moody

It wasn't often that Dick or Bruce could take time off from their night jobs, and even rarer still was when they'd have a night off at the same time. This was one of those nights.

From Jason and Tim’s FaceTime, Dick had gathered that they'd had a lazy day at the manor; no work, school or patrol later on meant pyjamas and movies. Dick couldn't help the little spark of envy in his gut, but he shoved it down to focus on his little brothers’ smiles.

“And then-” Tim started, cutting Jason off in the middle of talking about making lunch with Alfred- “after that I heard Jay making weird noises and when I found him, B was tickling him!”

“Shut up!” Jason shouted and elbowed Tim in the side. Dick’s view of the events was skewed by their IPad falling and facing the ceiling, but he absolutely heard Tim’s screeches.

“Be nice, Jay,” Dick scolded, but there was no denying the sunny grin on his face as Tim’s helpless giggles and Jason’s triumphant teases rang through his phone. He'd needed this, after a long week of work and no time to chat. He'd missed his family.

Dick waited the laughing boys out, checking his messages for a while before hearing them call a truce. Dick couldn't help but laugh as two pink faces appeared on his screen, both with silly, playful smiles on their faces. “What were we talking about, Dickie?” Jason asked.

“Hmm, I think we were talking about Tim finding B tickling you silly,” Dick said, a teasing lilt to his voice. Jason scowled and said, “hey! He got Timbit here too!” Dick smiled at the mental image of a gooey, happy Bruce tiring his youngest sons out with tickles. The growing spark of envy was buried deeper down.

“Wait, I know,” Tim said, smacking Jason’s shoulder repeatedly in his excitement. Jason shot him a look but didn't stop him. “Dickie can help us get revenge! If anyone can take B down it's him!”

Yeah, no. Dick had to cut that line of thought off before Jason agreed. “Sorry kiddos, you're on your own with that one.” Tim pouted at that, thankfully letting it go, but Jason narrowed his eyes and Dick knew he was fucked.

“Why? Are you scared? Too scared of Bruce to help your poor little brothers?” Jason goaded and it was so obvious what he was doing. There was no way in hell Dick would fall for it, except Tim was still pouting and Jason had that challenging smirk on his face and– Dick was a weak, weak man who loved his brothers very much, okay?

“Oh, you're on, Jase. Not only am I gonna take Bruce down, but once I'm done I'm gonna tickle the snot out of you two little brats as well.” Dick hung up before either of them could reply, knowing he had to hurry before word about his little plan got back to Bruce. The drive to the manor would be a long one.

------------------------------------------------------------

The manor was eerily quiet at Dick’s arrival. It definitely didn't help that only Alfred and Ace came to greet him, no patter of little brothers running on wooden floorboards, or warning grunts from his exhausted dad, just Alfred’s warm smile and Ace’s slobbery kisses. It was still a very nice welcome.

“Jaaayyyy, Tiiimmyyyyy, where aaaaare youuuuu?” Dick called out, grinning in spite of himself. It was ridiculous how excited he was to see them, but it had been a rough week, okay? He wanted to see his baby brothers’ happy little faces in person. “I just wanna taaaaaaalkk.”

When Dick was met with a wall of muscles and robe, he knew he was done for. “Hi, chum,” Bruce greeted smoothly, smiling down at Dick. Dick despised how easy it was for Bruce to make him feel like a little kid again. “I understand you're here to defend the boys’ honour.”

Oh, those little shits. Dick was gonna make them regret the day they were born.

“And who told you that?” Bullshitting his way out of stuff had always been Dick’s greatest defence. If he was gonna have any chance against Bruce, he needed to catch him off guard; the two little terrors he considered his brothers had seemingly made that much harder than Dick had been expecting.

“Just two very hyper little birdies. Now-” before Dick had a chance to digest that, he was unceremoniously hoisted over Bruce's shoulder like he weighed no more than a bag of flour. Dick let out a noise of indignation that was absolutely not a squeak, thank you very much, annoyance only growing when Jason and Tim appeared out of nowhere to follow Bruce up to his room.

“Oh, now you two traitors show up. I thought it was you guys who wanted me to get back at B!”

“Well sure, but then you threatened us. Not very nice of you Dickie,” Jason said, while Tim solemnly shook his head in agreement. The two were never as insufferable as when they were on the same side. “We had to tip Bruce off so that he'd protect us, right B?”

Bruce grunted at that and Jason and Tim just smiled, clearly thinking it was a grunt of agreement. Dick, though, had had a lot more years of practice translating each of Bruce's noises, meaning he knew that grunt was actually amusement. Specifically, it was the kind of amusement that spelt trouble for thing one and thing two over there. Good.

Dick’s sense of justice was cut short, however, when Bruce threw him onto the bed, quickly following to sit on Dick’s thighs and secure his arms. Well, shit. If Dick were a religious man, this would be about the time to start praying.

The bed dipped at either side of Dick, and he was met with his little brothers’ sunny smiles. It was unfair how much they tugged at his heart strings, they'd thrown him to the wolves–or, well, wolf–and still he couldn't help but smile sappily back at them. “Hi Dickie," Tim chirped and Dick barked out a laugh, pretty much resigned to his fate at this point.

“Hiya, little menace. So, did Jay put you up to this?” that had Jason gasping in offence, but it was Tim’s wicked little grin that had Dick whipping his head between them in shock. “What? No. C’mon, not my teeny tiny lil guy,” Dick pouted, enjoying the flush Tim’s cheeks took on in response. That would have to settle for Tim’s karma, at least for now.

“If it helps,” Bruce said, forcing Dick to fully acknowledge his current predicament, with his dad pinning him down and a brother on either side. “They both delivered the news to me. They said you'd decided to come over to try and tickle me, is that correct?”

Dick went to protest, to correct the mostly untrue version of events Bruce had been fed, when the feeling of little hands scratching at his right set of ribs had him firmly sealing his lips. “No rebuttal? He's clearly guilty, B,” the little cretin attached to those hands said, laughing in delight when Dick glared at him. Jason always had been one to act first, consider the consequences later.

“Hmm, I suppose this could be a fitting punishment for such a crime,” Bruce grinned, nodding for Tim to join Jason. Unfortunately, he didn't go for Dick’s other set of ribs like Dick had prepared for, but instead shot one hand directly into Dick’s armpit.

Dick squarked, quickly succumbing to startled laughter. He turned his head just to see Tim’s self-satisfied grin, and again he was torn. While a huge part of Dick was feeling extremely betrayed by his brothers and was very excited to enact his deserved revenge, another part of him couldn't help but be proud of the little trouble makers. Truly, he was going so soft in his old age. He was really starting to understand Bruce now, and wasn't that a terrifying thought.

Speaking of Bruce, Dick looked up at him, just to see the man smiling lovingly down at him, hands still keeping Dick’s arms firmly pinned so he couldn't even attempt to fight back. Dick felt his cheeks heat up at such open affection radiating from the older man, tossing his head to the side to press against the pillows. It was then that Jason decided to follow Tim’s lead, darting one hand up from his ribs to his armpit, while the other kept on scribbling at his ribs.

“JAHAHASE,” Dick barked out between gasping laughter, which only grew in both volume and pitch when Tim finally put his spare hand to use on Dick’s other ribs, squeezing them gently. It was an absolutely evil counterpoint to Jason’s light scribbles, and Dick hated how quickly he was already losing his cool. “TIHIM, NOHOHO!” He tugged desperately against Bruce’s grip on his arms, but it was pointless.

“Tim yes,” Jason cheered, grinning cheekily at his little brother. Tim smiled back at him over Dick’s unfortunately pinned figure, and the sight of them having so much fun together was almost worth this torture. Almost.

“BRAHAHATS!”

“Alright, boys, let him breathe,” Bruce finally piped up, and Dick startled at both of his brothers’ dismayed little frowns, but the two did stop tickling him and moved back to give him some air.

“I– I aham so getting you two bahack after thihis,” Dick huffed out, jolting with a shocked squeak when Jason squeezed his thigh.

“Nuh-uh, B will protect us,” Jason said, all cocky, toothy grinned. “Right, B?” Bruce responded with very pointed silence, making Jason audibly gulp. Dick couldn't help but chuckle.

“Huh, I think he's ready to laugh again, B,” Tim piped up, because clearly Dick was no more than chopped liver to him at this point.

“Alright, boys, grab his arms for me,” Bruce grinned, grinned, and Dick blushed at the excited little butterflies that elicited in his stomach. While Jason and Tim didn't seem to notice, too busy securing Dick’s arms to the bed, Bruce definitely did if his knowing chuckle was anything to go by. Dick felt the red spread to his neck.

Bruce took his time cracking his knuckles over Dick’s chest, following it up by cracking his neck to either side. He was clearly enjoying the way Dick squirmed in response, if him drawing the motions out was any indication. “Alright, let your old man show you how it’s done.”

Dick squeezed his eyes firmly shut, bracing himself for ruthless tickles to his knees or sides. Instead, he felt… Nothing. Dick slowly opened his eyes in confusion, brimming with nervous energy, to be met with the sight of Bruce clawing both hands just above Dick’s sides.

“Nononononono,” Dick rushed out, tugging against his brothers’ grips to no avail. “No- noho not that! Beehehe please!”

“Woah, I didn't know Dick could turn that red,” Tim said, voice so incredibly earnest that Dick couldn't even be mad. He just flushed worse at the unintentional tease, tugging at his arms again.

“Mm yes, your brother is particularly weak to the anticipation of this,” Bruce explained, his voice soft and patient as if he was explaining a new kind of grapple, not teasing Dick within an inch of his life in front of his baby brothers. “Especially when you do this,” Bruce started wiggling his fingers, slowly lowering his hands to Dick’s sides.

“NononoNONO PLEASE,” Dick begged, tossing, turning and tugging against the weights holding him down. Alas, his efforts were still futile. Dick let out a definitely very manly squeal as Bruce quickly darted his hands down as close to Dick’s sides as possible without actually touching him, before the hands were quickly brought back to where they were slowly lowering down from before.

“Woah,” Jason breathed out, awe practically dripping from his voice. Bruce’s chuckle in response did not help how ridiculous and, admittedly, eager Dick was feeling.

