Chapter Text
Jason Todd was the only human in Wayne Manor.
Usually, this was fine, useful, even, because if there was one thing Jason had learned since being adopted by a billionaire werewolf and gaining a werewolf older brother, a vampire little brother, and a butler who was technically human but also possibly older than civilisation, it was that supernatural people were very dramatic about things humans had been managing perfectly well for centuries.
Like food, and emotions, and doors, and beds, and weather. And… well, pretty much anything and everything, really.
Werewolves were weird. Vampires too.
Jason loved them.
He loved them, and they loved him back, and they had told him a hundred times that he was family. Pack, actually, because pack, according to Dick and Bruce, wasn't about species, or whether Jason could turn into a wolf the size of a small horse when emotionally inconvenienced, no matter what the dumb supernatural community said.
But sometimes… sometimes Jason felt left out.
It was as simple as that.
Technically, Alfred was human too. But he… didn’t really count in the same way Jason did. He had his strange Alfred-powers that none of them really understood, including Alfred himself. Also, Jason was fairly certain he was slowly becoming one with the house spirits, no matter how much Dick ridiculed him for his theory. But that was a whole other thing.
Sometimes Jason felt lonely, and human down to the bone. He was human; just human. And not only that, but a child too in their eyes, even though he was fourteen now, and growing fast.
God, even Tim saw him as a child, which was just straight up offensive because Tim was an actual baby, but Jason guessed that when you compared the lifespan of a vampire to a human, it made sense—a vampire’s lifespan being nonexistent, that is, they were functionally immortal after all, as far as Jason knew.
On an average day, Jason was usually fine with all this. He’d come to terms with being human long ago. Hell, being the only human was fun, sometimes. He didn’t have to worry about wayward instincts, or manage the hell that seemed to be scent-reading, or navigate the extra puberty that supernatural creatures had to go through when they grew up and came into themselves—or werewolves at least; Jason wasn’t sure that vampires had the same thing.
Still, there were moments when the others slipped into a language that Jason couldn’t understand, no matter how much research and instinct-mimicking he did. A language crafted from scent and ancient instinct and a whole host of strange noises. And, every time it happened, Jason could only stand there watching like someone stuck outside in the cold, watching through a window as they all conversed inside in the warmth.
Tonight was one of those nights.
Full moon was only a couple of days away, and Dick, as he always became before a full moon, had been extra grumpy and protective all day.
He spent the whole day prowling the manor, growling at dust floating through the air and pacing back and forth in front of Tim and Jason, whom he’d gathered halfway through the day despite Jason’s loud protesting—“Hey! Get off me, you smelly brute!”—and dumped in his bedroom, swaddled in blankets while the two of them blinked at him like he was insane.
Eventually, Bruce had come and rescued them, gently scruffing Dick and dragging him to his study while Dick protested loudly, whining the whole time.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Alfred was sick. Not badly, but enough that he was bedbound and sleeping away most of the days. He had been for a few days now, and he didn’t show any sign of improvement yet.
Yeah. Alfred was sick. Two days before full moon.
It was a miracle Dick hadn’t combusted yet.
Which was probably why Bruce had taken one look at Dick by the time evening rolled around, sighed, and almost cancelled their patrol tonight. Then he’d been tipped off by Gordon that the nest of ghouls who had been causing trouble for a while now had finally been located near the docks, and because Gotham was Gotham and could never have one peaceful night, Batman and Robin had gone out, even though both of them looked ready to bite off someone’s head.
Jason felt for any poor criminals who decided to try their luck against them tonight. It was not going to turn out well for them.
Dick hadn’t wanted to leave. Not so close to the full moon, when Tim was still such a new presence in the house, and, as far as he was concerned, they were leaving the two babies of the family unprotected, what with Alfred being sick and all.
Tim also hadn’t wanted him to leave, and it had been a whole thing.
Lots of clicking and rumbling and sad little vampire sounds and then more rumbling until, eventually, Dick had scented Tim into oblivion, leaving the little vampire fledgling floaty and pliable. Jason had subsequently managed to persuade Tim to leave the Cave and come back up to the manor, easily leading the dopey boy away.
Before Dick and Bruce had left, Bruce had pulled Jason aside, giving him a Concerned Bruce Look. “The wards are active.”
Jason had nodded.
“Alfred is upstairs if you need him.”
Jason had nodded again.
“If anything feels wrong—”
“I’ll call,” Jason had said.
Bruce had studied him with narrowed eyes. Jason watched his nostrils flare slightly and wondered what his scent was telling him.
“Seriously, B, it’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine. Jason was nervous. He and Tim had never been left effectively alone at the manor before, and Tim was going to be hell to deal with because Dick was leaving him behind.
Bruce’s nostrils flared again, and he sighed. He put one heavy hand on Jason’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
Jason tried not to lean into it.
He had maybe failed a little.
“It’ll be alright, Jay. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Jason nodded, trying to seem more confident than he felt.
Bruce briefly nuzzled his face against Jason’s head, and then headed off into the Cave.
Now, Jason and Tim were in the library. They’d been there ever since Bruce and Dick had left, an hour or two ago.
Jason was slumped in a beanbag by the fireplace with a fuzzy blanket thrown over his lap, reading a book.
Tim was sulking under a table by the window, swamped in the hoodie Dick had been wearing all day, making mournful clicking sounds every few seconds. Jason didn’t need to be able to speak his language to know that they were calling sounds. Calling sounds for Dick, specifically.
