Chapter Text
It wasn't like Tim was unused to walking in on awkward conversations—and even more awkward...encounters thank you Dick—when he was in the manor. It was actually one of the main reasons he'd moved out, along with needing a place where his various vintage collectables could be displayed without the threat of cat attack or Damian sabotage—“You're not supposed to take them out of the box, Damian!” “-Tt- Nonsense, they look much better on display this way. You can even remove their limbs to simulate battle wounds"—and his desire to have the occasional night off—“Bruce, I'm kind of busy tonight, can't someone else look for Croc in the sewers? It's not like he's actually hurting anyone this time.” “You're not busy. You've been refreshing your Tumblr page for the past two hours, suit up.” “Wait you're monitoring my computer? Bruce!”
But this? This was something totally new.
“You're dating who?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms and just staring at Jason.
Tim's eyes widened.
Because this was about Jason and dating.
Tim's gossip instincts, reluctantly acquired and honed over hundreds of late night conversations with Steph, Dick, Bart and, surprisingly, Cass, stood at rigid attention. He barely even noticed Damian was in the room too because this was Jason and dating and Jason didn't date and who could possibly stand being around him long enough to not just like him enough to ask him out but actually date him. And who could it possibly be for Bruce to so obviously disapprove? Was it Talia? Roy? Tim barely held back a gasp. Was it Selina?
“Damian.”
Time stopped. And so did Tim. Just...stopped. If he were to go back later on and look at the security footage, he was sure it would show that he'd actually ceased to exist for four to seven seconds. The exact same amount of time he was absolutely sure Bruce was legally and physically turned into a stone statue, and coincidentally also the exact same amount of time it took for Jason to grab Damian around the shoulders and haul him into an aggressive cuddle. Damian's scowl could have melted durasteel, but even though he was currently a non-existent, non-corporeal being, Tim didn't miss the way the demon-spawn actually leaned into Jason.
I'd really like to wake up now. This nightmare is already gonna send me into therapy and I do not want to get to the part that actually makes me wake up screaming.
Of course, that was when Tim decided to pop back into existence. And because a fully formed Tim also possessed all those inconvenient detective skills, he knew he wasn't actually having a nightmare.
No one could come up with this without already being a serial killer. No one.
That was also the moment Bruce decided to go from statue to...well. Not exactly human. More like, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars, go directly to Batman.
The shadows around Bruce danced with unholy glee, covering his shoulders like the cape that couldn't possibly be down in the cave where it belonged because, look, it was right there along with the cowl and the look in his eyes that said “I am the night. You will fear me” with a healthy added dose of “I will destroy you on a cellular level.”
Why didn't I just drive straight into the cave? Nothing like this ever happens in the cave.
“Jason.” Bruce's voice was full Batman now, not that Tim was in any way surprised, or disapproving. Only Batman could save the world from this...this—
Jason dropped a quick kiss on Damian's head, prompting a halfhearted squirm and—by the unholy tentacles of Cthulhu—an actual blush.
This .
“You can't be serious.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You really think I'd come clean if I wasn't serious?”
Bruce loomed over the both of them. Which, even considering the apocalypse happening right in front of him, was pretty impressive since he was still sitting behind his desk.
“He's fifteen.”
Jason scoffed. “Really Bruce? That's what you're going with? That it's against the law?”
Which was a good point, Tim thought, considering...well, everything, but mostly the fact that this was Jason and he only ever cared about the law when someone else was breaking it. Mostly because that gave him an excuse to beat the hell out of him, her, it, or them.
“Father—”
“He's not old enough to—”
This time, Jason outright laughed. “To what? Date? Drink? Put on a costume and fight crime?”
Again, not a terrible point.
“Jason, silence. I will handle this. Father you—”
He called him Jason.
This time, Tim did squeak. Thankfully, everyone seemed to preoccupied to notice him.
It would only be much, much later that he'd realized now would have been the perfect time to slip out and bleach his brain.
“He's not old enough to date you. You're too old for him. You're...since when do you even date?”
Tim nodded vigorously.
“That question is so weird with the Batman voice,” Jason said.
Tim's nodding increased.
“It's also valid.” Bruce's eyes narrowed. “Since you've come back you've shown little interest in perusing anything but antagonistic relationships with anyone who isn't Roy Harper, let alone members of this family. Why now?”
“Because I want to?”
“This is not a game.”
Jason glared. “You know what? The kid was right. You can't handle this. Even when I try to do the right thing instead of keeping it a secret like we've been doing for—”
“Is this part of some plot to get back at me?”
Despite the roaring fire in the cavernous fireplace, the air in the room suddenly took on an arctic crispness. And while he was grateful Bruce had interrupted Jason before he could find out how long this had been going on—oh god, have I been in the manor when they...—he knew right away that Bruce had made a huge mistake. Over the years Jason had...well, not exactly mellowed per se, but he had made a real effort to be more than a big ball of rage and resentment. It was obvious that, even though he would never have the relationship with Bruce that he'd had when they were Batman and Robin, he'd tried to put their past behind him as much as possible. Even Tim noticed, and he made a point to ignore and avoid Jason as much as he possibly could ever since the Month of the Unfortunate Crush, which had manifested itself in blushes and an uncontrollable stutter whenever Jason was Jason, or at least not wearing that stupid helmet.
