. Oh how the mighty fall.

Jason spent the next 6 hours or so languidly rearranging furniture and painting the apartment. He’d had to prioritise the most important areas which meant missing out his own room, and both the bathrooms from the equation. But he’d read something about bathrooms needing their own kind of paint anyway so he figured it was probably for the best.

He left the windows open while cleaning up the used rollers, and managed to actually set up some semblance of a bed (with proper sheets this time) before his watch beeped at him, signalling the end of the school day.

It was surreal driving up to the front gates of Gotham Academy.

Parents, Nannies, and kids alike, all funnelling their way out of the school buildings and into various expensive looking cars that lined the streets and every available parking space.

God, this was going to be hell.

Jason found a space (stole one from some lady just as she was about to pull in) towards the back of the lot. Close enough to the gates to oversee every face that came through the doors, but far enough back that no one would harass him to get out of the way. Or worse, recognise him from his own school days. Limited as they had been.

That was the price he’d pay for leaving his hood in the back under the seat.

Besides, he looked too different now. No longer scrawny with squishy baby cheeks and a will to live sparkling in his eye.

If there was anything ‘good’ that had come from his time in the Mountain Dew spa experience it was that it had seemingly reversed 15 years worth (eh, 13 if you took off the time he’d stayed at the manor) of childhood malnutrition.

His shoulders stood bulky and intimidating now, in a way they definitely hadn’t back in his early teens. No one could have been intimidated by the general scrawniness he’d fumbled around in back then, which actually kind of worked in his favour most of the time. Crook’s would underestimate him; write Robin off as just a side dish to the real threat, and promptly regret every decision they’d ever made when he kicked their asses into next week.

As fun as it had been at the time, there was just something about being able to tower over his enemies while the knowledge that they’d fucked up fully sunk in. Some spark of hopelessness in their eyes that was truly addictive.

Jason debated getting out of the car and leaning against the bonnet as the final few classes began to filter their way out of the gates, not much left but the real stragglers. The kids who didn’t want to go home.

For a long time Jason had been one of those kids.

School offered him a break between all the crappy parts of his life. A chance to get a hot meal and to pretend that his life was actually going somewhere other than petty crime and an early grave. The crappy public elementary school he’d attended before Bruce picked him up was alright for that kind of escapism.

He remembered trying to hide in the back of the library for an hour or so after school during the winters, just so he’d be able to sit in a place that had central heating for a little longer. It’s probably where his love of classic literature had come from. ‘Positive Association’ and all that psychoanalysis crap.

Of course, not long after that, his mom had sunk deeper into her addiction and he’d stopped going all together in fear she’d choke on her own vomit while he was out of the house. God knows Willis wasn’t going to check on her.

When Tim finally took the first tentative step from the building Jason nearly cackled out loud.

The kid was darting his head about in every direction possible, trying to gain any kind of visual on his ‘target’. Bruce’s training was obvious in the smoothness of his movements as he darted from shadow to shadow. Jason exhaled sharply through his nose in amusement.

If Tim thought he could possibly sneak past him before he could make good on his ‘threat’, he had another thing coming.

He took care to slam the car door shut a little louder than was necessary when he got out. Not to scare, just to catch Tim’s attention. Even if there was a cruel part of Jason’s brain that still reveled in how such a simple sound made the replacement twitch.

Jason didn’t bother to hasten his step as he walked up to the gates. Letting his casual stride play up his confidence for him. Tim had already spotted him, and thanks to his dilly dallying, there was no one else around to witness whatever was about to occur. Poor Birdie had caught himself in a net.

“If you wanted to get away unseen, I would’ve gone for the crowds,” Jason smirked, “You shouldn’t have held back.”

Tim’s eyes were wide as Jason finally strode close enough to tower over him. There was something in his eyes, some moment of realisation. Perhaps finally processing that, ‘yes, last night really did happen’ and that the person standing in front of him was-

“You’re…” Tim gripped the straps of his backpack tighter.

“Red Hood.” Jason finished, giving Tim a break from his stare to glance about the near empty parking lot, “Didn’t want to scare your classmates with the helmet.”

Tim inched backwards half a step, trying not to make it obvious how desperately he was looking for escape routes, “And… why… why’re you… here?”

Jason smirked, “I’m here,” he wrapped one arm around Tim’s shoulders tightly, guiding him towards the back of the lot where his car was sitting idle, “To take you shopping.”

