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Jason didn’t like birds. There were exceptions, obviously, but when it came down to it, unless said bird was a vigilante or a swan (he respected swans, they didn’t forget a bitch and could be nastier than a goose if provoked), he avoided them at all costs.
Unfortunately, the Falcone’s didn’t give a shit about his personal preferences and had decided to take up bird trafficking.
Because of fucking course.
He’d tried wholeheartedly to pawn the case off on literally anyone else, but they had all declined. Even Damian who could always (apparently only) occasionally be counted on to handle all animal related matters had left him to fend for himself in a move so twisted and cruel that Jason would’ve been impressed if he hadn’t been the person fucked over.
The last three weeks of his life had been spent in increasing states of unmitigated pain, interrupted only by the sweet oblivion of sleep and Alfred’s cooking.
A yellow bird (Jason refused to learn their breeds as a matter of principle) had shit on his hood yesterday, a shit that was not even remotely proportional to the small size of the bird. Jason had actually worried for a moment that the bird had crapped out its internal organs before he came back to himself and remembered he didn’t give a fuck.
His life was nothing but suffering at the moment but Jason could see the light at the end of the tunnel and that light’s name was Tim.
Tim, the only member of his family that hadn’t fucking betrayed him like the little bitches they were. Kind Tim. Loyal Tim. Totally not a fucking piece of shit Tim.
Landing on top of a gargoyle, he inhaled deeply. The smog that was what passed for air in Gotham burned his lungs but he didn’t give a shit.
If he played his cards right, Tim would take over the case completely. Jason had never been so glad he’d failed to kill someone in his life.
Grinning like a fool, Jason continued on his way to Tim’s nest. Life was excellent.
“Red Hood?” Tim’s voice crackled through Jason’s earpiece. The one in his hood had broken (because of the size of that bird’s shit, not because he’d been headbutted by Killer Croc) and he was currently reliant on one pilfered from the Clocktower.
“Go for the baddest bitch in the land.”
There was only static. Jason knew his favorite brother was taking a moment to truly appreciate the words that had just left his mouth and so remained quiet.
“We can’t meet at the Nest tonight.”
Jason saw the light at the end of his tunnel begin to darken.
“I have a safe house in the area if you don’t-”
“Tonight’s just not good for me.”
Jason tried again.
“If you’re injured-”
“Nope, totally fine.”
“So you’re canceling on me for no good reason?”
“There’s a reason!” Jason could imagine the annoyed look on Tim’s face and basked in it.
“So spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill.”
Jason doubted that.
“I doubt that.”
“Doubt all you want, but I can’t help tonight.”
The line went dead and Jason’s tunnel turned pitch black.
-
There was a water stain in the shape of a bird on his ceiling. When he had chosen the safe house, Jason had regarded it as a sign. Now, he was still regarding it as a sign, but in a completely different way.
Tim had abandoned him to a fate worse than death, a fate so cruel that he could barely comprehend it. The shithead had sworn that he was over Jason trying to kill him, but now Jason was in doubt.
He pulled out his phone and glared at the texts he’d sent to Tim. The still unread texts. Tim didn’t have a life, so what was he so busy doing that he was ignoring Jason?
Jason looked at the bird of betrayal on his ceiling and continued to wallow.
-
As he walked towards the diner where he was supposed to meet Tim, Jason felt hope in the air. It was a new day. A new day and a new tunnel and a new chance for Jason to be freed from the shackles that bound him to the case from hell.
He wanted to whistle, but he felt that that would be overdramatic, even for him.
Eh, fuck it.
He continued to whistle as he threw himself down in a booth and ordered a milkshake. Days like this deserved to be celebrated.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Jason turned to see the beautiful, perfect visage of his favorite brother.
“Tim!”
He had to resist the urge to hug him. Tim must’ve sensed it because he stepped away quickly.
“Who are you and what have you done to my brother?”
Jason was almost offended.
“I am your brother, dipshit.”
“Prove it.”
Jason sized him up. Tim’s shoulder length hair was held up with a red scrunchie, he had small bruises all over his neck, and his Smallville High School Athletics Department sweater was so bit it was almost hanging off his shoulder.
“You look like you’ve just had sex with someone young and naïve enough to still think hickies aren’t dumb.”
Tim blinked and Jason pounced.
“You have! You little slut!”
Everyone on the street turned to look at them and Jason decided to mitigate any and all concerns.
“He’s my little brother, I’m allowed to say that.”
While no one looked like they agreed, they all chose to return to what they were doing. Jason appreciated it.
He turned back to Tim.
“Spill.”
Tim looked like he wanted to run. In that moment, Jason made a decision. He looked at that escape tunnel and he brought it crashing down, trapping him forever in the hell that was bird trafficking.
“Are you serious?”
“As a crowbar.”
“Yes, alright? I’ve been having sex.”
“And yet you still have that stick up your ass.”
Tim had the audacity to look offended.
“Who is it?”
“I’m not going to tell you, asshole!”
Jason felt that that was a little harsh.
“Why not?”
