Chapter Text
Jason grunted as pain rippled across his back. His limbs felt heavy, his body refusing to cooperate as he pushed himself off the ground. Only then did he become aware of something hard and heavy draped across his chest and shoulders. The smell of sweat and gunpowder lingered far too close.
Had someone shot him?
That would explain the dazed feeling. But he didn't feel pain anywhere except his head and back. The latter made sense if he had fallen from somewhere high, and somehow, it explained the ringing in his ears.
"Jason!"
The shout reached him from somewhere nearby, carried by a deep voice that felt almost unfamiliar.
Jason forced his eyes open and looked around for Dick's suit. Too blue, too bright, too revealing.
He blinked and shifted away from the figure beside him as best he could. The same blue stood out in the domino mask, and the same worried smile curved his mouth.
"You scared us," he said, letting out a breath. "That was a nasty hit. We need to get you back to the cave right now."
"Dick?" Jason asked uncertainly.
The man tilted his head.
"Yeah? What's wrong?" Dick narrowed his eyes. "Did you hit your head so hard you forgot your dear brother?"
Jason fought the urge to fidget. Dick had never been this openly affectionate. If anything, he had always been more careful, almost permissive.
"You look older."
Of course, that was the strangest thing about all of this.
Why were there wrinkles around parts of Dick's face that had never been there before?
"Did you get hit by an aging ray or something?" he asked hesitantly.
Dick slowly shook his head, concern settling deeper between his brows.
"No." He leaned closer, studying Jason's face. "You're the one who got hit."
The possibility that he had somehow traveled to the future immediately presented itself. That would explain the strange discomfort in his limbs.
How big was he supposed to be when he grew up?
"Code G-27-LH-20060," he said quickly.
Bruce had taught it to him only a few months ago.
Dick blinked, and something unreadable crossed his face.
"We haven't used that code in a long time."
He lowered himself beside Jason, watching him with the cautious attention someone might give a cat poised to bolt at any second.
"Jay, how old are you?"
This time, Jason couldn't stop himself from flinching.
How could the code be outdated if Dick was asking his age?
"I'm fifteen."
The sharp click of someone's tongue sounded behind him, drawing his attention. Jason turned, searching for the source.
His gaze landed on a boy. Not exactly young, but probably around eighteen. Maybe twenty. He wore a black, white, and gray version of the Robin suit with red accents, something Jason couldn't imagine Dick ever allowing.
The boy crossed his arms and looked thoroughly unimpressed.
"Did his mind regress while his body didn't, or is this amnesia?"
Jason blinked.
Weren't those almost the same thing?
If he was in the present and remembered nothing beyond a certain point in his life, then he had lost an entire lifetime of memories. His mind had effectively traveled backward.
"Both?" he suggested before Dick could answer.
Dick sighed and pushed himself to his feet.
"Both, Dami." He extended a hand toward Jason. "Either way, it's something we need to figure out."
Jason took it.
Dick had to put a little effort into hauling him upright, and the moment he found his footing, he staggered. The ground felt much farther away than he remembered.
His breath caught.
He was a damn head taller than Dick.
"You ended up short," he muttered before he could stop himself.
He immediately dropped a hand onto Dick's short, neatly combed hair as if he needed proof.
"What year is it?"
"It's—"
"Damian," Dick interrupted. "It's in the manual. You don't tell them the time."
Jason grimaced.
"What if this is amnesia?" he asked as he followed Dick across the rooftops. "If it's amnesia, then it's important that you tell me things so I can get my memories back."
"Maybe," Dick said as he swung toward the next building. "But first, we need to figure out exactly what we're dealing with."
Jason couldn't argue with that.
Even so, he couldn't stop himself from staring at everything around him. At every detail that might have changed between his time and the present.
Especially the reason he was carrying guns holstered at his hips.
There was no one there when they arrived, so Jason was left with the question hanging in his mind while Dick dragged him toward the medical room.
Halfway through the struggle, he discovered that he could throw his weight around and make it significantly harder for Dick to haul him along.
Apparently, his body was strong enough to be a challenge even for the great Nightwing.
He bit back a smile.
He liked the idea that he had reached a point where he could be that muscular and somehow still flexible.
It was almost a perfect combination.
Maybe he had made it this far. Maybe he had become good enough to eliminate any reason Bruce might have had to leave him behind.
