Rosie's Ramblings

….

Clark bops along to the Crabjoy’s mightiest hits, occasionally breaking out in air drums or air guitar when the melody really gets to him. Their music fills him with hope, every time. It reminds him of racing cars down long dirt roads and disappearing into the corn before anyone could get a good look.

“You’re such a dork.” Lois shakes her head fondly.

“It’s good music!” Clark throws his hands up.

“In your dreams, Smallville. They play this at the grocery store. That’s an automatic demerit.” She sticks her tongue out a little as she works.

She wipes a little excess off the edge of Clark’s toe and he flinches a little. The bottle of nail polish tilts onto his foot. Cursing softly, Lois catches the bottle and starts wiping it off of his sole.

Regretfully, Clark squeaks.

“What was that?” Her head snaps up.

“Nothing,” he says, far too quickly, and he can tell by the razor glint in her eye that he has mere seconds to find an out. He racks his brain for something, anything—

“Oh my god. Are you ticklish, Clark?”

Too late.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times. She grins wickedly.

“Alright, well—Lois—“

She scribbles experimentally at his sole and Clark yelps. He slides down on the couch and buries his face in his hands.

“Don’t do that.” She chides, as if she isn’t the cause. “Stop hiding. I like your smile.”

“Gosh, you are so…” He peeks between his fingers. She’s beautiful, is what she is.

“The polish has to dry, Clark. Don’t mess it up.” Lois starts tickling his foot in earnest and Clark muffles a squeal into his hands. She has nails and it’s evil, it’s so evil, and his foot is vibrating with the effort not to move.

She’s a menace, is what she is. He loves her, but golly, she might kill him.

He keels over on the couch and squeezes the life out of a throw pillow, but he leaves his foot there. The polish has to dry. She worked so hard on it. This is fine. He’s Superman. He can handle it.

He gigglesnorts. Lois gasps. He groans.

“Your ankles? Really?” Lois looks like a kid on Christmas morning. Clark doesn’t have air to defend himself, so he just shakes his head.

Lois goes back to his sole and he jumps. The coffee table releases a concerning creak under his foot. Worried about it, he tries to reel in his foot, but Lois starts poking under his toes, what is wrong with her?

“Okayokayokay—“ He says in one giggly rush of breath, desperately gripping her shoulders— “Genuinely, I might kick you.”

Lois gasps, mock offended. Clark rolls his eyes.

“How dare you—“

“Lois—“

“Superman threatening a member of the press? In her own home?” Lois clutches her imaginary pearls. She tries to poke him and he grabs her hands.

“All I’m saying is I don’t want to hurt you. If you tickle me there there is a high chance of that.” He implores her to understand with his eyes.

“So I can tickle you somewhere else and you’ll keep it together?” Lois raises her brow.

“That is not what I said.” Clark feels his face burn hotter than his own lasers.

“That’s exactly what you said.” Lois grins. Clark chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking about it. He can’t hurt her. He can’t. But if she really has to behave like a little goblin…

“Alright, I guess…if you don’t touch my legs I think we’ll be fine.” Clark pinches the bridge of his nose again, more to hide his face than anything.

“My god, you’re so fucking cute. You didn’t actually have to tell me.” Lois blinks at him, the mischievous edge melting from her expression.

“You asked!” He laughs, half out of disbelief. It’s always this game with them. She tells him that he’s too open, too trusting, as if she didn’t hold his heart in her hands from the very first moment they met.

“Okay, well, if you’re offering, I’m taking you up on that.” She climbs on top of him on the couch. He throws his hands up between them in surrender.

“I wouldn’t say I’m offering—“ She shoves her fingers under his shirt and he cuts himself off with a bark of laughter. Her hands are way colder than he expects. He makes a mental note to start sneaking more iron-rich foods into their dinners.

Laughter spills freely from his mouth, no matter how much he fights to stop it. Stem it, at least. There’s no hope for him though, not when the thrill of her touch keeps what meager walls he possesses at bay. He peeks at her and catches a glimpse of a searing smile. His heart soars right into his throat and sticks. She’s so clearly having fun. Tormenting him, sure, but gosh….that smile.

Clark rolls over on his stomach and presses his burning face to the cushions. Seeing her look at him like that…he feels too big for his bones, like a gangly teenager all over again.

“This isn’t very effective, Clark.” She shoves her hands under his arms, seeking his ribs, and he nearly flips them both off the couch.

“T-Thank you for the feedback!” He shrieks. She laughs softly. She has no concept of how close he is to shattering her knuckles with his biceps. He can’t, so he won’t, but he could, so she really has to stop.

He rolls partially over and grabs her wrist. She finds a seam of muscle at his side and then he’s boneless, squinting at her through teary eyes.

“Alright, alright. Don’t die on me.” Lois skates her nails over his back. Goosebumps chase her fingers across his skin. He melts beneath her touch as if snow was the only thing holding him together.

“That’s nice.” He hums, shimmying back towards her. He pillows his head on his arms. She traces the taut lines of his muscles across his back and he shivers.

…

“Buck. Bucky.”

Bucky jolted awake. He processed Sam’s warm smile and gentle touch quickly enough to avoid drawing the gun hidden in the couch cushions.

“Mmm. Hey.” Bucky stretched, reaching for Sam’s hip. Sam squeezed his hand.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

“Wha? What time is it?” Bucky fumbled for his phone on the coffee table. The screen brightness singed his retinas.

“It’s only 8:30.” Bucky frowned.

“It’s past your bedtime, gramps.”

“Fuck off,” he said without any heat.

“You’re drooling on my throw pillows.” Sam huffed. Bucky’s gaze trailed over him—he was still wearing the bottom half of his Captain America suit. It fit him very well, and Bucky let himself admire this, as he could not be seen fawning over the good Captain in public.

How lovely it was to open his eyes here, the first place that was really starting to feel like his own, and see Sam there. Changes, indeed.

“I’m not coming to bed yet. Did you even—“ Bucky wiggled around so he could see Sam better— “Did you eat?”

“Yea, baby. I’ve been talking to you this whole time. I thought you were ignoring me, but then I heard you snoring.” The corner of Sam’s mouth lifted just slightly, but it still brightened his whole face.

“I don’t snore.” Bucky frowned.

“Like a freight train.” Sam gave Bucky’s chest a fond pat. “At this point, X-Files is watching you. C’mon.”

Sam extended his hand.

“I’m not going.” Bucky sniffed petulantly and settled down into the cushions.

“I’m not asking. We’ve got an early morning with the Secretary tomorrow and I don’t wanna hear you complaining.” Sam wiggled his fingers. Bucky turned up his chin. Sure, this was a stupid hill to die on, but he’d already planted his flag.

“Buck. Give me the remote.”

“Come and get it.” Bucky folded his arms behind his head, dropping the remote beside his pillow.

”Next time I ask you, I’m gonna kick your ass. Give me the remote.” Sam’s voice sent a shiver down his spine. Not unpleasantly.

”You’re gonna kick my ass? You, America’s Sweetheart?” Bucky smirked. He squinted at the TV, trying to suss out how many episodes of X-Files he’d slept through.

Sam lunged. Bucky rolled backwards over the arm of the couch, landing with the remote in hand like one of his favorite knives. He expected Sam to stop. Reevaluate, at least. Instead, Sam swept his legs, caught him, and hefted him bridal-style into his arms.

Bucky’s mouth forgot the shape of all the words he’d learned over the years, even the snarky ones he so badly wanted to launch, leaving him spluttering out nonsense. He’d never been…carried before. Not like this.

He flung his legs up and went to wrap them around Sam’s neck, fully intending to bring him down—even at the cost of another coffee table— but Sam smoothly blocked and flipped him. Bucky laid draped over Sam’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes for several stunned moments. Sam locked his arm across Bucky’s legs, and it may as well have been a steel bar. He started moving them towards the bedroom, whistling all the while.

When did this happen? Sam had always been a good wrestler—good fighter, really—but he never contested Bucky’s strength directly. He moved with Buck, or around him, the wake to his tide.

He tested his legs against Sam’s grip, fully planning to somersault out of this, as he did most things. A strong hand dug into his thigh and all of Bucky’s logical thought fell out of his ears.

“What are you dOIHING?” All the air rushed from Bucky’s chest in a great squeaky torrent. He couldn’t even—god, he couldn’t even pretend to be unbothered, not with Sam tickling the shit out of him.

“Bullshit deterrent. Since you’re so damn determined not to cooperate.” Sam gave his ass a conciliatory pat, then went back to tormenting him. Laughter fell easily from him, what with Sam shaking it out.

So unbelievably stupid. One man had turned over a century of carefully-built reputations and walls. One man who’d apparently found the spot behind Bucky’s knees that made him hiccup—again, so deeply stupid.

“You’re so cute.” Sam murmured, and Bucky probably wasn’t supposed to hear that, but he did. It made his whole chest buzz. He growled.

“I am not—“

“Shut up, giggles.” Sam reached up to pinch at Bucky’s hip and he shrieked.

“S-Sam!” Bucky fisted the back of Sam’s shirt. God, this was all so much. Sam’s presence in his life shook him up like a soda can. Bucky didn’t know what to do now with the fizzing in his chest.

“Going down.” Sam flipped Bucky hard over his shoulder, sending him bouncing down onto the mattress. His laughter flew with him. He tried to launch himself at Sam, but his partner yanked his legs out from under him. Before Bucky could think, Sam had one of his legs in an armlock and was tickling the shit out of his foot.

“I’m gonna kick you! You asshole!” Bucky cackled madly.

“You better not!” Sam threw himself on top of Bucky likely to prevent it—Bucky had accidentally put him through a wall before. They rolled around for a while, all half-huffed laughs and wide smiles, until Sam got his hand under Bucky’s arm and he screamed.

Bucky rolled them and caught Sam in a searing kiss—a transparent distraction, but a functional one. Bucky tangled their legs together and pulled him close. Sam hummed into his mouth, pulling Bucky up towards him. Sam’s hands wandered, eager and grateful to touch every damaged inch of Bucky without pause. This, mercifully, had not changed. Bucky hoped, despite the voice that delicately crooned falsehoods in Russian in the back of his head, that it never would.

Bucky broke the kiss with something between a giggle and a yelp, his hand flying to his ribs. He grabbed Sam with the other. Sam grinned like an imp, pinching fingers arrested in a metal grasp. Bucky could only imagine what he looked like right now. If he was even a quarter as red-faced as he felt, he was going to fling himself into the Potomac.

“You’re so annoying! Cut it out.” Bucky tried to kill his nervous smile. It evaded him.

“Why? Because you’re a congressman?” Sam crawled on top of him.

“No, because you love me.” Bucky pressed Sam’s captive hand to his heart. Sam kissed him sweetly between his brows.

“Nah, sorry, you should’ve gone with the congressman thing.” Sam’s hands shot down to Bucky’s ribs again. He recoiled just in time to avoid a broken nose—he’d learned his lesson from last time, apparently.

“A-Alright! I’ll go to bed, just quit it!” Bucky grit his teeth through a vicious giggle fit in hopes that his dignity would return to him. Sam relented with a final squeeze to his side, then rolled off of him.

“I’m gonna kill you tomorrow.” Bucky groused, pulling Sam closer by the arm. Sam snuggled up behind him as requested. He flung the covers messily over both of them.

“With how you sleep? I’ll be at the White House before you’re even in the shower.” Sam kissed his shoulder.

“I’ll be at the White House before you’re out.” Bucky pinched Sam’s arm. Sam pinched his hip, and the resulting flail was enough to get them both in line.

“Go to sleep, old man.” Bucky could hear Sam’s smirk. He could let it lie. He could go to sleep and make sure they were rested for an incredibly important meeting tomorrow. He could choose peace.

An hour or so later, Bruce wonders if Snake is sore from getting thrashed so hard by that little pink…thing. He doesn’t understand how something so silly-looking is so effective at defeating him. He’d memorized the combos within a minute—Steph had drilled into him to do this rather than ‘button-mashing’—but nothing worked. Every time, Kirby just…ate him.

“Sorry. I think Kirby is Snake’s weakness.” Clark shrugs. Bruce huffs. He doesn’t like to lose, but he was never particularly illusioned that he’d win.

He watches Clark out of the corner of his eye. He looks so at home here, having shed his coat and jacket. Bruce reaches out to fix one of his troublesome curls, coaxing it back into pattern. Clark turns and softly kisses his hand. Bruce’s heart leaps into his throat.

He follows Clark, as he always does, over the precipice of affection.

“I happen to know a weakness of yours.” Bruce tries to make Snake hit a combo for something to do with his hands, but Kirby eats him and spits him out over the edge. Again.

“Yes, kryptonite, very funny. You couldn’t bear to kill me, Bruce. You’d miss me too much.” Clark turns to him with a cheeky smile. The game win screen reflects in his glasses. Perfect.

Bruce summons a bit of his persona, but not too much. This is real. Not a mask. He’s just…borrowing from the playboy.

“Not what I meant.” Bruce’s mouth lifts into a smirk. Clark’s brow furrows adorably as he tries to puzzle it out. Bruce crawls forward with a smirk. Clark immediately leans in to meet him, so eager and wanting.

Bruce waits until their lips nearly meet, then rests his hands in little claws across Clark’s stomach. Clark’s eyes go saucer-wide. Bruce pounces before he can think about fleeing. He’s clumsy with his fingers but it doesn’t seem to matter—Clark’s giggles bubble forth as easily as breathing.

“That—you—I t-thought Batman doesn’t cheat!” Clark twists from side to side, eventually just toppling over onto the couch. Bruce reaches for the controller, but Clark raises his arms. How kind.

“I’m not Batman.” Bruce crawls over him and races his fingers up Clark’s sides. Clark squeals and kicks his legs, his whole face pinching adorably, so of course Bruce does it again. And again. He lets his fingers dance at Clark’s top rib and he’s rewarded with giggles so violent that, for a moment, he’s worried about if he can breathe. Then he remembers that Clark has no need for air, and he continues.

“You literally are—“ Clark’s cut off by his own snort. The very quiet ‘aw’ that slips free from Bruce’s mouth is involuntary and deeply concerning. This man has a dangerous effect on him, what with his skewed glasses and boyish laugh, and it’s starting to wear at him. Change him.

Or maybe…it’s exposing something deep within him.

“There must be some mistake, Clark. I understand that the Planet has its theories, but I’m not Batman.” Bruce blinks innocently. Clark tries to growl, but it rockets back up into giggles. The change in pitch startles a chuckle out of Bruce. It’s so cute and so Clark. His whole chest grows warm with fondness.

Clark’s shirt had ridden up with his squirming, and Bruce didn’t get to be who he is without taking advantage of opportunity. He hasn’t shaved in a bit and he weaponizes that, leaving a long trail of kisses over Clark’s torso.

“Bruce!” Clark shoves at his face and cackles.

Bruce gets more intentional with his kisses, applying more pressure, but his stubble is apparently still too much. Clark curls up around him and clutches his shoulders in a semi-bruising grip. His voice cracks around his laughter. Bruce’s face cracks around his smile. Clark’s infectious. Sue him.

“You really shouldn’t let anyone exploit this weakness. It’s so easy to take you apart,” Bruce hums with a smirk, leaning forward to kiss Clark properly.

Bruce’s whole world inverts.

Instinct drives him to try and defend himself, but there’s no time. In the space of a breath, Clark has flipped them, pinning him against his own couch like they’re twentysomethings wrestling for the last beer.

“I’ll show you easy.” Clark leans down, his eyes flashing behind his skewed glasses. He’s pink and out of breath somehow, which is unfairly charming. So much of him is unfairly charming.

“We can talk about this, Clark. Can’t we?” Bruce brings his hand to the back of Clark’s neck, looking up at him through his lashes. He’s not above using his tricks.

“Oh, I think you’ve talked plenty, don’t you?”

Mistake. Mistake.

Clark’s hands find purchase under Bruce’s arms and he goes ramrod still. He doesn’t move, he hardly breathes. He doesn’t even clench his fists, no matter how much the gentle prodding makes him want to. He tries to appear as relaxed as possible. Bruce raises an unimpressed brow.

“I know you think this will make me stop—“ Clark speaks directly into Bruce’s neck and he makes a strangled sound— “But it’s fun making you break.”

Fuck, is he…telepathic?

Bruce squints up at him, trembling like a leaf. Clark grins like the devil.

Nope. Just an asshole.

Clark scrapes his teeth over Bruce’s neck and he jolts, a startled ‘ha!’ jostling free and sending more laughter tumbling out after, like an overstuffed closet spilling its contents. Once it starts, he can’t stop it.

“I happen to know a weakness of yours,” Clark says in his stupid, mocking approximation of Batman’s voice. Bruce doesn’t have the air to argue. He muffles his laughter into his bicep, desperate to hide. The silliness he can take—it’s well-worth watching Clark getting laughed out of League meetings for suggesting that Batman told a joke. The vulnerability, though, that’s…difficult.

Clark pulls his arms over his head as if they were twigs. Bruce bites his lip, but only briefly. Self-control, and all that.

“Once again, I feel like we could be doing something far more fun—“

“Oh, hush. As if you don’t like this.” Clark mercifully doesn't give him room to speak, but it doesn’t stop Bryce’s brain from spinning out. This is what Clark does. He gracelessly smacks Bruce across the face with some deep truth about himself, then moves on as if nothing happened.

Clark’s not…wrong—not fully, anyway. Bruce would much prefer Clark on top of him in a different way, but he doesn’t hate this as much as he should.

Clark tickles at the back of Bruce’s calf like some kind of supervillain and snaps him right out of his mind. Bruce kicks him straight across the jaw with a crack that’s concerning no matter whose body it came from. Clark’s glasses sail across the room, clattering to a stop somewhere out of sight.

Clark’s eyes legitimately flash with menace.

“I didn’t mean that,” Bruce says quickly, putting his hands up.

“Did you just kick me?” Clark growls, and Bruce suddenly feels as though they’ve switched places. Somewhere in all of this, he’d lost track of which way’s up.

“Clark—“ Bruce’s voice dies in his throat when Clark hitches his leg over his shoulder.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Bruce groans. He resists the urge to hide his face in favor of crossing his arms. Definitely not protectively.

“Yes, I am. I’m very purposefully teaching you some manners, because obviously Alfred’s teachings haven’t stuck.” Clark rolls up his sleeves. One of them is tricky, and Bruce reaches forward to do it himself.

“I don’t think he’d agree with you.” Bruce’s lips tick up in a smile at the comment and nothing else.

“Alfred and I are pals, so I think I carry his best interests at heart.” Clark presses a playful hand to his heart. Bruce snorts lightly.

“Sure.” Clark leans down to kiss him and cut off any further protest.

A chorus of half-screams and gagging sounds erupt from the doorway and Clark bolts upright like a hare. Bruce has the express pleasure of watching the tips of his ears scorch red.

“Oh, uhm. Heya, Dick! Jason!”

Oh. He’s never gonna live this down.

Bruce considers popping up with Clark, but it’s funnier from down here.

Clark waves over the top of the couch, his face redder than his cape. Bruce slides a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Clark waves like a tacky car dealership decoration for a long, awkward while until the disgusted muttering fades away.

“Bruce, the kind thing to do right now would be to kill me.” Clark slid his hands up over his face in despair. Bruce pats his arm.

“But, Clark—“ Bruce allows himself the tiniest smirk— “I’d miss you too much.”

Richard lowered a clawed hand to Damian’s stomach, digging his fingertips into all the correct pressure points to have Damian doubling over in a futile attempt at protection. Richard laughed above his head and twisted his hand ever-so-slightly, hitting that accursed “tickle spot” (as Richard called them) to the right of his navel. Damian swiftly lost the battle, his laughter bubbling out from between his lips in a horrendously childish display.

“There they are!” Richard crowed, doubling-down on his attack.

No matter which way Damian squirmed, Richard was easily able to follow. He bounced between Damian’s ticklish spots without rhyme or reason, drawing out surprised noises in between more of those horrendous giggles. He heard Richard cooing over his head and had the distinct urge to stab him, but he settled for jabbing an elbow hard back into Richard’s ribs. Not that it deterred him in any fashion. No, it just seemed to give him the idea to start crawling his other hand up Damian’s own ribs.

“You said– you said just a few!” Damian called out, his laughter garbling his words.

“Hm?”

“Just a few giggles!”

Richard laughed, slowing his attack. “Oh, alright, alright. I suppose that’ll have to be enough baby brother giggles to tide me over until my next visit.”

Damian scoffed. “I don’t delude myself into thinking you won’t attempt to attack me again before you leave.”

Richard grinned, wide and toothy. “Probably.”

Damian scowled – it was not a pout, no matter what his siblings said, it wasn’t his fault his cheeks were still plush with baby fat and puffed out when he frowned – and tried to get his clothing and hair back in order. “I do not understand why you insist on doing that so much.”

Richard scrubbed a hand on his head, ruining his attempts at straightening his hair. “You had fun – don’t deny it! You totally could have stabbed me if you weren’t.”

Damian said nothing. He kept scowling.

“Besides – that’s just what big brothers do! Tickle the snot out of their baby brothers.”

Forget stabbing. Damian was starting to feel the urge to bite. “I am not a baby.”

Richard tilted his head at him. “Jason’s my baby brother, too. Do you think he’s a baby?”

Damian tilted his head, considering, and it earned him another laugh from Richard. 

“Okay, maybe don’t answer that one. But – it’s just a way to have fun with your siblings, Damian. It’s alright to let loose and laugh and have a little fun here and there.” Richard’s grin turned mischievous as he raised two clawed hands. “Especially when the Tickle Monster’s involved.”

Damian would forever deny that he let Richard catch him. He just wasn’t able to gain enough speed to escape Richard’s game of chase, was all. He’d have to work on that in training later.

*     *     *

It’s just what big brother’s do! was a common insistence of Richard’s, every time Damian demanded an explanation for one of his (mortifyingly frequent) tickle attacks. There did seem to be some merit in the phrase. After all, Damian wasn’t Richard’s only target. Todd, Cain, Drake, Thomas, even Brown, and she wasn’t even related to them. Richard launched his surprise attacks against them all, tickling them to the floor and teasing them all the while. Todd did as well – pinning Drake or Brown to the training mats and tickling them until they tapped out or screamed loud enough that Father put an end to it. Cain was a bit harder to catch in the act, but he swore he saw her tickling the others at various times herself.

But the only one who targeted Damian was Richard himself (and sometimes Father – but he did not count, as he was not a “big brother” to any of them). Damian did not know why the others seemed disinclined to participate in this bonding activity with him. They seemed to engage with it plenty between each other, so why was Damian left out? Not that he wanted to be tickled, certainly not – it was humiliating. It would be remiss of him, however, to not participate in this so-called “family bonding.”

The only explanation Damian could come up with was that they were luring him into a false sense of security. They wanted his guard down, so that they could topple him with little resistance. Well, Damian wouldn’t let them get away with that. No – Damian would be ready, whenever they decided to strike. He would be hypervigilant, ready for their attack at any moment. He wouldn’t rest. He wouldn’t let his guard down. Todd and Drake would never make a fool out of him.

Except – well, the thing was, hypervigilance became tiring after a while. He grew weary of being on edge when around his brothers. With Richard he’d learned to know what to expect. Any playful moment – an unserious argument, a competition, a spar, anything – Richard had the possibility of taking advantage of. He didn’t know Todd and Drake’s habits surrounding this event, he didn’t know what to expect from them or when to expect it. As the days went on, the anticipation wreaked havoc on his nerves. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Todd and Drake were having a pre-patrol spar in the Cave. Damian observed as he completed his own warm-ups on the mats nearby. He swore he could feel their eyes flickering in his direction and it took all of his hard-learned self-control to not fidget under their watch. Finally, after toying with him for nearly five minutes, Todd pinned Drake under his weight until he tapped out.

“Come on Baby Bat, you want a match?”

Damian’s guard immediately went up. The training mats – this is where many tickle attacks had taken place, from any number of his family members. Even Father was known to participate, if he was in a particularly playful mood.

“I suppose.”

Drake shifted himself to the sidelines as Damian took his place. He could feel Drake’s eyes burning through his back.

“Damian, are you injured?”

A false injury check – he’d seen Todd and Richard (and even, on rare occasion, Father) use that ploy on Drake more than enough times. With ribs as sensitive as that, it made him an easy target. Was that method now to be used on Damian?

“No,” Damian said firmly. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re just all,” Drake waved his hand in the air, gesturing to Damian’s form, “stiff.”

