#jason todd/tim drake

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

I don’t think Jason has ever hated Tim

I recently revived my Jason Todd hyperfixation from its torpor and realized I had... Means and Ways of reading as many comics as I want for free, so I made the transition from Fanon Only to having read Lost Days, Under the Red Hood, Teen Titans #29 (where Jason fights and beats the tar out of Tim), Hush, Red Hood and the Outlaws (the majority of both runs), Red Robin: The Grail, Batman and Robin: Streets Run Red, Green Arrow #70 - #73 (where Jason kidnaps Mia), Battle for the Cowl, and a smattering of other bits and bobs, all within the last month.

I have come to the conclusion that the idea that Jason hated Tim before slowly learning to be okay with him is completely backwards.

Jason starts respecting Tim as a fellow combatant after basically their first meeting, and was sympathizing with him even before. Fandom talks a lot about how Jason repeatedly tried to kill Tim, but I think there’s a good argument to be made that actually Jason has never tried to kill Tim, and there’s a better argument that Jason has never tried to hurt Tim out of a dislike for him.

Tim is the one who feels viciously betrayed by Jason, hates his guts, and depending on if you blend in the New 52 either learns to begrudgingly like him or just stays hatin.

Obviously I need some proof here, since this goes completely against the grain of every relationship interpretation I’ve ever seen for them, so approximately seven miles of character analysis under the cut lmao

I’m gonna try to go in chronological order of the characters’ history here, which means we’re starting with Lost Days, and Jason’s first reaction to finding out there’s a new Robin:

This does not look like anger to me.

Lost Days is only six issues long, and this is the entirety of the pages devoted to Jason’s feelings on Tim. Jason succeeds in a plan that would have almost certainly killed Batman if Jason had gone through with it. Jason undeniably has Joker dead to rights at one point, but lets him go. Jason at no point in this story attempts to harm Tim at all.

Now for Hush.

Context for fanon only folks: this is where the “throat slitting” bit happens.

Context for a lot of confusion: I don’t know if Jason is the one who holds Tim hostage or not.

In the original Hush plot line this is only Clayface; Jason isn’t here at all. It was later retconned in Under the Red Hood that Jason was actually in this fight for... some amount of time. It’s highly unclear to me when they swap out. Probably because originally, they didn’t swap out. Oh well! In either case, it’s now canon that Jason coached Clayface on his acting, so for the purposes of this essay, Imma hold Jason responsible for the throat damages and the words said regardless of who did what!

Right off the bat: this is a hostage taking, not a murder. Yes, Clayson Jayface does nick Tim’s neck and absolutely makes the threat of murdering him to Batman, but it’s clearly a threat. Like, look at this panel:

He is talking a lot. This isn’t an attempt to kill Tim, it’s an attempt to screw with Batman. No matter who this is, they have every reason to expect that Batman will stop them before they do any permanent damage. Can you see that little, blurry, half-hidden line of red? Lets look at what the damage was later on:

The bleeding was stopped by a bit of cloth, some pressure, and he’ll need stitches eventually, but they can clearly wait, and Tim doesn’t seem alarmed. That’s enough to scar, and enough that it is perfectly reasonable for Tim to assume that he would have died if he hadn’t been rescued.

However, Jason being deeply protective of kids is a reasonably consistent character trait. “You really think I’m gonna bring the pain to a ten year old?” Even at Jason’s most villainous, he is willing to put himself in danger in order to protect his own sidekick Scarlet. I think it would be very out of character for him to have gone through with it. Combined with Jason’s later actions and the general fact that a hostage is pretty useless dead, I come to the conclusion that Jason was bluffing.

It is ambiguous though, and I admit that this is probably the weakest link in the “Jason never tried to kill him” chain.

But enough of that, was he angry with him? Is the hate there?

I argue no, and that really there’s no emotional investment in Tim at all. In terms of hard numbers the pages Jalay Toddface spends holding Tim hostage is 3 and the number he spends fighting Batman is 13 and the number of times he even so much as LOOKS at Tim is ZERO, like actually, literally ZERO TIMES. He does not spare poor Timmy a SINGLE GLANCE.

Now make a special note here because those three pages of no eye contact from someone who might not even be Jason are the ONLY times that Tim is called Pretender or Imposter.

I’m relying on this research done by Kiragecko: https://kiragecko.tumblr.com/post/128411908944/bat-sibling-interaction It only goes up to Battle for the Cowl, (as does this essay it turns out, I just don’t know how to bridge between that and the New 52) so it isn’t every interaction ever, but it’s still excellent research, go leave a like.

According to them: “Comments: Tim thinks about Jason a lot while he’s first training. He imagines the former Robins giving him pep talks, and uses them to fight off fear gas. When Jason comes back, though, Tim’s really nasty, especially in his head. Jason, however, is somewhat respectful. He usually calls Tim ‘Tim’, and seems to kind of like him. ‘Pretender’ and ‘Imposter’ are things that CLAYFACE said, not Jason.“

How many times are those said? Once. Each. That’s it. As a comment under the Jason and Tim post done by Kiragecko points out, “Replacement” doesn’t even get used.

Under the Red Hood is basically THE Jason Todd comic. To my memory he doesn’t interact with Tim in it. However, it does contain that aforementioned reconning! So we get to see his reasoning during this encounter.

And it very very clearly isn’t at all about Tim.

Moving on to Titans Tower, which is indisputably focused on Tim: When he fights Tim, he is absolutely violent and over the line, but he’s NOT out of his head. Jason is clearly very lucid and careful about what he’s doing.

Is he angry? Of course! He’s angry at the Titans who in his mind cared about him way less than their other members, and accepted a replacement robin as though his life, his whole flesh and blood self, was something that could be so easily forgotten and swapped out.

But I think it would be a mistake to assume that Jason’s at all mad that he isn’t Robin anymore.

A very interesting direct parallel to this fight is when Jason kidnaps Mia, Green Arrow’s sidekick Speedy, fights her, appeals to their commonalities and encourages her to solve crime his way rather than Green Arrow’s way.

In both scenarios Jason engineers a way to isolate a sidekick and attempts to teach them something through combat. He makes a direct appeal to them against their mentors, and seems genuine about what he’s saying. He also lets both of them live, and with Mia is honestly pretty damned polite about it all. At least, as polite as a guy can be about kidnapping you and encouraging you to try to kill him in your high school gym that he definitely should not know about.

The plain fact of the matter is that Jason knocked Tim out, had time to paint his whole ass name way up high on a wall, and did not kill him. This is the same Jason who just prior to that took out all of Tim’s allies non-lethally. The same Jason who kept Mia’s protector’s busy non-lethally. The same Jason who cuts Mia free and gives her weapons back and starts slow in their fighting to make sure he doesn’t hurt her too badly. The same Jason who seems to feel very strongly that killing, trafficking, or selling drugs to kids is an unforgivable offense and very clearly sees Tim as a kid.

Quite frankly, this reads not like a murder, and not like a jealous beatdown, but an attempt to convince Tim that he’s going to get himself killed and needs to get out while he still can. In Jason’s mind before they meet, Tim is purely A Robin, a kid who deserves better than to be put into danger against the same monsters over and over again until he finally slips up and dies.

Is this a hairbrained and back asswards way of doing that? Yes! But it does track for someone who tries to do all of his talking through his actions, which do speak louder than words, but unfortunately C-4 loudness is not actually a significant boon to nuanced communication.

If you want to put it in a less charitable way (and maybe we should, this is a bonkers asshole move on Jason’s part no matter how you slice it) then we can say Jason is testing Tim, trying to see if this one has what it takes to be better than he was, to survive where he couldn’t. Personally I think it’s a mix of both, and for this end of that emotional mess: Tim passes the test.

Jason leaves while talking about Tim in present tense, showing that he has every expectation of Tim being alive, and praises him in the process:

Did you know that the fun panel of Tim kicking Jason in the nuts is actually from the same comic run, about twenty or so issues later?

Did you know that the argument they were having starts with Dick and Tim wrestling with Jason and accusing him of a murder he did not commit, and in fact tried to save the victim from?

Did I mention yet that the death in question was of Duela Dent, aka the JOKER’S DAUGHTER, whom Jason caught attempting to hold a young woman hostage for ransom? And that Jason repeatedly shot her getaway balloon instead of her and then tried to save her life immediately afterwards despite the fact that she was going to let the hostage plummet to their death? And it is implied that part of the reason he’s so easy on her is because of “Once a Titan always a Titan” loyalty, with this being our first clue that Jason isn’t the one shooting at her anymore?

Did I also mention that he comes to her funeral in part to be around Donna (the starry leotard lady whose statue he smashed) because it’s nice to be around people who understand being displaced by their own death? And that the one who sticks up for him in this scene is Donna?

At risk of negating my own thesus here, I’d say it’s reasonable to think that maybe Jason feels rage-hate for Tim in this “kicked in the dick while Dick grins smugly” moment.

Lets go now to Robin #177 at the tail end of the 1993 to 2003 run - Bruce has “died” and Tim hasn’t yet gone on his epic quest to find him. Tim finds Jason unifying street gangs with the intent to bring them under control and solve the current crisis. He appeals to Tim for help with this, in fact he comes off as almost puppy dog eager to work with him, and seems really sad when he says fuck no.

This is one of the first fights in which Tim really holds his own against Jason, and I am very proud of him, yes :3

This gets Jason arrested. Then Tim actually goes through with a heavily modified, less violent version of Jason’s plan that Jason didn’t think could work. A few issues later, when Tim decides that he’s going to try to honor what Bruce would have wanted by springing Jason out of jail, Jason makes note of that.

Jason is pretty damned civil at their next meeting, even though Tim makes it pretty damned clear he doesn’t want him around.

And now... we have to talk about Battle for the Cowl.

I’ve seen it described as a masterclass in how NOT to write Jason Todd, due to it portraying him as being an absolutely off his rocker anger murder violence man. I am inclined to agree.

In this three issue comic Jason Todd has been dRiVeN mAd (in the most bullshit comic sense of that word) by Bruce’s will... telling him to go to therapy. Yeah. So uh, he dons a Batman suit to shoot people in AND pretends to be Black Mask so he can enslave a bunch of villains Amanda Waller style, and like it gets weird from there. It is an extremely jarring transition from that last scene to GUNS BAT HATE MAN.

He still does not hate Tim in it. I really, seriously thought I was going to have to make a lot of excuses for this portion but then the more I read of it the more vindicated I was cause let me repeat: One of the most unhinged with Bat hate and crazy juice versions of Jason ever put to print does not hate Tim at all.

Hell, he likes Tim! He compliments him!

And on top of that, even though he is MUCH more lethal against his fellow robins when they attack him - Jason straight up shoots a ten year old Damian in the chest. It’s fucked. - There is still evidence to suggest that Jason deliberately didn’t kill Tim when he had ample opportunity.

Jason first of all never hunts Tim down. I’ve heard Battle for the Cowl described as Jason tracking Tim down or kidnapping him or going after him to force him to Be His Robin, but that’s just not how it goes.

Instead he waits for Tim to come find his Batcave, disorients him, and goes for a ton of surface cuts. He only actually goes for a real body blow after Tim picks up a crowbar and beats Jason across the face with it a few times.

(Again, proud of you Timmy)

After the stabbing, Jason doesn’t just leave Tim there; this isn’t a matter of hurrying on before he could check. He’s seen dragging Tim off. When Nightwing later comes to rescue him, Dick is downright certain Jason is lying to him about Tim being dead because Jason is refusing to show him the body and Dick figures it’s because he knows there’s no body to show (if in part because he can’t let himself believe Tim is dead without hard proof).

Tim himself wonders about this, noting that the batterang was rusted and shattered on his armor.

Sure, Tim used playing possum to make his pulse slow to a near stop for a while, maybe that fooled Jason, but keep in mind that BRUCE taught Tim that skill, and if there’s one thing these comics have established, it’s that Jason is dangerous precisely because he is so intimately familiar with the techniques of the Bat. Jason even makes specific note of the fact that Tim being trained like Bruce and fighting like Bruce would be his downfall at the beginning of their fight.

The whole comic leaves me wondering just how much of what happened went completely according to Jason’s plan. I really would not put it passed him to engineer a ‘death in the family’ recreation for the next Batman in line! As much as I agree that this is garbage characterization for him in many many ways, I do think Jason makes a fantastic villain. I love to see him run rings around the Bats in some places, and make lemonade out of getting his ass kicked in others.

No matter how we interpret the stabbing here though, what does seem very clear to me is that Jason makes the Be My Robin offer to Tim first and foremost because he thinks pretty highly of Tim! He’s been rejected by Tim at least three times over but keeps holding a hand out for him. This does not seem like Tim hater reaction hours here!

Also that whole thing about kids being dragged into this vigilante life irresponsibly? Yeah that’s still there!

