Warnings: Slash; kissing; possibly inappropriate humor and language?
Pairings: Jason Todd/Tim Drake
Credits: This is non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. The fanfiction was created by me, please do not repost without my permission.
A/N: I wrote this back on Valentine's Day and I'm just posting it now to FFN, haha. Happy late Valentine's Day! Hope you all enjoy! This fic is pretty light.
Tim watched intensely, studying Alfred's hands as he worked. The technique appeared to be in the wrist—one hand steady, the other subtly turning and twisting, guiding the tool along the surface. Tim could feel Damian's elbow bumping against his on the table, but for once, neither of them barked at the other one to move. The boy was just as still as him and neither of them, despite the invasion of their space bubbles, dared to look away. They watched, hypnotized by Alfred's artistry.
"Ooh, cupcakes," a voice said suddenly, and before Tim could even a blink, a grubby finger stuck itself in the perfectly crafted frosting.
"Argh," Tim and Damian groaned in unison, both turning to glare at Dick accusingly. Dick looked back, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, his finger still in his mouth. Damian added loudly, "You ruined it!"
"It's quite alright, Master Tim and Master Damian. I have more," Alfred said, smiling gently. He set down the decorator and went to go fetch the sheet of cupcakes that was sitting on the counter behind him.
"Are these for Valentine's Day?" Dick asked, picking up the cupcake. Tim noticed the calculating flicker in Damian's eyes when Dick leaned in to take a bite—it was the perfect opening to smash Dick's face with the very cupcake he ruined. Predicting Damian's plan, Tim elbowed him gently, grabbing his attention.
"Don't," Tim warned.
"Tt." Damian crossed his arms.
"Yes. I know it's not for a few days, but I decided I should have something prepared for the meeting just in case our schedules fail to align again," Alfred said. He placed the chocolate cupcakes back on the table, and the menace in Damian's eyes seemed to disappear when Alfred picked up the decorator once again.
"I know that I won't be here on V-Day," Dick said, smiling in a way that was almost smug. "I have a date."
"Oh, with Miss Barbara?" Alfred said, glancing up at him. At that, Dick's smile disappeared. He looked sheepish.
"Oh, no, it's not Barbara—"
"Tt. It's Koriand'r. Obviously."
Dick shifted in place, looking uncomfortable. "Uh, no—"
"Helena?" Tim guessed. "You two had a thing, right?"
"No—"
"Really, Grayson?" Damian said dryly. "Zucco's daughter again?" He muttered under his breath, "Tacky."
"Guys—"
"Bridget Clancy?" Tim said, pulling a name out of his memory.
"Who the hell is Bridget Clancy?" Damian asked, scoffing.
"None of you have ever met her!" Dick said, raising his voice over them. Composing himself, he continued—though without his bravado from earlier. "She's a barista from the shop down my apartment."
"Oh," they all said flatly. Dick's expression soured at their lack of enthusiasm.
"Well, best of luck, Master Dick," Alfred said, resuming his work, to which Dick sighed in response. The butler ignored him and continued, "I'm a little saddened that Master Jason was unable to join us for this meeting."
"I think he and Bruce are fighting again," Tim said, thinking. He didn't know for sure if that was the case—Tim had too many responsibilities to keep up with batfamily drama—but it sounded about right.
"Eh, more for us," Dick said, reaching for the cupcake that Alfred just finished. Damian slapped his hand away with lightning quick speed, though his gaze never tore away from Alfred's work. Dick looked at the back of Damian's head sadly and Tim couldn't resist rolling his eyes at Dick's heartbroken expression—he had suffered worse hits, he was just acting melodramatic.
"It's just a shame, is all. It would have been nice to share these cupcakes with him. He loves them," Alfred said.
At this bit of information, Tim raised an eyebrow. It seemed he wasn't the only one taken aback—he heard Damian snort a little. Tim glanced over and saw the amused look on the boy's face. Damian asked exactly what Tim was thinking: "Wait, are you still talking about Todd?"
Pennyworth blinked, noticing their reactions. "Why yes, of course. Who else?"
"Jason just… doesn't seem like the cupcake type," Dick said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He always seems more interested in, I don't know, whiskey."
