Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4224534.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DCU_(Comics), Batman_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Tim_Drake/Jason_Todd, Jason_Todd/Roy_Harper, Jason_Todd/Bruce_Wayne
  Character:
      Tim_Drake, Jason_Todd, Roy_Harper, Bruce_Wayne
  Additional Tags:
      Hooker_Fic, Alternate_Universe_-_Prostitution, Underage_Prostitution,
      Drug_Use, Past_Child_Abuse, nothing_terrible_happens_to_anyone_i_promise
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-06-28 Words: 11644
****** let's pause and add our own intentions ******
by ohmcgee
Summary
     “You’ve got a sweet face,” he says to the new kid. “It won’t stay
     that way.”
Notes
     Please heed the warnings/tags, but also be aware that despite the
     subject matter this is not an incredibly dark fic. You don't have to
     worry about anything terrible happening to any of them. It's mostly a
     'this is what they do when they're not hooking' kind of thing. Though
     there is a bit of that in there also. Anyway, I'll shut up now.
     Also, this is the longest thing I've ever written and the first thing
     I've ever written over 10k. *throws confetti on me*
Jason’s smoking when Roy walks up to him, some kid he doesn’t recognize
trailing behind him, hands stuck in his pockets and his head down. He looks
about twelve years old and Roy looks even more strung out than usual. He didn’t
come home last night.
“Found him on Robertson,” Roy says, stealing the cigarette out of Jason’s mouth
and taking a drag. Jason glares, not because he stole his smoke, but because
this is so Roy’s M.O., bringing home fucking strays. Jason still remembers the
last one, how he died with a needle in his arm.
“Come on, Jaybird. Robertson,” Roy says and it’s dirty pool is what it is.
Robertson’s where Dick found Roy, coked up and freezing and getting beat nearly
to death by the fucked up psycho johns that go there. It’s not a good place for
boys like them and Roy knows as soon as he says it that Jason’s going to fold.
He takes the cigarette back from Roy, takes a few more drags then kills it
under his boot.
“You’ve got a sweet face,” he says to the new kid. “It won’t stay that way.”
 
***
 
The new kid’s name is Tim Drake and he ran away because his parents something
something -- Jason doesn’t really pay attention to the sob stories, nor does he
generally share his own. There’s only one reason any of them are where they are
and it’s because life is fucked up. He doesn’t really need to know anything
more than that. But yeah, his name is Tim, he does not want to be called Timmy
(Jason finds this out the hard way, after Tim “accidentally” slams his fingers
in the door when he says “Hey Timmy, wait up.”), he's four months younger than
Jason, and he's surprisingly good at what he does.
Actually, Jason thinks, watching from down the street as a car approaches the
corner Tim and Roy are hanging out on, he doesn’t even really do anything. All
the little fucker does is stand there in his tight jeans and the shirt Jason
gave him that hangs off his shoulder a little, stick his hands in his pockets
and look all of twelve years old, maybe bats his big, pretty blue eyes at them
and that’s it.
It makes Jason kind of miss the days when he was smaller, before he grew into
himself and got taller, broader, bulked up despite living off pork and beans
most nights. It’s no secret people in Gotham are fucking degenerates and he got
so much more business when he was a tiny, weak looking thing, something they
thought they could throw around. These days he actually has to work for it. The
whole batting his eyelashes and fellating a tootsie pop used to work like a
charm, but nowadays he’s got to really put effort into it, talk shit for
fifteen minutes, wear his pants so tight it cuts the circulation off to his
dick. Yeah, Tim doesn’t know how easy he’s fucking got it.
Maybe that’s why Jason’s such an asshole to him. Or maybe it’s because Tim acts
like this is all completely normal, sucks some guy’s dick behind a dumpster and
walks back up to him and Roy, pops a lifesaver in his mouth and continues his
conversation with Roy about how they’re going to steal the neighbor's cable as
soon as they can afford a TV. It’s not right. Jason’s been doing this a lot
longer than he has, doesn’t even like to think about how old he was the first
time he gave some creep a handjob behind the Dairy Queen just so he could buy
his mom some soup, and there’s no way Tim’s been doing this as long as he has.
Jason figures it’s maybe been a few months top. So he’s either really, royally
fucked up or more dead inside than Jason is, which Jason wouldn’t wish on
anybody, really.
He talks to Dick about it one night, hanging out on their favorite rooftop over
the old, abandoned movie theater, sharing a chocolate shake from the diner
across the street, but Dick mostly shrugs it off.
“Everyone deals their own way,” he says, hanging upside down off the edge of
the roof. It used to make Jason nervous as fuck, but he’s mostly gotten used to
it over the years, especially once Dick told him how being up that high reminds
him of his family. Jason stopped saying anything after that, but he always
comes with Dick anyway, just to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.
“Besides,” Dick says. “You know, the thing with his parents.”
“Nah,” Jason says, leans back on his hands and tries to make out any stars
through the haze of city lights and smog. “What’s the deal there?”
Dick pulls himself up with his unbelievable fucking abs and sits down next to
Jason. “They didn’t hit him or anything,” Dick starts out. “But it sounds like
they didn’t even know he was there. Both of his parents had really busy jobs
and so he had a nanny for awhile when he was younger, but then the nanny quit
and like, his parents just forgot to hire a new one. And they go on business
trips all the time so he was just left alone, starving, because the only time
they ever ate at home was when they ordered take-out or the Nanny cooked. He
said he couldn't remember the last time either of them actually spoke to him.”
“Wow,” Jason says. “Poor little rich boy.”
“Don’t,” Dick says sharply. “Me and you, we had pretty decent parents until
they -- and that sucks, I know it does. But you don’t know what it was like for
him, being abandoned like that and being right in front of them.”
Jason shrugs. “So you think that’s what’s wrong with him then?”
Dick frowns. “I don’t think anything’s wrong with him, Jay.” And the
disapproval in his tone makes Jason feel like he’s twelve years old again, Dick
grabbing the back of his neck, saying we don’t steal from our own. “Just like I
don’t think there’s anything wrong with Roy. Or Wally.”
“Or me?”
Dick smiles, reaches over and ruffles Jay’s hair. “Or you.” Jason allows him to
pull him close for a minute, press his nose into Jason’s hair as they look out
across the horizon. “Just be nice to him, okay? He puts up a strong front, but
none of us really know what’s going on inside his head.”
“We don’t know anything about him,” Jason points out, worms out of Dick’s grasp
and sits up.
“No,” Dick says. “But there was a time I didn’t know anything about you.”
Jason knows that, in a sort of abstract way. But in so many ways his life
didn’t really start until Dick found him, starving and cold and so fucking
lonely he probably would’ve went with anyone. Or maybe it just started over.
“Plus,” Dick says. “I trust him.”
That’s really all Jason needs to hear.
 
