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The night air is smoggy and gray. Gotham is nothing if not consistent. Red Robin squints through the fog, trying and failing to make out any suspicious activity in the warehouse he’s been staking out for the past 4 hours.
Tim groans as he gets up, fun fact: spandex gets sticky in humidity. It peels off of the back of his thighs as he stretches out his asleep leg, still keeping an eye on the building. Not that anything has happened.
A slight breeze tosses his hair and cools the sweat on the back of his neck. Tim turns his face into it, grateful for the reprieve.
Gotham behind him, stone spires and skyscrapers laced with fog, giving way to squat warehouses and docks near the harbor. Tim finds himself wishing they didn’t, something to grapple on would be great right about now. Of course, there's no need, because the Gotham gods decided that a random night in June was going to have the lowest crime rates in the history of forever.
Gingerly lowering himself back down, Red Robin leans against the mossy bricks and exhales deeply. It’s going to be an uneventful night.
The comm in his ear crackles to life, “Anything?” Oracle practically sighs in his ear.
“Nope.” Tim yawns.
There’s sounds of typing on the other end. “If you can stick it out for a few more hours I can get Batgirl to come take over.”
“Thank god,” He huffs, “I don’t think these guys are moving anything tonight.”
Dick chuckles, it’s muffled a little by the buzz of the comms, “You’re going to jinx it.”
“I’m so bored, I hope I jinx it,” Tim grumbles.
Babs makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort, but It’s not as clear as usual.
“Why’s the line on the fritz?” Dick asks absentmindedly.
“I don’t know.” Oracle replies thoughtfully. “Here, let me…” She trails off as the clacking of her keyboard gets louder.
“Oh, Red Hood left his comm on,” She chuckles a bit.
Dick snorts, “Of course he did.”
The static over the line picks up a bit, and Oracle lets out a little puff of air, “Wait, I think I'm actually getting something from Jason's helmet.”
Tim glances down at the dead silent warehouse. Still nothing. Oh well, entertaining himself can't hurt. “Can you enhance the audio?”
“Don’t you have better things to be doing?” Damian snaps suddenly, but there's no real heat in his tone.
Quiet talking slowly becomes audible from Jason’s comms. Tim knows Oracle is just as curious (or bored) as the rest of them. Might as well see what their resident homicidal crime lord gets up to in his free time.
A young voice asks, “Are you gonna sing me a song?”
“Sure, Hayati,” The words are so soft It takes Tim a second to realize, oh, that's Jason.
Damian sucks in a sharp breath.
"Are you okay, Robin?" Nightwing asks.
There's a pause, "...'Hayati' is a term of great endearment. I did not think Todd to be one to use such names."
Silence falls over the vigilantes.
“I think I can get… there.” Oracle pulls up a visual.
The Red Hood helmet has obviously been set down on a table, or maybe a bureau of some kind, because the lens cameras display a darkened bedroom. It seems to belong to a child, a pink unicorn comforter almost completely hidden beneath a mountain of stuffed animals. A tidy mess covers the floor, and a small pink stool is tipped over in the middle of the room. A shadow approaches from the lit hallway.
“What song do you want?” Jason's voice becomes clearer as he breaches the doorway, and Tim can't help but stare. It's like he's a different person.
He's traded the body armor and weaponry in for loose gray sweatpants and a ratty Wonder Woman t-shirt. His eyes glow green like love. It's jarring, seeing Jason like this— his hair slightly damp and his posture relaxed, cradling a girl who can't be older than 5.
She must be the younger voice, the one who asked Red Hood for a bedtime song as if that was something he does. Hell, watching how carefully Jason lays her down amongst a throne of plush animals and unicorns, Tim can see it. A hysterical laugh bubbles behind his lips as he realizes: None of them really know Jason at all.