Todd’s stance shifted as he eyed Damian up and down. “The Bird’s right – you sure you’re not injured, kid?”

“I am in perfect physical condition. Are we going to spar or not?”

Todd raised his hands in surrender, backing into place across the mats. “Alright, alright. Timmers, you referee.”

Not the injury check, then. The spar was still in question. This may finally be the moment. Damian could begin to learn their patterns and perhaps finally relax in their presence again. He hated being so tense any time they visited.

Drake called for the match to start and Todd immediately lunged for him. Damian was put on the defensive, dodging and weaving between his attacks. He managed a few good hits, but despite his bulk, Todd was fast, and Damian always had to back off quickly. He knew he couldn’t take Todd head-on, the man was twice his height and three times his weight, so he needed a strategy. Without his belt or any of his gadgets, it would be a difficult victory.

Unfortunately, Drake had been correct – Damian was stiff. Not from injury, but hypervigilance. And it certainly had a poor effect on his focus in a spar. Every lunge, jab, swat, Damian was convinced it would connect with a ticklish area and Todd would proceed to pin him to the mats until he was red-faced and cackling. 

It only took one failed swerve for Todd to tackle him down to the mats and pin him. Damian held his breath, watching Todd with wide eyes. After a moment to make sure Damian wasn’t going to try and break the hold, he was released and Todd maneuvered off him, wiping the sweat from his brow. The dam burst.

“That’s it?” Damian blurted out, unable to stop himself.

Todd and Drake both turned to him, frowns and furrowed brows in place.

“Damian?” Drake said.

“I grow tired of these games! Just do it, already!”

For the second time that evening, Todd raised his hands in surrender. Drake’s confused expression melted into concern. The jittery feeling in Damian’s stomach did not abate.

“Do… what, exactly, Dami?” Jason spoke to him like he was a child – the same voice he used on the young street rats of Crime Alley to try and build trust and rapport.

“Do not patronize me, Todd, I am no fool. Grayson made the rules of this game quite clear to me. Do you find me unworthy in some way? Too weak for such things? What is it?”

“Whoa – Damian, hold on,” Drake sat down on the mat, like he was trying to make himself smaller, and scooted closer. “We don’t even know what you’re talking about. Explain it to us first.”

“I told you not to–”

Todd cut him off. “We’re not patronizing you, Damian. Neither of us has any clue what the hell you’re talking about.”

Damian thinned his lips, shifting uncomfortably where he sat on the mat. He shoved his hands under his thighs so he wouldn’t be tempted to fidget with them. “Richard – he said older brothers tickle younger brothers. It’s ‘just what they do.’”

Drake let out an incredulous laugh, Todd pressed his lips together as if he was trying to avoid doing the same. Damian felt himself flush, starting in his neck and travelling all the way up to his forehead.

“Yeah,” Todd said, his voice trembling with withheld laughter. “I remember he used that line on me plenty, when I was as short as you.”

“Think he’s used it on all of us,” Drake said, still laughing. “Still uses it now, honestly.”

Todd plopped himself back down on the mat next to Damian. “It’s not a rule, kid – Dick’s just teasing you. Giving himself an excuse for why he tickles the snot out of you three times a day when he visits.”

Damian’s shoulders dropped. “Oh.” His face grew even warmer, travelling up his ears now.

Drake chuckled again, leaning forward with a sudden mischievous tilt to his mouth. “But, since you asked…”

Todd’s smirk took on the same quality. He wrapped an arm around Damian’s shoulders and Damian’s breath caught in his throat. He was torn – did he run? Did he stay and face the torment he asked for? The jittery feeling in his stomach grew stronger, almost ticklish in and of itself. He was paralyzed with indecision, but found himself fighting off a grin anyway.

Drake crawled closer. Todd’s clawed hand inched towards his neck. Damian shrank in on himself, making no move to flee and preserve his dignity.

“Boys!” Father called. “Suit up, let’s go!”

Drake and Todd snapped to attention, grumbling under their breaths. Damian felt like he was still trying to catch his own. When Drake reached out to squeeze his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He let out an unbecoming squeak when Todd’s hand jumped away from his neck to scrub at his hair.

“This isn’t over,” Todd said, heaving himself to his feet.

“We are so talking about this later.”

Damian was, as Todd would say, fucked.

*     *     *

They didn’t even have the decency to put him out of his misery immediately following patrol. Todd returned to his own apartment afterwards to lick his wounds, and since Father had incurred an injury of his own, Drake took straight to the Batcomputer to log the night’s events and plan their next moves. Damian was sent upstairs alone, ate the post-patrol snack laid out by Alfred alone, and went to bed alone.

They continued to not have the decency the next day, or the next, or anything for near a week. Oh certainly, when they would run into Damian on patrol they would give him those infuriatingly teasing smiles, perhaps wiggle some fingers in his general direction or give a quick verbal tease, but even they knew better than to start such nonsense on patrol. Still, it infuriated him to no end, all this buildup and no follow-through.

Damian had half a mind to stab them, the next time he saw one of them. No one could say they didn’t deserve it.

That was, in fact, what wound up nearly happening the next time Drake stopped by the Manor for an extended period of time. Damian had been in his bedroom, perfecting a sketch of Titus as he sat at his desk. He had taken up listening to music as he worked, finding that it helped calm his mind and improve his focus, and that day he’d chosen to use earbuds to properly experience the full layers and mixing of all the sounds.

As such, he didn’t hear the knock on his door, nor did he hear Drake enter. He only became aware of Drake’s presence when a calloused hand ruffled his hair, startling him out of his hyperfocus and nearly making him ruin his sketch. Without thinking, Damian snatched a spare blade off his desk and made to stab his attacker. A hand grabbed his wrist, squeezing the pressure points just right to force him to drop the dagger.

“Damian!” 

Damian finally turned to face his intruder, then took a deep breath and tugged the earbuds out of his ears. “Perhaps you should learn not to sneak up on people.”

Drake scowled. “I didn’t even sneak! I knocked and everything!”

Damian scowled back, resenting the way his cheeks puffed up a little with the expression. It made him look far too childish.

“You know what,” Drake continued, tugging Damian out of his chair and over toward the bed, “I’m gonna make this even worse because of that.”

Damian’s face dropped in shock. “Wait, Drake–”

Drake gave him an absolutely devious smile. “Don’t stress, Dami. Just fulfilling my big brother duties.”

Damian resolutely did not yelp when Drake scooped him up underneath the arms and tossed him onto the bed, no matter what Drake claimed later. Damian scrambled against the sheets, trying to crawl off the bed, but Drake launched himself as well. The bed bounced under his sudden weight, knocking Damian off-balance just enough for Drake to snatch his ankle, tugging it to force him onto his back and quickly crowding into Damian’s space.

“Drake, no!” Damian’s voice had gone shrieky and shrill, embarrassingly childish and out of his control.

Drake, of course, laughed at him. Damian sealed his own lips shut to prevent any other incriminating sounds. Just in time, too, as Drake started squeezing at his sides. Damian made a protesting noise in his throat, but swallowed down any other sounds. 

“You know,” Drake said conversationally, “you’d think after making such a big deal about this, you’d be less stubborn about it.”

Damian’s ears grew hot, but he knew what Drake was doing. He kept his lips stubbornly sealed.

“I mean, you outright asked for it – were practically begging for it, actually.”

The heat in Damian’s ears spread to his cheeks. “I did no such thing!”

Curse him.

Drake grinned, digging into Damian’s stomach the moment he began his protest. Damian snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late. Strained chuckles escaped through his sealed lips as he squirmed away from Drake’s hands. He fumbled for Drake’s hands trying to push them away, but Drake was unfortunately successful at tossing his hands off.

“I’ve seen Dick tickle you, you know.”

Damian tried to glare at him. He didn’t imagine he was very successful, what with the wavering smile on his lips. In fact, based on the way Drake paused his one-sided conversation and pressed his lips together in a tight smile, he was likely resisting the urge to coo at him like Richard often did. His face grew warmer.

“I know generally where to target, you can’t hide the tickle spots from me. Just takes a little effort to find just the right place.”

As if he timed it, Drake’s wildly skittering fingers passed over that accursed spot to the right of his navel. Damian squealed and tried to toss himself off the bed. Drake laughed, bright and open, and lunged after him, pulling Damian back in with an arm around his waist. Damian kept his face turned away from Drake, trying to hide just how bright his smile was. Drake would almost certainly know it wasn’t just from the tickling – he was infuriatingly insightful like that.

“Get back here!”

“No!”

Drake’s fingers found that spot again and Damian doubled over in giggles. He shoved fruitlessly at Drake’s arms, trying to free himself, or at least stop the ticklish feeling.

“What’s wrong, Dami? Ticklish tummy?”

Damian growled through his giggles. “I’ll kill you!”

Drake laughed again. “That’s fair.”

Thankfully, Drake moved away from that spot. Unfortunately, his next target was Damian’s neck. He scratched at the skin with short, blunt nails, occasionally skittering them behind Damian’s ears. Damian was lost to mortifying squeaks and snorts, shaking his head to try and throw Drake off.

“See, I get why Dick does this so much, now–”

“Shut up!”

“– you’re actually pretty adorable like this. Still got those murder-eyes, but they’re almost cute when you’re being tickled silly.”

Damian twisted around and flopped back onto his back, throwing himself away from Drake’s tickling fingers. Catching sight of Drake’s face again, he could see the bright, teasing grin splitting across his face. Based on the way Drake’s eyes brightened, he’d caught Damian’s smile as well and read into it much further than Damian wanted.

“Alright, I’ll quit with all the teasing. Let’s get on with the main event.”

Teasing? Main event? Damian’s heart thudded in his chest, that jittery, almost-ticklish feeling in his stomach taking over again. That hadn’t even been part of Drake’s true attack? Drake had just been toying with him?

“Wait, Drake–”

Damian held out a hand, as if that would do anything to hold Drake off once he lunged. Drake snatched his wrist and pinned it to the bed.

“Why? I’m just doing what you asked.” His smile turned evil and mischievous again. “Gotta prove that you’re not weak or unworthy, after all.”

“No–!”

Damian burst into loud, childish laughter as Drake attacked his exposed underarm, scratching and scritching away against the fabric of his t-shirt. Damian tugged at his arm, but unfortunately the tickling and laughter had weakened him, leaving him firmly trapped. Instead, Damian tried to pry at Drake’s fingers with his free hand, but he couldn’t quite get the coordination he needed.

Damian squealed as the tickling dipped below his underarm, fingers wiggling along the length of his ribs and delivering nibbling pinches between them. He kicked out at Drake, aiming for his midsection to push him off, but Drake dodged his uncoordinated attempts easily.

“Man, Dames, you’re so right – I should’ve been doing this the whole time.”

“Stoppit!”

“I really dropped the ball with my older brother duties before, but you have my word that I’m gonna rectify that.”

“Cut it out!”

Damian finally got a good amount of momentum and corrected his arm, landing a foot directly in Drake’s abdomen. Drake grunted, releasing Damian’s wrist and ceasing his tickling as he was pushed back. He let out a little “oof” as the air was forced out of him.

“Did you just kick me?”

Damian blinked at him. “Yes.”

Drake narrowed his eyes. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Damian didn’t have a chance to protest or even gasp before Drake had thrown himself over his calves, pinning them to the bed with his body weight. The only sound that left Damian for a while after that was hysterical, cackling laughter and wordless almost-screams as Drake attacked his knees with ruthless precision.

“Are you sorry, yet? Apologize, you brat!”

Even if he wanted to, Damian wasn’t sure he could. The only thing he could think about was how badly it tickled. Richard’s tickling was ruthless and impossible to beat, certainly, but Drake’s methods were their own special form of torture. Damian felt as though he were being studied as Drake cycled through different techniques.

He would pinch at the pressure points just above Damian’s knee, making Damian’s legs jump as he choked out yelps between his laughter. He clawed at Damian’s kneecaps, driving Damian into a full-bodied squirm as he laughed helplessly into a pillow he tugged over his face. After tugging said pillow away, he did an egg-cracking motion over Damian’s knees, and Damian squealed until his voice went out. When he traced designs on the backs of Damian’s knees, Damian hiccuped with frantic, high-pitched giggles, the likes of which he had never made before. 

Damian thought he might go insane.

“Drake! Timothy! No more!”

Drake’s hands faltered, but only for half a moment. Then the tickling started up again with a vengeance, combining all the most ticklish techniques he had found to make tears of mirth spring to Damian’s eyes.

“What was that, Dami? Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Oh yeah? For what?”

“Kicking you!”

Drake released him, rolling off his legs to instead recline next to Damian. Damian did not move, lying boneless on his bed as he caught his breath and tried to get his residual giggling under control. He swore he could still feel Drake’s fingers on his skin, tickling away at his sanity.

“They’ll never find your body.”

Drake snorted. “You think that was bad? Just wait until Jason comes after you.”

The jittery feeling in Damian’s stomach came back with a vengeance. He smacked Drake in the face with a pillow for the crime.

*     *     *

Todd’s attack was almost predictable, after all the games of anticipation he had played. Damian had known Todd was in the Manor – his motorcycle was in the garage upon his and Thomas’s arrival home from school with Alfred – and he knew Drake’s warning would not have been without meaning. After all, he’d seen Todd take Drake to pieces many times in the past. Drake would know well the brutality he was capable of.

They entered the Manor through the side entrance, the door closest to the kitchen, and were accosted almost immediately by Todd. An apron hung around his neck, dusted in flour and some sticky-looking batter, which he began untying once he caught sight of them.

“Hey, Alfie,” he said, passing the apron off when Alfred reached out an open palm. “Cookies are in the oven, I’ve got a meeting.”

Before Damian could think of a snappish retort, Todd was yanking the backpack and school blazer from his shoulders and tossing them to Thomas.

“Hey!” He yelled.

Thomas stood there, slightly dumbfounded. “I didn’t realize I was a coat rack.”

“You are today, sunshine. I’ve got business to attend to.”

Damian yelped as his feet left the floor, and grunted as his stomach met Todd’s shoulder. He started squirming almost immediately, trying to break Todd’s grip.

“Unhand me, you imbecile!”

“Do try to keep it down, Master Jason.” Alfred seemed uninterested in the happenings of the mudroom as he entered the kitchen, taking in the state of it. “Master Bruce acquired a concussion last night and I’ve only just finally convinced him to get some rest.”

Todd scoffed, bouncing Damian’s writhing body on his shoulder a couple times. “Come on, Alf – you know those bedrooms are basically soundproof.”

Alfred leveled them both with a look, so flat that Damian even stopped squirming for a moment. “Do not disturb your father.”

Todd huffed, moving toward the door leading to the rest of the Manor. “Fine, we’ll keep it first-floor only.”

“Thank you, Master Jason.”

“Uh – should we not be, like, concerned?”

Damian scowled at Thomas. “Are you going to just stand there? Help me!”

Thomas hesitated. Todd shot him a look over his free shoulder. “You intervene, you get your own big brother treatment. Where was it that got you shrieking, last time? Your feet? Or maybe it was your armpits? Eh, my arms are pretty long. I’m sure I could get both at the same time.”

Thomas cleared his throat and took a step away from them. “No, yeah – I’m good. I’ve got, like, homework and shit.”

Todd hummed. “Better get to it.”

“Yup.”

Thomas, the coward, fled via the kitchen.

“Thomas, you get back here and help me! Thomas! Duke!”

Todd snorted and made his way through the door of the mudroom, stalking through the halls as Damian fruitlessly kicked his legs and pounded on Todd’s back. “Resorting to first names, kid? Damn, you must be ticklish.”

Damian growled and twisted his hips in Todd’s grip, aiming to knee him in the face. Todd grabbed his ankle before he could, holding it fast as the rest of him continued to wriggle.

“Damn – ex-Boy Wonder was right, you’re a real squirmer. Dick ever call you a wiggly worm?”

Damian let out an enraged shout, punching at Todd’s back even harder. Richard had, in fact, called him a wriggly, wiggly worm before. Damian had bit him in response.

“Let me down, you brute! You bumbling beast! You–”

Damian yelped as he was unceremoniously dumped onto a plush couch. He scrambled upright, barely getting a glance of his surroundings – the library, he should’ve known – before Todd was upon him, properly wrestling him down against the cushions. A dangerous smile crossed his face.

“See, Dickie? He would’ve used that little comment to play some silly tickle monster game with you, really play into the whole ‘beast’ thing.” He effortlessly caught Damian’s wrist in his hand before Damian could punch him in the midsection. “Me? I’m just gonna make you regret it.”

“Todd, wait–!”

Todd cocked his head to the side. “Why wait any longer? Thought you would’ve had enough of that, by now.” His grin widened. “Timmers said you were practically crawling out of your skin. Don’t think I didn’t notice too, on patrols.”

Damian gasped as his other wrist was captured, feeling the heat flood his face at Todd’s words. His heart thumped in his chest and he stared up at Todd’s face helplessly.

Todd’s grin twisted into a diabolical smirk. “Giving up already, baby assassin?”

Damian could just accept his fate. He could give in, let his nervous system have a rest from the hypervigilance, allow Todd to tickle all of that out of him… But when had Damian ever endeavored to make things easy for his brothers.

Damian wiggled, half-trapped under Todd’s bulk as he leaned over him, and managed to squeeze his legs underneath Todd’s arm and up into his own chest. Then, he shot them out towards Todd’s chest, putting all the power behind the kick that he could manage. Todd laughed, deep and low, and darted backwards. It was almost like he had been anticipating the attack.

He snatched up Damian’s legs, bringing them to a tight hold against his chest with one arm as he stood from the sofa. Damian growled as his world titled upside-down, trying to kick out of Todd’s grasp and finding it near unmoveable. Only his head and shoulders still rested against the cushions, the rest of his body dangling in the air from the anchor point of his calves.

“Todd!”

Todd chuckled. “You know – maybe you should be eating more. You feel way too light for a baby vigilante.”

Damian threw a punch at Todd’s thigh, though he didn’t even flinch. “I am in peak physical condition!”

Instead of answering, Todd latched his free hand onto one of Damian’s knees, sending him into immediately hysterical laughter. Being held in the air like this, his legs so securely pinned, Damian had nowhere to squirm. All he could do was twist his body back and forth and bounce his knees – though as he quickly lost strength due to his laughter, he lost the ability to do even that effectively, as bouncing his knees meant raising his whole body along with them. After what felt like an eternity (but likely wasn’t more than a minute), Todd stopped and let him breathe. 

“See, I could stay there all afternoon – make you beg and cry. I think it would end too quickly if we did that, though.”

Damian groaned and uselessly tried to kick out again. It was no use, Todd’s grip was inescapable.

“I mean, I made you wait more than a week. It would be pretty shitty of me to tickle you out so fast, huh?”

Damian bared his teeth. “I will make you regret ever being born.”

Todd mimicked his expression, though his version was far more gleeful. “Wanna bet?”

Damian inhaled, opening his mouth to speak, and all the air immediately left him in a giggly yelp as Todd began clawing at his stomach – right in that spot next to his navel. In the privacy of his own mind, Damian let out a slew of curses. Did everyone know about that accursed “giggle spot?” He blamed Richard’s repeated exploitation of it.

“See, I do my research, kiddo. I know all the best places to tickle already – and we might even find more along the way. And I’m not going easy on you like Timerbly did.”

Damian shot a wide-eyed look up at Todd, trying to pry his fingers off his stomach. Todd smirked.

“Good thing you’re already having fun, then, right?”

“Screw you,” Damian hissed through his giggling.

“How viscous,” Todd said, voice flat. “Like a truly fearsome kitten, really.”

He switched to clawing his hand up and down Damian’s ribcage, jumping back and forth between his left and right. Damian screeched, trying to leverage his shoulders against the cushions to twist away from Todd’s hand. Todd grumbled something in response and hitched Damian up even higher, lifting him away from the cushions, and stepped away from the couch. Damian dangled freely now, hanging uselessly in the air. Every squirm sent him swinging, making it even harder to control his movements despite the fact that Todd was able to follow his momentum easily.

Easily enough for his hand to crawl all the way up into Damian’s underarm, massaging deep into the muscle.

“No!” Damian cried out before losing himself to bubbly, boyish laughter and humiliating snorts.

Todd chuckled along. “No? No, what? Is something wrong down there, little demon? Something bugging you?”

Damian barely caught the sound of jingling through his own laughter, tilting his head up (or was it down, considering his flipped position?) to see Titus trotting into the room at the sound of his torment. Damian reached an arm out for him – the one not currently glued to his side from ticklish shock – which quickly turned out to be a mistake, as Todd switched to tickling that underarm instead. His arm snapped back to his side, but the brief movement had still caught Titus’s attention and he approached.

“Titus, help me!”

Todd laughed above him. “What’s the dog gonna do, you little snot? Take me down? Doubt it.”

Damian made his voice as commanding as he could despite the laughter. “Titus, attack! Bite him!”

Unfortunately, childish guffaws did not a commanding voice make. Titus tilted his head to the side at the unintelligible words before lowering himself down into a bow. Damian gasped as he realized what was about to happen, bringing his free arm up for protection, but it was too late.

Damian had learned early on that Titus loved the sound of laughter. He seemed to recognize what it meant – a happy, joyful human – and it always put him in a playful mood. Damian’s laughter in particular seemed to excite him more than most, likely due to the close bond they shared.

Low in his bow, Titus barked twice, before bouncing back up and prancing a bit on his front paws. Then, he shoved his cold noise right into the crook of Damian’s neck, snuffling away against the skin.

Damian squealed, then shrieked, then flapped his hands uselessly at the overwhelming ticklish feelings flooding through his body. Todd laughed again, thankfully pulling his own hand back, but doing nothing to deter Titus. Damian waved his hands around in the air, disoriented from hanging upside down and not certain how to even push Titus away with his lack of leverage. Titus, spurred on by Damian’s happy noises, continued to nuzzle away in his neck and at his ears.

“Titus, no! Down!” Damian shrieked again at a particularly breathy snuffle to his ear, trying to swing his body away from Titus unsuccessfully. “Todd! Todd!”

“What?” Todd’s voice was heavy with his own laughter, low and fond in a rare way that made Damian feel even more bashful. “I’m not even doing anything, Dames. That’s all Titus.”

“He’s– it’s– No!” Damian cut himself off with another squeal.

“Aw, what? Does it tickle? See, look, you’re so ticklish that even Titus knows what to do. Didn’t realize your neck was that bad, though. Reminds me of the one time I was able to get Bruce.”

Damian put his hands on either side of Titus’s head, trying to push him away. The touch only excited Titus even more, his licking and sniffing getting even quicker.

“Like father like son, I guess.”

Damian slapped at Todd’s thigh. Normally when Titus started this game, Damian would have been able to redirect him by now. The longer Titus stayed in his neck, the more hyper-sensitive he seemed to get. He knew it wasn’t his most ticklish spot, that curse lay firmly in his knees, but he didn’t think he’d ever been tickled so unbearably in this spot before. Todd seemed to get the message, shooing Titus off towards the dog toys in the dog bed in the corner of the library.

“Alright, go to bed, boy. Don’t want you tiring him out and stealing all my fun.”

Titus huffed, but trotted obediently off towards his bed, his tail wagging wildly at Damian’s continued giggles.

“How do you get anything done when you’re this ticklish, huh? I bet your clothes even tickle.”

“They do not,” Damian said, though the vehemence of his protest was lessened by how breathless and giggly he still was. The slight wooziness from the blood rushing to his head made the laughter even harder to stop. “I’m not that ticklish!”

“Really, you’re not?”

“No!”

“Hm. Are you sure? Why don’t you tell me how much this tickles.”

Todd’s hand shot towards his side, and Damian shrieked and swung his body the opposite way. All that did was get him swaying like a pendulum, practically swinging his body into Todd’s wiggling fingers and away again. Todd hummed out another chuckle, rocking to add a little more sway to Damian’s body to keep him rocking into and away from his tickling hand. It was a horrible tease that had Damian whimpering and giggling in equal measure, trying to shove at Todd’s hand every time he grew close.

“You’re doing it to yourself at this point, kid.”

“Stop talking!”

“Mm, nah. It’s pretty funny when you go all red. Especially since you’re the most uptight preteen I’ve ever fucking met.”

“I’ll kill you!”

“Been there, done that. Get some original material.”

Damian tried to growl, but the sound was interrupted as Todd targeted his giggle spot again as the pendulum swinging slowed. Damian clutched at his wrist, squeezing his eyes shut. After Titus’s attack seeming to set his nervous system alight, everything seemed to tickle even worse than before.

