SO MANY TINY!TIM ASKS. So many. And, ah, I didn’t write any of these suggestions, so I’m sorry babes. But I feel this thing probably happened between the Bats finding Tim alone in his house all sick in Tiny!Tim and the Fever, and before the one where he admits he knows who they are in Tiny!Tim and the Secret. Like, B and J still think they’re keeping it from him, lol.
Just a note: I was really freaked out about this one and tbh, I was going to just wipe it out and try something different. A very cool babe, @ishouldprobablyworkoutmore gave me some terribly helpful perspective on what I originally had. @satire-please and @miss-choco-chips let me cry a little as per usual. I’m a little better now, so to all those Asks hoping for more Tiny!Tim, you can thank my babes for it :D
**
Mister Alfred is going to be real mad, little Timmy Drake thinks, dazed as he looks around, because the bus can’t make it to my house if the side is torn out.
The initial hit knocked the bus completely on the side, knocking him into the window where he hit his head pretty hard. For a few minutes after the screaming stopped and everything was still, he thought he might throw-up because it hurt. Finally righting himself, the pain in his head subsides as his heart starts pounding so so so fast, making it taste gross in the back of his mouth.
Someone is groaning close to him and someone else is crying. It smells like important things are burning.
Miss May, his first grade teacher, had already covered what to do in case of a villain attack at school. Mr. Mike, the bus driver, had shown them all the emergency exits, where the first-aid kit is, and how to use the extinguisher at the beginning of the year.
None of it helps his shaky, stinging hands, and it’s hard to get to the front when fear is chasing him in the panicked scramble over the seats and broken glass since the bus is on it’s side in the middle of the street in downtown Gotham.
Some of the glass cuts into his knees and hands, but–but he can’t stop! He’s got to think like (Robin) Jay and get to supplies, put the fire out before it can get to the gas tank. If he doesn’t, the whole bus could explode, and all the kids are still on the bus, whimpering and scared. Even the older kids. None of them are moving, none of them know what to do.
So. So, he needs a plan!
He needs to put out the fire and get everyone off the bus!
His fingers scrabble with the latches, and he’s perched precariously with one foot on the big steering wheel and the other on the dashboard. The big storage space in the front of the bus, above the jagged windshield finally gives with a metal groan and Tim blinks tears out of his eyes, bites down on his lower lip, and tries, tries so hard, to stop shaking enough that he can get the fire extinguisher out without falling over Mr. Mike’s body sprawled on the steps below him.
He’s trying to concentrate, trying to think past the twisted metal of what used to be his ride, trying to think about Mister Alfred in the front seat of the big, shiny car with Jay souched in the back, picked up from big school already, just waiting for him since he goes to Wayne Manor on days when Mrs. Mac isn’t scheduled to come.
It’s been almost a year now since they’d found him sick and achy during a bad storm when Mrs. Mac couldn’t make it out. Since then, he’s been meeting a sleek car parked by the bus stop so he wouldn’t have to walk all the way home. On days Mrs. Mac wouldn’t be coming, it was a given he’d be eating dinner and doing his homework at Wayne Manor. Most times, he’d be directed to a room upstairs when it was late. Mr. Wayne would tell him he might as well stay the night, and let Alfred drop him off at the bus stop in the morning.
On the usual day, Jay and Alfred would talk to him about school during the ride, make him warm when he’s included in the conversation and questions are asked about his assignments. During dinner Mister Wayne (“Just Bruce is okay, Tim.” “Okay, Mr. Bruce.” “Well. That’s better than nothing.”) would be there coming back from his office with that scrunchy line between his eyebrows.
(Timmy thinks it’s really the Batman trying to get out. It might be silly, but he imagines it kind of like Sailor Moon. Mr. Bruce holds up his utility belt or a special Batarang, and then transforms into the Batman!)
Today, he isn’t going to meet that car to tell Jay and Alfred about school.
Instead, he’s going to use both hands to squeeze the difficult trigger on the fire extinguisher, get bopped by it before white foam coats the flames, and other kids are peeking over the seats at him and the smouldering fire.
Instead, he holds on to it desperately with both arms once the fire is out and makes himself think about how Batman sounds when he tells the bad guys to let the hostages go, give up or else. Thinking about Batman gives Timmy enough strength to turn on all those terrified expressions and grit his teeth before he opens his mouth to start yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, for everyone to get out the emergency door in the back.
“Get out right now! Get out or else I’m gonna tell. I’m gonna tell all your moms and dads! And you’re going to be in so much trouble.”
That really does the trick and heads pop up immediately at the mention of trouble.
Little Timmy points at the only accessible exit, the big door at the back of the overturned bus since one emergency window is literally blocked by the street and the other is over their heads. The front entrance is blocked by Mr. Mike, so there’s no way they’re getting out there either. The only way to go is out the back, and he starts shoving kids that way while brandishing the fire extinguisher and yelling even more.
He struggles to get over the seats again, trying to push the bigger kids to the back, away from the ripped metal and broken glass. Once the bigger ones start moving, getting the younger ones up and over the seats, Timmy goes back to pull at Mr. Mike still lying halfway down the steps where he landed when the bazooka Two-Face was holding exploded into rush hour traffic.
Tim is really, really relieved Mr. Mike’s eyes are open this time, and the adult is struggling to stand up, eyes dazedly looking around for the other kids he’s in charge of seeing home safely.
Timmy grabs his hand when his legs seem kind of wobbly and walks him to the back of the broken bus, assuring the driver he’s already gotten most of the kids out the back because at least he was paying attention when they were going over emergency procedures. He’s sure Mr. Mike will be super proud when his head isn’t bleeding anymore.
The other kids are huddled around a Fire and Rescue Squad already on site, and Mr. Mike leans on him a little the whole time they cross the chaotic streets.
Automatic gunfire rips through the daytime scramble of screaming civilians, fire and rescue trying to put out flames and pry people out of their cars, trying to contain the madness.
Two-Face is standing up out of the sunroof of his getaway car, Tommy gun going off in rapid bursts while he laughs and laughs and laughs.
“It’s a good day for a trip to downtown! Love ya, Gotham!”
And someone... someone has to do something!
(Maybe be can follow and-and try to keep them from getting away until Bruce and Jay– no, Batman and Robin–can get here!)
He still has the fire extinguisher held tightly in one arm while he slips his hand out of Mr. Mike’s when the paramedics grab the injured bus driver and herd the other kids inside Gotham Water Works to get the civilians away from the rampaging villain, standard protocol really.
