Written for Redundantthinking for the 2012 DCU Fic Hunt.

Much thanks to Blackash for betaing.

"Red Robin? Red Robin, come in. Goddamit, Tim, why the fuck aren't you answering your comm?"

It'd been an hour. A fricking hour since Tim was supposed to pass along intel on the latest group of drug runners. In the entire time they'd worked together, the kid had been obnoxiously punctual. If he wasn't here… Jason sighed.

Time to make a house call.

With a muffled clang, Jason dropped onto the fire escape outside Tim's apartment. Rapping his knuckles on the window, he waited.

No response. He cupped his hands against the glass and peered in. "Yo! You in there, Babybird?"

The bedroom was dark, but a faint light shone from the hallway. Cursing, he started working on disarming the nastiest parts of Tim's security system. Dammit, Tim, when you agree to give me intel, you don't fucking turn off your comm. You better be bleeding out on your couch. Or kidnapped by fucking psychos. Or trapped in the sewers. Or eaten by- the system gave a final surge, strongly zapping Jason on the hand, before shutting down-SHIT shit shit god motherfucking dammit you had better be in some serious pain, Babybird.

Gun heavy in his hand, Jason eased the window up and slipped inside. The muffled sounds of a TV welcomed him as he surveyed the bedroom. There were no signs of a struggle. The bed was made, the furniture was in order, the floor was spotless. Nothing seemed out of place except for a hammer and a mess of wires and plastic on Tim's bedroom desk. The shattered remains of a comm unit.

Least it looks like Tim did this himself. Great. 'Cause that raises so many fun questions. Ten bucks says the demon brat's involved.

A burst of cheesy laughter from a sitcom laugh track broke Jason's train of thought. Edging towards the doorway, he snuck out into the hall. The glow from the TV flashed and flickered, casting eerie shadows as he crept towards the living room.

And there was Tim, hunched over his laptop on the couch, files sprawled around him. Some terrible show blared in the background, drowning out the soft clatter of keys as he typed. Perfectly normal. Perfectly safe. Perfectly incommunicado.

Slamming his gun back into his holster, Jason stormed forward. "What the fuck, Replacement?"

Tim didn't look up. "Jason. So nice to see you."

"We had a meeting. Why didn't you answer your damn comm?"

"It's broken."

Jason scoffed. "Yeah, tends to happen when you take a hammer to it." He slid over the armrest and plopped onto the sofa beside Tim, crumpling files beneath him. "What gives?"

Tim grabbed one of the folders beside him and dropped it in Jason's lap, eyes never leaving the screen in front of him. "Here. Just take the intel and go."

Jason's eyes narrowed. Oh, Hell no.

Jason leaned forward, setting the folder on the coffee table and snatching up the remote. "Yeah, not happening." Tim's head snapped up, wide eyes staring him. "I did not fucking break in here after waiting a goddamn hour for you to respond just so you could fucking brush me off." He kicked his feet up on the table. "Like Hell I'm leaving."

Tim watched him, stunned, but quickly recovered, his face shuttering into apathy. "Fine. Just don't bother me." He turned back to his work, pausing to kick Jason's legs off the coffee table. "And keep your boots off the furniture."

Jason smirked. "Yes." Thunk. "Sir." Thunk. Flakes of dirt settled on the table and folder around where he had set his feet again.

Tim glared at the mud caked shoes resting on his clean furniture and smearing his papers. Jason could practically hear Tim's teeth grinding. He waited for Tim to object, to do something, anything, about it.

But Tim didn't. He just turned back to his laptop and began typing again.

Jason's eyes narrowed. Fine. Two can play at that game. Remote in hand, he began to scroll through the channels.

Stupid sitcom. Stupid sitcom. REALLY stupid sitcom. Sleazy talk show. Wrestling. More wrestling. Soap. Soap. Soap. Oh wow, another soap. Frickin' soap. What kinda cable you get, Tim? Ugh, infomercials. Pass, pass, pass, pa- no way that's not photoshopped. Pass.

Jason paused as he felt a slight pull. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tim fruitlessly trying to tug one of the papers from underneath Jason. Tim cast the pages a dirty look, before returning to his typing.

"Need something?"

"I'm good."

"You sure?"

Tim didn't respond and continued working.

Rolling his eyes, Jason turned back to the TV and began flicking through the channels again.

Finally, some movies. No. No. No. Fuck no. No. Eh, not feelin' it. No. All right, Humans Vs Aliens 4. Best one in the series. Awesome, right at the start, too. Papers crinkled as he fully relaxed, settling in for the next couple of hours.

Half an hour later the movie was just getting to the good stuff. Jason remembered the first time he saw it. He had stayed up late waiting for his mom to get off work and had stumbled on to it. Huddled under a blanket, he'd watched, terrified, as the woman on the screen edged through the rooms, the sound of her breathing the only thing you could hear. And he just knew the alien was going to come out and eat her, but he didn't know where and all of a sudden there was yelling and screaming and the alien had popped out of nowhere and it'd scared the crap out of him.

Come to think of it…

Jason glanced at Tim. Tim, who was so absorbed in his work and oblivious to the rest of the world.

This was too perfect.

Jason turned the volume up and up and up until it was almost maxed out and-

"HOLY-" Tim jerked violently, sending his computer careening off his lap. He lunged forward, barely saving his laptop from crashing to the floor.

Jason laughed so hard he couldn't breathe, clutching the arm of the sofa. The sound of the alien feasting on the dying woman was so loud he couldn't even hear himself, but it made Tim's glare even more hilarious.

Huffing, Tim made to get up, but Jason reached out and snagged the back of his shirt, pulling him back onto the couch.

