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Little Robin Redbreast
Sat upon a rail,
Niddle noble went his head,
Widdle waggle went his tail.
Little Robin Redbreast
Came to visit me,
This is what he whistled,
Thank you for my tea.
_________•••_________
It was an unfortunate night for Jason.
He was stuck on the manor, just like Odysseus was stuck on Calypso's island, because according to Bruce, quote on quote his own words: " You are still recovering from a concussion after you fell from a roof on the fire escape three floors below. Therefore, you are not allowed to leave the Manor before Alfred finds you stable enough to do so. "
Which was a ridiculous statement to make because he never was stable enough physically or mentally and he knew that the old man (Alfred) knows him well and this is his way of trapping him in order to feed him his chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and everything on his old British cookbook he had memorized through and through.
Of course, Bruce didn't dare to use the "I'm your father argument" or any other nonsensical argument of his to make him stay- having the knowledge from past encounters - that Jason would simply yeet himself out of the window the moment he finished his sentence. So, instead he pulled the good ol' "Alfred is concerned about you, please respect this poor old man's heart and stay " technique masking his own anxiety with the old man's interest of him. Pitiful truly.
He did not expect less from him honestly.
The old Bat had always been dramatic on every occasion.
He didn't agree with the whole show, obviously. He knew his body and its limits from all these years living within that flesh prison of his. He hadn't even hit his head that hard, he was just out for a hot minute or so, chilling on the fire escape with the stray cats. Or two minutes. Maybe it was three, but it definitely wasn't much time.
But hey! He got to live another day in this Wonderful city-he definitely wouldn't miss, didn't he?
Unfortunately for him Bruce got to see that (these damned new high tech lences), carried him to the batmobile and almost teleported back to the cave for immediate medical care.
Everyone else (and that means Alfred, Babs and Steph who were there in the moment) thought he had his head split open and dying, since Bruce apparently found it appropriate to make THE dramatic entrance carrying him inside the cave bridal style dead Robin style and commanding stuff around that didn't even made sense.
He had poor old man Alfred run too many unnecessary tests and a full checkup from head to toe, just for the treatment to be some ice cubes on a towel for the bruising. Pretty sure he took his chance checking up on him now that Jason could not bark back and disagree with him, the reason being his concussion and the mild headache that was starting make its appearance. And Jason didn't try to take the slight chance he had escaping to avoid upsetting the butler old man any further.
It was midnight when he was finally left in peace to rest without anyone bothering him about anything.
He was well fed (lasagna Thursday - stable tradition) and warm (double weighted blanket with the Hello kitty on - a kind gift from Steph) and comfortable on the manors couch (the soft orange one not the pretentious leather one and nope no more sleeping in the creepy old manor's rooms, not anymore nor on the med bay bed as Alfred commands) and he almost caught himself being in peace with himself in this place.
Almost...
So close to sleep but he couldn't let himself falter.
He could not let Bruce win. After all he was supposed to be still mad at him and a concussion would not change anything.
And that meant not accepting hospitality from him. (But he did accepted hospitality from Alfred hence his decision to stay for a little bit)
Till the so-called Manor's curfew passed and he got the chance to get the heck outta there he had to just wait three hours more.
He could wait.
He was a patient man.
And then his hand started to itch.
Not the standard itch.
It was the " You have to do something to distract me or else I'll make you pay attention by causing you actual neurological pain" type of itch.
He had to keep his hands moving just as his brain. Not too much to cause pain, not too little to let the thoughts come. Because they always lurked in the shadows in his mind. Always.
Maybe cooking would do the thing.
Most of the times worked.
Most.
He wasn't hungry, but he wasn't never full either, so what's some more food thrown into the void called his stomach?
An French omelet seemed nice.
Hopefully no-one would come to the kitchen this hour to annoy him - even Bats need sleep after all. (And we all know when you think that way you basically jinx yourself somehow to end up in the exact situation you were trying to avoid.)
And, oh boy , was he wrong yet again.
He recognized the faint pitter patter of feet coming closer behind him.
Robin's feet.
Robins always had the faintest of footing, swift and silent like a little bird. It was required in the job description to be this way. Okay, unofficially required. Birds are supposed to be stealthy either way especially small ones.
He was like that years ago before he got an upgrade on his flesh suit and now, he makes sound as a statement whether he likes it or not.
He didn't turn around. They say if you ignore your problems they'll go away eventually, right? That's what his father did anyway. Like father, like son. Weird how that phrase applied to both his legal parental figures...
He didn't have any mental energy left to talk to anyone -not on that day, not on that moment - he had passed already the limit of interacting with the bats an hour ago his social battery was drained, and backup batteries were running the system currently.
Not that Tim was the talkative one.
