Work Text:
Tim sits on the rooftop, overlooking the jungle of cement and brick and despair that is Gotham City, knees drawn up to his chest, head cradled on them like a pitiful shelf, and he wonders what the point of it all might be.
He's forgotten, maybe. Or he never knew. It's hard to tell. Mostly he feels like his brain is a little bit broken, has been cracked too many times, the glue holding it together is failing. The pieces are set to fall apart in a way that can never be put back right.
It's a strange sort of emptiness. Knowing you aren't a real, whole person anymore.
The worst of it is that he doesn't want to feel that way. Tim doesn't want to be broken. Or empty. Or irrevocably ruined by the sum of his life choices.
But wanting has never helped Tim any. It's probably half the reason why he's sitting here like this in the first place.
He wanted to help. To have a purpose. To find a family.
Instead here he is. On this rooftop. In a city full of strangers. His family have given up on him in every way that matters. They don't check in. They don't worry. They don't need him.
He patrols because he doesn't know what else to do. He watches life happen around him, and only gets to be a part of it when it's violent, when it leaves him bruised and bloody. When he can sink back into the shadows and pretend he was never a part of it at all.
And he can hear him, the near silent footfalls of a man too large to be so quiet. Too brash to be so sly. A man that haunts Tim's dreams - at their extremes. The most terrifying, where the Red Hood leans in and closes his hands around Tim's throat, crushes it into dust as Tim suffocates, wakes him up as he's clawing at phantom hands.
The most erotic, where Jason's hood is tossed aside, his face - perfect sharp cheekbones, the light dusting of feckless across his nose, his eyes glowing green with lust - leans in softly to press his nose against Tim's cheek, his hands on Tim's hips, holding him down, grinding into him, promising so much, and delivering none of it. Tim always managing to wake frustratingly hard and full of despair, knowing how much likelier Jason would be to kill him. Knowing how one dream is almost a memory, the other nothing but fantasy.
'I think you're perched on the wrong rooftop, little birdie,' Jason says, voice dripping with sneer.
Tim doesn't bother to answer. It's easier not to.
'Ignoring me now?' Jason asks, stepping close enough that Tim can smell the cigarettes. The gunpowder. The sweat.
A year ago he would've stuttered out some comeback, probably made an idiot out of himself.
He barely remembers that version of himself anymore.
He can hear the huffed breath through Hood's modulator. Tim can feel the anger rolling off Jason, he hates to be ignored.
Tim can't lie - that's a real bonus. He gives himself a somewhat apathetic little mental fist pump.
'You're not wanted here, Replacement.' Jason spits the words out, closing in, boots close enough to be in Tim's eyeline now.
'What a shock,' Tim replies, barely above a whisper. Mostly because he doesn't have the energy for anything more.
'Come again?' Jason says, leaning down to loom over Tim.
It doesn’t get the intended response, if the way Red Hood growls at Tim's quiet chuckle is anything to go by.
'Are you seriously fucking with me right now, kid,' Jason leans closer, hands balling into fists, 'I could snap your neck like a twig.'
Which is quite an image, if Tim is honest. Enough that he closes his eyes to it, just for a moment. Enough that he finally lifts his head off his knees, turns his head to look up at Hood for real.
Enough for Tim to say, quietly, 'I know.'
'Oh, I bet you do, Replacement . Bet you have all kinds of nightmares about me, don't you.'
Tim doesn't mean to shiver, but he also doesn’t care enough to hold it back. To hide it away.
Jason squats down on those delicious thighs, gets right up in Tims face, fists still clenched, his words leaving the hood like a hiss, 'I could fucking end you, babybird.'
And Tim can't help it, he reaches up to it, basks in it, like Jason is the sun. Let's his gaze sharpen in the eery white lenses of the hood, and whispers, 'do it.'
Jason recoils like he's been slapped.
'The fuck?' He whips his head back to stare at Tim, 'This is not some joke, kid, my hands could wrap around your throat like a vice.'
Tim nods carefully. Lifts his head enough to bare his throat.
'Jesus Christ, Kid. What kind of game are you playing?'
'Isn't this what you want?' Tim asks softly, 'Isn't this all I'm good for?'
Jason stumbles back a step at that. Feet awkward as he tries not to land on his ass.
'You could make my dreams come true, Hood.' Tim puts his weight on his feet, glides his body up into a crouch 'You can finish what you started.'
'You're sick, you know that?'
'I know,' Tim agrees, nodding his head, 'Nobody seems to care though. Nobody noticed.'
Tim's been on a pretty steady stream of antibiotics, probiotics, supplements that probably don't do shit ever since he lost his spleen. But he's never missed a day of work. So who would know?
Who would care anyway?
'You can make it quick, I won't scream. Probably won't even find me for days…' Tim looks off the roof, over the city. Wonders how long it would be before the other bats noticed he was missing.
Wonders what that would even look like.
Jason doesn't seem to have grasped his half of the situation though. He's properly given up his looming to sit back on the roof now, reaching up with clumsy fingers to flick some switches, pull the hood up and over his head.
