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It was just past four in the morning when Jason caught up to Tim on patrol. He'd been working too fucking late too often lately, and Jason was gonna start dragging him home at a reasonable time if it killed him, because more sleep deprivation was just the last thing his sweet little freak needed.
He took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, leaving him in just his domino, and approached Tim — who must have been occupied with something (maybe just in his own brain, because Jason didn't hear his police scanner and couldn't see anything noteworthy from his vantage point), because he didn't look back at Jason approaching.
Jason slid his hands over Tim's hips, and Tim jumped in surprise, which made Jason jerk back slightly, though he didn't let go. What the hell? He had been quiet, but he was usually quiet, and Tim always noticed — always, always he knew what was going on around him. Unless he was really absorbed in a case. He only tended to retreat that far into his head in the safety of home or the Cave, though. But…maybe something had just caught his attention and really got him going, regardless of being out on a rooftop in the middle of Gotham?
Jason let his helmet drop to the roof and stroked his hands soothingly over Tim's hips, leaning in again and kissing behind his ear before pressing his body closely against Tim's back.
For some reason, Tim stiffened, and Jason turned his head to look out over the city, looking for whatever Tim might have spotted that caused him to go on alert. But he saw nothing.
"You see somethin', baby?"
"Oh, er, no."
Maybe it was just that a couple other things had already started raising his spidey senses and now Jason was just being hyper-sensitive to everything, but that… He didn't know. It rubbed him wrong. The cadence was off, the…words? That just wasn't how Tim usually talked, and Jason was pretty sure he'd heard him in just about every emotion several times over. Maybe he was overthinking it. People changed the way they talked sometimes, right? Picked up things from people and media around them?
He kissed the side of Tim's head. "It's time to go home, baby. You been stayin' out way too late lately." He leaned to kiss the shell of his ear, and then murmured lowly in it, "Come home and let me tie you up and fuck you good." He pulled Tim's hips back harder against him.
"Oh." Tim cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Erm. I'm not really in the mood. Just, you know, like you said, I've been staying out later; I'm feeling more stressed lately."
That set alarm bells absolutely blaring in Jason's head, and before he even consciously made the decision to do so, his hand was wrapped around Tim — Not Tim's — throat and he was dragging him back toward the roof access door and slamming him against it. "Who the fuck are you?" He snarled.
"Wh— What?" Not-Tim stuttered. "I— I can't say no sometimes?"
Jason tightened his hand. "It's not about that, and if you were Red, you would know that."
That still hit right in Jason's sensitive spots though. He knew— he knew this couldn't be Tim, everything screamed wrong, but the little piece of him that always feared he was a monster — always feared he was just on the brink of some tipping point — eked poisonous tendrils of doubt into the back of his mind.
He knew rationally, though, that when he laid out the facts, that made no sense, and it was just his fears. This wasn't Tim. If it was actually Tim, he wouldn't have acted anything like that, and Jason knew that if Tim ever seriously said no, he'd take it just fine — or, at least, that was what he was trying to assure his fears. Yes, even little slut that he was, Jason wouldn't automatically think it was beyond wild for him to say no. But sex was how Tim relaxed, sex was how he unwound and destressed, and if he was feeling more stressed lately, the last thing it would do was make him not want to fuck. And combined with everything else, all the little off feelings, oh yes, this was not Tim, and Jason probably should have listened to what the back of his brain was trying to tell him sooner. Before he touched all over the bastard. Ugh.
And…and, most importantly, Tim would never ask Jason if he couldn't say no sometimes, like he didn't know. Even when Jason's fears tried to tell him he might be intimidating Tim or pressuring him somehow, he knew Tim would never say anything that could make Jason start to question or spiral like that. Even if Jason wasn't sure anybody else saw him that way (wasn't entirely sure it was true at all, sometimes), Tim was incredibly and passionately vocal about Jason being…considerate. Respectful of boundaries. A good person. And Tim was way too fucking self-aware to say something like that unintentionally, or at least not to quickly realise the connotations of what it might imply and say something.
No, he knew Tim. He did, and not only was this definitely not his favorite little freak, this wasn't even a good imitation of him.
Not-Tim gasped for air, and Jason slackened his grip again to let the imposter breathe.
"Please, y-you're scaring me, this— this isn't like you."