He’d tuned them out about an hour ago. At first, he’d tried comforting Tim, but he’d given that up pretty quickly after Tim snapped at him for all his efforts.
“Alright, fine!” Jason, annoyed, had snapped back after almost losing his fingers for the fifth time.
He bared his teeth at him when Tim hissed, which only made Tim hiss more.
“I know it sucks that Dick isn’t here. He’s your favourite, we get it—just—stop making those noises! It’s fuckin’ annoying!”
Briefly, Tim had fallen silent, frowning at him as his instinct-addled brain slowly processed Jason’s words. He was still slowly coming out of the floaty haze Dick had put him in earlier, and he wasn’t fully present yet; present enough to realise Dick wasn’t here, but not enough to speak like a normal person.
Jason wasn’t fully sure Tim was even understanding English yet, to be honest.
“Dick is gone, okay? He’ll be back later. There’s no point calling for him because he’s not coming.” Maybe Jason was being a little cruel, but Tim was annoying him. “Until then, you’ve got me, and you’ll have to make do.”
Tim had bared his fangs at him some more and sulkily turned his back on him, clicking noises starting up louder. He was probably doing it to annoy Jason on purpose. Tim was spiteful like that.
So, now Jason was reading, and Tim was still mournfully calling out, which is why Jason looked up when Tim suddenly fell quiet. “Tim?”
Tim had gone still under the table, back still turned to Jason, and he didn’t respond to the sound of his name.
Jason sat up, slowly lowering his book into his lap, attention suddenly entirely fixed on Tim’s small figure, curled up beneath the table.
“Tim?” he tried again, a few nerves slipping into his voice. “You alright?”
Still no response.
Jason stood. He wrapped his fuzzy blanket around his shoulders in a poor approximation of Bruce’s cape, and slowly approached. “Tim—hey, what’s wrong?”
Tim shuffled a little, peering out at Jason with one eye. He let out another stream of low, sad chitters and Jason’s shoulders dropped, all the tension flooding out of him, immediately replaced with irritation.
“Seriously?!” he spat. “Was that all just a ploy to get me to pay attention to you again?”
Tim shuffled some more, now blinking at him slowly with two cat-like eyes. He was encased in shadows beneath the table, so Jason could only see his eyes, shining in the low light, and a faint outline of his pale face.
Tim chittered again.
Click-click-click.
Jason groaned and turned away, blanket-cape dramatically swishing behind him, prepared to flop back into his beanbag and go back to ignoring Tim.
Then Tim let out an aggravated chittering-screech, followed by more mournful clicking.
Jason jumped about a half-foot in the air, dropping one side of his blanket-cape from shock. It fell to the floor, hanging only from one shoulder now.
He turned to glare at him. “You dick! Don’t—don’t do that.” He held a hand over his heart, which was pounding rapidly in his chest. “You scared me half to death.”
Tim blinked at him again from under the table. Then he croaked, “Dick?”
It seemed to take a lot of effort for him to get the word out.
Jason’s irritation grew stronger. “I already told you he’s not here right now!”
Tim sagged and chittered sadly again. Then he frowned, brows pulling together as he concentrated hard. “F’d?”
“Huh?”
Tim tried again, frowning even harder. “F’od?”
“Food?” Jason repeated. “You want food?”
Tim perked up, crawling a little out from under the table and chittering at him. Dick’s hoodie was so massive on him that he almost face-planted when the material caught under his knees and got stuck.
Jason didn’t speak vampire, but he took that as a yes.
He glanced at his phone. 1:07 am.
Oh.
Way past the time Tim usually ate.
A sour feeling of guilt bloomed deep within him. He’d been annoyed at Tim—upset with him even. Part of him still was. But he was still responsible for him, feelings of irritation aside. He should’ve checked on him sooner, should’ve made sure he had something to eat, regardless of whether he was annoyed with him. Tim was historically terrible at caring for himself, and even worse at asking for things he needed.
No wonder Dick was Tim’s favourite. He wouldn’t have forgotten to feed him. Dick would’ve instantly understood Tim’s noises, too, which probably made it easier to decipher his needs.
“Come on then,” Jason said roughly, instead of verbalising any of his other thoughts. “I’ll heat some blood for you.”
He dropped his blanket to the floor and turned, heading to the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder once to see if Tim was following him.
He was, a few steps behind, staring at his back with wide, owl-like eyes.
For a moment, the only sound between them was the soft pad of Tim’s feet against the floorboards and Jason’s own annoyed breathing. Then—
“Jay?”
Jason didn’t turn around. “What?”
Tim hesitated. Jason could hear it in the way his footsteps faltered, then hurried a little to catch up. A second later, he was walking beside him instead of behind him, shoulders hunched, sleeves pulled over his hands, Dick’s hoodie swallowing him whole.
He looked more like himself now. A little. His eyes were still too wide and too dark, and there was something strange and hungry in the way he was moving, but his face had shifted back into an expression that looked less like a feral little demon and more like Tim, Jason’s annoying little brother.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Tim said, voice rough, vibrating a little with suppressed clicking sounds.
Jason snorted. “Yeah, well, next time try using your words before you start making demon noises under the furniture.”
Tim clicked once, quiet and unhappy.
Jason’s jaw tightened. “Don’t do that.”
Tim’s shoulders pulled in a little, and he hesitated again. “Do… what?”
