Work Text:
Jason Todd hated galas. They were filled to the brim with the most obnoxious people he had ever met in his entire life, stuffed into stiff tuxedos and gaudy dresses. And every single one of them hated him almost as much as he hated them. There was nothing he could do about it, either. In Crime Alley, people just beat the shit out’ve you if they didn’t like you. Here though, everyone hid their attacks behind fake smiles and passive aggression. Which meant that Jason had to “play nice” and resist the temptation to put something sharp in their beds.
He didn’t usually even attend these kind’ve events; as the last time he’d been forced to make an appearance he had cursed out some ancient socialite and her friends who’d made a pass at Dick despite being about a million years old. Afterwards, Dick had said he didn’t need Jason to protect him, but Jason knew he appreciated it. And thus Jason became exempt from attending every stupid soirée or cocktail party that B and Dick had to, in order to keep the tabloids from getting any more press from him.
The annual Wayne Foundation charity gala though, was impossible to avoid. Especially since he didn’t have Dick’s excuse of being busy with a drug ring in Bludhaven. His absence from it would be much more noticeable than any scandal he could cause while he was there, so he was stuck being carted around and introduced to every single person with too much money in seemingly all of Gotham. Currently, the businessowners Jason had the displeasure of meeting were the Drakes. Jack and Janet Drake, founders of Drake Industries and also anthropologists or something; along with their son, Tim.
Timothy Jackson Drake (God, even his name sounded pretentious) was everything you would expect from a Gotham high society brat. He was judgmental, spoiled, and had such a big superiority complex he didn’t even deign to look Jason in the eye. After the most awkward handshake of his life, Jason had even seen the little snot wipe his hands on his $500 dress pants like he couldn’t wait to get Jason’s “street-rat filth” off him. The kid wasn’t that old, probably like 8 or something, and he had already learned to look down on someone like Jason. He didn’t even know why B bothered to introduce them. Tim's parents were mega rich assholes like everyone else at the gala but they weren’t that rich. Not Bruce Wayne rich, or rich enough that Jason should be forced to talk to them.
Not that they did talk to him. They probably wanted to talk to him even less than Jason did, considering his “truly… unfortunate past” (Janet’s words) that B skillfully steered the conversation away from. Tim’s parents had each very carefully addressed Jason for the least amount of time possible while still being polite, before turning their attention to B and leaving him to deal with their spawn. Said spawn that was no longer in sight. Jason had taken his eyes off the little shit for .02 seconds and he had already managed to disappear. The kid was good at sneaking away, Jason would give him that.
But Jason was Robin, sneak extraordinaire, and if B really thought it important for them to meet then he wasn’t gonna let the kid get away that easily. Thing 1 and Thing 2 had tied up B talking about… something. Jason wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying. The important thing however, was that they were already occupied, so he was free to go hunt down little Timmy. If he looked closely when he scanned the room, Jason could see a small head bobbing around in the sea of basic black tuxedos. The kid had made it all the way to the bathrooms in less than a minute, which was just a little bit impressive.
Jason slipped between many a perfume drenched individual, and miraculously managed to avoid being snagged by any cheek-pinchers before he arrived at the buffet table near the bathrooms. It wasn’t the kind’ve buffet table Jason was used to of course; instead of cheese puffs and punch there were salmon crudités and wine. Along with a bunch of stuff Jason couldn’t name. Though as he passed by, he admittedly couldn’t avoid pocketing a few of the more edible ones for later.
Jason was in the middle of eating something green and crunchy when he followed Timmers into the bathroom. Which was not as weird as it sounded, all the best society gossip was exchanged inside these tiled walls. Nobody was going to talk about Froofroo Francie’s third affair out on the floor, that was for sure.
