Fic: The Do-Over (part 1)

[aiyokusama]

Title: The Do-Over (Part 1)
Fandom: Batman (AU)
Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson
Genre: AU/Gen
Warnings: Jason likes to swear
Word Count: 6004
Summary: Jason wakes up thinking he is 15.  According to the date, he should be 19.  Oh and Magic sucks!

A/N: Thank you to the fabulous dragonbat2006 for her wonderful beta!

Jason isn't a morning person; he never has been, except when he’s had to be. And right now, he has to be, because things feel very wrong. The boy sits bolt upright in bed, blinking furiously, trying to get his eyes to focus... A baby blue room? Other then the colour it's pretty generic, just a bedroom like any other. But not like his. He's not in the Manor. Where the fuck is he?

He looks down and does a double take. What the fuck is he WEARING?!

The t-shirt is a rich purple with...Teletubbies on it?!  Oh man. If he's being held hostage, this is seriously messed up. But he's not. Or he doesn't think so. He's not restrained in any way and the door to his room is even open a crack. He smells...bacon? Yup, that's definitely bacon. Of the maple variety.   Jason's belly growls. He's hungry, but not starved. Okay, he's starved by virtue of being a growing boy, but... Meh. He gives up trying to make sense of it.

Throwing the warm covers off, he swings his legs over the bed and stops. White boxers with pink hearts? Seriously?! Jason gives a heartfelt groan. Fine, time to get answers. First stop is the window. He opens the thick curtains and has a look. That's the Gotham skyline alright, but wherever he is, it's close to the top of it. Okay, then. The teen heads to the door and pulls it open slowly.

He finds himself in a short hallway that opens up to his left. To his right are three other closed doors. Jason can hear kitchen sounds and someone typing on a keyboard. A quick glance around the area shows no cameras or shit like that so...

Jason steps out and heads to the open area. He thinks he’s doing a good job of being stealthy, but apparently not. A voice says conversationally, “He's up, Dick.” Dick?

When he gets farther along, he can see a black-haired kid sitting on the couch, his gaze glued to the laptop. Without looking up, the boy gestures to the open concept kitchen. “He's that way,” the boy informs him. And yes, there is Dick, standing at the stove, wearing an apron over his pyjama bottoms. With MUCH shorter hair.

“Uh, when did you cut your hair?” Jason asks lamely, as he gives the unknown boy one more glance before heading to the table.

“Oh, a while ago now,” the man says turning around with a smile. Does he have MORE laugh lines?  It's Dick, so he probably does.

“You mean like last month?” That's about how long it's been since he's seen the guy. The annoying prick doesn't come around often, but he seems to have made it his mission in life to abduct Jason on a semi-regular basis for the acrobat's idea of “fun” and brotherly bonding. Not that Jason would EVER admit it, but the train surfing IS kinda fun.

“Not… not quite. What's the last thing you remember, Jay?” Dick isn't looking at him. Well he IS cooking and bacon can burn easily, but why isn't Dick looking at him?

Jason shrugs as he sits. “Fighting with B, 'course. You know how it is with him.”

Finally Dick turns around and his expression is positively worried. But also... hopeful? He gestures for Jason to continue. It's all starting to creep him out, and there is still that kid in the living room. What's going on? No, he'll play along for now. Maybe. Yeah, no, he will.

“I was pissed and needed to clear my head, so I went into Gotham.” He stops himself and frowns. “I... I was going to, but I don't remember leaving the grounds.” The frown deepens.

Dick is nodding, even as he asks, “What's the date, Jay?”

“Uh...” He thinks about it. It's mid-morning now, and it had been afternoon when he fought with Bruce, so... “August third .” Assuming he'd only been asleep for the one night...

“What year?”

Jason looks at the first Robin as if he's lost his freakin' mind, because clearly, he has. It becomes a staring contest, and the longer it goes on, the more scarily serious and worried Dick's expression becomes. Jason breaks first and answers. “2008.”

“It's November 19th, 2012,” a voice from the living room informs them. The kid. Who..?

“Who the fuck is the comedian?” Jason demands, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the approximate direction.

“That's Tim Drake. He took over being Robin after you-” And Jason has no idea what Dick says next, because it's utter gibberish. He stares at the man like he's grown a second head. Dick blinks back at him. “What?”

