joyride.

[batfakes]

This was probably the dumbest idea he's ever had.

The silhouette of the thing is clearly Batman but the person operating it? Clearly not. In short, static-y bursts, Terry can activate the boots but has yet to discover the rhythm that keeps them on and him air born. So there are moments - painful moments - that he comes crashing down to earth.

And he doesn't understand it. He's watched Bruce work on this thing for months. Watched him take the tech through its paces. Watched him activate the thrusters and extend the wings like his suit's always had them. Watched him fly. So it wasn't like Terry didn't know what to do. Why won't it work for him?

Terry lands again, hard against the solid surface of a building's rooftop and he swears, as he lays there trying to catch his breath, that he's broken something. Even though the suit's done its job and absorbed the impact of the fall, Terry's afraid to move in case something detrimental has happened to his bones. And maybe, he figures, it's better to just lay here and let whoever it is the ears are picking up approaching him kill him right then and there.

That'd be less painful than Bruce finding out he swiped the suit.

Comments

[farcry]

Terry thought they’d be sorry for whatever consequences Bruce would try to cast on them, but the truth was, Dick was only sorry for the fallout. Terry said the one thing he shouldn’t have and his heart clenched, watching the way Jason’s hand flew out, fast and sharp, to clamp around the kid’s jaw.

“Jason,” Dick said, quiet but firm, voice taut with urgency. Jason let go but the air charged with animosity. Dick sighed. He didn’t want to leave Terry. He wanted to take him with them—to shield him from the worst of Bruce’s anger, to explain, to fight for him, but Terry wasn’t asking for protection. He was sitting there like every stubborn Robin before him, heart braced for the fallout, spine set like steel.

Dragging him out by force would only harden him more. There was no world where that ended with understanding, no world where that would make Terry feel safe or seen.

“Okay,” he breathed, soft with resignation as he rubbed slow and calming on Jason’s back. They’d have to go. That’s how it had to be.

Still, it hurt. All of it. Even after everything, some part of him still wished Bruce would listen. Still hoped for a conversation or another way, or something, but Terry’s very existence here proved that was long gone. He shouldn’t let himself hope for better where Bruce was concerned, so he drove that ember deep and smothered it out.

His eyes drifted up to Terry’s face, still visible over Jason’s shoulder as he pulled out his own burner and wiped it clean. Bruce didn’t need more reasons to come after them. With a kiss to Jason's temple, Dick stepped over to Terry and gently tucked the burner into his belt.

“Terry,” he said, low and warm, “text me later, okay? Just let me know he found you.”

He hesitated. There should be something more he could say—advice, a warning, farewell, but nothing landed. That look on Terry’s face, all fire and resolve, reminded him of so, so much, so he did the only thing he could think to do. His hands came up to cradle Terry’s face, thumbs brushing over cheekbones, and he leaned in to press a kiss to the kid’s forehead. Gentle. Steady.
Brotherly.

He lingered there for half a second longer than he meant to then stepped back, quietly, before turning to help Jason pull together the last of what needed removing from this place. Once Bruce got here, there would be no coming back.

[batfakes]

Sometimes - only sometimes - Terry thought he talked too much. Not when he's standing up for someone or telling some Jokerz asshole where they can stick their funny clown gimmick. That kind of talk came easy, cause it came from a place of caring, warm and righteous. But in moments like this one, when the words felt like a cutting edge, he wished he'd just kept his mouth shut.

He knew it the second Jason grabbed his face, squeezed it until his jaw ached. He wasn't afraid - Batman had trained that out of him - But deep down? He felt that first doubt begin to blossom. Not because Jason was angry, but because what if Terry was wrong? About Bruce. About everything. About his choice to be here at all.

Terry never thought Bruce would lie. Withhold things, sure. The man's secrets had secrets and Terry could dig for days and never uncover them all. But these secrets? They were rotten things, buried under layers of silence and it felt like a betrayal.

He didn't say anything when Dick tucked the phone into the utility belt. Just nodded, quiet. The kiss that followed lit up something lonely and desperate behind his ribs, but he didn't know what to do with that either. With any of it.

