Series: Take Me Home: Lightning Crashes: Part Two
Series: Take Me Home
Summary: AU Jason is the big brother pimp of Crime Alley. He works to keep his boys and girls safe against the rising crime and even the Bat himself. When he finds rich boy Tim Drake lurking in the shadows one evening, both their lives take a path they never expected.
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Title: Lightning Crashes
Wordcount: ~ 10,000 (It's a BEAST, I tell you!)
Rating: PG-13
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His fourth week in, Tim had a system down. He carried in the groceries, stepped over the collection of drunks, druggies, and virulently ill piled at the threshold of the apartments and watched Maria chase the lot out with a broom. His opinion of her had risen considerably since the night she nearly evicted Jason and he understood her. There were plenty of nice people in Crime Alley, but they were all desperate. Desperate people brought trouble. If she showed kindness to every hard-luck case she found, she'd be running a charity and Maria was just as desperate as everyone else. She did take pride in her building. There was not graffiti on the walls, not for long at least, and running the scrappers and bigger troublemakers out kept the body count down in her building. Maria was no Mother Teresa, but she tried.
It was hard to hate a woman like that.
The long hallways always needed new wallpaper, but after watching Maria scrub away piss and spray paint, Tim knew the only reason the walls weren't gilded in gold was because she couldn't afford any better. Tim remembered that for the fraying carpet, the peeling and sanded paint, patched holes in the wall, and the holes that weren't. Someone loved this place.
Tim spared a thought for his own cold house that wasn't gilded in gold because it wasn't fashionable, but the priceless artifacts no one looked at were easily worth just as much. Tim hated his house.
The system changed today. He was to knocked five times - One, One two, One, One - and Devon would open the door suspiciously. They'd swap a short paranoid conversation, Tim would set down the groceries and go on his way.
Today, however, a black boy answered. He tried to look tough, just like Devon, but Devon had the edge of years to make him cynical enough it almost worked. Something told Tim this kid wasn't born down here. It was odd, realizing all the racial stereotypes meant nothing in this part of town. Sure, statistically, it was more likely Devon's family had hit financial potholes and fallen through the social strata to hit rock bottom, but this kid looked scared.
His hair was done in neat cornrolls and his over-sized jersey said 'Merlin 27'. It was a high school team somewhere to the east.
“Hi,” Tim said, holding out the groceries. “Want me to leave them out here?”
He chewed his chapped lip thoughtfully and Tim mentally added lip balm to his his next grocery run. He thought he hand a stick on him. Holding out the bags suddenly, he handed one set off and dug through his pocket for his Chapstick. “Here,” he said, “Use this.”
Blinking, the boy took the Chapstick hesitantly, but it wasn't with suspicion. He seemed afraid Tim would snatch it back.
Tim made sure to stand exactly where he was, perfectly relaxed. He was stuck again by the fact he couldn't imagine the lives these children lead.
When he tried to give the Chapstick back, Tim just shook his head. “Hold on to it. I'll try to bring a jumbo pack next time.”
“Could you...” Jersy said suddenly and Tim was sure he didn't grow up in the ghetto because his accent was clean and smooth. Middle class. What would life for Tim have been like if Drake Industries went the other direction?
Tim waited patiently.
“Come in,” Jersey questioned hopefully, “Jay's been out for a couple days and some of the kids are sick. Devon's not doing so good.”
That was unexpected. Tim froze. What was he supposed to do with sick children? Tim was rarely sick and when he was the cook gave him cough syrup and chicken noodle soup.
Well, that was something.
Tim nodded and gave what he hoped was a soothing smile, “Sure.” Inside, the apartment was a mess of dirty clothes and blankets, children curled up, “Does Jason know they're sick? What's you're name?” He couldn't keep thinking of him as Jersey Boy.
