Work Text:
Agh. Tim is approached by another kind lady again. This time at the park.
"Hello, young man, are you lost?" This lady is accompanied by another young kid, probably eight, the same age as Tim, but a bit (lot) bigger than him.
"Ummmmmmm. Nope!" Tim says, while glancing behind him. Far, very far away is the figure of Dick Grayson, playing frisbee with Ace. "I'm playing hide and seek!" he says.
"Okay? Where are your friends? Your parents?" she asks, full of concern. But really, nice lady, don't snoop!
Tim looks around, then spots a man who looks vaguely like him, reading his Kindle on the bench. "That's my uncle. My siblings are probably hiding, and searching! Please, good Samaritan lady, don't make me lose the game!" he asks, feigning innocence as much as possible.
The lady looks at the stranger, and furrows her brow at the sight of the headphones in his ears. She sighs and mutters, "Headphones? Doesn't he care about the kid?"
Of course he doesn't! He is probably a long-lost Gen Y hipster rediscovering reading! Tim thinks, but does not say. Instead, he says, "Shhhhh. Please, or Mike will find me."
The lady nods. "Okay, okay. Don't stray too far from your uncle, understand?"
"Of course! Mum taught me no more than 100 feet away from him! And scream if someone snatches me." He smiles.
Then, the lady parts with him, holding her son's hand. Tim sighs in relief. He turns back to stalk observe Dick Grayson.
He has already gone. Sh, shoot.
Tim throws himself onto the bed, dejected. Stalking spying in daylight is much harder than at night. Everyone seems to think Tim needs help. Why? He is just an eight-year-old, alone, hiding on the corner! Well, oftentimes people assume he is like, six, but he isn’t that small! He is still in the 25th percentile on the height chart.
And since when did Gothamites start giving a d-darn about anyone else!? This is not Metropolis! Maybe the city is starting to have hope, or the various charities and the less corrupt mayor make the city morale better, which is great, but stop holding Tim’s daytime stalking researching back!
Tim rolls to lie on his back, looking at his room ceiling.
Somehow, being alone and small hinders the daytime investigation.
He can’t correct his smallness.
Hmm. Maybe he can correct the other factor.
It takes Tim almost a month to select his candidate, which is filled with more research and observation of various people in various places. But this is a thing Tim is good at. Detective work. Maybe as good as Batman, if Tim says so himself.
Yep, during his investigation, and various lurking in many places, he was caught three times by good-will strangers. One of those was the GCPD Central Precinct captain, Jim Gordon. The man has a sharper sense compared to others. He pulled Tim from the bush. “Why are you filming my daughter's friend?”
Super scary. At least Tim got away with his budding parkour skill.
So, Tim’s candidate must fulfill these criteria:
- Being seen with this person makes Tim look less like a lost boy in need
- Won’t snitch him to CPS or the police
- Can be persuaded with Tim’s assets, which is money in cash form
- Has acceptable skills to survive in Gotham, day and maybe, night
And Tim has found his candidate. The candidate is walking down a busy street in Gotham Square. One boy, around twelve, is mingling in the crowd. He is walking so close to a finely dressed lady with a big, baggy shoulder bag that is so suitable for pickpocketing.
Tim himself is walking very close to the boy too, and when the boy reaches into the bag…
“Brother!” Tim shouts. “I finally caught you, come on, don’t leave me alone.”
The older boy quickly pulls his hand back. “What?”
The rich-looking lady turns around too at their voices, but she sees two boys, black hair, blue eyes, one saying “brother,” and thinks nothing of it, and continues on her own path.
The older boy looks at the walkaway lady, then turns back to Tim. “What the fuck? You shrimp. Are you from Ripley’s gang?”
“Jason Todd,” Tim says. “I have a proposition for you that pays more than the money in that lady’s purse.”
“How did you know my name? And who are ya working for, you crotch goblin?” Jason says when they move to an isolated alley.
“I do my research. Jason Todd. I have observed all the street kids, but you’re the only one who meets the operational requirements.” Tim stands tall and crosses his arms… and looks up, at a very slanted angle.
Jason opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens his mouth again.
Tim pulls out the first one hundred dollar bill, and the older boy’s eyes light up. “Take this and listen to my proposition.”
Jason looks downward at Tim, and slowly takes the bill. “…say it. But I don’t do dangerous jobs, whoever you are working for.”
“I’ve said I work for no one. I’m the one calling the shots.”
“Yeah, sure, halfling,” Jason snickers.
Tim stomps his foot. “Listen to me or give that bill back.”
Jason lifts a single eyebrow. “You think you can win against me?”
“I know your routine. Next time you pickpocket, I can do that move again. I know a lot. Where you sell your tires you jack, where you sleep, and more.”
Jason furrows his brow. “How can you know that much, kid?”
“I’m very good at observing, and hiding. Just… not in daylight.” He mumbles the last words.
Jason looks at Tim, and crosses his arms. “Okay. Let’s say I believe whatever shit you say. What is your contract, baby ninja?”
