Work Text:
TWO YEARS AGO
Jason slammed his palm on the patio table, Ikea-knockoff chair ten pounds away from collapsing as he leaned forwards. “You got two minutes.”
Two minutes until what? Steadying what remained of his flat white, Tim tried again. "About what B said last night-"
-"Yeah, what about it?"
He stifled a sigh. "You know I don't work for him right?"
"Sure."
"And if you could stop shutting me down for five seconds-"
"Once a goody two shoes," Jason said, all malicious sarcasm, "Always a goody two shoes until someone fucking dies."
That stung more than it had any right to and Tim knew Jason was trying to get a rise out of him. "Fine. What do I have to do for you to-”
He was interrupted by a wet tearing noise, similar to a knife slicing through canvas tarp. Stunned, Tim looked directly behind Jason. A perfectly rectangular green portal swirled innocuously back.
“Yeah later," Unperturbed, Jason stood up, chair scraping loudly against unfinished asphalt,"I gotta take this call."
Tim hastily followed suit, grabbing Jason’s wrist. "Jason - what the hell - you aren't just going into a shady Lazarus-pit coloured portal."
"The hell do you know," Jason twisted his arm, "Let the fuck go-"
"No." He yanked both of them away from the swirling green death trap, "We haven't finished talking."
"Says the fucking boy scout!" Jason took two more aggressive steps forward, half bathed in neon green.
Tim pulled back with a grunt, well beyond verbal negotiation the same moment Jason pushed forwards, and it occurred belatedly to Tim that Jason heavily outclassed him in weight as both of them fell through the portal.
Tim crossed his arms, suspended mid-air. This wasn't his first transdimensional road trip and sadly, wasn't even his first transdimensional road trip abandoned by Jason; the only difference between this and the last eyes-and-teeth-and-brimstone-hell dimension was the green.
Not just faintly green but green in every sense, feel, and even taste of the word. The human eye can see the most shades of green, came an unbidden thought as he examined the maze spiralling downwards like a child’s depiction of a wizard’s tower. Stairs filled the absence of ceiling, melting into nothingness. Non-euclidean shapes, the human brain making sense of shapes in spaces that didn’t exist, as opposed to spaces that did.
The tower unfolded in real time, a nightmarish hybrid of HR Geiger and Escher’s wildest delusions dialed to twenty. Fleshy walls pulsed every few seconds, mimicking human breathing, interspaced with out-of-place symmetrical windows.
Curious, Tim let his gaze drift towards a window-
The window gazed back.
Nope. Fuck Jason, but also especially, fuck Jason. Jason had found his way in, he could find his way out.
Tim floated, pushed himself back upwards, the tower resisting in dizzying kaleidoscopic fractals. Discerning up from down became a losing battle - green edges blurred into spongey stucco and the smell of mint and citrus - he heard something call his name, could taste it, senses clashing, blending together-
There - the exit. He needed out, he had to get out right now-
-Tim braced himself, arms protecting his head as he passed through the portal-
And stumbled into an ordinary living room.
Adrenaline racing, he turned a full one-eighty degrees, elbows knocking over two empty cardboard boxes and an ostensibly neon green and chrome vacuum. Dark grey carpet covered most of the tiny 250 square foot apartment, dishes, Cup Ramen, and a few crumpled Batburger wrappers piling the far counter and sink, dim fluorescent lights flickering off-beat. The portal still hummed ominously in the room dead center.
Half a minute later, the apartment door swung open with a soft bang. Tim ducked behind the pile of cardboard boxes labelled "FENTONWORKS - DON’T TOUCH”.
"Jason I think I found-" the voice hesitated, a decidedly not Jason stranger popped into view. Male, possibly early twenties, pale and dark-haired, clutching a pizza box like a lifeline. The stranger, suspect, took a few steps forwards then stopped. “No no no, where is he? Jason’s going to kill me.”
Tim watched the suspect pull out a brick of a grey cellphone, carefully place the pizza box on the counter, and run out of the apartment. So they clearly had connections with Jason. Civilian or dealer? Accomplice or solo? He needed more information. Discreetly, he examined the topmost Fentonworks box, flipping through the copy of GHOST HUNTING FOR DUMMIES for any identifying details.
