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Jason sits at a large round table on the dinner cruise ship, rubbing his head absently as the last of what he knows is a knock-out drug makes its way through his system. It has to be a knock-out drug because why the hell else would he even be here? At least he has clothes, which he knows is Alfred’s doing.
Clothing that’s not the garishly colored Hawaiian shirt like Dickie has on. Fuchsia is now on his list of least favorite colors, but those shades of yellow, orange, and pink making up the flowers printed on the shirt are getting damn close to joining it. He needs another drink. Something that’s not electric blue like the one his brother is downing like Kool-Aid.
It’s small consolation when he notices Tim looking like he’s having about as much fun as he is. He catches his eye from across the table, looks pointedly at Bruce, makes a face, then looks back. Tim rolls his eyes and nods slightly. Yup. He got dragged here too. Probably conscious. Or maybe not, considering his workaholic tendencies. His replacement always looks exhausted so it’s hard to tell.
Glancing around the table, Jason can’t help but notice Cass has been strategically placed beside him. She may be able to keep him from picking a fight, even in the cute sundress she’s wearing, but it won’t stop him from throwing himself overboard and swimming for shore if things get really bad. They’re not that far out. He can see Diamondhead Crater very clearly from his chair. Blondie laughs loudly at something Dickie says and Tim glares at her like it’s the ultimate betrayal.
But it's Damian who makes Jason smirk when he takes in what the little demon has been forced to wear. Loud green with white flowers that is tame compared to the frenetic energy of Dick’s shirt, but what makes it hilarious is that it’s a mini version of Bruce’s. The thundercloud on the brat’s face makes it very clear he’s aware of the fact and is pissed there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.
A light tap on his thigh has Jason casting his gaze over at Cass. “What?”
“Don’t cause trouble,” she warns, but there’s a lightness in her eyes that tells him she’s not too worried about it.
“Who me? I’m just the kidnapped son who doesn’t legally exist sitting here with his family and wants to drink away his second-hand embarrassment with weak booze.”
Cass cracks a small smile and winks. She pushes over something white, red, and frozen. “Have mine. Steph ordered it.”
That he can do.
After dinner, Jason stands at the back of the boat looking out over the ocean. A cool breeze blows over the water, muting the muggy heat of the day. The sunset has everyone’s attention at the front of the boat, but he doesn’t care. He sips his third piña colada (or maybe it’s his fourth, he stopped keeping track after Dickie spilled that blue crap on his shirt earlier when he and Steph tried to hula) and tries to think about precisely nothing.
It works until someone joins him.
Glancing over, he sees Tim with a frosty orange and red drink in hand. “You old enough to be drinkin’ that?” he taunts.
“Close enough,” his replacement replies and takes a pointed sip. “I need it after the shit I’ve gone through today."
Jason snorts and tries to cover it because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the younger bird so riled up. “Almost makes me glad I missed most of it.”
“It was Damian who tranq’d you by the way,” Tim offers with a brief but vicious smirk.
“Noted.” Jason heaves a massive sigh and turns around, the top of the railing digging into his back as he leans against it. “So, what’s the plan?”
Tim eyes him innocently over the rim of his drink. “What plan?”
“Don’t bullshit me. You’ve got a plan to make Bruce and probably Dickie’s lives miserable for however long we’re stuck on this family vacation from hell.” It’s what he’d be doing if he wasn’t starting to feel a little woozy. Probably not the best idea to mix even crap booze with the aftereffects of a Batman strength tranquilizer. Swimming doesn’t sound so good right now.
But there’s that evil and devious grin he loves seeing so much on his replacement’s face. It’s the grin that spells doom for whoever the intended recipient is. Jason will admit only to himself that it kind of turns him on.
“As a matter of fact, I do. Care to join me?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
Later that night, Jason stumbles into his hotel room. He’s drunk and tired, which normally make for explosive conditions, but he is determined to find out what Tim has in that bag he’s carrying. After the dinner cruise ended and they returned to shore, the Pretender disappeared for a brief time, only to return with a shopping bag and a whispered promise of later.
It’s later.
He’s not sure which genius paired them together in the same room, but right now, it works all too well for their plans.
Jason collapses onto one of the beds, not caring in the slightest if it’s his or Tim’s. A bed is a bed is a bed.
“You want to see this now or wait until morning?” Tim asks, sitting beside him. He hears the sound of a bag rustling. “I couldn’t find an exact match to what I’m wearing tomorrow, but I’d say this is at least comparable.”
Rolling over sucks, but Jason has to see what monstrosity he’s cramming himself into for the sake of revenge. What he sees has him sitting up and gaping. It’s fucking perfect. “Can I try it on now?”
He doesn’t wait for Tim to reply and starts stripping right there on the bed. Thank god he’s wearing shorts because he’d probably get lost if he were in jeans.
Tim makes a choked noise and stands abruptly. “Let me cut the tags off.”
His shirt takes longer to remove, but when Jason emerges from it, a small piece of fabric hits him in the face. “What?”