"Oh yeah?" Jason asked flatly. "Funny you should say that, because it's exactly like me, and he's rather intimately aware of that. You're not even a good imposter. Ugh. Tell me where the fuck Red is before I lose my patience and shoot you."
"No— But I mean, not to me!"
Jason laughed.
"Please. You're— You're hurting me."
Jason only laughed harder at the delicious irony. Genuinely angry and choking him out on a rooftop was exactly what had gotten them into this whole relationship, because despite all better judgement, it turned Tim the fuck on and he didn't know how to hide it for shit. Tim might be a little upset trying to convince Jason if it really was him in a situation like this, but by god he would be horny, willingly or not.
"Oh, you couldn't be less like him if you tried." Jason gave the imposter a nasty grin and pulled his gun from his thigh holster with his free hand, holding it up in view. Time to stop playing around and figure out what had happened to his precious, obsessive, high-strung, loving little sex fiend before Jason absolutely lost it on this shitty imposter (which was only getting more tempting every second he tried to keep up this stupid charade). But Jason was fine. He was fine. He had control of himself. He could keep ignoring the part of him that was starting to want to just put a bullet between this walking corpse's eyes and shove the body off the roof; he could keep acting…normally. He had practise. Lots of practise. Years of practise. It was fine. (Hopefully.)
"This is how this is gonna work: I'm gonna ask you a question, and every time you don't answer, lie, or don't answer to my satisfaction, you get another bullet in you. It's one of my favorite games, let's see if you like it too — I'll start you off easy with your left knee, okay?"
He flicked the safety off with his thumb.
"Nonono don't, please," the imposter rushed out before he even had to cock it. "What do you wanna know?"
"Oh. Good boy," Jason said overly patronisingly. And then, flatly, "Where is Red?"
"I— I don't know exactly— WAITWAITWAIT!" The imposter begged when Jason shifted. "I know who took him!"
"I'm listening," Jason prompted, when the imposter stopped there.
"I was hired by a man named Michael Dreson, he just said he had a personal grudge against Red Robin, and he had a bunch of goons he'd hired to help take him down and he said something about taking him to a warehouse, but that's all I know!"
"So why are you here, what's your purpose?"
"He wanted a magic user to pretend to be you to get Red Robin off his guard so they could take him by surprise. Then once they took him, he wanted me to stick around as Red Robin to keep the bats off his tail. If they didn't know Red Robin was missing, they wouldn't come looking. I just had to make it seem like everything was normal."
Jason scoffed. "That is the stupidest shit in the world. You suck at it." He let go of the imposter and stepped back. "Thanks for the info." And then, just as the imposter started to get a hopeful look in his eyes that he might be being let go, Jason cocked his gun and shot him in the knee anyway.
The imposter screamed and crumpled to the ground, his magic bleeding away like pigment on wet paper, apparently in too much pain to hold it in place any longer.
What a little bitch. He should really be fucking grateful Jason shot him in the knee. He could have still shot him in the head and pushed him off the building. Nothing was stopping him except maybe wasting a tiny bit more time instead of going straight to look for Tim. (It would probably only take a minute, he couldn't help thinking. He could probably do it in less if he really wanted. He was in a bit of a hurry after all.)
"Oh yeah, didn't I tell you?" Jason said casually. "You can't win the game. Don't impersonate my fucking partner, asswipe."
He left the imposter there, and went to go grab his helmet, putting it on, briefly turning back to save an image of his face to research and deal with him later, and then shooting off a grappling line to go…search every goddamn fucking werehouse in Gotham, he guessed, and bring Tim back home.
Oh god, there were so many fucking werehouses.
• × •
"Do you know why I brought you here, Red Robin?" The villain wannabe asked, with what was clearly a practised 'villain voice'. It wasn't very good.
"Enlighten me. I'm sure you will anyway, absolutely regardless of my response or lack thereof," Tim said dryly.
This was honestly humiliating — and not in the sexy way for once. Bested by this guy and his cheap goons? Ridiculous. Tim was never going to hear the end of this if this got around to the rest of the family.
No, he had to get himself out of this before anybody found out. He could handle a lot of mortification, but not this kind; he'd honestly rather Jason fuck him in the middle of his office, and that was saying quite a lot, because that would probably ruin his life as he knew it. But at least it would be temporarily sexy! There was nothing at all sexy about this. Just ridiculous.
