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One moment everything is fine and the next Tim’s dad is standing in the door, a look of anger on his face like Tim had never seen it before.
"Tim" his voice physically quivers with anger.
Tim looks up in surprise and instinctually tries to back away. But there’s no where to go, he’s backed against his bed.
"What?"
And then Jack explodes.
"What, he asks? Well, what do you think, what? Didn't think your old man was smart enough to put two and two together, huh? Thought you were so much better than me?"
Tim mentally runs through his day so far. He came back from patrol sometime after three and had been in his room ever since. Jack and Dana are on the outs again, so Jack is incredibly tense and Tim usually likes to avoid him. But something must've tripped him up. Briefly, he considers that Jack might've found out about Batman, but he scraps that as quickly as it came. No, Jack would act differently, would probably try to blackmail him right now. But he isn't. He's just standing there, in Tim's door, face red and fists balled, heaving with every breath.
"I don't know what you're talking about, dad"
"Don't call me that" the vitriol in his voice makes Tim blanch. What had he possibly done that could make Jack this angry? He's a bit shaky, like he usually is after a few drinks, but he's still coherent, still staring at Tim.
"Did you honestly think I would't find out? Find out that I'm housing a little fag?"
What? Tim is extremely confused. Yes, he is gay. But he's never had a boyfriend and he hasn't done anything to indicate otherwise. He hasn't told his dad, mostly because he knows Jack is not the most…liberal in nature. But he hadn't expected this anger.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not, I'm not a-“ he can't even bring himself to say that word.
"Sorry doesn’t cut it. And now you're trying to lie to me! Is this the thanks I get for raising you for all those years? That you go out to spread your legs for who- hm? Is it that Wayne-fellow? Or his sons? The oldest did always seem bent"
"Dad, where is this coming form? It's not like that, I'm not- I"
Jack spits on the carpet-covered floor. "I told you not to call me that! I'm not some cock-suckers father. And don't you try to deny it, I saw you coming through the window, all exhausted and flushed last night! Do you think i'm stupid? I see the way you look and it's basically public knowledge that Brucie likes his boys young.“ He sneers.
Fuck. So he had seen Tim coming in, that wasn't good. His mind was racing for some sort of excuse, but he kept getting stuck on the fact that his father would openly abandon him because of his sexuality.
"Bruce hasn't touched any of us like that! I swear! And I wasn't, wasn't-" heat rushed to his cheeks. He was a virgin for Christ's sake.
Jack tutted in a way that reminded Tim distinctly of Damian.
"I have enough of your pitiful excuses, I don't need more lies. I'm not blind, boy! Now, lift your shirt, and over the bed"
Tim gulped and with hesitant hands, lifted his shirt. He knew what was coming. His dad wasn’t usually the type to reach for his belt, but today was an exception, it seemed.
The dreaded noise of it unbuckling hit the air and Tim wanted to cry. He hadn’t done anything but his dad couldn't believe him. Was it so bad? That he could like a boy someday? He hadn't thought so, but obviously, he'd been wrong.
The leather hits his back in quick succession and Tim has to bite down on his blanket to muffle his screams. It hurt, hurt so badly even though he was trained for pain and he was pretty sure most of them didn’t even break skin.
It was an eternity before Jack was satisfied, but Tim couldn't move. He was stuck like he was, bend over his bed, with a bloody back and aching thighs.
"And Tim?" Jack asked form the door. He couldn't respond.
"Get out of my house. I'm not housing a faggot-slut" and that was it. His dad left and Tim was apparently being kicked out. He didn’t know how long he had before Jack would come back to check that he had disappeared, but by the time he could move again, he knew he needed to hurry.
The Robin suit under his bed formed the basis of his essentials. On top, he piled a few changes of clothing, his camera, his laptop and bandages, he'd need those. At last, he reached for his wallet, pulled on his thickest hoodie despite the fact that his back positively burned and grabbed his jacket.
He was ready to go. He heard the TV going in the living room as he shut the front door for the final time. Outside, it was raining. It was always raining, these days.
