Work Text:
The first time Tim woke up in Jason’s bed, it was an accident.
Not in an ‘oops, I tripped’ or in an ‘I accidentally slept-drove over 17 miles and slept-lockpicked my way into your super secret safe house that even Batman doesn’t know about –the one 6 stories up, overlooking the nicer pile of toxic Gotham Harbor runoff– and tucked myself in because I haven’t slept since September’ way.
It was a lot simpler than either of those and contained fewer illegal and dangerous activities.
*~✻~*
The Red Room
Message Between ‘The Better Ex-Robin’ and ‘The REAL Better Ex-Robin’ Started
Jan 17 12:42 PM
Hy, can u swing by? i need
a nerd
You are the nerd Mr. I cry over
Jane Austen.
What do you wnat
Rude
Im tryin to reshelve my
books, yes im aware, but it
aint going well
Glad to see your aware
Nerd
What exactly do you want
from me?
If you want to know
how to organize em
theres a few ways.
Alphabetical, by author,
the dewey decimal dystem
I can send you
Geez
No just need a body
double
YOu just gott a sit near me
while i do althe work
So xan hou?
Yeah
When & where?
Is ther food abailable.., and
ZestiMs???
Yea to both, uou monsyer
Preferably sometime
today,, around 4
At my apartmen - teh one
that wasnMt just used ina
shootout
👍
-
So there went Tim’s plans of staring at a screen for 12 solid hours. And he was so looking forward to rewatching days' worth of footage of a group of idiots ‘stealthily’ smuggling weapons through Gotham’s port.
To be honest, it would be a nice change of pace from the mundane everyday that kept whizzing past him, and the opportunity for social connection, while one he doesn’t seek out, was a much-needed relief in his life. It was a surprise that it came from Jason Todd first, and not someone more outgoing like Steph or Kon. Oh well.
While he and Jason weren’t bff’s by anyone’s standards, they learned to tolerate each other to the point of discovering they worked well together. Eventually, it also got to the point where their presence wasn’t annoying and triggered the ‘shoot on sight’ instinct that some people employed. From that, they formed somewhat of a trust between them without having to force the effort, exactly how they both liked.
So, while out of the ordinary for Jason to ask him for help, it was no longer a reason Tim worried himself into the ground about. Instead, he saw it as a gift, a prize for dealing with the joy of being alive.
-
Tim spent 3 hours reviewing the footage, which was still 5 hours too many, before calling it quits to start heading over to Jason’s. He grabbed a jacket –Gotham mid-winter wasn’t terrible, but had a bit of a bite to it– and his computer bag, filled with everything you’d expect, plus a disaster pile of gum wrappers, chewed up pens and pencils, a stack of creased looseleaf paper, and about $3.78 in change.
Jason’s building wasn’t far, so Tim opted for public transit for the 10-minute ride, instead of using his legs to walk about 3 miles (ugh).
As the bus trailed along the road, jostling with every pothole, curb, and pedestrian it almost hit, Tim found himself leaning against the yellow holding poles that ran by his seat, the cold metal feeling like nirvana for his exhausted self. His eyes began to droop as his cheek pushed further against the pole. The ambient noise of the bus faded into a faint buzz, people yelling turned into gentle music, the robotic announcer provided him a comfort he likened to the semi-awake mumble from when his parents would return in the early morning and immediately wake him up with a soft brush of his hair and the hushed announcement of, ‘We’re back, Tim. We love you, have a good night.’ as they left a kiss on his forehead, remembering to turn his nightlight on before closing the door behind them.
Tim often forgot how sweet sleep felt, but he knew it wasn't completely in his control –if it were, then he would have easily drifted away despite the less-than-ideal bed he found– for despite how comfortable and downright exhausted he felt, the caress of sleep was nothing but a short tease.
The ride was over far quicker than he’d prefer.
He dragged his bag with him as he stumbled towards the open doors, grumbling out a quick ‘thank you’ at the driver before walking out into the bright afternoon of Gotham’s dilapidated old tile district.
One thing everyone agreed on, Jason picked the best home locations, this time… an abandoned textile mill that he and Roy fixed up and retrofitted into apartments he lorded over. A pleasant grove of Dark Olive siding and Cedar roofing that stood against the drab grey of the rest of the forgotten part of the city.
