#jj!tim

Tim, wandering into the kitchen:

Jason, making ice cream sundae's: Yeah, Little Red?

Tim, opening his mouth and tilting his head back:

Jason, sighing heavily as he proceeds to dump a handful of M&M's into his mouth:

Tim, chewing them happily:

Stephanie: What the f—-#?

(Inspired by the OG Joker Junior, my toddler brother, also known as "Little Wing," "Baby bird," "My Robin," and "Squishy")

—

Bruce, seeing Tim for the first time in two years: . . .

Tim: . . . Wh— what's wrong? Cat got your tongue?

Tim, snorting: I mean, when doesn't she!? Haha!

Bruce: . . . Oh, Tim.

Tim: Don't look so sad,

Tim, waving a gun at him: Not like you left me alone to rot in Arkham or anything! Like some low life villain, another rogue, a criminal, like I was some insignificant, sudden inconvenience to you after giving everything for you and your mission! Right!?!

Bruce: . . .

Tim: Oh. Right.

—

Tim, running into Jason's office in the iceberg lounge:

Stephanie, running in behind him in full Spoiler wear, slamming the door shut:

Jason:

Jason: What did you two do?

Tim: Remember that part where you specifically told us to not mess with Black Mask 'cause you'd deal with him without getting kids involved?

Stephanie, pulling her mask off: We just accidentally blew up a large drug shipment that belongs to Black Mask.

Tim: In his territory.

Stephanie: We probably were seen.

Tim: We were definitely seen.

Stephanie: Nightwing saw us.

Tim: And Black Masks men.

Jason:

Stephanie: Uh...

Tim: Riding Hood..?

Jason, slowly standing: I'm gonna go smoke two packs of cigarettes and scream in the broom closet now.

—

Roy: You have no idea how much work kids are.

Jason, who was up all night with Tim who thought there were rats living in their walls. There was not. There are now holes in said walls: Yeah, no idea...

—

Cassandra, glaring at Steph while holding an ice pack to her face: You hit me.

Stephanie: You were trying to catch me.

Cassandra: You hit me. With a brick.

Stephanie: You work with Batman.

Cassandra: You work with Red Hood.

Stephanie: Yeah, he's cool.

Cassandra: He kills... He has the choice to have home, family, a Father who loves him, and he chooses to kill. Hurt. Destroy!

Stephanie: Is that what Batman said?

Cassandra: It is the truth! Why? Why does he choose to hurt? Why do you?!

Stephanie: . . . I ask myself that a lot, actually! Why am I the Spoiler? At first it was just to bust my dumb Dad, help out my Mom, then I told myself it was the rush, to spite Batman, then? Then... It became about reclaiming, I dunno, myself? It was freeing, Stephanie Brown couldn't even land a decent boyfriend. Spoiler? She has..! Everything.

Cassandra: . . . Hm.

Stephanie: Hm? That's what you give me?

Cassandra: Oracle... She does not tell me about you, Red Hood, or Tim. Says it... hurts. I always thought she meant they have both have hurt her, somehow.

Stephanie: Well... There's different kinds of hurt. And I don't think Tim is capable of hurting anyone.

Cassandra: Batman says there's different hurts. Ones we can and cannot control.

Stephanie: Yeah, what's his genius advice?

Cassandra: Control what we can. You? You cause me... All sorts of pain, made me believe there's more than two kinds of hurt, and pain.

Stephanie: Yeah? What's the secret third option?

Cassandra: . . . There is pain we allow to hurt us, need to hurt us, to keep us from doing things, dumb things! Pain that we don't control, but can control, and yet choose to remain out of control out of fear for what we'd do without it.

Stephanie: Poetic.

Cassandra: Why do I allow you to hurt me?

Stephanie: Depends. Where's it hurt?

Cassandra: . . . My chest. Deep inside, behind my ribs, in my lungs, in my heart.

Stephanie: What... What would you do if you stopped the pain, huh?

Cassandra: Something very, very dumb.

Stephanie: Mm, sounds like somebody's got a bad case of the Steph's.

Cassandra: I . . . Need to go. Barbara will worry.

Stephanie: Yeah, yeah, see you around, Batgirl.

(later)

Stephanie, slamming Jason's apartment door open:

Tim, jolting up from where he was asleep on Jason:

Jason, laying on the couch with a book in hand: Uh, can I help you???

Stephanie: I FELT HOMOEROTIC THOUGHTS!

Tim, grumbling before plopping back down to lie on Jason and go back to sleep: Mood.

—

Bruce: Unfortunately I have an opera to attend tonight and won't be able to assist in the stake out tonight.

