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Jason stared at his paws. He had paws.
He'd jumped into an alley to stop a mugging when some weirdo wielding a wooden twig stepped out of the shadows.
Before Jason could even point his gun at the fucker, the world suddenly became a whole lot bigger and the magician was gone.
Now Jason had little fluffy black paws, no weapons and no way of contacting anyone. Not that he actually had anyone to call in Gotham. Especially after leaving a duffle bag full of heads for the GCPD.
He caught a glimpse of his new form in a broken mirror propped against one of the trashcans taking up space in the alleyway.
His fur was mostly black, he had a little, barely noticeable white patch on his head and long whiskers. His green eyes looked eerie on his cat form and he was pretty big for an ordinary cat.
Nowhere near as big as he was before Discount Gandalf came along, but respectable enough for a cat.
Jason spent the next hour making his way through the back alleyways, trying to get to his nearest safehouse.
Then, a flurry of bright colours caught his eye and a pair of familiar boots landed in front of him.
Robin crouched down cooing softly at him, Jason hissed.
I'll claw the hell outta you. Jason tried to project.
While he was more mad at Bruce and Dick than he was at Tim, it didn't mean he wouldn't attack him if given a reason.
Tim obviously had no self preservation instincts whatsoever because he just sat down across from Jason, offering a gloveless hand.
"I won't hurt you, it's okay," He said gently.
Jason clawed him, Tim yelped.
Honestly, what did he expect?
Tim grimaced sympathetically. "You've obviously had it rough, poor guy."
That was…surprisingly patient of him.
"You're very cute." Jason hissed in reply, the brat's lips twitched upwards. "And tough, very scary."
Jason narrowed his eyes, scrutinising the kid. He didn't look scared.
"Listen, it's Halloween and people tend to get mean with black cats because of that bad luck bullshit. They have cults. Sacrificial cults. It's insane, little dude. I don't want you to get hurt," Tim's voice was soft and gentle as he spoke to Jason as if he could be reasoned with. And sure, he could, but the kid didn't actually know that.
Jason growled and bolted off. He was the Red Goddamn Hood. He could fight off a few cultists.
-
Almost seven hours later Jason had been soaked by the rain, some asshole tried to kick him and he in turn clawed the hell out of him. Safe to say, the guy won't be reproducing anytime soon.
He got into a fight with an alley cat– one of the cats he gave treats to as well, the traitor. He would not be talking to Gables once he turned back.
He fell into a dumpster and clawing his way out was eerily similar to how digging himself out of his grave felt. Except instead of smelling like dirt, he reeked of three week old trash.
Then, to top off the fifth worst day of his life, the cultists found him.
Robin wasn't kidding about their obsession with black cats. Six pairs of hands reaching for Jason made that very clear. It also pissed Jason the hell off. What kind of sick freak hurts animals? Jason growled, he'd make sure it was the last time these fuckers tried to hurt anything.
Grey robes turned red as Jason shredded them to pieces, along with the skin underneath. Hopefully the idiots had gotten their tetnus shots. Or not, Jason wouldn't mind seeing them suffer more.
Clawing them to ribbons was pretty fun, it had Jason understanding why Selina had opted to put claws in her gloves. The woman was a goddamn genius. It was going well until one of the cultists grabbed a pipe off the ground and hit him.
And it hurt.
Before the fucker could do it a second time, or better yet, Jason recovered enough to claw off his face, Robin flew in.
And either Tim was a more vicious Robin than Jason and Dick combined, or he really hated animal abusers too.
That bo staff was fucking lethal in the kid's hands. No way Bruce had taught him how to do that, not only was he not skilled enough to teach anyone how to wield it, but Robin was using moves that would have made Bruce balk and growl out something about morals.
Jason considered hobbling away while the kid tied up the last of the cultists, but his side was still screaming at him and frankly, he was exhausted. He figured he could try to show the kid that he wasn't actually a cat and get turned back.
After that, he'd either escape the Bats or escape whatever hellhole they tried to dump him in.
Robin crouched down in front of him. "Hey, little guy."
Jason hissed weakly.
"Huh, it's you again." He tilted his head. Jason blinked, he wasn't expecting the brat to remember some random cat that scratched him. "Listen, I can help you, get you somewhere safe." It was almost cute how his successor talked to animals, as if he could win them over with logic alone.
Jason sighed and after a few minutes of coaxing, he reluctantly let the kid scoop him up in his cape.
He dug his claws into said cape out of spite.
"I know someone who can fix you right up." Tim chirped brightly.
-
Leslie. The dumbass took him to Leslie's.
