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Poison Oak	By : Owlgirl Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2889 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Batman and all related characters are copyright DC Comics. I make no money off these stories.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
“Who’s the kid,” Steph asks around the lip of her disposable coffee cup, sipping at the hot liquid as she watches Jason escort the kid (the unusually *green* kid) dressed in only the man’s leather jacket into his office. She raises a tweezed brow behind the mask and elbows Tommy gently in the side with the arm attached to her half-eaten midnight snack: a hot-pocket, still fresh from the microwave, oozing with cheese.

The doctor looks back at her with narrowed blue eyes and shrugs, crinkling the jacket of his Armani suit. “A stray.”

“Ha*ha*. No, seriously, doc…where’d Jay find him?” The blonde takes a sip of her steaming coffee before biting into her snack, making a pleased sound at the taste.

Tommy looks at her in confusion…or condemnation, eyes flicking from head to toe, sure to hit the hot-pocket, then the Starbuck’s coffee cup in her other hand before finally making it to her masked face. “…Is that a--”

“Mocha-frappo-whatever? Yeah.”

“No….the *other* thing.”

“A hot-pocket. Three cheese, the best. Want a bite?”

“I don’t eat things that have been frozen…nor been gnawed on my a teenager…” The redhead rolls his eyes and leans against the wall, more than aware of Steph mockingly mimicking him behind his back. He doesn’t pay attention, just stares at the double doors of Jason’s office as if he could bore holes through it by just looking at it long enough. It doesn’t get him anything.

Tommy sighs after a quiet moment and turns back to the masked blonde who’s finishing the rest of her coffee. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and leads her downstairs to the club, now empty and closed from the public. “I’ll make you a drink, Stephanie. Give Jason some time with his new friend.”

She’s making a happy sound beside him, probably at the thought of the doctor mixing her a martini of her choice, while she throws an arm around the man’s waist. “I’d really like that, doc.”

~&~

The boy looks around the office, taking in everything: the almost risqué paintings on the vintage 40s wallpaper, the dark mahogany furniture, the various cabinets and bookshelves filled with volumes upon volumes of text. Tim grabs at the hems of the jacket sleeves and turns back to Jason, noticing something peculiar about the space, something that he is not quite fond of. “Where are the plants?”

Jason tries not to drop his jaw, though it doesn’t work. “Uh well…I don’t *live* here. I work at night so the place is often closed off during the daytime. Couldn’t let the plants die.” It seems to be a good enough answer when Tim nods once and trots across the room to the crime lord’s desk. The teen picks up various objects, studying them as if this was his first time seeing anything like them.

Tim has…memory problems. Jason knows the kid has no reclamation of Bruce or Dick or even being Robin, probably doesn’t even know how to fight anymore…not that it matters with his meta abilities. The man is quite aware that whatever changed Tim, practically made his mind a blank slate…he thinks. He needs to ask more questions, preferably when the teen is running around in more than the man’s jacket, oversized on him (though deep inside, Jason finds it rather…cute). He coughs and the green boy perks up, setting down the silver pen he had been playing with.

“Sorry…”

“Nah, it’s okay, kid. I don’t mind. Just wondering how you’re holding up.” Jason walks around Tim to the other side of the desk and pulls back the large leather chair, seating himself and motioning for the teen to do the same. He smiles as Tim does, very nervously, fidgeting a bit in the leather motorcycle jacket.

“I…miss my friends.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’ll make the call and your new place will be set up before tomorrow night. Dirt, grass, exotic flowers…anything you want.”

“Everything.”

“…Right well…I’ll tell my boys to take everything they can find, fill the room up. Is that what you want?” He throws his booted feet up onto the surface of the desk as Tim nods a bit, already looking happier…more comfortable. *Good*. Jason needs the kid to trust him and depend on him and if it all works out, plant boy will be one of the Red Hood’s closest allies in the Underground and that certainly comes with enough benefits. “Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to either sleep here tonight…or over at my place.”

“Do you have plants there?”

~&~

There’s not a lot of things in the world that are more comforting than diving off a skyscraper and swinging in the chilly Gotham air, putting your life on the line and getting the adrenaline pumping. The grapnel gun seems to become a part of you, an extension of your arms, connecting you to the city.

There’s nothing else that can take Dick’s mind off of things quite like *this*.

His boots scuff against the surface of the roof as he lands, hearing the sharp sound of his line being reeled back in before he puts the launcher away. Nightwing steps slowly to the edge of the building, looking out over the city he’s learned to love and hate. “Take the good with the bad” is what he’s always heard, and with Gotham, you really have to or you’ll be chewed up and spit out.

He takes the moment to breath deep and the only thing he can hear is the quick beating of his heart keeping pace with the sounds of the streets and the lives of unaware citizens. He can feel trouble, starting at the tips of his fingers and working all the way up in his body till he’s biting his cheek and running a hand through his shaggy black hair, not cut since Tim’s been gone.

