cowledcrusade:

“—Tim, don’t.” He’s not short with Tim—as easy as it is to forget, Tim’s human, infallible. The evidence of his own flaws can be seen in all the ugly marks on his skin, left almost as a brand for him to remember for the rest of his life. Stumbling is a learning lesson, sometimes painful, and Tim will get up from it. However, tough love is what he’s most familiar with—what works best—so he dishes it out in kind. “What’s done is done. Learn from it. My force of will has all been learned through experiences like yours.”

Busying himself on the other end of the long line of monitors that make up the Batcomputer, he pulls up a file on one of the Maroni underbosses, busies himself with it. A moment of silence follows Tim’s statement, and he pulls his gaze from the screen to look back at him. Sage advice is easy if it’s regarding a battlefield or the killing fields of Gotham, but it’s not quite so when it’s something like this. Emotions. “You’ll be fine. Be straightforward—that’s my advice.”

“don’t what?” tim asks, a little crinkle around his eyes. of course he feels a little guilty, like he’s shirking his duty. tim didn’t like to leave bruce alone, not that bruce couldn’t handle himself– he certainly could, in fact he’d often wondered if bruce even needed him anymore. certainly didn’t emotionally, not like he’d needed him at first, when he’d been in a self-destructive brood spiral. it’s not like that anymore. but if bruce doesn’t tell him to go– tim’s not going to leave.

“ don’t feel guilty that i never planned for this contingency? that i let myself be blinded to a potential threat because it happened to be in the form of my best friend? “ he sighed, slow and weighted.

“–i’m not like, crying inconsolably into my cornflakes or anything but, of course i feel bad. i let myself down and now because of it you’re out there alone without backup, my arm got shattered, cassie has lost her confidence and kon’s back to thinking he’s some kind of frankenstein’s monster. and that’s on me. “

 alright, maybe not totally on him. logically he knows he can’t plan for everything, can’t support the weight of everything wrong in the world on his shoulders. but it’s not like he’s the only one in the family who thinks they have to be responsible for everyone in their little bubble.

tim doesn’t have much left to say after that, didn’t meant to say all that in the first place but the proverbial cat is way out of the bag and he’s only going to look stupid if he tries to shove it back in. 

“yeah, learning experience. got it. now– is there anything you’re working on i can help with? i do still have at least one hand i can lend.” he reminds him, voice small and hopeful. anything to feel a little bit of use can only be good for him at this point.

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.

@cowledcrusade

it doesn’t hurt really, not anymore. it’s just in the way. giant bulky cast on his arm throws off the sense of balance he’s worked so hard towards. also it ITCHES. ( that’s actually the worst part.) he’s not supposed to itch inside the cast though, because stitches, because surgery. still bruce isn’t a r o u n d to see it, out on patrol which is probably the only reason tim hasn’t been dragged away from his research on the batcomputer already. ( both alfred & bruce have kicked up their maternal instincts since he broke his arm. especially impressive on alfred’s part actually. )

so he snatches one of the chopsticks from his sushi dinner and slides it inside the cast, even if it does smell a little like his spicy tuna roll. sacrifices must be made because the prickle of his skin is starting to drive him nuts. tim’s tongue is stuck between his teeth as he shifts the dull point, almost right where he needs it.

so of course, that’s about the time bruce clears his throat behind him and tim nearly breaks off the end of the chopstick inside his cast when he jumps. 

“ is it truly necessary to give me a heartattack? honestly B, i know i’m not supposed to scratch but i’m literally dying over here ! “ no, tim isn’t being an overly dramatic teeanger, why do you ask?