But that was beside the point.
The point was, Jason had been trying, and whether Bruce was the only one who didn't see it, or if he was just reacting on outdated instinct because his (somewhat lapsed) homicidal adopted son was dating his (mostly recovered) assassin biological son, Jason wasn't nearly well adjusted enough to give Bruce anything that even looked like the benefit of the doubt.
“Fuck. You.” It seemed like the only thing holding Jason back from lunging at Bruce was Damian's tight grip on what had to be one of the main nerves in his arm. “Is it really so fucking hard to believe that I can actually love someone?”
Tim choked on nothing.
Bruce's silence filled the room.
“Fine,” Jason said, his voice deadly calm. “I'm out of here.”
He pulled his arm out of Damian's grip and stalked towards the door. As in, the only door in or out of the room. As in, the one Tim had never moved from in front of.
Jason glared and snarled, “Move, replacement.”
Tim scurried out of the way. Even if he could think of anything to say—and he might as well take up self-immolation as a hobby if he was actually thinking about getting in the middle of this—he knew he was the last person Jason would want to hear it from.
“Jason, stop!” Damian snapped. His entire body was tense and angry, but his eyes... His eyes were filled with the kind of worry Tim had honestly thought the demon-spawn was incapable of.
He really cares about Jason...
Jason did stop, but when he turned around, he only had eyes for Bruce. “You know, you better think really hard about what you say to him after I leave. Whether you think I'm faking it or not, you should at least know your son well enough by now to be able to tell how he feels. He's not the kid starving for your attention that he used to be. Say the wrong thing, and Dickie won't be the only Robin you drove away.”
He stared at Bruce for a short eternity, and only then did his eyes fall on Damian.
Tim was, by nature, observant. Sometimes he hated it, especially when it made him the keeper of secrets he'd have been happier never knowing. But even he would have been hard pressed to notice the way the hard, angry lines of Jason's face softened ever so slightly when he looked at Damian if he hadn't been this close.
Maybe he's not the only one.
“See you later?”
Damian nodded jerkily, scowling at everything and everyone in the room except Jason, even though Damian never looked away.
And with that, Jason left.
Damian wasted little time.
“Father!” He spun around. “You—”
“I suppose this is the form your long overdue teenage rebellion is taking?”
Damian's froze mid-word, and even Tim gave Bruce a look.
Because yeah, Jason and Damian being....together was, quite frankly, horrifying. But it wasn't as impossible as it might have seemed before Tim had actually seen it with his own eyes. Jason was Jason and Damian was Damian, and if they somehow made their sharp, abrasive edges fit together?
Well. Not that Tim wanted to be exposed to it, but there were probably worse ways they could be spending their free time.
Especially Jason.
“I have never known you to be so blind.”
Bruce—and he was definitely Bruce now, more exhausted dad than terrifying urban legend—sighed. “Damian—”
“No, you have had your turn to speak, now it is mine.” He stood up straight, and while he was taller now than he had been at ten, it was becoming obvious that he would always be more Talia than Bruce in the height department. Still, he was the demon-spawn, and being threatening had never been one of his problems.
“I will not have you belittle my...relationship, with Jason.” Damian was probably going for disgusted, or at least ambivalent, but to Tim he just seemed in awe of the entire concept of being in a relationship. “We are in...we care about each other very much. And if you refuse to see that, then—”Oh god, he's gonna threaten to run away. Damian is going the threaten to run away with his boyfriend—“you are no longer fit to be Batman.”
Tim just stared. And while part of him really wanted to ask about the logic behind that—
Most of him just wanted this whole night to be over.
“You may have Pennyworth deliver the suit to my room, if you cannot bring yourself to surrender it with grace.”
Tim almost laughed, because, yeah, there was no way The Suit was ever going to fit Damian. Hell, Jason was probably the only one of them who could fit into it and be able to handle the weight without any alterations—and Tim really hoped that wasn't some kind of cosmic symbolism. But he didn't, because, for whatever reason, Damian was completely serious. Bruce seemed to realize it too, because for just a moment, the shadows rebelled and he seemed to age twenty years right before Tim's eyes. Not for the first time, Tim wondered just what kind of toll it took to be so many different things. Batman, Mr Wayne, Brucie, Bruce, Dad. He'd had enough trouble with his own identity juggling, and he'd never had so many at once.
But like he said, it only lasted for a moment. Bruce leaned forward, his arms resting on the desk, and the shadows retreated leaving behind only Batman.
“Be dressed and in the cave by midnight, Robin.”
And didn't it just say so much about this family that Bruce retreating into the Bat and burying all human emotion seemed to be exactly the response Damian was looking for.
“Of course.”
He nodded once, then turned on his heel. He paused, seeming to notice Tim for the first time, and flushed slightly before sticking his chin up and sauntering out of the room. Tim blinked.
Who the hell taught him to do that?
“You know,” Bruce said, startling Tim because he's Batman and seems to instinctively know exactly when people aren't expecting him to say anything. “I never expected it to be Jason. I'd always thought it would be Dick. Or you.”
It took Tim less than a heartbeat to realize what Bruce meant.
It took less than that for him to flee.
Some conversations just really needed to be avoided all together.