#Jason falls for the man trying to make Crime Alley less terrible.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hello ❤️

Can you please write something about Jason x Danny? Maybe something about Jason having a crush on this new guy (maybe Danny works in a library or helping people as a nurse) and just falling cause Danny is sincerely nice and isn't afraid of his Lazarus's rage

Jason first notices the new face volunteering at the soup kitchen when the guy hand-makes flour tortillas for the beans. Just like his mom used to make, alongside Mrs. Huerea before she got into drugs.

It's been years since he last had some, not because Alfred refuses to make it but because the butler never has the time.

It's usually a treat for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, or his birthday. Sometimes if Jason is lucky, there is another important holiday for the many members of Wayne Manor, and there is time for Alfred to get them done. He can have them more.

But mostly, Alfred had them store-bought.

That's why he wanders to the other man's line, mouth already watering as the volunteer piles smashed beans with cheese and tortillas onto plates. A name tag has a simple "Danny" on top of a white NASA shirt coupled with slightly baggy pants is the whole outfit of the stranger - odd in Gotham's winter time.

He offers Jason a smile, then, with a wink, places two more fresh tortillas on his plate.

Before he can say anything, Danny pushes the plate toward him. "I can tell you're a man who appreciates fine food. Take them. I can always make more. "

He jerks a thumb to the back, where a press awaits use. It looks just like Mrs. Huerea's iron-clad tool that, for a second, he's six again, early happy the women preparing for Christmas.

When his mother was sober, the Huereas had always opened their home to them. The elderly couple had always felt like grandparents to him.

"Thanks," He says around a forming grin. It matches Danny's.

Jason accepts the food with an excited thrill; for once, the memories of his mother are not so bitter and ruined. He moves out of the way for the next person, making a mental note to tell his men to ensure Danny gets home safely after his shift. It would be in his employee's way.

He does this often, assigning some Red Hood boys to make sure no one bothers any of the volunteers. Jason knows he can't get rid of all crime, not like Bruce believes, but he can at least protect those trying to make this place less of a shit hole.

He sits, savoring the flavor with great appreciation. He's got time to relax a little.

One of his Lieutenant is in the back, speaking to the director of the Soup Kitchen. This is one of Jason's protected areas, but to make sure people know it's not to be taken lightly, the Red Hood gang does require protection money.

He doesn't ask a lot but Jason knows that any place that doesn't have protection money is a bigger target. Of course he also here pretending to be hungry just to make sure the place is actually doing what they promised to do and feed people.

When Jason first took over, this particular place had been known to only give out half of the money they donated in food. The rest was going into the old director's pocket. When he caught wind of the senior director often refusing kids just to save money to steal, Jason quickly fed him to the fish.

His Lieutenant, Rogers, would not be able to recognize him. Jason was eating without a mask. What better disguise than his own dead face? Much less the other people in the soup kitchen.

Although he was meant to observe his surroundings for any funny business, Jason glued his eyes on Danny the entire time. It seemed the man had an easy smile for everyone and a calming personality that seemed to put even the most hostile at ease.

Snow. Jason thinks while watching Danny make more tortillas while chatting with a street kid until the young girl feels she could make one. He lets her round the table easily, showing her how to press down on the metal lever with the same soft ease. He's like pure white snow.

He would not last long in Crime Alley. Nothing pure ever does.

Jason fishes his food, unable to look away from what he knows would be a broken man in only a few weeks.

He leaves just as Rogers returns to the front clutching a brown bag. It looks like he didn't need to worry about the upkeeping of this place. He needs to check on the other kitchens in his territory before the day is out.

After three other Kitchens, Jason is satisfied that he's secured two. He must send Rogers to the last one because a few girls seemed uncomfortable with the leering crew. He'll have the creeps removed by this Friday.

He's swinging around as Red Hood on his normal patrol when he catches sight of Danny again. It's close to two in the morning, so he's surprised to see the other man cheerfully strolling about without any signs of exhaust.

He's also not wearing warm clothing despite the snow slowly falling around them. The only difference between what he was wearing earlier is the large black backpack. Jason half wonders if Danny only has nothing else to wear until the man pauses at an alley entry.

He crouches down, unzipping his bag, before pulling out a plastic-wrapped package. Jason watches him cautiously walk into the alley, following on the roofs out of curiosity.

His eyes widen when he spots a young boy hiding behind a trash bin, squishing himself against the wall as Danny carefully approaches him.

Jason hadn't seen the kid when he had passed by earlier, likely due to the boy knowing how to hide himself in the shadows. How had Danny seen him?

"Go away!" The boy yells when Danny gets too close for comfort. Jason's hackles rise, pulling out his gun in case he needs to intervene. He remembers the days when the sound of approaching footsteps to his hiding places in the streets meant.

Danny stops just on the other side of the trash bin. He places the package on top of it and backs away quickly. "I don't mean to bother you. But I thought you could use these. Stay warm, and if you need to escape the snowstorm, go to the address in the right pocket."

The boy doesn't answer, and Danny doesn't seem to wait for one. He leaves with quick strides. Jason watches him from the roof, noticing he returns to a slow stroll once he's back on the main street.

Below, the street kid carefully pulls the plastic bag towards him once he knows Danny is gone. He unwraps the bag only to gasp in delight at the jacket, gloves, hat, scarf, and socks inside. He quickly slips them on, burying himself in the small amounts of warmth they offer him.

Jason watches the boy for a few minutes before jumping down. The kid scrambles away until he realizes it's Rood Hood. Everyone knows that he won't harm street kids.

"Hey," He says, noting that the boy's new clothes seem to be made from expensive material, all in black and neon green. "Do you have somewhere warm to sleep tonight? Snowstorm is coming."

"I can handle it." The boy scoffs despite the shivers that wrack his body.

"I know you can. But it's not safe out here" He kneels at the boy's eye level. He seems about twelve, likely new to the streets since he has yet to find proper shelter. Dirty blond hair and dark, weary brown eyes stare back at him as Jason offers. "Let me get you somewhere safe."

"I won't go back to the stupid system."

"Nah, that shit's broken. I got a safe house for you to crash in."

The boy thinks it over. "Just us?"

Jason isn't a mind reader to know what the kid fears. "No. It's full of other people."

It takes a few more minutes, but eventually, he convinces Max to follow him. They travel across Crime Alley to one of the empty warehouses he had turned into an illegal shelter. Inside are various Red Hood gangsters passing out blankets and setting up cots for people from the streets to sleep.

The heaters are on, but a few still refuse to remove their warm clothing- likely in fear of theft or that it proves an extra layer of comfort- as they settle down.

Max thanks him as the boy rushes to a corner that seems to be taken over by children. He doesn't approach the others to speak to, but he looks more comfortable picking a cot close to them. Jason's eyes widen slightly when he realizes that all seven children are wearing some form of the Black and Neon Green outfits Danny had given Max.

Rogers strolls up next to him, nodding his chin at the children. "Some street kids have been saying a man is offering them free supplies. He doesn't ask for anything in return and leaves them alone with they tell him to. His calling card is the little neon green ghost he places on each item. Want me to take a few of our boys and check him out?"

Jason grunts. "No need. I already know who it is. He seems like a non-threat."

Rogers appears flabbergasted for only a few seconds before pulling himself together. "If you say so, boss."

Jason turns to stare at the man, and Rogers raises his hands. "All I'm saying is that it's a little odd how good the guy is at spotting street kids."

"How good is he?"

"It's like he can see in the dark. He might be a meta."

Jason thinks back to Danny walking around in his light clothes like it's the middle of summer instead of winter and finds some weight in the meta-theory. "I'll pay him a visit soon."

Rogers lets the matter drop, even if he is confused by Jason's involvement. Usually, he has some of the newest members of the youngest ones who reckon a personable target- or new recruits.

But something about Danny called out to Jason. He couldn't say it, but the man's snow-like personality eased the Pit Rage in him. Strangely it felt like Danny was the calm winter promising rest to the wounded parts of Jason's soul.

He didn't want to see Danny's pure heart ruined by this city.

Jason wonders if he could keep it safe and if Danny will even give him the chance to try.

He hopes so. Danny has such a lovely smile.

[capricorn-stark]

Protégé

pairing: red hood!jason todd x robin!reader, slow burn 

warning: swearing

a/n: for context, this is somewhat loosely based off of Battle for the Cowl (2009) which I definitely recommend as a read! 

There was something about falling that you would never, ever get tired of. 

Ever. 

Probably.