“Just you wait, Jay, I'm gonna do this above your hips until you're begging for– NOOOOO!” Dick’s taunt was cut off by his own shout of protest when Bruce’s evil, clawed hands finally made contact with Dick’s sides. Bruce kept the shape to claw sporadically at Dick’s sides, while his fingers continued to wiggle tauntingly. It was horribly effective and incredibly evil. It was the most fun Dick had had in a while.

“NAHAHAHA, BRUHUHUHUCE,” Dick cackled, legs jackhammering uselessly against the sheets as he attempted to buck Bruce off and tug his arms in to protect his sides–he was successful at neither.

“I didn't realise he was so ticklish,” Tim giggled, the little shit, and Bruce just hummed in response.

“Or that he was such a kicker,” Jason added. “Fuck, Dickie, calm down before you put someone's eye out.”

“SWEHEAR JARHAHAHAR,” Dick laughed out, refusing to dignify the rest of that with a response. He let himself feel a little vindicated when Jason’s protest was quickly cut off by Bruce’s agreement.

That vindication was, just like his earlier justice, short-lived, since Bruce decided that that was a good time to switch to squeezing Dick’s sides in frantic little bursts.

“Hehehehey," Dick laughed out, squirming calming down a little while his legs kicked out a bit more forcefully.

“Hi, lad,” Bruce replied, smile soft and fond and making Dick feel loved and a bit light-headed. He hated to admit it, he really truly did, but he'd missed his dad’s loving attention more than he'd realised.

“Hi,” Tim grinned, adjusting how he was sitting to get more comfortable. Jason stayed quiet, but the smirk on his face said enough. Yeah, Dick would never hear the end of this. It was almost unfathomable how little he cared about that right now, though.

“Ready for one last punishment for your crimes, sweetheart?” Bruce asked, one hand leaving Dick’s side to give him enough air to string a sentence together; y’know, in theory at least.

“I dihihidn’t doho anything,” Dick giggled weakly, a little huff of indignation making its way out of his mouth. “It wahas their ideahahaha.”

Dick watched as Bruce studied Jason and Tim’s mock innocent faces, clearly amused by their adorable, if pitiful, attempts. “I'm afraid I find you guilty, Richard Grayson,” Bruce ruled, raising his voice to be heard over Tim and Jason’s victorious cheers as well as Dick’s giggly rebuttals. “I sentence you to death by raspberries.”

Between one blink and the next, Bruce had knelt down to rub his stubbled face against Dick’s bare neck, blowing raspberry after raspberry in the same spot there. It wasn't Dick’s worst spot by any means, but the unrelenting attacks coupled with how he was still trapped under his family heightened the sensation near unbearably.

“EEEEEEEK,” Dick screeched, peel after peel of childish laughter being pulled from him. “I'M SOHOHORRY.”

Bruce was clearly unmoved by Dick’s apologies, continuing to blow raspberries against his neck until Dick was out of words, unable to do anything other than go limp against the bed and laugh his head off. Bruce quickly backed off after that, Tim and Jason seemingly following suit as Dick regained control of his arms. Dick then used this newfound freedom to swiftly tug his little brothers against either side of him, happy to finally get his baby brother cuddles.

He heard Bruce chuckle from above before a big, warm hand settled in his hair, brushing through it slowly. “It was their idea, B,” Dick hummed when he'd calmed down a bit more.

Tim and Jason started to disagree, but Bruce quickly cut them off, saying, “I thought as much. Don't worry, they'll get their punishments for planning the failed ambush.”

Dick smiled at his brothers’ high pitched refutes, Tim begging for mercy while Jason argued that he'd done nothing wrong. Dick tugged them impossibly closer, smiling into one of their heads of hair (he thinks it was Tim’s, but he couldn't be certain). “Later. Hugs now,” Dick demanded.

Bruce chuckled, moving to sit beside his sons with his tablet magically precured. He used one hand to scroll through what looked to be the news, while the other returned to Dick’s hair, making him hum happily.

The unexpected voice nearly had Tim turning around, but if he let himself get interrupted now, he’d lose his flow and it would be impossible to force himself back on track. 

“Working.” 

Tim could practically hear the pout in Dick’s voice. “Working? When I’m in Gotham? Timmy, I’m hurt.”

Tim rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his energy drink – shit, almost empty. That was his last one, too. He might have to start in on the coffee, soon. Blegh.

“Didn’t know you’d be home this weekend.”

A body suddenly draped itself over the back of his chair, which was not helping with the ache in his shoulders and upper back, thank you very much. Tim grunted at the extra weight and allowed himself a brief glare at Dick, whose head was now resting on his shoulder.

“Do you mind?”

Dick hummed. “No, not at all. I mean, it’s not the most comfy, you are pretty bony, but I can make-do. I cuddle with Wally all the time, after all.”

Tim closed his eyes and counted out a few steady breaths. When he reopened them, he turned to face Dick again and found Dick already watching him. Thankfully, he’d backed away a bit, so they weren’t having to cross their eyes to see each other.

“Dick. I’m busy right now. We can catch up later, alright?”

Dick pouted, the manipulative jerk, and glanced towards Tim’s desk. He knew Dick was taking in the mess of paperwork and casework he’d snuck up from the Cave, the excess of drink cans that he’d yet to haul down to the recycling, the state of the current report he was working on, all in a few seconds.

“Looks like you’ve been working for a bit now…”

“It’s due soon.”

“How soon?” He should’ve known Dick would immediately latch onto the vague wording. 

“Soon enough that you should leave me alone.”

Dick hummed again, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t take even just a little break?”

“I’ll break you,” Tim grumbled under his breath, but Dick was too close not to overhear. 

“Timmy,” Dick sing-songed, drawing out his name. 

For some reason, Tim’s skin started prickling, his heart thumping with a surge of adrenaline. Tim shrugged his shoulders, even with Dick’s weight pressed against them, trying to dispel some of the anxious energy. Maybe he had had too many energy drinks.

“What?” 

“You have five seconds to save your document.” 

Tim startled, glancing back toward Dick again. “I— wait, what?”

“Five… four… three…”

Tim swore under his breath and saved his spreadsheet, then the few other documents he had open too. Dick was kind enough to slow down his counting a comical amount for Tim to do so, even adding some fractions into the mix. When the last document was saved and Dick reached zero, he reached out and flipped the laptop shut. Tim pulled his fingers back with a yelp, barely clearing the edge of the device before it closed.

Tim managed to shake Dick off his shoulders for real after that, spinning his desk chair around to glare up at him. “Satisfied?”

Dick smiled, slow and innocent, but there was a dangerous curl to the edge of it. Tim was too preoccupied to bother wondering why it made him so twitchy, already mentally adding up further spreadsheet edits he needed to make in his head. He’d get to it as soon as he got Dick out of his room. Ugh, this is why he rarely stayed at the Manor anymore — at least at his Nest, he could lock obnoxious brothers out. 

“Almost,” Dick said, drawing out the word again. “Just one more thing.” 

Tim rolled his eyes. “And what’s that?”

Dick slunk closer, Tim’s hackles raising with every step. He loomed over Tim and said, “Baby brother giggles.”

Tim barely had time to spit out a curse, trying to throw himself out of his chair in time to make a break for it. He knew it was futile — Dick had well and truly cornered him before he even realized the danger of the situation — but no self-respecting Wayne went down without a fight. Still, it was far too easy for Dick to lurch towards him, sweep an arm around his waist, and just fully yeet him onto his bed. Dick quickly bounced onto the mattress after him.

“No no no,” Tim babbled as he tried to kick out at Dick to keep him away. “Come on! Why me? You have a perfectly good babiest brother downstairs!” 

Dick laughed, fending off his feet. “Should’ve run when you had the chance, Timmy! I gave you plenty of warning.”

Dammit, and Tim’s body had already long figured it out, too. He was just too stupid to listen. 

A hand locked in a vice grip around his ankle, and Tim yelped as he was dragged across the bed. Dick wasted no time pinching into his knees and thighs as they came into range, leaving Tim gasping and kicking and swallowing snickers. He thrust his free foot into Dick’s forearm until Dick hissed and was forced to let him go. He immediately rolled onto his stomach then, getting his hands and knees underneath him to crawl away, cursing the bunched-up squishyness of his unmade bedding as it tripped him up and hampered his progress.

And then a lanky mass of limbs and fluffy hair landed on Tim’s back, knocking him flat to the bed again with a startled “oof!” Dick chuckled behind him, deep and slow, and Tim’s heart set off like a jackrabbit. Goosebumps prickled along his skin as the baby hairs of his neck stood on-end.

“You really think I was gonna let you get away that easy, kiddo?”

Tim tried to toss Dick off, bucking and twisting to no avail. He huffed out a breath, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. “The hell have you been eating over in Blüd?”

“Timmy, Timmy, Timmy… I’d almost think you’re trying to make this worse for yourself.”

As if. Tim had been busy, thank you very much! He had the W.E. reports to finish, and after that he had several in-progress cases to be working on, and after that he had some online practice tests for the GED he was trying to get in secret, and—

He just had a lot to do, okay? And Dick interrupting him was not fitting smoothly into his projected schedule. So what if some older brother tickles might actually make his brain stop spinning for a few minutes? It’s not like he’d try to dig himself into a deeper hole just to ensure a moment of peace. Especially since he’d probably be too wiped-out to keep working after, and Dick would drag him downstairs for some dumb family time activity, and he’d probably force Tim into being his cuddle buddy for a movie night or something and lure Tim into actually sleeping when he needed to be working, and—

Look. Tim wasn’t that desperate or self-sabotaging, okay?

Shut up.

Tim scoffed, still squirming, but gasped and went still as Dick settled curled fingers against his ribs and sides. They twitched threateningly, and Tim twitched with them.

“Can’t we talk about this?” Tim asked, trying to keep the giddiness out of his tone. It just made his voice sound small.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dick said conversationally. “You go ahead and talk. I’ll just be here.”

Tim craned his head to shoot a wary look at Dick over his shoulder. Dick, lounging over his back like it was the most comfortable place in the world, blinked at him innocently. Tim narrowed his eyes but opened his mouth to speak, not even sure what he was about to say. Dick, both confirming his suspicions and saving him from having to come up with something, immediately vibrated his fingertips into the sides of Tim’s torso.

“N-no! Wait!” Thank god for Tim’s unmade mess of blankets, now. The way they puddled around provided him with a thick layer of fabric to bury his face in and muffle all the embarrassing noises he made as he tried to hold his laughter at bay.

“Wait? What do you mean? I’m not doing anything. I’m waiting on you, Timmy.”

