Chapter Text
When Jason wakes, Tim is still in his arms. His head is pillowed on Jason’s chest, his hand still curled loosely in his shirt, and one of his legs is thrown over Jason’s. The weight of him is solid, comforting… but even better is the gentle rise and fall of his chest; the way Tim is so lax and content against him.
A purr starts in Jason’s chest; so low as to be inaudible. Tim clearly feels it, though, because he starts to rumble in answer. It cuts out a moment later, Tim too deeply asleep to keep it up.
Jason’s heart is so full it feels like it might burst.
He could probably slip away, if he wanted to, but… Why would he? He’d rather indulge in this for as long as he can.
It's not until Tim starts to stir that Jason wonders if he made the wrong choice. Maybe he should have gotten up, left, allowed Tim to pretend that last night didn't happen. Maybe, even, this kind of thing happens more often than Jason thinks, and that's just what you're supposed to do. He just never had anyone to teach that to him.
Tim makes a soft, disgruntled little noise, turning his face more into Jason's chest.
Despite the worry unfurling in his belly, Jason can't help but smile, helplessly endeared.
"Mm… 'mega?" Tim mumbles, voice sleep-rough, the words smeared against Jason's shirt.
"Yeah." Jason has never heard himself sound so tender before. "Yeah, alpha. I'm here." He runs his fingers through the soft, silky strands on the back of Tim’s head.
Tim rumbles, nuzzling Jason’s collarbone before rising onto one arm. His eyes are still heavy-lidded, the sleep not entirely faded from his face. He leans down and presses a soft, sweet kiss against Jason's mouth.
It’s not the best kiss—both of them still have morning breath, and their lips are a little too dry. Jason doesn't mind, though, not really. He likes the closeness. The warmth. The affection he can feel, not just in their bond but in Tim's touch, the slow slide of their lips together.
The kiss is all-too-brief. Tim pulls back just enough to rub noses with him before resting their foreheads together. "Good morning."
“Good morning.” Jason’s echo rumbles with his purr—it makes him blush, a little. He reaches up to stroke Tim’s cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind his ear. “Are you um, are you feeling any better?” Maybe he shouldn’t bring up, maybe—
Tim rumbles again. “I am, thank you.” He nuzzles Jason’s cheek, a smile audible in his voice when he says, “You make a good pillow, puppy.”
Jason bites his lip, trying to fight a smile of his own—he fails, miserably. “Well. Good,” he says, flushing a little darker. He sounds so lame. “I’d be happy to—to be one again, if you want me to be. No nightmare required.”
Jason loves it when Tim holds him, but he thinks he might like holding him just as much. It feels good to know that his alpha trusts him—that his alpha is willing to rely on him, the way Jason relies on him.
Tim’s expression softens. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The bond ripples. Jason feels Tim’s affection, his gratitude—but something like wonder, too, like he can’t believe Jason would be willing to offer.
Jason tugs on it—it’s clumsy, he knows it is, he’s out of practice and even if he wasn’t, he’s never had a bond like this before. Tim makes a soft, startled little sound. Jason winces, letting an apology fill him first, lingering just long enough that he’s sure Tim felt it before he follows it with a flood of affection-pride-happiness.
Tim makes another noise. It’s— It sounds almost wounded, and Jason shrinks back, cuts the torrent of emotion off.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
Tim hushes him. “No, no, puppy, it’s okay— I just— You make me so happy.” His eyes are glassy, Jason realizes.
Jason strokes his cheek. “You make me happy too.”
“Good,” Tim whispers, and then slots their mouths together.
Jason sighs into Tim’s mouth, wrapping his arms around Tim’s neck to pull him even closer. Tim boxes him in; his arms on either side of Jason’s body. He licks at Jason’s mouth—Jason moans, lips parting to let him in. He hooks one of his legs around Tim’s hips as his fingers tangle in his hair.
More of Tim’s weight settles onto Jason’s body. Liquid heat spreads through Jason's veins. He relaxes back into the nest, boneless with it; with the security that comes from his alpha surrounding him, filling his senses.