But Timmy is so small, and he can fit in some of the best places. He can dart to the side and hide in the right ways so nobody even sees him.
It’s easy to slip away from the group, leaving the fire extinguisher in his place to scramble up the pipe drain to the fire escape where he can see better.
He still has his backpack, so he has pepper spray, his homework, and something he might have accidentally taken from one of the crime scenes in Gotham when he was out on his own.
(Jay never has to know it’s one of Robin’s. None of them ever have to know he figured it out.)
He huffs as he climbs up the fire escape with shaky arms and sweaty hands, his knees trembly and his belly fluttering. He thinks about just reaching up to grab the next rung, to keep stepping up, tries to keep his mind on the next step up instead of getting scared at how high he’s climbing. He thinks about how Robin had to have been scared his first time on the rooftops too, how scared Batman must have been back when he’d first started out.
It’s the strength he imagines they must have had to overcome their fears and still leap out into the night, how terrified they must have been against some of the worst criminals the first time, how they didn’t ever stop when people were in danger. It’s really their strength that gets him up to the first floor on wobbly legs. It’s their strength that makes him breathe, keeps him from running away when people on the street could be in trouble.
He runs across to look down over the other side, watches as the madman laughs more and fires his guns in the air, screaming at Gotham because “here’s your downtown beautification!”
Timmy gasps for breath, ducks down when he hears the soft metallic pings all around him.
In the alley next to where Two-Face’s goons are moving toward Gotham Bank & Trust, going to scare the patrons and get the room ready for the big boss’s dramatic entrance, the little boy flings his backpack off and digs around inside.
The bottom has a little lose thread, something he’d noticed keeps the two pieces of canvas sewn together. Once it started unravelling, he could fit his finger into a nice little pocket he’d made–
–for the thing he’s going to need if he’s going to try keeping Two-Face from getting away until Batman and Robin come to their rescue. Dangerous-looking and heavy, the Batarang is heavy in his hand when it’s folded closed.
In his own room, after Mrs. Mac left for the night and he was all by himself, he’d flip it around, flip it open, pretend he was standing by Batman and Robin, fighting the good fight with them! The plastic black mask from last year’s Zorro costume and the blanket off his bed tied around his neck, all of it made him feel real.
But this...this is more real than that, more important.
He needs to help them, he needs to stop the bad guy from getting away to hurt more people. He needs to–
(be a hero)
–have a plan.
Luckily, the cheap mask is in the hidden pocket along with the Batarang, but putting it on out here with one of the Rogue Gallery’s fearsome bad guys right below him makes it so much more important than when he was playing at being a hero in his room. The mask is more than plastic and string, more than playing.
He feels taller, stronger, like he can do what he needs to do, like he’s wearing a cape and gloves and gauntlets. Like he’s standing between the people of Gotham and those Tommy guns.
(I have to keep Two-Face from getting away. Just until Batman and Robin can get here. I have to be brave, I have to do this!)
His jaw clenches tight, and little Timmy Drake puts his backpack back on quickly, slides the Batarang in the back of his jeans so it’s easy to reach, and throws himself on the ladder going back down to street level.
He drops the last two or so feet and manages not to fall too hard or draw attention to himself, keeps his eye on the car that has screeched to a halt right by bank. Two-Face has stopped shooting, is reloading the Tommy gun while he steps out of the car, and looks like he’s about to make a grand entrance.
With his heart beating in his throat, wishing he hadn’t lost his cellphone when the bus was hit, Timmy peeks around the wall of the alleyway, watches everyone pile out of the car and move to the front doors. His mouth is dry, his knees are a little wobbly still, but it’s going to be okay.
Batman and Robin have to be on the way.
**
Two-Face’s goons throw the door to the bank open wide for him, and all of them walk inside.
It’s the chance he needs to sneak out of the alley to the getaway car, fighting down the panic and bitter taste of bile in the back of his mouth.
The soft sigh when he flips open the Batarang gives him courage, reminds him that he can do this. He has to do this.
Crouching down, he uses both hands to drive the Batarang into the back tire as hard as he can, grunting with the effort to get it through to puncture.
The scratches in his palms hurt because he’s gripping the Batarang so hard, but he’s helping Batman and Robin, so it’ll all be okay.
For good measure he moves to the front and does the same, straining with the effort, eyes watery because his hands hurt more now, but he makes himself sniffle softly and blink rapidly while the air hisses out.
He flips the Batarang closed and turns to run back to his alley before the bad guys come out and catch him. He thinks he’s home free, the car is disabled, and there’s no one out on the street to get shot at.
He did it!
Timmy gets one foot out to run, grinning below the mask and his heart pounding in his chest, happy that he actually helped.
...until a hand snatches his backpack and pulls him right off his feet, dangling him from an angry grip.
“Why you little!”
His heart slams against his rib cage, breath choking him for an important second.
Caught!
“Lemme go!” while he kicks his feet uselessly, throws his arms out, trying to get down, get away before Two-Face comes out of that bank.
“D’ ya have any idea what he’s gonna do ta ya when he sees this?” The angry adult yells in his face. The small boy gasps at the sour smell of the masked man’s breath, hands rough and bruising, shaking him hard, snapping his head back on his fragile neck. “He’s gonna make an example outta ya, kid.”
The mask on his face almost falls off with the shaking, and fear leaps into his mouth again, coppery for real because he’s bitten his tongue.
His legs are wobbly when the goon pretty much drops him back to the ground, shoves him around the car with a hand on the back of his neck, holding him there for the terrifying gangster about to come out of the bank they’ve robbed and see what’s done to their getaway car.
The sneer on the good half of the villain’s face is terrifying, but Timmy forces his legs to hold him up, even with the other thug’s hand on the back of his neck pushing him down.
“Looks like we got us a hero, boys. Another fucking mask.”
A masked goon to the gangster’s right hand, steps up, gun pointed at the sky. His eyes shift from Two-Face to the kid, a bag of money in his other hand.
“Looks like he’s just a kid, boss. They recruiting from kindergarten now?”
Timmy presses his lips together to keep from snapping back because he’s in first grade you jerk! Instead, he has to make them underestimate him, not make them mad enough to hurt him or use him as a hostage when Batman and Robin appear.
The sharp lapels on Two-Face’s suit are crisp and clean over the holster Tim can see underneath when the villain leans down to put them face-to-face, the distorted eye somehow still seeing him, staring him down, looking at him like he isn’t even wearing a mask.