***
 
After that Jason pays a little bit more attention to Tim, tries to get to know
him better. Dick doesn’t let just anyone into their little group after all and
if Dick trusts him that means Jason trusts him. That’s just how it works.
“So you really liked school, huh?” Jason says one afternoon. Tim has his nose
in an actual science textbook that he dug out of the garbage somewhere and a
twizzler hanging out of his mouth and Jason has this moment where he thinks he
shouldn’t be here. Tim should be in school, getting straight A’s on his
chemistry test, kissing girls and going to the homecoming parade. He shouldn’t
have to read a filthy book in his Goodwill jeans and hand-me-down shirt that’s
two sizes too big for him while they wait for the evening crowd to come around.
He really does have a sweet face.
“Just science, mostly,” Tim says and shuts the book, bites the end off his
twizzler. “And math, I guess. I really hated English.”
“I hated all of it,” Jason lies. He loved school, loved learning new things,
anything. There’s a stack of paperbacks in the closet in his room that no one
knows about but Dick.
Tim gives him a look that says he’s not sure if he believes him or not. He kind
of gives him that look a lot, but Jason can’t blame him. He lies a lot. Tim
opens his mouth to say something, but then he’s looking straight over Jason’s
shoulder and Jason turns, sees the guy walking down the alley and he’s just
Tim’s type, or the type that likes Tim anyway.
“All yours,” Jason says and grabs a Dum-Dum from his pocket, unwraps it and
pops it in Tim’s mouth, fucks his hair up a little and sends him on his way.
The thing is, Jason had some kind of misplaced resentment for Tim when he
showed up, still doesn’t quite get him, but man, he kind of loves to watch him
do his thing, loves watching the way his tiny little hips move when he’s
walking up to them, the way he drags the sucker over his plush bottom lip as he
talks them into it. Jason sees it the moment Tim has the guy hooked, the way
the john’s eyes just sort of glaze over, how he wets his mouth as he stares at
Tim like he can’t wait to get a taste. Tim’s a scrawny thing, in that kind of
awkward phase where he’s mostly knees and elbows, but Jason gets it. There’s
just something about him that makes you want to make bad decisions.
“Mm, don’t do that,” Roy says next to him and Jason realizes he has no idea how
long he’s been standing there but the cigarette in his mouth is half gone, so
probably a good bit.
“Do what?” Jason asks, leaning down to pick Tim’s book off the ground.
“You know what,” Roy says. “Dickie wouldn’t like it.”
“I honestly don’t know what you’re fucking talking about,” Jason says and Roy
just rolls his eyes, passes him the cigarette.
“I know that look,” Roy says. “I know it because I was on the receiving end of
it once, if you don’t remember. Right before you dragged me down that alley and
sucked my dick so good I wanted to pay you.”
“You’re a tactless prick,” Jason says, blowing smoke out the corner of his
mouth. “And I’m not going to fuck Tim, so drop it.”
“Good,” Roy says. “Because Dick --”
Jason doesn’t hear the rest because he’s too busy shoving Roy up against the
brick and sticking his tongue down his throat. “What about this?” He asks,
getting his hand down Roy’s pants to jerk him off, hard and fast before anyone
else comes their way. “What would Dick say about this?”
“Fuck,” Roy pants, hips working as he fucks Jason’s fist. “Who cares.”
“Exactly,” Jason says and covers Roy’s mouth when he comes, makes him lick his
come off his fingers then kisses him as he zips him back up. “You should give
your bed to Tim tonight,” he says.
“And why would I do that?” Roy asks.
By some chance of fate Roy ended up with the biggest, nicest mattress out of
all of them. Since Tim was the last to show up he sleeps on the couch most
nights and Jason really does feel for him. That couch is a nightmare.
“Because,” Jason says. “You’re gonna be in mine.”
 
