Dick asking Jason if he can hear him. Jason shyly sitting down on his couch because he is hard just from knowing Dick wants him. 10 minute later Dick have a video of Jason jerking off, moaning and whimpering for his big brother.

Except instead of laughing Dick is staring right back into his soul, looking everything but sane.

Tbh, I never thought jaytim would have the honor.

Anyway, hooray for jaytimweek.

My prompts: Innocence, tattoos.

I hope you enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's a child in jasons shop.

Ok, perhaps child is an exaggeration, but the tiny teen standing at his front desk is definitely not older than 16.

As jason prepares himself to turn down this latest victim of middleschool foolishness, the teenager turns bright, electric blue eyes to gaze up at him, and his breath catches as he recognises the face attached.

"Hi..." says the very legal timothy drake, Bruce Wayne's nextdoor neighbour and Jason Todd's ex-stalker.

Not that he knows that jason knows about said ex-stalking.

Bruce promised he let the kid down gently, as well as only telling jason about it about two years after the kid stopped.

"Hey..." jason replies back woodenly, probably with the dumbest expression on his face, because he cannot believe that the same awkward fourteen year old that Bruce allowed jason to see exactly two photos of, grew up so well.

Still very tiny for his age though, jason thinks; his eyes now moving to take in the rest of the younger male. The bit of Tim's wrists that jason can see look a little too thin, in his opinion.

And now all jason can think of is this young; clearly malnourished, teen? All alone and even tinier chasing after him and the big bat through the cold dark streets of gotham.

Great. Cool, very cool, so cool.

Why the hell did Bruce let this kid stay with his parents- no, wait, yikes, jason cringes internally; remembering the obituaries of Jack and Janet drake that hit the papers around the same time Bruce told him about the whole stalking thing.

Well, okay, it's been a few years. So, the kid's got to be what? eighteen? nineteen? Probably just reached college or university, and with the average diet of uni students being about six redbulls and half a packet of ramen... Jason tells himself that that's the best option and buries the thought for later.

Aaand jason has just realised they've been staring at each other this whole time, saying nothing.

He clears his throat, a hand going up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"How can I help you kid, are you here for a piercing?" Jason asks, noting the glint of two gold hoops on his left helix.

Turning on business mode and pretending nothing was wrong was the tried and true todd formula.

Tim shook his head, unblinking eyes fixed on Jason's face.

"Alright then. If you're looking to get a tattoo, you'll have to make an appointment and I'll need to see some id."

Jason watches as Tim takes out a very expensive looking wallet, slip out his drivers license and slide it across the countertop. All without looking away, or blinking.

Jason is beginning to wonder if timothy ever really did give up the stalking.

Somehow, jason can imagine it.

Cute little baby stalker tim; caught and chastised; the bad habit nipped in the bud before it got too bad.

Too young and innocent; with his big blue eyes, to cause any real harm.

He may just have fooled the Bat-worlds-greatest-detective-Man.

Because tucked in the little clear window of his very nice wallet, jason just saw a picture.

Jason may be just as large and heavy as Bruce, but he still fits perfectly in his father’s lap. Bruce always sighs at the intrusion, saying something gruffly to try to get Jason off. He uses a voice that sits between Batman and Bruce—something raw but unsure.

Jason still doesn’t speak. He never does. Perhaps it’s out of annoyance, perhaps it’s out of fear. Either way, he prefers his stress relief to be free of tedious words.

Jason always grabs Bruce by the throat. Not harsh enough to choke, but firm enough to keep Bruce’s mouth shut. He loves the steady drum of his father’s heartbeat against his palm.

Jason then looks down between them, where he straddles Bruce’s lap, before using his free hand to fish out his cock. He always lets out a grunt when he fists the base, his entire body tense as he starts stroking.

Bruce remains as stoic as ever, as if he’s waiting for a child to come down from a temper tantrum. He knows this is wrong, which is why he never moves or speak during it. And yet, he can’t bring himself to push Jason away either. He’s a young man. And based on their lifestyle, perhaps this isn’t the worst way to seek a little relief.

As Jason continues to pleasure himself, his body becomes lax, and he sinks against Bruce. His forehead tends to wind up on the armor plating of Bruce’s shoulder, but sometimes his face presses against Bruce’s cheek. Their stubble rubs together as Jason breaths at an unsteady rhythm, tiny wounded sounds escaping his lips.

The small gasps and moans brush against the sensitive shell of Bruce’s ear, making his goosebumps sprout across his skin—though of course he doesn’t let Jason know. He can’t be weak and show any reaction. That would only encourage Jason’s… uncouth behavior.

They fuck about it and now treat each others very differently.