After over a decade on this app… I have been tempted into starting a fan fiction blog
I’ll be sharing probably exclusively tickle fics, if that’s not your cup of tea, this is probably not the blog for you
I’ll update this post as this account evolves but for now everything will be SFW and will involve the Batfamily
I don’t plan on taking requests! Like probably ever, I am very bad at fulfilling writing prompts my brains hates them, but I am always open to chit chat 💖
Edit because apparently it must be said! I do not ship any of the Batfamily members together and everything I have written is platonic! Not saying I won’t write romantic pairings in the future, but it certainly won’t be between siblings (pseudo or otherwise)
Summary: Tim tickles his oldest brother all the time, Dick sees no problem with this. Jason seas a very large problem with this and asks Dick to correct the power divide. around 4.8k
Notes: this was two fics smushed into one, and I added an over arching plot to both sooo I really hope it flows well but if not… that it’s why lol. As always, minimal editing. I didn’t exactly mean to leave Damian out, but it definitely reads like he’s not yet involved in the family.
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Tim getting bolder and braver was becoming a double edged sword for Dick.
On one hand, his shy, introspective, quiet little brother was coming out of his shell and having more fun. On the other hand, it happened to be at Dick’s expense.
Touch, delicate and friendly touch, were not inherent or instinctive to Tim like they were his big brother. It had taken years for Tim to accept touch without getting startled or clamping up.
So the first few times Tim casually dared to poke at Dick or tickle him in passing, Dick was ecstatic, like almost couldn’t contain his excitement ecstatic. He felt pride that his little brother was comfortable enough to initiate play with him. A previously foreign concept to the little guy, and here he was seeking it out.
He always hightailed it the other direction after he did it. So Dick would giggle and pretend to be the slightest bit annoyed like Tim had truly gotten him. He tickled Tim plenty but he let him get away with his little pokes and prods without direct retaliation in fear that Tim would stop.
But that had been awhile ago. Tim was much further down the path of family bonding and sibling antics, practically an old pro by now.
Meaning Dick didn’t need to tread so lightly anymore. He honestly probably would have let it go on forever, but Jason had to go and point it out to him…
Tim left the kitchen with an energy drink in one hand, and used his other to poke his index finger right into Dick’s ribcage.
A yelp left the older boy’s mouth while he instinctively reached over to press on the spot and dispel the ticklish feeling.
Tim was already through the entryway and halfway down the hall by the time Jason questioned his brothers’ behavior.
“You know what, I’m just gonna say it. That’s fucking bullshit,” he had a particularly sour frown.
Dick furrowed his brow and looked down the hallway where Tim had now fully disappeared. “What? That’s his first can in like two days—“
“Not the drink dumbass. I’m talking about him getting neglected kid privilege. I was a neglected kid! You would have tackled my ass and put me in an arm bar for that shit,” he grumbled.
“What?” Dick was more confused now. He went over the interaction in his head and… oh.
“You let that little punk tickle the crap out of you all the time but if I so much as look at you funny—“
“You’re so dramatic, Jay.” Dick rolled his eyes, catching up to Jason’s point. “And he does not ‘tickle the crap out of me.’ He’s just a kid—“
“He’s 15. That shit was maybe necessary when he was a newbie, now he’s more than able to take care of himself.”
“Whatever you say, Jay.” Dick tried to wave off his concern.
“It’s blatant favoritism.”
“It is not,” Dick elbowed him in the side.
“So you’re saying I could start doing it and you wouldn’t retaliate in any way?” Jason raised not only an eyebrow but a hand as well, and it was rapidly moving towards Dick’s ribs.
“No!” He quickly caught the wrist and pulled his brother’s hand far away from his side. “I’m not saying that at all,” he huffed tossing it away. Jason smirked like his point had been made and Dick found himself a little stumped.
It was kinda true. He had always been more rough with Jason than Tim, but that was about the nature of their character and who they were when they met more than anything. Jason would not have handled kid gloves well, he likely would have ripped them off and beat Dick with them.
Just like now, Dick knew when he was being goaded, Jason had that look in his eyes and he was practically radiating ‘FIGHT ME’ energy.
“But you can try, if you’d like.” Dick challenged.
Jason seemed to narrow his eyes, staring deep into Dick’s own like he was searching for an answer. Fully expecting an all out attack, Dick felt his muscles readying to move, like a spring building kinetic energy.
Jason finally sighed and slumped back in his chair. “I promised Alfie there would be no blood on this visit.” The spring relaxed, Dick deflating a bit in his seat. “And I told him I’d help him with the garden anyways,” Jason got up from his chair, a little bit of a pout in his voice.
“Better get to it then,” Dick eyed him like he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Nodding, Jason walked further into the kitchen to dump his plate in the dishwasher and wash his hands. His movements seem normal enough but the older vigilante knew better than to drop his guard.
So when Jason reached out on his way by and tried to grab a handful of Dick’s ribcage, he jutted to the right to avoid his hand. Unfortunately, Jason was just as aware of Dick’s awareness of him and had his other hand ready to tickle into his neck.
It was barely anything, the smallest scoff left his lips, but it was the principle.
“Jason!” He was on his feet and careening through the halls while Jay shouted insults over his shoulder trying to keep distance between them.
When Dick finally caught him, he of course made him pay for his crime in the form of holding him down and tickling all over his back before enlisting a nearby Cass to tickle his knees at the same time.
When Jason’s eyes were filled with mirthful tears, and his smug energy had been thoroughly corrected, Dick fell onto the carpet beside him, shoulders touching, Cass falling into his other side.
“Do you really think I take it too easy on Tim?” Dick asked in earnest.
“Yes.” Came from both of his little siblings, one still panting and catching his breath.
He lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at Cass.
“He’s provoking.” Cass shrugged.
“Maybe he’s just—“
“The little brat is asking for it, literally.” Jason chuckled to himself and Dick bit back a comment about Jason’s antics from 15 minutes ago and how hypocrisy is unbecoming.
Dick looked back at Cass for more confirmation and her nod was more reassuring than Jason’s complaining. “He’s trying to play. Play back.” She offered.
He thought for a moment, mourning the shy, quiet, reserved little boy he took under his wing. He dug down to find the brighter side, Tim was becoming a goofy, silly, obnoxious teenager. It was a nice reflection to his usual serious and work minded side. Replacing grief with pride, Dick decided to get to work.
He had a lot of catching up to do.
——————
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Cass (he definitely didn’t trust just Jason), but Dick felt the need to ease into this little experiment. If Cass was wrong (unheard of), he didn’t want to erase a safe space he and Tim and inadvertently created.
So the next time Tim walked by and tased into his side, Dick pulled him into a very loose headlock, if it could even be called that, and gave him a few pokes to his ribcage. No pinning, no chasing, no worst spots, just a quick response.
Tim seemed to beam at the continuation of their usually short game and grinned ear to ear while he batted softly at Dick’s hands and urged him to let go while he fully leaned into his big brother.
He did it again, Tim dancing his fingers across Dick’s collarbone had him snapping his neck to his shoulder to pinch Tim’s hand in place.
“Hehey!” Tim giggled when Dick reached behind him and started squeezing at Tim’s hip. He let go quickly and let Tim start back into his pace through the manor, probably down to the cave.
And on it went, Dick just started poking back, and Tim seemed to notice and hadn’t shown any signs of stopping, so it was a win. Cass was of course, correct. (It doesn’t matter that it was Jason’s point first, he’d rather die than admit Jason was right about something).
He let his degree of retaliation vary, just to keep Tim on his toes of course.
Sprawled across the living room arm chair, yapping with Wally on the phone, he knew his little brother couldn’t resist messing with him. As predicted, Tim scratched across the bottom of Dick’s foot as he went by.
This time Tim finally seemed to expect Dick’s reaction, and was double timing it out the French doors.
“Tim!” Dick bellowed in what seem to be extremely practiced faux irritation “One sec, Walls—“ he tossed the phone down and started running after his brother. “Get back here, gremlin!” Faded away from the speaker.
Wally was mid conversation when Dick put him on verbal pause, he heard silence for a few moments, then squeaky protests that sounded like the littlest Robin, followed by a stream of giggles and light shoves.
“Okay I’m back,” all of the sudden came through loud and clear.
“You sound busy,” Wally grinned through the phone.
Dick chuckled. “Nah, just had to get the little bird contained.”
Wally heard a very distinctive, ‘h-hehelp mehehe!’ through the phone.
‘He can’t hear you, birdie. Now quiet down I’m on the phone.’ Dick lied through his teeth before speaking back into the phone. “Go ahead. You were complaining about—“
“Barry, right,” with a shake of the head at Dick’s ridiculous antics, he started back into his stream of consciousness. He knew his friend was listening, even if he could still hear soft giggles and laughs. Dick was a great multitasker like that. He had a feeling Tim would be passed out in his brother’s lap well before the end of their phone call.
———————
Tim had of course noticed, just like he noticed everything.
He was trying his hardest not to acknowledge it though, because if he did, Dick might a) stop and b) know that Tim was very much on purpose trying to get the snot tickled out of him all the time.
It’s not his fault, it just happened to be one of very few things that made him forget about everything on his ridiculously full plate. He just wasn’t sure how else to ask.
At first, he thought Dick let him get away with it because he didn’t want everyone around to know he was so ticklish so he kept his reaction small and didn’t go after Tim in the moment.
As he got a little older, he came to the realization that Dick was placating him, like letting a little kid win a board game. It bothered him quite a bit, never one to take pity or a helping hand when he didn’t have to; He contemplated stopping all together out of embarrassment.
But, he thought back to feeling powerful and figured he could let Dick treat him like a kid, as long as it was actually, Tim who was pulling one over on Dick. He decided to roll with it because to be honest, getting to reduce The Richard Grayson, to giggles and scoffs felt like power incarnate, even if it was just for a second.
With that in mind, he decided to take at least a little bit of advantage of his brother, poking and prodding more and more all the time. Almost always when Jason was in the vicinity since he was clearly irritated by Tim getting away with what he got tickled to pieces for.
—————-
Dick just looked way too peaceful. Sprawled across the couch, one hand behind his head, TV playing the news softly on the background.
Tim couldn’t help but test his luck. With Dick getting more and more playful seemingly out of no where, Tim hadn’t actually gotten away with tickling the eldest in weeks. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to strike.
Tentatively, stealthily as he could muster, Tim reached over the back of the couch. Inch by inch, his hand moved forward and he kept a close eye on Dick’s breathing pattern, it stayed even and Tim took a deep breath, as silently as possible.
His fingers hovered at Dick’s armpit and he started to moved forward to reach him.
Before he moved a hand closed around his wrist.
“Crap, wait!” Was all he got out before he was yanked forcefully over the back of the couch.
“Nice try, kiddo,” Dick’s voice was as bright, and smug as Tim had ever heard it, no sleep lingered in his words.
“You weren’t even sleeping, you jerk!” He landed in a heap.
“You were the one about to tickle me! I’m just returning the favor,” Dick blew a raspberry right into Tim’s neck to get him to stop battling his limbs.
“HEHEY!” Tim squeaked trying to stretch away from the sensation. “Dick, come on! I was just-“
“You were just about to tickle me awake, which would have been so rude.” Dick managed to pull Tim into his chest, and squish him between himself and the couch cushions.
“Maybe you deserve a taste of your own medicine,” Tim grunted trying to pull his legs up to push against the back of the couch and dislodge his brother.
“What?!” Dick suddenly rolled forward, Tim’s knees curling up was the only thing stopping Dick from completely pressing him against the seat cushions now. “I would never, do something like that!” His feigned innocence was wasted on a little brother who knew much better by now.
“That’s such bu-buhuhull shihihit, you ‘n Ja-ahahahAHAHAY!” Tim’s argument was lost to uncontrollable giggles pouring out of him as Dick’s fingers reached his ribcage to start clawing his fingers in.
“Me ‘n Jay, what?” Dick teased, scratching at the soft skin where ever he could find it. Tim’s eyes were squeezed shut, his chin tucked down to his chest, shoulders up to his ears.
“I’m not- that’s doesn’t work on mehehe anymore!” Tim’s embarrassed flush was luckily hidden by his already red cheeks from laughing so much.
Dick rolled his eyes and removed a hand to reach down and pinch at bony kneecaps, it earned him heel to the shin— but it was worth it when Tim shot his legs down straight and Dick could pull Jason’s preferred brand of brotherhood; smothering. Literally.
Rolling further with their legs now entangled and able to fully squish Tim beneath him, Tim knew exactly what he was doing.
“Dick! I can’t breathe!” Came out extremely muffled as Tim’s words were swallowed by couch cushions. Pointy elbows tried to ram into Dick’s ribcage, but it’s not like Tim could gain any momentum to pack a real punch.
“What was that, Timmy? Can’t quite make out what you’re saying, you shouldn’t mumble so much,” he grinned and let his fingers get back to their very important work; Working between Tim’s ribs and even venturing to press into his stomach where they found purchase.
Dick was sure new bruises would come with this stunt as elbows and heels worked to dislodge him. Tim’s head was under his chest, cheek pressed against the cushions and muffled laughter and shrieks reverberated through Dick’s chest.
Tim tried to rise up a few times, but if he managed to get any room between himself and the couch Dick would just explore the area with vigor and Tim would inevitably collapse back into the leather fabric below him under his brother’s crushing weight.
Dick could tell Tim was trying to get something out through his panicked cackles so he let off for a moment, letting oxygen fill back into the kid’s lungs. “Yes? Did you need something under there?” Dick asked, sitting up in his knees. Tim’s arms remained pulled tight to his side in a protective measure, taking in large breaths while he could.
“Air! You fucking asshole! I need aiAHAHA—” Unimpressed with his attitude, Dick’s hands converged to grab a handful of each of Tim’s sides. Right above his hips where it was a little soft and pliant, his fingers dug into the front, his thumbs tasering the backs. Tim’s shrieking laughter cut off in silent wheezes.
Never one to defend himself well from a tickle attack, Tim just balled his hands into fists like he could concentrate the ticklish feelings out through them, never mind that he could use them to fight his brother off.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Dick grinned continuing to pinch away. As his fingers dug further in, Tim’s hands finally gripped his wrists but he couldn’t find the strength to push or pull him away. “A few little pokes and all your manners go out the window?”
“Yuh-you wanna talk about manners, circus boy?” Tim still managed to sass.
“Circus boy?!” Dick feigned offense. “You’re just asking for it now,” he collapsed back down with more force than necessary, Tim once again squished beneath him.
“You’re way heavier than you look,” the younger hero grumbled from his flattened position.
“Yep, just keep the insults rolling baby bird.”
Giggles turned to muffled shrieks as Dick blew a raspberry into the sensitive skin between his neck and shoulder, then the back of his neck, then the other side of his neck.
“stopstopstopstopstop!” the squeaky chant came out much more desperate than Tim anticipated.
Dick did not oblige, instead just administering raspberry after raspberry.
“Youhuhu didn’t even let m-mehehe get you first!” Tim shrieked out.
“But you almost did, and intent is enough.”
“Since when? You always let me—“
“I could be wrong. But I think you’ve had an uptick in bravery lately, and I just need to make sure you know who’s the boss around here,” Dick grinned. “Where was it you were about to tickle me? Hm?” He let up on the raspberries just to reach under him and pull Tim’s arm out straight so his forearm and hand stuck out past Dick’s shoulder. He leaned back down using his weight to keep Tim’s arm in place.
“DICK WAIT! NONONONO PLEASENOTTHERE!” Came Tim’s giddy shout. If he heard any real requests to stop from his little brother, he’d be up in an instant, but years of being the eldest sibling, Dick knew a token protest from a real one.
“Sorry Tim, but I don’t think I can skip it now… you just have me sooo curious,” he used his left hand to cross over and grab Tim’s right wrist. He lifted up just enough that he could reach under himself and jab his fingers wildly into the younger boy’s now exposed armpit.
Tim’s efforts to pull his arm down to were noticeably weak, but not non existent. Dick was reminded that the 15 year old was growing stronger everyday.
Though his reactions certainly didn’t spell out ‘growing out of it’ any time soon, Dick still felt like he should savior these moments.