***
 
“Thanks,” Tim says the next morning while they’re eating breakfast, scrambled
eggs and some toast that Jason had to cut the mold off of. “For letting me
sleep in your bed. I think that couch has it in for me.”
“No problemo,” Roy grins with a mouthful of egg, swallows it down with some
juice. “Jay’s is big enough for the two of us.”
“So are you guys,” Tim says a little awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. It’d be
hilarious if it wasn’t kind of sad, the fact that he can whore himself out but
he can’t deal with personal questions. “Like, boyfriends?”
Roy chokes on his toast he starts laughing so hard and Jason just rolls his
eyes, pours him more juice.
Jason and Roy, they’re not really a thing. Except sometimes they are. They’re
there for each other in ways that Dick can’t be sometimes. When Roy gets messed
up and spends his day’s work on blow, ends up passed out in the back of a club
somewhere, he calls Jason because he doesn’t want Dick to see him like that.
And when Jason gets burnt out, doesn’t think he can fucking do this anymore,
about to snap on the next asshole that tells him he has a pretty mouth, Roy is
right there, curling up next to him in his bed and telling him pretend stories
about the lives they don’t have. Jason’s favorite is the_one_where_Roy’s_the
lead_singer_in_a_band_and_Jason’s_a_pastry_chef. It’s funny because he does
love to cook, even if he has to do it on a hot plate.
But they’re nothing like boyfriends. Roy doesn’t look at him with hearts in his
eyes like he does with Dick, never wants to hold his hand or talk about his
feelings, and it’s perfect. With the exception of Dick, Jason turned off the
part of him that feels things for people when he started letting strange men
stick their dick in him for money. Roy’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a
best friend and he’d do just about anything for him, but that’s where it stops
and Roy knows that. Plus, Roy’s got a truckload of his own issues, so it kind
of evens out. It works.
“No,” Jason says because Roy’s still laughing, or choking, one of the two.
“We’re not.”
And that’s that. He doesn’t owe Tim any kind of explanation and Tim doesn’t
look like he even needs one, so that’s where the conversation ends.
After breakfast they go to the thrift store down the block and pool their money
together to get a TV that looks like it could have been brand new when Reagan
was in office. Before they leave Jason buys a new pair of pants and one for
Roy, too, because the asshole will wear the same pair every single day if you
let him.
When they get home Jason makes lunch while Tim and Roy fuck around with wires
and cables and Jason’s not shocked at all when they finally get a picture on
the TV, even if it is a little scrambled. Roy’s a fucking genius when he’s not
getting stoned out of his mind and apparently Tim’s not far behind. They’d
actually make a pretty good pair, Jason thinks as he watches them on the floor,
talking animatedly in what sounds like a foreign language to Jason’s ear, if
Tim seemed at all interested in him.
Tim doesn’t seem very interested in anyone is the thing. Not even Dick, and
Jason’s seen totally straight guys walk up to Dick and hand over wads of cash
just to be able to touch him. Tim hasn’t so much as checked out Dick’s ass,
hasn’t stared at Roy’s mouth the way everyone stares at Roy’s mouth. And the
more Jason thinks about it the more he wonders if maybe that’s why Tim’s able
to do the things they do without it affecting him any. They all have their
little ways of coping; Roy has his drugs, Dick has his rooftops, and Jason has,
well, more sex. But Tim, Tim doesn’t even act like he needs a coping mechanism
and its fucking unsettling. He’s shown no interest in the past three months in
Dick or Roy or anyone else at all and Jason has to wonder if there’s something
missing inside of him, if the way his parents neglected him fucked him up so
bad he can’t even make a connection anymore, and Jason gets so pissed off
thinking about it that he just gets up and goes out on the fire escape to
smoke, paces the whole time he’s out there.
He barely even startles when Dick drops down out of nowhere, too preoccupied in
his own dark thoughts.
“Hey little wing,” he says, calling Jason by the nickname he gave him right
after he found him, told him he was gonna take him under his wing, keep him
safe. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Jason says. He doesn’t much feel like talking right now and the
thing he loves about Dick is that he gets that, knows when Jason needs to be
left alone and given his space, or when he needs Dick to pull him in and ruffle
his hair. This time it’s the former and Dick picks up on that immediately, just
touches Jason’s shoulder for a second before he climbs back in the window.
“Hey, I didn’t know we could get cable!” Jason hears Dick yell when he gets
inside and shakes his head, smiling in spite of himself.
After a few minutes the window opens again and Tim crawls out of it, joins him
on the fire escape.
“Want?” Jason asks, offering him the cigarette he’d just had between his lips,
but Tim shakes his head. Jason shrugs and takes another drag. One of the things
he likes about Tim is that unlike Roy or Dick, they can just sit together in
comfortable silence without filling it with useless rambling. Sometimes that’s
great and all, Roy’s stories are usually hilarious and he can listen to Dick
talk about anything most of the time, but sometimes it’s nice to just share the
quiet, nothing expected of you.
They sit like that for Jason doesn’t know how long, Jason chain smoking and Tim
dangling his legs off the side, watching people walk down the streets and cars
pass by until Tim says, “I need your help with something.”
Jason freezes. The last time someone said something like that to him it was Roy
and Jason nearly got his head shot off by a pissed off dealer.
Still, for some reason he says, “Yeah, okay. What’s up?”
“I need to break into my house,” Tim says and Jason blinks.
“You want to go home?” It makes sense, he guesses. It’s probably a much nicer
place than he and Dick and Roy have, even if his parents don’t give a shit
about him. And he wouldn’t have to --
“No,” Tim says. “No. I just want to get something.”
“Oh,” Jason says, and he swallows down the weird lump in his throat.
“I tried before, on my own, but they changed the locks. I couldn’t get in.”
Wow, Jason thinks. What fucking pieces of work. Any other parents, they’d have
Tim’s picture on the side of a milk carton, posters with his face on it tacked
up everywhere. They sure as hell wouldn’t have locked him out. He’s starting to
feel that rage eat at him again so he lights another cigarette. He’s lost count
how many he’s had in the last hour.
“Roy said you were good at that kind of thing.”
“Geeze,” Jason laughs. “It’s not like I go around robbing people or anything.”
“Jason,” Tim says and Jason swears he rolls his eyes. “We’re hookers. I
wouldn’t judge if you did.”
This kid, he swears. “Okay,” Jason says. “Yeah, I can do it probably. What are
we looking for?”
Tim looks away, bites his lip. “A camera.”
“Huh,” Jason says. “Must be some fancy camera. How much you think you’ll get
for it?”
“Huh?”
“You’re gonna pawn it, right?”
Tim looks horrified. “What? No. I just. I just want it, okay?”
Jason holds his hands up. “Yeah, of course,” he says. He feels like an asshole
all of a sudden and he doesn’t even know why. “We’ll go tomorrow night, that
cool?”
“Yeah,” Tim says. “Thanks, Jason. And um, don’t tell Dick?”
Dick and I don’t keep secrets, Jason thinks, has told Roy and Wally countless
times, but this time he just nods, says, “Sure, whatever,” and watches Tim slip
back in the apartment through the window. He stays outside until it gets dark
and the mosquitoes start to bother him, walks in to find Dick with Roy’s head
in his lap on the couch watching Mythbusters, Tim on the floor on his belly
with his nose in a book.
“You dumbasses even eat yet?” he asks, them and Dick just grins up at him.
“Come on, Jay. You know we don’t know how to cook.”
“Ramen noodles is not cooking,” Jason points out, but he fills the boiler with
water anyway, leans against the counter as he waits for the water to boil. TV
never really interested him so he watches Tim instead, the way he pulls his
bottom lip between his teeth when he turns the page, the way his too-long hair
keeps falling in his face. He’s not conventionally attractive like Dick, can’t
pull off sex on a stick like Roy can when he actually puts in the effort, but
he’s fucking beautiful in his own way, all sharp angles and pale skin, soft
eyes and hair that always looks like someone’s had their hands in it.
The bitch of the thing is, Roy was right when he said he knew that look.
Jason’s wanted to get his hands on Tim since pretty much the day he showed up.
But he hasn’t and he won’t. For some reason Dick doesn’t want him going there
and honestly the kid’s so fucked up Jason’s not even sure he wants to wade
through all that baggage. He’s got enough of his own; they all do.
“Water’s boiling,” Roy pipes up. “Hey, make the shrimp kind.”
“Fuck you,” Jason says. “You’re getting chicken and you’re going to like it.”
“Heh,” Roy says. “I like it when he’s bossy.”
Out of the corner of his eyes Jason sees Tim look up and blush. Blush.
Seriously, what kind of kid who sucks dick for a living even remembers how to
blush anymore? Jason’s never going to figure him out and it’s driving him
crazy.
“Alright you lazy fucks,” Jason says as he turns off the hot plate. “Your
gourmet meal is served.”
“Thanks, Jay,” Dick says, hand on his back as he squeezes by him to grab a
bowl.
“Yeah, thanks Jaybird,” Roy says and leans in, probably means to get Jason’s
cheek but kisses the corner of his mouth instead, decides to linger there for a
second, slip his tongue in Jason’s mouth until Jason pushes him away, laughing.
When Jason looks back down at Tim he’s staring at them, forehead wrinkled like
he’s thinking too hard.
“You want some?” Jason asks because he doesn’t get why Tim’s looking at him
like that. “I can get you a bowl or --”
“No thanks,” Tim says, closes his book up and crawls off the floor. “Not
hungry.”
“Huh,” Roy says after Tim walks out, standing in the kitchen and slurping his
noodles down like he was raised in a fucking barn or something. “What’s his
deal?”
“When you find out let me know,” Jason mutters, and he heads back to his room.
 
***
 
They have to take three buses to get to Tim's house and when they finally get
there Jason just stops and stares.
"You're fucking with me, right?"
The whole neighborhood creeps Jason out with its perfectly landscaped lawns and
beige paint and matching mailboxes. Tim's house is the two story kind that
looks like a dollhouse with a matching two car garage, the kind of house Jason
used to dream up in his head.
"You left this?" he says, ignoring Dick in his head telling him he doesn’t know
the whole story, not to judge. But it’s hard not to when he would’ve killed to
live someplace like this growing up, to live in a neighborhood with friends his
own age, run out to meet the icecream truck on Saturdays without being afraid
of getting mugged or worse.
"Yeah," is all Tim says. "You would have, too."
Jason's not so sure about that, but he follows Tim around to the back of the
house, pulls the tool Roy gave him out of his pocket and jimmies the door open,
letting Tim go in first.
“So how’d you know they wouldn’t be home?” he asks, pulling a flashlight out of
his pocket.
“Huh?” Tim says. He looks about three shades paler than he usually does, which
is pretty disconcerting, as he’s usually pretty ghostly looking. “Oh. They
always go to the Hamptons the third week of June.”
Jason whistles low. “The Hamptons, christ. What’s it like?”
Tim takes the flashlight out of his pocket and switches it on. “How would I
know,” he mutters and starts walking upstairs.
Jason shines his light on the walls as they walk upstairs. There’s a neat row
of pictures frames, like something you’d see in a Pottery Barn catalogue, and
he looks and looks, but doesn’t see Tim in any of them.
“My room’s down at the end,” Tim’s says and Jason follows him inside, runs
right into Tim’s back when Tim comes to a dead stop right after he walks
inside. Jason shines his light around to have a look, figures Tim must have
picked the wrong room or something because there’s nothing in here, just carpet
and walls, which look like they’ve had a fresh coat of paint applied to them
recently.
“It’s gone,” Tim says quietly and lowers his flashlight. “It’s all gone.”
It hits Jason like a brick to the gut. Tim didn’t pick the wrong room, this was
his room. This was his room and they got rid of all his stuff, got rid of any
trace of him whatsoever. There’s no pictures of him, no nothing. Jason’s so
angry he wants to put his fist through the wall, almost does.
“Hey,” he says instead, touching Tim’s shoulder cautiously. “Maybe they just
packed it up or something. Put your stuff in boxes in the attic or --”
“I want to go now,” Tim says and Jason’s insides twist up at how fucking broken
he sounds. He’s trying to be calm, trying to hold it together, but Jason knows
what broken sounds like, can hear the wavering in Tim’s voice that says he’s
either about to start crying or screaming or both. “Can we go now please?”
“Yeah,” Jason says. “Let’s get out of here.”
 
