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tothemaxie · 6 years

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Benched - JayTim Secret Santa

For @cinnamonskull//@jayskulll for JayTim Secret Santa I'M SO SORRY! I've had HELL with getting my tablet back up and running, and between that, hospital appointments and moving back to uni, my life has spiralled out of control. BUT - I'll do an art request for you to apologize. <3

“Tim maybe, quite possibly, might have broken a few ribs... And his collarbone... And now he's stuck on surveillance. But he's found a way to make it a little more fun...”

It started four weeks after Tim had shattered his collarbone (well, that and three ribs). Definitely one of the worse breaks he'd had to endure, but he'd made sure the other guy ended up worse (concussion from a last second swing of his bo-staff as he went down). Despite Tim's insistence he'd be fine and to full health within a week, Alfred and Bruce had shared 'That Look', and Tim had sighed - knowing in that moment that he'd be well and truly benched for at least six weeks. Apparently, Damian had understood the shared glance as well, if his spit of laughter was anything to go by.

It took Bruce two weeks to even allow Tim on surveillance from the cave, which had had the desperate vigilante going near stir crazy! Everything felt a little nicer once he was back at the computer. It meant - although he couldn't jump in - he could offer at least some assistance if someone in his family got into trouble. But (not really all that surprisingly) his family didn't really get into trouble they couldn't handle, all that much. So, there were just a lot of slow research tasks to take up his time...

That was, until he realized that watching could be fun... Specifically, watching his extremely talented, extremely hot boyfriend kick bad-guy butt to the gravel.

Tim knew almost everything technical about the way Jason fought; he had to, that's how he worked. But he'd never previously stopped to just watch it from a more... Artistic perspective. To see the precise angle his leg raised to during a roundhouse, or to hear the near-satisfied groan down the mic in his helmet that followed a really secure knockout. Tim really did want to pretend that it wasn't thigh-tremblingly hot, but there was no way to deny. Especially when he'd have to bite back a moan every time Jason acknowledged his presence, with a quick update comment, or glance into a public surveillance camera.

It was all so crazy intense to Tim that he could be watching his boyfriend like this, getting off a little on every movement, while Jason himself had no idea. It always made his breathing hitch and his boxers tight. And up until this point he really had no indication that he was a complete pervert. Maybe he wasn't? Maybe this was normal? The thrill of the forbidden... He always loved the forbidden. Jason was a testament to that.

But, all in all, his little routine worked well for him! Pretending to work on various cases for as long as possible, before having his eye caught by the way Jason threw a fucking right hook, damn. Then, quickly looping the in-cave surveillance (he would literally beg Kon to throw him into the sun if Bruce ever found out about this), and jerking off under the desk. Followed by swiftly cleaning himself up and ignoring the shame he felt next time he spent any time with Jason.

But there was a problem. Because a week in, shit started getting serious.

It began with Jason sitting in on some of Dick's little, impromptu stretch class sessions in the soft matted sparring area in the cave. Tim had just been finishing working on some DNA samples Bruce needed chasing up, and he really didn't mean to listen in... But then, he heard his name. And he was far too intrigued to go upstairs after that!

"C'mon, Jay!" Dick had laughed, and it was obvious they were just using this time to chat now (good, Tim had surmised, they never did seem to get to spend enough time together). "It's Tim! You've been with him almost a year now, d'you really think he's that close-minded about this stuff?"

"No." Jason responded almost too quickly. "If anything, Tim's too open-minded when it comes to sex!"

Past the other boys' laughter, Tim's tummy tightened with excitement and anticipation. They were talking about his sex life... And they didn't even know he could hear it all.

"Is there such a thing?" Dick teased, his tone sweet and somehow too innocent for the conversation.

"Good point!" Jason's voice was light and easy, and Tim could imagine the smug smirk that looked just way too hot on him... "But yeah... Tim's like- he's everything, in bed, y'know? God, he's just-"

And then Jason released the most primal, passionate groan Tim have ever heard from him. Tim blinked back in surprised arousal. Still, he leant closer to the wall, listening in closely.

"Okay, okay! Don't give yourself an aneurism!" Dick laughed, and Tim could just imagine Jason blushing (in that perfect way he did when he hoped no one would notice).

"Shut up!" The yelp of displeasure jumped out of Dick as Jason obviously punched him on the arm in protest to his big brother's teasing.

"Relax!" Dick forced through his laughter. "It's nice to see you two... Getting along."

"Holy shit, I know." Jason sighed happily. "Seriously, Dick, you have no idea what the kid does to me. And when he struts around the apartment in just my shirt - pretending he doesn't know I'm definitely watching - he has thighs to kill! Like seriously! His legs could literally destroy a man!"

"They probably have in the past! He gets that from me!" Dick noted proudly, but Tim was too busy just totally swooning to listen. Jason liked his legs? Despite their ongoing relationship, Tim still found it unbelievable that someone a hot at Jason could even want to take a glance at him that way. Let alone actually find him attractive!

"You're such an ass!" Jason's laughter snapped Tim from euphoric enjoyment of listening in on his brothers' private thoughts. "And I gotta get going! He's probably waiting for me!"

"Shit!" Tim hissed under his breath, ducking away from the wall and quick-shuffling to the desk. Falling against the chair slightly as his tried to sit, he jolted his sling-ed arm and yowled out in pain.

"Woah, babe!" Tim started at Jason's sudden appearance beside him. "Careful with yourself, you dingus! What are you even still doing here?"

"Oh, Umm!" Tim bit his lip, temporarily forgetting that he actually did have a genuine reason for being here. "Yes! DNA profiling! For Bruce!"

Tim threw a terrible attempt of a sincere expression over his shoulder, just in time to catch Jason and Dick's shared smirk...

-----

The second time Tim struck gold (and by gold, he meant watching in on something slightly more explicit than just Jason flipping a gun and revving a bike) came two weeks after the stretch session incident. It was Tim's final week being essentially grounded, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't getting super restless about being benched at this point. But it hadn't been too difficult to drag his mind away from moping when he caught sight of Jason's patrol route that evening.

His boyfriend really seemed to be enjoying his night out in Gotham. Every move he made was somehow even more smooth and clean than usual, and Tim could tell from the satisfied laughter that punctuated eat hit that Jason knew it, too.

Tim was entranced, totally spellbound by Jason's pleasure in his own skill. The smugness in his body language made Tim shiver with a sense of sensual familiarity. It was the same sort of smug as that that was in the smirks Jason would throw him when they'd fool around and Jason just knew whatever he was doing was getting to Tim. It was Tim's favourite kind of smugness...

But just as Tim was getting to enjoy himself - like, really enjoy himself - watching Jason take on three gang thugs at once, it was suddenly all over, and Jay had them all easily taken out. Tim pouted a little at this, disappointed that the show he'd been enjoying so very much had apparently ended, and moved to switch screens, maybe replay the last few minutes just to finish getting off to...

But then he noticed the urgency in Jason's step as he slipped out of view of the camera Tim was currently working from, into a shadowed alleyway, and Tim quickly snapped his feed to Jason's in-helmet surveillance.

Jason had his head tipped back, looking up at the night sky, the camera stable enough that Tim could figure out he was obviously lent back against a wall. It was then that Tim noticed the heavy breathing coming from Jason's mic.

Suddenly concerned his partner might be hurt, Tim grabbed frantically for the earpiece mic he'd earlier shut off and shoved across the desk. Clumsily fumbling the buttons, he opened his mouth to desperately demand Red Hood's status when he was cut off but the lewdest moan he'd ever heard Jason make.

He dropped the mic and stared at the screens in front of him, more - now explicitly sexual - groans following the first. His cheeks flushed a dark pink as he frantically searched for any nearby shops or buildings that had any CCTV he could get into nearby. Within a minute, he was messily typing in code to take ownership of a camera that he could turn directly to Jason's position and-

He fell back into his chair heavily, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. No fucking way was he this lucky. No. Way. He flicked the keyboard to zoom in - to be certain. And - yes - that was definitely Jason Todd palming his cock through his uniform, halfway down a dingy alley. Tim Drake had to be dead, 'cause this was heaven.

Tim returned his own hand to his cock at this sight, though he was totally unsure of how he could last very long at this rate. He was drowning in the sounds of Jason's pretty gasps and moans as it was, but the moment Jason cautiously flicked his head from side to side to check nobody could see him, Tim was gone. Far too surrounded by the satisfaction of getting this private show to last any longer...

-----

Tim felt a little sentimental on his last night stuck in the cave. He spent the evening spinning on his chair, watching the tiny figures hop across the monitor screens, and somehow managing not to get turned on by every little movement Jason Todd made. He knew he'd was set to go back on patrol tomorrow, so he was really making the most of getting to play Oracle one last time. Despite how easily he'd gotten distracted recently, and how frustrating it was to be grounded, he really did enjoy the 'clever-guy surveillance job'. And so, he totally revelled in his last night on the job, feeling suitably like Q from the James Bond films he'd watch with Dick on the weekends.

All in all, it was a clean, successful evening in Gotham - perfectly mundane, by all accounts (and maybe he was a little disappointed at that). And every was back in the cave, safe, fairly early that night (bar Jason, who chose instead to go straight home and skip Bruce's compulsory, post-patrol briefing), Bruce subtly ruffling Tim's hair and telling him to get to bed, before they all left him alone to shut off the monitors.

As usual when Jason bailed pre-briefing, Tim set to checking the surveillance in he and Jason’s go-to safe house to ensure he got home alright. Mindlessly clicking through the cameras in each room searching for Jay’s presence, Tim considered whether he’d bother to pop across tonight. Jason would probably be tired after patrol and he really wasn’t sure if it was worth it. And then he was checking Jason’s bedroom and choking on his coffee. Because – he noted as he, once more, wondered how in hell he got this lucky – Jason was totally lay back on his bed; half undressed; one hand balled up in the spare cape Tim had left in the safe house, pushed to his lip; the other moving tight and fast around his cock.

Tim outwardly gasped at the sight, as he whipped his head around to check everyone was definitely out of the cave, before settling his wide eyes back on the screen. Slipping his head set on, he flicked up the volume and settled back into his seat. Every gasp from Jason’s lips went straight to his cock and sent thrilled shivers down his spine, but it had nothing on the way his boyfriend groaned his codename out through gritted teeth. Tim’s eyes rolled back as that moment alone almost made him cum in his boxers. He watched, entranced, as Jason twisted Tim’s cape up tighter and tighter around his fist – even through the slightly pixilated feed, Tim could see the fabric straining.

“Fuck… Red Robin…”

Tim let out a squeak of guilt-ridden arousal at the sound of his name from Jason’s lips. He resisted touching himself, because he knew he wouldn’t last if he did. It was all too much – seeing Jason so vulnerable and exposed this way. Attempting to remove his mind from overthinking that point too much, he refocused his eyes on the screen. On Jason.

“Tim…” Jason moaned out again, causing Tim to let his eyes fall closed, “You enjoying- mmm- the show, babe?”

Tim’s eyes snapped open. What?!

“Know you’re there, Timmy…” Jay laughed through his laboured breaths, his fist around his cock slowing just slightly.

Heart racing, Tim flicked on the mic and connected to Jason’s earpiece, “…hi?”

