Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jason really, really, needed to kick the habit of upsetting magicians who held a grudge. One moment, he's fighting the newest, temporary addition to Gotham's Rogue Gallery, the next, he's teleported halfway across the battlefield and a measly six inches tall

Whatever spell the villain cast packed a punch, because he ached from his head down to his feet, and could barely stand to his full height without wincing in pain

Cursing, he kicked the pavement beneath him, sending smaller bits of pavement flying. He's vulnerable, tiny, and weak, and far away from the battle he's supposed to be fighting, and he hates it

The worst thing is, it keeps happening to him. He isn't keeping score, it isn't his thing, but Jason's fairly sure that it's the fourth time this week. It's as if the universe likes seeing him suffer. Or, at least this particular magician does, and it's infuriating

Not that he could do much at this size, anyways, he's about as intimidating as a wet kitten. And now the best thing he can do is hunker down behind a crumbling brick wall until the battle passes. Irritating as it is.

Tim notices Jason's disappearance before any of the other Bats do. It's strange for the other vigilante to disappear without at least a “Fuck you” or some vulgar phrase along the lines of that

But he's gone without a trace, and that worries Tim. It shouldn't. Jason's a grown man and can handle himself. After all, he has half of Crime Alley scared shitless of him

Then again, the magician they were facing had eyed the Red Hood with a specific vitriol, and Tim had been too zoned in on deflecting attacks from henchmen that he'd barely clued in on the gunman's insult, and the resulting flash of of light that followed soon after

Right, the flash of light—Jason vanishing into thin air. It was a teleportation spell. Jason was who-knows-where in Gotham and without any back up

And Tim, against his better judgement, fell back into the shadows. Tension falling from his shoulders when he realized that whatever spell the magic user had cast hadn't fried Jason's tracker, the Red Hood sigil blinking softly on the holoscreen

Well, at least he was alive. That counted for something

Venting a sigh, Tim rolls his eyes and turns to the direction the tracker’s facing, following it to wherever Jason just so happened to land himself this time. He still didn’t get how the gun wielding vigilante’s mouth hadn’t been the end of him. Sure, being mouthy is integral to being a former Robin, but it was a curse—bound to land one of them in the hospital or in the grave

Not that Robins dying ever stuck, Jason was living proof of that

He shook his head

Focus, Drake.

The tracker beeps, twice, when Tim rounds a corner on the third street he’s traversed tonight, and he about startles when he hears Jason pipe up—voice a lot smaller than he remembers “Lovely. As if my night couldn’t get any worse. Of course you had to show up”

Then Tim looks down, and barely holds back the snort that pulls from the back of his throat. Jason’s helmet makes it difficult to discern the emotion he’s expressing beyond the angry glare it perpetually has, but he can tell Jason isn’t happy. Tim ignores the displeasure in his brother’s tone, biting back just as quick “You should be more grateful, y'know, I traveled half way across Gotham just to find your sorry ass”

Jason scoffs, folding his arms over his chest “Just get me outta here, replacement”

Tim smirks “You sure you're gonna be able to follow me on those little legs?”

The other man pointedly flips Tim the bird, which with his miniature stature, is adorable. Not that Tim would say it out loud, he's not looking to piss the gunslinger off any more than he already has

Which is an understatement, considering what he's about to do next

Because the rest of the Bats are miles away, and Tim refuses to get back to them on foot. And he knows grappling with Jason in his hands will end very badly.

He makes the decidedly unfortunate choice of lifting Jason's form to his mouth and the older vigilante doesn't get a word of protest out before Tim shoves him in his mouth—and nearly gags at the taste that washes over his taste buds. Metallic, soapy and salty assault them all at once—and Tim hates it. He doesn't know how Dick manages to do this without flinching

And Gods—Jason’s heftier form is new to him. He's larger than Steph when she's tiny. Tim's very aware that he's going to have a hard time getting Jason down. Jason, on cue, automatically proves his point by trying to kick his teeth in, roaring and swearing up a storm

Tim doesn't waste a second, tilting his head back and allowing gravity to push Jason head-first into his throat. He swallows once, twice, and then a third time to ease the burn in his throat from Jason's incessant writhing

Feeling Jason spill into his gut isn't pleasant, either, he weighs Tim down and stretches his poor belly out unnaturally. Evident by the way his abdomen swells out beneath the red-black kevlar of his suit

He's glad this is temporary—and the gurgle of complaint echoing from his middle tells him his stomach feels the same way

Jason's night had officially gotten worse, sure, the shrinking spell was bad, but this was the cherry on top. Drool caked him from head to toe and flesh compressed him from all sides—and he hated it.

He hated that he could feel his surroundings sway—like he was floating. Tim was grappling somewhere he was unable to make out beyond the walls of his confines

He's half tempted to ask Tim what the fuck is wrong with him, but his comm was fried during the magician's attack, and he knows Tim wouldn't hear him over the wind currents. So he settles on, albeit reluctantly, settling into the stomach walls. Admonishing himself for not wearing longer sleeves beneath his jacket when saliva clings to his forearms and elbows

On the other hand, Tim feels Jason sink into the lining of his stomach and nearly loses his grasp on the grappling hook mid swing. It's a weird sensation. Steph never feels like he's swallowed lead yet Jason somehow manages to

He doesn't focus on that for too long, though

He eventually lands on the rooftop of Wayne Manor and walks to the window that leads to his room. Unhatching the lock and slipping inside—nearly falling on his face when his body registers the fullness in his torso again

It jostles Jason, and he can tell by the sputtering, muffled vulgarity he hears spew from within, followed by the man struggling to readjust himself against slippery folds. Tim almost laughs, because admittedly, it's a little funny seeing the Red Hood stumble, any street credibility falling away then and there

Admittedly, he does feel a bit of pity for Jason and prods at him “You alright?”

Jason rights himself with a petulant scowl “I think I'd be better if you let me out”

Tim ignores the content, predatory side of his brain that tells him to keep Jason there longer, he knows his brother would be safe, warm even, and the heated weight Jason provides is appealing, but Tim knows better. Making his way over to the sink of his private bathroom and sticks two fingers into the back of his throat, until he feels his stomach churn and the lump that's Jason make his way back up his esophagus and into his jaws. And Tim doesn't take long to open his maw and allow Jason to roll into the palm of his gloves with a gross squelch. Drool dribbles from the side of his mouth before he shifts Jason to his other hand and wipes it off with the back of his palm

“What the fuck was that about, Tim?” Jason asks, a bit venomously, while Tim turns to grab one of the many soft, fluffy towels Alfred consistently supplied them with with his free hand, and works at getting the slimy drool stuck to Jason off of the smaller man

“Improvisation.” Tim answers simply, and once he's satisfied with the lack of slime on Jason's form, he exits the bathroom, and sets Jason on the bed. Flopping down a few inches beside him and closing his eyes “By the way, you're on your own fixing that” he adds, gesturing to Jason “I think I've had my fill of you and magic for the rest of the week”

“Fine. But you're carrying me to dinner”

“...Deal.”