“That.” Jason waved a hand vaguely, irritated because he couldn’t explain it without sounding stupid and mean. “The clicking. The sad little—whatever. Your fuckin’ noises you make. I don’t know what it means, okay?”
Tim blinked at him.
“I can’t—I can’t figure out what you want like the others can when you do that, so it’s pointless.” Jason shoved his hands into the pockets of his pyjama bottoms and kept walking. “I don’t speak vampire, Count Weirdula.”
Tim was quiet for a second. Then, softly, he murmured, “That one means sorry.”
Jason stopped, heart dropping a little.
Tim stopped too, almost walking into him. He looked up at Jason from under the mess of his hair, eyes still shining faintly in the dark hallway.
Jason swallowed.
“Oh,” he said, more of that sour guilt unfurling within him. “Right.”
Tim clicked again, trilling softly.
“What does that one mean then?” Jason asked.
Tim hesitated, toeing one socked foot against the rug that ran the whole length of the hallway.
“Nothing.”
Jason’s chest tightened unpleasantly again, and his mood dipped further.
“Whatever.” He turned on his heel, starting toward the kitchen again. “Hurry up.”
The manor was strangely dark as they went, most of the lights off. It made it feel creepier than usual, and more empty. The only sounds were their footsteps and the faint sound of Jason’s breathing. He could barely see, and he wished he’d thought to bring his phone with him from the library so he could use the flashlight.
Tim suddenly grabbed Jason’s shoulder.
Jason flinched, letting out a small yelp, heart kicking up a notch. “Jesus!”
Tim let out a low stream of clicks.
“Whaddidja do that for?” Jason rushed out.
“You were going to walk into the suit of armour,” Tim said, voice quiet.
Jason blinked.
He looked ahead.
Sure enough, the vague dark shape he’d been confidently marching toward was, in fact, the stupid antique suit of armour Bruce kept at the end of the hallway for reasons Jason had never understood, and Alfred and Dick had never once explained.
Jason glared at it, feeling hot and embarrassed.
Tim could see in the dark. Jason couldn’t. He must’ve looked like a complete fool.
“Thanks,” Jason muttered, unable to keep the sourness out of his voice.
Tim quickly let go of him, another low chitter escaping.
They managed to reach the kitchen without any further incidents.
Jason flicked the light on, flooding the room with warm light. Tim winced and let out a low hiss, scrunching his eyes closed.
Shit.
“Shoot, sorry Nosfera-Tim,” Jason said, crossing the room to the small blood fridge they kept beside the regular one. “I should’ve warned you.”
Tim blinked a few times, adjusting to the new light level, then climbed up onto the counter, crossing his legs as he watched Jason. “S’okay.”
It wasn’t, really. Jason was being careless.
He opened the fridge, bending down slightly to see what was inside.
“Whaddya want?” he asked over his shoulder. “A neg? O pos? I think we probably have some of Dick’s left in here somewhe—”
He trailed off, eyes widening as he took in the empty shelves.
Shit. Shit.
How had this happened? They always kept the fridge stocked.
Dick and Bruce regularly had their blood drawn by Alfred, put into bags and stocked in the fridge. Not only that, but they had Tim signed up to the Vampire Donor Registry, so they got blood donations from there, and they even got blood from the private donor service Bruce paid an obscene amount of money for every month. Blood, delivered straight to your door on a weekly basis in fancy jars in a cool box. Kind of like milk, if milk was a medical biohazard and came with three pages of consent forms every time it got delivered.
The point was, there should be no universe in which Tim’s blood fridge didn’t contain any blood.
Except, somehow, because the universe hated Jason, it was empty.
“Jason?” Tim inquired from behind him, voice vibrating with another round of low clicks. “Wha’s wrong?”
Jason blinked at the empty shelves, willing blood bags to materialise through sheer force of panic.
Nothing happened.
Of course nothing happened. Jason was human, and humans did not get helpful blood-summoning powers. That would have been too convenient.
“This is fine,” he muttered to himself, trying to ignore his accelerated heartbeat. “This is fine.”
Did this constitute an emergency? Was this the sort of thing he should call Bruce about?
“Wha’s fine?” Tim asked, voice a little slurred. “Jay?”
He shifted a little on the counter, like he was going to climb down to investigate whatever was making Jason act strange.
Jason slammed the fridge closed and spun to face Tim, resting one elbow on top of it, faux casual.
“So, Tiny Timmy—Count Snackula,” he said with forced cheer. “We have a bit of a situation.”
“Situation?” Tim repeated, brows furrowing.
“It would appear that we have no blood.”
Tim froze, blinking at him with wide, cat-like eyes. His pupils were tiny in the brightly lit room.
“What?” he whispered.
He let out a series of distressed clicking sounds, and Jason winced, feeling like the worst big brother ever.
“Fridge is empty.” Jason rapped his knuckles on the top of it. “I—uh… I can raid the blood bags in the Cave. C’mon, let’s—”
Tim shook his head, little face fixed in a frown. “No, no, s’okay. Dick and Bruce need those.”
Now it was Jason’s turn to frown. “Tim, you gotta eat. They’ll get replacements, it’s fine.”
Tim shook his head again, expression growing distressed. “No.”
His tone had gone whiny, and Jason could tell immediately that this wasn’t an argument he was going to win.
“Fine.” He crossed the room, coming to a stop next to Tim, leaning on the counter next to him. “What’s your genius plan then?”
“I’ll…” Tim blinked at him, frown deepening as he struggled to come up with something. “I’ll just wait for Dick to get home.”