Tim slips a hand under Jason’s shirt. Trails of heat follow his fingers until his hand settles under Jason’s breast.
Jason suckles at Tim's tongue. Tim's answering moan shoots straight down to his core; makes him more aware of the way his groin has started to ache with interest.
“Tim—“
Tim growls in answer; no threat in it, only a rumbling promise that makes Jason's leg tighten around him, his toes curling.
Tim rolls his hips. The bulge of his cock, hot and heavy, rubs against Jason's. He clenches down on nothing, feeling the slightest trickle of slick leak out of him. The honey in his scent gets stronger, thicker. Tim growls again, and Jason makes a soft, keening noise in response.
Tim swallows it down. His hand slips further up Jason's shirt, rucking it up even higher. The contrast of cold air with the warmth of Tim's body, his skin, makes Jason shiver. His nipples pebble—he gasps when Tim's thumb strokes over it. His hips roll, grinding up against Tim's bulge, looking for more of that delicious friction.
Tim gives it to him.
He lets go of Jason's breast just long enough to encourage his other leg to wrap around him, and then he's back again. It takes them a moment to figure out how to move together, but soon, they're rolling their hips in sync.
Jason feels himself get wetter and wetter. He'd blush, but his body is already flushed with the heat of his arousal. He can't get any darker. And he doesn't care, either, not really.
Not when it feels so good.
Every brush of Tim's bulge against his has his walls clenching, fluttering, looking for something to clamp down around. The liquid heat in his belly, his groin, grows hotter. Drips down, down, the seat of his underwear growing wetter.
"Tim, alpha," Jason gasps, fingers tightening in Tim's hair and pulling.
The alpha groans—growls. He nips Jason's lip, almost too roughly, before pulling away.
A strand of spit connects them. Jason almost follows it, chases him, but then it breaks as Tim skims his mouth over Jason's jaw, down his neck, where he wraps his lips around Jason's mating gland.
Jason shudders, a low keen coming from somewhere deep in his chest as his hips stutter upward. His head tips back, baring his throat, mouth falling open.
"Alpha," he says again; higher, breathier.
"Omega," Tim echoes, voice deep, rumbling with a growl.
He doesn't bite him. He scrapes his teeth over the healed-over wound, and then sucks.
That's all it takes to send Jason over the edge, shuddering again as his cock spurts, filling his panties. It feels—embarrassing. Shameful, almost, but that just makes it hotter.
Especially when his alpha growls possessively against his neck, nipping his mating gland before nuzzling into him. He tweaks Jason's nipple one more time before slipping his hand out of his shirt and gripping his ass, holding Jason still as he grinds against him.
The feeling of his alpha breathing against his skin, scenting him, surrounding himself with Jason while he uses him to get off—
Jason clenches again, wanting desperately to feel Tim inside of him. Even more than that, though, he wants to feel Tim come like this. Wants to see, feel, him fall apart just from the feeling of Jason's body under his.
"Alpha," he breathes, bracing his feet, curling his toes into the blankets so he can raise his hips, meeting Tim's thrusts again.
"Jason—" Tim's grip on him tightens as he ruts against him. There's no finesse in it, now; no careful control, only feverish desperation. Each drag of his cock against Jason's sends sparks arcing up his spine, bordering on the edge of too much.
Jason's skin feels tight, tingly; his right nipples rubbing against the fabric of his borrowed t-shirt and making his belly clench, more slick dripping out of him. It trickles down his ass, his thighs. The air is pungent with their combined arousal.
Then—
Stars burst behind Jason's eyelids—when did he close his eyes?—as teeth sink into his neck, just above his mating gland. Tim's hips stutter. He lets go of Jason's ass, shoving a hand between them. Grabbing his knot, Jason realizes. He can't feel Tim's come—not the way he wants to.
On impulse he shoves his own hand between them, working it under the waistband of Tim's pants. He bites his lip at the feeling of the mess within; the fever-hot liquid smearing over his fingers. Tim's knot is blown wide. Jason wraps his hand around it—Tim moves, letting him, a bitten off whimper escaping him for the second that nothing is tight around him.
