Jason's laughter followed them through the city as the older man lead the way over rooftops. It wasn't a sound that many people had heard in recent years, and Tim had managed to coax it out of him twice in one night. Dick would be jealous, Bruce would be suspicious, but Jason was just enjoying the rare bit of levity.
Eventually, the run ended on a fire escape, the metal oddly stable considering how hard Jason's bulk hit it. Any other fire escape in his part of the city would have shuddered and creaked, rust flaking off weathered bolts, but this one barely twitched. The window was armed and a fake brick shifted away under Jason's touch so he could key in a code. There was a chirp and Jason slid the brick back into place before sliding the window open on well oiled tracks.
Inside was dark, but they were both well used to the dark. Tim ended up climbing into a living room, not barren and barely furnished like most of Jason's safehouses, but comfortable looking and decorated. Bookshelves lined most of the wall space, an overstuffed couch in the center of the space. Where most people would put a TV he had a desk with a computer set up, though the screen was large enough and the space small enough that he could probably scroll through Netflix with a wireless mouse. Art dotted what wall space wasn't claimed by books and Tim might recognize a couple as Damian's.
This wasn't a safehouse. This was his apartment. His home. The place no other Bat even knew existed, let alone had ever been inside.
Jason himself had crossed the space and rounded the bar into his kitchen, setting the bag of food on the counter before he reached up to thumb the hidden latch that let his helmet pop open enough to slide off his head. His hair was mussed but he was grinning as he set the helmet aside and shrugged out of his jacket.
"Thanks. I've been working on it for a while. Slow going between the shelters, clinics, and the night job. Take off your cape, stay awhile."
The place really did suit Jason, once Tim paused to look around. Especially the books, there were so many titles that he'd have guessed the older vigilante was into, and maybe a couple that Tim might tease him about later. Damian's art softened his smile, pleased that the two of them had enough of a bond that Jason would display it. The tiniest little hint of jealousy sparked in his chest that nothing in the room had anything to do with him, but what would Jason even have done? Displayed mathematical equations? He just--he didn't want to be on the same level as Dick and Bruce.
As he took on the space, though, it slowly dawned on him that he hadn't been taken to some safehouse that would end up ditched in a few months. Jason trusted Tim enough to take him to his actual home. His heart stuttered almost painfully in his chest as he forced himself to suck in a breath. It nearly overwhelmed him for a second, being given such an important gift. Was it even done consciously, or had Jason come to trust him so much he didn't second guess the idea?
Okay, so he was definitely wrong about being on the same level as Dick and Bruce. There was no way those two knew about Jason's apartment, and Tim immediately told himself he'd die before he ever told them about its location. This was special. He was going to hold onto it like the rarest gem.
As his gaze finally turned back to the older man, Tim saw him standing there relaxed and smiling, sans jacket and helmet. The faintest of flushes bloomed onto his cheeks, but he didn't let the sight distract him for long. Instead, his own hands moved to work on stripping as much of his suit off as he could. Practiced, skilled fingers disabled traps and unhooked latches. His cape, the gloves, the belt, his staff, anything other than the skin tight kevlar was peeled off and politely set aside on a chair. There was a moment when he debated taking his top off as well, but it felt out of line to even ask if he could just hang around shirtless while visiting someone's apartment for the first time. Pity he didn't have any civvies.
"I can pour some drinks if you show me where the stuff is?" The younger of the two offered, stepping away from where he'd left most of his gear behind.
While Tim was peeling himself out of Red Robin, Jason was continuing to do the same. His heavy utility belt was connected to his holsters, so the the who bundle of tactical weave was slipped off his thighs and set aside with his helmets. Surely the kitchen counter wasn't where all this stuff was supposed to go, but there didn't seem to be a specific space set aside for it. At least, not where Tim could easily see.
"That is a great idea, but first let's shove this shit somewhere we don't have to look at it for the rest of the night. Come on, it's just upstairs." The secret wasn't going to remain secret for long, it would seem. And, apparently, Tim was welcome to stay long enough to make hanging his gear a viable option. Gathering up the discarded pieces of his kit, not bothering to take off the thick armor that protected his torso. It would be easier to transport it on him.
Leading the way down the short hall, he ignored the two open doors. The one to the right was a bathroom, while the corner of an unmade bed could be spotted through the door that was at the end of the hall. To the left, however, was a small set of stairs leading up and it was those stairs that Jason took.
Bruce had his Cave. Tim had his Nest. Jason, it seemed, had the upstairs apartment. It wasn't fancy or high tech, but it had room to do his weapon and armor maintenance. It also looked like it had roof access, which meant that Jason could have just brought Tim in this way instead of down into his main apartment.
Heading over to the table, he set down the gear in his arms before gesturing over at a couple of armor stands. "Feel free to hang him up to air out. As long as you don't mind stuff that is going to be way too big, there are civvies in the drawers. Bathroom is in that back corner if you want to shower. Don't take too long, if we let the garlic knots cool down, Nan will kick my ass later."
sorry it's so long, but, yk, ~~feelings~~ please don't feel like you gotta match!
The rest of the night? Tim paused, blinking stupidly for a moment. Apparently this would not be a quick dinner and a drink. Jason must have wanted to spend some time with him, to offer to let him hang his gear. A little thrill went straight to his belly, and he quickly gathered his things so he could follow along behind the older man obediently.
