Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason could hear the commercial fishing boats in the distant, blaring their horns as they arrived with the day’s loads. The smaller boats would be quieter of course, but as he struggled out of bed at 3am, he knows the fishmarket 10 minutes from his shop is just about to open up.

There’d been no gunshots that night, which was always a good sign. That meant any dirty deals in the container port, parked on the other side of his shop, had gone smoothly.

He went through his usual morning routine, and was mostly awake by the time he stumbled down the stairs of his flat.

Although the bakery was right beneath him, the flat was not connected to the shop. Instead, Jason had to brace himself on the public pavement every day, risking his life with the 3 steps it took to get from his front door to the shop.

Perhaps he was paranoid. But the container port was regularly visited by the criminal elements of Gotham. All it took was a single stray bullet from a deal gone wrong.

Jason peeked out of the peephole on his front door. No sign of the Families. No Crazies either. Not that the Crazies tended to bother coming so far out. There weren’t enough people here to be of interest to them. At least not yet.

Maybe in a couple of hours, once the fishmarket hits peak time. By then, Jason would be inside his bakery with its bulletproof windows and walls.

He grabbed his keys, keeping an eye out just in case, and slipped past his front door. He triple locked it, as usual, before turning towards his shop.

Jason nearly had a heart attack at the sight before him.

There, sitting on the floor and leaning against his reinforced glass doors, was a vigilante.

If this was any other city, Jason probably would have blinked sleepily and wondered if he was dreaming.

Given that this was Gotham, Jason’s first reaction was to stumble back towards his front door and glance around to see if there was an escaped Arkham inmate in close proximity. There wasn’t.

He turned back to the vigilante.

It was a teenager, Robin by the looks of it. Though Jason wasn’t sure why there were two ‘R’s on his logo.

The teen was leaning back against the glass of his shopfront. As if he’d dozed off. Or was contemplating the murky clouds of the Gotham night sky. His eyes were open though, so it was a little creepy.

Jason contemplated his options, still feeling incredulous at the masked kid before his eyes. It was the first time he had so much as seen a vigilante in real life. The Bats weren’t like Superman of Metropolis. They didn’t do public appearances.

He hadn’t expected Robin to be so small.

“Hey,” he said. No response. “Hey Robin.”

Robin jolted in place, head snapping in Jason’s direction immediately. With the better angle, Jason realised that there were white lenses attached to the vigilante’s mask.

Perhaps Robin’s eyes hadn’t been open after all.

“Oh,” Robin said, sounding like he’d spent the night holding up the weight of the world. “You’re here.”

Jason paused, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Maybe he was being arrested. “Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I didn’t do it.”

Robin didn’t so much as raise his eyebrows. He simply jabbed a thumb at the bakery. “It says you open at 6am,” Robin said. Then he yawned. “I really need coffee.”

“I don’t know what clock you’re checking, but it’s 3:30 right now,” Jason said.

“Bakeries tend to start baking 3 hours before opening time,” Robin replied.

“There are plenty of 24hr diners around,” Jason replied, even as his mind spun with the fact that he was having a conversation about coffee (and where one should procure it) with a vigilante.

“This was closest.”

Jason let out a frustrated breath.

“I can pay you,” Robin offered. “Pay you extra, I mean. Obviously I’d pay you for the coffee.”

As tempting as that was, Jason wasn’t sure teenage vigilantes should be drinking coffee after a long night of fighting crime. He’s not sure he should be enabling such a habit either. Adult responsibility and all that.

“I’m serious,” Robin said, sounding almost desperate. “I’ve got $200 of cash on me right now.”

That was sort of alarming, for a variety of reasons.

“You carry that much on you regularly?”

“It’s not like I’d get mugged,” Robin deadpanned in response. Jason supposed that was true. He sighed.

Vigilantes being in close proximity were normally bad news. When they weren’t busy being invisible to civilians, they tended to attract attention-seeking homicidal maniacs.

Still, Batman and his flock did good work. Even if Jason didn’t particularly agree with their methods, he could spare 10 minutes to get Robin a cup of coffee.

“Fine,” he grumbled, stepping forward with his shop keys.

Robin moved out of the way, standing up with a fluidity Jason could only dream of achieving. They really were something else.

He unlocked his shop.

“Sit anywhere you want,” Jason said, holding his door open. Once Robin had entered the shop, Jason closed the door and locked it again. He may be okay with getting Robin a cup of coffee, but there was no way he was risking any loons or drunks or homeless dudes getting in.

Thankfully, Robin didn’t comment on his justified paranoia. He simply pulled out a chair and sat down. Jason noticed that he chose a seat where he could easily see both the door and the counter. Smart kid.

“How do you like your coffee?” he asked, turning the machine on.

“Black. Filtered. Double shots.” Robin replied.

That was pretty easy then. “Machine needs to warm up,” he said. Robin simply nodded in response.

Part of Jason wanted to go into the kitchen to turn his ovens on, but there was no way he was leaving a stranger in his shop unsupervised. Vigilante or no.

The silence was awkward though. But it wasn’t like there were any easy conversations to have in this situation. Jason considered his options. And then decided he will simply ask the obvious ones, such as whether there were any imminent danger to the area within the next week or so and if that was why Robin was in the area.

He wondered if vigilantes were allowed to talk about their open cases, or if there were strict codes of confidentiality like the cops (especially the corrupt cops, they loved their secrets).

“So...Robin...” Jason began.

“Red Robin,” Robin corrected.

“What?”

“Red Robin,” Robin repeated. “My name is Red Robin.”

“When did you add a ‘red’ to the beginning?” Jason frowned. “I thought it was Batman and Robin. Not Batman and Red Robin.”

Robin didn’t reply. Simply pressed his lips together and did not speak for several moments.

“It is Batman and Robin. Someone else is Robin at the moment,” Red Robin eventually said, sounding surprisingly calm. Far too calm, as if he was repressing his emotions. That type of calm.

Jason wondered if he’d insulted the kid by this lack of vigilante knowledge. Not that he particularly cared, he never felt any inclinations to follow the movements of the capes. They did good work, but they lacked resolve.

Fortunately, Jason didn’t have to continue the awkward and stilted conversation. The machine was ready, and he made the coffee within minutes before plonking it in front of Red Robin.

He sort of wished he had a pastry to put there too, the kid looked far too skinny for his own good.

“Thank you,” Red Robin said.

Jason nodded and went about tidying up the shop front, still not entirely comfortable with heading into the back, even though he really needed to start on the bread. Red Robin didn’t take long though. And as Jason wondered what else he could do for the front of his shop, there was a decisive click of the front door closing behind him.

He spun around. Red Robin was gone. With nearly no hints of him ever being there. A quick check of the front door revealed that it was locked. Which meant in the few seconds Jason had not been watching the guy, he had managed to unlock the front door, slip out and lock it again. Then disappeared into the night.

Those vigilantes really were something else.

At least he kept his side of the deal, Jason noted, picking up the $200 wad of cash placed neatly under the coffee cup saucer.

For a moment, Jason was once again struck by how surreal the entire situation was. But then he shrugged and headed back into the kitchen. He had bread to bake, and he was already behind schedule.

Chapter Text

Jason doesn’t see Red Robin again for a few months. He doesn’t think much about it, after all, as far as he was concerned, it was a one-off thing where he got $200 for a measly cup of coffee.

Or so he thought. Until one morning, at 3:30am as per Jason’s usual schedule, he came downstairs to find the vigilante sprawled across the ground before his door.

His bakery’s door, not the front door into his apartment.

Not that they were all that far apart.

Jason paused, hesitating. He gave his surroundings a once over, but just like last time, there was no crazy villain about to spray his face with laughing gas.

He shut his front door.

“You here for coffee again or am I a suspect?” Jason said as he inched towards the boy on the ground. From this vantage point, Red Robin really looked barely older than 14.

Red Robin gave a loud groan. He doesn’t lift his head from the crook of his elbow. “Neither,” he said, voice muffled. Then he took his arm away. “Although coffee would be nice.”

“Right,” Jason nodded. “Well you’re in the way of that.”

Red Robin shifted, rolling away from the door with significantly less grace than Jason had previously seen from him. Jason narrowed his eyes.

“You’re not bleeding are you? Because if you are, you’re not stepping anywhere near my shop.” Not that Jason was likely to be able to stop him. He heard the Bats were fierce opponents, even when they were injured. He’d even heard rumours that Batman himself once took down Two Face after being stabbed in the heart.

Of course, Jason had also heard rumours that the Joker once chopped Batman’s head off and still couldn’t stop himself from getting arrested.

“I’m not bleeding,” Red Robin confirmed, patting his thigh with a hand. Then he frowned and looked down. “Correction. I might be bleeding.” And then Red Robin pulled out what appeared to be an entire first aid kit from a pouch on his belt.

Jason stood there stupefied for a moment as Red Robin cut off some stitches on his leg and then proceeded to sew himself back up. Then he realised he was staring and began unlocking his shop.

“I’ll get you a takeout cup,” he said.

---

It becomes a thing. Red Robin sitting outside his bakery before opening time becomes a thing.

Not frequent enough for Jason to expect him with any sort of regularity. But Jason no longer jumped when he saw the vigilante leaning (usually half-asleep) against his shop door.

As if the first encounter had been an unspoken contract, Red Robin would slip $200 under an empty coffee cup each time. It was a pretty nice bonus.

Jason had gotten so used to him in the front of his shop these days, he would make the coffee and go around back to start on his baking. That was easier for both of them. No awkward small talk or stilted silences. Jason didn’t even need to adjust his schedule all that much.

If Red Robin was injured or bleeding in any way, Jason got him a takeout cup. Vigilante and welcomed customer or no, he was not having blood in his shop. Nope. That was like a contamination disaster waiting to happen. Especially with the Rogues of Gotham likely to slip the latest biochemical marvel into vigilante bloodstreams.

“I’m not infected,” Red Robin rolled his eyes one evening as Jason handed him his takeout cup. “It’s just a nick.”

Jason’s not sure when he’d begun able to tell when Red Robin was rolling his eyes underneath that mask, but he could and there was no point questioning it.

“Not risking it,” Jason replied promptly. He silently noted with happiness that Red Robin still gave him $200 regardless of whether he sat in the shop or not. Jason wondered if the kid just didn't like counting bills.

Then he started wondering what kind of guardian Batman was, to hand out $200 as pocket money regularly enough that Red Robin was happy to fork it over for a single cup of coffee.

Red Robin had been coming over with increasing frequency over the last few weeks too. Jason wondered how much money Batman had.

We all knew Batman must have a backer of some sort, how else would he afford the Batmobile. And his submarine.

In fact, didn’t Vicki Vale once write about a Batplane rescuing her from being dropped off the bridge? Even most rich folks couldn’t afford a private plane.

Not that Jason would know.

He was contemplating this one morning when, just as he was about to open his front door, gunshots rang out in the air.

Shots that sounded far too close to his street.

Jason immediately duck down to the ground. His front door wasn’t bulletproof, not like his shop front, but it was better than nothing.

There were a few grunts, a couple of screams, a lot of dull thuds that could be due to any number of reasons. And then sirens in the distant.

Cautiously, Jason stood up and peeked through the peephole. He couldn’t see much, but that was definitely a flash of red.

It was nearing 3:40 at this rate, he had to get started on the baking soon or he’ll be late. One of the bigger fishing boats were due back this morning too, so his bakery was likely to be busier than usual.

But running out and getting shot wasn’t really an option either.

Slowly, Jason snuck back up the stairs. He very carefully made his way over to his window in a crouch and peeked through the curtains.

There were about 12 Suits outside. One of the Families then.

Jason couldn’t really tell which family. Not when they were all tied up and dangling from the lampposts like that, but given the number and the artillery, he would imagine one of the bigger ones. Maybe even Maroni or Falcone.

Red Robin was there, twirling a metal staff around casually as he slowly approached the last Suit standing. The Suit had a machete in his hand.

Jason’s windows weren’t bulletproof either, but they were gloriously triple-glazed, a surprise Jason hadn’t expected when he bought the place along with the shop. While that was brilliant at keeping the cold out, it also meant he couldn’t hear a word that was being said.

And Red Robin was definitely speaking. Saying something to the Suit. Taunting him maybe? Or asking him questions.

The Suit didn’t respond. Just stood there, and then charged.

Jason stood up in alarm. He wanted to shout, to yell, to do something because the guy had a giant knife in his hand, was nearly twice the size of the kid, and likely had a whole lifetime of experience in fighting.

Red Robin didn’t seem worried though. In fact, he barely reacted to the charge, only giving a small sigh as his shoulders drooped slightly.

He sidestepped the Suit, the machete missing him by a mile, then thunked the guy on the head.

Just as the police car pulled up.

Red Robin spoke with the cops for a moment. Then he pulled out some sort of device from his belt, shot something off into the air, then disappeared in a single movement.

Well, Jason knew the kid was a vigilante. He must also have been good to get promoted into Red Robin and allowed to go solo without the protection of Batman.

Yet there was something incredible about seeing that scrawny kid face off against actual henchmen. Men that had guns and were taller and theoretically stronger and had more muscles.

Jason hadn’t realised it, but he’d associated Red Robin with the sleepyhead that begged for coffee in front of his shop. The familiarity had softened the image of the vigilante. He’d almost forgotten that before the kid was at his shop, he would have been swooping around Gotham and fighting crime.

It was sort of amazing that Jason saw someone like that even semi-regularly. That someone so respectable would associate themselves with Jason.

Even if it was just because Jason made him coffee without question these days.

The police took their time in rounding up the Suits on Jason’s streets.

He didn’t dare leave his flat until everyone had cleared out, not wanting to be questioned or known to be in the area for any reason. That meant he didn’t get into his bakery until 4:30. A whole hour later than usual.

There was no way he was going to get all his bread baked in time. Some of the dough was going to be unusable and wasted too.

Jason swore to himself as he hurried around the kitchen. He couldn’t hurry too much, least he affected the quality of his goods, but he could speed certain things up a little. It wouldn’t help that much, an hour was a long time to not prep, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He was so busy cursing the Families that it wasn’t until he was setting up the front of the store, warming up the coffee machine and grumbling to himself, that he noticed the envelope sitting on top of his cash register.

Jason blinked.

He paused in his manic rushing about and opened the envelope. Then he nearly dropped it in shock.

There was an entire wad of cash in there. All $100 bills. Plus a note.

“Sorry for cutting into your baking time. Here’s some compensation for your lost sales.”

Jason swallowed thickly. The logical part of him was immediately relieved. It meant he wouldn’t have to scrap around to make the bank repayments that month. But the emotional part of him was a mix of confused, conflicted and concerned.

It was clear the envelope was from Red Robin, but why? Red Robin didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to compensate him just because the Families were causing a fuss near this stretch of the harbour.

In fact, why was he even giving Jason money? Did it look like he needed charity?! He was a working man. Not some homeless louse begging on the streets.

At the same time, it was thoughtful of Red Robin to be aware of the impact his vigilantism would have on the surrounding neighbourhood.

Not to mention the kid apparently cared enough about Jason’s wellbeing and livelihood to help him out.

This was the first time since his mother died that Jason had anyone voluntarily help him as an individual. To be considerate of his life. As much as the idea of charity - and Red Robin apparently being rich enough to throw $100 bills at acquaintances - rankled and irritated him, Jason also felt strangely...happy.

It was weird.

The happiness was soon followed by suspicion. What was Red Robin’s ulterior motive.

It took less than a second for Jason to conclude there wasn’t any. Because it was pretty clear what Red Robin’s motivation was. Jason’s bakery was the nearest place to the docks that could supply fresh coffee at 3am in the morning. It was in Red Robin’s interest to help keep it in business.

Just like Batman, Jason now had an unofficial financial backer.

All because he had a coffee machine.

Shrugging, and slipping the envelope full of bills into the safe beneath the cash register, Jason returned to opening his shop.

His rep will still take a slight hit from selling out too soon that morning, but he had no competitors in the immediate area, so the customers should still visit his shop regularly enough. His bakery was going to survive for a little longer yet.

Chapter Text

One day, Red Robin visited the bakery at 5:30am.

Jason had been arranging the bread baskets, the remaining dough either in the ovens or rising in the bins, when he turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“How long have you been sitting there?!” he couldn’t help but yelp.

Red Robin didn’t even look up. Nor did he bother lifting his head from where it was slumped on the table at his usual spot. “About 6 and a half minutes or so. Give or take 10 seconds.”

Jason wasn’t sure how to reply to that.

“Have you been up all night?” he asked. It was a Thursday. A school day. It couldn’t be healthy for Red Robin to be awake until 5:30am on a school night.

Or a school day.

Or a school week.

Jason frowned. Now that he thought about it, being up until 3:30am can’t be all that healthy either.

“Yeah...” Red Robin said, clearly fighting against sleep valiantly. “I have an exam later.”

Jason pulled a face. Definitely not a good idea to take an exam whilst sleep deprived.

“Can I have some coffee please?” Red Robin asked, voice almost meek. It was a big difference from the usual nonchalance. He must be tired.

More tired than usual that was. Since Red Robin always looked about to fall over when he visited Jason’s bakery.

“Er, yeah, sure.” Jason was finished with the main prep for the morning. This was when he would take a break and have breakfast. “You want the usual?” he asked, because the situation itself was very not the usual.

“Please,” Red Robin said. He still hadn’t raised his head from the table. Jason was starting to get worried.

“Any particular reason why you’re here at 5:30 instead?” Jason asked a few moments later as he placed the coffee in front of the vigilante. “On an exam day at that.”

“Dollmaker,” was all Red Robin said, before he reverently picked up the coffee cup.

“Um, what?”

“A villain. He kidnaps children and...you probably don’t want to know the details.”

“I...see...”

Red Robin seems entirely too preoccupied with his coffee. Although Jason wasn’t a huge advocate of caffeine addiction (or any sort of addiction for that matter), he made another cup and placed it in front of the teenage vigilante.

“You allergic to anything?” Jason asked.

“Hmm?”

“Are you allergic to anything. I’m about to make some breakfast.”

Red Robin looked startled. “Oh...no, you don’t have to.”

“Can’t be taking exams on an empty stomach,” Jason replied. He began walking back towards the kitchens. He paused in the doorway, giving Red Robin an expectant look until the vigilante shook his head.

“No, I’m not allergic to anything.”

Jason’s shop was predominantly a bakery. But he had a small stove in the corner for his own food. Sasha was always asking why he didn’t extend his bakery into a full-on cafe. To sell things like bacon butties or sausage rolls. Especially since he already had a coffee machine. But Jason didn’t want to stray too far from the baking.

He grabbed some ingredients out of his fridge and made a pair of egg, bacon and sausage sandwiches. Using freshly baked baguettes. He already had plates for if the patrons wanted to eat their bread and coffee, so he grabbed a couple of those and did his best to make everything presentable.

Then he stared and frowned and wondered why he was even bothering. The teenager sitting outside seemed barely able to keep his eyes open right now.

Jason shrugged, grabbed the plates and nudge the kitchen door open.

Red Robin had already finished his first cup of coffee and was making quick work of the second cup. Jason pulled a face at the caffeine reliance.

“Here,” he said, putting a plate in front of him. “Eat.” Then he sat down opposite and dug into his own sandwich.

Red Robin stared at the food. A strange and indecipherable expression on his face.

“Something wrong?” Jason asked, slowly chewing his sandwich. Maybe the kid was a vegetarian. He should have checked.

But Red Robin simply shook his head again. “No,” he said, rather forcefully. Then a softer, “no, this is great. Thank you.” He picked up his own sandwich and began to eat.

For a while, there was nothing but the sounds of them chewing through their breakfast. The silence wasn’t awkward though. Somehow, there was an air of calm between them. A comfortable companionship.

It suddenly occurred to Jason that he hadn’t eaten like this with someone else for years. Prior to getting his bakery, his sole focus had been in learning the craft and earning enough money for the aforementioned bakery.

Before that, he had been living on the streets. During which he had only thought about surviving.

Surviving and avoid getting suckered in to the drug trade.

The problem with being a homeless kid with nowhere to go and no one to protect you, was that everyone wanted a piece of you. The Families wanted you as their runner. The drug lords wanted you to sell their products. The pimps wanted to sell you.

Everyone else wanted you as a spy or a lookout or to crawl through small windows. Children were free labour.

Not just that, children were free labour that didn’t do any significant jail time if caught.

If by some chance, a homeless kid was found by an honest cop or even social services, then they were placed into the foster care system or an orphanage. Another trap. Another cage to break out of.

As a result, Jason actively avoided all contact with humans when he was kicked out onto the streets. He avoided the gangs, the thieves and even the small clusters of innocent homeless families down on their luck, huddled around a metal bin of burning fire.

He thought only about getting food, water and a warm corner to sleep in.

He broke into empty and derelict apartments. Sold a few stolen tires to local garages where he could. Running away whenever he started gathering attention.

It was a common way of life for the homeless children of Gotham.

So focused had he been on surviving, Jason barely spoke two words to anyone for years. There was a time he was convinced he’d forgotten how to talk properly. Nevermind actually sitting and eating with anyone.

If someone approached him when Jason was eating, chances were that a fistfight would break out over the food. That happened a lot too.

The suspicion around those who approached him while he ate was a habit he carried with him, even when his life started to take a turn for the better.

And once he got his bakery up and running, the only one around he could have plausibly eaten with was Sasha, his shop assistant. But they always staggered their breaks so someone could watch the bakery. And Sasha always rushed off home as soon as her shifts ended. To look after her sick dad.

That meant the last time he ever actually had a meal with someone...was when his mother was alive.

It was a rather depressing thought.

He shoved that piece of revelation to the side and turned his attention back to his food. Then to the vigilante sitting opposite him.

Red Robin was still staring at his sandwich. He’d taken maybe one or two bites, and was now simply staring at it.

If Jason didn’t know any better, he would have thought the kid was about to cry.

Which was stupid. Who would cry over a sandwich?

Correction. Who would cry over a sandwich when they regularly gave away $200 for a cup of coffee. Jason had felt plenty emotional when he had first been able to eat regularly, but he felt that was pretty justified given his childhood.

Maybe he just didn’t like the sandwich. Jason hesitated as he paused in his chewing.

“You want brown sauce or something?” Jason asked. “I have brown sauce. Or ketchup.”

“No,” Red Robin replied immediately. “I’m sorry. It’s just. It’s been a while since I ate with someone.”

“Oh.”

Jason wasn’t sure what to say so he stuffed the last bit of his baguette into his mouth. Red Robin took a bite of his own food. As they sat there in companionable silence, a thought occurred to Jason.

“You never eat with your family?” he asked, as he dusted his hands, remnants of his breakfast on his plate.

“My father died last year,” Red Robin said. His tone was extremely matter-of-fact. “My mother when I was 11.”

“Oh.” Jason shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

One year wasn’t really a long time. But Jason didn’t push. He wanted to ask what about Batman, but it was clear that Batman was not actually Red Robin’s father. The kid was still a kid though. It seemed sort of unbelievable that he lived on his own.

At any rate, Red Robin was now chomping through his food at a pretty healthy pace. Jason didn’t want to interrupt him.

When Red Robin was done, Jason stacked the plates and took them back into the kitchen. In the ten seconds it took him to grab the cleaning supplies to wipe down the table, Red Robin disappeared. Like usual.

Jason stared at the empty seat. At the bills under the now empty stack of coffee cups. And sighed.

He felt his heart swell strangely with an unidentified emotion at the sight. At the thought of this orphan kid, regularly fighting against supervillains when he should be more worried about passing his exams.

A kid that, despite doing so much for others, ate alone. Because he had no family left.

Jason stood there, swallowing against the tightness in his throat, in his chest. He pushed the emotions down. Down and away where it couldn’t bother anyone.

Red Robin didn’t need anyone to look after him. He could look after himself. That was plenty clear. But Jason couldn’t help but want to bundle him up and take him home and feed him warm soup and bread. To lock away his costume so he could spend nights stressing about mundane things like a normal kid.

Not that Jason had experienced a ‘normal’ childhood himself. But he had seen how kids with family and stable income lived when he had been on the streets. Plus, he’s made inferences from the problems Sasha often complained about. Schoolwork, teachers etc. And he’s read plenty of contemporary fiction to hazard a guess.

None of his books ever mentioned dressing up in a costume at night and fighting criminals as part of a normal childhood. Or, if he was reading urban fantasy, the books would often highlight how that was not a normal childhood.

For now, however, Jason settled for clearing away the table, picking up the bills Red Robin left ($500 this time) and getting his bakery ready for opening time.

Chapter Text

“You’ve got to stop giving me so much money,” was the first thing Jason said when he found Red Robin outside his shop door. It’s been about two weeks since their impromptu breakfast, and Red Robin have been dropping by every single day.

The kid was standing for once. His green, yellow and red costume looking ridiculously bright even in the weak light from the temperamental streetlamps.

“You’ve never complained before,” Red Robin said, moving out of the way as Jason unlocked the door.

“I’m not complaining,” Jason clarified. “But it’s getting ridiculous. You can’t give me $200 every day just for making you coffee.”

“It’s not every day,” Red Robin said, following Jason into the shop. “You’re closed on Mondays.”

“The point still stands,” Jason replied. He turned on the coffee machine.

Red Robin didn’t speak for a moment. Jason didn’t think much of it as he made the kid his usual. The kid didn’t speak until Jason set his coffee down in front of him.

“What would be an appropriate amount then?” Red Robin asked.

Jason gave him a funny look. “Are you kidding me?”

“You don’t exactly have a pre-open time price list.”

“Just pay what’s on the board,” Jason rolled his eyes. Then he went around the back to start on the bread.

When he came back out, Red Robin was gone as per usual. There was a $20 dollar note under the cup, which was still way more than what Jason charged for a single cup of coffee. But since this was the first time, Jason decided it was a win.

That was until he noticed the tips jar, full to the brim with scrunched up notes. Jason emptied it, smoothed the notes out, and counted everything. $20 for the coffee, $180 for the tip, $200 in total.

An amused smirk tugged at his lips. “Brat.”

---

Red Robin returned the next morning. He looked unphased and unrepentant even as Jason gave him a stern glare. But Jason was prepared this time. He’d hidden the tips jar in one of the cupboards. He’d even locked the door. Although it felt a little excessive, he decided he better not take any chances.

There was no random stash of cash on any of the surfaces when he came back out to grab the empty cup. The crisp note underneath the cup was another $20. And for the rest of the morning, Jason had been feeling pretty smug for getting Red Robin to agree to a new arrangement so quickly.

That feeling lasted until Jason was about to open the shop. He knelt down and unlocked the cupboard to get the tips jar out, only to see it once again stuffed full of purposely crumpled up notes. This time, there was even a little post-it note saying “Nice try :P ”.

Jason let out a gruff groan. He took the notes out, smoothed them into a neat stack and tried to think of his options. Clearly he had underestimated Red Robin’s lock picking skills.

Or perhaps the rumour that Bats had the ability to phase through walls held some level of truth. That would certainly explain how Red Robin managed to go past the locked shop door without a single sound every morning.

Maybe it was too obvious. I should hide it somewhere less noticeable.

Not the kitchen. He didn’t want to risk contamination. Especially from someone who have been goodness-knows-where fighting goodness-knows-who. But there were other places in the shop.

He could always put the tips jar inside his flat. Although, the thought of that made him shudder. He wasn’t sure what he’d do about the knowledge, or rather the proof, that Red Robin could probably easily break into his private quarters.

Just hide it somewhere less obvious for now, Jason thought to himself. Maybe somewhere high up. Take advantage of the height difference.

It was with that thought in mind that Jason hid the tips jar in one of the upper cupboards. And when that failed, he hid it next to the special vents he’d installed in the ceiling. And then when that failed, under the special floorboards of the shop.

Each time, Red Robin would dutifully find the jar and placed $180 worth of crumpled up notes inside it. Each time, there was an accompanying note, which got increasingly more condescending as time went on. Ranging from “nope ” and “too easy ” to “are you even trying? ” and “this was the easiest yet ”.

Jason even started hiding the tips jar in the storage cupboard. He placed it inside a cardboard box and sealed the box up with tape. Red Robin still found it. Red Robin even had the nerve to reseal the box with new tape.

It was doing Jason’s head in.

Eventually, after two weeks of hiding his tips jar and collecting a gigantic stack of money that the logical part of Jason was screaming at him to take to the bank, Jason gave in and resorted to desperate measures.

He took the tips jar home and locked it deep inside of his flat. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should have invested in a safe for his flat. He had a safe in the shop, but it was too small for the tall and bulky tips jar. And as much as he liked the idea of having a safe in his flat, it was too expensive of a luxury to indulge in.

He was a nervous wreck the next morning, though he did his best not to show it. Red Robin was courteous enough not to mention it either. And they went through the morning routine as per usual.

Jason expected Red Robin to execute his usual disappearing act. But when he came back out to the shop floor, Red Robin was standing by the till.

“Your tips jar appears to have left the premises,” Red Robin said with such a knowing tone that Jason had no doubt the kid knew exactly where the jar was currently located. “In the interest of maintaining boundaries, here’s money and tip for the coffee,” the kid said, holding out a wad of cash.

Jason blinked. He hadn’t really expected this. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, mostly been fearful and also berating himself for doing something so drastic. But he felt a swell of relieve in his heart that Red Robin did not break into his flat to continue this little game of theirs.

He stared at the money being offered and shook his head. “It’s on the house.” 

“I’d rather pay.”

“You have paid,” Jason replied, pulling out the giant wad of tips that he’d been carrying for just such an occasion. He waved it in Red Robin’s direction now. “Even if I say the price of a single cup of coffee was $20 dollars, the money here is enough for another 72 cups at the very least.”

“Those were tips. For an exceptional service.” Red Robin said. He was clearly enjoying this, his tone was teasing and light and more energetic than Jason has heard. This kid was probably the type that got a rush from going to Debate Club. Or even arguing in general.

Or perhaps it was just the fact that they were having a regular conversation. Jason vaguely pondered if Red Robin had friends at school to debate with. Not that any vigilante worth their salt would share details of their personal life. But he couldn’t help wondering if the kid was clinging onto Jason’s bakery as a means of social interaction.

That was probably unfair to the kid. Jason didn’t know anything about him. Not really. Red Robin could be leading a superhero team for all Jason knew. He could be surrounded by friends. Perhaps Jason was just projecting his own loneliness onto the kid.

None of that mattered to the problem at hand of course.

“I cannot,” Jason said, enunciating as clearly and slowly as he could manage, “in good conscience, accept $200 for a cup of coffee every morning.”

“Sure you can,” Red Robin grinned. “You’ll get used to it in no time!”

“The bank is going to get suspicious.”

“No it won’t. It’s a consistent and regular increase, your business have simply improved.”

“Honestly, the whole thing makes me nervous. Like I owe you or something.”

It was like watching a bonfire being doused. The easy-going smile dropped away in an instant. Like a curtain snapping shut, cutting off the sunlight that had been previously streaming into the room.

Jason felt his skin crawl at the uneasy sight before him. Red Robin’s expression was distant, removed. It was like an impenetrable mask and slipped into place and the whole thing was chilling Jason to the bone. But he wasn’t going to back down from this.

With a movement faster than Jason could follow with his eyes, Red Robin snatched the wad of tips in Jason’s hand.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Red Robin said. He pulled out a single $20 bill and slapped it down on the counter. “For the coffee.”

Then, the vigilante left the shop. The little bell above the door ringing for once at his exit.

Chapter Text

Red Robin does not appear at the shop the next morning. Not that Jason particularly expected him to. Given the frigid way he left, Jason wouldn’t be surprised if Red Robin didn’t reappear for at least a week. Possibly even longer.

In fact, there was even a chance that he never returned to the shop again. Red Robin might find another shop to fulfil his early morning coffee cravings. Customers have left his shop for less after all. Customers were fickle creatures to begin with. Humans were fickle creatures to begin with.

Jason slammed the dough down on the counter with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. He stopped and took a slow, deep breath to calm himself. It wouldn’t do for his bread to lose its quality just because one of his regular customers got a bit huffy for no apparent reason.

Gritting his teeth, Jason tried not to growl to himself as he carefully moulded the dough into a ball. What was that kid’s problem anyway? Jason tried to do the right thing and what did he get for it? An icy temper tantrum. Didn’t Red Robin know Jason was just trying to look out for him?

What was Batman going to say when he found out his sidekick was spending an extortionate amount of money to feed his coffee addiction? In fact, a school kid shouldn’t be addicted to coffee in the first place! What was he even-

Jason broke himself off from the useless, spiralling thoughts. The dough was perfectly round already. He should leave it alone for further proving and move onto the next piece. In fact, he wasn’t even following his usual, clinical methodology right now to begin with.

He took another deep breath. It didn’t help much. The anger was still simmering beneath his skin, threatening to break free. Which Jason was not going to let happen. He worked hard to get to where he was. He wasn’t going to jeopardize that just because some uppity vigilante didn’t understand the concept of equivalent exchange.

Jason paused, hand on his hips as he stared up at his ceiling. He didn’t know how it felt to have someone owe him. He’d always been on the other side of those equations. When his mother was alive, they constantly owed their landlord rent. His father too, his father was constantly owing people money.

Owing people wasn’t a feeling Jason wanted to experience ever again. Bank loan notwithstanding. Besides the loan was a solid contract. He had legal papers about his repayment plan and everything. It wasn’t the same as owing some vigilante that appeared and disappeared as he pleased.

Jason dropped the next piece of dough on the counter.

---

The following day was a Monday. Ports Bakery was shut on a Monday. It’s Jason’s one day off in the week and he pretty much always goes to the library.

Today was no different. Jason let himself have his weekly lie-in, cooked himself a delicious breakfast (fluffy pancakes with blueberries and bacon and syrup), and then grabbed his jacket, picked up his bike and carefully walked down the stairs to his front door.

He hesitated at the door. It was 7:30am. Red Robin should be on his way to school right now. He wouldn’t be sitting outside Jason’s shop. Besides, Red Robin knew the bakery was shut on Mondays.

He peeked out of the peephole anyway. Nothing. Not that Jason could see the front of the shop from this vantage point. The peephole didn’t even let him see anyone crouching down at the foot of the door. Sasha told him that her neighbour had recently invested in a camera with their new doorbell. If Jason had any actual visitors, he might have thought that was a worthwhile investment.

For now though, he gripped his keys between his fingers and opened the door.

The street was empty, as per usual. It was 7:30am after all. And this road wasn’t really a place people wandered into for a walk. Jason stepped out into the crisp morning air and turned to lock up his flat.

He purposefully does not look over to his right, where his shop was located. Not until he’d triple-checked that every lock on his door was engaged.

And then he very casually glanced at the front of his shop.

Nothing.

Nobody was there. Of course not. What was Jason expecting.

He mentally shook his head at himself and tucked his keys into his jacket pocket. The Angler’s next to him had already brought out his wares. Jason carefully does not look at them either, least he got accused of wanting to steal something. In fact, he does not look around at all as he pushed his bike down onto the road.

Nothing was amiss from what he could see from the corner of his eyes. Just the usual, desolate looking row of shops on this little strip of a road between the fishmarket and the container ports. People only came down here for necessities.

Clipping on his helmet, Jason glanced up at his windows for a final check that they were all shut, and then began the long bike ride towards Gotham’s Central Library.

---

The screams started before the explosions did. And the first thought Jason had was ‘Why today?’ Which was a pretty stupid thought. Gotham had some sort of criminal activity somewhere in the city every single day. A better question would have been ‘Why the library?’

Because honestly, they didn’t even have a group of school kids in the library today. It was the worst place to find hostages.

Like any Gothamite with even a semblance of survival instinct, the moment Jason heard screams, he ran in the opposite direction. He crouched down to avoid potential sprays of bullets and covered his mouth in a probably futile attempt to ward off any potential gas attacks.

It was hard to tell what you’d get with the Gotham villain crew. Screams and explosions followed most of them. It’s what comes after that was always worrying. Unlike with the Capes, Jason has read up everything he could get his hands on when it came to the Gotham Rogues.

He hoped it wasn’t the Joker. Or Scarecrow. Poison Ivy or Penguin he could probably deal with. And there’s always a 50% chance of surviving Two Face.

Of course, if it was one of the mobs, he was a deadman. But that was unlikely right? Why would Falcone or Maroni attack a library when there’s absolutely no one of importance there.

No. An attack on a public building at 2pm in the afternoon was likely one of the Crazies. Poison Ivy had held the library hostage about 5 months ago, citing that the amount of books in the building was an insult to vegetation or some such. Jason hadn’t been there. But he remembered reading it on his news app.

Considering no plants were shooting out from the ground, it was unlikely to be her. Which was a pity. Last time, Commissioner Gordan had managed to talk her down without even calling Batman. The whole thing had blown over in an hour and the library reopened the very next day.

‘As if I’d be so lucky,’ Jason thought to himself, ducking behind one of the sturdier bookshelves in the back.

The screams had come from the only door out of the library, and the windows were too high for Jason to reach them without being noticed and probably shot down. He could see the other patrons, all sweating and grimacing, but staying silent and hidden like him. They were Gothamites, this was just another day.

Jason couldn’t see much from his hiding spot. The Gotham Central Library was the biggest library in the city. It boasts an amazing maze of shelves. This was great to huddle behind. Not so great for seeing what was going on.

‘It better not be Firefly,’ Jason suddenly thought. Because if it was, high chance they were all dead. A single attack from the villain and the whole library would go up in smokes. It was tough to repress the shudder that came with the thought. Even though the explosions had sounded like they came from outside.

More screams, closer now. Inside. A maniacal laughter. Jason swallowed down the bile that was threatening to choke him. Joker? Was it the Joker. No, don’t jump to conclusions, lots of the Crazies laughed like that.

“Drop your books! And prepare to COWER before the uncanny Condiment King !!!” a clear and distinct voice called out at the library.

Jason felt his entire body sag down in relief. It wasn’t the Joker. Thank goodness. In fact, who the hell is the Condiment King? Did he shoot condiments at people? Were those bombs he heard just extreme explosions of ketchup and mustard?

Just like that, Jason’s heart rate sped back up. The books were going to get damaged! He didn’t want to read books covered with ketchup and mustard. Couldn’t the guy have picked a place that would be easily hosed down once he was arrested? Like a carwash or something?

“I hereby hold ALL of you hostage. Now stan-” a strange squeal echoed along the bookshelves. And then a grunt. “You hit me!” Condiment King said, sounding rather indignant. Jason wondered if it was one of the librarians.

Either way, it didn’t look like his life was in any danger, which was good. And someone was clearly stopping Condiment King from sullying the books, which was better. The rest of the citizens were getting up too, much more relaxed now that they know it wasn’t one of Gotham’s Crazies. Not one of its true Crazies anyway. A guy calling himself Condiment King was plenty crazy by himself.

Jason wondered if he should find out what exactly was happening at the front. See which upstanding librarian was responsible for protecting the library’s books or whether he should wait it out to minimize risk. Just in case this Condiment King guy was actually brainwashed by the Mad Hatter or something.

A familiar voice made that decision for him.

“Yes, I hit you,” Red Robin’s voice was full of exasperated resignation. As if he would prefer to be anywhere but there. And Jason was running before he could even compute whether it was a good idea.

“How could you hit me?” Condiment King was saying, sounding far too surprised for a villain who was only moments before trying to take a library hostage.

There was a crowd near the entrance of the library. Most of them had their phones out. If Jason had been even an inch shorter, he wouldn’t have been able to see anything at all. As it was, he only caught the barest glimpses of Red Robin tying up this guy wearing the most stupid costume and holding what appeared to be...a ketchup gun?

Jason didn’t know, he didn’t really care about the villain-wannabe. Red Robin was getting up from his crouch. Should Jason call out to him? What would he even say? And it’s not like Jason particularly want the world to know that Red Robin visited his bakery at 3am in the morning on a regular basis.

All this ran through Jason’s brain as Red Robin straightened up. The vigilante turned to the crowd, raising his hand in a small wave. And in that moment, their eyes met. Or rather, Jason’s eyes met those blank lenses on Red Robin’s mask. But he could tell that Red Robin could see him standing right there.

Jason opened his mouth, but still didn’t know what to say. And the fact that there was an entire crowd of cheering, clapping citizens between them wasn’t particularly helping matters.

Sirens were ringing closer. Red Robin turned away and tugged Condiment King to his feet, guiding him out of the library doors. Jason watched him go without a word.

---

Red Robin was standing outside the shop the next morning. Jason blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

The vigilante looked nervous, more nervous than Jason had ever seen him. And as Jason approached he seemed to brace himself for something.

Jason didn’t have to wait long to know what Red Robin was bracing himself for, because he’d barely walked two steps before the kid was talking.

“I didn’t know you were there,” Red Robin said, words tumbling out as if he had little control over them. It was very unlike him. “I didn’t know you were there okay. I didn’t go there to save you or anything. You don’t have to think you owe me for that either. I would have done it anyway. And you’re right, there are lots of other 24 diners around here, and I’m sorry for bothering you I’m going to go to those from now on.”

Oh. Jason felt a strange sense of understanding pass through him at that rush of explanation Red Robin blurted out in basically a single breath.

It was ridiculous of course, vigilantes went around saving people whether they wanted to be saved or not. Jason’s seen enough news reports about them catching citizens who tried jumping off the many tall buildings of Gotham. Jason hadn’t considered a single ulterior motive at the library.

Superheroes saved people. It’s been that way since before Jason was born.

There seemed to be some deeper trauma around obligation and whatnot with Red Robin, but Jason wasn’t a shrink. He didn’t know how to psycho-analyse people. Or even know how to help. He didn’t know what he could say that would ease whatever pain it was that Red Robin was holding tangled up inside of him. Was there anything he could say? Probably not.

“So...yeah,” Red Robin said after a moment of silence. It didn’t take a shrink to see the dejection radiating off him.

Jason sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Red Robin was hugging his arms and looking at the ground.

“You know, I got a new item for sale,” Jason said.

Red Robin didn’t respond.

“Pre-opening time coffee. Black, filtered, double shot. $20 per cup.”

Red Robin tentatively looked up at him.

“You want one?”

There was another pause. But then Red Robin slowly smiled. A small, hesitant smile.

“Sure,” Red Robin said.

“Alright then,” Jason said. He unlocked the door to his bakery and held it open. “After you.”

Chapter Text

Red Robin was inside the shop before Jason so much as unlocked the door. Jason startled in surprise, then frowned at the scattering of bolts and screws and wires and motherboards strewn all around the teen.

He pulled the door open carefully.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked, not wanting to step inside in case he tread on something sharp. Or something important.

“Jason, you’re early!” Red Robin exclaimed, looking sort of disheveled. Jason still had no idea what the hell the vigilante was doing sitting on his shop floor with bits of metal everywhere.

He grimaced, he was going to have to mop the floor before opening today. Great.

“It’s 3:30,” Jason said, looking down and trying to find a clear patch of ground so he wasn’t standing in the doorway. It didn’t help that the various bits of metal were all pretty small and tiny and easily kicked under the drinks fridge or worse, the cakes counter.

“It can’t be, I just got here,” Red Robin frowned, tapping something on his wrist. Jason nearly jumped out of his skin when a neon green hologram shot up into the air, showing the numbers 3:31. “Oh...” Another hesitant pause. “I’ll clean up,” Red Robin said quickly.

Jason wasn’t sure what the kid was going to do, if he was going to crawl along the ground sweeping bits of metal. He briefly wondered if he should offer Red Robin his dustpan and brush.

Instead, Red Robin pulled something out of a pocket from his utility belt. It wasn’t a device that was familiar to Jason, but he watched as Red Robin switched it on. The device whirred ominously.

Then suddenly every tiny bit of metal in front of the device shot towards it. Red Robin turned slowly in a circle, whilst staying completely seated. If Jason wasn’t so distracted by the way the pieces of whatevers were flying towards the machine like some crazy sci-fi book, he might have been flabbergasted by the way the vigilante moved without looking like he was moving.

“What the hell was that?” Jason yelped when the floor in front of him was clear enough to step on. He shut the shop door behind him, locking it in place.

“What do you mean?” Red Robin frowned.

“That...thing in your hand,” Jason waved at it.

“Oh this? It’s just a vacuum.”

Jason gaped. He’d never seen a vacuum so small and yet so powerful at the same time. Not that he’s seen many vacuums in his lifetime. Nor was he a scientist by any means.

“A very strong vacuum,” Red Robin clarified when Jason didn’t reply. “Which I maneuvered to only pick up what I want.”

“Right...” Jason said. He didn’t care anymore. As familiar as Red Robin was getting, every now and then he’d do something like this that reminded Jason that vigilantes lived in a different world. “Usual?”

“Yes please,” Red Robin beamed. Jason resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. One, he was a customer, and two, the kid might flip him onto the ground as an automatic reaction. Jason didn't want to risk a concussion.

Instead, he turned on the coffee machine.

“You staying for breakfast?” Jason asked.

“Probably not, there’s a pop quiz today and I haven’t read the book assignment yet.” Red Robin was still on the floor, Jason noticed. He had a screwdriver in one hand and was poking at some metal gauntlet-looking thing.

That was the other thing Jason wasn’t used to. Apparently Red Robin was a genius. A bonafide genius. As if being a crime fighting vigilante wasn’t enough.