Pennyworth straightened, seeming almost indignant. "Master Jason happened to love my baking. Cupcakes, tiramisu, crepes, pies, tarts, cream puffs—"
"Cream puffs?" Damian said incredulously.
"That's just pure sugar," Tim said. He felt a little sick thinking about it—as much as he loved watching Alfred decorate, he was not a sweets person. Too much sugar always gave him a stomachache.
"Oh yes," Alfred said, starting to gain the same nostalgic look in his eyes every time he recalled memories of the boys in their younger days. "Master Bruce never partook in eating sweets so I made them especially for Master Jason. He'd always eat the full batch of whatever I made. Well, until the cavities, of course—then I was ordered by Master Bruce to stop making them."
There was a pause in the air.
"Cavities?" Damian said, the first to break the silence. "As in, plural? More than one?"
"Oh, yes, it was horrible. Master Jason had started complaining about toothaches. He looked absolutely miserable so I had to call around Gotham to set up the earliest dentist's appointment that I could find," Alfred said. He chuckled a little. "Of course, I didn't think to hide the candy jar. A mistake on my part, really."
"This has to be fake," Damian said, leaning back in his chair. "There is no way Todd, Red Hood, has a sweet tooth."
Even Tim felt a bit incredulous. Bless Alfred, but his memory was spotty at times. He always had to cycle through all the Robins' names every time he needed to call for one of them (Tim had been dubbed 'Master Damian' far too many times for his liking), and the butler always recounted the same stories over and over. It was difficult to imagine Jason, who only spoke about food when he was goading about meat in Damian's presence, as the type of person whose multiple cavities didn't stop him from stealing out of candy jars.
"Thinking back on it, he was kind of a chubby kid," Dick said, tapping his chin. Damian immediately started snickering.
"Well, he was a kid, after all," Tim said, shrugging. "It's only normal."
"I don't know," Dick said, crossing his arms. "This… seems pretty extreme, even for a kid. Entire batches? That's like, eating a whole cake by yourself. Or a whole muffin tin. Even as someone who grew up surrounded by cotton candy machines, I have to say that's a lot." Dick glanced at Damian. "Damian's a kid and he doesn't eat like that."
"Sugar leads to too many health consequences. It's all about moderation," Damian said. As an afterthought, he added, "Also, I'm not a kid."
"I'm afraid I must agree," Alfred said dryly. "Of all the children who have stepped inside of this house, no one ate sweets like that boy."
Alfred left to put away his decorating supplies. The three boys remained circled around the kitchen island, likely the same thoughts running through their heads, trying to process this new information about Jason.
"Do you think Alfred is telling the truth? Or do you think he's mistaking Jason for someone else?" Tim asked after Pennyworth was out of earshot.
"It is weird. I know Jason was still a kid, but he was also a kid that was smoking cigarettes and stealing tires off of the batmobile. Hard to believe that he was sitting in this manor, stealing candy instead of booze from the liquor cabinet," Dick said.
"Do you suppose he's still like that?" Damian asked.
At that, everyone stopped.
"Oh my God," Dick said, covering his mouth. Clearly trying not to laugh.
"Do you think if I waved a chocolate bar in front of his face, he'd fight me for it?" Damian said, smirking.
Tim buried his face in his hand. "He's a person, Damian, not an animal. I'm sure he has more restraint than that. Besides, have any of you actually seen him eat something sweet?"
"Actually, you have a point. I haven't," Dick said.
"Neither have I. But surely there's a way to see if this story is true or not, right?" Damian said, rubbing his chin. "Perhaps we could conduct a test."
"Tim, you have to find out if this is real," Dick said.
"What?" Tim said, drawing back. "Why me?"
"Tt. Aren't you always going off about wanting to be the best detective? So do some detective work and figure this out!"
"That still doesn't explain why I have to do it."
"You talk to Jason more than any of us," Dick said, shrugging. "Just see if you can catch him in the act of eating something sugary and report back to us."
"Guys, this is weird. I'm not doing that," Tim said, crossing his arms.
"How is it weird?" Damian said, annoyed. "We're not asking you to spy on him. Just… see if you can tempt him a little. It'll be effortless."
"How?" Tim said. Then he realized his mistake—he should not be encouraging this behavior with questions.
"Next time you see him, just offer him something. See if he takes it, study how he reacts, and then tell us about it," Dick said, flashing him a smile.