“I’ve got to tell you, squirt, mask isn’t a good look for you. That is just going to get you in trouble.” A finger pokes into his chest to emphasize the point, and he can’t recoil from the touch because the other goon behind him grips the back of his neck harder in warning.
Even if his mouth dry, the little boy still sucks in a deep breath, still tries to be strong, keep everyone busy until the heroes get here without getting himself deeper into hot water. “Y-you’re stealing! And-and people need their money! They might lose their houses if you take it!”
The laugh is twisted and wrong, making his knees shake, and his instincts screaming at him to runrunrun!
But he can’t, the hand on the back of his neck is holding him in place, and he’s surrounded.
“Kid...you need to learn how the world really works,” and the villain straightens up, mouth twisting up in a grotesque half smile. A hand disappears in his pocket, comes out with–
–the coin.
Tim’s eyes are drawn to the metal slipping over Two-Face’s fingers, the movement hypnotic in the middle of a deserted Gotham street.
(Please, please, please hurry. Please hurry.)
But he’s not tossing the coin yet, so-so it could still be okay!
“You look around this city, and what do you see? All those criminals locked up? For what, a few weeks? And then they’re out, playing the same old game. Just like us,” and the coin pauses between two fingers. “And the regular people, just like you and your precious little family, are scurrying like cockroaches between bombs and muggings and toxic gas, trying to make it through another day.”
Two-Face is getting angrier and meaner, his snarling lip and shark-like smile, the coin balanced precariously between his fingers.
“And all of it? All of it is just about chance, kid.”
Timmy swallows when expert fingers nudge the coin flat on top of the thumb, and his stomach abruptly drops.
“It’s 50/50 all around. Whether the next bomb gets you, the next prison break, the next car crash, the next robbery. It’s all a matter of chance.”
The coin trembles in Timmy’s peripheral, and he’s holding on to the folded Batarang tucked into his sleeve so hard his hand is starting to hurt.
(He doesn’t want to use it. He doesn’t want to shove it in Two-Face’s knee to give himself enough time to run. He won’t have to use it because Batman and Robin are going to save him.)
But Two-Face is half smiling again, reaching in his jacket for the gun in his holster, ignoring the scream of sirens in the air. One of his henchmen utter a soft, desperate “boss?” that’s met with a quirked brow before the thug goes silent again.
“So, I’m going to give you a chance, kiddo, and I’m going to be real fair about it, see?” The half smile is anything but nice, is scary enough to make his knees weak again because he really doesn’t believe that.
“I’m going to flip this coin.”
And the scratched side glints in the sun between the gangster’s fingers.
“If it lands on heads, then I’m going to shoot you in the head, clean and quick. You won’t even feel it. But if it lands on tails, then I’m going to shoot you in the stomach. And that, kid, is gonna hurt real bad. You’re going to die slow and painful.”
The manic grin widens as Two-Face drops the bag of money and reaches into his two-tone jacket to pull the handgun out of the holster, the barrel long and shiny as it emerges.
Timmy’s eyes go wide when the barrel is levelled with his forehead, feels the sob trapped somewhere in chest, feels his hands shaking with the Batarang in his sleeve, feels his eyes get wet behind the mask.
“Good luck,” is from the thug still holding him.
But Timmy doesn’t hear it, can only hope he’s strong enough, fast enough to flip the Batarang out and stab Two-Face in the hand or thigh, can only hope he’s brave enough to save himself.
He can only hope Batman and Robin will get there in time.
His pulse beats in the back of his mouth when the resounding ting is the coin being flipped up in the air.
They’re going to save the city. They’re going to save me.
Because he believes in them.
He believes.
Little Timmy Drake, clenches the Batarang, hiding behind his mask, squinches his eyes closed, bites down on his lip–
–and he believes.
It’s a breath, a gasp, a moment when the coin is knocked out of the air in mid-flip by a Batarang with a crazy arc and a whole lot of practice.
Timmy hears Two-Face yelling in rage that the coin was knocked off course, but all of it is drowned out as vigilantes leap down from the sky like avenging angels in a rare, daytime appearance.
The Batman lands it right next to the villain and thug holding a little boy in the mask while Robin unfailingly rolls behind the line of thugs and takes most of the out with sheer momentum.
The other two get taken out with a combination of punches and kicks, making Timmy’s mouth drop open in sheer awe.
The Batman doesn’t even look at the thug holding him. One second the Dark Knight lands it, the next his arm is just somehow extended and the man that was holding Timmy is suddenly laying on the ground against the getaway car with his eyes lolling in the back of his head.
The sudden lack of support makes little Timmy fall down on his butt, legs still quivery with fear, watching with wide eyes as the frightening vigilante raises a gauntleted forearm, the spikes on it gleaming dangerously.
“Causing trouble again, Harvey?” Darkly growled low, the form in the Batsuit just as imposing, just as terrifying in person as in some of his blurry pictures against the dark Gotham night.
Subtle but pointed, the vigilante puts himself in front of the little boy that has slumped to the ground, a flip of the cape hides him from sight, gives him a moment to shake, and make sure his mask is still in place.
The villain’s laugh is terrifying, in the same way he said shoot you in the head without even pausing.
“You know us, Bats. We like to stay front and center!”
He loses the banter while the other thugs go down and the fight between Batman and Two-Face starts with the gun knocked away in the first sweeping backhand. He doesn’t notice when Robin leaps up on the trunk of the getaway car because he’s trying to gasp in a shaky breaths, watching the Batman move on the offense, punches emphasized with meaty sounds as they land on the villain’s face.
Robin is in front of him so fast, grabbing him up in both arms like a baby, and sprinting away from the scene to duck them back in the alley to be away from the ensuing fight.
“Kid, kid,” shakes him because even with the tunic and boots, the mask and utility belt, he knows. “Ya hurt? Two-Face rough ya up?”
Robin is putting him down in the alley, quickly checking him for injuries, winces at the cuts on his palms from the broken glass and sharp metal on his overturned bus. Still in Timmy’s other hand is the folded Batarang, and Timmy doesn’t need to see the raised eyebrow obscured by the mask to know it’s there.
“I-I needed it. The Batarang. The tires– I...I couldn’t let them get away until you got here.” And now that the gun isn’t pointed at his head, his eyes get hot and wet, his lower lip trembling at the fear and adrenaline still coursing through him.
