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Jason stands in front of his bathroom mirror, turning this way and that to make sure he managed to catch any stray threads or fuzzies with his lint brush. A lint brush he never even owned until Tim bought the charcoal gray pinstripe suit for him last year but whatever. His entire life has been turned upside down in the year since he and Tim Drake-Wayne started dating and, for the most part, he wouldn’t change a thing.
He can’t help but preen slightly. The new vest Kori got him for his birthday looks fantastic against the dark red dress shirt and the slacks.
What can I say? I’ve always cleaned up pretty.
It irks Tim to no end that Jason can almost literally roll out of bed, throw on anything, and look ready for a photoshoot. Not that he goes to those but it still makes him grin whenever his boyfriend complains about it. His usual response is to get more sleep so that he isn’t as caffeine dependent.
Tim’s affronted look is always worth it.
Jason straightens his tie one last time. He’s as good as he’s going to get.
Exiting the bathroom, he resists the urge to flop down on his sofa while he waits for Tim to arrive and paces instead. He should be here to pick him up any minute now.
Tonight, they’re celebrating their one year anniversary.
It should make him nervous, but he’s not. Far from it. For once in his life, he’s in a relationship that makes sense. Tim is more than his boyfriend, more than his lover. He’s his partner in the truest sense of the word. The yin to his yang, the rose to his thorn (although Tim could be particularly thorny when he’s grumpy or pissed off), the fried pickle to his spicy garlic aioli.
I know there’s a massive amount of money on one of us proposing tonight. It ain’t gonna be me, but if Tim does, fuck if that’s not the cheesiest thing ever. He won’t though. He likes bucking expectations as much as I do.
Tonight is supposed to be simple. Easy. A dress up date because they rarely do things like this. Dinner and a show. Tim picked the restaurant while Jason chose the show. The Gotham Symphony Orchestra is doing some kind of homage to movies with classic music scores. He’d been on the fence about it until he read they were covering Star Wars.
Sold.
He checks his phone for the fifth time. The damn thing is now almost as attached to him as Tim is to his. Joys of technology.
Fuck it, he’ll head down to the bar while he waits. He grabs his suit jacket and locks up behind him.
It’s a slow Wednesday night. Colin is covering for him, more than happy to pick up the extra shift. He looks up from his textbook as Jason enters but doesn’t try to hide it. The college student learned long ago that he doesn’t care if he reads on the job if things are slower than hell.
He does so who is he to judge?
“Lookin’ sharp, boss!” Colin says with a big grin. “You better be gettin’ lucky tonight.”
Jason snorts as he takes a seat at the bar. The kid (who’s really only about seven years younger than him but damn that feels like a lifetime) fit right in with his coterie of redheaded employees. For Halloween, he and Steph are thinking about dying their hair to match.
“I know I’m lucky,” he replies. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I get to wake up next to that man.”
Colin’s grin grows wistful. “I can’t wait until I meet someone like that.”
Jason shrugs. “It always seems to happen when you least expect it. Kori and Roy were the same way.” He eyes the wall behind the bar thoughtfully. Roy would have been pouring him a shot of vodka already but that’s because he’s his best friend. Colin is his employee even though he’s starting to become a friend.
Before he can tell him to pour him a shot, his phone finally chimes.
I’m outside.
Cue the butterflies.
Fuck. Why the hell is he suddenly nervous? It’s Tim. Tim, the little shit who’s taken over half his closet, most of his DVR, and has a cabinet full of gourmet coffee in his kitchen. Tim, the reason why he even owns a suit this fucking nice in the first place.
Shit. What if he does ask me to marry him? What the hell am I gonna say? Are we ready for that? Fuck, am I?
Some of his inner panic must be showing because Colin is staring at him in concern. “It’s just Tim,” he says, huffing a small laugh as he does. “That’s what you guys always told me when I freaked out over him.”
The redhead’s obvious celebrity crush on Tim had been fucking hilarious. He learned fast though. Seeing the complete and utter disaster said crush is when he’s sleep deprived and in search of coffee cured that fast. A hot mess doesn’t even begin to describe it. Jason is almost positive the entire incident was an accident, but he knows how devious his boyfriend can be.
“Yeah.” He sighs and takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. “It’s just Tim.”
*****
Dinner is absolutely magnificent. Jason wants to cry happy tears of joy at each delicious morsel that passes his lips, but he’s not wearing waterproof eyeliner, so he settles for what are probably obscene moans. At least he’s keeping them quiet.
Mostly.
Tim looks entirely bemused by his antics. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” he teases, casually swirling his wine glass. The rich red wine has been perfectly paired with this particular course.
Hell, each course on the tasting menu has had their own special wine pairings. Jason finally understands why sommeliers exist. It’s not just some pretentious bullshit like he always thought. “With a meal like this, you can take me wherever the hell you want,” he replies with a wink.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tim says dryly.
“How’d you find this place?” Jason asks.
Pretty sure that if I were to try and make a reservation under my name, the wait list would be months long. Tim’s name, he’d be here that same night.
“The pastry chef here apprenticed under Alfred for about a year.”