If that was the case, how could Bruce possibly get rid of him?
Future Jason had clearly worked hard.
Jason sat on the bed and immediately realized his feet touched the floor. Tall. Far too tall.
He grimaced and swept his gaze around the room, searching for clues about this strange future. There were traces of unfamiliar technology and medications with names he didn't recognize. Everything about the room spoke of preparation so thorough it bordered on obsession.
"And Alfred?" he asked when he noticed Dick handling the medical file himself. "I can survive seeing him with a few extra wrinkles."
The joke barely left his mouth.
Damian stiffened beside Dick.
His hands froze over the test tubes before he carefully placed the fragile glass back into its rack and stepped away from the table.
"I'll contact Father and Tim."
He left without looking at Jason again. Jason noticed anyway. The tension in his face. The weight pressing down on his shoulders.
"He's dead, isn't he?" Jason asked, still staring at the doorway.
"Yeah," Dick murmured. "It's been a while."
Jason exhaled slowly. Perhaps that was the moment the situation truly settled into place.
Just hours ago, he had spoken with Alfred and promised they would bake cookies when he returned from patrol.
And now—
Now he was being asked to carry a grief that belonged to someone else.
Someone who had already lived through it.
His shoulders squared instinctively. He straightened. He couldn't let himself sink into that.
He would return to his own time. Or his memories would come back, and the pain would already be old. Or he would have to learn to expect it.
But it wasn't something he could allow to break him now.
He was nothing to this time. But whoever belonged here was.
And Dick was probably waiting for him to come back. Maybe Bruce was too.
They would fix this, and everything would go back to normal.
His hand drifted automatically toward the band around his wrist when he noticed Dick pulling out an unnecessarily large needle.
Then he froze.
There was nothing there.
His eyes widened as he looked down.
He never took it off. He guarded the design that belonged to him and his soulmate with fierce protectiveness. And now it was visible to everyone.
Glowing in ocean blue bordered by shades of red and black. He blinked, completely mesmerized.
He had never imagined it would be so beautiful. So bright. So warm. So impossibly right. Exactly how a claimed mark should look.
His head snapped up toward Dick.
He was practically trembling on the bed as he thrust his wrist forward, presenting it with barely contained excitement.
"I found them?" His voice cracked. A smile fought its way across his face. "I really found them?"
Dick looked at the mark and then back at Jason. For a second, he seemed completely thrown by the reaction.
"Yeah."
Jason shot to his feet.
The excitement lasted approximately one second before reality reminded him that his body was far too large for the instincts steering it.
His feet tangled together. The room tilted. Dick caught him before he hit the floor.
"Maybe we should get you back in bed."
"Mmmh," Jason mumbled, heat flooding his face.
But he couldn't help it. He had waited for this for so long. And now he had it.
Even if he had to return to the past and keep waiting, or his memories came back and this version of him disappeared, knowing it would happen warmed something deep inside him.
Something that had spent years hoping.
"What are they like?" he asked.
Dick had to know. If they were close, if they were brothers, then Jason should have told him about his soulmate. And Jason knew they would never let him go looking for them like this, so he wanted to gather as much information as possible before anyone realized exactly what he was planning.
Dick hummed as he began the standard medical checkup.
"Very smart," he said. "A little enthusiastic, and completely insane, but I think that's your type."
Jason didn't know, but maybe it was. If someone had been made for him, then it meant he would like them.
And they would like him too.
He liked that part.
"And what else?"
Dick stepped away and fed the samples into the computer. Jason didn't understand the point of all the tests, but maybe new advances had been made. Maybe they could unfold space and time and provide an answer about accidental time travel.
Or maybe Dick was simply keeping him occupied so he wouldn't wander freely through Gotham in a body that obviously had a driver's license...
And carried guns.
He still needed to ask about that.
Dick leaned against the examination table while the computer emitted a series of quiet beeps as it processed the scans.
"I couldn't really say," he admitted. "I'm sure your opinion is different. More personal."
He shrugged.
"But maybe he has those answers."
He.
It's a he.
Well, that was a possibility. It wasn't as though Jason had been expecting anyone specific.
He—Has those answers? Did that mean he could actually see him?
"Can I see him?" Jason pushed himself to his feet, steadier this time. "He... you know? Is he a vigilante too? Oh—"
"Jason." Dick cut him off before he could launch himself into an endless stream of questions. "Yes, and yes. And every other question, you can ask him yourself."
