Chapter Text
It was a week later when there was a firm knock at Jason’s front door. Remembering the last time that happened, he was more than a little reluctant to open it.
“Who is it?” he shouted, not even bothering to leave the sofa. With the wind and rain outside, he was ready for a quiet night in with his book and a pot of tea. Unlike Bruce, he took nights off.
“Just let me in, Jason!” Tim called out. “My hands are full.”
What the hell? The last time he’d seen Tim, he wasn’t so tiny anymore, having regained his normal stature after psyching himself up to drink from the Grail. His lost memories were restored too, and Jason would never forget the wary edge that returned to Tim’s gaze when he looked at him.
Mended fences his ass, or so he’d believed when he rode out of there like Hell itself was on his heels.
“You’re a moron if you decided to venture out in this crap,” Jason stated when he flung open the door, remembering at the last moment that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Whatever, he hadn't had one on the last time he opened the door for Tim. “Are you asking to be put in traction? It’s cold enough we might see ice before dawn.”
Tim wasn’t in uniform. In fact, he was in street clothes. His hoodie was soaked through, but he had somehow managed to preserve the two large take-out bags he carried. From under his hood, he grinned. “I figured it was the only night I could catch you at home. You’re not answering your phone.”
There were plenty of reasons why he wasn’t, not for Tim, not for anyone. “Why are you here?”
“Dinner.” He held up the bags.
Jason shook his head but stepped aside so Tim could enter. “If this is some kinda payment for what I did for ya, I don’t want it.”
“Oh, you mean the hours of misery and griping I’ve had to deal with from Dick, Steph, and Alfred? Thank you so much for sending them every video and picture you took. I appreciate it. Really.”
The sarcasm made Jason laugh and he took hold of the bag Tim held out. “I didn’t share everything. Kept back the really good stuff for a special occasion.”
Such as the next time Tim annoyed the shit outta him.
“I don’t even want to know.”
Jason led Tim into the kitchen and dug through his bag. Inside was another plastic bag, this one sporting the logo of an upscale steakhouse he hadn’t been to in years. There was a medium-rare ribeye in one container, and numerous others that contained a plethora of side dishes, salad, and a small loaf of hot, crusty bread.
His stomach rumbled. But before he showed just what a heathen he was, there was a rather important question he needed an answer to. “Seriously, what’s all this for?”
A faint hint of color tinted Tim’s cheeks and he took a deep breath, fiddling with the worn cuffs of the hoodie he still hadn’t removed. “I was hoping we could continue a certain conversation that we aborted when I was… shorter. Over dinner. I’m not expecting anything else, but I’m willing to lay my cards out if you are.”
Jason opened his mouth and snapped it shut just as fast. He hadn’t expected that Tim would remember, let alone want to pursue it, but here he was, standing in his kitchen soaked to the skin and with dinner from a place that was definitely a step up from pizza. His own feelings were a jumbled mess when it came to the young man standing before him. However, there was one that stood out, forcing him to pause before shutting Tim down entirely.
The peace he felt fall over him as soon as he saw Tim’s grin when he opened the front door. If that wasn’t a sign, then Jason didn’t know what was.
Okay. Time to take a leap of faith. It wouldn't be the first time.
“Sure. How about we put on a movie while we’re at it?”
Tim grinned again and Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “How does Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade sound?”
“Sounds fucking perfect to me.”