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“Fucking brat,” Jason muttered, stomping up the stairs. Dick and Alfred definitely knew he didn't want to do this, but he just had to be sure the message was clear.
He did not know why the Replacement wasn't answering his messages that dinner was ready. He didn't want to know why and he definitely didn't want to follow Dick's suggestion to go up and ask him to eat with them, but then he saw Alfred—the hope in his eyes—and gave up, settling for making as much noise as he could on his way there so the Replacement would have some time to get his story straight before Jason burst in.
As clear as it was that Dick wanted Tim and Jason to bond, that required reconciliation, and Jason didn't want to have some long, drawn out conversation where he admitted everything he did wrong. Putting words to it would only serve to show how horrible a person he had become, and, even if Tim didn’t want to forgive him or hear him out or even be in the same room as him, he’d forgive Jason just to make Dick happy.
Tim had set his boundaries—he always left the room as soon as Jason entered it and never asked for an apology. Dick had chosen to ignore all that, instead, making comments on how well they worked in the fields and how they had the same sense of humor.
And all Jason could think about in those moments was how Tim looked over his shoulder, slightly suspicious whenever Jason came to help, and how he wasn’t sure Tim had ever been comfortable enough around him to make a joke. Those memories sat in his stomach like shards of glass, and whenever Dick looked at him with hope, they would twist, and Jason would leave the room before Dick could see the blood.
He would never admit it, but he wanted a family just as much, if not more than Dick did. He craved that closeness with people. Staying with Bruce, befriending Dick, going after his mother—everything he did was to get a shot at family, but, as close as they had come, he knew this wouldn't work.
Sometimes, you slit a boy's throat and there's no going back. Jason was certain that Tim would act all chummy with him if Dick asked, ignoring his own discomfort to try and hold together the dreams of the people meant to protect him.
If Jason didn't cooperate though, he wouldn't be forced to play nice with the man who broke him as best he could.
Pushing down those thoughts, Jason didn't bother knocking before opening the door, “Yo, Fuckface. Dickhead wants to know why the hell you aren't…”
He paused at the sight in front of him.
Tim’s breathing was slow and even as he lied down on the floor. His legs were crossed and he was leaned all the way back in a manor that had to be uncomfortable, but still, the boy seemed at peace.
Or at the very least, he was comfortable enough to fall asleep while trying to work.
His laptop was still on, in front of him, open to a document, and he was surrounded by papers, some for various school assignments, some for Wayne Enterprises, and some for the different cases he worked.
His phone, showing a number of missed calls and messages from Dick, lay charging a few feet away.
Jason never understood how the boy got so much work done, and this certainly wasn’t an answer.
Still, it was a rare moment when the boy actually slept, so Jason resolved to tell the others that they could bring Tim some leftovers later. Neither of them would fault him for letting the boy sleep.
He almost turned to leave before deciding to close Tim's laptop—a small favor, really, and no one needed to know he did it.
Jason didn't mean to read the name of the assignment, even if he thought it was funny that Tim had an English assignment asking about his favorite hero.
Who would he chose? Nightwing, who told jokes over the comms and invited him to family dinners? Batman, who invited him into his home and gave him everything Jason ever wanted?
He didn't mean to let his eyes flicker over the rest of the page.
He didn't like the way his eyes flashed green when they caught on the word Robin or the nausea that pooled in his gut when he saw it preceded by the words the second.
As he slammed the laptop closed with almost enough force to wake Tim, his eyes caught on the words what a Robin should be.
And Jason wanted to rip that laptop back open. He wanted to shake Tim till he woke up and ask what the hell he meant by that.
Instead, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
He didn't stomp as he went downstairs, down the hallway, or into the kitchen.
“Alright,” came Dick's voice, “Jason, Tim—” a pause. “Where's Tim?”
“Asleep. Figured it was best to let him rest.”
Dick nodded and gave a tired smile, “He really knows to get out of our brotherly bonding time, huh?”
“We can have more.”
Dick quickly shook his head, masking his discomfort. “No, no, I know, it's just—” He took a breath. “How about we have some retired Robin bonding time instead?”
And as much as he wanted to use Tim's absence to excuse his leaving, Dick was never good at being alone, and, if Jason was being honest, he wasn't the best at it either.
