Again, this is an alternate universe, where Dick became Nightwing, but Batman never caught Jason stealing the wheels off the Batmobile.

This addition takes place roughly 2 weeks after the last I would say.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tim ran across the rooftops making his way through the streets of Gotham. It had been a long weekend, one of which that had taken Bruce and him out of town, leaving things temporarily in the hands of Dick while they carried out their mission. It had been long and tiring, but they had accomplished what they had set out to do with little interference. They had returned earlier in the day, and had only gotten a few hours' sleep before patrol had started, and because of this, Nightwing had offered to stay in town one final night and help them keep things in order in their tired state.

As nice as it was to get out of dodge occasionally, he had missed Gotham. He always felt safest in familiar territory, and he knew the streets and rooftops of Gotham like the back of his own hand.

He had also been anxious to return home so he could monitor the subject of his attention, the dark haired older teen.

They had not crossed paths on a face to face meeting since their first, but Tim had continued lurking in the shadows.

Two nights before their weekend excursion the teen had entered a secluded street fight, something Tim had thought counterproductive considering what he did most nights relied partly upon him not having a battered face, at least until he had actually seen him fight. The teen had come away with little more than a bruised bicep, a throbbing shin, and some busted knuckles, and had walked away with three hundred dollars in his pocket grinning like a Cheshire cat. The other participants had not been quite as lucky.

He had watched him walk up to a vender, grab a couple of chilidogs, and eat with feet dangling off a fire escape above the food vendor before he had had to return to patrolling.

The following night he had watched him put the beat down on a man peddling drugs near his typical corner, when he had attempted to sell to two young boys. Tim had almost jumped in himself before the teen had beaten him to it. Tim HAD called in it though, and the teen had made himself scarce as the GCPD squad car rolled in and picked the man up. A half hour later, Tim had watched a man in his mid-twenties pull up on a Harley, and drive off with the teen seated behind him.

Again, his stomach had churned.

It was nearing 4am, and Tim was doubtful that the boy would be at his typical hangout, but he had not had the chance all night to break away and catch sight of him. Now, when he should be heading home, it was only chance he would get to do a swing by. It was not as though anyone was waiting for him to return home. Reminders like that had him wishing all the more he could just live at the manor with Bruce and Alfred…

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind with a sigh, he touched down on the roof across from the teen's usual haunt.

And there he was, much to Tim's surprise.

The raven haired teen sat curled against the brick wall, knees to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, staring out at the empty street. Tim frowned, taking in his state of dress. Again, it was a cold night, only in the mid-forties, and he was only wearing a pair of raggedy too-small blue jeans, a threadbare black t-shirt, and a beat up pair of high top canvas shoes.

And that was just not something Tim could live with.

He was shooting his grapple to the building across from him before he could really even think about what he was doing. He knew immediately that he had been louder than normal when the teen's head jerked up, and he turned his gaze towards the alley with a hesitant look, scanning the shadows expectantly.

Cursing himself for his carelessness (for if he could forget to be covert while approaching a familiar civilian, he could do it just as easily in the presence of Batman, and that just would not do), he dropped down into the alley below, stepping out into the range of the streetlight.

"Bit late for you isn't it, Bird-boy? Normally you capes are outta here earlier."

Tim frowned as the teen approached him shivering, and leaned against the stone wall of the alleyway.

"Last run before home. Why are you still out?"

"Seriously asking me that? You already know the answer." He snorted. "Been a slow night tonight. No interesting side gigs, and no one interested in my kind of company. Shit happens." He chuckled darkly before running a shaky hand through his wind mussed hair. "Be here 'til sunrise. If I ain't got nothin' by then, well, sucks to be me. I'll go back to my hole, cold and hungry, and do it all again tonight. Vicious cycle, but that's life."

Tim's frown only darkened further, and his shoulders slumped as he resisted a sigh. Regardless, the older teen seemed to sense the mood going sour, and cocked his hip with a smirk before closing in on the Robin.

Tim tensed and flattened himself against the wall, breath hitching in his throat as the boy scraped his hands up his chest, and quickly clasped the edges up his cape.

"Here to warm me up again, Robin?" The older boy smirked widely as Tim flushed, and raised a hand to push against his chest in attempt to regain some of his personal bubble.