Tim was in tithers. He’d been prepared for a reaction, albeit a sleep induced one, but this, this was not what he’d been expecting when he decided to tickle his brother.
Smushed between a fairly heavy body, and the couch cushions, he couldn’t have much of a reaction, all he could do was laugh, yell and curse. He was also doing plenty of elbowing and kicking, but he was essentially a bug under a shoe right now, his trapped limbs had such a small area to gain momentum he was doing little damage more than maybe a bruise or two from repetitive hits.
The thing was, knowing he was safe, Tim didn’t really mind. He was overly tired from staying up all week for a case, big surprise. He was pretty sure Dick knew this is exactly what he needed.
However, he couldn’t help but feel slighted after not being able to pull off his initial attack. And Tim was nothing if not a schemer, so against all better judgement, he used his free hand and all his concentration to squeeze at Dick’s hip bone with impressive force.
Dick did let out a pretty startled genuine laugh, so Tim counted it a win and already noted the action worth it. His arm coming down and blocking Tim, wasn’t a surprise.
His brother lifted up, and Tim really took in deep breathes now.
As Dick sat up and narrowed his eyes at the back of Tim’s head he spoke, “You just had to get your poke in, didn’t you?”
“Well its hardly fair-“
“There is no ‘fair’, Tim.” Dick’s tone had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “I’m the big brother; I’ve been kind enough to let you have your fun. And this is how you repay me?” No one ever accused Dick Grayson of being under theatrical.
Tim’s answer was cut off with his own ear piercing scream when Dick grabbed a hold of both of his hips, only squeezing one side.
Tim instantly tried to roll onto that side, giggling and becoming more laugh drunk with every pulse.
As soon as he made any headway in rolling over and blocking the hand, Dick started squeezing the other side.
A jolt of electricity ran through Tim’s spine as he tried to over correct and spin the other way.
“Evil!” He laughed out. “You’re eheh-evil!”
Dick kept up this technique for a few minutes. Switching sides every time Tim managed to start blocking his fingers, evil as he may be,Dick didn’t mention that Tim kept his arms straight down to his sides, never once bothering to grab Dick’s wrists or trying to pull himself out from under his brother.
“Alright, all this work has made me tired,” was all the warning Tim got before the air was knocked out of him again, as Dick crashed back down.
“As tired as I am though,” Dick mused. “I’m pretty hungry too, those raspberries were pretty tasty earlier, think you might have a few more?”
“Fresh out!”
“Hmm, I think I see one right here,” Dick turned ever so slightly to press his lips against Tim’s neck again.
He didn’t bother protesting this time, just squirming in place and letting out a gleeful shriek every time new contact was made.
“Crushing the shrimp?” Dick heard a very unmuffled voice, causing him to lift his head up.
“Hey, Jay,” he grinned. “Yeah, am I doing this right?” He gestured to Tim below him with a grin.
Their little brother took the opportunity to try to squirm free once again. “get him off of me!” Came Tim’s perfunctory whine.
Jason ignored his pleas and looked to Dick instead. “No, you suck at this— let me help.” It was all sincerity in his expression when he reached down the grab Tim’s ankle. Tim who immediately started protesting. “He’s not nearly loud enough,” he started scribbling along the bottom of Tim’s socked foot at the same time Dick leaned back down for round two of raspberries.
Pressed under Dick’s weight, his legs had no where to hide, Tim was resigned to squirming in place and making his irritation known through unintelligible screams.
“naAHA-leheTGOHOHOJAHAY!” Was all his brothers’ could make out from the long string of syllables.
Jason gave a snort of amusement before dropping the ankle back down to the couch. Tim’s legs bent at the knee and curled in as far as they could to hide them.
“Have your fun, I’m just glad to see you evening the scales with the little brat.” Jason commented while Dick kept dutifully blowing raspberries across Tim’s neck and shoulders wherever he could.
Dick stopped his attack to laugh at Jay’s comment, lifting up on his elbows. meaning Tim had a moment of reprieve.
“Even?!” He chose to yell through heavy breathes instead of catching up on his oxygen intake. “We’re not even approaching the realm of even!”
“I don’t mean you and Dickface. I mean you and me. It’s not fair, you can’t have little shit privileges if I can’t.” Jason shrugged unapologetically.
Dick was still laughing, mostly because Tim went utterly silent and Dick could tell he was piecing the last few weeks together.
Finally, an outrageously shrill voice came out from under Dick. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT?!” Tim was suddenly fighting harder to get free, probably to try and tackle Jason. (Or thank him, if Tim were being honest.)
“It sure is,” Dick nodded sitting up on his knees again, he didn’t let his prey go yet. He just wanted to give him a better view of the traitor in his midst. “Jay felt the need to point out what he thought was unfair and asked if I could correct it. Since he was feeling left out,” Dick winked at Tim.
“I was feeling like the brat needed a humbling.” Jason rolled his eyes. “He’s not a baby anymore—“
“Can I get that in writing?” Tim interjected.
“Well— you are still a big dumb baby.” Jason gave a thoughtful correction and Tim stuck his tongue out at him. “But you don’t get baby sibling privileges past the age of 14. Especially when I didn’t get them at all.”
“You did too!” It was Dick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Besides, pretty sure whatever I didn’t let you get away with, Bruce did.”
Jason didn’t seem to argue with that. “Fair enough.” He shrugged instead. “Don’t you think the kids had long enough of a breather?”
“Huh? Oh yeah,” Tim barely registered the words before Dick was clawing into his stomach with one hand, and using the other to ruffle his already tangled hair. “Almost forgot about you, birdy, you’re so quiet when you’re not giggling.”
“Okahay!” Tim squirmed and laughed beneath him. “Okayokayokay!” He tapped against his brother’s knee.
“Had enough?” Dick smiled, resting his hand on Tim’s stomach rather than wriggling it all around.
Giggles were still slipping out left and right as he mentally came down, but Tim knew his brother would respect the tap, so he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on catching his breath.
Jason hadn’t left yet, still meandering the room, so Dick took his opportunity.
“Alright, sibling hierarchy back in balance! Someone find Cass! Mandatory movie night!”
“Mandatory?” Jason raised an eyebrow.
“Well I’ve already got one tuckered out baby bird here, what’s a couple more?”
Jason’s weight shifted from foot to foot and he glanced between his two brothers before sighing. “Fine. But we’re not watching another Barbie movie.” He headed out the door.
“Princess and the pauper?” Dick asked Tim the second he was gone.
Tim sleepily nodded yes and grinned. “He’s gonna yell at you,” he mused while Dick started shuffling around. Tim made no protests as he was scooted and moved.
“He’s always yelling at me. And anyways, Cass will back me up.” He shrugged settling in the couch himself, he then pulled Tim upright and into his side, dropping an arm around him.
Sleepily, Tim blurted out a thought that was itching at him. “Do you want me to stop? Tickling you?“
“No,” Dick shook his head. “I don’t mind, do you mind me tickling you back?“
Mimicking Dick’s answer, he shyly shook his head into his brother’s side. “No,” he mumbled.
“Good, now go to bed before Jason comes back and picks a fight so I can tell him you’re sleeping on me and he can’t disturb you.” He ran a hand through Tim’s hair to help the process along.
“Hmm?” Tim mumbled.
“Perfect.” The rumble of Dick’s light laughter in his chest was the last thing he could fully make out.
After a few minutes Jason comes in with Cass attached to his back, and an arm full of snacks.
“What the hell?” He grumbles as his sister slides down to the ground. “I said no Barbie—“
“Shhh! Tim’s sleeping.” Dick said with all the energy of a mother bear.
Jason, whose complaint was with how often he’d seen the movie, not its content, was about to wind up to start arguing further but Cass furrowed her brow at him and set her jaw.
Jason’s words died in his throat and he deflated under his sister’s glare. “Fine. We’ll watch ‘em switch places for the millionth time.” He fell into the couch next to Cass and let Dick press play without further complaint, resigning himself to slipping out of the room when no one was paying attention.
If Alfred found all four of them passed out on the couch with the credits rolling, that was Alfred’s business.
Just had a 10 minute spiral because I thought I deleted the fic I was working on 😭😭 but I found it in a completely different doc? That I haven’t opened in weeks?
Guys I’m actually kinda giddy about the Fortnite Batman stuff … can’t help but imagine the kids teasing Bruce RELENTLESSLY about it 😭 shirtless ‘Beach Bod Batman’ would go down in infamy in Wayne Manor
A/N: 2.7Kish words. This was a request from this anon, and I greatly enjoyed writing it! I hope you like it, even if Bruce has yet to face any retribution; don't worry, it's coming ;)
Summary: On a rare off day matched with Bruce's own, Dick receives a FaceTime from his little brothers, demanding asking him to get back at Bruce for them. Well, it's always nice to have an excuse to visit family
It wasn't often that Dick or Bruce could take time off from their night jobs, and even rarer still was when they'd have a night off at the same time. This was one of those nights.
From Jason and Tim’s FaceTime, Dick had gathered that they'd had a lazy day at the manor; no work, school or patrol later on meant pyjamas and movies. Dick couldn't help the little spark of envy in his gut, but he shoved it down to focus on his little brothers’ smiles.
“And then-” Tim started, cutting Jason off in the middle of talking about making lunch with Alfred- “after that I heard Jay making weird noises and when I found him, B was tickling him!”
“Shut up!” Jason shouted and elbowed Tim in the side. Dick’s view of the events was skewed by their IPad falling and facing the ceiling, but he absolutely heard Tim’s screeches.
“Be nice, Jay,” Dick scolded, but there was no denying the sunny grin on his face as Tim’s helpless giggles and Jason’s triumphant teases rang through his phone. He'd needed this, after a long week of work and no time to chat. He'd missed his family.
Dick waited the laughing boys out, checking his messages for a while before hearing them call a truce. Dick couldn't help but laugh as two pink faces appeared on his screen, both with silly, playful smiles on their faces. “What were we talking about, Dickie?” Jason asked.
“Hmm, I think we were talking about Tim finding B tickling you silly,” Dick said, a teasing lilt to his voice. Jason scowled and said, “hey! He got Timbit here too!” Dick smiled at the mental image of a gooey, happy Bruce tiring his youngest sons out with tickles. The growing spark of envy was buried deeper down.
“Wait, I know,” Tim said, smacking Jason’s shoulder repeatedly in his excitement. Jason shot him a look but didn't stop him. “Dickie can help us get revenge! If anyone can take B down it's him!”
Yeah, no. Dick had to cut that line of thought off before Jason agreed. “Sorry kiddos, you're on your own with that one.” Tim pouted at that, thankfully letting it go, but Jason narrowed his eyes and Dick knew he was fucked.
“Why? Are you scared? Too scared of Bruce to help your poor little brothers?” Jason goaded and it was so obvious what he was doing. There was no way in hell Dick would fall for it, except Tim was still pouting and Jason had that challenging smirk on his face and– Dick was a weak, weak man who loved his brothers very much, okay?
“Oh, you're on, Jase. Not only am I gonna take Bruce down, but once I'm done I'm gonna tickle the snot out of you two little brats as well.” Dick hung up before either of them could reply, knowing he had to hurry before word about his little plan got back to Bruce. The drive to the manor would be a long one.
The manor was eerily quiet at Dick’s arrival. It definitely didn't help that only Alfred and Ace came to greet him, no patter of little brothers running on wooden floorboards, or warning grunts from his exhausted dad, just Alfred’s warm smile and Ace’s slobbery kisses. It was still a very nice welcome.
“Jaaayyyy, Tiiimmyyyyy, where aaaaare youuuuu?” Dick called out, grinning in spite of himself. It was ridiculous how excited he was to see them, but it had been a rough week, okay? He wanted to see his baby brothers’ happy little faces in person. “I just wanna taaaaaaalkk.”
When Dick was met with a wall of muscles and robe, he knew he was done for. “Hi, chum,” Bruce greeted smoothly, smiling down at Dick. Dick despised how easy it was for Bruce to make him feel like a little kid again. “I understand you're here to defend the boys’ honour.”
Oh, those little shits. Dick was gonna make them regret the day they were born.
“And who told you that?” Bullshitting his way out of stuff had always been Dick’s greatest defence. If he was gonna have any chance against Bruce, he needed to catch him off guard; the two little terrors he considered his brothers had seemingly made that much harder than Dick had been expecting.
“Just two very hyper little birdies. Now-” before Dick had a chance to digest that, he was unceremoniously hoisted over Bruce's shoulder like he weighed no more than a bag of flour. Dick let out a noise of indignation that was absolutely not a squeak, thank you very much, annoyance only growing when Jason and Tim appeared out of nowhere to follow Bruce up to his room.
“Oh, now you two traitors show up. I thought it was you guys who wanted me to get back at B!”
“Well sure, but then you threatened us. Not very nice of you Dickie,” Jason said, while Tim solemnly shook his head in agreement. The two were never as insufferable as when they were on the same side. “We had to tip Bruce off so that he'd protect us, right B?”
Bruce grunted at that and Jason and Tim just smiled, clearly thinking it was a grunt of agreement. Dick, though, had had a lot more years of practice translating each of Bruce's noises, meaning he knew that grunt was actually amusement. Specifically, it was the kind of amusement that spelt trouble for thing one and thing two over there. Good.
Dick’s sense of justice was cut short, however, when Bruce threw him onto the bed, quickly following to sit on Dick’s thighs and secure his arms. Well, shit. If Dick were a religious man, this would be about the time to start praying.
The bed dipped at either side of Dick, and he was met with his little brothers’ sunny smiles. It was unfair how much they tugged at his heart strings, they'd thrown him to the wolves–or, well, wolf–and still he couldn't help but smile sappily back at them. “Hi Dickie," Tim chirped and Dick barked out a laugh, pretty much resigned to his fate at this point.
“Hiya, little menace. So, did Jay put you up to this?” that had Jason gasping in offence, but it was Tim’s wicked little grin that had Dick whipping his head between them in shock. “What? No. C’mon, not my teeny tiny lil guy,” Dick pouted, enjoying the flush Tim’s cheeks took on in response. That would have to settle for Tim’s karma, at least for now.
“If it helps,” Bruce said, forcing Dick to fully acknowledge his current predicament, with his dad pinning him down and a brother on either side. “They both delivered the news to me. They said you'd decided to come over to try and tickle me, is that correct?”
Dick went to protest, to correct the mostly untrue version of events Bruce had been fed, when the feeling of little hands scratching at his right set of ribs had him firmly sealing his lips. “No rebuttal? He's clearly guilty, B,” the little cretin attached to those hands said, laughing in delight when Dick glared at him. Jason always had been one to act first, consider the consequences later.
“Hmm, I suppose this could be a fitting punishment for such a crime,” Bruce grinned, nodding for Tim to join Jason. Unfortunately, he didn't go for Dick’s other set of ribs like Dick had prepared for, but instead shot one hand directly into Dick’s armpit.
Dick squarked, quickly succumbing to startled laughter. He turned his head just to see Tim’s self-satisfied grin, and again he was torn. While a huge part of Dick was feeling extremely betrayed by his brothers and was very excited to enact his deserved revenge, another part of him couldn't help but be proud of the little trouble makers. Truly, he was going so soft in his old age. He was really starting to understand Bruce now, and wasn't that a terrifying thought.
Speaking of Bruce, Dick looked up at him, just to see the man smiling lovingly down at him, hands still keeping Dick’s arms firmly pinned so he couldn't even attempt to fight back. Dick felt his cheeks heat up at such open affection radiating from the older man, tossing his head to the side to press against the pillows. It was then that Jason decided to follow Tim’s lead, darting one hand up from his ribs to his armpit, while the other kept on scribbling at his ribs.
“JAHAHASE,” Dick barked out between gasping laughter, which only grew in both volume and pitch when Tim finally put his spare hand to use on Dick’s other ribs, squeezing them gently. It was an absolutely evil counterpoint to Jason’s light scribbles, and Dick hated how quickly he was already losing his cool. “TIHIM, NOHOHO!” He tugged desperately against Bruce’s grip on his arms, but it was pointless.
“Tim yes,” Jason cheered, grinning cheekily at his little brother. Tim smiled back at him over Dick’s unfortunately pinned figure, and the sight of them having so much fun together was almost worth this torture. Almost.
