Archive of Our Own ^beta

robin1robin has opened a dm with musclecarman.

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When Jason ambushes the new “Robin,” he’s an afterthought more than anything. A piece in a grander scheme, rather than a goal in and of himself. Jason’s decided that he doesn’t care about the kid. It’s way too easy to grab him, though. He satisfies himself with that, even as he prepares his speech to Bruce.

Jason doesn’t think about the dead weight in his arms or the way the kid’s hair lies stringy and limp in the rain, not until later. When he holds the blade to his throat, he does notice that the kid grabs his arm. He doesn’t want to die. Jason didn’t either. Does the kid think he’s better than Jason? Pathetic. Scrabbling for grip never saved anyone. Jason’s arm was too sturdy. The door was locked.

If it were Jason, he’d have disarmed the guy with his belt taser. He doesn’t remember everything, but he remembers that. That’s why Jason had made sure this suit was insulated. Rain trickles down both of their faces, and Jason is able to hear the kid’s breathing. Steady, despite his panic.

He focuses back on Bruce, only for Selina to ambush him and tear the Pretender from his arms. Whatever, he’s made his point. Robin is fragile. Bruce never should have brought another kid out into the field, not when he hadn’t handled any of the real threats. Hell, he couldn’t even handle this.

When Jason leaves, he’s riding high on adrenaline from the fight. He’s not even sure whether he got the kid’s neck when Selina kicked him away. It wouldn’t be lethal; he knew he wasn’t close enough for that. He doesn’t care.

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He needs to get out of Gotham. His plan is working. It is working, though he thinks Black Mask and his goons will need a firmer hand to remove them from the city. Whatever the hell had happened just before Jason came to town really fucked things up. It makes it easier for Jason in the long run, but he doesn’t respect Black Mask, the way he might have respected some of the guys running things before. Not enough to let them keep their territory, but…

Anyway, he needs space. Everything’s working, which means he’s going to be able to confront Bruce again. For real, this time.

It feels final. He needs to take care of any unfinished business now, just in case. And he doesn’t know the new kid. He’s been thinking about him, wondering why he’s not been in Gotham. Did Bruce send him to San Francisco to try and hide him from Jason? To protect him, given what had happened before? Did Bruce even know that that had been Jason and not Clayface?

The kid--Tim Drake, apparently--was a regular on the Titans. He’d had time to develop as a member of the team, unlike Jason. Maybe they just felt obligated to have a Robin on the team. Jason certainly hadn’t felt qualified when he’d been with them for those few missions.

Frowning, he wonders whatever happened to Arsenal and that kid of his.

He’s letting himself get distracted. He shouldn’t. For now, Jason will handle the kid. He’ll have to drive, but he’s got the time to spare. His lieutenants know better than to cross him-- and if they don’t, what are more bodies on the pile, really?

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Tim Drake became Robin officially over a year after Jason’s death. Jason’s done his research, though. The kid started training with Bruce after just six months. Hell, Jason might have already crawled back out of his grave by then.

And the kid’s privileged besides. Guess Bruce had had enough of poverty tourism or whatever. He’d lived in a house his whole life, only lost his dad recently, went to fucking private school. Jason can’t help but bring that up when he sees him. Especially when Tim says Jason’s been doing things the easy way. The kid knows all about easy, doesn’t he? He’s got no clue.

Still, Jason ends up saying more than he means to.

“Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn’t.”

He realizes as he’s narrating Tim’s trajectory into Robin that he probably sounds like he admires Tim. Who wouldn’t think he was better, hearing how he tailed Batman for weeks, how he figured out his secret identity, how he managed to weasel his way in. Ultimately though--

“Bruce knew you were there. You can’t be that good,” he scoffs, throwing a punch that Tim just barely ducks under.

“I am,” Tim says. The hit he lands on Jason’s chin has him kicking out hard in retaliation, sending Tim into a planter. The bruise forming on his chin throbs. The kid’s got a good arm on him, Jason allows.

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By the time Jason’s knocked over a statue and snarled out his venom, his chest is heaving. Everyone fucking forgot him. Everyone moved on like he was nothing, because he was. He can’t stand the thought of it. He wants to tear all these statues down, dance on their graves, see if that is noteworthy enough.

“Are you completely insane?” Tim asks, coughing. Jason jerks his head up to look at him, realizing that he’s making a move. In one competent arc, Tim’s flipping off of a statue of some Titan Jason doesn’t recognize (someone who was still important enough to have a statue, unlike Jason). “No one could forget you.”