As they entered the top floor he took a moment to appreciate the base that had been set up there. Tim was all about tech, hadn't wanted to lose his access to a super computer and crime lab when he moved out of the manor. Also, he was a giant nerd that lived for that sort of thing. There was a simplicity, though, in not having to worry about all of that. He allowed himself to take a good look around as he moved over to a stand and hung up the pieces that he stripped off. His boots were set next to it and his gaze turned to the shower. Whether or not Jason was aware of his little idiosyncrasies, he was thrilled at having them respected.
"I'll be quick." Tim promised, grabbing for some clothes from the drawer and making a bee-line for the bathroom that was tucked away. The kevlar was stripped off and set on a counter out of the way. As soon as the water was warm he ducked under it, quickly scrubbing away the sweat and grime that came with the job. He'd never been the type to luxuriate in long showers. They were a means to an end that got him clean.
The civvies were too big on him. He tied the pajama pants around his waist so they wouldn't slide off, and tugged on a t-shirt that seemed to dwarf him. As he toweled his dark hair dry, Tim caught a look at himself in the mirror. Immediately his cheeks flushed and there were tingles everywhere that cloth touched his skin. Jason's clothes. It wasn't at all an intimate thing to let a fellow vigilante borrow some civvies so they didn't sit around in their sweaty gear, yet the sight managed to strike Tim deep in his core, right in the spot that had always been desperate to belong to someone.
Fuck. Fuck.
It hadn't mattered how much he told himself not to do this, not to feel this way, he... he had never gotten over his thing for Jason, had he? Everything had started as a dumb elementary school crush, developed over nights of sneaking out to get pictures of Robin. The most amazing side-kick that had ever existed, the one who did a goofy little wave when he saw Tim and his dumb camera. Even when the guy had tried to kill him (more than once), it had never been quite enough to fully silence the stupid flutter in his chest. And as he got to know this Jason, the adult he'd grown into, it reignited those feelings into an inferno.
So, he was fucked.
Tim carefully hung the towel back on the rack and stepped back out of the bathroom, bare feet padding gently on the floor as he made his way to hang up the rest of his suit. Then he headed for wherever it was that Jason was waiting for him, looking a little more vulnerable than when he left.
Never apologize for novels. XD I love them! Also, TW for injury and medical shit.
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."
If Jason was looking at Tim any differently, it wasn't immediately picked up on. No, his eyes were drawn to the wound he hadn't even been aware of. It wasn't in his nature to fuss too much over a small wound, they got them all of the time in their line of work, but a little frown twitched onto his features before he could stop it. "If you had said something I would have stitched you up." The younger of the two told him as he stepped closer, helping himself to Jason's medical kit without waiting for any sort of permission. Clearly he just wasn't used to having someone around that could help. "Here, let me put the bandage on."
As he grabbed for a disinfecting wipe, it occurred to him that perhaps Jason hadn't said anything because he didn't want any help. But, well, too bad. Tim could be just as stubborn as the rest of the Bats, if not worse. Still, he did his best to be gentle as he wiped down the wound. Jason might have already taken care of it, but it didn't hurt to have it cleaned up a second time before it was bandaged. Staph infections were the reason behind his insistence on showering off right after patrol; he wasn't going to lose Jason to one. Even if it got him bitched at.
The scars weren't terribly shocking to him. Not even the autopsy scar, as much as it different from anything on his own body. That made sense. Jason had died, of course they would perform an autopsy, but he wouldn't have felt it. Others must have been the result so much misfortune and pain. Tim felt empathy, sure, but more than that, they made him admire Jason all the more. The scars were a roadmap to the suffering he had endured in order to do what he felt was right. They didn't always agree on what that meant or the methods used to get there, but he never doubted the man's passion. It wasn't Tim's place to trace those scars with his fingertips, but he gazed at them with an open curiosity as he carefully smoothed the tegaderm over the stapled wound.
"There." Time seemed to slow down around him when he lifted his eyes to peer up at Jason again. There was something different about the way the other man was looking back at him. Tim wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he knew what his foolish heart was hoping for. God, it was so much easier to have feelings from someone from afar. When everything was so out of reach it wasn't worth dwelling on. Were they actually any closer now, though? Did Jason even like men? Even if he did, would he want Tim, of all people? The guy that he'd spent a not insignificant amount of time hating? He was just so bad at this. Didn't even know what to do with himself. "Did you get hurt anywhere else?" This time, when he spoke, his voice was softer. Like if he was too loud, he might wake and realize the whole thing had been some sort of dream.
He didn't even realize he hadn't pulled his hand away from Jason's side. Just kept looking up at him with so many different feelings swirling in his eyes like galaxies rotating through space.
The thing was, Jason had never really hated Tim. Not as a person, anyway. He'd hated the fact that Bruce had given Robin to someone else. He'd been jealous of exactly how well Tim had worked alongside the stoic man. Jealous of his brilliance and how much better he was at being Robin than Jason had ever been.
Jason had been all exuberant energy and unending drive to help people, but he'd never really been a detective. Not like Bruce or Dick and certainly not like Tim. He wasn't dumb, he knew that, but things that took Dick or Tim only seconds to connect his brain didn't see the connection for a minute. Tim had been the Robin that he could never have been, even if he hadn't died. He'd hated the idea that even if he had come home after that trip, Bruce probably still would have replaced him. He'd been a better son than partner.
At least, he'd thought. The batarang scar on his throat seemed to tell him otherwise every time he saw it in a mirror.