Jason raised a brow, watching him.
Tim was already hungry. He could tell.
“That could be hours from now, Tim,” Jason told him, hopping onto the chair next to where Tim was sitting.
Tim clicked sadly and sniffed, suddenly looking like he might cry.
Jason’s chest squeezed as he watched him. Tim looked so… small, curled up on the counter like that. And he was so sad, and stressed, and he…
“Come here,” Jason said, opening his arms.
Tim blinked at him for a second. Then he threw himself at him, chittering.
Jason caught him, barely, and the force of Tim colliding with his chest sent the chair he was sitting in spinning, and forced an oomph of air out of his lungs. Tim sniffled into his chest and then buried his face in the crook of Jason’s neck, chittering sadly and nuzzling his nose against his skin.
He was cold, as usual, and the touch of his nose made Jason flinch. Not because he thought Tim was going to hurt him, or even try to bite him, but because the temperature difference always shocked him.
Tim was colder than usual because he hadn’t fed. Jason glanced at the clock above the kitchen door as he gently scratched at Tim’s scalp. Their chair was still slowly spinning in circles around the kitchen, and he had to crane his neck awkwardly to see the time as the chair twisted away.
1:15 am.
It must’ve been at least fourteen hours since Tim last ate. No wonder he felt like an ice cube in Jason’s arms.
Tim sniffled some more, and Jason felt his skin start to grow wet where Tim’s face was pressed against him.
Jason wished he could make comforting wolf-like noises like Dick and Bruce could. Tim always responded well to those. It was because he was a fledgling, Jason knew.
He liked to research, and since Tim had joined the family, he’d been heavily researching vampires. Mostly because Jason was curious by nature, and he liked to know things. But also because Tim was his little brother now, and his presence came with a whole load of new behaviours that Jason didn’t understand. But he wanted to. That’s why he’d been researching it. Jason had lived with Dick and Bruce long enough now that he had a pretty good grasp on werewolf behaviours. But vampire behaviour was a whole new ballpark.
It turned out that Bruce’s books on vampires were old and dramatic and full of unhelpful phrases like ‘the hunger of the blood-soul’ and ‘the night-child’s lament,’ which made Jason want to start throwing things. But they had contained some helpful information about fledgling vampire behaviours.
Things like what certain feeding behaviours meant, and why Tim sometimes went all glassy-eyed and bitey when he got too hungry, and what sort of noises vampire fledglings responded to when they were upset.
Which is why Jason knew that Tim responded well to Dick when he rumbled, not only because the two were bonded, but because the rumbling triggered the part of Tim’s brain that recognised low, steady predator-sounds as safety, because it meant there was someone nearby who could protect him.
Or, well. The book had called it something stupid like ‘nocturnal kinship resonance,’ but Jason was pretty sure that was just a fancy way of saying vampire fledglings were tiny, bitey idiots who liked being reminded something bigger and meaner than them was nearby and on their side.
Apparently, fledgling vampires had terrible self-regulation, because they were usually raised in nests with a whole host of other vampires around to do it for them through a wide variety of vampire-sounds and behaviours.
Unfortunately for Tim—and Jason—right now, Jason was the only thing bigger and meaner than Tim was, and he wasn’t all that big and mean. He was only human, and he couldn’t make any vampire sounds. Or wolf sounds.
But… he could try.
Tim let out another miserable little clicking sound against his neck, cold fingers twisting into the back of Jason’s shirt.
Jason swallowed.
Slowly, he rubbed his cheek across the top of Tim’s head like Bruce and Dick did when they were scenting someone. Then, feeling like the biggest idiot alive, he carefully clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a soft, awkward little pattern.
Tim jolted, head snapping away from Jason’s neck to stare at him with wide eyes so fast he almost headbutted him. His face had tear tracks down it.
Jason froze.
His face flamed bright red.
“Right,” he said quickly, mortified down to the bone. “Okay. Never mind. That was stupid. Forget I—”
Tim clicked back, high-pitched and inquisitive.
Click-click-click.
Jason paused.
Tim made the sound again, quieter this time, the rhythm a little uneven through his sniffles.
Click-click. Click.
Jason stared at him, surprised.
Oh.
Slowly, cautiously, he tried again, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth faster and twisting his mouth slightly to one side.
His version sounded terrible. He knew it sounded terrible. It sounded like a human boy trying to speak a language his mouth wasn’t built for, because that was exactly what he was.
Tim’s pupils blew wide, black swallowing his pale irises, and he let out a rapid stream of clicks.
Click-click. Click. Click-click-click-click.
Then Tim let out a tiny trill and shoved his face back into the crook of Jason’s neck, nuzzling at him hard with sudden frantic affection.
Jason let out a strangled sound as Tim’s cold nose dragged against his skin, almost dropping him from the enthusiastic way in which Tim was suddenly showering him with affection.
“Okay!” he yelped. “Okay, alright, jeez—”
Tim clicked rapidly, little hands clutching at him, then pressed even closer, practically trying to burrow through Jason’s collarbone.
“Jesus, Tim, chill out for a second—”
Click-click-click-click. Click-click. Click-click-click-click.
Nope. Tim was gone.
Okay, so. Good news: Tim had stopped crying. Bad news: he was currently trying to burrow into Jason’s skin, apparently.
Jesus. What sound had Jason made? He’d been trying to replicate the parental-comfort sounds he’d read about. He wasn’t sure if Tim’s response meant he’d successfully done so, or if he’d accidentally activated some strange instinctual cuddling mode.
