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To be honest, he was kind of worried that his friends had convinced him to do this. It’s not like he had never been to a party before—although all those fancy galas and events at the manor didn’t really count. He just had never been the type of guy who goes out clubbing.
He knew Dick was that kind of guy, or at least had been in his teenage years. Now that he was working as a detective, he was “trying to give the right impression.” Yeah, sure. Jason didn’t believe him at all, but their relationship was still delicate—even if it had been almost a year since he came back into their lives and told everyone he was not dead anymore—so he didn’t dig too deep into his older brother’s personal life.
Brother.
He still felt strange using that word.
It’s not that he didn’t consider him his brother—he did. Back when he was Robin, Dick had been very much an older brother figure to him, just as much as Bruce had been a father. But things had gone wrong, and they were way more complicated than they appeared. Now his "family" was way too big, and he didn’t even know when all of that had happened.
Damian was living at the manor now, and he was genuinely happy for that. In the League, they had ended up understanding each other quite well, and Jason felt honored to be considered part of his family. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like he was usurping his place every time he dared to call himself Bruce’s son.
Tonight was supposed to be one of his first attempts at being a normal teenager, at least for once.
Over the past year in Crime Alley, he had come to befriend some of his most trusted goons—at least the ones he felt safest with—and they had ended up figuring out more about his secret identity than he had initially wished.
Bobby and Matthew were the pair coming with him tonight, mainly because they were the ones who came up with the idea of a night out to get his mind off work.
He could see Bobby was excited about this. He was friendly, and Jason appreciated his efforts to make him feel more comfortable whenever he needed it. And even though he was kind of a big mouth, once he got close to Jason, he was very capable of having his back and keeping secrets.
Matthew, on the other hand, was only there because he didn’t trust Jason to go out alone and not end up in a fight—or worse, in the middle of a PTSD episode that would absolutely destroy his reputation.
They were in civilian mode. Jason had chosen his own outfit (with the help of Bobby’s constructive criticism), and Matthew had given him a drink before leaving that made him feel so relaxed, he didn’t even care if people stared at the scars on his face.
The party was in an abandoned warehouse—flashing lights, loud music, and a funny smell all over the place. He could pick up all of that from the outside.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked when they were about to go in.
“Are you going to chicken out of this one?” Bobby teased.
“Of course not!” he said, slightly offended. “I’m just wondering. I’m the crime lord who controls at least 80% of what these people are consuming in here. What if someone recognizes me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Matthew, turning around to face them after getting the bouncer to let them in. “In any case, they know Red Hood. Tonight, my friend, you’re just Jason.”
“Fine,” he sighed.
He didn’t tell his friends his other concern. He was aware it was ridiculous, considering the whole Crime Lord persona and all, but deep inside, he was still a 19-year-old nerd afraid someone would ask for his ID and he wouldn’t have anything to show.
Inside, the atmosphere was even better. The music was good, the drinks kept coming, and after half an hour, he actually started to enjoy himself. He didn’t think he would, but as soon as the alcohol got into his system, he felt free to dance, jump, and even talk to the people around them. The warehouse was even bigger from inside, around one hundred bodies danced and crash with each others at the sound of the music and he wondered if every party looked like that.
Bobby was having the time of his life. He convinced Jason to do shots, and as the night went on, they ended up using each other to stay upright, laughing their brains out at whatever stupid thing Bobby had just said. Matthew disappeared from time to time—each time with a new girl—but when he was with them, they danced like there was no tomorrow, and jason really wished that it wouldn't because he was going to have a hell of a hangover.
It was around two in the morning when Jason started to consider following Matthew’s lead and picking someone for himself. Maybe that cute brunette who’d been eyeing him since the DJ started playing Latin music, or the blond guy he’d spotted at the bar when he went to get drinks.
It wasn’t a horrible idea—it was a party, everyone was a little drunk, and in the worst-case scenario, he didn’t have to take responsibility for whatever happened.
The DJ made a sudden switch, and a new song blasted through the warehouse.
“No fucking way!” Bobby screamed next to him. “I love this song!”
He grabbed Jason by the arm, and they started dancing together. Jason didn’t know the song, but the rhythm was contagious, and by the first chorus, he was already jumping up and down with the rest of them.
The beat got even better, and he was feeling the song so intensely that somehow, he ended up on top of a table.
Shaking his brains out up there, he knew he would regret it in the morning and silently hoped Bobby was too drunk to remember, as he promised himself never to drink like that again.
From up there, the sea of heads reached his waist, and if it hadn’t been for a sudden shift in one of the ceiling lights, he would have never noticed.
A glimpse of oddly familiar black hair caught his eye—and a sudden fear that it was one of his dealers or ex-hero partners almost made him fall off the table.
