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Tim’s life was a mess. And he wasn’t just saying that so someone could jump in and tell him; no, actually, your life is great. No, his life was an actual, steaming dumpster-fire. And to think he’d started out so promising.
See, years ago, when Tim had still been an unsupervised baby-stalker, his only real hobby had been looking at Batman and Robin, the heroes, the dynamic duo. He’d been so infatuated with Robin, could think about nothing else but him, every day. It was the only subject he liked to talk about at lengths, not that anybody was ever there to talk with.
In any case, he snuck out every night, no matter the weather, and he watched them beat up bad guys. Only, he noticed a certain tension one night. And it didn’t go away the next, or the next. And then one day, Robin was just gone. This wasn’t too unusual, the first Robin had packed his bags and moved to Bludhaven after all, but the next morning the newspaper’s front page was taken up with the tragic story of Jason Todd-Wayne, the adopted son of Bruce Wayne, who’d died too young, without ever even meeting his soulmate.
He’d stayed home the entire day and cried like a little baby. He’d come to love Robin and he couldn’t believe he would never get to see him again.
That didn’t exactly stop him from going out anyway, though. He didn’t have anything else to do. And Batman was even more of a mess than Tim. He punched petty thieves so hard they landed in a coma, he cried openly and Tim suspected he was drunk more times than he could count.
The solution was obvious. And in any case, ever since that night, Tim had a gnawing empty in his ribcage, as if he was missing something or rather; someone.
So— he bullied himself into becoming Robin, taking up the mantle to honor Jason. And then, when everything was finally looking up, Tim turned 14 and his mark appeared. This wasn’t unusual, most people got it sometime during puberty, only he wished he’d never gotten it at all.
His words were grey, the sign of a dead or comatose soulmate. Deep down, he’d always suspected that he didn’t have a soulmate waiting for him down the line, but this confirmed it. Tim would never meet the love of his life. So; he threw himself into more work, with a work ethic and motivation that was only rivaled by Batman’s own.
Bruce’s soulmark, the first time Tim caught it in the shadow, was in a script he couldn’t decipher, likely arabic, and bright red. The sign of a consummated soul-bond. And yet, there was no soulmate around. B never spoke of them, and Tim never dared ask. In turn, Bruce never prodded, even when he saw the washed out grey of Tim’s own.
And sometimes, Tim was glad to have never met them. His words hadn’t been nice, exactly. And he couldn’t imagine a context in which he would’ve been happy to hear them.
“I’m going to make you pay, pretender“
Script scrawled right around his ribcage. It would’ve been beautiful, if it wasn’t so mean.
Saying all this, what Tim hadn’t expected was his mark to turn a bright green, like he’d never seen before.
He was obviously concerned and consulted the internet to no avail. No one had a neon-green soulmark and Tim had no clue what it could mean. At first, he’d thought it might be an alien, like maybe they’d finally broken through their egg (ew), but he knew that Lois Lane’s soulmark was purple, so that couldn’t be it.
So he went and talked to B’. His eyes darkened immediately and he pulled Tim into one of his rare hugs.
“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry-“ he whispered into Tim’s neck.
“-Your soulmate has taken a dive in a Lazarus pit, it seems.“
“Lazarus pit?“, he asked.
Bruce nodded. The history of the League was long and twisted, but only the highest of members ever got to take a dip and apparently, his soulmate was one of them.
In another universe, at a different time, Ra’s would call Tim the detective, a title usually only reserved for Bruce Wayne. And he wouldn’t be wrong. Tim was nearly as good a detective as Bruce but he was less emotional and trauma-driven. More objective, maybe.
So, when a clearly angry Red Hood (that’s his name) starts coming to town, a vicious hatred for Bruce in his blood, murdering everyone on sight, it’s not hard to piece everything together. And Tim doesn’t like the picture it makes.
His soulmark burns in his chest, the second the tower goes on lockdown. He vibrates with anticipation, yet with his staff in hand, he’s ready for a fight. And, even if Tim had secretly hoped he was wrong, he was proven right. Jason Todd was the Red Hood and when he pushed Tim against a wall, shouting his words.
“I’m going to make you pay, pretender“ spat right into his face. And Tim felt a rush of color rise through his cheeks.