“I’m not a baby,” Tim shoots back, and takes a deep breath. “I need you to be my partner in gathering data on someone in the daytime. I can’t honestly do any observing in daylight. Everyone thinks I’m a lost child.”
Jason waves his hand in Tim’s direction. “Obviously.”
“Shut up.”
“Nope. Well, baby stalker, so you want me to join your… stalking? Why?”
“As you see with the big purse lady, being with you makes me look like brothers instantly. Less suspicious.”
Jason tilts his head. “Hm. True? But stalking who?”
“It’s not stalking. It’s data gathering. Of Dick Grayson.” Tim grits his teeth.
Jason tilts his head to another side. “Dick who? And who goes by the name Dick?”
Tim opens his phone and shows Jason. “Him! Dick Grayson! Ward of Bruce Wayne! The famous son of the Flying Graysons! The teen influencer with ten million followers! The voted digital prom king of 2025!”
“I don’t care about anything you say, but why stalk him. You’re too young to be a fan of any stupid glam kid, kid.”
“He’s not a stupid glam kid! He is a prominent voice about youth mental health and movement—” Tim stops his argument. “Anyway, you are compatible with my method. We look vaguely alike to be brothers. You have subterfuge skills to blend if need be. Jason Todd.”
“Kid, how do you know my full name?”
Tim shrugs. “I hacked the police and CPS data? It’s roundabout work, but I narrowed down unreported, lost-through-the-system kids until I've concluded that Jason Todd, who has his last official record in school two years ago, is you.”
Jason looks back at Tim. “How high is your IQ, kid? How’s a six-year-old pipsqueak pulling that off?”
“I’m eight! And maybe 176? I redid the test last month. It still fluctuates.”
“Baby genius stalker,” Jason mumbles.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Jason says. “And how much will you hire me as your brother in disguise, shrimp?”
Tim pulls the wad of cash out. “For each outing I need you. And my name is Tim.”
Jason is not really sure why he says yes to the craziest toddler, but he says yes anyway.
Not like Jason has a stable income, and the kid is loaded with cash. Win-win. Even though it is surreal that an eight-year-old wants him to help the kid do his “data gathering” on another rich kid. The kid avoids telling Jason why.
“You don’t have a phone, right? Okay, okay… let’s see. Let’s meet again at Robinson Park, ten o’clock next Saturday, east entrance near the stadium. He probably appears there.” The kid says while opening his stalking notepad.
So Jason is now waiting at the gate. Where is the kid?
“Hi!” The kid materializes beside him. Jason flinches.
“Shit, are you a ninja?”
“Not a ninja, just somehow really good at being unnoticeable, except in the eyes of good Gotham Samaritans,” Tim says. The kid is wearing a yellow jacket. He lifts a paper bag to Jason. “Wear this!”
Jason pulls what’s inside out. It is a red, nice-looking hoodie. The same brand as the kid’s jacket. Ugh. Rich folks. But Jason wears it anyway. “You bring the money you promised?”
“Yep! I will pay you after the observation today though,” the kid says. “There’s more in the bag.”
Jason looks inside the bag, and pulls the fucking latest-gen Waynephone out. “What’s this for?”
“Communication tool,” the kid says.
“You’re kidding me.” Kid’s gotta be loaded to use a Waynephone as a glorified walkie-talkie.
“Really! It’s yours!!” Tim says. “So next time I can text you, in case I need to change the time and date of the… birdwatching.”
Jason’s mouth is gaping again. “Kid, you can give me a cheap Nokia 3310 phone or somethin’.”
“Nah, this makes us really a pair.” Tim pulls his phone out. “Brothers!”
Yeah. Brother-for-hire act. “So, where’s your target?”
“He’s gonna be here soon with his dog, near the frisbee area.” Tim points to the far grass field.
Jason looks over there. “There’s an empty bench.” He offers his hand to the kid. “Let’s go.”
Tim looks at the hand. “What?” For once, the kid does not look like a crazy mastermind, but a six (actually, eight)-year-old kid.
“Holding hands. Like brothers?”
Tim slowly grabs Jason’s hand. Lightly. Jason squeezes back. “Come on, make the act believable.”
“Yea—yeah.”
And they walk in the park, holding hands.
“Zero getting held back by anyone thinking I’m a lost boy.” Tim breathes. “What a novel experience.”
Jason looks at the kid. Small, cute, helpless-looking, until he opens his mouth. Yeah, you would think the kid needs help.
“Even sitting here in the open like this, there is not some weird kind man sitting next to me, touching my shoulder and asking where my parents are.”
Shiiiiiiiit. Or you would think the kid is defenseless.
“Next time, please kick that man in the nuts,” Jason tells Tim. “I’ll teach you that move later.”
“O…kay?” Tim tilts his head, doesn't fully understand why. The kid is a contradiction of too smart and too innocent. Scary combination.
Then the kid perks up. “Look, Jason, look!” he whispers excitedly.
