Chapter Text
1. Jason
“I’m telling you, Jay, he’s plotting something,” Dick says from where he’s hovering above Jason, spotting him while he lifts weights.
“Plotting what?” Jason huffs. A bead of sweat drips down his temple and into his ear. Gross.
“I don’t know exactly, but I know he feels threatened by Tim being Robin, and he doesn’t want to listen to me.”
It’s only been a little over a week since they went on their Damian rescue mission. The kid’s resilient as hell, but going from living as a prince to living in Gotham of all places is a major adjustment. It makes sense that Damian doesn’t trust Dick just yet, and it makes sense that Damian would feel uncertain about his place with Bruce when there’s another boy working as his partner.
At least Talia came around to the change and set a few things in order. It helps for Damian to have his relationship with his mother intact. It also helps that she got the GCPD to stop the manhunt for Batman. Small mercies.
Jason lifts the weights one final time and releases the bar. Shaking out his arms, he sits up on the bench. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you.” Dick leans his hip against the bar, crosses his arms over his chest. “Now are we going to spar? Because I was promised a spar.”
They’re in the Red Hood’s gym, which is basically an old warehouse that Jason bought under an alias and filled with equipment. It’s got the bench press, a leg press, a couple of treadmills, some training mats. Nowhere near the Batcave or the League, but it’s enough to keep himself and his men in fighting form.
“Yeah, yeah.” He grabs his water bottle off the floor and drinks half of it in one go. With a sloppy movement, the back of his hand is used to wipe the extra droplets off his mouth. He runs his fingers through sweaty hair and stands. “Hope you’re ready to get your ass handed to you.”
Dick’s grin is gleeful. “You’re on.”
Twenty minutes later, Dick is still grinning and Jason is scowling up at his brother as if he’s just found out Dick was personally responsible for everything bad that’s ever happened in the world.
“You cheated,” Jason spits.
“You can’t cheat if there are no rules,” Dick sing-songs, his hands on his hips.
“Faking an injury is rude and inappropriate. That’s an unspoken rule.”
“Well maybe you should have spoken it.”
“You’re a dirty cheater!”
“Seriously?” Dick plops down on the mat in front of Jason and leans back on his hands. “That’s rich, coming from Mr. Duffle Bag Full Of Heads.”
“That was one time.”
“Tell that to the people the heads belonged to.”
Somehow, Jason’s scowl deepens. “I liked you better when you were in awe of my very existence.”
The smile on Dick’s face does this weird twisting thing and morphs into a frown. “I’m still in awe of your existence.”
Okayyyy, that’s enough. This thing with Dick was supposed to be a distraction from the upcoming Event. It was meant to give him something to do while he waited for late afternoon to arrive, something that had nothing to do with dying and coming back and all the other nonsense that entails.
“Idiot.” Jason reaches out and shoves his brother—Dick drops dramatically backwards onto the mat. Luckily, the frown mostly slips away.
“You want a Zesti?” Jason pushes up off the floor and heads for the mini fridge he keeps stocked with protein shakes and electrolyte drinks and now, because of Tim’s obsession, also Zesti colas.
“Sure.” Then, when Jason is on his way back, “How much longer we got?”
Jason glances at a clock that hangs on the wall. “Half an hour. Gotta get back and shower.”
Dick hums. “We should do this more often.”
“We’re setting clear rules next time,” Jason deadpans.
The gleeful grin returns. “Bet you twenty bucks I’ll still win.”
What a smug jerk. Jason is totally going to win. “You’re on.”
*****
Everything is as perfect as it can be for a tiny apartment that was never intended to be permanent. It’s a safe house more than it is a home, which has never bothered Jason up until this very moment. Now he stands in the center of his shoebox of a kitchen and sees nothing but its flaws. The cracks in the granite, the baseboards pulling away from the walls, the discoloration on the ugly popcorn ceiling. It didn’t matter when it was Dick and Tim and Bart bombarding him, but this is different. This is Alfred.
He’s keeping his promise, for the most part. The Joker is dead and he is having afternoon tea with Alfred—just not at the manor. He’s still furious at Bruce, and also confused by him, and a dozen other things that he cannot put into words. It feels like a knot tied in his belly. And for someone heavily trained in untying knots and getting himself out of many different kinds of binds, he’s still grossly untrained in the art of untangling his own emotions.
It was kind of Alfred to agree to have tea at Jason’s apartment, giving him a loophole in the promise he offhandedly made. If Alfred could make the effort to take the promise seriously, then so can Jason. That still doesn’t make it easy.
His new kettle, at the very least, is worthy of Alfred. A gift from Tim, taken from his big house full of cookware that is scarcely used. The kid said it’s been living in a cabinet for at least a decade. A healthy scrub left it shining and ready to sit proudly on Jason’s dinky little stovetop.