“After I what?” Jason demands. He's starting to get annoyed. Okay, more annoyed. He grinds his teeth, until he realizes that he's doing so; then he forces himself to stop.

“You…” This time the gibberish is coming from the kid-Tim?-in the living room, who is STILL looking at his fucking laptop.

“What the hell is with the baby babble?! It's not funny!” Jason snarls, as he slams his hands down on the kitchen table. He’s at the wrong angle to glower at the kid, so Dick gets a double dose.

Dick blinks back at him. “No one is joking around, Jaybird, honest. Um...” He seems to be reaching for something to say. Is he trying to spare Jason's feelings?! The fucker would, too! But Jason doesn’t NEED to be protected and his feelings are just fine. Well, yes, they are on the angry end of things currently, but that's totally reasonable!

“Spit it out!” he says with another snarl. Now he’s only snarling because he can't think of anything more appropriately dramatic to do.

Dick turns back to the bacon, pulling the crispy strips out of the pan and putting them on some paper towels to drain. The gusty sigh is dead obvious. “Blood brought you here last night. He said that there might be some... side effects.”

This revelation is not helping Jason's temper. At all. But he takes a deep breath and stuffs down his irritation. Or as down as it ever gets with him. “Complications from what? And what complications?” His skull is starting to throb; the jerk is giving him a headache. Or the kid is. No, they are both fucking in it together and Jason really needs to stop now, because he's not making sense inside his own head!

Finished with the bacon, Dick turns and looks at him. He looks fucking old and tired. “Let's start with the complications. There was magic involved--”

“Aw fucking hell,” Jason moans. Magic is fucking STUPID and a pain in the ass, too.

“--so you know how unpredictable things can get.” Dick holds out his hands apologetically. “Anyhow, Blood seemed to think that you might not remember a lot of stuff. And that maybe you wouldn't even be able to be TOLD about some of it. He said it's like there are barriers in your head, like it’s your brain trying to protect itself.” The guy is talking fast. Is he nervous? He’s practically trying to will Jason to understand.

For his part, Jason sinks into a kitchen chair and puts his head down on the table. Bonks his head against the table, actually. Again. Nope, it's still not making sense! Before he can bonk his head on the solid surface one more time, a hand gently cradles his forehead protectively. Dick is so... Dick. Just the same, Jason looks up and is about ready to scream when he sees the blatant sympathy on the man’s face.

He digests that and grinds his teeth. No, not that. He sighs. Aw crap, now he sounds like Dick.

Someone places a plate of bacon on the table in front of him. The hand on the plate is small; delicate even. He blinks up and it's the kid. “Eat,” Tim says. “Both of you,” and he sets another plate before Dick who is still standing. “Don't make me sic Alfred on you.”

Jason blinks and huffs, but there is no real heat behind it. Of course, Dick is grinning like the idiot he is, but he sits and tucks into his breakfast. Which is all bacon. Alfred would be most put out. Jason, on the other hand, is not complaining at all. He takes a forkful and stuffs it in. Okay, it's official, bacon makes everything better. He clears half his plate before he asks, “So why did Blood bring me here? Why not the Manor?” The sorcerer knows who he is, so what's the deal?

“Um...you and Bruce really don't get along. At all. It's… kind of a long story,” Dick explains lamely. “After you~~”  more gibberish, then the words are back. “You kind of made it your mission to make his life difficult and you did a really good job of it, too. But you were~~” MORE gibberish. “Then you~~”

At that point, Jason holds up a hand. “I only got... half of that?" And it makes no fucking sense. "So B doesn't like me. I'm guessing that means if I'd been dropped off there, he would have done something stupid like tie me to the computer chair in the Cave?” He gives Dick a meaningful look and is somewhat mollified when the jerk chokes on a laugh.

“Probably not that tame,” Tim quips. He's back in the living room with that computer of his.

Jason still has no idea who this kid is and it's hard to get a read on him. He looks to Dick, waiting for an explanation.

“Gotham is... a lot darker then you remember, Jay. And a lot has happened. Some of it involved you.”  The guy is looking distressed again. Pensive. No, he’s looking fucking constipated. It's the sort of thing he'd expect from Bruce, not the expressive acrobat.