I have TRIED to find evidence that Jason hates Tim at like literally any point here. I have gone through the shit people point to. I have looked at the context around those and dug up more obscure interactions for second and third views. Everywhere I look I just see more instances of Jason complimenting Tim!! It’s driving me nuts!

The only conclusion that I can come to is that people read this stuff and just trust that Tim is right about Jason. Tim’s internal view waaay more closely resembles fandom interpretation. Tim assumes that Clayson Toddface would absolutely have killed him in cold blood, that Jason beat the shit out of him purely to prove he was stronger, that he’s a brute, a moron, an active danger to society, and that every bit of leniency given to him will result in betrayal and death.

I don’t have clearer proof for it, but I also don’t think it’s a stretch to say that Tim probably believes Jason has it out for him and holds him responsible for his replacement.

So yeah. As a fascinating reversal of my expectations going in: I don’t think Jason has ever hated Tim, but boy fuckin howdy has Tim HATED Jason.

[thesuninperigee]

(source)

[sp-anotherbrickinthewall]

Jason and Dick became birbs.

other jaytim doodles

[smittywing]

Not Just Cannon Fodder

I finished a thing!

[lady-hallowtide]

Jason Todd and Tim Drake <3 artwork once again by the brilliant @natash-shhh <3

[cruciomysoul]

anyway after 5 years I returned to writing JayTim fanfic soooooo

The Library of Kind Souls.

[redflagromance]

For the sheer fun of it, we wrote some DC Kinktober content. Please enjoy!

STRAY CAT SLINK

This is a multichapter work, so far with content for days 1, 3, and 4 of Kinktober. Used prompts are Leather and Latex, Roleplay, and Lap Pillow.

Summary:

Tim Drake is the first to put together that the Red Hood is Jason Todd, who he had been totally normal about most of his formative years. So normal. He can't leave him alone. He's doing this to help him, promise.

Meanwhile, Jason Todd is just over his head with a crush on this horrible little cat.

Story is rated E but content so far is only up to T or maybe M. Chapter 4 will earn that E rating.

Read it here!

GET EVEN (AND MAD)

This is a story for day 2, prompt Boot Kink, rated E.

Summary:

Tim comes to Jason asking for help tracking down Batman in the timestream. Jason has a counterproposal. One of them is over their head, really fast.

Read it here!

[electrasev5nwrites]

Jason/Tim soulmate au. Part 1/? AO3 is still down and I wanted to work on the update for this so I figured it might make sense to post here. We are all waiting for the site to come back up so maybe someone wants to read. This is multiple chapters condensed into one post, it didn't let me add the whole document but the fic stands at about 15,000 words rn.

Tim woke up in a cold sweat, panting and disoriented. He stared at the shadows moving on his wall for a moment to acclimate.

There had been nothing that night. No dreams. Tim had just laid down at night and woke up in the morning with a blank space stretching in between.

That was, he figured, a pretty good metaphor for his life in general.

That was the weirdest Sunday of his life. He wandered around his house in a daze. It felt like the color had been ironed out of his life. But at that point, he thought that something was wrong with him.

He didn't actually worry about his soulmate until the second night it had happened. His dreams were often hard to get a handle on. When he'd been little it had been hunger and pain and a demented carnival of ugly adult faces, dirty alleys and a brown sofa that meant safety. For a golden year, the dreams had been of free fall and neon lights, bleeding knuckles and French food and a library.

Tim splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His stomach twisted with a fear that he wouldn't think about. Dreams, he thought, were not the most practical soulmate connection. He wondered what he gave his soulmate back. He didn't think he was enough of an open book asking to be loved to be a name on a wrist, but he probably wasn't emotionally rich enough to be passing on dreams.

"Not that this life isn't worth seeing at night," Tim scoffed wryly. He slung his backpack over a shoulder and drank juice out of the container. He shoved a poptart in his pocket and stumbled out the door to catch his bus.

He ate the poptart on the bus, hunched over so that the driver wouldn't yell at him for leaving crumbs. They landed on his pants.

With a sigh he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The rocking of the bus lulled him back to sleep. Tim welcomed it. Maybe this would fix whatever had gone wrong in the connection, like turning a computer off and on again.

He woke up again without seeing anything.

By the time he got to school, he had worked himself into a panic. He chose to be late to first period in order to go to the library to find a reference about soulmate troubles. The teacher gave him a disapproving look when he slipped in, but let it pass without comment.

He was sneakily looking at the header "signs your unmet soulmate has died" when the morning loudspeaker announcement started.

"I have some sad news for you today," said the Principal.

Tim closed his book and looked up. The homeroom teacher was frowning slightly, looking around the classroom. He didn't seem to know where this was going.

"Over the weekend we've had a loss."

He felt his back tense.

"It is with the heaviest of regrets that I must inform you that 3rd year student Jason Todd-Wayne has passed away. The school counselors welcome anyone who would like to talk about this. I understand that…"

It became white noise to Tim. Students around him were reacting with gasps and whispers. He leaned forward and put his face into his hands, reeling.

This was a bad way to find out that Robin had been his soulmate. Too late to do anything about it, and with no way to prove it.

The next months were manic. Batman went off the rails. Tim did, too. He traveled to Bludhaven and begged the first Robin to come back. He stayed up for days on end and then he crashed and lost 20 hour stretches of time to the void of dreamless sleep. He was late to school and sleeping on the bus. He was confronting Batman and stealing a Robin costume and taking his soulmate's old role as the guiding light to Batman's self imposed darkness.

He didn't tell anyone about his connection to Jason. It felt like a lie even if it was true. It felt like something he would be saying to ingratiate himself and make them love the cuckoo in the nest.

Tim regretted that when the dreams came back 6 months later.

"Maybe they were in a coma?" Dick suggested, not without sympathy. He reached out to ruffle Tim's hair. Tim ducked unsuccessfully. "I would have thought they were dead, too, but the dead don't come back."

Tim fidgeted. There was a heaviness in Dick's voice that probably meant Jason.

That was awkward, since Tim had been sure that Jason had been his soulmate.

'I should have said that months ago.' Tim was kicking himself for that. 'It sounds so messed up now. I'll give Dick nightmares if I tell him I think Jason crawled out of his grave and then didn't even come here.'

Well. It was worth saying even if it wasn't about Jason.

"I hope this isn't too much information," Tim said, "but last week I dreamt about digging my way out of the ground. With a belt buckle."

Dick looked a little ill.

"That sounds like…" he trailed off, because it felt crazy to say. It sounded like his soulmate was a zombie? A zombie whose dreams had been of the suffocating dirt and bleeding fingers, and then beeping. Endless beeping and the harsh likes of fluorescent lights overhead.

It sounded like his soulmate was in the hospital, Tim had to admit. The grave thing was probably some kind of vivid nightmare.

"It sounds like a terrible dream," Dick sympathized. Tim let Dick pull him into a hug. "Have you tried reaching out? Maybe your mark on your soulmate is one of the more literal kinds."

"I can write on myself in marker and see what happens," Tim said. "But I don't think that's it."

Dick huffed against Tim's hair. "You're not that easily read, no," he agreed wryly. "And I guess it won't help you reach out if marks on you echo onto your soulmate."

Tim thought about it. "Not unless we can bruise me in a coherent message," he decided. "Technically it could work? Cutting a note would be easier but if it scarred that would be embarrassing. So, bruising. It would have to be something simple, though, and they might get mad about it-"

"We aren't bruising or cutting a message into you," Dick cut him off. He shook Tim lightly. "Precious baby bird. Delicate cargo."

"Bruises like banana," Tim offered practically. He was thirteen now, he was definitely old enough for the soulmate connection to go both ways.

Dick extended his arms to frown at Tim from a distance, tilted his head, and then picked Tim up to whole body toss him on the sofa and roll him into a protesting blanket burrito.

"Police brutality!" Tim hollered.

Someone opened a door. "Alfred, stop him!" Tim shouted. "Help." He wiggled and nearly fell off the couch. Dick caught him.

"Hey, Bruce," Dick said stiffly.

The door closed. Tim was a burrito until time for dinner.

Dick was gone on a doubtlessly tense patrol with Bruce and Tim was ready for bed by the time he realized he'd been deliberately distracted. He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Maybe he's right. It's probably… It's not a dead boy that came back."

He tried to sleep. He really did. The sick thought that maybe he was hallucinating the dreams because he wanted Jason to be back wouldn't leave him alone.

"I wouldn't want that for him." Tim tossed and turned to mumble directly into his pillow. "That would be terrifying. Waking up in his grave, alone. I don't want that for him," he insisted.

He felt guilty and generally bad. He got up, left Drake manor, and went to the Batcave to wait.

He didn't end up sleeping, so he should have just gone on patrol anyway, Tim groused internally. Bruce and Dick didn't agree when they got back, but he thought they were secretly relieved he was there to yell at instead of working out their irritation with each other.

He moved like a zombie through his morning routine and dredged up the smallest amount of energy for his semester finals.

Life stretched out that way. Tim avoided sleep as much as he could. When he did sleep, he never liked the dreams. The hospital turned to a nightmarish litany of blood and death and crying in the dark.

He eventually gaslit himself into believing he'd imagined his soulmate dying. Tim felt vaguely ashamed when he thought about it. He was a creep. He'd fixated on Robin so hard that he'd convinced himself his soulmate was the dead Robin.

'I hope I never meet my soulmate,' Tim thought on his 14th birthday. 'They deserve someone better.'

The dreams turned to busy urban streets, ticking bombs, guns, and a green haze. Tim was optimistic that this was better than the crying, but he was still concerned. He'd do a welfare check if he knew who they were.

'Maybe that's why I'm Robin,' he thought wistfully. 'Maybe I need to save them.'

Eventually, there was a new criminal in town, and he had Bruce and Dick at odds. At first they fought viciously over whether or not Red Hood's methods were effective. Later they fought over the same thing they always did: who was in control.

"I'm not saying I'm fine with the murder!" Dick threw his hands up in disgust. "I'm just saying that crime rates are down, the city is safer right now."

"Crime rates are down, except for all the people who've been murdered." Bruce didn't even look at Dick. "Murder remains a crime."

Tim did his level best to become smaller. Maybe if he didn't move at all, they would forget he was there.

"You know what I meant," Dick shot back. "It's not that black and white, Bruce. He's trying to get the crime under control. I think we should seriously consider whether or not the situation is more stable with him in it or not."

"He's a mass murderer," Bruce said. "I want both of you to stay away from him." It was an order.

Dick made a sound of disgust and stomped up the stairs. "Why would I seek him out?" He shouted over his shoulder. "I don't live here. I'm going home."

Batman looked at Robin.

Tim put his hands up. "I'll leave him alone," he agreed. It was easy. He didn't want to get near the Red Hood. He thought both of them were right: the city was safer now, and the Red Hood was a mass murderer. That was out of Robin's league.

Bruce grunted and turned back to the computer, apparently satisfied that at least someone was listening to him.

JASON I

"Cover that shit up." Dad looked at him with disgust. "You're being dramatic."

"I'm not." Jason muttered it, but Dad still heard and gave him a dangerous look. He put his hands up.

"Don't show your mother." The door slammed.

Jason was left alone to poke at the bruise.

It looked bad. It spread all over his left knee and mottled down his shin. It should hurt. It didn't, because it wasn't his bruise.

He smoothed a hand over it.

"I wonder what kind of person you are."

It probably didn't mean anything healthy if you were the type who only left your hurts on your soulmate, Jason decided. Probably meant you couldn't communicate your needs. It seemed like a particularly plaintive soulmark. Like it was silently asking for help.

He stripped off his shorts and tossed them on the chair. He dragged out a pair of jeans and pulled them on even though it was hot as hell out. It was easier to pretend they were his bruises. He didn't want to share anything from his soulmate with his Dad.

Over the years, he didn't actually get that many secondhand bruises. The first time he saw the gaping impression of a cut without any blood around it he felt vaguely ill, but it was only a scrape.

"Maybe she's a skater," Jason thought aloud. "It's always knees and elbows."

He liked that thought. He liked the simple, innocent marks he got. He hoped that he didn't leave the same type of soulmark. If he did, he'd be passing on black eyes and hangnails and blisters that popped and got infected on his feet from shoes that didn't fit. It made him feel dirty, diseased, like he'd taint his soulmate.

When he looked at the needle marks on his Mom, he had to push down a thought that was much uglier than even the shame.

Years later, his soulmate may as well have been a ghost. Jason poked at his arm in class with a mechanical pencil as if that could prompt his soulmate to give a sign of life.

'Probably quit skating,' Jason thought. He flicked his pencil back and forth.

Of course he wanted to know who it was. But it would happen eventually, right? And now that he was Robin he had something else to live for. He stopped checking for bruises and scrapes.

One day after peeling off the costume, he was surprised that the dirt he tried to scrub away from his upper arm was actually a soulmate bruise.

