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violetsmoak · 4 years

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Pieces of April [15/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Here's your daily reminder to stay inside, wash your hands and not to hoard toilet paper! As a reward, enjoy another chapter of POA, featuring sass, subtle and not so subtle inklings of romance, and off-screen appearance of another Bat!

First Chapter

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After two movies and being so distracted that Ives kicks his ass at Mario Kart, Tim returns to his apartment. It’s not very late in vigilante time—two o’clock, as promised—and he’s sort of half expecting Jason to be still awake when he gets back.

The older man is sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping absently through the channels, eye flicking to the baby-monitor beside him every few seconds like he’s prepared to jump into action if he hears a cry.

“Has she been keeping you up?” Tim asks as he strides over.

Jason blinks blearily at him. “No.”

“Then why don’t you grab some sleep while you can? There’s no point staying up if you don’t have to.”

“First of all—fuck you. Second of all, that’s rich comin' from the family insomniac. And third, I’m havin' trouble shuttin' my brain off, okay? It’s still tryin' to figure out if I didn’t accidentally travel to another alternate reality of something.”

A sharp, distorted cry echoes over the monitor and Jason really does jump.

“Stay put,” Tim tells him, already heading for the stairs. “I’ll get her.”

It’s still surprising when Jason listens to him, which Tim puts down to being in a desperate situation. He hopes that having someone else in the apartment to help with Isa will diminish whatever anxiety has the older man wound so tight.

Once upstairs, Tim slips into the guestroom and scoops her into his arm, wincing at the shrill squealing cry. After a quick check of her diaper—blessedly empty—he carries her still crying form downstairs to prepare a bottle for her.

Jason winces when they appear and—he doesn’t really run away, but he makes a hasty exit over the stairs.

Tim huffs under his breath. “It’s not like she’s a bomb, Jason. Geeze.”

Though she is doing an excellent job imitating a percussion grenade while they wait for the bottle of formula to warm up in the microwave, so maybe there are some similarities.

“It was thirty seconds, not thirty years, calm down,” he grumbles as she latches onto the plastic nipple like a starving animal.

He watches her nurse for a few minutes, brows furrowed and mind on Jason.

I know he’s still adjusting, but at some point, it’s got to start sinking in, right? I mean, he’s not even planning on keeping her, it’s all temporary, so there’s no reason for him to be this out of it.

Unless there’s more going on than just a surprise baby—which, given Jason’s past and present activities, could very well the issue.

I wonder how hard he’d punch me if I suggested he talk to someone about this?

Not Dick, obviously; calling him has always been one of Tim’s major avenues of support when he’s going through hard times, but he knows Jason would rather crawl through broken glass than open up to his predecessor.

Sometimes I think Jason’s relationship with Dick is a hundred times more complicated than it is with anyone else in the family…

Isa gives a dissatisfied whimper and turns her face away from the bottle. Tim frowns, seeing that she’s barely drunk a quarter of it, and tries to tempt her to take another, but she refuses, already going dozy and limp with sleep.

“Really? After all that? You raise holy hell and you don’t even finish it?” He snorts. “You really are his.”

It’s an effort to get the sleepy infant to burp, but he manages it; she passes out before he’s even made it back up the stairs and back to Jason’s room.

Despite having explicit permission to enter without knocking, Tim’s still uneasy broaching Jason’s personal space. Especially since Tim can tell he’s not asleep, even if he’s lying on his bad, holding a pillow over his face like he’s trying to block everything out.

Tim carefully arranges the baby back in her basket-bassinet, and quietly asks Jason, “Need anything else?”

Jason mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "Another life", and turns his back on both Tim and the baby.

And really, what can he even say to that?

It’s a problem for some other time.

Tim takes a quick shower, before faceplanting onto his unmade bed. The exhaustion he’s been ignoring for the past day or so finally hits him, and he passes out without even getting up to turn off the lights.

By some miracle, he gets six hours of uninterrupted sleep before his alarm goes off later that morning. He doesn’t feel fully rested, but he gave up on chasing that sensation two Robins ago.

