Detective 2.0

"We know we're right, but what's the point in being right if we're not willing to fight for it?"

“I have rudimentary plans. Stark’s early designs, the ones he ended up scrapping as he improved on the arc reactor.” Bruce reached over to rest his hand heavy at the back of Tim’s neck at that wicked little smile, pinching the hard knob of vertebrae there. The boy could use some encouraging when it came to that, his more puckish impulses. He was entirely too serious, sometimes. And when his puckishness could be combined with a learning experience, why not indulge it? “I’ll send them to you and you can see what your changes would be. We can work them into a model together, if you like.”

Bruce felt the glance when he dismissed the idea of speaking to Stephanie. Tim was an insightful boy, but it didn’t even require insight to know the situation between the Spoiler and the Batman, much less Steph and Bruce. It couldn’t be easy for Timothy, stuck between the bobbing boat of his girlfriend and the looming lighthouse of his father, but these things were inevitable. 

Tim gave a measured response to Bruce’s question, and after listening to what his child had to say, Bruce was left with the nagging feeling that neither of them had really said or heard what he’d truly wanted. He didn’t know how to approach that, though. Connection could be hard for Bruce sometimes, despite his best efforts, and newly out of Gotham for the foreseeable future he was feeling … jangled. Add to that the fact that so many of his faction were in the country and that made things even more complex.

“I haven’t visited the Winter Soldier they’re holding, no. But Steve Rogers mentioned I might talk to him.” It was a reasonable request, and Bruce understood why; he was, indeed, an objective view in all this. But instead of pursuing that line of conversation, he said, “You’re not entirely sure about being here, are you. What part of it’s bothering you?”

...

The little smile widened and Tim grinned up at him. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” Really like that. Bruce was a great mentor. He’d taught Tim so much and encouraged him to always strive to become better. But he was also busy and Tim didn’t like demanding his time. So any opportunity to work on something outside of their normal vigilante work was always welcomed. And he was looking forward to what they would come up with. Of course, Stark would never see it, but Tim couldn’t help feeling a bit of satisfaction at being able to improve upon his designs. 

He could see that his response hadn’t been satisfactory to Bruce and a moment later his intuition was confirmed when the other changed the subject from the Winter Soldier back to Sokovia. “You could tell that easily, huh?” Bruce always had a way of seeing through any pretense. He ran a hand through his hair, considering the question and how to best put his feelings into words. “I guess I still haven’t quite come to terms with leaving Gotham on its own. It was only a matter of time before we got forced out and we can do more good here than in a cell somewhere. And we have to get to the root of the whole problem, the big picture. I know that. But...” He sighed. “I just hate not being able to do anything about it.” He could only imagine how Bruce himself felt about the whole situation. Gotham was Batman’s city more than anyone’s and having to leave it unprotected was probably excruciating for him. 

So they were doing this. Stephanie hadn’t wanted to do this, had been practicing avoidance so to avoid blowing a gasket and blowing this way higher than it needed to be, but it would seem they were going to steam-roll right into it. Confrontation was never fun, was not her strong suit for the fact that the Stephanie Brown special was screwing everything up and getting too hot-headed too fast. But here they were. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever, but had hoped that maybe the conversation would happen after the stewing had stopped, but she hadn’t been so lucky. Stephanie paused, halfway through the room en route to the adjoining bathroom, slowly rotating on the spot to face him again. “I’m fine,” she stated again, a little more firmly this time, a little more agitated. “I’ve been working, I’m just busy. It’s — look, I’m sleeping when I can.” Maybe a little white lie there. Sleep had been elusive for….a long time now, that was nothing new, but it had been especially bad since their encounter with Shiva. That had brought up all kinds of problems, brought back all kinds of things she tried to repress about another near death experience that she tried so hard not to think about. The nightmares from that had never really stopped, came back in full-force after a second near death experience stirred up all that shit she preferred not to deal with. She could still hear the terms of the deal that Tim had made with Shiva along with everything else, and that was just the goddamn cherry on top of why she was having trouble sleeping and why she was so on edge. “It hasn’t been days.” Maybe it had been, since she’d gotten a full night’s rest and not just a little stretch when she passed out in a lull in her schedule. She wasn’t really keeping track Maybe Tim was.  “Avoiding what, exactly? Let’s just dive right into it.” May as well, since they were already here. No going back now, backpedaling wasn’t her style. 

