Chapter Text
Dick’s first winter at the Manor is… an experience. The morning of the first snow day, Jason wakes up to the kid apparently trying to tug his arm off entirely (judging from the amount of energy he puts into it). “Jay. Wake up! Come onnnnn, Jay.”
“Oh my god just shut up,” he groans and tries to hide under his pillow. Dick still manages to drag him out of bed and downstairs, where they are intercepted by Alfred, who insists that they actually get dressed and have some breakfast before going outside. Jason could almost be grateful to the man if he didn’t also suggest Jason take the kid to a park. Like he didn't have anything else to do today.
Parks in Gotham are usually a pretty dicey affair, but the one closest to Wayne Manor benefits from a higher tax bracket and some generous donations by a certain resident billionaire. Jason finds a bench that’s dry-ish to sit down and fiddle with his phone while Dick burns off some energy. When he looks up to check on whether the kid’s turned into a Dickcicle yet, he curses himself for giving Dick as much leeway as he did, because Dick is currently beaming at him from behind his snow cover and packing together some ammunition.
Jason narrows his eyes. “Don’t you dare throw that snowba– goddammit!” Instead of the frontal attack he was expecting, something hits him on the neck from behind, icy and awful as it slides its way down.
“Should’ve been watching your back, Little Wing.”
Dick immediately abandons his strategic cover and throws himself at their older brother with a gleeful and way-too-loud cry of TIM!! Tim looks down at him with an indulgent smile and ruffles his hair. (Jason should probably figure out what happened to the kid’s hat at some point. Dick was definitely wearing one when they left the house.) “Hey, Circus Baby.”
It’s kind of weird, seeing Tim out in public like this, no costumes or whatever. If Jason squints, he can spot the edges of the Joker smile visible through the concealer on his face, but at a passing glance, he's just like any other nineteen-year-old jerk of an older brother lording it over his younger siblings. It makes him kinda wonder if this is what Tim would've looked like if he'd never died. “Well?" Tim says, dragging Jason out of his thoughts. "I fired the first shot. Are you going to just surrender without a fight?”
Jason rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop the grin that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, hell no.”