Although, it was a waiting game before you actually heard anything good in here. But Jason had snuck away from enough uncomfortable conversations to hide in here that he knew how to look busy. He would spend a small eternity futzing with the stupid bow tie Dick put on him before one of the CEOs would finally see him and start complaining about whichever hedge fund managaer had screwed them over this time. And if anyone ever wondered how Bruce Wayne always managed to stay up-to-date on the latest personal scandals, no one would ever suspect Jason.
But Jason wasn’t here for any intel gathering. He had a twerp to find. He couldn’t just barge in on the kid while he was maybe actually using the bathroom he was hiding in. Even if it was unlikely, Jason wasn’t just gonna kick the door down on him, he wasn’t a barbarian . So he meandered around by himself (quite patiently might he add) like a gentleman.
Jason waited for quite a while, actually. Which was a feat for him, considering he didn’t even have a good book to keep him occupied. He must’ve washed his hands about a thousand times now, so what the hell was taking the kid so long? If staking him out wasn’t gonna work, Jason figured he might as well just ask the little shit. He was nothing if not flexible.
Jason knocked on the stall door.
“Hey, Timbo.”
“Timothy.” A surprisingly quiet voice corrected him, almost automatically.
“Yeah, I know your name. You takin’ a piss or readin’ Anna Karenina in there?”
This time Jason didn’t get an answer, but he could hear heavy muffled breathing from the other side of the door.
“Tim?” He tried again.
The breathing got faster somehow, which was mildly concerning.
Jason knocked again. He didn’t get a response, again. Slightly more concerning. And as much as he hated little rich kids, he couldn’t just leave him in there. Jason had committed himself to the twerp when he’d followed him in here, and Robin wouldn’t abandon someone in need.
“Kid, if you don’t tell me what’s goin’ on, I’m gonna have to come in.”
Nothing but soft hiccups.
“Tim, seriously-”
“S’unlocked.” Tim cut Jason off quietly. Which, Thank God , Jason thought. He really didn’t feel like kicking down a door today.
Jason pushed the stall door open, causing it to swing and hit the wall with a loud clang . He briefly saw the kid huddled on the floor before Tim clapped his hands over his ears and let out a low keening sound; to which Jason very eloquently responded,
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Tim just curled into himself further, and Jason cringed internally. He probably could’ve been a little bit quieter. Oh well .
Jason closed the door behind him, quieter this time. He figured the kid didn’t want everyone to get a front row seat to his little freak out; appearances to keep up and all that. Now that he could actually see Tim, Jason realized he was right to be concerned. The kid was rocking back and forth and breathing sharply, huddled into the smallest ball of human Jason had ever seen. His hands were clamped up over his head and the parts of his face that weren’t covered by his knees were glistening with tears. He was very clearly not having a good day.
He took a deep breath, and kneeled on the floor so he was closer to Tim’s level.
“Tim,” He made sure his voice wasn’t too loud when he addressed him this time, “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Jason shoved down all his remaining dislike for the kid, instead relying on his knowledge of comforting panicked citizens from his Robin training.
Tim didn’t look up from his knees, but he did respond to Jason’s question. “...h’rts.” He mumbled.
Again, concerning. Jason looked the kid up and down another time, making sure he didn’t somehow miss any gaping wounds that needed to be patched. He didn’t find any, and was just about to move closer when Tim began to tug on the stupid tie around his neck. He didn’t get very far, as his fumbling fingers kept slipping before he could manage to undo the knot.
It’s too tight , Jason realized. He could sympathize with that. He reached out towards the kid, aiming to help him take it off. He barely got near Tim before he flinched back, a fresh wave of tears dripping down his face. Right, he should probably warn him.
“I’m gonna help you take your tie off, okay?”
The scrambling paused, and Tim nodded slowly. Jason reached a hand out again, and while the kid still shook like a leaf he managed not to flinch this time. Carefully, with deft fingers honed from years of pickpocketing, Jason undid the knotted fabric and placed it on the -somewhat- grimy floor. It was already pretty wrecked from the scratching anyway, so Jason didn’t give it a second thought.