With the wind whistling in your ears, your hair floating up in a million directions, and your limbs seemingly weightless as the buildings and lights blurred into one endless streak of color, the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body right before your grappling hook shot out and you landed quietly on the concrete was about a million times better than any sparring session back at the cave. 

You grinned as you straightened, rather proud of the fact that you had actually managed to land so smoothly without nearly paralyzing yourself. Again.The landing was something you had been working on for a while now.

You could practically hear Bruce’s voice ringing through your head after your little stunt, lamenting on and on about how you had more important things to focus on during patrols, and you let out a sigh as you ran down the backway of the nearly empty streets. 

The heavy man who had been bound up with a decently made gag and one of Bruce’s fancy tech pieces (Batcuffs, maybe? Something else with Bat smacked in front of it?) grunted beside you. 

“What? Not like you had someplace to be.” You grabbed the back of his rather tacky-looking spandex suit to drag him along back to where your mentor was supposed to be.

Despite your (many) disagreements and his (many) criticisms of your hand-to-hand combat skills, attitude issues, and pretty much everything else relating to you, Bruce had actually still allowed you to go off on your own tonight. It might’ve been because he wanted a few hours of nothing but beating up petty criminals by himself for stress-relief, it might’ve been because he had started trying out that whole independence thing with you a little more (even though you were still only permitted to be about five blocks or so away), it might’ve been plot-convenience - but either way, you appreciated the gesture.

It didn’t take long for you to pull your new friend over to what should’ve been your rendezvous point with Batman, letting the man drop with a dull thud and a grunt of protest against the concrete as you glanced around for the other man. You weren’t particularly concerned by the fact that the Bat himself wasn’t there yet - after all, he was the goddamn Batman. He’d show up eventually. In the meanwhile, you decided to go over the information you had gotten on the criminal with you. 

Just for the sake of it. Bruce would make you go over it anyways.

“Drury Walker, thirty-two years old, found him trying to mug someone in a back alley and make an escape. Called himself…” you paused, looking down at his sorry-looking outfit for a few moments while he looked up at you with murder and vengence in his eyes. “...Killer Moth.”  

“Killer Moth?” A completely new voice repeated in disbelief, causing you to immediately whirl around to face them in a fight stance, heart racing at a million miles per hour. The guy in front of you had his hands up in the air, his face concealed with some sort of red knock-off Iron Man helmet. He was gonna get copyrighted by Marvel Studios. “Shit, sorry,” he started at the sight of you, still leaning up against one of the walls. “I was supposed to make a wholeass dramatic entrance, but you said his name was Killer Moth and that-” The man made a noise that was either a sharp cough or a laugh of some kind. “-sounded so fucking lame I couldn’t help myself.” 

Despite the fact that you were definitely in some sort of major trouble with this new guy, he really did have a point. Even Killer Moth himself would’ve been embarrassed by how trash his name was, if not for the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm - understandably so, since the new guy had produced not one, but two guns out of apparently nowhere. 

“And let me guess,” he continued, pointing one of them at your head, his tone still all-too light and easy. “You must be the Bat’s brand-new Robin.” 

Now this is where most people would've shut up and proceeded to be complicit with the dude holding two guns. But Batman hadn’t seen reason and made you his (sort of) partner because you were like other people. Hell no.

“Do I look like a traffic signal to you?” It had been the very first of your amendments with Bruce. You would not be fighting crime looking like a literal traffic signal or, at best, a clown from Haly’s Circus. And the tiny green shorts had to go. “Or Robin Hood?” The guy had a rather awkward pause where his gun sort of dipped. Killer Moth was looking between you with wide eyes. “Do I?” 

“I guess you kinda got a point.” You huffed and he raised his gun again, getting more in-your-face as his already angry-looking helmet somehow managed to look angrier. You weren’t exactly sure how a helmet could convey so much emotion. “But you work with Batman. And I heard you went by Robin.” 

Okay, so you couldn’t make him change the name, but you had agreed it would be more of an honorary thing.

“It’s complicated.” 

Using such a phrase as an excuse to escape from situations you didn’t want to go into was one of the many things you had learned from Bruce in your five months of training. Somehow, that seemed to trigger the guy further.

“So you do work with Batman.” 

Before he could do something actually insane, you had managed to push the gun pointed at your head away from you, using his brief second of surprise to take it out of his hands, kick him in the chest, and round back on him with it in hand. 

“And what about it?” 

As cool as you thought you might’ve sounded didn’t cover for the fact that you were still nerve-wracked about what was happening right then. Especially after the guy started to dramatically slow-clap like some sort of evil thespian in a high school drama. 

“Not bad, Robin. Not bad.” He looked at the gun in your hands and grinned. “If you weren’t Batman’s new replacement sidekick, I might’ve believed you had the balls to use that thing.” 

Now, you were an excellent fighter. You had to be, after your excessive training with the guy who had literally mastered about every martial art in existence during his (give or take) five year-long mission to find himself. Plus, some personal experience. But fighting someone like this guy? Built like a tank and padded up in a whole lot of armor and packing an assortment of knives, guns, and even a damn taser you got a first-hand taste of?

You fought hard, but about five minutes and another round of the taser later, you saw the knock-off Iron Man helmet staring down at you before the world went black.

~*~

You woke up in what you assumed was the self-dubbed Red Hood’s safehouse of sorts. 

“How the hell did he rope you into this shit?” he demanded with what you could only assume was him glaring at you through the helmet. Probably some expression that made someone look all angsty and annoyed - which was fair, since he had been trying to drill you for information you straight up refused to give while bound (way too tightly) to a chair for quite some time now. Rather rude. “Let me guess. You watched your parents die.” You stared at him before shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Oh, so they just went ahead and died somehow. Untimely accident caused by some psycho bitch in a Spirit Halloween costume.”

“…nope.” 

“They abandoned you as a child.”

“No, they didn’t - does divorce count?” 

Red Hoodlum’s hands kept clenching and unclenching while he stood there, staring at the wall behind you in silence. From the way his chest kept rising and falling, you were tempted to believe he was practicing breathing exercises amidst his rather violent twitching. 

“Divorce - what the hell is your trauma supposed to be? Why did he pick you?!”

“Hey, just because my trauma doesn’t include people dying doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” you scoffed in response, knowing you were absolutely right about that. Your middle school guidance counselor had said so (and it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, trauma comes in many forms!). “Kinda rude to assume it didn’t affect me somehow.”

He seemed rather abashed at that and you heard him clear his throat a little. 

“...right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted - can you loosen these ropes a little? It’s starting to kinda hurt.” 

“Do I look ten? That’s the oldest trick in the book, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not going to run, just loosen the ropes a little.” He still looked like he didn’t believe you. “Come on, I don’t think I can outrun your guns.” As in his literal array of guns tacked up to the wall behind him, not his gigantic biceps. 

And you weren’t too worried about being held hostage by him, either. You figured you had ten minutes tops before Batman burst in through the doorway, ready to give you a lecture on why straying from the specifically designated parts of Gotham he had let you traipse around was a terribly stupid idea. 

“No.” He was already walking towards the door, because apparently, he had enough of trying to interrogate you. 

“Hold on, I feel like my wrists are actually about to start bleeding or something - where are you going?”

“Keep talking and I’m gonna get the duct tape.” 

“Is that a threat?” Sounding more confident than you actually felt should eventually make you more confident. Eventually. 

The Red Hood sucked in a breath, stopping by the doorway and turning to face you, reaching into his pockets to get what you assumed was either a gun or duct tape when you both startled from a sudden crash. The man in front of you was already whirling around with two guns positioned to shoot when you heard the familiar voice of someone else.

“Hold your fire, soldier. I’m not here for you.” A pause. “Or I wasn’t, but now I kind of am.”

Apparently, Batman was too busy to save you. Now, you got Nightwing. 

And as much as you liked Nightwing, that still kinda stung. 

[thepartyresponsible]

here’s the first fic for inbox cleaning week! i’ve received a few separate prompts for deadpool and dc crossover fics, but i’ve never actually had any luck writing them. i think the problem is that i was trying to throw wade wilson at jason todd, and that’s a molotov cocktail, not a love story.

so here’s deadpool falling absolutely in love with dick grayson. it’s ridiculous and fluffy and shockingly low on violence.

Word comes through the various superhero backchannels that Batman’s got himself murdered again. Or kidnapped. Stolen, dimension-hopped, married. Whatever. The point is, the Dark Knight is brooding in a better place. Or a worse place. A different place, definitely. That much, Wade knows, is true.

A power vacuum in Gotham is never a good thing. The local villains go wild in Bat’s absence, and it’s not the fun kind of wild with foam parties and naked dancing and drunken mistakes. It’s the kind of wild with blood in the streets and monsters rising from the sewers and terrible deaths played out to the soundtrack of mad laughter.