Tim stumbled over his own shoe laces.

He blinked up at Jason with a bewildered look, as if he’d suddenly started spouting nonsense instead of offering to take care of him.

“You’re… You were serious?” He spluttered, “No! I mean you don’t… I can take care of myself, you didn’t-”

“I already said I don’t do anything in halves, Richie.” Jason tugged open the passenger side door for Tim to get in. The poor kid looked at the upholstered leather like it was suddenly going to sprout teeth and swallow him whole. “You hand in the paperwork yet?”

“Not yet, I was going to register it today.” He gulped nervously.

“Then we’ll stop by there first and head to the store after.”

Jason watched Tim chew his bottom lip before he finally caved and shrugged his backpack off, slipping into the passenger seat of Jason’s car. The door clicked firmly in place as Jason swung around to dip into his own place behind the wheel.

The start of the car ride was tense. Tim seemed to be doing his damnedest to compress himself into as little space as possible, angling himself away from Jason, as if expecting him to reach over the stick to grab him at a moment’s notice.

In the daylight it was easy to see why CPS had been called.

To put it gently, Tim looked… unwell.

He was obviously naturally pale but even the lightest skin shades seemed to flush with at least some life, a healthy glow from a life walking in the sun. Tim looked almost sickly with the paper white shade that coated his cheeks. No pink in sight. Just these deep, blue circles under his eyes, and a jawline that hugged the bone a little too much.

Christ, maybe his parents weren’t feeding him? But still, shouldn’t Bruce have been? Or Alfred?

Jason remembered being plied with meal after meal when he’d first moved into the manor. Alfred had taken it as a personal challenge to help him gain at least 10 pounds by the end of his first month.

Tim looked like he’d been surviving on hopes, dreams, and espresso judging from how uncontrollably his hands were trembling.

“You never said what they did.” Jason frowned, the statement already out of his mouth before he could catch his tongue.

“Huh?” Tim mumbled questioningly, pulling himself from the sharp silence.

“Your folks. You never said what they did to get CPS on their ass.”

Must be pretty bad to make Gotham PD give a shit about you - that last part went kindly unsaid.

“Oh.” Tim replied quietly, “they didn’t do anything.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason snuck a glance over to Tim. The kid was picking at the skin around his nails with almost surgical precision.

“Hm.” Tim nodded, “yeah nothing bad. Like hitting or anything if that’s what you’re thinking of. Some nurse in school just uhh… well they were in, are in, Vietnam right now for work so, they couldn’t get back in time to talk to the police. And the signal’s always spotty out there, so…”

“So they left you home alone?”

“Basically. But I’m 15. It’s not like I’m some toddler that’s going to burn the place down. They’re just making this out to be such an issue when it’s really not, you know?” Tim responded quietly, though Jason could hear the frustration leaking into his tone. More talking out loud than to answer the question.

“How…” Jason paused, wetting his lips quickly as he thought of the best way to phrase this, “How long have they been in Vietnam?”

“Uhh… like, since April I think?” Tim hummed, thinking it over.

It was mid May Jason noted, with some relief.

That’s basically a 4 week vacation, rich people do that shit all the time. Leaving a moody teenager while they got a break is fine, practically normal even. It’s like the main plot point to every ‘16 year old throws a party while the parents are out of town’ coming of age movie.

“They were in Thailand before that though. They left just after Christmas? No uhh, it was before, because their permits got approved early.” Tim corrected, though his voice was still coated with uncertainty as if he couldn’t quite remember.

Jason did some quick mental math.

Nearly 6 months.

Fuck, so much for relief.

“They call you though, right?”

“Oh yeah!” Tim agreed quickly, “I mean the signal over there is rough and there’s the time zone stuff as well but yeah, they call. Sometimes I’ll wake up to a voicemail and that’s nice.”

There was a fondness there. It coated every word like honey over hot oats, melting into every bitter crevice.

“They said they were going to sort this out once the dig was over. I already emailed our lawyer with the paperwork.” Tim continued, “She said it would be all taken care of by August so…”

Jason watched as Tim glanced in his direction, seemingly taking a moment while his eyes were fixed to the road to study his expression.

“Umm… thanks for doing this, by the way.” He said quietly, “I know you said you didn’t want money but I swear when this is over I’ll pay you back for whatever you-”

Jason rolled his eyes, “Shut up Richie.”