Tim loved the departure from the urbanization he was forced to survive in; everyone deserved a break from the colorless, soulless, and gross populous of skyscrapers, mansions, and tech-rich houses that made up most of Gotham and Bristol- even him.
He took a deep breath, bringing his computer bag up to his shoulder as he let the air wisp out of his mouth. Adjusting the strap, he held the bag against his side as he pulled out his phone.
3:57
I’m here
What # you at?
Tim pocketed his phone as he entered the main door, immediately encased in a calming wash of alabaster colored walls covered in a pleasant mixture of blown-up nocturnal shots of The Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, a few candid shots of the Gotham public, and some wonderful cityscape views that Tim knew could only come from the top of WE.
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, then another quickly followed as he tapped the screen awake.
20A
I’ll just come to you
He heard a door slam close in the distance as he read through the text, looking up to see Jason out of his typical Red Hood outfit, instead cozied up in Wonder Woman sweatpants and a pink Snuggie that he wore backwards. Tim fought a grin as he met him halfway, where Jason took his computer bag without a sound.
*~✻~*
The apartment reflected Jason’s life: an organized mess.
It was a quaint layout on the ground floor, somewhere around 700 square feet filled to the brim with sensible furniture, decorations, and life. Upon walking in, a sense of ease that Tim didn’t believe could exist pushed out a weight he’d long forgotten he was carrying, replacing the drudgery of life he typically felt.
Tim blindly followed, taking in the gentle seagreen walls that painted the main room and hallway that led to the only bedroom Jason needed. He noticed every tiny detail that made this place feel like home, from the calm, neutral colors that framed the apartment to the flower-shaped ceiling lamps that not only provided soft light but also a touch of flair that felt natural for Jason.
“Just take a seat anywhere.” It took Tim a moment to realize the words spoken, pulling his eyes away from the pile of information that made up the room, staring at the fuzzy pink back of Jason as they began pulling moving boxes filled to the brim with books towards the bookcase set as the designation of their new home.
He sat with his back resting against the bed, letting his head fall against the matching créme set that enveloped the mattress and pillows above, a pink comforter bundled into the lower corner brushed over his shoulder as he pulled his bag from where Jason had set it down.
-
True to his word, Tim did not have to lift a finger.
He spent the first hour and a half with his laptop resting on his legs as he took this opportunity to organize his playlist and the Word doc that accompanied it.
He quickly got bored with the repetition and lack of reward that the process provided, getting to the point where he now hated the alphabetical organization he had strived for –and he did not want to start re-reorganizing by genre, or god-forbid random, since that was what provoked the editing of his near 37 hours of playback in the first place. Deciding it best to put away his laptop before he threw it against the floor in blind rage, Tim closed the lid and slid it as far away from him as the carpet would allow. He stretched his arms above his head as a loud yawn escaped his very soul.
“Where’d that come from?” Jason jested from his rainbow of hardcover books that rested beside him.
Tim let out a mumble that his brain told him was a normal response and not a mess of garbled noises. He dragged his hands over his face as another volley of yawns flew out into the world. With a bit of a stumble and the help of the bedframe, Tim managed to stand up and then sit on the bed proper.
Jason stopped long enough to watch with caution as he moved locations, his arm jolting out in reflex when it seemed Tim was going to fall face-first into the floor. Luckily, Tim managed to stay alive, even if he was swaying from his plush perch.
-
He wasn’t resting, just lying down. That’s what Tim told himself.
The pile of pillows whispered sweet nothings that Tim could not ignore; his body began to fall towards the head of the bed, telling himself it was easier to watch the magic of reshelving from a comfortable horizontal view. He dragged the pillows until just barely meeting his head, lying on his side, his cheek smooshed against the soft case. Grabbing the comforter from the edge, he haphazardly piled it over his body. The coverage was spotty in its bundled-up form, but he got it over his arms, and that’s all he cared about.
He doesn’t remember closing his eyes.
He doesn’t remember burying further into the blanket.
And he does not remember falling asleep.
And when he woke in a haze of faded senses –his brain still embracing the tendrils of sleep that Tim could not find any reason to ignore– he did nothing more than turn onto his stomach and sink back into the warmth that surrounded him. Pulling the blanket over his shoulders, he then dragged his arm over the pillow before resting his head on the cold skin. A strange dream that he was not only resting in a bed, but a bed that wasn’t his own, skipped through his mind.
