The old earth spins
by Te
August 1, 2008

Disclaimers: No one and nothing here is mine.

Spoilers/Timeline: AU-ized references to older storylines. Meant to take place not long before Tim's fifteenth birthday.

Summary: Tim pwns, Jason copes, and Bruce has a very good day.

Ratings Note/Warnings: Sexual content which does and does not dovetail neatly with the content some readers may find to be disturbing.

Author's Note: Third in The Young and the Battish series, starting a few weeks after the end of "A wondrous mirror." Will *not* make sense without the others.

Acknowledgments: To Pixie, Mildred, and Jack for audiencing, encouragement, hand-holding, and tireless efforts to make me keep writing in a language comprehensible to more than just the voices in my head.

*

Tim is reasonably sure she looks like a poorly-committed hedgehog.

This is not the first day that that thought was the first to come to mind upon looking in the mirror, and she frankly wonders how long it will *be* the first thought before she needs to pull her shaver out of storage.

She suspects that it won't take long, but --

She also suspects that she won't actually be able to restore the buzz. It's not that she can't do it quickly and evenly -- she's had plenty of practice -- but...

Jason.

Jason wants her to grow her hair out, and she has to admit that that sort of thing makes a difference -- and that's an understatement she can't even make within the privacy of her own mind without needing to snort a little, because -- really.

Somewhere -- about thirty minutes by car and about twenty by bike -- Barbara is laughing hard enough to hurt herself, and she probably knows *exactly* why. Tim had, after all, planted the cameras herself.

She waves at the one in the corner and starts brushing her teeth. It won't be long --

Jason pushes open the door -- it wasn't entirely closed, of course -- and grins at Tim in the mirror. "What, no shower? Or are you just getting ready to make it a really *good* one?"

The eyebrow she raises expresses 'what do *you* think?' well enough that Tim doesn't need to pause -- though the way Jason is moving *purposefully* behind her and -- yes -- putting his hands on her hips --

"Hell, yeah," he says, and pulls her back against him. Jason's smiles tend to be full-bodied, all-encompassing things, but the fact of the matter is that he's *exactly* as naked as she is and --

Yes. Tim lets her eyes narrow and spits in the sink --

Just in time for Jason to *rock* against her ass, slipping his penis into her cleft, and --

"Ah -- at the sink?"

"We can put a towel down if you're too cold, baby..."

Baby. She'll get used to that probably a week after *never*, but it seems to make him so *happy* -- no, she likes it. She really, *really* likes it, and likes the fact that it's always -- always -- an excellent excuse --

"Hey, *ow* --"

She didn't stomp on his foot *very* hard, and it gives her time to rinse her mouth out a little --

She *doesn't* spew mouthwash all over the mirror when he thrusts again, but it's a near thing. She shakes her head and spits *that* --

"Jason."

"Ooh, that didn't sound like a 'do me now, Jason.' Am I in trouble?"

She checks the mirror, and Jason's eyebrows are up and his mouth is twisted into that same crooked smile that always used to make everything *pause* inside her, make everything silent and irrelevant, because Robin is just that bright, just that --

That.

Tim gives up and stands up, reaching up and back to wrap her arms around Jason's neck --

"Mm, *that's* better..."

She smiles ruefully, watching herself in the mirror... The Tim in the mirror seems to be saying something -- eloquently -- about the pleasures of fatalism. "I was thinking... we could wait until we were actually *in* the shower. Rather more efficient."

"Hmm, yeah, we *could*," Jason says, stroking her hips before sliding his hands up over her abdomen, up to her nipples --

The Tim in the mirror is just as flat as -- she is. Just as obviously male, just -- but Batgirl is there in her eyes, in the way that her hip is cocked, the tilt of her head when Jason starts to *rub*. Or -- maybe it's not *Batgirl*, per se, but it's not really a boy, either. Is it?

"Mm," and Jason kisses her forehead and *keeps* rubbing her nipples with those callused fingertips, keeps --

"Jason, we -- really --"

"It's not that I keep forgetting how much you like me playing with your nipples, it's just that I keep getting *distracted*."

That's a blush, but it's going to *be* a flush, and that's -- better. Much better. Tim opens her eyes again and *just* watches her eyes, watches them widen and narrow again for every brush, watches them narrow *hard* for the pinch --

"God *damn*, you look good. You..." Jason swivels his hips, presses against the base of her spine -- "Maybe we can..."

What? Tim shifts to watch Jason's face -- he's frowning a little in concentration, licking his lips as he leans in... to lick one of the hickeys he's left on her neck. The bruise is dark and somewhat spectacular. A different -- better -- kind of obvious.

"Love the way you *taste*..."

"Dried sweat isn't --"

"Salty. Just -- *alive*."

"Jay..."

"Yeah," he says, and sucks lightly on the hickey, just enough that Tim can feel the sting of it, the potential for real pain -- and the pressure of his tongue is an ache, reminiscent of --

Of a lot of things, all at once, and Tim closes her eyes and thinks about every one of them, every --

He'd rimmed her again last night, in the bed, shoved his tongue *deep* and made her writhe, made her feel like something *purely* sexual, or perhaps also a little like a meal, or --

Something else to make her blush, and flush, and *want* --

The way he'd *moaned* --

"Touch me, Jay. Just -- move your hands --"

"Anything you *want* --"

She's shivering, just that fast, because he means it. She *knows* he means it, that there's nothing she can ask for that he won't want, won't *need* from her and only --

Only.

She raises up onto her toes, and he's stroking her *hard*, letting her feel all of his calluses on her abdomen, on her upper thighs, on her *throat* --

She means to hum, but at this point she can't be surprised that it's a growl, just as she can't be surprised that it makes Jason squeeze, just a little, makes him *push* against her back --

How had she gone *without* this for so long? How does *anyone* live without this? And she knows she's moving against him, rubbing on him like a cat in heat -- she spins enough to do it face to face, or...

She's breathing against his jaw, where *he's* bruised a little from one of her bites. She licks him there and thinks about biting him again, thinks about sucking -- she can smell him, and suddenly it's the only thing she *can* smell. His body in general, yes, that scent she'd searched for under armor and the Gotham night, and also his sex. His *want*.

He slides his hands down to her ass and squeezes, cups and *lifts* her, so *strong* --

She bites this growl into his neck, shaking her head a little --

"*Fuck* yeah, love that, love *you* --"

And he lifts her onto the edge of the sink, spreads her legs almost *rudely* and pushes closer -- rubs his penis against her. Just the head in little loops and arcs on her abdomen, getting her sticky, making her hot all *over*.

Tim reaches up for his shoulders and squeezes hard, opening her eyes again and --

"Oh. Jay..."

He's staring right at her as he drags the head over her skin, eyes narrow and lips parted, *focused* --

"*Robin* --"

Jason shakes his head. "Just me, baby. Just..." He sighs and it comes out on a low note. He tilts his head back and shudders. "God, no one feels like you, no one makes me feel like you --"

"The feelings -- are entirely mutual. I --" Tim squeezes his shoulders and strokes down over his pectorals, so broad and *hard*, scarred and so sleek, perfect. Down with her nails, and he twitches hard, gasps --

"Gonna touch me, baby? Gonna -- oh, God, yeah, wanna feel you --"

He's so *hard* for her, and knowing that she was making him hard all those nights on the street -- it's nothing against the feel of him *here*. Jason, who she's wanted so *badly* -- "You feel -- *you* should be sitting up here, letting me suck you --"

"No, no, just your hands for now, just -- mm," and Jason leans forward again and searches her face for something -- "You don't look... sometimes you'll look drugged for me, lost to it... tell me how to make you lose it *today*, Tim..."

Tim licks her lips and strokes Jason, sliding pre-come all over his penis, all over her hand -- "I... bite --"

And Jason shoves her hand off --

"Jay --"

He drops to his knees and grabs her ankles, squeezes hard enough to *hurt* a little and leans in to bite her calves, the insides of her knees, her thighs --

"Nn -- Jesus --"

"You didn't say *where*, baby --"

"*Right* there, oh fuck, ow -- *oh* --"

*Hard* sucking bite, on her inner thigh, and it makes her kick, makes her tense and groan, and she pushes a hand into Jason's hair, Jason's thick and curling hair, and she's seen the moonlight on it, seen it matted with blood from a scalp wound that had caused her to dislocate a man's kneecaps -- she tugs it hard and he bites her *harder*, and he's holding her thighs apart --

She's hard, of course. She's -- no, don't think that way, don't --

Just the bite, and the way it goes on and on, the way the mark will be there later for her to touch, for her to *press* --

("Oh, Tim. If I *didn't* know he looked worse than you do I'd have to sic Power Girl on him.")

Tim laughs and digs her fingers in against his scalp -- gasps when Jason pulls back with a wet sound, when he digs *his* fingers in against her thighs --

"Ready for more?"

"*Do* it -- *nng* --"

And he's on her other thigh, a little higher up, and he's stroking her almost restlessly, distracting from the sharp feel, the pain and *sweetness* --

"Your mouth. Your -- *Jay* --"

He nods and licks the skin he's holding between his teeth, gets it wet and Tim realizes that she's stroking her own abdomen with her free hand, all the places he'd marked her with his pre-come. So good, but not better than the grip she has on his hair, the way she can *make* him bite harder --

"Oh -- oh -- *no* --"

Hot stripe of his tongue up her thigh, wet *slash* of it, and Jason grabs her hips and pulls her off the sink a little, just enough that she's on her toes again and Jason scrapes his teeth on her abdomen, pulls at the slight fold of her navel --

Looks up at her, and maybe she's still not wild *enough* for him, because he moves his hand and bites her *hip* --

And her other one --

And her thighs again, and Jason's nuzzling at her now, breathing deep and growling as he moves all over her, *takes* --

She feels herself *twitch* and groans, shakes her head, groans again when he shoves his tongue in her navel and licks her abdomen, tastes his own pre-come and her *sweat*, and --

If anything, living here has been an *education* in all the ways she can be dirty and *disreputable*, the showers feeling meaningless, laughable against everything Jason can do to her, make her do, make her *want* --

"*Please* --"

"Please *what*, baby?"

And it's possible that she's glaring at Jason, but -- it's equally possible that she's *not*, given that she's not focusing very well at the moment --

Jason is grinning, mouth wet and red. Inviting. *Teasing* --

Tim does *not* knee him in the jaw --

And Jason's smile slips a little -- "Okay, too much, I get you, don't break anything *important* on me before I can make it up to you, now..."

Tim snorts and squeezes her eyes shut, opens them on the unhazed and wonderful view of Jason looking her *over*, planning his attack and looking utterly focused again, completely --

"Yeah, I got you," he says, and reaches up between her legs, pushing two fingers into Tim's cleft and rubbing until Tim realizes that she's panting, twisting for it --

"Tell me you want it --"

"*In* me, Jason. *Now* --" And the shout doesn't have enough air behind it to really echo around the room the way her other sounds do, *their* other sounds do --

Jason's finger is a *burn*, heat and roughness, pain and *perfection*, and Tim rocks back against it, humming and growling --

"*Yes*, Jay --"

"Always yes for this. Always --" Jason shakes his head and starts to thrust. "C'mon, tell me to suck you off, baby --"

"I -- just --"

"*Not* just this," and he crooks his finger, *twists* --

And Tim wants to brace her feet on something solid, something -- she puts one foot on Jason's working shoulder --

"Now don't push --"

She kicks him in the jaw *lightly* --

"Ooh, yeah, make me fucking *work* for it --"

And it makes him thrust harder, *faster*, turning the friction into something difficult to parse, something solid in its own right, a wall she's throwing herself against to get to the place where she's only being filled, only being *made* --

"God, the way you *feel*. This -- I never want to *hurt* you this way --"

"Don't *stop* --"

"I won't, because I know you like it, *need* it -- oh, yeah, curl your toes in a little, just --" He bites her ankle, sucks there, too, and Tim watches her toes splay and curl and splay again, listens to herself growl under her breath, just --

Just to *take* this until she's hot everywhere he isn't touching her, soothed where -- no, the other way around, or --

"Tell me -- tell me I can suck your beautiful cock, baby, let me get you wet, get you *harder* for me --"

Fuck, *fuck*, and it's always like this, always this moment when she wants everything she can have, wants to *be* Jason's girl, Jason's pretty, willing girl, and she'll do anything for it --

"I want you to come in my mouth, Tim, I want -- you taste so fucking *good*, baby --"

Flat and lean, all over. No curves, no -- nothing to hold *on* to, and she should be perfect for this, should be --

"C'mon, fill me up, push in deep and *make* me take you. You know I want it. You know I *need* it --"