“That all you got to say?” Jason followed up the words with a deep moan and a thrust up into his hand.

“I’m sorry..?” Tim cringed at the way his own voice shook through the words.

Jason released another breathless huff of laughter, “For this time, or all of them?”

He knew? Tim shuddered, caught between humiliated and even more turned on. “All of them..?”

“Here’s the- mmf! -Here’s the deal,” Jay started, “You get here before I cum, you’re forgiven, you lil creep!”

“I- Umm…”

“Now, Tim!” Jason gasped out, and Tim was out of his seat and disconnecting the feed quicker than he’d ever done anything else in the cave ever before…

-----

I hope you liked it. Again, I’m REALLY sorry!

#jaytim secret santa #jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #fanfic #ch; jaybirb #ch; smolbirb #otp; be my robin #shipping-the-posts

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blueflamebird · 6 years

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Jaytim secret santa 2017 pt 2

so i had a second giftee! @sociallyawkwardfoxwriter I love your writing and hopefully this is ok ;-; it was such a hard prompt to write because im terrified of ghosts.

Prompt: ghost jason meets robin tim

rating: general

Tim wasn’t one to believe in supernatural forces.

He liked to use logic and reasoning, science and math, evidence and facts.

Magic, ghosts, demons?

They had none of that.

Well, he knew several aliens, Miss Martian, Superboy, Starfire. He even knew the half demon, Raven. But he personally had no interaction with the supernatural forces, and he was fine with that.

He went through several...weird adventures with the Titans, even with Batman and Nightwing, but they were all solved in a logical way.

So when he started feeling like someone was watching him, or when weird things started happening, he thought he was just being paranoid. Little to no sleep and dealing with psychos like the Joker would do that to a person.

It wasn’t until things escalated, like his files flying everywhere, or his batarangs suddenly flying at him, that Tim finally accepted that maybe he was being haunted.

Even then, Tim didn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t like whatever spirit was doing this was hurting him, just making his job more difficult than it had to be.

So Tim ignored the papers being knocked down, grabbed a spare mask whenever his went missing suddenly, and did the best he could to try and figure out who would haunt him while paying them no mind.

The spirit, Tim begrudgingly admitted to it being a spirit, never followed him out of the cave, and though Tim still felt like he was being watched on missions, nothing supernatural ever happened. Tim wouldn’t admit he was thankful for that.

The Titans seemed to know immediately. Tim didn’t know how, but they knew. Kon and Bart always looked a touch more worried than usual. Raven gave him pointed looks, but said nothing. Gar was always on edge, and seemed anxious around him. Kori told him on multiple occasions he was more than welcome to stay. Tim declined every time, but the worried look she’d give him made Tim wonder when she would finally call Nightwing.

But none of them ever tried to force Tim to talk about it, and for that he was grateful.

Tim was always called a smart kid. He was far more intelligent than most kids his age, and he was already known as the world’s second greatest detective, right after Bruce. So, he did what every ‘normal’ kid his age would have done. He decided to talk to the spirit.

There was a sense of comfort being alone in the batcave to ‘talk to ghosts.’ He would at least hear Alfred or Bruce coming and could always say he was doing work.

With a tentative look towards Jason’s old Robin uniform, scorch marks and everything behind clear glass, Tim called out. “Uh..hello? Are you there?”

There was a pregnant silence. Tim knew he was listening, this wasn’t normal silence. Even the bats were watching, listening, waiting.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is with me, but I’m not here to bother you.”

The silence continued to ring in the Batcave, and the cold sweat that broke out on Tim’s forehead told him that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“I’m...just here to make sure Bruce doesn’t do anything stupid. After Jason died-”

It clicked in his mind. But Tim scrunched his face up, confused. He didn’t know Jason. Sure, he took pictures of him as Robin, but personally he didn’t know anything about him. Jason didn’t know him either. So why would he-

Tim sighed, turning to Jason’s suit, hung up like a memorial in the cave. “I know no one wants me to be here. Dick doesn’t, Bruce doesn’t, and it looks like you don’t want me here either. But...I have to do this. Batman and Robin meant more to me than you could ever imagine. Bruce is beating himself up because of what happened. He’s becoming self destructive and Dick won’t do anything about it. So, I will. And once I’ve served my purpose I’ll leave. But, just know until then, I’m staying. I have to stay. Please understand.”

Tim shivered as he felt a cold breeze behind him, but a quick glance told him no one was there. Maybe the spirit wasn’t listening?

“Master Tim?”

Tim jumped, whirling around to come face to face with Alfred. The butler was looking at him with something akin to worry.

“Are you alright, Master Tim? I heard you speaking.”

Tim stuttered, an embarrassed blush rising to his face at having been caught.

“I uh...yeah. I was just-”

Alfred looked passed Tim to Jason’s uniform, a sad look replacing the worry.

“I see. Master Bruce often does the same. He wallows in his guilt.” Alfred turned to Tim, a pointed look this time. “But perhaps you being here can remind him of why he chose to dawn the cape and cowl. He may seem distant and cold, but he’s just afraid of losing another partner so soon after his previous.”

Tim paused. “But Jason wasn’t just his partner. He was his son.”

Alfred’s eyes turned sad again, even if his tone didn’t betray it. “That he was, Master Tim. Now come along, it’s time for dinner.”

With one last look at the memorial, Tim followed after Alfred. Had he turned around, he would have seen what looked like a person looking up at the memorial as well.

Jason thought death would have been the end of things. He thought he’d see a white light and then nothing.

He was wrong.

He found himself in the manor, watching, but not being able to interact.

He’s tried, oh how he’s tried to call out to them, to touch them.

But he couldn’t.

Instead he had to sit by and watch as this...this pretender all but demanded to be made Robin. As he replaced him as if Jason was nothing more than a fleeting thought.

He was smart, Jason would give him that. He was maybe 2 years younger than him, but already brilliant in a way Jason had to work to be. Jason was book smart, and he was clever. But Tim? Tim was the detective Bruce wanted him and Dick to be.

Jason decided that if he couldn’t be Bruce’s sidekick, no one could. Sure, maybe it was petty, but Jason died and got nothing more than his mask and cape hung up. Hell, it didn’t even look like Dick knew until recently.

Jason didn’t do anything that could seriously hurt the kid. He didn’t hate him enough to stoop that low. He just wanted him to stop being Robin.

But after that one sided conversation in the Batcave, Jason was second guessing his choices.

Tim was right. Jason saw how Bruce was jumping head first into his work, pushing everyone away. But if hurt him to think that he couldn’t help, and had to rely on Tim to do it.

So, he stopped. Well, he didn’t completely stop, he was still a bit petty, but he wasn’t as bad as he was before. Where before it was a matter of trying to get Tim to quit, now it was more of something to keep him occupied and just to be a little shit.

Tim did nothing more than roll his eyes as he had to collect his papers, or sigh as his cape seemed to have disappeared. But he seemed glad that Jason didn’t outright ignore him.

Jason could do without the conversations though.

Tim had taken Jason’s little pranks to be a sign of begrudging acceptance, and while he was right, Jason didn’t want him to be comfortable with the fact. But while Tim rambled away in tales of the Titans, or the night’s mission, Jason listened. There was no way Tim could know for certain that he was listening. With the exception of Raven and Constantine, Jason was pretty much invisible to everyone else. So how could Tim know he was there and still act like they were the best of friends?

It took Jason a minute to realize that Tim simply didn’t have anyone else. While Tim had friends like Kon and Bart, they didn’t understand what it meant to be Robin. They didn’t get the mental and physical torture and exhaustion being Batman’s partner meant.

So Jason listened. Even if Tim didn’t know he was, he did.

Jason slowly saw things change. He saw Dick try to be a better brother to Tim than he was for Jason. And at first, it was another thing that pissed Jason off, but after stumbling upon one of their conversations, Jason realized it was out of guilt. Jason had left half way through the conversation. After all, Dick cared about him enough to beat the Joker to death with his bare hands, he didn’t need to try to get between them.

And as he realized how much he meant to Bruce, Dick, Alfred, and even Tim, Jason found himself at peace. He was loved, finally. But there seemed to be one thing keeping him from moving on.

“Tim.”

Tim’s ramblings and Jason’s thoughts were cut short as Bruce stood in the doorway of his room. Bruce looked around, as if looking for the person Tim was talking to, but found nothing. He raised a single eyebrow before shaking his head, seeming to remember why he was there.

“Tim, tonight you aren’t partrolling with me.”

“Excuse me?” Tim asked. His tone was polite, as if he was just asking Bruce to repeat himself, but his eyes held defiance, a challenge Bruce took in stride.

“Your father is bound to a wheelchair, Tim. He needs you more than Gotham does. Go, I will call Nightwing if i need assistance.”

“Bruce, you can’t do this to me! I need to be out there, I need to-”

“You aren’t thinking straight.” Bruce interrupted, and Jason rolled his eyes as he remembered all those times Bruce was more Batman than Bruce. “Anger is clouding your judgement. I know you want revenge but it will not end well if you go after Captain Boomerang. There is a line you don’t cross. I’ve already experienced one sidekick crossing that line out of emotion, I don’t need another.”

Tim knew where this was going, and it filled him with an unexpected wave of anger. Grabbing his coat, he angrily shoved his hands into the sleeves.

“I’m not your son, I’m your partner. I think I’ve done enough to deserve some respect.” Tim all but pushed Bruce aside as he stormed out of the room. Tim paused, turning to Bruce. “Oh, and that night with Felipe Garzonasa? Jason didn’t push him. I’d know, I was there.”

With that, Tim stormed out. As he yanked the front door open, he could have sworn he felt something warm on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” Tim mumbled, as he left Wayne manor.

Jason couldn’t bring himself to hate Tim. His initial anger now seemed childish, petty. He didn’t know Tim then, but as he learned more about the kid who took over Robin for him, the more he found himself interested in him.

Could ghosts fall in love? Jason didn’t need to eat, or sleep, but he could still feel emotions. That had to explain the protective feeling he had whenever Tim came home with so much as a scratch, or when Tim crawled into bed and silently trembled as he tried to sleep.

This didn’t compare to how he felt though, watching as Tim holed himself in his room, bawling his eyes out as he mourned his father.

And Jason could do nothing but watch.

“He’s dead, and it’s all my fault.”

Tim kept saying this, and Jason wanted so badly to tell him he was wrong, to tell him he was as much as a victim as Jason was, that the cape and mask just made them targets.

But he couldn’t, because he was dead.

When Tim finally exhausted himself to the point of drifting off, Jason put his ghost skills to work and gently covered him with a blanket.

Jason was a ghost, he couldn’t feel, but how would he explain the warmth that went through him when Tim sleepily mumbled “Thanks Jason,” then?

Jason was gone.

Tim just knew. He was gone.

He couldn’t feel him anymore. It was hard to explain how he knew, but he knew.

Did he move on? Was he at peace?

Tim felt guilty for feeling a bit bitter. Now Jason was probably in a better place, and here he was being angry for feeling left alone.

Tim sighed, pushing the thoughts out of his head as he looked up to the bat computer. It had been some years since he first decided to seek out the bat. Jason’s spirit had become such a crucial part. Who would understand now? Who would he talk to without feeling judged?

