Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It all came to a head with one misclick.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen— Hell, anyone could have been better to accidentally call when he was bleeding out deliriously in a foreign warehouse that was strapped with enough C4 to wipe a small city off of the globe. He had meant to call Roy and he had meant to block the onslaught of bullets that rained over him like acid rain, but neither of those things happened.

Although in hindsight, if Jason had called Roy as intended, he’d probably be fucking dead. Again.

And if he had blocked those bullets? Well, he wouldn’t be having borderline homoerotic, teasingly painful phone calls with this fucking dense idiot every single day of his miserable, pent-up life for the last 3 months.

Now, because of his misclick and that garbled, equally horrifying, and hilarious conversation, he was being babysat by Tim Drake, of all fucking people.

To say he was pissed off about it was an understatement. A horrible, completely inaccurate understatement.

He’s been fighting with himself for the past however many weeks over it. He likes having the little freak in his ear— he’s not half bad when he’s not acting like an overprotective puppy on steroids. He’s fun to tease and equally fun to ridicule, creating some concerning fantasies in Jason’s head. Jason’s been trying to steer him in a similar direction, to see if they both can align like lock and key to finally open up some sort of magical door that leads them to another world of seemingly wonderful prosperity, but the motherfucker just won’t get it.

“On your right. Five of them, all strapped with bombs, coming down in a uniform line,” Tim’s saying into his ear, sounding cold about the fact.

Jason wants to bend him over to get him to shut the fuck up.

“Yes, I know,” Jason hisses in response. The explosives aren’t the problem and neither is the amount of these idiots barreling toward him with no plan other than to utilize brute force. No, he’s got a few other problems that he needs to solve.

The first problem is Tim won’t stop micromanaging him and hasn’t stopped micromanaging this entire case since Jason unintentionally invited him onto it. Dick really wasn’t joking when he said Tim was like a mini-Bruce, just somewhat better equipped to handle emotions. Somewhat. He’s different from Bruce in the way that Tim does things Bruce never did— he gets excited when Jason comes to him with better information, he thanks Jason whenever he does something without being asked, and he remembers shit. Not just shit about the case, either. He remembers Jason’s daily habits, his media interests, and his food preferences, and he makes it known in ways Jason pretends to not notice. Tim’s been getting really into Victorian literature lately, suspiciously enough, and even though Jason wants to strangle him for listening to audiobooks rather than reading a gorgeously loved paperback, he’ll take what he gets.

The second problem, and it’s the one that’s fucking with his mental, is that Jason likes it. Loves it, if he’s going to be brutally honest with himself. Tim’s nitpicky, observant, and downright sinister when he has a goal in mind, and apparently, his goal is to torment Jason by acting blasé about their sudden hyper-obsession with interpersonal communication.

The third problem is the fact that Tim has legitimately been a massive help to the case, which has only made Jason somehow more frustrated and more satisfied.

So he can’t ask the guy to step off and he can’t figure out if he even wants him to. What the fuck can he figure out?

Well, he can figure out if he wants Tim to leave him the fuck alone. He can figure out if he wants them to go back to before when they could barely stand each other without feeling nauseous in the other’s presence. Back when things were two-dimensional and everything was quid pro quo. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, etcetera. They could go back to that.

But who the fuck is he kidding? He figured everything out on the second call where Tim was ‘just checking in’ on him, as he had said, and Jason hadn’t immediately blown his brains out like a personalized broadcast of his own suicide that only Tim would have had the fortune of being exposed to. His brain had already decided that the hangup button was no longer an option with Tim and that every call would be answered, would be long, and would be hard. Just like him.

The bullets that Jason shoots now are silent and deadly accurate, and he likes to think that they’re each weighed down with a little bit of his own personal frustrations. They fire in such rapid succession that none of the poor unfortunate souls have any time to process that it’s happening, let alone react to it by activating their suicide bombs, which is both a blessing and a curse. More so a blessing because as badly as Jason wants to be out of this situation, he doesn’t really want to be dead again. Plus, now that he’s got Tim sitting on his shoulder pretending to be his angel of self-righteousness, he knows that even if he ended up dead it wouldn’t be for long— the dude would probably end up dragging him back through the Lazarus Pit just so he could be the one to kill Jason himself. 

Better yet, Jason doesn’t have to assume. He knows it would happen because Tim has already yelled at him multiple times about promising to drag his ass back to the living, even if it costs him another organ, so he better be fucking careful. Otherwise, Jason wasn’t going to hear the last of it.

Tim’s personality is just built like that and it scratches the part of Jason’s brain that secretly wants someone to be as obsessed with him as he is with them.

Stepping out from the darkness of the catwalk, Jason stares blankly at the bodies that now block his way on the high rise, feeling nothing other than annoyed at the inconvenience of how they all fell onto one another, making it difficult to get to the exit platform. He could grapple down, but that would land him smack dab in the middle of the political gala that’s happening below. He’d love to make a scene any other time but tonight he’s trying to get out as swiftly and silently as possible, so he can get back to his reconnaissance point and spend the night unwinding with his left hand.

“You sure they were strapped?” Jason asks as he toes at one of the corpses, turning it slightly to take a peak. “If they had set off any explosives, a lot of high-end politicians would have gone bye-bye, and I don’t think that’s our target’s MO.”

“I watched them gear up in another room,” Tim says, “They definitely are.”

There’s a slight pause before Tim weakly says, “Were.”

Jason rolls his eyes and lets the guy he was messing with thunk back against the grate flooring. The sound it makes is oddly hollow, for a body.

“They’re not bleeding,” Jason says, confused by the lack of blood he’s only now noticing.

“Don’t patronize me, Hood,” Tim spits, not understanding that Jason isn’t making a macabre joke right now, “I get it. You kill people. We already went over this—”

“No, Birdy,” Jason says quickly without registering the nickname, “I’m being serious. There’s no blood. Something’s wrong about these things.”

He crouches down and pokes at the corpse closest to him with the tip of his gun’s silencer and nearly jumps over the railing to escape the dirt and bugs that spill out.

“Jesus fucking Christ on a stick,” Jason hisses. He kicks frantically at the bugs near his feet and swats at the ones that crawl on his boots.

“Hood? What’s happening?” Tim asks with an edge to his voice, “What are you freaking out over?”

“The fucking bugs, man!” Jason says incredulously, “What the fuck do you mean?!”

“Hood, there are no bugs,” Tim says firmly, calmly, like he’s walked people through hallucinations multiple times before, “I’m turning your filter on. Get out of there, and whatever you do, don’t panic.”

Jason’s vision tunnels and he tries to locate a few different exit points, in case any of them end up not working out. Things don’t look good for him. “How the fuck— how the fuck am I not supposed to panic?!”

He’s panicking. He’s panicking and he doesn’t know why, which is only adding to the panic more. It’s diluting his senses, watering them down, and making them nothing worth relying on. He’s stuck up on this fucking catwalk with imaginary bugs and a body that’s taut like a rubber band about to snap and a voice in his ear that’s been driving him mad with desire for a quarter of a year.

This is fucked, to say the least.

“There’s a skylight above you,” Tim says, his voice oddly comforting, “It has a mechanical latch that I undid. You can crawl out without a show—”

The shattering of the window as Jason’s grapple punches through it cuts Tim’s words off.

Tim sighs as Jason soars through the air and breaks through the glass himself, freeing him from the gala and the bug show. Weren’t they kind of the same thing, though? They are in Jason’s mind.

“Or, make a scene, I guess,” Tim mumbles.

The night air doesn’t help Jason’s brain at all— he’s in some city in northeast China that he’s certain he butchers the pronunciation of any time he attempts to say it so he’s given up trying, and apparently, the air here has given up trying to be easily breathable and clear of smog. He awkwardly gulps in large breaths of shitty air as he rolls onto the building’s roof, trying to situate himself, but there’s something so, so off about him right now and it’s not from the glass shards that are piercing his leather jacket and cutting him open like a million and one paper cuts.

He’s panting harshly into his helmet that’s pressed into the gravel and he can feel how he’s got that weird tinge of warmth that buzzes under his skin whenever he’s hit by some sort of fucked up aphrodisiac that Ivy concocts. “Fuck, Birdy,” Jason whines.

He’s laying on the ground in a messy heap hoping and praying that Tim doesn’t have access to any of the security cameras he’s certain line the perimeter of the building’s rooftop. He’s a fucking mess and he feels like his brain has severed its corpus callosum, causing the two hemispheres to slide against each other with no friction and no ability to transmit any sort of communication to get him up and functioning.

“Hood, are you injured?” Tim asks, concerned.

“Not really, no,” Jason mumbles.

“Are you still seeing bugs? I’m not wired in through your helmet’s camera anymore so I can’t see shit.”

Well, at least he’s not checking any other cameras right now. 

Jason groans, “Yeah. I mean, no, I’m not seeing bugs. I’m just— I’m laying on the ground.”

“You sound hurt,” Tim says, concerned. He sounds so delicate and soft to Jason right now, it’s making the situation in his pants worsen.

It sounds like he cares about Jason. Truly cares.

“Birdy—” Jason starts.

“How can I help? I’m on the other side of the world but—”

“Jesus, Tim,” Jason moans. He can’t do this, he can’t fucking lay here with his stiff cock pressed into the ground and with Tim sounding so worried, and with his brain going into some sort of primitive state where all he can do is think about how badly he wants Tim under him so he can take care of him and help him relax a bit. The guy’s always so high-strung, Jason thinks Tim deserves an orgasm or two. Or five.

Whatever line of communication they were on suddenly cuts and a new one opens. Jason sighs a low whine at the millisecond of Tim’s absence.

“Jason, what the fuck—” Tim hisses, “—is going on?”

“Fuck, don’t sound like that,” Jason mumbles. He’s not even sure if Tim could hear him, let alone understand him.

There’s a pause before Tim slowly asks, “Like…what?”

Jason can hear the shift in his tone, the way Tim always changes from angry to curious in a flat second once his brain understands that there’s no immediate danger so he doesn’t need to be on the defense.

“All mean and mad and shit,” Jason mutters, “It’s so fucking hot, I can barely stand it.”

Tim sputters unintelligibly for a moment before finally whispering, “I— w-what?!”

Jason can feel himself getting more lost to whatever shit hit him a few moments ago, so he’s gotta get information to Tim now before this goes very, very south. “Must have been hit with an aphrodisiac or something, I don’t know, but I’m rock fucking hard and your voice is driving me more insane than usual and I swear to God if I don’t get somewhere soon I’m going to expose myself to all of China on this goddamn rooftop.”

Jason somehow finds it in himself to lift his body from the ground. It’s no easy feat and he sways a bit as he stands, but when he’s finally back to being vertical rather than horizontal he takes a deep breath and wills himself to start walking, even though his groin hurts like hell and his monkey brain is yelling at him to go find a hidden corner so he can jerk off in private.

“I’m— oh,” Tim whispers.

Honestly, Jason had momentarily forgotten Tim was on the other end of the line, as he was too focused on putting one foot in front of the other and ensuring that he didn’t start acting like a budding queer 13-year-old boy in the gym locker room. He’s already dealt with that before, he doesn’t want to do it again.

“Yeah, so, I need to get back fast so I can have some time to myself like I’ve been doing these last few weeks,” Jason says. He’s grappling and swinging between the buildings ignoring the cool sights and sounds in favor of just reaching his endpoint. He can be a tourist on his own time, not on borrowed time.

“I can… I can help with that,” Tim offers softly.

“No,” Jason says firmly. Even the idea of Tim doing anything with him right now makes him nauseous, despite his body’s arousal. “I’m fucking compromised and I don’t need a charity phone sex conversation.”

“It wouldn’t be charity,” Tim says quickly, “What if—”

Jason’s already ten blocks over from the gala, somehow. He must have auto-piloted at some point because he can see his rendezvous point coming up, with the window to his dinky little sublet being the only one illuminated on his level.

“No,” Jason growls, “If I’m gonna finally have phone sex with you, it’s gonna be when I’m clear-headed and not when I feel like I’m about to bust a nut from the slightest breeze against my balls. I can’t fully consent when I’m like this, capiche?”

He flies from one roof to his destination, making sure to grapple above his window but far enough to the left of it so that his feet land against the concrete of the building. He’s not really feeling inclined to be displaying his crotch against someone’s window, even if it is late at night and the probability of someone seeing him from the inside is next to none. His window was left unlocked and as Jason presses his palm firmly against the glass and slides it up, he comes to find it’s still in that state. He tumbles into the room with no grace, hitting the floor with a dull but powerful thud. Thank fucking God.

“Okay,” Tim says, sounding weird. If Jason's brain wasn’t so riddled right now, he’d think Tim almost sounds disappointed; he’s sure it’s just the drugs making him overanalyze Tim’s tone, desperate to find something to fantasize about. He almost relents and almost asks if it’s what Tim would want— if it would make him feel better— but he stops himself. Jason can’t go down that rabbit hole.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Jason says gruffly as he stands and starts ripping at the hidden latches to his suit, “Sleep well.”

“Um, thanks. You, too,” Tim mumbles before there’s the click that signals the line cutting.

“Fuck,” Jason hisses, his hand already cupping himself through his jeans, pressing hard against his dick. The pressure is barely enough but it feels okay and that’s all Jason’s brain registers before it goes completely offline.

“What are you doing?”

Jason raises an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of Tim. It’s been a full day since they’ve spoken.

It’s the first full 24 hours they haven’t talked in 3 months.

Jason grunts as he turns off his voice modulator. There’s no need to have it if it’s just Tim. “Hi to you, too.”

“Hi,” Tim says quickly and awkwardly. He clears his throat. “How are you feeling now?”

“Like a Georgia peach, honeypie,” Jason says sarcastically. He feels like fucking shit and he’s certain he’s feeling so bad because he hasn’t talked to Tim in one stupid day. He’s so attached to him and he didn’t even fucking realize it until he was suddenly gone.

“Sorry, I just—”

A small hiss whines from the fire that Jason’s been attending as it starts to move from his sheets to the clothes and toiletries he had thrown in the pile. If he accidentally made a bathroom bomb from the mixing of chemicals, who was he to blame? Little ol’ him was just trying to get rid of any leftover shit that the aphrodisiac may have attached itself to.

And he was not burning this shit as a means to eradicate any leftover embarrassment he felt about decorating his hideout’s mattress in a way only a blacklight would show.

“Don’t need no apology,” Jason mumbles. He pokes at the fire with a stick he found on the street. It catches fire on the tip and Jason tosses it in, satisfied with the way the flames are moving up but not spreading out.

“Jason—”

“Whatever happened to no names? I remember you ripping me a new one when I accidentally said yours a few weeks ago.”

Tim huffs, “This is a private line.”

Of course, it is. Knowing it’s a private line only means that this conversation is absolutely happening, even if Jason doesn’t want it to. Tim can’t let bygones be bygones, it seems.

“Fine, Timothy,” Jason says sarcastically, “Thanks for the apology. There. We can move on.”

“You’re just going to act like nothing happened?!” Tim asks incredulously, sounding wounded.

The fire crackles and pops and Jason stares at it, focusing his anger on imagining it exploding and engulfing him. Burning alive was more ideal than admitting he has attachment issues.

“Jay, I can’t— I can’t fix this if you don’t let me,” Tim sighs.

“Nothing to fix,” Jason says petulantly. He turns on his heel and walks to the pile of crap he brought with him to secure the fire. The fire blanket he found in the utility closet in the hallway of his rental is covered in characters he can’t read, but he saw the universal symbol for fire retardant so it must be that. “Can you read Mandarin?”

“What? No,” Tim replies with a scoff, “Okay, you’re just being an asshole right now. Call me back whenever you want to talk again, I guess.”

Panic shoots through Jason like lightning. He doesn’t want Tim to hang up, he’s finally got him back. Yes, it’s only been a single day, but it felt like a lifetime to him, okay? He can acknowledge that he doesn’t like it when his routine with Tim changes.

He can’t keep deflecting. He might as well just come out clean and shoot himself in the foot. At least he’ll go down with some dignity if he just admits to Tim that he likes him.

“Wait—” Jason sighs. He rolls his head back and groans dramatically at the sky, hating himself.

Tim mocks him by imitating the groan before saying, “No, Jason, I’m not dealing with racism tonight.”

Jason straightens his posture and looks around like he’s trying to find Tim. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Jason asks, confused, “Racism?”

There’s loud clicking in the background as Tim types away at something with force. His mechanical keyboard has always been loud but never this loud, so Jason absolutely knows he’s struck some sort of nerve, even without being able to see him.

“I’m fucking Vietnamese, asshole, not Chinese. Are you gonna call me the T slur next? Go ahead, say it if it’ll get some of your anger out. You wouldn’t be the first to say it to me,” Tim scoffs.

Now Jason’s extremely lost. “That— what?”

“You asked if I could read Mandarin,” Tim says plainly, “I’m not Chinese.”

“Uh,” Jason blinks quickly, filtering through the information he has stored in his head about Tim. He’s poured over his file multiple times— it definitely said he’s Chinese. And it definitely didn’t say he’s trans.

Tim huffs, “What?”

“I’m so fucking confused right now,” Jason says, shaking his head and ripping open the fire blanket. His mind is racing and he knows his best option right now is to shut up and let Tim talk, to not accidentally say more upsetting shit.

“Why?” Tim hisses.

Not good, not good. Okay, so being quiet isn’t the best option right now. Jason’s internal alarms are blaring and it’s difficult for him to tamper down the way his heart is pounding so hard that he can feel it in his throat.

“Your file says you’re Chinese,” Jason admits, feeling stupid for never putting two and two together about the fact that Tim doesn’t even look Chinese, “You should probably correct it.”

Tim stops typing.

Tim starts typing.

Jason waits for the inevitable—

“What the fuck?!” Tim asks, his voice pitching high at the end, signaling that he’s about to tip over from peeved to livid, “Why the fuck does it say I’m Chinese?”

Jason shrugs and throws the fire blanket over the flames that had begun to spread outward due to his negligence. Luckily it’s not powerful but Jason knows that playing with fire is extremely dangerous and he’s fucking stressed about too much all at once— Tim’s anger, the way the smog might cause some sort of combustion, the fact that he’s handling his own internal problems— so he doesn’t need to test fate anymore. He needs a fucking break. That’s truly what he needs.

“This is so fucking stupid,” Tim hisses lowly, his keys clicking in the background as he fixes his file.

“It— it also doesn’t say you’re trans,” Jason says cautiously. The fire’s out and he’s stepping on the blanket lightly, pretending that the bugs that haunted him from two nights ago are under it. The crunching of the ashes under his boot is a nice, realistic touch.

Tim remains silent. The typing has ceased again, this time with no follow-up.

Jason bites the inside of his cheek and finishes his duty of putting out his fire. “Thanks for telling me,” he finally settles on saying, figuring it’s best to not sidestep this conversation.

“I thought you knew,” Tim replies. He doesn’t sound upset by the fact that Jason didn’t know but he does sound cautious like he’s expecting Jason to have some sort of reaction. Whether he’s expecting a negative or positive reaction, Jason’s not sure.

In his mind, it doesn’t really matter, outside of the fact that he wants to be respectful of any of Tim’s boundaries surrounding this shit. But he’d be that way with anyone, regardless.

“Nope,” Jason says, popping the ‘p’ with forced nonchalance. He sweeps up the fire blanket into a ball and gathers as much of the soot as he can before disposing of it in a trash bag.

“Does it bother you?” Tim asks.

This question also sounds like he’s trying to force himself to sound relaxed despite the weight that it carries.

Jason ties a knot at the top of the trash bag with a little too much force, angry at the prospect that this question could possibly be answered ‘Yes’ by anyone. He’s not dumb, he knows how it’s answered with a resounding yes by a lot of people, but he’s not one of them. Never has been, never will be.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Jason grunts. The trash bag thumps lightly as he tosses it into a trash bin full of cigarette cartridges and beer bottles. He should have checked the cartridges to see if he could find any unopened ones to use on the street in exchange for some information. His Chinese is nothing short of deplorable but he was bound to find someone who spoke a language he knew so bartering with a free item would have definitely helped.

“Okay,” Tim sighs, sounding relieved by Jason’s answer.

Which, he probably is, and that only pisses Jason off more. Not that he’s angry at Tim for asking or for being worried about his answer. He’s angry at the reality of the world. It’s stupid but he’s allowed to feel mad.

“Can we talk about the other night?”

God, Tim really can’t let it go. Jason rolls his eyes and grabs for his own cigarette box from the inside of his jacket as he makes his way to the ledge of the building, leaning against the parapet. His helmet’s faceplate slides up with a harsh sound when he clicks a hidden button on the backside of it, revealing his face, exposing him to the winter humidity and smog. He plucks a stick and taps the end of it against the top of the box a few times, sticking it in his mouth. The click of his zippo’s flint wheel is a soothing, familiar sound, one that he honestly finds more solace in than the actual nicotine.

“Sure, Birdy,” Jason says tightly as he inhales the first drag and swings the zippo shut, “Not sure where you wanna start. So, take it away.”

The buildings around the one he was staying in are gorgeous and he’s a little mad that he’s leaving the area before he gets a chance to properly explore them. They’re all ranging in height and color and age, giving a weird mixture of unbalanced architectural scenery to the landscape. Jason actually really likes it, although he thinks it’s fucking stupid that the densely crowded apartment buildings are right next to a massive trash lot. It should be a park or something. For the kids that live in the apartments.

“I know you were compromised and— and I’m seriously sorry for trying to push against it. I wasn’t trying to pressure you, I thought I could help but obviously, now I understand how fucked up that was,” Tim says in a tone that sounds mixed between apologetic, desperate, and embarrassed. Most of all, he sounds sincere, which is throwing Jason for a loop.

“If it happens again, I won’t handle things the way I did,” Tim continues, “I’ve learned from my mistake and I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable.”

Jason takes a couple of drags from his cigarette, mulling over the apology. It’s a decent one, one where Tim isn’t explicitly asking for forgiveness nor is he putting any blame on Jason for the way he reacted to the situation. It’s a nice change of pace from the way most people apologize to him, if they even do.

“S’all good,” Jason says, his words slurring a bit as he balances his cigarette between his lips, “Didn’t bother me too much.”

“It bothered me,” Tim immediately replies, “A lot.”

Jason rolls his eyes and scoffs, “So is this apology for you or for me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tim pushes back, “It’s for you. It’s not about me.”

“Then let it go,” Jason says, “I said it’s all good. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t say that. So let’s move on from it.”

There’s a bit of a pause as Tim processes Jason’s words. They’re blunt but they aren’t harsh. At least, they aren’t harsh in Jason’s mind. He’s not exactly known for being a nice one, though.

“Alright,” Tim finally says. His typing starts back up.

Jason raises an eyebrow. His cigarette is down to the filter and it’s starting to taste more like burnt oil than anything good, so he puts it out against the parapet flashing, uncaring that it leaves a little black burn mark. Good, something for the building to remember Jason by.

“Is that why you didn’t call yesterday?” Jason asks as he flicks the butt over the side. It’s about a million stories down but he doesn’t care where the end of it lands. It’ll probably get caught in the wind and lose most of its velocity before it reaches the ground, anyway.

“I wasn’t sure if you were mad or not,” Tim replies.

“So you decided to just abandon and ignore me?”

The question is out quicker than Jason processes it and he grits his teeth as soon as his brain catches up to his mouth. God, at least he didn’t sound too desperate about it.

“Are you— were you disappointed?”

Jason shrugs. After a second of silence, he remembers Tim can’t see him so he has no idea what Jason’s doing. “Maybe,” he admits barely above a whisper.