But he was strung up by his wrists so his toes just grazed the floor when he stretched, and his ankles were tied together as well, so…yes, he was in a bit of a pickle right now if he didn't plan on dislocating his shoulders, which…he might have to do. But could he take them all on with both shoulders dislocated? Perhaps he had to admit that that was a little doubtful if they had bested him the first time without impairment (even if they did get the element of surprise by using that fake Red Hood. Ugh. He wasn't even good either; the only goddamn reason Tim was so distracted was that he was worried about Jason hiding an injury, because he'd never heard him approach that fucking noisily. Like a herd of goddamn elephants. So sue him for naturally immediately going over to ask what the hell was wrong and trying to check him over when he sounded off as hell — of course that had made Tim think he was lying! Or, actually…not sue him; string him up in a shadowy, musty fucking warehouse, he guessed). And if he failed fighting them like that, he'd just be right back where he was now, but up two dislocated shoulders, which…wouldn't be an ideal experience. Granted, in this position, it was probably going to happen anyway at some point depending on how long it was before someone else found him, but it was probably best not to suffer through that for longer unnecessarily.
Nothing for it then, he supposed. He would just have to wait and hope someone found him sooner rather than later. And that hopefully it was Jason, to spare him from the ridicule of the others. Ugh.
The wannabe villain did some sort of put-on villainous hand gesture, lightly steepling his hands and tapping his fingers against each other, and Tim sighed. Not as deeply as he really felt, due to the constrained allowance of his position, but it was the thought that counted.
"All three of my closest friends — my confidantes, my brothers — managed to get caged up in prison because of you!" Wannabe Villain accused, pointing at him dramatically. "Separate incidents! It was like you had it out for me!"
"Maybe they…shouldn't have committed crimes then?" Tim offered.
"Shut up!" Wannabe Villain snapped, clearly not appreciating his well crafted monologue being interrupted. He stepped closer. "Well, Red Robin," he continued, as if there had been no interruption at all, "I got to you first! And I think I'm going to pay you back for all of our misery. Do you know what prison is like? It hasn't been pretty in there." He stopped right in front of Tim and set a finger against his chest, pushing slightly. "I think I'm going to beat you into submission the same way my brothers have been. It's only fair, after all, isn't it? To take what you serve?"
"Yeah, well since I serve justice and I'm sensing a suspicious lack of that here, I'm not really sure you're operating in fairness," Tim quipped back.
"Shut up, you high and mighty scum! I will make you see the fairness here, I will make you admit it by the end of this." Wannabe Villain turned away and started walking off into the shadows.
Tim sighed again. "Fine. Do what you want. Clearly I'm not going to change your mind." He could handle a little beating just fine. It wasn't his favorite in a non-sexual (non-Jason) context, but he'd be fine.
Wannabe Villain threw his head back and laughed maniacally.
At first Tim thought it was just more theatrics, thinking he'd had a win in Tim accepting his fate, but—
"Oh." He said, whirling around. "That's right. You think you know something I don't know."
Tim got the distinct impression he was not going to like where this was going.
"You know, I put a lot of effort into making this whole plan work." Wannabe Villain waved his hand vaguely, now barely visible in the shadows. "And while I was collecting information on what sort of schedule you might have, where you tend to be during the night, I had a very interesting conversation with a homeless woman. See, she told me that she didn't know anything about you directly, but she'd overheard Robin and Batgirl talking as they went past the alleyway where she sleeps. She said that Batgirl said something about some nasty injury you had, but Robin," wannabe Villain's grin was utterly maniacal, the dim light reflecting off his teeth bared wide, "oh, dear sweet Robin said 'Don't bother feeling bad for him; you know he likes the pain'. And Batgirl laughed. Do you know what that means, Red Robin?"
Tim didn't answer. He didn't like this. Not one tiny little bit. Also, he was going to strangle the little demon as soon as he got out of here.
"It means," Wannabe Villain said, manic smile still in place as he reached down for something on the shadowed floor, "I don't have to go easy on you at all, now do I? You won't pass out or go into shock, will you? You'll take it, wide awake and aware." When he straightened, he was holding a whip, a genuine whip, and god knows where he got it, but Tim really hoped he didn't know how to use it. Thankfully it didn't look like a bullwhip, it was a lot shorter and hopefully less powerful than that, but it still looked like it could do some serious damage in malicious hands. "And we're going to see just how sincere you are about that."
