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Three weeks into his partnership with Red Hood, Tim gets shot.
Jason kills the culprit.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Tim says later. They’re in their base of operations, Tim hunched over his knees while Jason stitches the wound in his back. His suit’s in pieces on the floor. “That wasn’t—”
He’s silenced by Jason’s sudden, bruising grip on his shoulder.
“No one,” he says, very lowly, “gets away with hurting my Robin.”
His voice is dark, threaded with everything they don’t ever talk about.
Not for the first time, Tim wonders if he’s making a mistake.
“Injuries are part of the job,” he reminds Jason. “You can’t just kill every—every low-level banger that gets a lucky shot at me.”
“Watch me,” Jason says, and returns to his stitching.
“Jay—”
“That’s how this is gonna work,” he says. “Nothin’ you can do about that. Take it or leave it.”
Tim thinks about it—leaving. Going back to the Cave, apologizing to Dick. Moving back into the Manor. Putting more locks on his door to make himself feel safe enough to sleep around Damian. Eating alone to soothe his fear of poison. Watching the little brat wear his colors, putting up with his mocking, watching Dick do nothing about the relentless stream of degradation…
Walking away from Jason.
Tim closes his eyes.
By this point in his life, he’s had more than enough experience with death to know how grief can change a person. His mother’s death made him cautious, closed him off a little. Kon’s and Bart’s and Steph’s (supposed) deaths taught him to cling to what he had left, more and more each time. His father’s death detached him from civilian life, driving him further into the cape.
Apparently, Bruce’s death has made him selfish, because the fact is…he’d rather let Jason kill people for hurting him than go back to being alone.
“So?” Jason asks, tying off the last stitch. “What’s it gonna be?”
“Please don’t kill for me,” Tim tries.
Jason kisses his shoulder where he gripped it before. “Sorry, baby. This part ain’t negotiable.” He pauses, eyes heavy on Tim’s back. “That a deal-breaker?”
Tim has to swallow three times before he can speak.
“No,” he admits. “It’s not.”
He’s just going to have to live with that.