“If that is what it takes to get you back“ he replied and watched with interest as Jason first turns pale, then red then violet, all the while his eyes staying a disturbing green. A green that Tim currently has on his body.
Jason stumbles back like he’d been hit. “No- no way! You’re not— you can’t be!“
He turned on his heels and left. Tim watched him go and didn’t try and stop him for a second.
It was nice to have a confirmation, at the very least. Even if Tim couldn’t imagine ever loving a man like that.
Bruce arrives in full Batman regalia only ten minutes later, and he finds Tim with his head between his knees curled up against the wall. Wordlessly, Tim pulls up his shirt to showcase the words-now blue-, the color of a matched pair that hadn’t confirmed the bond. Another hug follows.
Tim is banned from all missions concerning the Red Hood, and so he watches from afar as Jason gets more brutal and then slowly calms, having taken the Alley and most of the Narrows under his control. He’s a good crime-lord, by all accounts. Doesn’t deal to kids, cares about his workers, kills pedophiles. And Tim, even if he’d never admit it, kinda gets him. Gets the violence he uses. He might not like killing personally, but he can see the good it does. Can see what a Sisyphean task Bruce has loaded onto his back with his rules.
Escape after escape, after escape, made Gotham an unsafe place and nothing Batman could do would ever truly stop it.
Tim never dared to voice those sentiments, he knew he’s already on thin ice because his soulmate is a villain. If he showed even the slightest of indications that he’d go dark, he’d be locked up. And yet, that doesn’t stop him from stalking the vigilante through all of Gotham, watching him carefully, noting his habits, his favorite drinks and his favorite chili-dog spot.
There’s a lot happening in Tim’s life, he gets adopted, gets a sister, then a younger brother from the soulmate Bruce steadfastly tries to pretend doesn’t exist. (And isn’t that a surprise? The unwavering Batman and the daughter of the demon’s head?)
Damian is a terror in disguise, dangerous and clearly out to get Tim. So; he spend more time outside the manor, wandering the city, helping where he can.
That’s when he meets Jason again, this time in a bookshop. They’re both without dominoes but never unarmed. Jason takes one look at him, turns and leaves.
And look— should Tim have never returned to that shop ever again? Is Red Hood a criminal? The answer is yes, obviously. Except, there’s this pull he feels, like he can’t imagine never seeing Jason again.
It might just be the soulmate connection but he’s used to trusting his gut instinct and so, he returns the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. He meets Jason again, one, two, three times. At first, they just look, never approaching. But then they get talking, they sit down together.
Only safe topics are discussed, mostly books. And Tim learns that Jason is one of the most well-read people he’s ever met. His insights are funny, his sense of humor impossibly dry and he’s just— let’s just say, Tim had to stop himself from sighing dreamily one too many times.
There was no denying that there was a connection there. Obviously, they’re fated mates. But a few years ago Tim could’ve never imagined a live with Jason by his side. Now, he can’t imagine ever going without.
Bruce thankfully has too much work to worry much about where Tim regularly disappeared too and he never gets to talk to his pseudo-father anyway, because Bruce just up and dies.
There’s been so much death in his live.
Tim is tired.
He’s bone-deep exhausted and he can barely bring himself to take another breath.
In the aftermath, Dick comes back, Cass fully disappears to Hong Kong and Tim has never felt so lonely. Even when he still lived at home, he’d still had that distant memory of his family and the security that they’d return. Now; everyone was dead and he had no clue how he could move forward.
That was the first time Jason looked at him and pulled him out of the store. Tim had been crying, but he hadn’t stopped Jason. They ended on a rooftop far above the busy streets and Tim had sunken against Jason’s shoulder and cried. It had felt— cathartic, that was the word. A hand on his back, gently rubbing circles into taunt skin, a few kind words whispered into his ear. It felt so good to have someone on his side. Someone who was literally destined to be his mate. Someone who could understand.
That night, they’d shared a tentative kiss before Tim had returned to his empty, cold room at the manor and Jason to whatever a crime-lord did at 3 am.
They don’t get a chance to meet up again before Dick turns his whole world upside down via one single talk. Tim’s no longer a bat at all, he’s alone. And that painting…
He leaves, he doesn’t know what else to do.
