Work Text:
Comfort space? —
The clock marked 11pm, the batcave sat in an unusual quietness on a patrol day. Set aside from the occasional sound of a mug setting down on the desk. Tim had spent the last seven hours gathering all the intel he had on a potential new threat to Gotham on Bruce's request.
Tim's once agile fingers now sluggishly typed on the keyboard, his heavy eyelids fighting to keep his eyes open. Even if his brain had already started short circuiting 4 hours ago.
“ugh..” Tim dropped his head forward with a tired grunt, feeling the coolness of the desk against his forehead as he closed his eyes.
Lifting his head just enough to allow for his hands to find their way to his face, slowly massaging his eyes.
“Master Timothy,”
If Tim had any energy left in his body he would've probably reached the top of the cave when Alfred's voice broke through the silence.
“You scared me Alfred..” Tim mumbled, pushing his bangs out of his eyes.
“Well then, perhaps it is time to wrap up work and get some rest Master Timothy.”
“I'm almost done…I was wishing I could finish this today…”
“I am sure you'll make up for it tomorrow Master Timothy, am I correct?” Alfred spoke as he extended a hand towards the elevator. “You have worked enough for today.”
Tim smiled tiredly tapping the off button on the batcomputer. And going willingly to bed at Alfred's request could only mean that Tim was indeed awake for way longer than his body could take. Pushing himself up from his chair, following Alfred to the elevator.
Once on the main floor of the mayor Tim could barely keep his thoughts from drifting away. He missed when Alfred had started talking again.
“–and I will have something prepared for you.”
Perhaps noticing the delay of a response Alfred simply smiled and pointed Tim to the stairs.
“Go rest dear” as Alfred disappeared towards the kitchen.
Going up the stairs was a bigger task than Tim had considered. For how long had he been awake for? He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he had woken up. Telling his legs to move up felt like hiking up to Mount Everest pike. By the time he made it, his stomach was ready to put every mug of coffee he'd had out. Okay it was bad, he'll admit it tomorrow after sleeping–Bruce and Alfred scolding him after he catches up on sleep won't make sense later right? Actually, reconsidering. He won't tell them that at all.
Going down the hall and opening the bedroom door. Well someone's room for sure, but definitely not his. Because unless he was hallucinating or suffering psychosis from severe lack of sleep, which wouldn't sound too crazy right now, there's no way his dark muted blue walls turned burgundy.
Wait, was someone talking?
“—rong room, kiddo.”
Alright never again. Promise no more 31hrs shift, his record though. Okay, fuck he needs to lay down.
Tim tried speaking but honestly it probably sounded way too cryptic to whoever was in the room with him. And he would be lying if he said that he remembered anything other than two arms wrapping around him and placing him on the bed.
It wasn't Alfred obviously, he was in the kitchen. Dick maybe? Was he in Gotham? Wait, what's the color of Dicks's room? Blue too? No, no is it beige? It's not green or yellow, that's for sure. Is this Jason's room? But he's not home, Tim would know if he was, he would've seen him come in. Bruce? Is Bruce back? But he had a long agenda today. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Stay down”
Someone pushed his forehead down against the pillow. Oh. Okay not Bruce then.
“How long you been up?”
The bed was surprisingly warm. “‘ot ‘uch”
“Right, ‘s not like you look half dead or anything”
Tim wishes he could've barked something back to whoever distant voice was speaking to him, but his mind had already started drifting even before his breathing evened out.
Cold. It was so cold. Tim doesn't usually wake up in the middle of the night, well when he sleeps anyway. But tonight was an exception, it was too cold to find a comfortable position. Wasn't the bed warm when he laid down? What the fuck happened with the heater?
“Quit movin’”
Tim's soul rightfully left his body before he physically inhaled it back in. Okay it was Jason, alright I mean it's not like he minds right? Considering he's still here. Yeah, yeah okay. He's in Jason's bed and Jason's okay with it, okay yeah. Yeah, he can do this.
“I'm cold..”
“Two heavy fuckin’ blankets and u're cold?”
Okay in his defense it was the end of autumn which meant yeah technically two blankets would suffice but it wasn't so yeah, two blankets and he's cold. So what?
“It's the heater on?”
“No”
“Why?”
“Cuz I run hot”
Like that means anything. “Well I don't.”
“You can leave.”
A beat. “Don't wanna.”
“Then quit complaining and moving.”
A moment of silence stretched for a couple of minutes, the room was so quiet that Tim assumed Jason had just gone right back to sleep. Ignoring him. It's fine. He didn't move, he didn't want to get kicked out–if he were to leave, which he won't, it would be because he wanted to and not because he wasn't welcomed. But he did complain, quietly.
“I can't sleep if I'm cold..”
That came out way whinier than Tim meant it. He didn't even mean for it to sound whiny, but it was fine. Jason was asleep. Totally fine. Except Jason sighed as he turned around, very much awake. And Tim had to hold every single muscle in his body to hold onto his dignity and his soul, because if it tried leaving again it probably wouldn't come back.
“Whining sits in the same category as complaining Tim”
Before Tim could even consider drowning himself in the shame of being whiny in front of someone other than Dick, he was pulled against Jason's chest. Okay now he knows where the warmth of the bed had gone.
“Now shut the fuck up and go to sleep”
Tim still moved around a little trying to find a comfortable position. Okay maybe he was pushing a little, but he needed to get adjusted. Jason wasn't lying, he did run hot. This time however Tim wasn't complaining at all, he really was cold.
“Timothy.”
“Sorry..”
Tim eventually found a comfortable position, snuggling his face against Jason's chest felt surprisingly safe. Jason's head sat comfortably on top of Tim's. It was fine, Tim could allow himself to be cuddled. By Jason. Would that be accurate? Cuddled? Even if Jason probably did it so Tim would let him sleep. Yeah. But honestly? Right now Tim couldn't give two fucks about it. He was warm, safe and snuggled. He could allow himself comfort for a night, right?
He could, just for one night.