The thoughts were once again pushed out of his head as a ping appeared on the bat computer. It took Tim just a few clicks before that ping became a location.

Crime Alley?

Nightwing was busy in Bludhaven, and Bruce was off planet on League business.

That just left him.

Snapping his cape into place and slipping on his mask, Tim was just a little annoyed. Who was making trouble when he wanted to just brood and sulk?

Ugh, he sounded like Bruce.

Tim shot his grapple hook, flying and gliding to the location. He knew this could very well be a trap, but his instincts told him it probably wasn’t. Gotham had been silent since the Joker and most of the other Rogues were in Arkham, no doubt planning their next escape.

Tim sighed, a never ending war, this was.

“Tim.”

Tim whirled around, batarang in hand and ready when a figure stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, and built. He had a red helmet over his head, and dressed head to toe in armor, as if he was a vigilante himself.

Slowly, the stranger reached up to press a button behind his helmet. It loosened with a soft click, and he pulled it off.

Tim felt the breath leave him.

In front of him, the man grinned, a crooked grin that was unfairly attractive, blue eyes crinkling in mirth.

“Long time no see, baby bird.”

The voice was deep and Tim had to resist the urge to shudder. Instead he grinned back.

“Nice to finally see you, Jason.”

#jaytim #jaytim secret santa #jtsecretsanta #blueflamebird writes

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noir-wing · 6 years

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Here’s my @jaytimsecretsanta gift for @write-my-dreams. Sorry it’s not exactly what you asked for! I didn't think I'd be able to do canon justice since I've been out of touch from it for so long, so I wrote an AU. I hope you like it!!

Rating: Teen

Summary: Tim is an art student who always admires the guy sitting in the hallway outside his class. What he doesn't expect is Jason being asked to model.

#jaytim #jaytim fanfic #jaytim secret santa #jason todd #Tim Drake #min writes

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redrobinfection · 5 years

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Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

AN: This fic is a gift to @chibinightowl for the 2018 JayTim Secret Santa Exchange. It represents a small portion of a much larger AU developed for the prompt "Pirate Captain Jason and Privateer Captain Tim chasing each other around ocean and ending up marooned together"… maybe someday chibi_nightowl and I will share the rest with everyone else ;)

---

A stiff wind beats against their ship, sending chilly spray up over the bow and into the faces of his haggard crew. Captain Timothy Drake bears the sharp gust and biting spray with grim equanimity.

"Captain, please! This is our thirtieth watch since we began this hellish grind and if we stay on this heading, we'll run right into those storms brewing right o'er the horizon. Let us break off and seek calmer seas."

Stephanie's - his navigator - words roar around him like the sea, but he doesn't yield anymore to her than he does to the roughening surf. He knows a storm is brewing - he can smell it, feel it even - but he doesn't care. His eyes are fixed on a hazy smudge on the horizon, his target of nearly eight days now, and he'll be damned if he lets it go. Not now. Not after so long…

"Cassie, please, you know I speak sense! Help, me convince him!"

Tim feels a light touch on his arm and turns to his first mate, the fierce Cassandra Sandsmark, who is peering into his face with equal parts concern and steely resolve.

"Tim, I agree with Stephanie on this. Our crew is lagging, the winds are rising, and if we don't turn back soon we'll likely be caught out in this storm. We weren't equipped for a jaunt much longer than a few days and we aren't rigged for open water. We've given those pirates a good run of it, but time and fortune are against us now. We need to turn back."

He frowns. "Re-rig the ship and begin tying down loose articles, but we won't turn back until they do. We'll smash these bastards between our hull and the storm if we have to. Those are your orders," he reiterates firmly, eyeing both of them sternly. Cassie tsks in exasperation and Steph scrubs her hands through her hair with a sound of frustration. Conner Kent and Bartholomew Allen, two more of his trusted lieutenants look up from across the ship in concern and curiosity.

"Captain, really, the crew is-

"These seas will tear us to flots-

"Enough!" Tim cuts across them, tearing his eyes away from his target to stare them down. "I hear your concerns and, as always, I appreciate your candor, but my decision stands. Maintain visual contact and move to intercept at best possible speed."

Cassie and Steph share a look, but in the end, they are still his best and truest. They salute him crisply for the whole crew to see. "Aye, Captain!" Cassie immediately turns to the crew and begins issuing orders to adjust the rigging, but Steph hangs back.

"If I may speak freely-" Steph begins in a low voice.

"I doubt you'd hold back even if I asked," Tim replies drily.

"-and as your friend," she continues, her acknowledging grin still tinged with worry, "the crew would feel a whole lot better about this rough haul if we knew what was so important about this one measly ship." She sighs and tilts her head back, rolling one shoulder. "Every person on this ship trusts you with their life and would follow you into hell itself, but it's not often you to lead us on in the dark. The crew is antsy, tired, confused, unmotivated..."

Tim opens his mouth but Steph presses on, turning to fix him with the full force of her icy blue stare. "They see a fire in your eyes and wait for you to light it in their hearts, but instead you keep your reasons to yourself and lead us on this wild goose chase, into a storm, in open water, and all for what?"

"Steph-"

"Hell, even I'm feeling a touch flighty, not knowing if you'll sacrifice us to Davy Jones just to catch a single ship and ne'er e’en tell us what's worth more'n our lives to-"

"Steph!" Tim finally bellows, shaking his head and turning her away from the crew. She colors but holds his gaze. He sighs and leans in.

"The man on that boat wearing the captain's tricorner, he's the reason I came to Bristol," Tim tells her quietly. Steph's eyes widen.

"Wait. He's the one that…"

"Aye, the very one."

Steph covers her mouth with one hand and stares over Tim's shoulder toward the ship in the distance. "No… are you sure?"

"Completely. And even if I wasn't, that ship flies known pirate colors; as privateers in service of the crown, we'd chase them down for entering crown territory in any case. But…" he trails off and his eyes harden. "I'm sure, Steph."

Steph's gaze hardens as well and a spark of something fierce and wild - the very spark that caught his eye back when he first put together his privateer crew back in Bristol - lights up her eyes. "In that case we'll have to prepare a proper 'thank you' for him, eh?" Steph cracks her knuckles and grins savagely. Tim shakes his head fondly. "May I share this news with the crew?" she asks him beseechingly. "They'll be wanting to share their 'thanks' with this bastard as well, I'd imagine."

Tim hesitates, but nods stiffly. "Aye, but keep it brief. They don't need my whole bloody life story, Stephanie."

"Aye, Captain," she replies with a jaunty salute that barely disguises the rage behind her eyes as she turns to the crew and begins to walk the length of the ship, calling out in a loud voice, "Okay, listen up you sorry lot, we've got a grand personage on that boat up ahead-"

Heads come up and eyes turn toward her while Tim does his best to tune out her voice. He turns his gaze back to the ship in the distance.

"-that very cur that once tried his damnedest to betray and murder our esteemed captain-"

A distant part of him can feel his crew's eyes on him, but his mind is elsewhere, imagining a face, imagining the look on it when they overtake that ship, board it, then sink it to the depths.

"-one Jason bloody Todd, scourge of the Caribbean, and foulest among pirates! I expect you all to give him your 'warmest regards'-"

Murmurs rise among the crew, heads nodding. Cassie looks surprised and furious, but she turns her fury toward the horizon. In the background, Conner's face takes on a dark cast and Bart cracks his knuckles with a wicked grin.

"-so what say you, crew of the Red Robin? You ready to catch this sonofabitch and send his sorry excuse of a ship down to the murky deep?"

"Aye!"

Tim smiles grimly into the biting wind and imagines the face of one Jason Peter Todd in the moment he gets his long-overdue comeuppance.

"All hands on deck for best available speed and make preparations to board!"

"Aye!"

He smiles and looks in grim satisfaction to the storm ahead.

~*~

"Jason? Jason! Damn you to the depths, Jason Todd! Listen to me when I talk!"

Jason nods absently, his eyes fixed on a slip of a ship far off to their stern. "I hear you, Roy…"

"But you don't listen!" Roy bites back, stepping between Jason and his view of the tailing ship. Roy frowns. "All you want to do is stare dreamily back at that damned ship and mutter to yourself. You're lucky Kori has her wits about her or they would have caught us naught but five minutes out of port."

"I can't believe it, Roy, it's him, it's really him..."

Roy, his third-in-command, rolls his eyes. "You keep saying that, but who is 'him'? Who is on that ship that has you so moony you would've about thrown yourself under their keel if we hadn't hauled you away?"

Jason scowls and rips his eyes away from the horizon. "It's him, Roy. The one I thought I’d…"

"Is that supposed to mean something to- OH," Roy's eyes widen as he remembers a drunken confession Jason made to him over too many brandies all those months ago back when Jason first brought their crew together.

"He's the one you killed while hopped up on Joker's Breath? Back when you tried to take the Batfang out from under ol' Bluebird?"

Jason winces, but nods. "Aye. Him. Tim."

"Tim, huh?" Roy looks uncertain. "Are you sure? You only got a glimpse of him before they raised the alarm and Kori sped us away, thank God in heaven for the good head on her shoulders."

Jason nods and turns his gaze back to the distant ship. "I'd know that face anywhere, Roy. It's him."

Roy rolls his eyes again. "Okay… well, I guess you didn't kill him after all, but considering the fuss he's put up trying to run us down, I can't imagine he's all too happy over the attempt."

"I don't care," Jason says. "He's alive. I could sing, Roy. My God, he's alive…" He runs his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, teasing it into wild, unkempt spikes.

"Yes," Roy responds flatly. "Actually, it's been eight days, Jason, how has this not sunk in yet?"

"He's really alive…"

Roy closes his eyes and tips his head back, groaning. He crosses himself. "God in heaven, preserve us…"

"Save some of those prayers for the hours to come, Roy Harper. We'll be needing them once this storm breaks," First Mate Kori Anders tells him as she approaches from behind.

"They must be suicidal following us into this storm," Roy comments wryly.

"A trait we clearly share, since we're headed into it ourselves!" their helmswoman Artemis calls back over her shoulder.

"Aye, but you'd have thought they'd've turned back by now," Roy muses, rubbing his chin. “It was a mad plan, but it should’ve worked a charm...”

"Never underestimate the lengths to which a pirate - former or otherwise - will go to set to rights a wrong committed against them," Kori comments blithely, pulling out her looking glass. She sighs after a moment and turns to Jason.

"Captain, there is nothing for it. We cannot outrun them and we are vastly outgunned. We must come about and bring the fight to them, on our own terms."

Jason nods. "No more running. I need to see him, one more time..."

Roy makes a sound of disgust as Kori frowns in confusion. "You're missing the point, Captain Todd. We're not planning to turn around to kiss your lover on the cheek. That man is after our blood; we need to make a stand, draw first blood and drive them off," he reminds him.

Jason finally turns his full attention on Roy, a blotchy flush rising on his cheeks. "He was not my lover, not after… No, we don't take the offensive today." Roy begins to interrupt him, but Jason persists, eyes taking on a grim cast.

"He's not after our blood, he's after mine," Jason tells them firmly. "I'll… I will speak with him. We will work this out." Kori and Roy raise their eyebrows, but wisely told their tongues. "We will defend ourselves, but we will not draw first blood. That is an order. Is that understood?"

