#background jaytim

[chibinightowl]

Today has been a day. Just a lot of hospital stress this week between my mom and my husband's surgeries and this is how it's coming out (they're both fine and are recovering well).

~~~

Dick finds Tim in a waiting room at Gotham General, slumped in a faded blue plastic chair that's seen better days. At some point during the day, his brother had been immaculately dressed for the office. But now, his blue pin-striped suit is wrinkled, his collar is unbuttoned, and his shirtsleeves have been rolled up. There was a tie somewhere as Dick knows Tim never leaves home without one on an office day, but it's anyone's guess as to where it currently is.

"Hey. I got here as fast as I could," he says, taking the open seat beside Tim. He did too, calling Wally as soon as he got the news from Barbara. "How's Jason?"

Tim opens his eyes, giving him a look that is more dead than alive. "Still critical."

Pain lances through Dick at the two words. He'd lost Jason once before and the guilt from being off world when his Little Wing needed him the most still ate at him in the darkest parts of his psyche. And now, here he is sitting with another brother he never thought he'd have, one who's been through so much trauma and loss of his own--and who is on the verge of possibly losing another loved one.

A car-pedestrian accident. The gall of something so normal and mundane having the potential to take out the Red Hood--or any of them for that matter--is enough to make Dick want to punch the taupe wall of this dreary waiting room.

To be honest, he's rather surprised none of the others are here yet. Well, expect Bruce. He's off world with the JL and...

Oh.

Oh.

"Do you think Bruce knows yet?"

Tim's shrug is so minute Dick might have missed it if he wasn't watching closely. "Can't say I care right now. He and Jay got into another of their big fights before he left. Said if Jay can't clean up his act, then don't bother coming back."

Dick winces and easily reads between the lines of what Tim isn't saying given their semi-public place. Even in Bludhaven, he'd heard about the execution-style murder of a known pedophile--and that it was the Red Hood who'd done it.

"He didn't do it, Dick," Tim whispers, catching his gaze as tears build in his eyes. "I was there. I know he didn't. But Bruce didn't listen to either of us, said I was covering for him because he's in my pants." Those last words are practically spat out. "I think this is the first time I've ever felt like I hate him. He just doesn't listen!"

That's a feeling Dick knows all too well. He also knows now why the others aren't here--that Barbara called him first because Tim doesn't need just comfort.

He needs his big brother.

Dick slides from the chair to kneel on the floor in front of Tim. "Now that is something I know a lot about." He takes Tim's hands and squeezes them firmly. "I'm not going to tell you it'll get better. I'm also not going to say you need to be the bigger person and forgive him. What I am going to tell you is that I believe you and that I believe in Jason."

Tim's breath hitches and he falls into Dick's open arms sobbing. Thank yous fall from his lips and into Dick's jacket. Tears fill his own eyes as he remembers another time where he didn't believe this little bird, his first Robin.

Time hasn't necessarily dulled the guilt, but it has given him perspective. He'd done what he thought best at the time and owned up to it when he'd been proven wrong--a trait not shared by their mentor and father-figure.

"We'll get through this together," Dick soothes, running a hand up and down Tim's back. "You, me, and everyone else. We're all here for you and we're all pulling for Jason."

As he speaks, he glances up and spots Alfred hurrying down the hall with Damian and Duke in tow. Both boys are still dressed in their school uniforms, so Alfred must have pulled them out early. Behind them are Cass and Steph, hands held tightly.

"We're all here," he repeats, nudging Tim's chin to make him look up. "And we're not going anywhere."

[my-one-love-is-music]

102: "I don't remember that!" for Jason and Dick?

For Write 365 Day 169! (And more of the werewolf au) Sorry this took so long to get posted, I was struggling to figure out what to write for it and then Voltron season 6 happened and I had a fic-splosion of ideas, but….yeah here it is now.

Jason was in the Cave strapping a couple of extra daggers onto his thighs when Dick walked up. Tim was on the opposite end of the Cave. He had most of the pieces of his Red Robin uniform on, but what was going through his utility belt and restocking anything that was running low from his last patrol so many nights ago.