...

“You keep saying that. That you’re fine,” he countered, voice quiet, “But you’re... I just think... look, it’s okay if you’re not.” This wasn’t coming out right. He just wanted her to know that he was there for her, that she could talk to him. “I know. I know you’ve been working.” Between patrols and her job with the city paramedics, it was a marvel she’d been sleeping at all. Though perhaps resting would be a better word for it. He didn’t think he’d quite consider the tossing and turning and waking up screaming from nightmares anywhere close to a decent sleep. “But taking all these extra shifts isn’t exactly helping with your sleep schedule.” Or lack thereof. “And I know I’m one to talk, but Steph, it’s really starting to take a toll on you.” The circles under her eyes were getting darker and darker, and more than once she’d quite literally passed out from exhaustion after getting back from work. Aside from being terse where she was normally easy going, it didn’t seem to be affecting her during patrol yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time and he didn’t want her to get hurt because of it.

He raised an eyebrow. “It has been days. Six to be exact. And probably more than that since you’ve had a full nights sleep without nightmares.” He didn’t like to pry; she would tell him about the nightmares when she was ready, or at least he hoped so. But it was clear they were a lot worse than what she’d been letting on for... he didn’t even know how long. And that was the worst part of it: he had no idea how long she’d been suffering in silence. And for what? To not worry him? Because she didn’t think he’d understand? He should have noticed, should have known. 

Peter laughed then tilted his bottle at Tim “To having good ideas.” then he took a drink from it. “No, they’ve been raiding known vigilantes homes. I’m not sure how they found out who we are and where we live, but it’s been putting on a lot of pressure.” Peter explained with a sigh. “Yes, Steve as in Captain America.” he pondered for a moment. “Y’know, that’s probably part of their plan, drive us good guys out and have us replaced with some of their own guys.” He shook his head and wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Not really, I haven’t been keeping up with the Gotham gossip ever since you guys left for here and had a few things to deal with back home, so it’s been hard to keep on top of everything. Yeah, we had an alien invasion a few years back, I was still Spiderman but there wasn’t much I could do since the Avengers swooped in. I fought a lot of them over in Queens though.” 

...

“Raiding homes? They’ve gone that far?” He knew the ISA had some pretty screwed up objectives, but that seemed like a tactic would draw unwanted attention and shift public opinion negatively. Then again, paint the good guys as the bad guys, and everybody wants them run out of town. Shaking his head he replied to Spider-Man’s theory, “Honestly, that seems like the sort of plan they’d cook up. Get all the actual heroes to leave and they have the place all to themselves.” It wasn’t a bad plan, he had to admit, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Nodding at the confirmation he continued, “That’s the Steve I figured, but you’d be surprised at how many Steve’s there are in this business.” He figured Spidey probably hadn’t talked to the Captain yet, seeing as how he’d just recently arrived. “Does he know you’re here?” 

Stephanie didn’t answer right away, instead reaching up to free her hair from the disaster of a bun on the top of her head, rubbing at her scalp for a moment before working her fingers through the indentations left behind by the elastic. She slipped the elastic onto her wrist, finally offering an easy shrug at his question. “Long.” Easy, non-commital. She was exhausted though that was definitely a choice she’d made considering she’d volunteered for the second shift. “Really long.” Which was why she was half-surprised he hadn’t asleep. Truth be told, it might have been easier to slip in he had been asleep. That way, she could’ve avoided the questions, crawled into bed and pushed down the bullshit she was trying not to deal with for another day.