Tim stepped in close and helped himself to the oversized medical kit he'd spread out over the table. His stomach twisted and tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the sharp sting of antiseptic and everything to do with the fact that he could smell his own shampoo mingling with the undertones that had to be just Tim. He was still as the younger boy worked, letting himself be poked and prodded and finally bandaged...and then the distraction of his wound was gone and all that was left was the heat of Tim's hand soaking into his side. His eyes like crystalline lasers, making his very being twitch to be perceived so completely. His own cornflower blue eyes flicked down to trace full lips...and in doing so, the faint scar on Tim's neck caught his attention and doused him in ice cold reality.
He'd left that scar. He couldn't even remember exactly which time it was that he'd left it, but he knew that he had. He'd left that scar without a second thought and Pit influences be damned, he'd done it with intent. At the time, he'd been so out of his own mind with manipulated anger and absolutely no control of his own emotional regulation....but he'd still done it. The Pit had done a lot to him, but it hadn't ever forced his hand.
Pulling away, he rubbed at the back of his neck as he moved to cross the room and put space between them.
"Nah, I'm fine. Thanks, though. I'm...I'm gunna shower real quick and then we can head back downstairs. I didn't lock anything if you want to not wait for me." He grabbed clothes as he spoke, then closed the bathroom door almost before his last sentence was finished.
For a moment there, Tim had thought Jason was going to kiss him. He canted his head and leaned in just a fraction of an inch to try to encourage it. Just like that, Jason was gone. Trying to get as far away from him as possible. The cold hand of disappointment reached around his heart and squeezed painfully. It was such a small thing, not even really a full on rejection, but it still stung in a way that was beyond his understanding. Why was he so disappointed?
Some sort of response bubbled in his throat, but he didn't manage to get anything out before the door closed between them. Tim took a moment, physically shaking it off like a dog after a bath. Shut down any possible thought of just going for it as soon as Jason was close enough again. Just so he could know for sure and stop having to dwell on it in the back of his mind. Rejection would be easier than not knowing. Then he could tell the little voice in the back of his head to shut up. But this was supposed to be bonding time, and he couldn't let his feelings make him do anything that could ruin it. The wrong move could sever everything the two had worked towards to be able to get along and work together.
It was hard to trust himself to behave when every cell in his body with singing with desire for him. Tim, who always had complete control over his emotions, who never let this sort of thing get in the way--he was floundering.
He didn't go anywhere. It didn't feel right to explore Jason's place in his absence, even as nosy as he was. Besides, it would be rude to go eat without him, especially when he'd been nice enough to let Tim shower off first. One of his hands reached to rub at his arm and his toes curled awkwardly against the floor. They just needed to eat, have a drink, and everything would be okay. He was determined to make everything okay.
In the bathroom, Jason was fighting to keep himself even. He had almost kissed Tim. He'd wanted to. Had been wanting to, if he stopped to really think about it. He'd wanted to kiss those snarky, slightly chapped lips for longer than he cared to admit. And, he was pretty sure that Tim had wanted to kiss him back.
But how could he? How could anyone want to kiss someone like him? He was dead, for fuck's sake. Sure, he was better now, but it was all just borrowed time and he was under absolutely no delusions of out living the job. He was going to go down exactly like he did the first time and, more importantly, that was the death he deserved.
He was not a good person. Maybe he never had been, but he certainly wasn't now. He was trying to be better, trying to not let his anger overwhelm everything until all he knew was green...but it was hard and it was slow and he didn't deserve to kiss someone like Tim. Someone he'd hurt time and time again, not on accident but on purpose. With intent. He'd been aiming for his knife to sink into that elegant throat, why the hell did he think he had a right to caress it now instead?
Crossing over to the shower, he twisted the knob as hot as he could stand it, then twisted just a little bit more. The heat was quick to bite into his skin but he didn't let himself hiss as he stepped into the spray. He washed methodically and completely, letting the burn of the heat drive away the image of Tim looking up at him like he had been, all hopeful blue eyes and trust.
By the time the shower stopped, steam was leaking out from under the door. His skin was bright pink and a little shiny, steam coming off his red shoulders and wet hair. The towel scraped against sensitive skin, so he dried off enough to not drip before he pulled on a pair of sweats and the loose, comfortable t-shirt he'd grabbed. There was still steam in his hair when the bathroom door opened, but he was at least a little more settled in his own skin.
His smile was still haunted on his lips, however, so he kept it small so that Tim hopefully wouldn't notice.
"All clean. Ready for some food? I have some beers in the fridge, I think. Tequila, if you want it. I'm probably going to stick to Zesti, though."
Asking Tim not to notice even the smallest of changes was like asking a wolf not to hunt. His skilled eye was innate, honed by years of training under Bruce. Even if he hadn't seen that there was something off with Jason's facial expression, the sudden shift from wanting to be bought a drink to avoiding alcohol set off a red flag in Tim's brain. The pink skin and the steam from his hair hair didn't get past him, either. Pieces started to click together in his brain and the only conclusion he could arrive at was that something had gone wrong between his shower and the one Jason took. To the point that the ability for the rest of their night to be tolerable was hanging on by a thread.
His first instinct was to get the hell out of dodge. Emotions? Talking through things? Neither were Tim's strong suit. He wasn't Dick Grayson, couldn't go around hugging everyone too tight and demanding they say how they feel. Despite that, though, he didn't try to make an excuse to leave or bite his lip and following along silently. He wasn't timid or a fragile little waif unable to handle situations head on when the need called for it. A Robin who acted that way was bound to have been eaten alive.