Dick clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him scowl. “Glad to see that you’ve finally pulled out of your overprotective haze,” he said. “I was starting to get worried the Were was taking over and you weren’t going to come back to yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, trying to shrug off the hold.

“I’m talking about when you practically perched on the edge of Tim’s bed and hissed at anyone who came close. I thought you were closer to a cat than a Were,” he said with a chuckle.

“What the fuck are you going about? I didn’t do that!” he scoffed.

“Oh really? Why don’t you check the surveillance footage,” he said, turning towards the computer. “I think there’s pretty good chunk of time where you were squatting on the hospital bed. Might’ve even cleaned yourself a couple of times for good measure…”

Jason put a hand on his arm and stopped him from doing anything he’d largely regret seeing. “No, Dick stop.” He threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled Dick against his side. He glanced over at Tim at the opposite side of the Cave, but he was still focused on his work. “I don’t remember that happening.”

Dick grinned. “Oh, Jason. Poor, poor, baby Were Jason. There are so many things you don’t know about being a Were and it’s starting to become such a wonderful thing. You know, I was pretty worried at first, but I think this is the most amusement I’ve had in a while.”

“Shut it. Yes, I’m not the most experienced at being a Were, but just tell me what happened.”

“I think it was somewhere during the first night Tim was in medical,” he mused, scratching his chin. “You were pretty exhausted and from what I can tell, the Were took over to let your mind rest and because it didn’t have much self-control, its actions were based around instinct and the need to protect. Hence, the hissing.”

Jason sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re never going to let this go are you?” he asked.

“Nope!” Dick said brightly. He ducked and slipped out of Jason’s hold, bounding across the Cave. “Hey Timmy, you want to see something hilarious?”

“No!” Jason said, chasing after him.

Tim looked up, his brow furrowing. “What?” he asked.

“Do you want to know what Jason did while you were knocked unconscious after the Were attack?” Dick asked, evading the grabs Jason made to shut him up.

“You mean the fact he perched at the edge of my bed while I was out and growled at anyone who even stepped into the Cave? Yeah, I watched those video logs like a week ago,” he said, glancing at Jason with a smirk.

“Wait, you knew?” Jason asked, mouth hanging open.

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Was I not supposed to?”

“I didn’t know,” Jason muttered.

Dick’s shoulders sagged and he grumbled under his breath before walking off, sad he’d lost the opportunity to embarrass Jason further.

Tim’s smirk softened into a smile when he looked back at Jason. “I don’t mind that it happened if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’d be worried. It’s kind of weird.”

Tim shrugged. “Our whole lives are weird. We’re vigilantes. You’re a werewolf. I think this can easily fall somewhere on the scale of normal, everyday weird that happens in our lives.”

Jason sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Well next time you need saving, don’t expect me to come. I wouldn’t want my Were to get in the way.”

“Oh, you’ll come,” Tim said as he turned to walk off. “If it’s not because of your own desire, than the Were would definitely force you to.“

He sighed again, because Were or not, he really would go save Tim.

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[cearamorran]

ok so this one’s more batfam then jaytim but it’s all i had for the prompt, my brain has dried out of ideas after this week :’)

[chibinightowl]

This is part of @comebackolivia’s birthday gift. Steph solves a mystery that’s oddly reminiscent of something that can be found in an old board game... Thanks to @snowzapped​ for the wonderful cover and to @txbookeater​ for the beta! 

Murder Mystery Mayhem can be found HERE on AO3!

[chibinightowl]

Prompt request: 21 or 25 with Jason and Steph. Thank you!!!

There is not enough Jason and Stephanie in this world. As @comebackolivia likes to say, they’re soul-sibs, and I’m inclined to agree.

25.  “Are you even listening?” - “Yes. It just takes a moment for me to process so much stupid all at once.”

~*~

Stephanie enters her small apartment, arms full of grocery bags, her mail, a green tea latte, and keys. She’s tired and hungry, which is never a good combination, but add to that the stress of an upcoming research project deadline and trying to fit patrol into the mix, it’s fairly safe to say her mood is less than stellar.

It plummets when she spots Jason seated on her couch, flipping through one of her textbooks.