And the sound she makes -- maybe it's the same as it always is, maybe he always makes her sound just that desperate, just --

"There's that look on your face. You know you're close, you know you can *give* me this and it'll be okay, it'll all be *okay* --"

It never is. It always is. It never -- she's not supposed to *want* this much. There should be control, or at least *consistency*, some kind of internal rule that will let her watch Jason lick his lips like this, let her *exist* with Jason on his knees in front of her, begging --

"*Please*, Tim. I -- I'll do anything for this, just a *taste* of you --"

Another noise and Jason's fucking her so *hard* now, giving her what she wants, and she can't just ignore --

"I need you *in* me --"

"J-Jay --"

"You *know* it'll be good, that I can make it good for you, make you -- "

"I -- do it. Just --" Just please, just don't, just --

And he's *on* her, and it's so hot, so wet and slick and good to be inside Jason, so sweet and *right*, even though she doesn't know who she is when he does this, doesn't know *what* she is --

Jason moans and Tim --

He --

She --

"Oh, *please*, Jay --" Her voice is so low, so *needy* and desperate, and she wants this to stop being so hard, she wants her mind to just *let* her body have this, because Jason says all the right things, all the *best* things --

Because Jason is still watching her as he sucks, cheeks hollowed and throat working --

She pulls his hair helplessly and tries not to --

She *thrusts* and Jason shudders and closes his eyes, keeps fucking her, keeps *sucking* her like it's nothing, like she's only his beautiful girl, and every other kind of thought in Tim's head is meaningless. And maybe --

There's only this. The rock of her hips, the feel of her sinking deep into Jason's mouth and the feel of Jason spearing her, burning her and holding her, not taking no for an answer. She'd told him to push hard *once* and he'd taken it to heart. He knows everything, and he still wants --

Still *needs* --

And the sound that comes out of her mouth *wants* to be Jason's name, but it isn't. She's too far for that, stretched out over herself like some person-shaped drum, beaten and *sounded* --

Jason's tongue --

Jason's finger and his *tongue*, his lips working her as she thrusts again and again, as she pulls him *in* against her and feels Jason's saliva running down over her mound.

She's crying out now, one shout after another, and the only relief is the knowledge that this won't last, that the thing at the base of her spine is tightening to the breaking point, that there's nothing Jason's mouth can do to soothe the ache, as opposed to making it deeper, *better* --

She wants to say Jason's *name* --

And then Jason grabs her hip with his other hand and squeezes, riding the motion and holding *on*. He --

He *has* her, and that has always been true, from the very first time Barbara had shown him to her in more than just blurry photographs and ridiculous fantasies --

*Jason* -- oh --

Her knees buckle and the burn inside turns *deadly* --

"*Please* --"

And she's spasming, jerking and spilling, imperfect for this, helpless for this and it feels so *good*, endless and momentary at once, so good, so --

Painful-sharp, and Jason pulls back as soon as she tugs, leaving Tim slick and cool and needy, ridiculous --

Jason stands and pulls her to him, kisses her hard and both of them are moaning. Perhaps Jason is because she is, perhaps the other way around -- Jason's penis is pressed to her abdomen, hot and so *slick* --

"Let me --"

"Just gimme a minute, Tim. I need to feel you, and -- please tell me you're shaking because it was good?"

"It. It was good. And I..." Can she be more ludicrous? Does she want to *know*? Tim laughs and tosses the hair that has no resemblance to hedgehogs, at all --

"Mm, BG. I *like* that laugh --"

"I -- ah. I had noticed," Tim says, and wraps her arms around Jason's neck. She feels... she feels exactly like she's had yet another wonderful orgasm, thanks to the efforts of one Jason Peter Todd. She feels calm and pleased, and something like whole in her own skin.

It's nearly always like this after an orgasm, and she's grateful. It allows her to *be* there for Jason, as opposed to trapped inside her own head. It means she can please in her turn, even if she's grasping a little desperately for the shreds of her identity.

Or -- something like that. Right here, right now, with Jason hard against her and holding on, with her arms wrapped around Jason's neck and the world taken over by the scent of sex, the love they make.... Tim blushes.

"Hey, everything okay?"

And maybe Jason wouldn't be who he is -- couldn't be *Robin* -- if he couldn't read her utterly. Tim sighs and pushes her hands into his hair, winds it around her fingers --

Gets held a little tighter, and she knows, deep within herself, that it would take a horrible accident with tar and possibly the entrails of babies to make Jason do more than just trim *his* hair.

She smiles and pushes up onto her toes to nuzzle his cheek, lick him there --

"Mm, yeah, sweet little tongue --"

"I'm fine. As good as I ever get, anyway."

Jason strokes down to her hips and squeezes. "I know it's too much for you sometimes, but I can't help -- you always come so *hard* when I suck you off."

Well. Tim raises an eyebrow. "I come pretty hard no matter *what* you do, Jason."

"Not the same and you know it," he says, squeezing hard enough to hurt a little.

"Jason --"

"*Tim*. You were fucking my *face*."

"I." He absolutely does not want an apology. It's possible that any attempts she made *toward* apology would lead to him getting pissed *off*. Still -- "I want to... apologize to myself. When I think about it," she says, and forces herself to watch Jason's face.

Watch him frown. "I don't understand."

Tim sighs and shrugs again. "It doesn't make very much sense at all, I know, but -- it's there. I'm your girlfriend, and *that* makes sense -- wonderful sense -- right up until it doesn't. And I know where to place the blame for that."

"Hey, I -- I'd *like* to think you'd be slamming your pussy against my face if you *had* one."

Another blush, and -- "Yes, of course, but I can't -- I don't pretend."

Jason strokes her hips, her ass, frowns more and nudges her with his chin, apparently just to feel the contact.

"Not at all."

"So... you're riding it, loving it, and all of a sudden you have to be a boy again? Like that?"

Tim smiles ruefully. "Pretty much. It's -- jarring."

"There are plenty of women in the world with dicks. Plenty in *Gotham*, for that matter."

Very, very true. But. "I can't exactly risk my identity to go looking for answers, Jason."

"No, I know, but... I could ask around? Or maybe there's some good books about it?"

And *that*... Tim laughs and tugs a little harder. "Bruce was giving me an extended tour of the manor about a week ago when you were having your run. As it happens, there's a shelf in the library filled with several books on the subject. He contrived to have me standing next to it while he explained the history of the library itself."

Jason blinks -- and snorts. "Yeah, okay, I'm *not* shocked," he says, and pats her ass. "Gonna read 'em?"

"I've been... perusing. It's a bit like discovering I'm actually in a room full of people when I'd thought I was alone."

"*Never* alone --"

"I know, Jay," and Tim scratches Jason's scalp a little. Just enough to make him push into the touch, narrow his eyes. "I'd like to talk about something else."

"Talk...? We could talk."

"Mm. Or... I could listen while *you* talked."

Jason shifts on his feet and pushes *that* much closer. "You know I got a *lot* to say, baby..."

"You often do," Tim says, and rubs against him, *feels* him and watches his lips part, watches him wet his lips with his tongue --

"Sometimes I think all those hours I spend *not* hard are just -- a complete lie."

"Certainly you make the times when you *are* aroused... vivid. Compelling, even," and Tim moves one hand out of Jason's hair and pushes it between them --

Jason grunts and closes his eyes as Tim scratches her way down his chest, opens them again when Tim tugs at the hair on his abdomen -- "You really do like doing that. Which is fucking great as far as I'm concerned --"

"You're not especially hairy... elsewhere."

Jason kind of... smirks. "Bruce told me once that I'd probably get hairier as I got older. Probably one stare too many at that chest of his. I'm pretty sure Dick got the same line. Squeeze me?"

Tim steps back against the sink, just far enough to be able to see her hand wrapped around Jason's penis, see herself squeezing while more pre-come leaks from the slit --

"God, I -- fucking love it when you look at me like that. You should see that face in the mirror sometime --"

"I imagine I look... avid," Tim says, stroking up just far enough to make it easy to get her thumb on the head --

"Mmm. Yeah, *that*. But also a little dangerous. Like maybe *this* time you'll really make me *pay* for pushing too hard."

Certainly, that's *an* idea... Tim curls her thumb *in* and rubs -- lightly -- with her nail --

"Oh, *Jesus*, yeah, I --" Jason moves his hands to Tim's shoulders and squeezes. "You totally want to suck me off."

"The idea had occurred."

"Heh. *Tim*."

"Yes, Jason...?" And Tim looks up and raises an eyebrow.

"You're kind of a prissy little bitch when you wanna be."

"I'm sure I don't know *what* you're talking about," she says, rubbing a little *harder* --

"Ah -- damn, baby, I can't -- can't take much of that --"

"You've enjoyed me using my *teeth* --"

"Different feeling *altogether*," Jason says, rubbing at Tim's shoulders and staring hard. "I'll show you, sometime."

Tim swallows and nods. "Yes, you will."

"BG..."

Tim gives him *that* smile and squeezes hard enough to make him wince and groan. "Grab your sac for me, Boy Wonder."

"Nuh -- *fuck*, no fair using *that* voice --"

"Life's not fair. Baby. *Do* it."

"Yes, *ma'am* --"

"And don't say a word to me until you're *begging*," Batgirl says, dropping perfectly to her knees, smiling to cut and squeezing *harder*.

Jason grunts and cups himself, rolls his sac in his palm and almost *presents* it to her --

Batgirl knows exactly how to respond to that. She pushes Jason's penis up against his abdomen and *darts* in --

"Fuck --"

Licks and kisses him hard, pressing with her lips and teasing herself with the hair there, dark and curling. The scent is pure Robin, the heat and heart of him, and Batgirl nibbles at the loose skin and thrills for the moan, the jerking spasm --

"Jesus. *Jesus* --"

"*Quiet*," she says, and Jason twitches in her hand, shivers all over --

She licks him again, using the flat of her tongue and catching his fingers, biting them when they shake again --

Another grunt and she bites harder, sucks on his sac and his thumb, thinks about it and sucks hard, scraping her teeth over and over until she knows he'll be marked, that he'll feel it like she'll feel her thighs. Robin takes so many *liberties* --

Robin is beautiful, beloved --

Robin needs to know his *place*.

And somewhere inside, Tim is laughing desperately, shocked a little by this, but all little boys -- and otherwise -- need to be shocked by Batgirl, need to be stunned and *taken*, one way or another. She licks her way up the shaft of Jason's penis and scrapes her teeth on the way down, shifting her fingers to get them out of the way before gripping him again.

The shadows shift and change, and she knows that Jason is holding on to the sink, that he *needs* something solid, because this is doing exactly what it should, because *she's* doing exactly what he needs.

Jason --

Batgirl growls and wants to flex, wants to rub the sweat all over her skin, wants to bury herself in Robin until she's that much *stronger* --

It's enough, for the moment, to nip at his penis everywhere her hand isn't, to follow the twitch and shove her tongue at the slit, over and over --

"*Fuck* --"

It's quiet, nearly whispered, but it's still too *much*, and Batgirl turns her teeth on his sac again, sucks and nibbles until he's shaking, until he's panting and every breath comes out on a high note.

*He's* sweating now, shuddering and slick, and it feels perfect to slide her free hand up to his thigh, to scratch at his scars and reach up to pet and scratch at his ass while she keeps working his sac.

So vulnerable as it tightens up, so... he's harder and *thicker* in her hand, needy and wanting, and Batgirl knows the begging will start soon. Batgirl never doubts, never *fears*. Batgirl knows she's the most beautiful thing in Jason's world, and that she's free to do anything -- *everything* -- she could ever think to want.

She growls again and sucks on the head, cleaning it with her tongue and then just feeling it, tasting Jason, tasting Robin --

Tim wants to moan, but it's better not to, better to be able to look up and see Jason staring, to hold herself still inside for the need in his eyes, the confused pleasure and, yes, just a hint of apprehension.

Batgirl smiles a little wider and pulls off slowly, lips connected to the head by a thin string of saliva and pre-come --

"*Please* --"

Batgirl shows her teeth and fakes a lunge for his sac again --

Jason tenses and *thrusts*, pushing into her fist and moaning -- "Please, baby, your *mouth* --"

Batgirl licks his fingers and up over the shaft again, tasting him and tasting her own saliva. Tim --

Tim can't help but know how much Jason *loves* her mouth, that he's had a thousand fantasies if he's had one, that it's something he never gets tired of, if only because the feeling is so very, very mutual.