Tim’s jaw snapped shut with a click.

“I’m not doing this because I want repayment. This isn’t a loan. And I’m not a bed and breakfast.” Jason gritted his teeth.

“Then… why are you doing this?” Tim asked with a snap. Jason could hear how ‘Robin’ he sounded. The cocky, questioning, boy detective coming out of his shell. He caught the green before it could bubble over the surface and slammed both feet on the breaks. Sending them both lurching forward.

The cars behind them honked indignantly while Tim spluttered against the seat belt digging into his throat.

Jason breathed a shaky breath out. He could see Tim’s wide scared expression out of the corner of his eye.

“Because…” he breathed.

Why was he doing this?

It wasn’t all Bruce, was it?

Sure the fall out was going to be delicious but… there wasn’t any need to go this far.

He had the replacement in his car for crying out loud. There was nothing stopping him from driving out into the middle of nowhere and burying the new Robin alive, just to really send that message. Let Tim be the second Robin in Bruce’s care to be put in the ground.

There was nothing stopping him.

“Because…?” Tim breathed.

Jason let his eyes really take in the way Tim’s whole body seemed to shake simply with the weight of being alive.

He wondered if he’d ever been that small. If Bruce ever worried he’d crush him one day with a pat on the shoulder or a soft hand ruffling his hair.

Jason couldn’t remember a single time Bruce had hugged him without him first having to ask.

And for the first time he wondered if Tim was starving just as he did once.

And maybe still did

“Just because.” Jason said firmly, flipping off the car behind them and putting the clutch to the floor with a growl.

Chapter Text

It was a good thing Jason had insisted on driving the two of them over to the city hall because the lady sitting behind at least 3 sheets of bullet proof glass had demanded to see ID.

Jason had no idea what Tim’s original plan was. Maybe beg and put up the ‘poor abused foster kid just wants to live with his big brother’ act til the clerks gave in?

Clearly he hadn’t anticipated Jason to actually come with him and, judging by how he stiffened at Jason’s side, he also hadn’t expected him to have any ID for his obviously fake name.

Luckily for the both of them, Jason had put far too many hours into this already to fuck up here.

He passed Tim’s school ID and a fake one he’d had made up years ago through the glass. The plastic was just the right amount of scratched to convince someone at a glance. Or if it didn’t pass her scrutiny, the $50 he’d slipped her under the card definitely would.

Either way, they left the building with a snazzy new seal of approval.

Tim was now his kid. Officially. No take backsies!

He didn’t look too thrilled about it.

“What do I call you?” He’d asked timidly once they’d bundled back into the car. The stamped form sitting neatly in his hands.

“My name, ideally.” Jason had replied, still smirking from how easy it was to play Gotham’s system. “It’s called being polite.”

“I’m not calling the ‘Red Hood’ that.” Tim wrinkled his nose.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“‘Todd P. Johnson.’” Tim said dully, squinting at the signature. “Please tell me that’s fake. I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday.”

Jason’s smirk grew into a grin as Tim eyed him up and down.

“Please. Just… ‘Todd P. Johnson’? That can’t be real.” He sighed. Jason cackled, pulling into the parking lot of a local dollar store, and refusing to say another word on the matter.

The ice between them continued to melt as they trudged around the store.

“Which would you prefer? The Simba toothbrush or the Cinderella one?”

Tim snorted, picking up a plain red one instead.

“Lame.” Jason groaned at the choice.

“It’s practical?” Tim wrinkled his nose in growing amusement.

“Where’s the fun in ‘practical’, Richie?”

They left the store having spent just over $15 on basic essentials. Jason made a mental note as they left to pick up a spare change of clothes for the kid as soon as he could. The pyjamas and thin hoodie they’d picked up would work for now but there was no way he was going to let his kid live in them.

Fuck, he’d have to figure out the basement laundry situation. Or buy a washer and dryer for the apartment. He grimaced at the thought of lugging both items up 7 flights of stairs. But hey, if it kept his neighbours from seeing the blood he’d inevitably have to wash out of his suit?… Maybe he should call Kori and bribe her with a batch of his famous brownies?

Really it was Alfred’s recipe but he was the one making them. It counted.

“Sorry about the smell.” Jason apologised, holding open the door so Tim could get inside with his backpack and supplies.

The kid sniffled at the scent of fresh paint, curling his head around the hallway to try and see further into the apartment.