After dressing and taming his hair (it might be time for a haircut soon), he spends an extra ten minutes checking the bruises on his face—they’ve gone from dark purple to blue—and applying a liberal amount of cover-up. A beat later, he adds a bit of eyeliner as well, to give an appearance of alertness that he doesn’t quite feel.

Heading downstairs his nose twitches as he becomes cognizant of an unfamiliar smell.

Of...someone’s cooking?

He finds Jason in his kitchen, flipping pancakes. The baby carrier is in the middle of the kitchen island, Isa sleeping soundly in a cocoon of blankets.

Instead of asking Jason why he’s cooking, Tim grabs a coffee cup from the cupboard and turns on his Keurig. “How was the first night?”

He doesn’t expect Jason to respond beyond irritated grunting, and so is surprised when he answers.

“Took me an hour to fall asleep,” he says. “Then at four she woke me up…then at six…and then just now. So, I decided, screw it, I’m hungry anyway. And about the only thing you have all the ingredients for are pancakes.” He shoots Tim a judging look. “I don’t even think you have maple syrup. It’s a disgrace.”

“I think there might be corn syrup in the pantry?”

“Disgrace,” Jason repeats.

Tim ignores him and glances at the two dozen pancakes he’s caught sight of behind Jason’s bulk. “Exactly how many people are you feeding?”

Something that might be a blush darkens Jason’s cheeks.

“I may have gotten a little distracted,” he admits defensively. “But I needed something mindless to do and it worked, so just…shut up and eat.”

He shoves a plate with three pancakes at Tim, who doesn’t have the heart to tell Jason he doesn’t really eat breakfast. Instead, he goes looking for the much-maligned corn syrup and takes the smallest pancake he can find in the bunch.

It’s only polite, after all.

Isa starts to whimper again and Jason groans. “There is no way you’re hungry again, I just fed you.”

Instead, he carts her over to the coffee table—the vintage Henredon table Tim actually spent a couple of weeks tracking down because it resembled one his parents had when he was a child—has since yesterday seemingly become the chosen changing station.

There are piles of fresh diapers and wipes spread out on it, clearly from earlier changes, and there’s a pail next to it, along with the detritus of the packaging it was in.

“That can’t be sanitary,” Tim says. “Or environmentally friendly.”

“Yeah, well, your highness can shell out for cloth diapers and hire a service to clean them if that’s your issue.”

Tim rolls his eyes but wisely doesn’t reply to that, instead busying himself with finishing off the giant pancake and a much-needed cup of coffee.

“Ugh,” he hears Jason say after a while. “Are we sure this is a human child? Because what’s coming out of her doesn’t look human.”

Tim chokes on a large lump of pancake and glares across the room. “Yes, thanks for that while I’m eating.”

“As if your stomach hasn’t been tested by many a murder scene.”

“Never while I was eating,” Tim grumbles and pushes his plate away. He hunts down a travel mug for his second much-needed cup of coffee and then grabs his messenger bag from the hook on the door.

He’s halfway headed for the garage when he pauses and considers Jason again.

“Do you need me to stay?” he asks. “I mean, it’s the first day you’re doing this, so—”

“I don’t need you holding my hand, Drake,” Jason deadpans, “especially since you’re not going to be here during the day anyway. No point in getting used to a crutch.”

Tim isn’t sure he likes that comparison.

“You sure?”

“I figured out how to defuse bombs, I can figure this out.”

“Okay…but Safiya did give you her number, right? You know there’s no shame in calling her if you’re stuck.” That earns him a withering glare. “Just saying.” He offers Jason a mock-salute. “Enjoy learning how to baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language!”

“She’s two days old, she doesn’t know what the hell I’m sayin’.”

“A-plus childcare, Mary Poppins,” Tim mutters—under his breath because he doesn’t actually want to be punched this early in the morning—and finally leaves.

Once at the office, he falls into his usual routine—perfunctory greetings to people he should only know by sight but for whom he has done extensive background checks, sitting in a board meeting and chewing out the legal team for not filing their water-filter patent faster (he may have brushed it off to spare people the wrath of Damian, but he fully understands the kid’s anger), a stop at the break-room for a third cup of coffee and to keep an ear out for the office gossip.