Jason looks in that direction. There is the teenager that Tim shows him the picture of a week ago. Dressed in a pink ugly sweater and tight jeans, but subjectively very good-looking enough that his rizz shines through all that fashion disaster. The man is walking with a towering black Great Dane. “Holy…”
“He’s so cool!” Tim says.
“That dog is so cool!” Jason says.
Then Tim slaps his shoulder (ow). “No. Don’t look. He will notice!”
“You told me to look!” he quips back.
“Now I tell you to not look!”
“Look or not look!”
“Don’t!”
Their squabble is so loud that passersby start looking at them, including Dick Grayson.
They both stop and look down, cheeks red. Dick Grayson makes a faint smile at them. What is the dude thinking right now?
So they feign playing on their phone, side by side.
Jason looks at Tim’s screen. Yep, he’s filming the guy, but wait, his phone is not pointing directly at the man.
“Where is your camera?” Jason whispers.
“In my jacket. It’s a small body cam that links to this phone,” Tim replies.
Budding baby bossy stalker.
They observe in silence for a while. Dick Grayson is playing frisbee with his giant Great Dane. One time he throws so far, the frisbee keeps flying and flying, at least 300 feet long, and the dog jumps to catch it.
“Sick move,” Jason mutters.
“385 feet estimate,” Tim mumbles. “The highest world record is 402 feet. Amazing. This is indirect support of my hypothesis.”
“What is your hypothesis?” Jason asks the kid.
He fidgets. “It’s a secret.”
“Okay, I won’t pry, baby boss.” Jason lifts his hands up.
Now they sit in silence. Tim observes the feed. Jason lets the time pass for basically free money.
Until Tim says, “Not… now. Not yet. If I’m really sure you are trustable, I will tell you.”
“It’s okay, baby boss.”
“I want to. I mean. I choose you because from all the candidates you are the most trustable among all the wandering kids.”
Wandering. Heh. Jason snickers. “You can call us homeless kids in dire need of money. I don’t mind. But really, me? You see me pickpocketing that lady.”
Tim does something on his phone, and now the camera feed auto-tracks Dick Grayson. “You are struggling, even more than other kids,” Tim says.
Jason turns to glare at him. What the fuck.
“Even though your… uh… street skill is really good,” Tim continues, not aware of Jason’s earlier internal fuck you. “You don’t do drug or gun deliveries. You choose the richest possible pickpocket target instead of the easiest. You never steal a tire from a car with a car seat. And one time, when you realize you also accidentally snatch a bag full of medication, I observe you trek the old gentleman’s bag to sneak the medication, including the money, back, and return empty-handed and hungry.”
Tim fiddles with his phone again, repeatedly capturing pictures of Dick Grayson, not realizing that Jason is stunned by how he perceives Jason’s personal code of conduct.
“I have lots of criteria for my candidates. But above all is: 0. They must be good people,” Tim finishes his explanation.
Jason is both flattered by being acknowledged, and terrified that some itsy-bitsy kid sees through him by unknown means of fucking observation.
“Who are you?” he says.
The child looks up at him, quizzical. “Tim Drake?”
Jason sighs.
In the end, their first partnership is, overall, a success. The kid says he collects some new data (a man playing with his dog?). And Jason gets his first payment.
“It’s a lot,” Jason counts the bills.
Tim just shrugs. “I have plenty. Not like I have something or some place better to spend.”
Rich-ass kid. Wait. “Kid, before we part, learn how to kick weird guys in the nuts first. Follow me.”
That night, while Jason is hiding to charge his super expensive phone with a portable charger, and experiencing the experience of a teenager scrolling through social media, he searches for Dick Grayson. Yeah, the guy is famous from what he has seen. Jason is not so digitally deprived that he doesn't know about the modern internet. While Jason usually has to be only a backseat user, lots of homeless kids nowadays have smartphones, maybe by stealing, by their prior possession (most homeless kids aren’t permanently homeless like him), or by dealing in more shadier but higher-reward business.
Yeah, as Tim says. Jason’s personal code of conduct hinders himself.
Hmm. This Dick is a big deal for his age. While most of his posts are usually some form of saying hello or updating the (not significant) details of his life to his followers, clips of mostly him doing very complicated dance moves and, admittedly, super awesome athletic skills, he also posts serious vids about how youth can start movements about world issues. Links to resources about the data, how to critically appraise information. How to counter fake information with reasoning and not anger. Yada yada.
Kinda impressive. Is this why the kid seems obsessed with the guy?
At that moment, there is a text ping on his phone.
Tim D.
Can you be my fake brother tomorrow too? In front of the Batburger near the arcade center. Eleven o’clock.
Jason T.
Yeah, sure.
Jason folds the brand hoodie into his bag, better hide it before some other kid steals it from him. He also needs to change Tim’s and his name in the contact list.
They meet near the Batburger. This time Tim gives him a hat. The kid himself is wearing glasses and a puffy blue jacket, making him look even more adorable. “Are you really eight?” Jason teases.
