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So I’ve read a bunch of Batfamily fanfiction lately, because I like it so much better that any of the canon stuff I’ve ever seen. One of the tropes that is often well over exaggerated is Tim’s dependency on caffeine. I wondered if he was actually that bad, what else might he get up to… and this scene just exploded in my brain and would not leave me alone.
Now it can go and bother someone else.
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Jason Todd knew he wasn’t exactly mentally stable any more. Between the Joker killing him and the League of Assassins doing their level best to turn him into a monster they could aim, he had seen a lot of depraved things. Even done quite a few himself.
Nevertheless, he stared from his shadowed hiding spot in mute horror at the most atrocious thing he had seen in his entire life.
Timothy Drake, disheveled and obviously less than half awake, had just poured an energy drink into a cup of instant noodles and put them in the microwave, slumping against the counter while the radiation cooked his monstrosity and illuminated his eyebags.
Jason tried several times to reboot his brain. He was pissed at Bruce, he had come to Titans Tower to beat up the replacement… nope. Error. Blue screen. Replacement was still making nightmare noodles. He was obviously not a replacement after all, but some sort of desperate stop-gap measure. Maybe the only kid Bruce could find on short notice? Clearly Bruce didn’t care about his wellbeing at all.
Where was Bruce? Heck, where was Dickhead? Obviously Alfred had no idea this was happening.
Why was this disaster allowed out on its own?!
Two minutes later there was a sad and tinny ‘ding!’ from the microwave and replacement- no, the disaster child took out his cup of abomination and turned to the counter.
Just as he leaned to one side to fetch some cutlery from one of the drawers, Jason’s brain finally worked past his horrified paralysis. Without even planning the move Red Hood shot the sacrilegious pasta off the bench, splattering the back corner of the kitchen in a gruesome orange-red with ramen fragments.
Drake jumped in surprise at the noise, holding his fork in front of him in both hands, eyes wide with shock and betrayal.
“You shot my noodles.”
Jason tilted the helmet slightly, looming threateningly.
“You SHOT my noodles?” Drake stared in disbelief at the carnage, fork still clutched in awkward defense.
“They ain’t noodles kid.”
“Why did you shoot my noodles?!”
“You ruined them first.” Growled Jason. “What the hell was that kid?!”
“My noodles.” Drake slumped slightly.
“When did you sleep last?”
“What?” the kid blinked at him stupidly.
Jason’s revenge plot had been rerouting itself in his head and he suddenly had a much better idea how to make Bruce’s life terrible. Three swift steps and a careful tap had the kid knocked out and Jason slung the skinny disaster over his shoulder. A little more evidence and he wouldn’t need to be anywhere near Bruce to make his life hell…
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The next morning after he was sure Bruce had left for the office Jason marched up to the manor with a nice neat evidence packet and a hogtied kid.
He powered through the lump in his throat when Alfred opened the door and turned white.
“Hiya Alfie. Has Grumpy Bat introduced this disaster to you yet? I didn’t think so when I saw his living conditions…”