But no. This was worse.
About fifteen feet from where he stood, Tim was dancing like he was having the time of his life.
It took him the rest of the song to make sense of what he was looking at. Tim and he weren’t really close—he was pretty sure he had tried to kill him on some occasion… but they didn’t talk about that anymore. Still, he was part of the Bateam. He was there every time B called a family meeting, went with them to Cass’s recitals, and lived in the same manor, where he himself had a room in case he wanted to spend the night.
In a way, at least since Jason had come back and everyone was trying to make sense of it all, Tim was more of the family than he was.
And the others called him brother.
He knew Dick did. Cassandra did. Even Damian—he’d heard him call Tim that on one or two occasions, mostly by slip of tongue, but still.
Timothy Drake was many things. A pain in the ass, for a start. Annoyingly smart. But mostly, he was reserved.
Jason respected that about him. Even in his more bitchy teenager moments, he was a professional hero, a smartass, and the kind of guy who always tried to keep everything under control. Ever since he’d taken over Wayne Enterprises, Jason had started to see him as a mini Bruce.
That was why it had caught him completely off guard to see him there, in the middle of a crowd of kids his age, jumping, dancing, and singing.
It was probably the alcohol talking, but the first thing that came out of his mouth was a squinted little shout full of surprise:
“He has friends?!”
He crouched down, trying hard to get off the table without ending up on the floor, his eyes still locked on Tim when the other kid’s gaze shifted—like he sensed someone staring.
Tim’s eyes went wide the second he saw him, and Jason guessed he probably had a similar expression himself.
For two seconds, they stared at each other across the room as people kept dancing, completely unaware of how close Jason was to having a stroke.
That was, until Tim reacted—ducking behind one of his friends, as if that would erase the fact they had just made eye contact.
Jason’s body moved before his brain caught up, and with only three steps he was now right next to the group of kids Tim was with.
A short blond guy turned at the presence of someone new and stared up at Jason with wide, alcohol-hazed eyes.
“Wow,” the guy exclaimed. “Man, you’re big.”
Jason raised an eyebrow, but the guy was promptly pulled back into the mass of bodies by the skilled hand of Tim.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Tim shouted, stepping in front of him.
Jason made an annoyed expression.
“Me?!” He turned to look at Tim’s friends behind him, who were staring confused and whispering to each other. “What are you doing here?!”
Tim gave a dramatic groan and raised both hands, exasperated.
“I can do whatever I want!”
“You’re not supposed to be here! You’re too young for this!”
Tim made an even more annoyed face and screamed, “You are too!”
“Mh… Tim?” a girl behind him asked, staring at Jason with eyes filled with way too much glitter. “Who is this?”
“No one!” Tim exclaimed, trying to shove Jason away. “Just an asshole, and he was just leaving.”
“Hey!” Jason barked.
Tim managed to push him far enough that his friends couldn’t hear anymore, then shoved him again.
“Listen to me,” he hissed. “I’m going back there to enjoy my night with my friends, and you will go back to whatever you were doing and leave me alone so we can both pretend we never saw each other. Deal?”
Jason blinked a few times before answering.
“How did you get in here?”
“I’m a teenage celebrity and CEO of a multimillion-dollar empire. I can go wherever I want.”
He stared at the boy and remembered why he didn’t like him that much. He was pretty annoying.
“You know what? Fuck you. I’m going dancing,” Jason muttered and turned without saying anything else.
He walked back to where his friends were waiting with confused expressions, made a hand gesture to dismiss the whole thing, and kept dancing.
The party only got better, but Jason couldn’t bring himself to fully enjoy it anymore. Now he was too busy keeping an eye on Tim.
It’s not like he cared or anything—Tim could go screw himself for all he cared—but he kept thinking the girl next to him was touching his arm way too much, and that was the third drink he’d had in under twenty-five minutes, and if anything happened to him, Bruce would definitely blame it on Jason.
He rejected the next drink Matthew offered, because now that Tim was on the dance floor partying like a normal teen, Jason had become way too conscious of his own actions.
He had never imagined Tim in that situation. Most of the time they were together it was during superhero duty or Batdad-related chaos, but here—he realized Tim was just 17. A normal teenager, apart from everything else.
Just like Jason had once wished to be.
An hour passed, and he lost Tim in the crowd.
That wasn’t a problem, right? He was here to forget his complicated life and enjoy the night with his friends.
Yeah. He didn’t have to babysit another one of B’s kids.
A sudden commotion caught his attention. Across the room, people started backing away from some guys who looked ready to fight.
Jason smiled to himself—that would be fun to watch. He stepped closer to see who was in the center of the circle.