The sound of a car arriving interrupted them.
Dick glanced toward the entrance.
"And I think they got here just in time."
Jason didn't stop to ask permission.
He strode out of the room in long steps, crossing the cave with startling ease now that his body seemed determined to cooperate.
He saw Bruce step out from the driver's seat, still wearing the black cape and bat ears.
Someone younger climbed out of the passenger side. Maybe a little younger than Jason's current body, if his estimates based on Dick's age were accurate.
The man—what had Damian called him? Tim?—looked up the moment he saw him.
His entire body seemed to loosen immediately.
He approached Jason with easy confidence, slipping the mask from around his own eyes.
"Damian's message sounded very urgent," he said with a small smile.
His gaze swept over Jason from head to toe, and Jason shivered at the quiet intensity behind it.
"You look perfectly fine to me, sweetheart."
Jason stopped breathing.
"You're beautiful," he whispered without restraint.
Tim raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, amusement flickering across his face.
Heat rushed up Jason's neck.
He rubbed the back of it, trying and failing to calm the nervous energy buzzing beneath his skin.
"I didn't mean it like that," he blurted out.
Tim's eyebrow climbed higher.
"I mean, I did mean it. I mean, you are beautiful. Really beautiful. Your eyes are gorgeous. But I didn't mean it in this awkward and—"
"Jay."
Tim smiled at him.
He held out his hand in something that felt like more than a greeting. His mark shone openly on his wrist. The same design Jason carried, though woven from different colors. A black darker than Jason's own, an almost mystical green, and a deep red.
Three colors he couldn't understand belonging to him.
But apparently fate had decided they were his, engraving them into the skin of his soulmate.
"My name is Timothy Drake. Though everyone calls me Tim." His smile softened. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Jason drew in a deep breath and returned the smile.
He carefully took Tim's hand, noticing that his own palm was much larger than Tim's. Even so, he held it gently as they shook hands.
"I'm... I'm Jason Todd." His smile widened despite himself. "It's a pleasure to meet you too."
Right then, something magical happened.
Their marks flared brightly, as though Jason's altered memories required a second confirmation. As though his soul needed the information even if his mind did not.
The glow was blinding, but he couldn't look away.
His gaze remained fixed on Tim's face. On the way the light of their bond reflected in those warm blue eyes. On the soft smile resting on his lips, and the simple fact that that smile was meant for him.
No hidden intentions.
No malice.
Just the quiet certainty of a deep love for him. Of an entire life they had shared together, one Jason still couldn't remember and technically didn't belong to, yet desperately wanted to reach.
He was Jason.
One way or another, he would live everything Jason had lived to arrive at this moment. To be loved like that. To love the man standing before him with the same certainty shining in those eyes.
His feet carried him forward before he realized what he was doing. Having Tim close felt good. It felt right. His soul pulsed in recognition. His mind held no thought except Tim.
Tim and the soft curve of his lips. Still damp from where he had run his tongue across them. Slightly worn from someone who bit them often.
Jason only had to lean in a little.
Just a little.
And he could claim them with his own.
He—
A folder slid between them just as his face drifted within inches of Tim's.
The moment shattered.
The glow faded from their marks.
Jason stared at this older, more worn version of Bruce with pure offense.
"Tim is twenty-seven, Jason," Bruce scolded. Though Jason wasn't entirely sure which one of them was being scolded. "And you're fifteen mentally. So both of you stay two arm lengths apart."
Jason's mouth dropped open. Outrage flooded through him.
"I'm going to kiss that guy at some point in my life. Why not now?"
Damian's laughter burst from the side, genuine and completely unrestrained.
"Because when the Jason we know comes back and finds out Tim kissed this version of him, he'll turn into a crying baby and spend weeks depressed because Tim chose someone else over him," he rattled off in a single breath.
That had to be some kind of record.
And somehow, Jason felt with complete certainty that it was absolutely something he would do.
He sighed in defeat and reluctantly stepped back. Then he looked at Tim and immediately found himself speechless all over again.
Tim had a hand pressed over his mouth, trying to contain laughter that seemed determined to break free anyway. Maybe he was remembering the man Jason would become. Maybe it was the certainty that came from knowing him so well that Damian's prediction hadn't sounded ridiculous in the slightest.
