Dangerous to reason
March 1, 2004
Disclaimers: If they were mine... I'm honestly unsure what I'd do.
Spoilers: Vague ones up through Teen Titans #8.
Summary: Tim has a day. Bart's involved.
Ratings Note: NC-17.
Author's Note: Almost entirely Livia's fault. She is the queen of wrong, wrong bunnies.
Title from Samuel Johnson: "Solitude is dangerous to reason, without being favourable to virtue.... Remember that the solitary mortal is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, and possibly mad."
Acknowledgments: To the Jack and Livia for audiencing, encouragement, and helpful suggestions.
There's something a little disturbing about being a Titan, now. More than the distressingly afterschoolactivity -esque rides out to San Francisco with Batman, more than the fact that it feels like he's agreed to something far, far more permanent than he ever wanted to -- he isn't Dick, and he isn't Bruce, and the whole idea of being on a team sometimes makes him twitch, deep inside, where he can't stop it.
Tim still isn't sure why Young Justice was different, but it was. Maybe because it never felt remotely permanent. The 'young' pretty much guaranteed it would all end in that increasingly-nebulous future of his retirement, and it should be the same for the 'Teen' Titans.
It isn't. The name exists independent of age and team makeup. It has a meaning to be lived up to, and a weight.
But that's not the problem.
The problem is that it's only been a few weeks, and yet there's already a rhythm to this. A weekend ritual of catching up with them -- his team -- that somehow already means more than what he gets through Oracle's systems and his own during the week. A familiarity to the faces and smells and everything else.
The Tower shouldn't feel like a place to come home to. He already has too many of those that aren't his actual home. This has to change. And... he's been saying that to himself for months, now, to the point where the thought's increasing urgency has its own sort of comfort.
But... not this week.
This week, the fascinating mystery of Cassie's new lasso has a new wrinkle -- she appears to be wearing it all the time, now. It was tucked against her skin when she pulled off the sweater to reveal her uniform. There's a lot there that he really, really wants to know.
Not to mention the undeniable thrill of watching Kon bend over backwards to avoid admitting to another week's worth of detentions back in Smallville. He gets this look on his face, a twisted little frown of embarrassment and consternation that... Tim's allowed to have fun. He is. It doesn't all have to be about all the ways he's trying not to be Bruce, or even Dick.
Some things are just amusing.
And then there's... Bart. Kid Flash, except...
"I don't think Wally's hair was ever that short," Tim says, by way of greeting.
"It's not about Wally!"
He knows that, too. He lets himself grin to show it, and Bart scowls at him. It's surprisingly effective with the new buzz cut. He thinks about ways he can, perhaps, get that across, but by then Kon and Beast Boy have joined them.
"Dude, what happened?"
Beast Boy just gets right down to rubbing Bart's head. His hair. All quarter-inch of it. Bart... thumps.
His foot, that is. The vibration is enough to make Tim have to steady himself, a little. He really shouldn't be surprised -- he already knows what kind of chaos can occur when Bart gets tickled.
"Hey, cool!" Kon says, and gets in on the Bartpetting action.
"Quit it!" And Bart's giggling and vibrating and doing an extremely bad job of fighting Kon and Beast Boy off. Worse when Beast Boy shifts into an entirely apt ape form and keeps petting. "Oooh, fur -- no, quit it!"
Tim smiles to himself. "So what did happen, Bart?"
"Oh -- I -- HEEE! -- no no no heeeeee! -- weird terrorist guys at -- aaaack stoppit stoppit -- construction site and there was tar and -- HEE!"
Tim's cape whirls, and he checks behind him to find Bart... crouching. "You got tar in your hair?"
"Yeah. I could vibrate myself hot enough to get most of it to kind of slide off, but I can't vibrate my hair."
"Mm," Tim says, and ducks for the large, green primate currently diving over his head.
When he stands up again, Kon is clearly thinking about strategy in terms of how best to get around him.
"Rob, man, you have got to try this."
It's tempting, what with Kory's flowers shaking their way off the tables, and the imminent disaster of the small, clearly audible earthquakes in the cabinets. Not all chaos is inherently traumatic.