The door abruptly burst open a second time, unfamiliar wide blue eyes staring straight at Tim.
Well, fuck. He casually closed the chapter titled How to Remove Ectoplasm From Your Carpet (And Also Anything That Looks Like a Carpet, Including Pet Fur). Then, belatedly - “Uh, hey.”
“Hi?” The suspect took two hesitant steps forward, scrutinizing Tim two seconds longer before his expression brightened, as if suddenly recognizing a familiar face. "Oh, you made it back!"
"Y- yeah, sure." Tim smoothed his surprise into something neutral, mirroring the suspect’s unusual friendliness. "Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
"It’s Danny.”
“Right, Danny. What did you mean by ‘made it back’?”
“You’re Tim right? Jason’s ‘nosy’,” Danny whipped out the air quotes, “Brother. His words, not mine. He said you might have followed him through the portal but lost track of you after that.”
Was that concern from Jason? Tim would circle back to that later. With Jason. "And where is he?”
"Uh, he’ll be back soon, any minute now. He's and I quote him again, ‘still fighting his demons or something’ right now."
Tim distinctly recalled the spiralling green tower, the fleshy nightmare walls, and The Eye. “Jason is what.”
Instead of verbally answering, Danny shrugged, pulling out a can of Dr Pepper from the minifridge. "You're free to chill while we wait, sorry I wasn’t expecting guests. Did you want ummm- pizza! Did you want some pizza?"
"No thanks."
"Are you sure? I bought it with Jason's money and he said-"
"In that case, sure.” A pause. “What kind?”
“Pepperoni I think?” Danny opened and closed several drawers in succession before producing two crinkled paper plates. "Anything to drink?"
"If you have another Dr Pepper." If Tim was going to die from post-transdimensional Dr Pepper, he would blame it on Jason.
"How about napkins? A fork?"
"You eat pizza with a fork?"
"No... but I have a friend and she like, slices the pizza, vegan gluten-free pizza, into small pieces, then dabs the greasy parts with a napkin so you get used to weird stuff."
Tim pointedly ignored the weird swirling green portal. "Sure."
They ate in silence, just the sound of Danny chewing quietly and occasionally sending extremely unsubtle, nervous glances at Tim as if he would spontaneously combust from the lack of conversation. "Did you want anything else? I have water and more pop, and Jazz- that's my sister - she bought this spicy water, I forgot its actual name but I have some of that too."
“I’m good.” Tim tried to make eye contact with Danny, who immediately looked down at his worn sneakers. Clearly nervous, a simple profiling suggested. Confrontation avoidant, stilted social skills like someone trying too hard to fit into a human-shaped hole. It was easy to see how somebody so out-of-place slotted into Jason's extracurriculars. "Danny," he prompted, already regretting opening this line of conversation. How many times did he try to help, to do the right thing - when everything was said and done, where even was the line anymore? "Can I ask you a serious question?"
Danny straightened. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"
A piece of half-filled assignment paper wedged in PLANETARY SCIENCES VOL 3 textbook read Danny Fenton at the top. "How do you know Jason?"
“Oh well, funny story, I bumped into him while I was looking for somewhere to rent. Not that I was looking for Jason specifically, I just happened to be nearby to help. Not that I didn’t want to help or anything, totally not a problem, I had nothing better to do, so it all worked out."
Pushover, Tim amended, a terrible liar. Easy to read, easier to manipulate. Socially isolated.
Lonely.
"And you're sure you’re okay and not threatened in any way?"
"Nah, we’re chill friends. Well, not really friends. Like chill dudes who chill."
Was this a modern friends with benefits term? Danny was, unfortunately or fortunately, attractive enough to fit the mold. "Like a non-exclusive relationship?"
"A what?" Danny gaped, then the tips of his ears turned a bright red. "No- no! Not like that, no offense to Jason, but he gives like peak toxic masculinity kinda vibes, if you know what I mean."
"I'm bi," Tim accidentally offered, unsure why he even felt the need to correct something unrelated to him.