Without bothering to scold Damian, Tim simply fought the tremor running through his shoulders while watching Jason with bright eyes.
With fondness. With recognition. With all the affection that would someday belong entirely to him.
Eventually, Tim regained control of himself. He didn't let the smile disappear, though it softened into something gentler, something warm enough to settle beneath Jason's ribs.
"Do you want something to eat?" He pointed toward the stairs. "Whatever Bruce and Dick are doing is going to take a while, so..."
Jason nodded quickly.
Now that Tim mentioned it, he could feel his stomach twisting with hunger.
"That sounds great."
The two of them climbed upstairs at an easy pace, shoulder to shoulder. Their hands brushed together more than once without either of them bothering to be subtle, though they still maintained a respectable distance so Bruce wouldn't panic and throw Tim out of the manor.
"So," Jason began, accepting the cup of tea Tim offered him, "are we dating?"
Tim shook his head and lifted his hand, displaying the beautiful ring resting on his finger.
"Married," he corrected easily, a grin spreading across his face. "Two years already."
"Oh."
The whisper escaped before Jason could stop it. He immediately raised his own hand, searching for the matching ring—
And found nothing.
Tim dismissed the concern the moment it appeared on his face and pointed toward Jason's neck.
"You work with gunpowder, and you don't want it getting dirty. You wear it on the chain around your neck."
Jason reached up automatically. His fingers found the small but thick band resting against his chest beneath his shirt. He pulled it free just far enough to see it.
The ring was beautiful. And perfectly matched to Tim's.
"Oh," he murmured again.
His hand lingered there for a moment. Only then did he notice the dark stains scattered across his fingers.
"Why do I use guns?"
Tim tapped his cup twice with his fingernails before shaking his head.
"It's part of a very old and very long story that, if this really is amnesia, won't change anything."
Something tightened in his voice. Bitterness. Disappointment. Acceptance. The emotions flickered across his face so quickly Jason might have imagined them if he hadn't been watching so closely.
He didn't dare ask.
"I understand," he murmured.
He tucked the chain back beneath his shirt and forced a small smile, hoping he could offer some comfort from a distance, even if he didn't fully understand what hurt.
"Then how about we talk about how we met?"
Once again, a contradictory expression crossed Tim's face.
"Well... I've known you forever," he said, glancing away with visible embarrassment. "I had way too much free time and basically no parental supervision, so I used to wander around Gotham's rooftops taking pictures."
Jason frowned.
"That's really dangerous for a fifteen-year-old."
Tim's grimace deepened.
"I was a little younger than that," he muttered.
Then he hurried on before Jason could interrupt.
"And then, I... you... uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's just say we started by measuring each other's strength in a fistfight."
Jason narrowed his eyes.
Why did he have the feeling it hadn't been a very fair fight?
"And... uh... our marks started glowing."
Tim lifted his wrist as though he needed to redirect Jason's attention away from his face. He was nearly completely red now, chewing on his lip hard enough to leave pale marks behind.
"And... we... ended up sleeping together."
Jason gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth.
"We fucked!?"
Tim actually squeaked.
"Don't say it like that!"
"But that's what happened," Jason pointed out.
He couldn't process what he was hearing.
Had his older self seriously become so insane that he'd slept with someone after a fight?
He wouldn't do that.
And he couldn't understand how his future self could either.
"Jason, please," Tim begged, somehow turning even redder. "We were pretty young, and we were both going through a lot. But things got better—"
"With more sex," Jason supplied confidently.
Tim let out another strangled sound of embarrassment.
"No," he insisted. Jason didn't believe him for a second. "Finding out we were soulmates opened up a lot of possibilities. That was all."
Jason hummed and took another sip of his tea without commenting further. As tempting as it was to discover exactly how red Tim could get, he decided to spare the man for the sake of his dignity.
"So, when did we start dating?"
Tim was twenty-seven, and he had followed Jason during his Robin years, which meant Jason himself had to be twenty-nine at most.
And they had gotten married two years ago.
Ten years together?
That sounded like forever.
He would have married his soulmate a year after finding them.
What had taken his counterpart so long?
Tim hummed softly, looking upward as though he genuinely needed a moment to calculate it.
"Four years, six months, and two weeks ago," he answered with complete confidence.