“I just finished painting a couple hours ago, I did your room first though so it should be kind of dry by now.” He continued, letting Tim explore as he drew the chain over the door. More locks would be a must but hey, that’s tomorrow’s problem.

“Maybe don’t go leaning against anything til tomorrow though, just in case.”

Heading further in, he found Tim gingerly petting the yellow velvet of the couch. The sun was beginning to set, and while you couldn’t see the yellow dot disappear over the horizon, you could still see the orange light bleeding through the glass. The sight caused Jason to pause in flipping the light switch.

A lump was forming in his throat suddenly. The part of him inside that was still 7 years old was mortified seeing someone used to wealth analyse the home he was working hard on.

“Kitchen’s to the right. And the doors you passed in the hall are the bedrooms. I gave you the one on the left ‘cause it’s bigger.” He cleared his throat a little, “bathroom’s attached.”

Truth be told, both rooms were basically the same size. The real reason Jason had passed the left room over to Tim was the fire escape.

There was a 0% chance he wasn’t going to sneak out at some point.

Duties as Robin would be hard now they were living together and Jason was willing to play ignorant so long as he wasn’t being stupid about it. He didn’t trust Bruce but he also knew Tim was the type to go out on his own regardless.

The kid had this look in his eye. This desperation to please. A need to do anything; to give anything so long as he was praised for it. It was depressingly familiar.

‘With Batman’ was better than ‘without Batman’, which meant midnight escape attempts. The fire escape, at least, had stairs so Tim wouldn’t have to risk breaking his neck. And Jason could mount a sensor to the window ledge so he’d be notified whenever he came and went.

It was as close to a safety check-in as he was going to get here.

With the light of the setting sun illuminating half his face, casting the other into shadow, Tim finished his examination. Staring at Jason with an expression full of awe.

“You really put a lot of work into this.” It came out neutral, but Jason could still hear the way Tim tone curled with incomprehension. As if he couldn’t believe Jason would go to the effort of cracking open a paint can and spending an afternoon with a roller.

He shrugged, “I didn’t want you to live in a hovel.”

Tim’s grip tightened on the plastic bag from the dollar store. And Jason suddenly realised it contained almost the entirety of Tim’s life now.

Shit, was he even allowed in his old place anymore? Like legally? Jason was pretty sure his parents weren’t allowed to live with him or see him without supervision from now on. Or until August as Tim had insisted.

Something in Jason’s chest squeezed at the thought of handing Tim back to his parents knowing they’d fucked off to Asia for 6 months just for funzies.

“You hungry?” He quickly changed the subject before the green could wrap its tendril around his throat.

Tim nodded, seemingly as thankful for the distraction as Jason was.

“You got any allergies?” He asked, pulling off his jacket and tossing it over the couch as he walked past.

“Uhh,” Tim stuttered, with a nervous expression. Jason was learning quickly this was Tim’s ‘I don’t want to be an inconvenience’ face’.

“Shellfish?” He said hesitantly.

“You telling me or asking me?”

“Telling. It makes my throat kind of… croaky? But if you really want to make something with it, you can.”

Jason sincerely hoped he meant ‘in the apartment’ and not ‘served in a dish’.

“Kay.” He hummed, giving Tim a much needed out to squirrel away in his new room.

Dinner ended up being quiet.

Jason’s fingers itched to turn on a radio while he cooked like Alfred used to do.

Bruce had tuned the old thing in the manor kitchen so it could pick up English stations. The intro to many a radio drama was embedded into Jason’s brain the same way the theme song to ‘Nights of our Passions’ was. Memories of his grandmother rewatching episode after episode on the old boxy TV set she had, clouded his thoughts affectionately the exact same way.

Even after the pit, it was nice to see some of the less painful memories still found a way to stick around.

Jason let Tim take his plate to his room to eat amongst a new found safety.

A table would be nice eventually but honestly the day had been exhausting enough.

Their relationship was turning out to be… efficient, at least.

Jason hadn’t expected them to be the best of buddies right away. Hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted them to be. Just ‘functional’ would do.

He supposed he was kind of separating them in his mind. A stark difference in emotion between Robin and Tim, even if a little of either would leak through on occasion. Mostly in the few occasions Jason had been able to poke a little sass out of the kid in the dollar store. That smirk was Robin through and through.

