Work Text:
Jason pressed another kiss to the side of Tim’s leg, and Tim hissed in pain before pulling away. Except, the several layers of compressive bandages covering his thigh didn’t exactly let him move all that far or fast.
Which, of course, meant that the slow drag of Jason’s fingertips over his thigh returned within mere moments, putting all of Tim’s efforts to sneak away to shame.
“Jason, stop. You know it’s still sensitive right now,” Tim said. “There are plenty of other places you can touch, you know. More interesting places than my thigh, at least. I’m sure that’ll be more fun for the both of us.”
“Later,” Jason said, unphased by Tim’s clumsy offer. “We have plenty of time for fun later, when you’re not on the verge of having your stitches rip halfway open if someone so much as looks at you the wrong way. For now, I want to make sure your wound is healing properly. I won’t let your leg get ruined by some nasty infection just because you were too busy coming up with a dozen unnecessary plans for those stupid ‘what-if’ scenarios you keep thinking about to take care of it.”
“‘What-if’ doesn’t mean impossible,” Tim argued. “Besides, I’m taking care of it just fine. You know, not getting it too wet and changing the dressings often.”
“And I keep telling you that I’ll deal with it, if they do happen. Besides, I think you’re not doing as good of a job as you think.”
“You don’t know what. You have your own things to deal with.”
Jason’s fingers curled, and his grip on Tim’s leg tightened. It was a small thing, the change in pressure, but Tim couldn’t stop grimacing in pain because of it.
Jason frowned, and his eyes narrowed. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant sight. “See? You’re still hurt, and you’re just going to make it worse by not taking care of yourself. So, I guess you’ll just have to let me take care of you instead.”
He tried, but Tim struggled to find anything to say in response. So, instead, he huffed his displeasure as Jason examined the bandages on Tim’s left leg, digging his fingertips into the crevices to test exactly how tight they were.
And, once again, Tim jerked away. Faster this time. Harsher, too. It was akin to a flinch, or the way a child pulled their hand away from a hot stove for the first time — one of the harsher lessons in everyone’s life, if the tears and red hot palm stood for anything.
But he couldn’t help it. The cut still stung to the touch, even now when Jason was being so gentle with him. A part of Tim even wanted to say that Jason was being too gentle. Uncharacteristically so. Even back when he was Robin and more fresh-faced and less jaded, Jason had never been particularly ‘gentle.’
In fact, back when Jason first took over the Robin mantle, some of Gotham’s more discerning news articles and gossip sites had made note of how Robin had transformed into a whole different beast, seemingly overnight. Tim remembered it clearly because he, too, had noticed, and it made his young, wannabe detective self feel better knowing that he hadn’t been imagining things when he noticed Robin acting so wild and reckless all of a sudden.
That, and the rare photos of the new Robin soaring across the Gotham skyline looked way shorter than the one Tim had spent hours trying to catch glimpses of during his wild, hormonal preteen years, but that was a whole other issue.
More specifically, that was an issue he really didn’t want to broach with Jason.
Out of all of Bruce’s Robin’s, Jason was undoubtedly the most tenacious. Like a starving dog, or a wolf caught on a hunt that he refused to let lay even as the snow piled higher and the days turned shorter, Jason rarely let go of something once he set his sights on it.
As it so happened, that included Tim, for better or worse.
It began with Jason’s mad desire to reclaim the title of Robin. Sure, he never really be Batman’s Robin again, but that probably didn’t really matter to Jason either way; it was the principle of the thing, or something. Taking back something that he never should’ve been bereft of in the first place as a means of righting the near infinite amount of wrongs Jason had accrued at the hands of others, Tim supposed. He never quite understood it himself, even as he lay bleeding on the cold, dark streets of Gotham while Jason stood over him, but just because he couldn’t relate didn’t make it any less real.
Or less intense.
As time passed, and as the Pit fell further and further into the past — not necessarily a distant memory, but at least a little less sharp — Jason’s obsession, for a lack of a better word, soon morphed into a whole other beast. At first, it was nothing more than a tentative truce between the two of them. When it came to dealing with all the shit smeared all over Gotham, they only had so much energy leftover to go around resenting each other. That, and Tim never really disliked Jason all that much to begin with.
He just never knew what to do with Jason.
However, for a while, when their half-baked alliance started to feel like something more permanent and worthwhile, Tim thought that, maybe, Jason wasn’t that confusing after all.
For years, Bruce seldom spoke about Jason, both before and after his resurrection. Sometimes, Tim had tried to coax some kind of information out of him. Anything to know more about Batman and Robin, their role in Gotham, and what Tim was supposed to do when he was the one donning the reds and greens and gold that people looked up to.
Even a dead Robin had some tips to give, he figured.
Bruce rarely felt the same way, and Dick had been too busy trying to establish himself as Nightwing to regale Tim with stories about Jason. Escapades and rocky romances with alien princesses who’d had their title violently stripped away from them took a lot of time and energy out of a guy, it seemed.
Except, occasionally, there’d be moments. Infinitesimal flashes behind Bruce’s eyes that seemed to come out of nowhere. But, when they did come, they proved vicious.
“Jason never knew when to quit,” Bruce told him one day, voice barely above a whisper. Amidst the soft whir of all the computers and other electronics littering the Batcave, he should’ve been barely audible. And yet, every word he spoke sounded so clear to Tim’s ear. “Even when he’d first started — after only a few months of training because he insisted on coming out on the field with me far sooner than he should have — he always went after the worst criminals of them all, even though I tried to start him off small. The mob bosses and the ones who barely had anything human about them left. Set his sights on the top instead of the underlings I kept sending his way.”
Bruce sighed. The wrinkles scalloping the edges of his eyes deepened before branching out to his temples, and he looked so terribly old in that moment. “I don’t know where I went wrong.”
“Maybe it wasn’t you, in the first place. Maybe it was just the way it happened to turn out, and that there was nothing you could do about it. You can train someone to be Robin, but that doesn’t mean you can get them to be whatever you want,” Tim had offered quietly.
Bruce, of course, got very little comfort from it, but he didn’t speak on it and instead offered his own, “Maybe.”
Though, now that Jason was alive again and hovering over the edge of Tim’s bed with a fresh roll of gauze and bandages, Tim thought that he had been right all along.
Because Jason would not fucking let up.
“Jason, we both know you don’t have to change the bandages right now,” Tim said. “There’s hardly any blood, and the pressure on the cut right now is basically perfect. Or are you saying you don’t trust Alfred’s first aid skills, even after all the times he’s all but saved your life?”
“It’s not that. I just want to make sure it’s good, with my own hands. Besides, your life and my life are two completely different things. You’ve never died before, and I very much plan to keep it that way,” Jason murmured.
Tim rolled his eyes and worked very, very hard to hold back another pained hiss when Jason began unraveling his dressings. No point in encouraging Jason when he was already being so annoying about something as mundane as a nasty, to-the-bone laceration covering the majority of Tim’s left thigh. He feared Jason might actually make good on his half-joking promises to tie him up and force him to rest at the Manor for the next four weeks like Jason first proposed if Tim did end up giving him any reason to, and Gotham simply couldn’t afford something like that.