Oh, this was gonna be bad.
He circled behind Tim, and at least he had warning of it whistling through the air before the first crack over his back.
It could have been worse. His uniform was definitely shielding him a not-insignificant amount, and he had a high pain tolerance. I could have been worse.
By the tenth crack over his back — finally breaking through his uniform and hitting bare skin — he felt a bit different.
It felt like Wannabe Villain didn't have the pure force and brute strength behind the blows that Jason did, but that didn't mean he wasn't still hitting hard, and the whip stung more sharply than the belt. And, most of all…he wasn't attracted to Wannabe Villain, and this was probably the least sexy scenario possible. Even when he hadn't been anything close to loving Jason, he'd still thought he was hot, he'd still liked the idea of being dominated by him, that was what turned him on. This wannabe villain…not so much at all. That didn't exactly make it hurt more — he still felt just as much pain when he was getting off on more serious things that the endorphins didn't overwhelm, things beyond just normal spanking or scratching — but there were none of the accompanying good feelings that still came with it, and further, there was self loathing and the very non-sexy kind of humiliation for even being in this situation in the first place. And that all just made it incredibly more unpleasant.
"What do you think, Red Robin?" Wannabe Villain asked. "Do you still like the pain?" He cracked the whip hard against his back again. "We'll find your breaking point eventually." Another loud crack and another sharp line of fire across Tim's back. "Tell me it's fair! Tell me you deserve this!" The next crack of the whip was notably harder than the previous ones as Wannabe Villain's voice kicked up another hysterical note. "It should be easy for you — you must be used to submitting, aren't you? Tell me!"
Yes, this was very, very not good.
• × •
As much as Jason hated asking for help or leaning on others (especially Bruce), when it came to Tim and having no idea what the hell could be happening to him right now, and having no other lead more than searching all of the over two hundred warehouses Gotham was home to, Jason had to put that shit aside. So he had contacted the others, and they were now all out searching for their missing bird.
That had probably been the best decision, but still, Jason was incredibly relieved to be the one to have found him.
Maybe he shouldn't have been though, because when he snuck in a back window and saw a whip connecting with Tim's back, saw the state of him — hanging by his wrists with his shoulders looking like they were close to pulling out of their sockets, the back of his uniform torn open raggedly over his back, which was covered in welted and bleeding lash marks — Jason saw green.
He shot the man's hand as he pulled back for another lashing, grateful that he'd chosen such a high point of entry. It allowed him to easily pick off the — stupid — panicked goons who came rushing to the man who must be their boss one by one. Dreson, was it? Jason was aiming for less vital areas, but he didn't particularly care if they died. He didn't care if they moved in an unexpected way, or another one got in the way, he didn't care. They were all going down one way or another.
He shot out a grappling line to one of the rafters and grappled down to the floor, a green haze still over his vision as he stalked through the carnage to Dreson, who seemed to be frozen in fear, cradling his hand and watching him with wide eyes.
He cocked his gun again, and kicked a final body out of the way. Dreson stumbled back a few steps, but Jason grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him close. And then he shoved the gun against his kidney and pulled the trigger. "Remember this feeling every time you think about laying another finger on Red Robin. Next time, it'll be right between your eyes."
He dropped Dreson to the ground, ignoring his obnoxious wails; he'd heard Jason, and he'd fucking remember.
Honestly, he might even die this time, but theoretically…people could survive without one kidney, and an ambulance could get here before he died from blood loss. Jason kind of hoped it didn't. He really didn't want to hear Bruce's bullshit for it though.
He ran to get one of the shipping crates from the edges of the room and push it over toward Tim, grabbing his legs and helping him up to crouch on top of it, and then leaping up beside him. He pulled Tim against his chest with a hand on the back of the neck to avoid the wounds on his back so he wouldn't fall backward, and pulled out a knife to start cutting him down with his free hand.
As soon as the rope snapped, Tim's arms dropped, but Jason caught the wrist he could, slowing its descent. "Careful, careful baby." He eased Tim's arm down back into a resting position, and Tim made a small noise.
"Oh god, fucking embarrassing to be caught by that loser. He wasn't even a real villain, just a try-hard wannabe."