***
 
Tim’s quieter than usual on the bus ride back, which is pretty unsettling. Even
on a normal day Tim’s so quiet that Jason sometimes forgets he’s even there,
head stuck in a book or drawing on some scratch paper, but this is just
different somehow. He’s just staring blankly out the window, hands folded
neatly in his lap, and Jason would give anything to know what’s going on in
that head of his right now, but also thinks it might be dangerous if he did.
Seeing that house, the pictures of Tim’s mom and dad happy and smiling
together, no trace of Tim in their life whatsoever, it makes Jason want to
track them down and do things Dick would be disappointed in him for.
They’re coming up on 5th and Lincoln when Jason gets an idea, flags the driver
to tell her they’re getting off.
“Come on,” he says, dragging Tim off the bus by his arm and out onto the
bustling sidewalk. He pulls Tim behind him as they weave through people, down a
few back alleys, then sneaks Tim into the same movie theater Dick snuck him in
years ago after Jason had his first breakdown.
“What are we doing?” Tim asks as Jason slips them in through the back door,
covers Tim’s mouth with his hand as an usher walks around the corner.
“Okay,” he says when the coast is clear. “Come on.”
He drags Tim into the closest theater and they grab a seat in the very back.
The credits have just started rolling on the ten o’clock show, whatever it is.
They didn’t really have the luxury of being choosy.
“Hey,” he says to Tim, grinning. “Sit tight. I”ll be right back.”
“But --” Tim starts but Jason’s already skipped off down the aisle and out the
big double doors.
He slides back into his seat next to Tim about fifteen minutes later with food
and drinks, his grin wild and bright even in the darkness of the theater.
“Movie theater food is expensive.” Tim looks at him suspiciously. “How’d you
afford all that?”
“With my charm,” Jason grins. “Now eat your popcorn and hush, movie’s
starting.”
He doesn’t tell Tim he gave the douchebag in the Ed Hardy shirt and a gallon of
Axe body spray behind the counter a handjob in the bathroom for a pack of
Goobers and some sodas, figures the kid’s had enough to deal with today.
When the opening credits start to roll Jason sees Tim smile for the first time
that day and the sick feeling in his stomach ever since he saw what used to be
Tim’s room subsides just a bit. “I love this movie,” Tim says as the opening
credits of Star Wars roll, sticking his hand in the bucket of popcorn.
“Yeah,” Jason says, watching Tim instead of the movie. “Me, too.”
 
***
 
“So,” Roy says after breakfast the next morning, right after Tim and Dick leave
to go check in on Wally and Vic, see if they need anything. “Sounds like Tim
enjoyed your date.”
Jason looks up from the book in his hand and shoots Roy a glare. “It wasn’t a
date.”
“Movie, popcorn, sounds like a date to me.” Roy gives him a toothy grin, slaps
the paperback out of Jason’s hands. “Thought you weren’t going there, Jaybird.”
“I’m not,” Jason snaps, hands bracketing Roy’s hips when Roy’s throws a leg
over and straddles his lap. “I was just trying to get him out of his fucked up
headspace after we went to his house.”
Roy quirks an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t care.”
“I don’t,” Jason says, then, “Fuck. You didn’t see that house, Roy. They just -
- they fucking erased his whole existence. They don’t even care that he’s gone.
Fuck, I think they’re glad.”
Roy shrugs, leans in and kisses the underside of Jason’s jaw, drags his tongue
over the little bristles of stubble there. “People are assholes,” he says.
“Doesn’t matter how smart you are, how much you worship them. You fuck up one
time and they kick your ass out on the street like you’re nothing.”
“Roy…” Jason says but Roy just shakes it off, grinds his hips against Jason’s
and Jason reaches up and brushes the hair out of his eyes, sees how dilated
they are and frowns. “Jesus Christ, it’s not even ten in the morning.”
“Come on, Jay,” Roy whines, rocking in Jason’s lap. Jason has no idea what he’s
on this time but judging by how hard and horny he is right now it’s probably
some form of ecstasy.
“Timmy and Dickie’ll be gone for an hour at least,” Roy says, reaches down and
pulls his shirt off, then Jason’s, licks his lips. “And I wanna be loud.”
 
***
 
When Tim and Dick get back Roy’s still in Jason’s bed sleeping off whatever
shit he popped earlier and Jason’s sitting back against the headboard reading.
He hears Dick shout something at Tim, then there’s a knock on Jason’s door that
has to be Tim because no one else in the apartment would do something that
ridiculous.
“Yeah,” Jason says. “I’m decent.” Which isn’t strictly true, he never really
got around to putting any pants back on after he tired Roy out, but there’s a
sheet covering his dick, so he figures that’s good enough.
“Just me,” Tim says as he opens the door. “Dick wanted me to -- oh. Sorry.”
“For?” Jason asks, then follows Tim’s gaze down to Roy’s bare ass sticking out
from under the covers. “Oh, don’t mind him. He abandoned shame long before you
came around. What’s up?”
Jason listens to Tim stutter out how Dick just wanted to know if he knew where
the blow dryer was and tries not to be fascinated by the pink blush high on
Tim’s cheeks, how he keeps trying to look anywhere but at Jason’s bed. It’s
absolutely ridiculous and Jason can’t help but wonder if that’s the only place
he blushes or if it goes down his neck too, if it spreads out across his chest
the way Roy’s does when he’s about to come.
“Yeah,” Jason says. “But it’s -- oh, I’ll just get up and show him.”
He throws his legs off the bed and finds his jeans, pulls them up without
bothering to look for his underwear, and when he turns around Tim’s already run
off.
He helps Dick find the blow dryer, which is under the bathroom sink where it
always is, and makes a grilled cheese for lunch.
“So, how was the Speedster?” Jason asks and Dick gives him a look, but Jason
mostly ignores it. Wally does so much speed no one can ever tell if he’s high
or not, just in this permanent state of gogogo that drives Jason crazy. He can
barely stand to be in the same room with him the way he bounces off the walls
and talks ninety to nothing all the time.
“Good,” Dick says, but Jason can tell he’s lying, or at least sugar coating it,
but he doesn’t ask, doesn’t actually care if he’s being completely honest.
They’ve got their own shit to worry about, especially with Tim now, but Dick’s
the superhero, just has to stick his nose around and try to help everybody. He
wasn’t jaded early on like Jason was, still doesn’t realize, even with what
they do, that you can’t save everybody. One of these days Dick’s good-hearted
nature is going to come back and bite him on the ass. But it’s okay because
when that happens Jason will be right there, ready to do the things that Dick
can’t.
 