Tim huffs. Then they go inside the joint burger place and order the food.
“You only order the Robin Onion? This is why you are so small, come on!” Jason says and turns to the cashier. “Two double patty Batburgers and two XL Freeze Shakes, please.”
“Two double Batburgers and two Freeze Shakes,” the cashier says soullessly.
They carry their plates, and the kid chooses one booth that is exactly back to back with Dick Grayson’s.
“How do you know this guy’s routine?” Jason whispers.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhh,” is what Tim says.
Dick Grayson at first takes a photo of his milkshake, uploads it, then scrolls through his phone aimlessly while slurping the milkshake. At least Jason gives him one point for public decency for using headphones.
Tim tilts his phone to Jason. “He’s waiting for someone.” The text says.
“Who?” Jason types back, much slower than Tim because he is still not used to his phone yet.
Tim opens someone’s IG profile on his phone. It’s some dude’s account named @2fast2west. Normal guy, does not a striking amount of followers whatsoever. The profile says, “Mechanic⚡️Keystone.”
Tim taps the story. It shows yesterday the guy was fixing some gorgeous car in a garage in Keystone.
Then Tim pulls his phone back. What does this mean?
They wait for another half an hour. Jason keeps pushing Tim to eat more. Then one redhead man, Wally West, rushes into Dick Grayson’s booth. “Sorry I’m late!”
Dick pulls his headphone out, crossing his arms and sighs. “As you always are, Wally.”
“I was just obsessed with this car I was assigned at my place and I overslept!”
Overslept?
Wait. This guy lives in Keystone City, from fucking Kansas to here? And it doesn’t seem like he arrives by plane.
Jason turns to Tim. Tim is pressing some button in his ear.
The kid has a recorder built into his hat.
Is Baby Boss a spymaster? Is he a leader of a secret ninja organization, and actually a multi-centenarion old man sustained via a secret fountain of life? Wow, his imagination can run so wild.
Then Dick Grayson and Wally West start their conversation. It seems they are old friends, very close, maybe even best friends.
“How is it, being an adult with a working job?” Dick asks the man.
“Oh, so tired and cruel. The reality of adulthood and taxation and budgeting. I know Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry don’t mind that I stay with them indefinitely, but I don’t want to keep depending on those good people, and I want to be my own man,” he tells Dick.
Dick seems to be in deep thought. He chews and chews the shake straw for a long time, before he says, “Wally... I, I think I will separate from B after my wardship ends.”
Tim abruptly stands up. “What!?” he shouts.
Shiiit. What the hell, kid. Half of the diner turns to Tim, the two subjects behind them included.
Jason quickly pushes his shake down the table, making a bigger scene, to change the focus.
“Come on! Baby brother! It’s clear that Wonder Woman is better than Batman! She’s not taking any shit. She faces enemies head on with dignity and valor. And she knows when to talk! Calm your voice down! I’ll go get more napkins.” Now everyone looks at Jason instead of Tim when he stands up to get the napkins. Jason’s cheeks redden a little. Great, now he’s a simp.
Tim looks at him with a blank expression, then realizes it and sits down.
When Jason gets more napkins, there is also a voice in his hat. The kid puts a voice transmitter in his hat. Surreal.
Dick Grayson makes a small laugh. “Cute brothers. I miss those days, when we kept arguing about who’s the coolest.”
“Dick… what happened?” Wally says back.
A pause, until Jason almost reaches the table. He can see distress in Tim’s eyes.
Dick Grayson sighs. “Many things, Wally. But he keeps tightening and tightening his hold on me, while I want to explore and explore. Lately, I can’t even go with you guys on many… outings because he uses stupid reasons to keep me here. And he doesn’t listen to me at all. Saying I’m young. Saying I’m too reckless. Saying I don’t know my limits. How can I know my limits if I never test them!?”
Wally holds his friend’s shoulder. “That’s hard, man. Have you mentioned this to… the aunts and the uncles?”
“To Uncle Clark, a little. He says he will talk to B when, well, the weather is right. I’m afraid I’ll be eighteen before that. Or we either explode first. We just had another huge argument at… downstairs again.” Dick wipes his face. “I know I’m lucky after my parents’ death to have him. But now I can’t breathe, Wally. I want to be free. If being comfortable here means I have to live in a cage, I’d better be free… and alone.”
Even with his hands shaking, Jason sees Tim is typing something in his note app.
B = Batman = Bruce!
Outing = mission
Aunts and uncle = JL?
Downstairs = base (cave?)
*Clark mentioned again
1 YEAR LEFT!?!?!?
The conversation shifts back to lighter things by Wally. Jason and Tim quietly leave after that.
The kid is biting his nail.
Jason pulls the kid’s hand out. “Don’t do that, you will get a hangnail and it's a bitch.”
“I just received some very distressing information,” Tim says. “But to proceed further, I need to prove this hypothesis first! Jason! Ready for the next time I text you!” Tim turns to him.
