Title: Courting (Part 1)
Author: Alan Black
Request: 3000 words and a scenario of Cowboy and Princess finding a place to live (since Jay was camped out on Dick’s couch last time). Bonus 1 for the topic of shared living arrangements brought up during a fight (between each other or by team-up againsr Gotham baddies). Bonus 2 for sex to break in the new place and Bonus 2.5 for the nicknames being the only names cried out/used during said breaking in.
Word count: 1460
Notes: It is with pleasure that I bring you Nomen’s Land, the continuing Tim/Jason universe brought to you by the wonderful Nomen. Previous installments include Cakewalk and Convalescence. This naturally set itself into two parts, so I decided to post it that way. The second part should follow shortly. Also, if I haven’t mentioned it before, I’ve been using the song Yellow by Coldplay for the soundtrack and inspiration. It just seems to fit. Please enjoy. :)
“’The Red Right Hand of Justice’?” Tim repeated with an arched brow. The man beneath him grunted as he cinched the zip ties tightly around his wrists. “Really?”
“Hey, you mind?” the henchmen complained as Red Robin made short work of his ankles. “I’ve gots a delicate constitution.”
The vigilante straightened, putting his hands on his hips.
“You don’t like it?” Jason asked. He cold cocked another of the Penguin’s henchmen on the back of the head; the guy crumpled to the ground at his feet. He spread his arms, the gun loose in his hand. “Red Robin and Red Hood—Batman’s Red Right Hand.” A shrug. “Makes total sense to me.”
Red Robin pushed his cape over his shoulder, assessing the area. Penguin had fled the scene almost immediately, leaving his men to take the fall. Typical.
He glanced to his companion. “So now we’re a team?”
Jason smirked, slipping his gun back in its holster at his hip.
“Only if we can be the Red Right Hand of Justice.”
Tim frowned, poorly concealing the beginning of a smile. “I still think it sounds dirty.”
The Red Hood grinned, affecting a comedic accent. “Well, shit. If this is what Batman does with his right hand, they should see what he does with his left.”
Tim crossed his arms over his chest and didn’t quite laugh. “So now you’re a funny man? You auditioning for the position of Nightwing, or waxing nostalgic for Robin?”
“Princess, you’re the only Robin I want to think about,” Jason said as he stepped over the unconscious criminal.
Tim flushed under his cowl. Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight, but didn’t move when his brother stopped in front of him. A gloved hand cupped his jaw, moving down to clasp the side of his neck. When he spoke, Jason’s voice was playful and promising.
“Let’s call it good and let the night bird handle the rest of this.”
The teenager filed his automatic responses to Jason’s touch away logically and categorically—increased heart rate, sudden onset of warmth, a tingling sensation that went from the point of contact straight down to his—
“Your place or mine?” he breathed, licking his lips.
Having abandoned the full helmet six blocks back, it was obvious when Jason’s eyes narrowed slightly behind his mask. His hand tightened tellingly.
“Dammit,” he swore suddenly. “The archer’s crashing on his couch.”
Tim raised his hand, resting it on Jason’s wrist. His thumb worked its way under the edge of his glove. “We could always go home. Dad won’t be back for another few hours.”
Jason’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “Yeah, sure. You forgetting the last time we did that? The little hell spawn tried to blackmail us.”
The teenager laughed. “I know. But we’ve since come to an agreement. You know, once I swapped his motor oil with corn syrup.”
Jason snickered. “You almost killed the little fucker proving you were top dog.”
Tim shrugged, running his hand up over his brother’s bicep. “I didn’t start the game, let alone force him to play it.” He groaned as he was jerked forward. Jason’s breath was hot against his mouth.
“I love it when you do crazy, reckless shit like that. It turns me on.”
“Youse guys seriously related?”
The two vigilantes turned in tandem. Hands tied behind his back, legs much the same, the henchmen craned his neck upward from his awkward position on the pavement.
Red Robin’s hand dropped. The Red Hood didn’t move.
“You related to everybody in the mob?” Jason replied snidely.
The guy shrugged. “Hey, I’s just curious. You called the Bat your old man, right? Well I got fifty bucks says you’re all one big, fucked up family.” He jerked his chin. “Tony over there thinks you’re clones or some shit.”