Jason was unhappy with him. Had he realized that Tim had been close to leaning in for a kiss and felt disgusted? God, he didn't want to believe that. If the kiss thing was mostly in his head anyway, maybe Jason hadn't even realized it almost happened. It was about the bandaging, then. Tim must have misunderstood what he perceived as them having bonded and overstepped a line Jason felt was important. Fine. He could handle this. Then the rest of the night would go smoother.
The younger of the two steeled himself, took a breath and set his shoulders. "Honestly, I'd rather have a Zesti, but that's not the point." One of his hands waved as if brushing that off. Anxiety fizzled through his veins, but that was hardly a new feeling for him. He'd survive. "Jason, if you're mad about me helping bandage you, I--" A small snort, because he wasn't about to lie to try to make things easier. "I'm not going to apologize for it. I know I probably should have waited for you to say it was okay, but you needed help. If we're going to work together on things, you have to be willing to let me lend a hand. I know you don't like me much, but I want you to feel like you can trust me." At the last bit, his voice softened.
Avoidance, thy name is Bat. With the exception of one Richard Grayson, the entire clan was terrible at the whole 'emotions' thing. Bruce because he was Bruce, Tim because he'd spent his entire life with the housekeepers, and Jason because all emotions ever did was get him in trouble. His dad would beat him for them, Bruce would lecture him if he let his emotions override the 'right' thing to do. Talia wasn't much better, though she'd tried a little harder than she probably wanted to.
He watched Tim steel himself, watched those bright blue eyes harden...and he frowned. "Bandage? What are you talking about, Timbers? Why would I be mad at you for helping me with a bandage?" Confusion was thick in his voice...but then he was thinking back to how lost Tim had looked as he'd ran to hide in the bathroom and suddenly things made a little more sense.
Well, shit.
Sighing, the older man scrubbed at his pink face with his hands, coaxing just a little more sharp ache out of the heated skin before he let his arms drop.
"I'm not mad at you and I do like you, so just wipe that stupidity right out of your head. I just...I tried to kill you, Tim. A lot. Got pretty damned close to it, too. I figured you wouldn't want me that close to you without a muzzle."
An extended silence passed between the two of them when Tim came to understand what the problem actually was. Wow, had he been on completely the wrong track. Usually he wasn't that far off the mark. Just went to show how deep emotions were still quite foreign to him.
There was caution in each step he took to get closer to Jason, but now he felt like there was a point to prove. "I'm not afraid of you, Jason. I like being near you." Tim paused just in front of him, and stared up at him with those big blue eyes of his again. "I can defend myself. I'm smart enough to know who I can trust. A lot of what happened went down the way it did because you were being manipulated, or trauma and the pit made you think it was an okay way to deal with your anger."
His hand reached forward to rest against Jason's bicep, establishing physical touch between the two of them. Nothing overwhelming, but there and solid and real. "Even if none of that was true, it wouldn't even matter. Because if I tried to punch you right now, I genuinely believe you'd do your best not to fight back too hard because you don't want to hurt me anymore." He couldn't help the little smirk that reappeared on his face. "And because I think you know I could kick your ass these days."
He was tense. Tense from the moment Tim started moving closer, but even more so when Tim's hand settled on his arm. He wasn't tense because he didn't want it...he was tense because he did. Because it was all he'd ever really wanted, honestly. To be accepted as he was now instead of how he'd been as a literal child or how he'd been when he'd first gotten back to Gotham and his brain was fucked with.
And then Tim just had to go and sass and Jason's tension released with a surprised bark of laughter. It broke the heaviness in the air cleanly and completely and Jason offered a fond, lopsided smile to the younger man before he reached out to lightly knock his knuckles against Tim's bony shoulder.
"You couldn't kick my ass if I was blindfolded and handcuffed, pipsqueak. Come on, lets go shove some food in our faces and maybe pull up a movie? Gotta let those Zestis settle before you drive and all that." He was playful, but there was an undertone of gratitude under the flippant tone. He recognized better than most exactly how hard it was for any of them to really talk about things like that, so for Tim to dig down for that little speech...it had to mean something.
Something like maybe Tim really was comfortable with him. And maybe that was a bad idea, but Jason hoped that it wasn't.
"You better watch yourself, Jason Todd. Don't forget I beat Lady Shiva and KGBeast." The younger of the two huffed, responding with a playfully annoyed look. It was a relief that he had been able to express what he was thinking and still find a way to ease the tension that had formed between the two of them. More than anything, he wanted to enjoy the rest of their time together, even if things hadn't necessarily gone as he'd been hoping. It would be enough just to be around him.
So Tim was smiling as the two of them made their way back down to the kitchen, back to the calm he'd felt before his moment gazing at himself in the mirror. A hunger pang struck him as he smelled the food again. He swore if he didn't eat soon he was going to start drooling. Still, he was raised with manners and just helped grab forks and drinks so they could get settled quicker. The look in his eyes made just how starving he felt pretty obvious, he was one hundred percent zeroed in on the food.
"What sort of movie do you want to watch?" This was new territory for the two of them, having to find something they could both enjoy. Not that Tim was terribly particular about what he watched, as long as it didn't bore him to the point that sleep started calling his name. "I'm willing to let you pick, but I'm definitely going to judge you based on what you decide." If Jason was going to argue for something based on classic literature, it better have some sort of action or something. Otherwise he was going to have to pry Tim's sleeping body off of his couch and dump him into Redbird himself.