He knew that Robin would probably just get his horrible pint of mud mug coffee and scurry back to hide into his room like a hermit crab - just like he always does - to resume whatever activity he was currently occupied with.
And then he felt a pair of hands curling around his waist.
That was new.
Tim never confused him with the coffee machine.
It seems Jonathan's new juice had other features now.
He felt a weight slowly leaning on his back.
What in the world-
He barely contained himself from jerking away and making a mess, not to mention he almost bit his tongue trying to remain silent.
"What do you think you're doing, Timber?"
He growled trying to peel the teens hands of him, but the boy was latched on him like an octopus. Dick taught him well it seems.
"Jaayyyy.." Tim mumbled slurring his name like a stereotypical drunk man on a bar.
Jason's nose was sure that Tim didn't smell like anything funky, except day old coffee beans and a faint hint of stale Dorito dust. And his nose was never wrong.
It wasn't Fear Toxin neither Poison Ivy's pollen, or that old Whiskey Bruce "hid" on the dining room, heck not even cheap beer teens usually drink. What was he on? Hopefully nothing illegal he would have to give him a lecture about when he came back to his senses. But he didn't seem to have any weird symptoms except from fatigue and drowsiness. Probably he did in fact run out of coffee and his body took a toll on him before he could get his nightly refill.
"What do you want from me?"
Jason repeated still multitasking mentally and physically: one hand trying to stir the eggs on the pan for the omelet to stay fluffy, the other trying to get the octopus hands off his waist and his mind's last two functional braincells occupied trying to find a cause explaining Tim's behavior.
Tim said something indescribable and slumped forward with all his weight, which wasn't much, but it was enough to make him loose his balance for a moment and stumble forward on the counter.
"Tim", he warned again, "Can you behave? I don't have time for that. I'm cooking right now."
He did not want to scruff him like a cat and yeet him back into the nasty unclean abyss called his room, because against the popular belief he doesn't actually approve violent acts against animals , nor children, or children who look like sad stray wet animals (particularly racoons).
Tim squished his face between Jason's shoulder blades mumbling gibberish again.
Jason took a long breath bracing himself and then proceeded to put the pan aside from the heat, let down the utensils on his plate and turning around with great struggle to face the boy.
"Replacement" he called. It was a word forbidden to be used against anyone inside and outside the Manor (due to past trauma and frequent dramatic family discussions arguments) but he had to bring the big guns.
"Jayyyy!" Tim said, eyes half open looking at him, a little smile on his face.
Indeed, the cuteness didn't counter the fact that the boys eye bags had bags themselves and probably could act as a new features maybe even replacing his domino mask in the near future, if he continued this dark path of nonexistent self-care.
"You need sleep kid, not coffee if that's why you came downstairs."
"Yayyy.." The teen responded in a small voice, still with the same expression on his face looking at him in the eyes directly, a move that really signaled that something was going wrong.
"Tim, I'm starting to get scared. Can you stop now?"
Why did Bruce gathered unruly children like they were Pokémon, again? Next time he'll lecture him about his hoarding tendencies amongst other things.
"Stop?" Tim looked at him, confused , eyes shiny wet with tears "Me, leave ?"
"Oh, it's that bad you can't even form even full sentences anymore" Jason said.
"Forget explaining then, let's get you to sleep".
"Noo" Tim protested and pinned his legs to the ground stubbornly.
"What now?? Is it your room scary? Hm? Is that it? Want me to look for the monster under your bed, oh mighty Robin?" He said letting his sarcastic tone slip, because he started to get impatient and his growing headache was then just behind his left eye pulsating back and forth like a Roomba.
Tim made a sound that seemed to agree with the statement and buried his head in Jason's chest.
Jason sighed.
If he had a dollar each time something unexpected happened when he was in the manor, he'd have enough money to buy himself a chili dog. The special one with a side of fries- spicy as always with sour cream and onion sauce- and a tall soda. But of course, he couldn't have nice things in this life.
"I guess I can't get a break, can I in this household?"
He grabbed Tim by the collar of his PJs and picked him up like a kitten raccoon, raising him high enough so his hands won't reach his waist no more.
"Nooo" Tim cried out, hands flailing in desperation.
"I'll leave you on the chair there, you'll wait for three minutes, okay? Three minutes for me to finish the omelet and then get you to eat and then sleep, hmm?"
Tim didn't fight much back. His eyes were almost shut, hands still trying to reach him.
He plopped him on the chair which he had full visuals on without needing to turn away from the stove and resumed his cooking.
Replacement’s room was off limits by demand so the couch would do the job.
As for the omelet he had to abandon any dreams of himself eating it because he had to feed a certain someone for his stomach to stop protesting. He could hear it from across the kitchen. For real, this kid had the preservation skills of a cantaloupe.
