Chapter Text
In the cool darkness of the Batcave, Tim sits beside Jason’s bed and watches as the Martian Manhunter probes the dream of the one he loves. It’s been almost two full days since he’s heard that voice and the sarcastic yet witty comments that practically define Jason. He misses him so much even though he’s laying right here in front of him.
Dick is seated beside him, having claimed oldest bird privilege when he displaced Damian, who hovers around the end of the bed while Bruce and Alfred wait across from him and Dick. It’s been almost an hour since J’onn entered Jason’s mind, his expression remaining as cool and unflappable as always.
The straps have been put back in place, the reprieve from earlier over and done with as Jason resumed the activity occurring in his head. If Tim had to guess, there’s a lot of running and walking involved as his legs have been in almost constant motion, twitching and jerking about. Something else apparently happened too, much to his surprise earlier in the afternoon when he woke up and spelled Alfred from his vigil.
Tim is quietly glad no one else was around for that as it raised more questions than it provided answers. He still wonders who Jason is dreaming about, who it is that made him cry out and find his release like he did. It would be nice if it’s him; in fact, he really hopes it is, but he refuses to begrudge Jason his happiness, even if it is only a dream.
They have so few of those moments as it is with the life they lead.
J’onn finally looks up from his intense study, though his hands remain on either side of Jason’s head. Everyone tenses, waiting on his words. “The Red Hood is lost inside his own mind. He has created an entire world of his own, full of people that hold particular meaning to him, good and bad.”
“Can you get him out?” Bruce asks roughly. His face is lined with worry.
“I can, but it will be difficult unless I have his cooperation. He believes that he has to complete a quest to find a particular sword and return it to its rightful owner before he’ll be shown the way home.”
“Does he know that he’s dreaming then?” Tim interjects before Bruce can.
“Yes. From what I’ve gleaned of his thoughts and memories within the dream, he was growing fearful that it wasn’t, that he was somehow trapped in a different reality. But recent events have made the Red Hood reevaluate that belief.” J’onn’s voice takes on a warning note. “However, while he is on the verge of completing his quest, there no guarantee that he will wake up on his own. He might very well stay locked in that world until the end of his days.”
Dick surges to his feet. “We’ve got to get him out of there now. It can be done before the quest is complete, right?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, there’s another person in this same state,” Damian adds, always the one to play devil’s advocate. “The man Todd was fighting when he got gassed, he’s also like this.”
“We'll take care of him next,” Bruce states firmly. “At least we know whatever this particular toxin is, it runs its course on its own. Jason’s bloodwork and the spinal tap from earlier are completely clean.”
“Then why hasn’t Todd woken up on his own?” Damian counters. “If the toxin is gone, then he should have by now.”
Dick shakes his head. “The mind is a tricky thing, D. As I’m sure J’onn can attest to.”
“It most certainly is.” The Martian nods in agreement, his long fingers still laced against Jason’s skull. “In his dream, the Red Hood is about to do battle with his greatest nightmare. His sole ally has left him in favor of his own beloved one. It is possible that I can bring him out before the battle commences, but the Red Hood has discovered he has some semblance of control over the dream itself. I suspect that if I were to try and remove him on my own, he would resist me, so great is his desire to purge this evil from his mind.”
He pauses, and glances around at each of them.
Tim can see what he’s about to say from a mile away. “If anyone is going to retrieve Jason from the inside of his own head, it’ll be me,” he says before anyone else can speak up.
Bruce opens his mouth to protest, but Dick rests a hand on Tim's shoulder. “I’m with Tim on this one.”
J'onn is already nodding, even as Bruce looks like he’s swallowed a sour grape. “The close relationship between the Red Hood and Red Robin should be more than enough to convince him.”
“I will not risk losing both of them,” Bruce snaps, eyes hot as he struggles to contain himself. Risking their necks out on the streets each night is one thing. Out there, the enemy is tangible and can be fought with their fists or their wits. But this?
It’s all in Jason’s head.
And considering some of the things that he still has nightmares about, going in there may be even more dangerous than what they face out here in the real world. Jason often jokes that the universe likes to use him as a punching bag and there are times Tim believes he’s not entirely off the mark.
“Bruce, you can’t make that decision for me,” Tim replies levelly. “Everything we do, each night we go out there, we don’t know if we’ll come back. But we do it anyway because we believe in our training and each other. We believe in you, so please, have a little faith in us. In me.”