Jason narrowed his eyes. Immediately suspicious. That sounded like the kind of answer someone gave when they were carefully avoiding a different question.
"And when did we meet?"
Tim looked away. A slow breath left him.
"Jason."
When he looked back, there was something firmer in his expression.
"The things we went through..." His voice faltered for a fraction of a second. "They might never happen to you if this is time travel. Or they could become old wounds all over again if this is amnesia."
His fingers tightened around the mug.
"Just let it go. It's better."
"But—"
"Please." The word emerged with a pain that caught Jason completely off guard. "Let it go. It'll be easier for everyone."
Jason inhaled shakily.
Suddenly, he felt far too small, even inside the oversized body he occupied.
The questions still churned through his mind, but he didn't want to push.
Not when Tim was looking at him with that quiet pain that seemed one breath away from swallowing him whole.
"Okay," he said softly. "Okay."
He licked his lips, searching for a way to smooth things over. A way to ease the tension that had quietly settled between them.
He didn't like it.
He didn't like seeing Tim like this at all, as though he had to hold himself back and build walls around his own feelings to keep Jason from hurting even more.
He couldn't stand the idea of his soulmate suffering.
"Tell me," Jason said, dragging his chair a little closer and leaning forward. "What was the wedding like?"
Tim's smile softened immediately.
Jason took that as a victory.
"It was wonderful," Tim said. "We had it in the manor gardens. Small and intimate, with the people we loved most."
Jason hummed happily, catching every detail of Tim's expression. The curve of his smile. The warmth woven through his voice. The brightness in his eyes, overflowing with love and joy.
"And even then," Tim continued with a quiet chuckle, "it still took us six months to put everything together. Because it could be small, but it had to be perfect."
He looked at Jason with so much affection that it almost felt tangible.
"I wanted to give you a beautiful wedding. Not just paperwork and a simple speech. You deserved a beautiful memory, surrounded by the people who love you."
Jason swallowed against the knot forming in his throat, unsettled by how strongly those words affected him.
Why did that make him want to cry?
Sure, he had been fighting with Bruce more lately. And Dick still felt both close and distant, not entirely comfortable with accepting him beneath the mantle.
But things were fine.
Weren't they?
There wasn't any reason for them to drift apart. And Bruce wouldn't push him away over arguments.
Right?
Tim cupped his cheeks.
Jason startled.
When had he moved so close?
Gentle fingers brushed across his skin, wiping away tears he hadn't even realized were falling.
"They love you, Jay," Tim said quietly. "Bruce, Dick, Alfred. They all do."
The words settled heavily inside his chest. "Why do you sound like you need to remind me?"
Tim closed his eyes briefly.
"I know..." He exhaled slowly. "I know things happened when you were younger. You were angry at Bruce. But that's not what matters anymore. We've all made peace with the mistakes of the past."
He smiled. Even though the corners of his mouth trembled.
"And I'm here for you. Always. At any point in your life, if you looked behind you or beside you, I was there."
His voice softened.
"If you go back to the past, I'll probably still be admiring you from afar with a camera, saving every picture to treasure."
His fingers tightened slightly against Jason's skin.
"If this is memory loss, I'll be here when you leave, and I'll be here when you come back. I'm the immovable piece in your life, whether you like it or not."
A rough laugh escaped him. Small. Frayed around the edges.
"And there was a time when you didn't want that. Out of fear. For reasons I can't tell you. And even then, I stayed."
He drew a slow breath and once again wiped away the tears that refused to stop falling.
"And I'll never leave."
"That's only because we're soulmates," Jason whispered, the words aching on the way out.
Tim shook his head immediately.
"I loved you before I knew we were soulmates," he said, firm and unwavering. "Maybe the bond was there, pushing me toward you, but I never felt it that way."
Then he rested their foreheads together.
Jason shivered and closed his eyes. Such a simple gesture. Yet it felt warm and deep.
"I chose to love you first," Tim whispered. "Before any destiny."
Jason's breathing turned uneven.
He couldn't move.
His muscles were growing heavy again, his thoughts following close behind. Staying conscious felt harder and harder. Too many emotions packed into too little time, and he had no idea what to do with any of them.
"I need..." He barely managed to force his eyes open through the blur clouding his vision. His head throbbed. "I think I need to rest."
Maybe it really was amnesia. Maybe all this information at once was finally catching up with him.
"Is my room still the same?"
