red hood

JASON TODD / RED HOOD / 26. died on the job, got better. written by maya.

[crowbcrs]

@brdwctcher

You haven’t been around. The accusation has been playing on repeat in Jason’s mind since it was first lodged at him, right before he took a dive off the edge of the rooftop.

Though Jason still maintained that a lot of what Dick said that night had been utter bullshit, his parting words left a lasting impression. Jason hasn’t been around. He actively avoids Dick, even when they aren’t beefing. He spent more time at the manor after Dick’s “death” than he had in the past several years prior, and then vanished promptly the instant Dick returned. And it isn’t because Jason doesn’t like Dick -- love him, whatever. It’s more because it feels like some betrayal of who he is now, who he’s had to become to survive, to miss the comfort of having an older brother. 

But if the hurt in Dick’s voice was anything to go by, it’s high time to try and get past all that bullshit. After all, Jason can’t keep making fun of Bruce for being emotionally constipated if he can’t manage the occasional conversation about feelings either. 

Sure, he could’ve come in the “normal” way, but scaling up the side of Dick’s apartment building is arguably more of the actual norm in their family. Doorbells went outta fashion long before Dick or Jason arrived on the scene. As such, Jason is crouching on Dick’s fire escape, rapping his knuckles against glass. “Hey,” he says, locking eyes with Dick through the windowpane. “Can I come in? I have salmon.”

[crowbcrs]

@hawkeshct

Jason only barely stifles a groan at the sight of a familiar shade of green at the edge of his sightline. Connor was a good person. And not a dull one that he could trick into thinking he was also a good person, or an incompetent one that he could easily brush aside. No, Connor was an ass-kicking, irritatingly intelligent good person, who also happened to be his best friend’s brother, which made this a far more complicated conversation than Jason was interested in having.

“Green Arrow,” Jason greets, in his best ‘pay no attention to the grenade launcher behind me’ voice. “I gotta say, you look absolutely radiant this evening. New bandana? New skincare regimen? Gotta be careful, you know, winter weather’s pretty hard on the face.”

[crowbcrs]

spdrsmn‌:  

    “ well, i’m glad to here you haven’t been permanently fused with a hunk of plastic.  i’d be worried. ”  peter actually tips his head back and gives a raucous laugh.  “ as far as superpowers go, that’s a pretty badass one.  i can’t pull that off. ”  peter hops up onto the railing easily and crosses his arms over his chest.  

“ no pincers, only two extra eyes !!  i am more flexible than average.  stronger than average, can walk further up walls than average, and holy hell can i take a beating. ”  he gives a mock bow from his perch.  “ as much as i’d love to treat you to a gorgeous platter of whatever it is you eat at taco bell, my mask actually doesn’t come off, dinner or no. ”

Jason honestly startles a little at the laugh, ‘cause, you know, Red Hood doesn’t usually put people in a laughing mood. “Walk up walls? Like you’re -- sticky, or whatever?” he asks, voice lifting in curiosity. “Never heard somebody say getting their ass beat was a superpower.”

That bit was familiar, anyway -- Bruce had been so strict about identities while he was growing up that Jason had internalized a fair bit of his paranoia. “I mean, with a fit like that, why would you ever wanna take it off?” Jason deadpans, as if he did not spend his youth galavanting around in bright green underwear. “Shame, though. Taco Bell sounds fucking incredible right now.”

[crowbcrs]

redarrowes‌:  

roy should be worrid, probably, about the revelation of a price on jason’s head.  but, honestly?  the kruglovs aren’t the most dangerous people who have wanted jason dead, and here he is, making pancakes.  jason’s a big boy – he can handle himself.  and if he can’t, he should know that he can call roy to help.  so no reason to worry more than just a teensy tiny bit right now.  

he puts up his hands in faux-surrender when he stares down the length of an intimidating wooden spoon.  “ hey, i don’t tell dick your business.  same as i don’t tell you dick’s business. ”  roy’s got this ‘being best buds with two brothers who rarely get along’ thing down to a science.  “ why aren’t you speaking to him, though ??  did one of you do something? ” 

Jason ladles a little batter onto the griddle, letting the question hang in the air. The truth is that he’s kind of embarrassed about their argument the other night. The fight had compounded, as it always tended to do with Dick or Bruce, and he’d had an even looser control on his temper than usual. 