Batgirl growls around Jason's penis and Tim drools, *wants* --

"Oh fuck, oh *God*, baby, please take me in, please suck me --"

Jason should never beg, even if Robin was born to be on his knees. Jason --

It's too much *not* to suck, and taking just the head feels like cheating both of them. There's too much *space* in Tim's mouth, and Batgirl still wants to tease, wants *this* tease and the way Jason is shaking, the way he's pleading and *needing*, but --

But --

"Jesus, *yes*, so hot, oh, your mouth -- Tim -- BG, *please* --"

Too much, and the lesson learned -- perhaps the most important one to date -- is that it's really quite all right if Batgirl doesn't *always* get her way. Tim moves her hand to the base of Jason's penis and goes down until she can crush her mouth against her fist, get it swollen, get it *softer* --

"Ah, fuck *me*, baby, that's so *good* --"

Jason's still holding his sac, and it has to feel almost *tender* now, but he doesn't resist at all when Tim covers his hand with her own and makes him squeeze --

"*Love* it when you're mean. Fucking do me, take what you *want* --"

Right now. Right --

Right now that means letting *go* of Jason's penis and swallowing until the motion matches the need, until he's *inside*, socketed tight and perfect, moaning and cursing and *flexing* with tension, with the need not to thrust until *she* says he can.

Oh, he *loves* it, all of it, and it turns taking into its own kind of gift, something else she can do *for* Jason, someone else she can be. And if Batgirl was never supposed to be for anyone but Gotham and -- sometimes -- Barbara Gordon, then...

She doesn't know, and right *now* she doesn't care. The important thing -- the *only* thing -- is keeping Jason right where he is, sucking him and holding him, tasting him and *keeping* him --

"Love *you*, love -- the way you feel, the way you *touch* me, like I'm all yours, like I'm your fucking *toy* -- yeah, *make* me squeeze myself. Jesus, no one gives a blowjob like *you*."

Batgirl knows it. Tim has to blush, but she's too flushed for it to make a difference, too *primed* for this, and if Jason lasts much longer she's going to be hard again, maybe confused again --

Or maybe not. It's always better when this just keeps *going*, when they touch and touch until they're too exhausted to do more than writhe and roll against each other, nuzzle sleepily and whisper fragments of larger truths --

It's possible that she should've taken a deeper breath before swallowing Jason down, but it's not like that's relevant to anything she's going to do *now*. She's not going *anywhere*, and neither is Jason.

He's shifting and tensing more with every breath, and now he's petting her with his shaking hand -- "Love you, love you so much, no one but you, never anyone but you --"

And there's always a part of her which wants to protest that. Surely Dick is proof that Robins grow out of many things, including loving Batgirl, but protesting would feel like jinxing things, like *asking* for the loneliness she'd grown up with, the cold --

She never wants to be *cold* --

And the only thing to do is to reach for his hip with her free hand, to squeeze with her other hand and to *pull* --

Listen to Jason shout and *demand* --

And the first thrust is always the hardest, the feel of him slipping out of her throat, sliding out from between her lips -- it takes forever, an eternity --

*In*, and Batgirl would never gulp like this, never get caught *between* breaths until the mindless body-fear takes over and makes *her* shake --

"Please -- *please* --"

Suck and swallow, suck more, and follow when he pulls out again, listen to him whimper and *beg* as he thrusts in again -- and again, fast and rough --

"Can't stop, can't fucking *stop* --"

Perfect. Just -- Tim hums and it gets choked off, scratches at Jason's hip and gets her hand *clutched* --

"With me, just -- fucking *with* me, so good, so perfect, never -- need you --"

*Jason*, filling her and fucking her, and it's as good as it always is, as *right* to be on her knees and taking this, *having* this, and there've been so many smudged Gotham dawns when all she's had was the scent of armor and the memory of rough kisses, *demanding* kisses, and her bed hadn't smelled like anyone but herself, and the pillow was no replacement for crumbling brick walls --

Once, just once she had knelt by the side of her bed and buried her face in the duvet, stroked at the air which wasn't Jason's thighs and moved like she was having just this, up and down, swallowing and sweating, biting back the whimpering *need* --

She hadn't cried for that need, or for the way her mindlessly *functional* penis had risen and bobbed, begged wordlessly for something that wasn't *right* --

Once, *just* that time, she'd growled and sat back on her heels before stripping herself furiously, failing to pretend it was anyone's penis but her own...

This is better, so *much* better that it feels like a dream, like --

"*Tim* --"

And Jason *grips* the back of her head and pulls her in, holds her there with perfect and implacable *strength* --

"Sorry, so -- baby, I -- *please* --"

The last is barely a word, rough noise and heat spreading and coiling out from her spine as Jason's knees buckle --

She's strong enough to hold him as he shudders and comes, spurting right down her throat, so warm --

So *good* -- until Jason tears his hand away from her head and staggers back, still shooting. He gets her cheek and they gasp together, and Jason's in serious danger of braining himself in the *tub* --

He catches himself, obviously almost *clawing* for balance while Tim watches and -- wants. Jason's flush, Jason's bitten lower lip, Jason's flexing thighs --

Robin is so, so beautiful.

Tim stands up and *moves* for him, reaching up -- and getting pulled into a hug that shoots past fervent and nearly reaches *vicious*. "Jay --"

"Holy fucking *shit*, baby."

Mmm. "Should I be asking you if you're all right?"

Jason's laugh is high and cracked, breathy -- he squeezes her even tighter --

"Oof --"

"You just worked me like -- like -- I don't even fucking *know*. Hell, *yeah*, I'm all right," and he kisses her forehead, her cheek -- *licks* her cheek until she laughs and then pushes her back to grin at her.

Tim smiles back and watches Jason's smile soften, shift -- The kiss is soft and gentle, telling her so many *things* she wants to believe in, that she *does* believe in when she's not watching herself, when all she can do is *live* in herself. Tim reaches up and wraps her arms around Jason's neck -- Jason pulls back.

The light in his eyes is impossible not to fall into -- "I'm gonna be grinning *all* day. Bruce is gonna have to beat the crap out of me to get me to pay *any* kind of attention."

Bruce, who has been... rather absent, even by her limited judgment --

Jason's smile slips. "Shit, he's -- totally going to let me fuck around all day because he'll be *busy*. I don't suppose he told *you* what the hell he'd be doing all day?"

Tim frowns and strokes the back of Jason's neck. "He did mention something about spending more time at WE."

Jason sighs and slips his hands down to Tim's hips before letting himself fall back against the wall. "And you know, if I *asked* him he'd probably say something about how I know enough to keep myself in fucking trim without him hovering over me..."

"You do," she says, quietly --

"*So* not the point. Damn, I really didn't want to lose my afterglow all that fast. It's like an *insult* to *you* --"

"*I'm* fine, Jay." Mostly, really, and it's not like she hadn't known that there was a *Batman* for her Robin. "I know how much the... awkwardness with Bruce is upsetting you."

"When I'm with you... when you're here, that's the only thing I care about, but then I feel this fucking *pull* --"

"He's your partner," Tim says, pushing her hands into his hair and holding on. "It's only reasonable that the difficulty would... mess with your head, a little."

"'The difficulty.' Right." Jason shakes his head. "I should be *glad* he keeps doing fades. It gives me more time with you, and it means that I don't have to worry about what his looks mean, don't have to listen to everything he says like it's a *clue*..."

"Except for how the exact opposite is true."

"Fuck, I'm sorry, baby. I just keep tripping over it. I miss -- hell, I miss *bonding* with him over how crazy you make me, and if that's not the stupidest thing --"

Tim pushes on a pressure point in Jason's neck --

"I'm listening," he says, and smiles ruefully.

"It's -- you don't exactly have very many *friends*, Jason --"

"Neither do you --"

"And Bruce is one of them. The fact that he's around much less... it has to hurt. And -- I'm still with you. And I'll get Barbara on his case, too."

"No, no, just -- what if it *has* to be this way? What if it's too hard for him to *deal* with -- God, that makes it sound like I think I'm fucking *irresistible*."

Tim smiles. "Well."

"*Oh*, no," and Jason snorts. "*You* resisted me for a fucking *year* --"

"You *helped* with that, if I recall correctly. Never pushing *too* hard, always being *considerate* --"

"Bending you back over your bike, shoving you against walls, tripping you on rooftops --"

"*Still*," Tim says, and winds her fingers in Jason's hair. "Maybe it *is* too hard for him. Or maybe he's just hiding because he's worried about being too much in your space. It wouldn't hurt to find *out*."

Jason sighs again and strokes her hips. "You're so beautiful. And... you don't mind? This?"

Tim smiles a little wider and isn't really all that surprised to discover that she means it. "I like him, too. He's kind and brilliant, loving, generous. *I'd* like to be his friend, and that's not going to happen so long as he's avoiding us."

"But he's *not* avoiding you. Not really." And Jason frowns. "He's not... he did *say* he was attracted to you. That night, when we talked."

Tim blinks. "You hadn't... mentioned."

"I -- yeah," Jason says, letting go and scrubbing his hand back through his hair. "I really didn't. I didn't want to put that on you then, and then after that... I was pretty busy not thinking about it."

"He -- he said? That?"

"Oh, hell, he's not -- I know he won't do anything. I *know* that, and --"

"No, I --" Tim shakes her head. "I didn't think he would. I just find that... um. Very interesting."

"*Very* interesting? Like -- interesting how?"

Which... jealousy there, probably *reflexive*, which makes it deeply flattering, but *really* -- "Interesting like it's a bit intimidating. And difficult to credit. He really said...?"

Jason flushes and grabs her hips again --

"Yes, all right, he *really* said." Tim shakes her head again and tries to think about it in something like a rational manner. Bruce finds *her* attractive, and Jason wasn't surprised by that, at all. Well, Jason *knows* Bruce, probably even better than he *thinks* he does, and knowing what Bruce would find attractive in another person has to be just one of those things. Still...

She can't help thinking about dancing with him, about walking through the manor beside him, about the last time they'd had breakfast together when she'd left Jason sleeping *just* that deeply...

And *that* was there the whole time. Unless... maybe now that he knows her better he's not *as* attracted?

"You still okay?"

"I --" Tim blushes. "It's a bit -- um. Hard to deal with?"

Jason smiles ruefully, a little trouble in his eyes, and pets her sides, slips his hands around to her back to pet her there. "Yeah."

"It -- doesn't change anything. Or. I suppose I mean that it shouldn't. He's hardly... he hasn't been my closest friend for years."

Jason nods and the trouble gets a little louder. "So maybe you *won't* be on his ass to come back and be an actual *part* of our screwed-up little family?"

Well... "No, not that. I still think it's important that... it has to be *easier* if we're all, well, used to each other. For everyone."

"I *agree*, but -- that doesn't mean I wouldn't understand if you were a little too freaked."

Is that what she is? Something to consider. "I'll let you know if things get too weird for me, Jason. At the moment, I'm mostly thinking about breakfast and training."

Jason raises his eyebrows.

Tim raises her own... and then gives up and snorts. "Okay, fine, I'm thinking about Bruce, and my relationship with him, and *your* relationship with him, and whether or not Barbara would have any insights to share, and what the hell I *did* to make him attracted to me --"

"Hey, no --"

"And I know that's the exact most unhealthy way I *could* think about it, but look at it from my perspective -- I spent a great deal of time and effort figuring out how to be attractive to *you* -- and distracting to the criminal element. I was *trained* to believe in the power of my own sexuality, to think of it as one of the weapons at my disposal --"

"And you use it *really* fucking well -- and can I just say, here, that I'm going to be spending a *lot* of time thinking about that blowjob? Because I absolutely will, and I was starting to think you *wouldn't* ever be like that --"

"Did you... ah." Distraction is a wonderful thing, if you know how to actually *use* it, if only on yourself, but -- "You seemed to really enjoy that."

"Batgirl decided to fucking *take* me. Of *course* I enjoyed it."

Tim smiles and tugs on Jason's hair. "I've been... rough with you before."

"*Not* like that. You get *wild* with me all the time -- never fucking change, please -- but that wasn't wild at all. That was -- controlled. Vicious. Fucking *dirty*."

And possibly the smile is just going to keep getting wider until she splits her head open. "I've thought about doing that before. Not all the time, or even especially often, but... well."

"Please *God* never run out of fantasies about me," Jason says, grinning and lifting his chin a little. Showing off the bruises she's left over the past few weeks. It really is a good thing their uniforms cover as much as they do, though what they're going to do when school starts...

Will she be joining Jason at Eston? Probably, and just as probably there'll be a uniform tailored to Tim Drake's specifications at the *end* of the summer. A jacket and tie, a guidance counselor urging her toward extracurricular activities, with all of the other -- right.

And Jason cups Tim's face and kisses her once, briefly.

Tim bites his lower lip. "I'm still here."

"And thinking about a million other things," Jason says, and pets her hair --

"I hate my hair, you know."

