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I told Bruce the keyboard is too tiny, Jason thought as he angrily pecked out his alias into the Wayne Enterprises reception system iPad. He had to correct Peyr to Peter twice and he didn’t have the time for this shit. Not that anyone has the time to deal with the absolute annoyance that is modern technology. He squinted at it. It wasn’t an iPad really, it was the new WayneTech model. Bruce had wanted easier data input in the field, but this tablet had been a failure; you got a little blood on your gauntlets and the capacitive screen got all confused, thinking all the buttons were being pressed at the same time. Bruce was going to scrap it, but Tim had saved it, said he thought its durability ‘gave it a unique value proposition.’ Now the tablet was sought after in hospitals, farms, and anywhere you needed to be able to do more with an electronic than just look at it, which was definitely more than you could say of the traditional iPad.
The thing was selling like hotcakes and had cemented Tim’s reputation as a market whisperer. Jason had seen the headlines in all the papers calling him a Wunderkind, a savant, making borderline jokes about him being Metahuman. They all acted like he was this genius just using his gut to feel his way through brilliant decision after brilliant decision.
They didn’t know him, and they didn’t know the half of it. It wasn’t that Tim had a knack for knowing what would work, it was just that he was stubborn. He refused to throw things away when other people thought they were worthless; he just wouldn’t give up. He thought everything had a use.
Tim still had some sort of idealism which somehow meant that Jason was trying to stamp down some technology induced rage. He finally got his alias in and sat down to wait in the open-concept lobby space of the new Wayne Enterprises corporate complex.
He was only here in the spirit of not getting yelled at. One of the kids Jason worked with came in with a tip about some Italian mafia -- thought Jason guessed that was redundant, like saying PIN number. Anyway, the tip put the activity square in Red Robin’s neighbourhood. Jason could handle it himself, but it would mean trespassing on Tim’s turf so Jason’s come to go over the info with Tim. It was too much to do over messages or comms and Jason didn’t want to wait.
Jason could have gone up the secure entrance that goes straight to the executive suite, but that way meant dealing with more security and Jason wasn’t in the mood for a pat down. So he sat himself on a leather padded bench under the slightly interested gaze of two in-house security guards and ignored how he was sweltering in his motorcycle jacket.
His chest prominently displayed his visitor sticker, blaring out the message that he wasn’t permanent, he’s just visiting.
It wasn’t like anything about this place could make him forget that.
He’d barely had a chance to decide if he wouldn’t be tagged for stealing if he grabbed a glass of chilled fruit water before a smiling and perfectly put-together asian woman was beckoning him through the barrier. She’d been moving so fast her hair was still swinging but didn’t seem at all out of breath, some sort of superpower competent assistants must share. She had him in the elevator and before he knew it they were rising. Jason wasn’t that familiar with corporate culture, in the daytime at least, but the way she grabbed him felt suspiciously fast, almost like he’s being hidden away.
Can’t have the grubby biker boy getting his grease all over their chrome and steel, he thought.
The elevator dinged and Jason stepped out into the elevator lobby. He gave it a critical once over, noted that steel barriers could be dropped down to surround the space. She waved him through to the smaller, more private waiting area.
“Can I get you anything?” She asked. “Mr. Drake-Wayne said you prefer Zesti, but we also have coffee and a selection of teas if you would like.”
Zesti was his favourite but he couldn’t figure out why Tim would have made sure this woman knew that. He stared at her for a moment, hard, and she waited him out with a smile polite smile. Tim sure knew how to pick ‘em; he felt like he could ask her for anything and she wouldn’t blink, serve him up a pound of cocaine with the same smile as a chocolate chip cookie. “Sure,” he mumbled, “Zesti is fine.”
She nodded and before she stepped away said, “Since you’re not on his calendar, you may not be aware that Tim is currently hosting the quarterly Town Hall and cannot be disturbed. You’re welcome to wait here and I’m sure he will be with you as soon as he can.” She stepped away. He didn’t really know what that meant, but fine. He could wait.
Seconds later, she was back with a chilled soda and a glass of ice. Which meant that not only did Tim remember what he liked, he kept it in stock. Jason wondered how long the Zesti had been there. If he’d come by last week would she have had one? What about last month? What about years ago when Tim had a lower position and Jason was still trying to merc him on the regular?
