A/N: Wow. Just...wow. I didn't expect my story to have three followers (that I know of) on the same day I posted it. Big shout out thanks to CataclysmicIrony, SherlockXHolmes23, and JimmyEdz for reviewing. So, as you pointed out, it is short (I lose focus if I type the same story for too long) and so far I've only written Jason's POV. In this chapter I'll try to squeeze them both in, okay? Okay.

Tim screwed his eyelids tighter together, though he was wide awake via Jason's insistent nudging at his side. He knew if he didn't show some form of consciousness Jason would pinch his nose closed, sealing his airways until he stirred.

"Jason, if the alley isn't on fire I'm not getting up."

"Close; it's actually an earthquake. And if it causes a flood your skinny ass can't swim and I ain't doin' mouth to mouth."

Tim sighed, opening his eyes, and stretching out along the brick wall behind him, shivering as Jason's leather jacket slipped off his shoulders a little, internally smiling at the pops his spine made. Jason stood up next to him, a full head taller, broad shouldered and muscled despite a lack of nutrition.

A big hand, well, big in comparison to his slender, scrawny fingers, found purchase in his mess of hair, ruffling the raven locks. If it were anyone else, even if Tim had a friend besides Jason, he would crouch down on his neck like a turtle, or sidestep the affection and blush beet red. But since it was Jason, his brother, all he had in the world, his whole world, he leaned into the touch.

"We gonna go jack someone's tires?"

"How'd ya know?"

"The ground usually shakes a little more when there's an earthquake. " Even from in front of him (they were walking out of the alley and down the sidewalk now) Jason could hear the smirk in the smug little punk's voice.

"Smartass."

Tim laughed, tire iron dangling loosely at his side. Tim's laugh, and laughs similar to his, were not like the bird boy's laughs; laughs like Tim's were not uncommon. Because when Tim or Jason laughed it was always at someone's stupidity, something bittersweet and humorless, and-or their own banter. It was not so much a laugh as it was a big release of air, rivuleted to make a noise that sounded like a laugh. Not a joyful sound. Bittersweet, like salt mixed in honey or eating pretzels after eating a lot of sugar. Bittersweet.

It was in their sights now, a beautiful car, black and sleek like a raven and sitting there, oh-so innocently and vulnerable. Jason smirked, walking across the street with his little brother in tow, taking the cinderblocks from underneath the desolate apartment (adjacent to the Batmobile) and hefting them over the curb.

Tim smirked, he loved this part. Or rather, the part right after this where they either got to run while shouting obscenities or stand from a distance and watch the person scratch their head at the mystery of their missing tires and the two smiling, dirty, greasy boys across the street, snickering happily.

Jason took the rusty iron from his hand on got to work on the side facing the street while Tim stood, blocking him from view while looking as innocent as a homeless kid on Crime Alley standing in the street at midnight can look. He was good at it, too.

A black shadow, foreboding and ominous slid over him and his eyes widened as what he thought was some kind of person appeared and stalked closer.

"Uh, J-J-Jason..."