“Harrison,” Jersey said timidly, and he nodded, “That why he's been out. Devon got real sick and Jay said he needed to go to the doctor. After Jay came in with a gunshot would to the free clinic last year, the Doc there said she won't see him until he talks to the police, so...” Harrison shrugged, “He'd tried to send us in by ourselves before, but the Doctor knows.”
“Leslie.” Tim nodded.
Harrison started and stared at him, “Yeah. Could- Could you talk to her?”
“Let me see everyone first,” Tim decided. Looking around the mess, it was obvious Harrison was trying his best to take care of everyone, but Tim counted four sleeping bodies strewn over the floor so far. It was too much for him to handle. “How old are you?”
“Nine,” Harrison answered immediately. “Why?”
“You've done a good job,” Tim said supportively. He lied, “I thought you might be older.”
There was no way Tim could mistake Harrison for someone older, but he'd obviously been working hard and he deserved the praise. The bashful smile Tim received in return told him he was right.
“No,” He shook his head. “Devon's the oldest. He's twelve, I think. Laurie was fifteen, but she yelled at Jason and threw things and left.” Harrison's shoulders slumped. “That was a few months ago. Jason tried to find her, but she just left.”
Tim couldn't imagine she ended up anywhere good.
“Could you tell me everyone's names?”
Harrison nodded helpfully, “Sure!” He started from the door and whispered softly the names, ages, and short histories of each child they passed. “This is Aiyi,”He said to the little girl Tim remembered waiting for him to wake up with Devon, “She's just turned five. Her mom doesn't like her, so Jason took her in. She just got sick last night, but she's not too bad. I give her water every hour.” He showed Tim his wristwatch, “I have thirty-five minutes before she needs another glass.”
“Very good,” Tim acknowledged, knowing water was probably the most important thing Harrison could be doing for them.
They stepped over an empty pizza box and a newspaper covered in puke. Harrison folded it up carefully and told Tim to stay put. A quick run to the trash and he was back with a new paper. “Emilio,” pointing across the room to a little girl he explain, “and Mila. They're twins. Jason says they're seven, but they don't like to talk much. They were sick first, but it didn't seem to bad.” He shrugged helplessly, “Emilio won't stop throwing up, though.”
“You should give him water twice an hour, then,” Tim said softly. “That will keep him from being dehydrated.”
“But he keep throwing it up,” Harrison huffed helplessly.
Tim thought hard, “Do you have any icecubes?”
“I think so,” Harrison considered, “The refrigerator doesn't always work, but I think it's ok right now.”
“Try feeding him ice cubes, but sit him up so he doesn't chock on them.”
“Kay, Larrent's in the corner,” Harrison shrugged, “he's not sick, but he stayed up all night so he'd sleeping now. He's four. Debbie's five, too, but she's out trying to.. I don't know. I should have asked,” He said mournfully and Tim clasp him on the shoulder.
“I'm sure she's doing something important,” At five, Tim couldn't imagine what, but he couldn't imagine a nine year old taking care of four frighteningly ill friends, either. “Why don't you show me Devon?”
“He's in Jason's room,” Harrison whispered ominously. “He's... He's real sick. He won't wake up when I shake him and he's really hot. I put towels on his forehead like they do in the movies, but I don't think it's working. I change them when they get hot and everything, but he doesn't notice.” He perked unexpectedly and waved Tim's Chapstick happily, “Maybe this'll help!”
Tim eased open the bedroom door and nearly gagged on the smell. Emilio had been no bed of roses, but it was obvious Devon hadn't woken up to used the bathroom properly. Tim pushed through to a tiny rusted shower and turned it on, grateful the cold worked. It wasn't freezing, but it should be enough to do the trick for a little while and get Devon clean.
Back on the bed, Harrison was dipping a dishrag in a bowl of water and setting it on Devon's sweat-soaked brow.
“I'm gonna get him up, okay?” Tim explained calmly, “While I put him in the shower, do you have someplace to clean the sheets?”