He can’t let this eat him, if he does, he’s no good to Gotham…or Bruce. He’s no good to *anyone*. “Don’t think about it, Grayson,” he says to himself, diving off the building and letting his body fall a few feet before he shoots his grapnel and lets the de-cel line pull taut as he swings into a high arc.

Nightwing heads into downtown, which is alive straight through the night, any day of week. Alive with innocents dancing to the thumping music at the clubs, getting wasted with watered down alcohol, waiting in line to get past the bouncers, ready to look for prey and one-night-stands. Dick used to be like that…he still *could* be, but going out clubbing won’t alleviate this tension, he just needs some sorry thugs to take down.

~&~

He can hear Alfred’s calm voice in the back of his head, see that chastising look and the wave of his finger up and down as he says “you should be talking to Master Dick, not avoiding him”, which is the truth, but then again, Bruce has never really been apt at knowing what’s good for himself. He can fight for hours on end, build advanced vehicles, program computers, and forge custom weapons…but he can’t let Dick in on what’s happening in his head.

Dick has his own issues, and though they do center around Tim too, Bruce isn’t willing to take his first partner down with him.

So he’s been in Crime Alley for the evening, taking on group after group of rapists, burglars and drug dealers. It hasn’t gotten him much, but when he’s in a fight he can’t focus on Dick or Tim…or even Jay who’s probably still downtown at that club of his, thinking that he’s running a dignified business.

Batman grunts and blocks a knife that suddenly comes flying at his face. Disarm quickly and take the man out with one solid punch before his friends come to the rescue. The gun is the first thing Batman sees, and it’s also the first thing to go with a throw of a batarang that makes the man who was holding it gasp in surprise…until he can’t because he’s being kicked in the stomach, all the air forced out of him as he falls to the dirty alley floor. One man left and he runs…or tries to until he’s suddenly hit in the back of the head with a ‘rang and knocked unconscious with a grunt.

Quick work.

He zipstrips the thugs and calls the police to come and pick them up before he's heading to the rooftop for fresher air and a chance to think where he won't get interrupted by crime. Batman stands at the edge of the building and watches Gotham move and work and...*live* and he feels good in that moment, even with his worry for Tim built up to the limit.

Bruce can't tell himself that he won't find the teen because he *knows* Tim is out there somewhere, probably in the wrong hands or confused and afraid...searching for them. At least he would like to hope, but for now he just breathes and lets the city take him where it needs him.

~&~

It’s kind of weird for Jason to bring someone to his apartment…and not end up banging them in the few minutes after they’re through the door, but Tim is a mystery. Tim is talking with the plants on the living room windowsill. Tim is bending over. Tim is showing his extremely well-toned ass under the large leather jacket and Jason…Jason is going to try his hardest not to get aroused by *that* display.

The man sighs and heads into the kitchen, taking a turn towards the fridge, thinking about something that isn’t alcohol…or Tim’s ass. He grabs the carton of orange juice and takes a long chug, closing his eyes and listening to the teen humming across the room. Inviting Batman’s deranged sidekick (ex-sidekick?) to his apartment isn’t exactly the smartest thing Jay’s ever done…not that it’s the dumbest either. Tim might not have his memories at the current moment, but who’s to say that he won’t wake up with them in the morning, then proceed to start a huge fight and ruin Jason’s pad?

Not really something the man wants to think about, so he continues to drink the orange juice until he can suddenly sense the kid standing right beside him. Jay swallows and quickly puts the carton back in the fridge while looking at the green skinned boy who’s smiling back at him.

“Could I stay out here for the night?”

Where the plants are. Riiiight.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just bring you a couple of pillows and a blanket.” Jay wipes his lips with the back of his hand, then smirks at Tim and winks. The teen seems to light up a little and look even more like something godly…and amazingly stunning.

He needs to stop thinking about the kid.

The man averts Tim’s gaze and heads towards the hall closet where all the linens, blankets and pillows are stored away. Grabbing up a set for the teen to use for the night, his blue eyes dart over to the secret panel in the wall where a few guns and knives are hidden just in case anything gets out of hand. He pads open the compartment quickly and checks the ammo and the makes sure the safeties are off on the guns with a deep breath. Killing Tim would be a hell of a loss, but Jason wouldn’t hesitate if he had no choice.

Without another thought, he closes the panel and the closet door and heads out to the living room where Tim has now shed the jacket and taken to sitting in one of the large, modern recliners. His knees are pressed into his chest, his ankles crossed to hide any peek at his genitals…but he looks relaxed, leaning back against the leather, half asleep and…docile.

Jason smirks at the scene, throwing the pillows onto the couch, against an arm rest, then sets down the blanket for Tim to use when he was ready to move and sleep in a more comfortable position. And now would be the part where Jay retires and leaves the kid to his…whatever he does at night…but instead, the man takes a seat in the chair next to Tim and listens to the sound of his steady breathing.