Tim’s in his space and telling him off while he manages several hits on Jason. Jason’s reeling from his first line, let alone the rest. The kid remembers him? He thinks Bruce blames himself for Jason? Well, Jason can believe that, even if the guilt clearly hadn’t inspired any action. But the kid thinks of him, too? How often? And, more than that, the kid’s up and fighting back. He’s really fighting back.

Jason’s grin is vicious as he puts him in his place, even satisfied as he is that the kid has earned his spot as Robin. He should know how precarious his place is if he’s going to keep doing this. Should know that he’s not better than Jason, too.

When he’s bleeding on the floor, Jason has to ask him.

“No one was surprised when I died. When I failed. And I’m a failure, but I’m still beating you. What do you think, Tim? You think you’re that good?”

And Tim, infuriating and faint as he passes out, sounds remarkably calm as he answers.

“Yes.”

Jason scoffs as Tim goes limp, hardly able to believe it. He reminds him of someone, though he can’t put his finger on who. It’s not important. Instead, Jason opens a vein in his own arm and gets to work-- the kid isn’t bleeding enough to write much of a message with, unfortunately, and he’s not as invested in beating him now that he’s not fighting back. He mixes their blood together and gets to work.

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Jason thinks about their fight for a while. He’s got his own shit going on, and Bruce still doesn’t seem to be letting the kid kick around in Gotham. Makes sense; Jason wouldn’t let Tim be in the same city as himself, either. He does spot Tim on the news a week or so later, not looking any worse for wear as he’s caught in the distance fighting Brother Blood. He’s got the other Titans with him, but Jason’s eyes are on Tim.

Tim’s standing straight and then darting forward, vanishing into the wreckage of the building they’re fighting in. Jason frowns. From what he’d seen, Tim should be fine. He doesn’t care, not really, but he knows where he hit him and how hard. So Tim shouldn’t actually be fine, but his movements were normal. Didn’t look like he was favoring an arm.

On the other hand, Jason remembers his own training with Bruce. Don’t ever show the enemy a weakness unless it’s a trick. Hide and wait for Bruce if you can’t keep fighting. Run away if you can. Only Tim’s not working with Bruce. He’s got a whole team. He’ll be fine.

And, Jason reminds himself again, he doesn’t care. He flips the channel to some stupid cartoon and focuses on wiring the bombs he’s going to use.

His mind drifts again, despite his conscious decision to be productive. He remembers the time before his death: the shit he used to do, the chatrooms he’d been on. Who had he used to talk to, anyway? Some other kids who lived in Gotham. Someone reading the same books in their English class as him. robin1robin, the Robin superfan. Man. It’s been a long time since he’s really thought about any of them-- he’s been too busy. He wonders if Bruce’ll let him live to talk to them again. It’s out of Jason’s hands, really, so he doesn’t mind spending a minute daydreaming (and not logging onto his old account).

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After shit goes down, Jason doesn’t want to think about it. He wasn’t Bruce’s first choice. He gets that. He feels like he’s got a gaping wound, like he’s bleeding his feelings all over. He can’t be in Gotham right now. He thinks about going to New York, since that’s where Dick is after Bludhaven was wiped off the map. He also thinks about Tim.

Maybe he’s thought too much about Tim. He’s been hunting down clips of the Titans as they get posted online and watching them carefully, trying to track the progress of Tim’s injuries. He’s hard to read, especially from far away. Even when the Titans stick around after a fight for a rare interview, Tim just stands steadily behind Starfire and Cyborg as they answer questions.

Jason plays a clip from a few days ago, curled up on a motel bed in the middle of nowhere Iowa.

“...without property damage,” Cyborg is saying, sounding stoic. Jason has no idea what fight they were in. He’s been watching Tim at Cyborg’s side, trying to parse the kid’s emotions. Something that the kid said before is still niggling at the back of his mind. He’d asked Jason if he wanted to be Robin again, like being Robin was something you could fight someone for. Like Bruce would just give it to the winner. It reminds Jason of something, but he can’t remember what.

“Robin, given your ties to Nightwing and your own time in the city, what message do you have for the survivors of the disaster in Bludhaven?”

Jason stiffens and pulls his phone closer to his face, squinting at the shitty camera footage. Tim’s expression hasn’t changed, though his shoulders are squared.

“What happened to Bludhaven was terrible. My condolences to all those affected. I’m sorry for your loss.” There’s not quite enough emotion behind the words for them to sound real. Jason flicks through his mental log-- but yeah, the kid and the new Batgirl had been operating out of Bludhaven for a little bit there, hadn’t they? Had the kid lost all his shit when the place went up? Had he known anyone there?