"Just let it grow a little more. I'll dye it red for you. A *dark* red."

"Mm. That would match my coloring a little better, I suppose. And -- we've lost the thread a bit. I don't really *blame* myself for Bruce's... for his attraction to me, but I can't help wondering if I did something I could possibly use in other contexts."

Jason blinks, and -- no, that probably wasn't what he'd expected at all. Not from *Tim*.

Tim lets her smile get sharper and runs a fingernail down the back of Jason's neck. "You never know what will prove useful, in the long run."

"Uh -- wow. That's kind of *cold*, baby."

Batgirl would shrug and dance away. Tim digs in a little harder with her nail. "Sometimes heat takes effort."

Jason rubs at Tim's scalp with his fingertips. "*You* spent too much time with Selina."

"Did I...? Maybe I'm just that cold, down deep inside." And maybe that's just too true --

"Well, if you are..." Jason pulls Tim against him and squeezes. "Then I'll just have to heat you up."

And -- there's nothing like being in Jason's arms. The shallow feel of them around her -- so strong and *large* -- and the more nebulous sorts of feelings. Warmth that goes beyond what they make between them with their bodies, satisfaction that goes *well* beyond the sex. Tim breathes against him, breathes him into herself and thinks about being fucked again --

"Shower?" Jason kisses her forehead again.

Cleanliness, food, training. The *freedom* to train all day if she wants to, and the tantalizing hints of responsibility attached to same. Of course Batgirl should be as good as she *can* be... other things can wait. "Shower," she says, and gives in to the urge to laugh when Jason walks them into the tub, maintaining the maximum amount of physical contact with every step.

It's becoming something of a routine, really, as well as a small daily adventure -- if he uses *just* his fingertips to turn the water on again, how likely are they to be either frozen or scalded?

And, of course -- how little will she care?

The water hits lukewarm and firm, and another moment's small excitement is lost.

And gained, again, when Jason leans in to kiss her.

*

It only takes a minute for Jason to throw on shorts and a t-shirt -- about as ratty as Alfred allows his clothes to get before they disappear entirely, though if Jason actually mentions that one item or another is a favorite, they do get to stay -- and then it's time to head down.

Tim always takes a little longer in her room -- and closes her door for it, too. Jason knows she isn't really making herself pretty or anything like that, but he suspects that she thinks about it. If he concentrates, he can almost *see* her sitting at that vanity and arguing with herself, and while he'd really like to *help* with that, to at least make things easier --

She needs her privacy, and she actually *wants* it, too, and that means he can damned well get down the stairs by himself.

As has become usual, there's no sign of Bruce at the breakfast table, even though they'd both gotten up early enough that Jason's here at pretty much his usual time.

Jason strokes the empty space where Bruce's plate is supposed to be and lets all of the frown out onto his face. It's the *kind* of frown that tends to bring Alfred out of the woodwork if not Bruce himself, but he's really not surprised that his little half-assed attempt at a magic trick didn't work.

And he *does* need to eat, and he knows that Alfred is making sure that *Bruce* has eaten, wherever he turns out to be. Jason sighs and hits the sideboard.

And he's halfway done when Tim finally comes in, which -- "What happened? You okay?"

She waves a hand and almost seems to sleepwalk through getting things from the sideboard. And that... Jason frowns again, and watches her sit down with a full plate.

And stare at it, or -- more likely at nothing at all. "Tim?"

"I --" She laughs, softly, and looks up at Jason. "When you woke up to a closet full of clothes... I."

She looks almost *shocky*, and Jason reaches across the table to cover one of her hands. "Hey, what... present in your closet?"

"Presents. Plural. I... was it Alfred who chose the clothes for you?"

Jason rubs her knuckles. "Uh. It was Alfred who did the shopping, yeah, and he probably chose the suits and stuff, but... Bruce is the detective. I figure he took one look at me and *knew* the clothes I wanted."

"I see. That... that makes sense," she says, closing her mouth and shaking her head. "That little -- that *fear* I mentioned before --"

"Dresses?"

"Dresses and a couple of... I guess I would call them pantsuits. All my other clothes are still there, but... well." She shakes her head again. "I suppose... I don't know what I suppose."

Jason winces a little and squeezes her hand. "It was... I think it was probably a gift. And one that can go right *back*, if you want --"

Another laugh, and Tim spins her fork over her fingers. "I'm trying to decide if it's a dream or just a nightmare I can't help enjoying. I... you've had nightmares like that, haven't you? A fight that wouldn't end, a *night* that wouldn't end --"

"The former, mostly. Just -- one asshole after another. Some I recognized, some without faces, and they just kept getting up, kept coming for me no matter what I did, even if it was really fucking nasty --"

"Until you wind up. Wind up killing someone," she says, and looks into his eyes --

She's not searching him for confirmation, which is awful, but it's also... they know each other well enough now that she wouldn't need confirmation for that, at all. "Yeah. I... I love those dreams until I hate them, and I always wake up rock hard and fucking terrified."

Tim nods. "Yes, exactly. The clothes... they're really very..." She growls and stabs down with the fork -- stops before the tines bend. Or gouge the table under the cloth, for that matter.

"Tim --"

"They're perfect. I haven't even *thought* about what kinds of things I would choose for myself, what *colors* I would pick, but they were all right there. All in my size. I didn't try any of them on, but I really wouldn't *have* to, would I?"

"Probably not, no... damn. This is really fucking with you --"

"*Yes*, it's fucking with me --" She growls again and drops the fork. "Is it some kind of message? Am I supposed to just -- just fucking *deal* with the fact that I'm a walking mass of gender confusion? Because -- oh, yes -- he *also* provided me with several suits designed for *men*."

Jason winces again. "Baby, Tim, it's not -- I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have done it if he thought it would make you feel like this. This is probably the *last* thing he wants --"

"I *know* that. I -- hell. They're so... I think I would look very good in them, Jason --"

"Yeah, well, I fucking *bet* --"

"And that makes it worse, kind of." She laughs again, low and almost desperate-seeming. "There are shoes, too. Handbags. Stockings, garters..."

He's *seen* her in garters, and it's really -- really, *really* -- not what he should be thinking about right now. *Damn*.

"He just... wanted to give me something," and her voice is quiet and a little tired. "I used to... go shopping. Around your birthday. I never bought anything, but I... I."

And that... it makes something clench inside him, or maybe that feeling has more to do with heat, pressure... "Yeah?"

Tim picks up her fork again and drags the tines over the tablecloth. "Yes. Just... little things. A t-shirt with something stupid and funny written on it, a boot knife that you'd never actually be able to carry... though I suppose you could *now*..." She looks up and smiles. "I wanted to give you things. I still do, of course. Even more, but... I think I can understand where Bruce was... coming from."

"I... yeah," Jason says, and turns her fork toward her plate --

"You, *too* --"

"I will, I will... it's just that --" Jason sighs and leans back, and deliberately forces himself to eat some eggs, a little ham. It's the dark kind of ham that's probably imported from somewhere, and eating it with eggs always makes him feel like a *complete* peasant -- but a happy one.

And it makes Tim eat some of her cereal, too.

Whatever the spell is, it's broken, and they eat quietly for a few minutes. Jason's watching that frown line on Tim's forehead, but it's not getting any worse, so... so.

He *wants* to see what Bruce had bought for her, and he knows full well that he's going to want to see her *in* that stuff...

And probably Bruce will, too. And maybe not even in any kind of pervy way. Maybe just to watch Tim being happy that she's beautiful, beautiful in a way she can believe in easily...

And Tim's watching him right back. Jason swallows and smiles ruefully --

Tim smiles back, and --

And. "You know, I don't know your birthday."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Wasn't it in the file, Jason...?"

"Heh. Yes, and it still *is*, but it's not like I studied the thing. Just -- the necessary facts. Just enough that I wouldn't fuck up too badly when you got here. You *know* that."

"I -- yes," she says, and looks down for a moment before smiling. "July eleventh."

"Yeah? Pretty soon."

"Mm. Perhaps Bruce will buy me a boob job."

Jason -- yeah, he's gotta wince for that --

"Sorry, that was -- sorry," Tim says, and turns to eat some of her fruit.

Subject change *now* -- "Why don't you mix it in with your cereal?"

She looks at him like he's crazy *and* like she knows exactly why he'd asked such a stupid question in the first place. "Order. Control," she says, picking up a chunk of peach on her fork and dipping it into the cereal bowl just *so*.

"You're seriously measuring the *exact* amount of milk --"

"And cereal fragments --"

"And cereal *fragments* -- that peach gets to have."

She raises an eyebrow and pops the peach into her mouth, narrowing her eyes in pleasure and humming.

"You -- you have never eaten a chili dog in your life, have you?"

And yeah, Tim makes a face, but they both know that she's exaggerating. And that she's only exaggerating a *little*.

Jason snorts and finishes off his juice. "There's gotta be something unhealthy you like."

"Fries. Potato chips. Grape Happy Rangers."

"Now you're talkin'. Cookies? Brownies?"

She waves a hand. "I'm not averse to them."

Jason pushes his plate aside and leans in again. "Juicy thick cheeseburgers?"

"Do you know what's *in* the kind of beef used in the average restaurant?"

Jason waves a hand. "You'll *never* see that kind of meat *here*."

"Well, no, but -- making Alfred use what he *does* purchase to make a cheeseburger --"

"It's *good* for him. Keeps him sharp."

Tim snorts and takes her last bite of fruit. "I do like them, yes."

"*With* fries."

"And pickles, yes --"

Ew. "Pickles are the source of all that is wrong with the world. You and Dick can keep them to yourselves."

The light is back in her eyes, dancing the way it always *should* -- "Cotton candy."

"*Excellent* choice. Funnel cake?"

"Empty *carbs* --"

"*Delicious* empty carbs," Jason says, and takes her hands in his own. Strong and hard, so *small* like the rest of her... how much bigger will she grow? Something to ask Bruce. Would Tim want to know?

"Whatever you say, Jason," and the smile behind her face is coming out, beaming out almost...

Sometimes he thinks it must hurt her, a little, to keep so much back, that it would *have* to hurt -- "I love making you smile."

Teeth, and a blush. "We should go train. It's *possible* Bruce will be working -- or working out."

"He has to do it *sometime*. Hell, maybe we should try to jump him in the early *morning*. I *know* he works a lot then. When he *should* be sleeping."

"It's a thought. Though I have to admit I'd miss our... usual activities at that time of day."

Ooh. And also -- "Uh. Wow. Yeah. This is me, not trying to fast *forward* to five in the damned morning --"

She laughs and squeezes his hands before letting go and standing up.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. And thinking about coming *on* you --"

"Mm. You *do* that," she says, and walks ahead of him, fast and light. Not much of a sway this morning -- the only person Jason knows with more different walks than Tim is *Bruce* -- but there's a little.

Just enough to keep Jason *nice* and focused on their way to the study, and down into the Cave proper.

Focused enough that he's walking to the console before he really takes a look *around* --

Bruce isn't there. Dammit.

Alfred's *dusting* the monitors when there shouldn't even be time for him to do it. It's *training* time. "Al..."

"Master Bruce is, I believe, in a meeting with Lucius Fox," Alfred says, without turning around. "He promised that he would return home after the meeting's end."

And that was kind of... full. Of something. Something probably a lot like *Alfred* getting on Bruce's case a little, and... yeah. He can go with that. "Thanks, Al. I mean that."

Alfred's smile doesn't get any farther than the corner of his mouth, but they're absolutely hearing each other. Okay, then.

He joins Tim for his stretches, pulling out an extra inch here and there just because she makes it look so damned *easy* and thinks about Bruce's hands on his back, his arms --

Thinks about being guided into these moves and never pushed, about warmth and that sort of... that *solidity*, and the way Bruce made it easy to think of him as more of a foundation than a man. He misses that, and he knows he's never really going to have that again.

It's -- he was never supposed to *let* any one person be a foundation for him, as opposed to building one within himself and sticking to it. And this -- all of it from the new uniform to the fact that he *has* to deal with the fact that Bruce is just a man...

Maybe it was time for him to just grow *up*, and never mind the fact that he'd thought he'd done just that. Teenagers -- and he's known this for years -- are made to be really fucking stupid.

When he pulls up out of the quad stretch Tim is looking at him with a quiet kind of curiosity. She's got her leg bent up to her body and one toe pointed up at the stalactites, but she's not showing anything even *resembling* strain... yeah. Jason smiles ruefully. "I'm okay."

She nods and moves to stretch her other leg. "I think I'll hit the weights today."

"Yeah?"

"Upper body," she says, and her smile is kind of sharp and private. "If I'm going to lure Bruce into training me more... I'll have to be prepared."

