adding this to the list of wips lol

Not Him

Summery: Damian might be the tiniest bit insecure and maybe just a little jealous too.

or, in which Tim’s half brother and Dana Winters’s son is discovered in Bludhaven and Damian feels his place as Tim’s only little brother being threatened.

Damian was not jealous. Damian Wayne, son of Batman, the heir to Wayne Enterprise, the greatest of Robins and the hero of Gotham was not jealous of the sniveling pathetic child currently busy clinging to Drake’s leg.

He was not.

No matter what Jon teasingly implied. No matter how much the thought of Drake referring to this intruder as family made his hands twitch towards the hidden blade in his sleeve, Damian was not jealous and it was preposterous that he’d even contemplated the idea in the first place.

No, Jon was just getting into his head and it would be wise to ignore his buffoon of a friend and focus on the real issue at hand. Namely this intruder who’d been let into his home, his household on the flimsy reason that he shared blood with Drake. As if Drake’s commoner blood in any way should grant such favours.

Gripping the banister tight enough to make his knuckles creak, Damian gritted his teeth.

Warren Winters, son of Dana Winters and half brother of one Timothy Jackson Drake.

He’d been discovered by fluke of unfortunate (to Damian) circumstance at a Bludhaven orphanage by Richard, as his older brother was investigating a break in into said orphanage and found the child during his digging into the files of the occupants of the shabby little home.

Who even broke into an orphanage? For what gain? To saddle Damian with the misfortune of sharing a home; even if temporary, with Drake’s sniveling half-brother?

Briefly Damian took the time to wish the Rainy-Sunset orphanage’s criminal nothing but twice the misfortune they’d bestowed upon Damian himself.

“Dami,” Richard suddenly called out, having turned around and spotted him atop the stairs. “Come say hi! Timmy brought his baby brother over to see us, isn’t that exciting!”

Damian didn’t know why the phrase ‘baby brother’ made him flinch, but he violently suppressed any other outward revealing glimmer into what he actually thought of the intruder and instead chose to give Drake a stiff nod, from where other stood by the entrance to the hall; two suitcases in hand, and another similar nod to Richard before he turned his back to them. “I am busy,” he said loudly, voice firm as steel and polite as the most refined of elites. “But I wish Drake’s companion the best of welcomes to our home.” And with that he hastened away; making sure not to rush his steps but doing his best to put as much distance between himself and the unwelcomed brat as quickly as possible; ignoring Richard’s surprised callbacks.

When he reached his room, he slammed the door shut behind him and threw himself atop of his covers, blindingly reaching for his phone by the bedside as his face was currently buried in his pillow. Jon picked up after the second ring.

“Have you met him yet?”

Damian growled low into the pillow. “Can we not talk about him,” he muttered.

“If you didn’t want to talk or complain about him you wouldn’t have called me,” Jon cheerfully retorted. “Now tell me, did you meet him? How was he? Is he as stoic as Tim or is he more like his mom…. Um, however she was.”

“I don’t know,” Damian snapped. “I didn’t talk to him. He was clinging to Drake and crying like an oversensitive brat so I chose to walk away before I ended up strangling him.”

“Wo,” Jon’s voice came over the phone. “You really are jealous.

“I’m not,” Damian hissed, rolling onto his side and glaring at the phone for good measure. “Stop prattling nonsense.”

“Dude,” Jon said, “If you weren’t jealous of Tim’s new baby bro you wouldn’t be whining about him so much. Like you hate him, a lot, that isn’t normal unless you have personal feelings invested into this little fella.”

“You know very well how capable I am of hating those inferior to me.”

“Not like this.”

“Jon,” Damian said, voice dripping with warning. “Drop it.”

There was a pause and then a sigh. “Fine,” his friend muttered. “I will.”

“Good.”

A pause, then, “Wanna come visit this weekend?”

Damian closed his eyes for a second, relaxing into his bed and allowing himself a moment to just breathe. “You cannot trick me into attending your classmate’s birthday Jon. I remember that it is this weekend.”

“Seriously?” Came Jon’s surprised tone. “I told you about it weeks ago, how do you even remember? Actually,” he cut himself off before Damian could reward him with a snarky comeback. “I don’t even care. Just come visit. We don’t have to go to Emelie’s birthday. We could just hang out at home.”