Jason pushes the burger to the kid’s face. “Whatever. Finish this burger first. Eat more. Think less.”
The next time Tim needs Jason is actually four days later, in front of Wayne Tower. The weather is getting colder now.
Baby Boss
Can you meet me at Wayne Tower side entrance asap?
Jay
k
Jason spots Tim hiding near a bush at the small garden next to the entrance, shivering from the cold even in layered winter clothes. “How long have you waited here!?” He tries to take off his hoodie to give it to the boy, but Tim stops him.
“No need. You need that branded hood to make you blend,” Tim says. “And I might be observing the entrance for three hours?”
Jason scowls. “Gimme five dollars.”
Tim gives him five dollars. Jason rushes to buy a hot chocolate and runs back to Tim. “Drink.”
Tim sips it, now his cheeks start gaining color. “…Thanks. Now, Jason, sit with me.” Jason obeys his baby boss’s order. “Take this scarf.”
It’s a Gotham Academy issue scarf, matching what’s on Tim’s neck.
“Now we look like two schoolboys waiting for their father.”
“Wait, today is a school day. Don’t you have school?” Jason asks.
“I hacked the attendance record.” Tim sips the chocolate again. “Wow, Mom never makes this for me.”
Those two sentences ping something uncomfortable in Jason. But Tim tugs his hood lightly. “Be still. They’re gonna pass here soon.”
In the serenity of the winter garden, with him and Tim swallowed by the thick evergreen foliage of the Wayne Enterprises’s carefully tended plants, Jason starts hearing an argument.
“Dick.” A deep baritone voice is heard. “Don’t walk away. Turn back and finish this conversation.”
“It is finished!” Dick Grayson’s voice echoes back. “I said I won’t go to university.”
“You have a keen mind. It will be a waste not to—”
“Waste? Waste again. Bruce, stop controlling me. You never listen to my reasoning. Why would this time I listen to you—”
Bruce, as in Bruce Wayne? Jason makes a mental note.
“Dick, think—”
“I already thought about it! Don’t you understand. You can’t say ‘I have a keen mind’ in one sentence, then ‘You don’t use your head about this’ in the other.”
“Okay,” Bruce says. “Okay. It seems you are not ready to talk yet. I will go back to my office now.” Footsteps are heard.
“I said that I already talked—” Dick’s voice tapers. “—Aaand he’s gone. That thick-headed, stubborn, tone-deaf, overcontrolling man.” He swears, then tapers to a small voice. “This is such a mess…”
Jason fidgets. It’s a private moment of a man.
Dick Grayson's voice continues. “Why does trying to talk about me turning eighteen lead to this again… I’m gonna turn eighteen, and need to leave the house. Partner, don’t you want—” The man takes a deep breath, and sighs. Three big sighs. And walks away. Jason sees a glimpse of Dick Grayson’s back. He's also in a Gotham Academy high school uniform.
“I suspect I might find them talking here. Sometimes Dick Grayson comes to Bruce at Wayne Tower, but it’s irregular, so I have observed for three days. But it's worth it! Another indirect clue! Dick Grayson calls Bruce Wayne ‘partner’!” Tim says, rapid-fire, until he breaks himself with a light cough.
“Ain’t yesterday Gotham’s first snow?” Jason wonders.
“Yep. The white made hiding easier.”
“Hey, kid. Aren’t you, um, snooping too close?” Jason starts. “I feel like we start invading their privacy.”
Tim looks up at him, then looks down at the cup in his hand. “Of course. Since you are good,” Tim mumbles, before he says in a normal voice, “Hey, Jason. This is the third time you have helped me. I will now tell you the reason why.”
The kid has a big house. Sleek and modern. And as lifeless as a catacomb.
Tim leads him past the unused living room, cold corridor, to his room that screams “supervillain in the making. This is my origin story.” The stacks of folders, the computer, the hundreds of pictures of Batman and Robin on the wall.
“I, uh, am a Batman and Robin fan.”
Jason looks at the wall. “Obviously. With all these news cutouts…”
“It’s not from the news!” Tim says. “It’s my work! I have followed them for a year now.”
Jason looks closely at the picture of Robin drop-kicking the Penguin. “You mean, like what we did, but at night, at Batman and Robin?”
Tim nods eagerly. “Yes! It’s more like hiding still in the deepest, darkest corner and not breathing, which is more my forte than mingling in society in daylight.”
“Your parents don’t mind?”
“What they don’t know doesn't hurt them.”
“They seem to not know a lot of things. When is the last time they see your room?” Jason sits on the floor.
Tim shrugs. “Anyway, I think, I mean, I hypothesize that Dick Grayson is Robin.”
“Wait, really?” Jason says. It’s a big discovery for every Gotham kid. No Gotham kid would not be excited about anything Robin.
Tim opens his laptop and opens one clip. “I once saw Robin do this awesome quadruple somersault.” Tim pulls the video up. “Which only three people in the world can do, but only Dick Grayson has a matching physique with Robin. So my hypothesis is Dick Grayson is Robin.”