People were shouting and adding fuel to the fire, and eventually it exploded. A big guy in his thirties cursed and shoved the guy he was fighting. The guy’s body went flying and hit the back wall, hard.
And—oh for fuck’s sake—it had to be Tim.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Tim asked, using that pretentious little tone he reserved for villains.
The older man laughed. “Come on, pretty boy. I’m not afraid of punching a child.”
Jason stared at Tim, suddenly worried. He knew the kid could destroy that guy in a matter of seconds—if Tim wanted to, the guy would be eating dirt in one move. But there were so many people around, and most of them had their phones out, recording the whole thing.
Jason had come to that party because he knew no one would recognize him and he had nothing to lose. But Tim’s identity? Not exactly discreet.
If Tim didn’t figure out how to de-escalate without letting the guy beat him up—or outing himself—it could get really bad, really fast.
The man stepped closer, cracking his knuckles, and once again, Jason’s body moved before he could think. Suddenly, he was in front of Tim, standing between him and the attacker.
“Who do you think you are?!” the man yelled.
If Jason had gotten anything out of literally dying and being revived by the Lazarus Pit, it was that—despite not even being twenty—he was nearly eight feet tall when standing straight, had arms the size of the man’s torso, and his scarred face didn’t exactly scream “friendly.”
He tried to look as menacing as possible, and he knew he’d nailed it when the guy did a double take and took a step back.
“I’m his brother,” Jason said.
From all around, people started booing and laughing, and Jason decided that was his cue to leave.
He glanced at Tim, and they started walking toward the exit without saying a word. The cameras followed for a little while, but soon got bored and returned to the party.
Outside the warehouse, the garden led down to a hill. They were far enough from the city that the fresh air felt good, and Jason’s head cleared.
Tim, however, looked worse.
As soon as they were outside, he curled up in a bush and started puking.
Jason stood there, watching him vomit, holding his own hair out of his face—and everything was so much funnier now.
He burst into manic laughter, partly from the alcohol, partly from the absurdity of the moment. Tim didn't look serious anymore.
After the retching stopped, Tim turned to him with red eyes and a furious expression.
“Why are you laughing?!”
Jason kept cracking up, and when he finally caught his breath, he said, “This is all just so stupid.”
Tim looked at him for a second. Jason half-expected him to punch him.
Instead, Tim started laughing too.
So there they were, two idiots cackling in the middle of a garden while annoyed strangers stared at them.
“Let’s go,” Jason finally said. “I’ll take you home, Wait no! I don't have a car, you take us home”
“Fine,” Tim replied.
Now that he looked better, Jason grabbed him lightly by the arm, and they started walking toward the exit.
If he was honest, it felt… nice to have that.
Tim was definitely not Dick.
But maybe—maybe—Jason could learn to trust him anyway.
Some drunk guys staggered too close, yelling and laughing, and in trying to dodge them, Jason tripped over an empty tequila bottle. He grabbed Tim for balance, bumped into someone, and turned around to apologize before another fight could start.
“Hey man, I’m sorr—Damian?!”
His little brother looked up at him, green eyes wide with panic.
“What are you doing here?!” Tim shouted beside him.
“Uh…” Damian’s face turned red as he looked around for help.
It wasn’t until then that Jason noticed Jon behind him, trying to go unnoticed.
“What do you both think you’re doing?!”
“This was Jon’s idea!” Damian shouted. Jon turned to him, offended.
“That’s not true! You’re the one who said this is what normal teenagers do!”
“My only reference was a movie Stephanie made me watch! This is your fault for encouraging me!”
Jon was about to argue back when Jason decided he’d had enough. He grabbed one kid with each hand and started marching them toward the exit.
“Oh, you’re gonna be in so much trouble,” he muttered.
“Oh please, don’t tell my dad!” Jon cried, his feet barely touching the ground.
“They can’t tell them—they were here too!” Damian shouted, glaring at them.
“Well, we’re going to get in less trouble anyway,” Tim said, opening the back door of the fancy black car Jason assumed he’d brought. “You’re like ten. What were you thinking?!”
“We’re thirteen!” Damian protested.
“You know what?” Jason snapped. “I’m so mad at you two… you’re going to have to drive us home!”
“What?!” Jon yelped, looking to his friend in panic. “I can’t drive!”
“Well, Dami can. End of discussion.”
“This is ridiculous,” Damian grumbled, settling into the front seat. “You’re the ones who are drunk, and I’m the one being scolded?!”
“Yes!” Jason and Tim shouted in unison.
“Welcome to being the little sibling,” Jason added.
He heard Tim laugh behind him and couldn’t help a smile himself.
Maybe that wasn’t so bad.
After all, the brother of your brother could be your own brother too.