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It had started as something physical, just a way to blow off adrenaline after a rough patrol. Tim had been wary of Jason for years, and with good reason, but Jason started to grow on him. First, it was wry comments on the comms, then shared rooftop snacks, and before either of them really knew it, there were hot and heavy make-out sessions in more and more compromising situations.
But then, something shifted. Jason started cooking Tim meals. Tim started upgrading Jason’s tech. And they began spending more and more time in the bedroom together, sometimes just to sleep and wake up cuddled against each other.
No, they never really talked about it. But now, more often than not, Tim and Jason took their post-patrol shower together. And they usually didn’t even get handsy, too tired to do much more than get clean, change into comfy clothes, and collapse on Jason’s bed. Jason would put on his reading glasses and pick up where he left off in his novel, while Tim would curl up beside him, aimlessly scrolling through his phone and occasionally sharing funny videos or interesting news articles.
“Listen to this,” said Tim on one such evening: “Scientists say that kissing for a minimum of six seconds releases oxytocin. Doing this every day is a shortcut to building trust in a relationship.”
Jason was quiet as he calmly placed a marker in his book and set it down on the side table. Tim’s stomach lurched. Should he have used the word relationship? Would Jason bolt if he realized how deep Tim’s feelings had gotten? He froze, anticipating the worst. But before the panic could spiral, Jason’s casual manner shifted into something more predatory. He turned around and straddled Tim’s lap, nuzzling along his jaw.
“You saying I don’t kiss you long enough, baby bird?” Jason’s voice was low, playful, his Gotham drawl full of heat.
Tim dropped his phone and reached up, fingers tightly grabbing Jason’s hair. “I’d never say no to more of you.”
Then they were kissing—tongues sliding against each other, a battle for dominance, for far longer than six seconds.
The next day, Jason woke warm and sated in the midday sunlight. He heard Tim puttering around the bathroom, so he made his way to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Jason set a pot of coffee to brew and threw some bread in the toaster.
A few minutes later, Tim emerged, fully dressed in a suit, every hair in place, looking every bit the CEO. He poured his coffee into a to-go cup and headed for the door, clearly in a rush.
Jason blocked the exit, his broad frame easily filling the doorway.
“Nope, sit your ass down and eat something,” Jason said with a smirk. “Then you owe me a six-second kiss.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “I’m already late.”
“So what difference will it make if you’re just a little bit later?”
Grumbling, Tim made his way to the dining room table, snatching up the buttered toast and taking a large bite.
“You didn’t even brush your teeth yet,” he complained through a mouthful of food.
“That’s never stopped you before, gremlin,” Jason leered.
Jason leaned against the wall, arms crossed, waiting until Tim downed his toast and coffee. When Tim finally placed his dish in the sink, he turned back with a quizzical look on his face. “This is gonna put a crick in my neck if we try this every day.”
“Then I’ll meet you halfway,” Jason replied.
He swooped down and kissed Tim so tenderly that the younger man forgot all about his meeting, his schedule, or being late. It wasn’t a sexy kiss—just the firm pressure of soft lips against his own—but the feel of Jason’s warm body pressing against him, hands framing Tim’s face so gently, made him want to stay like that forever. Tim counted to six seconds in his head and opened his eyes.
It seemed Jason had been counting too, because he pulled back right as the count ended, grinning. “Now I could definitely get used to that.”
“Me too,” Tim murmured, smiling despite himself.
Just like they never defined their relationship with each other, they never really talked about it with other people either. They weren’t hiding anything, but Jason was private and Tim wanted to respect that. Of course, Barbara almost certainly knew, and Bruce at least suspected, but that was to be expected.
It never really came up, and likely wouldn’t for some time. But tonight, there was a breakout at Arkham Asylum, and Batman had called everyone in to the Batcave to make a plan of attack. Tim, stuck in a work meeting, was the last to arrive—and he spent most of the drive over worrying about how tonight would go.
The Batcave was dark and gloomy as always, despite the bustling activity of the Batfamily. Bruce, Dick, and Barbara crowded around the Batcomputer, while Steph, Duke, and Damian argued in the medical bay over supplies. Tim took a deep breath, casually making his way over to where Jason hovered off to the side, geared up and maskless.
“Timbo,” Jason greeted.
“Hood,” Tim replied, awkwardly. He felt a sudden chill, the familiar dread creeping in. Would Jason ignore him? Brush him off in front of everyone after everything they’d shared? Tim’s throat tightened at the thought.