“Jay takes them to the laundromat on 7th,”Harrison said, “But I could scrub them in the sink?”
Dish soak probably wasn't the most comfortable thing to wash your sheets with, but it would have to do. “Why don't you strip the bed and grab the soap and I'll scrub them in the shower.”
“Kay,” Harrison got to work immediately, without so much as a scowl at the dirty work. Tim eased boneless Devon on to his shoulder and held him tight to keep the boy from slipping through his grip. He debated stripping off Devon's clothes, but in the end, they could use a wash as much as the rest of him.
Tim set him on the floor of the shower and turn it on cold. He stripped off his clothes and set them on the toilet, teeth chattering under the cool water. What a time to remember his low cold tolerance. Still, he hoisted Devon up by his armpits and thanked God the boy was smaller than Tim.
Devon was frightfully hot. Slowly stripping off his dirty clothes, Tim tried to figure how hot his fever was running and couldn't manage anything more concrete than 'Bad, really bad'. He considered his options. A real doctor would want parental permission and call social services when Tim explained the situation. If Jason thought SS would do these kids any good, he would have called them himself ages ago, which meant that was a no-go. The ER was the same.
The only option was Doctor Thompkin's clinic. Tim didn't know how, but he had to convince her to see Devon. She was a close friend of Bruce Wayne; both sides of him. She couldn't let a boy die just because his guardian wouldn't speak to the police. It was Crime Alley, for heaven's sakes! No one ever spoke to the police!
Harrison popped his head in with the dish soap and the sheet and Tim passed him Devon, carefully, “Get him dressed. I'll carry him to the clinic.”
“But,” Harrison panicked, balanced Devon's heavy weight carefully, “Jason said -”
“I have money,” Tim explained simply. “I'll bribe my way in if I have to. Devon needs a doctor and anyone else will take you away.”
Harrison's eyes bulged and he shook his head, “Don't let them take me away.”
“That's why I'm going to the clinic,” Tim assured him, scrubbing dried feces off the sheet. The Palmolive stained the sheets slightly orange, but he let the water rinse out the leftover soap. He flashed a weak smile, “He'll be okay. I promise.”
It was a stupid promise, but watching the scared little boy relax all over made Tim's heart clench.
“What about the others?”
Tim turned off the shower and started wringing out the sheets. “I'll tell the doctor the rest of you have it so she'll give me enough antibiotics. I don't want to be short stocked if you or Debbie get sick, too.”
“Oh,” Harrison found a pair of pants for Devon in the corner. They weren't the cleanest, but they would do. “But I don't want to get sick.”
Tim smiled wryly, “I don't want you to, either, but if you do, you'll get better faster than Devon because you have the medicine.”
“Ok.”
“Good.”
Tim pulled his shirt on, mindless of his wet hair. His boxers and jeans were a little more uncomfortable, but Tim wasn't desperate enough for a towel to send poor Harrison looking. By the time he was done, Devon was awkwardly dressed in a pair of dirty track pants and an inside out shirt that looked too big for him. Tim had to smile. If he were Harrison, he'd send a little piece of Jason with them, too.
“Alright,” Tim nodded. “I don't know how long I'll be. I brought some Campbell soups with me this time. Why don't you warm some up on the stove for everyone?”
Harrison perked up excitedly, “Chicken noodle?”
Tim grinned, “Chicken and stars.”
Harrison bolted out the door and began clearing off the pile of paper plates on the stove. Tim hoped he knew what he was doing.
Tim hoped he knew what he was doing.
-
Devon's eyes opened just in time to help Tim down the stairs, but he never responded to Tim. The heavy drifting gaze idled at the waiting room wall. A woman waited with a bloody face and two boys seemed the worse off for a nasty fist fight. By their matching colors, they were on the same side. Tim wished he could demand Devon was the most desperate case, but one of the boys was coughing up a frightening amount of blood.
