Fic Submission - Kid's Had It Coming (Jason's Version) by @hyacinthanon
LMAO I made an @/ hyacinthanon sideblog because I Forgor you can't submit posts from other urls asksksfhgkd f ANYWAYS!! All that to say, I come bearing a slightly-late holiday gift that's a Jason POV to KHIC. LITERALLY NO PRESSURE to post anything anytime soon ok this is a GIFT for YOU, I'm a cat at the door with a bird.
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Jason hadn’t expected his ACL surgery and ensuing gauntlet of physical therapy to turn into a vehicle for bonding with his younger brother, but life had a way of lobbing curveballs like that – mostly to Jason, who was starting to feel trapped in a batting cage with no bat and an endless stream of wild pitches, but that was neither here nor there.
(Get it? Batting cage? He was saving that one for later, it would have Dick in stitches.)
The appointments were early in the morning. That had partially been intentional, to give Jason as much discretion as possible since he was going to an established clinic rather than having home visits. But they were still way too fucking early, and dragging himself out of bed felt like reanimating his own corpse. (And he would know about that.)
But then Timmy had showed up on day one, two-thirds of the way asleep in the kitchen, and mumbled something to Jason about a ride to school and extra time to catch up on homework, and Jason had been caught off guard long enough to say yes. It was a week after their little TV-related spat and Jason was biding his time, waiting for the chance to dish out some payback as soon as his leg could stand some actual wrestling. He couldn’t let Tim think he had the upper hand for too long, after all.
In the meantime, letting him tag along to Jason’s appointment to finish his homework before school didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. The sleepy, blinking eyes and bedraggled hair didn’t hurt his cause, either. He’d looked like a ruffled little duckling. As Tim dozed off in the passenger seat of the SUV (and yes, Jason was driving himself, he wasn’t a total invalid, no matter what Bruce said), curled up on his side with the sleeves of his sweatshirt pulled over his hands and the hood tightly cinched around his face, Jason privately wondered how Bruce had ever managed to tell Tim no about anything.
By the time Jason was done working through a series of stretches that had to have been sourced from medieval torture chambers, Jason had realized that he was starving. So, he’d dragged the kid along to breakfast and coffee at the diner across the street.
Tim hadn’t been verbal until after his second coffee and third pancake, but when he finally remembered how to put words to sound, he kept up a bearable stream of chatter about books he was reading, the computer he was assembling in his rare pockets of free time, and a dozen other topics. Not once did he ask Jason probing medical questions, and Jason appreciated the reprieve. He got enough of that from Bruce, Alfred, and Dick. They were all lucky he wasn’t agile enough yet to throw them out of the room next time they came in asking about muscle recovery and protein intake.
Over the next couple weeks, Jason and Tim settled into a predictable routine. And Tim gradually opened up more – not that they were having any heart to hearts, that was Dick’s territory and his alone – but Tim started to grow more comfortable teasing Jason in public, shooting off snark now and then and calling him vintage. Jason, in turn, found himself ruffling the kid’s hair and giving back just as much sarcasm, snark, and lip as he got. One memorable morning, Tim had rolled his eyes at Jason and muttered something about the wonders of his generation’s music being lost on vintage crime lords, to which Jason rightfully responded by flicking him in the forehead, to which Tim then retaliated by jabbing Jason in the side just hard enough that he flinched.
Tim’s grin had been devious, at first, then hesitant.
“Oh, don’t worry, birdie,” Jason had promised as he picked up the carafe to refill Tim’s coffee mug. “We’ll settle the score soon.”
That just made Tim roll his eyes again, flushing faintly. “Sure, sure, Jason. Whatever you say.”
“Hey, don’t bite the hand that feeds you, dumbass. Or the one that pours you coffee.”
“Bite? I would never.”
And because Tim was a goddamned liar, a few days later, when Jason found him training in the Cave, the little shit bit him on the forearm.
Jason jerked back in with a very intimidating sound of surprise that may, to the untrained ear, have sounded like a yelp. “Fuck! What are you, a rat?”