He noticed she had paused next to him and he forced himself out of his reverie to make eye contact. “Do you mind if I put the Town Hall on?” She asked. Her eyes were so hopeful that he couldn’t really bring himself to say no.
She turned on the sound on the TV across from where Jason was sitting and went back to sit behind her desk where with a small rotation she could see the screen and luckily could not see Jason. It’s a bit of a break from having to pretend to be normal and appropriate. The screen displayed a stage with some tall chairs on it. Jason squinted as he recognised Tim on one of those chairs. The ‘Town Hall’ must be some sort of corporate bullshit. He could take thirty minutes of that, right?
Someone in the audience was asking, “--increase the number of women in R&D positions?”
Tim was nodding thoughtfully from the tall chair he was perched on. He’d taken off his jacket and artfully hung it off the back of the chair. It should look ridiculous, a boy playing dress up but without a tie and the top two buttons undone, he looked powerful, youthful, and utterly in command. Jason shifted a little in his seat.
Tim answered, “I’m going to let Yasmin, our head of People Practices, answer this one, but before I do I want to speak to this a little.” He paused, looking out at the crowd and you could hear a pin drop. People Practices, what the fuck, Jason though. How does Tim keep a straight face?
“Increasing the diversity of perspectives at Wayne Enterprises is one of my top priorities. I don’t just believe, I know, that our company is stronger with diverse voices. Our products are better, and we are better able to reach our company goals.” Jason took a sip of soda and let the cool liquid coat his tongue. He’d heard Tim use this voice before. It was usually right before the villain turned themselves in or Tim was about to do something suicidally reckless; even money on which.
Tim’s eyes searched across the crowd and then made distinct eye contact with the camera, which he held. “This conversation doesn’t end here. Over the next few months you’re going to be hearing a lot from me and from my leadership team about this. If you’ve got thoughts about how to improve our diversity numbers -- and I mean all sorts of diversity in this, including race, sexual orientation, gender identity, disability,” he paused for a second a smile, sharp toothed. “Well. You all know how to get in contact with me.” Jason sucked some more soda. “I’ll hand it over to Yasmin now to talk about some of our already existing initiatives.”
Jason knew that if he was shooting the shit with Tim and brought up Wayne Enterprises being a boys’ club, Tim would drop his piece of pizza back in his plate, carefully wipe the grease off of his fingers, and go into details about the work Tim wanted to do. He’d say something about the number of female-headed households in Gotham making under the median income and how the best way to break the cycle of poverty was by enabling mothers to get higher education, and Jason wouldn’t think about his mom and everything she hadn’t gotten to have. Tim would talk about free science camp for girls, and he’d talk about how he was at fifty percent women at the executive level -- though he’d admit that those figures skewed towards legal and administration and they could do better.
Jason knew this because he’d heard him say it.
Jason darted a glance over at the assistant who was beaming at the screen, eyes glowing. Tim had that effect on people. And the thing was, he really meant it. The Yasmin woman was droning on, throwing out some statistics about maternity leave and talking about fellowships for underrepresented groups and how they’d increased diversity in hiring panels and yadda yadda.
It didn’t matter how many years Tim had been seeing the worst Gotham had to offer, it didn’t matter how much cynicism Jason threw back at him; Tim was always trying.
The questions had moved on but Jason couldn’t sit there anymore.
He put his drink down with a loud clunk and stood up, heading back towards the elevators. “Mr. Todd?” The assistant called out, but he didn’t look back.
***
Red Hood crashed through the Gotham night. He found some drug deals, a bar fight that had spilled out, and a john getting a little handsy and ruined their day. He was good at this. He could punch his way through anything.
And if he stayed clear of Red Robin’s territory no one needed to know.
He ran out of guys to hit after a while, though, so he stopped on a rooftop for a bit. He should have expected it, but he was still somehow surprised when Red Robin ziplined his way over, landing on the same crumbling rooftop in the Narrows that Jason was on. Jason kicked at a corner and it broke off -- definitely needed some rebar reinforcement.