Tim hums, considering something before he starts typing again. The white noise of the keys clicking is another sound Jason finds solace in. He’s gotten so used to it because Tim’s always fucking doing it, somehow. It’s like he’s stuck in front of his damn computer 24/7, bound to it for some god-awful reason.

Something in Jason’s brain clicks together and he crosses his arms, his brows furrowing from the sudden epiphany.

There’s no way.

“Are you fucking benched?” Jason asks with disbelief.

“What?”

Jason shakes his head and leans back against the parapet, crossing one of his ankles over the other. “You’re fucking benched,” he repeats, growing more bewildered by the realization the longer it sits with him, “That’s why you’ve been in my ear these past months. What injury’s got you out for three fucking months?”

“It…” Tim hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

But, much like Tim, Jason can’t let bygones be bygones, and he sure as fuck can’t let this one go. It’s sparked that part of him that every Robin has. The part that needs answers and if he can’t get one out of Tim easily, he’ll go looking for it. And Tim knows this.

“It wasn’t an injury, not really,” Tim admits with a hint of reservation.

So, seems like Jason’s going to have to push for an answer. Got it.

“Oh?” Jason asks, teasingly, “What, finally gave up on the vigilante lifestyle? Wanted to be a normie, for a bit? I’ve gotta say, I think you’d make a wonderful cashier if you want to drop the CEO title, too.”

Tim doesn’t laugh, which makes Jason raise an eyebrow and reconsider his angle on how to get a real answer out of Tim. The jabbing jokes Jason makes usually get some sort of answer out of Tim because they rile him up in the right way, but not this time it seems. So it must be something pretty serious.

Jason decides on his next approach.

“Talk to me, Birdy,” Jason sighs, “Let’s start with the basics. How long you out for?”

“Six months.”

Jason nearly jumps off of the building from the surprise that rockets through him. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes. Now he’s graduated from curious to perturbed. Six months? Six fucking months? He’s never heard of any of them being benched for that long, no matter how many gunshot wounds, stab wounds, and-or other weaponry wounds they’ve sustained, even if they’re sporting a mixture of all of them. 

The anxiety that’s running through his veins causes him to pull out another cigarette. “What the fuck happened?!”

“I…”

Tim groans and the noise makes Jason grimace. He isn’t sure he’s ready for the answer but he’s gotten this far already so he can’t turn back now. Whatever he’s about to hear isn’t going to be pretty. He anxiously lights his cigarette and downs the first half of it in one pull as he waits.

“I had a really bad mental breakdown. Full-blown psychosis attack and everything, too. I was seeing shit and screaming and kept attacking Dick and Bruce and even fucking Alfred. I was completely, totally detached from reality. I don’t really remember much of it but…but I locked myself in my apartment and really only came to cause I had an alarm on my phone for my T shot, and that grounded me for some reason.”

Jason’s breathing becomes shallower the more Tim explains the situation. They’ve all had their fair share of bad mental health days or weeks, but they’re usually pretty okay about it, all things considered. This lifestyle wasn’t exactly meant for anyone with a brain that functions normally but it definitely didn’t cause episodes like that for anyone else. Not unless there was some outside force swaying their grip on reality, like Jason was dealing with a few nights ago.

“Jesus,” Jason finally mutters after taking a moment to process, “That sounds like hell. Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Tim sighs, “It was pretty bad. They gave me six months off to like, go to therapy and do normal things to help recalibrate, I guess.”

Therapy. What a concept. “Has it been working?” Jason asks, truly concerned. He had no idea that Tim was dealing with this shit the entire time they’ve been talking and now he feels like a selfish asshole. Tim’s not his responsibility but he still wants to…

Wants to what, exactly? Be a friend? Help him through this? Take care of him?

Jason knows the answer to all of those questions.

“I don’t know,” Tim answers honestly, “That’s the first and only time I’ve ever done something like that. Maybe there’s more hidden in me somewhere.”

Now this— this is familiar to Jason. He remembers going through this mental battle after he came to, once his mind was cleared from the fuckery of coming back to life. The mental battle was rough and he technically won the war but not without a lot of scarring that he’s slowly been chipping away at with mild to moderate success.

“How’d Dick take it? The verdict, I mean,” Jason asks.

“He’s the one who made the call,” Tim says, and the answer somehow surprises Jason but also, it doesn’t. “He handled it, mostly. Gave me some advice then sent me off.”

Jason rolls his eyes and half-jokingly asks, “Yeah? And what advice about mental health did he give you?”

“Get rest. Get therapy. Get laid. The usual Dick Grayson cocktail,” Tim says with a bit of resentment in his tone.

“Wow. Awesome job Dickie, you cured him,” Jason says sarcastically.

Tim chuckles and the sound of it makes Jason’s heart rate pick up in a good way. He’s coming out of the woods with this one, at least.

“Totally,” Tim says, still chuckling a bit. He heaves a heavy sigh and Jason can imagine him sitting in his apartment in the dark, surrounded by computer screens and not much else.

“Are you eating?” Jason asks, scared of the idea that Tim’s starving himself throughout this, “I don’t want to sound like a mama bear but that’s a piece of advice Dick forgot to give you.”

“Um,” Tim says, “Sure.”

“‘Sure’ is not an adequate answer,” Jason huffs, “It’s too open to interpretation. Give me a yes or a no.”

“Ugh, fine,” Tim groans, “Not really, no. I get shitty takeout but it makes me feel worse so sometimes I just don’t eat.”

Great. That’s exactly what Jason didn’t want to hear but expected to hear. He huffs more, knowing full well he’s about to start fussing over Tim’s terrible eating habits.

“You’ve gotta eat, Birdy, otherwise your brain won’t heal right,” Jason instructs, feeling the mothering instinct in him kicking in in full force, “And it can’t be snacks from the fucking 7-Eleven down the street, either. I mean, real food. A full, balanced meal. Start with one a day then move up to two and three is the goal, although if you have a light lunch or something that isn’t the end of the world.”

“ Fine,” Tim replies with an attitude. Despite the attitude, he doesn’t push back against Jason’s fussing, which is a silver lining amongst the otherwise depressing conversation.

“Send pictures, too,” Jason says absentmindedly, “I want proof that you’re having actual meals.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” Tim asks, his attitude still heavy in his tone.

“Not about this, no,” Jason shrugs. Again, he’s blunt but he’s not harsh. The truth doesn’t have to hurt but it has to be the truth.

“Okay, okay, I will. I promise.”

Jason smiles a triumphant grin. He’s excited for this new development in their…whatever it is they have going. Their friendship? Jason guesses that it’s fine to call it that. He talks to Tim way more often than Roy and he considers Roy his best friend, so that’s got to mean something.

A sharp stinging bites at Jason’s finger and he remembers the half-smoked cigarette that’s been burning between his fingers, completely forgotten about. He hisses as he flicks it away from him, not bothering to put it out. The end burns out and a lone trail of smoke blows from the tip, undisturbed by any wind.

Jason looks at his watch, which is still set to Gotham’s timezone. He meant to adjust it accordingly but he’s been busy, and so what if he secretly kept it to Tim’s time so he could monitor how late the other stayed up with him? It was easy to forget that sometimes it’s 3AM on Tim’s side of the world when it’s daylight in China.

“It’s 4AM for you, Birdy,” Jason points out, “Go get some rest.”

Tim makes a displeased noise and it does something funny to Jason’s chest. “I’m already laying down,” Tim says. He yawns a bit and sleepily says, “Just talk to me until I fall asleep.”

As badly as Jason wants to, he knows he can’t. “Talking will keep you up, I know how you are,” Jason says fondly. Oh, brother, he sounds like a fucking sap and he’d be hating it if Tim wasn’t sounding so happy talking to him. “We’ll talk when you wake up. I should be back by then. Just call me whenever.”

Tim hums, “Okay.”

“And remember, send a picture,” Jason reminds him sternly, “I want to make sure you’re eating.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim chuckles dismissively, “I’ll send something.”

Feeling okay with the response, Jason nods. He rolls his eyes, remembering that Tim can’t see him. “Cool. Talk to you in the morning.”

“Promise?” Tim asks. For some reason, he sounds anxious about hanging up which, again, does something funny to Jason’s chest and scratches that part of his brain that he knows isn’t the healthiest.

“I promise,” Jason says, feeling like he’s going to throw up rainbows and butterflies.

It’s so dumb, it’s so dumb, but he can’t fucking help it. He’s got a schoolgirl crush on this guy and he doesn’t care that he’s a grown ass man, he’s fucking delighted by it.

“Okay. Good night.”

The line clicks and Jason exhales. What a weird night. Much better than the last two nights, at least.

The picture Tim sends when he wakes up is not what Jason had meant when he said “Send a picture.”

The night had been a long one, with a 3-hour taxi trip in between when he hung up with Tim and when he arrived at his new place, followed by another trip to pick up a select piece of hardware from some drugged-out techie that Roy had sworn was alright, followed by yet another all too cozy cab trip to his actual desired destination for the night’s work. The trips themselves were stressful enough, and it didn’t help that in the last leg of the chaos Jason had been chauffeured by a woman who seemed to love the brake pedal more than she did her husband. He never wanted to see the inside of another little yellow taxi cab ever again.

Beijing was a whole different world from Gotham, one he could honestly see himself settling down in for at least a year. It has qualities like Gotham that are very, very loosely similar, and it makes him a little homesick. Was he grasping at straws to find something he knew, so he could feel a sense of familiarity on this side of the globe? Maybe. But he missed Gotham like he missed certain aspects of his childhood— they were both rotten and they were both what defined him intrinsically. Cities always had things in common and Beijing and Gotham weren’t exceptions to this.

The biggest thing they had in common? The crime. Next? The corrupt politicians. 

He had successfully bugged a hotel’s ballroom with the tech he had acquired before some world leaders had their very late evening meeting in it, and he, unfortunately, learned that politicians are a bunch of wing nuts who have absolutely no understanding of how the world actually works. They represent only themselves, as apparent by the meeting. Guess the world has all of that in common.

Even with his relatively poor understanding of Mandarin, he could make out a good chunk of the conversation from context clues provided by other leaders who spoke languages he did know. He felt like he had struck fucking gold when the prime minister of Portugal and the president of Honduras spoke in their native tongues, both of which Jason knows fluently, and those two loved to talk. He picked up a lot of information from them, he should be sure to send them flowers, as a thank you.

His notes were littered with keywords and peppered with new terminology he wanted to look up once he got back to his hotel room. A few things were new to him, even in the languages he spoke, so he’d need Tim to do some research for him while he slept. Something about the annexation of countries and border-splitting treaties, he didn’t fucking know, but he was sure Tim could read about it and understand it faster than he could. That was the only positive thing about their time zones having a 13-hour gap— when one was asleep, the other could be awake, working. It made it feel like they were a well-oiled 24-hour machine.

When he returned to his room and opened his phone to message Tim, the fucking picture he had waiting for him in his encrypted messages was not what he was expecting to see. It caught him so off guard that he tripped a bit as he tried to slide off his boots.

“What the fuck,” Jason whispers down to his shoes and socks, fumbling his laces with shaky hands as his head whirrs. He gathers himself before he walks over to the bed and sits on the edge of it, still confused. He contemplates his next move, unsure if he has hallucinated the picture because it was honestly too catered to him to be real, he thinks.

Deciding that he might as well double-check the validity of the image, he slides open his phone and opens up his messages again. Sure enough, it’s there, and it’s very real.

The photo is from Tim, of course, but it’s from his real ass private phone number that Jason only has because Tim had rooted into his phone and added it himself. It’s not a photo of a meal. Not really.

It’s of him standing in front of an elegant full-length body mirror, showing off his long legs and looking disheveled and downright adorable. He’s looking at his phone and not the mirror with a bit of a pout, hiding his chin behind his hand that is covered by a large sleeve. Somehow, the lighting is perfect and the camera captures small details like the way his hair sticks up, the sharp angles of his bare ankles, and even the scars that litter his upper thighs, which are exposed under the oversized hoodie he sports.

It’s Jason’s hoodie. Besides the size of it being the most obvious hint to help him realize it’s his, it’s got the Red Hood insignia embroidered across the chest, and it has cigarette burn marks in all the right places. It’s definitely his and it definitely was never given to Tim by Jason.

The little fucker must have broken into his apartment and stolen it.

Normally something like this would send him into a rage, knowing that somehow Tim got around all of his apartment’s security, but this photo…this photo is sending him down a completely different path.

He clicks the call button.

Two rings in and Jason hears Tim’s voice, groggy with sleep and sounding as delighted as a cat naturally waking up from a nap in the sun. “Hi. Morning,” Tim sighs contentedly, “How was the night? Did you scope out that meeting?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Jason says softly, “That’s not what I’m calling about.”

Tim hums. There’s the scraping of what Jason thinks is fabric against the phone’s receiver as he rolls over, presumably to get out of bed. A couple of pops ring out on the other side and Tim moans. The noise shoots right to Jason’s crotch and he knows his face is flushing and his eyes are dilating from just that.

He wonders if Tim’s wearing the hoodie now. If he wore it to sleep. If he was wearing it last night when they were talking.

“Really? Then what are you calling about?”

Jason can hear the smirk in his voice, the way he’s trying to get an answer wrung out of Jason, pulling on his ends and twisting tightly to wring him dry. His dick is getting harder and his brain is getting foggier but he’s not going to give in that easily.

Two can play this game.

“You jerked off in that thing, yet? Cause I can tell you, I definitely have.”

Tim huffs out a small “ah” at Jason’s confession. Jason smirks, feeling positively evil about it, and he palms himself through his jeans, nearly to the point where he needs to be.

“No,” Tim answers softly, “But I can.”

“Do it,” Jason says, his tone firm and demanding, “Now.”

“Fuck,” Tim whispers. Jason can hear him scramble out of bed and pad over somewhere in his bedroom, presumably to grab the sweater. There’s a small thump as Tim places the phone down, and while Tim’s getting the jacket on, Jason undoes his own belt and kicks off his pants and underwear with record speed.

Tim’s voice comes in a bit clearer when he says, “Now what.”

He’s got that edge to his voice that’s mean, the one Jason goes crazy for. He’s deadpan in a way that Jason can only do when he’s got a gun to someone’s head and right now, in a glorious way, he feels like he’s on the receiving end of Tim’s barrel.

“Any chance of someone walking in on you?”

“No,” Tim immediately replies, “Only Steph knows about this studio and she’s busy finishing college, so she never comes unannounced.”

“Great,” Jason growls. There’s a swell of possessiveness that grows in his chest and makes his cock leak at the idea of Tim devoting his morning to him. “That means I’ve got you all to myself for the time being.”

Tim inhales sharply but doesn’t put up a fight, only turning Jason on more. He swears he can feel his heartbeat in his dick as he wraps his hand around it and gives a few quick, rough strokes to get him fully hard. Not that he wasn’t already but it’s always good to ensure.

Jason grunts a bit at the feeling of his thumb circling the head of his cock, spreading some of his precum. He’s not normally this responsive or quick to be riled up but knowing that Tim’s finally on the same wavelength as him has turned him weak.

“Alright, Birdy, confessional time,” Jason purrs, “Let me get in that brain of yours and figure out how your controls work.”

Tim lets out a small whine. “What do you want to know?” he asks softly, sounding lost.

Jason snorts, “Well, I’m sure you’re a top, with your control issues—”

“I’m not,” Tim says immediately, his voice gaining a different type of edge, the same edge it had the night before when he felt apprehensive about Jason’s response to finding out his transness.

Jason’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he releases a satisfied groan that has nothing to do with the way his strokes gain speed. “Fuck yes,” Jason whispers.

“I like— I like being told what to do,” Tim confesses softly.

Jason can picture him vividly in his mind, standing in the middle of his bedroom— studio apartment, apparently— in Jason’s hoodie, waiting for instruction, wanting to be guided by Jason rather than by his own desires. The fantasy itself is almost too much for Jason.

“What are you wearing?”

Tim makes a noise of confusion, “The hoodie.”

“Anything else?” Jason asks. He’s sure the answer is going to be—

“No.”

Bingo.

“Get on the bed,” Jason says, focusing on the words more than imagining Tim following his instruction, “Get comfortable. I want you to relax and have a good time during this.”

“O-okay. Bed. Right,” Tim mutters. For someone who wants to be told what to do, Jason thinks he sounds oddly shy about it.

The shyness itches that area in his brain, the part of Robin he’s never been able to rid himself of. He knows there’s a reason for Tim’s behavior and he needs an answer.

“You ever done this before?”

The resounding silence is an answer in and of itself.

Just as Jason’s about to put a pause on things to talk stuff over, to make sure Tim’s ready for this without feeling pressured, Tim sighs, “I’m not a virgin but I’ve never…”

Jason waits and makes a questioning hum, encouraging Tim to finish the sentence at his own pace. He’s gone a bit soft in his hand, unfortunately, but that can be a problem he resolves later when things aren’t muddy. He wouldn’t be able to finish knowing Tim’s discomfort, anyway.

Tim grunts, “You were right, I’ve never given up control before. Not totally.”

Jason exhales a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Thank God the dude isn’t a virgin, that would have been a whole other mess to clean up in the future once they have their fallout.

Jason furrows his brows. He’s not sure where that idea came from. That’s something to psychoanalyze later.

“Practice makes perfect,” Jason says, tossing his thoughts away for the moment, “Let’s start now. Get on the bed and lay back, like how you do whenever you’re alone.”

“I don’t—”

Jason groans, “Do not tell me you don’t masturbate.”

“I do! I do,” Tim says quickly, “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

Jason raises a brow. “What happened to the confidence when you sent me that pic?”

“I don’t— I don’t know,” Tim says, clearly frustrated, “I don’t even know if you actually liked it.”

“Of course I did,” Jason says, surprised by Tim’s lack of self-esteem, “You looked fucking great. Like you somehow got into my brain and pieced together a lot of things I get off to.”

“You didn’t say you liked it,” Tim says defensively.

Jason supposes he’s right, he didn’t exactly say he liked it. In fact, he probably sounded pissed off about it, rather than surprised and excited. Shit.

“You’re right, let's start over,” Jason sighs, hoping he hasn’t completely destroyed the mood by being a fucking abrasive idiot, “You look fucking great in my hoodie, Birdy. How’d you get it?”

“I stole it,” Tim replies easily.

Good, he sounds much more like himself. Jason wants the mean edge back and he thinks he can have it if he plays this game right. “I’m surprised you got past my security,” Jason says, egging Tim on to defend his smarts.

Tim scoffs.

Jason grins. Perfect.

“It wasn’t that difficult,” Tim says and Jason can practically hear him rolling his eyes, “I know how you are. You work in threes, so I knew you’d have three different systems running in certain cadences. It doesn’t take a genius to—”

“To do a little B&E just to steal a hoodie?” Jason suggests with a smirk. He’s starting to get hard again, the teasing burning under his skin. “You would have had to disable two different alarms and make sure the fingerprint system didn’t store your information and immediately notify me. You really went through all of that? That’s dedication, baby.”

Tim makes a high-pitched noise when he’s called baby and Jason feels a flicker of panic in his chest before he understands that the noise is a positive one. So, Tim likes pet names, that’s perfect. Jason can easily work with that since he has an inclination for them.

“Y-yeah,” Tim pants, his voice breathy and much lower than it was a moment ago.

Jason’s dick is back on board with the situation and his brain is starting to slip into that zone again, the zone he gets into when he’s really, really getting into things. He lets out a barely audible grunt as his hand starts moving again.

“I thought… I wanted to do it for a while,” Tim admits, “I just didn’t know until you were…compromised.”

The way he says the last word sounds pained and Jason can tell he still carries some sort of guilt about it. He doesn’t want him to feel bad about anything right now. “Really? Huh,” Jason replies, steering clear of talking about the other night, “I’ve been trying to get you to do this with me for months,” he considers how Tim needed praise earlier, so he adds, “I’m glad you’re on board, now, holy fuck.”

“Months?” Tim asks.

Jason closes his eyes and moans before quickly saying, “Yeah, months, Birdy.”

“Me, too,” Tim whispers.

Jason pauses his movements for a second. What the fuck? He had absolutely no idea that Tim had been trying the same thing. Zero. Nada. Rien. Whatever language a person wants to use, Jason simply didn’t know at all.

“You weren’t getting it and it was making me lose my mind. I tried so hard to get you to understand but you’d dodge the conversation every single time,” Tim whines petulantly, his voice pitching in different tones as he pants through his sentences.

Jason can hear something in the background, and he nearly cums on the spot when his brain registers the noise as a vibrator’s buzzing.

Jesus.

“Are you using a vibrator?” Jason asks, making sure to keep his tone curious and not accusatory.

Tim hums and the noise gets louder after a few clicks ring out. He makes a surprised little gasp and Jason wants to shoot himself on the spot.

“I didn’t tell you to start using that,” Jason teases. His dick is throbbing and his balls feel tight and he can feel the buildup threatening to become something explosive, so he chases that high by squeezing his fist a little tighter as he imagines Tim rocking into a vibrator, desperate for it to be more.

“Don’t care,” Tim pants, “I can’t— I couldn’t wait.”

Looks like Tim’s trying to be in control of the pace of the conversation, moving it along at his whims. Jason’s not averse to the idea of it because he wants Tim to gain trust with him, but knowing that Tim has trouble giving up control even during sex makes him want to fight for it back, to take it from Tim.

But things can get a bit tricky with that and Jason’s definitely not in the position to scare off Tim. Maybe one day he’ll be comfortable enough with Jason to relax but for now, Jason will work with what he’s got. And he’s finally got Tim on the line with him in a way he’s been trying to get for a long time.

“So what’s stealing my clothes got to do with it? You got some sort of klepto thing?” Jason half-jokes. He thinks he could get into that, maybe, if Tim’s into it.

“No. It smells like you,” Tim whispers, “Easier to imagine you here. And now it’s mine to use when I jack off.”

That was not what Jason was expecting him to say. “Jeez— Jesus, Birdy,” Jason pants, his hips bucking up hard into his fist. The idea of Tim thinking about him while touching himself is flattering enough, but knowing that Tim wanted to go the extra step to have something tangible that would make his fantasies even more realistic nearly sends Jason over the edge. He wishes he had something of Tim’s and he remembers the photo. He wonders if he can get more of them.

“I like when you call me that,” Tim says, “I wish I had a nickname for you like that.”

“No, don’t,” Jason says. He sounds fucking wrecked and he’s seriously afraid he’s going to reach his endpoint before Tim reaches his, “Say my name, that’s my favorite.”

“Jason,” Tim immediately whines, “Please.”

The breathy little beg Tim gifts him makes him snap— it’s too much, and it causes him to spill into his hand, the orgasm ripping up his spine and pushing a harsh grunt from his throat. “Birdy, fuck, Jesus, please,” he pants through the aftershocks and drags his fist through the mess, overstimulating himself and losing track of his mouth, “Come on, cum for me, I wanna hear you while you think about me fucking you in that hoodie, pressing your face into your mattress and pounding you so hard that you fucking break.”

“Jason, shit,” Tim whines before letting out a few unintelligible words that Jason can only assume translate to him cumming. He makes a few more whining noises in his throat and lets out a mewl before there’s a click and the vibrator turns off.

“Holy fuck,” Tim pants, his breathing harsh and uncontrolled as he comes down from his high.

“Yeah, Birdy,” Jason whispers. His stomach is a mess and he’s grossed out by it, now that his brain is back in his body and he’s recovered from his orgasm.

“That was— woah,” Tim huffs a laugh and moans softly.