“Tim—” Jason tried to shift Tim’s weight a little in his lap, because they were starting to tilt dangerously to the left. “Careful, you gotta move, or we’re going to—”
Tim chose that moment to chirp and nuzzle him even harder, which unbalanced them. Jason yelped, and they tumbled off the chair, landing on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Tim landed on top of him, Jason cushioning the fall with his body.
“Fall,” Jason finished, groaning, letting his head thunk back against the tile.
Tim chirped and made himself comfortable on his chest.
“Yeah, great, you just settle in, Tim, that’s fine.”
Tim looked up, resting his chin on Jason’s chest. His eyes were still almost entirely black. Then he winced and let out a small whimper, curling up and holding his stomach.
Ah.
He was still hungry.
Jason sat up, and Tim let out a low grumble of annoyance as he slid down Jason’s chest and landed in his lap instead, turning his head to give him an irritated stare.
“Don’t look at me like that, Lestat de Lioncourt,” Jason muttered, shrugging off half his hoodie so that one of his arms was free and the rest of the hoodie material was bunched up around his neck.
Tim blinked at him, confused.
“Not when I’m about to feed you.”
Tim froze.
Jason paused too, looking away from his task to look at Tim.
Then Tim launched himself across the kitchen, as far away from Jason as he could get.
“Hey!” Jason tried to grab for his ankle, but Tim possessed unnatural vampiric speed and easily dodged him. “You little—come here!”
What followed was a chase around the kitchen, in which Jason crawled after Tim on the floor, trying to grab onto him while Tim dodged and clicked loudly, weaving under, over, and around furniture. It was like a scene straight out of a cartoon.
“Stop—Tim!”
“No!” Tim yelled back, then hissed at him, dodging another attempt to grab him.
“Stop running away!”
Tim screeched at him.
Jason faltered, then screeched back.
Tim dodged behind a chair and then pushed it so it toppled over onto Jason.
“Fuck—ow, Tim! That hurt!” Jason pushed the chair off him, glaring at the little vampire currently sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor.
Tim faltered, staring at him with wide, guilty eyes.
Jason seized his chance, launching himself at him.
Tim yelped and dodged again, darting onto the kitchen counter like an agile cat.
Jason landed face-first on the empty spot of tile where Tim had been. He rolled, popping up next to Tim. “Just let me feed you!”
“No!” Tim yelled again, then threw himself at the fridge and tucked himself in the small gap at the top of it—the non-blood one, the one that the rest of them used for food.
Jason skidded to a halt, glaring at Tim with his hands on his hips.
Tim chittered at him, and Jason didn’t need to be able to speak vampire to know that he was telling him to fuck off.
Okay. He probably wasn’t telling him to fuck off, exactly. But the message was clear. Go away.
“Tim. Get down here right now.”
Tim hissed at him. “No!”
“What is your problem?”
Tim hissed at him again, fangs fully exposed.
Jason bared his teeth back at him, then tried jumping and grabbing Tim’s ankle. His fingers just barely brushed the top of the fridge, but Tim was still out of reach.
He gave up, panting from the exertion of the chase.
“Ugh.” Jason flopped back onto the floor, fully shrugging off his hoodie because he was all warm and sweaty now. “Don’t know why I bother. Starve then.”
Tim hissed quietly at him, eyes flashing in the dark shadows above the fridge.
“Seriously. You feed from Dick, why not me?”
“Because,” Tim muttered, looking away shiftily.
Jason sat up, glaring at him. “Because I’m human?”
Tim stayed quiet, not even blinking as he stared at Jason from his spot on the fridge.
So that was a yes then.
Great.
Jason’s chest went tight again, expression souring. “Right.”
He climbed to his feet and turned on his heel, planning on walking away.
Tim suddenly chirped softly. Jason recognised the sound. It was the same one he used on Dick when he was trying to get him to come to him.
He paused, and Tim made the sound again.
“What?” Jason spat, turning around again. “You don’t want the blood from the Cave, you don’t want to feed from me, so what do you want, Tim?”
Tim hesitated.
“D—”
Jason threw his hands in the air and let out a frustrated yell. “I know you want Dick, but he ain’t here, Tim, and I can’t magically make him appear.”
“I get it, okay,” he continued, voice breaking a bit. “I do. Dick is great, of course you want him—everyone wants Dick. He’s Dick. He’s funny and he’s nice and he knows all the weird supernatural stuff because he just—he just does. He knows when you’re hungry before you know you’re hungry, and he knows what all your stupid little noises mean, and he can make everything better by rumbling at you like some sort of stupid motorcycle.”
Tim blinked at him from the top of the fridge, like he was surprised.
Jason ignored him.
“And he would never forget to feed you, or let the blood run out, and you’d have no problem feeding from him, because he’s Dick and he’s a werewolf, and he can turn into a giant murder-dog if anyone looks at you wrong, and he always knows what to do, and everyone loves him because of course they do—”
Jason suddenly cut himself off, dragging in a shaky breath. His throat hurt, burning hot. His eyes had gone a little blurry.
Tim had gone very, very still, peering at him with wide eyes.
Jason looked away, jaw tense, and rubbed a rough hand across his eyes.
“He’s Dick,” he muttered, quieter now. “I know he’s your favourite, okay? You don’t have to—you don’t have to rub it in. He’s your favourite, and that’s fine. You guys have your weird little bond, and I can’t compare and—I know he’s probably everyone’s favourite. It’s—”
“That’s not true,” Tim whispered, cutting him off.