But he’d made a critical mistake in allowing himself to flinch because Tim was already moving, surging forward through his slackened grip and throwing himself into a dead sprint.
Jason shouted after him and immediately gave chase. His knee twinged - more tender than uncomfortable - but that didn’t stop him from pursuing the Robin-brat. Sparks of anticipation fizzed in his chest as he leapt forward, his longer legs allowing him to close the distance in seconds.
Entirely focused on catching up to his speedy little brother, Jason hadn’t noticed where they were headed until Tim loosed a shout that bounced off the cave walls. “BRUCE!”
A frisson of dread shot down Jason’s spine. Depending on the old man’s mood, Jason could very well end up being the one brought down and tickled within an inch of his sanity depending on how Tim played this. Fuck.
“Oh, you little shit!” he growled.
And Tim must have been a goddamn roadrunner in another life, because he suddenly poured on the speed and hurtled towards where Bruce was still glued to his chair in front of the desk. Jason cursed again as his leg twinged. He tried to lengthen his stride and made a last, desperate lunge, reaching for Tim’s sweatshirt.
Tim’s laughter bounced off the cave walls as he flung himself at B. “You’ve gotta save me,” he gasped out as Jason’s fingers managed to graze the back of his hoodie.
Bruce, who’d turned around as soon as he’d heard his name shouted, stared at Tim with a mixture of concern and surprise as the slippery little brat crash-landed on his lap. Before Bruce could blink, Tim was already up again, diligently clambering over the back of his chair to squeeze between it and the desk, effectively turning Batman himself into a human shield.
It would be hard enough taking Bruce with two functional legs so, hoping to press his advantage in the face of Bruce’s confusion, Jason slowed to a stop a few feet away. He pinned Tim with a glare. Tim just gave him a wide, cheeky smile and waved.
“Jason?” Bruce might have seemed confused, but the undercurrents of amusement in his voice made Jason think he had a pretty good idea of what was going on.
(Tim was playing, that’s what was going on. He was goofing off. Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the kid do that before, and that thought that made something twist in his stomach that immediately got pushed aside for later.)
So Jason played up his irritation, huffing and crossing his arms. “Timbit’s chickening out of some well-deserved payback for–” No, shit, not for anything. Just payback. There was a slight chance Bruce hadn’t been made aware of the couch incident –
The grin Tim gave him wasn’t quite shit-eating, but it was in the same zipcode. “Because I tickled him,” he said brightly, plastering on the most angelic smile Jason had ever seen. “Back when he was all drugged up and high and irritating.”
Oh, Jason was going to make him regret every single syllable. He felt his face heat up, the tips of his ears warming. He did not look at Bruce. “I was high.”
“It was, like, maybe an oxy five.”
“It was Percoset,” Bruce interjected in his ‘I know this is going to devolve into an argument’ voice. “And–” he shot Jason a sideways look, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “I already knew about that, Dick sent me pictures of the aftermath.”
Maybe if Jason stared at the floor long enough it would swallow him whole. But, knowing his luck, he’d probably fall into a pit of bat shit. He felt his face keep heating up even as he gestured at Tim, trying to redirect Bruce’s attention. “‘Kay. So you know, then, that I’ve gotta do this. Kid’s had it coming.”
Fairness. Proportional retaliation. Batman would surely understand these concepts.
Bruce made a thoughtful hum and shifted around in his chair. He straightened up, tapping his fingers against his chin as though he wasn’t poised for movement. Jason had to force himself to keep his hands still so he wouldn’t fidget, the last thing he needed was to draw Bruce’s attention . . . back before it all, Bruce hadn’t joined in Dick and Jason’s skirmishes often, but when he did, he was absolutely ruthless. Jason’s skin crawled at just the memory; he didn’t know if he’d survive a second time.
Tim wasn’t faring much better. Even if he’d been trying to fight it off, a giddy, wobbly grin tugged at his mouth. He’d wrapped his arms around himself, hanging on every word between Jason and Bruce as if he was having the time of his life. “I do not,” the kid sputtered. “Besides, you don’t want to disturb Bruce, right?”