Her long black hair fans out behind her head as she snuggles in, doelike black eyes watching as Jason flicks on the star nightlight next to her bed and busies himself with tucking her in. The Batkids are silent as Jason leans over her bed to press a kiss on her forehead. Someone sniffles. It's probably Dick.
Jason moves to right the stool, but the girl launches herself into his side and wraps her little arms around his ribcage. The older man freezes for a second and Tim’s breath catches in his throat. Will he scream? Attack? Freak out and run?
To Tim’s surprise (Or maybe not. Maybe Jason looks calm and safe and kind and it’s not a surprise at all) he does none of those things, instead indulging her by slowly settling down on the edge of her bed and moving a gentle hand through her hair.
She smiles and blinks up at him contentedly, “You pick the song.”
Jason smiles and hums thoughtfully, exaggeratedly miming out picking a lullaby. A small part of Tim cracks and bleeds longing at the sight of the care Jason shows towards his daughter.
“I think I've got one.” Jason says affectionately, turning towards the kid with eyes so impossibly fond Tim might tear up. Or gag. Dick might actually be crying now.
Jason carefully pries the girl off of him and gently settles her into her bed.
“Nizónígo jooba’ digits’a’.”
It’s set to the tune of Amazing Grace, but Tim doesn’t recognize the language. It's… nice, in Jason’s rough baritone.
“Yisdáshííłtínígíí.”
Jason tenderly brings the pink sheets up to her chin, tucking her in with the same amount of care one would put into defusing a bomb.
“I want the unicorn one, too,” The girl insists. Jason raises an eyebrow.
“It’s pretty warm out tonight sweetheart, you’ll get hot if you use that one.”
She pouts but considers his words. “Fine.”
Jason laughs through his nose at her regal tone. “Wise decision, your majesty.”
The girl preens under the title. “Keep singing?”
The man indulges her as he arranges her stuffed animals around her small frame, “Yóó’ííyáá nít’éé’”
Jason leans over to plant a successful kiss to her temple, “K’ad shéénáhoosdzin.”
He moves to leave, but the little girl frees an arm to pat the space next to her. Jason smiles and lays down next to her, leaning on his side so he can reach over to rub circles into her hair.
It’s quiet for a second, so the girl grabs his shirt and insists, “Baba, keep singing.”
Choking noises come from over Nightwing’s comm. Tim understands wholeheartedly. Jason has a kid!? Who he is apparently a… relatively good parent to!? He's not angry and angsty all the time?? Somehow, its seemed like Jason is incapable of any emotion past gruff quips and the occasional patch job.
Tim groans internally. Dick is going to be so not subtle about this and Jason is going to be mad at them forever. Damnit.
On the screen, the man in question chuckles, “Okay bossy.”
She makes a little ‘hmph’ noise, but melts into the pillows as Jason picks up the song again, tracing shapes into her little shoulder.
“Doo eesh’íį da nít’éé’,” His words trail off as his daughter’s eyes flutter closed, but he keeps humming and stroking her hair until she’s breathing deeply, firmly asleep.
Jason removes his hand and gingerly stands, careful not to disturb the softy snoring toddler. Another shadow approaches but pauses right outside the door, invisible to the onlookers.
“Your pronunciation could use work,” The distinctly male voice snarks.
Dick makes a wounded noise of surprise. “Is that Roy?”
He’s shaken out of his stupor by Jason slugging the shadow in the shoulder.
“Shuddap,” Jason scoffs, but leans over the doorframe to kiss the concealed man.
Tim bluescreens. That rules out family friend or babysitting job. Oh my God, Jason totally has a boyfriend.
“Make me,” The man teases, voice lilting.
Jason growls playfully and rushes forward, scooping the other up in a fireman’s carry. Their twin shadows fade with their footsteps.
Silence reigns on the comms. Barbara shuts off the feed from Red Hood’s helmet. Tim is suddenly jolted back to the stark stone ledge. His leg has fallen asleep again.
Tim shivers.
It’s kind of cold.