Double the Pain
A Word: Follows chapter 9 of the drabbles series, Further Reading if you'd like to see where this came from. Basically, Tim has a twin and the others are just now finding out about it. Hence, Jason's reactions.
.
.
They're damn near identical. The exact same face and eyes and hair. The only difference is the scars, and Jason's down right ashamed that none of them noticed the disappearing/reappearing scar on his lip. Sure, they've got the kind of makeup to make anything disappear, but not even Tim was good enough to apply it so fast so often.
It's fucking with his mind, more than a little, watching Tim and Alvin argue over dinner. Alvin. Fuck, he knew the Drakes weren't all that good when it came to parenting, but that name is all the evidence Jason needs to know they actively hated their kids.
Dick's hovering on the periphery of the twins. Looking at them in confusion that's quickly turning to utter delight. Jason can see the idiot realizing he's got another little brother to torture. Damian is utterly indifferent and treats the two like they're the same person, or like it doesn't matter to him which is far more likely. Alfred showed no surprise beyond an arched eyebrow and a dry comment about getting another setting laid out. Bruce is still staring hard at the two men. With that narrowed eyed pissiness that declares to all and sundry he's not happy. Jason will laugh at it later, because the Replacement pulled one hell of scheme over Batman. Twice.
Tim's ignoring it all with the sheer force of willpower, Al seems completely oblivious. They're squabbling over a dinner roll in something that Jason had previously thought was a very Tim manner, but is apparently a Tim and Al manner.
"You've overloaded the carbs already today," Al says and he's ruthless as he block's Tim's hand with a butter knife. "Weren't you just complaining the suit is getting a little tight?"
"No, I haven't," Tim's outrage melts away and he gives Al puppy eyes. The one that Jason has seen Bruce cave to on more than one occasion. "I'll burn it all off just putting the suit on. Come on, Al, if anyone should be watching their weight it's you. When's the last time you got to the gym anyway?"
There's a flash of icy fire in Al's face that makes Jason nearly choke on his chicken. It's that hot as hell, angry flash that Jason's not too proud to admit he tries hard to provoke from- Well, the person he thought was Tim.
Fuck. Jason sits back and eyes the men across the table. They're sniping at each other in a way he's going to have to label the Drake way. They're gorgeous, they're sarcastic, and they're sharp enough to cut with a look. Al is cold and calculating, obviously ambitious and no little bit cruel even to his brother. Tim is warm and caring even if that caring is given at the end of roundhouse, he's far more sassy than his brother and while not cruel he isn't that nice. No one who grins when he knocks teeth out can be.
It's a list of everything he'd found attractive in the person he thought he knew. Divided evenly between two people.
He's fucked. Simple as that, Jason realizes exactly how fucked he is as the twins divide the roll between them under Alfred's stern eye. Tim obviously grudging and Al putting off an air that he's allowing it all to happen. They both catch him staring. Al arches an eyebrow that shows he's had to have spent some time around Alfred. Tim smiles a little self consciously. Neither of them apologize as they turn back to their own plates. Ignoring each other as if they hadn't just almost engaged in utensil fencing over a piece of bread.
"But don't you both live at the apartment?" Dick asks suddenly. Confusion coming back momentarily. "There's only one bed. Do you guys share it?"
Jason does choke on the chicken this time. He coughs and hunches over his plate as some filthy, awesome pictures rip through his mind. Al's giving him a dirty look when he sits back up and tries to pretend he doesn't need a cold shower or some quality time with his right hand.
"No," Tim's looking at Jason curiously and doesn't seem to have realized how the question could have been taken. Not like Al who is now giving that dirty look to Dick. "Al uses the bed."
"But-" Dick looks concerned now.
"Tim sleeps on the couch," Al cuts in with an eye roll. "Or anywhere it is he happens to be when he falls asleep. He prefers it that way. I'm sure you've realized that Tim can sleep anywhere at anytime."
Jason once saw Red Robin fall asleep on top of a fridge. Flopped over the thing on his stomach like a cat. It'd been funny but Jason had chalked it up to extreme tiredness until Dick had come in and not taken a second look at the sleeping man. He'd then gotten a rather hair raising account of all the places the man had fallen asleep when wearing the Robin uniform. So, yeah, Jason can see it.