“Jason! Cut it out!”

Todd whistled, low and impressed. “I get a first name shoutout? Damn, maybe it’s time for the grand finale before your brain turns to mush.”

Damian’s eyes snapped wide open. His hands started flailing to try and catch Todd’s before he could up his attack. It was a pitiful attempt, and Todd’s hands connected with the muscle above his knee in moments, massaging away at the pressure points.

Damian practically screamed, and he hoped beyond hope that they were far enough from the stairs to the family wing to avoid waking Father. No doubt he would join in, seeing Damian red-faced and cackling. He was as bad as Richard when it came to his childishly named “tickle monster” tendencies, and if he decided to join in, Damian doubted he would see mercy for a long while yet.

And as much fun as Damian refused to admit he was having, adding in another set of tickling hands when he was already so consumed by the ticklish feelings with just one of Todd’s? He might truly die from it.

Todd jumped around, exploring around his knees as Damian cackled and snivelled and screamed in laughter. Clawing at his kneecaps, skittering at the thin skin behind his knees, jumping down to his claves or up to his thighs when Damian started to run out of air to give him some semblance of a break. He wasn’t methodical like Drake, but he was still precise. Every minute weak point was found and targeted with single-minded focus, until Damian thought he was going to die from tickles from just one hand.

Then, just when Damian was beginning to think he couldn’t take anymore, just when he was debating swallowing his pride and begin begging, Todd stopped. Damian gasped in a deep breath and it left him in a whoosh as he was dropped unceremoniously back onto the couch. His head swam from how long he’d been upside down and Damian allowed himself the luxury of going boneless, sinking into the plush cushions. He could see why Todd spent so much time in the library when he came by the Manor – this was exceedingly comfortable. He could fall asleep right there.

“Still with us, Baby Bat?”

Damian debated kicking Todd as he plopped on the couch next to him, but decided that it was ultimately too much effort to move that much. 

“Your days are numbered,” he mumbled instead.

Todd let out a humming chuckle deep in his throat, reaching over to ruffle Damian’s hair. If Damian leaned into the touch, it was entirely because his neck was too tired to support his head. It was absolutely not because he enjoyed the affectionate touch.

“Me ‘n Alfie’s cookies are probably cooled enough to eat, by now. Want one?”

This time, Damian did kick at Todd, just lightly against his hip. “I deserve at least three.”

Todd ruffled his hair even more. It was probably sticking up in every direction, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Yeah, probably. You got it, kid. Three cookies and a glass of water coming right up. If your limbs start working again, pick a book out. I’ll read you something.”

If Damian wound up cuddled up to Todd’s side under a fluffy blanket, munching on cookies as Todd read to him aloud, no one needed to know. Especially not the fact that he dozed off only a few minutes after finishing his snack, Todd’s deep rumble soothing him into slumber before he even realized what was happening.

*     *     *

“Heard you had quite the eventful couple weeks,” Richard said as he practically bounded into the training area.

Damian refused to look at him. “We will not speak of it.

Richard slipped behind the punching bag Damian was attacking, forcing his cheery grin into Damian’s sight. “Aww, Dami – it’s okay! You wanted some more big brother tickles. No one will blame you for that!”

Damian delivered a particularly vicious punch to the bag, but Richard was unphased, only smiling brighter.

“I think Jay and Timmy had fun, too. Better look out though, kiddo – now that they know you’re tickle-able, you won’t be escaping them anytime soon.”

Damian’s ears grew hot. “I know,” he grumbled. “They’ve already proved as such.”

Now that whatever unspoken wall protecting Damian had come down, it seemed as though he couldn’t go more than two days without Drake or Todd deciding he deserved another round. Damian didn’t think he’d laughed this much even when Richard was in town, tickle-attacking him at least twice a day. He would likely never have a day's peace again.

Richard smirked, releasing the bag and leaning down so they were closer to eye-level. “Something tells me you don’t mind as much as you pretend to.”

Damian bared his teeth, aiming his next punch for Richard’s nose, overly telegraphing the movement. Richard laughed, snatching the wrist up and using it to spin Damian around, pulling him into a backwards hug to dig his fingers into Damian’s sides and ribs. He immediately burst into bubbly laughter.

“That’s okay, though, kiddo. Those are just the privileges of being a little brother.”

Someday, Damian vowed, he would be bigger and stronger than all of them. He would exact his revenge ruthlessly and without mercy, and as frequently as possible. Someday, they would fear his “tickle monster” prowess.

Ok when Damian is getting Got by Dick and he shouts about how Dick promised he only was gonna get a few giggles out of Damian - *narrator voice* that's when Rosie knew.... she was fucked.

DAMIAN TOTALLY POUTS AND WE LOVE THAT ABOUT HIM

I love the idea that Damian likes being tickled by Dick (and Tim and Jason and Bruce) but spends the entire time convincing himself and anyone around him that he doesn't let it happen

Damian getting upset that nobody but Dick and his dad tickle him is PRECIOUS and I love it poor Dami don't worry

And then immediately being like well obviously they are just waiting for the perfect chance to strike is PEAK Damian

THE SCENE ON THE MATS WITH TIM AND JASON AND DAMIAN Damian is on a completely different CHAPTER of the book and Tim and Jason are like what is this kid on

"Not an injury check then. The spar was still in question." DAMIAN YOU POOR PARANOID CHILD <3

Jason taking the time to explain that "It's not a rule, kid - Dick's just teasing you." I LOVE that he takes Damian seriously and kindly explains it to Dami AND THEN TIM IMMEDIATELY GOING "But since you asked....." ASDHFJGLDLSJNCKS

THE CLIFFHANGER OMG NO THE ANTICIPATION IS KILLING MEEEEEEEEE THAT"S SO RUDE

Poor Dami having to stew and wait an entire WEEK the lee mood is SO REAL

"I mean, you outright ASKED for it - were practically begging for it, actually." HOLY SHIT SO MEAN

Damian not being able to help defending himself from the teasing is SO ON BRAND

"Damian kept his face turned away from Drake, trying to hide how bright his smile was. Drake would almost certainly know it wasn't JUST from the tickling - he was infuriatingly insightful like that." AHHHHHHHHH SO CUTE SO CUTE!!! Also I love how everything that could possibly be construed as a compliment towards his older brothers is couched in language that could make it an insult to the untrained eye lol

"That hadn't even been part of Drake's true attack? Drake had just been TOYING with him?" Oh Dami you're so screwed my guy :D

Jesus Christ, the tickle scenes in this fic are positively LETHAL oh my god I've got butterflies and chills at the same time

God Damian is just the cutest. "The jittery feeling in Damian's stomach came back with a vengeance. He smacked Drake in the face with a pillow for the crime." GODDAMMIT ITS ADORABLE!!

LMAO JAson immediately going after Damian when he gets home from school.

ALFRED WE LOVE YOU

Jason's teasing/threatening Duke was ASDFGHJKKL "Where was it that got you shrieking last time? Your feet? Or maybe it was your armpits? Eh, my arms are pretty long. I'm sure I could get both at the same time." ILLEGAL SIR. YOU HAVE COMMITTED A CRIME.

"Dick ever call you a wiggly worm?" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I AM DECEASED also Damian biting Dick for that is top tier LMAO

"Me? I'm just gonna make you regret it." HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHITTTTTT

OMG THAT POSITION SHOULD BE ILLEGAL Jason holding Damian's legs and standing while Dami's upper back and head rests on the couch - DOWNRIGHT CRIMINAL

"In the privacy of his own mind, Damian let out a slew of curses. Did EVERYONE know about that accursed 'giggle spot'? He blamed Richard's repeated exploitation of it." LMAOOOO poor Damian

DAMIAN FULLY DANGLING UPSIDE DOWN IS SO RUDE JASON OMG

WAIT TITUS

TITUS ALERT

Titus is the best boy but poor Dami getting tickled by the DOG TOO LMAOOOOO

Titus loving the sound of laughter is PRECIOUS WHAT A GOOD DOG!!!!!!!!!! HE JUST WANTS TO PLAYYYYYYYY

"Reminds me of the one time I was able to get Bruce." YESSSSS LER JASON FOR THE WIN although I'm sure Bruce's revenge was swift and ruthless :D

THE PENDULUM GAME AHHHHHHH

AWWWW Damian worrying that Bruce is going to hear and join in is ADORABLEEEEE

"And as much fun as Damian refused to admit he was having," AHHHH you write Damian so fucking well

"Your days are numbered," he mumbled instead.' LOLLLLL

"If Damian leaned into the touch, it was entirely because his neck was too tired to support his head." Valid but also you're fooling no one, Damian.

JASON TAKING CARE OF DAMIAN AND BRINGING HIM COOKIES AND WATER AND READING TO HIM MY HEART IS EXPLODING!!!!

AWWWW DICK COMING BACK AT THE END!!! He knows Damian so well it's so cute. I love how you write them!!!!

Starting with tickle fics!!!

Other authors i know of that have some batfam fics include:

@13phantom13angel13

@tickletastic

@ficsstuff

@the-hawk-anon who we saw the tickle fic debut of in my askbox and now has a blog!

@kourtniwritesagain should have at least one if i remember correctly

@rosiesramblings also has one, and she and i chat and i know she's hoping to write some more batfam eventually! (which i am so patiently frothing at the mouth for skdjsfhh)

and i know we're talking fics, but @fluffyweeby has some absolutely ADORABLE batfam tickle art

i know there has to be some i'm forgetting, but basically, for stuff on tumblr, just go through my batfam tickling tag and you'll find all the good stuff lol (and if there's any that anyone else knows of that i dont PLEASE let me know i am always wanting more fic sdjfhdf)

as for general DC tickling but not necessarily batfam, along with some of the batfam ppl above posting that as well, i know @fickle-tiction, @cantwritethetword, @tickle-bugs have some. i think @amazingmsme has some My Adventures With Superman specific fics (which are sitting in my drafts to read once i finally watch it lol), and I think @thebest-medicine does as well, along with some Teen Titans fics? which i also havent read yet until i watch the teen titans cartoon lol. i think @fanficsandfluff has some DCEU stuff on their masterpost that ive shoved into my drafts recently to read and reblog when i have time lol

to find all DC stuff on my blog (including batfam stuff) you can go into my DC tickling tag in case there's people i've missed, and i also try to tag as well by groupings (batfam, justice league, teen titans, young justice, etc.) for organizational purposes if you want to find something specific

Now, for a few ao3-specific tickle fics i've found!!!

It Turns Out, You Can't Be Serious Forever by Alicelikesgravity

I haven't watched the live action Titan's show yet (i have heard SUCH mixed opinions about it though sdkjfhdf), but this is based in that universe, and is a platonic short n sweet tickle fic between Jason and Beast Boy

(This work is restricted to archive users only, you will have to be logged in)

Roy's Little Experiment by Kunoichirin

this is a short n sweet JayRoy fic, absolutely heart-melting, switch!both. i go and reread it all the time because its just so adorably tooth-rotting

Safe Space. by dangerouscoffeetheorist

back tickles my beloved 😭 8K of Jason character exploration (and Jason and Bruce relationship exploration) through back tickles, the fic that inspired in my brain for Jason to have the most ticklish back of any of the batboys (and inspired the back-tickles series i am soooo slowly working on that you all will hopefully see someday lol). I come back and reread this CONSTANTLY bro dskjfh. i dont remember if i've read the rest of the series it belongs to yet, but i'm sure the rest of it is great too! (but the rest of the series is not tickle fics fyi!)

___________________________________

Moving on to non-tfics!

for this section, even if the author has a tumblr that i know of, i will NOT be tagging them because idk this is my little tickle fic corner i dont want them all looking at me im sorry dsjfkhf if they find me on their own and enjoy my work then good for them but im not going to Draw Them Here because sometimes ppl think this fixation is weird/it makes them uncomfy lol

BUT, since you mentioned envy, i def am ready to rec some normie fics for you as well! because i read so much fic lol like, Bruh, i need to do more things with my time than read all this fic lol

some of these may be in-progress WIPs that i dug out of the bookmarks of my normie ao3 account, i hope that is fine! as many oneshots as i read, chaptered fics tends to be where i live lol. i have like 200+ tabs open on my phone lol

(also fair warning that most if not all of these probably lean HEAVILY into fanon characterizations)

STRAIGHT OFF THE BAT (pun unintentional lol)

envysparkler does actually have a secondary account under greeneyedfirework. I haven't read many of the fics on this account, because a lot of them are SlaDick (or just have, like, Murder Uncle Slade Wilson) and I'm personally not into those tags at all so I haven't read a lot of them lol. BUT there are some good batfam works, often of the platonic/familial a/b/o persuasion, which i have started to really love lol. BUT BE WARNED!!!!! most of the works on this secondary account have a lot more intense of triggers than anything on envy's main account. heed the tags greatly, and do not read if it would be harmful or upsetting to you!

As for other authors with a good Batfamily fic selection, from memory and/or rediscovery with looking for fics to rec you:

Lulu_Rhythm - a large number of batfam fics. I haven't read all of them, but i have read a good number of them! they also have some roy harper centric fics (because they like to include roy into the batfam dynamics a lot) that i have not read yet, but theyre there if you are interested!

Harpersdragons - I actually just started going through this author's ao3 myself very recently, because a LOT of their works are archive-users-only restricted and as i have said many times, i always forget to log in lol. I've read a good handful of their fics so far and i am SUPER enjoying them!

Sohotthateveryonedied - they have a PLETHORA of batfam fics, a veritable feast lol. I def have not read them all because not all of them call to me personally, but in scanned through their works I do remember reading a good number of them, so I'm sure you'll find some that appeal to you here!

sardonic-sprite - a huge number of batfam fics, i def havent read them all, but i have read a number of them (and reread them in the process of making this post lol) and you should be able to find something that appeals to you here (just heed the fact that when they use "creator chose not to use archive warnings" tag that they use it properly and mean it. that is not a "no triggers" tag, that is a "this probably contains an archive warning but i am not telling you what because Spoilers")

TheCopperPan - some batfam works and some shippy works! I know i've read a good number of theirs, if not most of theirs, but its been a while and i only refreshed myself on a couple. Hopefully you find some things to enjoy here!

DaisyBirb - they have a lot of batfam stuff! I have not read all of it, but i've read at least a handful (even if its been a while since then lol) and i enjoy their stuff. But all their works (except I think one?) are archive-locked so you'll need to be logged in!

iselsis - TONS of batfam works!!! I've only gone back through a couple pages of their works so far in making this list but I have wound up rereading most of the works i come across on their page so would def recommend them lol

sElkieNight60 - rediscovered this author when going through the platnic a/b/o section below lol, and realized i had read a lot more by them so i figured i should put them here! i do believe some of their works are archive-locked (i cant remember if i've read any of the archive-locked works)

Miss_Lazy_Tuesday - a good handful of batfam fics! I've read most of these, and their 130K longfic i have read multiple times over lol. Just remember to heed the warnings and triggers for a lot of this author's work!! also keep in mind that they often delve heavily into the fanon idea of Lazarus Pit Madness for a few of their fics, so if that's a no-go for you, then some of their works (including their longfic) will not be for you!

_____________________________

Now, idk how else to present fics to you sdfkjhdf so i am gonna just go through some favorite tropes of mine!

Batfam fics with the Cuddle Pollen trope (cuddle pollen trope my beloved, i can never get enough of it -- and some of the authors listed above also have great cuddle pollen fics that i wont list here)

Beneath the Armor by Spagsdem

comes attached to a series with more batfam cuddles!!

Catherine Didn't Raise No Coward by Femme_Morte

ALSO comes with a series attached -- but I dont think ive read all of them. some of them are definitely too new compared to the last time i peeked at the series last year lol

Paper Hearts and Shredded Masks by Reesachan (Clymenestra)

this one is archive-locked, you will need to be logged in to read it

Adopting a Cuddly Stalker by ILoveFictioN

again, archive-locked, be logged in

personal space by lawltam

archive-locked, be logged in

The Second Stage by nightwalker

Cuddles Are The Best Medicine by Georgie_Likes_Toast

another cuddle pollen one that comes attached to a little series!

hold me close and hold me tight, tomorrow it'll be alright by soft_cactus

drink in the jasmine and rain by TaraLaurel

also has a series attached! have not reread the other two fics in the series in a hot minute though lol

reticent by CrimzonCrow

dancing shadows on the wall by Alienu

wing!fic!!!! i love a good wing!fic

The Ache of Loneliness by concur

The right thing by Lilse

heed the warnings on this one!! nothing like That happens, but Jason does fear that it will

Emergency Beacon by batsandthebirds

A Wilting Flower by C4t1l1n4

Spirit of the Rules by AceOfDivineChlorophyll

red hood identity reveal fic AND cuddle pollen fic???? sign me tf up lol. i have reread this one so many times i love it sm dskjfhf

embraced by foerchen

this one is also connected to a series, about the batboys being brothers! i think ive read at least most of the fics in the series? theyre also good, check them out!

long ride back by Muddell

somehow read this one for the first time going through the cuddle pollen tags for recs, and man, timmy is almost always the one Going Through It aint he dsjfdhf i guess he's just real whumpable lol

bleed just to know you're alive by no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation

background/low-level superbat in this one!

Cuddle Pollen: there's an app for that by potofsoup

swear on my freedom by carpbread

another wing!fic!!! i had also never seen/read this one before going through the tags to get recs and i very much liked it lol

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Batfam fics with platonic/familial a/b/o trope (i pulled these out of links i sent to Vileha a little while back, so i might be missing some that i like cuz i dont think i went the entire tag again when giving her recs lol. also a good number of the platonic a/b/o i like are by authors rec'd in the author section above, so check out those sorts of fics from them!!)

A Guide to Tame a Feral Crime Lord for Dummies by IntheRobinNest

an in-progress WIP i've been following for a few weeks now. i was hesitant to start it for months because i had no idea who some of the kiddo characters were, but i am so glad i started it because i am waiting on the edge of my seat for every update right now lol. i am LOVING this fic omg, if you are into (or interested in trying out) platonic a/b/o give it a shot

batpack genfic series by Anonymous

i revisit this series CONSTANTLY. would HIGHLY recommend. i love the way they explore the pack/family dynamics in this series, i think its some of the first batfam a/b/o i read when I started getting into the idea of it and looking through tags

Call for Comfort by VioletShimmer

Faith in Ghosts by timbitsandpieces

heed the tags and triggers on this one!!!!!!!

You Can Cry On My Shoulder by hero_red

Who could ever leave me (But who would stay?) by only2braincellsavailable

pillow forts and other necessities by Violettavonviolet

A pack in hand is worth two in the bush by only2braincellsavailable

Healing Through the Hurt by Huntressundone

this one is a cuddle pollen AND a/b/o fic so i didn't know which category to put it in jsdfjhdf but i decided a/b/o category lol

Other fics i would recommend that i can remember off the top of my head/have been reading recently lol (which, a number of long fics that i was gonna rec were actually by people in the author section so def check the longer fics out for those that have some lol)

To be Loved is to be Known by loreoftheforgotten

An in-progress WIP, slower to update. Heed the warnings and tags on this one! i've been following this one for several months now and i truly adore it. if you're into shifters tropes and trauma healing def look into this one. this one IS archive-locked, so you will need to be logged in to view it! (i almost lost this one because it got archive-locked between updates at some point and i freaked out when i couldnt find it again dsjfhdf)

Before Robin by wafflebish

another in-progress WIP. This one is focusing primarily on Dick and Bruce, and it's a time-travel fic (Dick traveling into the past to before Bruce even met Dick) so there's all sorts of delicious angst and secrets. ive really been enjoying this one too!

Inscribed on Body & Soul by drowningfire

when i was in high school i was kinda obsessed with soulmate AUs, but i very much fell out of it shortly after high school and have only read probably a handful since lol. I've been dipping back into the trope again with batfam (because platonic/familial soulmates are so wonderful!!) and this one i thought was SO good. i love the concept of a soulmark that isnt predestined but instead forms on you (or fades) thanks to the love that person has for you in the moment. Jason-centric

Sometimes Family Is Just The Guy Who Shows Up by AWarriorAtHeart1

mer-AU!!! I just started reading this one (by "just started" i mean "just found and read all 10 chapters in one sitting on the clock instead of working at my job" but thats just how i operate lol), but i find it very intriguing and i am eager to see where it goes next!!

hey angel (find the broken pieces of me, put them back together) by lavendar_betrayal

the moment i discovered this i immediately read it twice in a row lol. we got touch-starvation, we got embarassed by affection, we've got intense (platonic) relationship between batfam members, we got jason being a menace of an older brother. extremely soft (the first oneshot in this "other fics" section so far dsjfkhdf)

Let Them Be Brothers series(/The Mafia Files series) by quotidian_void

okay so i barely remember reading this one, BUT its in both my bookmarks and my subscriptions on ao3, and from a time when i was never remembering to log in. so if i remembered to log in to make sure i never lost this series, you know i had to have loved it sdkjhf. For this one, the "Let Them Be Brothers" series is the primary series, but the "Mafia Files (expansion pack)" series has some extra little add-ons to the universe if you wanna go deeper

Shutterbug series by goldkirk

i have not read all of the fics in this series!!! honestly i think i only really remember reading the first one (Latchkey), so like djfhdf, there are several fics in the series that are updating slowly so I've been waiting for them to finish before moving forward to see if the rest of the series is for me. Stalker/BatWatch blogger Tim Drake joins the batfam!

Safety by WrongLeverKronk

be warned, i think the tags dont really cover it, but tim Does get tortured for information in this fic by some thugs! but otherwise its a lot of comfort of his family taking care of him after they rescue him

The New Adventures of TimTam, the Chocolate Wonder by Kirazalea

been a while since i reread this one so i dont have much to say lol, but the summary and tags sum it up pretty well!

Banshee in a Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee)

heed the warnings and triggers on this one!!! i havent reread it in a while (i meant to reread it a bit ago when i sent it as a rec to Vileha, but i completely forgot dkjfhf) but if i remember right it gets a little intense with violence/gore? i dont remember a lot of specifics about this one but i remember enjoying it! angsty but if i liked it, it had to have ended well enough at least lol

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I was GONNA add a "Batfam meets the Justice League" trope section as well (because stumbling across fics under that trope was what got me into the batfam fandom initially, almost exactly a year ago now lol) but this was already SO long and taking me so long that i was like,,,, maybe if people want more fics recs i'll put that section in another post lol

AND LIKE I SAID 100% ask me for more if you want and I can take some days/weeks and gather some fics to do another round of this lol, i am always reading fic (and trying to do so logged in more often so i stop losing all the fics i read kjdsfh) this is non-exhaustive!!! there's even so so many good fics i didnt include in here!

if there is ever a specific trope, length of fic, etc etc etc that yall are looking for recs for (and it's something i will read) let me know because either i have read something that i can re-find for you, OR i will go and read fics until i find some recs for you lol (this goes for everyone fyi, not just catalogue lol)

It always came down to the same things with Bruce. Jason was reckless, dangerous, out of control and, as always, it was Bruce’s responsibility to curb, calm, and corral him. Bruce’s responsibility to rehabilitate him, as if Jason needed to be rehabilitated at all. He’d dropped the crime lord thing almost as soon as his plan for Bruce to kill the Joker blew up in his face (literally), and it wasn’t like the bodies he’d been dropping since were without merit. No one would miss those scum – abusers, pedophiles, serial murderers. Batman needed to learn that not everyone was capable of being saved.

“Are you sure?” Robin asked, creeping up to crouch beside him on the ledge. “Agent A misses you.”

The we miss you went unsaid. Hood knew he’d dropped the ball with his brothers since that dinner. Avoiding that Batcave (and the Manor) meant avoiding them by extension, since he was too wary of Bruce stalking their lines of communication to give them directions to any of his safehouses. Not to mention the fact that he moved between them so frequently that it would be difficult for them to keep up with where he was staying, anyways. He’d just started becoming family to Tim, and he almost immediately left the kid high and dry. Some big brother he was.

“Tell him I’ll try to come by soon.”

Robin hummed noncommittally, clearly seeing through Hood’s attempt to placate him. This time, Hood did sigh, the helmet translating it into static, and reached over to ruffle Robin’s hair. He resisted the urge to dig his fingers into one of the softer joints of Robin’s armor – his targets would absolutely hear that squeaking laughter.