The cave is eerily quiet as Bruce struggles, torn between his own desire to be the one to save his son, the one he’d failed to save before, and to let his other son be the hero he’s more than proven himself to be.
“Fine,” he finally says gruffly and looks away.
Alfred pats him on the shoulder. “Good lad,” he murmurs.
Tim lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding.
“Okay, so now that that’s been decided,” Dick speaks up to break the tension. “How is this supposed to work, J’onn?”
The Martian gestures toward the bed. “It will be easiest if you lay beside the Red Hood, Red Robin. I will lull you to the cusp of sleep and when you are about to enter your own dream, I will direct you into the Red Hood’s instead.”
That sounds simple enough and Tim hops up to settle in as best he can next to Jason. The straps are in the way, but with how he’s twitching and occasionally thrashing, they’ll have to stay in place.
“What exactly is Todd dreaming about, Martian?” Damian asks from the end of the bed. “You mentioned a sword quest earlier.” He actually sounds curious, probably because a sharp, pointy object is involved.
J’onn places a hand over Tim’s eyes, blocking the overhead light. Instinctively, Tim closes them. Time to get this show on the road.
“He is about to face off against a foe known as the Jabberwocky with a blade called the vorpal sword. For most of his quest, he was with person called the Cheshire Cat, but he has just left the Red Hood to retreat from the battle with a mind-controlled man who was formerly the White Knight.”
Dick snorts and even Damian scoffs. “The fool is dreaming he’s in Wonderland?”
“I don’t see anything wonderful about it,” J’onn states in his somber tone, fingers gently settling over Tim’s temples. Lethargy flows through him and Tim feels more relaxed than he has in years. It’s a shame he can’t fall asleep like this every night. “The Red Queen is Harley Quinn and the Joker is the Jabberwocky.”
Oh, shit. This isn’t going to be easy. Far from it.
~*~*~
Jason has the distinct impression he’s walking into a gunfight with the wrong weapon. Not that the vorpal sword is a bad weapon, far from it. What sucks is that he’d rather not have to get anywhere close to the Joker if he can avoid it. One shot right between the eyes is too merciful for that shit stain Bruce will never let him eradicate, but he’s vowed to himself that if the opportunity ever comes, he’ll do it and to hell with the consequences. He messed up once before and he won’t do it again.
Tim knows this too. When they were still feeling their way around in the beginning of their relationship, Jason made this fact crystal clear because he wouldn’t go further if Tim couldn’t accept it.
The little shit did, actually. But what blew Jason’s mind was his own story about how through a series of carefully orchestrated events, Tim almost killed Captain Boomerang, the man who murdered his father. The piece of garbage that the universe gave another chance to, that at times he wishes he still had the conviction to finish the job.
Yeah, Jason can relate.
The Joker’s rictus grin grows the closer he gets to the house, a constant between the two forms he’s shifting between. “You never answered my question, bird boy,” he calls out, holding up a crowbar that’s dripping blood. “Forehand or backhand?”
Fuck the mind-games already. He doesn’t want to deal with them, not now, not ever again. “Who says you’re any good at either of them?”
That earns him a pouty frown and a flicker into the beast his mind apparently has conjured for the Jabberwocky. He rises up, towering higher than the house like a demon from the depths of hell. “You will die here, Jason Todd,” the Jokerwocky howls. “Unloved. Unwelcome. Completely and utterly alone.”
“Dramatic much?” a wry voice comments from behind Jason. “Seriously, I know you’re a drama queen, Jay, but this is ridiculous.”
What the fuck?
Jason looks over his shoulder, then turns fully because his mind has to be playing tricks on him. There is no way Tim is standing there. His Tim, with his stupid black cowl that looks like a condom and even stupider oh shit handles strapped across his chest.
It can’t be him. Especially since his Tim doesn’t walk around with a large green lizard on his shoulder that has rather familiar beady red eyes.
Tim pushes back his cowl, revealing bright blue eyes that Jason could lose himself in for days. “Come on, Jay. It’s time to wake up.”
“You’re not here. You can’t be here.” Christ, but does he want it to be real. Tim-Cat is all well and good, but there’s no one he’d rather have to watch his back than his Tim. The real Tim.
“I’m here thanks to J’onn.” Tim gestures at the lizard. “I think you’ve met the Martian Manhunter before, right? We called him in when you wouldn’t wake up. We’re all physically in the cave, Jay. You and me, sleeping. Dick, Bruce, Alfred, even Damian, they’re all waiting for us.”