Leslie Thompkin's free clinic sat at the corner of three ganglands and was universally understood as drug free. Without guns or police protection, Leslie managed to force her way by refusing treatment to anyone who sold drugs in her neighborhood. She had no patience for thuggary.
Of course, that meant she didn't understand it, either, Tim believed, or she never would have banned Jason from the clinic. He didn't know if the triage nurse know Jason's kids, but one look at Devon and she'd handed Tim a clipboard and a pen.
Tim didn't have any of Devon's medical history or his last name, but he filled out the symptoms best as he knew them. He should have been more observant. Harrison would have known all this. It was aggravating to know a nine year old out did him. What if Tim missed something important?
He'd deal with that when it came, Tim decided. Right now, he had to get Devon seen before anything like symptoms mattered.
His hands shook as he wrote, but Tim just set his lips and filled in the blanks.
“Sir, you need to calm down!” The triage nurse burst out loudly, pointing towards the exit. “Unless you're in need of medical attention, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”
Jason.
He was sweaty and covered in streaks of dirt but Tim had never seen anything more striking in his life.
“Over here,” He called desperately.
Jay spun sharply, eyes frantic. When he settled on Devon and Tim, Jason ate up the floor, ignoring the nurse's frustration. “I can't - He can't -” He panted nonsensically.
“I need his last name,” Tim cut him off. He didn't think he could keep his shit together if Jason lost it, too.
Jason took a deep breath and stared.
“For the paperwork.”
He shook his head and Tim blinked away the spray of sweat, “Uh, Margoty. I think. Um.”
“Close enough,” Tim agreed and wrote it swiftly in tight neat letters. He swallowed and moved on, “Any important medical history. Allergies, shots, any chronic illnesses?”
“Uh,” Jason blinked slowly, shaking his head again slowly, “Yeah, um. He's allergic to Penicillin and - No, no, he's not. That's - Uh, he's not,” He waved his hand dismissively. “Devon,”Jason started again with a recited firmness in his voice. “Devon has asthma. He's had the chicken pox. Sometimes his tonsils swell up. Um. He broke his wrist five months ago but I couldn't bring him in so I set it.”
“How did he break it,” Tim asked clinically, making a dash to the side.
“Normal,” Jason said shortly.
Tim gazed at him patiently.
Jason waited defensively, nostrils flaring.
“I don't know what that means,” Tim said softly. “It that hairline? Spiral? Playing baseball? Falling off the couch?”
He deflated and scuffed his foot, “Street hockey,” Jason muttered. “I think it was just a hairline. I wrapped it up in an Ace bandage for a few weeks and made him take it easy. Hasn't said a word about it since.”
Tim waited until Jason met his eyes and gave him an approving nod. “I'll put that down. He might have an bone infection making him more vulnerable than the other kids.”
“Emilio isn't doing so hot neither,” Jason fretted, running a hand through his hair. He shuffled his feet nervously and Tim could see him fighting the urge to pace.
Tim pulled Devon in his lap and nodded to his empty seat. “Here, you can watch his breathing for me. If he has astma, I don't want his throat flaring up when he pukes.”
“Shit,” Jason quickly sat down and pulled Devon into his lap. He laid his head on the boy's chest and listened. “I didn't even think of that.”
Tim shrugged and looked through the rest of the paperwork, “I have no idea if that's a risk,” he admitted, “I just want to be sure.”
“Yeah,” Jay nodded, rocking the boy softly.
Tim sigh, “So, no shots?”
Wincing, Jason shook his head. “Not since I got booted. I don't think he's missed anything major, but I dunno.”
Tim set his hand gently on Jason's shoulder. “It's ok,” he soothed. “It isn't your fault.”
“Fuck it isn't,” Jason seethed wetly, tucking Devon's head into his shoulder. “It's my fault the Doc won't see the kids. It's my fault they had to wait and I still don't have the money to do anything else.”
“No,” Tim said firmly, “It's not.”