He kept his hold on Tim's shirt as he turned the volume back down. "Oh, c'mon, don't be like that, Babybird."

Tim shot him a nasty look. "I'll be however I want, now let me up."

Still holding onto Tim with one hand, Jason snaked his other arm over, closing the lid to Tim's laptop. "No can do. Work time's officially over." He tossed the computer to a nearby armchair. "And you've seen this movie, right?"

"What? No-"

"Aw man, you need to see it. The fight scenes are movie shit, but the explosions are good and you'd like the plot twists."

Tim halfheartedly tugged at his shirt and sighed. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

Jason pulled him back by his shirt until Tim was slouching, nestled into Jason's side. "Nope."

The movie was almost over when Tim spoke up.

"Hey, Jason?"

"Mm?" Jason raised his head from where it'd tipped, blinking his eyes groggily.

"Was I…was I at least a good replacement? I mean-"

"I know what you mean." Jason rubbed his eyes. Great. Now he wants to talk. "Little demon giving you trouble?"

Tim tensed, before relaxing a bit and shrugging. "No worse than usual."

Jason shifted to look down at him. "So what was different this time?"

Tim stared at the TV vacantly, lips twitching with the semblance of a smile. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all."

Pursing his lips, Jason lets his arm drape on Tim a little heavier and pulled him closer. Tim stiffened before rolling his shoulders and squirming, trying to put more space between them.

Keeping a loose yet firm hold on Tim, Jason turned back to the TV. I can wait you out, Tim.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Tim started to relax, the tension bleeding out of his body as he gradually leaned into Jason's hold. With a sigh Tim finally slumped against him, his head coming to rest on Jason's shoulder.

Squeezing Tim's shoulder, Jason turned his attention back to the TV. Despite the hoard of alien invaders slaughtering the Earth, Jason couldn't help smiling.

The sound of gunfire startled Jason awake. His pulse thrummed. His muscles tensed. His eyes flicked over the room. Searching. Scanning for the glint of a barrel. Where-? Bullets should be hissing by him. Dead. He's dead. Should be dead. Where are they? Where is…where is he-

Beside him Tim makes a small noise, his head rocking on Jason's shoulder, fingers twitching and grasping at Jason's shirt. And Jason remembers. Tim's apartment. Right. Guns are on TV.

He sighed, his adrenaline rush crashing, and rolled his head, grimacing as he did. Falling asleep like that did not do my neck any favors. He glanced at the clock. Okay, time to head out. I need bed.

He snatched up the remote and turned off the TV, sending the room into a ringing silence. After the constant light and noise of the past few hours, the apartment felt so much larger. So much emptier.

He stared down at Tim, trying to figure out how to extricate himself. The kid had fallen asleep about an hour ago, his head pillowed on Jason's shoulder. Jason didn't know when, but at some point the kid had curled towards him and loosely grabbed hold of his shirt.

Jason cautiously raised his arm from around Tim and braced it on the sleeping boy's shoulder to keep Tim from tipping as Jason stood. Or at least he tried to.

Fuck.

As Jason tried to ease away, Tim tightened his grasp. Hunching awkwardly, Jason struggled to keep Tim propped up as he slowly slipped his free hand down to try and get his shirt loose.

Fuck it all to Hell. Never easy with you, is it? Jason scowled as he continued to struggle with Tim's death grip on his shirt. He froze and stared down at Tim with wide eyes. Did Tim just…?

Tim grimaced and tugged at the shirt. Another low whine made its way out of Tim's throat, and his frown deepened. He strained against the hand on his shoulder, his head rolling and nodding, as if searching for his lost headrest.

Hanging his head, Jason sighed. Damn it all, Babybird. I need to go, stop making my feel like a fucking monster. Tim made yet another keening noise. Fuck, fuck, fuck, goddammit. Fine. FINE. I'll stay. Just stop your damn whining.

As soon as Jason sat back down, Tim latched on to him, nuzzling into his shoulder with a content smile. Jason scowled down at Tim, but didn't move to stop him.

First things first. I am not sleeping sitting up. Jason hooked his leg under Tim's legs, slowly shifting them up onto the couch. He twisted as he eased both of them down so they were lying side by side.

And ended up almost toppling off the couch.

Need to get a bigger fucking couch, Babybird. Jason debated what to do, a hand and a foot on the floor the only thing keeping him from sliding off the cushions. Jason glanced at Tim out of the corner of his eye.

Jason huffed. Damn your place is drafty, Tim. If you're going to make me stay here, the least you can do is give me a blanket. With that he started to shift them, awkwardly struggling to move Tim with one arm, his other hand planted on the floor and keeping him half on the couch.

He gradually wriggled further and further onto the couch, slowly rolling Tim up against the back cushions. Once Jason was able to lift his hand off the floor, he started pulling Tim on to himself.

Damn, Babybird, this is too easy. You need to eat more. With one final hoist, Tim's entire body was lying on Jason.

He froze as Tim groaned. The kid began to lift his head off Jason's chest and squinted up at Jason with bleary eyes.

"Mmmm, -as'n?"

Jason brought his hand up, carding it through Tim's hair. "Shhhh, go back to sleep. Just go back to sleep."

"Mmmm." And with a sleepy little sigh, Tim was out again.

Jason stilled, fingers threaded in Tim's hair. What the fuck am I doing? I should…I should… But Jason's eyes were drooping, and with each passing moment his thoughts fluttered further and further away. Tim was a warm weight on his chest, and Jason sleepily continued stroking Tim's hair. Breaths syncing with Tim's heavy, even ones, Jason slowly drifted off.