“BRAHAHATS!”
“Alright, boys, let him breathe,” Bruce finally piped up, and Dick startled at both of his brothers’ dismayed little frowns, but the two did stop tickling him and moved back to give him some air.
“I– I aham so getting you two bahack after thihis,” Dick huffed out, jolting with a shocked squeak when Jason squeezed his thigh.
“Nuh-uh, B will protect us,” Jason said, all cocky, toothy grinned. “Right, B?” Bruce responded with very pointed silence, making Jason audibly gulp. Dick couldn't help but chuckle.
“Huh, I think he's ready to laugh again, B,” Tim piped up, because clearly Dick was no more than chopped liver to him at this point.
“Alright, boys, grab his arms for me,” Bruce grinned, grinned, and Dick blushed at the excited little butterflies that elicited in his stomach. While Jason and Tim didn't seem to notice, too busy securing Dick’s arms to the bed, Bruce definitely did if his knowing chuckle was anything to go by. Dick felt the red spread to his neck.
Bruce took his time cracking his knuckles over Dick’s chest, following it up by cracking his neck to either side. He was clearly enjoying the way Dick squirmed in response, if him drawing the motions out was any indication. “Alright, let your old man show you how it’s done.”
Dick squeezed his eyes firmly shut, bracing himself for ruthless tickles to his knees or sides. Instead, he felt… Nothing. Dick slowly opened his eyes in confusion, brimming with nervous energy, to be met with the sight of Bruce clawing both hands just above Dick’s sides.
“Nononononono,” Dick rushed out, tugging against his brothers’ grips to no avail. “No- noho not that! Beehehe please!”
“Woah, I didn't know Dick could turn that red,” Tim said, voice so incredibly earnest that Dick couldn't even be mad. He just flushed worse at the unintentional tease, tugging at his arms again.
“Mm yes, your brother is particularly weak to the anticipation of this,” Bruce explained, his voice soft and patient as if he was explaining a new kind of grapple, not teasing Dick within an inch of his life in front of his baby brothers. “Especially when you do this,” Bruce started wiggling his fingers, slowly lowering his hands to Dick’s sides.
“NononoNONO PLEASE,” Dick begged, tossing, turning and tugging against the weights holding him down. Alas, his efforts were still futile. Dick let out a definitely very manly squeal as Bruce quickly darted his hands down as close to Dick’s sides as possible without actually touching him, before the hands were quickly brought back to where they were slowly lowering down from before.
“Woah,” Jason breathed out, awe practically dripping from his voice. Bruce’s chuckle in response did not help how ridiculous and, admittedly, eager Dick was feeling.
“Just you wait, Jay, I'm gonna do this above your hips until you're begging for– NOOOOO!” Dick’s taunt was cut off by his own shout of protest when Bruce’s evil, clawed hands finally made contact with Dick’s sides. Bruce kept the shape to claw sporadically at Dick’s sides, while his fingers continued to wiggle tauntingly. It was horribly effective and incredibly evil. It was the most fun Dick had had in a while.
“NAHAHAHA, BRUHUHUHUCE,” Dick cackled, legs jackhammering uselessly against the sheets as he attempted to buck Bruce off and tug his arms in to protect his sides–he was successful at neither.
“I didn't realise he was so ticklish,” Tim giggled, the little shit, and Bruce just hummed in response.
“Or that he was such a kicker,” Jason added. “Fuck, Dickie, calm down before you put someone's eye out.”
“SWEHEAR JARHAHAHAR,” Dick laughed out, refusing to dignify the rest of that with a response. He let himself feel a little vindicated when Jason’s protest was quickly cut off by Bruce’s agreement.
That vindication was, just like his earlier justice, short-lived, since Bruce decided that that was a good time to switch to squeezing Dick’s sides in frantic little bursts.
“Hehehehey," Dick laughed out, squirming calming down a little while his legs kicked out a bit more forcefully.
“Hi, lad,” Bruce replied, smile soft and fond and making Dick feel loved and a bit light-headed. He hated to admit it, he really truly did, but he'd missed his dad’s loving attention more than he'd realised.
“Hi,” Tim grinned, adjusting how he was sitting to get more comfortable. Jason stayed quiet, but the smirk on his face said enough. Yeah, Dick would never hear the end of this. It was almost unfathomable how little he cared about that right now, though.
“Ready for one last punishment for your crimes, sweetheart?” Bruce asked, one hand leaving Dick’s side to give him enough air to string a sentence together; y’know, in theory at least.
“I dihihidn’t doho anything,” Dick giggled weakly, a little huff of indignation making its way out of his mouth. “It wahas their ideahahaha.”
Dick watched as Bruce studied Jason and Tim’s mock innocent faces, clearly amused by their adorable, if pitiful, attempts. “I'm afraid I find you guilty, Richard Grayson,” Bruce ruled, raising his voice to be heard over Tim and Jason’s victorious cheers as well as Dick’s giggly rebuttals. “I sentence you to death by raspberries.”
Between one blink and the next, Bruce had knelt down to rub his stubbled face against Dick’s bare neck, blowing raspberry after raspberry in the same spot there. It wasn't Dick’s worst spot by any means, but the unrelenting attacks coupled with how he was still trapped under his family heightened the sensation near unbearably.
“EEEEEEEK,” Dick screeched, peel after peel of childish laughter being pulled from him. “I'M SOHOHORRY.”
Bruce was clearly unmoved by Dick’s apologies, continuing to blow raspberries against his neck until Dick was out of words, unable to do anything other than go limp against the bed and laugh his head off. Bruce quickly backed off after that, Tim and Jason seemingly following suit as Dick regained control of his arms. Dick then used this newfound freedom to swiftly tug his little brothers against either side of him, happy to finally get his baby brother cuddles.
He heard Bruce chuckle from above before a big, warm hand settled in his hair, brushing through it slowly. “It was their idea, B,” Dick hummed when he'd calmed down a bit more.
Tim and Jason started to disagree, but Bruce quickly cut them off, saying, “I thought as much. Don't worry, they'll get their punishments for planning the failed ambush.”
Dick smiled at his brothers’ high pitched refutes, Tim begging for mercy while Jason argued that he'd done nothing wrong. Dick tugged them impossibly closer, smiling into one of their heads of hair (he thinks it was Tim’s, but he couldn't be certain). “Later. Hugs now,” Dick demanded.
Bruce chuckled, moving to sit beside his sons with his tablet magically precured. He used one hand to scroll through what looked to be the news, while the other returned to Dick’s hair, making him hum happily.
Dick would get his revenge on his brothers eventually, whether Bruce also got them or not (although it sounded like he absolutely would). He'd also get Bruce eventually too, in part because his brothers wanted him too, but now mostly because he wanted his own vengeance. For now, though, he sighed contentedly and sunk further into Bruce’s silk sheets, a sweet, evil little brother held in either arm. The perfect end to a shitty week.
Summary: An offhand comment between siblings opens up a can of worms for one eldest brother in particular
Notes: zero editing… I don’t have it in me to read through again lol. It’s short and sweet so hopefully not too many errors! Jayroy if you’re paying attention but it’s not a main theme. about 2.9k
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Post lazars pit, Jason was stronger than Dick. Dick knew, truly he did, somewhere deep down below his ego, and eldest sibling bravado, but like most things in his life, he had to learn the hard way.
Sitting in an old, threadbare chair in one of his safe houses after a hot shower and a few cold beers, Dick couldn’t help but poke the bear.
“Jaybird used to follow me around everywhere,” Dick grinned. “Like my little shadow, always wanting to hangout with me and my friends— and now look! You’ve completely stolen one of them!” He draped his back dramatically against the chair.
“I didn’t steal shit— it’s not my fault Roy decided to trade in his bat for a better model.” Jason huffed out, his arm landing somewhat possessively across Roy’s shoulders. The red head seemed to be content to let them bicker, not adding any fuel to the fire for now.
“Better model?” Dick’s furrowed brows helped to convey his outrage. “What exactly are you better at than me?”
“Let’s see,” Jason sat back and pulled up both hands to start counting. “I’m better looking, smarter, stronger—“
“You’re not stronger than me.” Dick immediately cut him off.
He’d struck a chord.
The room went quiet for a moment, Tim holding back a grin, Roy with pursed lips letting out a snicker and leaning back, preparing for the show.
Jason managed to look utterly relaxed while he sized his brother up. Dick felt every ounce of the judgement Jason was pushing into his raised eyebrow and tilted jaw.
“I’m going to give you one opportunity to take it back.” Jason finally spoke.
Roy’s quiet “here we go,” was quickly drowned out by Tim smacking him in the shoulder and shushing him, clearly eager to see this play out.
How could Dick concede? In front of two little brothers and a long time friend? His ego swelled even as he took in the size of his brother’s arm muscles.
“Size doesn’t equal strength, little wing.” Dick rolled his eyes, pretending like he really believed it. If he made himself seem sure enough, maybe they wouldn’t make him—
“Prove it.” Tim’s giddy voice ignited the conversation further.
“Walked right into that one, Rob.” Roy made it clear he would be part of the peanut gallery for this one.
“How can we prove it? It’s not like-“
“I have an idea.” Jay smiled.
“Of course you do,” Dick rolled his eyes. “What, do you wanna punch each other until only one of us is standing?” The causal scoff he let out was betrayed by the nervous swallow that followed.
It was Jason’s turn to roll his eyes, “no, idiot. I’m not sure about you, but I’d rather keep my teeth.” Dick shrugged at that. “I think you should let me lock you up in one of your octopus holds and if you can break it, you win.”
Dick scowled at him.
Jason had learned two weeks ago that Dick’s ‘unbreakable’ hold was actually only as strong as he was. It made total sense when Jason thought about it, but it had been engrained in him long ago that if Dick got his arms around you, you’re stuck.
That theory remained until Dick tested his luck recently, surprising Jason from behind and locking his arms all the way around Jason’s middle in a bear hug before tickling at his stomach.
From the shock of it, Jason reacted like it was a threat and he immediately clamped down to remove the hands.
Luckily Dick’s yelp registered in his ear before he could snap the bone.
They both stepped back and stared at each other in shock.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
Dick wasn’t supposed to lose his grip. Ever.
They didn’t have a moment to discuss because Dick did eventually recover from the shock and wrestled Jason to the ground before tickling the shit out of him.
He would probably always have Jason beat when it came to sparring, but strength alone?
Bitterly, Dick knew that moment had in a round about way led to this one. Jason had been smug since the incident but hadn’t outwardly brought it up.
Until now.
“Since I can break your hold.” Jason went on when Dick didn’t answer. “You should be able to break mine, if you’re stronger than me.” It was 21 year old Jason’s body in front of him, but his face was all 12 year, old self satisfied Jason.
“That’s stupid,” Dick rejected the idea immediately.
“Actually,” Roy gave a frown like he was weighing the merits of Jason’s test. “I think that sounds fair? What do you think, short-stack, you’re the genius here?” Roy nudged Tim with his foot.
Tim looked like the wind had just been knocked from his sails as ‘short-stack’ hit his ears, he glared at Roy before relenting. “I think it’s very fair. And extremely scientific. You’re brilliant, Jay,” he mused, clearly egging on the fight that this would inevitably dissolve into.
“Shut up, Tim.” Dick threw him a look that Tim knew was more pleading than anything.
“Come on, Goldie. What’dya say? You wanna settle this? If you’re so confident, what do you have to lose?” Jason grinned already changing his posture. He was radiating smug energy.
Dick looked from him, up to the ceiling in some kind of prayer.
“Fine.” Dick regretted it the moment Jason’s face turned to something just a little too excited. He was not going to make this easy on his older brother, that was for sure.
Dick groaned. “Ugh, Jay, we don’t even have room, or a pad to spar on—“
“We’re not sparring.” Jason rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers at Tim, gesturing to help him move the coffee table. He hopped up to do so. “You just have to break a hold. Is the rug not good enough for you, princess?” He continued, “I could put a blanky down—oof,” He grunted when Dick stood up and shoved a pillow straight into his gut.
“Let’s just get on with it,” Dick gestured to the rug.
“Alright fine, I’m gonna let that go because I’m already about to embarrass you in front of your little protege and Roy,” Jason shrugged throwing the pillow onto the couch.
“We’ll see about that.”
“I think Timbo and I should make up some ground rules,” Roy spoke up. “You two will argue over the winner based on whatever-bullshit.”
Roy was correct.
It was determined that 1) Jason was to pick the hold. 2) Dick was not allowed to pull any ‘bendy shit’ to break the hold. He had to do it by strength alone. 3) the loser is to verbally conceded.
Begrudgingly, Dick got down on the floor, knees pressed into the ground and let Jason do the same, before he wrapped his arms around Dick’s neck and chest.
5 minutes of barely shuffling, huffs of annoyance and strained pulls later, Dick was ready for this particular humiliation ritual to end.
“Fuck— okay! This isn’t a fair test!” Dick sputtered, finding himself losing air. Jason was playing to win, every time Dick spoke he tightened his grip. “You god d-damn boa constrictor! Get off!” Dick went for his Hail Mary, older sibling instinct taking over before he could think the move through, his right hand had a bit of wiggle room and sloppily scribbled over Jason’s hip. Barely enough movement to earn a chuckle.
The low rumble of Jason’s laughter rang in his ears before he realized it wasn’t from the tickling.
“You really, really shouldn’t have done that.” Jason repositioned them just slightly, his grip around his brother was still as tight as ever, but Jason could work his hands into Dick’s sides, right at the start of his rib cage, around the back.
“fUCk,” Dick squeaked out before trying to seal his lips. He bit his lip trying to conceal his alarm.
“What was that, Dickface? Ready to tap out and admit defeat?” Jason continued wiggling his fingers into Dick’s ribs, an easy teasing tone finding its way into his inflection.
“Noho way, Little Wing!” Came Dick’s muffled reply. He pulled his head back just to clearly speak, “you’re cheating!” Before smooshing his face into Jason’s shoulder to hide an obnoxiously loud laugh when Jay managed to work his hands higher, teasing new, sensitive skin as Dick’s tshirt rode further up with every little movement.
“You literally started it! You just can’t finish it, maybe I should be calling you, Little Wing.” Jason grinned ear to ear as his brother sputtered out a protest.
“O-ovohover my dead body!” Dick’s eyes squeezed shut, trying to gain a modicum of grace or strength, neither found him.
But Jason, found a new spot. Dick’s hip’s weren’t nearly as sensitive as his own but the combination of being stuck stock still, and ghost tickles rolling in waves outside of where Jason was actually tickling, Dick was in hysterics.
“This isn’t fair!” He plead to the committee. “T-there are ruhules!”
“I gotta side with Jay here— you started it, Rob.”
“Yeah we said strength alone, and you went for the cheap shot, just like you always do.” Tim pointed out.
“Dohoho not!” A token protest.
“Do too,” Jason grinned, doubling down and wiggling his thumb back and forth over the too sensitive skin.
“JAHAHAY!” He screamed, going for scolding but coming out desperate. “You’re such a brat!” Dick whined, body starting to ache from their position.
“You should just admit it, man.” Roy helpfully reminds Dick of the audience to his predicament. “Save yourself the little bit of pride while you can here.”
“I dunno that there’s really that much left,” Tim muttered, mostly to his snickering seat mate.
“I’m n-not admitting shit!” Dick doubled (tripled? Quadrupled?) down only to find Jason was already searching for somewhere else to make him squirm. “And I heard that, Tim!”
“Come on, Dick. This is silly, Jason’s got like 40 pounds on you. At least. Not to mention the height—“
“He’s not that much taller!” Dick wished his voice hadn’t come out so shrill and irritated, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Are you joking? I can see every gray hair on the top of your ancient head when we’re standing?” The crime lord seemed to have a permanent grin at his brother’s expense.
Jason waited until Dick sucked in a breath to start berating him to dive his hands back into Dick’s sensitive sides.
“FUHUHUCK YOU JAY!” Dick screamed. “The only gr-ahaha-gray hairs I have are from yo-uhuhu!” He jerked his head up to try to knock Jason in the jaw.