By the time Jason had finished the coffee, Red Robin had settled down at his usual table.

“Any reason why you’re updating your gear in my shop?”

“It’s not my gear,” Red Robin replied. “It’s a weapon confiscated from a world-famous assassin. I was examining it.”

Jason didn’t really know what to say to that. Not for the first time he wondered if it was a good idea for Red Robin to share info like this with him. But it’s not like Jason was going to go hunt for a world-famous assassin for no reason. And the details of the Bats’ enemies had always been common knowledge.

Besides, there were more important questions to ask.

“Did you take it into the kitchen?” he asked.

Red Robin rolled his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Just checking,” Jason said as he headed to the back to start on the bread.

---

It turned into a thing, Red Robin appearing inside his shop before opening time turned into a thing. Jason was still getting used to the fact that Red Robin visiting his shop every morning was a thing. And now he was just, letting himself in. Jason didn’t even have to get him a key.

He supposed it was better than finding the kid sitting outside of his shop door. But it was still kind of disorientating to see a shadow inside of his shop. Made him jump every time.

That was probably why Red Robin did it. The brat.

“What is it this time?” Jason sighed as he closed and locked the door behind him. Red Robin was seated at his usual table. But there were stacks of paper, books and workbooks spread out around him.

“Homework.”

“All this?” Jason frowned, careful not to walk too close. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the name of Red Robin’s school. Seemed like the type of knowledge that was bound to attract the criminal underworld. And he had no interest in being part of the criminal underworld.

“For the next month,” Red Robin said. “The ones that the teachers have already planned anyway. Figured I’d get through them now, since it was a quiet night and all.”

Quiet night meant not much crime happening. Or that the type of crime were all things the police could handle on their own. It still boggled Jason’s mind that he knew so much about the vigilante lifestyle. It was so different to imagining them as dark, shadowy guardian angels of Gotham.

“Right...” Jason said slowly, meandering his way to the back. “Usual?”

“Yes please,” Red Robin said. “And breakfast, if that’s alright with you.”

It was definitely alright with Jason. Red had been looking a little thin lately, and Jason couldn’t help but feel relieved when he was able to just feed the kid. He’d started stocking more food in his little kitchenette as a result. He was sure Sasha had noticed, but she didn’t say anything.

The breakfast Jason were making were getting bigger too, at least, when Red Robin were around. But the vigilante didn’t say anything either. And unlike with other things, Jason wasn’t sure Red Robin noticed.

This lack of self-care worried Jason.

The way Jason was apparently turning into a mother hen was worrying too. But nowhere near as much as wanting Red Robin to eat more.

Besides, it was for the good of Gotham. How was a vigilante supposed to fight crime when they’re wasting away due to lack of nutrition and fuel.

Jason shook his head. Not motherhenning. He was a baker. Not a nanny. He just liked feeding his guests. Yes, that was all this was.

Chapter Text

Red Robin was sitting at his usual table. A small device had been set up on aforementioned-table, a small device that was spewing a whole bunch of holographic windows into the air.

Jason didn’t bother reading the mass of text and data that was strewn about. But it was hard to not notice the candid shots of a guy with brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hm, cute,” Jason said as he set their breakfast on the table.

"He's a suspect for a serial murder case," Red Robin said with a roll of his eyes. 

"So he's cute but potentially evil. Gotcha." Jason said, sitting down.

Red Robin looked at him considering for a moment as Jason picked up his sandwich. 

"Are you gay?" Red Robin asked.

Jason paused in lifting the sandwich to his mouth. He set the sandwich down and looked straight into Red Robin’s eyes. Into Red Robin’s eye-mask-lens-things, whatever.

"You're a little young for me," he said solemnly.

Red Robin rolled his eyes again. His whole head moving with the motion.

"That's not why I asked and you know it."

Jason snickered.

"Besides, you’re only 19. That’s barely 3 years older than me," Red Robin continued.

Jason wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea for Red Robin to share that so easily. Nor was he sure how to handle the fact that he now knew Red Robin was 16 years old.

“Excuse you, I’m 23,” Jason said, choosing to ignore the kid’s usual overshare of information for now.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” Jason said. At least, he thinks he’s 23. He might be 22, or 24. But he had a birth certificate. And that said he was 23 so he was sticking with it.

“Your parents are Willis and Catherine Todd. They filed for your birth certificate 19 years ago. You’re 19.” Red Robin seemed proud for knowing this about Jason. It must have taken some work.

Jason wasn't sure how he felt about being researched by Red Robin either. But the thing that bothered him most was that he was less bothered by it than he expected.

“My parents didn’t get me a birth certificate until I was 4 years old,” Jason replied.

“The hospital would hav-”

“I was born in a bathtub,” Jason rolled his eyes. That was what his mother told him anyway, during those early days when she wasn’t always high or unconscious. “They didn’t take me to a hospital.”

Of course, his mother nearly died giving birth to him so she went to the hospital. Or so his dad said, during one of those rare days he hadn’t been drunk or angry or absent. To this day, Jason wasn’t entirely sure whether any of this had been true. Wasn’t even sure they got his birthdate correct.

But he remembered very distinctly the day they got him a birth certificate. And he had been 4 at the time. It was one of his earliest memories.

He couldn’t remember exactly what it was that he did, nor could he remember whether it was actually impressive or whether his parents were both just high off something or in a good mood for some reason.

All he remembered was sitting in his father’s arms as they stood in line at the registrar’s office. His mother had given him a kiss on the cheek and said “smart 4 year olds like you should have a birth certificate.”

That was it. That was all he remembered. Luckily, he also had the document that matched up to that memory.

Of course, there was no proof that his parents hadn’t misremembered his age, but there were enough uncertainty in Jason’s life, he wasn’t going to let this be one of them.

Red Robin, on the other hand, seemed strangely contemplative.

“Why didn’t they give you a birth certificate before then?” he asked, like the inquisitive brat that he was.

Jason shrugged.

“But surely they needed-”

“Not like there was any child benefit in Gotham back then,” Jason shrugged.

“That’s true but...”

“My mum was at the hospital around my birthday though. She had a fever or something,” Jason supplied, starting to get a little weirded out by how surprised Red Robin was being.

He had always known the Bats must have had a backer. But now he was starting to suspect the kid himself was from a fairly privileged background. It wasn’t that unusual for parents from his neighbourhood to not bother with birth certificates. What was the point when they didn’t even know if their child would live to adulthood.

Jason’s story wasn’t really that unusual.

Well...that’s not technically true. A street kid becoming a baker that had his own shop might be a little unusual. But Jason only managed that becaus-

Red Robin’s wrist computer blared out an alarm, making Jason jump and nearly choke on the sandwich he had just bit into.

Red Robin was on his feet in a flash, grabbing his holographic projector thing and dropping $50 on the table.

Jason wanted to protest the amount of cash when Red Robin had barely taken a bite of his food, but that type of alarm had sounded only once before; Jason knew it was serious. So he didn’t do anything to distract the vigilante as the kid swooshed out of the shop like an elusive shadow.

---

Red Robin didn’t return for about a week or so. Jason wasn’t surprised, it had been pretty damn crazy in Gotham this last week. Crazy even by Gotham standards.

Mr Freeze had taken most of Gotham hostage with his ice. And then hunkered down and made his demands. It was a cat and mouse chase for the better part of the week. Sasha had called in, citing that she couldn’t come to work because the ice was blocking the roads.

Jason wasn’t especially impacted by any of this, since his shop was on the outskirts of Gotham. Most of his customers weren’t affected either, since most of them lived on their boats or near the ports. So for him, it was just a regular work week, with perhaps a little more business than usual. His bakery was one of the few places that were still open.

He was glad that he always made sure he was fully stocked with enough ingredients to last for several months in case of lockdowns. The food shortage had been a problem for a lot of residents trapped within the ice. More so than the cold.

Still, it was over now. Jason was just listening to the radio about how the last of the ice had been cleared when a familiar clatter at the backdoor sounded.

He looked up to see Red Robin walking in, with a bright grin. Red Robin always made sure to make some warning noise when coming in from the backdoor, mostly because of that one incident where Jason nearly dropped a hot tray on his face from the surprise of finding the kid sitting on the stool by the kitchenette.

“Morning,” Red Robin said, sounding much more chipper than Jason had expected considering the kid had probably been sliding around on ice the whole of last week.

“Hey,” Jason greeted, not pausing in his work.

Red Robin was holding a tablet, which he immediately thrust in front of Jason’s nose. Jason blinked at the image on the tablet. He frowned.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a record from the Crime Alley Free Clinic,” Red Robin said. “A ‘Mrs Catherine Todd’ had been admitted and treated on the date specified here.”

Jason blinked, and quickly read over the information on the tablet again. Red Robin was right. And...and...that was his birthday. His birth date . His birth certificate had been accurate all along.

Red Robin pulled the tablet away, spinning it around his wrist like the crazy vigilante that he was. “So you are right. You are 23.”

Jason was feeling...strangely breathless. He didn’t think he cared that much, he didn’t think he needed to know exactly when he was born. Knowing the exact date wasn’t going to affect anything he did in life from now on. But even so, finding out that all the evidence matched up so perfectly with his own knowledge. Finding out that the date he had always mostly been sure was his birthday was actually correct...

It was like a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying had been lifted off his shoulders, off his chest, off his heart. He took in a shaky breath.

Red Robin was looking at him strangely. “You okay?”

Jason turned to him, finding that he was blinking back - oh god was he blinking back tears? He sniffed a little to get his stupid, melodramatic reaction under control.

“Yeah,” he said, voice weirdly hoarse. Because it wasn’t just the fact that his birth certificate had been right all along. It was the fact that Red Robin had gone out of his way to look into it for him.

Sure, it was probably mostly because Red Robin wanted to show off his investigation skills and to get the facts absolutely right. But that didn’t negate the way he had put in effort to find out the truth. For Jason.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jason said, turning back to the dough. “And of course I am right. Who wouldn’t know their own age?”

Red Robin seemed pretty dubious at Jason’s statements, but it was an amused sort of dubious, so it was probably alright. Especially since the kid promptly plonked himself down on the kitchenette stool and brought out his holographic projector.

“I’m hungry, when’s breakfast?”

“In an hour. Like usual,” Jason said, unable to stop the smile gracing his lips.

Chapter Text

One day, Red Robin stopped coming to the shop.

Jason didn’t think much of it at first. It wasn’t the first time the vigilante stayed away with no warning. There was probably some big crisis somewhere that he needed to sort out. From what Jason could tell, a lot of the Batclan’s work didn’t ever make it to the media.

Considering how much the Gotham media outlets talked about them, the Bats did much more work than Jason had realised.

When Red Robin didn’t stop by even after a week, Jason started getting concerned. Not super concerned. Most likely the kid had finally pushed his luck too far and gotten injured. But Batman would look after him. Right?

Jason consoled himself on this fact. That there were other vigilantes out there. And the Gotham Gazette was still posting blurry images of the Bat fairly regularly, so Red Robin was likely being looked after.

When Red Robin still didn’t turn up after a month however...

The anxious ball that had been buzzing within Jason’s chest welled up until he couldn’t ignore it. He shaped his bread with an ear out for the sound of footsteps, even if Red Robin never walked loud enough for Jason to hear him. He’d look around him every time after he put the dough in the oven, every time he warmed up his coffee machine, every time he unlocked the shop’s doors.

Red Robin was never any where to be seen.

Jason spent his day-offs cycling around the city longer than usual, instead of spending it in the library, he’d cruise around the streets, peering down alleyways in hopes of catching a glimpse of the kid. Even if the Bats rarely helped people during the day. That was where all the rumours that they were actually vampires came from after all.

He tried not to let it get to him. Red Robin could take care of himself. Jason had seen that first hand. But even as he forced himself not to dwell on the issue, Jason found himself checking the news repeatedly for any signs of the kid.

Gotham, being Gotham, had a little section on the Bats every night. There were rarely ever any video footage of course. And even when there was video footage, it would always be Batman and Robin standing beside some cops and talking.

Red Robin didn’t appear in any of them. Not a mention, not a word, not even a recognition of his existence.

Once, there was a video footage of a red, green and yellow vigilante, swinging between buildings on his own, and Jason’s heart had leapt with hope. But then the kid in the shot turned out to be the current Robin. It was very clear when Robin paused and yelled at the cameraman to “get out of the way!”

To say Jason had been disappointed was putting it mildly.

Their costumes are pretty similar, Jason thought to himself a few days later. I hadn’t realised how similar. What’s the point of having such similar costumes?

What was the point of having such similar names for that matter. Perhaps Jason would ask the next time he saw the kid.

If he ever saw the kid again.

He’ll be fine. He can take care of himself.

---

It was 4:45am on a far too foggy morning. Jason couldn’t believe how thick the mist was. He had woken up and nearly had a heart attack because he thought one of the Crazies finally set off a gaseous poison near his shop.

But it was just fog. Thankfully.

For now anyway.

He went through his morning routine much more tense than usual. The usual rhythm he’d fall into whilst baking bread have eluded him so far today. By the time he was gathering the first bag of rubbish to throw in the large dumpster outside, he was more high strung than he had been for a long time.

Which was probably why he yelped and ducked behind the dumpster at the first sign of movement in the fog.

In the 2 seconds it took him to duck down behind the dumpster and run through his available options, Jason realised that a bag of rubbish was not the best defensive weapon. A huge oversight on his part. Perhaps he should start carrying a crowbar whenever he had to throw something in the dumpster.

Those thoughts quickly flew out of his mind though, when he noticed the cape.

Pretty much none of the Gotham City villains wore capes. If a cape could be seen in Gotham, it was most likely one of the Bats.

Or a villain from another city.

But odds were that it was a Bat.

Jason rose from his crouch warily. He peered over the dumpster to see a man waiting patiently a few feet away, glanced around him just in case there was trouble behind him, then finally stood all the way up.

“Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I didn’t do it,” Jason said, surveying the other man with a frown.

The vigilante snorted.

He was clearly a vigilante. The cape was the main giveaway, but the guy also had a cowl on. It didn’t have bat ears so it couldn’t be Batman. Unfortunately Jason did not know enough about vigilantes in Gotham, or about superheroes in general, to know the guy’s hero name.

He tried to run through his minimal knowledge of vigilantes to figure out which one wore a cowl, a red and black ensemble, and a badge at the top of his chest with...some awkward design of a bird’s head. As expected, his brain came up empty.

Then a thought occurred to him. And he paled.

“Did something happen to Red Robin?” he asked, feeling suddenly afraid. Maybe Red Robin was hurt and had sent his friend to give him a note. Maybe Red Robin was in a coma and the doctors suggested they round up everyone the vigilante had ever spoken to, so they could all visit and try to wake him up.

Maybe Red Robin was dead. Maybe he was about to get invited to a funeral.

Jason fervently hoped that wasn’t the case. But the last time he hoped for something like that, his mother had been declared dead on site.

The vigilante startled. Then he spoke, with a very familiar voice. “No...Jason, it’s me.”

Jason’s brain stuttered to a stop for a few seconds. Then relief crashed all around him. “Oh thank god. I thought you’d been killed or something.”

Red Robin pressed his lips together. The way he did when he was biting back words. Jason had no idea when he started noticing little habits like this. Or even how he still managed to notice despite not seeing the kid for over half a year.

“Please tell me you’ve been spending the past 6 months working on your new costume and not in a coma battling a life-threatening injury.”

Red Robin opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again.

“My best friend died last week.”

“Oh.” Jason hesitated. What was there to say. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, which helped nothing, Jason knew from experience.

“Thank you,” Red Robin said. He actually...looked thankful. Maybe it helped a little for him. Jason hoped so.

Red Robin kept speaking. “I changed my costume to-” he cut himself off. Took a breath. Swallowed. “It was his colours. Red and black.”

Jason nodded. He didn’t know who the hell Red Robin was talking about, but he assumed some superhero. Clearly the kid was heartbroken by it all.

On the other hand, Jason couldn’t help but keep thinking, thank goodness it wasn’t you .

“You can cry if you want,” Jason said. The books he had read in the library had said a mourning period was important to get over grief. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll even look the other way.”

“No I-” Red Robin choked. Swallowed again. Then hesitated.

An oven timer dinged .

“Shit, the croissants.” They were going to burn if he didn’t go take them out. But he couldn’t leave the kid out here whilst he was in the middle of repressing a breakdown.

Jason settled for a compromise.

“Close the door on your way in,” he yelled to Red Robin as he ran inside.

The croissants were taken out of the oven, and placed on the cooling racks. The danishes looked nearly done too, but Jason made sure to reset the timer. There was no telling if he’d get distracted given the situation.

Red Robin hovered by the threshold of the door for a moment. But eventually he walked in and closed the door behind him. The door always squeaked when Jason opened or closed it, no matter how often he oiled the hinges. But it stayed silent for Red Robin. Even in the middle of a breakdown, the kid was scarily skilled.

“You want a coffee?” Jason asked. Because that’s what Red Robin usually wanted when he visited.

Given the way the kid was hugging himself though...

“It’ll get better,” Jason offered. “I know that’s hard to believe but...it does. Eventually. After a long time.”

Red Robin nodded. “I know...I...”

Then suddenly the kid rushed at him. Jason was so startled by the speed of it, that he didn’t immediately register the arms wrapping around him. He tensed.

Red Robin immediately let go. “I’m sorry. I just...” He sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

The books Jason had read in the library also mentioned that physical comfort was important for some people. It hadn’t been important for Jason, he had been too wary about being close enough to get pulled into a van without warning to seek out physical contact. But Red Robin was not him.

He forced himself to relax, reached forward, and pulled the kid into a hug.

Red Robin immediately wrapped his arms back around him and pressed his face into Jason’s bakers shirt.

That was a potential hygiene issue. Jason’s got to remember to change his shirt later. Before he went back to preparing the bread.

Speaking of, he was running behind schedule. But...well, it couldn’t be helped this time.

Red Robin must have noticed some minor changes in Jason’s posture because he immediately pulled back again.

“I’m sorry. I’m bothering you.”

Jason shrugged. “A regular customer’s just returned. I’m more relieved than bothered.”

The kid didn’t look convinced. So Jason pulled him back into a hug again, practically trapping him there. Red Robin was tense. But after a few moments, he sunk into the embrace. If Jason wasn’t holding him so tightly, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the way the kid’s shoulders shook in silent sobs.

The oven with the danishes dinged again. Red Robin immediately dropped his arms and pulled away. Jason let him.

Except, by the time Jason had finished taking the danishes out of the oven. Red Robin had gone.

Chapter Text

Tim hadn’t meant to get emotional.

He hadn’t meant to lose control like that at all.

They had been on their way home. The three of them together. Dick and Damian had started this amiable conversation about cows of all things. And it had just hit him.

It hit him that he and Dick hadn’t had a truly amiable conversation for over a year. It hit him that Dick and Damian had developed a real partnership. They were the real deal. They were what Batman and Robin should be, working perfectly in tandem.

It hit him that he had never worked with Dick so flawlessly. Not even when he had been Robin.

It hit him that Dick had been right all along. Damian needed Robin. Now that Damian was Robin, he felt responsible, he was more careful of his actions.

The kid was still an utter brat. But he was honouring the Robin name.

And it hit him that Bruce was not going to interrupt that progress.

When Bruce returned back to their time, Damian was still going to be Robin. Tim was never going to get that privilege ever again.

Just like he was never going to see Conner again.

Their last conversation had been an argument. Tim had been the only one at the time to realise Bruce was not really dead. Conner had not believed him.

Conner had only wanted to help, to stop Tim on his mad quest that Conner believed had no conclusion. His best friend was only looking out for him.

But Tim had been so intent on escaping Gotham back then. He had thrown words to hurt. To push Conner away so he would be free to find the evidence that would convince Dick he was right. Evidence to convince the Justice League that Bruce needed help.

Those words had been effective. Too effective.

And Tim regrets every single one of them.

Hindsight was an awful thing.

It was because of that regret, that Tim had immediately returned to his family when he learnt of Conner’s death. He pushed away the lingering anger at Dick for throwing him aside to help Damian adjust. He forced himself to be as civil as he could with Damian.

He let Alfred coddle him as much as he could stomach. Even though watching the lighthearted banter Alfred had with Damian every morning was like a knife to the gut.

Tim didn’t want his last conversation with Dick to be an argument. He didn’t want Alfred’s last memory of him to be a trashed room and an open window.

But it was so painful to watch Damian taking over every part of his life. To see Damian so comfortably slotting into a role that had once been his.

And as the three of them swung across the rooftops, he just...hadn’t been able to take it anymore.

“I need to stop by somewhere,” Tim said.

“Alright,” Dick replied, tense. Damian, as usual, scowled at him for interrupting. “Will you be back tonight?” Dick asked.

“Yeah, it’ll just take a minute,” Tim lied. He knew Dick was trying to give him space. But the fact that Dick wasn’t even concerned with what Tim was getting up to...

To be honest, everything involving Dick was painful lately. Tim had returned because he didn’t want to lose his family the way he had lost Conner. But it was like he had already lost his family.

He swung away. And headed towards Ports Bakery .

The first thing Jason said to him was, “Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I didn’t do it.”

It was so casual. So typical. Tim had to stifle a laugh. He hadn’t laughed for ages.

And then Jason had asked, “Had something happened to Red Robin?” His face had been full of worry.

Tim had felt surprised. Not because Jason hadn’t recognised him, lots of the superheroes didn’t recognise him since his costume change, but because it was the first time that Tim had heard someone genuinely ask after his wellbeing for months.

Even Alfred’s first words had been a light lecture.

The relief in Jason’s face once he realised Red Robin had simply changed costume warmed Tim’s heart more than anything else since his return. Here he was cared for. Jason cared about him. Jason had been concerned about him.

Perhaps that was unfair to Dick and Alfred, but their main concern these days was always Damian Damian Damian.

Jason didn’t know Damian.

Conner hadn’t known Damian either.

“Please tell me you’ve been spending the last six months working on your new costume and not in a coma battling a life-threatening injury,” Jason asked.

And that did it. That mere mention of life-threatening injury opened the floodgates. Tim hadn’t managed to hold back the tears that had been threatening to bubble up since he had learnt of Conner’s death. He felt his throat constrict. His stomach twisted itself into knots. His heart sank to the bottom of his shoes.

Tim hadn’t meant to get emotional.

Chapter Text

3 weeks before Tim met Jason

Tim woke up feeling good. Today was the first day that Dick would be taking on the Batman mantle since Bruce died (well, vapourised).

The last few weeks had been tough. Hell, the last few months had been tough. Bruce running off to do Justice League stuff while dumping a murderous 10 year old on them had been tough enough.

Then Talia had tried to reclaim the aforementioned 10 year old, which resulted in lots of fighting against ninjas, which was always tough.

After that, Bruce had the audacity to not come back from the stupid Justice League mission, leaving the Gotham underworld to Nightwing and Robin’s highly incapable hands.

Okay, so Tim was still a bit salty about that. Sue him. Anger was an important part of grief. And considering he’d just spent nearly a month fighting the Gotham underworld acting like it was on steroids - because surprise surprise, criminals were a lot bolder when they realise Batman wasn’t around the corner - he felt pretty justified in being extremely angry at Bruce.

Plus Damian.

Just...why Bruce, why?

There was also that ridiculous little video message that Bruce left for them. The one he had on file in case he died.

“I’m confident Nightwing and Robin can keep Gotham’s darkness at bay.”

Yeah right, Bruce. Like it wasn’t completely obvious that Gotham’s ‘darkness’ were often kept at bay purely because a single utterance of ‘Batman’ brought a nauseous wave of terror amongst most criminals.

In fact, Bruce’s entire original design as the shadowy boogeyman was meant to heighten the concept that Batman was an urban legend. Batman couldn’t be shot. Batman couldn’t be killed. Batman was not human.

So the idea that Bruce thought Nightwing and Robin were enough...

Well, either Bruce forgot about the origins of Batman. Or he overestimated Dick and Tim. Which wasn’t really like him.

Then again, Tim supposed the thought of untimely death brought out the optimistic sap in the most stoic of men. He just wished Bruce had been less delusional about it all.

Because Nightwing and Robin weren’t enough. They definitely weren’t enough.

Tim didn’t know who tipped the underworld off - the Justice League had been pretty good about hiding the fact that Batman got vapourised by an alien from an alternate dimension - but someone did. And suddenly every minor crook in Gotham came out of the woodworks.

It was kind of incredible how much bravado grew within a person as soon as they found out that Batman wouldn’t be around to catch them.  Bank heist were happening every few hours, drug deals were agreed faster than Tim could blink, murder rates shot through the roof.

The only saving grace had been that the Rogues didn’t seem particularly interested. Perhaps they didn’t get the memo. Or perhaps they didn’t believe that Batman could possibly die, but Arkham breakouts didn’t increase exponentially. The ones who weren’t in Arkham, like Penguin and Two Face and Poison Ivy etc., were all just doing their usual thing.

The problem had been the rest of the underbelly of Gotham. The gangs, the opportunists, the conmen. But it wasn’t just them.

While it was clear that only the criminal underworld were given specific information about the demise of Batman, his absence had been discussed even amongst the public. The media never said that Batman was dead, they probably didn’t even realise, but after a while, they began to question his absence.

By the time the general public noticed that Batman was ‘not around’ for the time being, the other common crimes had all increased. Muggings tripled. Vandalism sprouted like flowers across the city. Domestic abuse, sexual abuse, child abuse all increased. And those were just the reported cases.

A pity that the police’s level of competency did not increase with it.

It was exhausting to say the least.

The sheer number of crimes were overwhelming. Even with help from their peers, it was just near impossible to keep a handle on everything. And it’s not like they had that many peers to help them out in the first place.

Barbara was still coming to terms with her new life in a wheelchair.

Steph was, well, dead.

Damian might have been useful given his assassin training. But considering the last time he sneaked out on his own he returned with a severed head (this was before Bruce got zapped with an alien gun). Tim was thankful that Dick wouldn’t tolerate Damian ‘helping’.

Catwoman was the only ally that was remotely helpful. But she couldn’t be everywhere at once.

There were times Tim even called Conner. Despite Gotham being a very awkward place for a Kryptonian, what with all the lead in the city. That was how overwhelmed they were.

Dick hadn’t helped matters. Tim saw very early on that the most sure fire way to scare all the idiotic wannabes was for Dick to become Batman. But Dick was resistant. He said he wanted to trust in Bruce’s judgement on the issue, even though Bruce’s judgement was clearly flawed when it came to this. Anyone could see that he’d said those things about Nightwing and Robin being enough because he’d been in the mindset of a doting father rather than a rational leader.

As if sentiments mattered to the Gotham underworld.

Besides, it made sense for Batman’s first protegé to graduate to Batman. At least, that’s what Tim kept telling Dick. Pity it fell on deaf ears for such a long time.

That was all going to change tonight though. After a rather close call with the Joker, Dick had decided enough was enough. He was going to become Batman.

Tim was ecstatic.

Batman and Robin were going to soar through the skies again. Tim knew Dick would make a fantastic Batman, there was no doubt about it. And Tim’s rollercoaster of a year was finally going to settle down into stability for the first time since his father died.

Robin was all Tim had left. Robin and Dick and Alfred. Tim supposed he could sort of include Damian as well. Goodness knows they all needed to pull together right now.

In fact, it wasn’t really the murderous brat’s fault for being a murderous brat. Anyone raised by Talia Al Ghul was bound to have at least a few screws loose.

Plus Damian had just lost his father too. Tim decided that he should try a bit harder in getting along with him. Bruce wouldn’t want his biological son to become a homicidal maniac. Maybe he’ll mention it to Dick after patrols tonight. They can work on a plan together.

With that thought in mind, Tim headed down to the Batcave.

Dick was already there, to Tim’s surprise. He was even wearing the Batsuit. Given his reluctance in being Batman, Tim really thought that Dick would put off wearing the Batsuit until the last minute.

The fact that Dick was ready to go. Well, Tim couldn’t help but grin at the new Batman.

“I’ll go get changed right now,” he said. It was still a little early. Most of Gotham’s crimes that required vigilante assistance didn’t really happen until nightfall, even with the current increased frequency of trouble. But Tim was sure it wouldn’t hurt to show their faces early. Batman and Robin hadn’t appeared together in Gotham for a long time.

Just the thought of it made Tim sort of giddy. And immensely relieved. It was even helping him begin the process of closure around Bruce’s death, which, as painful as it was, was probably really important.

Bruce’s death was still going to hurt a lot for a very long time. Every death in Tim’s life still hurt a lot. But he feels more confident about handling it now that there’s some semblance of normality returning.

“Um, Tim, about that,” Dick said as Tim headed for the lockers that held his costume.

Tim paused. Fear crept up his heart.

Please don’t let Dick have changed his mind. Tim wasn’t sure what he’d do if Dick had put on the Batsuit only to realise that he didn’t want to be Batman after all.

“What?” Tim said, cautiously approaching the computer terminal Dick was seated at.

“Thing is, I was thinking-”

Whatever Dick was thinking was interrupted. By the now annoyingly familiar arrogant drawl of Damian.

“What? You’re still here?” Damian sneered from behind them.

Tim closed his eyes, reminded himself of his resolve to be nicer to the demon spawn only minutes ago, and turned to greet Damian as nicely as he could.

The greeting died on his lips before he made a single sound.

Damian was wearing the Robin suit.

Damian. Was wearing the Robin suit.

It wasn’t Tim’s Robin suit. Their height and general size difference made it pretty much impossible for it to be Tim’s Robin suit. But it was undoubtedly the Robin suit.

From the colours to the cape to the ‘R’ logo on his chest. It was the Robin suit.

What on earth?

Why?

What?

“Damian, be quiet,” Dick said, sounding rather exasperated.

Damian ignored him. He stalked closer, walking down the stairs of the metallic platform that connected to the computer terminal area of the cave. “Didn’t you get the memo, Drake? You’ve been deemed obsolete.”

Tim, for his part, was mostly just gaping at the fact that Damian was wearing the Robin suit. His mind tried and failed to compute exactly what it was that he was seeing.

“Dick? What’s going?” Tim asked. Because it couldn’t be true. Dick wouldn’t have just...replaced him. There was no way.

Dick gave a big sigh. Apparently everything Tim thought he knew about his brother was a lie.

“You said we’d be okay, Dick,” Tim said, turning away from the demon spawn smirking beside him to face the new Batman. In the back of his mind, he could feel his pulse speed up, the cold claws of dread and pain squeezing his heart and lungs. “I don’t call this,” Tim gestured at...at everything. “I don’t call this ‘okay’!”

“Don’t be so sensitive, Drake.”

“Damian, shut up,” Dick said. He looked Tim in the eyes. “Tim,” he sighed again. “Tim, I didn’t want to tell you like this.”

“Tell me what?” Tim said. “Tell me that you’re firing me?!?!”

“No!”

“Yes,” Damian supplied unhelpfully.

“No. No one’s being fired.”

“Right, you’re still part of the team, Drake. Even if you are no longer the optimal choice for Robin.” Damian said in the most condescending tone Tim had ever heard.

“Damian, shut up, now.” Dick’s voice was stern. But Tim barely noticed him speaking.

“How could you let him wear that costume, Dick?!” Tim yelled, rounding on him. “Why would you choose him over me?!”

“I’m not-”

“Then what? We’re ‘sharing’ Robin?”

“No, I-” Dick cut himself off. He looked pained. He wasn’t even looking Tim in the eyes any more. “Tim. He’s my responsibility now.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tim snapped.

“Tim, you’re not my protegé,” Dick said. And Tim felt like someone had just stabbed him right in the stomach. Of course. Bruce was the one who allowed him to be Robin. Dick had been angry about it at first, but Tim thought Dick had got over that. Tim thought Dick was happy to be his big brother.

Tim thought Dick was happy that he took on Robin. Tim thought Dick was proud of him for upholding what Robin stood for. Tim thought...

Tim thought a lot of things.

But it turned out he was wrong. It turned out he’d been wrong all along.

Dick didn’t want him to be Robin. Dick preferred Damian.

Tim wasn’t sure he could deal with this.

“You’re good enough to be a hero in your own right. You’re my equal,” Dick said, no doubt trying to be kind because Dick liked to be kind, even when he was pouring fire on Tim’s very soul. “Damian needs direction. He needs guidance. Robin is the chance he needs to show us what kind of person he can become.”

Tim shook his head. The whole thing was unreal. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. He wanted to throw Damian over the nearest cliff in the cave.

“What about what I need?” Tim said, voice barely above a whisper. Gosh, he wanted to cry. Why couldn’t things be simple again. He’d been so happy less than an hour ago.

“Tim. I’m-”

“No! No, Dick. Robin is all I have left.” Oh god, his voice was breaking from all the emotions welling up. “You can’t take it away from me like this.”

“Tim...”

“Batman needs a real partner, Drake. Not someone who’s so needy.” 

Okay, that was it. Tim had it with this uppity brat and his inferiority complex. He had it with this demonic asshole getting his name wrong repeatedly.

He had it with the implications that he wasn’t a part of this family.

“My name is Timothy Wayne!” Tim said, punching Damian right across the jaw.

“Tim!” Strong arms immediately wrapped around him as Dick pulled Tim away from the devil’s spawn lying on the ground.

“I let you get that shot in on purpose, Drake,” Damian said he struggled up to his feet. It was a blatant lie. Everyone in the cave knew it. If Tim was a bit calmer, he might have taken advantage of that.

As it was, he just fought against Dick’s hold as he tried to go for another punch.

“Tim! Back off!” Dick turned his body and pushed Tim away from Damian, standing between the two and glaring at Tim.

Tim glared back.

“I’m not accepting this, Dick,” Tim said.

“I get that it’s hard to accept change,” Dick said.

“No! You can’t just take Robin away from me like this!”

“You know why I have to.”

“No I don’t! This isn’t fair!” Tim screamed. He knew he was starting to sound like a little kid now, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t fair. Dick was not being fair. “Just when I thought things were going to get better, I find that everything’s burnt down again!”

“Ugh, you’re so melodramatic, Drake. Batman, I propose we change the security. Keep out the riff-raff.”

Dick grabbed Tim before he could punch Damian again.

“Damian, go wait in the car.”

“But-”

“Get in the car now, Robin.”

Tim tensed. Because that ‘Robin’ was not aimed at him. And it hurt. Everything hurt.

Once again, he’s lost everything he dared to care about.

“Tim, I’m sorry. But it has to be this way,” Dick said, loosening his grip on Tim a little as Damian walked towards the Batmobile. He was using the calm tone he reserved for traumatised victims, probably trying to comfort Tim. But to Tim, it just felt patronising.

He pushed away from Dick.

“You should have asked me,” Tim said, scowling at the ground.

“There wasn’t time. We’ve been so busy with-”

“No time? No time?! But there was time to get Damian his own costume.”

“Tim.”

“He’s going to kill someone again. He’s going to ruin the entire Robin legacy. And I’m not going to let him! I’m not going to give up Robin.”

“He’s not, Tim. That’s why I’m giving him Robin, to help him.”

“I’m not accepting this,” Tim said, shaking his head again. He headed towards his locker. “No way.”

“Tim. Tim, what are you doing?”

“What do you care,” Tim snapped. He grabbed his costume and all the accessories and headed towards the manor.

“I know it’s hard right now, I get that there’s a lot of changes to adjust to. But we’re still a team. That’s not changed okay? I still need you.”

Tim didn’t bother to answer. He needed to show Dick that he was not okay with this. But it was not like he could just ignore the crimes on the street that needed stopping. Especially if Dick was willing to risk civilian lives just so Damian could feel better about himself.

“Tim. Tim!” Dick’s calls echoed through the cave as Tim walked up the stairs.

He needed a plan. Tim always felt better once he had a plan. He needed a plan to prove to Dick that he was the better Robin. And then everything will be okay again.

Chapter Text

The day Tim met Jason

The plan was not going well.

The plan was not going well at all.

In fact, Tim might even dare to say that the plan was going absolutely terribly.

Which sucked.

He’d moved out. Sort of.

To be honest, Tim had been working on converting his townhouse into a backup base for a while now. He knew eventually he was going to move out, there was no reason to live in the Manor for the entire rest of his life, as much as he liked it there.

Or so he had been thinking back when he and Steph were dating. Back when she wasn’t...dead.

After the wonderfully disastrous day down at the Cave, Tim had grabbed a bag worth of stuff, got into Dick’s favourite of Bruce’s cars, and hightailed it out of the Manor in a fit of rage.

He moved into his townhouse, with all its hidden facilities, added an extra ‘R’ to his costume, and continued as before.

Alfred had visited once, stocking up his fridge for him. It was nice. Or it would have been, if the whole ordeal hadn’t felt completely tainted by the giant elephant in the room. Alfred was careful not to say anything about the situation. And Tim was still too angry at Dick to be okay with anyone that lived in the same house as him. To be okay with anyone that was not on Tim’s side.

Steph would have been on his side.

Bruce...Bruce would have tried to mediate, but he wouldn’t have just taken Robin from him.

Tim wasn’t entirely sure what Barbara would have done. Probably called Dick an idiot and rolled her eyes. Maybe smacked him on the head. Tim would like to have seen Barabar smack Dick on the head.

Dick hadn’t tried to reach out at all. Apparently Dick wasn’t really happy with him either. Which was the most unfair thing in the universe given this whole thing was Dick’s fault to begin with. Alfred said the three of them had moved out of the Manor too, to live in the Penthouse above Wayne Enterprises.

Although Alfred didn’t say this outright, it was pretty clear that Dick moved out of the Manor to avoid bumping into him should Tim return to the Cave. Coward.

Worse still, nothing Tim did was apparently good enough. He’d managed to solve a huge backlog of cases, all of which he marked down on the Batcomputer network. He’d managed to single handedly wrangle the mess around Crime Alley thanks to that whole criminal-underworld-on-steroids debacle. He had shut down illegal trade routes for drugs and weapons one after another. None of it changed Dick’s mind about Robin.

As for the extra ‘R’. He had, reluctantly, started to go by the name ‘Red Robin’. Initially, he thought he’d just call himself Robin and screw what Dick thought. But frankly, he couldn't do it. There could only be one Robin, it was always Batman and Robin. Having a random rogue Robin around Gotham would confuse the citizens.

He pondered through a few different names at first. Various adjectives beginning with ‘R’. From ‘raging’ to ‘rebellious’ to a whole bunch of other redundant words that sounded stupider and stupider the more he thought about it.

In the end he picked ‘red’. A more subtle stab at Dick for essentially drenching him in blood for firing him. A message that Dick had metaphorically killed him.

Tim doubted Dick would even think that hard about his new name to be honest. It felt like Dick was trying to ignore his existence.

That thought hurt…

That thought hurt a lot.

It’d been 3 weeks already. 3 weeks since he’d left and sought to get Dick to change his mind. ‘Red Robin’ was only meant to be a temporary name. Just a sign of his protest.

But Dick didn’t care.

Tim stifled his sigh as he shifted in his hiding spot atop several shipping containers.

There was a deal going on down below. Some sort of gun shipment for Penguin. A weird side effect of Batman returning had been the way the organised crime families began turning on each other in increasingly underhanded ways.

Not that the mafia had ever not attacked each other in underhanded ways. But whether they were riding on the momentum of a Bat-free Gotham or whether Batman reappearing was making them panic or whether this was just their new business-as-usual, there was a lot more activity than before.

So Tim had been getting rather intimate with these containers.

Tonight was just an information gathering exercise. He wasn’t going to arrest anyone. He only arrived to find out who would be the best person to tail after this meeting. Luckily for him, they gave out all the information he needed, right in the middle of the extremely public - if extremely deserted - container port, so Tim didn’t even have to tail anyone. He just recorded everything, watched them leave, and then made his own way towards where he’d stowed his bike.

‘I could really do with some coffee,’ he thought to himself as he pushed his bike silently towards the road that ran between the port and the fishmarket. He felt so tired, and not just from a lack of sleep.

While there was a small row of shops there, all of them providing essentials and nothing more. No diner for him to grab a coffee from. He supposed it made no sense for a 24hr diner to be all the way out here. Fishmarkets operated on a very specific, daytime related schedule. As did the international delivery services that used the large steel containers Tim was walking between.

A pity. If this area was richer, there’d have been a trendy cafe that Tim could break into for coffee.

Not that he was desperate enough to break into a place for coffee.

To begin with, he had no idea how to operate those giant, manual coffee machines. He was so used to just pressing a single button or placing a single order.

Not that he couldn’t work it out if he had to. 

Just as Tim was mulling over why he was so prideful that he had to remind himself that he could indeed figure out a coffee machine, a light turned on in one of the apartments.

He blinked.

This was rather early for a shopkeeper or any regular citizen to be awake. And a little too late for a fisherman to be waking up. Surely all the fishermen would be on a boat by now, or at least headed towards a boat.

Perhaps it was the family of a fisherman? The children? Though why would they wake up now. It was too early to prepare for the fishmarket.

Tim frowned as the gears in his brain turned at this new, extremely irrelevant mystery. Once again, he wondered why his pride required him to just know everything and to understand everything. It was a useful habit for a detective, but sort of unnecessary when it probably didn’t matter that much that a single citizen was waking up at an awkward hour. There could be a whole host of reasons afterall. From insomnia (Tim was very intimate with insomnia himself), to family emergency (Tim was also very intimate with family emergencies), to awkward work shifts (Tim was just very intimate with staying up late and the various reasons for staying up late).

Nevertheless, because his mind was forever restless, it whirled away and prompted his eyes to take in more of his surroundings.

That’s when he noticed the sign on the shop below the apartment.

Ports Bakery

Oh. A bakery. Of course.

Didn’t bakeries usually start prepping 3 hours before they opened? Tim pushed his bike closer, peered at the sign behind the door in the low light, and saw:

Opening Times
Monday - Closed
Tuesday - 6am to 3pm
Wednesday - 6am to 3pm
Thursday - 6am to 3pm
Friday - 6am to 3pm
Saturday - 6am to 2pm
Sunday - 6am to 2pm

Tim checked the time even though he knew it was just after 3am. His wrist computer glowed 3:09 at him.

‘There’s no guarantee the person living above a bakery is also the person who works at the bakery,’ Tim reasoned with himself. But even if it wasn’t the person in the flat above, the baker or owner should be arriving fairly soon.

Tim looked into the shop. Trying to see whether they had a coffee machine. It was a bakery, so chances were fairly low.

‘Low is not impossible,’ his mind sang back at his analysis and not for the first time that evening, Tim wondered just how overworked he was making himself in order to prove to his idiot of a brother that he was a better vigilante than some entitled brat who had been created because a villainess seduced their adopted father during a place of extreme vulnerability and-

Tim broke himself off and took a deep breath. No need to go down that rabbit hole. Focus on the coffee.

Even if the thought of a simple post-patrol coffee reminded him of the times he and Dick would sit on the roof of the 24hr donut shop near Chinatown.

Tim ignored the memory. Nostalgia was useless. He was sure Damian would sneer at him for it if the demon spawn ever found out.

Instead, he took the time to wheel his bike to the edge of the shop. The bakery was the last shop in the row of shops, nearest to the sea and furthest from the centre of town. Tim nudged his bike right next to the side of the building. From this angle (if Tim was correct in his assumption that the baker or owner will be coming out of the door that separated the bakery from the shop selling fishing supplies) then from this angle the bike would be out of sight.

Useful for a quick getaway if needed.

Not that Tim particularly felt he’ll need it.

It just paid to be careful. There was no guarantee that this guy wasn’t secretly part of the mafia. There was no guarantee that the bakery was not secretly laundering money.

There was just never any guarantee. Of anything. Ever.

Because life was a bitch like that. Tim had experienced it far too many times to indulge in wishful thinking.

His bike properly in place, Tim walked back to the door and plonked himself down on the ground. He stared up at the black, gloomy sky, and wondered why his life had gone so wrong.

He wondered if things would ever get better. Or if that time with Bruce was it. If that was the single window of happiness he would ever get to experience in his lifetime.

Chapter Text

Tim wasn’t proud of it, but he fell asleep.

Just a light doze. But he was sure if Bruce was still alive, he’d have been given an earful about carelessness. Probably a few choice words detailing how Dick would never have lost focus.

Tim had never cared about being compared to Dick. It was simple facts that no one would ever live up to the legend of the first Robin. Tim hadn’t pushed his way to Batman’s side so he could replace anyone.

Not like how Dick had replaced him with Damian.

The thoughts and memories of the raw betrayal back in the Batcave flashed through Tim’s unconscious mind as he dozed against the glass door of a seaside bakery.

“Robin!”

Tim startled awake. Turning to the source of the sound and berating himself for such negligence.

There was a man standing a few feet away, staring at him in consternation.

He was tall, maybe even as tall as Bruce, with short black hair and sharp blue eyes. He was standing in front of the door that led up to the flat above the bakery. Given the guy didn’t so much as have a bag on him, nor did the keys he was holding contain a car key for the three cars parked along the strip, Tim was fairly certain that meant this guy was the baker. Or the owner of the bakery.

Score 1 for Detective Tim.

“Oh, you’re here,” Tim said, trying to add an edge of casualness to his tone.

The baker just narrowed his eyes at him. Maybe Tim wasn’t coming across so casual.

“Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I didn’t do it,” the baker said, tone hard and unyielding.