“I am not dying,” Tim said. “Never knew you could be so dramatic. I thought that kind of stuff was Damian’s strong suit.”
Jason scowled, and his expression turned fierce, but the brush of his fingertips remained as soft and gentle as ever. “Do not compare me to Bruce’s little hellspawn. I’m much better than him. More attractive, too.”
“I don’t know, that last point feels kinda debatable right now.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
Tim scoffed. “I mean, I think I’d find you more attractive if you didn’t nag me so much. You’re starting to sound worse than Lucius after he decided to start acting like my de facto father figure, and I’d hate to start daydreaming about taking him to bed during board meetings just because you can’t trust me to take care of myself every once in a while.”
Jason snarled, and his face turned into something bordering on cruel. Unfortunately for Tim, he couldn’t help but find it kinda hot, and that didn’t do anything to help him maintain the sense of righteous annoyance he was trying so hard to convey.
“I really can’t see Lucius Fox as being your type,” Jason said slowly.
Tim shrugged and held back a smile. It was fun to tease Jason, but he didn’t need to escalate the situation even further, especially when Tim was mildly incapacitated. Heaven forbid he rile up Jason so much that he went ahead and convinced Bruce and Alfred to conspire against Tim to keep him holed up in the manor for the sake of protecting him from more injuries and other men, or whatever. “I don’t know, I think Lucius has aged pretty well. But, of course, he’s no match for you.”
“Of course,” Jason repeated, and his expression finally settled into something halfway satisfied. That didn’t stop him from poking and prodding at Tim’s leg once more, but Tim could tolerate that much for now.
That, and he kinda had to admit that the wound really did look quite nasty. Honestly, the actual impact itself hadn’t been that painful, but that might’ve been partly due to the flood of adrenaline flooding his system when he realized that his line had been cut. Thankfully, Batwoman had been around to keep him from any major injuries, but even she couldn’t reach him in time to stop a large chunk of his leg from scraping against the side of an old, weathered building that surely couldn’t have been up to state mandated health standards.
At least his tetanus shots were up to date.
Still, he hadn’t expected Ulysses to pull a stunt like that. He was a genius, for sure, and it didn’t necessarily surprise Tim that he had been able to develop something sharp enough that could so cleanly slice through the nigh indestructible wires Bruce had designed. Tim just never thought that Ulysses would be the type to do something so… direct.
Well, perhaps Ulysses expected Tim to survive the fall. Perhaps the point of the whole incident was to intimidate Tim — to show him just how easily Ulysses could hurt him, if he really wanted to. That, just because Tim ahd Bruce and now the rest of the Bats by his side, that didn’t mean Ulysses was powerless.
Or something.
Either way, Tim didn’t really want to think about it for now. Even if he did, he certainly couldn’t do much against Ulysses in his current state, and, though he hates to admit it, having Jason follow him around like some rabid guard dog did help Tim learn that, sometimes, taking a step back and letting others take the reigns for a bit wasn’t all that bad.
Which, to be honest, was a strange thought. Tim always assumed that Dick would be the one to help teach him how to be less like Bruce and more like… a vaguely normal person who didn’t insist on trying to solve all the world’s problems on his own until he eventually realized that asking others for help made for some pretty good strategizing after all. Jason did quite enjoy being contrary when it came to Bruce and nearly everything he stood for, however, so maybe Tim shouldn’t have been so surprised.
‘Jason never knew when to give up.’
Jason was relentless, and, even after settling down a bit over the past few years, Tim still saw a hint of green behind Jason’s eyes at times, when the lowlights of broken street lamps hit them at that certain sharp angle.
Other times, he saw the rage.
“What are you thinking about right now?” Jason whispered. “You were so lost in thought you didn’t even react when I started to disinfect your leg.”
Tim blinked, felt like he’d awoken from a terrible nap, and looked down. Lo and behold, Jason had gotten the witch hazel out on a dampened cloth that he’d rested atop Tim’s thigh. His skin still looked gnarled, and the red, cracked edges of the open wound had yet to pucker up and fuse back together. The stitches were still perfectly intact, at least; he’d expect nothing less of Alfred’s handiwork, but that didn’t stop Tim’s mild disappointment upon seeing just how much longer the recovery would take.
“Nothing much,” Tim replied after some not-so-gentle prodding from Jason. “Just Dick, I guess.”
Jason’s hands stilled. Then, he looked up at Tim with an eyebrow raised and his lips twisted into a devious smirk, and Tim felt both annoyed and envious of how good it made him look. “As much as I’d like to oblige, I think we should probably take it easy for now. Wouldn’t want to get lectured by Alfred for re-opening your wound just because I wanted to roll around in the sheets for a few hours.”
Tim rolled his eyes just in time to hide the wince he would’ve made otherwise at the feeling of damp cotton scraping over his leg. “A few hours? You’re giving yourself a lot of credit, huh.”
“Have you already forgotten about that weekend we spent together a few weeks ago, or were all those hours we spent together so amazing that you nearly blacked out and forgot about it?”
Tim tried to roll his eyes again, but the muscles of his face refused to respond. Against his own volition, the synapses behind his eyelids forced him to keep his gaze locked on Jason’s. Surprisingly, he actually hadn’t passed out or anything that weekend. He recalled every last bit of it, and the memory of it just about set his skin on fire.
Jason had gone on some wacky, interstellar adventure with Roy and Kori before then, and he’d been gone far longer than any of them anticipated. That was to say, they were gone for just as long as Tim kinda expected because dealing with the political affairs of alien species always took longer than it should.
“I promise, I won’t get involved with whatever beef they’ve got with each other,” Jason had assured in the days prior, as they lay in bed together. It was one of Jason’s more comfortable beds, in one of his nicer safe houses. Tim knew that because once upon a time — when Jason’s main concern when it came to Tim was thinking of ways to off him as part of his master plan for retribution against Bruce — he’d researched the location of all of Jason’s safe houses.
Most of them were absolute shit holes, to say the least. Several of them were situated smack dab in the middle of the seediest parts of the city, which, for Gotham, said a lot. The others located in slightly better neighborhoods tended to be on the cheaper, more moldy and hazardous side. At the time, Tim figured it kinda made sense; not only did it save Jason money while he was still living independently from Wayne funds, but it also made it easier for him to live out his violent vigilante ways if he was close to the action.
Except, Bruce had since forgiven Jason enough to give him access to all his billions, and not even Jason was so stubborn to not use any of it to his own advantage. Despite that, Tim knew that Jason had kept all those old safe houses.
But he never brought Tim inside any of them.
Only after securing a handful of nice and safe apartments did he begin inviting Tim over. When he realized as much, Tim tried to convince him otherwise. Unfortunately, Jason never budged when he set his mind on something, and, after a few months of being subjected to strenuous bouts of ‘punishment’ in bed, Tim figured he’d never win against Jason as they stood now.