“Only if I get to pick the movie.”
Dick's eyes brightened, “Course—anything for my little brother.”
And Jason smiled back as he felt a pang of longing for when they'd fight over things like who got to pick the movie or the good seat on the couch.
Now, they couldn't fight about anything without screaming and crying and doors slamming and Dick putting Jason's death on the list of his failures.
Jason would give anything to argue about who got the last serving of whatever Alfred had cooked up that night, but knew Dick would give him anything he'd asked for.
Jason didn't know when they became strangers. He couldn't solely blame his death or revival for the way things were. Not with the love Dick welcomed him back with. Not with the feeling he got when he learned Dick wasn't at his funeral.
He couldn't point to just one event—just one thing he didn't do right, because he couldn't stay up at night asking himself what would happen if he did that differently. Instead, he combed through each and every interaction with Dick, correcting his behavior in his head as he tried to figure out how he was going to fix things. If he should fix things. God knew he wanted to.
Besides, Jason didn't like not knowing who to blame. He didn't have a good track record for blaming the right person and didn't want to have almost killed both the other Robins.
“We're watching Jane Eyre. The 2011 one.”
Dick rolled his eyes, “That one always makes me cry.”
He quirked a smile, “Then bring tissues.”
Jason did something stupid.
When the movie was over and Dick had fallen asleep on the couch, Jason went back upstairs. He didn't stomp this time. He did his best not to make any noise at all as he opened the door to Tim's room.
He couldn't help the surprise when he found Tim, awake, and doing more work.
“Just a sec, Dick, and I'll be down for dinner,” he said without looking up.
“We already ate,” Jason replied, ignoring the way Tim's head whipped over to him.
Then quietly, “I missed it? Shit.”
Jason furrowed his brows. “Okay, I thought this was just a family dinner thing while Bruce was away doing Justice League shit. Did I miss something?”
“Not really,” Tim shrugged, “I just never really had family dinners growing up, so Dick's been trying to get me used to them or whatever. I know he likes the company though, and you're rarely at the manor, so he was getting really excited about having the both of us here for once,” he ran a hand down his face, “I can’t believe I missed it.”
Jason raised an eyebrow, ignoring his guilt. “You were asleep.”
“I know. I meant to set an alarm so it would just be a quick nap, but I ended up putting it in my calculator app instead.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “How do you even mix those up?”
A shrug, “On ninety-four minutes of sleep, anything is possible.”
Jason nodded. He wanted to tell Tim that he needed more sleep, but he wasn’t in a place where he could tell Tim to do anything.
He resolved to tell Dick.
When Jason turned back to Tim, he saw that the boy was organizing his papers into piles on the floor.
Tim closed his laptop and stood.
Remembering the essay, Jason couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on the laptop.
Tim’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you doing here? I wasn’t exactly under the impression that you wanted to spend too much time with me.”
What a Robin should be.
Jason had half a dozen lies on the tip of his tongue, but if he owed Tim anything, it was the truth. “Dick sent me up to get you when dinner was ready. I saw you were asleep, I went back down and told him.”
A nod. “And you closed my laptop.”
“I didn’t want it to die.”
“And you saw what I wrote.”
And Jason really couldn’t blame Bruce for replacing him. Not when the newer model was that good. “Not on purpose. And not all of it.”
Tim nodded slowly, looking to the side, before sighing and saying, “I can change it if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“It—you don’t have to lie for me.”
“I—” he let out an airy laugh, “I don’t know what you read, but I don’t think it would take much to know that I’d do anything for you.”
Jason made a habit of following his gut before his brain, so he was very familiar with the feeling that he was operating without all the information. Whenever he had a case he couldn’t solve, he went to someone else for help.
It was habit that let the words, “I never asked why you became Robin,” slip from his lips.
Tim drew a sharp breath. “Are you sure you’d like to know? It’s not really a happy story.”
“It’s Robin,” Jason gave a small smile, “He’s not known for his happy ending.”
Tim nodded. “Well, I think it’s important that I start by saying that I never really wanted to be Robin.”
Jason balked, “Then what was this? A happy coincidence?”
