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There’s a heavy thud as the tunic of the Robin suit lands in the laundry basket. Several smaller sounds indicate the removal of t-shirt, shorts and tights. Belt, boots and gloves are collected separately, formed into a pile and left on a certain table so they can be checked for damage at a later time.
It’s a Herculean effort, but finally Tim is undressed, standing in a corner of the cave in nothing but his boxer briefs, exhaustion slumping his shoulders and curving his spine.
He can’t bear the thought of the showers in the cave tonight, of having to drag himself any further than a few feet once he lets the heat of the water relax his muscles and wash the night’s grime away, so he heads upstairs, the thought of his own shower helping to carry his heavy feet along.
He stops in the kitchen to get a drink, terribly aware that he’s standing in front of the sink in nothing but his underwear as he gulps down water. Alfred would not be happy, Tim thinks, but it’s three-thirty in the morning and Alfred is undoubtedly asleep.
“You look like hell, kid,” a voice says, and Tim chokes a little on the last swallow, sends himself into a coughing fit. It’s Dick, and Tim doesn’t know why he’s here, but he’s glad that it’s not Alfred sneaking up on him.
Dick’s hand comes down on his back as he coughs, stills into a slow rub when Tim leans into him, pressing his face into his shirt and finally catching his breath. Dick smells clean, fresh washed skin and laundry detergent, and Tim is suddenly even more aware of his own smell of sweat and blood and dirt.
“Need a shower,” he mumbles, pushing away and looking up at his brother. Or at least that’s what he means to do. His body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. He does manage to look up, though, and finds Dick smiling down at him indulgently.
“Rough night?” Dick asks.
Tim nods again, barely noticing how Dick’s hands shift against him until the world is moving around him and he realizes that Dick has picked him up.
Bridal style, and Tim doesn’t have enough energy to fight it.
“Come on, little brother, let’s get you to bed.”
Tim closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Dick’s neck, breathing in time to the rocking motion of his footsteps. By the time they reach his bedroom he’s almost completely asleep, only waking up a little when Dick puts him down onto the bed gently.
“Shower,” he insists, voice slurred and low. He can only manage to open his eyes halfway.
“Tim, you’re exhausted,” Dick replies, something of a laugh in his voice.
Tim finds himself a little cross at being the source of amusement, and tries to sit up. He doesn’t get very far before he’s pushed back down, Dick’s warm hand in the center of his chest. Tim frowns, reaching up and managing to wrap his hand around Dick’s wrist. “Please,” he says.
He can feel Dick watching him, making up his mind. Tim has about 30 seconds before he falls asleep for real, and he really doesn’t want to wake up smelling like patrol in the morning.
Just as he’s starting to drift away he feels the hand on his chest move, his own hand falling to the side as his grip slackens, and Dick picks him up again, hands on his sides like a child.
“There we go,” he hears Dick murmur when he manages to wrap his arms and legs around him.
Dick sits him on the closed toilet in the bathroom, and he watches through heavy eyes as he turns on the water, hot enough to send steam billowing up in the chilly room.
He watches but doesn’t comment when Dick starts to strip off his own clothes, quick and efficient, and it’s not like he’s never seen Dick naked before, it’s just that it’s not generally at this close of a range. Suddenly he’s grateful for the exhaustion. Both because it’s brought him to this and because it’s keeping his body from having a reaction to it. It’s an absurd thought to have at the moment, but there it is.
Dick stands him up and Tim leans into him, turns his face into Dick’s bare chest and sighs against his skin. Dick’s hands pause, hesitant for a reason Tim can’t figure out before he strips Tim’s boxer’s off, pushing them down until they fall to the floor and Tim can step out of them.
Dick maneuvers him into the shower and under the hot spray of water, standing behind him and urging Tim to lean back against him as he grabs the bar of soap.
“Mmm,” Dick hums as Tim lets his head roll back against his shoulder. “This what you needed little brother?”
Tim can’t even answer or nod, just hangs there and lets the water stream over him. Dick rubs the bar of soap between his hands, lathering them up before he steps them back and out of the range of the water. Tim whimpers a little as the air cools the droplets on his skin, but as soon as he does Dick’s hands are on his chest, soaping him up. Tim is drifting, in and out and half asleep as Dick washes him, his hands strong and sure under his arms, down his stomach and lower still, never hesitating for a moment and Tim is coherent enough to think that he’s once again very glad that he’s so tired.
Dick huffs a breath that may or may not be laughter out against his hair, but Tim’s really to tired to care. They step forward into the water again and Dick makes sure he’s rinsed before he shuts the shower off.
Tim has a vague idea that there’s a lot of fumbling around with a towel to dry them both off, and then Dick picks him up again, carries him to the bed and tucks him in. Smoothes his damp hair back from his forehead as Tim drifts off.
“You can stay here,” Tim mumbles as sleep begins to tug him under.
Dick’s hand stills in his hair. “I’ve got to head back, actually. I just wanted to check up on you.”
Tim wants to nod, to say okay, but he’s already falling, spiraling down into blackness. He’s not sure, but it seems like the last thing he remembers before he drifts off is a kiss, soft lips pressing against his own.