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Tim was dozing off. It was evening, and he had been lying on his stomach on top of Jason on the sofa, aimlessly scrolling Twitter while Jason was looking at his own phone over his shoulder, but Jason's warmth and the hand running soothingly up and down over his waist, just shy of most of his injuries, had lulled him increasingly toward sleep.
Of course, that was when there was a knock on the door.
"Hey!" Came Stephanie's voice. "Stop fucking, we wanna have a game night! I texted you like half an hour ago."
Tim groaned quietly, and then tossed a, "Not fucking!" toward the door, before burying his face deeper in the crook of Jason's neck.
He probably should have expected this, though. It was bat tradition not to leave someone alone the day after getting tortured. Maybe none of them were the greatest at coping and they all needed therapy, but they could at least be there for each other through the worst of it.
Honestly, though…part of Tim had been kind of afraid that they'd think his torture didn't matter, or didn't actually count or something, because he was a masochist. He hadn't let himself expect company, hadn't wanted to be disappointed.
But it was…nice. They were obnoxious, but it was nice to have his torture feel a little more validated. He'd just…he'd kept thinking of what Damian had said all those years ago, when everyone had found out about him and Jason, and that he was into pain. That Tim should be the one to get tortured instead. Because he liked it. And Tim just kept going back and forth in his head on whether it was just an offhanded comment that was supposed to be funny, or whether Damian really thought that, really didn't understand the difference.
But, it seemed like at least Stephanie did, and whoever she'd brought with her, and that was…a bigger relief than Tim had anticipated.
Jason's hand slid down to his hip and pushed at him gently.
"Then come get the fucking door!" Stephanie shot back.
"Let me up, sweetheart," Jason said quietly, pushing at him again.
Tim groaned again, but rolled over against the back of the couch, ignoring the screaming in his back.
"Jeez, baby, be careful with yourself." Jason slid out from under him and gently pulled him back onto his stomach.
Tim turned his head and blinked groggily up at Jason as he walked away to get the door and— oh fuck, Jason was still wearing his fucking collar. When it was just the two of them, there was no reason not to just wear it sometimes, but—
"Darling." Jason didn't turn. "Darling!" Nope. "Jason, don't open the fucking door!"
Well that got him to stop and look back at Tim at least.
Tim made a face and indicated his own neck, and Jason's brow creased in confusion.
"What…?" His hand came up to touch his neck, and his eyes went wide as his fingers met leather. "Oh." He quickly reached back to undo it. "Fuck. Thanks, baby." He tossed the collar to Tim. "Can you put it away for me?"
"Mhm."
Tim hauled his aching body up to take the collar to the kitchen to hide it away in the sex cabinet (storage space was storage space, and Tim would die on that hill), and Jason turned to finally let their visitors in.
"What was that about?" Duke asked as he stepped inside.
Stephanie made a face, clearly having a general idea that she at least didn't want to actually find out.
"I'm sure we don't want to know," Damian said dryly from the back, his arms crossed. He didn't look like he wanted to be there at all, and if Jason had to guess, they probably all dragged him along.
"How is Tim?" Cass was the only one to ask.
"Okay now mostly, I think." Jason refrained from commenting on the rest as he stepped forward and shut the door behind the four of them.
"Nope—" Duke clenched his eyes shut from where he'd been staring at the spot where Jason had been standing, and covered them with his hand for good measure. "God— dammit. Why did I look?"
"What?" Jason turned around, vaguely alarmed that he may still somehow be giving away the whole collar thing. It hadn't been tight enough to mark, had it?
Duke made a miserable sound. "I can see more than you. I shouldn't, I absolutely should not, I should know better than to look around you two."
Oh. Right. Metahuman struggles. A gift and a curse to be able to look back in time a bit — yeah, Jason was good sticking with the whole normal human thing. (Or, well, did he still count as a 'normal human' after the Lazarus Pit, with all the little — and not so little — side effects it came with? He preferred to think of himself that way, but…probably not. Not entirely, at least.)
"Yeah, you should if you're gonna be a little bitch about it," Jason agreed. Nosey ass. Then again, they all were. Probably Bruce's fault or something — like most things, as far as Jason was concerned.
Duke dropped his hand to shoot him a bitchface.
"You guys want coffee?" Tim called from the kitchen in an attempt to both play host and hopefully distract from the whole collar thing.
