Since the day he came back, everything changed.
He never met him until now. Just heard about him. A few words. Too few words.
Batman never talked about his second Robin, never. It is a taboo subject. Nightwing wasn't better on the subject, just acknowledging once that there had been a younger bird who should have spread his wings to fly next to him.
Batman and Robin sharing a failure, the upholders of the law cursed.
Bruce is still not able to look at his son's face, seeing the hate, seeing the despear. How could anybody talk with The Anger? The Rage. The lost son.
No one. Not a Batman. Not a Saint.
Tough Dick is not giving up. Coming to him, anytime Red Hood appeares, everytime. Talking to him the only way he is able to, the only way his first brother would understand, by sharing hard fists, dangerous kicks, unfriendly growls.
Tim just feels alone watching them fighting again and again. Isn't he a Robin too? Doesn't he deserve to be a part of that fight? Couldn't he be able to make that stranger Robin look at him? Do they really need to talk to understand each other?
Tim sighes. He so wants to be a part of this fight of this whatever it is. It is his place!
Looking at those wonderful and powerful men, their hands grabbing each other, their bodies dancing proudly. A little smirk crosses his face. He does understand now why his big brother never had been able to look away from that body, from those eyes. The man, Jason Todd, was pure bliss.
He wouldn't stand here anymore, a Robin doesn't sit around, a Robin is fighting. And the younger Robin will have his part in this play.
When he wrapped his arms around Jason's hard and huge chest, the man stood still at once. Never would a man take that gesture for a provocation, or an attack. Never. Especially not when curious and hesitant fingers decided to play with every curves of a foreigner and though familiar body.
The younger Robin decides to show the older men how there shouldn't be war in a family, just brotherly love.