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Summary
"Give." The crack of Damian's voice was like a whip, right next to Tim's ear, and God that did things it shouldn't have.
Tim's hands shot up, one of them right into Damian's hair, twisting, pulling, the other slipping between glove and gauntlet, fingers pressing right against his wrist bone, threatening the break he was more than capable of. He pushed hard, but not quite hard enough to actually deal such damage.