He'd actually forgotten. Jason stopped for a moment. He'd forgotten about his soulmate. What kind of person did that make him? Something strange churned in his gut.

Bruce eyed him. "What happened there?" He pointed.

"Nothing." Jason said too quickly and covered the bruise with his hand. It was private.

Bruce looked massively unimpressed. "Show me, Jason," he sighed. He loomed closer like the great honking bat he was.

Jason scowled at him. "It's nothing," He complained.

"Then why are you trying to hide it?" Bruce grabbed his arm and lifted it, squinting at the bruise. He paused. His expression and tone went painfully neutral. "This looks like a hand."

Jason blinked. "Huh." He twisted to look at it. "It does," he agreed, honestly surprised. It took a moment for the penny to drop. "It looks like an adult's hand." He reeled at that. His soulmate couldn't be much older than him, right? Who was dragging them around hard enough to bruise?

They were silent for a moment. He knew Bruce was thinking back through recent patrols, trying to figure out when Jason could have been manhandled.

"It's not my bruise," Jason said suddenly. This was private, but- he wanted his adult to know this. He felt- he didn't know how he felt, but it was a lot.

Bruce paused. "Ah."

The air felt heavy.

"Do you get a lot of those?" He was still using that careful tone. Jason hated it. It was too cautious, it was like he thought Jason needed special handling.

"I haven't noticed bruises for years." Jason yanked his arm away and huffed. He straightened his back and reported like a Robin ought to. "I don't remember anything that raises red flags. Scrapes and bruises on elbows and knees. I assumed they skate or something."

Bruce made a sound of acknowledgement. He let Jason pull back. Slowly he raised a hand and ruffled Jason's sweaty hair.

"Gross." He complained without any heat in it.

He made a note of it. He harbored the quiet ambition that he wanted to save his soulmate. He was Robin for a brief shining moment, and then he was choking on hot blood while a clock ticked and a clown laughed and it hurt, it all hurt-

Fin.

He woke up in oppressive silence after the end. He screamed and banged until his fingers bruised to the bone. He begged with gods he didn't believe in. He tore his belt buckle off, broke through the coffin (oh god, he was in a coffin, oh god, why had they left him here?) and he used the buckle to dig through dirt and he was suffocating on it, it was in his lungs and it hurt so bad, he was sobbing and praying and he burst out into the rain slimy and newborn, filthy and alone. Alone.

He lost time. He lost a lot of time.

He woke up again. He was bigger now, and he fought for every inch of freedom under Talia's fist. His body was alien to him now. It was huge and muscular, powerfully framed in a way that a boy who grew up hungry shouldn't end up. He felt like a hulking monster. He'd died a boy of 15 and he woke up somehow 18. Frankenstein's monster was cheated out of childhood.

The shadow injuries did not help with the way he felt about his body. The paint job on his ribs and limbs changed daily with ugly bruises and scrapes and gashes that didn't hurt him at all.

He learned to ignore them. He didn't think about them. He was too feral to remember what they meant, and when he did remember, he was too wild to care. His soulmate was having a worse time than he remembered but it wasn't his concern now. He'd never find them. He'd died. Surely they'd given up. Surely they were meant for the boy who had died and not the thing that had crawled out of his grave. He didn't get a soulmate.

Jason didn't take that part too hard.

He didn't get a lot of things. He didn't get to graduate high school. He didn't get to grow up. He didn't get to be loved.

But Batman didn't get to replace him. He didn't get to put someone else in the costume Jason died in, like none of it really mattered, like he wasn't Bruce's son once.

He went back to Gotham, the shithole that birthed him and spat him into the jaws of a monster, and he became honest in his own monstrosity. He put heads in a bag and bullets in faces and an ultimatum to Bruce and eventually, he put old pass codes into Titan Tower.

Part 2

JASON 2

Titan Tower was worse than he'd ever guessed. Cyborg and Beast Boy and Raven were easy to take out for the count. It was all kinds of fucked up that they were still there. He'd died and nothing had changed for them. He felt even further away from his body than usual.

A sick curiosity led him to the Hall of Heroes. He wished it hadn't. He wished he could burn out the knowledge that they really hadn't cared at all.

"There's no statue of the last Robin." His voice echoed. It sounded hollow to his own ears, but the voice modification in his helmet smoothed out the hurt.

The replacement blinked at him without comprehension. He snatched up his weapon. There was fear and confusion on his face, but not nearly enough. He didn't even know how unprepared he was.

'Isn't that how it fuckin goes,' he thought, not very sympathetic.

"They'll probably put one up for you." It was more bitter than Jason meant it to be.

The replacement's eyes widened at the threat.

God, it hurt. It was so unfair. He'd died and no one cared. He'd died Robin and they'd disliked him so much that they didn't even add him to the creepy hall where they honored dead kids in suits. And this little fucker in his uniform didn't even know that the real owner had come knocking.

Jason leaned into the sharp comfort of the Pit. It lapped up to wash away the rough edges of his emotions. It was the only way he got through with his plan. Without the Pit, he would have given up, gone home, and either drank himself to sleep or shot someone in the head. Possibly himself. But the green light kept him on track. He didn't hurt anymore.

He gave the replacement his chance. The little fucker ran, and tried to reason and weasel his way out of things. And then he screamed. Jason was too far away to hear his begging and feel pity. The green wrapped him in an icy blanket of clarity. It felt good, even.

He let the Replacement try to fight him and countered his attacks until the cuckoo got tired out. Jason was indomitable. He was tireless.

Couldn't say the same for spoiled little Timothy Drake.

When Replacement Robin got tired enough for the despair and hopelessness to set in, Jason ripped away the bo and bashed him in the face with it. The replacement tried to duck away and block. He only succeeded in catching part of the blow on a hand as well. Bones cracked.

Replacement Robin hit the floor with an agonized howl. He spat out blood but he got up fast.

Jason kicked him in the ribs. He fell down again. Jason grinned behind his helmet and brought the bo down in a savage line onto the ribcage again. Replacement didn't get up fast that time.

"You're not doing very well," Jason said, faux sympathetic, and stomped on Drake's shin. That netted him an agonized convulsion. Drake banged his own head into the wall.

Jason laughed and took a few steps backwards, checking the angle of the closest camera to see if Bruce would be able to see all of that.

He noted movement on the floor. He looked down idly to see the Replacement pulling himself along on one elbow and a hand.

"Why are you doing this?" It was barely a gasp. The replacement looked pitiful, dragging his broken leg behind him on the floor. Jason followed at a leisurely pace. The replacement was trying to get to an alarm system. Jason would let him get close enough for hope.

This was going to hurt Bruce so much more than the batmobile explosion would have, Jason mused. This was the correct choice. Bruce was going to watch this security footage on repeat and hope against hope that this time, little Timmy made it to the emergency alarm. And he never would.

Belatedly, he answered the doomed little bird. "Why does anyone do anything?" He asked rhetorically. Then he huffed out a dry laugh. "You're not as smart as you're supposed to be, replacement," he crooned. His tone went sickly sweet. He was copying Talia unconsciously.

"Why are you calling me that?" Not-Robin twisted to confront Jason dead on, face screwed up in pain and stubbornness.

'Come on. It's obvious. Haven't you ever heard of context clues before?'

He lost his patience. "Who am I?" He demanded. He itched with the impulse to unload a bullet in the little nitwit. One hand twitched towards his gun and settled on a knife instead.

"I don't know." The replacement was staring at Jason's empty hand like it was a revelation. A disbelieving smile crept across his face.

Aww. He'd cracked.

Jason kicked the little fucker in the ribs. The bastard curled up into a pathetic ball and choked.

"You should know," Jason seethed. "You stole everything from me. You should take off that suit right now."

The younger boy was writhing, but he was clearly trying to uncurl and look at Jason. He managed to look just as Jason unsnapped his helmet and pulled it off.

"Who am I?" Jason demanded, wild with impatience.

"Oh." It was small and wavered.

For a moment he luxuriated in how shaky and broken the other boy's voice was. Then he saw the way the replacement's eyes were tearing up. "Don't cry," Jason said, disgusted. He casually lashed out and broke the other boy's nose with his boot. Blood spurted out and there was a crunch as the nose went sideways. "Robins don't get to cry, Robins just get to die. Don't you know anything?"

The replacement didn't even react. He was still staring like he'd finally realized he was seeing a ghost. Jason blinked, a little discomfited. He had to fight to keep the comfortable green haze in place.

"It's you," Drake said. He sounded relieved somehow, which was a fucking head trip.

Something in Jason's brain stirred to life, trying to direct his attention away from his mission. He felt uneasy. He pressed it back down.

He followed the Replacement's line of eyesight from Jason's face to his hand. Again? This time, Jason tried to see what the fuss was about. Huh. It had a nasty shadow bruise on it, and the impression of a violent break around the index finger.

"That's not your business." He knelt in front of the downed bird and grabbed him by his hair. He ignored whatever the Robin was trying to say and the broken fingers pawing weakly at his hand and chest. "It's time to wrap this up," Jason decided. "Night night, baby bird."

The replacement flinched, eyes big and wounded.

Jason took his knife and gouged a slice into the replacement's throat. The replacement convulsed and keened through wet bubbles. "Shush," he scolded. He wrapped his hand around the wound to gather up enough blood to fingerprint his message on the walls. It only took a moment. He cracked his neck as he stood and caught sight of his own reflection in a window.

He died a second time in the moments that passed. His vision whited out. He knew the replacement was gasping for life on the floor, futilely trying to stopper what would be a slow death, but he didn't hear any of it.

"No." He denied. His voice cracked.

The replacement's panting was getting weaker.

The monster in the reflection had ghost bruises on his left eye. Blood from his nose. Along his jaw, he had an abrasion from a boot. And on his throat there was the exact slice that Jason had just opened up in Tim Drake's delicate neck. If he took off his shirt he'd probably be black and blue with wounds he'd personally inflicted.

'I was supposed to save you.'

He stared, struck immobile with horror.

This, he realized, was the worst moment of his lives. He felt violently human. He wasn't a monster after all. It would have been safer to be a monster. A monster would feel nothing when confronted with what it had done.

Tim had known. Jason realized that belatedly. Tim had known who his soulmate was and that was why he'd been happy to see the bruise on his hand. He'd been happy.

And he'd been- he'd been sharing Robin's injuries with Jason, Jason had never been separated from Robin, Drake had included the pathetic dead boy and this was how Jason had repaid him.

Robins, Robins, the soulmate phenomenon had connected Robins.

He didn't remember the details of giving first aid, after. He just knew that he'd done it. Drake wasn't out of the woods. He'd need fluids and actual medical attention.

Jason fully came back to himself in his third best safehouse as he finished up a phone call to a nurse practitioner he could trust. She'd be over within ten minutes. He let the phone fall to the table and paced near the limp body he'd brought back.

He'd fucked up. Jason knew that now. He'd fucked up.

It didn't occur to him just how much it would freak Bruce out to see that beating on video and then watch him carry Drake out of the tower. He wouldn't have appreciated it even if he had thought of it.

TIM 2

"I feel shit," Tim croaked, as soon as he was conscious. It was as good as a cry for help, coming from him.

He didn't know where he was, but he was tucked into a bed. Constriction from bandages pressed into pretty much every part of his body he was aware of. His left foot was heavy with a brace, which was going to suck.

He tried to raise a hand to rub sleep out of his eyes. He managed a garbled shriek instead. His hand was mangled. It fell back to the bed and that hurt too.

The sound must have summoned someone. A shadow fell over his face. Tim looked up, expecting Alfred or Bruce or Doctor Thomas or even another Teen Titan.

Jason Todd stood in the doorway with a pale face and wide eyes. He looked like he was seeing a ghost. He also looked like he'd gotten his ass handed to him, with a massive black eye among other injuries.

Tim stared. His heart jumped in his chest.

'Those are my injuries. He did that to me. Those are my injuries on him, he's my soulmate and he's alive!'

Jason swallowed. Tim could see his throat move. Because he was alive.

"Yes!" Tim shouted. Then he had to cough. "I was right," he tried to say. It was incomprehensible. He needed to tell Dick immediately.

Jason hovered, hands stretched out but not brave enough to touch. "Easy."

"You're alive!" He did his best to sit up. It wasn't good. He found that one of his arms was okay, but lifting it tugged on something horrible in his ribcage.

"Stop that!" Jason panicked. "Lie down!"

Tim flopped down, grinning. "You're alive," he garbled out, and then had to pause and wheeze. He wanted to say, "And you saved me, why did you save me?"

He was cut off long before he had the oxygen to try saying that.

"Your ribs." Jason swallowed again. He squeezed his hands into fists. "You've got three breaks. I'll just- do you need anything?"

