Chapter Text
Sunday, August 25th
Tim looked between the couch and the loveseat again, contemplating.
If he curled up on the loveseat, then Jason would probably pass out on the couch. They would end up sleeping in the same room just a few feet away from each other, which could be nice. The friendly version of sharing a bed. If Tim slept on the couch, then Jason would be forced to sleep in his own bed alone or wake Tim up.
After getting out of the shower and putting on Jason’s clothes as if he still had the right to, Tim did not crawl back into Jason’s bed the way he had just last night, because he and Jason were friends and Tim didn’t know what the hell that meant.
But he wanted to—he wanted to crawl into Jason’s shitty bed and wait for him to wrap around Tim, all warm skin and strong hands.
Tim knew Jason well enough to be certain that Jason wouldn’t sleep alone in his own bed, not while Tim was on the couch. It was a sure way to make sure he either woke Tim up or curled up next to him.
Couch it was.
The couch was, admittedly, more comfortable than the bed, but the bar was low.
Tim flopped down on the brown leather couch and shifted a bit, readjusting and trying to get comfortable.
As comfortable as he could be waiting for his just-friend to get back from committing crimes Tim should very much be stopping.
He was hard pressed to understand what he had been thinking when he stepped into Jason's space less than 36 hours ago. It was just as hard to regret it. Tim sucked in a deep breath and let it out all at once, sinking into the couch. He thought about the whole fucking mess he was in, about how it was entirely his own making, and then thought maybe Step was right not to kiss Cass.
Steph.
Shit.
Tim popped up off the couch and started for his suit, which he had left in a pathetic little pile on Jason’s bathroom floor. The RFD lined pocket in his suit jacket still had his phone, which was still off, which vibrated incessantly the moment he turned it on.
2:13am. Eleven missed calls, five of which were Dick. Twenty text notifications from Steph alone. A missed call from Cynthia earlier in the evening—with a voicemail.
He clicked on that one first.
“Good evening, Mr. Drake-Wayne, I am watching the channel twelve news right now and would like confirmation that you alive and well, and will be in the office on Monday morning. Please respond at your earliest convenience.”
Even at 9pm on a Saturday, she was still Ms. Business. Tim didn’t have the time or energy to call her back, so he shot her the most unprofessional text of his lifetime.
Alive. Will be ooo wfh Monday, back in office Tuesday. Thank you for your concern.
Steph was a different story.
I am alive and fine. I’m sorry but also it was the quickest way out and safest for everyone. I will call you in the morning. Don't hate me forever.
Her typing bubble popped up for a few seconds and then disappeared. Tim sighed, resigned to her wrath in-person.
He shot Dick a quick text: Alive and fine. Will call in morning.
Only for his phone to immediately start ringing.
Tim let out an actual groan before he tapped on accept and said, “Dick-”
“Fuck you. Actually? Fuck both of you. Come home right now-”
“Dick,” Tim cut in, “Chill out. I’m fine, I’m perfectly fine-”
“Fine?” Dick snapped, “Nice to hear that you’re fine, Tim. There are two dead DeLuca’s in the Plaza Hotel, a dozen people injured in the scramble, the news is saying that they were assassins trying to kill the McKaney family. Marino is underground and who knows where, and you’ve been untraceable for like five hours. But you are okay. Great, fantastic. Thank you. Fuck you. Give me Jason.”
Tim swallowed around the sour edge in the back corners of his mouth and said, tone tight, “Jason’s not here, Dick. And I don’t know what you want me about the news-”
“The news? I want you to not get into a fucking car with the piece of shit that you just watched shoot someone, Tim. That’s what I want. I saw the tape. You watched him kill someone and hopped right in with him anyway. Who the fuck was that? And why do you trust him more that your family, Tim?”
The bedroom window squeaked as it was tugged open, and Tim heard Jason’s heavy boots as Dick said, “And speaking of family. You know Jay is legally your brother, right?”
“What? Hold on,” Tim cut in, “Just- please. Hold on a sec,” Tim begged, overwhelmed with the sheer magnitude of how bad everything was going.
Tim wasn’t supposed to have his phone in Jason’s apartment, and Jason was walking out of his bedroom covered in more blood, somehow. He looked like shit, exhausted and beat to hell.
Jason gestured with the gray sweatpants in his hand to the bathroom, mouthed, Shower, and then closed the door behind him.
