Jason's laughter followed them through the city as the older man lead the way over rooftops. It wasn't a sound that many people had heard in recent years, and Tim had managed to coax it out of him twice in one night. Dick would be jealous, Bruce would be suspicious, but Jason was just enjoying the rare bit of levity.
Eventually, the run ended on a fire escape, the metal oddly stable considering how hard Jason's bulk hit it. Any other fire escape in his part of the city would have shuddered and creaked, rust flaking off weathered bolts, but this one barely twitched. The window was armed and a fake brick shifted away under Jason's touch so he could key in a code. There was a chirp and Jason slid the brick back into place before sliding the window open on well oiled tracks.
Inside was dark, but they were both well used to the dark. Tim ended up climbing into a living room, not barren and barely furnished like most of Jason's safehouses, but comfortable looking and decorated. Bookshelves lined most of the wall space, an overstuffed couch in the center of the space. Where most people would put a TV he had a desk with a computer set up, though the screen was large enough and the space small enough that he could probably scroll through Netflix with a wireless mouse. Art dotted what wall space wasn't claimed by books and Tim might recognize a couple as Damian's.
This wasn't a safehouse. This was his apartment. His home. The place no other Bat even knew existed, let alone had ever been inside.
Jason himself had crossed the space and rounded the bar into his kitchen, setting the bag of food on the counter before he reached up to thumb the hidden latch that let his helmet pop open enough to slide off his head. His hair was mussed but he was grinning as he set the helmet aside and shrugged out of his jacket.
"Thanks. I've been working on it for a while. Slow going between the shelters, clinics, and the night job. Take off your cape, stay awhile."
For Prettyredbird
Jason's laughter followed them through the city as the older man lead the way over rooftops. It wasn't a sound that many people had heard in recent years, and Tim had managed to coax it out of him twice in one night. Dick would be jealous, Bruce would be suspicious, but Jason was just enjoying the rare bit of levity.
Eventually, the run ended on a fire escape, the metal oddly stable considering how hard Jason's bulk hit it. Any other fire escape in his part of the city would have shuddered and creaked, rust flaking off weathered bolts, but this one barely twitched. The window was armed and a fake brick shifted away under Jason's touch so he could key in a code. There was a chirp and Jason slid the brick back into place before sliding the window open on well oiled tracks.
Inside was dark, but they were both well used to the dark. Tim ended up climbing into a living room, not barren and barely furnished like most of Jason's safehouses, but comfortable looking and decorated. Bookshelves lined most of the wall space, an overstuffed couch in the center of the space. Where most people would put a TV he had a desk with a computer set up, though the screen was large enough and the space small enough that he could probably scroll through Netflix with a wireless mouse. Art dotted what wall space wasn't claimed by books and Tim might recognize a couple as Damian's.
This wasn't a safehouse. This was his apartment. His home. The place no other Bat even knew existed, let alone had ever been inside.
Jason himself had crossed the space and rounded the bar into his kitchen, setting the bag of food on the counter before he reached up to thumb the hidden latch that let his helmet pop open enough to slide off his head. His hair was mussed but he was grinning as he set the helmet aside and shrugged out of his jacket.
"Thanks. I've been working on it for a while. Slow going between the shelters, clinics, and the night job. Take off your cape, stay awhile."