Despite how hard Tim tried to pretend that he wasn't starving, Jason wasn't deaf and he chuckled softly at the rather audible complaint that was lodged by Tim's stomach. It made sense, the boy never ate as far as Jason knew, surviving entirely on couch naps and coffee from occasionally questionable sources. It made him roll his eyes and while Tim poked around his rather well stocked and supplied kitchen for forks (in the drawer under the toaster) and drinks (the entire bottom shelf of the almost instagram organized fridge was stocked with water, Zesti, and some juice), Jason grabbed some plates from the cupboard and started piling them high with food.
There was way more in that bag then Red Hood had ordered and Jason scoffed as he held out a box of canoli. "Put these in the fridge, please? I didn't know they were in there or I would have put them in when we got here. I knew she was going to try to feed you, I didn't think she was going to send home half her damned menu."
In the end, they both had plates of carbonara and garlic knots, small bowls of salad, and there was at least an entire entry sized container that Jason hadn't opened yet. He left the plates on the bar, balancing the leftovers carefully as he headed to put them away.
"If you're going to judge me for whatever I pick, I may as well just enjoy it, right? Star Trek: Generations. A decent bounce point if you've never seen the originals and almost the best of both casts in one movie. Plus, Guinan. You can never go wrong with Guinan."
Jason had a beautiful, instagram ready fridge, and Tim made a mental note never to let him see the one in the Nest. It rarely had more than questionable leftovers, Gatorade, and some refrigerated coffee. He dutifully placed the cannoli in what he hoped was a good spot for it, then let his stomach lead him right back to where the plates were. "Is that what you two were talking about? I could tell she thought I was too skinny." The way she had jabbed at his stomach hadn't exactly left much room for interpretation. He elected not to mention the fact that Jason had gotten all flustered.
As soon as Jason picked what they were watching, Tim paused and looked a little suspicious. At first he wondered if perhaps Jason knew that Star Trek was one of his favorites and only picked it for that reason, but the moment he mentioned Guinan, Tim knew he was a real fan. "Of course I've seen the originals. The first movie wasn't great but Wrath of Khan? You should have seen how hard I cried the first time I saw Spock die." Poor baby Tim, emotionally attached to fictional characters in lieu of parents.
"I do like the Next Generation cast better though. Not sure if it was just because it was on TV a lot when I was younger or if they did a better job. Picard over Kirk all day every day. Guinan was great, but I always really liked Data, especially when you got to see him with Spot." Tim chattered along, clearly very happy to have one of his special interests catered to. He settled in and waited for Jason to have a seat so he could start eating. Just because he was well behaved enough not to actually stuff his face, didn't mean he didn't want to.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
For Prettyredbird
Jason's laughter followed them through the city as the older man lead the way over rooftops. It wasn't a sound that many people had heard in recent years, and Tim had managed to coax it out of him twice in one night. Dick would be jealous, Bruce would be suspicious, but Jason was just enjoying the rare bit of levity.
Eventually, the run ended on a fire escape, the metal oddly stable considering how hard Jason's bulk hit it. Any other fire escape in his part of the city would have shuddered and creaked, rust flaking off weathered bolts, but this one barely twitched. The window was armed and a fake brick shifted away under Jason's touch so he could key in a code. There was a chirp and Jason slid the brick back into place before sliding the window open on well oiled tracks.
Inside was dark, but they were both well used to the dark. Tim ended up climbing into a living room, not barren and barely furnished like most of Jason's safehouses, but comfortable looking and decorated. Bookshelves lined most of the wall space, an overstuffed couch in the center of the space. Where most people would put a TV he had a desk with a computer set up, though the screen was large enough and the space small enough that he could probably scroll through Netflix with a wireless mouse. Art dotted what wall space wasn't claimed by books and Tim might recognize a couple as Damian's.
This wasn't a safehouse. This was his apartment. His home. The place no other Bat even knew existed, let alone had ever been inside.
Jason himself had crossed the space and rounded the bar into his kitchen, setting the bag of food on the counter before he reached up to thumb the hidden latch that let his helmet pop open enough to slide off his head. His hair was mussed but he was grinning as he set the helmet aside and shrugged out of his jacket.
"Thanks. I've been working on it for a while. Slow going between the shelters, clinics, and the night job. Take off your cape, stay awhile."
no subject
As he took on the space, though, it slowly dawned on him that he hadn't been taken to some safehouse that would end up ditched in a few months. Jason trusted Tim enough to take him to his actual home. His heart stuttered almost painfully in his chest as he forced himself to suck in a breath. It nearly overwhelmed him for a second, being given such an important gift. Was it even done consciously, or had Jason come to trust him so much he didn't second guess the idea?
Okay, so he was definitely wrong about being on the same level as Dick and Bruce. There was no way those two knew about Jason's apartment, and Tim immediately told himself he'd die before he ever told them about its location. This was special. He was going to hold onto it like the rarest gem.
As his gaze finally turned back to the older man, Tim saw him standing there relaxed and smiling, sans jacket and helmet. The faintest of flushes bloomed onto his cheeks, but he didn't let the sight distract him for long. Instead, his own hands moved to work on stripping as much of his suit off as he could. Practiced, skilled fingers disabled traps and unhooked latches. His cape, the gloves, the belt, his staff, anything other than the skin tight kevlar was peeled off and politely set aside on a chair. There was a moment when he debated taking his top off as well, but it felt out of line to even ask if he could just hang around shirtless while visiting someone's apartment for the first time. Pity he didn't have any civvies.