That kind of thing spreads, is the problem. It’s infectious. What starts in Gotham will spread to New York, and Wade doesn’t wanna deal with Gotham bullshit in New York. He doesn’t want New York to feel like it has to one-up Gotham’s weirdness. New York is weird enough.

So Wade, a concerned good-hearted citizen, a real man of the people, swings by Gotham to check up on things.

He expects to see Robin, if he’s lucky. Or maybe Batgirl. Red Hood, if things get especially spicy.

The last he heard, Nightwing was over in Bludhaven, so he doesn’t expect to see him at all.

It’s hard to tell, honestly, if Wade would’ve been prepared to see him if he’d had some kind of warning. It is not at all hard to tell if he’s prepared to see him unexpectedly. The only hard thing is him. Specifically, it’s his dick. Immediately.

It’s not his fault. Nighwing comes back-flipping into a street brawl like he’s qualifying for the Russian women’s gymnastics team. He’s lean and muscular and beautiful, wearing something blessedly skintight, and Wade thinks the entire world stops on its axis, stretches out time, just so he can stare, open-mouthed, at the shape of Nightwing’s ass as it spins under the murky glow of Gotham’s streetlights.

“Holy shit,” Wade says, when Nightwing kicks off a wall, knocks a man unconscious with his thighs, and then does a full twist in the air before hitting the sidewalk in a perfect three-point superhero landing.

“Oh my God,” Wade says, barely breathing. “Do that again. I missed my chance to shove a twenty in your utility belt.”

“Deadpool?” Nightwing stands up, rising from the busted concrete like Aphrodite from the sea. There’s a chorus of angels singing in Wade’s head; he doesn’t know Latin, but he thinks it’s a cherubic cover of Baby Got Back. “What are you doing here?”

“Fighting the good fight,” Wade says, staring helplessly at the bulge of muscle under all that sinful spandex.

Nightwing’s head tilts to the side. “The good fight?”

“Trying not to jizz in my pants,” he clarifies.  

It’s not his best first impression. But at least it’s an honest one.

Nightwing makes him promise not to kill anyone within Gotham city limits, and Wade feels like that’s a perfectly reasonable ask, because he was prepared to offer up three kidneys, half his teeth, and all his childbearing years.

He has a bit of trouble early on. Deathless crime fighting falls outside his general oeuvre, and there’s a whole caper two days in where a guy drops dead of a heart attack, and Wade spends twelve hours desperately hauling the body from one dumpsite to another, trying to find one the Bats don’t know about. But all in all, he does alright, and Nightwing takes him on a romantic picnic a week into his stay to celebrate.

“Is this a date?” Wade asks, as he kicks his heels over the side of the building, biting happily into the cheeseburger Nightwing handed him out of a takeout bag. “Because I’m not really that kinda girl, but we can totally do butt stuff on the first date if you want to. It’s just that you’re so gentlemanly and svelte. You’re completely overwhelming my natural modesty.”

“Svelte,” Nightwing says, laughing. He takes all of Wade’s flirting in stride, and Wade honestly can’t tell if it’s because he’s not interested or because he gets hit on so much and so often that he thinks it’s just how people talk to each other.

Last night, Wade slapped him on the ass in a last-ditch effort to clarify his intentions, and Nightwing just ass-slapped him back and then yelled “Good game!” over his shoulder as he executed a perfect double tuck off a fire escape.

“Bluebird,” Wade says, with a heavy, wistful sigh. “You’re breaking my heart.”

Nightwing looks over at him. He’s got a smear of ketchup right before his bottom lip, and his jawline makes Wade want to lick him from his chin to his ear.

Well, and everywhere else, too.

“You’re a funny guy, Deadpool,” Nightwing tells him. “When Batman comes back and runs you out of Gotham, you’re welcome to take sanctuary in Bludhaven.”

And isn’t that the perfect metaphor for the pair of them? Nightwing, human embodiment of grace and goodwill, ushering Wade, sack of sin in human skin, into a place of sacred safety?

“Okay,” Wade says. “But only if I get to show up in a nun costume and confess my sins on my knees.”

Nightwing nearly chokes on his food. When he looks up at Wade again, he’s smiling, wide and cheerful, a little crooked. He reaches over, pats Wade on the knee, and his fingers must slip on the way back, because they run halfway up Wade’s thigh before he pulls them away.

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” he says.

Wade finds Red Hood in a shoot-out, and the pair of them go through some genuine gymnastics to get the whole thing calmed down without murdering anyone. Wade gets shot five times toward the end, when he gets bored of all the tireless back-and-forth and hops out from behind cover to go chase down the last guy. One of the bullets nicks his spine, so he ends up lying on the floor, face mashed into a growing puddle of blood, waiting for that to heal, but Red Hood’s a real sweetheart and comes along to drag him bodily to a dry patch.

“Hey, Red,” Wade says, when he can finally roll over under his own steam. “First of all, great color scheme.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t sound like he means it. He’s doing some Florence Nightingale cosplay routine on the criminals, patching them up while they lie there unconscious or bat at him weakly, cursing the whole time.

“Second of all, about Nightwing.” Wade pushes himself up on his elbows, tries to move his feet. They don’t respond, so he leans back, settles in to wait a little longer. “What’s he like? What’s he into? Flowers? Wine? Fellatio?”

Red Hood’s head swivels his direction. There’s a long pause. His hands move suddenly, and the trafficker on the ground underneath him screams.

“Yikes,” Wade says.

Red Hood ignores him and goes back to work. Wade watches as he takes a marker out of some unseen pocket in his suit and writes TOURNIQUET 1:21 AM on the criminal’s forehead. When he stands up, his pants stretch over his prodigious thighs, and Wade hears angels signing again, but they’re a little half-hearted about it.

A minute or so later, Wade climbs shakily to his feet and stretches while his nerves get their shit together. “I mean it,” he says, walking across the warehouse. “Nightwing. I’m trying to woo him. Got any tips?”

“You could fuck off,” Red Hood says, off-hand.

“Novel approach,” Wade says. “Don’t see how it’s gonna help.”

“It’s gonna help me.” Red Hood surveys the bloody scene, hands on his hips. He points directly at a pale man in the corner, whose leg is so badly broken than his toes are somehow pointing directly behind him. “You’d better not fucking go into shock. EMS is five minutes out. You’re alive when they get here, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Yeah,” Wade says. “Me too.”

Red Hood shakes his head and stalks out of the building. Wade follows at his heels. All these Bats have really amazing asses. He wonders what their workout routines look like.

“How many squats do you do?” Wade asks. “I mean, hourly. What’re we talking? Two hundred?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Red Hood ducks into an alley, and Wade ducks right along beside him.

“Nothing. I’m just curious about those thighs.”

Red Hood lets Wade follow him all the way up the fire escape, but then he turns around, blocks his path, and stares at him through the eyes of the helmet. “Stop following me. I promised not to kill anyone in Gotham, but you can’t die.”

Wade blinks at him. “What’s that mean?”

“It means,” Red Hood says, leaning in, “that I can do anything I want to you. Won’t kill you, right? And I’m in a real bitch of a dry spell.”

“Jesus, Red,” Wade says, clutching at nonexistent pearls, “did you mean that to sound as sexual as it did?”

Red Hood makes a low, disgusted noise. “Aren’t you panting after Nightwing?”

“Sure,” Wade says. He swallows, shakes his head a little. If Red Hood is the scintillating demon in skimpy red lingerie, Nightwing is the beautiful angel in white lace, and he’s trying to be good here. He’s trying to orient himself, dick-first, toward the side of light and beauty. “But, hey, I’m a flexible guy. Listen. If you put on a domino mask, maybe spray paint that red bat blue, we could have something.”

Red Hood visibly recoils. “I’m gonna throw up,” he announces.

“Yeah,” Wade says, nodding. “A lot of my romances start that way.”

Red Robin won’t give him any advice, either. He won’t even talk to him. He scampers away into darkness every time Wade so much as gets close.

He corners him, finally, when Red Robin’s in the middle of doing something complicated with what appears to be an actual, no-shit time bomb. There’s a digital timer counting down and everything. It looks like something out of a 90’s movie.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry. I can see you’re busy. But if you had to seduce Nightwing in five minutes or less, how would you do it?”

“Are you serious?” Red Robin points empathetically at the bomb. “I’m working.”

“Yeah,” Wade says. “I see that.” He glances at the timer. “Looks like you’ve got at least thirty seconds to answer the question.”

