Work Text:
“What’s up old man.” Jason greets as he gets off the bike. The sound of the engine still echoes around the cave. Bouncing between the stalagmites. Bruce looks up from the computer, he’s in full batsuit, but with the crowl hanging down his back.
“Jason.” He stares at Jason’s leg. “How is the thigh?”
“Healing up just fine you worrywart, it’s just a scratch.” He walks over and leans against the console. Bruce studies his movements intently, frowning all the while.
“You were stabbed, deep enough to require stitches.”
“But it missed anything vital, so as I said, a scratch.” The screen is mostly occupied by a casefile, pictures of the murder scene spread around the monitors. Jason recognizes the victim from the news, a local politician. He could have sworn Tim picked up that case.
“So did you want anything in particular?”
Bruce sighs “have you seen Tim lately?”
“We busted a drug ring together four days ago.” Jason crosses his arms “where are you going with this?”
“And without a mask on?”
Of course Bruce can’t just answer the question. Jason rolls his eyes and thinks back. They text all the time, but the last time he saw Tim in person outside their work was…
“Movie night, little over two weeks ago.”
Bruce nods, a frown prominent between his eyes. “This was taken yesterday.” A few keystrokes bring a new picture up on the monitor. It’s Tim and he looks like dead. Sickly pale and with black circles under his eyes so prominent they look more like bruises. Even in the picture, his eyes seem slightly glassed over, squinting to look at something on the Batcomputer’s giant-ass monitor.
“When was the last time he slept?” Jason grabs the edge of the table and looks back at Bruce. Who looks almost pained watching the picture, the size of it on the screen only highlighting how bad shape the kid is in.
“I don’t know.” Bruce’s tone is so growly it’s almost his bat-voice. “I have told him to take a break, to get more sleep, and take care of himself, but…”
“Kid’s as stubborn as the rest of us, so why did you call me here?”
“You have made him take time off before.”
Jason snorts. “By literally hog-tying him and forcing him on a plane.”
“If that’s what it takes.” Bruce’s mouth is set in grim determination, Jason raises an eyebrow despite his helmet completely hiding the gesture.
“You want me to kidnap him again?”
“He can’t go on like this, and if he won’t listen to reason alternative solutions have to be considered.”
Jason can’t help it. He throws his head back, distorted laughter bouncing between the cave walls. This should be entertaining, but he can’t resist the urge to mess with Bruce in the progress.
“I don’t kidnap people for free old man, so pay up.” Jason totally would snatch up the babybird, however many times it takes to keep the little shit alive, but Bruce doesn’t need to know that.
“Name your price.” Bruce has his serious face on and Jason can’t hold back a grin, this should be all kinds of fun.
Tim is so close to cracking the case, if he could just get the words to stop swimming around the screen long enough to actually read them, he’s sure he would figure it out.
He makes a grab for the coffee, knocking several empty cans of energy drink off the table in the process. He can clean it up later. Tipping back the cup produces nothing but air. Tim frowns, he’s sure he just brewed another pot. But no, it stands empty next to his computer. None of the cups littering the desk contains the liquid gold either.
Tim sighs, trying once again to focus on his murder case. But no, the details blur together, his thoughts sluggish and uncooperative. He needs coffee to focus. If he can just focus for a few more hours he's sure he would get the murderer.
Tim gets up from the office chair, having to lean against it until the room stops spinning and he can grab the coffee pot. Making his way to the kitchen with one hand trailing against the wall.
He keeps the lights off, not wanting to alleviate his headache. Slumping over the counter as the coffee starts to brew. Tim's mouth is dry and tastes of something horrible that’s definitely not the last pot he drank. It’s also not the apple he ate… that was definitely today.
The familiar ding of a done machine has him straightening up. The smell of fresh coffee already makes him feel a little more awake. He reaches for the pot, his hand doesn’t make contact with the handle.
“Yeah, not happening Timmer’s.”
Tim stares incomprehensibly at the gloved hand encircling his wrist, before following it up the arm, shoulder, and lastly the head. A red helmet stare back at him.
“What… Jason doing here.”
“Wow slurring your words, you’re even worse than you look replacement.” Jason takes off the helmet with his other hand and dumps it on the counter. “And that’s like shit by the way.”
Tim tugs at his wrist, whining when the hand doesn’t let go. He needs that coffee, he has a brutal murderer to catch.
“Like I said, not fucking happening.” Jason peels off the mask and Tim is met with uncompromising blue eyes. Jason tugs Tim towards him and grabs both his hands in an ironlike grip, before Tim even thinks of doing something useful with his free limb.
“Jay I have a case, it’s important.” His voice comes out as another whine, but at least all the words are there and in the right order.
“They always are, but nobody is actively dying so we are taking care of you first.”
“But-”
“No buts,” Jason shifts to a one-handed hold to flick him on the forehead, Tim going cross-eyed to follow the motion. “You’re currently looking more undead than me, so get your zombie-ass to bed.”
Tim shakes his head and tugs weakly against the grip. “I have-”
“You’re taking a nap, while I get groceries and cook you a real dinner.” Jason gives the empty fast food packaging littering the counters a dirty look. “And after you eat that and drink some actual water it’s straight back to bed.”
“I’m so close t-”
“Don’t make me bring out the sedatives Timberlina,” Jason smirks, but his voice is nothing but firm determination. “I brought them, and I’m more than willing to use them.”
Tim whines. “What are you even doing here?”
“Apparently I’m keeping your sorry ass alive, since you can’t seem to manage that on your own.”
“I’m not dead.” He would have noticed if he died.
“Not for lack of trying.” Jason starts dragging him towards the bedroom. Tim digs his heels in only for the world to once again spin around him. Black edges creeping into his vision. They are out of the kitchen before Tim figures out it’s because his older brother is now carrying him in his arms like a little kid. Tim would be embarrassed if he had the energy to spare.
“Jaaaay.” Pushing weakly at the arms does not get him released.
“It’s bedtime for little geniuses.”
“I don’t have a bedtime.”
“A terrible mistake.” Jason crosses the threshold into Tim’s bedroom. “That will be corrected if you keep this up much longer.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“You sure of that?” Jason drags back the covers before dumping him on the madras, Tim’s head sent spinning once more. Jason comes back into the room just as the black spots disappear again, pressing a giant glass of water into his hands.
“Bottom-up, then sleep.”
“Bu-” Tim takes a sip when Jason glares at him, managing to make petting his jacket pocket an extremely threatening movement. The pointed stare only disappears when the last of the water does the same. His brother removing the glass and pressing Tim down on his back. He hardly remembers being tucked in like this before as Jason packs the duvet around him.
“My case.” Tim protests weakly, all his muscles seeming to liquefy, sinking into the softness beneath him like it will swallow him hold. Moving suddenly seems like an enormous task.
“Let B follow up on a few leads while you reboot your brain.
“But-”
“You already made great progress, nobody doubts you will have it solved in no time.” Jason sits at the edge of the bed, stripping off his gloves and carting a hand through Tim’s hair. The nails scraping over his scalp feel amazing. “You have nothing to prove babybird, to anyone, least of all us.”
It’s like he sinks even further into the mattress. Every limb so so heavy, like someone replaced his bones with lead. Thoughts slipping out of his grasp, head feeling stuffed full of cotton.
“I will wake you for food in a few hours. Sleep Tim, I got you.”
He can’t formulate a response, doesn’t think he needs to. Hands in his hair the last thing Tim registers before sleep pulls him under.