He considered slinking away toward the others but froze when he heard Jason clear his throat.
“How’d the meeting go?” Jason’s voice was casual, his eyes warm. Tim could breathe again.
“Stevenson’s team is still behind on their project,” Tim said, relaxing into the conversation. “And of course, he tried to push the blame on the new guy.”
“That guy’s always jerking you around. How’d you handle it?”
Tim launched into a detailed breakdown of the meeting’s politics, only pausing for Jason’s occasional query or comment. They were both so caught up that neither noticed the way the room had quieted around them, Batfamily members exchanging glances.
When Tim finished his story, he turned to find Damian standing beside them, arms crossed and a disgusted look on his face.
“If you two are done with,” Damian shuddered, “whatever that was, Father has given us our assignments. Drake, you’re with Richard and Batgirl tracking Killer Croc. Todd, you and I are to apprehend the Riddler.”
“Oh,” Tim stammered, suddenly unsure how to act under everyone’s watchful gaze. “Good luck, both of you.”
Jason’s grin was sharp. “You too, baby bird. Try not to catch anything in the sewers.”
Twenty minutes later, Red Robin parked his bike in a grimy Gotham alley, when he was waylaid by Batgirl, who wore an obnoxious smile on her face.
“You and Hood seem awfully cozy,” she teased, one brow raised.
“You know we’ve been getting along since Bruce got back,” Red Robin hedged.
“Like how you and I used to ‘get along’?” the blonde Batgirl asked, making exaggerated air quotes around “get along.”
Red Robin stammered, trying to come up with an excuse, but Oracle’s voice crackled over the comms, giving them the latest location for Killer Croc—dangerously close to where they were standing.
“You’re not getting out of this conversation,” Steph called, hopping into the sewers.
Red Robin sighed, “Fine. We’ll talk after patrol,” and followed her into the inky darkness.
The sewers were always gross, but tonight they were downright unbearable. Red Robin waded through ankle-deep sludge, keeping his HUD locked on any possible movement. Batgirl moved beside him, her usual light sarcasm replaced with focus.
“See anything?” he asked, barely keeping the unease from his voice.
“Nothing. But he’s close,” She replied, eyes scanning the dim tunnel.
The air was thick with the stench of rot and rusted metal, and each splash of their boots echoed in the narrow passage. Tim could feel the walls pressing in around them, the darkness crawling under his skin.
Then, a low rumble shook the tunnel.
Red Robin barely had time to shout a warning before Killer Croc was on him, slamming into him like a freight train. His back hit the sewer wall hard, pain blooming down his spine as his vision blurred from the impact.
“Red!” Steph called, her voice sounding distant as she swung her grappling line into action.
Tim grunted, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. The cold, jagged stone dug into his back, but there was no time to recover. Croc came at him again, jaws snapping for his throat. Tim rolled out of the way just in time, feeling Croc’s claws scrape the wall where his head had been.
A growl rumbled through the tunnel, louder this time. Croc’s massive form loomed above him, yellow eyes glowing in the dim light, his scales slick with sewer water. The smell of rotting meat and wet scales hit Tim’s nose, making him gag as he scrambled to his feet.
“Incoming!” Batgirl shouted, launching a volley of electric batarangs toward Croc’s chest.
They hit Croc squarely, sparking on impact, but it barely slowed him down. Croc roared in fury and swung his arm wide, catching Stephanie with a brutal backhand. She flew backward, hitting the tunnel wall with a sickening thud.
“Batgirl!” Red Robin called out, trying to move toward her, but Croc blocked his path.
The monster lunged, claws extended. Tim barely managed to raise his bo staff in time, but Croc’s claws tore through his arm, shredding his suit and sending a sharp, burning pain racing through his body. His breath hitched, but he forced himself to stay standing, gripping his staff with his blood-slicked hand.
Croc grinned, his jagged teeth glinting in the dim light. “You’re all weak,” he rumbled, his voice low and taunting. “They send me the runts.”
Tim’s mind raced. His arm was on fire, and blood soaked his sleeve, but he had to keep his focus. Croc was stronger, but Tim was faster. He dodged Croc’s next swipe, then swung his staff hard into Croc’s side. The impact barely made Croc flinch, but Tim used the moment to scramble back to Steph’s side.
“Any chance Oracle’s bringing backup?” he asked into the comms, trying to keep his voice steady despite the dizziness creeping in from the blood loss.
