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One would think that Jason’s muscles would ache most fiercely after a busy patrol, but that wasn’t true at all. His knuckles and fists ached after the nights when everyone and their mother decided they were going to commit felonies at the same time, but his legs and arms ached down to the bones after the quiet patrols when they had to run and swing and climb forever just to find a single mugging. Fucking—freaking, he had to stop swearing in his head so much or he’d do it out loud and have to lose even more money to the swear jar. Freaking Tuesdays.
But finally, finally, they were home—the Manor was home now, and wasn’t that a trip—and Jason could finally fall face down into his bed. He was asleep within minutes.
Jason woke to the cold fingers of death brushing against his ankle. He did not shriek, as Bruce called that sound. He screamed a terrifying war cry and threw himself at the monster with the fury of a scalded cat.
His fist landed with a dull thud on the thick duvet covering his bed, but that didn’t stop the blow entirely or his absolute horror when his idiot little brother cried out and pulled away his frigid goblin toes away.
“Tim!” Jason gasped.
Tim rolled onto his stomach and burrowed into the blankets with a whine of distress. Jason threw the blankets off both of them and shot up onto his knees to yank the lamp cord, and hell. He was a horrible person and the worst brother imaginable. Hitting Tim was like smacking a baby, except the baby wasn’t Jason’s fucking responsibility and not even babies could master the art of looking as fuc—as freaking Sad™ as Tim.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Are you sick?” Jason demanded, quickly scanning him for injuries.
Tim groaned in protest and tried to pull the blankets back over himself, but Jason scowled and rolled Tim onto his back so he could check Tim for blood or a fever, or any of the horrible things that could happen to a shrimpy little kid like Tim when he was alone because Bruce couldn’t get the Drakes to agree to let them keep Tim while they were gone and because Jason wouldn’t let Bruce report the Drakes to CPS and because Tim was so scared of “imposing” that he wouldn’t just live at the Manor anyway and because Bruce refused to use his stupid amount of money to bribe a judge just once so they could keep Tim. They wouldn’t even have to tell Bruce that Tim was living there. Tim could just sleep in Jason’s stupid huge bed or in the giant closet, but the shrimp noodle wouldn’t do it. Alfred would know, just because he was Alfred and knew about everything Jason hid, but Alfred liked Tim, so it would be okay. Bruce liked Tim too, but Bruce was an idiot who cared about “the law” only when it said you couldn’t steal your neighbor’s kid, but not when it said you couldn’t steal the kid who stole your tires or that you can’t be Batman.
Jason had to practically lie on top of Tim to slap the back of his hand to Tim’s forehead so he could check Tim’s temperature. Tim was maybe a little cold, but he didn’t have a fever and he didn’t look hurt anywhere that Jason could see.
Which raised the question of why Tim had walked an entire mile across their lawns in the middle of the night just to crawl into Jason’s bed.
If he wasn’t hurt, and he wasn’t sick, that didn’t leave Jason many options.
“Hey, Tim,” Jason said, copying Dickhead’s stupid yet stupidly effective calming voice. “What’s up?”
“Gas prices?” he offered with a wobbly voice and a pathetic sniffle.
Jason rolled off of Tim but stayed close enough to wrap an arm around Tim. Tim leaned into the touch but buried his face against the bed.
Jason had never really been the best at comforting people, but he knew that Tim would talk when he was ready. Until then, Jason would just exist near Tim.
While Tim sniffed and shuddered and occasionally swiped his nose into Jason’s sheets in an attempt to hide the fact that he was crying, Jason pulled the blanket back over them and scratched his fingers in circles through Tim’s hair.
It was…strange, but even though Tim was upset and Jason was exhausted and sore, he’d kind of…missed this. The quiet moments, just the two of them. Most the time, it was Jason and Tim and someone or someones, and Jason liked that. He did like it, because having a family was so much better than living all alone on the streets, only able to trust his stalker, but Jason also liked the quietness of being alone with his baby brother.
Finally, Tim lifted his face from the pillow and plopped it onto Jason’s shoulder, and dang, that boy had a heavy head. Jason shifted subtly to get the weight of it all off his already aching joint without making Tim think that Jason didn’t want him there.
“I—I—” Tim mumbled.
“Bad dream?” Jason suggested.
Tim whimpered and nodded in agreement. “I didn’t wanna be alone.”
Jason sighed and hugged Tim closer. Tim was only a ten year old, but he had to wake up in a giant house, all alone, terrified, then walk a mile in the dark, unless he rode his bike, to get a hug from the random street kid who loved him more than his own parents did. And sure, Jason had had it rough when he was ten, but somehow ten year old Jason seemed so much older than ten year old Tim.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason doubted Tim would, since Tim didn’t like talking about things that made him sad, but he wanted to make sure Tim knew that he could if he wanted to.
Tim hesitated, then reached over Jason and felt around till he found Jason’s hand. Jason gave Tim’s hand a reassuring squeeze and waited.