When Robin just blinks down at him, he expects the Batarang to get taken away and maybe a quick, stern lecture about stealing.
But Robin just shakes his head a little and a crooked smile cuts across his face, a low chuckle when he replies, “I might know something about that. All right, stay here. I’ll come getcha after he’s down fer the count. Looks like Batman needs Robin right about now,” and the Boy Wonder salutes him with two fingers (like a hero) and takes off out of the alley to rejoin the fight.
Once he feels like he can stand without falling over, little Timmy peeks from around the corner, his heart pounding as he watches the way they work together, the way Robin uses Batman’s back to propel him into giving Two-Face an amazingly effective punch! Right to the distorted side of his face!
And when Two-Face picks up the Tommy gun again to try for another shot, Robin is the one throwing a Batarang to knock the gun away, back-to-back with the Batman while smoke pellets hit the ground at the feet of the thugs trying to get back up.
Batman doesn’t waste a second, turning with Robin to face the gangster again and deliver a vicious uppercut with a follow-up punch to the solar plexus. At the same time, Robin jumps up, both feet knocking two thugs out colder than the pellets.
(Batman needs Robin…)
It’s so amazing to watch, his mouth dropping open in wonder as the Caped Crusaders move like water and wind, in perfect sync, ducking and dodging around one another like they’ve always worked together, like they’re a team, and it makes his chest feel tight, so tight, but not in a bad way when things are terrifying and there’s nowhere safe–
(except for Wayne Manor)
–when living in Gotham is always, always so dangerous. But watching them, biting down on his lip, he forgets about how much his hands hurt, how scared he’d been when Two-Face was going to shoot him. He gets to be relieved enough for his knees to wobble, for his eyes to get hot and spill over just a little.
The crime fighters effortlessly put Two-Face and his goons down on the ground just as the GCPD’s mobile unit hit the scene to surround the perimeter.
Little Timmy pulls the mask off, wiping at his wet eyes as Commissioner Gordon approaches the downed villain and victorious vigilantes first, flanked by his team who are already fanning out to start rounding up the bad guys.
Robin glances over, looking for him, and Timmy shrinks back a little when Robin goes still. The Boy Wonder straightens up and subtly tugs on the side of Batman’s cape.
The cowl turns, and then follows Robin’s line of sight to the little boy standing in the alley that had been in the middle of the fray, that could have been seriously hurt by Two-Face...
Batman doesn’t make even a tic but a gloved hand squeezes Robin’s wrist as he turns back to Gordon to finish the details, fast and efficient.
(Faster than he had before he’d seen Tim Drake in the mouth of the alley, realized their favorite neighbor had been facing down on of Gotham’s worst criminals. It’s their little Tim and no way can he explain to Jim, the police, or anyone else why Batman would be carrying a small boy with him to fly through Gotham. He’d need his daytime identity. Fast.)
Before Timmy can try to scramble back up the fire escape, two uniformed police officers stumble upon him and immediately start yelling for medics.
Uh-oh.
The bang is grapples firing and the Dynamic Duo taking to the rooftops, leaving Gotham’s finest to clean up the mess and latch on to the young boy in the alley, pulling him toward the emergency crews setting up just outside the perimeter.
(He’s feeling a little woozy, his legs only half-working, so maybe...maybe it’s a good idea to see the paramedics after all.)
And even with all the yelling and scrambling movement, Timmy is a little dazed, watching Batman and Robin take to the rooftops, his heart in his wet eyes.
The detectives that get him to an ambulance are nice, and so is the medic that looks at the scratches, some with glass that needs to come out.
The burn cream hurts, like really hurts, and now that Batman and Robin are gone, he can let himself flinch a little. When she asks, he tells her the bus number a few streets over and how he’s glad everyone made it out okay. He just happened to get lost when everyone scrambled from it before it, you know, blew up or something.
He knows she’s not going to ask too many questions when she smiles gently down at him and bandages his hands. So, instead of asking to call a parent or guardian, she can drop him off to the Fire and Rescue Squad, and maybe he can slip away to catch a ride home without anyone asking being the wiser–
–which fails pretty epically when a disheveled Bruce Wayne comes straight at him through the crowd, Jason right on his heels.
(Mr. Bruce’s waist is lumpy under his shirt. He must not have taken off the utility belt.)
“Tim!” Mr. Bruce pushes to one side of the gurney he’s sitting on, and Jay pushes to the other, a hand just suddenly on the wrist the EMT isn’t wrapping up. But it’s nice when the hand is heavy on his shoulder instead of the back of his neck, pulling him against a broad chest.
(He can almost feel the yellow oval against his cheek)
“Tim! Alfred said your bus was attacked! I’m so glad I found you–”
“We, B,” Jason reminds him idly, looking down at Timmy with the exact same smile–
(Really is my Robin, Timmy thinks now that he can relax a little, thinks it’s funny how Batman and Robin are going to save him again.)
“Of course, Jay, we found you!”
“It’s...it’s okay,” he says lamely, one hand already worrying at the hem of Mr. Bruce’s wrinkled jacket, relaxing in the strong hold, trying to hide the fact he’s tearing up because now his hand and arms hurt. “Everyone got out, and Mr. Mike is going to be okay and Two-Face is going to Arkham and–”
“What’s ‘bout ya, Timmers?” Jay interrupts, staring down the EMT winding a final bandage around Tim’s hand, “lookit! Ya got hurt, didn’t ya? B, we gotta get ‘im home, you feel me? Looks like our guy needs some cookies n’ milk n’ a movie ta calm ‘im down.”
“We absolutely will, Jay. Alfred will be so relieved.” And Mr. Bruce’s hand in his hair is making him so sleepy, the nails scratching gently along his scalp so nice. “On the way home, you can call Dick, let him know what happened and Tim is okay.”
That makes Timmy smile because Dick likes to cuddle him, and he won’t even mind if he’s laying on his hurt arm because Dick’s cuddles are the best.
“Mr. Wayne,” one of the EMTs begins hesitantly, “this boy–”
“Is our neighbor. He’s staying with us while his parents are out of the country.” Mr. Bruce doesn’t miss a beat, already sliding an arm under Timmy’s knees. “We’re responsible for him.”
“Okay, well, here’s some extra bandages for his hands. All of his vitals are good and he’s not exhibiting signs of shock or further distress. Keep an eye on him anyway, just in case.”