“Because you just slut shamed me.”
The waitress delivered Jason’s milkshake just in time to hear that. She glared at Jason, a move Jason would normally feel was warranted. Except in this scenario.
“He’s my brother!”
She merely glared as she walked away.
“And I didn’t slut shame you, I just called you a slut.”
“There’s a difference?”
When Jason opened his mouth to answer, Tim just tiredly raised his hand. He decided to have mercy and offered Tim a spoonful of the shake in apology.
He accepted gracefully.
“I thought you wanted to work on that bird trafficking case.”
“This is more important.”
“Really?”
Jason was a visual learner and decided to play to his strengths. Holding one hand a few inches above the table, he grinned at Tim.
“Birds.”
Then, he raised his other hand as high as possible.
“Your sex life.”
Tim looked tired and Jason knew he had him on the ropes, “Of course, I know I can just ask Steph-”
From the look on Tim’s face, Jason knew he had won.
“Fine. It’s-”
Jason’s phone interrupted him with the first few bars of About Damn Time. He declined the call and turned back to Tim.
“Was that Lizzo?”
“Was that judgment in your voice?”
Before Tim could respond, the phone rang again.
“Babe, this is not-”
From across the table, Tim could hear Barbara’s response.
“Jason Todd, if you ever call me babe again, not only will I make your search history public but I’ll print a copy of it, bind it into a book, and give it to Alfred.”
Tim was impressed. To layer on the pain for the asshole sitting across from him, he took another spoonful of shake.
“That’s cold blooded, Barbie.”
“You declined my call, Todd, I’m not in the mood.”
Tim just pulled the whole shake to himself and dug in.
“What’s going on?”
“Half of Arkham is out. Bring Tim and get to the cave ASAP.”
“Why didn’t you call him?”
Barbara gave that question the answer it deserved by hanging up on him. Tim approved wholeheartedly.
-
It wasn’t for another week until Jason had a spare minute to interrogate Tim. This time, he had a plan, a foolproof, perfect, impossible-to-go-wrong plan.
Bounding up the stairs, he let himself into Tim’s apartment. Grabbing a beer from the six pack he had hidden in the fridge, he walked into the living room only to drop the bottle at the sight before him.
It wasn’t until it crashed to the ground that the two guys fucking on the couch realized they weren’t alone.
Connor Fucking Kent let out a sound that could only be called a bleat as he fell off the couch. Tim, on the other hand, was far more vocal.
“JASON!”
“Me!”
Jason grinned at the sight before him. The knowledge of the blackmail material he would have almost brought tears of joy to his eyes.
“Jason, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I had planned to torture you into telling me who your fuck buddy was. But this…”
With as much dignity as he could muster, Tim sat up and grabbed a pillow to cover his lap.
“Well, now you know.”
“I do indeed.”
“So you can leave.”
Jason did, cackling all the while.
-
That night, Jason was staking out the Den of Hell (his name for the place the Falcone’s stored their fucking birds in) when someone landed on the gravel behind him.
“I got an eyeful of your boyfriend and I genuinely have no idea how you’re still walking.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
Tim sat down next to him and both stared at the Den of Hell in silence for several minutes. When he did speak, his voice was soft and if Jason didn’t know better he say he almost sounded scared.
“Are you going to tell B?”
Jason turned to look at his brother. Really, really look at him. Holy, shit he actually was scared.
For the first time in a really long time, Jason felt an emotion that could maybe be considered shame.
“Of course not.”
Jason tried not to feel even more shame (look, at least he was admitting it, okay?) at the look of shock on Tim’s face.
“I’m an asshole but not a piece of shit.”
“Thanks.”
They were silent a moment more before–
“Why don’t you want B to know?”
“How many reasons do you need?”
“None.” Jason hated having to act responsible but he felt that it was his big brotherly duty to do so in this one moment.
“He won’t care. Well,” Jason corrected himself, “He’ll care but not in a negative way. You’re his kid.”
“So are you.”
“And when I came out as bi, he patted me on the shoulder, told me he loved me, and gave me a thirty-nine page slideshow on gay sex.”
Tim choked on his own spit.
“I know what you’re imagining and I can assure you, it was so much worse.”
It was silent again.
“I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“It’s not the gay thing, it’s the whole alien thing.”
Jason nodded understandingly before sharing his trump card.
“B’s got no room to judge.”
He knew Tim was running through the list of female aliens in his mind and decided to put him out of his misery.
“Back before they were BFF’s, he and Supes had a whole hate fucking thing.”
Jason turned to enjoy the look on Tim’s face.
“What? How? What?”
“Dick told me. Apparently he caught Superman leaving B’s bedroom one morning and put two and two together.”
“That’s…”
“Almost incestuous if you think about it.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“So, so many things.”
They both turned to the Den of Hell. Falcone’s men entered the building and Jason reached for his guns.
“Do you want to kick some ass or do you want to keep talking about our feelings like the emotionally constipated men we were not raised to be?”
“Definitely the ass.”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
Tim felt he was the bigger person when he only hit Jason over the head once.