Tim approached him noisily and obviously from the north, hands wide as Jason turned around to face him. Considerate of him but Jason had clocked him three rooftops over and had decided it was better to get it over with.
When Tim was still a good ten feet away he called out, “If you’re here to complain about me clogging up your office today, don’t worry, the alias I used was clean.”
Tim kept approaching, slowly. “I know,” he said. “O and I helped you set it up after you got out of prison, remember?” His words were equally slow, like Jason was stupid or something. Jason wasn’t stupid. Sure, it had been a weak opening statement, but Tim didn’t need to be so condescending.
Tim kept his hands still, stopped a few feet away from Jason. “Besides, you’re welcome any time, didn’t Lydia make you feel welcome?” Somehow, Jason knew that if he said she was mean to him then Tim would be having words with her. She didn’t deserve that even though he did want to take Tim down a notch.
Begrudgingly he admitted, “She got me a Zesti.”
Tim smiled. Smug bastard.
“So,” Tim said.
“So,” Jason said back, mockingly. That wiped the smile off Tim’s face.
When he spoke again, his voice was all business. “I assume you didn’t just come by for the soda. What did you want to talk about?”
Getting out of the personal waters and in the mission should have cooled Jason off but instead he just felt the pressure behind his eyes grow more and more. Tim wasn’t even going to tell him off? He didn’t even rate a ‘What did you think you were doing?’
“Oh, nothing,” Jason said breezily, “Just some mob activity that you let grow up in your neighbourhood --” Tim frowned, “cause you were too busy with your corporate masturbation to do anything important.”
Jason spit the words at Tim and he wasn’t sure how he wanted Tim to react. Part of him wanted Tim to look at him with fervour and tell him all about his corporate shit and why it mattered, try to make Jason believe it the way he tried to make all his underlings buy-in. Part of him wanted Tim to say that Jason’s right, that their rooftop activities are what really matters, fuck Wayne Enterprises. And another part of him wanted Tim to get right up in his face and tell him the goddamn truth: that Jason’s world was small, and dark, and violent, and he couldn’t keep dragging Tim into this shit cause Tim belonged up on that 30th floor with pre-chilled Zesti and a devoted army working with him to make his plans happen.
No matter what, he didn’t belong with Jason.
For a second he thought he saw Tim stiffen up, mouth dropping open, but it was just for a second. When he looked again Tim was slouching with his trademark smirk firmly back in place. “Alright then,” Tim said, “Seems like someone didn’t get his pre-patrol nap.” Tim took one step backwards, then another.
Jason knew he was being petty and childish and he was self-aware enough to know why. ‘Cause of that he took one breath, then another, pushing down the spike of rage Jason felt at Tim’s dismissiveness. Tim couldn’t just leave.
He sped to catch Tim before he could get too far away and Tim -- stepped back.
Jason stopped dead.
“You thought I was going to hurt you.” Jason felt the words in his mouth; they rung out a little, hollow.
Tim scoffed. “No.” He hesitated and Jason wished, not for the first time, that he could see Tim’s eyes in his stupid cowl. Tim shifted a little, foot to foot. “Well. You know I can’t take you in close range combat.”
Normally Jason would be pretty pleased that Tim thought he was such a good fighter and damn right Jason could beat him. But right now he was just tired, all of his frustration drained away, leaving nothing behind it.
“Whatever,” Jason said. Jason turned his back, dropping down to sit on the edge of the building. “Just go.” Jason bowed his head. He’d sit for a bit and then figure out what to do. The lights were twinkling across Gotham through the smog, enough constellations to steer himself by.
Silence reigned on the rooftop for a second, nothing but the background sound of sirens and car noise from down below. Then he heard the kick of steel-toed boots against brick and knew Tim was coming.
Tim dropped down next to him. Jason didn’t look over.
They sat for a long moment.
“You’re going to make me say it?” Tim sounded a little long-suffering.
“Say what?”
“Alright, it was my bad,” Tim said and Jason nearly choked on his tongue. That was not what he was expecting. “I know I was trying to piss you off, you had every right to take a swing.” Jason gave Tim a sideways look; seemed like Tim meant it, which was just. Jason had tried to hit Tim in anger in almost a year; Jason doesn’t want to hit Tim at all. But he doesn’t know how to say that.