“Saw him on patrol,” Jason says grimly. “It’s been, what -- six months? Since he got... since his accident. He’s not ready. He keeps going like this he’s gonna end up gorked. Anyway, I chewed him out for it, which, admittedly I could have done a little more delicately, but-- ” Jason has a hard time admitting just how sick to his stomach he’d gotten at the sight of Dick back in costume. “Whatever. I don’t wanna drag you into it.”

[crowbcrs]

@ofquinzels

Jason’s relationship with the rest of the Gotham Rogues was complicated, to say the least, especially given that they were such a diverse group. There were those he outright despised and would, given the right opportunity, gladly put six feet under. And then there were those he considered to be... part of the local color. Harley Quinn, while highly dangerous and also possibly an accomplice to his former murder, fell squarely within the second category. 

“Dr. Quinzel,” Jason sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He rises from a crouch, looks toward the glittery figure in his periphery. “Please tell me those police sirens aren’t for you and my laboriously acquired stakeout spot is not about to get overtaken by pigs.”

[crowbcrs]

brdwctcher‌:  

It’s not that Dick forgets, not really. He knows what Jason went through. What they all went through, when Dick.. died. God, isn’t that the mark of a Robin these days? Having died at some point? And even if his was only for a few moments, minutes at the most, it still happened. His heart stopped, he was dead. And that’s what everyone believed. Dick remembers the hurt - he remembers just how hard it had been for Jason, finding out it was all a lie. “I know how hard it was, Jason - I know. I remember. It wasn’t what I wanted.” Dick could easily defend himself here. He knows. Spyral wasn’t his idea. It wasn’t what he wanted. Lying to everyone, pretending he was dead, putting them all through that - Dick never wanted to do that. But pointing fingers now, so long after it’s all happened - what’s the point? It won’t help either of them. And it won’t change what happened. Or how much he hurt his family.

“I’m not… denying that, Jason.” He’s not stupid. He knows he’s important to people. To his family, his friends. Dick’s not so much of a martyr to think it wouldn’t effect them, if something happened to him. But he also knows he needs to be true to himself. He can’t… lose that part of himself. He’s not even sure who he is without that part of himself. “Listen, I know - I know people need me. Me, not Nightwing. But I… I need Nightwing, Jay. I can’t just give that part of myself up. I don’t.. think I know who I am, without him.” It’s pathetic, he knows. He’s spent years trying to figure out just that, and he still doesn’t have a goddamn answer.

At Jason’s reaction he can’t help but let out a soft sigh. The truth is.. Dick knows he’s not doing the right thing. He knows he’s being selfish, throwing himself into this when he’s not really recovered enough for it. But this is what he needs to do. Somehow, he has to find a way to push through all of that, and hope Jason and the others will support him through it, whether they like it or not. He gets the feeling, with Jason, that’s too much to ask. And really, that’s fair. Dick knows. “Because - if I don’t do this, I won’t be who you all need me to be anymore. And that’s worse than - than anything that could happen to me out here.”

“Yeah, you can say what you want,” Jason shoots back, wielding his hurt like a switchblade, “but I never would’ve done that to you. I would’ve hacked my own arm off before I did that to you.” Spyral had marked yet another one of those moments where they were all reminded that they were raised by a certain man with certain values, and as much as they might try to take on only the best parts of Bruce, some of the worst of him had filtered through along with it. 

His jaw tightens in frustration, and while there’s some small part of him that sympathizes with Dick, there’s a much larger part insisting that, measured against the thought of losing him, his explanation sounded like the dumbest thing Jason had ever heard. “Well, maybe, and, hey, I’m just thinking off the top of my head here, you could spend this time trying to figure that out. Actually seems like a pretty fucking perfect opportunity that’s landed right in your lap.”