Red Robin make a series of persecuted noises. “I can’t believe he was serious,” he says, when he’s done.

Wade feels a flutter in his chest. It could be the chalupas he fished out of the dumpster four blocks back, but he thinks maybe it’s love instead. “Who? Nightwing? Was he talking about me?”

“No, Red Hood. He mentioned your weird crush in the group text.”

Wade gasps. “I made the Bats’ group text? Batman’s gonna see my name?”

Red Robin peers up at him. It’s hard to tell, given how much of his face is covered, but he looks pained. “Nightwing likes redheads,” he says. “Busty redheads.”

Wade thinks it over. “I can get surgery,” he decides. “And a wig.”

“Oh my God,” Red Robin says, and severs a wire.

They don’t blow up. That’s probably more important for Red Robin than it is for Wade.

Wade gives him a companionable slap on the back. “Hey, look at you, kid. You’re doing great.”

The look Red Robin directs his way is bleak. “Honestly, I was kind of hoping for a quick death.”

The smallest Bat doesn’t speak to him at all. He just comes at Wade with a sword. It’s maybe the single most adorable thing Wade’s ever seen.

“Look at you!” Wade coos, as they dodge and spin, blades clashing against each other. “You’re so cute and angry, oh my God!”

Robin shrieks something shrill and then tries to take his head off.

Nightwing and Red Hood arrive to break things up before the fight can get out of control. Wade loses a couple fingers in the brawl, but he manages to keep Robin from getting nicked even the littlest bit. He gives the kid a jaunty wave as Red Hood hauls him away in a fireman’s carry.

“You’re doing great, sweetie!” he yells. “I’m so proud of you!”

Robin flips him off with both hands, and Wade honestly tears up a little.

“Kids, huh?” he says, knocking his shoulder into Nightwing’s. “They’re the future.”

Nightwing runs a hand down his face. He seems embarrassed. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “Red Hood made a joke about protecting my virtue, and Robin didn’t get the humor.”

Wade nods sympathetically. “They’re very literal at that age.”

“Yeah,” Nightwing says, sighing heavily. “God, that’s embarrassing.”

Wade checks on his hand. The last three fingers of his left hand are just tiny little spurs of skin and bone, re-growing as he waits.

Nightwing breathes in sharp across his teeth. “He cut off your fingers?”

“Yeah.” Wade shrugs. “He’s a scrappy little thing, huh? But they’ll grow back.”

“I’ll have a talk with him,” Nightwing says. His hands land on his hips. He sounds deeply aggrieved on Wade’s behalf. Those butterflies come back, and Wade hasn’t eaten since he stole a box of Fruit Loops this morning, so he knows it’s not indigestion this time.

He nudges Nightwing with his shoulder again. “You could kiss it better,” he offers, with blind, desperate optimism.

Nightwing turns to stare at him. His eyes are an unreadable white behind his domino mask, but his mouth is twisting up into a dubious smile. “You want me to kiss your bloody stumps?”

Wade swallows. “Can I, uh.” He stops, swallows again. “Can I pick another stump for you to put in your mouth?”

Nightwing snorts and then shakes his head. His smile is breathtaking. Or would be, if Wade hadn’t snuck a quick glance down at his ass while Nightwing had his eyes closed. As it stands, Wade doesn’t have any breath left to take.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Nightwing says. “To make up for Robin.”

“Oh,” Wade says, perking up. “A second date, huh? Can we do it without the gargoyle chaperones this time? No offense, but they’re a real buzzkill.”

Nightwing shifts beside him. He makes a low, thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “We can do it at my place,” he offers.

“Jesus, baby blue,” Wade says, “I can’t deal with the innuendo anymore. You gotta cut it out. I’m gonna ruin my pants.”

Nightwing grins, smug and crooked, and reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck. He’d seem almost shy, except Wade can’t believe for a second that a man who’d willingly leave the house in that outfit has a single spare ounce of modesty left in him.

“Who says it’s innuendo?” Nightwing asks. He glances up at him, sidelong through the domino mask, and Wade’s heart swoops, spins, and settles into the pit of his stomach. “Maybe it was just an offer.”

Wade wonders if he’s hallucinating. Maybe that tiny little Robin drugged him somehow.

“What?” he asks, turning to face him straight on. “What was that, Bluebird? Sorry, I hallucinated.”

Nightwing laughs. He’s still smiling, bright and friendly. “Come on, Deadpool. Let me buy you dinner. We can take it back to my place.”

“Maybe you’re hallucinating.” Wade steps closer, checks Nightwing over from the top of his artfully messy hair to the tread of his boots. “Did that little demon get you? Hit you on the head? Stab you with a needle, dose you up?”

“Hm, maybe.” Nightwing doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by how close Wade is. His voice is a little lower, though, dropping into bedroom range. “Maybe you’d better check.”

Wade stares, open-mouthed.

Nightwing shakes his head a little, still smiling, and then he reaches down and takes Wade’s hand, knots their fingers together, and tugs him toward the door. “You coming?” he asks.

“God,” Wade says, stumbling after him, ready to follow him to hell and back, right through the worst parts of Gotham. “God, not yet. But I’m really close.”

[bat-losers-inc]

Collisions in the Dark (ch4): Anti-Positional

Warnings: dub-con

Summary: Both Tim and Jason have passed Ra’s’ tests and now they hatch plans on their own behind closed doors.

Pairings: Jason Todd/Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul/Tim Drake

Chapter Notes: Anti-positional: Anti-positional is used to describe moves that are part of an incorrect plan rather than a mistake made when trying to follow a correct plan.

“Him pressing against me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kissing falling over me like stars. Names of heat and names of light, names of collision in the dark” — “ Saying Your Names ”, Richard Siken.

Tim watched the small group exit the hangar platform, three people secured in their grasp, hands tied and heads covered with cloth sacks. One was obviously a child and Tim had to restrain himself from running over there and beating the person that clutched the young girl by her shoulders senseless. Tim spotted Jason, looking wearied in more ways than one, but knew it would be awhile before he was able to speak with him alone.

He decided to wait in Jason’s room, but on the way there he was intercepted by one of Ra’s men informing him that there was to be a meeting in the command center. Having no idea where that was, Tim was forced to follow the man as he led him through a maze of dark hallways and staircases. Emerging into the command center was like walking into a different century. It was the same large room with its dark wood floors and oriental accents, except large screens covered the far wall and computers hummed with life on every table.

Ra’s was leaning over the long table at the center of the room, another man at his side as they gestured down at a set of blueprints. Tim pushed through the crowd, hoping to get a glimpse at what they were for. Ra’s eyes flickered up momentarily, catching Tim moving towards him and said something quietly to the man at his side. By the time Tim reached the edge of the table, the blueprints were being hurriedly rolled into a scroll.

Tim groaned internally. He had a feeling gaining Ra’s trust wasn’t going to be an easy process, but they were dealing with a limited time schedule if Jason and Tim wanted to send out a warning before the actual event was to take place. Ra’s had persuaded Tim to join him with the idea of watching his master plan take place. Tim had assumed he would be working at Ra’s side, but now he was starting to believe he’d be just as surprised as the weapon’s victims when the time came.

Ra’s snaked his hand around Tim’s waist and leisurely rubbed his hand along his hip. Tim ignored his instincts and leaned into the touch. Ra’s hummed appreciatively. “You were up early this morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Mmhm, just wanted to have a look around.” If he was being honest only part of that was true… yes he’d wanted to have a look around Ra’s compound before the man himself woke up. But he really didn’t have to wait until later that morning, he could have slipped out of bed at any time during those sleepless hours when he had Ra’s arm wrapped around him in a foreign embrace.  

Tim wanted terribly to shift away from Ra’s hands. His body ached and was marked up and down with bruises, some intentional… some just a result of passion—  though not on Tim’s part. His mind had escaped his body at that point of the night, it was floating somewhere up above his body thinking about the starry sky and the mountains in the distance. In his mind he was venturing past those snow covered peaks, across entire continents, to the place where Jason existed. Was he still alive or was he lying in a ditch somewhere? Would Tim even know? Tim liked to imagine he would— that there would be a tugging sensation within himself to signal such an event, but then again he'd always witnessed the deaths of the ones he loved. Death to him was always a splatter of blood, an abridged cry, the impact of a body against the pavement, or the silence after all the noise.

The doors to the command center slid open, drawing Tim away from his dark thoughts, though the sight that greeted him didn’t lighten his mood. Jason and Talia entered the room, Talia moving directly to one of the chairs at the long table looking so tired like she couldn’t bare to stand up a moment longer. Jason, looking equally exhausted and agitated, hesitated to follow her when his eyes landed on Tim. He inhaled sharply, audible even across the room,  his nostrils flaring.

