The Morning After the Night Before
Verse: Red's Robin
Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Batman and all concepts, characters etc property of Time Warner and DC Comics
Warnings: more bad language, implications of really shitty parenting
Author's Notes: 3rd in the verse
Summary: He'd kidnapped a crazy boy. Shit.
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Tim perched on the arm of the safe house’s shitty sofa, sipping daintily at his third cup of coffee. Apparently the kid ran on the stuff. Jason’s on his second, curtsey of the coffee maker the kid somehow managed to acquire, drag back here, and set up while he was sleeping.
Jason’s trying not to think about it. The logistics of it alone make his brain hurt, and trying to picture how the kid got it up the balcony is an exercise in frustration.
“Just, seriously kid. The freaking balcony? We’re on the twelfth floor.”
Tim blinked, tilted his head to side slightly. “What’s wrong with climbing down the balcony? You did it all the time.”
“I’m a trained vigilante. You’re a thirteen year civi who weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet,” Jason felt compelled to point out. Talking to the kid was like watching a train wreck. Every moment was horrifying, yet you couldn’t look away.
“A hundred and thirteen, actually.” Tim’s got a hell of a poker face. The muffled giggle at Jason’s irritated grumble gives him away, though.
“You are fucking with me, aren’t you?” Jason accused.
“A little.” Tim set his mug down and stretched. He had a hell of a lot of flexibility for a civilian. Which could be useful. Jason caught where his thoughts were going and strangled them. No recruiting the crazy kid. Talia wouldn’t be happy with him, and anyway, it was a terrible idea.
“Why aren’t you dead, Jason?” Tim hugged one leg to his chest. It made him look even younger than he was. Fuck. Jason had kidnapped a thirteen year old. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the hell was he supposed to do with this kid?
“Long story.” Jason eyed the kid. “The fact that you made me while I was in uniform’s a little more worrying.”
Tim honest-to-god blushed. “I’m, ah, a fan of your work. I watched sometimes…?” His voice trailed into a question.
“You were stalking Batman last night,” Jason said flatly, doing his best to smother the panic he felt at the realization. Civilian should not be able to stalk Batman. They just shouldn’t.
“And you’ve been stalking us for how long again, kid?” Jason asked. Tim winced.
“Ah. Three years. Um. And Dick for a year. Before that.” Tim said quietly, hunching in on himself.
“Hell, ki- Tim. I’m not mad at you, okay?” Jason didn’t allow himself to think about before he pulled the kid back against his chest, hugging him. The kid was so small. So small and so scared, and who was letting Tim run around unsupervised at night, in Gotham? What the hell was wrong with them?
Tim stiffened at the contact, anxiety in every line of his body. “Are you… hugging me?” And the sheer fucking confusion in his voice, like he wasn’t even sure what a hug was, made Jason want to hit somebody.
“Yeah, sweetheart, I am. You’re going to have to live with it.” Jason had terrible suspicions, about the sort of life that created a crazy, fucked up kid like Tim, and he didn’t like them at all.
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” Tim said. But he gradually relaxed into Jason’s hold, hesitantly laying his head back on Jason’s shoulder. The thrill of warmth Jason felt at that gesture should probably be worrying him. Instead, Jason shifted them so he was lying back against the couch arm, Tim cradled against him.
There was no fucking way he was letting Tim go back to wherever-the-hell he came from. None. Jason had another two weeks in Gotham before Talia came to pick him up. Plenty of time to find somebody that would be better at taking care of Tim than whatever miserable failure had the job right now.