So, Tim wasn’t surprised when Jason ended up breaking that particular promise. For a guy like him, promises paled in comparison to the very nature of his being. In other words, Jason couldn’t let the troubles of one of his one true friends pass him by so easily, and thus began his month-long intergalactic adventure.
Tim had missed Jason then. He could admit it. Which made their reunion all the sweeter, even if it left Tim’s ass sore for the next three days, to Dick’s unending amusement.
“You’re zoning out on me again,” Jason announced, sharper this time. He never quite liked being ignored. “Still thinking about dick, or what? Do I need to suck you off once to get you to focus on the matter at hand?”
“You’re even needier than Ace sometimes. And, to clarify, I’m actually thinking about Dick Grayson, thank you very much.” Tim turned his nose up to give Jason the prettiest view of his lashes. “I don’t think about you all the time, you know.”
Jason’s eyes glittered. Tim almost swooned.
“Either way, I’d rather you didn’t think about other men when I have my hand suggestively wrapped around your upper thigh,” Jason growled.
Tim just smiled. “So needy,” he cooed, but he didn’t really mind all that much. A needy Jason was a cute Jason. “I’ll spoil you after you finish re-bandaging me up for no reason, ok? Hurry up, now, or I might just fall asleep from how slow you’re going.”
Naturally, Jason’s fingers picked up an impressive amount of speed. Despite his haste, he actually ended up doing a pretty good job with the gauze, Tim saw. Several years’ worth of experience with dressing his own wounds probably helped.
And Tim was a man of his word, so he happily welcomed Jason into his bed with him and didn’t utter a single complaint the whole night, even with all the buckets he kept sweating from being practically smothered by Jason’s entire being.
Still, it was cute, and Tim was always a sucker for Jason when he was being cute.
Jason tried to be a man of his word.
He really did.
Aside from heinous criminals and Bruce’s hypocritical sense of self-righteousness, there were few things in life that he despised more than bold-faced liars and people who refused to uphold their promises. He’d grown up with and suffered at the hands of more than enough of them for one lifetime.
Not to mention, Tim always looked so happy when Jason put in the extra effort to keep his promises. For example, the look of surprise intermixed with pure joy that graced Tim’s face that one time Jason obliged him and didn’t throw that one mafioso off the top of a building. It hadn’t been a very tall one, so the guy probably would’ve at least stayed alive after the fall. Still, Tim implored Jason to detain him with a little less bloodshed and broken bones, and who was Jason to deny him such a simple request?
That, and, Tim let Jason spoil him more whenever Jason did as he asked. He didn’t complain when Jason insisted on eating him out for nearly an hour at a time, like he usually did — something about finding it strange to have someone else’s tongue slobbering up a river in his asshole for so long, whatever that meant. Instead, Tim would whimper and keen as he arched further into Jason’s touch, finally giving himself absolute permission to enjoy himself as he pleased.
It was disappointing, Jason thought. It was disappointing that Tim only let himself sink into pure satisfaction when he felt that someone else had accomplished something. Jason blamed Bruce for that. He may not have personally seen what Bruce had done to Tim, but he was sure he’d done something.
Because Bruce always did something to his Robins. Not only had he gotten Jason killed at the hands of a madman that he should’ve gotten rid of years ago, he even turned Damian into a bigger brat than he’d been while training with Ra’s and his bitch of a mother. If that wasn’t a testament to the awful influence Bruce had on sad, teenage boys, then Jason didn’t know what was.
Which meant that he, of course, blamed Bruce for the promise Jason was surely going to break.
“Jason, I know what that look in your eyes means,” Tim told him.
He was ruining their quaint moment together by saying stuff like that. They didn’t often get the chance to simply bask in each others’ presence in front of a roaring fire as they sipped mulled wine. A perfect fall setting, courtesy of Alfred. Still, Jason did pride himself on the blanket he’d draped over them. It brought them even closer as they struggled to huddle beneath its short length, and Jason did love to be close to Tim.
Jason also loved to oblige Tim. He’d had enough with fighting him. He didn’t want to see Tim laying on the street, practically drowned out by the heavy rain as his blood sank into the cracks of the sidewalk before dripping down the nearby gutter. It was a dramatic example, but a real one. One Jason had seen before, and that he continued to see in his dreams because his own mind had so much fun torturing him with his past mistakes.
Which he probably deserved. That didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Jason,” Tim repeated, voice rising to a sharp crescendo on the second syllable. “You have to promise me that you won’t go after Ulysses and do God knows what to him.”
Jason frowned at that, annoyed, but also not quite surprised. Tim had always been far too good-natured for his own good. Sure, he had far more sass than Dick — which Jason greatly appreciated from him because Tim looked even more enticing than usual when he was being particularly brazen — but a few verbal jabs didn’t make one any less wholesome.
Tim knew how to pick at a person. He was a pro at it, and he did it with such grace that left people in so much awe that they often forgot to feel offended in the first place. It was things like that that made madmen like Ra’s al Ghul obsessed with Tim, to Jason’s unending ire.
And yet, he wouldn’t change a single thing about Tim.
That even included Tim’s gratuitous sense of mercy.
He still limped, weeks after the initial injury. He’d gotten off of his crutches quickly enough. Too quickly, according to Alfred. Sadly, even Alfred’s thinly-veiled threats of stuffing Tim full of unappetizing health foods unless he started using his crutches again weren’t enough to deter Tim.
That didn’t hide the fact that he was still suffering, though.
Tim was being impatient. He knew he couldn’t possibly heal from a wound that deep so quickly, and trying to rush the healing process was more than stupid; pushing himself too hard, too fast in a cesspool like Gotham would surely lead to some kind of bone infection, and that would only put Tim out of commission for longer. Jason knew that much, and, if he did, Tim definitely did too.
Except, Tim clearly couldn’t help himself from trying to ignore reality.
Jason figured it had something to do with the fact that Tim hated being outdone, especially by snarky teenagers who liked to wreak havoc because they had nothing better to do with their time. Compared to Bruce, the so-called ‘World’s Greatest Detective’, at Tim’s age, Tim was already galaxies ahead of him. That, and he was more likable, too, which went a long way in the superhero community. Even left with an entire month with nothing else to do, Jason wouldn’t be able to finish recounting all of the times Bruce threatened someone’s safety just by virtue of being an ornery bastard.
That being said, he hoped Tim’s impatience would help change his mind about the whole ‘let’s not take revenge on evil assholes, even if they totally deserved it.’ If there was ever an opportune moment for it, now looked like a good one.
As usual, his wish hadn’t come true.
“Are you listening to me?” Tim asked. He tried to make himself look more imposing and crossed his arms in front of him before shifting his stance. Or, attempting to shift his stance. The pain of the extra weight must’ve been pretty bad, based on the massive wince Tim so desperately tried to hide.
The thought had Jason seeing red. Then, green.
“I’m listening to you,” Jason responded. “I always am. I’ve heard every single word you’ve said.”