Tim looked back and forth between Dick and Damian, who stared at him intensely as they waited for his answer.
Tim sighed.
Okay, maybe Tim was a little curious.
He wasn't expecting to be. But when he went out to the store, he found a neat little candy dish, and bought it with this feeling of unexpected excitement. His candy knowledge was limited—he knew that sugarcane originated from Southeast Asia, that the earliest candies were made of honey, that mint was good for digestion, that the word 'candy' could be translated into bonbons, caramelo, doce, godis, konfety, tángguǒ—so he just bought some standard hard candies, hoping they'd be sufficient.
He and Jason had already been working on a case together, so inviting him over to his safehouse wasn't overly suspicious. He neatly arranged the candy dish on his desk where it was plain to see, even positioning it so it'd be the first thing Jason would see when he entered the doorway. Tim placed all of the brightest looking candies near the top so it'd be particularly eye catching.
The amount of thought he put into the whole thing, plus the way his heart was racing when Jason finally announced that was he was nearing the safehouse, put things into perspective with Tim: he really wanted to see Jason eat a stupid candy.
He wasn't sure why. Maybe he just wanted to catch a small glimpse of the Jason that he had never gotten the chance to meet—the kid that loved Alfred's baking, as opposed to the grumpy twenty-something who swung around swords and aimed guns and had a killcount. He knew that Jason was multi-faceted—after all, Dick had a point, Tim did talk to Jason a lot—but at the end of the day, Tim only knew post-Lazarus Pit Jason.
Red Hood finally entered the safehouse, immediately making his way over to Tim's desk. Tim hid his disappointment when Jason didn't even so much as glance at the dish.
"So, any updates on the case?" Jason asked, straight to business. Tim never thought wanting to talk business would actually upset him.
Tim recounted as many details on the case as he could, which admittedly was not as much as he wanted. Progress on the case had been slow due to Tim's busy schedule. To Tim's horror, he was beginning to run out of things to say, and Jason had not once reached for the candy dish or even seemed to acknowledge it.
Tim finally concluded his report, to which Jason shrugged.
"Alright, cool. I'll get back to you," was all he said and he headed for the door as quick as he had entered it. Tim found himself panicking when Jason turned his back on him.
"Hey, uh," Tim said, speaking up. Jason glanced back at him. Deciding to just go for it, Tim slid the candy dish across the desk. "Do you want one?"
Jason knocked on his head, the enforced red mask making a hollow sound. "Can't."
"Oh, right," Tim said. He tried to resist the blush that was creeping onto his cheeks, feeling foolish. How could he have made such a simple miscalculation? He had been arrogant in thinking that this would be so simple. He resisted biting his lip and quickly said, "Well, I mean, you could just take it off."
At that, Jason's head tilted to the side. "Why would I do that? I thought you told the whole team that you wanted us to be in uniform at all times when we were in your safehouse."
"Oh. Right," Tim said, hanging his head. In the past, that never would have stopped Jason—Jason would yank off the hood every time he entered the safehouse and Tim yelled at him for it every time. Jason teased him incessantly about the rule, calling him paranoid and Batman Jr., but over time he finally complied.
This was the first time Tim regretted enforcing a rule.
"Anything else?" Jason asked. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I got other things I have to take care of so I should really get going, but if you need anything—"
"I. No." Tim rubbed his forehead, feeling stressed. "That's it. You can go."
They arranged a secret meeting at a rendezvous point to catch up on details and make their reports. Northwest corner of 80th and Cobblepot Road. Alleyway. 23:00. No exceptions.
Their purpose for meeting: to discuss evidence on Jason's sweet tooth.
"I counted it," Tim said. "There were thirty-two candies when Red Hood entered my safehouse. After he left, there were twenty-nine. He must have taken them when I wasn't looking."
"Do you have him on camera?" Damian challenged, crossing his arms. "Maybe you miscounted."
Tim felt indignant. "I don't miscount." But after a moment, his eyes shifted to the side, a faint flush on his face. "…But yes, I did check the cameras. There's a part where I think he might sneaked them into his pocket, but his back is turned to the camera so it's impossible to see. I replayed the footage a few times but—"
"You have to have a direct line of attack. You need to catch him eating it. Do it when he doesn't have the hood on," Dick said. After a moment of thought, Dick said, "You need to give him something completely irresistible. Something so good he'd have to eat it on the spot."
