Tim, On His 13th Attempt To Sneak Out Of The Mansion To Go On Patrol With The Flu And Walking Pneumonia:

Tim, on his 13th attempt to sneak out of the mansion to go on patrol with the flu and walking pneumonia: I didn’t “lose” my spleen. To lose something is to imply you don’t know where it is, and I know exactly where my spleen is; it just isn’t in my body-

Alfred, tired™ and armed with a tranquilizer: Even so, Master Drake, I must insist you get back into bed.

"I didn't know!" - JayTim - Batman

"Hey," Jason spoke, "there's this new cafe that just opened up. On the corner of Smithe and Verance." He leaned against the heavy lining of the BatComputer, being entirely unhelpful.

Tim gave a noise of acknowledgement, busy logging information on recent arrivals of man power to the city. He's hoping there isn't a turf war about to start, and he'd be damned if he let it. Turf wars were notoriously bloody, the civilian casualties rose immensely, not to mention the culling of blood in the gangs. Insurrection within the gangs of Gotham followed immediately after, or even during, coups and mutinies were almost a guarantee. Everything in Gotham changed with a turf war.

It gummed up the morgue, the police station, and all the Bat's duties. It left other files open and investigations stalled.

"Would you..." Jason paused, "We could meet for a coffee when you're free next."

"Ya,” Tim snorted, a small smile on his face “when I'm not running a company, running a super team, or running for my life."

Tim could feel Jason staring at him, but when he turned away from the monitor, Jason was already walking away, footsteps silent.

Weird.

Coffee, while a life fuel, was usually more utilitarian than an actual outing. Not that Tim got time for a lot of outings that didn’t arise from his duties. Maybe it would be nice to grab a coffee and sit down with Jay for a bit. Later though, he had to finish the logs.

Tim finally made his way to the comfort of his bed in the manor after hours of cross checking and flagging passports and IDs. He really tried to stay at the Nest as often as he could, but late nights made early morning bed times, and the convenience of the king bed and Egyptian cotton sheets above the bat cave was hard to pass up, especially when limbs were sore and heavy from prolonged usage.

Freshly showered, wearing a worn-out sweater, and sweatpants that weren't originally his, but he had laid claim to, Tim flopped down on his bed, pulling the large duvet over his head and mentally thanking Bruce for the black out curtains.

Trying to get to sleep was always hard, caffeine flowing through him and antsy energy to finish a case made him restless. Even after days and nights of office work and crime fighting, sometimes he still found himself running through his day while he hoped his body would fall victim to sleep. He would think over and rethink every Wayne Enterprise interaction, every client offer, all his decisions while on patrol, and if any of them were right.

Even his conversations with the Bats, was he too snippy with Dick? Did Batman agree with his analysis? What was Jay talking about?

‘When you’re free next’. Free from what? Like, when he’s not busy ? Did Jay need him for a mission? What if the coffee shop was a front? Surely Jason would have led with that. He wouldn’t want Tim to walk in there blind and he hadn’t specified if it was for recon. Maybe Tim should go check it out, if Jay had doubts about it, it would be nice to know if they were founded.

‘When you’re free next’

It didn’t sound urgent. If it was a mission, or time sensitive, surely Jason would have pushed. Or gone himself. How dangerous could a new small coffee shop be that Jay needed back up? Was it a front for something and Jay wanted to make sure no one encroached on his territory? No, Smithe and Verance were closer to the Diamond District, still outside the high class area, not too far from The Nest, but far out from Hood territory.

‘We could meet for a coffee when you’re free next.’

Tim mulled it over in his head, running every possibility, but no conclusion he came to felt right. Maybe he would just have to talk to Jason when he woke up, ask him all the questions he had.

As Tim was slipping gently into unconsciousness, a fleeting thought passed by, not a conscious thought, but one that just popped in, unbidden.

‘Sounds like how you’d ask someone on a date’

Tim’s eyes shot open.

It was the most plausible conclusion he could come to, and now that he thought it, it wasn’t going away. Tim sat up, grabbed for his phone, yanking the charger out, and called Jason before he could think of what he was doing.

Every ring felt like it lasted twice as long as it should have. Tim had gone to sleep before sun up, which meant more than likely Jason was still on patrol.

Did that mean he would take less time to pick up? Or more time? If he was in the middle of a fight, he probably wouldn’t answer. His private line should be routed to his communicator, forwarding calls to him while on patrol - phones never really lasted if they were brought on patrol – which means Jason should at least hear the ringing.

While Jason and the family were moving towards something akin to colleagues, Jason only answered the Bats when he knew he had a minute to spare; and a private call would not be seen as an emergency, if it were an emergency, they would contact him directly through his com. Tim thought about moving to a com line to make Jason answer, but the com lines were as private as anything else when it came to the Bats. Which is to say not at all.

Just as Tim’s mind started to run faster, the click of a line opening drew his mind out of the potential spiral.

“What’s up, Babybird?” Jason’s voice sounding tinny through the phone line, his tone laden with lies.

“I didn’t know!” Tim nearly shouted into the phone before he could think. He was met with a heavy silence.

“Are you in danger?” Jason’s voice got quieter and lower.

“What? No. I’m talking about earlier! The date! I didn’t realize what you were asking and I was so distracted and I hadn’t slept in far too long and I didn’t know!” By the end of his frantic speech Tim’s voice had ended up whinier than he would ever have liked it to.

He was met with another bought of silence.

“Okay.” Jason replied

It was Tim’s turn to take a moment of silence, mourning his pride. “Okay.” Tim took a small breath, speaking softly, “I want to.”

“Okay.” A resolute sound, followed by silence.

“Okay?” Tim prompted, hoping for a small expansion of the idea.

“We can talk about it tomorrow. In person.” The tin of the Jason’s voice from the phone suddenly became far more evident, an echo chamber of lost privacy.

“Okay.” Tim repeated, closed his eyes and flopped his head down on the pillow, wishing he could figure out anything more to say.

“Get some sleep, BabyBird.” Jason’s voice was soft, tinged with the sound of a small smile. Tim could see it in his head. It made him want to slap Jason.

The phone clicked off. The room sounded far too quiet now.

Tim opened his eyes, his hand holding his phone dropped to his side, bouncing slightly on the impeccably made bed. Where did the exhaustion of the day go?