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“Goddammit,” Jason whispered to himself as he looked up and watched the heavy humidity turn into a drizzle.
It was December and as cold as a witch’s teat, yet Jason was still about five blocks from his apartment. Gotham City was just starting to show its biting winter teeth and they had gotten a small smattering of snow earlier in the week that quickly turned into a grey, slushy mess on the sidewalks.
The liminal phase between autumn and winter was always Jason’s least favourite time of year.
When he had been living on the streets, it was this in-between time when kids started dying from cold. It was never the coldest time, but it was wet. Kids wouldn’t have their guard up against winter yet. They would still think that they had time to prepare for snow and frantically gather supplies like squirrels trying to store nuts. Water would sneak into clothes and they would fall asleep still wet from sleet and slush. And then, when Gotham’s temperature plummeted in the night and the damp clothes froze to their skin…
Yeah, it was Jason’s least favourite time of year.
He shivered, shaking some droplets from his hair that were beginning to collect on the tips.
He needed to get home. He hated this weather and the drizzle was slowly becoming full-out sleet.
Jason huffed, his breath puffing all around him like train smoke.
Mentally, he brought up the Gotham map in his head. He could keep following this street at then make the turn at Waters St. or…
He looked towards the alleyway and did some internal calculations.
He could take some alley shortcuts.
A raindrop crawled down his spine and made a shudder wrack through his body.
Yep. Shortcut. Now.
Jason pulled his jacket tighter around him and ducked into an alleyway. The buildings arched around him and thankfully cut off some to the rain. The cold still bit through his clothes and sunk its stinging barbs into his skin.
He picked up his pace and nudged his way between dumpsters only to find a chainlink fence blocking his path.
No problem, he could just jump it. It wasn’t as if he didn’t spend most of his nights hopping across rooftops and beating annoying little birds out of his territory.
He tensed, preparing to flip over the fence (Dick had taught him that move and thinking about those lessons hurt something vulnerable in a part of him he had desperately tried to destroy), but stopped when a small movement caught his eyes.
He froze, water dripping from his clothes, and looked down.
At the smallest, most pathetic-looking cat that he had ever seen in his life.
The thing seemed to be caught in a hole in the chain-link fence with broken steel digging into its shoulders. It must have tried to squeeze through the hole, only to end up stuck in jagged metal. The cat shuddered and weakly tried to crawl forward, only to stop with a groan of pain.
It became suddenly clear that wouldn’t be able to pull itself free without ripping open the skin over its shoulder blades.
Jason stared and over him, the rain grew harder, its wetness and cold slicing into his skin.
The cat (maybe it was a kitten? It seemed impossibly small.) trembled as its fur steadily went from damp to soaking wet. The water that dripped off its coat had a red tint to it.
Something that sounded very much like the Pit urged him to leave it.
It was its own dumb fault if it got stuck in a fence. Jason was freezing, his apartment was so close, and helping the cat would mean getting wetter and colder.
He didn’t owe the cat anything.
He grunted moving around the trembling, stuck animal to judge how he could vault the fence.
But before he touched the chain link, another thought stopped him in his tracks.
The kitten would freeze out here.
If it didn’t free itself… if it was still trapped when Gotham’s temperature dipped that night and had soaking wet fur… it would die.
Hell, even if it did free itself, it would still be wet and bleeding. The cold could still kill it.
He looked back down to the cat and his mind brought up memories of stiff little bodies. They had all been young and helpless. They all had just needed someone to stop and care.
“Fuck,” he grumbled, stepping away from the fence to focus on the drenched rat.
The kitten was so much smaller up close and almost completely back with a puff of white fur on its chest and its front paws. It looked up as Jason approached, and Jason thought he saw abject misery in those huge blue eyes.
Blue eyes that seemed to widen into what he would almost call surprise as Jason bent down.
The kitten tried to scramble back, its paws pumping and only driving metal teeth further into its fur. It hissed in pain but kept struggling through the iron puncturing its shoulders. Its small chest worked frantically, as it tried to flee and only ended up hurting itself more.
“Stop, you idiot,” Jason rumbled, reaching forward to stop the animal from pushing itself into jagged metal. “I’m just going to help you get free.”
