#my friends server beating me with a bat whenever I make a typo and it becomes funny

[elyreywrites]

hips don’t lie (shakira shakira)

a crack fic born of a typo, and enabled by discord (shout out to the C&C discord server!! y’all are amazing.) also, it was a motivational gift for a friend. and a huge thanks to Bumpkin for being my beta on this fic!

title from Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie”.

please REBLOG -- DO NOT REPOST

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Teen 1,895 words Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne part of my batkids shenanigans series

Summary:

Tim breaks a hip. Dick and Jason fight for the right of sitting shotgun. Barbara is the Actual Best. And Bruce is Suffering.

- - - - -

Tim leaned back against the wall in his cell and waited. He certainly wasn’t going to escape at the moment – not after some goon had slammed a metal bat into his hip. Standing wasn’t going to happen, much less fighting. As it was, Tim could block out the pain while sitting down and not moving. He’d dragged his body out of the desert after he was stabbed in the spleen, he could ignore this pain.

The sound of shattering glass and indistinct yelling brought a grin to his face. Ah, his rescue had arrived. Who did they send this time? The gunfire that broke out could mean Jason, or the goons had guns. Maybe both. The only guarantee was that it wasn’t Damian. He had a final paper due in the morning for school and Bruce ordered him off patrol.

The commotion lasted all of ten minutes. After another couple of minutes, something banged on the other side of the door.

“Hey Red, yell if you’re in here,” called Dick. After a second, he squawked, “What was that for?”

“He might be unconscious and can’t fucking answer,” Jason snarked.

Huh, both of them to the rescue. “I’m conscious,” he yelled. The lock clicked and his two older brothers strolled in, the keys dangling from the lock.

“Oh good,” Jason drawled, “then you can explain why the fuck you didn’t escape on your own.” He tossed Tim an extra comm, which he immediately put in.

Tim hummed. “I mean, it might have something to do with the metal bat that some asshole caught me in the hip with.”

Both men paused, just as Bruce appeared in the doorway. Tim knew his eyebrow was raised expectantly under the cowl. Tim looked straight at him and said, “I’m not very hip.”

In the background, Dick started snickering as Jason choked on his laughter. Bruce, though – Bruce went still. Bat still – the kind he only got in two situations. One, if he was about to drop into a fight. Two, when one of his kids made an exceptionally bad joke. The second often came before the Heavy Sigh of Exasperated Dad. “Your hip is injured,” he inferred, returning to the matter at hand. “What else can you tell us about the injury?”

Smirking, he complained, “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

The snickering turned into near-hysterical giggles. Jason was wheezing under the helmet. And there was the Heavy Sigh of Exasperated Dad.

“Someone call Life Alert!” Dick gasped out through his giggling.

“Fucking hell, kid,” Jason managed. “You little fucking shit. We were worried about your goddamn ass, and here you are, making shitty jokes like you’re Nightwing.”

“Hey!”

Bruce shook his head. “Your hip might be broken. Let’s–”

Dick cut off their father. “That’s so sad,” he choked out past his widening grin, “Oracle, play ‘Hips Don’t Lie’.”

Bruce froze. Tim watched with glee as Jason sunk to the floor, his wheezing turning into the high-pitched keening of someone laughing without air. And then – because Babs was the Actual Best – the song started playing over the comm line.

Ah, there it was: the second Heavy Sigh of Exasperated Dad, almost entirely drowned out by Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie”.

“Why,” he asked, long-suffering. “Why do you do this to me? Just… you two, get to the Batmobile. I'll get Red.”

Tim raised an eyebrow behind the mask. “You’re the one that chose to be a father. Really, you should have expected this.”

Bruce tilts his head, his own equivalent of a raised eyebrow when he’s in the cowl. “Oh, I’m supposed to expect my children to reference memes and make jokes when one has broken a hip. That’s what I was supposed to be prepared for, when I decided to take in a grieving child. The parenting books never warned me about that.” He leaned down and tried to carefully pick Tim up, as Tim gritted his teeth against the pain. In the background, “Hips Don’t Lie” faded away.

Over the comm, Jason scoffed. “As if you ever read any parenting books.”

“I know for a fact that you didn’t,” Dick added. “Agent A made enough pointed comments about it that I know you didn’t. Also, I call shotgun.”

“You can have shotgun over my cold, dead body, you dick!” Jason snapped.

“First of all, stop joking about your death! Second of all, fuck you, you know the rules! Hood, get back here! I fucking called shotgun as soon as the Batmobile was in view, respect the fucking rules!”

“You’ll have to drag me out!”

“Red Robin gets shotgun,” Batman cut in.

Tim looked at Bruce blankly. “One, Red Robin is staying out of this, as one of them has already tried to kill me before. Two, Red Robin has a broken hip and needs to be in the backseat, because there is no way in hell I can sit upright very well right now.”

“For shame, B,” Dick sighed. “Hood, I swear to fucking god, get the fuck out of shotgun! Batmaaaaan, Hood isn’t following the ruuuules!”

Tim felt the Heavy Sigh that time. Damn, three in one night? They were doing pretty well. “That’s not really anything new, though, is it?” Tim snarked.

“You wanna fuckin’ go, punk?” Jason called back.