“Hold on?” Dick snapped, “You want me to hold on? You need to hold the fuck on-”
Legally your brother, Dick’s voice echoed in his skull.
Apparently Jason didn’t care that he had his phone out? Was actively talking on it? Tim was certain that Jason had told him not to let the bats track Tim to his place.
Tim flicked through his mental Jason file. Jason had said to ‘keep the bats away from his place.’ Tim had promised to be untraceable before he got halfway to Jason’s. Jason had told him not to ‘let any bats in.’
Goddamn it. Was he an idiot in yet another way? Dick said that he already knew where Jason’s place was, did Jason know that Dick knew? Why the hell had he been leaving his phone in his car?
Dick did not hold on. “Piece of advice, Tim? Don’t fuck people who you are legally related to. And are also don’t fuck murderers? The goal was to get him back into the family, not get into his goddamn bed.”
“Oh my god,” Tim pleaded, “please stop. Dick. Stop. Who told you- No one is in anyone’s bed,” Lie. “and there is nothing happening.” Lie. “Also even if there was, we are definitely not brothers-”
“You literally are, Tim. You are both legally Waynes. And do not bullshit me, ‘there’s nothing happening’. I’m not a fucking idiot, Tim.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Tim placated, “but I am being so serious- Dick I need you to listen to me, there is nothing happening and we are not brothers, we are not related-”
“You are both my little brothers, Tim!”
Without thinking, Tim said, “Well then that’s a you problem.”
“A me problem? I’m going to kill you both. I am going to come over there and beat the shit out of both of you until you take your head out of each other’s asses. I cannot believe-”
“Thank you for your concern,” Tim cut in loudly, talking over his seething threats, “but please for the love of god do not come over here. I’ll see you later, okay? Bye!” And Tim hung up.
His phone immediately started ringing again. Tim tapped decline and then, like the idiot he was, turned his phone back off.
Maybe he was better off leaving his phone in his car.
Which he did not have because Marcus had dropped him off on the street corner. Either someone was going to have to pick him up or Jason was going to have to drop him off. Maybe Tim would get handed off in the parking lot of Gotham Academy, like had handed off Damian to Jason.
Fuck. That seemed like a hundred years ago. The time period of his life before Jason felt foreign and nearly entirely removed.
Behind thin walls and a closed door, the shower squeaked off.
Tim started to sit down in the red loveseat and then decided against it, only to feel weird and out of place just standing next to it. He tried to lean against the arm and look cool, like his cheeks weren't still hot with embarrassment and Dick hadn’t just verbally taken his head off.
Jason stopped in the hallway and just looked at him.
Tim looked back, and god, he looked good. Beat to hell and exhausted, but still good. His shower damp hair was a mess, like he hadn’t even bothered to try and tame it, and his thick arms showed in his loose t-shirt. Tim wanted to put his mouth of his throat.
And couldn't, his own doing.
“Hey,” Jason said quietly. He sounded as tired as he looked.
“Hey,” Tim held his phone up, “Dick’s pissed.”
Jason huffed. “Fuck 'em.”
“Yeah,” Tim agreed quietly, nearly lying. He would have to mitigate that issue at some point. He debated warning Jason that Dick was on a war path concerning them, and decided that Jason’s day had been long enough as it was.
Jason leaned against the hallway wall, more like slumped, and said, “I’m kinda desperate to just lay down.”
Tim nodded along, unsure of what to do with that. “Okay.”
“Roy slept in my bed like last week, if you wanna,” Jason trailed off.
Tim bit back on his jealously and hesitated. Sleeping in the same bed was all he wanted, and also a horrible idea. He wasn’t confident that he could be that close to Jason and not cross a line—or all of them.
“Can I be honest?” Jason asked suddenly.
Tim whispered, “Yeah, of course.”
Jason let out an aggravated huff. “This whole friends or dating or not or whatever is such- bullshit. I had a horrible fucking day, top to bottom, and I just-” Jason let out a long, tired sigh, “I just wanna lay down. I just want to sleep, next to you, preferably. Can we just, fuckin', I don’t know. Pick all this shit back up tomorrow morning?”
“Yes,” Tim breathed, relieved that he got to put of the consequences of his choices for one more night, “we can just pick this shit back up tomorrow.”
"Yeah?" Jason confirmed.