The cat made a pitiful whining sound as Jason touch its fur and gently tugged the fence away from it. He could feel its rapid heartbeat in the palm of his hand and the wet warmth of blood on his fingers. Just as he suspected, the iron had caught into the cat’s fur and the skin there was torn open, ragged, and bloody.
“You’ve got yourself in quite a mess,” Jason murmured as he detangled the kitten. He would have to clean the cat’s wounds out, but thankfully they didn’t seem as bad as they looked at first glance. “You probably would have died out here if I didn’t see you.”
Finally, he got the cat free and Jason was able to heft it into his arms. It shivered and instantly ducked towards his chest to huddle closer to another warm body.
“You can’t be dumb while you’re out here,” Jason said as if the cat was just a kid with zero self-preservation instincts. He couldn’t help stroking down the small cat’s head and trying to rub some more warmth into its body. “This city could kill ya’.”
And, if Jason put the cat down to leave it here, the winter probably would. The poor thing was sopping wet and Jason hated how easily he could feel its skeleton. He didn’t know much about cats, but he didn’t think they were supposed to be this thin or tremble so much.
The temperature was already dropping and the rain was pounding into Jason’s back.
His own words echoed in his head.
This city could kill ya’.
There were too many times when it had almost taken him.
It probably would have if someone hadn’t taken the time to care about the starving thief he had caught stealing his tires.
The memory brought a small smile to Jason’s face.
All he had needed was someone to stop and care.
“Alright, here’s the deal. Because you’ve proven to me what a tiny moron you are, I’m going to take you home and get you something to eat,” he said, shifting the cat in his arms so he could stare at it face-to-face like they were brokering a business deal. “In exchange, you’re not going to claw me or bite me. If you do, I’m going to punt you like a furry football and you’ll end up right back here on the streets.”
The small cat couldn’t understand him, but he could have almost sworn that it widened its eyes.
“I will,” Jason warned, just because he was on a dramatic kick and he hadn’t had a captive audience to monologue to in a while. Plus, if he had taken all this time and gotten chilled to the bone to save this animal, the least it could do was listen to him complain about it. “If one single claw goes into this leather jacket, I’ll let you freeze to death. See if I care.”
He affectionately stroked between the kitten’s ears, feeling his heart fill with protectiveness over this helpless animal. The cat was still in his arms, just staring at him with impossibly blue eyes. It was still shivering and its heart beat in its chest like a bird in a cage.
“I mean it. I don’t care if stupid little cats get themselves killed.”
His tone was going all soft and tender and the smile came back to his lips.
All it took was one helpless animal and suddenly he was a bleeding heart apparently. If anyone asked how that happened, he would blame Dick.
“Now, let’s get you home.”
*****
He hadn’t realised it at first but he brought home one of the strangest cats to ever cat.
It never meowed. It was clumsy and kept overbalancing on its four paws as if it hadn’t been born with them. It didn’t play with cat toys and always seemed sad for some reason. Its favourite activity was staring out the window. Not looking at birds or anything. Just staring into the dark maw of Gotham city and its jagged skyscraper teeth.
Jason hung his leather jacket on the coat hook by the door and looked into his apartment. The cat was sitting primly on his window, tail curled tight into his body.
“Hello, William Shakespurr,” he called into the apartment, not expecting a meow back. The cat did pad towards him, silently sitting and watching as he stripped off his gun holsters and hidden weapons. “Did you have an efficient day today? Spend your time bringing down world economies and running the largest business in Gotham City?”
The cat’s head ducked down and Jason bent to pat his head before collapsing on the couch. He turned on the television and let out a sigh as his body relaxed. His muscles all loosened and he sunk into the well-worn cushion.
He only had to wait a moment before the cat came over. It hesitated on the floor, eyes jumping between Jason and the open couch seat like it wasn’t sure that it was allowed.
“Come on up, Bill,” Jason murmured, patting the seat. “I won’t hurt ya’.”
Slowly, as if the cat didn’t completely believe him, he jumped on the couch, slightly stumbling over his paws, until he sat next to Jason in a little loaf. Jason hummed and set a hand on the cat’s head, gently scratching behind his ears.
