hugs
It’s not that nobody else’s hugs are good. Dick is the master of cuddling, Cass always knows when to go for a hug and when to back off, and Damian’s hugs are the most adorable thing in the world. Tim does hugs like he thinks they’ll disappear if he doesn’t grip tight enough, Steph hugs like she’s trying to break ribs, and Bruce, as always, is warmth and love and home.
But. But a Jason Todd Hug is special.
Jason is still prickly, still determinedly straddling the line between outsider and family no matter how many people want to pull him back, and he rarely ever attends the family dinners or parties or any get-together when he’s not in the mask.
But sometimes he forgets, forgets that he’s pretending not to be their brother, forgets that he’s keeping them at arm’s length. Sometimes he wraps his arms around them – easily, because he grew up to be the tallest, grew up the most like Bruce – and envelops them in warmth and leather and gun oil and protection.
A Jason Todd Hug is special because it means he cares. Because it feels like a victory. Because it feels like family, like returning home after a long vacation, like sleeping in their own bed and knowing that nothing will ever get them.
Nobody makes the colossal mistake of daring to say this out loud, lest they get cut off forever.
Until Damian squirms out of Dick’s grasp and snaps, “You’re not Todd, you can’t hug me.”
Dick’s mind goes blank. Tim, on the Batcomputer, stops typing. Steph pokes her head out of the medbay, eyes wide.
Dick recovers and then immediately scans the Cave. No Jason in sight, thank god.
“You can’t just say things like that, Dami,” Dick hisses, “Do you want him to sulk and never come back here again?”
“You’ve gotten a Jason Todd Hug?” Steph asks, eyes wide and betrayed, “How? How did the baby assassin get a hug? I’ve been trying for months!”
“You’ve been trying to get a hug from Jason?” Tim blinks at her, while Dick mouths ‘months?’.
“Sure, after I saw you practically melt into it,” Steph says, pouting, “You never do that with Dick’s hugs. I thought it must be something special.”
“That’s because you never encourage Dick, he will hold on and never let go,” Tim says, eyes dark as he grumbles over his coffee. Dick magnanimously chooses to ignore that statement.
“It isn’t that difficult,” Dick smiles at her, “Either you go for the ‘looking pathetic’ route, or you ambush him.”
Steph looks like she wants to take notes. Damian huffs, “Who made you the expert on Todd’s hugs?”
“Well, I get the most hugs, so I should be the expert,” Dick explains reasonably.
Damian and Tim eye him speculatively. Oops.
“Care for a friendly wager?” Tim asks with a shark smile.
That’s when the whiteboard goes up.
Steph’s in favor of writing ‘Jason Todd Hugs’ on it, but Dick convinces her to keep it to initials because if Jason ever finds out, the competition will be over permanently. They all add their names to the list.
“Alright, any time anyone gets a hug, we add a tally mark,” Dick says, “No maiming, bribery, or blackmail allowed.” Standard rules.
“When do we end the competition?” Tim asks.
Dick frowns. If Jason’s in a Mood then it might be weeks before anyone gets a hug from him, and he wants this to be fair. To give the munchkins a chance.
“First to ten?” Steph suggests.
“Sounds good,” Dick agrees, “Though if we’re getting Jason’s hugs, we’re already winners.”
They all shake on it, and the whiteboard goes up near a board of other miscellaneous stuff, not hidden but definitely out of visible line of sight for anyone who enters the Cave through the garage entrance and spends only five minutes before leaving again.
~#~
C is added to the list of participants the next day, without any notice or explanation.
~#~
There is a little scribble of a bat on the whiteboard by the end of the week. There is also a W squeezed in between the T and H in the title.
The competitors look at each other across the Cave and nod. The battle is on.
~#~
Cass is the first one who gets on the scoreboard, mainly because she drops in on top of Jason on one of his rare visits to the Cave.
Jason was arguing with Bruce, his jaw tightening, his expression shifting from irritation to frustration when the Black Bat drops from the rigging and knocks him flat against the mats.