Part of Tim wanted to point out that claiming innocence had very little correlation with actual innocence in his line of work, but he supposed a vigilante showing up for no obvious reason was probably fairly stressful.

Best he cleared up what he was here for. “It says you open at 6am,” Tim said. A yawn takes over him before he could elaborate, much to his further embarrassment. It was bad enough this guy found him sleeping in the middle of the street. “I really need coffee,” he supplied, hoping to get some sympathy.

Besides, it was true. He really did need coffee. The disappointment of falling asleep where anyone could have attacked him was clearly not scary enough to keep him awake. He had a meeting in......he had a meeting soon. A meeting he should check the time for once he got some coffee.

If this baker would even supply him with any. Given the hostility radiating off the guy, Tim wouldn’t be surprised if this turned into a bit of a fist fight. If it came to that though, Tim was definitely going to do a background check on the guy.

After all, the guy could definitely pass for a thug. He had a street-hardened glare on his face, and his entire posture was poised to move at the slightest provocation. Whether this baker-thug’s instinct was fight or flight was impossible to say. But Tim didn’t take chances.

The baker-thug was also a lot younger than Tim had anticipated. He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties. Around Dick’s age if Tim had to take a guess. Tim had been expecting some portly father-figure in his 50s.

Maybe it was a family business.

Maybe his family had all died recently, and that’s why the baker-thug looked like he was about to bite Tim’s head off.

It was a good thing Tim was used to people wanting to bite his head off, both metaphorically and literally.

“I don’t know what clock you’re checking, but it’s 3:30 right now,” baker-thug said. His tone wasn’t quite a snap, but it was close. The derision behind his words were heavy and grating.

Tim kept his cool, this was nothing compared to Damian. “Bakeries tend to start baking 3 hours before opening time.”

“There are plenty of 24hr diners around.”

“This was closest.”

Baker-thug huffed in annoyance. Tim was half-expecting the guy to tell him to piss off when he realised that baker-thug was staring at him as if Tim was some figment of imagination instead of an actual person sitting right there on the floor in front of the shop.

Oh. Right...

That wasn’t a huff of annoyance, that was a huff of exasperation. This guy was still processing the fact that there was a vigilante in front of him. Still working through the fact that this was not a hallucination.

Not an especially uncommon reaction amongst the civilians of Gotham, especially given the regular risks of hallucinogenic gases in the air.

Tim didn’t really have time for the shock to recede on its own. He was rather desperate for some coffee. Plus, it was dawning on him that asking for coffee before a shop even opened was possibly a little rude. 

“I can pay you,” he said, hoping an incentive would help. Then realised how that sounded and quickly clarified further. “Pay you extra I mean. Obviously I’d pay you for the coffee.”

Baker-thug was giving him a dubious side-eye.

“I’m serious, I’ve got $200 of cash on me right now.”

Now baker-thug was looking kind of panicked. Tim wasn’t entirely sure why.

“You carry that much on you regularly?!”

Was this guy serious? “It’s not like I’d get mugged.”

Baker-thug sighed. “Fine.”

Tim’s mood leapt with joy at the prospect of coffee, and the fact that he’d just negotiated (bribed) this guy to turn on his coffee machine 3 hours earlier than it would have needed to turn on.

That mood promptly crashed back down as he scrambled up in the most undignified way possible, his legs catching as he stumbled away from the door.

As if being caught sleeping on the floor wasn’t embarrassing enough. Now he was revealing just how clumsy he could be when tired and coffee-deprived.

Thankfully, baker-thug didn’t call him out on that less-than-graceful rise to his feet. He simply unlocked the door, pulled it back and held it open.

“Sit anywhere you want,” baker-thug said.

Tim’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the comfiest spot amongst the seats available as baker-thug closed and locked the door behind him. He sat down, watching baker-thug walk around the counter and turn the coffee-machine on.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Black, filtered, double shots,” Tim replied, then quickly had an internal panic. Maybe that was too specific. Maybe all baker-thug wanted to know was whether Tim wanted milk or sugar.

Baker-thug’s expression didn’t change though. He simply said, in his gruff I-beat-people-up-for-a-hobby voice, “Machine needs to warm up.”

Tim nodded. Baker-thug didn’t say any more, so Tim took the chance to survey the shop. It was a quaint little place, with only three rectangular tables. Two of the tables had been placed in a row, perpendicular to the glass shopfront. Tim sat in the one furthest away from the door.

The third table, which Tim noticed was a little smaller than the other two, was placed facing the shop front, with a locked cupboard behind it. In total, the three tables made a sort of backwards ‘L’ shape in the lower left corner of the shop.

On the right side of the shop, there was a tall row of shelves against the wall. It was empty right now, but it seemed to be spaced in such a way that it’d hold a whole assortment of different shapes and sizes of baskets. Lots of variety, not that much volume.

In fact, the shop itself didn’t look much like a bakery despite its sign above the door. One wall worth of bread was a fairly meagre amount of bread to be selling for a shop this size.

On the other hand, the place was a little too small with too few tables to be a proper sit-in cafe. Even though most of the counter-space was taken up by the standard glass display case. Whether the display case was for cakes or sandwiches, Tim didn’t know. Like the tall row of shelves, the glass display case was empty.

Right next to the glass case was the till, a tip jar, a short stretch of empty countertop, and then a small, black, wire rack holding an assortment of leaflets.

Tim blinked. That was rather unusual. Usually bakeries or cafes would have chocolate bars or packets of crisps there. Not promotional leaflets. Tim was about to read what sort of things baker-thug was promoting when the guy spoke up.

“So...Robin...”

Tim bristled. “Red Robin.”

Baker-thug frowned at him, “What?”

“Red Robin,” Tim repeated, making sure to enunciate clearly. “My name is Red Robin.”

Baker-thug frowned harder. “When did you add a ‘red’ to the beginning? I thought it was Batman and Robin. Not Batman and Red Robin.”

Tim felt his anger flare. He gripped the cape by his knees, pulling at the sturdy fabric as he willed himself to calm down.

It wasn’t this random civilian’s fault for not knowing about the intricate family drama going on right now. In fact, it was a good sign that this random civilian didn’t know. It meant they were all doing a good job at keeping out of sight. Bruce would be proud.

Despite knowing this, Tim couldn’t help but feel the indignation of being brushed aside and ignored and forgotten. He couldn’t help but get angry at the prospect of Damian Wayne getting credit for Tim’s hard work. He couldn’t help the rush of frustration, the anger, the sadness.

Tim swallowed bile. He pushed his emotions down. Pressed down upon it with all his might and forced it back into the depths of his psyche.

“It is Batman and Robin. Someone else is Robin at the moment,” Tim replied, relieved that his voice came out measured and even rather than the screeching scream rattling around in his lungs.

Baker-thug seemed to accept that explanation at face-value, or maybe he didn’t actually care that much (this was unlikely. Gothamites were so obsessed with vigilante-sightings that there was an entire segment dedicated to it in the local news every night).

Either way, he turned to the machine - which was apparently now ready for use, not that Tim could tell the difference - and began making Tim’s coffee.

Tim worked on unclenching his fist as baker-thug worked. He took a deep, calming breath that did nothing, and tried to let the sounds of baker-thug making coffee sooth over him.

The buzz of the coffee beans grinder. A double tap for the double shots. The familiar click that was often lost within the ambience of an actual cafe.

Clink went the cup and saucer. And before Tim knew it, baker-thug was setting his coffee down in front of him.

Tim blinked at it, startled. He’d zone out a little while the coffee was getting prepared. As he went to pick up the cup, he realised that he felt more at peace than he had for a long time.

“Thank you,” he said with heartfelt sincerity.

Baker-thug replied with a simple, acknowledging nod.

Chapter Text

Present Day

Tim swings all the way back to the Penthouse. He enters through one of the many secret entrances from around the area and steps into the sub-basement where all their equipment was.

The basement was empty. Alfred’s usual post patrol snack sat on a plate by the computers, waiting for him. Aside from that, no one was there at all. No one waited.

Tim pushed down the feelings of remorse. It would be illogical for them to wait. If they were out particularly late, Alfred would regularly just set their food aside and head to bed. Even as efficient and talented as Alfred was, every human needed sleep. So if the Bats weren’t actively chasing an escaped criminal of some sort, Alfred would head upstairs the moment Batman and Robin began heading back from their patrol.

He thought Dick would have waited though. Dick had asked him where he was going after all.

Tim shook his head and walked over to the small plate of food. It didn’t matter. This was more efficient. Dick didn’t have time to make sure Tim got home. After all, Dick had that Wayne Enterprise meeting tomorrow morning. Tim had no reason to be upset.

In fact, it was illogical for him to be upset.

Despite telling himself that over and over, Tim couldn’t stop the tears that overflowed as he ate his post-patrol sandwich. It was stale and tasteless on his tongue.

He wished he had stayed with Jason.

Tim thought of the way Jason would have offered breakfast. Of the last time they ate together. It made him think of the diners he used to visit with Bart and Conner, whenever they managed to save the world, and sometimes just because they felt like it.

The tears continued to flow. Tim ate in silence, completely alone in the bunker.

Chapter Text

“I need to stop by somewhere,” Tim said, abruptly, interrupting Damian from telling Dick about exactly why a cow needed all four of its stomach.

Dick found himself tensing up without meaning to. He forced himself to relax, forced his voice to remain calm and warm and supportive. Tim was going through a tough time right now, he needed all the support he could get.

“Alright,” Dick replied, voice coming out more strained than he’d have liked. Next to him, Damian scowled. He hoped Damian wouldn’t start an argument over this. Dick wasn’t sure if he could handle Tim disappearing again. “Will you be back tonight?”

“Yeah, it’ll just take a minute,” Tim said, not so much as giving them a backward glance as he changed direction in midair and swung away.

---

Dick wasn’t proud of it, but the moment he and Damian returned to the Penthouse, he checked Tim’s tracker.

Tim hadn’t turned it off this time. Hadn’t thrown it into the ocean like when he had gone gallivanting around the globe in search of evidence that Bruce was lost in time.

That had been Dick’s fault.

God, he didn’t know how Bruce managed it, raising teenagers that fought crime at night. There was this endless and incessant worrying whenever either of them were out of his sight. Was this how Bruce had felt all the time?

The tracker located Tim to be by the docks, near the container port where the mafia liked making deals. Dick had eavesdropped on plenty of meetings at that container port.

Except, Tim wasn’t actually within the container port area. He was on the little strip of road between the fishmarket and the container port. A small area with a smaller row of shops selling only the essentials. Dick can’t quite remember which shops were there, or why Tim would visit them.

Must be some ongoing investigation , Dick thought to himself. It would make sense if one of the smaller mafia families had taken over the shops to launder money. Plus it was a good location as a temporary base if they were due to have a whole bunch of meetings within the container port.

The fact that it was likely an investigation, instead of Tim randomly feeling the need to escape from Dick and Damian’s presence, was reassuring. The workaholic aspect of the action, however, was significantly less reassuring.

Tim didn’t move much. He hovered by the area, usually a sign of eavesdropping, then he actually stepped within the shop boundary itself. He could be on the roof, that was often a good access point for hacking into whatever computer system was in the building. Or maybe he had broken into the office.

Dick fidgeted. He contemplated delving into the system to get more details of exactly what Tim was doing, but if it was an investigation, Tim will write it up in a report.

Besides, it couldn’t be healthy, tracking the Robins so closely. It was something Bruce would do. Dick was already Batman, he didn’t want to turn into Bruce completely.

With a greater reluctance than he would easily admit, Dick pulled himself away from the computer. But not before setting a small notification for when Tim began heading back to the Penthouse.

He went through his stretches and headed upstairs. He could read about whatever Tim was getting up to in his report tomorrow. Right now, he needed rest.

The notification, which was programmed to send an encrypted message to his phone, didn’t ping until Dick was settling down beneath the covers of his bed. He quickly checked Tim’s location, 20 minutes away from the Penthouse, and finally breathed easily.

Tim was heading back. He wasn’t going to disappear again, at least not tonight. It was with that calming thought that Dick relaxed into his pillows and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

There was nothing in the mission reports.

Dick pressed his lips together as he checked through the Batcomputer yet again, trying to see if he’d somehow missed something. But no, there was nothing. Nothing at all. No new report, no edits to existing notes, absolutely no input from Tim last night.

He frowned deeply at the screen. Glaring at it. As if that would provide the mission report he had been so convinced would be there.

Maybe Tim was too tired or too sleepy last night. Maybe he’ll do it today.

That was extremely unlike Tim but...well, people change. And Tim’s been through a lot of changes lately.

Dick went through the reports again, to be absolutely certain there was nothing, and then stared hard at the security camera files.

He could always just...check the camera footage. He had the exact timestamp of when Tim came back after all, he could just check the security feeds and see what Tim did upon returning. See if Tim went straight upstairs, or if he began updating a case file and got distracted, or...or anything.

Dick was desperate to know.

His fingers hovered over the commands.

No, no he wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to stalk his family just for his own peace of mind.

Although, maybe he should ask? Dick gnawed his lip as he thought. Would it be intrusive? Would Tim get angry?

He didn’t know. And frankly, he didn’t really have time to be mulling over this right now. There was a Wayne Enterprise meeting in 15 minutes, he should head to the meeting room.

Pushing away from the Batcomputer, Dick tried not to stomp petulantly to the elevator up to the penthouse.

It was so frustrating, to constantly wonder what his little brother was doing and constantly wonder what more Dick could do to help him. Dick felt so helpless.

“Master Dick, I made you a coffee. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Sorry, Alfred, no time,” Dick said, bypassing Alfred’s disapproving looks and heading straight for the other elevator. The one connected to the rest of Wayne Enterprise, the one that would take him down to the meeting room.

Skipping breakfast wasn’t particularly healthy, but Dick had woken up later than planned. Then he had rushed downstairs to check Tim’s report.

He was glad he at least had the foresight to grab his clothes when he left his room. He’d changed on the way down to the new Batcave. Given how much time he spent staring and searching for Tim’s report, there was no way he’d have had time to go back to his room to change. And he certainly didn’t have time for breakfast.

The board already found him profoundly lacking when it came to business acumen, it wouldn’t do if he was late too.

He was reminded once again of just how little the board thought of him when he arrived outside the meeting room. They gave him haughty once-overs. Dick flashed them all a bright smile anyway and headed inside.

It was a little unfair, he thought, that they were all so judgemental when he didn’t want to be Chairman in the first place. He may have plenty of experience of being a leader, but he had never once shown an interest in this side of Bruce’s legacy.

Or perhaps it was Tim’s legacy now. Tim had taken over the general running of the place long before Bruce died.

No, not died. Before Bruce got lost in time.

Honestly, if Dick had just listened to Tim about that in the first place, he wouldn’t even be in this mess. He probably wouldn’t be in this meeting.

When Tim realised no one believed him about Bruce being lost in time, he decided the only way to save him was to travel across the world for evidence. He decided that this took precedence over everything.

And as such, he had dropped every single responsibility without a word.

He’d dropped the open cases he had in Gotham. He’d stopped visiting Titans Tower. He’d left Wayne Enterprise without any instructions or warning.

Everything, put on hold, so he could focus all his energy on bringing Bruce’s back.

Dick didn’t begrudge him for it. If Tim hadn’t done that, the Justice League would never have noticed or realised Bruce was still alive. Bruce would still be working hard to survive day-to-day in the past, rather than discussing with the Justice League on how he could get back to the current time.

Clark said Bruce didn’t just stay in one time either, that he was being propelled back and forth across the timeline.

It didn’t sound fun.

Not that Dick considered taking over as Wayne Enterprise Chairman was particularly fun either.

Then again, since Dick was only here because he had refused to believe Tim had a point, this was probably apt punishment.

The meeting was certainly boring enough. Dick did his best to focus, and listened. He worked hard on memorising everything that was being said. Even if he didn’t know the best course of action to take on things, he could memorise what was being said. And then he could research the best course of action. That was the least he could do.

“Dick,” Lucius said when the meeting finally ended 3 hours later. “Can I have a word?”

“Sure,” Dick said, stalling for time as he pushed the chair back under the table. He had a feeling he knew what Lucius wanted to talk about.

When Tim had, for all intent and purpose, disappeared off the face of the earth, Wayne Enterprise had fallen into a panic. After all, not only was Tim the CEO, he was also the Chairman of the board, a lot of power and decisions lay with him.

Lucius had thankfully immediately taken over Tim’s duties, without even faffing around with title changes or anything. He delegated his work as Head of R&D to his subordinates as much as he could and paused a boatload of projects and became the interim CEO that the company desperately needed.

He asked Dick to jump in as Chairman as a stopgap while they figured out what to do.

Keeping the whole thing from turning into a PR disaster had been a nightmare and a half. If it weren’t for Lucius, Dick didn’t know what would have happened.

Dick had to commend their other employees too of course, as well as the fortuitous luck that Robin had managed to uncover some scandal involving one of the Gotham politicians that they could feed to the press. There had been enough distraction there for people to not notice the sudden and untimely disappearance of Tim Drake.

Only those who followed business news would know the official story. That Tim Drake had gone on a well-deserved sabbatical.

Dick had been besides himself with worry back then too. Fearing that he’d have to supply a press release about his brother’s untimely death during the sabbatical. He hadn’t been worried at first, figuring Tim would cool his head and return to Gotham soon enough. But then Talia had shown up to visit Damian and mentioned that Tim was with the League and just...

It was a lot.

There was a lot to deal with.

All of which Dick could have avoided if he’d just listened like the elder brother he was supposed to be.

Alfred said he shouldn’t be so hard on himself, but Dick frequently wished he could go back in time and just...change how he dealt with...everything.

No use thinking about that right now though.

“Have you heard from Tim lately?” Lucius said as soon as Dick got close enough, cutting straight to the chase.

Dick worked very hard not to react, and he felt he was fairly successful, despite the nervousness seeping into his bones.

It was no secret that Lucius knew about Batman. They all played their part in maintaining the farce of course, better to protect Lucius’ family and the employees of the company, but they all knew Lucius knew.

There was no way he would have missed that Tim became Red Robin. That Red Robin disappeared the same time Tim did. That Red Robin had been sighted with Batman and Robin the last few nights...

Dick hadn’t found a good time to broach the subject of Tim returning to Wayne Enterprise yet. He didn’t want to overload his little brother with more stress and more work than he could handle.

Tim’s best friend had just died. Tim had just come back from gallivanting across the globe and surviving Ra’s Al Ghul’s League of Assassins. What Tim needed was a nice break from all responsibilities.

There was also the more selfish aspect of not wanting Tim to hate him more than he already did by offloading a job Dick obviously hated doing onto him.

“Yeah, he came home a couple of days ago,” Dick said, then decided to cut off the next obvious question before Lucius could voice it. “He’s still working through jetlag though, so I’m giving him a bit of time to rest.”

“Can you please ask him whether he plans on rejoining the company before the merger is finalised?”

The merger...what merger?

Dick wracked his brain and felt his heart race. Dick had completely forgotten about the talks of a merger. So much for memorising everything. Though he supposed he couldn’t memorise something that was never discussed within an official Wayne Enterprise meeting.

They couldn’t go through with the merger. The Justice League would be compromised. And Dick didn’t know enough about it to stop it. From what he could remember, the whole thing got started because one idiotic Executive talked to some other idiotic but malicious and power-hungry Executive at some Wayne Charity Gala.

It had been a mess, the press had gotten wind of it before the night had been over. Tim didn’t sleep for a week.

Dick vaguely recalled Tim saying that he had a plan to delay the talks and then pressurise the owners to agree to a buyout. Effectively turning the whole thing into a mildly advantageous acquisition instead.

Gosh, that had been over a year ago.

The strategy must have all gone to hell when Tim disappeared. And now the merger talks were so far along that they were getting finalised with the full board.

This actually wouldn’t necessarily be a bad move for the company. It wouldn’t be a good move either, a bit like trading a valuable jewel for an unpolished rock. But the biggest danger was interruption to the Justice League funding.

Bruce and Olly had worked hard to set up a financial system that funnelled money to the Justice League. A financial system that hid where the money went.

Technically illegal, but so was vigilantism. Plus this was the only way to maintain everyone’s civilian identities.

The merger would throw the biggest spanner into that. And Dick didn’t know how to stop it. He needed Tim.

“I’ll ask him,” Dick promised, realising that he didn’t have the luxury of giving Tim a break. If Wayne Enterprise stopped being Wayne Enterprise, lots more than just the company was going to be affected.

So much for not getting Tim to hate him.

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp and cold at 3am. Dick was contemplating how best to convince Damian that maybe Robin should go to bed a bit earlier on a school night. And then remembered that he really needed to convince Robin to go to school to begin with.

And then that led to contemplating how to make sure the other children would be protected from Damian. And how to keep Damian from bringing his sword.

This was promptly interrupted by Tim landing next to him with an unconscious man over his shoulder.

“Got the one that ran,” Tim said.

“Tt, took you long enough,” Damian snarked from where he had just finished tying the criminals to a lamp post.

Tim, for his part, ignored the jab. Which Dick was thankful for. He didn’t want to break up a fight between the two of them using the Batman voice. His throat had been throbbing all night thanks to an extended conversation with the Riddler. 

Gosh, no wonder Bruce was always so quiet.

He needed a drink.

Of water.

Although alcohol would be fairly welcomed too.

The night had gone well, even before patrol. Dick had been nervous about broaching the subject of Tim returning to Wayne Enterprise. But Tim had just nodded and went “Yeah sure.” And that was that.

Maybe Tim was starting to feel more comfortable around them again.

That hope was dashed when, on the way home, Tim suddenly said “You guys head back first, I need to check something again.”

Dick paused. His first instinct was to ask where Tim was going. But maybe that’d be too intrusive, so instead he said, “Can I come along?”

It was hard to read Tim’s expression beneath the cowl, but that was definitely a twitch of alarm.

Stupid. Asking to tag along was plenty intrusive itself. What was he thinking?

There was no chance for him to fix things though, because at the same time Tim twitched with alarm, Damian let out a strange, strangled, upset noise.

Dick looked over. There was an expression of utter betrayal on Damian’s face.

Oh dear. What did Dick forget this time. He must have forgotten something. They must have had plans after patrol. Although Dick couldn’t for the life of him remember what he could possibly have scheduled after patrol. It was 3am for goodness’s sake.

“You promised to show me a new cooldown routine,” Damian said with so much accusation an outsider might think Dick had killed his favourite pet.

Dick winced. Oh yes. So he did. In fact, they talked about it not two hours ago. He’d completely forgotten.

“Well, guess you’re busy,” Tim said, taking advantage of the distraction to jump off the roof before Dick could get a word in edgewise. Dick watched with slumped shoulders as the snap of the grapple gun rang through the air.

He sighed.

Damian scowled. Then he too jumped off the roof, heading towards Wayne Tower.

Dick completely messed that up. He needed to stop doing that.

There was no point in following Tim now. Damian would be livid and it was pretty clear Tim didn’t want him around for whatever he was doing. He should spend the time making it up to Damian instead.

Yet when they got back to the Batcave beneath Wayne Tower, Damian stomped straight towards the showers.

“Hey, what about the cooldown routine I promised?” Dick said, quickly following Damian up the metal steps.

“Don’t bother,” Damian said. “I can tell who your real priority is.”

“Damian, that’s not what happened. I just forgot.”

Damian ignored him.

Dick sighed again, watching his youngest brother disappear into the shower area.

He stood there for a moment, wondering whether to wait until Damian came back out or whether he should go and follow Tim afterall. He meandered over to the Batcomputer as he thought, and decided to check Tim’s tracker.

Dick wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting. But Tim was in the exact location as last night.

Literally the exact location. What was going on?

Dick gnawed at his bottom lip. Then promptly got up. He needed to know what Tim was doing.

Hopping into the Batmobile, Dick pulled the cowl back over his face and drove off into the night.

---

One great advantage about the Batmobile was that it was near-silent if needed. Sure there were times where Batman had to be as threatening as possible, during which the engines would rumble appropriately.

 But when stealth was vital, the Batmobile was the quietest car in the world.

Dick was glad of this fact as he guided the Batmobile along the small access road behind the row of shops. The shadows were tall, stretching far across the asphalt thanks to the streetlights on the other side of the buildings.

Perhaps it would be more polite to drive along the main road. But Tim’s tracker said he entered the building on this side and so Dick decided it would be best to follow the same path.

The road was not very well kept, and Dick struggled to not make a sound as the wheels crunched over the potholes. Still, he managed. None of the lights turned on in the flats above the shops. The only light he could see coming from any of the buildings was at the very end of the row. A small rectangle-shaped line peeking through a backdoor.

That was probably where Tim entered the building. Though the small balcony on the first floor was also a possible candidate.

Dick put the car into park.

He checked the tracker again, Tim was definitely still inside.

For a brief moment, Dick wondered whether this was the right thing to do. Tim had been pretty clear about not wanting Dick to follow him, despite not saying those exact words.

I’ll just do a quick check. Make sure everything’s okay.

A quick check never hurt anyone.

As long as Tim didn't see him.

Heart pounding, Dick slowly and silently got out of the Batmobile. He walked quietly to where he could hear talking.

If Tim was eavesdropping he would be standing outside the door. Meaning he wasn’t eavesdropping. Not on this conversation at least.

Dick glanced up at the balcony, but it was impossible to see past the concrete at this angle.

Maybe Tim is not even here .

It wouldn’t be the first time Tim had played with the tracker. Though he rarely did that. Trusting that the trackers provided accurate information was an important part of their work. Tim made sure not to jeopardize that.

Still, Dick fervently hoped that Tim adjusting the tracker was why it pointed here for two nights in a row. Alternatives made very little sense.

“Is that why you throw it?”

Dick blinked. That sounded like Tim’s voice.

“I’m not throwing it, Red.” A stranger. Male. And that was about as much information as Dick could gleam.

Dick stepped closer to the door. It was open, just a crack, not enough to see anything, but enough to hear them clearly. So Dick stood by it and listened.

“You are absolutely throwing it.” That was definitely Tim’s voice. Teasing. Casual. None of the awkwardness that had been present in every single conversation Dick has had with Tim for the last few months. Maybe even for the last year.

“I’m starting to doubt your genius status here,” the stranger said. It was harder to tell the tone, since Dick wasn’t so familiar with this person, but he sounded casual too. No visible nervousness anyway.

Was Tim out of costume?

For a moment, Dick panicked. Telling random strangers their civilian identities was one of the biggest taboo in their line of work. Not so much for privacy, although that is a factor, but rather for safety.

But Tim wouldn’t do that. Tim understood better than anyone the need to maintain anonymity.

Then again, the Tim that Dick knew didn’t avoid his eyes every time they walked past each other. The Tim that Dick knew didn’t try his hardest to keep every conversation as short as possible.

Dick needed more information.

He took in the door before him. He should be able to open it a smidge more. Just enough to peek inside. The hinges looked a little old, but as long as he was careful.

Dick tugged gently on the door handle.

The door squeaked.

He winced. Froze in place. His ears tried to pick out any sign of the conversation stopping or of Tim throwing a batarang his way.

Neither happened. As Dick forced his nerves to calm, he realised why nothing happened.

The whirl of an oven, several ovens, echoed out from the inside of what was undoubtedly a kitchen.

Dick peered into the room.

Tim was sitting on a stool. Perched comfortably as he spoke to someone on the other side of a long metal table.

That someone was wearing one of those chef’s aprons that was more like a thick jacket. At this angle, Dick could only make out dark hair and a strong jaw.

“Just because I don’t know the intricacies of making bread,” Tim said.

“It’s basic physics!” The stranger paused. “Or chemistry...”

Tim snorted.

“The point is, since you’re apparently a genius mad scientist, I figured you’d be able to infer the physics (or chemistry) of making bread.”

“Who said I was mad?”

“All genius scientists are mad, Red. That’s just how it is.”

The corner of Tim’s mouth twitched. The way it did when he was holding back a smile, or even a laugh.

Dick watched silently. He watched the relaxed set of Tim’s shoulder. The comfortable and warm tone of voice. The absence of restlessness.

A crushing wave of realisation crashed down upon him.

He shouldn’t be here.

This wasn’t an investigation. This wasn’t Tim trying to hide progress on a case from Dick. This was most definitely not Tim trying to take on everything by himself, the way he tended to do when he felt stressed.

This was...this was Tim finding a friend. A companion. A person he could let his guard down with.

Let his guard down to a degree, since he was clearly still in costume. That was one less thing for Dick to worry about at least.

Still, the revelation was painful.

Dick had thought Tim was acting so different around him because he was going through a rough time. He thought things would get back to how it used to be if he was patient.

But Tim was acting just like he used to here. Maybe he was a bit more subdued than usual, which was understandable given the whole thing with Kon El. But ultimately he was being himself. This right here was undeniable proof that Tim had not actually changed all that much.

What changed was how Tim saw Dick. What changed was how much, or how little, Tim now trusted Dick.

Dick quietly nudged the door shut and walked back to the car.

He had no place here. 

Forget making sure Tim didn’t hate him. Tim probably didn’t even think of Dick as his older brother anymore.

Why would he? When this mysterious baker-dude was clearly much better at it.

Dick got back into the Batmobile and drove home.

---

Except...

How did Tim even meet him?

Who the hell was this guy?

Chapter Text

Dick’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as he, once again, contemplated his life choices.

On the surface, this was unnecessary. But the chances of a vigilante befriending a random civilian was slim to none. And Dick didn’t want to be surprised.

He couldn’t afford to be surprised. Not when it could put his family in danger.

Besides, he was only looking into the business history of a shop in Gotham. He did that for investigations all the time. Gotham had a horrifyingly high rate of money laundering shops.

Or just businesses associated with either the mafia or the Rogues.

Penguin himself owned a huge number of establishments near the Iceberg Lounge.

So this was all that was.

He entered the search terms.

.../.../.../... Ports Bakery .../.../.../...

Founded 30 years ago. Owned by the Falcone family.

Shut down four years ago, around the same time that evidence was mysteriously presented to the GCPD for Carmine Falcone’s permanent incarceration (in other words, Batman gave Jim the evidence).

Bought by Jason Peter Todd a year later.

Certified baker: Jason Peter Todd (24)

Dick blinked. The baker was also the owner?

That was...unusual. This guy was only 24 years old. That was pretty young to be owning a bakery.

The detective at the back of Dick’s mind stirred at this potential mystery. A thousand scenarios ran through his head, many of them relating to Jason Peter Todd having connections to the criminal network within Gotham.

Ports Bakery was placed at an awkward spot for a legitimate bakery. But perfectly strategic for any groups wanting to engage in criminal activities. Far out enough from the city that Batman rarely visited, yet also close enough to criminal hotspots to be advantageous.

It was, after all, precisely why Falcone originally bought the place. Or so Dick would assume.

Perhaps Tim was on a case after all. Perhaps Jason Peter Todd was not as innocent as he appeared.

Not that Dick really got much of a look at him. The right side of a shoulder and a vague jawline was not really enough detail to profile someone. Profiling someone through visuals alone was dangerous in itself.

Dick delved deeper. If Jason Peter Todd was connected to criminals, there would be a sign somewhere. A clue of some sort. Barbara had been coping with her new reality by going a little crazy in the collection of criminal activity and updating all their records.

Highly useful, if not entirely healthy. Dick had planned on mentioning this, but the last time he saw her, she had screamed at him to not be so patronising so he’s giving her some time to cool off before visiting again.

It’s been a rough couple of years.

Dick hoped Tim’s new friend wasn’t going to add to the headache. But he couldn’t help but notice that part of him wanted Jason Peter Todd to secretly be linked to a Rogue or the mafia or...or a corrupt politician.

It would make sense too. People in their early twenties didn’t just own a brick-and-mortar shop without some serious financial backing. No bank in Gotham would give that sort of loan.

With that in mind, Dick clicked through into Jason Peter Todd’s business financial records.

---

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Dick bowed his head forward, cradling it in his arms as he all but slumped on the console of the Batcomputer.

After searching high and low for any semblance of dirty dealings, Dick has found absolutely nothing linking Jason Peter Todd to the criminal underworld.

Everything was legit.

The loan was legit. The training was legit. The monthly finances were legit.

Everything, everything that Dick could conceivably let himself look into, was legitimate and legal and by-the-book.

Dick supposed he could look into Jason Peter Todd’s personal background. Check up on his family. Check up on any irregularities in his personal life. Check on his school prior to entering that bakery course.

But he wasn’t going to do that.

That would be too much of a breach of privacy.

He couldn’t just look into the personal background of a civilian he didn’t know for basically no reason.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Chapter Text

Jason tried not to grin like an idiot. He really did.

Red Robin was going to arrive any minute now and Jason just knew the teasing would be endless if the kid found him like this.

But damn, was it hard to keep a smile off his face.

Actually, maybe it’d be a nice distraction for the kid. Red Robin has been so miserable the last few visits. He was clearly trying to act normal, trying to laugh and joke the way he used to. But anyone who knew him must be able to tell that he was not okay.

“Er...”

Jason jumped. He hadn’t heard Red Robin knock.

“Oh, hey!”

Was that too chirpy? It sounded too chirpy. Then again, given the good news, could anyone blame him?

Red Robin was staring at him with a weird look on his face.

“What?” Jason asked.

“You’re singing...”

“Oh...” He hadn’t even noticed. He knew he was humming here and there, but outright singing? Wow, how embarrassing.

The embarrassment must have shown on his face because Red Robin was now smirking at him.

“Something good happened?”

“Something amazing happened,” Jason clarified. He beamed at Red Robin, giving up on trying to hide his joy.

Red Robin was still standing by the door. He eyed Jason cautiously. As if unsure of how to deal with this extremely happy Jason. Especially without knowing the reason Jason was happy.

That was easily solved. Good news were meant to be shared.

“Tim Drake is coming back to Wayne Enterprise!” Jason blurted out, practically bouncing on his feet.

“Huh?”

“Tim Drake,” Jason said, speaking slower and clearer. “Well, I suppose it’s Tim Wayne now. Bruce Wayne adopted him a couple of years ago. But the media still calls him Tim Drake.”

Red Robin looked kind of stunned.

Pity. Jason thought the vigilante would know someone as famous as Tim Drake.

“Tim Drake,” Jason tried again slowly. “You know, CEO of Wayne Enterprise? He left the company six months ago. About two weeks after you stopped showing up here actually. Some sort of family emergency.”

Jason had been distraught. The latest charity initiative at the time never got approved thanks to the confusion. But a family emergency was a family emergency. Jason couldn’t fault the guy for prioritising family.

“I know who Tim Drake is,” Red Robin snapped. “And you’re, what? A...fan?” 

He sounded hesitant. There was also a weird lilt to his voice. As if he didn’t know what to say. Or what to think.

“A big fan. He does fantastic work,” Jason said, doing his best not to swoon. “Seriously, you should take a leaf from Tim Drake’s book.”

Red Robin was pressing his lips together now. Not in anger but...as if he was trying not to laugh.

Jason scowled.

“I’m serious! Goodness knows you’d do more good for Gotham that way. The Martha Wayne Foundation under Tim Drake’s leadership has helped more than you ever will.”

Okay, Red Robin was actually laughing now. Jason was getting angry.

“Oi.”

“Sorry,” Red Robin grinned. “I’m not disagreeing. I’m just,” a chuckle. Jason’s scowl deepened. “I just didn’t think you’d be, um, a ‘fan’ of Tim Drake.”

“What, didn’t think some obscure bakery owner would know who Tim Drake is?”

“I guess I didn’t think you’d be the type to care about large corporate businesses.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Tim Drake,” Jason said, turning back to the dough in front of him. He was running behind.

“Say what now?”

Now Jason was the one giving Red Robin a cautious glance.

“I was homeless you know.”

Red Robin said nothing.

“After my mum died, I lived on the streets. Every day was focused on getting enough food and water and sleep. Did you really think I’d be able to own an entire bakery without help?”

“I...I don’t understand.”

“The Martha Wayne Foundation,” Jason explained. “Tim Drake runs it. Or ran it, when he was Wayne Enterprise CEO.”

For someone who was supposed to be looking after Gotham from the shadows, Red Robin’s knowledge could use some work.

Guess it was up to him to educate the kid.

“I mean, Bruce Wayne should get some credit too. He’s the one who built the whole Foundation. And the one who started funding vocational courses for those living below the poverty line.”

Jason had no income at the time, he had been way below the poverty line.

“I would never have been accepted into the bakery certification course, or even been allowed to sign up, if it weren’t for Bruce Wayne. He got me through the door. But it was still pretty touch-and-go.”

Jason paused, he still got nervous thinking about it. To be given that dash of hope, and to have that hope constantly teeter on the edge, moments from falling. Not an experience he was interested in revisiting.

“What do you mean?” Red Robin asked. He was still standing by the door.

“Geez, sit down would you. I’m telling you my life story here,” Jason said, trying to lighten the mood.

Red Robin didn’t take the bait. He simply stood there and stared Jason down.

Jason sighed.

“The Martha Wayne Foundation funded the course. It paid the school fees for me, but that was it. I was still homeless...

“Homeless and struggling. I couldn’t get a job alongside the course because I had no address. And it was getting harder and harder to concentrate in class because...well...”

Jason cut himself off. Maybe best not to share the gritty and boring details of what being homeless was like.

“Anyway, I was on the verge of dropping out. That’s when Tim Drake joined Wayne Enterprise. He was only a kid you know, younger than you are now. But boy, did he make a difference.

“He did a whole bunch of stuff when he took over. I didn’t even know just how much he changed back then, I found out after.

“The thing that had the most immediate impact on me though, was that he opened up these living spaces for anyone signed up to the Martha Wayne Vocational Initiative.”

“The Martha Wayne Dormitories,” Red Robin said, absentmindedly.

“Oh, so you do know about it.”

Red Robin started, as if he had been speaking to himself and didn’t realise Jason could hear. “Er, yeah, vaguely. The Joker tried to blow one of them up.”

Jason grimaced. “That was my dorm.” Not that any of them living there knew they had been a breath away from being killed.

“Ah. Well, we stopped him. Batman and I...” Red Robin trailed off in the way he often did when talking about Batman.

“Yeah thanks for that. I guess I should take back what I said about you helping Gotham. I definitely wouldn’t be running this bakery if I had died.”

That got a small grin from Red Robin. Jason cheered internally.

Then Red Robin got thoughtful. “I thought everyone funded by the Martha Wayne Foundation was given a place at a Wayne Enterprise business. How come you didn’t work in one of those places?”

“Oh, no not everyone. There were a few placements, but I didn’t apply for those. Quite a few of the other students had kids and families to look after. I didn’t want to fight them for the Wayne Enterprise placements.”

Jason wished he could say the same for some of the assholes who were also in the programme, but nevermind. Everyone managed to get a job. It was fine.

“The programme gave us recommendations too. I would have been in one of the hotels near the city centre. But...well, no formal education and all that.

“I mean, the funding offered basic maths and English classes and qualifications, which I aced, but that wasn’t enough apparently.

“Plus, I still had no address. The dorms didn’t count because I had to leave the moment I finished the course.”

Red Robin gnawed on his lip. “That’s tough.”

“Yeah.”

Jason slid a tray of shaped dough into the oven.

“I thought for sure that it was over. That I’d go back to being homeless all over again.”

“But?”

“But Tim Drake strikes again.”

“Um...what?”

“When I was leaving the dorm, we got given this exit survey interview thing. And I told them about struggling to get a job because of a lack of address. They then directed me to the Wayne Enterprise Bank.”

“Where you got the loan?”

“Yep! I was originally only going to take out enough for a few months rent somewhere. Just so I could secure a permanent job. But they said that since I took part in the vocational course programme and certified, I was eligible to get a loan for a shop.”

To this day, Jason couldn’t quite believe it. They gave him money to not only buy this place, but also the flat above it. With enough left over for some extra security measures.

Okay so Jason might have chosen the cheapest and most awkward place possible in order to afford the aforementioned flat and extra security, but it was worth it.

“If you had money to open a shop anywhere, why here?” Red Robin asked. “Surely there were better places closer to the city centre.”

“They didn’t just give me an unlimited loan, Red,” Jason said with a roll of his eyes as he kneaded dough. “There were conditions. Strict conditions.”

Strict, but fair, in Jason’s opinion.

“This place was the cheapest. The owner was desperate to sell, but since it’s in the middle of nowhere, no one was buying.”

“No one except you,” Red Robin said, finally walking over to sit down on the kitchenette stool in the corner.

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t sure myself at first. But there were no competitors nearby and an established pool of potential customers. It was the best shot I had to be a baker.”

“This is one of the most dangerous places in Gotham,” Red Robin piped up.

“No it’s not,” Jason said. “No one ever comes down this way.”

“Uh-huh, that’s why you’ve got bulletproof glass covering the entire front of your shop.”

“Precautions.”

“And the industrial-grade extractor fans in the ceiling?”

“Er, more precautions.”

“And the shotgun behind the counter?!”

“Now that’s just fundamentals.”

Red Robin quirked an eyebrow at him. Which, Jason couldn’t actually see because of the cowl, but he could feel the judgement.

“Okay fine, Gotham is a dangerous hellhole and I want to stay safe. It’s not like I’ve got an emergency button I can just press when something goes wrong.”

It’s not like anyone ever made it in time to panic buttons being pressed anyway. The villains of Gotham were either quick and crafty like Two Face and Penguin, or crazy and overpowered like Bane and Poison Ivy.

Or they were both. Like the Joker.

Harley Quinn too, but rumours had it she was going on the straight and narrow.

Well, as straight as one could be for a bisexual.

“Besides, I would have put in these extra security measures even if I wasn’t on the edge of town. Got to do what I can to protect my assets and all that.”

The loan was generous, but Jason knew a miracle when he saw one. There was no way he’d ever get the same deal again if he let the bakery go under.

Just the concept of having assets, despite growing up with nothing, made Jason light-headed sometimes. He would cling to them for as long as he could.

“Preparing for all contingencies. Smart. Tim Drake would approve,” Red Robin said with a strange quirk to his lips.

Jason got the distinct feeling Red Robin was laughing at him. Which he didn’t mind too much, but he was not going to let this brat make fun of the person who literally changed his life for the better.

“Hey, none of that now. I owe him a lot. No making fun of Tim Drake in my bakery.”

Red Robin schooled his expression with a cough. “Right right.”

“I’m serious. He changed the whole playing field in Gotham you know. Homelessness went down by 37% after he set up the dorms. Though they only used numbers from a few registered charities, so I’m pretty sure it’s actually higher in reality.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and his Free Education Initiative gave more kids a chance at life than you think. And don’t even get me started on the Lucius Fox Community Centre.”

“That was mostly-”

“Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox? They were the ones who pioneered it yeah, but the actual project to build it and run it? That was completely headed by Tim Drake.”

Red Robin didn’t have a response to that. He was looking contemplative. Jason took that as his cue to continue.

“There’s the publicity aspect too. Bruce Wayne is great, there’s probably no one more idealistic than him in this city and he obviously wants to help. But his playboy attitude distracts people too much. Tim Drake is the one who takes that idealism and puts it into practise.”

There’s silence as Red Robin sat there and thought. Jason could practically hear the gears whirling away.

He ignored it and continued his work. Maybe this will get the kid to think about other ways to help Gotham without endangering his life every night.

“How do you know all this?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you know which projects were led by Tim Drake?”

“It’s on their website. Wayne Enterprise operates on a full transparency policy. You can literally look up every project they’re involved in. And who’s involved in it. The Martha Wayne Foundation even shows you where the donations go.”

“Huh...”

“Look it up, Red. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

“From Tim Drake?” there was that smile again. Honestly, this brat.

“We could all learn a thing or two from Tim Drake.”

Red Robin snickered.

“Hey.”

“I know, I know, you’re a fan. I’m not laughing at him, I’m just laughing at...I’m just laughing because it’s unexpected that’s all.”

“Look, I know you and the capes try to stay out of the spotlight in Gotham. But sometimes, it’s the things people don’t even talk about that makes the biggest difference.”

Red Robin said nothing. He simply looked down at his gloved hands in silence.

Chapter Text

Tim stared out at the Gotham skyline as the outer elevator descended Wayne Tower. The cloudy, overcast sky was grey and depressing. A visual summary of what the planet thinks of the city.

He looked down at the streets. At the tiny people walking along the pavement. At the bustling of cars.

How many of them were struggling? How many of them were just waiting for a chance to be a participating part of the world.

How many of them now had that chance because of something Tim did as a naive little kid.

He never thought about the aftermaths. He never thought about the individuals. He never thought what he did would have as much of an impact on another person’s life as it had Jason’s.

Tim had been a starstruck kid, desperately wanting to prove himself to Bruce, even though Bruce never asked Tim to prove himself. He wanted to show the others at the company that he wasn’t just a charity case.

He wanted to do good work. And he wanted to solve as many problems as he could.

That was all it had been.

The people working at the Martha Wayne Foundation were the ones that flagged up the issue. They were the ones who noticed that while plenty of people signed up for the vocational funding, many of them dropped out before they completed their certifications.

It didn’t look good, for a charity to pour money down the drain with nothing to show for it.

So Tim had solved the problem.

---

Several years ago

Tim frowned at the laptop screen filled with numbers and charts. He didn’t understand. Every person who was granted funding for a vocational course of their choosing passed the initial screening tests.