So Jason waved it off. “Pretty sure you were just trying to get out of the blast radius of my asshole splooge,” Jason said. He watched Tim’s reaction closely and was gratified to see him shudder.
“Your -- disgusting, Jay, why?”
Jason threw his arm behind his head, stretching out. “I can’t help my natural charm, baby, I was born like this.”
Tim gave him a full smile, which when paired with the cowl usually meant imminent violence, but Jason knew what Tim meant. He let himself sink into the warm satisfaction of being the one who put it there.
Then Tim let the smile slip away into a more serious expression and Jason felt his stomach drop with the smile.
Tim quieted his voice. “Why’d you go this morning, Jay?” Tim bit his lip but Jason wasn’t going to call him on the nickname, even though Tim had dropped it for the second time in as many minutes. “Is it because I gave everyone standing instructions to let you up? Because there’s no pressure there, I don’t expect you to do any Wayne Enterprises business and you don’t have to see -- anyone, if you don’t want to.” Jason’s not sure who Tim meant to say, there’s a lot of names that could fill that gap. Tim dropped his voice even quieter and Jason had to strain to pick it up. “I know business me is a jerk, but you don’t have to watch.”
Which first of all was just ridiculous. Business Tim was hot, which was such a self-evident truth that Jason felt comfortable admitting to himself even though he was internalising a complex dilemma about the rest of Tim.
Jason gave him the side-eye. Tim cannot possibly be this oblivious, but it didn’t look like he was trying to fuck with him.
Jason sighed.
He was going to have to say it, or trying not to say it was just going to make him stupider and stupider. O and I made your alias, indeed. He needed all the brain cells he had for important stuff, like beating the shit out of criminals and remembering where he parked his bike.
Jason started shaking his head. “You don’t get it, you don’t --” Jason gave up and kissed him. It was a solid kiss, no gentle brush of lips. Jason came in smooth and from the left, angled just enough to avoid the cowl and pressed their lips together. If Jason had felt like he hadn’t belonged at Wayne Enterprises, that was nothing compared to how it felt kissing Tim. This was pure trespass, Gotham’s seedy underbelly come for the Penthouse suite, tracking dirt all over the carpets, hard mouth pressed against Tim’s soft lips.
Jason held them together for one heartbeat, a full second, then he released Tim, brushing his nose against Tim’s, just once, on the way out.
He leaned back and sighed. Tim was just sitting next to him, a rock. “Ok,” Jason said. He waited for Tim to say something.
Tim didn’t say anything.
Jason sighed and braced himself to stand. He got what he got and it would have to be enough.
Tim’s hand shot out and Jason didn’t move, didn’t block and...Tim just grabbed his wrist. Jason still flinched. Tim ignored it. “No.” Tim said, “No way are you leaving. You are going to sit here and I am going to take a minute.”
Jason groaned internally. Batman never got rejected. Batman could just throw a smoke bomb. “How much time, do you think? Cause, uh, there’s some crime that I could probably --”
“I will take as long as I need, Jason, and you will sit here.” Shit, that was business Tim voice and combined with the phantom pressure of Tim’s lips against his it was doing things to Jason. Some wires were getting crossed that couldn’t get uncrossed and Jason didn’t need to end up having a reaction every time he walked past a TV showing a news program with Tim’s face on it.
Jason sighed and Tim squeezed, a warning. Message received.
It left Jason with some time to think.
What was his good outcome? Even if Tim did throw self-preservation and sense to the wind and decide to go for Jason, what then? Jason couldn’t make it thirty minutes at Wayne Enterprises this morning, he couldn’t stay there. And he couldn’t imagine Tim moving into his shitty series of safehouses.
There was nothing Jason could offer Tim.
Right now Jason was the metaphorical kid standing with his hands pressed against the department store window looking at all the Christmas treats inside. That was fine. Worse was Jason getting in that store, trashing the displays, eating all the candy, just cause he could, just cause he couldn’t help himself.
Jason opened his mouth to respond but Tim just shushed him.
They sat there. Every once in a while Tim touched his lips with his fingers.
Finally Tim spoke. “The problem is, I can’t figure out whether I’m more upset that I was too stupid to figure this out, or that we could have been doing that for ages if you’d just said something.”
