#bat sibling

[this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms]

Quarantine Shenanigans

Y/N standing in front of a camera: Hello and welcome to Jackass! Wayne Manor Edition. Today we have fruit ninja with Damian

Moving aside to reveal Damian with a sword:

Jason to the side with a basket of fruit:

Dick somewhere in the back: abSOLUTELY NOT

[crackspines]

The Replacement was five seconds away from earning a bullet in-between his ears.

It was going to happen in the middle of the Warehouse District in an industrial building with nothing but dirt, dust, and one couch from the 70s in the middle of the floor. On the far end of the building, there was a short man with a grey beard, shoes with bells on them, and a nightcap. Jason, crouched behind the couch, had followed the strangely dressed man all the way from uptown where he blew up a red sedan.

With, apparently, nothing but his mind.

As if on cue, an explosion sounded with a bang and a puff of smoke just three feet from where Jason took cover. Red Hood could hear the villain giggling as soon as his ears cleared.

“Oh, my mind’s a dangerous thing,” he said. “Oh, yes, you’ll find that it can do just about anything.”

Jason debated telling him that it wasn’t rhyming if you used the same word when Tim landed next to him.

“Get the hell out of here, Red,” Jason snarled as he took a shot from behind the decrepit couch.

“I thought you might want my help,” Red Robin said, eyes not leaving their opponent. He was all business, no emotion today.

Today and every other day of his life, Jason thought.

And just like every other day of Jason’s life, the sight of Tim Drake sent waves of rage, confusion, and the ever-present regret shooting through his body. It started at the toes and went all the way up to his head, coloring his ears under the helmet.

“Now we’re talking,” the villain screeched, looking hungrily at Jason. “Your desire: my command.”

That’s when everything went a bit pear-shaped. The very fabric of the reality in front of the boys--warehouse, dirt, couch--starts to shift and bulge like the contents of a lava lamp. Before Jason could reach for Tim and make a hasty retreat, the warehouse, Tim, and everything was gone. Instead, he stood in the dead center of the Wayne Manor kitchen, the smell of cookies baking invading his nose.

“What did you do,” he snarled, diving towards the small man with the strange outfit, still standing in front of him.

To Red Hood’s surprise, he went right through the pyrotechnic like he was made of nothing more than a dense fog. The momentum sent Jason crashing into the oak cabinets Alfred spent countless hours upkeeping. Or, it would’ve, if Jason himself hadn’t passed right through them, a spector just like the other man.

It was enough to rattle the vigilante.

“What did you do to me?” Jason got slowly to his feet, trying to grab various objects off the counter with no success. “I’m not dead. I know dead, and this isn’t it.”

“Of course you aren’t dead, silly,” he said. “Cupio wouldn’t grant that wish. It entirely lacks originality.”

Jason got a name for this particular crazy out of that little snippet, but the rest made absolutely no sense. What did wishes and originality have to do with the two of them, standing in a less-than-corporeal form in Wayne kitchen?

Before the Red Hood could question Cupio further or beat it out of him, Jason Todd walked through the kitchen door and everything just stopped.

The breath froze in Jason’s lungs as he watched himself, looking about the age he had when the Joker blew him to smithereens. The younger Jason laughed about something, turning back to look at the door as Alfred, looking just as old as every, and Bruce walked through. The latter held a large cake in his hands, fingers brushing against the frosting. Two candles shaped like a one and a six sat on the cake.

“You guys realize this is ridiculous, right?” Young-Jason asked, propping himself against the counter. “Normal kids don’t get a two-week vacation and a gala-sized party for their birthday.”

“Turning sixteen is special, Master Jason. You’re on the cusp of adulthood,” Alfred said as he directed Bruce towards the proper spot to drop the multiple layered cake.

“Besides,” Bruce said, sucking the frosting off his fingers. “Dick can’t disappear from San Francisco for two weeks. This party is more for him than you.”

“Master Richard would feel neglectful in his duties as your big brother if he didn’t get to make a big fuss about your birthday,” Alfred agreed.

All three of them continued to talk about party arrangements and packing as they walked back through the oak door, voices fading down the hallway. The older Jason Todd looked on, eyes wide and feeling like his chest was on fire from heart-ache and holding his breath.

None of it made any sense. Jason died at fifteen. This wasn’t his past, so what was he looking at?

“Getting it now?” Cupio asked.

“No, you freak,” Jason growled. “Whatever this is...fix it.”

Wagging a finger at the enraged superhero, Cupio said, “But I just have! Don’t you recognize your own deepest, darkest desires when they’re looking you back in the face?”

“I….” That brought Jason up short.

“Guess I’ll have to spoon feed it to you, then.” And then Cupio snapped his fingers, and the kitchen fell away, leaving them standing on a rooftop, the night dark around them.

Sirens sounded in the distance, and Jason could smell a faint air of chemicals and city musk in the air. A drunk below them danced around in the street, singing merrily and only stopping to take a couple more swigs from a hidden flask.

If Jason needed any more verification that they were still in Gotham, Batman, Robin, and Nightwing chose that moment to swing by. Batman hung by as Young-Jason, now in uniform, whooped and raced his older brother.