Jason raises an eyebrow, “Yeah? You liked it? Good first time?”

He feels like he’s fucking interrogating Tim with how he rapidly fires off his questions and he can’t help it, he needs confirmation that Tim had as good of a time as he did. He looked it up once and read something about Top Drop, but he didn’t really know if that fit him for this situation specifically.

“Definitely,” Tim says, sounding sincere and determined with his answer, “I had a good time. I don’t think I’ve gotten off that hard in an embarrassingly long time.”

Jason’s brain latches onto that and any sort of nervousness he felt moments ago disappears. Good, he’s beyond ecstatic that Tim enjoyed himself. Maybe it’s the happy chemicals in his brain that push Jason to try his luck. “Maybe if you keep sending pictures we can keep this thing going,” he suggests slyly.

Tim hums a content sound. “That can easily be arranged,” he replies, and it’s in that very second that Jason just knows he’s absolutely fucked.

Three weeks pass by and everything changes in a positive way. They continue their daily calls like usual, discussing developments in the case with each night that passes, along with the added bonus of dirty talk thrown into their casual conversations, since Jason now understands that when Tim is suggesting things it isn’t made up in his head. It’s real, it’s from Tim, and it’s fucking awesome.

Sometimes their calls lead to a lot more than passive dirty talk, sometimes they don’t. It depends on the night and how things line up for both of them, and so far, it hasn’t lined up to where Tim gives Jason total control. It’s a little disappointing if Jason’s going to be honest, but it doesn’t really matter too much to him. What truly matters to Jason is now that this thing is no longer an elephant in the room for them, they actually make ridiculous progress with the case, cracking it open perfectly like an egg whose yolk stays intact. It’s almost as if the post-nut clarity is hitting them both.

Along with the progress they make on the case, Jason’s making progress with Tim and finding out what he likes and doesn’t like. He likes being told what to do like he had said, but he hadn’t said he likes being bullied, and Jason found that one out by accident when Tim had decided to call him during a fight and got off to Jason yelling at him to hang up and call back when he was less occupied. 

That was an interesting experience, to say the least. And an interesting conversation they had the day after about boundaries and fantasies and their past sexual encounters.

After that, Tim started sending pictures more frequently, growing bolder with each one. They always came to Jason at random times, like Tim just always knew how to take the best fucking photos of himself at the drop of a hat. Some of them were downright filthy and catered to Jason so well that he was starting to think Tim was tracking the type of porn he watches. Watched. He hasn’t really been watching anything since he’s had Tim providing a much better, more individualized service to him that he’s highkey obsessed with, so even if Tim was tracking it he wouldn’t find anything recent.

No matter what, everything Tim sent him had him desperately fisting himself not too long after receiving it. His favorites were the less blatant nudes— and Tim easily adjusted to his preferences once Jason mentioned them, sending pictures that were more secretly suggestive and innocent looking to anyone else that wasn’t Jason. Some of them looked like the first ever picture Tim had sent, and some of them were of him lounging in angles that were akin to a voyeur’s point of view, with his legs a little too spread and his clothes a little too flattering. Those were the ones that had him calling Tim immediately, chastising him as he talked down to Tim and called him a filthy little tease that pretended to not know what he was doing. And Tim always came hard on those calls, begging Jason to forgive him around tearful pleas that would rip a shouted orgasm out of him.

The best part about everything was the lack of awkwardness between them before, during, and after their scenarios. They both enjoyed what they were doing and they fell into their respective roles easily, never really caring about their own pride. Jason loved giving and Tim loved receiving, and it didn’t matter what the roleplay setting was, they both got pretty fucking invested. Jason felt like he had struck platinum, gold, silver, and every other precious metal in the world all at the same time with Tim.

Because of how nice the pictures Tim had been sending were, it had made Jason a bit self-conscious about sending his own. He didn’t really know how to manipulate the camera the way Tim did, and he fucking tried, but everything looked really bad compared to what he thought Tim deserved. Looking online was absolutely no help, either. What the fuck kind of nudes were appealing for people with a body type like his? It made sense for Tim to know how to take pictures well cause he was all lean and curvy in areas that were accentuated easily with a hip jut or with spread legs, but Jason didn’t really know how his body could be photographed in a sexy way. Not by him, at least.

It was more of an internal struggle than anything. Tim hadn’t asked for any pictures and he seemed more than content with the calls he and Jason were having, but some sort of paranoia rooted itself into Jason’s chest that made him think that Tim would eventually get bored of this and ask for more, which Jason wanted to provide but didn’t know how. He guessed he could ask Tim if that conversation came up.

Tonight wasn’t going to be a night they had any type of talk, though.

Jason was poised to be a representative of Gotham’s elite, having delicately created an entire subsection of the internet to his generational wealth. He had to be a Wayne on the internet’s digital paper to make it seem believable, and after that detail was ironed out, the rest was pretty easy for him to craft. It was a pretty plain story in his mind; he grew up as an estranged cousin to Bruce, built his own mini-conglomerate that was eventually bought out by Wayne Enterprises, shifted from active CEO to executive board member, dipped his toes into the politics of Gotham, then became entrenched in them. He even made a bunch of fake judicial files of his police records being exonerated from multiple crimes involving some underaged escorts and hard drugs. The usual shit that politicians pretend they hide well.

The gathering he was currently in was boring but the food was great, at least. Walking around, he wished Tim was with him, but he’d been doing a lot of that lately, especially since now he’s been carrying him around in his ear at all hours of the day. Tonight was no exception, as Jason had slipped the nearly invisible headset into his right ear since he wasn’t able to don his usual Red Hood mask. Tim wasn’t even on the line that Jason had opened earlier in the evening, seeing as it was nearing 7AM in Gotham which was prime Tim sleeping time, and he probably wouldn’t be on it at all throughout the gala, but Jason wanted the thing in his ear just in case.

He kept up friendly conversations with the politicians he knew, but there were a lot of them present, so he was concentrating hard on remembering names and faces and countries and positions that he barely knew existed in different legislations. All alcohol was off-limits for him but he carried around a glass that he’d empty every now and again, to keep up appearances. It was all a game that was growing old, fast. He always hates this part of his missions. He just wants to blow up the damn building.

Jason’s passing by a table of some of his main targets when he overhears the president of Kenya give a low chuckle, “Can you believe that he’s trying to annex subsections of the Congo in order to make this deal run smoother? It’s absolutely absurd.”

“He’s ambitious, I’ll give him that much,” someone else that Jason doesn’t recognize chimes in with a demeaning chuckle, “I believe it has something to do with his sister. She’s rather fond of west Africa, for unknown reasons.”

“Sister?” another man asks, “I wasn’t aware he had a sister.”

That catches his ear. Jason stops one of the cater-waiters and quietly asks, “Do you speak English?”

“Woah,” the cater-waiter responds, “I do, actually. Since when do Americans come to these things?”

“I’ll pay you $500 to stand here and look like you’re talking to me,” Jason says in a hushed tone, flashing a few hundred at him, “Act natural about it, too.”

“Benjis don’t mean shit in Beijing,” the waiter whispers back, “Don’t you know the state of the market? No one’s exchanging shit right now. Banks are stalled by the government until further notice.”

“Five of these is worth much more than the yuan I have on hand,” Jason replies, annoyed by the pushback, “It’s either these or a thousand yuan. Your choice.”

The waiter looks at him with consideration and shrugs, dropping the attitude and turning polite. “I’ll take the yuan. I’m desperate to pay rent and these gigs don’t always pay on time,” he says with a smile, already sliding into the act that Jason needs him to display.

Jason almost slips up by saying he understands the feeling, but he remembers the suit and tie he’s wearing to portray the character he built for the gala, so he refrains. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and hands the money to the waiter easily, making it look like nothing conspicuous.

He’s about to ask the waiter about something easy and dumb, maybe about the local dives that a man like him could explore in this bustling city, just anything that he can half pay attention to while he eavesdrops on the conversation he actually cares about, but the guy beats him to it.

“There’s always one of you around here,” he says with a natural smile, giving a small wave to another waiter that looks at him with an annoyed look, “And y’all always stop me. I’d be worried about getting caught but the money’s too good to pass up.”

“Anyone here tonight?” Jason asks absentmindedly. He’s now used to paying attention to multiple conversations at once, although he much prefers the ones Tim has with him while he’s working.

The table they’re stopped by, the one that caught his attention, has now devolved into low whispers and mutterings that Jason can only make out because he’s concentrating very, very hard on it. They’re discussing something about the prime minister of China having a gap in his political and personal background that just doesn’t line up with the person they know. Something about being too well groomed, which Jason finds hysterical, seeing as how everyone here is dressed to the nines in some of the finest swag Jason will probably ever be exposed to.

“Oh, yeah,” the waiter says with a nod. He adjusts his stance so that he’s standing next to Jason rather than in front of him, with his hands cradling the serving tray flatly against his hips in a way that looks natural to anyone who isn’t looking hard enough. “This table we’re standing next to,” he tilts his head a fraction of an inch towards the group Jason is interested in, “Only three of the seven are real politicians. The other four are all spies or informants, I can’t tell the difference. But they ain’t real, that’s for sure.”

“How can you tell?” Jason asks, genuinely curious. His eyes scan the room, searching out any abnormalities. He sees the prime minister of China glance his way and give him a friendly smile that Jason knows is fake.

“Well they’re all idiots, first off,” the waiter scoffs, “They’re way too aggressive with their approach. I mean, all of them sitting with the politicians they’re trying to mark? Read The Art of War, for God’s sake. It’s embarrassing.”

“You said others have stopped you,” Jason remarks, growing more interested in the conversation he’s having rather than the one the table is having, “Why you?”

The waiter shrugs, “No idea. My lucky night with handsome men, I guess.”

Someone approaches Jason and the waiter with a look on her face that Jason can only describe as pissed off to high hell. He’s seen Tim with that look before so he knows it means trouble.

“Good evening, sir,” she says with a fake smile to Jason. She has an accent that Jason can’t place. “I sincerely apologize for our serviceman co-opting your time. Charlie is one of our most social employees, perhaps too social—”

“Oh no, please, he’s been extremely helpful with me tonight! In fact, I stopped him myself,” Jason chuckles, waving his hand a bit to play up the scene, to make it look like he truly wasn’t bothered, “It’s always nice to have someone who's familiar with home. Charlie here was just giving me helpful information on the local sights, he might even take me on a tour himself to some of the bars around here.”

“O-oh!” she stammers, flushing a bit from embarrassment, “I didn’t realize, this is my mistake, then.”

“We’re both from Boston,” Charlie easily lies, “So we’ve got some things in common.”

“Go Sox,” Jason says, feeling stupid as he flashes a smile. Fuck, that’s Boston, right?

Charlie laughs. “Sorry, I know as my manager you’ve got to keep things moving, I’ll be back on my rounds in a minute.”

“I see,” his manager replies, clearly convinced by the little rapport they have going, “As long as you are no bother.”

“He’s perfect in my book,” Jason says, clapping Charlie on the shoulder. It might have been overkill but whatever, he’s about ready to dash anyway.

The manager nods her head and gives Charlie a look before turning away from them. Once she’s out of earshot, Jason whispers, “Sox are Boston, right?”

The waiter looks at him with a puzzled expression and after a second’s pause, laughs. “Uh, yeah,” he says sarcastically, “Crazy, I thought a guy built like you would be into sports. You should probably know that if you’re a spy and all.”

Jason rolls his eyes, “I’ve got better things to worry about than sports.”

“You should learn,” Charlie says, “Sometimes these guys bring it up as code. Especially between British people and Americans. They talk about rowing and other boring shit but it’s all code.”

Jason raises an eyebrow, “Interesting. You seem to know a lot about this, Charlie.”

Charlie gives him a wink and a smirk, “My money’s on Boston making the World Series this year. Perhaps after, I’ll take a trip to the Congo, care to join me? That is if Prime Minister Huang hasn’t already moved forward with annexation. Perhaps I can introduce you two?”

Jason nearly reels back from Charlie, surprised by the sudden invitation. He looks up and down at the guy and notices the way his pants catch a bit around his calf, looking a bit too loose for his size.

Ah, so he’s here like Jason is. Undercover.

“That would be lovely,” Jason says, finally understanding. Thank God he stopped this guy out of the dozens of waiters here. Luck’s on his side tonight it seems.

They both walk over to the table where Prime Minister Huang sits with a few others, all of whom are captivated with their own conversations. The prime minister, though, is by himself, checking his watch with boredom.

“Sorry to disturb you, prime minister Huang,” Charlie says, sounding sincere, “But this gentleman here has requested to meet with you, formally.”

“I see,” the prime minister says as he looks over Jason. There’s something in his eyes that he can’t place. “And you are?”

“Peter Wayne,” Jason lies, giving a polite nod.

The prime minister smiles brightly and it catches Jason off guard. It seems too sincere. “Ah, Mister Wayne! I’ve been hoping to meet your acquaintance this evening. Yes, please, come and sit with me, I have many a topic to discuss with you.”

Great, that’s never good for Jason. He’s good at building the character behind the scenes but he’s always had trouble keeping things going, and he worries for a millisecond that his luck is about to run out.

He steps back as the prime minister stands and he gives Charlie a wave, who gives him a finger salute and a wink in return. It’s cheeky and Jason huffs a bemused chuckle, wondering what the guy’s backstory is. Oh, well.

“Wow, cool gig, wish I was there. That calamari looks bomb as fuck,” Tim’s suddenly saying into his ear. He likes to randomly show up like this, Jason has noticed.

Despite the sneak attack, Jason nearly keels over from how happy he is to hear Tim’s voice. Fuck, luck really is on his side tonight.

“Charlie was cute,” Tim says with a bit of venom in his voice, “Maybe perfect, like you said.”

“Don’t do this to me right now,” Jason mutters against his shoulder, pretending like he’s looking over it as he and the prime minister walk to a secluded table. He barely remembers what Charlie looks like, for fuck’s sake.

“Fine,” Tim says, “But I’m remembering that one.”

The only reason the private talk with the prime minister doesn’t go belly up is because Tim’s in Jason’s ear the entire time, providing context and helpful talking points for Jason to weave into their conversation. It’s an extreme success, with the prime minister fully believing that Gotham will become a port for the transportation of high-caliber weapons and drugs once Jason returns and pulls the fake strings he says he can. He had explained that they run through Switzerland first and then make their way over to America, so having Gotham be their distribution point worked remarkably in their favor. If anything, it makes sense for things to come in through Gotham, seeing as how the shipments wouldn’t be caught too quickly since the police were always drowning in local crime, anyway.

That’s exactly what Jason had said in order to convince him. It seemed like outside of his neck of the woods, the world was unaware that Gotham was crawling with capes, which helped Jason out a fuck ton. No need to convince someone that they wouldn’t be caught by Batman if they weren’t even aware of Batman.

“That went well,” Tim says. He sounds off, and has been sounding off the entire time Jason was riding back to his room, which is to say he had literally sounded like he had had his internal power shut down. Tim normally went into a hyperactive state every other night when they had made one-tenth of the progress they had made tonight, so the silence had been eerie and extremely out of character.

“What is up with you tonight?” Jason asks, seriously. He’s worried something happened and if his worry comes out as frustration, he can’t help it.

“Nothing,” Tim says, his lie shining brightly like a huge neon sign.

“Tim, I’m being so fucking serious right now,” Jason hisses. He slots the key to his room into the lock and turns it quickly, bending the key a little in his frustration. Awesome, he’s probably going to have to pay for a replacement. He shoulders open the door and slams it behind him, kicking off his dress shoes and hanging up his suit’s blazer on a hook by the entrance. “What is wrong with you tonight? You’re usually a bitch but not a quiet one like this. It’s killing my mood.”

“Whatever,” Tim replies angrily, “Go out and have drinks with Charlie, or whatever.”

Jason blinks. Who the fuck was Charlie?

It takes a moment for Jason to remember Charlie from the gala, the waiter that he had spoken to briefly. Seriously? He barely remembered the guy.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jason questions, shocked by the way Tim’s acting, “I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

“You seemed to like him,” Tim says, “He was flirting with you. Thought you’d wanna do something with someone in person.”

Jason scoffs and rolls his eyes. He power walks into the small room, beelining to the mirror that hangs on the closet door. He’s yanking at the knot of his tie, loosening it as he undresses and rants, “I’ve been jerking off with you nearly nightly, having the fucking time of my life, and you think some rando would catch my eye over you? You’re out of your fucking mind.” Jason pauses, considering a point he really, truly doesn’t want to acknowledge. He can’t sit on it too long, knowing himself, otherwise, it’ll turn ugly. “Are you… are you doing something with someone else? In person?”

“What?! No!” Tim immediately yells at him, “I’ve been on call with you, moron!”

“Exactly!” Jason exclaims, relieved by the answer and lowkey relieved at the way Tim sounds offended by the question. He kicks off his pants and unbuttons his dress shirt, “I’m with you all the time, Tim! When I’m not with you, I think about how I want to be with you, and if I’m not thinking about that, I’m fucking asleep.”

“Why couldn’t you just say that?!” Tim whines. It sounds like he’s holding back tears, which confuses Jason even more. This definitely isn’t the way he sounds when they’re having phone sex and Tim’s in a headspace where he’s begging and crying. This is totally new and completely different.

Jason takes a second to collect himself. He remembers how Tim has been benched because of his mental breakdown, and Jason wonders if this is it starting to bleed over and show itself again. Tim’s not normally this reactive with him, and he hasn’t really been the overly emotional type outside of a session, so something else has got to be at play here.

“Birdy, please, tell me what’s wrong,” Jason sighs softly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Talk to me, you know you can.”

Tim bursts into tears and Jason’s mouth falls open. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say, so he stands awkwardly in his dinky little rented room in nothing but his socks and underwear, wishing he was anywhere but here. Anywhere near Tim.

Fuck China. He wants to be home.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tim sobs, “I feel fucking insane.”

“Talk to me,” Jason repeats, this time with more emotion, “Please?”

“I don’t— I don’t want to ruin what we have going.” 

Tim coughs and sniffles a bit as Jason feels his stomach drop out of his ass. He’s not exactly sure what Tim means but he’s been broken up with before, and he thinks this is where this is going, which is coming out of left field for the first time in his life. At least in the past, he was able to admit he was a giant fucking jackass to whoever had the unfortunate opportunity to date him.

“Whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry,” Jason says quickly. He sits down on the edge of the bed because he thinks if he keeps standing, he’s going to throw up. “Have I not been taking care of you after sex? I don’t know what I did exactly but we can talk it out, I swear—”

“What? No,” Tim says, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve done everything right involving our sex stuff, too.”

Jason blinks and furrows his brows. Well, he must have done something to upset Tim this badly, and it wasn’t something as simple as his interaction with Charlie. It couldn’t be that, could it?

“Then why are you crying?” Jason asks.

Tim takes a shaky breath and clears his throat as Jason waits, unsure how to feel.

“Sorry I just… I really like you and I feel stupid about it. And being so far away has me freaking out over every interaction.”

“Tim, Jesus fucking Christ,” Jason breathes out, relief flooding his body. He throws himself back against the bed and rubs his hands over his face, letting out a rough sigh, “I thought you were ending things with me. Don’t scare me like that.”

Tim starts to cry more and Jason is confused again, but he’s not scared this time, now knowing that he isn’t the perpetrator of Tim’s tears. Waiting this out is a more realistic strategy that’s not going to give him a heart attack.

“I wish I was there with you,” Jason says after a moment, “I don’t know how to help.”

“I wish you were here, too,” Tim whispers, “I’m sorry for freaking out. I think it’s part of the mental breakdown thing, I don’t know.”

“I’m not the type to do hookups or things like that,” Jason says, circling back to the original point that upset Tim. He sits back up and runs the back of his neck, loosening the stiff muscles, “Plus, like I said, I really enjoy what we do. And I like you outside of that, too.”

Finally, he says it. It’s been eating him up for a while but he didn’t really realize how badly it’s been bothering him until he was here, in this moment, processing the past almost four months of them talking.

“I didn’t want to say anything cause I’m— I’m not good with this shit. I’m fucking clingy and it’s annoying. Like the day you didn’t call me a few weeks ago, I was an angry wreck.” The admission is said through gritted teeth and it feels like a bad toothache that he doesn’t want to acknowledge but he’s got to, otherwise, it’ll spread and cause more damage. He thinks if he’s vulnerable with Tim then maybe Tim will be vulnerable with him. It’s a long shot, seeing as how the other keeps a control on his true emotions just as tightly as he does everything else in his life, but it’s a shot worth taking in Jason’s book.

“I…” Tim trails off, and Jason’s not sure why. He’s mentally preparing himself for Tim to bolt, to finally understand that Jason’s a walking red flag that needs to be avoided at all costs. “I like clingy,” Tim says softly.

Jason chuckles around a sigh and shakes his head, “Okay. Then I guess that’s established.”

“Can we— can we put a title on this,” Tim asks, sounding weary, “Sorry, it’ll mean—”

“Yeah,” Jason says eagerly, cutting him off, “Yeah, I’d love that.”

Tim exhales and makes a noise similar to a raspberry. He groans a bit and says, “Sorry for being dramatic. I started my period so I’ve been all out of whack this week. Just extra paranoid and cranky.”

Oh, Jason didn’t know he still got that. Periods don’t bother him at all and neither does talking about them.

“That sounds like it sucks,” Jason says with sincerity, “Do you want a milkshake or something?”

“What?” Tim asks, laughing a bit at the question.

“I can order you a milkshake to help,” Jason explains. He thinks about it and follows up with, “Unless that’ll make you like, bloated and crampy or something.”

“No, a milkshake sounds great,” Tim says, “Know of any places in Gotham that make a good strawberry milkshake?”

Jason thinks about the diner on 63rd street that’s actually a front for some money laundering bullshit. They’re criminals but damn, they have a good milkshake and burger combo meal that he and Roy take advantage of as often as they possibly can.

“I do, actually,” he says as he pulls out his phone and swipes to a delivery app, pulling up the joint’s order page. “Want anything else?”

“No. I think eating too much junk food right now will make things worse.”

Fair enough, Jason thinks. He rolls his eyes at the delivery fee and the small order fee but whatever, he’ll eat the cost. It’s not like he spends his money on anything else, anyway. And Tim’s been really good about cooking and eating meals while on call lately, so Jason definitely feels like he deserves a reward of some sort.

“Cool, it’ll be there soon.”

“You have my address?” Tim asks with slight sarcasm.

Jason shrugs, “You broke into my place. Now we’re even.”

Tim laughs. His headphones scrape against something and he makes a noise of dissatisfaction, humming a displeased sound, “Your sweater doesn’t really smell like you anymore. I think I’ve worn it too much.”

“Go back to my place and take whatever you want,” Jason suggests easily, “Hell, stay there if you want, I don’t give a shit.”

There’s a pause before Tim weakly says, “Really?”

Jason blushes a bit at the idea of Tim staying at his place, of him cooking in his kitchen, of him lounging on his couch while on call with Jason. Of him masturbating in Jason’s bed, desperate for him to be there. He likes that idea. He likes all of them. “Yeah,” he says, trying to hide the way his voice sounds when he’s embarrassingly turned on, “If it’ll help. You don’t have to, though.”

“Can I bring my computer there?”

“Sure,” Jason says, uncaring, “Move shit around. Just keep my bed in its spot but everything else is whatever. You’ll figure it out.”

“Your place is really nice,” Tim remarks, “I was kinda surprised when I found it. All of your other places are much smaller and more run down.”