There was a resounding yes (and a flat, 'Tea.' from Damian), so he switched on the electric kettle to make Jason some tea, and started the coffeemaker before scooping some loose leaf jasmine into a tea infuser and setting it in Jason's mug. And then grudgingly threw an unlabelled tea bag from the depths of the cupboard in a mug for Damian too.
As soon as the water started to simmer, Tim turned the kettle off and opened the lid, letting it cool for a minute before pouring it into the mugs. He glanced at the clock on the stove, and leaned back against the counter to wait exactly four minutes.
Damian was probably going to bitch about his tea being weak, because Tim was like eighty five per cent sure that was Earl Grey (hence it being unused because that shit sucked ass, and the only ones who didn't think so were Alfred, and Bruce — due to being indoctrinated into Alfred's disgusting ways at an early age. It was truly a tragedy), but Tim was only willing to put in the effort for Jason. Not so much the little demon who exacerbated his fucking torture, which Tim definitely had not forgotten, thank you very much.
But he was plenty happy to put in the work for Jason. Was making tea for him a stupidly complicated process? Yes. But Tim liked it, because he loved that he knew how to make it just how Jason liked it, and he loved that Jason said he was the only one besides Alfred who always made a perfect cup of tea. Not, uh, that Tim had done a lot of research and experimentation, and sneaked sips of Jason's tea to see how strong he liked it, and memorised tea types and the proper water temperatures for each, and how quickly water cooled from boiling or simmering. Or anything like that. No, Tim had just...made Jason a very nice cup of tea a couple months after he'd realised they'd started dating at some point, and it had totally just been...natural...talent. And totally his first attempt. Yes. Nothing important about that cup of tea or anything, just a random thoughtless thing he decided to do, spur of the moment haha.
In all honesty, Tim had no idea whether Jason was onto him or not — or maybe whether he'd known from the very beginning — but Jason appreciated it, and that was really what mattered.
He listened to the chatter from the other room as he waited, and eventually the coffeemaker had rumbled to a stop and the four minutes was up. Tim plucked the infuser out of Jason's mug by the end of the chain and set it in the sink to deal with later, and in a moment of charity decided he would leave Damian his tea bag. It still would be weak, because the water definitely hadn't been hot enough, but that wasn't Tim's problem at all, that definitely sounded like a personal issue. He hooked a finger through each handle of four empty mugs from the cupboard with one hand and grabbed the coffee pot with the other before heading into the living room.
Jason glanced over at him, and then helpfully set out coasters. The five of them looked to be setting up some sort of card game, and were seated on the floor around the coffee table.
"You wanna be dealt in?" Stephanie asked him.
"I'm good," he said. And then, to Jason, "Thanks," setting the coffee pot on the coaster at the corner of the table and leaning over to give him a peck on the lips before setting down the mugs on the edge of the table for the rest of them to distribute amongst themselves and heading back to the kitchen.
He grabbed a handful of spoons, tucked the milk and the sugar jar into one arm, and finally grabbed Jason's tea, and then looked at Damian's mug. Well he only had two hands, and he wasn't going to make another trip just for that — it wasn't his fault life was just handing him opportunities here.
He headed back to the living room, and Duke kindly took the milk and sugar with thanks from Tim. Tim set down the spoons to pass around and then looked at Damian. "Your tea's on the counter."
Damian glowered at him. "You're not serious."
"Do you want your tea or not? Your legs work." He sat himself on the couch behind Jason, who was down on the floor with the rest of them, and reached around him to set his tea on the empty coaster in front of him, next to a coffee he'd apparently already poured for Tim.
"Fucking asshole," Damian muttered, as he got up to go retrieve his tea.
Tim ignored him. "Hello darling," he said to Jason. His ass and especially his back burned, intense and bright, as his injuries shifted and stretched as he bent down to kiss Jason's temple, but he ignored it and smiled, stretching his legs out to either side of Jason and skimming his nose down the side of his face. "Nice aftershave," he added lowly, with a teasing smirk.
It was very nice aftershave, but it had taken quite a bit of convincing to get Jason to actually wear it after Tim had gifted it to him. Not because he didn't like it, but because fuck, the price, that just seemed wrong — no simple toiletry should be that expensive, and certainly none of Jason's.
Jason gave an annoyed huff, but it was more for the drama than actual annoyance. "Yeah, we get it, I'm your kept little spoiled trophy wife."
Tim snickered and pressed a kiss to Jason's jaw, and one corner of Jason's mouth turned up just the tiniest bit.