“You better not have lost my spot,” she states in a flat tone, dropping her keys and mail on the table by the door.

“I bookmarked it for you,” Jason replies, setting it aside. He rises and takes some of the grocery bags from her. “Let me help.”

As tempting as it is to comment about being a woman of independent means, Steph bites her tongue as curiosity rears its head. This isn’t a social visit. Jason never just appears on her doorstep to hang out. It’s not work related though, otherwise he’d be in uniform. He’s after something. Or up to something that will annoy Bruce and she’s always down for that. 

Groceries are soon put away and Stephanie sits beside Jason back on the old couch, quietly sipping her latte. “Spill,” she finally says. “What are you doing here?”

Jason has the grace to look ashamed, eyes darting off to the side before fixating on his hands, gripping the worn denim of his jeans over his knees so tightly that its possible he may rip a hole into it. “I need some advice.”

Steph cocks her head to the side. She hasn’t quite managed the eyebrow thing the rest of them do. Less exposure to Alfred, she supposes. “About?”

“Dating.”

It’s a good thing she hadn’t taken that next sip yet or else it would be flying out her nose. “You’re joking,” she says, laughing hard.

Jason makes a disgruntled noise and glares at her, ears flushing red from embarrassment. “You’re the only one I trust not to give me complete and utter shit about this.”

This is true, but it doesn’t make it any less hilarious. Stephanie clears her throat and tries to put on a more professional face. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Really. You kinda threw this out of left field, you know?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“So, tell me all about him.” She’s long since known Jason prefers men, a fact that has probably escaped the rest of his family considering how much none of them aside from Dick even date. It’s not like she’s the most spectacular example either, but sometimes, it’s all about perspective.

Jason launches into a story about a guy he’s known for awhile and thinks is awesome, but they didn’t exactly hit it off on the right foot, so the guy thinks he’s a douchebag and so on and so forth. 

As Steph listens, a suspicion grows in her mind about who exactly it is that Jason is oh-so-carefully neglecting to mention by name. He doesn’t have a wide social circle, this much she knows. Finally, she can’t take it anymore and starts to zone out, thinking about the project she really needs to make a dent in.

“Are you even listening?” Jason asks, drawing her back to the present.

“Yes. It just takes a moment for me to process so much stupid all at once.”

“What? How is any of this stupid?” Jason looks betrayed and Steph rolls her eyes.

“Because you’re pining after my ex-boyfriend and while I appreciate you not mentioning him by name, everyone and their mother knows you’ve got a thing for him.” Steph leans over and biffs Jason upside the head. “Newsflash, moron. He’s into you too.”

Jason’s mouth, readying what is likely a vicious retort, snaps shut. “W-what?” he finally manages after a moment. “You’re shitting me.”

“If only I were, then my life would be so much easier.” She reaches into her pocket and removes her phone. Swiping at the screen, she finds a recent text from Tim and shows it to Jason.

Tim: Do you think I should just go for it? Coffee is safe enough, right? Oh, shit. He only drinks tea. I’m sure I can find a place that does both?

“See?” Steph asks, scrolling down a little bit more so that Jason can read her reply. “This was not even an hour ago.”

Jason’s eyes are a little wild as he looks up at her. “Most coffeeshops serve tea too.”

“Try telling Tim that on your date. Apparently, he’s never noticed that portion of the menu before.”

[chibinightowl]

Dick Grayson and/or Roy Harper questioning Jason Todd and Tim Drake. “Why is no one else concerned that the cat just spoke?”

You probably thought I’d forgotten about this one, huh? I still love that fantasy prompt list and have plans to write something for each one. 

~*~*~

It had been a long night. Too long, because winter was a thing that made nights even longer than they needed to be and creatures that thrived on darkness and shadows were taking full advantage. All Dick wanted as he made his way into the kitchen at the Manor was a cup of Alfred’s ginger chamomile tea to defrost his frozen body so he could fall asleep. He blamed/thanked Jason for getting him hooked on the stuff.

