Chapter Text
He was all gunpowder and lead. He didn’t choose to live like this, but it was the lot that life had dealt him. He scrubbed at the skin on his arms, rough and covered in miscellaneous scars. Jason was a ticking time bomb that never seemed to go off. He was waiting for the day to come, but the fates seemed to have other plans for him. He sighed, irritated at the idea that he wasn’t in control of his own path in life. Nevermind the fact that he was about to bleed out in a dirty alley - alone, cold, and miserable. How very fitting.
Jason was annoyed, more than anything. A stray bullet from a no name thug? What a boring way to die, and for the second time at that. The first time around was so much flashier. Why couldn’t he have just stayed dead? The thought crossed his mind for the millionth time, and he almost chuckled out loud. Well, it looks like it didn’t matter at this point.
The world went black.
He wasn’t cold anymore. This was slightly alarming, but what was even more alarming was the sharp pain in his right wrist, and the incredibly loud sound of his own heartbeat. He inhaled sharply, tasting iron. Okay. Calm down . He opened his eyes, and to his surprise, he found himself staring at a high ceiling, with rafters. A stabbing pain in his abdomen demanded his attention, unpleasantly reminding him that he was very much alive, but he willed himself to ignore it. He groaned audibly, more a vocal complaint about being alive and conscious than anything else, but the sound triggered a movement in the room, and he started. Normally he could sense when others were present in a space with him. He tried to sit up to inspect his surroundings, but hit a very solid boundary re: his wrist. He was shackled to the head of the bed by his right wrist, which was where the sharp pain was coming from. There was a bandage wrapped around his wrist under the cuff, but under that, the skin felt hot. Jason felt his heart rate spike even further, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and assess his surroundings. He was on a bed, with no covers on his body. His shirt was missing, and his abdomen was tightly bandaged. He still had his pants, but his gear and mask were missing.
Laying very still, he tilted his head towards the movement he noticed. A dark figure slipped out of the room he was in and shut the door. Well, that wasn’t promising. He tried to sit up again, or roll over to assess his surroundings more thoroughly, but the burning pain in his abdomen spread like electricity through his nerves, and the world went dark.
A crowbar. A gun. A switchblade. A pair of bare knuckles. No matter what it was, he was never quite fast enough. He would never be anything but that stupid kid that no one came to save. A manic laugh rattled through his skull and he thrashed, trying to be rid of the poison in his mind. There didn’t seem to be a remedy for memory though, and he contorted, he writhed, he burned.
His eyes shot open, and he tried to sit up, but was yanked backwards by his right wrist, the back of his head hitting the pillow with a dull thud. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head as quickly as he could. The pain in his body had subsided to a dull throbbing, and that was good enough for him. He twisted bodily, and realized the only thing keeping him attached to the bed was his right wrist. Rolling over, he could get a full picture of the room he was in, which currently lacked any other living occupants. Actually, it lacked almost everything a room could contain. The room was almost entirely bare aside from the bed Jason was laying on, which was pushed up against the wall. That certainly didn’t make him feel very at home. He adjusted again - he wasn’t an idiot pedestrian, and even the barest of rooms held clues. The high ceilings were the first noteworthy things, as well as the complete lack of windows, but the door only had one knob, which had a simple lock. So he wasn’t in a loony bin or a hospital. He was in someone’s personal space - the question then became whose space, and where.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Jason’s heart rate spiked, and he shifted onto his back again, feigning sleep. Just in time too, his breath evenly exiting his open mouth as someone turned the knob to the door and slipped into the room. Jason kept his eyes gently closed, the picture of a peacefully unconscious patient. Whoever was in the room approached the bed, stopping right next to it. Wait, Jason. Wait. He felt hands ghost over the bandages on his abdomen. Now .