'I'm going to stay as long as he lets me,' Tim decided wildly. He'd just finally got his soulmate back. He was going to hang on as well as he could with four (?) broken fingers. 'I just need to get comfortable and tell Bruce where I am so he doesn't worry. And I'm thirsty, actually.'

Tim eyed his host and opened his mouth slightly. Jason leaned in to hear. "Iced coffee and a computer," he rasped. It was barely audible even to Tim.

Jason's expression went flat.

"I'm gonna be here for a while," Tim said practically. He tried to sit up again to get a better look at Jason Todd, at Robin. Again, it did not go well.

Then there was a warm hand on his chest keeping him down. "Stop bashing your stupid bird brains against the window." The frustration in the voice was muffled. He heard it like it was underwater.

Tim stared at the hand. It was big, with broad, flat nails. It had scars on the knuckles and a ghost bruise along the back.

He remembered that hand, curled around his own bo.

Tim didn't say anything. He couldn't.

The hand pulled back. He couldn't stop looking at it.

'Does he have the boots on?' He suddenly needed to know. It was suddenly very important to know.

"...kid?" Jason's voice was raspy.

It felt like there was a massive weight on his chest. He couldn't breathe.

Oh. It was a panic attack. Tim tried to put a hand on his chest and convulsed with the resultant pain because fuck, his dominant hand was ruined. The combination of broken ribs and a panic attack was bad. His breathing was ragged and ugly. His eyes teared over until the room was a blur.

When he managed to escape the cycle of wheezing because of pain and being in pain because of wheezing, the room was empty.

That was probably for the best.

Tim laid there, still and cold. He was too tired to think straight. He welcomed the lack of thought and feeling.

He still wasn't feeling much when Jason knocked on his door and cracked it open. His face was red from crying, Tim noticed, and then wondered if it actually was. Those weren't his tears, were they? He blinked slowly. He'd raise a hand to check his face, but he was capable of learning.

"Got an IV in you, but you need to eat." Jason avoided eye contact. "If I hold a straw up for you, can you drink broth?"

It took a while to process that he needed to answer. "Yeah," Tim croaked out. His voice was so reedy. He grimaced at the way it sounded high and childish.

He drank until he had to cough. Jason pulled it away and hovered for a moment until he remembered himself and took a step back. "That ok?" He asked, gruff.

Tim winced and nodded. "Yeah," he rasped. "Just hate that stuff."

Jason looked at the broth. He looked a little offended.

Oh.

"...Did you actually cook that?" Tim wondered.

"It's fine." Jason took the broth back. "Not beef broth, then. How do you want your liquid calories?"

"Coffee."

The disbelieving look he got back was more humanizing than anything else he'd seen yet. Tim's hindbrain relaxed a bit. No one who would hurt him would give him the "how are you still alive" look.

"I can do a smoothie." Jason offered. It sounded a little sullen.

"I don't really like fruits. Or vegetables," Tim said, just to see how far he could push this.

Jason's face was twisted in confused outrage now. Then he noticed that Tim was smiling. "Ha ha," he said darkly. "Last chance. Any allergies that your school doesn't know about?"

Tim eyed him judgmentally.

"Of course I did recon," Jason said. It was defensive.

Tim said nothing.

"Shut up." Jason slammed the bedroom door on his way out.

'Oh. A bedroom.' Tim looked around, curious. 'Is this where he sleeps?' It was maybe 10 ft by 12 ft, with off white walls and no decorations. There was a bed and a table. That was it. Tim frowned. 'Does he not know about paint?'

Jason was back in a few minutes with a green smoothie. It was delicious.

"It's alright," Tim said in an unconvincing tone, because petty revenge was all he had at this point. Now that he was thinking again he was pent up with aggression that needed a safe outlet.

Jason wasn't going to hurt him anymore. He was pretty sure. Otherwise, there wouldn't be any point in giving him medical care. But Tim wasn't confident enough in that assessment to outright try to fight Jason again.

'When I can move again, I'm going to kick his enormous ass,' Tim thought, grim and serious. 'He won't even fit in the uniform anymore. Why'd he ask me to take mine off? Batman is going to have to make him a new uniform.'

"I'm glad it's fine," Jason said, and it seemed genuine enough that Tim almost felt bad. He put the empty glass on the bedside table when Tim was done. "I need to check your bandages. Do you want the bathroom first?"

Tim did need to pee. And there was no possibility that he was going to sit up and walk on his own.

"If you pick me up, I'm going to scream and throw up," he said, because it was true.

Jason took a step backwards.

"But I also need to go to the bathroom," he allowed. Jason was just gonna have to deal with whatever that meant.

Jason looked a little green. "Awesome," he muttered. "That's just fucking fine, isn't it." He ran a hand through the weird white patch in his hair.

Oh. Lazarus pit. Tim put that together extremely late. But that was not supposed to be able to bring the dead back, it was kind of a misnomer, really, so how was Jason here?

He had a sudden realization. He did his best to keep it off of his face.

'I already know that's not what happened. He woke up in the grave, alone. No one helped him.'

Tim really did feel nauseous now. Actually knowing it was a fact and not a horrible nightmare- the phantom sensation of dirt underneath his nails and worms against his hands, muscles burning and lungs on fire-

Okay, so that was panic attack number two. That was kind of embarrassing. He thought he'd make it longer. He dissolved into another round of panting hysteria.

It must have been shorter this time. Tim managed to focus on the world again and found that Jason was there with a white knuckled grip on the nightstand. His other hand was pressing down on Tim's head, stroking his hair. He sounded utterly broken but he was repeating the kind of soothing nonsense that everyone used- "it's alright, shush, just breathe-"

Tim leaned into the sensation like a cat. It was something to ground him that didn't hurt at all.

He felt comfortably foggy again. Maybe the panic attacks were the best way to get through this, he thought. If he could only keep them coming at a steady rate, he could spend time around his soulmate. He cleared his throat.

Jason stopped talking immediately.

"Hey, Jason?"

He could hear the older boy swallow. "Yeah?"

"Can you help me to the bathroom now?"

Once that was done, he was grateful to lie back down. "How bad is it?" Tim rasped. He had to know. He had seen dark purple bruising on his hip when he'd pulled his pants down.

"How bad," Jason echoed. He took in a controlled breath. "Three broken ribs, like I said. Lotta bruising. Your right hand is fucked- 3 breaks and a sprain. Minor concussion, we think. And uh." He looked at Tim's neck. He stopped talking.

Tim wanted to see it. He wanted to take off the bandage and see how bad it was. His pulse jumped. "Show me," he demanded.

Jason looked at him with wide eyes. "What?" He spluttered. "Are you- if we take off the bandages, you're gonna start to bleed out again."

Tim rolled his eyes. "It'll have clotted by now," he said. "But fine. Show me on you."

Jason looked ill.

Tim didn't back down.

Jason let out a long, shuddering breath, and then tugged his hoodie down. The fabric moved enough that Tim could see a smooth line. No, he realized, fascinated and horrified. If he looked closely enough he could see the slight indentations where stitches were pulling at it. That was his cut.

He was shaking. "How deep is it?" His head was spinning.

"Not deep," came the answer quickly. "I hadn't intended…"

The answer trailed off. Tim filled in "to let you die quickly." He felt sick again.

"Any more questions?" Jason was making a really good stab at a calm, level tone. Haha, a stab.

"The plan wasn't to take me here." Tim said it like a statement because he was pretty sure he was supposed to die in Teen Tower.

Jason confirmed anyway. "No, it wasn't."

Tim nodded as briskly as he could. "And you changed your mind because…" he trailed off. He couldn't say it. He couldn't choke out the words "you're my soulmate."

"Because you're my soulmate, and I'm sorry." Jason broke eye contact. He swallowed. "That… that was a mistake."

Tim eyed him judgmentally. A mistake was getting salt free butter. Breaking into someone's private space and kicking them to bits was a bit more than a mistake.

Jason must have read that off his face. He huffed out a laugh without any amusement in it at all. He abruptly turned to face the door and ran his hand through his hair again, pulling at it. "What a nightmare," he said. It was meant to be to himself but Tim felt he was uniquely qualified to insert himself on that topic and he also felt like being a massive bitch after his brutal murder was described as "a mistake."

"That'll be a treat for me," Tim said snidely. "Maybe take sleeping pills tonight."

Jason swung to look at him with a new, horrified comprehension.

Tim almost felt bad about it. But he was the one who was probably going to rehash his own murder attempt from the murderer's perspective and deal with whatever that fucked up in his brain, so he glared back.

"Fuck," Jason said, strangled, and then he fled.

Chapter 3

Whatever Jason did, it didn't result in the anticipated nightmare for Tim. He woke up in a better mood than he could have expected. The blinking clock on the bedside said it was 7:14. Morning or PM? Tim didn't know.

It was funny that he'd started a lifelong habit of avoiding sleep because of an aversion to dreamless nights, but now he was relieved for one. Daylight with his soulmate was bad enough. He didn't think he could handle the dreams.

"I still feel like roadkill," Tim announced to his empty room. He flexed his fingers speculatively. No? Still not good? He'd try again in a few hours.

Something clattered in the next room. It sounded like a mug hitting a wooden table in haste.

'What even is this place?' Tim wondered. 'Can I make him take me to the living room? He's gotta have a TV, right?'

There was a knock.

"Come in," Tim called, because Jason was gonna either way and this way he could pretend it was his call.

The door opened and Tim got his answer as to why he didn't have a nightmare.

Jason just hadn't slept. Tim opened his mouth to say "you look like shit." He stopped himself at the last moment and shut his mouth with a clack.

Jason eyed him like he knew what Tim had been thinking. He had his hood up again. It hid the ghoulish colors on his throat and most of his messy hair, but it couldn't do anything for the hollows under his eyes or the massive bruising on his face.

'It's the massive bruising on my face,' Tim corrected internally, working hard not to feel sympathetic to his intended murderer. He tried very hard not to wonder what would have happened with the colors on Jason's face if he had died. He had two theories that inspired different flavors of existential horror.

"Good morning." Jason took just a step into the room. The part of Tim that was always waiting for the next fight noted that his balance was off. He swayed too much. "Breakfast first or bathroom?"

"Bathroom," Tim said, "but could I get a crutch? Eventually?"

Jason nodded without comment. "You can use it by tomorrow, maybe." He stepped to Tim's side as meekly as possible. It still sent his heartrate up.

'I hate this.' Tim gritted his teeth and pretended to be unaffected as Jason helped him sit up. 'I'm so pathetic right now. I haven't even contacted anyone yet. The Tower is trashed… People are probably wondering what happened.'

The bathroom experience was better not thought about too much. It's hard to have your dick out in front of another human being who you need to keep you from falling over. It was a new low, which really said something considering the hysterical depths Tim was familiar with.

Tim tried to mentally be anywhere but at the sink with Jason pressed up against him from behind, holding him up with one arm looped around his chest and using the other to carefully soap up his hands. His breathing was harsh enough to hear over the running water. Tim tried not to notice the weirdly nice sensation of fingers carefully massaging his hands. He was close enough that when he breathed in he was hyper aware that Jason saved way too much money on his body soap. His nose crinkled.

In the mirror, he saw Jason glance from his hands to his face and then back just as quickly.

Unfortunately, that brought Tim's attention to the thing he'd been trying the most to avoid: confronting his own reflection.

The bruises looked even worse on him than they did on Jason. Tim stopped breathing for a moment and swallowed hard.

He wouldn't have recognized himself if he saw a picture of this. He looked pathetic. The fact that Jason's t-shirt hung off his shoulder didn't help matters. He looked like an absolute urchin.

'When Bruce sees this, it's gonna speed the transition back to the real Robin. He'd never want me in the field after seeing this.'

It- Robin wasn't his, not if Jason was here, but it still hurt.

"Let's go," Tim barked. He knocked his shoulder back against Jason's chest and ignored the confusing combination of stimuli. His shuddering hindbrain liked the weight of Jason's muscles behind him. It didn't know that strength was the reason for the pain in every inch of his body.

Jason turned off the tap without a word. He pulled open a drawer to yank out a soft towel, patted Tim's hands dry, and then steered him out.

"I want to leave the bedroom," Tim demanded before he could be put back in bed.

That got a moment's pause. "Sofa's fine," Jason said, and then took him out of the bedroom.

The rest of the apartment was a small open plan. There was a two seat couch facing a mostly empty bookshelf, a partially open closet with a black gym bag visible inside, and a bizarrely well-stocked kitchen.

He didn't expect much. But this was still disappointing.

"You have a cookie jar and a stand mixer but you don't have a TV?" Tim complained. His hero worship for his Robin took a critical hit.

Jason deposited him on the sofa without complaint and pulled out a leg rest. "Any more interior decorating advice for my safehouse?"

"Paint it," Tim said instantly. "This room is white, too."

Jason rolled his eyes. "You're such a little shit," he muttered, and pulled a pillow out of a storage unit to prop behind Tim.