Jason watches the comparing clips of a very young Dick Grayson in Haly’s Circus, and a very blurry red, green, and yellow blob moving in the dark. “The Robin footage is quite…”
Tim sighs. “Yeah, it does not convey what my eyes see. And I’m a man of science. I want evidence that can convince others too before coming to the conclusion!”
“You’re gonna reveal Robin’s identity?” Jason alarms.
“No! No way,” Tim shouts back. “I’ll never do that!”
“Then why do you need clear evidence?”
“Because I’m a man of science.” He puffs his chest up. It’s so silly, and so cute.
“So this is why you’re stalking Dick Grayson,” Jason concludes.
“Yes! I’m looking for a definite link. Something irrefutable.” Tim pulls up another hundreds of Robin footage that probably has been recorded by the kid. “Something concrete like the somersault. Too bad Dick Grayson rarely does Olympic-level moves in public now.”
Jason thinks back to their previous stalking. “I dunno. I think you already collected plenty. The comparable athletic prowess, the context of what West said…”
“Not enough,” Tim counters back. “That is tangential, indirect, surrounding evidence that can be confounded, unlike the quad.”
Jason walks around the room, looking at many pictures. “More concrete than this, it’d only leave direct admission from him. Have you tried that?”
“You think he will be like ‘yep. It’s me. Robin!’” Tim deadpans. “That’s why I resort to stalking. The other method left is to compare the butt—”
“Please no.” Jason cuts off the unhinged baby boss. There is one different picture on the table, a Polaroid of baby Tim in kid Dick Grayson’s arms, in front of the Haly’s Circus tent. “You’ve met him!”
“Yes! When I was one year old. He held me. So warm. I remember he did the quad even then. So awesome. And his parents fell to death. So gruesome. I had nightmares about that scene a lot. Guess it was traumatic for my one-year-old brain, but my parents don't believe me. They said I’m too young to remember, but I do!” Tim rambles.
There are dozens of red flags rising inside Jason’s head from what comes out of the kid’s mouth. “I believe you,” Jason says.
“You are!?” Tim shouts, cheeks red from excitement.
“Yeah, baby genius.” He ruffles Tim’s hair. The kid swats his hand away, but he’s laughing, elated, like a normal kid, not a kid with hundreds of spy gadgets and thousands of pictures in an empty house. And in that moment Jason knows that the kid is not just a weird baby boss anymore. “I will help you. Promise.”
Tim nods, face red, hands clutching Jason’s red hoodie. “At least Dick Grayson is still easier to follow than Bruce Wayne. Batman really leaves no telling evidence.”
“Bruce Wayne is Batman!?”
Jay
Hey, boss, I want to join your night birdwatching.
Baby Boss
Really!?!?!?
Tonight at the rooftop of an abandoned building on Block S.
Jason is hiding in the dark shadow, observing the baby boss observing the bat and the bird with a high-end expensive camera.
“You don’t use that in your daytime,” he whispers.
“I’ve tried. It makes me even more noticeable,” Tim whispers back while clicking his camera rapidly. The subject is Robin jumping and flipping to land on one thief with a gun, then knocking that guy out.
“Dope shit,” Jason mutters.
“Right? Robin is super cool.” Tim points the camera to Robin consoling the crying girl, while Batman talks with her mother. “…I used to wonder how amazing it is to have a Robin as my older brother. Imagine the cool things we could do together.”
Jason laughs, quietly. “Yeah, every Gotham kid’s dream. Eh? Used to?”
“Yep. Used to.” The kid is smiling. What is he smiling about?
After that, Batman and Robin use grappling guns to swing themselves to another area. Tim himself brings Jason to another rooftop, where Tim shows him the police radio he intercepts the signal from.
“Today they seem to use what I call algorithm 23-i for patrol routes. I can’t catch up with them when they move fast, but I can guess when they will patrol back here. The interception is in case there is a rogue appearing,” Tim finishes with a light cough.
Jason pushes a thermos to him. “Drink this. Hot chocolate.”
“Thanks.” Tim looks down. “It’s a new thermos.”
Jason shrugs. “Lately I have a lot of spare money.”
“But—”
“Shaddap. My money. I can spend it on whatever I want.”
The kid sips the chocolate, and his face looks better again. Lately the kid seems paler. Jason throws him another scarf.
After that, Jason meets Tim almost every night, and in daytime, Saturday and Sunday.
They are in a conversational zone, eavesdropping on Dick Grayson talking with one red-haired woman in glasses. Tim has informed Jason that this is GCPD Central Precinct Captain’s daughter, Barbara Gordon. Her father is most likely to be the next commissioner next year.
Well, mostly it’s Tim eavesdropping. Jason is absorbed in all the books. Oh, books, my love.
“Heard you and the big guy fight again?”
Dick looks at her sharply. “Where did you hear that?”
Barbara hums while her hand is tidying her study notes. “Maybe from a patrol officer, who told his lieutenant, and then that lieutenant maybe told his captain, who told her daughter over dinner.”