“We certainly will. Thank-you for taking care of him,” and Bruce doesn’t hesitate to lift, pull Timmy against a broad, powerful chest while he’s talking, letting the little boy rest limply against him. Jay snags his backpack where he’d stashed his mask and Batarang, wondering if both would be gone by the time they got to the Manor.
It’s a credit as to how awful Mr. Bruce is playing Brucie Wayne because he avoids the media instead of acting like he’s silly, another way of hiding the Batman away.
Jay paces beside them as they cut through a back alley to get out of the war zone caused by Two-Face’s impromptu bank visit.
With the gentle swaying and immeasurable strength holding him, Tim sinks further down into Mr. Bruce’s strength, not really hearing the low talk between them as they walk.
The Rolls is there between one blink and the next, Mr. Alfred ruffling his hair as he opens the back door.
“He got a little banged up in the scuffle today, Alfred. I think he’s more than deserved dessert.”
“You say that based merely for injuries sake, Master Bruce. I shall be the judge after we see how Master Timothy did on his spelling homework.”
“Ssorry, Mr. Alfred,” the little boy slurs, eyes-half mast, “the bus was late.”
Jay laughs a little and lays a warm palm on Timmy’s forehead, “Yeah, yeah. S’okay, Timmers. Long as yer in one piece, I’d say it’s been a good day.”
“Not mad?” But his eyes are fluttering closed already, and his little chest lifts in a sigh.
“At you, dear boy? Never,” and Mr. Alfred opens the back door with a small smile and fond eyes. Mr. Bruce is easy when he chuckles low and ducks down into the Rolls with Tim on his lap and Jay nudged up against his side.
The car moves slowly through the wrecked part of the city until they’re on the highway, heading to Wayne Manor, and the motion of the car lulls him closer and closer to sleep. His hands resting palm up on his legs, and Mr. Bruce a mass of strength around him.
“S’all good,Timmy,” and even though he’s starting to drift, he still hears Jay mutter, “don’t cha take on anymore baddies. Gonna gimmie a heart attack, you feel me?”
B’s voice is soft when he murmurs back, “what was he doing there?”
“Takin’ out Harv’s tires if ya can believe it.”
“Somehow, I’m not really surprised.” Is less Mr. Bruce and more Batman.
“Ya know, B. It’s been a year. Maybe it’s time ta–”
“No. I mean, not yet, Jay. The longer he doesn’t know, the easier it will be to keep him safe.”
“Pfft. Whatevah ya say, Boss. Eventually, I ain’t gonna fit in the shorts no more. Then who’s gonna watch yer ass?”
“That’s not happening anytime soon. For the moment, we try to keep him away from escaped members of the Rogue Gallery.”
“I believe that is the most sound plan, Master Bruce.”
“Thank-you, Alfred. Maybe we can order some pizza for him tonight. What do you think?”
“Aw, c’mon, Alf! We gotta injured bird here.”
“Well. As much as I detest such ready-made slop, I supposed I shall allow it this time. As our young charge certainly deserves a reward for aiding Batman and Robin.”
The soft shifting is Mr. Bruce laughing and as he drifts off, Timmy smiles to himself again.
Parking the car in front of the school Alfred stepped out to wait for his young master. It was wonderful to see Jason doing much better at school than he was when the boy first moved in with them. Standing straight up as the bell rang Alfred looked through the crowd for young Master Jason.
Jason sighed; he felt like banging his head on the nearby door frame, this kid was impossible.
He grabbed at her hands “if you don’t stop picking, then I’ll wrap them together and make them a great big ball”
The red head groaned, throwing her head back, the snow flecking her pink cheeks “You’re the worst Robin, just let me freeze”
He tilted his head, before shaking it and ruffling up the girls hair “Nah, I don’t think so” then he made quick work of undoing his cape and pulling it around her.
Rye sighed, letting her head hang forward as she glared annoyingly at the wrapping on her leg, her warm tights, which she had just barely managed to grab from the donation center, were now awfully ripped.
“Come on” she glanced up to see that Robin had gotten to his feet, and held his hand out for her, she sighed and took it.
There really was no use fighting it, she was ten, without her sister, with a drunken father.
And Robin, who was a narrows kid for god’s sake, had somehow ended up taking her under his wing.
Hah, wing, ‘cuz he’s a bird.
A few minutes later they were off the roof and in a small diner just on the edges of the narrows, where the lady winked at the brightly colored boy and whispered to him; and Rye could swear she saw name other than Robin on her lips, but she couldn’t be sure.
The cocoa was good, though, and the Christmas music was really nice, and she even got to take one of the presents from under the tree.
Rye smiled at the memory as she placed the snow globe up on the hearth, watching as the fake snowflakes fluttered over a beautiful recreation of the Gotham Central Park, the lights of the tiny shops flickering on and off, and the small, horse drawn carriage moving around the large, circular pathway, tiny couples huddled together on benches, while even tinier children were frozen in a snowball fight.
Jason laughed as he placed his matching snow globe next to it, the exact same place, but a different set of miniature people occupying it.
She smiled, elbowing him “Can’t believe you kept it all these years”
“Hey! It was the first present you ever gave me as Robin, of course I kept it!”
Jason slung his arm around their shoulder as they went to the kitchen.
can i ask for Robin!Jay meeting Dick for the first time and having an instantanous crush and maybe trying to impress him but Dick being jerk at first for being the new Robin but then later treats him better? I don't know I was imagining this taking place in Nightwing Year One? (sorry for my english, love your works! '-')
Thanks so much for the prompt *^* So this takes place duringNightwing Year One by Chuck Dixon. Ofc some of the events/things changed a bitto fit the story. And it might have turned out a bit more angsty (at least forDick) than I expected. Because I didn’t like how Bruce treated him (and yes, Iam bitter about that because Dick is such a good boy). Anyways here it is!I hope you like it.
Also posted on AO3
Jason wasn’t expecting torun into the original Robin on his gauntlet run, his first test to being Robin.He actually didn’t realize it was him until a couple minutes in, just thoughthe was some wannabe superhero in blue tights. Only that it turned out that it was him, the first Robin. The one he was replacing.
Needless to say just basedon first impression, Jason was a bit smitten. The man, he was drop-dead gorgeous. Just absolutely gorgeous even in that ridiculous lookingoutfit with a blue so bright, showing every inch of his body, all the curves ofhis muscles, so taut and beautiful. Something that Jason aspired to be when hegrew up.
Just, he couldn’t exactlysee his face clearly with that mask obscuring his eyes, but it was apparentthat he was handsome.