Jason had thought there was no blood left for him to blush with—but he finds that he was wrong. His face feels like it's on fire. Tim's knot is swollen, pulsing in his hand. He can feel the hair at the base, as sweat and cum smears over his skin.
Tim whimpers again, hips twitching.
Jason's hand loosens automatically. "Too tight?" he whispers, voice high, panicky.
Tim shakes his head. "Not tight enough." He wraps his hand over Jason's. It feels like he's squeezing too tight; like the swollen organ is going to pop under his touch.
He trusts Tim, though, trusts him to know what he needs, what feels good. To keep Jason from hurting him.
They lie there, just like that. Tim eventually lets go of Jason's hand, bracing his arm against the nest. It lets him distribute his weight more evenly, flexing his shoulder slightly. Jason keeps his grip firm. He thinks his palm might be sweating a little.
The knot's pulsing stops after a while. He can still feel—something. The throb of Tim's heart, maybe; the blood pumping, keeping it blown. It's not as strong.
Still weird—but not unpleasant.
Tim noses his jaw. "You can let go." His voice is scratchy, husky; Jason shivers a little.
"Are you sure?" he whispers.
"Yeah." Tim lifts his head. His face is still a little flushed; a slight haziness in his eyes. "It's going down. It won't hurt if you let go now."
Jason still hesitates a moment longer before finally withdrawing his hand. His hand is covered in Tim's mess. He flushes at the sight of it and then, on a whim, raises it to his mouth, tentatively lapping at the off-white liquid. Tim makes a bitten off sound at the sight.
The flavor is—familiar. Salty, musky. He's tasted it before. But there's also something… unique about it. A richness that's purely Tim.
"Fuck, Jay." Tim's voice is low, his eyes trained on Jason's mouth.
Jason's flush darkens—but he doesn't stop licking, his tongue growing more confident as he cleans his hand of every last drop of cum.
His hand has barely moved away from his face before Tim's mouth is on his, licking into his mouth like he means to chase the taste of himself down Jason's throat. Jason moans, slipping his spit-slick hand into Tim's hair and gripping tight. Tim growls. The sound makes Jason's walls flutter again.
Tim pulls away roughly. His breaths come quick and harsh against Jason's mouth. "If we don't get up now, I'm not sure we ever will."
Jason hums. "That doesn't sound like such a bad idea." The opposite, actually. Jason would like nothing more than for Tim to keep him trapped in their nest all day.
Tim growls again. "Temptress."
Jason laughs. "It was your idea," he says, running his hand down Tim's back.
Tim nips his lower lip before nuzzling his cheek. "I know. We should shower and eat, at least."
Jason wrinkles his nose a little. The comment reminds him of the cooling mess in his pants. "…yeah. A shower would be really nice."
He gets another nuzzle, and then Tim climbs out of the nest, to his feet. He offers a hand to Jason, who takes it, allowing Tim to pull him up and to the bathroom.
By unspoken agreement, they end up sharing. Tim gets Jason off again in the shower; holding him up and fingering him until Jason shudders apart in his arms. When they get out, they towel off and dress. It’s tempting to crawl back into the nest again, and Jason would if not for the way his stomach has started to growl. They get breakfast instead—cereal, with Tim commenting that they’ll need to go grocery shopping again some time soon—which they eat on the couch while the news plays, and the weatherman promises more steadily dropping temperatures.
When it finishes, Tim turns the TV off. His arm is draped over Jason’s shoulders, with Jason tucked against his side, and for a long moment… neither of them does anything. The weight of Tim’s arm is comforting. So is the steady rise and fall of Tim’s shoulder as he breathes.
Jason could almost fall back to sleep.
Only almost.
Instead, he tips his head back slightly, so he can see the side of Tim’s face, and asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”
The question lingers between them, long enough that Jason almost thinks Tim isn’t going to answer. He opens his mouth—to take the words back, maybe, or clarify his question, like Tim might not know what he was asking about—but before he can say anything, Tim finally answers him.