Damian wrinkled his nose at them as he sat back down with his tea, but Tim studiously ignored him, sliding his hands around Jason's waist and slipping them smoothly into his pockets as he settled his chin on Jason's shoulder to watch the game.
"You okay, baby?" Jason asked him, probably internally fretting way too much — in Tim's personal opinion — about the way he was sitting and treating his injuries.
"I'm fine. Ooh, interesting hand," he commentated as Jason picked his cards up.
He caught Stephanie staring at them with raised brows as she stirred her coffee, but Damian was the one to ask.
"'Kept little spoiled trophy wife'?" He asked dubiously.
Tim slid his right hand a little further into Jason's pocket until it was snug up against the side of Jason's cock through the two thin layers of cloth. "He gets tetchy about expensive gifts," he responded before Jason could, and then slid his fingers down until he felt the crown. Then slowly, just ever so slightly, he started to rock the tips of his fingers against the head of Jason's cock the way Jason had said he liked, not trying to turn him on, just enough to feel...nice. "Drama queen," he added, affectionately, turning his head to look at Jason and smiling.
"Oh, so Jay's a sugar baby now," Stephanie said, without a doubt purely with the intention to antagonise him. "Oh how the turntables. We thought it was you who was in charge, but really it was Tim all along."
Jason glared at her. "Call me a sugar baby again and I'm taking a fucking kneecap," he said, just as Tim laughed out, "It has been me in charge all along."
"What?" Duke looked genuinely thrown.
"Did you seriously not know that?" Tim asked. "Or you couldn't guess that?"
"Why would I guess that?" Duke's voice went high. "Isn't the point of a dom that they're...a dom?"
Tim squinted at him. "Yeah, that doesn't mean he's in charge."
"How?"
"How does it?" Tim asked right back, sounding just as frustrated as Duke.
"Because he's the one making you do shit! And doing shit to you!"
"So?"
Duke threw his hands out in a frustrated what? "So how the fuck is that not in charge?!"
"Uh, because who do you think chooses the things I want done to me? Me consensually manipulating him into doing exactly what I want is a huge fucking part of it! The person with the safeword calls the shots, it goes by their limits, and that's me ninety nine per cent of the time! I am in charge."
There was a short silence, before Stephanie broke it.
"Huh. Well I guess that makes sense, we all knew Jay was whipped."
"He's not," Tim snapped.
Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Please. I've never seen someone more whipped."
"No, I think you just don't understand the difference between love and subservience." Tim's voice was hard. "He's not my puppet, and I hate that you all pretend he is. He would do a lot for me, but he would not just do anything I say, and he especially does not do everything unquestioningly. He tells me 'no' plenty, which you all seem convinced he's incapable of.
"But you know what, actually, that shouldn't even be the question, because our relationship isn't transactional; it's not about asking each other permission to do everything. It's just checking in on each others' comfort levels, and wanting to do things for and give things to each other, because we care about each other! I don't understand why our relationship seems like such an uninterpretable mystery to all of you, when it's so fucking simple! He's not my puppet, and I'm not his, and neither of us is whipped, so maybe stop talking about our fucking relationship at all if you're going to continue to refuse the most basic understanding of it."
There was silence for a few moments, and Jason ran a soothing hand up and down over Tim's upper arm, before Cass finally broke it by simply saying, "Okay."
All eyes turned to her, and she shrugged. "Makes sense." Then she laid down a card. "I'm starting."
As they started up the game, Tim's fingers resumed their steady rocking against Jason's cock, which had paused during his heated ranting, and he felt Jason relax slightly back against him.
It took less than ten minutes to be accused of cheating five separate times with Tim right there to offer Jason help, and despite everything that still lingered from last night, Tim found himself having fun.
After four rounds, however, Damian looked at his phone.
"We need to leave for patrol."
Stephanie checked her own phone. "We have time for another round."
Damian scowled. "Signal already left off early, and now we're all going out late? That's a bad idea."
"Oh come on." Stephanie rolled her eyes. "It's one round. The city's not gonna fall apart. Besides, Batman and Oracle are working."
Damian crossed his arms. "Why do we need to? This whole thing is ridiculous."
"Tradition," Cass told him firmly. "Support."
"Maybe for other people," Damian rebutted stubbornly, "but if anything I'm sure Drake saw it as a bonus — he's not exactly in need of support for that."
Stephanie and Duke both snorted.
"Okay," Stephanie allowed, "but it's still tradition."