Lashing out as quickly as his injured body would allow, Jason reached for the stranger with his left hand and legs. Whoever it was jumped back, impossibly nimble. Jason felt his fingers graze them, but he missed by the smallest of increments. The pain in his abdomen came charging in, and he was reminded that he was not exactly in the ideal condition to be ambushing anyone. This didn’t stop him from looking up and meeting eyes with who was in the room with him, and his heart rate spiked impossibly higher.
“Replacement.” The moniker exited Jason’s mouth like he had been shot. Tim looked him directly in the eye for a fraction of a second, emotions flooding across his face, then he was gone, slamming the door behind him. Fuck . Jason had the time to wonder why he was being helped by someone who should want him dead more than anyone else before he slipped back into a familiar darkness.
Fight back. Come on, you were supposed to be better than this. You would never have died in the first place if you had just listened. If you had been skilled enough to fight back. Put up your fists, boy, show a little bit of spunk. Just the smallest amount of initiative, you useless fake. This is why you were replaced in the first place. This is why. This is why. This is why. This is why you have to die.
Someone’s hands were on his abdomen. Eyes fluttering open, Jason tried not to jerk awake violently like he always seemed to. He gazed at the party responsible for the pressure on his abdomen, staring down his replacement. Tim. Tim Drake, boy wonder. He harbored none of the venomous hatred for the boy that the Lazarus Pit had seemed to carve into his mind when he had first come back from the grave. They had worked in adjacent spaces since then, since Jason had tried to push Tim into the grave he had just dug himself out of. They had been civil, but never friendly. But here he was , Jason marveled, laying still as a statute, staring at the smaller boy as he checked Jason’s bandages with delicate hands.
Tim’s eyes flickered up to Jason’s face, and their eyes locked. Tim froze like a deer in headlights, his entire body eerily still, the whites of his eyes a little too visible, and fear noticeable in his features and body language. Jason stared back at him, unmoving, breath caught in his chest, unsure what the best course of action was here. He was struck by the sudden urge to reassure the boy, but he didn’t want to make the first move, for fear of scaring him away. He shifted his left arm, meaning to bring it into full view as a gesture of surrender, but Tim flinched at the movement, springing away from Jason, landing exactly out of arm’s reach.
Tim looked like a prey animal; one wrong move from Jason and he would dart away in a panic. Jason winced - he was in pain still, and he knew Tim’s reactions here were entirely his fault. Could you blame the boy? Attempted murder wasn’t exactly the most friendly greeting card, although Jason had to admit that he had more than a few friends who had tried to kill him before, and he wasn’t personally all too bothered by it. But Tim looked slender and fragile - too breakable to be a Robin. Bruce sure did know how to pick ‘em.
Jason moved slowly, carefully. As smoothly as his injured body would allow, and within the restriction of the cuff on his right wrist, he raised his hands in the universal signal of surrender.
“Look-” Tim flinched at the sound of Jason’s voice, which was especially gravelly from disuse. Jason cleared his throat and coughed. “Sorry kid.” His throat felt like he had swallowed sandpaper and a handful of nails. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise. Can I just… Get a glass of water?” He left his hands up in the air, and Tim stared at him with wide eyes before darting out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him with the audible sound of a lock. Fuck .
Whatever . Jason propped his body up against the head of the bed, sitting up as best as he could. He considered finding a way out of the cuff, but then he would have to figure a way past the locked door, and god only knows what lay past that. Tim was many things, but incompetent was not one of them. Sighing, he inspected his bandaged abdomen. It was well dressed - the bandages could be mistaken for professional if he didn’t know any better.
He still didn’t have a shirt on, and he felt fairly exposed like this. All of the weapons had been removed from his body as well, with a startling amount of thoroughness. He could hardly imagine Tim stripping him and checking his body for hidden weapons - the idea of it made him feel strange, and he wasn’t sure quite how to place it, but it was warm and settled deep into his gut. His chest felt flushed, maybe he was coming down with something.