Tam is waiting in his office when he finally settles in for the rest of the morning.

“How’s everything going at home?” she asks, closing the door behind her. She hands him his schedule for the day and a checklist of phone calls to return and products that require oversight.

“As well as can be expected,” he replies, sipping his coffee. “It’s an adjustment.”

“No kidding. You go from single, introvert shut-in bachelor to living with Dream Daddy overnight.”

Tim promptly inhales and then spits out very hot coffee, only narrowly missing a stack of contracts that need reviewing.

Tam’s eyes flick to the mess. “I’m not cleaning that up.”

“Why would you say that?” he splutters as his brain frantically tries to reboot after the shock.

“Because it’s not my job to clean up after the functional man-child that is my boss?”

“Not that.” He glares. “Filling my brain with disturbing notions.”

“Is the disturbing notion that I said it, or that you know what Dream Daddy is?”

“The disturbing thing is that you think my—” He pauses, hesitant to use the word ‘brother’ in relation to Jason, if only because it feels wrong for some inexplicable reason. ‘Friend’ is also a gross over-estimation of their relationship. “—new roommate is attractive.”

“Well, some of us have eyes,” Tam shrugs.

“And some of us have criteria for what we find attractive beyond looks.”

“Right. Forgot. You like the dangerous types that try to kill you first and ask questions later.”

Tim opens his mouth to object, and then tilts his head to one side to acknowledge it: given his recent dating history, she’s not wrong. “You forget that type tends to be female. As in something my new roommate most definitely is not.”

“Puh-lease, I’ve seen you when you’re hanging out with Connor. You can’t tell me that’s a hundred percent platonic.”

“It is!”

“If you say so,” Tam replies. “But you forget—I’ve kissed you. And I’ve never felt less spark or even interest in a guy before.”

“Because I was surprised,” Tim grouses. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like women. You’ve met Stephanie.”

“Yeah, but she told me she hit you in the face with a brick the first time you two met.”

“I regret ever introducing you to each other,” Tim groans, pressing his face into his hands. “Look, you’re the one who decided us dating would be a bad idea, so don’t go taking that as evidence that I’m gay.”

“First of all, our dating would be a bad idea, and not even just because of the inevitable involvement of ninjas or Vicki Vale’s byline. I’ve already explained why—which you agreed with at the time. And second of all, I never said you were gay, I said you had a type. Lynx tried to break you with a sword, Connor broke your arm, and as I said, there was Steph…Point is, gender has nothing to do with it, you’re just a masochist.”

“I must be since I put up with you,” he sighs. “Let me be clear: I have no interest, nor will I ever have interest in…my new roommate. And this is so far from the appropriate place to talk about this stuff.”

“And he pulls the ‘boss’ card,” Tam narrates sarcastically. “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. For now. Only because I have a conference call with my opposite number in Hong Kong.” She heads out but can’t resist throwing an over-dramatic sigh over her shoulder. “Maybe if I had the ability to throw you through a wall, you and I would have had a chance. Guess we’ll never know.”

She opens the door to the office, and then she’s gone, leaving Tim to parse the utterly bewildering turn to the conversation.

“How did we even get on that topic?” he mutters to himself, searching his desk for his glasses.

God, she can never find out that Jason tried to kill me that first time we met. I’ll never hear the end of it. Even if she’s completely wrong about all this, I’ll have to deal with knowing looks the rest of my life…

Tim makes a valiant effort to lose himself in his work after that, if only to erase the memory of Jason being called ‘daddy’ by another adult. He cleans up his desk as best he can, wrinkling his nose at the idea the place is going to smell like stale coffee for a while, and then does a quick triage of what work needs to be done now and what can wait.

He manages to lose himself for a few hours, working even through lunch, before setting aside time to wrestle with the current problem in his life: namely, helping Jason find someone to step in and deal with the baby situation.

It’s not like a business deal or falling stock options. A human being doesn’t come with cheat codes or hacks.

Well…not directly.

