A few days went by, and Tim heard nothing from Terry. He wasn't surprised. He was able to sleep a bit easier, though he didn't let himself linger on the reason why. Dick had called him once, to let him know they hadn't found anymore leads and that he should just not worry about what they found in the warehouse. As if Tim possibly could. But he did his best to concentrate on his work, and try to ignore his problems, like he had for so many years already.
It was easy enough to do, until his office phone rang one afternoon while he was working on a report. He lifted up the receiver and a voice started speaking before he could greet them. Terry's voice.
"Gotham Arms hotel, room 2569" Terry said curtly. His voice sounded hoarse. "I need to talk to you. I'll be here for another half hour, if you're not here by then, I'm gone."
The line went dead before Tim count say anything, and he stared at his phone in confusion and disbelief.
Tim debated whether or not to go, or how to even explain why he was leaving work. He still had a few hours before he could leave. He drummed his fingers on his desk for a few minutes, staring at the phone. His brain seemed to switch to autopilot. He fired off an email to his supervisor, lying about feeling fluish and promising to get the report to him the next day, and took off. One part of his brain screamed that this was wrong, the rest that it was right.
He made it to the room Terry had specified in twenty five minutes. He knocked on the door, and was met by silence. He was about to leave when the door opened a crack and caught on the chain lock. He saw a sliver of Terry's face look out, narrow his eyes, then close the door and unlock the chain, opening it again. Terry was shirtless, holding a towel to his nose.
"In," Terry commanded gruffly, slamming and locking the door as soon as Tim was in the room.
"You... said you needed to talk to me?" Tim asked.
"Yeah," Terry said, distracted by looking at the towel he'd been holding to his nose. It was caked with blood. "How long do you think a nose can bleed without needing to get medical - oh. It stopped."
Tim blinked. "I'm pretty sure you could have asked Bruce that," he said.
Terry ignored him as he walked into the room's bathroom and washed the blood off his face.
"You want to tell me what happened?" Tim shouted over the sound of running water.
"I got punched in the face," Terry said as he shut off the faucet. "Comes with the job."
"And why did you call me?" Terry ignored him again, walking back into the main room and nodding towards the bed.
"Sit," he commanded. Tim raised an eyebrow, but did so anyways. Terry stood in front of him, slouching slightly, head tilted to the side, examining Tim.
"You know, you keep asking me to give you answers, but you're being a bit of a hypocrite now," Tim said, but Terry suddenly leaned over and put a finger to Tim's lips.
Without a word, the teen gruffly grabbed him by the hair and locked lips with Tim. He pulled Tim's head back, forcing him to lay down on the bed, crawling on top of him. This was wrong, Tim thought. This wasn't what he'd expected. He pushed Terry's head away from him, knitting his eyebrows as he looked at the boy.
"What the hell," Tim asked, more confused than angry. "What are you doing?"
Terry stared down at him, his eyes strangely blank. "You said this is what helped you. Fine. If this is what helps, fine."
He leaned back down and nipped Tim's neck. Tim suddenly sat up, shoving Terry away again.
"Terry," he said, holding the boy at arm's length. "This isn't right."
"And you making out with me in a high school locker room somehow IS?"
"No, it wasn't," Tim admitted. "But this... this feels worse. Do you actually want to do this?"
Terry sat back on Tim's knees, dejected. "I dunno," he sighed. "I want to help you. I really do. I just... don't know what the hell you want."
Tim stroked Terry's cheek, looking into the boy's eyes. They were so light blue, like looking into ice. And too serious for someone who was only 17. "I want this, or... something like this. But only if you want it, too."
Terry watched Tim for a while, whatever he was searching for on his face, Tim didn't know.
"Yeah," Terry said quietly after some thought. "I want this."
He leaned forward, less forceful this time, and kissed Tim. He still felt tense, somewhat angry. Maybe that was just his default state, Tim decided. It had been so long since he'd been a teenager, been with a teenager. Maybe that's how young people just were.
Terry bit Tim's lower lip, then his mouth started to wander, moving down Tim's neck. Tim sat still, and Terry noticed. He glanced up at the older man's face, and between kissing and gently biting the nape of his neck, said, "Are you gonna shove me again, or what?"
"Terry," Tim said slowly, enough to make Terry stop. "What are you doing?"
Terry groaned, leaning his forehead against Tim's shoulder. "You said you want to be needed," he said. "Let me need you."
"Because you actually need me, or you feel sorry for me?" Tim said, but his breath caught in his throat as Terry breathed into his ear.
"Both," Terry whispered. He slipped a hand down to rest on the side of Tim's torso, gently pushing him down on the bed again.
"I feel sorry for you," he continued, lifting Tim's shirt up. His hands were calloused and rough against Tim's chest. "But right now... I need this. You."