“Tell you what, kid – I could use some help, here. Wanna help me take this group down?”

Robin perked up, sending a grin in his direction.

“Just make sure to leave one awake – we need to know where their boss is.”

“You got it.”

“On three. One, two–”

*     *     *

Nightwing didn’t even try to be stealthy as he landed behind the Red Hood, practically skipping across the rooftop to plop himself on the edge next to him. Hood didn’t spare him a glance, keeping his gaze firmly locked on the clouds above, as if he could see beyond them to the stars above. Though Gotham was his home, he couldn’t help but feel a bit homesick for the shine of the stars. He’d seen so many when he was with Talia and the LoA, but between Gotham’s constantly shit weather and all the light pollution, he hadn’t seen a single one since he returned.

“If you’re here about dinner,” Hood said, “I already told the little bird ‘no.’”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nightwing shrug. “Figured. I’m not going to try and convince you.”

“Really?” He said flatly.

In his peripheral, he saw Nightwing turn to stare at him. Hood kept his gaze forward. He’d taken his helmet off for a breath of fresh air, and having little more than a domino mask to protect his expressions made him feel far too exposed at the moment. At least the profile view added some sort of barrier to reading him.

“When I was close to your age, I didn’t exactly want to be around B most of the time either. There was a reason I moved out, and there was a reason I always made myself so busy with the Titans.”

Hood let out a long breath. “You’re around a lot more now than you used to be”

Nightwing finally turned away, looking down at his hands clasped between his knees. “It’s one of my biggest regrets, letting my shit relationship with B affect my relationship with you. When I did come by, it was mostly to see you – steal you away, teach you to be Robin, sneak out for train-hopping.”

Hood didn’t know what to say. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“With Robin, it still took me a while to get over myself, but I didn’t want to make the same mistakes twice. I overcompensated for a while before finding my balance.” He chuckled. “It drove Robin crazy sometimes. I was just so scared to lose another brother, especially without him knowing how much I cared about him. Me and B… we came to an understanding – at least, for the most part – over time, with me being around so often again.”

Guilt churned deep in Hood’s stomach. “Nightwing–”

Nightwing shook his head. “I’m not saying you have to come around. Honestly, stay away for as long as you need. Sometimes I still can’t even stand to be around him, no matter how much we’ve grown or how much I care about him. That’s probably why it hurts so much.” Nightwing turned to stare at him again, and this time Hood couldn’t keep himself from looking in Nightwing’s direction. “But don’t lock us out too just because B can’t get his righteous head out of his ass.”

Don’t make my mistakes, Hood heard underneath.

“Yeah,” was all Hood could manage.

They sat in silence for a bit longer before Hood heard the tell-tale buzz of a distant comm line. Nightwing raised his hand to his ear, likely for Hood’s benefit because Hood knew that’s not how the Bat-comms operated, and said, “I’m on my way.”

“Duty calls?”

Nightwing shot him a strained grin. “When doesn’t it?” His smile became a bit more natural as he scrubbed his hand over Hood’s head, making his helmet-hair even worse. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Red Hood didn’t have a chance to reply as Nightwing dove off the building, shooting out his grapnel line halfway through his fall. He waited until Nightwing disappeared in the smog before shoving his helmet back on. The Bats could handle the rest of the city, but Crime Alley wasn’t going to protect itself.

*     *     *

Jason got himself a phone.

He had plenty of phones, honestly – enough burners to cover all his bases and then some, and he frequently dumped and replaced them. This phone though, it was his first personal phone since he came back. He made sure to pass it off to Barbara first, get it souped up with all the Bat-grade protections it could possibly need, and with her sincere promise that Bruce himself wouldn’t have any way into the device despite that.

When she returned it, she’d done more than just upgrade his security. Where his contacts before had been a blank slate, there was now a neat list of five names. He flipped through them, changing four of the contact names to be much less formal. Opening the final contact, he hovered his thumb over the “Delete” button for several long minutes before letting out a slew of swears and closing out of the contacts app, leaving that final contact untouched.

He shot off quick texts to Dick and Tim, nothing more than a “Hey, it’s Jason.” and got a set of responses back almost immediately. Dick was a spam-texter, it seemed, cheering through his messages and telling Jason it was “about damn time” he got a phone. Tim sent him only two messages in reply. A brief “ew” and a follow-up of “you text with proper grammar??”

From that day on, there was not a single moment where Jason was free of his brothers. Dick started sending him dozens of TikToks a day (where he found the time to scroll TikTok so much in-between his day job and the vigilantism, Jason had no idea), practically forcing Jason to download the app just to keep up, as much as he despised social media. He was loathe to admit it, but every once in a while, some of the videos Dick sent him were actually kind of funny. 

Tim, on the other hand, seemed to get a kick out of sending Jason memes that he either wasn’t alive to see come about, or he was stuck with the League at the time with no knowledge of the current popular culture. He communicated almost exclusively through them, and Jason knew it was intentional to get under his nerves. It felt like he was trying to translate hieroglyphics at times, and whenever he asked Dick or Barbara for help, they just laughed at him.

And then, a few weeks in, the invites started coming through. 

A new coffee shop just opened up in the Bowery, you in? Jason was never getting coffee with Tim again after that, because holy shit, was his order horrific. 

There’s this adult arcade downtown — you in? Jason knew that they were the heirs to a billionaire, but he still couldn’t fathom the amount of money Dick spent on goddamn claw games. And somehow, he won every time. Jason didn’t even know where to put all the plushies Dick forced on him after that trip. 

Bowling?? Steph said this place is actually only marginally sketchy. Jason and his brothers were now banned from the bowling alley.

Okay so bowling was a bust — roller-skating? Jason and Tim were now banned from the skating rink. Dick somehow got off scott-free. Jason blamed the puppy-dog eyes.

*     *     *

Even once he and Bruce were on speaking terms again, the invites didn’t stop – which was how Jason found himself making the drive to Bludhaven one evening. Dick decided that they were due for a movie night, and since Jason was still avoiding the Manor itself, he’d decided that the next best place would be his own apartment.

They ordered some absolute monstrosities from the nearby pizza joint (Dick’s pineapple and andouille pizza was always horrifying, but at least Jason had been prepared for it – Tim’s Canadian bacon pizza with onions and artichoke hearts, Jason never wanted to see again), and Dick left the two of them to pick the movie while he went to pick up the pizza.

Of course, the little snot was nothing if not an absolute nerd, and most of his suggestions were weird sci-fi shit. As if they didn’t get enough of that with their gallery of doctorate-wielding Rogues and their insane fucking inventions. Then again – Jason had the perfect solution to get what he wanted out of the kid.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Tim shrieked in-between frantice giggling, trying to pry Jason’s hands off his sides.

Jason hummed. “Dick would be very disappointed in you when he got back if you did.”

Tim managed to twist out of his grip, throwing himself across the rug to create distance between them. “What’s wrong with Interstellar anyways?”

Jason wrinkled his nose. “Don’t we deal with enough dimension-travel and time-travel shit enough in our night jobs?” He launched himself forward after Tim, ignoring the kid’s squeals as he dragged him close again. “Besides, letting you win the movie pick means I don’t get to do this.”

Jason wasted no time on this second attack, immediately digging his fingers into Tim’s highest ribs. Tim almost choked on his laughter, shrieking out a few curse words, and Jason had little doubt that Dick would have a noise complaint by the end of the night. Whatever – it wasn’t like it was Jason’s problem. No, the only thing Jason needed to worry about right now was what method made Tim laugh the hardest. Fingernails or fingertips? Wiggling or squeezing? Vibrating fingers or fast skittering? He just couldn’t decide.

Tim was practically in tears by the time he finally conceded to Jason’s movie choice, having laughed himself nearly hoarse. Just in time, too, because Dick just texted their group chat (also new – and the incessant spam of notifications that often burst from it annoyed Jason to no end) that he was on the way up.

“Just you wait,” Tim said, chest heaving and face cherry-red. “I’m gonna sic Dick on you, and then you’ll be sorry.”

Jason snorted, making himself comfortable on Dick’s lumpy-ass sofa. “Good luck with that kid. I already told you both – the Pit took care of that. I’m immune.” He gave a playfully malicious grin. “Leaves me with plenty of chances to torture you, though, don’t worry.”

The front door to the apartment banged open. “Hey – does anyone know why my neighbor just cussed me out in the hallway? I swear, he’s never looked that– Timmy? What the hell happened?”

Jason laughed.

*     *     *

Bruce was out of town for a few days – an actual business trip this time, no JL covers – and he took Alfred with him. Which meant that someone needed to cover Gotham for the week. Which meant that Dick was in town for an extended period of time. All of this also meant that Dick and Tim were left in the Manor unsupervised with no Alfred to keep them from burning down the kitchen.

That’s how Jason found himself being guilt-tripped into spending the week at the Manor with them, if only to ensure they didn’t survive solely off of cereal, microwave meals, and caffeine. Dick, of course, was thrilled at their “Brother Sleepover,” and promptly spent the week kicking their ass at Mario Kart. Not even Tim, in all his nerdy, geeky glory could beat him, and death had done Jason no favors with his own virtual racing skills.

Overall, despite the constant skin-crawling feelings Jason had for half the week, his stay at the Manor didn’t go horribly. Plus, it was kind of nice cooking for more than just one person. He might have to establish a more permanent safehouse so he could have his brothers (and Barbie – he’d have to make sure the elevator was actually working in whatever building he chose) over for dinner. Or maybe he’d finally try coming to another family dinner, just for the excuse of helping Alfred cook.

Either way, by the end of the week, Dick was adamant that it was about time for another brothers’ movie night. Jason rolled his eyes and put up the expected complaints (it was a familiar song and dance now – even if he didn’t mean it), but still found himself at the grocery store while Dick picked Tim up from school, picking out ingredients to make them a special dinner for the last night of their “Brother Sleepover.” He was shoving everything into the kitchen when Dick and Tim got home, Tim groaning as he entered the kitchen for a snack.

“Jason – your food is amazing and all, but can we please just get takeout tonight?”

Jason turned around, his eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“We can just order pizza instead – I won’t even get anything weird on it!”

“You’d rather have greasy takeout pizza than a home-cooked meal?” Jason crossed his arms and leaned back against the kitchen island. “You’d give Alfred a heart-attack.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never begged Alfred for takeout instead of something from home.”

Jason pursed his lips. He couldn’t exactly argue that – they all had at some point. Still, “I already got the shit, we’re eating here.”

Jason pinpointed the exact moment when Tim went from normal vigilante teenager to horribly obnoxious piece of shit. He narrowed his eyes for a moment before his expression turned to an exaggerated pout. He slumped his shoulders and gazed up at Jason with his little wounded-baby-bird eyes. 

“Come on, Jay, please? We can make it another night – can’t we have pizza?”

Jason huffed and pushed himself away from the counter. “Alright you little shit – get over here.”

He made a swipe for Tim, who shrieked and immediately launched himself out of reach when Jason’s fingers grazed his ribs. When he looked up at Jason this time, gone was the faux-pout. Instead, his eyes were wide with surprise and anticipation, the twitch of his mouth almost giddy as he eyed Jason’s hands warily. Jason grinned and took a heavy step forward, drawing out the game. Then, suddenly, Tim’s eyes narrowed and his jaw set. Without warning, he bolted from the kitchen.

“Wha– get back here! Face your sentence like a man, TimTam!”

Jason raced after him, winding through the labyrinthian halls of the Manor. As they got closer to the front side of the mansion, Tim started shouting.

“Dick! Dick, help me!”

Jason’s jaw dropped. “You fucking– running to Dick for help, as if you don’t deserve this!”

“Dick, he’s doing it again!”

As they approached the den, Jason put on a burst of speed. Unfortunately, it seemed as though Tim was holding back as well, breaking into a dead sprint to reach the den first. The two of them crashed through the entryway, knocking down a whole stack of pillows and blankets that someone had piled by the door. Dick stood in the middle of the room, clearly having been rearranging furniture for the “ideal movie night positioning,” looking absolutely flabbergasted.

Tim, still with that young Robin springiness, was able to extricate himself from the avalanche of comfy items easily. He bounced out of the pile and darted behind Dick, using him as a human shield. Jason, while highly trained, was now all bulky muscle instead of flexible springiness, and had a harder time wading out of the mess.

“What on earth is going on, here?” Dick asked, gaze darting between Jason and Tim behind his back.

“He’s trying to kill me!”

Jason scoffed. “Please – you were being a little shit, you can’t tell me you didn’t deserve it.”

Tim peeked around Dick’s torso to stick his tongue out at Jason, before ducking back behind Dick as Jason finally got his foot free of the last blanket and began to approach.

Dick had a look on his face, that constipated one he made when he wanted to laugh but was still trying to take them seriously for the sake of their pride. “And how, exactly, was Jason going to kill you?” Dick tilted slightly to the side to look at Tim, exposing him to Jason’s sight.

The apples of Tim’s cheeks went pink as he scowled at them both. “Tickle me,” he mumbled.

Jason clicked his tongue, advancing on them both. “You heard the kid – he said to tickle him, let’s get to it Goldie.”

Dick broke, laughing as Tim yelped and ducked fully behind him again. He laughed even harder as Jason tried to reach around him and snatch Tim, doing nothing to help.

“You know, Jay – you’ve turned into quite the tickle monster over the past few months.”

Jason grunted, barely paying attention. “Yeah? He’s getting the full little brother experience, I remember what you were like when I was a kid.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed. Before Jason had even fully processed the change in expression, his hackles had raised. He backed out of Dick’s space quickly, eyeing him with suspicion. Tim perked up, picking up on the change in vibes. Jason was no longer the most dominant personality in the room. 

Dick’s mouth twisted into a smirk. One that Jason remembered all too well. “Maybe a little payback is in order, Little Wing. What do you think?

Jason crossed his arms, raising to his full height to try and cut a more intimidating figure. Dick’s eyes twinkled, and he could practically imagine Dick cooing at the posturing inside his own head.

“I’ve already told you both, the Pit got rid of all that.”

Dick looked him up and down. “Really? Why are you all the way over there, then?”

“Muscle memory.”

“Right, right. You know, you never have let us prove that theory of yours.”

Jason widened his stance as subtly as he could, preparing to run. “What would be the point of that?”

Dick bared his teeth, a facsimile of a friendly smile. Jason turned tail to bolt, but a body suddenly latched onto his back. Knocked off balance, Jason found himself tumbling face-first into the mountain of pillows and blankets. Seriously – why had Dick brought so many? He tossed the body off his back, hearing Tim’s laughter filled oof as he got swallowed by the plush pile as well. He barely managed to roll over in time to catch Dick’s hands as he dove towards Jason’s prone form.

“I think someone’s been lying,” Dick sing-songed, trying to twist his hands out of Jason’s grip

“I think you’re full of shit – let me up, Dick.”

Dick pulled out his most innocent expression. “But Little Wing – you’re the one holding onto me.”

“Yeah because you’re going to– be a jerk!”

Dick laughed, his own grip on Jason’s hands flexing. “Yeah? How am I gonna be a jerk?”

“I’m not falling for that.”

Dick shrugged. “Doesn’t change anything.”

Tim popped up from the bedding, hair sticking every which way from being mussed against the fabrics. “You do kinda deserve it.”

“Shut your trap, snotface.”

Tim wrinkled his nose. “Rude.”

Jason pursed his lips, running through every escape plan in his mind. He was trapped in this comfy avalanche, sinking deeper with every struggle – even if Dick wasn’t hovering overtop him, it would take him way too long to crawl his way out. The second he let go of Dick’s hands to try and get away, he was a goner – Dick knew all his worst spots, and exactly how to target them. Dick was like a shark who smelled blood, there was almost no getting out of this now.

Unless he took Dick down first.

Jason tossed Dick’s hands to the sides as hard as he could. He heard Tim yelp and collapse back into the blankets to avoid a flying limb, but he figured the kid was fine – Robins had quick reflexes. Before Dick could recover, Jason dove his own hands toward Dick’s knees and thighs, squeezing away the moment he found muscle. Dick cried out, immediately bursting into cackles. After a few seconds, he wavered and collapsed sideways into the blanket pile next to Jason.

“Fucking jerk!”

Jason grinned. “Don’t forget Dickie – I’m bigger than you now.”

Despite laughing his head off and failing to squirm away from Jason’s hands, Dick still had that devious twinkle in his eyes. He fought to speak through his laughter, “You may be bigger, but we have numbers.”

“We–?”

For the second time in as many minutes, a small body barrelled into Jason’s back. Overbalancing, Jason was forced to take one hand off of Dick and plant it into the blankets to compensate for the new weight.

“I still don’t get why you had to throw me at him like a ragdoll the first time,” Tim piped up from behind him.

Dick twisted and contorted in ways only he could and suddenly Jason found himself swallowed by the blankets and cushions once more. Tim yelped and barely scrambled off in time to avoid getting crushed.

“You threw him?” Jason asked incredulously.

Dick shrugged. “Enrichment for baby birds. They love flying.”

Tim popped back up, his hair even worse than before. “That’s fair.”

While Jason was distracted by the absolute robin’s nest on Tim’s head, Dick lunged again. They entered into a grapple, one that Jason quickly lost at the unexpected flutter of Tim’s fingers in the crook of his neck. He yelped at an embarrassing pitch as one hand darted up to snatch the offending fingers.

“You are still ticklish!” Dick crowed.

“Liar!” Tim shouted at the same time.

Dick took full advantage of the moment of distraction, grabbing onto the wrist of Jason’s raised hand with both of his and pinning it in the pile of fluff. His torso wound up draped diagonally over Jason’s chest to do it, almost knocking the wind out of him.

“Get him!”

Small, precise fingers slipped under Jason’s leather jacket, scribbling against the hoodie underneath. It was thick enough to provide protection from the hesitant touch, but Jason still couldn’t stop the instinctive flinch from fingers just existing that close to his underarms.

“Fuck you!” He yelled, struggling under Dick’s weight. He had Jason’s arm well-pinned, he had far better leverage and the angle was awkward from the shifting of the blankets. Jason reached to pry the fingers away with his free arm, but Dick’s body blocked his arm from being able to reach.

“Harder, Timmy! He’s got layers–”

“I’m not fucking Shrek–”

“Are you sure?” Tim, that little snot.

“You’re such a fucking– No!”

Two hands delivered a series of nibbling pinches up and down Jason’s exposed side and ribs, the sensation cutting through his hoodie like it was nothing. He tossed his head back with laughter, hating how bubbly it sounded. His legs lurched up, bending at the knees.

“Wow,” Tim said over his laughter. “I didn’t know you could laugh and it actually sound happy.”

Dick chuckled. “You should’ve heard him when he was younger – all shrieky and giggly. I’m glad he didn’t grow out of it.”

“I’m right here, assholes!”

Dick clicked his tongue. “That you are, Jay. Are we not paying enough attention to you? Here, I’ll help.”

“Dick, no!”

Obviously, Dick did not listen. With Jason already growing weaker from the laughter and tickling, Dick could easily keep him pinned with just one hand. With his newly freed fingers, he reached down and clawed into Jason’s stomach. Jason shrieked, his legs lurching up again as he instinctively tried to curl around the weak point and was halted by Dick being in the way.

“Wow,” Tim said. “Dick really wasn’t joking, you are freakishly ticklish.”

Jason tried to bare his teeth. With how wide his smile was, he wasn’t sure the threat came across. “Not as ticklish as you.”

Tim only smirked at him. “Well, I’m not the one pinned down, am I?”

Little shit. Jason was absolutely going to get him later. And Dick, too.

“Might as well get revenge while I can, right?” Tim continued. “What’s that thing you like to do to me? Rib counting?”

Dick laughed again, leaning his weight more heavily on Jason’s torso. He took his own tickling fingers away, using that hand to try and shove Jason’s legs down instead.

“Diabolical, Baby Bird. Count away, I’ll try to keep our little pill-bug here from messing you up.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Tim’s voice was the epitome of innocence. “If he messes me up, it just means I have to start over again. I mean, that’s what you taught me, right, Jay?”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

Tim hummed. “Yeah, it pays to be thorough.”

Jason’s ribs were far from his most ticklish spot, but when Tim’s hands slipped underneath his hoodie, leaving him only with a threadbare t-shirt as his last layer of defense, Jason thought he was going to die. He always knew he was ticklish as all hell, but going without the feeling for so long, every sensation felt electric. He couldn’t even keep track of his own laughter, and he tried his damndest to tune out Tim’s count because he was not about to let his baby brother get the upper hand in teasing, too. 

The most infuriating part? The fact that he couldn’t stop the warm, melty feeling in his chest, hearing Tim giggle along or seeing Dick beaming down at him. He was the goddamned Red Hood. He should not be having this much fun in a one-sided tickle fight with his brothers – especially not on the losing side.

Jason’s legs jumped up again, and this time Jason put a little more control into it. He tried to ram his knees into Dick’s side – jostle him, knock him off Jason’s torso, or hell, even just annoy him. Jason didn’t care, so long as he landed a hit. Unfortunately, Dick’s free hand was still poised to ward off any attacks, shoving his legs away every time they got too close. When he finally slipped a knee past Dick’s defenses, he called out an affronted “hey” and reached out to grab the joint.

The squawking little yip that Jason let out as the joint was squeezed may have been the most embarrassing noise that he’d ever made in his life. Both Dick and Tim tumbled into laughter, pausing their attack.

“Let me go,” Jason demanded as he regained his breath. His voice didn’t quite carry the heat he had been looking for.

Dick turned to give him that creepy stare-down that made it feel like he was tearing Jason’s soul open to look inside. Satisfied with whatever he found, his mouth twisted back into his patented “tickle monster” smirk.

“I don’t think so, Little Wing. I mean, a few rounds of rib counting is hardly revenge.”

Jason started squirming and kicking, making a show out of trying to get away despite knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere. Dick gave him a few squeezes to the kneecap for the trouble, sending Jason into mortifying titters. 

“Where’s his tickle spot?” Tim asked eagerly, raising up on his knees to scan over Jason’s torso. “That’ll show him.”

Dick pressed his lips together on a smile. Apparently, laughing at Jason was fair game, but laughing at the adorable menace that was Tim Drake was not allowed.

“Dick—“

“I think it’s cheating to tell, Timmy.” Dick cut off Jason’s protest before he could even get started. Jason nearly let out a sigh of relief, but Dick wasn’t done. “I think you’re just gonna have to keep going until you find it.”

“What—“

Tim let out an evil laugh, far more menacing than any 15 year old had the right to be — let alone one that looked so much like a wet cat.

Too quickly for Jason to take advantage of, Dick raised off his body and slid into place behind his head. Jason tried to go for Tim with his newfound reach, but Dick snatched his wrist out of the air and easily pinned it down. After a brief struggle, Jason gave up and just laid there, staring at the ceiling.

“I hate you both.”

“Sure you do, Jay.”

Tim waddled up to Jason, wading through the blankets and pillows surrounding them on his knees. He hovered over Jason for a moment, uncertainty flashing through his eyes.

Aw, hell.

“Well, Timbo? Do your worst. I know you won’t find it.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, the uncertainty vanishing as Tim was confronted with a competition.

“Oh, yeah? And what if I do?”

Jason hummed, pretending to consider. “You might earn yourself a pizza.”

Tim lit up like a Christmas tree. His hands shot out to Jason’s ribs, provoking that bubbly laughter once more.

“Well, we already know it’s not here.”

“So why are you tickling there?!”

Dick laughed at them.

Tim stuck his tongue out at him. “‘Cause it’s funny.”

But he did move his hands, crawling them up into Jason’s armpits like two devious little spiders. Jason jolted, snorts intermingling with his laughter.

“Get out!”

Tim perked up. “Did I find it?”

“Sorry, Baby Bird,” Dick said. “Not just yet.”

Tim frowned and furrowed his brow — his thinking face looked uncannily like Bruce’s — and scanned Jason’s torso. His hands flitted down to Jason’s stomach and sides, his laughter dying down the slightest bit but thankfully not at giggles quite yet. The Red Hood did not giggle.

“Dick got you here, so it’s not here.”

Jason’s legs bounced up as he instinctively tried to curl around the hands. Tim took a page out of Dick’s book, squeezing Jason’s kneecap until it jumped out of his grasp.

“Or here, but you sound ridiculous right now.”

Jason tried to growl through his laughter, but Tim wasn’t exactly wrong. Jumping between the light laughter from his stomach and the high pitched tittering from his knees, Jason was making an absolute fool of himself. His only saving grace was that Bruce wasn’t home to witness it. He’d never live that down.