He had tried to telegraph his movements, but the small cat still startled at the touch, flinching ever so slightly. He remained tense for about five seconds before he melted, leaning into the touch and chasing Jason’s hand.
The cat seemed to love being pet and getting affection but never initiated interaction. Jason’s theory was that the cat used to be someone’s pet and maybe they hadn’t been the nicest of owners. Maybe they had hit the cat when he had leaned into a hand. Maybe they had brushed him off so many times, he just gave up asking. Maybe they had gotten fed up with him and dumped him onto the streets.
Jason’s blood boiled at the thought and his heart clenched in his chest.
“What happened to you?” he whispered down to the black furry loaf.
The cat froze under his hand.
“What were you doing before I found you caught in that fence?”
The cat suddenly stood and, in a rare show of boldness, balanced on its back paws. It put its front paws up on Jason’s chest and stared deep into his eyes.
There was something there. An oldness to those eyes that Jason recognised from when he looked in the mirror.
He stroked the cat’s head.
“If you wanted more pets, you could have just asked like a normal cat.”
For some reason, the cat almost seemed disappointed.
There was a knock on his window.
A familiar knock.
“Oh hell no,” he mumbled, glaring in the direction of the kitchen window. William Shakespurr was sleeping in a messy sprawl next to him, half in and half out of his lap. Damn cat had been drooling into his leg, but Jason hadn’t had the heart to move him.
Unfortunately, annoying birds needed to be dealt with.
He tried to move the cat with surgical delicacy but the kitten still murmured in discontent.
“Shhh, it’s okay, fluffbucket,” Jason hushed, carding through the cat’s fur. “I’ll be back in a second.”
After a couple of moments of petting, the cat seemed to settle back into sleep. He smiled down at the trusting little animal, both picking up the gun on his side table and stomping to the window.
Sure enough, a blue and black figure was crouching on his fire escape and waving stupidly. Jason glared at his brother, and then purposefully closed the blinds in his face.
“Aww, come on, Jay. It’s important.”
“I don’t care if the world is burning down. How many times have I told you that I would shoot you full of holes the next time you perched on my window.”
“Only about a thousand times and yet I don’t have a thousand holes in me. Jason, could you please open the window? It’s freezing out here.”
Jason was already moving, his teeth grinding together as he pulled back the binds and saw his brother’s stupid face. He hardly thought before he was starting to undo the window latches.
“I swear, Dick, one of these days I am going to shoot you. I’ll let you bleed to death in the streets and dance on your corpse.”
“Sure you will,” Dick said, slipping through the window opening like a snake.
Jason crossed his arms and glared at the man. “What do you want?”
“We have a situ– you got a cat?” He abruptly changed the subject and stared at the blue food and water bowls.
Jason crossed his arms, feeling suddenly defensive though he couldn’t figure out why. “Yeah… you got a problem with that?”
“No, no,” his brother said, waving his hands to mollify Jason. His stupid blue finger stripes waved with his hands. “I think it’s good! Pets are good for… ya’ know, keeping people company.”
He padded through the kitchen, a confident swagger to his stride like he owned the place. “What’s her name? Can I see her?”
Jason was silent, glaring at Dick as he poked his head into corners. Jason’s corners. In Jason’s apartment. The apartment that Jason owned. “Didn’t you have something important to tell me?”
“Oh, suddenly you want to listen to me?”
“I want your Gotham-sized ass out of my apartment.”
Dick rolled his eyes, still looking for a cat. “Come on, just show me your cat. I’m excited for you, Little Wing. This is like… an important life step.”
“Oh my god, will showing you the cat get you out?”
Dick smiled and there was something smug in it that rubbed Jason the wrong way.
“Sure.”
Jason didn’t believe it for a second.
Dick was truly a dick.
“Fine,” Jason growled, stomping his way into the living where the cat had been napping on the couch. The TV was still blaring and its ears didn’t even twitch as they walked in.
“Oh my god, she’s adorable!” Dick gushed, darting into the room and towards the cat. The cat’s head whipped up, turning so fast that Jason thought his neck might snap. It stared up at Dick as the vigilante closed in, something unreadable on his cat face.