The hesitance in his approach only served to further sour her mood, which was ridiculous because she knew she’d been off lately. “I’m fine,” she said with a single shake of the head, tone half-dismissive as she tossed aside her jacket in the direction of the unoccupied chair near the corner of the room. “Just tired.” An understatement, maybe one of the biggest she’d made lately. Sleep was so goddamn elusive, and when it came it ended poorly. Working was an easy way to avoid it - maybe Barbara was onto something. “You should get some sleep.” The intention was still dismissive, wanting to move on from herself but the tone was softer, and so was her expression. “I’m gonna jump in the shower then try to sleep myself.”

...

Tim gave a half hearted laugh. “Yeah I bet. I mean, you did work pretty much all night.” He’d waited up for her till the end of  when her first shift was supposed to end, but then when it became clear that she’d stayed for the second shift as well, he had tried to get some sleep. But it was elusive as ever and besides, he had a project he needed to finish. Soon he’d lost track of time and the door was opening behind him and here they were. 

He saw her countenance sour as he began to approach, and stopped where he was. I’m fine. There it was again. “Clearly you’re not.” Shit. It’d slipped out before he could think it through. He wasn’t meaning to start a confrontation, but that was probably not the best response he could have given to avoid one. He softened his voice. “Steph… you’re more than just tired. You haven’t slept in days.” He hesitated, then plowed forward, he’d already started at this point, might as well bring up his main concern. “It seems easier to just avoid it, believe me I know, but that’s not gonna make anything better.” 

There was a steadiness to this kid. Something he hadn’t noticed last time, like most things, obviously. Hadn’t been the best of circumstances. To say the least. Jason hadn’t been trying to get Tim, then. He’d been trying to - God, whatever. It didn’t matter. It never had. The result was the thing. And that’d been so far past wrong. A Robin, beat to shit by another one. He could feel himself folding in around the whole goddamn history, like the fingers of a fist. Tight, closed off, ready to swing. When that wasn’t how this was gonna go. 

Provided they were both on board with that. Which, so far, seemed to be the case. Cool. Great. 

Except, now they had to survive a whole conversation. Jason’s jaw shifted aside, gnawing on the awkwardness. “Yeah, I know.” Like he’d fuck around the ass-end of Sokovia for pleasure. The world was, after all, a hell of a lot bigger than he’d ever imagined, from looking through the fogged up window of that Crime Alley tenement. Sokovia was far - geographically, nevermind the rest - from anywhere Jason would call a good time. Like trading non-answers with his replacement. But, fuck it. Fuck it. 

“Go-betweens,” he muttered, nearly under his breath. Going between? “Remember that killer robot crap that went down around here, couple years back?” He’d heard Tim was some kinda brain, so. Didn’t leave time for an actual answer. Wouldn’t take a genius to follow along. “Somebody’s salvaged enough to sell. And mess around with. In the weaponizing sorta sense. Those assholes, far as I can tell, are… making an investment.” In the same grade of diamond he’d scooped out of those safety deposit boxes. Cut, clarity, colour, carat - perfect match. “Guy on the right’s Božidar Janjatović. Wanted for war crimes - part of the former president’s would-be junta, from the start,” Jason continued, low. Casual. “Don’t have an ID on the younger one. Tattoos and general vibe suggest ex-army. Most of them are. They’ve been running guns and shit out of old military stockpiles, trading up on the profits. I wanna know who’s doing their R&D, with that Ultron scrap.” He tapped some ash into the tray between them, punctuating what he’d had to say. Full stop. 

What else was there? To say. Between the two of them. Right now. Jason had pinned a sharp stare on little Timmy, over the table. Ready to find out. 

...