“Then why haven’t you said anything?”
“I didn’t think there was any reason to, when everything you’re saying is so ridiculous.”
Tim narrowed his eyes and huffed. It made him look unbelievably adorable, like a hamster with his cheeks stuffed with a hoard for nuts. Or Tim as a regular human, mouth full of nuts of another kind.
Jason smiled to himself at the thought, pleased with the image he’d conjured up for himself to admire. Hopefully, after Jason finally convinced Tim to rest so he could properly heal, they’d be able to make that a reality.
Then, as if reading his mind, Tim’s cute pout turned into a full-fledged frown, and Jason readied himself for the argument that was approaching him faster than the crash of a monsoon.
“What about it is so ridiculous?” Tim asked. “I don’t think my request is ridiculous at all. In fact, the only ridiculous thing about this situation is the fact that I have to ask this of you in the first place. I assume most people wouldn’t need to be reminded to not go around hurting people for no reason.”
Jason hissed. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to be sweet to Tim, always, but, sometimes, it felt like he needed to get a bit mean for Tim to really get it. Because he didn’t like to upset Tim. Not even in the most mundane ways. But, sometimes, he couldn’t help it, when it was for Tim’s own good.
“Whimper in bed one more time because of how much pain you’re in and then tell me how going after Ulysses would be ‘for no reason’. I don’t particularly enjoy seeing you writhing around in the middle of the night when for any other reason than me sucking you off, you know,” Jason said, low and slow.
Tim flushed, but the pinch at the corner of his lips remained firm. “Oh, please, you’re being dramatic. So what if sometimes the cut acts up a little bit? It’s really not that bad, in the grand scheme of things. Just give it some time, and it’ll be nothing more than one more occupational hazard amongst many for us. We didn’t sign up for this life thinking stuff like this would never happen.”
“Just because it’s ‘not that bad’ doesn’t mean someone shouldn’t do something about it. Not to mention, not every injury will lead to a scar like that one,” Jason argued, voice barely above a whisper. As a result, Tim was forced to lean in closer, which Jason happily took advantage of.
With the wound — still wrapped up in layers of the softest gauze money could buy because, occasionally, the cut would slowly tear apart at the seams, letting tiny rivulets of blood peek through — Tim clearly couldn’t move as fast. For the most part, it didn’t matter much. Even the major asshole Bruce refused to let Tim out on the field in his current state, so Tim had spent the past few weeks helping Babara with her work. Of course, he still insisted on doing some form of training, to basically everyone’s disapproval, but all the conditioning in the world couldn’t offset what Ulysses had done to him.
Jason hated to see Tim like this — hurting, wanting, surely questioning himself and how much he deserved to be Red Robin after letting himself get so badly blindsided — even though Gotham needed him more than the rest of them. His favorite Tim was a happy Tim. A Tim who laughed at Jason’s cheesy jokes as they sat atop the edge of one of Gotham’s tallest buildings with nothing more than a heaping pile of fries and spicy chicken nuggets between them. And they had to be thick cut crinkle fries, too, from an often overlooked hole in the wall halfway between Gotham and Bludhaven.
Because Tim liked those fries the best, and Jason liked whatever Tim liked.
Sure, Tim didn’t really appreciate suddenly being manhandled by Jason right now, but that was a small sacrifice Jason was more than willing to make to get his point across.
“Look at you. Your leg’s so beat up you can’t even pretend to be able to get away from me,” Jason whispered. “But you’re still going to pretend like what happened is something I can just ignore?”
Tim sighed with a deep furrow of his brows and wrinkle of his nose. If his arms weren’t otherwise occupied by Jason’s grip on them, he’d probably be furiously rubbing at his temples, too.
“Jason, look, I appreciate the thought. Really. But, I think if you just give yourself some time to cool off, you’ll wonder why you even felt the need to go on some wild revenge scheme in the first place. Just stay by me and help me out while I recover, ok? If you do, I’m sure I’ll get better even faster, and then you really won’t have a reason to be so upset. Besides, it wasn’t like Ulysses himself went up to me and snapped my leg in half, or whatever. It was just an unfortunate accident, in the end. Nothing to get ‘revenge’ over.”
Tim kept his voice sweet and his smile sweeter. Even the look in his eyes and the slight tilt of his head all seemed to be conspiring against Jason, uniting together to put together a full force display of tranquility.
They both knew Jason was a sucker for Tim’s nice face. If Tim curled his lips just the right way — the same way he was doing now where he managed to puff out his bottom lip while still maintaining a strangely genuine smile at the corners — he could easily have Jason wrapped around his little finger, doing every little demeaning thing Tim might ask of him if he were a raging brat like Damian.
As a matter of fact, the look Tim kept using to expectantly gaze up at him was the very same look that got Jason hooked in the first place.
It took a few years for Jason to finally gain some control over the constant rage the Pit left him with. One time, when Ra’s was in one of his more generous moods, Jason went ahead and asked him about it, after breaking into one of The League’s strongholds and cutting down half of the sad excuses for assassins Ra’s entrusted to guard the place.
“The Pit brings you back as you were,” Ra’s had explained, looking at Jason as if he were the stupidest creature to set foot on the planet for not knowing as much. “Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I imagine you must’ve passed in anger, for it to linger so intensely in you.”
Well, wasn’t that the truth.
Jason imagined that Ra’s must’ve passed away with desire in his heart because he was one greedy bastard. He wanted everything he set his sights on.
Including Tim. The way Ra’s looked at Tim made Jason want to scrape Ra’s eyes out of his orbits with a screwdriver, muscles and nerves and all, because he felt the rage when it came to that, too.
But he’d gotten better at controlling it, with some time. Not having to constantly toss himself into the Pit like Ra’s probably helped. Not to mention, working alongside Tim changed him, too.
Because he wanted to be the kind of person Tim liked, and Tim didn’t particularly care for murderous madmen who went around tearing apart warehouses full of smuggled weapons, and the like.
He couldn’t get away from the anger, though. He could make an effort to control it, tamp it down for long enough to get Tim to give him one of his award-winning smiles, but it persisted. It was always there.
Undeniable.
Unforgettable.
Unfathomable to anyone other than Jason himself.
It was unfair of him to expect Tim to understand what he was feeling and why his thoughts kept racing back to images of Ulysses, bloody and battered in a hidden underground alcove. No one would be able to find him, unless Jason let them. And he would, eventually, but only after it was far too late to save him. After all, what was the point of going through all the effort of reeling Ulysses in, catching him and tearing him apart if there was no one to admire the aftermath?
It was like that stupid, cheesy saying. ‘If a tree falls, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?’
But trying to tell Tim all of that would do Jason no good. So, he sighed and put on his best ‘oh, you got me’ face before saying, “Fine. I can see you’re not gonna budge on this, even with your leg still all beat up like that. Really, I don’t know what Bruce did to you that was so different from the rest of us, but you’re like a saint amongst a bunch of grade A assholes.”