Dick reached forward to pick William Shakespurr up, and Jason twitched. “Wait, Dick, he doesn’t like being…”
The words fell dead in his throat as he stared at his cat. His purring cat. The one that had never purred once for him.
“Oh, she’s so cute!” Dick said, cuddling the cat like it was a baby. The cat was limp in his arms, just staring up in wonder at the vigilante. “What did you say her name was?”
“His,” Jason corrected before he could really think about what he was saying. “He’s a boy.”
“A handsome boy,” Dick said in a babyish voice, playing with Bill’s pink paw pads. “What did mean old Jason name ya? Probably something all bad-boy like Brutus or Axel.”
Jason didn’t say anything, and Dick’s smile had a bit more teeth. “I know that look, Little Wing. What did you name him?”
Jason gritted his teeth and then, while looking at the cat and not his older brother, he said “William Shakespurr.”
There was a beat of silence before Dick started snickering.
“I had forgotten you were such a nerd.”
“Oh shut up, Mr. Bat-mobile, Bat-computer, Bat-knife, Bat-tery.”
“Hey, those were perfectly good and descriptive names.”
“Whatever,” Jason grunted, rolling his eyes. “So you’ve met Bill, will you please just tell me your bit and leave?”
“Fine, fine,” Dick sighed, putting the cat on the ground. Jason kept a keen eye on Bill as he very uncharacteristically pawed at Dick’s feet and meowed for attention.
“It’s about Tim.”
The cat perked. Jason felt anger bubble up inside him.
“What about the Replacement,” he spat, and Dick didn’t flinch… but the cat did.
“We… I know this sounds ridiculous, but… we think he’s been turned into a dog… or a cat I guess… the wizard only said something about a ‘pet’.”
Jason blinked and kept his face as still as stone. “Your little baby bird got turned into a dog?”
Dick shrugged. “You can hardly say it’s the weirdest thing to happen to us. Just… keep an eye out, will you? For a dog that answers to Tim.”
“Sure. Now get out,” Jason growled, putting just a bit more edge into his voice. Dick must have caught it because his eyes narrowed ever so slightly and it was Nightwing standing before him instead of Dick Grayson.
“Alright, Hood, I’m going,” he said, the little bounce to his voice was absent.
He started to turn back to the window and then almost tripped over the cat that was aggressively rubbing against his legs.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Good-bye to you too, Mr. Shakespeare.” He patted the cat’s head, ruffling his ears. “Be good and keep my little brother company, okay? He may look tough, but he’s a softie underneath that leather jacket.”
Jason didn’t let it show on his face, but his heart clenched uncomfortably. He hadn’t thought that Dick still considered him a little brother, let alone would say it so casually. After all, why would he want to be brothers with the guy that had become a Gotham warlord?
The cat meowed pitifully as Nightwing climbed back through the window, and disappeared into the night air.
It almost sounded like crying.
Jason didn’t test his theory immediately when Dick left. He waited.
He waited, and he watched.
The cat could be Tim. He guessed if he imagined the kid as a cat, it would look like William Shakespurr. Tim being a cat seemed a lot more fitting than him being a dog.
Which… Jason didn’t know how he felt about his cat being his kinda little brother. He was definitely less murderous towards the kid than he had been previously, and even had helped his skinny, no self-preservation-at-all ass out of some tough spots. He quipped almost as well as Nightwing, and Jason had found himself having a teensy amount of affection to the kid.
Not a lot and still buried under a mountain of burning hatred.
But sometimes the kid would look at him with all that hero worship shining in his eyes, and Jason would… he would feel his heart go a little bit melty.
Jason would still push him off a building of course, but he would at least make sure Tim’s grapple was set.
Jason watched as the maybe Tim-cat tried to judge a jump and leaped onto the table. He didn’t land quite correctly and flopped.
At least the cat’s inability to cat made a lot more sense now.
His unsteadiness on his paws. His keen eyes that always watched the television with Jason. His refusal to eat cat food or use the litter box that Jason so gratefully provided.
He watched as his cat (though maybe not entirely a cat) struggled through trying to lick himself. The cat didn’t do it with ease and seemed to be thinking hard through each movement. He could almost see those wheels turning, a human mind trying to mimic an animal behaviour he wasn’t born into having.
