Funny, You Don’t *Look* Like a Vigilante
Funny, You Don’t *Look* Like a Vigilante
by Mara
Summary: “You’re such a nice boy,” Bubbe Rose said.
CATEGORY: Crack. Pure and unadulterated by anything approaching a plot.
CONTINUITY: AU. Oh-so-very-AU.
NOTES: I…there’s really no excuse for this, but I’m going to blame it on
Chevauchee anyway, for putting this idea in my head. And Missy for pointing me
to the site that started the whole thing.
* * * * *
“You’re such a nice boy,” Bubbe Rose said, patting Tim’s cheek.
He grinned, leaning back in the overstuffed chair. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”
“But you never call, you never write.” Tim’s grandmother pushed the plate of
Entenmann’s chocolate chip cookies closer to him. “And you’re still dating that
shiksa.”
“Bubbe…”
“Stephanie, she seems very *nice* for a shiksa, mind you. But what about Melba
Goldberg’s granddaughter?”
Tim shuddered. “She has the brains of a flea.”
“Hmm, you’re right.” Frowning, Bubbe sipped her tea. “Then I’ll look for someone
else.”
“No!” When she raised her eyebrows at him, he took a deep breath and moderated
his tone. “Please don’t. I know you mean well, but even if you found the perfect
girl, I don’t have a lot of time for a girlfriend. Steph and I barely see each
other these days.”
“Ah!” She put up a wrinkled finger. “That reminds me: When are you going to stop
running around Gotham in that silly costume?”
Tim spit tea all over himself. “Wha–?”
As she patted him with a towel, Bubbe shook her head. “You think I didn’t figure
out immediately that you’re Robin? With your mother, olav ha’shalom, gone, it’s
my responsibility to keep an eye on you. It’s not my fault she married that
idiot Jack Drake, who was such a bad influence on her.”
Tim dabbed at his pants, sensibly ignoring the last statement. “I…Bubbe, I
can’t stop. What I do is too important. Please, don’t tell my dad.”
Smiling gently, Bubbe patted his cheek. “Of course I won’t tell him. It’s just
that I worry about you.”
“I know.” Tim took another deep breath. “But how did you know?”
Bubbe sniffed as she picked up a cookie. “Where do you think you got your brains
from anyway, bubelah? From your father’s side of the family? Feh.”
–end–
Final author’s note: I really wanted to end this story with Bubbe expressing
concern that people were going to call Tim “Faygele” but I realized that 1 in a
100 of my readers would get the double language pun.
::coughs nervously:: “Faygele” is Yiddish slang for homosexual. Literally it,
uh, it means “little bird.”
Oh god, I’m so ashamed.