Chapter Text
“B, you know I can’t do that. I told you I was busy.” Jason mumbled. He was settled on a rooftop, helmet resting on his left and a warm body on his right. The wind burned his cheeks as he glanced at the teenager, seemingly fast asleep on his shoulder.
He wasn’t, obviously, and proved it easily when he glared up at the man. Ice blue eyes glared at Jason, crinkling as he pretended to zip his mouth close. Tim followed the scars of his smile as he did so, making Jason shake his head disapprovingly.
“No, I know, but–” Jason ran a hand through his hair. “I told you I was busy for a reason– if you want me to come help, I will have to bring someone along.”
Tim perked up at that, feet kicking frantically against the concrete. He seemed to vibrate in his spot, fingers curled in Jason’s leather jacket. When Jason glanced at him he nodded, so violently that his grown-out green hair whipped around.
Jason’s frown grew. “There’s no argument about it. I’m not working today and I have prior arrangements, so if you want help it’s on my terms.” There was a second of silence, and Jason pulled on his helmet. “Ok. We’re on our way. O, send me the directions.”
“What’re we doing!” Tim pressed his face against Jason’s jacket, smearing pale makeup onto it. Jason was unsure if Tim actually wore makeup, or if it was somehow chemically incorporated into him. Kind of fucked up, to be honest. “Are we helping Daddy-Bats?”
“Don’t call him that.” Jason responded on impulse, shoving Tim’s face away. He rubbed against the white, hoping that it would come off. “But yeah.”
Tim hopped up, dancing across the roof. “Exciting!” He exclaimed, kicking up the gravel with his torn shoes. Jason made a note to buy the teenager some proper boots. Tim cartwheeled twice, almost off of the edge of the building, before skipping back to Jason with a cheek-splitting smile. “I can’t wait to meet him!”
“I’m sure you can’t.” Jason snatched one of his guns of Tim, unaware that he’d somehow been pickpocketed. “I’m gonna get you one of those– fuckin’-- baby backpacks. The ones with the leads.”
“That’s fucked up.” Tim shook his head, contorting himself back to look at Jason. It was something Jason would never get used to; the way the boy seemed to move in an impossible way, especially in the starch suit he adorned. Each odd stretch bared bruises and electric bites, all across his ribs and down his arms. They were interrupted by burn marks, awfully dark against his skin. “Turn that frown upside-down!” He muttered to himself as he stood back up, skipping over to a couple pigeons that’d landed on their roof.
“Leave the birds alone.” Jason groaned, having been a witness to the last time Tim decided he’d capture a pigeon and make it a pet. He’d actually left halfway through, so Jason wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Tim didn’t have a secret, domesticated bird. Or a whole network of them. He was convinced the boy didn’t go to school. “They don’t want your grubby fingers touching them.”
“My fingers are perfectly clean, fuck -you very much!” Tim wiggled his gloved fingers at Jason, then bit one of them off to display a bare middle finger. Jason reeled slightly at the lack of proper nails, half-grown back and painted black. “Boom.”
“You’re not proving any point.” Jason responded, jumping forward to grab Tim’s wrist. “Put you’re gloves back on, shithead, and let’s go.”
Jason had met Tim – or JJ, as he muttered to himself a lot, – almost five months ago. He’d found the boy skipping across rooftops, his face painted white and a Joker-smile stained on his face, singing to himself.
It’d scared Jason because, all of a sudden, he was face-to-face with a miniature version of his worst nightmare, humming tunes that the Joker would when he hunted down Robins’. He’d pulled his gun on the kid, demanding to know what the fuck he was doing, and Tim had just laughed. Absolutely pissed himself laughing, arms curling around his stomach as he doubled over.
That had freaked Jason out worse. He’d pressed his gun to the kid’s forhead and Tim had leaned into it, sighing as the cold metal left imprints on his skin. And laughed. It’d shocked him so bad that Tim skipped off. He sang louder, heels purposely scuffing the floor as he disappeared into the Gotham skyline, leaving Jason absolutely gobsmacked.
The next time he saw the boy dumpster-diving, almost five weeks after their first interaction. Purple converse stuck out of the bin, kicking happily as he pulled scraps and junk out. Jason stopped behind him, clearing his throat to catch the boy’s attention. A hand stuck out, gesturing hold on a sec.
“Hey Red Hood.” He giggled, hauling himself out of the bin. He practically collapsed, tucking his legs under him as he rummaged through his pile. “What do you want?”
“Nothing.” Jason responded, eyes trained on the teenager. He was freakishly skinny, legs covered in bruises and a constant tremor running through his body. “You were making a lot of noise.”
“And? This your dumpster?” Tim pulled a backpack out, loading his new collection into it. “Exactly. What’s over there?” He gasped, pointing behind Jason’s shoulder with a face of perfect horror.
Jason, ever the idiot, turned, spouting swears when there was shit-all there. Fuck, he was stupid. The teenager had disappeared when Jason had swivelled back round, his giggles still echoing throughout the alley.
“You’re not wearing the jacket I gave you.” Jason noted, following the directions Oracle was feeding through his comm. “You’re gonna catch your death.”
