Family Times Chapter 38 Schoolboys Are No Match

Last night had been a long night. The auction had been going fine, Daddy Swift having been in the process of repurchasing his guilty little secrets when the planned strike went ahead. Matches had been arrested and escaped in transit. The goods had been seized, to be returned to their proper owner. The guests had all been questioned before being released. A few hired thugs were arrested.

Jason had spent the evening with his new girl. Holly was worth every cent he gave her. Of course, he'd technically been on call (though it was deemed prudent he had an alibi, just in case), and so, stayed near his safehouse. Luckily, he hadn't been called.

Holly was an interesting girl to factor in. Jason wasn't sure if he loved her, as their dates would suggest; sure, she was fit, and he liked her company, and her smile, her laugh, THAT DAMN TWINKLE IN HER EYE that was so familiar but he just couldn't place. Not love, not really, but nice enough. And who knew? It was still early days.

Anyway, after dropping his Holly off at a semi-respectable time, he'd been sent to drag Tim out of the Secret Annexe and help him get started on putting together evidence. The younger teen had not been happy, and protested heavily until Jason got around to telling him that yes, it was two already and he needed to get started on the paperwork. Which did quiet Tim down, up until he started telling Jason what to do…

Why he needed an exact description of each and every item recovered from the raid, Jason had no idea. Why he hadn't catalogued them earlier, before the auction, was an even bigger mystery.

At least Tim appeared to be finding the whole process just as infuriatingly annoying.

The arrogant boor that was Darren Swift had accosted him after English class. Clearly not happy. "I know you had a hand in what happened last night," he'd hissed.

"Last night?" Jason'd drawled. "Spent it with my girl. Dinner and some dances. Why; did something happen?"

Darren had given him a flat, angry, disbelieving glare, refusing to answer. Jason had turned away to hide his smirk, and catch up with Tim.

That had been three classes ago. French finished with and Math homework half done (Tim had appeared to be doing something a little more Bat on his micro, too) and off to lunch. Stop off at the lockers, drop off both bags, check they've got their cards, ignore Tim's patronizing glare-

Wait, where's Tim?

'He's injured, and your responsibility,' Bruce growled disappointedly in his mind.

'He's meant to be able to take care of himself,' said the vaguely Arabic violent streak.

'C'mon, he's your brother,' the Dick/Tim voice said. That one always pointed him to what a proper Robin should do. Strange irony it sounded like both the one he'd usurped and the one who'd usurped him. But he didn't feel like a proper Robin, so why bother trying?

'Jason. Find your brother,' an Alfred-voice said. And that settled it. Jason turned and started to look.

After a moment, he found the younger teen, practically pinned to the wall by none other than Darren Swift. His cronies were flanking him, and Swift himself seemed to be whispering something in Tim's ear. Tim seemed supremely unconcerned.

"So you had a little disappointment last night," Tim responded, loud enough for the entire hallway to hear. "I fail to see why you think I know anything about it." Swift tensed his right arm. "But I do know two things you seem to have neglected," Tim added softly, tensing his own muscles.

What happened next should have been obvious to everyone, even the civilians. To Jason, it looked like Tim was screaming his intentions. He hadn't seen such obvious tensing of muscle on anyone except rank amateurs. Swift swung a punch at Tim's nose, which he dodged and retaliated with an elbow to the throat, knee to the groin, and hooking Swift's ankles from beneath him. Tim slipped between the cronies and crouched next to his fallen classmate.

"First, it really never occurred to you that, with the number of times we've been attacked, Bruce would get us some self-defence training?" Tim whispered, soft enough to be sinister, but loud enough to reverberate through the silent hallway. "Seriously. We've been getting kidnapped since our dear eldest brother's first day in school. And second, I'm the pacifist of the family, and I just kicked your butt without any difficulty whatsoever, even with my hands off-limit. I wonder how well you'd do against Cass, or Jason, both of whom had periods of their lives spent fending and defending themselves on the streets." Just for effect, Tim looked up and very deliberately met Jason's eyes. "Oh look, there's Jay now," he said coldly.

Remembering the truce, and the near-unanimous clamouring of the voices, Jason sauntered forwards, clasping Tim's forearm as the younger rose. "What he means," Jason said loudly, turning to Swift, who was still mewling on the floor, "Is that if you try any of that shit again, I will personally ensure you spend the next six months in traction." He turned away, then threw over his shoulder, as an afterthought. "Get your butt off the ground, you're not that hurt."

"Jason," Tim said, half approvingly, half cautioning.

"I could knock his teeth out for you," Jason offered, only half joking.

"Nah, it's a bit of a bother," Tim replied. "Even if it's just milk teeth." He rotated his jaw unconsciously, and Jason remembered that Tim had lost his last two molars via a fist over the summer.

"If you're sure," Jason shrugged. Tim had the lead, but the inner voices clamoured for retribution. Even faux-Bruce growled protectively. They – he - would be waiting.