Tim nodded and pushed off the loveseat. "Yeah."
It was magnetic. Tim was back in the his favorite place within the next breath, and Jason was wrapped around him like he had never left.
He was so warm.
Jason's big hand sunk into his hair and every nerve in his spine shivered under his touch. Tim pressed his nose into his sternum and dropped his head to the soft muscle of his chest. Tim pushed his palms up the side of his ribs, along the thick muscle, and dug his fingers into the dips in his back muscles.
Jason's lips brushed against his temple, the barest hint of a kiss, before he nosed into Tim's hair, kissing the crown of his head. Tim's heart fluttered under his ribs at the feeling.
"I didn't kill anyone," Jason whispered into his hair.
Tim hummed into his chest. "I'm not in charge of you," Tim whispered, "but thank you."
Jason's warm, rough hand cupped the back of Tim's head and every so gently scratched at his hair. "Bed," Jason whispered.
Tim made a stupid, empty headed noise into his chest. Jason huffed a laugh, grinning against his temple, and pulled back.
Jason nudged him in the direction of the bedroom and walked into the main living space, presumably to lock up for the night. Tim stopped by his side of the bed and waited.
It felt weird to get in without Jason there, like he didn't have a right to that space any more.
Tim stayed at the edge of the bed and just looked at him, watched him, salivated over the obvious muscle under his t-shirt as he locked the window and turned off the lights. He felt the need to say, This feels like a bad idea.
Jason flopped down, stretched out, and said, "Come here."
Tim couldn't have fought against that even if he wanted to. Just like the night before, Tim slid onto Jason's thin uncomfortable mattress and molded himself to Jason's side like he belonged there. He hummed as Jason's arm curled around him, tugging him impossibly closer. Tim smoothed his hand down Jason's side, feeling every single muscle under his shirt, and tucked his nose into the space just below his collarbones. He was so damn warm.
Jason murmured against his hair, "We aren't very good at this."
Tim huffed a laugh into his shoulder. "No," he agreed, "we aren't."
"What are we gonna do about this?" Jason asked, dry and exasperated.
Without thinking, Tim said, "Deal with it tomorrow."
Tim felt Jason's answering chuckle just as much as he heard it. An uncontrollable warmth fluttered under is ribs. Tim hid his pleased grin in Jason's shoulder like he couldn't feel it just as clearly.
"Genius," Jason teased with a soft voice, quiet in the dark.
Tim shook his head in disagreement against his shoulder. Maybe before he met Jason he would have claimed the title, but as of recent he hadn't been anything but an idiot. He blamed Jason for that.
“Hey,” Jason whispered.
Tim hummed into his shoulder, What?
“Do you remember when I burned the shit out of those eggs yesterday morning?”
Tim paused, thought about it, and then huffed a quiet laugh.
“Top to fuckin’ bottom,” Jason drawled, dry and teasing.
Tim hid his grin in Jason’s warm chest and chuckled. It was technically Tim's fault for distracting Jason long enough that the eggs got burnt, but Jason’s morning did technically start with burning the crap out of a few eggs.
And then Tim continued the trend downward.
He sobered up at the thought.
"I'm sorry," Tim whispered, "for contributing to your horrible day."
Jason made a noise of disagreement. "I am pissed about a lot of things, and none of them are you."
"I didn't help make things better," Tim reminded.
The arm around his waist tightened, squeezing him for just a second. "Two way street," Jason whispered softly.
The phrase two-way street triggered the thought. “Hey,” Tim whispered back, “what’s going on with the lounge?”
Jason groaned. “Fuckin’ shit, that’s what’s going on.” Jason nosed at his temple, gently nuzzling into his hair. Every pleasant nerve under Tim’s skin, trailing from his hairline down to behind his ear, shivered under his touch.
"You don't have to tell me," Tim told him, "but I am nosey and I do want to know."
"And I wanna complain about it," Jason said, "but I don't need Batman to get an update on the mess." Jason said his name with a seething vitriol that Tim didn’t like and couldn’t do anything about, not right then.
“I might not agree with whatever you’re up to,” Tim prefaced quietly, “but I’m not a rat. I’m not going to turn around and spill your secrets.”
Jason hummed like he was deciding if he believed him or not.
“Promise,” Tim whispered. He brushed his lips over Jason’s worn t-shirt, over his strong shoulder, just because it was there. He did it with the knowledge that he shouldn't.