He looks the teen’s lean body over and takes a shuddering breath. He can’t afford to get mixed up with Tim, mixed up in the wrong way…get drawn to the boy. Jason shouldn’t even be here right now, it would be smarter to leave the teen here for the night and head over to Tommy’s or Steph’s, allow himself to be wrapped up in something that’s warm and safe…and not meta.

“Damnit…” He forces himself to stand and walk back to his bedroom, unaware of Tim’s eyes opening slowly and gazing at him. As Jason strips off his clothes in privacy, he promises himself that he won’t get involved sexually with the kid. He won’t even think of him in a perverted way. Even if he *does* walk around naked.

~&~

He’s going to lose it, he knows it. Just one more bit of bullshit and he’s going to snap and start breaking bones. Any other night of the week and Dick would welcome a bar fight at one of the seedier places in town, but tonight, it’s just an annoyance. He should be doing something *productive*, not stopping assholes from killing each other…despite what Bruce would say. This little brawl has only put him in a worse mood, and the knife that is suddenly flying towards his face his not helping.

Breaking that man’s wrist isn’t helping either.

He brings his knee up into the man’s stomach, then throws him across the room, while shifting to dodge an assailant trying to hit him with a chair. *Now* it’s a real bar fight. The hero moves and punches the next man in the face, breaking his nose as a red arrow suddenly comes flying past him to hit a thug that had drawn a gun.

Nightwing whips his head around, eyes widening behind the mask at the sight of the familiar bow-slinging redhead standing atop the bar and quickly breaking up the fight with a few well-placed arrows. When the thugs are all moaning on the floor in pain or running away as fast as they can, the man hops down and approaches the brunette. “Arsenal.”

“Hey, Wing. Looked like you could use a little help.” He smiles and runs a hand through his short hair as he takes another step forward. Roy sees Dick falter for half a second, show his weaknesses…then he’s moving again, turning away from the archer.

“What are you doing in Gotham, Arsenal?”

“Maybe I just dropped by to see how my best friend is doing since…” The man sighs, moving his hand to Dick’s shoulder and squeezing. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say and Roy is more than aware that whatever comes out of his mouth won’t bring Tim back to them from…wherever he is. Dick shrugs out from under his hand and heads towards the back alley door of the bar.

Nightwing almost tumbles out into Gotham, the sudden patter of heavy rain coming down against him and the city, drenching them. He sighs softly and pulls out his grapnel, sensing Roy at his back. The bar door closes but the sound of the brunette shooting his line towards the roof drowns out the noise.

Of course, Arsenal follows after immediately, a sigh coming from his throat as he lands against the rough concrete. He stares at Dick’s back for a long moment, the acrobat walking slowly across the rooftop, seeming to be…haunted in some sense. “Nightwing…” He runs forward and pulls on the man’s wrist, forcing him to turn around so they can see face to face.

Dick’s head dropping does not help the situation.

“Hey…you gotta stop tearing yourself up over this.” The concern is apparent in his voice…along with the worry that he couldn’t help Dick at all. If the acrobat would just *talk* instead of looking like a living-dead Nightwing then maybe they could make it somewhere. If Dick was spending every waking hour like this, then things were worst than Roy thought.

The redhead isn’t ready when Dick suddenly *hugs* him, wrapping his arms tight around Roy’s chest and burying his face against his shoulder with a loud sobbing sort of sigh. God, Dick just needed some affection, some warmth, some…understanding. He pets the brunette’s hair gently and pulls him as close as he can, reassuring him that he isn’t going to be leaving anytime soon. “Anything you need, Robbie…I’m right here.”

~&~

Once he started jerking off to thoughts of nature boy, he *knew* he was in a bad spot. The promise made to himself to not get involved, to not even *think* about how good looking the kid is lasted for--he glances at the clock--two hours.

Two hours of tossing and turning , glaring at the ceiling and then…he gave in. Couldn’t get the cotton pajama pants down around his thighs fast enough, let alone, his hand around his dick. Jason gives himself one quick, hard squeeze and tells himself to take it slow for just a moment, to breath and remember every detail of Tim that he's studied.

The lips that always sit slightly parted. The column of his neck when he turns his head. Bright blue eyes that contrast perfectly with the pale green of his skin and the pitch black of his hair. The arch of his back when he leans in and talks to the plants. But that perfectly toned ass is the most important in Jason's mind at the moment.

The man relaxes in bed, beginning to stroke himself quickly, letting his mouth hang open. His blue eyes narrow, caught staring into space as his calloused hand moves faster over his dick. He lasts shorter than usual, finishing when he thrusts his hips up hard once with an uneven breath. His hand falls away from his softening cock after a moment, the semen-slick digits sliding against the bed sheets and dirtying them. Jason catches his breath and opens his eyes wide for a fraction of a second before they fall to a more relaxed position. He looks down at his dick and then over to his hand, unable to hold in a loud sigh. "Fuck my life."
- 6
- 7
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Poison Oak