Dick yawned widely as he entered, spotting Alfred at the stove with the teapot already in hand. What surprised him was the fact that Tim was here. Early mornings did not make for a happy warlock, but the slightly manic grin on his face as he set a saucer of milk before a massive gray cat sitting on the kitchen island was probably explained away by the fact that he hadn’t been to bed yet. 

“Good morning, Master Dick,” Alfred said, pouring a cup of freshly brewed tea and handing it to him. “I trust you’ll be taking yourself off to bed after this?”

“Yeah,” he replied, fighting back another jaw-cracking yawn. “Jack Frost managed to get in a few good hits last night before Damian could recharge enough to throw a fireball at him.” Cold hits too. If it wasn’t for his thermal lined uniform, chances were likely he’d have a case of frostbite in a few rather sensitive areas.

“I still can’t believe you and Bruce can’t get a handle on that stupid pixie,” a new voice chimed in. 

It was familiar, but not and Dick turned to look around, having thought it was just him, Tim, and Alfred in the kitchen. He may be exhausted but there was still this thing called situational awareness that had been drilled into him since he was a child. Hunters of his and Bruce’s caliber didn’t make it far when they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings.

That sounded like Jason. But he wasn’t here. Was he? Dick’s gaze landed on Tim and the cat. 

“Mornin’,” the cat said, turning his head away from the saucer Tim continued to try and tempt him with. “I swear to all that’s holy, if you try to feed me cream one more time, I’m takin’ your face off.”

“I thought cats liked milk?” Tim asked. 

Alfred quietly stepped in and took the saucer away. “They may like the taste, but the lactose in cow’s milk can cause stomach issues and diarrhea.”

“Ohhhh.” Tim nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.” He launched into a story about his mom’s familiar and how she’d always get sick after eating cheese, even though that didn’t stop her from demanding it. Someone else definitely needed some sleep too.

Dick stared at the cat, still trying to process what was going on here. He was used to strange things. His job description pretty much guaranteed that words like normal or mundane would never be staples in his day-to-day routine, but this? “Why is no one else concerned that the cat just spoke?”

“Drink your tea and go to bed, Dickie,” the cat said, getting up quickly to evade Tim’s clutching arms. “Better yet, lemme come with you. Tim hasn’t stopped tryin’ to give me milk since this happened.”

“But Jason! You didn’t tell me that it would make you sick. How was I supposed to know?”

“I did tell you! You just wouldn’t listen.”

The summoner and the warlock fell into their usual bickering and Dick relaxed enough to finally start his tea. How Jason got turned into a cat remained to be seen, but honestly, it wouldn’t be the first time one of Tim’s spells had backfired. The fact he’d be getting kitty cuddles in a few short minutes was a bonus.

[chibinightowl]

For the writing meme: Tim&Dami "The answer is always blood magic" I can just hear the tired/sarcastic/done/exasperated tone of voice either of them would use for that. Please and thank you. Also, it's a Dragon Age quote and I'm unable to pass it up.

Lookie what I got done tonight! Set in the same universe as How to Summon Me on a Monday Morning.

~*~*~

Damian scowls fiercely at Tim, his little face puckered up even worse than the time he was forced to admit Tim was right about something. That’s a good memory, but now is not the time for happy thoughts or pixie dust.

“You will undo this, Drake.”

“I’m trying, Damian,” Tim replies just as crossly, flipping through his spellbook. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not exactly thrilled about it either.”

“This is all your fault.”

Tim slams the book shut and glares at the boy. “You’re the one who went through my spellbook in the first place. Try again.”

For a brief moment, Damian has the grace to look shamefaced, his gaze dropping to the carefully sealed cardboard box at his feet. It’s hard to miss the protective symbols drawn on the lid and along each side of the box. There’s probably even symbols on the bottom. “I was trying to find something to help her.”

This is why Tim can’t be righteously furious at the young animagus. Damian is so in tune with the needs of animals that the family swears he’s more empath than mage. Thank the gods he is still too young to shape-shift.

“I know and that’s the only reason why I haven’t turned you into a toad.”

The now undead cat in the box lets out a ghastly hiss that manages to send chills down Tim’s spine. From the looks of it, Damian is spooked too.

Good.

