Chapter Text
Tim had done a risk assessment and calculated the worst conceivable outcome that could smack him in the face or grab him by the throat if his plans went dangerously sour—determined the risk to be smaller than miniscule and started to gleefully bullet journal the details.
Jason wasn’t the biggest fan of Tim, but that was a given. Not too many people were. Tim was a lot to deal with. He was too needy and not needy enough, too independent, and not independent enough. Tim had yet to get to that good in-between, the not too much and the not too little that would endear him more to more people. But he was getting better! And he had true friends he knew he could always rely on and trust with his back, Kon and Bart not needing an in-between Tim, the trio always having each other’s sixes. No question.
With his best friends back from the dead, B back from the void, and things not resolved but more settled at Wayne manor, Tim was left feeling that maybe this good trajectory of good happenings would keep on being good good good.
So it was time now—time to make brothers with Jason.
Jason hadn’t tried to hurt Tim since the tower, eight months ago, and four months ago he offered a gruff, don’t look at me while I’m confessing, sorry that went much further than Tim ever dreamed of once Jason finally looked him in the eye and kept on talking—Jason not excusing his assault and owning up to his viciousness—explaining how he carried every ounce of the betrayal and hatred he felt towards B into every kick and hit and slice them up knife strike against Tim.
Tim had done nothing to deserve that attack and Jason would never attack him again.
Tim had been so stunned he couldn’t speak, not after the confession and not during their trip out for ridiculously expensive ice cream where Jason kept an owl’s watch on Tim, caution but sincere in his regret and his shame. And with cake batter and French vanilla ice cream on his tongue and nestled in his cheeks, Tim opened his mouth and forgave Jason—his first words after Jason’s rooftop confession.
His forgiveness was so simple but so freeing and they finished their ice cream, Tim’s cake and vanilla and Jason’s mint and brownie—not in complete silence, but in half silences. Thoughtful silences. Safe silences.
In the end and standing outside of the ice cream shop, two former Robins now at a greater peace with each other, Jason gave Tim a finalized nod, promised not to bother him anymore but said, “If I see you around, see you,” and waited for Tim to turn around and walk away first before he took his leave in the other direction.
It was clear that Jason didn’t want any more from that. Not from him, not from the bats. Occasional team-ups and assists were on the ok for now list, but that was it. That was not going to be just it anymore, however.
Hopefully. Definitely. Most definitely.
Jason didn’t hate Tim anymore. And if he didn’t hate him anymore, Tim could get him to love him. To be brothers. To be a Robin club together. To be friends. By his own carefully determined calculations, Tim could achieve this goal in ninety days or less once he got the ball rolling. Day one started tomorrow morning with a surprise breakfast donut and an invitation to go watch the birds. Jason like donuts and Tim liked birds. It was a win-win! But to get to that win, Tim had to sleep first. So to sleep he went, in a nervous but giddy rush.
Tim came barreling out of his bedroom like he had overslept and missed the bus. That didn’t happen of course. He didn’t go to school anymore and even when he did, he never took the bus. But he was still running around Wayne manor like he had forgotten something and only remembered it last minute. In truth, Tim was just too excited and running on adrenaline and a solid eight hours of sleep to slow down.
He set his alarm earlier than should be legal and sprung out of bed faster than the Flash, got in the bathroom to shower and brush way the night guck in his mouth. Got dressed before breakfast to keep the day going forward and not backwards, and skidded into the kitchen where, Alfred, Bruce, and Damian were already awake and dressed—Bruce reading the paper while sipping at a cup of coffee, Damian aggressively sketching something in his sketchbook—Alfred cooking something that smelled like eggs.
“Morning! You guys are up early!” Tim went to the Keurig coffee maker for his first cup of French vanilla. He inserted the K-cup, listened happily to the coffee brewing quickly and oh so majestically, got his favorite mug, poured in that sweet coffee almost to the brim, and was sitting at the table before he realized everyone was staring at him and that no one wished him a good morning in return.