Dick groans. “Come on, that means all the cops know that—”
Come on, say it, say Batman and Robin.
“—that the duo aren’t doing well,” Dick finishes.
“Is this enough?” Jason types on his phone and shows it to Tim.
Tim shakes his head. My god. The baby boss will only accept either Robin doing the quadruple somersault on camera again, or Dick Grayson frankly saying he is Robin, which is harder than it looks. It seems the cape community has an instinct to at least not talk about it in the face.
“Me and B—”
“B and I,” Barbara corrects.
“Shut up, you grammar nazi. Me and B honestly can’t seem to be civil to each other these days.”
“I know. I’ve heard. I’ve seen it in front of my eyes,” she says. “But I also know that you two still care for each other greatly, Dick. When you reach eighteen, do you really want, or really think Bruce wants, to cut all ties? To leave a home you grew up in, to wander without a nest?”
Dick Grayson takes a long time before he answers. “Of course I don’t, Babs. But–but if things keep going on like this, each word we throw at each other, each wound we enact, I’m afraid if I am here, it will chip the love I have for my—” he pauses again. “So maybe I’d better be gone before all of it crumbles away.”
After that, Jason and Tim are sitting outside, drinking some warm drinks in the cold.
“That’s kinda sad,” Jason says.
Tim makes a single cough. “Yeah.”
“I hope they learn to talk before it gets worse. Living alone is, contrary to popular YA novels, not fun at all,” Jason says to the air.
Tim looks up at Jason. “Jay? Why did you run away from foster?”
Jason looks back. “You know? Of fucking course you know.” Jason sips his hojicha. “They are simply a front for child labor, so I kicked one of them in the nuts and ran away. Don’t ever trust the Gotham foster system.”
Tim looks at the kids that come and go in the library with their parents. “So it’s not good, as I’ve researched,” the kid says, and it’s a long while before he talks again. “Before I hired you, I had many close calls, just a slip, and many kind-hearted people would call CPS on me.”
So the kid knows his situation.
Tim sips a hot chocolate again. “But I don’t want to go to foster. I’m mostly fine by myself, like you.”
Jason looks at the lonely kid, who hires another lonely kid to be his brother. “Mostly fine may be a bit too overstretched. Probably just sometimes fine,” he says. “But we have each other now, ’kay.”
He raises his fist to Tim.
Tim stares at the fist.
“Fist bump, bro,” Jason laughs.
Tim bumps his fist back.
Jay
Hey boss, wanna meet?
Baby Boss
Sry, not today.
Jay
Yo Timbo, what r u doin?
Jay
It’s been two days.
Jay
Did you do birdwatching yesterday? B and R caught Mr. Freeze!
Jay
Tim.
Jay
(Incoming call)
Jay
(Incoming call)
Jay
Your house in 30 min. If you see this, just send something.
“The number you have dialed is not reachable at the moment. You can leave a message after—”
Jason cuts the call. He has already used Tim’s phone to leave at least ten messages.
He has been giving the kid every over-the-counter drug he can find, but the kid’s fever is still high. He is still breathing shallowly, and does not stop coughing.
“Tim, Tim.” Jason shakes the kid up. “Drink some more water.”
The kid’s eyes slowly open. It takes time until they focus on Jason’s face, and he slowly sips from the straw Jason brings to his mouth.
After three sips, the kid vomits all the water out.
Fuck. This is bad. Jason knows from experience that when a very sick person cannot drink, they need a hospital.
“Tim, I need to bring you to the hospital.” Jason pats the kid’s cheek. This is Bristol. There is no way Jason can bring the kid to some shady underground clinic in an alley, and he doesn’t want to. This is serious.
Tim’s eyes glaze, and he slowly says, “N-no. I don’t want to.”
“You need to,” Jason tells the kid. The cheek under his hand burns. He should have brought the kid to some clinic weeks ago. He knew that all that coughing was not good news.
A small hand grabs Jason’s own hand. “No. CPS gonna…”
“Kid, you can be concerned about that later. Don’t take my word too seriously. I bet a cute, smart kid like you is gonna be taken care of by some good rich family.”
Tim makes a series of hacking coughs again, then his dry mouth says, “Not that, Jas’n. If I were sent to foster, would I ever see you ag’n?”
Jason bites his lips. The kid is smart. The answer is an absolute no. They are not real brothers. There is no reason at all the system will stick them together, even if Jason is willing to be in the system. And more, if Tim’s new emergency foster is good, nice people, there is no way they will let Tim interact with a street rat like him. And if they are bad shits like people Jason has met…
Fuck the system. Fuck the Drakes for abandoning this awesome, lonely kid.
“Don’t leave me, Jason,” Tim pleads with him, in a small voice, and clutches Jason's hand tight.
Dick has been feeling something is off for a while.
Not about him and Bruce, yes, that is so off. But he feels like there is something he overlooks, or someone is watching him.
