Fic: Come Undone | DCU | Jason/Tim | PG-13 (this part) | 2/3
Title: Come Undone - Part 2
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Rating: PG-13 - this part
Word Count: 921
Prompt: For dcu_freeforall: shower; for 50_darkfics: dirty
Summary: After a long patrol leaves them exhausted, Tim helps Jason get clean. More realizations are had.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: Still pretending that BftC ends with Jason as Batman. *puts fingers in ears* LALALA!! I can't hear you! XD
Part 1
Come Undone - Part 2
It takes a few moments for Tim to disentangle himself from Jason's clinging grip as the water finally gets hot enough to be truly comfortable, raining down from the shower head and blasting them from the jets on two walls. The shock of the sudden barrage wakes them both up enough so that Tim can leave Jay for a moment to seek out the shampoo.
Least he can do is give him a hand, he tells himself as he squirts a dollop into his palm and steps back to his brother to help him wash his hair. "Head back," he says simply.
Obliging with one hand on the shower wall to prop himself up, Jason lets out a low, appreciative groan as Tim works the shampoo in, rubbing little circles over his scalp with his fingertips. Tim half expects Jay to suddenly shrug him off and make some offhand comment about doing it his own damned self, but to his surprise, his brother stays mostly silent, breathing the rising steam in deeply, his eyes shut tight. It's not something Tim ever thought he'd see. He'd certainly never washed Bruce's hair after a long patrol.
But this is his brother. Well, as much as he can be, without sharing any DNA, and without being part of the Wayne household at the same time before now. No, he decides then, 'brother' really is more of a title than anything else. They're family, definitely, but nothing so close as brothers. Partners, maybe.
Yes, that's about as accurate a term for it as he can think of.
"Rinse," he says after a few moments, feeling the last of the grime wash out of Jason's hair. It was so filthy, Tim wonders when was the last time it was washed. At this point, he isn't sure when was the last time he washed his own hair.
Again, Jay obliges, and Tim helps him scrub the shampoo out, a thought occurring to him about the night.
"If you were this exhausted, how did we get home?" he asks. Not that he really expects an answer more than a grunt at this point, but still.
Jay seems to tense at the question, breathes in slowly, then says, "Autopilot."
Tim wants to kick himself suddenly, for not realizing it at the very least. "I'm sorry," he offers quietly, squirting body wash on a loofah and handing it to Jason before turning to wash his own hair quickly. With his head halfway under the stream, he adds, "I should have driven us home."
There's another long pause while Tim scrubs his own hair clean, until Jason speaks up, his voice still sandpaper, but improving with the steam, "'S not the way this works. Batman drives, Robin rides shotgun."
For a second, Tim thinks Jay's kidding, suddenly remembering all the times he had to drive Bruce back to the Cave, injured or drugged or otherwise incapacitated, but then he remembers that Jason didn't have the long years of experience as Robin that he's had. The pit of his stomach flips with guilt at the notion.
"Doesn't have to be that way," he finally says, rinsing the last of the shampoo from his own hair. "Partners." And there's that word again. He wonders if it's growing on him. "Not hero and sidekick. Never that." Bruce has left them all with one hell of a complex, that's for sure.
When he swipes the water from his eyes, he finds Jason almost staring at him, loofah still in hand and not at all used, as if he hasn't moved a muscle since Tim turned away. When their gazes meet briefly then, his stomach flips again, and he suddenly can't seem to help almost staring back. "Um," is all he can get out.
"Can't reach," Jay grumbles, blinking heavily, water droplets falling from his lashes.
Tim is sure Jason's pouting, though he knows the other man will never admit to it. "I gotcha," he nods quietly, stepping back into his partner's space and taking the loofah. "Turn around."
There's a brief flash of dark blue eyes at him before Jason turns around and props himself up against the wall with his palms, water jets hitting him square in the solar plexus, and Tim lets out a jagged breath of his own. He doesn't want to analyze any of this, but he knows he will later, and it'll probably make him crazy.
Lathering up the loofah, he sets in on Jason's back, scrubbing broad circles, same as he did on his scalp. Side to side, top to bottom, methodically, to get all the sweat and Gotham grime off. If it winds up more of a massage, he won't admit it, any more than Jay probably will. Except that the little happy noises Jason makes pretty much tell it like it is, his head dropping down between his shoulders and the tension finally starting to leave his muscles beneath Tim's hands.
"You're entirely too good at this, Baby Bird," Jay mumbles between gasping moans.
"I guess," Tim returns absently, working the loofah over the small of Jason's back and around his sides, desperate to ignore the way the sight and sound of the man in front of him is curling heat low in his gut. It's just the exhaustion. Has to be.
So distracted, he absolutely doesn't expect it when Jay reaches down and catches his wrist, mid-stroke over his obliques. "Tim."
Unable to suppress a surprised shiver at the sound of his name falling from Jason's lips in that tone, Tim sucks in a deep breath. Oh yes, he'll analyze this to death tomorrow.