Since when had Jason ever let that stop him? He voiced that thought as Bruce assured Tim that, no, he wouldn’t be disturbed.
Tim squirmed where he stood, almost giddy. “Don’t let him.”
Jason had heard more convincing protests from crooked politicians.
Then, almost faster than Jason could see, Bruce winked at him. But before Jason could respond or fully process that, Bruce swiveled around to look at Tim, his shoulders slumping as he leaned forward.
“Let him what, Tim?” Bruce was using his concerned voice, the gentle one that came out when Batman was trying not to spook victims. It seemed to throw Tim’s train of thought off its tracks because –
“Tickle me,” Tim blurted. Well played, B.
For his part, Tim immediately realized that he’d been conned, and his face went scarlet. “I– I mean, he’s going to.”
Hell yeah, I am. Jason took another slow, menacing step forward and flicked his eyebrows up in Bruce’s direction.. “Well, B, he did ask.”
“That he did,” Bruce agreed, solemn and grave. “To the mats?”
As Tim squawked out another token protest, Jason pivoted on the heel of his good leg back towards the training area, grinning. “If you can make it, old man.”
Tim kept up his spluttering all the way over, even when Bruce slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t also been squirming around in nervous, giggly anticipation the entire time, even after Bruce had swung him down to the mat and pinned his arms above his head.
“Bruce–” aw, he was trying so hard not to laugh, “ –I’ll go to the board meeting next month, I’ll do your taxes–”
The image of Tim hunched over pages and pages of spreadsheets, taking Bruce to task for his company’s spending and tax returns, made Jason’s mouth twitch against a grin. He managed to turn it into something of a feral smile which, when he caught Tim’s gaze, made the Baby Bird’s eyes widen.
“Those are generous offers, lad, but I think I’m all set here,” Bruce replied. His eyes crinkled when he smiled down at Tim, who managed to give him a sheepish-looking grin.
Drawing out the game – letting Tim protest and wriggle around like a worm on a fishhook – had accomplished something very important: Jason knew what he was going to do, how he was going to frame what was still absolutely righteous sibling payback for the unexpected audience. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together like every overblown, exaggerated villain ever, and smirked down at his little brother.
“Well, Timmy, how long d’ya think it’s been since Bruce tickled you? I think he could use a refresher.”
Somehow, Tim’s eyes widened even more. He squeaked and frantically shook his head.
“No?” Jason felt himself smiling wider. “Too bad, kiddie. I’m balancing the scales.”
In a sudden burst of bravery, Tim craned his head up and smirked right back at him. “You look like a Temu-brand sleep paralysis hallucination.”
Ah, there was that classic Robin inability to hold back a quip in the face of imminent danger.
“Yeah, that’s about what I expected.” Jason just plopped himself down on Tim’s legs and laced his fingers together, pushing his hands outwards to stretch them out. He shook his wrists out – Tim’s eyes tracked his fingers the whole time – and shot a quick look of confirmation at Bruce. “Alright, Baby Bird, we’re going to remind Bruce just how to getcha shrieking and cheeping, yeah?”
“No,” Tim growled, his brow furrowing rather adorably. But something glinted in his pale blue eyes that looked almost like delight.
“Okay, Jaylad, I’m paying attention,” Bruce said, looking at Jason with the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “Where to start?”
Ah, he was playing along. Unexpected, but Jason knew better than to look that particular gift horse in the mouth.
Just to play it up a little more, Jason tapped his fingers to his chin in a blatant imitation of Bruce’s earlier posture, because he couldn’t help taking the occasional potshot at Batman. From the way Bruce rolled his eyes, he seemed to realize he was being mocked. “Well, there are two main ways to tickle him. The first–”
With no warning, he struck, darting his hands into Tim’s upper ribs and squeezing rapidly. It was one of Tim’s most ticklish spots and that, combined with the element of surprise, had Tim shrieking out a laugh and immediately dissolving into loud, happy cackles. His legs strained under Jason, trying to kick out or knock him off.