It wasn’t healthy. Probably. But it wasn’t like he was going to go see a therapist about it. What a conversation that would be.

Hey, sorry to bother you, but I just became the primary caretaker to the kid I tried to murder in cold blood about 8 months ago. Think I could snag an appointment real quick?

Fat fucking chance.

He’d just have to keep on going as he had been this last… not even 24 hours… fucking hell.

How do people do this all day? How was he going to do this all day?

Jason sat in the living room staring out the bow window until the light emanating from under Tim’s door flickered out. If he strained, he could hear the faint rustle of sheets being pulled back as the kid got into bed. A part of him wondered if Tim was warm enough. If he’d enjoyed the meal Jason had put together. If he’d eaten his fill or if he was still hungry and was too nervous to ask for seconds.

Tomorrow. He reasoned.

He’d just do better tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Living with Tim was… survivable. The kid wasn’t fighting him on any of the rules he was slowly implementing. And, in a weird way, that kind of worried him.

The obedient nod Tim would give every time he brought up something new was deeply disturbing. Jason was pretty sure he wasn’t this downright forthcoming when he was living under Bruce’s roof, and the man had practically dragged him from the edge of homelessness. Jason was pretty sure even back in his hero worshiping days he was still sneaking out and pulling Bruce up on his bullshit.

It didn’t matter what it was, Tim would nod and agree to everything.

“Hey kid, make sure you’re back before it gets dark okay? There’s creeps out there.” Nod.

“Hey, can you check the locks on the door before you go to bed.” Nod.

After a little while Jason just started making shit up to see how far he could push it.

“No opening the fridge between 3 and 6, got it?” Nod.

He’d do it too. Even when Jason wasn’t home. It was such a sharp contrast to the kid that had kicked him in the balls 8 months ago during their little ‘murderous scuffle’.

That kid had fight in him.

He wanted to live, he wanted to prove himself, and had zero qualms about fighting dirty. The little shit had even critiqued Jason’s technique mid fucking fight. Like he was drafting a suggestion to a recipe blog while he flipped and twisted mid air.

If he hadn’t been so angry at the time Jason could have maybe called himself ‘impressed’.

But that kid was Robin, and Red Hood wasn’t in charge of Robin.

Red Hood was in charge of Tim Drake, and maybe that was the real root of the issue.

Jason didn’t want to run this shit like the military. He wanted Tim to track mud into the house, and blast shitty music loud enough to rock the door frames.

Maybe get a sign that he wasn’t completely fucking this up at every turn.

Instead, it was like the kid was barely even there. Not a peep. Not a hair.

Once he’d come home quietly enough to watch the sliver of light emanating from under Tim’s door suddenly vanish, like he’d been listening for footsteps and hadn’t quite been fast enough to hit the switch. Like he was hoping Jason wouldn't walk up to the wood to knock on it like he always did. Sitting in his room and pretending not to exist, hoping the world would go away. Or maybe just Jason.

If he hadn’t insisted on cooking for them every night he wouldn’t’ve seen Tim at all.

“You know I was just fuckin’ with you about the fridge thing, right?” Tim had looked at him with wide eyes; the kind that told Jason he thought he was in trouble and was waiting for the fallout.

“You can use it whenever you want. Any hour. For anything.”

Tim had nodded like he wasn’t sure if Jason was testing him or not.

And instead of pressing the issue, he just placed a can of chilled soda in front of the kid and let him scurry back to his room. Jason, himself, opted to spend the evening in his, for the purpose of tearing his hair out in private.

He nearly wept in relief when the window sensor let him know the kid was finally sneaking out.

TEENAGE REBELLION! THANK YOU LORD!

The bone chilling panic was almost worth it when he realised his 15 year old would be out on Gotham’s streets, picking fights with full grown adults.

Full grown adults with guns.

So really, he’d had no other choice but to suit up.

Bruce wasn’t the type to change his patrol routes unless absolutely necessary, and it would take a lot more than a dip in the world's shittiest water fountain to make Jason forget that kind of muscle memory.

But the sight still startled him when he finally caught up.

He’d come face to face with the Bat numerous times since taking over The Alley, but those encounters had been on an ‘even’ playing field, so to speak. A fight between two enemies.

It felt wrong to stalk him from the rooftops like this. Dishonourable… kind of.

Bruce might be the only person he was still tempted to fight fair with. That part of him that was still desperate to prove himself useful on the cave sparring mats.

