how could I resist?? Beginning #2, mayhaps?birdversusFebruary 4 2013, 23:22:43 UTC
The second after it happens, Tim knows, somehow inside, deep down, that it's a mistake. A big mistake. Something he can't take back no matter how he'll want to, later. Right now, though, he's incapacitated, drunk off the high of the escape, how close they cut it, just how many bullets they dodged (together), and how, upon landing, Jason wound up on top of him, half-straddling and half-crushing him.
So, in the aftermath, how could Tim resist? The hesitation in Jason was palpable, and Tim fed off it, and even at his age now, his brain was still developing, still trying to make sense of sexuality and impulse control, and he'd just thought I want this so bad and had taken it.
A kiss. An awkward, hurried, chapped-lip kiss. In the middle of a pile of newspapers in an alley, where they'd landed after leaping over the brick divider.
After the kiss to his neck, Tim elbowed his way out of Jason's hold, trying his best not to smile but failing. Miserably. His face was still burning, and as he nodded and turned away, he felt his cheeks with his glove to cool them off. Pressing the comm once he was done.
"I need a favor, Alfie," he said. "I'm gonna turn off my GPS and the comm link." There was a pause, in which it looked like Tim was trying to speak but couldn't. His face just got redder. "Umpleasejustcoverforme--okaythanksbye!"
And with that, he turned the comm off and disable the GPS tracker. Knowing Bruce, Tim was sure if it came down to it, there was probably a secondary tracer on him. But for now, that was as good as he could muster.
"Called you on it, huh?" Jason knew that Bruce had to have some other forms of tracking his Robin, but he didn't know them. His costume had been completely different from the one Tim wore. Bruce could have placed monitors all through the suit, and Tim probably didn't even know it. It'd be creepy, but seeing as Jason had died in the suit, not unreasonable.
"No matter. If the big man tracks you, he'll get one hell of a show." He grinned and turned to look up at the buildings surrounding them. There was a fire escape that he easily jumped up onto. "Well? Keep up will you."
"Pft, you keep up," Tim said, casting his grapple up to the roof and zipping right on past Jason with a wide, dorky smile. He was kidding, of course. He had no idea where Jason was currently living, so he'd have to follow.
"Cheater." He laughed as he made his way to the roof. Smirking at Tim as he moved by him, running a hand along his back. He licked his lips as he jumped easily to the next roof and continued to run. He had a safe house a block and a half away, and it'd have to do. His apartment was nearly half way across the city, so they had no choice. Unless he went to get his car. Which he could do, but he didn't want to waste anymore time. He wanted Tim, and he wanted to have him now.
Another rush flooded through Tim as they raced along the rooftops, jumping from one building to the next. In tandem. Side-by-side. This sort of thing never could have happened without Jason's death. Tim never would have been Robin without that. And it was times like these he thought maybe, in some sick way, dying had been good for Jason. Maybe just in this small way.
While ducking down the last fire escape before his apartment building, Jason let his mind wander back to the time he wore the costume. About jumping from rooftops without a grapple, just to show he could. About flipping around Batman laughing and grinning up at the older man. He remembered only a handful of time, barely that even, running like this with Dick by his side. He bet Tim had more time with Dick and Bruce like that. But he couldn't dwell on those thoughts. It didn't matter. It was in the past, and Jason had been a different Robin
( ... )
Okay, so Tim had assumed Jason wasn't going to be living in the lap of luxury, exactly, but this place kind of took the cake for messy. And not just any kind of mess but guns. Weaponry. Scattered all over the place like Jason was waiting for an army to arrive.
Tim couldn't help staring. He hadn't anticipated this, and he probably should have. He'd promised he'd be off Bruce's radar, but how could he turn his back on Bruce's teaching, when this was the kind of place Batman and Robin continually took down together? It was the kind of thing Bruce would want to know about, and Tim couldn't say a word, because it was Jason's place.
And then he'd have to explain why he was there in the first place.
Jason moved to head down the stairs into the main room, going to toss some things into boxes to look like it was clean, when he noticed Tim. He frowned a moment and then looked around the room, sighing he shoved his hands into his pockets. He was an idiot to think that Tim actually wanted something to do with him. He was hot, he knew it. He also knew Tim didn't have much in physical contact. So Jason kissing him back, had probably shorted out Tim's actual brain. And now, it was back online.
