Chapter Text
Jason very literally aches from head to toe–from his likely concussion to his broken toe and everything in between, including the cracked ribs, sprained wrist, and the deep puncture wound in his right shoulder.
He needs proper medical attention, probably. Definitely.
All he can really muster up the energy to do is collapse on his couch with a couple of ice packs.
After that, he either dozes off or passes out. Hard to say, really. Whichever one it is, he misses Tim’s arrival. He has no idea he’s not alone until a thump startles him back into awareness.
It takes a few panicky seconds to connect the sound to Tim, who’s kneeling next to the couch and staring at him in horror, and then a few more to figure that thump was Tim’s knees hitting the floor.
And he’s definitely got a concussion, because it’s not until after he’s slurred out a worried, “What’s wrong?” that he realizes the horror on Tim’s face is for him.
“Jason,” Tim says, shocked. He cups Jason’s face carefully, fingers soft against the bruises blooming across his cheek and jaw. “What happened?”
There’s a smart answer on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t have the energy for snark. “Lost a fight.”
Tim’s hand ghosts over his shoulder, gently feeling the edges of the bandage, and then skips down to hover over his ribs. Sitting up to look would be fucking agony, but Jason knows his whole ribcage must be covered in developing bruises.
“Jason,” Tim says again. His hand returns to the bandage. “Do you need Leslie?”
Jason starts to shake his head, but luckily controls the impulse before it can do more than ache in warning. Kinda feels like if he moves it too much, it’ll fall right off.
“Nah,” he says instead. “He wasn’t trying to kill me, just make me suffer.”
Tim makes a hurt little sound. “Who did this to you?”
There’s an undertone to it, something angry and dangerous beneath the sweet concern. That’s Red Robin there, lurking in the back of Tim’s gaze and promising vengeance.
Jason knows it won’t last, of course. That’s why he draws it out, why he waits a long minute to answer. He wants to enjoy the clear rage on his behalf before it becomes disappointment.
“Jason?” Tim prompts eventually.
Jason takes one last second to savor Tim’s worry and anger. Then he sighs and admits, “Bruce.”
The answer shocks Tim’s face into blankness. His careful hands spasm, freezing in the middle of their subtle injury check.
“What,” he says flatly.
“Bruce,” Jason repeats. He tries to make it defiant, but thinks he only manages tired. His head is throbbing. “We had another little disagreement about my methods.”
Tim’s jaw ticks. “Did you.”
It’s not a question, but the request for more information is implied. Jason thinks about telling him–about recounting the entire, fuck awful night–but ends up looking away instead.
In the morning, he’ll be able to summon up his usual fury and indignation over Bruce’s fucking nerve, the way he dares to think he can dictate how everyone else in Gotham works–the way he acts like he owns the city and outranks every vigilante in it by default.
Right now? Right now every inch of him aches. He can feel his heartbeat in his shoulder, pulsing in the puncture wound the batarang left. All he can feel is exhaustion.
However much of what Jason’s feeling Tim reads on his face, it makes him sit back on his heels. He takes a slow, deep breath.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll be back in a little while, okay? You need anything while I’m out?”
Jason’s eyes snap back to his. He was expecting either a lecture or Tim storming off, not a casual little goodbye like Tim’s planning to go get groceries.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
Tim pushes to his feet, bracing one hand against the back of the couch as he leans in to press a sweet, careful kiss to Jason’s mouth.
“To find Bruce,” he says.
Jason’s heart misses a beat. “Tim–”
Tim’s next kiss lands on his forehead in such a tender gesture that it steals the words right out of Jason’s mouth.
“I’ll be back,” he promises. “I just need to talk to him, okay?”
To find out what Jason did that was so bad it earned this? To find out if Bruce is still okay with them dating, in light of his latest tantrum?
“About what?” Jason asks, dreading the answer.
Tim’s mouth thins. His eyes blaze.
“His fucking methods.”