Tim gave Jason a break, lifting his hands to run them through his messy hair. “Am I completely off track, is it your feet or something?”

“Not. Telling.” 

Tim glared at Jason for a moment before flicking his eyes up to Dick’s, giving him that puppy-gaze. Jason looked up too, trying to burn holes through Dick’s skull with his eyes. Dick smirked, his eyes darting down to Jason’s torso and back up to Tim’s face again. Tim got that constipated look again, his own eyes darting back down to Jason’s abdomen.

“But—?”

Then Tim made The Face. The same face he made when he’d solved a tough case that he’d been working for a while. The wide eyes, the slightly parted lips, as if he was surprised at his own success, the relaxing of his ever-scrunched-up eyebrows. A jolt of giddy panic sparked up Jason’s chest.

“You already lost,” he said quickly. “You asked Dick for help. You cheated.”

Tim met his eyes. “Well then, I guess I have nothing else to lose.”

Giving Jason no time to prepare, Tim started squeezing away at Jason’s hips. It wasn’t as bad as his memories of Bruce or Dick attacking him, but they’d had the benefit of practice. A lot of practice. As it was, it still tickled like hell. Jason’s mind went blank as he practically screamed out cackles. He tried to curl himself into a ball again, and this time, his brothers let him. Dick released his arms and Tim let his legs shoot up, and Jason curled himself into the tightest ball that he could around all the bulky muscle he had now.

That didn’t mean Tim had stopped tickling though. No, even as Jason rolled onto his side in a feeble defense, Tim just targeted both hands on the hip that was still accessible.

“Aw, little pill-bug Jay is alive and well,” Dick cooed.

I’ll kill you here and now, Jason wanted to say. Unfortunately, all his breath was currently being directed to support his laughter. Thankfully, Dick only let Tim go on for a couple more minutes before pulling him back, leaving Jason to heave in breaths as he recovered.

“Next time,” Dick stage-whispered. “I’ll show you how ticklish his back is.”

“Next time,” Jason grumbled. “I’ll cut off your damn hands.”

Tim snorted. Dick patted him on the back. 

“Sure you will, buddy.”

“So,” Tim said, drawing out the word, “since you’re so tired from that and all – maybe you wanna get pizza instead of cooking?”

Jason took a deep breath before heaving himself up to a sitting position, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Nope.”

Tim groaned as well, flopping back into the mess they made of Dick’s pile of bedding.

Shaking off the last of the ghost tickles, Jason gave Dick a heated glare as he pushed himself to his feet. Dick blinked back innocently. His brothers were such goddamned liars.

“I already bought the ingredients,” Jason said. “I’m cooking and you’re going to like it.”

Tim levelled him with a challenging look. “And what if I don’t.”

“Then you’ll suck it up and eat it anyway.”

Jason tromped out of the room, heading back toward the kitchen. Dick and Tim could handle the den setup without him – they were much pickier about blanket nests than he was. Where Jason would just slap together a blanket fort with some kitchen chairs and sheets, Tim preferred to engineer a structurally sound blanket castle when he had the chance. Leaving Tim with free reign of the den furniture and half the Manor’s worth of bedding to accomplish this task gave Jason more than enough time to finish up dinner with the prep he’d done earlier that day.

Seeing Tim’s face light up as Jason personally delivered his monstrosity of a pizza order, made from scratch, almost made the whole meaningless argument that led to his torture worth it. 

Almost.

“B,” Dick said, drawing out the sound. “Please?”

Bruce rubbed at his eyes. “Are you saying this because you’re scared, or because you want to stay up late and watch TV?”

Dick hesitated, only a split-second, but it was enough for Bruce to catch. Then, his chin started trembling and his eyes went wide and watery. “I’m scared, Bruce. Please?”

Bruce did his best to stay patient. Dick was just a boy – an angry, grieving boy at that. Testing boundaries was not abnormal – at least, not according to Alfred and the multitude of parenting books Bruce had bought. Bruce wondered if he had been this much trouble when he was a child.

Truthfully, he was probably far worse.

So after a few deep breaths and a bit of brainstorming, an idea came to Bruce. One that wouldn’t traumatize Dick even further, but that would enforce the rules about bedtimes.

“You know… I didn’t want to tell you this and scare you more, but I think you should know.”

Dick hugged Zitka tighter, curling into Bruce’s chest. “What?”

“There’s this monster. It comes for little kids who don’t go to bed when they’re supposed to – attacks them until they do.”

Dick gasped. “A monster?”

“Oh yes. It’s big and furry, and it’s got these huge claws. You can’t escape it, not unless you agree to its demands.”

Dick frowned. “But – you’re Batman. Can’t you beat it?”

Bruce shook his head, his tone solemn. “No. I’m sorry chum, but not even Batman can beat this monster. And it’s coming for you, soon.”

“What is it?” Dick whispered.

Bruce leaned in close, so close he could whisper in Dick’s ear. “The Tickle Monster.”

Dick was shrieking before Bruce even started, and he couldn’t help but laugh as his hands connected with the boy’s sides. He took advantage of his current position, blowing a loud raspberry into the crook of Dick’s neck before making “om-nom-nom”-ing sounds to really sell that there was a monster eating Dick right up.

Dick giggled and snorted and shrieked, pushing at Bruce’s head and hands. “No Tickle Monster!”

Bruce pulled back to look Dick in the eyes. “I’m sorry, chum, but it’s already too late! The monster can’t stop until you agree to go to sleep.”

A determined expression flitted over Dick’s face before he tumbled back into laughter. “Never!”

Bruce sighed, as if this was paining him, and clawed his hands into Dick’s ribs. “Then you leave me no choice.”

Dick rolled back and forth, trying to dislodge Bruce’s hands from his ribs. Bruce followed him easily, creeping his hands upward until they were buried in Dick’s armpits. Dick shrieked with childish laughter, kicking his legs out in Bruce’s direction.

“B! No, it tickles!”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s the point, Dickie.”

With no warning, Bruce jumped down to Dick’s stomach where his pajama shirt had ridden up from all his squirming. Dick cried out and curled up on his back, continuing to kick his feet so that Bruce had to shift out of the way to avoid getting kicked in the face.

“No! Not there!”

“Ticklish tummy, chum? Hmm, the Tickle Monster’s getting hungry.”

“No he’s not!”

“Oh, but he is.”

Shoving his legs out of the way for safety, Bruce leaned down and blew a series of short raspberries around Dick’s stomach. Dick cackled, tossing his head back and shaking it back and forth, scrubbing his hair into tangles against the sheets. Bruce laughed and leaned back down, repeating the raspberries. This time, he squeezed up and down Dick’s sides as he did so. Dick nearly launched out of the bed when Bruce’s fingers squeezed just below his ribs.

“B!” He practically screamed.

“Oho, did I find a tickle spot?”

“You jerk!”

Bruce grinned and dug in, targeting that one spot over and over. Dick laughed himself into silence, throwing himself around the bed like a fish flopping around on a deck. Bruce tickled there for a few more moments before one of Dick’s little hands began slapping onto the mattress with purpose, like how Bruce taught him to tap out for a spar.

Bruce pulled back, running a hand through Dick’s hair as he melted into a boneless puddle of pre-teen, giggling breathlessly. With his free hand, Bruce set out to straightening the sheets and blankets and fetching Zitka from where she somehow got tossed on the other side of Bruce. With his precious elephant tucked into his arms, Dick rolled onto his side with his back to Bruce and buried the remainder of his giggles into her fluff.

“Alright, chum?”

Dick rolled over to his other side so he could plaster himself against Bruce. “The Tickle Monster’s evil.”

Bruce chuckled under his breath. “Is he, now? I suppose that means you ought to get to bed on time, doesn’t it?”

Dick groaned. “I guess so.” He was quiet for a moment, shuffling his feet under the sheets. “Can I stay here tonight? Just in case the bad dreams come back?”

Bruce felt something in his chest melt. “Of course, chum. You’re always welcome here.”

Dick was asleep before Bruce even turned out the lights, clearly tuckered out from all the activity.

*     *     *

There was a soft blue glow coming from the entryway to the family den.

Normally this wouldn’t be odd – Dick had always been a bit of a night owl, and their nightlife had never helped with that matter. It wasn’t uncommon for Dick to sprawl across the sofas in the den, TV playing at a low volume, until he felt as though he could sleep. Sometimes, Bruce came downstairs the next morning to Dick passed out on the couch, TV still playing in the background.

But last Bruce had checked, Dick had been at Titan’s Tower. He would know. He’d checked Dick’s tracker obsessively before, during, and after his own patrol until Alfred practically forced him into the locker room to shower. As far as Bruce knew, Dick had been intending to stay the night. He’d been doing that a lot lately – even on school nights, despite Bruce’s rules. Even if they hadn’t actively been fighting beforehand, Dick seemed to be looking for any excuse possible to be out of the Manor and away from Bruce.

So to enter the den and see Dick laying stiffly across one of the couches, a surly expression chiseled into his face, was rather surprising.

“Dick? Are you alright?”

One of Dick’s eyebrows twitched. “Fine.”

“Why don’t you head up to bed soon? You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch.”

Dick shot him a glare. “I’m fine.”

He very clearly wasn’t fine. The bags under his eyes were deep and dark, reminiscent of the greasepaint Bruce used to wear under the cowl before he switched the eyeholes out for pure white lenses. Dick’s hair, which he normally took so much pride in, was greasy and unbrushed, sticking every which way like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. And he was far too pale, almost as pale as Bruce. Dick clearly wasn’t well.

“Chum–”

“I said I’m fine, Bruce! God!” Dick snapped, then promptly seemed to realize he was proving the exact opposite of his words and focused back on the TV.

Bruce wavered in the doorway for a moment. They’d both been hotheaded recently, Dick chafing under Bruce’s rules and guidance as he grew. It seemed like no matter what Bruce did, it blew up in both of their faces. If Dick was insisting he was alright, maybe it would be better to leave it be – to give Dick his space, to head up to bed and sleep for the board meeting Lucius would no doubt be dragging him to tomorrow.

But then he caught another glimpse of Dick’s face, looking so distinctly unwell, and Bruce knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep himself without a little pushing.

Bruce entered the den, ignoring the wordless growl Dick let out as he approached. He pressed the back of his hand against Dick’s forehead, unrelenting even as Dick tried to push his arm away.

“I’m not sick!”

Bruce hummed, allowing Dick to push him away after several seconds. “You feel a bit warm.”

“I’m not. I’m a perfectly normal temperature.”

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, still wet since he hadn’t bothered to dry it after his shower. He crouched next to the sofa, ignoring the way his left knee cracked and popped. Vigilantism wasn’t exactly easy on the joints. 

“Did something happen?”

Dick hesitated a moment too long, but his tone was cruel and snappish when he spoke. “No. I already told you, I’m fine.”

Bruce pursed his lips, temper flaring. “If you’re so fine, then you should have no issues heading up to bed for school tomorrow.”

Dick’s glare snapped back to his face. “Are you serious, right now?”

“Is there a reason I wouldn’t be?”

Dick turned away and wriggled into the cushions, as if digging himself deeper into them. He crossed his arms, steadfastly ignoring where Bruce was crouched next to him. 

Bruce stood and took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Dick never responded well to his frustration, and he didn’t have the energy to fight after such a long patrol. He doubted Dick did either, with what seemed to be the beginnings of a fever coursing through his body. What Dick needed most right now was rest, whether or not he wanted it. 

But how could Bruce convince him? With Dick’s stubborn pride, there would be no convincing him with words. He didn’t exactly want to wake Alfred for the confrontation, either. If he manhandled Dick up the stairs, it could end poorly for both of them, not to mention how it would piss Dick off even worse.

But there was one thing Bruce remembered, something that always worked like a charm when Dick was younger. Something Bruce hadn’t tried in a very long time, now.

“Don’t you remember what happens to boys who don’t go to bed on time?” Bruce said, trying to force some playful cheer into his voice. It just came out awkward and strained.

Still, it got a reaction. Dick faced him again, eyes immediately shooting to his hands. “I’m not a little kid anymore, B.”

“Maybe not. But I heard the Tickle Monster’s hungry.” He was getting closer to the tone he was reaching for, but he wasn’t quite there yet. “It’s been so long since his last meal.”

Dick shifted on the couch, like he was debating making a break for it. “The Tickle Monster’s not real, B.”

“Isn’t he? I guess you’ll find out if you don’t get up to bed, won’t you?”

There, the ball was in Dick’s court. If he refused again, that was permission, right? It’s not like Dick didn’t have a laptop in his room, full of passwords for every streaming service known to man. He didn’t have to be in the den to stay up and watch TV – if Dick really wanted to be left alone, Bruce wasn’t sure why he chose a public room of the Manor.

Dick narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “I’m not scared of the damn Tickle Monster, Bruce.”

Choice made. Bruce hummed. “Suit yourself.”

This time, he sat on the edge of the couch, right by Dick’s hip. Dick squawked at his proximity and shoved at his shoulder, though he wasn’t even using half his strength. Taking this as permission, Bruce clawed both of his hands into the center of Dick’s stomach. He squawked again, this time tipping over into giggles at the end of the sound.

“B, cut it out!”

A smile twitched at the edge of Bruce’s lips. “Sorry, B’s not here. Just the Tickle Monster.”

Dick tried to groan, but cut himself off with his own laughter as Bruce added a few squeezes to his hips. “You’re so lame!”

Bruce gasped. “Lame? Here I am, starving for laughter, and you call me lame?”

“Because you are!” With Bruce’s body leaving him nowhere to squirm, Dick instead started turning like a rotisserie chicken.

Bruce tutted. “And here I was going easy on you. You really wanna do this?”

Dick flipped him off. Bruce gave into his smile, squeezing strategically at Dick’s hips, sides, and ribs until he got Dick to turn on his stomach. He pressed a hand on Dick’s back to keep him from turning anymore and promptly dug into the back of Dick’s thighs with his free hand.

Dick screeched, immediately burying his face into the throw pillow underneath him to muffle the sound. It was probably for the best – this sort of scene had drawn Alfred into the room with his shotgun more than once. Thankfully, even with the pillow, Bruce could still just barely make out his words.

“No, no, no!” 

Of course, it wasn’t hard to make out the words when they were so simple.

“I think the Tickle Monster’s winning this time, chum.”

“Fuck you!” Dick turned his head just enough for his speech to become clearer, just long enough to say, “Get away from there!”

“Away from where? Away from here?”

Bruce spidered his fingers into the back of Dick’s knees, jumping between the two sporadically. Dick shrieked, panicked giggles lost into his pillow. He kicked his legs, but Bruce easily avoided them, shoving his calves back to the couch. He gave one a playful squeeze and Dick jumped, snorting into the cushion.

“Really, here too? Or maybe this was where you wanted me to get away from, hm?”

He occupied himself with squeezing at Dick’s calves for a few seconds, chuckling under his breath at the snorts he could just barely make out through Dick’s pillow.

“Why don’t we try this – I’ll just tickle all over, and you tell me when I get to where I should stay away from.”

“B!”

Bruce ignored him, pinching up and down the backs of Dick’s thighs and knees. Dick shrieked and squeaked, cackled and giggled, and tried his damned hardest to squirm his way off the couch despite Bruce holding him in place. He always did seem to forget how weak and boneless he became when he laughed.

“Well?”

“Any of it!” Dick cried out. “All of it!”

Bruce laughed outright, pausing in his attack. “Is this you telling the Tickle Monster you’ll go to bed?”

He let Dick roll over this time, still giggling wildly. “Yes. Yes, I promise.”

“Anything you want to talk about before you head upstairs?”

Dick sighed, less melting into the couch cushions and more going boneless with exhaustion. “A mission with the Teen Titans didn’t go so well. That’s all.”

Bruce ran a hand through Dick’s hair. “One poorly handled mission doesn’t mean you’re a failure, for you as a leader or for the team as a whole. You take this and you learn your lesson, you make sure everyone does better next time – but beating yourself up over it is only going to be unproductive.”

Dick gave him a wry look. “Oh, yeah? Says you.”

Bruce returned it. “How do you think I know all this?”

Dick snorted, tilting his head back into Bruce’s hand. “Do as you say, not as you do, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Dick hummed. They sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes before Bruce sighed, peeling himself from his son’s side.

“Alright, let’s get you some medicine and up to bed.”

Dick frowned. “I told you – I’m not sick.”

Bruce stared him down. Though he’d gone red for a handful of minutes from all his laughter, Dick’s face had returned to that sickly pallor. The only flush that remained was high in his cheeks, splotchy and irregular.

“Tell me that again in the morning. Better yet – tell Alfred.”

Dick groaned, but allowed Bruce to pull him to his feet. He wavered slightly when Bruce released him to switch the TV off, so Bruce made sure to keep a grip on him as they maneuvered to the stairs. He would have to remember to call Dick out of school in the morning – and he might’ve just found the perfect excuse to skip out on that board meeting.

*     *     *

Bruce should not have been awake. With summer approaching and the sun rising earlier and earlier, dawn wasn’t far off, but Bruce still hadn’t slept a wink. There was no reason for it either – patrol had gone off without a hitch (and even ended earlier than usual, it had been a quiet night for once), no one was injured, and all his children currently in the city had decided to celebrate with a post-patrol movie night at the Manor. There were no especially concerning outstanding cases, and no recent Arkham breakouts (or any worries of one approaching).

The restless energy zinging beneath Bruce’s skin did not seem to care.

For now, he decided to give up, padding silently out of his bedroom. He glanced up and down the main hall of the family wing for a moment before deciding to start with the door closest to him, right across the hall. 

Damian was tucked under the covers, his breathing slow and even. Titus, curled at the foot of the bed, raised his head as Bruce slinked into the room. He brushed a few strands of hair off Damian’s forehead, smiling a little as the boy sighed in his sleep, a nearly imperceptible furrow between his brows smoothing out at the touch. A quick tousle of Titus’s ears, and Bruce was on his way.

In the next room over, Tim snored away quietly. Alfred had offered him a sleeping aid that night, as the bags beneath his eyes were becoming a concerningly dark color, and Tim had actually accepted. Clearly, it had worked. His half-open laptop sat precariously close to the edge of the bed, so Bruce snapped it closed and safely deposited it on Tim’s desk.

In Cass’s room, the lump under the blankets was suspiciously wide. It split into two lumps as Cass made an alarmed noise deep in her throat and sat up, staring at Bruce with wide eyes. She relaxed slightly at the sight of him. Steph did not move, an almost cartoonish snore leaving her lips.

“Everything okay?”

Bruce gave her a soft smile, stepping into the room fully to run a hand through her hair and make sure the blankets were pulled up sufficiently to the girls’ shoulders.

“Everything’s fine, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

Cass scrutinized him for a second before nodding, allowing him to fuss with the blankets a moment longer. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before pulling away, shutting the door quietly behind him.

At the end of the hall, Duke sprawled across his bedsheets, dead asleep. In a few short hours, he’d be waking up for the day, ready to take on his weekend patrol to keep Gotham safe. Bruce straightened out his blankets as well, before quietly taking the empty glass from Duke’s bedside table and filling it at the bathroom sink. He often slept with his mouth open, which left him with a horribly dry throat come morning.

Backtracking the way he came on the opposite side of the hall, Bruce skipped Jason’s door. As far as Bruce knew, Jason was enjoying his weekend off in Star City with Roy and the Queen’s. He’d already sent a photo of him and Lian in matching sunglasses, staring down the camera with serious looks. Roy had immediately sent Dick the bloopers, the two of them doubled over giggling and trying to steal the sunglasses off each other’s faces. 

Bruce cracked the door right next to his own, peeking inside. He expected to see Dick sprawled across his bed, sleeping in the oddest pose his body could comfortably manage. Instead, he found mussed bedsheets and an empty bed. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat as he immediately pulled his phone out of his sweatpants to check Dick’s tracker. His heart settled marginally when he saw that Dick was still in the Manor, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he saw Dick himself.

As Bruce navigated down the stairs, he pulled up Jason’s tracker just to be sure. His tracker was right where it was supposed to be at the rental house in Star City, his vitals steady and healthy. It seemed as though he were getting a good night’s sleep. Another vice around his ribcage eased slightly, allowing him to breathe a bit easier.

Bruce trailed through the Manor halls, following after the first sound he picked up. He found Dick moving lazily through the kitchen, picking through Alfred’s tea selection as a kettle slowly came to a boil on the stovetop. Padding along in nothing but socks, Bruce couldn’t do much to make his steps heavier in a courteous warning of his presence. Still, as always, Dick just seemed to know, glancing up at Bruce in the doorway with a half-hearted smile.

“Alfred know you’re in here?” Bruce tried to tease, though his tone fell flat as he felt his nervous system readjusting to seeing Dick safe.

Dick played along anyway. “I won’t tell if you won’t – you’re banned, too.”

“Fair enough.”

They lapsed into silence. Bruce came up to lean against the island across from Dick, who wordlessly pulled another mug out of the cupboard. When the kettle had just barely started to whistle, Dick snatched it off the burner to quiet the noise. He poured them both a steaming mug and let them steep in silence, adding a swirl of honey to Bruce’s and a few teaspoons of sugar to his own. Together they shuffled to the den, dropping onto the couch next to each other.

“Can’t sleep?” Dick finally asked once they were settled.

Bruce gave him a dry smile. It was answer enough. “You?”

Dick’s shoulders shifted minutely under the hoodie he was wearing – oversized enough that it had to be either Jason’s or Bruce’s. “The usual – nightmares and restless nights.” He let out a humorless laugh. “And on such a good night too – it’s so stupid.”

Bruce sighed, setting his half empty mug on the coffee table in front of him. “I’m sorry, chum.”

Dick shrugged, taking another gulp of his own before setting it down as well. “It is what it is.” He pulled one leg up into his chest and hugged it as he tipped sideways, resting his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “Just too jittery to sleep now. Hoped the tea would help, but I don’t think it is.”

“Give it some time,” Bruce said, lowering his voice into that soothing rumble that always made his Robins blink a little heavier.

He reached down to squeeze Dick’s knee, trying to offer some awkward amount of comfort. Though Dick’s lips stayed sealed shut, he made a yelp somewhere back in his throat. Dick’s leg kicked out from under Bruce’s hand, the leg he held to his chest jerking slightly as well.

Bruce immediately sat up straighter. “Injury?”

Dick waved him off, avoiding Bruce’s eyes to instead hide in Bruce’s shoulder. “No, no injury.” The tips of his ears were pink.

Ah. Bruce suppressed a smile. No matter how old Dick got, it seemed he would never outgrow his ticklishness. Not that he imagined Dick minded – he still remembered a giggling little boy, doing everything in his power to goad Bruce into playing Tickle Monster with him.

Actually, speaking of which…

“You know, I might have a friend who can help you out.”

Dick snorted, rubbing his forehead against Bruce’s soft t-shirt. “Gonna get me some sleep aids like Timmy? I think I’m good, Bruce.”

Bruce smirked. “Not quite.” He reached out and squeezed Dick’s knee again, more deliberately. This time, he didn’t let Dick shake him off. “You’re actually quite familiar with this friend.”

Dick made a few alarmed noises in his throat as he tried to extract his leg from Bruce’s ticklish grip. “Wait until everyone finds out that Batman is such a secret softie.”

Wordless permission granted, Bruce started putting together a plan of attack. He brought both his hands up to Dick’s stomach, clawing gently into the muscles. “You must be mistaken – there’s no Batman here. Only the Tickle Monster.”

Dick doubled over, giving into his giggles. “You’re so lame! I thought the Tickle Monster only went for kids up past their bedtimes?”

Bruce hummed, adding a few playful squeezes to Dick’s ribs before jumping up to skitter around his neck. “You’re still my kid, aren’t you? Besides, you always had the best giggles for him.”

Like right now, Dick’s giggles being hilariously squeaky and high pitched as he toppled backwards against the arm of the couch to try and escape Bruce’s fingers, his legs tumbling into Bruce’s lap. His cheeks flushed a healthy pink, clearly embarrassed – whether by the Tickle Monster teasing itself or the sounds leaving his lips, Bruce couldn’t be sure.

“Bruce – shit! – that fucking– it– fuck!”

“Sorry,” Bruce said, slipping under Dick’s arms the second he saw an opening. “Does that tickle?”

Dick tossed his head back, belly-laughter filling the room. “You ass!”

Bruce chuckled. “Maybe you ought to defend your tickle spots better. You know how determined the Tickle Monster gets.”