That... well. "Heh. I kinda don't know what to say to that. I mean, I could say something about helping you get *huge*, or I could say something about how you probably never *will* be huge, but -- uh."

She turns the smile on him. "E for Effort."

"*Noted*," Jason says and rolls up to his feet. "Maybe we can get a spar in today."

"Mm. That would be... pleasant," she says, and stands up, too, shaking out her legs -- and going up on her toes.

And he probably *shouldn't* be getting distracted *this* way, but -- "He got you shoes, too? Heels?"

"And lots of them. Strappy, playful, formal, vicious, potentially *deadly*..."

"Damn, I... uh."

"You want to see me in them. I know. I want to see me in them, too," she says, and squeezes Jason's shoulder on the way over to the weights.

Right. Jason starts on a run, keeping his pace light until he feels good and settled in himself. It's been a couple of years since he's given himself a cramp, but it still pays to be careful.

And... he can *see* Bruce building a perfect image of Tim in his head before sketching out designs for the shoes, or studying the online catalogs of whatever ridiculously expensive shop he'd decided to order from. Or, hell. Maybe he'd just asked Babs for Tim's measurements...

No, Jason doesn't think so. He'd want to keep this to himself, and he'd -- hey.

Jason jogs over to the cars and -- yeah. There is definitely a new bike. A fucking *incredible* new bike, the same green as his uniform and parked next to Batgirl's, just waiting for him to take it out tonight.

It's *bigger* than his old bike, and looks one fuck of a lot meaner, too, and *when* had Bruce... Jesus, was he working in one of the satellite Caves or something?

Was he even *sleeping*? Just -- it's a *great* fucking bike, and he will absolutely use it -- hell, let it use *him* -- but... god fucking *dammit*. Jason reaches out and taps for the hidden compartment --

Compartments *plural*, because one has caltrops, another has smoke pellets, and another has an emergency grapple and de-cel line. The fourth has shuriken with a blood-in-arc-sodium gleam to them.

Jason shivers and looks over the engine... damn. Just -- damn. He'll be able to *burn* through the city on this thing, and there's more than enough room for a passenger, and -- damn.

Even Tim's bike looks a little sad next to this one, and Batgirl has *always* had more power between her legs than Robin. It won't last, though. The *second* Babs sees him on this thing, Tim will be getting an upgrade. Assuming Bruce isn't already working on one for her... no. If he was, he would've given them together, and --

Jason catches himself stroking the seat. Run. He was *running*, and never mind the fact that Bruce is letting his money do the talking -- no.

It's more than that. The money is just the... lubricant, or whatever. The thing that *lets* Bruce give them what he thinks they might want, to make sure they know he cares, and is thinking about them...

And if Bruce were here, Jason would pretty much have to punch him. Jason *knows*, and hell, *Tim* knows, and it's not enough. They need -- they need *him*.

Jason keeps running, notes Alfred heading up the stairs and Bruce still not being there, notes Tim working herself quiet and steady... Dick. Dick's in New York doing God knows what with the Titans, and the hell of it is that if Jason asked him, if he told Dick that Bruce was being the Incredibly Absent Partner... Dick would be right there, tearing Bruce a new one and maybe also getting closer to letting Bruce apologize for being such a prick four years ago.

It would be *good*, for all of them, because the last thing Bruce wants to do is disappoint Dick again, and -- yeah.

It's just that Dick would want to know -- *need* to know -- *why* Bruce was being so standoffish, and if Jason didn't tell him or pretended not to know... God, Bruce *might*.

It would fit with his whole confessional *thing*, and also with whatever drove him to punish himself. Because Dick sure as fucking *shit* would be doing some punishing and... man. It's fucking *inconvenient* to have an older brother, sometimes.

And he wants to laugh at that, except that then he'd have to think about the rest of his family, and... he really *had* told Bruce that he was his son. He'd *meant* it, but there's more than that there, and less, too. He already had a father, and a mother, too, and --

And. Bruce is still more of a father than he'd ever really had, and that's just *part* of their relationship. It *had* been part of what made it so good, so fucking *great*, but now...

Now it's pretty damned fucking inconvenient, too, because if Bruce *isn't* hating himself for that, then Jason doesn't know him at all. Does *he* think of himself as Jason's father? Had he ever wanted to?

Why *had* Bruce adopted him when he'd never done anything of the kind with Dick? He can guess, and maybe theorize a little -- it sure as hell had to act like kind of a chastity belt for Bruce. You can maybe fuck your *ward*, but you damned well better not think of your son that way. Or --

Had he wanted Dick? Jason had never asked, and he still doesn't really *want* to know, but... maybe it would help put things into context, help him *understand*. If he put the question to Bruce *that* way, he might even get an answer.

Dick is... Dick was nothing like him when he was Robin, but then, neither is Tim. They all look more like Bruce -- in various ways -- than they look like each other, if you ignore the black hair/blue eyes thing...

Jason doesn't know, and it's been *years* since he's been so damned *unsure* about what was going on in Bruce's head, and it's extra fucking ugly, because back *then*...

Back *then* he couldn't sleep for waiting for Bruce to walk into his great big bedroom and demand a little gratitude. Which is not the point, and nothing -- *really* nothing -- like what Bruce actually wants, but --

The feeling is still there, waiting for Jason to trip over it and fall into being twelve again, scrawny and hungry and scared every minute of every fucking day. Shit. Never again. Just -- *never*. Especially because the *second* Bruce sees thoughts like that on Jason's face he'll be even more of a fucking ghost.

*That* -- he knows in his bones.

So he keeps running, letting his stride lengthen enough that every step is the satisfying kind of stretch, and on his second to last lap --

Bruce, on the stairs, loosening his tie and moving not quite easily *enough*. Had he gotten injured last night? He'd been MIA by the time he and Tim had gotten back, and there hadn't been bandages around or anything, but it's not like Bruce doesn't know how to clean up after himself. Damn, damn, fucking shit *damn*.

If he *had* gotten hurt --

No, not right now. He needs this run, and Bruce wouldn't want him to cut his training to worry about *him*, and whether or not Bruce has any *right* to dictate what he's thinking --

Jason focuses.

And by the time he's jogging back to the working area, Tim is up on the mats and Bruce is showing her a kata that -- Jason doesn't actually know. Hunh.

Of course, it only takes a moment to figure out *why* -- it calls for the kind of flexibility that even *Bruce* doesn't really have. It's pretty damned impressive to watch him *almost* get the motions -- he's still mostly in his suit, except for the missing tie, shoes, and socks -- and it's even more impressive to watch Tim fucking *nail* them, one after another.

"Damn, that looks good," Jason says, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"It brings back... memories," Bruce says, and shifts into the next movement.

It -- it really is the first non-Mission related thing Bruce has said to him in almost three fucking days, and Jason blows out a breath. "Yeah? Any good ones?"

Bruce doesn't say anything -- he turns and fixes Tim's stance, then has her do it again.

Tim nods, and Jason -- catches himself trying to make eye contact. He stops. "I mean, I'm totally including the ones where you *used* to be able to do that with your leg."

"Mm. I was in Thailand. It was... another world," Bruce says, and the *words* are all about *connecting*, but the tone is pure 'don't talk to me.'

Fucking A. They really are supposed to be better than this --

"My parents went to Thailand once," Tim says, quiet and absolutely inviting, and Jason's *all* set to cheer her on until he thinks about it.

That had -- that had *cost* her, and the line on her forehead *could* be strain for the move Bruce has her doing, but Jason knows it isn't. And --

"Tim. How are you?"

Bruce knows, too.

Tim's laugh is brief and just as quiet. "I might have been making conversation."

Bruce pauses, stands down and turns to her. "You don't have to... you mustn't feel as though you need to sacrifice your feelings for --"

"Mine, Bruce?" Jason's voice sounds *pissed* to his own ears, and -- yeah. He uncrosses his arms and steps closer. "Or yours?"

Bruce doesn't wince or anything like that. It's just that the tension is radiating off him in *waves*, and it makes Jason --

It makes him want to *hit* something, and it makes him want to back the fuck off and let *Bruce* hit something, or maybe *fuck* something -- all of it's a little too *much*. "Bruce, come on. You've been a fucking *lack* for weeks, now --"

"Jason --"

"Bruce," Tim says, sharp and low. "Perhaps it's not my place, but Jason is right. He misses you. *I* miss you --"

"You don't --" And Bruce's hands *snap* into fists -- and relax again, painfully slowly.

Jason looks up, and Tim is watching those hands with a frown on her face. And then she looks at him, and the frown has a question for company. Jason shakes his head. He knows what the question *is*, he just has no idea how to answer it. Still -- "Bruce... you've never been like this, before. Not with me --"

"Perhaps I should've been --"

"Fucking *no*, B," and Jason moves onto the mats --

Bruce takes a step back, and that -- Jason freezes.

And Tim nods, slowly. "You were... showing me."

Jason watches Bruce turn to Tim, and he looks almost *wary* -- but he nods and visibly releases a good fraction of the tension he's holding on to, and then he flows smoothly into the position Tim is holding, and from there to the next one. Jason bites back a growl and pushes a hand back through his hair and -- watches.

He can watch, even if this isn't really teaching him anything more than "damn, Tim can *bend*."

And so can Bruce, when he puts his mind to it. And really, that *is* fascinating. If anything, Bruce is built the way Jason is, big through the *everything* and solid. He almost never shows *off* the flexibility he has on the streets, but it's there if he ever needs it. And that *is* a lesson, but it's not like Jason's muscles and tendons and shit ever seem to pay attention to those.

Maybe if *he'd* grown up in a circus or something.

It's quiet, all of it. Bruce leading by gestures or just by moving Tim bodily into the right positions, then starting over and running through it until Tim's *mind* knows the moves, even if her body isn't quite sure of them...

And Bruce steps back. He doesn't look at Jason very, very fucking loudly --

"Bruce and I will spar," Tim says, fake casually enough that she might be speaking to the *air* -- "After Bruce gets changed."

Jason *looks* at Bruce -- Bruce nods, even though he's completely failing to meet Jason's eyes -- there, and Bruce's eyes are heavy and bleak and so damned *apologetic*... "Bruce..."

"Yes," he says, and reaches out even though he's too far away to touch -- he stops and lets his hand fall to his side.

And then he walks away, toward the lockers.

All of a sudden, Jason can feel every mile of that run, and maybe all of the time Tim spent on the weights, too.

"Jay..."

"I... yeah. Do you think I should go after him?"

Tim shrugs, mid-kata. It looks uncomfortable and just as unsure as it should.

"Yeah," Jason says again. "At least he's sparring with you."

Tim nods and starts to flow, moving through it as if she *hadn't* just learned this a minute ago. This will *be* on the streets soon enough, and --

"Fuck it, I'm going."

"All right. But, Jay... he seems really --"

"Twitched?" Jason laughs humorlessly. "*That* I got."

Tim nods and keeps moving, spinning into a kick that makes Jason's groin hurt in useless sympathy.

When Jason gets to the lockers, Bruce is stripped down to nothing but boxer-briefs and a jock. There are no major injuries that Jason can see, and he's not moving like he'd cracked his ribs again. The tension, though...

Are they ever going to be able to rub each other down again, or will Tim have to do it for both of them? It's not like he'd *mind* Tim's hands, but... they should be better.

"You can't just keep ducking us, Bruce," he says, and there's a plea in his voice he hadn't meant to have there, but there's nothing he can do about it now.

And maybe nothing he can do about the way Bruce stiffens up even *more*.

"Jesus, I... we agreed, didn't we? That we were going to be okay?" Jason steps closer and deliberately rests a hand up on Bruce's shoulder. It's fucking *rock*, though, and Jason has to rub at it, a little, press and try to *ease* --

"Jason."

"Right *here*, B --"

"Did you. I thought the bike would suit you more than the old one," he says, and it's not like he's fishing or anything, but that has to be the clumsiest subject change Jason has ever *seen* from Bruce.

"The bike's fucking awesome. But it's not as good as having *you*. Seriously --"

"It has been wonderful to." And the sentence just kind of *stops* there -- Bruce is holding a plain t-shirt in his hands. In his *fists*, and it won't be long before it tears right down the middle.

Jason squeezes Bruce's shoulder harder, tries to turn the man so they can at least *look* at each other -- and then Bruce *does* turn, and Jason almost loses his balance. He hadn't realized he was pushing that *hard* --

"I've enjoyed being your friend, Jason," Bruce says, low and fucking *earnest*, and he *is* meeting Jason's eyes, but it feels almost fragile, like there are a million different things Jason can do to *lose* that little contact, so -- slowly.