Tim grins to himself and opens an encrypted server to access to the CPS servers. Jason’s adamant about not working through the system, but that doesn’t mean they can’t investigate families within the system on their own and outside of whatever arbitrary criteria individual caseworkers use to evaluate potential parents. It’s a starting point.

At the same time, he’s using his personal computer that’s linked in with the Nest system to add a few extra layers of protection to Jason’s falsified information. It’s a fairly routine task, but he wants to ensure no one realizes he’s there.

His screen freezes.

O: Do I need to know why you suddenly needed to hack the SSA?

“Almost no one,” Tim corrects himself with a sigh; of course she’s keeping tabs on him.

He types a quick reply:

T: You mean you don’t already?

O: No. I’m waiting for you to be upfront about it.

That would be a definite change from the usual Bat modus operandi. He wonders how long it’s going to last.

T: Precautionary alias for a case.

O: I see.

T: You know if it was anything more than that I’d have reached out.

O: Even if it involves a certain red sheep of the family?

Tim groans, and only just refrains from pressing his palms against his eyes in frustration. Babs’ stance on Jason isn’t exactly clear, and she’s just as likely to give Bruce a heads-up about possible Red Hood antics coming up as wait for him to figure it out himself.

T: Even then. This is a personal thing and I’m handling it.

O: Alright. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.

O: For now.

Which Tim knows from experience will only last for so long; any potential threat in Gotham—and Jason is still occasionally classified as one of those—and Oracle might just take a page out of Batman’s mitigation playbook.

“Problem for another day,” he tells himself.

He’s starting to feel like that’s going to become his new mantra.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

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violetsmoak · 4 years

Text

Pieces of April [14/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

After a chillingly silent drive back to the apartment, they find Tam waiting for them. Tim finds himself making a mental note to give her a raise for just knowing when he’s going to need her.

“I came bearing Chinese food,” she announces as they clamber through the secret door. “I wasn’t sure you’d be hungry after this or not. So, take as much or as little as you want. I bought a lot because I figure you guys are going to be hella busy the next few days, and food runs aren’t going to be a priority and—” She pauses as they draw near, and Jason places the carrier square in the center of the island in the kitchen. “Is this her?”

“No, it’s the other illegitimate child I found out about this week,” Jason mutters tiredly.

“How the heck am I supposed to know what’s normal for you?” Tam shakes her head, eyes riveted on the baby. She reaches out lightly to stroke the edge of the baby’s cap. “What’s her name?”

“Luisa.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“How can you tell?” Tim asks, considering the ruddy, squished face.

Tam smacks him in the shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean! I seriously can’t see it. Is this a woman thing?”

That earns him another smack.

The baby, who has been silent the whole ride from the hospital, suddenly begins to cry. The sound starts as a mild bleating but quickly grows louder.

“See? You offended her,” Tam says.

“You’re so funny,” Tim grumbles.

“Is that the ‘I’m hungry cry’, or the ‘I’m wet’ cry?” Jason wonders.

The prospect of either is unpleasant in different ways.

“Could be either. One of us should change her while the other gets something to eat—you did buy formula, right?”

“Of course I did,” Tam rolls her eyes. “I didn’t think either of you was going to start spontaneously lactating.”

“Thank you for that imagery,” Tim says, having to pitch his voice a little louder over the crying. “So, who’s doing what?”

“Do either of you even know how to change a diaper?”

“Yes,” both men reply and then eye each other in surprise.

“There were a lot of families with kids in my building growin’ up,” Jason defends himself. “Babysittin’ was one of the few jobs a kid like me could get paid for under the table.” He eyes the infant. “They were all way bigger than this, though.”

“I’m sure the concept’s the same,” Tim replies. “Remind me to tell you about the time B was stuck carrying a baby around with him all night.”

“He took a baby on patrol?” Jason demands, indignant.

“There was nowhere safe to leave it. Among others, Ra’s al Ghul was looking for it.”

“Oh, him,” Tam contempts, earning a bemused glance from Jason.

“One of the most dangerous men in the world, and that’s your reaction?”

“I’ve filled my quota of gibbering panic for a lifetime,” she answers.