Jason is acutely aware of his pointless this argument is. They’re well-matched for stubbornness, and that knowledge has him backing towards the edge of the rooftop, hand flexing at his side.

“Let’s be clear about one thing – I don’t need shit from you, Grayson. The rest of them might have to put up with this crap, but I sure as fuck don’t.” That much was true, at least. Jason had spent years alone, had worked hard to make sure he’d never again rely on anyone but himself. Whatever loyalty and comfort happened to pass through his life, he considered it an extra yet undoubtedly temporary bonus. It was clearly the right way to live, given how this situation was panning out. “Give me a call when you realize what a monumentally stupid decision this is. I’ll be waiting on that or yet another funeral invite.”

And with that, Jason raises his grappling hook and steps off the edge of the building, the stomach-dropping free-fall somehow less intense than the feeling of growing dread at what he’s just learned. 

...Bug Dick’s phone later? Yeah. Bug his phone later.

[crowbcrs]

kcrianders‌:  

starter for @crowbcrs​!

“ I just can’t watch you eat like that anymore, Jason. I’m worried next time it’ll be soup from a water bottle. ” Kory sighs, albeit fondly, and drops them both in a secluded area of the parking lot. Or rather, Jason directly into an abandoned cart, and takes control to steer him towards the entrance to Target. It’s not that today is the first time that she’s seen him eat from something… confusing. But it’s today she realised it’s not from too many unclean dishes, and rather no dishes at all. She’s very fond of his mannerisms, most of the time, but this time she just — mostly wanted to shake him. “ Or cheese straw chopsticks. Delicious, but… mushy. You deserve better than pulp. ”

Jason, who has in fact eaten Spaghetti-O’s out of a Hydroflask more than once this week, flashes Kory an amused smile. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Though I maintain that was a real stroke of innovation. We don’t even need Roy anymore, I can be our full time engineer.” He’s arguably a little too big to be sitting in even this section of a shopping cart, but he simply tucks his legs up against his chest and lets his arms spill over the sides. Besides being pretty fun, he gleaned a very specific kind of satisfaction from drawing the disapproval of the upper-middle-class white people who frequented the Target establishment at this time of day. “What are we thinking -- Cravings by Chrissy Teigen or Create Delicious by Rachael Ray?”

[crowbcrs]

spdrsmn‌:  

    “ ugh, are you kidding me ??  i wish i excreted the stuff.  it’d be way less expensive. ”  he sighs and gives an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders.  “ i’ve got this friend – he just got himself a set of spidery powers, and he gets to secrete his own webs.   just isn’t fair.  some guys just end up with all the luck. ”  rich, dreamy, and web-self-sufficient.  peter clears his throat.  

    “ oh, a punk ass bitch ??  well, damn.  there go all my hopes and dreams.  what’s your deal ??  gamma radiation fuse your head with a bucket ??  what kinda bucket powers do you have ?? ”

Interesting that the number of spider people appeared to be multiplying. Combine that with Bruce’s adoption rate, and pretty soon there wouldn’t be enough civilians to save. “So, what, you’re just, like, more flexible? No pincers? No extra eyes under there?”

Bucket? Jason tries valiantly not to let that one ding his pride. “Nah. This comes off, but you gotta buy me dinner first.” Although, if the guy was out here paying for his own webbing, it was entirely possible he couldn’t afford it. “No powers. Oh, wait - I can do Busta Rhymes’ full verse in Look At Me Now without breaking. One power.”