“I was… reliving a memory. I think. It’s…” Tim stops again, staring off in the distance. His eyes aren’t quite glazed over, but… whatever Tim is seeing, it’s not the blank TV screen or the photos on the wall. “It’s fuzzy. I don’t know how much of it is real and how much of it is just… stuff I made up, to fill in the gaps.” He laughs humorlessly, dragging his gaze to meet Jason’s again. “I guess it doesn’t matter, really. But it’s… The circumstances are hard to explain without context, and…” Tim sighs, shifting. The movement forces Jason to move, but only for a moment, just enough for Tim to pull him into his lap.
It would be easy for Jason to stop it—Tim’s grip is loose, the initial tug gentle enough that he could easily pull away if he wanted to. He doesn’t. Instead, he moves with him, getting comfortable, seated sideways on Tim’s thighs with his legs stretched out onto the couch.
“I should have told you already,” he says. For a second, he looks like he’s going to say more before he thinks better of it, swallowing like he’s swallowing the words themselves.
That’s okay. Jason is pretty sure he knows what Tim would have said: I’m just not ready. He leans into him. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Tim noses his cheek. “You deserve to know. You deserved to know the day after your heat ended. The longer I wait…”
Jason hums. “Yeah,” he says, running his thumb over Tim’s collarbone, catching slightly at the collar of his t-shirt. “Yeah, you’re right. I deserve to know. But… it’s a lot, isn’t it? It’s going to change things. It’s okay if that scares you. It scares me.” He bites his cheek. “But… I do— I care about you. A lot. And I want to know you.”
Tim exhales slowly, almost shakily. “I care about you too,” he says, arms tightening around him. “So much.”
Jason purrs softly—he can’t help it, really. He turns, catching Tim’s mouth in a kiss. It’s brief, sweet. Almost as sweet as the way Tim sighs against his mouth.
“Good,” Jason tells him, sliding his hand up to cup Tim’s cheek. Tim leans into the touch, expression soft and adoring. “Tell me something.” The words come out of Jason’s mouth almost without his permission. “No context. Just—something, anything, as long as it makes you happy.”
Tim’s eyes widen at the request—demand, almost—but then… he smiles. Grins, really, with a spark of something playful in his expression.
It has Jason grinning back at him.
Tim turns to kiss Jason’s palm. The kiss lingers. Jason can see the wheels in Tim’s mind turning, before finally he says, “I once stole a Batmobile.”
“Bullshit!” Jason cries delightedly, as Tim’s grin turns smug, catlike. “And here I thought I was hot shit for stealing three of the tires.” That move had set him up for almost a year—and, when nothing happened to him after, had been his ‘in’ to the chop shop he’d worked in… before the cops started sniffing around, anyway.
Tim’s eyes widen again before a laugh bubbles out of him. “How old were you?”
Jason only has to think about it for a second. He’d found the Batmobile right around his birthday. Stumbling on it, parked in that alleyway… It had been like a gift from the city itself. “Twelve.”
Tim shakes his head, his grin somehow widening. “Amazing,” he says, with a sincerity that makes Jason blush. His hand trails up Jason’s side. “Absolutely amazing.”
Jason flicks his nose. “Don’t you start again,” he warns. The threat is dimmed by the way he can’t keep the smile off his face, or stop the way his blush is climbing up toward his ears.
That sly, smug smile is back on Tim’s face. “Or what?”
Jason growls playfully—and lunges forward, dragging Tim into a fierce kiss.
It’s ages before they pull apart. It never goes further than kissing, though both of Tim’s hands end up under Jason’s shirt—one cupping his chest, the other resting on his back. Desire pools in his belly. A now almost-familiar throb has started in his groin, pulsing in time with his heart.
Jason’s lips feel swollen. His flush has spread from his face to his neck, his chest. It would be easy to turn this into something else—to grind his hips down on the bulge he can clearly feel against his thigh, or rut against Tim’s abdomen. Just the thought makes saliva pool in his mouth and his scent sweeten with want.