"I already looked into it," Damian said. He reached into his belt, handing over a slip of paper to Tim. Tim looked down at the business card. "Best truffles in Gotham."
"Truffles?" Tim said, shoulders slumping. "Okay, guys, we need to stop. This is bordering on ridiculous. Who's buying these? And how am I going to convince Hood to meet me outside of uniform just so I can give him chocolates?"
Tim realized he had repeated his mistake: he was asking questions.
"No sweat. I'll pay you back for it," Dick said, waving him off. "As for meeting him—I don't know, just pretend you need to see him for something important."
Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. At the action, Damian huffed.
"Come on. You can't quit now."
Damian was right. Tim was naturally a curious person.
And he was too damn invested at this point.
Tim couldn't recall ever visiting a confectionery. He wasn't expecting the glass displays of little chocolates and the dozens of flavors. He… also wasn't expecting the price.
The fanciest truffle shop in Gotham didn't mess around. He hoped Dick was going to follow up on his promise about covering the bill.
Tim requested a box of the four sweetest truffles, to really put his mission to the test. The shop went the whole nine yards. They wrapped up the little gift box in red wrapping paper, complete with a white tulle bow. Tim found it odd, wondering if it was exhausting and expensive to wrap up each and every box they sold, but he chalked it all up to the luxury of the place.
He followed Dick's advice. He told Jason to meet him up at a local café. He kept his explanation on the phone call short and vague, in hopes of increasing Jason's concern and suspense. He didn't tell him Jason why he needed him to be there, he simply just said that they needed to meet right away.
Tim kept the small box of truffles concealed under the table, feeling anxious. He hadn't quite planned what he was going to say. From his spot by the glass window, he caught a glimpse of a familiar leather jacket. Jason was approaching—lifting his head, he caught Tim staring, and waved his hand once, a crooked half-smile on his face. Tim just waved back dumbly, probably still looking like a nervous wreck.
"What's up?" Jason said, taking a seat. "It's not often you call me out in civvies."
Tim's plan had worked. Jason had showed up right away. Now he just needed to hand over the box.
"I wanted to give you something," Tim said. He hadn't come up with a better reasoning to make the trip worth Jason's time, and the box was already wrapped up like a gift besides.
Jason eyed Tim a little strangely—but there seemed to be a tinge of amusement in his gaze. "You called me all the way out here to give me something? Must be pretty important."
Tim wasn't sure how to respond so he just slid the box across the table.
Jason paused, staring down at the tiny wrapped box. Tim's heart started to race, wondering if Jason was starting to suspect him. Jason seemed to be staring at the box a little too long for Tim's liking, and the young detective's paranoia was quickly crawling up. When Jason finally looked at him, the corner of his mouth instantly quirked up. He looked at Tim the same way someone might look if they suspected a prank.
"What is this?" Jason said.
"You have to open it," Tim said. Keep it vague.
"Okay," Jason said slowly, gaze lost in deep thought. Tim felt his mouth go dry.
Jason slowly pulled on the ribbon, seeming almost tentative. He hooked his fingers underneath the folds of the red wrapping, unveiling the box.
"Chocolate," Jason said when he lifted the lid. Tim wasn't sure how to read his tone. Maybe… the set-up for all of this was too weird, Tim was beginning to realize. Tim rarely gave gifts, especially out of the blue. Maybe Jason realized he was being observed. Maybe it would have been a better strategy to have just dropped the box off at his house and spy on him after all. Jason stared down at the truffles for a moment before glancing up at Tim. "Um, thanks." He had this strange expression on his face. Jason shifted in his chair and even rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "I didn't—I didn't get you anything."
"Oh, no, this isn't repayment for anything. This was a surprise," Tim said, waving his hand dismissively.
"Oh," Jason said, looking as if he had just realized something.
Tim panicked a little. Jason had definitely caught on. Tim needed to backpedal, stat. "I'm sorry. You don't need to accept it—"
"No, I want to keep it," Jason said, eyes locking with Tim's. He sounded almost determined. Tim tried not to look too relieved. But then Jason put the lid back onto the chocolates and tucked the box inside the pocket of his jacket, and Tim nearly fell over in his chair.