Jason laughed once, short and a little ugly-sounding. “Don’t lie to me.”
Tim flinched and let out a small, sad sound.
Jason regretted snapping immediately, which only made him angrier, because apparently he couldn’t even have a breakdown properly without feeling bad about it, because it was making Tim sad.
God. Everything was about Tim these days. Tim and Dick. Dick and Tim. There was no room for Jason or what he wanted anymore.
“I’m not stupid, Tim,” he snapped. “I know what I am. I’m not a werewolf or a vampire. I don’t have magic blood or magic instincts or magic noises that make everything better. I can’t hear your heartbeat from another room and I can’t smell when you’re sad. I can’t even walk down a hallway in the dark without nearly breaking my nose on Bruce’s stupid armour.”
Tim’s face crumpled slightly.
Jason’s voice broke.
“I’m just human,” he whispered. “So, yeah. I get it if that’s not good enough. I just—I didn’t need you to point it out, okay?”
For a second, the kitchen was painfully quiet.
Then Tim whispered, “Jay.”
Jason looked down at the floor.
“No, it’s fine,” he said, even though it very clearly wasn’t. “You don’t have to say anything. Just—just stay up there, I guess. Wait for Dick. He’ll be home eventually.”
He turned to leave, feeling awful.
“Jay!” Tim called out again, trilling loudly.
Jason winced, but kept walking.
Tim trilled loudly again, clearly trying to get him to come back, but Jason ignored him. He stepped out into the dark hallway, planning on retreating to the library again. Or maybe his room, if he wanted to avoid Tim for real.
Behind him, there was a small scuff of feet as Tim jumped off the fridge, followed by a low click-click. That was all the warning he got before a small body collided hard with his back, sending him tumbling to the floor.
Jason yelped, twisting, heart automatically leaping into his throat.
Tim landed on top of him, chittering agitatedly in his face, fangs exposed. His eyes flashed in the low light of the hallway, reflecting like catseyes.
Tim slammed his hands down on both of Jason’s shoulders, pinning him easily, nails scraping quietly against the wooden floor by his ears. Jason struggled for all of ten seconds before freezing, heart pounding in his throat as he realised he was properly trapped.
Tim’s nose flared and then scrunched up. He shook his head, like he was trying to get rid of a bad smell.
“Jay, Jason,” Tim said, and now he sounded pissed. “You’re—you’re stupid.”
Jason blinked, temporarily caught off guard.
Tim clicked again, agitated. “Stop—stop smelling like—”
He broke off into chittering again, then leaned down and nosed at Jason’s neck.
Jason’s heart skipped a beat, and he tried to pull away, but Tim kept him firmly in place. God. He was stuck—he was stuck. Trapped by a vampire who only came up to his chest.
Tim never usually used his vampire strength when they play-fought, or even when they actually fought. Dick was the same. They were always so… so gentle with him. Because he was human. And weak. And they all knew it, even if no one said it out loud.
But Tim was using his strength now, and Jason realised for the first time how truly powerless he was.
His breath started to come a little faster.
Tim let out a small whine and rubbed his cold nose along his neck. “Stop—smell bad.”
He let out more clicking sounds, pitched high. He kept rubbing his nose on Jason’s throat.
“T-Tim.” Jason tried to keep his voice steady. “Get off. Get off.”
Tim listened, releasing him and backing off immediately. He sat opposite Jason, crossing his legs and blinking at him.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Jason stayed where he was on the floor, breathing too fast, one hand pressed flat against the wood beneath him.
Tim sat opposite him with his legs crossed, hands tucked into the sleeves of Dick’s hoodie, eyes enormous and black and fixed on Jason’s face.
“Jay,” Tim whispered.
Jason swallowed. His throat felt tight. “You scared me.”
Tim flinched. He looked horrified.
Good, Jason thought meanly. Then immediately felt awful.
For a second, he thought Tim might bolt again. Instead, he curled in on himself, shoulders hunched up around his ears.
“Sorry,” he said, very small.
Jason dragged in another breath. Then another. His heart was still hammering hard enough that Tim had to be able to hear it, which was embarrassing and probably also the reason Tim kept making that miserable little face.
“You can’t do that,” Jason said, voice rough. “You—you can’t just—pin me like that.”
Tim’s expression crumpled.
“I know,” he whispered. “I know. I didn’t mean—you kept walking away a-and your smell got bad.” His eyes, still shining in the dark of the hallway, started to water, the tears clear at first before slowly clouding pink. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to, didn’t, didn’t—”
He let out a small sobbing noise, drawing his knees up to his chest.
Ah shit.
Ah shit.
Jason sat up, heart still pounding. “Tim, hey Tim, it’s—”
“Didn’t mean—” click, “didn’t mean—didn’t—” click-click, “didn’t—” Tim was already spiralling too hard to hear him.
“Tim,” Jason said with more force, shuffling closer.
Tim’s tears were streaming down his face, pink slowly giving way to red.
Fuck. That really wasn’t a good sign. Baby vampires cried regular human-like tears normally. Unless something was really wrong. Like if they were really scared, or hungry.
“Timmy,” Jason tried, edging even closer. His sour feelings and fear were mostly gone now, smothered by concern. He pulled Tim into a tight hug. “Stop—stop. You’re—I’m fine. We’re both fine.”
Tim sniffed hard and then broke into a fresh round of tears, little body shaking against Jason’s chest. “Sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry.”
