Reverse BatFam Trash

Please Stop Playing With Knives

-I wrote about knives :)-

Ages

Tim - 14

Jason - 11

Dick - 8

"Don't- hold knives like that."

"Why?"

"Okay, let's not do that..." Jason reached out and gingerly took the knife from his brother, setting it on the counter. "Lets try again, how do we hold knives if we don't want to stab anyone?"

Dick picked up the knife again. Jason reached out again and fixed his grip until it looked professional.

"There we go. That's how we hold it if we're cutting. Now hold it like you're gonna stab someone, just a basic jab."

Dick used his other hand to alter his grip. "Like this?"

"Yup, just make sure your thumb out of the way. Now, show me how you would hold it if you're gonna hold it against someone's throat."

Dick adjusted it.

"Close, but are you trying to hold it to an opponent opposite to you or are you holding your opponent against you?"

"Against me."

"Okay, make sure the blade is facing towards you, like this."

Tim strolled downstairs, carrying the box of pop tarts he'd bought from the grocery store earlier. He was about to crack open pop tarts and Pepsi and barricade himself in his room. 

Tim swayed into the kitchen and nearly had a fucking aneurysm. Jason was standing there, a knife almost pressed against his brother's throat. Tim's knees practically gave out under him. He dropped he box and clutched the door frame to steady himself.

"Oh, hey Tim!" Dick cheered. 

Jason began breathing  heavily. His brother's entrance had caused his hand to jerk, almost plunging the blade into his brother. He tried to stay calm so as not to make Dick aware that he had almost died.

"Jason, what the every loving fuck-" He mouthed the word around his brothers. "are you doing?"

Jason carefully lowered the knife. To Tim's relief it was only a butter knife.

"Dick." He tried to keep his head level.  "Go upstairs-"

"Why?"

"Go."

He did. 

"Jason,  what the FUCK?"

"I walked in and he was using a saturated-edge knife to cut butter. I'm teaching him to use different kinds of knife correctly."

"CORRECTLY?"

"Yeah, I was-"

"CORRECTLY? JASON YOU HAD A KNIFE TO HIS-"

Jason shushed him. 

"DON'T YOU FUCKING SHUSH ME, YOU'RE AN INFANT! You could have killed him!"

"It's a butter knife."

"YOU HAD IT TO HIS NECK." Tim had *almost* forgotten his pop tarts and was still on the verge of a heart attack. He didn't know if he should laugh, or cry, or call Bruce; probably all three. 

Jason began busying himself by putting everything back on the knife block. "It was a butter knife, I wouldn't have done it with, like, a butcher's knife."

"Oh well thank god then." Tim was trying real hard not to hit his kid brother. "I have to call Bruce."

"NO!" Jason begged. "You can't! Please Tim!"

"No! You can't teach an eight-year-old how to use knives."

"Who taught you to use knives?"

"Damian, but-"

"and how old were you?"

"I was ten, but Dick is eight, his practically a "

"Teaching him how to use knives is a big-brother responsibility. 

"But we shouldn't be recreating Damian's behavior! I didn't teach you to use knives."

"EXACTLY. Damian taught me to use knives since you didn't do it. I don't want Damian to teach Dick."

Tim thought about it, grimacing. The idea of Damian showing Dick how to shank someone was a much worse thought. "I'm still calling Bruce."

"Fine." Jason stormed out, freaking terrified, already coming to terms with his mortality."

Dick was sitting at the top of the stairs. He stood and waved when he saw his brother. "Hey, Jay! what happened?"

"I'm *apparently*  In trouble."

"Oh."

"Do you remember how to stab?"

"yeah!"

 Jason gestured his brother upstairs. "Show me."