He reaches up again -- both hands -- and puts them on Bruce's shoulders. "You can't keep ducking," he says, again, and watches the line of Bruce's mouth get harder, more *Bat* -- "No, not that, either. I don't give up on my friends and -- here's the important thing -- *neither do you*. Even when you *should*, so --"

"You know it's not that simple, Jay."

Jay. Just... for that he can try to be a little gentler, whether or not Bruce is taking the chance to fucking manipulate him. "Yeah, well... you want me. You want *us*, and that's fucking scary --"

"Let me go --"

"No. Just -- no. Look, maybe I shouldn't, and maybe it's stupid, but I trust you, and so does Tim, and -- you can't seriously think this will all just blow over if you're not seeing us every day."

Bruce's mouth twists slightly, and his eyes -- he looks more frustrated than anything else, right now, and Jason can *work* with that.

"Yeah, that -- I mean, I would go weeks without seeing Tim at all, and it's not like I got any less gone for her, any less twisted *up* --"

"Your relationship with Tim... you shouldn't compare it to this, Jason. It's an entirely different animal --"

"Because we're the same age? Because it's -- it's some kind of *normal*?" Jason laughs and shakes Bruce a little. The tiny amount that he actually *can*. "C'mon, B, you can't tell me -- I. Okay, it *is* more normal than how you feel about me, but it's not like I don't think your feelings are real. I mean -- that's the point, isn't it? They're *too* real."

Bruce shakes his head and lets the t-shirt fall between them. It's a cool brush against Jason's ankles, and Bruce --

Bruce's hand, on his face. *Cupping* his face, and his palm is dry and warm, and his fingers aren't nearly as rough as they should be. They're only just rough enough that Jason catches himself *looking* for the rub and scratch of them --

Bruce is leaning in. He's --

He's stroking Jason's cheek with his thumb, and his eyes are closed, and his breath smells like coffee, like Alfred's coffee, he's close enough that Jason can *taste* his breath, and his lips are parted --

His hand -- his fingers are in Jason's hair, and he's -- Bruce is doing this, really *doing* this, even though Tim is right out there, even though it's *wrong*, and Jason feels something *twist* inside him --

He pushes back, shocked that he can keep his balance, that he's not somehow *marked* by -- he'd felt the brush of Bruce's lip against his own, and that's not -- that's not *right*, and --

Bruce is still standing there, partially bent and staring at the floor -- are his eyes open again?

"Bruce --"

"Jay," Bruce says, standing up straight and looking at him, looking *in* him and maybe seeing... maybe seeing everything he was always afraid to and more than that besides, because Bruce nods and lets his hand drop to his side again. "You see."

"I don't -- *dammit*, Bruce, you -- you *have* control --"

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- drops to a crouch to pick up the shirt. He puts it on, and then pulls the shorts out of the locker and puts *those* on, and it's all about giving Jason time to realize his motherfucking *error*, but --

"Four *years*, B --"

"Yes, Jason. Four *years*," and he doesn't slam the locker or anything, but that potential is there, as well as the potential for --

Jason's cheek feels too warm, too *sensitive*, like maybe it's an illusion that Bruce's hand isn't still there. It's the same with that one spot on his lip, and -- fucking hell, Bruce had done that to prove a *point*, and most of him...

Most of him wants to let Bruce get away with it, because -- damn.

It's just that there's still the rest of him, and --

"Let me go, Jason. I'll always... you'll always have what you need --"

"I *had* what I needed, Bruce. And you --" Please, he wants to say. He *could* say, and maybe it would even work. It's just that it might *also* make this harder, make Bruce... he doesn't know -- no.

He doesn't *want* to know, but he does, and it takes everything *in* him not to reach up and touch his own mouth.

"Bruce..."

Bruce rests his hand against the locker and lets his head hang. His mouth is a hard line again, and every last fucking *bit* of the tension is back -- "Is there anything... you should tell me, if there's anything I've forgotten, Jason. Something for you, or Tim..."

"Sometimes... sometimes I'll need you to spar. With me. Because --"

"Yes," Bruce says, low and fucking *grim* --

Jason punches his thigh. "I'm not giving up."

And Bruce turns and looks at him, and there's anger there, and sadness, too, and -- so *much* hunger that Jason has to check himself to keep from taking another step back.

He knows Bruce saw it, anyway. Jason squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back --

Thinks about Bruce staring at the line of his throat, maybe the beat of his pulse -- fuck.

"I -- I'm not giving up," he says again, fucking *lamely*, and Bruce doesn't even nod when Jason opens his eyes again.

He just keeps staring.

"Fucking -- go. Spar with Tim. Teach her --" Since you won't teach me, anymore.

*That* gets a nod, and then Bruce is moving and moving past him without another word, a look, a -- a touch.

Jason gives up and rubs at his mouth, but it doesn't work. He can still *feel* that kiss that *wasn't*, and maybe he'll just *keep* feeling it every time he looks at Bruce. Or thinks about him. Maybe he *should've* punched him in that mouth, just to have something to share with him. Something that won't go away.

Jason -- doesn't punch the lockers, or the wall. Sparring has to help, even if it's not him. Maybe *because* it's not him.

Not that Tim is all that fucking *safe* for Bruce, but -- it has to be better. He walks out and moves toward the mats, and Bruce and Tim are already *in* it. She's using moves from the new kata, kicking almost vertically for Bruce's face as he dodges and moves, goes for catches she doesn't know how to evade, yet --

She's evading them, anyway, moving fast enough that Jason watches Bruce catch air twice, watches him *just* miss taking one in the jaw --

"Good," he says, and her balance is perfect as she uses foot and shin blocks to keep Bruce from getting too close, as she bends backwards to avoid a punch --

She does a back flip and Bruce catches air again instead of her ankles --

She tucks and rolls, spins out into a leg-sweep that Bruce practically *walks* over, except for how he's moving fast enough to strike down for her --

She rolls away and up to her feet, spins into a kick, another --

"Remember the kata," and Bruce grazes her ankle with his fingertips when she does just that. It makes her hesitate --

No, she was faking caution, and she fucking *runs* in to try for body hits, a nerve strike Jason doesn't know -- Bruce blocks it and goes for hits of his own, punishing her for moving in --

Block, block -- and a block that's going to make her forearm look like a Gotham sunset once the blood starts pooling there. She dances back on her toes -- drops to her heels and starts kicking fast and a little wild, a little sloppy in her form, but *fast* --

"C'mon, baby, you can *make* those --"

"I *know*," she says, and drops back onto her hands, kicks up hard with both feet --

Bruce's block had to fucking *jar* her legs, but she just tucks and rolls again --

Again and Jason's moving for them, following them a little, because the way Bruce is moving *is* something that can help him. Blocks like that -- his arms can take a *lot* of punishment, and that's exactly what Tim's dishing out. She's still barely using her upper body, but she really doesn't *have* to.

She's got more kicks than Jason has punches, and she's using every last one of them, bending and twisting and *stretching* herself into one after another as she starts to get a little wilder, a little rougher --

And Jason realizes that she was holding *back* a little. Not much, but -- still enough that *Bruce's* forearms are going to bruise now. She's putting all of herself into every kick now, making sharp little noises of effort the way she always does for Bruce, and he'd always meant to *ask* her why she did that when she was so silent for everything else, but...

He knows it's a gift and also the way she *connects*, that she's *telling* Bruce that she's here for this with everything she *is*, that she's *fighting* for this --

Catch and Bruce *hauls* her in even as she growls and drops to the ground to make things harder for him --

He *twists* her leg in a warning her knee has to be hearing loud and clear --

She jack-knifes *up*, twists herself and kicks for Bruce's arm with her other leg and barely manages to avoid getting that caught -- but Bruce's grip must've slackened because she's free again, rolling to avoid Bruce's brutal-looking strikes --

"Your knee won't always be able to take that kind of punishment --"

"Other punishments," she says, spinning up and into another kick, another, back into the kata -- "other punishments are worse --"

"Just the same," Bruce says, and keeps dodging, almost flowing around her, dark water and *power* --

Jason moves back out of the way -- the spar is heading back *to* him -- and catches himself moving like Bruce, body anticipating, a little, the way he'll work to avoid and to strike out -- there, that wobble in Tim's stance that's not a fake --

She manages to spin down to avoid another catch, but she doesn't have the right momentum for a roll.

She growls again, and Jason -- gets to see Bruce's eyes. There's a light in them, small but *present* as he moves in, deliberately slowing down --

And yeah, this time Tim's growl is even *lower*, because she can *see* him taking it easy on her, and she *hates* it. She tumbles --

She *fakes* a tumble and goes for a kick without much power, but a *lot* of wild *focus* to it. She grazes Bruce's hand with her heel --

"*Good*," Bruce says, and that light in his eyes gets brighter when she kicks again, again, holding him *back* --

And *then* she tumbles, and Bruce moves in --

Jason moves in at air, reaches --

She *had* to feel Bruce's fist moving past her head, and if it were some asshole on the street, Batgirl's hair would be in his fist, and the game would've gotten *really* fucking dangerous --

Tim *wrenches* herself away, rolls up onto her hands and springs back, up -- kicks before she lands, again once she *has* the ground, and she's so good, so wild *under* all that order and control and so fucking *vicious*. She's going for blood, now, and if it was Jason she would've gotten it already. She's growling and panting constantly now, and Bruce's eyes --

He looks this close to *laughing*, and yeah, it's right, it's *so* right, because Bruce has a mind *and* a body, and he knows how to live in the latter, too. Knows how to move and how to *live*.

Just -- thank fucking *God* for Tim, for her ability to make this so *fun* for Bruce and for the fact that she's *here*.

"C'mon, baby, c'mon," and he's practically muttering under his breath, but he knows Tim can hear him, maybe *feel* him, because she's pulling out all the stops, moving even faster even though he can feel *her* getting a little tired.

She moves in under a punch and strikes up for Bruce's jaw --

Jason winces -- "No --"

Bruce catches her wrist, and the sound Tim makes is high and *angry*, and she twists herself, pulls back, but there's no way she can avoid Bruce's toss. He makes it look as easy as *breathing*, and she lands on the mats hard, grunting out her air and trying to arch into a roll --

And Bruce fucking pounces, pinning her in a heartbeat -- "Do you yield?" And his voice is so calm, so fucking *measured* that she *has* to be able to hear him laughing with happiness --

Tim throws her head back and laughs, too, panting and gasping, mouth open and eyes closed -- naked.

She's naked, and Bruce is, too. Bruce is moving on her and focused as she twists, writhes, cries out --

Jason can *hear* them laughing, but it's something under the images in his mind, the images spooling through his vision and making him just -- just --

The way her head is tilted back, and the bare and somehow obscene arch of her throat. The way it's shining with sweat as Bruce keeps her pinned, keeps her from doing any more than just fighting for it, fighting for *more*.

And Bruce leans in with his mouth open, and it doesn't matter that Jason knows he's critiquing her performance, it --

Just the sight of that, and the way he knows Bruce's muscles are moving, flexing and tensing --

The way Bruce would have to *taste*, and Jason knows what that feels like, what that smells like. Tim --

Tim's so *small* under him, and she would -- she would maybe beg for this, maybe cry out over and over the way she does when Jason is inside her and she loves it, loves that -- please --

Jason hears himself moan and realizes that he's hard, achingly hard, desperately fucking *hard*, and there's nothing he can do about it, nothing he can do to stop seeing what he's seeing, what he wants --

*No* --

Jason spins and fucking *stalks* to the showers, doing his best to ignore his stupid and fucking *insane* dick --

Bruce --

Bruce and Tim, and he *wants* her, wants to touch her, kiss her, fuck her so hard --

Jesus, he doesn't even *know* that --

"Jason?"

Tim calling him, and she has to be wondering what the fuck is wrong with him, but he can't -- he *can't*. He throws up a hand and keeps walking, trying to chase the images out of his mind --

Bruce's mouth pressed to the bowl of her hip --

Bruce's hands *clutching* her hips as he --

Tim pushing at his chest, *clawing* at his chest as he *thrusts*, groans and whispers how beautiful she is --

Jason bites back another noise, and he doesn't *want* to know what it would be, he can't *take* that, and he's in the showers, alone, unseen. He strips down quickly, and maybe this is how Tim feels about her dick, maybe it's *just* like this when she's hard and wants to be anything but. Jason grabs himself with one hand and turns on the water with the other, fucking *praying* to the weird acoustics to keep his moan from reaching them, prays to every god he can think of to keep them right where they are and away from him.

Bruce's lips against his own -- *no*.

Bruce lifting Tim against his body, crushing her to him as he kisses her the way he wants to kiss *Jason* -- *no* --

Jason strokes himself fast and hard and holds on fucking *grimly* against the images, the ass fucking stupid *want*.