He stared, and his theory solidified.
It was now or never, while the kid was distracted.
“Tim,” he said, quick and demanding.
The cat’s head jolted up before he could stop it and he froze. Jason could see the surprise flickering through him, and he grinned with all his teeth.
“Cat got your tongue, Timmy?” he said, his voice going dark and the flare of the Pit rising through his throat.
Tim blinked once, surprise passing into horror before he scrambled off the counter. Jason’s hand darted out and he just missed the cat as he ran away. Tim landed gracelessly on the floor, crashing onto his chest, before finding his footing.
He took off before Jason could scoop him up, dashing towards the living room.
“Awww, why are you running, Tim?” He taunted, his voice echoing through the dim apartment. The kid’s black fur blended into the shadows, but unluckily for him, the apartment wasn’t that big. The bedroom door was closed and the kid wasn’t stupid enough to pigeon-hole himself into the bathroom.
Jason stalked forward, letting each step echo.
It was nostalgic, and the Pit licked its teeth.
“Running didn’t work for you so well the first time.”
Jason ducked his head into the small places he had seen the cat curl up. Not behind the TV stand. Not under the loveseat. Not…
Bingo.
Jason stared at the space between the couch and the wall. It was small, but Tim made for a pretty small cat.
“Oh Timmy,” he sang, his voice forced into lightness. “If you wanted a Titans Tower repeat, you just had to—” he put his hands on the couch, his fingers curled around its back panel. “—ask.”
He ripped the couch away from the wall with a screech. It toppled over with a thump, and left a small, trembling cat, helplessly exposed.
“Gotcha.”
Jason’s hand whipped out before Tim could run and grabbed the cat by the scruff lifting him into the air. The cat whined in his grasp and weakly kicked his legs, trying to twist out of Jason’s grip.
But they both knew. Jason had him.
“Hello Timothy,” Jason hummed with a smirk. “You seem to have gotten yourself into quite the fuzzy situation.” He glared into the cat’s face, taking in all the fear behind those wide blue eyes. “Now, what do I do with you?”
What did he do with Tim, the vigilante turned cat? The literal captive audience dangled from his hands.
“Should I keep you as a pet?” Jason mused, forcing the cat into his arms. Tim trembled in his hold, the kid shaking so much Jason was surprised he didn’t hear his teeth rattle. It was an asshole move to taunt Tim when he couldn’t physically get a word in, but Jason had never finished his monologue in the Titan’s Tower and some part of him still wanted to have his big villain moment. “A little trophy to remind me just how far vigilantes can fall? You are a good cat. Probably a better pet than a superhero, especially considering how royally fucked you got yourself this time.”
Tim flinched in his arms and what Jason would give to hear the thoughts going through his head.
“Or maybe put you in an animal shelter? That’s the place where mangy little strays go. They will get you set up with a nice cage, put a chip under your skin, and place you with a family that won’t even know there’s a human mind bopping around in that head.”
Jason petted Tim and was reminded of how bony the kid was.
“How does that sound? Being a house pet? There are thousands of black cats in Gotham. B will never find you. They will probably forget about you and replace you with a different Robin as soon as…”
Jason’s monologue fell apart when he felt Tim’s entire body twitch in his arms. His breath was uneven. His tiny chest was moving too fast but didn’t seem to be sucking in the air. The kid was seizing.
Jason could feel Tim’s heart thumping a frantic rhythm into his skin and the anger start to fall away as the small cat whimpered.
Fuck, he had meant to scare the kid, not drive him into a panic attack.
“Hey, Tim, kid,” he grunted, petting the cat and utterly lost on what to do. “Kid? Calm down. Breathe.”
The kid’s breath didn’t even out it just got more stuttery. Cats couldn’t cry. They didn’t have the tear ducts for it, but… Tim seemed to be able to cry even without the tears.
And something in Jason just couldn’t stay mad when the baby bird looked like a friggin’ stuffed animal and was having a panic attack in his arms.
“Shhhh… it’s okay Timmy,” he murmured, awkwardly patting the kid’s back and shifting him so he was leaned upon Jason’s shoulder like a baby.