“That bad, huh?” It's a rhetorical question, but his big brother tenses. “Come on Dick, how bad could it be?” The look tells him it was VERY bad. Oh.

Jason frowns down at what remains of his bacon. After a moment, he starts eating mechanically. Life on the street has made sure that Jason will never waste food. Even life with Alfred, who always made sure he had his fill, never changed that. While he eats, his brain is trying to process what little he has heard and is coming to the uncomfortable conclusion that it simply won't work. Not with so many things he apparently can't hear.

He's back to grumbling under his breath about magic. Dick is giving him a worried look. The teen shrugs his right shoulder. “Nothin', Big Bird. Just hating this shit,” he huffs ineffectually.

Once his plate is clean, he takes it to the sink and carefully places it in. Then he glances back at the kid on the couch. Still working on that damned computer. And frowning hard at something. He wonders what has the kid so focused.

Since Dick seems to have busied himself with cleaning the plates, Jason heads over behind the couch and looks over the kid's shoulder. What the-? Is the kid trying to run a search on magickers? He slams the laptop closed before Jason can be sure. And glares at him for his trouble. Jason just smirks back, pulling on his best brat face.

“So how'd you get to be Robin?” Jason is pushing hard to keep his tone conversational, but it's not easy. His stomach is in knots about someone else wearing HIS short-shorts. Is this how Dick felt when he'd first seen Jason out there? Suddenly he has lot more sympathy for his older brother, as well as an even greater sense of amazement that Dick hadn't killed him on sight.

Tim seems to be considering his words carefully. Or maybe he's just trying to get a read on Jason. Possibly both. Probably both. More than probably, given the way the kid is staring. “After you...went away,” and it's clear he'd wanted to say something else, “Bruce was in very bad shape. At first, I tried to convince Dick to come back and be Robin again.”

Jason sorts. “Yeah, bet that went over well.” He can just picture it, too. Some kid telling Dick that Bruce needs him and Dick being a world of HELL NO.

Tim shrugs. “He did come back, but as Nightwing and no one was listening to me, so...” Another shrug. “I ended up putting on the suit and going with Alfred to save the both of them.”

That gets Jason blinking. A lot. Alfred is awesome in so many ways, but him being out on the street isn't right. And an untrained kid in- “Wait. DID you have training before you put the costume on?”

The kid smiles a little. “Does a Bristol karate dojo count?”

It's official. Jason's brain is broken. More broken. Oh hell. He scrubs a hand through his hair. Then he gives his head a violent shake that translates into a full-body effort, cuz, uh, wow. He takes a few deep breaths and just looks at the kid, who really is kind of scrawny. Okay, no. Lean is a better word, though he's willing to bet that a lot of folks make the mistake of thinking scrawny. And maybe get their asses handed to them for it. Heh.

Tim is built like a swimmer, all wiry muscle and no spare flesh. He can see that, now that he's looking. Was the kid scrawny when he was younger? Jason is now VERY curious. He moves around the couch and sits down next to the kid, still looking him over. He notes Tim's wary, raised eyebrow.

“And B let you?” Jason asks conversationally. Or it would be conversationally, if he wasn't so obviously digging for information. Digging in an open, good-natured way. Mostly.

Had Tim been expecting him to ask something else? The boy seems startled and suspicious, but maybe… hopeful? Very much the same expression as Dick’s. Okay, that kind of gives Jason the creeps and makes him want to ask about the things he's apparently not allowed to know about himself. Stupid goddamned magic!

“He didn't exactly have a choice,” Tim says quietly, interrupting Jason's mental tirade. Now it's Jason's turn to raise an eyebrow and gesture impatiently for the kid to continue. “Dick and Alfred backed me and I… kind of used logic to corner him.” He smiles ruefully.

Jason snorts and shifts position, so that he can lightly punch Tim's shoulder. “Bet he loved that,” he scoffs, amused. Bruce probably hated it, since he can't deny logic the way he can so many other things. That said, he'd likely try to find reasons to discount the logic. Like maybe making up an excuse for why the kid wouldn't be good enough? But even so, that wouldn't really work, because Bruce took HIM in, a dirty street rat with no real skills, just a big attitude and an even bigger mouth.