“Better?”
Tim nodded again, and now that Jason had stopped touching him he resumed rocking back and forth. He glanced over the kid again, and found that even with the tie gone he still looked incredibly uncomfortable. His tuxedo did not look like it was made with 8 year olds in mind. Jason could fix that.
“Wanna see if I can find you some different clothes?” Jason had no idea where he would find any of course, but he could at least try.
No response.
“Tim, would you like it if I could find comfier clothes for you?”
Tim shook his head. “C’nt.”
That was… not the answer Jason was expecting.
“Why not?”
The kid shook his head again. “Nn-o.” He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “No.”
Jason waited a minute to see if Tim would provide an explanation. Surprisingly, he did.
“Mm- par’nts.”
“Your parents? They… want you to wear the tux?” Jason guessed.
Tim nodded into his knees.
Jason looked around, double checking that Jack and Janet Drake hadn’t suddenly appeared. He wouldn’t be surprised if they could do that. Thankfully however, they were alone in the bathroom.
“Well, they’re not here now. So… we can do whatever you want. Do you want different clothes?”
Tim was quiet for a few minutes. Jason tapped his fingers on the floor while he waited. Finally, the kid took a shaky breath in, and nodded.
Now… to actually acquire said clothes.
Jason probably should’ve thought about that first. He figured B might have a pair of sweatpants on him, considering, y’know… Batman . Actually, it would be unusual if he didn’t have any. He usually had at least a million items shoved into his fanny pack utility belt at any given time. He was like a goth Mary Poppins.
Might as well try , Jason thought, standing up. Maybe he could even convince B to let him leave the gala early while he was at it.
“Alrighty Timmers, be right back.”
The kid didn’t look up, but he didn’t object either. So Jason assumed he didn’t mind. Closing the stall door behind him, Jason reemerged into the fray. Unsurprisingly, nobody had left yet. Still disappointing though. There was no legitimate reason for anyone to stay at these things for more than an hour. It’s a fundraiser, just drop the cash and leave.
Jason spotted B in the same place he was before, however it seemed he had managed to unstick himself from the Drakes and was instead being corralled by another couple that looked… exactly the same. He was doing a good job at pretending to laugh at their jokes and look interested in yet another business deal proposal, but the gala had been dragging on for hours now. Jason could tell he was ready for it to be over, so hopefully he would appreciate the interruption.
Jason sidled up to B completely unnoticed by the two knock-off Drakes, who continued to blabber on. He slapped on his best society smile and tugged at B’s suit jacket sleeve.
“Dad?”
The couple stopped talking when they noticed Jason to give him a venomous glare. He was just relieved they were even capable of shutting up.
B gave the pair his signature ‘Sorry, gotta go take care of my kid’ smile and wrapped an arm around Jason’s shoulder to lead him away. If he looked back, Jason could see them roll their eyes and mutter between themselves.
Once they were an adequate distance away, B leaned down to look at Jason.
“What is it, Jaylad?”
“You got any hoodies?” Jason asked.
B blinked at him in confusion. His eyebrows creased and he opened his mouth slowly, like he was afraid to ask what Jason was going to use them for.
“It’s for Tim, he needs clothes that don’t suffocate him.”
B’s eyebrow crease got more prominent.
“Tim… Drake?” B clarified.
“Yep, that’s the one.”
...
“Jason, the Drakes left an hour ago.”
Jason froze.
They what .
They left him?
“I think they forgot something .” Jason seethed. He spun around and marched back towards the bathrooms. How dare they . Those assholes remebered every goddamn excruciating detail of their trip to Paris but forgot their own fucking kid?
Jason was going to destroy them. He was going- he was going to- to do something. He would set their yacht on fire, he would- he would plant cockroaches in their apartment, he would switch all their toothpaste with glass. Anything that would make them realize they weren’t allowed to treat their kid like this. That nobody was allowed to treat their kids like this. He would make Willis the Drakes pay for hurting Jason Tim like this.