The closest safe-house was in Hood's territory, and as much as Tim didn't want to risk it, he knew he couldn't walk much further. Even the five blocks to that were stretching it.
His back burned with every step and he was sure he was going to get an infection but he simply didn't have the option to stop and clean up.
Eventually, he gets to the safe-house, He blacked out somewhere twenty minutes ago but he's here and it’s dry and finally, Tim will be able to lie down.
He sinks into the cushion without looking around, and sobs into the pillow until he falls asleep.
When Jason comes back from patrol and smells the air in the dump he's living in, he's immediately suspicious. Someone had been here since Jason had left, and that usually didn't spell anything good. In fact, it was downright dangerous. He had no clue if they were still here, or who exactly it even was. He'd made a lot of enemies in his short time as Red Hood and he was not looking forward to confronting any of them.
He shoulders his gun and soundlessly steps into the main area of the flat that doubles as living room and kitchen. He doesn't have to look far to find the intruder. Its fairly obvious, since they're a lump on the brown couch. They don't seem conscious, so Jason dares to approach.
On closer inspection, they're clearly injured, judging by the dark stains on the hoodie and the careful way they're lying down. That's when he sees the unruly black hair and puts two and two together. He might not be as good a detective as Batman but he wasn't slow.
He had a birdy on his couch, and it wasn't looking too well for him. He can feel the green burning in his chest and forcefully reigns it in. He could use this, if he was careful. No need to kick a puppy when it’s down.
No, he needed to investigate.
So he crept closer and closer and carefully lifted the hoodie up to inspect the injury. What he sees takes his breath away and he momentarily forgets all about hurting the pretender.
He knows those marks, is intimately familiar with their feel and they are currently an angry red, a sign of infection. He curses under his breath and makes quick work on the offending piece of clothing.
Replacement might be pissed about the hoodie later, but he'd rather have a pissed Replacement than no Replacement—wait, would he rather have that? Since when? He'd been planning on killing the kid for fuck’s sake. But that was just it, wasn't it? Tim was a kid, and Red Hood was famously protective of kids. Especially kids from abusive backgrounds, and judging by the belt marks on his back and the fact that he was knocked out in a safe-house, it was pretty fair to assume that Tim fit into both of those categories. He took another deep breath.
This was fine, great, really. He was just going to fix the brat up and then call Dick. He might have to ditch the safe-house but he wasn’t overly attached to it anyway.
And so, he took a clean cloth from his very extensive first-aid kit and began cleaning the injury. They were recent, at the very least, so no actual puss had formed. He cleans the wound that break the skin carefully, disinfects them despite Tim’s drowned out protests and then uses bruising-cream on the rest. He rips open a package of bandages and wraps the wounds. None of them needed stitches, thank fuck.
Then, he stares at the child on his couch. Without the uniform and cape, he was a real twig of a boy, really. Small, and lithe and entirely too breakable for Jason's taste. There was also the issue of who—He needed a perpetrator.
He'd been under the vague impression that Tim lived with Bruce and the man was never the type to hit his kids-'specially not with a fucking belt.
Tim was far too far from the manor anyway, no way could he have gone the entire distance in his state. His skin was clammy, and when Jason checked, he was working a low-grade fever. So, not Bruce then. But who?
In all his research, he'd spent precious little time checking Tim's home-life. His dad? If he even still had one. Whoever it was, Red Hood did not like abused teens and the person would learn that quiet intimately.
He stood up and made himself some tea. He needed answers before he called Dickiebird to get his bro. But Tim was pretty out of it, so he would have to wait.
Jason's watching a fantastic adaptation of Pride and Prejudice when Tim first starts moving. He sighs and dials the sound down, watching as his Robin training kicked in. The kid din't open his eyes and his breathing was carefully measured but Jason was pretty familiar with all those tactics, so he's sure Tim’s aware anyway.
"Glad you're joining us, sleeping beauty." he says. Because he might be a savior of children or something, but he's primarily an asshole. Tim stiffens and still doesn’t open his eyes.
"You can stop with the act, I know you're aware. You broke into my safe-house by the way, so a sorry would probably be nice"
"Thanks" comes the muffled answer from the pillow. Jason snorts.