“I am 25 years old!”

“So?” Bruce scoffed, vibrating his fingers into the space between Dick’s underarms and ribs. “Last I checked, the Tickle Monster doesn’t discriminate. And you, young man, are certainly up past your bedtime.”

Dick arched his back with a snorting cackle. He tried to roll off the couch to escape, but Bruce caught him around the waist. He drew Dick into a mock hug, back to chest, and Dick was already shrieking before Bruce’s hands started up again. He knew what was coming.

“Wait, wait – Let’s talk about this!”

Bruce laughed, Dick’s head ducking out of the way when Bruce’s breath glanced off his ear in a way that was clearly too ticklish. There was no way he was stopping now, but he kept his hands still for a moment, letting Dick bargain.

“Bruce, come on, it’s childish!”

“No Bruce here – but Bruce did see you sneakily tickling Tim during the movie tonight. I think ‘childishness’ is a moot point.”

“I– I– We’ll wake up the others!”

“You know just as well as me how good the soundproofing is on those bedrooms, now.”

“Um– You– We–”

“Yes?”

“Bruce!” Dick’s tone turned whining.

Bruce chuckled. “Alright, alright.” 

He loosened his grip momentarily, acting like he was going to release Dick, until his shoulders dropped in clear disappointment. He tightened his grip again, one hand skittering up and down Dick’s ribs, the other squeezing at that sweet spot just below them on the other side. Dick burst into laughter, squirming and screeching in his arms.

“Did you really think I’d let you go that easily?”

“Bruce, no!”

“That’s right – no. You’re nowhere near tickled-out enough to sleep yet, after all.”

“Fuck you!”

Dick grabbed at the hand tickling just under his ribs with both of his own, trying to push it away despite being weakened by laughter. Still, Bruce let his arm go limp, allowing Dick’s meager strength to push it away from that hyper-ticklish little spot… only to slide down his ribs on the other side and latch onto the matching spot there. Dick screeched again, switching to try and push that hand away while Bruce’s newly free hand started skittering around his ribs. They repeated this a few times, Dick spluttering curses between his cackling and wheezing.

“You’re so mean!”

Bruce shrugged, giving Dick a brief reprieve by tickling lightly over his stomach. “Never said the Tickle Monster was nice.”

“I hate you.” The sentiment was clearly not serious, said lightly and interspersed with giggles. Still, Bruce thought it warranted some punishment.

Without warning, Bruce released Dick from the ticklish hug, his hands shooting down to squeeze at Dick’s thighs. Dick burst immediately into hysterics, not even being able to talk through his laughter. Bruce had to dodge flying knees and feet more than once just to save himself from a broken nose. He couldn’t help but laugh along with Dick, whatever heaviness he’d been carrying in his chest easing at the sight of his eldest’s dimples and wide, bright smile. But eventually, Dick started slapping his palm against the couch cushions, clearly tapping out, and Bruce had no choice but to slow his fingers.

Dick curled himself into a protective little ball, rubbing away at his ticklish spots as if to rid himself of the ghosts of Bruce’s fingers. Eventually, he peeked an eye open to peer up at Bruce. His blush, which had calmed down along with the force of his laughter, flushed a healthy pink across his cheeks and ears once more and he quickly shut his eyes again, turning his face away.

“Ugh, B, you’re such a sap.”

It was then that Bruce noticed the gentle, fond smile gracing his own face. He could practically feel the way that the harsh lines around his eyes and across his face had softened. He didn’t make this sort of expression often, but it always seemed to make his kids bashful when he did.

He supposed he understood. Whenever Alfred dropped all the propriety and looked at Bruce with proud eyes and a soft smile, Bruce couldn’t help but look away himself.

“Watch it,” Bruce said, following Dick’s lead in pulling their sarcastic walls back up instead of sitting in that uncomfortable vulnerability. “I can call the Tickle Monster back, there’s always time for round two.”

Dick laughed, this time without being forced, and then groaned and clutched at his stomach. “My abs hurt. You’re such a jerk.”

Bruce chuckled, brushing Dick’s mess of hair away from his forehead. “Do you think you could sleep now?”

Dick hummed, loosening a little from his protective ball. “I think I’m gonna sleep right here on the couch, right now.”

Bruce turned his hair pets into a playful ruffle, jostling Dick’s head enough to make him groan and glare up at Bruce.

“Neither of us will be sleeping on the couch. As comfortable as it is now, your back will thank me in the morning.”

Dick groaned again, but went along when Bruce hauled him to his feet. Tea forgotten and long cold on the coffee table, they left it to deal with tomorrow, leaning on each other as they made their way up the stairs. Dick made for his own room, but Bruce stopped him before he could completely detach, allowing a bit of that vulnerability to come back as he pressed a kiss to Dick’s messy hair.

“Sleep well, son.”

“Yeah,” Dick mumbled, ears going pink yet again. Maybe Bruce needed to try being more affectionate with his children. “You too, Dad.”

Dick slipped into his room before Bruce could react, leaving him blinking in the hallway with a dumbfounded expression. His face did that melting thing again, as did his chest, and Bruce quickly sequestered himself in his own room to fully build his own walls back up.

It always came down to the same things with Bruce. Jason was reckless, dangerous, out of control and, as always, it was Bruce’s responsibility to curb, calm, and corral him. Bruce’s responsibility to rehabilitate him, as if Jason needed to be rehabilitated at all. He’d dropped the crime lord thing almost as soon as his plan for Bruce to kill the Joker blew up in his face (literally), and it wasn’t like the bodies he’d been dropping since were without merit. No one would miss those scum – abusers, pedophiles, serial murderers. Batman needed to learn that not everyone was capable of being saved.

“Are you sure?” Robin asked, creeping up to crouch beside him on the ledge. “Agent A misses you.”

The we miss you went unsaid. Hood knew he’d dropped the ball with his brothers since that dinner. Avoiding that Batcave (and the Manor) meant avoiding them by extension, since he was too wary of Bruce stalking their lines of communication to give them directions to any of his safehouses. Not to mention the fact that he moved between them so frequently that it would be difficult for them to keep up with where he was staying, anyways. He’d just started becoming family to Tim, and he almost immediately left the kid high and dry. Some big brother he was.

“Tell him I’ll try to come by soon.”

Robin hummed noncommittally, clearly seeing through Hood’s attempt to placate him. This time, Hood did sigh, the helmet translating it into static, and reached over to ruffle Robin’s hair. He resisted the urge to dig his fingers into one of the softer joints of Robin’s armor – his targets would absolutely hear that squeaking laughter.

“Tell you what, kid – I could use some help, here. Wanna help me take this group down?”

Robin perked up, sending a grin in his direction.

“Just make sure to leave one awake – we need to know where their boss is.”

“You got it.”

“On three. One, two–”

*     *     *

Nightwing didn’t even try to be stealthy as he landed behind the Red Hood, practically skipping across the rooftop to plop himself on the edge next to him. Hood didn’t spare him a glance, keeping his gaze firmly locked on the clouds above, as if he could see beyond them to the stars above. Though Gotham was his home, he couldn’t help but feel a bit homesick for the shine of the stars. He’d seen so many when he was with Talia and the LoA, but between Gotham’s constantly shit weather and all the light pollution, he hadn’t seen a single one since he returned.

“If you’re here about dinner,” Hood said, “I already told the little bird ‘no.’”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nightwing shrug. “Figured. I’m not going to try and convince you.”

“Really?” He said flatly.

In his peripheral, he saw Nightwing turn to stare at him. Hood kept his gaze forward. He’d taken his helmet off for a breath of fresh air, and having little more than a domino mask to protect his expressions made him feel far too exposed at the moment. At least the profile view added some sort of barrier to reading him.

“When I was close to your age, I didn’t exactly want to be around B most of the time either. There was a reason I moved out, and there was a reason I always made myself so busy with the Titans.”

Hood let out a long breath. “You’re around a lot more now than you used to be”

Nightwing finally turned away, looking down at his hands clasped between his knees. “It’s one of my biggest regrets, letting my shit relationship with B affect my relationship with you. When I did come by, it was mostly to see you – steal you away, teach you to be Robin, sneak out for train-hopping.”

Hood didn’t know what to say. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“With Robin, it still took me a while to get over myself, but I didn’t want to make the same mistakes twice. I overcompensated for a while before finding my balance.” He chuckled. “It drove Robin crazy sometimes. I was just so scared to lose another brother, especially without him knowing how much I cared about him. Me and B… we came to an understanding – at least, for the most part – over time, with me being around so often again.”

Guilt churned deep in Hood’s stomach. “Nightwing–”

Nightwing shook his head. “I’m not saying you have to come around. Honestly, stay away for as long as you need. Sometimes I still can’t even stand to be around him, no matter how much we’ve grown or how much I care about him. That’s probably why it hurts so much.” Nightwing turned to stare at him again, and this time Hood couldn’t keep himself from looking in Nightwing’s direction. “But don’t lock us out too just because B can’t get his righteous head out of his ass.”

Don’t make my mistakes, Hood heard underneath.

“Yeah,” was all Hood could manage.

They sat in silence for a bit longer before Hood heard the tell-tale buzz of a distant comm line. Nightwing raised his hand to his ear, likely for Hood’s benefit because Hood knew that’s not how the Bat-comms operated, and said, “I’m on my way.”

“Duty calls?”

Nightwing shot him a strained grin. “When doesn’t it?” His smile became a bit more natural as he scrubbed his hand over Hood’s head, making his helmet-hair even worse. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Red Hood didn’t have a chance to reply as Nightwing dove off the building, shooting out his grapnel line halfway through his fall. He waited until Nightwing disappeared in the smog before shoving his helmet back on. The Bats could handle the rest of the city, but Crime Alley wasn’t going to protect itself.

*     *     *

Jason got himself a phone.

He had plenty of phones, honestly – enough burners to cover all his bases and then some, and he frequently dumped and replaced them. This phone though, it was his first personal phone since he came back. He made sure to pass it off to Barbara first, get it souped up with all the Bat-grade protections it could possibly need, and with her sincere promise that Bruce himself wouldn’t have any way into the device despite that.

When she returned it, she’d done more than just upgrade his security. Where his contacts before had been a blank slate, there was now a neat list of five names. He flipped through them, changing four of the contact names to be much less formal. Opening the final contact, he hovered his thumb over the “Delete” button for several long minutes before letting out a slew of swears and closing out of the contacts app, leaving that final contact untouched.

He shot off quick texts to Dick and Tim, nothing more than a “Hey, it’s Jason.” and got a set of responses back almost immediately. Dick was a spam-texter, it seemed, cheering through his messages and telling Jason it was “about damn time” he got a phone. Tim sent him only two messages in reply. A brief “ew” and a follow-up of “you text with proper grammar??”

From that day on, there was not a single moment where Jason was free of his brothers. Dick started sending him dozens of TikToks a day (where he found the time to scroll TikTok so much in-between his day job and the vigilantism, Jason had no idea), practically forcing Jason to download the app just to keep up, as much as he despised social media. He was loathe to admit it, but every once in a while, some of the videos Dick sent him were actually kind of funny. 

Tim, on the other hand, seemed to get a kick out of sending Jason memes that he either wasn’t alive to see come about, or he was stuck with the League at the time with no knowledge of the current popular culture. He communicated almost exclusively through them, and Jason knew it was intentional to get under his nerves. It felt like he was trying to translate hieroglyphics at times, and whenever he asked Dick or Barbara for help, they just laughed at him.

And then, a few weeks in, the invites started coming through. 

A new coffee shop just opened up in the Bowery, you in? Jason was never getting coffee with Tim again after that, because holy shit, was his order horrific. 

There’s this adult arcade downtown — you in? Jason knew that they were the heirs to a billionaire, but he still couldn’t fathom the amount of money Dick spent on goddamn claw games. And somehow, he won every time. Jason didn’t even know where to put all the plushies Dick forced on him after that trip. 

Bowling?? Steph said this place is actually only marginally sketchy. Jason and his brothers were now banned from the bowling alley.

Okay so bowling was a bust — roller-skating? Jason and Tim were now banned from the skating rink. Dick somehow got off scott-free. Jason blamed the puppy-dog eyes.

*     *     *

Even once he and Bruce were on speaking terms again, the invites didn’t stop – which was how Jason found himself making the drive to Bludhaven one evening. Dick decided that they were due for a movie night, and since Jason was still avoiding the Manor itself, he’d decided that the next best place would be his own apartment.

They ordered some absolute monstrosities from the nearby pizza joint (Dick’s pineapple and andouille pizza was always horrifying, but at least Jason had been prepared for it – Tim’s Canadian bacon pizza with onions and artichoke hearts, Jason never wanted to see again), and Dick left the two of them to pick the movie while he went to pick up the pizza.

Of course, the little snot was nothing if not an absolute nerd, and most of his suggestions were weird sci-fi shit. As if they didn’t get enough of that with their gallery of doctorate-wielding Rogues and their insane fucking inventions. Then again – Jason had the perfect solution to get what he wanted out of the kid.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Tim shrieked in-between frantice giggling, trying to pry Jason’s hands off his sides.

Jason hummed. “Dick would be very disappointed in you when he got back if you did.”

Tim managed to twist out of his grip, throwing himself across the rug to create distance between them. “What’s wrong with Interstellar anyways?”

Jason wrinkled his nose. “Don’t we deal with enough dimension-travel and time-travel shit enough in our night jobs?” He launched himself forward after Tim, ignoring the kid’s squeals as he dragged him close again. “Besides, letting you win the movie pick means I don’t get to do this.”

Jason wasted no time on this second attack, immediately digging his fingers into Tim’s highest ribs. Tim almost choked on his laughter, shrieking out a few curse words, and Jason had little doubt that Dick would have a noise complaint by the end of the night. Whatever – it wasn’t like it was Jason’s problem. No, the only thing Jason needed to worry about right now was what method made Tim laugh the hardest. Fingernails or fingertips? Wiggling or squeezing? Vibrating fingers or fast skittering? He just couldn’t decide.

Tim was practically in tears by the time he finally conceded to Jason’s movie choice, having laughed himself nearly hoarse. Just in time, too, because Dick just texted their group chat (also new – and the incessant spam of notifications that often burst from it annoyed Jason to no end) that he was on the way up.

“Just you wait,” Tim said, chest heaving and face cherry-red. “I’m gonna sic Dick on you, and then you’ll be sorry.”

Jason snorted, making himself comfortable on Dick’s lumpy-ass sofa. “Good luck with that kid. I already told you both – the Pit took care of that. I’m immune.” He gave a playfully malicious grin. “Leaves me with plenty of chances to torture you, though, don’t worry.”

The front door to the apartment banged open. “Hey – does anyone know why my neighbor just cussed me out in the hallway? I swear, he’s never looked that– Timmy? What the hell happened?”

Jason laughed.

*     *     *

Bruce was out of town for a few days – an actual business trip this time, no JL covers – and he took Alfred with him. Which meant that someone needed to cover Gotham for the week. Which meant that Dick was in town for an extended period of time. All of this also meant that Dick and Tim were left in the Manor unsupervised with no Alfred to keep them from burning down the kitchen.

That’s how Jason found himself being guilt-tripped into spending the week at the Manor with them, if only to ensure they didn’t survive solely off of cereal, microwave meals, and caffeine. Dick, of course, was thrilled at their “Brother Sleepover,” and promptly spent the week kicking their ass at Mario Kart. Not even Tim, in all his nerdy, geeky glory could beat him, and death had done Jason no favors with his own virtual racing skills.

Overall, despite the constant skin-crawling feelings Jason had for half the week, his stay at the Manor didn’t go horribly. Plus, it was kind of nice cooking for more than just one person. He might have to establish a more permanent safehouse so he could have his brothers (and Barbie – he’d have to make sure the elevator was actually working in whatever building he chose) over for dinner. Or maybe he’d finally try coming to another family dinner, just for the excuse of helping Alfred cook.

Either way, by the end of the week, Dick was adamant that it was about time for another brothers’ movie night. Jason rolled his eyes and put up the expected complaints (it was a familiar song and dance now – even if he didn’t mean it), but still found himself at the grocery store while Dick picked Tim up from school, picking out ingredients to make them a special dinner for the last night of their “Brother Sleepover.” He was shoving everything into the kitchen when Dick and Tim got home, Tim groaning as he entered the kitchen for a snack.

“Jason – your food is amazing and all, but can we please just get takeout tonight?”

Jason turned around, his eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“We can just order pizza instead – I won’t even get anything weird on it!”

“You’d rather have greasy takeout pizza than a home-cooked meal?” Jason crossed his arms and leaned back against the kitchen island. “You’d give Alfred a heart-attack.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never begged Alfred for takeout instead of something from home.”

Jason pursed his lips. He couldn’t exactly argue that – they all had at some point. Still, “I already got the shit, we’re eating here.”

Jason pinpointed the exact moment when Tim went from normal vigilante teenager to horribly obnoxious piece of shit. He narrowed his eyes for a moment before his expression turned to an exaggerated pout. He slumped his shoulders and gazed up at Jason with his little wounded-baby-bird eyes. 

“Come on, Jay, please? We can make it another night – can’t we have pizza?”

Jason huffed and pushed himself away from the counter. “Alright you little shit – get over here.”

He made a swipe for Tim, who shrieked and immediately launched himself out of reach when Jason’s fingers grazed his ribs. When he looked up at Jason this time, gone was the faux-pout. Instead, his eyes were wide with surprise and anticipation, the twitch of his mouth almost giddy as he eyed Jason’s hands warily. Jason grinned and took a heavy step forward, drawing out the game. Then, suddenly, Tim’s eyes narrowed and his jaw set. Without warning, he bolted from the kitchen.

“Wha– get back here! Face your sentence like a man, TimTam!”

Jason raced after him, winding through the labyrinthian halls of the Manor. As they got closer to the front side of the mansion, Tim started shouting.

“Dick! Dick, help me!”

Jason’s jaw dropped. “You fucking– running to Dick for help, as if you don’t deserve this!”

“Dick, he’s doing it again!”

As they approached the den, Jason put on a burst of speed. Unfortunately, it seemed as though Tim was holding back as well, breaking into a dead sprint to reach the den first. The two of them crashed through the entryway, knocking down a whole stack of pillows and blankets that someone had piled by the door. Dick stood in the middle of the room, clearly having been rearranging furniture for the “ideal movie night positioning,” looking absolutely flabbergasted.

Tim, still with that young Robin springiness, was able to extricate himself from the avalanche of comfy items easily. He bounced out of the pile and darted behind Dick, using him as a human shield. Jason, while highly trained, was now all bulky muscle instead of flexible springiness, and had a harder time wading out of the mess.

“What on earth is going on, here?” Dick asked, gaze darting between Jason and Tim behind his back.

“He’s trying to kill me!”

Jason scoffed. “Please – you were being a little shit, you can’t tell me you didn’t deserve it.”

Tim peeked around Dick’s torso to stick his tongue out at Jason, before ducking back behind Dick as Jason finally got his foot free of the last blanket and began to approach.

Dick had a look on his face, that constipated one he made when he wanted to laugh but was still trying to take them seriously for the sake of their pride. “And how, exactly, was Jason going to kill you?” Dick tilted slightly to the side to look at Tim, exposing him to Jason’s sight.

The apples of Tim’s cheeks went pink as he scowled at them both. “Tickle me,” he mumbled.

Jason clicked his tongue, advancing on them both. “You heard the kid – he said to tickle him, let’s get to it Goldie.”

Dick broke, laughing as Tim yelped and ducked fully behind him again. He laughed even harder as Jason tried to reach around him and snatch Tim, doing nothing to help.

“You know, Jay – you’ve turned into quite the tickle monster over the past few months.”

Jason grunted, barely paying attention. “Yeah? He’s getting the full little brother experience, I remember what you were like when I was a kid.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed. Before Jason had even fully processed the change in expression, his hackles had raised. He backed out of Dick’s space quickly, eyeing him with suspicion. Tim perked up, picking up on the change in vibes. Jason was no longer the most dominant personality in the room. 

Dick’s mouth twisted into a smirk. One that Jason remembered all too well. “Maybe a little payback is in order, Little Wing. What do you think?

Jason crossed his arms, raising to his full height to try and cut a more intimidating figure. Dick’s eyes twinkled, and he could practically imagine Dick cooing at the posturing inside his own head.

“I’ve already told you both, the Pit got rid of all that.”

Dick looked him up and down. “Really? Why are you all the way over there, then?”

“Muscle memory.”

“Right, right. You know, you never have let us prove that theory of yours.”

Jason widened his stance as subtly as he could, preparing to run. “What would be the point of that?”

Dick bared his teeth, a facsimile of a friendly smile. Jason turned tail to bolt, but a body suddenly latched onto his back. Knocked off balance, Jason found himself tumbling face-first into the mountain of pillows and blankets. Seriously – why had Dick brought so many? He tossed the body off his back, hearing Tim’s laughter filled oof as he got swallowed by the plush pile as well. He barely managed to roll over in time to catch Dick’s hands as he dove towards Jason’s prone form.

“I think someone’s been lying,” Dick sing-songed, trying to twist his hands out of Jason’s grip

“I think you’re full of shit – let me up, Dick.”

Dick pulled out his most innocent expression. “But Little Wing – you’re the one holding onto me.”

“Yeah because you’re going to– be a jerk!”

Dick laughed, his own grip on Jason’s hands flexing. “Yeah? How am I gonna be a jerk?”

“I’m not falling for that.”

Dick shrugged. “Doesn’t change anything.”

Tim popped up from the bedding, hair sticking every which way from being mussed against the fabrics. “You do kinda deserve it.”

“Shut your trap, snotface.”

Tim wrinkled his nose. “Rude.”

Jason pursed his lips, running through every escape plan in his mind. He was trapped in this comfy avalanche, sinking deeper with every struggle – even if Dick wasn’t hovering overtop him, it would take him way too long to crawl his way out. The second he let go of Dick’s hands to try and get away, he was a goner – Dick knew all his worst spots, and exactly how to target them. Dick was like a shark who smelled blood, there was almost no getting out of this now.

Unless he took Dick down first.

Jason tossed Dick’s hands to the sides as hard as he could. He heard Tim yelp and collapse back into the blankets to avoid a flying limb, but he figured the kid was fine – Robins had quick reflexes. Before Dick could recover, Jason dove his own hands toward Dick’s knees and thighs, squeezing away the moment he found muscle. Dick cried out, immediately bursting into cackles. After a few seconds, he wavered and collapsed sideways into the blanket pile next to Jason.

“Fucking jerk!”

Jason grinned. “Don’t forget Dickie – I’m bigger than you now.”

Despite laughing his head off and failing to squirm away from Jason’s hands, Dick still had that devious twinkle in his eyes. He fought to speak through his laughter, “You may be bigger, but we have numbers.”

“We–?”

For the second time in as many minutes, a small body barrelled into Jason’s back. Overbalancing, Jason was forced to take one hand off of Dick and plant it into the blankets to compensate for the new weight.

“I still don’t get why you had to throw me at him like a ragdoll the first time,” Tim piped up from behind him.

Dick twisted and contorted in ways only he could and suddenly Jason found himself swallowed by the blankets and cushions once more. Tim yelped and barely scrambled off in time to avoid getting crushed.

“You threw him?” Jason asked incredulously.

Dick shrugged. “Enrichment for baby birds. They love flying.”

Tim popped back up, his hair even worse than before. “That’s fair.”

While Jason was distracted by the absolute robin’s nest on Tim’s head, Dick lunged again. They entered into a grapple, one that Jason quickly lost at the unexpected flutter of Tim’s fingers in the crook of his neck. He yelped at an embarrassing pitch as one hand darted up to snatch the offending fingers.

“You are still ticklish!” Dick crowed.

“Liar!” Tim shouted at the same time.

Dick took full advantage of the moment of distraction, grabbing onto the wrist of Jason’s raised hand with both of his and pinning it in the pile of fluff. His torso wound up draped diagonally over Jason’s chest to do it, almost knocking the wind out of him.

“Get him!”

Small, precise fingers slipped under Jason’s leather jacket, scribbling against the hoodie underneath. It was thick enough to provide protection from the hesitant touch, but Jason still couldn’t stop the instinctive flinch from fingers just existing that close to his underarms.

“Fuck you!” He yelled, struggling under Dick’s weight. He had Jason’s arm well-pinned, he had far better leverage and the angle was awkward from the shifting of the blankets. Jason reached to pry the fingers away with his free arm, but Dick’s body blocked his arm from being able to reach.