He knelt on the floor and squeezed Jason's knees tightly. “Doctor Thompkins wants to make the world a better place and she tried to help solve the crimes that come through her door, but denying the children medical care because you won't tell her Mario shot you is wrong.”
“How -” Jason blinked. “Who told you that?”
Tim shrugged and gave him a wry smile, “You told me he was a good shot. I figured you had to know somehow. Harrison mentioned you'd been shot; I put two and two together.”
He huffed, “Damn. You're full of all sorts of surprises.”
“And a trust fund,” Tim joked. “It's the gift that keeps giving.”
“Posh little bastard.”
“Quite possibly. I'm told I have my father's eyes, but I see him so rarely it's hard to tell.”
They fell into tired silence, Jason rocking his sick child while Tim traced patterns on his knees. Eventually, he picked up the completed paperwork and dropped it off at the desk.
The nurse gave him a tired smile, “Thank you. The doctor told me to go ahead and put you in room five.”
Tim nodded gratefully, “Thank you. I'll go tell them.”
“I,” The nurse frowned. She closed her mouth and tried again, “You'd do best to take him in yourself.”
Tim crooked an eyebrow pointedly. “I guarantee, Miss, Devon will be seen with or without Jason, or I will bring the wrath of Drake Industries on Doctor Leslie and her unethical medical practices. Do I make myself very clear?” It was a ridiculous statement and the nurse obviously took more offense than fear from it, but Tim knew as soon as he spoke them he meant every word.
He checked his watch. It was six-forty-five already. If he called the chatelaine for the number of his father's lawyer it would immediately make it back to his parents. However, in this case, Tim was sure he could spine the story into a great publicity stunt for the growing company. Nothing boosted stocks like crusades for human rights.
Strutting back, Tim said briskly, “Room five. You carry, I'll get the door.” He was going to make Doctor Thompkin swallow her words or he'd bring the clinic to it's knees.
Confused, Jason just wrinkled his brow and stood, propping Devon up carefully. He obviously wanted to ask Tim a question, but Tim hurried them along.
In room five, Leslie Thompkin was waiting.
“I don't take kindly to idle threats,” She greeted angrily and Tim pulled out his phone and dialed his father's phone. If we was going to sink the Titanic, he was doing it without fear.
Jason frowned, “What are you doing?”
Tim gave Leslie a flat stare, “I'm calling my father.”
“What-”
“Tim?” His father answered.
“Hello father. I believe I'm going to have need of your PR lawyer,” Tim began, “I believe I've found a case of gross medical negligence taking place at - Oh, one moment. I believe the Doctor wishes to speak to me.”
Leslie was furious, “I don't know who you think you are-”
“Timothy Jackson Drake,” He stuck out his hand politely, “Son of Jackson and Janet Drake of Drake Industries.”
“I have been running this clinic for thirty years, Mr. Drake,” Leslie ignored his hand. “I am the only source of medical aid most of these people have and you're arrogant enough to believe my supporters will allow a precocious child to close my doors on some whim?”
“I wonder, Dr. Thompkins,” Tim responded idly, “What Bruce Wayne would think of you letting a child die because the boy who sacrifices his childhood every day to feed complete strangers is too afraid to testify against someone who tried to murder him?”
Jason reared up angrily, but Tim cowed him with a look.
“Timmy, what on Earth is going on! I want an explanation right now, young man.”
“I'm doing an expose on criminal activity in Gotham's free health care system,” Tim lied easily. “You've heard of Leslie Thompkins, haven't you?”
“I've never met a more self-centered child,” Leslie seethed and Tim knew she was absolutely right, “You're willing to trade the lives of an entire community for your arrogance.”
“Oh, yes,”Tim agreed, “I am.” He nodded at Devon and tucked his cellphone against his shoulder. “The difference between you and I, Doctor Thompkins, is that you realize to improve life for this community, you need to be harsh. I, on the other hand, could care less about the community. I just care about that child.”