[crowbcrs]

sirensmade‌:  

nico’s not sue why he hasn’t just insisted on leaving.  there’s a chance he could.  but there’s also a chance that mr. hood here has the place under some sort of surveillance, and even if nico manages to pull the wool over his eyes, the safety won’t last long.  that would cause nico all sorts of problems in his day and night job. he opens the drawer of the nearby credenza, rifling for anything of value until the sound of crushed glass catches his attention again. 

he smiles again, eyes flashing from the symbol on the man’s chest to his mask with some degree of measured interest.  “ i think we landed on ‘ the mistress, ’  but if you’re really asking – nico. call me a cab ??  it’s the least you can do, after threatening to murder me and all. ”

Oh, the drama. Threaten to shoot people once or twice and all of a sudden you’re a murderer. Jason considers the request for a couple dragging seconds before fishing his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll do you one better,” he says, pulling up the newfound access he has to Markey’s remote-less key system. Bless rich people and their propensity to make everything “smart” and electronic. “The Benz is now unlocked and revved up. Consider it a parting gift, from me to you.”

Jason fits his helmet over his head, then, and makes his way past Nico and back towards the window through which he first entered. “Well,” he starts, “It’s been real. Stay sharp and remember it’s never a bad idea to double bag it.” And with that piece of invaluable advice, Jason is gone, swinging purposefully over the balcony and back into the predictably inky darkness of another Gotham night.

[crowbcrs]

spdrsmn‌:  

 stare them down. ft. @crowbcrs​

peter’s pointed frown is obscured by the mask, but he hopes his body language conveys the disapproval his face can’t show.  “ hey !! tall, dark, and crabby ?? ”  peter crosses his arms over his chest.  “ you know, i’d say take a picture.  you know, the whole cliche, it’ll last longer line.  but you could just google me, if that’s easier. ”

    he holds his hand to his mouth, like he’s about to divulge a secret.  “ i’m spider-man.  i head you guys have a man bat.  what’s that like ?? ”

The address has a smirk curling the corner of his mouth; he’s heard of Spiderman, but with a name like that, Jason hadn’t actually expected him to be.. good. He might’ve thought the guy was Dick, the way he moved. “I just have so many questions,” he starts, tilting his head in mock curiosity. “Are you, like -- excreting the web stuff?”

“Batman is a punk ass bitch.” He considers saying ‘I’m the Red Hood’, but it sounds kind of dorky when he’s not holding a gun to someone’s head.

[crowbcrs]

batcain‌:  

    “barbara tried to teach me.”  cass is lucky, she supposes, that she feels more comfortable thinking these days, but she’s intensely aware of the things she can’t do, as compared to the rest of her family.  still, they’ve worked to accommodate her, regardless, so there’s not much worth complaining about.  her mind wanders, too, to the evenings spent curled up by dick’s side, listening to him read fairy-tales.  it makes her smile despite her sour mood.  “most of the time.  it’s like…” she hums, searching for the words, “it’s just lines.  squiggles.”

she rests her elbows on the table and pillows her chin on my interlocked fingers.  “i have to learn.  eventually.”

Dyslexia, maybe. Jason’s father had been dyslexic -- it was part of the reason he’d never made it through high school, gotten the kind of diploma that would’ve given him a chance at legitimate employment. In his neighborhood, there were always one or two kids who fell through the cracks because of undiagnosed learning disorders. “It’s like that for a lot of people,” he shrugs. “Sometimes there’s fonts and stuff that make it easier. And audiobooks -- these days everything good comes in an audiobook.”

Jason raises an eyebrow; something about the sentiment strikes him as odd. “Why’s that?” he asks. “Seems like you’ve done alright for yourself without it.”

[crowbcrs]

cfamazons‌: 

The call sounded pretty standard. A basic breaking and entering call, some idiot trespassing where he doesn’t belong. Exactly the kinda call a new kid on the beat would have to deal with, despite the fact that he knows he can handle more than that. He doesn’t exactly want to bring too much attention to that, so - he takes the call, makes his way out to take care of the situation. By the book. Fancy abilities left alone for now. He’s sure he won’t need them for something so simple.

Except, of course, it would be a vigilante. This one’s new from what he’s seen - though, Gotham throws all kinds of surprises at him. Something his dad had told him repeatedly when he said he was transferring to the GCPD, but Apollo knew where he wanted to be.

