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Tim trailed his fingers down Jason’s back, slowly tracing scars before coming to rest with his thumbs pressing into the indents on either side of Jason’s spine. Miraculously, considering the tapestry of scars that covered and was the remnants of Jason’s broad back, only one of the indentations was bisected by a scar. The scar was thinner than most of Jason’s, looking like it might fade given enough time. Tim wondered at the fact that he was here now. That even if this scar faded, he would remember it, here, under his thumb.
Looking at Jason’s back, marked up as it was, felt like looking at a living piece of art. Tim wanted to catalogue every scar. He considered, briefly, whether Jason would let him take a picture. Tell Tim what happened to form each line and pit in his skin and let him label each one so that even if they faded, Tim could still look back and say that he knew Jason, for that moment. Knew what had hurt him and that he had come back from it, albeit with slightly thicker skin. Tim already knew a lot about Jason. He…may have snooped through some files, but that was back before they were--whatever they were now.
“Uhh, Tim? When you said you were going to give me a massage, I didn’t actually think you were just going to grope my ass the whole time,” Jason’s voice, slightly muffled by the bedspread, sounded more amused than anything, but Tim’s face flamed red. “Something you’re trying to tell me?”
“I was not groping your ass,” Tim protested…and immediately moved his hands several inches further up Jason’s spine. He dug his thumbs in as hard as he could in retribution, but Jason just sighed and relaxed further into the soft covers of Tim’s bed in the nest. “Jay these knots are ridiculous—when is the last time you got a massage?”
“Mrrph,” Jason grumbled, and Tim paused his assault on a particularly stubborn knot between Jason’s shoulder blades. “Uhh..two years ago? Roy got me a coupon for my birthday, but the place ended up being linked to a human trafficking case we were working on, so we ended up going back after hours and clearing the place out.”
“What? Didn’t want to try your luck with a new place after that?” Tim grinned. He loved Jason’s outlaw stories. He liked the reminder that even when the family hadn’t been around to support Jason, he had found other people who dragged him through those darker years. Tim tried not to think too much about what those years would have been like, if Jason had been on decent terms with Tim. He knew those years between them were strewn with too many broken, breaking words and guilt so mangled that it erupted as accusations. They hadn’t had a chance to be friends until after everything had already gone to shit. Tim wouldn’t even be here now if Jason’s life hadn’t listed sideways and into a literal pit of toxic, green-glowing crazy juice.
Jason’s laugh brought Tim back to this moment, where Jason had scars tracking over each other, stubbornly attesting to the fact that Jason was whole and still here. “Fuck, I forgot about that,” Jason said. “There was this girl there, Dick would have loved her. She laid Roy and I out like it was nothing. Didn’t even have any weapons, just flipped down from the ceiling and hit a few pressure points. Woulda had us all out, but apparently Kori’s physiology is different enough that that circus chick’s shit didn’t work on her.”
Tim grinned down at Jason, shifting his attention to the outside of Jason’s shoulders. “Circus chick?” Tim pictured a double somersault landing on Jason and Roy, using their immobilized shoulders as an impromptu pommel horse. Yeah, Dick would love her. “Was she a red head?”
Jason huffed out a laugh, “Nah, brunette with uhhh shit, what’s it? Bubble braids?”
A pang went through Tim. “Seems like she made quite the impression.”
“Jealous much?” Jason teased.
“Of course not.” Tim wedged his fingers between Jason and the mattress, then jabbed his fingers just inside the juncture of Jason’s shoulder and chest.
“Fuck, babybird, warn a guy.”
Tim sniffed, “That’s more like it.” Jason gave a pained laugh. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah. Ya know, actually, thanks to you, I’m feeling right as rain. I think we ought ta get ready for patrol and—"
Reaching behind him, Tim poked one finger lightly at Jason’s left ankle. Jason’s whole body went rigid. “Yeah, right.” Tim said drily. “You’re in tip-top shape.”
Tim couldn’t see it, but he could hear Jason’s scowl as he accused, “You poked my sprained ankle. What the hell.”
“That’s right. Your poor, poor ankle,” Tim lilted. “It’s almost like you should take care of it.”
“That was a trap.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck,” Jason’s fist made an unsatisfying noise as he thumped it onto the bed.
Tim scoffed, “What, you don’t want to spend all night with me in my apartment? We’re both off the rotation tonight.” It had been an almost alarmingly quiet week, actually. Tim was trying not to think about it too much.
“I mean, yeah, but…patrol.” They’d already had this argument several times today. It was a moot point and they both knew it.
“Come off it. I even have dinner ready for you. Are you going to flake on my cooking? Use me and leave me?”
Jason considered, “Did you cook it yourself?”
“No.”
Relieved, Jason acquiesced, “Alright, I’ll stay.”
Fifteen minutes later found Jason lounging on the couch, leg elevated, as Tim answered the door. As Tim started setting stuff out on the kitchen counter, Jason perked up, asking, “Is that the green curry from the place outside the Bowery?”
Tim smiled, “And two orders of samosas.”
Jason beamed at Tim, and even though it wasn’t the first time Tim had seen Jason’s real, bright smile, it still shocked him to the core. “You know me so well,” Jason simpered, hobbling over to throw an arm around Tim and smack a kiss on the side of his head.
Batting him away, Tim marveled again at how bright Jason was tonight. His smile full, his skin flushed with health for once. The sprained ankle was nothing, really. They had all bunked protocol to go out on patrol with worse injuries before. But both Jason and Tim were here, together. Jason, glowing with happiness. Tim, floored by his luminescence.
Tim watched as Jason looked at him, expression growing solemn as his eyes caught on a mark on the side of Tim’s neck.
“Hey don’t—” Tim started. He didn’t want Jason to spend too much time thinking about Tim’s scars. He was fine. He was healed. They were so far from there and now—
Jason leaned in to brush his lips over the old, thin scar that he had put there. “C’mon babybird,” he said, grinning as he pulled back and then shoved one of the plates at Tim, “let’s eat.”