Jason scoffs. “Like that brat would ever want me to open my eyes again.”
“You’d be surprised. He expressed actual concern for your well-being before J’onn put me to sleep.”
That’s something he’d pay good money to see.
Behind him, the Jokerwocky screams in anger. “You are mine! Mine to destroy, mine to enslave! Mine!”
It’s the fact that the Joker is pitching a bitch fit over Tim’s words that convinces Jason he’s real.
“Tim?”
He takes a step closer and holds out his hand. “I’m here, Jay. You don’t have to fight the Joker. Just take my hand and we can wake up. All of this is just a dream.”
Jason sighs, shaking his head while sheathing the vorpal sword. “That’s just it, Tim. I want to fight him. I want to kill him. Who knows if I’ll ever have the chance in the real world? We’re all here in my head, so what does it really matter?”
Tim frowns. “Is this the only reason why you don’t want to wake up?”
The Jokerwocky howls and flaps his massive wings, sending gusts of wind out across the overgrown lawn strong enough to make Jason and Tim stagger. “Yes, fight amongst yourselves! You will never leave! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
“Shut the fuck up while the adults are talkin’, you piece of shit!” Jason snatches one of his guns and fires it at the Joker, wishing the bullets were real instead of rubber. While he’s at it, might as well wish for a rocket launcher.
The Joker screams in pain but oddly enough, doesn’t attack. It occurs to Jason that the beast appears to be metaphorically chained to the house and can’t move past it, so they can mostly ignore him. Which is fine with him because he’s got some business to hash out with Tim. Perhaps he’s not quite as on board with his real-life plans after all.
“Tim, I know this is a dream. I want to wake up. But before I do, I just wanna do this one thing. Just let me kill him and we can get out of here.”
A dream that has been so damned real that it’s almost painful to want to leave. But it’s not like Tim-Cat is real and besides, he’s got his Knight back. Even if this wasn’t a dream, chances were likely he wouldn’t want to shack up with them both. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to live with two Tims. They’d probably end up burying him alive somewhere and running off together.
It doesn’t look like Tim is convinced. “How does killing the Joker in a dream do any good when he’s still alive out there? That’s where it matters, not in here. I know you want that, if the opportunity presents itself and I’ve said I won’t stop you.”
He also said he wouldn’t help him either.
“What if that doesn’t happen though?” Jason persists. “Maybe this will be almost as cathartic as the real deal. Maybe, just maybe, killing him in here will finally mean I can sleep through the night in peace.”
Not every night because their lives are shit for that to even be a remote possibility, but perhaps he’ll be able to wake up next to Tim and not be covered in sweat from the terrors that stalk his nightmares.
Tim glances at the Jokerwocky still raging behind him and back to Jason. The pensive look on his face tells him that he’s about to give in, but with misgivings. “J’onn seems to be on your side,” he comments idly. “Not that he’s giving a reason why.”
Jason has almost completely forgotten the third member of their little party. Big mistake there as the Martian Manhunter is one of the most powerful members of the Justice League, a fact easily overlooked considering how reserved he is compared to other members. Back in his Robin days, he’d never heard Bruce speak of him with anything other than respect. He could probably yank them all out of here in a heartbeat.
So why hasn’t he? He remembers seeing the lizard earlier before he and Tim-Cat stormed the hedge. J’onn could have woken him up right then and there instead of letting him get up in the Bandersnatch’s business and wander into that psychedelic nightmare of a house. It’s almost as if he wants him to complete his quest...
Gleaming red eyes stare back at him and Jason swears he winks.
Well, well, well.
Tim frowns harder. “You are so damned stubborn.”
“You say that like it’s a surprise.”
“Let’s get this over with.” Tim jerks his head toward the house. “Now make up your mind. Hell beast or human?”
A victory is a victory and right now, he’ll take what he can get. Jason grins as he turns his attention back to the Jokerwocky. The flickering is worse now, switching from one terrifying visage to the other and back again. All he has to do is decide.
The demonic beast is frightening beyond belief, black as sin and the darkness that haunts his deepest nightmares. Stifling pitch darkness that surrounds and suffocates him, that has him clawing for air and freedom and light. But for all of that, it’s not what tortures him most.
Night is followed by day, after all. Tim, hell, even the rest of his family, have taught him that. The lesson just took a few years to sink in. Jason can just hear Damian muttering about him being a slow learner.