“That’s bull! The brat’s are way worse than I was,” Jason actually seemed a little offended at the insinuation. Tim crinkled his nose in clear distain but kept quiet.
“But you were first!” Dick cried out. “You used-NONONOHOHO!” Jason apparently wasn’t in the mood to reminisce anymore and effectively cut Dick off by clawing his hand into the center of his stomach.
Jason let the hold go, pushing Dick’s shoulders until his back met the floor and he could throw a leg over his stomach.
“Let’s talk about what you used to do.” He quickly locked Dick’s wrists in an iron grip. His face contorted in such a specific way, Dick knew he was about to hear an impression of himself. “‘You’re so tiny and adorable, Jay, but you’re cuter when you’re cackling,’” his high pitched tenor was adding to Dick’s laughter.
“I do not sound like that!” He tried to bite at Jason’s hands holding his wrist down.
“Yes you do,” Tim grinned.
“You’re digging yourself a grave!” Dick glared at him, frustrated when his little brother didn’t seem intimidated.
“You absolutely sound like that. Roy?” Jason looked up for more backup.
Dick’s eyes darted to the red head.
“…I mean,” Roy shrugged, a teasing edge in his voice. “It’s not not accurate.”
“Fuck you both! Right after I kick, Jay’s ass— I’m coming after you two!” He would have gestured to Tim and Roy with his hands if he could have, but they all understood nonetheless.
“How exactly do you plan on doing that?” Jason mused. Dick’s right arm suddenly went over his head, his left immediately joining it. Jason leaned forward and used one hand plus a good amount of his weight to hold them in place.
Looking down and seeing his brothers face when he realized what was happening was something Jason would relish for a long time.
“Jason Peter—” Jason’s free hand spidering into Dick’s armpit effectively cut him off.
Biting his lip so hard Jason thought he might break the skin, Dick was fighting harder than he ever had to hold back the flood gates of laughter threatening to spill past his teeth. He knew there would be no coming back from this if Jason got him to break.
“Don’t hold back now, Dickie,” smug didn’t cover the look Jason was giving his brother. “You’re soooo much more adorable when you’re cackling.” Dick’s words were thrown back in his face as Jason’s thick fingers danced around the hollow.
The clumsy movement proved to be too much, Dick let out a noise like a leaking air pump before his mouth opened and a symphony of protests and shrieks filled the room.
“J—Jaybird! I can’t—AHAha! I can’t breathe!”
“Well, a few little magic words and this can all be over.” Jason suddenly switched to the other armpit with no warning, this time using his thumb to pulse all over.
Dick’s eyes squeezed shut while he tried to yank his arms out of his brother’s grip. Weakened from all the laughter, there was no chance in hell, all he accomplished was letting Jason know he was in a particularly good spot. “Come on, Dickface. Say it,” he goaded, thumb continuing to notch back and forth where it pressed into his sensitive skin.
Dick thought about taking in the look on Roy and Tim’s faces, using it to steel his resolve, but that plan quickly went out the window. He was loosing air by the second, his brain going a little fuzzy at the lack of oxygen.
“Okay!” His hand was tapping lightly against the ground. “Okahahay!” He yelled when Jason didn’t relent.
“There’s no tapping, dumbass. You have to admit it.”
“Ja-AHAY!” Dick sputtered, barely having the brain power to think. “I—I will! You have to stop first!” He practically begged.
Jason seemed to weigh the merits of his request before rolling his eyes and stopping the motion of his hand.
“Of course,” was Tim’s immediate answer, despite Dick’s irritated whine.
“Great, the floor is yours.” Jason gave Dick and encouraging poke to the belly button, his older brother turning his head into his bicep to cover a stifled giggle as well as his flush cheeks.
“Oh my god, you’re so—STAHAHAP!” Dick let out a screech when Jason’s hand moved over to grab at his highest ribs.
“I’m over the posturing, Dickhead. Admit it or die laughing.” Jason shrugged.
“Just spit it out already! Swallow your pride, dude!” Roy nudged Dick’s thigh with his toe. “He’s not going to let this go, you know that.”
“Ugh, fine!” Voice flooded with irritation, but softened by the giggles echoing in his throat. “You’re stronger than me, you asshole,” he grumbled out. “Now get off!”
Jason did as he asked this time, patting his chest as he fell sideways to sit on the ground.
Dick of course flinched at the touch, expecting another barrage clumsy fingers, only relaxing and melting into the floor when he realized it was meant to be a comforting gesture.
“Was that so hard?” Jason didn’t even attempt to hold back his arrogant grin, Dick had a feeling it would be a feature for the rest of the evening.
Dick flicked him in the leg and mumbled, “I wouldn’t call it the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” more posturing, Jason knew. “And you two are most definitely going down.”
“Good thing we have big, strong, Jason to protect us.” Roy teased.
“Maybe you,” Jay shrugged. “Shrimp’s on his own.”
“What?!” Tim kicked at Jason’s leg. “Jay, that’s so not fair. I’m your brother?”
“So’s he.” Jason reaching over to squeeze Dick’s knee.
The oldest let out a yelp before he punched Jason in the leg. “Stop it!” A whine left his mouth before he deflated once again back into the floor. “You’re just digging yourself a deeper hole, Little Wing.” Dick tossed at him half heartedly, while Jason got to his feet.
“Good thing I’m strong enough to pull myself out,” and because he was on cloud nine and feeling playful, Jason stuck his tongue out and made a face at his brother before falling into the couch next to Roy.
Taking in Jay’s genuine, ridiculously bright grin, Dick couldn’t help but feel his bruised ego was worth it. The goofier side of his stoic brother was not easy to bring out lately, and if Dick had to sacrifice his pride, he could do it.
First all, I really enjoy your work. I always enjoy coming back to re-read some of your fics.
Second of all, I've rarely asked in prompts, so apologies if I did anything wrong.
Prompt: Dick Grayson always gets a look on his face when in a mischievous mood that his siblings have learned to drop everything and escape. However, Tim, with his lack of self-preservation and addiction to coffee, has not learned his lesson.
Thank you so much!! And thank you for your patience, this has been sitting in my inbox for a year and a half 😭 I hope you enjoy this fic!!!
also folks, i barely edited this, i just skimmed through it last night in a haze when i was struggling to sleep, so pls bear that in mind if there are weird sentences or mistakes or typos dsjfhdf
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Situational Awareness
Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity)
Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here
Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Tim & Ler!Dick
Word Count: 3298 words
Summary: Tim's too busy working to place why Dick's behavior is sending his nerves haywire. Luckily, Dick doesn't leave him in suspense for too long.
[ao3 link]
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For all of Bruce’s promises to soundproof the bedrooms, Tim could certainly hear all the shouting and cackling going on downstairs at the moment. Granted, it was probably because he’d left his door ever-so-slightly cracked on accident on his last energy drink run and he hadn’t felt like pulling himself away from his laptop to fix that. Still, it was doing the tension headache he could feel coming on no favors. These Wayne Enterprises reports weren’t going to write themselves, though, so Tim just rubbed at his eyes and pushed through. He didn’t even bother turning around when his door opened fully, the sounds from below growing louder with it.
“Been at the Manor for hours and haven’t seen hide nor hair of my baby bird! What are you doing, all locked away up here?”
The unexpected voice nearly had Tim turning around, but if he let himself get interrupted now, he’d lose his flow and it would be impossible to force himself back on track.
“Working.”
Tim could practically hear the pout in Dick’s voice. “Working? When I’m in Gotham? Timmy, I’m hurt.”
Tim rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his energy drink – shit, almost empty. That was his last one, too. He might have to start in on the coffee, soon. Blegh.
“Didn’t know you’d be home this weekend.”
A body suddenly draped itself over the back of his chair, which was not helping with the ache in his shoulders and upper back, thank you very much. Tim grunted at the extra weight and allowed himself a brief glare at Dick, whose head was now resting on his shoulder.
“Do you mind?”
Dick hummed. “No, not at all. I mean, it’s not the most comfy, you are pretty bony, but I can make-do. I cuddle with Wally all the time, after all.”
Tim closed his eyes and counted out a few steady breaths. When he reopened them, he turned to face Dick again and found Dick already watching him. Thankfully, he’d backed away a bit, so they weren’t having to cross their eyes to see each other.
“Dick. I’m busy right now. We can catch up later, alright?”
Dick pouted, the manipulative jerk, and glanced towards Tim’s desk. He knew Dick was taking in the mess of paperwork and casework he’d snuck up from the Cave, the excess of drink cans that he’d yet to haul down to the recycling, the state of the current report he was working on, all in a few seconds.
“Looks like you’ve been working for a bit now…”
“It’s due soon.”
“How soon?” He should’ve known Dick would immediately latch onto the vague wording.
“Soon enough that you should leave me alone.”
Dick hummed again, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t take even just a little break?”
“I’ll break you,” Tim grumbled under his breath, but Dick was too close not to overhear.
“Timmy,” Dick sing-songed, drawing out his name.
For some reason, Tim’s skin started prickling, his heart thumping with a surge of adrenaline. Tim shrugged his shoulders, even with Dick’s weight pressed against them, trying to dispel some of the anxious energy. Maybe he had had too many energy drinks.
“What?”
“You have five seconds to save your document.”
Tim startled, glancing back toward Dick again. “I— wait, what?”
“Five… four… three…”
Tim swore under his breath and saved his spreadsheet, then the few other documents he had open too. Dick was kind enough to slow down his counting a comical amount for Tim to do so, even adding some fractions into the mix. When the last document was saved and Dick reached zero, he reached out and flipped the laptop shut. Tim pulled his fingers back with a yelp, barely clearing the edge of the device before it closed.
Tim managed to shake Dick off his shoulders for real after that, spinning his desk chair around to glare up at him. “Satisfied?”
Dick smiled, slow and innocent, but there was a dangerous curl to the edge of it. Tim was too preoccupied to bother wondering why it made him so twitchy, already mentally adding up further spreadsheet edits he needed to make in his head. He’d get to it as soon as he got Dick out of his room. Ugh, this is why he rarely stayed at the Manor anymore — at least at his Nest, he could lock obnoxious brothers out.
“Almost,” Dick said, drawing out the word again. “Just one more thing.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “And what’s that?”
Dick slunk closer, Tim’s hackles raising with every step. He loomed over Tim and said, “Baby brother giggles.”
Tim barely had time to spit out a curse, trying to throw himself out of his chair in time to make a break for it. He knew it was futile — Dick had well and truly cornered him before he even realized the danger of the situation — but no self-respecting Wayne went down without a fight. Still, it was far too easy for Dick to lurch towards him, sweep an arm around his waist, and just fully yeet him onto his bed. Dick quickly bounced onto the mattress after him.
“No no no,” Tim babbled as he tried to kick out at Dick to keep him away. “Come on! Why me? You have a perfectly good babiest brother downstairs!”
Dick laughed, fending off his feet. “Should’ve run when you had the chance, Timmy! I gave you plenty of warning.”
Dammit, and Tim’s body had already long figured it out, too. He was just too stupid to listen.
A hand locked in a vice grip around his ankle, and Tim yelped as he was dragged across the bed. Dick wasted no time pinching into his knees and thighs as they came into range, leaving Tim gasping and kicking and swallowing snickers. He thrust his free foot into Dick’s forearm until Dick hissed and was forced to let him go. He immediately rolled onto his stomach then, getting his hands and knees underneath him to crawl away, cursing the bunched-up squishyness of his unmade bedding as it tripped him up and hampered his progress.
And then a lanky mass of limbs and fluffy hair landed on Tim’s back, knocking him flat to the bed again with a startled “oof!” Dick chuckled behind him, deep and slow, and Tim’s heart set off like a jackrabbit. Goosebumps prickled along his skin as the baby hairs of his neck stood on-end.
“You really think I was gonna let you get away that easy, kiddo?”
Tim tried to toss Dick off, bucking and twisting to no avail. He huffed out a breath, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. “The hell have you been eating over in Blüd?”
“Timmy, Timmy, Timmy… I’d almost think you’re trying to make this worse for yourself.”
As if. Tim had been busy, thank you very much! He had the W.E. reports to finish, and after that he had several in-progress cases to be working on, and after that he had some online practice tests for the GED he was trying to get in secret, and—
He just had a lot to do, okay? And Dick interrupting him was not fitting smoothly into his projected schedule. So what if some older brother tickles might actually make his brain stop spinning for a few minutes? It’s not like he’d try to dig himself into a deeper hole just to ensure a moment of peace. Especially since he’d probably be too wiped-out to keep working after, and Dick would drag him downstairs for some dumb family time activity, and he’d probably force Tim into being his cuddle buddy for a movie night or something and lure Tim into actually sleeping when he needed to be working, and—
Look. Tim wasn’t that desperate or self-sabotaging, okay?
Shut up.
Tim scoffed, still squirming, but gasped and went still as Dick settled curled fingers against his ribs and sides. They twitched threateningly, and Tim twitched with them.
“Can’t we talk about this?” Tim asked, trying to keep the giddiness out of his tone. It just made his voice sound small.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dick said conversationally. “You go ahead and talk. I’ll just be here.”
Tim craned his head to shoot a wary look at Dick over his shoulder. Dick, lounging over his back like it was the most comfortable place in the world, blinked at him innocently. Tim narrowed his eyes but opened his mouth to speak, not even sure what he was about to say. Dick, both confirming his suspicions and saving him from having to come up with something, immediately vibrated his fingertips into the sides of Tim’s torso.
“N-no! Wait!” Thank god for Tim’s unmade mess of blankets, now. The way they puddled around provided him with a thick layer of fabric to bury his face in and muffle all the embarrassing noises he made as he tried to hold his laughter at bay.
“Wait? What do you mean? I’m not doing anything. I’m waiting on you, Timmy.”
Tim was so getting Dick back for this. If his brain hadn’t instantly scrambled under the ticklish assault, he’d already be planning his revenge. As it was, it was all Tim could do to shake with barely-contained laughter.
Dick’s vibrating fingers paused and slid lower down his sides, squeezing into the flesh and muscle and baby fat still clinging on there even though Tim was 18 now. The good news? Tim was way less ticklish down there. Now that half his ribcage wasn’t in Dick’s grip, it was way easier to breathe around his suppressed laughter. The bad news? Dick’s hands were ever-so-slowly crawling back upward, which Tim knew from experience promised a no-holds-barred attack on his ribs the moment Dick got there. Arms flailing backward, he managed to latch his hands around Dick’s wrists, hoping he still had the strength to push Dick away. He only realized his mistake when Dick cackled out a laugh, one that was eerily reminiscent of his Robin days, and shot his hands up into Tim’s now-exposed armpits.
Far too late, Tim clamped his arms down against his sides — or, at least, tried to. Being pinned facedown didn’t leave him much maneuverability, and he couldn’t get his arms properly tucked to his sides for the life of him. Not that it would’ve deterred Dick, anyway. Still, Tim would have preferred the flimsy semblance of protection against Dick’s jolting scratching. He wheezed into the blankets before finally cracking, stuttering laughter forcing its way past his lips.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” Dick said, infuriatingly conversational. “Come on bud, I’m all ears. What was it you wanted to say?”
Tim shook his head, trying his best to wriggle out from under Dick’s weight to no avail.
“No, no, don’t clam up now! I’m your big brother Tim, I’ll always want to hear what you have to say.”
Asshole, Tim thought. Then he hunched his shoulders with a squeak as Dick blew a cool stream of air over his nape and ears. It wasn’t as effective on him as it would be for, say, Damian, but it was still enough to send gooseflesh racing up along his neck and arms and make a giggle sneak through before he pitched back up into full laughter. Dick broke character for a moment to coo at him.
Tim managed to flip Dick off with one of his utterly useless hands, turning his head to the side to speak through his laughter, “You’re a j-jerk!”
Dick gasped, loud and melodramatic. Tim quickly reburied his face with a screech as Dick shifted his fingers slightly downwards, digging into his highest rib and the space between it and his underarm.
“Baby Bird, I can’t believe it! Here I am, holding space for you and your feelings, and you hurl such abuse at me?”
Tim, ever one to dig his own grave, replied simply with, “Deserved!”
