Contrary to popular belief Tim is actually well aware of the importance of sleep. Tim knows that the body needs sleep to function optimally, that he needs to get more of it and imbibe less caffeine. That would all be well and good, if his body would let him.
Tim's no stranger to insomnia. Has suffered sleepless nights staring at the inside of his eyelids over and over until... Well, if he wasn't going to get any sleep anyway he might as well do something else. Tailing Batman and Robin when he was younger then working on cases, tinkering with gadgets in the early morning hours in the Batcave; anything to maybe force his body past the point of no return so he could actually sleep.
While it's gotten better, Tim still spends more time awake then he does asleep. It might be easier, some nights, but not always.
"I'm heading in early." It's a thankfully quiet night but Tim can feel the exhaustion tugging at his limbs. By his estimation he's gotten a scattered total of ten hours of sleep the last couple days and none of it was particularly restful.
"Alright," comes Oracle's computerized voice, "you okay?"
"Fine. Just feeling a little under the weather." It's true enough and Tim manages to be in bed in his apartment a little after 12:30am.
He just has to close his eyes. Close his eyes, stop thinking...
Two hours pass and Tim still. Can't. Sleep.
Fine then. There's WE reports to review anyway. If he passes out while working on the couch then so be it.
The sun is beginning to rise, Tim's living room cast in a deep orange light when there's a noise at the balcony. Even as tired as he is Tim manages to fish a batarang out from the underside of the coffee table and brandish it at the intruder.
"The hell are you doing awake?"
Who turns out to be the Red Hood in all his armoured glory, a plastic takeout bag dangling from one hand.
Tim drops back onto the couch in a huff, rubbing one hand down his face.
"Honestly couldn't tell you. What're you doing here?"
"Blondie told me you were sick," Jason says simply, placing the plastic bag on the coffee table with a thunk. The helmet follows soon after. "Thought I'd drop off some food as thanks for helping me out the other day, especially if you were doing it while getting sick."
Huh. That's awful... thoughtful of Jason. Unfortunately, Tim wasn't any more sick than he was normally, Stephanie had probably exaggerated the problem just through hearsay.
Jason is looking at him. Scrutinizing him in a way only a bat can.
Tim's never exactly told anyone about his troubles with insomnia, content to let everyone just assume it was by choice. Which was probably an entirely different problem in and of itself.
"Alright, come on," Jason says. Commands, really. He's gone from the other side of the coffee table to grabbing Tim by the bicep and hauling him to his feet in the span of a blink. Or maybe Tim's perception of time has completely deteriorated. One of the two.
"What?" Tim asks belatedly in the middle of being dragged from the livingroom to the bedroom. Jason doesn't answer, instead drawing the blackout curtains to block out the rising sun and... it's not quite a shove, but it's definitely not a suggestion either that Tim lie down.
He disappears out the door leaving Tim to wonder if he actually hallucinated all that. There's noise in the apartment- the fridge door opening, the rustling of a plastic bag, the fridge door closing. Tim expects Jason to leave, sighing into his comforter as he tries to get comfortable. If he's lucky he'll fall asleep in a few hours at this rate.
And then he hears the bedroom door close. Footsteps and a weight on the bed. Warm, strong arms pull Tim in until he's pressed flush against Jason's solid body.
Tim starts to wonder if he did fall asleep on the couch and is currently just. Halluci-dreaming. Or something.
Jason's chest expands, his breath ruffling Tim's hair.
"Stop thinking, babybird," he rumbles, squeezing Tim a little tighter.
Tim closes his eyes and falls asleep in record time.