Tim was so getting Dick back for this. If his brain hadn’t instantly scrambled under the ticklish assault, he’d already be planning his revenge. As it was, it was all Tim could do to shake with barely-contained laughter. 

Dick’s vibrating fingers paused and slid lower down his sides, squeezing into the flesh and muscle and baby fat still clinging on there even though Tim was 18 now. The good news? Tim was way less ticklish down there. Now that half his ribcage wasn’t in Dick’s grip, it was way easier to breathe around his suppressed laughter. The bad news? Dick’s hands were ever-so-slowly crawling back upward, which Tim knew from experience promised a no-holds-barred attack on his ribs the moment Dick got there. Arms flailing backward, he managed to latch his hands around Dick’s wrists, hoping he still had the strength to push Dick away. He only realized his mistake when Dick cackled out a laugh, one that was eerily reminiscent of his Robin days, and shot his hands up into Tim’s now-exposed armpits. 

Far too late, Tim clamped his arms down against his sides — or, at least, tried to. Being pinned facedown didn’t leave him much maneuverability, and he couldn’t get his arms properly tucked to his sides for the life of him. Not that it would’ve deterred Dick, anyway. Still, Tim would have preferred the flimsy semblance of protection against Dick’s jolting scratching. He wheezed into the blankets before finally cracking, stuttering laughter forcing its way past his lips.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Dick said, infuriatingly conversational. “Come on bud, I’m all ears. What was it you wanted to say?”

Tim shook his head, trying his best to wriggle out from under Dick’s weight to no avail.

“No, no, don’t clam up now! I’m your big brother Tim, I’ll always want to hear what you have to say.”

Asshole, Tim thought. Then he hunched his shoulders with a squeak as Dick blew a cool stream of air over his nape and ears. It wasn’t as effective on him as it would be for, say, Damian, but it was still enough to send gooseflesh racing up along his neck and arms and make a giggle sneak through before he pitched back up into full laughter. Dick broke character for a moment to coo at him.

Tim managed to flip Dick off with one of his utterly useless hands, turning his head to the side to speak through his laughter, “You’re a j-jerk!” 

Dick gasped, loud and melodramatic. Tim quickly reburied his face with a screech as Dick shifted his fingers slightly downwards, digging into his highest rib and the space between it and his underarm.

“Baby Bird, I can’t believe it! Here I am, holding space for you and your feelings, and you hurl such abuse at me?” 

Tim, ever one to dig his own grave, replied simply with, “Deserved!”

He doubted it was intelligible through his laughter and blanket shield, but Dick seemed to understand him anyway. The only warning Tim got was a muttered, “Well if that’s how it is,” before one hand slid out from under his arm and vibrated ruthlessly into one of the kill-spots on the back of his bottom ribs. 

With two of his absolute worst spots being targeted with the sort of ruthless efficiency only an eldest sibling can have, Tim could only let out a wordless laugh-scream as he tried to cope with the sensations. The following cackles were loud and frantic, pulled deep from his lungs, and Tim had to twist his face into the open to get the air to support them. He tried desperately to thrash, to do anything to dislodge those hands, but Dick had draped his torso near-parallel over Tim’s own, leaving him no leeway. Bucking up to try and throw Dick off only bounced the both of them on the mattress, making the tickles even worse by jostling Dick’s hands into his ribs. The most he could do was kick his feet frantically, drumming them against the bedding, as if that could somehow alleviate the incessant buzzy, tingling, ticklish feeling overtaking his entire body and mind. 

He could tap out. Tim knew he could tap out, and Dick would respect it here just the same as on the sparring mats. Tim’s hands spasmed against the bedsheets once, twice, before his fingers tangled themselves into the fuzzy blankets and gripped tight.

“Dick!” Tim cried out. “Dick!!”

“Yeah, Timmy? I’m here, what’s up, bud?”

Tim wailed again as Dick managed to seamlessly swap which side got which treatment, renewing the sensations tenfold. “Ti— tic— it tick—“

“Sorry, could you speak up? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Tim let out a sound of frustration, tinged with too much giddiness and mirth to really be taken seriously, and thumped his feet against the mattress extra hard. Dick huffed out a fond laugh.

“Yeah, I bet it does tickle, huh, bud?”

Tim shrieked as Dick briefly clawed at both spots before switching back to the digging vibration of before. He tugged at the blankets fisted in his fingers, trying to bury himself. 

“Ohhhh,” Dick said, drawing out the word in a dramatic moment of realization. “Is that what you wanted to talk about this whole time? How tickly-ticklish you are? Well, why didn’t you just say so!”

If Tim could’ve groaned through his guffaws, he would have. As it was, he barely had the wherewithal to flip Dick off a second time. Another foolish mistake on his part. Dick chuckled deep and low and evil right next to his ear. Too quickly for Tim to process, there was a rush of cold air against his back as Dick raised his body up and away from Tim’s. Then, the tickling hands were gone too. Tim had barely sucked in a full breath before his shirt was unceremoniously shoved up past his ribs and Dick was blowing a long raspberry right up against one of those bottom-rib kill-spots.

Another laugh-scream (or was it a scream-laugh? The screaming definitely felt like the main sound) escaped Tim as the ticklish vibration spread outward across all the nerves in his back. He felt like a live wire, twitching and frenzied. It didn’t help when Dick’s next breath was dedicated to a series of shorter raspberries up and down that same side, each one sending a shock through him. After everything Dick had already put him through, it took Tim an embarrassing amount of time for his brain to process his freedom of movement and load up his defense mechanisms. Long enough for Dick to get another scream-worthy raspberry against his lower ribs before Tim managed to roll onto that side to protect it. 

Of course, that left one side not only completely defenseless, but practically handed to Dick on a silver platter. Dick, living up to his name, took full advantage of it, sending Tim crashing back onto his front as he jolted away from the evil, evil raspberries. They did that song and dance for a while, Dick teasing with his laughter and wordless coos while Tim flopped from side-to-side like a particularly stupid fish. It took another embarrassing several minutes (and several rounds of this particular torture) for Tim’s brain to load up some less stupid defense mechanisms and finally roll into his back. Take that Dick! Can’t torment the death spots on the backs of his ribs now. But instead of being put-out, Dick immediately seated himself over Tim’s thighs with a bright grin.

“There you are, bud!” Dick gave a few sporadic pokes around his stomach and sides. “Was wondering if I’d ever get to see that sweet smile of yours!”

Tim immediately started giggling, hiding his face behind one hand and slapping at Dick’s fingers with the other. “Dickie,” he whined.

Tim watched Dick cock his head through his fingers. “What? I thought your tummy looked lonely, don’t you think it could use some giggles too?”

Tim shook his head and watched Dick melt in real time.

“No? Are you sure?”

Well, if it would keep his brain quiet for a bit longer…

“Maybe just a little,” Tim mumbled.

Dick melted even more, if that was even possible. He wiggled his fingers into Tim’s stomach, digging into all the spots that made Tim feel giggly and fizzy with his own ticklishness. Tim removed the hand from his face, latching both hands onto Dick’s wrists. Not pushing Dick away, just holding on while he threw his head back with giggles and laughter. Eventually, Dick’s fingers tapered off. A set of dry lips pressed against Tim’s temple, and he peeled his teary eyes open to give Dick an embarrassed smile.

“All tickled out, Baby Bird?”

Tim was too exhausted to be defensive, giving Dick a nod. He beamed at Tim before rolling off of him, settling next to Tim in the bed and pulling Tim into his side. Tim snuggled in with a sigh.

“We were missing you downstairs,” Dick said after a moment, his voice soft and quiet. “You work too hard.”

Tim shrugged. “It has to get done.”

Dick hummed and rubbed his arm. “Shouldn’t be at your expense. Don’t turn into Bruce.”

“Or you?” Tim gave Dick a look out of the corner of his eye.

“Or me,” he grumbled. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

Tim snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, brat. You coming down for movie night or what?”

Tim groaned and flopped more fully over Dick’s chest. “No,” he whined, drawing out the word. “Comfy. Naptime.”

Dick laughed. “Come on, bud. I didn’t turn you into a mushy little cuddle monster for nothing, I need my movie cuddle buddy.”

“Fine. But you’re carrying me.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

It took them a few minutes to get Tim settled onto Dick’s back, mostly because Tim decided to ragdoll and make Dick do all the work for his own amusement. They made their way down to the theater room where the rest of the family was already gathered, finishing up an argument on what they were going to watch that night. There was, of course, the teasing for the frantically ticklish sounds that had echoed down the stairs from Tim’s room, but it was almost worth it for the lingering drowsy, no-brain endorphins still running through his body. As it was, he just buried his blush in the crook of Dick’s neck, much to everyone’s clear amusement. 

Still, Tim could live with it. Especially when he got to doze off to some detective film, warm and cozy and under the watchful eye of his family. He could afford to take a break, just for a little bit.

Jason swatted Dick away as he tried to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Like I’m ready to go fu— freaking home already.” 

Alfred glanced over his shoulder with a Look. At first, Jason assumed it was from the near-swear, but then Alfred opened his mouth. “I’m afraid you won’t be leaving just yet, lad.”

“Wha—Alfred!”

“We’ll review your symptoms tomorrow, to ensure they haven’t become more severe.”

“So what if my helmet broke? It did its job! You can’t keep me here!”

Dick, having chosen to casually lean against the foot of his bed, snorted. There was no humor in the sound. “Jason, the thing practically shattered while it was still on your head. You have ten stitches on your forehead alone. I’m with Alfie on this one.”

“Thank you, Master Dick. Master Jason, you are quite lucky it is only the concussion and a few stitched wounds. Had your leg been broken as we had worried, you would not be leaving this Manor for the foreseeable future.”

And thank fucking god for that. Being forced to stay up in the Manor for weeks on end? Jason could handle a few hours here and there, finally relenting to invites for family dinners or Sunday brunches within the past few months, but if he was trapped there for days at a time, Jason was sure blood would spill. And certainly not his own.

Jason fumed, but decided it was wiser to stay silent now. A disappointed or testy Alfred could be soul-crushing, and he’d dealt with enough bullshit emotions for one night. Alfred nodded decidedly at his silence.

“Go get some rest, Master Dick. Master Jason, sleep well.”

Jason sighed, long and loud. “Yeah, you too, Alfie.”

