Chapter Text
Tim Drake gazed wearily over the expanse of warehouses and shipping buildings that surrounded Gotham’s grimy Miller Harbor. He shifted silently and a wave of pleasure washed over his aching legs, having grown almost stiff from the frozen cold.
Blowing a strand of charcoal hair from his wind-chapped face, the boy let out an irritated huff. The night, like the last two long ones that had preceded, was a bust. What a colossal waste of time, Tim thought ruefully, and inwardly berated himself. It was his fault for listening to the demon brat.
Shortly before leaving for Barcelona with Bruce, the obnoxious blood son had called at four in the morning, claiming that Penguin was receiving a major shipment of Malaysian firearms later that week and demanding that Tim get his, “halfwitted vermillion ass down to the docs.” He would have to make sure the deceiving imp would suffer.
Tim sighed and rose restlessly, giving the harbor a thorough once over before slipping off the edge of the roof and falling lightly to the ground. He landed on the gravel below with barely a sound and started to make his way to the bright lights of Gotham’s neighboring East Side. It was only one in the morning, giving Red Robin a solid three hours to wrap up his patrol, get a refreshing five hours of sleep and return to the life of Timothy Drake-Wayne.
Tim shivered as a violent gust of frigid air just about knocked him off his feet as he rounded a corner, and he found himself craving a nice, warm cup of coffee. He knew a great diner near Robinson Park, it would take no time for him to cross the few miles and — BANG!
A gunshot from an adjacent warehouse startled the boy from his musings. From the volume of the shot, the gun was high caliber, high quality, and of high killing potential. Excitement gripped Tim nerves as he grappled onto a window at the rear of the warehouse and peered cautiously down onto the scene below.
Two large, armored trucks stood in the middle of the warehouse, filled to the brim with an assortment of firearms being tested by a fleet of Penguin thugs. Tim counted nine goons in all, while the boss himself lounged against a weapon case with a pipe hanging idly from his smirking mouth. With a number of men, the situation proved difficult, but definitely not impossible. Tim smirked. He loved a challenge.
The Penguin’s expression quickly melded into one of confusion as the warehouse was suddenly engulfed in thick smog from a small smoke bomb. He had already knocked out three men before Red Robin heard Penguin’s shrieks and the telltale sound of gunfire. Tim’s once frowning face was now engulfed in a wide grin. Damian was lucky; his ass was spared this time.
————
The smoke of Jason’s dying cigarette was whipped into Gotham’s hazy atmosphere by a biting wind. He dropped the snub onto the ground and crushed the glowing embers under his boot harshly.
If there was one thing Jason Todd hated, it was to wait. Sure, it was part of the job, and Jason had lost count of how many stakeouts he had been on since he had decided to don the cape and undies. But the patience didn’t come naturally, and even after years of experience, the Red Hood found that loitering around was excruciatingly harder than storming in, shooting a few guys and saving the day. This op was no different, and Jason found himself feeling increasingly antsy as he gave the nearby warehouse a glare.
A loud bang sounded from within the walls, and Jason took it that they were finally testing out the new weapons. He slipped on his helmet and readied his sniper, preparing to silence a few goons from the roof as a hello before dropping in and taking control of the trucks.
But before he was able to swing up onto the nearby fire escape, Jason heard a familiar hiss followed by shouts of surprise and Penguin’s angry squeal. Shaking his head in irritation, the Red Hood slipped the sniper rifle onto his back and patted it longingly before pulling out his favorite matching doll pistols.
As he crashed through a side window and into the warehouse, Jason recognized a slender frame and silver bow staff with a sigh of annoyance.
“I take it Bats didn’t inform you that this is my territory, Replacement,” Jason growled over the encompassing gunfire as he shot one goon in the right knee cap and another in the left.
Drake scoffed as he swept a thug off his feet, knocking him out after a kick to the face with more grace than Jason thought necessary.
“Didn’t really seem like you were in the neighborhood.”
