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Summary
Jason's mouth went dry.
The kid was dreaming. And whatever was happening in that little bird-brain of his was making him squirm. Jason held perfectly still.
He should wake him up. He should cough, or shift, or do the decent fucking thing and pretend he hadn't noticed.
Tim moaned.
The sound hit Jason's bloodstream like a needle, because it wasn't just a moan, but a name, slurred by sleep but unmistakable.
"Jas'n."
Fuck.
Tim falls into the bay. Somehow, this is Jason's problem.