Tim nodded and helped him to his feet.
"It's a little bigger, because it's ours. But you can have it all to yourself."
Jason bit his lip. He swallowed the urge to ask Tim to come with him. Bruce would never allow it anyway.
"Okay," he said, stepping away from him. "See you tomorrow."
"Yeah," Tim whispered.
Then his expression softened again.
"And if we don't... I want you to know that I love you. A lot. Since I was that little kid taking pictures on rooftops." His smile trembled. "I've always loved you."
Jason inhaled shakily, still caught off guard by confessions like that, yet unable to stop the warmth spreading through him.
"I love you too," he said. "I don't know you, but I know I do. I will."
His tired smile returned.
"For some reason, loving you feels easy." The words slipped out before he could overthink them. "Like it's the best thing I'll ever do with my life."
The shine in Tim's eyes appeared instantly.
Jason looked away just as fast. He had absolutely no idea what to do if Tim started crying.
Tomorrow would probably be easier.
And if he didn't wake up, his counterpart would take care of that.
Hopefully, that version of him knew what to do with a crying Tim.
Jason's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. The embarrassment left behind by his younger counterpart's actions still buzzed stubbornly in the back of his mind.
What had been wrong with that kid?
And more importantly, what had all those beautiful things Tim had said been about?
Catching him completely off guard while he was at his most vulnerable. Confessing himself all over again as though the memories of the first time hadn't already left Jason shaken for weeks.
Now he had those new memories lodged permanently in his mind.
Why did he even remember any of it?
Once his memories returned, he would have expected that stretch of time to become a blank space. A blink. One moment here. The next somewhere else. Like waking after passing out. Like opening his eyes after a dream.
Apparently, not for him.
He had woken up with the memories of his younger self and the entire life he had lived over all these years layered together inside his head.
And the worst part?
His counterpart had gone to sleep fully dressed. There was nothing more uncomfortable than that.
Obviously, Jason understood the hesitation after seeing the scar cutting across his torso, but damn it, his skin still felt irritated from the creases pressed into it by his clothes.
And he had no intention of moving either. Not while those memories continued taking turns humiliating him.
A knock at the door interrupted the spiral.
Jason sighed and pushed himself upright. "Come in."
The door opened.
Tim stepped inside. The exhaustion was obvious in the slope of his shoulders and the shadows beneath his eyes. Clear signs that he had spent the entire night searching for answers.
Who would have guessed the spell that hit him would fix itself?
"Jason?"
"You should've told him about the scars." He pointed toward his chest. "He didn't sleep a wink all night while his thoughts ate him alive." Jason stretched out an arm in silent invitation. "You should've told him he got kidnapped by a cult that wanted his organs. That would've been funny."
Tim let out a tired sigh. His entire body seemed to loosen as he crossed the room.
"The conversation didn't leave much time for that," he murmured, slipping his hand into Jason's. "And if I'd told him sooner, he would've had even more questions. I was trying not to overwhelm him."
Jason chuckled and tugged him forward until Tim settled onto his lap.
"Sorry to tell you this, sweetheart, but you failed a little at that." He pressed a kiss against the crown of Tim's head. "But he brought it on himself by asking questions."
"He was just as curious as you are." Tim lifted his head. "And maybe he thought knowing more would help his memory come back."
Jason tilted his head, amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"You couldn't just give him the good parts, sweetheart." His fingers brushed absently against Tim's side. "If he'd stayed, you wouldn't have been able to hide an entire life from him. Eventually, he would've found out."
"Maybe." Tim cupped his cheek. "But that didn't happen." His thumb brushed beneath Jason's eye. "You're back now. That's what matters."
Jason raised an amused eyebrow.
"Can I kiss you? I think Bruce would have a heart attack if he walked in and saw us."
Tim snorted, soft and fond. "We'll tell him when we see him."
He leaned closer. Close enough for Jason to feel the warmth of his breath.
"But it would be funny to torture the old man a little longer."
"Jay."
"Yeah?"
"Just shut up and kiss me." The corners of Tim's mouth twitched. "I missed you."
Jason didn't need to be told twice. He closed the distance and captured Tim's lips in a gentle kiss.
And maybe Bruce chose that exact moment to open the door. He stopped dead in the doorway, staring at both of them as though he expected an explanation.
One Jason had absolutely no intention of giving.
Just for fun.