Tim couldn't remember the last time he slept an entire night. Ever since he became Robin, his nighttime hours were smashed apart by disasters or nightmares.

Maybe tonight was different because he awoke in the arms of someone he cared about.

Sometime while he was asleep, Jason's arms found their way around the teen's waist. He was snug and safe in his embrace, smiling at the feeling of hot breath on his neck. He was happy knowing that older man cared, even if his conscious mind still wouldn't admit it. Tim wished he could keep this moment forever.

In the morning light, he could see the scars covering Jason's body. White lines danced over arms and chest, the teen could only guess at what made them. He reached upward to trace a jagged line down his shoulder. The skin was warm under his fingertips and he enjoyed the feeling of firm muscle under his palms.

A dangerous thought crossed his mind. He glanced up at the sleeping form and assumed he wouldn't wake for a while. Shifting to get enough room, he hesitated to kiss him gently. Jason made a small noise but didn't wake.

Tim bit his lip in anticipation, taking this as consent. His hands moved to a toned chest and toyed with sensitive nipples. Rosy lips parted to moan the word "…Tim…"

The teen's hair stood on end at the sound and his heart pounded in his ears. He's thinking of me.

The teen moved a little closer and slid his hands down to the waistline of green pajama pants, leaning in to kiss his lips.

Green eyes snapped open to meet blue. Jason was wide-awake and pushed the teen away. "What the hell!" He screamed.

Caught and humiliated. Tim wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean-" He stammered, realizing he had made a huge mistake. He reached out in apology only to have his hand slapped away.

Jason found a bottle of whiskey under the bed and took a drink, strangely grateful for the way it burned his throat. When did he become a masochist? "We can't do this." He said, exhausted.

Tim blinked in disbelief and softly asked "…What?" praying that he heard wrong.

The older vigilante kept his eyes fixed on something in the distance, his expression was troubled. "You heard me"

There was a knife stuck in the teen chest. He made a high-pitched sound of pain, thinking "I can't take this anymore." He pulled himself up and walked out.

Jason breathed in the toxic smoke and forced himself to believe he was doing the right thing by letting him leave. He's a sweet kid, it won't take him long to find someone else.

The words "Someone better" slid out of a dark corner of his mind. It was true, Tim could capture the heart of any one of his "Super-Friends" with just a pout. The clone was a good choice. He was the invulnerable Boy Scout.

Tim would never have to be afraid or stay awake wondering where he was.

…

The teen found his clothes and changed quickly. For a moment he held the faded cotton T-shirt in his hands. "It was fun while it lasted." He thought bitterly. "But I know when I'm not wanted." He tossed it into a hamper and walked towards the door.

Jason was standing there, coolly leaning against a wall as he watched him pass. This was his last chance. The teen stood up a little straighter and said "All I want is a chance to be with you."

The older vigilante shook his head. "You're a kid, you don't know what you want."

Tim's eyes narrowed in anger and his hands were clenched at his sides. "We've spent years fighting the same war you are. If I'm old enough to die from it, I'm old enough to know who I want." Jason was taken aback by when the boy grabbed his belt in desperation and pressed their bodies together.

The teen looked up him with beautiful blue eyes and said "I can tell you feel something for me, and I want a chance to turn it into love."

They stared into each other's eyes for the longest time and the second Robin wanted him more than anything in his entire life. Jason could hear his nails scratch the wallpaper as forced himself not to touch.

He was cracking.

Tim stood on his tiptoes to brush their lips together. He made a confession and hoped it could save them. "I think I love you…"

He cracked.

Jason grabbed him by the hair and crushed their mouths together in a searing kiss. In the violent display of affection, it was surprising that no one split a lip in the process.

He could taste the alcohol in his lips. The teen didn't know if it was him or the whiskey that caused the butterflies in his stomach.

The older man's hands slid under the teen's shirt as he pulled away to taste his exposed throat. Pale skin turned red from sloppy kisses and bites. Tim's back was to the wall, secretly wishing he would leave a mark. The thought of being dominated made his heart beat faster.

He didn't notice his pants were unzipped until a hand pushed inside.

Cotton briefs were soft and smooth under the older man's touch. They were candy-apple red and it was hard to tell if they were supposed to be innocent or sexual.

A soft whimper escaped the boy's throat as Jason was anything but gentle.

"Ja…Jason!" Tim gasped, eagerly bucking his hips into the touch. "Please…" The boy pleaded, unsure of what he was even asking for.

Jason pulled his hand away at the sound of a crash from downstairs.

Tim groaned in disappointment and asked what was wrong, afraid he messed up.

The older man simply threw him a box from a shelf, giving a simple order "Take this and leave, they'll be here soon." The teen was puzzled by the pocket-sized tin and found inside the coordinates and access codes to a location just outside of Gotham. His eyes widened in realization.

"Jason, I'm not going to-!" He shouted, aghast.

There was a painfully familiar 'click' of ammo being loaded into an assault rifle. "Yes, you are." Jason corrected and spoke the next words with a calm that was almost frightening. "I can handle torture, what I can't handle is you getting hurt."

Tim didn't have time to let the words sink in before the vigilante pulled him for one last kiss before pushing him out of a third-story window.

Training and instinct came together to break his fall before the air was alive with gunfire.

Would he stand by the man he loved and betray his trust or abandon him to save the city? He was hanging by a pipe while everything else hung by a thread. The rusted metal creaked under his weight and would soon send him plummeting down.

Jason trusted him, now he had to trust Jason.

…

Meanwhile he was dealing with his own set of problems. These weren't ordinary goons.

They used plastic explosives to blow off the door and found the Red Hood waiting with guns blazing. There were eight of them total and his shots met high-end body armor. Judging from the way they moved, they were US soldiers turned mercenary.

He snorted at the thought. This is too easy.

One assailant had the nerve to break his coffee table on the way down. A sweeping kick sent one to his knees at his feet. He pressed the gun to the back of the man's head and something strange happened.

He hesitated.

And in Gotham, you never forget one of the first laws of the street.

If you don't pull the trigger, someone else will.