"I'm not a vet." Leslie gave Tim a flat stare. She gently pressed her fingers against Jason's side, looking down at him with a soft gaze that took him right back to his Robin days.
"You saved Bruce's fish once." Tim countered.
Both Jason and Leslie let out twin sighs of exasperation. Jason was starting to learn that his successor was an idiot outside of everything but fighting, cases and computers.
"I cleaned the bowl and bought fish medicine from the pet store." Leslie's lips twitched up in amusement. "Nothing seems to be broken."
Tim shot Jason a relieved smile. Jason growled at him in return. A deep, guttural snarl that Tim didn't even bat an eye at.
"He's slightly malnourished, dehydrated and in desperate need of a bath," Jason yowled indignantly at that. Leslie ignored him. "But overall, he should be fine. Are you taking him to a shelter?"
"They're all closed until mid November." Tim said.
Jason huffed. Gotham was probably the only city in the world that would have to close its shelters because of Halloween.
"That's late, even for us." Leslie commented.
"It's because of what happened last year, with that gang and the parrots." Tim shrugged. "I can look after him until they open up."
-
Leslie has given Jason his ‘much needed’ bath. Something he was never going to live down if anyone found out about this.
Tim had taken him straight home, as most of the shops were closed. Jason was now in the living room of Drake Manor, a place that looked more like a haunted museum than a home.
Jason stalked his way around the empty house, tail swishing. It was creepy, but it would do.
-
Despite his issues with his successor, he had to give credit where credit's due, the kid was pretty level headed in the face of a snarling cat. It was kind of concerning.
Jason had attacked his ankles, launched himself at Tim from high up places in the room, sat on one of his case files when he went to pick it up and hissed whenever the kid came near him.
Tim only reacted with amusement or neutrality. The normal reaction to an angry cat flying through the air towards you should be terrified screaming, not laughter.
He decided to take a break from the attacks and settled for glaring from the corner of the room.
Jason watched as Tim put a heating pad under a soft looking blanket, hissing when Tim gestured for him to lie on it.
Still, after a few minutes he cautiously walked towards it, glaring suspiciously at Tim who was–
On his tablet. Ignoring Jason .
In a fit of anger, Jason hopped up onto the couch and headbutted Tim's hand, knocking his tablet to the side.
"You want attention?" Tim asked. He lightly scratched Jason's head earning himself a hiss. It was more half-hearted than Jason would like to admit.
Still, he did not want attention. But he refused to be ignored. It was a difficult balance to maintain, but Jason did well with it.
The heating pad was nice. Jason also made plans to steal the blanket after he'd gotten turned back.
-
When Tim placed a delicate looking porcelain bowl in front of him, Jason gave him a judgemental side eye. Even Bruce would know better than to give fancy shit to cats.
“I don’t have cat stuff here.” Tim said with a shrug.
Jason sighed, rich people. He leaned over to peek into the bowl, only to rear back in disgust at the awful stench assaulting his poor nose.
He growled at the chunks of tinned sardine and turned away, glaring up at Tim.
Tim grimaced. “Yeah, I didn’t think that would work.” He offered Jason a piece of his hot dog.
Jason glared and snatched the whole thing out of the kids hands before sprinting away.
“Bad kitty!” Tim called after him, he sounded more amused than anything else.
Jason ignored him and hid away in the coatroom to feast on his well earned prize.
-
For the next week, or so, Tim mostly stayed in the house with Jason.
Jason spent the first few days initiating surprise attacks on Tim. He had to stay in shape somehow while stuck like this.
Tim actually seemed to enjoy the attacks, the weirdo. He started using Robin manoeuvres to dodge Jason’s claws and carried a blanket around so he could try and trap Jason.
He’d succeeded four times so far. Jason had to suffer through godawful snuggle sessions whenever that happened. It was pretty clear that Tim had been spending too much time with Dick.
Still, the attacks were kind of fun. Jason stopped using his claws constantly on day three. Just to challenge himself, of course.
He’d tried using morse code a few times to tell Tim that he wasn’t a cat. But the kid just thought his paws were hurting each time and called Leslie in a fit of worry.
He responded to each of Tim’s questions with nods or headshakes, but that didn’t seem to tip the little dumbass off either. But at least Jason got nice takeaway meals out of the deal. The kid had no idea how to take care of a cat.
Tim was kind of an idiot, but a well meaning one. It was annoyingly endearing.
By day five, he was a little concerned that the kid had only gone out as Robin twice. The first, when he found Jason and the other on day four.
From what he’d heard, Tim was pretty devoted to the job, just as the rest of them had been.
Jason briefly wondered if it was because Tim was injured, but he seemed to be moving fine during their attack sessions.