“What?” he asked, frowning.
“You’re up early, chum. You feeling alright?” Bruce asked over his cup of steaming coffee.
Before Tim could answer, Alfred was stepping away from the stove and laying a warm hand on Tim’s forehead. Tim blinked, his lips hovering over the edge of his mug.
“Fever, Al?”
Alfred moved the back of his palm over Tim’s forehead like he was splotching him with blush. Tim blinked again.
“No, Master Wayne. He feels quite normal to me.”
“Why do you think I’m sick?” Tim asked once Alfred dropped his hand.
“Good morning, Master Timothy. An omelet for you too?” Alfred asked with a fond twinkle in his eyes.
“Please,” Tim said, smiling into the butler’s face before Alfred moved back to the stove. Feeling two pairs of questioning father-son eyes on him, Tim did the smart thing and cast his gaze over to the father of the house.
Bruce put his mug down on the table once they made eye contact and arched a careful eyebrow, folding his newspaper as he looked at Tim with an inscrutable look on his face. “Do you know what time it is?” he finally asked.
He did. Tim did in fact know how to tell time. “It’s 7:15,” he answered correctly.
“Exactly,” Bruce said slowly. Alfred had stepped away from the stove to get plates and Damian was openly staring at Tim in undisguised suspicion, his little face scrunched up in his morning scowl.
Tim turned a frown to him too. “What did I do?” He and Damian were not friends and Tim doubted they ever would be. But they had come to an unspoken understanding and mostly stayed out of each other’s way. The taunts from Damian were at a bare minimum now, and they could be in the same room without the risk of trouble. They still weren’t friends, but Tim couldn’t call them enemies or even frenemies. They just were, and while Damian would probably forever be annoyed with anything Tim did, Tim didn’t get it this time.
“What is the cause of this abnormal behavior, Drake?” Damian held his Faber-Castel pencil in his hand, his upper body hovering over his sketchbook like he was trying to shield his work. “How and why are you awake?” he demanded.
Tim gasped. “I can get up in the morning!”
“Be careful with your coffee. It’s hot,” Bruce warned but Tim wasn’t looking at him.
“I have some things I plan on doing a little early today. That’s all,” Tim said to Damian at the same time he followed Bruce’s advice, setting his mug down on the table so his risk of spilling hot coffee all over himself, and delaying his trip to Jason’s, went down to a zero percent possibility.
“What are you doing and with who?” Damian persisted, looking weirdly invested in Tim’s answer, his eyes demanding an answer.
Tim scoffed. “You’re not my father and—”
“Father, get him to answer. This suspicious activity requires further inquiry.”
“Hey!”
“Not that I’m fully agreeing with him, but you don’t have work today and you’re awake. Wide awake and verbal,” Bruce voiced from the other end of the table.
Tim turned to him, betrayed. “I can speak in the morning!”
“Wide awake and verbal,” Bruce continued, not backing down, “before you even finished your first cup of coffee.”
“I can function without coffee!”
Damian tsked and a teasing smirk lifted the corner of Bruce’s lip by a half an inch, there and then gone but there while it was. “Never said you couldn’t, chum.”
But you’re thinking it, Tim thought, indignant, but he really was too excited and happy for the day to let his annoyance fester. And he loved it when serious Bruce became teasing Bruce, the slow, sarcastic smirks, the deadpan drawls, the banter that on the surface sounded serious but was really Bruce being a sneaky shit.
Things between Tim and Bruce were much better as well with more communication on both sides and more trips on Tim’s end back to the manner—started surprisingly by Bruce proposing sleepover after sleepover until Tim finally agreed and found himself agreeing to keep coming back. Because it was not like it was before with Damian’s threats and Dick’s silence.
Because Tim could relax and enjoy himself with his favorite family butler and grandfather and with his mentor and sometimes (if he were having brave thoughts) father figure.