Terry lifted Tim's shirt over his head, leaning down and licking one of Tim's collarbones. Tim gasped, sitting halfway up and grabbing the boy's head, lifting it up and kissing Terry. Terry's kiss was startled at first, but quickly gave way to a certain tenderness, full of yearning. Tim still doubted the boy's motivation, but the kiss was starting to convince him otherwise. He wrapped his arms around Terry's waist and pulled him close, so close Terry could feel Tim's heart pounding in his chest.
Tim broke off the kiss, his mouth trailing a line down Terry's chest. He stopped right at Terry's hips, at that point between the groin and hips that had made Terry moan the other night. His lips hovered over the spot, then kissed it, and Terry fell forward slightly, leaning over Tim. Tim glanced up - the boy's cheeks were red, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. Tim caressed Terry's hips, and the boy made a choked sound.
Tim's hands groped around, shaking, catching on the hem of Terry's jeans. He blindly felt around until he managed to find the button and fly, pulled them open with a swift motion. Terry's hands suddenly grabbed Tim's wrists, pulling them away and pinning them on the bed. He repositioned himself, kissing Tim sloppily, his mouth exploring every inch of Tim's throat and chin. He wedged a knee between Tim's legs, and Tim groaned.
Terry made a noise that wasn't quite a pant, and Tim opened his eyes to see the boy smirking.
"Uh," he said, laughing between gasps for air, "I think I said a while back I'm not gay. I uh, I kinda don't know what I'm doing."
"That's okay," Tim said, "that makes two of us."
Terry's smirk broke into a full smile and he laughed. Tim couldn't help but join in - it was pretty funny.
"Please tell me the education system got over the whole abstinence thing," Tim said.
"Huh?" Terry asked, giving Tim a funny look. Then his eyes went wide and his ears turned red.
"Oh! Ooooh. Yeah, no, I... just a sec..." he sat up and leaned over the side of the bed, pulling up a backpack and fishing around in it. "Yeah, no, I always... Dana would kill me if..." He stopped talking and his face fell at the mention of Dana.
Tim rubbed one hand along Terry's back with one hand, slipped a condom out of his hand with the other. "I understand," was all he said.
Terry glanced at Tim, the guilt and shame clear on his face. "I'm crazy about her, you know," Terry said quietly. "I can see myself having a future with her, if we ever stop fighting."
"I know," Tim said, sitting up and leaning against Terry. "I love Stephanie. What we're doing doesn't change that."
Terry frowned. "This is so frickin' confusing," he muttered.
"I know," Tim repeated, running his fingers through Terry's hair until the boy looked at him again.
Tim pulled Terry towards him, gently kissing him, caught at an angle with Terry's shoulder against his chest. No, he didn't really have any idea what he was doing. But right now, he didn't care. His heart was trying to beat out of his ribcage, but not out of fear. He slid a hand down Terry's chest, carefully slipping down the front of Terry's jeans. Terry inhaled sharply, but this time he didn't pull away.
Tim moved Terry's boxers out of the way, pulling the boy's cock free. Terry grabbed the back of Tim's neck, forcing his tongue into his mouth and moaning. Tim's thumb ran across the head, then slowly down the length of the shaft. Terry pulled him closer, breathing heavily, his other hand shakily moving down Tim's stomach and fumbling with his fly. Tim's heart skipped a beat, but he focused on Terry, instead of himself. As Terry had said... he needed Tim right now.
"Fuck," Terry muttered, and Tim could feel the smirk against his mouth without having to see it. "What the hell are these pants made out of, titanium?"
"Don't worry about it," Tim replied, his hand starting to move up and down.
Terry's lip finally broke away from his own, the boy unable to breathe without panting. Tim slowly guided the boy down to the bed, one arm wedged beneath him, the other continuing to focus on stroking him.
Tim slowly moved back, tracing the young man's muscular chest down to his hips. Whatever part of his brain was still capable of thinking in full sentences reminded him of Terry's reaction twice before, and he licked his groin, tongue slowly moving up towards his abdomen. Terry cried out, a short outburst that suddenly cut off. His back arched underneath Tim, and his hands scrambling to claw at Tim's shoulders.
Tim wormed his arm out from underneath the boy's back, awkwardly moving Terry's pants down, then grasping his thigh and moving up towards his buttocks. The pace at which he was stroking Terry's cock quickened, his mouth suckling the flesh just above Terry's groin. Terry's hands suddenly grasped him, one digging into his shoulder, the other tangled in Tim's hair. They froze, clawing at him, his whole body rigid.
Tim's head moved up, tongue exploring Terry's abs and then pectorals. One hand clenched Terry's buttocks, the other his penis, and the young man's breath caught in his throat as he released. His body relaxed, his breathing starting again. Tim let go of his penis, hands resting on Terry's hips, once more pressing that soft bit of flesh. Suddenly Terry punched him in the arm, hard.