Roy and Kori stiffen under his unyielding stare, their doubt and uncertainty yielding to trust borne of long partnership and camaraderie. "Aye, Captain."

"Come about! One-eighty to stern. Ready the sweeps and prepare arms! We fight to defend only, by strict order of the captain himself! Prepare for hard sprint at the word!" Kori orders the crew in a booming voice. Jason turns back to staring across the waves toward their shadow. Roy scrubs a hand across his face in exhaustion then hurries to help the crew prepare their vessel for the rough stretch ahead. Artemis and the rest of the crew of the Red Hood look around at each other uneasily, but comply without hesitation.

"Aye!"

~*~

"Tim, I'm so relieved you're alive! I don't even have the words to express how glad-"

"Save your breath, Jason!" Tim yells back hoarsely, fighting to be heard over the howl of wind and rain and pounding seas around them. He strikes out at Jason wildly, recklessly, forcing Jason closer to the edge of the steeply rolling deck.

They slide around on the slick planks and tumble over loose detritus in a frenzied dance, Tim striking out violently while Jason attempts to talk him down from his rage. Around them the crews mirror their fight, Tim's crew attacking with a vengeance while Jason's fight just to hold them at bay. Truthfully, it was all they could manage in any case, outnumbered as they were by Tim's privateers.

Kori's plan to turn back fast and hard and surprise Tim's crew worked a charm. They'd been taken off-guard so badly when the Red Hood had suddenly appeared out of nowhere on leeward side that they'd hadn't the time to run out their long guns and had instead begun immediate boarding, just as Jason and Kori had hoped. Unfortunately, the storm that had been brewing around them also arrived to the fight not long after they, and now it tossed their ships around like toys, threatening to take them both to the crushing deep for their troubles.

"Tim, I'm so, so sorry! I never meant-" Jason bellows over the wind, dodging another wide swing of Tim's staff.

"Shut up! Shut up and fight me, you arsehole! I don't want to hear your false apologies!" Tim howls back, launching himself heedlessly across the deck of his ship to strike again. "You. Tried. To. KILL! ME!" he pants out, his face livid in the sporadic flashes of lightning. "You. Ungrateful. Hog-brained. Ill-begotten. Betraying. Piece of filth! Fight back, you spavined cur! FIGHT MEEEEE!"

Jason lets Tim dart in close and rap him smartly across his side, but the younger pulls his blow almost immediately, looking all the more enraged for Jason having allowed the hit. Jason shakes his head, sending rain and seawater flying from his sodden hair. "I killed you, Tim, I watched you die and I'll never forgive myself! Never! I'm sorry, so sor-"

"LIAR!"

They both stagger as the ships lurch, and a sudden cry of fear rising from many mouths turns their heads to stare in horror at the massive swell rumbling toward the linked ships. Calls from both crews to pull back gangplanks, cut loose, and brace for impact are faint under the roar of the sea, but there is no way they can be ready in time.

Jason sees his chance and scrambles across a plank just before two of his crew push it off their rail, safely alighting on the deck of his own boat. He hears a cry and turns, eyes widening in horror as he watches Tim go down with the plank, eyes fixed on Jason's, one a hand still reaching out as if to snag his coattails and drag him down with him. He watches in slow motion as the back end of the plank rises while the other drops, striking Tim hard on the back of his head. Cries of alarm rise from some of Tim's crew as their captain goes limp and plummets like a stone into the inky surf. Jason moves without thinking, the roar of the sea and the screams of their crews dropping away as his world narrows down to a single point: Tim.

He dives headfirst into the gulf between their ships and lets the current take him. He searches wildly in the pitch black with his rapidly numbing limbs and nearly gasps in relief when his legs strike a large mass. He twists and turns, finally snagging an arm just before a wave flips them head-over-heels. He tugs the body close, wraps all four of his limbs around it while praying that it is, in fact, Tim, and waits for a lull.

His lungs are burning by the time he finds a chance to rise, slinging one arm around Tim while he uses the other to scrabble for the surface. They reach air just in time for him to suck in a quick breath before another wave pushes them down once more. A bolt of lightning illuminates a piece of flotsam that washes over them and Jason seizes it, hauling the body up and onto it in the next lull. Another flash reveals Tim's slack face and their two boats disappearing into the storm.

Not ideal, but he'll take any good fortune he can get along with the bad. There was no way their boats would be able to get to them in these rolling seas, anyway. They would all have to ride this out and see where they end up in the morning.

Jason turns Tim onto his side and thumps between his shoulder blades, breathing a shaky sigh of relief when he feels coughing. He climbs up beside Tim, throws an arm and leg over him, and braces himself to hang on for the both of them, for as long as it takes, until they ride out this storm.

~*~

Tim wakes slowly, the smell of wood smoke registering first, then the unpleasant, sticky-gritty feeling of taking an unplanned bath in seawater…

His eyes snap open and he lurches upright with a strangled gasp that dissolves into coughing. His throat feels awful and it stands to reason he might have swallowed a good portion of that seawater he bathed in, but he's currently coming up blank on why or how that might have occurred. That's fine; he's woken up this way more than once in his time as a pirate, and then later, as a privateer. One of many workplace hazards. It'll all come back to him eventually. Or it won't and he'll make due anyway. He always does.

A small sound draws his eyes across the fire to the sight of a man and in an instant it all comes back to him with a burning fury. "YOU!" he bellows, throwing himself at the man, at Jason Todd, nearly setting himself on fire in the process. Jason has the good grace to look guilty before surprise overtakes his features, but Tim is livid at the other things he sees there. Happiness. Affection. Lov-

"Tim! Easy! Take it easy, pajarito! You took a rough tumble and breathed no small amount of seawater before I fished you out last night!" he has the temerity to plead. Tim fumes.

"How dare you! You don't get to call me that anymore, you bloody mutineer!" he wheezes hoarsely, aiming a punch straight for that smug, handsome face that has the gall to look pained at the accusations.

The infuriating man catches his fist in a firm grip, but his shoulders wilt. "No, I don't suppose I do, at that. Tim, I'm so sor-"

"No!" Tim screams, ripping his fist away and launching himself at Jason anew. They tumble back into the sand and Tim rains open handed blows against Jason's ribs, causing him to grunt involuntarily. "I don't care how sorry you are! I don't want to hear it! That doesn't excuse you for conspiring against my friend - your own brother! That doesn't erase the damage you did to him! To us! And I absolutely refuse to let you weasel your way out of this after you stabbed me square in the chest and left me for dead!"

Jason bucks his hips and rolls them, pinning Tim's legs with his weight and pinning each hand with one of his own. Tim wriggles and fights like a man possessed, but Jason holds firm, staring down at Tim with that stupid, pretty, mournful face of his.

"I know I hurt y-

"You were my friend, Jason! My brother! More than a brother!" Tim howls, drowning out that bloody voice. He can't stand it, can't stand to hear it again after all these months, that same voice he hears in his dreams sometimes, whispering friendly quips and sweet nothings before it morphs into the low growl he heard just before he took a knife to a rib, lucky that he took it to a rib and not between them. "You were the closest thing I had to love and you tossed it all away like rubbish! And for what? For some new 'friends' of yours?"

"Tim, I-"

"I hate you! I despise you, and I will take you down for what you did, even if I have to come back from the dead to- hmmnf!"

Jason leans forward and shuts him up with a rough kiss, something so familiar and yet so strange after all that's happened. Tim lets himself go limp and kisses back after a moment, seeing an opportunity. He tells himself he doesn't enjoy the contact - that Jason is as striking as ever, but he doesn't want any part of that anymore - and that he's only letting his body fall back into this familiar rhythm in order to play along, but it messes with his head, nonetheless. Jason pulls back after a moment and stares down at Tim with an expression that is a vision of relief and guilt and joy all rolled into one. He’s beautiful, as always, but Tim isn't falling for that pretty face anymore. Never again, he swears.

"You've already come back from the dead, Tim," Jason tells him softly, easing up on his hands, then lifting one of his own to trace the line of Tim's face. "We both have, and I would gladly die aga-"

Tim uses that chance to flip them and summarily strikes Jason in the temple with his fist, dropping the man instantly. He scrambles off of him and drops back into the sand with a grunt. After a moment to catch his breath, he slowly begins taking in the island around them, studying the trees and the sand and the curve of the beach around them.

It looks... small. Intimate, even. No chance of him disappearing to some secluded corner and pretending he hasn’t just been marooned on an island with the one person he currently hates most in this world. After a moment he tilts his head back and releases a wheezy sigh.

"Well, fuck."

~*~

Jason groans, then attempts to bat away the scratchy object repeatedly nudging his cheek. All he wants to do is roll over and sleep off the awful pounding in his head. He shouldn't have let Roy talk him into having so much of that damn rum, he thinks hazily.

"Wake up, you lunk," a voice off to his right says, the scratchy object nudging with greater insistence.

"Lemme alone, Roy…" Jason begins to grumble until the tone and pitch of that voice registers and he snaps awake. "Tim!"

Tim Drake sits back on his heels with an sullen glare, but proffers a roughly cut half of a coconut that Jason accepts with shaky hands. There is coconut water in the cleaned out shell and suddenly Jason's thirst hits him hard and fast much like the wave that knocked them from their ships did hours ago. His memory of the last day and a half trickles back to him as he gulps down the sweet water gratefully.

"I still can't believe it's really you," Jason admits hoarsely once he catches his breath again.

"Well, it is, and I can't believe you thought it was a good idea to snog me into submission after everything you've already done," Tim replies, pinning him with a sharp look. Jason winces, and sets the coconut down in the sand.

"I'm sorry-"

"I swear, if I hear you say the word sorry one more time…" Tim growls, rolling his eyes in irritation. He sighs, then moves to put the campfire between them. Jason watches him warily. Tim glances over at him then rolls his eyes again.

"Relax, I'm not going to attack you again. For now," he adds with a slit-eyed glare. "I'm still upset with you and no amount of 'sorry's or 'I feel terribly about it' is going to change that, but we can't afford to be fighting each other right now." He gestures to the island around them. "I scouted out our new refuge. We could probably subsist here for weeks, if not months, but it’s a small island and we're all each other has on this sad little spit of land, so, for the time being I propose a truce."

"I agree, heartily," Jason says, clenching his hands together and twisting them, "but I can't live with myself if I don't at least try to amend for some fraction of-"

Tim shakes his head wearily. "I don't want to hear any of it, so don't waste your breath." He gives Jason with a searching look. "Words are cheap, Jason. If you want to prove to me how sorry you are for what you've done, then allow me to take you in to the proper authorities to pay for your crimes."

Jason opens his mouth, but Tim presses on, leaning in intimidatingly. "And know this, Jason Peter Todd: our truce lasts as long as we inhabit this island. As soon as we step off of it, I will spare no expense to bring you to justice. I'll chase you to world's end if need be. I swear on it."

Jason nods, feeling the burden of their shared past weighing heavily on him as replies. "I will."

Tim tilts his head in confusion. "What?"

