A/N: AU where Jason never goes after Joker, thus never dies, thus never leaves the batfam. In this fic Dick is 24, Jason is 20, Tim is 15, Damian is 12. In case someone strayed here without paying attention to the summary here's your WARNING: Spanking Fic. Non-consensual discipline spanking of a teen by his older brother. Also, LOTS of swearing. Duh, Jason Todd is one of the two main characters :)

Tim was still high on serotonin as he fueled the bike, an elated grin plastered on his face. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the chrome handle of the gas pump and noticed the smears of red around his mouth and the impressive bruise on the side of his neck. His grin grew bigger. It was nice sporting these kinds of "scars" for a change. Melissa had been ruthless in the best possible way. She'd left him as drained and thirsty as Jason's bike. In the best possible way. His brain was light and blank. In the best possible way.

Not all parties sucked after all. He should definitely do this more often.

The sharp scent of gasoline filled the air as he stopped the pump, returned the nozzle to its hook, and paid with his credit card. The smell mingled with the cool night air, grounding him in the moment. Slipping on his black leather gloves again, he mounted the bike and revved it, savoring its roar and the rumbling beneath him.

He had been begging Jason to lend it to him for a ride for ages, and his asshole of a brother refused every single time. Tim was annoyed at the pang of guilt in his stomach. There was nothing to feel guilty about. It's not like Jason would need it tonight. And maybe, just maybe, if he had let him go for a ride, Tim wouldn't have been so hell-bent on taking Jay's bike. It's not like Bruce Wayne's garage didn't offer other options. Though, he had to admit, Jay's beauty had played the most crucial role in scoring Melissa tonight. He grinned again.

Best night of his freaking life.

The chilly air blew through his black hair, sending a shiver down his back. Jay's leather riding jacket had been huge on him, so he had opted to wear his own, which, of course, did nothing against the wind as he sped down the roads of Gotham towards the manor. He glanced at the bike's time indication. Bruce and Dick wouldn't be home yet. This greatly improved his odds of seeing the light of another day. As he approached the gate, he lowered the speed dramatically, barely caressing the accelerator to keep the bike upright and slowly moving towards the entrance of the Batcave that led to the designated garage. The bat-garage as he liked calling it.

Dark bat-garage. Yay.

A smug smile blossomed on Tim's face. Of course, it was dark. He was a methodical son of a bitch. Or of a bat? Whatever. He had done the math, calculated optimal times of departure and arrival, and had challenged Jay to a pushup marathon while training to ensure increased fatigue and decreased inclination to go out. Dick and Bruce were preoccupied with training the brat and were in full mama-goose mode, and Alfred was in bed by the time he left the house. Best-laid plans.

The door of the garage slid open with a soft hum. Tim caressed the accelerator, guiding the bike inside. The yellow beam of light illuminated the familiar surroundings. He let out a content sigh, savoring the quiet victory as he maneuvered the bike further into the garage. Then he saw it and his smile melted right off his face. Leaning against the wall, a certain fridge-sized figure glared at him menacingly.

Fuck. Crap. Fucking crap and crappy fuck!

Tim screeched the brakes and hastened to get off the bike, almost losing his balance in the process. With jerky movements, he kicked out the center stand of the bike, his eyes never leaving his pissed-off brother. Damn it. Jason stood to his full height and took purposeful steps towards him. Tim retreated slowly, extending a placating hand.

Fuckery fuck, this was not supposed to happen.

"Jay, my dude, I can explain!"

"Explain what you little shit? Stealing my bike?" Jason snapped, slamming his hand on the switch to turn on the light.

"I didn't steal your bike! Stealing implies the item is never returned to its rightful owner. And your precious is right here, returned, not a single scratch on her. And I filled her up, too! I mean, c'mon, dude!" Tim said with a nervous chuckle.

"Don't dude me, Tim! You're not even freaking 16! You don't have a fucking learner's permit yet! You don't get to ride beastly motorbikes yet," Jason boomed. "Especially not my beastly motorbikes and especially not without my fucking permission !"

"But I've been asking your permission for months, Jay!"

"And there's a fucking reason I'm not giving it…" Jason exclaimed, then abruptly paused, noticing his face and neck. "What the fuck happened to you? Did you get in a fight?"

"No," Tim immediately denied, trying to rub the smeared lipstick from around his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jason's lips twitched and his angry expression cracked. "Dude, you got laid?"

