Verse: Red's Robin
Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Batman and all concepts, characters etc property of Time Warner and DC Comics
Warnings: Two swears, and fluffy as a baby bunny otherwise
Author's Notes: 4th in the verse
Summary: Well, somebody had to be helping them.
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Tim nibbled at his lip. Three months of knowing the kid told Jason it meant he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure he should.
“You’ve got something to share, sweetheart?” Jason asked, ignoring the irritated glare Tim sent his way.
“There’s no windowless rooms,” Tim said, “and don’t call me sweetheart.”
“That a problem?” This was the fifth house they’d looked at in France alone, and this was the first time Tim had contributed anything.
“I was hoping I could have a dark room.” Tim twisted the hem off his shirt in his hands. “If that’s okay?”
Jesus Christ. He’d known the kid was screwed up, but he’d thought they were over this.
“I’m not-” like your shitty parents, but that’s an argument Jason’s given up on having. “Sure, sweetheart.” Tim hit him.
***
They finally settled on a single story, one bedroom house with a finished basement. Talia had laughed when Jason told her what they wanted. She was far too amused by the entire situation with Tim. It didn’t help that Tim adored her.
“Then your little bird will be sleeping with you?” Talia asked. She was smiling behind her cup of expresso, watching Tim talk earnestly with the café’s owner.
“He’s thirteen.” Jason hide his face in his hand. “Please quit implying I’m fucking him.” Talia smiled and said nothing. In the background, Tim blushed and shook his head. The owner laughed and slid an extra scone onto Tim’ plate, waving off his attempt to pay.
“The people are nice here,” Tim said as he took his seat. He passed Jason an orange-zest scone, and Talia a sea salt and rosemary, keeping the cinnamon raison ones for himself.
“Charming young foreigners often find that to be true,” Talia said agreeably. Tim blushed and murmured thanks. Jason did not kick her. He was seventeen, and could control himself.
“How long can we stay here?” Tim asked.
Talia smiled at him indulgently. “I see no reason why you two couldn’t make it a permanent base.”
“There a range anywhere around here?” Jason tapped at the table impatiently. “I need to improve my gun skills.”
“That can be arranged for,” Talia promised. She raised an elegant eyebrow. “And you, Timothy?”
“Cryptography and acrobatics, if possible.” Tim hummed contemplatively. “And accounting.”
“Accounting, babybird?”
“I have no experience budgeting for a vigilante operation, and I doubt,” Tim hesitated over which name to use, “Bruce covered that with you either.”
“Very wise,” Talia agreed. “I can acquire tutors for you both.”
***
Four years later
“Jason!” Tim hollered up the stairs, “Have you seen my 16mm film?”
“Check the shelf below the toner!” Jason shouted back distractedly. Where the hell did he leave the ammo box for the eight calibers? He tossed another one of Tim’s jackets into the open suitcase. (Seriously, how many jackets did the kid need? Especially army surplus jackets?)
“I did already!” Jason spied the box under the bed, and pulled it out, tossing it into the weapon case.
“Try behind the primer, then!” He scanned the bedroom for anything he missed, finding several pairs of socks, two of Tim’s thumb drives, and his second favorite knife. “Have you seen my favorite knife?”
“In the bathroom, Jason!” Tim said, followed by a series of heavy thumps of a suitcase being dragged up a set of stairs. A final thump, and Tim leaned into the bedroom.
“You want to bring the kitchen stuff?”
Jason groaned at the thought of more packing. “Screw it. You can buy replacements in Gotham.”
“I can buy it?” Tim asked archly. He sat down on the bed and started repacking their suitcase.
“Come on, babybird, it’s not like you don’t do all the cooking anyway.” Jason replied distractedly, fishing the last few loose bullets out from under the bed.
“And I can stop just as easily.”
Jason backpedaled hastily. “I’ll help set up your new darkroom?”
“I’ll think about it.”