Jason shrugs, acknowledging the point, and then glances at Tim. Hesitant, he holds out a fist. “Loser gets diapers?”

It takes a minute.

“Best two out of three,” Tim agrees.

“Are you kidding right now,” Tam groans, like she’s considering pulling at her hair.

Two throws later and Jason is muttering darkly as he goes digging for the box of diapers, while Tim juggles a container of formula and the package of new bottles that he needs to clean first. Tam is holding Luisa (“I’m playing nursemaid exactly once,” she warns with a dangerous look in her eye. “Now get your sh—stuff together.”), gravitating back and forth between the two men and wincing as Isa’s decibel level increases impressively.

While Tim cleans unpacks and starts cleaning the bottles, following directions from an online guide, Jason sets up his supplies on the living room coffee table. After Tam carefully transfers the tiny, squalling creature into his arms, Jason takes a minute or so to study her.

“I don’t smell anything,” he says, uncertain. “She could just be wet.”

“Still means you have to change her,” Tam reminds him.

“I’m getting’ there!”

“What’s that stuff all over her? Are you supposed to bathe her?”

“No, you’re not supposed to bathe them for at least 24 hours,” Tim calls from the kitchen. “That stuff’s apparently good for the skin or something. Even then, I think we’re going to stick to sponge baths for the foreseeable future.”

“Wet baby means slippery baby,” Jason agrees. “So no.”

“Good call,” Tam says.

By the time Tim has boiled the new bottles and plastic nipples long enough to make sure they’re sterilized and prepared the formula, Jason’s managed to change the baby and get her into one of the impossibly small onesies from the baby things.

“Since she’s still crying, I’m guessing it wasn’t a diaper issue,” Tim remarks, testing to ensure neither the nipple or the formula inside is too hot, before handing over the bottle. “Make sure you keep her head higher than her stomach—”

“I have done this before, you know. Yesterday, even.”

“Well, you looked unsure.”

“I’ll remind you what you look like next time you hold her.”

But there’s less bite in Jason’s tone than might be normal, his attention clearly on keeping the infant well-positioned in the crook of his arm and trying to tempt her to latch on to the nipple. Not for the first time does Tim think Jason looks too big to be allowed to hold something so tiny—even if he knows that those hands are capable of some pretty delicate handling.

He’s seen the bombs the Red Hood has made; the skill it takes for such delicate work is nothing short of art, whatever Batman might think about it.

For some reason, everyone is quiet throughout the ordeal to feed her; it almost feels like everyone is holding their breath.

It’s a bit of a chore getting her to take the nipple, and even when she does, she keeps stopping every so often and turning away. Her eyes remain unfocused and drowsy, and despite her earlier complaints, she doesn’t seem interested in eating. In fact, she seems to nod off before she takes eve the minimum amount recommended.

“Why is she fallin’ asleep? She’s hungry, she should be eatin’,” Jason complains—frets, actually.

“Maybe she’s more tired than she is hungry,” Tim suggests.

“She did just go through birth,” Tam agrees.

“Yeah, she’ll probably be out of it for another day or two.” Tim carries the unfinished bottle over to the sink; he’ll wash it out later. “Anyway, all the forums say we need to feed her every two or three hours, so we can try again later. Maybe she’ll be hungrier.”

“Speaking of later,” Tam says, glancing at her watch. “We have a meeting at eight o’clock tomorrow. I need to go over your presentation once more and make sure all the numbers add up.”

“My numbers always add up.”

“Uh, yeah. Because I check them.” She’s wandered over to the hall closet to grab her coat by the time Tim gets up to walk her out.

“Thanks for all of this,” he says quietly. “Not just the presentation. The food, and the picking up supplies and everything.”

“Hawaii,” she replies.

“…What?”

“It’s where you’re sending me after this fiscal quarter,” she replies. “Two weeks, all-inclusive, presidential suite.”

“I’ll make the call personally,” he promises, opening the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Take care of the baby. And Luisa too.”

Tim chokes back a laugh and just hopes Jason didn’t hear that. He watches for a few seconds as Tam gets into the back of an Uber, and then goes back into the apartment.

