An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Have you read Buried Low Beneath Your Guilt?
Yes, previously
Yes, now that you've recced it to me
No
Voting ended onDec 1, 2024
Subfandom: Batman
Media: All Media Types
Relationships: Gen (Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson)
Summary:
An AU that examines what would happen if Jason had come back to Bruce to be his Robin again.
I’m playing fast and loose with the nebulous preboot timeline, here. Placed somewhere after Stephanie's 'death' and Jack's murder and Jason's return to Gotham.
Authour: @protagonistically
Year: 2013 (or earlier)
Submitted by @kiragecko
Submitter's comment:
No one succeeds, but Bruce fails the worst as the family struggles to reshape itself around Jason's return.
4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?
Um, ignoring the ones that I have yet to write anything for, there are at least 9. The one closest to being done is called The Last Goodbye, and here’s the first paragraph:
He’s standing over Dick’s unconscious form,protectively with his bo staff extended, shoulders tense, waiting for theinevitable. Tim can’t help but think ‘thisis a great way to die’ in a non-joking, non-ironic sort of way. He doesn’thave much of a choice here. After all, it’s him or Dick, and Tim won’t let itbe Dick. He just hopes that when Dick learns about all of this later, hedoesn’t blame himself, because this is nothing if not Tim’s choice.
28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.
First, this is so hard to answer, because I’m in three different fandoms and I have a lot of favorite fics/fic authors, so how dare you make me choose.
1. @protagonistically I just really enjoy Tim angst fics.
2. @tantalum-cobalt: I also enjoy Tim being a great brother…most of the time.
3. Leah by Michelangelo: Raph angst fics are just as enjoyable as Tim angst fics.
“You’re never going to guess who’s blood is on my shirt – similarly, this is not my shirt but these are my pants.”
Kon wonders if it’s bad bro-code if he hangs up, or if this is something condoned by that sort of thing. There’s a binder around here somewhere with the entire code written down and put in those laminate sheets.
Bart would know.
Was it in an addendum or something?
“It’s early.” Kon says. “Also, it’s never your shirt.”
“Guess.” Tim says, because he’s an actual asshole.
“A criminal’s? I’m hoping? Yours? Maybe? I don’t know, do I get a hint?”
“Batman’s blood on my shirt. Not my shirt – someone’s shirt – “ Kon hears Tim sniff the shirt. And wonders if he’s the first one that got called and if this call is going to go on long enough to warrant him getting up to make coffee or something. “This actually might be Jaime’s. No one I know has clothes that smell like an actual hand-to-God house. Yours smell like farm. Cassie’s smell like – I don’t know. Goddess.”
“You smell Cassie’s shirts?”
“I have some of Cassie’s shirts.”
“Right. Wait – why do you have one of Jaime’s shirts?”
“That’s not the point, here, Kon.”
Kon cannot actually remember the point, because it’s early.
“I have to milk cows in an hour and a half.” Kon groans, putting an arm over his eyes. “Can this wait two hours?”
“No.” Tim says.
“Are you drunk?”
“Not enough. Not yet – soon.”
“Please call Bart and have him take care of you. I love you, but I can’t handle having less sleep than you do.”
“Damian punched Bruce in the face and broke his nose.” Tim says, in a rush that ends with half a giggle. “It was beautiful – we got that on camera, right?”
Tim’s voice gets quieter as he moves the receiver away from his face, Kon can vaguely hear a woman’s voice answering. Is Cass back stateside?
“What do you mean we didn’t get it on camera? We get everything on camera. How could we not get this on camera? You mean to tell me that you somehow got Steph taking pictures of me showering while she was hanging outside my hotel window in Florida, but we didn’t get this in our own house? Is this a joke? Explain this to me.”
“Explain why Damian punched your dad.” Kon says into the receiver because he might as well be getting something out of this.
“Oh, right, yeah.” Tim’s voice returns back to normal volume, “It was probably an accident, but also I think someone spiked the punch with something strong because I don’t remember coming home but someone must have drove and it wasn’t Damian. I mean, it probably wasn’t Damian. Right? Anyway, that doesn’t matter. Bruce probably had it coming for something. Consider a pre-emptive punch. He always has it coming. You hear me, B? You had it coming. That’s right, make the face all you want. I don’t care if I start Jason and Dick off on a musical tangent. If I could’ve punched you in the face pre-emotively for all your bullshit I would’ve. Partners only means something when one of the aforementioned partners isn’t being a giant paranoid turnip.”
As if Kon would know if Damian spiked the punch. Kon waits as Tim has what sounds like a completely one-sided argument with Batman. Tim Drake is the only person in this entire galaxy and universe that Kon knows who can argue with Batman with complete impunity. Not even Clark could do this kind of thing without fear of retaliation. Then again, Tim Drake doesn’t exactly have any fear. Exposure therapy or something.