A thug with an AK aimed at the slim boy from behind and Jason shot him squarely in the chest. “Be glad I was,” he murmured.
Jason turned to the remaining men, preparing to shoot before he heard the squeak of retreating tires and Penguin’s manic laugh. He easily took out the driver of the nearest truck but was knocked aside by a particularly beefy bastard before aiming at the other vehicle. Jason fired at the tires of the receding truck, but it was out of range and soon rounded a corner, disappearing from sight.
“Thanks a lot kid, really saved the day here,” Jason spat as he slipped his guns into their holsters and removed his hood to give the younger boy a venomous scowl. Drake’s face turned a flustered shade of red that almost matched his ridiculous costume.
“I took out over half of the guys,” he retorted icily, gesturing to the limp bodies that scattered the warehouse floor. “Plus there’s still one truck left.”
“No thanks to you.” Jason retorted with a glare. Tim’s face managed to grow even redder as he rose from zip-tying the surviving victims.
Jason inhaled deeply and ran a calloused hand through his unruly helmet hair. This incident would inflict major damage to his arms operation. He had already suffered losses earlier this month after the GCPD’s seize of cargo in Chinatown, but what worried him were the Malaysian AKs notoriously dangerous fire power. Not to mention that the Penguin was putting up shop lately with every crime operation in the city, giving any thick skull with the ability to pull back a trigger the opportunity to massacre dozens of innocents.
“It wasn’t my idea to come here tonight anyways,” the brat murmured, Jason forgetting he was there and was now only half listening.
“Damian gave me the tip,” Drake uttered.
The Red Hood, startled out of his reflection, glanced at Drake with disbelief that was quickly shaped into amusement.
“It’s because I couldn’t take him for a ride on my bike last weekend, that cheeky bastard,” Jason chuckled shaking his head a little too endearingly. The look of surprise written on Drake’s sharp face had Jason suppressing a snort.
“Does it irk your perfect little brain that your successor gets more attention than you ever did,” Jason asked quizzically, eyebrow raised.
“Like your favoritism means anything to me, Todd,” Drake fired back without a pause, flicking a piece of long hair from his eyes. “The only reason you and Damian are buddies is because you’re both insane.”
Jason did snicker a little at that comment (the kid was right) but he wanted to pull Drake’s strings a bit more. He was still angry at the outcome of the night and the kid was a little too fun to tease. Jason smirked as he leaned in to meet the third Robin’s intense stare.
“How about ‘ol Dick’s favoritism, then, Replacement?”
Tim flinched for a mere millisecond before regaining his frosty composure. Jason gave him a satisfied leer. Now this was interesting.
“I’m not like you Todd,” Drake seethed, “I can never be substituted.”
Jason shrugged, sliding on his helmet as he strolled past the boy. “Whatever kid, just stay out of my way.” He paused and turned around.
“Or…” Jason’s gloved finger swiped across his throat and then pointed threateningly at the bewildered teen, before swinging back around to give him a receding peace sign.
————
“No.” The answer was so abrupt and packed with cold resolve that Bruce found himself being slightly taken aback by the former Robin’s insistence.
“Tim, you know I don’t have—”
“I said no.”
Bruce’s drained sigh echoed against the walls of the batcave as he rubbed his temple soothingly.
“I know you two have a complicated past but—”
“Complicated past?” Tim snorted, “Oh, how could I forget the time he tried to stick a knife in my freaking neck.”
“I forgot to thank him for that,” a high voice from overhead chortled. Bruce spotted a small shadow hanging upside down from a nearby rafter.
“Damian. Out.”
Bruce gave the young boy a menacing glare. Damian released a faint grumble but dropped from the ceiling and shuffled up the cave stairs.
“Though it doesn’t excuse the act, you know as well as I do that Jason was not in control of his mind at that time of his resurrection,” Bruce muttered gruffly, turning his full attention back to the scowling teenager on the computer screen in front of him.