"You slept out here?" Tim said, incredulous and forgetting that he was pretty sure Jason had stayed up all night. "No way you fit."

Jason flinched.

Tim blinked. He deliberately didn't narrow his eyes or otherwise react. That comment had hurt Jason. Why?

"I curled up like a pill bug," Jason snarked. "Let my knees hang off. That ok with you?"

He wanted to snark back but he refrained. If he hurt Jason, he wanted it to be on purpose. Accidental damage wasn't his style. "Sorry," Tim said, looking away to disengage. God, Jason looked fucked up. "You said breakfast was next?"

"Even though it's nearly noon." Jason seemed happier to kvetch as he moved into his kitchen space. "Think you can handle scrambled eggs?"

"You have cheddar cheese for them?" Tim asked, hopeful.

Jason nodded. "And vegetables."

Tim sighed.

"Alfred must have a ball with you," Jason muttered to himself. "Pick at least two: white mushrooms, onion, scallions, bell peppers."

Tim picked out onion and bell peppers and tried to get comfortable while Jason scrambled eggs. He fidgeted, looking at his own knees. They weren't engaging enough to keep him from looking over at the back of Jason's head.

He was just so… big. Tim curled his toes in his socks and frowned.

'He wasn't like that before. He was one of the smaller guys in his year. Now he's bigger than Dick.' Tim frowned at him. 'Way bigger than Dick. He's stupid buff.' he shifted uncomfortably. 'I feel like a shrimp.'

Jason ducked his head down further, like he knew he was being glared at. Tim hastily redirected his attention to the tabletop. It was wood, like Tim had guessed from the sound of Jason putting down a mug. He craned his neck to look inside the mostly-empty mug, idly curious about what Jason had been drinking. It was dark- "Coffee?" Tim asked hopefully.

The sounds of chopping stopped and then picked back up at a furious pace. "Jesus Christ," Jason muttered. A few seconds later, the sounds of vegetable mauling stopped. Plastic crinkled.

Tim lifted his head like a dog. He couldn't see what Jason had gotten down from the cupboard, but he could smell coffee beans.

"Unbelievable," Jason muttered, shaking the bag. There was a click and then the whirring of a coffee grinder started up.

Tim could have cried. "I get coffee?" He demanded, over the sounds of beans grinding.

Jason swung around to give him a disbelieving look. He shook his head. "Yes." He rolled the bag back up and put it back in the cupboard. Tim absently marked where exactly coffee beans lived in the kitchen. He definitely couldn't reach that and he wasn't exactly in optimal condition to be climbing on counters, but surely he'd manage.

"No," Jason said sharply, wheeling around to point the onion in his hand at Tim. "No, you will not climb on my counters."

Tim eyed him levelly. He didn't say anything. He tried to look like a person who wouldn't dig around in a murderer's cupboards to steal coffee.

"You're a biohazard," Jason said. He narrowed his eyes.

Tim pursed his lips. "...Not as long as you did a good job bandaging me up."

Jason closed his eyes. He very audibly counted to ten in Spanish, then Korean.

Tim rolled his eyes and leaned his head back to ignore Jason by looking for shapes in the shitty popcorn ceiling. He ignored Jason that way so well that he actually dozed off. He woke up to the soft clink of a plate being sat down in front of him.

There was a huff.

He didn't really register it. Tim smacked his lips and opened his eyes slowly. It took a moment to remember where he was.

Jason was back in the kitchen, facing away. He leaned forward to grab something from the back of the counter. The motion pulled his sweatpants flat against his stupidly juicy butt. That was not a standard Robin butt.

In his sleepy haze, Tim had to be forgiven for checking his soulmate assailant out. He froze as soon as he realized what he'd done.

'That's normal,' he tried to convince himself. 'It's nature. It would be weirder if I wasn't into him at all.' His heart thudded in his chest. 'He's never going to hurt me again. He knows who I am now. And honestly I think he needs help. His life has obviously been really bad.'

Oblivious, Jason bustled over brandishing a napkin and a glass of iced water. "Food with water, and then the coffee. Do you want sugar or … well, there's no cream."

"Black coffee, thank you," Tim said primly, and gingerly started to eat with his non-dominant hand. He wasn't particularly dextrous. A bit of egg fell off his fork and bounced down off the sofa.

Wow. He was really doing all his training proud.

"Don't worry about it."

Tim glanced down at the mess. He tensed his jaw. He didn't say anything. When he was almost done with his food, Jason went off to the kitchen to pour the coffee. He set it down in front of Tim just as Tim put the fork down.

Tim snatched up the cup of coffee and cradled it like it was holy. He breathed in the steam. The first sip was heaven. He drank way too much on the second go. He felt a spark of fear that Jason would limit him to one cup. He needed another one. He knew that it was in his head but he felt better already, like his thoughts were clearer and he was more awake.

"We need to talk." Jason fiddled with his empty mug.

'Oh no, are you breaking up with me?' Tim mentally snarked. He wasn't quite bold enough to say it out loud. He shot Jason a suspicious glance over the rim of his cup.

Jason didn't look up. "Have you thought about where to go? I- I don't want you going back to Batman." The words came out strained. "I don't trust him, there isn't-"

"Where to go?" Tim echoed, not thinking about the batman comment at all. "I'm staying here, aren't I?"

That finally got his full attention. "You can't stay here forever," Jason said blankly.

Tim frowned at him. "Are you putting me out on the street injured?"

A muscle twitched visibly on his neck. He looked away. "That's the problem, isn't it?" Jason managed a level tone. "You can't possibly feel safe here."

Tim blinked.

Jason furrowed his brow. He appeared to be done talking.

"I don't think it'll be better anywhere else," Tim pointed out delicately. "And it's not like we have many places in common. Where else are we going to spend time together?"

Jason choked on nothing. "Spend time-" He knocked his knee into the table. "What are you talking about?"

Tim realized, in one mortifying moment, that Jason didn't care that they had a soulmate bond. At least, he didn't think it was reason enough to stick around.

Tim bit his lip. "Are… I see." He cleared his throat. "You don't want to?" He channeled Janet Drake and made his tone brisk and businesslike.

Horribly, the expression on the other boy's face turned to a kind of gentle pity. Jason looked him over. "Timothy," he said slowly, "I broke three of your ribs, your leg, and your face. No one is going to recommend that we try to make some kind of relationship."

"That's not your opinion, though," Tim pushed, desperate. "Do you want to never see me again?"

He didn't get an answer. Jason looked totally lost and incongruously young. Tim's heart twisted with sympathy. He wanted to reach out and touch. Just for Jason's sake, of course, not his. He curled his unhurt hand into a fist to keep it from moving.

'He's not that much older than me. He- he was less than 3 years older, and then he lost half a year, and I don't think he's exactly had normal development since then. The things I've seen in his dreams are depressing. '

Tim tried to keep the gentleness he felt off his face. But he was mentally reclassifying Jason as a lot closer to 15 than 18.

"Give me a phone," Tim bargained. "If you don't want me to call Bruce, then let's talk to Dick. He knows me and he knows you."

Jason cursed under his breath and grabbed at his hair with a fist. He didn't seem to notice that he'd knocked his hood down. "They're going to put me in jail," he said flatly. "You know that, right? And I'm not going to let them. So that's going to be ugly."

"Dick thought that Bruce's stance on the Red Hood was too inflexible." Tim had already thought this through. "At worst, we go to Bludhaven until Bruce cools down and you can be Robin again."

The look that garnered him implied Jason thought he'd lost his damn mind.

Tim waited patiently.

"There's a lot to unpack there!" Jason's eyes were wide and his tone went a little high. He didn't seem to notice he started pacing. "First off, I'm not going to be Robin again. You get that, right? That was my whole beef with Bruce? No more Robins. Not that I'm a good child soldier anymore." He made a sweeping gesture at his body. "But also- they're not going to be pissed at me because I shot some mobsters," he stressed. "They're going to smack me down hard to keep you safe."

Tim furrowed his brow. "It's not that bad. You're not going to do it again. Anyway, we don't have to tell them everything."

The certainty in his voice took Jason's breath away. Tim pretended not to notice the controlled breathing he had to do. "Timothy," Jason said carefully. "They saw me hunt you down. Kick you. Slash your throat." His voice broke. "They're not going to want me back. And you deserve better than that. They'll agree."

Tim shot to a sitting position and ignored what that did to his protesting ribs. "They can't!" He disagreed. "You belong there, Jason. And-" he stopped mid phrase. "...You disabled all the security but you left the cameras running?" The realization knocked the breath out of his lungs.

That hadn't been just a sadistic assault. It had been a performance, and it hadn't been for Tim's benefit.

'What happened at the tower wasn't really about me.' There was something really depressing about that, but there was also relief. 'He wanted Bruce to suffer. Not me.'

Jason couldn't even look at him. "I wasn't in my right mind," he said. "But we can't know- Tim, I'm not a safe person. Not in general, and not for yo-"

"We definitely have to keep you away from Bruce for a while," Tim thought aloud. "That's - difficult, but okay." He ruffled his hair unconsciously. "The answer is still Dick."

"Why are you so fixated on Dickhead?" Jason buried his face in his hands.

Tim paused. "He's your brother. He loves you. He misses you so much. He'll help us."

"He's more your brother, I think." The words were muffled.

Tim snorted. "No, I'm not family," he denied. "I'm a neighbor, that's all."

Jason lifted his face just enough to side-eye. He gave Tim a weird look.

He shrugged. It was true.

He could see the moment that Jason gave up. "Whatever. We can come back to it, I gyess. I'm going out. I'll get your crutches, at least. Some groceries."

Tim nodded.

Jason edged past the sofa without getting too close. Tim wasn't sure he was doing it on purpose. "I'm gonna take a shower. If you think of something you need, let me know before I go."

Tim watched him go. "Don't you think Bruce is going to be looking for you out there?" He only had curiosity in his voice. "Since they don't know what you did with me. They're probably wondering."

"Wondering," Jason repeated, incredulous. He slammed the door shut.

It wasn't a very substantive answer to Tim's reasonable concern.

"Rude." Tim settled back into the sofa. He felt better now that he had some caffeine and fuel. He itched to move, but even he had to acknowledge that the less he stressed his injuries, the sooner he'd be back on his feet.

"I really need something to do," he said to himself. "I can't just trigger panic attacks to pass the time."

Shower water started in the next room.

"I need body wash, too," Tim thought aloud. He sniffed his underarm and grimaced. "I'd use his drugstore shit at this point."

Well. He wasn't in good condition, no. But if Jason was going to be gone for hours, surely Tim could manage to clean himself up. It would be a good project.

"He keeps dodging the topic when I mention technology. At the very least he needs to get me something to write with so I don't lose my mind." Tim sighed. "I don't know if I'm hoping Dick will find him when he goes out or not," he lamented. "I don't think either one of them is going to be- calm or logical about things." He huffed, blowing his bangs off of his face.

He had a pretty good list of demands by the time Jason came back, toweling off his hair. Tim glanced over the new outfit just because it was there and not because he had an opinion about what Jason looked like in a tight t-shirt and jeans versus in oversized sweats.

'I think that's the size of my head.'

He unconsciously put a hand to his head, looking at the bicep that wasn't a mottled mess of Tim's bruises. A muscle flexed as Jason scrubbed at his hair.

"That's so bad for your hair," Tim said, and instantly regretted opening his mouth.

Jason only snorted and tossed the towel in a laundry basket just inside the bedroom door. "Only one of us can have nice hair, I guess."

Tim didn't say, 'You could switch to a better conditioner.' But it was a close thing. "Can I get a pot of coffee before you go?" He asked instead. "Just leave it on the table." Before Jason could finish opening his mouth, "Come on, I think you owe me this one," Tim wheedled.

The look he got back was sheer incredulity. "That's what you're wasting that on?" Jason clarified. "I kicked you around like a soccer ball and you're using the incurred guilt for a single pot of coffee?"

Wow, okay, that was not true. Tim hadn't done well but he'd done better than a soccer ball. He'd gotten hits in, even, at the beginning.

Grandiose liar or not, Jason was moving to the kitchen even as he said it, so Tim didn't give a damn. "I think I get more than one use," he said happily. He watched Jason open up an overhead cupboard and fish out the glass coffee pot. He'd already washed and put it away? "My next demand is two notebooks and writing utensils, at least three colors."

"Done," Jason agreed easily. "You like pizza alright?"

"Pizza is good. Can you get textbooks from my room?"

"I think Bruce will notice if I go into the manor for your homework."

"I don't live there," Tim said, puzzled. "I meant my house."

Jason turned to blink at him, bag of coffee beans hanging from one hand. "That's not deserted?" He frowned slightly. "Your parents are in Nicaragua."

Tim rolled his eyes. "What's that have to do with my homework?"

