The Reds And The Robins

4) Pride And... Well, Tim Drake's Stubborn Enough To Be Prejudice, Right?

"So, Mr- Todd?" Mr Branstorm asked. Jason grinned easily, tousling a hand through his hair. "Weren't you dead? Bruce Wayne donated a new library because you died, I swear-"

"Well, between you and me is it not the power of a good narrative to perpetuate life and moreover allow belief in liberty?" Jason asked flippantly in his Crime Alley drawl. Tim wrinkled his nose, making a gesture to tone it down. Meanwhile, Branstorm began to tear up. One may make the mistake of believing this is because there was a dead man in front of him, but this assumes Branstorm had the range of emotions to tear up at anything other than a fantastic point or essay. "Indeed, indeed. You're here with Mr Drake?"
"Yeah, I mean, he's under the temporary custody of Bruce while his parents are away - archaeologists, right? So close to historians, and yet..."
"And yet. Very well. Are you, you haven't been talking to Tim for very long, have you?"
"Why?"
"Because he's appalling at English and if you were around that wouldn't have been permitted, correct?" Tim gasped, gaping like a fish as Jason looked at the kid.
"I haven't read his work, but he can't be much worse than me when I first started. I mean, I came into this school having not been educated for three years, so..."

Branstorm hummed in a manner that suggested this impression was false. Jason glanced at Tim again. "Well, we can't all be actually gifted. Tim's very good at science." Jason defended weakly, feeling a little sick. "And STEM does pay well..."
"STEM does not require skill." Branstorm sniffed derisively.
"Hang on a minute..." Tim said. "I also speak five languages at the moment, and I'm averaging six A stars on my worst days-"
"Hopefully you speak those four other languages more proficiently than English."
"Hopefully you speak bitc-" Tim snapped, before Jason shoved a hand over his mouth. "So sorry, sir, he didn't mean that."
"No need for you to call me sir, Jason, I won't have it. You're one of the best students to grace the walls of this academy."
"Well, Tim's very clever, if a bit confused by the large array of subjects-"
"This confusion is synonymous with idiocy, I'm afraid."
"Can you say that?" Tim asked.
"Yes." Branstorm said. "Tenure does things to a man."
"Sir, you're literally acting akin to Ozymandias right now, I hate to tell you." Jason said, words accented by the Alley's dialect. He found it funny, in a way, that he was well-spoken enough to subvert the classic expectations that walked hand in hand with the Alley's population. Branstorm had never had an issue with it, for all his faults, had even given Jason a distinction on his Spoken Language assessment. It had resulted in Branstorm becoming his favourite teacher. The uppity school had been too uppity for Jason's drawl, generally, and Branstorm was one of the few who hadn't immediately began talking to him like he was stupid.

"Well, in that case..."
"I'll try and improve Tim, sir." Jason said apologetically.
"I know you will, of course, but failure would not rest in either of our courts."
"Indeed. Ah, crap, we've had like fifteen minutes, you have other appointments."
"You being here is a miracle, Todd. It can take ten minutes extra."
"Yeah. Anyway. Thanks for your time." Jason said, slinging a hand into his pocket as he tucked a chair in with his foot. He placed the other hand on Tim's shoulder, pulling the kid in closer and leaving the office. "Batburger?" He offered, and Tim nodded so he revved up his bike, handed Tim a helmet and set off. He found himself outside the familiar haunt that was once his and Dick's. Now, however, it could be Tim's as well, and Damian's in time.

He checked his phone, mostly for Damian's sake. Three texts, spaced twenty minutes apart, all read Checking in. In neat Damian speech this was a way to inform Jason he was still alive and safe. It would likely be called unhealthy by most therapists, but the leftover from their League days did help Jason not to worry and any therapists in Gotham were not ones Jason wished to speak to, so he ignored the issue. He thumbs up-ped the messages. Be back in ten or so, you want any Batburger?

What is this Batburger?

Food. I'll get you a little something.

Thank you, Todd.

Jason, smiling, picked up a Red Hood chicken with fries (Jokerized) for him, the Poison Ivy Veggie Burger for Damian and Tim adorably ordered the Nightwing Mozzarella Sticks. (Dick had kept the order from when Jason said he was built like string cheese. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.) After a glare from Jason, the kid got a Red Robin burger as well. "If you make me feel like Dick again, I'm breaking into his house and getting him to fucking let you move in, understood?
"Understood." Tim saluted, grabbing the receipt from the machine. "We're 91."
"Cool. Sick. Swag. God, I'm fuckin old." Jason said. Tim's silence was almost worse than if he had agreed.

"91!" An employee eventually called, and Jason and Tim picked up the takeaway order and hauled themselves back to the bike. "Hold on, kid." Jason said, cursing the cliché and swiftly revving the engine up to return home. There were a few calls closer than he'd prefer after he started doing a wheely and regaining his Cool Big Brother title, but it was worth it and hey! No harm, no foul. And then, and then.

He unlocked the door and stared at his living room, where fucking Dick Grayson stood.

"Tim, is he your fault?"
"Not to my knowledge, but he might've followed."
"Get in." Jason said, nudging Tim through the door and shutting it. "Grayson, climb out the window we both know you came through."

Dick had the audacity to blink. "Well, actually, I've been meeting my nephew." He grinned, and it's then that Jason's eyes land on Damian. The kid was behind Grayson with a knife in hand, good lad. "Where's his sword?"
"Well, there was a brief moment where it was awful close to my abdomen, so I removed it." Classic Damian, the kid still looked a second away from stabbing Nightwing (presumably after Nightwing demonstrated the capacity to wrestle a sword away from him, Damian stopped actively trying to kill the guy.)
"It's somewhere he can't reach, isn't it?" Jason said, eyeing Damian who was still hissing.
"Yeah, on the fridge."
"You're a tall prick, Dick Grayson, get out of my home."
"But then I wouldn't feel indebted to you." Dick said with a smile. The bastard was conniving only when it came to Family Matters. (well, with the notable eception of Family Getting Beaten To Death With Crowbars, but who's counting that?)
"You let me die and didn't attend the funeral." Jason scoffed. "Don't tell Bruce. How did you find us?"
"Well, Tim's been disappearing. And I was gonna leave it, haven't quite got to the investigating each other's lives stage of the relationship, but then I notice he has to meet his English teacher. Now, Janet Drake ain't showing up to that crap, so... I may have stalked on the CCTV. And then I notice you, and I got my ex-girlfriend to find out where you were because you're my little brother."

"Good news, Tim." Jason scoffed. "I'm not becoming Dick, he's so much more batshit than I remembered."