#(he said while methodically gutting two people vaguely mentioning hurting Bruce)

[ghost-bxrd]

For "your court of owls batfam" au , how would Bruce react if Cobb ever got seriously hurt to the point of maybe having to be replaced? Also how do Dick and Jason feel about Cobb? Do they get along or is it strictly professional?

MWAHAHA I GOT ONE PERSON INTERESTED IN THIS AU ALREADY! *cheers*

Okay so Talon lore is that very little can keep a Talon down permanently. They can even regrow limbs if given enough time! So that’s neat. But basically replacing Talons isn’t a practice often exercised.

I know the Court canonically tried getting rid of Cobb in the Court of Owls saga because he got defeated by Batman and they didn’t think he’d “recover from the shame of being so thoroughly deafeated”.

It therefore stands to reason that he’s aware that he’s easily replaceable (there is always more than one Talon at any given time, although stored away in cryo usually) if he doesn’t perform to the Court’s expectations. Cobb is the best, been the best, Talon for over a century (?) now, but that means nothing if he fails to fulfill his missions.

So let’s say Cobb gets heavily injured by something that shouldn’t have been much of a challenge for a Talon. Let’s say his inattention/hubris/whatever nearly gets Bruce killed—-

That would be scandalous.

For one, his injuries will take several weeks to heal. Weeks in which the Voice will be virtually defenseless without their Talon. This is unacceptable.

And Two, some regular two bit criminals should have never been able to best a Talon in such a way. It’s a disgrace to the Court.

No, no, a new Talon must take Cobb’s place now. He has become obsolete. His services have been appreciated, but, “oh, you understand dear Talon, don’t you? The weak must be culled from the flock”.

And Cobb understands. He does. He’d thought- he thought he’d have more time, though. Time to convince Bruce to let him train the boy after all, to make sure his Voice is protected even after Cobb is gone. That the Court’s machinations will not see Bruce dead before the year is done because the new Talon will not know that Bruce is the best thing to have happened to the Court in a century. They will end up killing Bruce, killing Dick— (he shouldn’t care- he doesn’t care. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t-)

But then Bruce storms into the labs like the onset of a hurricane, all righteous fury and indignation, Dick hot on his heels (wide eyed and still too little with not enough training to hold out against the new Talon long enough to at least escape) demanding what the fuck is going on and why his Talon isn’t back by his side yet.

And he doesn’t accept the scientists’ reasonings that Cobb has done his duty; has become “outdated”. Doesn’t accept the reassurances of the “new one” being just as good— no, better, than the previous one. Doesn’t accept that a new Talon is supposed to protect him now. (“Him or none,” Bruce says, tone colder than the permafrost of the arctic, and at his side Dick’s eyes flash with unvoiced threat. “Now get out of my way.”)

As to the relationship between Cobb and the kids, well. His and Dick’s relationship is tense at first. Cobb has no interest being anything of a family to him despite their blood relations. He only sees Dick as a potential new (and perfect) Talon that could keep Bruce safe if he himself is deemed “outdated”. He’s not happy about all the potential “going to waste” by Dick being made Bruce’s ward, being allowed to live a sort of normal life. But once Dick approaches him for some training in physical combat… well. Sorry, Cobb tried. He really did. But Dick Grayson invented charisma, and even Cobb isn’t immune. He grudgingly starts liking the kid but will deny that until he’s blue in the face. Dick ends up being the Gray Son of Gotham, the highest ranking court member after Bruce with the training of a Talon.

With Jason it’s more straight forward. At first Cobb is pissed at Bruce for taking in a “street rat” and intending to adopt him, but… well, Jason grows on him “like fungus” (a direct quote). At first Cobb doesn’t really know what to make of Jason. The kid is loud and aggressive, but shrinks away like a wilting flower at the first signs of someone raising their voice. (He’s soft, Cobb thinks. The Court will eat him alive.)

But Jason’s also got a spine of steel as he clearly demonstrates when he jumps Cobb with a knife after an unfortunate misunderstanding where he assumed Bruce was in danger of him, and that kind of loyalty at least he can work with. (The kid’s still soft inside as all get out, but he’s excellent at covering it up with violence and bravado, and his charm is that he’s honest in a way so utterly foreign to the Court that it endears him to all the trustworthy members within a few months).

Jason becomes The Heart of the Court, the morality that Bruce was starting to have trouble clinging to; keeping them all on the right path towards a better future. A better Gotham.