"Dreg," Terry gasped, laughing.
"Kids these days," Tim said, trying to catch his own breath as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at Terry's face. "Is 'dreg' good or bad?"
Terry bolted up with more stamina than Tim would have thought he'd have after getting off. He grabbed Tim in a headlock, wrapping himself around him. He must have taken some sort of wrestling training, Tim thought.
"It means," Terry said with a mean smirk, "that you're an asshole."
"You're the one who invited me here," Tim said, trying to remember how to get out of a wrestling hold and failing. It had been years since he'd had to know something like that.
"Yeah, well," Terry ruffled Tim's hair in an almost-noogie. "I play fair at least."
"I seem to remember that you actually fight pretty dirty," Tim shot back. Terry let out a barking laugh and pushed Tim's head down into the mattress, letting go of him and bounding off the bed.
Tim lay there, watching as the boy pulled his pants back up. Terry had so much energy, and Tim didn't understand it. He felt exhausted, but in a good way. Like he'd gotten something out of his system. But Terry had seemed tired when Tim had arrived, and now looked like he'd gotten an adrenaline shot. Terry flopped back down on the edge of the bed, propping himself on his elbows. He'd been smiling, but the smile fell a bit.
"This can't go on forever," he said quietly.
"I know," Tim groaned, turning over onto his back and staring at the ceiling. "I don't intend for it to go on forever. Just right now... I need this. Just until I can start feeling like a person again."
Terry gripped Tim's bicep, more like a close friend than a lover. "Okay," he said.
Tim was sure Terry would ask how long that would take, but he didn't. Instead, he rolled over, leaning over Tim.
"Sorry if I freaked you out when you showed up," Terry said casually, but his eyes were serious again. "I think... I needed this, too."
He leaned down, as if to kiss Tim, but stopped. Tim knew why, too. He wasn't exactly smiling.
"What happened to you before I showed up?" He asked. "What made you call me?"
Terry frowned. "Just Batman stuff. I got punched in the face. I dunno why I called you. It just seemed like the right thing to do."
Tim frowned, but before he could say anything, Terry swiftly kissed him, one hand pressing against his chest. Tim had been right - the boy didn't fight fair. He knew just what to do to derail Tim's thoughts. Terry held the kiss, then followed it by a few shorter ones, then sat up and got off the bed. He checked the watch on his wrist.
"Slag it," he said. "No time to make it back to class before school's out. Uh, sorry if I made you skip outta work."
"It's fine," Tim stood up and grabbed Terry by the waist, pushing him back to the wall and sticking his tongue in his mouth. Terry moaned slightly, then lightly punched Tim in the arm.
"Knock it off," he said, "you skipped out on work, but if I skip out on my job, Mr. Wayne'll freak."
Tim sighed, and nodded. The boy always seemed to be trying to run away. He let him go, and collected his shirt from the bed. This time, Tim was the one to leave first, feeling slightly frustrated.
As Tim was making his way out of the hotel, his cellphone buzzed in his pocket. He retrieved it, and saw Dick's name on the caller ID. He flipped the phone open and said hello. "Tim," Dick spoke quietly, but with intensity. "Wherever you are right now, I want you to go home." "Excuse me?" Tim asked, feeling angry. Terry had been avoiding a subject, and now Dick was giving orders. Something had happened that they didn't want him to know about.
"Tim, please, just do what I-" "Not unless you tell me what the fuck is going on," Tim spat, tired of once again being treated like a child. Dick was silent for a while, and Tim almost thought he'd hung up, when he started speaking again. "Batman and I tracked the movements of that gang. They cleared out of the warehouse, so we took another look at it. There was a lab, and... a message. A recording. It was addressed to the kid's real name."
Tim's heart nearly stopped. "And... what was on the recording?" He asked slowly. "A threat by some little punk dressed up like a clown. A threat against the kid... and against you. And... and an ambush." Tim swallowed, his entire body feeling numb. He wanted to go back up to the room and punch the kid in the face for not saying anything about this, but he could understand why the boy wouldn't want to talk about it.
Questions started swimming in his head. Questions about Terry's motivation - he was beginning to tell himself that the boy had invited him to the hotel not because he really did need anything, but because he felt so much pity for Tim that he wanted to give Tim a moment of happiness before telling him about this message. Tim's hand tightened around his cellphone, and he felt like throwing it to the ground, to break something. But he resisted.
"Tim," Dick said, "I want you to go home. I got the kid to lay low for a while, but his family's going to start worrying. I'll be keeping an eye on him until we figure out what our next move is."
"Fine," Tim snapped.
Dick paused, hearing the anger in Tim's voice, then said, "Okay. Stay safe."
Tim slammed the phone shut, shoving it back into his pocket. He continued out of the hotel, onto the streets, that feeling of drowning coming back.