“Stop apologising, you idiot.” Jason shook him gently, ruffling one hand through Tim’s hair. “You’re being dumb.”
Tim sniffed hard again and then muttered, “No, you’re being dumb.”
“Big talk from the crybaby clinging to me,” Jason teased gently.
Tim let out a small indignant noise. “I’m not a crybaby! And I’m not clinging!”
But he didn’t make any move to detach himself from Jason. If anything, he just clung harder, tucking his head beneath his chin.
“Uh huh.” Jason grinned, wiping at Tim’s face, unbothered by the blood-tinged tears that smeared across his hands. “Sure. And my name is Batman.”
“You wish,” Tim muttered. His cheeks were pink from Jason wiping away his tears.
“Nah,” Jason said. “Robin is way cooler.”
Tim sighed. “Yeah…”
There was a moment of quiet. Tim was still tucked tightly in Jason’s arms, half in his lap, half off.
“Alright, baby bat,” Jason said eventually. “As long as you promise not to pin me like that again, I got a solution to our problem.”
Tim slowly tilted his head up and blinked at him, a tad suspiciously. “What solution?”
Jason shifted him slightly, looking back toward the kitchen. “There’s knives in the block. I can cut my arm or somethin’, drain a little into a cup—”
“No.”
Jason paused, deflating slightly. “You didn’t even let me finish.”
“No,” Tim repeated, pulling back enough to glare at him. His eyes were still wet and faintly pink. “You’re not cutting yourself.”
Jason scoffed. “Pff. It’d barely be a cut.”
“No.” Tim frowned, clearly agitated. “You’d—it’d hurt. And you’d bleed.”
Jason stared at him. “That is generally the point, Tim.”
Tim made a distressed clicking noise and grabbed Jason’s wrist, clutching it against his chest like Jason might start hacking at himself with his non-existent knife the second he let go.
He shook his head, firm. “No.”
“Oh, but biting me is somehow better?”
Tim’s face twisted and his hand spasmed around Jason’s wrist. “I wouldn’t—I don’t have to bite hard.”
“Your teeth are literally designed to puncture arteries.”
“I wouldn’t bite an artery!”
Jason let out a small laugh. “Good, I don’t want to die.”
“You—” Tim let out a small panicked noise. “Well, I’m not feeding from you anyway, so this is all dumb!”
“Why not?” Jason asked, some of that earlier resentment making an appearance. “You—I don’t get it, you’re a vampire, Tiny Tim, you’re supposed to want—”
“Not from you!” Tim suddenly snapped, jerking away. Jason caught lightly at the sleeve of Dick’s hoodie before he could scramble to his feet. “You—I could—I hurt—I’ll hurt you.”
Jason scoffed. “Yeah? Cos I’m human, right? So I’m breakable?”
“Yes!” Tim snapped, glaring at him. His fangs were pressing into his lips. “You—you can’t heal—you, I’ll—I’ve hurt humans before!”
Jason blinked, taken aback. “What?”
Tim blinked too, frowning, just as surprised at his words as Jason was.
“You’ve hurt people, Tim?” Jason asked softly when Tim didn’t elaborate, heart picking up again.
“No, I, I…” Tim trailed off, frowning. He let out a quiet distressed noise. “I… I don’t know. I don’t, don’t remember.”
Jason stared, eyes wide. Tim didn’t—Tim didn’t remember his life before living on the streets. And while living on the streets, he’d survived mostly on stolen hospital blood, entirely avoiding direct feeding despite the handful of vampire-friendly services Gotham had. He’d never hurt anyone, never could hurt anyone. Jason was sure of it. Tim had cried when they found a dead bird in the garden last week, killed and half-eaten by a fox. There was just… there was no way.
“Tim,” Jason tried soothing him. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt anyone. Whatever you remember—or think you remember—you’re not going to hurt me.”
“I did,” Tim insisted, certain. He clicked again, distressed. “I did. I hurt humans, Jason, I hurt, I—I hurt them.”
“How’d you know?” Jason challenged, shuffling a little closer to Tim again. “You didn’t hurt anyone on the streets, Tim, and you don’t remember anything before that. So how could you have hurt anyone? You’re just… stressed.”
“No, I don’t—I don’t remember it, but I know!” Tim insisted, clicking frantically. “I know I did. I hurt them, Jason. I hurt them.”
Jason froze.
Fuck. This was a Dick Situation. Or a Bruce Situation. An Anyone But Jason Situation.
Unfortunately, Jason was the only one here; his phone was still abandoned up in the library, and Alfred was several floors away, in a whole different wing of the manor.
“Okay,” Jason said. “But that was then, and this is now. You’re not going to hurt me. I know you’re not.”
“No you don’t!” Tim snapped, gnashing his teeth at him. “You—you’re being an idiot, Jay. I just told you—”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jason muttered.
Then he launched himself at Tim.
Tim let out a startled screech as Jason collided with him, knocking them both sideways across the hallway floor. Jason grabbed at his shoulders, trying to wrestle him down. They rolled into a decorative plinth and made the statue on top wobble dangerously.
“What are you doing?” Tim yelped, hands scrabbling weakly at Jason’s chest without any real intent to push him off.
“Proving a point.”
“You’re—you’re being insane! Get off!”
Jason grinned down at him, finally managing to pin Tim’s arms. “Make me, baby bat.”
“N-no.”
Jason raised a brow. “Fine, guess I’ll just have to…”
He started tickling him.