Tim nodded. Of course he remembered. That was what had started this whole thing, after all. Someone was salvaging Ultron parts? That didn’t at all surprise Tim, it was pretty much exactly what you’d expect to happen with high tech, highly dangerous scrap metal. But it was concerning, nonetheless. He glanced at the two people in the reflection of the kafana’s window as Jason described each of them. Janjatović pinged as familiar, snippets of his file scrolling in the back of Tim’s brain. “Seems like the last sort of person we want running around with Ultron tech..” Wouldn’t be fun for anyone. The other guy wasn’t ringing any bells, so he took his watch off and slid it casually across the table to Jason. “It’s a portable computer,” he explained, even though Jason would probably already know. “If you can get a picture of the younger guy, I can run a facial id scan. Maybe get some more intel on him.” Since Jason was facing towards them, it would be a lot less obvious for him to try to get the picture than Tim. 

Tim mentioned a desire to see the arc reactor, and Bruce gave it a moment’s lingering between them before he said, “Tony Stark is extremely proprietary over his work. He’s got three lawyers who’ve been hired solely to find a way to have his brain legally recognized as industrial property, so his every thought could  meet the conditions of patentability the moment he has them.” Bruce gave a wry smile. “Safe to say, the arc reactor is off-limits for anybody except a select few.” 

The elevator beckoned, as Tim divulged that Stephanie liked to hang around in the armoury. “Hmmm,” Bruce said noncommittally. He wouldn’t be asking Steph anything. The less he attempted to interact with her, the happier she’d be.

“I’m more interested in your impressions, Tim, even if you think they’re not the most thorough.” Bruce looked at Tim in the mirrored panels of the elevator, their reflections meeting eyes. “Do you like the place?”

...

Tim blinked, then laughed out loud at Bruce’s description of Stark’s legal ventures. “He does not! Does he really? Industrial property...” Shaking his head at the absurdity of it all, he continued. “Yeah guess I should have figured it’d be off limits. Too bad. We probably could have made some improvements.” He shot Bruce a vulpine smile. For a moment he wondered if it would be in bad taste to hack into a fellow hero’s files (regardless of whether said hero’s ego deserved it or not.) Probably. And anyway wasn’t that curious to see the plans. 

He glanced over at his mentor as they entered the elevator. He knew that Bruce and Steph weren’t on great terms, and hadn’t been for a while. And while he understood that avoidance was likely the best option for them right now, he couldn’t help but hold out hope that they would reconcile one day. Maybe it was a foolishly optimistic hope, but he cared about both of them, and hated the feeling of choosing sides. 

“Is she dating anyone? I mean, they could be the one to make her take a day or two off.” He suggested and too a swig of his beer. “Oh no.” Peter shook his head. “Nothing to do with the Accords and all to do with the ISA. I’m here to speak with Steve.” He shot Tim a smile. “Lots of things have happened since you guys moved out here, there’s less bodies on the ground and we’re spread thin back home.”

“That sounds like a sweet gig, Red Robin.” he repeated with a chuckle. “So, who’s this new Robin? Have I ever heard of them?” Peter set his now empty bottle down. “Lots of crazy going ons, a couple of bad guys came out of the woodworks but we dealt with them.”

...

@boyblunderrising

There was no denying the fact that her mood had been sour since the …. confrontation with Shiva, though Stephanie had done her best to ignore it. Squash it down, pack it tight, though she never had been good at compartmentalizing. The entire situation had her irritable, that frustration lending itself to energy that she didn’t know what to do with. She was sleeping less than usual (which was infuriating considering how poorly she did on little to no sleep, especially when the nightmares came out to play with the sound of a power drill whirring away in her ears), which did nothing but contribute to the foul mood that was brewing overhead and beginning to circle and descend like a funnel cloud.  Stephanie Brown had somehow managed to cheat death a second time and despite initially making jokes on playing the lottery on this sort of luck, she’d had time to stew on the circumstances and stewing was never good for her. She hadn’t been avoiding Tim, per say, but she was actively avoiding the confrontation that she knew was coming. Because she could still hear Shiva’s voice loud and Goddamn clear in her head:  I believe you will succeed. But if you don’t, then one year from now, I will kill you both. Her single shift had turned into a double and the sun was spreading golden light over the grounds of the Mousehole when she returned. The heel of her palm rubbing into her right eye had smeared mascara beneath her eye, and she tossed the paramedic jacket over the back of a chair in the room once she entered. Shower and bed were in order, but as she’d been half-suspecting, she definitely wasn’t alone. Stephanie finally stopping rubbing at her eye as she lingered halfway into their shared room. “Hey,” she began after a beat passed. “Please tell me you’re not still awake and actually slept.” That was half-kidding, but fell sort of flat.