Jason's lips pressed together. Leave it to Tim to try to brush this shit off. "It happens. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, it's whatever, I just wanna go home. Get cleaned up."
Jason sighed. "Okay. Lemme just— You steady? Hold my hand. Both hands." He pulled away and made Tim grab his hand with both of his as he kneeled down to cut through the bindings around Tim's ankles. "Okay, there we go. C'mon baby, let's get you home."
Jason jumped down from the shipping container, and carefully helped Tim down.
He turned away and started to lead them out of the warehouse, but Tim tugged at his hand, making him turn back.
"C'mere."
Jason stepped closer.
Tim raised up on his toes to give him a kiss. "I love you."
Jason kissed him again and stroked over his cheek. "Love you too, baby."
• × •
Tim was unusually withdrawn when they got home and showered together, and while Jason tended to his wounds. (He tried to just breathe deeply and not think about that either when some of the lash marks needed stitches. Tried not to imagine going back and making sure Dreson met his miserable end on the bloody floor of that warehouse.)
His silence made Jason a little nervous.
He wasn't sure how much what had happened tonight was affecting Tim, but he was pretty sure it was, and the fact that Tim had tried to pretend it wasn't earlier didn't necessarily bode well for the future. Although, maybe now that he was safer, at home, with just Jason, it would feel more…okay? To admit that it wasn't okay?
Jason hoped so.
He finished up with Tim's back and kissed the top of his shoulder. "All done, baby."
Jason got up to start putting the supplies away, only to stop short, when Tim quietly said, "Beat me."
He looked back at him. "What? Baby, your body's been through a lot tonight, I don't think that's a good idea." And he also didn't want to immediately bring the whipping right back to him like it was happening again, jesus christ. He didn't know if that was Tim's intention or not, if he was intentionally being self destructive, or if he just wasn't thinking and wanted to get off and get his mind off of it, but either way, it was a bad idea.
Tim looked up and met his eyes, his gaze intense. "Jason. I need you to beat me."
"Baby…why? I really don't think that's a good idea right now. We can do something else, anything else."
Tim brought his hands up to his temples, looking frustrated. "I just— I need— I want you to rewrite it. Just. If you can just— just rewrite it with you overtop, make it something good, so I don't have to get upset every time I see the marks, so I just don't have to think about it as much—"
Jason came over to stroke his shower-damp hair back out of his face. "I— …Are you sure?"
"Yes," Tim said, looking desperate. "Yes, please."
Jason pressed a kiss to his forehead, stroking a hand back through his hair. "Okay baby." He tilted his face to kiss his lips, brief and sweet. "But you tell me if it's not turning out like you thought it would, okay?" He said sternly. "You tell me if it's not feeling good."
Tim nodded. "Okay." He kissed Jason again. "Okay. I love you."
"Love you too, sweetheart," Jason said, cradling his cheek. "Now let's see about getting you situated."
Jason categorically refused to tie Tim up, much to his annoyance, on the basis that his shoulders had been through quite enough stress tonight and needed time to heal, so Tim was just going to lie there, and he was going to like it. Tim laughed at that, and eventually managed to get Jason to concede to tying his ankles at least, spread eagled.
And then finally, at long last, Jason got the belt.
The first strike did not feel very good at all. Nor did the second, or the one after that. Tim had been starting to get turned on as they'd prepared for all of this, but he was…not feeling very horny right now.
He knew he had told Jason he'd tell him, but he had to at least try first. If that didn't work, then he'd tell Jason. And it would be fine.
He had to try.
So Tim forced his eyes open and stared at Jason. This was Jason beating him. Jason who he was so in love with, who was so sweetlovingcaringbeautifulsexywonderfulperfect. Jason who was beating him because he loved Tim, because he wanted to help him feel better, because he wanted to make him feel good. It was Jason, Jason, Jason, and he just wanted to make Tim come, and he could, he'd done it a hundred times before, he loved being beaten. It was hot and it gave him a dopamine hit just like most of the shit Jason did to him, and he wanted it, wanted it, wanted it; of course he wanted Jason to beat him, he always wanted Jason to beat him, didn't he? It turned him on so much so fast, and Jason knew it, Jason wanted that for him.