It sort of feels like losing an ally once she’s gone.

Jason is sitting back on the couch now, not for comfort but seemingly to prop himself up while he holds Isa, staring down at her as if she might suddenly rear up and bite him. Which is unlikely, since she’s conked out again.

Unlikely, considering she’s down for the count again.

“So what are the odds you set up somewhere for her to sleep while you were here this morning?”

“Slim to none,” Jason replies darkly.

Something passes across his face—like grief—and Tim remembers where he picked Jason up. It occurs to him he hasn’t even asked yet what he was doing there.

He’ll tell me when he’s ready. Or he won’t. It’s not really my business how he says goodbye to the mother of his child…

“Alright. Well.” Tim considers the boxes. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not in the mood to build a crib tonight. “Either she sleeps in the carrier all night, or…I don’t know, we could make something temporary for her in your room.”

“Right, because I’m not worried enough about crushin’ her just in my hands, you think I’m putting’ her in the same bed as me?” Jason huffs.

“Well, you’d think with enough pillows on all sides of her—”

“Just get me some blankets and a laundry basket—assumin’ you own a laundry basket.”

“Of course I own a laundry basket,” Tim rolls his eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to wash my own clothes myself.”

“But foldin’ them’s still a stretch I take it.”

“Why are you complaining? No folded clothes frees up valuable basket space for accidental baby acquisition,” Tim says. “Though I never would have thought to make a crib from a laundry basket.”

“Yeah, because you grew up rich. You think workin’ moms in the Alley can spend a hundred bucks on a crib when they’ve got mouths to feed?”

“Guess not,” Tim allows, and goes to get the required supplies.

Once in the guestroom, he considers for a while where to place the makeshift crib, before shifting one of the night tables out of the way. By the time he finishes padding and folding blankets to ensure adequate padding, Jason has appeared in the room.

As he places the infant in the soft space and begins to tuck her in, Tim says, “Don’t put the blankets around her too tight.”

“I know.”

“And you should take off that cap, so she doesn’t overheat—”

“I know!” Jason hisses, although Tim doubts very much that he does. Still, he carefully removes the snug little hat the baby has worn since the hospital.

They both pause, staring.

“Why does her head look like that?” Jason asks after a beat, wary. “Did something happen? Did someone drop her, or…?” He might not be on board with this whole impromptu-parent thing, but clearly the idea of someone dropping a baby and walking away doesn’t sit well with him.

“That’s normal,” Tim tells him, trying to sound like he’s always known this and didn’t just read it on the internet yesterday. “It will go away.”

“Conehead baby is normal?”

“Exactly how do you expect a baby to fit through the birth canal? The plates in her skull will shift back into place as her brain grows, and they’ll eventually harden. But for now, they’re still not fused.”

Jason makes a face. “That’s a messed up system.”

“Well, so far in billions of years of mammals giving birth evolution hasn’t been able to come up with anything better, so…”

Jason shakes his head, looking faintly disturbed.

“I’m going to go open up the baby monitors I saw downstairs,” Tim says. “Be right back.”

Jason doesn’t reply.

As Tim leaves the room, he spies the older man hesitantly running a finger across Isa’s cheek like he’s not sure what to do. The baby turns in the direction of his finger in her sleep.

When he returns, though, Jason is sitting at the edge of his bed, several feet away from the baby, and staring off into the distance. Tim tries not to interrupt him as he sets up one monitor on the table beside the basket.

“She was going to tell me.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

“Isabel,” Jason replies, still not entirely focused. “She was planning to tell me about the baby. She wanted me in her life. If she hadn’t…”

He trails off, shaking his head.

If she hadn’t died.

Tim knows better than to offer sympathy. Instead, he asks, “How do you know?”

“She left a note. More an email. She was going to send it but…” he trails off and shrugs. “Plans change, I guess.”

“Do they?” Tim keeps a careful tone. “For you, I mean. About what you’re going to do?”

Jason doesn’t answer right away, to the point that Tim wonders if he even heard them. Then,

“I don’t know,” he says at last. “No. Maybe if she lived, it might be different.” He meets Tim’s eyes, like he’s expecting judgment, and asks, “What would you do?”