He's wearing a domino underneath, but Tim can see enough of him now, of his beautiful face, of the curling hair, the flushed cheeks, that he's reminded of his other dreams too. The ones that don't end with Tim dead.
'Changed your mind?' Tim pushes himself up to standing and looks down at Jason, shakes his head. 'Pity.'
Jadon looks pained, his shoulders hunched and his teeth clenched, 'Tim-'
(Is not fair for him to look at Tim like that. Like he cares. Like he's fucking worried .
It's not fair that the only person who never promised to love him, is the only one who's paying attention)
'Don't,' Tim says, letting his bo staff flow into his hands like water, 'Don't pretend like you give a shit.'
'I don't ,' Jason scoffs, looking away for a second and then back at Tim, 'I just… you surprised me.'
Tim's not stupid. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want Jason to kill him, not really. But a part of him wouldn't mind not being here anymore, wherever here is.
Maybe what he really wants is to not have to worry about it anymore. To not have fear gnawing at him, constantly, incessantly.
Desperately .
But Jason isn't going to give that to him. Not tonight.
Jason is looking at him with pity now. With guilt . No fury left. Which only makes Tim's blood boil with it.
It wasn't just Jason that did this to him, it was everyone . Everyone took their piece.
He's distracted by that enough that Jason is up and by his side before he's taken notice.
'Hey-'Jason gets out before Tim is pushing him away.
'Don't.' Tim pulls away from Jason with a jerk and Jason's breath stutters.
Jason holds his hands up placating, but doesn't back away. 'You're getting awful close to the edge there, kid, that's all.'
'Fuck off,' Tim bites out. Can't believe Jason would have the nerve - after he literally just threatened to snap Tim's neck. And not for the first time. Probably not the last.
'Do me a favour and come have this conversation with me over here.' Jason points to the ground as he takes a step back, away from the ledge.
'Do you a favour , oh my god,' Tim can't help but laugh, low and mean, 'why would I ever?'
'Aw come on now, babybird, I know you. I can't stop you from it, usually.'
Tim must let his surprise at that show - surprise that Jason notices, that he’d even mention it, the ways Tim helps him - Patrols his territory when he's off world. Hides Hood's shadier dealings from the comms when he can. Deletes some of the footage when he can't.
Because Jason smiles.
'Yeah, I see you, Tim. Don't think I don't.'
Tim has to take a step toward him. The way he says Tim's name… like it means something.
Warm and smoky and… soft .
'I don't care,' Tim says, but it's hesitant at best.
'Sure, I know,' Jason nods his head, 'but humour me - for old times sake.'
Tim snorts a disbelieving laugh at that. Like their old times aren't Jason slitting Tim's throat in a pit induced rage. Aren't Tim stalking Jason like the creepy freaky twelve year old he was. Aren't full of pain and hurt and death.
Jason's and Tim's.
'You don't have to trust me, or forgive me, or even listen to me - whatever - you shouldn’t ,' Jason looks away again to take a breath before looking back at Tim, 'But maybe let me buy you a burger or something, please? You look like a stiff fucking breeze could blow you over.'
'Five minutes ago you were threatening to snap my neck like a twig.'
'Yeah well, I never said I wasn't an asshole.'
Tim bites at his lip while he processes the offer. He's not even sure he should take it seriously.
But Red Hood, snappy and brutish and mean as he is, hasn't laid a finger on him in nearly a year.
And Tim's latter so used to absolute fucking silence. Yeah maybe Tim could use a burger. And someone to sit with. Talk to even. Someone who is looking at him, looking at Tim, and can see that he's not okay.
'One burger,' Tim says, and has to bite back his smile at Jason's replying shit eating grin.
'One burger, it's all I ask,' Jason rocks back on his heels cheerfully.
'And fries,' Tim adds. Because he loves fries, and he especially loves fries bought for him by someone else.
'Absolutely, and fries, ' Jason's grin is growing.
'Chocolate thickshake,' Tim blurts without even thinking. But it's true. If you're going to have a burger and fries, you have to have a thickshake.
'You drive a hard bargain, babybird, but I accept your terms.'
Tim doesn't know what to say after that. So far this conversation has taken a pretty crazy turn.
'Now, come on,' Jason says as he steps forward and grabs Tim gently by the upper arm-
(Tim doesn't remember a single time Jason has ever touched him gently.
It terrifies him how much he likes it.)
-pulls Tim into his side as he lifts a grappling gun with his other hand, 'Those fries are calling your name, Timmers.'
Tim shouldn't laugh, but he can't help it. He shouldn't even be doing this, but he can't not. He's helpless now.
Jason is so warm, so real. So whole .
Tim needs it. He can let himself have it.
He wants to.
God it feels good to want.
He wants Jason .
And if nothing else matters then maybe that's all that matters. That he can have this, find these moments and hold onto them.
It's enough for now. To hold onto Jason as they swing down to street level. To wrap his arms around Jason's back as they ride through the city.
To not be alone.
That's all Tim ever really wanted.
And when Jason takes a hand off the bike to lay over Tim's hands, to pat them gently with care … Tim can feel it spread through his chest, slow and deep and real.
Hope.
Maybe that's the point.
Maybe that's enough.
For now.