Jason sighed and turned back to the coffee. "I'm not going there," he said, tone final. "It's too close to B."

"Boo, you whore." Tim continued while Jason spluttered and dropped something that clattered. "Okay, can you go to the bookstore for me?"

He had to wait a few impatient seconds for Jason to answer, "I guess?" He sounded confused that this was where his life was.

"Good." Tim settled further into the couch. "I'll write titles if you get me something to write with."

Jason tossed his phone over. "Make it in a note."

Tim tried and failed to catch it. It landed on his legs. "Thanks." He eyed the back of Jason's head, wondering if the older boy had lost his mind. Why give Tim a phone if he didn't want to contact Dick? Tim should just dial him up now.

He opened up the notes app and typed up his demands quickly. He stole a glance to check that Jason was still preoccupied. Then he opened up contacts and added Dick's new number under "Biggest Bird". Then he paused and looked at Jason's back. Jason was the biggest one now, huh.

He didn't change it. Dick deserved to be the big bird. He hesitated for a moment, guilty, before typing up "Hey Dick, I lived. 👍 Pretty sure I'm in Gotham now. Don't reply pls, it'll be pretty uncomfortable for me. Will contact when I can. -Tim."

He sent the message and deleted the record instantly. He exited all windows except the note app before he put the phone on the table.

"Reading for fun?" Jason asked. He was totally oblivious as to what Tim had just done.

Tim scoffed, heart racing with guilt he really shouldn't feel. "More like keeping up. There's a new book on systems tech that I need, and a journal from the National Microbiology-"

"I'm sorry I asked," Jason snarked, because he was a bitch too. But he was smiling when he opened up the coffee grinder and tipped the powder into a pour over cup. "Nerd."

Tim rolled his eyes. He tried to be subtle about keeping an eye on Jason's phone.

He had a trickle of doubt that he tried to press down.

Dick wouldn't message, right? Of course he'd be tempted to. He was Dick. Tim wondered if he should have told him that it was Jason. It didn't seem like information for a text message.

The phone didn't light up with any alerts. Jason brought over a whole pot of coffee and a plate of grapes that he seemed a little embarrassed to mention was past their optimal date.

Tim, a garbage-eating raccoon person who had subsisted on microwavable meals for more than a week at a time and would do it again, shrugged.

Jason pulled on a leather jacket, tucked guns and other equipment onto his body, and went out the door.

A few minutes later he had a thought that hit him like Jason's boot to the face. Tim fumbled a grape in his shock and let it roll off under the table.

'...Is Dick going to ask Barbara to find the phone I messaged from?'

"Whoops," Tim said, voice hoarse. "...Maybe they won't talk much?"

Chapter 4

It was a long, tense night. Jason put a pillow on the sofa and wondered why he even bothered. He made himself a cup of chamomile tea and then accidentally let it get cold staring at the sleeping lump on his bed, feeling like an absolute freak but needing to know that Timothy was still breathing.

He drank the cold tea. He put the pillow back away. He splashed his face with water from the kitchen sink. He killed some time doing equipment maintenance as quietly as possible. A dog barked outside and he held his breath, paranoid that it would wake his soulmate up.

It didn't. Timothy was fine.

Well. He wasn't fine. But he wasn't any worse.

Jason paced a line between the table and the kitchen counter until he was too irritated to keep going. He checked the time: not even 2 am yet.

"It's going to be a long fuckin night," he said to himself. Then he held his breath and looked at the cracked bedroom door, as if he might be able to hear Timothy's breathing.

He couldn't.

"Of course I don't. I'm too far away." He sat down. He jiggled his leg up and down, trying to think of anything else. Think about his work, his passion project to control organized crime and save lives. Don't think about Bruce and his revenge. Don't think about being sick with anger and lonely grief. Don't think about what he'd done to a teenager half his size-

Jason gave up and crept into the room again to be sure that Timothy was still breathing.

He was.

Jason did silent calisthenics, situps and pushups, and he held a plank until his body shuddered.

What had Timothy been seeing in his dreams for years? He must have been terrified when he realized the violent beast from his dreams was the man beating him down.

He took a moment to imagine that, imagine being in Timothy's shoes. He must have realized it there in the Tower. Which injuries had it been? Had he seen his broken fingers on Jason first? Was it a ghost bruise blooming over Jason's face as Jason loomed over him? Kicked him?

Jason collapsed to the floor and rolled over to his back. He clutched at his hair with one hand, a nervous tic he'd never managed to get rid of.

He went back to obsessively trying to remember dreams that he usually wanted to forget. What nightmares had he had?

Nanda Parbat would fuck anyone up. The things that Jason had been doing for years- some kid had been seeing that? Had seen all that violence?

'Makes me feel like Talia.'

Jason full-body shuddered, confused. Morals he had never recontextualized were creeping up to the surface. As a kid he'd been extremely protective of other children. That had been the best part of being Robin.

And now he was an adult. He was a grown man and he'd been sending visions of fuckin- of shooting men in the face and of stabbing people and watching the light die from their eyes, of all the blood in the sand and the shit and tears of death and he'd been doing that to some kid-

He had to stand up. He poured himself a glass of water just to have something to do, and that meant half an hour later he guiltily crept through the bedroom again to get to the bathroom.

He wanted a shower. He felt disgusting. Water wouldn't fix the shame but it would get the itch of dried sweat off of his skin.

It'd wake up the kid.

'I need to stock something in these places for entertainment.'

His phone was dying. He fished out the charger and played a word game for a full hour, trying to use the white glare and puzzles to keep him awake and too busy to think about how thoroughly he'd fucked over his soulmate. That kid was never going to be normal, never going to be safe. Jason did that to him.

It felt like morning was never going to come. He made himself breakfast at a decent hour and then waited. And waited.

Christ, Drake could sleep.

'Or maybe he needs to recover because someone smashed him into the floorboards. Just a thought.'

He was staring dully into a mostly empty cup of tea when he finally heard a sleepy voice from the bedroom. Jason put it down a little too fast and hurried to the door. He paused, hand on the knob.

'Don't be a creep. He's going to have another panic attack if you go in there like it's a goddamn drug bust.'

He knocked.

"Come in."

Jason pushed open the door and took a hesitant step inside. It was his room but he felt like an intruder.

Timothy was mostly propped up in bed. His eyes widened when he saw Jason and his mouth dropped open. He looked like he was looking at something dirty

Jason braced for it.

Timothy closed his mouth.

Jason's mouth was almost too dry to speak despite having just finished a drink. "Good morning," he managed. He was surprised by how level his voice was. God, he felt like shit. "Breakfast first or bathroom?"

"Bathroom," Tim said, "but could I get a crutch? Eventually?"

Jason nodded without comment. "You can use it by tomorrow, maybe." He stepped to Tim's side as meekly as possible. He wished he didn't see that the boy got paler.

Timothy had a pretty good poker face, but Jason had to touch to help him up. He could feel that heart racing like a rabbit's.

'I'm disgusting. I made this child afraid of me.'

He kept his body language as unthreatening as possible and his grip gentle as he helped Timothy through his morning needs.

It was hard to stand in front of the mirror. Jason stole a glance at their reflection, gut twisting with self loathing. The difference between them was more obvious from an outside perspective. Tim was a good 6 inches shorter, obviously still lean with youth rather than packing on the muscle he might manage as an adult.

Just a kid. He'd never had a chance against Jason.

Tim was obviously overwhelmed by frustration at his helplessness. Jason could feel him shaking. He pretended not to see how red Timothy's eyes were.

And then Timothy leaned back, digging his shoulder into Jason's stomach. He- he sort of melted.

Jason's mind raced. His hands moved on autopilot, gently cleaning Tim's hands. It felt like- no, he couldn't possibly have been seeking comfort from Jason. Could he?

'You never know with a soulmate bond. Lots of people stay in fucked up soulmate relationships. It might- shit, what if it's fucking with him? Making him look at me to feel safe?'

He felt like throwing up.

He glanced up at just the right time to see Timothy's face go even whiter. Jason's nerves frayed even further. He braced for another panic attack-

Timothy jabbed him with his shoulder. "Let's go."

That was fine by him.

Jason turned off the tap without a word. He pulled open a drawer to yank out a soft towel, patted Tim's hands dry, and then steered him out. He was looking forward to retreating when Timothy spoke out.

"I want to leave the bedroom," Tim demanded.

Jason paused.

'I wouldn't want to be helpless in someone else's bed either. He'll probably feel safer if he can at least sit up.'

He wished he hadn't been so cheap with the bed. If it had a headboard Timothy could have sat up there. "Sofa's fine," Jason said, and then took him out of the bedroom.

Making Timothy breakfast felt blessedly normal. Jason leaned into it, playing up irritation at how picky the kid was and playfully judging him for deploying the big cow eyes for coffee.

'Are you even supposed to drink coffee when you're that young?'

He didn't know, but he made a cup anyway.

When he finished cooking he found that Tim had dozed off again. Jason felt frozen at the sight.

'How? How does he feel safe enough to fall asleep with me right here?'

Conversely, Timothy's casual attitude made Jason's stress ratchet further up. That reached new levels when he actually talked with the little fucker.

'This is bad. This is so fucking bad. He doesn't get it. He wants to stay with me?'

The shower was a retreat. Jason wasn't too proud to admit that to himself. He pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of the bare bones supply in the closet to armor up before going back near his… well, god, he might technically be a prisoner? Patient sounded better.

He scrubbed the emotion off his face when he came back into the room. He was still drying his hair. Timothy craned his head over the back of the sofa to watch him.

Wait.

Jason lifted his arm a little higher and tracked the way Timothy's pupils followed the movement.

'He's staring at my arms?' Jason wondered. 'Making sure I don't attack him?'

God, he wished that was the case. It would have been much better for his nerves if Drake had that sense. But Jason suspected that the teenager was more innocently fascinated with a muscular arm.

Christ. He blundered his way through a conversation and just did whatever he needed to do to make Timothy happy. He made him a whole pot of coffee, health be damned, and promised to bring him the world. Books, notebook, whatever- he'd promise anything to get out of this interaction.

He was more relieved than he'd admit to put some space between him and his- Tim. Not his anything, just Timothy Drake.

Jason stuck his hands in his pockets aggressively and shouldered his way out onto the street.

Gotham at noon was a glaring nightmare. He ducked his head against the light and regretted leaving his sunglasses. No way was he going back in there now, not with the baleful little puppy dog huddled on his sofa waiting to judge him with those big sad eyes. God, the way he'd looked when he asked if Jason didn't want to be with him-

Jason shook off the cacophony of the confusing emotions that Tim inspired and focused on his task. He'd get the books and paper supplies first, they were furthest, then pick up the crutches from a different safehouse - no, maybe the groceries and then the crutches. The mobility aids would be unwieldy in a grocery store.

He ended up buying an overpriced backpack at the student wear shop next to the bookstore. Timothy's purchases went in the bottom. He didn't spend much time flipping through them with a furrow in his brow, feeling inadequate and undereducated. He was officially a middle school dropout and a high school dropout now. That couldn't be attractive.

Jason berated himself for the thought as soon as he recognized it. It didn't matter if Timothy would be attracted to him or not, it would be beyond fucked up to get involved regardless.

He wasn't as clueless about that as Timothy seemed to think. The thought of stolen glances and the way Tim unconsciously leaned against him at the sink had something twisting painfully in Jason's chest. It made him feel human, reliable, needed and wanted.

Timothy was cute. When Jason looked at him he wanted to keep him safe and that was all kinds of fucked up, wasn't it, when he was the biggest threat the boy had ever faced?

[fic-ive-read]

Link To The Fic

[arunneronthird]

he will use every chance he gets to be a drama queen and if he doesnt have one he will create one

[ahfrickenfrick]

nightwing being hurt in the field, and over comms he can’t get out what was wrong, nearly in shock, and jason puts on his best batman™️ voice and says “robin, report.”

and it snaps dick out of it enough to say concussion, possible broken ribs, and a gash in his side.

no one talks about it, and then a year later, damian does the same thing to tim

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Introducing my jaytim fanfiction series Chained!

This is the largest writing project I have ever attempted! Currently (March 29th, 2024) it sits at a length of 153,000 words published and some back of the napkin math puts the final product in the ballpark of War and Peace’s 500,000+ words. halp lmao! This post is designed to serve as an introduction to what the story is about, what my Tim and Jason are gonna be like, and what parts of canon I’m sticking to

"So, what’s the premise ya dorkus malorkus?”

Jason is set in front of a contract that will grant near omnipotence over every facet of reality. The catch is that it requires the person who actually gains the power to be permanently bound into the service of someone else. Afraid of what this could do in the wrong hands, Jason asks Tim to be his new Master.

(a picture of Jason with the halo and armor the contract grants him that I drew :3 also, have a link to the fics!)