Tim opens his book again and flips to the spell he’s fairly certain Damian tried on his own. It’s the only one that deals with raising the dead, although the spell on the next page is one he uses more often, which is banishing the magics used to raise the creatures. “Does this look familiar?”

Damian leans cautiously across the table, trying to avoid knocking into anything. “Yes, I believe so. I recall the part about this being a blood spell.”

Shaking his head, Tim grumbles under his breath. “The answer is always blood magic. Stupid half-hearted sacrifices.”

“What was that, Drake? I believe Pennyworth has stated more than once that you shouldn’t mumble.”

Tim glares. This is why he doesn’t live at home anymore, even if it does mean he has to cook and clean for himself. “When you’re performing necromancy, it’s the act of killing one creature and releasing their life energy that’s used primarily to fuel the spell to raise the undead. The greater the sacrifice, the more powerful the spell.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “What did you kill?”

Damian stands stiffly even as his dead cat howls again. This time, it doesn’t bother Tim so much. In fact, if he could get away with it, this would be a great way to scare away those pesky sales people who insist on knocking on his door all the time. How they manage to get past his wards, he hasn’t a clue.

“I didn’t kill anything,” the boy replies proudly.

“Then that’s why Athena is trying to eat you,” Tim retorts without missing a beat. “Did you really think you could raise the dead without sacrificing something?”

“I spilled over a third of a cup of my own blood.”

Tim frowns and tries really hard not to strangle Damian. There’s only one way to deal with this now. “No wonder she turned out like this. Give me the box.”

Damian stands protectively in front of it. “I will not let you hurt her.”

“The cat is dead, she won’t feel a thing,” Tim says. “You know this as well as I do, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

The kid sighs and looks away. They both pretend those aren’t tears he’s battling against in his eyes. “Fine,” Damian says after a moment. “Just…can I watch?”

Tim thinks about it briefly. It’s entirely possible the cat is possessed and if she is, then he’ll need Jason to help banish the demon, however minor it is. Summoner he may be, but he also has a surprising talent for holy magic. “Probably not,” he replies. “If she’s what I think she is now, I’ll need to call Jason and have him bring that flaming knife of his.” The one that burns blue from holy flames when in the presence of evil. Like in that one movie they like to watch and make fun of before moving on to more interesting things than wasting their time on a movie they’ve seen a million times already.

Damian shakes his head resolutely. “I’m the one who did this to Athena. I should see it through to the end.”

It’s a brave statement for a twelve year old boy but Tim rises from his work table to place a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to see this,” he says. “Remember her as the cat she was before.”

Not as the screaming doorstop he’s still half tempted to turn her into. Perhaps he can find a stuffed one online that he can reanimate. If anything, it would be an amusing way to spend Halloween and give the trick-or-treaters something to really scream about. He used to have a bird that would dive bomb unwanted visitors until Jason shot it.

Once again, they both pretend Damian isn’t crying when he turns his head away to stare at the wall and the gloomy bookcase full of arcane crap Tim inherited from his parents. Neither of them were exceptionally powerful in their craft but he makes up for that in spades.

“Okay,” Damian says in a small voice. “Will I be able to lay her to rest when you’re done?”

Tim nods. “I’ll make sure to save the all ashes for you.” All things considered, he feels he’s being a great big brother for not keeping some of the ashes aside for spell components. It would be well within his right to demand such and Damian knows it. “You should go now.”

Damian nods again and kneels in front of the now growling box. “I’m sorry, Athena. I should have known better. Farewell.”

The growling turns into a shriek as Damian leaves the room. Tim waits until he’s left the house before slipping on a pair of rune-stitched gardening gloves. He’ll need all the protection he can get.

Kneeling in front of the box, Tim carefully opens the lid. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

He slams it shut almost instantly as a malevolent aura fills the room. “Shit.”

Well then. Time to call his other half. Picking up his phone, he presses his second most used speed dial. “Hey, Jace…you won’t believe what Damian did this time…”

[chibinightowl]

A Tango Kind of Guy

This was actually my first attempt at an amnesia fic, but I decided it was too Dick-centric to work. Still, it’s a complete oneshot, so why not share it?