“The GCPD were supposed to raid the lounge in five weeks, we’ve been feeding them good tips for the last like three months,” Jason started lowly. “They always run busts early as if it’s gonna a surprise, so I thought I had three weeks or so to get my ducks in a row. And then, because yesterday was the day of all-of-the-bad-things-happening-the-whole-time,” Tim huffed a quiet laugh at his dramatics, and felt Jason’s mouth quirk into a grin against his temple, “they raided early. The game-plan was to let the GCPD create a power vacuum and then be there at the exact right time to fill it. Still worked out, but fuck if that was not as smooth as it could have been.”
“And no one died?” Tim asked quietly.
“I didn’t say that,” Jason huffed. “I said I didn’t kill anyone, which is true, I didn’t, just for you. But I also didn’t intervene in whatever the hell is going on between Maroni and Thorne, so." He shrugged, shifting the warm muscle Tim was using as a pillow.
Just for you.
"Thank you," Tim whispered into his shoulder, "for not killing anyone."
"Don't get used to it," Jason drawled, tone dry. "I'm not gonna turn into a saint anytime soon."
Tim hummed in agreement. He flatted his palm on Jason's warm chest and said, "I wouldn't ask you to."
—
Tim woke up to Jason's gentle touch. He brushed his palm up and down Tim's arm, pet over Tim's side, readjusting Tim's stolen t-shirt to cover his bare skin and smoothing over it. Tim stayed perfectly still and reveled in it for as long as he could, until Jason whispered, voice morning-rough, "Mornin'."
Tim hummed into his bicep, and was hit with the Deja-vu of where he had been just 24-hours ago.
In his sleep he had shifted, turning away from Jason's chest and curling around his arm instead, just like the night before.
But it wasn't the night before. Tim couldn't kiss his bare skin and Jason wouldn't put his lips back to Tim's neck the way Tim so desperately wanted him to, because Tim had made the correct, rational, smart call.
Correct, rational, smart, he mentally chanted. All rational and good reason was easy to ignore tucked into Jason's side.
Tim had the thought that good reason had already been ignored, given that he was where he was.
"Don't rush," Jason whispered. He curled around Tim briefly, just long enough to kiss his temple, and then rolled back. Tim held in a displeased noise as Jason took his arm back, dislodging Tim from his chosen pillow.
The shitty mattress squeaked and shifted as he left it. Tim watched him walked out and couldn't help but admire his physique—he was tall and made exclusively of strong muscle, attractive lines and enticing curves. Tim had the fleeting thought that he would be nice to photograph someday.
He hadn't take his camera out for fun in a long time.
Tim didn't rush, but once his reason to lay down on Jason's thin, shitty mattress left, Tim had no good reason to linger. The springs dug into his hip as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge.
He didn't bother showering, just grabbed his silent phone, fixed his hair, and brushed his teeth with his toothbrush, the one in the same cup as Jason's and Roy's. He didn't want to end up like Roy—loving Jason from a painfully friendly distance. He tried not to think about it too hard.
Jason was moving around the kitchen with purpose. Tim stopped at the entryway to the kitchen and leaned against the frame, just like he had the morning prior, and watched him. He wanted to touch the defined muscle in his arms and the smooth planes of his back, wanted to press his lips to the strong curve of his shoulder, and couldn't. The thought ached.
Smart, rational, reasonable.
"Do you need help?" Tim asked, both as a genuine question and as to not startle him.
"Hey, morning," Jason greeted without looking back, "I think I'm good. You sleep okay?"
"Yeah," Tim said, "despite the shitty mattress."
"The free mattress," Jason corrected easily.
It was so normal, painfully so.
Jason, in an old t-shirt and grey sweatpants, sprinkling shredded cheese over a glass baking pan of something, the coffee maker gurgling, Tim watching him move around the kitchen while wearing one of his t-shirts.
He could have had this if he didn't fuck it up. If he stopped trying to be smart, rational, reasonable.
Jason put tinfoil over his glass baking dish and slid it in the oven—every defined muscle in his forearm flexed as he did so. Tim swallowed down the physical want watering in the back corners of his mouth.
Jason closed the oven, set his timer, and turned around. He looked at Tim, and Tim looked back.
