#jaykoriroy

There was nothing new about fighting with Jason but that didn’t mean it ever hurt less when it happened.

Every single shout and yell ripped its way through Tim’s heart, making him feel like he was going to just fall right then and there. But he wouldn’t. He would stand his ground and shout right back; through the tears and pain, he would inflict a mirrored feeling on Jason.

And he knew that. He could see that.

Jason’s shoulders would always bow forward whenever Tim finally raised his voice as if his voice was the strike of a rusty crow bar. It hurt Tim to see that he could do that to the powerful man but he always took advantage of it. There was no way he was not going to do that when it was the most effective weapon he had. It also insured that things would never get physical between them for Tim still doubted Jason when he promised to never lay a hand on him.

He had tried to kill him to many times before his head screwed itself on a bit better for Tim to believe him.

When the shouting finally stopped – normally when both of them were out of breath and panting – Jason would grab his jacket and storm out. Tim never had to ask where he was going; he already knew. That ‘not-a-team’ of his would be the ones to make sure he slept warm tonight. Koriand’r would wrap him up in her strong arms, cradling him so his head is pillowed on her voluptuous breasts while Roy kissed at the scars that ran down Jason’s back. He’d linger on the ones from the Joker’s beating, the one that had killed him, while Koriand’r lulled him to peace with filthy words.

That was why Tim never followed after Jason when he left or asked why he came back smelling of Roy’s cigarettes and Kori’s perfume. He already knew exactly what was going on and what was going to continue going on after every single fight.

It hurt Tim to know that Jason went out and found the comfort in the touch of two other people. It hurt even more to know that Jason never even hesitated to leave him standing there, crying and shaking, to go and have comfort sex with his two red-headed, anti- hero friends. In all honesty it broke Tim’s heart to know that it was so easy for him to be replaced like that.

But he would never tell or show him how much it hurt. He would just go and sit on their bed, patiently waiting for Jason to return to him.

Sometimes Dick would show up to bundle him in his arms, rocking him gently on the bed; sometimes Dick would show up and bundle him into warmer clothes and take him back to Wayne Manor so he and Alfred could fuss over him; sometimes Dick even brought Damian and even the youngest brother would hold his hand and just sit with him; sometimes Damian came alone and helped him stand so they could go watch old cartoons on the couch in the living room together.

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how they always knew that he was sitting in a pile of self-loathing and he really didn’t care. All he did know was that it was taboo to really speak about it once he and Jason were okay again.

What did vary each time was when he would finally see Jason again. More often than not he would wake up either on the couch or the bed and Jason would be lying next to him, playing with his hair or pressing tender kisses to his should. However, it was becoming more and more frequent that Tim wouldn’t see him until he donned his Red Robin uniform nights later and made his way to the Bat Cave where he would be greeted by a sheepish Jason and a bouquet of hand-picked flowers.

While the flowers were sweet, Tim always preferred to wake up at home with Jason wrapped around him. But he would take whatever he could get.