He mentally cursed himself for ever getting involved in this plot. But then Jason offered to buy him a coffee, and it seemed like things had worked out alright in the end.
Tim was in his safehouse when the computer suddenly announced Jason's presence at the door. Tim wasn't expecting the visit but let him in anyways.
When he looked up, he noticed that Jason was tugging off the hood and fixing his hair. His natural instinct was to sharply remind Jason to put it back on, but then he remembered that the last time they had met in the safehouse, Tim had told him to take it off. So he shut his mouth, feeling frustrated with himself.
Tim also noticed a folder tucked under Jason's arm. Jason immediately handed it to him.
Tim didn't ask. He immediately opened the folder, staring at two mugshots.
"What's this?"
"That case we were working on. I went ahead and solved it, based on the lead you gave me."
Tim frowned to himself. That couldn't be right. He had seen Jason just yesterday, there was no way he solved it already.
"I don't understand—"Tim started, but when he faced Jason, Tim observed the faint circles underneath Jason's eyes. Perhaps from working long nights. Holy shit, he actually did solve it. In just a few days. "Why? It could have waited."
"Well, you kept talking about how busy you were. I thought you might want the case off your shoulders. Consider it a gift."
Tim just blinked. Jason shrugged a little, suddenly seeming awkward which—wasn't like him.
"I mean, you're always complaining about capitalism and consumerism and junk, so I figured you wouldn't want something material in return. So I got a bit creative—and punchy, which is honestly what I do best so it was no problem at all. So… yeah." Jason shrugged. "Happy Valentine's Day."
"Valentine's Day?" Tim repeated, looking at Jason with a lost expression. But as soon as the words left his mouth, his mind clicked.
Valentine's Day.
The fancy truffles.
Presented in the middle of a nice coffeehouse.
On a request to meet urgently, in civilian clothes.
In a box wrapped up in red.
Heat immediately rushed to Tim's face. How? How did he forget that it was Valentine's Day?
"Jason, I wasn't—no, that was just—"Tim stammered. His brain was racing in a million different directions, trying to formulate the best solution to this unpredicted dilemma. Should he apologize outright? Roll with it? Say that it was platonic? Explain that it was all a plan set up by him, Damian and Dick? Should he make a diversion and escape? Smoke bomb, second pouch on the left, fifteen seconds for the smoke to clear, enough time to get to the terminal where he could make a break for Red Bird and speed out of there. Alternative: tranquilizer darts, back pouch, thirty seconds until the body sinks into unconsciousness—no, likely forty seconds with Jason's trained intolerance—and then he could spend the next few hours coming up with a plausible speech to give to Jason when he awoke, explaining that everything was just a dream.
Although, the problem with being a fast-thinker was that Tim's mind was processing more ideas rather than actually deciding on what the hell he should do. Jason, impatient, spoke up—interrupting Tim's thoughts.
"Tim," Jason said, snapping him out of it. "What's wrong? Just say it."
Now Tim's mind was flickering through every scenario, every memory, of Jason exploding. Every argument, every barked insult, every punch.
"Jason, those chocolates weren't for Valentine's Day, they were—"Tim started, but he stopped. He suddenly realized that he wasn't afraid. Instead he just… felt guilty. Guilty for tricking Jason. With a sigh, he confessed, "Look, it's stupid. But I just… when I gave you those truffles, I just wanted to see if you'd eat them."
Tim had never felt stupid until Jason looked at him blankly, slowly blinking at him.
"You… wanted to see…" Jason's face scrunched up in confusion and disbelief. "…if I'd eat them?"
Tim had no one but himself to blame, really. He should have never let Dick and Damian talk him into this. "Alfred was telling this story about… your cavities." Tim paused, wishing that Jason would stop staring at him like that. Tim's eyes darted to the side, trying to look elsewhere so he wouldn't have to keep looking at Jason's dumbfounded expression. "He said that you ate a lot of sweets but I didn't believe him. So… I wanted to test it." Tim's gaze fell on the desk. He grabbed the candy dish that was sitting there. "That's why I offered you this first. But you were wearing the hood. So I did the thing with the truffles instead."