For a moment, Apollo doesn’t know exactly what he’s getting into here. He knows he’s ready for it, but he doesn’t know what it is. And then when the guy talks - it just confuses him that much more. Because that voice can’t be the voice he recognises. So something’s clearly very wrong here. “No. That’s not how we do things. It’s not how I do things.” Apollo answers, but he doesn’t back down. His gun feels heavy in his hand but he holds it steady - but with no intention to fire, truth be told. “How about we make a deal? Take that mask off, I put this away, and we talk about what you’re doing here. No harm no foul.”

In truth, he hasn’t thought about his old friend in years. It had been easier, in the beginning, to try and scrub his memories clean of every good thing he’d lost, Apollo included. Seeing him now is a painful shock to Jason’s system, and he instinctively reaches for the rage that clears his head — if it’s a choice between feeling hurt and feeling angry, he’ll choose the latter every time.

“Ooh, stern voice. But no,” Jason shrugs off his jacket and drops it on the ground. “If you want the mask off, I think you’re gonna have to come take it from me yourself. You’ve got plenty of cause, Good Cop. I’m a trespassing thug packing three unregistered firearms.” He rolls his shoulders back, widens his stance. “Come on. Take a swing.”

There is a small part of Jason that wants to spare Apollo from having to know this version of him, to guard the rose-colored memories he must have of his scrawny, energetic friend with heroic aspirations and a badly concealed Bowery accent. But there’s another part of him — a part of him that’s gotten exponentially louder since emerging from the pit — that’s always raring for a fight. Does he have a shot at winning against an (albeit watered down) Amazon? Probably not. But if he has to have this conversation, he’d prefer to do it with his fists.

[crowbcrs]

sirensmade‌:  

“ classy, ” nico repeats with a snort.  yeah, figures.  god forbid the winds blow someone hot and easy his way.  still, the news that all this is about to go up in metaphorical flames has nico edging towards somewhere near giddy.  god, he fucking loves the moment where everything goes tits up.  there’s plenty of other rich people in gotham; it’s not like nico’s livelihood is in danger.

   he gets up off the ottoman, slowly, so it’s clear that he’s not about to make a run for it.  “ so what you’re saying is my time here is limited ?? ”  he opens the china cabinet and drops a crystal wine glass, then another.  he’ll break the rest later, when he’s not trying to get it with unexpected company.  “ i have been dying to do that.  someone’s always going on about it, how rare it is.  snooze fest. ”  he sighs.  “ listen, if you’re not going to, as you so charmingly put it, hit it right, and you’re also about to blow up my spot here, can i just take a few things and go ??  i’m not gonna call the fucking cops on you. ”

Jason arches an interested eyebrow at the sound of shattering glass, though beyond that and an amused smile, he doesn’t react further. “You’re a little crazy, huh?” he asks mildly. It’s not exactly a turn off. Jason was raised on crazy, spent 90% of his time with a collection of people that were probably all some degree of certifiable. He laughs a little at the next remark -- he is perfectly fucking charming, thank you very much --  and shakes his head. “A for effort, Marilyn, but no, you can’t. Anyway, I’m just about done.”

He closes the lid of the laptop with a decisive click and returns the encryption key to its compartment. He should really just — leave, then, but for whatever reason he doesn’t. In lieu of making the good decision, he approaches the China cabinet, broken glass crunching under his combat boots. “So, before I take off, you gotta jog my memory,” his eyes flick up and down, a brief once-over, “where did we land on you telling me who you are?”

[crowbcrs]

redarrowes‌:   

“You’re a freak,” Roy mumbles as he shuffles over to the sink to wash his hands obediently.  Not like the germs won’t cook out, is all he’s saying.  Right?  That’s a thing that happens.  Watching Lian with Jason makes something clunk around in Roy’s chest, supremely off-beat.  It’s…nice, sweet.  He’s glad that he’s got a friend like Jason, glad that Jason’s taking to Lian, too.  It feels like two supremely vital pieces of Roy’s life fit together better than he’d even hoped for.  