Damian hummed softly. It would be nice to get away from everything for a while and surely Richard couldn’t fault him for visiting a friend.

“Will the clone be there?” He finally asked.

“The clone has a name,” Jon answered back lightly but Damian having known him for years could instantly detect the frost behind his tone. Jon had apparently grown rather protective off the clone over the years and did not appreciate the way Damian often addressed him.

“Will Kon-El be there,” Damian allowed himself to concede, just this once and from the way Jon’s voice lifted up in appreciation, perhaps it was a point worth conceding.

“No,” Jon said. “He’ll be covering Tim’s shift at the Tower so he won’t be around so you have no excuse to skip out on me man.”

“Very well,” Damian said, not really having planned to argue against Jon today; especially if a trip to the Kent farm meant getting away from Wayne manor. “I will come. I only need to communicate my plans to Richard and I will see you the day after tomorrow.”

There was a significant silence that fell over them then, Jon clearly mulling over something and yet being unwilling to share his thoughts with Damian. The youngest Wayne gave him the time to compose his thoughts but when nearly three minutes had passed in utter silence, he coughed loudly and glared at his phone as if Jon could see him through it. “What is it?”

It was obvious the sudden interruption had startled Jon for there was a clatter and a yelp, some rustling and then Jon was back on the phone. “Sorry,” he breathed. “You caught me a little of guard there.”

“I realized,” Damian scoffed, crossing his arms behind his head and staring daggers at the ceiling. “What has your mind so occupied?”

Jon was quiet for a bit and Damian had started to contemplate interrupting his thoughts again when his friend finally spoke up. “Maybe you should stay and bond with the kid? I don’t want to take you away from—”

“Are you kidding me,” Damian snapped, sitting up quickly and reaching for his phone. “You suggested this trip and now you’re backing out because you’re feeling guilty that you’re helping me avoid the bratling?”

“I know, I know,” his best friend whined over the phone. “I just don’t want to get in the way of your family. Like what if the kid stays—”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t mean with the Wayne family. But if Tim—”

“No,” Damian snapped; voice much louder than he’d expected. “Drake will not foster that child!”

“Dems, come on man, be reasonable. The kid is his only family left of course he might want to take him in.”

“Drake does not require extra family,” Damian said, fingers tightening around the phone. “He has us. Besides,” he added, forcing his voice to even out despite being aware how much Jon already knew this entire situation bothered him. “Drake is only 20 years of age. He cannot possibly raise a child. No, it is best the child is given to a family that can take care of him, far away from Gotham.”

A long pause, then-

“Dude,” Jon said. “Jealousy does not look good on you.”

“I am not jealous!”

The End

Summery: Tim accidentally kills someone and Bruce finds out

Chapters: 2/6

Jason was furious. No, not furious. He could never be furious with Alfred.

No, he was simmering in disappointment.

Yes, he was somewhere between furious and disappointed at their butler and he couldn’t quite make himself move past the negative emotions. Instead he let them sit there on his chest, building and building and taking up all the space in his head until all he could do not to fly of the hinges was to make breakfast.

Pancakes to be exact.

Alfred never approved of Pancakes on weekdays. Well, Jason was about to break that rule with a big fat stack of pancakes for the zombified ducklings he called siblings and if Alfred wanted to be aghast at his behaviour he could damn well come down from his quarters and fucking make him stop. But he wouldn’t now would he. Nop, their grandfather figure had been avoiding them all like the plague or more specifically Goldie and Tim.

While Alfred had been nothing but cordial and polite towards him, Jason couldn’t make himself be okay with their beloved butler blatantly ignoring Goldie. Not when Dick looked so freaking heartbroken every time Alfred made up some pathetic excuse not to be in a room with him.

He suspected the man was also avoiding Timmers but neither were trying to engage the other in a conversation enough for Jason to pinpoint who was actually avoiding who. So, safe to say Jason Peter Todd was simmering in disappointment and was therefore taking it out on the breakfast menu.

That’s how a stumbling, racoon-eyed Tim Drake found him half an hour later. “Pancakes?” he muttered, crashing into the nearest chair, head thumping against his folded arms. “Is it Sunday?”