"I accept your offer of escort to the ruling authorities of any port of your choosing, and I will readily give myself over to suffer whatever punishment they decree in the name of justice," Jason tells him, leaning in to meet Tim stare for stare. "I will never forgive myself for what I did to you - and to Dick - but if it puts your soul at ease, then I will gladly welcome whatever punishment is due to me under the eyes of the law."

Tim stares. "Jason… you'll hang for piracy," he states plainly.

"If that makes amends to you, even in the smallest bit, then I'll go to the gallows gladly," Jason replies, just as plainly.

Tim's eyes widen and his face pales under a slight flush of sunburn. He takes a moment to collect himself and Jason welcomes it, taking the opportunity to drink in the sight of Tim like a man dying of thirst.

Words are cheap, as Tim says, but Jason knows to the depths of his soul that he would go to the gallows happily just so long as Tim's face is his last sight on earth. After too many months of dreams, nay, nightmares that begin with kissing Tim and end with a knife lodged in Tim's chest, there is nothing more beautiful to Jason than the sight of Tim alive and well. Every moment he stares, even the moments of baleful glares and raised voices, feel like rain on parched earth, a balm for his burned and battered soul. He'll take soul-searing fire all day, any day over the horror and betrayal he sees in Tim's pretty ocean-blue eyes every night.

Eventually, Tim clears his throat, studying his woven fingers intently. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd… in all my dreams of this day, I'd pictured confronting you, imagined hauling you away, sometimes imagined keelhauling you or locking you away in my brig to rot, but... I don't think I've ever imagined you actually going to the noose." He glances up, showing Jason his first glimpse vulnerability in what feels like lifetimes. "If you did, I think I'd lose a part of myself on that noose…"

He trails off, deflates with a sigh, then scoots around the campfire until they're sitting roughly side by side. Jason could reach out a hand and touch his arm - he wants to, desperately, if only to confirm Tim’s real and this isn't just another dream - but he holds himself back.

"Explain."

Jason tilts his head and raises a brow in confusion.

"Explain to me what happened," Tim clarifies. "All these months, I've nursed my wounds and my wounded pride, but what really rankled most was never understanding why." The pain and betrayal Jason recalls in his dreams every night shines in Tim's eyes now, and he can't stand to see it, but he refuses to tear his eyes away, punishing himself with the sight of it.

"Why did you turn on Dick?” Tim demands. “Why did you stab me in the chest for something as silly as a Captain's mantle? What did those strange new friends of yours offer you to convince you to betray everything you'd worked for your entire life?"

Jason shakes his head. "They didn't offer; they poisoned," he corrected in a low voice. He plucks a long palm frond from their meager fire and stirs the glowing coals, picking his words wisely.

"Joker's Breath" - Tim's eyes widen in horrified understanding - "was what they offered, and I was fool enough to give in to their wheedling the second night after you'd left to scout ahead. One time was all it took to snag me in their web. By the time you came back…" Jason trails off, shaking his head and refusing to continue. It didn't matter why he did it, it only mattered that he did and he regretted every bit of it with every ounce of his soul.

"Explain," Tim demands again, eyes shining like blue steel in the firelight.

"All that matters is that I was a blasted, naïve fool for letting that riffraff pressure me into taking their poison, and then for letting it consume my every thought thereafter until Dick threw me into the brig to sweat it out," Jason tells him. "Everything that followed that moment of weakness was entirely my fault, and I will never forgive myself for a single bit of it. Never."

Tim lets out a long breath before he speaks again, slowly, as if he is choosing his words very deliberately. "Whether you forgive yourself is your affair, but if I am ever to forgive you - and a large part of me sorely wants to, if only for the benefit of my own peace and sanity - then I need to understand what happened."

He leans in close, catching Jason's gaze. "I need to hear your side of this. You may be surprised to hear it, but I, well…" - a blush darkens the redness in his cheeks and he fidgets but holds Jason's gaze doggedly - "As much as I was infuriated and confused and hurt by what happened that day, I still missed you."

Jason blinks in surprise and Tim nods to himself. "I still love you, despite it all,” Tim admits, “and not understanding how you could do this to me - to all of us - has made that love nothing but a terrible ache in my soul."

"You.. I…" Jason swallows, struggling. "I did all those terrible things and still you have it within you to love me?" he gasps incredulously.

"Yes, but love is funny, Jason. Never doubt for a moment that I also hate you just as much," Tim informs him bluntly. He narrows his eyes and points a finger into Jason's face threateningly. "I wasn't kidding about despising you. I despise what you did and I despise you…"

Jason gapes, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"…but I can't stop loving who you were - who you may still be, somewhere deep down in that muddied soul of yours - and that is just the way it is," Tim concludes with a nod of finality.

Jason closes his mouth and lets out a long breath of his own. "So… you really want to hear my side of things? You're sure?"

The tension drains out of Tim's shoulders and he rolls them once before shooting him the ghost of a grin Jason knows all too well. "Please," he asks, his gentle tone at odds with the challenge in his expression, playfully daring Jason to defy him and see what happens. A marriage of steel and grace, Tim's hallmark style.

As if Jason would ever dare to defy this man's wishes. He scrubs a hand through his salt-sticky hair and drops the tension from his own shoulders, settling himself down before the long, anxious tale ahead. "Well, going back to where it all started, not long after you left on that ill-fated scouting trip…"

#my writing #christmasriverswrites #jaytim #chibinightowl #jaytimsecretsanta #jtsse 2018 #pirate!jason #privateer!tim #pirate au #swore I'd never write a pirate au but i leapt at the change to fill this prompt so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#tw mention of drugs

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chibinightowl · 5 years

Note

1) Concept: 1800s pirate/mercenary Jason stops at port in Gotham and hears word that nobleman Jack Drake is offering large sum of gold to whoever the hell would suffer through marriage to his eccentric son Timothy. Jason’s like heck yeah free money with and goes to strike a deal with Jack but oh #%$@€

2) but he’s already signed the marriage contract and he’s gotta take him to live on the pirate ship with horny pirates but he’s falling in love and this is no way for a pretty noble boy to live and and and TL;DR; how Timothy Drake is coerced into marriage with a lawless pirate scumbag and turns the entire ship of cutthroat sea dogs into gentlemen and he and Jason become feared pirate kings

~*~

Love this idea, anon! However, I’m partnering with @redrobinfection on a JayTim Pirate!AU set in the world they created in the fic Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. This was a Christmas gift as part of the JayTim Secret Santa Exchange and I must say, I’ve never been gifted with an entire new world to play in! Once the stars (and our crazy schedules) align, we’ll hash out more.

What’s also funny is that @jaykore and I have plotted out a completely different Pirate!AU, one where Tim is the pirate and Jason is the naval officer who can never quite keep the slippery pirate in his hands for very long.

It’s so much fun to see all we all have pirates on the brain! Feel free to PM me if you want to chat about this idea some more.

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sociallyawkwardfoxwriter · 5 years

Text

Write for 365: Day 357

Winter JayTim Part Three

Despite trying to fall back asleep, no amount of lying there with his eyes closed would convince his mind to shut off again. Of course, that didn't mean he planned on leaving the comfort of his bed anytime soon. It didn't matter their were presents under the tree in the living room waiting for them or that a hunger was beginning to gnaw at his stomach. Being wrapped up in the comforter with his body pressed up against the warmth of another felt too amazing to even consider leaving.

The sudden removal of the arm around his waist had him letting out a loud whine of disapproval as he clutched tighter to the shirt bunched in his fingers. A chuckle rumbled through Jason's chest causing his head to move along to the vibration of his laughter. In retaliation, he pinched his side just hard enough to hurt a tiny bit, so he wouldn't have to lift his head. When the arm returned to his waist, he started to snuggle back in, but immediately jerked away as fingers started tickling his side.

While he glared at Jason for ruining their peaceful morning, another round of laughter rippled through him. “You're the worst. The absolute worst.”

“It's time to get up.”

“I don't want to.”

“You don't want to know what Santa got you?” Jason rolled over to face with his head propped on his head, so he could look down at him. “I bet it's something good. Word has it you've been a good boy this year.”

“How would you know? Did Santa tell you last night when he stopped by?”

“Well, he probably wouldn't mind me telling you this, but Santa and I are pretty close. We only get a chance to talk once a year, so it's always a special conversation.”

After finally deciding to roll out of bed, he let out a snort on the way to the bathroom at Jason's ridiculous statements. “I'm sure it was. You'll have to tell me all about it while I have my coffee.”

“Normally I would, but our conversations are very hush hush. I'm sure you understand. I can't even tell you.”

“How silly of me! Obviously, a conversation between you and Santa would be a secret.”

“It's because you haven't had your coffee yet.”

Instead of responding, he rolled his eyes as he turned his attention to his toothbrush. He busied himself with his morning routine while he listened to the sound of Jason getting out of bed. While he bent down to sip out the toothpaste, a pair of arms wrapped around him and tugged him back when he finished.

“Let me go. I'm not done getting ready.”

“Can't I kiss you good morning?”

“No.” He pried the hands off of him, then slipped around Jason as he gave him a pat on the chest. “You're the one that woke me up. You can wait, until I've had my coffee and opened my presents.”

“That's just cruel.”

“So was waking me up on my one day off.”

“You were already awake!”

“Not that you can prove. Now, get dressed. You know I'm not patient. I'll start without you.”

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Write for 365 Collection

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#write for 365 #dc comics #jaytim #tim drake #jason todd #winter #fluff #not edited #fanfic

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ao3feed-jaytim · 5 years

Text

two worlds

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2SIOPf6

by barrybinary

Tim Drake is a nephilim, a child of an angel and a human.

Jason Todd is something Tim doesn't know.

Words: 5856, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: DCU

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne (Background)

Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Nephilim, Demons, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, JayTim Secret Santa

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2SIOPf6

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #jaytim #batman (comics)#dcu

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ao3feed-timdrake · 5 years

Text

two worlds

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2SIOPf6

by barrybinary

Tim Drake is a nephilim, a child of an angel and a human.

Jason Todd is something Tim can't figure out.

Words: 5856, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: DCU

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne (Background)

Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Nephilim, Demons, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, JayTim Secret Santa

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2SIOPf6

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #DC #DC comics #Tim Drake #Batman #teen titans #young justice

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jaytimsecretsanta · 6 years

Text

Countdown to Posting!

Only 4 days left until posting starts! (At least from where I’m at. Time-zones and all)

If you haven’t taken a gander at the posting instructions yet, you can find those here!

I hope everyone is excited and finishing up your projects as needed. I’m looking forward to the start of the exchange.

If y’all have any questions or comments, remember that my messenger/ask is always open. No question is dumb and I promise you won’t be bugging/annoying me. I’m here to help. ^.^

#jaytim #jaytimss #jaytim secret santa #mod updates #countdown to posting #only 4 days to go

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tothemaxie · 7 years

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Omg, just got my @jaytimsecretsanta assignment for this year and it's SO GOOD! I'm hype for this one, boys. 😎

#jaytim #jaytim secret santa #shipping-the-posts

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blueflamebird · 6 years

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Jaytim Secret Santa 2017

My secret santa was @ignomines !! Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I hope you like it!

prompt: “Why are you helping me”

rating: general

This had all started when Jason found Tim.

Tim was locked in a cell, Red Robin armor still cut up and bloody, face healing from its swells, obviously malnourished.