Despite the warning tone in Alfred’s instructions, Dick didn’t follow him to the exit. Instead, he decided to push his luck again, approaching the head of the bed. Jason should’ve kicked him when he had the chance, but damn, despite not being broken, his leg sure was fucking sore.

“You doing okay?” He asked, his tone so gentle that Jason could physically feel his hackles raising. “Really?”

“Fucking fine, Dickhead. Get the fuck out of here and let me sleep.”

Dick huffed, an uncomfortable mix of amusement and bitterness that Jason refused to squirm at, and nodded. “Alright, Jay. I’ll let you rest.”

And then, because god forbid the asshole stop playing jovial big brother for even a second, Dick darted in close with a mischievous smile. Jason tried to fight him off, whatever his game was, but somehow Dick managed to dodge around his arms and into his personal bubble. Chapped lips connected with his hairline, carefully away from his stitches and bruising, startling Jason into stillness for a split second. By the time he went to fight again, Dick was already backing out of his space, jogging for the stairs.

“Sweet dreams, Little Wing!”

“Fuck you!”

Dick’s laughter echoed off the stone long after he was gone. Between that and the weirdly gooey feeling in his chest, it took a long time for Jason to finally sleep.

*     *     *     *     *

The next day was no better. Jason woke up feeling like death warmed over; his head pounding, his stitches itching, and every muscle in his body aching from the previous night’s abuse. Bitterly, he wished he could blame the medbay cot for some of it, but Bruce spared no expense on his setup, and the thing was unfortunately pretty comfortable.

Alfred, despite having checked his symptoms upon waking up and tending to his needs since then (god, had he missed Alfred’s cooking. A meal or two a month only satisfied his cravings so much), refused to release him until at least the late afternoon. After a series of complaints, Alfred told Jason he was lucky that he wasn’t being kept for a full 24 hours of observation, and that quickly shut him up.

Still, there was only so much he could do to entertain himself while stuck in the medbay. He did some stretches for his sore muscles, careful of the second set of stitches in his side lest he risk Alfred’s wrath. He snacked on whatever Alfred brought him, even after his hunger was satiated, just to beat back the boredom. He even asked Alfred to bring him down a few book options, and even though they were to his taste, he struggled to read around the headache squeezing at his skull.

Okay, fine. Maybe the concussion was a little beyond mild — but if Jason wasn’t throwing up and seeing stars, he didn’t care. He was fit for the field.

Eventually, Dick and the twerp made their way downstairs. Dick tried to check on him, dragging the mouthy little bird with him, but Jason was quick to chase them out. Just because he was stuck here did not mean he was going to play happy little family. Thankfully they got the message — though not without an eyeroll from Tim and a kicked-puppy pout from Dick — and headed off to the training mats. If Jason eventually wandered out to watch them train, it was just to stretch his legs. Alfred only said he had to stay at the Cave (or Manor, but Jason was still avoiding Bruce as much as possible), not in the medbay itself. He was bored and his legs were stiff – he absolutely was not looking to spend time with those chucklefucks that called themselves his brothers.

While neither of them were going easy on the other, it was clear to Jason that his spar was more play than work. Dancing around each other, hopping out of grasps, taunting and teasing (which, granted, was a trait embedded in any Robin, even in work mode, but still) – they were just toying with each other, winding each other up. And then Dick lunged, quick and graceful as a panther, a move more intent than any Jason had seen so far. Things were livening up. Jason stood a little straighter, ready to see where this would go.

And then Tim started screaming.

Jason started for the mats before he even processed what was happening, every nerve on high alert at the noise. He’d fought the kid on several occasions and never heard that sound. He’d rescued the brat from torture and never heard him scream like that before. What in the fuck had happened for Tim to throw all that stoicism out the window?

A shrill cackle stopped Jason in his tracks. Dick hadn’t even bothered to pin the kid, just wrapped his noodly limbs around him like an octopus as he dug his fingers into every inch of ticklish torso he could reach. Tim was spitting and cursing and writhing through his laughter, and though Jason saw at least three different ways he could escape Dick’s hold, Tim didn’t take any of them. Even being tomato red and wheezing, Jason didn’t think he’d ever seen Tim alight with so much joy. And, honestly? Despite how humiliating it no doubt was, Jason couldn’t exactly blame him. 

A lifetime ago, Jason was the one writhing beneath those hands. He and Dick had a rocky start, and a rough relationship overall, but even Jason couldn’t keep lying to himself that things were all bad. They had their good moments; train-hopping, ice cream hangouts, a meager handful of patrols together. 

And Dick absolutely taking Jason to pieces on those very training mats. Or in the theater room. Or the family room, one of their bedrooms, trapped in the car — really anywhere Dick thought he could get away with it.

Jason hadn’t reached for those memories since he’d gotten back. Everything from before often felt so bitter and tainted, bruised and aching, so he tended to leave well enough alone. He wasn’t that scrawny little kid anymore after all, beaming bright and spouting bullshit about how “Robin is magic!” He’d never be that kid again, so what was the point of dwelling on it? His so-called family already had that handled for him.

Even still, a feeling bubbled up in Jason’s chest. It wasn’t warm and melty, like whatever Dick had left him with last night. It was oozing and sticky and sharp, like an open wound congealed in blood. Jason huffed a sharp breath through his nose and turned tail, settling himself back in the medbay. He roughly snatched up one of the books, flipping it open and trying to focus on it around Tim’s howling. He spent most of the time staring blankly at the first page, fighting off the memories trying to creep up on him. He was so lost in his own head that he almost missed when the laughter finally stopped echoing off the Cave walls. He cursed under his breath, flipped about a quarter of the way through the book, and pretended to be lost in the novel. 

“Good book, Little Wing?”

“Sure,” Jason grumbled, skimming the random page he opened. It seemed vaguely familiar — he must’ve read it when he was a kid.

“Dick and I were gonna raid the secret junk food stash,” Tim piped up. “If you wanna come.”

Alfred totally knew about that, nothing stayed secret from him. Still, it was remarkable that he’d let them pretend for this long. Jason remembered the days where he helped Dick, and even Bruce, stock the stash behind Alfred’s back. But as much as Jason could really go for some chalky Donettes or double-stuf Oreos, that nasty fucking feeling in his chest did not leave him much room for brotherly bonding.

“I’m good,” Jason said, tone snappy. “Alfred’ll be down soon to give me the all-clear. Knock yourselves out.”

“Jay, are you sure?”

“I said, I’m good.”

Dick raised his hands in surrender, backing out of the medbay with a bitter smile and dragging Tim with him. He heard them muttering to each other as they made for the stairs.

“What’s his problem?”

“He’s got a concussion, kiddo. Can’t blame him for being grumpy.”

“I’ve seen him get shot and be less grumpy than that.”

Dick’s sigh followed them out of the Cave, bleeding into Jason’s own sigh as he let the book fall onto the bed next to him. Jesus Christ. What was wrong with him?

*     *     *     *     *

After the concussion incident, Jason turned back to his good friend avoidance. Unfortunately, it was a tactic that could only work for so long. With word of Red Hood’s new penchant for antiheroism spreading, he could only get himself so far these days. Usually, he could fend for himself – he had Bat and League training, after all – but sometimes he had to swallow his pride and call in backup. Hence why he was crouched on an old warehouse catwalk with Nightwing and Robin, of all people.

The up-and-coming drug lord he was after this time was no joke. He was clearly bringing power in from somewhere else, probably an out-of-towner thinking he could make easy moves in such a crime-ridden city. He’d even outright taunted the Red Hood, bragging around the Alley about his impending takeover. Hood would’ve had a bullet through his head weeks ago, but unfortunately, the asshole had the skill to back up his bravado

Hood had only caved when the first bodies showed up, done in by whatever the shithead had laced the drugs with.

The second he got wind of this meeting, he’d reached out to Nightwing for backup. Most stakeouts Hood would handle on his own, whether he was getting help with the case or not, but this time he wasn’t taking any risks. He even bit his tongue on any snide comments when Nightwing showed up with Robin, insisting that three sets of eyes were better than two.

Of course, that only mattered if the fuckers actually showed up.

Three hours in without a sign of movement and Hood was ready to admit he’d been played. Whatever Drug-Fucker was doing that night, he’d wanted Hood out of the way, and he’d gotten more than he’d bargained with half the Bats detained at the same time. Hood wasn’t looking forward to the news that came in tomorrow, haunted by visions of bodies in the streets even as Nightwing and Robin practically dragged him from the warehouse. Still, he made sure his pity party was over by the time they reached a nearby BatBurger.

“I’m getting my fries jokerized,” Robin said as they settled on the roof, trying to decide their order, “and I don’t care what you have to say about it.”

Hood shrugged, unlatching his helmet. “It’s the only decent way to eat them.”

Nightwing looked at both of them like they were insane. 

“You can’t give me that look,” Hood said. “I’ve seen you eat your cereal with orange juice before.”

“I was eighteen! You can’t still hold that against me!”

Robin cocked his head to the side, his domino wrinkling with the furrow in his brow. “What’s wrong with orange juice?”

Hood shook his head. “Not drinking it, little bird. He full-on drenched his Wheatie-O’s in orange juice.”

The kid’s face quickly twisted in horror as he turned back to Nightwing. “That’s disgusting.”

“Okay, one, they were not Wheatie-O’s, those sound disgusting. Two, I was a teenager–”

“So? I’m a teenager now.”

“And you have more Zesti in your body than blood, you don’t count.”

“He’s got you there, kid.”

“Hey, I’m on your side!”

“You’re right. It’s a perfectly respectable amount of Zesti, I’m sure.”

Nightwing flicked Hood on the forehead. “Look– my questionable teenage diet has nothing to do with the fact that you two want fries named after a murderous psychopath–”

Robin tilted his head to the side – not exactly beating back the bird allegations there. “Doesn’t it though? I mean, orange juice cereal soup kind of makes you a psychopath too–”

“That’s it!”

Hood’s chuckling at the ridiculous argument was quickly drowned out by the shrieky giggles of a far-too-ticklish mini-vigilante. Nightwing was a flurry of quick jabs and wiggling fingers, digging into all the less-armored areas of Robin’s uniform he could reach – places that required mobility that didn’t allow for bulk, like knees and elbows and armpits. Robin squirmed like a feral alleycat, almost slipping off the edge of the roof if not for Nightwing’s quick reflexes.