"I can pour some drinks if you show me where the stuff is?" The younger of the two offered, stepping away from where he'd left most of his gear behind.
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"That is a great idea, but first let's shove this shit somewhere we don't have to look at it for the rest of the night. Come on, it's just upstairs." The secret wasn't going to remain secret for long, it would seem. And, apparently, Tim was welcome to stay long enough to make hanging his gear a viable option. Gathering up the discarded pieces of his kit, not bothering to take off the thick armor that protected his torso. It would be easier to transport it on him.
Leading the way down the short hall, he ignored the two open doors. The one to the right was a bathroom, while the corner of an unmade bed could be spotted through the door that was at the end of the hall. To the left, however, was a small set of stairs leading up and it was those stairs that Jason took.
Bruce had his Cave. Tim had his Nest. Jason, it seemed, had the upstairs apartment. It wasn't fancy or high tech, but it had room to do his weapon and armor maintenance. It also looked like it had roof access, which meant that Jason could have just brought Tim in this way instead of down into his main apartment.
Heading over to the table, he set down the gear in his arms before gesturing over at a couple of armor stands. "Feel free to hang him up to air out. As long as you don't mind stuff that is going to be way too big, there are civvies in the drawers. Bathroom is in that back corner if you want to shower. Don't take too long, if we let the garlic knots cool down, Nan will kick my ass later."
sorry it's so long, but, yk, ~~feelings~~ please don't feel like you gotta match!
As they entered the top floor he took a moment to appreciate the base that had been set up there. Tim was all about tech, hadn't wanted to lose his access to a super computer and crime lab when he moved out of the manor. Also, he was a giant nerd that lived for that sort of thing. There was a simplicity, though, in not having to worry about all of that. He allowed himself to take a good look around as he moved over to a stand and hung up the pieces that he stripped off. His boots were set next to it and his gaze turned to the shower. Whether or not Jason was aware of his little idiosyncrasies, he was thrilled at having them respected.
"I'll be quick." Tim promised, grabbing for some clothes from the drawer and making a bee-line for the bathroom that was tucked away. The kevlar was stripped off and set on a counter out of the way. As soon as the water was warm he ducked under it, quickly scrubbing away the sweat and grime that came with the job. He'd never been the type to luxuriate in long showers. They were a means to an end that got him clean.
The civvies were too big on him. He tied the pajama pants around his waist so they wouldn't slide off, and tugged on a t-shirt that seemed to dwarf him. As he toweled his dark hair dry, Tim caught a look at himself in the mirror. Immediately his cheeks flushed and there were tingles everywhere that cloth touched his skin. Jason's clothes. It wasn't at all an intimate thing to let a fellow vigilante borrow some civvies so they didn't sit around in their sweaty gear, yet the sight managed to strike Tim deep in his core, right in the spot that had always been desperate to belong to someone.
Fuck. Fuck.
It hadn't mattered how much he told himself not to do this, not to feel this way, he... he had never gotten over his thing for Jason, had he? Everything had started as a dumb elementary school crush, developed over nights of sneaking out to get pictures of Robin. The most amazing side-kick that had ever existed, the one who did a goofy little wave when he saw Tim and his dumb camera. Even when the guy had tried to kill him (more than once), it had never been quite enough to fully silence the stupid flutter in his chest. And as he got to know this Jason, the adult he'd grown into, it reignited those feelings into an inferno.
So, he was fucked.
Tim carefully hung the towel back on the rack and stepped back out of the bathroom, bare feet padding gently on the floor as he made his way to hang up the rest of his suit. Then he headed for wherever it was that Jason was waiting for him, looking a little more vulnerable than when he left.
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."
❤️
As he grabbed for a disinfecting wipe, it occurred to him that perhaps Jason hadn't said anything because he didn't want any help. But, well, too bad. Tim could be just as stubborn as the rest of the Bats, if not worse. Still, he did his best to be gentle as he wiped down the wound. Jason might have already taken care of it, but it didn't hurt to have it cleaned up a second time before it was bandaged. Staph infections were the reason behind his insistence on showering off right after patrol; he wasn't going to lose Jason to one. Even if it got him bitched at.
The scars weren't terribly shocking to him. Not even the autopsy scar, as much as it different from anything on his own body. That made sense. Jason had died, of course they would perform an autopsy, but he wouldn't have felt it. Others must have been the result so much misfortune and pain. Tim felt empathy, sure, but more than that, they made him admire Jason all the more. The scars were a roadmap to the suffering he had endured in order to do what he felt was right. They didn't always agree on what that meant or the methods used to get there, but he never doubted the man's passion. It wasn't Tim's place to trace those scars with his fingertips, but he gazed at them with an open curiosity as he carefully smoothed the tegaderm over the stapled wound.
"There." Time seemed to slow down around him when he lifted his eyes to peer up at Jason again. There was something different about the way the other man was looking back at him. Tim wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he knew what his foolish heart was hoping for. God, it was so much easier to have feelings from someone from afar. When everything was so out of reach it wasn't worth dwelling on. Were they actually any closer now, though? Did Jason even like men? Even if he did, would he want Tim, of all people? The guy that he'd spent a not insignificant amount of time hating? He was just so bad at this. Didn't even know what to do with himself. "Did you get hurt anywhere else?" This time, when he spoke, his voice was softer. Like if he was too loud, he might wake and realize the whole thing had been some sort of dream.