Jason raises an eyebrow, feeling his stomach warm from the concept of Tim seeking him out, of Tim being a little more than just interested in finding his main safe house. Maybe he’s just as clingy as Jason is. That thought shoots straight to his dick and he knows it’ll only worsen if Tim keeps saying things like this.

“Why did you think I was trying to end things?” Tim asks suddenly, derailing Jason from his thoughts that were slowly melting into the gutter of his brain.

“Oh,” Jason says, thinking it over, “I don’t know. Cause I don’t send pictures like you do.”

“Huh?” Tim says incredulously, “You thought I was going to break things off cause I haven’t gotten pictures when I haven’t even asked for them?”

“Well it sounds fucking stupid when you say it like that,” Jason huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Because it is stupid,” Tim laughs, “I don’t care. Pictures don’t really get me going, anyway. I prefer videos cause I like to watch and hear the noises and shit.”

A video. Jason has never even considered recording himself. How dumb of him. He could probably do a video much more easily than a single photo since recording allows for more error that looks natural. And there are other things to help a person out, like noises. Yeah, a video could be something he sends.

“I would like to see something,” Tim continues, shyly, “It would be nice to know…things.”

“Things?” Jason echoes with a tease. He’s a little nervous at the prospect of sending a photo of himself but he’s warming up to the idea of a video very fast.

“Yeah, like— like how big you are,” Tim mumbles.

Oh. That’s what Tim means.

“You could just ask,” Jason says with a grin, “I’m like 8 inches, I think. I haven’t measured in a long ass time.”

Tim’s typing stutters for a moment before it starts back up. “Guys always lie,” Tim says and Jason can see Tim rolling his eyes in his mind, “They always add like 2 inches to everything. Watch. How tall are you?”

“I’m six foot,” Jason immediately responds, confused at what Tim’s getting at. Why would he need to lie?

“What? No, you aren’t,” Tim says, sounding confused, “You’re six-two.”

Jason scoffs and chuckles a bit, “Okay, so I knock off 2 inches. Do whatever you want with that information.”

Tim sputters and doesn’t give Jason a dignified answer, making him laugh even more. His phone buzzes and he looks at the notification that’s popped up.

It’s a blurry photo of Tim’s door and the milkshake that sits outside of it. It's one of the shittiest pictures he’s seen in a while.

“Your milkshake’s there,” Jason says, “Go grab it before it’s snatched by someone else.”

“Okay,” Tim says. Jason can hear his chair roll as he stands, “I’m gonna grab it then take a nap. My head and back fucking hurt.”

“Are you gonna eat it?” Jason asks. Although Tim’s been good about eating lately, Jason isn’t sure if today’s a day when he feels too queasy to eat. They’re rarer days now but in the beginning, it was a frequent issue and Jason isn’t sure if his period affects that.

The door opens and closes in the background. “Yeah, then I’m gonna knock out,” Tim says. There’s a weird sound as Tim tries to suck on the straw. “Woah, are there real chunks of strawberry in this?”

“Yeah, this place is no joke,” Jason says casually, hiding the fact that he’s proud of himself for impressing Tim, “Let me know if you ever want anything else. You’re my boyfriend now so that means I have total permission to spoil you.”

Tim lets out a small noise of indignation but doesn’t push back against Jason’s proclamation. Good. Jason wants to spoil Tim, the guy barely does anything for himself.

“Fine,” Tim mumbles after a few more sips of the milkshake. It must be good enough to persuade him. “But nothing excessive. I don’t like that.”

“Sure. Okay,” Jason agrees. He’s just happy that Tim is accepting anything at this point.

“I’m gonna—” Tim burps and Jason laughs, surprised by the sound of it, “Sorry, haha. I’m gonna go nap now.”

“Okay, sleep well,” Jason says. There’s a tight feeling in his chest that he’s starting to get used to. It’s one he hasn’t let himself feel in a long, long time.

“Thanks. What time is it where you are?”

Jason looks at his phone again, noting the time, “Nearing 3AM. I’m about to pass out.”

“Alright,” Tim says softly, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Jason hums an affirmative, knowing damn well he’s not planning on going a day without talking to Tim, especially not now.

“Night night, Birdy,” Jason yawns. He slips the headpiece out of his ear and tosses it onto the nightstand as he lays back and looks at his phone, getting ready to type out some of his notes so he has a little less to do in the morning.

His phone buzzes in his hand and he sees the notification of Tim texting him a picture message pop up. He raises an eyebrow— if it’s anything devious, he’ll have to pretend he didn’t see it because right now he’s too exhausted to sext.

He clicks open the message and his heart nearly explodes. It’s a picture of Tim, smiling sleepily with a thumbs up and the milkshake balanced on his chest as he lays back against some pillows, looking cozy with the soft lighting from the string lights that illuminate his room.

Of course, he’s in the hoodie.

A breathy chuckle leaves Jason’s mouth as he smiles and shakes his head. This is the first actual picture of food Tim has ever sent him.

He replies with a bat emoji and tosses his phone to the side, knocking out at about the same time it hits the mattress.

When Jason wakes up, he makes it a point to not text Tim about it because he doesn’t want him to call. Not yet. He’s on a mission as soon as he’s shit, showered, and shaved, and then he’s on the streets like a convict straight out of prison.

It doesn’t take long for Jason to locate the exact type of store he needs. It’s Beijing, for Christ’s sake, he shouldn’t need to be going down some weird back alley to find this place, but according to his navigation this shop’s smack dab in the middle of one of the many crime alleyways that stitch the city together.

He doesn’t loiter in the store— he has a goal in mind and he doesn’t really need anything else, so he makes his way to the cashier with only one product in hand. Places like this weren’t something he avoided, he just didn’t need to utilize their wares often. If he needed anything, he’d get it online, but he can’t really do that now with where he’s staying.

The cashier doesn’t even look up from her phone as she chews on her bubblegum and continues watching her soap opera on her phone. She’s got it perched up against the separation glass that’s thicker than some of the glass that’s in Jason’s home. Damn. No wonder she doesn’t give a shit, he can only imagine what she has seen while working here. She scans the item and glances at it real quick before bagging it without hesitation, taking Jason’s money and pointing to the sign that’s in a language he can’t read. Scribbled under it in small slanted text is ‘NO REFUND / NO CHANGE’.

Jason’s not sure if they mean no change as in money, or no change as in no exchanges. Both make equal amounts of sense to him. Either way, it doesn’t matter to him.

Jason leaves the store silently with his discreet plastic bag that holds his purchase. Once he’s heading back, he forces himself to not think about what he’s doing, lest he loses his bravado. He’s about 99% certain Tim’s going to like this thing but that 1% of uncertainty could easily tack on a few zeroes to the end of it if Jason thinks about it too hard.

When he gets back to his room, he’s half hard from the anticipation and the nerves that are shaking his core. He rips the thing out of the bag and kicks off his shoes, sending them across the room, uncaring that they end up out of place from their usual spot.

If he thinks about it too long, he’s going to lose his steam, he knows it, so he makes his way over to the bed and places his phone in the spot on the nightstand he thinks looks the best. The way the natural light comes in from the window next to the bed helps and looked great on the practice take he had done earlier, so he doesn’t look at the screen too long.

He hits record and tries to not let his nerves take over.

The fleshlight he’s got on the bed looks kind of like Tim, which helps him get more comfortable with the idea of fucking the thing. He’s never used something like this before but he’s watched plenty of people use one and he’s not dense, he can figure out how it works pretty easily.

He lays back against the pillows he piled against the headboard, naked, and starts off by slowly dragging his fingers up and down his shaft, teasing his balls and sighing a bit, imagining that he’s on a call with Tim. It doesn’t take long for him to get fully hard, not with the way his nerves are lighting a fire in him that he wasn’t aware of.

He groans and pants a bit as he strokes himself, falling into a familiar rhythm. The way his foreskin drags over the head of his cock sends a heat wave down his dick that spreads to his belly, making him loosen up and relax into what he’s doing. Soon enough, he’s completely forgotten about his phone recording him.

What he hasn’t forgotten about is the damn toy he’s got laid up next to him, out of sight of the camera. He glances down at it and knows he’s not close enough to finish but he’s far enough along to have no trouble rocking himself into the thing as he pretends it’s Tim.

He pops open the little bottle of complimentary lube, drizzling it dramatically on himself. The coldness of it makes him hiss a bit but it doesn’t hurt, not really, it’s just surprising. He spreads it pretty liberally and for a moment, he’s afraid he used too much and that it won’t feel like anything.

He wipes his hand against the bedsheets and snatches up the toy with a little too much vigor. He’s gotta get it started, he can’t wait at all, he’s just going to have to dive into the deep end and learn how to swim through the panic. It’s what he’s done most of his life.

When he finally aligns himself with the entrance, he’s surprised to feel how much resistance it gives him, causing him to grunt a little bit as he breaches the folds. The extra lube helps immensely and he’s thankful it works out that way because soon enough, he’s sliding it slowly down his cock, with his toes curling and his stomach jumping from the feeling of the tight silicone.

“Fuck, Birdy,” he groans. He doesn’t even have the wherewithal to feel ashamed or embarrassed about saying Tim’s nickname, as he’s too lost in the feeling of the suction around him. Now he gets why people use these things.

Lifting it up an inch, Jason nearly yelps from the pleasure of it. Jesus Christ, he wants this to be Tim so, so badly.

He remembers how Tim said he likes hearing the noises and how he always has a better reaction to their calls when Jason’s more vocal, so he decides to kick it up a notch.

“Fuck, Birdy, I want this to be you so badly,” Jason moans, sliding it up and down with a little more speed as his dick spreads it open, “God, you’d look so good like this, on top of me, riding my cock and being a mean little brat.”

The words are falling out of his mouth easily, even without Tim there in his ear moaning and whining and spurring him on. He can hear Tim’s noises so clearly in his mind, it’s unreal.

Jason grunts hard when he buries his entire cock into it. “Oh, fuck,” he hisses, “Just like that, baby. I know you’d take me so well.”

He makes a few harsh noises as he picks up speed. The burning in his stomach turns into a tight heat as he edges closer to the finish line. The noise of the toy slapping against his pelvis and the squelching of the lube both add an extra effect to the fantasy that Jason doesn’t normally have when it’s just him and his hand.

The vice hold he’s got on the thing feels like a death grip and he’s certain he would have cracked a lower-quality one if he had gone cheaper. He’s very fucking happy he got a more expensive model because this one feels incredible. Not as good as the real thing, he’s sure, but it’s damn near close enough in his mind.

“Goddammit,” Jason groans, bucking up hard into it, almost losing his balance against the pillow wall he had set up for himself. He’s close, really close, and he knows whenever he finishes it’s going to probably make him whiteout.

Deciding something in the moment, he flips himself over and kneels a bit, unsure and uncaring if the camera can still capture him well. He places the body of the toy at a certain angle, digging the end of it into the mattress, and he throws an arm up against the bed’s headboard and starts fucking into the thing with quick, hard thrusts that light up his whole body. He feels crazy from how good it feels— he’s not sure if this thing always feels this good or if it’s because he’s so lost to the idea of this being Tim that it’s making him reach the endpoint at a frighteningly quick rate.

“Fuck, Tim, Jesus, this needs to be you,” he growls with both his eyes and his grip on the fleshlight tightening hard as he nears his peak, “God, you’ll probably feel so much better than this thing, and having you under me taking my cock as I pound into that sexy body of yours—”

Jason lets out a long, satisfied moan that’s mixed with a yell as he cums, filling the toy with his finish. He keeps thrusting, riding the small waves that come with the aftershock, and eventually, he tips over and shivers with his cock still buried in the toy.

He flips over onto his back and exhales loudly, sliding the thing off of him with a moan. It makes a funny little popping noise as his cock falls out of it and slaps against his stomach, and the mixture of cum and lube spills out all over his belly, too. Normally he’d find it gross and messy but his brain is overloaded with too many chemicals for him to give a shit.

“Shit. Fuck,” he sighs, tipping his head back against the pillows that are under him. He takes a moment to collect himself. He looks up at the ceiling and cheekily says, “Come to Switzerland and replace this toy, Birdy,” before he grabs his phone and ends the recording.

“You—” Tim hisses in his ear, making a surprise appearance as usual. The only thing that’s surprising about them anymore is the timing, as Jason never knows when they’re going to happen, “—cannot be sending me that type of shit when I’m on my period, you fucking—”

“Mr. Wayne?” The assistant’s voice rings out across the lobby, catching Jason’s attention, “This way.”

“I’m in the middle of something, Birdy,” Jason whispers discreetly, flashing a tight, toothless smile to the assistant. He nods at her and follows behind her at enough distance to look natural.

Tim goes quiet and Jason tries to hide a grin, knowing full well that Tim wants to yell at him for sending that video his way while he was asleep. He would have sent it immediately but he had spent a few extra minutes editing it when his brain had come back from the post-orgasm stupidity, and once his masterpiece was finished, he sat on it until he knew Tim wouldn’t be opening it for a few hours. Jason had done it on purpose— he really wanted it to catch Tim off guard and since Tim is rarely caught off guard, he felt accomplished in his achievement.

The room he walks into is minimalist to a degree that confuses him momentarily. There’s only a long couch, a fireplace, and a television in the room. The thing that catches his breath is the way the room’s furthest wall is one long, sleek piece of glass overlooking the capital of China. He can see the sun starting to disappear over the horizon as the night leaks into the sky with the moon replacing the sun’s job. Every building is lit up with artificial indoor lighting, looking like little splashes of paint on an extremely busy canvas. The way the room is looking over the city reminds Jason of being on a mountain, overlooking the valleys and forests that decorate the landscape.

“Peter,” the prime minister’s sister greets him with a warm smile as she enters the room from behind the wall that the television and fireplace are built into. He hadn’t realized there was a space behind it. “May I?”

“Please, I prefer it to Mr. Wayne,” Jason chuckles. He feels weird watching her walk over to him. Something’s incredibly off about her.

“Wonderful, the formalities of the English language were never something I grasped,” she says easily.

“Your English sounds near perfect,” Jason remarks, trying to sound impressed and not accusatory. Or racist. “I’m sure you’ve got a great hold on the formalities.”

“They’re quite different from my native tongue, I can admit,” she replies, dodging the compliment.

“Be careful with her,” Tim suddenly says into his ear, “The room has cameras with no firewall or any sort of protection. I think they’re waiting for someone to hack them. So I can’t get in but I can hear.”

Jason hums, acknowledging both her and Tim. He motions to the couch. “Shall we sit?”

“Such a gentleman,” she jokes, giving Jason a sly look that makes him uncomfortable. He plays it off with a small curtsey that she laughs at, behind her hand. Her nails are sharp and long, the exact style Jason hates.

“My sincerest apologies, I don’t believe I actually caught your first name, Mrs. Huang,” Jason says. It’s true, he has no idea what the fuck her name is, and he thinks he’s got a shoehorn into the topic since she already acknowledged him by his first name.

“It’s Miss. And you may call me Leslie,” she nods, “That is usually the name I utilize, as it is easiest for your people to pronounce.”

His people. Of course. He laughs and shrugs, “You’re probably right.”

“I know I am,” she says firmly with a smile still on her face.

Okay. Weird. “Well, I wanted to thank you for having this meeting with me tonight as I know you are an incredibly busy woman,” Jason says as he adjusts his body language to be more relaxed, less formal, and vulnerable. She doesn’t change her position but she does look over him, her eyes betraying her.

“My brother is extremely interested in your proposal to position Gotham in such a…precarious trade settlement,” she says, placing emphasis on the word precarious, “I believe our goals— that is to say, his and mine— are quite separate from each other.”

Jason’s not sure what she’s talking about and with Tim’s silence, he figures Tim also doesn’t know what she means. That’s never a good sign.

“I will say,” Jason says, lifting himself from the lounging position he was in, placing his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, “I’m not quite informed on what your goals are. Your brother was extremely loquacious about his, but yours he didn’t mention.”

“Loquacious?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Apologies,” Jason smiles, “I meant he spoke plenty of his goals. It means to be talkative.”

“Ah, I see,” she says with a smile. Her body language loosens a bit from Jason’s patience with her. Good. “Yes, he’s quite bullheaded when it comes to his own ambitions. One does not become the prime minister without strict determination.”

“Of course not,” Jason agrees.

“I believe he’s a bit too forward with his plans,” Leslie sighs as she stands. Jason watches her walk over to an alcohol cart that he hadn’t noticed when he walked in. It’s stocked with different types of alcohol, none of which Jason would know off of the top of his head since he doesn’t usually drink anything that makes a home on the top shelf. He’s certain whatever Leslie is in possession of has never, and will never, see anything remotely close to the types of bars he’s used to.

The lighting of the room is dim and creates a cozy ambiance, especially now that the sun has set and the room has darkened. Her silhouette is outlined by the lights that are inside the wall, near the floor, lining the entire room except for the wall of glass. The city is now covered in the dark of the night, with the building polluting the darkness, shining like little lightning bugs that refuse to go out. Jason wonders what the city would look like if their power grid suddenly failed.

“God, God, Leslie Huang, why do I know that name?” Tim hisses into his ear, sounding angry about his faulty memory, “I can’t find shit about her online. No birth records, no nothing. And with the room having no security—”

“This is quite a view,” Jason remarks casually, tossing his hand in the direction of the window, “Similar to the executive’s lounge at WE. Of course, we don’t have most of Beijing to look over.”

Leslie laughs, “I was not sure which view you meant.”

Jason looks at her and squints. Was she flirting with him?

“Your time at WE is quite interesting,” she continues, as if she hadn’t made a flirtatious remark, “I read about you on the internet. Your cousin— Bruce, is it?”

Jason’s not sure what she’s asking but he figures he might as well try to fill in the gaps. He needs her back on the topic of her obsession with annexing the Congo, not about him. “Yes, he and I were estranged growing up. Our parents were never close and once he lost his, we lost contact with him.”

“Such an unfortunate event,” she tisks, shaking her head, “Misfortune seems to follow that man.”

“What do you mean? He’s one of the richest men in the world, I think he’s rather satisfied with himself,” Jason says, breaking character by accident. He scolds himself in his mind and shakes his head, forcing a fake laugh, “Sorry, he and I have a rather… interesting history if I do say so myself.”

“I understand,” she smiles over her shoulder at him, “I can only imagine. To lose not one, but both parents, then to lose a son…it’s unimaginable.”

Jason goes stiff at the mention of his own death.

“And do you know a Timothy Drake-Wayne?” she asks as she pours the liquor into a glass that matches the style of drink, uncaring that Jason gave no response.

Jason’s blood turns to ice but he can’t falter now, not when he’s already been in the room discussing things for so long. It took a lot for him to get this meeting without it being seen as suspicious, he can’t trip up now. “Of course,” Jason answers truthfully, “He sits on the board with me.”

“Really? I was under the impression that he was active CEO at the company,” she says, glancing at him, probably to gauge his reaction. She pours a drink to match the first one from the same decanter, which Jason takes a mental note of. She walks back over to the couch with more sway in her step, handing the glass to Jason. “Is he no longer in possession of the position?”

“Shit,” Tim whispers harshly, nearly causing Jason to jump out of his skin, “Fucking— I knew I knew her.”

“He remains CEO, yes. I’m quite close with him so sometimes I view him in a more casual fashion,” Jason says as he smells the liquor, raising his brows at it. He has no fucking idea what it is. “This smells delicious.”

“It’s a ‘62 Dalmore,” Leslie replies with a smile. She swirls it around her glass and smells it before sipping it expertly.

Since Leslie takes the first sip, Jason follows suit, mimicking her movements and the way she sips at the liquor lightly. He doesn’t like it, not really, but he pretends to be impressed as he hums, “Gorgeous.”

“Tell me about this Timothy,” she says, ignoring Jason’s compliment once again. So that’s not the way to get to her, it seems. “Last I spoke with him, he was rather… Oh, what’s the word in English?” she sighs as she looks at the ceiling, taking another long drink as she contemplates the word she wants to use.

“Bitchy.” Tim says, deadpan. Jason has to hold back a snort.

“He was rather… difficult,” Leslie says after a moment’s pause. Jason is sure she wanted to use the exact word Tim used. “He was quite the monsoon, I couldn’t help but be impressed despite his resistance to my requests.”

Jason huffs. He’s starting to feel weird, like his head’s getting foggy but not in the type of way that Rohypnol hits him. “That sounds exactly like him,” Jason replies with a smirk, “He can definitely be bitchy, if that’s what you mean.”

“Ugh,” Tim scoffs and Jason has to hold back another laugh. God, he feels good right now. He feels kind of insane, actually.

Leslie slides a little closer to him and he has to force himself to remain in his spot. Her eyes look a little glassy but he thinks it’s just the light reflecting in them oddly.

“I do wonder,” she says softly, “If there is any way to influence him into possibly transferring a bit more of the executive vote in favor of you?”

“What?” Jason asks, breaking character again. Fuck, he can’t keep slipping up like this. He clears his throat and quickly says, “Why me?”

“You have much more experience, with your background of owning the company that Wayne Enterprises bought,” she shrugs. She’s much more casual now and much closer to Jason. She’s leaning into his space and it’s making him extremely uncomfortable. “I don’t believe his visions with the company align with mine or my brother’s. And having China as a friend would only bring prosperity. It would also be quite the misfortune for your cousin to lose yet another son— if things were to go sour involving our propositions.”

Even though Jason doesn’t involve himself in anything Wayne Enterprises related, he’s not normally feeling this lost or dumb about conversations involving power dynamics. Why is she threatening Tim’s life? He’s not that powerful within the company, is he? Powerful enough to have a target put on his back for denying whatever offer she had initially tried to propose?

His head swims a bit and he can’t think straight, all he can do is think about how badly he wants Tim to be here with him, or imagine Tim with that angry little pout he does whenever he can’t get something he wants, or whenever he—

Leslie’s hand slides against Jason’s thigh and he startles. He’s immediately gripping her wrist and looking at her directly in her eyes. Her eyes are definitely glassy and she gives him a smile he thinks is supposed to be suggestive.

“I’m spoken for,” Jason immediately says, pushing her hand away from him with force.

She giggles a bit and sways. Does she think he’s playing with her? “I see no ring,” she replies with no loss of confidence or bravado.

“Trust me, I’d never do that to him,” Jason says, slipping up. He doesn’t fucking care, actually, all he cares about is getting out of this room immediately.

“Ah, I see,” she says, disappointment and bitterness lacing her voice. It’s the first sign of negative emotion he’s gotten from her all evening. “I could always provide you with a number of men that fit your… proclivities.”

“No,” Jason says firmly, dropping any politeness he may still carry. He stands, despite the tightness in his groin that’s betraying him right now. He has no idea why he’s hard, he’s definitely not turned on, and he’s definitely not interested in this situation.

He wants Tim.

“I believe I’ll see myself out,” Jason says, nodding to her, “No need to escort me, I can find my way.”

“As you wish,” Leslie says casually, waving him off. She leans back against the couch and downs the rest of her liquor in one go.

Fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have drunk any of that shit. It didn’t matter that she had some, too, because clearly, she was ready to get high with him and steer the night in a direction that Jason would never, could never, fathom navigating.

He’s out the door and power-walking to the elevator with fierce determination. He doesn’t know if the receptionist is at her desk or not, and he doesn’t care. He smashes his thumb against the elevator’s call button and it immediately slides open, much to his relief.

“There’s a cab waiting for you downstairs that I called,” Tim says to him softly, “Jason—”

God, the way Tim says his name is everything to him. It just sounds so good coming from him. He groans and punches, literally punches, the button for the lobby, “Not right now, Birdy,” Jason pants. He’s sweating and his brain is fuzzy, focusing on the way Tim’s breathing into the headset, “I think she had that shit that I got hit with a few weeks back.”