It's even more tempting to try to thwart Kon. But... he wants to check their schedule, and see if there's anything the adults aren't telling them this week, perhaps involving the Raven issue. He smirks and sweeps aside, leaving Kon a clear field to the tangle of Bart and Beast Boy. "Maybe later."
He finds Kory in one of the gardens, doing her unconscious best to make yet another mundane activity pornographic. Tim thinks those shorts are his size. Or were, a few years ago.
He represses the thought and crouches in front of her. As a male of the species, he has plenty of practice focusing on a woman's face, at least.
"Robin! What can I do for you?"
She smiles at him so sincerely that he pretty much has to smile back, even though he knows... she's warming up to him. It's just who she is -- it's hard to imagine Kory staying cool or casual with anyone who isn't actively trying to kill them. Still, she's one of those people who look at him and try very, very hard to see Dick, and are thus disappointed when it's only him.
It's the sort of thing that makes him quietly, disturbingly glad Jason hadn't had more time to make an impression on people outside of his 'family.' Easier to watch the mild, familiar sense of trouble slide across Kory's strange eyes. "I was just wondering how it's going with Raven."
"The weekly meeting is in a few hours, Robin," she says, and turns back to weeding one disturbinglyalien clump of plants away from another.
From anyone else, it would be a rebuke. With Kory, it probably still is, but even her frown-line is more attractive than convincing.
He wonders if this is ever problematic for her.
He makes his voice as harmless as he can manage, even though 'apologetic' is a little beyond him. "I know, Starfire, but... it's worrying." There, that should --
She pauses, and looks up at him, wide-eyed and more earnest than Tim knows what to do with.
"It is worrying. She's so far away from us now, and she has always been someone who needs family more than most." She rests her hand on his shoulder in a way that probably shouldn't be making him think... thoughts.
"I was more concerned about the danger Raven could --"
There's a stiff breeze that rocks them both back, followed by an "EEEEEE!"
Followed by Kon and Cassie flying at top speed over their heads.
Tim looks down. "Er... most of the plants seem to be all right." They do, if yellow and bulbous and... strange is 'all right.'
Kory scowls. Attractively. "Those are the weeds."
Tim makes his exit.
The computer room is, at least, familiar for no particularly ominous reason. The equipment is brand new and almost as good as what he's used to in the Cave, if with rather more places for... input.
This is Cyborg's place, but he'd made it clear that they were all welcome to use it. Their schedule for the weekend is up on the largest monitor, pointedly so, and Tim makes note. The high point seems to be the Sunday brunch they're all to attend with the San Francisco City Council. Dress uniforms where available.
That should be... interesting.
If only to see whether Kon decided to put his earring back in for it, and if Kory decided to wear... clothes. Tim heads for the files, not so much hacking as seeing where hacking would -- if it proved necessary-- have to be done.
There are surprisingly few files that are actively locked down, but he's willing to admit that the people he's used to are rather more security-minded than most. One of the experiments/lessons he'd done with Oracle had ended up with him successfully downloading her grocery list into his remote.
Which... while the number of chocolate products was telling in and of itself, is hardly the sort of thing most people feel the need to tuck beyond quite that many firewalls.
Tim reads for subtext, and is not at all surprised that the most potentially secret-intensive reports involve Raven. He wonders how much he can get out of Dick. Probably more if Tim is the one to make contact than otherwise. Dick can be... effusive when people make friendly gestures.
Even when he knows the person in question is probably being manipulative. Tim frowns to himself and mentally pencils it in for Tuesday night, assuming nothing too exciting is going on in Gotham.
Cyborg's walk is distinctive. He moves as lightly as any trained fighter, but every footfall clanks, just the same.
Tim wonders if the man ever just wants the world to be carpeted. "Cyborg."
"Robin." Cyborg doesn't lean over him so much as settle a few feet behind. Tim keeps reading. "Looking for anything in particular?"
"Just catching up. Your system is organized in a very intuitive way."
Cyborg laughs, and there's a series of soft clanks that tells Tim the man is shifting position even more than what he can feel.
Carpeting the universe would probably be just the first step, come to think about it.
"I think that's the most complimentary thing I've ever heard you say, kid."
