As soon as they'd shook on the deal, Jason let go of Tim's hand and started rummaging around in a drawer in the coffee table.
"What are you doing?" Tim asked, watching Jason pull out and put aside various papers, household wares, small mechanical items…
"Looking for a burner phone," Jason replied.
Tim blinked. "And why are you looking for a burner phone?"
"So you can use it to call Batman, duh," Jason retorted, looking up from his search.
Pulling his own phone from his suit pants pocket, Tim held his phone up. "Or I could use this?"
Jason sat back on his heels. He stared at Tim and said flatly, "You had a phone. In your pocket. The entire time. You could've called Bruce for help the entire time."
"And why would I have called Bruce for help?" Tim challenged.
Jason continued to stare at Tim. "You're an idiot, and as soon as you are done talking to Bruce, I am going to strangle you."
"Rude," Tim said. "Also, that'll probably get you grounded or something. You know, once I go back to my parents and you go back to being Jason Todd."
Jason made a strangling gesture with both hands toward Tim.
Being the metaphorically bigger person, Tim ignored that gesture. He unlocked his phone and pulled up Bruce's personal number, pressing "call."
Jason promptly stole the phone out of Tim's hands and sprinted several steps away.
"Hey!" Tim said, sprinting after him. "What-"
Jason stopped, tapped on the phone's screen for a moment, then tossed the phone back to Tim.
Tim had just enough time to look down at the screen and recognize that Jason had turned on speakerphone mode when Bruce picked up.
"Hello, Tim," Bruce said, sounding a little concerned already. "Is everything all right?"
"Of course, everything's fine," Tim said, watching Jason.
Jason placed a finger at his own lips, clearly indicating he planned to remain silent.
Too bad for him. Tim said loudly, watching with interest as Jason's face spasmed, "Yeah, it's all fine, and you're on speakerphone!"
"Ah," Bruce said, pausing for just a fraction of a second before his voice brightened. "Then hello there, Jack, Janet!"
"Sorry, they can't come to the phone right now," Tim said.
"Why? Because they're dead to us," Jason muttered.
"I don't think I quite caught that last part," Bruce said mildly as Tim shoved Jason and Jason shoved Tim back so hard that Tim almost fell over. Bruce continued, sounding more concerned now, "And I thought you were out with your parents today, Tim. Something about the opera?"
"An opera of pain," Jason muttered.
"For a guy who was going to be silent at first, you sure have a lot to say," Tim hissed.
Jason shoved Tim again, and this time, Tim really did fall over.
"Hey!" Tim yelped as he banged his knee on the coffee table's still-open drawer, dropping the phone.
"Tim?" Bruce asked, although it was more like a demand than a question. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing much," Tim said casually, glaring at Jason from the floor. "Well, actually, a lot, but not for me. Hey, could you come meet us?"
"Us," Bruce echoed, his voice hardening. "Tim, what's going on?"
"Hey, where's he going to meet us, anyway?" Tim asked Jason.
Jason sputtered for a moment. "You don't know where we are?"
"Well, you see, sometimes, when you get kidnapped by a crime lord, you kind of maybe dissociate just an itty-bitty bit and miss things like whether or not he told you where he took you or not!" Tim hissed back.
From the phone, also still on the floor, Bruce was saying something, but Tim wasn't paying much attention to it, because Jason was hissing back, "Your training! Remembering street signs! Looking for landmarks! Keeping track of basic directions! Any of that ring a bell?"
"Again, maybe a bit of dissociating," Tim repeated. "It makes sense, okay?"
"Ah, because Robin dissociating the same instant a crime lord shows up makes sense," Jason said snidely.
"It wasn't that same instant!" Tim objected, flinging his arms out and banging his hand on the coffee table itself this time. "Ow! And there were a bunch of other extenuating circumstances! Like, uh, my parents being at gunpoint! And also you being you! And also-"
Stalking forward, Jason raised his voice in interruption, saying, "Number 1989, 442 Lone Place! On the edge of Crime Alley, obviously!"
Bewildered, Tim blinked for a moment as Jason repeated himself.
"Number 1989, 442 Lone Place," Jason said just as loudly. "You didn't know where we were, now you do, congratulations, do you want a prize?"
"In fact, I do," Tim said back equally loudly, laying on the sarcasm thickly. "And as a prize, I would like… For you to shut your big mouth and butt out!"
"Oh, sure, you want me to butt out," Jason said sarcastically back, crouching down and placing his hands on his knees, like Tim was some little kid to be talked to like that. "Maybe I should've done that in the first place! Maybe I should've butted out before I offered a deal to your parents, back when I found out that they were selling you to random people for torture-"
"It wasn't torture!" Tim screamed. "I know it! It can't, I don't, it wasn't torture!"
"Oh, right, because we had this conversation already! It wasn't torture, it was just betrayal of familial trust and a bunch of completely horrifying abuse!" Jason yelled back.
"No! It! Wasn't!" Tim shrieked, and he scrambled toward Jason on all fours, intent on getting Jason to shut up-
A loud beep.
Tim froze mid-scramble and looked down.
His hand had landed on his phone, which now read "call ended."
Oh. Right. Bruce.
Oops.
Tim looked up at Jason.
Jason looked down at Tim.
"Uh, that didn't add up to how I thought that conversation with Bruce was going to go," Tim admitted.
"To be fair, I don't think Bruce had much of a part in the conversation," Jason mused. He straightened into standing but put out a hand.
Tim eyed the hand warily for a moment, then he sighed and accepted it, pulling himself into standing as well. "So now what?"
"Now we wait for Bruce," Jason said. Then he winced. "But, uh, given how that 'conversation' went… I'm certain we're waiting for Batman."
"We're waiting for Batman. And I repeat," Tim said flatly. "So now what?"
Jason gave a thoughtful hum. "Well, since you broke my TV-"
"No, you broke the TV," Tim said, pointing at it. "That break is clearly shaped like a boot-"
"Since you stole my boots and you broke my TV while wearing my stolen boots," Jason continued without missing a beat, "Clearly watching TV is out."
"Clearly," Tim said. He looked around for a moment. "Wait. The TV. Your TV? Is this where you live?"
Jason gave him a look. "What, are you dissociating again? Do I have to spell this one out for you too? Duh, I live here."
"And we just…" Tim said, his voice trailing off as he gestured around himself at the chaos.
Jason looked around. He made a little grunt, as if he'd just now seen for the first time what they'd done to the place. "Ah. Yeah. We trashed it all, didn't we."
"Yup," Tim said, even though it hadn't sounded like too much of a question. "Whoops."
Jason sighed deeply. Then he bent over and picked up a couch cushion, dusted it off absentmindedly, and placed it back on the couch.
Tim watched thoughtfully and a little guilty for a moment as Jason began to put away other things. Then Tim picked up the other couch cushion, dusted it off (wincing at the large tear he'd made in it by biting it when Jason had thrust it forward defensively during their earlier fight), and placed the couch cushion back on the couch.
Tim looked up from the couch to see Jason staring at him.
"What?" Tim challenged.
Jason shook his head and kept on cleaning but now with a smirk. Wait, no. Not with a smirk. With a little smile? It almost looked like a little smile.
Huh.
So Tim kept going.