He was so damn handsome. Loose bedhead curls that just begged for a gentle hand, thick chest and strong shoulders and high cheekbones. Tim wanted to touch him.
"Are you okay?" Jason asked, voice soft.
Tim cocked a brow. "Yes?" He gave Jason a look, "Why wouldn't I be?"
Jason gave him a questioning look right back. "Because you were the target of a hit last night, then you got kind-of kidnapped and then we argued pretty good? Shits kinda been hitting the fan on all sides?"
"Oh. Yeah, I mean," Tim shrugged, "shits kind of hit the fan for you too. Are you okay?"
Jason rocked his head to the side, considering. "Uh, I think so. I gotta deal with some stuff." He swallowed and Tim read hesitant in his expression, loud and clear.
"What?" Tim asked.
"Do you want me to take you back to the Manor?" Jason offered quietly.
The Manor that Tim would never ask him to go back to, the Manor that stood between them and a happy relationship, the Manor he should have be buried behind. "No," Tim whispered, shaking his head. "I can- I'm not ready to go back yet, but I can get a taxi or call Steph or something. I wouldn't- you don't have to go back there for me," Tim told him.
Jason's strong chest deflated. He nodded, obviously relieved, and said, "Okay, cool. That'll-" he pointed at the oven, "be done in like 40 minutes, hopefully. So," he gave Tim an awkward half shrug. "I can make you a coffee if you wanna sit," he offered.
Tim looked at him, really looked, and pushed off the wall. Tim studied his tired eyes and tense shoulders and the tight set of his jaw. "Did you sleep okay?"
"Uh." The muscles in Jason's cheeks jumped as he clenched his jaw. "No?" He said it like it was a question.
"You didn't wake me up," Tim noted.
Jason nodded. "Good, I tried not to."
"You should have," Tim corrected. "If you needed-"
"I was fine," Jason cut in, "I was just thinking. It was nice to have you close while I just like, stared at the ceiling." He huffed a dry laugh and said, "You're a very restless sleeper."
Tim was being a bit of a hypocrite—he did everything in his power not to wake up Jason the night before. He stayed perfectly still in Jason's arms while he thought about every reason he shouldn't have been there. He wanted to know what Jason was loosing sleep over, and if it was him.
"Thinking about," Tim trailed off, pushing for more information.
Jason shrugged. "You?" He swallowed. "Bruce. Talia, Dames. My mom. Artemis? I- I was just," he waved a hand around, "you know, thinking."
Tim stared at him. He couldn't help himself, "What about me?"
"Everything that I don't know," Jason said easily. "How you grew up and who your parents were and what you want out of life. Why you want anything to do with me. If we're meant for each other. You know," Jason gave him a wry grin, "casual stuff."
"First date things," Tim said sarcastically.
"Yeah, exactly." Jason gave him a real smile and said, "I was thinkin' about that too—dating. I know that we aren't, or we're- I don't think I really know what we're doing," Jason admitted, "but I was thinking about taking you out for coffee or something. We haven't been on a proper outing like this," he gestured between them, "as real people. Could be nice."
Tim leaned back into the kitchen partition and fought to keep his face still through a hundred wildly different emotions. "We aren't dating," he clarified, tone serious, no matter how badly he wanted to preen and be pleased with the idea of Jason taking him out on dates. "And maybe we shouldn't have an outing, just for a little bit," Tim said quietly. "I am associated with Red Hood, after all."
Jason's expression fell and tightened, disappointed and annoyed at the reminder. "Right," he huffed. "Fuck."
Tim swallowed down his own disappointment. Be smart, he reminded himself. "Yeah."
"What are we going to do about that?" Jason asked.
"There's not much we can do," Tim told him. "I mean, I'll do some digging and see if I can find out what the fuck he even wants with me, or what he might do next, but," he trailed off.
"I disagree," Jason said, tone tight, "there is much we can do. Should do, if we want to keep you alive."
"I am alive," Tim reminded.
Jason sighed. "Tim."
"There's nothing to do but wait," Tim told him.
"I thought you wanted to be on the offensive." Jason raised a challenging brow. "I distinctly remember-"
"The offensive got a charity ball shot up and your guy killed," Tim reminded sharply. Jason's jaw jumped as he clenched it. "Falcone doesn't know where I'm at right now and I don't know what he wants, or why he wants me. You have the mess with the lounge and we don't know how that will affect the underground. I have actual work that needs to be done. I say just," Tim gave him a half shrug, "let it lie. Let me do some ground work before we act."