So yeah, Jason was just a tadawed by him, not that he was going to admit it. But he figured since he was thenew Robin, maybe he could surprisehim, show-off and display to him that he’s worthy of his mantle.
Though the first wordsthat slipped from his mouth when he realized he was the first Robin probablywasn’t the most pleasant
“You're old…you're him.“
And the man who he knew asDick Grayson stared at him, appalled.
“You’re what?” He questioned and Jason justsmirked at him as he shot out a line.
“The new Robin,”he said and then swung off the roof.
Apparently, Dick didn’tknow he’d been replaced, and to his surprise, he didn’t reprimand or yell athim like a petty adult to give it back or anything. Though he supposed hewasn’t exactly at fault, hence, he couldn’t be blamed. But when Jason blurtedthat he was on a gauntlet run, Dick seemed a bit freaked and followed afterhim.
“Look! I don’t needyour help,” Jason growled, annoyed. “I can handle this myself. I’mpretty capable,” he said in full confidence, squared his shoulders allproud.
“Sure you can. I betyou’re inexperienced. Where did he find you anyways?” Dick askedskeptically and he sounded a bit condescending.
Okay, so maybe he might bea little angered that he’d been replaced. Anyone would really.
“The streets,”Jason answered and landed on his feet, folded his arms across his chest in fullconfidence, attempting to challenge Dick slightly. “So I already haveexperience,” Jason smirked and Dick just sighed heavily at him.
“Well get overyourself, Robin is not a—” And Jason just ignored him, jumped off thebuilding to land on the other. “Hey!”Dick called and continued chasing after him.
They ended on a high speedchase across the roofs as Jason tried to show off his skills, wanting to earnhis approval, wanting Dick to complement and praise him as he jumped and leaptfrom building across building, revealing that he had what it took to be Robin.
“Robin!” Dickcalled out. “You’re being damn reckless!” He hissed as he was comingup hot behind Jason and then reached out to grab his cape.
“Ugh!” Jasongroaned as the collar around his neck snapped back and he fell onto his butt.“Hey!” he shouted a bit angrily and stared up at the man who waslooking back down at him, lips forlorn and seemed a bit moody. “I’m on atest here! Stop interrupting!” Jason barked back.
Dick all but groaned andpinched the bridge of his nose frustratingly. “Look here—” hestarted, but Jason was suddenly interrupted by a call from Bruce and he soundedrather haggard.
“Batman?” Jasonasked as the man mumbled into his ears, something about Alfred being caught.“What? Abort the mission?” And then his communication piece wasstolen, snatched from his ear.
Dick had taken it as helistened in and blurted, “Then what was the point? To rub my nose in itwith your new brat wonder?” Thetone in his voice was sharp, harsh even and he sounded upset, disappointmentclear in his words.
His brows were pressedtogether into a thin line as he scowled, listening to Bruce. But then suddenly,he’d relax just a smidge as a look of horror swiftly replaced his expression.“Alf is—?” He asked and then nodded his head in agreement tosomething that probably pertained to the butler. He tossed the earphone back atJason carelessly as the teen tried to catch it.
“What’s wrong withAlf?” Jason questioned curiously.
“We got to savehim,” Dick said and rushed off ahead of Jason as the teen squabbled to hisfeet to follow after him.
“Hey wait forme!” Jason called out.
“Go home kid!”Dick shouted back as he unrelentingly moved forth, leaving Jason behind, and didn’teven wait a single second for him to catch up.
That was just rude, Jasonthought and huffed loudly as he struggled to stay on par with the man. He wastoo fast, too agile, jumping across every building with ease. It was a wonderhe hadn’t been able to swiftly catch up to him earlier because right now, Dickwas moving with speed, moving a lot better than Jason and quicker too. The teenwas trailing behind and he cursed himself for doubting his predecessor. Obviouslyhe had the experience and the training while Jason barely had any, just a few months’worth.
He knew that Dick wasangry, could just see it in him now, how he’d been back talking to him, talkinghim down as if he wasn’t worthy of Robin. Treating him like a kid who knewnothing when Jason had lived through so much.Left him behind even though it was hismission, and this was his gauntlet.
Dick probably didn’t evenknow what he was looking for since Jason knew that Alfred was currently playingas a villain. He’d need his help if he wanted to successfully save the butler.
It took him a while buthe’d finally caught up with Dick and dropped beside him onto the rooftop of thewarehouse.
“Surprised you caughtup with me, Robin.”
There was a bit ofirritation in his tone when he’d said his name but Jason brushed it off.“It was easy,” he said even though he was breathing heavily,attempting to catch his breath.
Dick just shook his head atthe teen strode forward, ignoring him as he leaned down to peer into therooftop windows. Jason watched closely, walking up to his side before the manscrunched his nose and turned away. “Not there,” he murmured and thenroughly grabbed Jason by the cape, tugging him along as he went to check outall the other windows.
“Hey thathurts!” Jason argued, attempting to fight back against him and struggledto get free of his hold when suddenly, he was released and tumbled back on hisheels, lost his footing and fell to the ground in an oomph.
Dick didn’t say a word,didn’t even look at Jason as the teen was huddled on the ground, rubbing hissore ass and pressing his palms to the cement floor to stand back up. Instead,he was just minding his own business and observing down below. “There’sour culprit,” Dick whispered into the cold air, and Jason could see awhite puff of air slipping from his lips.
Jason slowly dragged hisfeet towards the man and peered in with him as well, found a body strapped to achair. He squinted his eyes, zooming in on the culprit and found that it wasTwo-Face.
“Ah—” Jason murmured,but was cut off when Dick slapped a hand over his mouth. The man turned to lookat him and brought a finger to his lips, hushing Jason up.
“Let’s go,” hesaid and released his hold as he moved to sneak into the building. Jasonswiftly followed after, climbing in through the window and falling onto thesupport beam. Carefully, he mimicked Dick’s movements and tried to balancehimself well, waiting for the guards to exit the room before they dropped down.
Immediately, Dick went upto the figure, probably expected it to be Alfred, but found someone else.Someone he wasn’t quite a fan of.
“You,” Dick hissed and brought his hand up into a tight fist,ready to land a punch on the man known as Two-Face.
But Jason knew that thiswasn’t who he thought it was and jumped to curl his hands around Dick’s arm,pulling with all his strength as he held the man back, didn’t want him to makethe mistake of punching his dear ol’ butler.