***
 
That night’s pretty slow so Roy fucks off early, probably headed to Jade’s
because he doesn’t have enough crazy in his life apparently, and after thirty
minutes of no one even looking their way Jason suggests he and Tim do the same.
“You go ahead,” Tim says, fingering a hole in his jeans. “I bet somebody would
come up as soon as we left. Besides, rent’s due next week, we need the money.”
And the thing is, Jason’s tired and hungry and he wants nothing more than to
eat a shitty bowl of off-brand ravioli and crawl in his bed and pass the fuck
out, but he’s not about to let Tim hang out here by himself. So he digs a pack
of cards out of his back pocket and sits down on the concrete next to him,
crosses his legs.
“Blackjack or Go Fish?” he asks, shuffling the cards. “Those are the only two I
know.”
“That’s just sad, Jason,” Tim laughs and takes the deck of cards from him,
starts shuffling. “I’ll teach you how to play poker.”
“How did you learn to play?” Jason asks conversationally as he scoops up his
cards and holds them in front of him.
Tim does the same, brushes the hair out of his eyes and Jason remembers how he
really needs to take the clippers to it. “Um, my dad used to have a poker night
every Thursday. I wasn’t allowed to come downstairs while they had people over,
but sometimes I’d leave my door cracked a little bit and I could hear what they
were saying. It was easy enough to pick up.”
Jason kind of wishes he hadn’t asked.
Tim’s a pretty decent teacher, definitely knows his stuff, but by the third
round he’s figured Jason out.
“You’re hustling me!” he says, shoving Jason's shoulder. “You jerk, you totally
know how to play poker.”
Jason laughs. “Not technically hustling,” Jason says. “I mean, it’s not like we
were waging anything.”
Tim chews on his bottom lip and his forehead gets that little wrinkle in it
like it does when he’s thinking about something, and Jason really hates that he
knows that, that he spends so much time looking at Tim’s face that he knows all
his mannerisms, knows that there’s a little spot on his bottom lip that never
heals because he worries it so much “We could,” Tim says. “We could bet chores
and stuff. Ooh --” He pulls a bag of Skittles out of his jacket and pours some
into his hand, then into Jason’s.
“See, I raise you,” he says, putting a green skittle on the pavement in front
of him. “Dishes for the week.”
“Ooh, that’s steep,” Jason grins and pops a red skittle in his mouth.
He doesn’t let Tim win the next round, but he still gets his ass kicked, ends
up with dishes, vacuuming, and hanging the laundry up on the line. It’s pretty
impressive.
“You totally cheated,” Jason says and Tim looks so offended that it makes him
laugh, makes Jason forget what he’s doing and grab Tim’s wrist, eat all the
skittles out of the palm of his hand.
Tim just clears his throat and starts shuffling the cards again, wipes his hand
on his jeans. He’s on the fifth little shuffling trick when he says, “I don’t
understand why you lied to me.”
Jason raises his eyebrow.
“About Roy,” Tim adds and honestly Jason’s just more confused now.
“Oh. When did I lie about Roy?’
“When you said you weren’t boyfriends,” Tim says, doing this fancy bridge trick
with the cards.
“Yeah well that wasn’t a lie,” Jason tells him. “We aren’t.”
Tim looks up, confusion wrinkling his forehead. “But you’re always together.
And...”
“Fucking?”
“Yeah,” Tim says. “And kissing.”
Jason runs his fingers through his hair. It never ceases to amaze him how this
kid sells his ass on a street corner and is still as fucking naive about life
as he is.
“Look,” he says. “Roy and me...we just.” Sometimes he doesn’t even know how to
explain what he and Roy are. “Yeah, we do that stuff. And I care about him, you
know? He’s my best friend. But it’s just not like that.”
“Oh,” Tim says. “What is it --” But he doesn’t get to finish his question,
looking over Jason’s shoulder at the guy walking toward them. He’s got dark
hair and green eyes, wearing a suit like he just came from an office uptown and
a watch that could probably pay their rent for the next three months at least.
He’s looks decent enough and Jason’s stomach has been rumbling for the last
half hour so he lets Tim take this one, watches them walk away until Tim gets
into the guy’s car and they drive off, smokes two cigarettes back to back, then
heads back to the apartment.
 
***
 
The three of them are on the couch, Roy’s head in Dick’s lap and his feet in
Jason’s while they watch some stupid reality show about people who have more
kids than they have sense when Jason hears a key turning in the door, cranes
his head back to see Tim walk in, a storm in his eyes.
“Hey Timmy,” Roy says, which Jason wants to point out is really not going to
improve his mood any. “How’s tricks?”
Tim says nothing, just walks into the kitchen, grabs an orange soda from the
fridge, then slams the door and crawls out the window.
Jason gives him a few minutes, then shoves Roy’s legs out of his lap and grabs
two beers out of the fridge, climbs out the window to join Tim on the fire
escape.
“Look like you need something a little harder,” he says, offering Tim one of
the bottles and Tim takes it but he doesn’t open it yet, just sits it between
his legs and keeps staring out across the street. “Wanna tell me what
happened?”
Tim looks over at him. “Why do you think something happened?”
“Because,” Jason says. “I’ve known you about three months now and I don’t think
I’ve ever seen you this pissed off. So --” Then it hits him and he feels like a
fucking asshole for not thinking of it already, feels his insides twist into
knots. “Tim, that guy -- he didn’t --”
Tim just laughs, something bitter and hollow. “Worse,” he says, finally
twisting the cap off the beer, bringing it up to his mouth. “He tried to save
me.”
Jason barks out a laugh to cover up the sigh of relief he wants to let out,
tilts his beer back and drains half of it in one go. “Richard Gere type, huh?
I’ve had my fair share of those. Did he at least buy you a pretty dress?”
This, at least, gets Tim to crack a smile. “Nah,” he says. “I think I would’ve
liked to go to the opera though.”
Jason laughs again, surprised at how easy and natural it feels around Tim now,
and they drink in silence for a few minutes, a police siren and the bass from a
passing car’s stereo system filling the air until Tim finishes off his beer,
drops it down into the dumpster below.
“It’s just,” Tim says and he’s a little bit louder now, a little more animate,
and Jason smiles a little, wonders if maybe that was the first beer he’s ever
had. “I’m just sick of it, you know? Everybody looks at me like I’m made of
fucking porcelain.”
Now Jason definitely knows he’s pissed. He’s known Tim for three months and
he’s never heard him swear before, not even when Roy wouldn’t stop singing
Barbie Girl for three weeks straight.
“I know what Dick says about me when he thinks I can’t hear. I know why he
doesn’t want you getting close to me,” Tim says. “He thinks I’m too damaged. He
thinks I’ll shatter and you’ll break into pieces with me.”
Jason doesn’t know what to say. Dick hasn’t even given him a reason why he
doesn’t want him getting involved with Tim, just shoots him disapproving looks
when he catches Jason watching Tim while he sketches, keeps finding creative
ways to keep them from working at the same time. He’d never really thought
about it much before now, but what Tim says makes sense. The way Tim says
everyone looks at him, that’s the way Dick looked at Jason for the longest time
and Tim’s right, it’s fucking awful. Dick’s always scared he’s going to break
again and that the next time he won’t be able to put him back together.
“Everybody treats me like I don’t know what I’m doing,” Tim keeps on. “Do you
know how long I was working Robertson before I met Roy?” he asks. “Two years.”
And that’s, wow -- Jason had no idea Tim had been doing this for so long. He
kind of feels like an asshole for never asking.
“I can take care of myself,” Tim says and it almost sounds like a mantra,
something he might have been saying to himself for years. “I always have. I
don’t need anybody.”
“Yeah,” Jason says and hands Tim the rest of his beer, figures he needs it more
than he does right now. “I’m starting to get that.”
Tim turns the bottle up. “I know exactly what I gave up, Jason,” he says. “And
maybe you don’t think I should have but --”
Jason doesn’t think -- just cups the back of Tim’s neck and kisses him, tastes
warm beer and the slight hint of cherry chapstick. Tim leans into him, grabs
the front of Jason’s shirt and parts his mouth, and that’s when the smoke
detector starts to go off.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Jason mutters, cranes his head back to look inside and
see Dick trying to scrape a burnt tortilla off the fucking hot plate, Roy just
sitting on the edge of the counter and watching it all go down.
“Go,” Tim says and his cheeks are a pretty shade of pink but that probably has
to do with the alcohol more than anything else, Jason thinks. “Before they burn
the house down.”
“Yeah,” Jason says and when he wets his mouth he tastes cherries. “Guess I
better.”
He’s going to kill Dick Grayson.
 