Jason just kept staring at him. Tim took a step back, suddenly feeling nervous. He waited for Jason's inevitable outburst—the same hot-tempered anger he lashed out on everyone else. But then suddenly the corner of Jason's mouth suddenly turned.
"Why didn't you just ask?" Jason said.
Tim blinked, too stunned to be relieved.
"Uh, because—"Tim stammered, but then he stopped. He… actually didn't have a proper answer for that. "I don't know. I think I just assumed you wouldn't tell me the truth."
"When have I lied to you?"
Tim suddenly felt embarrassed. The whole thing had been silly. His eyes flickered to the side, avoiding eye contact. "I don't know. Like I said, it was really stupid."
"Yeah," Jason said. When he heard light laughter, Tim finally looked up at him. Jason quickly shut his mouth but his eyes were still crinkled in amusement. "It was really stupid."
Tim finally felt the relief sink in. Okay, so Jason was teasing, but that was nothing unusual. The important thing was that he wasn't mad. That was good.
Tim idly tapped his fingers on the side of the dish, and after a moment of thought, he said, "I'm sorry. I feel bad. Getting the information on that case probably wasn't easy. It was a really great gift. Thoughtful, even. All because I gave you those stupid truffles."
"Not stupid truffles. The truffles. And you somehow managed to pick two of my favorite flavors."
Tim stopped tapping his fingers on the dish. He looked up, face falling. "What?"
"After my cavities, I kind of… rethought my eating habits. But I still love eating that junk," Jason said. Tim blinked twice. Jason didn't comment on Tim's shock, he just pointed to the dish in his hand. "And I totally stole from that dish when you weren't looking. I'm surprised you didn't count them."
"I did," Tim said, looking down at the little wrapped candies. An idea struck him. He held out the dish. "Happy Valentine's Day?"
"Are you trying to make me relapse?" Jason said. He shrugged a shoulder. "Keep them."
"Oh. I actually hate candy."
"What? No one hates candy."
"I do. My parents never let me have any growing up. So when I was old enough to start having it on my own, I didn't have the taste for it. It's all too sweet—and a bit overrated."
"Of course," Jason said, rolling his eyes. "It's only natural that our team's biggest nerd would come from an entire nerd family."
Tim considered the dish for a moment. When he thought about it, he hadn't really had a piece of candy in quite awhile, and he couldn't really remember if he ever tried a simple piece of hard candy. Whenever he was faced with something sweet, he just automatically assumed he wouldn't like it, so he just never bothered trying. He set the dish back down and plucked one of the candies from the top.
He twisted the foil, hearing the wrapper crinkle in an almost satisfying sound, and popped the candy into his mouth. The sweet taste of cherry tingled against his tongue.
It wasn't… awful.
"You look miserable," Jason said, his voice breathy, almost on the verge of laughter. Tim considered spitting it back up into the wrapper. He looked up at Jason with an expression of disgust, hoping to earn one last laugh, but stopped when he locked eyes with Jason. Jason had been watching him with this softened expression. He murmured under his breath, his voice warm, "You're so cute."
Tim felt his heart skip.
His only reaction in the moment between Jason ducking and their lips meeting was the heat that rose to his face. Tim wasn't sure what he imagined Jason's kiss might feel like—maybe rough, lips chapped, teeth biting. It was surprisingly warm.
Surprisingly soft.
Tim's eyelids fell shut almost instinctively, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt Jason's hand cup the side of his face, thumb stroking against the side of his cheek, encouraging him to tilt his head back ever so slightly. Their kiss deepened, Jason's mouth firm against his. He felt Jason's tongue against his bottom lip, and everything felt hazy in that split second. Tim's lips parted, a single, soft sound crushed by their kiss, feeling Jason's tongue brush against his own.
When they parted, Tim felt the swell in his chest, the warmth in his face, and realized that he had almost forgotten to breathe.
Jason looked down at him, hand still on Tim's cheek. Before Tim could ask why, or maybe even request to do it again, Jason suddenly grinned at him.
Placed between his teeth, Tim spotted something red.
Tim clapped his hand over his mouth, just now noticing that it was empty. Heat immediately rushed to his face.
"You're so gross!" Tim said and he pushed on Jason's chest.
Jason barely budged an inch under Tim's force. He just stood there, his laughter louder than Tim's protests.