“Are you seeing the bugs again?” Tim asks, sounding delicate, sounding like he cares, and Jason knows he cares now, which is only making him more turned on. He wonders how Tim would feel in his arms as they sit and watch a movie together on his worn-down sofa.

What the fuck? That’s not really sexual in nature, Jason doesn’t think. Unless it turned into something sexual but that’s not what he’s really thinking about, despite his cock throbbing at the thought of them innocently cuddling together.

“Tim, please, stop talking,” Jason nearly begs as he tries to will away the stiffness in his pants. He’s only mildly successful because he lowers his heart rate on purpose, breathing in and holding it a few times to get his blood to slow down.

The elevator dings and he bolts, unconcerned if anyone finds his actions to be suspicious. He slides into the cab and gives the cabbie the address of his rental, and he slams the partition window shut once the woman starts driving away from the building.

“Jesus, fuck, not this shit again,” Jason hisses, balancing his forehead in his palms as he curls in on himself. The cab driver ignores him.

“Jay, I don’t know what to do,” Tim says desperately, “I can hang up but I’m scared—”

“Don’t hang up,” Jason instructs, “Don’t hang up.”

“But— you’re compromised and—”

“Birdy, last time I didn’t know if you had the hots for me so I didn’t want you to feel bad and talk me through the episode,” Jason explains. His head is a little clearer now but not by much. He’s feeling a lot less stressed, though. He sighs and leans his head against the window, “I’m not as far gone as I was last time. I don’t know if she had her shit mixed into the drink or if it was like, one of those things you add into alcohol to make it smell good.”

“Like a finishing spray?”

“Sure,” Jason shrugs, “Whatever. Point is, it’s not hitting as bad as last time, but I’m fairly fucking sure this is the drug her and her brother are peddling across the globe.”

The cab pulls in front of Jason’s rental’s building and he fumbles with his wallet, pulling out the last of the cash that he’s got on hand and he shoves it through the driver’s window. The woman looks at him with a pissed off expression before she realizes that he’s severely overpaying, and before she can protest or say anything, Jason’s already walking away to his building’s entrance, heading to his room. The entryway is completely empty and the trek to his room is quick and easy since he’s only on the second floor.

“No matter what it was, I can’t… I don’t want to do this,” Tim says cautiously.

Jason groans as he unlocks his door, rolling his head back and feeling that sense of rejection that always lands his ass in a bad mental funk. Cool, now Tim had finally gotten bored of him. He slips his dress shoes off and rips off his clothes, desperate to do something that’ll make him feel anything positive.

“Jason, it’s not right,” Tim says, sounding sad, “You just had a really weird situation happen to you. If that drug hadn’t been put in your drink, you might not even be wanting to do anything tonight, and I couldn’t live with myself knowing I took advantage of you like this.”

“It’s not taking advantage—” Jason tries to fight back as he walks to the bed. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing it, why he’s pushing back, this isn’t like him. Maybe the drug makes people insistent. All he knows is he feels fatally wounded by the idea of Tim hanging up on him. He wants him here so badly.

He lands on the bed with a thud. It doesn’t bounce from his weight, instead, it just clings to him slightly as he sinks into it. The bed fucking sucks.

“Jay, babe,” Tim sighs, “I love you so much but I can’t do this for you. The best I can do is—”

“Wait,” Jason says, thrown off by the nickname, the pet name, and the holy fucking shit— “You just said you love me.”

Tim inhales sharply and remains quiet. Jason flips over onto his back and sits up, staring at himself in the mirror that’s on the wall across from the bed. He looks fucking terrible with his eyes red-rimmed and his hair a mess and his cheeks a bit gaunt. It’s a shock to see him looking this disgusting.

“Yeah,” Tim whispers, “I do. I do love you.”

Jason feels his chest swell and his breathing levels. It’s like the confession clears him of the drug’s effects, although he knows realistically it’s probably just the adrenaline making him feel like he’s more powerful. More in control.

“I—” Jason tries.

“No,” Tim immediately cuts him off, “Not right now. Say it when you aren’t fucked up but not right now. It’ll kill me.”

Jason grunts and sighs at the same time, forcing himself to remain silent. He could say whatever he wanted right now, he could beg Tim to listen to him and to trust him in believing that it’s true, but he knows if he was in Tim’s shoes he’d be doing the exact same thing.

He reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a small white bottle that he always brings with him for when the night terrors get too bad. “I’m gonna take a fucking Ambien and go to bed,” Jason says, giving up on pushing back against Tim. He knows that Tim is doing the right thing by resisting him because he—

Because he fucking loves him. And loving someone means sometimes you argue with them. Because sometimes loving someone means you know what’s right for them when they’re fucking compromised and can’t make logical or healthy decisions on their own.

“Okay,” Tim replies, “Text me when you wake up, okay?”

“Always,” Jason says before he pops two pills into his mouth, dry swallowing them. He should probably get water for himself but he’s already laid out on the bed, too exhausted to move.

Tim makes a noise of approval before disconnecting the line.

Jason wants to fucking drown himself. Instead, he falls asleep.

Jason wakes up 22 hours later. Once he figures out that he legitimately slept that long, he seriously wishes he was reading the clock wrong. A whole day was wasted sleeping.

He finds his phone in the blanket and pulls down the screen. There are a few messages from Roy in his Notification Center, a couple of updates on some topics he has tracked on Google, and nothing from Tim.

He closes his eyes and exhales a disappointed sigh. It probably means nothing— Tim was usually pretty good about waiting for Jason to text him, and he almost never called unless Jason let him know he was awake. Whenever he popped onto the comms randomly, it was always at a time he would absolutely know Jason was awake, never once waking Jason from his sleep.

The grogginess that’s probably due to the mixture of the Ambien and whatever the fuck he had been slipped last night was a bitch to handle. He felt his head pounding with every movement and his mouth felt dry.

Water. He needed water and 900 Advil, stat.

He also needed to text Tim, to let him know that one, he’s not dead and two, he’s not giving him the cold shoulder.

He shoots off a quick message to Tim letting him know he just woke up, and then he rises from the bed and wobbles into the kitchen on shaky legs. God, this shit was fucking potent mixed with the Ambien. He makes a mental note to not mix the two again.

He downs about four glasses of water and shoves a handful of almonds into his mouth. He’s a little queasy from the sudden intake so he paces himself better, this time taking his time to chew on some crackers and dried apricots. It tastes like shit but whatever, he just needed something to get his system up and running.

The clock on the kitchen wall reads 7:47PM. Shit, that means Tim probably went all day worrying about him on his side of the world. That’s not good, especially considering the last time this happened Tim had isolated himself and had shut down on Jason. What if he was doing that now? Jason wouldn’t blame him for being angry at him.

Jason checks his phone and hopes that for some reason he’ll somehow have a reply from Tim, despite it being the usual time for him to be asleep.

There’s nothing.

Deciding it’s better to do something productive than to lose himself to his own paranoia, Jason hops on his phone and books a flight to Switzerland for the morning. It’s a one-way business economy ticket that costs enough to make him sick, but it’s worth the price because after the last 48 hours, he doesn’t want to be stuck next to some young mom and a wailing baby.

It doesn’t help that the flight is going to be another 12 hours of travel, so Jason rolls his eyes and says fuck it as he books himself a redeye flight package that comes with one of the nicest hotels near the Alps. The place has an outdoor bath house that looks photoshopped because of how scenic it is, and it’s nowhere near tourist season so he might be able to take a dip in it without his scars freaking anyone out or drawing too much unwanted attention. The flight’s in 5 hours, which gives him just enough time to push himself into high gear and start burning the evidence of his existence here.

He grabs a trash bag from under the kitchen sink and starts shoving stuff he won’t need into it. He prefers to travel light and if that means he’s got to throw out clothes and other random items he acquires on his trips, so be it. Usually, he likes to donate his clothes but he’s on a time crunch.

The fleshlight goes into the trash with a bit more hesitation than anything else. It still makes it in there but Jason does pause and thinks about keeping it, then he imagines airport security stopping him for having it in his carry-on and he grimaces. That would be a nightmare scenario that he would like to never, ever encounter, thank you very much.

He checks his phone again, seeing that the time is now past 8PM, so it’s 7AM Gotham time. It’s still prime Tim sleeping hours which makes Jason want to claw his eyes out. He needs to fucking do something to get his mind off of things.

He ends up folding all of his clothes and packing everything away nicely into a duffle bag and his backpack, and he heads out into the night, slipping the earpiece in just in case Tim pops on it. The streets are bustling and suffocatingly populated, but it’s just what Jason needs. There’s enough going on to overstimulate him into a headspace that makes his brain turn off and he goes into autopilot, walking around with no destination or care. People generally move out of the way for him simply because of his sheer size and bulk, so the fact that he’s hardly paying attention doesn’t hurt him, at all.

After about 45 minutes of aimlessly walking, he finds a booth with food that looks amazing and his stomach pulls at his insides. Guess his mind and body were working together in some capacity, as Jason hadn’t truly had the idea to get a meal, but now with it right in front of him, he’s realizing he’s famished. When he pays, he waves off the change that the cook tries to hand back to him.

Before he digs into whatever soup noodle bowl thing he’s been served, he takes a quick picture and sends it off to Tim. He’s not sure if he sends it as a specifically them-coded olive branch, just in case Tim’s mad, or if he does it because he’s lonely and still can’t get Tim off of his mind. Probably both, honestly.

“That looks delicious, holy cow,” Tim purrs into his ear. He groans a little and sighs. “Morning. You slept a long time. I checked in a few times and every time you were still knocked out. Did you know you snore?”

Jason closes his eyes and exhales a relieved sigh. So, Tim’s anger had been something he made up in his head. He needed to get it together and stop always assuming negative intentions. Doesn’t matter that people have been like that with him before, what matters is Tim hasn’t been like that with him, ever.

“Hi, Birdy,” Jason says fondly, “Sorry for sleeping so long. I didn’t want you to think I was mad at you.”

“I didn’t think that,” Tim says, sounding concerned, “I was worried at first but then I remembered the Ambien and figured you were sleeping off a rough night. It’s good to rest and recover.”

Jason snorts, “Coming from you?”

He slurps up some of the noodles and has to hold back a groan. It’s fucking delicious and he’s now starting to regret not exploring the street food while he’s been in the city. He’d never get shit like this back home. Or in Switzerland.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a hypocrite, I know,” Tim jokes sarcastically. He makes a noise and Jason hears a popping of joints as Tim stretches, “Your bed is so fucking comfortable but your couch is horrible. I prefer the floor over it.”

“Wow! Hey,” Jason says around a mouthful of noodles. The couch is bad but it’s definitely better than the floor, thank you very much. “I’ll have you know Roy gave me that couch, so even though it’s low quality, it’s from my low-quality loving bastard.”

Tim laughs and goes quiet. Jason raises an eyebrow at the sudden change. Maybe he shouldn’t have possessively said Roy was his. He didn’t think of the guy that way, not like how he was possessive of Tim.

“Uh,” Tim says awkwardly, “Did you order something? There’s knocking.”

Jason straightens and looks forward, furrowing his brows. Nothing should be arriving at his place, ever. He never uses that apartment for deliveries. “No,” Jason answers. His brain kicks into high gear— what if Leslie or the Prime Minister had sent people to Gotham? She had threatened Tim’s life already and she knew of him, so—

“I’m gonna answer,” Tim says casually, “I have my bo staff—”

“Wait, Tim, no,” Jason cautions, adrenaline shooting through his body, “Don’t—”

The sound of his front door opening nearly makes him upchuck the portion of the meal he had just eaten.

“Oh, well. This is interesting.”

Even though the voice is distant, Jason immediately recognizes it and he doesn’t relax from the familiarity.

“Hi,” Tim says awkwardly. He sounds extremely embarrassed about whatever situation he’s found himself in, “Um. What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for Jace,” Dick says, sounding surprised and a little pissed off, “What the hell are you wearing?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. There’s a lot to unpack here. Tim surprising Dick, Tim at Jason’s place, and Tim wearing something Dick finds shocking. He hopes Tim’s in his sweater. God, he loves this, he loves being a fly on the wall to his own melodrama, even though he can’t see what’s going on. The lack of visuals almost makes it sweeter.

Jason chuckles darkly and continues eating. It really is like a meal and a show, with the food acting more as an appetizer to the main course of the show.

“Jason’s in Beijing,” Tim replies, sidestepping the question, “What’d you need him for?”

“And you know where he’s at because…?” Dick asks with an attitude. He sighs. “Will you please allow me in?”

“Fine,” Tim spits. Jason hears the door close but he doesn’t hear Dick walk in. He doesn’t like the idea of Dick being in his apartment with Tim.

“Timmy, I’m not fucking stupid,” Dick says exasperatedly, “You’re here, in his apartment, in his clothes, knowing where he is and getting defensive. I know what this means— what– what this adds up to!”

“I’m doing what you told me—”

“When I said ‘get laid’ I did not mean go off with Jason!” Dick barks, sounding an awful lot like Batman. The aggression hits Jason harshly and he can’t imagine how Tim must be feeling.

“Jesus, I’d knock that fucker out if I was there,” Jason mumbles bitterly. He stands abruptly from his seat, nearly knocking over the shitty little barstool that makes a home under the counter of the food stand. Nobody gives him a second glance. 

He needs to walk, or run, or do something. He can’t keep sitting here feeling like this. It was fun at first to be an observer but now he just feels helpless and stupid for not being able to stick up for Tim. 

“Stop,” Tim says.

Jason isn’t sure if it’s to him or to Dick. He knows Tim can’t see him, he’s only got the headset in like Jason has his in.

“Stop what?! Tim, I didn’t even know you had sex—”

“Why?” Tim asks, taking control of the conversation. The question is sharp, and angry, and Jason knows that there’s going to be a killer follow-up. It’s not a real question, it’s a trap. “Cause I’m trans?”

There it is. Jason’s eyebrows shoot up and he holds in a breath at the accusation. He isn’t sure if Dick knows or not and if he doesn’t, he hopes he’s not one of the crowd of people that Jason would happily rid the planet of.

“What? No! Tim, don’t pull that card on me!” Dick exclaims and Jason lets out the breath he had been holding in. He backs away from the food stall and turns, walking amongst the gaggle of people that have no idea he’s listening in on this bullshit.

“You know I don’t think like that,” Dick continues, lowering his voice and sounding more like he’s pleading for Tim to reason with him, “I was with Kori and Babs for forever, why would I think that?! Why would you think that’s me?!”

“Because you’re a fucking asshole!” Tim yells at him, the volume of his voice juxtaposing Dick’s softened tone, “Why do you always do this to me?!”

Jason needs to gather his bearings, this conversation is spinning around his brain and clunking against his skull, making him feel tired and confused and annoyed. He steps into an alleyway, out of the crowd, into an offshoot of the city that only the locals would really know. There’s a group of men standing around a small fire that they’re extremely enamored with and Jason smells the burning of materials he’s unfamiliar with. He doesn’t give a fuck about what they’re doing, he’s too preoccupied with hyper focusing on Tim’s tone, his breathing, his everything that he can only hear because he’s not there to help him.

“Birdy, hey, breathe,” Jason says calmly, “It’s alright, he’s just—”

“God, shut up, Jason!” Tim hisses, “I can fight my own battles!”

“I know you can!” Jason argues, “I’m not saying you can’t!”

“Then stop trying to butt in!”

“Are you talking to him? Right now?” Dick asks. He sounds a bit panicked, which confuses Jason. “Tim— are you hearing voices again?”

Oh, right. Jason didn’t forget about the mental breakdown story, he just doesn’t really know the details like Dick does since he was there for a portion of it. Maybe for all of it, Jason’s not sure.

“Yes!” Tim exclaims. He lowers his voice and quickly says, “I mean. No. I’m— God. No, I’m not hearing voices, and yes, I’m talking to him. You know how a fucking earpiece works.”

“Give it to me,” Dick says. He doesn’t sound demanding when he says it. In fact, it almost sounds like a suggestion, not a demand.

“He’s real,” Tim says as the headpiece scrapes. Tim sounds farther away when he says, “Listen.”

There’s a brief pause as Jason waits for Dick to acknowledge him. He doesn’t know what to say but he knows that the white noise of the city is enough to prove that someone is actually on the other end of the line. He pulls out a cigarette and his zippo, lighting the stick as he waits.

“Jace?” Dick asks.

Jason pulls the first drag and continues to inhale the night air through his teeth, feeling a little obnoxious about making Dick wait for a response. “Hi, Dickiebird,” Jason acknowledges, hoping that the nickname will gain him some sympathy points. He exhales the smoke and watches it fade into the night. He’s not really here to start any sort of fight, especially if he’s not there in person.

A person on a bike swings into the alleyway and rings a bell loudly. The person starts to yell at the men around the fire, who all immediately scramble once they’re confronted. Interesting.

“Where the hell are you?” Dick asks once the commotion dies down.

Jason scoffs and rolls his eyes, “I’m in fucking Beijing like Tim said. Didn’t you listen?”

“I did! It’s—”

“Why the fuck are you at my place?” Jason asks with a sharpness to his voice. He’s not like Tim, he doesn’t lay traps in the form of questions, he just immediately strikes when he can, which is almost always. He takes another drag and waits.

“Oh, my God,” Dick groans, “Why am I the bad guy in this situation?!”

“You’ve got a lousy defense,” Jason says sarcastically, “Just answer the damn question.”

“I came here to ask you for fucking help with Tim!”

That surprises Jason. His brows furrow and he isn’t sure what to say in response to that, so he waits. He’s not known as the gentle type by anyone so why come to him for help?

“But it…it looks like you’re already taking good care of him,” Dick says, relieved, “You look great, Tim. You look like you’re sleeping and eating, which is good. That’s good.”

Jason’s glad that Dick is acknowledging Tim in the room, instead of talking about him to Jason like he isn’t there. That’s a new development from Dick.

“I’m going to therapy, too,” Tim points out. 

Jason didn’t know that. When the fuck does Tim have time for therapy?

“Great, that’s great!” Dick says enthusiastically. Jason can imagine him and the way he’s probably using his hands to emphasize his approval.

“And I’m getting laid. Like, a lot,” Tim says bluntly.

Jason barks out a sudden laugh, and it’s loud and obnoxious, but holy shit he would kill to see Dick’s face right now.

“Oh, my— oh, my god,” Dick mumbles, “Okay that’s…that’s great, too?”

“Don’t sound confused,” Jason snorts, “You gave him the Dick Grayson cocktail. You’re reaping what you sowed.”

“Okay, next topic,” Dick says quickly. He knows he’s going to lose in a battle with Jason and Tim, so it’s smart of him to move on, Jason’ll give him that much.

“Why are you here?” Tim asks again, sounding agitated.

“Okay, first off, please stop sounding so upset by my presence,” Dick begs with a sigh, “Second off, I didn’t know where you were. I thought maybe Jason would know or would be able to get someone to find you. He’s better at that than I am.”

Jason raises an eyebrow and bites the inside of his cheek, flicking the half-smoked cigarette into a puddle of water. He’s not wrong, exactly, but if Jason hadn’t been informed of Tim’s mental situation and hadn’t been on calls with him for the last nearly 4 months, he probably wouldn’t have given a shit. It sucks to admit but hey, that’s who he is. He doesn’t get involved in shit that doesn’t need him.

“I’ve been here,” Tim says, “See?”

Jason doesn’t know what Tim means by that but when he hears Dick make a soft “Oh,” He figures Tim is showing him a pile of clothes or something.

“Okay, um, I guess you’re pretty serious,” Dick chuckles, clearly uncomfortable.

Jason doesn’t know what he means by that. A pile of clothing was not serious by any means.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees. He sighs, “Can I have the headset back? I feel really weird not having him with me.”

Jason has to hide his face in his hand as he grins, a blooming feeling of possessiveness bursting in his chest. God, he loves him.

He almost says it, too, forgetting that the headset is in Dick’s ear. He’s not embarrassed by it literally at all but he’d much rather Tim hear it first.

The headset makes its way back to Tim and he sighs a bit, sounding much clearer than before.

“Hi,” Tim says softly like he does whenever he calls Jason right as Jason wakes up.

“Hi, yourself,” Jason says fondly.

Tim makes a little hum in response. “So, why did you need to find me?” he asks Dick, back on topic.

“The board was wondering where you’ve been since you’ve been working remotely for so long,” Dick says with no hesitation, “I didn’t tell them the details but I did let them know you’ve been dealing with some personal stressors.”

“Ugh, Dick, goddammit,” Tim groans, “You know it’s already been a battle for me to gain their respect, now they’re gonna go back to thinking I’m some kid—”

“No, no!” Dick says, “They don't! They were worried about you! They even suggested taking a vacation as a company outing sort of thing.”

“What.” Tim says flatly, unamused, “Bruce wouldn’t even allow that, not on such short notice.”

“But he did,” Dick says, sounding a bit too chipper about it, “He even agreed to it, although he’s in Argentina on fake Wayne business, moonlighting a case with Robin, so he won’t be going. It’ll only be for 5 days, come on Tim.”

Jason rolls his eyes. He knows that no matter where they end up hauling Tim, he’ll be in front of his laptop and on call with Jason the entire time unless members of the board really push him to leave. It’ll be a waste of time and money.

“Do I have to go?” Tim whines. It makes Jason chuckle. Normally an attitude like that about a five-star vacation that’s free would piss him off but he feels kinda bad for the guy right now. Being in another country with your board members probably sucks ass. At least Jason is alone here, in Beijing, and he’ll be alone in Switzerland.

“You can pick where to go,” Dick offers, sounding a little more desperate at the prospect.

Before Jason can even react, Tim’s saying, “Switzerland,” with a little too much speed.

Jason raises an eyebrow and doesn’t say anything. There’s no way Dick would just go along with this, Tim replied way too quickly and way too breathlessly—

“Awesome!” Dick says happily, clapping his hands. Jason can hear the wide grin that’s probably close to breaking his face. “A trip to the Alps would be perfect! You know Lenny’s always going on about loving Europe.”

“Exactly,” Tim says stiffly, sounding like he has no idea who Lenny is or his love of Europe, “When would we be going?”

“Let’s say in 3 days? Does that give you enough time?”

“Plenty,” Tim immediately says.

Holy shit, Jason can barely believe what he’s hearing.

“Are you going to be there?” Tim asks innocently. He adds an uptick in his vocal cadence at the word ‘you’ that Jason picks up on. It’s a question for Jason but it’s easy to mask it as a question for Dick.

“Yes,” Jason immediately replies.

“No, I won’t be going,” Dick says, not knowing that the question isn’t really for him, “Since B and R are out of town and you’ll be out, along with now knowing Jason’s in Beijing, someone’s gotta be here to keep the place locked down.”

Jason checks his watch and sees that it’s getting close to his redeye flight’s time. He ducks out of the alleyway and back into the chaos of the crowd. He doesn’t want to hang up on Tim and he would hate this wasted time on their call if it hadn’t resulted in Tim somehow weaseling his way into landing a company trip to the exact location Jason’s flying to.

Which Jason can still barely believe is happening. Things don’t normally line up for him but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s about to take this and run with it like his life fucking depends on it— he rolled up to life’s casino tonight and pulled straight 7s at the slots on his first pull, he’s not about the question the legitimacy of the machine. In between now and when Tim arrives will be the longest 3 days of his fucking life but he’ll suffer through it willingly, so long as he does see Tim.

“Alright, I’ll head out,” Dick says, “Have fun in Switzerland.”