His question was answered on day seven.
-
Jason was perched on Tim’s shoulder as they went downstairs to watch Jane Eyre.
Tim had an English assignment due and, instead of reading the book, the heathen wanted to watch the movie for convenience.
The kid gave Jason a headache sometimes.
Jason felt Tim tense as they reached the doorway, he looked over, ready to launch himself at the threat before freezing.
Bruce was in the living room, an open window behind him.
It was kind of lame to climb through a window on the ground floor. Jason would just break down the door, like any self respecting vigilante.
“This is just pathetic, Bruce. It’s the ground floor, why not just knock?” Each word Tim spoke was practically drenched in distaste.
Jason's whiskers twitched in amusement. Great minds think alike, it seems.
“Would you have answered?” Bruce asked.
He was using the same tone he had with Dick, back when Dick was prone to cutting Bruce out for weeks at a time over certain missteps.
“Only to shut the door in your face.” Tim shot Bruce a saccharine smile.
Jason rumbled happily, anyone who hated Bruce was golden in Jason’s books.
Bruce glanced at him. “You have a cat.”
“Great work, detective.” Tim rolled his eyes.
“Tim,” Bruce tried.
“The door’s that way.” Tim snapped.
Even Jason winced at Tim’s glacial tone. Still, whatever happened, he was sure it was Bruce's fault.
“Listen,” Bruce stepped forward.
Jason snarled at him crouching in preparation to lunge.
If Tim didn't want Bruce here, then Jason would be happy to take out the trash. In cat sized pieces, if need be.
Bruce looked at him with narrowed eyes, Jason glared back, green pulsed at the edges of his vision for the first time in almost a week.
"I don't think he likes you." Tim remarked. "I don't either."
Jason's ears perked up. More beautiful words had never been spoken. Tim should use that for his English assignment, he’d pass with flying colours.
Bruce sighed. "This is about your birthday."
What? Did the kid not get enough presents? Tim didn’t seem like the type to go into a strop about that. He was more like a feral gremlin than a rich brat.
"Yup." Tim narrowed his eyes.
"I thought you would appreciate the challenge." Bruce said.
Tim inhaled, a long, deep breath, and Jason immediately knew that Bruce had fucked up. Big time.
"You faked a message from Alfred set in a ruined future that said someone we knew would betray us. That if I specifically didn't stop it, we would all be doomed. Only for the whole thing to be a test by you to measure my analytical and detective work. As if I'm not already a better detective than you."
Tim glared, his eyes looked almost green in the light. Which was strange, but Jason was too shocked to linger on it.
He was pretty sure he was gaping. What the fuck, Bruce?
Then, his vision was submerged in green. He lunged at Bruce, claws out, just missing his eye. But he caught the arm Bruce shielded his face with and began clawing his way down it, revelling in his pained grunts.
He paused momentarily to dig his claws in deep before slowly dragging them down.
He couldn’t help but purr. Talia would be proud of his handiwork, even if it was inflicted on her beloved. She was cool that way.
Bruce started to shake him off. Jason clung on, getting as many scratches in as he could before he fell to the floor.
His fall was cushioned by one of the many blankets scattered around the house for him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Tim yelled at Bruce. Jason was swiftly snatched up into a protective embrace. "He could have been hurt." Tim frantically checked Jason over, paying no attention to the blood dripping down Bruce's arm outside of saying. "You're getting blood on our blanket."
Jason loved this little gremlin.
He rumbled happily. Batman’s Robin hated him, Jason had gotten to attack Bruce and he and Tim were going to watch Jane Eyre later. This was turning out to be a very good day.
“Poor darling, did the bad man hurt you?” Tim stared down at him with worried eyes.
Well, Jason did have blood in his claws, which wasn’t ideal. So he nodded.
"He's obviously feral and dangerous." Bruce said.
"He's never done that before," Tim said, despite knowing full well Jason has spent forty percent of their time together attacking people. Mostly Tim himself. "You must have provoked him."
Jason purred and gave Bruce a smug look. Take that, old man.
Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Tim, I don't think–"
"You should leave." Tim glared. "I need to make sure he wasn't injured by you throwing him around." He spat, staring at Bruce as if he was a complete and utter scumbag.
Jason made a note to get Tim a present when he turned back. Maybe an electric bo staff to shock Bruce with if he ever annoyed him again.
"That cat isn't well–" Bruce tried.
"You won't be well in a minute if you don't leave." Tim hissed.
Jason wondered if Tim would be down for being Red Hood's Robin. He'd be a way better mentor than Bruce. He has murder, cookies and no birthday related trauma.
Bruce stepped towards them and Jason growled, flexing his bloody claws warningly.