Tim rolled his eyes, and the tiny clench of his shoulders relaxed as the muscles of his face softened, bringing back that boyish charm of his. It was barely anything at all, really, but Jason still noticed it; he always noticed those kinds of things when it came to Tim.
“You really give me too much credit,” Tim said, smiling and finally at ease once more. “Anyway, have you finally calmed down enough to help me get cleaned up? This bandage is a pain in the ass to shower with, you know.”
Jason gave Tim an exaggerated grin, coupled with a cartoonish lick of his lips and wink, which Tim took in stride with his own melodramatic wink. “Oh, well, you do know how much I love to see you all wet and naked in front of me. In fact, I love it so much that I don’t even mind playing caretaker for a while. You good to go now?”
“I’m ready to go now that you are,” Tim said pointedly.
“Of course you are.”
With a broad sweep of his arms, Jason wrapped Tim up into his arms in a single motion, much to Tim’s ire. At least, Tim made a big show of letting Jason know just how annoyed he was with being bridal carried through half of the manor’s west wing. Except, if he really didn’t like it, Tim would never let Jason manhandle him like this in the first place, major leg injury or not.
He still had a perfectly functioning mouth, after all. While Jason loved that mouth, for the most part, it did often speak of many things that Jason, quite frankly, didn’t like to hear a lot of the time.
But that was ok. He wouldn’t have to worry about all of that when the time came because he didn’t plan on wearing an earpiece that night.
“You’ve been awfully quiet today. Is something going on? Or are you plotting something?”
Jason finished one last polish of the inside of his pistol. Bruce — and pretty much the rest of the team — greatly disapproved of him still using firearms. Bruce and Kate, especially, liked to give him disappointed and hopeful looks every time they saw him, as if he was just some kid who took his rebellious stage a little too far, but he was sure to come around in the end, if they just stayed insistent enough.
What a load of bullshit.
Regardless, they all knew he’d never give them up. Not when they’ve done both him and plenty of innocent people more good than the Big Bats himself could. Instead, they’ve all convinced themselves to be grateful that Jason’s at least gained some control over that bloodlust of his.
Still, that didn’t stop Tim’s eyes from shuddering and darting to the side as he watched Jason reload the barrel before giving the pistol one last once-over.
It wasn’t like Jason enjoyed upsetting Tim like this. Of course not. He actually went through great efforts to hide his firearms from Tim — not the easiest task, when he had so many of them, but he almost always made it work.
He was showing them off to Tim on purpose today, though. Anything to throw Tim off balance, even just a bit, was worth more than gold to Jason right now.
Because Tim was too smart for his own good. And Jason liked that about him, for the most part, but when it came to stuff like this it was kinda a pain in his ass.
“I’m not plotting anything. Just thinking about what Kori’s been going through, with all those alien issues she has to deal with,” Jason said.
Tim tilted his head and frowned, unconvinced, but still very pretty nonetheless. “Didn’t know you were such a nice guy. You know, getting so concerned about others that you forgot to latch all your locks shut all the way. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you get that worked up before, even when you were so desperate trying to kill me and Bruce that you got sloppy and forgot to check to see if I’d actually died in that alleyway.”
Shit.
Jason set his pistol down on the counter with as loud of a clunk as he could manage. Maybe it was too much. Maybe being so overt would only make Tim even more suspicious, and then Jason’s entire plans for tonight would be ruined. Afterwards, he’d have to convince Tim that no, of course he had no plans to do anything Tim didn’t approve of festering in the back of his mind, why not forget all about that and spend a nice night with Jason, seeing as they were both off-duty at the same time.
Which didn’t sound all that bad, really. It had been some time since Jason and Tim were given such a perfect opportunity to spend quality alone time together like this, where they could just lounge around in one of Jason’s safe houses, away from the prying eyes of the two Wayne menaces, doing whatever they damn well pleased. Perhaps — if Jason decided to not crash in on whatever dumb genius shit Ulysses liked to get ip to on a fine Friday night, courtesy of Roy and Kori’s help in tracking him down because they simply refused to deal with Jason bitching about the injustice Tim faced for another second — Tim would cook a nice homemade dinner for the both of them.
Some months ago, Tim’s cooking skills were apparently one-upped in the most epic way in the form of a full spread of mouth-watering food that Bart had whipped up for the Young Justice and Teen Titans members during one of their semi-annual get togethers. While Tim may not be nearly as dramatic or as petty as any of the other past and present Robin’s, he, too, didn’t like being so thoroughly put in his place, friends or not. So, he started taking cooking lessons with Alfred.
Unfortunately, according to Tim’s tales of woe and terror, Alfred was quite the totalitarian when it came to the kitchen. But, Tim’s cooking did improve, and he loved to get second opinions on his work from Jason in the form of impromptu date nights full of snark, laughter, a few drinks here and there, all topped off with a languid romp in the bed because they just had to get their proper fill of each other after filling their stomachs.
Jason couldn’t decide if he liked those nights the best, or if flying over the Gotham skyline until they watched the sunrise together had them beat. Either way, he always liked being beside Tim.
Either way, he couldn’t afford to let his emotions get the best of him tonight.
He glanced over at Tim. Clearly, Tim was quite taken by the sound of metal hitting the edge of the granite countertop. Good. Jason needed every little inch he could get.
“I knew you would be coming tonight,” Jason said, and it wasn’t even a lie. “I was in such a hurry to get all my guns tuned up and tucked away before you got here that I guess my hand slipped a little on the last lock. I know how much you don’t like to see me working on them.”
Tim frowned, gaze still affixed on the row of handguns laid out. “Is that so? Doesn’t look like you were in much of a hurry to me.”
“Roy wanted to complain a little bit to me earlier today. You know, about how he misses me and Kori, and how annoying Oliver Queen is, and then of course I had to complain about the Big Bats. The time got away from us, with all that bitching and moaning. You know how it is, with the days starting to get shorter and everything. The changing seasons always throws me off.”
Also not a lie. In fact, almost everything Jason said was the truth. The only lie he opted to slip in there was about how time got away from him; for the past three days, he’d actually been watching the clock like a vulture waiting for its next meal to finally die.
Because he was not letting such a golden opportunity slip away from him.
Thankfully, Tim seemed swayed but the mostly truths Jason gave him. “Well, I guess I do know how you and Roy can get when talking about them. I even got to hear all about it, that one time you insisted that the three of us have drinks together.” Tim shook his head ruefully. “Except, you didn’t warn me of how much of a lightweight Roy is.”
“It’s more interesting that way.”
“Whatever you say.” Tim looked back at Jason, shoulders at ease, but his mouth still puckered up into something searching for a different answer. “Anyway, now that you’re done with that and with taking care of your… weapons, I wanted to ask you what the rest of your plans for tonight are.”
Jason wasn’t scheduled for active duty that night. Neither was Tim. They both, for all intents and purposes, had a night off, providing nothing wild and outrageous happened that demanded their assistance.
