He didn't not know about Tim's need to shower after patrol. He had spent many a month stalking him back in time before his ill-fated attempt at a homecoming. He didn't know the exact source or even the extent of it, but he understood the need to have a ritual to separate the vigilante from the person.
He had his own, after all. Tim didn't take long in the shower, but in that short amount of time Jason had been busy with his own. He'd gone through his weapons, checking them over, cleaning any that he'd fired. He'd reloaded his clips and made sure that his load outs were in easy grabbing distance. His blades had an oiled cloth ran over them before he'd hung them back on the peg board. His helmet and armor were set up on their own stand, along with his holsters, gloves, and boots.
By the time that Tim came out of the bathroom, he'd stripped off his under layer and was in the process of stapling a small knife slash on his side shut. He preferred stitches but the angle made sewing himself up almost impossible, so three neat staples would have to do. It would scar more, but what was one more? His torso was already a collage of pain and injury, between the flash burns that dripped along his back to the thick Y-shaped incision that bisected his chest and stomach. Blades, gunshots, blunt force ripping- all of them had a place on his skin. One more knife wound would just fade into the narrative.
He caught sight of Tim as he was twisting to align a tegaderm dressing over the small wound and he sucked in a small breath. Tim was wearing his clothes. He'd known that, of course. He'd offered them. He'd fully been preparing himself to see the lithe man come out of the bathroom in them.
He hadn't prepared nearly enough.
"I.." What was he trying to say? He'd had something, something about letting him finish putting the dressing on and then he'd take a quick shower and then they could eat, but that single word was all that came out.
Really, it shouldn't have been a surprise when the thin plastic dressing crumpled in his suddenly clumsy fingers, sticking to itself and making Jason startle out of his stare to frown at it. "Well, shit."
Never apologize for novels. XD I love them! Also, TW for injury and medical shit.
He had his own, after all. Tim didn't take long in the shower, but in that short amount of time Jason had been busy with his own. He'd gone through his weapons, checking them over, cleaning any that he'd fired. He'd reloaded his clips and made sure that his load outs were in easy grabbing distance. His blades had an oiled cloth ran over them before he'd hung them back on the peg board. His helmet and armor were set up on their own stand, along with his holsters, gloves, and boots.
By the time that Tim came out of the bathroom, he'd stripped off his under layer and was in the process of stapling a small knife slash on his side shut. He preferred stitches but the angle made sewing himself up almost impossible, so three neat staples would have to do. It would scar more, but what was one more? His torso was already a collage of pain and injury, between the flash burns that dripped along his back to the thick Y-shaped incision that bisected his chest and stomach. Blades, gunshots, blunt force ripping- all of them had a place on his skin. One more knife wound would just fade into the narrative.
He caught sight of Tim as he was twisting to align a tegaderm dressing over the small wound and he sucked in a small breath. Tim was wearing his clothes. He'd known that, of course. He'd offered them. He'd fully been preparing himself to see the lithe man come out of the bathroom in them.
He hadn't prepared nearly enough.
"I.." What was he trying to say? He'd had something, something about letting him finish putting the dressing on and then he'd take a quick shower and then they could eat, but that single word was all that came out.
Really, it shouldn't have been a surprise when the thin plastic dressing crumpled in his suddenly clumsy fingers, sticking to itself and making Jason startle out of his stare to frown at it. "Well, shit."