Tim felt a heavy knot in the pit of his stomach. Right. Of course. Of course they hadn't actually believed—
He got up abruptly, pulling away from Jason and ignoring the screaming in his back and ass and thighs, just needing to get away.
"Baby—" Jason called after him, but the bedroom door closed firmly, slightly harder than necessary, closing Tim off from the rest of them.
Jason turned back to the rest of the table, his eyes looking dangerous. "Fuck you," he spat. "What the fuck is going on in your little pea brains that you can't see the fucking difference between consensual pain in a sexual context from someone he's attracted to, who he knows cares about him, versus literal fucking torture from someone who wants to break him — and how one of those could be very good, and one of those could be very, very bad. Are you fucking stupid? Do you really think it's any fucking different than anybody else getting tortured? Do you think he doesn't feel the pain? Because, I assure you, he does. Is it still funny?"
He pointed between Damian and Stephanie, narrowing his eyes and leaning toward them, because fuck if he was gonna just let go of what Tim had finally told him earlier about exactly what had happened. "And you two! You two and your big fucking mouths. The person who took him was looking for information on Red Robin, and somebody overheard a little conversation between the two of you about him being into pain. And what do you know, our little torturer was just delighted by the fact that he could be as brutal as he wanted and still rest assured that Tim wasn't going to pass out or go into shock. So thank you for that," he said, bitterly sarcastic. "Maybe that's a refresher in the discretion I know we've all had drilled into us."
Stephanie looked pale. "I'm sorry."
"Tell him that, and do it some other fucking time," Jason snapped, and then got to his feet. "Now all of you get out."
They all started to get up and head for the door, but—
"Cass," Jason called, stopping her before she could leave.
She turned back, and he waved her back over.
"I wasn't talking to you," he said, as she approached. "You're the only one who hasn't been an asshole." He gave an awkward pause. "So thanks."
She watched him for a moment and then nodded. "Tell Tim 'feel better'." And then she turned away again and left after the others.
Jason went over to lock the door behind them, and then ventured into the bedroom, where he found Tim in his Red Robin suit, lying on his stomach on the bed, booted feet hanging off the end.
Jason sat next to him stroking a hand over his hair. "Hey baby," he said quietly.
Tim made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement.
"I think I made them understand what idiots they are, but I told them to go away and talk to you later."
"I know, I could hear." Tim inched his head over to bury his face against the side of Jason's thigh. "Thanks," he mumbled into it.
"Of course, sweetheart." Jason reached back for Tim's hand and brought it up toward himself, pressing a kiss to Tim's palm before he intertwined their fingers and pressed another kiss to the back of his hand.
The seconds stretched out as they rested there quietly, until Tim finally said, "We should get goin' for patrol."
Jason made a small noncommittal noise. "Maybe you should take the night off and take it easy, baby. You got a lot your body needs to heal from."
Tim hummed in vague acknowledgment, and then tugged his hand out of Jason's, pushing himself up, and getting up off the bed. He tilted Jason's face toward him with a finger under his chin, and leaned down to give him a kiss.
"I will if you make me," he said, already stepping back out of Jason's reach. He put his mask on and gave Jason a coy smile. "Maybe Red Hood should teach me a lesson."
And then he was off across the room, shoving open the window and grappling up to the rooftop, leaving the blackout curtains to flutter behind him in the light breeze.
Jason sighed.
Well, nothing for it then. If a little chase across the city, a little roleplay, and a rough fuck in some back alleyway was what it took to keep Tim from staying out all night patrolling with his whole back side all fucked to hell…that was what it would be.
He got up and quickly got into his uniform, sliding a packet of lube and a plug into one of his pockets, and then emptying one of his usual guns, and double-checking that the chamber was empty as well, before sliding it into his thigh holster and locking the bullets back in the safe. Then he followed Tim out the window.
Now…which way did that little sneak go?
Jason scanned over the rooftops slowly… There. Tim was lurking, mostly in the shadows and partially concealed, behind the corner of a tall brick chimney a few blocks away, and without the tech in Jason's helmet he'd hardly have stood a chance in hell of spotting him. What a little sneak.
Jason headed straight for him.
He saw Tim smile, before he turned and ran, leaping onto the next rooftop.
Jason leapt as well, still several rooftops behind him, but the chase was on now, and he'd be damned if he didn't catch up. That goddamn Pit, for all its drawbacks, at least had its uses too, and Tim was fast for a human, but Jason's little dunk meant he toed the line between human and meta.