Care was taken to make sure only those who were unlikely to struggle with the course materials would be given funding. The first semester or so often showed good results and return-on-investment too.

So why? Why would people’s marks suddenly deteriorate?

He clicked through to another spreadsheet, trying to break things down. But the increased details only made things worse. Not only were there people whose marks would randomly deteriorate after months or even years of being in the top 10%. People would also just suddenly drop out with basically zero warning.

It made no sense.

Was it a mental health issue?

Did these people just change their minds?

Tim huffed in indignation. They better not have just changed their minds. Bruce put a lot of money into these charity schemes and if these uneducated poor people were just treating it as some casual hand out...

Maybe the selection process needed to be tightened? Only give it to people who are absolutely dedicated to learning?

That would be a logical adjustment usually. But Tim’s looked through the existing screening process and he couldn’t think of any way to make it more watertight than it already was.

“Hey Little Bird, you’re going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”

A finger poked at the crease between Tim’s eyebrow and Tim startled, nearly falling off the sofa. His brother smiled at him in amusement.

“Dick! When did you get back?”

“Just now. I texted, but you were clearly too engrossed in whatever you’re working on.”

Tim glanced at his phone, where the notification light blinked at him.

“Er yeah, I’m trying to work out this mystery...” Tim said, trailing off as his brain helpfully reminded him that the mystery was nowhere near solved.

“Case?” Dick asked, sprawling across the sofa perpendicular to the one Tim was sitting on.

“No, Martha Wayne Foundation. They’re losing money.”

Dick quirked an eyebrow at him. “It’s a charity, Timmy. It’s not supposed to make money.”

“I know! But people aren’t doing what the money is supposed to help them do. So the money is just being lost in the ether.”

“Do you know why?”

“No,” Tim admitted sullenly. “That’s the mystery.”

“Hmmm...” Dick laid there, legs hanging over the armrest, twirling one foot in circles as he thought.

“I’ve checked the screening process,” Tim said. “I’ve checked if there are admin issues, I’ve checked if there needs to be more information about what is required of students. Everything seems fine. People are just dropping out for no reason.”

“Well, if you can’t figure it out from the reported data, then maybe you need more direct data, from the source.”

“Huh?”

Dick gave him another amused look. As if Tim was a ruffled duckling that needs coddling. It was often followed by actual cuddles, so Tim didn’t mind the look as much as he pretended to.

He still made sure to scowl at Dick though. To keep up pretenses. That was something little brothers were supposed to do (according to the internet).

“Data from the source. As in, physically walk into one of the many branches of the Foundation and ask them directly.”

“What good would that do?” Tim frowned. All the relevant data was collated into his spreadsheets. That was the point of them.

“Timmy,” Dick sighed with melodramatic flair. “Sometimes, the best way to figure out how to help someone is to talk to them.”

Tim bit his lip. He didn’t really like talking to people. He was more of a background, get-things-done type of person.

Plus everyone treated him like a kid. Even though he was nearly 13.

Dick must have noticed his nerves because he jumped off the sofa. “I’ll go with you!”

“Really?” Tim asked. He let Dick pull him to his feet.

“Sure,” Dick wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders and gave him a soft shake. “What are big brothers for if not emotional support?”

Tim smiled as he felt something warm blossom inside of him.

---

Present day

The elevator dinged. 

Tim turned away from the glass wall overlooking the rest of Gotham as the doors slid smoothly open.

Tam was waiting on the other side. She was looking down, nervous, as she tended to be. Maybe a bit more nervous than usual.

Tim supposed it wasn’t too surprising. It’s been barely a month since the two of them escaped from Ra’s Al Ghul. Escaped from the masses of explosions Tim had set down for their getaway.

It probably felt weird for her to be back at the day job so soon. Maybe he should look into getting her some support. Though that could be hard given the whole please-keep-the-vigilantism-a-secret thing.

“Has anyone else arrived?” Tim asked, stepping through and accepting the tablet she handed him. He glanced at the notes and the new messages he’d received in the time he’d gone up to the penthouse for lunch and come back down.

“No, you’re the first.”

Good, he needed to show the rest of the board that he was ready and prepared and his little disappearing act had been an unusual blip caused by understandable emotional distress.

The official story was that he disappeared because of a family emergency, and then the company granted him a well-deserved sabbatical to recover from the hardships.

Tim was lucky he was boring enough that the media didn’t really bother prying into which family had the emergency. He was lucky that the media still considered him (and Dick) an outsider to the Wayne Family.

In an unexpected move, Dick had taken over as Chairman and Lucius as CEO. Tim had assumed Lucius would have handled both. So he was surprised when Dick stepped up to the plate.

Dick did pretty good too. Especially considering he had next to no experience in corporate business. There were no major burning fires for Tim to sort out.

The closest thing to a fire, if he would even call it that, was Emmett Bronson promising Walter Sinclair some stupid merger. That wasn’t Dick’s fault though. And there was still plenty of time to deal with it.

Tim entered the meeting room while Tam went to get him coffee.

It was strange, sitting in a meeting room like this again after spending six months flying around the globe. Tim felt something settling down inside of him, but he also felt restless, like he didn’t belong.

Which was ridiculous. If he belonged anywhere it was at Wayne Enterprise.

This was something he’d been trained in since birth.

An email from the Martha Wayne Foundation blinked into existence on his screen. Tim clicked on it.

After his chat with Jason last night (or this morning to be more accurate), Tim realised he hadn’t so much as checked in on the Foundation’s affairs since he got back last week.

It was embarrassing, especially with the way Jason admired this version of him, but Tim Drake never really paid that much attention to the Wayne charities unless there was a problem.

Something he intended to change.

The next time Jason saw him in the news, it would be about something Tim did himself. Something he proactively pioneered. Rather than just something Bruce assigned him to do.

A piece of work that Tim could feel proud of. A piece of work that wouldn’t make Tim feel conflicted or like an impostor in the presence of Jason’s praise.

But first, the board meeting.

The press was sent the announcement of his return yesterday, but Tim had actually been back for a week already. Today was his first official board meeting since returning, which was why PR thought it would be a good time to share the news.

This would also be Dick’s last official day at the office, and last official board meeting before handing the reins back over to Tim.

Speaking of, Dick was late. Tim had specifically asked him to get here early so they could do a final runthrough of the meeting’s keypoints.

As if the thought was a summons, Tim’s phone vibrated.

He better not be running late .

Dick was not running late. It was worse.

Dick: JL emergency. Aliens.

Tim sighed.

Dick: Bad aliens.
Dick: Take care of meeting?

Tim rolled his eyes. Obviously the aliens were antagonistic. They wouldn’t have asked for Batman in the middle of the day otherwise. Dick didn’t need to waste time stating the obvious.

Tim: Fine.

He waited a beat after sending the text, a habit he’d developed thanks to Dick’s tendency to close off all their conversations with an emoji. Either a heart or a smiley face or some inane flower that Tim didn’t even know existed.

Dick did not reply.

It took Tim far too long to realise Dick wasn’t going to reply. And he felt a sharp shame at how slow he’d become.

He stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

Things were different now.

Dick was different now.

The sooner he got used to this new reality the better.

Chapter Text

What am I doing here? Tim thought to himself.

He was parked on a familiar strip of road between the Gotham Fishmarket and the Gotham Commercial Port. A hundred yards away sat the small row of shops that Tim visited every morning.

It was weird seeing this road in the bright afternoon sun, Tim was so used to navigating this area by the flickering streetlamps. Seeing it in daylight felt like looking at a whole different world.

A whole different world that had exactly the same things in it. The same convenience store, the same barber’s, the same angler’s shop.

The same bakery.

He couldn’t actually see Ports Bakery from this angle, parked as far down the road as he was, but he knew it was there.

I should head back to the office . It was 2:12pm, the bakery will be shut in less than an hour. There was no reason for him to be here.

Tim got out of the car anyway.

In the back of his mind, he knew why he was here. Dick had flaked out on him at the meeting, as he had a habit of doing lately, and while Tim knew that it wasn’t actually his fault this time, it still hurt.

It hurt to be pushed aside.

Which was really rather self-centred of him. He’d checked the JL database before driving out to the ports, Green Lantern Corps had a dossier on the invading aliens. Highly hostile. War veterans. Known for their cruelty.

Dick was helping them stop a hostile army from torturing people and Tim was upset that he missed a meeting. That he wasn’t a priority.

He was so selfish.

That selfishness was precisely why he was here and he knew it.

Jason didn’t get called away to fight space wars. Jason paid attention.

Jason will be running the shop, he’ll be looking after the customers, you’re not going to be a priority here either.

Maybe Tim was here to remind himself of his place in the world. Remind himself that there were other people with needs more important than his.

He got out of the car.

The walk up to the bakery was short, a few minutes at most, but Tim took his time. He wasn’t here as Red Robin, he was here as Timothy Wayne.

Jason was the only one inside. He was wiping down the front display case, his back to the door.

Tim swallowed.

He hoped Jason wouldn't take one look at him and realise he was Red Robin. That would be extremely embarrassing. He reminded himself to lower the pitch of his voice a tad before speaking.

Then he pulled open the door.

Jason turned towards him almost immediately. “Welcome,” he said with a bright smile. It was clear that he was intending to turn back around, to finish wiping down the display case, to leave Tim free to browse the bread selection.

Instead, he did this hilarious double-take.

Tim worked hard not to laugh as Jason’s eyes widened in shock.

“Mr Drake! I-I mean, Mr Wayne!”

Tim grinned despite himself.

“Just Tim is fine.”

“Yes, Mr Tim,” Jason squeaked. 

Tim chuckled.

Jason’s eyes were still wide as saucers. He didn’t move or say a word as he practically shook on the spot.

Gosh, this was so funny. Though Tim was probably going to have to lead the conversation here.

“Do you make double espressos?” Tim asked, nodding at the coffee machine.

That seemed to snap Jason out of it at least. “Yes! Yes I do,” Jason said, hurrying behind the counter. “Eat in or take away?” he asked.

Tim hadn’t thought of that. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here. But he didn’t want to go back to the office yet. “Eat in.”

Jason grabbed an espresso cup and in seconds, the machine was dripping coffee into the tiny cup.

“I also do cakes,” Jason said, seeming to have calmed down a little bit. Though he was still staring at Tim as if he’d disappeared in a puff of smoke if Jason so much as blinked.

Tim didn’t know Jason made cakes. He’d only ever worked on bread and the rare pastries whenever Tim sat in the kitchen. But there they were, right inside the glass display case.

They were small cakes, the ones Tim would expect to find in a high-class boutique. Or a dessert specialist. Colourful and intricate.

It was a bit weird to see them displayed right next to croissants, danishes and doughnuts.

As Tim looked, he realised that the display case, which he had always thought was a single piece of furniture, was in fact two separate cases. The left side housed the colourful cakes. The right side held the pastries, cookies and doughnuts.

He’s visited this bakery so many times, sat at a table so many times, and he hadn’t even noticed something so simple. His observational skills clearly needed work.

“I have pistachio cake,” Jason piped up, “if that’s still your favourite.”

Favourite.

Tim didn’t eat cakes much. He most certainly did not have a favourite.

Why on earth would Jason think pistachio cake was his favourite.

“I know that interview was a couple of years ago now,” Jason admitted, looking more nervous than Tim had ever seen him. “I have other cakes too, if your tastes have changed. But the pistachio cake should taste roughly the same as the Wayne Royal Hotel’s.”

An interview at the Wayne Royal Hotel. That rang a bell.

Tim once had to promote Wayne Enterprise’s expansion in the hospitality sector. They were hyping up the opening of several high-end restaurants across the country.

The restaurant themselves hadn’t actually been built yet, so the interview took place at the restaurant in their flagship hospitality building. The Wayne Royal Hotel & Resort.

His interviewer, a perfectly pleasant young woman (who incidentally got murdered by her crazy boyfriend a month later), asked what he’d recommend.

Tim hadn’t read the hotel’s actual menu. It was one of his first interviews within the industry and he stupidly didn’t think to have recommendations prepared.

In his panic, he’d glanced at the cake display in the distance, and pointed at a random one.

“Which cake?”

“That green one, in the middle,” Tim said with a professional smile. He was never forgetting to read the menu of a restaurant ever again.

“What flavour is it?”

“Erm...”

He had been saved from answering her question thanks to Killer Croc flooding the sewers and causing the city’s alarm to blare.

The journalist must have gone back to the hotel to check the name of his ‘favourite cake’. Who knew it had been pistachio.

Did Tim even like pistachio cake?

Had he ever had it?

Better play it on the safe side.

“I still like them,” he smiled with his signature I’m-a-business-tycoon-prodigy-and-you-shall-treat-me-as-such smile. “But my tastes are definitely so much broader now.”

There. A nice, safe answer that said nothing. Sometimes, he loved his high society up-bringing.

“Your selection is impressive,” Tim added. Partly to change the subject, partly because it was true. Mostly because it was amusing to watch Jason simp. “A very wide variety of choices here.”

“Thank you,” Jason breathed out, flustered and looking as if he was about to faint.

Tim bit his lip to not burst out laughing.

“How much is the espresso?” he asked instead.

“Oh no, Mr Tim, I can’t possibly.”

“Just Tim is fine, and I insist.”

“Really, I can’t. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.”

Tim faked surprise. “Oh?”

He was half-expecting Jason to gush. To go into the details of the Martha Wayne Dormitories. Or to explain his participation in the Martha Wayne Vocational Initiatives.

Hearing all that had been nice. Hearing it again would be nicer.

Jason did not gush. He just hesitated, gave Tim this mildly confused glance.

“Isn’t that why you’re here? You regularly check up on people who have benefitted from the Martha Wayne Foundation don’t you?”

It was Tim’s turn to be startled. “How did you-?”

“The Martha Boards,” Jason clarified. “Alumni of the Vocational Initiatives or people part of the Home Replacement programme. They’ll mention you visiting them and offering help, especially the struggling ones.”

Okay, so Tim had severely underestimated the amount of information Jason kept tabs on.

The Martha Boards were a set of online message boards that Tim and his team had introduced to facilitate information sharing and to build up a community amongst those who would otherwise have felt isolated.

As far as Tim could tell, Jason did not have an account.

The boards were public though, to assist in the Foundation’s publicity efforts. It was easy enough for anyone to check back regularly or to lurk anonymously.

Jason wasn’t kidding when he said that he was a fan.

This was stalker fan levels.

Tim wondered if Jason’s read every single article about him or if Jason limited himself to things linked to the charity work. He wondered what Jason thought about that time Tim made Mr Moore’s son cry. He wondered whether Jason knew the name of all his (made up) exes.

Asking would be unprofessional. Asking would not be something Timothy Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprise, did.

And so, as much as Tim wanted to grill him on his opinion of Timothy Wayne’s public image from the eyes of a civilian mostly uninvolved with high society politics, he refrained.

“Refusing to let me pay is not going to land you an article in the Gotham Gazette,” Tim said. Because that’s what he did sometimes. The PR team would find especially impressive success stories, usually involving families, and Tim would visit and there’d be an interview etc.

“That’s not why-” Jason looked conflicted, as if unsure of the best way to proceed. It made sense, to refuse Tim too much would be rude too. But to accept Tim’s money now would give the impression that Jason was only trying to get a benefit of some sort.

Jason finally settled on, “I don’t care about appearing in the papers.”

Tim decided to take pity on him, he gave Jason a smile and said in a light, humorous tone, “As long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Jason smiled back and visibly relaxed. Good.

“So, should I just sit anywhere?” Tim asked, gesturing to the tables.

He eyed his usual seat, but he was here as Timothy Wayne. He needed to distance himself from Red Robin as much as possible. That was why he asked for an espresso.

“Yes, of course,” Jason said over his shoulders, having turned around to grab a plate.

Tim headed for the smallest table. The one that was next to the counter.

It gave him the best view of the street beyond (and wasn’t that a strange sight now that he’s here during the day) and had more leg room because there were only two chairs at this table compared to the usual four.

It did mean his back was to the kitchen, but Tim didn’t feel uncomfortable.

In fact, as Jason set down the espresso cup and a green cake topped with pistachios, Tim realised he felt content. Content and relaxed.

He picked up his espresso cup and smiled.

Chapter Text

Tim Drake was in his bakery.

Tim Drake was in his bakery.

Jason wanted to cry. No, he wanted to fall to his knees and prostrate himself. No, he wanted to fall to his knees, cling to Tim Drake’s legs and sob out his thanks.

Don’t do that Jason, you’ll ruin the suit.

Not to mention it would probably freak him out. That would be an interesting headline, ‘Tim Drake Runs Screaming From Bakery He Funds’.

Although if it came down to it, Jason could probably catch him before he told the press. He was a lot smaller in person than Jason had expected. Jason would bet that he could outrun the guy and...and...

Okay, no. No making contingency plans in which Tim Drake gets kidnapped just so Jason could keep the bakery.

Jason would just have to impress Tim Drake the good old-fashioned way, with excellent customer service and brilliant baking.

He was so glad that his bread and cakes were all ready and sitting in their proper places. He’s not sure he could cope with making something from scratch right now.

“Do you make double espressos?”

Damn it. The one thing he needed to make from scratch.

No no, espressos were easy. He didn’t have to do much. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.

“Yes! Yes I do. Eat in or takeaway?”

Tim Drake took a moment to consider it. As if mulling over his options. Jason used the opportunity to take slow and deep breaths.

He had known this was a possibility. Tim Drake made a habit of visiting businesses funded by the Martha Wayne Foundation. Jason didn’t think his bakery, being as out of the way as it was, would ever interest the CEO of Wayne Enterprise. Especially since Jason was not struggling to repay his debt, and had never missed a repayment so far.

“Eat in,” Tim Drake finally decided.

His voice was different to what Jason had expected too. Deeper. By just a smidge. A minor shift in pitch compared to the videos Jason had seen.

Jason wondered if it had something to do with the audio equipment. Maybe all celebrities sounded different in videos compared to how they are in real life.

Aside from his deeper voice and his smaller size, Tim Drake looked exactly the same as his pictures and videos.

His mannerism was the same too. The deliberation and the care he took with every single decision. Like the way he was currently studying the cakes in the display. No doubt scrutinising every label.

Gosh, it was so strange seeing him here in person.

“Your selection is impressive. A very wide variety of choices here,” Tim Drake complimented kindly, making Jason’s head spin.

“Thank you,” he managed to stammer. He needed to breathe. Or he was going to faint.

“How much is the espresso?” Tim Drake said, changing the subject because apparently he was the type that can just casually throw out compliments and then move on.

Jason was so busy trying to calm his heartbeat that he almost missed what Tim Drake said.

Then the words registered.

There was absolutely no way Jason could take his money. He knew this was extremely unprofessional. The professional response would be to give the regular price, but Jason couldn’t. He just really couldn’t.

After all, if it weren’t for Tim Drake, this bakery wouldn’t even exist.

Jason told him as much.

Tim Drake seemed confused by that revelation. “Oh?”

That was...surprising.

Maybe Tim Drake didn’t know this place was funded by the Martha Wayne Foundation. Maybe Tim Drake was just in the area for some reason and saw a shop with a coffee machine.

Jason decided to ask, “Isn’t that why you’re here? You regularly check up on people who have benefitted from the Martha Wayne Foundation don’t you?”

Tim Drake looked perplexed.

“How did you-?” Tim Drake began, frowning at him.

Oh no, was that not common knowledge? Jason had assumed it was common knowledge.

The Martha Boards were open message boards, you don’t even need an account to read them. Jason just liked browsing it now and then.

Maybe people don’t usually browse the Boards. Or maybe it was bad manners to share that he knew what Tim Drake might be up to. Jason wasn’t sure.

He decided to clarify either way, explained that he got his information from the messages other shopkeepers left on the Martha Wayne Boards. Mostly so Tim Drake didn’t think he was some kind of stalker.

Tim Drake took everything in stride. He made a light joke that helped calm Jason down, then he sat down at the small table.

It wasn’t until Jason took the espresso cup and set it on a saucer that Jason realised Tim Drake never said if he wanted the pistachio cake or not.

Was this a test? Was Jason supposed to figure it out?

He shrugged and plated one up.

Then he began to panic.

There was less than an hour until closing time. The displays were still filled to the brim with cakes and bread and other things. Did Tim Drake suspect? Was he onto Jason?

It must look suspicious, to have so much leftover food at the end of the day. Or maybe this was what high-end restaurants did all the time. Jason can certainly imagine those high-class places wasting food without a thought.

Jason glanced furtively at Tim Drake. The CEO seemed to be staring out the window contently.

Maybe Tim Drake hadn’t noticed.

Or maybe he didn’t care.

There was no way to find out without asking. Jason was definitely not asking.

Instead, he put the espresso and pistachio cake on a tray and brought it over.

Tim Drake did not eat the cake immediately. Instead, he sipped carefully at the espresso whilst staring at the extremely boring view of an empty street and the giant shipping containers opposite the bakery.

Jason couldn’t tell for sure, since Tim Drake had his back to him, but he seemed relaxed. He didn’t seem anxious anyway. Not that Jason would know what an anxious Tim Drake looked like.

Finally, finally, Tim Drake picked up the fork and took a bite of cake.

Jason practically vibrated on the spot. He was so nervous.

Did Tim Drake like it? Was it subpar? Jason learnt the recipe directly from the chefs at Wayne Royal Hotel during his certification course. The ones who made the original cake, the cake Tim Drake had cited as his favourite during his interview with Lorna Bishop (rest in peace). It should taste exactly the same.

Ingredients you moron. You couldn’t afford the same quality of ingredients.

Right, but Jason adjusted for that. He adjusted the recipe to take his lower quality ingredients into account. So the taste should be the same. Or as close as Jason could make it.

Maybe Tim Drake could tell the difference. Maybe Tim Drake was only eating the cake out of politeness. He was most certainly eating it a lot slower and a lot more reluctantly than Jason expected considering it was his favourite food.

Then again, Tim Drake did say his tastes were broader now. He had been 13 during that interview. Tastes often changed when a person matured, or so Jason read. He couldn’t really tell whether his own tastes changed compared to his child-self on account of not having had much (any) choice in food as a child.

Tim Drake didn’t comment on the cake during his entire stay. He finished the whole thing, which Jason decided must be a good sign, and downed the rest of his coffee before standing up to leave.

“Thank you for the food,” Tim Drake said.

“Thank you for existing!” Jason blurted out, before the thought fully processed in his brain. He snapped his jaw shut in mortification, eyes widening in horror.

Tim Drake just gave him an amused, if slightly confused, smile. Then he left the shop.

---

Red Robin was laughing at him.

Red Robin was clutching his stomach and outright laughing at him.

“It’s not funny!” Jason protested. Even though, if he was honest with himself, it was a little bit funny.

“It’s hilarious!” Red Robin exclaimed. He followed that up with more laughing.

Jason shook his head in exasperation.

“I’m serious! I was this close to bursting into tears and blubbering about how thankful I am for everything he’s done. It was so hard to stay professional.”

Red Robin snorted.

"I wish I'd been there," he said with a strange edge to his tone. “Watching you trip over your own feet must have been a sight.”

Jason scowled at him.

“One day, you are going to meet someone you’ve admired for a long long time and you’re not going to know what to do with yourself. We’ll see who’s laughing then.”

“Oh, been there, done that,” Red Robin said casually. “How do you think I got this gig?”

Jason blinked.

“You became Robin because you were a fan?”

Red Robin’s only answer was a wide, toothy grin. Jason couldn’t tell whether Red was messing with him or not.

“Anyway, you don’t even know the guy,” Red Robin pointed out.

“So?”

“Well, what if he’s secretly an asshole?”

“If he’s secretly an asshole, then he’s an asshole that saved my life. What’s your point?”

“But what if he’s actually a super flawed human being?”

Jason frowned at Red, this was a very weird line of questioning.

“Then he’s a super flawed human being that saved my life. Still not seeing your point here, Red.”

“Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to put all your faith into one person?”

Jason barked out a laugh. “What? I’m not putting all my faith into him. I’m a fan, I appreciate what he did and what he continues to do for Gotham.”

“There were other people involved, you know.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So how come you don’t appreciate them?”

“I do appreciate them.”

Red looked confused.

Jason was confused too. And sort of incredulous.

“Appreciation is not a piece of dough, Red,” Jason said. He chopped off a piece of dough in demonstration. “I don’t just run out of it after assigning each piece to a person.”

Red was looking contemplative.

It happened sometimes, they’d be talking about one thing, and then before he knew it, Red Robin’s brain was clearly running a mile a minute about something else.

Jason just wished he knew what. Jason just wished he knew why him being a fan of a billionaire philanthropist was making him so introspective.

“What’s this really about?” Jason asked.

Red Robin looked up. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself.

“Well...you see...back when I was-” he cut himself off mid sentence, staring at the backdoor.

Jason frowned and followed his gaze. Then nearly jumped right out of his skin.

Batman was standing in the doorway.

Chapter Text

Tim stared, dumbfounded, at the sight of Dick looming in the doorway.

Jason was gaping. Tim could see it from the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t blame him, anyone would be shocked to find Batman standing in their kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked. Partly to save Jason from the silent intimidation, partly because...because what was Dick doing here?

“We need to talk,” Dick growled. His Batman voice wasn’t quite as low as Bruce’s, and definitely less gravelly, but Jason didn’t know that. It was plenty threatening all on its own.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said, unsure of what Dick wanted.

It clearly wasn’t an emergency. If it had been an emergency, the alarm would have sounded. 

Tim couldn’t figure out why else Dick would be here though, he was too shocked to think.

“Hn,” Dick said, then prowled out of the bakery like an angry panther.

Tim hurried off the chair he’d been perched on.

Jason was still gaping. Tim might have laughed if he wasn’t so confused himself.

“Be right back,” Tim threw over his shoulders as he followed Batman into the night. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long.

Dick waited for him by the bridge. The tiny, metal, pedestrian bridge that connected the fishmarket to this side of the container ports. Off in the distance, Tim could see the lights of the fishmarket as the fishmongers got to work.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked again, once he was within earshot.

“We need to talk,” Dick said quietly, using his regular voice now. Tim supposed they were far enough away from potentially prying ears but it was still a little risky.

"About what?" he asked, wondering what could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until morning. 

"You need to stop visiting this bakery."

That threw Tim for a loop. And he was confused enough to begin with.

"I'm sorry, what?" 

"You need to stop visiting," Dick repeated. "You're here every night. It's not healthy."

Tim didn't know what to say. His brain wasn't sure which part to focus on first. The fact that Dick had apparently been checking his tracker every night. The fact that, for some inane reason, Dick seemed to have decided Jason or the bakery was dangerous.

The fact that Dick seemed to think seeing a friend on a regular basis was 'unhealthy' now.

It was less than a year ago that Dick had insisted Tim visited his friends at Titans Tower. Insisted that spending time with them would help distract him from the ‘crazy notion that Bruce was alive’.

Part of Tim wished he’d listen to Dick’s advice. The other part knew that if Tim hadn’t gone on his journey, no one would have realised that Bruce was very much alive. One of life’s many lose-lose situations.

Bruce wasn’t even home yet. Tim didn’t know the current status of the retrieval mission. The JL database only said ‘In Progress’ and Tim hadn’t felt comfortable asking Dick about it.

He could have asked Cassie or any of the other people he knew in the Justice League he supposed. But it’s been tough talking to people lately. Jason was probably the only person he felt comfortable around these days. Thanks, in no small part, to the fact that Jason had nothing to do with vigilantes or superheroes.

The idea that Dick wanted Tim to stop visiting was absurd.

Unless...

“Why?” Tim asked, fear creeping up the back of his neck. “What did you find?”

Please don’t let Jason be part of the criminal underworld. Tim wasn’t sure he could handle it.

He’d done his own checks, of course he had. But he’d found nothing that would warrant a deep dive into Jason’s background. It was entirely possible that Dick came across something Tim missed.

Tim gripped the edges of his cape as he waited for Dick’s answer.

“Nothing,” Dick revealed. “I found absolutely nothing. That’s the problem.”

Tim frowned.

“So you’re saying I should avoid him because you didn’t find any evidence of a problem?”

“I’m saying you should avoid him because he has no legal paper trail.”

“That’s impossible, he took a loan with Wayne Enterprise bank, that right there is a clear paper trail. A legal and legitimate paper trail.”

“His business records are all fine; I’m talking about his personal records.”

Why on earth was Dick checking Jason’s personal records?

Tim wasn’t the most ethical when it came to background checks, but even he made sure not to pry too much. Dick didn’t even know Jason.

“I tried everywhere,” Dick continued, “there’s no hospital records. There’s nothing in the GCPD database.”

“Well there wouldn’t be would there,” Tim said pointedly. “He’s not committed a crime.”

At least, Jason’s not been caught committing a crime. Being homeless was technically a crime in Gotham, the police just never bothered to arrest anyone.

“The point is, he’s an anomaly and a safety risk. You need to stop visiting him so much.”

Tim didn’t know what to say. His mind had been reeling since the start of this conversation.

“In fact, you should stop whatever this is you have with him. It could be a trap.”

“It’s not a trap!” Tim protested. “You can’t just decide he’s dangerous because he doesn’t have a parking ticket in his records.”

“No, I’m saying there are no records at all. No school. No previous address. No dentist appointments. Nothing. He could be anyone.”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know exactly why there are no records?”

“Regular citizens don’t have a giant blank space where their life should be.”

“But he’s not your regular citizen is he? If you really checked up on his background like you said, then you’d have seen that he was homeless.”

“Uh huh, a homeless person who just happened to learn about the Martha Wayne Vocational courses.”

“Yes!” Tim exclaimed. “Because there were outreach campaigns! Campaigns that specifically targeted homeless people. You know this!”

You were there, Tim didn’t say.

“Besides, if he really was dangerous, don’t you think he’d have put in some false records?” Tim challenged. “There not being any paper trail is more evidence that he was actually homeless!”

Gotham was notorious for losing track of its missing people. Tim suspected a hidden human trafficking ring somewhere deep in the city’s infrastructure, but he’d never found evidence for this in all his years as Robin.

Dick sighed. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt when this all comes crashing down.”

And wasn’t that ironic.

“Jason has done the complete opposite of hurting me in the entire time I’ve known him,” Tim said.

“Which is exactly why I’m worried!” Dick exclaimed. “He’s suspicious and you’re throwing all your usual caution out the window for no reason!”

“It’s not for no reason. It’s-”

But Tim didn’t want to share why he found so much comfort in this random civilian baker who knew next to nothing about him. He didn’t want to explain to Dick that he trusted Jason to not hurt him more than he trusted Dick to not hurt him.

He didn’t want to admit that when Dick fired him as Robin, his world had come crashing down.

Tim was already sitting amongst the scattered rubble that was once his life. Dick had done little to help.

And that hurt plenty on its own.

“Besides, Jason’s not suspicious at all. Every single thing in his history checks out,” Tim said, somehow managing to keep his voice level despite the rapid thumping of his heart. Despite the rising discomfort at Dick’s disapproval.

“He’s dangerous.”

It’s so ridiculous that Tim wanted to laugh.

“You’re dangerous,” Tim said. “I’m dangerous. Jason is the least dangerous one here.”

Dick was looking at him in pity. As if Tim was an addict that didn’t realise he was addicted.

And maybe he was. Maybe he was addicted to this bakery, maybe he was addicted to not feeling like an outsider. Maybe he was addicted to the easy conversations and the ability to just be himself.

Because the bottom line was, Tim felt comfortable here. And he didn’t have it in him to think that was a bad thing.

“He’s an unknown,” Dick insisted. “This is a safety risk.”

“No he’s not,” Tim snapped. “But do you know what is a safety risk? This unfounded paranoia you have around him.”

“I don’t-”

“We don’t look into the backgrounds of random civilians!” Tim said harshly, barely refraining from yelling. “We don’t pull out their personal records, we don’t check what school they went to, we don’t get worried just because they don’t have a criminal record!”

“That’s not-”

“Right now you’re the only unknown in this equation. You and your baseless suspicion. So how about you stay away from Jason. Stay away from this bakery. And just...just stay away.”

Tim turned on his heels and began walking back towards the bakery.

“Robin wait.”

That did it. Tim spun around.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m not Robin anymore! ”

He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t look behind him. He simply ran. Ran back to the one place in the world where he felt like himself.

Chapter Text

Dick was exhausted.

He had been fighting aliens for the past 14 hours and all he wanted to do was to go home and sleep his problems away.

Of course, he never got what he wanted these days.

“I am a trained assassin. Your worries are unfounded,” Damian said haughtily.

“You were given explicit orders to stay home tonight. Orders you ignored,” Dick said, trying to be as stern as possible. He was too tired for this.

“Gotham needed a protector,” Damian said. “You were unavailable and so-”

“You are not ready to patrol alone,” Dick snapped, patience wearing thin. “How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

He could practically hear Damian grind his teeth.

“I’m ready!” Damian insisted. “If you would just trust me-”

“Trust?!” Dick was incredulous. The nerve of this kid. “I trusted you to listen to me. I trusted you to follow my instructions.”

He could see the exact moment Damian lost his temper.

“Shut up!” Damian yelled, stamping his feet. “It was an emergency! I protected the citizens of Gotham! I did nothing wrong!!”

Before Dick could say another word, Damian ran towards the elevator.

He sighed.

“We’re talking about this in the morning!” he called out.

Then he slumped down in his chair.

The day had started off bad enough. A Justice League emergency meant that he had to bail on Tim last minute.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, the hostile aliens had been very...persistent.

He hadn’t had a moment to check up on home in the entire 14 hours he’d been fighting.

It was no wonder that Damian got worried really.

Maybe Dick should have addressed that to begin with.

Well, it was too late now.

Tim was never like this when he was Robin. Tim listened. He would never have run off on his own without supervision.

Well, except for that time with Penguin.

And that stupid bomb incident with the Joker.

That one had been a close call. But it all worked out in the end, and Dick could see how things would been a lot worse if Tim hadn’t disobeyed Bruce’s orders. So it didn’t count.

But aside from those rare emergency situations, Tim was great at listening to instructions and even better at working as a team.

Dick missed those days. Life had been so much simpler.

Where was Tim anyway?

Maybe he was on his way back. Maybe they could do some cooldown stretches together like they used to. That’d be nice.

Or maybe Tim would give him the cold shoulder and ignore him.

Not that Dick could blame him. It may have been a world-wide emergency, but Dick had completely abandoned him during an important board meeting.

Tim would understand, his mind supplied. Tim had always been very understanding.

At least, he used to be.

Maybe a quick look at his whereabouts wouldn’t hurt.

Just a simple check-in. A tiny reassurance that Tim was safe, to see whether it’d be worth waiting up for him. This was a great opportunity for them to catch up too, since Damian was unlikely to visit the cave and interrupt them.

He loaded up the trackers map.

Tim was at the bakery. Again.

It was hard to describe the tidal wave of emotions that ran through him at the sight of Tim’s tracker being in the exact same spot as before. The fury at Tim’s apparent obsessive need to visit that stupid bakery.

Dick was in the batmobile and driving before he’d fully registered it.

The anger and indignation did not die down until he had walked through the back door.

The baker did not immediately notice him.

Tim also took a second longer than usual to see him standing there.

Delayed situational awareness. That was dangerous. Even if Jason Todd was a civilian, this was a bad influence.

When the baker did finally notice him, he yelped and stumbled back, dropping his dough cutter in the process.

Dick couldn’t deny the satisfaction of seeing that. It was petty, but stroked his bruised ego amongst his battered emotions.

That wasn’t important though. Tim was the important one here.

“We need to talk,” he said to Tim.

Then he left the kitchen, trusting that Tim would follow.

His throat was killing him. He hadn’t even used it all that much during the fight against the aliens. Then again, 14 hours of giving orders intermittently was probably still quite a lot of talking.

He didn’t want to have this conversation in the Batman voice, so he walked a bit further than necessary. All the way to the little, metal footbridge that connected this part of the ports to the fishmarket.

There was no one around. They were far enough away from any buildings. Even if they screamed, it would be difficult for people to hear them over the crashing waves.

Bruce would probably frown at him for taking unnecessary risks but Bruce wasn’t here.

Besides, the whole point of this conversation was to stop Tim from taking unnecessary risks.

Dick was nervous. He didn’t know whether Tim would get defensive. He didn’t know whether it would end like every other conversation they’ve had since Bruce died.

No, not died. Since Bruce was lost in time. Dick needed to remember that. But it was so hard when Bruce wasn’t here.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked the moment he was within earshot. Dick wanted to bundle him up and take him home. But that would not be well-received.

“We need to talk.”

"About what?"

"You need to stop visiting this bakery."

"I'm sorry, what?" 

Dick hesitated. Maybe he should have waited until morning. But he was here now.

"You need to stop visiting. You're here every night. It's not healthy."

He held his breath for the explosion. For the fall out. There weren’t any.

In fact, Tim looked worried himself. As if he was open to the idea that there might be a problem at this bakery.

“Why? What did you find?” he asked.

Dick felt bolstered. Maybe Tim noticed something himself from visiting so often. Maybe they could compare notes.

Not that Dick had all that many notes. That was part of the entire problem. That was why he was here.

So he told Tim what he knew.

Tim didn’t share Dick’s concerns about the lack of documentation.

At first, Dick assumed Tim didn’t quite get how little documentation there was. But as they spoke, it became increasingly clear that Tim just...didn’t care.

It was a behaviour Dick was familiar with. Tim was too invested in this bakery to objectively consider other options. It was something Bruce used to do a lot. Apparently Tim had learnt the same bad habits.

Dick had to tread carefully here.

He had to be kind and sympathetic.

“He’s an unknown. This is a safety risk,” he said, as gently as he could.

“No he’s not! But do you know what is a safety risk? This unfounded paranoia you have around him!” Tim snarled.

Dick rocked back as if Tim had thrown a rock right at his face.

He wasn’t...he wasn’t paranoid.

“I don’t-” Dick began, but Tim cut him off.

“We don’t look into the backgrounds of random civilians! We don’t pull out their personal records, we don’t check what school they went to, we don’t get worried just because they don’t have a criminal record!”

Okay, that was a good point. But, “That’s not-”

Tim refused to let him speak, talking over him in a frenzied rant.

“So right now you’re the only unknown in this equation. You and your baseless suspicion. So how about you stay away from Jason. Stay away from this bakery. And just.........just stay away!”

Dick was shaking.

His throat had closed up.

He could hardly breathe.

Tim was walking away. Dick couldn’t let him walk away. Not again.

He forced his jaw to move. He forced his voice to work.

“Robin wait.”

There was a moment where Tim paused, where the entire line of his back went rigid. In that moment, Dick knew he had said the wrong thing.

Tim spun around, his cloak billowing out in a wide arc behind him.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m not Robin anymore!” Tim screamed.

And then Tim ran. Literally ran, as if he couldn’t stand being in Dick’s presence for a second longer.

As if a potentially suspicious baker was more comforting to him than his own brother.

Dick closed his eyes.

He stood there, for a long time. Every bit of their conversation swirled endlessly in his head. Every single thing he could have done differently, done better, nudged at him like a burning hot poker. 

He was exhausted.

So exhausted.

He just wanted to curl up in bed and ignore the world for a bit.

But he couldn’t do that. In the morning, he’d have to talk with Damian. Work through whatever it was that made Damian think it’d be okay to patrol alone.

In the afternoon he’d have to write up his report of the alien attack and add it to the JLA database, and collate all the different reports and put it together for the Green Lanterns Corps, hopefully in a way that will convince them to allow more Lanterns to stay near Earth (Dick would be more than happy to leave the intergalactic battles to the intergalactic heroes).

He’d actually have to show his face at Wayne Enterprise at some point. Present his excuses, find out what he missed at the meeting yesterday. Suffer through the disapproving whispers as he packed up his office a day later than planned.

He didn’t have the luxury to curl up in bed.

He didn’t have the luxury to stand here in the middle of nowhere and contemplate his life either.

With great reluctance, Dick moved towards the car.

He stared at the bakery as he got steadily closer. From this angle, it was nothing more than a brick wall. There were no decorations, no advertisements, no anything. Just a blank and unassuming wall attached to a building.

Dick walked alongside the mini-inlet that was behind the row of shops, sticking to the edge so he would be as far from the bakery as possible. It wasn’t much space for a road, barely the width of two cars. And that was including the area occupied by the bins.

If Tim came out of the bakery, he would be well within hearing range.

Tim did not come out of the bakery.

Instead, the baker walked out.

Dick froze as their eyes met.

The baker was holding a large bag of rubbish in his hand. Clearly he didn’t come out because he heard Dick walking past. Clearly it was just unfortunate timing.

But with the way Jason Todd was glaring at him right now, glaring as if Dick had killed his mother, Dick wouldn’t be surprised if he threw that bag of rubbish at him.

He didn’t. He simply walked to the bins, threw the bag in and then turned and glared at Dick some more.

Dick thought that would be it, that the baker would glare at him until he got in the car and drove away.

But after a moment of glaring, the baker squared himself up and walked over.

Dick automatically stood up straighter in response.

“Look,” Jason Todd kept his voice low. “I don’t know what the fuck you said. Or what the fuck you want. But maybe lay off the kid for a while.”

Dick barely remembered to use the Batman voice, “This does not concern you.” 

A lie, obviously. But the baker didn’t need to know that.

“I don’t give a shit. Leave him the fuck alone.”

“He’s my brother,” Dick said, indignation creeping into his tone whether he liked it or not. “I’m not going to abandon my own brother.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mr Brother, but that is one depressed kid. And whatever you’re doing is only making him more miserable.”

That was ridiculous.

“He’s not depressed,” Dick scoffed.

Sad maybe. Still in mourning for Kon probably, if the new costume was any indication.

Definitely in denial, especially when it came to his attachment to the bakery. But he’s not depressed. Dick would know if Tim was depressed.

The baker was giving him an incredulous look.

“He’s not,” Dick repeated.

Jason shook his head, slowly. “No wonder he hates you.”

It was like a punch to the gut.

Dick wanted to deny it. He wanted to defend himself, he wanted to tell this stupid baker all the reasons why that wasn’t true. But the words were crackling in his head like static. He couldn’t say a thing.

“Stay away from my bakery.” Jason said as he turned his back on Dick and went inside.

Chapter Text

It was just after the lunch rush. Jason placed the lid back on the large pot and stepped back.

Only three more batches of bread left. And a few more of the cakes. Then he’d be done with the baking for the day.

Although...where was Sasha? Usually she’d be heading into the back by now.

Jason nudged the door open.

“Sasha? Hasn’t your shift ended?”

Sasha didn’t reply. She was staring at something by the bread baskets and completely ignoring the customer in front of her.

“Sasha?” Jason walked fully into the shop. He followed her gaze, curious as to what was keeping her attentio-

Holy hell. That was one handsome man.

Jason blinked, half wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no, the very handsome man was still standing there, by the bread baskets, pondering whether he should get the baguette, or the sourdough, or the wholemeal bloomer.

The customer waiting by the till cleared his throat meaningfully. Jason snapped out of it.

“Sorry sir,” Jason said as he tapped Sasha on the shoulder. That seemed to jolt her out from whatever daze she was in. “Sasha, don’t you have to go? It’s 2pm.”

“Oh! Oh yeah, yeah, I do.” She glanced at the disgruntled customer as if noticing him for the first time.

“I’ve got this, you head home,” Jason said.

“R-right,” she said. Jason watched her walk reluctantly towards the back door, not looking away from the guy by the bread baskets until the very last moment.

Honestly, he couldn’t blame her.

“I’m sorry about that,” Jason said to the unamused man in front of him. “What can I get you?”

The man pushed the bread that was sitting on the counter. Brioche. Which was what he always got. That and a coffee.

“Anything else?” Jason asked anyway.

“This and a latte,” the man said, like clockwork.

“Of course.”

Jason turned towards the coffee machine, very aware that the handsome guy had now joined the queue.

Focus Jason. Don’t make the wrong coffee for your regular customer just because there’s a hot guy in the shop.

Thankfully, muscle memory was a powerful thing, and Jason finished the latte with no problems.

The regular customer paid and took his order like always. There were luckily no snide remarks about Sasha so Jason is fairly sure he’ll be back next week like always.

And then it was just Jason and the handsome man in the shop.

The handsome man who was even more handsome up close. Oh goodness.

The handsome man who was looking at Jason with far more caution than Jason was used to. Maybe it was his baker’s jacket. Maybe the handsome guy was wondering why the baker was at the till.

It was either that or Jason just looked naturally intimidating to him.

Jason tried a disarming smile.

The handsome guy’s eyes widened, as if in shock. And then he literally took a step back.

Okay, so it was half a step, but Jason still felt a little insulted. He couldn’t be that intimidating.

Jason schooled his expression, trying to appear as professional as he possibly could.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

“Um, this.” The man puts the paper bag with the bread on the counter. The sourdough.

“Anything else?”

“Oh, um,” the man glanced at the cookie jar. Then at the board at the back with the list of coffee. “And a mocha, please. To go.”

He still looked like Jason was going to bite his head off. Or maybe scream at him. Which was highly unfair, since Jason was pretty sure they’d never met before.

“No need to be so nervous,” Jason couldn’t help but say as he placed the coffee cup on the counter. “I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

Shit.

That was not professional at all.

The man looked taken aback. His eyebrows had shot up so high, they were disappearing into his hairline.