"Oh! That’s- that’s great, I mean, not to say I don't think you're also peak masculine, unless you don't want to be?"
"No, I'm just saying anyone can be- forget about it."
"I mean, I'm bi too, well pan technically, at least that's what Sam says, she's my best friend, I mean ex technically since we broke up last year but like mutually due to long distance - uh, not that I’m looking for someone-" Danny suddenly glanced at the window, then the portal, then the pizza box for some reason. "Wow, is it getting hot in here or is it just me?"
The apartment was freezing actually, but Tim had just enough empathy to feel bad. He feigned interest in his paper plate as Danny struggled a few seconds with the window before finally cranking open the frame with a loud thunk. A blast of stale air hit the apartment, the distinct smell of Gotham alleyway dumpster and summer sewage. "So where are we exactly?"
"Oh," Danny's shoulders sagged in relief. Then he faintly smiled, wiggling his fingers at the neon billboards barely visible past fog-stained glass. "You’re looking at the best view facing Gotham Upper West Side."
"I live on the West Side." Well, one of his condos was there, though again Tim was unsure why he felt the need to tell Danny that. “It’s a brand new two-bedroom.”
"Neat! The view has got to be better than this, then.”
Be normal Tim, just have a normal conversation and play it cool. Segway naturally into questions about Jason and the portal, gather information properly, damnit. "It has a nice gym too. Jason doesn’t have any places as nice as mine."
"Uhhh.. sure?”
And I can cook too, Tim wanted to say, I can cook almost as good as Jason. Tim had amassed a growing library of simple, health-conscious recipes after the whole Steph 'raw' calamari fiasco. “So… do you… cook?”
“Not really,” Danny admitted, then hesitated, “Is this about the pizza getting cold?”
“That’s normal. I eat cold pizza all the time.” Not by choice.
“Wait, hold on, I just saw this youtube short,” Danny picked up the box of remaining four slices, and placed the highly flammable cardboard next to the antique gas stove, “You know those life hacks about reheating pizza with a pan? But this one actually works.”
“...Do you not have a microwave?”
“I did, but I had to reuse the pieces for a - a school project.”
“It’s fine, I’m already full. I don't need-”
"Relax," Danny drawled, a bit of a midwestern accent leaking through, flipping the handle of a busted up frying pan twice before placing it directly on the burner, "I got this."
In near-comical slow motion Tim watched Danny turn the antique stove knob. The spark igniter clicked once, twice-
And exploded in a giant fireball fanning out in a plume of black smoke, the apartment flooded with the smell of charcoal and burning candles.
Danny coughed a few times, then vacated the sink premise. "Wow. That was-"
Miraculously, the greasy pizza box remained unscathed. None of the utensils and paper plates were harmed either, no warning hiss of additional gas leaks. Tim meticulously scanned the rest of the fire hazards before doing a double-take. "...Danny?"
"Yeah?"
Bits of flame were slowly spreading from the bottom hem of Danny’s VOYAGER 1 shirt. "Your shirt is on fire."
"Shit!” Caught between fight or flight, Danny instead chose to stare directly at Tim like a deer invited to an all-you-can-eat venison buffet, “Shit, what do I do?"
Tim’s training kicked in. "Okay, stay calm and listen closely-” And Danny was now on the floor. “What are you doing?"
"Stop drop and roll, that's what they taught you in school."
"Not on the highly flammable carpet?" Tim stamped out the budding carpet flames, then went back into first-aid mode. "I'm going to have to take off your shirt."
"What, no! It's my favourite shirt."
“Stop moving. I have to check for second and third degree burns, do you have a first aid kit?”
“I’m a broke college student! Do I look like I have a first aid kit? It’s beneath the box that says ‘Fenton Wipes’ on it by the way.”
“Okay let me check for burns first then-" The sprinkler system fizzled in warning before drenching the apartment in cold water as Tim struggled to get Danny to stop imitating raw calamari. Despite being at most one-hundred and sixty pounds soaking wet, Danny somehow evaded his rear wrist lock not once, but twice. “Stop moving and lie flat properly!”