Tim pushed his hips down against the bed, encouraging his slowly hardening cock, and made a small noise as his eyes finally fluttered shut again. There we go. He just had to remember he was in safe, loving, oh-so-pleasurable hands now.
Tim felt a pleasant little tingle in his head on the next hit, and gave a small moan — a tiny echo of what he usually felt, but he would get there, he was sure of it now.
And, indeed, the feeling did keep growing until Tim was letting out gasping moans and grinding desperately against the bed as the dopamine rush threatened to overtake him.
The belt smacked down again hard, and Tim felt himself come, mindlessly rutting against the bed as the feeling peaked. "Oh god, oh— oh fuck yeah, yes," he babbled incoherently.
After a minute, his hips finally slowed, and he took a massive gasp of air in, trying to steady his breathing and calm his heart. "Oh fuck," he let out quietly.
That was when he finally realized that Jason had stopped with the belt. "Keep going."
"Wha— Baby you already came, and your body's been through a lot tonight—"
"Keep going." He wasn't done. He wasn't done rewriting yet. Jason hadn't taken things to the same level yet, they didn't compare enough. He got beaten like this all the time. If he wanted to convince himself those injuries were from Jason, he needed more.
Jason hesitated, but went back to beating him.
Now that his orgasm was over, it wasn't quite so good, but it still had a fuzzy aura of pleasantness around it, and Tim would be content to lie here in vaguely turned-on pain for a while if that was what it took.
After a few minutes, one of the lashes suddenly felt sharper, and he heard Jason drop the belt to the floor. "Shit."
"Don't stop."
"Baby, you're bleeding!"
Tim opened his eyes to meet Jason's directly. "Don't stop." Good. That was exactly what he needed.
"No. No. I'm not— I can't do that. I'm not gonna beat you fucking bloody."
Tim softened. "Jay. You're not hurting me. I promise you're not really hurting me. I want it and it still feels good. You're not hurting me."
Jason closed his eyes and took a very deep breath, pausing for a moment before slowly letting it out. There were several long tense moments of silence, before he quietly said, "If you're lying, I'm going to be so unbelievably fucking upset with you."
"I'm not, darling; I promise you're not really hurting me, and I love you, and I'd never do that to you, okay?"
Jason took another deep breath before finally opening his eyes and reaching down for the belt. "Okay." He said quietly.
"I'll tell you when to stop," Tim reassured. "I promise I will."
Jason nodded and struck out with the belt again.
Despite the sharper, more stinging pain when the belt at first occasionally started to break skin, and then soon, more reliably, Tim found himself starting to get hard again after a while.
"Shit," he mumbled into the sheets, and ground his hips against the bed. "I think I'm gonna come again."
He hoped it was soon, because he was pretty sure he did have a breaking point after all, and he was nearing it. His ass and the tops of his thighs were fucking screaming at this point, and there was now something to take attention away from his back some at least, but every time he rolled his hips, he ended up tensing some of the muscles in his back, which disturbed everything, and made the pain flare up higher. He was still getting just enough of that dopamine hit, though, to desperately seek after more of it, and he didn't want to stop, he really wanted to fucking come first.
He ground his hips slightly desperately against the bed, seeking to urge things along. Fuck, fuck, if he could just come faster—
"God, you really are such a slut," Jason sighed.
And that was all it took before Tim was crying out into the sheets, burying his face against them as he rode out his second orgasm of the night.
"Stop," he gasped out, as soon as he was able, and he heard Jason drop the belt.
His ankles were quickly freed, and then the bed dipped as Jason kneeled between Tim's legs, lightly stroking his hands over the very outside of his hips — one of the few uninjured places available. "Oh, baby, baby. You really had me do a number on you. Are you okay?"
Tim nodded. "Yeah. No, I— I think it did help. It's…easier this way."
"Okay. Okay sweetie," Jason whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of his thigh, just below where the lash marks began. "Let's work on cleaning you up. I'll be right back."
When he came back, Tim felt him gently dabbing a cool washcloth over his new wounds, which felt nicely soothing on the burning, inflamed skin. But quickly, Jason's treatment turned not so nice-feeling as he wiped all of it thoroughly with iodine.
"Sorry baby."
Tim sighed and braced himself. "It's okay."
It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't any worse than cleaning his back had been, and Jason was clearly trying his best to be as gentle as possible, so there was that at least.