Jason was about to apologise. Whilst also making a mental note that hot guys were clearly out of his league and he shouldn’t even think about attempting to flirt. But the hot guy beat him to it.

“I don’t share my kinks until after the third date,” the hot guy said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

Oh. Oh...

Was he? Was he flirting back?

Did this even count as flirting?

Jason didn’t know. But the hot guy wasn’t acting like Jason was about to murder him for buying bread anymore.

Although...that smile was strangely familiar...

Jason ignored it. He never got to flirt. And certainly not with super hot guys like this one.

“Wow, what do you do on the fourth date then? Test them all out?”

Note to self: take flirting classes. Because what the fuck are you saying, Jason.

“Maybe you should try and find out,” the hot guy said, his tone was on just the right side of joking and mysterious. Because unlike Jason, the hot guy obviously did know how to flirt.

Must get a lot of practice. Looking like that.

In fact, Jason wouldn’t be surprised if the hot guy was secretly a celebrity. He was certainly cute enough. In fact, he looked just like...

Just like...

Jason gaped.

“Oh my god, you’re Dick Grayson.”

Hot guy binked. Jason realised belatedly that he had completely ruined their flirtatious banter with the random revelation. Damn it.

“Y-yeah,” Dick Grayson said. He looked nervous again. Maybe he was trying to be incognito.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Dick Grayson gave him a gentle smile. “It’s okay.”

“Did Tim Drake recommend this place?” Jason asked. He must have, right? Why else would Dick Grayson be here?

“Y-yeah!” Dick said, somehow seeming ten times more nervous than before. “He said this place was nice and...um...quiet.”

That made sense. Jason had been surprised that Tim Drake had visited for no reason yesterday. But Jason’s bakery was definitely out of the way enough to give a harried CEO some space.

“Did he like the cake?” Jason asked. He had been dying to know, but never did get up the courage to ask Tim Drake himself.

“Cake?”

“Yes, the pistachio cake,” given the way Dick Grayson seemed pretty lost, Tim Drake must not have liked it.

“Oh! The pistachio cake! Yeah, yeah, no it was great,” Dick Grayson said. Jason couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “But um, he was mostly talking about the, er, the coffee!”

“He liked the coffee?” Jason wasn’t that great at making coffee. Most people who got coffee here simply needed the caffeine rush.

“Yes. He liked the coffee,” Dick Grayson said.

Jason was fairly certain Dick Grayson was lying through his teeth. Most likely Tim Drake hadn’t mentioned the bakery at all.

Then again, he must have, why else would Dick Grayson be here?

“Anyway, he liked this place so much, I got curious!” Dick Grayson said. “So I came to see for myself.”

Dick Grayson trailed off into silence awkwardly.

“I see.”

“I’m surprised you recognised me though. Most people don’t know who I am. I’m not a philanthropist like Timmy or Bruce.”

“That’s not true! You’re the reason they investigated all of the Gotham juvenile detention centres. And you founded the Lost Boys charity.”

Dick Grayson had been sent to a juvenile detention centre following his parents’ death, because Gotham Social Services claimed that they were over capacity.

Whether this was true or not, what Dick Grayson had seen within the juvenile detention centre had been enough grounds for an investigation. And the investigation had been enough to bust up at least 3 different child trafficking rings.

The resulting shutdown of facilities caused an influx of homeless children. So, with the help of Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson set up two orphanages: the Lost Boys and Wendy House.

They were big, famous projects at the time. Jason had been pretty young himself, but he remembered that everyone had been talking about it. Everyone had wondered whether Dick Grayson, the circus boy charity case, really had what it took to deliver on his promises.

Lost Boys opened first, and when Jason’s mother died, Jason’s initial plan was to head there. He remembered feeling lucky that he was a boy because Wendy House had run into some additional complications and wouldn’t open for another week.

That sense of luck disappeared quickly. Because before Jason had even left the coroners’ after confirming that yes, the one who died was his mother, the Lost Boys orphanage was blown up.

By Two Face.

328 children died that night.

Operations on Wendy House immediately ceased.

“Ah yes, the Lost Boys charity,” Dick Grayson said with a melancholic grimace.

Jason wanted to kick himself. It had been one of the first big charity drives Jason had ever seen, but most people only remembered how it ended now. That was a stupid thing to bring up.

“N-not just that. There was that time you bought Haly’s Circus.” Which wasn’t really philanthropy now that Jason thought about it. “And that sex offenders rehabilitation programme you funded,” which Jason personally felt was a bit of a waste of time, why focus on offenders when you could focus on victims?

Actually, didn’t the manager of that programme turn out to be a domestic abuser?

With all the bad luck Dick Grayson had had with philanthropy, it was no wonder he rarely involved himself these days.

Then again, this was Gotham. Thanks to all the corrupt politicians and officials, just getting a charity approved and legal was a feat in and of itself.

What Tim Drake had managed to achieve was a downright miracle.

“Thanks for trying,” Dick Grayson said. And it really did sound like he wanted to be thankful that Jason was trying.

But clearly Jason wasn’t helping. In fact, Jason was fairly certain all he had done was remind Dick Grayson of painful memories.

“You bought school books for all the underprivileged kids in East Gotham three years ago. That was helpful,” Jason said.

Dick Grayson looked surprised.

“And you mail out free tickets to Haly’s Circus every year.”

“How did you-?”

Jason shrugged. “Word on the street.” Which was technically a lie. He only found out about the school books because one of the fathers had been in the same bakery course as him.

And he knew about the free Haly’s Circus tickets because he’d regularly find them in the bins when hunting for food.

He probably shouldn’t mention that.

“Well, the free tickets backfired a bit because it lowered the value of the circus, and no one was using them anyway, so I’ve not been doing that anymore,” Dick Grayson admitted with another pained grimace.

Okay, so Dick Grayson already knew.

“People can be ungrateful,” Jason said.

“Tell me about it.”

There was a pause, but strangely, Jason didn’t feel awkward. Maybe it was the brief but heartfelt mutual lamentation of awful people, or maybe Jason was just thankful that Dick Gryason wasn’t acting like Jason was about to shoot him in the face.

Whatever it was, it felt nice. Peaceful even.

Plus, Dick Grayson’s soft smile was very very pretty.

“You know what, I think I’m going to indulge a bit. Can I also have 5 of your chocolate chip cookies please?”

It was as if reality came crashing back down. The fact that this very handsome man was one of Jason’s customers slapped him in the face.

“Oh my goodness, the coffee, shit.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I’ll make you a new one.”

“Don’t worry about it, I like cold coffee anyway.” And that was such a blatant lie that Jason immediately grabbed a new takeaway cup to make another mocha.

Dick Grayson sighed loudly. As if he was extremely put upon by Jason’s sense of integrity. The fact that he managed to convey he wasn’t really upset was impressive. Jason wished he had that kind of people skills. The bakery would probably skyrocket in popularity.

“Well if you’re making a new one, can I have a plain filtered coffee instead? Black. Double shots.”

Same as Red Robin.

Jason didn’t know why that thought popped into his head.

“Yeah, sure,” Jason said over his shoulder.

“Oh, and can I have one of those. Whatever that is.”

Jason glanced back as he pushed the lid down onto the cup. Dick Grayson was squinting at the pastries.

“An apple cinnamon croissant,” Dick Grayson said slowly, reading off the sign. “Oh it’s a croissant.”

“That’s one of my more...experimental...products,” Jason confessed.

“Is it good?” Dick asked, an edge of cheeky challenge to his voice.

“Maybe you should try and find out,” Jason said, repeating Dick’s earlier remarks.

Dick seemed to have caught on because he gave an absolutely adorable chuckle. “I think I will, give me two.”

“You got it.”

“So...one sourdough loaf, five cookies, two coffees and two experimental apple cinnamon croissants. Will this be enough?” Dick asked, handing over far too much money.

“One coffee,” Jason said, pointedly giving back all of Dick’s change.

“Well I see this very convenient tip jar right here,” Dick said, dropping all the bills and coins into the jar without so much as a pause.

God, he was just like Red Robin. Were all altruistic, rich people like this?

“I guess I’ll see you around, er...”

“Jason.” Jason said.

“Jason,” Dick gave him a dazzling smile.

It was blinding.

“Wait!” Jason yelled, fumbling with the napkins.

Dick turned back towards him.

“Here,” Jason handed over what was probably an entire wad of napkins. “For the pastries, and cookies. Crumbs and stuff, you know?”

Dick gave him that smile again. Jason nearly melted.

“Thanks,” Dick Grayson said. Then he swept out of the shop and glided out of sight.

Jason let out a breath and sank down into a crouch. He clutched at the edges of the countertop as he willed his frantically beating heart to calm.

Chapter Text

Dick stood in the bright afternoon sun and stared up at the tatty sign: Ports Bakery.

It wasn’t missing any letters. That was impressive enough on its own, given where it was located. Most of the convenience stores and corner shops around here generally looked a little worse for wear.

He’d even driven past a quaint-looking little cafe covered in bullet holes on the way here.

The fishmarket and the actual shipping ports were well looked after of course. Penguin basically owned the fishmarket (although Jason probably didn’t know about that). And every criminal in Gotham used the privacy of the shipping ports to cut their deals.

Ports Bakery sat right in between these two fairly well-guarded and well-used places, on the edge of the fifth most dangerous area in Gotham.

Strategically smart, if Jason Todd was secretly with the Mafia. Or the League of Assassins.

He was doubting that assessment now though.

In hindsight, ‘just fought hostile aliens for 14 hours’ was probably not the best state to be in when trying to decide whether someone was a secret criminal or not.

In hindsight, he should have gone straight to bed.

Too late now. And he knew Tim wasn’t going to be happy with him for a while, but Dick wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. This place was still a risk. And Tim was very definitely compromised.

That’s why Dick was here now, during the day. Tim didn’t visit the bakery during the day.

Dick frowned. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure whether Tim visited the bakery during the day. He must have found the place somehow. Maybe he’d discovered it during his day job.

He glanced at the street behind him. No cars were driving up this little strip of road. It was probably fine.

His own car was parked out of sight of the bakery. Dick didn’t want to be seen loitering, just in case he changed his mind about scoping out the place in civvies.

You still have time to change your mind, his brain reminded him.

Dick hesitated, but ultimately ignored his inner voice. He needed to check at least one more time.

He walked down the street, passing the other shops without even noting down what they were.

It was a short walk. And the smell of baking bread grew stronger with every step, curling around him tantalisingly, drawing him in like a siren to a wayward sailor.

Bakeries were good at that. Or maybe any small establishments that cooked fresh food. Dick thought back to the popcorn stands at the circus. The smell of candy floss and fried onions and all the other street food Haly’s had offered.

Now was not the time for a nostalgia trip. Dick walked up to the front entrance.

There were quite a few people inside. A bell chimed as an elderly couple exited the shop, Dick held the door open for them as he surveyed the shop itself, taking in the small space.

Bread baskets on the right; the refrigerated displays in front; three sets of tables on the left - all unoccupied; and Dick couldn’t see the till or Jason thanks to the hulking woman buying what must be at least five loaves of bread.

She paid just as Dick closed the door behind him.

Jason Todd wasn’t at the till.

A young woman, more girl than woman, stood by the till instead. She couldn’t be older than 12. Why was there a 12 year old kid manning the tills?

Okay, maybe she was 13. Dick could even believe 14, at a push. But the legal working age for Gotham was 16.

Plus there were no registered employees in Ports Bakery’s business documents.

Suspicious.

Dick studied her, watching her make a coffee for a customer in the queue. No hidden weapons that he could see. She didn’t stand like a fighter either, although some fighters were good at hiding it.

“Thank you, please come again,” she said with a practised smile, as if she was a standard, civilian student working a part time job.

If her hours were low enough, there would be no need for the owner to register her either. Because Gotham’s employment laws were completely messed up.

So maybe not that suspicious.

Dick internally sighed to himself. Maybe Tim was right. Maybe Dick was the one being a paranoid ass.

He’d visited this bakery twice now, three times if he included that first night, and everything he’d ever seen was only more evidence that Ports Bakery was nothing more than a humble, little bakery trying to survive.

Dick grimaced to himself.

He glanced at the bread baskets. Might as well get something out of this pointless trip. He still needed to talk to Damian. Maybe a loaf of bread would be a strange enough peace offering that Damian would open his bedroom door.

Or maybe he should get a cake.

That sourdough looked pretty good though. Alfred didn’t make sourdough often. Probably because it took a tad more effort than other breads.

Then again, Dick didn’t know the first thing about baking bread. Maybe sourdough wasn’t actually difficult. Maybe Alfred just didn’t like it.

Either way, he picked it up and placed it in one of the paper bags hanging by the basket.

Then he joined the queue.

Jason Todd had replaced his part time worker by this point. Dick had heard him call out to the girl, Sasha, whilst he was choosing which loaf was best.

There had been a moment, when Jason had come out of the kitchen, that Dick wanted to bolt. But that would be extremely suspicious. And unnecessary.

Besides, Dick had committed to using sourdough as his peace offering for Damian. He wasn’t going to back down just because he was nervous about interacting with a thug-like baker. 

A thug-like baker who had revealed that Tim hated him just that morning.

No. Jason Todd didn’t know Dick was Batman. He wasn’t going to get angry with him on Tim’s behalf when he didn’t know Dick was Batman.

Unless Tim told him.

In which case Dick was screwed.

Dick pressed his lips together as the man in the queue in front of him paid. He forced his pulse to stay steady.

Jason Todd looked a lot less intimidating in daylight.

He was tall, roughly Dick’s height, with broad shoulders and an intense gaze.

At least he’s not glaring at you this time, Dick thought to himself.

And then Jason Todd smiled.

Dick felt surprise ripple through him. Which was stupid. Jason didn’t know who Dick was. Of course he smiled instead of glared. Lots of people smiled at their customers, it was part of the service.

Jason Todd looked very different when he smiled.

Definitely less like a two-bit thug and more like an actual civilian.

Some of Dick’s surprise must have shown on his face because Jason dropped the smile in favour of that weird mildly-interested, mildly-attentive look they taught at Wayne Enterprise servicing courses.

Bruce had said it was meant to be a professional smile. Dick had always wondered why W.E. didn’t just teach people to actually smile for a professional smile.

Then again, Dick had just nearly walked backwards from Jason’s smile. Maybe Jason was trying to appear more professional so Dick wouldn’t run away.

“Hi, what can I get you?” Jason Todd said in what was definitely a ‘professional’ voice. He must have been a model student at Wayne Enterprise.

“Um, this.” Dick practically dropped the bread on the counter.

“Anything else?”

Anything else? Did he want anything else? He was tempted to get a cake, but a cake would be a dead giveaway that he’d been at this bakery. Cakes were a lot more distinctive and unique to different shops than a loaf of bread.

Of course, what Tim didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him...

No, no he shouldn’t risk it.

Even if those cookies looked damn good. He could do with some sugar.

No. He’ll just get a mocha. That’ll have sugar.

He didn’t drink mocha much. He much preferred his coffee black. But Dick Grayson was supposed to love a frappuccino or whatever it was called. That’s the profile he gave their PR team anyway.

Not that Jason even knew he was Dick Grayson. Maybe he should have just got a cookie and a filtered coffee.

“No need to be so nervous. I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

Dick blinked.

Did he-? Was Jason Todd flirting with him?

Let’s test it out.

“I don’t share my kinks until after the third date,” Dick said lightly.

“Wow, what do you do on the fourth date then? Test them all out?”

Yes, Jason Todd was definitely flirting with him.

It was bad flirting. Awkward and weird and Dick didn’t even know what the hell anyone was supposed to say to that. But it was also kind of endearing.

In a this-puppy-is-trying-too-hard sort of way.

Dick was accustomed to complete strangers flirting with him. But he was pretty sure Tim would not appreciate Dick flirting with his friend. Better to nip it in the bud. 

“Maybe you should try and find out,” he prompted. 

He set his tone casual and welcoming, but also politely vague. It should be implicitly encouraging enough to invite Jason to ask him out, if he genuinely wanted to take his shot. But also disinterested enough that Dick would then be able to turn him down without much fanfare.

Alternatively, if Jason had no actual interest, then Dick’s words would simultaneously signal that he was heading into dangerous territory whilst providing him with an escape route. It would let Jason back away and brush the whole thing off as light banter.

Dick would be able to stop the flirting in its tracks, whichever option Jason chose.

Jason, frustratingly, chose neither option.

“Oh my god, you’re Dick Grayson,” he gasped.

Great. Jason Todd recognised him.

“Did Tim Drake recommend this place?” Jason asked, immediately setting off Dick’s alarms.

Tim had visited? Tim had visited as Tim Drake? Why?

Did Tim visit regularly? Did this mean Tim was at the bakery twice a day?! Every day?!

Jason Todd was looking at him expectantly. There was a brightness to him that wasn’t there before. Did Tim buy lots of bread or something?

Or had Tim revealed his identity to Jason after all?

Surely not, right?

Dick wished he knew, but there was so much he didn’t know about Tim these days.

“Yeah! He said this place was nice and quiet,” Dick stuttered. He hoped Jason wouldn't ask anymore questions about Tim.

“Did he like the cake?” Jason asked. Dick almost wished Jason went back to doing nothing but glare at him.

“Cake?” Dick blurted out, failing to even think of a lie in his panic.

“Yes. The pistachio cake.” Jason looked kind of dejected as he clarified. Dick wondered what happened.

Did Tim even eat cake?

Alfred had always offered to bake Tim a birthday cake, but Tim declined every time. At first they thought it was because Tim didn’t like celebrating his birthday. Then they thought it was because his parents had taught him to not want to celebrate his birthday.

Eventually, Dick surprised him with a homemade birthday pizza and they’ve had birthday pizza every year since.

Dick didn’t have a chance to make Tim a birthday pizza this year. Dick didn’t even remember Tim’s birthday this year.

Tim probably wouldn’t eat anything he made this year anyway.

Jason didn’t know any of that though. And Dick’s pretty sure Tim wouldn’t want Jason to be upset over something as mundane as cake.

So he hurriedly patched together a reassurance, whilst directing Jason towards Tim’s true love: liquidated caffeine.

“He liked the coffee?” Jason asked, dubious.

Did Tim not drink coffee when he visited?

Was the coffee that bad here?

“Yes, he liked the coffee,” Dick reiterated, because what else could he say. He couldn’t very well just admit that he had been lying.

Jason was staring at him in suspicion. Maybe Dick should have just admitted that he and Tim had never discussed the food or drinks offered at this bakery after all.

“Anyway, he liked this place so much, I got curious! So I came to see for myself,” Dick continued. He was telling the truth now, technically, but Jason was still looking doubtful.

“I see...”

Change the subject you idiot.

“I’m surprised you recognised me though. Most people don’t know who I am. I’m not a philanthropist like Timmy or Bruce,” Dick said, throwing on his Dick Grayson-persona in full force.

He wasn’t in the spotlight much these days, so he didn’t have as detailed of a persona as Bruce or Tim, but he still had one. And it was useful for moments like these.

Jason Todd will probably write him off as a useless air-head and if Dick was lucky, wouldn’t mention to Tim that he visited.

“That’s not true!” Jason protested vehemently. That was unexpected. “You’re the reason they investigated all of the Gotham juvenile detention centres. And you founded the Lost Boys charity.”

Dick winced.

Of all the things Jason Todd could know about him.

“Ah yes, the Lost Boys charity.”

“N-not just that. There was that time you bought Haly’s Circus,” Jason continued, as if that had not been an entirely selfish endeavour.

“And that sex offenders rehabilitation programme you funded,” Jason said, then peetered off, no doubt remebering that the head of the programme turned out to be a sex offender herself and the whole thing was shut down.

“Thanks for trying.” Dick tried to smile, but it was tough when he’d just been reminded of all the times he’d failed. All the mistakes he’d made and how it had cost people their lives.

Tim never had a problem with his charity programmes.

Dick had hovered, back then. He’d grilled Tim on everything he could think of, in case things crashed and burned the same way it had for Dick.

It never did. Tim was smart enough to never let it. His programmes were always successful.

Tim was brilliant in a way Dick could never hope to be.

“You bought school books for all the underprivileged kids in East Gotham three years ago. That was helpful,” Jason said.

How did this random civilian know about that? There had been no publicity around it at all. Dick had made sure of it, out of fear that something would go wrong otherwise.

“And you mail out free tickets to Haly’s Circus every year.”

“How did you-?”

“Word on the street,” Jason shrugged.

It was nice to know that someone appreciated the books enough to talk about it. But Dick should probably clear up any misunderstandings about the tickets. It didn’t help at all.

“Well, the free tickets backfired a bit because it lowered the value of the circus, and no one was using them anyway, so I’ve not been doing that anymore.”

“People can be ungrateful,” Jason said with such blunt honesty that Dick wanted to laugh.

“Tell me about it.”

It was nice, Dick suddenly realised, to casually chat like this to someone. No saving the world. No discussions of dangers to be aware of. No in-depth speeches about anything. Just a simple, shallow conversation about how life was horrible now and then.

Dick hadn’t had this kind of conversation in months.

In the past, he would lament the sorrows of the world with the Titans. They would always try to carve some time out of their schedules to catch up.

But everyone was so busy these days. Roy had his hands full looking after Lian and Olly’s new sidekicks. Donna was away on Themyscira and unreachable. Wally’s fiance Linda had recently died and he had told everyone he needed some time away from superheroes. Garth was up to his neck in Atlantean politics...

Everyone was just so busy. And until Tim had come back, Dick himself had been completely stacked too, what with the Justice League and looking after Damian and taking over as W.E. Chairman and being Batman.

It was nice, to just talk.

“You know what, I think I’m going to indulge a bit. Can I also have 5 of your chocolate chip cookies please?”

There was a moment in which Dick thought Jason hadn’t heard him, a moment where Jason just stared. And then a look of horror descended upon Jason’s entire demeanor.

“Oh my goodness, the coffee, shit.”

Dick wasn’t sure why Jason was freaking out. Then it clicked, he was probably worried the coffee had gone cold.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Dick said. It was true that steam wasn’t coming out of it anymore, but the lid had been covered. It was probably still hot.

“I’ll make you a new one,” Jason said, sounding far too panicked for what was probably not even a problem.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dick replied. “I like cold coffee anyway,” he added for good measure. Even though he didn’t actually like cold coffee. But he was pretty sure the coffee in question was not cold.

He tapped the side of the cup sitting on the counter. Yep, definitely not cold.

Jason wasn’t listening. He’d already turned around and grabbed a new takeaway cup. It was probably better to just let him make a new coffee.

“Well if you’re making a new one, can I have a plain filtered coffee instead? Black. Double shots.” It would be a good match with the cookies.

“Yeah sure,” Jason said as Dick glanced at what else was on display.

Dick couldn’t risk getting a cake. But there seemed to be a variety of pastries available. Or did croissants and danishes count as bread?

A peculiar large, round thing caught his eye.

“Oh, and can I have one of those. Whatever that is.” Dick moved closer to read the tiny sign. “An apple cinnamon croissant. Oh it’s a croissant!” It didn’t look anything like a croissant.

“That’s one of my more...experimental...products,” Jason said, almost shyly. It was cute.

“Is it good?” Dick couldn’t entirely hold back the flirtatious tone.

Jason didn’t seem to mind, because he immediately said, “Maybe you should try and find out.” There was a spark of challenge in his eyes.

Dick laughed. “I think I will, give me two.”

“You got it.”

“So...one sourdough loaf, five cookies, two coffees and two experimental apple cinnamon croissants. Will this be enough?”

“One coffee,” Jason said, enunciating the ‘one’ as if it had personally insulted him.

“Well I see this very convenient tip jar right here.”

Jason actually rolled his eyes.

“I guess I’ll see you around, J-er...” Dick caught himself just in time. There was no way Dick Grayson would know the name of a random baker.

Unless Tim Drake told him, he supposed. Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a big deal.

Maybe cutting himself off was the worse choice.

Dick fervently hoped Jason didn’t catch his near slip.

“Jason.” Jason said, without so much as a pause. He was still smiling.

That was good, he must not have noticed Dick’s slip up.

“Jason,” Dick repeated, reinforcing that this was the first time he had learnt Jason’s name. And then, feeling awkward, Dick decided that now was as good a time as any to make his exit.

“Wait!” Jason shouted suddenly. Dick nearly jumped a foot into the air.

Oh god, what now? Had Jason figured out he was Batman? Did the way Dick walked towards the door remind him of Batman?

Dick turned on his heels slowly. Terrified of seeing that awful glare from last night.

But Jason wasn’t glaring. Jason was holding out napkins.

Oh! Of course. Napkins. Yes.

“Here,” Jason said, with that endearing smile of his. “For the pastries! And cookies! Crumbs and stuff, you know?” Jason trailed off.

There was a shy awkwardness to his words. It made Dick smile. “Thanks.”

He took the napkins and left the shop.

Chapter Text

The apple croissant was warm. The pastry display case must have had some hidden heating function because the croissant was perfectly warm even through its paper bag. Dick wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into it, see if it was good or a disaster.

But he needed to get out of here. It occurred to him as he was leaving the shop, that late afternoon was probably when Tim visited the bakery. Especially if it was a regular thing.

He had to leave the area right now.

Shoving the food onto the passenger’s side of his car, and pressing the coffee into the cupholders, Dick fastened his seatbelt and started the car.

The bakery was on a strip of road jutting off from the main coastline road. Wayne Enterprise was technically a straight line from the coast, but thanks to Gotham’s sketchy planning permissions and private property sales, there was a curve just before reaching the coastline road.

Usually, Dick would grumble about the weird roundabout ways one navigated Gotham, with its sudden curves and sharp turns. But he was grateful now.

Because if it weren’t for these strange curves in the road, Tim would have noticed his car from a mile away.

As it was, Dick had barely turned onto the coastal road, bypassing the second turning which would have put him in the direction of the penthouse, when Tim’s car drove by behind him.

Dick felt his breath hitch. That was close.

He kept an eye on Tim’s car, half expecting his brother to make a sudden U-turn and chase after him. But he didn’t. And before long, the giant shipping containers had blocked the view.

Safe.

Dick drove a little further. Then he clicked the signal and made his way into one of the many coastal car parks in Gotham. He killed the engine and finally, finally, let himself relax into his seat.

That had been too close. He wasn’t sure what would have happened if Tim had found out Dick visited the bakery as a civilian.

There was still the risk that Jason would tell him, but it wasn’t like Dick could have asked Jason to keep his visit a secret without making everything extremely suspicious.

That was a problem for future-Dick. For now, he had a warm apple croissant to eat.

Jason had said it was experimental, but he was probably talking more about the shape. After all, apple and pastry was a popular combo, and it seemed unlikely that Jason would risk his shop’s reputation by selling something that didn't taste good.

Tim might have risked it. Tim was pioneering and courageous like that.

Dick might have too, once upon a time. But it would probably have ended up bankrupting the whole business.

He grabbed the bag with the croissants and peeled back the paper. Now that he looked closer, it did look a little like a croissant. There was some semblance of a crescent shape to it...sort of.

The apple croissant was still warm. Dick pressed the side of it to his lips, to savour the feel of heat against his skin. Then, he took a bite.

It was delicious. It was beyond delicious. The sweetness of the juices and the tart flavour of the apples blended perfectly with the bready outer layer. Dick was in heaven.

Perhaps it was because he’d not really indulged in much since Bruce was stuck in the past. Or perhaps because he’d not had a moment to himself for such a long time. Whatever the reason, Dick could feel tension easing out of his shoulders as he chewed.

He sank a little lower in his seat. The flakey crumbs tumbled further down his shirt.

Jason wasn’t kidding, that was a lot of crumbs.

Dick reached for a napkin, peeling the top one from the stack.

And that was when he finally noticed. The numbers scrawled across the top of the napkin.

A phone number.

Chapter Text

Tim hesitated in the garage. He sat in his car and frowned down at his keys.

Yesterday was supposed to be a one-off thing. Visiting Jason as a civilian was supposed to be a one-off thing. He only did it because...well, he still wasn’t entirely sure.

There had been no plan to become a regular customer as Timothy Wayne.

But this whole day had been stressful as hell.

Thanks to Dick missing the handover meeting yesterday, he never officially signed over his role to Tim. The Board had already been jittery, it was no secret that they didn’t like Dick being in charge. And despite Dick doing a perfectly adequate job in Tim’s place, everyone had been pushing for Tim to take the lead again.

Dick not showing up on his ‘last day’ had not gone down well.

So Dick came to work with Tim today. He made a big show of finally stepping down, of how his active place on the Board was as temporary as he had promised. He walked around different departments saying goodbye, and sent a final farewell email to the company before he left.

To say it had been awkward would be the biggest understatement in the world.

Dick was a good actor. And Tim was very practised at emulating the successful CEO persona. Tim was sure that, to the public, they appeared just like they used to.

Close. Brotherly. Regular happy family.

As soon as they were alone however...

Honestly, Tim couldn’t even look at Dick. He was fairly sure that Dick felt the same. Then again, what did he know about how Dick felt about anything these days.

Tim sighed and leaned his head back. He stared up at the roof of his car.

Dick left about half an hour ago. To highlight that he was leaving for the ‘last time’ he went down to the garage instead of back up to the penthouse. Tim had waited until he was sure Dick would be gone, before heading to the garage himself.

And then he had sat here, frozen as he realised that he was about to drive to Ports Bakery.

This probably wasn’t healthy.

Dick’s pitying stare from last night flashed through his mind.

Tim turned the key. The engine sprang to life.

So what if he was addicted. So what if he liked spending time at Jason’s. Tim used to visit Bruce’s place every day, back before Bruce adopted him.

Bruce never told him it was weird.

It was not weird to want to be with people that didn’t stress you out.

Tim turned a corner sharply, skidding the tires with a screech as if it would drown out Dick’s patronising, all-knowing voice from last night. It looped in his head, round and round.

He ignored it.

The road Jason lived on was empty, as always. Tim wondered if anyone even drove down it today. He was pretty sure most patrons of the shops here were locals that lived within walking distance.

Tim parked his car. Right by the bakery. Same place he had parked his bike as Red Robin, that first night so long ago.

He didn’t look at the little metallic bridge further down the street. The place he and Dick had argued last night. Dick hadn’t spoken about it all day. Tim hadn’t either.

Not that either of them would have brought it up at Wayne Enterprise, where anyone could overhear.

A shout snapped him out of his musings. There were a bunch of kids on the other side of the mini inlet. They were laughing and joking and chasing each other.

Probably the fishmongers’ kids. Homeless children weren’t the only ones who struggled to stay in school in Gotham.

Maybe that could be Tim’s next project. Free tutoring for those who were struggling. He could open it up to adults too. Even working adults. After all, the literacy rate in Gotham was the lowest in the country.

Something to think about.

Should he ask for Jason’s opinion?

No, that would be weird. They were basically strangers. And Tim had to maintain his CEO persona.

Speaking of, he should probably stretch his vocal cords a little before entering the shop. He didn’t anticipate speaking much, but forcing his voice to go so much deeper than he was used to would hurt without stretching.

The things he did to keep his cover. Tim hoped Bruce was proud of him.

The shop was empty. Just like yesterday. Tim wondered if he just had a knack for visiting during the quiet periods or if Jason’s bakery was always this empty.

Jason was frowning at his phone. Tim paused for a moment by the door, not wanting to interrupt if Jason was about to take a call from one of his suppliers or something. But Jason didn’t put the phone to his ear. He wasn’t even texting. He was just...frowning at it.

Probably reading something then. An article on the latest Martha Wayne project maybe. Not that there were any new ones.

Tim pulled the door open.

The little bell chimed.

Jason’s attention immediately snapped to him.

“Mr Tim! Welcome back!”

“Hi.” Tim said. Then he blanked. What would CEO Timothy Wayne say in this situation?

Probably nothing. Then again, CEO Timothy Wayne wouldn’t visit a random no-name bakery on the edge of nowhere.

Jason didn’t notice the pause. He seemed distracted. He gave Tim a professional smile, “Here for another espresso?”

“A cappuccino, actually,” Tim said. Even though he desperately wanted a filter coffee. Too similar to Red Robin. He couldn’t risk it. “And a plain croissant this time I think.”

“You got it,” Jason said. He was definitely distracted. Although Tim wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t so familiar with Jason’s body language.

I wonder what happened...

Nothing that CEO Timothy Wayne would ask about.

Tim’s eyes caught on the cookie jar. He hadn’t noticed it yesterday. And maybe he only noticed it now because the jar was nearly empty.

Chocolate chip cookies. Dick’s favourite.

He tore his eyes away, mind already flashing back to all the times he and Dick used to sit on the rooftops eating chocolate chip cookies.

Dick would drink his coffee and Tim would sip his energy drink.

They’d not done that for a long time.

There were a lot of things they’d not done for a long time.

Tim pushed that thought aside and took out his wallet.

Jason was clearly still paying some attention despite being distracted because he shook his head before Tim could even pull out a single bill.

“On the house,” Jason said, with a lot more confidence than yesterday.

“If you insist,” Tim smiled and tucked his wallet back into his suit jacket. He went to sit down, opting for the same table as yesterday, and stared out the window. It was strange to see the colourful shipping containers basked in sunlight.

Jason didn’t try to strike up conversation when he brought Tim his coffee and croissant. He left Tim alone, just like yesterday.

But there was distinctly a more agitated edge to it this time.

Tim was debating on whether he should say something, given that Jason was practically pacing back and forth behind the counter, when the telltale sign of a notification buzz rang through the air.

Jason nearly dropped his phone in his hurry to bring it closer to his face. It was an impressive feat considering he’d been holding the thing with a death grip to begin with.

Tim watched, intrigued, as Jason’s entire being lit up at whatever message he received.

Maybe Jason won the lottery.

That was unlikely, Jason didn’t like anything that promoted addiction.

It was probably a text from an actual person too, given the way he was immediately tapping back a reply.

A new love interest?

Did Jason even date?

It wasn’t a topic they had ever discussed. Tim certainly never talked about dating. He’d not been able to think about it for years, not after what happened to Steph.

Had Jason been hiding his dating life to spare Tim’s feelings?

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Don’t jump to conclusions.

To be fair, it was hard to imagine Jason keeping his love life a secret. Especially now, watching Jason text away with the dorkiest grin on his face.

Tim desperately wanted to ask. But he couldn’t. There was no way CEO Tim would pry into the private affairs of strangers. Even affiliated strangers.

Red Robin on the other hand...

Red Robin could ask Jason anything.

Chapter Text

If Dick was being completely honest, he was expecting Tim to punch him the moment he got home.

He sat there, in the kitchen-living room area right by the lobby, waiting for the telltale ding of the elevator.

He shouldn’t have texted Jason so soon.

He didn’t think Jason would text back so fast.

And then it felt rude not to reply immediately.

Everything got away from him a little.

There was no way Tim didn’t know Dick had been by the bakery. Jason must have told him. If Tim visited the bakery every day as a civilian then they must be on speaking terms at the very least.

So yes, a punch was imminent.

“I don’t see why I must be punished,” Damian grouched, breaking Dick out of his nervous spiral of thoughts. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“We need to trust each other, Damian,” Dick repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time. “You went behind my back-”

“It was an emergency.”

“You could have died.”

Damian scoffed.

“Damian,” Dick sighed. He hoped Damian wouldn’t go on yet another spiel about being a well-trained and highly competent assassin.

Their conversation had actually gone unexpectedly well. After Dick finished texting Jason, he set his mind towards finding the best way to coax Damian out of his room. He worked on a multitude of strategies the entire drive back, repeatedly creating and discarding different ideas, only to find Damian waiting for him in the kitchen when he got home.

Dick didn’t know whether Damian was finally learning the importance of communication or whether Alfred had said something, but he was relieved to have one less thing to stress about.

The elevator dinged.

Dick sat up straighter.

Tim walked through the door. He didn’t so much as look at them. Didn’t so much as pause as he headed for the door on the opposite side of the room.

Damian scowled but didn’t initiate any conversation or arguments either. There were a few tense moments as Tim walked past them, and then he was gone.

Dick let out a breath.

“Did something happen?” Damian asked, eyes narrowed.

“Of course not, why do you think something happened?” Dick said, trying to sound casual.

“You were holding your breath,” Damian said. “Your heart rate was elevated. And you did not greet Drake when he entered the room. You always greet him when he enters a room, whether he returns the courtesy or not.”

Sometimes, Damian’s assassin training was very annoying. How could he even tell Dick’s heart rate was elevated? Dick couldn’t tell his own heart rate had been elevated.

“It’s fine, Damian.”

“You spoke of trust. Yet you do not trust me.” There was an edge of accusation there. Dick worked hard to tamper down his irritation.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Dick lied. “There’s just nothing to share.” And it was none of Damian’s business, technically. But Dick had a feeling saying that wouldn’t go down well. They’d barely worked through their issues from last night.

Damian still seemed suspicious; Dick ignored it. Damian was suspicious about a lot of things.

“Speaking of trust,” Dick said, deciding a change of topic was in order. “Can I trust you to not sneak out tonight?”

Damian scowled some more. “I really do not see the necessity of this punishment.”

“Damian...” Dick sighed. He didn’t want to spend all of patrol checking the security cameras or Damian’s tracker.

Damian glared. “Fine.”

Dick smiled as warmly as he could. Positive reinforcement was important here. “Good. Why don’t we go watch a movie before dinner.”

Damian immediately perked up. “Documentaries?” he asked hopefully. He was really into animal documentaries at the moment, or anything with animals in it. Dick had been meaning to take him to the Metropolis Zoo for months now.

Although maybe he should wait until Bruce was back for that. Got to give Bruce something to work with to build up that father-son bond when he returned.

“Yeah, I’m sure there’ll be something,” Dick said, getting up from the little kitchen island.

---

Tim mostly ignored him during patrol. Dick froze up every time they naturally crossed paths. But Tim didn’t approach. It was as if nothing had changed at all.

Which was strange. Jason had texted him nearly nonstop all afternoon. There was no way Tim wouldn’t have noticed.

Maybe he’s not as close with Jason when he’s Tim Drake.

Maybe Tim was just a regular customer to Jason in his civilian persona.

That would make sense. Tim was very careful about who he shared his civilian identity with. And CEO Timothy Wayne was known to be a little distant. Especially around strangers.

Although that did mean that Dick was going to get punched once Tim came home from patrol.

Should he wait for it? Give Tim a chance to let off some steam before he explained the situation?

Would Tim even let him explain?

“Batman,” Babs’ voice, snapping at him.

“Sorry what?” He had completely missed what she’d said.

“Get your head out of the clouds,” Barbara chastised. “There’s movement at Central Bank.”

“A lead?” Dick asked. They’d been following a case involving Central Bank for weeks.

“If we’re lucky. It’s either that or it’s a robbery attempt,” Barbara said, realistic as always.

“Let’s hope it’s a lead.” He shot his grapple gun and jumped, gathering speed and momentum before retracting the line; he soared over the buildings with the glider set in his cape.

He’d been in this costume for over a year now, but he still wasn’t entirely used to it. Everything was so heavy and bulky. The boots themselves were at least three inches thick. Maybe even five inches.

It all went against his preferred fighting style. None of his usual acrobatics worked in quite the same way when he had the bat-armour on.

The glider was useful at least. He could fly through the air much quicker than with a grapple gun alone.

“Left side. Second window,” Barbara said when Dick was close enough.

“I see it.”

There were two of them. One in a black parka, another with a very distinctive beanie. They were currently trying to open one of the windows without setting off the alarm.

Dick dropped to the ground behind them.

The other good thing about the Batman suit, aside from the glider, was how it was so much more naturally intimidating. Dick didn’t have to say a word. The moment he stood up, the bat-silhouette splashed across the wall with its signature pointy ears.

The criminals froze.

If Dick had been Nightwing, he would have quipped. Made a joke. Said something funny.

As Batman, he’d barely walked two steps forward when one of the suspects threw a rucksack at his feet.

“It’s in there, it’s all in there, I swear!” Beanie guy said.

“Damn it, Pete!”

“Would you prefer he sucked all our blood?” Pete shrieked at his companion.

It was always so weird to hear people’s theories of Batman. Dick had forgotten how much of a mystery Batman was to some people, especially amongst the small time crooks.

The pair trying to break into Central Bank turned out to have nothing to do with the case he and Babs had been working on. They weren’t actively trying to rob the bank either. In fact, Barbara found something in the rucksack that suggested there was a whole new mystery to solve.

“It’s never ending,” Dick groaned, lying on the couch in Babs’ hideout.

“That’s how crime is,” Barbara said calmly.

Dick sat up. He was getting used to seeing her in the wheelchair. And she seemed to be doing better compared to the last time he visited.

‘How have you been?’ Dick nearly asked. But she spoke before he could.

“I’m going to run a diagnosis on this, crossmatch it with the jobs that’s been circulating amongst the informants,” she said.

“Good idea,” Dick nodded.

She was doing better, but she was also all business these days. It reminded Dick of Bruce, when he had failed to save Tim’s mother. He was all about the mission back then too. Even more than usual.

Dick hoped fervently that Barbara wouldn’t become consumed by it. Bruce had calmed down thanks to Tim. Babs didn’t have anyone like that to help her refocus.

“I should head back,” Dick said instead. Tim must be on his way home around now. Dick wanted to be there in case Tim needed to ask him about Jason.

Or in case he needed to yell at Dick. Either way.

“I’ll let you know what I find,” Barbara said, not even looking up from her screens.

Chapter Text

Even from afar, Tim could tell Dick had been anxious all night.

They’d not patrolled together, Tim decided to do things solo after their disastrous conversation by the bakery last night, but they’d cross paths here and there.

Damian was grounded, so there was no snarky Robin following Batman around.

Even so, that didn’t explain why Dick was so nervous.

When the time came to wrap things up, Tim was half expecting Dick to try and stop him again. But even though Dick was close enough to attempt another unwelcome intervention, he didn’t. He just stayed far away, and fretted.

Tim rolled his eyes.

Deciding that Dick’s strange behaviour was not worth any more of his brain power, Tim straddled his bike and drove off towards the coastline.

Tim had thought of a million different ways to broach Jason about mystery-text-person without giving away that he had been around during the day. He expected Jason to be happy, maybe even humming as he rolled his dough.

Jason was not especially happy.

Jason was frowning at his work table.

There was absolutely no humming or singing or any other indicator of happiness. It was a stark contrast to that afternoon.

Had things gone wrong already?

“Hey,” Jason said as Tim knocked on the open door.

“Are you okay?” Tim asked.

“Hm? Oh...yeah.”

That didn’t sound very okay. Tim hesitated by the doorway.

“Anyone I need to beat up?”

That got a half-smile from Jason. “No, I’m just thinking.”

Tim sat at his usual seat. “About?”

“How do you know if a guy likes you?”

Tim thought back to the quick replies Jason had been getting all afternoon. There was no way that guy did not like him back.

But Red Robin couldn’t say that.

“Er, lots of ways. Why?”

“Nothing...I just,” Jason sighed. “I met someone.”

“Oooh,” Tim leaned in. “Is he hot?”

“Beyond hot. I thought a roman statue had walked into my shop.”

Tim wasn’t sure what was so hot about a roman statue, but each to their own.

“And then?” he asked. Jason hardly ever talked about himself, so it was always a treat when he did.

“And then...” Jason blushed, he actually blushed. Tim nearly teased him about it but stopped himself so he could hear the story. “Er, and then I gave him my number. On a napkin.”

Tim laughed. “A napkin? Really?”

“Hey, it was all I had!” Jason protested.

“It’s so...” Tim laughed again.

“Shut up, Red, it’s a classic.”

“Uh huh. And then what? He texted you? Did he send you a dick pic?”

“What? No!”

“He asked you to send him a nude pic?”

“No,” Jason sighed, as if he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or exasperated.

“Then what?”

“Er...well, he bought some of my apple croissants, so he just told me he really liked them.”

Well that was boring.

“Then you offered to send him some nudes?”

“Enough with the pictures! No!” Jason said, half laughing and half rolling his eyes. “Is that what you do with your love interests?”

Being reminded of Steph was painful. Tim felt his shoulders hunch before he could stop himself. Jason immediately noticed.

“I’m sorry, Red.”

“It’s fine! It’s fine,” Tim took a breath. “And no, my...girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend now, I guess, since she’s dead. She er...she threw a brick at my head the first time we met.”

“A brick? Really?”

“Yeah...” Tim smiled at the ground, nudging it with the tip of his boots. It had been a good time. Tim missed her. But this wasn’t about him. “Tell me more about that guy you met today.”

“Oh, well. He didn’t throw a brick at my head. Which was good, though he did look pretty terrified of me at first.”

“Must be too intimidated by such a gifted baker.”

“He’d not eaten anything at that point.”

“How do you know he’s not a regular. You say you have a shop assistant don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, I do.” Jason hesitated. “But I know it was his first time because he told me.”

“He heard good things about the bakery?”

“Something like that,” Jason frowned. “That surprised me. I’m not that great of a baker yet.”

Tim stared. “You literally own your own bakery.”

“Well yeah. I’m good enough to be a professional. But I’m nowhere near the masters. Or even my teachers’ levels.”

Tim did not eat enough bread to know but surely there were no majorly discernible differences between bakeries.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. Trust me, there’s a difference.”