Bruce so much more attentive, even those leagues ago when he couldn’t stand sight or sound of Tim—so much more attentive now with his time and attention than his dad had been though Tim still loved his dad and mourned what could have been between them—their third chance taken from them by a violent criminal. Though now in today’s light, not forgetting or unloving his dad but looking at their relationship in a new and clearer light, Tim could admit to himself that that chance might never have been even if his dad continued to live his life.
Tim was a lot to deal with, but he wasn’t as bad as his parents believed. That Tim knew to be true now.
“So,” Damian cut in, looking back and forth between Bruce and Tim, waiting for an explanation he wasn’t going to get for anything. “Explain.”
“Your omelet, Master Timothy?” Alfred said, placing Tim’s breakfast in front of him.
Tim thanked him and reveled in Alfred’s signature eyewink of approval.
“And you, Master Damian,” Tim heard Alfred muttering once he stepped away, but he wasn’t listening again. He was shoveling food in his mouth and draining heavenly coffee at the same time, eager to fill up on those calories to keep his energy up for what would be a really good day.
Look out, Jason. Here Tim comes.
I’m off! Tim texted in the group chat once he was buckled into the front seat of one of Bruce’s Audis, the one with the disabled tracking device that was never repaired and probably never would be again. He was a little out of breath. What he had just done was a little more than a little stupid. He hugged Damian. To distract him during Tim’s escape—after Damian would not stop pestering him—Tim hugged Damian and wished him a good day.
At first, to catch him off guard, Tim tried questioning Damian about his classes for the day, and when that only went so far, his arms reached out against his will in want of a diverting hug. But it had worked! Damian froze like a winter deer and didn’t try to kill him!
Still, Tim ran for his life and dove into this Audi, ready to get to Jason and get away from the brat least he come looking for revenge.
rob your crazy! Kon instantly replied and a second of a second after him, Bart added,
DONT DIE!!!
Nonsense! Tim texted back. Jason doesn’t hate me anymore and it’s all planned out!
Kon wasn’t having it. crazy rob. you’re out of this world crazy bonkers!!!!
You mean crazy smart??
Nah cray crazie!!!!
WE CAN’T LIVE W/O YOU TIMMY!! DON’T LET THE RED HOOD KILL U!!!!!
I’m going to live guys! TTYL!
spoiler alert, i’ll be listening out for your heartbeat. stay safe and alive!
Will do!
BYE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And then Tim was off, backing out of the driveway and peeling (safely) away and on route to Carol’s Donuts for chocolate frosted donuts with Oreo sprinkles. He was chipper in the drive thru and another degree happier after ordering another cup of coffee. He was careful with the donuts, keeping them perched on the passenger’s seat and protected with the seatbelt restraint.
It felt like it took forever and a second getting to Jason’s secret apartment, but by the time he was parked, (maybe illegally) in the parking lot and treading his way to the third floor of the OakTill Apartment Complex, Tim felt himself deflating with nerves and excitement. His stomach was existing outside of his stomach. It didn’t feel good at all, but it was only temporary.
Once he was at apartment 307, he didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t falter. Tim knocked three times, solid, loud, but not too loud. And he didn’t have to wait long. He didn’t hear Jason’s footsteps approaching the door because Jason was a former bat, and bats didn’t make sound on the ground. But Tim did hear, feel, and see the door opening a crack and then all the way, revealing a Jason Todd, barefoot and with bedhead—looking at Tim like he was staring down a door-to-door salesman who was threatening his grandmother at gunpoint.
“Hi, Jason,” Tim blurted out. “I mean, good morning! Good morning!”
Jason leaned against the arch of the door, his face smoothing out of that murderous frown and changing into a frown of confusion. “Tim?” he said like he was trying to verify that it really was Tim standing in front of him and not some doppelganger.
“Yup,” Tim said, smacking his lips around the p. “How’s it going? It’s not too early, is it?” Jason wasn’t a night owl like Tim. Tim knew that he got up early with the sun and that his visit shouldn’t be infringing on Jason’s sleep time, but it didn’t hurt to verify.
