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Tim liked listening to Dick sing in the shower, just like he liked the sound of running water and calm city nights. Every time he heard it he’d close his eyes and let it wash over him, it was like meditating but less stressful than trying to be still and quiet and introspective.
Pleasant sounds were pleasant, so what if it came from a person? He just wanted to hear it, it wasn’t creepy (except it totally was).
But that was just how it was with Tim, he couldn’t turn it off, and he didn’t like ignoring things, so he was just observing all the time. Creepy or not, it just was, and it wasn’t like he told anybody what he observed, he’d rather die than let anyone know he admired anything about them. It created an unnecessary power dynamic where he was weaker.
So when he couldn’t hear Dick humming as clearly as usual, he opened his door and laid down in the doorway. He rested his head in his arms, closed his eyes, and let the running water and melodious singing rinse his brain of negativity.
—
Dick liked to sing in the shower, not songs, but more to his own tune. There were never words, just vowels, and it made an otherwise draining task more relaxing. If he distracted himself, he wouldn’t be able to linger on how ugly his scars looked on his skin. Don’t get him wrong, he’s proud of his battle scars, but sometimes he couldn’t help comparing his smooth skin to the thin white skin that covers his scars and it makes him feel some sort of way.
If his parents didn’t die, he wouldn’t have these scars.
He shook the thought away, he felt guilty mourning the life he could’ve had now. If he was never Robin and then Nightwing, what would have happened to the people he’s saved?
He felt guilty for that thought as well, like he was betraying his parents.
There was no use in thinking of what could’ve been, he concluded, because what could’ve been isn’t what has happened or what will happen.
He shut off the shower, dried himself off, and did his hair routine which took a decent amount of time, but not as long as it did when he had long hair (no, his hair was not long, it was medium length).
He got dressed in his pajamas and checked his phone to see if dinner was ready.
Dick: dinner ready yet???
B-man: patience is a virtue
Dick: im taking that as a no
When he left his room to bother Tim, he found him sleeping in his doorway.
He crouched and tapped him on the cheek. Tim scrunched his nose and made a sleepy groan.
“Hey bud, whatcha doin down here.”
“Listening.”
“To what?”
“Singing.”
Dick put two and two together, Tim was listening to him sing in the shower and fell asleep. That was fucking adorable. Dick barely stopped himself from pinching his cheeks and settled for squishing his face around instead, to which Tims face scrunched in confusion.
“What’d you do that for?”
“C’mon, up, lets go downstairs,” Dick said as he grabbed Tim’s elbow and helped him stand up, Tim grumbling all the way and rubbing the crusties out of his eyes. It was times like this that Tim reminded him painfully of Jason. Dick wrapped his arms firmly around his shoulders and ruffled his hair. Tim would know he was loved before it was too late to love him.