And despite all this, Tim’s eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, were still every bit as determined and intelligent and hopeful as Jason can remember seeing them.

Tim had looked Jason right in the eye, daring him to make a move. Those intelligent blue eyes seemed to have known Jason’s move before he made it.

It was confirmed when Bizarro ripped the lock off the cell and Tim didn’t flinch, didn’t remove his gaze from Jason’s.

There was a long pause, both Robins waiting for the other to make a move, analyzing each other before Tim slowly rose from his spot.

Tim walked out of his cell, only a slight limp to show for his troubles, walking right up to Jason so they were face to face.

Again, they were all silent before Tim once again broke it.

“It’s about time, Hood.”

Jason snorted, and just like that the tension in the room melted. Tim walked past Jason, towards the door the Outlaws had busted open as Jason tilted his head to watch him go.

“Huh, he certainly is something. I like him already.” Artemis supplied. Jason rolled his eyes under his hood, shaking his head and following Tim out the door.

Jason watched as Tim led the way out, seeming to already know the twists and turns of the place. He contemplated calling Bruce, but decided against it. He knew, in good conscious, he should. But if Tim, right now, was anything like how Jason was when he first returned from his little vacation from life, Tim needed someone to ground him, someone who wasn’t the man who let him down.

Jason would gladly volunteer.

“Am Small Him ok?” Bizarro asked, cautiously watching Tim, who slipped on his mask and was every bit of the Red Robin persona at the moment.

“I don’t know yet. You see anything broken on the inside, big man?” Jason asked Bizarro quietly.

Bizarro shook his head. “Me can’t see anything.”

Lead-lined suit, Jason thought. Probably to keep Kon from being nosey or something. That was just like him. Careful, paranoid, prepared.

It was sad and admirable at the same time.

Tim was silent the whole trip to Jason’s safehouse. Artemis kept giving Jason pointed looks, but Jason ignored her, knowing that trying to force Tim to do anything would only make things worse.

Instead, he let Tim stay in his thoughts as he pulled up to his safe house, Bizarro landing next to his car with a solid thud.

Jason turned to Tim, wondering how he should approach the subject of getting Tim out of his costume. He was in obvious need of a shower, and Jason knew he needed to check him for wounds. Tim may have been a master at hiding how he really felt, but a near death experience could always be as bad as the real thing.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Artemis cleared her throat and got out of the car. “Come, Bizarro is hungry and so am I. I assume you are too, Tim? Bizarro makes some great pork and beans.”

Artemis didn’t wait for a response. She shut the door and led Bizarro inside, leaving Jason to deal with Tim on his own.

Jason silently cursed her retreating form. How dare she just dump him alone to the wolf-

“So, she knows me as Tim. I assume they both know about the bat then?”

Jason bit his lip, choosing his words carefully. Jason didn’t worry too much about his secret identity, he was legally dead after all. After that whole incident with Black Mask, though, he’s been a bit more careful.

But Tim, Tim was Bruce’s level of paranoid when it came to their nightly escapades. Anyone who knew Tim was Red Robin was a calculated risk, one Tim was comfortable with. Tim didn’t know Artemis, and the last thing he needed was Tim pissing her off.

“She knows about you and Dick. That’s it. Dick paid me a little visit the other day in costume. That’s what he gets for not calling before dropping by. But I needed to tell her about you to-”

To get her to understand why you were so important to me.

“-To get her to help me. I trust her.”

Tim studied Jason for long, uncomfortable second. His eyes were still hidden behind that damned mask and Jason had to clench his hands to keep them from ripping the mask off his face.

“If you trust her, then she must really be trustworthy.”

Jason let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding at Tim’s words. Tim finally looked away, fiddling with his gloves in a more Tim gesture than a Red Robin one. “I also wasn’t aware you and Dick were on such good terms.”

Jason snorted. “Barely. But when you- when everyone thought you died, we were a mess. We needed each other.”

It was Jason’s turn to level Tim with a stare, one intense enough that Tim was able to pick out the little green flecks in Jason’s eyes even in the dim lighting, before breaking the gaze by turning his head away and opening the door.

Tim climbed out without another word, and Jason let out a long sigh before following.

He liked to think he and Tim were close before the whole “Tim took on a whole bunch of drones and nearly died” thing happened. It took some time to get rid of the feelings of jealousy and animosity from Jason’s side. And then it took even more time to get over the awkwardness and overall carefulness they had around each other.

One thing Jason was always grateful for was the Tim never treated him like he was crazy, or like he needed to be watched. Dick and Bruce had the habit of talking to him like he was a ticking time bomb, and while they seemed to realize he wasn’t going to burn down Gotham out of spite every time soon, Jason knew sometimes they worried about him. It would be sweet if it didn’t piss him off so much.

But not Tim. Tim treated him like a person. He was mindful of Jason’s thoughts and feelings, and seemed genuinely surprised when Jason returned the favor.

It was then when Jason realized something important: Tim was taken for granted. And the more they talked and the closer they got, the more Jason got protective of Tim. He realized that everyone was so used to having Tim there that they never even stopped to say thank you to him. And so, Jason made a silent vow to himself. In order to prove that Tim’s forgiveness wasn’t in vain, Jason would do his damned best at protecting Tim and showing him he mattered. He would be there for Tim, because Tim was there for everyone, including himself.

Jason and Tim entered the house, and Tim stood awkwardly in the living room, taking in the small bookshelf, cluttered papers, and almost homey environment, courtesy of Artemis and Bizarro. Jason’s safehouses normally didn’t hold anything of value; cheap clothes that was easily replaceable, enough food for a few days. It was supposed to be a place he could enter and leave without being noticed or missed. But ever since Artemis and Bizarro stuck around, it started feeling more like a place to return to.

Though, Jason supposed that even if they had to leave the house, as long as he had Artemis and Bizarro with him, he wouldn’t mind.

He wouldn’t ever tell them that, though.

Somehow he felt they knew all the same.

“Since you’re the guest, you can have the shower first. The hot water only runs for about an hour, though, so don’t take too long.” Artemis snapped Tim out of his musings, waving a hand in the general direction of the bathroom. Her tone left no room for argument and honestly, a shower sounded heavenly to Tim, who just wanted to eat something, get clean, and then crash for a few days. But he wouldn’t let it on, could never show that he was weak.

Tim glanced towards Jason, who snapped to attention and made a beeline for the restroom. “I’ll show you, I don’t think you’ve been in this safe house. Had to relocate after my whole shebang with Black Mask.”

Tim followed silently, stepping passed Jason as they made it to the door. Once inside, Tim peeled off his mask and unhooked his cape, and Jason took them both.

“Unfortunately, all of our equipment is at my hideout-”

“The police bunker?”

Jason nodded, “yeah. I figured it’d be smarter to let you rest and freshen up rather than jumping right to work.”

“I wouldn’t have minded either way. But...thank you, Jason. Now if you don’t mind.” Tim gave Jason a pointed look and Jason had to fight a blush, realizing what Tim meant. Privacy. For a shower. Right.

“Y-yeah. I’ll go see if I have some of your spare clothes. If not you can use something of mine. Uh...yeah.” Jason made a hasty retreat, missing Tim’s smirk as he all but ran from the bathroom.

When the door firmly locked behind him, Jason took a deep breath and went over to the kitchen, checking on his friends.

Bizarro was leaning over the stove, carefully stirring a pot of beans.

“Is he alright?”

Artemis’ voice sounded from behind Jason, and he turned to see her leaning against the doorway.

Jason suppressed a sigh. “I don’t know. Tim’s always been great at hiding how he feels. I’ll have to coax it out of him.”

“Bizarro and I can go, if it makes it easier.” Artemis offered, and Bizarro made a grunt of agreement.

Jason bit his lip. He didn’t just want to kick them out for the night. Sure, he had plenty more safehouses they could use, but, in all honesty, he wasn’t sure how Tim would handle being alone with another bat. For all he knew, they abandoned him. Wrote him off as dead and didn’t bother to find the body. Hell, Jason didn’t even manage to go to the funeral. He couldn’t bring himself to.

“Pup pup like small him?”

Jason tried to smile, though he was sure it looked more like a grimace. “Yeah. Guess you can say that.”

“We aren’t stupid, Jason. We know affection when we see it.” Jason sent a quick glare to Artemis but couldn’t find it in his heart to put the heat behind it. Artemis rolled her eyes. “You could deny it all you want but it’s obvious. Now go make sure he’s ok. Bizarro and I can handle dinner.”

Jason nodded, silently making his way to his room. He tossed the cape and mask aside and pulled out a little box from under his bed. In it was his and Tim’s clothes, things he couldn’t bring himself to throw away even when changing safe houses.

Grabbing a pair of sweats, a shirt and boxers, Jason quickly stashed it back, ignoring the stab of guilt he felt when he first packed it with the intention of throwing it away, only to chicken out.

Jason quickly made his way to the bathroom before his emotions and thoughts got the better of him, knocking on the door.

“Tim? I brought you a change of clothes.”

Jason waited for a few seconds as the water shut off. Rustling could be heard before Tim opened the door enough to poke his head out, face still blank but with a slight blush from the hot water. Heat steamed out of the bathroom, making Jason shiver slightly.

Tim looked down at the clothes with a raised eyebrow, but took them with a near silent “thank you.”

Jason didn’t miss the way the movement made Tim subtly wince.

Seeming to catch his mistake, Tim looked up at Jason, eyes going wide.

“Jason-”

“Move Tim.”

Tim stared at Jason like a deer in headlights, but Jason’s eyes were firm, so with a sigh, he slowly stepped back and allowed Jason to slip inside.

Tim’s hips were wrapped in a towel, hair dripping wet. On his chest littered a few cuts that seemed to have closed before and reopened from the shower just a little. Most of them weren’t bad. The worst was the one on his side, a deep gash that was most certainly going to scar. Tim’s legs, arms, and torso were covered in bruises, one of his ankles a greenish color. That was probably the cause of the limping.

With a sigh, Jason motioned for Tim to sit on the toilet. Tim obeyed, knowing it was useless to try and argue with Jason now that he’s seen the damage.

Wordlessly, Jason reached under the sink and pulled out his first aid kit. It wasn’t grande by bat standards, but it held everything he needed to patch up wounds quick. Pulling out the alcohol and bandages, Jason motioned for Tim to turn so he could address the gash on his side. Tim obeyed, turning slightly.

Tim didn’t wince as Jason cleaned the wound. He didn’t make a sound. Both of them were silent, the only noise the rustling of the bandages as Jason wrapped them firmly but gently around Tim’s torso.

Tim resisted the urge to shudder at the feeling of Jason’s hands, the same hands that once held a knife to his neck, the same hands that have punched him and held a gun to shoot at him with countless times, gently traced over the bandages. His skin broke out in goosebumps as Jason’s fingers gently traced over the other cuts, as if their delicate touch could make them disappear.

Finally unable to take the silence, Tim grabbed one of Jason’s hands. Jason froze, blue meeting blue as they locked eyes. Tim’s face was still blank, but his eyes were open, earnest, a little scared.

“Jason, why are you helping me?”