“Fingers crossed!” Tim sung, arms outstretched like he was on a balance beam. “Pretty pathetic way to go, though.”
“You’re fucking insane.” Jason groaned. He pressed a hand against his mask, an impulse in trying to ward off a headache. “Right here.”
“Are we there yet?” Tim whined. He glanced back at Jason, a huge, childish pout on his lips. “I can’t wait to meet Daddy-bats!”
“If you call him that to his face I will kill you.” Jason growled at Tim’s amused face, slipping a gun from his holster to back his bluff.
Tim’s laugh echoed and, all of a sudden, he was gone. Jason was genuinely considering the toddler leashes– that way he could make sure Tim also had a safe space to stay. And an accessible way to yank him out of fights, because the boy had the tendency to just go, go out of his body and god knows where, with no warning. It shaved years off of Jason’s life, every time.
“You can try!” He called, appearing two rooftops over. He was cradling a pigeon, stroking it’s head like some movie villain. “The birds wont let you!”
“I already told you, the pigeons aren’t good protection.”
“I’m not on about those birds, idiot.” Tim laughed, pointing a shaking finger to the left of them. “I’m on about those birds.”
“Nightwing.” Jason bit out, and all of a sudden Tim was back at his side, pressed against him like a shy toddler. “Hey.”
“Hey J.” Dick responded, his focus definitley not on Jason. He copied Tim when the boy cocked his head, probably wondering why the Joker-incarnate was latched onto his younger brother. Which, honestly, valid. “Hey, kiddo.”
Tim’s chest puffed out, and it dawned on Jason that this was going to be the biggest mistake he’d ever made. “I’m fifteen, fuck -you very much.” And that was a new catchphrase, ok, brilliant. “Don’t talk to me.” He stomped his foot and crossed his arms, a little tantrum to perfectly contradict what he was saying.
Tim had slipped, kind of, into his little persona. The one that Jason believed was closer to the JJ he muttered about. It’d taken ages, and a shit-load of takeout, for Jason to get Tim to behave normally around him.
It was weird, but he felt kind of privileged that he knew what was the persona and what wasn’t. Mostly.
“I just want to know your name.” Dick didn’t give up, crouching to Tim’s height and using his child-voice. It only pissed Tim off more, and in a proper way, because Jason felt him stiffen this time.
“Good for ya.” Tim laughed. “And I’d love to know your–” Jason’s hand slammed over Tim’s mouth, the thick leather making it easier for him to ignore the rabid biting.
“Behave. We talked about this.” He lectured, knowing full well that Tim was probably about to name-drop Nightwing’s secret identity. Jason wasn’t sure how Tim came upon the knowledge, just that he knew it.
“Dick.” He cursed, and Jason gritted his teeth. The kid was really pushing his luck today, and they’d only interacted with Dick so far. God knows how he’d be with Bruce. “Fuck you, snookums .” The sentence was muffled, but the Harley-Quinn-esque influence was strong. Tim slipped into it when he was annoyed.
“Fiesty. He reminds me of Robin.” Dick laughed, loud and jovially.
Tim joined in, but his laughter was underlined with panic, and something Jason couldn’t discern. Distress, almost. The pale face was pressed into his jacket again, and Jason mourned the sleep he was going to lose trying to get the makeup off.
Dick’s laughter trailed off awkwardly, and he took a step away from the two. “B will be here any minute now, and then if you can help? It’s Scarecrow, and we just need a little distraction.”
Tim was back in the conversation, climbing on Jason and clinging onto his shoulders. “Scarecrow!” He seemed absolutely thrilled with the development. “Can I do it. Please ?” Jason knew the boy was pulling his stupid, puppy-dog pout that— if his face wasn’t scarred to all hell– would have any adult rushing to say yes. His feet kicked into Jason’s back, complimenting the bruising the man got from being used as a human climbing-frame. “I promise I’m a good distraction!”
“That he is.” Jason agreed. The amount of productive shit Tim stopped him from doing was monumental. Tim’s hands drummed against Jason’s helmet.
“Are you sure? I don’t think B will agree with it.”
“Daddy-bats isn’t here yet.” Tim said. “And Scarecrow is.” He pointed towards the villain, who was creeping down the alleyway pretty pathetically. “Let me at ‘im!” He jumped off Jason’s shoulders, who caught him with an arm around his waist. “Please, please, please!”
Dick regarded Jason with a look, one that the man couldn’t decipher, and shrugged. Jason discarded Tim to the floor, and the boy rolled around for a whole three seconds before popping up and animatedly dusting himself off. “Sorry, excited. Bye!”
“We should probably get a move on.” Jason nudged Dick with his shoulder, his brother’s focus on the gravel snow-angel Tim left. “He tends to get annoying, fast.”
“Yeah.” Dick agreed, setting off into a sprint.
Jason ran after him, the two falling into the short harmony they’d had when everything was so much simpler. “Oh, ignore the screaming. Some rogues are, well, scared of him.” The sentence was perfectly punctuated by Scarecrows exclamations, and begs, and panicked oh no oh no oh no’s.
Dick was definitely bringing this up to Bruce.