“I’m not giving you any look.”

“Uh huh.”

“But he liked your apple croissants?” Tim prompted.

That made Jason perk up a little. “Yeah! He seemed to actually really like them.” Then the frown was back. “I think. He could have just been saying that.”

“Why would he go out of his way to text you that he liked your apple croissants?”

“That’s a good point. But maybe he wants something.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. People aren’t just nice for no reason.”

That was absolutely untrue. Tim knew a lot of people who were nice for no reason. Jason himself was a prime example of someone who was nice to Tim for no reason. 

“Maybe he wants to be friends,” Tim said. Then smirked. “Maybe he wants to be more than friends,” he waggled his eyebrows.

Jason laughed. “I’d like that. But, I dunno, Red. I mean, what do I have to offer?”

“Er, as I said. You own a bakery.”

“I don’t think he’d be impressed by that.”

Tim spluttered. That was ridiculous. “Why?”

“He’s probably pretty rich.”

“What makes you say that?” Tim asked. There were quite a few rich people in Gotham. The rich-poor divide was one of the biggest in the country, but as lovely as this place was, he doubted an actual rich person would visit Jason’s bakery.

“Oh, lots of reasons. His car alone was probably worth more than my entire bakery and flat combined.”

“Cars aren’t that expensive,” Tim said. Unless it was a limited edition or luxury car. But there were only a handful of people who had those in Gotham. Tim knew all of them by name. None of them ever did their own shopping, nor would they ever travel to this part of town. They most certainly wouldn’t have visited a bakery. Even if it had been highly recommended.

“I don’t know what universe you live in, but cars are hella expensive.”

“Not more than a shop. Or a flat. At least, not in Gotham.”

Jason was giving him that side-eyed stare, the one that meant he thought Tim’s opinions were biased (usually because he could tell Tim came from money) and was in two minds about judging him for it.

Bruce probably wouldn’t be so proud of Tim that he was giving so much of his background away, however non-identifying the information was. Batman and Robin were supposed to be a mysterious duo.

Not that there was anything particularly mysterious about a teenage vigilante sitting in the backroom of a bakery.

“Were there any other reasons you think he’s rich?” Tim asked. Jason was not the type to make conclusions from a single piece of evidence. There must have been something else.

“Well...”

A thought occurred to Tim. “Is he a celebrity?” That would explain why Jason was so unsure about whether a guy who texted back within seconds liked him or not.

Jason mulled it over. “Mmm, not sure...”

“But he is famous,” Tim said.

“Are you asking me these questions so you can do a background check on him or something?” Jason asked, looking amused again.

That wasn’t a bad idea.

“What’s his name?” Tim asked, already unlocking his wrist computer.

“Yeah, no. No background checks, Red.”

“Just a preliminary one,” Tim promised. “I won’t search for anything that’s not already public information.”

“No.”

Tim huffed. “Fine.”

“Besides, it’s not like anything’s going on.”

“Yet.”

“I doubt he’s interested.”

“He literally sent you a text about your croissants. After you gave him your number on a napkin. You two are the dorkiest and most boring flirts in the history of all flirts,” Tim said.

Tim was expecting Jason to roll his eyes or chastise him. But all Jason did was smile shyly to himself, as if pleased that mystery-guy was just as boring at flirting as he was.

Lovesick Jason was extremely uncharted territory.

“Ask him out.”

“Nooo,” Jason waved Tim’s suggestion away, as if it was ridiculous. He was smiling though, and he did look decidedly happier compared to earlier.

“I think you've got a shot,” Tim added.

“Do you think?” The pleased smile that came with that timid question was something Tim had never seen on Jason before.

“Yeah!” Tim said, wanting to be supportive. He’d be a lot more comfortable encouraging Jason if he had been allowed to do a background check, but considering he’d screamed at Dick only the night before around civilians' rights to privacy, it was probably best that Jason stopped him from prying.

“I’ll think about it,” Jason said. “We only met today. Let’s wait and see.”

“Alright...but...don’t wait too long,” Tim said. He had waited too long with Kon. And now it was too late.

Jason seemed to have understood, because he smiled sadly at Tim. “I won’t.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, with the whirling of the ovens and mixers and Jason’s steady motions as the only sounds in the air.

Tim let that wash over him, the peace and mundanity of it smoothing over the frayed nerves from the last couple of days.

“Oh, did I tell you?” Jason said, “Tim Drake came to visit again! I wonder if he’s going to become a regular customer.”

Tim felt his insides turn, in that complicated way it did whenever Jason spoke about Tim Drake.

Despite that, he couldn’t help but lean forward. “Yeah? What did he do?”

Chapter Text

The hum of the motorcycle didn’t echo in this new Batcave. Dick supposed it’s because it’s not really a cave and more a basement at the bottom of a giant skyscraper.

Dick sat in the middle of the training mats. He was out of the Batman gear, wanting to be as non-threatening as possible when Tim inevitably attacked him.

Tim paused when he saw Dick on the training mats. His cowl was still on so Dick couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all.

There was a moment in which they stared each other down. Dick realised belatedly that he should probably have said something.

“Hey, how was…” Dick trailed off. It’d be a bit weird for him to ask Tim how things were at the bakery, considering Dick had attempted to stop Tim from visiting said-bakery just yesterday.

“Fine.” Tim said, short.

At least he was replying.

Dick was wracking his brain for something to say, so it surprised him when Tim spoke first.

“How come you’re still awake?” Tim asked. There was a strange lilt to his words, but Dick had no clue what it could mean.

“Barbara and I were running through some details on a case,” Dick replied. The line on Tim’s shoulder’s pulled taut and Dick felt himself holding his breath, fearing the worst.

Did he step on a landmine there?

Maybe Tim was expecting Dick to confess that he visited the bakery.

Although that had nothing to do with why Dick was awake.

“Since we’re both still awake, I was thinking we could have breakfast together,” Dick tried, even though he hadn’t been thinking this and it was more an excuse to distract Tim from punching him.

“I already ate at Jason’s.” Tim’s stance shifted slightly. Dick felt himself tense up as he prepared for the confrontation.

Tim simply stood there, defiant, as if he was expecting Dick to challenge him again.

Dick was too busy being baffled. Did Jason not talk about him?

Maybe Jason always texted people back very quickly, or maybe he regularly flirted with his customers. It seemed unlikely, given his horrible flirting skills, but Dick didn’t really know the guy.

Dick hadn’t thought it was an act. But he had been fairly distracted.

There was a long stretch of awkward silence. And then Tim headed straight for the elevator.

“Wait, what about your cooldown routine?” Dick called.

“I’ll do it in my room.”

“Alfred’s not going to like you taking your gear upstai-” The elevator door shut before Dick could even finish speaking.

Guess that was that.

But Dick hadn’t been punched. Or even yelled at.

Dick sat there on the mats, contemplating this unexpected turn of events as he went through some more stretches.

Maybe Tim didn’t know. Maybe he and Jason didn’t talk about things like this.

It wouldn’t be that unusual. Tim probably didn’t share personal details as Red Robin. It was entirely possible that the only things he and Jason chatted about were shared interests or things they saw on the internet. That was a common friendship dynamic.

Or maybe Jason wasn’t all that interested in pursuing a relationship. Perhaps Dick had misread the whole thing. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Just as he thought that, his phone vibrated with a new message.

Dick grabbed it.

A message from Jason.

It was a photo of the sea, shimmering in the early Gotham morning.

Pretty. Much prettier than Dick had expected anyway. The Gotham coastlines were not particularly known for their aesthetic appeal.

The accompanying message read: Saw this beautiful sight this morning and thought of you.

Dick snorted.

There was no way Jason wasn’t interested. That type of heavy-handed compliments were used by only two types of people. Scammers or someone extremely inexperienced.

You don’t know he’s not a scammer , his mind supplied as Dick laid down on the training mats and thought about his reply. Maybe he’ll be asking you for cash to save his business in a couple of weeks.

Dick doubted it. The bakery’s financial records were spotless and traceable. The complete lack of problems was what prompted Dick to look into Jason’s personal background to begin with.

Besides, it was 6am. What sort of person in their right mind would send a “I think you’re pretty!” text at 6am. Only someone completely smitten.

Dick was no stranger to being pursued. But it had been a long time since anyone had tried. It had been a long time since Dick had interacted with anyone who would try.

He wondered if Jason wanted a one-night-stand, or if he was interested in an actual relationship. Dick wasn’t a big fan of one-night-stands. He’d always found them supremely unsatisfactory. But it does feel like Jason was only attracted to his looks.

Dick spun his phone around his wrist as he thought.

Should he check?

If Jason was only interested in sex then that would explain why he didn’t mention him to Tim. And if that was all Jason was after, Dick would prefer to know sooner rather than later.

He was contemplating how best to word things when he received a second message.

J: Not that your beautiful face is the only thing great about you.

Dick hesitated for only a moment.

D: I’ve been told my ass is pretty great too 😉

He wondered if Jason would jump on that invite to be more sexual. Dick was also no stranger to being reduced to a sex object either.

Jason doesn’t.

J: Right now I’m more impressed that you’re awake. It’s 6am.

Jason hadn’t seemed to consider that he might have woken Dick up with his texts. Must be one of those meticulous people that always put their phones on silent before bed.

D: What can I say, I’m an early bird. So early that I don’t sleep in the morning 😌

J: You’ve not gone to bed yet have you.

D: Nope

J: It’s 6am.

D: I was too busy thinking about your apple croissant 😉

J: Well you can always come by again.

J: Unless that was a euphemism.

D: 😉

J: That does not clear it up for me.

D: I’m teasing. Sorry to disappoint, but the real reason I’m awake is because I’m working

J: So busy.

D: Gotta make that bread somehow

There was a brief pause in which Dick received no messages for a while. And then…

J: Shop’s getting busy. I’ll text later.

D: Til next time 😘

Okay, so maybe Dick was laying it on pretty thick too. But he couldn’t help it. Texting Jason was just so easy and casual and comfortable. And Dick always felt like he’d been wrapped in a fluffy blanket after a conversation with him.

Tim is going to be so mad when he finds out, his brain reminded him, dumping a bucket of icy cold water on that fluffy blanket with no remorse.

Dick bit his lip. That was true. Tim had explicitly said to stay away.

But…

But maybe…

Maybe Tim didn’t have to find out.

Chapter Text

Jason was minding his own business, going through his daily food prep when the door opened.

Red Robin took one look at him and, without even fully closing the door, gave him a knowing smirk.

“It’s going well,” Red said.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“I’m right aren’t I?” Red continued, needling him like the inquisitive brat he was.

“Yes, it’s going well,” Jason relented. Not like it was a big secret anyway.

Red looked pleased. Which was strange, since this had nothing to do with him.

“Why are you so happy?” Jason asked. Maybe he was pleased about something else.

“I can’t be happy that my friend is snagging his roman statue boy toy?”

“Okay, firstly, this guy is not my boy toy. Secondly...” Jason paused. “I don’t think we’re using ‘boy toy’ correctly. Isn’t that when it’s only about sex?”

Red turned contemplative. “I thought you use it to compliment your friend’s partner for being an attractive guy...”

“Oh...” Jason wasn’t sure. He had never dated in his life, and he most certainly never had these kinds of conversations with other people before.

“Have you asked him out yet?”

“No!” Jason protested. “It’s been four days.”

“Technically, this is the fifth day.”

“Well I’ve not texted him today, so I’m only counting the four days.”

Red hummed. “You should ask him out.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Come on, what do you have to lose?” Red needled.

“Er, lots?” Jason replied. “I mean, I barely know him. Like I said, it’s been four days.”

Red Robin sat on his usual seat and swung his legs. “Does he set off any red flags?”

Jason wasn’t entirely sure what constituted as a red flag in these circumstances. The only red flags he could think of was when someone’s body language implied they were about to fight you for the piece of bread you had in your hands. 

Or they were going to fight you for your corner spot on the street. Or they were going to fight you for the countless other reasons people fought each other when homeless and hungry and desperate.

Dick definitely did not send off those types of red flags. But neither Dick nor Jason were homeless, hungry or desperate.

Even homeless, hungry and desperate people didn’t always send off those types of red flags. Jason avoided other people as much as he could, but he’d seen the group of tents in abandoned car parks. And the gaggle of people gathered around soup kitchens.

Maybe because they were too tired. Or maybe because there was the promise of food in mere moments. Or maybe because they were at lower risk of being trafficked on account of not being children. But they had seemed peaceful enough.

Not that any of this was relevant to the topic at hand.

“What kind of red flags?” Jason asked.

“Oh you know, being kind of sleazy. Giving off domestic abuser vibes. Or human trafficker vibes.”

Okay, so maybe adults were trafficked plenty in Gotham too. He supposed Red Robin would know more about it than him.

“I have no idea what those vibes would look like,” Jason admitted. “But no? I don’t think so?”

“Hmm...” Red Robin stared at the ceiling, as if the sky would give him the answers he was looking for. “Give me his name. I’ll run him through our systems.”

“Red!” Jason chastised.

“Only to see if he’s ever been arrested for anything!” Red Robin said defensively. “Or if he’s spoken to anyone that has been arrested for things.”

At least half the populace of Gotham would show up in a search like that. The police were pretty sensitive in Gotham. Jason had seen people get arrested for doing nothing more than walk down the street.

Jason had seen people get arrested for even less than that.

“Could check if he’s part of the Mafia, or any criminal organisations,” Red added.

“He’s not part of the Mafia,” Jason rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know that.”

Jason was pretty sure Dick Grayson would never be involved in any criminal activity. Nothing large scale anyway. Maybe he downloaded an illegal music file here and there. Though given how much music Wayne Enterprise owned, Jason doubted it.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not.”

“If you let me do a background check, you’ll be 100% sure.” Red Robin grinned toothily.

Jason shook his head. “No. I said no background checks.”

“That was before you got invested.”

“No!” Jason laughed. “And I’m not invested.”

“You’re a bit invested.”

Okay, so Jason was a bit invested. But Dick was a nice guy!

“And I just want you to be safe,” Red Robin said.

Which was nice of him. But Jason was sure that if Dick Grayson ever wanted to harm him, he could probably do it with the law on his side. He was definitely rich enough to bribe the right people.

A thought struck Jason.

“Have you ever done a background check on me?” he asked.

He knew Red Robin had checked his birth date, but Jason never considered that might have been part of a wider search of Jason’s background.

Not that there was much to Jason’s background. He spent most of his life on the streets, and then he was in the dorms.

Red Robin scowled, as if suddenly angry. Jason wasn't sure whether the anger was because Jason doubted Red’s ability to respect a person’s privacy, or whether Jason hadn’t immediately figured out that Red Robin did a full background check on him months ago.

Either way, Jason didn’t mind much. Red Robin knew quite a lot about him already anyway. It wasn’t like Red would find something that Jason wasn’t happy to share with him.

“No,” Red Robin said, huffing like an angry cat. He must be mad that Jason would think he was the paranoid type. Even though he was the one suggesting drastic security measures.

“Just checking,” Jason said, doing his best to sound reassuring.

“I’m not mad at you.”

Jason quirked an eyebrow. “Then what?”

Red huffed. “I didn’t know, okay?” Red Robin said. And there was definitely a guilty edge there, as if Red was scared Jason would be upset at him.

“What didn’t you know?”

Red Robin pressed his lips together.

Jason waited, nervous.

“Batman did a background check on you.”

Batman. Batman did what?

Why the hell would Batman care about Jason’s life?

Jason thought back to that night where Batman appeared in his doorway without warning. Red Robin had returned practically in tears.

Jason had assumed there was some sort of vigilante drama happening. But perhaps Batman stopped by because he found out Jason was street trash.

Jason decided to ask. “Is that why he showed up?”

“Yeah.”

“Were my credentials not good enough for him or something?” Jason said, frowning. Who did Batman think he was? To judge Jason like that, just because he didn’t get to stay in school.

“Well that’s the stupid thing,” Red said. “He was worried because he couldn’t find anything about you.”

Okay, that was unexpected. Jason had a birth certificate, surely he was in the system somewhere.

“There’s no record of where you went after you dropped out of school,” Red continued. “I tried to explain that it was because your parents were gone and you lived on the streets until the Martha Wayne Initiative, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Red Robin was clearly very upset about all of this. On Jason’s behalf.

Jason wasn’t sure how he felt about that. To have Red Robin get angry on his behalf...

No one had ever gotten angry on his behalf before. No one had cared about Jason, much less what someone else might think about Jason.

“Basically, he kept insisting that you were a danger and I should stop showing up for my own good and-”

“Fuck him.”

Red Robin stared.

“Fuck him.” Jason said. “I don’t care what he thinks of me.”

Red Robin didn’t immediately react, but then a small smile appeared on his face.

“You do realise you’re talking about Batman right?”

“So? A dickhead is a dickhead,” Jason said. Red was looking amused. “Besides, I bet I can take him on in a fight.”

“You absolutely would not be able to take him on in a fight,” Red Robin said, stifling a chuckle now.

“Hey, I can try. Don’t underestimate my special punch.”

“He’d break your arm before you even finish your swing,” Red Robin said with a laugh. Then he sobered. “Er, not that he would. He’s actually a pacifist.”

“A...pacifist...”

Batman was a pacifist. Jason did not expect Batman, the mysterious dude that went around beating up criminals, to be a pacifist.

“Yeah.”

“Has he thought about taking a career in social work instead? Or maybe running a charity?” Jason asked.

Red Robin laughed again. Then once again, he turned serious. “It doesn’t always work out like you think.”

Jason thought back to Dick Grayson. How his attempts at altruism were repeatedly hijacked. He thought of Bruce Wayne, and all the initiatives he made that had failed. Even a miracle worker like Tim Drake had hit roadblocks at points.

Sometimes things didn’t work out. Sometimes unexpected challenges were inevitable.

“Yeah...I know.”

“Anyway, enough about Batman and his lack of common sense. Tell me more about that guy you like,” Red Robin said.

Jason groaned. But he also couldn’t help but smile. “There’s not much to tell, Red.”

“What are his interests? What do you talk about? Where do you think you’re going to take him on your first date?”

“Um...the only one of his interests that we’ve talked about is that he likes apple croissants. And doughnuts,” Jason frowned, now that he thought about it, Dick Grayson was pretty careful about sharing personal details.

“And I don’t know where I could take him for a date,” Jason continued. He had never dated in his life. He’d never even thought about dating before now. So much of his focus had been on surviving and making sure the bakery didn’t go under.

“Want to know my favourite date spots?” Red Robin asked.

Jason wasn’t sure a vigilante’s favourite date spots would be appropriate, but Red Robin was clearly very into this topic. Maybe because it was mundane and had nothing to do with people dying or vigilante drama.

“Sure. I could do with some suggestions,” Jason smiled.

Chapter Text

Dick’s first plan was to wait until Tim was gone. To his surprise, Tim didn’t actually stop by the bakery.

He’d been under the impression Tim visited Jason twice a day, once as Red Robin, and once as Tim Drake. But perhaps he’d been wrong and Tim only visited the bakery as Tim Drake occasionally.

Things were getting pretty busy at Wayne Enterprise these days. It made sense Tim couldn’t visit every day anymore. If he had even visited every day to begin with.

Dick checked the tracker again. Yep, Tim was definitely still at Wayne Tower.

For a moment, Dick wondered if Bruce ever checked up on them like this. Immediately, he tried to think about something else. He didn’t want to become like Bruce any more than he needed to.

Jason didn’t have a tracker, but Dick knew he was still in the shop. There were still 10 minutes until closing time.

They’d been texting every day, several times a day. Dick knew this was dangerous, but he desperately wanted to see him. To have an actual conversation. Maybe gauge Jason’s level of interest in dating.

From a logical standpoint, this was a very bad idea. But Dick hadn’t been able to stop himself. Just like how he hadn’t been able to stop himself from texting.

He couldn’t even make himself try to stop texting.

Honestly, Dick had no right to accuse Tim of visiting this bakery too often. Dick barely knew the guy and he was already addicted.

Jason was much smarter, sharper, and funnier than any baker had a right to be.

Not that there was a standard code of conduct for being a baker. Outside of basic food hygiene and a minimum level of skill in baking.

Dick took a breath and got out of the car.

There was no one in the shop, which was a surprise. He had been expecting Jason to have a lot of last minute customers.

Apparently not. Jason was standing behind the till and texting someone.

Dick’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Right. Apparently Jason was texting him.

Dick pulled the door open. The bell chimed and Jason looked up.

“Hey! I just sent you a message,” Jason smiled.

“Oh yeah?” Dick feigned ignorance and pulled out his phone.

It was a simple ‘what are you up to?’ text.

“I guess me standing here answers that question,” Dick said. Jason grinned wider in response.

Jason looked good. Which was strange, because Dick knew Jason didn’t look any different from the last time Dick had seen him. He hadn’t changed physically. He was wearing the same baker jacket. By all accounts, Jason should look exactly the same to him.

But he didn’t.

He looked good.

He looked really good.

Gosh, Dick was smitten. This was bad.

“Um...” Dick said, when he realised the two of them had just been staring and smiling at each other for the last few minutes. This was really bad.

“Oh, right. Yeah, what can I get you?” Jason said, snapping himself out of whatever daze he had been under too.

“Actually, I just wanted to see you,” Dick admitted on a whim.

Jason paused. His lips curled up in a shy smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, got to check the person behind the screen is still real and all that.”

Jason chuckled.

“But you sure have lots of stuff left over,” Dick noted. The shelves were still stacked full. The bread baskets too. “Slow day?”

“Oh...yeah,” Jason fretted. “It’s, um, just like this sometimes. You get used to it.”

“Want me to buy everything to cover your costs?” he said lightly, half-teasing, half-serious.

The blood immediately drained from Jason’s face.

Did he say something wrong? Dick bit his lip. Maybe it was the money. Was Jason uncomfortable that Dick could make semi-serious jokes like that?

Damn it, he should have been more careful.

“No, it’s okay,” Jason said quickly. He was definitely anxious now. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-” Dick began.

“No no, it’s not-” Jason interrupted before Dick could even finish his sentence. Then he cut himself off too. “Er, thanks for offering. And stuff.”

“Right...”

Dick was ruining everything. Why did he always ruin everything?

“Actually...I need to close now...” Jason said, not looking at him.

“Yes, of course.” Dick nodded. “I guess I’ll...” he made an awkward little wave as he walked backwards towards the door.

“I’ll text you!” Jason said, before Dick turned around. “Later.” His eyes were so earnest, Dick didn’t even care if he was just saying that to be nice.

“Can’t wait,” Dick smiled. He would hold out hope that things were fine, and that he hadn’t ruined it all with his senselessness.

Jason followed him to the door, locking it shut behind him. Dick gave him another awkward wave, and decided to walk further towards the edge of the port. Maybe he could scream into the void for a bit and feel better.

He’d barely walked three steps, barely moved past the edge of Jason’s shop, when he noticed the kid.

Jason’s bakery was on the end of the row of shops, which lined a small inlet that separated this part of the port from the fishmarket across the way. Dick knew from visiting as Batman that the backdoor faced the inlet. And that if he stood at the side of the shop, he would be able to peer into the road between the shops and the inlet.

That was where the kid was standing, right there at the side of the shop, peering round the corner into the backroad.

Dick blinked.

That was suspicious behaviour if there ever was one.

“What are you doing?” he asked casually.

The kid spun around. It was a young girl of around 11 or 12 if Dick had to guess. Maybe younger. Her eyes widened at the sight of Dick.

And then she bolted.

“Hey!” Dick yelled, running after her. He turned the corner just in time to see her snatch something from the back of Jason’s shop - that was definitely a bag - and ran.

“Hey wait!” Dick shouted again, giving chase. She was only small, he would be able to catch up to her in seconds and find out what she stole.

At the same time, Jason burst through the door. “Don’t! Leave it!”

Dick skidded to a stop.

The little girl disappeared into the distance.

“Why did you stop me?”

Jason looked a little helpless. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You better come in,” he said.

Dick frowned and walked towards the bakery’s backdoor. He glanced at the spot the little girl had grabbed the bag, and noticed a large, wooden crate.

A crate with two identical bags, the same type of bag that the little girl had taken.

Beside the bags was a pile of leaflets held down by a brick.

Dick frowned at the crate, but tore his eyes away as he entered the bakery kitchen.

He had expected the bakery to be mostly empty. Maybe a bucket and mop or some cleaning supplies as Jason closed up shop.

Instead, there was an entire operation happening.

Every bit of work surface was covered. With rows upon rows of paper bags and boxes. There was a tray of cakes. A basket of bread. And little pots of round, disposable soup cartons.

Off to the side, was a stove with four, large, steaming stock pots.

“Jason...what’s going on?”

Jason looked resigned. He wasn’t meeting Dick’s eyes.

Dick glanced around the kitchen again. He took in pieces of bread, cut into neat chunks, on a large chopping board.

“Are you running a soup kitchen?”

Jason heaved a big sigh. He stood up tall and stared right at the edge of the ceiling, specifically at the point where the ceiling met the edge of the wall.

“No. No I am not,” Jason said.

Dick frowned.

“Then what’s all this?”

“I am...throwing away leftover food from the bakery.”

There was a pile of wooden spoons and forks by the paper bags. And a tall stack of napkins.

This was not how people threw away leftover food.

Jason was still staring at the wall opposite him.

“You can just say you’re running a soup kitchen.” Dick didn’t know why Jason would even lie about this. There was no shame in being altruistic. The opposite in fact.

“I’m not,” Jason repeated, “because running a soup kitchen in Gotham requires a licence. Which I don’t have. So I’m not running a soup kitchen.”

Okay, that was a good point. Gotham laws meant it was notoriously difficult to get any actual charitable organisation started.

“So...you’re just throwing away leftover food.” Dick said, slowly, “...with individual bags and accompanying utensils.” 

“That’s right. I’m just throwing away leftover food with individual bags and accompanying utensils,” Jason confirmed.

Finally, finally Jason looked at him. He seemed nervous, but he also seemed ready to fight.

Dick didn’t want to fight. Dick was...

Dick was enthralled.

Even more than before.

Plus, this explained why Jason was so nervous about Dick buying all the cakes.

This was a very heavy burden for a small business to carry. It was a daily loss of profits that was hard to cover in a shop that had small margins to begin with.

To think Jason turned out to be someone with such a big heart.

It was incredible.

“Please go out with me?” Dick said before the words fully processed in his head. He supposed it was better than jumping Jason on the spot.

It was just as well that Dick didn’t jump Jason, because Jason immediately froze up. For a second, Dick thought he was going to get rejected.

“You mean like...tonight?” Jason asked instead.

“Oh...well I was thinking Friday,” Dick said, even though he hadn’t made any plans at all. “But tonight works too.”

“Friday is good,” Jason said, nodding frantically. “Friday is great.”

“Okay,” Dick beamed. Jason didn’t smile back. He just stood there, stiff as a board. Dick wondered if it was from nerves or from confusion. Either way, it was adorable. “Friday it is then!”

“Friday it is,” Jason repeated.

“I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

Dick gave Jason one last, bright smile and let himself out of the kitchen. As he closed the door behind him, he glanced at the crate. The remaining two bags had gone. Dick looked around, trying to find a hint of street kids, but there weren’t any.

Of course not, Gotham street kids were incredible at keeping hidden. The only kids around were the ones on the other side of the small inlet, poking into the water as they played. Probably the fishmonger’s children.

Then again...those were some awfully scruffy clothes.

One of the kids glanced up and caught his eye, then quickly looked away.

Right, definitely a street kid. Or at least a kid living in poverty. Dick should go before he scared them off.

He rounded back towards the front, hearing some telltale scuffling as someone dashed off. By the time he turned the corner, there was no one there.

Of course there weren’t.

Dick kept his eyes straight ahead, pointedly ignoring the pitter pattering of boots quietly sneaking past behind him.

There weren’t many outlets for Gotham’s homeless orphans to get food. Many of the official charities had policies in place that would direct social workers to parentless children. To ensure they went to a foster home or an orphanage.

Which would work great if half of them weren’t fronts for child trafficking rings.

Batman regularly shut them down of course, but they would pop back up within weeks, sometimes even days.

Like a particularly persistent weed.

Dick knew a lot of the locals had cottoned on to this. He knew there were small volunteer groups that would sometimes leave necessities at strategic places. For both the adults and children that were failed by the system.

But this was the first time Dick had ever met someone who gave so much as an individual.

Jason was amazing.

No wonder Tim was friends with him. Birds of a feather flocked together and all that.

Dick wanted to walk right up to Tim and tell him that Dick had been wrong. That Jason was clearly just a very open, altruistic, and kind individual.

You can’t do that. Tim wanted you to stay away from the bakery.

Right. He couldn’t tell him. Tim would be so mad.

As Dick got into his car, it struck him, once again, why this was such a bad idea.

But it’s not like he could cancel the date now. Not without really hurting Jason. And himself.

Dick sighed, slumping forward on the steering wheel.

Why do you always ruin everything?

Chapter Text

Jason was a ball of nerves when Tim walked through the door.

“Something wrong?” Tim asked.

“He asked me out!!” Jason exclaimed.

So the guy liked Jason enough that he made the first move? “That’s great,” Tim smiled.

Then he paused, watching the way Jason was practically vibrating on the spot. “Is this excited-nervous or have you changed your mind about him.”

“I don’t even know what I’m feeling,” Jason sighed, cutting the dough in front of him into pieces.

“Where is he taking you?”

“You know, he didn’t actually say...” Jason frowned. Then, suddenly, Jason looked up at Tim in alarm. “I have nothing to wear.”

That was not something he thought Jason would care about. But he supposed making a good impression on someone you like was a common enough worry.

“You don’t know that. If he’s taking you to a bakery course then you’d have plenty of clothes,” Tim said, hopping up on his chair.

Jason gave him a deadpan stare, Tim just grinned back.

“If you’re really worried, why not ask him.”

Jason didn’t speak for a few moments as he rolled the dough into vaguely round shapes.

After a while, he stopped what he was doing and said, “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” and pulled out his phone.

“Er, right now?” Tim said, surprised. “It’s like, 3:37 in the morning.”

“He work nights. Or work late. One of those.”

3:37 in the morning was very late. Didn’t Jason say the guy was rich? There weren’t many rich people that worked late. There weren’t many rich people that worked at all.

Then again, Tim never did find out what Jason’s definition of ‘rich’ was.

Jason’s phone buzzed almost immediately with a reply. Jason didn’t even get the chance to put it back in his pocket. Guess mystery dude was awake.

“He says I can wear whatever I want...” Jason reported sullenly.

“Helpful.”

“Very.” Jason made a frustrated noise as he shaped another piece of dough.

“But this does mean you can’t go wrong,” Tim said. “I know someone who said ‘wear what you want’ to his alien princess girlfriend once. She showed up in a flaming ballgown.”

Jason laughed.

“If only I had a flaming ballgown.”

“Seriously though, it was their first date. He was going to take her to the park for a picnic. But once he saw the ballgown he decided to change tact and took them to a fancy restaurant instead. So if your guy has any sense, he’ll adapt too.”

“I’ve got to admit, my clothes are much more suited for a picnic in the park than a fancy restaurant. I definitely don’t own anything fancy.”

Tim shrugged. “Dress codes for fancy restaurants depend on how much money you have anyway.”

“The more money, the fancier you’re expected to dress?” Jason asked hopefully.

Tim was almost sad to dash his hopes. “The more money you have, the less they care about what you’re wearing.”

“Bribery at its finest.”

“It’s not quite bribery. It’s more...social status. And reputation. For restaurants anyway.”

“Bribery through social status at its finest.”

“Something like that.”

Jason shook his head and put the tray of shaped dough onto the metal rack beside him.

“When are you going on your date anyway?” Tim asked.

“Friday. He’s picking me up at 4pm.”

Friday...

That was tomorrow.

Damn, mystery dude moved fast. They only met each other last week.

Then again, Dick asked Helena on a date within the first five minutes of meeting her. Some people were just like that.

“So you have over a day to work out what to wear.”

Jason sighed. “I don’t know anything about clothes, Red. All I have are white t-shirts and grey trousers.”

Tim didn’t think there was anything wrong with either of those, but he supposed Jason wanted to impress this guy.

“Shopping trip tonight?”

“Maybe...”

Unlike Jason, Tim liked clothes a lot. Though Bruce said his tastes were too varied, which Tim interpreted to mean that Bruce’s tastes were too boring. Just because Tim could rock a band tee with designer shorts.

He was tempted to go buy Jason some date-appropriate clothing, if Jason really didn’t have anything, but he wasn’t sure whether that would go down well.

“I’m sure you’ll find something, either in your wardrobe or at the shops,” Tim said instead.

Jason didn’t reply at first. Then he let out that aggrieved sigh again.

“What kind of t-shirt and trousers are they?” Tim asked. Maybe he could help Jason brainstorm.

“Mnnh, I can show you, if you want. It’s only upstairs.”

Tim perked up, this was the first time Jason had ever invited Tim to his flat.

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“When?”

Jason was still doing food prep, he probably didn’t mean right now. 

But if the date was tomorrow, they didn’t have much time...

“Not now. We can go up at 5:30, when we usually have breakfast,” Jason gave him an apologetic grimace, “I won’t be able to make you anything.”

“That’s fine!” Tim said. “I can eat at home.” He was getting invited into Jason’s flat!

“Alright then.”

---

Tim had to stop himself from bouncing on the spot as Jason locked up his bakery and opened his front door.

“I’ve not vacuumed today yet,” Jason said. “I hope you’re not allergic to dust.”

“I don’t mind mess.” Tim was definitely not the tidiest person around.

“It’s not really messy, just...well, you’ll see.”

The front door opened to a small area for coats and shoes, and then immediately went upwards with the staircase. Tim frowned, there were no sloping ceilings in the bakery. He wondered if there was storage space under the stairs.

Jason didn’t wait for Tim to finish pondering, he trudged up the stairs into the flat proper.

The staircase led straight into the living room, with a small countertop separating the lounge area from the open-plan kitchen on the right.

An empty coffee table sat in front of the large, but weathered-looking, sofa which in turn was facing the set of unusually wide windows at the front of the house.

At the back of the flat was another wide window, and then a big set of double doors leading onto a small balcony with a sturdy wall instead of the more common iron railing. To the left of the window at the back was a door. Jason immediately disappeared into it so it was probably the bedroom. To the right of the window was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, filled to the brim with books. Right by the staircase was another table with a small tray that held Jason’s keys, an elaborate looking teapot and a mug.

Tim didn’t see any dust. He most definitely did not see any mess.

In fact, the flat was practically spotless. There were no clothes on the floor. No crisp packets or sweets wrappers. No empty cups or plates or anything.

Even the teapot was clean and empty. Tim checked.

Tim passed by the door just past the stairs, bathroom (he checked that too), and stood awkwardly by the sofa.

“Okay,” Jason said, coming out of his room with a pile of clothes. It was a much smaller pile than Tim was expecting. “These are all my clothes.”

Jason dumped everything on the large, muted-green sofa.

Tim stared.

Jason had not been kidding. He only owned t-shirts and grey trousers.

They weren’t even nice t-shirts or trousers. The trousers were all shapeless and clearly meant for wearing around the house or for exercise.

Although Tim wouldn’t never wear them outside of the house, not even for an early morning jog.

Every single t-shirt was a solid, plain white. No logos, slogans nor patterns to mix things up a little.

“Did you buy your clothes in some sort of bulk outlet place?” Tim asked, frowning as he picked a t-shirt up with a thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah,” Jason said, with absolutely no shame. “Is it that obvious?” Okay maybe some shame.

“A little bit,” Tim said, trying to be tactful. Then he gave up on tact because just...why, Jason? Why? “Your clothes suck.”

“That’s literally what I said,” he seemed more amused than offended, which was good. “I told you, I have nothing to wear for the date.”

“What are your sizes?”

“Er, large.”

“I meant measurements.”

Jason stared at him for a few moments. “Large?”

“Do you have a tape measure?”

Jason rumbled around in one of the kitchen cupboards. “I have this metallic one,” he said, tossing it to Tim.

Tim looked at the tape measure in his hand. It was the type that people used for measuring furniture and room sizes.

If it weren’t for the bookshelf filled to the brim with books, and the random teapot, Jason would be the definition of minimalistic.

Tim tapped on his wrist computer. “I’m scanning you.”

“What? No, I don’t want to be scanned.” Jason actually ducked behind the kitchen counter.

Tim rolled his eyes. There was no way the counter contained materials that could genuinely block the scanner's alien technology but he disabled it anyway, out of respect for Jason.

“Fine, I’ll use rope." He pulled out the thinnest string he had. “Stand still. And hold your arms up to the side.”

“Why do you need my measurements anyway?”

“Because I’m going to get you some actual clothes.”

“These are actual clothes. They’re just not impressive dating clothes.”

“Well I’m going to get you some impressive dating clothes.”

“I...I dunno, Red.” Jason seemed hesitant.

“Just one outfit, I promise,” Tim said. “Please? So I can sleep soundly at night?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Your clothes suck,” Tim repeated.

Jason smiled, “Fine fine.” He held up his arms.

---

“You said ‘one’ outfit, Red.”

“Well obviously I had to let you make the final choice," Tim grinned.

They were in Jason’s flat, again. It was 2:21 am. They’d agreed to meet a little before Jason began food prep so he could try on what Tim had      picked out for him.

“We don’t have enough time,” Jason protested. “There must be at least 50 shirts here.”

“There are only 12 shirts, and you don’t have to try on all of them. Just the ones you like the look of.”

“You even bought jackets?”

Tim shrugged. “I figured might as well. I don’t know if you had jackets and there was only one coat by the door.”

“I used to, but it got too worn and fell apart.” Jason picked up a brown, biker jacket. “It actually looked a lot like this one.”

Score one for Tim. He worked really hard to get things he thought Jason would actually like.

Which meant no designer stuff. No overly quirky stuff. No, well, no to a lot of stuff.

There was no point in buying Jason a brand new outfit if it made Jason nervous just from wearing it.

“Go on," he prompted. "Pick a shirt and a pair of trousers and see if they fit. The size should be fine, but some things you can’t tell until you’ve put it on. Even if you have a tailor.”

“Of course you have a tailor.”

“Vigilante armour is custom built you know,” Tim sing-songed with a grin.

Jason looked through the options. “This must have been expensive. I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“I can pay. It wasn’t that expensive. The total here wouldn’t even cover all the food you’ve made me.”

“You pay me back for your food.”

“Not since I’ve come back,” Tim said. Because he hadn’t. What with Kon dying and his family feeling like complete outsiders, he had completely forgotten that he was still technically a customer to Jason. “If it bothers you that much, consider this a gift.”

“Oh alright,” Jason said.

He was a lot more carefree about these things nowadays, Tim realised. Guess Jason didn’t think of him as a customer anymore either.

Tim never even noticed when their slightly-weird-but-mutually-beneficial arrangement transitioned into an actual friendship. But he was not complaining.

Jason ended up picking three of the shirts and two pairs of trousers. He was only going to keep the brown jacket out of the four jackets Tim had bought. But it was clear he liked all of them, so Tim managed to persuade him into being indulgent for once.

And then it was food prep time.

“Thanks,” Jason said, when he gave Tim his breakfast baguette several hours later. “I was really worried.” Jason paused. “I still am worried, but at least the clothes are taken care of.”

Tim swallowed the giant bite of bread, eggs and bacon he’d just chewed through. “You’re going to be great.”

Jason gave him a rueful smile. “Thanks, Red.”

Chapter Text

Jason wished he had an iron.

There was a wrinkle on his shirt. Which wasn’t something he usually cared about. But he wanted to look at least a little bit presentable for the first date.

He smoothed a hand over the wrinkle. It stayed stubbornly creased.

He should have invested in an iron.

The bell rang; a loud, piercing shriek. Jason jumped and checked his phone.

4pm, right on the dot.

That made Jason’s heart pound harder. For some reason.

He opened the door.

“Hi,” Dick said. His smile was bright and his entire being was practically glowing with radiance. Jason could hardly breathe.

“Hi...” Jason said. The word came out more like a sigh and he coughed. “You’re right on time,” he continued, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Dick’s smile had turned amused during Jason’s cough, which made Jason’s cheeks burn even more.

“I did say four,” Dick said, kindly not teasing Jason. Then he pulled out a giant bouquet with a flourish. “I got you this.”

Jason faltered.

It was a large, and probably expensive, bouquet of roses. They were a beautiful deep red, each stem cleared of thorns, the entire bundle wrapped up in decorative paper.

Just like the one that couple had been holding when they were gunned down for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No. No thinking about dead people on his first ever date.

Jason pushed the thought out of his mind, even though his brain kept flashing back the sprawled out bodies. Of the blood seeping through the petals.

He must have taken too long to reply. Dick’s happy and bright expression drooped a little.

“Are you okay?” Dick glanced between Jason and the roses. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, are you allergic?” Dick gasped, “I never even asked.”

“No,” Jason said, grabbing the bouquet. “No, I’m not allergic. I’ll just um...put these in water.”

He ran upstairs before Dick could say another word.

Okay, so, his first ever date was not starting off all that great. Jason felt shame swirl around him at his overreaction. It was just a bouquet.

It was only until he reached his kitchen that he remembered he didn’t actually have anything to put the flowers in.

He never did like flowers.

But they were the first romantic gift he had ever received. Surely he could figure something out.

Dick is still waiting downstairs, his mind supplied.

Right, so he didn’t have much time to figure it out. Jason plugged up his kitchen sink and turned on the faucet, awkwardly balancing the bouquet on the edge. It was so huge it didn’t even fit in his sink. Where on earth did Dick find such a huge bouquet of flowers?

Once the stems were adequately submerged in water, Jason turned off the tap. This will have to do for now. He’d figure out the rest when he got home.

Dick was probably still waiting. Jason hoped he wouldn’t get downstairs to find that Dick had given up on him as a lost cause and left.

Of course, that didn’t happen. Dick was standing right where Jason had left him. He looked nervous, and when Jason appeared at the doorway again, there was an apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said, “I should have checked if you liked flowers.”

Which was ridiculous, who asked whether someone liked flowers or not? That would completely ruin the whole point of a surprise present.

“It’s fine, I love flowers,” Jason lied. “I was just er...surprised, since I wasn’t expecting it.”

Dick clearly didn’t believe him, but he gave him a soft smile and said, “You’re sweet.” So Jason figured it must be alright.

“Where are we going?” Jason asked, thinking it’d be best to change the subject as he locked his front door.

“I was thinking a picnic,” Dick said. And immediately Jason’s mind jumped to flaming ballgowns. “Although we can go somewhere else if you’d prefer.”

“Hey, anything is good with me. I’ve never had a picnic date before.”

Dick looked startled. “Never?”

“Well...I’ve actually never been on a date before,” Jason said, suddenly feeling self-conscious all over again. First the flowers, now this. God he was screwing it all up.

At least his clothes were nice. Seeing what Dick was wearing, Jason was very glad he took up on Red’s offer for new clothes. Dick was in an elegant, flowing white shirt and fitted trousers that made Jason think of the medieval princes from fantasy novels.

All he needed was a noble steed and Jason would 100% believe that Dick was royalty.

Then again, that dark blue car of his looked plenty noble on its own.

Dick was staring. “This is your first ever date?”

“Er...yeah.”

“So...I’m your first ever...” Dick trailed off.

Oh no, was Dick going to think that Jason was too inexperienced?

Jason could feel his hackles rise. He had been a bit too busy not getting trafficked to go on a date.

“Is that a problem?” he asked. There was an edge to his voice that he couldn’t quite smooth down.

“No!” Dick said hurriedly. “No, of course not. I was just thinking that a picnic might be a bit lacklustre for your first ever date.”

Was Dick worried that the date was not impressive enough? Dick, who appeared in Jason’s life like an angel descending from heavens, was worried that a picnic was not impressive enough.

This man was too good to be true.

“It’s not lacklustre,” Jason quickly said. “I think it’s a great idea.”

Dick gave him another smile. “You’re very sweet.”

“Maybe I just want to get to the food already,” Jason tried to joke. He wasn’t entirely sure that was funny enough to be a joke but whatever. Dick was still smiling at him, so it can’t have been too bad.

“In that case,” Dick opened the door to the passenger seat of his shiny car, “after you.”

The car was very nice. Much nicer than the bus. Or any transport Jason had ever been in.

Not that he’d been in many vehicles in his life. He cycled to most places these days. And the dorms had been walking distance to his classes.

Even before the dorms, Jason made sure to sleep in a spot that was close to his classes.

He’d been on buses and the train before though. Back when his mother was alive. And when he had been looking for a place to set up the shop.

None of it compared to the luxury that he had the fortune to sit on right now. The leather, or faux leather because Jason never could tell the difference between the two, was soft and pliable and gave just the right amount of support.

Jason would probably happily sleep in this car.

Dick rounded the front and got into the driver’s seat.

“Seatbelt,” Dick said absentmindedly.

“Hm?”

“Seatbelt,” Dick repeated, pulling on a strap to his right. “Safety first.”

Jason looked to his left, where a similar piece of strap and what was clearly one end of a buckle could be seen. “Oh right.”

He tugged on it.

Nothing happened.

He tugged it again.

“It’s pretty sensitive,” Dick said, “you need to go slow.”

Slow...