“No,” Jason grinned, grabbing a plate and putting it in front of him. “Coffee?

"Do you even have to ask,” Tim mumbled.

“Every day Timbo,” Jason said, pouring him a cup. “In hopes that one day you’ll see the light.”

“Even you drink coffee in the morning, Jay,” Tim said, head still uncomfortable resting on his arm as he blindly reached for the mug. “Now, gimme.”

Shaking his head, Jason slid the drink across the table and went back to flipping the pancakes. “Whatever you say Timberly.”

It was a couple of minutes later; after Tim had gulped down every drop and dug into the stack of pancakes in front of him that his younger brother finally was coherent enough to hold a decent conversation. “So,” Tim said; voice garbled. “Pancakes on Sunday? What does Alfred think?”

Jaw ticking, Jason took a second to rearrange his face into a semblance of ease before he turned around to smirk at Tim, syrup in hand. “Alfred is currently busy so breakfast is on me and I say pancakes on Thursday.”

Something shuttered over Tim’s eyes and his baby brother ducked his head down; shoulders pulling up in that self-soothing way of his. “Alfred is always busy these days.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, turning off the stove and moving over to sit across from the kid. “Give him time.”

“Yeah,” Tim echoed. “He just needs time.” The doubts in his tone was near undetectable but Jason detected it nonetheless and his stomach turned at the defeated energy wrapping itself around his brother.

Alfred was being such an asshole for this and Jason didn’t even know why. Was he pissed at Tim like Bruce? Was he pissed at Dickhead for getting rid of Bruce? What the fuck was going on with him?

Alfred wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sure he loved B but Jason always believed if push came to shove Afie would pick them but now–

“Eat your breakfast and go back to bed,” he said instead, reaching across the table to pat the kid’s hand before standing up and going back to clean the dishes to the sound of Tim’s half hearted protests. “And get Goldie and the Demon Spawn while you’re at it.”

“I can’t go back to sleep,” Tim said and when Jason turned around to glare at him, he glared back. “I have to look over the finer details of the merger agreement and sign off on the sizable sum we’re donating to the new clinic by Woodhaven street. It’s the least I could do after I saddled Tam and Lucius with my share of work,” he added, shoulders slumping ever so slightly and Jason sighed, looking away.

“They understand you need a break from the office even if they don’t know why,” he said, trying to play it off as casual. “You should stop being so hard on yourself kid.”

“It’s been months,” Tim said, voice barely above a whisper. “I should be over it by now.”

“You–” Jason started but before he could once again deconstruct everything wrong with that statement, Goldie walked in, dragging the demon baby behind him.

“You made pancakes for breakfast, Jay?” he sing-songed, eyes alight even with his face carved out in exhaustion. “Have I ever told you how much I love you.”

“Several times,” Jason said, setting a stack of pancakes in front of him and a vegan meal in front of the little brat who only nodded tersely at him in acknowledgement and thanks wrapped up into one. “And it doesn’t get any less gross.”

“Aw, don’t be like that baby brother,” Dick said, dousing the stack with nauseating amount of syrup before sprinkling it with sugar; Jason grimaced in pain. “I know you love me.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Jason said, all the while observing him behind critical eyes. It’d been two weeks since Batman had up and fled the nest and he could see the toll it had taken on the eldest Wayne. Dick had taken to part-time patrolling with Duke in the morning as Nightwing and donning the cowl at night to make sure the Gotham criminals still feared the Bat but it was obvious he couldn’t keep this up for long and try as he might not to, Jason couldn’t help but worry about when Dick Greyson would eventually collapse under the pressure he was under. Not for the first time Jason wished Cass was here. She would be able to talk some sense into the idiot. “Eat your breakfast, Dickhead.”

Dick stuck his tongue out at him. Jason threw a towel in his face. Damian scrunched up his nose in disgust and Tim huffed in amusement.

Things might have been messy at the moment but Jason was sure they’d find a way to figure it out in the end.

He was sure of it.

———————

He went to see Tiny Tim after a rigorous training on the mats; taking out all his frustration and anger on the dummies and expelling  the doubts chasing themselves around in his head through his fists.

This was their situation now.