“Harder, Timmy! He’s got layers–”

“I’m not fucking Shrek–”

“Are you sure?” Tim, that little snot.

“You’re such a fucking– No!”

Two hands delivered a series of nibbling pinches up and down Jason’s exposed side and ribs, the sensation cutting through his hoodie like it was nothing. He tossed his head back with laughter, hating how bubbly it sounded. His legs lurched up, bending at the knees.

“Wow,” Tim said over his laughter. “I didn’t know you could laugh and it actually sound happy.”

Dick chuckled. “You should’ve heard him when he was younger – all shrieky and giggly. I’m glad he didn’t grow out of it.”

“I’m right here, assholes!”

Dick clicked his tongue. “That you are, Jay. Are we not paying enough attention to you? Here, I’ll help.”

“Dick, no!”

Obviously, Dick did not listen. With Jason already growing weaker from the laughter and tickling, Dick could easily keep him pinned with just one hand. With his newly freed fingers, he reached down and clawed into Jason’s stomach. Jason shrieked, his legs lurching up again as he instinctively tried to curl around the weak point and was halted by Dick being in the way.

“Wow,” Tim said. “Dick really wasn’t joking, you are freakishly ticklish.”

Jason tried to bare his teeth. With how wide his smile was, he wasn’t sure the threat came across. “Not as ticklish as you.”

Tim only smirked at him. “Well, I’m not the one pinned down, am I?”

Little shit. Jason was absolutely going to get him later. And Dick, too.

“Might as well get revenge while I can, right?” Tim continued. “What’s that thing you like to do to me? Rib counting?”

Dick laughed again, leaning his weight more heavily on Jason’s torso. He took his own tickling fingers away, using that hand to try and shove Jason’s legs down instead.

“Diabolical, Baby Bird. Count away, I’ll try to keep our little pill-bug here from messing you up.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Tim’s voice was the epitome of innocence. “If he messes me up, it just means I have to start over again. I mean, that’s what you taught me, right, Jay?”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

Tim hummed. “Yeah, it pays to be thorough.”

Jason’s ribs were far from his most ticklish spot, but when Tim’s hands slipped underneath his hoodie, leaving him only with a threadbare t-shirt as his last layer of defense, Jason thought he was going to die. He always knew he was ticklish as all hell, but going without the feeling for so long, every sensation felt electric. He couldn’t even keep track of his own laughter, and he tried his damndest to tune out Tim’s count because he was not about to let his baby brother get the upper hand in teasing, too. 

The most infuriating part? The fact that he couldn’t stop the warm, melty feeling in his chest, hearing Tim giggle along or seeing Dick beaming down at him. He was the goddamned Red Hood. He should not be having this much fun in a one-sided tickle fight with his brothers – especially not on the losing side.

Jason’s legs jumped up again, and this time Jason put a little more control into it. He tried to ram his knees into Dick’s side – jostle him, knock him off Jason’s torso, or hell, even just annoy him. Jason didn’t care, so long as he landed a hit. Unfortunately, Dick’s free hand was still poised to ward off any attacks, shoving his legs away every time they got too close. When he finally slipped a knee past Dick’s defenses, he called out an affronted “hey” and reached out to grab the joint.

The squawking little yip that Jason let out as the joint was squeezed may have been the most embarrassing noise that he’d ever made in his life. Both Dick and Tim tumbled into laughter, pausing their attack.

“Let me go,” Jason demanded as he regained his breath. His voice didn’t quite carry the heat he had been looking for.

Dick turned to give him that creepy stare-down that made it feel like he was tearing Jason’s soul open to look inside. Satisfied with whatever he found, his mouth twisted back into his patented “tickle monster” smirk.

“I don’t think so, Little Wing. I mean, a few rounds of rib counting is hardly revenge.”

Jason started squirming and kicking, making a show out of trying to get away despite knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere. Dick gave him a few squeezes to the kneecap for the trouble, sending Jason into mortifying titters. 

“Where’s his tickle spot?” Tim asked eagerly, raising up on his knees to scan over Jason’s torso. “That’ll show him.”

Dick pressed his lips together on a smile. Apparently, laughing at Jason was fair game, but laughing at the adorable menace that was Tim Drake was not allowed.

“Dick—“

“I think it’s cheating to tell, Timmy.” Dick cut off Jason’s protest before he could even get started. Jason nearly let out a sigh of relief, but Dick wasn’t done. “I think you’re just gonna have to keep going until you find it.”

“What—“

Tim let out an evil laugh, far more menacing than any 15 year old had the right to be — let alone one that looked so much like a wet cat.

Too quickly for Jason to take advantage of, Dick raised off his body and slid into place behind his head. Jason tried to go for Tim with his newfound reach, but Dick snatched his wrist out of the air and easily pinned it down. After a brief struggle, Jason gave up and just laid there, staring at the ceiling.

“I hate you both.”

“Sure you do, Jay.”

Tim waddled up to Jason, wading through the blankets and pillows surrounding them on his knees. He hovered over Jason for a moment, uncertainty flashing through his eyes.

Aw, hell.

“Well, Timbo? Do your worst. I know you won’t find it.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, the uncertainty vanishing as Tim was confronted with a competition.

“Oh, yeah? And what if I do?”

Jason hummed, pretending to consider. “You might earn yourself a pizza.”

Tim lit up like a Christmas tree. His hands shot out to Jason’s ribs, provoking that bubbly laughter once more.

“Well, we already know it’s not here.”

“So why are you tickling there?!”

Dick laughed at them.

Tim stuck his tongue out at him. “‘Cause it’s funny.”

But he did move his hands, crawling them up into Jason’s armpits like two devious little spiders. Jason jolted, snorts intermingling with his laughter.

“Get out!”

Tim perked up. “Did I find it?”

“Sorry, Baby Bird,” Dick said. “Not just yet.”

Tim frowned and furrowed his brow — his thinking face looked uncannily like Bruce’s — and scanned Jason’s torso. His hands flitted down to Jason’s stomach and sides, his laughter dying down the slightest bit but thankfully not at giggles quite yet. The Red Hood did not giggle.

“Dick got you here, so it’s not here.”

Jason’s legs bounced up as he instinctively tried to curl around the hands. Tim took a page out of Dick’s book, squeezing Jason’s kneecap until it jumped out of his grasp.

“Or here, but you sound ridiculous right now.”

Jason tried to growl through his laughter, but Tim wasn’t exactly wrong. Jumping between the light laughter from his stomach and the high pitched tittering from his knees, Jason was making an absolute fool of himself. His only saving grace was that Bruce wasn’t home to witness it. He’d never live that down.

Tim gave Jason a break, lifting his hands to run them through his messy hair. “Am I completely off track, is it your feet or something?”

“Not. Telling.” 

Tim glared at Jason for a moment before flicking his eyes up to Dick’s, giving him that puppy-gaze. Jason looked up too, trying to burn holes through Dick’s skull with his eyes. Dick smirked, his eyes darting down to Jason’s torso and back up to Tim’s face again. Tim got that constipated look again, his own eyes darting back down to Jason’s abdomen.

“But—?”

Then Tim made The Face. The same face he made when he’d solved a tough case that he’d been working for a while. The wide eyes, the slightly parted lips, as if he was surprised at his own success, the relaxing of his ever-scrunched-up eyebrows. A jolt of giddy panic sparked up Jason’s chest.

“You already lost,” he said quickly. “You asked Dick for help. You cheated.”

Tim met his eyes. “Well then, I guess I have nothing else to lose.”

Giving Jason no time to prepare, Tim started squeezing away at Jason’s hips. It wasn’t as bad as his memories of Bruce or Dick attacking him, but they’d had the benefit of practice. A lot of practice. As it was, it still tickled like hell. Jason’s mind went blank as he practically screamed out cackles. He tried to curl himself into a ball again, and this time, his brothers let him. Dick released his arms and Tim let his legs shoot up, and Jason curled himself into the tightest ball that he could around all the bulky muscle he had now.

That didn’t mean Tim had stopped tickling though. No, even as Jason rolled onto his side in a feeble defense, Tim just targeted both hands on the hip that was still accessible.

“Aw, little pill-bug Jay is alive and well,” Dick cooed.

I’ll kill you here and now, Jason wanted to say. Unfortunately, all his breath was currently being directed to support his laughter. Thankfully, Dick only let Tim go on for a couple more minutes before pulling him back, leaving Jason to heave in breaths as he recovered.

“Next time,” Dick stage-whispered. “I’ll show you how ticklish his back is.”

“Next time,” Jason grumbled. “I’ll cut off your damn hands.”

Tim snorted. Dick patted him on the back. 

“Sure you will, buddy.”

“So,” Tim said, drawing out the word, “since you’re so tired from that and all – maybe you wanna get pizza instead of cooking?”

Jason took a deep breath before heaving himself up to a sitting position, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Nope.”

Tim groaned as well, flopping back into the mess they made of Dick’s pile of bedding.

Shaking off the last of the ghost tickles, Jason gave Dick a heated glare as he pushed himself to his feet. Dick blinked back innocently. His brothers were such goddamned liars.

“I already bought the ingredients,” Jason said. “I’m cooking and you’re going to like it.”

Tim levelled him with a challenging look. “And what if I don’t.”

“Then you’ll suck it up and eat it anyway.”

Jason tromped out of the room, heading back toward the kitchen. Dick and Tim could handle the den setup without him – they were much pickier about blanket nests than he was. Where Jason would just slap together a blanket fort with some kitchen chairs and sheets, Tim preferred to engineer a structurally sound blanket castle when he had the chance. Leaving Tim with free reign of the den furniture and half the Manor’s worth of bedding to accomplish this task gave Jason more than enough time to finish up dinner with the prep he’d done earlier that day.

Seeing Tim’s face light up as Jason personally delivered his monstrosity of a pizza order, made from scratch, almost made the whole meaningless argument that led to his torture worth it. 

Almost.

Tim hissed and tried to bite when he felt something get shoved over his nose, but it was a cloth, and a drugged one at that.  Great, now things were getting blurry. Didn't stop him from thrashing and snarling like a pissed raccoon though. 

Then he heard a gunshot, and suddenly he was released. Tim yelped and gasped as he collapsed, his vision not getting any better. Vaguely, he heard the noises of someone getting beaten up. Screw that, the sound of multiple people getting beat up. 

It was hard to see anything at all, not just because of his downed senses but because Gotham was seeped in winter, and another blizzard was clearly on its way. 

The last curse was cut off, and there was a snarl as several people were good-to-honest thrown inside through the window of some warehouse nearby, and then, Tim saw him. 

Red Hood's helmet glinted red above. Jason apparently had his own patrol route near here.