A scrawny cantaloupe to be exact.
He didn't sign up for that.
He didn't get to flip it to the plate, Tim realized what happened, his eyes fluttered open and tried to stand up and come towards him.
"Uh uh uh, Little bird, don't you dare move, I'll come to you" Jason pointed a finger to the chair and waved him to go back. Tim stopped for a moment looking at him , proceeded to sit on the next chair which was nearest to him -his hand occupied with curling the fake plant's leaves on the kitchen island.
Robin was really down bad considering he just obeyed instructions without questioning them. From him. Truly a rare sight.
With the omelet done Jason brought the plate in front of the boy picking some with the fork- Tim's fork, of course, because its common knowledge that other utensils are icky - and bringing it close to his mouth, mentally regretting any life choice that led him there in that exact place and time.
"Open up, choo choo , the train is here!"
"What train?" Tim asked confused looking the omelet like it was radioactive sponge.
"The polar express... eat up and if you're good you might get a free ticket to see Santa too" Jason said trying to dodge the question because he just remembered that one of Tim's special interests was in fact Trains and he almost had awoken the beast of hyperfixation.
Tim bit some of the fork, without questioning him more, munching slowly. He got almost in the middle of the omelet and his eyes almost were shutting again, so Jason decided the train had to stop for the day.
He put the omelet on the fridge to finish up on the morning, if someone else didn't demolish it before him.
Then he picked Tim bridal tired raccoon style and brought him to the couch, in front of the now long gone shut out fireplace.
"Sleep now like all good Robins do, okay?" He tucked him well in the green - acceptable and certified by Tim texture- blanket making look like a sluggish caterpillar and shoved some more decorative pillows on the sides just for good measure, not to accidentally roll over and fall off, resulting in another round of "Anxiety Express Bruce Wayne" mode in the same day, which he definitely didn't want to suffer through.
Tim managed to get the small raccoon hand of his out of the cocoon stretching it towards him, while making the classic grabby motion.
Really? Jason thought That's how low you'll fall tonight?
"Jayyy"
"What now? You want me to be your personal heater too? You ask too much from me Timbelina"
"Jayyy" Tim said again his eyes glimmering on the light of the faraway lamp. This child was shamelessly using his natural puppy sad wet raccoon eyes to win him over, as if he didn't know this was a trap (and something he also did at least once at his age). But all castles fall eventually one way or another.
"I'd make a contract with you about boundaries, but you probably won't remember anything in the morning, so whatever" he muttered and laid on the couch besides the teen, shoving him aside a little to make space and re-wrapped the blanket around them.
"I won't forget that you owe me for tonight" Jason added with a side eye.
Tim just chirped and rested his head on his brother's shoulder smiling.
Jason unlogged the hand from his side and curled it around Tim's shoulders keeping him in place. Just in case he tried to escape in the morning before his lecture about self-care.
Unexpectedly his fingers started slowly combing Robin's hair - surprising himself with the fact that there's even a lower level to go than that he had already fell into - and he started humming a nursery rhyme tune from the old days.
Robin's Song
The song from the days he does not bring forward on his brain anymore, if they still exist in the back of his head and haven't perished
Tim's grin grew wider with each stroke till it couldn't go further, so the boy decided to make a purring sound to show his appreciation. And that was weird coming from a creature looking like a raccoon. Jason learned new things every day.
But it was pure torture really. He would prefer them to rub salt on his wounds the classic way by passive aggressively lecturing him about his life choices instead of treating him nice like that - even unintentionally.
Why would he deserve kindness either way?
And alas the Great Fort finally fell and the wall crumbled and perished...
Well at least the first one...
It didn't take long for Tim to fall asleep Jason followed him not long after.
-------------------°°°-------------------
Morning Tim was acting way too sassy and defensive gaslighty that made Jason think he was hallucinating last night, but the blackmail photos Stef took had proven that he was actually sane (against popular belief).
Tim still denied everything and drank his standard pint of black coffee to start his day, avoided an incoming octopus hug from Dick, dodged a close hand-landing aiming for a headpat from Bruce and holed back into in his room.
And yet somehow they ended up like that next week too.
Jason was prepared next time and juggled Tim to Dickhead's room after shoving him into a sleeping bag.
Mission failed: Dick caught him red handed and dragged him to the bed to end up in a pile together sleeping till morning.
After another incident - named Stefanie - Jason's suffering through physical intimacy became a usual occurrence in Wayne residence from that point on, so Jason ended up in the conclusion that he should stop feeding stray Robins raccoons no matter what.
PS: That statement didn't stand for a long time because Damian came to be and led Jason to his demise of being a big brother and was also the cause of his unending suffering, which was to make French omelets each Sunday for all of them and have sleep overs later.