Jason blinked. “How do you know this address?” he asked, not answering Tim’s question. “Hold up,” he said, raising a hand, “don’t answer that. I know how.”
“I don’t know if Oracle knows, but I haven’t told anyone else. I swear,” Tim promised.
Jason looked at him critically but nodded like he believed Tim.
Tim then raised the box of donuts in his hands like an offering. “I-I thought we could have some breakfast together.”
Jason blinked again and cocked his head. And then he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, lowered them to Tim, and was glaring up a storm. “I see what this is. Tell the Dickhead no means no. Fuck off!” he swore and then slammed the door in Tim’s face.
Tim knocked again three times, loud enough to overwhelm the banging in his chest. He was a lot to deal with, but not like this. This wasn’t it. Here he wouldn’t be too much to deal with, just persistent, and if Jason really wanted him gone, he would respect that…
Jason reopened the door with a growl. “No!”
…but persistence first! Before Jason could close the door again, Tim threw out a, “I’m not here because of Dick!” in one breath—a breath he held onto until Jason fully opened the door again and stood staring and suspicious, impatiently waiting for Tim to clarify.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you and Dick, but I just wanted to hang out with you. Look, donuts,” he repeated in a rush, holding up the box, this time like it was a worthy sacrifice they could both feast on together.
“Hang out? With me?” Jason’s hulking posture relaxed but his face was sculpted into a mask of annoyed and skeptical disbelief.
Tim smiled. “Yes, with you!”
Jason’s frown was impressive with how mean and candy sour it looked. “Why the hell would you want to do that? Go see the Dickhead if you want to hang out with someone. That someone ain’t me.”
“I don’t want him. I want to hang out with you,” Tim answered simply.
Jason blinked again, a slow, thoughtful flutter of his eyelashes. He looked like he was considering the offer and Tim felt himself tensing in wait. He had bullet journaled this. He bought Jason’s favorite donuts. He came at an appropriate time. He couldn’t fail.
“No,” Jason said and slammed the door in his face again.
“I got the chocolate frosted donuts with the Oreos!” Tim shouted, persistence, and maybe, just maybe, he sounded way too loud for an inside voice in the morning. But so had Jason. Slamming doors, in fact, was more of a disturbance in comparison for the neighbors, so Tim couldn’t be the sole source of blame if there was a noise complaint.
Jason flung the door open again. His face was Batman blank, but his eyes were hungry. “The Oreo sprinkles, right?”
Tim beamed.
“Listen, kid. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m putting a stop to this right now.”
Tim passed him another donut and Jason happily accepted. They were sitting on his comfy loveseat with the tv playing in the background. Jason’s apartment was quint and had authentic vintage vibe that made the place feel like a bedroom book lair. Tim could fall asleep.
“I’m glad you feel comfortable searching me out and all that,” Jason was saying around a mouthful of chocolatey goodness. Tim didn’t even like chocolate and was possibly borderline allergic, but Carol’s Donuts were amazing. Even for him.
“But I’m not the social type. I’m a loner now and damn fucking proud of it. If you want companionship, Dick is your man.”
“Having another person around doesn’t make a loner not a loner. You can still lone,” Tim said.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Tim blushed around the nonsense he just spewed. This was ok. He expected some pushback because Jason wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a loner with other people, but he was with the bats—Jason always on the outskirts by choice—and Tim knew they weren’t just going to become brothers overnight. It would take work.
Tim looked down at the half-eaten donut in his hand. Part one of step one was a success, but still… He couldn’t stop his body from steaming in embarrassment, the proof in his cheeks.
Jason grinned over cheekily at Tim’s embarrassment, but he couldn’t help moaning around the chocolate in his mouth. “So good! Goddam. How many more do we got?”
Tim passed him another donut.
“Thanks buddy,” Jason chirped, and Tim swelled in happiness before he remembered the next part of today’s schedule. He jumped from the couch and went to Jason’s window, pulling open a shade.
“No lights!” Jason shouted.