“That’s a little generic,” the reporter says unprofessionally.

“Oh. You want to know how I actually feel?” Tim leans in towards the mic, though Starfire is stepping forward with a frown, clearly intending on taking over. From her expression, she’s not pleased with the reporter either. “More than a hundred thousand people died, and you’re milking it for ratings. How do you think that makes me feel? How do you think that makes anybody who knew somebody in Bludhaven feel? I--” Starfire’s arm starts to move.

“That comment was inappropriate,” Starfire says, holding her hand between the reporter and Tim. Tim’s mouth shuts so fast it looks like it might hurt, but Starfire’s frowning and looking at the reporter with her acidic green eyes sparking. She takes up nearly the whole frame, her hair floating with energy. “We won’t be speaking with your station in the future. Titans, we’re leaving.”

And like that, Tim is gone.

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Something about that conversation reminds Jason of his old online friends-- of robin1robin specifically. It’s been years. He figures the kid’s not hanging around waiting for a message from him. But now there’s nothing to really take his mind out of the spiral (nothing he wants to think about at least). He closes out all of his maps and bomb plans, clears his cache, and pulls up the messaging app he’d been using back then. It takes him five tries to remember his old password-- he almost starts planning on how to pull the company’s password repositories and brute force crack them.

There, at the top of the screen is a warning in red: Account Deactivated: User may not use account services without reactivation. Jason frowns as he looks at it. When he opens his message history, it feels unsettling. All these names he’s forgotten: unwelcomeparrots and pompom37 are complete unknowns to him. He idly clicks on pompom37 and sees a long conversation about the best pizza place in Gotham. He has no recollection of it, and his opinion from years ago doesn’t feel like his anymore.

He closes his eyes and breathes, wondering at how he feels dizzy just from reading a few old messages. It takes a second, but he reminds himself that he’s here for a reason. robin1robin’s last message is from the year Jason died. That makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is the wall of unread messages. Half of them are deleted.

He pauses and then decides to wait to read them, because he thinks he’ll need a break afterwards. The first one is from just a few months after he moved in with Bruce. He remembers searching up Robin and Batman, just to see what people thought. The Batwatch group had been a passing curiosity, not something he cared about that much.

But then he’d met robin1robin. Sure, he hadn’t told him the whole truth all the time, but they’d talked for years. Sometimes he’d thought robin1robin was his best friend, pathetic as it felt. Sometimes he thought maybe they were somehow more than that. He couldn’t have defined it then.

The messages swim before his eyes, and Jason blinks hard, focusing. He reads some of robin1robin’s angriest messages. They’re familiar. He thinks he knows what they’d sound like, if robin1robin were speaking aloud. He slaps his laptop closed, then reopens it a few seconds later, leaning in closer.

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Jason can’t bring himself to try and reactivate his account. He thought that, maybe, if he messaged robin1robin, he might be able to figure out what was bugging him, but… the last messages the kid had sent him were haunting. He wasn’t the kind of douche who’d pop out of the woodwork years later with some crazy story about dying for six months and then not thinking to contact anybody for another couple of years. It didn’t matter that it was true-- why the hell would robin1robin believe him?

He considers going to spend time with Dick. He’d gotten a Nightwing costume made at the same time he’d gotten the Robin costume done, impulse commissions from a very detail-oriented guy on Fiverr. But, no, he thinks he needs to see Tim. See if he can figure out why his brain keeps on getting stuck when he sees Tim in those videos.

Jason tracks him down. He’s still in San Francisco. Maybe Bruce is being more Bruce than usual, with everything that’s happened. Jason knows that some serious shit went down even before he came back to Gotham. Seems like it’s not a great place to be right now.

The first time he finds Tim, it’s while the Titans are cleaning up after some fight. He caught the traffic report on the radio, and his rental car’s sitting maybe 100 feet out from the wreckage, keys left behind in the ignition. He used an alias for the rental, so he doesn’t really care what happens to it. The helmet goes on before he gets too close, since he doesn’t know what the Titans know about the Bats. It’s not like he gives a shit about Bruce’s secret identity, but the guy’s enmeshed with so many other idiots…

He climbs up a building for a good vantage point (It’s… mostly intact) and catches sight of Tim just a little ways away, down at street level. When he jumps down to talk to him, Tim spins around and raises his bo staff defensively.

“Hey,” Jason says, trying to figure out if what he’s feeling is rage. His gut is clenching, and he does want to hit something, but more so he can stop feeling so-- When did he start sweating under the helmet?

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tim asks, clearly trying to sound clipped and professional (and failing, given the way his voice drops an octave and his brows crease).