That sick, slimy feeling returned to Jason’s chest, and Jason couldn’t help but poke at it with a metaphorical stick. It certainly wasn’t jealousy — no, he remembered the cloying, bitter tang of jealousy well, and this oozing stickiness didn’t quite fit the bill. Plus, why would he be jealous in the first place? It was pretty fucking funny to watch the newest Robin squirm around and squeak like a ferret shoved into a plastic tub of dry pasta.

… He really needed to tell Dick to stop sending him TikToks.

Whatever the itching in his chest, though, it was fucking obnoxious. Not even the muffled cheeps from the little bird could pull him out of it, as hilarious as watching the kid try to muffle his laughter was. It was a pretty useless endeavor, from what Hood remembered; Nightwing had gotten him like that once or twice, the few times they’d patrolled together before his world exploded (literally). Batman armored up the Robin suit more and more with each model, but there was no stopping the soft spots around joints for mobility — especially for a kid meant to be so flippy. He learned to never underestimate how ticklish knees and armpits and even fucking elbows could be when they were the only things accessible.

“Hood, help!” Robin called out, stupidly reaching an arm in his direction. Nightwing took swift advantage.

Hood scoffed, polishing an invisible smudge off his helmet. “You’re on your own, kid.” 

It came out a lot more sullen than he intended. The play fight paused next to him, an awkward silence filling the space instead. Nightwing cleared his throat.

“I guess I’ll go order for you little rebels. I’ll be right back.”

He flipped off the roof before they could say anything. So much for emotional intelligence. Robin fiddled with his gloves for a moment as Hood finally set aside his helmet, then piped up.

“It’s not your fault.”

Hood’s head snapped toward him. “What?”

“The stakeout. It’s not your fault, he tricked you.”

The back of Hood’s throat itched with the desire to snark back, tell the kid that he didn’t know shit about Hood, to quit making assumptions… But it was the perfect out. Plus, it wasn’t like the kid was totally off base, just tugging at the wrong sulky string.

“Supposed to be better than that — who knows what the asshole was actually up to tonight.”

Robin shrugged. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it sucks and there’s definitely gonna be consequences, but like — even Batman gets tricked sometimes.”

Hood went to rub at his eyes, only to stop short when he made contact with his domino mask. “Kid–”

“Plus, you weren’t the only one who missed it. Nightwing and I looked over the entire case file you sent over – twice – and missed it, too. Even Oracle went over it and didn’t catch it.”

“He’s good.”

“So? We’re better.”

Ah, the classic Robin confidence. Hood remembered it well. “What would you suggest then, smartass?”

He got a classic feral grin in return – almost the spitting image of Nightwing’s when he was in the traffic light colors. 

Alright, maybe Hood would hear the kid out.

*     *     *     *     *

The living room window slid open with a quiet hiss. Jason woke instantly, hand already reaching for the gun tucked underneath his pillows. He tossed off the threadbare sheets, rolling silently to his feet even as he heard the window hiss a second time. He hadn’t heard the intruder land – they were either smart, trained, or both. He lowered his center of gravity and slipped through his bedroom door, readying his gun as he steadied his breath, and–

“Little Wing? I know you’re home!”

Jason instantly lowered the gun, flicking the safety back on, and rose to his full height, just in time for Dick to saunter into view of the hallway.

“Goddammit, Dick. I almost shot you.”

Dick gave him a lopsided grin. “Aww, come on, Jay! You could never shoot me.”

“I literally have.”

Dick just shrugged, turning back to the living room and flopping onto the couch.

“Sure,” Jason scoffed, “make yourself at home.”

“Thanks! I think I will.”

Jason heaved a sigh and set his gun on the counter separating the living room and kitchen. “Seriously, man. What are you doing here? Aside from interrupting my evening nap.”

Dick shrugged again. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop in.”

“Yeah, cut the shit. No one just happens to be in Crime Alley.”

“Alright, alright, fine. I wanted to hang out with my baby brother, is that so wrong?”

“Well, you’re in the wrong place for that. Timmy-boy should be back at the Manor, shouldn’t he? Or are Mommy and Daddy Dearest back in town? Maybe check the Drake property.”

“He’s with his team, actually.” Dick rolled his eyes. “And I can have more than one baby brother, you know.”

Jason glanced around the room, making a show of peeking into the dark corners of the apartment. “I dunno, man. I’m not seeing any babies here.”

“Jay, come on.”

“You first.”

Dick pursed his lips, crossed his arms. They had a brief stare-off, but Dick relented faster than he expected, slumping into the lumpy old couch with a sigh.

“I wanted to check on you.”

Jason wrinkled his nose, his shoulders raising. “Why?”

“You just – you seemed sort of off last night, at the BatBurger.”

Jason scoffed, slipping into the kitchen proper. Doing something with his hands meant he didn’t have to look at Dick and his manipulative ass. “My stakeout went to shit, what do you want with me?”

Thankfully, Dick stayed on the couch. “You and Tim were joking around before you shut down.”

“Maybe it didn’t hit me right away.”

“And before that? You’ve been avoiding us since your concussion.”

Water. That was something to do with his hands. Jason grabbed a glass from the cupboard and debated for a moment whether he should fill it from the tap. Then again, if he intentionally poisoned himself with shitty Gotham water to escape this conversation, Dick would know immediately that he was right. He sighed, going for the jug in the fridge.

“I’ve been busy.”

“And before that? When you were acting weird?”

Jason turned toward him, looking at him like he was insane. “I had a concussion. What are you trying to get at here, Dick?”

Dick shrugged – god, Jason was getting sick of that – and leaned back into the couch. “You tell me.”

“You’re as paranoid as Bruce is.”

Dick hefted himself up from the couch, making his way toward Jason and leaning on the counter with crossed arms. The kitchen island was the only thing separating them.

“Your shoulders are squared and tensed, like you’re preparing for a blow–”

“Don’t.”

“–You’re trying to look busy, so you don’t have to look at me. You’re putting up literal walls between us, using the physical barriers of the counter and even your glass of water–”

“Dick, seriously. I’m warning you.”

“–You’ve got that tension around your eyes, that scrunch in your eyebrows, that happens when you’re upset about something–” 

“Fucking, stop! Just shut up!”

“Pretend you’re mad all you want, Jay. That look means you’re upset. Not mad, not angry or pissed off or full of fucking rage like you love to pretend you always are. Something’s bothering you – I don’t understand why it has to be like pulling teeth just to get you to admit it! Let alone talk about it, god forbid.”

“Jesus Christ, Dick! Can’t you mind your own business for once in your life? You’re not my keeper!”

“I’m not trying to control you, Jason! I’m just trying to help–”

“By studying me like– like a fucking bug under a microscope? Like one of the fucking Rogues?”

Dick took a deep breath, pushing himself up onto his palms and hanging his head. His hair flopped down around his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t have… analyzed you like that.”

Jason took a shuddering breath, setting aside his glass and leaning his own palms on the counter.

“I was worried about you. That doesn’t mean I should start treating you like a case. Acting like Bruce.”

Jason was silent for a few moments, their unsteady breathing becoming the only sound filling the apartment. He closed his eyes. “It’s hard to turn off.”

Dick ran a hand through his hair, letting out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it really is. Let me tell you, man, romantic partners? They really hate it when you pull that.”

Jason huffed. “Duly noted.”

Another stretch of silence. The sound of their breathing, slowing evening out. A thread of sirens blew past on the street below.

“... So?”

Jason slumped over, elbows on the counter as he ground the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. “Fuck, man, I don’t even know.”

Dick stayed silent, doing that obnoxious thing where he let Jason work through it on his own.

“I just, feel weird.”

“Weird how?”

Jason rubbed at his chest. “It’s sticky and oozing and uncomfortable.”

Dick stood up straight. “All the time?”

Jason shook his head.

“When?”

Jason pursed his lips. What was he even supposed to tell Dick? Oh, often when you’re giving the kid attention and not me – but it’s not jealousy, I promise! Yeah, Dick would believe that. Instead he took a page out of Dick’s book. He shrugged.

“Okay.” And Jason had no idea when Dick shifted, but suddenly he was halfway around the island, moving slowly like Jason was some kind of cornered animal. “It happened when you had the concussion and were stuck in the Cave. It happened again last night. Did it happen at all between then?”

Jason shrugged again.

Admittedly, yes, it had. He’d had way too much time to himself during his concussion, too much time to think and lose himself to memories – and it wasn’t like he immediately escaped his own mind once he got back in the field. Sometimes the feeling was caused by memories of Bruce (though those came with the bite of bitterness and anger) or Alfred, but it was mostly from his memories with Dick, few as they were. With the state of Bruce and Dick’s relationship when Jason was a snot-nosed little brat like Tim, Dick hadn’t been around often. They’d had a pretty rocky start, too – though not as rough as his and Tim’s vigilant equivalent of a fistfight behind the Waffle House at 3 a.m. Still, after Dick got his head out of his ass, he’d tried his best. The best an exhausted eighteen year old could after being replaced, and Jason couldn’t help but clutch onto those memories. 

Days where Dick would pick Jason up from school on his motorcycle and they’d go out for ice cream. Weekends when Bruce was on League missions or W.E. trips and Dick would come by and actually stay – movie nights, meals, training, anything they wanted to do (within reason – per Alfred, of course). Patrols, even when Dick and Bruce were barely talking, where Jason got to flit off with his predecessor and truly learn how to be Robin – things Batman couldn’t teach him, things only Dick knew. Goofing around like brothers, tussling and play-arguing and (though Jason would never admit fondness for the memories under pain of death) getting the shit tickled out of him.

There weren’t as many as Jason wished he had. And that was the problem.

“You know,” Dick started, and they’d been silent for so long that Jason almost jumped when he spoke, “this safehouse is pretty shit.”

The comment was such a non-sequiter that Jason actually sputtered a laugh. “It’s not an apartment, Dickhead. It’s a place to shower and crash before diving out and doing it again the next night.”

“I actually still keep some safehouses here in Gotham, just in case. Not Bat ones, my own. They’re pretty cushy.”

“What are you getting at?”

Dick gave him that innocent, puppy-eyed look. “Movie night? Batman-free?”

“And, what, skip patrol?”

Dick patted the counter with his palm before pushing off it and moving towards the door. “Timmy’s plan needs some time to set in motion – not much we can do about your guy tonight. Batman and the Birds of Prey should have the basic crime handled, I think.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Jason glanced around his pitiful safehouse, barely containing the bare essentials.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, palming his phone and following Dick out.