The shadows up here would be useless against the unguarded light of the moon. Experience had taught him Bats would pick up on all his little hidey-holes eventually. It was just a matter of time.

Bruce always cut an intimidating figure.

The abs moulded into the Kevlar were just as visible underneath as they were on top. At some point, over the years, he’d changed the cape material to something shinier that caught the moonlight with a striking white strip. Jason would put good money on it being blast proof too.

Too bad he hadn’t thought to figure that lil feature out before Ethiopia happened. Might have saved him some ugly scaring… if The Pit hadn’t taken care of most of it anyway.

Jason tried not to dwell on how weird it was to feel smooth skin where it should be gnarled and shiney. It was like he had no evidence of the injuries he’d been dealt. No way to prove he’d ever been hurt at all. The only scarred thing was his brain, and most people would sooner toss him in a looney bin than help him heal it.

Fuck ‘em. It was easier to deal with your own shit alone anyway.

Batman’s cape caught the wind with a dramatic swoosh. The moon’s rim light glinted invitingly.

For a brief moment, 15 year old Jason stared out from behind his eyes. Eager to leap from the ledge with an excited yell, knowing that no matter what, his dad wouldn’t let him hit the ground.

The moment passed.

The euphoria turned to sludge in his chest as Tim stepped up to Bruce’s side. The uniform that used to be his was too bloodied and torn to be anything but an antique now, but Tim still wore the colours.

Bats didn’t move to greet him, no pat on the shoulder, not even a nod. Just a turn and a swoop of the cape to signal the start of the night.

Jason spent the next 20 minutes gritting his teeth til they creaked and pressing his forehead into the rooftop tarmac. Liquid grief pooling in his stomach and leaking through stinging eyes. It greeted the green like an old friend.

He came home that night with bloodied knuckles and a limp.

Instead of following the Bat and his new bird through the streets he’d forced himself to take care of business elsewhere. It was the only way he could guarantee his hands would stay away from Tim’s neck.

The den he’d taken out had a name he couldn’t quite remember.

Seven men, armed enough to be comfortable but not guarded, populated the warehouse he’d broken into. A game of Texas Hold‘em spread across thick wooden crates.

Their blood had mixed with the split bags of powder he’d spilled til it became slurry beneath his boots.

In a better circumstance he would have waited. They were nowhere near the drop date. The seven men, now dead, were just the few unlucky enough to be on guard duty. Maybe new recruits, or one with a mouth big enough to piss off the boss. Come the big day, there would have been 30-40 there easy.

He could have taken out a decent chunk of the ring runners. Instead he’d let himself run away into the green.

Now there was a warehouse sitting on the East side of the Docks full of spilled coke and body parts.

Jason smelt of sweat and metal.

One of the guys had caught him with a belt buckle halfway through. The meat of his thigh was screaming like it had been sharpened and laced with something deadly.

He’d kicked the guy’s teeth in for his trouble.

But the hobble he’d been reduced to halfway between the 2nd and 3rd flight of stairs made him wish he’d dragged it out a little more.

He staggered when getting the door open, and only just about managed to hook the locks in securely before his legs failed him.

Yellow light from the street lamps outside streaked through the living room window as Jason clawed out from the hallway.

This was why you always put the med kit on the bottom shelf. He’d had the foresight to put at least one in every room. Paranoia: 0 - Jason: 1…

or was it the other way around?

In an ideal world, he’d be setting himself up in his bathroom for this. Cleaning the wound of whatever filth the buckle had been laced with was probably essential. He’d feel like utter shit if it got infected but with the way his vision was tunneling he probably didn’t have the time.

Jason’s hands shook as he lifted the lid to the medkit, fingers fumbling pathetically with the latch. Nearly dropping the curved suture needle upon finding it amongst the creams and bandages.

You think they’d make these things easier to open for the dying.

The tiniest floorboards squeak had him dropping everything, snatching up a pistol from the holsters on his hips and brandishing the barrel towards the hallway.

Tim flinched at Jason’s raw speed and ducked behind the hallway wall with the practice of someone who knew what a gun in Hood’s hands could do.

“Jesus kid,” Jason wheezed, dropping the thing immediately. It hit the floorboards with a weighted thump. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” Tim mumbled, creeping back out into the open. He hit the lightswitch on the side wall which flooded the room in bright white light. Jason’s eyes saw spots as he made a mental note to push ‘buy a lamp shade’ to the top of his ‘to do’ list.