Which made it the perfect night for them to spend some quality time together. As much as Tim liked to bitch and moan about Jason being too clingy, Jason knew it was all for show. Because, when no one was around for Tim to worry about looking too soft to be Red Robin or Bruce Wayne’s newly adopted son or whatever else he decided to worry his pretty little head over, he often indulged himself in Jason’s affections to the fullest.
Jason usually initiated it. He’d give Tim a peck on the forehead, or run his fingers through Tim’s hair. Tim’s locks were far longer now than when they first started dating, so Jason even got the chance to twirl the ends in his finger these days. And Tim seemed to enjoy it, if the way he liked to sidle up to Jason afterwards with a contented look on his face meant anything.
Of course, Jason liked it too. He liked just about everything when it came to Tim.
Except for when Tim got hurt. When he was left to fall through the sky, scrambling for purchase while Jason could do nothing but watch because he’d been too far away, too stupid to realize that something was amiss and that he should’ve stuck to Tim’s side like a damn parasite, if that’s what it took to keep him safe.
Jason used that memory to steel himself against the glimmer of hopeful anticipation peeking through the whites of Tim’s eyes and convinced himself it was for the best.
“Sorry, I was actually planning to help Kori out a bit today,” Jason lied, as smooth as melted chocolate and as hot as a summer cold. “Apparently, she needs an ‘outsider’s’ input to help with whatever alien business she’s dealing with now, and Roy’s too busy dealing with baby mama drama tonight to go. So, it’s up to me.”
Well, the Roy part wasn’t a lie, at least. That had to count for something, Jason told himself.
Tim blinked once. Then twice. He licked his lips absentmindedly as disappointment flooded the tiny crevices of his face, and Jason wanted so badly to comfort him. He wanted to take it all back and swaddle Tim in his arms so they could spend the night simply enjoying each other’s presence. Jason always wanted that.
But he wanted to punish Ulysses even more.
So, he painted on his best apologetic smirk and offered Tim a small shrug. “I’m sorry, Baby Bird, but I can’t let Kori do this all on her own. Who knows what might happen to this entire galaxy if I don’t help?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Tim sighed. “Even if I can’t really agree with her choice in Earth representatives.”
“Hey, I think I’m a great representative of the planet. I’m like all the good and bad wrapped into one neat, super handsome package.”
Tim smiled at that, eyes and all, and Jason’s heart was soothed. “Can’t argue with that. Alright, go put in a good word for us, or whatever. Just let me know when you’re back. If we’re lucky, we’ll still have time to do something together.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Jason never did call Tim that night.
Which was fine. Expected, even. The Watchtower’s teleportation panels had significantly improved over the past few years, thanks in part to some hefty funding from Bruce alongside Ted Kord and J’onn working together to improve their speed and range, but faster transit time meant little when it came to interspecies politics. Not to mention, having Jason be a part of them didn’t seem like it’d help speed things up.
Honesty and straightforward quips came to Jason as naturally as a moth to a flame. In theory, that would help keep life changing interplanetary talks running smoothly. After all, nothing stalled progress as well as people using careful word choices topped with sidelong glances in a vain attempt to look like they were attempting to find a ‘compromise,’ or whatever they liked to call it. Unfortunately, that was usually what they needed to make things happen in the first place.
So, Tim wasn’t particularly surprised by the silence. A bit disappointed, sure; he’d be lying if he said that working behind the scenes with Barbara was boring, but he definitely missed being out on the field, experiencing the hustle and bustle and ridiculous antics of no-named criminals firsthand. He still had a few weeks of recovery to finish before he could go back, though, so he at least hoped Jason would be around to provide him with some entertainment.
Jason was quite good at that, after all. Usually in all the right ways, especially after realizing that, if he wanted to not only fall asleep but also wake up with Tim by his side, then he needed to cut down on the murdering.
That had been months ago. As such, Tim had grown accustomed to indulging himself in the company of a not-so-bloodthirsty Jason Todd, and, he had to say, he quite enjoyed it.
Then, he read through the report that Barbara reluctantly handed him, and he didn’t know what to think anymore.
Ulysses was in the hospital under intensive care. Two nights ago, he had been dropped off at the hospital with a host of injuries. According to the records, the emergency department staff found evidence of both blunt force and penetrating trauma, located primarily around Ulysses hips, pelvis, and both flanks.
And yet, despite all the damage he’d clearly suffered, he had been fairly stable upon first inspection — almost as if he had already received some rudimentary care before being brought in. Perhaps thanks to the anonymous ‘Good Samaritan’ who’d brought him in in the first place.
As such, he had been cleared for surgery far quicker than originally anticipated. That should’ve been a good thing. The sooner major medical interventions like that could be done on someone who had been recently beaten black and blue, the better the outcome, usually, and it had been clear that Ulysses would need some kind of surgical procedure to fully patch him up; while imaging and scans hadn’t shown anything too remarkable, but, based on the patient’s presentation and symptoms, that much was clear.
Urgent surgery began. Their team had been all ready to go and relatively optimistic when they began. Ulysses was young. Compared to a frail, elderly man who had smoked his entire life without a care in the world when it came to maintaining some semblance of good health, it seemed like Ulysses would come out of the operating room with something to show for it.
Except, they couldn’t do it.
Of course, they had worked hard. They went into it planning for a lumbar laminectomy for suspected spinal stenosis that they couldn’t quite see on imaging. Oh well, they’d probably get a clearer view of the problem area once they made the incision and could see the spinal cord for themselves. Except, despite how terrible his outdoor appearance had been, everything looked as it should on the inside. They had poked and prodded, did this and that, only to find that the results they had expected never came.
So, they ran additional tests. Lots of them. Several panels of bloodwork, along with putting Ulysses through so many different imaging modalities that he’d probably been exposed to more radiation in thirty-six hours than he had over the past ten years. They had to, though, to figure it out. To try to help him.
Through it all, they found that Ulysses’ symptoms were a result of an extremely rare and highly potent neurotoxin that had no reversing agent. No cure.
Ulysses would almost certainly never regain any function or sensation of his lower limbs, the report read, unless some medical marvel popped up in the next few days. Social services and physical therapy consult to follow, for all good that would do.
Tim’s mind reeled. The room spun around him, and the red of Barbara’s hair turned into long streaks of wildfire in the sky. Hastily, he sat down, only narrowly missing the floor instead of the age of his chair.
“Babs,” Tim breathed. He didn’t know what else to say.
“It’s not your fault,” Barbara whispered.
It didn’t help.
“I need to — I need to talk to Jason.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you should give it a few days. You know, to get your bearings together.”
Tim shook his head. A mistake. It only scrambled his thoughts up even more. “No. I have to do it soon. Now. Will you help me get into contact with him?”
Barbara gave him a sad look, brows furrowed. Clearly, she didn’t like the idea. But, she didn’t argue with him, and Tim appreciated that more than she’d probably ever know. “Of course. I’ll get right on that. You just rest for now.”
This time, Tim did as she suggested and tried his very best to dispel the image of Ulysses laying in a pool of blood reflected off a gleaming red hood from the back of his eyes.