He wiggled slightly, trying to feel if Tim missed anything on his body, but was interrupted by the door opening, the slight boy slipping into the room, his eyes lowered, closing the door behind himself. He held a glass of water in one hand. Jason froze, trying his best not to spook the skittish boy. Looking non-threatening wasn’t something he tried to do very often, and it wasn’t exactly his forte. He watched Tim as he approached the bed and offered the cup of water like a peace treaty, refusing to meet Jason’s eyes. Jason reached out slowly and took it, and Tim withdrew his arm from a reachable distance, standing with his eyes still lowered as Jason downed the glass of water like a man who had never had a drink before in his life. Jason, unsure what to do with the glass, offered it back to Tim, who hesitantly took it and turned to leave the room.
“Wait,” Jason had a storm of questions whirling through his mind, and asked the first one that came spilling off his tongue: “Why are you helping me?” You, of all people. You should have left me for dead .
Tim turned and met his eyes for the first time, but Jason couldn’t read the emotion reflected in them. It wasn’t fear or sympathy. Jason swore his heart skipped a beat. Tim stood there for a moment, and Jason thought he might get an answer, but after the moment passed, Tim turned and slipped out of the room, shutting the door with a gentle click. So much for that . Jason sighed and sank back into the bed.
The next time Jason woke up, it was with significantly less pain running through his body, and Tim’s hands were on his abdomen again. Jason let his eyes drift open, and took a deep breath in, trying to signal wakefulness without sending Tim running. Tim noticed the inhale and tensed, but didn’t jump away, remaining seated on the very edge of the mattress, his nimble fingers making quick work of the bandages around Jason’s stomach.
“Sorry,” Tim murmured, and Jason started. That was the first word he had heard from the other boy. Tim tensed the slightest amount when Jason moved, the muscles in his hands flexing, a motion that only someone attuned to reading body language would notice.
“Sorry for what?” Jason managed, keeping his voice low and quiet.
“You know,” Tim jerked his chin towards the bandages.
“You’re kidding. I should be thanking you,” Jason was baffled. Tim didn’t respond to that, and Jason was struck by the urge to reach out and lift his jaw up, to force him to meet his eyes. But he had no right to lay his hands on the boy, and he knew it.
“Any chance you could uncuff me? I promise to be on my best behavior,” Jason gave what he hoped was a winning smile. With his luck though, it would be a shit eating grin.
Tim glanced up at him, and Jason swore he noticed Tim’s breath catching in his throat when their eyes met, but Jason must just be projecting. Or maybe it was out of fear . Jason hated that thought, and he pushed it out of his mind.
“You… you’re not trapped here. You were thrashing in your sleep. Hurting yourself. I needed to keep you still.” The words spilled out of Tim like a river, flowing out fast and clear. Jason recognized the truth in them too, he had recurring nightmares and never slept more than a few hours a night if he could help it. Anything to avoid the things he saw when he closed his eyes. He gave a slight tug against the cuff, and immediately recognized the burning skin underneath from yanking violently against the restraint. He wondered how hard he had fought before the smaller boy had cuffed him to the bed. Suddenly worried, he looked more closely at Tim, and couldn’t see any obvious marks on him. He was surprisingly muscular though, and Jason noticed scars littering the visible skin on his forearms, some better healed than others. His knuckles were bruised, but other than that, Jason couldn’t see any fresh injuries on the boy, although it wasn’t like that appraisal guaranteed that Jason hadn’t hurt him.
Tim shifted, his eyebrows knitted together, and Jason realized he had been staring at Tim for longer than was socially acceptable, and quite intently for that matter. A light flush dusted Tim’s cheeks, and Jason wanted to follow it down his neck, his collarbones, and see if the flush spread to his chest. What the fuck .
“Sorry,” Tim apologized again. “I’m just about done.” He looked like he wanted nothing more than to make a mad dash for the exit as he finished the wrapping on Jason’s bandages, and Jason couldn’t blame him. Jason didn’t even want to spend time locked in a room with himself - why would anyone else want to? But he wanted answers from Tim, and he’d be damned if he’d let the boy run off without at least trying to get a few questions in.