Just like that, the beast disappears, leaving a man clutching the railing across the front of the house with a grin so wide that it would put the original Cheshire Cat to shame.
“Ready to come and play, birdbrain?”
Jason is more than ready and resumes his steady march back toward Arkham, this time with Tim keeping pace at his side.
“What’s the plan?” Tim asks, voice pitched low.
“Keep an eye out for Harley. She’s around here somewhere.” Better that Harley becomes Tim’s problem, it’ll give him one less thing to worry about. The vague concern about having to take on both the Joker and his annoying as fuck, but no less deadly psychotic girlfriend dissipates. Why can’t the Harley in his dream be the same as the one out in the real world? That one would be marching right along with them with her giant fucking mallet to beat the shit out of her former puddin’.
“Fine, but what’s your plan for taking him on?”
“It’ll come to me.”
“In the next ten seconds or so?”
“Sure.”
Truth be told, Jason has no set plan for killing the Joker. He knows how he’d prefer to do it, but a sword isn’t exactly the right weapon for shooting someone. It means he has to get right up close and personal, parry that damn crowbar a few times before the blade breaks it and he can make with the stabbing.
Too many things can go wrong with that scenario. It’s the Joker and his nightmare, so why would things go right?
As they approach the steps to the wide portico, the Joker comes to meet them, his stride long and nonchalant, like this was nothing but a walk in the park for him. In one hand is the crowbar that still drips blood from some unseen source. He stops at the top of the steps to face them, tapping the tip of the bleeding metal against his other hand with wet smacks that send splatters of red flying.
Jason’s memory helpfully provides another time he and the Joker faced off over a crowbar and his ribs twinge in agony.
Gee, no, his imagination isn’t fucking with him, really. Nope, this is all nice and normal, right here.
“Alright you fuckin’ clown. Let’s get this over with so I can wake up.”
The Joker’s grin grows wider, his teeth stained yellow under the pale light of the moon. “You will never wake up, Jason. It’s just you and me and the crowbar for as long as your heart beats. Those others are lying to you, just as they always have. No one wants you except for me, little robin.”
He breaks off into another maniacal laugh.
Jason shakes his head and lets the words fall away. Once upon a time, he’d have believed them, he really would have. But while he has many doubts about his place in Gotham, in his family, there is one relationship he doesn’t, and that person stands by his side. “Jesus Christ, you are such a fuckin’ liar.”
His hand falls to his waist to grasp the hilt of the vorpal sword.
But rather than unsheathing a sword, he raises a gun, the gleaming silvery metal a match for either of the .45s strapped to his thighs.
“What the hell?” Tim gapes at the weapon the vorpal sword has morphed into.
Jason doesn’t question it. His dream, his weapon. Finally, something is going his way. He flips the safety and takes aim. “Tweet, tweet, motherfucker.”
Okay, so it’s not the most original line in the world, but damn is it satisfying.
The gunshot rips through the night with a snicker-snack, and the Joker appears surprised at the unexpected assault, eyes crossing as he tries to take in the hole that now adorns his forehead. But Jason is confident that the vorpal sword picked up on his preferred ammo, so while the damage to the Joker’s face is rather minimal, there’s nothing left to the back of his head after the bullet ripped apart his brain and shattered against the skull.
The Joker falls to the ground, a puppet who’s lost his strings. The crowbar lands beside him, a soft thunk as it falls from that long-fingered grip.
One, two! One, two! And through and through, the vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head, he went galumphing back.
Tempting as it was to decapitate the Joker, there really wasn’t much left of his skull to make it worth his while. Besides, Jason doubts the White Queen really wants to mount the Jokerwocky’s head on her wall.
Tim-Cat is an entirely different story.
A loud wail echoes from the Asylum as Harley makes herself known. “Puddin’! My puddin’!” Her cries fade away as the house shudders again, foundations cracking and quaking as the earth heaves.
Jason grabs Tim’s shoulder and yanks. “Run!”
For the second time that night, he races toward the hedge and the safety of the garden beyond. Behind him, wood splinters and stone groans as Arkham Asylum is swallowed into the ground, sinking into the caves beneath the surface.
Tim is hot on his heels, cape whipping behind him as he keeps pace.
There’s no Bandersnatch blocking the way, so Jason stops to catch his breath as soon as they reach the trees.