There’s a knock at the door, and suddenly Jason’s heart is beating far too fast. He moves robotically to the door and somehow manages to undo the locks. One moment his palms are sweating, and the next he is being pulled into a hug so fierce it takes his breath away. Alfred’s arms are a bit more frail than they used to be, but they hold the same love as ever.
When the older man pulls way, his hands landing on Jason’s shoulders, there is a heavy lump in the younger man’s throat.
“I have missed you, dear boy,” Alfred says, dark eyes shining. “Know that I would have done anything to bring you home.”
Jason believes him.
There was no reason to be so nervous about his apartment, Jason quickly realizes. Alfred makes no comment on the state of things, but rather orders Jason to rest while the tea is prepared. So he leans against the counter and watches and feels a lot like that young boy who stole the tires off the Batmobile and ended up in a new family.
It’s been a long while since he’s found himself being cared for. Someone needed to be there for Damian, and someone needed to protect Crime Alley, and someone needed to step in and give Tim and his friends a safety net. He wouldn’t change any of that, but that doesn’t make it weightless. Even now, there is a whole list of things and people to care for.
He needs to talk to Damian about antagonizing Tim. He needs to find out what’s up with Tim; there’s something suspicious going on in that kid’s head and he can’t figure out what. He needs to make a plan to help the unhoused community of Crime Alley survive the upcoming colder months. The list goes on, and it never really ends. But here, for afternoon tea with Alfred, perhaps he can set the weight down for a little while.
“Here you are,” Alfred says shortly after, placing a steaming mug in Jason’s hands.
“Thanks, Alfie,” Jason says. He leads the way into the living room and takes a seat on one end of the couch. Alfred follows suit.
“Now, it seems I have missed out on several years of your life,” Alfred says seriously. “Tell me everything.”
Jason hides his smile in his mug, takes a scalding sip, decides that some things are better left unspoken, and begins the Alfred Safe version of events. It’s the best afternoon he’s had in a while.
2. Tim
“Do you think it’s some sort of test?” Tim asks from his spot sprawled out on Stephanie’s bed. Steph sits next to him, her tongue poking out from between her teeth as she focuses on painting her toenails a bright purple. It’s adorable.
“Could be,” she says after a moment. “Or it could be a sort of training exercise? Like to make sure you’re being careful or whatever.”
“Maybe.”
“Or,” Steph pauses in her painting to meet his gaze, a hint of mischief in her eyes, “it could be the other thing.”
Tim groans. “Not this again.”
“Yes! Some day you’ll have to admit it. You’re just so adoptable.”
“Am not,” Tim pouts.
“Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Jason, Oracle, the Huntress—”
“Okay, okay, I get it!”
Steph grins, triumphant, and returns to her task. “Maybe he just wants to spend time with you because he’s mentally adopted you and feels it’s his brotherly duty to keep you safe.”
Tim flops from his side onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, his mood souring. “Jason doesn’t think of me as a brother.”
“Sure, and my name’s Rodrigo.”
“I mean it, Steph. He’s got Damian now—and Damian hates me, by the way—and he’s slowly figuring things out with the rest of the family. I bet he asked me to patrol with him so he can find a way to tell me that he’s too busy to deal with me anymore.”
Steph sighs. There’s a bit of shuffling, and then her face comes into view directly above his, her hair falling around her, encircling Tim. Her eyes are so blue. Tim’s heart starts jumping rope.
“Tim. I love you, but sometimes you can be so stupid.”
Holy crap. They’ve never said those words before. “Did you just—”
“Call you stupid?” Steph nods and her hair brushes against his cheek. “Absolutely.”
Tim can’t help it; his face breaks out into the widest, goofiest grin to ever exist. He leans up and presses a quick kiss to his girlfriend’s lips. “I love you too.”
Steph rolls her eyes, but her cheeks go red and her own grin grows to match his.
All too soon, Stephanie shifts back, doing a weird little twist to the side with her feet in the air. It takes a moment for Tim to realize what’s happening, and then he bursts into laughter.
“Your toenails are still wet.”
“Yes,” Steph says, completing her twist and landing with her feet safely planted back on the bed. “And I didn’t mess up a single one.”
“Such talent.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“Yeah,” Tim says fondly. “I really do.”
*****
It’s difficult to hold onto the high of his hangout with Steph as Tim tromps through the torrential downpour the sky has decided to bestow upon Gotham city. Technically, he was supposed to have Bruce drive him directly to where he’s meant to meet up with one of Jason’s “best men”, but he’s sort-of-kind-of avoiding talking to Bruce at the moment. Not that Bruce seems to care—he’s too busy trying to keep Damian from maiming anyone who gets too close.