There was no going back from this and as soon as he accepted the current predicament of the disaster of a family he was trying to keep together, the better. Nothing could be done about Bruce or Dick’s refusal to let any meta into Gotham as some sort of last tie to their deadbeat dad but he, Jason, he could stay. He could keep that promise he made to Goldie and stay.

He could make them breakfast and cover more areas in Gotham to lessen the burden on Dick’s shoulders and he could pick the little demon up from school and he could ruffle Duke’s hair until that fake smile turned into a real one and he could check in on Timmers whenever he stayed too long in his room to make sure he wasn’t overworking himself to death. Jason could do all that, so he did them.

Knocking twice on the door, Jason waited for the muffled acknowledgement before he walked into Tim’s room. “It’s been five hours since I last saw you, brat,” he started off conversationally. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I’m in bed,” Tim said, waving a hand at the bed he was sitting in, with documents strewn around him as he typed away at his laptop.

“Don’t smartass me, TimTam,” Jason said, marching over and snatching the computer out of his hands. “You need sleep.”

“I’ll sleep later,” the kid snapped, trying and failing to get his device back. “I promise.”

“Your promises mean shit,” Jason said, taking a quick peak at the tiny little lines of writing; skimming over the text to make sure he hadn’t messed anything up, before he saved all the kid’s work, shutting off the computer as soon as he did. “Sleep,” he said, putting the laptop away and clearing every single piece of paper from the bed. “Now.”

“I’m not a kid,” Tim retorted; eyebrows drawn in a frown, long hair he’d yet to cut pulled in a messy braid courtesy of Stephanie’s last visit. “You don’t need to baby me, Jay.”

“I aint babying you,” he said, pressing both hands over the kid’s shoulders and shoving him downward which caused a yelp of protest and the kid glaring up at him again. “You’re just a very self destructive CEO in need of supervision.”

“Fine,” the kid conceded, pulling up the duvet to his neck and closing his eyes with a sigh. “I’ll sleep, just leave me alone.”

“At least a solid four hours,” Jason said, tapping his forehead until the kid opened his eyes again. “Four hours or you’re not getting your stuff back.”

Conflicting emotions raged across Tim’s face but finally he nodded. “Fine.”

“Good,” Jason said, grabbing the laptop and the documents on his way out. “Night, Tiktak.”

“That isn’t even close to my name. You’re losing your touch, Jay,” Tim called out after him and Jason slammed his door shut as a response.

————————–

He didn’t quite know how he found himself sitting in front of the Batmobile and yet, here he was, staring at the big black wheels and wondering how Bruce could have up and abandoned them just like that.

Bruce wasn’t the best of them. Jason of all people knew that. Knew it as well as a fist beating him black and blue but there were reasons to Bruce’s anger at him.

He’d killed a bunch of people. Murdered drug dealers and pedophiles and murderers and wife beaters and he’d never felt a single ounce of remorse for any of it. He still didn’t. So he got it. He really did. He understood why Bruce lashed out at him. But even then, Bruce had welcomed him back when he’d finally dropped his guns and announced to an overly emotional Goldie that he wanted to come back. He’d been welcomed back with open arms and while Bruce remained wary off him during patrols he’d never held his past against him. Not to the extend he was holding it against Tim. Tim who hadn’t actually killed someone because he liked it. But killed by accident!

How did B not get that?

He still remembered that night as if it was yesterday. Tim’s breathless, pained whimpers as he’d frantically called him on that frequency only used between them. As he begged him to do something, to help. And Tim had been so confused, so scared and yet when Jason had made it to him; taking every corner as if it was his last in his race to reach him as quickly as humanly possible. Tim had been on that roof, hands pressing down on the gaping wound, crying and begging the obviously dead man to please live.

He’d been a mess.

Tears and blood and limps that didn’t quite move right. Jason hadn’t known what to do when he’d seen him but when Tim had turned around, cowl gone and cheeks wet and gasped out his name. Gasped out a little “Help me, Hood. Please help me.” He’d moved.