“Not a bad way to say good-bye to fifteen, huh, Robin?” Nightwing said, the air stealing the world before anyone besides the superhero party and their invisible voyeurs could hear.

“Better than wearing a monkey suit and dancing around to Alfred’s classical music!” Robin shouted, cutting off Nightwing and landing on a rooftop just past where Jason was standing.

“Focus, you two,” Batman said, his voice as gruff as Jason remembered it. But underneath the coarseness, there was a spark of humor and affection. Hearing it made Jason want to hit something. Or maybe just sit down for a little while.

Turning back towards Cupio, Red Hood said, “This can’t be real.”

“Oh, but it is,” he said. “One snap of these fingers, and you never went to Ethiopia. You and Bruce were never separated. Your family is whole, and you get to be Robin again.”

“Sounds nice and simple,” Jason said mockingly. “If this really is my second chance, why am I floating around like Ebenezer Scrooge?”

“I’m a nice guy, Jason.” He shrugged. “I’m giving you a taste. Say the word, and I’ll shove your consciousness back into your 16-year-old body.”

Jason knew it wasn’t real, that it couldn’t last. The universe didn’t just give second chances like this--real second chances, not like the dip in the Lazarus pit Jason received. That was one gift he wished he could return to sender.

Still, he couldn’t help but watch the dynamic trio hungrily as they settled in for what looked like a surveillance job. Batman put a casual, fatherly hand on Robin’s shoulder, and a couple of roofs over, a shudder went through Jason’s body.

“Yep, almost everyone’s a lot better off without you dead. Batman never has to lose a son and cut himself off emotionally. Dick gets the chance to be a good big brother with you, his original little wing. Alfred, poor man, will probably live an additional ten years without the stress and grief of having to bury you.”  

Part of Jason took issue with Cupio’s condescending tone. The other-- “Almost everyone?”

An arched eyebrow. “There are always casualties in war. You should know; you’re one of them.”

A harsh, Gotham breeze blew past them, and Jason crossed his arms over his chest. Cupio rolled his eyes.

“Wanna read the fine print? Have it your way.”

Before Jason could stop him, the villain snapped those unholy fingers, and the world lurched again. This time, they only moved a few rooftops over, but the shift still sent Jason’s stomach into a fit. He reached out, resting against a rough, worn brick wall while panting and trying not to lose his cheeseburger dinner.

“Man, you’ve got to stop doing that,” Jason said, regaining his composure.

Cupio said nothing, just whistled cheerfully. This gave Jason enough time to inspect his surroundings. The rooftop was just like many others in Gotham. Cigarettes and other, less pleasant, trash, littered the corners. There was an entrance to the building below that was so rusted, Jason doubted it’d been used in this millennia.

It wasn’t until the vigilante saw all these things that he finally noticed the small boy crouched in the dark, watching Batman and Robin with a kind of rapture that was all too familiar.

“What the hell?” Jason muttered, walking closely to the edge of the roof where the boy was tucked.

Dark hair, fair skin, and blue eyes made the little boy very distinctive. And Jason did mean “little.” He couldn’t have been more than twelve-years-old. Much too young to be wandering around Gotham’s seething underbelly with nothing more than an expensive camera wrapped around his neck and a tiny notebook in his pocket.

The boy snapped a few pictures of the superheroes, and then studious scribbled on an unused page in his notebook. The writing was extremely detail-oriented, and it was a little creepy coming from a little kid. This was detective’s work, not just the ramblings of a fanboy turned stalker.

As soon as that thought faded out of his mind, the boy’s features finally became familiar, and Jason breathed in sharply through his nose.

“This can’t be--”

“Timothy Drake? Future robin? Your replacement?” Cupio said gleefully. He tapped a finger to his chin. “Though I guess he’s just Timothy Drake now.”

“Haha, very funny,” Jason said. “I get it. Little Timmy never gets to replace me as Robin. Very sad. I’m sure his parents can buy him a new dream.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

But there was something in his voice that Jason didn’t like. It was a little too bland and a little too smug. “What else?”

That seemed to surprise Cupio. “I’m giving you an out here, kid. Take the plausible deniability.”  

“I want to see it all.”

Those words caused Jason to witness the most pathetic day he had ever seen. When little Timmy was done spying on his heroes, they followed him back to the Drake Estate, watching as he climbed up a moss-covered wall and into his bedroom window.

Jason scoffed. “Where are his parents?”

“Out of the country for the next month. They’ll be back for the next Drake charity ball.”

He didn’t know quite what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut.

Settling into his role as a spectator, he watched Tim Drake wake up after a few hours and eat breakfast by himself at a table seated for twelve. The small boy then grabbed his book bag and walked to the nearest bus stop, head turned down and gazing at his notes from last night. Not even the sudden lurches of the bus and the patrons could drag the boy’s attention away.

Though the Tim Jason knew was quite the know-it-all, little Timmy didn’t raise his hand once during class, staring hard at one of the many books he had stashed in his bag. While in the halls, he didn’t stop to talk to any friends. When a couple of bigger boys shoved him out of their way and into a locker, he didn’t so much as make eye contact.