The tension between them dragged out as Jason stared at him, obviously critical. "Let it lie," Jason echoed.
"Yes," Tim said.
"No."
Tim threw a lazy hand out. "What do you mean no?"
"No," Jason said easily. "I am not going to let things lie. He put a gun to the back of some guy's head and then a gun in his hand and said go shoot. I've got two dudes in the hospital and another one that needs a funeral, which I gotta pay for. He fucked with me, Tim. And he fucked with you. I'm not letting jack shit lie."
Tim rolled his eyes. "You are above petty retaliation."
Jason crossed his arms. "I am not."
"Well get there," Tim snipped lowly. "This is my problem, first and foremost, and I'm not going to have more blood on my hands."
"My actions are my own," Jason reminded. He sounded like he was ready to fight about it.
"Until they're on my behalf, even partially," Tim told him. He dropped his chin and gave Jason a wide-eyed look through his lashes. "Let it lie," he whispered, voice soft, "for me?"
Jason visibly melted, just a little bit, and internally Tim preened at the sight. "You know what you're doing," Jason accused.
"I do," Tim agreed, still whisper soft. He bit back a pleased grin. "Is it working?"
"No," Jason lied. He pointed at Tim and said, "Get out, I'll bring you a coffee."
Tim put his hands up, innocent. "Getting out." He walked into the living room and curled into his red loveseat—was it still his?—and waited. He turned his phone over in his hands and debated if he was willing to deal with the inevitable mess yet.
It took just a minute for Jason to walk out of the kitchen with two coffees. He handed over Tim's coffee as he passed him, and then Jason didn't touch him. Didn't set a gentle hand on his shoulder, didn't cup his cheek, didn't card a hand through his hair. Any and all of the quiet, casual contact from the morning prior was gone.
Tim's own doing. The distance was agonizing.
Jason brough his laptop and a stack of files back to the couch. Tim watched him move around as he got himself settled—his cup of coffee and glass of water and pens and legal pad. The quiet radio on, the bowl of apple slices on the table between them. He finally sat down on the couch and looked at Tim. "You need anything?"
Tim shook his head, "Nope."
Jason nodded once and opened his laptop, and that was that.
Tim turned his personal phone back on only to immediately dismiss the onslaught of notifications. He chipped away at his work email first, whittling it down to a sparse 200 unread. He ignored his texts and calls entirely, checking all of the pertinent apps.
It took one post about the McKaney ball followed by a targeted ad for an under-bed storage solution for Tim to be reminded that Jason's mattress was free, from the side of the road, and a piece of shit. Mattress shopping, and coincidentally bedframe shopping and linens shopping, was far more pleasant than whatever was waiting for him in his voicemails.
Every now and then he would glance up at Jason and find him in various stages of focus and frustration. He had the calculator app open on his phone and was frowning at his computer like it had personally wronged him. Tim eyed him over the rim of his warm coffee mug, just admiring his side profile, despite his aggravation.
He tried not to let himself look too long.
Jason broke the easy quiet. “Are you working right now?”
“I was,” Tim looked up from his phone, “right now I’m buying you a new bed.”
Jason huffed. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s bad,” Tim argued lightly.
Jason shook his head at his work but didn’t bother to respond.
“Do you have a preference on bed frame colors?” Tim asked, “Your options are all of the typical wood tones.”
“Do not buy me a new bed frame, Tim,” Jason told him, “Mine works fine.”
“If you had a preference,” Tim offered the hypothetical.
“My preference is to not have you buy me shit I don’t need. If that’s out, then no preference,” Jason said, “Your project, your call.”
"Okay," Tim tried to keep his tone light. He didn't want to argue, not over something so menial.
"So you aren't working on anything serious?" Jason asked again. His tone lacked any of his usual snark or sass.
"No," Tim confirmed, "nothing serious."
Jason pushed a hand through his hair and asked, “Can I bitch for a second?”
It was easy for Tim to turn his phone off and let it fall to his lap. "Please do."
“So I’ve got-” Jason flopped back against the couch and sighed. “I’ve got a deal with some of my guys that, if something were to happen, I’ve got them covered. Medical bills, court bills, whatever. I’m not just going to leave them hanging, that kind of shit ruins families. So I’ve got two dudes in the hospital that I’m going to need to cover, and one of my best arms runners is dead.”