In what felt like no time at all, he was too far asleep to even remember any such dream.
*~✻~*
When the movement of the world around him finally dug into his mind —not a brief flash of light, or the muffled buzz of the electrical appliances fading in— he knew something was wrong.
It was the innate sense that something was off, like when you feel you’ve closed your eyes for too long, so you jolt towards your alarm, only to see that you still had 4 hours to go…
Except he didn’t have an alarm to check. He didn’t have anywhere to be.
He sat up as best he could, taking in his immediate surroundings. There was a pillow behind him, now a bent, drool-stained mess that was shoved haphazardly against the wall. And a pink blanket that lay over his lap, keeping him warm despite the ceiling fan rattling away above him.
The only light came from the hallway, illuminating just a sliver of the doorway.
His throat was dry and itchy, his eyes felt glued shut, and his brain hadn’t yet caught up with reality.
Slowly, he removed the blanket, ignoring the temptation to straighten it out and tuck himself back under, swinging his legs to the side of the bed. He took a sweep of the room; his laptop and phone sat plugged in on a 6-tier cube stand, the boxes of books were half-full, and the pale moonlight shone off the attached bathroom’s mirror, adding to the still too-dark room.
Tim stumbled through the room, using the walls to steady and guide him down the unfamiliar path. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, the bright hallway lights assaulted his vision, forcing him to cover his eyes as he groped around for anything that felt like a light switch. When the light flickered away, all that was left was for the spots in his vision to follow.
-
Now, he was a bit surprised to find Jason when he entered the living room, exiting the hallway that felt impossibly long. To be fair, he’s not sure what time it was, and he’s still playing catch-up with his memories, so it slipped his mind.
Jason was stretched out on the couch, his legs resting over the armrest as he lay flat on his back, one arm tucked under his head while the other scrolled away on his phone.
Tim made his way over, knocking into the back of the couch before tossing himself over and just barely landing on the couch.
Jason let out a gasp of air, swallowed by a cutoff yell, “What the fu-“ His phone hit his chin, and his arms hit his face. “Freaking ow, man.”
Tim said nothing, his mouth too dry to speak, and his mind too barren to think. He let out a pathetic groan as he adjusted himself and his make-shift pillow, tossing the phone onto the floor and the arm over his shoulders as he curled into the crack between Jason and the back of the couch.
“You are so fucking tired, man.” Jason laughed, watching Tim wedge himself in. “Dude, just go home at this point, it’s half-past 9.”
Tim shook his head and grumbled through Jason’s shirt.
“How long has it been since you got a full night of rest?” Jason asked rhetorically, unsure if he really wanted to know that answer.
The faint and crackly voice of Tim mumbled, “Got like 3 last Sunday," as he moved his head up a bit, settling back in.
Jason tsked in response as he shook his head. “That’s not enough, birdbrain.”
There was a pause, then Jason continued. “Alright, come here, you idiot.” As he pushed himself free, listening to the complaints that now emanated from his couch. “No. Anyone who sleeps there is cursed with a bad back. I am not doing that.” Jason chided as he reached for his phone, examining it for any new cracks before dumping it into his pocket.
He stretched his neck and back with a groan of relief before returning to face the couch. “Like I said. C’mon, man.” And he grabbed Tim by his arms and hoisted him over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry as if he weighed no more than a couple of grapes.
Jason walked them back through the apartment, turning off the lights as they went. “Back to bed we go,” he sighed, placing the resting form of his house-guest on his side of the bed. He fluffed the pillows and straightened the blanket before wrapping it around Tim, who unconsciously curled up under its shield of warmth and comfort. Jason chuckled at the sight, making his way around the bed, grabbing a loose sheet as his blanket. He fell onto the bed and wasted no time joining Tim in pleasant slumber.
*~✻~*
The first time Tim woke up in Jason’s bed, it was an accident.
Each time he returned, holding some old excuse on his lips and a bag stuffed with nightclothes on his shoulder - the strain of life, and the possibility of rest seeming to be far beyond his reach, wearing down on him day after day until he could take no more - it was because Tim had found solace.
A place where he could drop his thoughts and just rest.
As he settled into the seagreen apartment, nestled under a soft pink comforter, and surrounded by an ethereal sense of home, he thought, maybe it wasn’t a bad accident to have happened.
For it taught him how to take a break.