Jason stares up at her, bewildered. “Did you fall?” he asks. Cass widens her eyes in lieu of outright lying, and flops on top of him. Jason automatically wraps his arms around her and she relaxes into the hug.
“You should be more careful,” he says quietly.
Cass hums, and lets her head rest against the thump-thump of his heartbeat.
When Jason has left, motorcycle roaring away, she takes the marker and draws a single line below the C.
Tim shoots her a dirty look.
~#~
“It’s not fair,” Tim glowers at Dick, hair half-sticking up on one side, as Dick dramatically and pointedly adds another tally to his score, bringing it up to four.
Jason nearly stabbed him, but it’s worth it.
“I gave you my secrets, baby bird,” Dick laughs, “What more do you want?”
“You and Cass just. Attack him with hugs,” Tim waves his hands to make his point, “That’s not fair!”
“You could attack him with hugs too,” Dick points out.
Tim gives him a flat look. “Somehow I have a feeling that won’t go over well.”
Dick shrugs, hiding his smirk. “That sounds like a you problem.”
~#~
He notices it on a visit to the Cave, a whiteboard that’s clearly a new addition, emblazoned with JTWH in Dick’s handwriting. The W is smaller than the rest, like it was squeezed in after.
Underneath it is a long line of initials with tally marks underneath. D, T, DW, S, C, and a little stylized bat. The whole gang. (Except him.)
Dick is clearly winning, with five tallies under his name, though someone seems to have scrawled in ‘cheater’ underneath those. Cass is in second place with three, Replacement and Batgirl have tied for third with two, Babs has one, and Damian has a half for some reason. Bruce, he’s happy to see, is losing.
He doesn’t mention it. He’s distracted by the case they’re working on, and then by patrol, and by the time he remembers it, he’s irritable and sleep-deprived and bitter enough that the idea that they left him out of their competition fits right at home with his aching heart.
~#~
“What’s JTWH?” he asks, because the whiteboard is in his line of sight and it never stopped bothering him. Jason tries to keep his voice casual, tries to not ruin the pleasant mood in the Cave, but his next words are a little too sharp. “And why am I not on the scoreboard?”
Everyone goes silent in a way that’d be freaky if they weren’t all piled on top of him. He can practically hear the looks being exchanged around him.
“What, afraid I was going to smoke all of you at your competition?” Jason asks. More looks. Jason tenses, waiting for it – the ‘you said you’re not part of this family’ and ‘you never asked’ and ‘we forgot’.
“You are,” Cass says simply, patting his head.
“I am what?”
“On board.”
Jason squints at the whiteboard. Nope, he can’t see his name on it. “No, I’m not. And no one told me about any competition either.”
“Silly goose,” Cass says, which has become her favorite phrase ever since Bruce used it once, “You are. Top.”
Jason frowns, because he still doesn’t – JTWH. Oh.
“And what do the rest of the letters stand for?” Jason grumbles, wondering what they’re tracking. How many days since he killed someone. How many days since he’s threatened them. How many times he’s yelled at them. “Jason Todd Was Here? Jason Todd Water Hose? Jason Todd –”
“Wayne,” Bruce says quietly from next to him. “Jason Todd-Wayne.”
Jason swallows. He can’t quite look at Bruce. “What does the H stand for?”
Everyone gives each other shifty looks.
“Oh, wow, that bad, huh.”
“Hugs,” Steph rolls her eyes, “Jason Todd-Wayne Hugs. So, no, actually, you can’t win, because you can’t give yourself a hug.”
Jason blinks at her.
“Steph,” Tim whines from somewhere near his elbow.
“I said that no one was allowed to tell,” Dick sighs, “I said it explicitly. I warned you all.”
“Tt. If the competition ends because of you, Brown, I will take my vengeance.” Damian’s grip tightens on Jason’s leg.
“Well, it was either the truth or whatever his imagination was coming up with,” Steph shrugs. She’s looking at him like he’s going to disappear.
“Wait,” Jason croaks, because he lost the thread of this conversation somewhere, “You’ve been having a competition…over hugs?”
“Over your hugs.”
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