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The first inkling Jason gets that Tim is into him sets all their previous interactions into a whole other light. It's late, so damn late it's nearly morning and Jason's crouched on a rain-slick rooftop overlooking the water, waiting on the first peek of sunrise, if only because it's the only way to make his brain calm down after a night like the one he's had out here tonight. Tim's whisper-quiet as he drops down onto the rooftop from the neighboring building. So silent Jason thinks if he weren't so focused on extending himself into the spaces outside himself that he'd have missed it. He knows it's Tim by the way he's so quiet once he's there, like he's respecting Jason's come-down. Not quiet like Bruce would be, all hulking and looming. Not quiet like Damian, where a threat lurks just beneath the surface. Decidedly not Dick's version of not at all quiet when he's come to seek Jason out specifically.
Jason just lingers there, staring into the distance, letting the sun come up, letting the first spark of rays reach out and touch Gotham's wet streets and dark buildings. He feels, some days, like the sun feels hopeless against all that Gotham is. Today, with Tim crouched to his left, he thinks to himself that nothing feels quite as hopeless with such a silent, strong presence beside him. So he thinks of the rays of sun as hoping, desperate to reach whoever and whatever they need to reach, extending brilliant fingers through Gotham's streets in some bid to help them.
When the sun's full presence arrives, Jason stands. Tim stands. There's a moment where Jason thinks Tim is going to just leave without having said a single word. Then his quiet, "Can we um..." a gesture that means nothing at all, "talk or something?"
Jason tips his head toward the safe house he uses the most these days and knows Tim's been tracking him more than he's been aware of when it's Tim who sets off across rooftops, taking the lead, stopping only when he's dropped down onto Jason's balcony. He has the courtesy to let Jason disarm his own alarm system and let them in, though Jason's pretty damn sure it might have been faster to let Tim do it. Which amuses him as they push through the patio door and into the little apartment.
The blinds are pulled over the window, the alarm re-engaged, and then equipment is getting piled on the tarp Jason keeps under the kitchen counter. He pushes the whole of it under the little cubby he's made where there had once been cabinets and then pads into the living room, throwing himself in all his sweaty glory across the duvet he spreads over the couch every evening before he leaves for just this reason. Because fuck showering until he's taken a load off for a few damn minutes after patrol.
Tim sits on the other part of the duvet and idly plays with his own fingers where they dangle between legging-clad legs. His tanktop is sticking to him with sweat, fitting perfectly against all the well-honed muscles and perhaps a little too many peeks of his ribs. Not that Jason's looking of course, but, well, it's hard not to. Tim's close and Jason's human and fucking pan and yeah... human, he supposes.
Still, Tim's too nervous for a chat about a case or something, so Jason pokes him with one bare foot, shoves it against his thigh and pushes. Tim sways. Stills himself. Sighs. And then he looks at Jason and Jason's breath catches. That first inkling crashes into him and takes his breath away because it's more like a full-frontal assault on his senses, the way Tim looks at him. So bare and open and wanting. It feels like a fucking fever dream; something he wants, something he never dared hope for, and it's all right here, right on Tim's face, plain as day.
He waits. Counts the fucking seconds until Tim opens his mouth and whispers, "You know, don't you?"
Jason swallows. Doesn't move to right himself from his strewn position. Doesn't move a fucking muscle least he scare the shit out of the rabbit that's come drifting into the fox den. Jason hopes he's the nice fox, the one that's already eaten dinner and is placid in the face of this gorgeous being that's entered his home. He finally finds his words and breathes, "That you want me? Yeah, I can see it written all over you." He pauses for half a second and then tries to smirk. "Is it written all over me how I feel about that?"
Tim's gaze sweeps over him. Lingers on his lips, his throat, his chest, between his legs, flicks back up to meet his own and burns there like a great inferno. "You're hard."
"Damn right I am."
Tim's there. Over him, astride him, all over him. His mouth is against Jason's, his tongue is in Jason's mouth, his hands are everywhere. It takes nothing but his hands on Tim's hips for Tim to start grinding on him. Arching his back and jerking his hips in frantic waves, grinding the bulges of their erections against one another. Again and again until Tim's pulling back from the kiss, tossing his head back, moaning so fucking prettily and Jason nearly nuts himself on the spot. His hands grip hard, stilling him, growling out, "Not yet," and then dipping down to suck on Tim's Adam's apple. Slicking his tongue over it, nipping it, suckling on the ridge of it and feeling Tim swallow for him again and again. Thinks of how it'll feel when Tim gets his cock in his mouth and swallows that. His own hips start jerking, quick, needy, unstoppable. He's going to cum. Right here. Right against the jut of Tim's cock, humping on the couch like he's in high school again. He doesn't fucking care.
His hips jerk to a stop and he moans, long and loud, a nasty, raunchy sound that makes Tim moan in return, and then his cock is throbbing in his pants, unloading all over the inside of the fabric as Tim jerks his hips needily against him, panting over the skin at the juncture of shoulder and neck until he shoves his mouth against Jason's overheated skin and yells, his hips jerking hard, fucking against Jason's body and Jason knows he's cumming. Knows Tim's following him over the edge, defiling his pants just as much as Jason has his own.
When it's over and Tim sits up, Jason looks down between them. At the dark stain of his cum on his pants. At the cum that's pulsed through the fabric of Tim's leggings and is stringing between them now. He reaches his thumb down and rubs over it. Over sensitive skin and softening cock and slick pearly cum. He licks his thumb after, under Tim's focused gaze and parted lips. Then he kisses Tim and groans as Tim licks the taste of himself right back out of Jason's mouth.
When they both calm down, Jason thinks for a first introduction to the idea that Tim wants him, this was definitely something. A fever dream, a pulsing nightclub, a desperation-filled back room of a fucking revelation. He says, "Stay tonight," and Tim stands, strips off his shirt, his leggings, and holds his hand out to Jason. Pulls him from the couch and leads him to the bathroom and Jason knows. Knows deep down inside him that this is something they're just meant to be. A truth finally freed to reality. He steps through the bathroom door and feels a certainty that he's stepping into something he'll never come back from. Something he's more than happy to give himself over to. And he does it all with a smile on his fucking face.