Dick started questioninghim, asking for Alfred, but the villain just smirked and said, “I thoughtI raised you to display better manners, Master Richard,” in that sarcasticBritish accent of his.
“Wha—?“
And then Dick stopped,faltering as a look of confusion filled his face. The strength in his armslackened as he pulled back, probably realizing who this person wasexactly.
"Hey!” Jason called,could hear footsteps in the distance. “They’re coming!”
And swiftly, they ran offto hide in the shadows of the room, waiting for the right moment to pounce asthe men arrived before Alfred. The witty butler said a few lines andimmediately, Dick took charge and jumped out from his hiding space as heattacked one of the men, landing a kick to his face.
Jason followed suitbecause that’s all he seemed to be doing these days and helped assist him inhis fighting, beating up the culprits before Killer Croc arrived in theroom.
“Killer Croc,” Dick snarled and readied himself to battleagainst the human-reptile. He was carrying a bazooka in hand and was beckoningat Alfred, who he thought was Harvey Dent, to come forward and give himself inbut Alf being Alf, revealed himself with his British accent and confused thenew creature.
And he took that as ataunt and fired his bazooka, which Alfred was swift to react and jumped him,caused him to falter back, losing his footing and firing at the ceiling. Crumbsof the building fell from the sky and onto the ground and from the corner ofJason’s eyes, he could see Croc retreating into the back rooms and Nightwingfollowing after him.
Jason left Alfred behind,seeing that the butler could manage his own and was already tying up loose endsand entered the room that Nightwing and Croc had disappeared into.
“Hey,” Jasoncalled and came up right behind Dick. The man just clicked his tongue at himand gestured for him to leave, but Jason didn’t. If he was going to act thisway, hate on him just because he took his mantle, then he was going to doeverything within his power to impress Dick. To make him see that he wasworthy.
So he sucked in a largebreath and shouted loudly into the vicinity of the room. “Hey Gatorbutt!You still here?!” And Dick immediately glared at him from the side.
“You—!”
But then Croc responded,“You should have run,” he growled, voice low and deep as he picked upa stack of crates and tossed them towards the two.
Jason jumped to dodge theattack and successfully landed on his feet without falling over. He pumped afist triumphantly but then was caught off guard as another crate was flung hisway. He quickly dodged it and another was flung at him. It was coming in toofast, too quick for him to escape, but luckily he was saved by Dick as heshoved him off to the side.
“Damn it Robin!”He cursed. “I told you to stay out,” he grumbled and placed a hand athis chest, huddling in front of him as he shielded Jason.
For a guy who he thoughthated him, he was sure being protective. And Jason wasn’t about to allowhimself to be treated like a helpless kid when he’s supposed to be the newRobin, the partner to Batman.
“I can handlethis!” Robin argued and Dick just sighed, frustration evident on his facewith how tight his lips were and the slight wrinkles forming on his forehead.
“Fine,” hemumbled. “Follow me,” he instructed and leapt to attack Croc.
Dick moved like the wind,his body flowing fluidly as he twirled and jumped, tossing kicks and punchesthat resembled a beautiful dance. His moves were flawless and he dealt each hitwith precision, with skill and prowess. He was amazing and his movements were lightas a feather, seeming as if he barely had to put any weight. It was differentthan watching Batman fight, who fought like a brawler with strength and vigorin ever punch.
Dick was different and hewas just so damn beautiful that Jason was star struck, feet rooted to theground as he gazed ashamedly at the man. He didn’t move a single inch untilDick called his name and snapped the teen out of his daze. Jason shook his headand found Croc about to chuck a huge cabinet at them. He lifted a foot forward,ready to bolt out of the way but then suddenly, a motorbike flew into his wayand took Croc to the ground.
“Boys,” a light and feminine voice filtered into the mix andJason caught sight of Batgirl standing off to the side.
Dick just heaved a longsigh and threaded his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. “Nicesave,” he mumbled under his breath and moved to approach her, engaging herin a conversation that was held for just themselves.
As they were busy cleaningup, chaining Croc down so he’d be ready for the police to pick up, Alfredappeared.
“The Master is awakeand request your presence,” he simply spoke and eyed them allindividually. “Everyone,” he added sternly, implying that all thatwere present needed to go.
Dick said nothing, butjust tossed a glance at Alfred and pulled his lips into a small smile, a forcedone. “I’ll ride with Batgirl,” he said and Alfred just shrugged hisshoulders nonchalantly, unsurprised by his question.
“Then I will takeRobin home,” he said and Jason all but threw his hands up in the air andswiftly disappeared. He’d wanted Dick to ride with them, but didn’t see that happeningso he figured he’d steal a car for the ride home.
Jason honestly wasn’texpecting Dick to show up at the manor but he did and that was quite asurprise. Actually more surprised to see him in the flesh and unmasked.
He was as beautiful asJason had expected and he could feel his poor little heart beating rapidly,butterflies floating around in his stomach.
When Dick had arrived, theexpression on his face was dark and Bruce didn’t look any different. He wascovered in bandages, sitting on his chair with his arms crossed, leveling thoseblue eyes of his at Dick as the man kept his distance.
“Everyone out,”Bruce said and looked at all participates, signaling for them to leave. Jasonwas reluctant but he followed Alfred out, only to renter the cave once he wasout of sight. He crawled to the shadows of the cave and hid behind one ofBatman’s souvenirs to keep himself out of sight as he listened in on theconversation.
Well, he was waiting forthem to actually start speaking. There was a heavy silence that filled the air,spreading thin across the atmosphere. It was tense and even made Jason feelnervous. The teen sighed softly, trying to be patient with his emotions. Hewanted to just jump out there and get them to talk already. As if his prayerwas answered, they started.
And the first to speak wasnot Bruce, but Dick.
“I can’t believe youreplaced me Bruce,” his voice sounded strained, almost hurt.
“You left,”Bruce simply stated and Dick all but growled loudly at that remark.
“You fired me,”he kept his tone leveled, was trying his hardest to not burst out at Bruce.
And Jason didn’t know thatDick had been fired. Just assumed he was too old and that Bruce stripped themantle from him and gave it over to Jason. But that was—that wasn’t right.That’s just—
“You were neglectingyour Robin duties.”
“I was—” hehuffed loudly. “I was not Bruce.I was there, but I can’t be there allthe time. I had other duties to uphold.”
"That shouldn’tmatter. You are Batman’s partner and Robin should be your priority.”