He wouldn’t have it. He just wouldn’t. Jason didn’t care if he was a minor, he was adopting the kid right fucking now. And if he couldn’t do it, at least he could get B to. Wait - shit - B. In his rage he had forgotten about B. Jason looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure he was still there. He could see B speed-walking behind him, one of Jason’s Wonder Woman hoodies and a pair of sweatpants in his arms. Good . Jason practically trampled yet another tux-wearing businessman as he strode back into the bathrooms.
Jason stopped in front of the stalls. He couldn’t hear any crying, which was good. But now he didn’t know which one the kid was in. Jason forced himself to take a few deep breaths and make sure his anger didn’t seep into his voice. He didn’t want the kid to think he was mad at him .
“Tim?” He called. “I brought clothes.”
“M’here.” Tim answered, voice appearing to come from the 4th stall down.
Jason twisted around to grab the clothes from B, signaling for him to wait outside, before disappearing back into the stall Timmers remained camped out in.
When Jason saw Tim again he could see he had definitely improved. For starters, he had stopped clawing at the uncomfortable fabric of his suit and was instead just fidgeting with his hands. And while there were still tears, there weren’t any body-wracking sobs. So, small victories.
“Alright, uh,” Jason fumbled with the clothes in his hands and held up the Wonder-Woman hoodie, “I got you a sweatshirt, and…” He held up the sweatpants (now visibly Superman themed), “some pants.”
Tim stood up and Jason (gently) shoved the offerings into his arms. Neither of them moved. Tim shuffled from foot to foot and Jason could see that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. Does he need help?
“Do you… need help putting them on?”
Tim nodded.
Jason didn’t know how to undo a suit. B had had his custom made, with fabric that didn’t make him want to tear it off immediately and a zipper instead of 1,000 buttons. Unfortunately for the kid, his looked like a more complex design. With tons of buttons, and paneling, and… things that made it harder to get off. Definitely not designed with an 8 year old in mind.
Which meant that either Jason would have to quickly figure out how to get the damn thing off without ruining it somehow, because he knew what kind’ve people the Drakes were, or… he could get B to do it. Only problem with that was whether or not the kid was comfortable with B.
“Uh… so, Tim, you know Bruce?” He should, considering that they were at his gala, but you never know. Sometimes people showed up to these things without even knowing what it was.
“Right, well…” Jason continued, “would you be good with him comin’ in here and helpin’ you?”
Tim blinked slowly - he looked kind of out’ve it, which was fair given that he’d just spent the greater part of the night crying. Eventually he nodded, albeit a little hesitantly.
“Great, uh, I’ll go get him.”
Jason backed out of the stall, facing B again. He stuck his thumb backwards, gesturing to where Tim was.
“He needs some help getting his tux off.”
B nodded affirmatively, and swept in to help. Hopefully, Tim would be too out of it to realize that it was Bruce Wayne helping him get dressed.
With B and Tim inside, Jason was left back where he started. Waiting. While Jason could be patient, he didn’t enjoy it. And he still didn’t have a book.
So he paced around the bathroom.
And waited.
And paced.
And waited.
And paced.
Until finally (a whole 10 minutes later) B emerged with a Tim swaddled in clothing that was bigger than he was. With the new addition of a tangle that Tim twisted around in his hands.
“Tim will be coming home with us today.” B announced, as if there was any other option.
“What’re we gonna tell Alfred when we show up with another kid?”
B raised an eyebrow at Jason. “We are not adopting Tim.”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” He nodded with false solemnity, moving to walk behind the two as they made their way out of the gala. B would have to explain their early departure to the press later, but that was easy. A simple spin on the ‘family emergency’ story would be enough to satisfy them.
As Jason trailed along behind, he saw B place a protective hand on Tim’s shoulder. He grinned to himself. Not adopted…yet.