"Don't make me call Cass." Tim glared.
Bruce froze, staring at Tim for a few moments before he reluctantly left, climbing out the ground floor window like a loser.
Whoever this Cass was, Jason did not want to mess with her.
Tim smiled at Jason. "Who's a good, clever boy? You.” He tapped Jason’s nose. Jason allowed it. “You are."
Jason puffed up. He was a good, clever boy.
No. He was a crime lord, a good, clever, crime lord.
-
“Okay, so I have a …friend coming to visit.” Tim began. Jason's ears perked up at the hesitation in his tone. Tim paused, then shook his head, laughing. “Wait, cats aren’t homophobic. My boyfriend’s coming round.”
While Jason was not a cat, nor was he homophobic, he was shocked.
Tim. The walking disaster who thinks lemon muffins are a good thing to feed a cat, has a boyfriend?
It was already a wonder that Dick had managed to get anyone to date him and Tim was worse than Dick could ever hope to be.
Where Dick was a feral dog, Tim was a demented racoon. And twice as vicious to boot.
Who on earth would willingly subject themselves to that?
Then again, there are people who willingly date Bruce. Jason shuddered at the thought. At least Tim was both smarter and sweeter than that mess.
Huh. Maybe the kid did have a chance.
Jason idly flexed his claws while he mused over this conundrum.
“Please don’t maim him. We like Bernard.” Tim added, eyeing Jason's paws in exasperation.
Speak for yourself, Jason growled lightly. Considering Tim’s taste in, well, anything, he didn’t have high hopes for this, Bernard .
“Sometimes, I wonder if you’re part dog.” Tim said, Jason huffed.
About an hour later, Bernard arrived.
Jason observed him from his perch on the curtain railing. It was one of his favourite surprise attack spots.
Bernard seemed relatively normal. Then again, so did most serial killers. So that didn't mean squat.
Jason could tell he wasn’t another hero. No signs of training, not even the basic kind metas have.
“So, where’s your cat?” Bernard asked after a few minutes.
Jason jumped down with a relatively calm growl, landing between them on the couch.
“There's my little ball of sunshine.” Tim grinned.
It was moments like this that made Jason want to go back to his first draft plan where he beats up the brat.
Bernard didn’t bat an eye. “Hello there,” He said softly, offering his hand to Jason. He automatically went to shake it before realising he was still a cat.
Bernard patted his paw with a wide smile.
“He gets a handshake, I get clawed, I see how it is.” Tim said.
Jason ignored him, as he sometimes liked to do. He glared at Bernard, it was one of his better glares. It made Talia nod in approval once.
"What's his name?" Bernard asked as he stared down at Jason’s lameass cat form, completely unafraid.
He hated being a cat. Minus the blankets, heat pads, head massages, claws–
Okay, so it wasn’t all terrible. Tim was a good enough caretaker, even if the kid’s self-preservation instincts were basically non-existent.
Still, Jason missed being intimidating.
"Uh,” Tim looked over at Jason who glared back at him. It was hardly his problem that the kid hadn't come up with a name yet. It had been a week. “Fluffy."
Jason hissed, snarled and yowled. I'm not fucking Fluffy . I'm the Red Goddamn Hood.
Bernard blinked. "I don't think he likes that much."
Jason growled at him. No shit, Sherlock.
"He's fine." Tim waved a hand, Jason slapped it with his paw, relishing in the loud thump it made on impact.
"Are you sure he's safe?" Bernard gave Jason a slightly judgy side eye as he took Tim's hand in his, checking for injuries.
Jason sniffed. So Bernard was invested in the gremlins' well-being, that was a good sign. A futile investment overall, knowing Tim. But still promising.
"Oh he's not. But what is in life?" Tim shrugged, taking Bernard’s hand in his.
Jason sighed along with Bernard.
"Did you at least get your tetanus shot?" Bernard asked.
Tim’s eyes widened. "That's a real thing?"
Bernard paled and Jason folded his ears, resisting the urge to hide his face behind his paws and cry in despair. It was a feeling he'd built up a tolerance to since meeting Tim.
He was pretty sure he hadn’t been this stressed since emerging from the Pit.
-
Turns out, Tim did get his tetanus shot.
Dick had apparently spent three months shooting the kid up with the vaccinations his parents never got him. Along with boosters, travel vaccinations and immunity shots for the pollen, venom, toxins and gases that he'd come across as Robin.
Which was cool and all, but Jason was wondering why the fuck Tim would let some guy he'd only known for a week at the time start injecting him with unknown substances without question.
But, really, who was he to judge the kid's life choices? He wasn't dead yet, by some questionable miracle.