"Yes, but I think that makes it more meaningful," he says, before he can think about it, and Cyborg laughs again and claps him -- painfully -- on the shoulder.
"Good to know you do have a sense of humor."
It's incredibly tempting to protest that. It's not as though he hasn't related to all sorts of non-Bat people over the years. Generally successfully, even. Which just begs the question of why it's important, and everything that means, but there's a green dolphin tumbling and flopping its way into the room, screeing greetings at both of them and slapping at Bart with its fins.
The conservation of mass issue has long since been filed away with Superman's cold breath and the nature of Lantern rings as things that defy rationality.
("Best not to think about it too deeply.")
Tim really does understand Batman's antipathy toward having metahumans and aliens at work in Gotham, though Batman, perhaps, tends to take it a bit further than strictly necessary.
Bart escapes, and Beast Boy hugs Cyborg. With his fins.
Tim leaves them to it.
It's a casual weekend at the Tower, which means the meeting, such as it is, takes place in the den. Beast Boy is crouching on a stool from the emphatically dry bar, eating an apple. There's nothing particularly non-human about either form or position, but the usual sense of potential remains.
It's the sort of thing that makes Tim wonder what it's like to work with the Manhunter. Kon's on one of the couches, doing an excessively poor job of not looking painfully bored, while Cassie leans back against Kon's arm and strokes the loop of the lasso on her hip. It has become surprisingly difficult to read her.
Tim makes a mental note to check Batman's files about Wonder Woman's lasso, in case there's anything in particular he should know.
Cyborg stands at something like parade-rest behind Beast Boy, tossing another apple from hand to hand while Kory tells them far too much about brunch and far too little about anything else.
Kory is on the loveseat, and appears to be actually focused on what she's saying -- though her right hand periodically creeps back to Bart's head.
The resulting thumping and vibration doesn't seem to faze any of them, anymore. An interesting paper could be written on the necessary adaptability of the successful superhero, but, in the end, a large amount of effort would have to be used to steer the subject matter away from the depressing, if not outright disturbing.
It's the sort of thing Tim has filed away for later, for after. When he doesn't have to look at these people anymore, and wonder where each of them have their lines. The points at which adaptability ceases to be an option.
The question of which of them will break first.
He frowns to himself and gets a little more comfortable on his hassock. It won't, he thinks, be this weekend.
The comfort/annoyance of the Tower being settled in on itself and quiet by one in the morning is, actually, another point of familiarity. Everything is powered down and quiet, and it isn't all that different from nights at Brentwood.
It's cleaner here than the dorms ever were, and even somewhat prettier in that quiet-technologicalmarvel way, but the feeling is the same. These are all daylight people, and he doesn't have to walk the halls to know that pretty much all of them are either asleep or on their way there.
There's a faint resonance to it, and Tim pauses outside of Kon's room to think about it. It's... a little like the first real snowfall, when even the rumble of snowplows and general, constant level of Gotham noise can't do anything against the visceral impression of silence, if not, necessarily, peace.
Kon's voice is muffled with sleep, and it's tempting to just remain still until he rolls over and forgets about it, but... "You're getting better at that," he says, pushing open Kon's door a bit more.
Kon snorts and rubs a hand over his face. "Yeah, watch me not think about how used I'm getting to how much of a creepy little freak you are."
"Right." Kon props himself on his elbows. "What's up? What disturbing new fact did you learn while the rest of us were goofing off?"
"Nothing in particular," he says, and checks Kon's room. His 'uniform' is crumpled on the floor, and there's a glass on the desk that probably had soda in it. He wonders when personal effects will start creeping in, here. Kon doesn't have much, doesn't hold on to much, but still. Maybe in another month.
"Mmph. That just means next weekend you'll tell us about how Cassie's giving birth to the antichrist or something."
Tim smirks at him. "Could be you."
Kon tosses a balled-up sock at his head. It's a bad enough throw that Tim barely has to duck.
"Asshole. I'm too tired to chase you around the island, man. I think the Bart-hunting probably logged me a few dozen extra miles at high speed."
"Maybe we should make it a part of training."
Kon smiles and lies back down, one arm thrown over his eyes. "His head does feel surprisingly good."