“To teach him a lesson,” Jason explained. Like what happens when he tries to turn the tables and attack me. “Or get information out of him. You gotta go straight for the kill, which is always going to be his upper ribs, especially towards the back.” As he spoke, Jason let his fingers travel around to the backs of Tim’s ribs and wiggle into the soft spaces between them.
Tim screeched again, his eyes scrunched shut, as he squirmed and jerked and generally tried to do anything to get away from Jason’s hands. “Jaha–Jase!” Peals of laughter cut him off from saying anything else.
Jason realized his face was a little sore from grinning as he stared at his wriggly little brother. “Hush, Timmy, B needs to be able to hear.”
“Asshole!”
Oi. “Just for that–” Jason moved to the very top of Tim’s rib cage, crawling up under his arms. That had Tim squealing and frantically shaking his head, which was making his hair stick up in all directions.
“And what kind of information would you suggest asking for?” Bruce asked. He was putting on a mild tone of voice dangerously similar to Brucie, which made Jason snort.
“Oh, the usual.” Easing up a few degrees, Jason rested his hands on Tim’s sides so the kid could catch his breath. “When he last slept, for how long, how much Zesti he’s had, making him submit entries to that new photography gallery’s contest. When his last meal was.”
Bruce’s eyebrows briefly flicked up in surprise, but the warmth in his gaze was suddenly much more tangible when he smiled at Jason. “Ah. That’s a very creative solution, Jay, good job.”
“Thank you.” Jason pulled out his old high school thespian training and sent Bruce the largest grin he could muster, exaggerating for Tim’s benefit and to hide how relieved the genuineness behind the compliment made him feel. “It’s about time someone around here appreciated my efforts.”
Flushed from laughing and from being on the receiving end of their teasing, Tim groaned as they conversed above him. A single pulse of Jason’s fingers against his sides, though, made him clamp his mouth shut on a squeak.
“The other way to tickle him,” Jason began, leaning forward like he was about to reveal a highly confidential piece of information. When Tim’s blue gaze fastened on his, Jason winked, then looked up at Bruce. “Is to start with this.”
And he squeezed Tim’s sides once, then immediately scrabbled his fingers all over Tim’s stomach in wide, wandering circles that slowly zeroed in on his belly button.
Tim flung his head back into the mat and laughed, bright and loud, and the wide, helpless grin on his face made him look, for once, like a kid. He probably couldn’t help the thrashing, but his legs kicked out anyways and he strained against Bruce’s grip on his wrists. “Jay!”
“It’s a good warm-up,” Jason said, ignoring him. “What you’re going to do next, though…”
Tim sucked in a gasp when Jason moved closer, skittering the pads of his fingers over the twin spots right underneath his belly button. Any hope of holding back his laughter died when Tim collapsed into a heap of panicked giggles. He pressed his head back further into the mat and scrunched his shoulders up.
“Jahahas–Jason! Nahahaha!”
Those giggles really were the cutest damn thing in all of Gotham, but Jason would rather die than admit that in front of Bruce. Who, speaking of which, was staring down at his youngest kid with the sappy gaze of an adoring father. Yeah, yeah, Timmy was fuckin’ adorable when he let himself relax a bit.
“Dick calls this his giggle spot,” Jason said. “He has another name for it too, right, Timberlina?”
Blushing furiously, Tim tossed his head from side to side, his nose scrunching up as he snorted. “No! Dohohon’t tehehell hi-heek!-him!”
“Why ever not, TimTac?”
“It’s – it’s embarahahasing!”
It was actually adorable, but Jason hadn’t set out to be cruel, so he didn’t push. Apparently only Dick was allowed to tease Tim about that one without the kid exploding into flames.
“I see,” Bruce replied dryly, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ll pretend I don’t know exactly what Dick means whenever he leaves conversations in search of . . . Timmy Tum–”
“B!” Tim shrieked in utter mortification.
