Chapter Text
“So, what’s with the bag?” Dick glances at Jason as he asks the question, but his gaze is soon drawn back to the adorable sight of tiny Tim. The little guy is clambering up on a kitchen stool almost as tall as he is, a look of fierce concentration on his miniature face.
Aw, how is he so cute? I need to take all the pictures while he’s like this. Dick follows up on the thought by lifting his phone and snapping a quick photo.
“Ho ho ho,” Jason says, then huffs as he sets down the large burlap bag he’s been carrying. It lands on the floor with a dull squish and a mysterious sloshing sound. “One thing I can tell ya, it ain’t fu- I mean, frikkin’ Christmas presents.”
Timmy finally manages to make it up on the stool, and immediately spots a mug of what looks like hot chocolate, steaming on the counter. Dick smiles at the sight, realizing Alfred must have prepared it for the little boy. Alfred’s incredible. He somehow produced a tiny outfit in exactly Timmy’s size for him to change into the moment Jason brought him in. The man really does seem to be omniscient sometimes.
Perching on the stool, the little boy carefully lifts the mug with both hands before cautiously tasting it. The look of absolute shock and wonder on his face makes Dick want to wrap him up in a blanket and protect him forever. It also has him wishing the Drakes were still alive to answer for their neglect. He’s pieced together a lot over the years about his middle brother’s childhood, and the picture isn’t pretty. How can a six year old boy not know what hot chocolate tastes like?
Jason is observing as well, a dark glower on his face. “Even I got to drink hot chocolate growin’ up, and my life was a goddamn mess,” he mutters under his breath. He’s obviously thinking along the same lines as Dick.
Well, at least we have Timmy now. Hey, maybe we can make sure he experiences some of the things he missed during his real childhood! And then hopefully he’ll have those new memories to carry with him, once we get him changed back to his normal age.
Dick’s pretty sure he’s wearing a besotted smile as he watches the admittedly very cute little kid sipping at his hot chocolate. After a minute, he looks back at Jason. His gaze catches on the large bag again and he frowns slightly. His brother still hasn’t really answered his question. Jason doesn’t have the best history when it comes to mysterious bags with questionable contents—well, questionable is probably the kindest word to describe that one time with all those severed heads. Ew. Still, he’s come a really long way since then, healing emotionally and beginning to move past some of the trauma and anger related to his death and resurrection.
I really hope that isn’t a bag of heads. Or any kind of human body parts, actually. Why can’t it just be gifts? I like gifts.
Clearing his throat, he tries the question again. “I don’t think I’ve seen you let go of that thing once since you guys got here, and I’m guessing it’s probably not your laundry.” He raises an interrogative eyebrow. “Seriously, what’s in the bag, Jason?”
Jason groans in what sounds like annoyance, hefting the bag a little before letting it fall back to the floor with a sullen squish. “Yeah, I haven’t let go of it yet ‘cause I can’t.” At Dick’s concerned look, Jason rolls his eyes. “When that fu—” He cuts himself off, his eyes flicking guiltily over to Timmy, who’s watching them both with bright interest in his big, profoundly innocent blue eyes. Jason quickly changes his word choice. “Fudging bi—I mean, witch hit Tim with that spell just before I knocked her out, there was a bunch of smoke. By the time it cleared, there was Timmy, looking like he does now, surrounded by all this… well…”
He hesitates, making a face. “Anyway, I called Zatanna and she showed up to take the witch away. She checked out the spell, and explained magic doesn’t really circumvent conservation of mass, it just usually looks like it does when performed by an experienced practitioner. Like, most of the time if magic shrinks something, the extra mass is converted to energy or whatever. I guess this magician sucked at that, so all the extra mass when Timmy got transformed… well. It was just sorta… still there.”
Wait, what? Like… bits and pieces of him?
Against his will, Dick’s eyes track very slowly back down to the large bag, resting innocuously on the floor at Jason’s feet. “Uh.” He stares at it, hesitating. He doesn’t actually want the answer to the question he’s about to ask. It forces its way out of his mouth anyway, maybe because his detective training just refuses to let a mystery go unsolved. More likely, it’s just ghoulish curiosity. “So that’s…?”
Jason grins, apparently enjoying his discomfort. “Fu—uh, fudge yeah! It’s the rest of him. Zatanna says I gotta keep it close, ‘cause he’ll need it when the spell runs out and he changes back.”
Ew. Oh dear god, why did I have to ask? I could have gone the rest of my life happy, not having heard that.
Dick swallows, feeling slightly queasy. He edges a couple of careful, tiny steps farther away from Jason and the bag of profound horror. “Oh. That’s… disgusting, Jay, what the heck?”
“Eh, what can ya do? Magic!” Jason waggles his eyebrows and then laughs at whatever Dick’s face looks like right now. He clearly finds the entire situation hilarious, because he’s a massive jerk. His sense of humor has always been a little twisted.
Dick pouts, then searches the counter. Something’s missing. It takes him a moment to realize exactly what. “Hey wait, where’s my coffee?” He’s sure he had a mug a few minutes ago, before all the excitement of Jason bringing Timmy home.
Jason shrugs. “Dunno, all’s I saw when we came in was the hot chocolate Alfie set out for Timmers.” He blinks at Dick, who blinks back at him as realization gradually dawns on both of them.
Dismayed, Dick winces. “Alfred didn’t make any hot chocolate for Timmy, did he?” He sighs.
Oops.
Jason snorts, shaking his head. “Welp, guess that explains why the kid liked it so damn much. And why he was surprised at the taste. Even Tim probably didn’t drink coffee regularly yet as a six year old. Little coffee monster.” He sounds both resigned and reluctantly amused.
As one, they both turn back to check on Timmy—who, Dick realizes with slowly growing dismay, is gone.
Double oops. Well, he’s only six. How far could he possibly have gone?