He doubted it was intelligible through his laughter and blanket shield, but Dick seemed to understand him anyway. The only warning Tim got was a muttered, “Well if that’s how it is,” before one hand slid out from under his arm and vibrated ruthlessly into one of the kill-spots on the back of his bottom ribs.
With two of his absolute worst spots being targeted with the sort of ruthless efficiency only an eldest sibling can have, Tim could only let out a wordless laugh-scream as he tried to cope with the sensations. The following cackles were loud and frantic, pulled deep from his lungs, and Tim had to twist his face into the open to get the air to support them. He tried desperately to thrash, to do anything to dislodge those hands, but Dick had draped his torso near-parallel over Tim’s own, leaving him no leeway. Bucking up to try and throw Dick off only bounced the both of them on the mattress, making the tickles even worse by jostling Dick’s hands into his ribs. The most he could do was kick his feet frantically, drumming them against the bedding, as if that could somehow alleviate the incessant buzzy, tingling, ticklish feeling overtaking his entire body and mind.
He could tap out. Tim knew he could tap out, and Dick would respect it here just the same as on the sparring mats. Tim’s hands spasmed against the bedsheets once, twice, before his fingers tangled themselves into the fuzzy blankets and gripped tight.
“Dick!” Tim cried out. “Dick!!”
“Yeah, Timmy? I’m here, what’s up, bud?”
Tim wailed again as Dick managed to seamlessly swap which side got which treatment, renewing the sensations tenfold. “Ti— tic— it tick—“
“Sorry, could you speak up? I didn’t quite catch that.”
Tim let out a sound of frustration, tinged with too much giddiness and mirth to really be taken seriously, and thumped his feet against the mattress extra hard. Dick huffed out a fond laugh.
“Yeah, I bet it does tickle, huh, bud?”
Tim shrieked as Dick briefly clawed at both spots before switching back to the digging vibration of before. He tugged at the blankets fisted in his fingers, trying to bury himself.
“Ohhhh,” Dick said, drawing out the word in a dramatic moment of realization. “Is that what you wanted to talk about this whole time? How tickly-ticklish you are? Well, why didn’t you just say so!”
If Tim could’ve groaned through his guffaws, he would have. As it was, he barely had the wherewithal to flip Dick off a second time. Another foolish mistake on his part. Dick chuckled deep and low and evil right next to his ear. Too quickly for Tim to process, there was a rush of cold air against his back as Dick raised his body up and away from Tim’s. Then, the tickling hands were gone too. Tim had barely sucked in a full breath before his shirt was unceremoniously shoved up past his ribs and Dick was blowing a long raspberry right up against one of those bottom-rib kill-spots.
Another laugh-scream (or was it a scream-laugh? The screaming definitely felt like the main sound) escaped Tim as the ticklish vibration spread outward across all the nerves in his back. He felt like a live wire, twitching and frenzied. It didn’t help when Dick’s next breath was dedicated to a series of shorter raspberries up and down that same side, each one sending a shock through him. After everything Dick had already put him through, it took Tim an embarrassing amount of time for his brain to process his freedom of movement and load up his defense mechanisms. Long enough for Dick to get another scream-worthy raspberry against his lower ribs before Tim managed to roll onto that side to protect it.
Of course, that left one side not only completely defenseless, but practically handed to Dick on a silver platter. Dick, living up to his name, took full advantage of it, sending Tim crashing back onto his front as he jolted away from the evil, evil raspberries. They did that song and dance for a while, Dick teasing with his laughter and wordless coos while Tim flopped from side-to-side like a particularly stupid fish. It took another embarrassing several minutes (and several rounds of this particular torture) for Tim’s brain to load up some less stupid defense mechanisms and finally roll into his back. Take that Dick! Can’t torment the death spots on the backs of his ribs now. But instead of being put-out, Dick immediately seated himself over Tim’s thighs with a bright grin.
“There you are, bud!” Dick gave a few sporadic pokes around his stomach and sides. “Was wondering if I’d ever get to see that sweet smile of yours!”
Tim immediately started giggling, hiding his face behind one hand and slapping at Dick’s fingers with the other. “Dickie,” he whined.
Tim watched Dick cock his head through his fingers. “What? I thought your tummy looked lonely, don’t you think it could use some giggles too?”
Tim shook his head and watched Dick melt in real time.
“No? Are you sure?”
Well, if it would keep his brain quiet for a bit longer…
“Maybe just a little,” Tim mumbled.
Dick melted even more, if that was even possible. He wiggled his fingers into Tim’s stomach, digging into all the spots that made Tim feel giggly and fizzy with his own ticklishness. Tim removed the hand from his face, latching both hands onto Dick’s wrists. Not pushing Dick away, just holding on while he threw his head back with giggles and laughter. Eventually, Dick’s fingers tapered off. A set of dry lips pressed against Tim’s temple, and he peeled his teary eyes open to give Dick an embarrassed smile.
“All tickled out, Baby Bird?”
Tim was too exhausted to be defensive, giving Dick a nod. He beamed at Tim before rolling off of him, settling next to Tim in the bed and pulling Tim into his side. Tim snuggled in with a sigh.
“We were missing you downstairs,” Dick said after a moment, his voice soft and quiet. “You work too hard.”
Tim shrugged. “It has to get done.”
Dick hummed and rubbed his arm. “Shouldn’t be at your expense. Don’t turn into Bruce.”
“Or you?” Tim gave Dick a look out of the corner of his eye.
“Or me,” he grumbled. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
Tim snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
“Okay, brat. You coming down for movie night or what?”
Tim groaned and flopped more fully over Dick’s chest. “No,” he whined, drawing out the word. “Comfy. Naptime.”
Dick laughed. “Come on, bud. I didn’t turn you into a mushy little cuddle monster for nothing, I need my movie cuddle buddy.”
“Fine. But you’re carrying me.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
It took them a few minutes to get Tim settled onto Dick’s back, mostly because Tim decided to ragdoll and make Dick do all the work for his own amusement. They made their way down to the theater room where the rest of the family was already gathered, finishing up an argument on what they were going to watch that night. There was, of course, the teasing for the frantically ticklish sounds that had echoed down the stairs from Tim’s room, but it was almost worth it for the lingering drowsy, no-brain endorphins still running through his body. As it was, he just buried his blush in the crook of Dick’s neck, much to everyone’s clear amusement.
Still, Tim could live with it. Especially when he got to doze off to some detective film, warm and cozy and under the watchful eye of his family. He could afford to take a break, just for a little bit.
But next time, he would make sure Dick didn’t get the upper hand.
love, never apologize for not having the energy or motivation to finish a fic! writing can be a tiresome process and we all must understand! take your time and know we will be here to read your fic when you post it! ❤️
also, I love headcanons, even when they’re short 🤭
I know you said not to apologize but I am genuinely sorry this has taken me so long to answer. I’ve been pretty stressed lately and not in a great place and I always avoid my phone/ any messages that accrue when I’m in that space. It’s something I’m working on because it truly just gets worse the longer I let messages sit, the more guilt I feel for not answering them so I just Avoid. That being said…
Thank you anon 😭💖 you’re so sweet! I definitely have been lacking in the energy department lately (the Horrors persist), I’ve also been sucked into a new video game and that always pulls from other interests for a minute while I obsess over it
I honestly have sooo many WIP’s rn I keep thinking I’ll be close enough to finish one and get my hopes up, and then all my motivation goes to a NEW idea and so on and so on 😭
I don’t have a hc post yet but I’m very close to being done with several fics! (I think like 3?)
i would KILL for some lee!jason ler!dick where jason sees one of the other brothers getting tickled (ideally thatd be lee!tim and ler!dick but anythings fine) and is internally like hhhh god i wish that were me but ofc hes too stubborn to say anything about it. but dick notices and absolutely wrecks his shit <3 i hope thats not Too specific 😭
ANON BLESS YOUR PATIENCE (this prompt is from January 2025 ☠️) And also??? Not too specific at all!! Perfectly specific!!! I hope you enjoy this fic!!
Also, i did a single editing pass of this Weeks ago but its time to just Yeet it ive been hoarding it for too long, so hopefully its not too clunky/overly verbose/mistaken-ridden lol
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Niggling Nostalgia
Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity)
Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here
Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Jason & Ler!Dick (plus a couple brief instances of Lee!Tim)
Word Count: 7894 words
Summary: Jason is intimately familiar with jealousy, which is why he's certain this horrible, sticky feeling in his chest isn't anything of the sort. Still, he would appreciate it if Dick would leave him alone to bottle it up, instead of ripping it out of his ribcage. The brotherly attention he gets in return might make it a little worth it, though.
[ao3 link]
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Jason shouldn’t have even fucking been there. He should’ve been in one of his safehouses, shoveling shredded cheese into his mouth directly out of the bag after sewing himself up. He didn’t have any injuries that needed the Batcave’s extensive medical equipment, and he sure as hell didn’t need any monitoring.
Of course, no one had believed him when he said that. As per fucking usual.
Bruce had sent the little bird upstairs as soon as his uniform was off, and followed immediately once the Batsuit was off, neither of them showering downstairs or even sparing him a glance after transporting him from the Batmobile to the Medbay. Dickhead, down from Bludhaven for the weekend, took his sweet time, his shower singing echoing out from the locker room and into the Cave proper as Alfred sent him through completely unnecessary X-rays and stitched him up. Alfred was cleaning up by the time Dick practically skipped out of the locker room in an old sweatshirt from his single year at Gotham U and a pair of garish pajama pants.
“How we feeling, Little Wing?”
Jason swatted Dick away as he tried to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Like I’m ready to go fu— freaking home already.”
Alfred glanced over his shoulder with a Look. At first, Jason assumed it was from the near-swear, but then Alfred opened his mouth. “I’m afraid you won’t be leaving just yet, lad.”
“Wha—Alfred!”
“We’ll review your symptoms tomorrow, to ensure they haven’t become more severe.”
“So what if my helmet broke? It did its job! You can’t keep me here!”
Dick, having chosen to casually lean against the foot of his bed, snorted. There was no humor in the sound. “Jason, the thing practically shattered while it was still on your head. You have ten stitches on your forehead alone. I’m with Alfie on this one.”
“Thank you, Master Dick. Master Jason, you are quite lucky it is only the concussion and a few stitched wounds. Had your leg been broken as we had worried, you would not be leaving this Manor for the foreseeable future.”
And thank fucking god for that. Being forced to stay up in the Manor for weeks on end? Jason could handle a few hours here and there, finally relenting to invites for family dinners or Sunday brunches within the past few months, but if he was trapped there for days at a time, Jason was sure blood would spill. And certainly not his own.
Jason fumed, but decided it was wiser to stay silent now. A disappointed or testy Alfred could be soul-crushing, and he’d dealt with enough bullshit emotions for one night. Alfred nodded decidedly at his silence.
“Go get some rest, Master Dick. Master Jason, sleep well.”
Jason sighed, long and loud. “Yeah, you too, Alfie.”
Despite the warning tone in Alfred’s instructions, Dick didn’t follow him to the exit. Instead, he decided to push his luck again, approaching the head of the bed. Jason should’ve kicked him when he had the chance, but damn, despite not being broken, his leg sure was fucking sore.
“You doing okay?” He asked, his tone so gentle that Jason could physically feel his hackles raising. “Really?”
“Fucking fine, Dickhead. Get the fuck out of here and let me sleep.”
Dick huffed, an uncomfortable mix of amusement and bitterness that Jason refused to squirm at, and nodded. “Alright, Jay. I’ll let you rest.”
And then, because god forbid the asshole stop playing jovial big brother for even a second, Dick darted in close with a mischievous smile. Jason tried to fight him off, whatever his game was, but somehow Dick managed to dodge around his arms and into his personal bubble. Chapped lips connected with his hairline, carefully away from his stitches and bruising, startling Jason into stillness for a split second. By the time he went to fight again, Dick was already backing out of his space, jogging for the stairs.
“Sweet dreams, Little Wing!”
“Fuck you!”
Dick’s laughter echoed off the stone long after he was gone. Between that and the weirdly gooey feeling in his chest, it took a long time for Jason to finally sleep.
* * * * *
The next day was no better. Jason woke up feeling like death warmed over; his head pounding, his stitches itching, and every muscle in his body aching from the previous night’s abuse. Bitterly, he wished he could blame the medbay cot for some of it, but Bruce spared no expense on his setup, and the thing was unfortunately pretty comfortable.
Alfred, despite having checked his symptoms upon waking up and tending to his needs since then (god, had he missed Alfred’s cooking. A meal or two a month only satisfied his cravings so much), refused to release him until at least the late afternoon. After a series of complaints, Alfred told Jason he was lucky that he wasn’t being kept for a full 24 hours of observation, and that quickly shut him up.
Still, there was only so much he could do to entertain himself while stuck in the medbay. He did some stretches for his sore muscles, careful of the second set of stitches in his side lest he risk Alfred’s wrath. He snacked on whatever Alfred brought him, even after his hunger was satiated, just to beat back the boredom. He even asked Alfred to bring him down a few book options, and even though they were to his taste, he struggled to read around the headache squeezing at his skull.
Okay, fine. Maybe the concussion was a little beyond mild — but if Jason wasn’t throwing up and seeing stars, he didn’t care. He was fit for the field.
Eventually, Dick and the twerp made their way downstairs. Dick tried to check on him, dragging the mouthy little bird with him, but Jason was quick to chase them out. Just because he was stuck here did not mean he was going to play happy little family. Thankfully they got the message — though not without an eyeroll from Tim and a kicked-puppy pout from Dick — and headed off to the training mats. If Jason eventually wandered out to watch them train, it was just to stretch his legs. Alfred only said he had to stay at the Cave (or Manor, but Jason was still avoiding Bruce as much as possible), not in the medbay itself. He was bored and his legs were stiff – he absolutely was not looking to spend time with those chucklefucks that called themselves his brothers.
While neither of them were going easy on the other, it was clear to Jason that his spar was more play than work. Dancing around each other, hopping out of grasps, taunting and teasing (which, granted, was a trait embedded in any Robin, even in work mode, but still) – they were just toying with each other, winding each other up. And then Dick lunged, quick and graceful as a panther, a move more intent than any Jason had seen so far. Things were livening up. Jason stood a little straighter, ready to see where this would go.
And then Tim started screaming.
Jason started for the mats before he even processed what was happening, every nerve on high alert at the noise. He’d fought the kid on several occasions and never heard that sound. He’d rescued the brat from torture and never heard him scream like that before. What in the fuck had happened for Tim to throw all that stoicism out the window?
A shrill cackle stopped Jason in his tracks. Dick hadn’t even bothered to pin the kid, just wrapped his noodly limbs around him like an octopus as he dug his fingers into every inch of ticklish torso he could reach. Tim was spitting and cursing and writhing through his laughter, and though Jason saw at least three different ways he could escape Dick’s hold, Tim didn’t take any of them. Even being tomato red and wheezing, Jason didn’t think he’d ever seen Tim alight with so much joy. And, honestly? Despite how humiliating it no doubt was, Jason couldn’t exactly blame him.
A lifetime ago, Jason was the one writhing beneath those hands. He and Dick had a rocky start, and a rough relationship overall, but even Jason couldn’t keep lying to himself that things were all bad. They had their good moments; train-hopping, ice cream hangouts, a meager handful of patrols together.
And Dick absolutely taking Jason to pieces on those very training mats. Or in the theater room. Or the family room, one of their bedrooms, trapped in the car — really anywhere Dick thought he could get away with it.
Jason hadn’t reached for those memories since he’d gotten back. Everything from before often felt so bitter and tainted, bruised and aching, so he tended to leave well enough alone. He wasn’t that scrawny little kid anymore after all, beaming bright and spouting bullshit about how “Robin is magic!” He’d never be that kid again, so what was the point of dwelling on it? His so-called family already had that handled for him.
Even still, a feeling bubbled up in Jason’s chest. It wasn’t warm and melty, like whatever Dick had left him with last night. It was oozing and sticky and sharp, like an open wound congealed in blood. Jason huffed a sharp breath through his nose and turned tail, settling himself back in the medbay. He roughly snatched up one of the books, flipping it open and trying to focus on it around Tim’s howling. He spent most of the time staring blankly at the first page, fighting off the memories trying to creep up on him. He was so lost in his own head that he almost missed when the laughter finally stopped echoing off the Cave walls. He cursed under his breath, flipped about a quarter of the way through the book, and pretended to be lost in the novel.