It’s just that he doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want the inevitable conversation, the push to step down and hand his costume over to some other kid that he can’t even call an interloper because he’s Bruce’s biological child. So he’s been side-stepping the older man and pretending everything is normal, even though it doesn’t feel remotely so.
The Batmobile drove them most of the way into the city, with Tim fighting with all his might to sit still under the discomfort of being alone with Bruce. He kept casting quick glances at the man’s jaw, wondering when it would unclench and speak something Tim had no desire to hear. Still nearly a mile from the meet-up location and pulled up to a stoplight, Bruce’s jaw had unlocked and Tim had decided it was best to jump ship.
“Close enough,” he declared and flung the Batmobile’s passenger door open. “Thanks, B!”
“Robin!” Bruce hissed, but Tim was already shoving his umbrella open and practically leaping out of the car. He slammed the door shut and booked it down the street.
Unfortunately for Tim, it was not only pouring down rain but also windy. Umbrellas do very little when the rain decides to hit you sideways. So now he’s soaking wet and having to swipe his domino clean every thirty seconds. His bangs are sticking to his forehead and his cape is clinging to his sides as he marches up to the intersection where he’s supposed to meet Jason’s lackey.
“Robin, what were you thinking?” Bruce demands through Tim’s comm for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes.
“Just needed some fresh air!” Tim chirps back.
“That’s not—” Bruce cuts himself off and huffs; it’s all staticky through the comm. “We will be discussing this later.”
Because Bruce can’t see him, Tim makes a face and mouths discussing this later with great exaggeration, and then clicks his comm off.
There’s a pretty basic black car parked exactly where Jason said it would be. Tim tromps over and taps on the passenger side window. The window rolls down only a couple of inches, likely in attempt to keep the rain out.
“Metropolis sucks,” Tim says.
“And Batman’s a loser,” the man in the driver’s seat replies. Tim rolls his eyes at Jason’s safety code and tugs on the door handle.
“Hold on,” the man says before Tim can climb inside. He rustles around in the backseat with his right hand before procuring a ratty blanket. He drapes it over the passenger seat with a dirty look in Tim’s sopping wet direction. “The Bat make you walk all the way here?”
“No,” Tim says, finally, blessedly out of the rain. He resists the urge to shake his head like a dog to get the water out. He gets the feeling his driver here wouldn’t appreciate such a gesture. “I did that of my own accord.”
“Hmm.” The man flicks on his blinker and pulls out into the street. Tim takes a moment to assess him. He looks to be around Dick’s age or a little older, probably in his mid twenties. He’s got dark skin, with a sharp jaw and a nose that speaks of being broken and reset one time too many. His hair is buzzed, and several piercings adorn his ears and one of his eyebrows. The guy’s cool. Tim immediately decides to never voice that thought to Jason; he would never live it down.
“Name’s Edge, by the way. Bossman says you’re joining him with the kiddies tonight?”
Tim hasn’t heard anything about “kiddies”, so he just shrugs and says honestly, “All I got was a time and a location.”
Edge huffs a laugh. “Sounds about right.” Then, “We’re real glad you’ve been coming ‘round, you know? Me and the guys. Good for him to see his brothers.”
Tim frowns. “He’s not my brother.”
This time, Edge’s laugh reverberates through the car. “Sure, kid. Look, it’s cool, safer to deny the connection, but don’t worry, I won’t tell nobody.”
“That’s a double negative,” Tim says because that’s easier to focus on than everything else that is this conversation.
“Sound just like him, too,” Edge chuckles again. Tim takes back what he thought about this guy being cool. This guy is a menace.
“I got brothers too, you know?” Edge continues, either unaware of or ignoring Tim’s glitching brain. “Two younger ones. Why I do what I do, so Mama doesn’t have to have to worry about ‘em, so they don’t have to be the ones to get their hands dirty.”
Tim looks down at his own hands, drags a droplet of water across his knee with the tip of his finger. “Not that I think this conversation’s boring or anything, but why are you telling me this?”
“Because Boss treats you same way I treat my little brothers. We hear him naggin’ you on the phone sometimes.” Tim looks up at the smile filling the man’s voice. “Like I said, you’re good for him.”
Why is it that everyone else seems to see something that Tim can’t? First Steph, and now this total stranger. It doesn’t make sense. Jason has brothers. Why would he need another one?
Edge pulls up to a warehouse and they step out into the rain, speed-walking inside despite Tim already being a lost cause.
“Yo, Boss!” Edge hollers as soon as he’s made it through the door. “Got your drowned rat!”
Tim shivers and braces himself for whatever is to come.