In short order, Jason managed to get everything covered over with vaseline, strip the sheet from the bed, and help Tim into loose cotton boxers and t-shirt to sleep in so everything was covered but able to breathe.
They settled in bed, and fuck it, Tim was gonna be in serious pain no matter what, he may as well still cuddle with Jason. He snuggled closer and slid his leg over Jason's hip.
However, as they settled in to sleep, all the emotions from the night finally started to catch up to Tim.
And god fucking dammit, he felt his eyes suddenly overflow, and he didn't even know quite why he was crying, because mostly he just felt overwhelmingly relieved. That he was safe and at home and taken care of and being loved by Jason.
"Oh— Oh babe." Jason shifted and wiped at the tears on Tim's face. "You okay?" He petted over Tim's hair.
Tim nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, not— bad I don't think. Just…a lot of emotions to finally let out."
Jason made small soothing noises and continued to pet over his hair as Tim buried his face against Jason's throat.
"Thank you," Tim choked out, after a minute. "For loving me."
"Oh, honey, of course. That's not something to thank me for." He kissed the top of Tim's head. "You deserve all the love I can give you and more."
After a few minutes, Tim cried himself out, and then just laid there for a bit, slowly breathing against Jason.
"How many missed calls d'you think you have from Bruce by now?" He asked, pulling back a little to wipe the tears from his face. He felt…he felt okay now. He was okay. It was okay. "One of them had to've found that scene."
"Don't know, don't care. Turned my phone off soon as we got home."
Tim gave a small laugh.
"You're not, um… Do you…disapprove of what I did? Are you upset if some of them are dead?"
"Well are they? I was kind of facing the other direction."
"I don't…know. I. I sort of…slipped. A little. I— It was everything I was worried about, I just saw green, and I didn't care if they died. I was aiming non-fatally still, but I really…I couldn't have given less of a fuck if they moved wrong and got a bullet in the brain. I didn't really care if Dreson bled out either — kind of wanted him to, just didn't want to hear Bruce bitch about it. So yeah, I didn't care, and I don't know if I killed some of them straight out, or if any of them died from shock or blood loss when I decided to just leave 'em, and quite honestly, they might have."
"Oh, Jay, Jay." Tim smiled at him and gave him a kiss. "You did great. Listen to what you're saying. Even though you felt like you weren't in control, you were still aiming non-fatally — I don't care what you were thinking or feeling about it, you can't control that, but your actions matter. You still weren't trying to kill Dreson. I take it that was the guy in charge? He had a whole villain monologue, but it wasn't very heavy on the identity.”
Jason nodded in confirmation.
"And," Tim said, "even though part of you wanted him to die, part of you didn't. Even if it was for a reason like not wanting to hear Bruce bitch, the fact that it still holds weight, that it still has significance to you matters! And darling," he placed his hand on Jason's cheek, "you still loved me. You didn't want to hurt me, you still cared about me, you still wanted to keep me safe. You're still yourself, even if you slip. You're still you, and it didnt send you back to square one at all — you've got just so much more control now, if even when you felt like you weren't at the wheel, you were still pretty much following what you've taught yourself to anyway."
"I…guess," Jason said hesitantly. There was a long pause, before he finally said, "It's just scary to think I'm not in control, that I don't know what I'll do. And what if— what if I just got lucky this time? What if it was just the specific situation? I don't know. I just don't know, I have no way of knowing how it works."
Tim kissed him again softly. "Well you know what I believe, and I will be right here with you. I love you, I love you more than anything, and I believe in you. You've worked so hard, still work so hard, and it pays, it matters."
"I…okay," Jason said weakly.
"Someday you're gonna believe me, you know. Easy as breathing."
Jason pressed a kiss under his eye. "I love you. I love you so much."
"Mhm. You're the moon to my stars, the fish to my sea, the…apple to my bees."
Jason started laughing. "God, I can't believe I didn't have to fight people off for you; the world is full of crazies."
"Hmm, sweet but you're definitely the odd one out."
"As I said: crazies."
Tim laughed too. "I feel the same about you. People don't know what they're missing. But that's okay, at least I don't have to handle any competition."
"Oh, there'd never be any competition, baby. I don't care who it is, they don't have a chance in hell."
Tim smiled and kissed him, before closing his eyes and settling in to attempt sleep despite the pain. "Same."