(Untitled)

[prodigaljaybird]

Jason's barely set Tim's feet in the direction of the Compound before he's off again, flying through the trees with his tail between his legs.  He almost falls more than once, too much anger, too many rattled nerves diverting his thoughts from where they should be, and by the time he reaches Bucky's hut he's carrying another set of cuts and bruises

Comments

[onlyapassenger]

"What the hell happened to you

[prodigaljaybird]

It's rare that Jason doesn't hear someone coming, but the mace has done its job, and what concentration he can muster is bent entirely on working himself out of a state of fading agony. Still, he doesn't startle at Bucky's voice, even if his fingers work a bit faster to push away the tears flushing his stinging eyes.

"My brother showed up. I punched him in the head and then he maced me," he says succinctly, trusting Bucky to have it out of him whether he wants to explain or not. "S'fine. Just stings."

[onlyapassenger]

As Bucky listens to the brief summation of events, he wonders, idly, just how many times he'll have to clean up after Jason before the kid learns. Which isn't to say he minds taking care of a teenage vigilante with a chip on his shoulder; he doesn't. Of everyone he's met on the Island thus far, Jason's made for good, if at times frustrating, company. But the goal of any good guardian, blood relative or otherwise, is to work themselves out of a job, to shape someone who's prepared for the world at large. For whatever reason, Jason's fallen under his wing; Bucky's only hope is that he doesn't screw up

[prodigaljaybird]

As much as Jason trusts Bucky, pride alone leads him to try standing without aid, only to lean hard against Bucky's shoulder when the disorientation from the mace makes good on its lingering effects.

He hasn't thought about whether anyone else saw, and that's a good thing, Jason's gaze snapping fast and defensive over his shoulder as Bucky leads him inside. "Sidekicks," he says. "We were both Batman's sidekicks, he. When I died, Tim was my replacement." And to Jason's great relief, his throat doesn't close around the words, still too tortured, perhaps, from the burn of chemicals. "He called us Robin."