"So I gathered."
"Mm. Soothing, kind of. I mean, he looks weird with his hair that short, but... yeah. Soothing."
Tim snorts. "You have a dog."
"Yeah, but I feel better about myself when it's Bart humping my leg."
Kon snickers and moves his arm again. "Kidding, man."
Tim looks at him.
And, really, Bart's room in the Tower is on his way, and there's a light on, and the sound of flipping pages. The door is cracked open further than even Kon's, too, and Bart is on the floor, surrounded by books.
"What's the subject?"
Bart jumps and grins at him. "Hey, Tim! I'm reading about physical contact."
Makes sense. Tim picks up one of the discards and checks. "I thought you'd already read through this library?"
"Hunh? Oh, yeah, I did, but I really only skimmed the psychology stuff the first time around. I mean... there's so much there, and it wouldn't be so bad if they all at least vaguely agreed with each other, but they don't. Sometimes... I mean, it's easier when there's at least a foundation for everyone to work with."
"I tend to look at psychology the same way I look at religion: a lot of interesting concepts, but it's more important to make your own conclusions than focus on just one school of thought."
Bart looks at him for a long moment, and it's the sort of calm, open stare that tends to serve as an effective reminder of why he doesn't, actually, make too many personal statements.
Tim thinks about backtracking, about the best way to backtrack with a Bart who has at least a superficial knowledge of everything he does, but Bart just blinks and picks up another book. Tim breathes a little easier.
"Well, yeah, I mean..." Bart frowns and taps <u>Modern Man in Search of a Soul</u> against his chin a few dozen times. "That's the point? I'm really starting to get why all of you get so weird about the fact that I'm four sometimes. I don't think I'm ready to make my own conclusions about any of this stuff. Or maybe it's just that I don't think I should be."
"You know, if you keep saying things like that, people will take you seriously."
Bart's eyes are only strange in terms of their color, as opposed to Kory's. Except for when they gleam like this.
It's only the second time Tim has seen it, but it feels like a 'Kid Flash' look. What he'll always think of as a 'Kid Flash' look, perhaps in the same disturbingly appropriate/inappropriate way that Kon says he's being too Robin-ish, when he's really only being... himself.
"I can live with that," Bart says, and his eyes really do look huge with his hair this short.
A particularly interesting Halloween decoration, and even now Bart is rarely still enough so that the effect can be... appreciated.
He blinks himself back into something like himself and gestures at Bart's hair. "Are you going to keep it that short?"
"What? Oh, no, I don't think so. All the petting is nice, but I didn't get anything done today."
Tim grins. "I think the others will get used to it, eventually."
"You're probably right. Hey, have you read these experiments they did with monkeys?" Bart rummages through one of the tottering piles and shoves a book at him.
And really, he was going to suggest Bart stick with the behaviorists for the time being, but, now that he thinks about it... "Pretty disturbing."
"Well, yeah! I mean, those poor monkeys! With the wire cages and towels and dude, that's just messed up."
"True, but I think..." Tim frowns to himself and tries to figure out how to say it. There's nothing particularly deep about the concept he wants to get across, but, again, he'd had a whole rhythm to the way he did and didn't speak to Young Justice. It still works with Kon, even with the increased flexibility of him knowing so much about him, now. But Bart...
Is looking at him with open curiosity, pajama shirt sliding off one shoulder.
"Well, look at it this way: a lot of people understand now how important physical contact is. No one can ever deny it anymore, no matter how much they might want to."
"So, yeah, more kids get hugged and -- wait. Who would want to? I mean, touching is good."
And maybe it was a bit deep and personal. Tim winces to himself. "Well..."
"I mean, wow, suddenly all of you Bat-people make SO MUCH SENSE. You totally never hug, do you?"
"God, how could you? All that body armor and those booby traps on your suit and -- you're monkeys! You're all wire cage monkeys and you KNOW IT!"
"I wouldn't go that far." He gets hugged all the time. At least once a week, whenever he lets Dana catch him, and then there's his father --
"Oh my God!" And Bart's up and moving, pacing in that Bart-way that sends even more books tumbling, makes the curtains flap, and makes the sheets on the bed start flying.
