Work Text:
Jason heard a knock on the door.
He immediately straightened from where he was lounging on the couch, following along to an audio book (Rebecca). There would be no reason for anyone to knock on his door an hour before patrol unless it was an emergency. Jason started towards the door with caution.
"Who's there?" he called out, fingers tense and reaching for the gun hidden in the shoerack beside the door.
A voice cleared their throat and replied, "Tim."
The hand reaching out for the gun paused.
He peeped through the peephole and unlocked the door, opening it to see Tim standing on the 'welcome' mat, wearing his suit and tie CEO uniform with the suit jacket hung over his arm and a bag slung over a shoulder. He had snowflakes in his hair, and the shirt was definitely not enough to keep him warm; he was slightly shivering.
"What are you doing here?" Jason snapped, suddenly annoyed. Sure he made up with the Bats and became close enough that threats of violence to each other was just teasing, but that didn't mean they could just stroll in here and interrupt the time he set aside for himself. "Don't you have patrol?" he continued, his tone fully displaying his annoyance.
But then, to his horror, Tim teared up.
Jason's eyes widened in fear and his heart skipped a beat, not knowing how to react.
He looked Tim over, up and down, but found no injuries. He looked around the hallway for any intruders responsible for making the kid cry, but found no one.
Tim was crying now. To his credit, he kept it quiet. Biting his lip and controlling his breathing to keep from sobbing out loud.
Then, to add to Jason's horror, Tim said, "I want a hug." And damn it— he said it so quietly, as if he was afraid but was too tired to cover everything up anymore.
"Timbo, what happened?" Jason's brow creased in concern.
"Ba— bad week," the kid hiccuped. He sniffed and wiped the tears from his cheeks, only for more to fill the cleared up space. "I had a bad week," he repeated, his voice going quieter and quieter until it ended on a squeak.
Jason didn't know what to do.
He stood aside to let Tim in, but Tim was looking down at the floor, trying to clear his face of his tears and failing.
"Last— last Wednesday I had a deadline which I missed. The next day, I tried to make up for it but forgot about a meeting. Tam rescheduled it on Friday, and it was going really well, but near the end, my shoulder started bleeding from the barbed wire cut I forgot to change the bandages for. On Saturday, Bruce got mad at me for upsetting Damian, but he was the one who stole the toilet paper from my bathroom. And on top of that, Dick heard about it and called all the way from Blüdhaven to lecture me on the phone about taking it easy on Damian and how it was a harmless prank. He got mad when I cut the call and didn't listen to him so we didn't go to the arcade on Sunday. And—"
A loud sob burst through his lips and Tim shook his head miserably as tears continued flowing.
"And on Monday I messed up Alfred's gingerbread. All of it. I accidentally knocked the molasses while getting coffee because I had a case to work on along with two Wayne Enterprises community projects. And Alfred— and Alfred—" Tim sobbed out loud again and bit his lip to keep from letting more escape. "Alfred was angry. He— he was angry at me. Like, really angry. And you know he doesn't get really angry much. But he did and it's all my fault."
"Tim…" Jason started to interrupt, but Tim mowed on right over him.
"And then on Tuesday I landed on a shard of glass from a broken vodka bottle while fighting Condiment King and I didn't want to go to Alfred because he was still mad. And so was Bruce and Dick. And I couldn't very well go to Damian, he'd tease me for getting defeated by Condiment King. Steph wasn't home and I didn't want to disturb Cass. Duke asked if I was alright and I said yes so I couldn't go to him either." The crying had subsided a little during the explanation. But after the next words, it resumed its full force again. "So I had to bandage it by myself."
Tim sobbed out loud again and gave up any hope on cleaning the tears on his face. He used his sleeve to wipe his nose. "I haven't had to look after a significantly bleeding injury alone in weeks. I don't like being alone, not at all." Tim shook his head, rubbing a wet eye and whimpered. "I don't like it. But today I came across a rat on the way to work and I thought I was okay at first but—" Tim whimpered. "But I was not. I had to duck inside a bathroom because I got a panic attack and I had to stave it off by myself. Again."
Tim hiccuped. "I left work early and came here because— because I had nowhere else to go and—" Tim bit his lip again. "And I want a hug."
He stood there in front of Jason's apartment, crying as quietly as possible, minor sniffles and hiccups and whimpers escaping him, shaking with the shivers.
Jason shifted uncomfortably. "That does sound like a bad week," he commented.
Tim nodded and continued crying, wiping his nose and tears with his sleeves.
Jason sighed.
He needed his alone time. To recover and recollect himself. He learned ages ago why it was important. Because for moments just like these.
"I don't know if you're hungry," Jason began, "but I do still have leftover gingerbread men. Might recompense missing out on Alfred's."
"I forgot to eat dinner yesterday and lunch today," he admitted in a whisper.
"Thought so. You're as scrawny as ever."
He waited a beat, looking Tim over again.
"Alright. Come on in then." He held the door open.
Tim walked in, still unsure, but his sagged shoulders indicated that he just didn't care anymore.
Jason closed the door and turned up the heat on the thermostat for Tim. "Put your bag down there and get that hoodie from the chair there. You're traumatizing that suit with your tears. Quickly change, I'll get the gingerbread ready."
Tim nodded and followed the instructions, sniffling but no longer crying.
When he came back, having washed his face and wearing Jason's hoodie that was huge, but warm for him, he lingered by the doorway, watching Jason as the older boy moved around the kitchen.
"These aren't fresh from the oven," Jason called over his back when he saw Tim arrive, "but they're just as good. I got some icing and candy out so you can even top it off or decorate it a little." He set everything down. "Might cheer you up."
Tim didn't move immediately. He eyed the bowl of icing, the plate of various bright-colored candy, and the tray of gingerbread men.
"After a frustrating night out, I decided to make my own," Jason explained.
Tim sniffed one more time before he grabbed the spoon for the icing. He unceremoniously dumped a dollop of icing on a gingerbread man, clumsily sprinkled the candy and did the same with two more.
Jason watched with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.
Tim set everything down and rubbed his nose before moving forward to eat one.
"Wait," Jason suddenly said.
Tim looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed, his nose and cheeks were pink, he was sniffing heavily, and his shoulders still drooped. All in all, he looked quite the pitiful sight.
Jason raised his arms.
Tim looked at them and his lip wobbled.
"Come on," Jason said gently and the dam broke.
Tim started sobbing again, not bothering to keep quiet, and fell into Jason's arms. He let himself be hugged and held as Jason ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair.
"No one is seriously mad at you, Tim," Jason said softly. "You're catastrophizing. The bad week was getting in your head. Bruce and Dick are okay now and probably have forgotten about that. Damian is still discovering the boundaries of how far his childish behavior can go. Alfred can never stay mad at us for long, he was probably more pissed that you weren't sleeping and were taking coffee instead. And the others… Tim, you can't seriously think that no one would want to help wrap your wounds? We want to do that. We want to take care of each other."
Tim didn't reply, too busy crying into Jason's jacket.
"I'm glad you finally came to me though. Proud of you."
Tim gripped Jason harder.
"Love you, baby bird." He kissed the top of his brother's hair. "Let's tackle your bad week, one bad thing at a time. Starting with those wounds and cookies, okay?"
Tim sniffed and gave a teary smile. "Okay."