Tim watches him with dark eyes. His breathing is deep, his own scent musky with arousal, but he doesn’t act. He waits; silent and still, letting Jason make the first move.
It’s thrilling, knowing he’s in control. That he could take and Tim would let him.
But—
He hasn’t forgotten what Tim said earlier, when they were getting breakfast. Nor has he completely lost track of time. They only have so many hours before night begins to fall and it gets even colder outside. So, reluctantly, Jason takes a deep breath through his mouth. It helps, a little. “We should probably go shopping before it gets too cold.”
Tim hums. “You’re right.” The note of disappointment in his voice is better concealed than Jason’s, but audible nonetheless. “If we go now, we’ll have time to stop at the library too.” He slides his hand down, passing over Jason’s side and making him shiver.
Jason rumbles a little, unable to resist the urge to lean in for another, more brief kiss. “Maybe— Maybe when we get home we could… pick up where we left off?” He bites his lip.
“Yeah,” Tim says, his eyes on Jason’s mouth. “Yeah, we can do that.”
It’s a nice outing. Jason spends a little longer in the library than he means to, getting lost amid the shelves while he picks up his next stack to bring home. They have lunch at a quiet little Italian place before finally heading to the grocery store. It’s a very different trip from the first one. Tim gives Jason the grocery list, letting him take the lead as they make their way through the aisles.
Then, finally, they head home, with the sky already starting to darken overhead.
Tim takes the bulk of the bags as they make their way up the apartment steps. When they get to the right floor, though, both of them stop at the sight of someone—bald, dressed in a spiked purple jacket—waiting by the door. They’re leaning against the wall, scrolling on a phone screen. Just as they stop, though, the person looks up.
The back of Jason’s neck prickles, his finely honed survival instinct whispering: Dangerous.
“Hey, boss.” There’s a hoarseness to the voice, which bears a thick English accent.
“Pru.”
Jason’s heard that name before. Where… Oh. I want to hear the minute you find it, Pru. Find what? Tim’s kiss had distracted him from asking.
He sweeps his gaze over her again. She’s not carrying anything; her hands empty except for her phone. There’s no bags at her feet. Whatever she’s found, she either didn’t bring with her or it’s too small for Jason to spot.
“Jason.” The sound of his name draws his gaze back to Tim, who meets it with a small, reassuring smile. “This is Pru— Prudence Wood. We work together.” The bond thrums, affection tempered by wariness. “Pru, this is—”
“The pup,” she finishes. “Jason.” Her face betrays nothing as she gives him a once over. Neither does her scent, which she’s other blocked or suppressing. “Nice to finally see you in person.”
Jason blinks. “Tim mentioned me?” He supposes that makes sense. They’re mated. But… Tim’s never talked about Pru before. Or… anyone, really. In fact, other than vague asides, Tim hasn’t mentioned anything about his life before or outside of Jason.
He doesn’t frown, but it’s a near thing.
“Yes,” Tim says. “I’ve brought you up a few times.”
Pru snorts. “Sure. A few times.” Tim shoots her a Look—but the bond is more embarrassed than upset. Before Jason can ask just what he’s been saying, she adds, “Whaddya say we head inside, huh?” while jerking her thumb toward the door.
Right, yeah. Jason steps forward, over to the door. He has to set down some of the bags he’s carrying to fish out the apartment key Tim had given him so he can unlock the door. Then, he picks the bags up and pushes inside, Tim following behind.
With her platform boots, Jason expects Pru to have a heavy step, but he doesn’t hear her at all as she enters behind them. Her earrings, which dangle almost to her shoulders, don’t even jingle. She shuts the door. The click of the latch is at least still audible.
Jason also expects Tim to set the bags down and tell Jason he needs to leave. Instead, Tim stays. For a few moments, they’re quiet; the only sound the rustling of the bags. But then, as soon as Tim closes the fridge, the cold items put away, he says, “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“Shit, did I forget to schedule an appointment? How fuckin’ stupid of me.” She snorts, rolling her eyes as she leans against the arm of the couch. “Friends drop in on each other, don’t they?”
