I realized there are still a lot of memories in Jason's time as Robin that I'd like to explore, mostly centered around the Bat family. Couldn't help it, I just wanted a bit more fluffy family time. Anyway, here you have it. These can go along with I'll Follow You Anywhere, but you could still read these on their own. There are some sad bits in the first chapter, mostly in Jason's treatment by his father, but it's mostly just implied. Don't read if this may upset you.

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…"

The song was low, barely above a whisper, but unmistakable as Dick passed by Jason's bedroom door. A full month after the boy came to live with them, there were still plenty of surprises in store as their foundation settled. One of them happened to be Jason's apparent appreciation for cheesy, old musical numbers.

Dick cracked open the bedroom door, expecting to find his new little brother prancing around like Julie Andrews in front of his mirror. Actually, he mostly just hoped that was the case. The blackmail would be priceless! But, as is often the case in the House of Wayne, what one hopes and what proves to be true are often two completely different animals.

Jason was curled on his bed, his knees up to his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs, staring out the window. Every now and then his voice would drop off, Dick thinking the song was over. Then, like the low hum of an old record, Jason would start up again.

"These are a few of my favorite things," he continued.

Suddenly guilty at his intrusion, Dick cleared his throat and said, "You know, if those really are your favorite things, you should probably tell Bruce. He'd try to get you rollerblades or a bike instead."

The boy had never seen so many emotions flash over someone's face so quickly. Surprise, embarrassment, sadness, and anger were the four that he caught in the mere seconds after his interruption.

"What the hell are you doing in here?! Don't you ever knock?! Get the hell out!" Jason yelled.

His cheeks erupted into a livid crimson, and the boy was off the bed and storming to the Boy Wonder faster than Catwoman would approach a diamond-encrusted bowl of milk. When he was just within arm's length, he lashed out, his fist connecting hard into Dick's cheek. Perhaps the young hero could have dodged it, but in the instant between an uninjured face and the fist connecting, he wasn't sure he really wanted to. Clearly Jason needed to hit something in that moment, so it might as well be him instead of one of the Ming Dynasty vases.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch! The eleven-year-old could pack a heck of a wallop when he really got the energy.

"Jeez!" Dick exclaimed, holding his face.

Another myriad of emotions ran over Jason's face. It was like playing an emotional Wheel of Fortune, and Dick hoped to God that it didn't end with another punch. He had enough of those on patrols and missions with the team.

"I… You deserved that!" Though Jason shouted these words, his tone was weak. Shaky. His posture sagged and shook, and Dick was sure the boy would have raced out of there entirely if he hadn't been blocking the door.

"What's wrong with you?" the older boy asked, careful of his voice.

"You should have knocked! And- and now Bruce is going to kill me. You convinced me to stay here, and now he's going to throw me out on my ass! In a body bag!"

"Whoa, dude, what?!" This kid really needed to relax! Dick's face was throbbing, but in the rush of confusion he barely had the time to feel it. "What the heck makes you think that?"

"I just decked you."

Dick shook his head. "You punched me and I'm not exactly whelmed, and if Bruce asks I'm not going to lie and say I fell down the stairs, but I'm not going to go tattle. I was the first jerk by just coming in here. Sorry, I'm still getting used to having another kid in the house. Second, why would Bruce kick you out or kill you? I'm still standing and still live here, and I've done a whole lot worse than punch someone else. In case you forget which house we're in, we do a lot of punching around here. Not at each other, really, but we'd be screwed if that's what sent us packing."

Jason relaxed a little at that, even backing up to collapse on his bed. "He's still going to be angry with me if he finds out."

"Maybe," Dick shrugged. "So? Don't make a habit of it. It's not a big deal, though."

The younger boy looked away, back out the window into the early signs of spring below. Though his face was unreadable, Dick watched as the boy pulled at the seam of his jeans and toyed with his cuticles. He didn't need M'gann's powers to feel the anxiety rippling off the boy.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Dick asked, chancing a seat next to the boy.

Jason clammed up for a few moments, but Dick just waited. He'd had longer patrols than this kid had patience, he was sure. After a few minutes, Jason took a deep breath.

"He… he doesn't get too mad, does he?"

"Who, Bruce?" Dick asked. "He's Batman. He can get pissed, but mostly at criminals. Though, you should have seen him when I broke into Cadmus with Wally and Kaldur. I thought he was going to turn into a vampire bat or something."

The joke didn't exactly have the intended effect on Jason that Dick wanted. Instead of easing his nerves, it forced Jason further back into his shell. Damn that hermit crab habit he had! The sight made Dick want to apologize as if the whole punching thing was his fault.

"Come on, it's not that big of a deal," Dick tried, gently reaching out his hand. However, Jason winced and pulled away, as if the contact burned his skin. With each passing second, he looked more twitchy and uncomfortable, like a lab mouse hunting for an exit. It wasn't until a footstep sounded down the hall, sending Jason further back into his bed, that Dick realized what was running through the boy's mind.

"Jay… Bruce isn't going to hurt you."

Jason returned Dick's gaze, a hesitant relief washing over the older boy. "You sure?"

"I'm positive. Is that what you're worried about? You punched me and you're worried he's going to punch you back or something?"