After many hours of intense negotiations (the entire first fic in the series), they produce a subcontract designed to maintain Jason's basic rights as a person while still granting them enough power to overcome whatever whatever caused the contract to be written in the first place. Now all that's left is to destroy the evidence, win the fight, and start remaking the world in their image...

Expect to read about: extensive theological discussions complete with readings of the Bhagavad Gita, shape shifting, hijinks, Harley Quinn being a menace to society really good therapist, redonkulous amounts of time travel and time loops, murders most foul, webs of lies and deceit as Oracle works to uncover their secrets, angst, fluff, hurt, comfort, and I’m gonna stop there before I overpromise myself, turn into a puddle, and never manage to finish the damn thing, lol

The draw of the premise for me is exploring the constant renegotiation of boundaries between Jason and Tim as they navigate a truly terrible idea of a romance. This is slow burn in that it takes them a really long time to get together properly due to the aforementioned terrible idea part, but they know they’re in love very early on.

“Lay out the dynamics there hoss”

I reserve the right to fuss with these, but my intention is:

Jason/Tim = the genius fragile human made of pure spite and determination and their sentient bodyguard/servant monster who they like lowkey have a thing with. Think Integra Hellsing and Alucard.

Barbara Gorden versus Tim Drake = genius versus genius 5D chess headgames war. Think L and Light with Jason as Ryuuk. But like if Light was into Ryuuk.

Tim/Jason versus [MAIN VILLAIN SPOILERS] = warring Gods. The source of a new mythology.

Honestly, just mark down Hellsing Ultimate and Death Note animes as major influences.

“What’s a folk gotta do ta get some headcanons and characterization in this joint?”

For Tim I’m going mainly with him in his Red Robin run where he finds Bruce, blows up the League of assassins and shit like that. I love how absolutely arrogant this man is, and I find the way he struggles with the ethics of the job really neat. This version of Tim seems perfect to act as the commander: always tempted to do more, tempted to go further into the dark with power, but also having a lot of self control and dedication to doing right.

In terms of personal headcannons I am making him trans (cause I can), ADHD/Autistic (because it makes sense), and a dabbler in mild, lowkey amphetamine abuse (The coffee chugger who never sleeps of fanon intrigues me, but also caffeine kinda doesn’t do that, whereas adderall definitely does. He’ll use both stimulants as available and needed. I like a man who knows he badly overworks himself but who can’t realistically say he shouldn’t be overworking himself.)

Jason is a much harder cat to herd because writers have long been playing tug of war with his characterization, dragging him over the line to unhinged villain then back to just another bat over and over. I always like Jason, but I think he’s at his weakest at both extremes of the spectrum. He’s a good villain/antagonist in general, but a phenomenal one when he has real goals and morals. He’s a good anti-hero/tenuous ally in general, but a phenomenal one when he and the family have serious disagreements and Jason is still a killer.

I’m keeping this fic as canon compliant as possible, but there is a bare minimum amount of rearrangement necessary to make Jason consistently morally grey rather than an ethical checkers board that looks grey when you turn it sideways and squint.

Headcanons for Jason include chronic pain (I just think being blown up should screw with a guy’s nerves), trans (cause I can), and having schizophrenia (cause I see some possible canon evidence and he’s had a LOT of ableist stuff thrown his way and I don’t really like ‘well I’m not actually mentally ill’ as a resolution point to that. I am leaving it ambiguous if this has anything to do with the Lazarus Pit, but I intend it to be very unambiguous that it has nothing to do with why he has beef with the rest of the bats. His grievances are not delusions. His moral positions are not delusions. He will hallucinate and I may have him develop delusions, but he’ll also take medication for that and employ coping mechanisms like real life people with schizophrenia do. The mental illnesses are something he deals with, not something that controls him into being evil, no matter their source.)

Oh and it should go without saying that everyone has so much PTSD!

“Cut ta the chase already jabrony, give us da timeline”

Crisis on Infinite Earths, Final Crisis, Infinite Crisis, Flashpoint, Convergence, and the Rebirth changes happened in this fic's canon. We are dealing with multiple multiverses. If you’re familiar with the concept of ‘Hypertime’ used to facilitate the Elseworlds series and elaborated on during the Dark Knights: Metal stuff, I’m building off of that. If you’re not, don’t worry about it, there will be a far better explanation in the fic as the characters discover this shit for themselves.

This takes place during the "Rebirth" era of DC comics canon in a fanfic universe I made up within that canon multiverse called Earth 69. Earth 69 is my idea of what the pre-flashpoint timeline might have looked like if flashpoint never happened. Essentially I'm taking the post crisis stuff and extending it by acting as though that timeline just kept going, with plot points from New 52 and Rebirth canon welded onto the end of it. Keep in mind though, Earth 69 only coincidentally mirrors pre-flashpoint events; that canonical pre-flashpoint multiverse still exists!

Now lets go through just Earth 69′s timeline, focusing on Tim and Jason

Based on the letter Jason sends to Kid Devil, I put the year of his death as 1985. Ten years have passed since then at the start of this fic, making Tim 23 and Jason 25. The influence of alien tech and supergeniouses accelerated cultural and scientific growth such that while the fic takes place in 1995, every bit of tech and culture from 1980 to 2024 is fair game to show up. I find it fun to play around with laser turret drones and microfiche spy tactics all in the same story, so our heroes listened to My Chemical Romance on their smartphones while watching the fall of the Berlin Wall on live TV.

Batman (1940) issues #419 - #429 aka Jason’s post-crisis Robin years happen almost identically to the comics, except that Jason is a trans man and it was the Penguin that got Willis Todd locked up for life and then killed instead of Two Face. Bruce eventually finds out he’s trans and is supportive if understandably clueless. He raises Jason as his son. It’s important to me that Jason’s beef with Batman not leave either side objectively correct. Their relationship and hurts are a lot more compelling to me if Bruce isn’t transphobic.

A Place of Lonely Dying and the Robin (1993) series happen with very few deviations, with the understanding that I've read less of this than would be ideal and might get some things mixed up as I go along. Those deviations include Tim also being a trans man. Because he was looking into transition care for Jason, Bruce already knows about puberty blockers and HRT and supplies them to him. That becomes a big part of why Tim’s Dad is so freaked out by Tim being Robin. In this timeline, one of the major reasons Tim is so attached to the role of Robin is that it’s the first role in his life where he gets to be himself.

Lost Days happens as it did in comics except for two changes. Firstly when Talia sleeps with him, it's not sex, it's fully clothed cuddling and actual sleeping. I think this compromise preserves the important emotional conflict that I identified in this reading of her motivations, while sidestepping some of the problems the sex caused. The second change is that Jason won't have ended Lost Days by going to talk to Hush...

Because I HATE Thomas Elliot as a character. I hate how he was implemented. I hate that he kept showing up. I hate that they killed off Harold. I hate Hush. So it never happened on Earth 69! Instead I'll be emphasizing Tim and Jason's later fights, which have some similar emotional beats.

Now, whether or not Jason held a knife to Tim’s throat is kinda fucking important to how their relationship is interpreted! Most people, understandably, make this a serious event between the two. However, in all the comics I’ve been reading, I have seen zero characters ever acknowledge that Jason was involved. Tim hasn’t thought or said anything about it, even when it really seemed relevant. Jason technically tells Batman he did it in UtRH, but it's never brought up again and at this point it feels almost like Judd Winick tricked DC into publishing a headcanon that applies nowhere else lmao. Therefore I feel fine with just ditching this and putting more emphasis on their later fights which have similar emotional beats.

Under the Red Hood happens, with one modification. He knows about Stephanie's death and treats it with the gravity she deserves. He is targeting Black Mask because of Steph's death, and something very similar to the excellent fanfic 'hangman is coming down from the gallows' by nex_et_nox happens.

Young Justice (1998) happens, except for some of the mythological encounters. They did watch Santa get blown up, but I will be taking liberties with how the Greek Pantheon operates, and holy fucking shit, no they did not meet the goddess Kali like that, what the fuck, did no one even try to do a basic level of cultural sensitivity research?!? Anyways.

Jason does fight Batman, Green Arrow, and Mia as told in Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72. Roy does hear about this, but he hears about it the way that Mia herself tells it when asked about it in the comic, i.e. “He didn’t hurt me. We just talked.” So he's not exactly all that freaked out about it.

Roy Harper and Jason first meet in Outsiders (2003) #44 - #46 where he helps Roy and Dick exonerate Black Lightning with no ulterior motives, as in the comics.

Teen Titans (2003) #29 (The Titans Tower fight) happens as it did in comics. i.e. It was a fair one on one fight in which both participants understood that the other was not trying to kill them and both combatants walked away with nothing more than superficial injuries. Tim came away from that with a black eye and a grudge; Jason came away from it thinking Tim was pretty alright in his book. The writing on the wall was either Jason’s own blood, or red paint, because there is simply no earthly way that was Tim’s blood.

Teen Titans (2003) in general happens to Tim, though there’s a lot that connects to Countdown to Final Crisis (which can only have happened in the canonical pre-flashpoint multiverse) that may or may not need to be edited and removed.

The combination of events from Countdown to Final Crisis and Teen Titans (2003) #47 also happens, in which Jason attempts to save Duela Dent from murder, fails, connects with Donna at her funeral, and then is interrogated by Tim and Dick who suspect Jason murdered her. Oh and also it's where Tim kicks him in the pants lol. Obviously the reason Duela died and who murdered her has to be different, but all that should be details that don't matter for the fic's purposes.

I've already mentioned that Robin (1993) was being considered canon to Earth 69′s timeline, but make special note here of issue #177, in which Tim sends Jason to jail (his first prison stint, yay :D). One modification here: Jason's plan is to manipulate the established mob families into fighting the cops, leaving the local communities to govern themselves, not to use "kid gangs" to soften up the cops and the mob like happens in the comic. Because like... the on panel plan makes no sense, either logistically or for his character, and idk why but the way the author uses the concept of “kid gangs” leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Nightwing (1996) #118 - #122 aka Brothers in Blood aka the one where Jason becomes a tentacle vore monster happens exactly as depicted in comics. Exactly. As. Depicted. Well okay not exactly, I need him to not have threatened to bomb a building full of innocent people, that is a bridge too far, but everything else stays!

The Red Robin series happens as depicted, except for how Tim got the costume. The Red Robin costume that Tim wears in the pre-flashpoint multiverse was from that multiverse’s Earth 51. On Earth 69 the Red Robin costume was what Bruce made for Jason in anticipation of him wanting to outgrow the Robin mantel one day, like Nightwing did (tho uhhh great job reframing why the Nightwing mantel exists there Bruce lmao). When Dick gave the Robin role to Damian, Tim took the Red Robin outfit for himself from it’s pedestal next to The Memorial Case. There was a considerable amount of spite towards multiple people involved in that decision.

Battle for the Cowl is where it gets trickier. I am going to gut most of the plot of BftC and combine a few plot elements from it with the Batman and Robin (2009) series in order to create a much longer lasting conflict that preserves Jason as an anti-hero and his partnership with Scarlet/Sasha as a competing vigilante force to Dick and Damian.

After Bruce’s “death” Dick super does not ever want to be Batman. No one does really. Jason hears Bruce's post-death message and is understandably fucking devastated. He decides to say fuck that noise, Bruce is gone now, and I'm gonna be Batman since no one else seems willing to do it, and I'm gonna do it my way! Another Batman running around shooting people dead forces Dick’s hand and he takes up the Batman mantel to fight him. Batman and Robin (2009) #3 - #6 happen roughly as depicted, but with Jason still claiming to be Batman, and he doesn’t have red hair. (I’m so sorry white suit + pill helmet costume, but I must leave you behind for the sake of continuity). Jason's stint in Arkham and then Blackgate happens. Batman and Robin (2009) #23 - #25 happen as depicted, minus the part where Jason rigged the entire fucking civilian tram line to explode. After Jason and Scarlet fly off into the sunset together, they come back to Gotham and keep fighting.

Sometime after he's free again he does Roy a favor. I haven't decided what exactly, but it's big. I’ve toyed with the idea that he broke him out of prison because he doesn’t want to see Liam grow up without a dad in a move very similar to the Outsiders thing and roughly analogous to how he meets Roy in Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011), but that seems a lil repetitive and why would Roy even be in jail, so idk.

By this point the events of Red Robin are over and Tim has joined Dick and Damian in fighting Jason. Sometime before the climactic battle, Scarlet leaves for [FANFIC SPOILERS] reasons, so it becomes just Jason again. He goes through with something like the plan from Battle for the Cowl, luring Tim to his Batcave and offering him a place as his Robin. As in comics, Tim's answer is to pick up a crowbar and wack Jason across the face with it! Jason wins the fight and stabs Tim in the chest, knowing it's not gonna kill him, but fine with it leaving one hell of a scar! Dick's fight with Jason afterwards, and Jason jumping from the train into the harbor, happens as it did in BftC #3 with the exception of Dick wearing the Batsuit instead of Tim.