It didn’t take very long to reach Jason. In fact, it was almost as if Jason wanted to be found. Within a few hours, he returned to Gotham — no fuss, no muss, and he even told Tim which safe house he would be staying at without prompting.
As usual, it was one of his nicer ones. Actually, it might have been the best of all of them. It was only a few square feet and street corners away from being considered a luxury penthouse, and it had one of the perfect views beyond its massive floor to ceiling windows to fire off a sniper rifle for several blocks, if necessary.
Tim found Jason sitting on the couch when he arrived. He looked so terribly handsome there, with tiny rays of moonlight highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and those warm blues of his eyes, and, for a moment, Tim wanted so badly to forget about everything and just let himself enjoy it all. Because, as much as he missed donning his Red Robin costume and feeling the chill of Gotham’s air whipping past him, he had missed Jason even more.
But he couldn’t. He had morals to uphold. A Robin was nothing without morals.
“Jason,” he began, voice barely above a whisper. Yet, within the silence of the room, it sounded painfully loud. “You promised me.”
“And I didn’t go after him. He came to me,” Jason said coolly.
“And why would he do something like that?”
“Not my fault the guy can’t mind his own damn business and insists on sticking as many fingers as he can into all the pies he finds,” Jason hisses. “Kid wanted a challenge. I gave it to him, and he lost. So, really, who could blame me? If he knew his place, then maybe he’d be safe and sound in bed right now.”
“Jason, they say he’ll never walk again,” Tim breathed.
The disinterested look on Jason’s face never faltered. “And am I supposed to feel bad about that?”
“I thought maybe you’d at least feel a little bad for doing something like this when you knew full well that I didn’t want you to.”
Jason’s sigh felt like it shook the walls around them. “Of course I don’t like making you upset. You know that. But what else was I supposed to do?”
“Maybe listen to me and just let it go instead of going on some kinda revenge spree!”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t, even if you asked me all sweet with those puppy dog eyes of yours?” Jason bit back, all teeth and no smile. “You know what kinda person I am, Tim! You know what’s happened to me. I may be perfectly nice to you, but you know I can’t be like that for everyone.”
“You could have at least fucking tried!” Tim exclaimed.
“Tried what? To pretend to be the good little Robin that you used to follow around with that old camera of yours? Newsflash, Timmy, I had never been the same as you, or Dick, or, hell, even Damian!” Jason roared in return. Tim could see green in those pretty eyes of his now. Objectively, it was a gorgeous sight; the luminous green blended together wondrously with the natural blues Jason held, but Tim couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of it.
Jason must’ve taken that as a sign of disgust. He continued on, even louder this time. Perhaps he chose this safehouse for the sound-proofing. “Oh, don’t give me that look! Just because I don’t fit your picture perfect image of Robin doesn’t mean I didn’t deserve it, or that I’m automatically in the wrong. And, to be honest, sometimes I think that maybe you’re the one who was never meant to be a Robin.”
“Fuck you!” Tim snarled. Damn the green and the blues and whatever else because to hear that from Jason was too much.
So, so much.
He began to take a step forward to emphasize his point — because nothing made an argument all the more persuasive than getting in someone’s face about it, the stupid asshole part of his brain reasoned — but the even stupider part forgot that his leg was still nowhere near tip top shape.
He put too much force on the landing of his left food. It was meant to be impressive, the stomping and the quick strides to meet Jason where he sat. Sadly, it backfired in an instant as rivulets of pain and aching contractions shot up his leg, settling into the still red and raw scar on his thigh.
Immediately, Jason leapt up from the couch and bounded over to where Tim stood. But it all happened so fast that he wasn’t able to make it in time to stop Tim from stumbling to his knees after failing to find any purchase to latch onto.
And the embarrassment of the fall might’ve been worse than anything else Tim had experienced from this whole situation which Jason both alleviated and worsened when he kneeled down beside him to assess for any damage.
“Look at you, Tim,” Jason whispered. “Look what he did to you. How he hurt you. How could I not do something about it?”
“I’ll recover. I’ll get better. Ulysses won’t.”
“I think that’s exactly what he needs to learn his lesson.”
“Jason, you can’t just go around… deciding people’s fates like that.”
“But Batman can?”
Jason’s voice sounded softer now. A little sadder, and much more resigned. Or maybe it was resolute. Tim couldn’t tell anymore. He could probably get a better idea of what thoughts were racing through Jason’s head if he saw the expression on Jason’s face, but Tim refused to lift his gaze up from the floor.
He was afraid of what he might find if he did. In Jason and himself.
He heard another sigh escape Jason’s lips, but this time it was a gentle little thing. “Come on, let’s at least get you to the bedroom. If there’s one thing we can agree on right now, I’m sure it’s the fact that neither of us want to slow down your recovery by letting you just kneel on a hardwood floor all night long.”
That made sense. Tim could get on board with that. And he really wanted to because, all of a sudden, he felt exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lay down and not think about Ulysses or the pins and needles coursing through his leg anymore.
Without a single word, Jason gingerly wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist before hauling him upwards. As soon as he felt himself lift off the ground, Tim nuzzled his face into the crook of Jason’s neck and didn’t look away until his back sank into a plush bed.
“I’m still angry at you,” Tim said quietly. “I’m so angry and upset I can barely breathe.”
“I know.”
“I thought… I thought we were past all that. All the stuff about Robin’s and Pretender’s.”
“We are. I’m sorry.”
“But you still said it, and, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you after all these years, it’s that you never say anything you don’t mean,” Tim said. “So tell me. What did you mean when you said that?”
It took some time for Jason to respond. For a few moments, all he did was stare off into the far corner in absolute silence, only moving to run his fingers absentmindedly through Tim’s hair. Briefly, Tim considered pulling his head away, away from Jason’s touch. He figured it was the least he deserved.
Then, he decided that he didn’t really want to.
So, he stayed, and he waited.
“You’re a great Robin,” Jason finally said. “Probably the best of us all. You’re smart and crafty, and you actually make plans to get things done. I just think Gotham’s not the place for you to be Robin in.”
“And what does that mean?”
“You’re too nice. You like to go around picking up wandering vigilantes and sad criminals like they’re lost pets on the street, and you nurse them back to health and watch them go on with the rest of their nice, happy lives with a smile on your face. Part of it’s Bruce’s fault, I’m sure. He probably saw what happened to me and decided to try to make you the complete opposite, but I think some of it’s just you, too. I mean, out of all of us, you didn’t need to be Robin. Gotham didn’t chew you up and spit you back out at Bruce’s feet, all primed and ready to be his Boy Wonder. You walked straight into it yourself, even though you had no idea what you were getting into or the way this city — these people — were going to tear you apart.”
“It’s not like I haven’t lived in Gotham my whole life. You can see a lot of things from a bedroom window, even in a quaint, middle class neighborhood. Besides, I’ve had my fair share of family tragedies,” Tim murmured.
“Yeah, but still. It’s not the same.”