Bruce gave a low, gentle laugh and also decided not to push. Instead, he reached forward to brush Tim’s floppy bangs out of his eyes. Tim craned his head towards the touch even as Jason switched to rapid scritches that sent a new wave of giggles bubbling out of him.
“What’s this method for, Jay?” asked Bruce, who ran his fingers through Tim’s hair before readjusting his hold on both of Tim’s arms. It looked like Tim hadn’t even noticed he’d momentarily had a free wrist. Well, that much giggling and snorting had to be distracting.
“Helps tire him out if he needs to sleep, or if his brain’s moving too fast. Instead of screeching and kicking, he’s all giggly and squishy.”
“Hey –!” Tim made a valiant effort to glower, but his face didn’t seem to want to cooperate.
Jason slowed the speed of his tickling – light tickles made Tim’s laughter turn a little hiccupy. “So, this is also useful if he’s being an annoying little bitch.” Makes for excellent revenge, too. “In that case, your best recourse –”
It was time to move. Jason swiftly adjusted his pose and shoved Tim’s wrinkled shirt a little farther up his stomach.
Tim’s eyes widened as he realized what was coming and his face scrunched up in a panicked grin even though he was frantically shaking his head. “Jay!” Oh, he was squeaking. “Jay – JayJayJay–”
Some soft, squishy thing in Jason’s chest melted as he listened to Tim practically cheep out part of his name – Baby Bird, indeed – through the stray snickers that kept that wide, goofy grin on his face. Jason tilted his head enough to catch Tim’s eye, then winked at him. “That’s my name. Don’t wear it out, Timbit.”
Then he ducked his head to blow a raspberry on one of those hilariously ticklish spots, and Tim shrieked, squirming with enough ferocity that Jason had to shift his weight to avoid being jostled. Damn, the kid was getting strong.
Jason repeated the action several more times, grinning to himself as his baby brother turned into a squeaky toy. All the hiccupy giggles pouring out of Tim made B chuckle, too, and when Jason looked up to check on Tim, he caught a soft, amused smile from Bruce and rolled his eyes. Obviously it was cute, but B should be looking at Tim like that, not Jason.
“Jason,” Tim finally gasped out through another giggle fit. “It – it tihihickles!” He raised his head just enough for Jason to see wide, watery blue eyes blinking down at him.
Well, that certainly brought all of Jason’s squishy, older-brother-schmoopiness right back to the surface, soundly banishing any discomfort he’d felt under Bruce’s gaze.
He smirked up at Tim in an effort to claw back some of his menacing posturing. “Yeah, Baby Bird, that’s the point.”
Tim’s face flushed even darker as he tugged on his arms again, trying to shrug his shoulders up and twist his head around to hide behind one of his biceps.
Well, that wouldn’t do. If Tim hadn’t allowed Jason to hide back when he’d attacked him on the couch a couple weeks ago, absolutely unprovoked with no reason whatsoever, then Jason couldn’t just stand by and let Tim try and hide now.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Jason said, as he pushed up and reached out to lightly flutter his fingers against the exposed side of Tim’s neck.
Tim’s eyes shot to him but he sealed his lips together and tried to shake Jason’s hand off. But Jason just moved down to the ridge of his collarbone, gently scritching along just underneath Tim’s shirt collar. That got a couple snorts and snickers out of the kid, who abandoned his hiding efforts for the sake of trying to scrunch his shoulders up far enough to protect his neck.
“See,” Jason said to Bruce, looking up at him. “Dickhead just revels in physical affection, but Timbo’s a burrowing little gremlin and he’ll smash his face into the carpet or couch cushions to hide if given the chance. Don’t let him.” And, since visual learning was important, Jason demonstrated this point by darting back up to scribble at the right side of Tim’s neck, which made Tim yelp and immediately try to bury his face in his arm again.
“He thinks it will hide him from the teasing.” Jason slid one of his hands down to squeeze at Tim’s side, just to keep the kid on his toes.