Tim shrugs. “You know him. He has his own rules.” There is a lot he’s leaving out, but Jason has no idea what.

Jason thinks about trying to find out about what Bruce has been doing lately, whatever the fuck “lately” covers. But maybe that's a waste of time. Maybe it’s better to get it from the source. “Think he'll shoot me on sight?” he asks, standing up. That gets Dick's attention. The acrobat leaves the kitchen and heads over like he's thinking about maybe hugging Jason. Or hog tying him. Both? With Dick both isn't out of the question by any means.

Standing up quickly the teen puts the couch between himself and his determined older brother, eyeing him. Dick sighs and puts up his hands in surrender. “Jay, just give it some time before you head to the Cave, okay? And let one of us at least give him a heads up. Please?” The please gets Jason's attention, like nothing else he’s been hearing has; this is going to be hard for Bruce. Well if the guy currently hates him, shouldn’t that make sense? He doesn't really know.

Jason is back to hating magic and not being able to see the giant fucking elephant in the room. An elephant that, apparently, might trample Bruce. Jason doesn't want that to happen. Sure there are lots of times when he's wanted to smack the fucker silly, maybe even knock out a perfect tooth or two, but that's not the same thing at all. Is it?

He has no idea and trying to come up with one is exacerbating his headache. He shakes his head again and looks at Dick. “So call him. I...” He looks down at himself. He's still in the damned t-shirt and boxers. Fuck! “I need some real clothes. Like now,” Jason demands as he crosses his arms and glares.

Of course, Dick is smirking at him. “Whatchya got against the Teletubbies, Little Wing?”

He rolls his eyes. Really, any other response would only encourage the idiot. “Fine, I'll go help myself to YOUR closet,” he threatens and heads for the bedrooms. Or... uh, his room? He hasn't exactly explored the penthouse. Nor does he remember Bruce having anything like this.

“My room is that way…” Dick supplies helpfully, as he jerks his thumb in the direction opposite the one Jason's going. Of fucking course. Gah. “…but there should be some things close to your size in your room. I had Alfred pull some of your clothes out of storage after Blood dropped you off.”

And that means that Alfred knows... something at least. But Bruce doesn't? Well, the butler is known for his discretion. Especially if it's something that would cause “Master Bruce” difficulties. He frowns as he heads back down the hall to what apparently is Jason's room. Does that mean Dick is inviting him to stay? The acrobat probably is without even realizing it. It's a thought. It's definitely a thought. Maybe his only option, if Bruce decides to be a jerk.

He looks in the drawers first. There are boxers and socks, some t-shirts and a couple of pairs of shorts. Not a lot. The underwear is new. But the shirts and shorts are his. He smiles when he finds two pairs of his comfortable, faded jeans. Perfect. If it's November, then there's no fucking way he's surviving in shorts.

But when he slips into them, he frowns. They are an inch ABOVE his ankles. These had been the perfect length the last time he put them on, down to the floor, with the edges scraping the dust as they should. The fuck? Did he grow overnight or something? But given all the nonsense so far, is it really any wonder?

At this point he's going with the idea that it's best to just shrug and move on. Worrying about this shit sure won't change anything. So, yeah, dressed. Part of him wishes for his Robin suit. But that would be stupid during the day. Besides, Tim's...

He stops and thinks about it. It's... he feels kind of removed from it, where he hadn't been just ten minutes ago. He's not Robin any more. Hasn't been for a while, going by what Goldie had said. Now the new kid is Robin. And... he has no idea how he feels about that. Robin WAS-is?-the most awesome thing that ever happened to him. He wouldn't trade it for anything. But… but he's apparently moved on from Robin, becoming something else. Like Dick did with Nightwing?

Part of Jason likes the idea. It's... When he was 12, Bruce found him. Batman. Who was big and amazing and had all kinds of cool shit. Then when he was 13, and he started going out with him as the Boy Wonder, that was the best. Empowering. He could help people in ways he'd only been able to dream of, when he’d been on his own in Crime Alley. He still can and it's still.... Still a THING inside him, bright and tight at the same time.