"I did try to get my vaccinations on my own, but apparently you need an adult present for that." Tim rolled his eyes as if it was oh so unreasonable. "Six should be old enough to get a few jags by yourself."
"Baby," Bernard said. Jason almost coughed up a furball at the nickname. His whiskers twitched in disgust, it was like that time Wally called Dick sugar. The only names people should be calling Jason's brothers are gremlin and bastard respectively. "Remember that talk we had about your normal not being other people's normal?"
"Yes– oh." Tim breathed.
So, the kid was a member of the shitty parents club. Great. That made it marginally more difficult to dislike him, but Jason would persevere.
Who was he kidding? He was snatching the brat up the moment this spell wore off and fuck whatever Bruce had to say about it. You snooze, you lose.
"It's a miracle you didn’t drop dead or start a new plague." Bernard said.
Jason nodded. It truly was a miracle, especially in Gotham, a city riddled with more disease than a hospital in the 1800s.
Tim hummed. "I was really sick one time, when I was eight.” He said, running a soothing hand over Jason’s head when he hissed at the thought. “Like, really sick. But I drank this green stuff I found in my mom's office when I was looking for medicine and it went away pretty soon after that."
Jason froze. His fur rising slightly and both his ears turning towards Tim’s voice. There was no way it was what he thought it was. No goddamn way.
"I remember that!” Bernard exclaimed. He tilted his head thoughtfully. “You were kind of snappy for a while after."
Nope. No fucking way. Just no. Jason’s whiskers twitched as he inhaled a few sharp breaths.
Tim grimaced. "I know. Sorry."
Bernard waved off the apology with a smile. "Your eyes always went a little green when you got mad too." He said. Jason closed his eyes, a low growl building up in his chest. “I figured you’d just run across one of the rogue’s gases or something.”
What the fuck was wrong with these kids?
"Huh. Cool." Tim grinned.
When Jason turned back, he was going to throw the damn kid into a therapist's office.
"It was." Bernard hummed thoughtfully. “You think they still have that stuff around?”
Jason now had an answer as to why Bernard would subject themselves to Tim's insanity. He was just as off his rocker as Tim was, mystery fucking solved.
“We can have a look.” Tim said.
Jason resisted the urge to wail in despair. Mostly because the last three times he had done so, he got swaddled in blankets and crooned at until he started growling.
Instead, he viciously swiped both their phones off the table and clawed their shins.
"Fluffy!" Tim yelped.
Jason clawed him again for that.
Stupidity should always be met with punishment, Talia once told him. Jason could finally see where she was coming from now.
-
One day, Jason was sitting on the counter, silently judging Tim as he made the saddest breakfast known to man.
A green smoothie with way too many scoops of protein powder. It looked more swamp green than the vibrant shade Tim was probably– hopefully– going for.
Then suddenly, Jason was a lot bigger, hitting his head off the cupboard and flailing onto the floor.
"Holy fuck, that hurt." He groaned, rubbing his head.
"Jason?" Tim stared at him with wide eyes.
Jason waved. "Hey."
"Hi." Tim blinked, looking between Jason and the counter his cat counterpart had been sitting on. "You're Fluffy?"
"Fuck that name and fuck you for picking it." Jason glared, slowly pushing himself off the floor.
"I hadn’t thought of a name until Bernard asked." Tim defended. He put his smoothie aside and walked over to help Jason up. "Were you a cat this whole time? Were you never really dead? Why would Joker turn you into a cat–"
"I was dead, it didn't stick, I got dipped, came back here and some Walmart Harry Potter turned me into a cat." Jason rattled off, utterly done with the last few days. Scratch that, the last few years.
"You were very cute." Tim said. "With your little growls and all."
"Fuck off." Jason growled, grimacing when Tim grinned, the little shit. "I'm making you my Robin now, by the way."
While Jason had concluded that Bruce had lost both his Robin and Tim privileges and had granted himself full custody of the gremlin, he thought it was only fair to notify Tim of this change.
"Cool." Tim smiled, Jason couldn't help but smile back. "Want some of my smoothie?"
"I'd rather be a cat again." Jason eyed the green sludge in distaste.
"Rude, you had it good with me." Tim said.
Jason could admit that it wasn't as bad as it could have been.
"It was stressful being around you."
"Thank you." Tim seemed genuinely touched. He reached for his smoothie.
Jason batted his hand. "Put that shit away, I'm making us pancakes."
"As you wish, Fluffy." Tim grinned.
Jason lunged at him. Tim, in all his kamikaze glory, laughed in his face even as Jason tackled him.
So, this was what having an annoying younger brother was like. Yay him.