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Jason wouldn't really call this breaking in, or stalking. But he needed the kid to take a look at this case file for him and he hasn't been answering his phone.
Jason's solution? Nag Barbara until she got annoyed and found out his location for him.
That is the only reason he was now using a Wayne Tech device to disable all security precautions Tim had for his safehouse, on a grimy old fire escape.
Maybe there was a nagging feeling of worry in him, but he'd rather eat another bomb than actually admit that to anyone.
With a small beep, Jason pockets the device. Sliding the glass open.
It was the bedroom window, Jason's first step inside and it was on old clothes and clutter. The place looked like a tornado tore its way through it.
This isn't Tim. Is what his mind immediately blares at him. Tim isn't like this, he's all organization, folders, files. Hell, one time Jason threw a case file on the couch at the manor and Tim scolded the shit out of him for bringing it out of the cave.
So when Jason takes a step inside and smells dirty laundry and mold. He immediately thinks he may have broken into the wrong safehouse.
"Tim?"
He steps over files and stray peices of homework on the floor, all screaming red flags at him.
His boots land heavy on the hardwood, walking into the living room that was clouded with darkness. He switches the light on, blinking around the sudden brightness.
"Tim?" He glances at the dishes piling up in the sink, Jason can smell the rot and mold coming from the leftover pizza boxes and takeout spread out around the room, flies feasting on it. He sets his case file he needed Tim to look at on the only space available, which was the coffee table by the couch.
"Jesus..." he mumbles, if he weren't trained by the dark knight he wouldn't have heard the slight groan coming from the corner of the kitchen.
He stills momentarily, before the noise catches up with him and he peeks behind the kitchen island in a swift movement. What he sees freezes him into place, feeling as if ice water was just poured all over him.
Tim was slouched over on the floor, with three fucking bottles of liquor pressed against him. One bottle already empty and in his hand. His chin was practically touching his chest, as if there sat an invisible weight on his neck.
"What the fuck." Jason's heart thuds in his chest, his legs feeling as if he's moving through quicksand, and before his mind can process it he's kneeling down in front of him. His fingers checking his pulse by his neck.
"Shit, can you hear me?" His pulse was normal, if only a little slow but it wasn't entering dangerous territory. "Tim." He pats his cheek, a small groan escaping his lips.
A harsh slap reverberated around the room.
Tims head snaps sideways, a harsh breath leaving his lips. But Jason will take anything if it means he's not slouched and looking dead.
"Mom?"
The smallest whine Jason's ever heard Tim make leaves his lips, Tims head rolling back down.
"Sorry, not happening kid," Jason forces his head up again, his hand not rough but definitely not gentle as he grips the roots of his hair. "You need me to slap you again or are you back with me?"
All he gets in response is a sluggish blink, his skin looking all too pale in the kitchen light.
His mothers face flashes behind his eyes, the memory of her limp and pale as a ghost suddenly clouding his vision.
He drops his head, his hand snapping back as if he had just touched a flame. He inhales shortly, staring down at the boy in front of him. A wave of grief and anger washing over him, because he was not about to do this shit again like a weird fucked up curse
"Fine, fucking mope around." Jason stands up, his feet thumping loudly across the floor as he snatches the case file that was on the coffee table.
He opens the window by the living room, preparing his grapple when his eyes snap back to the boy slumped over, looking weak and sick.
He faces the fresh air, a furrow in his brow as he thumps his back against the side of the window. He could leave and forget all this shit ever happened, he wouldn't have to deal with a sick kid and all the sappy shit that comes with it.
He sneaks another look at him, Tims hair was covering half his face in sweaty strands.
Tim wasn't like this, he never drank in such large amounts; not even at a Wayne gala and those things are unbearable.
Most likely meaning something truly awful happened to get him into such a pathetic state.
"Fuck me..."
He huffs heavily, his leg that was outside swinging back over. His footsteps heavy as he marches back over to the boy who looks about ready to keel over.
His hand closes around the collar of his shirt, bringing him closer roughly. "You fucking owe me."
He pulls Tim up by the shirt, throwing his arm around his neck. Tim was skinny, but a limp body helds it's weight. He stumbles over into the wall, huffing as he gathers more of Tims weight so he doesn't eat shit.
"Jas'n?"
"Now you get it," Jason grunts, trying to not get pissed off as Tim starts flailing his limbs around to try and break free of his hold. "Fucking- hold still!"
"Go Aw'y, go-" Tims flops his hands over his eyes, blocking off his vision as Jason squints. "-'way."
"Ow, fucks sake Tim." He twists his head away to try rid the fingers attempting to claw his eyes out.
He makes it to the bathroom without murdering him on sheer will and spite, nobody better call him impatient ever again.