But... but it's not limited TO Robin. Is it? He was out there as... as something not Robin, doing his thing. Was he doing his thing? He'd kind of have to be, right? He's still himself and fucking with Bruce wouldn't change it, right? So it's okay that Tim is Robin? Isn't it?

He has no idea. Part of him finds that odd. Another part thinks he should figure it out. The rest of him is too damned tired of this shit to care anymore. He wants. Ice cream.

Jason smiles as he does up his sneakers and heads back out. “Dick, I need money. I want a waffle cone.” When Dick glances up from his handstand push-ups-fucking show-off-in the middle of the living room, he adds, “with sprinkles. Does Ramino's still exist?”

Dick and the Tim kid are looking at him like he'd just asked for... for something a lot less innocent. Jason blinks at them. “What? I want ice cream.” Okay, so that's just an excuse to get the fuck out of here. And think. Or maybe simply to not think. Yeah, not thinking is sounding really good at this point.

The acrobat flips up onto his feet and goes to the side table, where a battered leather wallet sits. He pulls out a twenty and hands it over. “Just, uh...ice cream?” There's something the guy isn't saying. Jason narrows his eyes at him. Dick blinks. “What?”

“That's MY question, Dick.” Okay, a bit of a sneer is coming through. “Was I an addict or something?!” He couldn't have been. He... No, drugs are one thing he's never... would never...

Dick looks utterly horrified and he waves his hands somewhat frantically. “Nononono! That's not.. I just... Don't go to the Manor, kay? Not until we can give Bruce a heads up. But uh... yeah. Just trust me on this?” The man's bright blue eyes are openly pleading with him, begging him.

Jason blinks. That was... really? “Uh... okay?” He really hadn't been thinking about going there, especially when they’ve been over this not so long ago. For all that part of him IS still mad about a fight that apparently happened years ago, it’s just, he's not that concerned about seeing the guy. “Yeah, just ice cream. Maybe some walking around.” He really has to see how things have changed.

Before Dick can say anything, Tim looks up from that computer of his. No, he closes it. “I'll go with you,” he announces as he walks over. The kid is wearing some stylish slacks and a neatly pressed button-down shirt. ‘Dork’ is the word that comes to Jason’s mind. “Maybe I can fill in some of the blanks,” the boy offers.

Jason bites his lip. He has the bad feeling he's being fucking managed. And he really hates that shit. But... But... His life is filled with fucking "but" and not in a good way. He restrains his urge to scream and pull out his hair. Or Tim's hair, maybe. Hmm, that thought has possibilities. Naw. Still, it makes him smile crookedly for a reason he can't explain.

“Yeah, sure,” he says finally, as he heads to the door. Uh... did that sound as bitchy as he thought? Well, crap. Whatever. Too much shit has happened in the last hour. So, fuck it. He shrugs it off and opens the door, which leads to a small hallway. That hallway has a couple of side tables with silk running cloths and tasteful knick-knacks on them. The floor is marble, of course. And the elevator is gilded, glitzy. It's totally the sort of thing one would expect of Brucie Wayne. Has he ever even BEEN here?

Random thoughts are random. Is that another aspect of his mind trying to protect itself? Or is it just him being him? Him being human? Humans generally have ten different trains of thought going at any given moment. And that is beyond random. It doesn't even really sound like him. Feel like him? How does one describe thoughts?

After a moment, he realizes that Tim is standing behind him, just out of touching distance and that is something. He has no idea what, which is annoying since it feels like something he should understand. Something that means a lot of whatever it is he's not remembering. Aw damnit.

“Are we friends?” he asks, as the elevator pings and the doors open. The car is lined with mirrors. He wonders how many cameras are hidden behind them.

“I…” The kid is frowning when Jason glances back over his shoulder. Frowning hard. Jason waits. “We didn't exactly get off on the right foot.”

Well that's fucking cryptic. Jason scowls back at him. And just gets a shrug in return.

“Let's just call this our first time, k?” Tim asks. That hopeful look is back. As is something else Jason can't define. Whatever it is, it makes the kid look even younger, which is just plain weird and so not making sense.