"You know your way out." He moved down the stairs, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He couldn't help it though. He'd got his hopes up that finally he'd get something good out of this life. But no. He wasn't allowed good things.
As he passed by one of the tables, he swiped one of the guns off of it. Missing pieces and unloaded. He flopped himself down into the only chair in the room still whole, and wheeled it away from Tim. His back to the younger teen, he moved to the burnt out computer and started to search for pieces for the gun.
Oh, maaaan. Now he'd really done it. Blown whatever chance he had with Jason, just because he wore his emotions on his sleeve. He couldn't help the shock. It wasn't like he expected to walk in and see boxes of weapons littering the place where he was, uh, kind of hoping to lose his virginity. Not at all like he'd imagined. Or, well, maybe it was, in some sick way. Jason had always been dangerous. Tim knew that. What did he expect, some posh loft apartment overlooking Gotham? That wasn't Jason's style.
Slowly, Tim continued to move down the stairs, his boots making soft noises against the concrete, his eyes taking in the state of the room and then focusing on Jason's back. The way his spine curved. The tone of his voice was enough to tell Tim he was angry, but the tenseness in his shoulders said he was hurt too.
"Um, so, why do you have all this stuff?" he asked, clearing his throat as he stepped further in. Clearly, he wasn't high tailing it out of there. Not yet anyway.
"It's stuff from when I went after Black Mask." He shook his head. He didn't know why Tim was sticking around, unless it was to get more intel for Bruce to use again him later. "Half of it doesn't even work, or there are parts missing because I needed them." He motioned to the computer, which choose that moment to spark dangerously. "When I'd been found out, I took my anger out on this before ditching th place. Haven't used it in a while, hence why all the garbage is here."
None of the things in the lower level worked, but Jason knew he did have things that did work. Like the rocket launcher that was under the bed up in the loft. If Tim was gonna stick around, he'd have too keep him from looking there, but at this point he was sure Tim was just looking for an out.
"You got your info now? Go run along back to the family. But to forewarn you, this place will blow if you try to enter it without the code." He turned his head back around to glare at Tim. "And don't get your hopes up, I won't be here."
Tim's face pulls, his nose scrunching and his brow knitting. "I'm going to run along back to the family," he snaps. "I didn't come here to, like, gather intel or something." Because that's sure as heck what Jason is making it sound like. There's absolutely no way he wants to tell Bruce about this place. Number one, because Bruce will want to confiscate the weapons, which means this will become a target, and number two, because he'll have to explain how he found it and why he was there in the first place. Not a conversation Tim wants to have, and more importantly, he doesn't want Jason on Bruce's shit list again.
Folding his arms, Tim glances around one last time, and then sinks atop the nearest crate, his legs dangling off the floor slightly.
"Pays to be paranoid, Tim. After the shit I've been through." He spun around in his chair to look at the teen. He hadn't meant to anger him, but he'd been hurt by Tim's reaction to the place. "I've pissed off lots of people since I came back. Lots of them are crazy. Most of them know where I camp out. Some, a few some, know who I am." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I didn't screw up, if that's what you're thinking next. But it's hard not to put the pieces together when I got the Bat making me a personal project."
He wanted to just get away from this topic so he stood up from his chair and moved over to Tim, placing his hands on the teen's legs, and running them upwards. He licked his lips and leaned forward so their mouths were only inches apart.
Tim has plenty of time to stop Jason. He can see him coming, has the full view of Jason's movements towards him, and there are about ten to fifteen seconds where it's just silent as he moves, and all Tim does is sit there, watching. Waiting. Not moving a damn muscle. And who even knows why. He should run. He should go back home. He should tell Bruce. He shouldn't want this. With Jason.
But the second Jason's hands are on his legs, the minute the scent of Jason wafts forward (cigarettes, gunpowder, leather), the instant Jason's mouth hovers near his, Tim loses all sense of reason. He knows, logically, what he should do. But logic has no place here, not with arousal creeping into his body like a flood of fire, heating up his core temperature, flushing his skin.