He tosses his body into the bathtub, his limbs flailing on either side as he immediately lands with a 'oof'
Jason pulls the knob to the bathtub out, a fountain of cold water spraying out from the shower head and immediately hitting Tim directly in the face.
Jason would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy that.
Tim splutters, covering his head with his arm as he bends over the side of the tub. He pushes the knob, the fountain of water stopping its assault on Tim. He coughs, his chin thumping hard on the cool porcelain.
"You sober? Or do you need more water?"
Jason might turn it on again just for pissing him off.
Tim groans, his long-sleeve shirt clinging to his skin; atleast his eyes are a little more open. When Tim doesn't respond Jason pulls the knob out once more, keeping it on even while Tim almost drowns.
"Okay! I'm good-" Tim coughs, keeping his arm in front of his face. "-turn it off."
Jason does slowly, taking his sweet time.
The room sits with a pregnant pause, the tension so thick you could slice through it like butter.
Tim speaks first, his head still somewhat bowed, almost like he feels ashamed. Jason thinks he deserves to feel every ounce of shame there is.
"Can I have a towel please?"
He tuts lowly, grabbing a loose towel that was hanging on the wall. Not bothering to hand it over gently as he throws it at him.
Jason leans back, crossing his arms over his chest as Tim dried himself off. Pressing his face into the cloth as if he wanted it to suffocate himself.
The room sits in silence once more, with Jason glaring daggers at Tim while said boy keeps his face in the towel.
"What the fuck were you thinking?"
Tim doesn't anwser for a moment, and Jason has half a mind to start using his fists if didn't have a damn good excuse.
It's when Jason almost snaps again that Tim decided to speak, his voice all too small and quiet. "Why are you here?"
Jason huffs, his fist clenching by his side. "You don't get to ask me shit right now Timmy."
Tim lays back in the tub, his limbs still all too floppy to properly dry himself off. He leans back, his head laying slumped against the back of the tub. Releasing a small breath of defeat as he closes his eyes.
Jason rolls his eyes, glancing at the mirror half-heartedly. Tim wanted to be difficult, fine.
Jason sits down, right there on the bathroom floor. His back to the wall and his eyes never once leaving Tims form.
Jason knows how to be difficult too.
"You plan on staying in the tub forever?" It was a half-assed stall, given how dark the circles around Tims eyes are and the way hes slumped in defeat. The kids definitely going through some shit.
When Tim doesn't anwser, Jason exhales roughly. Crossing his legs in front of himself and getting more comfortable on the floor. He wasn't going anywhere.
When Tim looks over at him, not entirely aware but to the point where he's actually looking at him. Jason's never realized beforehand just how sad his eyes were.
Did they always look like that?
Jason wishes it were Dick who found him, or Bruce... Fucking anyone else on this planet who knew what to do. Jason wasn't like that, anything warm or soft never belonged to him. Separated like oil and water.
But seeing Tim like this, it's honestly a stark reminder to how young he truly is, only 17 and he's handled shit that most adults would enter an asylum for.
So he'll try, he might fail miserably with a bruised ego by the end of this, but he can't just do nothing.
Tim deserves that much.
His voice shifts more seriously, forcing the anger under the surface. "Why were you drinking?"
Tim face is motionless, eyes vacant as he stares at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. "Are you gonna tell Br'ce?"
Jason wants to scoffs but holds himself back, answering gruffly. "Bruce doesn't have to know shit, ain't his business."
Tim glances over, if he was surprised by what Jason said then he doesn't show it.
"Just needed something," Tim starts, his hand lethargically rubbing at his eyes before it flops to his side again. "Too much hurt."
"What hurt?" His voice hardens, immediately thinking of his plans after this. Track the people who hurt him down, rip their fingers off, cut out their tongue, burn them in gasoline-
"My parents..." Tim slurs, his voice laced with such a raw despair. "They're gone."
Oh...
No hunting needed then.
Instead of following up with comfort like Dick would probably be doing, or changing the topic to something lighter. He watches him silently.
"I forgot their anniversary," Tim leans his head sideways, his forehead thumping lightly against the tub. "It was a week ago."
He stays silent, watching as Tim closes his eyes again. It's after a good couple of minutes where he doesn't move that Jason's thinks hes had enough.
Watching Tim be like this, so not who he is, clouded with hurt and agony. Jason never wanted to see it again.
"C'mon," Jason stands, ignoring the crack in his knees. His voice coming out more softer that its been in a while. "Out of the tub Tim."
He grabs him from his underarms, pulling him out until he flops onto the ground. His body still motionless and limp.