“I got you Babybird,” he’d said, pulling the shaking figure into his chest, forcing him not to look at the still body on the ground and he’d shushed him gently with each whimper of apology and ‘please please I didn’t mean to’ and Jason had looked at the dead man and felt sorry. He didn’t look like a criminal. He looked so damn ordinary with his tailor made suit and slicked back hair and Jason felt so many things because if Tim accidently killing a two-bit tug it would have been so much easier on the brat’s consciousness and yet—-

Later when he learned the full story. Later when he’d called Dick and nearly teared up at how ready his stupid bleeding-heart of a brother was to disobey Bruce’s words and help deal with the body in secrecy. Later when he was wiping away the blood from his baby’s brother’s hands and noticed for the first time the drugged out state the kid was in. Later when he finally figured out the story from the incoherent mumbles of explanation Tim managed to offer….. When he realized the dead man was Mortimer Wallace, the head of Wayne Enterprise HR department, a man who’d put together Tim Drake’s secret identity, drugged his coffee during a meeting and then tried to…….

Yeah, Jason hatred blossomed into the ugliest shade of crimson and he’d raged against the wall of the cave the second he was sure Tim was safe with Dick upstairs.

Punched and punched and punched until his knuckles split, his pinky dislocated and his wrist throbbed and he wished he could have dragged the dead corpse of the man to the Lazarus pits, resurrect him just to murder him again. He deserved nothing. He didn’t deserve the funeral he got. Didn’t deserve family mourning him. Didn’t deserve tears or sad goodbyes. He deserved hell and Jason hated that he hadn’t been the one to put him there.

So here he was, staring at the Batmobile, wondering if Bruce would have changed his mind, done things differently if he’d known the whole truth.

Did it really matter though?

Bruce hadn’t wanted to hear what any of them had to say and he’d left them. Walked out the door because he didn’t believe Tim deserved the benefit of the doubt and in doing so broke what little semblance of family they’d managed to patch together.

Standing up, Jason put the wheel chocks in place, loosened the lug nuts, lifted the car, placed the jack stand, removed the lug nuts and finally removed the wheel and tire. He did the same to the last three and sat back down.

“Fuck you Batman. Fuck you.”

—————–

“Master Jason? What a pleasant surprise.” Alfred was looking at him as if he genuinely hadn’t expected to see him at the Manor this late. And why should he. Jason only stayed part of the day and made himself scarce whenever he could. It’s only so much of this family he could take and apparently that seemed to be the case for the old butler as well these days.

“Yeah, I bet,” he said, frowning. “What are you doing up so late, Alfie?”

“Cleaning up after you lads of course,” Alfred said, eyebrows raising in clear displeasure off the mess left at the living room; popcorn strewn around the carpet, a single shoe hanging from the couch, stacks off books tilting dangerously by the corner and a bowl of chocolate left out for so long it had started to melt. Jason grimaced, ducking down to hide the embarrassed flush traveling up his ears. Alfred hummed softly before he got to work.

Jason watched him for a quiet minute and then he stepped forward and started picking up alongside him. Alfred didn’t say a word. Jason didn’t ask him to.

But when they were done, the Wayne Manor’s living room as spotless and clean as the butler liked, Jason couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore. “If you hate it here so much, why don’t you just leave?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Excuse me?” The shocked look on Alfred’s face made his stomach turn. “I do not believe I quite understand you, Master Jason. Care you explain the reasoning behind your statement?”

Oh for God’s sa—

Throwing the pillow he’d been nervously fluffing as a way to hype himself for this conversation back on the couch, Jason turned on Alfred and crossed his arms as to avoid flailing them around in rage. “You avoid Dick, you avoid Tim, you hide away at your little hidey–hole of the Manor and you barely say anything meaningful to me. It’s obvious you don’t want to be here. It’s obvious as fuck you want to go chasing after B, so why don’t you save us all the fucking heart crushing disappointment as just go already!” By the end he was shouting.

He hadn’t meant to.

But he was so sick of this shit. Sick of Alfred tip-toeing around his dislike for them. Sick of trying to keep Dick afloat and Tim alive and Damian a kid and Duke in one piece and he was so fucking sick of it. If Alfie loved Bruce so much he should stop being such a coward and just say it.

“Oh Jason.” Alfred had paled significantly while Jason was stuck in his own head. Swaying in place and blindly reaching for the nearest wall to stabilize himself. Jason lunged forward to help but a raised hand from the butler froze him in place. “No,” the old man said, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t. I’m fine. I'm…. Oh dear. What have I—” hand covering his eyes, Alfred shook in place and Jason could do nothing but stare.

