Chapter Text
At this point Jason is considering hiring some kind of supernatural specialist. Because after all the bullshit he’d had to deal with in the 18 something years he’s been alive (and the couple or so he wasn’t), there has to come a point to admit he’s been cursed.
Did he piss off a witch in a past life or something, because this can’t be normal.
Of all the things he thought he might be dealing with today not once did it cross his mind that Tim Fucking Drake of all people would be the guy to pin him in an alleyway.
Not literally of course, the kid looks maybe 110 lbs sopping wet and he’s not even in costume. A fact that Jason is bitterly pleased about. The only thing that would make this whole conversation even more unpleasant would be the replacement cosplaying his childhood. But as it stands he isn’t.
In fact, Jason isn’t even sure Tim knows that He knows he’s Robin.
The kid stands in front of him, back to the opening of the alleyway, dressed in his school uniform. Like he’d caught a bus from the good part of Gotham to the shit hole that was Crime Alley. He doesn’t even look nervous about it, just determined as he brandishes a piece of paper for Jason to take.
Up until this point it had been a good evening. Red Hood’s control over the criminal ecosystem had been wielding good results. Drug peddling down 18%. Sexual Assault down 47%. Stabbings and Shootings down 23%. And with the demolition of this latest gang he’d been casing, he was sure the Peddling percentage was about to go up a couple more points as well. But that’s where his good mood had ended.
He’d dipped from his sniper position to piss when Tim had stepped out of the shadows and cornered him to the back wall.
Jason squinted at the paper, trying to read the printed text from the 8ft or so away that he stood.
“The fuck’s this?” He spat, not even attempting to keep the bitter fury from his voice. To his credit, Tim didn’t flinch, though his throat bobbed quickly in a nervous gulp.
“I’d like you to sign this.” Tim stated, a manufactured polite tone coating his words, “I need your help.”
Oh fuck no.
“What makes you think I’d ever do anything to help you?” Jason growled, stalking forward, “Gotham Academy, right? You gotta have some decent cash behind you to go there. What’s the matter, Richie Rich? Mommy and Daddy not forking enough out for you?” He snatched the paper from out of Tim’s hands, gleaming in the way he stepped back in surprise.
Jason snorted through his nose and flickered his eyes over the page.
“Emergency Foster Placement- The fuck is this Richie?!”
Tim audibly swallowed and forced himself to step forward again.
“My parents are being investigated. I can’t go home and if I don’t find someone to say they’ll take care of me, they’ll put me in foster care. And I can’t-” He catches himself quickly, and Jason watches Tim’s face become still with practiced high-society stoicism. “I need someone to sign those papers so I can get child services off my back. And I heard you help kids who need it.”
Fuck you, you low blow striking son of a-
Jason gripped the rage in the back of his mind with both hands and choked it.
“What’s your name kid?” He asked instead. It was becoming clear now that Tim had absolutely no idea who he was under the mask.
“Timothy Drake.” Tim responded in a hollow-y tone. He was clearly checking out from this conversation as much as he could emotionally, and GOD did Jason hate that he could recognise why.
“Don’t you got someone else to sign this, Tim?” Jason asked as softly as he could, rage still simmering underneath the surface.
Tim shook his head.
Ah, so we’re lying today. Jason thought bitterly, knowing all too intimately the exact speed and velocity Brucie would jump to add his signature to the bottom of this page. He clucked his tongue in annoyance.
“You sure about that? No friends or family?” Jason pressed, getting closer still to Tim, “No… Mentors?”
Tim froze, looking up at the polished red gloss of Jason’s helmet.
He quickly shook his head, “I couldn’t… he wouldn’t…”
“And what makes you think I could or would, huh?” Jason interrupted, flicking the paper in Tim’s face, “I’m a murderer, not a mommy. Get lost.”
“Wait!” Tim begged, lunging to grab at Jason’s arm when he turned to leave, “You wouldn’t even have to do anything, you just have to sign it and I’ll leave you alone! I can even pay you.”