He didn't even realize he hadn't pulled his hand away from Jason's side. Just kept looking up at him with so many different feelings swirling in his eyes like galaxies rotating through space.
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Jason had been all exuberant energy and unending drive to help people, but he'd never really been a detective. Not like Bruce or Dick and certainly not like Tim. He wasn't dumb, he knew that, but things that took Dick or Tim only seconds to connect his brain didn't see the connection for a minute. Tim had been the Robin that he could never have been, even if he hadn't died. He'd hated the idea that even if he had come home after that trip, Bruce probably still would have replaced him. He'd been a better son than partner.
At least, he'd thought. The batarang scar on his throat seemed to tell him otherwise every time he saw it in a mirror.
Tim stepped in close and helped himself to the oversized medical kit he'd spread out over the table. His stomach twisted and tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the sharp sting of antiseptic and everything to do with the fact that he could smell his own shampoo mingling with the undertones that had to be just Tim. He was still as the younger boy worked, letting himself be poked and prodded and finally bandaged...and then the distraction of his wound was gone and all that was left was the heat of Tim's hand soaking into his side. His eyes like crystalline lasers, making his very being twitch to be perceived so completely. His own cornflower blue eyes flicked down to trace full lips...and in doing so, the faint scar on Tim's neck caught his attention and doused him in ice cold reality.
He'd left that scar. He couldn't even remember exactly which time it was that he'd left it, but he knew that he had. He'd left that scar without a second thought and Pit influences be damned, he'd done it with intent. At the time, he'd been so out of his own mind with manipulated anger and absolutely no control of his own emotional regulation....but he'd still done it. The Pit had done a lot to him, but it hadn't ever forced his hand.
Pulling away, he rubbed at the back of his neck as he moved to cross the room and put space between them.
"Nah, I'm fine. Thanks, though. I'm...I'm gunna shower real quick and then we can head back downstairs. I didn't lock anything if you want to not wait for me." He grabbed clothes as he spoke, then closed the bathroom door almost before his last sentence was finished.
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Some sort of response bubbled in his throat, but he didn't manage to get anything out before the door closed between them. Tim took a moment, physically shaking it off like a dog after a bath. Shut down any possible thought of just going for it as soon as Jason was close enough again. Just so he could know for sure and stop having to dwell on it in the back of his mind. Rejection would be easier than not knowing. Then he could tell the little voice in the back of his head to shut up. But this was supposed to be bonding time, and he couldn't let his feelings make him do anything that could ruin it. The wrong move could sever everything the two had worked towards to be able to get along and work together.
It was hard to trust himself to behave when every cell in his body with singing with desire for him. Tim, who always had complete control over his emotions, who never let this sort of thing get in the way--he was floundering.
He didn't go anywhere. It didn't feel right to explore Jason's place in his absence, even as nosy as he was. Besides, it would be rude to go eat without him, especially when he'd been nice enough to let Tim shower off first. One of his hands reached to rub at his arm and his toes curled awkwardly against the floor. They just needed to eat, have a drink, and everything would be okay. He was determined to make everything okay.
Jay has issues and no one is surprised. XD
But how could he? How could anyone want to kiss someone like him? He was dead, for fuck's sake. Sure, he was better now, but it was all just borrowed time and he was under absolutely no delusions of out living the job. He was going to go down exactly like he did the first time and, more importantly, that was the death he deserved.
He was not a good person. Maybe he never had been, but he certainly wasn't now. He was trying to be better, trying to not let his anger overwhelm everything until all he knew was green...but it was hard and it was slow and he didn't deserve to kiss someone like Tim. Someone he'd hurt time and time again, not on accident but on purpose. With intent. He'd been aiming for his knife to sink into that elegant throat, why the hell did he think he had a right to caress it now instead?
Crossing over to the shower, he twisted the knob as hot as he could stand it, then twisted just a little bit more. The heat was quick to bite into his skin but he didn't let himself hiss as he stepped into the spray. He washed methodically and completely, letting the burn of the heat drive away the image of Tim looking up at him like he had been, all hopeful blue eyes and trust.
By the time the shower stopped, steam was leaking out from under the door. His skin was bright pink and a little shiny, steam coming off his red shoulders and wet hair. The towel scraped against sensitive skin, so he dried off enough to not drip before he pulled on a pair of sweats and the loose, comfortable t-shirt he'd grabbed. There was still steam in his hair when the bathroom door opened, but he was at least a little more settled in his own skin.
His smile was still haunted on his lips, however, so he kept it small so that Tim hopefully wouldn't notice.
"All clean. Ready for some food? I have some beers in the fridge, I think. Tequila, if you want it. I'm probably going to stick to Zesti, though."
babyyy :< meanwhile, tim: https://i.imgur.com/bGFAK1T.jpeg
His first instinct was to get the hell out of dodge. Emotions? Talking through things? Neither were Tim's strong suit. He wasn't Dick Grayson, couldn't go around hugging everyone too tight and demanding they say how they feel. Despite that, though, he didn't try to make an excuse to leave or bite his lip and following along silently. He wasn't timid or a fragile little waif unable to handle situations head on when the need called for it. A Robin who acted that way was bound to have been eaten alive.
Jason was unhappy with him. Had he realized that Tim had been close to leaning in for a kiss and felt disgusted? God, he didn't want to believe that. If the kiss thing was mostly in his head anyway, maybe Jason hadn't even realized it almost happened. It was about the bandaging, then. Tim must have misunderstood what he perceived as them having bonded and overstepped a line Jason felt was important. Fine. He could handle this. Then the rest of the night would go smoother.