Tim sighs. “Pru.” There’s a sliver of amusement in the bond, despite the weary note in his voice.
“Yeah, alright. I… tracked down the package you were interested in,” Pru says. Her gaze flicks to Jason. “Figured you’d like to pick it up in person instead of just having me play errand girl.”
And that couldn’t have been a call?
Tim doesn’t ask that, though. Instead a tremor runs through the bond before he shuts it. Jason can still feel that he’s there, at least, but he can no longer sense what he’s feeling. “Yes,” he says. “I would.” It’s only three words, but there’s a coldness to his voice Jason isn’t used to. His hackles raise, skin prickling. Instinctively, he finds himself glancing at all the doors and windows, calculating his best path of escape.
“Guess you’re going to work early tonight then.” Jason keeps his voice carefully neutral.
He’d meant what he said earlier: he understands why Tim hasn’t told him yet. But… When he’d said that, he hadn’t realized just how little he knows about Tim’s life in general. Like, sure he knows Tim’s favorite color and how he takes his coffee, and what his daily routine is like. Kind of. His routine is probably different, because of Jason’s presence, and having to keep his life separate.
And… He has an insight into Tim’s emotions. Most of the time. When Tim isn’t blocking it.
“Yeah.” Tim’s voice brings him back to the present. He’s looking at Jason, an apologetic smile on his mouth and concern in his eyes—because he can sense Jason’s emotions too. “I’m sorry. This is important.” His gaze flickers over Jason’s face.
Jason takes a slow breath, and smiles. He can spiral later, when Tim is gone, and the connection is closed. “I understand.” He steps closer. “Be careful.”
Tim leans down, kissing him briefly. “I will be,” he promises.
And then he leaves, locking the door behind him as he goes. Neither of them had even had a chance to take their coats off. Jason does that now, his gloves already shoved into its pockets. He hangs it up, and then turns to look at the empty apartment.
Specifically, he finds his eyes drifting over the photos on the walls.
He still likes them, the image they portray of Gotham; the darkness of her, contrasted with the light. But this time, he looks past that, toward something else, something he hadn’t noticed before.
While there are people in Tim’s pictures, there aren’t any familiar faces. What faces are caught are clearly caught by happenstance, and they don’t show up again. The pictures are of the city. And… the city is all there is. There are no photos that are focused, clearly, on people. And definitely not any of Tim with other people.
All of the calls Tim has taken since Jason has been living with him have been work or doctor related. Jason can’t really say what Tim does on his laptop or when he’s texting, so maybe he communicates with friends that way, but… He’s never mentioned that. Just work. And ‘work’ is kept vague.
No one has dropped by, before Pru.
Jason had already guessed that Tim was packless, but that didn’t prevent him from having friends. And… clearly there were some people in his life, because— The night Tim had taken him home, he’d had clothes in Jason’s size, and children’s Tylenol on hand, and spare toothbrushes, and spare nesting supplies. Which. Maybe the toothbrushes were normal, but the rest of it?
Since they rebuilt their nest together, Jason hasn’t really been in the spare den. He goes there now, turning the light on. It’s back to the bare state it had started in; just an empty nest frame and a dresser. The dresser is what piques his interest now.
He pulls open the drawers, finding the spare clothes there. There’s the stuff Jason had borrowed, the stuff clearly meant for a kid, and then— There’s also larger clothes. Too big for him, but also too big for Tim.
So who are they for? Was this den always empty?
Jason puts the clothes away, shoving the drawer shut. He hasn’t done any snooping since that first night, after his heat. Maybe it’s time to go searching again.
Starting with their shared den. He’s never snooped around in there before. Guilt twinges in his chest, but he ignores it. This is his den too. He’s allowed to poke around if he wants.
He makes a beeline for Tim’s closet. It’s really the only place to hide things in Tim’s room, unless he’s got a fake book hidden in his bookshelf somewhere. Jason goes through his drawers often enough, after all—though, he will give then a perfunctory search just to make sure there’s nothing he missed. The closet, though. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever gone through that, and he’s only ever seen Tim go into it once.