Tim shot off his grappling line and swung across the street with a laugh, and Jason immediately followed.
It took ten blocks, and Tim abruptly crossing the street thrice more, before Jason finally made it onto the same rooftop as him.
Tim glanced back, and then jumped onto the next rooftop, and Jason was gaining on him more quickly now, but once he reached the edge, instead of jumping over to the next, he scampered down the fire escape.
Jason grinned and sprinted to the edge of the roof, shooting out his grappling line, and grappling down into the alley just as Tim reached the bottom of the fire escape. He released the line, and grabbed Tim, pushing him up against the brick wall by the back of the neck, and then sliding his fingers around his throat, crowding up behind him and attempting not to rub or press too hard against his injuries.
"You're a difficult little shit to catch, Red Robin," he panted, still trying to catch his breath. "And you—" his fingers tightened slightly around Tim's throat, and he freed himself of his helmet with his other hand, dropping it carelessly to the ground "—still have a little lesson to learn about listening to your betters."
"Oh fuck," Tim gasped, obviously trying to catch his breath as well.
Jason took the empty gun out of its holster and pressed the barrel under Tim's chin. "So what's it gonna take to get you to stand here and take it? What am I gonna have to do to make sure you learn your fucking place?"
Tim gave a helpless little moan, and Jason let out a small, cruel laugh.
"Oh," he tilted Tim's chin up toward him with the barrel of the gun, "are you getting off on this? Do you want the big, bad Red Hood to fuck you? You like knowing what a used little bitch you are?"
Tim moaned again. "Yes." Then he let out a gasp as Jason shoved the gun back in its holster and abruptly yanked Tim's suit bottoms and underwear down almost to his knees, kicking the inside of one of his feet and making him momentarily feel a slight loss of balance as they slid a little further apart.
"Spread your legs, slut. That's all you're good for, isn't it, so I'm sure you can at least do that."
"Holy shit." Jason was pretty sure if he could see them behind the lenses in his mask, there would be stars in Tim's eyes.
He fisted his hand in Tim's hair and yanked his head back from the wall. "Did I ask you to talk? I told you to spread your fucking legs. Slut." He said slowly and deliberately.
Tim spread his legs.
Jason let go of him to quickly pull off his glove and shove it in his pocket, pulling out the packet of lube and tearing it open. He lubed up two fingers and shoved them into Tim without warning or ceremony.
Tim made a small noise, and then pushed his ass back against them as Jason started to prep him quickly and roughly.
"Look at you," Jason said. "Red Robin, just another back alley whore. Such a dirty little slut, you'll let yourself get bent over by the first person who comes around and roughs you up, won't you?"
Tim groaned, his upper body slumping against the wall and his hands braced flat against it.
"I said won't you, naughty little birdie?"
"Yes," Tim breathed.
"Say it. Tell me."
"Fuck."
"That's not what I asked." Jason curled his fingers against Tim's prostate, pressing relentlessly, and Tim let out a startled, gasping moan, his hips hitching of their own accord.
"I'm a dirty slut!" He choked out, louder than he'd really meant to in his desperation. Then he let out a groan. "Please fuck me."
Jason yanked the fingers out of his ass to grab his hair brutally, yanking his head back and slapping him hard in the face with his other hand. "You still don't know your fucking place, do you? It's not up to you when I fuck you. I make the decisions; you just stand there and take whatever I fucking give you like a good little whore."
Tim nodded the tiny amount he could with his head pulled back. "Yes."
Despite his words, however, when Jason let go, he unzipped his pants and slicked up his cock, before taking a small step back, and pulling Tim's hip so he stepped back with him.
"Bend down," he ordered, and then tangled his hand in Tim's hair again to push his cheek back against the rough brick as he guided his cock with his other hand, pressing into Tim and then snapping his hips forward hard.
Tim made a high pitched noise, his hands scrabbling against the bricks.
"Yeah, you like it rough, don't you, filthy cockslut," Jason said, as he started to fuck him hard and steady.
Tim whimpered. And then, barely words, more like just little breaths (and honestly Jason wasn't sure whether it was actually agreement or just mindless chanting), "Yeah— yeah— yeah—"
Tim was rocking back to meet his thrusts, and Jason just hoped the movement wasn't agitating his injuries more. Being bent over wasn't great, but he wasn't bent much, and it was probably better than rubbing up against Jason. Jason should probably try to hurry this whole thing up; it wasn't that this wasn't hot in its own way, but he was stressed about hurting Tim more and Tim seemed to have no regard for his own wellbeing. Plus, well, they were in public, and it was never the brightest idea to draw out a public fuck unnecessarily.