~*~*~

Dick held his hand over his mouth, trying very hard not to laugh. The situation, while serious, was just too completely and utterly ridiculous. Damian apparently agreed even if he didn’t see the point in hiding his obvious pleasure in watching the train wreck going on in front of them. “Richard, please tell me this isn’t happening.” 

“I wish I could, Dames. I wish I could.” Dick leaned back against the computer console and shook his head. Over in the med bay, Alfred and Bruce were still trying to wrangle two rather combative former Robins into the decontamination chamber. No one was entirely sure what had happened to them but he and Damian had found them wandering the streets together, dazed and confused and neither one quite willing to be separated from the other. 

They’d been on patrol together, that much was clear. Everything else...it was a work in progress.

Behind him, the computer chimed as Barbara opened a channel. “I have some good news and some bad news,” she announced. 

“Lay it on me.” Dick didn’t take his eyes off his younger brothers. 

“I cracked the security protocols on Jason’s helmet and accessed the video feed. He and Tim sprung what I think was an old trap of Dr. Crane’s. They got doused with some kind of gas.”

“I can understand how Timothy got gassed, but how on earth did Jason?” Damian asked, turning to gaze up at Barbara.

“Tim’s rebreather failed to work at all, so I suspect the filters in the hood did as well.”

Dick let out a low whistle. “Must be some pretty heavy duty stuff then, whatever it is.” 

“Agreed. I’ve already sent Steph and Cass out with hazmat gear to clean up the site. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s an airborne drug that has a short life span. You and Damian are feeling fine, right?”

“No more confused than usual,” Dick replied, which made Damian snort in amusement. 

“I too am fine,” the youngest boy added. 

The commotion in the medical bay finally quieted down and Bruce left Alfred to keep an eye on the two young men while he joined the others by the computer bank. He sat down heavily in his chair, the lines on his face more pronounced than usual. 

Dick gave him a moment to stew, knowing better than to prod right away. After the silence dragged on though, he spoke up. “Well? How are they?”

Bruce sighed, a clear sign the news wasn’t good. “Physically, they appear to be fine. Mentally...they don’t seem to remember much about anything at all.”

“It’s not as though they have that much brain capacity anyway,” Damian snipped, but Bruce held up his hand warningly, an indication he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. 

“Aside from some basic information about themselves, Jason and Tim don’t remember anything.” This time, the emphasis was clear as day. 

Dick drew a deep breath and looked back towards the med bay. He could just make out the two forms huddled in the decontamination chamber, both stripped down to nothing as they were cleansed of any physical traces of the chemical compound. No wonder they’d been combative out on the streets earlier. They hadn’t recognized him or Damian. They didn’t even know who they were or what was going on. “They must be so frightened,” he said softly. 

Bruce nodded. “I’ve dealt with Jason before when he’s been hit with fear gas. He’s hard enough to contain and calm down as it is. But Tim? That boy ought to have been an escape artist.” 

“Muscle memory,” Damian commented with a faint hint of admiration.  

“And desperation,” Bruce added. “They may not remember much but one thing is very clear...they’re still looking out for and are protecting each other. Whatever this compound is, it hasn’t taken that away from them.” 

“Good to know,” Dick said approvingly. “Just keep them together then and you’ll have less of a headache.” He hauled himself upright and fixed his mask back onto his face. “I think I’m going to take a little trip to Arkham to visit the good doctor and see if I can’t find out some more about this little mixture. Unless you need me here?” 

Bruce was already shaking his head. “No, I have blood samples to analyze and an antidote to synthesize. Damian, I want you to stay here and assist me. With Tim out of commission, it’s high time you put those organic chemistry lessons to good use.” 

The boy preened at the opportunity to prove himself. “Gladly, Father.” 

Up on the monitor, Barbara was already typing swiftly, her attention having shifted to a different monitor of her own. “Dick, I’m in Arkham’s mainframe. Whenever you’re ready, I can have you waltz in through the front gate.” 

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Dick quipped as he patted Damian on the shoulder, then headed down towards the garage. “I’m much more of a tango kind of guy.”