(Cobb absolutely loves the children as much as Bruce does. It just takes him a bit longer to get there. And Jason is his favorite sorry I don’t make the rules. COUGH.)

[vikingpoteto]

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 4 on AO3

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Relationships:  (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all. 

________________________

 When Tim walks out of the crappy motel room, the sun is already up. He curses inwardly, guessing it must be past eight in the morning at least. He hadn’t meant to stay up all night, but that’s what happens more often than not. He remembers reading somewhere online that ADHD people have a different sleeping cycle, something about working better when sleeping from 2am to 10am or something. He didn’t read the full article because it didn’t seem that relevant at the time. 

Alas. Since he’s up, he might as well get himself some breakfast. He walks to the vending machine he was planning on visiting anyway. He blinks his blurry eyes trying to see the options in front of him. He considers buying just an energy drink and calling it a day, but he doesn’t think his empty stomach will appreciate that course of action.

“The fuck? You’re still here?”

Tim turns around. Jason is in front of his own room, only half wearing his leather jacket.

“I’m a paying customer?” Tim says. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question. God, he’s sleepy. 

“I thought you’d be back in Gotham by now,” Jason says.

Tim frowns at him. “Where would I go?”

Jason considers that for a while. Usually, Tim would be bothered by being scanned like that, but he can’t find in himself to care or to try and figure what Jason might be thinking right now. Finally, the older boy sighs.

“You got breakfast yet?”

Tim gestures vaguely at the vending machine full of snacks. 

Jason stares, his expression empty. Then he rolls his eyes, grabs Tim by the collar and starts dragging him as though he’s a sack of potatoes. It’s a testament to how tired Tim really is that he stumbles and barely manages a noise of protest.

“Jason,” he whines, the tone in his voice catching even himself by surprise. 

A couple gives them a judgemental glance as they cross the street. Tim wonders what they look like to strangers. Tim’s clothes, while a lot more expensive than Jason’s, are battered and faded from his misadventures. His painfully pale skin doesn’t match Jason’s dark tan at all, even with all the freckles he got from having fun with assassins in the desert. Still, to a passerby, Tim’s juvenile tone and pathetic attempts to slap Jason’s hand away should make them look like bickering friends. In spite of Jason’s size, his young face still betrays his real age. They could pass as…

Tim straightens himself in a swift movement. Whether he’s finally successful in his attempt to free himself or Jason notices his tension and lets him go, is up for debate. He shakes his head and pretends that no stupid thought almost crossed his mind.

“What are you doing?” Tim complains.

Jason points at the building in front of them — an old diner — and walks in, expecting Tim to follow. He does. 

A tired looking waitress squints at them as though she’s expecting trouble for whatever reason. Tim doesn’t know why, he’s sure they look perfectly innocent as they find themselves a place to sit. They make a beeline towards a table in a discreet corner, partially hidden behind a nook of the wall. The spot allows them to see almost all the other patrons without being too visible. Tim notes, but doesn’t comment on the fact that both of them chose that spot seemingly at the same time.

When they sit across one another, however, Tim has a weird feeling in his gut. Maybe it’s the sleepless night, but he has a hard time not thinking about the last time he sat across Jason like this: the older boy had been in jail and Tim’s stupid plan to get him out resulted in… well.

Babs used to say Tim talked a lot or didn’t talk at all, and she had been the first person to realize that the former meant Tim wasn’t thinking and the latter meant he was thinking too much. Tim does what he does best when he’s nervous or uncomfortable: he starts talking. A terrible mistake in retrospect, really. 

“Are you buying me breakfast?” he asks.

Jason glares at him. “You’re richer than I am. Buy your own food.”

“Not really. Plus you dragged me here.”

“You said you were a paying customer.”

“Yeah, at the hotel. Credit cards are hackable and Babs taught me a thing or two in case I ever found myself in a tight spot, which I definitely am right now.” Tim points at the ‘cash only’ sign behind the counter. “The pocket change I have is cool for a vending machine, but a diner is fancier than what I’m ready for.”

Jason groans and rolls his eyes. Tim thinks that the closest thing he’ll get from a yes, so he takes it. 

Without talking about it and even though they’re not talking about anything too secretive, they go silent when the waitress walks towards their table. Rather than greeting them, she shows her little notepad and arches an eyebrow at them. Tim is loving the service already, it’s doing great things to his nerves.

“Coffee. Black,” he says. 

She turns to Jason, but he’s still looking at Tim as though waiting for him to say something else. When Tim simply gives him a quizzical look, Jason appears annoyed.