Jason shifts his stance, deciding.

“Just wanted to let you know I was in the area.” Shit. Cop-out. Thankfully, Tim can’t see the face he’s making under the helmet.

“Huh?” Tim replies, which is the only thing that makes sense, honestly. He gives Jason a look, full of irritation and something Jason can’t figure out. “Well, don’t be. We don’t need you on top of this.”

“You’re lucky that I’m telling you.” Jason crosses his arms.

“I’d know you were here the second you tried one of your operations. Drug trafficking isn’t as covert as you think it is.”

“I don’t think it’s covert-- I think it’s controllable.”

“Okay. Anyway.” Tim waves his hand dismissively. “I have a team to get back to, unless you want to take on the Titans right now. I’m sure Starfire and Cyborg would love to get their hands on you, after your last visit.”

“And you wouldn’t?” Jason challenges.

“I don’t care about you,” Tim says. “Hell, I don’t actually even know you. I just want you to stay out of my way.”

That delivery-- all of it-- is more familiar. Jason would run a hand through his hair if he could. Instead he settles for scoffing and disappearing down the alleyway.

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The next time Jason sees Tim, he fires off a warning shot, just to see how it feels. Bad, he concludes as the gunshot echoes through the alleyway. Before Tim’s finished turning around, Jason’s booking it, hoping not to be spotted.

For better or worse, Tim was trained by Bruce, too. He corners Jason a few blocks down, just as Jason’s debating on whether to hotwire a motorcycle or use one of those stupid scooter rentals. The latter is less likely to result in a police report, sure, but it’s not like the Titans investigate every vehicle theft in the Bay Area.

A birdarang glances off of Jason’s helmet, and he jerks around, grabbing it before it can fall and tossing it to the side.

“Assassinations now? Trying to escalate after you realized you couldn’t beat me to death?” Tim’s tone is dry, like he’s not taking this very seriously.

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” Jason drawls.

“Sure.” Tim’s disbelief is palpable. He was unconscious after Jason beat him, so Jason doesn’t really know where he gets off thinking that. Paint with a little of a guy’s blood once, and-- Fuck. He can’t believe he did that. It’s hard to prevent the full body cringe.

“What, did you want your spot back?” Tim repeats the question he’d asked Jason before.

“Nah, no way. He goes through Robins like tissue paper.”

“There’s been three.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.” Amusement laces Jason’s voice.

“You’re so full of shit.” Tim snickers, then clears his throat.

“Maybe,” Jason allows.

The conversation reminds Jason powerfully of others he’s had before. He refrains from making any “your mom” jokes, since he’s not in high school anymore. Also, Tim’s mom is dead-- it hadn’t bugged Jason that much when he was talking online before, but Tim’s a sensitive guy. And maybe it bugged Jason more than he let on, and he didn’t want anyone to know how much it bugged him. Whatever.

“You shot at me. Are we fighting? Is this a fight right now?” Tim asks as the silence drags on.

“Do you want it to be?”

“I just want to go to sleep.”

“Then no.” Jason shoots him a two-fingered salute before darting off. He listens, but no footsteps follow him.

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The last time, Jason decides on a more measured approach. Maybe one that’s a little crazy, actually. He keeps comparing Tim and robin1robin, keeps wondering if he’s imagining things. The best way to handle it is to just get after it head on, he’s decided. Hell, hasn’t he done worse? This is hardly the biggest risk he’s taken.

Jason catches Tim in a mall browsing racks of clothing by himself, after tracking him for a few days. Jason sidles up next to him, baseball cap pulled low and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s not exactly discreet, wearing them indoors, but Tim just raises an eyebrow and waits.

“Hey,” Jason says.

Tim stares at him silently.

“Does musclecarman mean anything to you?” Jason asks with a sigh, pulling his sunglasses off and hooking them into his collar.

“This is why you’ve been tailing me? I’m going to kick the shit out of you.” Tim puts the overpriced t-shirt he’d been examining back on the rack, and it clacks-- he’s crossing his arms and scowling up at Jason, clearly ready to make good on his threat. Jason clears his throat and tugs his hat down a little further.

“Okay. Let me say sorry first.”

Tim nods, and they stand in silence as Jason lets him process. Then, he clears his throat and continues: “But does it?”

“You logged on.” Tim tilts his head curiously.

“How do you-- Nevermind. Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“We can ignore it. It’s not important.”

“No, I think it is. What were you apologizing for?”

Tim’s eyes dart to the side.

“Nothing. Some posts I made in Batwatch.”

“You’re a shit liar sometimes. I can find the deleted message logs myself. Figured you’d want to tell me instead though.”