He ducked his head to hide his grin when Dick let out a whoop of victory.

*     *     *     *     *

Alright, fine. Maybe Dick was onto something with Jason’s safehouse being a piece of shit. Full up on greasy takeout with some mindless action movie on the TV, Jason was all but melted into the remarkably non-lumpy couch cushions. He wasn’t necessarily sleepy, but he could feel his eyes drooping with lazy contentment. Through his haze, he could hear Dick let out a quiet huff of a laugh right before a set of toes jabbed into his thigh.

“Someone’s comfortable.”

Jason shoved at Dick’s feet “Fuck off, man,” he said, though there was no heat in his voice. “You’ll ruin it.”

Dick laughed again, twisting his legs away from Jason’s swatting to poke at his legs again. “Come on, you can’t sleep yet! Movie night!”

“I’m not sleeping,” he groaned. “Quit kicking.”

Dick didn’t listen. In fact, he got even worse. Jason’s lax torso shook with the force of the constant prodding, mismatch-socked toes digging into his thigh and ribs and arm. He had fully slumped down the couch to reach, but even as stretched out as he was, he was too nimble for Jason to catch — especially when Jason’s limbs were still weighed down by drowsiness.

Well, two could play at that game — and Jason was taller and bulkier. He had this shit in the bag.

Jason swung his own legs up onto the couch, sitting with his back against the armrest. Dick’s eyes lit up with that mischievous twinkle of his, immediately engaging in this weird leg-war without giving Jason a moment to adjust. He didn’t even know what they were doing — just that he needed to be the one victorious and out-obnoxious Dick. Before too long, it turned into a fight over who could keep their legs on the inside, closest to the back of the couch — coveted for its defensibility. Jason was certain he was going to wake up with shins covered in bruises the next morning, but it didn’t matter. It still couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Especially not when he finally got his legs tucked up against the back of the couch. 

“Take that, Dickface!” He crowed, and promptly used his new leverage to fully kick Dick off the couch.

“Ow, hey! You’re such a sore winner!”

Jason grinned at him over the edge of the couch, his chest lighting up at the playful scowl on Dick’s face. Somewhere, deep inside where he hadn’t even known he’d locked it away, some small fragment of the boy he’d once been was practically singing with joy. Maybe not every piece of that kid was lost.

“Shut up, you big baby,” he said. “That didn’t even hurt.”

Dick flipped him the bird. “I’ll show you hurt!”

He snatched up Jason by the ankles, yanking and managing to tug Jason about a foot down the couch. Jason yelped and reached up and behind himself to grab at the arm of the couch. When Dick just pulled harder, Jason started trying to kick him off.

“Such a cheater!” Dick said.

“Literally how in the fuck am I even cheating?”

“Come on, let go!”

Jason held on tighter. He tried to pull himself higher back onto the couch, but despite having the upper hand when it came to brute strength, Dick had the better leverage. They just got stuck in some fucked-up game of tug-of-war, Jason being the rope.

Dick suddenly started scratching at the bottom of his socked foot with his fingers. Despite what his initial, instinctive flinch suggested, Jason actually didn’t feel much of the sensation. He was more grateful than ever that he refused Steph’s constant invites to get pedicures with her and Dick (and sometimes Tim, when she forced him) – those were his callouses and dead skin, thank you very much, and they clearly left him well-armored.

“Come on,” Dick whined. “You used to be ticklish here!”

“Tough shit, Dickface. Some of us grow out of that.”

Dick narrowed his eyes and a thrill went down Jason’s spine. Then, like he had fucking telepathy or some shit, Dick grinned. Big and evil and full of big-brother-malice, the likes of which Jason hadn’t seen directed at himself in so many years.

“You’re such a shit liar.”

“I’m a fucking phenomenal liar, thank you very— Dick!”

Dick wasted no time in launching himself back onto the couch, fully on top of Jason, hands aiming for his torso. Jason barely managed to catch him by the wrists, grunting at the impact even as he tried to twist Dick’s arms to the side at a weird enough angle that he’d be forced to follow and fall off the couch. Unfortunately, Dick was made of overcooked noodles and silly string, so he could easily contort his body with Jason’s manipulations. Jason did the next best thing he could think of: he rolled them off the couch, fighting to land on top. If he could get Dick pinned under him, that was it, he would be safe. Hell, he might even be able to get revenge for all the tickle attacks from when he was a kid.

Dick laughed as they fell. “Nice try, Jay!”

They landed on the carpet with a loud thud, probably about to win the award for World’s Worst Upstairs Neighbors, and Jason was instantly confronted with the next fault in his plan.

Noodles and fucking silly string.

As much as Jason scrambled for the upper hand, twisting and shoving and grappling, Dick was too slippery. His years of experience, both in the circus and in the suit, outpaced Jason’s brute strength at every turn. No matter how Jason tried to pin him, Dick managed to slither out of his grip like a greased eel, laughing like a motherfucker all the while. It was almost like he was playing with Jason — which he confirmed when he twisted in some complicated, incomprehensible maneuver and pinned Jason on his stomach, wrists pressed into the carpet on either side of his head.

“Get your fat ass off of me!”

“My ass is a perfectly normal size, thank you very much!”

“Tell that to Twitter!” 

Dick tutted. “You’re only making this worse for yourself, baby brother.”

Jason glared at Dick over his shoulder. “Who are you calling a fucking baby, asshole?” 

“Overcompensating with swearing doesn’t make you not my baby brother, Jay.”

“Fuck you!”

“Alright, alright!” Dick laughed, settling himself more firmly over Jason’s thighs. “I’ll put you out of your misery.”

Jason’s wrists were freed, but before he could do anything about it, there were fingers prodding up under his arms, searching around his upper ribs and the soft spots in his armpits. He yelped, pinning his arms down against his sides in a classically futile defense, and prayed to any deity with their ears open that the Lazarus Pit fixed whatever part of his brain that made him completely useless when he was tickled.

“See! A liar!”

Jason grit his teeth, trying not to smile at the experimental prodding. “Cut it out, Dick!”

“No, no — see, I think you deserve this. You’ve been getting off way too easy since you got back. I mean, when’s the last time I even tickled the absolute snot out of you?”

Jason growled, ducking his head as his struggles continued to try and hide the heat gathering in his cheeks.

“Exactly! And see, I could just go right for your hips, quick and ruthless as the Red Hood himself, but where would the fun in that be?”

A wobbly grin started to form despite Jason’s best efforts. “I’ll make sure your death is slow.”

“So you can spend more time with me? Aww, Jay! That’s so sweet!”

Suddenly, the poking and prodding fingers wrapped around Jason’s upper ribs, some stretching up into his armpit. Then, they started pulsing. Jason’s nerves lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, the sensation shockingly nostalgic and starkly unfamiliar all at once. He wheezed once into the carpet, failing to hold back his laughter anymore, and cracked into low, raspy chuckles.

“Liar.” Dick said again, smug as hell.

Jason didn’t dare try to reply. He could feel the higher-pitched laughter filling his chest, and it was all he could do to keep the noises escaping him low and rough. If he tried to talk, he had no doubt he’d lose his grip on that control. 

Except — Dick’s hands started moving. The pulsing turned into wiggly squeezes as Dick’s hands started making their way down his ribs and sides. A giddy sort of panic filled Jason’s chest. Dick just said going right for his hips was too easy, but was that a fakeout? He started squirming even more, trying to wriggle his way out from under Dick’s weight.

“Ge-get away!” 

Dick laughed. “Why? Do my hands right here—“ he tazed his fingers into the meat of Jason’s sides, just above the hypersensitivity of his hips “—make you nervous?” 

Growling through laughter was a bit of a moot point, Jason quickly found out. It was all wavering and jittery and stuttering. Dick only cooed at him even more, the absolute asshole.

“Don’t worry, baby bro — I’ll save the best for last.”

The hands vanished from his sides, letting Jason gasp in a full breath, before materializing around his nape and ears. Jason squeaked — fucking squeaked, goddamnit — and nearly slammed his forehead against the ground as he flinched away. The fingers gave a particularly devastating scratch at the curves of his neck and shoulders for that.

“Careful!” Dick didn’t even have the decency to sound sorry. “Knocking yourself out just delays the tickles — and then they build up and up and up, and they’ll be even worse when they finally catch you again!”

“That doesn’t—“ dammit, there was the high-pitched, warbling voice, “doesn’t even make any sense!”

He sniggered into the carpet, shaking his head as he tried to dodge the finger tips and nails wreaking havoc on his skin, and if he got rug burn on his face, Dick was going to pay. His shoulders shrugged and shimmied around like some kind of deranged turtle tearing it up on the dance floor, and Jason couldn’t even dedicate the brain cells he needed to be properly embarrassed about that. Every cylinder was too busy firing on it tickles, it tickles, it tickles!! Well, all except the one sneaky little cylinder betraying Jason’s hard-earned image, giddy and happy and full of mushy-little-brother feelings that he didn’t want to touch with a fifteen foot pole.

For a split second, Dick’s fingers jumped down and wiggled at the edges of his shoulderblades before returning to his neck. Jason jolted like he’d been electrocuted, his shriek so ear-piercing that it hurt even his own hearing. Fuck — did that always tickle that bad? Dick cackled above him. 

“Careful, Little Wing! Those shoulders keep dancing and my fingers just might be tempted to join them.”

Oh, fuck no. No way. If that’s just how a quick tickle felt, his entire body lighting up with the sparks of it, there was no way that was happening again. And that was just his back! If Dick got to his hips? It was game over for Jason. His pride (and his vocal cords) would never recover. As much as that small little part of him was having fun, had made it so maybe he wasn’t trying to get away as best as he could, it was time Jason called it quits. He had a reputation to maintain, even if Dick had already shredded half of it to ribbons.

As unbearable as the tickles around his neck and ears were, it was far from being one of Jason’s worst spots. That meant, although he had to fight hard for those dregs of composure, he still had some control over his faculties. All he needed to do was to throw Dick off, and once the tingly tickles stopped, he could whip his metaphorical mask back on and be all surly and pissed and keep Dick from doing it again.

No matter how much this stupid torment felt like coming home.

Slow and trembling, Jason was able to get his arms braced against the floor. Still chuckling endlessly and swallowing back the giggles that wanted to burst forth, Jason counted to three in his head before finally pushing off the ground, his forearms grounded as his torso lifted.