"Just leave... leave me alone." Tim tries to swat him away, failing miserably and pressing his cheek against the tile as if it were the most comfortable place to sleep. "You hate me, they hate me-"
Jason doesn't bother to lean into that absolute fantasy, instead walking out of the bathroom and Into Tims room. Grabbing the first pair of clothes that he saw from the kids drawers.
When he comes back Tim somehow looks more depressed than before. Soft tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Tim, I have dry clothes."
He shakes his head, his lip wobbling as he speaks. "You left me." His voice croaks, the broken cry that leaves his lips feels as if it splits Jason's own heart into two. "Why does everyone leave me!"
Jason has a strong feeling he wasn't talking about Jason leaving the room.
He turns the kids head up to look at him so it wasn't being smushed against the ground. "I didn't leave, I got you clothes." He pats the kids cheek gently, until his eyes lock on his. "You think you can change into them yourself?"
"No, you hate me-" Okay, that one he might be talking about Jason. "You hate me, go aw'y."
Jason huffs, lifting Tim from the floor and having him lean against the wall; his head rolling side to side.
"I don't hate you." Jason's says simply, grabbing the towel Tim was using ealier and drying his hair.
Tim, honest to God, pouts.
Jason would compare him to a knocked over puppy.
"Every'ne hates me," his head flops side to side as Jason finishes drying his hair. "I'm bad."
He tosses the towel to the side, biting his tongue in order to not roll his eyes at the kid. Tim doesn't flinch when Jason starts tugging his shirt off, and it took some maneuvering since Tims arms were limp and he wore a long-sleeved shirt.
"Work with me here," he grunts, trying to gets his arms out of the stubborn sleeve. All the while Tim mumbles about how awful of a son he is.
"Forgot my parents- 'hic'- annivers'ry." Tim tilts his head up, "what kind of son does that."
He tosses the wet shirt aside, bringing over the dry loose shirt that fortunately didn't have sleeves. He glances at it, this was Bruces old shirt. He tosses it over Tim, going on him with much more grace this time.
Tim has yet to stop mumbling.
Jason clenches his teeth so hard he's survived none break, pulling down the kids jeans off and replacing them with loose sweats quickly. All the while keeping his eyes on the towel he had thrown earlier. To give him some semblance of privacy.
"-hate me, B hates me, Dick doesn't like me, I can't do anything right."
He ties the sweats in a loose knot, his shoulders hunched up as he fights the urge to punch him.
"I don't have brothers, no parents, Bruce-" Tim lets his head fall, his tears streaming down his face when Jason cuts him off.
"You shut the fuck up," Jason pulls his head back, having it thump against the wall. "Shut up with all this bullshit, B doesn't hate you, Dick doesn't hate you, nobody hates you."
His hand moved to his shoulder, gripping it tightly and trying his damn hardest not to point a finger in his face. "You're my fucking brother." His voice rough with emotion.
"You think it's not killing me to see you like this? Huh? You think I would try to sober you up, dress you in dry clothes, look after your drunk ass, if I didn't fucking care?"
Jason sighs, Tims eyes glistening with tears as he looks at him. And Jason feels his heart split all over again. "You hear me?" Jason's voice gruff but more slow this time, "You're my brother."
"I don't wanna hear another word about that shit, it's not true."
Jason's leans back on his knees, taking his hand off his shoulder. "Okay? Nod your head."
Tims voice is hoarse and small, "Okay." He nods his head slightly, the tilt of his head suddenly causing him to close his eyes and cover his mouth as he lurches forward.
"Fucking- shit," Jason drags him over to the toilet, barely dodging the onslaught of vomit from covering himself and Tim.
Jason's breathes out, a hand staying as a grounding presence on his back. "Alright... Alright just let it out kid."
Jason keeps his eyes away, staring at a spot on the wall. He sighs, gradually rubbing up and down his back.
Jason shifts on his knees, and Tim must've thought he was gonna leave because his hand shoots out. Hanging onto his shirt with clenched fists, his knuckles turning white from the grip, a whine leaving his lips.
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere." He prys the fingers from his shirt, keeping them in his grasp instead. "I'm right here."
Jason grimaces at the gross sounds leaving his lips, but he stays true to his word. He doesn't move an inch.
Tim coughs and flushes the toilet, leaning back slowly. Jason lets him, letting Tim choose to keep holding his hand or not. "Better?"
Tim nods slowly, catching his breath.
"Alright," Jason slings Tims arm around him, taking it slow as he helps him up. "Take it slow."
Jason tugs him up more when he stumbles, "C'mon, try to use your feet." In which Tim responds by tripping over his wet clothes that were still on the floor.
Jason grunts, having to almost carry most of his weight instead.
"Alright," He carries him to the couch in the living room, laying his body down. Tims hand still latching onto his own; even as his entire body goes limp.