The younger of the two steeled himself, took a breath and set his shoulders. "Honestly, I'd rather have a Zesti, but that's not the point." One of his hands waved as if brushing that off. Anxiety fizzled through his veins, but that was hardly a new feeling for him. He'd survive. "Jason, if you're mad about me helping bandage you, I--" A small snort, because he wasn't about to lie to try to make things easier. "I'm not going to apologize for it. I know I probably should have waited for you to say it was okay, but you needed help. If we're going to work together on things, you have to be willing to let me lend a hand. I know you don't like me much, but I want you to feel like you can trust me." At the last bit, his voice softened.
XD!!
He watched Tim steel himself, watched those bright blue eyes harden...and he frowned. "Bandage? What are you talking about, Timbers? Why would I be mad at you for helping me with a bandage?" Confusion was thick in his voice...but then he was thinking back to how lost Tim had looked as he'd ran to hide in the bathroom and suddenly things made a little more sense.
Well, shit.
Sighing, the older man scrubbed at his pink face with his hands, coaxing just a little more sharp ache out of the heated skin before he let his arms drop.
"I'm not mad at you and I do like you, so just wipe that stupidity right out of your head. I just...I tried to kill you, Tim. A lot. Got pretty damned close to it, too. I figured you wouldn't want me that close to you without a muzzle."
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There was caution in each step he took to get closer to Jason, but now he felt like there was a point to prove. "I'm not afraid of you, Jason. I like being near you." Tim paused just in front of him, and stared up at him with those big blue eyes of his again. "I can defend myself. I'm smart enough to know who I can trust. A lot of what happened went down the way it did because you were being manipulated, or trauma and the pit made you think it was an okay way to deal with your anger."
His hand reached forward to rest against Jason's bicep, establishing physical touch between the two of them. Nothing overwhelming, but there and solid and real. "Even if none of that was true, it wouldn't even matter. Because if I tried to punch you right now, I genuinely believe you'd do your best not to fight back too hard because you don't want to hurt me anymore." He couldn't help the little smirk that reappeared on his face. "And because I think you know I could kick your ass these days."
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And then Tim just had to go and sass and Jason's tension released with a surprised bark of laughter. It broke the heaviness in the air cleanly and completely and Jason offered a fond, lopsided smile to the younger man before he reached out to lightly knock his knuckles against Tim's bony shoulder.
"You couldn't kick my ass if I was blindfolded and handcuffed, pipsqueak. Come on, lets go shove some food in our faces and maybe pull up a movie? Gotta let those Zestis settle before you drive and all that." He was playful, but there was an undertone of gratitude under the flippant tone. He recognized better than most exactly how hard it was for any of them to really talk about things like that, so for Tim to dig down for that little speech...it had to mean something.
Something like maybe Tim really was comfortable with him. And maybe that was a bad idea, but Jason hoped that it wasn't.
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So Tim was smiling as the two of them made their way back down to the kitchen, back to the calm he'd felt before his moment gazing at himself in the mirror. A hunger pang struck him as he smelled the food again. He swore if he didn't eat soon he was going to start drooling. Still, he was raised with manners and just helped grab forks and drinks so they could get settled quicker. The look in his eyes made just how starving he felt pretty obvious, he was one hundred percent zeroed in on the food.
"What sort of movie do you want to watch?" This was new territory for the two of them, having to find something they could both enjoy. Not that Tim was terribly particular about what he watched, as long as it didn't bore him to the point that sleep started calling his name. "I'm willing to let you pick, but I'm definitely going to judge you based on what you decide." If Jason was going to argue for something based on classic literature, it better have some sort of action or something. Otherwise he was going to have to pry Tim's sleeping body off of his couch and dump him into Redbird himself.
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There was way more in that bag then Red Hood had ordered and Jason scoffed as he held out a box of canoli. "Put these in the fridge, please? I didn't know they were in there or I would have put them in when we got here. I knew she was going to try to feed you, I didn't think she was going to send home half her damned menu."
In the end, they both had plates of carbonara and garlic knots, small bowls of salad, and there was at least an entire entry sized container that Jason hadn't opened yet. He left the plates on the bar, balancing the leftovers carefully as he headed to put them away.
"If you're going to judge me for whatever I pick, I may as well just enjoy it, right? Star Trek: Generations. A decent bounce point if you've never seen the originals and almost the best of both casts in one movie. Plus, Guinan. You can never go wrong with Guinan."
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As soon as Jason picked what they were watching, Tim paused and looked a little suspicious. At first he wondered if perhaps Jason knew that Star Trek was one of his favorites and only picked it for that reason, but the moment he mentioned Guinan, Tim knew he was a real fan. "Of course I've seen the originals. The first movie wasn't great but Wrath of Khan? You should have seen how hard I cried the first time I saw Spock die." Poor baby Tim, emotionally attached to fictional characters in lieu of parents.
"I do like the Next Generation cast better though. Not sure if it was just because it was on TV a lot when I was younger or if they did a better job. Picard over Kirk all day every day. Guinan was great, but I always really liked Data, especially when you got to see him with Spot." Tim chattered along, clearly very happy to have one of his special interests catered to. He settled in and waited for Jason to have a seat so he could start eating. Just because he was well behaved enough not to actually stuff his face, didn't mean he didn't want to.