“What…happened?” Tim gasps, sucking in air like it’s going out of style. They’re both in great shape, but a sprint of that magnitude is bound to make them both need to relearn how to breathe.
Rather like how they did the first time they’d had sex.
Jason holds up the vorpal gun that’s still clasped tightly in his hand. “I shot him.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Tim pushes away from the tree he’s leaning against. “Since when has the vorpal sword been able to turn into a gun?”
“The vorpal blade takes whatever form it’s bearer needs it to.” The voice speaks from up in the branches of the tree. “My Knight is a swordsman. You are a gunman. Didn’t you know that?”
Tim-Cat drops gracefully to the ground.
Jason wants to choke at the sight of two Tims standing before him. “No, I didn’t,” he replies somewhat testily as his Tim stares in amazement at his doppelgänger. “Don’t cha think that would have been a helpful bit of information to share?”
The Cheshire Cat is staring just as curiously at his human counterpart. “I was distracted,” he replies, clearly not paying Jason much attention.
“Why are you here?” Jason asks, holstering the gun. “I thought you’d be further along with your Knight.”
“He and the Bandersnatch are under Absalom’s care. She’s one of the most trusted agents of the White Queen.” Tim-Cat finally tears his gaze away from Tim’s. “I came back because I thought you’d need help.” He smirks, fangs flashing in the moonlight. “But I see I was already with you.”
Tim slowly shakes his head. “Jay, is this how you see me? Really?”
The grin sharpens. “How do you think I feel? My Knight and your Jason are identical in all ways. Right down to that little thing they do with their –”
“Okay, that’s enough!” Jason steps forward before Tim-Cat can finish that sentence. “No one is comparing notes here, got it?”
The look Tim gives him says they’re having a long talk later. Great. Just great.
Jason unclips the vorpal gun from his belt to hand it over to Tim-Cat. “Here. According to that green lizard, I don’t have to actually return this to the White Queen in order to wake up. But I do want to give it to you.”
Tim-Cat accepts it, claws wrapping around the grip. As Jason lets go, the vorpal gun morphs again, this time into a long, slender staff that is all too familiar. “Thank you for returning this to us, Jason. My queen appreciates your efforts.”
The words are stiffly formal, but Jason is fluent in Tim-speak and knows that look behind those eyes, even slitted as they are. “And you? Do you still think I’m an asshole?”
Those luminescent orbs blink wetly before Tim-Cat slinks forward and wraps his arms around Jason’s neck. “Of course, you are. We wouldn’t love you like we do if you weren’t.”
Warm lips press against his, hot and hungry. Then, in the blink of an eye, the Cheshire Cat and the vorpal staff disappear.
Tim arches an eyebrow. “Something you want to tell me?”
Jason runs a hand through his hair, already feeling like more than a little bit of a tool for what he did with Tim-Cat, even if this is all simply an incredibly vivid and realistic dream. “Yeah, but after we wake up. How’s that supposed to work anyway?”
The lizard’s ruby eyes blaze in sudden fire. “All you have to do is want to. I will take care of the rest.”
After the last couple of days Jason has had, a telepathic lizard is the least of his concerns. He reaches for Tim’s hand and clasps it firmly. “Oh, I definitely believe it’s time for me to wake the fuck up. Do I need to click my heels three times? Say there’s no place like home?”
Tim shoves a bony elbow into his side. “Wrong story, Jay.”
“Do you have any idea how many genres I’ve been crossing since I woke up in here?”
“Tell me when we’re awake.”
Jason winks at him as darkness begins to fall around the edge of his vision. “As you wish.”
~*~*~
It doesn’t take long after Jason emerges from his slumber to wish he were unconscious again. “For the last fucking time, Dickie, I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”
Dick heaves a massive sigh and glares. “If you don’t tell me, then Bruce will get all up in your face about what happened for his report. Do you really want that?”
Jason scowls because of course he doesn’t want that. At the same time, he doesn’t want to tell Dickface either, so he settles on the happy medium. “Some of the things that happened in there are a little too personal and I need some time to process before I even contemplate telling another person.”
The frustration on Dick’s face eases at the surprisingly honest answer. “You’re lucky Bruce went with J’onn to Gotham General.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Jason sits up in the bed he and Tim share when they have to stay at the Manor for some reason or other. It’s rare they ever do together, but Alfred has put his foot down, so there’s no escaping tonight. Today. Whatever the hell the time is. His internal clock is all kinds of jacked up. “Look, there’s a lot of shit in my head that I try not to think about on the regular, but this dream hallucination brought most of it back to the surface. The last thing I need is Bruce breathing down my neck.”