Jason responded more to the tone than the words, “I’m not one of your fucking iPads, Tim.” Then he wished he could take it back.
“My what?” Tim sounded just a little bit frustrated. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the world’s most obvious response, but Jason felt like it summed it up. Jason felt his lips quirk a little. At least he could still surprise Tim as the rest of his house of cards was about to tumble down around him. “I don’t -- what do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not one of your projects. I’m never going to wear one of your fancy suits, never gonna go to a cocktail party.” Jason blew out a breath. “I know you pulled me out of prison when everyone else wanted to let me rot, and I’ve finally stopped resenting you for that, so, you’re welcome.” Tim smiled, just a ghost of one, and Jason grinned back at him.
Yeah, I still got it, Jason thought. He knew he was charming as shit. Jason got serious again, “But I’m still me. I’d rather just fuckin’ stew than feel like you were pitying me, or worse yet, being too stubborn to quit when you should.” Tim could talk a big game about not giving a fuck about Gotham society, but he was one of them and he’d lose them with Jason hanging around.
Jason wouldn’t even have to do anything to destroy Tim’s life, just be himself.
“I don’t know if you noticed, Jason,” Tim said, and Jason sort of missed the nickname. “But you’re not an iPad.” Tim hesitated, “And not to be pedantic -- shut up, I’m trying to not be pedantic --” Jason wasn’t going to say anything, Jason was just thinking it really loud. “They’re not iPads, they’re DuraTabs.” Jason glared at him and Tim put up the hand that wasn’t still holding Jason’s. “I mean I don’t think of you like an iPad?” Tim put down his hands.
“You’re a person.” Tim spoke with such certainty, no sarcasm anywhere, and Jason found it hard to breathe. “To me first, always, you’re a person, not a project, and I like who you are.” That wasn’t a lie, Jason could tell. “I don’t want you to change.”
It shouldn’t matter. Jason’s worries weren’t about Tim’s feelings, but about who Jason is, and who Tim is and how one of them is a bird and one of them is a swamp dwelling frog and it’s some sort of fairy tale that meant they could never be together.
So. Nothing Tim’s said should matter. Except that it did.
Tim released the grip on Jason’s wrist. Jason kind of missed it. But Tim was only moving so he could put out both of his hands. “I know we fight about your methods, sometimes, but every relationship has a little conflict in it, right?” Tim sounded so hopeful and Jason was weak to that tone.
The hell of it was, this approach was working on him. He wanted it so badly and Tim knew him. When Tim said he liked Jason as he was, Tim knew exactly what he was signing up for.
And hadn’t Jason known that?
Tim harped on him all the time: don’t kill that guy. Are you sure you want to be running a gang? But he never stopped him, or, hell, even seemed disappointed in him. Tim would only ever grumble at Jason a little and then they would just pick up from where they were and kept going.
“Relationship?” Jason asked, throwing out the question like a lifeline, trying to keep himself grounded and not get ahead of himself. He was beginning to get carried away and he needed Tim to crash him back to earth.
Jason watched a blotchy flush appear on Tim’s cheeks. He knew from experience that meant it went all the way down to his throat; Jason wanted to chase the mottling down, see how far it went before it stopped.
“I mean, unless you were just planning to fuck me on the roof and then run,” Tim said and the image was very compelling. Jason could crack the Red Robin uniform open like an egg and get Tim all laid out beneath him, all soft pale skin for Jason to explore. Tim snapped Jason out of his fantasy. “But if you were going to do that, then you might as well have drunk the Zesti.”
“This is going to be a thing, isn’t it?” Jason tried to sound aggrieved but he was already smiling. It ruined the effect.
“You mean, how you fled from my personal coordinator because you were overcome with my raw sexual magnetism? Yes. This is a thing, forever.” Of course Tim spent the time they were sitting there analyzing their history for clues. He’s such a nerd, Jason thought fondly.
“Any way to make it stop?” Jason wasn’t very optimistic about that but he was slowly leaning in.
“You’ll just have to give me a reason to shut up.” Their faces were so close Jason could feel Tim’s breath against his lips.
“I can do that,” Jason said, and brought their mouths together again.