"Shut up!" Tim snapped, his voice pitching slightly.

Jason burst out in laughter then, noticing his neck. "Is that a fucking hickie?"

"Jason, shut the fuck up!" Tim growled.

"Is that why you took the damn bike? To impress a chick?" Jason asked with a disbelieving shake of his head.

Tim regarded him for a few seconds, uncertain of what would work in his favor as an answer. "Y…Yeah?"

"Are you asking me?" Jason asked, raising an amused eyebrow, as some of his previous intensity found its way back to his eyes.

"Dude, she's the hottest girl in school. And she has a thing for bikers, okay? I had to at least try!"

"You're not a biker, you little shit!"

"A biker is a person riding a bike! Thus, I am a rider when I ride a bike," Tim countered, patting the bike's seat. "You should see her freaking face… All of their faces when I arrived on this," Tim said excitedly. Hopefully.

Jason let out a disbelieving exhale. "Fuck that, Tim! You're miss popularity at school and we all know it!"

"Well, there's always room for improvement! Miss popularity or not I hadn't scored Melissa till now!"

Jason opened his mouth to retort, but paused again. Eyes squinting slightly as he eyed Tim head to toe. Slowly turning his gaze to the bike and then to the shelves mounted on the wall next to him, where they kept the helmets.

Tim gulped as he watched Jason doing the math. He followed his gaze as Jay did a mental count of the helmets. And then gripped the bike to steady himself when his brother's blazing eyes turned back to him, jaw setting.

" . . . .Helmet?"

Holy freaking crapfest!

Tim blinked. Jason's eyebrows raised as he took another menacing step towards him. This was so not how this night was supposed to end.

At least he wouldn't die a virgin.

"Please don't tell Bruce! I'm begging you!" Tim said, trying hard not to squeal.

"I'm not a snitch, you little runt! You know that! But let me tell you this… You're gonna wish I had told Bruce when I'm done with you!"

"Jay, c'mon man! You're the cool brother in the house! You're the bailing out brother! Don't you go all Dick on me!"

"If you don't want me to go all Dick on you, then don't steal my fucking bike to run amock without a helmet just to score some freaking chick! You're supposed to be the smart one, for fuck's sake! I'm the one pulling shit like this and you're the one bringing home trophies and being so responsible you Put Goldie-Dick to shame!"

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm not that perfect little kid anymore!" Tim snapped. "I'm sick and tired of everyone treating me like I should never fuck up!"

"You can fuck up, brat! But there's fucking up and there's needlessly putting your life on the line!"

"I'm one of the freaking Robins! I put my life on the line every other night! Literally," Tim exclaimed in what he hoped passed as passionate and self-righteous reasoning.

"Key-word needlessly, Tim! Robin is part of the good work. You put your life on the line to help and protect! Not for adrenaline rushes and scoring high-school bitches! Just… Do, like, normal teenage crap! Be late for curfew! Dye your hair blue! Get a tattoo and a piercing or ten! Get wasted again, that was acceptable fucking up! I wasn't pissed at you for that!"

"You don't get to tell me how to fuck up, Jay!"

"Watch me! I've pulled the no-care-in-the-world act, Tim! I've pulled the I-don't-give-a-fuck-if-I-die! I almost died on a number of occasions because of my stupid teen-hormones-conquered head. And you know what? This is fucking karma being a fucking bitch. This is me paying for my sins. Bruce must have somehow set this up just for the fucking giggles!" Pausing, he ran a hand through his hair before pointing a finger at Tim,

"I'm not gonna let you do the same shit I did no matter how many hissy fits you throw! If you have to copy someone in this house, go for Golden-Boy!"

"Been there, done that! You're far more interesting," Tim countered, crossing his arms. He couldn't believe he was arguing with Jason about acceptable forms of fucking up and which of his brothers he should copy.

"Get your ass over the bike!" Jason barked and Tim's eyes enlarged.

"What? No! You can't be serious!"

"A rare occurrence, I know. Now do as you're told!"

"No! Jay c'mon! Can't you punch me or something?"

"Oh, no! You're not getting out of this that easy, brat. I'll go full Bruce-Alfred-Dick combined on your ass," Jason said resolutely, unclasping the belt he was wearing and pulling it through the loops of his jeans.

Tim's eyes enlarged even more and his stomach dropped to his feet.