“Shit. No. I wiped those.”

“You really wanted ‘em wiped, you’d have deleted my account. As is, they’re still gonna be there.”

“Yeah.” Tim sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I was… asking musclecarman to be my boyfriend. Well. To go out with me, really. The messages were really long and very cringe.”

“Huh.” Jason… isn’t sure what he was expecting. Not this. But also this. He wants it, suddenly and desperately. He finds himself thinking about what might have happened, if he’d stuck around instead of dying in Ethiopia. Whether he’d have said yes. Whether they’d still be together.

“What would you have said?” Tim says, eyes suddenly present-- Jason hadn’t realized that Tim had been avoiding his eyes until he finally met them. They’re so blue. Jason swallows, because now the question is hanging in the air between them. Jason’s scared to seize it.

“Do you still like your cheeseburgers with the cheese on the side?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

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“I don’t want to forget it. What you said.”

Tim’s gaze hardens. Then he pauses. Inhales.

“You’re serious?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Jason’s voice scrapes at his throat. “If you still want to. I want to.”

“I…” Tim starts. The pause is long again. They’re awkward. It’s nothing like those easy conversations they’d had as kids. Months and months of poking at each other, learning about each other.

“You don’t need to decide now,” Jason says, more to hear something rather than because he means it.

“I-- Good. Let’s. Why don’t we-- Why don’t you buy me a burger, then. Cheese on the side.”

“If that’s what you want,” Jason agrees.

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The burger joint they pick out is in mid-market. It’s overpriced, but still low-brow enough that they let Tim get his cheese on the side. Jason smiles at the guy who takes their orders, then realizes he’s doing it and feels alien in his own skin. He’s happy. He didn’t realize.

They stand and wait for their orders, relationship new and old at the same time. Their past and present are clashing together. Jason finds himself eager to see where it goes. He clears his throat, starts to say something. Stops.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, seeming to share the feeling from the way his mouth quirks. He nudges Jason’s side with his elbow, overly-familiar and not familiar enough.

Their order’s ready pretty fast. The burgers come in small red and white checked paper trays. The cheese has its own, and it sits there unmelted and yellow. Tim picks it up first after they sit down, starts tearing it into little even pieces. Jason bites into his own cheeseburger and wonders at it, the grease and the limp lettuce and the soft bun. It’s amazing. He wonders when the last time he actually tasted his food was.

“What brings you to San Francisco?” Tim finishes his cheese and starts on his burger. He uses his hands, thank god. Bruce uses a fork and knife as a civilian, and it makes Jason homicidal.

“You,” Jason says awkwardly after a second.

Tim blinks at thim.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. You know Alcatraz is here?”

“Is that a threat?” Jason’s confused. He fiddles with his straw, unsure.

“No. It’s just something interesting to do here.”

“I guess,” Jason agrees. He bites down on his straw. Sips his drink slowly. It’s orange soda, bright and strange in his mouth. Tim’s right there across from him. He wants to reach out and touch him, feel that he’s actually there. They don’t know how to talk to each other anymore. Or maybe it’s only Jason who’s forgotten. He clears his throat.

“So did you ever go to Paris?” he asks. He’s been to Paris now, though it was for training. Jason thinks he killed a few guys there. It’s kind of a blur now.

“Yeah,” Tim says, stopping to take a drink of his Zesti. “A couple of times. It was fine.”

“Fine, huh?” Jason’s lips curl. He stuffs them full of fries to hide it.

“You ever make it down to Virginia?” Tim asks in return.

Jason pauses, trying to remember what prompted that. What’s in Virginia?

“No. Guess I oughtta go, though. See whatever happened to Dad’s old property down there.”

“You doing anything this week?” Tim asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really.”

“Let’s go, then.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Now.”

Tim pulls out his keys and twirls them around one finger before catching them with a clink. Jason spots a red logo and snorts in disbelief.

“It’s no Paris, but I’d like to take you somewhere,” Tim says.

“Romantic,” Jason comments dryly, before freezing. Tim hasn’t said yet whether he’s thinking of Jason that way still. He might want something else. Jason can deal, if he does.

“Something like that,” Tim laughs. “We’ll see how you feel about me after driving for a few days.”

“Hey. I’m not going to be trapped in the car with you. You’re going to be trapped in there with me.”

“You say that now,” Tim says, standing and starting to head out. Jason follows him, but Tim slows down and brushes against his side. He’s a firm presence there. The back of his hand is warm against Jason’s, and Jason nudges against it. Tim nudges him back.

By the time they make it to Tim’s car, they’re holding hands.

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