"Timmy I need my hand." Tim makes no such movement to let him go, even holding his hand tighter. He rolls his eyes, albeit fondly, stretching his limbs to grab the blanket that sat on another chair. Barely able to grab it with his pinky, he lays it over Tim.
"You good?" Tims eyes are shut, body limp and unmoving. A small sliver of drool at the corner on his lips. "Yeah, you're good."
He attempts to walk away, his hand somehow still holding its tight grip on him. He grabs a pillow that was on the floor, prying the fingers from his hands and wrapping it around the small throw pillow.
The place was a mess, in a way where it forced Jason to bury the memories that wanted to surface, of rotten food on counters, of strange men lingering in the hallways, of his mother...
He shakes his head, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the alcohol bottles on the ground. Dumping it all down the drain.
He rests against the counter, staring at the trash and dishes around the room.
He so fucking owes him.
...
"Tim," He pokes at his shoulder consistently. "Babybird wake up."
He glares down at the sleeping boy, setting the bowl of Ramen he had made on the now clean coffee table.
He claps loudly in his ear, Tim springing back with wide eyes and a gasp. Eyes darting around the room, realizing there's no threat and forcing himself to calm down.
"Soup."
Jason holds it out to him, swallowing down a laugh at his startled expression. He waves it slightly when Tim makes no move to grab it.
"Soup?" Tim grabs it slowly, sitting himself up on the couch, looking confused at the blanket around him.
Jason hums, laying down on the other couch Tim had in his living room. Scrolling down a list of movies with the remote.
Tim glances around, no doubt surprised at the pristine countertops and dishwasher running. Even the blankets and pillows were placed neatly.
"You cleaned my safehouse?" Tim asks, poking at his soup slowly, keeping his eyes on Jason.
"I thought it was your apartment considering how messy it was." Jason sets the remote down, not taking his eyes off the screen. "But yeah."
Tim also looks at the TV, if only to try to gather his thoughts on what the hell is happening.
"You didn't have to do that," Tim stops playing with his food momentarily, his eyes darting towards Jason before staring down at his food. "Any of that... I'm sorry."
Jason shrugs, taking another big bite of his food. "Don't be." Is all he says, getting more comfortable on the couch.
"I mean, I really appreciate-"
"Shut up and eat your Ramen before it gets cold."
Tim chuckles, a newfound warmth entering his heart. A weight on his shoulders lifting.
He takes a bite of his food, leaning back against the couch.
When they both finished their soup and set it lazily on the coffee table, Jason clears his throat. "You said some stuff...earlier." Jason glances over at him, Tim still looked pale and weak but atleast it was only uphill from here. "You remember?"
Tim deflated, pulling the blankets up to his chin as he turns his body to face Jason. "A little."
Jason hums lowly, relaxing his arm behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling to gather his thoughts.
"Just because you missed their anniversary doesn't mean you don't miss them." Jason starts, only feeling a tad bit uncomfortable at the topic. But he was here, not Dick, Not Bruce. So it had to be him. "It doesn't make you a bad son to live your life."
Tim turns his body away, keeping his eyes trained on the TV to distract himself from the tears welling up in his eyes.
"Take it from any of us kid, we all lost our parents too." Jason stands, grabbing the bowls on the table and taking them to the sink, washing and drying them; if only to occupy himself for the moment.
When he lays back down on the couch, it's with a slight embarrassment to what he's saying. Vulnerability was not his strong suit, in fact it was part of his greatest flaws. But Tim needed to hear it, even at the cost of Jasons pride.
"Did you mean what you said?" Tim asks, his voice small and his eyes glassy.
"What part?"
Tim sniffles, not daring to look over at him. "When you called me your brother?"
There was a small pause in the room, Tim can feel Jasons eyes staring at him.
"Yeah Timmy, I meant it." Jason says so casually, his voice calm and soft. "You're my little brother."
Tim hums, his voice choking up with tears and he has to force himself to not make any noise as he rubs at his eyes with the blanket. "That's nice."
Tim might not know it, but Jason has viewed them as brothers for a long time now. A silent declaration that Jason would always be there for him, maybe with a little complaining but the point stands.
...
"Delete that!"
Jason yanks his phone away, keeping his arm outstretched to stop him from snatching it. "You look so adorable though." Jason drags on, ducking under an attack at his face.
A photo of Tim, drool in the corner of his lips, looking absolutely passed out of his mind.
Tim tries to duck under his arm to no avail, pointing a finger at his face. "You will not show that to anyone, I swear to God-!"
Jason walks away, taking a few steps back as he stares at it. "This would make such a sick wallpaper."
"Jason!"
...