Yeah, he thinks he will probably stop by after visiting Ollie.  Jason’s place is a unique sort of emotional way-station, and Roy has the wherewithal to hope that’s a two way street in this odd friendship.  Roy steps out of the way and hops up to set on the counter while Jason works.  “Yeah, that sounds good.  Slow weekends aren’t like you, though.  How’d you score downtime?”

Jason winces a little, even as he’s emptying a handful of chocolate chips into one hand, then an even smaller portion into Lian’s cupped palms. “Ah, well. You know the Kruglovs? They run arms through Gotham, Bludhaven, the outer boroughs? I’ve been working on tanking their business and I messed up and got caught. So, as of yesterday, they’ve got a pretty sizable price on my head.” He shrugs. Occupational hazard. “It’s a non-issue, their whole operation’s gonna be nothing but a wet spot on the floor by Monday morning. I’m laying low until then.”

A sudden and deeply irritating thought crosses his mind. “No telling Dick,” Jason says sternly, pointing an accusatory wooden spoon at Roy. He knows that Roy was Dick’s friend first -- and Kory’s, and Donna’s, and Bruce’s, maybe he’s got a problem, whatever -- but he’s not trying to score a ticket to a totally hypocritical lecture on being reckless, especially when he’s already this irritated with his brother to begin with. “We aren’t on speaking terms right now, I’m freezing him out until he starts being less of a butthead.”

[crowbcrs]

rcdrxbin‌:   

“ Oh, yeah? Guess it is kind of comforting Pinky and the Brain could have become reality. ” Tim retorts under his breath, too pre-occupied with the figures on the screen to make sure they were hidden in the system. Last thing he feels like today is watching goons break into Jason’s place. If only because he’s certain Tim would be the one that had to put up whatever IKEA furniture had to be replaced. Hell knew most of the Maroni’s were idiots, but whoever did this would likely catch onto anyone trying to steal what data they could. “ You know if it’s taken weeks you could’ve called earlier, right? I could have made a punch card for you by now. Five favours and I get a no question’s asked. ” It takes another few minutes or so, but then Tim can finally sit back with a sigh. “ Alright… Got the address. Bit too close to the Riddle Factory for my liking, but i’m doubting Nygma’s on this. Access code is… Huh. Sofia Falcone’s birthday. That’s odd. ” Tim frowns, but no matter how much more he tries to dig - it’s the same information coming up. “ Either they’re playing at Romeo and Juliet, or they’ve got a stake in this too. ” He saves what information might be useful before backing out of there, and because he can, drops them a little virus too. As a gift. “ What are you thinking, they’ve got it stored in the safehouse? ”

Tim’s right, he could’ve called earlier. The uncomfortable truth is that even though it’s been years since he and Bruce called a truce, and Tim’s not even a member of the family he has any real beef with, it’s still difficult to coax himself into asking any of them for help. He doesn’t want to-- need them, rely on them the way he used to. Back in the day he used to want Bruce’s approval so bad he’d stop breathing if the man asked. Jason had learned the hard way that that kind of uncomplicated devotion was dangerous. “I’ve been known to be a little arrogant. Thought I had it sorted myself,” Jason shrugs. “Anyway, you need a no question’s asked from me? I’m, like, the least judgmental member of the orphanage.” 

Shit, Jason thought grimly. He could’ve sworn the two families were feuding just a few months back, but it’s not impossible that the reconciliation was a happy and mutually beneficial affair. In any case, the Maroni’s contacts and the Falcone’s funds made for a distressing combination. “Some new type of smack,” Jason sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s bad shit, basically poison, so they’re selling it in The Narrows instead main city. I wanna torch their supply but I haven’t been able to figure out where they’re storing it-- think maybe the tighter security on this place is a lead.”

[crowbcrs]

brdwctcher‌:  

It’s not that Dick doesn’t understand how scary this is. He was shot in the head. He was in a coma. He’s seen the scans, the reports, the test results. He’s felt the result of the injury he sustained. He knows it’s not a simple thing to try and recover from. And he knows it’s going to take more than a few months and wishful thinking to get past it. Truth be told.. Dick knows he probably needs more time before he comes out here and does what he’s doing right now.