“Yeah,” Tim says weakly, “See ya.”

Jason hears the door of his place open and close, and at the click of the lock turning Tim lets out a sigh.

“I’ve also gotta head out soon,” Jason says with regret, “My flight’s soon so I’m heading to the airport.”

“Send me where you’re staying,” Tim says, “It better not be a shithole.”

Jason laughs and shakes his head, “I actually picked a good spot. It looks gorgeous. Probably fits the Drake-Wayne standard.”

Tim hums.

“Why’d you lie about going to therapy?” Jason asks as he hails down another cab. God, he hates these things.

“I didn’t,” Tim says.

Jason snorts as he pulls on the handle of the cab’s door, tossing his duffel bag and backpack into the unoccupied seat.

“Airport,” he says to the driver, who nods in understanding. Jason shifts his focus back to Tim, “How long are your sessions, then? Like 30 seconds?”

“They’re 3 hours every other day,” Tim says, sounding confused, “Why?”

“What?” Jason asks, concerned, “When the fuck do you do them? You’re always on the phone with me. Are you not sleeping?”

“I am sleeping,” Tim replies, getting a little cagey with his tone, “It’s all over text. I do virtual therapy because when I go in person I get spooked and can’t talk.”

So that’s why he’s always typing in the background of their calls. Jason had assumed it was just work stuff but now learning that it was therapy sessions made him uneasy. Shouldn’t Tim be dedicating all of his focus to the session, not dividing it between him and the therapist?

“Being on call with you helps, too,” Tim says, almost as if he read Jason’s mind, “My therapist said it’s good to find a comfortable way to talk about these things.”

“But you didn’t tell me,” Jason sighs, “Keep me in the loop about this sort of thing. I don’t mind being there but I gotta know, otherwise, it’s just weird in my mind. Like I’m participating in an event I’m not aware of.”

“Oh,” Tim says softly, “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t think about it like that.”

“It’s okay, Birdy,” Jason says, leaning back against the stiff leather of the backseat. It’s peeling and cracked and reminds Jason of his couch back home.

The airport’s run-on ramp comes into view and Jason sees the blinking of the airplane beacon lights overhead. There are so many of them, Jason vaguely wonders how many flights come in and out of this place every hour. It has to be a crazy number that would drive him insane if he actually knew it.

“I’ve gotta go,” Jason says softly, “I’m pulling in. I’ll call you when I land, yeah?”

“Okay,” Tim replies. He makes a noise that sounds like he’s contemplating something that he’s unsure of.

“What’s up?” Jason asks.

“I love you,” Tim says softly, shyly, like he’s afraid of Jason’s reaction.

Jason can feel the blush on his face at the words and he remembers how Tim had said them two nights ago, as well. He coughs into his hand and clears his throat.

“I love you, too,” Jason says a little too loudly but he doesn’t care, he’s happy to finally say it and not have Tim cutting him off about it.

Tim giggles before cutting the line, seemingly satisfied with Jason’s eagerness to reciprocate the sentiment.

Jason smiles and shakes his head before exiting the cab and entering the airport.

Jason forgets to turn his phone on when he lands, too groggy from the shitty sleep he had on the flight. He’s barely made it to the hotel in one piece when he remembers his phone exists and that Tim was probably waiting for him to text him.

The device powers on and freezes almost immediately as it adjusts its timezone and receives too many notifications for Jason to be happy about. He pockets it and goes through the motions of checking in at the front desk, deciding at the last second to upgrade to the nicest suite they have available. It’s not really to impress Tim but Jason thinks the thought will mean something to him.

The room he gets is one step below their “Lover’s Suite” because he thinks that would be a little too much for him to upgrade to. It’s too cheesy and over the top for him.

Besides, he likes the room he gets, anyway. There are two queen-sized beds in it with plenty of room to spare, and the bathroom that’s attached has a claw foot tub that looks way larger than the tub he’s got at home. The toilet has its own room which freaks him out a little bit but he guesses it’ll be nice to have things separated at some point.

Once he has swept the room for any hidden mics or cameras, he settles in and kicks off his boots, flopping onto the bed on his back as he looks at his phone.

He makes a face when he sees 9 texts from Tim, all sent at different times. Every other notification doesn’t mean shit to him, even the texts from Dick and Roy.

One of Tim’s messages is a massive wall of text explaining that he won’t be able to call because he has to do crunch work in the office due to the sudden vacation, which upsets Jason only because he doesn’t want Tim to be stressed. And if it’s because he’s selfish about wanting Tim’s time, that’s between himself and God.

Another text is a picture of a dog that Tim saw on his walk to the office. The body of the message has a bunch of exclamation points and it makes Jason laugh.

The rest are of miscellaneous things, like a picture of a latte with a chocolate croissant, and a picture Tim took of himself in the reflection of a building’s dark window. His hair is considerably longer than Jason remembers it being and he scrolls through their media tab, trying not to get distracted by the risqué photos, and he finally finds the picture of Tim with the milkshake. Jason notices his hair looks short so he wonders if it was tied back or something. Either way, he likes the look of the long hair and he’s happily surprised by it.

It takes a moment before Jason realizes that the last text is a link to an encrypted document that’s hidden pretty deeply on one of the Bat servers. He raises an eyebrow at it and accesses it, needing to jog his memory a bit on how to get to this shit on mobile.

When the link opens, it’s a massive file that has multiple folders with subfolders that are all meticulously labeled and organized in a fashion that impresses Jason. It’s a huge amount of information about the case and anyone even remotely involved in it, each having their own subfolder with their name in all capital letters as the folder’s title. Some names Jason recognizes and others he doesn’t, so he knows Tim must have found more people involved. Everything from birth certificates, tax files, police files, newspaper clippings, their country’s economic patterns, political litigation, personal bank accounts, and wire transfers done within the last decade— everything is included and Jason nearly cums from how perfect it is.

He had no fucking idea that Tim was doing this for him.

Curiously enough, the folder titled LESLIE HUANG is color-coded red and when Jason opens it, he realizes why. The folder is completely empty except for a single screenshot of a camera’s feed showing her walking into the room where Jason had met her. He can see the top of his own head in the bottom left corner, so Tim must have caught this right before warning Jason of the lack of security.

Jason grimaces at the memory of that encounter. He’s glad nothing came of it but fuck, was it fucking weird.

He shoots off a text in response to everything, even going as far as to give Tim a couple of sentences in reply instead of just an emoji or two. He wishes he could call him to thank him. 

He goes back to the link and notices that there’s a notepad file titled ‘READ ME’ that’s on the main page and not in its own folder. He opens it up and sees the next day’s date with a latitude and longitude coordinate, with the words ‘GO HERE @ TIME + DATE. WAIT FOR ME TO GET THERE.’

Jason stares at the instructions and sighs. He doesn’t want Tim to take on the case in person but he also can’t really deny the fact that it’s somewhat inevitable. They would both be here, they’d both been on it for nearly the same amount of time, and Tim had built that file for who knows how many weeks. If anything, Jason thinks Tim deserves to work on the case in person while he’s here. Dick will fucking kill him but Jason’s never been one to consider or care about every opinion about his actions.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, knowing that he’ll have to delicately cross that bridge in a few days.

Switzerland is fucking cold. Jason feels like his balls are going to freeze and then he’s going to have to castrate himself so that the frostbite doesn’t spread. It seems like a pretty okay idea at first. Anything to save him from this pain.

He’s at the location Tim had given him and he understands the purpose of giving coordinates rather than an address when he arrived. There’s a warehouse out here that doesn’t show on Google maps currently and it doesn’t pop up when Jason scrolls back throughout the years, so there’s no legitimate address to link it to. There’s no evidence of building or property deeds, so this thing’s got to mean something to someone shady. And Jason’s pretty certain he knows who owns it. Or, at least, she probably utilizes it, even if a buddy of hers is the one who owns it.

 There’s the crunching of snow behind Jason, indicating that someone is approaching him, but they’re not being stealthy about it.

When Jason turns and sees Tim in his Red Robin suit, he feels like his head has exploded into a dazzling, if not dramatic, display of fireworks. He lifts his faceplate and blinks a few times to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Did he fall asleep in the snow and freeze to death? He feels warm now.

“Hi,” Tim says with a wide grin on his face.

Jason launches himself at Tim and they both go down gracelessly, laughing and giggling as Jason rolls them around the snow, too happy to care about the cold anymore. Tim puts up a playful fight and even tries to get Jason under him with a good amount of effort. It’s turning Jason on to finally have Tim physically squirming under him, not just verbally squirming on the other end of the line.

“Holy fuck, hi,” Jason breathes once he’s got Tim pinned down under him. He grabs his face and smashes their mouths together, uncaring about impressing him with a romantic kiss that’ll blow his socks off.

Tim laughs into the kiss and brings his hands up to Jason’s face, shaking the snow off of them before grabbing him and pushing his face away with a smarmy smirk, raising an eyebrow at Jason.

Jason knows Tim can feel how hard he is and he’s not shy about it.

“I will fuck you right here, right now, don’t even try me, Birdy,” Jason says with a devilish grin. He’s being serious, too, and he knows that Tim knows it.

Tim rolls his eyes with a smile he’s trying to suppress. “I’m still on my period,” he says.

“I don’t care,” Jason says quickly before ducking his face down, placing a bite at the spot where the collar of Tim’s costume ends.

“Well, I care,” Tim laughs as he pushes against Jason’s chest, “So stop cause I’m already so pent up from that fucking video, I don’t need you getting handsy with me and torturing me more.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Jason jokes as he rolls off of Tim, starfishing in the snow.

He tugs Tim down on top of him when Tim tries to get up, making the other huff a bit, but he’s still smiling and he isn’t throwing a fit about it so Jason knows he’s in the clear. “I’ll be good to go tomorrow, you fiend,” Tim jokes, poking Jason’s nose.

Jason doesn’t react to the poke. He rubs the back of his fingers against Tim’s cheek softly and looks at his face fondly. “But seriously, I’m so fucking glad to see you,” Jason whispers. He knows some things are meant to be secret and aren’t meant to be heard, but this isn’t one of those things. He’ll keep reminding Tim of the same thing over and over again, even if he gets sick of it.

Tim tilts his face against Jason’s hand and closes his eyes, nodding in agreement. He heaves a sigh and whispers, “Yeah, me too. God, me too.”

Something tugs at Jason’s insides hearing Tim sound so relieved to be with him. He cups Tim’s cheek and leans up, pressing their mouths together gently, more like a first kiss that couples should have.

It’s innocent and means everything to Jason, and he would probably forget about the snow and the warehouse and literally the whole world if Tim wasn’t pushing against him, separating himself from the kiss.

“Let’s get going,” Tim says softly, “We got shit to do before they roll up.”

“Okay,” Jason replies, half-dazed. He didn’t realize that anyone was coming but it makes sense because why else would Tim give him a specific time and location to show up to?

“I haven’t seen anyone driving in or out by the usual routes they take,” Tim says as he lifts himself. He pats himself down, cleaning himself of the snow and dirt that sticks to his suit. “So I don’t think they’re here tonight. But I did intercept a phone call between Prime Minister Huang and someone in the British parliament, and it sounded like someone is being sent out here tomorrow, so I’m hoping it’s Leslie because they weren’t mentioning names or pronouns.”

“So why be here now? Shouldn’t we show tomorrow?” Jason asks, following Tim’s lead in cleaning himself off. He’s starting to notice the temperature again and how the tips of his fingers are numb.

“We will show tomorrow,” Tim nods, “I wanted to get in there now to take pictures and attach them to the case file I’ve got programmed to auto-send late tonight.”

God, Tim really fucking thinks of everything. There’s no way Jason would have this much foresight, this much preplanned bullshit. He’s a great soldier but not the best detective, he can admit it, but he’s starting to feel like he and Tim need to keep pairing up together on shit because they balance one another out so well. He doesn’t mind being the brawn to Tim’s brains.

“To who? FBI? MI6?”

Tim shakes his head, “Not MI6, they’re neck deep in this shit and trying to facilitate it just as badly as China is. Usually, America wouldn’t get involved but since it’s supposed to hit their ports, I’ve dropped a decent amount of information into their servers through anonymous tips and they’ve been moving in the shadows about it. This is CIA work, and since it’s coming through Swiss territory, FIS has been in communications with them, too, and they’re planning on dropping in tomorrow night.”

Jason stares at Tim, shocked by the information. Jason’s only plan was to blow the place up and call it a day.

“What?” Tim asks, looking Jason over.

“You’re just so good at this shit,” Jason says, shrugging, “It blows my mind.”

Tim blushes and looks away. “Um, thanks,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, “I didn’t really have anything else to do.”

Jason knows that’s not true. He’s been working at WE, has been helping Jason, and has legitimately been working on his mental shit even if no one has noticed. Hell, even Jason wasn’t sure of everything he’d been doing. He just found out about the therapy a few nights ago.

“Let’s get in there and get what’s needed,” Jason says, throwing his head in the direction of the warehouse, deciding to not fight Tim on this right now, “I can keep watch once we make sure the place is clear.”

Tim nods and a look of concentration replaces his blush, making him look confident and closer to the Tim Jason remembers from the last time they saw each other in person. When was that even? Maybe 8 months ago? A year? Whenever it was, Jason’s glad it’s in the past. He likes this version of Tim, and of himself, much more.

They scope out the warehouse, ensuring the perimeter is secure and that the inside is empty of any random loitering bodies that could become security risks to them. No one is in the warehouse and it takes Tim a hot minute to hack into the security system that’s locking the place down pretty solidly, but not solidly enough to keep Tim out. He’s messing with the keys and typing on them fast and efficiently despite the keyboard setup being different from the style Jason is used to, and Jason wonders if the system is in another language, too. Tim doesn’t seem to be struggling with it so maybe it’s in English.

Ten minutes pass by of Tim grunting and working on overriding the thing, and when the system runs a way that makes Tim give a little whoop, Jason knows they’re golden. Tim gives him a thumbs up and Jason hears the door next to them click open with all of the internal lights dimming from it. Only the outdoor floodlights are on and the place looks eerie as hell to Jason when he peaks into the darkness. There’s a glint that appears in the corner of Jason’s eye and he nearly jumps out of his skin from it, but he realizes it’s just a metal chair catching and reflecting a beam from the floodlights.

Tim slips in with no issue or hesitation, undisturbed by the darkness. Or the chair. 

And he’s in and out quickly, only taking his time to glance around the place, probably mapping it out in his head. Jason stays in his designated spot with his gun drawn, ready for any sudden surprises, but nothing comes out of the shadows. He’s not sure what they do here, seeing as how most of the warehouse is empty, so he thinks they probably use the place as some sort of transitional point from one hemisphere to the other.

“They had a massive fucking container in the back,” Tim says as they leave the warehouse. He’s back to playing with the security system, typing on it quicker than before, “It smelled weird.”

Jason looks at him quickly, worried that he might have been exposed without realizing, “How do you feel right now?”

“Fine,” Tim shrugs, “Not any hornier than usual. I don’t think it was the drug. It smelled like…”

He trails off and makes a face.

“Like what?” Jason asks.

“Like decomposing bodies,” Tim mumbles. He starts typing again.

Oh. That’s not good.

“Do you want me to go back in and check it out?” Jason offers. He’s not exactly excited about the idea but he’d much rather it be him checking that shit out than Tim.

“No,” Tim says flatly. He clicks a key with finality and the screen goes black. “If it’s bodies, that’s not really anything we can do. We can leave that for the government to clean up.”

“You mean ignore,” Jason scoffs. He knows agencies would just let this shit go cold, uncaring about the potential families and friends those hypothetical bodies have.

“Yeah,” Tim nods, turning away from the security system and walking back out towards the woods that surround the warehouse, “I do mean that, unfortunately.”

They stay quiet the whole way back to the hotel. It’s not awkward, it’s just silence that’s needed to remain stealthy. It’s the dead of night, probably close to 1 or 2AM by the time they’re booking it back to the hotel, but they still take extra precautions to not be seen. It’s easier for Tim to camouflage into the night since his suit is so dark but Jason’s jacket catches the minimal light that the half-full moon provides, so he takes a more roundabout way to return to the hotel.

Once Jason gets back to the room safely, he sees Tim has already undressed and switched into sweats and an oversized shirt. It takes a second for Jason to realize that the shirt is his and it does something funny to his brain, making him want to jump Tim and throw him onto the bed. He looks away from him to the bags on the floor, remembering how Tim had said he was on his period and didn’t want Jason to get handsy with him.

“When’d you get in?” Jason asks, trying to not get distracted by the way Tim’s looking at him, sitting on the edge of the bed with wide eyes and an innocent expression. He takes off his helmet and sighs at the feeling of the hotel room’s heat hitting his face.

“Like 6 minutes ago,” Tim says.

Jason shakes his head, chucking off his jacket and disarming his protective plates. He pulls out the gun that’s been in the holster on his hip and empties it of the magazine, placing the pieces softly on the table, “I meant to Switzerland.”

“Who cares,” Tim says, and before Jason can give him a questioning look, he’s up from the bed and pushing at Jason’s chest, knocking him against the wall, “Take your fucking pants off.”

“Woah, what?” Jason asks breathlessly, “I thought you said you didn’t want to be touched?”

“I don’t,” Tim says, pulling Jason’s shirt out from how it’s tucked into his pants, “But I want to suck your dick.”

“Are you— are you serious?” Jason asks. He feels his brain start to go offline and feels the way his body’s reacting to the request, his heart beating hard and fast.

“Yes,” Tim says plainly. He gives Jason a once over and says, “Unless you don’t want me to?”

“You’re fucking insane,” Jason immediately replies, his hand going to the back of Tim’s head and gripping at his hair, pushing his face into Jason’s chest. Tim gasps at the sudden force but he doesn’t protest. “Of course I want you to choke on my cock,” Jason says, his voice already developing the huskiness it gets when they’re on call.

Except, now they’re not on call, they’re very much in person, and Tim is very much sputtering and reacting similarly to the first time they ever started their escapades. Jason pushes Tim down and he easily falls to his knees, his face dusting darker and his eyelids drooping.

Tim’s hands work swiftly and he keeps his eyes glued to Jason’s bulge, growing redder the closer he gets to his goal. He inhales sharply when he frees Jason’s cock, staring at it for a moment before he looks up at him with a glare.

“Fuck you for always knocking 2 inches off,” Tim says before licking a long, bold stripe from the base of Jason’s dick to the underside of the head.

Jason doesn’t even have the ability to respond to the comment, too riled up from the fact that Tim’s on his knees for him, from the fact that Tim’s actually, finally with Jason in person, and then Tim’s doing something crazy with his tongue and lips that nearly makes Jason cry and threatens to push him over the edge.

“J-Jesus, Birdy,” he struggles to say, “I’m not— I’m not gonna last long cause I haven’t done anything since—”

And Jason almost loses it right there because Tim starts humming around what he’s got in his mouth, with his fingers dragging against the bottom of Jason’s balls, going right under and pressing a little behind them. He’s finding new areas of Jason’s body that Jason didn’t even know he liked being touched.

“Fuck,” Jason hisses. He wants more of Tim’s mouth on him and he’s feeling greedy, so he tightens his hold on Tim’s hair and pushes his head forward.

The surprised noise he makes in reaction to Jason’s demand sends a spark down Jason’s spine, landing in the lower area of his back, and Jason pulls back a fraction of an inch, trying to give Tim a hint.

Tim closes his eyes and loosens his jaw, bringing his hand up from where it had been on Jason’s shin, and he wraps his hand around Jason’s cock tightly like he’s trying to punish Jason. If it’s a punishment for his behavior then Jason was looking forward to breaking Tim’s rules more in the future.

Jason rocks forward, testing Tim’s limits more, and is surprised when Tim takes him with only a whine that vibrates up Jason’s dick. He’s sliding in and out, hitting the back of Tim’s throat but not going further, and Tim’s humming happily the faster Jason makes his thrusts.

Tim pulls back and coughs once he’s freed himself but his hand works in fluid motion that pulls at Jason just right and before he can warn Tim, Jason’s orgasm is hitting him like a bullet train and he’s groaning a rough sigh as his cum shoots all over Tim’s face.

Jason’s brain is being dragged down through the orgasmic high as he apologizes, feeling bad about not at least warning Tim, “Shit, shit, sorry—”

“Please,” Tim whispers, sounding desperate. Jason’s not sure what he’s asking for until Tim pats the hand that has a death grip on the back of his head.

“Oh, fuck, sorry Birdy—”

Jason had thought his hold was too rough for him but once his grip loosens a bit, Tim leans forward and takes Jason back into his mouth, going as far forward as he can before he starts gagging and shaking.

Jason bucks forward and starts curling in on himself, over Tim, because the overstimulation is painful as fuck in the ways that’ll keep Jason around much longer than any normal person would stay.

“Tim,” Jason growls, “Fucking Christ.”

A tear escapes Tim’s eye as he concentrates on relaxing his throat and not gagging. It’s too much and soon enough, even with Jason softening in his throat, he pulls off and falls backward, the cum on his face and in his bangs now a bit dry.

Jason leans back against the wall and lets out a shaky sigh as he pulls his pants back up, just to cover himself. He doesn’t button them.

A small whine escapes Tim as he levels his breathing, his back against the foot of the bed and his limbs sprawled out. He almost looks like he’s in pain and fear crashes into Jason hard, setting off every bad part of his brain that hates himself. This had been their first ever encounter in person, what if he had hurt him? He didn’t deserve Tim, he should just run and never let Tim near him again because he only brought bad things to people he loved, and Tim deserves so much better than him.

“Tim, fuck, I’m sorry,” Jason whispers, going to his knees to be at Tim’s eye level, “Shit, I’m—”

“Jason, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Tim says confusedly. His voice sounds rough, “I’m just so fucking horny I feel like I’m going to die from it.”

“No, I can’t,” Jason says, his hands shaking as he grabs at his hair, “I’m so sorry, I think we shouldn’t do this, you and me, we should end it, I’m not good—”

“Woah, hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay” Tim coos, his voice soft and caring with no sign of offense, “Breathe in and breathe out. You’re safe here, I promise.”

Jason doesn’t know what’s happening but he follows Tim’s instructions and curls in on himself next to Tim.

Tim lifts himself onto his knees and throws his arms around Jason’s shoulders, holding him and repeating little mantras that Jason barely understands, but they somehow work despite the panicked brain fog he wouldn’t have been able to navigate on his own.

It takes a few minutes but once Jason’s calmed down enough to be back in his body, he groans.

“Does this happen often?” Tim asks in a whisper, “Do you get upset like this after sex?”

“Sometimes. It’s rare,” Jason admits. He feels a little ashamed about it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I know,” Tim says, sounding sad.

Jason doesn’t think he gets it. “I mean about us breaking up. I don’t want that, like, at all.”

“I know,” Tim repeats, “This happens to me, too, if I drop too hard. But you’re just in the other position.”

“Yeah, Top Drop, or something,” Jason nods, feeling better since Tim knows what it is, “I looked it up once. I think I deal with that.”

Tim pulls Jason to him tighter and Jason grabs him into a hug. The press of Tim’s body against his chest helps to lower his heart rate and helps him regain his sense of self.

“We’ve both had long days,” Tim sighs against Jason’s shoulder, “We can lay down and sleep in tomorrow. I’ve already got everything set up so we don’t need to do anything other than show up.”

God, Jason wishes he could do more for Tim because the motherfucker just gives and gives, and Jason’s starting to realize how much he takes. It’s all so hard, trying to balance his own issues and how he handles relationships with everything Tim’s battling on his own.

