Tim kicked the grimy door with its splintering wood shut as he entered the small safe-house Jason was currently occupying. He yanked his key out of the lock and moved to put the bag of take-out on the kitchen island. The apartment was dark except for the harsh city lights that flooded in through the curtains, illuminating Jason's form hunched over on the couch.
"Hey, I brought Chinese. Extra eggrolls." Tim called into the living room.
"Aren't you supposed to be at the manor tonight? Dinner with the family or something like that." Jason's voice came from the other room, still rough from smoke inhalation from a patrol last week. Tim would have to remember to make him some tea. He moved to find the kettle, spared a long glare at the collection of beer bottles and cigarette butts in the sink, and thought maybe it was time for another talk with Jason about things that were bad for his health.
"Yeah, I skipped. Told them I had a lot of course work to catch up on and promised to meet with them next time."
Jason sat up straighter. "Maybe you should go. I'm not feeling great tonight as it is...I'll probably hit the hay early."
At the mention of illness, Tim abandoned the food he was unpacking and moved to check Jason out. He managed to plant a hand on Jason's face before the older man stepped away. "What are you talking about, Jason? You feel fine."
"Look—I just think it'd been good for you to spend time with the family. I know Dick misses you."
"Dick sees me all the time. I came here to see you." Tim said slowly. Why was Jason talking like this? Usually he was all too eager to have Tim at his apartment, dragging him into the bedroom after a risky night of patrol that brought the two vigilantes together and not letting him go until morning. And family? It wasn't like Jason had gone out of his way to make amends of Bruce or Dick. As far as Tim knew, the only person Jason didn't ignore was Alfred, but the butler's visits were few and seldom.
"Go home, Tim." Jason turned and started to pack up the photos scattered across the coffee table, shuffling them into a stack and acting for all the world like there was nothing more to the matter.
"Hey—" Tim yanked on Jason's arm until the man turned back to face him, though Jason's gaze was directed somewhere near his shoulder. Tim cupped a hand against Jason's face, thumb stroking down his cheek, hoping to direct his gaze back towards his face, but his hand was once again dislodged before he could do anything more.
"This has to stop, Tim." Jason squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed at his forehead, like this conversation was giving him a headache.
"What has to stop? Me bringing you dinner?" He knew he was playing it dumb, but Jason was a complex guy and he didn't want to reading into anything wrong.
"No, not dinner. This—Us—This!" He snapped, glaring around the apartment. "I don't do this domestic, home-making shit. And I don't do relationships."
Tim huffed out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "If you don't do relationships then, tell me, what have we been doing for the past month or so?"
"I thought we were fucking. I didn't think you'd become so attached to me like a damn lost puppy." Jason growled, and if Tim hadn't been trained by the Batman he might have just accepted that, but he was and he knew that Jason was lying.
"I know that's not the reason. You don't just bring a fuck-buddy back to your safe house, you're too paranoid for that. I know you care for me more than you say you do, so I'm staying until you tell me the truth. Then we'll work it out like we always do."
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared expectantly at the ex-robin.
"Tough luck, replacement. That's the reason I'm giving you, so get your ass out of my apartment. Now."
Tim continued to glare at him. "I'm not leaving, Jason."
He wasn't expected the shove that sent him stumbling back into the edge of the couch.
"I said get out." When he still didn't move, Jason barged forward and shoved him further back towards the door, seeming to want to expel Tim from his life by sheer force if necessary. Well, Tim wasn't still on this earth because he gave up the moment he was told.
"Fly on home, little bird!" Jason spat. "Go be a good little replacement!"
Tim tried to step out of the way of Jason's next attack, but he was caught and flung forward hard enough for him to trip and fall.
Tim was slow to rise to his feet. "Why are you doing this, Jason? What did I do wrong? You said you loved me..."
Jason barked a laughed and Tim tried not to flinch, because that wasn't the quite rumble he heard late at night while wrapped in Jason's sheets, that was the mad bark of laughter the Red Hood used when he was shooting up a warehouse full of thugs.
"You think I loved you?" Jason sneered. "I think pitied is a better word. What can I say? I felt bad for the lost, little bird who didn't have anyone that cared about him. I thought no harm would come out of it, but I was wrong. You latched on to me and now I'm paying for it."
He doesn't love me, Tim thought, but it didn't make any sense. They'd been fine last week after that close call with Bane. It was nothing some stitches couldn't patch up and Jason had looked a bit shaken for a moment, but he'd been fine...and then it made sense.
"This is because of the other night isn't it. With Bane. You're worried about getting me killed?"
Jason yanked the knife out of his pocket and marched up to Tim, until he was breathing harshly in his face. He fisted his hand into Tim's shirt and pressed the knife hard into the skin at Tim's collarbone. "You the one that should be worried. I'm giving you one last chance to leave or I'm killing you myself."
"Is that your plan? Force me out of your life before you love me too much, so that it doesn't hurt as much when I die on patrol." he asked.
"Am I supposed to be scared now, Jason?" Tim asked. He gripped Jason's hand holding the knife and placed the point against his chest, over his heart. "If you really don't love me as you say you don't, then finish the job. I'd rather be dead than live without you."
Tim stared patiently into his eyes, watching the anger fade only be replaced with an unsuppressed aching need. The knife was dropped to the floor and Tim was crushed against Jason's chest in a hug that liberated him from all the air his lungs.
"To death do us part and all that crap." Jason sighed and rested his cheek against the top of his head.