“Not happy,” Tim shook his head. “Not exactly. I actually went to Dick first—tracked him down, told him what things were like back in Gotham. I asked him to become Robin again and he said no. I thought then—and I know now—that they had a falling out, though I still couldn’t tell you exactly what happened. I gave Dick a week to change things—told him that if he didn’t talk to Bruce, I’d get involved. He didn’t, so I did.”
“And so you put on the suit.”
“I did. I never meant for it to become a permanent thing. It’s—in my head, it was almost like an equation. And I’m still tired, so please tell me if this doesn’t make sense, but my thought process was that Gotham needs Batman and Batman doesn’t kill. Robin…died and Batman—” He looked at Jason. Looked away. “Batman got really close to killing. Batman without Robin nearly destroyed Gotham—destroyed himself—so Batman needs Robin. That’s what I tried to tell Dick—what I tried to tell Bruce and Alfred, but they wouldn’t listen, so,” he gave an awkward shrug, “I showed them. Bruce always chose his Robins, so I assumed, once my point was made, he’d find one, but he just kept pushing Robin away until something changed and he finally realized he needed a Robin.” Tim fidgeted as he spoke, “I don’t know why he kept me.”
Jason swallowed the lump in his throat. He really should have talked to Tim before…everything. He was so open to conversation. All Jason had to do was ask why and maybe things could have been different. Maybe they would have been okay. If he knew that Tim never wanted to become Robin—never wanted to become him, then he would have known to look for an enemy somewhere else.
Instead, all he saw was Tim, right in front of him. Looking a bit sad and a bit tired, but more than that, there was a soft sort of admiration in his eyes.
What a Robin should be.
“Why was I your favorite?”
Tim cracked a smile, “Have you seen yourself?”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m asking.”
“It’s because you’re Gotham—born and raised. It’s—there’s something about this city. You can tell when someone was raised here. Dick—I loved seeing him as Robin. There’s always something so bright about him, and it warmed my heart, but Gotham’s not a bright place. It’s cloudy as shit and there are always puddles of dubious substance and I swear to god, something about the way the buildings are made lets the wind funnel through them, faster and colder then it could ever hope to be on it’s own.”
“And that’s me?”
“That’s how you grew up. Gotham’s in your bones. Dick’s Robin was a dream. Yours was tangible hope.”
“What’s yours?”
Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve—I keep trying to figure it out, but I don’t—I don’t know. Robin still doesn’t feel like it’s mine, if that makes sense. Everyone expects me to be you, but that’s never going to happen. I could never replace you, even if I wanted to—which I don’t.”
On instinct, Jason opened his mouth to make a joke about Tim not wanting to lower himself to be Jason, but something in the way Tim looked at him—still with that hope in his eyes, not imagining what Jason could be, but remembering instead who he had already been—something about that look told him that Tim didn’t think that he was good enough to be Robin.
And that, in Jason’s expert opinion, was bullshit. Robin was meant to do good, not be good. Batman chose Dick because the boy had a vendetta and Batman chose Jason because he wanted to make sure he didn’t stray down the wrong path and, against all odds, Batman didn’t choose Tim. Tim chose Batman at the cost of himself and Jason wasn’t the right person to say these things, so instead, he said, “You know, Bruce doesn’t get back until tomorrow night, and Dick is sleeping on the couch.” He knew that was an awkward way to put things, but it didn’t cause any overt harm, and that was good enough for him.
“Yeah. Well—I knew about Bruce, but I just assumed Dick was there.” He gave a small laugh. “Dick falls asleep in places where we usually hang out when he wants to be around people.” He gestured to the laptop he was still holding. “I’m not tired enough to fall asleep again, so I figured I’d go down and get some work done so he’ll have someone there when he wakes up.”
“Geez, you’re nice, huh?”
“What?”
“I was going to suggest that we dump cold water on him to wake him up and then hang out with him.”
Smiling, Tim hummed, “I like my plan better.”
And Jason couldn’t stop himself from giving a quick laugh. Maybe Dick was right and they did have a similar sense of humor.
“Yeah, I do to,” Jason said, before they made their way downstairs.
Tim draped Dick in a blanket before the two of them settled down on either side of him, Jason to sleep and Tim to work.
As Jason’s eyes fluttered shut, he got the feeling that something was about to change, but he could hear Dick’s breathing and Tim’s typing, and, just like a family dinner, it wasn’t much.
But it was something he wanted more of.