Bruce arrived only minutes later, stone-faced and silent. Terry had been right about that at least. Batman had found him. He just didn't know if that was the problem. He said nothing when he cut Terry free but Terry didn't need him to. That cold, disappointed stare cut him deeper than any lecture would.

He doesn't know how he managed it, but he slipped the phone free from the belt without Bruce noticing it. He never text Dick. Never even powered it on. But, he liked knowing he had it. It was a lifeline he wasn't ready to trust, but didn't want to lose.

There's a deceptive sort of calm to the way Bruce interrogated him, questions sharp and demanding, but the look on Bruce's face never changing. Terry could hear the anger underneath. He could sense Bruce's need to wrestle back whatever control he thought he might have lost when Terry took off in his suit. Terry thought he'd answered honestly, but it never seemed to matter. Nothing he said seemed to be the answer Bruce wanted. Terry's glad when Bruce finally let the whole thing go.

Sort of.

The weeks that followed were brutal. Bruce doubled his training, tightened every screw of discipline until Terry could barely breathe without hearing corrections barked at him. At least they didn't talk about that night again. Not until Terry felt brave enough to bring it up himself.

He waited until Bruce was suiting up for patrol, voice low, question a simple one he thought: What happened to Jason?

The air changed when Bruce turned to look at him with a gaze harder than any punch. Terry would've flinched if he was someone else. But he wasn't someone else. He was Robin. Batman's partner. That should've meant something.

But right then? It didn't mean shit.

The argument that followed was a brutal one. Ugly in the way only people who cared too much could be. Terry would have left the cave that night thinking he'd walk away from all this for good.

Bruce left first.

But the tension doesn't go with him. It lingered, heavy and sour like something rotting in the walls. The old man wanted to keep his secrets? Fine. He could choke on them. Terry moved through the night routine like muscle memory. Video feeds came online. Intel pulled. Systems synced and ready for use. But the commline stayed cold. Silent. He'd give Bruce his data. That didn't mean they had to talk. He paused when he saw the phone, out of place among the rest of his gear. He didn't hesitate. Just powered it up and texted the only number he found inside. No plan, no overthinking. Just instinct. And maybe, somewhere under all that quiet, simmering rage, Terry had a quiet need to reach out to someone who might actually give a damn.

Batman found me.

[deadbirdarising]

While Dick gathered up the supplies they couldn't live without, Jason let some of the residual anger be of use by taking a pipe to the computer set up. Everything was backed up to their servers, after all, so destroying the machine didn't destroy the data. It did make it impossible for Bruce to be able to hack his way into their systems, though.

And if he took an extra moment to be exceptionally thorough with his job so that Bruce would have to sort through pieces with a dust pan and superglue to even stand a chance...well, he was very good at his job and very, very aware of how infuriatingly good Bruce was at his. When the CPU looked like nothing more than a LEGO set, he poured the last half of the boba out over the remaining pile. Sugar, milk, and melting ice would gum up anything his beating had missed.

Afterwards, they'd lingered just long enough on a vaguely near-ish rooftop to be able to see Batman arrive in all his pissed off glory. To make sure someone didn't find the kid first, obviously. Leaving him trussed up like that in a dead suit would have been serving him up on a silver platter if someone else had stumbled in first and Jason didn't like the little punk ass newbie, but he didn't hate him enough to see him dead. But the Bat was hard to miss and Jason was still a little pissed, so they hadn't lingered long after that.

They kept to Bludhaven for a while after that, unwilling to cross paths with Bruce or his newest little project. Jason ran a little hot for the next few days, left a few more people in the hospital than he had been for the last couple years, but no bodies washed up with his lead in them and eventually Tim showed up in their apartment to drag him on a weekend trip. He came back lighter, like he always did, and he even murmured a quiet apology against Dick's lips.

The burner wasn't forgotten, but they hadn't survived as long as they had in their chosen life by being impatient. Life went on. They worked, they patrolled, they flirted and argued and bantered and lived...and when Jason's phone chimed a new message while he was in the middle of passing out a food drop, he let it sit while he touched base with his contacts in the area and made sure that everyone had something in their belly before he retreated back to a rooftop to pull it free from his belt.

"..hn. Hey pretty bird, looks like he didn't lose your burner after all."

Didn't break his golden rule on your sorry ass, I see.