“What do you mean black coffee?” Jason says. “You’re making me pay for your food and you’re not even ordering actual food?”

“Uh… I’m fine? I don’t eat much this early, it makes me nauseous.”

“Jesus Christ, kid. We gonna have your largest order of pancakes for this stupid child.”

Tim kicks him under the table.

“Little shit,” Jason hisses.

And Tim almost falls over when he pushes his chair to avoid being kicked back.

“Cut it out, Jason!”

While their feet battle under the table, the waitress rolls her eyes and walks away. Tim really wishes he could give this place a five star review.

When Jason’s sole finally connects to Tim’s chair and he has to hold onto the table to avoid toppling over, he groans:

“Truce.”

“Nah. You lost.”

Tim stares.

“Admit you lost and I stop.”

“Fine, you oversized baby, I lost!”

Jason smiles. It’s stupid to get so worked up at such a small thing, not to mention how extremely out of place it feels after his little vacation with the League. Still, Tim can’t help but think this is the first time he’s seen Jason look so satisfied. Annoyingly smug, sure, but satisfied.

Silence stretches. Jason grabs a napkin from the table and starts methodically tearing it apart for no apparent reason. Tim wishes he thought of doing something like that, because his hands are itching to do something. It’d look dumb if he started doing the same thing as Jason, wouldn’t it?

“I thought you were rich,” Jason says, startling Tim. 

He shakes his head, reprimanding himself for spacing out. “What?”

“I get not using your own credit card so you can’t be tracked,” Jason says, “but you’re so obsessed with planning everything. I kinda expected you to have a secret stash of money somewhere.”

Tim frowns. “What, you think I just stole Bruce’s money before leaving?”

Now that Jason mentions it, that would’ve been smarter. It’s not like Dick would miss it, and money would’ve left less of a trail than the fake credit cards he’d been using. Maybe Ra’s wouldn’t have found him if… He’s spacing out again. Jason is speaking. Crap.

“... your other father?” 

He needs a few blinks to realize what Jason means. “My dad lost everything before he died. You didn’t know?” 

“Wait, so what are you going to do when you go back to Gotham? Go back to the manor?”

Tim frowns. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“He’d take you back.”

At that, Tim gives him a pointed look. Jason realizes his misstep.

“Don’t,” he grits out. “Don’t you dare say it. We’re not the same by any means.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tim says simply.

He never does. Ever since he reached that weird truce with Jason, Tim only said it once. He said that Jason should go back; Jason told him to fuck off. Tim said that Bruce wanted him back and Dick missed him; Jason told him to be quiet. Tim told him that Alfred wanted to see him; Jason stormed off. 

Since then, in the very few times they’ve met and talked like semi-civilized people, Tim never brought up Jason going home again. Jason seems to firmly believe that he’ll never be forgiven. Tim knows that he’s the last person Jason wants to talk about family, and it’s not like he has any arguments that could change his mind, so Tim keeps quiet. It works, unless one of them (usually Jason) is trying to kill the other (Tim). Even now, after the whole clusterfucker before Tim’s trip - had it really happened a few weeks ago? - there is no doubt in his mind that Dick and Alfred would take Jason back with open arms, more than willing to work on their issues. Perhaps Dick would still be a bit upset about Jason shooting Damian, but hey, the kid barely stayed down for a day.

As it is now, neither of them are planning to go back. Once more, the question looms over them. Why would Tim make the same mistake again? What was that fancy quote about insanity? Something about doing the same thing and expecting a miracle or whatever. Tim hopes Jason won’t ask.

But then again, if Jason asks Tim why he wants to stay, he’ll have to explain why he’s accepting it, and Tim doesn’t think he’s too keen on that.

The waitress comes back with their food. Tim twists his nose at the pile of pancakes in front of him. Jason threateningly points a fork at him until he sighs and starts eating. 

“We’re taking off after I’m done eating, so get to chewing, Replacement.”

Tim feels a smile stretching his lips. “We?”

“Don’t be a smartass. If I regret this, I’ll dump your ass in the middle of the road.”

“Can’t do, boss. It’s part of Robin’s job to call you out on your shit.”

“But you’re not Robin anymore, are you?”

That wipes Tim’s smile off pretty fast. He has to keep reminding himself that Jason can be as much of an asshole as Tim can, if not worse. He resumes eating in silence, pretending he’s too mature to be bothered by Jason’s stupid smug face. 

Never mind that he has to grit his teeth to hold back at least three different smart retorts. He doesn’t want to risk Jason giving up on him out of spite and the son of a bitch knows it. 