...

After the initial relief from the encounter with Shiva wore off, Tim could sense a sort of stiffness between him and Steph. She had hardly been sleeping, using patrols, or her job with the city paramedics as evasion. He’d noticed that the number of her times her normal shift had conveniently turned into a double shift was steadily increasing. When she would finally sleep, he was often startled awake by the sound of her screaming from nightmares. He wanted to attribute those to her recent near death experience as well, but if he was being honest, he had noticed the nightmares since they had begun sharing a room here in the Mousehole. But when he’d tried to bring it up, she asserted that she was fine and they weren’t that bad and quickly changed the subject. But he couldn’t help but wonder how long they had been going on, and if they had been this bad back in Gotham too, even though she had said she was fine. He couldn’t help feel like he was beginning to sense a pattern. 

Well, this wasn’t how Stephanie had seen her night going. She had too many of those. This time had been different from the last - the incident with Black Mask had been agonizingly painful, long and extensive and something that Stephanie had wished she could forget but would never leave her. This? This was different and yet equally as terrifying. The panic had been undeniable when Stephanie had realized she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, that the hit that Shiva had delivered to her chest had basically made her heart short circuit and the resulting coldness beginning to spread through her body was a total black out. The panic was real, but at least there wasn’t pain, but the panic had grown exponentially when the back-up that Oracle had send finally arrived and that back-up was Tim. It had been hard to focus, Stephanie couldn’t deny she was getting sleepy and it was hard to keep herself semi-alert enough to listen to the ongoing conversation through Oracle still speaking in her ear. It would be so easy to just fall asleep, give into that cold gripping sensation that was still spreading.  Until it wasn’t. Shiva had approached, delivering a second blow to the chest and all at once Stephanie felt that cold sensation stop. Tim was helping her sit up and she was disoriented for several seconds as she allowed herself to lean against him for a moment and allowed herself to get brought back to the present. “Jesus fucking –” she mumbled to herself as she stretched out her arms, coughing once and taking in a deep breath following it. “That sucked. Oh my God, that sucked. Zero out of five stars. Negative five out of five stars.” She was rambling, very Stephanie and then –  “Shit, wait, did he die?” Stephanie was scrambling forward, out of Tim’s hold to check the pulse on the man she’d been working on before Shiva had made their entrance. “Fuck.” Gone. Truth be told, he was probably going to die anyway but Stephanie had wanted to put in as much work as she could. “So much for that,” Stephanie sighed as she moved back towards Tim, dropping to sit on the concrete beside him. 

...

Tim gave a watery laugh in relief when she started rambling in that Steph way of hers. That, more than anything, reassured him that she was back and she was going to be ok. He moved back a little to give her room to breath, but kept his arms around her for support. But then she was pushing her way out of his arms and over to the man on the ground. Shit. In his worry for Steph he’d forgotten all about him. He swallowed back the sadness at Steph’s disheartenment about the man’s passing. There was nothing else she could have done for him, and yet he knew that she would’ve wanted to do more. Even if Shiva hadn’t made an appearance, he doubted that city paramedics would have arrived in time to save him. He sighed quietly, the adrenaline from earlier being replaced with a heaviness. At least there had only been one casualty tonight. 

“You think I’m the one who will make her take time off? Dream on, bud.” Peter shook his head. “There’s no getting through to her and it’s been a while since I saw you guys but someone like Babs don’t change.” Then he reached to take the offered drink from Tim. “Thanks. Make yourself at home.” Peter then perched himself on the edge of a box because his sofa was buried underneath more boxes. 