It’s a speedo that looks like it will actually fit. He can’t help but shoot a lecherous look at his replacement. “Someone knows what I’m packing.”
Tim’s ears blaze red and he looks away. “I’ve showered next to you, asshat.”
Interesting. Jason stores this away to analyze later when he’s sober. He removes his boxers and shimmies into the black speedo. “Alright, where is it?”
“You have no shame.” Tim glances back at him, eyes darting down to his crotch before jerking back up. “God, what the hell am I thinking?” he mutters as he hands over the pièce de résistance.
“I lost my shame ages ago, Timmy, and haven’t been able to find it since.” Jason notices the buttons are undone already, so he starts putting his legs into the linen shorts. It’s definitely a snug fit over his thighs, but it slides all the way up over his hips. He sees why Tim bought the speedo now. “If I’m not careful, this is gonna rip.”
“That’s why you’ve got at least some coverage.”
“Yeah, free balling it would be more fun though.”
“And get you arrested for public indecency.”
Jason stands and carefully puts his arms through the upper part of the outfit. He’s not even going to bother with the buttons tonight, the arm holes are bad enough. Those are definitely getting slit in the morning. “Can’t arrest a dead man.”
“Remind me never to take you to Scotland.”
“Come on, I look awesome in this. Can you imagine what I’d look like in a kilt?”
There’s a dazed expression in Tim’s eyes as he clearly imagines it. A dusting of red highlights his cheeks.
Jason may be drunk, but goddamn, he’s not stupid. “You liiiiike me.”
Tim shakes himself out of his little fantasy. “What? No. No, I don’t.”
“Don’t lie to me, pretender. I know you.” Jason stalks forward on rubbery legs, pinning Tim against the other bed. He has no choice but to face him or fall. “You’ve been checking out my junk. My guns.”
Tim eyes his shoulders and chest, visibly tracing the muscle before he gets a hold of himself. “Your guns are back home.”
“I got two of them right here.” He raises an arm and flexes. Screw cutting the sleeves, he’s ripping them off.
“You’re drunk.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not interested.” Wait. Is he? Shit.
Tim spots his indecision and shoves him away with strength that belies his lean frame. “You’re drunk and not exactly firing on all cylinders right now.”
Jason drops down heavily onto the bed he’s apparently claimed for his own. “No, I’m not. But I’m not gonna let you forget about this.”
“You wouldn’t be you if you did.”
This is true. He’s really regretting that last rum punch right about now because this night could be going in a whole different direction if he had. Timmy has a really pretty mouth. Dammit. Something else occurs to him. “Hey, Timmers.”
“What?” Tim asks warily.
“I don’t think I can get undressed without some help.”
“Fuck.”
“Nah, I wanna be sober for that.”
The next morning, Jason leans heavily against a large potted plant at the back of the swanky hotel, enjoying what will probably be his first and only peaceful cigarette of the day. He’s tired, hungover, and he’s pretty sure he has a wedgie, but damn, the view of the turquoise blue water is soothing on his raw nerves as he waits for the rest of his family to meet up for breakfast.
What the fuck happened last night? Did he actually come on to Tim? His replacement? The pretender? Judging by the other man’s reaction to him this morning, that would be a definite yes. But he also remembers the pretty blush and not so subtle stares. The lingering touches as Tim helped him undress. He even made him drink a water bottle before letting him pass out.
Jason takes another drag and holds the smoke in his lungs before releasing it. The burn helps him focus. He doesn’t have time for this right now. There’s a revenge plot about to unfold and he needs to be prepared. He can think about whatever it is between him and Tim later.
Because there is something.
Looking down, he still can’t believe he managed to get this thing on. The tropical green and coconut printed romper is obscenely tight, but he can move, even if he can’t button it up all the way. Tim had completed the outfit with a woven belt and, before letting him out of their room, had grabbed hold of his arm and spun him around, popping his collar.
In a weird way, it reminds him of Dickie’s Discowing suit, just green and with shorts. He’s glad to at least be in his own shoes, even if they’re a pair of outdoor sandals he’d never otherwise wear if Alfred hadn’t clearly packed for him.
Behind him, Jason hears a choked noise. Glancing over his shoulder, he spots the first victim of the day.
Game on.
“You okay?” Dick asks cautiously as he sidles up next to him. He’s still in a loud printed shirt, which the dark tinting of Jason’s sunglasses does nothing to dispel. It makes him doubt how effective they’re going to be against the bright sun.
“Fuck you,” is what he chooses to say instead of sharing his thoughts. He takes a final puff from his cigarette and drops it, stubbing it out under his heel absently.
“Here.” His brother hands over a small bottle of some pinkish colored juice. “It’s guava, passion fruit, and papaya juice.”
It’s not orange, but it’ll do. “Thanks,” Jason mutters as he accepts it.
Dick waits a moment, clearly wanting to ask the obvious question, but holds himself back. Jason starts an internal countdown as he sips his juice. He’s pretty sure he had this but with rum in it last night.
He hits thirty three by the time Dickie speaks up. “I’m pretty sure Alfred didn’t pack that for you.”
“You’d know that how?”