“Honestly, father. This couldn’t have waited a few hours for us to get properly rested?” Asked Talia.

Ra’s took a seat at the table across from her. “My dear, you know as well as I do that mission information is always best when delivered fresh.”

Talia’s voice detailing their mission was a distant noise in the background as Tim sat down as well, conscious of Jason doing the same though with less grace since his eyes were still mapping the path of Tim’s skin. Tim could only imagine what he looked like to the other man, how Jason’s eyes must be jumping from bruise to bruise.

It was only the silence that ensued afterwards that signals both boys to what was happening around them.

Tim jerked to look at Ra’s who was smiling at him. “Perhaps you’re more tired than you thought, beloved.”

Tim still cringed at the pet name, sounding too ancient to his ears.

“When are you going to let us in on your plans?” Asked Tim, crossing his arms.

Ra’s quirked an eyebrow, resting his head against his fist. “When you’ve proven yourself of course.”

Tim ground his teeth. “And didn’t we? Jason completed his mission and I… showed you my commitment last night.”

Ra’s tsked at him. “Oh, Timothy. Jason has most definitely shown me his skill and you your dedication, but acts of devotion in the bedroom can’t justify your commitment to our cause.”

“Ra's is right,” responded Jason, making no attempt to hide the malice in his voice. “Anyone can fake enjoying it if they're loud enough about it. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Tim flushed, both from anger and embarrassment. “That’s not— we didn’t— ”

He wanted to yell at Jason that he shouldn’t say things like that, it would only cause Ra’s to question his loyalty more, but another part of him felt gratified by Jason’s angry words. He couldn’t afford to feel anger like that when every fiber of his being was working towards gaining Ra’s conviction and therefore escaping from under the eye of his scrutiny.  

Ra’s icy gaze was fixed upon Jason, but it seemed to be a fire and ice scenario. They’d landed upon an area where Jason’s anger was so strong that it matched Ra’s blow for blow. Jason wouldn’t back down until Ra’s did, and Ra’s was wise enough to shift onto a different topic.

“I can see you’re in need of rest. Later, however I’d like you and Timothy to visit our new occupants and convince the scientist to begin work. Are we understood?”

“Crystal,” Jason grunted and shoved out of his chair, heading straight for the door. He only needed to spare one glance over his shoulder at Tim for him to understand that they needed to discuss things in private.

They ended up back in Jason’s room and Tim was unprepared for Jason to turned on him the moment the door was closed. In the blink of an eye he was right in front of him, hands tilting his head back and tugging at the collar of his shirt to get a closer view of the skin underneath. Jason emitted a disgruntled noise at what he saw and reached for the hem of Tim’s t-shirt. Finally recovering from his shock, Tim was quick to slap Jason’s inquiring hands down and away.

“Hey,” Tim hissed. “back off won’t you? And stop poking at me like I’m a piece of meat, if you haven’t noticed I’m a little sore today.”

“I’ll bet you are, you look like the girls in Crime Alley after their pimps get to them for skimming from the cashbox.”

“Gee, Jason. Thanks for that.” Tim scowled, “ Like I didn’t already feel like enough of a prostitute. And to think I got it into my head that you were worried about me…”

He stepped around Jason and headed toward the door. “Nice talking to you, Jason. Let’s do this again sometime.”

“Tim—” Jason planted his hand against the door before Tim could open it. “Shit— just wait a minute won’t you? I didn’t mean to piss you off like that. Look… I was worried about you, but more than that, I was fucking angry.”

Tim leaned his shoulder against the door and glared up at him. “No, really? So that’s what that little outburst back there was about. You could have ruined us right off the bat, do you know that? What the hell were you thinking? Anyone can fake enjoying it if they're loud enough about it.”

“I was thinking that he might have forced you and I couldn’t let that smug look on his face stand.” Jason slammed his fist into the door beside Tim’s head. Tim blinked at him, surprised that his situation could evoke such a response from Jason.

“Did he force you?” Jason asked after a minute, his voice quieter than it had been before.

Tim sighed and stared down at his feet. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me.”

“You know he could never really force me to do anything I didn’t want to do,” Tim rubbed at his shoulder, wondering how much he should tell Jason. He figured it was best to tell him the whole truth. After all it was Jason, he’d probably get it out of him at some point. Tim could also do without another outburst like before. “But… I will admit that in the beginning I freaked out a bit and tried to make a run for it. That’s where most of these bruises came from.”

“Fucking bastard,” hissed Jason. “The man is centuries old, probably has a signed copy of the fuckin’ Kama Sutra, and he still doesn’t know how to treat a partner properly.”

The other boy looked like he wanted to find Ra’s and punch him in the face. Tim gripped his elbow tightly, just in case.

“No, he was testing me, Jason. Just like he was testing you. To see my commitment— to see how far I was willing to go. Honestly, I think he would have been more suspicious if I didn’t try to run.”

Jason was silent for a moment, thinking, his head pressed against the door. He turned to Tim and inspected his skin again, now with more care. Tim let him this time, eyes scrutinizing his body, his fingertips following the same path as his gaze like they were one in the same.

Tim shivered as Jason’s fingers skimmed the bruises around his neck. Jason frowned and traced his fingers around the back of Tim’s neck and into his hair. Tim hissed as Jason probed the still tender flesh and jerked his head to the side.

“What happened here?” asked Jason.

Tim’s fingers lingered over the tender area, not confident enough to touch it and have the pain flare up again. He hesitated before answering. “He was teaching me the proper technique and got a little… overzealous in his handling.”

Jason snorted darkly. “Only you would use the world overzealous when talking about a blow job.”

His hands dropped away suddenly as he reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a pharmacy bag. “I did a little shopping while they were fueling up the plane.”    

He tossed the bag to Tim, who caught it against his chest. He peaked inside to see various tubes of creams and bottles of aspirin. “Even with my knowledge of the Tibetan language, I don’t know what half of these are for.”

“Well one of them is for if he got a little overzealous during the main event and didn’t prep you enough—”

Tim chucked the bag onto the bed like it had suddenly caught fire. “Goddamnit, Jason! What the hell do you think happened last night?”

 “I was thinking it’s Ra’s, who isn’t used to taking no for an answer, and you, who might just be stubborn enough to fight him all the way through it. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find when I came back.”

“We didn’t even— he just fingered m—  of course he prepped me, he wanted me to enjoy it—” Tim’s mouth was suddenly dry and Jason was staring at him too intently for his liking. He had the sudden feeling that he’d said too much. “Nevermind. I just meant that we didn’t go all the way. It was a lot more of me pleasuring him than anything else.”

“Right, well… like I said I didn’t know what state I’d find you in so there’s a little extra present in there for you.” Jason pointed at the abandoned bag. Tim warily reached for it again as Jason continued to speak.

“The bottle with the green label. In case there’s a night that Ra’s is ready for a go and you’re not up to it.”

Tim made a face. “Viagra?”

Jason snickered. “God no, you idiot. It’s diazepam. Crush it up and put it in Ra’s wine and it’ll knock him out. Make sure to ply him with a lot of alcohol though, otherwise he’ll probably figure out you drugged him.”

“Oh, thank you.” Tim turned the bottle in his hand, unsure of what to say to the fact that Jason apparently cared about his wellbeing enough to give him drugs to use against another man.

Jason turned away and started changing into different clothes, obviously considering this conversation over. Tim glanced at the door, knowing he should probably leave and let Jason sleep, but couldn’t help lingering anyway.

He squeezed the bottle of pills, gathering up his nerves. “Jason?”

Jason pulled a clean shirt over his head and turned back to Tim, his expression curious. “Yeah?”

“What happens if I’m not good enough… or if I can’t fake it enough to convince him? He won’t open up to me afterwards if he didn’t enjoy it or…”

“Hey, hey.” Jason was in front of him, hands rubbing along his forearms, rough and warm. “It’s just sex, Tim. Like I said, anyone can fake it. Just try to be vocal while its happening. If he wants you to enjoy it, it won't take much effort on your part to convince him you are.”

“Well, what if I can’t?” Tim jerked out of his hold, wiping at his watering eyes. “My first time wasn’t all that special and, oh god, I don’t want Ra’s to be the one to make me feel that.”

It was probably the most intimate thing Tim had ever said to Jason.

Rough fingers lingered along his cheek and jaw, the faintest of a touch. He could feel Jason standing beside him, his chest brushing up against Tim’s arm with every breath the other boy took. Tim wasn’t sure if he should pull away or not— in truth he didn’t want to, instead he kept his gaze averted.