“You’re alright.”
Tim’s little breath was still hitching, but it seemed a little deeper. Jason could feel the kid’s tiny, wet nose pressed into his collarbone.
He stood there, in the middle of his apartment, holding the cat that was kinda his little brother. The kid was still quaking like a leaf, but this time when Jason felt it, it didn’t feel like a victory.
“You’re fine. You’re okay. Nothing’s going to happen, Robin,” Jason promised, surprising himself by actually meaning it. The cat’s ear twitched at the name.
He moved to the couch he had tipped over and righted it with one hand while still murmuring comforts into Tim’s ear.
He laid down on it, Tim balanced on his chest, while still stroking the cat.
He kept comforting and reassuring the kid until eventually both of them fell asleep.
Jason woke up with a weight that was much heavier than a cat on his chest.
He blinked, morning light momentarily blinding him before he could squint back into waking. The weight on his chest was still there, breathing against him. The mop of black hair looked a lot like black fur and it drew a chuckle out of Jason.
He petted the kid out of pure habit and Tim instinctively leaned into the touch. Shakespeare always had loved being pet… it seemed that was a Tim thing and not a cat thing.
He even tilted his head, silently guiding Jason’s fingers into his favourite spot. Jason chuckled again, stretching at the kid’s scalp.
“Hey, kid, wake up.”
Tim grumbled and flexed his fingers, just like he had flexed his claws.
And something about the motion must have tipped him off because he suddenly went tense.
Jason didn’t stop stroking his hair.
“Yeah, Timber, you’re back. You got your opposable thumbs and everything.”
Tim jolted, sitting up so fast that Jason was surprised he didn’t brain himself on the edge of the couch. He gasped, and stared at his hands, flexing his fingers in wonder.
“They’re… they’re…”
Jason yawned, and slowly rose from the couch. The kid was staring at his feet as Jason stood up.
“I’m human again,” he whispered, a smile slowly coming back to his face.
“Yep,” said Jason, popping the ‘P’. “You’re still a shrimp though. All that magic mumbo-jumbo didn’t help with that.”
Tim jolted, suddenly realising where he was and who he was with. He tensed, curling into a ball with one of the blankets wrapped around him. He was still in his Robin costume, though his domino was mysteriously missing.
“What are you going to do with me?” he asked, just a little bit of fear thrumming under it.
Jason casually began walking to the kitchen, knowing that the curious kitten would follow. “Feed ya’, then probably call Big Bird to pick you up. You’re too skinny.”
“I’m… what?” Sure enough, Jason heard Tim begin to follow, blanket around his shoulders and fanning around him like a too-long cape.
“Skinny. Bony. Even as a cat you were skeletal.”
He could feel Tim’s stare as he began to pull out eggs from the fridge.
“But last night… last night you threatened me…”
Jason hummed, cracking the eggs into a bowl. He didn’t let any bit of his face show the tiny dagger of guilt that had slipped between his ribs.
“I never got to finish my speech in the Titan’s Tower, Replacement. It only seemed fitting to do it when I had a captive audience.”
Tim was silent and Jason whisked his eggs.
“You dick,” Tim hissed, angrily shoving himself into one of Jason’s barstools. “I can’t believe you.”
Jason could feel his glare and he didn’t hold back his snicker.
“Why didn’t you just say ‘oh Tim, I figured it out’ like a normal person?”
Jason finished his eggs and shoved some on a plate.
“Because I am an asshole,” he said while putting the plate in front of Tim. “And I put a lot of work into my villain laugh, a villain laugh I didn’t get to use because you so rudely interrupted my Titans Tower performance.”
“You wore a dollar-store Robin costume under a t-shirt and jeans,” Tim snapped back, angrily eating his eggs. Jason could imagine a pair of cat ears flipping back in anger. “How was I not supposed to burst out laughing?”
“Ungrateful twerp,” Jason scoffed, ruffling Tim’s hair. “Just remember that when you get yourself cursed again, then we will see who’s laughing.”
The kid just rolled his eyes and kept mowing through his plate of eggs.
“You know it’s really hard to feel threatened by a guy who named me William Shakespurr. ”
“It’s a wonderful fucking name and you know it.”