"Stop it with the dying act, I have the monopoly on that fair and square"
That makes the bird look up. He's still pale and his eyes are glassy but he's definitely aware.
"So spill, what gives me the pleasure of meeting a birdy in my nest?"
Tim winces as he sits, the injuries on his back tensing.
"Yeah, you're pretty banged up. Dad finally couldn’t take ya' petty ass anymore? Found out 'bout Robin?"
It’s crude and not how they learned to talk to victims, but it had always pissed Jason off when he was treated like he was suddenly incompetent or breakable. He had a feeling Tim would say the same.
" I don't- I- he-" Tim stuttered and Jason took pity on him.
"You can take a second to think, but I need an answer pretty boy"
A heavy silence set in, only interrupted by the low dialogue from the TV. Man that actor was good.
"Dad kicked me out" Timbo finally whispers, barely audible. Jason had figured as much.
“Yeah? You deserve’ it?"
Tim shrugged a bit unsure. Jason bared his teeth.
"Let me let you in on a little secret, birdy; no fucking kid deserves it" he says it with so much conviction he knows Tim noticed. Jason's never made a secret out of his own, very present, issues. So, what?
"He just exploded, I don't know. Everything happened so quickly. I mean I always knew he wasn’t— but then, he, he saw- and I guess, guess that means I'm no longer a Drake." The kid says it with such finality it actually tugs on Jason's heartstrings. He's met a lot of kids in a lot worse situations than he's in, but it never stops hurting all the same. Parents, man.
"Yeah, I caught about half of that. C'mon, price for you stayin' here's answers. He do this before? What did he find out that he was so pissed about?"
Though if Jason has to wager a guess, he probably already knows. It's always the same story in a city like Gotham and it never gets prettier. Though the fact that Tim hadn't even thought about calling Bruce was interesting. Had he known Bruce-back then- he’d have-well, no use thinking ‘bout it now, was there?
"No, no. He doesn't usually hit me or anything. I mean, there was that one time when I fell asleep at the gala and he wanted me to meet with some boys, but other than that— he never really hit me. Just screaming, usually. I guess I just caught him on an off day"
Tim is far more forthcoming than Jason had expected, but that might be because of the fever.
"Yeah, I call bullshit. That's not an off-day, not when he doesn't usually do this. He a drunk?"
Tim nods and Jason's heart pounds in his chest. His rage, that a few hours ago had burnt for his Replacement was quickly disappearing. He was just getting increasingly more annoyed with Bruce. How had the man not caught this? This wasn't new, by the sound of it, and this was the second Robin Batman had utterly failed to protect. What would’ve happened had Jason just taken the opportunity for an easy target? Another dead Robin and Batman would’ve been none the wiser. This was precisely why a kid-sidekick was a shit idea. Because bullshit like this went undetected.
"I guess. He said he saw me coming through the window, and he just formed his own reasons for why? I mean, I swear it was just Robin, not- not-" Yeah, this was shaping up to be a real issue.
"So what? He saw ya' comin' through the window and he thought you'd been with some poor girl?" hell, Jason’s own dad probably would've giving him a shindig too but being kicked out? That still felt extreme. The rest of the color that had slowly found it’s way back onto Tim's face, left him abruptly. Suddenly, he looked around nervously, avoiding Jason's eyes. Ah, so not entirely correct.
"No? He thought it was a boy? Pissed because his son isn't a ladies man?" he hit the nail on the hat with that, as Tim shrunk into himself, nodding silently.
"Well, fuck him then. Nothin wrong with a bit of fun, no matter the sex. Sounds like a real asshole to me"
Tim gave a pathetic little noise somewhere between a sob and snort.
"'s my dad"
"Word of advice, brat, Dad's aren't all that, most of 'em suck ass"
Tim hums but obviously doesn’t believe him. That's fine, it took Jason 18 years to come to that conclusion.
"Well, get comfy whilst I call Dickiebird. Water's on tap"
Tim looks like he wants to protest but Jason isn't playing around.