An uncomfortable shift, more cuticle abuse, and a shrug. "Not necessarily punch, but maybe. Just, you know, hurt. He's a big guy, and you can't tell me he doesn't have a temper. He's gotten mad at me before, but I was just a guest or something."

"You were always more than just some guest, but I guess I can see where you're coming from. Look, Jason, Bruce has a temper when Wayne Enterprises board members are idiots, when high society brings up the poor-little-rich-boy story again, and when the press labels him as a moronic playboy. Batman gets mad at criminals and sometimes gets irritated at Robin or the team, but you don't have a reason to be scared of either of them. I've lived here for almost five years, now. I've done some really, really dumb things. I mean, really dumb. That chandelier in the foyer? Do you know how many times I've broken it? And it's best not to ask about the amount of paintings I've ruined."

"And he's never flipped his lid?" asked Jason, his posture unraveling.

Dick smiled and shook his head. "He's flipped more lids than I can count, but nothing bad. Batman has only hit me in training or when he was mind-controlled, and both were accidental. Bruce has never hit me. I'm sure he's wanted to a few times; he practically told Alfred as much when I broke the chandelier a third time. Still, he's never hurt me, and he never would. Not on purpose. Okay?"

Jason bit his lip before nodding, glancing back out the window. "I just know, you know, sometimes parents do that."

He could sense Jason retreating again, so he moved closer, joining him in his nature watching. "Yeah, I know. When I was at the circus, I was told over and over not to mess with the animals. It wasn't my place to feed them, especially the ones we had just gotten that were still being trained. It was dangerous. Still, a tiger? A real, live tiger? You can't tell me that's not too cool for a kid to pass up the chance to see. So, I snuck out of our trailer when I knew they were giving the tigers their last meals of the night, and went to go toss a strip of meat at them when no one was looking."

"I don't know what happened," he continued, Jason turning to watch him as the story unfolded. "One minute everything was fine, and the next the tiger was lunging for me. Old Jack pulled me back in time, and my dad pulled me away from the animals as half the tamers tried to calm the tiger down. I don't think I have ever been that scared in my life. My dad said he was even more scared. He said that's why he grabbed my hand and struck it hard twice, right there in front of half the circus. He felt bad afterward and said he could only see that tiger coming after me, so he just reacted. I think it actually hurt him more than it hurt me, if you can believe it."

Jason looked down at his knees and nodded. "Yeah, my mom was like that. She never hurt me, but she was mad at me once when I didn't come home at the right time. She, uh… wasn't feeling well. She started yelling at me and said a few mean things. She told me later she didn't mean it, and I believed her. I know it happens sometimes."

Dick watched as the boy adjusted uncomfortably, staring down at his knees. He began to pick at a thread in the seam, occasionally chewing on his lip. "My father was different. He meant it. I haven't seen him in years, but I still remember the look when he would get mad. Sometimes it wasn't at anything at all. He just got mad at nothing, and we were there."

The older boy knew where this was going, but hoped he was wrong. Still, he didn't move or say at word. Something told him Jason needed to say this, to purge the poison.

"Mom, umm, usually didn't feel well, so it tended to be me against my dad. I'd say a few smart aleck things and he'd get pissed. I wanted to prove I was a bigger man than he was. Still, I felt like a baby whenever I cried after he was finished."

They sat there in silence for a while, watching as the light began to dim outside. An orange glow illuminated the room, masking some of the pink flush in Jason's cheeks. Dick almost thought it best to leave him alone in his thoughts, let him recover now that the humiliation of his family was somewhat out in the open, but Jason stopped him before he could leave.

"My mom used to sing that song whenever I was upset. Mostly when my father left and we'd just had a fight. She said her grandmother used to sing it to her, so she sang it to me. At least, she did before she got really sick, but by then my old man was long gone."

"It's a nice song," Dick said, at a bit of a loss.

"Yeah… I mean, it's stupid and cheesy, but it's still kind of nice. Talking about the good things you like instead of thinking about the bad, you know?"

Dick nodded, and together they sat in silence until Alfred called them down to dinner. Jason descended the stairs slowly, taking a distant second behind his older foster brother to the dining room. Regardless of what Dick said about Bruce, he was still nervous about the man's temper.

"Take a seat and— Good heavens! Master Richard, what on earth happened to your cheek?" Alfred asked, immediately moving to the boy to inspect his face.

The boy just shrugged. "I was being stupid. Not a big deal. I'll be more careful next time."

Though Bruce and Alfred exchanged a suspicious glance, Jason couldn't help the smile rising on his face. True to his word, Dick hadn't lied. He'd have to remember those vague answers in the future whenever he got into trouble, though something told him Bruce was allowing the subject to slide more than he usually would.

That evening, the dinner conversation revolved around a new Wayne Tech prototype, school subjects, and new maneuvers. No one mentioned the rising bruise on Dick's face or how polite Jason managed to be, particularly to Dick. They kept everything light. Simple.

It was exactly that reason that had Jason believe the subject had been dropped entirely. However, a few days later he entered his bedroom to find a CD laying on his bed. There was no bow or fanfare of any kind, just a CD with a small post-it stuck on top.

Figured you could use a few more of your favorite things. - Dick

It couldn't be helped! Okay, maybe it could have, but I didn't really care to help it. I hope you liked reading it.

-Defective