Tim crossed his arms and examined the floor, refusing to meet Bruce’s calculating stare.
“What about Dick, he’s—”
“In Blüdhaven right now on a solo mission.”
There was a tense silence as Tim sulked through the screen.
“He hates me Bruce,” Tim mumbled. His brows drew together, “and it’s pretty easy for me to hate him too.”
Bruce inwardly sighed. He would have to use another approach.
“This isn’t about you. This isn’t about Jason,” Bruce articulated sternly. “This is about doing your duty as Red Robin and protecting Gotham while I'm gone.”
The teen looked reluctantly up at Bruce.
“I thought I could trust you of all people to do that, regardless of who you’re working with.” Tim’s blue eyes widened. Bruce almost felt bad. Almost.
“I’m not forcing you to do anything, but I figured… If anybody would work well with Jason it would be you,” the older man finished confidently. The surprise was evident on the boy’s features.
“I’m not so sure about that Bruce,” Tim scoffed bitterly.
Bruce paused. “You balance each other out. Your planning and strategy expertise matched with his… steadfastness prove to be an interesting pair. If anyone would be able to keep Jason in check Tim, it would be you.”
Tim inhaled deeply, running a hand through long, black hair.
“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”
Bruce let himself show a rare smile and let go of a small weight on his heavily burdened shoulders.
“Just until you and Damian get back though; I don't by any means want this to become a permanent partnership,” the teen scowled slightly.
“Of course, of course,” Bruce agreed easily, relieved that negotiations were over. Though Tim was usually compliant to Bruce’s requests, it was extremely difficult to argue with him when his mind was made.
“Well, that’s that; I’m going to finish up some case files and then go to sleep,” Tim yawned, stretching his arms above his head with several audible pops heard through the audio feed.
“Yes, thank you... And Tim?” Bruce said gently.
“Hm?” Tim responded sleepily.
“Thank you. I realize that it must be difficult to put your history with Jason aside. I admire that you can approach this situation professionally and with Gotham’s best interests in mind.”
“Of course Bruce,” the boy responded a little flustered.
Bruce smiled again.
“Good night Tim.”
“Signing off.”
————
“Looks like we're stuck together.”
The fact that he didn't sense the other man’s presence behind him before he had spoken irritated Tim. As his legs dangled absently over the edge of the skyscraper at which he was lounging, Red Robin refused to turn around to deliver his answer.
“Seems like it.”
“You get the briefing?”
Tim scoffed.
Jason stalked over to Tim and loomed over his position on the ledge.
“So… what now?”
Tim responded with silence.
“Ok Brain-Boy, I get it, and I honestly don't care.” Jason voice was robotic and cold through his helmet. Tim turned around confused.
“What?”
“You don't like me, I don't like you, it's fine.” Jason began to pull out his grappling hook, setting his sights on the adjacent building.
“Wait, Jason, I--“
“We just stay out of each other's way for three months and Gotham will most likely survive,” the Red Hood remarked as he got ready to leap.
“Jason.”
Tim grabbed the other man’s forearm a second before he stepped off the building’s edge.
“We’re not friends, I get it, and I honestly don’t think we ever will be,” Tim said quickly, standing up to face Jason with his whole height.
Jason looked at Tim’s hand, the younger man retracting it quickly. Red Robin took a deep breath, gathering his bearings.
“The point is, whether you like it or not, we’ll be the only masks in the city for a while and I’m…” Tim huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m really trying to be mature about this here.”
“What, trying to be a good boy for Bats while he’s away?”
Tim scoffed. “I’m trying to do the right thing Jason, this has nothing to do with anyone’s approval.”
Tim willed himself not to flinch as the empty eyes of Red Hood’s mask stared at him for a long moment. The eerie trance was broken after Jason gave a bitter chuckle and turned his gaze to the Gotham skyline.
“I used to think the same thing too kid.”
Then he was gone.