“Good book, Little Wing?”
“Sure,” Jason grumbled, skimming the random page he opened. It seemed vaguely familiar — he must’ve read it when he was a kid.
“Dick and I were gonna raid the secret junk food stash,” Tim piped up. “If you wanna come.”
Alfred totally knew about that, nothing stayed secret from him. Still, it was remarkable that he’d let them pretend for this long. Jason remembered the days where he helped Dick, and even Bruce, stock the stash behind Alfred’s back. But as much as Jason could really go for some chalky Donettes or double-stuf Oreos, that nasty fucking feeling in his chest did not leave him much room for brotherly bonding.
“I’m good,” Jason said, tone snappy. “Alfred’ll be down soon to give me the all-clear. Knock yourselves out.”
“Jay, are you sure?”
“I said, I’m good.”
Dick raised his hands in surrender, backing out of the medbay with a bitter smile and dragging Tim with him. He heard them muttering to each other as they made for the stairs.
“What’s his problem?”
“He’s got a concussion, kiddo. Can’t blame him for being grumpy.”
“I’ve seen him get shot and be less grumpy than that.”
Dick’s sigh followed them out of the Cave, bleeding into Jason’s own sigh as he let the book fall onto the bed next to him. Jesus Christ. What was wrong with him?
* * * * *
After the concussion incident, Jason turned back to his good friend avoidance. Unfortunately, it was a tactic that could only work for so long. With word of Red Hood’s new penchant for antiheroism spreading, he could only get himself so far these days. Usually, he could fend for himself – he had Bat and League training, after all – but sometimes he had to swallow his pride and call in backup. Hence why he was crouched on an old warehouse catwalk with Nightwing and Robin, of all people.
The up-and-coming drug lord he was after this time was no joke. He was clearly bringing power in from somewhere else, probably an out-of-towner thinking he could make easy moves in such a crime-ridden city. He’d even outright taunted the Red Hood, bragging around the Alley about his impending takeover. Hood would’ve had a bullet through his head weeks ago, but unfortunately, the asshole had the skill to back up his bravado
Hood had only caved when the first bodies showed up, done in by whatever the shithead had laced the drugs with.
The second he got wind of this meeting, he’d reached out to Nightwing for backup. Most stakeouts Hood would handle on his own, whether he was getting help with the case or not, but this time he wasn’t taking any risks. He even bit his tongue on any snide comments when Nightwing showed up with Robin, insisting that three sets of eyes were better than two.
Of course, that only mattered if the fuckers actually showed up.
Three hours in without a sign of movement and Hood was ready to admit he’d been played. Whatever Drug-Fucker was doing that night, he’d wanted Hood out of the way, and he’d gotten more than he’d bargained with half the Bats detained at the same time. Hood wasn’t looking forward to the news that came in tomorrow, haunted by visions of bodies in the streets even as Nightwing and Robin practically dragged him from the warehouse. Still, he made sure his pity party was over by the time they reached a nearby BatBurger.
“I’m getting my fries jokerized,” Robin said as they settled on the roof, trying to decide their order, “and I don’t care what you have to say about it.”
Hood shrugged, unlatching his helmet. “It’s the only decent way to eat them.”
Nightwing looked at both of them like they were insane.
“You can’t give me that look,” Hood said. “I’ve seen you eat your cereal with orange juice before.”
“I was eighteen! You can’t still hold that against me!”
Robin cocked his head to the side, his domino wrinkling with the furrow in his brow. “What’s wrong with orange juice?”
Hood shook his head. “Not drinking it, little bird. He full-on drenched his Wheatie-O’s in orange juice.”
The kid’s face quickly twisted in horror as he turned back to Nightwing. “That’s disgusting.”
“Okay, one, they were not Wheatie-O’s, those sound disgusting. Two, I was a teenager–”
“So? I’m a teenager now.”
“And you have more Zesti in your body than blood, you don’t count.”
“He’s got you there, kid.”
“Hey, I’m on your side!”
“You’re right. It’s a perfectly respectable amount of Zesti, I’m sure.”
Nightwing flicked Hood on the forehead. “Look– my questionable teenage diet has nothing to do with the fact that you two want fries named after a murderous psychopath–”
Robin tilted his head to the side – not exactly beating back the bird allegations there. “Doesn’t it though? I mean, orange juice cereal soup kind of makes you a psychopath too–”
“That’s it!”
Hood’s chuckling at the ridiculous argument was quickly drowned out by the shrieky giggles of a far-too-ticklish mini-vigilante. Nightwing was a flurry of quick jabs and wiggling fingers, digging into all the less-armored areas of Robin’s uniform he could reach – places that required mobility that didn’t allow for bulk, like knees and elbows and armpits. Robin squirmed like a feral alleycat, almost slipping off the edge of the roof if not for Nightwing’s quick reflexes.
That sick, slimy feeling returned to Jason’s chest, and Jason couldn’t help but poke at it with a metaphorical stick. It certainly wasn’t jealousy — no, he remembered the cloying, bitter tang of jealousy well, and this oozing stickiness didn’t quite fit the bill. Plus, why would he be jealous in the first place? It was pretty fucking funny to watch the newest Robin squirm around and squeak like a ferret shoved into a plastic tub of dry pasta.
… He really needed to tell Dick to stop sending him TikToks.
Whatever the itching in his chest, though, it was fucking obnoxious. Not even the muffled cheeps from the little bird could pull him out of it, as hilarious as watching the kid try to muffle his laughter was. It was a pretty useless endeavor, from what Hood remembered; Nightwing had gotten him like that once or twice, the few times they’d patrolled together before his world exploded (literally). Batman armored up the Robin suit more and more with each model, but there was no stopping the soft spots around joints for mobility — especially for a kid meant to be so flippy. He learned to never underestimate how ticklish knees and armpits and even fucking elbows could be when they were the only things accessible.
“Hood, help!” Robin called out, stupidly reaching an arm in his direction. Nightwing took swift advantage.
Hood scoffed, polishing an invisible smudge off his helmet. “You’re on your own, kid.”
It came out a lot more sullen than he intended. The play fight paused next to him, an awkward silence filling the space instead. Nightwing cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll go order for you little rebels. I’ll be right back.”
He flipped off the roof before they could say anything. So much for emotional intelligence. Robin fiddled with his gloves for a moment as Hood finally set aside his helmet, then piped up.
“It’s not your fault.”
Hood’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“The stakeout. It’s not your fault, he tricked you.”
The back of Hood’s throat itched with the desire to snark back, tell the kid that he didn’t know shit about Hood, to quit making assumptions… But it was the perfect out. Plus, it wasn’t like the kid was totally off base, just tugging at the wrong sulky string.
“Supposed to be better than that — who knows what the asshole was actually up to tonight.”
Robin shrugged. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it sucks and there’s definitely gonna be consequences, but like — even Batman gets tricked sometimes.”
Hood went to rub at his eyes, only to stop short when he made contact with his domino mask. “Kid–”
“Plus, you weren’t the only one who missed it. Nightwing and I looked over the entire case file you sent over – twice – and missed it, too. Even Oracle went over it and didn’t catch it.”
“He’s good.”
“So? We’re better.”
Ah, the classic Robin confidence. Hood remembered it well. “What would you suggest then, smartass?”
He got a classic feral grin in return – almost the spitting image of Nightwing’s when he was in the traffic light colors.
Alright, maybe Hood would hear the kid out.
* * * * *
The living room window slid open with a quiet hiss. Jason woke instantly, hand already reaching for the gun tucked underneath his pillows. He tossed off the threadbare sheets, rolling silently to his feet even as he heard the window hiss a second time. He hadn’t heard the intruder land – they were either smart, trained, or both. He lowered his center of gravity and slipped through his bedroom door, readying his gun as he steadied his breath, and–
“Little Wing? I know you’re home!”
Jason instantly lowered the gun, flicking the safety back on, and rose to his full height, just in time for Dick to saunter into view of the hallway.
“Goddammit, Dick. I almost shot you.”
Dick gave him a lopsided grin. “Aww, come on, Jay! You could never shoot me.”
“I literally have.”
Dick just shrugged, turning back to the living room and flopping onto the couch.
“Sure,” Jason scoffed, “make yourself at home.”
“Thanks! I think I will.”
Jason heaved a sigh and set his gun on the counter separating the living room and kitchen. “Seriously, man. What are you doing here? Aside from interrupting my evening nap.”
Dick shrugged again. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop in.”
“Yeah, cut the shit. No one just happens to be in Crime Alley.”
“Alright, alright, fine. I wanted to hang out with my baby brother, is that so wrong?”
“Well, you’re in the wrong place for that. Timmy-boy should be back at the Manor, shouldn’t he? Or are Mommy and Daddy Dearest back in town? Maybe check the Drake property.”
“He’s with his team, actually.” Dick rolled his eyes. “And I can have more than one baby brother, you know.”
Jason glanced around the room, making a show of peeking into the dark corners of the apartment. “I dunno, man. I’m not seeing any babies here.”
“Jay, come on.”
“You first.”
Dick pursed his lips, crossed his arms. They had a brief stare-off, but Dick relented faster than he expected, slumping into the lumpy old couch with a sigh.
“I wanted to check on you.”
Jason wrinkled his nose, his shoulders raising. “Why?”
“You just – you seemed sort of off last night, at the BatBurger.”
Jason scoffed, slipping into the kitchen proper. Doing something with his hands meant he didn’t have to look at Dick and his manipulative ass. “My stakeout went to shit, what do you want with me?”
Thankfully, Dick stayed on the couch. “You and Tim were joking around before you shut down.”
“Maybe it didn’t hit me right away.”
“And before that? You’ve been avoiding us since your concussion.”
Water. That was something to do with his hands. Jason grabbed a glass from the cupboard and debated for a moment whether he should fill it from the tap. Then again, if he intentionally poisoned himself with shitty Gotham water to escape this conversation, Dick would know immediately that he was right. He sighed, going for the jug in the fridge.
“I’ve been busy.”
“And before that? When you were acting weird?”
Jason turned toward him, looking at him like he was insane. “I had a concussion. What are you trying to get at here, Dick?”
Dick shrugged – god, Jason was getting sick of that – and leaned back into the couch. “You tell me.”
“You’re as paranoid as Bruce is.”
Dick hefted himself up from the couch, making his way toward Jason and leaning on the counter with crossed arms. The kitchen island was the only thing separating them.
“Your shoulders are squared and tensed, like you’re preparing for a blow–”
“Don’t.”
“–You’re trying to look busy, so you don’t have to look at me. You’re putting up literal walls between us, using the physical barriers of the counter and even your glass of water–”
“Dick, seriously. I’m warning you.”
“–You’ve got that tension around your eyes, that scrunch in your eyebrows, that happens when you’re upset about something–”
“Fucking, stop! Just shut up!”
“Pretend you’re mad all you want, Jay. That look means you’re upset. Not mad, not angry or pissed off or full of fucking rage like you love to pretend you always are. Something’s bothering you – I don’t understand why it has to be like pulling teeth just to get you to admit it! Let alone talk about it, god forbid.”
“Jesus Christ, Dick! Can’t you mind your own business for once in your life? You’re not my keeper!”
“I’m not trying to control you, Jason! I’m just trying to help–”
“By studying me like– like a fucking bug under a microscope? Like one of the fucking Rogues?”
Dick took a deep breath, pushing himself up onto his palms and hanging his head. His hair flopped down around his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t have… analyzed you like that.”
Jason took a shuddering breath, setting aside his glass and leaning his own palms on the counter.
“I was worried about you. That doesn’t mean I should start treating you like a case. Acting like Bruce.”
Jason was silent for a few moments, their unsteady breathing becoming the only sound filling the apartment. He closed his eyes. “It’s hard to turn off.”
Dick ran a hand through his hair, letting out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it really is. Let me tell you, man, romantic partners? They really hate it when you pull that.”
Jason huffed. “Duly noted.”
Another stretch of silence. The sound of their breathing, slowing evening out. A thread of sirens blew past on the street below.
“... So?”
Jason slumped over, elbows on the counter as he ground the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. “Fuck, man, I don’t even know.”
Dick stayed silent, doing that obnoxious thing where he let Jason work through it on his own.
“I just, feel weird.”
“Weird how?”
Jason rubbed at his chest. “It’s sticky and oozing and uncomfortable.”
Dick stood up straight. “All the time?”
Jason shook his head.
“When?”
Jason pursed his lips. What was he even supposed to tell Dick? Oh, often when you’re giving the kid attention and not me – but it’s not jealousy, I promise! Yeah, Dick would believe that. Instead he took a page out of Dick’s book. He shrugged.
“Okay.” And Jason had no idea when Dick shifted, but suddenly he was halfway around the island, moving slowly like Jason was some kind of cornered animal. “It happened when you had the concussion and were stuck in the Cave. It happened again last night. Did it happen at all between then?”
Jason shrugged again.
Admittedly, yes, it had. He’d had way too much time to himself during his concussion, too much time to think and lose himself to memories – and it wasn’t like he immediately escaped his own mind once he got back in the field. Sometimes the feeling was caused by memories of Bruce (though those came with the bite of bitterness and anger) or Alfred, but it was mostly from his memories with Dick, few as they were. With the state of Bruce and Dick’s relationship when Jason was a snot-nosed little brat like Tim, Dick hadn’t been around often. They’d had a pretty rocky start, too – though not as rough as his and Tim’s vigilant equivalent of a fistfight behind the Waffle House at 3 a.m. Still, after Dick got his head out of his ass, he’d tried his best. The best an exhausted eighteen year old could after being replaced, and Jason couldn’t help but clutch onto those memories.
Days where Dick would pick Jason up from school on his motorcycle and they’d go out for ice cream. Weekends when Bruce was on League missions or W.E. trips and Dick would come by and actually stay – movie nights, meals, training, anything they wanted to do (within reason – per Alfred, of course). Patrols, even when Dick and Bruce were barely talking, where Jason got to flit off with his predecessor and truly learn how to be Robin – things Batman couldn’t teach him, things only Dick knew. Goofing around like brothers, tussling and play-arguing and (though Jason would never admit fondness for the memories under pain of death) getting the shit tickled out of him.
There weren’t as many as Jason wished he had. And that was the problem.
“You know,” Dick started, and they’d been silent for so long that Jason almost jumped when he spoke, “this safehouse is pretty shit.”
The comment was such a non-sequiter that Jason actually sputtered a laugh. “It’s not an apartment, Dickhead. It’s a place to shower and crash before diving out and doing it again the next night.”
“I actually still keep some safehouses here in Gotham, just in case. Not Bat ones, my own. They’re pretty cushy.”
“What are you getting at?”
Dick gave him that innocent, puppy-eyed look. “Movie night? Batman-free?”
“And, what, skip patrol?”
Dick patted the counter with his palm before pushing off it and moving towards the door. “Timmy’s plan needs some time to set in motion – not much we can do about your guy tonight. Batman and the Birds of Prey should have the basic crime handled, I think.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You coming?”
Jason glanced around his pitiful safehouse, barely containing the bare essentials.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, palming his phone and following Dick out.
He ducked his head to hide his grin when Dick let out a whoop of victory.
* * * * *
Alright, fine. Maybe Dick was onto something with Jason’s safehouse being a piece of shit. Full up on greasy takeout with some mindless action movie on the TV, Jason was all but melted into the remarkably non-lumpy couch cushions. He wasn’t necessarily sleepy, but he could feel his eyes drooping with lazy contentment. Through his haze, he could hear Dick let out a quiet huff of a laugh right before a set of toes jabbed into his thigh.
“Someone’s comfortable.”
Jason shoved at Dick’s feet “Fuck off, man,” he said, though there was no heat in his voice. “You’ll ruin it.”
Dick laughed again, twisting his legs away from Jason’s swatting to poke at his legs again. “Come on, you can’t sleep yet! Movie night!”
“I’m not sleeping,” he groaned. “Quit kicking.”