“What happened?” He asked, eyeing how crumpled Jason must have looked on the floor.

Jason sighed, tossing the packaged needle back amongst the supplies, “Somethin’ stupid. Gimme a hand, will you?”

The kid skittered forward, hooking an arm under Jason’s shoulder to help him stand. Together they hobbled through his barren room and into the ensuite bathroom.

Using the bowie knife he kept near his ankle, Jason sacrificed the leg of his pants. Deciding he’d rather lose the material than struggle with belts and buckles right now. He could get changed after all this bullshit had been dealt with.

Tim worked alongside him in silence. Much too at ease with the situation for Jason’s liking.

It was almost like autopilot, the way he helped point the shower head towards the wound, and ran to fetch the abandoned med kit while the water rinsed away the poison. If his hands hadn’t been shaking so much he would have put a stop to Tim snapping on a pair of sterilised gloves. Would have said something when he unpackaged the suture needle and grabbed a pair of forceps.

Instead he watched and winced as Tim got to work, twisting and knotting the needle in and out of his flesh.

“How’d you know to do this?” He asked at the third stitch.

Tim twitched like he suddenly remembered who he was fixing up.

“We live in Gotham.” He replied flatly.

Jason snorted, “We sure do.”

He dug around in the medkit for a couple of painkillers and swallowed them dry while Tim finished up. The sleeves of his pyjamas were rolled up enough that Jason could see the mottled red turning purple of a bruise on his forearm. One he recognised as defensive. Someone had tried to hit his kid tonight. And now said kid was spending his time fixing him up instead of sleeping.

“You’re a good kid.” he mumbled, glancing over the tie Tim had done for the dressing. He didn’t need to be looking at him to know how startled the kid’s eyes were.

“Go get yourself back into bed, kay? M’sorry I woke you.” Jason reached out and gently patted Tim’s shoulder, nice and firm. And figured it was probably a good sign when he didn’t flinch or back away. A sort of smile graced Tim’s face, just a little twitch at the corner of his mouth but it was enough.

“You don’t want me to help you into bed?” He asked quietly.

“Nah, I’m good. Not that old yet I promise.” Jason let his hand slip away from Tim’s shoulder. He lent his head back against the shower wall, slightly tilted so he could see the almost smirk before Tim replied.

“Say’s the guy who’s already going gray.” He mumbled, pleased at his own joke.

“Wow!” Jason chuckled, “Kick a guy while he’s down, why don’t you?!”

“Sorry,” Tim smiled, not in the least bit apologetic. He pulled the gloves off and tossed them into the little bathroom trashcan.

“Night.” He called on his way out.

“Night.” Jason replied softly.

Yeah.

Good Kid.

Chapter Text

“Hey Hood?” Tim called, words echoey as they bounced over the bathroom tiles, “what should I do with all these?”

Jason rounded the corner to find Tim elbow deep in a bright purple, faux fur bag, filled to the brim with odd containers and little brightly coloured packets.

Ah… that was one of Kori’s then.

Turns out, during exam season, Gotham Academy let students out halfway through the day to give them a chance to ‘study’. So like any good parent, Jason figured he was way past due to take advantage of the perk all dads become dads for.

Unpaid manual labour.

He’d spent the early hours of the day sweeping shit from his old safe houses into boxes and driving them back to the apartment.

The goal was to sort through them before Tim got home. But when Tim inevitably text him around 1pm for a ride, Jason decided it was probably safest to let him go through the boxes labelled ‘bathroom’ and call it a day.

Not that Jason had anything too dangerous just lying around.

Or at least he didn’t think so until Tim had found Kori’s make up bag.

“Oh shit, I was gonna toss these but then I read the labels and didn’t want to pollute the harbour any more than it already is…” Jason sighed, crouching down to take a look inside.

Tim pulled something with neon packaging up to his face, squinting at the intimidating list of ingredients.

“‘Deep Pore Cleansing Masque’. And they’ve written it with a ‘Q’ so you know it’s fancy. Why do you have all these?” He read aloud.

“‘Friend of mine brought them over ‘couple months back and just left them.” Jason huffed, he must have read the packaging at least a hundred times by now, though he was no closer to figuring out exactly what any of these slimes actually did for your skin.

