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He didn't hear his name being called until Jason was literally an inch from his face.
Tim flinched back—hard. Well, not that hard. Harder than he normally would have, though, that's for sure.
The Wayne boys were all sprawled across the couches of The Manor, watching a movie. At least Tim thought they were. Apparently they paused it a while ago.
"Woah, Replacement, you alive?" Jason looked at him teasingly, using that stupid nickname he always likes to use to make Tim feel inferior.
It works.
He won't admit it, but it does.
At this point Jason wasn't even being malicious, and it was just a nickname. A habit. But for Tim it meant more than that. For Tim it was a reminder of everything Jason had ever done to him. Him and his sanity, that is. Well, more like the lack therefore of.
"I'm fine." Tim muttered, gesturing for Jason to get out of his face.
He knew Jason didn't actually care, so he didn't give him an actual answer. But he was fine... right? Right.
Jason moved back, but only slightly. "Sure, sure, tell that to those dark spots under your eyes."
Tim scoffed, looking away. "Just leave me alone. I said I was fine."
"Drake, don't be foolish." Damian tutted from the other side of the vast living room, "You are clearly having some form of issue."
That fucking brat. Tim should really be used to all his disrespectful comments by now, but of course he's not. He never will be, will he?
"I'm fine."
The words were the only thing said for a—not so solid—two seconds. Then Dick sighed and walked over to him, shoving Jason to the side.
The man gave Dick a rude hand gesture that Tim knew all too well, scoffing and walking off somewhere.
With the number of murderers in the room decreasing, Tim felt slightly better.
Dick smiled softly at Tim. "Did you get any sleep last night, Timmy?"
"Don't look at me like that."
Like you actually care.
"Sorry." Dick looked slightly lost. "I'm just trying to help."
"I don't need your help."
"Did you sleep or not, Drake?" Damian snapped, butting into Tim's business like he usually does.
"I did not." Tim finally muttered, now annoyed. "I've been working on that new Riddler case all night. I don't even know why I agreed to this movie anyways now that I'm thinking about it. I need to do more—"
"Tim." Dick looked... worried? "Please rest. Get some sleep and maybe a drink of water—or anything that's not caffeinated. The case can wait."
"I'm fine."
"First of all, you're not—"
"I am!" Tim stood up, more shakily than he would have liked, standing shoulder to eye with his older adoptive brother. "Stop bothering me."
Tim felt slightly bad using such cold words, but it was the only way Dick would actually listen to him.
Exactly like Tim had expected, Dick looked caught off guard, giving him the perfect opportunity to push past him.
Damian raised an eyebrow at him judgmentally as he left, and Tim tried his best to ignore him. It wasn't too hard of a task, especially considering the fact that Tim didn't really care anymore.
He made his way steadily across the foyers, stomping quickly yet softly up the stairs and to his bedroom. He opened the door and quickly spun around to lock it behind him, just in case someone decided to come and bother him again.
Tim let out a breath.
Finally alone.
He turned around to get back on his computer—maybe finally solve the stupid case—only to find Jason sitting on his bed. Holding the computer. The man held it carelessly with one hand, dangling it back and forth over the tile.
"Hey!" Tim quickly moved to unlock the door, that way he was less trapped. He spun back around and scowled, "Get out!"
Jason sighed over dramatically, "I don't think I will."
Tim walked over to him—hating the fact that he had to be alone in a room with Jason anyways—and made a grab for the device.
Of course, Jason moved it out of his reach.
Tim wasn't amused. "Could you quit it? I'm trying to—"
"Keel over and die?" Jason shook his head, "I mean, if you're into that, then go for it. But personally, not a great experience."
"Just stop." Tim tried and failed again to get his computer back. "I said I'm fine. How many times do I have to say it?!"
Jason finally moved off his bed, still holding the computer. "Sure, say you are fine. You still need sleep to function."
"I didn't say I was never going to sleep—"
"Eh, sure."
Tim wished he could punch the smirk right off his stupid face.
"Can you just let me work?"
"Three hours of sleep," Jason sidestepped past him, moving towards the door. "Then you can have your computer back."
"What?! I'm not a child, Jason. You can't take my—"
"Watch me." He flashed an evil looking grin, reaching for the door handle.
Tim wasn't an idiot. He wasn't going to try and stop him. But still, he wasn't happy about this—at all.
"Seriously." Tim took on a more begging tone. "Please. People are in danger. I need to look at it—"
"Tim."
Did he just call Tim by his actual name?
Jason noticed his surprise, and subtly corrected himself. "Replacement, I'll work on the stupid case for you while you rest, m'kay? That work?"
That would... actually help.
"Uh," Tim awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "I-I guess so."
"Perfect!" Jason opened the door and left. Right when Tim thought he was gone, he popped his head back in. "And if you use some sort of secret computer hidden in there, I'll actually trap you in a safe house for a week."
Tim's eyes widened.
Well, there goes that plan.
"Right." He managed. "I uh, understand."
Maybe Tim could rest. But only for a little bit. He was fine, after all.
"Coolio." Jason turned off the lights before closing the door.
Tim stood there in shock for a few seconds before finally crawling into bed. He didn't even get under the blankets before he was asleep.