"I think I can count the number of times you touched us in Young Justice when we weren't training! On one hand!"
"There was rough-housing!"
"You totally PLANNED that. We knew you planned that. Cassie and Kon and I had a pool and everything."
Bart vibrates to a stop in front of Tim and stares down at him. "We had a pool. 'Is this the week Robin has designated for official playing?' Dude, you could be obvious sometimes."
Tim winces. "Well, okay, it's complicated, and I didn't mean to..." He has no idea how to finish that sentence. "Look --"
Bart kneels in front of him and gives him a very, very serious look. "It's okay. I mean, it was funny, and weird, but it was just you, and none of us minded or anything. We just thought you were, you know, trying to be a normal kid instead of Robin, and doing it in a really Robin way."
Tim catches himself holding <u>The Interpretation of Dreams</u> in front of himself like a shield and forces himself to put it down. "I was, yes --"
"No! You weren't. You totally weren't. You weren't even thinking about yourself, and man, sometimes we thought you didn't even like us, but you did, you were just completely unable to touch us without scheduling it in and oh man, I need to read more --"
"Then I should go."
And there's a moment where Bart's staring at him with narrowed eyes, and Tim has just enough time to think 'evasive --' before Bart barrels into him and sends them both to the floor. There's a book digging into Tim's spine, and Bart is just on him, muscle and speedster-heat and... moving him?
"No, no, sit up. And back. Back further -- wait." There's a rush of air, and the books are stacked neatly under the windows and Bart is on him again, straddling his legs and -- hugging him.
"I think I'd have better luck getting a mannequin in the right position. Jesus, Tim."
"I... okay?" Tim wraps his arms around Bart's torso. He actually does know how to do this, and it's not his fault that Bart keeps moving and --
"Could you be any stiffer?"
He supposes he should be happy Bart hadn't read any disturbing scientific studies about dancing. Tim sighs internally. "Okay, tell me what to do."
Bart leans back, crossing his arms and frowning. Though not, particularly, at Tim.
He probably should've just done a perimeter sweep and left it at that. Escape, while still possible at this point, would only lead to him spending the night somewhere dark, small, and uncomfortable.
Bart's no detective, but Tim has learned to respect speed and persistence. He leans back against Bart's bed and waits.
Not long. Bart's moving again, moving him again, this time focusing on his legs. Spreading his legs --
And settling himself between them, back snug against Tim's front.
"Um. More hugging now?"
Bart snickers. "I think that's the advanced course. No --" He grabs one of Tim's hands and yanks it up to his own head. "Pet me."
It probably makes sense in Bart's head. And, considering recent reading material, might even make sense in the real world. Which is a terrifying thought.
Tim pets him.
Bart moves when he does, but it isn't the thumping vibration he had for everyone else. It's more... restless.
"I'm going to assume I'm doing this wrong."
"No, I -- okay, yes." Bart stills and sighs. "I think it makes a difference that everyone else actually wanted to pet me."
"I didn't... it's not..." It's awkward, and Tim bites his lip and has no idea how to say any of that. Because he did, actually, want to see what Bart's head felt like, but now he's being tested on it and --
Bart twists until he can look at Tim over his shoulder. "You know, you don't have to."
The thing is? He's good at tests. "Give me a second."
Bart narrows his eyes at him again, but turns around.
And Tim peels the gloves off and focuses. Beast Boy had stroked in even, backward motions -- while in primate form, anyway -- while Cassie had focused on small circles.
"Oh, that's --"
Kon had seemed to settle his palm against the curve of Bart's skull, and that's... it's understandable.
Bart's hair doesn't quite tickle his palm, but it's still more... there's an oddly alive feel to it, more than it would be to just stroke an expensive bit of carpeting, or even a nice sweater.
When Tim strokes harder, feeling for Bart's scalp, the 'alive' feeling makes more sense. Speedster heat, yes, and the sense that it would feel very, very good to just touch Bart. His skin.
But he has an assignment. Tim cups Bart's head with both palms and just... rubs, with and against the grain.
But Bart doesn't finish. Just... presses up against Tim's palms and... vibrates.