“Wait!” Jason grabbed Tim’s wrist and the boy flinched, bringing his free arm up in a defensive motion. The cuff around Jason’s wrist clattered against the bed frame as he leaned forward. “ I’m sorry. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.” Jason echoed the same words he had told Tim before, hoping that this time, they would be believed. He knew that was the type of statement that needed to be backed by actions though, and he wasn’t exactly batting a thousand here. Tim looked from the hand on his wrist, to Jason’s eyes, and back to the hand on his wrist. Jason had the feeling if he let go, Tim would make a break for it, so he didn’t let go. “Just hang on a second, please, I just have a few questions.” Jason once again tried to look non-threatening, but even injured and cuffed to the bed, it was hard to ignore how much of a glaring pretense it was. Whatever . “Did I… hurt you?”
Tim opened his mouth, then shut it again. He looked slightly shell shocked. “…What?”
“Did I hurt you? When I, ya’know. When you had to cuff me to the bed.” Jason rattled the cuff again for dramatic affect.
“No.” Tim looked confused, and Jason found the expression to be incredibly sweet. Like a lost puppy.
Relief flooded his body at the confirmation that he hadn’t hurt Tim, and he crooked one side of his mouth up at him in an attempt at a smile. “That’s good to hear, I’d hate to think that I’d caused you any more trouble than, well, all of this.”
“It’s no trouble,” Tim murmured, still uncertain.
“I’m still not sure why you’re helping me, I’m at a bit of a loss there. Could have left me rotting in that alley and I wouldn't have held it against you. So I guess the cuff is fair for any number of reasons. Can’t say I mind too much though - for you, I’d stay cuffed to the bed any day.” Real smooth, Jaybird. Got any other pick up lines for the boy you tried to kill?
Tim’s face turned a pretty shade of cherry red, and if he wasn’t meeting Jason’s gaze before, now he was looking for a way to never have to make eye contact ever again. “Really, it’s no trouble,” Tim choked out, and Jason felt him hesitantly pulling away, but he didn’t loosen his grip on the boy wonder’s wrist.
“See, I don’t know about that,” Jason was feeling more awake than he had been for the past few days, and while he didn’t want to give Tim a hard time, he was ready and able to push a little bit to get some answers out of him. It seemed like the only way he was going to talk was if Jason pulled the words out of him, and Jason finally had the energy to do that. “You’ve done me a huge favor here, and I don’t even know how I’m going to begin to repay you.”
“Call it a favor. I don’t need payment.”
“That sounds like a trap to me. Don’t tell me you’re going to refuse payment - I’m not in the business of being indebted to people. Come on little bird, what do you want. There’s always something.” Jason tugged him closer, and Tim’s free hand hit the bed to keep him from falling on top of Jason. Tim’s eyes were wide and unreadable, and Jason wondered if he was pushing too hard here - maybe he should keep his mouth shut and say thank you - but Jason never was one for impulse control.
Tim met his eyes and leaned in suddenly, and any thoughts Jason had in his head seemed to fly out the non-existent window. His breath caught, and lips parted slightly, staring at Tim, who he still couldn’t get a read on. The boy was pretty, too pretty for his own good, and Jason hated himself for noticing, for looking.
“You,” Tim said suddenly, firmly but quietly, so quietly that Jason almost missed it. “I want you.”
Jason thought his heart stopped. He must be hearing things. He must actually have died again, or be dreaming right now. Except Tim leaned even closer, and pushed impossibly soft lips against his. Jason suddenly didn’t care if this was real or not, his eyes drifting closed. He released Tim’s wrist and gently brought his hand up to Tim’s face, fingers brushing against his neck and jawline. Tim made a small noise in the back of his throat and Jason wanted to hear more of that, nibbling at his lower lip and running his fingers into Tim’s hair. The handcuff clanked hopelessly against the bedframe, and Jason did his best to ignore the urge to break either the cuff or the bed, focusing instead on deepening the kiss, and what he could reach with his free hand. He trailed his fingers down from the back of Tim’s neck, running down his collarbones and chest, and stopping at his belt line. He slipped his fingers under Tim’s shirt and squeezed his waist, trying to pull the boy closer.