Still, the request is reasonable enough. And given all the rest of the stupidity, why the fuck not? Since he can't remember and noone can tell him, it's not like there's much choice. He nods slowly and then offers the kid his hand to shake. “Jason Todd, nice ta meetcha.”

Tim is looking at his hand like it might be a snake in disguise. Then he shakes it firmly, before letting go. “Tim Drake. A pleasure.” The boy has a shy little smile on his lips. “You never knew, but I used to follow Robin and Batman at night. I got some pretty decent pictures of you making various thugs rethink their career paths.”

Jason is torn between smirking and gaping, because that was kind of a bombshell. “Did B know you where there?” But why the fuck would Bruce let a kid follow them around, if he knew?

“No, not until I approached him about... things.” The smile is gone now, replaced by a frown. Well, at least, Jason isn't the only one getting annoyed with the current state of affairs.

There are so many things to ask, but most of them would open all kinds of cans of worms that he's really not up to dealing with at the moment. So what's safe? Okay, that's a stupid-assed question, all things considered. He blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Wanna spar some time?”

The boy looks conflicted. Surprised? Suspicious? Hopeful, definitely that. And just, well, “young” is the best term. The best term? Whatever it is makes Jason want to fidget. Or pat the kid on the head. Or blush?

He gives himself an internal shake.

“Yeah, we can do that. Do you like staves?” It's kind of cute how innocent and perfectly conversational that question came out.

“I'm more a baseball bat kind of guy, ya know?” Jason offers with a lopsided grin. He's SEEN Bruce working with the wooden practice poles, and the man is scary-awesome-which is pretty much par for the course-but those sorts of things are just too finicky for Jason to stay focused on for long. Or they were when he was a kid. Gah! Seeing as he's still young. Younger? And even then, it's not true, cuz he totally loves the finesse he gets with the batarangs and blades in general and--

He's back to not making sense to himself. Jason scrubs a hand through his hair and growls. The kid is giving him a worried look and shifting into a barely noticeable ready position. Exactly how bad WAS that first meeting?

Jason gestures to stand down and closes his eyes. That really doesn't help, so next he works on his breathing, which is kind of a half-assed meditation and that does work. Mostly. Maybe. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just… my head keeps thinking random things that really don't have shit to do with shit.” He opens his eyes to see Tim is nodding slowly, maybe carefully considering the words, even. Naw, more likely he's assessing the level of threat Jason poses.

Should he be flattered? Jason squelches that thought as soon as it's formed, because godDAMN, this is getting annoying. “It's been happening a lot since I woke up,” he continues and blows out a breath (which is becoming a fucking HABIT), as the elevator stops and the door opens. The synthetic tone is obscenely cheerful, as they arrive on the ground floor. No, focus on something that matters. “Ice cream,” he says as he steps out into the... oh, it's the WE building. Or, it looks like the Wayne Enterprises building. It's had a face lift, but everything is roughly where he remembers it.

Jason can't help but gawk a little, as he looks around the lobby. No one seems to be taking particular note of the two teenagers. “I've really missed a lot, huh?” he muses, as he eyes a particularly-hot brunette. Who completely ignores him.

“A lot. There was a plague. Twice. And an earthquake. Then the government blew the bridges and abandoned the city-” Tim stops and blinks at him. Probably because Jason's eyes are wide as hell. Is the kid serious? He doesn't seem to be joking. If anything, he looks tired as he recounts the events. “It's been a messy four years,” the kid concludes.

Jason can’t really do anything but nod. And really, just damn. That's a fuckload of shit. “And I wasn't around for any of that?” He ponders that, as they head through the glass main doors and onto the street. The sun is bright, and obviously, it’s early afternoon. It's normal and just... normal. It's hard to credit that so much shit has happened to his city.

But it is Gotham, so, of course, it has. Some days, he wonders if the universe just hates this place or something.

“Given the timeline... you were um... back before the earthquake hit. But you weren't in Gotham. I think. It's kind of sketchy. You weren't exactly forthcoming with the specifics.” Tim gives a helpless-apologetic even-little shrug. And what the fuck is he supposed to do with that?

Okay, no, focus. The city. He needs to know what is going on now. “Things look back to normal,” he remarks, as he glances about them. The WE building is in the business district, which is pretty well-to-do and looks like it might have seen some recent remodelling, as well. Could it be called gentrification when it's already pretty... pretty?