“No idea,” Tim replies in total honesty. “I’ve never even considered being a parent.”

“Really? Not once?”

“No.”

“Even when Blondie got knocked up?” Off Tim’s surprised look, he adds, “Yeah, I heard about that. Never thought about doing the ‘right’ thing? Getting married, settling down, playing dad?”

“No. Our lives were too complicated—are too complicated.”

“They weren’t always.”

Tim snorts a mirthless laugh. “My life was always complicated. My parents weren’t exactly the gold standard for raising kids, and then after—well, I never figured any of us would live long enough to have children.”

This time it’s Jason that gives a huff of almost laughter.

“There I go again,” he drawls, “breaking the mold.”

“Setting impossible standards,” Tim agrees. “Spontaneous resurrection, improbable baby—next thing you’ll singlehandedly bring about world peace.”

“Whoa, now, let’s not get crazy,” Jason says, pretending concern. “Gotta leave something for the Justice League to do in their abundant spare time.”

“Fair point.” Tim glances out the window; the sky is clear tonight, no sign of the bat signal, but he knows better than to think Gotham is quiet. He checks the time on his phone and nods to himself. “Speaking of spare time, I’m going to head out for a few hours.”

“Patrol?”

“Actually, I think I’ll see what my friend Ives is up to.” He gives Jason a quick summary of his conversation with Damian. “Plausible deniability and all. I doubt demon brat will be interested enough to check, but you never know when that Wayne paranoid will set in.”

“Right,” Jason says, a distracted note in his voice.

Tim hesitates, watching Jason fiddle awkwardly with the baby monitor. “I don’t have to, though. If you need me to, I can just stick around here. There’s still preliminary research to do for that mob case, or I can start checking into potential families…”

“No. I’m fine. Just do whatever it is you normally do.”

“Try to sound a little more convincing there, Todd.”

“Screw you.”

Tim rolls his eyes and heads for the door. “I’m off then. Probably still won’t be a late night, though, I got barely more sleep than you.”

“Even an hour is more…”

“Still. If you want, I can feed and check on her when I get back, so you don’t have to get up with her. Just promise you won’t, like, shoot me or something if I come into your room while you’re asleep.”

Jason looks almost disgusted. “You think I’m actually keeping a gun anywhere near me while there’s a baby in the room?”

The indignation on his face is almost endearing, and Tim can’t fight the temptation to tease. “Aw, look, your Bruce is showing.”

Jason brandishes the monitor. “So help me, I’ll stuff this down your throat.”

“But then you can’t hear my pearls of wisdom,” Tim shoots back, though he’s quickly backing out of the room. “And you know you’re dying to.”

“About as much as I’d like to move to Antarctica.”

“I’m sure Clark has enough space in the Fortress of Solitude.”

“Get out of here before I kill you and it wakes up the baby.”

⁂⁂⁂

Just a reminder that in this time of the pandemic, a lot of people are being laid off or facing dire health circumstances. Writing, drawing, creating podfics, etc., is a major outlet for a lot of creative people to deal with the stress of what's going on when we feel there's not much else we can contribute. Likewise, fandom content is keeping a lot of people entertained and helping them check out when stuff gets to be too much.

Your feedback goes a LONG way to help content creators feel like they're having some small impact on the world when it often feels like we're unable to do anything. So please, take thirty seconds out of your day, and leave a comment or a question, or reblog/forward our work to your friends and family to read. Whether it's me or some other author/artist in whatever fandoms you follow, spread the love.

XOXO ~ Violet

PS: For Goddess' sake, STAY HOME! It's not even about you keeping yourself safe, but not passing on a virus that could kill someone who is immunocompromised. The longer people insist on ignoring social-distancing and quarantine, the longer this whole crisis is going to last. So do the responsible thing--stay home and read fanfiction!

Next Chapter

#jaytim #timjay #babyfic #kidfic #slow build #slow burn #Jason Todd #tim drake #tamara fox #accidental baby acquisition #original character: luisa ardila #baby isa #adulting

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