Dick nods, rising from the chair he’d moved to the side of the bed upon entering the room earlier. “I can respect that. And I’ll make sure he does too. Just… try not to run away too soon? You scared the crap out of everyone, so at the very least, you can cut Alfred some slack and let him fuss over you.”
“I think I can deal with that for a day.” He’s already eaten a plateful of fresh cookies, his favorite ones too.
“Good. I’ll handle Bruce then. Get some rest, Little Wing. You haven’t been sleeping well.” Dick winks and escapes from the room before the pillow Jason throws at him manages to hit the back of his head.
“And people say I’m the asshole.” Jason sighs and wonders if he can convince Tim to pick up the pillow when he gets out of the shower. He’d do it, but he’s on strict orders from Alfred to stay on bedrest after he’d fallen down in the Cave when his legs gave out on him as he got up from the hospital gurney. Not exactly his best moment.
Even if it did earn him a sponge bath from Tim when they made it upstairs. He aches for a normal shower, but he’s still feeling shaky, so that’s not a good idea. Slipping on wet tile and cracking his skull is a rather ignominious ending. When he kicks the bucket a second time, he wants to go out in a roaring fury, staring death in the face while he does something awesome.
Like saving the world. That’s so much better than last time.
Although, he’ll also settle for simple falling asleep and never waking up again, preferably after having lived a long and full second life with Tim by his side.
Yeah, that sounds a lot better.
Jason dutifully sips at the hot tea the old butler left for him and settles back into the mountain of other pillows that adorn the bed. It’s easy to say Tim is the pillow monster, but really, it’s him.
“Did Dick leave on his own or did you throw him out?” Tim asks, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and using another to dry his hair.
“I fed him a few lines and convinced him to exit stage left.” Jason takes another sip.
“Are you tired?” Tim opens a dresser drawer to remove a clean pair of boxers and some pajama pants. Both towels fall to the floor and Jason is momentarily distracted by all the bare skin before it gets hidden away again.
“Yes and no?” He knows better than to try and evade Tim. “Just have a lot to think about.”
“I’d say so.” Tim picks up the towels and disappears back into the bathroom to hang them up, then joins him in the large bed.
He either doesn’t see the pillow by the door or doesn’t care.
Once he settles in, Jason wraps an arm around him, breathing in the scent of Tim’s hair. It soothes raw nerves in ways that it has no right to, better than anything really, including the good drugs or the hard booze.
“Do you think it worked?” Tim asks, idly drawing circles on Jason’s bare chest with the tip of a finger. “Killing the Jokerwocky, I mean.”
Jason shrugs and doesn’t move. “Dunno. It sure as hell felt good. Still don’t think I’ll ever be okay around crowbars though.”
Tim shifts around in the bed, sitting up and gazing thoughtfully at him. “That’s what you dream about with the Joker, isn’t it? Him and the crowbar standing over you, wet with your own blood?”
He doesn’t want to face those knowing eyes. He’s already dealt with one traumatic event today, it’ll be awhile before he’s ready for another. “Yeah,” is all he offers in reply.
“Were we all in your dream?” Tim asks, taking another track, one that Jason is quietly grateful for. “I had no idea I could pull off the cat look so well.”
Jason laughs and tugs Tim down into the bed so they can better wrap around each other. “Everyone I care about was in there.” He tells him about Tweedle Dick and Damian, which has Tim in stitches in no time flat. About Cass the butterfly, Steph the White Rabbit, and Babs the White Queen. “Honestly though? I about lost my shit when I met Mad Hatter Brucie and Alfred the March Hare. If facing the Jabberwocky was about me and my worst nightmares, then seeing Alfred with bunny ears and a little cotton ball tail was enough to make me want to sign myself into Arkham and never come back out.”
Tim smacks him lightly. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“What? You didn’t see him!”
“Tell me more about the Cheshire Cat.” Tim rolls over and props himself up, chin resting on his hands. “You can’t tell me you didn’t find that version of me attractive.”
There’s a glint in his eye that tells Jason he knows more than he’s letting on. Shit. He’s in so much trouble. “Yeah, about that… Did you know that dream you really likes having his ears scratched?”
“Oh, so does that mean he discovered how much you enjoy having your belly rubbed?”