Dick didn’t listen. In fact, he got even worse. Jason’s lax torso shook with the force of the constant prodding, mismatch-socked toes digging into his thigh and ribs and arm. He had fully slumped down the couch to reach, but even as stretched out as he was, he was too nimble for Jason to catch — especially when Jason’s limbs were still weighed down by drowsiness.
Well, two could play at that game — and Jason was taller and bulkier. He had this shit in the bag.
Jason swung his own legs up onto the couch, sitting with his back against the armrest. Dick’s eyes lit up with that mischievous twinkle of his, immediately engaging in this weird leg-war without giving Jason a moment to adjust. He didn’t even know what they were doing — just that he needed to be the one victorious and out-obnoxious Dick. Before too long, it turned into a fight over who could keep their legs on the inside, closest to the back of the couch — coveted for its defensibility. Jason was certain he was going to wake up with shins covered in bruises the next morning, but it didn’t matter. It still couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Especially not when he finally got his legs tucked up against the back of the couch.
“Take that, Dickface!” He crowed, and promptly used his new leverage to fully kick Dick off the couch.
“Ow, hey! You’re such a sore winner!”
Jason grinned at him over the edge of the couch, his chest lighting up at the playful scowl on Dick’s face. Somewhere, deep inside where he hadn’t even known he’d locked it away, some small fragment of the boy he’d once been was practically singing with joy. Maybe not every piece of that kid was lost.
“Shut up, you big baby,” he said. “That didn’t even hurt.”
Dick flipped him the bird. “I’ll show you hurt!”
He snatched up Jason by the ankles, yanking and managing to tug Jason about a foot down the couch. Jason yelped and reached up and behind himself to grab at the arm of the couch. When Dick just pulled harder, Jason started trying to kick him off.
“Such a cheater!” Dick said.
“Literally how in the fuck am I even cheating?”
“Come on, let go!”
Jason held on tighter. He tried to pull himself higher back onto the couch, but despite having the upper hand when it came to brute strength, Dick had the better leverage. They just got stuck in some fucked-up game of tug-of-war, Jason being the rope.
Dick suddenly started scratching at the bottom of his socked foot with his fingers. Despite what his initial, instinctive flinch suggested, Jason actually didn’t feel much of the sensation. He was more grateful than ever that he refused Steph’s constant invites to get pedicures with her and Dick (and sometimes Tim, when she forced him) – those were his callouses and dead skin, thank you very much, and they clearly left him well-armored.
“Come on,” Dick whined. “You used to be ticklish here!”
“Tough shit, Dickface. Some of us grow out of that.”
Dick narrowed his eyes and a thrill went down Jason’s spine. Then, like he had fucking telepathy or some shit, Dick grinned. Big and evil and full of big-brother-malice, the likes of which Jason hadn’t seen directed at himself in so many years.
“You’re such a shit liar.”
“I’m a fucking phenomenal liar, thank you very— Dick!”
Dick wasted no time in launching himself back onto the couch, fully on top of Jason, hands aiming for his torso. Jason barely managed to catch him by the wrists, grunting at the impact even as he tried to twist Dick’s arms to the side at a weird enough angle that he’d be forced to follow and fall off the couch. Unfortunately, Dick was made of overcooked noodles and silly string, so he could easily contort his body with Jason’s manipulations. Jason did the next best thing he could think of: he rolled them off the couch, fighting to land on top. If he could get Dick pinned under him, that was it, he would be safe. Hell, he might even be able to get revenge for all the tickle attacks from when he was a kid.
Dick laughed as they fell. “Nice try, Jay!”
They landed on the carpet with a loud thud, probably about to win the award for World’s Worst Upstairs Neighbors, and Jason was instantly confronted with the next fault in his plan.
Noodles and fucking silly string.
As much as Jason scrambled for the upper hand, twisting and shoving and grappling, Dick was too slippery. His years of experience, both in the circus and in the suit, outpaced Jason’s brute strength at every turn. No matter how Jason tried to pin him, Dick managed to slither out of his grip like a greased eel, laughing like a motherfucker all the while. It was almost like he was playing with Jason — which he confirmed when he twisted in some complicated, incomprehensible maneuver and pinned Jason on his stomach, wrists pressed into the carpet on either side of his head.
“Get your fat ass off of me!”
“My ass is a perfectly normal size, thank you very much!”
“Tell that to Twitter!”
Dick tutted. “You’re only making this worse for yourself, baby brother.”
Jason glared at Dick over his shoulder. “Who are you calling a fucking baby, asshole?”
“Overcompensating with swearing doesn’t make you not my baby brother, Jay.”
“Fuck you!”
“Alright, alright!” Dick laughed, settling himself more firmly over Jason’s thighs. “I’ll put you out of your misery.”
Jason’s wrists were freed, but before he could do anything about it, there were fingers prodding up under his arms, searching around his upper ribs and the soft spots in his armpits. He yelped, pinning his arms down against his sides in a classically futile defense, and prayed to any deity with their ears open that the Lazarus Pit fixed whatever part of his brain that made him completely useless when he was tickled.
“See! A liar!”
Jason grit his teeth, trying not to smile at the experimental prodding. “Cut it out, Dick!”
“No, no — see, I think you deserve this. You’ve been getting off way too easy since you got back. I mean, when’s the last time I even tickled the absolute snot out of you?”
Jason growled, ducking his head as his struggles continued to try and hide the heat gathering in his cheeks.
“Exactly! And see, I could just go right for your hips, quick and ruthless as the Red Hood himself, but where would the fun in that be?”
A wobbly grin started to form despite Jason’s best efforts. “I’ll make sure your death is slow.”
“So you can spend more time with me? Aww, Jay! That’s so sweet!”
Suddenly, the poking and prodding fingers wrapped around Jason’s upper ribs, some stretching up into his armpit. Then, they started pulsing. Jason’s nerves lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, the sensation shockingly nostalgic and starkly unfamiliar all at once. He wheezed once into the carpet, failing to hold back his laughter anymore, and cracked into low, raspy chuckles.
“Liar.” Dick said again, smug as hell.
Jason didn’t dare try to reply. He could feel the higher-pitched laughter filling his chest, and it was all he could do to keep the noises escaping him low and rough. If he tried to talk, he had no doubt he’d lose his grip on that control.
Except — Dick’s hands started moving. The pulsing turned into wiggly squeezes as Dick’s hands started making their way down his ribs and sides. A giddy sort of panic filled Jason’s chest. Dick just said going right for his hips was too easy, but was that a fakeout? He started squirming even more, trying to wriggle his way out from under Dick’s weight.
“Ge-get away!”
Dick laughed. “Why? Do my hands right here—“ he tazed his fingers into the meat of Jason’s sides, just above the hypersensitivity of his hips “—make you nervous?”
Growling through laughter was a bit of a moot point, Jason quickly found out. It was all wavering and jittery and stuttering. Dick only cooed at him even more, the absolute asshole.
“Don’t worry, baby bro — I’ll save the best for last.”
The hands vanished from his sides, letting Jason gasp in a full breath, before materializing around his nape and ears. Jason squeaked — fucking squeaked, goddamnit — and nearly slammed his forehead against the ground as he flinched away. The fingers gave a particularly devastating scratch at the curves of his neck and shoulders for that.
“Careful!” Dick didn’t even have the decency to sound sorry. “Knocking yourself out just delays the tickles — and then they build up and up and up, and they’ll be even worse when they finally catch you again!”
“That doesn’t—“ dammit, there was the high-pitched, warbling voice, “doesn’t even make any sense!”
He sniggered into the carpet, shaking his head as he tried to dodge the finger tips and nails wreaking havoc on his skin, and if he got rug burn on his face, Dick was going to pay. His shoulders shrugged and shimmied around like some kind of deranged turtle tearing it up on the dance floor, and Jason couldn’t even dedicate the brain cells he needed to be properly embarrassed about that. Every cylinder was too busy firing on it tickles, it tickles, it tickles!! Well, all except the one sneaky little cylinder betraying Jason’s hard-earned image, giddy and happy and full of mushy-little-brother feelings that he didn’t want to touch with a fifteen foot pole.
For a split second, Dick’s fingers jumped down and wiggled at the edges of his shoulderblades before returning to his neck. Jason jolted like he’d been electrocuted, his shriek so ear-piercing that it hurt even his own hearing. Fuck — did that always tickle that bad? Dick cackled above him.
“Careful, Little Wing! Those shoulders keep dancing and my fingers just might be tempted to join them.”
Oh, fuck no. No way. If that’s just how a quick tickle felt, his entire body lighting up with the sparks of it, there was no way that was happening again. And that was just his back! If Dick got to his hips? It was game over for Jason. His pride (and his vocal cords) would never recover. As much as that small little part of him was having fun, had made it so maybe he wasn’t trying to get away as best as he could, it was time Jason called it quits. He had a reputation to maintain, even if Dick had already shredded half of it to ribbons.
As unbearable as the tickles around his neck and ears were, it was far from being one of Jason’s worst spots. That meant, although he had to fight hard for those dregs of composure, he still had some control over his faculties. All he needed to do was to throw Dick off, and once the tingly tickles stopped, he could whip his metaphorical mask back on and be all surly and pissed and keep Dick from doing it again.
No matter how much this stupid torment felt like coming home.
Slow and trembling, Jason was able to get his arms braced against the floor. Still chuckling endlessly and swallowing back the giggles that wanted to burst forth, Jason counted to three in his head before finally pushing off the ground, his forearms grounded as his torso lifted.
“Oh — thanks, Jason!” Dick’s hands darted into the space between the floor and his body. “I was wondering how I was gonna get in there!”
The second Dick’s fingers touched down on his stomach, pinching and kneading and scratching and really just doing all of the most evil things possible to his nerves, Jason was a goner. The ticklish shock sent Jason right back to the ground, only pressing Dick’s hands deeper into his muscles. Though Jason’s initial squawk was in his usual deep register, the laughter that jumped out of him was nowhere close. It wasn’t giggles, thank fucking god, but the bright, bubbly laughter being forced out of him might’ve been just as bad.
“You— asshole!”
“Aww, listen to you! Did I find a good tickle spot?”
Fuck Dick, he knew that — and he knew rubbing it in only made it worse, too. The urge to curl up in a protective ball was all-consuming, but with Dick pinning him on his stomach, his legs could only scrabble uselessly at the floor as they tried to draw up to his chest. Jason’s arms, at the very least, still had freedom of movement. He glued his elbows to his sides while his forearms tucked up under his chest, his hands curled into fists. That bright, boyish laughter continued to tumble from his lips, and not even shoving his face into the carpet could muffle it.
“You always had the cutest reaction to tummy tickles, huh? I mean, Timmy does too, so you guys are tied now, but still! Maybe it’s just a baby brother thing.”
Dropping Tim’s ticklish secrets wouldn’t save Dick from getting murdered later, but Jason definitely tucked that one into the back of his mind. Well, he tried to. Hoped he did. It was kind of hard to think around the tickles and Dick’s teasing.
“You sound just like you did when you were a kiddie, though! All cute and bubbly and bright – I didn’t even know your voice could go this high anymore.”
Yeah, neither did Jason. “Shut the fuck up!”
Dick chuckled. “Really, Jay? Have you been reduced to nothing but curse words and posturing anger already? We need to get your tolerance back up!”
Oh god, Dick was going to do this again? His chest did that mortifyingly melty, gooey thing again and Jason shoved his face further into the carpet. He’d undoubtedly been pink since Dick had started, had probably blushed darker when his laughter turned all bubbly and borderline fucking sweet, but now? Jason could feel the heat flush down his neck and up into his ears – even the back of his neck burned. Based on the way he cooed above Jason, Dick had definitely noticed.
“Don’t worry – I’ll make sure you get plenty of tickles going forward. We have so many missed tickles to make up for, too! Say, when are you free next?”
“Never!”
Dick blew a sudden raspberry on the back of his neck. Jason squeaked and giggled and hunched his shoulders, drumming his feet against the carpet.
“Don’t be a brat. I can always just break into your safehouses, Tickle Monster style.”
Motherfucker. Jason hadn’t thought about that in years – not even on his trips during memory lane the past weeks. Sometimes, on Dick’s rare Manor visits, he’d come by without letting anyone know and hide himself away. Usually, it was an area Jason frequented, like the library or den or even kitchen. Hallways weren’t off-limits, either. Hell, he even hid in Bruce’s study once, when the old man had already been downstairs. And then, when Jason would pass through the space, he’d get a surprise tickle attack from none other than Dick Grayson. He’d learned to check the front hall upon arriving home eventually, looking for Dick’s jacket or shoes or keys, but knowing the dumbass was there and avoiding his attacks were two very different things. It had led to some absolutely legendary chases through the Manor, though. Even if Alfred nearly had their hides for it a few times.
“Try it,” Jason hissed, miserably failing to sound as threatening as he wanted to. Laughing like a little kid tended to do that.
“Challenge accepted, JayJay.”
“Stop fucking babying me, you– NO!”
Jason was given absolutely no warning as Dick’s hands shot from his stomach down to his hips. He all but screamed before going limp against the floor, cackling madly. A thumb to the divot of his hip was bad enough, but being pinned face down meant Dick had four whole fingers to dig into the spot.
“I think we oughta ease you back into the swing of things, huh Lil’ Wing? Figured I’d give you your grand finale now, before you got too tuckered out.”
“Dickie, no no nonono!”
Dick’s weight shifted, but he didn’t lift himself from Jason’s body. His voice was mortifyingly fond and thick when he spoke next. “Wanna know something, baby brother?” He leaned down again, putting his voice right next to Jason’s ear. “I missed spending time and playing around with you, too. You could’ve just asked.”
Jason scrubbed his head against the floor, only giving a fraction of his attention to trying not to rug burn himself. The rest of his mind was all warm fuzzies and ticklish screams.
Dick’s voice turned playful again, though the fondness remained. “I guess this is more fun though, huh? Good thing you invited me over to do it again and again and again!”
“Dick– Dick, please!”
Jason can’t remember the last time he begged from tickles. Even as a kid, he was stubborn as all hell, but – the fondness, the emotions, the teasing dialing everything up to eleven? It was a lot. Jason’s pride would have to take the hit this time. Thankfully, Dick immediately drew his hands away and reseated himself next to Jason on the floor. Jason curled up his protective little ball, knees tucked up toward his chest and arms wrapped around them. It was more difficult than the last time he’d done it, his new bulk and musculature getting in the way, but he hadn’t lost all of his Robin-hood flexibility.
Dick snorted softly. “You always were a little pillbug.”
“Sh’dd’p.”
Dick chuckled again. His hand landed on Jason’s back, but even palm-flat, Jason instinctively flinched and yipped. Another laugh, and Dick’s hand was removed. Despite the assumption of tickles, Jason had to hold back a whine from the loss of contact.
“Alright, alright, sorry. Too ticklish, I know.”
Dick’s hand reappeared in his hair instead, dragging through the tangled curls, slow and steady. Jason hummed, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Just take some time to recover. Then we’ll get back to the movie, all cuddled up on the couch now that you can’t pretend that you’re a big grump anymore, and you’ll get some good sleep. All snug as a bug in a rug.”
“Not a lil’ kid.”
“I know, Jason. But you’ll always be my little brother.”
And maybe, just for tonight, Jason could be okay with that.
Welllll, I never finished the fic 😭 I feel like I will eventually but I can’t force it I guess. I’m gonna try to have a head cannon post up after work if it doesn’t go too late!
Obligatory sorry I gave yall a deadline and did not meet it creative energy has been sucked out of me this month
I have a short little Dick and Dami blurb I keep trying to force into a longer fic, but since I’ve been too indecisive to post any snippets I think I’m just gonna keep it short and try to wrap it up to post tonight or tomorrow!
a/n: this was my emotional-support project to balance out everything else I had to do this week :) inspiration from this anon, who first suggested the possibility of Tim gifting Jason a pillbug plushie. The image of Tim just standing over Jason's bed until Jason feels The Eyes on him and wakes up comes from @august-anon 's fic Know Your Weaknesses. The image made me laugh outloud because it's such a younger sibling thing to do.
summary: one part brotherly payback, one part trust exercise, three parts Tim practicing his teasing on poor unsuspecting Jason who, for some reason, totally isn't fighting back right now.
or: Tim gifts Jason a pillbug plushie for Christmas, then later, thanks to Dick, discovers that Jason's been using it as a pillow when he sleeps. This presents many possible options, and Tim slams the 'select all' button.