There were a million answers to that question. That he knew what it was like to be left on his own. That they were Robins, and Robins stuck together. That they were apart of their crazy bat family. But all of them left Jason as he stared at Tim. Tim, unbreakable, smart, stubborn Tim, who looked so vulnerable right now.

Swallowing Jason opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to mind. “Because you needed me.”

Tim was silent, watching Jason for any sign of dishonesty, but Jason knew there was none, because it was the simple truth.

Seeming to accept this Tim, leaned forward, slowly so Jason could pull away should he decide to. But it seemed Jason didn’t want to, as he let Tim close the distance between them in a short kiss. It was nothing more than a simple press of lips, but Jason could read between the lines. It was a thank you. It was a promise of Jason’s kindness never being forgotten. It was the willingness to start something more, if Jason wanted.

But not right now. Jason knew Tim was in no place to start anything right now.

Jason tucked a strand of Tim’s hair behind his ear, sighing softly. “We can talk more after dinner, you must be starving.”

“I’d like that. I was promised pork and beans?” Tim’s lips quirked up, and Jason felt himself smiling.

With time, perhaps everything was going to be ok.

#jaytim #jtsecretsanta #jaytim secret santa 2017 #blueflamebird writes #ignomines

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the-sky-is-a-lie · 5 years

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Affections of the Underworld: Update

I haven't abandoned it, but I suddenly remembered I haven't finished my JayTim Secret Santa, so I'll be working on that for a while - and as much as I'd like to, work isn't giving me the free time to put into two projects right now.

Thank you for understanding and as always any questions are welcome!

#my writing

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drabblemeister · 6 years

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All Revved Up & Nowhere To Go

AO3 Link: All Revved Up & Nowhere To Go Pairing: JayTim Summary: Tim dips out of prom early; he definitely doesn’t expect Jason Todd to pick him up. Comments: My Secret Santa for @assclass-more-like-assholeclass. First time participating in the @jaytimsecretsanta exchange~ Hope you like it!

Tim watched the dance floor with tired eyes, the world around him glowing and kaleidoscopic. Brilliant stretches of colored cloth draped across the banquet hall, pearl-colored streamers tangled in their folds – and the lighting, dim and sheathed by decor, made the space look like a sprawling neon storm. “ Oh my god,” Cassie said, emerging from the fray, her coiled up-do loose with curls. Her cheeks were flushed and her dress wafted like starlight – a swathe of dark blue powdered in tiny beads of glitter that caught every bit of flickering light. “Why aren’t you dancing? ”

Tim, sitting in relative darkness at one of the abandoned tables, opened his mouth to comment – but lost his words to the sight of a hand curling around Cassie’s waist from behind.

“Have you seen Tim dance?” Conner Kent laughed, slipping next to Cassie, pulling her closer by the hip. The red in his cheeks climbed to her ears and she bit her lower lip, looking like a girl swept up and into a fairytale, all magic and stardust, paired with a real-life knight in shining armor.

“Ha ha,” Tim replied, with no real bite. It gave him the opportunity to take in Conner’s appearance for the umpteenth time; slicked back hair, sleek rented suit, a boutonniere that could pass for a small, fledgling midnight sky – and dark, warm eyes and impossible dimples and squared shoulders that made Tim shift uncomfortably in his chair.

Conner said, “This dance was expensive – come on, dance with us,” and he held out a hand, looking brilliant and kind and smiling like as he always smiled, ever since they’d first met in first grade.

Tim saw it though, the way that Cassie’s grin wavered, just for a moment; he’d been friends with her for nearly as long and knew what this night meant, and thought, blandly, that this was what it felt like to be a third wheel.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” Tim prompted, rising from his chair with casual grace. He was good at acting when he wanted to be, and so he donned an easy smile and shooed them off. “Have fun. I’ll find you later?”

Conner’s brows did that thing , the one where he was trying to read between the lines; it meant he suspected Tim might be lying but couldn’t quite get to the heart of it – but Cassie, unaware, let out a startled gasp as a slow song bled into the room.

“I love this one! Oh my god , we have to dance–” and Tim watched her long, slender fingers curl around the cuff of Conner’s sleeve as she took a few steps backwards, beckoning him back to the lazy, romantic sway.

Conner gave Tim a questioning look as he was tugged backwards, and Tim, being Tim, offered a wry two-fingered salute. And then Tim turned, not really wanting Conner’s lingering attention, equally burnt out of watching anymore awkward, budding adults practice the twelve-inch rule.

Sighing, he set off.

Around the hall, music reverberated. It was a gust of notes competing with the soft breath of air conditioning, interlaced with the tinkling sound of silverware against china as some prom-goers finished their desserts. Laughter spilled from unexpected places, and small clusters of girls stood off the the side, grinning as they stood, barefoot, heels dangling from their hands.

They were pretty. Everyone was. It felt likes a spell had been cast over the bargain bin populace of Gotham High, a Cinderella-like magic that gave the gift of spilling gowns and golden crowns, pearled cufflinks and lavish silk ties.

And Tim, stepping into the bathroom and pausing in front of the mirror, wondered how one could look the part and still somehow not fit in.

Dark hair, combed back.

Bright eyes, too blue against the paleness of his skin.

A suit, all sharp edges, all business – just like his dad. How could anyone put on a suit and have it feel like anything but?

Throwing on the tap, Tim doused his hands in water and ran them back through his hair, loosening the gel that held it so rigidly in place. It came apart like rebellion, and he thought, if his reflection were in a magazine, it would be fashion . Here – amidst a dance set on formality, he simply looked undone.

When the door opened behind him, ushering in a handsy couple, Tim made up his mind. Prom – it just wasn’t for him.

There was no enchantment to boredom, no real magic in celebrating high school to begin with.

Slipping out was easier than it should have been; dipping past teachers as he tugged his tie loose felt less like stealth and more like escape. The ground buzzed with bass-line as Tim weaved between elegant, draping pinafores and glitzy tulle dresses, bumping shoulders with grinning athletes holding cups that reeked of contraband liquor.

One of Conner’s teammates caught Tim’s eyes and tried to say hi , but Tim was already halfway out the door, pulling his phone from his pocket.

I’m sorry, but can you come pick me up?

Tim typed the text as he walked, his eyes scanning the hotel’s lot. It was packed to the brim with cars, and Tim lamented the fact his dad was one of those dads – one who was making him work to save to buy his own.

His phone vibrated and Dick replied: Already?

The sound of Tim’s shoes scuffing pavement almost seemed to echo. A couple of times, the front doors to the hotel opened behind him and he was caught in a sudden, sweeping draft of outpouring music. Against his neck, the notes seemed to chase him, as if trying to lure him back.

Yeah, he typed another text to Dick. For measure, he added, I’m bored.

While it was true, it wasn’t the entire truth. That had more to do with a crush long withered that somehow still had roots and, every once in a while, chose to remind Tim at incredibly inconvenient times.

Why was Conner Kent so impossible to get over?

The question haunted him, even though the answer was simple.

Because no one else knew him like that. No one else knew his favorite movies by heart, could recite quotes back and forth with practiced ease. No one else really got him, or knew what he’d gone through years back, when his mom had passed and his dad had lost it and Tim had spent nearly every other night climbing out of his window and clambering into Conner’s car, where they drove off and into the night, telling tall tales of where their lives would take them.

Tim had always thought they’d be side-by-side...

...but sports and tech scholarships didn’t really go together and that meant none of their college applications matched up.

With a sigh, Tim glanced down at his phone, where Dick had sent the message: I’m sending Jason .

Tim froze.

“Jason?” he asked aloud. No one was close enough to hear, and there definitely wasn’t anyone nearby to diffuse the definitive confusion in Tim’s tone.

Jason.

Dick’s younger, somewhat-recently adopted brother, all leather jackets and quick wit – the type of guy you didn’t just talk to, because one sharp glare meant murder. Even though Tim wasn’t feeling prom, this alternative left him feeling a bit like: I’m too young to die .

He’d never been alone with Jason, much less shared more than a muffled hello , when Jason had dropped by the diner to complain to Dick about something, only to catch Tim in the storeroom instead. And, from unintentional eavesdropping, Tim had only learned a whopping three things: one, that Jason was less than two years older than him; two, that Jason had been to juvie, and three: that he apparently liked literature which, when looking at him, made absolutely no sense.

Not that Tim wasn’t an advocate for not judging books by their covers, but Jason’s cover was pretty Mad Max , and Pride and Prejudice just didn’t seem to fit the bill.

He was an enigma, really.

But Tim supposed that he was as well.

It took a few rounds of pacing before Tim got a text, and for a split second, he thought it might be Dick. Instead, it was Conner, asking where he was – which, for a moment, stoked that pitiful little undying fire until Tim made the conscious choice to snuff it.

Tried to find you, he lied, before adding: Headed home. Have fun. It earned a slew of replies; Conner asking again where he was, then asking why, then asking if he was okay.

And Tim – he didn’t answer right away because he was annoyed. He typed out and deleted just go dance three times before rolling his eyes, but the delay was a mistake; Conner came looking for him, and Tim was an idiot, standing on the hotel’s sidewalk in plain sight.

“Hey,” Conner said, and Tim noticed that Cassie wasn’t with him, which, really, didn’t mean much of anything. Conner had a knowing look when he said, “You’re bored, aren’t you?”

Tim took that and ran with it because it wasn’t entirely untrue. “I’m dying,” Tim said. “But seriously, go have fun.”

The expression that crossed Conners’ face was unfamiliar – not guilt, but close. He said, “It’s not...it’s not because of me and–” and was forced to stop, his words overlapped by someone else’s voice.

“Oi, Timmers. We got a date, or what?”

Tim frowned just before tossing a look over his shoulder, completely caught off guard by the fact that Jason was pulled over less than ten feet away, hazard lights flashing in a no-parking zone, eyes glued to Tim as he leaned across the middle consul and into the passenger seat.

“Who is that?” Conner asked, bewildered.

And Tim, having lost all sense of self-preservation for the sake of what felt like an opportunity, replied, “My date.”

Conner’s brows crinkled in concern.

“Tell Cass I said bye,” Tim smiled. Before he’d realized it, he’d turned and when his fingers met with the cold metal of the car’s handle he glanced back, offering Conner a small, departing wave.

Tim didn’t wait for a rebuttal before he pulled back the door and slid inside, the seat cool through the fabric of his pants. As he drew the seatbelt across his chest, he lifted his gaze, catching Jason’s eyes on his boutonniere, on the suit – on Tim’s general state of formal disarray.

“Can I help you?” Tim asked, because Jason seemed like the type you had to hold your own to and not give an inch.

The question earned a quirked eyebrow, and under the glow of the interior lights, Tim learned fact number four: Jason’s eyes were green. They were also intense, and even though Jason was barely older, his jawline was sharp, giving him an expert glare that Tim suspected could compete with his own.

Flicking off the car’s emergency lights, Jason leaned between them to grip the shift and tapped the gas beneath his foot. The engine hummed happily, anxious for him to release the clutch.

“All revved up with no place to go,” he sang, voice low and teasing.

Tim couldn’t help but feel like it was a pass at his attire, but his response came before he could really digest. “Meatloaf?” he asked. “Really?”

