Chapter Text
Uncontrollable laughter broke from his lips. Making him giddy. Jittery. A little unhinged. The blood splatted nicely, sweetly. Across the rooftop. Few more adjustments and his artwork proved finished. Seventeen dead human-traffickers. All headless. More laughter broke from his lips at the thought, finding it tickled his belly something rotten. Dancing his way across rooftops, he carried the heads in his sack. Like Santa Clause.
One head for the Commissioner, one head for Alfred. A particularly bashed up head for Dr Leslie, she’ll have fun with that one. Nice looking heads for the Wayne’s, who sat cosy in their graves. Handsome looking head for Dick, that had been hard to choose. An ugly one for Damian. Funny one for Babs, smelly one for Bruce and finally one he painted to look like him for Jason. Content with his work, he decided to go take a nap.
Jason questioned his loyalty, his love for the adorable lunatic. The head made an awful addition to their bedroom. Not to mention, Tim’s lava lamp had been pushed off his bedside table in exchange for the damn thing. After all the fight Tim had put in to get the tacky lava lamp on his bedside table in the first place. Not to mention, the lunatic had disappeared. Which meant, he had to call in the Bats.
“Hemlock,” Oracle responded quickly, on account of him rarely calling, though that had increased somewhat over the months. And to think, not a year ago and they were at each other's throats. “How’s JJ?” And Jason’s heart swelled, it had taken so long for them to finally accept Tim for who he is now, and he had to ruin all that.
“You don’t happen to have a case with a missing head, do you?” He asked causally, maybe it had falling through the radar. The Bats can’t be involved in every case, even though they try. He could practically feel the way she tensed on the other side, as if waiting for him to carry on. “JJ’s may have slipped into a delusional state,” it does happen, though he’s not proud to admit it.
“No, but we have a case with Seventeen beheaded businessmen,” Oracle informed him, and he tensed in anticipation. “Nine of which have already been found, in people’s homes,” she added on, and Jason mentally whined in response. “I’m sending Signal your way, be nice,” she sounded only a little serious and he rolled his eyes.
“I actually like Signal,” Jason admitted, just before his flowers warned him of an incoming intruder. And then Signal landed on the balcony. “Do we know where JJ is?” Jason decided to ask, as Signal pulled a face of disgust before getting on with bagging the evidence. After a few pictures.
“He turned his tracker off,” he informed her with displeasure and a hint of worry.
“Nothing at the moment, I’ll make sure everyone keeps an eye out for him,” she added on, and he whined at the thought of the wrong Bat finding him. “No-one will approaching him, unless they have to interfere,” she promised and he sulked at the thought but knew he wasn’t getting a better deal, considering he already killed seventeen people.
Coming down, from the delusional stage, way past JJ and back to Tim. It’s an odd feeling. Like waking up in someone else's body. Used to terrify him. Now he’s come to accept it as part of his life, sometimes he becomes someone else. They’re not completely separate. He’s aware of his actions as JJ, it’s more like getting drunk.
Death lingers in his nose, and he knows he’s fucked up. That JJ fucked up. The delusions had been minimal, manageable but recently, he’s opened a lot of old wounds. That doesn’t come without consequences. Daring to open his eyes, he finds himself in the vat and feels his stomach begin to roll with uneasiness and disgust.
Joker’s voice, lingering in his head. The feeling of drowning, back then, he had been gone. A blank slate for the Joker to re-create. Harley had saved him. And her voice came in loud and clear, and he found himself relaxing a little. Ignoring the heads. Not thinking, had never been Tim’s strong point but he managed it long enough to climb his way out.
“Fucking hell, Baby Lun,” Jason landed down next to him, or Hemlock. Due to the vibrant green skin, and flowers in his hair. Swinging down from a vine, that wrapped itself back around him. Wearing a big leather jacket that he removed, leaving his chest bare. Hemlock chuckled knowingly, as he wrapped the jacket around him, it swallowing him up. “We have company,” he added on.
Only then, did Tim realise, he’s naked and blushed as he spotted Signal, not looking him in the eyes. “They’re in the vat,” Tim admitted, uncomfortably and Signal nodded, before disappearing and he found himself resting his head on Hemlock’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he spat out next, and found arms wrapping around him. Holding him close.