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After a particularly memorable incident involving a gigantic Christmas tree, dozens of fragile glass ornaments, and young Jason’s overzealous faith in his own climbing abilities, Christmas Day had been declared neutral ground in any and all brotherly prank scuffles. The rule had held throughout the years. It was one of the few house rules that was consistently respected and enforced.
And technically, Tim wasn’t breaking it now. Really! He’d gotten Jason several gifts aside from this one, and the note attached to the bag that read this reminded me of you! was true. Just because Jason might perceive it as a prank or some other way of teasing, didn’t mean that was Tim’s intent. Sure, having Jason open it in front of Bruce, Dick, and Alfred – who would all instantly get the joke there – would probably be hilarious, but it was still a sincere gift!
As Jason used two fingers to lift the garishly red gift bag, Tim had to look away, balling his hands into fists against his legs so he wouldn’t grin and give up the whole game. “From you, Timberlina?”
“Yup,” Tim managed, and he thought he sounded normal enough. Then Dick glanced at him, tilting his head in a silent all good? so maybe Tim wasn’t as subtle as he thought. He couldn’t help it, though, he’d been looking forward to this for weeks. The moment he’d happened to glance at the stuffed animals in a downtown store window, he’d known he had to get this for Jason. It was too perfect.
Tissue paper rustled as Jason pawed through the bag’s contents. Tim kept his eyes focused on the carpet. It took most of his willpower to hold back the excited energy that made him want to grin and pace back and forth.
Jason made a confused-sounding noise. “What the hell is this – oh, you little shit. Timothy fucking Drake-Wayne, you fucking did not –”
At that, Tim finally looked over at him and instantly grinned when he saw the mixture of bafflement and embarrassment making Jason’s mouth twist up like that. Jason was sitting there, red-faced, trying to glare at Tim even though it kind of looked like he wanted to smile instead. In his hands, had a red, oblong stuffed toy that had a banana-like curve to it.
“Wait,” Dick said suddenly, reaching out and making grabby hands for Jason’s gift. “No way. Is that a red pillbug plushie?”
“It is,” Tim said, and he let himself laugh as Jason flipped him off. “And it’s not a prank! It’s true, it made me think of him, and his room here’s so boring now that he’s old and took down his posters–”
“Oh, I’ll show you boring, kid,” Jason growled as he lunged off the couch towards Tim’s perch on the coffee table.
Tim let Jason tackle him into a headlock that came with enough hair ruffling to rattle his teeth. He squirmed and snickered and squeaked when Jason poked at some of his more ticklish ribs, and overall happily settled into the role of little brother who knows he’s being annoying and enjoys it. When Jason was satisfied with his vengeance, he hauled Tim up with him and plodded back over to the couch.
Instead of going back to his spot on the table, Tim crawled onto the couch next to him and shoved his head under Jason’s arm, snuggling up against him.
“You’re annoying,” Jason said with absolutely no heat in his voice.
“You’re a plushie,” Tim retorted. He grinned, and his cheeks ached. It was going to be a great Christmas.
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The first time it happened, Tim’s phone nearly vibrated off the nightstand when six texts from Dick came through at once. Ugh. Tim was barely awake, but he swiped his phone open just to be sure nothing horrible had happened.
DeeG: tim!! j’s roomNOW
DeeG: Tim. Tiiiiiiiiim!!!
DeeG: image.png
DeeG: he’s sleeping w it
DeeG: im DYING
DeeG: timmy wake up u have to come see.
The photo attachment – Tim squinted and had to hold his phone right up to his face to make out the blurry image without his glasses – oh, it was Jason.
Jason who’d evidently crashed hard last night because he was sprawled over his comforter, the side of his face smashed into a pillow, one of his legs half-curled up towards his stomach. There was something red in his arms that looked like it was partially wedged under his head.
Oh, it was the pillbug.
Funnily enough, with that realization, Tim was much, much more awake. He scrambled out of bed and just barely avoided getting his feet stuck in his sheets, then scurried across the hall to where Dick was standing in Jason’s doorway.
“Is it real?” he asked, then yawned.
Dick turned sideways so Tim could see past him. “Sure is, Baby Bird. See for yourself.”
Just like in the picture, Jason was indeed sleeping with the stuffed pillbug Tim had gifted him for Christmas. He was practically curled up around it.
Thinking about Jason and sweet in the same sentence didn’t feel entirely natural, even though Tim had had plenty of opportunities to see the softer, mushier side of Jason’s personality bleed through here and there. Maybe it was because Jason was built out like a fridge and an NFL linebacker had a baby that spawned fully-formed. Yeah, that was probably it.
“Aww,” Tim whispered, leaning against Dick’s arm.
Dick adjusted his stance to wrap said arm around Tim’s shoulders and pull him into a sideways hug. “Yeah. I got a picture to send to Wally, it’ll put me at least ten points up.”
Ah, yes. Dick and Wally had been embattled in a contest over who had the cutest little siblings for over a month. The scoring system made absolutely no sense, but they stuck to it fastidiously. All that Tim and Bart had learned was that the instant those two started bickering, the topic would eventually come around to that, and it was best to not be in the room unless they wanted a double-barreled helping of older brother teasing.
Tim hummed in acknowledgement.
Dick pocketed his phone. “Think we should wake him up?”
“No!” To make sure Dick understood that this was important, Tim looked up at him with the best wide-eyed, earnest expression he could muster while still waking up. “If he knows you saw, he’ll stop.”
The way Dick’s mouth twitched at the corners was eerily similar to Bruce, but instead of saying anything, he just leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Tim’s forehead. When he leaned back, it was to give Tim the mushiest, sappiest smile in his repertoire, and it was too early for Tim to know what to do with that so he just turned to his long-reliable move of hiding his face in Dick’s shoulder.
“Alright, Tim, let’s let him sleep.”
“Yeah,” Tim mumbled. “If you stare at him for too long he senses it and wakes up.”
Dick’s answering chuckle rumbled through his chest. He steered Tim backwards into the hallway, then closed Jason’s door. By then, Tim had shifted away, ready to be perceived again.
“Is that what all the yelling and squeaking was on Christmas?”
Or maybe being perceived was a bad idea. The heat spreading up Tim’s cheeks certainly thought so.
“Maybe,” he said, hedging. On Christmas, he’d originally gone into Jason’s room to wake him up but ended up wondering if Jason could sense eyes on him, even in his sleep. The answer had turned out to be yes, but the price for that knowledge was being dragged down into a headlock and tickled silly.
For once, Dick didn’t press. He just ruffled Tim’s hair and started for the stairs, motioning for Tim to follow. “You’re probably right that he should sleep,” the casual lilt to the words immediately set Tim’s teeth on edge, “but I was going to tickle him. Sleeping with the pillbug is basically an open invitation. Plus I’m heading back to Blud today, so I need another hit for the road.”
Since Tim was still a little tired and a lot out of it, he didn’t sense the trap. Instead, he just stifled a yawn and asked, “Hit of what?”
“Little brother giggles, obviously,” Dick replied, shooting him a smirk. He jumped the last six stairs and pivoted midair so he landed facing Tim and spread his arms out like he wanted a hug. “Luckily, you’re right here.”
Tim couldn’t halt his momentum in time to keep out of reach, so he just yelped when Dick grabbed him in a bear hug and threw him over his shoulder as he marched towards the kitchen.
“Dick!” he cried, cut off by a wave of uncontrollable giggles when Dick wormed one hand free to dig into his stomach. “He-hehey, it’s too earlyhehe!”
He could hear the smile in Dick’s voice when his older brother replied with, “Sorry, Timmy, can’t hear you. Could you try not to giggle? Unless you’re super tickly ticklish, I guess – oh, sounds like it.” Dick, evil genius that he was, followed that statement up by spidering his fingers across one of those soft spots next to Tim’s navel that sent him into peal after peal of helpless giggles, no matter how much he kicked and thrashed.
Oh, Jason was going to owe him big, huge, gigantic for this one.
“Tim,” Jason growled, but he didn’t seem too intimidating as he jabbed his elbow back to knock Tim’s hand away from his side.
“Hey, I convinced Dick to let you sleep,” Tim said. He clumsily patted the top of Jason’s head. “And he got me instead. Ergo, you owe me.”
Once Dick was safely off to Bludhaven, Tim had gone right back upstairs and threw himself onto Jason’s bed, working off of the rickety logic that since Tim had spared Jason from Dick’s mischief, Jason had to put up with some of Tim’s own shenanigans.
The bedframe cracked as Jason shifted on his side to smirk at him over his shoulder. “So that’s what all the racket was earlier. I could hear you from up here, giggle brat.”
Heat exploded in Tim’s cheeks as he tried to glare at his dumb older brother. “I took one for team little brother, okay? I’m entitled to some recompense.”
“You’re entitled to jack-fuckin’-shit, you little – hey.” Jason’s voice carried a warning note as Tim poked him in the side again, but he didn’t actually move to uncurl.
“Besides, you’ve been all growly and boring lately.” Tim poked him another time, grinning as Jason’s attempt at a growl came out more like a strangled shriek. “You should lighten up a bit.”
This time, instead of going for Jason’s side, Tim decided to try something he’d caught Bruce doing a couple times – only Bruce, though, never Dick, which made it seem like Dick might not even know…
Tim prodded into the edge of Jason’s shoulderblade, right next to his armpit, and Jason jerked like a wild horse.
“Timmy!”
Oh god, his voice cracked. Tim almost cackled, but restrained himself at the last minute.
“I’ve only seen B do that,” he said, and he thought he managed to keep most of the laughter out of his voice. “Does Dick even know about this spot?”
Jason – Jason tightened his grip on the pillbug, pressing his forehead against it with a muffled, “I will end your life.”
“Nah. I’m your perfect baby brother,” Tim said as he used his thumb and index finger to make a light series of pinches in that spot, right at the top of the crease where Jason was trying to keep his arm clamped to his side. “You don’t want to kill me, you – oh, that bad, huh? In this teeny tiny spot? No wonder Dick has no clue.”
One of Jason’s legs had spasmed outwards as he started giggling, sounding almost hysterical. “Cu-cuhut it out!”
“Oh.” Tim pulled out his best impression of Jason’s own sarcastic deadpan. “Oh no. I’m terrified.”
He switched from pinches to wriggling, vibrating pokes, switching fingers. As that kept Jason in a fit of hiccupy giggles, Tim used his other hand to worm down to Jason’s stomach and dig in.
“Aww, you’ve got a soft pillbug underbelly.”
Jason shrieked something unintelligible into the stuffed pillbug. His ears had gone bright red, and he tried to curl up tighter – as if pinning Tim’s hand there would actually stop him. Nice try, Red Hood.
“Ohh, I see why Dick does this all the time. I think you’re actually, like, adorable? Damn. Surprises every day, I guess.”
Jason’s shoulders shook as he tried to muffle his laughter in his pillow. It was an unsuccessful effort, but it’s not like Tim had any ground to judge him for it.
“I’m–I–fuhuck off!” Jason finally managed to get a couple words out around his snickering.
Tim smirked down at him. The rush of having the upper hand – and yes, he was fully aware that he was being delusional about it, since Jason never let anyone make him do anything he didn’t already want to – gave him some extra confidence, since he was usually on the other side of this particular equation.
“Why would I do that, Jase? I’m learning so many new things about you.” He used the hand that was currently digging into Jason’s abdominals to skitter up over his side, then reached over to squeeze at his kneecap.
Jason’s whole body jerked as he snorted, still giggling as Tim kept poking around the edge of his shoulder blade, too. Most of his face was hidden between the stuffed pillbug and his pillows, but what Tim could see of his face and neck were flushed crimson. For a hardened, League-trained vigilante, it was surprisingly easy to make Jason blush if you knew how to get under his skin.
“Just be glad it’s me, not Dick,” Tim teased, snickering at Jason’s resulting groan. “You know it’d be so much worse for you, right?”
The next part of his plan required taking advantage of his older brother’s spastic reflexes, so Tim jammed his hand between Jason’s other side and the mattress to prod at that hip. As he’d predicted during his long strategy session (read: blearily eating a bowl of cereal after Dick finished tickling him into a puddle), Jason swore and tried to flip onto his front. That actually made it easier for Tim to lean forward and wrap his arms around Jason’s torso so he could use both hands to tickle his stomach.
“Shit!” Jason yelped, and he was starting to sound a little hoarse from all the giggling and whining he’d been doing. “You goddamn brat–heyheyhehehey!”
Tim just grinned and kept pulsing his fingers into the lower part of Jason’s stomach, focusing on the section near his bellybutton that drew some reluctant giggles from his big brother.
“Do you pillbug to hide this? Or is that what all your kevlar’s really for? Gotta protect the squishy, tickly parts, I guess.” Tim’s face muscles were starting to ache from how much he’d been smiling, but he couldn’t help it. He so so so rarely got to be the one tickling either of his older brothers, and he had to make the most of it. And, sure, he was practically digging his own grave and jumping in feet-first, but it was worth it.
“Literally no one would take you seriously if they knew how easy it was to make you giggle, like, even though I know you’re gonna kill me for doing this, I physically can’t be intimidated by you right now.”
Instead of flipping over and tackling Tim off the bed to show him just how intimidated he should be, Jason just kicked one foot out against the mattress with an embarrassed-sounding groan. And more giggles, of course.
Since this whole thing was still a trust exercise – Jason willingly letting Tim at his softer underbelly…literally and metaphorically…, Tim pushing back but not too far – it shouldn’t go on for too much longer.
With that thought in mind, Tim stopped tickling. Since Jason was still shaking with residual sniggers, Tim patted his stomach – his brothers usually did that whenever the leftover prickles kept setting Tim off into rounds of wheezy giggles, even after all the actual tickles had stopped. It seemed to help Jason, too. Eventually he heaved out a shuddering sigh and rolled back onto his side, clutching the pillbug plushie close to his chest. All the laughing and hiding had plastered some of his hair to his forehead. Tim smoothed those curls back, then patted his forehead.
Jason’s nose wrinkled and he rolled his eyes, but smiled the whole time. A faint blush still colored most of his face, but he seemed plenty relaxed as he sighed again.
Tim took that as his cue to give into his more obnoxious impulses. He let himself fall forward, sprawling across Jason’s form. “Hi.”
He felt Jason’s laugh rumble through his whole body. “Hey, Timbers.”
“Move your elbow, it’s digging into my skull.”
Jason chuckled again, but obliged, draping his arm across Tim’s back instead. “You come into my room, jump on my bed, attack me, then collapse on me like rebar, and still have demands? Shit, kiddo, you’ve gotta stop hanging out with Dick. He’s a bad influence.”
Tim snickered. “I’m glad you like Icey.”
“Who the fuck is Icey?”
It took some effort, but Tim flailed out one of his hands and smacked the stuffed pillbug. “Icey the Isopod. Oh, that’s the scientific name for pillbu–”
“I know that–”
“Okay, okay. Just wanted to check. You can name him whatever, though.”
“...his name’s RedPod.”
Any other time or place, Tim would’ve teased him about that, but Jason was already being vulnerable, so…
“I can make him a matching helmet.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“I know you’re not.” Jason stretched his arms up over his head, groaning a little as something in his shoulders popped, then knocked on Tim’s head. “Alright, up. I’m starving.”
Groaning, mostly for dramatic effect, Tim rolled off of Jason and hauled himself to his feet. “I won’t tell Dick about your shoulder.”
After digging around in a pile of clothes, Jason withdrew a well-worn Wonder Woman t-shirt and tugged it over his head. He snagged Tim with an arm draped over his shoulders on his way out the door, tugging him close and lightly jostling him.
“Oh, I believe you,” Jason said at last. “You’ll have bigger priorities soon enough, anyways.” He winked as he steered them both towards the kitchen.
Tim rolled his eyes even as butterflies started wriggling around in his stomach at Jason’s sort-of threat. When one of the muscles near his jaw twinged, he realized he was smiling again and probably looked like a dork. It was going to be a good day.