They don’t see each other again until after Tim has successfully proven that Bruce is still alive. In the process, he’s lost most of what made him feel like himself, has grieved and screamed, and has been blacklisted by most other heroes thanks to some very helpful tips from Dick. Yeah, his older brother can go fuck himself.
In any case, he managed what he set out to do and he couldn’t be happier. Even if he was still on rocky ground with his friends, felt other with the bat’s and on some days, utterly insane.
—
The first real day back, he spends in the office, trying to do damage control for all the shit Hush pulled. The second day, he goes to that bookshop, even if it’s probably stupid to think Jason would show up.
He hadn’t even given him an explanations before leaving. He doesn’t expect Jason to stand at the entry, two steaming cups in his hand and nose adorably blushed from the cold. He didn’t look the least bit like a villain, and Tim could almost imagine a different live for them, where they both met at college, got to know each other and finally fell in love. But this life is no hallmark movie and so Jason is still a killer and Tim a hero with a dwindling sense of morals that could bend much further than they should.
(Idly, he wondered if what he did was mass murder? Sure, he hadn’t looked if people were in the bases and they certainly weren’t the main target, but there must’ve been people inside, people that died in explosions he caused. He doesn’t even have the decency to regret it)
Tim plasters on the broadest smile he can manage and grabs one of the coffee-cups. It’s his favorite, which he’s sure he never mentioned to Jason before.
“Heard you were back in town“ Jason said, eyes never leaving his face.
“Yeah, I’m back. Mission accomplished, I guess.“
“You still living in the manor? Can’t imagine Dickface being very welcoming.“
Tim snorts into his coffee. That was certainly one way to describe Dick’s attitude. Clearly, his older brother had no idea how to approach him, if he should be angry or happy or remorseful. Tim would just be happy with a simple sorry, but that was probably a far-fetched dream.
“No, actually. I moved into the old theatre, the one by park-row?“
He doesn’t even really have to add where it is, all the bats know of it. The theater Bruce’s parents were killed by. A place with so much history it made Tim’s skin crawl. And yet— it was his. And he loved it.
Jason let out a barking laugh. “I’m sure B won’t be happy about that“
Tim shrugged, “Yeah, well, I don’t really care.“
There was a certain tension in the air that Tim couldn’t pinpoint. “They treatin’ you well?“
Tim raised an eyebrow, “Is that care I’m hearing? I’m not really on speaking terms with them as of now. I don’t know how much you know about my last year, but Dick sure as hell didn’t make it any easier. He called me crazy!“
Jason’s eyes darkened. “I heard enough through the grapevine. And he’s really livin’ up to his name, isn’t he? Especially with the brat around.“
God, Damian. That was a whole other can of worms that he did not want to open. “Yeah well, it works out okay professionally, and I’m sure as hell not working with the Demon“
The brother who cut his line, who could’ve killed him, who stole his place and made it his own. The blood-son that shouldn’t exist.
“Well, I know we didn’t have the best of runs ’til now, but if you ever need help and don’t want Dickiebird pokin‘ round‘ give me a call.“ He gives an astounded Tim a piece of paper with a number. His number.
The idea that Tim now had a crime-lord on speed-dial makes him want to throw the paper away. The reminder that this is his soulmate, who’s been much more welcoming lately, makes him keep it. Who knows, it might be important for the next world-ending crisis.
As it turns out, Tim never does get to call Jason in. They send memes back and forth, occasionally interspersed with updates on cases that intersect their territory. Tim tries not to think about what Jason does to the perps he gets his hands on and in turn Jason never tries to attack someone he knows Tim is trying to capture.
Then, Tim is abducted.
It’s really lame actually, whilst he’s a civilian, just walking back from his favorite coffeeshop. He rounds a corner, and a rag with chloroform is pressed against his face. He doesn’t even get a second to react before he’s out like a light.
He wakes up tied to a pole in a basement turned dungeon, gagged and watched over by two guards. The room is bare with a single flimsy lightbulb overhead and it’s so cliché Tim would laugh if he could. They removed his clothes except for his underwear and it’s pretty chilly. There’s some kind of drug in his system that makes him sluggish, the world a hazy color and every sound echoing too loud.