Tim stiffened. He tried to step back, but Jason’s hand didn’t allow it. Instead, he grinned suggestively and put his other hand on his brother’s hip, sliding it down toward his ass. The younger man jerked.
“Oh, man,” Jason leered. “You’ve got no idea. My little brother’s one sweet piece of ass.”
The mobster’s face twisted. “You’re a sick mofo.”
“Well, you’re going to jail,” Tim countered. He looked down haughtily, attempting to appear both superior and dignified in spite of his contrary position.
Jason shook his head. “’You’re going to jail’? That’s the best you can do? What kind of Robin were you, Princess?”
Tim’s eyes narrowed . “The kind that puts his mouth to better use elsewhere, big brother.”
Ignoring their audience, Jason pulled him closer by the waist.
“We could throw the archer out on his ass. I’m sure he’d understand.”
“Or want to join us,” Tim retorted. He put a hand on Jason’s chest, keeping him at a marginal distance. “And no. I’m not interested, before you even suggest it. I don’t know where he’s been or if his shots are up to date.”
His brother’s mouth snapped shut, curving upward in a smile.
“There’s always the car.”
Tim shook his head abruptly. “I’m not ready to have a religious epiphany by experiencing the wrath of god.”
Jason’s brow furrowed in thought. “The Tower?”
The teenager’s laugh was disbelieving. “You want to fly all the way to San Francisco to—” his eyes shot to their observer and he blushed. His voice lowered. “Do that?”
The other man shrugged. “Hey, I did it once just to fuck with your head.”
Tim took a deep breath. The inner struggle was easy to see. “Well…if we’re going to hijack the jet, we might as well just use it.”
“Oh, no,” the Red Hood said. “I know the whole damn thing’s bugged. That kind of entertainment don’t come free, Princess.”
“But you were willing to use the car?”
“Well, yeah, because I know how to turn that off.”
“Hey, why don’t you incestuous sissies just get an apartment already,” the guy on the ground interjected. Both Red Robin and the Red Hood reached down simultaneously, hauling him to his feet by the collar of his shirt. He swayed unsteadily and tried to look indignant; it lasted about half a second before the combined weight of their unimpressed stares made him reconsider his position.
“We can string him up old school style,” Jason suggested.
“I think he has a point,” Tim said.
“You know the way we—what?” Jason turned; his arm dropped in his surprise and the man cursed as he swiveled awkwardly, still held firm in Red Robin’s fist.
Tim met his flabbergasted look with an ambivalent jerk of his shoulder.
“I think he has a point. We should move in together.”
“And you should let me go for giving you such an awardin’ idea,” the henchman chimed in.
“Shut up,” they snapped.
“Are you on something?” Jason asked. His gesture jerked the guy again, sending him hopping backward. “The archer slip you some magic dust when I wasn’t looking?”
Tim glared. “So sleeping with you is ok, but wanting to move in with you is preposterous?”
Jason nodded. “Well, yeah. Pretty much, Princess.” He indicated the rest of Gotham with a wave of his his free hand. “Next thing you know, we’ll be picking out curtains together and finding orphans on the street. Nuh-uh. No way.”
“And the wife says I got commitment issues,” the criminal muttered.
“No,” Tim replied authoritatively. “Obviously you’re committed to a life of crime.”
Jason grinned. “Nice one.”
Tim smiled. “Thanks.” He sobered, taking a deep breath. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Cowboy. I’m saying I want a place where you can fuck me that’s not in danger of being walked in on, video taped, or otherwise interrupted by people I consider family.”
Jason blinked. Shifted his stance. Seemed to consider it.
“But you’d be ok if we were surrounded by people who weren’t family?”
“Wow,” the mobster said. “He’s a dense sonuvabitch, Princess. Must be a great lay if you’re keeping him around.”
Tim sighed. “You have no—hey.”
“Don’t call him Princess,” Jason growled, punching the guy in the nose. The man went limp in their hands. Of one mind, they dropped him.
“Alright, fine,” the Red Hood acquiesced, clapping invisible grit off his gloves. “We can do curtains.”
Tim began to smile.
“But I draw the line at orphans.”