“So, what have you been up to all these years? Last time I saw you, you were still Robin. Is that still your gig or what?” Yes, it had been a while since Peter had checked in with his Gotham-based friends but he had been so busy over the last few years that he hadn’t had the chance to go over the bay. 

...

Tim shrugged. “Fair enough. It takes someone with more power than us to get her to take a break.” Chuckling he agreed, “Yeah Babs is sure stubborn. Maybe we can bribe her with poptarts or something.” He handed the drink over, then leaned against the counter. “Thanks! Not too bad of a place you got here.” He wondered why Spidey decided not to stay in the Mousehole, but maybe the guy wanted his own space. He certainly couldn’t blame him for that. It definitely got a little wild sometimes with so many heroes with big personalities (and sometimes even bigger egos) all under the same roof, large as it was. “So why’d you make the move out here? Accords?”

Shiva looked on with pride. Though no longer a child, Little Bird had kept every kept quality that placed children above their elders. Untethered imagination, endless curiosity, creation with abandon. Braver than his fear, more confident than his insecurity. The opposite of the girl they were about to save. He needed to work on his selection, but there was still time for that.

Shiva assumed the form. The last three times they’d reversed death had been for their daughter’s life to continue. This girl did not deserve the blessing they’d now share. They struck the Spoiler’s heart with an open palm. It was done. Shiva laid her coat over the girl, tucking it around her to keep her warm as she awoke from her frozen slumber.

And with that, the Lady Shiva walked away.

...

“Yes. Next time.” When would that be, a return to Gotham? Just the thought made Bruce’s head ache, high up in his sinuses where he could almost smell that particular damp concrete, polished metal scent of his city. It wasn’t as though Bruce couldn’t go back, but also … he couldn’t go back. There was so much that had happened and as much as Bruce thought it could be recouped, The Batman thought differently. 

One of them was more insistent. One of them had always been. 

The smallest details held the most significance. His own thought, but where Bruce had intended it as instruction in the art of detective work, Tim had reshaped it and smoothed it over to present as a simple aphorism. Was it meant to be a reference to personal feelings, to keepsakes and mementos? Was Tim saying it to mean something else?

Bruce dismissed that thought. Tim rarely worked in metaphor. Most of what he said could be accepted at face value.

“Give me your impressions of the place as we go,” Bruce instructed. Then amended the assignment: “–personnel-wise, too, would be good.”

...

From the slight grimace Bruce made at the mention of Gotham, Tim knew exactly what he was thinking. But for all of his mentor’s pragmatism, Tim tended to be a little more idealistic. Maybe that had to do with experience... But he thought that they would be able to return to Gotham someday. Once they’d taken care of this Accord business and brought down the ISA, they could go home. He just hoped it was sooner, rather than later. Even though their current base of operations had been growing on him, he couldn’t say he didn’t miss their home city. 

“Thinking about me, are you?” Shiva stepped in close as they teased, stroking delicate knuckles down the cold skin of his cheek. The sound of physical contact hissed softly in the dead silence of the night. “You may know me, Tim Drake,” Shiva said, and in some ways, Shiva knew him better than their own daughter, “but only a fool thinks he can understand me.” Their tone sounded parental even to their ears. It was what it was.

The Spoiler had two minutes left before irreversible death. He’d given her a deal to consider, collapsing his staff with confidence they would listen. He was right. “Very good,” Shiva said, not yet about the offer’s details but about the act of offering itself. Not every battle ended with the defeat of the enemy, a lesson every fighter would do well to learn. Another lesson - Shiva cannot destroy you unless you permit them to. 

Shiva walked away from Tim, their eyes the last to turn away. Their feet brought them to the Spoiler. Crouching down, they looked over their shoulder at the Little Bird. “I am intrigued.” Intrigued by his desperation, by his bravery, by the ways he would need to change to make their list. “I believe you will succeed,” they said with admiration for the Red Robin. “But if you don’t, then one year from now, I will kill you both. Acceptable?”