Closer now, Tim could see as Dick shook his head in over-dramatic disappointment. “I can’t believe you, Hood. Breaking the Sacred Rules of Calling Shotgun. Threatening to fight a kid with a broken hip. What would Agent A say?”

“Oh shit.” Tim whispered, grinning, “you’re gonna be in trouble.”

Jason growled back over the line, apparently kicking out at Dick from his spot in shotgun. “Fuck you, I’m an adult!”

Someone hummed on the comm line. “Would you care to repeat that?” Alfred said, as calmly as ever.

At the same time, Dick grabbed Jason’s leg to pull him from the Batmobile. Both things caused Jason to squawk as he landed on his ass on the ground. “No, Agent A. Sorry, Agent A. Hey, that is not fair, I got there first! I have longer legs, and you’re gonna stick me in the back?!”

Bruce stopped for a second, watching the chaos of Dick trying to get into the passenger seat by climbing over Jason, who was still laying on the ground, while Jason kept grabbing his legs and pulling him back out. Tim watched Bruce, waiting. Wondering.

Bruce inhaled and–

Jason and Dick both froze as they heard the fourth Heavy Sigh of the night.

“Is… is that a record?” Jason asked, in a reverent whisper.

“I don’t know,” Dick replied, just as awed.

Tim smirked. “Robin and I have managed seven in one night.”

“What?!” Dick shrieked.

“How?!”

Bruce only looked tiredly upon his eldest sons. “Robin and Red Robin,” he said, as though that was enough explanation. Tim had to admit, it kind of was. No need to mention that it was only for show now, more for the purpose of antagonizing their family than anything else. Cass knew, because Cass always knew, but she only giggled whenever she witnessed their fights.

Jason and Dick stared at each other, Dick’s leg still caught in Jason’s grasp. “We can probably get at least five before we get back to the Cave,” Dick muttered lowly, as though the comm wasn’t picking up everything he said.

“Done,” Jason said. “But I still got here first so stop trying to claim shotgun.”

“Hmmm, nope. I called it as soon as the Batmobile was in view. Them’s the rules, little brother.”

Jason snarled. “I’m taller than you! I need the extra leg space more!”

“You are barely taller than me, and not enough to really matter for leg space.”

Batman carefully put Tim down so he was stretched out along the length of the backseat and climbed in the driver's seat. “How is it,” he began, “that Red Robin, your younger brother, is acting more mature than both of you.”

Jason and Dick both stared at Bruce in utter betrayal. Then Jason looked back at Dick. “Go share the backseat with Red, you’re the oldest. He’s in pain. He needs his big brother to tell him it’s okay.”

“God no,” Tim muttered. He did not want Dick’s smothering right now.

Dick gasped, head snapping to stare at Tim. “Holy shit, I didn’t even think about that! Red, does it hurt a lot? You need a hug.”

Plans for revenge were already forming in Tim’s mind as Dick climbed in the backseat with him, letting Tim lean back against him. Dick’s arms wrapped around Tim in what some considered a hug and others considered an inescapable hold. A hand was already carding through his hair and his oldest brother reassured him that they’d be back at the Cave soon. Jason was snickering from the passenger seat.

Dick needed a distraction.

“Hey, O?” Tim asked, “Can you connect to the Batmobile? You probably already know what I’m thinking.”

“Sure thing Red,” Barbara smirked. He knew she did – he could hear it. Through the speakers in the car, “Hips Don’t Lie” started playing, again.

Tim didn’t miss Bruce’s hands tightening on the steering wheel, probably refraining from sighing again. Of course, now that he knew they were actively trying to antagonize him, it was going to be a lot harder.

As Tim expected, with Shakira blaring out of the speakers, Dick and Jason joined in on the singing. Loudly and off-key. A grin stretched across his face. Normally, he’d join in, but the pain was a bit too much for him to do that. That was fine, Bruce was getting twitchy enough as it was.

There was still no sigh yet, though. No matter how terribly Dick and Jason sang along, even going so far as to be off-beat, Bruce only twitched. At least, until the Spanish came.

“You know Spanish,” Bruce whispered, pained, as Jason sang English words that sounded just similar enough. Dick was doing the same, but without coordination, they were singing different words, creating the sound of pure chaos. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“You only have yourself to blame,” Tim snickered.

The fifth Heavy Sigh of Exasperated Dad cut the awful singing off so Dick and Jason could scream their victory. Tim regretted nothing as he slammed his head back into Dick’s chin.

“Ow! Reeed, whyyyy?” Dick whined, leaning his head back away from Tim.

Tim would have twisted around to glare at him if that didn’t seem like a Bad Plan. “You yelled in my fucking ear! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“We’re here,” Bruce called desperately, dragging himself out of the car. “Please, boys, please. Just… stop. It’s been a long night. Take pity on your old man.”

“Eh, I’m gonna go the fuck to sleep anyway,” Jason shrugged as he climbed out. “We succeeded in our goal. Have fun with the broken hip, Timmers! Night!” Tim watched him go, incredulous. A broken hip wasn’t what he’d call “fun” – despite the jokes and references that could be made.

Dick helped Bruce get him out of the car, and then smirked. “Your new ringtone is ‘Hips Don’t Lie’, just so you know. Night, Timmy!”

Tim watched his brothers leave, beginning to twitch himself. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“You’ll never be hip again,” deadpanned Bruce.