Chapter Text
"Come on, kid, just calm down for one second -"
"I'm not a kid." Jeff's response sliced through the air, his mutilated face scrunching into even more of a disgusting scowl.
Tim puffed his chest and crossed his arms, doubling down on his statement. "You're 18. You're a kid."
Jeff was practically snarling with how hard he was grimacing. His bony fists were clenched into balls at his side as he took a step forward.
At this distance, Tim could see the beginnings of the kid’s prepubescent mustache, sprouting unflatteringly from the greasy patches of skin that weren't horrifically burnt. His bloodshot– usually darting eye–was deathly still, locked in on Tim's pupil. "If you value your life, apologize."
Tim wasn't impressively taller than Jeff, but taking into account the teen’s self-inflicted hunch, that put Tim at around 4 inches taller than the killer. The sincerity behind the edgy statement only made the boy look smaller. Now while Tim knew it wasn't the most mature decision, he couldn't resist the urge to antagonize this punk. He let himself snark and roll his eyes. "Settle down, edgelord. Just do what your told and-"
To the surprise of no one, it seemed that Jeff failed to find the situation as humorous as his superior did. Tim came to this conclusion with the sudden appearance of a knife poised, hovering between his eyes.
“Apologize.” Jeff's hands were shaking. All of him was shaking actually. From rage or something else, Tim couldn't decipher. Not that he stopped long to think about it. He really couldn't find it within himself to care, red, hot, rage sliding into his veins upon processing Jeff’s presumptuous threat. After a quick assessment of the kid’s grip on his weapon, he formulated his plan of attack.
Quickly, as to not give Jeff time to react, Tim ensnared the boy’s horrifically thin wrist to immobilize his weaponized arm. With a solid yank, he tugged the boy towards him whilst simultaneously crushing Jeff's foot beneath his heavy boot, further disarming him. With the killer’s focus now on his balance and off of his hand, his grip on the weapon loosened. Tim took the moment to disarm him, bending Jeff's wrist at a painful angle that forced him to drop his kitchen knife. The killer quickly made a grab for it, but before he could skitter to the floor, Tim stomped his boot over the weapon. The man seized the back of Jeff's shirt, heaving his frail body off of the ground. Once up, he changed his grip to the front of the boy’s collar, yanking him up to look him in the eye.
“You've done nothing since you've gotten here to prove you deserve my respect,” Tim growled as Jeff desperately clawed at the man’s hands. “If you want me to treat you like an adult, then grow. The fuck. Up.”
The vitriol behind the words did nothing to force Jeff to listen. To Tim's dismay, it seemed they had actually inspired Jeff to send a powerful punch careening into the side of the older man’s face. The man loosened his grip and staggered backwards, holding a hand to his cheekbone. “Fuck-” before Tim could regain his balance, Jeff had stolen his knife back and savagely launched himself at the man he’d disoriented.
There was no time for assessing the damage done to his face. No time to curse and shout or reason. Adrenaline thrummed through Tim's body. This kid was really going to kill him. Just as Jeff had begun to swing wildly at him, Tim quickly managed to stagger off to the side, but not without part of his shoulder being sliced in the process.
“Shit.”
Jeff didn't relent, switching his technique from slashing to jabbing, now prodding towards Tim. His features were still twisted with rage, but as the fight continued, his mouth began to unfurl into a manic and horrifically cocky grin. Tim was dead set on not letting that confidence last. He scoured his mind for another plan of attack while he dodged and stumbled. When Jeff threw himself into a particularly aggressive jab, the man locked onto the window of vulnerability he was looking for. Once again, Tim took that outstretched wrist, pulling the boy forward. Knowing the same technique wouldn't work twice on the boy, Tim decided to go beyond pushing and pulling, instead throwing his first punch at the kid. His fist connected solidly into Jeff's hollow stomach, immediately knocking the wind out of him. Without Tim's grip on his wrist to support him, he collapsed to the ground, dropping his knife in the process, currently too occupied with figuring out how to breathe again.
Despite the older man’s own lungs burning from the exertion and the fact that his vision was becoming fuzzy around the edges, he commanded his limbs to move. He kicked the knife as far away from Jeff as he could and watched as the kid reanimated, crawling across the floor towards it. Tim took a moment to watch this pathetic display. The desperation, panic, and pure weakness of Jeff made him feel…disappointed. How could he have ever seen a semblance of himself in such a worthless person?
Tim took two big steps, intervening the killer before he could get close to his weapon, or rather, his shield. Despite having to physically look up at Tim–despite the fact that in every physical way, Jeff was at a disadvantage–the fiery glimmer of bloodlust never left his eyes. Tim lined himself up and gave a swift kick to Jeff's gut. Just how long would it take for him to lose his fight? Another kick. How much to make him lose hope? Another. To learn respect?
It felt good. It felt justified. Never mind feeling disrespected, he was beating the shit out of a serial killer. He was doing the world a favor.
But this kid didn't know when to stop. On the last of Tim's leisurely kicks, Jeff captured the man’s leg and sent him falling backwards. He took this opportunity to clamber over his body and unleash a frenzy of punches and scratches. Tim rolled out from under him, using his legs to shove the killer off. Now that they were both on their backs next to each other, the man rolled himself over, pinning one of Jeff's arms under his knee and grabbing the other in a vice grip, leaving him one open fist to dish out punishment.
Jeff was shaking harder than before, or at least it seemed that way now that Tim was actually making contact with him. Tim sucked in a shaky breath and noticed that his thoughts were quiet. There was no echo of what he was taught in therapy. No guilt regarding Alex and Jay and all the people he’s hurt before. There was only the sweet, familiar, cocktail of adrenaline, and endorphins, and rage ready to be expelled into one, nose breaking, punch. He sucked in another deep breath, yanking Jeff around into a good angle for a black eye. Just as he was about to release the catapult of his arm and finally teach this kid a lesson-
BANG.