Dick: Who's going with you to the opera?

Bruce, sighing heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose: Unfortunately—

Tim: HE NEEDED SOMEONE SHORT TO ACCOMPANY HIM! I AM SHORT! >:D

Jason: Not for long, I got ya on a fancy food planner. And he needed someone "kid shaped."

Jason, to Bruce: Anything happens to my baby brother and you'll have more holes in you than an iron maiden can give ya...

—

Tim: . . .

Bruce: . . .

Tim: My Mom used to take me to these. Y'know. When I was legally alive :)

Bruce: Jok—... Tim, please.

Tim: What? Guilt weighs heavily on your shoulders? Heavy is the cowl!? Not as heavy as that cape, that thing was soooooooo heavy. Jason's jacket is also heavy. Did you know that? Probably not. He made sure they aren't flammable anymore, by the by—

Bruce: —Can we... Can we just please focus on this? I need to gather more intel.

Tim: Suuuuure, anything for you, Father dearest.

Bruce: . . .

—

Bernard, visiting Crime Alley to "hunt cryptids", high school years: . . . Uh, hi?

Tim: You come here a lot.

Bernard: Do you. . . follow me?

Tim, grinning as he pokes Bernard's nose: I watch.

Bernard: You... Are weird, kinda scary.

Tim: Not as scary as my big brother... Wanna meet him!?

Bernard: Uhhhhhhhh... Sure.

—

Bernard: —So, naturally I asked her out.

Tim: Did she say yes?

Bernard: No, but that's not the point, Timmy!

Tim: Tim.

Bernard: I'm expanding my horizons. Plus, she could've been a succubus!

Tim: Sirens are better.

Bernard: What?! No, succubie are superior to those sea witches! Anyways there's no way they'd be able to survive in Gotham's water.

Tim: Hey! Witches are quite delightful! And succubie?! That's not even English.

Bernard: So is!

Tim: Is not. I know better. Jason's a book nerd.

Bernard: Ugh, you're impossible.

Tim: I aim to be!

(later)

Bernard, in bed, on his phone: How... to tell... if you're... attracted... to... clowns... That... That happen to be boys?

—

Ratcatcher: I have an army of rats!

Tim: . . . They locked me in a room, a rubber room, a rubber room with rats.

Stephanie, instantly: The rats made me crazy.

Both of them: They locked me in a room, a rubber room, a rubber room with rats, the rats made me crazy.

Ratcatcher: ???

—

Jason: What kinda training do you have?

Stephanie: What kinda training does he have?

Tim, in the background, spinning in a swivel chair: WEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

Jason: You'd be surprised.

—

Tim: Am I... Pretty?

Bernard: The prettiest.

Tim: Yeah, but on a scale?

Bernard: What's the scale?

Tim: Just name a number.

Bernard: Infinity.

Tim: That's not a number.

Bernard: Is to.

—

Tim: . . . Harley Quinn is out of Arkham?

Jason, cleaning a gun: That's . . . Yeah, yeah she is. Workin' on it now.

Tim: Getting her back in?

Jason: To the hell she crawled outta? Sure.

Tim: Mm . . . Heard she's running with Poison Ivy.

Jason: Yup, maybe they can freeze in hell togethe'.

Tim: I don't want Harley dead. She wasn't . . . He hurt her, too.

Jason: Kid—

Tim: She didn't want to hurt me! She didn't... Want this. Don't... Don't, Jason, please?

Jason: . . . Anythin' for you, Little Red.

“Uhhh, oh boy, Jaybird? You might want to—you might want to come look at this,” Roy says, clearly trying to keep his features impassive. Jason’s stomach clenches. Roy rarely hides his emotions away, not with Jason. Only when—no. No no no. He rushes over, snatching the tablet from Roy’s hands. “Wait! Jason—” His eyes scan the screen, skimming over headline after headline. TIM DRAKE-WAYNE MISSING AFTER JOKER ATTACK TIM DRAKE-WAYNE: MISSING OR DEAD? JOKER KIDNAPS WAYNE HEIR TIM DRAKE-WAYNE FOUND? HERE’S WHAT WE KNOW Jason feels nauseous. He looks over at Tim’s unconscious body, realizing they hadn’t taken his mask off in the rush to get his IV situated and check on the more obvious wounds and scars. He walks over, reaches for the bandana, and slowly pulls it down. Jason stumbles back in horror, feeling as if he’s going to throw up. This can’t be happening. He can’t have gotten another one of them. How could he have gotten another one? He was supposed to be the last. He was supposed to be the last.