Jason wrenched his arm from Tim’s grip, “Don’t touch me again.” He snarled.
“I don’t want your money, and I don’t want you in my life, you hear me Richie?” Tim stumbled back as Jason leered over him.
“I’m dangerous, you’d be better off in the system.” Jason sniffed, knowing just how much of a lie that was. Tim’s hands were crinkling the form with how tight he was holding it. In the light, his eyes seem to shine a little more than they should have. Jason clenched his fists in time with his heart.
“Please…” Tim whispered, “I’m… I’m really desperate…”
Fuck.
Jason took a step back, barely resisting the urge to punch the brick wall beside them. He sighed, the weight of every bad decision clinging to his chest.
Just say no. Just say no. Just say no. Just say no. Just say no.
“Gimme that,” He snatched the paper from Tim’s hands again.
Fucking shit dammit!
“You got a pen?”
Tim blinked owlishly before scrambling to grab a pen from his book bag, as if terrified Jason would change his mind in the 6 seconds he took to search. He held it out to Jason who snatched it right out of his hands.
“Turn around,” He commanded, pushing on Tim’s shoulders til the kid did as he was told. The form was warped against the thick material of Tim’s school blazer but it would have to do. “If we do this, we’re doing it right. You got that Richie? When I sign this you’re my kid.” Jason snarled.
“I don’t do things in half measures. I’m gonna be there for every PTA meeting, every club invite, every fucking carpool you understand? I don’t need some white bread, pearl clutching bitch telling me I’m a shitty Guardian just ‘cause I didn’t ask for this.”
The ink leaked around his signature from how hard he was pressing the delicate nib into Tim’s back. He spun the other around while the cursive was still wet.
“I’m gonna pick you up from school tomorrow and we are going shopping together, got it?”
“I uh… you don’t… I... I can take care of myself, you really don’t have-” Tim stumbled around his words, looking down at the signed form like it was the holy grail.
“We have an agreement Repl- Richie,” Jason caught himself, “That paper says you’re mine til you hit 18. And I am going to give you a childhood, whether you like it or not.” The words were soft but it sounded like a threat.
“I filled out my address on the form, if you’re so nervous about shit, look it up before tomorrow. You got somewhere to go tonight?”
Tim nodded.
“Then get! Buses stop running ‘round here at 9. And I got work still.”
Tim nodded again. Eyes wide like he couldn’t tell if he was being threatened or not.
Jason watched the kid book it out of the alley. Signed form clutched in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Once he’d turned the corner and was fully out of sight Jason let the tension in his chest snap.
His fist hit the wall again and again and again, til the leather covering his knuckles wore away and tore at his bare skin.
FUCK FUCK FUCK
What had he done? He couldn’t be a father! One stray nightmare and he’d throttle the kid in his sleep. The last thing he wanted in life was some child stinking up his safehouse, let alone the one that had replaced him. That had taken his place in his family! He’d stolen that from Jason.
Well, clearly not well enough if he didn’t trust Bruce enough to sign the dotted line.
Maybe the Bat had lost his ‘fatherly’ touch in his old age. Not like he really had it much to begin with, emotionally constipated asshole!
Jason would be better than he was. He’d be there for Tim way more than Bruce had ever been there for him. There would be no limit to what he would be willing to do. Not a rooftop Jason wouldn’t be willing to toss someone from if they so much as looked at Tim wrong.
He’d be a better father than Bruce ever could be. And with how Tim was still running around kitted in costume, it would only be a matter of time before old Batsy found out. Just imagining the look on Bruce’s face when he realised he’d been entirely outclassed by his ex-son was delicious.
It made the whole situation, at bare minimum, palatable. At least to the green rage simmering in the back of his skull. It didn’t cry for Tim’s death much anymore, it simply wanted to make Bruce hurt.
Jason sighed. Hands now shaky and bleeding.
He hoisted himself back up the side of the building to collect his stuff. The assassination would have to wait for another time.