Bruce had that strained look that he got when he was trying not to smile – it was almost a neutral expression, but the corners of his mouth pulled taut. Eyes sparkling in amusement, he met Jason’s gaze and nodded once, acknowledging the information.
“I do not!” Tim protested, his flushed cheeks scrunching up even more. He probably would’ve looked offended if he wasn’t trying to wriggle away from the fingers that were prodding at his side. “Youhou – yohohou hide too–”
Rude. Just for that, Jason shot his hands up into Tim’s armpits.
“–, in your ahaHAHARMS JASON!”
Jason dug in, furiously scrabbling away as Tim let out a bright, wild belly laugh and tugged at Bruce’s grip on his wrists again.
“That seems like a good spot,” Bruce said mildly. “Is that the worst?” As if he wasn’t already aware that it was not, in fact, Tim’s worst spot. But he was playing along to give Jason another opening, so Jason smirked up at him, then flicked his gaze back to Tim, who was chewing on his lower lip in giggly anticipation.
“Not at all. I think his worst spot is here,” Jason replied. He let his hands drift downwards to Tim’s very top ribs.
“Heknowsalready!” Tim shrieked, the words running together as he squeezed his eyes shut like that would make a difference. He jerked back and forth in sharp, spasmodic movements, as if trying to somehow move his ribcage away from Jason’s touch. “B – B, come on!”
Bruce just flashed a fond smile down at him, then turned his attention to Jason. “Where, exactly, Jason? I could have been mistaken, after all.”
Tim’s wail of betrayal went ignored, even though Jason had to bite back a chuckle at the sheer indignance on the kid’s face. As if Tim had any right
Instead of wriggling his fingers into the spaces between them or poking at each individual rib, Jason used both of his index fingers to drill into matching spots on each side of Tim’s very top ribs. That was enough to launch Tim into open hysterics, the kid screeched until he ran out of breath, then sucked enough air into his lungs just for it to tear right back out in explosive, near-breathless cackles. When those trailed off into wheezes and Tim went limp against the mat, Jason tapered off his targeting of those ribs and switched to scattering pinches down the rest of Tim’s sides, just enough to elicit the occasional squeaky giggle as Tim caught his breath.
“See, B?” Jason said, shooting another quick look at Bruce. “He cheeps! Just like a tiny little hatchling.”
“I dohoho–eerp! – nahahat!” Tim tried to protest, immediately proving himself wrong in the process when Jason tweaked his lower ribs. He flinched, made a sound like a newborn kitten, and went crimson.
Bruce chuckled – Jason caught his eye and, after a moment, let himself grin too.
“It’s very sweet,” Bruce murmured, and Jason could just sense Tim’s overwhelming desire to flip over and bury his face in the mat, probably feeling overloaded with all kinds of oh-my-god-dad’s-embarrassing-me feelings…
Which Jason was happy to make worse – payback, and all that. “See that, Timmy?” he teased, and Tim gave him what passed for a suspicious look. “You’re adorable.”
Tim just groaned and rolled his eyes, but didn’t quite succeed in hiding a faint, sheepish grin.
“Okay,” Jason continued, snagging Bruce’s attention again. “Let the record show that this isn’t all of the kid’s ticklish spots, but he’s almost purple and I like having a minion to bully into watching TV with me. So, pay attention, old man, this is the last thing for today’s lesson.”
Bruce gave him an indulgent look. “Oh, don’t worry, Jay, I’m watching.” A faint smile tugged his lips. “Besides, we can always have multiple sessions.”
That got another groan from Tim, who had elected to close his eyes again in lieu of being able to burrow into the nearest surface.
Jason scooted his knees back and leaned forward, picking out a spot on Tim’s very lowest ribs this time, near his side. A final raspberry there made Tim scream out something barely resembling a laugh as he tried to arch away from Jason before collapsing down, breathing hard. “That’s his kill switch,” Jason explained for Bruce’s benefit. “He’ll promise you whatever you want.”
The muscles in Tim’s face twitched like he was trying to glare again.
