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    Summary

    Now, he doesn't know exactly when Tim gets up and goes to the kitchen, but he gets up and comes back just as fast. "Here," Tim says. He hands Jason an ice pop before plopping himself on the couch beside him again, fan circulating warm air. It was better than being stagnant, Jason supposes but he's still overwhelmed and warm.

    "Thanks," Jason replies, grabbing the blue ice pop from Tim's hand. He can't remember the last time he'd had a freezer pop, if he were honest.

    It doesn't take long for Jason to look over at Tim and when he does, his brain short circuits.

    Jason knows he was staring despite the voice in the back of his mind that suspiciously sounded like a certain British butler telling him that it was rude to stare, but really who could blame him? It's hard not to when Tim fucking Drake looks as eye catching as he does; he's in a crop top and shorts that left nothing to the imagination, sucking on a popsicle like it was nobody's business.

    or: day one - popsicles

    Series
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