#this is probably littered with spelling mistakes cause i wrote it on my fuckin phone

[cainware]

Brother Birds

In which Tim is feeling down and its up to Jason to help lift his spirits during patrol.

"Sometimes it just... feels like everyone forgot I exist." Tim admitted, staring out over Gotham's skyline.

His mask felt tight on his face, and if it weren't for how exhausted he felt, he might reach up and remove it. But as it were, his limbs felt heavy, as if the tiredness that never seemed to end had sunk deep into his bones. Instead, he dropped his head down, resting his forehead against his scrunched up knees.

"I can relate." Tim snorted, turning his head to the side to focus on the man next to him. Jason was leaning against the roof access hatch, a brick wall juxtaposed against glass as a thin line of smoke twirled up into the night from the end of his cigarette. "The feeling of being replaced just kinda dulls out after a while, doesn't it? You start wondering if you ever meant that much to begin with. Makes you stop feeling angry, and then you just get tired."

"I feel like that's targeted." Tim commented, watching as Jason cracked a smile. He shook his head, helmet hooked under his arm as he pulled the cigarette from his lips.

"Never. Past that, remember?" Jason stated, stubbing out the cigarette and placing the burnt out butt in one of his empty utility pockets. Tim couldn't help but laugh. "What?"

"You try so hard to look like an asshole, but you still don't litter. Think Bruce can say that?" Tim asked, watching as Jason came to sit down beside him, long legs dangling over the edge of the rooftop towards the ground below. Waves crashed against the docks a ways below them, and Tim let his attention shift to that.

"Nope. Bruce used to leave metal shells from smoke bombs everywhere, and if it wasn't that, it was batarangs. Don't even get me started on all the rubble." Jason joked, and Tim felt some of the heaviness in his bones lessen. He managed to lift his head, eyes forward as he looked out into Gotham's waters. "Tim, nobody forgot you exist."

"Sure feels like it." Tim sighed, but the warmth of a hand clasping his shoulder seemed to halt the growing pit in his stomach. For a moment, Tim felt like someone actually saw him. That he wasn't just another fired Robin, that maybe nobody had meant to leave him out for the waves to swallow up.

"I know. And I also know that no matter what I tell you, the only person that's gonna change your mind is you." Jason explained, squeezing Tim's shoulder as he spoke. "But you know as well as I do that this family is about as good at considering others as Catwoman is at not stealing something. I don't think Dick meant to hurt you when he made Damian his Robin, Timbers."

"I know, I know." Tim said, lifting his hands to rub at his face, fingers wiping the sweat from beneath the domino mask. "But it still hurts."

"It's always going to hurt, Tim. You got thrust out of your identity and now you're left fumbling to find your own, detached from what you're used to. I get it." Jason removed his hand from Tim's shoulder, and Tim realized how important that touch had been in holding him upright as the exhaustion threatened to settle back in. "But I think you're doing a good job. The whole "Red Robin" identity kinda suits you, y'know? Especially the feather cape."

"You're a bitch." Tim said, finding some reserve of energy to reach out and swat at Jason, who easily leaned out of reach, laughing as his lips curled up into a smile, scars scrunching in the process. "But... you know, you're right."

"Wow, what a surprise! I'm actually right about something. It's almost like I know what I'm talking about, isn't it?" Jason teased, expression softening as he reached out and nudged Tim's shoulder. "You'll be alright, kid. But if you tell anyone I was nice to you, I'll kill you."

"I almost believe that." Tim stated, snorting as he watched Jason tug the helmet back over his head. "Back to work?" Tim's eyes followed where Jason looked, watching as a familiar delivery vehicle pulled into the docks, an advertisement for refrigeration plastered across the side.

"Back to work. C'mon, birdbrain. Maybe kicking the shit out of Cobblepot will make you feel better."