When Tim got home that afternoon, there was a message waiting for him on the answering machine. Letting his bag slide to the floor, he pushed a couple of buttons until his mother’s voice could be heard.

“Timothy, our trip has been extended a couple of weeks. Mrs. Mac will come by a couple of times during the week to clean and restock the pantry. Don’t forget to keep up with your studies.”

There was a click, and then silence in the room. Then, to Jason’s surprise, Tim plays the recording again. And again. And again. Just when Jason thinks his ears are about to bleed, Tim hit the save button and heads up the stairs to his room.

Before turning off his night-light, the boy shrugs into too-big pajamas and fishes something from underneath his pillow. For a moment, Jason thinks it’s a worn and torn piece of paper. Maybe his algebra notes, but when he gets closer, he realizes the kid is staring at a photograph. One of Batman and Robin.

Both heroes are sitting atop a building in downtown Gotham, legs hanging over the side. Jason remembers the moment. He’s animatedly telling Bruce about this project he’s been assigned in history class, and his adoptive father is smiling, hanging on his every word.

Tim smoothes a hand over the crinkled picture and then slides it back under his pillow.

“Ok,” Jason said to Cupio, anger threaded through his voice. “I’ve seen enough. This is just pathetic.”

To the vigilante’s great surprise, the kid on the bed jumps a mile, eyes going wide and darting around the room. “Is… is someone there?”

Jason whirled around on Cupio. His boots probably would have scuffed the hardwood, if he’d been corporeal. “I thought they couldn’t hear us?”

“Seemed like you wanted a more interactive experience.”

The next moment, Jason was a solid as he could ever remember being. Running a hand down his body, he could feel the stiffness of the leather under the pads of his fingers.

When he looked up from himself, little Timmy’s wide eyes were training on him. The kid looked like he was about to keel over. Raising his hands in the universal sign for “I come in peace,” Jason said, “Er, you probably don’t know who I am, but I swear I’m not here to hurt you.”

Before he had even finished his sentence, the little urchin was out of bed and standing right in front of him. “Of course I know who you are! You’re Robin!” A little shadow fell over his small features. “Oops.”

“Yeah, oops,” Jason said, but he was smiling despite himself.

The answering smile Tim gave him was timid. “You look different, though. Older. Are you from the future?”

Yeah, Jason was definitely starting to see how little Timmy would turn into the Red Robin he knew and resented.

“Kind of,” the older man said. “It’s kind of just...a glance...at a possible outcome.”

Little Timmy cocked his head, and Jason sighed. “I guess I’m getting to choose to be Robin or...not,” he said.

“But you have to be Robin,” Timmy cried, and the outburst startled his quasi older brother. “You’re a hero!” A blush rose in his cheeks. “You’re my hero.”

Maybe it was horrible of him, but at that moment, Jason had never hated Tim more.

“Okay, okay,” Jason said, herding the boy back into his bed. “That’s enough excitement for one night.”

He pulled the covers up over Timmy’s body, and the boy stared and him with unblinking eyes. “You’re not gonna give up Robin, right?”

Instead of answering, he looked back at where Cupio was standing, hidden from the child’s view. “A little help here.”

The other man snapped his fingers wordlessly. Instead of changing locals, Timmy’s head fell against his plush, expensive pillows, and his breathing evened out.

When Jason stood up from the bed, Cupio let out a low whistle. “That was rough. Told you to leave well enough alone.”

Barely feeling his head thunk back against the drywall in the bedroom, Jason let out a breath. He still wanted it. More than anything. He wanted to feel like he had a family again. He wanted all the mistakes of his past to be erased. More than anything, he wanted to go home to Bruce.

And that was fair, wasn’t it? One mistake and he has to pay for it for the rest of his life? Maybe he’s paid enough, given enough. He’s earned this one little chunk of happiness.

“How about this,” Cupio said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ll shove you back in your sixteen-year-old body without any memories of this little exercise. You’ll never meet Tim Drake. The only timeline you’ll know is the one you’ll make after tonight.”

So easy. Like the universe was actually giving him a real second chance. All he had to do was take it.

Feeling like his heart was being put through a blender, he gave Cupio his answer. The other man smiled and snapped his fingers a final time and then everything around Jason disappeared.

<center>_____</center>

“Jason?” A familiar voice said, worry laced through every letter. “Jason, wake up.”

The Red Hood opened his eyes and stared up at Tim Drake. The teenager fluttered over him, checking vitals and trying to get a straight answer out of the other man. Both were caked in dirt and dust from the warehouse floor.

“You just disappeared for a moment,” Red Robin said. “The villain too. Did he teleport you somewhere? Are you hurt?”

“Teleport,” Jason croaked, his throat feeling like he’d gone a week without water. “He gone?”

Red Robin nodded, handing him a flask with electrolyte infused water inside. Jason took it gratefully.

“Where did he take you?”

Swallowing down the rest of the water, Jason shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m just glad to be back.” Then, to Tim Drake’s immense surprise, Jason Todd smiled at him, eye crinkling behind his domino mask. “This is where I belong.”

Read more of my stuff here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackspines/pseuds/crackspines