“I’m working on it!” Oracle replied, her voice crackling through his earpiece. “Keep him busy.”
“Busy,” Tim muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as Croc growled and turned to face him again. Easy for her to say.
Batgirl groaned, pushing herself up on one arm. “You look like hell.”
“Yeah, well,” Red Robin managed between heavy breaths, “you’re not looking too great either.”
Before either of them could catch their breath, Croc’s tail whipped through the air, catching Red Robin across the midsection and sending him crashing into the wall again. His vision blurred, and for a moment, everything went black.
He gasped for air as he tried to stand, ignoring the sharp stab of pain shooting through his side. His hand pressed against the sewer wall for support, slick with something cold and wet. Croc was already stomping toward him, teeth bared, eyes full of hunger.
Just as Croc lunged again, Batgirl’s grappling hook shot out, wrapping around Croc’s arm and yanking him off balance. “Come on, Croc! Thought you liked a challenge,” she taunted, swinging above him.
Tim didn’t waste a second. He rushed in, bringing his staff down on Croc’s exposed knee with all the force he could muster. Croc roared, stumbling forward, but before he could recover, a pair of electrified escrima sticks flashed through the air, slamming into Croc’s side.
“Nightwing, coming in hot!” Dick’s voice echoed through the tunnel as he delivered the final blow, sending Croc crumpling to the ground in an unconscious heap.
Tim’s knees buckled, and his staff clattered to the ground beside him. He barely registered Nightwing’s hand gripping his shoulder.
“Easy, Red,” Nightwing said, guiding him back toward solid ground. “You look like you’ve been through hell.”
Red Robin nodded weakly, his mind still spinning. Blood was still dripping down his arm, his suit soaked through, but at least Croc was down. For now.
“You good, Batgirl?” Nightwing called.
“Yeah, yeah, still standing,” She replied, rubbing the back of her head with a wince. “Barely.”
Tim chuckled weakly, but before he could say more, the world swayed again, and the darkness swallowed him whole.
Tim awoke on the medical cot, his entire body aching, his side bandaged, and his arm stitched up by Alfred’s expert hands. The sterile smell of antiseptic mixed with the familiar, comforting scent of the Batcave.
“Master Tim,” Alfred said quietly, handing him a cup of tea. “You should be more careful next time. Sewer monsters are not ideal sparring partners.”
Tim offered a weak smile, sipping the tea, his hands still trembling slightly. He felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. But as the others began trickling into the cave, there was one person he was waiting for.
When Jason appeared, his eyes widened at the sight of Tim lying on the cot. “Timmy,” he said, his voice softer than usual, before he rushed to his side. “How’re you feeling?”
Tim felt a warmth spread through him at the concern in Jason’s voice. “Better now that you’re here. But… are you sure you want to do this? Here? In front of everyone?”
Jason’s expression flickered for a second, but then his lips quirked into a half-smile. “You are so fucking infuriating,” he muttered, pulling Tim in for a quick but firm kiss on the forehead.
As Jason started to pull away, Tim tugged him back. “You owe me five more seconds.”
Jason smirked, leaning down to place a soft, lingering kiss on Tim’s lips. When he finally pulled away, he turned to Alfred with a grin. “Thanks for taking care of my boyfriend, Alfie.”
Tim glanced around at the Batfamily, each member frozen in varying degrees of surprise. Dick recovered first, a grin spreading across his face. “Just one question: How did I not know about this?”
Tim shrugged, trying to suppress a laugh. “Maybe you’re not as observant as you think.”
Steph made an exaggerated gagging motion behind her mask. “I’m not paid enough to witness this.”
Damian, predictably, muttered something about “disgusting displays of affection” before stalking off.
Jason snorted and ruffled Tim’s hair. “Subtle’s overrated, anyway.”
Tim chuckled, but then he caught Jason’s eye, feeling the warmth in the simple, everyday gesture. The playful banter faded, leaving just the two of them in the center of the Batcave, the rest of the world blurred around the edges. Jason’s hand lingered on Tim’s shoulder, sliding down to rest at his side, grounding him.
“You okay, baby bird?” Jason murmured, his voice softer now, just for Tim.
Tim smiled, leaning into the touch. “Yeah. I think I am.”
Maybe he’d worried too much about this moment—about being seen, being vulnerable—but the truth was, this felt right. And for once, he wasn’t second-guessing it.