“You mean I’m not the same as you,” Tim corrected.
Jason chuckled, but it didn’t sound remotely amused. “I guess that is it. You’re not like me, and I’m not like you. I don’t think I ever will be.” He paused and held Tim’s gaze. “Can you be ok with that?”
“I’m going to have to be, won’t I? Or else I’ll lose you,” Tim answered, surprising even himself with the speed of his response. He felt as if his mouth, and his vocal cords, and the flick of his tongue and purse of his lips all moved at lightning speed compared to his mind. Though, when his thoughts finally did catch up, he found no reason to change his response.
Because, God, did he love Jason.
Jason planted a light kiss between Tim’s brows. “I really am sorry, you know. For making you upset, but I’m not sorry for what I did.”
This time came Tim’s turn to respond with an, “I know,” followed up by a, “And you can be damn sure that we’ll talk more about this later. But for now, I think I just want to relax. With you. Enjoy our reunion before we start our real argument tomorrow.”
He promptly flattened himself against Jason’s side. In turn, Jason promptly pulled him in even closer. With his injury, Tim found that most positions left him either aching or so hyper-focused on not making it worse that he struggled to allow himself enough peace and comfort to truly enjoy the moment.
Thankfully, spooning was always a wonderful option.
Tim made quick work of his shirt while Jason carefully undid his pants and slid them off, boxers and all. The sudden chill from being so thoroughly exposed left him shivering and swathed with an impromptu coat of gooseflesh, but Jason quickly remedied that with the press of his body heat against Tim’s.
They kissed for some time. Savored the unspoken moment as they let their tongues mingle and hands roam. When Tim first saw Jason naked, he expected there to be some scars and whatnot on him. After all, it was impossible for them to avoid having any leftover reminders from fights gone poorly, or mistakes that had been made.
Except, Jason had far more than Tim ever anticipated.
He probably had a few more now, after his scuffle with Ulysses; Ulysses may not be the best at physical combat, and Jason had lightyears more prowess and power, but Tim doubted he went down without some kinda struggle. If he looked hard enough, finding the freshest marks scattered over the expanse of Jason’s skin wouldn’t take too long.
Tim didn’t look.
Instead, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back with a moan when Jason wrapped a callused hand around his dick. Without a lick of hesitation, Jason began pressing wet kisses up the expanse of his neck, and, in that moment, it was easy for Tim to pretend that all was right in the world.
After months and months of experience, Jason knew exactly how to touch him to turn him into a whimpering mess, if he so desired. Sometimes, he liked to keep Tim awake and alert. Made it easier for them to get rough and rumble that way.
Apparently, Jason wanted the former tonight. Tim held no qualms against it. Who didn’t enjoy being spoiled every now and then?
Jason stroked him long and slow, scraping the rough pad of his hands against Tim’s cock just the way Tim liked. Nipped at his jaw and lapped at his collarbones just the way Tim liked. He radiated heat, the likes of which Tim couldn’t remember being able to bask in with any other partner, and the subtle hint of weight — all muscle and an absolute treat to admire up close like this — sent rivulets of desire melting down every single one of Tim’s senses.
Honestly, he loved fucking Jason almost as much he loved the man himself.
As a token of his appreciation, Tim threaded his fingers and pulled on Jason’s hair, just the way Jason liked.
“I have to admit, I do enjoy when we go nice and slow,” Tim said, voice breathy and hardly more than a wanton whisper, “but I’m a little worn out from all the worrying and yelling you’ve made me do for the past few hours. If you don’t hurry it up a bit, I might end up falling asleep before you even get inside of me.”
And that was that.
With a playful growl, Jason pulled away from him in order to rummage through his bedside drawer. No way in hell could Tim have stopped the bereft whimper that escaped his mouth at the loss, but Jason came back in a flash, and Tim let himself revel in his return.
Slowly, Jason inserted a single lubed finger. Tim signaled for more with a light brush of the back of his hand against Jason’s chin, and then he felt another. Next came the stretch, and the feeling of Jason searching for the spots he knew Tim liked the most. With all his expertise, finding them came quickly to him, as did a third finger, and soon enough, Tim heard himself mewling and pushing himself back against Jason for more.
“Easy there, it’s been awhile since we last had sex. Don’t want to accidentally hurt you by rushing,” Jason murmured.
“You really think I did nothing and just waited around for you this whole time?” Tim teased.
“Is that so? Well, next time maybe you should film it for me. You know, so I can see some proof and be sure,” Jason teased back.
“I’ll think about it. If you’re good, that is.”
Evidently, that was all the reassurance Jason needed. After a brief interlude of emptiness, Tim felt the warm pressure of the head of Jason’s cock flush against his opening, along with the heat and weight of Jason’s chest against his back. Then, there it was, and Tim keened with delighted relief at the sensation of being filled up so good.
“You like that?” Jason asked cheekily.
As if he really needed an answer.
Still, Tim played along. His reply came in the form of pushing his hips back hard until Jason was fully seated inside him, to Jason’s amusement.
They went slow after that, though. Making too many sudden movements did Tim no good, in his current condition, and Jason seemed perfectly content to roll his hips nice and easy. At least he did so well; it was a treat to feel the leisurely slide of Jason’s dick inside him, the way it stretched Tim open deliciously wide, full of fire and want. Not to mention, Jason kept a sturdy grip on Tim’s cock the whole time, stroking it in time with his thrusts as he kissed Tim’s nape in-between whispered sweet-nothings.
Tim struggled to fully understand them all. Anyone would, he thought, when they had someone as gorgeous as Jason making them feel so good. He caught a few fragments of them here and there, however, when he tried to hone in on them.
So lovely…
My baby bird…
You’re too good…
Don’t know how I even got here, how you’ve let me do this for so long…
But I’ll be damned if I ever let this go.
Suddenly, Tim couldn’t listen anymore. He didn’t have the strength to, the concentration, the ability to keep himself grounded and focused long enough to comprehend something as complex as words. His orgasm came over him in waves, each stronger than the last, and it took all of his strength to simply breathe through it and not faint from the force of it.
Because it’d be such a shame to pass out before Jason got the chance to come.
Fortunately, Jason came a few thrusts later, pulsing hot and fierce as he groaned and tightened his hold on Tim’s waist before coaxing Tim’s head to the side for a languid, satisfied kiss.
The green in his eyes had disappeared, Tim noticed absentmindedly.
Afterwards, they laid together for some time, lounging in the quiet dark, with their limbs intertwined and steady breaths synced. Moments like this with Jason were some of Tim’s favorites.
Which meant they rarely lasted long.
For now, however, he was determined to stretch it out for as long as possible. In the morning, after some breakfast and getting themselves tidied up enough to masquerade as presentable human beings, they’d have another talk. They’d probably yell at each other again over this or that. Jason would undoubtedly throw a nuclear fit upon learning that Tim planned on paying for Ulysses’ medical expenses, in addition to scouring the planet for the best healthcare providers he could find.
But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, they deserved to rest.