Tim gasped and broke away from Jason, and sprung away from the bed like he had been shocked, eyes wide and his chest heaving. “S-sorry, I’m so so sorry,” he stuttered out, then dashed out of the room, leaving the door ajar. Jason stared after him, too shocked to move or react, lips still tingling from the kiss.
Jason refused to be a sitting duck - he sat up and rifled through his pants until he found one of the concealed knives that Tim missed and picked the handcuff lock, but by that time, Tim was long gone. He found his gear and clothes in a large open room, but it didn’t seem like there was much else in the building. Tim must have abandoned the safehouse. The clothing smelled clean, and he realized with no small amount of shock that Tim must have scrubbed the blood out himself - no way he was taking that to a laundromat. Jason didn’t know what to think. He had taken a lot of time to sort out his feelings on his replacement, from blind hatred and jealousy, to grudging admiration. He had to admit he had developed a bit of a crush on the smaller boy, and appreciated his tenacity and whit. He had always kept his distance though, after what he had done. He assumed that’s what Tim would be more comfortable with, and had happily suppressed all feeling of interest. But this… this, Jason didn’t know what to do with. Tim had kissed him . Tim had kissed him! Tim had kissed him, and then promptly ran like he had been shot. Jason couldn’t blame him for running, that part made sense to him. But the kiss… Jason shook his head, trying to think clearly. Why would Tim kiss him . Him .
Maybe Tim had felt pressured by his flirting? That hadn’t been Jason’s intention - he was merely trying to get a response from the boy. To Jason, flirting came as naturally as breathing. Maybe even more naturally, if he was honest. Fuck . Maybe he should apologize?
Tim was an idiot. He was the pinnacle of dumbassery, an absolutely hopeless case of stupidity. He buried his head into his hands and groaned. How could he let this happen. He had buried the stupid little crush, the foolish obsession he had on Jason Todd deep, deep down, and moved on . Or at least, that’s what he had told himself he had done. He groaned again.
He always looked up to Robin, studied him, followed him with what was often blind admiration. That innocent fixation had taken shape into something more solid the more he had learned about Jason. He had always had feelings for the more volatile Robin, and they had never gone away, even when the other boy had lashed out in the most violent of ways. He knew that Jason couldn’t stand him, so tried his best to avoid close interactions with him. It was only for the best. But here he was, the idiot of the year, having kissed Jason. Tim, you absolute fool. He was cuffed to the bed . But he had never been that close to Jason in private before, never held his gaze like that, and Jason had been using that cavalier tone, the one that twisted Tim’s stomach into knots. He knew Jason hadn’t actually been hitting on him, he just talked like that, he was just pulling his leg, just messing with him… but he had leaned forward before he could stop himself. And now, here he was, an idiot who still had a big ol’ crush on Jason, but now he was going to get his ass beat for it. He was so stupid, and to make matters worse, he didn’t even want to defend himself - if Jason wanted to retaliate here, that was only fair. Like Jason hadn’t already made one attempt on his life. What was one more? Tim, you really have to have the world’s worst taste in men. This must be some sort of record .
But he tried to pull you closer . The little voice in the back of Tim’s head reminded him. He couldn’t forget how Jason’s hand felt cupping his jaw, and it practically felt like his fingerprints were seared into the curve of his waist. He felt absolutely ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop himself from replaying it over and over. The look in Jason’s eyes when Tim said he wanted him. Rough hands that had gently but insistently lifted his jaw. How his lips felt. Teeth nibbling at his lower lip. Fuck . Tim was a lost cause, and he knew it.