But Tim pretended not to hear him. He was scanning around and once he found what he was looking for (kind of) he pointed with his finger and cried, “look!”
Jason flew to his side and would have knocked Tim over if not for having the wherewithal to hold onto Tim’s shoulder, keeping him on his feet.
“What’s out there?” Jason demanded, instantly on alert, his hand planted around Tim’s shoulder like he was preparing to yeet him backwards if there was a threat lurking outside the window.
Tim felt bad for frightening Jason, but now that he was on his feet, it made the next part of his proposed schedule feel like it was on the third base to success.
“It’s ok! It’s just house sparrows. See on that tree over there? Why don’t we go watch some of the birds over in city park while we finish off these donuts?”
Jason looked down at him from his unfairly enormous height, chocolate smudges smeared at the corners of his lips.
Tim looked up at him, smiling. “Well?”
Jason frowned. Tim smiled. They were at an impasse and then they were not.
On the way to the park, Tim was still smiling.
Bird watching at the park didn’t last as long as Tim would have liked but that was fine! He got Jason to go with him. That was great progress! And sure, Jason said this was it—the end was the end. They could help each other out in a crisis emergency and Tim wasn’t nearly as bad as Dick, but that was their last day participating in the Robin club as Jason wasn’t good to be around.
Tim didn’t say he agreed verbally so technically he wasn’t lying when he nodded like he was in agreement with Jason. He could have just been nodding along to a song.
Back in the car with his phone in his lap, Tim sent a simple text in the group text, a joyous smile stretching his face almost to the point of no return.
Still alive. Day 1 a success!
TIMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
thank hell but your still crazy rob! cut your losses now and get out of there!
I’m out! We’re done for the day!
i meant out there forever! dont go back!!!
I’m going back!
DAY 2z STIL ON?????????????
Yes!!!!!!!! :p
And it was. After he returned to the Wayne manor, Damian in school, Bruce at Wayne Enterprises and Alfred down for a game of checkers, Tim was already preparing for day two.
“Drake, you’re smiling,” Damian snippily observed from his spot perched on the blue recliner chair in the main study. It was late evening and Damian was sketching again but less aggressively with Alfred the cat resting on one of the arms of the recliner. Tim had entered the study to pick up a book and ran into Damian and the cat, their twin and immediate reactions seeing them staring him down.
Tim held up the book he sought with a proud smile. “I’m excited to read this book.”
Alfred the cat meowed, and Damian shushed him gently. “What book are you reading?” he voiced, adopting a look of indifference and a tone of cool apathy, like he was wasting his time asking a question he shouldn’t have to ask in the first place.
Tim looked down at the cover. “Pride and Prejudice.” Jason’s favorite book and day two in his journal. Read Jason’s favorites and get him to discuss them with him. Discussions would probably run for an hour or two. That’s how it usually was with the literature type he assumed.
Damian’s scoff drew Tim’s head up. Damian was uninterested in a fiction book and had no qualm dismissing it straight in Tim’s face. He tsked and shook his head in mute disgust. “And how was your secret outing that contributed to your suspicious behavior this very morning?”
“Great!” Tim said, unintimidated. “It’s always fun talking to Kon and Bart.” See, that wasn’t a lie, so Tim wasn’t lying. He really did talk to Kon and Bart while he was out of Wayne Manor.
Damian squinted, always the suspicious tyke, and Tim wasn’t about to let him ruin his vibe. He pet Alfred the cat to Damian’s displeasure and ruffled Damian’s head to Damian’s outrage.
“Drake!” Damian was yelling but Tim was already out of the study and running into Bruce on his way up the stairs.
“Careful!” Bruce called, steadying Tim even though Tim wasn’t at the risk of falling. “You going to bed, Chum?”
“Yeah. I’m going to read a little and then call it a night,” Tim said.
“You’re reading for work?” Bruce questioned lightly, but the thing was, Tim knew Bruce. Bruce was probing. Bruce was being nosy.