Tim takes his sweet time poking at his pancakes and sipping his coffee, hoping that Jason will be done first and they’ll leave. When Jason realizes what he’s doing, he starts barking out threats and insults until Tim is kicking him again. 

They don’t stop fighting until Tim’s plate is empty and his stomach is filled to the brim. 

The waitress looks unreasonably relieved when Jason throws a couple of crumpled bills at the counter and they turn to leave. Tim didn’t think they made a fuss big enough to warrant that reaction. But, then again, maybe they just look like trouble makers. 

“We’re going back to Gotham?” Tim asks.

“What do you think, genius?” Jason rolls his eyes. “God, my territory must be a mess by now.”

“No one told you to fall from that height, dude, I’m surprised you’re not out of commission for longer,” Tim says.

“Replacement, I swear to God…”

“Just sayin’,” and his mocking smile is back. “We’re going to one of your infamous safehouses?”

“Hm.”

“The one in Burnley? Or the one behind Crime Alley? Or…”

Jason stops walking. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No one likes a smartass, Tim.”

“Jokes on you, no one likes me anyway.” Tim grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure Dick doesn’t know about the Burnley one.”

“Guess that’s where we’re going then,” Jason huffs. “Can’t have them breathin’ on my neck while I get my stuff together. Can’t believe I have a fucking kid now.”

“You’re only two years older than me, Jason. Less, if we consider you were dead for a couple months.”

Jason ignores that. “You better not go running to them, Replacement. You’re on your trial run. You fuck this up, you not gonna like the consequences.” 

Tim rolls his eyes, but says nothing. Jason will find out soon enough how good he is at keeping secrets.

They grab their things at the hotel, not that Tim has a lot of luggage. Jason grabs a motorcycle that definitely isn’t his. Tim doesn’t comment on it, because the one he’s currently riding was paid with money that wasn’t his either. 

They hit the road, and the sleepless night and the breakfast still threatening to come back don’t bother Tim as much, because he feels like he’s finally moving again. Finally has a sense of purpose again. 

 Tim didn’t expect to live with Jason. He thought he’d look around his place, help him set up a functional computer system - how Jason survived alone for so long with the tech he had was beyond Tim - and then he’d leave to figure out what to do. His credit card fraud system wouldn’t work as well in Gotham, at least not if Barbara was in town, but he was willing to figure it out. 

The fact that he came this far without a plan told him that his month with the assassins had thrown him off his game. He’d grown used to winging it because the last weeks had been so unfairly unpredictable, but he has to go back to his old modus operandi as soon as possible.

Or at least that’s what he thought, until he emerged from the secret Red Hood bunker downstairs and Jason casually told him to take the vacant room upstairs.

That solved a lot of logistic issues, so Tim forces his mouth shut and heads upstairs. 

If you forget about the heavy arsenal in the secret basement (a secret that Tim will spend the whole weekend tinkering because holy shit, his childhood bedroom was more secure)  the house is almost… normal. Like an abandoned  middle class house. There are boards on the windows and signs that it should’ve been demolished at some point. Other than that, Jason had made the place a functional home. It’s a bit sparse in the furniture department and not unlike the hotel room Tim found Jason in: mismatched pieces, old wood and dust everywhere. There are marks on the wallpaper where pictures had presumably hung once, but that was probably before Jason took over the place. 

It occurs to Tim that he’s probably going to be on cleaning duty, which is a bit worrisome. As much as he’s okay with less than hospitable places, he’s never had to clean. Ever. He hopes there’s a YouTube tutorial on it. 

His new room clearly belonged to a very feminine person at some point, and all they left behind was an old bed with no sheets, a beaten dresser and marks on the pink walls where posters had probably been. Tears in the wallpaper hint they were carelessly ripped off. Tim carefully removes the mirror from the dresser and puts it out of sight before dumping his duffel bag near the bed. Home, sweet home.

Someone clears his throat by the door. 

Leaning against the frame as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself, Jason crosses and uncrosses his arms.

“I’m going on patrol in a bit. Gotta assess the situation.”

Tim nods and waits. This would usually be the time Bruce gave them instructions for  the night. Jason shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Whether he’s deliberately trying to be less like Bruce - which is futile, since Bruce is the only reference he has - or he simply doesn’t know how to handle a sidekick… Tim takes pity on him and says:

“I’ll be ready to join you in five.”

