21, Tim/Jason?
“Stop doing this to yourself.”
“Jason.” Tim’s voice felt like background noise, as Jason threaded the needle in his hand through the wound down on his abdomen. It was shallow and he’d gotten the bleeding to stop, but that didn’t mean the stitches didn’t hurt like a bitch. “Jason.”
Jason gritted his teeth, not looking up. His fingers were bloodstained, red caked up under his nails. He was hurting from the gash on his arm, the blood had chilled and begun to dry and was uncomfortable. The gunshot that had grazed his other arm a few nights prior was burning again, and the bandages on his back were coming loose-
“Jason!” This time Tim’s voice broke into his head, rattled around and made his skull ache. Jason looked up, still holding the needle, and Tim had ripped his mask off, was holding it limp in one hand and just staring at him across the room. “Stop doing this to yourself.”
Jason snorted, looking back at his work. “Ya think I did this to myself, Replacement? You saw it all go down.” Jason tugged the needle, before tying the stitches off and setting it aside. He took a moment to just breathe, before he was reaching for a bottle of pills he’d laid out. He popped it open, tossed two into his mouth and swallowed them dry, hoping they’d take the edge off. He’d run out of anything stronger than over the counter crap.
Tim sighed, and when Jason looked up again he was taking a few steps over. “You’re... not like this.” Tim waved his hand at Jason, at the bloody mess he was. “You’re better than this.”
Jason didn’t say anything, but there was a bitter laugh boiling up in his throat. It choked him, and swallowing it down made his stomach turn.
“Better?” he sneered, standing up. Stripped completely to the waist, he was all dirty, bloody muscle and hulking size. He felt giant-
And yet he felt small, because maybe Tim was speaking the truth.
“Tell that to anyone else in this family and they’ll laugh.” He turned away from Tim, but knew his eyes were taking in the patches of bandage taped all along his back. “Golden boy thinks I’m outta my mind and B thinks I’m a lost cause.” He hunched over, wondering if he could wrap up the gash on his arm and not stitch it. He was sick of stitching himself up.
“And a part of you thinks they’re right.” Tim was suddenly standing next to him, and Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. He had no right being a bat like that. Being anything like everyone Jason wanted to be.
“Fuck on off, Timbo,” Jason snarled, but Tim was touching his arm then, gloved fingers moving up his forearm, just past his elbow. Over the sticky blood and then pausing, so Tim could peer at the gash.
“Can I stitch this one up?” Tim asked, and Jason wanted to scream at him that he shouldn’t even be here. That he shouldn’t have followed Jason home, because word would get back and the family wouldn’t approve-
And why tarnish something good like Tim with his filth?
“Run on home, little birdie,” Jason said, but the venom was fading fast from his voice. “Before daddy Bats gets word you’re out past curfew.”
Tim laughed at that. Something low, small, but real- and Jason hated that it made him smile. Tim carefully tugged his gloves off, dropping them on the table, and grabbing the gauze and disinfectant.
“I’m good at sneaking back in,” Tim offered, carefully beginning to clean the wound. Jason hissed, looked up and away, but couldn’t deny that Tim’s touch was gentle. “And you’re just afraid if I stay, you’ll have to admit that I’m right.”
Jason bit his tongue. Admit that Tim was right- that he was being reckless because he couldn’t stand being disowned anymore? That maybe he had a death wish beneath everything else? That if he couldn’t get back into the family that he had been taken from, that had grown so much- that if they couldn’t understand why he was doing this-
Then what was even the point of going on at all?
“Do you have anything domestic in this place?” Tim asked, beginning to stitch the wound. “Like a coffeepot or mugs and a microwave?”
Jason glanced around the garage like underground hideout. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t live here.”
It was a lie, because he hardly ever went home.
“Well then, think you can keep yourself upright on a bike? I’ll treat you to tea and a couch probably more comfortable than the chair you obviously don’t sleep in here because you obviously leave.” Jason glanced at the computer chair that was showing it’s wear, before he opened his mouth-
And promptly clamped it shut.
“You shouldn’t-”
“I should,” Tim argued, setting the needle down and beginning to wrap a bandage around Jason’s arm. “Because you obviously need something, Jason. And maybe I can’t give you whatever it is... but I can try.” He stepped back, and Jason looked at his arm, before turning his eyes back to Tim.
“You have no reason to. I’ve tried to kill you.”
“Yeah, and I’ve forgiven you.” Tim held out his hand. “Now, tea and a real place to sleep for the night. I’d offer to make you breakfast in the morning, but it’d probably be burn even if it was just toast.”
Jason stared at that hand, before he carefully took it. “Maybe I can handle breakfast,” he said, and he told himself that when Tim flashed a smile, his gut twisted because he was tired and hurt-
And not because Tim’s smile seemed too good for this world.