“He doesn’t have to be...” The words were little more than a murmur against Tim’s ear. A little sinful offering, easy enough to brush away as nothing if he didn’t want to take Jason up on his offer. He knew Jason wouldn’t hold it against him if he ignored it.

Tim stared up at Jason through watery eyes.

“What?” he whispered.

Jason’s thumb was brushing at his cheek now, his expression soft. “You’ve really got no idea what you do to people, do you?”

The answer came to him, but Tim couldn’t connect the pieces for the life of him.

“You— but you’ve never—” Tim sputtered. Not once had Jason ever given him the notion that his feelings went any deeper than general tolerance… maybe affection. Then again… they’d never felt brotherly either, not like Tim’s relationship with Dick. Now that Tim thought about it, it seemed like a very deliberate decision on Jason’s part that they never crossed that line.

“It would have been selfish of me.” Jason said, his fingers shifting the bangs away from Tim’s eyes. “You were young and you deserved so much better than some vigilante thug from Crime Alley. I wanted you to have better options. Like Conner. He was your first, right?”

Tim nodded. He remembered Connor’s large, strong, hands gripping his hips, so afraid that he was going to break him if he lost control of himself. They had both been afraid of a lot of things that night. The sex had been premature and full of embarrassed laughter pressed into the other’s skin to keep from being overheard by their other teammates in the tower.

“But Conner’s been gone for a year. Why tell me now?”

Jason shrugged and smiled a soft smile, with just the barest hint of teeth. Tim couldn’t stop staring at his lips. “I’m feeling selfish now. So, I’m offering tonight… if you want it. Just this once.”

“Just this once.” Tim whispered like he was afraid if he said it any louder it wouldn’t really happen.

Jason smiled, but some of the earlier softness in his face had transformed into lustful heat. His gripped Tim’s elbow and drew him close so he could speak into his ear.

“Sneak away later tonight and meet me back here. I’ll show you what the real thing feels like. Ra’s won’t ever have to know.”

Jason’s hand was hot against Tim’s flushed skin and Tim caught himself against Jason’s waist, his legs suddenly weaker than they’d been a moment ago. It’s nerves, he told himself, but didn’t remove his hand. He tilted his head at a steep angle, but this close he could see no higher than Jason’s nose and his pink lips framed among the scruff of his 5 o’clock shadow, and for once Tim did not mind the height difference that existed between them.

As Tim breathed in the same breaths as Jason, he wondered what Jason had been drinking before. Spiced and earthy, the closest guess Tim could make was some type of black tea and before he knew what he was doing he was pressing his lips to Jason’s. They were stiff with surprise at first but quickly yielded to the pressure as Jason pulled Tim more firmly against him and deepened the kiss. Jason parted his lips and allowed Tim to tentatively explore his mouth with his tongue, gliding across the backs of his teeth and mingling with his own tongue— which Tim didn’t doubt was more talented than his own, but was patiently being restrained. It was another long minute before Tim pulled back, but only enough to press his face into the crook of Jason’s neck, slowing his breathing back to a normal pace.

It was only when Jason gave Tim’s elbow a squeeze and a light nudge towards the door that Tim collected himself enough to leave. He closed the bedroom door behind him, the cold air from the hallway cooling his flushed skin. Tim glanced down at the bottle of pills in his sweaty hand, by the time he started down the hall he’d already figured out the right moment to use it. He’d have to be careful about it, if Ra’s suspected anything he’d be in trouble. Still, that wouldn’t be the most exciting part of his night, he reminded himself with a small smile… that would come afterwards.

[amarits]

F for the fanfiction asks

F. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

[Spoiler Warning if you haven’t read Common People]

Oh man, this is hard. I have to remember something I wrote. 

I tend to go through trends of liking something when I first write it, liking it less each time I reread it, entirely forgetting it exists, and then reading it months later and liking it again. I was just rereading part of the second chapter today to remind myself of something for the chapter I’m working on, and this part made me laugh:

“What?” Tim asked. “I’m just checking to see if he has street cred.”

“Okay, look, squirt," Jason said. "You can’t say street cred while wearing that shirt.”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“You look like an Ivy League freshman on their way to their first lacrosse meet.”

Tim looked down at his button-up plaid shirt, khaki pants—seriously, what kind of asshole puts an eleven-year-old in khaki pants?—and loafers, and said, “I think you have no idea what people wear while playing lacrosse.”

But I’ll probably reread it on my blog tomorrow and be embarrassed by it because that’s the kind of person I am.

More after the read more because I ended up having way more on this than I expected.

I do like writing Jason and Tim scenes because I can just let their personalities play off of each other and they can be weird kids together. This scene makes me laugh too:

He turned his head so his ear was against the door. There was a quiet shuffling noise he couldn’t place. "Doing okay in there?" he asked after several long minutes dragged past.

"No, I'm dying." The response was immediate, but sounded distracted and far away.

"You are not." He pressed his ear harder against the door. The noises had to be from the far side of the closet. There was a quiet grunt followed by a thump.

"I'm having a heart attack." There was another grunt and then a rattle. What the hell?

"You can't actually think I'd fall for that, can you?" he asked, moving along the door to try to hear better. It occurred to him that he had no idea what was stored in that closet. Little Timmy could be doing anything in there. In the Alley, that probably meant he had a weapon. Maybe even a hastily assembled bomb, but he couldn’t imagine the rich brat assembling anything more dangerous than a bubble blower.

But if he was up to something, Jason wasn’t going to just sit around and wait for him to finish.

"It's not a trick,” Tim said. “I'm having a heart attack and dying."

Jason swung the door open on the last word, fists clenched and body braced for an attack. Instead Tim stilled and stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. He was surrounded by boxes, another small one in his hands. What looked like a decorative coat rack had fallen behind him, the top of it pointing at Jason’s feet.

“What the hell?” Jason asked. Had he been making a fort?

“This is what having a heart attack looks like,” Tim said.

I also really enjoy anytime Bruce and Jason talk because of the way it tends to go a little bit wrong despite best intentions. They’re bad at communicating, so just about everything turns into an argument, but I think you can usually see that Bruce is trying. I like this scene after the gala, for example: 

“Jason, can I talk to you for a minute?” Wayne asked, inclining his head towards the hallway.

Here it comes, Jason thought as he stood up and followed. The smug told-you-sos and maybe a punishment for leaving early. Sure, Tim left early too, but Jason was the one with something to prove. His shoulders hunched more with each step until he was practically the hunchback of Notre Dame.

Wayne turned to face him in the hallway, expression serious. “You did well,” he said.

What the hell? Jason straightened up so quickly to stare at him he got a crick in his back.

“Much better than I expected,” he continued, because of course. He couldn’t just compliment Jason. He had to append an insult onto the end there.

“What did you expect?” Jason asked. “For me to yell at a few people and then go streaking through the ballroom?”

Wayne gave him a pointed look. “I don’t think yelling would have been out of character.”

“Fuck you. You don’t know me.”

Wayne rubbed a hand down his face. “This isn’t supposed to be an argument. I’m trying to say that you did well and I’m proud of you.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. He was sure there was still an insult buried in there somewhere. Proud for what? Not being himself? Not embarrassing the family?

“I know that couldn’t have been easy for you,” Wayne continued, “especially with some of the things people were saying, but you handled yourself well.”

“So, what?” Jason asked. “‘Handling myself well’ is not standing up for myself? Just letting people walk all over me?”

“No,” Wayne said sharply. Jason flinched, then quickly schooled his expression. He didn’t want to show Wayne any weakness. “It’s not rising to the bait. People are going to talk badly about you. Heaven knows they talk badly about me. It’s only going to get worse if you try to fight them. That doesn’t mean you can’t stand up for yourself.” A smirk danced across his lips. “I thought you handled ol’ Ronny boy perfectly.”

Oh. Apparently Wayne had heard what Ronny said. And then greeted him with a huge smile. He didn’t know how he felt about that. At least when people were yelling you knew where you stood with them. The idea that all those people were just constantly talking behind each other's backs while smiling to their faces made his guts twist uncomfortably. How was he supposed to ever know who he could trust?

“Yeah, well, maybe they deserved to be yelled at,” Jason said.

“They often do,” Wayne said with an obnoxiously sage tone of voice. What, was he going for a wise-man-on-the-mountain act? Trying to appear understanding? He couldn’t understand. He was one of them.