Tim yelped and then twisted beneath him. Jason suddenly found himself tipped sideways, his back meeting the floor with a soft thump. Tim caught the back of his head before it could hit the wood, one cold hand cupped carefully beneath his skull.
Jason froze.
Tim froze too, hovering above him with wide eyes.
Jason grinned. “You’re gonna hurt me, right?”
Tim scowled and released him. “That—that doesn’t count.”
“No?” Jason raised an eyebrow. “Alright then…”
He bucked Tim off, sending him stumbling back. He was on his feet in a second, shoving at Tim again.
Tim darted out of reach before Jason could grab him, moving fast enough that he blurred into the shadows. Jason lunged again, swinging one fist toward Tim’s shoulder.
Tim caught it. His fingers closed gently around Jason’s fist, stopping the punch without squeezing.
Jason smirked and swung with the other hand.
Tim caught that one too.
For a moment they stood there, Tim holding both of Jason’s wrists, staring at him like he had completely lost his mind.
“See?” Jason shrugged, panting a little. “You could break my arms right now if you wanted to, you know.”
Tim let go of his hands, as if Jason had burned him, recoiling. “I wouldn’t!”
“Exactly.”
Tim’s mouth snapped shut.
Jason stepped closer. “Now we’ve firmly established that you’re not gonna hurt me, can you stop being an ass and just eat? I can hear your damn stomach gurgling from over here.”
Tim bared his fangs at him.
Jason bared his teeth back.
Tim wilted. “I… I’m scared, Jay.”
“I know. But you don’t have to be, Timmers. You’ve had about ten chances to hurt me in the last thirty seconds, and you haven’t taken one.”
Tim’s face twisted. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know.” Slowly, Jason extended his arm. “C’mon, Tim. Please?”
Tim hesitated, staring at his wrist, but he didn’t deny him this time.
“Let me do this for you?” Jason added softly. “You don’t have to be scared; it’ll be okay.”
Tim’s fingers twitched inside the sleeves of Dick’s hoodie. Then, slowly, he reached out and took Jason’s hand.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Jason’s heart gave a strange little lurch.
“Okay,” he repeated, trying not to sound too relieved. “Cool. Great. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, then. My room or yours—whichever one you want. We can get blankets and make it all cosy and shit.”
Tim glanced toward the dark staircase.
“Actually…” He hesitated, shoulders drawing up around his ears. He looked away from Jason. “Can we go to Dick’s room?”
For half a second, something sour stirred in Jason’s chest again. Then Tim’s grip tightened around his hand, cold fingers trembling against his palm, and Jason understood.
Dick’s room smelled like safety. It was warm, full of blankets, and probably the closest thing Tim had to a nest, considering the sheer amount of sleepovers the three of them had in there.
“Yeah,” Jason said. He squeezed his hand. “Course we can.”
Tim relaxed a little, glancing back at him out of the corner of his eye.
They made their way upstairs together, Tim holding tightly onto Jason’s hand the whole way.
Dick’s room was still a mess from earlier, blankets piled across the bed and half the pillows dragged into a huge mountain that could, vaguely, resemble a nest if you used your imagination. Jason was human, but he was sure the air was completely drenched in Dick’s scent; no doubt protective too, from his prowling and posturing earlier. In fact, he was certain of it, because Tim relaxed completely as soon as they stepped inside, swaying a little on his feet.
“Whoa, steady on there, Timmy,” Jason said, steadying him with one hand.
Tim chirped softly at him, leaning into his touch.
Jason nudged the door shut behind them.
“Alright,” he said, trying to sound casual despite the way his heart had started beating just a little harder. “Get comfy, Nosfera-Tim.”
Tim climbed onto the bed, disappearing briefly into the pile of blankets before reappearing out of the top of the pile, one of the fuzzy blankets draped across his head. He blinked back at Jason, chittering inquisitively. He cleared his throat and asked quietly, “Coming?”
Jason sat beside him on the edge of the bed, and for a long moment, neither of them moved, just staring at each other, both unsure how to proceed.
Then Tim shuffled closer, cautiously settling half in Jason’s lap. His eyes dropped to Jason’s arm. “You promise you won’t let me keep going?”
“I’ll tell you when to stop, don’t worry.”
Tim frowned, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s not what I asked.”
Jason snorted. “Bossy little shit.”
Tim clicked softly at him, still frowning, and Jason shook his head fondly.
“I won’t let you keep going,” he promised. “But I won’t need to. You’ll stop.”
Tim still looked frightened, so Jason shuffled further back on the bed into the pile of blankets, taking Tim with him. He grabbed the duvet, surely smothered in Dick’s scent, and swaddled Tim in it.
“There you go.” He patted the top of Tim’s head, heart melting a tad at the sight of him. “Cosy and warm.”
Tim melted, surrounded by Dick’s scent, and held safely on Jason's lap. Jason scratched at his head, and Tim melted more, letting out a little clicking sound.
Jason offered up his wrist. Tim’s eyes fixed on it, and he slowly extracted one hand from his duvet prison, wrapping it around Jason’s forearm. His grip was feather-light, like Jason really was made of glass.
He leaned closer.
Jason’s heart pounded, and his pulse must’ve been racing beneath Tim’s fingers.
Tim paused, fangs hovering just above his skin. “Jay, I… are you sure?”
Jason nodded, putting his free hand on the back of Tim’s head and gently guiding him the rest of the way. “I’m sure.”
Tim bit him.