“Are—” Tim started, his voice squeaking with fear. “Are you going to forget about me?”
Jason smacked the back of Tim’s head and rolled his eyes. “No, you idiot.”
Tim sniffled. “But I’m so boring.”
“You stalk Batman for fun.”
“And I don’t know how to be cool like you.”
“I’m training you.”
“And—and even my mom and dad left, so you’re gonna leave, and—and—”
Tim burst into tears and threw himself over top of Jason, his whole little body trembling violently. Jason, breathless, wrapped Tim in the hug he needed and whispered quiet nice things in Tim’s ear.
“Your parents suck, Tim. Do I suck?”
Tim sobbed. “N—Noooo.”
“Then I’m not gonna leave you, dummy,” Jason told him firmly. “I’m staying right here with you.”
“But what about when you go to college?” Tim cried.
“I’ll take you with me. You’ll fit in a suitcase.”
“But what if you run away?”
“Why the fu—uuudge would I run away? Where would I even go?”
Tim made a helpless questioning noise. “I don’t know! Ethiopia?”
Jason paused. “Why in the world would I want to go to Ethiopia?”
Tim shook his head. “But what if you die?”
“I’m not going to die,” Jason sighed. He couldn’t really be sure, but he was Robin, and Robin gave him magic. Even if he died, he’d probably come back or something. He hoped he’d get pants for his next suit if he came back.
“But—” Tim’s next anxiety was cut off by the slow whisper of the door opening.
“Boys?” Bruce loomed in the doorway like a boogeyman, and Jason could feel Tim flinch. “Is something wrong?”
Bruce and Jason waited a moment for Tim to explain, but it became very clear very fast that that wasn’t going to happen. Jason squeezed Tim’s shoulder gently.
“Tim had a bad dream,” Jason said.
Tim flinched again.
Bruce made an appropriate sympathetic noise and crossed the room in a few large steps to sit on the edge of the bed. Tim was stiff on a board, like he thought Bruce was gonna slap him or something. Bruce wasn’t like that, though. It was one of Jason’s favorite things about Bruce.
Bruce laid a heavy hand on Tim’s back and rubbed up and down until Tim shuddered and relaxed at last.
“I’m sorry about that, Tim,” Bruce soothed. “Would you like to talk—”
“No,” Jason answered for Tim.
“I see. That’s fine,” Bruce allowed. He didn’t sound super happy about it, just kind of…sad. Maybe…maybe not being able to take Tim in legally bothered Bruce more than Jason had given him credit for.
“I’m sorry I woke you up, B—Bruce,” Tim whispered. He still sounded nervous, but at least it was Bruce this time instead of Mr. Wayne or the more startling Batman. Bruce thinking that Jason had spilled the beans to impress Tim had not been a fun way to find out that Tim had apparently figured out who Batman was several months before he’d even met Jason.
“You’re not a bother, Tim,” Bruce promised, just like he said every time Tim apologized for something dumb. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I am!” It would have sounded more convincing if Tim hadn't still been crying. How Tim was keeping their secret was beyond Jason, because Tim was a really awful liar.
“I know, Tim. You’re very brave.” Bruce was clearly onto Tim’s lying ass—butt, his lying butt, but he—No, ass, because butt, but sounded stupid even in Jason’s internal monologue. Besides, ass was only a twenty-cent word, and Bruce gave him a big enough allowance that he could afford a few slip ups and still squirrel away the rest for just in case.
Tim probably knew that Bruce knew too, but he took the easy way out that Bruce had given him and pretended that everyone didn’t know he was still crying.
“Tim,” Bruce prompted.
“Y—yes, sir?”
Bruce’s expression tightened, and it looked like he was about to tell Tim you don’t need to call me sir again, but Jason’s glare cut him off. Now was not the time to try to get Tim to be more comfortable with talking to Bruce. They could do that later.
Bruce tilted his head in a slight nod, indicating that he understood. “Why don’t you stay here for a few days? Alfred can drive you to school, and Jason would love to have you.”
Before Tim could panic nope the idea, Jason jumped onto it. “Yeah, Tim. We can have sleepover.”
Sleepover being secret code for slightly illegal adoption, but that was semantics. Tim would appreciate it someday.
Jason could feel Tim’s hesitation, and, for a moment, he thought Tim was going to say no.
Instead, Tim rolled onto his back and stared up at Bruce for a long time in that searching way he had. Bruce met Tim’s eyes with a gentle, sad smile.
“Bruce?” Tim asked at last.
“Yes?”
Tim took a deep breath. “D—do you hate me?”
“No, Tim?”
Tim’s eyes filled with even more tears, and he wordlessly raised shaking arms. Bruce’s smile deepened, and he leaned down to wrap Tim up in a hug. Jason knew from experience that Bruce hugs were the safest, warmest thing ever. Not even Tim could be scared in one.
Jason laid his hand on Tim’s back. “It’s okay, Tim. We’ve got you.”
Legally or illegally, for the night or forever, Tim was theirs, and nothing was going to hurt him while they were there.