With a small laugh, the raven haired teen pressed against the edge of the cape's collar, relishing in the immediate surge of heat that erupted. He wrapped the ends of the cape around himself, pressing his form tightly against Tim's chest, encasing them both in the heated confines of the firm yet flowy fabric. Tim gasped as icy hands clasped the bare portion of his arms, and felt the other boy shudder in relief as he regained feeling in his chilled limbs.

Tim knew he should not be allowing this closeness, this invasion of his- Robin's personal space, but he could not help feeling the surge of emotions that washed over him. Anger that some chain of events had put the other boy in this position, where he had to fend for himself by doing such self-degrading, illegal, immoral things. A surge of overwhelming protectiveness that had him wanting to forever keep the other boy tucked under his cape and out of harm's way. Sadness in that there was only so much he could possibly do to help the other teen. And regret, that in being Robin he was unable to spend very much time shadowing him, learning about him, and making sure he stayed healthy and safe like he had done with Bruce and Dick.

Bruce would never approve, never allow this closeness with a civilian whilst in costume. He would never understand.

With a sigh, and slight shiver, he firmly but slowly pushed the other boy back.

"How about I go get us some very late dinner, and we eat up there by the laundry vent where it's warmer?" He offered up with a small smile.

The teen stared at him warily before slumping slightly, releasing his hold on Tim, and backing out of the warmth of the cape.

"Yeah… sure." He muttered.

Tim tilted his head slightly, observing the change in attitude as he watched the other back up and prop himself up against the opposite wall. With a barely noticeable shrug, he pulled out his grapple and shot off towards the roof. From there he traveled by rooftop.

He returned fifteen minutes later, to-go bag in his gauntlet clad hand. The older teen neglected to notice his return until Tim announced himself, grabbing his attention.

"Hey, can you get up here on your own?" He asked, perched on a ledge two stories up.

He watched as the boy visibly jumped and sought out his location with wide eyes. Noticeably dumbfounded, he nodded. Before Tim could really register what was happening, the teen hopped and shimmied up the side wall, latching onto a window ledge before launching himself through the air to the otherside of the alleyway and slinging to the side of the rickety fire escape. He pulled himself up and over, and eagerly ran up the stairwell where he plopped down at Tims side near the hotel's warm vent.

Tim could not help but again be impressed with the abilities that seemed to come naturally to the other boy when he himself had had to put hours of training in each day to achieve such skill. With a grin, he sat beside him and ripped the paper bag open.

"You came back." The other boy said, breaking the short silence, and Tim paused.

"I- well, I said I was going to get food, didn't I?"

His confusion brought a smile to the teen's face, who shook his head slightly.

"Didn't think you'd come back. Thought I overstepped my bounds and you were making a polite get away. Guess even I can be surprised every once and a while, huh?"

Tim was pretty sure his face showed how mortified he felt when the other looked alarmed.

"NO! I would have never left you like that!" Tim gasped, waving his hands in front of him in protest. "That would have been horrible, saying I was off to get us food, then ditching you. Especially when you told me you were hungry. I'm sorry I made you think that, honest!" he groaned, frantically returning to the bag in front of him, earning another odd look.

He placed a Styrofoam box and lidded bowl in front of the other boy first before retrieving his own box, and watched silently as he lifted the container to his face and sniffed.

"Is that what I- yes…" the older teen practically groaned as he lifted the lid, that Cheshire grin returning. "Fucking stalker… of course you would. Soup too? Awesome."

Tim grinned as the teen, disregarding the fact that the food was dripping as he lifted it from the tray, took a giant bite of the first chilidog, moaning in content as he swallowed. Tim was suddenly grateful that he was used to Dick showing great appreciation for food, otherwise the lewd noises the other boy was making would have seemed obscene.

The other boy had already finished the first of the two chilidogs by the time he remembered that he had his own food and should most definitely be eating it. He opened his pasta tray quickly, and twirled the spaghetti around the plastic fork carefully. After his first mouth full, the other boy shifted his position, and Tim looked up. The other said nothing as he scooted up against him and pulled the one side of the cape over his shoulders. Tim only gave a small smile, and returned to his food.

After several long moments, and the second chilidog had disappeared, the teen broke the silence once more.

"Jason."

Tim's fork paused inches from his mouth, and he turned his head.

"Pardon?"

The other boy laughed with a smile and reached for the soup cup.

"Name's Jason. Jason Todd. Thought you'd wanna know." He chirped, before slurping at his soup, grin still evident on his face even as he ate.

And with that, Tim knew he was in trouble, even before he returned Jason's grin.