But this is all Dick knows. The force won’t let him back until he clears official medical checks. And he can’t just… not do this. He can’t just not help people. That’s just not how he works. Without this.. Dick’s not really sure what he is anymore. So whether he’s truly ready for it or not, he’s going to do this. And he’d rather do it with the support of his family, but.. he can survive without it. He just hopes Jason won’t force him to make that kind of choice.

“Okay.” Dick agrees, not even bothering to argue. Jason’s right, and really Dick feels a touch guilty for lying about it. Jason deserves better than that. They all do. “So maybe you’re right. But - what else am I supposed to do in that kind of situation? Let people suffer because I’m worried it might give me a headache? That’s not - how we work.” Whatever else Jason might say, however he behaves, even if he acts like he doesn’t care, the reality is he wouldn’t go after criminals the way he does if he wasn’t trying to help people. At least - that’s what Dick chooses to believe about his brother. That’s why he needs to believe that Jason will get it. “Jason.. I need to do this. I’m not - me if I’m not out here. I can’t work, I can’t do - anything else. And I can’t just sit around and wait until I forget what I’m supposed to be. I don’t expect you to like it, but can you at least understand why I’m doing this?”

“A headache?” Jason repeats, incredulous. “You think that’s what’s at stake here, a headache? Thanks to you, I know exactly how it’ll feel when this shitty comeback falls apart. I still haven’t fucking forgiven you for Spyral, when we thought that-- and I had to--” Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Jason’s throat starts to close up. It’s mortifying. He breaks eye contact immediately, looking down at the streetlights as he hastily attempts re-wind whatever the hell is rapidly unspooling in his chest. After a pause that feels like forever, he’s still not meeting Dick’s eyes when he says, “You needed to do that, too, right? Well, fuck that. That’s not an excuse anymore. However much you think people need Nightwing, they need Dick Grayson a hell of a lot more.”

Of course Jason understands. Jason Peter Todd is legally dead, and whoever it was that crawled out of the Lazarus Pit built their new life around the Red Hood. Take that away, and he’s... nothing. Some East End loser without a high school diploma or a family. He’s surprised to learn that Dick thinks of Nightwing in the same way -- especially because, unlike Jason, he has the unconditional adoration of all his siblings and a real life job -- but he guesses it might just be another shitty complex they both inherited from Bruce. 

So yeah, he understands. But that doesn’t mean he cares. Dick may be an unrelenting martyr, but Jason’s still a selfish bastard, and if it wasn’t such an embarrassing sentiment he might say ‘I don’t really give a shit about all the people you’ll hypothetically save. I only give a shit about you, you insufferable cock knob.’ “No,” he lies. “I don’t understand. Do something else. Get a nursing degree. Get a job at a nonprofit. Or just, fucking-- I don’t know, wait, wait until you’re back at 100%. Why does this have to be now?” 

[crowbcrs]

@iamaweapon

After learning Dick was patrolling again, Jason knew it was only a matter of time until Damian turned up at his front doorstep. He didn’t suspect they’d talk about it -- what was there to talk about, really, it’s not as if either of them have a chance at convincing Dick to give it up. But even still, Jason’s place, as stark a contrast as it was from the luxury of Wayne manor, served as its own kind of safe haven from all the family bullshit.

Damian is the only other person with a key, so when Jason hears the sound of the lock twisting and the door handle shaking, he barely glances up from his Proust. “Hey, evil spawn,” he greets. “Got a question for you, actually. Miss O’Flanagan down the hall never got her cat fixed and now she’s got, like, five kittens on her hands. All the no-kill shelters in the area are filled up, so she keeps tryna’ push one off onto me.” Jason looks thoughtfully around his (admittedly pretty small) apartment. He’d have to actually quit smoking. And get some kind of lock for the hallway closet where he keeps his grenade launcher. “What do you think? Is this place even big enough for a cat?”