Things were going dark, and Tim was only coherent enough to hear RH curse and mutter something about 'reckless little birds outta the nest' and to think 'I'm screwed' before he felt himself being scooped up and everything went black.

~~~

Tim woke slowly, as if surfacing from the bottom of a too-deep lake.

He knew a few things immediately: he was warm, someone had taken his domino, boots, and outer armor off, and he was still wearing his suit, but without the armor. The world was a hazy blur beyond the edge of his eyelashes, and his mouth tasted like chemical residue and regret.

Something soft—a blanket? Jacket?—was tucked around his shoulders. The couch he was on creaked faintly as he shifted. Dim lighting, the low hum of wind outside, the faint crackle of an old space heater, and the ceiling with water stains. The unmistakable smell of noodles and old gun oil. He was on a couch—lumpy, old, soft, and probably stolen from a back alley.

Definitely not the Batcave.

He opened his eyes fully.

"So, you're finally awake, little one."

Tim sat up real fast. Red Hood was across from him, helmet off and discarded on a crate beside him, sitting in a battered folding chair like he’d been parked there for a while. Jason’s boots were muddy, and his arms were crossed over his chest, resting like he wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or just tired.

Jason didn’t say anything at first. Just watched as Tim blinked himself back into the world.

“You okay?” he finally asked, voice low.

Tim swallowed. “Where- where are we?”

“Safehouse,” Jason said simply. “Storm came in hard. You were halfway to hypothermic and full-on drugged. I wasn’t about to try to make it to the Cave when soon I wouldn't be able to see a hand in front of my face."

“Oh,” Tim murmured. “Thanks.”

Jason shrugged, like it didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t maybe saved the life he almost ended once.

They lapsed into silence. The kind that filled too much space.

Tim sat up slowly. His muscles ached. His head pounded. But it wasn’t the physical discomfort that unsettled him—it was Jason. Sitting there. Watching him.

Alive. Still unpredictable. Still Red Hood.

Tim forced himself to breathe normally. Jason wasn't angry or on the warpath anymore. Hell, he had the Bat symbol on his suit. It was fine. They were fine. His brother wasn't gonna Pit Rage from the aether. It was fine. It was fine. 

Jason tipped his head and abruptly stood up, which had Tim flinching. The older boy's eyes sharpened, but he didn't show any other reaction. He just disappeared into another room and came back with two bowls of noodles. 

"Alfred's recipe," He said, shoving one bowl into Tim's hands, "Called him and asked whether it was okay to make it or if I should stick with soup. He said his noodles were fine so long as they weren't too cold or hard. Said something about you not eating enough and having sensory issues."

"Y-yeah." Tim managed to mumble. "Just autism, I guess. Bruce found out I had it."

Jason frowned at the fact that it was Bruce instead of Tim's parents, but didn't say anything. Just ruffled Tim's hair (ignoring how the younger Robin tensed up) and went to get his own noodles.

They ate in silence, though at one point Jason reached over and gently tapped Tim's shoulder to make him slow down.

"Stop shoveling it down so fast, kid. You're gonna make yourself sick, and then Alfred and Dad are gonna be on my back."

Eventually, Tim finished and got up unsteadily, trying to make for the door. Instantly, Jason was up and had him by the scruff. 

"Nope," He snapped, eyes narrowing at the way Tim froze. "I already called Bruce, and he knows you're here. Said to wait it out. No little birds leaving the nest in a snowstorm."

"But-" Tim began, but Jason cut him off.  "I said no. You're not going out in this weather, little brother."

There was a pause. A long, heavy one. Jason seemed to realize that this was the first time he'd called Tim his brother out loud to his face. 

Tim didn't know what to think. 

Then he was suddenly tugged over back to the couch and gently shoved down. 

"Batdad's orders, little bird," Jason muttered, raking his fingers over Tim's scalp before letting his hand drop. "He said over the phone, and I quote, 'Don't let Tim go out in the snow, no matter what he says. Do not let him outside until the sky is clear. ' He said that. Honest."

---------

The storm outside howled against the cracked windows. Tim shifted beneath the blanket, still curled up awkwardly on the couch like a cat that didn't know where to hide.

Jason was sprawled in the folding chair across from him, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, flipping through something on a beat-up burner phone, but Tim noticed him snatching a glance every now and then.

Tim’s eyes flicked toward the door again.

Jason noticed.

“Don’t even think about it,” he muttered, not looking up.

“I wasn’t,” Tim lied, curling his legs up beneath himself.

Jason gave a soft grunt that somehow managed to say sure you weren’t with no actual words.

Tim stared at the wall. His fingers twisted in the blanket. He was calm. He was fine. Jason wasn’t going to hurt him. Jason hadn’t hurt him. This wasn’t then. He knew that.

But his brain didn’t always listen.

Jason kept his posture relaxed. He didn’t move fast, didn’t raise his voice, didn’t approach unless Tim was ready for it. He was trying. Tim could tell.

And it only made it worse somehow— because that meant Jason knew. That Tim was scared. That Tim was nervous. That he couldn’t even look his brother in the eye for too long without a spike of panic threading through his chest.

Jason sighed and finally set the phone down. “You need something? More tea? Blanket? Punching bag?”

Tim shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Jason eyed him. “You’re always fine right up until you pass out on a rooftop in February. Yeah- Dickie told me about that.”

-----

An hour passed.

Jason was still quiet. Still chill. He flipped through an old book on his Bat-Ipad while Tim did… something on his laptop. (Jason would bet ten bucks he was trying to hack the weather patterns to find a gap in the blizzard.)

Then, it happened.

Jason was walking past, casual, same as before. Probably on his way to check the windows. He nudged Tim with his elbow in passing—barely a tap—and his arm brushed Tim’s ribs.

Tim yelped.

A high-pitched, startled noise escaped him as he jerked back, laptop nearly toppling.

Jason paused mid-step.

Turned.

Raised a brow. “...Seriously?”

“I—no,” Tim stammered, going red to his ears. “That was—shut up.”

Jason blinked. Then his mouth curled up. Slow. Dangerous.

“…Huh.”

Tim did not like that look.

"What," Tim said flatly, already putting the laptop down and trying to edge back on the couch.

Jason’s grin widened, pure menace now. “Y’know,” he said, thoughtful, “Dick mentioned you were ticklish. Wouldn't tell me where, though. Guess I'll figure it out now,”

“I’m not.”

“Mmhm.”

Jason lunged.

Tim bolted.

Tim dove off the couch in full-blown retreat mode. Jason laughed and gave chase, far too casually amused.

“You better get back here, baby bird!”

“You suck!” Tim hollered, skidding around the crate-table and ducking behind the fridge like it would save him. “You’re not even supposed to do this! This is—this is Dick’s thing!”

“Oh, come on.” Jason sounded almost offended. “All big brothers have rights. I was dead, not disqualified.”

"Jason—!"

-

It didn’t last long. The safehouse was too small, the furniture too scarce. Jason herded him like a big cat with a squeaky mouse.

Tim darted left, slipped on a loose floorboard, and the next second—

“Gotcha!”

Jason tackled him onto the ratty couch like Tim was a misbehaving puppy, laughing as he pinned him down with a knee and grabbed for his sides.

“NohohoHO—!” Tim instantly shrieked as Jason dug in, poking and squeezing with unrelenting precision. His laughter broke free, breathless and wild and genuine.

“Ohhh, look at that,” Jason crooned, grinning. “Ribs, huh? You poor, doomed creature.”

“STOHOHOHOP!! JAY!! IHIHIH’M GOHOHONNA D—EHEHE—!”

“Nah,” Jason said cheerfully, fingers skittering along Tim’s stomach, making him writhe like a panicked ferret. “You’ll live. I’m just giving you some, y’know, big brother treatment. Emotional damage. Cute giggles. All that good stuff.”

“EEEK—NOHOHO PLEHEHEASE!”

“Tickle tickle, baby bird,” Jason cooed. “C’mon, laugh therapy’s real, right? We’re bonding.”

He pressed harder into Tim’s lower ribs, drawing a scream-laugh that ended in an embarrassing squeak.

“NONONO NOHOHOT THEHEHERE—!”

“You brought this on yourself, baby bird.”

"Buhhuhut- EKK! NOHOHOHO! WAHAHAHAIT-"

“C’mon, you try to sneak out, you lie to my face, and you’re ticklish? You practically asked for this.”

Jason smirked and skittered his fingers down to the kid's belly again, earning a squeal and more squirming. He snorted.

"Seriously, little bird, you really thought you could hide this from me that long? If i didn't find out myself I'd catch Dick doing it."

Tim hissed at him, trying to shove the elder off, to no avail, since Jason was bigger and heavier. Jason grinned and took the opportunity to get his armpits, earning more thrashing.

"Ok, ok, how about this. You promise not to sneak out again, I stop for now." Jason continued as he said this, taking the chance to dig his fingers back into the smaller's sides.

“NEHEHEHEVER!”

Jason, delighted, leaned down until his forehead bumped Tim’s and growled affectionately, “Wrong answer.”

He dug in with double thumbs into Tim's tummy, gently but relentlessly, which earned him a loud squeal and way more giggles.

Tim was wrecked. Laughing, squealing, flailing weakly and hiccuping pleas between peals of helpless giggles.

It didn’t take long for Jason to clock that Tim’s laugh—rare and real—was the cutest damn thing in Gotham.

By another, he’d stopped trying to get away.

Soon, he was just laughing, red-faced and wriggling, and Jason could feel the tension in his little brother’s spine start to melt under his hands. Hands unclenched. Breath stopped being as frantic. He still squirmed, but only as much as a kid would when their big brother morphed into the tickle monster.

Eventually—eventually—Jason slowed down. Let the pressure fade. He didn’t move off of Tim, but he let him catch his breath. Tim lay there, panting, curled in on himself like a dizzied cat.

His hair was a mess. His face was pink. His hoodie had bunched halfway up his torso, revealing the faint edges of bruises and bandages. His eyes were closed, lashes damp, breath hiccupping.

Jason gently fixed his hoodie. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just… watched.

Then, soft: “I know you’re still scared of me, y’know.”

Tim stiffened. Barely.

Jason didn’t sound mad. Not even disappointed.

“It's ok,” he continued, voice low. “I was angry. You got the worst of it. And I… yeah. I’m sorry.”

Silence.

Jason climbed off and carefully tugged his little brother close. "I'm serious."

Tim opened his his eyes to look at him, a hint of wariness still there. Jason sighed and rested his chin lightly on the top of Tim’s head.

“I get it,” he said, voice quiet. “I was messed up. I know I hurt you a lot, not just verbally. I’m not mad at you for being scared of me, Timbit. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.”

Tim sniffled, once, and Jason didn’t comment on it.

“I’ll fix it,” he added. “I promise. You’re my little brother. You shouldn’t ever have to be scared of me. I’ll prove that to you. But I’m not gonna hurt you. Ever again. That’s a promise on any Robin's honor, baby bird."

Jason brushed a hand over Tim’s hair. This time, Tim didn’t flinch.

Jason sighed and lifted the kid, the way Dick and sometimes Bruce would do after obliterating a younger Jason would. He headed over to the couch and flopped down.

After a minute, Tim snuggled closer.

One exhausted little bat curled up against one very smug big brother.

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

Jason didn’t necessarily enjoy his visits to the Cave, but there were things that Bruce’s money could buy that Jason had difficulty getting his hands on. For instance, the state-of-the-art lab that was hooked up to the Batcomputer and all its insane processing speed. 

With Batman publicly off on a JL mission and no risk of running into Bruce, Jason didn’t hesitate breaking into the Batcave (was it really breaking in if they never deactivated Jason’s codes in the first place? Jason liked to think so) to study a concoction from his latest Scarecrow copy-cat that thought Crime Alley made a great testing ground. It was just his luck that the little replacement Robin happened to be down in the Cave at the same time, drowning in an oversized hoodie and staring down one of the Batcomputer’s monitors with bloodshot eyes. One of his arms was in a sling, but Jason didn’t keep track of the Bats’ cases enough to know what had caused the injury. He was more wilted than the oregano plant Jason had forgotten at one of his lesser-used safehouses. And, more importantly, he was in Jason’s way.

“Pretty sure little birdies are meant to be resting when their wings get clipped,” Jason called out as he walked up the steps toward the Batcomputer.

The line of Tim’s shoulders went taught as his head snapped around to glare at Jason. “I’m pretty sure zombie crime lords are supposed to stick to Crime Alley.”

Jason held up his sample of knock-off toxin, shaking the liquid inside. “Wouldn’t exactly be here if I didn’t have to.”

Tim’s lips pressed into a thin line as he huffed a breath out through his nose. “Fine.”

Jason rolled his eyes as he turned toward the mass spectrometer, fumbling a bit to set it up properly. It’d been a while since he’d had to use one, and the one in the Cave was a lot newer than the one he’d used as Robin. It didn’t help that the back of his neck burned from the eyes boring into it.

“Don’t need a babysitter, y’know.”

“Like I’m leaving you in the Cave unsupervised.”

Jason scoffed. “What am I gonna do, poison your juice boxes?” The machine finally started running rounds of analysis, so Jason spun around to lean against it, locking his eyes onto Tim. And the stack of soda cans next to him. “Or your Zesti, apparently. Alfred lets you drink all that shit?”

Tim stayed silent, narrowing his eyes.

Jason lit up. “He doesn’t, does he?” He laughed, eyeing the pile of empty cans again. “Maybe we should call him down right now, what do you say?”

Jason started towards Tim and the Batcomputer, only meaning to ruffle his hair, maybe tease him a bit more about his serious sugar addiction, but he came up short as Tim slipped a hand against the underside of the Batcomputer’s desk, fingers subtly searching. Jason knew there was a panic button under there, even though he’d never had to use it during his time as Robin. It would send alerts to Alfred, to Dick, to every device of Bruce’s – hell, it might even send alerts to Clark or Diana at this point. Jason really didn’t need Superman busting in with a disgruntled Batman in his arms while he was trying to get work done.

So he backed off, raising his hands in mocking surrender as he leaned back against the machinery behind him, playing it off with a sarcastic, “Damn then, Boy Wonder, keep your secrets.”

The rest of Jason’s visit to the Cave was spent in tense silence, only broken in brief intervals to discuss the specifics of Jason’s case and the results of the toxin analysis. Turns out it was developed from an older strain of Crane’s – the most current fear toxin antidote could wipe it out no problem.

It didn’t leave him as satisfied as it should have, feeling all off-kilter as he mounted his motorcycle and started his drive back to Crime Alley. He couldn’t shake the hard look in Tim’s eyes as his fingers searched the bottom of the desk. It was fucking infuriating. What should he care if the newest little Robin was scared of him, after all? He and the Bats weren’t a team, and Robin certainly wasn’t his responsibility.

Maybe Jason had inhaled a little of the toxin when running the analysis. That was all.

*     *     *

Scared wasn’t really the right word, Jason realized over time. Because Tim was very obviously not afraid of him. He would poke and prod at Jason, even outright mock him sometimes. His glares were fierce and intense, his tone short and snappy. At times, he almost seemed to be seeking out a fight, like he wanted a rematch, to prove the words he said back at Titan’s Tower.

“Do you think you’re that good now? Do you really, Tim?”

“Yes.”

Wary seemed more accurate. He wasn’t frightened of Jason, but he was mostly certainly on edge. Even more so when Jason started visiting the Manor itself, finally giving in to Alfred and Dick’s invitations (though he still staunchly refused the invitations for family dinners – no way in hell he was being civil with Bruce for that long.). Tim would eye Jason like one would a particularly reactive dog – cautious and ready to act, but without any outright fear or anxiety.

And Jason… he could live with that. He didn’t particularly enjoy it, but it’s not like they were family or anything. Just because Bruce took in the kid didn’t make them brothers – and it wasn’t like Bruce was his father anymore, anyway. The itch that grew under Jason’s skin when Tim would look at him like that was purely from having eyes on him, that was all. And he didn’t feel guilty for making the kid feel like that, thank you very much – that lingering weight in his chest was just a perfectly normal reaction to Dick’s puppy-dog eyes every time he and Tim sniped at each other. 

Seriously. No grown man should be able to make that expression. It was unnatural. 

He was so used to Tim’s cold shoulders that when he arrived at the Cave one afternoon, he almost fell off his motorcycle at the bright, cackling laugh that echoed across the stone once he cut his engine. It was boyish, childish, happy – all the things Robin should be. For a moment, it made old bitterness crawl up the back of his throat like bile, but he just as quickly swallowed it back down. He’d already taken out enough on the kid.

The laughter grew louder as he climbed the stairs up to the Batcave’s main platform, growing squeakier or snortier or gigglier in various intervals. By the time he made it up the stairs, Jason had a pretty good idea of what was happening. Turning away from the Batcomputer and towards the training mats easily confirmed it.

Because there was the Boy Wonder, in all his red-faced glory, cackling up a storm as Dick tickled the absolute shit out of him. 

At least Dick had someone besides Jason to take all that tickle-monster energy out on, now.

Dick’s head shot up as Jason’s boot scuffed across the stone, and he shot Jason a grin. “Hey, Little Wing!” Tim’s laughter lightened, growing more giggly. Probably Dick lightening up his attack in case he wanted to participate in the conversation. “What brings you here?”

“Came by to hack into the computer.” Jason jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Got some CCTV to look into, and the setup is better here than in any of my safehouses.”

Dick nodded, and Tim’s laughter jumped in pitch again.

“Jesus,” Jason said. “You trying to kill the kid?”

Dick laughed himself and finally let up, leaving Tim to roll onto his side and catch his breath. 

“Nah – but I think I might’ve finally found someone more ticklish than you, Jay.” He gave Jason a meaningful look, winking when he was sure Tim wasn’t looking.

Jason scoffed. He would not be filing that information away for later, thank you very much, because Tim was not his baby brother. “Yeah, whatever. I grew out of that – Lazarus Pits and all.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, a disarming smile on his lips. “Oh, really? That’s too bad. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, then, if I–”

Jason swiftly backed away from the mats. “Yeah, no. I’m busy – came here to work and all. Try to keep it down, will you?” He managed to catch Tim’s eye for a second. “Try his thighs,” he advised. “Or just under his ribs. Makes for great revenge.”

“Wha– Jason!”

Jason turned his back on them, not wanting to unpack the narrow-eyed look Tim gave him. Not even moments later he heard Dick yelp.

“Oh, no you don’t – you’ll regret that!”

And the Cave was quickly filled with laughter once more, two sets of it this time. Not exactly the quiet environment Jason had hoped for when he came by to work, but he would deal. The Batcomputer had high-quality headphones for a reason.

And, privately, Jason thought those two could use more opportunities to smile.

*     *     *

Over time, the uneasy truce settled into something more comfortable. There were times it still chafed, itching at Jason’s skin until he felt he needed to claw it off, but things were rarely so tense anymore that Jason expected to be cut off like a necrotic limb. Hood still handled Crime Alley, the Bats tackled the rest of Gotham, and sometimes, if the cards fell right, they were able to work cases together without any casualties.

Cases like this new up-and-coming gang. They’d spread outside of the Alley, maneuvering in areas where Hood didn’t have as much reach or authority, but they were still spreading through his own territory like slow-acting poison. There was only so much he could do, and so when Dick offered the Bats up to help, Jason agreed with only minimal bitching. 

Which led him to this warehouse rooftop, going on three hours crouched uncomfortably next to Robin, the irritation of a failed stakeout grating against his ribs and skull. The established gang these newbies were trying to ally with hadn’t even shown, and even the newbies were starting to pack up shop, wanting to get back to base before dawn broke. The newest little Robin, however, didn’t seem to be getting the memo that this was a bust.

“Kid,” Hood all but growled. “Let’s go, there’s nothing more for us here.”

Robin scoffed, still laying on his stomach and not bothering to drop the binoculars to have a conversation with Hood. “Something might still happen. I’m not going to drop this just because you’re getting impatient.”

A flash of irritation bubbled up in Hood’s chest, frustration coiling hot in his stomach. The gang was leaving, Hood was starving, his knees ached from crouching on this roof all night, and he really should’ve told Dick no when Robin was offered up to help with the stakeout. But of course, the Bat himself was too busy with some last-minute JL business, and Nightwing had his own problems in Bludhaven to deal with. The worst part was that Robin was right, something could still happen, but Hood sincerely doubted it. They hadn’t gotten any new or relevant info in the past two hours, and Hood was ready to stuff his face with some greasy fast food and pass out for the next six hours.

And so as the newbies finished loading up their vehicles and driving off, Hood reached over to snatch the binoculars from Robin. Somehow, even with his face buried behind the plastic, he knew Hood was coming and shifted out of the way, thrusting a foot into Hood’s chest to try and hold him back. Hood’s height was an advantage here, but Robin still refused to let go of the binoculars, staring after the newbies’ vehicles as if they held the answers to the universe. 

And Hood, overtired and ready to be out of all this goddamned armor and in bed, let his instincts take over again. He jabbed one hand up under Robin’s arm, poking and prodding at the softer spot in the armor designed for mobility. Robin made an awkward squawking sound, his arm shooting down to protect the vulnerable spot and cutting the grip he had on the binoculars by half. Hood easily wrenched them from his hand after that, tucking them into an inner pocket in his leather jacket.

“Come on,” Hood said, standing and brushing himself off like nothing happened. “Batburger, I’m buying.”

Robin scowled at him, eyes unreadable behind the white-out lenses of the domino, and slowly rose to his feet. “Fine. But I want Jokerized fries, and I don’t care how you feel about it.”

*     *     *

Jason had to wonder if the kid ever slept. Every time he came by the Cave, Tim was there too – training, running samples, working cases on the Batcomputer – no matter what absurd hour he arrived. Jason let out a loud, long, obnoxious sigh as he cleared the stairs to the main platform of the Batcave, and Tim immediately whipped around and glared at him over the back of the desk chair.

“Can I help you?” Tim snapped.

“I need the computer.” Jason kicked the base of the desk chair as he approached, propelling it several inches to the left. 

Tim’s scowl deepened, and he rolled the chair back into position. “Well you can wait. I’m busy with a case.”

Instead of arguing further, Jason opted for the quickest route of success. He grabbed the back of the desk chair, spun it around so Tim was no longer facing the desk, and unceremoniously dumped him out of the seat. Tim squawked as he stumbled out of the chair, but regained his footing quickly and immediately trying to bolt back into the seat. Jason smirked and yanked it away, sending it rolling a few feet behind him.

“Whoops.”

Tim pursed his lips. “Real mature.”

Jason laid a hand over his heart and cocked his head to the side. “Ouch. You wound me. Truly.”

Tim glared at him, but his eyes flicked towards the desk chair behind Jason. They burst into motion at the same time – Tim lunging towards the chair, and Jason lunging towards Tim. After a brief tussle, Jason yanked Tim into a headlock, and for a brief second the two of them went eerily still. Jason loosened his grip, making the hold easy to break, but didn’t let go. Tim stayed frozen for a moment longer before tilting his head up, giving Jason a challenging look.

Jason’s mind warred with itself for a few moments. Not my little brother, one side of his brain said. Isn’t he, though? another replied. He had, unfortunately, filed away that information Dick had given him, as much as he tried to ignore it. And, well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it? He didn’t think he’d even given Tim back his Bat-noculars.

A moment passed, and Jason suddenly lunged, latching his free hand onto Tim’s side and squeezing away. Tim jerked in his grip, squealing as a smile forced its way onto his face. One hand went towards prying Jason’s off his side, while the other came and clutched at the forearm around his throat for stability. Jason grinned and allowed the hand to crawl up Tim’s side, carefully keeping his headlock loose so that Tim wouldn’t really feel trapped. The second Jason’s fingers touched his ribs and a real laugh jumped out from Tim’s throat, he was out of Jason’s grip in seconds. Tim stood across from him, giving him another one of those uncomfortably calculating looks, though the blush rushing to his cheeks diminished it slightly.

“Fine,” Tim said eventually. “I should head up and get a snack anyways.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. 

“But I’m coming back down in two hours, and I will be getting back to my case. Whether you’re done on the computer or not.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, sure thing, Timberly. Whatever you say.”

*     *     *

Jason was at the Manor for family dinner.

His skin itched at the thought as he sped into the Cave on his motorcycle – he never entered through the Manor proper, not in all these months, something about that just made it too real, too raw – and threw his riding gear off. Bruce was going to be there – not Batman, Bruce, and he hadn’t really interacted with the man outside the mask since he came back – but so were Dick and Alfred. And so was Tim.

Bit by bit, the kid had been relaxing around him. They worked cases together (and with Nightwing) when Hood needed a Bat, or when the birds needed his help instead. He didn’t tense whenever Jason came through the Cave anymore, didn’t eye Jason with suspicion when they crossed paths on patrol. He still stared a lot, but it’s not like Jason could blame him. He had attacked the kid, and even if he didn’t leave him with more than a concussion and some bruises (and Jason with a grudging sense of respect for the brat, as he walked away with his own array of bruising and a busted nose), the kid was well within his rights to keep his eyes on Jason’s movements.

But still, the progress they had made was, well, nice.

Speak of the devil — the Cave wasn’t empty. Tim was in the training area, dressed in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, running his bo staff drills with a single-minded focus that could rival even Bruce. Jason almost would’ve thought that Tim didn’t realize he was there, but Tim’s eyes flicked his direction as he approached the edge of the training mats. Tim ran through the move he was doing a few more times, making minute posture changes each time until his form was perfect, before dropping out of his stance and facing Jason.

“Not bad,” Jason said.

Tim ticked up an eyebrow. “Thanks.” His gaze trailed over to the stairs. “Alfred’s still making dinner, and Bruce is up there brooding and fussing over everything until it’s perfect. You probably wanna stay down here until the food’s ready.”

The skin around Jason’s eyes tightened as he suppressed a wince. “Yeah, thanks. Where’s Golden Boy?”

The corner of Tim’s mouth twitched up. “He got saddled with ‘distract Bruce’ duty.”

Jason matched Tim’s half-smile. They lapsed into an awkward silence. Jason shoved his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to fidget. Tim stared.

“Let’s spar,” Tim said suddenly, turning on his heel to set aside his bo staff.

Jason stared at him, incredulous. “What?”

“Spar. You and me.”

“Are you sure about that, kid?”

Tim shot him one of those calculating looks over his shoulder. “Do you have anything better to do?”

Jason pursed his lips. “No.”

“Then let’s spar.”

Palms sweating, Jason kicked off his boots, shucked his leather jacket, and set aside the weapons he’d hidden on his person. He set himself up opposite of Tim, lowering his body into a fighting stance.

“Ready?” Tim asked.

“Yup.”

The word was barely out of Jason’s mouth before Tim lunged, immediately going in for a grapple. Jason almost laughed — he far outclassed the little Robin in both weight and strength — and quickly sent the kid sprawling to the mats before backing away. Tim was scowling when he stood up.

“Don’t go easy on me.”

“Don’t worry, Boy Wonder. I’m just getting warmed up.”

Tim lunged first again, feinting left before trying to circle around to Jason’s back on the right. Jason whipped around and blocked the incoming blows, jabs that would’ve left his arms numb and tingling for hours had they landed. On one block, he snagged Tim’s wrist and used it to twirl him halfway around. He shoved Tim forward, harder than he meant to, and let him stumble a few feet as he retreated again.

The spar went on like this for a while, Tim attacking and Jason blocking and retreating. Tim’s scowl got deeper and deeper, and the careful control he usually held in his movements started slipping more and more. After the tenth time Jason knocked Tim’s attack away and retreated, Tim finally snapped.

“Stop babying me! I can take it!”

“Tim—“

“No.” Tim fell back into a ready stance, face red and splotchy from frustration and exertion. “I know what it looks like when you’re fighting for real. So fight me.”

Jason pressed his lips into a thin line. “Fine.”

Jason rushed first this time, and Tim met him in the middle. They exchanged a series of blows (though Jason pulled his punches — this was a spar not a brawl, and he kinda thought Tim had enough of Jason punching his lights out by now), and Tim held his own well. He’d gotten some good hits in during their confrontation at Titan’s Tower, but it was clear he had improved since losing to Jason back then. If Tim had been in a better state, he might’ve been able to hold out against Jason’s onslaught for a while.

As it was, Tim had clearly been training for a while before Jason had come in and had already been fatigued, and his lingering frustration from Jason’s kid-gloves was obviously making him sloppy. With Jason’s bulk and sheer strength, he had Tim pinned to the ground in minutes. Tim grunted and growled and struggled under him, trying to free himself, but Jason had both his arms pinned above his head and had settled his bulk over Tim’s thighs so he couldn’t flip their positions or kick Jason off.

“Satisfied?” Jason asked dryly.

Tim didn’t reply, twisting his wrists to test Jason’s grip.

“Ready to hit the showers? Alfred probably won’t be happy if we come to dinner all drenched in sweat.”

Tim twisted his hips, trying to throw Jason off but unable to get the leverage to move his considerable weight. “No, fuck you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn, Timber, you kiss Alfred with that mouth?”

Tim paid him no mind, continuing to hiss and spit under him. Honestly, it reminded Jason a lot of when he was Robin. Whenever Dick beat him in a spar, he would hiss and spit and carry on, trying to break the hold until Dick got sick of his whining and—

Ah. So that was why Dick had been tickling the kid to tears the other month. 

Jason gave Tim a considering look. For a moment, he wondered if he really had the right. Tim wasn’t his little brother, not really. Just because they got taken in by the same rich asshole did not mean they were related. He’d been telling himself so for months, even if there were moments of doubt. But, well, wasn’t Tim his little brother? They snarked and tussled over the computer and helped each other on cases, and Jason was here to eat family dinner with him for God’s sake.

And hey, maybe getting tickled to tears on the training mats by your asshole predecessor would become a Robin right-of-passage.

Amidst Tim’s struggling, Jason managed to wrangle both his wrists into one hand and pin them firmly above his head. Then, making sure Tim was watching, he hovered a hand over Tim’s stomach and slowly started wiggling his fingers.

Tim gasped and froze. Then, just as quickly, his struggles started up again with a new desperation.

“You wouldn’t.”

Jason grinned, lowering his wiggling fingers another inch. “Say uncle, Timmy.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, dragging his eyes away from the ticklish threat to meet Jason’s own. “Do your worst.”

Tim’s mouth clamped shut tight just as Jason’s lowered his hand and touched down on Tim’s stomach. Tim squeezed his eyes shut and squirmed, going pink in the face as he tried not to laugh.

Jason laughed for him. “Come on, TimTam, we both know you’re ticklish as shit. No point in not laughing.”

Tim shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to worm away to the left as Jason’s hand traveled to his right side.

“No, it doesn’t tickle? Are you sure?”

Even though his eyes were still closed, Tim turned his face away from Jason, trying to hide behind one of his biceps. Jason grinned wider and jumped his hand over to Tim’s other side, delivering a series of nibbling pinches without warning. Tim squeaked, like the little baby bird he was, and jolted to the right to try and get away.

“I dunno, Baby Bird. Seems like it might tickle.”

Tim made a growling noise in the back of his throat, and Jason couldn’t help but laugh again.

“No? Maybe we should make sure all your nerves are working right, then.”

Tim’s eyes snapped open at that, glassy and watery from the effort of holding back his laughter. Jason made sure to grin at him, smug and toothy and all evil-big-brother, just like Dick used to do to him.

“Tell me, can you feel this?”

His hand shot up and skittered calloused fingertips and blunt fingernails against the exposed side of Tim’s neck. Tim’s head snapped to that side with a muffled squeal, his smile fighting to become open-mouthed and toothy, forcing Tim to bite down on his lip to keep his reactions at bay.

“Hmm, seems promising. How ‘bout here, can you feel that?”

Jason shot back down and vibrated his hand into the center of Tim’s belly. Tim tried to jackknife to protect himself, but with his wrists firmly pinned and Jason’s considerable weight on his thighs, he was forced to stay flat against the mats. He chose to toss his head back against the mats instead, shaking it back and forth furiously.

“No?” Jason asked, voice dripping with faux-concern. “You can’t feel it?”

Tim let an annoyed little groan, but quickly cut it off as it started to take on a giggly tone. Jason was being deliberately unhelpful in the matter, poking his index finger into various spots of Tim’s stomach and vibrating it.

“Right here, can you feel this? What about over here? And here? Come on Timbit, work with me here.”

Tim flinched and twitched at every prod, trembling with suppressed giggles. Jason’s own cheeks hurt from smiling — he could definitely see why Dick tickled the snot out of him so often when he was a kid. This was adorable and hilarious. But he still had yet to make the kid break, which was kinda annoying. Like, hello, how was Jason supposed to tickle the snot out of him if he wouldn’t even laugh? Jason paused for a moment, letting Tim catch his breath as he planned his next attack. Now where was it that made Tim shoot out of his arms the other week…

Oh, that’s right.

Jason put on a mournful look, shaking his head. “Starting to get real concerned here, Timbourine. Maybe we oughtta do a full injury check.” Jason rested his fingers on Tim’s lower ribs. “What do you say?”

Tim gasped, shuffling as far away from Jason’s hand as he could, but Jason followed the movement easily.

“Jason—“ Tim started, but cut himself off, pressing his lips together again.

“What is it you said to me, again? Do my worst, was that it?”

“Jason, I’ll— I’ll buffer Bruce for you tonight. I’ll take on your caseload. I’ll clean your motorcycle, I—“

“As tempting as that all sounds,” Jason had to raise his voice to be heard over Tim’s rambling. “You know what I wanna hear. Admit you lost.” 

Tim’s mouth clamped shut. Of course. How could the latest model not come with that patented stubborn Robin pride?

Jason shrugged, tapping his fingers threateningly against Tim’s ribs, making him squirm. “Suit yourself.”

Jason wasn’t the greatest at picking apart Tim’s expressions, but he’d say the smile forcing its way across Tim’s face was almost giddy.

He started off with a typical injury-check touch, a light press and slide against the individual ribs, just to really play into the game he had set up. Tim’s face scrunched up instantly, obviously trying to hold back his reactions, and his body started squirming with a new fervor. 

“Nerves working here, Timmers?” Jason tickled his middle ribs a bit more deliberately, making Tim’s face spasm. “Seems to me like you might be feeling something. Does it tickle?”

Tim shook his head. Jason sighed.

“You leave me no choice.”

Jason released Tim’s wrists and latched onto either side of his ribs with both hands, tickling mercilessly. Tim’s eyes bugged out of his head as he let out a laugh bordering on a scream. His legs scrambled on the mats behind Jason, searching for leverage or freedom. As Tim’s laughter fell into desperate cackles, Jason couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Jason! Jay!”

“You know how to make it stop, Timmy.”

Even with his hands free, Jason was discovering that Tim was absolutely useless when he was tickled. Jason attacked lower on his ribcage and Tim’s hands latched onto Jason’s wrists in a feeble, laughter-weakened attempt to pry him off. That only opened up the rest of his ribcage and armpits to attack, which Jason took great advantage of. Tim’s laughter would get more panicky, more shrill, the higher Jason went, but his brain didn’t seem to know how to defend itself — seeing as his hands stayed latched onto Jason’s to try and pull him off.

“Jesus Christ, Baby Bird — how do you even live when you’re this ticklish?”

“Asshole!”

Jason raised an eyebrow, though he wasn’t sure Tim could see it through his squinted, teary eyes. “Be nice. I could make this so much worse.”

“No, no!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Of course, Jason still made it worse anyway. There was a particular spot towards the back of Tim’s ribs, right between the top two on either side, that sent Tim spasming like he’d been electrocuted. Jason laughed as he prodded at the weak points one at a time, watching Tim toss himself in the opposite direction of the ticklish jolts. Finally, he gave Tim a breather, resting his fingers against those spots on his ribs just to keep him giggly and twitchy.

“Last chance for mercy,” Jason said, just barely twitching his fingers to watch Tim jump. “Alfred’ll send someone down soon.”

Tim’s teary eyes went wide. “Wait, Jason, come on–”

“Damn stubborn little Robin.”

Jason dug his fingers in, torturing those little tickle spots as best he could.

“Fuck!” Tim practically screamed before breaking into laughter that would give even the Joker a run for his money. Surprisingly, the hysterical tone of it didn’t even make Jason’s skin crawl. “Uncle!” Tim cried out, and his laughter went silent.

Jason eased up, redirecting his attack lower on Tim’s ribs, though still vibrating his fingers into the nerves mercilessly. “Hm? What was that?”

“You win! Uncle, you win! Jason, come on!”

With a chuckle, Jason heaved himself off of Tim to sit on the mats next to him, ruffling his hair as he caught his breath.

“Fuck you,” Tim said, closing his eyes and relaxing bonelessly into the mats.

“Hey.” Jason raised his hands in surrender. “You could’ve stopped that at any time. Not my fault you’re a stubborn little bitch.”

“I’ll get you for this.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got, like, a hundred pounds on you and I’m twice your height. How do you think you’re accomplishing that, shrimp?”

Tim peeled one eye open to glare at him. “I’ve got Dick.”

Jason froze. Oh, shit.

“That he does,” a cheerful voice chimed in from the direction of the stairs. Dick strode towards them, a slightly feral smile on his face. “And I would be more than happy to help. We never did test your claim about the Lazarus Pit taking away your ticklishness.”

Oh, fuck, actually. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Tim about Dick’s thighs that one time.

Dick’s smile shifted from feral to innocent in the blink of an eye. “But maybe later. Alfred sent me to get you for dinner – and I know he wouldn’t appreciate your B.O. stinking up the dinner table. Hit the showers.”

Jason groaned as he got up, pretending to crack his back even though he wasn’t the slightest bit sore from their sparring or impromptu tickle attack. Then, he reached down and hauled Tim to his feet, shoving him in the direction of the Cave’s locker room ahead of himself. Just as he went to follow, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Good job, big brother,” Dick said, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t travel through the echoing cave. He gave Jason’s shoulder a squeeze.

Jason looked away and scoffed. “Yeah, whatever. Little shit was asking for it.”

Dick laughed and dropped his hand, shoving Jason toward the locker room much like Jason had shoved Tim. He tried not to think about it too hard, instead focusing on how carefully he’d have to watch his back in the future.