“Nope,” Tim said and meant to leave it at that. But Bruce was a detective and quick-eyed and didn’t miss anything. So he didn’t miss Pride and Prejudice and what that meant and what Tim’s excitement at the table must mean.
“He talked to you?” Bruce asked, his voice more subdued while his eyes were curious embers.
“Yup,” Tim said proudly though his stomach quivered, fearful that Bruce was going to push—push Tim to gather intel on Jason—push Tim to push Jason to come home—beg Tim without begging to try and foster some sort of meeting between Bat dad and Bat son number 2. And probably with Bat son the 1 as Jason seemed more unwilling to see Dick than he did Bruce. Strange. But Tim’s fears were quickly subdued. Instead of pleading and questioning or demanding, instead of prying or walking away stone cold, Bruce just smiled affectionately, that quick upwards movement, and ruffled Tim’s head.
“Be careful Chum. We learn from our mistakes, but he won’t forget it. Not with this,” he said, gesturing to the book in Tim’s hand.
Tim leaned into Bruce’s head, beaming. He was ready.
I’m going to drop by around 8. Hope that’s ok. I got the donuts again!
… Tim?
Affirmative :p
How did you get my private number!!!!
See you soon!
“No!” Jason said immediately after opening the door.
“I read it!” Tim cried happily, raising the box of donuts in one hand and the classic literature book in the other.
“The hell!” Jason shouted when Tim accidently let himself into the apartment.
“I read it, Jason!” This was actually a feat for him. Tim wasn’t the strongest reader, not by motivation or attention span. He was better at watching fiction play out on the screen than he was reading it across a span of hundreds of pages. But he finished this book and he felt damn proud of it—proud even though he found it lacking in more ways than one.
“Again, what the hell, replacement!” Jason said, but his voice was more hushed, and his frown wasn’t that murder frown from the morning before. His eyes were watching the box of donuts in Tim’s hands like he was being mesmerized, and he hadn’t noticed the book yet.
Tim faltered for a second at hearing Jason call him by that name again, but Jason hadn’t sounded bitter or hateful, the word spilling from his mouth in a way that didn’t scratch at Tim’s ears. Tim perked up again, determined for success number 2. “I came prepared. I’m looking forward to this discussion.” He felt really prepared now. He was ready.
“You look like a demon, like more than the demon does!” Jason stated and stepped up to Tim’s face, grabbing his face, and tilting it side to side in his inspection, humming unhappily under his breath.
Tim didn’t get it. “I’m not sick,” he grumbled, squirming. Damian had made a comment on his eyes over breakfast, but Tim just told him it was the trick of the light. Because it was. In the bathroom when Tim was getting ready and he noticed a little bit of redness in his eyes, he reasoned it was just a trick of that overhead lighting.
Jason snorted, unimpressed. “Your eyes are on fire dude.”
“You overexaggerate.” Yes, Tim spent the entirety of the night reading the novel. That hadn’t initially been his plan. He first thought of reading a few chapters at a time beginning the night before the discussion—to have his thoughts at their freshest. Then he would provide his feedback to Jason, which would hopefully in turn facilitate a lengthy discussion. He would stick to that steady pace of a few chapters a week—spreading it out before moving onto the next book.
But once he started reading last night, Tim couldn’t stop—not stopping because he found the text too irresistible to put down, but not stopping because there was so much in there that he didn’t like and couldn’t wait to debate!
“I’m not exaggerating! Here, sit!” Jason led Tim over to the comfy couch and sat him down, hurrying off and away and returning with a damp hand towel.
“Put this against your eyes.”
“I’m really not sick,” Tim said but followed Jason’s advice, dropping the donuts on one side of him and the book on the other, taking the wet towel out of Jason’s hands. “Jason, you’re not listening to me,” Tim said once he obstructed his vision.
Jason spluttered beside him as he raided the box for donuts. “Me? It’s you who’s not listening!”
“I started and finished the book last night.”
“Book? Which book?”