"Don't," he says, eyes heavy. But that isn't the full sentence, which he finishes after a swallow, his lips brushing Jason's: "Don't make me say it."
"I need to hear you say it." Jason never thought that he had low self-esteem, but this whole experience had him questioning it. He wanted Tim. He hadn't realized how much until he'd had him in his place. He hurt when he thought Tim was gonna split on him, and now that he wasn't running away, he needed to know.
So, in the aftermath, how could Tim resist? The hesitation in Jason was palpable, and Tim fed off it, and even at his age now, his brain was still developing, still trying to make sense of sexuality and impulse control, and he'd just thought I want this so bad and had taken it.
A kiss. An awkward, hurried, chapped-lip kiss. In the middle of a pile of newspapers in an alley, where they'd landed after leaping over the brick divider.
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"I need a favor, Alfie," he said. "I'm gonna turn off my GPS and the comm link." There was a pause, in which it looked like Tim was trying to speak but couldn't. His face just got redder. "Umpleasejustcoverforme--okaythanksbye!"
And with that, he turned the comm off and disable the GPS tracker. Knowing Bruce, Tim was sure if it came down to it, there was probably a secondary tracer on him. But for now, that was as good as he could muster.
"I'll, uh, follow you," he said to Jason.
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"Called you on it, huh?" Jason knew that Bruce had to have some other forms of tracking his Robin, but he didn't know them. His costume had been completely different from the one Tim wore. Bruce could have placed monitors all through the suit, and Tim probably didn't even know it. It'd be creepy, but seeing as Jason had died in the suit, not unreasonable.
"No matter. If the big man tracks you, he'll get one hell of a show." He grinned and turned to look up at the buildings surrounding them. There was a fire escape that he easily jumped up onto. "Well? Keep up will you."
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Tim couldn't help staring. He hadn't anticipated this, and he probably should have. He'd promised he'd be off Bruce's radar, but how could he turn his back on Bruce's teaching, when this was the kind of place Batman and Robin continually took down together? It was the kind of thing Bruce would want to know about, and Tim couldn't say a word, because it was Jason's place.
And then he'd have to explain why he was there in the first place.
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"You know your way out." He moved down the stairs, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He couldn't help it though. He'd got his hopes up that finally he'd get something good out of this life. But no. He wasn't allowed good things.
As he passed by one of the tables, he swiped one of the guns off of it. Missing pieces and unloaded. He flopped himself down into the only chair in the room still whole, and wheeled it away from Tim. His back to the younger teen, he moved to the burnt out computer and started to search for pieces for the gun.
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Slowly, Tim continued to move down the stairs, his boots making soft noises against the concrete, his eyes taking in the state of the room and then focusing on Jason's back. The way his spine curved. The tone of his voice was enough to tell Tim he was angry, but the tenseness in his shoulders said he was hurt too.
"Um, so, why do you have all this stuff?" he asked, clearing his throat as he stepped further in. Clearly, he wasn't high tailing it out of there. Not yet anyway.
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None of the things in the lower level worked, but Jason knew he did have things that did work. Like the rocket launcher that was under the bed up in the loft. If Tim was gonna stick around, he'd have too keep him from looking there, but at this point he was sure Tim was just looking for an out.
"You got your info now? Go run along back to the family. But to forewarn you, this place will blow if you try to enter it without the code." He turned his head back around to glare at Tim. "And don't get your hopes up, I won't be here."
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Folding his arms, Tim glances around one last time, and then sinks atop the nearest crate, his legs dangling off the floor slightly.
"You sure are paranoid, Jason."
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He wanted to just get away from this topic so he stood up from his chair and moved over to Tim, placing his hands on the teen's legs, and running them upwards. He licked his lips and leaned forward so their mouths were only inches apart.
"Why are you still here Tim?"
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But the second Jason's hands are on his legs, the minute the scent of Jason wafts forward (cigarettes, gunpowder, leather), the instant Jason's mouth hovers near his, Tim loses all sense of reason. He knows, logically, what he should do. But logic has no place here, not with arousal creeping into his body like a flood of fire, heating up his core temperature, flushing his skin.
"Don't," he says, eyes heavy. But that isn't the full sentence, which he finishes after a swallow, his lips brushing Jason's: "Don't make me say it."
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