* * * * *
Part 3
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Rating: PG-13 - this part
Word Count: 921
Prompt: For dcu_freeforall: shower; for 50_darkfics: dirty
Summary: After a long patrol leaves them exhausted, Tim helps Jason get clean. More realizations are had.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: Still pretending that BftC ends with Jason as Batman. *puts fingers in ears* LALALA!! I can't hear you! XD
Part 1
Come Undone - Part 2
It takes a few moments for Tim to disentangle himself from Jason's clinging grip as the water finally gets hot enough to be truly comfortable, raining down from the shower head and blasting them from the jets on two walls. The shock of the sudden barrage wakes them both up enough so that Tim can leave Jay for a moment to seek out the shampoo.
Least he can do is give him a hand, he tells himself as he squirts a dollop into his palm and steps back to his brother to help him wash his hair. "Head back," he says simply.
Obliging with one hand on the shower wall to prop himself up, Jason lets out a low, appreciative groan as Tim works the shampoo in, rubbing little circles over his scalp with his fingertips. Tim half expects Jay to suddenly shrug him off and make some offhand comment about doing it his own damned self, but to his surprise, his brother stays mostly silent, breathing the rising steam in deeply, his eyes shut tight. It's not something Tim ever thought he'd see. He'd certainly never washed Bruce's hair after a long patrol.
But this is his brother. Well, as much as he can be, without sharing any DNA, and without being part of the Wayne household at the same time before now. No, he decides then, 'brother' really is more of a title than anything else. They're family, definitely, but nothing so close as brothers. Partners, maybe.
Yes, that's about as accurate a term for it as he can think of.
"Rinse," he says after a few moments, feeling the last of the grime wash out of Jason's hair. It was so filthy, Tim wonders when was the last time it was washed. At this point, he isn't sure when was the last time he washed his own hair.
Again, Jay obliges, and Tim helps him scrub the shampoo out, a thought occurring to him about the night.
"If you were this exhausted, how did we get home?" he asks. Not that he really expects an answer more than a grunt at this point, but still.
Jay seems to tense at the question, breathes in slowly, then says, "Autopilot."
Tim wants to kick himself suddenly, for not realizing it at the very least. "I'm sorry," he offers quietly, squirting body wash on a loofah and handing it to Jason before turning to wash his own hair quickly. With his head halfway under the stream, he adds, "I should have driven us home."
There's another long pause while Tim scrubs his own hair clean, until Jason speaks up, his voice still sandpaper, but improving with the steam, "'S not the way this works. Batman drives, Robin rides shotgun."
For a second, Tim thinks Jay's kidding, suddenly remembering all the times he had to drive Bruce back to the Cave, injured or drugged or otherwise incapacitated, but then he remembers that Jason didn't have the long years of experience as Robin that he's had. The pit of his stomach flips with guilt at the notion.
"Doesn't have to be that way," he finally says, rinsing the last of the shampoo from his own hair. "Partners." And there's that word again. He wonders if it's growing on him. "Not hero and sidekick. Never that." Bruce has left them all with one hell of a complex, that's for sure.
When he swipes the water from his eyes, he finds Jason almost staring at him, loofah still in hand and not at all used, as if he hasn't moved a muscle since Tim turned away. When their gazes meet briefly then, his stomach flips again, and he suddenly can't seem to help almost staring back. "Um," is all he can get out.
"Can't reach," Jay grumbles, blinking heavily, water droplets falling from his lashes.
Tim is sure Jason's pouting, though he knows the other man will never admit to it. "I gotcha," he nods quietly, stepping back into his partner's space and taking the loofah. "Turn around."
There's a brief flash of dark blue eyes at him before Jason turns around and props himself up against the wall with his palms, water jets hitting him square in the solar plexus, and Tim lets out a jagged breath of his own. He doesn't want to analyze any of this, but he knows he will later, and it'll probably make him crazy.
Lathering up the loofah, he sets in on Jason's back, scrubbing broad circles, same as he did on his scalp. Side to side, top to bottom, methodically, to get all the sweat and Gotham grime off. If it winds up more of a massage, he won't admit it, any more than Jay probably will. Except that the little happy noises Jason makes pretty much tell it like it is, his head dropping down between his shoulders and the tension finally starting to leave his muscles beneath Tim's hands.
"You're entirely too good at this, Baby Bird," Jay mumbles between gasping moans.
"I guess," Tim returns absently, working the loofah over the small of Jason's back and around his sides, desperate to ignore the way the sight and sound of the man in front of him is curling heat low in his gut. It's just the exhaustion. Has to be.
So distracted, he absolutely doesn't expect it when Jay reaches down and catches his wrist, mid-stroke over his obliques. "Tim."
Unable to suppress a surprised shiver at the sound of his name falling from Jason's lips in that tone, Tim sucks in a deep breath. Oh yes, he'll analyze this to death tomorrow.
* * * * *
Part 3