“Stop it,” Jason spat out. “Stop trying to act like you’re better than them. You were right there with them.” Wayne opened his mouth to respond but Jason steamrolled over him. “This was supposed to be a charity event, but nobody cared about anything except looking rich, acting rich, and getting along with the other rich people. Every person there could feed all of Crime Alley for a year without sacrificing a single luxury, but they don’t care about anything but themselves. You included.”

Wayne was silent. Good. Maybe he’d go away and Jason could get back to figuring out how to beat Tim.

“The gala raised 2.3 million dollars,” Wayne said, voice even. Jason knew that tone. It was the one people used when they were right on the edge of lashing out. He braced himself, but stood his ground. “We have a charity division that handles the distribution of funds, but perhaps you’d like to sit in on the meeting where they decide what to do with the money from this gala?”

That. Was not what he expected. He faltered, and Wayne seemed to notice. His voice softened.

“I know it might not have looked like it in there tonight, but we are… I am trying to help people.” He raised a hand as if to put it on Jason’s shoulder but stopped when Jason stiffened. He slowly lowered it again. “You have a better idea than me what would help people the most. You’ve lived it. I’m sure the charity division would appreciate your input.”

He shrugged, not meeting Wayne’s eyes. “Yeah, okay. Maybe.”

He thought he saw Wayne smile out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked fully it was gone. “Good,” he said, as if he’d completed a business deal. Fucker.

Probably my favorite conversations though are the ones while they’re climbing the fire escape in the 7th chapter. First, Tim and Jason’s conversation about Tim’s mom. I wrote, or imagined, so many versions of Jason learning about Tim’s mom. The first was actually as far back as the third chapter when Dick was telling Jason about how he came to the manor. Then when Tim mentioned his mom in the fourth chapter. Then when they were on the roof in the fifth chapter. Then after the gala in the 6th chapter. But it never felt right. It was too much information to give unprompted or Jason didn’t feel comfortable asking. Instead you get little references and Jason wondering, so I really enjoyed finally having the conversation.

“You should talk to Dad, you know.”

“I don’t think that’s ever true,” Jason muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim said. He stopped at the next landing and waited for Jason to catch up. He didn’t seem at all out of breath, which was terribly unfair. Jason needed in on whatever exercise routine Dick had him on. “I don’t know what’s going on with him and your mom and—” He waved his hand in wild circles. “But I’m sure he’s not keeping you from her on purpose.”

“Then what is he doing?” Jason asked harshly, breaking the sentence halfway through to breathe. Fuck, he didn’t want to talk about this when he was too out of breath to argue.

“I don’t know,” Tim said. “But he wouldn’t do that.”

Jason sneered. “I don’t know about that, Timmy. I haven’t seen your mom around.” He hadn’t asked. He’d kept not asking because it wasn’t his business, and it was clear nobody wanted to talk about it, but hell if it wasn’t relevant.

Tim’s eyes widened and he took a sharp breath. Then his face closed down. It was like he was trying to mimic Wayne’s robot act, but not quite succeeding. Tears bloomed at the corner of his eyes. “That has nothing to do with dad.”

“You sure about that?” Jason asked. Because he wasn’t. Tim was a baby when he came to the manor. He didn’t know what happened behind closed doors when he was too young to remember.

“Yes,” Tim spat vehemently.

“So, then where is she?” Jason pressed.

“I don’t know,” Tim said. He turned and stomped up the steps to the next landing. “Somewhere in South America, I think,” he said loudly enough to be heard over the percussive metal ringing. “Enjoying not having a kid slowing her down.”

Jason followed slowly after him. Tim stopped halfway across the landing and stared out at the thin sliver of road they could see between buildings. Jason stopped beside him and leaned on the railing. Headlights passed by in eerie silence. Up here, they couldn’t hear anything but wind whistling through the narrow alley.

“Everyone tells me she’s just busy,” Tim said, talking out into the night instead of to Jason. “Or...I don’t know, something. She owns her own company. She works hard. She travels a lot. But I know the truth. She never wanted me and I got in the way.” Jason wanted to say he was sure that wasn’t true, to reassure Tim in some way, but he got the idea Tim was tired of reassurances. And the truth was, he wasn’t sure that Tim’s mom cared. He knew better than to think every mom was good.

Tim slowly started walking up the stairs again, no longer stomping, but not bouncing either. So softly Jason almost didn't hear it, he said, “At least your mom had a good reason to give you up.”

Jason had to say something. He had to say something. It had already been too long, and the silence weighed heavier with each step he took. Finally, he croaked, “Tim.” Tim twisted to face him, one foot up a step. “Fuck her. She doesn’t deserve you.” Elegant Jason, real elegant.

Tim laughed roughly and wiped an arm across his eyes. “Thanks.”

And then, of course, Robin showing up. This is one of those scenes that I wrote a dozen times in my head because I love it so much. I mentioned in an earlier ask that one of my favorite things in any story is the reveal or realization moment, and this one has so many layers of who knows what that it amuses the heck out of me. 

Then the whole fire escape rocked with one of his steps. He clung with both hands to the railing and stared at his foot wondering what he’d done for a good three seconds before he heard Tim say, “Oh,” and looked up.

Something very brightly colored was perched on the railing of the next landing. Someone very brightly colored was perched on the railing, head jerking back and forth between them at an alarming rate. Jason couldn’t see his eyes past the mask, but the way it was stretched taught from cheekbones to forehead suggested his eyes were wide.

“What?” he said. “What are..? How..? What?!”

Jason had never met Robin himself, but he’d always gotten the idea from people who had that he was better spoken than this.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, finally managing to sputter together a full sentence. Jason was already creeping back down the stairs, but he didn’t think he had much of a chance of running down fifteen flights of narrow stairs before Robin could catch him, and Tim wasn’t even making an effort to move. He’d hiss at Tim to follow if he thought he could without Robin hearing.

“Oh, hello,” Tim said. “It’s nice to meet you. Um. We’re good, thank you.”

Did he think he was at a cocktail party refusing service from a waiter? Robin wouldn’t care that they were “good, thank you.” He’d care that they looked like they were breaking into a building.

“You’re good? You’re on the outside of a skyscraper! On the… the… the seventeenth floor! At one in the morning!”

“I did say we should take the elevator,” Jason said before his brain caught up to his mouth. Robin’s full attention immediately turned on him. And God, did he look ridiculous. If Jason hadn’t heard more than one story of people getting their asses kicked by this fashion-blind monstrosity he’d probably be in danger of laughing himself right off the fire escape. As is, he stood very still and tried not to look like he was resisting arrest.

“Shhhh,” Tim said, and Robin’s gaze immediately swung back to him. It was both a relief and nerve wracking. He’d rather Robin’s attention be on him than Tim. Tim was smaller and really, really stupid sometimes.

He braced his shoulders. “We’re not doing anything illegal,” he said. He didn’t actually know if that was true. Was climbing outside buildings illegal? It might be trespassing. He tried to sound confident anyway. “Leave us alone. Go stop a crime.”

Robin’s mouth opened and closed a few times like a creepy ventriloquist doll. “I’m not worried you’re doing something illegal. I’m worried you’re going to get hurt!”

That sounded suspect to Jason but he went with it. “We’re fine.”

“You’re eleven and thirteen!” Jason blinked at him and Robin immediately added, “Roundabouts, I assume.”

This all made way more sense suddenly. Robin knew who they were. Read the tabloids, probably. No wonder he was worrying about them instead of beating them up.

“Right,” Jason said. “Well, we’re all good and kind of busy so shoo.”

Tim had a hand over his mouth and wide eyes. Jason couldn’t tell if he was amused or horrified. Maybe a mix of both. That was probably the same way Jason was going to feel in about two hours when this was all over, assuming it didn’t end in them falling to their deaths or jail.

“I… okay, no. I’m taking you two home. Right now. Immediately. I am not leaving two children out here on their own. At one in the morning!” He was really sticking on that one in the morning thing, which was fair, Jason supposed, except he probably would have been more concerned about the seventeen floors up thing himself. Then again, this was a guy that regularly jumped off buildings.

He saw Tim out of the corner of his eye sneaking backwards to position himself more behind Robin and really hoped he wasn’t going to try to knock Robin out or something equally stupid. Then he realized Tim had sneakily taken out his camera and was snapping pictures of the two of them. Of course he was. That kid had no sense of self-preservation.

“And if we refuse?” Jason asked.

“I’ll call Batman,” Robin said.

Jason scowled. It was a good threat. Batman would be way more likely to beat them up and leave them hanging from a light post for the police. He’d seen it happen, one guy dangling from his ankle, swinging and screaming while a buddy tried to help him down. Everyone ran and abandoned him to his fate when the sirens started though.