...

His jaw tensed slightly at the contact, but he stayed otherwise motionless, eyes darkened and fixed and on theirs. He could hardly even begin to claim he understood Shiva. Their ways transcended so much of his understanding. But he did know them, and he knew their objective. And he knew that they would always be intrigued by a deal. 

Even still, he stifled a sigh of relief at their initial response, instead nodding, stone-faced, in acknowledgement. At least he was making progress. Whether or not they would take the deal still remained to be seen, but they were intrigued. He hoped that would be enough. 

Shame. Could still be the plan. If Tim weren’t feeling so - whatever he was feeling. Far be it from Jason to even imagine; he was having enough fucking trouble figuring out how he felt, at the moment. Too bad, though. He shot a real dirty look in that drunk’s direction; seemed to be stumbling on his way well enough, no second thoughts. Good. This stakeout didn’t need a random asskicking thrown in. Already had a player he hadn’t counted on. And didn’t have any real contingency for, either. Because he really - really - just… didn’t know Tim Drake. At all. What he was had always mattered more than who. Which wasn’t fair. 

Not that life was fair, or anything. But he could try to be. 

For Babs. She didn’t deserve to deal with more batshit just because the Red Hood hadn’t made it into real therapy, like… ever. There’d been - circumstances. 

So Jason sniffed, tightly, and tried to chill the fuck out. Also not one of his strengths. A too-sharp tut snuck away at lucky. “Bull. Takes more than that.” Yeah, took a hell of a lot more than luck to be Robin. And Tim had it all, right? From the start. Not fair. In any sense. 

(Oh, this was going great.) 

Whatever. He’d meant it as some kinda compliment. Mostly. Hadn’t he? Jason stopped the finger he’d been tapping against his cup - quick, working off more than a little misplaced energy - and the knee he was bouncing under the table. “Anyway. What’s your business, down here? I just wanna know how up in mine you’re gonna get.” Had to underline that part. Couldn’t have Tiny Tim getting the wrong damn idea. Like the Red Hood giving a shit about a wayward Robin, or whatever he was, now… 

...

Tim shrugged, acknowledging the point. Being Robin took a whole lot more than luck. Jason was right about that. Surviving in this lifestyle took more than luck, although he figured that a little bit of it certainly couldn’t hurt. So much of what happened to them - or didn’t - was about being in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place...  He bit back the question of whether or not Jason had changed his opinion on if he had what it takes. Since, well, the last encounter they’d had. 

Restless energy emitted off Jason, even after he’d stilled his tapping fingers and bouncing knee. Tim, surprisingly, found that a strange calm had settled over him, perhaps an instinctive reaction from his training. Calm before the fight. He tried to dismiss the idea. It wouldn’t come to that. Things were different now. They were both different. 

“Thanks.” Peter shot Tim a smile and bent down to pick the box back up. “Yeah, I’ve worked with him a few times over the years. Us street level heroes tend to run into each other sooner or later. He just has Hell’s Kitchen and I cover most of Manhattan.” He explained with a shrug. It was fun for Peter, watching people try to figure out who he was whenever they saw him without his mask on but nothing came and that’s exactly how he liked it. It had been over twenty years which had given him plenty of time to fine tune it and whenever someone did put two and two together, it was then a waiting game for Peter to confirm it. 

“I plan on.” He nodded with a small grin. “Just this box but you can come up if you want.” Gesturing his head, Pete made his way up the steps then down the hall to where his own apartment was. Sure, it was a bit run down, but Peter has lived in shittier, more expensive places back home. “Beer’s in the fridge.” He offered.

...

“Oh nice. He seems like an interesting guy to work with.” He nodded. “Yeah, you got that right.” Kinda funny how often heroes ran into each other. But with the world starting to fill with more and more of them, he guessed it wasn’t really surprising. Tim tilted his head, catching the other’s slight grin as he watched the gears in Tim’s head turn. He had to give it to the guy: he’d gotten this secret identity thing down.