That would do it too. Jason bites back his impulse to whistle. He does have some manners, many of which have improved by process of osmosis from the man seated across from him over the last several months. Another thought occurs to him. “Doesn’t that mean that Alfred is some kind of pastry master?”
Tim smirks. “It does.”
“I knew I loved his lemon bars for a reason.”
That garners a laugh, the first real one of the night. Tim has been oddly quiet throughout the evening, from the drive across town and most of dinner. He still laughs and comments at the appropriate times, but he lapses into silence and just watches Jason. It’s unsettling and, as a result, has him trying to fill the gaps with awkward small talk rather than their more common comfortable silences.
Inwardly, he sighs and wonders yet again what’s bothering him.
I should probably be an adult about it and ask. Whatever it is, he’s trying to brush it aside. Like that’s ever worked well for him, but look who his parental figure is. At least Bruce has had the good sense to never get married.
The dessert portion of the menu arrives and Jason is forced to reevaluate everything he also ever thought about pastry chefs. “This takes some serious fucking skill,” he says in admiration, eyeing the delicate gold cage of what is apparently spun sugar over what he’s positive will be something delicious. He made the mistake of not listening to the server as she explained what it was, too entranced with the plate as he was.
It’s tempting to take a picture to send it to Kori, but he doesn’t want to embarrass Tim by being that person. The tabloids already comment on the two of them enough, no need to add fuel to the fire about how unsuitable he is for a Wayne heir. He already knows this, he doesn’t need them shouting it from the rooftops.
Tim shrugs and cracks the cage over his dessert with his spoon, not even pausing to admire it. Heathen, but more likely, it’s something he accepts as normal. Jason can’t help but frown at that. Yet another fucking thing that rubs our class differences in my face. And, what’s even worse is that he’s not even aware he’s doing it.
Some of his frustration must finally be seeping through as Tim gives him a concerned look. “Are you alright?”
Jason huffs a sigh and returns his gaze with a pointed one of his own. “I feel like I should be asking you that question. Here I am getting off on my food porn while you barely seem to be getting a rise out of it.”
Tim blinks slowly, eyes widening as his blunt words settle in. He chokes back a laugh, but quickly gives up and starts laughing for real. The tension between them dissipates as Jason joins him.
“Seriously though, what’s up?” he asks when Tim regains control over himself. “We’ve been to fancy places like this before and you’ve never had a stick up your ass. Although the food at this one is a damn sight better than that first place you took me to.”
It takes his boyfriend a moment to collect his thoughts. “There’s nothing wrong, really. I just…I want tonight to be perfect. I want to spoil the crap out of you.” Tim smirks, the familiar twitch of his lips that still makes Jason weak in the knees when paired with his sharp gaze. He’d ditched his glasses tonight, so those bright eyes are on full display.
“Then why so stiff?”
The smirk twists into a crooked half smile, a look that is pure Tim Drake rather than his public persona of Tim Drake-Wayne. “I’m nervous,” he says with a self-deprecating shrug. “It’s a big night for us. I’ve never been in a relationship for this long before.”
Jason calms down finally and relaxes in his chair. It’s more comfortable than it looks, which doesn’t surprise him considering how the rest of this dining experience has been. “Neither have I, but that’s not news to you. To be fair, I’ve been nervous too. There’s a certain expectation about tonight that a few people have been ribbing me about and…” he trails off as Tim shakes his head, managing to look both fond and annoyed at the same time.
“I’m going to be level with you, Jason. I am not proposing to you tonight. Not because I don’t want to, but because I really want to fuck with everyone’s heads for thinking they know us better than we do. We’re not ready for that yet.”
Somehow, Tim manages to find the right words to express exactly what he’s been thinking all evening. Jason stretches a hand across the table and Tim reaches out, tangling their fingers together. “No, we’re not,” he agrees, squeezing those long slender fingers gently. “There’s too much shit going on in our lives right now. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna be there with you each step of the way.”
“I love you,” Tim says simply, squeezing his fingers three times in emphasis.
“I love you too.” Jason squeezes his fingers back. “And I really want to love this dessert. How do I break this thing open?”
Tim grins as he picks up his spoon. “This way.”
*****
The orchestra is amazing. They both get their nerd on with Star Wars and Tim honest to god gets tears in his eyes at ET while Jason is positive he’s going to dream about dinosaurs tonight. He never knew the same composer wrote all the music for some of his favorite movies, which he decides is a fucking travesty. Tim agrees that Jurassic Park needs to be on the list for their next movie night.
*****
They end the night at Tim’s brownstone. Jason has enough clothes over here now that he doesn’t even bother packing an overnight bag anymore. His suit he can leave here and Tim will take care of having it dry cleaned along with his own.
“One sec,” Tim says, grabbing Jason’s arm before he can head upstairs. “I got us something.” He strides over to the fridge and takes out a bottle of champagne.
“Like we haven’t had enough to drink tonight?” Jason says with a laugh. He and wine don’t do well in large quantities. Give him beer or the hard stuff any day of the week. Champagne just goes straight to his head.