Score one for the learning process. Tim smiles to himself and keeps stroking, massaging a little. That, at least, has as much to do with practice as it does to theory. He knows what feels good, and Bart can take just as much pressure as he can give.
Bart groans, and the vibration is stronger now, but Bart isn't wearing shoes, and there's no one in the room below this one, anyway. Or there shouldn't be. Tim slides his hands down on Bart's scalp, digging his thumbs into the back of his neck, and Bart bends his head and groans again.
Tim doesn't have to ask if it feels good, and, to be honest, doesn't especially trust his own voice. The bend makes every vibration hit in a very specific place, and he doesn't want to think about it.
The groaning is almost constant now, and he's not thinking about that, either. Mostly, actual, postverbal thought is focused on what sort of one-liner he can get away with about not being that much of a surrogate-raised monkey. There isn't a lot of post-verbal thought.
Tim massages his way back up over the curve of Bart's skull. And... it's a nice curve. Even and mathematically perfect, and though he doesn't especially look forward to the day when Bart puts on a cowl like Wally's, like Barry's had been, he can see that it would look fine.
"You have a nicely-shaped skull," he says, and Bart grabs Tim's thigh and squeezes, jerking hard and driving Tim back almost painfully against the bed before shuddering.
"Should I --" Stop, he was going to say, but Bart grabs one of his wrists and pulls it away from his head. And then just holds it. "Bart?"
"I didn't. Mean to do that."
Do what, a particularly idiotic part of his mind offers, but really, when Tim takes a deep breath, he can smell it. Bart just... whoa. "Did that happen when the others...?"
"Um, no," and Bart lets go and twists away and up, staggering for a step before blurring across the room and... into a pair of boxer shorts.
Bart isn't looking at him, and this would be one more reason why he has to be careful. Tim bites the inside of his lip hard and stands up, really extremely appreciative of the fact that his groin armor makes getting too happy exceedingly uncomfortable. Tim takes a breath.
"I'm not going to try to tell you not to be embarrassed --"
Bart snorts and scrubs a hand back through -- over his head. And shudders again.
"I mean..." Tim stands, and takes a cautious step forward. "It happens?"
"I was trying to do something, and I just... dammit --"
"Hey, I know, I mean, I get the point, okay? You think I need to be... less of a monkey."
The joke falls flat. Flatter when Bart actually looks at him, orange eyes catching the light from the lamp.
There's an odd temptation to go into more of a defensive posture, but Tim thinks he's done enough of that tonight. He steadies himself internally. "I think now I should go --"
"What did it feel like? To you."
Tim pauses. "It felt good. I really did get your point, Bart."
"So you're going to... hug Cassie now? Punch Kon on the arm? Other way around?"
It's a possibility. Certainly if he knows Bart is watching. He'll have to make clearer note of Bart's new attention span. "Maybe."
"What about me?"
He tries another smile. "Probably no petting." In public.
Bart nods slowly, and it is the Bart-is-computingthis -clearly look, but it also really isn't. Thinking about it will definitely be easier when he's elsewhere, except that Bart is still thinking too much.
Subtlety has absolutely nothing on superspeed, and Bart is blocking the -- finally closed -- door. "Bart, it's late."
"I'm just wondering about everything else you never bothered to tell us, or even show us."
"Jesus, Bart." That would take hours.
The calculating look fades off Bart's face into something more open. More... vulnerable. "I want to know if I can have this."
"I... think that would be a bad idea."
"That's not what I asked."
And Tim has spent some quality time mocking Kon and being amused by how much he's disconcerted by the new, improved Bart, but really, there was something to be said for a Bart who could be easily distracted. "It's still my answer."
"It doesn't work --"
"No. Just tell me, Tim. Were you turned on? Did you like it?"
"I liked it --"
"Answer the first question."
"We shouldn't do this."
"The other first question!"
"That's kind of --" Personal, though less so than Bart with one hand on his shoulder and the other cupping him through the tights.
"What the --"
And the armor. Which Tim doesn't have enough time to be grateful for before Bart reaches into his tights. There's no consolation in the fact that Tim isn't the one breathing raggedly -- yet -- and knowing a full dozen ways to get out of this position without causing undo damage to the other person is entirely unhelpful when he can't make himself move.