They stared at one another.
Leslie angrily pulled on her stethoscope and waved Jason to set Devon down on the table.
Tim turned back to his phone, “Oh, I'm sorry,”he cut in innocently, “It looks like Doctor Thompkins came to handle the problem herself. She really is as amazing as they say.”
“What? Timothy Jackson, what have you gotten yourself into!”
“It was a school project, but I wanted fresh sources, so I decided to do a little foot investigation.”
“In Crime Alley!”
“I called ahead!” Tim lied, “They were expecting me, I promise.”
“I - I don't know what to do about this right now, Son. We'll have words when your mother and I return.”
“Yessir,” he demured.
His father hung up.
By the time Tim turn back to the check-up, Leslie was taking rapid notes. “You should have brought him in earlier,” she said angrily.
“Like you woulda seen him!” Jason snapped back. “You didn't last time.”
Leslie looked at him exasperatedly, “Little what you and Mr. Drake may think of me, Mr. Todd, I'm not in the habit of letting children die of bacterial infections when a little antibiotics and intravenous fluid will save the day.” She quirked an eyebrow at the pair of them. “As I said, I've run this clinic for over thirty years. You're hardly the first morally ambiguous good Samaritan I've seen.”
Oh, Tim flushed, feeling a right ass.
She rolled her eyes at them both, pulling off a script, “Here. Give him one of these twice a day. I'll get an IV in here and have Bonnie hook him up. Give him a couple hours on the fluids and he should wake up.”
“We need more,” Jason said, before Tim could.
Leslie's eyebrows flew into her hair, “I'm not in the habit of handing out endless scripts.”
“There are other kids,” Tim explained. “A pair of twins, another boy, and a girl. The other two aren't sick, but that's probably a matter of time.”
Leslie sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Seven. You have seven children in your immediate care?” She asked Jason.
“What of it?” He snarled defensively.
She closed her eyes and huffed, throwing her hand up in surrender, “Fine. I'll write the scripts, but I don't have seven perscriptions currently in stock.”
“How many do you have?” Tim asked, taking over the conversation. He pushed Jason back gently and sent him to watch Devon.
“Three. Maybe,” Leslie shook her head apologetically, “this is a free clinic. Our supplies are limited.”
“Can you write it so I can pick it up?” Tim asked, “I can bring it to one of the pharmacies. I can afford it.”
Leslie snorted, “I never thought I'd see the day when I encouraged the idle rich to waste away their inheritance on drugs.”
Tim smiled weakly, “To be fair, I haven't inherited anything yet.”
“I'll get those scripts. Lets get him hooked up before too much longer. He's in poor shape, but I don't see any reason he won't make a full recovery,” Leslie assured them.
“Doc,” Jason called as she closed the door. Leslie paused. “Thanks.”
-
“She's gonna go ahead and keep him overnight,” Jason said softly, accepting the cheap coffee Tim charmed out of the nurse. It was a new shift; Bonnie would have dumped the cravat on Tim's head if he'd asked her.
Tim nodded, “Good. He probably needs it.”
“Yeah,” Jason sighed rubbing his face triedly. He rested his head in his hands, “God, I fucked this up.”
“No, hey, everything's alright,” Tim insisted, setting his cup aside. He couldn't let Jason think like that. Not after he worked so hard to keep it together.
“Because some dumb as shit moneybags can't keep his ass on the right side of the tracks and knew when to call the bullshit card.” Jason ranted, “What did I do? I went picking street fights with cheap drunks cause I couldn't risk losin'. I barely scrapped together enough to buy a bottle of Tylenol.”
“You shouldn't give them Acephenomon,” Tim said thoughtlessly, “it's the leading cause of liver failure in America.”
Jason lifted his head and stared incredulously at him.
Tim flushed and mumbled, “Or so I've read.”
