cowledcrusade:

a long night of patrol–particularly eventful and straining without his robin, much to the joker’s chagrin–leaves bruce worn and aching all over. the stiffness in his neck–smarting suspiciously–is pretty questionable, and the festering wound accurately jabbed between armor plates leaves him a little hunched over. there’s blood on his fingers by the time he drives back to the cave, and the work he does on himself is quick and fine. alfred takes over shortly after he gets the worst of it stitched up. the butler orders him to bed with a hot pad on the back of his neck, though bruce decides to do a little research before retiring for the evening. 

the billionaire, clad in comfortable slacks and no shirt, steps behind his robin–nearly hovers–and watches him dig in the cast he’d specifically been told not to pick at. carefully quiet, he crosses his arms (quickly regrets it, at the sharp prickling pain of stitches in his belly) and clears his throat. 

‘–no excuses, tim.’ bruce says gruffly, stepping beside him to look over the sleek line of monitors, taking a seat with a little strain in the spare chair. ‘stop touching it and ignore it. you’re only going to make it worse, and you’ll have to keep the cast on longer as a result. what have you been doing down here all evening?’

“ slavedriver. “ tim says groaning as he obediently slides the chopstick out– his skin still tickling with the need to itch and scratch until he gets some sense of satisfaction or relief. but none is forthcoming. tim is never breaking his arm again, this is like low grade torture. all he knows is that the next time he goes to titans tower, he is taking up raven on her offer to heal it up quickly for him.

besides, nights like this just prove that bruce needs him out there. even if he doesn’t say so, tim can see it in the slight stiffness to his movements as he sits, nothing like bruce’s usual grace and easy economy of movement. tim winces slightly, in sympathy or in guilt– he’s honestly not sure. probably both. 

“ i’m really sorry, though. “ tim hates being out of commission, he feels useless. he wants to be helpful, doesn’t like just sitting around and waiting.robin is his job, willingly taken & his responsibility. one he takes seriously. 

     “ psh, easy for you to say. mr. i’ve trained my body to obey me down to the cellular level by sheer force of will. “ it’s a joke but– it also sounds like the sort of thing that bruce has managed. always so– perfectly in control.

he shrugs at the question and tries to force himself to relax back into the chair, letting it tip back a little, his slippered feet gently brushing the floor. he wants to lie by omission say that it’s nothing important. but instead he looks at bruce and admits quietly-

        “ looking up how we might make sure kon doesn’t have any other– trigger words floating around his head. also contemplating how i’m going to get him to talk to me about this like a rational adult. but the internet & database don’t have much to say on that second part. “ he tucks his cast up close to his chest. he doesn’t know if bruce will have any wisdom on the matter, or if he’s interested in soothing some of tim’s worries.