***
 
After breakfast the next morning Jason decides it’s about time they all get
haircuts, so he digs out the clippers and drags a barstool in the middle of the
room with a sheet under it. Dick and Tim have to manhandle Roy onto the stool
and Jason has to threaten to hide his stash of vicodin if he doesn’t sit still,
and even then Roy only lets him trim off a few of the more scraggly bits before
he’s bolting off the stool, threatening Jason’s balls if he tries to come at
him with the scissors again.
After he finishes with Tim and Dick, Jason lets Tim trim him up while Roy and
Dick bitch over who ate the last fuckin’ swiss roll.
“Hey, what are you doing today?” Tim asks over their shouting and Jason shrugs,
shivers when Tim flicks some loose hair from the back of his neck with his
fingers.
“I was thinking of going to the library,” he says. “ I’ve read everything here
a dozen and a half times.”
Besides, it’s hot as blazes and the A/C in the apartment is on the fritz, so
the library would be a nice and cool place to hang out for a little while,
waste some time before they have to go out and work later that night.
“Oh cool,” Tim says and runs his fingers through Jason’s hair to gather it up.
“Okay if I tag along?”
“Yeah, sure,” Jason says as Roy knocks over a lamp trying to get out of Dick’s
choke hold. “Sounds good.”
He grabs a shower before they leave to wash off all the little bits of hair,
pulls on one of Dick’s old Sex Pistols t-shirts and a pair of torn jeans, and
they head out. It’s not that far and Jason hates taking the bus so they walk
all the way there, stopping once to help a woman with a toddler figure out how
to get her stroller to open up.
Once they get there they split up. Jason heads to the classics and Tim says
something about art books, and they do their own thing for a while. Jason finds
a nice corner with no one else around and leans up against the wall, loses
himself in The Bell Jar for who knows how long until Tim slinks down the wall
next to him, their knees bumping together.
“Sylvia Plath, huh?” Tim asks. “Cheery.”
“Hey,” Jason says. “Don’t knock my girl Sylvia. She knows what’s up.”
Tim just grins, leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. He
looks so different to Jason suddenly, so calm and peaceful and so beautiful it
hurts Jason to look at him. It’s not fair, he thinks, that the most beautiful
people are often the most broken ones.
“I love the smell of books,” Tim says, then he turns his smile onto Jason and
makes Jason completely lose his train of thought. “Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Jason says and it’s true, he’s always loved coming to the library,
breathing in the smell of old paper and ink, running his fingers along the
spines of every single book, but it's not the books he’s fascinated with right
now. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about last night on the fire escape
no matter how hard he tries. He can still taste cherry chapstick when he licks
his lips, still remembers how soft and pliant Tim’s mouth was against his, and
he --
“You want to kiss me again,” Tim says and Jason tears his gaze away from Tim’s
mouth and up to his eyes.
“Yeah,” he says, because there’s no point in trying to hide it. “Probably
shouldn’t though.”
“Oh,” Tim says, sounding a little disappointed, and Jason hates how that makes
his pulse race a little. “That sucks. I’ve always wanted to make out in the
stacks.”
“Well,” Jason says, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back the grin that
wants to split open his face. “Pretty blonde right over there in the foreign
poetry section, looks a bit slutty. Bet you could talk her into it.”
Tim rolls his eyes, takes the book out of Jason’s hand and sets it next to him.
“Not really into blondes,” he says.
Then he’s kneeling on the carpet, threading his fingers through Jason’s hair
and dragging him in, swiping his tongue over Jason’s lips, and Jason lets out a
sigh when he parts his mouth, grabs Tim around his tiny waist and drags him
into his lap, cups the back of his neck and kisses him the way he’s been
thinking about doing for far too long. Tim makes soft little noises when Jason
licks into his mouth and flattens his hand out across Tim’s back, fucks his
tongue down Tim’s throat, then Tim shifts until he’s straddling Jason and Jason
forgets where they are, or he just doesn’t care. He moves his mouth down Tim’s
jaw and kisses his neck, sucks a pretty, half dollar size bruise on his throat
as Tim grabs at the already stretched out collar of Jason’s shirt, making the
most indecent, breathy noises as Jason scrapes his teeth over his skin. Jason’s
completely gone, unaware of anything that isn’t Tim’s mouth, Tim’s body rocking
against him, and he’s sliding his hand up the back of his shirt when he hears
someone clear their throat.
“Out,” the librarian says. “The both of you. I don’t want to see either of you
in here again.”
Tim and Jason run out of the library laughing, the hot air hitting them like a
wall as soon as they exit, then Tim’s grabbing Jason’s hand and dragging him
across the street, grinning like Jason’s never seen him do before, and it must
be contagious because Jason can’t stop doing the same thing.
“It’s too hot,” Tim says, grinning wildly, and jumps in the big fountain in the
middle of the square, clothes and all, splashes Jason until he gets in with
him.
When they finally get home they’re still dripping, Jason’s shirt soaked so much
it’s practically see through.
“Did it rain?” Roy asks and Jason can’t stop the grin from breaking out on his
face this time.
“Something like that.”
 
***
 
“So you and Tim,” Dick says at the drugstore later, about an hour before
they’re going to head out. He’d said they needed to pick up some things, but
Jason’s starting to think he just wanted to get him alone so he could
interrogate him. “That’s a thing that’s happening, huh?”
“We just went to the library, Dick,” Jason says, tossing a box of condoms into
the basket.
“Yeah,” Dick continues. “I know. When was the last time you let me or Roy go to
the library with you? Oh I know, never.”
Jason rolls his eyes, makes a silly face at a baby in a cart while her mother
tries to decide which diaper rash cream to buy.
“He’s not Roy, Jay,” Dick says when they walk down the next aisle.
“And he’s not as fragile as you think he is,” Jason says and grabs a package of
twizzlers off the shelf, the strawberry kind that Tim likes. “And neither am
I.”
 