“Alfie?”

He felt so confused and scared.

Alfred Pennyworth should never look so small.

“I have let you children down,” the butler finally spoke up, voice only a little bit steadier now. Jason didn’t know what to say. “I thought….. This is all my fault.” Alfred for once looked every bit his age and that more than anything made Jason want to curl up into a ball and hide from the world. “An old man’s guilt,” Alfred laughed drily. “Once again it is I breaking this family apart. I am truly sorry Jason. I am so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand anything.

Alfred wasn’t supposed to be…. He wasn’t supposed to look so devested. Not Alfred.

Letting his arm go slack, Alfred finally lifted his head and looked at him; the tears brimming at the corners of his eyes nearly made Jason scramble back. “I was the one who told Master Bruce about young Master Tim’s unfortunate accident,” the butler said lowly, the shame in his voice stabbing. “I assumed….I expected Master Bruce to react with compassion, with understanding. I raised him better than….and then he left,” there was a significant pause. A broken little pause filled with sadness and anguish and God, Jason didn’t sign up for this. How did one even deal with this with……"He left you children and he broke Master Richard’s heart, abandoned Damian and….Timothy, poor child only needed acceptance and yet….he left. He left all of you and I raised him better.“

When Alfred’s knees buckled under him, Jason barely managed to catch him in time. "It’s okay,” he found himself whispering, frantic, scared, unsure of what he was supposed to do. “It’s okay Alfie.”

But Alfred was deaf to his reassurances. Just grief stricken and disappointed and heartbroken. “How could I look Richard and Timothy in the eyes when it is I who made their father abandon them in the hour they needed him to show compassion. How can I…..” digging his nails into Jason’s shoulders, Alfred sobbed drily and Jason couldn’t help the helpless tears that cascaded down his own cheeks. “I was wrong. I miscalculated and I was wrong, Jason. I assumed the best of Master Bruce and I was wrong.” Forehead colliding with his chest Alfred shook. “I was wrong.”

'Please,’Jason thought, rocking them back and forth, knees aching against the cold floor where he’d curled around his grandfather in a needless way of protecting him against his own crushing grief. ’Please stop crying. Please please please.’

Jason held him. Held him as tight as he could and listened to Alfred cry and he wondered if they’d ever be okay again.

——————–

The next night he found Dick sleeping in front of Tim’s door again and it was all he could do not to burst into tears again.

Instead he shook his brother’s shoulder gently, brushed his hair out of his bleary eyes and led him back to his own room. And when Dick grabbed his hand, looked at him with eyes so tired and gaze so haunted and asked him softly enough for his words to be carried away by the wind if Jason’s hadn’t been listening carefully. “Tim?”

Jason squeezed his hand tightly between both of his and nodded once, afraid to say something in case his voice failed him. And he climbed in next to his older brother and held him. Just held him as Dick Greyson was taking in by sleep’s waiting embrace because Goldie was so freaking exhausted. And Dick couldn’t fight it for long even as he muttered protest after protest. Muttering about Tim even as sleep brought him to the dreamland.

And when he was dead to the world, Jason untangled himself, shoved the little guilt that blossomed in his heart for abandoning Dick to the side; especially when his brother sought him out on the bed with confused mumbles in his sleep. He walked the couple of steps it took to reach Tim’s bedroom and sat down by the door, folded his knees under him, rested his head atop of his arms and prepared himself to await the morning sun to greet the Wayne Manor one more day.

They’ll be okay. They had to be.

And tomorrow would bring another day to make things right and Alfred would finally talk to Dick and Tim, and maybe Damian would be a little less grumbly at the return of some normalcy. Maybe Cass would stop running and come back home. Maybe Stephanie’s visits would be less infrequent and maybe Duke would stop faking smiles and genuinely start being happy again.

So many maybes. But there was some hope still left and Jason chose to cling to it for dear as he sat there, all alone, keeping Dick’s promise to Tim as he kept his own promise to his own older brother.

He would stay.

For as long as they needed him, he would stay.

Chapter:1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6