But his first thoughts were so much better, and he'll be keeping those. Thanks Dick.
"How separate do you two keep your roles?" Bruce cuts through any follow up questions. He gives no indication that he's heard any of the conversation they've been having though they all know he's been listening and cataloging it all.
"Uh, completely," Tim answers immediately. He blinks seems to think and shrugs. "Mostly?"
"I make all business decisions," Al elaborates. "Tim handles all the crime fighting details. We can, and have, switched places but only for a limited extent."
Bruce remains silent and expectant.
"I can sign for Al and forward him details," Tim says after a pause, "but he'll try smothering me in my sleep if I try to make any decisions to effect the company."
"Try, yes," Al says with a frown that makes Jason think they're both talking from experience. "I can put on a mask and some tights, but I'm not insane enough to actually throw myself off buildings or at bullets like all of you do."
"I see there's some sense in the family then," Alfred remarks as he clears the table. Firmly pushing Dick back down when the man gets up to help. "Or should be. What is the legal status of Alvin Drake?"
"There isn't," Al says reluctantly, and Tim grimaces with him. "You won't find much on me. Not electronically anyway."
Bruce's eyebrow arches up in a question.
"There was," Tim shrugs, "we're not sure how, but there was some mix up when we were born. Some papers didn't get filed right, and it never got fixed."
"Mom," Al says with steadfast conviction.
"Yeah, probably," Tim shakes his head though, and his eyes damn near shine as he defends his mother. "But we don't know that for sure." There's that loyal and good boy shine that Jason had always wanted to tear out with his eyes.
"Of course not! Mom'd never leave anything that could be traced back to her," Al says as if it's the most scandalous thing he's ever heard. He's every inch the rich, privileged asshole in that moment. The act that had always set Jason's teeth on edge. "Can you imagine the scandal that would have caused after all these years?"
Great, the two worst qualities also divided between the twins.
"I see," Bruce's eyes are narrowed. He does see something in the basket of crazy that was the Drake's decision to keep quiet about the fact they had two sons. Jason wonders if it's the same thing he sees, because he really can't see anything good in it at all.
Who the hell is he kidding? That's a thoughtful look on Bruce's face. He is seeing something and he's liking it.
"No," Dick speaks up and it's firm and serious as he looks at Bruce. He's still got a fork even thought the table's clear, and points it at the man. "This is a problem, and we're going to fix it. Not continue it."
"Dick, it's not-" Tim starts to say and Al finishes, "-a problem at all!"
"The tactical advantages," Bruce muses almost too quiet to hear.
"Hey, Bruce, remember that talk we had about family and plans? About how they will not go together?" Dick's smiling. That creepy one that's all false cheer and 'this is going to hurt you more than me.' "Oh, that's right. We didn't have that conversation. You and Alfred did."
Tim's eyes drift up to the ceiling and his face is very, very blank. Al's lips are pressed hard together but the corners are twitching. Damian looks up from the phone he's been using to block them all out and almost looks impressed. Jason whistles, "That was almost smooth, Dickie."
"Why thank you Jay," Dick turns back to Bruce, who is smiling, just a little. "My point is," he swings a hand towards Al who is just out of his arm span. On purpose probably. "Al deserves his own life and name. He deserves to be part of a family as himself, not as a stand in."
"You are not suggesting we take him in," Damian speaks up in outrage. "Isn't one Drake enough?"
Dick sighs and turns to the brat, and before he can start in on his family spiel Jason cuts in. Half because he's sick of hearing it himself and half because he's curious, "So, how the hell would that happen anyway?"
"Oh," Al steeples his fingers together in front of his face and smiles. It's a sharks smile that promises utter annihilation and makes the business world tremble. "We might have an idea."
"Or two," Tim chimes in with the razor blade smile that precedes the loud snapping of broken bones when Red Robin jumps into a situation.
Jason swallows a groan and slouches in his chair as the brothers begin to talk. He's been conditioned by those two smiles over the past few years. He's so utterly fucked.
.
.