“Jason just wants to see his mom,” Tim said. He looked nervous at the mention of Batman. Maybe he had some survival instincts after all.

“What?” Robin asked.

“His mom,” Tim said, pointing up. “She’s on the twenty-first floor. Room 2112.”

Robin turned to him slowly. Jason couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind the white lenses. His face was still, barely moving. “You haven’t seen your mom?” he asked.

Jason didn’t see why it was any of Robin’s business. Tim must have thought it made them more sympathetic though. He shook his head.

Robin’s face stayed completely still for thirty more seconds before deteriorating into a look of pure fury. Jason took a step back. He was about ready to grab Tim and run, but Robin said, “Stay here,” and jumped off the fire escape.

He’d just left them there. Did he actually think they’d stay? Jason immediately started back down the steps but stopped when he realized Tim wasn’t following.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. “Come on.” Tim just stood there looking at him confused. “Now’s our chance, you idiot.” He jumped up the steps two at a time to grab Tim’s hand and pull, but Tim pulled back.

“He said stay here.”

Jason had to remind himself that Tim had no idea how the world out here worked to keep himself from snapping. “This is our best chance to escape.”

“We’re just going to get in more trouble if we run!” He lowered his voice. “He’ll tell Batman.” He said it like Batman finding out was the worst possible scenario, and Jason was prone to agree.

Thanks for your interest! If you want to know about specific scenes, feel free to ask about them. I seriously had to scan through the first few chapters to remind myself of some of the earlier conversations. I was just saying earlier today that I should go back and reread everything. Some of this I wrote over a year ago. (which is crazy to think about)

[namjoons-fortune-cookie]

Childhood - Part 1

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Type: Story (¼)

Warnings: PG-13 (language and talk of crime)

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

From as long as you can remember, Jason and you have been a team. Inseparable since you were young. It was hard for you to remember a specific time where he wasn’t there. Good people were always hard to find in a city filled with crime, especially at crime alley. When it came to where you both lived, both of you were picked the short straw. Neither of you had wanted to live in crime alley, what kid would. As kids, you were both used by your own parents for whatever suited them. From stealing to hiding drugs, you both endured your parent’s problems.

That brings us to today. A matter of events that brought you two to run for your lives.”Hey! Stop you little shits!“

“Jason hurry!” You say running ahead of him and jumping through the ajar window. You begin to lift the window up for Jason to crawl through. 

He lifts one foot through but before putting the other foot in, he’s grabbed by the officer, "Got you you little asshole!‘ 

You pull on his arm trying to make the officer let go of him. The officer hangs onto the boy with a death grip but you wrap your entire body around the boy to keep him from moving. The man begins to try and push you off the boy. He moves his hand close to your face and you bite him, hard.

The officer lets out a scream as you spit out some skin that you had bitten off. You pull Jason and he slides through the window. The window slams shut and you can hear the muffled screams of the officer. Jason lands on top of you and you let out a wheeze.

“Jason get off me!” You say pushing him off. You get up and grab his hand running through the building. You hear the cops outside coming down the street,"Hurry Jason! We’re almost there!”

"Right behind you!” He pants out.

The sirens get louder as you near your location. “Open up!” You scream hoping that someone inside would hear you.

You run faster and up to the door banging on it as hard as you can. Come on open up, you thought to yourself. Less than a second later Jason is by your side yelling to let you both in. Suddenly the door opens and you both push your ways in the building.

You collapse onto the ground for a moment, out of breath from the experience. You knew what happened to the kids on crime alley when they were caught, they were beaten and thrown in jail. Some never coming back out. You didn’t want that to be you or Jason.

Someone grabs you by your shoulders and sits you up,”The hell you doing here kid?”

You can’t find the right words. It turns out you didn’t have to when you hear a loud banging coming from the door. “Open up! GCPD!”

“Shit,“ you say and get back up, “they found us” 

"You two get downstairs, tell Marco I sent you.”

You grab Jason and pull him towards the basement. You run down the stairs skipping steps to get there faster.“Marco!”

You reach the end of the stairs and turn to see the gang leader who’s had a hand in raising you. The men turn around to meet the two of you before Marco says, ”(Y/N), Jason!“

The man comes up to both of you and ruffles your hair, “What brings my two favorite kids here today?”

“Cops,” you say catching your breath,“upstairs.”

Marco looks at you and then looks up the steps,"Well, then let’s go handle it.”

Marco and the rest of his gang walk up the stairs leaving you and Jason alone. You let out a sigh of relief and take a seat putting your head in your hands,”Why’d you bring us here?”

You turn your head to the unsatisfied boy. You sigh,”You expect us to run home?“

“I didn’t expect you to run to a gang.”

“Jason, you really think our parents would help us out of this situation? They wouldn’t even realize we were home! What else was I supposed to do. Let the cops take you?”

Jason pauses and takes a seat next to you,“Jason, we have no one else to go to. You know Marco would help us out, he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to either of us.“

“He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to his successor.”

You pause for a moment, “Jason! We both agreed we weren’t doing this crime thing. We just got to get enough money until we get out of here. K?”

Jason sighs, "You’re right.”

You pause and then chuckle, ”I’m sorry what’d you say? Can you say it a little louder?“

He pushes you and laughs. You rest your back on the couch. Push him back lightly and he winces. You turn to him and grab his arm, moving his sleeve up. You see a bruise starting to form on his arm. The outline of the hand still present, “Jason.”

“Yeah?“

“Let’s never do this again.”

He looks down at you and nods. You lay on his shoulder,“One day you’re gonna get out of here. I know it.”

You begin to fall asleep and Jason laughs. You let sleep take over you and the boy looks down at you in admiration.

After that night both you and Jason were on a clean streak. No more crime from either of you. You both started out confident in yourselves but then after a while it became harder to go on. No crime meant no money. You were both too young to get jobs and so you were left with a few scraps each. By the end of the month it was a miracle you both survived.

“Jason what are we gonna do?“ You say one morning.

He pauses for a moment, “I have no idea. Just, just trust me okay? I got this.”

You nod and Jason leaves you in your complex. You sigh and lay down in your bed before drifting back into a deep sleep.

It had been five hours since you had last saw Jason. No one saw where he went or what had happened to him. You ran through blocks looking for him. You called out his name hundreds of times but received no answer, “Jason!“

You yell for the boy as you wander down crime alley. Your hope to find him was diminishing. You let out tears as you walked down the street. He was no where to be seen, who knows what happened to him. You thought maybe it was the cops but you didn’t hear or see any of them around all day. You then thought he went stealing again, what if the victim got to him.

You turn the corner of crime alley and pause for a moment. You see none other than Jason knelt down next to a giant car. The car was big, classy, and expensive. You look to see Jason in the process of taking off the tires. I knew how much those tires would sell for just by looking at them. You look over to what Jason was looking at. You stand there shocked, Batman. Shit. You knew Jason was in big trouble now.

You looked at Jason and he noticed you behind the tall brooding man. You thought to yourself, what are you going to do now.

Before you could think your body was already moving as you jumped in front of Jason pushing the man back. He didn’t move an inch. You didn’t let this shake you. Instead you screamed, "Back off bat freak!”

You don’t know where that terrible insult came from but it was the only thing you can think of. The man says nothing. He picks you up and pushes you to the side of the boy. “You steal from people you have to pay the price.”

You try to move towards Jason as the man grabs his arm, “Please! STOP!”

You move more to get closer to Jason, kicking the man in the shin, “HE WAS STEALING FOR ME! He’s just a kid he doesn’t know what he’s doing! He’s a good kid, he’s smart and he wants to get out of this place! Please! Don’t take him to jail, he doesn’t belong with those people! Please!”

Tears stream down your face as the vigilante moves a bit backwards. You jump onto Jason and son into his chest, “Please, let him go!”

The man looks down at you and you look up at him with a beggar’s eyes. You feel as though something inside of him softens.

“I won’t take him to jail. But he will have to come with me.”

You look at Jason and he nods at the man. Brave. No fear on his face.

You look up to the vigilante, “Promise you won’t hurt him.”

He looks down to you, “Promise.”

You let him go towards Jason. You grab Jason’s hand and he gives you a reassuring glance.

“I’ll come back for you.“

A/N Oh shit y'all I posted bahahaha! IM BACK!! This is part 1 of a four part series. It’s gonna be good (hopefully) Sorry if theres any grammatical errors, I don’t have a lot of time to proof read sadly! I hope you guys like what I post. I’m always open for requests! Thank you for sticking around! Bye!