It was satisfying to see Jason look even the smallest bit surprised. “ I was nothing but an all-American boy– ”

“Could you not?” Tim interrupted, flattening invisible creases in his lapel. Then, to no one in particular and born from complete bewilderment, he asked, “Meatloaf?”

“Classic rock,” Jason emphasized, and he finally let off the clutch, giving his car the opportunity to peel out of the lot.

When the seatbelt didn’t constrict, Tim found himself clutching the edges of his seat. He could feel Jason’s eyes on him, but when he peered over, Jason was quick to look away.

Tim said, “Prom,” like that explained everything.

“I can see that,” Jason replied.

“What else do you see?” Tim asked, because sarcasm without sarcasm was tragedy.

Jason caught him completely off guard, however, when he said, “That the boutonniere I bought for you looks good.”

Tim parted his lips, completely prepared for some smart-mouthed reply, only to close them, bewildered. “You...what? Dick bought me this.”

Saying it was embarrassing; it was enough that he hadn’t had a date , but his dad had forgotten the damn boutonniere (because he had a knack for forgetting anything important ) and so Dick (his boss), acting as the older brother Tim didn’t have, had surprised him with a brilliant little burst of red orchid.

“Correction. I bought it,” Jason stated, “because Dick would have bought a fucking carnation.”

As Jason cut off a car with little to no remorse, Tim asked, “Is that bad?”

“In France, they give them out at funerals,” Jason remarked.

Tim was unimpressed. “I mean,” he said, “that kind of felt like a funeral.”

Jason snorted, then threw his head back as he grit out, “Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper –”

“Stop–”

“– baby, take my hand, don’t fear the reaper, ” Jason continued, his grin carrying into the lyrics as he lifted his fingers from the stick-shift and motioned to Tim, come hither – and Tim felt a heart-pounding rush of panic as he reached for Jason’s hand and forced it back down, fingers unintentionally interlacing in the process.

“ Baby, I’m your man,” Jason practically hummed, and Tim could feel heat rise on his skin at the unexpected lyric. When Jason’s eyes darted over at Tim’s sudden quiet, he laughed, loud and honest.

In revolt, Tim jerked his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest, irritated. For the umpteenth time, he thought, I just want to go home.

But Jason, before his humor really even faded, asked, “So really, though. Why’d you cut out early?”

“Of the dance?” Tim asked, his head lulling Jason’s direction. He wasn’t really sure why Jason would be interested in the first place.

As they entered a darker stretch of highway, shadows played across the dashboard, folding across the seats with each rare, passing light. Headlights beaded the distance, and Jason’s looked like foggy breath over old, cracked speedway.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Jason said.

“Did you go to prom?”

“You can’t just ask people if they’ve gone to prom, Tim,” Jason countered. His fingers were loose against the wheel when he chuckled and said, “I missed it.”

“Missed it?” Tim questioned. Then the pieces fell together. “Oh, yeah. Because you were in…” but the words trailed off. It felt like being caught knowing a secret, and he shook his head and returned his attention to the road. “You didn’t miss anything, to be honest.”

Jason smirked. “You afraid to say it?”

Tim wasn’t sure what he was. It hadn’t really occurred to him, until now at least, that he’d been picked up by someone who’d been incarcerated – and it wasn’t as if he had a clue what Jason had done.

“You were arrested,” Tim stated.

Jason sighed, and it sounded almost wistful. “Yeah. And it turns out there’re no winter formals in juvie.”

“What did you do?” Tim asked, eyes wandering the blackened spills of shadow between street lamps.

The question caught Jason as funny. “What do you think I did?”

At that, Tim did look at him, humorless. “How would I know?”

“You know a lot more than you let on,” Jason pointed out, and Tim wasn’t really sure what to make of that. He was frowning when he said, “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”

His tone came across clipped, and so Jason noticed – and Jason was still smirking when he glanced Tim’s direction again. It gave Tim the impression that Jason didn’t really care if Tim knew or not, but that he liked to tease.

“A truth for a truth,” Jason said. “I’ll tell you my dirty past, and you tell me the haunting story of Prom Night.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but Jason was already talking.

“My dad, he was a pretty cool guy,” Jason said. “Super smart. Stole the shit out of cars – taught me. I picked the wrong one though – belonged to the Bruce Wayne – got caught.”

Tim absorbed that – saw Jason in a new light. The way he sank into the seat of his car, the way his fingers fell loose over the gear shift, the way he seemed at home in the driver’s seat. Tim could only imagine him joyriding.

“Did you race?” Tim asked.

Jason’s eyes looked like fire. “When I knew I wouldn’t get caught.”

Tim hummed in thought. It seemed fitting, somehow. Even sitting, Jason seemed to emanate energy; he was all moving lines and forward momentum.

“So,” Jason pressed. “Let me guess. You couldn’t stay because they kept playing Despacito on repeat.”

That earned wry look. “Wouldn’t have taken you for a Belieber.”

“Oh no,” Jason’s gaze drifted skyward. “He didn’t mean it.”

Tim looked up, following Jason’s gaze. “Who are you talking to?”

“Jim Morrison. He’s up there, and he heard you say that.”

“Take the highway,” Tim said, a quickened verse with only a hint of melody, “to the end of the night ...” and when Jason looked at him, Tim said, very pointedly, “Des-pa-cito.”

Whatever Jason had expected, it wasn’t that, and so he ended up laughing, hard . He tossed furtive glances Tim’s direction, shaking his head all the while – and, as they passed a heady strobe of a low-sitting street lamp, Tim happened upon fact number five: Jason had freckles that fell like constellations over his skin.

Tim said, “My best friend and I are going to go to different colleges.”

And it took a moment for Jason’s laughter to dim a bit, for him to think on what Tim had just said.

“You decided this on the dance floor?” is how he replied.

Tim huffed, scraping fingers back and through his hair. Warm air blasted from the car’s heaters, and so he slowly began to work off his jacket around the restriction of the seatbelt.

“I don’t really believe in long distance things,” Tim decided to say. “There are other factors as well, but...I guess, it’s hard for me to enjoy these moments because it seems stupid. They just feel like the end. ”

The thought sat a bit heavy, and Tim felt like an idiot as soon as he said it.

“ The end ,” Jason pronounced dramatically, which made Tim scowl. “If you tell me that my boutonniere didn’t get one dance because you were too busy pining over philosophy–” he glanced over, pinning Tim with a searching look. And then, when Tim looked defeated, Jason said, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Tim shrugged. “It was boring!”

“Where’s your inner Whitney? Didn’t you just wanna dance with someone?”

Tim sank low in his seat, arms folding across his chest, a bit petulant. “No one wanted to dance with me.”

That had a marginal effect – in fact, Tim’s seatbelt failed to restrain him as Jason nearly screeched to a halt, pulling over onto the side of the road. The world smelled like burnt rubber and gasoline, and Jason jammed the car into park.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked, as Jason fiddled with the dial on his radio. A thousand songs battled for dominance as he surfed, until he paused on a slow, sultry song that sounded like something from a diner jukebox.

When Jason lifted his attention to Tim, he was serious. “May I have this dance?”

Tim said, “ What?”

But Jason licked his lips and Tim couldn’t help but notice, and then Jason was shifting – unlatching his own seatbelt in order to get out of the car, making his way to Tim’s side. He rapped on Tim’s window, to which Tim slowly, anxiously rolled down the window.

“No.” Tim said, before Jason could even ask again, but Jason dipped low and rested his elbows on the ledge of the window, close enough now that Tim felt the uncomfortable sensation of butterflies in his stomach.

“Dance with me,” Jason said, and Tim thought it was odd, how much he felt like he could just go along with it. After all, it didn't seem like Jason would let him not. So he was moving before he realized it, opening the door with reluctance – quickly tugged out by Jason who, Tim realized, was nearly a head taller.

“This is ridiculous,” Tim said, stumbling over gravel on the road’s edge. It didn’t keep Jason from dragging him to the front of the car, where dirt tangled with the headlights and ghosted long, pouring light. A car drove by, making Tim feel self-conscious, but Jason’s fingers laced with his and drew him close in a way that made Tim think that he hadn’t had much practice on the dance floor either.

The music came, soft and slow. It didn’t fall heavy like in the hotel; it drifted and sauntered, folding out and into the night.

“Fun, right?” Jason asked, and Tim peered up at him dryly. It wasn’t not fun, it was...silly. Different. Jason’s hands were warm, and when one of them dropped to Tim’s waist, he felt the heat through the thin fabric of his button-up. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d left his jacket in the car.

“Next time we’ll have to wear matching colors,” Tim said.

“You could just wear leather.”

“There are dress codes, Jason,” Tim mentioned. “Save Indiana Jones for Comic Con.”

Jason stepped forward, bringing them closer, until Tim felt like he might be able to breathe Jason in.

“Are you asking me on a date, Timothy?”

It was simple banter, but it did something. Tim felt his heart pick up and he cursed his existence – his quick wit struggled to surface, until he finally asked, “And who would I be? I can’t pull off Sean Connery.”

“Let my armies be the rocks and the trees and the birds and the sky…” Jason quoted, managing a perfect impersonation.

This time, Tim laughed. “Okay. You can be Sean Connery. I’ll be Indiana.”

Jason said, conspiratorially, “We named the dog Indiana.”

Shaking his head, Tim pulled away as a song the song changed, feeling remnant warmth and a bit lightheaded. He was tired, and Jason was hard to keep up with.

“So,” Jason prompted, stretching his arms high enough that his shirt lifted above the waistband of his denims. “How was Roadside Prom?”

From the car, a commercial blared, and Tim laughed again as he rolled his eyes. Then, very seriously, he said, “Kind of disappointing. Prom usually comes with dinner.”

It occurred to him, only after he’d said it, that it definitely sounded like a proposition, but before he had time to properly panic, Jason sighed.

“Well, I do know this diner…”

Tim narrowed his eyes just before deciding to tap his chin in thought, caught up in Jason's pace.

“My adoptive older brother owns it. It’s like, a pretty big deal…”

“Hmm,” Tim hummed.

Jason added, “And actually, there’s this part-timer that works there and to be honest, I always try to drop by when I might see him, but he doesn’t seem to have, you know, a regular schedule. Probably because of school. Preparing for the end and all of that.”

“ What?” Tim asked.

Fact number 6: Jason apparently had a thing for Timothy Drake.

“Do you want a burger or not?” Jason asked, headed back to the car.

Tim wondered if he could pass the flush off as cold, or if Jason would see right through him. He also recounted all the times he’d seen Jason, all the unnecessary refills, the way Jason’s gaze had seemed cutting, when it was entirely something else.

“A milkshake,” Tim said slowly, turning, feeling on fire - spontaneous. As he tugged open his car door, his eyes danced up to Jason, whose gaze sauntered back.

“A milkshake,” he agreed.

Tim felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, not entirely surprised to see a text from Conner letting him know that he and Cassie were leaving and that he hoped Tim was okay - and also, who was that guy?

Tim wasn’t too sure how to reply, but he thought about what Jason had said - about things ending, and happened to look over to Jason, who was fiddling with radio stations, trying to find his way back to something recognizable.

Change wasn’t bad.

Actually, it kind of felt like a new beginning.

#jaytim #jaytimss #assclass-more-like-assholeclass #high school au #tim drake #jason todd

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