Tim felt the sharp edge of guilt tighten around his chest.
“Josh was a fucking asshole—he was the arms runner. Total douche. I’m pretty sure the guy beat around his girl, and they’ve got a kid together that he didn’t want and neither of them can afford. He picked up a gig with me running shipments between spots to make some extra cash, and now this girl’s partner is dead and this family’s source of income is gone. And that’s on me,” Jason said confidently, like Tim wasn’t to blame.
“I think it’s on me,” Tim interrupted quietly.
“You didn’t order the hitman, you didn’t hire the door guys, and you didn’t choose to live a life of crime. The people at fault here are Falcone, the guy that pulled the trigger, me, and Josh. That’s it,” Jason said certainly.
Tim argued, “If you step it back once more line, then Falcone ordered the hit because of me-”
“If we step it back and back and back in order to find whose to blame, then it’s fucking Bruce’s fault that Josh is dead. So we’re not going to do that, yeah?” Jason's tone was tense.
Tim, for once in his life, shut up.
“Anyway," Jason sighed, "I’m trying to do the math on how much Josh was making between his gig with me and his day job and how long to supplement that income for his baby mama and their little girl. How long is a reasonable time to expect her to find a new source of income, get back on her feet?" Jason dropped his head back to the couch and shook his head at the ceiling. Tim wanted to kiss the scar on his throat.
"If I give her a year’s worth of his wages all at once, she’s going to blow it on God knows what and fuck herself and her kid over further, not be smart about it," Jason thought out loud, "but it’s not my responsibility to make sure she’s going to be smart about it, I didn’t promise that, I just said I’d take care of the money side. But the reason she’s not going to be smart about it is because no one has ever taught her or a million other people in this city how to be smart with their money, so it’s not her fault she wouldn’t handle 50k well, but it’s not my responsibility to make sure she would, but it is my responsibility to take care of them now that I got Josh killed, but I don’t know is she even knows that he was working with Red Hood or even cares. And I just-”
Jason took a slow breath and said, “I don’t know what to do right now. I don’t know how to help best- how to do what’s best to truly help. You know?”
Tim sat there and processed, a little stunned. “I didn’t know you did that for the people that worked for you,” Tim admitted.
“My dad got fucked over by working for a crime lord,” Jason said quietly, “and it screwed my mom and I pretty bad. I just don’t wanna do that to anyone else.”
In the months Tim had spent in his presence, Jason had brought up his mom only once and very briefly. Tim tucked that tidbit away for safe keeping.
“That’s good of you,” Tim told him softly.
Jason rolled his head to the side and gave Tim a small grin. “I’m not all bad,” he half teased.
Tim looked at him, at his green eyes and bed head and old t-shirt and strong chest, and said, "I never thought you were."
Jason gaze dropped with his head as he ducked down a bit. Tim watched his tan throat work as he swallowed. "I- Well." The muscle in his cheeks jumped as his jaw clenched.
"What have you done in the past?" Tim asked, instead of letting him linger on Tim's bleeding heart, "When this kind of thing has happened."
Jason pulled his head up only to drop it to the side. "Well, so, a couple months back-"
A heavy knock at the door stopped him. They both stilled and waited, tense. Ready to fight.
Jason gave him a look. Who is that?
Tim shook his head and shrugged. I don't know. He desperately hoped that it wasn't Dick.
The gun appeared from thin air, which didn't shock Tim in the slightest. He watched as Jason stalked up to his front door, gun in hand, and tapped on the security system, disarming it. The fact that he didn't have a live feed of the outside of his door was ridiculous—Tim added it to his mental to-do list. He considered getting out of his seat to give Jason back up and decided that he didn't need it.
Please don't be Dick, Tim silently begged.
Tim watched him crack the door open with a gun pressed to the back of it, ready to fire through the wood. Jason stilled. Tim couldn't see who it was, the door was barely open and Jason was blocking what little of it was.
The tense silence drug out as neither Jason nor the visitor spoke. Tim could tell he was just staring at whoever it was. He bit back the urge to say something—he wanted to know.
"Um," Jason hesitated, voice quiet, "Tim's not here," he lied.
"Well good thing I'm not here for Tim," Steph's voice travelled clearly, tone snappy and cold, "I'm here for you."