Inside, there are clothes of course. There are garment bags in the back of the closet, and a number of button-up shirts, slacks, some polos… There are also dresses, in all range of lengths and cuts. Jason skims his fingers over them. They don’t smell new. Unlike nesting supplies, clothes aren’t usually kept in carefully sealed bags to prevent them from picking up scents. New clothes always carry traces of everyone whose touched them—and most prominently, the almost offensively neutral scent of a public space.
These clothes just smell like Tim’s detergent. And Tim.
He looks away from the clothes. There are shoes, too. Loafers and boots and heels and sandals and— All kinds of shoes. But more importantly, there are boxes. Cardboard boxes, but also suitcases, and a trunk. And there are even more boxes on the shelves at the top of the closet. Best left alone for now.
He kneels. He opens the trunk first—and then shuts it again just as quickly, face aflame. He’d only caught a glimpse of the contents, but that was enough. Red rope, silvery cuffs, and a—fairly realistic looking cock, except for the fact it was solid black. Probably nothing hidden in there. Jason might check it for… other reasons later, but for now…
He opens one of the smaller cardboard boxes and finds a bunch of black bags. They’re soft to the touch, silky almost. Jason opens one and finds… a wig. He opens a couple of the others, just to be sure, but. All of them contain wigs, in different colors and probably styles as well. He doesn’t take them out to be sure.
Another box has carefully stored lingerie. Among the boxes is a jewelry box, which Jason doesn’t bother to open. Instead, he decides to use the chest as a footstool to reach the higher shelves, grabbing the first box he sees.
The box is full of envelopes, each of which contains stacks of photos. At first, he thinks it might be another bust. The first two envelopes he opens are full of more city-scapes—beautiful, sure, but they tell him nothing… except for the date printed on the back.
It’s not until he picks up a third envelope that, finally, his search bears fruit. It contains photos of people. Tim, with three others. The back of each photo has a date—all of them date to the same day, a little over a year ago—and then four initials: K, B, C, and T.
T is easy enough—that’s Tim. Paging through the pictures allows him to match the other letters to faces. C is blond, a little taller than Tim, and wearing a Wonder Woman t-shirt. B has wild red hair and a face full of freckles. Some part of him is almost always blurred in the pictures, even when he’s sandwiched between the others. K is dark haired, wearing a leather jacket and a black Superman t-shirt.
There’s no indication of where the photos were taken, only that it couldn't have been in Gotham. The sun is too bright, the sky too blue. More interesting, though, is the closeness between them; the way they’re always touching even when they’re not posing and the shot is more candid.
When he finishes paging through that set, he goes through a few more. It’s not until he picks up an envelope in the very back of the box that he finds any new faces. The envelope mostly contains landscape photos, showing off rolling waves of sand and cacti and other splashes of greenery Jason doesn't know the names of. But, intermixed with them are photos of Pru, and two other men. Tim is present in only one of the photos.
He’s dressed in simple white clothes, and he looks—younger, but sharper too. He’s not smiling; instead, his expression is eerily blank and closed off. So is his body language.
Same as before, there’s a year and initials on the back of the photos. These pictures, featuring Z, O, P, and T were taken four, almost five years ago.
Jason lingers on them for a long time before he finally puts the envelope back.
It’s tempting to keep looking—not just to search for more people, more connections that Tim has, but to see the places he’s been, the history of who he is. But… the longer he looks, the more the guilt in his chest grows.
He started this to find answers, but… all he’s found are more questions. Sure, now he has evidence that there are other people in Tim’s life, but nothing about who they are or how close he is to them now, in the present day. And, the people in the photos still don’t explain the presence of the mystery clothes.
Do they belong to other people like Jason? Does Tim often bring strays home? Is Jason just the one who he happened to mate?
Those aren’t the kind of questions he can answer by rummaging through Tim’s things.
Jason sighs before carefully setting the box back on its shelf. He climbs down and scoots the trunk back into place too. Then he gives the closet a cursory once over to make sure nothing looks out of place before closing it up again.
The only way he's going to get any answers is by asking Tim himself.