Tim on her knees with her mouth around Bruce, pulling him in by the hips as he strokes her hair, her cheek --

And Jason's scrubbing at his own cheek where Bruce had touched him, fucking held him, *caressed* --

Would he be gentle like that?

Would he be *able* to?

No, faster, *harder*, and don't think, don't fucking *think*, and a part of him actually *regrets* this morning in the bathroom, because now he has a little fucking *staying* power, and that's exactly what he *doesn't* need.

Just -- count the tiles, listen to the water --

Bruce in here with Tim, kneeling behind her and making her shout, making her knees buckle --

No, that's him, that's -- that's *him*, and he hasn't had sex with Tim down here, yet, and maybe he should. *Absolutely* he should. Maybe over the bike like she wants, something fast and dirty, something --

*Give* her this, all of it, let her deal with it, take him, use him --

Bend her over the new bike and fucking *christen* it, make her come all over the deep green finish as he fucks her, takes her, pulls out to slap her ass and then shove right back in again -- cameras.

Cameras *everywhere* down here, and even if Bruce wasn't there, he'd see, he'd *know*, and maybe he'd know everything working its way through Jason's brain, maybe he'd come right down and grab Jason's hips and make him take Tim harder, press that huge body against his own and --

And --

Jason tastes blood and realizes he's biting the inside of his lip *just* that hard, stares at the tile and pants --

The echoes fucking *beat* him --

He's too fucking hard, too fucking *hungry* for this --

"*Please* --" Too loud, he's too loud -- there, that stroke, that squeeze, and he doesn't have to think about anything but Tim's scent, the way it's just *there* on his bed, now, the way she's always with him, always here --

She loves *him*, and she wouldn't ever --

She *wouldn't* --

And he thinks about her teeth, her mean little mouth, pretty and wet, red and sharp --

He gives up on his cheek and grabs his sac again and *there*, he's still sensitive from this morning, from that incredible fucking blowjob, and every squeeze makes him wince and snarl, gets him closer to where he needs to *be*.

Tim --

"*Tim*," he says, and *welcomes* the echoes, lives in them until it feels like his whole body is slammed by them, until he's shuddering all over --

And he comes, sharp and fucking harsh, spurting on the tile and keeping his feet. His dick and sac start complaining about the treatment they're getting right away, and Jason groans quietly and lets go.

Breathes.

Sluices off and turns off the water.

Now he just has to go back out there with some kind of *explanation* -- fucking A.

If it was just Bruce -- and if it was just a little more than a *month* ago -- he could shrug it off with a rueful smile and get back to his training. Painful and inconvenient erections *happen*, and he is a teenaged boy.

Tim... Tim is going to want to know why he hadn't just teased and flirted until he could take her someplace private. He hasn't jerked off since that one time when she wanted him to, and had been perfectly happy to imagine a life without doing it except when she got a cold or something.

And Bruce, now... what the hell *is* he going to think? He has to know. They *both* have to know. And -- Christ.

He's getting cold. Jason walks out and grabs a towel, drying off just enough that his clothes won't stick when he puts them on again. When he looks up, Bruce is at the console and Tim's nowhere in sight -- there. Taking a run.

Well, at least he has some time to think about what he's going to say. He hits the weights.

*

That was... odd. One minute she was on her back, pinned without any hope of reprieve and laughing her head off because Bruce was acting almost *courtly*, and the next Jason was moaning and running off to... well.

Definitely 'well.'

And it's not that she doesn't understand -- irritatingly well -- inconvenient erections, but there was really nothing there for Jason to find... moving. Maybe if *he'd* been sparring with her...

Well, if he'd been sparring with her, chances are that they'd both need some time alone, really. With Bruce there... she has no idea. She can work it back a little -- *something* had clearly happened when Bruce and Jason were talking over by the lockers.

Bruce had been tense enough in the beginning of the spar that she had actually been getting close a few times with her kicks, and she knows it didn't have anything to do with *her*. For that matter, *Jason* had been obviously tense while he was watching them, and...

Really, it had to come up. 'It.' Bruce is in love with Jason, and it's clearly at least part of why Bruce has been so incredibly *absent*. She never would've guessed that she'd have this much *privacy* after moving into the manor, moving in with Bruce *Wayne*. It's one thing that Alfred has obviously decided to give them their space. It's something else entirely that she and Jason are all but living *alone*.

And Jason...

Jason hadn't said a word to her when she'd called to him, just thrown up a hand and kept going, like things were *that* urgent. What could have possibly...?

Tim shakes her head and loops back behind some of the trophies, thinking idly about taking more of her runs outside. If she was home --

She is home, and will be for the foreseeable future, and there's nothing that can change that. Sometimes she wonders about the afterlife and just...

Well, there clearly *is* one, or something of the kind. All sorts of people have been killed in the line of duty and then come back, in one way or another. Not *every* hero who's been killed, but still quite a few of them. Sometimes Dinah jokes about Heaven's revolving door...

Are her parents there? Do they wonder... are they upset with her? Do they ever find themselves thinking that Tim should get more sun? Less sort-of-gay sex?

Tim laughs to herself, and is glad no one is close enough to hear it. It's not a laugh that deserves to be shared.

What if something happened and *they* were brought back to life? Given new bodies to replace the poisoned ones, the rotting ones --

She'd tell them that she loved them, and apologize for every time she'd just said goodbye, instead. She'd hug them until she was sure she'd never forget their scents again, and she'd promise... what?

She doesn't think she'd ever taken them for granted, as opposed to using their habits and hobbies to make Batgirl's life easier. They were in love with each other more often than they weren't, they'd built a large amount of wealth between them, and they'd used it the way they'd seen fit. She's never resented them for it, and they'd respected her enough to let her go her own way.

Other parents would've insisted on knowing what she did with her time, where she went and who her friends were. As far as Tim's parents knew, there was no Barbara Gordon in Tim's life, and Tim herself -- himself -- was just a healthy and active teenager who liked spending her time wandering around Gotham with a camera.

Her mother had even promised to introduce Tim to some of her artist friends if Tim just kept *up* with the photography and... and.

Of course, by the time her mother had had the time to look over Tim's work, it had all been subterfuge, random photos taken at random times to explain away the hours spent at the Clocktower, or at Selina's dojo/gymnasium.

Of course... no.

The truth is, Tim doesn't know *what* she'd do if she suddenly had parents again, other than feel horribly guilty about all the ways in which Barbara is so important to her, the way that Bruce has become so necessary...

If she'd known she had those kinds of *weaknesses*, that kind of *need*, she would've asked to travel *with* her parents, asked them to stay home one trip out of three. They could've eaten dinner together, or talked about Tim's schooling, or just... spent time being a family.

The *truth* is, the family Tim has now is the same one -- *one* -- she'd had when her parents were alive, and there's nothing she can do about that, either, except maybe to watch herself, keep herself from getting too -- needy.

It's one thing to be that way with Jason, who seems to *hurt* when Tim *doesn't* lean on him for as much as humanly possible. Jason isn't *like* other people, and he never has been. One day, presumably, he'll feel comfortable enough with her that he won't need proof of how much she needs him, and she'll be able to... back off, a little.

With Barbara and Bruce... well, she's been going over to the Clocktower a *lot*, and while Barbara has always been welcoming, has always left a space open for Tim above and beyond the necessary space for Batgirl... well, *shouldn't* she go back to giving Barbara her space?

Barbara likes having people in her life, yes, but she also likes having them at controllable distances. She'd never asked to have *Tim* in her life, and while Tim will always be grateful for all the support she's given, it's time to let Barbara relax and have her home again. Batgirl will always have a base there, but *Tim* doesn't need to encroach any more than she already has. And Bruce --

Well, Bruce *needs* his space now, and while Tim will do everything in her power to make things easier for him and Jason, she can damned well do it without trying to make Bruce into another...

Bruce is her *guardian*, and that's all he is, and all he *wants* --

("He did *say* he was attracted to you.")

And that -- that's still not --

That's not what she was *looking* for from Bruce. That's something else entirely, and if she keeps things relatively formal, maybe that will even help --

No, she can't really do formal. Not and keep working to give Bruce *back* to Jason. Or... maybe formal *would* work better? Talk to him reasonably, quietly, not keep trying to *throw* herself at him with talk of missing him --

They'd had a good few days, and that's really all. He'd seen that she was hurting, that she was a *mess*, and because he's just that good a man, he'd done his best to make things easier for her, even after bringing her here in the first place. He's not her friend.

Tim nods to herself and focuses on her run.

When she's done, she sees Jason working his legs on the weight machine, and Bruce still at the console.

It's possible *neither* of them want to talk to her right now, but... but. She walks up to Jason and rests a hand on his thigh, feels the muscle working, flexing --

Just being able to *do* this pretty much whenever she wants -- focus.

Jason's smiling at her ruefully, hair falling over his forehead -- *focus*.

"Is everything... all right?"

Jason sighs and covers her hand with his own, squeezing a little. "Yeah, uh... yeah. Ask me later? Please?"

Meaning everything *isn't* all right, but not in a way that she can help, right now. She raises her eyebrow and nods.

Jason nods back. "So... what's next for you after that spar? More weight training? Katas?"

"Maybe katas later. I think I'm going to spend some time on the beam, after I... well." She turns her head slightly...

"Bruce. Yeah. I... good luck? I told him I wasn't going to give up on him, and he kind of... tried to kiss me."

That -- her first reaction is open shock, internal *cracking*, because that goes against everything she'd *thought*, and --

"Except what I think he was really doing was trying to chase me away for *good*. Fucking hell."

Her second reaction -- it cuts, deep, and she doesn't really have a name for the feeling, doesn't really... she's blushing, and she can *feel* that, but she can also feel Bruce, see him leaning in, *touching* Jason, taking --

Taking what's hers? Is that it?

Maybe -- maybe part of it, and --

"Hey, are *you* okay?"

"I. I feel I should be asking you that question. Again."

Another sigh. "Yeah, well, he didn't really do anything, and he backed off as soon as I pushed --"

"He moved in... slowly?"

Jason searches her for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Slowly. Letting me stop it *anytime* I wanted, which is what makes me think that he didn't really *want* to kiss me right then, as opposed to... well."

Well, indeed. "I think... I don't know what I think. Just -- Jason, are you sure you *want* to keep pushing?"

"I want my *friend* back, Tim. You -- you know that," he says, and he's searching her again, looking almost hurt --

Like she had hurt him. Hell -- she squeezes his thigh. "I'm sorry, you're right, of course --"

"What... what made you change your mind? Is it that he tried to kiss me? That's fucking with you?"

*Yes* -- "I'm. Surprised it isn't... fucking with you."

Jason's shrug is a little... weak. If it's meant to show her that he's completely *okay* with it, it's not working at all.

"Jason --"

"No, I know -- shit. It's just -- it's the way he did it. He didn't grab me, and he didn't pin me against a wall or anything, when he could've done that *easily*."

The feel of being thrown, *lifted* and thrown, and she was full of *rage* at being caught so easily, at making such a stupid *mistake*, but she was also still *high* on it, the spar, the adrenaline... She'd run herself *out* of an erection, but -- Tim swallows and nods. "I think I might be... jealous."

Jason winces. "Yeah, well... maybe I am, too."

Tim frowns. "Jason, I haven't -- *Bruce* hasn't --"

He lifts the hand not covering her own and makes a stand down gesture. "I know. But -- you were so good in that spar, you *both* were so fucking good and I just got a little -- later. I'll tell you later."

A little *what*? Turned on by her and *Bruce*? *Really*? "Jay --"

"Yeah, I know. Later, I *promise*."

Tim curls her fingers in and scratches, just a little --

"I know, baby, I -- shit. *Do* you want to talk to Bruce right now? Or do you just want to train?"

And she was being that obvious, and she'd *told* him besides. But. "It... it will eat at me if I don't try talking to him. Even though he's not my friend." And Jason winces again, and Tim really wants to bite back what she'd just said, but --

"Yeah... I. Yeah."

It's too late. "Jason --"

"He's supposed to be your friend," he says, and his voice is tired and low. *Hurt*. "He's supposed to be -- fuck, I don't even know, Tim. I just... I need this to work, somehow, or else none of it's any good. I mean, we're just fine on the street, and maybe we always will be, maybe we have just that much experience *being* fine that it's all fucking *reflexive*, but..." He lifts his hand off hers and makes a pushing gesture.

"Are you sure I should be letting you brood?"

"Is that what I'm doing? Heh," and Jason shoves a hand back through his hair. "I promise I won't keep it up?"

She doesn't bother to say anything. Her expression *has* to be saying it all --

"Please, Tim. I can't -- I know I shouldn't be asking you for *any* of this, but. I don't know what to do."

