Author's Note: This story was written by Owl. \(=_=\)
Disclaimer: I do not own DC comics or any of its characters.
Timothy Drake wakes up with a mostly useless ice pack on his forehead and a personal reminder to never throw a surprise party for a certain someone who roundhouse kicked him not too long ago.
"Oh, you're finally up, kid."
The teasing voice of Jason Todd isn't exactly pleasant first thing in the late evening to say the least. Tim ignores Alfred's lectures about proper manners and answers the older vigilante with a groan of annoyance.
"Did daddybats not train you on how to sneak around well enough? I swear my elderly neighbors would've heard you crashing in through the window if I had any," Jason says staring at Tim from his spot at the end of the worn down couch.
"Jason, just shut up for a second will you?" The insistent ringing in Tim's head definitely isn't improving with the infuriatingly smooth and deep drawl of his companion.
"Hmm, I'd rather not, sorry babybird." Jason leans towards Tim's end of the couch. "So, about that whole sneaking into my base in the middle of the night thing?"
"What about it," comes the non-committal response. Tim realises that he's wearing a too-large shirt and sweatpants instead of his Red Robin gear. And blushes when he thinks about the only way that clothing change could've happened.
"Do you just sneak into hot anti-heros' safe houses as a hobby or what? And isn't it way past your bedtime, kid?" Tim uses his Batglare (TM). It feels good to direct it at something that isn't himself practicing in the mirror (and no one needs to know about that either).
"Whoa, whoa, Timmy. Can't take a joke? Jeez, you're going to turn into that demon squirt Damien soon. Does Bruce just slack off on you kids these days or something?"
"Is there anything wrong with getting a breath of fresh air? I'm seventeen by the way, if you're worrying about my bedtime." Tim tries lifting his head up. Winces. Or not.
"Getting a breath of fresh air means raiding the safe house of your favorite Batfamily member at 11 pm?" Jason raises an eyebrow skeptically. "And I really need to improve this place's shitty security..."
He scoots closer to where Tim is resting his head. "Hey, Tim, is there something I should know? I mean, I know I don't check in on a daily basis at the Batcave anymore, but if Bats is acting all overboard -"
"You don't have to worry about me!" Tim jerks up from his awkward resting position on the couch, forgetting about the pain in his head.
"I'm not a kid, ok? I know how to deal with Bruce now, better than you even, Jay. I was just tired." Jason opens his mouth to interject. "And worried..."
Tim draws his knees up to his now flaming face, annoyed at himself for admitting his reason for busting into this safe house of all things (and even enlisting Oracle to help him). He mentally blames the bruise on his head, given to him by the idiot who apparently cares too much.
"Timmy, what's up? You're not usually this... affectionate - it's freaking me out a bit. Did I kick you too hard?" Tim looks up to find Jason's face uncomfortably close to his own - close enough to feel that comforting breath on his lips, breath that he dreams of being mingled with his own on more embarrassing occasions than he'd like to recount right now, thank you very much.
Tim decides that he can just continue blaming any bad decisions made tonight on his now formed bruise - or specifically, the annoyingly attractive asshole who made it.
"I was fucking worried about you, ok? You haven't been to the cave in weeks and with this crazy lifestyle of yours, who knows when we'll have to dig you up again?" Tim covers his face with his hands at that, wondering if Jason will finally be done with hearing another person telling him how to live. Instead, warm and calloused hands gently remove his own from his frowning face and raise his chin.
"Babybird, I know that incident wasn't fun for anyone, but you can't just go angsting over it alone, ok? I'm not going to leave you again." Jason peers into his eyes with fond exasperation, searching for any sign of discomfort before leaning in to press his chapped lips against Tim's.
Tim's azure eyes stretch wide and he feels a red hot blush rising from his neck. Resigning to the feeling of what he's wanted for long enough, Tim closes his eyes and wraps his lithe arms around Jason's neck, pulling on his midnight hair. He lets himself relax for the first time after discovering how well he clicked with the resurrected man, leaning back into the couch once more.
Jason pulls away only slightly to murmur against his lips. "I don't think you understand how fucking adorable you look with that blush babybird."
At this, Tim turns impossibly redder and buries his face into the crook of Jason's neck, trying to imprint the feeling of being held into his mind. A feeling that he hopes won't just be a one time thing.
Feeling himself being guided back to a lip-locking position, Tim tilts his head towards Jason, addicted to this sweet burn. Jason's hands have moved down to stroke his sides through the thin t-shirt and the touch sends a tingly shiver running through Tim's body and a breathy gasp leaving his mouth. Jason breaks off from the kiss once more as he positions himself on the couch to gain easier access. "You know you won't be able to get rid of me after this, right? I'm not going anywhere without you, Tim."
With the moon shining into his intense sapphire eyes, Jason looks so comforting and genuine that the only thing holding back Tim's tears is the way their lips crash together and Jason's solid weight against his chest. The butterflies come back and Jason's tongue really isn't helping his heart, but Tim's far too gone to care by this point.
Bruce will probably kill him, but Tim can worry about creepy omnipresent bats later.