“Bruce!” Heshouted, giving into his anger. “That’s not—god damn. We’re having the same conversation as last time.”And then there was a pause as both of them collected themselves. “I—I’m upset,” Dick murmured, finallyletting out his true feelings. “I thought I was your partner.”
“I thought you were mine.”
“I was. Obviously that wasn’t the case because you went and replaced me with some new kid. God damn it Bruce, if youjust wanted a new Robin then fine, you could have told me. But to have me findout this way? That after you fired me, you gave away my mantle? Mine? That I created on my own. That Iused my families colors for?”
And in that moment, Jasonrealized that this wasn’t a conversation he should be listening in on. That itwas far too private for him to hear,that his mentor and his predecessor had a long history together that resultedin a terrible falling out. That Robin wasn’t given to him just because hedeserved it or that Dick wasn’t good anymore. It was because Dick was too busyto be Robin full-time. To be Batman’s Robin full-time.
He sucked in a shakybreath and leaned out to peer at the two, could see Dick’s shoulders shakinguncontrollably, trying to hold in his emotions before he burst any further. Andthe look on Bruce’s face? That look was—wasn’t something Jason had seen before.He almost looked heartbroken, almost torn about his actions.
“Dick—” Bruce called softly and then paused, fingers curlinginto tight fists as he struggled with what he wanted to say. “I—”
And this was somethingthat Jason shouldn’t be hearing. If it was an apology, it wasn’t meant for him,wasn’t meant for his ears. So before Bruce could say anymore, Jason plugged hisears and swiftly left, disappearing from the cave and reentered the manor.
Whatever they had goingbetween them was for them and them only.
Jason was just hanging outin the living room, watching TV as he stuffed his face with popcorn, courtesyof Alfred. He’d had a huge bowl in his lap and a large cup of tea sitting offto the side on the table. He’d actually wanted soda but Alfred had rejectedthat, said it wasn’t healthy for a growing boy and he needed to maintain hisgood and bad calories. Jason frowned at that but accepted it anyways as foodwas a delicacy for him.
As he continued to passthe time, watching some cartoons, he heard soft footsteps approaching him andturned his head to see the newcomer.
It wasn’t who he expectedit to be.
“D-Dick?” He stuttered and almost dropped his popcorn to theground as the bowl slipped from his lap. But Dick was quick and snatched theside as he pushed it back in to settle securely on his thighs.
“Hey…Jasonright?” Dick asked with a soft smile and Jason could see his eyes were abit red-rimmed, slightly glistening with tears. He looked like he’d been cryingand Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he was. The two were in the cave for a long long time and hopefully, they’d had asuccessful talk and resolved their issues. From the looks of it, they mighthave.
“Right, JasonTodd,” Jason replied and nodded his head.
Dick just puffed a breathand took a seat right beside the teen, leaving just a bit of space in betweenthem. He’d settle his attention on Jason, vivid blue eyes slightly glassy andhe sniffled a bit. “Uh—” he started and licked a tongue over his chappedlips. “I wanted to say—” he was having trouble forming his thoughtsinto words, was probably delaying what he wanted to say exactly.
“What?” Jasonprompted, wanted him to just spit it out.
And Dick sucked in a longsigh and breathed out. “Sorry,” Dick said, apologizing to the teenand hung his head in shame.
“Huh?” Jasonarched a brow, confused about his sudden apology.
“I’m sorry,”Dick repeated.
“For what?”
“For…youknow,” he said and made a hand gesture at the teen, like he was supposedto know what he was referring to. He had a feeling but he wasn’t going to say.“For being mean to you. I’m sorry I treated you badly. I was disorientedat the bit of news.”
“You mean mad right?” Jason said, wasn’tgoing to sugarcoat his words since that was the honest truth.
Dick just smiled at him inamusement and moaned softly, scrubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah. I guessI was. I mean, not at you. More at Bruce.”
“I see,” Jasonreplied since he knew that to be the case. “I suppose you have a right tobe mad at him.” He wasn’t about to say why since he wasn’t supposed toknow.
Tears brimmed at thecorner of Dick’s eyes and his face scrunched in agony, almost as if he wantedto cry again. But he drew in a large breath to calm himself down and thenchuckled. “Yeah. I do. He was a jerk,” he murmured under his breathbut the way he said it sounded fond and Jason could tell that there was nolonger any ill-feelings apparent in his expression. It was as if it’d beenwashed away and Jason sure hoped it did. If Bruce hadn’t apologized to him thendamn right he’s an asshole. And Jason would consider doing something just tospite him.
But it seemed to him thatthey had a talk and things had gone well. Dick appeared a bit brighter, morelight-heartened than when he’d first gone into the cave.
“I guess he is a jerkconsidering he put me through so much training,” Jason agreed though hewas quite pumped about that. But the way he’d lecture him after, not so much.
Dick just laughed andbrought a hand to ruffle his hair, messing up the curls that he’d put so mucheffort into taming
“Hey!” he criedand attempted to slap Dick’s hand a way, but didn’t. He actually liked the feelof his long fingers threading through his hair, it felt soft and warm, soothingto the touch.
A rosy pink dusted hischeeks and he could feel heat filtering onto his face.
“Ugh,” hegroaned softly.
“You’re okay Little Wing,” Dick murmured andretracted his hand back to his lap.
Jason’s eyes widened atthe man as he stared at him in confusion while Dick just smiled at him happily.Little Wing? Was that supposed to bea nickname for him? It was—it was a really stupid sounding name and sort ofinsulting to call him little but well, Jason didn’t mind it oddly enough. Hecould feel the heat on his face lighting up once more and scoffed, tried toplay off his embarrassment. Why was he even giving him nicknames in the firstplace?
Jason curled his lips intoa pout and sulked like a child, glaring dangerously at his predecessor. Dickjust laughed at him and pinched his cheek playfully. “You’re alright.Maybe I’ll take you out to train sometime.”
And suddenly, Jason’s eyeslit up like it was Christmas morning, excited about the present he was about toreceive. “Really?”
Dick arched a brow at himin amusement, surprise gracing his expression at Jason’s sudden interest and hesmirked. “Yeah,” he said lightly.
And Jason was just beyond thrilled,could feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through his body. He wanted to startnow, couldn’t believe that the former Robin was going to train him. But he hadto play it cool, didn’t want to come off as an overly enthusiastic kid so heschooled his expression. “That's—that’s cool,” he said but his facefaltered and he heard his voice crack, cringed at how he’d just embarrassedhimself.