"Oh, Tim. Was it the vibrating? People like the vibrating --"
"Jesus --" There's nothing to catch himself on but the door, which means he winds up leaning over -- leaning into Bart while he... stroking isn't the word for it. If Bart actually moved his hand while vibrating it like that, the friction burns would be epic.
As it is, Tim has to try to lock his knees and hold on. Try harder when Bart starts licking his neck over the collar of his cape, at a normal pace at first, but then just fast, and Tim hears himself whimper and bites his lip. Wait, no, that's a bad idea.
"Bart. You have to -- don't -- oh God."
And that was apparently exactly as convincing as it sounded, because Bart pushes closer, pushes hard enough so that Tim can't reach the door anymore and has to brace himself on Bart. He can at least keep himself from feeling Bart up. He can... grab Bart's shoulders and squeeze them and push at the pajama top a little -- a little -- and listen to Bart make a weird little humming sound.
And then feel Bart humming because all of that vibration is on him, against him, and Tim can't stop his hips from jerking. He can barely keep his mouth closed, and gritting his teeth doesn't stop the sounds he's making from getting out at all.
"Oh, Tim," Bart says again, and uses his other hand to pull and push on Tim's head until he can get to his mouth.
The kiss is fast and messy and hard, and Tim makes it harder solely so all the moaning he's doing will be muffled by Bart's mouth.
Bart's eyes are wide open, and it isn't fair for someone to look that shocked and still be able to make Tim come this hard.
He manages to stay upright, but that has far, far more to do with all the weight he's putting on Bart than on anything else. Tim pulls out of the kiss, grits his teeth, and forces himself to stand.
And then gives up and stumbles over to the wall. It'll hold him.
"Wow," Bart says, and stares at his hand. His sticky hand.
Tim pinches the bridge of his nose and very thoroughly doesn't watch Bart wiping his come off on the pajamas. Jesus fucking Christ, he doesn't say.
"Are you freaking out?"
Tim stares at Bart.
Bart stares back. "Okay, are you freaking out a lot. Because, you know, I know you don't have the advantage of subjective time, but I didn't find it that hard to cope with my apparent bisexuality."
"You..." He isn't going to ask. "I'm not... freaking out about that."
Bart frowns. "Is it the wire cage monkey thing?"
"I'm not a wire cage monkey!"
And Bart... raises an eyebrow at him. "No, hunh?"
The metaphorical alarms in Tim's head sound a lot like the ones at Arkham. "... no."
"Then I think this is where we cuddle." Bart spreads his arms and smiles.
Tim does not flinch. Not sighing aloud is just too much effort, though. "Fine. I'm a monkey."
Bart snickers. Really a lot.
Tim considers the tranquilizer darts in his belt.
Bart keeps snickering.
"No, dude, you totally have to say that again."
And Bart stands up straight and glares right back. "My name is Robin. And I am a monkey."
This has to count as justifiable homicide.
"Aw, c'mon, smile. It's gotta be on your schedule for this weekend somewhere."
"I was saving it for Sunday brunch."
Bart pauses. "Well, I guess making a joke counts." And grins at him.
Who was joking? "Bart --"
"Don't worry, man. Post-jerk-off cuddling is in the same advanced course as all that hugging you're not doing. You can leave now -- I have some more re-reading to do before I sleep."
Right. "Uh... good night?"
He's in the hallway and closing the door behind him when --
"Of course, having sex doesn't seem too challenging."
Tim closes the door and keeps walking. Really, this is another reason to quietly dread the weekends.
And he'll get right on that just as soon as he can dread the rest of it.
Tim shakes his head at himself and heads back to the control room and Cyborg's records. Maybe he'll find something disturbing that has nothing to do with his own life.
Please post a comment on this story.
Fandom: Other (Teen Titans)
Title: Dangerous to reason
Author: Te [email] [website]
Details: Standalone | NC-17 | *slash* | 32k | 03/01/04
Characters: Robin, Superboy, Starfire, Kid Flash, others
Pairings: Robin/Kid Flash
Summary: Tim has a day. Bart is involved.
[top of page]
|Home/QuickSearch + Random + Upload + Search + Contact + GO List|