"Kon's been helping me, but you should help me, too,"
Bart says, directly into the small silence Tim has
been carefully cultivating for the better part of an hour.

If Tim continues to sit here on the couch, still and
quiet, it's possible that he would be able to at least
get *close* to the small, soothing moment he'd found.
He has that will.

"I mean, Kon's great and also way less creepy than you
are, but you *know* things."

Bruce has taught him that they can't always have the
perfect conditions for meditation. If nothing else,
there's never any way to predict when something will
anger one of the bats into screeching and thus setting
off a cascade of --

"And I already had four orgasms today, so I don't
think I'll need too many more, so you can just -- here,"
he says, and, abruptly, there's far too much sensation.
Bart's soft, sweaty hand, his warmth, the faint hum of
his near-constant -- and apparently not at all
exhausting -- vibration --

Heat, *slick* --

"Oh-oh-oh-oh *gauntlet*! Where's your gauntlet!"

"I'd been relaxing -- Bart, why is my hand on your

"Um. Ah. Um. You're *helping*," Bart says, and then
Tim's hand is in a more... common configuration.
Position. Tim pulls --

Bart doesn't have Kon's raw strength, but he has an
instinctive grasp of momentum. Tim is pulling *against*
a force of speed which is too fast to be seen as more
than a blur. Bart's hand.

Bart's other hand is in his own hair, tugging at it,
pulling -- "Oh wow oh grife oh -- *Robin* --"

"What --" Semen. And a fair amount of it. Tim frowns.
"You wanted me to help you masturbate?"

"I -- Kon says that if someone else does it's better
and also you don't need to do it as many times and I
think he might be right but I'm not sure and also
he's asleep. You're not."

Tim pulls a wipe out from one of his pockets and
tries to remove his hand --

"More? Please?"

There's a part of him which is searching -- diligently --
for a way in which this can be anything other than what
it seems. It *is* useful information that Bart's
accelerated growth has brought him to puberty, as it
suggests that *all* of him is developing at once, but.
"Bart. This... I don't think this is appropriate. And
I'd like to clean my hand."

"Um um um. It's for science! You *like* science. And
also --"

'Also' is the way Bart is squeezing Tim's hand around

"See? I'm still all hard."

Hm. "Did you ever... soften?"

"Yes! But it came back. Maybe if you put your gauntlet
back on, or --"

Bart's on his other side now, and the wipe is nowhere
within Tim's vision. Tim reaches for another wipe --
and finds himself holding Bart's penis.

"See, 'cause you're right-handed. I noticed. You're
stronger and you can -- oh you can -- oh you have
*calluses* here, more of them, so good, let me let
me --"

Semen. Again. "*Bart*."

"Ohhh. Oh wow. It *is* better," he says, and the blur
is incomprehensible until Tim realizes that his hands
are mostly clean.

"You -- washed me off. Are you done?"

"No. Yes. Ow. Oh -- wow." And Bart is in Tim's lap,
hugging -- squeezing. "It's totally better," he says,
nodding at Tim and smiling. "Thank you!"

What -- why is Kon asleep? Tim isn't going to ask. He --

"What about you? Does Nightwing ever help? Does he
wear those funky gauntlets? What about Batman?"

He is not going to ask. "I -- don't think I have quite
the same problem," Tim says, and it feels like the
right thing to say.

"Oh, but --"

"I'm human. Masturbation is -- adequate."

"But --"

Tim pushes Bart off his lap. Gently.

"Are you *sure*?"

Tim's hands are -- buzzing. A little. From the feel --
"I'm sure," he says, and ruthlessly dismantles the
images of Bart and Kon into their component parts.
Blushes, nudity, speed, *power* -- all of these can
belong to other things. "I'm sure," he says, again.

"Mm ah okay. Bye!"

Tim leans back against the couch and closes his eyes.
And starts again.