“Pride and Prejudice,” Tim replied, unable to hide the enthusiasm peppering his voice.
Silence.
Tim pulled the wet towel away from his face. Jason was looking at him blankly.
“Pride and Prejudice?” he questioned.
Tim’s heart was racing. “Yes!”
Jason’s eyes went darker, a midnight black overtaking his green. “In one night?”
Tim smiled despite the black. “Yup!”
Jason sighed and deflated, all worn tire like, and shook his head, angry disappointed. He stuffed a donut in his mouth and started chewing as he glared at Tim. “SparkNotes don’t count, genius.”
“I read it!” Tim defended himself. “The average reading time for this book is a little over six hours and while it took me around seven and a half I still finished! Despite its flaws, I read it all and finished it.”
Jason stilled, went dangerously still. Then he swallowed down his donut so quickly Tim was afraid he was going to start choking. Then he gave Tim the stink eye and looked over at the book on Tim’s other side.
“Flaws?”
“Well yeah,” Tim shrugged, being honest as he and Jason partook in a staring contest. “The pacing, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s beginning and resolution, the threads that offered little payoffs. The showing and not telling among other things,” Tim listed. “I can see why the book is such a classic and there is a lot to enjoy, but I think there’s a lot to pick apart too. Oh,” Tim added, perking up. “And compared to Jane Eyre, I’m going to have to give that one the win. To me, Jane Eyre had more life to it. What are your thoughts?” Tell me what you’re thinking.
Tim had read Jane Eyre and actually read it a few years ago with Mrs. Mac after she roped him into watching the 1943 movie adaptation. That was her favorite book of all times and her favorite movie adaptation of said book, and she challenged Tim to read it for himself. If he finished, he would get an extra box of cookies for his approaching birthday.
Tim knew that she would have given him the extra cookies anyways because his parents had been away for three months and made no mention of returning for his birthday—made no acknowledgement that they even remembered it was his birthday. So Mrs. Mac was going to step up like she always did with sweets, the challenge just a fun idea—a way to entertain Tim as he wouldn’t have any sort of party with the ghosts continents away from him. And it had been fun for Tim. It had been so much fun.
Jason stared at him. Tim stared back. Jason stared back as Tim stared back and they kept staring back to back. Then Jason tore out of the living room and into his bedroom. When he came out, he looked frazzled and carried a worn book in his hand. He planted himself back down on the couch near the donuts but didn’t grab another one. He looked at Tim seriously and waved around the book in his hand.
“We got to talk,” he said, and Tim happily picked up his own copy, beaming.
Jason made him a grilled turkey and cheese sandwich with a side of oven roasted sweet potato fries. He give a lengthy and detailed explanation on why Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s relationship was narratively superior to that of Jane and Rochester, pointing to different scenes in the book as proof before popping a fry in his mouth—chewing and swallowing before launching into another defense.
Tim ate it all up and provided his own counterarguments during their lengthy, lengthy lunch that ran into dinner time where Jason made them sesame chicken and asparagus seasoned with sea salt and honey.
Back on the comfy couch, Jason held the remote in his right hand and was about to start Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightly, his holy grail of a movie, when he stopped cold, seemingly becoming aware of his surroundings. With a robotic jerk, he cut his eyes down to Tim, going bug-eyed.
“Wait… no!”
Tim blinked innocently. “No what?”
“We’re not hanging out! Fuck, has it really been all day? I don’t hang with bats!!”
“But what about the movie?” Tim asked him.
Jason paused, conflicted, and after what felt like a long and hard internal debate, a serious and determined look crossed over his face.
“After the movie then.”
Tim beamed.
And during the movie—when Tim leaned ever so casually against Jason’s side and listened closely to Jason raving about the movie as it played—sometime during that lively raving, Jason slung an arm around Tim’s shoulder like he hadn’t noticed what he was doing.
Jason kept raving and cackling defenses, and Tim held his breath. An unintentional, half-cuddling… And only on day two?
A success!