But I suppose that’s half the fun. It’s not like we’re going anywhere else tonight. Except for bed.
He’s looking forward to peeling Tim out of his suit, perhaps blowing him as he does. There’s something about making an absolute mess of the man when he’s wearing a suit that strongly appeals to him.
“I stole it from the last dinner party Bruce hosted.” Tim grins, obviously proud of getting it past Alfred.
“That shit makes me stupid.” Jason sidles up next to Tim, placing his hands on either side of his narrow waist and kisses his forehead. “You tryin’ to take advantage of me or something?”
“Only if you want me to.” Tim mouths the side of his neck, nipping slightly at his pulse.
Jason leans down and captures Tim’s mouth with his. “I could be persuaded,” he whispers.
“Let’s start negotiations then.”
It’s a battle for dominance, neither man giving ground as they try to gain the upper hand. But it’s a familiar battle, one that they both know will end with one of them giving way to the other. Sometimes it’s Jason, other times it’s Tim. And when neither give up, well, that’s what hands are for.
Speaking of hands, Jason can’t help but notice Tim still has a hold on that bottle of champagne. It’s getting in the way of him trying to take his jacket off. He grabs Tim’s wrist and tries to guide him towards to the counter to set it down. There’s a bump, so he lets go.
So does Tim.
The bottle misses the counter completely and falls to the tiled floor where it shatters, glass and champagne flying everywhere.
“Fuck!” Jason cries out and jumps back.
“Son of a bitch!” Tim swears as he does the same.
“Now there’s a boner killer, right there,” Jason says. He turns and grabs a towel from the counter. Cleaning up broken glass is something he does at least a few times a week at the bar. Champagne is new. I wonder if it’s gonna do anything to my shoes? At least I’m not barefoot, that would suck.
“No kidding,” Tim agrees as he heads to his laundry for the broom and dust pan. “I’m sorry. I thought I was at least level with the counter.”
“Accidents happen.” Jason goes to kneel but his knee has other ideas. A sharp stabbing pain lances through it. “Fuck,” he swears again and stands straight.
“What?”
Jason pokes at his left knee and leans over to get a better look. There’s a jagged piece of glass stuck in the fabric of his slacks. “It got me,” he says incredulously.
“Huh?” Tim returns with the broom. “Holy shit!” He tries to kneel in front of him to get a better look but Jason wards him off.
“Dumbass, let me at least move.”
He walks gingerly over to one of the barstools Tim set up at the far end of the counter and sits down, keeping his knee as straight as he could.
Tim kneels to get a better look. “That looks deep.”
“It feels deep.” Jason’s had enough glass cuts to know.
“I can get it out. One sec while I get the first aid kit.”
Tim has one on every floor of the brownstone, paranoid nut that he is. It doesn’t take long before he’s kneeling in front of him again. He wraps his hand in the towel Jason was still holding and tugs carefully at the shard.
It comes out easily enough but Tim is still frowning. “What?” Jason asks warily.
“There are fabric fibers in the cut. Take off your pants,” he orders and opens the kit.
Jason mutters some choice curses under his breath as he toes off his shoes and unbuckles his leather belt. “These pants are goners, aren’t they?”
“Unless Jacob can work a miracle,” Tim replies and helps slide them down his thighs and over his knees.
“This is not how I imagined you taking my pants off tonight,” he complains as the slacks stick against his injured knee. “I like this suit too. Maybe I can patch it.”
Tim chuckles and shakes his head. “You can’t patch a formal suit like you do your jeans. Alfred would kill you for one.”
“The butler always does it.”
“Alfred would never get caught.” Tim grabs the tweezers and rips open an alcohol wipe to sterilize them and then rubs it around the edges of the wound.
It stings and Jason can’t help but hiss. “Definitely not how I wanted this night to end.”
Tim leans in close and starts tweezing. “How did you want it to end?” His breath is warm against his knee.
“With your cock in my ass pounding me so hard I see stars.”
“That can still be arranged.”
“Promises, promises.”
In the end, Tim decides the inch long gash isn’t deep enough for stitches so he uses a few butterfly strips to hold it shut and tapes a gauze pad over it all. Jason supervises as he cleans up the mess and offers helpful commentary on how to best clean up glass.
It comes as no surprise when Tim ignores him and ends up cutting his hand.
Jason laughs at him as he cleans and bandages the slice on his palm. “There. Now we match.”
Tim holds up his bandaged left hand and glares. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
“Isn’t that how we got into trouble in the first place?”
“What else is new?”
*****
Later, Jason lays in bed with Tim wrapped in his arms. He’s warm, sated, and other than the occasional twinge from his knee, pretty damned relaxed. His lips brush the top of Tim’s head. The man doesn’t even stir. That’s alright. Even with his injured hand, he made damn sure to take care of him.
Always has to try and prove himself, even when he doesn’t have to. Typical Tim. Gotta admit though, I wouldn’t have it any other way as he makes me push myself too. I wouldn’t have made it as far as I have in the last year if not for him.
He hugs Tim tighter for a moment before relaxing.
We’ve survived one year. I wonder what the next one will bring?