Oh -- that. Jason. Jason *needs* -- Tim nods and squeezes his thigh again. No matter what, she has to keep trying. And has to let him have his space now, too. She lets go and steps back --

"Thank you," Jason says, and it's full of just -- everything.

It hits her the way it always does. He's *told* her that he loves her -- multiple *times* -- but it never means as much as it does in moments like these, when she can't help but *feel* it.

Feel him. Tim smiles ruefully and doesn't cover her heart with her hand. It won't help to make it stop beating so fast and it would be incredibly overdramatic, besides. She curls the hand she'd had on his thigh into a loose fist, instead, and lets herself imagine the warmth she feels is his own.

Her own, too.

She nods again and turns for the console.

If anything, knowing what she knows now, she would've expected Bruce to disappear again, leaving them to train and talk -- and possibly decide, once and for all, to give up on him entirely --

No, she doesn't know him, and she can't keep acting like she does. It would be so *easy* to apply some of her own... her *issues* to Bruce, considering what she *does* know, but she has proof now that it wouldn't work. If *she* were in Bruce's position, she never would've tried kissing Jason. Knowing how he felt about intergenerational relationships, and about her in particular --

About *Bruce* in particular.

She just -- wouldn't, and she doesn't have the foggiest clue why *he* would --

Unless, of course, he was trying to -- oh.

She rests her hand on the back of Bruce's chair before she can think better of it, and watches him typing for a long moment. He doesn't stop, or even pause, and when she looks at the main monitor --

It's a report on some of the gang activity currently happening in -- her territory. She reads more closely --

"It's filed under Gang Activity: General," he says, quietly. "Your password is 'raptor.'"

Jason's is 'hawk,' but -- "You... want me to use your computers?"

"They're yours now, as well, Tim. You'll need them for your reports, and I will also, from time to time, leave specific information and tasks for you."

Tim blinks and thinks about that -- it's huge and wonderful and speaks of *trust*, but also of 'goodbye.' "Noted, but... Bruce, I'd like to talk to you."

"You should let me work now," he says, and it's not an order. It's... gentle, a request... more than that and less, too, somehow.

Tim takes a deep breath and stands up straight, curling her fingers in against the chair and holding on *tightly*. "Perhaps you should spend more time here, so that the work will be more easily completed in a timely fashion."

That makes him pause, but only for a moment. He doesn't make a sound.

All right. "When you moved to kiss Jason, were you... proving a point?"

This time, he stops altogether. "Tim. I'm -- I'm sorry. I never should have --"

"No, you shouldn't have. But answer my question. Please," and she moves to stand beside the chair, to look at him -- no, closer. She sits on the console and stares at him until he looks up and meets her eyes.

*His* eyes... they can't be like this all the time. She's seen them focused on the work, focused in a different way while training her, open and sympathetic while he tried to comfort her -- *this* is something else. It's apology and plea at once, and something like the open, hungry thing that's been living inside her for as long as she can remember. He is... a very attractive man.

She takes another breath and grips the edge of the console to keep from reaching out. Distance. Formality. *Control*. "Answer me."

"I have been in love with him since before you went to Barbara. Long before."

And now you're staking a claim? No, she won't be distracted. She nods -- "Were you proving a *point*, Bruce."

He closes his eyes and squeezes the edge of the console himself. "Yes. But that was not the only thing."

She waits until he opens his eyes and looks at her before nodding again. "That was Jason's take on the matter, but -- I had to be sure."

"I would never try to take him away from you, even if such a thing were possible."

Batman and Robin, the only truly perfect thing Gotham has ever had to offer. Just as Batgirl was the only truly beautiful thing, and -- and. What would this be like if Jason had a few less horrible experiences on the street? He'd still be who he was, but maybe a little less *adamant* about Bruce, and then...

And then, maybe, she'd have to fight for him. Batgirl *could*, even if she was maybe never supposed to *have* to fight to have Robin for herself, but *Tim*... Tim maybe wouldn't fight it, at all. He's Batman, and he's *Bruce*, and -- he had nearly kissed Jason.

And Jason had watched her spar with him and gotten so aroused he'd had to *leave* --

And Bruce is watching her.

"Good of you to... say that," she says, and knows her voice isn't saying anything of the kind, knows that she's being *obvious* again, and --

"Tim," Bruce says, and rests his hand on her own. Offering comfort again, easily and -- he's either being entirely honest, or he's the best liar she's ever seen. Better than *Barbara*, and that's asking a *lot* --

Tim shakes her head. "Bruce, I... the situation is untenable."

"I know. That's why I *must* pull back, Tim. Even from you."

*Even* from her? What -- he's attracted. He's attracted, and he's touching her, and she's -- blushing. Hard.

And Bruce moves his hand from hers without a word, and with a great deal of -- that would be self-loathing on his face, and she knows --

"I know that look from the inside, Bruce. You don't have to... maybe it's just that I was never abused, or maybe it's that I honestly think the rules are different for people like you, but --"

"The rules," he says, hard and *firm*, "are the same." And he's not looking at her again, so...

So. She covers his hand with her own, feels it twitch and squeezes.

"Tim. You're too -- you offer too much, without knowing the consequences."

"And yet I have a fair grasp of the *risks*, Bruce, and sometimes that's enough," she says, and deliberately shifts closer. He has to know that he's in *control*, that touch and talk are *available* to him --

And Bruce looks at her, looks her up and down, *dares* her to stay where she is -- no. He's demanding that she *think* about where she is in relation to *Bruce*, who is attracted to her, and who is a large, intimidating man. As manipulation goes, it's quietly elegant.

But she doesn't feel like being manipulated. She raises an eyebrow.

Bruce smiles, a narrowing of the eyes, a certain *positive* tightness to the skin around his mouth.

Tim smiles back --

"When you offer this to Jason, he all but falls at your feet."

This? She's not posing in any way that could be called provocative, and -- really. She's blushing again --

"Or perhaps it is that which makes him need to be so close to you, need to have you always within some measure of *reach* --"

"Bruce --"

"I am not jealous of you, Tim, but I am jealous of your love."

"You are... *actively* trying to make me uncomfortable, and it's not going to work --"

"No...? Should I speak, instead, of the thoughts I've had about your touch? The way you move for me when we spar, the sounds you make. The abandon with which you give yourself to the fight, and the ruthless control you maintain even so," and his voice is low and even, *sure* as he says --

All of those things. Tim swallows. "I'm not -- flirting. Not -- I mean I wasn't --"

"It is, perhaps, the prerogative of Batgirl to believe she is only flirting when she intends -- with dedication and forethought -- to do so."

And *that* -- she doesn't bother to keep back the growl. "You'll have to work harder to convince me that you subscribe to anything resembling the *concept* of 'asking for it.'"

Bruce raises his own eyebrow, and the smile on his face actually curves his mouth, this time. He looks precisely as much older than she is as he is, and he looks -- dark. Menacing.

"You also won't convince me that *Batman* has that view, Bruce."

He raises both eyebrows and leans back, slightly.

Tim nods to herself. Point scored. "Are you done trying to scare me away, Bruce?"

He turns away, but he doesn't move his hand from under her own, and that deserves... something.

"It isn't as though I'm in any way *calm* about the fact that you apparently want to have sex with me, or about the fact that you're in love with my -- with my boyfriend --"

"You... boyfriend, Tim?" And this time when he looks at her, there's nothing dark about the amusement, at all. Honest again, *open* again --

"'Lover' makes it sound like a bad romance novel."

"Hm. And are you *very* familiar with those?"

Tim smirks. "Two of my nannies were addicted to the genre, and there were no other books in the house which seemed remotely interesting. My mother wasn't much of a reader, and my father favored economics texts and biographies of the 'captains of industry.'"

Bruce hums and nods, filing that away and probably any number of other things she isn't consciously aware of.

"There's so much you could teach me, Bruce. Methods of detection, modes of observation, styles of control --"

"You have a teacher," he says, and *then* moves his hand, but he doesn't fight when Tim reaches out and pulls it back toward her.

"I want you, as well," she says, keeping *her* voice even -- "If nothing else, it's the most rational course."

"Only if one disregards certain facts of which we will not speak."

You *started* it -- no, she's not going to say that, even though he is smiling rather wryly at their hands. "I'm keeping those facts in evidence, Bruce. Even though sometimes I find them... difficult to understand."

Bruce narrows his eyes and looks almost angry -- "Don't do that. Don't denigrate yourself. Neither Barbara nor Jason allow it and I won't, either."

That -- a seize, inside. But. "There's a difference between Batgirl's innate attractiveness and my own --"

"Yes, there is," Bruce says, and this time he *is* daring her, if only to question that flat *solidity* of that statement, and -- she's narrowing her own eyes.

She stops, and breathes. "Fine. I won't... question your taste."

"You'd be questioning Jason's own."

Jason, between *them*, now, and Tim gives herself a moment to consider it, to detangle the threads until she has something like a clear view of the whole potential tapestry. Hmm. "You're about to use Jason -- and my feelings about him -- to try to place an entirely different sort of wall between us."

"I might have been merely stating a fact."

Tim tilts her head to the side. "You'd do anything to convince us that it would be better for you to be apart from us. *Nearly* anything, I suppose... or were you planning to actually assault Jason the next time he comes too close to you?"

A grimace for that, and Bruce turns away again. Tim shifts her grip on Bruce's hand to one that should be actively painful -- "You *don't* need to do that to insure that I'm paying attention, Tim."

"No? Neither of us have tried the physical pain method with any great degree of commitment, yet. How can we know it wouldn't work?" And she'd said that deliberately lightly, expecting a verbal parry in kind, but --

Silence, and he's still looking away. Another moment to think, then, and perhaps to put herself in Bruce's position, to attempt to see the world as he does, if only for a moment. Long enough to determine what sort of attack would work best the *next* time -- oh.

"You want to be hurt, for this. You believe you deserve to *suffer* for your feelings, and just keeping yourself from the boy you've been in love with for longer than I've been a useful member of society just *isn't* enough. Is it?"

More silence, but she still has his hand, and his jaw is tensing up as she watches. Tim deliberately rests Bruce's hand on her knee, and curls the fingers around it when he merely lets it sit there. After a moment, he shudders, once, and -- strokes the inside of her knee with his middle finger. Just a brush, brief and light. It could've been a twitch, or just Bruce being uncomfortable with the positioning --

It wasn't. "Bruce."

Bruce sighs and turns his hand until his thumb is brushing the outside of Tim's knee and his fingers are pressing against Tim's thigh. He turns to look at her, the anger and hunger back in his eyes, and *then* he squeezes -- "Do you believe, yet?"

"I. Bruce --"

"The *truth* is that you consider yourself to be, at best, average in appearance. You want to be a woman, and you think of yourself that way more often than not, but you believe deep down that you're simply a small and inadequately made boy. Hardly hideous, but nothing *special*, either. Deep down, you have no real idea why Jason loves and desires you as much as he does, and you're convinced that, one day, he'll wake up and realize he could have had someone *truly* worthwhile.

"Batgirl is the armor between your day to day functionality and this *pit* of self-disgust, but there's only so far she can take you, only so much she can do to make you look better to yourself. But you're capable of love, of admiration and affection. You dislike hurting others -- unless you feel they deserve it. Your rules for such things are a chiaroscuro of greys, both because of the people who trained you and because you weren't raised by your parents as much as you were *housed* by them --"

His hand isn't on her knee, anymore, and she isn't sure when she'd made the decision to push it away. If it *was* a decision, and she really isn't sure what's on her face, right now, but it makes Bruce nod in *satisfaction*.

And start to turn away, again. Tim *slams* her hand down on Bruce's own, crushing it against the console as much as she can --

"Tim."

"You son of a bitch. I --" Tim laughs, too loud, letting go of Bruce's hand and moving her own into a strike position that would break one or two small, fragile little *bones* -- she curls her hand into a fist and *looks* at Bruce. "All right, you've made your point. I want to be seen -- known -- *exactly* as little as you do. Except, of course, for Jason. Jason changes *all* the rules, doesn't he? You want him to understand you -- don't worry, he actually *told* me that. I'm not being intuitive or anything of the kind. You want him to *get* you, and still love you -- or..." Tim laughs again and leans in close enough to feel Bruce's breath against her face --

"Or, Tim...?"

"You *thought* that was all you wanted. Only when you *got* it, you discovered that it wasn't enough. You're *pissed* at yourself for being so damned *naive*, for making such a *fundamental* mistake about yourself. You thought you knew yourself, the *depths* to which you could go, and you were wrong. And now it's time to make anyone who knows you even a little bit better share a little bit of that pain. Right?"

Bruce raises an e