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Tim stood in the kitchen whipping what was supposed to be icing, he thought. Jason had left him with a bowl and a whisk, deeming him too incompetent in the kitchen to be left alone with anything else quite yet, which, fair, he guessed.
Jason had kept true to his promise, he hadn't forced him to stop being Robin. He was trying to discourage him while he wasn't supposed to be out, but Tim had lived through Bruce's mood swings. Jason had mostly tried to talk him out if it, and a less stubborn person would've likely been convinced to hang up the cape, but not Tim. He'd worked too hard to get where he was.
"Is this good?" Tim asked, showing Jason the bowl.
"Nope," Jason said, diverting his attention from the vegetables on the stove. "Keep going."
"Don't you have electric whisks or something?"
"Of course, but you have to learn to do it this way first."
Tim groaned. Whipping icing was a deceptively exhausting activity.
It wasn't long before Jason began plating the food, telling Tim to put his bowl in the fridge.
"So, where's the best place to break into your house to get your stuff?" Jason asked.
Tim raised an eyebrow. "My bedroom, why?"
"Cause you need your shit, and seeing as the idiots," He said referring to the bats, but mostly Bruce, "Haven't heard from you in at least forty something hours. I'm not convinced they won't break down my door if you don't reply to their text messages."
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. They'll just assume I'm busy with my parents, or Mrs. Mac."
"Right..."
~*~
Jason and Tim were perched on the limb of a tree outside Tim's bedroom window. They had checked the perimeter, and the Drakes were either out or fast asleep. The fact they could so easily go on with their lives after what they had done sickened Jason. He couldn't believe he'd let Talia tell him the new Robin was some perfect little spoiled brat. A brat yes, but to be entirely fair, that was a common trait teenagers tended to share.
The Lazarus Pit had made him far easier to manipulate, and he'd be looking further into everything the League of Assassins had told him.
"Where's your parent's bedroom from yours?"
"The end of the room to the left."
"Gotcha."
Tim pried open the window. There didn't seem to be a single shred of security on the place. Tim had been left alone in that place for God knew how many years. It was a miracle no one had ever broken in and killed him.
Tim pulled out a duffle bag from his closet and begin shoving clothes in. He looked to Jason. "Can you check the setting room to see if my phone's still there? It's down the stairs, not far from the front door."
"Sure." Jason walked out the door, purposely sticking his head into the Drake's room to check for signs of life. There were two forms in the bed. He quietly shut the door back, heading to the living room.
Tim's phone laid cracked in a corner. It seemed to still work though, so Tim could at least quell any worries, if there were any that is. Tim seemed very convinced Bruce didn't care about him, and Jason couldn't tell if that was true, or just a byproduct of his low self esteem. Regardless, Bruce would be chewed out for letting the kid be Robin and letting him think he was worthless at the same time.
He stepped back into Tim's room to see him pulling up the floor boards.
"What are you doing?"
Tim held up a box. "My pictures. I doubt they would've been found, but it's too dangerous to leave them."
Jason frowned. What would he have that could pose a threat. Anything to do with cases would be left in the Batcave or on a secure server only someone with the right knowledge could assess. "What kind of pictures?"
"Mostly of you while you were Robin, but there are of a few of Dick in his Robin days too."
Jason decided not to question it. It wasn't worth the headache to figure out where they had come from at that particular moment. "I'll let you show me them when we get back."
Tim looked surprised. "You'd actually want to look at them?"
"Sure. Now you get a head start towards my motorcycle," He said, handing him his phone.
Tim looked at him.
"I'm doing one last perimeter check. I'll be right behind you, now go." Jason watched as he climbed out the window before turning back towards Jack and Janet Drake's room.
He proceeded to literally kick both out of the bed, standing over them with the most menacing posture he could. The one reserved for true monsters, such as the ones frozen in front of him.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Jack and Janet Drake. I can tell you haven't been around lately, I take child abuse very seriously."
"Who the hell are you!" Jack tried to growl, but in comparison to what Jason had grown used to, sounded more like a whimper.
"Red Hood."
"I can't say I've heard of you."
"Shame," Jason said, tossing a pistol up and catching it. "If you had, you would know what happens to the people I find out hurt children"
"Is this about Timothy?" Janet scoffed. "Let me guess you're merely putting on a show. You can't be too tough to be housing a f—"
Jason fired a bullet an inch from her head. "Whoops, Finger slipped."
Both Drakes paled considerably, and decided to keep their mouths shut. "Now, I don't think Tim would want you dead, unfortunately, but that doesn't mean I have to respect his wishes. Understand?"
"What do you want?" Jack asked. "I can give you money."
Jason put a finger to the chin of his helmet. "What do I want? Well, I'd like for you both to be truly sorry about what you did to my little brother, but that won't happen, now will it? I guess I'll have to settle for you leaving Gotham as soon as you can and staying the hell away. If you ever try to hurt Tim again, I'll know, and I won't be so forgiving next time."
~*~
Jason looked at a picture of him and Bruce leaping between buildings, both with smiles stretched across their faces. "So you took these?" He asked.
Tim just nodded, mouth full of cake.
"I don't think news outlets have ever got pictures this clear, even if one of us were working with the Justice League, or Titans."
"Thanks," Tim said with a grin.
It bothered Jason that Tim had been able to take the pictures at all. At his oldest, he still would've been only about twelve. As they ate the cake Tim had helped with and went through the pictures, Jason couldn't help but think he'd let the Drakes off far too easily. Even if they hadn't been there, Tim should've at least had a nanny to make sure he wasn't gallivanting around Gotham by himself. If no one else would keep Tim safe, at least he had Jason in his corner.