“God,” Jason slumped back in the chair. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Tim frowned.
“Seriously, Kid!” He lurched to his feet angrily, waving his arms around the sparse room. “What sick attraction do you have to this shit? You're like, big boy school scary smart and you're getting your kicks slummin'!” Jason advanced Tim into the wall, “Did you change your mind, huh?” He shoved him once, “Tried a sip of the dirty and wanted to give it the go?” He shove him twice. “Could cost you a lot less if you just came with the cash. What the fuck do you want, dropping of fucking gift baskets and shit.”
Tim shoved back this time, “What's wrong with me?” He snapped, “What's wrong with you!” Tim snarled angrily, clenching his fists. “Is it going to be like this every time, Jason? Any I going to have to fight you tooth and nail just to make you believe I'm not out to hurt you?”
“Every time!” Jason gave a cruel laugh, “What makes you think I want you around, Twink?”
“Nothing!” Tim stormed, “Not a thing! But ya know what?” He ranted expressively with his hands, “I must be fucking crazy because I want to be around you.”
Jason sneered crossly, off-kilter, “What the fuck. Seriously.”
Tim deflated and collapsed against the door. He was surprised the nurses hadn't come in after all the noise. “Hell if I know,” He grumbled to the floor. “I just like you. I like your brash over-protective paranoia,” Tim rolled his head back on the wood. “I've got to be nuts.”
Jason huffed a laugh, “I've been telling you that since I met you.”and Tim took it as the olive branch it was.
He smiled lightly and propped himself back on his feet, “I should go.”
“Yeah?”
“I'm sort of spectacularly grounded after my parents found out about my back,” he admitted.
“Grounded? Sherlock actually get grounded?” Jason grinned maniacally and Tim gave him a half-hearted glare.
“It's entirely your fault, I'll remind you.”
Jason chuckled, “I didn't haul your ass down here.”
“I've been running around Gotham for years. I didn't get shot until someone decided to beat me up.”
“I did not beat you,” He countered loosely, melting into the extra chair by the exam table, “You wouldna had any teeth left if I beat you.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
He was gathering his phone and wallet when Jason set a hand on his shoulder, “Wait.”
Jason grinned shyly, “I owe you.”
Tim pulled himself up to argue when Jason leaned in unexpectedly and kissed him.
His head swirled, heady exhilaration swept away in the soft sensuality of their lips pulling gently. Vaguely, Tim registered wrapping his arm around Jason's broad shoulders, but he was drowning in the heat of his heavy hands trailing along Tim's hips. Jason slipped his tongue lightly against the cusp of Tim's upper lip and he shuddered, digging his fingers into Jay's back. He pulled him closer and whined, something Tim was sure he'd be horrified by later but right now, Jason dragged his teeth aggressively over his lower lip.
“Ew,” Devon rasped comically from the bed, dark eyes slitted tiredly as he watched, “You two are so gross.”
Jason groaned and thumped his head against Tim's shoulder, “Shut the fuck up, you little shit.”
Tim, much to his chagrin, was not melting into the floor like he wanted. Instead, he was sure his face was embarrassingly red and he'd never ever forget the lascivious look Devon cast them next.
“I can wait in the hall if ya like, ya know, if you're needing the bed,” He waggled his eyebrows and Jason pulled away laughing, teasingly smothering the scamp with a pillow.
Tim chuckled with them, checking the script Leslie gave him and tucking the rest in his pockets. “Hey,” He interrupted quietly, heart skipping a beat when Jason turned his bright smile directly at him. Tim couldn't help himself. He leaned in for another short kiss. They both ignored Devon's dramatic gagging. “I'll have the antibiotics tomorrow.”
“Good.” Jason nodded. “Now get out of here.”
Tim slipped out the door, but just as he eased it shut, he spoke just loud enough Jason could hear him, “You've paid.”
-
Thanks for the comments- They really help to keep me inspired. It means so much!
( Part One)