He snaps his wondering thoughts back into his skull. Is this what it means to have attention deficit disorder? If so, he will NEVER make fun of ADD again! How do people function?!

“More or less. But like Dick said, it's darker now. The criminals are just…” The boy makes a helpless gesture. “The Joker is psychotic. I mean, he's always been messed up, but not this bad. And Dent, well it looked like Bruce might have fixed him, but he totally backslid and now, we aren't sure where he is. There have been a lot of new players too...”

Jason listens as the boy starts going through a mental list of nutjobs that seem to come straight out of his nightmares. Professor Pyg. Dollmaker. A group called the Court of Owls and their assassins. Some guy named Terminus. Jason gives himself a shake, as he feels his eyes glaze over.

The kid stops talking and gives him a sympathetic look. “I have files, if you want all the details,” he offers. “In manageable chunks.”

“Maybe later,” he hears himself saying, before he really thinks about it. But, no, later is good. Later is fine, actually. Jason frowns and he's not sure why. No, he knows. It's all just that overwhelming and there is so much more he can't even begin to touch. He's never wanted a “normal” life as much as he does now.

Looking around, Jason gets his bearings. Okay, that's Vernon Avenue. So that means... “We'll have to get a cab, if we want to go to Romano's.” The twenty will get them there, but not back. Of course, the kid probably has his own funds.

“We can do that. Or…” Tim is looking at him speculatively.

“Or?” Jason prompts, having no idea what the kid is thinking. He does notice that the teen turns them down Falthem Boulevard.

“There's a very nice gelato place four blocks this way.” The boy gestures ahead. Watching the loose way the kid moves, he can see the training, even if Joe Blow on the street doesn’t. Everything about this Tim guy screams preppy casual. But not that he's useless, not in the sense the Brucie is. Which is good, because otherwise, Jason would have to beat him just on principle.

“Gelato?” Jason has of course heard of it, but he's actually never tried it. From what he'd heard, he gathered it was like a gourmet ice cream. It's an odd idea, since ice cream is pretty awesome to begin with.

He's got his hands in his pockets, shoulders down. Jason is oddly relaxed without realizing it. It's just… This seems normal, despite some of it being very new to him. Or is it more that he wants it to be familiar? That makes some amount of sense, since his brain seems to be looking for something to latch onto. Something “normal” would definitely fit that bill, even if it's actually his first time.

Tim smiles at him. It's more in his eyes than his lips, but the good humour is obvious. As well as sly. “Oh, if you haven't had it, you really need to try it.”

Those smiling eyes do it, and Jason has no idea why. Still, he wants to... share this? Naw, not that, but it's as close as he can get in his own head. He knows he wants to do this with Tim and he wants Tim to... enjoy being with him? Where is that feeling coming from? There're a lot of feelings, feelings that seem imperative, that he can't figure out.

He has to conclude that, at the moment, his life is the definition of frustrating. He huffs a sigh, which causes Tim to give him a sidelong look. Is the kid worried? Why would he be worried? Okay, seriously stupid question, expect for how it's not. There are at any number of reasons, and situations which could make Tim concerned. Of course, Jason doesn't remember a lot of the shit Tim and Dick do. He really wants to claw his uncooperative brains out.

When the kid's concerned expression deepens, Jason waves him off. “At this point, just... ignore me if I get stupid.” That gets Tim's eyebrows shooting up into his hair line. “What?”

The boy gives a noncommittal shrug. “I'm not used to you being this reasonable.” Those words sound both surprised and honest, which really isn't comforting.

“Do I want to know what you're used to from me?” Jason tries to keep the words light, but this is getting darker and more ominous by the minute.

Tim gives his head a shake. “No. You had your reasons, but you didn't exactly deal with your issues well.” Could the boy get any more cryptic? Don't throttle him. It won't help anything and it's not the kid's fault that magic seriously sucks ass.

“Let's just go get gelato,” Jason says, with a with a strangled growl. Thankfully, Tim seems happy enough to let things go. If only he could get his own head to do the same. Well, why not try some brain freeze therapy? It certainly can't make things worse. Gelato it is.

The End... for now.
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