Jason aqcuiesces stiffly. Then heads down the hallway. Tim swears he hears Jason mumbling to himself as he leaves, which would be amusing if he wasn’t feeling just as awkward. 

He grabs the light chainmail armor from his bag and puts it on. The black, sleek outfit that follows still feels uncomfortable and foreign, but Tim supposes it will have to do. He hesitates before pulling on the black hood and even more before reaching for the Spoiler-like mask that will only cover the lower half of his face. Finally, he discards the piece of fabric to a corner. Associating the thing with Steph does the opposite of making him feel better about it. He’ll have to ask Jason if he has a spare domino mask he can borrow. 

He heads downstairs just as Jason is emerging from the kitchen in almost full Red Hood gear, his helmet under his arm. He tries to ignore the tug at his stomach when he sees it. Judging by Jason’s expression, he was thinking something similar.

“What the fuck are you wearing, Replacement?”

“Discreet clothes for an undercover mission. What are you wearing?” Tim tries to play it off as nothing, but, judging by Jason’s expression, he’s failing. “Look, I didn’t have Robin anymore, okay? I had to wear something and this is what Ra’s gave me.”

“Yeah, I’m not going out with a mini-League of Assassins recrutee.”

Tim wishes he had a logical argument against that. He thinks there is one, but the sleepless night is finally getting to him and he can’t think straight. “Well, damn, Jason, what do you expect me to do? Go out in civies? Not all of us can pull off the leather jacket.”

The older boy considers him for a moment, and an irrational part of Tim’s brain keeps him frozen on the spot. This is it. This is when he realizes this has been a mistake, and me thinking he’s like me was a gross miscalculation. He’s going to send me away. He’s going to tell me to go away.

“Stay here,” Jason says. “Now that I think about it, if I go alone there’s less of a chance of them finding out I’m back.”

Tim is panicking, but not hard enough that he misses the opportunity to quip: “I’m not the one with a bright red helmet.”

“Shut it. Do digital detective work while I’m gone. Can you find out what happened in my territory for the past month without bringing Oracle down my ass?”

“Of course I can. What do you think I am?”

“Inferior to Barbara.”

“Bitch…!” Tim pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Okay, fair, I am. But she isn’t actively looking for me and I know her M.O.”

Jason nods. “Then do your thing. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Tim watches him head to the door. So he isn’t fired again, which is good.

“Jason?” He calls, because apparently he can’t take a win and keep his damn mouth shut. “I’m not going to stay indoors. I’m not the computer guy. I’m in this to fight crime and I didn’t look for you to stay back because you don’t like my fashion choices.”

Jason looks absolutely disgusted  at that. “The problem with smart people like you is that you keep thinking everyone else is a fucking idiot. I’m not. And you know that, since you chose to come after me.”

Tim could tell him Jason offered first. That would lead to a childish back-and-forth until accusing the other of starting wouldn’t be enough and they would have a fist fight on top of the ratty couch. Considering the thing looks like it’s about to collapse under the mildest gust of wind, Tim wisely stays quiet for once in his life. 

He turns around and heads to the kitchen, to the secret entrance that leads to the secret basement. He hears when Jason leaves. He’s still pouting when he boots the stupid computer in serious need of an update.

He’s going to hate this. 

 Tim hates that he enjoys himself. 

It’s been quite a long time since he worked in such a simple case. He’d forgotten how enjoyable it is to work on a puzzle and watch the pieces fall together with ease. Like skating for fun after spending months practicing complicated maneuvers. He doesn’t see time going by as he takes notes and prints info, compiling a thorough report on everything Jason missed, up to some cold trails from when he was in Blackgate.  

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. 

At least not until he wakes up and immediately lets out an unholy screech because his bed vanishes under him. Except he isn’t on his bed, he’s spinning around on the computer chair and he scrambles to stay on the seat before the chair finally hits the wall and stops.

After the shock is gone, he looks up and finds a rather smug Red Hood smirking at him from across the room.

“What the… Did you seriously kick my chair?” Tim gasps.

“My chair,” Jason corrects. “That I let you borrow in exchange for work. Slacking on the service on the first day?”

Tim shoots up. “I was not! Fuck you!”

Jason blinks, his eyes widening. “Easy there. And I’m the one with anger issues.”

“I gathered everything that there is to find from the past month,” he protests, frantic and irritated all at the same time. “Sure, I didn’t finish the time you were locked up, but that’s because your internet is fucking slow. Give me until morning and I-”

Strong hands grab his wrists and Tim looks up. Jason’s expression is so oddly telling that Tim thinks he’s trying to manipulate him somehow. His brows are knitted together and his warm brown eyes are still mildly wide. Enough that Tim can see the specks of green in the dark iris, a reminder of Jason’s dip in the Lazarus Pit. He tries to come up with an explanation, because Jason has no reason to make Tim think he’s worried about him.