"Drop 'em and over the bike, Tim. Now!"

Jason's tone reminded him so much of Bruce's in that moment, that Tim found himself shuffling to the other side of the bike and fumbling with his jeans as if in a trance.

"What if Bruce and Dick come in?" Tim dared to ask as he lowered his pants and bent over the bike. Supported by its double stand and considerably heavier than him, it didn't even budge below him.

"Then you'll have to explain to them why I'm handing you your ass," Jason answered.

Tim whimpered at the mere idea and prayed to everything they wouldn't. Knowing that if Jason did this upstairs Alfred would definitely hear them, he didn't try to change his mind. If Alfred found out he'd chew him out AND tell Bruce. And then his ass was grass. Well, grassier than the grass it was about to be, anyway. Here, Tim knew they stood better chances of this staying between them.

Tim didn't have time to further contemplate things, as the doubled belt snapped forcefully against his bare ass. He sucked in a shocked breath.

Mother of all fucks this was gonna hurt .

Jason didn't bother with a warm-up. He went in full-force, bringing the belt down in a brisk rhythm going up and down Tim's ass and upper thighs again and again.

Tim was hissing by round two and bawling his eyes out by round five. His legs went from twisting in agony to limp noodles barely supporting him. The belt kept descending and Tim lost count somewhere after the twentieth lick, focusing entirely on sobbing and forming barely coherent promises and apologies.

Jason remained silent throughout the smack-down and Tim was grateful for it. He hated when Bruce -or Dick on the rare occasion- kept yapping, scolding and asking questions while lighting his ass on fire. The throbbing in his ass intensified to the point he thought his whole sitting region would combust. And then as suddenly as it had started it stopped.

Tim watched Jason depositing the belt right next to him on the bike's seat and felt his brother's hand clasping on his shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly.

Legs trembling, Tim redressed himself letting out a whine as his clothes rubbed against his deep fried ass. Standing up to his full height, he was trying to wipe his face with his hands, when Jason pulled him in a rough hug. Tim's face collided with his giant brother's broad chest and he awkwardly brought his hands to hug him back.

"If you touch my bike again, you can count on a replay. If you EVER ride ANY bike without a helmet again, you can count on the fact that you'll need an ass transplant when I'm through with you. Got it little shit?"

Tim blanched at the idea and silently nodded into Jay's black t-shirt. "Sorry," he mumbled after a few seconds.

"You should be. You turned me into fucking Dick. Now I gotta go do something insanely stupid to cleanse myself."

Tim snorted quietly as he broke the hug, breath still hitching. "I'm going to vanish in my room before the cavalry gets here."

"Yeah. You need your beauty rest after all the sex and bike riding," Jason said with a shake of his head. "Dumb brat."

Tim started walking slowly -and painfully- to the exit.

"Yo, Tim?"

"What?"

"Did you use a condom or is the no helmet-thing a general life value?"

Tim flipping him off was the only answer he got.

Jason was sitting crossed leg on the ground, engrossed in the process of shining his bike an hour later, when Bruce, Dick, and Damian returned.

"Dude, it's 3 am… What are you doing?" Dick asked.

"Couldn't sleep," Jason replied laconically. "How did it go? Killed anyone today little D?"

"Not today," Damian said in a shamelessly disappointed tone that made Jason snicker.

"To bed, Damian," Bruce said, removing the cowl. "Good work today."

"You didn't do so bad yourself, father," Damian returned as he walked towards the door that connected this section of the cave to the manor.

His turn to snicker, Dick patted Bruce's shoulder and followed Damian out, tossing a goodnight behind his shoulder.

"G'night Goldilocks," Jason sent to his general direction, still working the wax into the bike.

Bruce stepped closer and inspected Jason first and then the bike, his eyes zeroing in on the belt draped over the seat.

"What's that doing there?" He asked in a neutral tone.

Jason followed his gaze and shot him a look before shrugging. "Tim had to borrow it."

At Bruce's raised eyebrow, Jason clarified with a smirk, "the belt, not the bike. He probably left it there for me."

"Hm," Bruce grunted eloquently.

Getting to his feet and ignoring the man's penetrating gaze, Jason grabbed his belt and shot a smile to Bruce.

"G'night, B"

Bruce's lips twitched into the tiniest smirk as he replied, "G'night Goldilocks."

Jason's snorted chuckle was the only answer he got.