“Because I know Alfred.” Dick’s eyes narrow, opening studying Jason’s outfit. “You and Tim are up to something.”
“What makes you think that?” He averts his eyes and drinks more juice. It's helping his headache more than the meds he took earlier.
Dick smirks and shakes his head. “Tim is just as unhappy about being here as you are and while he didn’t have to be tranq’d, I did catch him muttering things about revenge on the plane. He won’t out and out sabotage our plans, but he will make his displeasure known in very passive-aggressive ways. So, that said, what is it? Because you’re obviously part of it.”
Jason scowls as his brother picks apart their plan. “Bruce wants to play tourist? Fine, we’ll play tourist.”
“In a one-piece shirt and shorts set that is clearly riding up your ass?”
“Mine is a last minute purchase.”
“Obviously.” Rather than appear upset with the whole thing, Dick seems more amused than anything else. “Tell you what. You make it through the whole day without that thing ripping, then I’ll spend tomorrow in a speedo and an open Hawaiian shirt.”
It's in moments like these that Jason remembers Dick likes to cause Bruce headaches too. “I make it all day in this thing and that’s about all I’m going to want to wear tomorrow too.”
Before Dick has a chance to reply, there’s a loud squeal and Blondie comes running down the path, Cass trailing along more sedately behind her. “Oh my god, Jason! What are you wearing?”
Jason tosses his empty juice bottle in the trash. “Revenge.”
At breakfast, Bruce is visibly displeased with his choice of clothing for the day’s activities. “I’m sure you have more comfortable things to wear,” is all he says though as they enter the open air restaurant.
Jason pointedly looks down and grins somewhat sadistically. “Not that I could find.”
Bruce retreats and starts speaking quietly with Dick, no doubt planning to raid Jason’s suitcase later and remove any questionable items.
Good luck with that since Dickie is mostly on his side for a change. Jason gladly sits down at the table and eyes the buffet warily. Most days he’d be over there in a heartbeat, but he’s still slightly hungover, so the thought of food doesn’t make him feel any particular sense of urgency.
Picking up the drink menu though, he finds something that does pique his interest. “I’ll have a mimosa,” he announces when the waiter comes by to take their drink orders.
“Aren’t you sloshed enough?” Damian snaps. He still won’t look directly at him, which he finds hilarious. His face had turned purple earlier when he and Bruce had joined them.
“He’s on vacation,” Cass chimes in, patting Jason’s bare thigh. By unspoken consensus amongst Bruce’s kids (most of them), the open seat beside him belongs to Tim, if he ever decides to show up.
“Yeah, I’m on vacation,” Jason echoes.
“Where’s Tim?” Bruce asks, trying to derail the argument.
“Check the coffee shop,” Damian mutters sourly. The teen very much wants to be anywhere else but here. Jason can commiserate.
“I’m here,” the young man in question says as he finally makes his appearance.
Jason watches his family rather than Tim. He knows what he’s wearing, even if he hasn’t seen it on yet.
It’s priceless, especially Bruce’s reaction as the man’s jaw actually drops before he recovers. Damian isn’t so fast and his mouth hangs open long enough Jason wonders if he’s using it as a flycatcher. Dick starts laughing and Stephanie’s giggles have a hysterical edge to them. Cass alone seems nonplussed, which probably means she doesn’t get what's so funny about Tim.
Or specifically, what he's wearing.
A white romper with pineapples all over it, carefully buttoned up all the way with the collar folded perfectly. There’s the fanny-pack of doom around his waist, also white with pineapples on it. His sneakers are white but at least his socks don’t go up to his knees. To top it all off, Tim has a large pair of sunglasses on, as well as a straw hat with a string hanging down his back. He even has a camera on a strap around his neck.
Jason is just a little bit in love with him for pulling this off (and kinda wonders what it’ll look like when wet).
“Lookin’ good, Timmers,” he offers, giving him a thumbs up.
“Thanks. So do you.” Tim sits down and carefully removes his camera from around his neck. “Oh, you forgot this.”
He places a hat on Jason’s head, one that’s a little too small to do much of anything but look snazzy. “What the hell is this called anyway?”
“It’s a trillby,” he replies as he swipes Jason’s water and takes a sip.
Blondie is still giggling, but she’s whispering to Cass and explaining the joke. Damian rushes over to the buffet, not wanting to be seen anywhere near his brothers. And Bruce…Bruce just shakes his head and sighs, not even bothering with a comment. He doesn’t stand a chance.
“He knows he’s being punished,” Tim says quietly after the rest of the family heads to the buffet.
“Damn straight he does,” Jason agrees. “And he can’t do anything about it.”
Tim grins that vicious grin that is starting to make Jason’s stomach wobble each time he sees it. “We should find matching outfits for the luau tonight.”
The thought makes Jason’s brain implode from sheer audacity. And from the fact that he is now positive he’s attracted to Tim and his sense of humor. “Yes,” he agrees emphatically. “What are your thoughts on grass skirts and leis?”
His replacement leans back in his chair, his grin growing even more audacious. “I look fantastic in a skirt.”