Starfire contacts Roy for help with a lengthy, off planet mission - one that absolutely needs a Bat on board. Every single Bat is up to their eyeballs in fires to put out and projects to run... except for Jason. Roy knows a lot of other Heroes with very good reasons to hate him, but in his personal experience, Jason’s always been a reliable if shady and asshole-ish guy working for the greater good. Ya’know. A Bat. It helps that they both think Bruce treats Dick like garbage sometimes and thus are inclined to be sympathetic towards Jason's beef with him. Roy vouches for him and brings him on board. They work well together, they save the days in outer space, and after a particularly dangerous mission they have a "thank fuck we're not dead" threesome together. This replaces the New 52 version of Red Hood and the Outlaws.

During the trip back to Earth, Jason confides in them about his woes and they encourage him to sort his shit out and get his life back together. Jason agrees and after considering it for a while he asks Roy and Starfire to help negotiate a truce between him and the rest of the Bats. They agree and thus begins two years of ceasefire and getting more friendly with the other Bats.

During those two years, the events of Dark Knights: Metal occur. The Source Wall is broken, and all the peoples of all the earths are plunged into a nightmare world. No one really remembers what happened, it’s all very vague and drifty, like remembering a dream, unsurprisingly. People have been referring to this event as The Nightmares.

This two year period also contains my version of Rebirth Red Hood and the Outlaws. Jason attempts to infiltrate Black Mask’s gang because the real Black Mask should be super dead and super unwilling to work with him. He’s a LOT more competent about it than in comics tho.

The biggest change is what goes down with Cobblepot. Jason’s original intention was to fake the penguin’s death and take all his power and assets from him, as he did in comics. However, he loses Artemis and Bizzaro before he goes through with that plan instead of after. At the last minute he switches the blanks out for lead. The Penguin is super dead.

He fights back when Bruce confronts him, but it's still a brutal fight and ultimately Roy has to separate them. Then Jason follows his father’s trail to the experimentation prison thing like in comics. Roy doesn’t die along the way, we don’t have the scene with Bruce at the diner, but in the end it turns out that his father is actually dead. No one survived that place. He only found boxes of dusty, decaying files, a grave out back, and Dr. Fate. Once he was convinced there was nothing more to find, Dr. Fate took him to John Constantine and The Contract, and that’s just about where our story begins!

Have another link, and I hope some of y’all enjoy what I’ve got so far!

[randoparody]

[bianc0re]

arcade night 🕹️🦇

[smittywing]

WIP Wednesday - Marriage 101

This incredibly flimsy premise was brought to you by a post on this site that I can no longer find. It basically said you get more FAFSA money if you're married, so I picked the two characters least likely to ever use FAFSA and married them. I have no regrets.

The aroma of pizza rolls and popcorn notwithstanding, for a minute Tim had forgotten whose safehouse he was actually in.

Damian’s safehouses tended to have the video games. Tim’s were full of prototype gadgets, and Dick’s usually had fuzzy blankets and squishy pillows. Jason’s had the food.

Jason’s apparently also had a FAFSA application.

“Hey,” he said, picking it up. “Are you going back to school?”

Three things happened at once. (1) Jason vaulted off the sofa, overturning a bowl of popcorn onto Dick’s lap, (2) Damian grabbed Jason’s abandoned controller, and murdered Dick’s player, and (3) Dick grabbed Damian and mashed his face into the cushions.

“What’s this?” Dick asked as Tim turned away from Jason’s flailing hands to read the notes Jason had made in the margins. “Is my Little Wing going to be a college man?”

“No, fuckit, Timmers - no.” Jason was bigger and had a longer reach but Tim was extremely adept at dodging and weaving. He’d had a lot of practice. “Just a class or two. Dammit, Tim!”

It wasn’t a class or two. It was a full semester under the name Jason Peterson.

“Let me see,” Dick said, blocking Jason’s swipe and taking the papers from Tim. “You need money?” he asked, scanning the pages.

Jason made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. “Tuition’s fucking expensive, okay?” he said. “Now fuck off and give me that. That’s personal information.”

“Personal information for someone who isn’t you,” Dick commented, stepping just out of reach.

“Father would gladly pay for your tuition,” Damian piped up unwelcomely from the couch. “Why do you waste your time with tedious paperwork?”

“I am *not* taking money from Bruce.” Jason’s voice resonated with certainty.

“Didn’t you have like, some...passive income?” Tim asked, not sure if bringing up Jason’s time as a drug lord was a faux pas these days. Jason had a hair trigger temper and Tim really didn’t feel like being on the pointy side of his knife. Again.

“If you’re talking about the blood money, I donated it to some of the rehab places,” Jason mumbled. “Clearly I hadn’t come up with this brilliant plan at the time.”

“Why not take Father’s money?” Damian asked. “He enjoys spending it on philanthropic pursuits and you are clearly destitute.”

“No more pizza rolls for you,” Jason said, picking Damian up by his collar as he was peeking over Dick’s arm at Jason Peterson’s income. Damian kicked but Jason’s forearm was steady, as he levered Damian away from the paperwork. Tim quietly watched the tensed muscles running from the edge of Jason’s sleeve to his wrist.

“We’re going to have a little talk later about independence,” Dick told Damian.

“Independence is a worthy outcome,” Damian argued. “But many scholars and artists subsist under the patronage of a sponsor without shame.”

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Dick conceded, glancing at Jason. “But look, we’ll talk about it later, okay Dami?” He turned back to Jason. “I think it’s great,” he continued, squeezing Jason’s bicep. Tim waited for violence, but the fight seemed to leak out of Jason as Dick handed him back the paperwork. “And I understand why you want to do this on your own. But if I can help, in any way, let me know, okay? Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Jason muttered, color high on his cheeks. “Get Cosimo de Medici out of here, will you?”

Dick grinned. “It’s past his bedtime anyway.”

Tim lingered after Dick and Damian left. “Sorry I didn’t think before I said something,” he offered. “I didn’t mean for it to turn into such a big deal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jason said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s fine, whatever.” He opened the fridge and considered the shelves for a minute before pulling out two beers. Tim would have preferred coffee but he knew Jason was offering an olive branch so he took the bottle.

“Are you thinking about Gotham U?” Tim ventured, twisting off the cap and taking a sip of his beer.

“If I can get in,” Jason said, playing with his bottle cap. “If not, then Gotham State. I took the GED just to see if I could pass.”

“Of course you could,” Tim said automatically. “You were always better at school than Dick.”

Jason looked at him oddly. “Yeah but I quit at 15.”

Tim didn’t correct him. Quitting actually did sound better than getting murdered by the Joker.

“What do you want to study?” he asked instead.

It might have been a cliche, but Jason’s face literally lit from within at the question.

“I want to minor in English lit,” he said, which was a weird place to start, but Tim was too fascinated by the change in his demeanor to comment on it. “For a major, criminal justice would be the obvious choice but the background checks for law enforcement would be too comprehensive to make a career of it. I wouldn’t want to be a cop anyway. I was thinking maybe education but I don’t know for sure. It might make more sense to study something I can use in day-to-day life, you know? This is the most solid cover I have but it could use some backstopping if I’m going to use it in the real world, you know?”

“I could, um,” Tim said, transfixed by the animation in Jason’s voice and face. He had *never* seen Jason this happy or excited, *ever* and the truth was that he would do anything, *anything* to keep seeing it. “I could build out some - you’re really, you’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”

That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all, but Jason’s rueful grin tugged at his chest.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, if I can swing it. It takes more than a few Pell grants to keep me in helmets. Obviously this wouldn’t be a full time thing.”

“Yeah,” Tim found himself saying. “I know. I mean, I’m enrolled in a few classes next semester and I don’t know how I’m going to juggle those and regular patrol and the Titans.”

“You’ll do it,” Jason said immediately. “Isn’t your IQ like a million? It’ll be cakewalk.”

“Yeah,” Tim echoed, conviction solidifying. He and Jason would be starting at Gotham U in the fall, together. “Cakewalk.”

$

The concept of Jason happily studying English Lit (English Lit? Really? Jason?) at Gotham University started building itself into a happy fantasy by 4am. Tim Googled “how to pay for college” on his phone when he probably should have been trying to catch a few hours of sleep and 36 hours later, he was crawling in Jason’s window.

“Ugh, you too?” Jason greeted him.

“Hey Tim,” Dick said, looking up from his bowl of cereal.

“Hi, yeah,” Tim said, replying to both of them at once. “I uh, I had some ideas.”

Jason picked up the coffee pot and upended it into a mug. The toasty-burnt aroma hit Tim’s nostrils like a big cuddly freight train and reminded him of just how long he’d been awake. “Thanks,” he said.

Jason raised his eyebrows and lifted the mug to his own mouth. Tim felt its loss acutely. “All right,” Jason said with a sigh. “What’s your idea?”

“Ideas,” Tim clarified. “Plural.” He pulled his convertible laptop out of his backpack and rotated it into tablet mode.

“You didn’t,” Jason groaned.

“Of course he did,” Dick said. “PowerPoint was baby bird’s first computer game.”

“Scholarships,” Tim announced, drowning out the negativity.

“On my stellar GED score?” Jason asked sardonically.

“There are scholarships for non-traditional students,” Tim said, bringing up a selection of postings he had found when anticipating this exact argument.

Jason made a face. “Home-schooled?”

“Which you basically were,” Dick pointed out.

“Don’t help,” Jason told him.

“Granted, you’re probably not looking at full-tuition level scholarships,” Tim said, “but a few thousand dollars to pay for your books will help out a lot.”

Jason nodded grudgingly.

“Work-share!” Tim announced, flipping to the next slide.

“You would make a great lunch lady,” Dick suggested.

Jason glared sideways at him. “No.”

“I was thinking the library myself,” Tim offered, because who liked the library better than an English Lit major? Or minor. Or whatever. “Plus you’d have time to do your homework.”

Jason groaned, but it sounded acquiescing. “Okay,” he said. “What else ya got?”

“Income Share Agreements,” Tim went on. “GC has a program or you can apply through a private matching program for someone to front you the money and commit to paying back a percentage of your income once you graduate.”

“No,” Jason said.

“It’s like a loan,” Tim told him. “Just zero interest. And a zero balance. It doesn’t matter how much you make.”

“I’m doing this because I want to do it,” Jason said. “Not to be a nine-to-five, tax-paying drone, or to be stiffing some jerk on his investment. Next?”

“So, you’re probably not going to be a fan of this one,” Tim cautioned. “But you could get a job. And a company with tuition assistance.”

“Oh, really,” Jason drawled, narrowing his eyes and Tim knew Jason was on to him. “And would this job just happen to be at Wayne Enterprises?”

“I mean, I have an in,” Tim offered weakly.

“Or you could just get married,” Dick said.

“What?” Tim asked.

“What?” Jason asked.

“I mean, if pissing off Bruce is a prerequisite,” Dick said, in the same maddeningly casual tone, “you could just get married.” He held up the FAFSA information booklet. “You’d get double the housing money and some other stuff.”

“I’m in,” Jason said immediately.

“Wait,” Tim said, hating that he was going to be the one to throw a wrench in this extraordinarily *amazing* plan of *marrying Jason*. “Wouldn’t getting married to me fuck up his expected family contribution?”

“Um,” Dick said.

“No.” Jason had clearly been all over this paperwork. “When you file as married, you file as independent so your family isn’t expected to contribute. So our combined income would be the four thou Jason Peterson made at Bat-Burger last year and whatever your summer internship at WE paid.”

“Okay, let me see that worksheet,” Tim said, grabbing it out of Dick’s hand. He did some quick math in his head. “Yeah,” he said, the blood rush of a plan coming together hitting him full force. “I’m using the Nest as a permanent address anyway. You could do the same. I’ll work up a lease between us and Drake Industries. I don’t have legal access to my trust until I turn twenty-one, though Bruce has pretty much signed off on whatever, remind me to check and make sure there’s no marriage clause.”

“Um,” Dick said.

“Gotham has a 48-hour waiting period and blood test required for marriage licenses,” Jason said, scrolling rapidly through his phone. “But after that, we can go down to the courthouse and have the Justice of the Peace do the deed.”

“Figures,” Tim said. “Two days gives the press time to jump on this. Let’s apply on a Friday afternoon. Hopefully, whatever intern they have looking will miss it.”

“I didn’t mean you had to marry *each other*,” Dick said.

The room went silent.

“Who else are we gonna marry?” Jason sneered, clear in his opinion of Dick’s idiocy, and then turned back to the matter at hand. “Your marital status is as of the FAFSA submission date,” he said. “So we need to hook up before I submit.”

Tim shrugged. “Deal.”

[lady-hallowtide]

Jason Todd about Tim Drake