“You do so much, all the time,” Jason sighs, “And I don’t know how to help.”

Tim stands and pulls Jason up with him. He pushes against Jason’s chest lightly and gives Jason a sad look before he crawls into the bed, under the fluffy duvet. Jason doesn’t want to drag any grossness from outside into the bed so he strips down to his underwear and leaves his clothes in a pile where he stood, uncaring about tossing everything into a hamper for the first time in his life.

“My needs are different from yours,” Tim says once Jason’s settled in the bed, under the duvet that’s less breathable than the one he has at home. He slides up against Jason and throws a leg over Jason’s hips, cuddling him. “You’re here for me when I have my emotional tantrums and you listen when I talk to you. That’s what I need.”

Jason rubs his hand against the arm that Tim has thrown over him. He supposes it’s true— even though Tim wasn’t usually a very emotional person, whenever he had his emotional outbursts Jason had always talked him through them, understanding that sometimes emotions are volatile and irrational. Jason was the fucking king of knowing that.

“I want you to be able to talk to me like I can talk to you,” Tim says softly, “I know I didn’t tell you about therapy. I’m sorry. I don’t keep shit from you on purpose, it’s something I’m working on.”

“It’s okay,” Jason says automatically. It is okay, in Jason’s book. Some things deserved to be kept only to the person involved and he felt that way about Tim’s privacy. Even if they’re dating, Jason doesn’t feel entitled to know every aspect of Tim’s life.

“It’s okay,” Jason repeats, realizing he lost his train of thought to himself, “I don’t mind. I know you’ve got a maze up there. So do I. I guess we can just learn to navigate it together sometimes and on our own other times.”

Tim nods slowly. His breathing is evening out and he’s going limper with each passing second.

Jason turns his head and kisses the crown of Tim’s head. “Love you,” he whispers into Tim’s hair.

“Mm,” Tim responds, clearly losing the battle against his exhaustion.

Again, Jason thinks about how Tim gives. He probably stayed up all night jumping between prepping WE for the vacation, perfecting the files to auto-send to different intelligence agencies around the world, and packing for the trip. Then he got on a multi-hour flight, only to meet Jason outside this warehouse and to physically take on a case that technically wasn’t his, despite how much he’s been on it.

Jason sighs and hugs Tim tighter. He’d be able to tell him how much he appreciates him in the morning after they both sleep off and reset for the crazy day that tomorrow was sure to be.

Everything goes exactly as planned, all thanks to Tim’s meticulous planning and his obsession with micromanaging.

He and Jason sat huddled together around his laptop, listening in on a call with CIA and FIS agents who, despite speaking in code, were easily discussing their plan to swarm the warehouse once night fell. It helped considerably that Tim gave them an exact ETA of Leslie’s arrival, although he wasn’t fully sure who else would be there, so he left it vague enough to spike interest but to not create any false promises. Or create any unintentional prophecies.

The time Tim had given would allow him and Jason 30 minutes for them to do their own work. It was a tight timeframe but they didn’t really have another choice. Give too much time and that creates more room for error, including the possibility of Leslie and her politician friends catching wind of things and fleeing. So, they had to work harder and smarter with this one.

Jason and Tim are both already staked out in the warehouse when Leslie walks in. She’s not alone— she has some sort of bodyguard following close behind her, along with some politicians Jason recognizes from the different galas he’d been to. Most of them are blurred faces, in his mind.

“MI6 agents are with her,” Tim whispers. They’re far enough away that they don’t really need to worry about being heard. “I recognize the redhead.”

Jason hums in acknowledgment. Another thing Tim’s good at that he’s not— remembering faces. Jason remembers the Charlie situation and grimaces under his helmet.

The bodyguard and Leslie split off from the other group, making Jason raise an eyebrow.

“Why’re they splitting?” Jason asks. His voice almost startles him. He temporarily forgot about the voice modulator in his helmet since he’s been on call with Tim via a regular earpiece for so long, and he hasn’t worn his helmet in a few weeks.

“No idea, but it’s a great opportunity for us,” Tim says softly, “I can corral the politicians. There’s more of them but I highly doubt any of them will know how to fight. Leslie and the bodyguard are another story.”

“What about the agents?” Jason asks, concerned over the idea of them splitting up. He doesn’t normally fret but he knows Tim has been out of practice for months, and taking on a group of 7, even if they are inexperienced in combat, is still a pretty decent group to manage.

“I’ll be fine, Hood,” Tim replies with a nod. He doesn’t seem upset by Jason’s question.

“Okay, fine,” Jason whispers. He grabs for his gun and aims it at the spot where the guard should be if he keeps walking in the direction and at the pace he’s currently walking. “But I’m taking the guard out now.”

“Wait,” Tim whispers, elbowing at the gun, “Not with me here.”

“What,” Jason hisses, half frustrated with Tim’s words and half scared by the fact that Tim just touched his gun when he was ready to shoot it. Didn’t he know how dangerous that was? “I don’t have anything non-lethal on me, Birdy.”

“I know,” Tim replies, sounding scared, “I can— I’ll be in the other room dealing with the others so I can turn a blind eye, but I can’t watch you do it.”

“You’ve watched me before through my mask’s camera,” Jason points out, confused by the sudden shift in Tim’s ideology.

Tim shakes his head quickly, the whites of his domino wide and even though Jason can’t see his eyes, he knows they’re filled with fear. “I disabled the cameras so I couldn’t watch after the first time. Please, I can’t handle that shit and I don’t want to spiral out here.”

Jason closes his eyes tightly and sighs, frustrated by Tim’s points.

“Fine,” he relents, “As long as you’re not in the room.”

“Thank you,” Tim whispers. He leans forward and ducks his head into Jason’s shoulder, rubbing his cheek against it roughly before he slinks away, to the other section of the warehouse with the other politicians.

Once Jason is certain that Tim’s out of the room, he moves his focus back to his gun, pulling the trigger with no hesitation.

The shots he takes are silent, like the ones he took all those weeks ago on the catwalk at the political gala in Beijing. He feels like a completely different version of himself from the one that had panicked and fled with a dramatic exit from the scene. He’d fight the fear now.

The guard goes down with no issue. Weird. The two of them must have been too egotistical to think that they’d be followed or found, so they must have not prepared for the worst.

But, it’s planned, it has to be, because the second the guard’s body makes contact with the floor, multiple alarms start shrilling and two explosives on different ends of the warehouse explode. A fire erupts along the top center beam of the warehouse, and Jason knows that it’s the beam keeping the roof from collapsing in, so the moment it gives in he and everyone in there are completely fucked. Including Tim.

Shit. Jason’s gotta move and he’s gotta move now.

He jumps down from the platform, sliding into a roll to protect his knees from the stress of taking the landing. He’s up and running at Leslie with fierce determination, feeling like a lion that’s finally gained on its prey, and even though she has a gun that she’s rapidly pulling the trigger of, the bullets miss him due to her inexperience with handling a gun under such intense pressure.

He tackles her to the ground and truly feels like he’s a predator about to rip her throat out.

“You fucking dog,” she shrieks at him, “You are an imbecile. Did you think it would be this plain?”

He wants to knock her jaw loose but he needs her to keep talking. “Kinda, yeah,” he admits as he flips her over and straddles her hips, wrapping his legs around hers in a way that makes it impossible for her to gain the upper hand. Even if it weren’t for the bulk he’s got on her, he knows how to keep someone subdued under him, and her thrashing does nothing to deter him from his goal. He grabs rope from inside his jacket and quickly binds her hands and lower arms in a way that renders her incapacitated.

“Get up,” he instructs forcefully. The room is starting to get really warm and he’s sweating like a pig already, hating the feeling of how his clothes are sticking to his body. Where’s that goddamn chair he saw the other night?

“Your stupidity is going to betray you! You will die a fool once these bombs are triggered by the heat!” she screams at him.

Oh, good. The villain monologue, this is what he needs to find more shit out about her operation as quickly as possible.

He sees the chair and starts shoving her toward it, only keeping her on her feet enough to keep her moving.

“Oh? I think I’m pretty smart. My kindergarten teacher gave me a gold star sticker one time for knowing my times tables before the other kids,” Jason says mockingly. He needs to get her talking and this is the part he’s ridiculously good at, he’s built to push people’s buttons that get them angrily and unknowingly confessing shit to him.

“You are trying to turn an inch into a mile,” she says as Jason throws her into the chair, “You do not even realize the trap you are under!”

“One nation under God is still a clown’s circus, no matter where I am,” Jason says, rolling his eyes at the vagueness of her statements. He ties her ankles to each leg of the chair and feels no need to tie her arms to the chair since she can’t free them, anyway.

“This container will poison you and persuade you to your own death!”

Jason looks up from her ankles at her, feeling more powerful than her despite crouching down with her staring down at him.

Shit. The container was definitely filled with that shit and the smell of the rotting corpses was probably a distraction to keep people away from it. He flips his filter on and stands, groaning loudly. The groan comes out sounding like a growl because of his voice modulator.

“This stupid aphrodisiac,” he says pointedly, taking his gun out from the holster and tucking it under her chin, “I swear to God—”

Leslie barks a laugh and thrashes in her seat, looking absolutely fucking insane. Her eyes are blown and even though Jason fucking hates looking at her, he notices them. “Aphrodisiac?!” she cackles, unbothered by the feeling of the gun’s barrel kissing her jaw, “A sex chemical? You believe I am that simple?”

Jason doesn’t say anything. The mask hides his face but he knows he’s wearing an expression that he’s practiced for years, one that’s a perfect poker face as he processes a new line of information.

“You men—” she spits in Jason’s face and he remains unphased, “You’re all the same, always thinking with your cocks.”

“Word on the street is that shit fucks you up in the birthday zone,” Jason says lowly, hiding his confusion. He presses the gun harder into her submental triangle, “Your candle is burning at both ends right now, so spill.”

“It’s ambition,” she hisses, “First, you must confront your fears then you can move forward with your goals. And if your ambition is to lay with someone, that is a reflection of you.”

He knows his fear— the dirt, the bugs, that’s easy for him to understand. But his ambition hadn’t been to fuck Tim, that seems like an extreme word for his circumstances. Sure, he had wanted to have sex with Tim and had been pretty pent up the first time he got hit with this shit, but it wasn’t that fucking serious.

“Why make people ambitious? Why give them that power?” Jason asks, his brain working into overdrive. 

“Your politicians are easy to sway with money, objects, power,” she answers. Her words all have bite to them and Jason can’t wait to get the fuck away from her, “And they are weak to these things. You dangle power in front of their faces and they run after it like a dog, stupid and naïve. One-track minded. No discipline.”

Jason thinks about their encounter in the room, how it had been spacious and emptied of objects, only providing the absolute necessities. How the view over Beijing felt like being on the shoulders of a giant, one much larger than the sprawling cityscape. There was no need for decadence because the idea of power had been stripped bare there, shown in its purest form. And Jason hadn’t even cared about it.

He thinks about how she had slid her hand on his thigh, acting more submissive than she had initially presented herself to him. How he could have easily thought he had more power in the situation sexually and fallen to lust.

But, he didn’t, he hadn’t. All he had done was think about Tim and how badly he had wanted to take care of him.

It clicks. Maybe that was his ambition all along. Taking care of Tim. And to Jason, that involved sex because he wanted Tim to relax under his hands. Only his hands.

“I am invested in seeing what your friend’s ambition is,” Leslie says, yanking Jason out of his thoughts, “The little ones are always the most interesting.”

“What?” Jason asks, breaking his silence. He reminds himself that they’re on a time constraint, that he’s gotta get out of here before the entire fucking UN’s arsenal of undercover cops descend on the warehouse. If they even get here before the place burns to the ground. “Shut up.”

“Hood!” Tim yells from above. He’s jumping down, right into the belly of the beast, and Jason has little time to warn him of the fact that the room’s laced with the drug. Everything’s on fucking fire, why is he jumping to him?

“Get out of here!” Jason yells at him, “The place is tainted and it’s gonna blow soon!”

Tim hesitates, his face contorting into different expressions that Jason doesn’t fully know the context of but he can put two-and-two together and figure out that Tim’s struggling behind his domino.

“Leave!” Jason bellows at him and Tim takes a step back, looking like Jason just smacked him hard across the face.

“You are so easily distracted by this one,” Leslie says condescendingly, “It’s a shame. I do not think he is worth too much. Look at the hesitation. Pathetic.”

Jason turns his attention back to her and nearly blows her brains out. His finger and the trigger have separation anxiety and he wants them to reunite so, so badly right now.

But he can’t, not with Tim in the room.

“Whatever,” he says. He lifts his foot and shoves it against the chair she’s tied to, making sure there’s enough force for it to fall over. It does, and she makes a noise of pain as she slams into the floor, helpless. “Hopefully they find you before the fire does.”

She stops squirming and looks at him with wide eyes full of fear. “You wouldn’t,” she whispers, sounding awfully childish.

Jason shrugs, “I ain’t a good boy, I don’t play by their rules. I only play by mine.” Jason brings the tip of his gun to his forehead and flings it forward, giving her a salute that he knows pisses her off, “Maybe you’ll be ambitious enough to escape, now that your life depends on it. But I wouldn’t struggle too much, those knots are pretty solid. I’m kinda good with rope and stuff, if you know what I mean.”

She shrieks at him in a language he doesn’t understand and he chuckles darkly as he begins to jog backward, turning only once he’s far enough away to feel comfortable taking his eyes off of her.

When he turns, he scans the room for Tim and finds it empty of anyone besides Leslie. A piece of wood that’s on fire falls from the ceiling and he books it, not looking back, not thinking about how she’s about to burn in a way he always has nightmares about.

It’s only once he’s outside that he lets any of the panic and stress hit him. His chest tightens and he feels nauseous from the close encounter he had with her again. He wishes this kind of shit didn’t happen to him but he’s always had a hard time letting go of traumatic events, no matter how small they might seem to someone else in his line of work.

“Red? Where you at?” Jason says into the headset.

He makes a face when he hears the feedback that the line gives whenever it’s closed. The panic spikes in him again but he pushes it down, switching over to the private line they usually use.

He hears Tim’s ragged breathing and the panic returns.

“Birdy? Where are you?” Jason asks, carefully. He doesn’t want Tim to react to his own panic, setting off a feedback loop that’ll only hurt them both.

“I don’t— are you okay? Where are you?”

He sounds like he’s been freaking out and his voice has the roughness it has after he’s been crying. Jason looks around, confused, “I’m outside the warehouse, southeast side, by the emergency exit—”

The warehouse groans as the roof collapses in completely. Jason yelps and he’s not proud of it.

“Are you okay?!” Tim nearly screams. Jesus, he was freaking out badly.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine Birdy, I’m okay,” Jason reassures him. This isn’t good, there’s too much shit that can blow, and knowing that police are on the way only makes things more complicated. He’s going to have to find Tim later.

“Meet me back at the room,” Jason instructs, “Whatever you do, don’t go anywhere else. Meet me at the room, now, understand?”

“Okay,” Tim says weakly, “I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Jason stops running abruptly and nearly falls over. He catches himself and regains his balance. “I love you, too, Birdy,” he says.

The line cuts and Jason exhales. He’s not sure what that was about but he was happy to hear it, nonetheless.

He makes it back to the hotel as quickly as he can. It’s dark enough for him to simply remove his helmet and walk past the receptionist’s counter without a show. The bulk of his protective gear and guns under his jacket and pants would only be noticed by someone who was looking at him closely, and there’s no one in the lobby to interact with, so he makes a beeline to the stairwell and takes the steps three at a time up to the 4th floor where their room is.

When he barrels through the door into the room, he sees Tim’s Red Robin costume in a heap under the window, which has been left cracked open. Good. Tim made it back and he was smart enough to air the room out in case the drug clung to him.

Jason looks around and is about to shout Tim’s name when he hears the shower running. He pokes his head into the bathroom and sees Tim sitting in the bath with the shower water hitting him directly in the face, looking dazed and confused.

“Hi, Birdy,” Jason says cautiously, feeling uneasy about seeing Tim look the way he does. It’s like he’s trying to draw a bath for himself but forgot how to. “Whatcha doing?”

Tim looks at him and his eyes look impossibly large and a bit swollen. He’s been crying.

“Hi,” Tim says weakly, “Can you help me?”

“Yeah,” Jason immediately replies despite not knowing what Tim’s asking for exactly, “Give me a second and I’ll join you if you want?”

Tim doesn’t reply, he just looks forward and tucks his knees under his chin, and sighs heavily before closing his eyes.

Jason waits for a no, or for any sort of discomfort, but Tim doesn’t give him anything. He ducks out of the bathroom and strips down to his underwear quickly, still unsure if Tim wants him to get into the bath with him.

The shower head is still running when Jason returns to the bathroom and it’s only then he realizes that Tim’s plugged the bath, so the water level is already pretty high. He reaches over and fiddles with the tiny knobs and it takes a second, but he figures out how to get the faucet going without the shower head, and he lets the tub drain a little so it won’t overflow when he gets in. He grabs the shower head from its holder and rests it on the tiled shelf that’s built into the wall next to the tub.

“Want me in there with you?” Jason asks again.

“Yeah,” Tim says, sounding clearer, “Can you wash my hair?”

Jason raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say no. He’s never done this for anyone before but he’s been having a lot of firsts with Tim so he guesses he can add this one to the list. He removes his underwear and feels a little silly because his dick has decided to wake up, but he knows he’ll be soft once he’s situated.

He whispers an apology about it and Tim shrugs, his cheeks a little red. Jason fits himself into the bath behind Tim and huffs at the sting of the warm water against his muscles.

“Do you think she died?” Tim says weakly. He sounds remorseful.

Jason sighs and shrugs, “I don’t know. I don’t sit on that kind of thing.”

“Why?” Tim asks.

Jason cups his hand under the water and brings his bounty up to Tim’s neck, dumping it onto him, “Because…if I did that with every person, I’d go crazy.”

“She didn’t exist,” Tim says. He tugs his legs closer to him, “It’s so weird. No record of her. Why erase yourself from existence like that?”

“Easier to get away with shit,” Jason replies, dumping more water on Tim’s neck. Tim’s loosening up and Jason feels his stomach warm. It’s got nothing to do with the bathwater. “You can’t reason with people like that. Especially not her. She had her ambition drug or whatever.”

“What?” Tim says, turning his head to look at Jason over his shoulder.

“Let me wash your hair,” Jason says as he leans forward, grabbing the shower head, and pressing the button on it that manually turns it on. He changes the setting of it to one that he thinks is good and he presses it against Tim’s head, making him shiver. Jason circles it around Tim’s scalp, soaking his hair.

“That drug she made; she said the motivating factor of it is to up people’s ambition. I didn’t get a lot of information about it but I guess you see a fear first then once you’re over that scare, you can move forward with whatever ambitions you have” Jason explains. Tim’s hair is much longer when it’s wet and Jason likes the way it looks. “It wasn’t an aphrodisiac.”

“Um,” Tim laughs awkwardly, “Okay.”

Jason rolls his eyes, “I know. That explains why I saw bugs.”

“Why bugs?” Tim asks softly.

“When you dig yourself out of your own coffin, you meet some creatures,” Jason says easily, only realizing what he’s said after he’s already said it.

Tim doesn’t respond to that.

He thinks Tim’s hair is wet enough by this point, so he grabs the small shampoo bottle that Tim brought with him and pours some of it directly onto his head. Tim huffs at the coolness of it. Jason chuckles and begins massaging it in, trying to remember the hair care tips he’s randomly seen while scrolling social media. Something about lathering and working out, he thinks.

“So your ambition was to fuck me?” Tim says, glossing over Jason’s fear. Jason can’t gauge how he feels asking that, which worries him slightly.

Jason shakes his head, “No. I think it was to take care of you.”

Tim stiffens. “Take care of me?” he asks, his voice cracking as he questions Jason.

Jason pauses his hands and blinks quickly. He’s not sure why Tim reacted that way. “Yeah,” he says cautiously, “I think the horny shit was just my way of wanting to take care of you. I like having sex and making sure my partner feels good.”

“Oh, okay. I see,” Tim mumbles.

“Sorry,” Jason immediately says, “I know it’s kind of weird—”

Tim shakes his head and Jason hears him sniffle lightly before he brings the back of his hand to his nose, wiping it a bit before splashing it back into the water. He groans and leans back into Jason, who waits patiently, albeit confused.

“This is so stupid,” Tim says, “But I think my ambition, or whatever, is to get better. And to let people take care of me.”

Jason raises an eyebrow and starts lathering again, “Yeah? And what was your fear?”

Tim presses his forehead into his knees and exhales a wet sigh.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Jason offers, feeling bad for asking.

“No it was just—” Tim shrugs, turning his head to the side and pressing his cheek into his knee. “I saw you, in your Robin outfit, all mangled and shit. But it wasn’t the current you, it was the you I used to follow around and photograph.”

Jason drops his hands down to Tim’s shoulders.

“You were so small,” Tim whispers and Jason isn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it or not. He sees a tear escape from Tim’s eye.

“I’m here now,” Jason mutters, just above a whisper, “And I’m okay.”

Tim hums and sways a little bit. The shampoo has foamed up considerably and runs down Tim’s neck and back before it hits the water and dissipates.

“Yeah, you are,” Tim sighs, “And you’re helping me get better.”

“I want to take care of you,” Jason says softly, sincerely, “And not just with sex. When Dick said you looked like you were recovering, it made me happy. It was your work but I like to think I helped.”

“You did,” Tim nods quickly. He leans forward and dips his hands into the water in front of himself and brings a decent amount to his head, starting to rinse the suds. Jason gets the message and follows along, doing exactly what Tim is doing, before he remembers the shower head. He grabs it and washes all of the shampoo out for Tim.

“Well, good,” Jason says when he’s done concentrating on cleaning Tim’s hair, “Cause you don’t do shit for yourself, Birdy.”

Tim grunts, “I go to therapy.”

“While you’re on call with me,” Jason points out, rolling his eyes.

“I’m a busy guy.”

“You are a busy guy,” Jason chuckles, “And I know that. I won’t be offended if you’ve gotta get off of a call to go to therapy, dummy.”

Tim slides his hand against the surface of the water, pushing the surviving bubbles around. Jason can tell something is on his mind but he doesn’t want to pry too much, afraid that he’ll make Tim regress back into his shell. He’s gotten really, really far with him over the months, and the idea of ever going back to how they were before this whole accidental call situation makes him contemplate some things he’d never admit to anyone but himself.

“Do you want me to leave?” Tim asks quietly, sounding like he’s in pain as he says the words.

“What?” 

Tim sighs, “Do you want me to leave? When we get back?”

Jason furrows his brows. Get back where? He thought Tim had meant to leave the bath and now he was more confused. “Leave what?”

Tim snorts, “Your apartment.”

He hadn’t thought about the fact that Tim’s been living at his place without him there but he knows damn well he doesn’t want him to leave. “Fuck no,” Jason quickly says. It’s true, he doesn’t want Tim to leave, and the sincerity is there in his tone. 

“Jeez, okay,” Tim chuckles, sounding relieved, “No need to get upset over it.”

“I don’t want that at all,” Jason says, still somewhat upset at the prospect of Tim leaving, “Stay forever.”

Tim turns his head and squints at Jason with a smirk ghosting his face. He looks like he’s analyzing Jason and Jason doesn’t fucking care, he’ll be an open book for Tim to flip through whenever the fuck he pleases, as long as it’ll keep him around.

“Okay,” Tim finally says, “But we’re getting a better couch. And I want to turn your gun room into my office.”