After maybe five or ten minutes, Jason wrapped his fingers around Tim's throat again, but hardly pressed.
"Are you gonna come? Come all over yourself from being used like the cheap whore you are?" He tightened his fingers, starting to choke him. "Doesn't get any cheaper than free and desperate," he hissed.
Tim gave a strangled moan and came over the grimy brick. He wiped one gloved hand over his uniform top to get rid of any grit from the wall, and then dropped his hand down to stroke himself through the aftershocks.
"That's right, look at that." Jason eased the pressure on his throat but left his hand wrapped around it. "Gonna breed you. That's exactly what you want, isn't it, you little comeslut? Wanna be a used up, filthy little mess, don't you."
Tim groaned and pushed back against him harder. "Yes, god yes. Use me. Breed me. Own me."
"Mm, that's right, I own you." Jason snapped his hips forward a final time, and came inside Tim with a gasp and a small, "Fuck."
Tim gave a satisfied hum.
And then, after a few moments, clearly joking but utterly incomprehensible: "Do you want a receipt?"
Jason laughed. "What?"
"Am I a good enough dirty whore? You like owning me, or do you wanna return me?" Tim teased.
Jason smiled and slid one hand around Tim's stomach, tangling the other in his hair to pull him completely upright, and tilting both Tim's head and his own to give him a slow, deep kiss.
"Yes, baby." He kissed him again. "The best dirty whore."
Tim gave a small laugh against him as he kissed him again, longer this time, and reached his hand back to cup Jason's cheek.
"My favorite dirty whore," Jason murmured, as they pulled apart slightly.
Tim huffed out an amused breath and gave him a soft, brief kiss. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you too, baby." Jason slid his ungloved hand under Tim's uniform top and stroked his thumb back and forth over the bare skin of his stomach. "C'mon, let's get you home."
Jason pulled back and took the plug out of his pocket, carefully lubing it up, and pressing a kiss to the back of Tim's neck as he pulled out and pushed the plug in.
He zipped himself up, and helped Tim get his suit bottoms back up, trying to be conscious of his injuries.
Tim turned around and pulled him down for another kiss. "Thanks."
"Mhm." Jason petted lightly over Tim's sides as he kissed him again.
After a few moments, Tim finally pulled away. "'Kay, let's go home."
Jason gave him a last peck. "'Kay baby." The he let him go and stepped back a little, but grabbed hold of his hand. "Let's just take the street." There was really no need to put the added strain on Tim's injuries (and body in general, when it should be healing) with all the swinging and leaping, when they could just walk.
Tim sighed, but acquiesced. "Fine."
He swung their hands between them as they made their way back home in amicable silence, just the passing cars and the ambient noise of the city at night keeping them company.
When they got back into their flat, they headed straight to the shower, both still tacky with dried sweat.
"I love you," Tim murmured again, leaning against Jason's chest, once they got under the warm spray.
Jason pressed a kiss to the top of Tim's head, and then reached for the soap.
"My sweet little freak," he said, lips pressed against Tim's forehead as he started to carefully slide soapy hands over Tim's injured back. "I love you too. You're perfect. Perfect for me."
Tim's back muscles twitched as the soap stung his wounds, but he let out a contented hum at Jason's sweet words, eyes closed.
Slowly, they got completely cleaned up, taking out and washing off the plug too and leaving it on the side of the tub before getting out and drying off. Jason redressed the injuries on Tim's back, before leading him to the bedroom to cover the less severe ones from the belt with vaseline and get into sleep clothes so they could cuddle.
Jason hoped this was enough. And he hoped that Tim had only felt the need to go out tonight because of what had happened with the others earlier, and that he was feeling better about it now and wouldn't keep pushing himself.
"You feelin' better now, baby?" Jason asked.
Tim snuggled up against him and slid an arm around him. "You always make me feel a million times better." He yawned. "'Sides. You always go to bat for me. I'm sure they'll apologise tomorrow. Even the stubborn little demon. You bitched 'em out good enough."
Jason gave a small snort. "They better." He pressed a kiss to Tim's forehead.
Tim let out a contented sigh, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips. "Night."
Jason just guessed they'd have to see.
"Night, baby."