“Oh — thanks, Jason!” Dick’s hands darted into the space between the floor and his body. “I was wondering how I was gonna get in there!”

The second Dick’s fingers touched down on his stomach, pinching and kneading and scratching and really just doing all of the most evil things possible to his nerves, Jason was a goner. The ticklish shock sent Jason right back to the ground, only pressing Dick’s hands deeper into his muscles. Though Jason’s initial squawk was in his usual deep register, the laughter that jumped out of him was nowhere close. It wasn’t giggles, thank fucking god, but the bright, bubbly laughter being forced out of him might’ve been just as bad.

“You— asshole!”

“Aww, listen to you! Did I find a good tickle spot?”

Fuck Dick, he knew that — and he knew rubbing it in only made it worse, too. The urge to curl up in a protective ball was all-consuming, but with Dick pinning him on his stomach, his legs could only scrabble uselessly at the floor as they tried to draw up to his chest. Jason’s arms, at the very least, still had freedom of movement. He glued his elbows to his sides while his forearms tucked up under his chest, his hands curled into fists. That bright, boyish laughter continued to tumble from his lips, and not even shoving his face into the carpet could muffle it.

“You always had the cutest reaction to tummy tickles, huh? I mean, Timmy does too, so you guys are tied now, but still! Maybe it’s just a baby brother thing.”

Dropping Tim’s ticklish secrets wouldn’t save Dick from getting murdered later, but Jason definitely tucked that one into the back of his mind. Well, he tried to. Hoped he did. It was kind of hard to think around the tickles and Dick’s teasing.

“You sound just like you did when you were a kiddie, though! All cute and bubbly and bright – I didn’t even know your voice could go this high anymore.”

Yeah, neither did Jason. “Shut the fuck up!”

Dick chuckled. “Really, Jay? Have you been reduced to nothing but curse words and posturing anger already? We need to get your tolerance back up!”

Oh god, Dick was going to do this again? His chest did that mortifyingly melty, gooey thing again and Jason shoved his face further into the carpet. He’d undoubtedly been pink since Dick had started, had probably blushed darker when his laughter turned all bubbly and borderline fucking sweet, but now? Jason could feel the heat flush down his neck and up into his ears – even the back of his neck burned. Based on the way he cooed above Jason, Dick had definitely noticed.

“Don’t worry – I’ll make sure you get plenty of tickles going forward. We have so many missed tickles to make up for, too! Say, when are you free next?”

“Never!”

Dick blew a sudden raspberry on the back of his neck. Jason squeaked and giggled and hunched his shoulders, drumming his feet against the carpet. 

“Don’t be a brat. I can always just break into your safehouses, Tickle Monster style.”

Motherfucker. Jason hadn’t thought about that in years – not even on his trips during memory lane the past weeks. Sometimes, on Dick’s rare Manor visits, he’d come by without letting anyone know and hide himself away. Usually, it was an area Jason frequented, like the library or den or even kitchen. Hallways weren’t off-limits, either. Hell, he even hid in Bruce’s study once, when the old man had already been downstairs. And then, when Jason would pass through the space, he’d get a surprise tickle attack from none other than Dick Grayson. He’d learned to check the front hall upon arriving home eventually, looking for Dick’s jacket or shoes or keys, but knowing the dumbass was there and avoiding his attacks were two very different things. It had led to some absolutely legendary chases through the Manor, though. Even if Alfred nearly had their hides for it a few times.

“Try it,” Jason hissed, miserably failing to sound as threatening as he wanted to. Laughing like a little kid tended to do that.

“Challenge accepted, JayJay.”

“Stop fucking babying me, you– NO!”

Jason was given absolutely no warning as Dick’s hands shot from his stomach down to his hips. He all but screamed before going limp against the floor, cackling madly. A thumb to the divot of his hip was bad enough, but being pinned face down meant Dick had four whole fingers to dig into the spot. 

“I think we oughta ease you back into the swing of things, huh Lil’ Wing? Figured I’d give you your grand finale now, before you got too tuckered out.”

“Dickie, no no nonono!”

Dick’s weight shifted, but he didn’t lift himself from Jason’s body. His voice was mortifyingly fond and thick when he spoke next. “Wanna know something, baby brother?” He leaned down again, putting his voice right next to Jason’s ear. “I missed spending time and playing around with you, too. You could’ve just asked.”

Jason scrubbed his head against the floor, only giving a fraction of his attention to trying not to rug burn himself. The rest of his mind was all warm fuzzies and ticklish screams.

Dick’s voice turned playful again, though the fondness remained. “I guess this is more fun though, huh?  Good thing you invited me over to do it again and again and again!”

“Dick– Dick, please!”

Jason can’t remember the last time he begged from tickles. Even as a kid, he was stubborn as all hell, but – the fondness, the emotions, the teasing dialing everything up to eleven? It was a lot. Jason’s pride would have to take the hit this time. Thankfully, Dick immediately drew his hands away and reseated himself next to Jason on the floor. Jason curled up his protective little ball, knees tucked up toward his chest and arms wrapped around them. It was more difficult than the last time he’d done it, his new bulk and musculature getting in the way, but he hadn’t lost all of his Robin-hood flexibility.

Dick snorted softly. “You always were a little pillbug.”

“Sh’dd’p.”

Dick chuckled again. His hand landed on Jason’s back, but even palm-flat, Jason instinctively flinched and yipped. Another laugh, and Dick’s hand was removed. Despite the assumption of tickles, Jason had to hold back a whine from the loss of contact.

“Alright, alright, sorry. Too ticklish, I know.”

Dick’s hand reappeared in his hair instead, dragging through the tangled curls, slow and steady. Jason hummed, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Just take some time to recover. Then we’ll get back to the movie, all cuddled up on the couch now that you can’t pretend that you’re a big grump anymore, and you’ll get some good sleep. All snug as a bug in a rug.”

“Not a lil’ kid.”

“I know, Jason. But you’ll always be my little brother.”

Tissue paper rustled as Jason pawed through the bag’s contents. Tim kept his eyes focused on the carpet. It took most of his willpower to hold back the excited energy that made him want to grin and pace back and forth. 

Jason made a confused-sounding noise. “What the hell is this – oh, you little shit. Timothy fucking Drake-Wayne, you fucking did not –” 

At that, Tim finally looked over at him and instantly grinned when he saw the mixture of bafflement and embarrassment making Jason’s mouth twist up like that. Jason was sitting there, red-faced, trying to glare at Tim even though it kind of looked like he wanted to smile instead. In his hands, had a red, oblong stuffed toy that had a banana-like curve to it. 

“Wait,” Dick said suddenly, reaching out and making grabby hands for Jason’s gift. “No way. Is that a red pillbug plushie?” 

“It is,” Tim said, and he let himself laugh as Jason flipped him off. “And it’s not a prank! It’s true, it made me think of him, and his room here’s so boring now that he’s old and took down his posters–”

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, kid,” Jason growled as he lunged off the couch towards Tim’s perch on the coffee table. 

Tim let Jason tackle him into a headlock that came with enough hair ruffling to rattle his teeth. He squirmed and snickered and squeaked when Jason poked at some of his more ticklish ribs, and overall happily settled into the role of little brother who knows he’s being annoying and enjoys it. When Jason was satisfied with his vengeance, he hauled Tim up with him and plodded back over to the couch. 

Instead of going back to his spot on the table, Tim crawled onto the couch next to him and shoved his head under Jason’s arm, snuggling up against him. 

“You’re annoying,” Jason said with absolutely no heat in his voice. 

“You’re a plushie,” Tim retorted. He grinned, and his cheeks ached. It was going to be a great Christmas. 

━━━━━━━━━━

The first time it happened, Tim’s phone nearly vibrated off the nightstand when six texts from Dick came through at once. Ugh. Tim was barely awake, but he swiped his phone open just to be sure nothing horrible had happened.

DeeG: tim!! j’s roomNOW

DeeG: Tim. Tiiiiiiiiim!!! 

DeeG: image.png

DeeG: he’s sleeping w it

DeeG: im DYING

DeeG: timmy wake up u have to come see. 

The photo attachment – Tim squinted and had to hold his phone right up to his face to make out the blurry image without his glasses – oh, it was Jason. 

Jason who’d evidently crashed hard last night because he was sprawled over his comforter, the side of his face smashed into a pillow, one of his legs half-curled up towards his stomach. There was something red in his arms that looked like it was partially wedged under his head. 

Oh, it was the pillbug. 

Funnily enough, with that realization, Tim was much, much more awake. He scrambled out of bed and just barely avoided getting his feet stuck in his sheets, then scurried across the hall to where Dick was standing in Jason’s doorway. 

“Is it real?” he asked, then yawned. 

Dick turned sideways so Tim could see past him. “Sure is, Baby Bird. See for yourself.” 

Just like in the picture, Jason was indeed sleeping with the stuffed pillbug Tim had gifted him for Christmas. He was practically curled up around it. 

Thinking about Jason and sweet in the same sentence didn’t feel entirely natural, even though Tim had had plenty of opportunities to see the softer, mushier side of Jason’s personality bleed through here and there. Maybe it was because Jason was built out like a fridge and an NFL linebacker had a baby that spawned fully-formed. Yeah, that was probably it. 

“Aww,” Tim whispered, leaning against Dick’s arm. 

Dick adjusted his stance to wrap said arm around Tim’s shoulders and pull him into a sideways hug. “Yeah. I got a picture to send to Wally, it’ll put me at least ten points up.” 

Ah, yes. Dick and Wally had been embattled in a contest over who had the cutest little siblings for over a month. The scoring system made absolutely no sense, but they stuck to it fastidiously. All that Tim and Bart had learned was that the instant those two started bickering, the topic would eventually come around to that, and it was best to not be in the room unless they wanted a double-barreled helping of older brother teasing. 

Tim hummed in acknowledgement.

Dick pocketed his phone. “Think we should wake him up?” 

“No!” To make sure Dick understood that this was important, Tim looked up at him with the best wide-eyed, earnest expression he could muster while still waking up. “If he knows you saw, he’ll stop.”

The way Dick’s mouth twitched at the corners was eerily similar to Bruce, but instead of saying anything, he just leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Tim’s forehead. When he leaned back, it was to give Tim the mushiest, sappiest smile in his repertoire, and it was too early for Tim to know what to do with that so he just turned to his long-reliable move of hiding his face in Dick’s shoulder. 