“The fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t expect you to be done before I got home. And I didn’t expect you to get info about the time I was in jail either.”

Tim is confused. He misinterpreted his mess up? “You didn’t want me to know what was going on before? That’s counterproductive. Plus a lot of this isn’t new information, I was monitoring…”

“Tim,” Jason cuts him off again. 

It’s weird that he says Tim and not Robin. It’s correct, because Tim isn’t Robin anymore, but this is Robin time regardless. Tim feels as though he’s back at the cave and he’s 13 years old. This time he doesn’t have Dick’s hesitant encouragement or Alfred’s worried glances, but it feels too similar to being around a grief-stricken man, broken almost beyond repair. That man is his boss and, in order to earn his stay, Tim has to succeed.

Except next time Jason speaks, he doesn’t sound like Bruce. Not like Bruce after he started healing. Definitely not like Bruce sounded when he first met Tim. He sounds - and that’s extremely weird - like Cassie when she found Tim pulling an all-nighter reviewing the case files. It was right after they got their team approved and could take over Titans Tower. Tim had to make sure everything was running smoothly, but Cassie thought not sleeping after sparring all-day was a bad call. She had been absolutely bewildered by the concept, for some reason.

It’s ridiculous that Red Hood reminds him of Wonder Girl.

“I don’t fucking care that you checked old news,” Jason says. “I’m just surprised you’re done already.” 

Tim’s brow furrows and he reviews the night, again trying to assess his mistake. “You said I was supposed to do digital work while you were on patrol,” he repeats slowly, almost to himself. 

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, letting go of his wrists. “I thought you were gonna collect some info and go to bed. Continue tomorrow.”

Tim gives in and straight up asks: “And you’re angry because…?”

“I’m not?” Jason is the one looking confused now. “You think me kicking your chair was me being angry? I was just being a jerk. I didn’t think you were that sensitive.”

Oh. Tim feels his cheeks warming. “I-I’m not! That is, I don’t care that you kicked the chair and sent me careening across the room while I was asleep.” There’s a beat. “Wait, no, I do care about that, what the hell, Jason?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’m gonna make it up to you. Don’t get used to it, though. Just come here and take a look.” 

Tim notices a bundle of what looks like fabric on the computer desk. It definitely wasn’t there before he dozed off. His confusion peaks when he notices it isn’t simply fabric… it’s leather and kevlar and a freaking cowl connected to a cape and…

“You stole Dr. Mid-Nite’s suit?” Tim asks.

“Wha- No, dumbass! It’s my suit! My old suit, anyway.”

Tim takes it and holds it in front of him. It’s a bit heavier than his old Robin suit, but it looks more resistant, if not as much malleable. 

“From the time you went to a different dimension,” Tim gasps.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Jason asks, bewildered again. 

Tim turns to him. “Why do you have this?”

Jason shrugs. “I grew out of it. Figured you could have it. You’re a bit taller than I was then, and skinnier too, but nothing you can’t work around. Beats making a whole new suit from scratch.”

Words fail him and he simply stares at the suit, unresponsive. 

“If you don’t like it, deal with it,” Jason says, suddenly less blase. It’s almost as though he’s nervous. “Or make a new suit, I don’t care. Just don’t go out in that stupid ninja suit.”

“R.R.” Tim mutters, his voice hollow. “What does R.R. stands for?”

It’s Jason’s turn to hesitate. Silent stretches for a little before he blurts: “Red Robin.”

“Huh.” Tim says, eloquent as ever. “What’s with all the red? I thought your favorite color was green.”

“How do you-” Jason sighs. “Whatever. Grab your shit and get the hell out of here.”

Tim whips around, alarmed again. “Why?”

“Because I wanna fucking change,” he gestures at his clothes, “and it’s weird to do it with your scrawny ass down here. This ain’t the Batcave, I only got one room.”

Oh. That sort of “leaving”. That makes more sense. “Right. I’m gonna go… uh... “ Where, again?

“To bed,” Jason snaps. “You’re gonna sleep on an actual bed instead of drooling all over my keyboard. Scram.”

Nodding jerkily, Tim obeys. The suit he holds tightly against his chest feels heavy and not because of all the body armor hidden within layers of leather.