“We pushed you too far, that’s all,” Hemlock reassured him, and something uneasy settled in his gut, because several people lost their lives for this. But he’d exhausted. Doesn’t want to argue, knows Hemlock will never agree. Killing has never been a problem for him. And it’s still a punch to the stomach sometimes.
“Um, guys, we’re still missing heads,” Signal awkwardly informed them, and Hemlock’s face darkened and Tim hide his face away more. “Five heads, I think,” he added on, carrying three bagged heads with him. Just how many people did he kill?
Tim watched the rubber duck, that looked like Robin bob around in the water. Creating little waves that stopped it from hitting into the sides. Finding himself, using the water to make it do ‘tricks’ while Jason combed his wet hair. “How are you wanting this?” Jason asked, sweetly and Tim melted slightly in response.
Some days, he wanted to be Tim Drake, other days just Tim, and days where he’s JJ but today, he found himself conflicted. He wanted desperately to be Tim Drake, but as the tears gathered in his eyes, he knew he didn’t deserve that. “I don’t know,” he lied, and Jason pressed a meaningful kiss to the side of his head.
“You know I don’t care,” Jason reminded him softly, and Tim nodded his head but said nothing. “It’s the Bats, isn’t it,” he growled out, in anger, that had Tim turning his face away. “Fine, why don’t we go ‘normal’,” the word sat wrong on Jason’s lips, but he got to work and began colouring his hair black.
Tim went back to his rubber duck. He actual had a collection, or more accurately JJ had the collection. From Robin and Batman to Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. Jason made them for him, first as a joke but he found himself taking to them. Jason made quick work. Colouring his hair, before shoving a shower cap on it. Which had bats on it.
“Here,” Jason said softly, and he looked up with scared green eyes, in awe and amusement at the man sat above him. “Hi,” Jason added on, with a wink that had a love sick smile spreading across Tim’s face. Getting all flustered.
Holding up the flannel, and Tim’s eyes closed. Leaving him looking young, and vulnerable. It sometimes hits Jason, how youthful the other man looks, and he is a man, at twenty, even if sometimes he acts like a child.
Washing Tim’s face carefully, he checks for damage. No scraps. Or bruises on the face, meaning he mostly likely didn’t get in a fight with those idiots. Extra careful, on the permanent scar of the bat shaped mask, that sat around his eyes and the scars that run across his cheeks. Planting kisses to them afterwards, that has Tim blushing.
Moving down, to the scar that ran across Tim’s neck. Small amounts of guilt, and regret washed through Jason, who wished he could turn back time and alter their first meeting. Though if given the chance, he probably wouldn’t. Wouldn’t want to risk the chance, of things going different, not with Tim’s fragile mentality.
Bruises litter Tim’s back, though nothing serious or concerning. He notes as he washed his shoulders, before moving down his arm. Old nasty looking scars, cover the wrists but nothing new which sends waves of relief through Jason. His hands trembly. Deep lacerations on his palms that will need to be tended to but they’re not bleeding.
Everything else checks out. Just plenty of old scars, and Jason can handle that. Wrapping him up, in a big fluffy towel. Jason sits him down on the counter, where Tim swings his legs around, as he gathers supplies. Drying the back of Tim’s hands, and using a sterilised wipe for the laceration itself. “I don’t know what caused them,” Tim admitted, with a deep frown, willing his brain to work.
“That’s okay,” Jason reminds him, but Tim doesn’t look like he believes it, as Jason adds cream to the wound before wrapping it up. “You don’t need to know everything Tim,” Jason reminds him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, that has Tim sighing softly. Making quick work of his other hand, before washing Tim’s hair over the side of the bath.
Sat on the ground. Rubber duckie in hand, Jason plates Tim’s hair so it stays out of his face. Before dragging him off into the bedroom. Comfy clothes on. And then Jason, works on hiding the scars, and markings on his face. Adding make-up to make him look. Human. Normal. Like Tim. A dark presence, hangs in the living room.
Jason decides to make Tim some coffee, and himself some tea. Eying the man in their living room. He’s not looming in the corner, like Jason expected him to be, instead he’s observing everything. From the flowers the decorate every wall, to the photos hanging around them. Tim’s console and TV, because Jason doesn’t use it. Along with Jason’s bookcase.
This isn't going to be easy.