He keeps bringing up the damn couch, so he must really hate the thing. “You drive a hard bargain,” Jason jokes. He places his lips on the nape of Tim’s neck and nips him gently before saying, “As long as I can fuck you over your desk, you can have the room.”

Tim gasps softly and bites his bottom lips with flared nostrils, his cheeks dusting and his ears turning a little darker. Huh. Jason didn’t know his blush affected his ears, too. Cute.

“Do you want to do that now?” Tim asks shyly.

Jason pulls back. He wants to, as he usually does, but he’s worried about the drug’s effects and the stress of the night, “Tim—”

“You said it yourself,” Tim says quickly and softly, “It wasn’t an aphrodisiac. I haven’t felt any sexual shit until you just did that, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the drug. I had my crying fit in here before you got here and I actually feel pretty okay, now.”

Jason considers the points. He’s not wrong, not really, and Jason’s mask had the filter protecting him so he was fine, and the night had been a rough one so a good fuck would definitely be a highlight to it.

Jason hums and presses his mouth back to the junction between Tim’s shoulder and neck, biting at it harder than he had before. Tim gasps and tilts his head back, exposing his neck more.

“Get out of the bath and go lay on the bed,” Jason whispers, “Let me finish up in here. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” Tim whispers back, lifting himself from the bath that sloshes around due to the sudden change in displacement.

“Good boy.”

Jason looks up at Tim and smirks when he sees Tim looking down at him with his lips pulled tight. Jason knows he likes it and it’s confirmed by the way Tim doesn’t say anything, instead opting to grab a towel and step out of the bath.

Jason quickly washes himself and pulls the plug for the bath, running some fresh water so he can splash it against his face. He decides his hair can take another day of neglect because his dick is dictating what he’s doing at this point, and his body is screaming at him to get into the bed with Tim.

Toweling off quickly and tossing it into the hamper, Jason beelines for the bed. His brain is barely present, with his body taking over and guiding him instinctually to Tim.

Tim’s on his stomach with his eyes closed under the duvet and for a split second, Jason wonders if he’s fallen asleep. But Tim cracks open his eye and stares at Jason as he crawls across the blankets to Tim.

The duvet makes a move to the floor, with Jason tossing it off of Tim, who still doesn’t move.

“Hey,” Jason breathes. His hands land on the mounds of Tim’s ass, kneading the flesh as he waits for Tim to acknowledge him. To give him some sort of green light to continue.

“Jason,” Tim whines softly.

His name is enough of a confirmation.

When Jason glances up at Tim, he sees how flushed Tim’s face is and how his eyes are half-lidded. He looks very different from how he looked the night before and it’s a sight Jason knows he won’t get very often, so he needs to jump on the opportunity now.

“Yeah, Birdy?” Jason asks in a whisper, scared he’s going to ruin the mood if he talks too loud. He digs his thumbs into the muscles that line Tim’s spine and he smoothly slides his hands from Tim’s pelvis all the way up his back, leaning forward and laying down on Tim once his hands reach the top vertebra. He wraps both of his hands lightly around Tim’s throat and nips at his ear, rolling his hips against Tim’s ass to make sure Tim’s aware of his interest.

Tim exhales and his eyes flutter shut. His face darkens more and Jason wants to fucking eat him.

“Can you…” Tim hesitates and he worries his bottom lip for a millisecond, “Can you use me like you said you wanted to in that video?”

Jason’s brain breaks in half at the request.

He’s finally fucking got it, he thinks. He’s finally got Tim to give up control, to just exist in the moment and let Jason take care of him completely.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason breathes eagerly, nodding quickly, “Fuck yes, Birdy.”

Tim whines high in his throat and pants into the bed, sounding more turned on than Jason’s ever heard him sound.

“You’re better than that toy,” Jason starts off by saying. He effortlessly lifts himself from Tim’s body, dragging his nails slowly down Tim’s back once he’s found a good way to lean back on his haunches without crushing Tim, spreading his cheeks after kneading at them again for a moment, “You’re everything I could ever want, and I know you know that because of the way you make sure to drive me fucking crazy.”

Tim quietly gasps when Jason runs a finger along his seam, making sure to avoid his cock that’s poking out and looking extremely hard. Jason will be sure to play with that later. Right now all he can focus on is the wetness gathered between Tim’s legs that he’s only seen in pictures.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says faintly, “I don’t mean to tease, I just—”

Jason shushes him as he continues to run his finger up and down, “You don’t need to lie to me, Birdy. I know you do it on purpose.”

He slips his finger in and both he and Tim exhale at the feeling. Tim takes him so easily.

Tim’s still very relaxed from the bath, and Jason can tell by the way his shoulders are remaining loose even as he has his arms wrapped around the pillow under his head that he’s going to remain relaxed if Jason does this right.

“Jay,” Tim moans into the pillow. 

“Full name, baby,” Jason instructs, sliding his finger out and catching the tip of it on the edge of Tim’s entrance. He’s completely enamored by the way Tim’s body takes him so smoothly, so eagerly.

“Jason,” Tim repeats with the same energy.

No pushback. No argument. Just total compliance. Jason’s winning a battle he’s aware no one else has ever won. He’s not even sure if Tim’s fully conscious of the fact that he’s being so complacent to the whole ordeal.

“That’s right, just like that, Birdy,” Jason praises. He rewards Tim by adding in a second finger, and the additional one slides in just as easily as the first.

Tim only reacts by opening his mouth at the feeling of a second finger spreading him open. He’s quiet but not unresponsive, so Jason knows he’s really fucking lost to the feeling.

“I want to take care of you,” Jason says softly, his fingers sliding in and out of Tim easily as Jason barely picks up his speed from teasing to consistent, “Let me use you like that. I want to make you cum like a little toy I can wind up and play with.”

Tim nods and hides his face in the pillow. Jason thinks it’s adorable and something in him wants to somehow simultaneously ruin him and preserve him.

He curls the tip of his fingers slightly as he buries them inside Tim up to the last knuckles. He rocks his hand a bit and angles it differently, more so for his own comfort than anything else.

When he tries to adjust himself he slightly loses his balance and presses hard and deep into Tim.

Tim lets out a surprised yelp and thrusts his hips back hard into Jason’s hand, nearly scaring Jason to death.

“Jason— Jay, Jason,” Tim chants desperately, “Right there, right there, please, please don’t stop, right there, I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

Jason’s eyes widen and his hand starts pumping without his brain registering what he’s doing. When he looks down at his fingers sliding in and out of Tim, he sees a lot more slickness has appeared and that it’s definitely thicker and creamier, and Tim’s starting to shake, his noises becoming more frequent and higher-pitched with every thrust of Jason’s hand.

“I got you, I got you,” Jason whispers, placing his other hand on the outside of Tim’s hip, guiding him onto his fingers, “Just like this, keep taking it like this and I’ll keep fucking you good.”

A few tears escape Tim’s eyes and slide down his cheeks as he nods frantically. These are the types of tears Jason’s only heard on call before, and seeing them for the first time makes his cock throb so hard he can’t resist any longer.

“Come here, you fucking—”

Jason slides his fingers out of Tim and aligns himself with Tim’s entrance, pushing in without hesitation. The resistance that Tim’s body gives him is so, so much sweeter than the way the toy had resisted him— Tim’s body is warm and velvety, opening up for Jason in a way that feels like Jason was born to fill him. The fleshlight had felt like it was made for Jason, which it technically was, but right now Jason feels like he was made for Tim and that’s getting him to a mental point of no return.

A high-pitched whine escapes Tim when Jason’s cock enters him and he goes pliant when Jason’s fully situated inside of him. He’s panting and crying and shaking under Jason, making noises of approval as he very minutely shifts his hips and bounces on Jason’s dick ever so slightly.

Jason truly, honestly feels like he’s going to die right here, right now. His heart is racing and his mind is zapping every single neuron in his brain that instinctively instructs him to fuck hard and rough into Tim, to just lose himself to the sensation and come out on the other side with whatever’s left of him.

He slides back and slams his hips forward, testing how Tim will respond.

“Jason, please,” Tim whines, sounding desperate, “Please, I want—”

“Toys don’t want,” Jason growls, gripping Tim’s hips and tilting them up for better leverage, “Toys just take.”

Tim mewls high in his throat and Jason slams back into him, satisfied with the way Tim doesn’t have any sort of bratty response.

He builds up a rhythm that’s hard, fast, and feels overwhelmingly perfect because of how Tim’s tightening around him, giving the right type and amount of resistance to send shockwaves of pleasure throughout Jason’s body. He wants to do something more, he wants to be as vocal as he is on their calls, but it’s so much easier when it’s just him with his hand. It’s not as fucking mind numbingly good.

Jason gathers enough brain cells to say something, anything, but Tim suddenly seizes under him and he tightens around Jason so tightly that Jason thinks he’s never going to be able to pull out.

Tim lets out an honest to God wail that Jason’s never heard him emit before and then he’s panting and crying harder, begging Jason to continue what he’s doing, babbling half-coherent words that Jason’s trying desperately to understand.

Jason bends forward and tucks his arms under Tim’s chest, rutting into him as he starts whispering sweet things into his ear to get him to calm down, and it works. Tim keeps moaning and making little noises but he’s not as frantic, not as lost in his emotional state.

“Fuck, Birdy,” Jason groans next to Tim’s ear now that he’s got him calmed a bit, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum in me,” Tim says, sounding like he wants to beg but is too tired to.

The invitation is enough for Jason and with a few more thrusts, he’s doing the exact thing Tim told him to do.

Jason collapses onto Tim and holds onto him tighter, burying his dick as far into him as he can, relishing in the feeling of Tim being filled with his own cum and Jason’s cum.

“I can’t breathe,” Tim grunts after Jason’s been laying on him for a minute, “You’re heavy.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, rolling off of Tim, and hisses as he slips out of his body. He keeps his arm draped across Tim’s back, needing some sort of physicality, some reminder that Tim doesn’t want to kick him immediately.

Tim rolls over and tucks himself against Jason’s chest. His hair is still damp and Jason can smell the oils from his shampoo. It’s a perfect post-orgasm scent, Jason thinks. He feels stupid for thinking it but also, he doesn’t care.

“When do you leave?” Tim asks.

Jason groans, “Tomorrow.”

Tim makes a noise of protest and kicks his feet like a child throwing a tantrum. Jason laughs.

“God, this isn’t fucking fair,” Tim whines, “I just got you.”

Jason rolls his eyes and pretends like he’s not smitten by Tim’s words. “I don’t want to leave either,” Jason says, “But I have to. You know how this shit works.”

“I don’t even really want to be here with everyone,” Tim groans, “I can’t believe I flew to another continent— another hemisphere— for dick.”

“Yeah, he was pretty insistent,” Jason nods.

Tim clicks his tongue and looks at Jason with a pissed-off look. “No, moron,” Tim scoffs, “I meant your dick. Not Dick Grayson.”

“Oh,” Jason says dumbly. That makes more sense. “Well, when you fly back to the western hemisphere, my dick will be there eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

Tim rolls his eyes and smiles before he starts laughing. “Trust me,” Tim says softly, sliding his hand down Jason’s abdomen, “I’ll be eagerly looking forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Jason asks, looking down at Tim’s hand with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Tim hums. His hand stops at the top of Jason’s happy trail and he runs a finger over the hairs. “Yeah,” he sighs, sounding content, filling Jason’s heart with pride knowing that he’s the one who makes Tim feel this comfortable, this safe, this relaxed.

Jason can’t wait to fall asleep with Tim, in his own bed like this, every night.

The flight home was only terrible because Tim wasn’t with him. Otherwise, it was pretty okay.

Tim had insisted on upgrading Jason to first class and Jason had argued against it, he really had, but Tim had threatened to call in a bomb threat to Jason’s plane right before boarding was scheduled to start, so Jason gave in and accepted it begrudgingly. The worst part is he knew Tim would do it because Tim’s smart and knows how to hide, so he wouldn’t get caught doing it. It was ridiculously dramatic but Jason was pretty obsessed with how much Tim cared about him, even if it was a little unconventional. A lot unconventional, actually.

Landing in Gotham made his body unwind from a way he wasn’t aware he’d been holding onto. Gotham was gross, crime-riddled, and his. He loved it.

What he didn’t love was walking into his apartment and finding an uninvited guest lounging across his couch, scrolling through the television guide like he owned the place.

Jason slams his door and drops his duffel bag that’s mostly filled with Tim’s stuff. He didn’t have much to bring back and he wanted Tim to have the least amount of stress possible coming home.

“Get out,” Jason says firmly, uncaring about how rude it is.

“Aw, welcome home, Jace,” Dick says with a large smile on his face, “It’s so good to see you, how was Beijing? By the way, this couch sucks ass.”

Jason rolls his eyes, “I said, get out.”

Dick shrugs and looks back at the TV, “No.”

Jason groans and wishes he could blow up Dick with his mind. That would be ideal.

“Fine,” Jason growls as he rips his boots off, throwing them onto the shoe rack. He notices Tim’s shoes and feels a pang in his chest. “Beijing was fine. Happy? Leave.”

Dick sucks on his teeth and rolls his eyes, “And Switzerland?”

Jason glances at Dick and looks across his living room, noticing Tim’s desk setup with his four monitors and his computer.

“Switzerland?” Jason asks, trying to sound like he doesn’t know what Dick’s talking about.

“Come on, man,” Dick sighs, “Switzerland? Tim? I know you’re why he chose to go there.”

Jason shrugs, avoiding eye contact, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Jeez, how do you even do undercover cases when you’re literally the worst at lying,” Dick says, rolling his eyes and looking back to the television, “Hey, Kingsman is on, maybe you could take some notes.”

Jason stomps past the couch and smacks the back of Dick’s head as he walks by him, to his room, “Shut up, Dickiebird. That movie fucking sucks, anyway.”

“Hey!” Dick shouts in protest. He stands from the couch and follows Jason into his room, which makes Jason’s skin crawl a little.

“I’m taking all my clothes off,” Jason says plainly, knowing that it isn’t fully true and that Dick literally won’t care.

“I don’t care,” Dick says, as if on cue, “I’ve seen you strip plenty.”

“Are you trying to see me naked?” Jason asks with a hiss, hoping that the accusation will be enough to deter Dick.

It doesn’t. Dick just folds his arms and leans against the doorframe with an attitude that simply screams Dick Grayson.

“No,” he replies, unamused, “I think Tim would rip me to shreds if I tried anything, which I’m not.”

Jason turns his back to Dick and removes his shirt and undoes his belt, shoving his pants off of him. He isn’t shy about his body but the giant scar that decorates his chest isn’t something he normally likes to show off. Tim was the only person who never looked at it with any sort of expression, probably because he’s got two of his own large scars that Jason is sure attract unwanted attention.

“Are you leaving soon?” Jason asks as he throws on sweats and a thick white t-shirt, ignoring the comment, “I need to go get groceries and then knock the fuck out for a solid 24 hours.”

“I’ll come with,” Dick says happily.

The guy just wasn’t getting it. “Jesus— No, Dick!” Jason yells as he spins on his heel, “Why are you being such a nuisance?!”

“Because you’re avoiding the real conversation!” Dick yells back.

Great. A yelling match. This always fucking happens between them, why can’t things be simple for fuck’s sake.

“Wow, enlighten me!” Jason says loudly and sarcastically, “You want to talk about how me and Tim are fucking?! Fine! We are! We’re together, too, and I don’t give a shit—”

“I came here to thank you, jackass!” Dick yells. He’s mad, truly mad, and Jason can tell not only by the way he’s shouting at Jason but also by the way he’s standing, with his shoulders hunched forward. He closes his eyes and presses his palm against his forehead before saying, “God, what is up with you two thinking I’m always on the attack?!”

“Because you usually are!” Jason replies defensively, “You get like B where you just fly in, unannounced, and expect me to bow down to you, and you did the same shit to Tim!”

Dick remains quiet and drops his hand from his face, loosening his stance, seeming more like the Dick that Jason grew up with. He looks lost and hurt but not offended by the words.

Jason groans. He doesn’t want to deal with this right now. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “Just tell me why you’re here, Dick. I didn't do anything so I don’t know why you’re thanking me. I don’t want to run in circles around some secret code you’ve got going on in your brain.”

God, talking to Tim is so much easier. Tim is blunt like Jason is and he’s pragmatic like Jason’s not, and it makes it so much easier when Jason doesn’t have to dance around things with him.

“I came to thank you for how you’ve helped Tim,” Dick says, his voice at a normal volume, “I don’t know if you know, but he was having a rough year before I benched him.”

“Aren’t we all,” Jason mumbles, rolling his eyes. He walks past Dick into the main area of his apartment, gathering some of the trash that Tim had left on his kitchen counter. It wasn’t much and Jason didn’t really care, he just needed to do something so he wasn’t forced to look at Dick.

“No, you don’t get it,” Dick presses, “I don’t mean it as a joke. He wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping, I don’t even know what he was doing. He’s had bouts of depression before but not like that.”

Jason finishes with the trash and has nothing else to busy himself with, so he sighs and leans against the countertop, looking at Dick with an unamused expression.

“He told me he had a psychotic episode,” Jason said, figuring he might as well get some details from the other side of things, “Said he came out of it because of an alarm on his phone.”

“He had multiple episodes,” Dick says, sounding concerned, “He was in and out for over a month. I don’t think he remembers them all.”

Well, that’s not good, and it’s even worse that Jason’s finding out it wasn’t a one-off thing. He can’t blame Tim for not remembering, especially not after everything he went through with Jason when Jason was resurrected. Brains do that, they block out memories to protect the host, and Jason’s intimately familiar with that. 

“He hasn’t had an episode in at least 4 months,” Jason says, “So I think he’s getting better.”

“Exactly!” Dick exclaims, and he waves his hands the exact way Jason had imagined back when he was in Beijing, hearing him and not seeing him, “That’s my point! I want to thank you for that! And I don’t know how you convinced him to get therapy but thank you for that, too!”

“I didn’t convince him to do anything,” Jason says. He feels weird being praised for something he didn’t do, especially something so sensitive.

Jason must make a face of some sort when he remembers Tim’s words, about how his ambition was to get better. Dick falls quiet and watches him with confused eyes.

“He did that on his own cause that was his ambition,” Jason says softly, more to himself than to Dick. He puts the tip of his thumb in his mouth and bites at it lightly as he thinks about how hard Tim had been working on himself behind the scenes, never asking for anyone to acknowledge his progress.

Dick looks at him for a moment and sighs, “Look. I know dating someone means you kinda like, make your own language, and build a certain type of communication that only you two get. But please tell him he’s doing a good job and keep him on this path. I don’t want to make you his keeper but…you know how he gets.”

“Yeah,” Jason scoffs, “Trust me, I do.”

“When does he come home?” Dick asks. He waves his hand around in the air, “I mean, here, I don’t mean Gotham in general. All his shit is here already so I know he’s completely moved in.”

Jason furrows his brows. “What?” he asks. Everything here was Jason’s and there was barely any sign that Tim was staying here, besides the shoes by the entrance and his monolith of a computer setup.

“His computer’s here,” Dick says, pointing in the general direction of it with his thumb, “He doesn’t really own anything else, not anymore. The last time Steph went over she said he was sleeping on the floor on a bunch of blankets and acting like it wasn’t a big deal.”

Jason looks at him. What the fuck. Was that how he’d been set up during their calls? Is that why Jason always heard his joints pop and fabric scrape against his headset’s microphone? Was it the fucking floor that was scraping against it?

Wait, no, that didn’t make sense, Tim had sent pictures of himself and he was definitely on a mattress and had string lights hung up in a few of the pictures. There was the nice mirror, from the first picture he had ever sent Jason. Was that him upgrading his space and slowly getting better?

“Oh,” Dick says, embarrassed, “I thought you knew— I thought that’s why you offered your place.”

He doesn’t want to tell Dick about the origins of Jason’s invitation, cause he knows it’ll lead to the story of the sweater and of their calls. Fuck no, he does not want Dick privy to that. “No,” Jason replies, his mind still piecing together ways Tim has slowly but surely been working on his situation on his own.

“Well, this is a much better setup than what he had,” Dick says with a shrug. He places his hands on his hips and looks around, admiring the place, “It’s kinda nice here, actually. And really clean. I’m a bit surprised.”

“Ugh,” Jason groans, rolling his eyes as he remembers Tim saying something similar. It sounded endearing coming from Tim. It just sounds condescending coming from Dick.

“Just keep taking care of him, please,” Dick begs, “He’s a tough one and I’m sure he’ll get back on his feet but I want him to know he’s loved.”

“He does,” Jason says without thinking. He glances at Dick and sees Dick looking back at him with a look of slight shock. “Oh, come on,” Jason groans, throwing his hands up in the air, “Don’t look like that! I tell him I love him and I show him, too, okay?! I’ll keep up the good work and let you know if any shit goes south. Does that sound good? Can you please fucking leave now?!”

“Okay, okay,” Dick says, putting his hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll go! But seriously. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Your best ‘thank you’ comes in the form of you leaving,” Jason says as he walks over to his front door and opens it, motioning an exit to Dick.

Dick chuckles and makes his way out of Jason’s apartment, standing in the doorway for a second before deciding that whatever he was about to do or say wasn’t worth the pushback Jason was ready to give.

“Let me know when he’s come home,” Dick says over his shoulder, walking to the elevator that leads to the ground floor, “I won’t come over. I just want to know.”

“Whatever,” Jason says. That’s as close to an ‘okay’ that Dick is going to get out of him. He’ll see how Tim feels about it before he says anything to Dick.

He closes the door and thunks his forehead against it, exhaling an aggravated sigh.

He couldn’t wait for Tim to be home.

The days Jason has to wait for Tim to get home are somehow agonizingly slow and ridiculously fast. He loses track of time multiple times and oversleeps nearly every day, his body completely out of sync with any sort of circadian rhythm due to the insane timezone hopping he’s done. It usually takes him a day or so to adjust but for some goddamn reason this time around, his body is deciding to be stubborn about it.

He texts Tim when he’s awake and Tim texts back when he’s not busy pretending to care about the vacation that he and the board are taking. He sends a cute selfie of him smiling with a peace sign on a ski lift. Maybe he is actually enjoying himself.

The food pictures he sends are ridiculous. He’s eating things Jason would normally never approve of, like Belgian waffles stacked high with fruit and slathered in enough syrup to make Jason gag, but he’s eating frequently and well, which is all Jason asks for. Even if Jason can’t understand why he intakes so much sugar, he’s not going to dissuade Tim from doing the thing Jason asked him to do. He’s eating, he’s sleeping, he’s having a good time. That’s what Jason wanted.

They don’t call because their schedules just don’t line up and Jason’s nothing short of relieved as fuck once Tim’s on the plane home. He rode first class, of course.

And now he’s on his way to Jason’s apartment— to their apartment, technically. Jason’s not letting Tim go back to sleeping alone on the floor of his studio, that would be fucking stupid. This is their place now and Jason’s serious about it.

Jason paces around the apartment, nervous about the fact that Tim’s going to be arriving any second. He spent the last two days clearing out his other room so Tim could turn it into an office and he rearranged some of his furniture because he needed something to do. He didn’t move Tim’s computer setup because honestly? If Jason broke any part of it he’d probably kill himself, if Tim didn’t get to him first. Jason feels like Tim would just know if something happened to it.

There’s a small knock at the door and Jason’s swinging it open before he even knows he’s across the room, and Tim’s standing there, looking tired and anxious and hopeful and like Tim.

“Hi,” Jason says with a large grin on his face, “Welcome home.”

Tim smiles up at him. “Yeah,” he sighs, “Home.”