“Alright, Tim, let’s let him sleep.” 

“Yeah,” Tim mumbled. “If you stare at him for too long he senses it and wakes up.”

Dick’s answering chuckle rumbled through his chest. He steered Tim backwards into the hallway, then closed Jason’s door. By then, Tim had shifted away, ready to be perceived again. 

“Is that what all the yelling and squeaking was on Christmas?” 

Or maybe being perceived was a bad idea. The heat spreading up Tim’s cheeks certainly thought so. 

“Maybe,” he said, hedging. On Christmas, he’d originally gone into Jason’s room to wake him up but ended up wondering if Jason could sense eyes on him, even in his sleep. The answer had turned out to be yes, but the price for that knowledge was being dragged down into a headlock and tickled silly.

For once, Dick didn’t press. He just ruffled Tim’s hair and started for the stairs, motioning for Tim to follow. “You’re probably right that he should sleep,” the casual lilt to the words immediately set Tim’s teeth on edge, “but I was going to tickle him. Sleeping with the pillbug is basically an open invitation. Plus I’m heading back to Blud today, so I need another hit for the road.” 

Since Tim was still a little tired and a lot out of it, he didn’t sense the trap. Instead, he just stifled a yawn and asked, “Hit of what?” 

“Little brother giggles, obviously,” Dick replied, shooting him a smirk. He jumped the last six stairs and pivoted midair so he landed facing Tim and spread his arms out like he wanted a hug. “Luckily, you’re right here.” 

Tim couldn’t halt his momentum in time to keep out of reach, so he just yelped when Dick grabbed him in a bear hug and threw him over his shoulder as he marched towards the kitchen. 

“Dick!” he cried, cut off by a wave of uncontrollable giggles when Dick wormed one hand free to dig into his stomach. “He-hehey, it’s too earlyhehe!”  

He could hear the smile in Dick’s voice when his older brother replied with, “Sorry, Timmy, can’t hear you. Could you try not to giggle? Unless you’re super tickly ticklish, I guess – oh, sounds like it.” Dick, evil genius that he was, followed that statement up by spidering his fingers across one of those soft spots next to Tim’s navel that sent him into peal after peal of helpless giggles, no matter how much he kicked and thrashed. 

Oh, Jason was going to owe him big, huge, gigantic for this one. 

“Tim,” Jason growled, but he didn’t seem too intimidating as he jabbed his elbow back to knock Tim’s hand away from his side. 

“Hey, I convinced Dick to let you sleep,” Tim said.  He clumsily patted the top of Jason’s head. “And he got me instead. Ergo, you owe me.” 

Once Dick was safely off to Bludhaven, Tim had gone right back upstairs and threw himself onto Jason’s bed, working off of the rickety logic that since Tim had spared Jason from Dick’s mischief, Jason had to put up with some of Tim’s own shenanigans. 

The bedframe cracked as Jason shifted on his side to smirk at him over his shoulder. “So that’s what all the racket was earlier. I could hear you from up here, giggle brat.”

Heat exploded in Tim’s cheeks as he tried to glare at his dumb older brother. “I took one for team little brother, okay? I’m entitled to some recompense.” 

“You’re entitled to jack-fuckin’-shit, you little – hey.” Jason’s voice carried a warning note as Tim poked him in the side again, but he didn’t actually move to uncurl. 

“Besides, you’ve been all growly and boring lately.” Tim poked him another time, grinning as Jason’s attempt at a growl came out more like a strangled shriek. “You should lighten up a bit.” 

This time, instead of going for Jason’s side, Tim decided to try something he’d caught Bruce doing a couple times – only Bruce, though, never Dick, which made it seem like Dick might not even know… 

Tim prodded into the edge of Jason’s shoulderblade, right next to his armpit, and Jason jerked like a wild horse. 

“Timmy!” 

Oh god, his voice cracked. Tim almost cackled, but restrained himself at the last minute. 

“I’ve only seen B do that,” he said, and he thought he managed to keep most of the laughter out of his voice. “Does Dick even know about this spot?” 

Jason – Jason tightened his grip on the pillbug, pressing his forehead against it with a muffled, “I will end your life.” 

“Nah. I’m your perfect baby brother,” Tim said as he used his thumb and index finger to make a light series of pinches in that spot, right at the top of the crease where Jason was trying to keep his arm clamped to his side. “You don’t want to kill me, you – oh, that bad, huh? In this teeny tiny spot? No wonder Dick has no clue.” 

One of Jason’s legs had spasmed outwards as he started giggling, sounding almost hysterical. “Cu-cuhut it out!” 

“Oh.” Tim pulled out his best impression of Jason’s own sarcastic deadpan. “Oh no. I’m terrified.” 

He switched from pinches to wriggling, vibrating pokes, switching fingers. As that kept Jason in a fit of hiccupy giggles, Tim used his other hand to worm down to Jason’s stomach and dig in. 

“Aww, you’ve got a soft pillbug underbelly.” 

Jason shrieked something unintelligible into the stuffed pillbug. His ears had gone bright red, and he tried to curl up tighter – as if pinning Tim’s hand there would actually stop him. Nice try, Red Hood. 

“Ohh, I see why Dick does this all the time. I think you’re actually, like, adorable? Damn. Surprises every day, I guess.”  

Jason’s shoulders shook as he tried to muffle his laughter in his pillow. It was an unsuccessful effort, but it’s not like Tim had any ground to judge him for it. 

“I’m–I–fuhuck off!” Jason finally managed to get a couple words out around his snickering. 

Tim smirked down at him. The rush of having the upper hand – and yes, he was fully aware that he was being delusional about it, since Jason never let anyone make him do anything he didn’t already want to – gave him some extra confidence, since he was usually on the other side of this particular equation. 

“Why would I do that, Jase? I’m learning so many new things about you.” He used the hand that was currently digging into Jason’s abdominals to skitter up over his side, then reached over to squeeze at his kneecap. 

Jason’s whole body jerked as he snorted, still giggling as Tim kept poking around the edge of his shoulder blade, too. Most of his face was hidden between the stuffed pillbug and his pillows, but what Tim could see of his face and neck were flushed crimson. For a hardened, League-trained vigilante, it was surprisingly easy to make Jason blush if you knew how to get under his skin. 

“Just be glad it’s me, not Dick,” Tim teased, snickering at Jason’s resulting groan. “You know it’d be so much worse for you, right?” 

The next part of his plan required taking advantage of his older brother’s spastic reflexes, so Tim jammed his hand between Jason’s other side and the mattress to prod at that hip. As he’d predicted during his long strategy session (read: blearily eating a bowl of cereal after Dick finished tickling him into a puddle), Jason swore and tried to flip onto his front. That actually made it easier for Tim to lean forward and wrap his arms around Jason’s torso so he could use both hands to tickle his stomach. 

“Shit!” Jason yelped, and he was starting to sound a little hoarse from all the giggling and whining he’d been doing. “You goddamn brat–heyheyhehehey!” 

Tim just grinned and kept pulsing his fingers into the lower part of Jason’s stomach, focusing on the section near his bellybutton that drew some reluctant giggles from his big brother. 

“Do you pillbug to hide this? Or is that what all your kevlar’s really for? Gotta protect the squishy, tickly parts, I guess.” Tim’s face muscles were starting to ache from how much he’d been smiling, but he couldn’t help it. He so so so rarely got to be the one tickling either of his older brothers, and he had to make the most of it. And, sure, he was practically digging his own grave and jumping in feet-first, but it was worth it.

 “Literally no one would take you seriously if they knew how easy it was to make you giggle, like, even though I know you’re gonna kill me for doing this, I physically can’t be intimidated by you right now.” 

Instead of flipping over and tackling Tim off the bed to show him just how intimidated he should be, Jason just kicked one foot out against the mattress with an embarrassed-sounding groan. And more giggles, of course. 

Since this whole thing was still a trust exercise – Jason willingly letting Tim at his softer underbelly…literally and metaphorically…, Tim pushing back but not too far – it shouldn’t go on for too much longer. 

With that thought in mind, Tim stopped tickling. Since Jason was still shaking with residual sniggers, Tim patted his stomach – his brothers usually did that whenever the leftover prickles kept setting Tim off into rounds of wheezy giggles, even after all the actual tickles had stopped. It seemed to help Jason, too. Eventually he heaved out a shuddering sigh and rolled back onto his side, clutching the pillbug plushie close to his chest. All the laughing and hiding had plastered some of his hair to his forehead. Tim smoothed those curls back, then patted his forehead. 

Jason’s nose wrinkled and he rolled his eyes, but smiled the whole time. A faint blush still colored most of his face, but he seemed plenty relaxed as he sighed again. 

Tim took that as his cue to give into his more obnoxious impulses. He let himself fall forward, sprawling across Jason’s form. “Hi.” 

He felt Jason’s laugh rumble through his whole body. “Hey, Timbers.”

“Move your elbow, it’s digging into my skull.”

Jason chuckled again, but obliged, draping his arm across Tim’s back instead. “You come into my room, jump on my bed, attack me, then collapse on me like rebar, and still have demands? Shit, kiddo, you’ve gotta stop hanging out with Dick. He’s a bad influence.” 

Tim snickered. “I’m glad you like Icey.” 

“Who the fuck is Icey?” 

It took some effort, but Tim flailed out one of his hands and smacked the stuffed pillbug. “Icey the Isopod. Oh, that’s the scientific name for pillbu–”

“I know that–”

“Okay, okay. Just wanted to check. You can name him whatever, though.” 

“...his name’s RedPod.”

Any other time or place, Tim would’ve teased him about that, but Jason was already being vulnerable, so… 

“I can make him a matching helmet.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“I know you’re not.” Jason stretched his arms up over his head, groaning a little as something in his shoulders popped, then knocked on Tim’s head. “Alright, up. I’m starving.”

Groaning, mostly for dramatic effect, Tim rolled off of Jason and hauled himself to his feet. “I won’t tell Dick about your shoulder.”

After digging around in a pile of clothes, Jason withdrew a well-worn Wonder Woman t-shirt and tugged it over his head. He snagged Tim with an arm draped over his shoulders on his way out the door, tugging him close and lightly jostling him. 

“Oh, I believe you,” Jason said at last. “You’ll have bigger priorities soon enough, anyways.” He winked as he steered them both towards the kitchen.