“No! I already told you where the first aid kit is!”
“What does that have to do with-”
-"I’m back bitches, Frostbite wanted me to give you this box of frozen-" Jason paused mid-step, still halfway between the portal door and burning apartment, staring first at the sprinkler and the belated fire alarm beeping, then the burn-marks on the carpet, and finally at Tim pinning Danny down with a fistful of wet Voyager 1 shirt, "What'd I miss?"
“So,” Jason set two cans of Miller 64 down on the industrial coffee table. “What do you think of Danny?”
Tim pretended not to notice the drinks. Jason’s safehouses always smelled like blood and gunpowder - he didn't want to add cheap beer to the mix. "Don’t drag him into your bullshit Jason."
A sly smile. "Why, you worried?"
Yes because Jason was involved. "Seriously, whatever it is you have Danny involved in-"
"Chill, boyscout. I just need realms tech support once in a while."
So Danny was running interference for Jason? "You know O can-"
-"Fuck!" Jason slammed a fist on the coffee table with a glass-shattering thwack, standing up. "Do you have to do this right now? What part of back the fuck off didn’t you get?"
“I’m just trying to-”
Jason threw a punch like an inebriated teenager. Ducking the subsequent sloppier jab, Tim got up and pivoted two steps to the right, retaliating with a simple left hook, jaw level. Jason seemed just as surprised as Tim when the punch landed, Jason staggering past the couch, bowling over the remainder of the coffee table.
“Fuck,” Jason wheezed, slowly pulling himself into a seated slump after five deep breaths, “What’d you do that for?”
It felt a little unfair taking advantage of someone clearly inebriated - Tim helped pull his predecessor back onto the couch in a horizontal sprawl. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
"You sure? Because-”
"Yeah. I don’t wanna talk about it."
“...All right. What do you want to talk about?”
"How about those twenty questions you did?"
“It’s not twenty questions if you don’t answer a single question, Jason.”
“Nah. I mean your twenty-one questions with Danny.”
Tim turned around to see Jason with an out-of-place shit-eating grin. "... Fuck you."
"No, fuck you," Jason echoed back, "If you wanna get his phone number, say please."
"Why would I need his phone number?" Why the hell had he been worried? "You're making it weird."
"You’re making it weird. Listen, Danny’s a good guy. He’s not involved in any - in any of my stuff okay."
Tim grew quieter. "You know B-"
"Fuck." Jason inhaled sharply, "I know- I fucking know okay. I just, I-"
He bit back a sigh. "No, I get it. It's not like we get along or anything so I get it."
"Fuccckk," Jason echoed, "And he gets all condescending and shit man," he exhaled, releasing all the tension. "I just can't."
Tim understood more than Jason would ever know or empathize with. “Sure.”
"For what it's worth, I’m sorry."
"Okay?"
"You sure don't make it easy to apologize to," Jason muttered, pressing a beer can against his sore jaw, "I'm sorry about what I put you through, okay? There, I said it."
Tim could almost laugh at the irony of how much he wanted that two years ago. "We all had shit to we were going through."
"Fucking preach to that," Jason raised his unopened Miller towards the window outlining Gotham in its perpetual crime-ridden glory, "We all had shit we were going through."
It wasn’t quite companionable silence, but Tim was tired of words, and speaking, and placating. He was tired of playing mediator and voice of reason just because he stayed, tired of compensating for himself and others, tired of never being enough. Just once in his life, he wanted someone to look at him and not expect anything.
"Anyway," Jason surprisingly interrupted the un-companiable silence, "Call Danny."
"Why…?"
"Cause," Craning his neck upwards, Jason leveled Tim a long stare, "You know what? You figure it out yourself."
Well, Tim was gonna do some research anyway tonight so might as well. He passed over his cell. "Alright give me his damn number."
Jason squinted at the bright screen in the dark, hunching over to carefully key in a few letters and numbers with his sausage fingers before handing it over. "You’re fucking welcome."
"Thanks." Tim hit save then did a double-take. "Did you just send a heart emoji from my phone to Danny?"