Jason just raised his eyebrows at him. “And, for good measure–” He gave Tim one more raspberry on his stomach, earning one more peal of frantic, bubbly giggles as Tim craned his head back towards Bruce.
“D-Dahahahad! Dad, sahave mehehee!” Tim gasped.
The grinding halt of the gears in Bruce’s brain was nearly audible as the man blinked – which, for Batman, was the same as jumping two feet in the air – then looked at Tim with the blindingly mushy affection that always seeped into his face when one of them called him Dad.
Any other time, Jason would’ve teased him about it, and he wasn’t – he wasn’t going soft, but his heart may have warmed a whole degree at the happy, half-dazed gleam in his baby brother’s eyes when he sent B a pleading look, half delirious with laughter.
But Jason couldn’t resist putting on his best ESPN commentator voice and saying, “Oh, Timmy’s pulling out the Dad Card. He must be getting desperate to go for that one, B.” He did back off, though, gently patting Tim’s stomach a couple times. Even that made the baby bird twitch, and when Jason heaved himself to his feet despite the twinge of discomfort in his left leg, Tim immediately flung himself onto his front and pillowed his face in his arms. Definitely a burrowing gremlin.
While Tim caught his breath on the floor, Jason started moving through one of the stretches from his physical therapist. His knee was definitely still swollen, even though he’d nearly regained its full range of motion. And, though he’d almost caught Tim during their earlier game of chase, he was paying the price for the burst of running now. Pit-enhanced physiology or not, torn ligaments were still torn ligaments.
Tim mumbled something unintelligible that made Bruce chuckle, but Jason tuned out his reply in favor of reaching down to – well, to come so fucking close to touching his toes but not quite making it. Because of the surgery and his healing leg. Not because he normally couldn’t. That would be the kind of secret Jason would take to his grave lest his acrobat older brother find out. Yeah. He straightened up, laced his fingers together, and stretched his arms over his head in a satisfying arc that loosened the tension in his shoulders.
Tim had finally rolled back onto his side and was blinking blearily up at him. “Mean,” he said, and it sounded like a pout. “Mean, vintage antihero.”
Jason let out a low laugh. Christ, the kid really was adorable. Fuck. “Sure, Timbit, whatever makes you feel less like a ticklish little birdie.”
Tim’s face screwed up in a flustered grimace, but it quickly smoothed out into a wide-eyed pleading expression (and Jason would recognize a Dick Grayson Look™ anywhere, the kid had learned well) when he looked up at Bruce again. “Coffee now?”
Bruce laughed like he rarely did these days and, after kissing his forehead, scooped Tim up as if he weighed no more than a kitten.
Jason led the way back towards the elevator because he was self-aware enough to know that, with Bruce around, he wasn’t going near the stairs for a damn long while, until his leg was pronounced healed by a panel of PTs. Might as well spare himself the humiliation of being hauled off the bottom stair by his father.
He glanced over at B and saw that Tim’s head had thunked onto his shoulder as if the kid was about to fall asleep. Quietly, he asked, “Stairs or elevator?”
“Elevator.”
And Jason couldn’t stop himself from making a jab. “Old man knees. Right.”
Bruce’s eye-roll was nearly audible while the elevator doors slid smoothly shut behind them. “Don’t start, Jaylad,” he warned teasingly. “You could be next.” He winked, and suddenly Jason was thirteen years old again, curled into a ball of uncontrollably shrieky giggles on the training mats.
With horror, Jason felt the tips of his ears warm, undoubtedly turning red. He sputtered out a few mostly-incoherent protests, then finally gave up when the elevator doors opened. Even momentarily-lamed crime lords didn’t fucking scurry, so his exit from the elevator was a…tactical retreat.
Tim convinced Bruce to let him down, whispering a “Thanks, Dad,” through a wide yawn, and promptly almost fell on his face – typical – before Bruce slung a steadying arm around his shoulders.
“If it only takes tickling you to tears to get a ‘Dad’, I’ll make a point of doing it more often,” Bruce replied, amused.