"Nah-ah, tired little birdies can go back to sleep. Shush whilst the adults are talking"
In actuality, Jason really doesn't want to call his not-brother, but he's also not the guy to house an abused teen. He's more likely to encourage Tim to fucking murder his dad than he is to calm him down. And he's not really all touchy-feely.
The line rings twice before someone picks up. Jason only has the number because Roy has the number, so Dick definitely doesn't know who's calling. That should work in his favor.
"Missing somethin'? A little song-bird maybe?" he asks, before Dick can get a word in edgewise.
"Who is this? What have you done to Robin?" Nightwing’s all business now and it would’ve been funny to taunt him, if he didn't have a beaten up Tim on his couch.
"Chillax dude. Come and get him in safe-house 23, fair warning; he's a little banged up"
"I swear if you've done something to him-"
He doesn't let Dick finish and ends the call. He wishes flip-phones were still a thing, it would've been more satisfying. Instead, he busies himself with making some tea. He's not looking forward to facing big-brother N’ but he also can't seem to let go off Tim.
The boy's intently watching the TV as if he has to try to be more endearing. Jason sets the chamomile tea down gently on the table and joins him. It's just getting to the good part when his door gets kicked down because the big bird doesn't have a stealthy bone in his body.
Jason sighs and sips his tea, sending a look to Tim who had startled at the noise but is trying to act calm. It’s not working.
"You're scaring the local bird population, 'wing." He snipes. But the Dick doesn't even look at him, rushing to Tim’s side and peppering his face with kisses.
"We were so worried about you, Timbo! You just disappeared!"
"You aren't the most observant, are ya?" Jason says drily and isn't even surprised to have an escrima stick in his face. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.
"What did you do to him?"
"Me?" Jason asks, with fake confusion.
"Why I simply cleaned his wounds and fixed him right back up, but fuck you too asshole"
Dick turned back to Tim, studying him more closely. "Is that true baby-bird?“ Jason would gag from all the cheesiness but he fears this is not the time or place.
"Hood didn't do anythin'" Tim agrees. He melts into each and every one of Dick's touches, just like Jason had predicted. And he ignores the treacherous ache in him that screams for a hug and a gentle kiss to the cheek of his own. He's a grown ass crime-lord, he doesn't need a hug. Especially not from a guy who didn't even come to his funeral.
"Does your dad know where you are? He's probably super worried!“ he asks, proving once again that bats are dumb as anything. Jason almost throws the peanuts he's been snacking on at his head.
"Hey douchebag, his dad is the least of our problems. In fact, his feelings are about to be a lot more hurt."
And finally, it seemed to click because Dick's eyes widened comically behind his domino.
"Tim- did your dad do this?"
"He did because he's a homophobic douchebag, we've established that already. And then he kicked poor old Timmy outta the house. So really, all I'm in need off is an address, then you two can go jumping through flower-fields or whatever. "
He's aching for blood right now, wants to break each and every bone in his body. But Tim is staring at him with eyes wide as saucers and he folds like a wet blanket.
"You're not gonna hurt him, right?" Tim's voice is barely louder than a whisper. Jason grins, "maybe only a little bit"
He could tell Dick was torn between disapproval of maiming civilians and his own righteous anger. He would wager a guess that Dickiebird wouldn't be stopping him anytime soon.
"C'mon baby-bird, we'll get you back to the manor. Alfred's probably waiting with some hot-chocolate."
Jason also wants hot chocolate but he bites his tongue. He's forfeited that right some eight heads ago, and he doesn't regret it.
But then suddenly, there are arms wrapped tightly around his midriff and a small face pressed into his body-armor. He's so startled by it, he doesn't even protest, just wraps his arms around the shrimp of a kid like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He's careful not to actually touch his back, knows how it will ache in the days to come, but it does feel nice.
"Thank you, Jason" Tim whispers. He's not sure if any of the bats had ever acknowledged that they knew who Hood had been, but it feels important either way.
"Anytime, brat" he answers roughly and doesn’t dignify the big bird with a look. He's had enough emotions for the night, he had a child-abuser to hunt.