***
 
“You’re out of your mind,” Roy says in that shrill, high pitched tone he gets
when he just won’t let something drop.
It’s been a pretty busy night so far. They’ve each had a few takers. Jason’s
last one was a guy who wanted Jason to call him Mr. President while the guy
sucked on his toes, so at least it’s been interesting.
“There’s no way, no way,” Roy keeps on and Jason thinks if he hits one more
octave they won’t even be able to hear him anymore, only dogs and old people
with hearing aids. “No fuckin’ way that Vader could defeat Gandalf, man.”
Jason looks at Tim and Tim’s just grinning this crooked, devious grin like he
knows exactly what he’s doing. What a little shit.
“Jay, Jaybird. Tell this heathen that Gandalf could take down Vader any day of
the week.”
“That depends,” Jason says, flicking the ashes from his cigarette onto the
pavement. He catches Tim’s eye briefly and winks. “Who the fuck is Gandalf?”
Roy looks like he’s going to have a stroke.
Jason can’t help it though, the look on Roy’s face is too fucking hilarious and
he breaks, just fucking cracks up, and Tim joins him, almost doubling over, and
Roy just stands there glaring at both of them like they’re vile traitors who
need to be dealt with.
Jason’s still laughing when a familiar car pulls up at the edge of the curb.
Tim sees it and hops up, brushes his jeans off.
“I’ll get this one,” he says when he sees Jason stub out his cigarette and pop
a mint in his mouth. “You got the last one, I think.”
Behind him, Jason hears Roy snicker. “Sit down, Timmy. This one’s for Jay.”
“Don’t wait up,” Jason says as he takes off, jogging backwards down the street.
“And go home and feed Dick before he sets the place on fire again!”
“What was that about?” Tim asks Roy after the black Mercedes drives off with
Jason in it.
“That,” Roy says, throwing his arm around Tim’s shoulders and steering them
back toward home, “Was Bruce Wayne.”
 
***
 
Bruce has been one of Jason’s regulars since Jason was fifteen years old. It’s
been months since the last time he came around, but he still looks just as
good. He’s got this salt and pepper beard going on now and wrinkles in the
corners of his eyes and fuck if it doesn’t make him even hotter.
“Hey, B,” Jason grins when Bruce rolls down the passenger side window, leans
inside. “Thought you forgot about me.”
“Never,” Bruce smiles and hits the power locks.
Jason doesn’t need more of an invitation than that, not with Bruce, so he
climbs in, puts his seatbelt on, and is immediately dragged in for a kiss.
“I missed you,” Bruce breathes out against his cheek, just holding him there,
and Jason doesn’t know what to say, never knows what to say to the brutally
honest shit Bruce says to him, so he just squeezes Bruce’s thigh and says,
“Drive.”
They never go to the same place, but it’s always some fancy as shit hotel with
valet service and everything, the kind of place where Bruce can have champagne
and chocolate delivered to the room as soon as they get settled. It’s the kind
of place that makes Jason’s skin crawl, makes him afraid he’s going to get the
place dirty just looking at it. That’s kind of how he feels about Bruce
sometimes.
Bruce is nice and clean, wears suits that cost more than Jason makes in a month
and he knows all this stuff about how you’re supposed to act and what you’re
supposed to say. Even if he says he thinks it’s all bullshit he can still pull
it off, blend right in with the rich and stuffy masses, which is more than
Jason would ever be able to do.
He doesn’t know what Bruce sees in him, not when Bruce could have anyone he
wants looking the way he does, having the kind of money he has. It doesn’t make
any sense, but Jason stopped trying to figure Bruce Wayne out a long time ago
and decided to just go with it.
Going with Bruce, it’s like being on vacation. He gets fed champagne and
strawberries, gets massaged with those nice, giant hands of Bruce’s, gets
fucked and actually enjoys it -- hell, he loves it. Bruce spends hours on
foreplay, kisses him for so long Jason’s mouth goes numb from it, fucks Jason
like he’s this precious, breakable thing, fucks him so slow, draws it out for
so long, that Jason nearly cries when he finally comes.
Jason’s standing out on the balcony looking out over the city in one of the
hotel’s complimentary robes when Bruce comes up behind him, wraps his arms
around Jason’s waist and kisses his neck.
“I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind and reconsidered my offer?” he
murmurs next to Jason’s ear and Jason leans his head back against Bruce’s
shoulder, closes his eyes and lets Bruce pull open the ties on his robe, stroke
his belly, his hand slowly drifting lower.
Jason has thought about it is the thing. He thought about it every single days
for months and months after Bruce offered to let him stay with him. And
standing on top of the world in this penthouse Bruce paid the night for,
breathing in Bruce’s cologne, he’s thinking about it again. He thinks about how
amazing it would be to come home to someone like Bruce, to sleep in a bed that
doesn’t smell like mildew and have springs poking out of it, to not have to
choose between eating or having running water that week. Then he thinks about
Tim, how angry he was when some guy offered him the same thing, how he never
even considered accepting it, thinks about Roy’s stupid laugh and how Dick
always smells like apples when he pulls Jason in for a hug, and Jason finds his
footing again.
He lets Bruce get him off one more time before he says thanks but no thanks, B,
grabs the cash off the nightstand and hops a cab back home.
 