That got a mortified whine from Tim, which made Jason chuckle. When he turned back, he saw Tim peering at him through gaps in his fingers, which were currently hiding his face.
“That’s the spirit, B,” Jason said.
As Bruce muttered something in agreement, Jason hurried ahead to the kitchen where a fresh pot of coffee greeted him. He retrieved the largest cup in the cabinets for Tim, filled it to the brim, and settled onto one of the countertop stools with a much smaller, more respectable mug. The coffee was a light roast, smooth and nutty and perfectly-brewed. As Bruce and Tim followed behind, Jason distracted Tim with the giant mug and took out his phone to text Dick.
JT: Timberlina’s called B dad, like, 3 times this morning. good time to ask him for whatever you want.
Dickwing: !!!!!
Dickwing: i missed it !!???
Dickwing: ☹️☹️😭
JT: get your vintage ass over to the manor, then.
Dickwing: VINTAGE?
Jason grinned to himself as he shut off his phone and slid it back into his pocket. While he was texting with Dick, Tim had slid into a stool across from him and was happily taking long sips from his steaming vat of coffee. He reddened a little under Jason’s gaze, looking at him almost shyly, then fixed his eyes on his drink. All that attention (and affection) had probably overwhelmed him a little, but he seemed to be doing fine now.
“You know,” Jason said. “If you think about it, Dick’s really the vintage one.”
It took a second, but Tim’s eyebrows flew up. “Yeah! I mean, Discowing.”
“Exactly.”
“Will he be around today?”
“Oh, hopefully.” Jason smiled into his mug of coffee as he sipped. “Now that you’re not squeaking up a storm, it’s a little too quiet around here.”
When Tim threw a balled-up napkin at him, spluttering something incoherent, Jason didn’t even try to duck.
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August's Thoughts:
HEY. HEY. HEY HYACINTH
CAN I SELL YOU MY SOUL FOR MORE FICS FOREVER??????
omg, Jason's fear that HE might be the one tickled the crap out of when Tim alerts Bruce??? LOVE, he wouldnt not deserve it either dfkjhf (as much as he also deserved his revenge on Tim, he also Always deserves tickles himself -- they all do, especially from their DAD) and then Jason getting emotional over Tim playing 😭😭😭😭JUST KILL ME NOW GOD 😭😭😭😭😭
the fact that Tim thought that, while he was hopeless, he was hiding his giddiness at least a little better than this in his POV is so adorable and funny sdfkjdfh Jason's like, i see right through you, look how excited this kid is for tickles sdkjfhf this is so CUTE i cant stand it. and omg, the way i thought Bruce held Tim's wrists with two hands for a second when fixing his hair BUT TIM JUST FULLY HAD A FREE HAND AT THE TIME AND DID NOTHING TO FIGHT OR ESCAPE FKJHDJFKHSDF he's too cute omg
the sheer fondness and love and familial adoration oozing from Jason and Bruce is making me crazy, it's so sweet and so cute and i cant stand it but also its everything i need 😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺I LOVE THEM
also once again the tickling and teasing is absolutely diabolical (as always for you, even if it's just a different POV of what we've already read, its making me insane) and youre PURE evil sdkjfdsfh
AND THE TEXTING DICK sdjfhsjdkfh good planning on their part to go after bruce when he's all schmoopy from tim for sure. and OF COURSE the vintage tease has to be passed around!!! middle child rights!!!! but ohhhh Dick is gonna get him for that one...... i wonder if that's the third fic with Dick that's been hinted at 👀theyre all so cuuuuuuuute 😭😭
this kinda makes me want a POV of the first fic to see how flustered and shy and giggly Jason's brain was all high and melty and having fun with baby brotherrrr -- BUT ALSO THIS IS NOT ME ASKING OR TELLING YOU TO DO SO, PLEASE WRITE WHATEVER YOU LIKE AND FEEL INSPIRED FOR sdjfhjdsf im just Obsessed with your fics Entirely
THANK you for sharing it with us!!!! i adore!!!!! i am your number 1 fan hyacinth