Jason slowly pulled the strap and finally the seatbelt moved. Thank goodness. He was afraid he’d broken Dick’s car before they even had their first date.

They eased out onto the main road at a steady pace. It was strange, seeing the world from this angle of the road. And he might have contemplated that more if he wasn’t so nervous about this picnic date.

He wondered where they were going for this picnic. Perhaps one of the many fancy beaches, or maybe Dick had something more traditional in mind and was heading for the parks.

They seemed to be following the coastline though, so beach seemed more likely.

Or so Jason had thought.

“Er, where are we going?” Jason asked as they drove over a bridge.

“There’s a good spot further out, up on the hill,” Dick smiled at him, clearly not thinking anything might be wrong.

And it probably wasn’t. Even though Jason’s nerves immediately ratcheted up as unfamiliar scenery flew by.

He’d definitely never crossed any of the bridges before. There had never been any reason to.

Everyone knew there were only giant graveyards and enormous estates up this way. There were even rumours that you could get arrested for not being rich enough.

Or was that arrested for looking at the houses?

Jason couldn’t remember.

Either way, he never had any business so far north of Gotham.

Wayne Estate was probably around here though.

Was Dick taking him back home?

On the first date?

Surely not. But a private garden would definitely be a good private spot for a picnic.

Dick turned left, winding up round and round and after a while Jason could see nothing but trees and road and the sky. Hedges lined the roads here, as if there needed to be even more privacy for the wealthy.

Dick must have sensed some of Jason’s agitation, because he said in a soothing voice, “We’re nearly there.”

“Great,” Jason said. He hoped he sounded enthusiastic. The paranoid part of his brain was screaming that Dick was delivering him to some shady establishment where he’d have to work for the rest of his life.

That probably wouldn’t happen.

And even if it did, Jason was sure Red Robin would rescue him.

“Here we are,” Dick said, and Jason suddenly realised that Dick had parked the car.

Jason stumbled with the catch for the seatbelt, not entirely sure what to do with it until he pressed the release button.

It wasn’t until he’d got out of the car, that he truly registered where they were.

“Wow...”

Because...wow...

What a view.

They were on the crest of a hill, facing inwards towards Gotham. Jason could see the skyscrapers and all the different areas of Gotham as if it was a 3D map laid out in front of him.

It was incredible. He’d never seen Gotham in all its glory like this before.

He could even see the container ports. Just the edge of them. The steel containers and neighbouring buildings hid his bakery from sight, but he knew the direction.

For the first time, Gotham seemed like an actual city. Rather than the backwaters dump the entire country had written off.

The sun glinted off Wayne Tower, sitting in the middle amongst the other skyscrapers like a giant beacon of hope. Jason smiled at it.

“You like?” Dick said, coming up to stand beside him. He was holding a bag and a large basket.

“Here, let me-” Jason reached forward for the basket.

“Actually, can you take this instead?” Dick said, holding up the bag. “Alfie was very particular about the basket being held at a certain angle because of the food.”

Jason didn’t know who Alfie was, but he could understand food needing to be handled with care.

“Sure,” he said, taking the bag, which upon closer inspection, seemed to be a large bundle of cloth. Must be the picnic blanket.

“Alfie’s our butler,” Dick answered the question Jason hadn’t dared ask. “He made the food.”

Jason forgot rich people had butlers. Although, he hadn’t realised that butlers cooked. Didn’t rich people usually hire cooks for that?

“Well, he’s basically family at this point,” Dick continued, walking a little down the grassy hill. He seemed to be looking for the perfect spot. Jason wasn’t sure what made a perfect spot, the entire hillside seemed perfect to him. “But officially he’s our butler.”

“Right...” Jason nodded, not entirely sure what to say.

“Is this good for you?” Dick asked, gesturing to a patch of grass that seemed exactly the same as the patches of grass next to it.

“Yeah, looks good.”

Dick stared at him expectantly.

“Oh, the blanket,” Jason started. “Er, how do I?”

“It’s velcro, pull the tab,” Dick pointed.

It also felt like it was spring loaded, given the way it immediately exploded when Jason unlatched it. Either that or someone had furled it up very tightly.

“Ack!” Jason yelped as the wind chose that moment to blow the whole blanket into his face. The thing settled around him like a large bedsheet.

Dick laughed and helped tug the picnic blanket away as Jason burned with embarrassment.

“You hold that end?” Dick said, somehow still balancing the picnic basket on his arm whilst helping Jason with the blanket.

“Yeah.”

Eventually, they got settled and things seemed back on track. Dick began rummaging around the basket, pulling out various boxes of food.

“This is really nice,” Jason said, looking around at the completely empty hillside. “I’m surprised not more people are up here.”

Maybe people didn’t know about it. Jason was pretty sure that it’d be packed otherwise.

“Oh, that’s because this is private property.”

Jason paused.

“I guess you missed the gate?” Dick said, “It was mostly covered by branches so I’m not surprised.”

Jason’s brain wasn’t quite computing.

“Hang on.” He gaped.

Dick waited patiently.

“Hang on...” Jason tried again. “Are you saying...” He looked around at the giant hillside. “Are you saying you own this hill?”

Dick laughed. “No,” he said and for a second Jason felt calmer because obviously people didn’t just own hillsides.

But then Dick continued. “Bruce owns this hill,” he smiled at Jason. “I’m just borrowing it.”

Bruce Wayne owned a hill.

Okay, this should not be that surprising. Bruce Wayne owned a lot of stuff.

But a hillside was...it was...

Jason would be able to build 50 houses if he owned this hill. Or 500 apartments. Or even just a single community building for people.

And Bruce Wayne just...owned it. For his children to have picnics.

Jason didn’t know whether to feel special or like he was trespassing.

Part of him wanted to sink into the feeling of luxury and enjoy it while he could, another part of him wanted to run away because people like him didn’t just sit in places like this.

Dick, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice Jason’s sudden existential crisis. Because he was opening the lid of the boxes.

“So, since we didn’t know what you liked to eat, Alfie made a bit of everything,” Dick said. “Everything that made sense for a picnic anyway.”

Jason forced himself to focus.

Food. Date. A very handsome man that was interested in Jason for absolutely unknown reasons.

This was not the time to be overwhelmed by the very different lives they led.

He frowned at one of the boxes. “What is that?” Jason asked, squinting at the squishy black stuff. “Seaweed?”

“Oh, no, that’s caviar.”

Jason felt himself freeze in place.

“Here, use these spoons if you want some of that,” Dick said, handing a tiny spoon over.

“Er...is that some sort of caviar etiquette?” Jason asked, eyeing the tiny spoon with its weird shine. He was working very hard not to hyperventilate because...because caviar had always been one of those things he thought he’d never be able to afford.

“Nothing like that,” Dick laughed. “I can’t remember exactly why, but using a pearl spoon is the best way to get the full taste of the caviar.”

Jason nearly dropped the spoon. “This is made of pearl?”

“Yep,” Dick said, pulling more stuff out of the basket. He hadn’t been joking when he said the butler made some of everything.

Jason was still a bit hung up on the fact that he was holding a spoon made of actual pearls. He stared at it in wonder and trepidation. Dick couldn’t seriously expect him to eat with this.

Dick must have noticed Jason’s hesitation. “Don’t worry, it’s from a sustainable source. The caviar too. All cultivated.”

“Huh?” Jason had no idea what Dick was talking about.

“Er...isn’t that why you’re hesitating? Because sturgeon and pearl mussels are both endangered?”

“Huh?” Jason repeated intelligently.

Dick gave him a chagrined smile.

“Sorry, my family’s very into sustainability and saving the planet and protecting endangered species and all that. So I sort of assumed that’s what you were worried about.”

That was definitely not the reason Jason was worried. No, Jason was worried because he was holding a spoon worth more than his life.

Although he probably shouldn’t say that. Sustainability seemed like a much better thing to be worried about. Very inline with the philanthropic nature of Dick’s life.

But it wasn’t like Jason could pretend he knew what a sturgeon was.

“Um...” More and more Jason was feeling out of place. Why on earth did Dick ask him out? He had absolutely nothing to offer him.

“Here,” Dick held open another box. “If you’re not up for caviar there’s chicken in this one. Or...” Dick looked up at him and paused. “Are you okay?”

“Yes!” Jason said. Because he had absolutely nothing to complain about. He was on a private hill with a whole assortment of food and holding a rare jewel. Whether he deserved this or not, he was here. And he had nothing to complain about. “I’m just...um...”

“Is this too much?” Dick said. And now he was the one who looked worried.

God, Jason felt like an ass. Dick had done everything right, and here he was, ruining everything just because he couldn’t handle a fucking spoon.

“No!” he hurriedly tried to reassure him. “No, it’s fine. I just- When you said picnic I was expecting soggy cucumber sandwiches.”

“There are actually cucumber sandwiches,” Dick said, reaching into what Jason was starting to think was a magic box with an endless supply of food. “I don’t think they’re soggy though.”

Jason took that chance to take a breath.

Get it together. He had known Dick was rich. This should be nothing unexpected. Stop freaking out just because Dick was so nonchalant about his wealth.

Jason forced himself to smile.

Chapter Text

The caviar had been a bad idea.

Alfred had said that might be too much for a first date.

Dick wished he listened. 

Everything was going wrong. First the flowers (because of course Jason didn’t like flowers, why didn’t Dick think of that?!) and then the car ride where Jason had clearly been getting fed up with how long it was taking to get to the hill.

And now, the stupid caviar.

Dick knew he was rusty. He’d not been on a date for years. But he didn’t think he’d be messing up this bad.

They were literally eating in complete silence. Things were beyond awkward. And Dick was desperately wracking his brain for something to say.

It had been so easy over text.

“This is good,” Jason said, which was the same thing he had said for every single box of food he had tried. Dick couldn’t tell if he genuinely meant it or whether he was saying that to be polite.

Dick couldn’t take it anymore.

At this rate, Jason was going to ghost him the moment he got home.

Dick put down his box of salmon. “Jason.” He waited until Jason put down his own box of food, and then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Jason stared at him. Maybe he thought it was too late for apologies. But Dick had to try.

“I get that I’m not doing that great. And I’m really sorry for ruining your first ever date. But can you give me another chance?” Dick stumbled over his words. They spilled out of him like an overflowing wineglass. “You don’t have to, of course, I get it if you don’t want to go through this again but-”

“Dick.” Jason was still staring. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh...um…” Dick fidgeted, toying with the cuff of his sleeve. “I mean...you’ve been uncomfortable all evening so I thought…”

“I-” Jason sighed, as if frustrated.

Dick bit his lip, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable tirade. He was sure he deserved it.

“It’s not you,” Jason sighed. Which he was probably saying to be nice. “I’m the one that should be apologising.”

What?

“You’ve put in so much effort,” Jason continued. “And here I am being an ungrateful moron.”

“What do you mean?” Dick asked, because Jason wasn’t making any sense.

“This,” Jason gestured at the hill. “And this,” he waved at the picnic blanket. “A-and...and you,” Jason took a breath. “Everything’s been perfect.”

“But…” because there must be a ‘but’ here. It was undeniable that Jason’s been nervous all evening.

“But nothing. I’m not upset, I’m…” Jason sighed. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”

Right, of course he was. “It’s too much. I’m sorry.”

“No! No it’s not too much,” Jason protested. “I mean, it shouldn’t be. It’s been great, and I think most people would be over the moon with all of this. And this is a great date.”

Dick was still hearing a ‘but’.

Jason sighed and frowned at the Gotham skyline. Then he turned to him. Dick swallowed at the intensity of his stare.

“Dick,” Jason said. Dick could hardly breathe, and he didn’t even know why. “I...I didn’t grow up with much. I lived every day with the very real knowledge that it could be my last. And even though I lucked out and things are better now, I still remember the rough nights and the fear and the struggles.”

Jason reached forward and took his hand. “So it’s not because of the food. And it’s not because of anything you did. I’m overwhelmed because...well, because I can hardly believe that I’m even sitting here.”

Jason smiled at him, “I can’t believe I get to sit here and have a picnic with you like this. With not a care in the world. So yeah, I’m overwhelmed. But that’s because there’s no place I’d rather be.”

Goodness... Dick wanted to swoon. He probably would have swooned, if he wasn’t so distracted with smiling back.

Dick squeezed Jason’s hand. Part of him wanted to surge forward and kiss the life out of Jason but that would definitely be too much. No need to overwhelm Jason even more.

“I can’t believe it either,” Dick said. Jason scoffed. “No really! I did a happy little dance every time I thought of the date today. My baby brother kept asking me if I’d pulled a muscle.”

Jason laughed. “You looked forward to it that much?”

“Is it so strange to want to spend time with people you like?” Dick said. He felt a stab of pain the moment he said it. He’d not been able to spend much time with the people he liked these days. Maybe he should work on that.

“No, I suppose not,” Jason agreed, breaking Dick out of his thoughts.

Dick turned to the boxes of food. “Here, you should try this one next,” he said as he tried to ignore the pangs in his chest at the realisation of how isolated he had been until now.

Chapter Text

Humans could get used to anything.

Jason used to say that to himself, as he crawled into the crevices of abandoned buildings to hide. He used to say that to himself as the workload of the bakery course hit him like a freight train.

He never thought he’d be saying that to himself right now. As Dick Grayson drove him home after the loveliest date on a private hill eating lobsters and caviar and a whole bunch of other things that Jason couldn’t even remember the name of.

It had been a rough start. Jason had nearly ruined it all with his nerves. But Dick was great. He listened, he smiled, he held Jason’s hands as the wind gently ruffled that perfect hair.

It was like a dream. An incredible, improbable, and unbelievable dream.

Except at some point, that dream started seeping in with reality. And then everything began to feel real and surreal. At the same time.

Jason didn’t know how to describe it. He stared out of the window, watching trees zip by in a blur. 

He was calm. 

I’m already getting used to this.

It didn’t seem crazy or wild or bizarre anymore. Like that time he’d turned off his ovens, two months after accepting customers at his bakery, and realised that he had gotten used to life as a baker.

Or that time he began making coffee for Red Robin before Red Robin had even showed up, and realised a vigilante visiting his shop was just a regular work day now.

It’d been less than two hours since Dick picked him up.

This was a quick adjustment even by his standards.

Maybe it was because Dick was so understanding and comforting and just all-round perfect. But the ease with which Jason settled into being pampered was surprising.

He felt a bit like a starving man being allowed to eat for the first time.

Which was strange. Because it’s not like he’d been suffering nor in pain prior to meeting Dick.

I had fun, Jason realised. He had fun in a different way to reading a book or arguing about the value of fiction with Red Robin.

He had fun. Just being with Dick Grayson.

Dick seemed like he had fun too. They had laughed and joked most of the date. And every now and then, Dick would just turn to him and give him the biggest smile.

It made the butterflies in Jason’s stomach flutter into a frenzy.

They passed by the bridge. Jason watched the pedestrian walk along the sides, feeling a whole new sense of disconnect. He was in the middle of the road for once, peering out of a car windscreen, instead of walking along the pavements where he usually resided.

All those times he’d looked through the windows of cars passing him by. And now he was on the other side.

He didn’t know how to describe that feeling of...skewed. Like his world was off-kilter, but not in a bad way. All those years of staring enviously at the shiny cars that sped by. And now he was in one.

Dick turned into Jason’s road and slowed to a stop.

He smiled.

“I had a really good time,” Dick said.

“Me too,” Jason replied robotically. He winced as his nerves made a forceful comeback.

Dick didn’t seem to notice. Dick was shifting shyly in his seat. “Can I...” he hesitated. “Can I see you again?”

Jason felt warmth flood upwards, overflowing out of his head.

“I’d like that,” Jason smiled.

To be honest, what Jason would really like was to stay with Dick for the rest of the night. And the whole of tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.

He just wanted more time with this wonderful man.

But he had work. There was bread to bake and cakes to distribute.

As much as he felt the strange impulsive urge to throw that all away just to spend one more second with Dick Grayson, he knew he would never give up his livelihood nor his financial security like that. Not even to prolong this bubbling sense of happiness within him.

But once work was done, Jason would be free. Was it too needy to suggest tomorrow?

Dick didn’t seem to think so, because he said, “Are you free tomorrow?”

Jason’s smile widened. “Yeah, I’m free tomorrow.”

Dick beamed at him. Jason felt his lungs seize up at the sight.

“Pick you up at the same time?”

“Sounds good.” Jason managed to squeak out.

They sat there for a moment until Jason realised that this was his cue to exit the car. He hurriedly unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.

“Don’t I get a goodnight kiss?” Dick said playfully.

Jason scoffed. “This is the first date.”

Dick gave him an exaggerated pout. Jason laughed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a goodnight, Jason.”

“You too.” Jason swung the door shut.

Dick waited as Jason walked up to his front door. He didn't drive off until Jason entered his flat and closed the door behind him. Jason knew because he immediately checked through the peephole.

He was giddy all night.

Could barely focus as he got ready for bed.

He desperately wanted to shout about how wonderful his night went, but there was no one to shout to.

He almost texted Dick just so he could let out some of the adrenaline. But gushing to your date about how wonderful the date went was probably a bit weird.

Red will be around tomorrow, Jason reminded himself as he rolled over in bed for the umpteenth time. You can tell him all about it tomorrow.

It was with that thought in mind that Jason finally, finally, managed to fall asleep.

---

“You look terrible,” were the first words Red said to him.

Jason grumbled. “I didn’t sleep much.” He had woken up to his alarm with the darkest shadows under his eyes.

“Date go that bad?”

“Date went too well actually,” Jason said. The thought of the date helped lift his mood somewhat, breaking through the exhaustion like sun rays on a cloudy day. “It went so great that I couldn’t sleep afterwards.”

Red Robin snorted. “You’re such a dork.”

“At least I’m a happy dork,” Jason said. And it really spoke volumes of his tiredness that he couldn’t even come up with a proper retort.

Red, being the vindictive brat that he was, obviously did not let it go. “That was pathetic.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jason said, just as he yawned. “I’m tired okay.”

“I can tell. What did you even do?”

“We went on a picnic,” Jason smiled down at the dough. “I got to eat caviar.”

Red wrinkled his nose. “Who the hell brings caviar to a picnic?”

The fact that Jason got to eat caviar didn’t even phase him. Must be nice to be a spoiled rich kid with cash to burn.

Then again, most of Red Robin’s family and friends were dead, so maybe not so nice.

“A guy who wanted to impress me, apparently.”

“If he wanted to impress you, he could have just taken you to a fancy restaurant.”

That was true. But Jason wasn’t sure he’d have managed to calm down at a fancy restaurant.

Besides, a private hill was way more impressive than even the most expensive restaurant.

He didn’t tell Red any of this. He wasn’t sure he wanted Red to know who he was dating. And not just because Red Robin had seemed so keen about doing a background check.

After all, Dick Grayson was beyond famous. Red had been supportive enough so far, but Jason was sure even he’d change his tune if he ever found out that Jason was dating someone so far out of his league.

In fact, were he and Dick even dating? They’d only been on one date.

“Did you kiss at least?” Red asked. “Personally, I think picnic dates are only worth it when there’s making out involved.”

“What? No!” Jason laughed. “It was only our first date.”

Red cocked his head to the side, as if confused. “I’ve always kissed my partners on the first date.”

Jason paused. Heavy dread coiling up in his stomach. “Really?”

“Yep! First date is the kiss. Second date is making out. Third date is sex.”

“But I barely know the guy,” Jason spluttered. He really hoped he hadn’t messed it all up. Dick hadn’t seemed that upset by the rejection, but maybe he was putting on a front.

Maybe he won’t show up tonight. All because Jason refused to kiss him.

“Hm, I have only ever dated my friends,” Red admitted. “I suppose that changes things.”

Right, there was hope.

“Then again, my brother usually has sex on the first date,” Red continued, dashing Jason’s hopes in one fell swoop. “But he moves fast, so probably an outlier.”

Jason did not need to know that Batman had sex. Or even that he dated.

Besides, who cared about Batman. Jason was more worried about what Dick was thinking.

“He asked for a kiss as well,” Jason groaned. “He must think I’m a prude now.”

“Not necessarily,” Red said. “Did he seem surprised when you said no?”

“Um...I don’t think so? I can’t really remember.”

“Well why don’t you ask him out for a second date and see how he reacts?”

“Oh...” Jason felt himself blush. “Actually, we’ve already arranged a second date.”

“Oooh, when?”

“Er...tonight.”

Red did a double take.

“Tonight as in...as in tonight? Saturday? Tonight?” Red asked, disbelieving.

“Yeah?”

“Wow, that’s fast.”

“I know,” Jason agreed. “But the date went really well!”

He felt weirdly defensive, as if afraid Red would disagree with him. Or tell Jason he was being overly optimistic to think the date went well.

Red Robin did nothing of the sort.

“I definitely don’t think he cares that you didn’t kiss him if he’s asked to see you tonight.”

“Well, he asked for the kiss after asking for the date. So...”

“So you’re scared he won’t show up?”

“Not scared,” Jason protested. Red didn’t seem to believe him so Jason insisted, “I’m not scared. I’m just er, concerned.”

“Right, you’re ‘concerned’ he won’t show up.” He even does the little air quotes around ‘concerned’.

Jason rolled his eyes. Then he sighed. “A bit,” he admitted.

“But if he doesn’t show up, won’t that be a good thing in a way?” Red said, rather matter-of-factly. “I mean, if he’s the type of asshole that don’t show up on a date just because you didn’t kiss him, then good riddance to be honest.”

That was a good point. But the date went so well, Jason loathed to think he ruined everything just because he refused something as innocuous as a kiss.

He groaned. Why was he so bad at this?

“I should have just kissed him,” he lamented. It would have solved everything.

“No point in doing things you’re not comfortable with just to be with someone,” Red shrugged. “Defeats the whole purpose of being in a relationship.”

That was...a good point too.

“You’re worrying too much,” Red Robin said. “I know this might sound strange coming from me, but sometimes you’ve got to go with the flow. Just do what feels right.”

Jason wasn’t sure he could tell the difference between what felt right and what felt wrong, but Red was probably accurate that he was worrying too much. Jason didn’t even worry this much when he set up his bakery.

“Enough about me,” Jason said, “What’s new with you?”

“I solved that cold murder case!” Red said, excitedly. “The police couldn’t figure it out because they didn’t think to link the embezzlement with the engravings under the desk, but it’s really obvious when you take a step back and consider the bigger picture.”

Jason smiled. Red Robin had clearly been dying to share his success, and even though Jason had no idea what he was talking about - especially when he started getting into the specificities of blood splatters - he always welcomed these moments where Red exuded genuine joy.

“That’s really impressive,” Jason said.

Red beamed at him. Like Jason’s praise meant the world to him.

If Jason didn’t have a schedule to keep, he would have pulled the kid into a tight hug right then and there.

Chapter Text

Tim was in a great mood as he parked his car in the Batcave garage. He felt accomplished. And - dare he say it - important!

The whole night was a win. From cracking that murder case to helping Jason realise that the date probably did not go as bad as he thought to rescuing that random kitten on the way home. It was as if life was finally giving him a break.

He immediately decided to reassess that statement when he saw Dick on the mats.

“Hey!” Dick beamed at him. Like the way he always used to when he came home from school.

Tim hesitated. “You were working on a case with Barbara again?” he asked cautiously.

“No,” Dick said. And for a moment, the tiny part of Tim that was still optimistic about Dick caring about him hoped that Dick was purposely waiting up for him. “I was updating the Justice League reports.”

Tim’s heart clenched in disappointment. Then he berated himself for having such a stupid reaction. Obviously Dick did not wait up for him. Dick didn’t do things like that anymore. He should stop expecting otherwise.

“Well, I could have done those in the morning,” Dick admitted. “But since I didn’t know what time you’d be back, I figured I should do something useful while I wait.”

“Huh?” Tim was not entirely sure he was following. What?

“I was waiting for you,” Dick replied. “It’s been a while since we’ve spent some quality time together, you know? And don’t think I’ve missed that you’re skipping out on your cool downs lately. You need to do some deep stretches or you’re going to injure yourself.”

Tim didn’t know what to feel. His excitement and happiness that Dick was finally making time for him fought with the still-bottomless anger he felt from Dick replacing him with Damian. 

Not to mention that ridiculous lecture about Jason.

Then again, Dick hadn’t bothered him about Jason since that night. He hadn’t followed Tim to the bakery either. So maybe what Tim said back then had actually got through to him.

He hesitated, standing at the edge of the training mats.

Dick noticed his hesitation and looked down at the mats.

“Tim...” he sighed to himself. “I know I’ve not been the best brother lately. You’re so good at taking care of yourself that I sometimes forget to check up on you. But that’s not right.”

Unadulterated fury roared in Tim’s chest at how Dick was blatantly ignoring what they had argued about in the first place. He had to forcibly stop his hands from clenching into fists.

The silence hung between them like a smothering blanket.

“...if you’re busy,” Dick trailed off, clearly disappointed.

“I’m not busy,” Tim said immediately, ignoring the indignant screech of his inner pride and stepping onto the mats.

Because as angry as he feels, it was undeniable that he missed Dick. Besides, their line of work was dangerous. Who knew when Dick would remember to set aside time for him again. No way was he wasting this chance.

Especially not for something as frivolous as his own emotions.

If Dick wanted to pretend nothing was wrong, pretend he hadn’t ripped Tim’s heart out during the most vulnerable moment in his life, then Tim was going to pretend with him.

“You’re right,” he said as he sat down. “I shouldn’t ignore my cool down stretches so often.”

Dick beamed at him.

Tim tried to smile back. He reminded himself that his family could die at any point. Reminded himself that he didn’t want his last conversations with the important people in his life to be an argument.

But despite repeatedly telling himself that he was okay with this. That he could go back to how it used to be, his emotions roiled within him. His throat clenched up and his shoulders tensed.

Get with the program, Tim berated himself. But nothing he did could push his feelings aside.

The only saving grace was that Dick didn’t seem to notice at all. And that brought about a fresh kind of pain. Dick had always been the observant one when it came to their little family. In a way even Alfred never managed to be. The sense of loss that Dick didn’t really know him anymore was...immeasurable.

Maybe he could try fixing that. Dick had held out an olive branch, Tim could do the same.

“I don’t have any business socials tonight,” Tim said, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. “It’s been a while since we ate together, want to grab dinner somewhere?”

Dick entire posture tightened. “Oh, er, I can’t.” He winced and avoided Tim’s eyes. “I have plans.”

Tim’s shoulders drooped. Dick was purposely avoiding the details about those plans, as if Tim didn’t know the only person Dick ever made off-duty plans with these days was Damian.

He was getting real sick of being pushed aside for that murdering hellspawn.

“Another time?” Dick offered tentatively.

“Sure, whatever,” Tim said. He suddenly didn’t want to be in the room anymore. “I’ll see you later,” he said, rushing towards the elevators.

It wasn’t until he was halfway up the tower that he realised he was still wearing his suit. Not ideal, but maybe he could sneak past Alfred.

All thoughts of sneaking past Alfred flew out of his head when he entered the kitchen.

Damian was sitting at the kitchen island, a bowl of noodles and a cup of sweet tea in front of him.

Tim paused in the doorway. His heart rate ratcheted up almost immediately without any input from him and he feels a flood of shame for being so easily affected.

Damian, for his part, stopped eating and narrowed his eyes at him. As if Tim was the dangerous one here.

“You are back later than usual,” Damian said.

Tim was so surprised - that Damian was speaking to him, that Damian wasn’t threatening to maim him, that Damian apparently knew when he got home every night - that he just stood there, blinking at the tiny kid perched on the tall kitchen stool.

“Yeah, I was-” Tim cut himself off before he gave a report of where he’d been, as was habit when someone asked after his whereabouts in this family. He realised with a start that no one had asked after his whereabouts for a long time.

Damian didn’t seem to care either way. He turned back to his food.

Tim was about to walk past him when Damian spoke up.

“There are noodles on the counter. Soup is in the pot.”

“I already ate,” Tim said automatically.

Damian scowled. Tim tensed up, preparing himself for a fight, but Damian didn’t so much as look his way.

Was he...not going to scream and charge at Tim with a sword?

Tim stood there, scrutinising the angry murderer sitting there innocently eating noodles, as his brain whirled with this unusual development.

He glanced at the counter, where there was indeed a pile of fresh noodles ready to be cooked. Then he stared.

“Did you make those from scratch?” Since when did Damian know how to cook.

Damian sat up a bit straighter. “Don’t be so surprised, Drake. I have many skills.” If Tim didn’t know any better, he’d think that Damian was pleased at Tim’s observation.

“You’re 10!”

“I’m 13,” Damian snarled.

Tim stared at Damian. That couldn’t be right. Dick always treated Damian like he was a porcelain doll that could shatter at any moment. No way Damian was a teenager already.

“If you don’t want to eat then just go,” Damian turned back to his food. The lines of his back curled, as if he was ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

Tim edged around him carefully. But Damian didn’t attack. It was almost as if he was pouting.

Weird.

It wasn’t until Tim was on the other side of the room that he realised he should probably say something. Bizarre behaviour from Damian aside, he’d spent enough time around Jason and Alfred to know that cooks really valued people eating their food.

“They look impressive. Maybe I can try them next time?” he offered, hesitantly.

Damian perked up. “Okay!” he said and...was that a smile?!

He had never seen Damian smile at anyone. The closest he had ever seen was an arrogant and self-assured smirk. But Damian was definitely smiling now. Creepy.

Tim nodded back, awkwardly. And then he hightailed it out of there before Damian could try to stab him for no reason.

Chapter Text

Jason prodded the bags under his eyes, trying to will them away through pure determination alone.

Red had offered to get him some makeup. Apparently Red regularly wore makeup in his civilian guise to hide all his bruises and to prevent people from linking his civilian identity with his vigilante one.

Jason had been both impressed at the lengths he went through to protect his identity, and weirded out that he was happily sharing all of this with Jason.

Honestly, if Jason was secretly a spy. Or worse, a bonafide supervillain, then Red would be in serious trouble.

It was a good thing that Jason was neither.

Jason poked at the saggy skin under his eyes again. He’d said no to the makeup, telling Red Robin that he had no idea how to use it anyway.

Red had proceeded to tease him about his fragile masculinity.

And as much as Jason hated to admit it, there was probably some truth to that. Because he was kicking himself for his decision now. The bags had only gotten worse throughout the day and...

And Jason was ugly enough next to Dick Grayson’s perfect face.

Maybe he could wear a hat. That’d help hide his eyes.

No, that’d be weird.

Plus, he didn’t own a hat.

He supposed he could wear his bike helmet. But that’d be even weirder.

The doorbell rang. Jason nearly jumped right out of his skin.

Calm down, it’ll be fine.

He took a breath and did not calm down at all.

You don’t even know if it’s Dick. Remember how you didn’t kiss him? He might not show up.

But who else would it be. No one ever rang Jason’s doorbell. Not even sales representatives.

He opened the door.

Dick beamed at him from the other side.

“You showed up,” Jason said, slightly bewildered.

Dick gave him an amused smile. “Yes? I don’t tend to arrange dates that I don’t plan on going to.”

“Oh,” Jason tried very hard to stop gaping like a fish. “That’s er, that’s good.”

“I brought beer,” Dick held up a six pack. “I figured it’d be a better gift tha-”

Jason didn’t hear the rest of it. Because right at that moment, his eyes landed on the very familiar brand of beer.

His father’s favourite.

His breath hitched. The world blurred, shifting in and out of focus as memories clambered over each other for his attention.

“Are you okay?” A hand landed on his shoulder.

Jason flinched.

The hand immediately let go.

“Sorry,” Jason said, dragging his focus up from the depths, and stared into Dick’s worried eyes. “Sorry, I’m just...um, tired.”

Really tired. It’s not like this was the first time Jason had seen his father’s favourite beer without warning. The brand was common enough that cans of the stuff were regularly littered across the streets. And he’d walked past plenty of billboards advertising it.

He didn’t usually react like this.

Why was today any different? What the hell was wrong with him?

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” Jason added, feeling the strange urge to explain.

Dick nodded slowly.

“We can always,” Dick paused, “we can always reschedule if you need it.”

“No!” Jason clutched at Dick’s arm. A sudden fear that if Dick left now, he was never going to come back. “No, I’m fine.”

“Jay...”

“Really, I’m fine,” Jason insisted, walking past Dick and towards the car. “Like I said, I just didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Oh yeah?” Dick’s grin turned cheeky, “dreaming of me by any chance?”

Jason chuckled. “Maybe,” Jason teased, getting into the car as Dick laughed.

He pretended not to notice Dick surreptitiously tucking the beer cans into the back of the car, out of sight.

---

There was a waterfall in Gotham. An actual waterfall. In Gotham.

Jason stared at it.

It was a small waterfall. Nothing like the raging torrents he’d seen in videos, but it was plenty impressive on its own.

“I can’t believe there’s a waterfall in Gotham and I never knew,” he murmured.

“Most people don’t. This whole area is part of Bruce’s estate.”

Bruce Wayne was far too rich. How could anyone be this rich? It boggled his mind.

“I can’t believe your family owns a waterfall.”

Dick shrugged. “You get used to it. Come on, this way.” He was carrying a small rucksack, which held their food. The plan was to hike up the side to reach the main waterfall up above the cliff.

Cliffsides were more slippery than Jason thought they’d be. He’d only ever lived in the city his entire life and he wasn’t quite used to the way the grass slid out from under him every two seconds.

“It’s easier if you step on the rocks,” Dick said.

Jason tried that, but his foot slipped right off.

“Not the wet ones,” Dick clarified. “Make sure you step on the dry rocks.”

“How the hell can you tell the difference?” Jason said.

“They just...look different.”

Jason was fairly certain Dick had stepped on the exact same rock Jason had reached for a second ago. Except Dick, with his apparently inhuman sense of balance, did not slip like Jason did.

“Climbing up a drainpipe in the rain is easier than this,” Jason grumbled.

Dick laughed. “No it’s not.”

“How would you know?” Because Jason had climbed up drain pipes in the rain plenty of times as a kid. And it was definitely easier than trying to navigate this minefield of mother nature.

“You’re not used to this, that’s all,” Dick replied lightly. “Mr city boy.”

“You say that as if you don’t live in a mansion.”

“I live in a penthouse on top of a skyscraper, actually.”

“So much nature.”

“Sure there is, there are clouds. And the sky. And all the wind.”

Jason scoffed, shaking his head as he picked his way up the hill.

“We’re nearly there,” Dick said. “Just a few more steps.”

“You better not be saying that to trick m-” Jason swore as he lost his balance. He could feel gravity clawing at his centre, pushing him towards an extremely painful tumble down the hill.

A hand grabbed his wrist, and then he was being pulled forward, until he was pressed against a warm chest, strong arms wrapping around his back.

“Are you okay?” Dick said, concern swimming in his eyes.

Dick’s face was very close.

Dick’s lips were very close.

“Um...yeah...I...” Jason wondered if this was the point he was supposed to kiss Dick Grayson. Surely this situation was romantic enough to call for a kiss. Jason nearly dies, Dick rescues him at the last minute. Their adrenaline pumping.

Was there a better time than now to kiss him?

Except, Jason didn’t really want to. His adrenaline was pumping a bit too much, and Dick’s arms around him were very tight. Not to mention he still couldn’t feel the floor.

He still...couldn’t feel the floor...

Jason looked down.

“Woah, are you carrying me?!” He exclaimed. Jason was a pretty heavy person. “How strong are you?”

Dick laughed.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. I’m an acrobat.”

Apparently Dick needed to prove that with a demonstration. He casually ambled up the rest of the cliff, as if he was simply taking a stroll through the park. All whilst carrying Jason.

When he reached the top, he gently settled Jason on the ground.

And then he stood there, right in Jason’s personal space.

Maybe he wanted a reward. Maybe he was annoyed that Jason didn’t kiss him earlier during that perfectly romantic moment and was giving Jason a chance to make it right.

Jason didn’t know.

Red had emphasised doing things when it felt right.

But Jason had no idea what ‘right’ was supposed to feel like.

It’s just a kiss, Jason. It’s not a big deal. Get it over with.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jason?” Dick asked.

“If you’re going to kiss me, I’d rather you get it over with,” Jason said without thinking. Which was...not romantic at all. Damn it.

“Oh, I wasn’t actually...” Dick trailed off. He let go of Jason’s waist and stepped back.

Jason dared to open one eye.

Dick was giving him this very thoughtful frown. “Are you asexual?”

“Ace-what now?”

“Asexual. You know, don’t have any desire for sex. Well, I heard it was more complicated than that, but I think that’s the gist of it.”

Jason was pretty sure he’d had way too many sex dreams about Dick for him to be asexual. Not that he’d ever heard of the term before, so maybe he was missing something.

“I...don’t think so?” he said. “I don’t really know what that is.”

“Hm, so, just nerves then?” Dick said. “You’ve never been intimate with anyone right?”

“Er, yeah. I mean,” Jason shrugged. “I guess I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing in that department. Or when I’m supposed to be doing it.”

“Well, my motto is to always do what feels right,” Dick said. And it was so similar to what Red had said to him this morning that Jason had to blink.

If things worked out with Dick Grayson, Jason would have to introduce them to each other. He was sure they’d get on like a house on fire.

Then again, it was probably safer for Dick if he didn’t know Jason had regular contact with a vigilante.

“And if you need time, then you should take that time,” Dick continued, oblivious to Jason’s inner musings. “We’ve only just started dating. There’s no rush.”

Jason shrugged awkwardly, looking away. “I heard some people have sex on their first date.”

“Well...yeah. But that doesn’t mean you have to.”

“I don’t want to make you wait. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Jay...” Dick held his hands and stepped closer. “If I wanted to sleep with someone, there are plenty of people out there who’d be up for a one-night stand. I’m here because I like you . I’m here because I want to spend time with you .”

Jason’s breath hitched. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. But at the same time it was like all his fears and insecurities were melting away. Melting in the face of Dick Grayson’s warmth and kindness and understanding.

It was incredible...

It was unbelievable...

It was...unrealistic.

---

It was too unrealistic.

People like Dick Grayson simply did not exist.

No one was that perfect. No one.

Not to mention, their relationship was going very very fast.

The rest of the waterfall date had been like a dream. And it was absolutely surreal to the point of suspicion that Jason had two amazing dates in a row.

Maybe he was being paranoid. Red often said he was too distrustful of the world.

Then again, Red was the one who offered to do a background check on the guy.

Jason was starting to think it might be a good idea to take him up on the offer.

He was just mulling over how best to bring up the subject, and whether there was an ethical way to approach the whole thing, when Red Robin knocked on the door.

“Morning,” Jason said as Red let himself in.

“Hey,” Red Robin said with a world-weary sigh. Jason knew something was wrong before he even finished his greeting.

“What happened?” Jason asked.

“Nothing,” Red answered, voice clipped. No. Not clipped, dazed.

And also annoyed. And conflicted.

Okay, there were a lot of emotions there. Jason wondered who was responsible. It had better not be Batman.

After a few moments of silence in which Red poked at his wrist computer and Jason kept working, Red sighed again.

“I met my ex-girlfriend today,” Red Robin said.

Okay, no wonder he was in a mood.

“She was showing off her new boyfriend?” Jason asked.

Red shook his head.

“She was begging you to take her back,” Jason ventured.

That got a slight smile from Red. “No.”

“She was begging you to beg her to take you back.”

A slightly bigger smile. They were making progress. Jason inwardly cheered.

But then the smile dropped. “No...” Red Robin looked down at his shoes, falling quiet.

Jason kept cutting and shaping dough.

“We mostly bumped into each other by accident.”

“Ah, awkward small talk.” Jason's had many of those when bumping into one of his regulars at the market.

“Well...sort of,” Red Robin said. He was edging his way around something. Jason wished he’d just spit it out.

“What happened then?”

Red Robin pressed his lips together. The way he did when he was angry but didn’t want to be.

“Turns out she faked her own death.”

Jason paused, his dough knife paused in the air with him. Did he hear that right?

“She...faked her own death.”

“Yep.”

Jason put down the knife, gave Red Robin a considering look.

“Without telling you.”

“Yep.”

“...While you were still dating?”

“Yep.”

Damn. That was beyond awkward.

Now, Jason did not know this lady. He had no understanding of her circumstances. Why she felt compelled to fake her own death. He had no idea whether it was a superhero running away from her duties or if she made a difficult but necessary move to protect her family or whether it was some other reason.

Either way...

“That wasn’t very nice of her.”

Red Robin snorted. “Understatement of the century.”

“Did you find out why?”

Red Robin sighed. A heavy thing, as if the entire world was trapped inside his lungs. “To be fair to her, it wasn’t actually her idea. She just went along with it.”

“Still not very nice of her.”

Red smiled. Then sobered up. “She was actually...very near death. There was,” Red Robin paused. Swallowed. “Batman, he...he didn’t communicate something he should have. And, well, she paid the price.”

Okay, Jason officially hated Batman.

“The doctor that patched her up. She told him that she wasn’t going to treat her injuries. Apparently it was to teach him that childre- er - teenagers-”

“You’re definitely a kid,” Jason said. Red Robin scowled at him.

“It was to teach him that teenagers were not ‘expendable pawns’ for him to use.”

Okay, Jason also officially hated Batman’s doctor. What the hell? Hypocrite much?

"Except of course she did patch her up. Then she sent her out of the country on an internship programme.”

Hm, a paid-for internship programme in another country was pretty good compensation. Maybe the doctor wasn’t quite so bad.

“And now she’s back?”

“And now she’s back.”

“Without telling you.”

“Without telling me.”

Jason nodded slowly. This ex-girlfriend was pretty rude. But he could definitely understand not wanting to have anything to do with Batman. That guy was an ass.

“I get why she...why she couldn’t contact me. It was a risk, couldn’t risk me telling Batman,” Red Robin said. “But, I’m still angry.”

“You can understand why she did what she did and still be angry she hurt you, Red.” Jason said, not even looking up. This was so familiar. How many times had he had this conversation with Sasha. Her dad was a real piece of work.

“I know,” Red Robin said. “I know but...”

“Batman’s an ass for letting that happen. And honestly, it doesn’t look like he’s learnt his lesson.”

“Oh!” Red Robin startled, as if surprised.

“What?”

“No. Nothing,” Red Robin shook his head.

That was definitely not a ‘nothing’. But Jason had no interest in prying into the vigilante life. The less he knew the better.

Neither spoke while Jason worked. Before long, he had moved on to forming the bread rolls.

“You know...my best friend...” Red Robin suddenly spoke up, then just as quickly, he trailed off.

“Yeah?” Jason said. He nearly said ‘the one who died?’ but thankfully caught himself just in time. So many of the people Red Robin cared about had died.

“He...when he died...” Red Robin took a breath. “He’s a clone you know. Of Superman.”

“Superman has a clone?”

“Had,” Red corrected him. Jason barely caught his own wince. “And yes, he did. It’s pretty much public knowledge. Lex Luthor made him.”

Jason frowned. He didn’t know much about Metropolis, but didn’t Lex Luthor hate Superman? Why would he clone him?

“Well...anyway. When he...” Red coughed, probably to hide that hitch in his voice. “When he died. I... I looked into how to clone him again.”

Jason wasn’t sure a new clone of Superman would have been the same person as the first clone of Superman, but Red probably already knew that.

“Did you succeed?”

“No,” Red Robin said sullenly.

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah...”

Silence.

“It’s just...” Red Robin sniffed. Jason was pretty sure that was a sob. “I wish he faked his own death.”

Jason hesitated. But decided to say what he felt needed to be said. Acceptance was an important part of moving on. “Was he someone who would have told you if he was planning on faking his own death?”

“Yeah...” Red said. “But then, so was my ex.”

Jason gnawed at his lip as he thought of what to say.

“I kept thinking about it you know,” Red said, heedless of the internal battle within Jason’s mind. “I kept thinking, why couldn’t that be him? Why couldn’t he have faked his own death too?”

‘Too.’ So Red didn’t wish his ex died instead. That was good. Then again, Red Robin was a superhero. Good was probably his middle name.

“But I know he’s not the type to do that. And I was...”

Red bit his lip. Jason pretended not to notice. He didn’t stop working, going through his usual motions methodologically as he waited for the vigilante to continue. Clearly Red Robin needed to say all this.

God, the kid needed therapy. At this rate, the next time someone died, Red Robin was just going to completely explode. Or implode. No amount of venting to Jason was going to be enough.

Not for the first time, Jason wondered what the hell Batman was doing to this kid. Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he tell that Red Robin was struggling? 

Why wasn’t Batman helping?

Didn’t he care?

Or did Batman only need Red Robin to be his little worker bee? To help out with investigations and supervillains and discarded as soon as he was no longer useful.

Jason looked on as Red continued to struggle to express his grief.

This was no time to be asking him to do a background check, Jason decided.

It was fine. Jason could deal with Dick Grayson.

Now if only he could deal with Batman too.

Chapter Text

Jason tried his best to keep his temper.

“I reserved it,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I was next on the waiting list, how could it get borrowed by someone else?”

The person behind the desk shrugged, completely uncaring of Jason’s plight. And maybe it wasn’t a big deal to this guy, and maybe it was just a library book. But for goodness’s sake, he’d been waiting for 6 months.