“A friend?” Tim mimicked suggestively, eyeing him up and down.

“A friend.” Jason rolled his eyes, “A regular friend who happens to like… skin things.”

“Is this friend a girl by any chance?”

“Shut up, we’re co-workers.”

“You do face masks with your co-workers?”

Jason waved an expressive hand in Tim’s face, “Once! One time! And it was her birthday, so I couldn’t say no!”

“Sure.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Of course, that must be why she keeps her things at your place.”

“Fuck off.”

“Platonic things.” Tim was smirking.

“You’re such a little shit,” Jason was elated, “Alright then Romeo, let’s hear about your love life.”

Tim faltered slightly, “What love life?”

“Ah! I saw that.” Jason gently knocked his shoulder against Tim’s, “Spill!”

Tim scrunched his nose, “There’s nothing to spill. She was cool and it was working and then it wasn’t working. And I’m pretty sure she’s dating someone else now anyway.”

“Yikes. What’s her name?”

“Steph.”

“And what’s his?”

“Her new boyfriend?” Tim muttered, “Dean, I think?”

“You don’t like him?” Jason asked, watching the way Tim’s whole body seemed to twitch in displeasure.

“I… I don’t know? He seemed kinda like a jerk, I guess? But I can’t tell if that’s just me being a shitty jealous ex, you know?”

Jason nodded.

“I mean, both things could be true, kid. The guy can be a jerk and you can be jealous. You’re being respectful about it though, right?”

“Respectful?”

“Giving her space, trusting her judgement. No weird texts after midnight?”

“Oh.” Tim blinked, “yeah! I mean, she’s her own person so...”

“Good,” Jason smiled, glad that among the mess of misplaced behaviours he didn’t have to add ‘be nice to women’ to the ‘relearn all the healthy life skills’ list.

“Kori’s seriously not my girlfriend though.” He added, sorting through the pile, grouping everything he figured was similar into their own separate collection.

“We used to be on a team for a while and when that was done with we all fucked off in separate directions. We still hang out though. You might meet them one day.” He glanced at Tim, trying to gauge his reaction to the idea, “Only if you want to though. This is you’re home so if you don’t want any fucker in your space you don’t gotta put up with it.”

Tim just shrugged, “It’s fine, I’m used to that anyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“Uhh like…” Tim was fumbling, “I don’t know, I get it if you need to show me off or something.”

“Show you off?” Jason snorted, dropping another container into his pile, “Are you a prized turkey? Jesus, I’m not gonna parade you round the living room. I just…”

Don’t want you to hide in your room anymore.

“Didn’t want you to be caught off guard if a friend of mine crashes on the couch every now and then.”

Tim just shrugged, “Like half of these are going to go out of date next month.”

Jason plucked the packet out of the kid’s hands, “Yeah. Kinda sucks to let them go to waste...”

“Hm.” Tim agreed distractedly, busy picking up the expired containers and tossing them into a nearby trash bag.

Jason grinned. An evil grin.

“Hey Timmy…”

Tim froze.

Jason waved the face mask in his hand suggestively.

“Absolutely not.” Tim started, blinking in horror at the packet like it was due to explode any second.

“You just said it would be a waste…” Jason said, pushing himself onto his knees.

“No. You said it would be a waste.” Tim argued.

“C’mon! Just one.” Jason inched forward, waggling the thing tantalisingly, “You might like it…?”

“You do it if you want it so badly.” Tim ducked backwards, away from Jason and the mask.

“Hey, I’ll do one if you do one.” Jason bargained with a shrug.

Tim blinked, “...seriously?”

Jason shrugged. “You know you want to.” He sang.

Tim looked between the mask, then Jason… then the mask again.

20 minutes later they were sprawled face up on the couch together. Some kind of Green goop smeared on Jason’s skin and a wet sheet of something shaped to look like a cat draped over Tim’s.

“This… actually isn’t so bad.” The kid mumbled, “It’s kinda meditative.”

“My whole body is zero’d in on my face and that there is stuff on it.” Jason mumbled.

“You gotta relax,” Tim huffed, sounding vaguely smug at Jason’s discomfort, “this was your idea.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

“Suffer.”

“Rude.”

A pause.

Tim tilted his head to glance at Jason, “You know when we wash these off, it’s just going to go straight to the harbour anyway, right?”

Another pause.

“...fuck.”

Tim cackled.