Maybe if you get exposed to Batman’s wrath long enough you stop caring? Who knows. Tim’s seen some things. And, Kon figures that he has to livewith half the vigilantes of Gotham almost full time.
Tim probably doesn’t give a shit at this point.
Ah, adulthood.
“You are wasted.” Kon sighs. “Can I hang up? Can I formally wash my hands of this train wreck for another two hours?”
“Yeah, I know. Wait, no, not yet. Steph went for an alcohol run because no one is drunk enough to handle the idea that Damian broke Bruce’s nose. Do you think Jaime would let me keep this shirt? For posterity?”
“Why is Batman’s blood on your shirt if Damian’s the one who punched him?”
“That’s a very good question and I’m glad you asked, because now, I too, am wondering. As an aside – why are Jaime’s shirts so soft? What fabric softener does his mom use? You think I could get Alfred to use it?”
“Drink a jug of water, eat an egg, and go to sleep. Please. I’m begging you.”
“It’s already morning, though.”
“I know.”
Silence. Kon wonders if Tim passed out or something. When alcohol enters his system, his attention span isn’t exactly at its best.
“Kon.” Tim whispers.
“Yeah, buddy?” Kon sits up, scratching at his stomach as he yawns. He might as well get up now.
He could probably nap later. Probably.
“I don’t think these are my pants.”
Kon deserves sainthood for this. You need three miracles to become a saint, right?
“Two for canonization, one for beatification.” Tim says.
“Either I was talking out loud or you were being creepy.”
“I am always being creepy.” Tim does in his best Batman voice, which is eerily better than the actual Batman voice.
“I have at least two miracles, right?”
“Being born from a man and what some consider a God on earth, and coming back to life.”
“Clark isn’t a God on earth.”
“Who said I was talking about Clark?”
“Please don’t remind me of the radical Luthor acolytes. Please.”
“These aren’t my pants but they fit really well. I don’t know how I just noticed this.”
“Have you considered that someone probably bought them for you and that you probably didn’t notice until now because they’re comfortable and give you the actual support you need?”
“This is amazing. Dick are these yours or mine? What am I saying – they can’t be yours. I don’t see any mustard stains.”
Kon snorts, phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder as he makes his bed. Someday, bed, someday, I’m going to get a full uninterrupted night’s sleep on you where I don’t wake up floating, get called by crazy and probably drunk friends, or get mind controlled in the middle of nice blissful sleep. It’s all about the simple life.
Growing old is a pain- forget the terrible twos, these are the ferocious fives.
“Kon are these yours?”
“Different waist sizes.” Kon reminds him, “Also different dick sizes.”
Tim hums.
“Have you considered that someone bought them for you, yet? Because you really, really needed it?”
“They’re just pants. Don’t tell Jaime I have his shirt.”
“I won’t.”
“Also tell Ma I said hi.”
“I will.”
“Treat those cows right.”
“Yeah.”
“And give me a ride to the Tower this weekend?”
“Sure, sure.” Kon shucks off his pajama pants and searches his dresser for his working jeans. “Go sleep it off, alright?”
Tim snorts, “Are you kidding? Jason found where Bruce hid the fireballs. Damian’s broken Bruce’s nose. I have new pants. Also, guess who’s teeth are in my shoe. They aren’t mine this time, I swear. Also – as a complete and total aside, don’t judge me, but someone set my hair on fire today so don’t be alarmed if I’m like – I don’t know. Bald the next time you see me.”
Kon is immediately half a foot in the air, with only one leg in his pants and ready to fly to Gotham right fucking now.
“You couldn’t have led with that? Dude. Are you okay?”
“I said don’t judge me. You think I’d look good with a fade cut like yours?”
Kon takes the phone away from his ear and stares at it.
“I’m formally invoking the bro code.” Tim says. “Specifically, Title V, subsection of article three, amendment c.”
Kon doesn’t need to check the laminate binder of the bro-code for this one because everyone’s used it at least ten times within the first month of introducing it to said bro-code.
Kon sighs and forces himself to touch back down on the floor.
“Probably yeah, your head has a weird shape so I wouldn’t go all the way buzzed.”
“Thanks. You’re the best, have I told you that this week? Because you’re the best. I’ve gotta go, Cass just threw Jason out a window. He’s fine, but she can’t reach the whiskey where he left it.”
A very happy birthday to my fave, @protagonistically. You are the Bruce to my Tim, which is to say, I will follow you adoringly and love you always, to the point of making it just a lil awkward.