***
 
It’s a little after five in the morning when Jason slips back in the house, the
sun inching over the horizon and bleeding in through the blinds, painting
orange stripes all over the apartment. Everyone’s still asleep; he can hear Roy
snoring in Dick’s room, and when he opens the door to his room Jason finds Tim
asleep in his bed.
He accidentally drops his keys while he’s getting undressed and Tim stirs,
scoots up a little against the wall and rubs his eyes.
“S’ry,” he mumbles. “Couch popped another spring. Dick said you wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t,” Jason says and kicks his jeans the rest of the way off, tosses his
shirt in the corner, and crawls in the bed next to Tim.
Tim just looks at him like he wants to say something, but Jason’s distracted by
how adorable he looks like this, sleepy-eyed, hair going every which way, his
face a little pink from the heat.
“Roy told me about Bruce,” he says. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to --”
but Jason just puts his finger to Tim’s lips, leans in and kisses the spot
under his jaw, behind his ear, then takes his finger away and replaces it with
his mouth. Tim tastes warm, like sleep and toothpaste, and he makes a soft
noise when Jason sucks on his bottom lip, reaches up and touches Jason’s face
then pulls him on top of him.
Tim feels good beneath him, feels right and Jason stays like that forever, just
kissing him until they have to break for air, then going right back to it. He
takes forever learning the shape of Tim’s mouth, alternating between soft,
sweet kisses and fucking his tongue down his throat. Tim seems to like it best
when he bites a little on his bottom lip, always grabs his face and kisses back
even harder after that. He moans into Jason’s mouth when Jason reaches down and
palms him through his shorts, wet in the front already from where he’s been
leaking through them.
“God,” he says. “Jason.” Like Jason’s done something amazing and not just
barely touched him at all, and it’s so fucking hot Jason kisses him again,
pushes Tim’s boxers off his hips and gets his hand around his dick. It’s warm
and hard in his hand and so, so wet and Jason brings his palm up to his mouth
for a second just to get a taste.
“Fuck,” Tim says and starts tugging Jason’s boxers down until he can touch him
too, starts matching Jason’s strokes with his own, the sounds of their harsh,
heavy breathing so loud in Jason’s tiny room.
“God, get,” Jason starts, moves to the side and drags Tim’s boxers completely
off. “Get these off.”
Then Tim’s pulling at Jason’s, sliding them down his thighs and Jason kicks
them off the rest of the way, grabs a little bit of lube from the nightstand
and squeezes it on both of them, crawls back on top of Tim and grinds their
dicks together.
“Oh god,” Tim says in this near awe-like tone, digs his fingers into Jason’s
ass to pull him closer.
“Yeah,” Jason groans out, eyes rolling back in his head when his dick slides
against Tim’s, slick and hot and so goddamn perfect. “Fuck, Tim.”
Tim reaches up and drags Jason back in for another kiss, crashes their mouths
together and just fucking devours him, fingers digging into the back of Jason’s
skull to hold him there. “I want,” Tim gasps when he breaks away. “I want you.”
Jason just blinks down at him for a moment then leans down and kisses his neck,
sucks a bruise onto his throat and says, “Good. Because I want you so bad I
can’t stand it anymore.”
He spends a few more minutes giving Tim a matching bruise on the other side of
his neck, kisses him until his mouth feels raw and swollen, then he leans over
and grabs a condom out of the top drawer, squirts some more lube onto his
fingers.
“I can do that,” Tim says and Jason just shakes his head, presses the tip of
his finger into Tim and says, “Shh. I want to.”
The thing about Tim is that Jason still doesn’t have him figured out. Kid’s a
fucking hooker, has sex with random strangers at least half a dozen times a
day, but he’s acting like having just one of Jason’s fingers inside him is the
best fucking thing he’s ever felt.
And the noise he makes when Jason adds a second? It’s fucking obscene.
“God,” Tim gasps when Jason crooks his fingers, sweat beading around his
hairline. “Right -- there god --”
And Jason could sit here and do this all day, just watch Tim writhing and
fucking himself on his fingers, his chest splotched pink, biting on his bottom
lip, but after a few minutes Tim gets to sounding needy and wrecked, twisting
the sheets in his fists, and he’s so hard Jason thinks all he’d have to do is
breathe on his dick and he’d come. So Jason decides to save that for another
day, a day when they both aren’t so on edge from wanting this for so long that
they can’t think straight.
“You ready?” he asks and Tim just nods his head. He looks like a beautiful,
wrecked mess and Jason can’t wait to wreck him just a little bit more. He rolls
on the condom, squeezes a little bit more lube onto his dick and a little more
on Tim, then lifts Tim’s legs up on his shoulders and slowly sinks into him.
Tim doesn’t say anything, just looks up him, his blue eyes big as saucers and
glassy, mouth parted slightly, and Jason stills.
“Hey, is this okay?” he asks and Tim says “yeah,” chews on his lip a little.
“It’s just. I’ve never --”
And he has, of course he has, but --
“You’ve never had sex without someone paying you for it,” Jason finishes once
he figures it out and when Tim nods he says, “Jesus, Tim.”
“It’s okay,” Tim says, reaching up and touching Jason’s arm, his face, dragging
him down for another kiss and whispering across his mouth, “Please don’t stop.”
“Okay,” Jason breathes out, presses his lips to Tim’s forehead then sits back
on his knees, strokes Tim’s calf with his thumb. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he
says and starts moving, shallow little thrusts at first, slowly picking up the
pace as Tim’s sounds get louder and closer together.
Tim doesn’t say a whole lot, not like the string of profanities that constantly
roll out of Roy’s mouth when he’s fucking him, but the noises he makes are even
better. Every little sharp gasp, every sudden, surprised moan makes Jason’s
dick even harder, makes him want to make this so good for Tim that every time
he has sex after this he’ll think of this, right now, how good Jason made him
feel.
“Tell me,” Jason says. “Tell me what you like or what you don’t like. I want to
make you feel good, Tim.”
Tim squeezes his thigh. “You already are,” he says and Jason leans down and
kisses him and they both groan at how deep it gets him, but something sounds
off about Tim’s.
“Hey,” Jason says and leans back. “Talk to me. Did I hurt you?”
“No,” Tim says, but it’s a lie, the kind you have to train yourself to tell and
quickly he realizes that Jason would know that. “I mean. I think I like it
better on my knees.”
“Good,” Jason says and pulls out of him, waits for Tim to roll over and get up
on his knees. He wraps his arm around Tim’s chest and just pulls him against
him for a moment, holds him there. “I’m not them,” he murmurs into Tim’s ear,
stroking his hip. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
“Okay,” Tim whispers. “I’m sorry. Can you...please?”
“Absolutely,” Jason says and grips Tim’s hips, kisses the spot behind his ear
as he eases back inside of him, groaning in the crook of Tim’s shoulder at how
tight he feels around him.
“How’s this?” He asks, brushing his lips over Tim’s collarbone.
“God,” Tim gasps out, one hand gripping the headboard tight. “You feel...I
feel…”
“Words, baby,” Jason whispers against Tim’s neck, kisses his shoulder. “Good?”
“God yes,” Tim groans. “Please, Jason --”
Jason knows exactly what Tim needs because he needs it too, more than fucking
anything. He starts moving, slower than he’s ever gone in his life, but it’s
good. It’s perfect. Tim feels fucking amazing around him, smells and tastes so
sweet he can’t stop kissing him everywhere, sucks on his shoulder until a
bruise blossoms out, then gives the other shoulder a matching one. It’s not the
best position for kissing, but Jason makes it work, can’t get enough of kissing
Tim’s gorgeous mouth, angles them just perfectly so he can fuck his tongue into
Tim’s mouth as he thrusts into him, slow and deep.
“Christ, you’re perfect,” Jason murmurs next to his ear, still holding Tim
against his chest. He knows it’s one of those dumb things people say in the
middle of sex, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true, that he doesn’t mean every
word of it. He reaches around and gets his hand around Tim’s dick, jerks him
off as he fucks into him, catches Tim’s mouth and swallows down his moans. The
bed frame’s banging against the wall and Tim’s getting louder and louder each
time Jason slams into him and Jason would feel bad about waking Dick and Roy up
this early except there’s no way in hell he could ever be sorry for this.
“God,” Jason says, dropping his hands down to grip Tim’s hips and just pound
into him, their sweat-slicked bodies slapping together. “You feel too fucking
good,” he says, leaning forward to lick the salt from Tim’s spine. “Touch
yourself. Come with me.”
He waits until Tim gets his hand on his dick and starts jerking himself off,
waits until Tim cries out Jay, and clenches around him, and then he can’t wait
anymore, just buries himself in Tim as deep as he can get, grabs Tim by the
hair and crushes their mouths together and comes so hard he nearly passes out.
They stay like that for a few minutes, Jason still inside of him as he breathes
against Tim’s neck, then he slowly pulls out and ties the condom off, tosses it
in the trash and grabs a dirty towel to wipe Tim down with. Then he crawls back
in bed and curls up behind Tim. He’s never been much for cuddling, but change
is good, or so he hears.
“You good?”
“Mmm,” Tim says and he sounds like a happy kitten. It makes Jason smile. “I
didn’t know it could be so. It’s so much better with...”
with someone you actually like, Tim doesn’t have to say. Jason gets it.
“I’m glad,” Jason says and nuzzles his neck, slips his arm around Tim’s waist
and pulls him closer.
He’s just about to drift off when Tim says, “Hey, Jay?”
“Mm?” Jason asks sleepily.
“Do you ever think about telling Bruce yes?”
In the kitchen he can hear Dick banging around, probably looking for a clean
bowl to have cereal in, and Roy’s already playing his god awful screamo music
on the radio he dug out of the trash and fixed up with a little soldering.
There’s a hole in Jason’s window that’s covered up with nothing but duct tape
and a dish towel and a huge yellow water stain on the wall because the roof
leaks if it so much as drizzles.
“What?” He asks, smiling against Tim’s shoulder. “And leave all this?”
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