It was not unlike Tim to be quiet, especially with so many thoughts swirling around in that big brain of his. He'd taken a shower (Jason was indeed well aware it was a requirement as soon as he got out of costume) and then changed into loose, comfortable pajamas. They made him look younger, and without the protective armor adding to his frame, he looked a little more slight, too.
The slightly shiny scar on his neck was old. While many might have expected a perfect thin line where Jason had slashed his blade, it was instead marred in the center by getting shot through the throat. There were a lot of injuries that happened while he was Robin, none of them stood out more than the others to him. More importantly, he wasn't injured at all at the moment. Still, despite his lack of skill in emotional connection, he knew why Jason had gotten the kit and sat without complaint as his neck was wrapped.
His head lifted when Dick made an appearance, and the ball of ache in his chest unwound just a little. Tim took a long drink of the cocoa his boyfriend had handed to him and sank into the comfortable couch cushions. He also had no appetite, but that was hardly unusual for him.
There was a lot to say. He had no idea how he was going to say any of it. None of them had a ton of help learning how to handle situations like this during their formative teen years. He had done a lot of work on himself, tried really hard to better himself as a person so he could just go out there and be normal, but it was draining. Made him wonder if maybe that was why Bruce had stopped bothering as he'd gotten older.
But Tim Drake was not Bruce Wayne.
So while something in him was pleading to retreat, find somewhere on his own to process and block the rest of the world out, he stayed seated there on the couch with Jason and waited for Dick to be done changing.
no subject
The slightly shiny scar on his neck was old. While many might have expected a perfect thin line where Jason had slashed his blade, it was instead marred in the center by getting shot through the throat. There were a lot of injuries that happened while he was Robin, none of them stood out more than the others to him. More importantly, he wasn't injured at all at the moment. Still, despite his lack of skill in emotional connection, he knew why Jason had gotten the kit and sat without complaint as his neck was wrapped.
His head lifted when Dick made an appearance, and the ball of ache in his chest unwound just a little. Tim took a long drink of the cocoa his boyfriend had handed to him and sank into the comfortable couch cushions. He also had no appetite, but that was hardly unusual for him.
There was a lot to say. He had no idea how he was going to say any of it. None of them had a ton of help learning how to handle situations like this during their formative teen years. He had done a lot of work on himself, tried really hard to better himself as a person so he could just go out there and be normal, but it was draining. Made him wonder if maybe that was why Bruce had stopped bothering as he'd gotten older.
But Tim Drake was not Bruce Wayne.
So while something in him was pleading to retreat, find somewhere on his own to process and block the rest of the world out, he stayed seated there on the couch with Jason and waited for Dick to be done changing.