But he does not see anyone suspicious, only normal Gothamites, every time.
He can’t exclude Bruce spying on him in some way, and that suspicion sours everything even further.
Dick sighs. He knows he is easy to anger, but Bruce doesn’t make himself easy to talk with either. Dick is thinking that when he walks across the street to his favorite donut shop, he feels something sharp at his lower back.
Shit.
“Dick Grayson.” A voice, not quite low, comes from behind him. “Walk into the alley on the left.”
Dick follows the instruction from behind him. Kidnapper? Ransom? Dick holds off on pressing the S.O.S. button yet, because fuck you, B, and also because he may be able to one-up whoever is behind him in that alley without revealing his identity.
When he walks into the deep, dark alley, he notices the knife behind him is shaking, and the perpetrator’s breathing is quite rapid. Amateur? An amateur who can approach him from the back? So Dick takes a chance to turn around—
—and sees a boy in a red hoodie, hands shaking, voice frightened.
“I know you are Robin, I have all the fucking evidence,” the kid says, now holding the knife with two shaking hands. “I will fucking leak it if you don’t help us. You are Robin. Robin is magic. Robin doesn’t betray kids.”
The boy’s blue eyes are full of unshed tears and distress.
“So you will help my brother without separating us!”
Tim is dutifully sipping the water, in the hospital bed.
“Sip the water before you continue,” Jason tells him in the hospital ward. “You have a fucking influenza pneumonia on top of walking pneumonia. I know that coughing is a bad omen.”
Tim sips the water until it is empty while staring at Jason menacingly. He breathes, coughs, and breathes, then says, “I can’t believe you cut me first in proving my hypothesis.”
Jason snickers. He is sitting on the visitor chair backward. “Kiddo. You were so stubborn in finding concrete evidence that the only thing left was to make Dick Grayson say ‘Yes, I am Robin’ to your face. If you had accepted your own evidence before, you would have concluded your research already.”
Tim scowls at Jason. Jason laughs.
“I can say it for both of you again,” Dick Grayson says from the farther seat. “Yes, I am Robin.” He smiles at them. Tim can’t really hide his blush at his hero talking to him in person.
Someone knocks on the door, then it opens, and Bruce Wayne steps in (eek!).
He looks at Tim and Jason, gives them a smile. “Hello again, Tim. Hello again, Jason.” He waves. It’s much more subdued than Brucie Wayne’s demeanor, but also not like Batman’s wave, if Batman ever waves. Just one socially awkward man.
Tim waves back gingerly. Jason only makes one nod.
Then Bruce turns to Dick. “Dick. Can, can we talk? Outside.”
Dick sighs and sits up. “Yeah, sure.” He solemnly stands up, and they both walk out of Tim’s extra private, sponsor-by-the-Waynes hospital room.
Five seconds after the door closes, Tim turns to Jason. “So they are really… better?”
Jason tilts his head. “I guess. It seems when Dick called him to be our, uh, foster parent in an emotional outburst, they realized they did love each other.”
Jason fakes his voice lower in tone, not unlike Dick Grayson’s. “I know you don’t care about me anymore, but please care about these kids, please let them be together.”
Then he presses his voice even lower. “Dick, I do care about you. Always. And I promise you, I won’t separate or let anyone separate them. Let me be a, a father to them and to you. Yada yada. They are not super close, but I think that moment builds a new foundation for them. I might also scream at them for how stupid they both are, while showing a clip of Dick himself talking about how not to let anger talk through you, heh.”
Tim absorbs all that. At least one good thing comes from this. “So… I guess I’m really the ward of the state now.”
“Yeah, the cat is out of the bag. Or the cats are still somewhere in Africa and don’t realize they are going to face charges of criminal neglect soon,” Jason says.
“Jay,” Tim says, voice harsh.
Jason stops, and sighs. Tim knows Jason doesn’t like Tim’s parents, but Tim is not ready to listen to the reasons yet, even if he knows for a long time why.
“Sorry, kid. But hey, I’m a ward of the state too. Well, I always am. Just get pulled back into the system. But now I'll be with you, if that Wayne guy keeps on his promise.”
At least two good things come from this. He and Jason are now practically brothers, and when Tim is discharged they are going to live in the same house.
Tim can’t help laughing. “And it’s wild that you trekked back into the city to threaten Dick Grayson, without knowing that his house is next to my house.”
Jason blushes. “How could I know! Your house is like in the middle of fucking nowhere. ‘Next to’ is a seven-minute walk across the forest!”
“We are going to live with Batman and Robin,” Tim says excitedly.
Jason smiles. He himself can’t hide his own excitement. Tim can see it. “Yeah, but that Dick says we can’t stalk them like we did anymore.”
Tim thinks. “Hey, Jason.”
“Hm? Baby boss.”
“I have a new hypothesis: Batman and Robin can’t stop us. You in, Jason?” Tim raises his fist.
Jason looks at Tim’s small fist, and his brother makes a mean grin. “Deal.” He bumps his fist back.