They keep him like that for two days, without any input at all, except for two escorts to the truly dirtiest toilet Tim has ever had the misfortune of setting his eyes upon and the removal of his gag once in the morning and once at night to give him some water, no food at all.
His jaw aches and he’s gone longer without food but he feels the strength leaving his body. His sleep is fitful and difficult, plagued by nightmares and by the end of day two, he’s a mess. He tries to reconstruct the bat’s way of finding him, before he realizes it would take Bab’s doing a check-up for them to even realize he’s gone missing. Only Lucius would conceivably notice and he would just cover for Tim, thinking this is another mission gone rogue. Nobodies coming— not for a while.
The guard kicks him in the ribs the night of the third day, making him sit up in a matter of milliseconds. He’s confused and his brain still isn’t working correctly but he can tell it will form a nasty bruise at the very least.
Then, Ra’s makes his entrance. Tim groans. He’d thought he’d finally gotten rid of this guy. It also makes all the hair on the back of his neck stand up in attention. Last time he’d been in contact with the League the daughter of Acheron wanted his seed.
Ra’s starts off with his usual spiel, and Tim can barely follow it. He does gather that Ra’s still wants him to resume his role as heir despite him having made it abundantly clear that he was not interested. Some threats, some blackmail, baseless accusations, bla bla bla.
Ra’s left once it became clear Tim was so not in the mood for banter, with some kind of ultimatum that Tim didn’t care about.
He was left to rot in his cell.
On day five, Ra’s came back and made it clear that none of the bat’s had noticed anything unusual. He was trying to hurt him with that, lording it over his head but Tim just shrugged. He’d expected as much. His guards gave him a beating then, because he was disrespectful to their master. Ugh. It couldn’t have been a cool villain to get him like that?
On day-or night?- seven, it happened.
Shouts outside his door, gunshots echoing off the walls. To their credit, the guards didn’t even move an inch, even if they probably should’ve. It would be their end.
Jason fucking Todd, storms the base on a one-man mission to free Tim and he’s feeling way too giddy for the situation he’s in.
His cell-door gets kicked in, and there he is, red shining helmet still on his head, a gun in each hand, menacing and ruthless and splattered in blood.
Look— could it have something to do with Tim’s latent abandonment issues? Sure. But he’d literally never seen anything hotter than a guy breaking into a villain’s base just to rescue Tim. Because he noticed, because he did something, because he sunk to his knees and carefully drooped his leather jacket over his shaking form, because he picked Tim up with so much fucking ease and carried him to safety- because, this was his soulmate.
That night, he cooks Tim a very late dinner, takes care of his bruising, stitches up the two wounds that had re-opened from the rough treatment of the guards. He keeps patting Tim’s shoulder, leading him with an arm around his waist, just never letting go. And he really does appreciate the contact. He sees so much of the Robin he’d gotten to know all those years ago, and he couldn’t feel remorse for the people that had died tonight. They’d made their choice and Jason had made his. Could Tim really fault him for that? Yes- whispered Bruce’s voice. No- whispered his own back.
“Why did you come?“ Tim asks, half asleep and finally warm again.
“I told you, I’ll be there if you need me.“ Jason replied with a soft smile and in that moment, Tim knew he was gone. He was irrevocably in love with Jason Todd, resident crime-lord and the nicest man Tim knew.
The next morning is calm and Tim still aches as he sits on a barstool at the kitchen counter and watches Jason cook him breakfast.
“You won’t stop killing, will you?“, he asks. Jason stops for half a second before resuming his stirring.
“No. Is that a deal-breaker?“
“No“— and maybe it should be. Maybe Tim should uphold his own moral compass, should make Jason stop or at the very least, tip off the police. He should make sure Jason faces a court of his peers and get a fair sentence. But for once, Tim just wants to be selfish. Just wants to put himself first. He doesn’t pretend to be morally superior or have the high ground. He’s just a guy, and he’s in love with Jason. With the way he smiles, the way he moves and that adorably protective streak. Because Jason cares— and Tim never had that before.
Jason turns, a bowl in his hand and he sets it down. Then, he leans over the counter, pulls Tim forward and kisses him, right on the lips. And yeah, it’s a bit awkward, and there’s food between them, but he’s never had a better kiss in his life. He would do anything to keep Jason and Jason would do anything to keep him— is that so bad?