“If you want to read the book that much, why don’t you just buy it,” the guy behind the desk gave Jason a once-over, those judgemental eyes roaming up and down his clothes. “You can obviously afford it.”

Jason shifted uncomfortably, the expensive jacket Red Robin bought him suddenly feeling like an unwelcome burn mark.

“Libraries are for people who are needy.”

And Jason was not going to punch the guy’s face in. He was not.

He was at a different library today. Usually he would bike to Gotham Central on his day off. But Dick invited him out on a date, so when he received a notification that his reserved book was ready, he asked for it to be sent to the library within walking distance instead.

And since he was about to go on a date, he was wearing the very expensive, date-appropriate clothes that Red Robin had bought him.

He didn’t really look like someone who lived in the local area. Maybe it’s not so surprising that the librarians here were distrustful of him.

That didn’t mean he had to like the disdainful look he was getting from this uppity asshole.

As if Jason was some two-bit drug dealer being a cheapskate for not buying his own books.

The guy behind the desk was wearing a designer watch too. And was clearly not from the area himself. Given the ‘volunteer’ badge on his chest, this librarian gig was probably some sort of attempt at altruism on his part.

Jason was debating about whether to call him out on his misguided saviour complex when his phone rang with a text.

“Please make sure your phone is on silent mode in the library,” the guy behind the desk said.

Jason gave him an unimpressed scowl, but turned to the door anyway. He was done here.

“I’m in the car park,” Dick’s text said. It was followed by an inane trail of emojis.

Jason shook his head ruefully.

“You know, I don’t know what half your emojis mean,” Jason said, as he opened the door to Dick’s car.

“They’re faces,” Dick supplied unhelpfully. “They mean what their faces say.”

“Are you saying you pulled every single one of these faces when you parked your car?” Jason asked, waving the phone in his direction.

“Parking is tough,” Dick said mock-solemnly.

Jason laughed.

“Maybe you should try using some in your texts now and then,” Dick challenged. “I’d quite like to know what expressions you’re making when you text me.”

Jason didn’t think there were any images that could fully summarise the cacophony of emotions he felt whenever he texted Dick. He scrolled through his options and sent Dick the most expressionless face he could find.

“Now that’s just mean,” Dick said when he checked his phone.

“It’s my honest feelings,” Jason deadpanned.

“Uh huh.”

“Where are we headed today?” Jason asked as Dick pulled out of the car park.

“Well, I was thinking that since you like books so much, I could show you my family’s library.”

Jason perked up. “Your family has a library?”

“Yep, at the Manor,” Dick said. “I wasn’t expecting to pick you up at a library though, we can go somewhere else if you’ve had your fill of libraries for the day.”

Jason would probably never have his fill of libraries, but that was kind of silly to admit, so he just said, as earnestly as he could, “No, I’d be really interested.”

“Great.”

---

There was a first edition Pride and Prejudice in the Wayne library. Jason stared at it in awe, reading the antique printing on the first few pages.

“You like Austen?” Dick asked, intrigued.

“Not particularly,” Jason admitted, even though he felt like he should like Jane Austen’s work given how much of an icon she was of her time. “But I have a soft spot for this book. It’s one of the few fiction books that was always available in libraries when I was growing up.”

Homeless kids couldn’t apply for a library card, and Jason’s parents never got him one before the homelessness. So Jason would read as much as he could during the library opening hours, during those rare times he wasn’t looking for food or water or safer shelter.

He couldn’t spend the whole day at a library either, since the librarians would have called social services if they saw a kid staying there during school hours. He’d have to read a chapter or two and then leave to avoid arousing suspicion.

Given that the Gotham libraries were one of the few functional public services available to its citizens, the book turnover was high. People regularly borrowed books, people regularly stole them too, it was tough finding one that Jason could reliably read at every library.

Pride and Prejudice had been the first Jason had stumbled across.

So while he wasn’t exactly a huge fan of Austen, he felt a great sense of nostalgia whenever he laid eyes on Pride and Prejudice.

And now he was holding a first edition of the book. He couldn’t quite believe it.

“You can keep that if you want,” Dick nodded to the book. “Alfred’s the only one who uses this library and he only reads Shakespeare.”

“There is no way I can take this with me,” Jason said, hurriedly, but carefully, putting the book back in its spot on the shelf. “It needs to stay here, where it’s safe.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “I’m sure your flat is perfectly safe.”

“My flat sits between mafia territory and more mafia territory,” Jason said. “And Penguin.”

“Penguin?”

“Yeah, he owns the fishmarket. Everybody knows that.”

“He-” Dick cut himself off, so Jason guessed maybe Dick didn’t know that.

Which made sense. Why would Dick ever have a need to pay attention to the less savoury parts of Gotham.

Oh gosh, Jason hoped he hadn’t scared Dick off.

“It’s no big deal,” Jason shrugged. “People pay Penguin a cut of their profits and they’re protected from the other Families. We all continue with our lives. It’s pretty peaceful all things considered.”

“Jay...”

“It’s nothing that the gangsters don’t already do,” Jason added.

Dick stared hard at him for a moment, and Jason squirmed under his gaze.

“Do you pay a cut?” Dick asked.

Jason barked a laugh.

“Ha, as if I would be so lucky.” He shook his head. “Nah, my bakery is too close to the container ports. That’s supposed to be neutral territory. Or neutral mafia territory, or something. Not that I know any details. I work hard to stay away from crime, Dick.”

“Can you even stay away from crime when you live so close to it?” Dick was frowning at the ground now. Jason had no idea what was going through his head.

“Worked for me so far,” Jason said. “The trick is to be a small enough fish that they don’t give a damn about you. No one cares about me selling bread. Or my neighbour selling fish bait. Or the convenience store.”

Jason didn’t think anyone cared about them anyway. He had certainly never been visited, not in the way he’d seen some of the fishmongers visited. But he’d never set foot in any of the other stores on the street. So he had no idea whether they were as neutral as he assumed.

Dick still hadn’t said a word. Jason was regretting his carelessness.

“Changing your mind about me now?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“What?” Dick startled. “No, no of course not. I’m just,” Dick sighed. “It worries me, that’s all, that you live so close to danger.”

“This is Gotham,” Jason said, “the entire city is dangerous. It’s the most dangerous place in the country.”

“I know,” Dick said with chagrin. “I guess sometimes I wish I could do more to help the world, you know?”

“Hey,” Jason reached forward and held his hand. “Not all of us were meant to make a difference.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Dick tried to hide the wince, but Jason caught it regardless. And in hindsight, obviously it was the wrong thing to say. Dick must feel helpless, being the only one who hadn’t had a successful philanthropic venture in his family.

He hurriedly backtracked.

“W-what I mean is-”

“It’s fine, Jason,” Dick interrupted him. “I get it, I know my own limits.”

He seemed so downtrodden that Jason couldn’t help but want to reassure him. Even though he knew, better than anyone, that some people were simply born under a charmed star. While the rest of them scrambled to survive as best as they could.

Some lives were just more important.

At least that’s what Jason had always believed.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to verbalise that belief now though, not to Dick. Because saying that would imply that Dick’s life was not important, and Jason didn’t want Dick to ever think he was not important.

And then there was the fact that Dick had chosen Jason to date. Jason definitely knew his own life was far from important.

He would do everything he could to survive of course. But it wouldn’t change much in the world if he no longer existed. He knew that for a fact.

Honestly, why was Dick dating him?

What was he after?

Unless...

“Is this why you’re dating me?”

“What?” Dick asked, confused.

“You feel like trash so you’ve decided to date trash?”

“You’re not trash, Jason.”

“I’ve literally lived on the streets, I am the definition of trash.”

“Don’t say that about yourself. You are not trash.” Dick said it so vehemently that Jason frowned at him.

Because Jason was definitely trash, he’d been street trash since before he even lived on the streets.

“You are not,” Dick insisted. “If anything, I’m thanking the stars that you’re dating me.”

Jason laughed, that was ridiculous.

But then he saw Dick’s face.

“You can’t be serious,” Jason said.

“Could say the same for you,” Dick gave him a soft, fond smile.

“I’m a nobody,” Jason said.

“You own a bakery despite having lived on the streets. That’s not the accomplishments of a nobody.”

“That’s only because of the Martha Wayne Foundation. I got a loan.”

“I know how the Foundation works, Jason. They don’t give loans to just anybody. And they monitor every one of the students they sponsor.”

“Wait, really?” Jason did not remember being monitored.

“Sure! Substance abuse? Immediate move to rehab. Signs of violence? Anger management courses. Domestic violence victim? Access to therapy. Self harm? Access to therapy. And, okay, a lot of it involves access to therapy, but the Foundation doesn’t just throw money around without thought.”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that.

“They definitely don’t offer people loans unless they thought it would be paid back,” Dick continued.

“...You know a lot more about how the Foundation works than I expected.”

“I keep an eye out, that’s all. It’s Bruce’s baby. Well, I suppose Tim’s now.” Dick was looking forlorn again. “He handles all the decisions and strategies and manages the whole thing. I make sure to stay away from that part. But I figured there was no harm in staying up-to-date.”

Dick shook his head.

“Anyway, this isn’t about me,” Dick said.

“Considering the problem is my confusion around why you asked me out, this is definitely at least a little bit about you.”

That brought a genuine smile to Dick’s lips, Jason’s heart fluttered.

“What’s there to be confused about? I like you, Jason.”

“Yeah, that’s the confusing bit. Why? I’m not hot. I’m bad at sex. Despite this you’ve just waltzed into my life, doing everything right from the start-”

Dick spluttered at that. “Doing everything right?! I’ve been messing up from the start.”

Jason had absolutely no idea what Dick was on about. “Are you sure we went on the same dates?”

Dick stared. “B-but-”

“Because all I remember from our dates is you being crazy considerate to the point of suspicion. I nearly asked someone to do a background check on you.”

“What?”

“I didn’t, obviously. But I nearly did.”

Dick looked more confused by the second. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s backtrack for a bit. One, you absolutely are hot. And two, how would you even know you’re bad at sex when you’ve never done it? For all you know, you could be a complete natural.”

Jason hadn’t thought about the sex thing like that. He was ignoring the blatant lie about being hot for now.

“And for that matter, whether someone is good at sex is completely subjective anyway!” Dick threw his hands up at this last part. As if he needed his entire body to emphasise his point.

His whole face was full of exasperation and disbelief. And in that moment, Jason suddenly wanted to kiss him.

He leaned forward before he fully registered what he was doing. And then he paused. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to kiss someone without warning. Maybe he should talk about this first? Did people usually talk about kissing before kissing? Jason wasn’t sure.

It didn’t matter anyway, because Dick clearly didn’t think he needed to talk about kissing before kissing. Dick reacted by leaning forward himself, sliding his arms around Jason’s waist as if he’d done this a million times. And then they were kissing.

And oh, oh there goes the tongue.

Okay, this was getting a bit much now.

Jason gently pushed at Dick’s shoulders.

Dick immediately stopped.

“Sorry, too fast?” Dick panted.

“No! I mean yes. I mean, I dunno.” Jason said breathlessly, running a hand through his hair and taking a step back. His body was screeching at him to move forward, to go back to that nice pleasurable feeling of Dick’s lips against his and Dick’s body pressed against his but his mind was whirling.

“We can stop whenever you want,” Dick said, even though he kept glancing at Jason’s lips.

Not that Jason particularly wanted to stop either.

“I kept thinking I should probably have asked you before just, er, smacking on you like that,” Jason admitted.

“Oh I am completely up for kissing whenever you are,” Dick said bluntly.

Jason blinked. 

“Right...I see...”

Then he surged forward and kissed Dick again.

The second kiss was searing and hot and soft and sent pleasure racing all across Jason’s body. Jason couldn’t get enough of it.

He completely lost himself. At first anyway. Until suddenly he remembered that they were in the library. The family library.

Jason wasn’t sure how he’d handle Tim Drake seeing him make out with his brother in the library like this.

He pushed Dick back again.

“Too much?” Dick asked again.

Jason should probably tell Dick to stop asking him that, but he also kind of liked hearing proof of Dick’s consideration of his feelings.

“No, but we’re in the middle of your family’s library. Anyone could walk in and er...” 

“Nobody is here today. And I’d hear if someone entered the house.”

Which was impossible. The front door was at least half a mile away, there was no way Dick would hear someone walk through it.

But Dick was cupping Jason’s jaw and Jason melted at the soft kiss Dick gave him.

A soft kiss that did not stay soft for long.

“We should...” Jason moaned as Dick sucked along his neck and damn, he never knew his neck could be so sensitive. “We should um...”

He had a thought, but it flew away like feathers on a breeze as Dick rolled on top of him. Jason wasn’t entirely sure when they laid down on the floor but they were very much making out in the middle of the library floor right now.

“Stop, yes,” Dick said. With visible reluctance, he pulled away.

Jason almost wanted to whine.

He looked up at Dick, sitting there thoroughly dishevelled, and wanted nothing more than to pull him back down.

But they couldn’t keep making out on the library floor.

For one thing, he was not having sex for the first time on the floor.

“Do you have a bed?” Jason asked stupidly.

Dick gave him an amused smile.

“You mean here?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I have a bed but...” Dick hesitated, giving Jason a concerned look. “How far are you wanting to go? Because I’ll struggle to stop after a certain point. So I’m going to need to know where the line is ahead of time, if that’s alright with you.”

Jason sat up too and gave Dick a hard stare.

This is going very very fast, his brain reminded him. But Jason didn’t care. Sometimes it was okay to throw caution to the wind. Dick had been nothing but wonderful and kind and considerate and amazing.

So what if it was fast. Jason trusted him.

“Can you show me all of it?” Jason asked, suddenly shy.

“All...” Dick blinked. “Like all the way?”

“Yeah.”

“Jay...are you sure?”

Maybe Dick was having second thoughts about him. Maybe Jason wasn’t good enough.

His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Dick quickly shuffled closer.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Dick said. “I’d be honoured, really. But I want to make sure this is something you want.”

“I want it,” Jason said. Because, now that he’d had a taste, there was suddenly a huge and overwhelming fear that Dick could die at any moment. Maybe he’ll crash his car. Or maybe he’ll be killed by one of the Crazies’ supervillain schemes.

Jason needed to do it now. Right now.

He was so scared he’d never get this chance ever again.

Dick studied him for a moment, but then he smiled and gave Jason a slow, sensual kiss.

He stood up, offering a hand.

Jason took it and let Dick pull him to his feet.

“Come on,” Dick said, holding Jason’s hand and walking out of the room.

They walked down a long hallway decorated with paintings and what were probably antique vases. Then up a beautiful flight of wooden stairs that had an elaborate rug laid over it, after which was a second, equally elaborate, hallway.

Jason was starting to think this house was a maze more than a house.

Finally, Dick led him into a living room with sofas. Jason was half expecting a pull out bed somewhere, but Dick simply kept going. They crossed the room and walked through yet another doorway.

Just as Jason wondered how many doors were left, they entered the bedroom. With the largest four poster bed he had ever seen.

Complete with heavy drapes and curtains.

Jason gulped.

Dick was kneeling on the ground and pulling things out of a drawer. Jason moved closer to watch, to distract himself from the giant bed. He knew Dick was wealthy, of course his bed was going to reflect that.

Honestly, Jason should really get used to all the visible luxuries by now.

He turned his gaze to the contents of the drawer.

“Are these new?” he asked. Most of the things were still in their packaging.

“Oh, yeah,” Dick rubbed his neck awkwardly. “It’s actually been a while since I’ve done this too. And after our first date, well...let’s just say I got overly excited and went on a bit of a shopping spree.”

Jason held up a pair of what appeared to be padded, leather cuffs. “That’s some shopping spree.” Then he noticed something else in the drawer. “Is that a whip?!”

“No!” Dick immediately said, shutting the drawer close with a snap. His cheeks were flushed red.

Jason laughed.

“Okay yes, but we’re not using that today. Just the basic safety stuff.”

Jason looked at the bottles and boxes, wondering what they were for.

He picked up one of the boxes. Condoms.

Right, of course, Jason forgot condoms came in boxes. He was so used to seeing them opened and abandoned on the ground.

Something on the packaging caught his eye.

“Strawberry flavoured? What?”

Since when did condoms have flavours?

Dick gave him a chaste kiss and stood up, hugging all the bottles and boxes to his chest. “You’ll see.”

Chapter Text

Jason woke up feeling warm.

There was an arm wrapped around him, and a hand carding through his hair. As he blinked his eyes open, a nose nuzzled the back of his neck.

“Morning sleepy head,” Dick murmured as he kissed the edge of Jason’s jaw.

Birds were chirping outside. Jason blinked.

Then he bolted right up. “What time is it?” he asked urgently.

“It’s only 2pm,” Dick said, although he sat up too, as if he couldn’t handle being more than 5 cm away.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank goodness. He’d been scared that he slept through the whole day and missed opening the bakery. It was his day off today, so he had met Dick at around 10am. If it was 2pm now then he couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or so.

Despite that, he felt really rested, almost as if he’d had an entire night worth of sleep. He was pretty sure he had never slept so soundly before in his life.

Jason wasn’t sure whether it was because of the big house, the comfortable bed, or Dick himself.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” Dick said, hugging Jason from behind and giving him another soft kiss on the jaw. “We can head into town for a late lunch.”

Food. Food would be good. 

Shower would be good too. He felt grotty, and itchy.

“You can use the shower here,” Dick said, pointing to one of the doors in the bedroom. “I’ll use the guest one,” he gestured to the lounge connected to the bedroom.

That must mean there was a bathroom directly connected to the lounge out there. And there was one here, by the bedroom. That was two bathrooms in this whole ‘unit’. More than most one bed flats. Certainly more than Jason’s place.

Rich people architecture was so frivolous.

Or maybe it was a Wayne family thing. It’s not like Jason knew any other rich person.

“Sure,” Jason nodded, taking the fluffy towel Dick handed him with a smile.

The shower was great. Jason never knew that it was possible to control water pressure so precisely, and he spent a little longer than usual, scrubbing down every single inch of himself, just to have more time under the showerhead.

He did get out eventually though, changing back into his clothes, and found Dick drying his hair with a dryer.

Dick smiled at him. Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to all the smiling, and the softness.

“Do you want to have lunch at my place?” Jason blurted out before he even fully registered the thought, so swept away by the tidal wave of emotions rushing through him.

Dick beamed at him. “I’d love to.”

---

“So, why a baker?” Dick asked as he finished off the last of his food, dabbing his bread in the sauce as if he couldn’t get enough. “There were dozens of vocational courses available. Why this and not, I dunno, an engineer or something?”

“Oh...well...” Jason paused, struggling to form an answer to Dick’s question.

It’s not that he didn’t know the reasons for his choices, nor were the reasons themselves especially complicated. But...where to begin?

Jason gathered Dick’s dishes to buy himself some time.

“There used to be this bakery,” Jason said, walking over to the sink.

“Oh yeah?” Dick got up and joined him, even though there was hardly half a step from the bench to the sink.

“It was just a small independent place. Family-owned I think, but I’m not sure.” It’s not like Jason had ever actually stepped foot inside the bakery itself.

“A-anyway, they used to throw out their bread in the middle of the day. In individual bags and stuff.”

“Like you?”

“Sort of, but with plastic bags. And no soup.” Or cakes for that matter. “And they’d throw it out in the middle of the day, like noon or something. Nowhere near closing time.”

It was probably pretty obvious where this was going, but Dick stayed silent, letting Jason tell the story. Jason didn’t think he’d be so grateful for that.

“It wasn’t much, usually only plain bread rolls and whatnot, or maybe the older kids nabbed all the nice stuff before I could get to it.”

And it was almost always kids that Jason saw around the dumpsters outside the bakery. Just like how it was mostly kids that took food from his crate. Maybe because homeless adults were too busy looking for work during the day, or maybe because homeless adults found it easier to visit bonafide soup kitchens and shelters, Jason didn’t know.

“Even though it was pretty basic stuff, it got me through some rough times,” Jason said, pulling on his gloves as he began the dishes, all so he didn’t have to look at Dick.

It was a simple story, but Jason felt both nervous and pleased as he shared it. He had never told anyone before, never had anyone to tell. No one had ever cared.

Even Red Robin had never thought to ask.

Jason wondered if Red would be interested to know.

“I was so thankful that I actually wanted to work as their apprentice.”

Jason still remembered the day when he first learnt about the concept of apprenticeship in the historic novel he had been reading. The way his brain just clicked at the possibility that he might not have to spend the rest of his life sleeping on the streets.

“I was thinking about how I could prove to them that I’d work hard when they got gunned down in a mafia dispute.”

“They were mafia?” Dick said, surprised.

“No idea, I only ever visited the back alleyway.” And he never got close enough to other people to hear the full details of what happened. “But whether they were actually part of the mafia or not, I’m pretty sure they paid protection money to Falcone. Most people on that street did.

“So Maroni’s hitmen were probably just targeting someone who happened to be at the bakery. And everyone else got caught in the crossfire.”

“Is that why you have bulletproof glass at the front of your shop?” Dick asked.

“How do you know they’re bulletproof?”

Red Robin had known. But Red Robin was a vigilante. He probably crashed through bulletproof glass on a regular basis.

Dick, a regular civilian, knowing what bulletproof glass looked like was surprising. Even Jason, who had researched extensively, had never been able to tell the difference between them. He only knew that bulletproof glass had a tendency to be sold in thicker panels compared to regular glass.

“Oh, um, I just, er...” Dick waved his hands around in a sudden panic, until he grabbed them and gave Jason an embarrassed grin. “Our Head of Research & Development likes to remind me how bulletproof glass is not actually 100% bulletproof. So I wouldn’t try to hide behind one during emergencies. I’ve seen lots of them in all the tests he’s shown me.”

Right, Wayne Enterprise was the leading company when it came to the supply of bulletproof glass. Jason’s own shop windows had been from Wayne Enterprise. Dick probably recognised it.

“But back to why you became a baker!” Dick said, as if he was in a hurry to change the subject.

“That was about it really,” Jason admitted. “There weren’t a lot of choices when I came across the Martha Wayne initiative, since I dropped out of school so young, but the bakery course was available.

“Besides,” Jason put the last dish in the drying rack and pulled off his gloves. “I really like the smell of freshly baked bread.”

Dick tugged at Jason’s hips and drew him close. “Mmm, I think I prefer the smell of you over freshly baked bread,” Dick said.

“You’re such a sap,” Jason murmured against Dick’s lips.

“You’ve not told me to stop yet,” Dick replied.

---

Later, after yet another bout of mindblowing sex, Jason found himself contemplating the strange way his life has played out.

They were lying in his bed, legs entwined beneath the covers, as Jason stared up at the ceiling.

“You’re going to burn a hole through the plaster at this rate,” Dick yawned sleepily.

“I’m just thinking.”

“Mmm, I promise I’ll bring the handcuffs with me next time.”

“Not about that,” Jason laughed.

He shifted on the bed until he was looking at that perfect face.

“Why do you like me?” Jason asked.

Dick turned serious. “Jay...”

“No, really, I just can’t figure it out.”

“Well why do you like me?” Dick asked. “Because I can’t figure it out either.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re perfect, what’s not to like? And that doesn’t answer my question.”

Dick sighed. “No one’s perfect, Jay. Least of all me.”

Jason was inclined to disagree, but Dick still hadn’t answered his question and he wanted to know.

“You don’t need to keep staring like that, I don’t have much beyond ‘what’s not to like?’ as my answer either,” Dick said.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You don’t even believe me when I say you’re hot. Are you going to believe anything I tell you now?”

Jason wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I still want to hear it,” he decided.

“Well, as I said, you’re hot. Don’t laugh, that’s my honest feelings,” Dick said, caressing Jason’s side underneath the warm covers. “And you’re generous and kind.”

Jason scoffed.

“Stop it,” Dick gave him a light pinch. “You wanted to know, so listen to me.”

“Fine, fine.”

Dick paused here, looking at the little patch of bedsheet between them.

“Jay, I...” Dick sighed. “You don’t know what it feels like to be around you. To be honest, I can barely put it into words myself. All I know is...”

Dick looked up at him, “All I know is that when I’m with you, I feel relaxed. Happy. Hopeful . You remind me that it’s okay to do things that I enjoy, and that it’s okay to focus on my own happiness now and then.”

Jason didn’t have a response to that either. He wasn’t sure he was allowed to believe what Dick was saying to him.

“Being with you makes me happy, Jay. I like you, I like you a lot. I like who you are. I like who I am when I’m with you. I like...I like everything when we’re together.”

It made no sense.

It made no sense that Dick could possibly think all that. That Dick could possibly like him.

But a lot of things in life made no sense. Leslie Thompkins’ free clinic made no sense. The Martha Wayne Foundation made no sense. Crime-fighting vigilantes made no sense.

This didn’t have to make sense.

These feelings Jason had towards Dick - feelings more intense than any he had ever felt before - were clearly here to stay, whether it made sense or not.

Who cared if it was going too fast. Who cared if it all seemed too good to be true.

Being here, with Dick, felt right.

Everything. In this moment. Felt right.

Jason leaned forward, and kissed him.

Chapter Text

Dick hummed to himself as he pressed the elevator button. It was barely 7pm but he felt like he had lived an entire lifetime since leaving the penthouse this morning. In a good way.

He’d not been this relaxed and happy for a long time now. The sex was probably one of the reasons he felt so good. Nothing bolstered endorphin levels quite like immensely pleasurable exercise. But Dick was sure that simply being around Jason made him happy.

He had been entirely serious when he told Jason that he’d be happy to cuddle the whole day while Jason read through every book in their library.

It’d been so long since he’d felt close to someone too. Not just on a physical level, but emotionally.

Dick hadn’t had a relationship since...whatever the hell that was with Catalina.

Not letting that bring my mood down, he thought to himself.

She was in jail, and Dick was now dating the most perfect guy in the world. Life was good.

Life was great.

He thought back to the shy way Jason held his hand in the kitchen. The warmth he felt when Jason smiled at him in the bedroom. How they both kept leaning forward for just one last kiss when Dick had to leave.

Dick nearly cartwheeled into the foyer by the time the elevator doors opened.

His good mood further improved once he walked into the kitchen and saw Tim and Damian sitting in the same room! Without arguing!

They were seated at opposite ends of the kitchen island, each with a bowl of food in front of them, and completely ignoring each other. But they were being civil. There were no angry glares or snide remarks.

Dick beamed at them.

“Good morning~!” he chirped.

“Morning,” Tim replied distractedly, eyes fully focused on the tablet in front of him.

Damian sneered. “Grayson. It is 7pm in the evening. That is the incorrect greeting for 7pm in the evening.”

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, Damian,” Dick said, waltzing over to the fridge.

He pulled out the jug of orange juice, and set it down in the middle of the kitchen island.

“Anyone want juice?”

“Mm,” Tim said, clearly having not heard a word of what Dick said. Or maybe he was purposely being obtuse. Dick had no idea. But that response usually meant that anything placed in front of him would be completely ignored, so Dick didn’t bother getting him a glass.

“I have tea,” Damian replied. He was frowning at Dick, scrutinising him, as if he disapproved of Dick’s happy mood.

Dick ignored him too, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and pouring himself some juice.

“You are happy.” Damian said. He sounded so confused that Dick snorted in amusement.

“Very good, Damian,” he smiled, raising his glass of orange juice in Damian’s direction. “A+, 10 out of 10.”

Damian scowled. He turned back to his food, clearly deeming the conversation not worth his time.

But this was Damian. And Damian always needed to have the last word.

Dick waited patiently for the dismissive closing remark. 

Hopefully it won’t be a condescending one, he and Alfred had been working real hard to teach him the difference between what was - and what was not - appropriate to say.

Damian scooped a spoonful of vegetables from his bowl. “It’s because of that baker. Your date must have gone well.”

Dick froze. As if a thousand icicles had pierced him all at once.

He hadn’t told anyone who he was dating.

He hadn’t told anyone. Even Alfred didn’t know. Alfred only knew that he was seeing someone. That he wanted to keep the details a secret because it was still early days and-

How did Damian find out?

Had he been followed? No, that was impossible. Alfred had been especially careful with keeping an eye on Damian after he snuck out to play hero last time. And Dick had routinely checked Damian’s tracker too.

Did Damian hack his phone? Also impossible. Barbara would have been notified. Damian was smart, but he wasn’t smarter than Barbara. Not when it was about technology.

That’s not important right now!

Dick glanced at Tim. He fervently hoped that the contents of the tablet was distracting enough and Tim didn’t hear a word of what Damian said.

“Baker?” No luck. Dick watched as if in slow motion as Tim tore his eyes away from the tablet. “Where did you meet a-”

There was a moment of only pure confusion, during which Dick held on to a vague hope that he might be able to weasel out of this by pretending he was dating a different baker. But almost immediately, that hope was dashed.

Dick watched as everything clicked into place. He watched as Tim’s entire expression shuttered shut, leaving nothing but outrage.

“You’re dating Jason?!”

“Tim, I can explai-”

“I don’t believe this.” Tim stood up. Staring at Dick with mounting horror.

Dick felt his own heartbeat race at the sight of Tim backing away from the kitchen island. The feeling of doom creeped up and down his spine as Tim tried in vain to find the right words. As if he couldn’t decide what he was more angry about.

“I don’t believe this!!” Tim said again, louder, sterner. More hysterical.

“Tim.”

Tim didn’t stay to listen. He simply grabbed his tablet and ran out of the room.

Dick felt his breath hitch. His heart was running a mile a minute and Tim was going to leave and-

Dick pulled out his phone and locked both garages with his Batman privileges. He also locked the elevator from stopping at any of the other floors. He couldn’t let Tim leave. If Tim left, Dick would never see him again.

Dick can’t handle never seeing Tim again.

With the garages locked, Dick took a moment to breathe and turned to the only other person left in the room.

Damian was staring at the door with wide-eyes, baffled at this turn of events. He turned those eyes towards Dick. Clearly hoping for some insight into why his simple words had caused such an explosion of emotions.

Dick didn’t have it in him to explain right now.

“How?” he asked instead, unable to stop his voice from shaking. “How did you know who I was dating?”

Damian curled in on himself. “I’ve been checking your tracker,” he said meekly.

And wasn’t that ironic.

Dick knew he should tell Damian that was a breach of privacy. He knew he should tell Damian not to do it again. But how could he? It would be the height of hypocrisy.

He needed to say something though. To reassure Damian that none of this was his fault (for once). But Dick was still reeling from having his secret thrown out into the open without any choice in the matter.

You shouldn’t have kept it a secret to begin with, his mind reminded him. You shouldn’t have let yourself create a secret to begin with.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Dick managed to say. Unlike his thumping heart, his voice was deadly calm.

Damian nodded obediently. Staring at the polished, granite surface of the kitchen island.

Dick nodded too. Then he left the room, heading for the elevator.

He checked the security feed the second the elevator doors closed. Tim was in the civilian garage, tapping away on his tablet. No doubt creating something to bypass Dick’s administrative rights as Batman, to break through Bruce’s security as fast as he could.

Tim was good at breaking security systems, no system in the world could keep him for long. But Dick didn’t need to keep him for long. He only needed long enough to say his piece.

To say what?

Dick wasn’t sure. But he had to say something. He had to explain. He had to stop Tim from running off again.

The elevator gave a cheerful ding.

Dick got out. Stomach roiling and heart in his throat.

“Tim.”

“Fuck off!” Tim snarled.

Dick winced. But it was probably the least he deserved.

He stood there, shifting in place as his mind clawed desperately for a way out of this situation.

There was nothing.

What could he say? Dick had gone behind Tim’s back. Dick had purposely gone behind Tim’s back.

Dick knew better than anyone that keeping secrets was not the way to foster trust. Perhaps that was why he was struggling to even speak right now. Perhaps that was why every word that came to mind felt meaningless, insufficient.

Nothing he could say would be good enough.

In the end, Tim was the one who broke the silence. He must have finished writing his programme, or automated enough of it to put it down as it worked through whatever it was it needed to work through to open the door. Either way, he had put his tablet down, even though the door stayed firmly shut, and glared hard at Dick.

“Why?” Tim asked.

Dick didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t sure of the answer himself.

“Of all the people in the world,” Tim began, and Dick could see his voice catch, could see the way Tim was tearing up at this news. His heart clenched at the sight. “Of all the people in the world you could have dated. Why did it have to be him?!”

Dick flinched.

“One place! Just one place! You couldn’t even let me have that?”

“That’s not-”

“I know you met at the bakery. I know you’re the one who asked him out!”

So they did talk about him. Dick had wondered. Not that it mattered now.

“What part of ‘stay away’ did you not understand?!” Tim said, voice breaking.

Dick rocked back at the intensity of Tim’s pain. He caused this. He knew he caused this and his mind was spinning at how he could fix it.

If only he had more self-control. If only he backed off when he had the chance, none of this would have happened.

He opened and closed his mouth. Words failed him.

Tim stood there, chest heaving with emotions, glaring at the ground.

“I...” But Dick could say nothing, helpless in the face of Tim’s completely justified anger.

Because Tim was right. He had told him to stay away. Jason had told him to stay away.

Dick had ignored them. He had selfishly pursued his paranoia. And then he had selfishly pursued Jason.

There was a click. The garage door gave an ominous groan. The programme must have finished rewriting the administrative locks because the door was slowly rising upwards.

Tim grabbed his keys.

“Tim, wait!”

Tim ignored him. He got into his car.

“Tim, please.”

Tim slammed the car door shut.

“I’m sorry!” Dick yelled desperately.

But Tim revved the engine, its noise drowning out any pleas and platitudes Dick could offer. Dick could only watch, as Tim tore out of the garage on screeching tires.

Dick slumped, raising his eyes to the sky as the full weight of what he had done descended upon his shoulders. He felt helpless and hopeless.

He had been so happy.

His phone buzzed. A text. Dick pulled it out to see a message from Jason.

I had lots of fun today. 😃

Dick smiled weakly at the emoji, gently amused that Jason had actually used one. But the joy from Jason’s message was completely overshadowed by guilt, by sadness, and by longing.

Dick stared hard at his phone. And sighed.

Chapter Text

It was a wonder that Tim did not crash.

He barely registered leaving, or driving, or parking. He stumbled into his townhouse in a daze, all but falling into the elevator that took him to his own version of the Batcave.

The anger was thrumming under his skin, like an endless drumbeat.

Not important, he decided. This is not important. I should get ready for patrol and forget about all this.

He stumbled over to where he stored his suit, nearly dropping it twice, before giving up and simply sinking to the floor.

There was no way he could patrol like this. With his hands shaking and heart beating and why did it even matter?

Why did it matter that Dick lied to him. That Dick pretended he had accepted Tim’s request to give him space, and then immediately walked back on it. It’s not like this was the first time this had happened.

And wasn’t Tim the one at fault? For being too stupid to notice.

It was so obvious now that he thought about it. How quickly they started dating. The picnic. The caviar at the picnic? Dick always took caviar to a picnic.

How could he not have figured it out? The clues had been right there.

It took Damian to tell him. Damian. The crazy kid who killed first and asked questions later. If it weren’t for him, Tim may never have found out.

That rankled in all sorts of uncomfortable ways.

Tim wondered if they talked about it when he wasn’t around. Maybe Dick had shared his secrets with Damian the way he seemed to share everything else these days.

He shook his head. He told himself he would accept Damian. He told himself that if he wanted to be a part of this family, there would be concessions. Damian being closer to Dick than Tim had ever been was part of that.

There was no reason to be upset about this. He knew they were close. Of course Damian knew who Dick was dating.

A sudden fear crept through Tim’s thoughts. Had Jason met Damian? Were they friends?

Tim swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t want Jason to be friends with Damian. It was selfish of him, he knew, but he was so tired of being thrown aside for a kid who got away with everything. Got away with things that Tim had never dared to even think about.

No.

Jason...Jason wouldn’t do that. Right?

Then again, Jason didn’t know that Red Robin was part of Dick Grayson’s family.

Tim gripped at his uniform, it scrunched up between his fingers as he sat there slumped against the metallic locker. The reality of the future, or perhaps even the present, was overwhelming.

Having Jason be invited to the family he was desperately trying to fit into. Having Jason push him aside for-

Stop.

Jason was not like Dick. Jason didn’t throw people away for his own convenience.

Tim lowered his head, resting it against his knees as he hugged his legs. His thoughts swirled, pulling up memories of all the times he had thought he was getting close to someone. Times he thought he was important to them, only to discover that he wasn’t.

He pushed those thoughts away. Jason wasn’t like that. Jason wouldn’t do that.

Then again, Tim used to think Dick wouldn’t do that either. Yet the moment Damian arrived...

He sniffed, feeling familiar hurt and pain rising up like bubbling sludge.

Tim wasn’t sure what he’d do if Jason suddenly decided Tim was worthless. But there were only two types of people in Tim’s life. Those who left, and those who died.

Bruce was probably the only exception to this rule, the way Batman was the exception for a lot of things, but Bruce was stuck in the timestream and wasn’t around right now. Tim was going to have to figure it out himself.

Maybe he could gently encourage Jason to date some other people. He and Dick had only just met, it couldn’t be that difficult to get Jason to like someone else.

He thought back to all the time Jason had talked about his mystery crush. How happy he looked, how smitten. In awe.

Sighing, he slumped down sideways onto the floor.

Jason had been happier than Tim had ever seen him. And as angry as he was with Dick, he knew Dick always treated his partners well. Tim couldn’t take Jason’s happiness away just because he was uncomfortable with Jason’s choices.

Which meant he was going to have to deal with it. He was going to have to deal with hearing Jason gush about someone that repeatedly betrayed Tim’s trust. He was going to have to stay supportive. That was what a good friend would do.

Rolling over onto his back, Tim stared up at the ceiling.

This is going to suck.

—

For the first time since he came back from his trip around the world, Tim hesitated before entering the bakery.

He wanted to see Jason. He wanted the familiar comfort of the bakery. The whirling of the dough mixers and the buzzing of the ovens.

He wanted to feel cared for and important; to laugh and joke around.

He wanted to take a break from his problems. To escape from the stress of playing nice with Damian and pretending he wasn’t still upset with what Dick did to him.

He wouldn’t be able to escape from thinking about his family at the bakery anymore.

Although maybe that option had ended the moment Dick had found him.

He stood there, by the backdoor, hesitating.

He looked back towards his bike.

He didn’t have to visit. He could just go home.

No, no he was doing this. Jason wasn’t going to be over Dick any time soon, that much was clear. Better he start getting used to it now.

Tim took a deep breath; braced himself for the happy glow that Jason had been sporting lately; and opened the door.

Jason was not sporting a happy glow today.

In fact, Jason didn’t look happy at all. He didn’t even smile.

His eyes were red and puffy, as if he’d been rubbing them too much, or had been crying for the last few hours.

“Hey,” Jason said, voice rough and hoarse.

Tim stared.

“What happened?”

Jason dropped a piece of dough on the countertop. “Nothing. Dick Grayson’s an asshole. That’s all.”

Usually Tim would agree wholeheartedly with that statement. But all he could say today was, “What?”

Jason had been completely smitten. Dick had been in the best mood earlier. What could possibly have changed between then and now?

“He dumped me,” Jason said bluntly. “He fucked me, then dumped me. Guess he was bored or killing time or something.”

Jason shook his head, a look of shame on his face. “I should have known when he kept asking to see me. Who the hell asks to see someone three times within four days. I can’t believe I fell for it.”

Tim gaped, brain stuttering as it tried to compute what had happened. How could Dick do this? How could he do this ?

“We had such a good time yesterday too,” Jason laughed, voice hitching as he willfully held back his tears. “I really thought-” A sniff. “But no, got a text this morning, and he’s already blocked my number. Can’t believe I was so stupid!”

All at once, anger roared through Tim’s body. He clenched his teeth and balled his hands into fists.

Without a word, he spun on his heels and stalked out the door.

“Hey,” Jason called out.

Tim ignored him. He jumped onto his bike.

“Hey stop!”

The engine rumbled to life.

“Don’t you go attacking him!” Jason yelled.

Tim sped off into the night, Jason’s cry echoing behind him.

It only fuelled Tim’s anger. Even now, Jason cared about Dick’s wellbeing. Because Jason was the kindest soul in the world who did not deserve someone like Dick.

How dare Dick play with him like this. How dare he hurt Tim’s friend without a care in the world.

He skidded into the Batcave garage, only a few floors below the civilian garage Dick had locked him in earlier that day.

Dick was by the computer console, his cowl pulled back, his head in his hands.

The sight of him lazily sprawled over the keyboard made Tim’s fury boil tenfold.

He stomped inside and practically ripped his own cowl away from his face.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he shouted.

Dick jumped. As if he had been napping. Tim could not believe the impertinence.

“Wha-” Dick began, but Tim cut right through whatever excuse he was about to sprout.

“You break up with him? Just like that?” Tim snapped. “Didn’t even consider his feelings? You can’t just treat people like this, Dick! You can’t just...just throw them away whenever it’s convenient for you!”

Dick’s face twisted in indignation. But Tim wasn’t done.

“You can’t just- You can’t just forget about them because you’ve found someone else more useful. Or- or,” Tim broke off, that bucket of emotions he had been holding back for so long finally cracking under the strain. “Or decide that they don’t have a place in your life becaus-”

“What do you want from me?!” Dick screamed.

Tim stepped back, shocked into silence.

“What do you want from me, Tim?” Dick said again, quieter, but no less tortuous. “I did what you wanted. Why isn’t that enough?”

Tim stared at Dick with wide eyes.

Because Dick was crying.

Dick never cried in front of him.

And now that Tim took a proper look, Dick’s eyes were red and puffy too.

“I liked him, Tim. I really liked him. But you were right. I should never have asked him out. I should have stayed away from that bakery like you both told me to,” Dick said, continually wiping away his tears. It was a bit of a fruitless endeavour, because new ones appeared immediately. “That’s why I cut things off. I’m doing what you want, aren’t I? So why are you still angry?”

Tim couldn’t breathe. Tim couldn’t breathe because instantly everything fell into place.

This was all his fault.

Everything.

Everything was his fault. All of it. This was all happening because of him. He was the reason everyone was upset.

Him and his selfishness.

If Tim had been a better person, he wouldn’t have been so insistent on keeping the Robin mantle.

If Tim had been a more supportive brother, he wouldn’t have been so angry that Dick got along with Damian better than him.

If Tim had been a good friend, Jason wouldn’t have had his heart broken.

All because of Tim.

He tried to swallow away that lump in his throat. To force himself to speak. To apologise. To do something.

But he couldn’t. He could only stare, stare at his older brother who was only trying his hardest, until he couldn’t stare anymore.

Until he couldn’t be in that room, surrounded by all the things that used to keep him sane.

He took a step back. And fled.

—

It wasn’t until he arrived at Ports Bakery that he realised how stupid it was to drive to Jason’s, drive away, then drive back to Jason’s again.

He sat there, on his bike, staring at the closed back door, wondering what on earth was wrong with him.

Hadn’t he learnt that he should stop taking and taking and taking?

People he knew either left him behind or died. And now he knew why.

It was because of him all along. He was the problem. He was the reason. He was the curse that shouldn’t exist in this world.

Tim took a deep breath, tasting the salty air on his tongue.

At least he could breathe better out here, away from Wayne Tower and in the open air.

I shouldn’t come here anymore, Tim thought to himself. But even though he knew it was a bad idea, even though he knew he was the cause of Jason’s pain, he couldn’t help but walk up to the door and open it.

Jason didn’t notice him immediately. He, a true professional, was still preparing his bread and pastries and whatnot. The only sign he was having a rough day are his red eyes and the occasional sniffle.

Tim knocked on the door softly. He felt so guilty.

Jason looked up.

He stared at Tim for a moment. Then he gave a world-weary sigh.

“He’s with someone else isn’t he.”

“No!” Tim immediately protested. “No, he’s not! He’s...” But what could Tim say? That he was the reason Jason’s perfect boyfriend broke things off with him?

“It’s alright, Red,” Jason said, turning back to his dough. “I’m over it.”

Jason was clearly not over it. And that was besides the point. Jason wouldn’t be suffering like this in the first place if it weren’t for Tim.

His heart clenched at the thought, squeezing tight as guilt and shame overtook him. Tim felt his breath hitch. He wanted to explain himself, explain what he had done.

But he couldn’t. It was bad enough that he’d ruined everything. He couldn’t compromise the entire superhero community’s secret identities on top of that.

“I...” Tim stared at Jason. Jason, who was doing his best to move on, who had the courage to face forward. The least Tim could do was apologise. “I’m sorry.”

Jason turned to him and his entire demeanour softened. “Hey, it’s not your fault. You can’t stop someone from being an asshole.”

“No, I-” because it was Tim’s fault. He couldn’t explain to Jason how it was his fault, but it was. He needed Jason to know at least that much. So that Jason would stop treating Tim with this undeserved kindness.

Jason walked over and wrapped Tim up in a gentle hug.

“Look, I get you want to help every single person in the world. That’s sort of your thing. But you can’t help everyone. This has nothing to do with superheroes or villains or anything.”

Tim shook his head. He knew he should pull away. That he didn’t deserve any of this, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He gripped at the back of Jason’s baker-jacket and shook his head.

“It’s not your fault okay? It had nothing to do with you, so you don’t need to blame yourself so much.”

But it was. It was his fault. And Tim could do nothing but cry in Jason’s arms.