It's enough to push Bruce forward. To close up the space like he wants so he can reach for Tim, skate his fingers over his neck where he can feel his heartbeat. Then higher. To the back of his neck, so he can run his thumb over the swell of Tim's cheek. Over the sharp line of his jaw. He just wants to feel him before Tim pushes him away again.
Bruce's hand must feel so heavy there.
"I wanted to take care of you, Tim. That's all I ever wanted." He makes it sound so benign, the way he says it. Quiet, low and deep. Like the words are being pulled from a warm place. In some ways they are. "You've been pushing me away. I just wanted to be close to you.
The touch--- It isn't fair. It makes Tim second guess things. It wasn't
like he didn't know how Bruce felt before all this, and it wasn't like he'd
never had daydreams about it. Maybe this was just inevitable in some way.
But it's not. It wasn't. Bruce could have stopped things well before they
started. Could have cared for Tim in any number of more paternal ways.
And he was using Tim's own conflicted feelings against him right now. Using
his touch on Tim's starved skin to light him up, and it was---
They were on a collision course. Ever since that first furtive glance. After Bruce let that first dark thought linger. It was inevitable, unavoidable. Because for however long Bruce could keep it buried, only gave whatever this thing was between them time to fester. To grow into something dangerous and maybe a little out of control. Bruce could reign it in, but at this point? He didn't want to.
Tim doesn't push him away, so Bruce steps in closer, swallowing the rest of the space between them into nothing. He could kiss Tim if he wanted. "I just want you to let me in. Let me take care of you."
Tim hates this. Hates the tone of his voice, how pitched it is, how Bruce will know exactly what it means. Why his breath is stilted and his pulse is racing and there's heat pulsing through him. How Bruce will see right through him.
"I'm not--- I'm my own person now. You can't just show up and expect me to let you in, when we both know this is about control. You not liking when I step too far from your gaze."
Tim's heart races under Bruce's palm and there's a deep sense of triumph that doesn't reach the restrained, almost neutral lines of Bruce's expression. Tim's breath hitches too and he wants to lean in for that kiss. Wants to steal all of the air out of Tim's lungs.
Wants to make it so Tim couldn't breathe without him.
"You are, Tim. I never said you weren't. That you couldn't be. But you won't talk to me. So can you blame me for being concerned?" He says, voice deliberate with each word.
"When I see you going into Ivy's without back up? Or when you're drinking yourself sick in a night club." He shakes his head just once, barely.
"How should I react? Pretend like it didn't happen?"
"I can handle myself," he says, swallowing down the urge to lean into Bruce's knowing, familiar, protective touch. A physical swallow too, feeling Bruce's massive hand at his throat, only further reminding him of the last time that hand had been there. How big it had felt. Suffocating, but in a way that had him hard and hot for it. "That thing with Ivy-- that was an anomaly. You know how prepared I always am, you trained me, I don't go in without any thought. And I don't--"
A pause. Did Bruce know about him at the clubs? Or was he just testing him? Poking until he found something to pry into? Fuck. No. He knew, didn't he? Of course he did. Bruce knew everything.
"The more you stalk me, the less I want to be around you, you know. If you care about me, you'll let me stray further than your arm's reach."
Was it stalking? Bruce doesn't like the word. It's too predatory. Too personal. But if anyone else were to do what he'd been doing - watching Tim's place, noting the pattern of lights flicking on and off. Logging his comings and goings, like a puzzle he was trying to solve - Bruce might have called it just that.
He knew Tim's routine well enough that he could guess where he'd be at any given hour and typically be correct. Not always. But usually.
But Bruce wouldn't call it stalking. He did not sit in the cave and monitor all of the ways he had set up to track him. It's vigilance. A way to ensure Tim is safe without interfering. His hand tightens, enough to be noticeable.
"Then how do you know about me drinking myself stupid at the bars and
clubs, Bruce? Nobody knows about that. Not even my friends." Especially not
his friends. Kon probably knew, or would if he paid attention, but that was
only because he had super senses. Dick didn't know. Bernard didn't know.
Barbara didn't know. Nobody but Bruce.
He swallowed around the tightened hold, testing it, staying still and
practically daring Bruce to strangle him right there in the middle of his
office at lunchtime. God, after what Bruce did, that shouldn't be so hot.
"I know how you operate. I know you have a tracker on me. You know my
movements too, don't you? That's why you were so close to Ivy's." He sets
his jaw, tight and stern. "Maybe you let me go in there alone so she'd drug
me."
It feels like a slap in the face. All of that time and energy poured into keeping Tim safe from his own bad decisions thrown into his face. The ungratefulness stings. It makes Bruce angry. So does Tim's defiance and if Bruce were anyone else, maybe he would have strangled Tim in the middle of his office at lunchtime.
But Bruce isn't anyone else. He is restrained layers of self-control. He is brutal self-discipline. So he doesn't strangle him. Or raise his voice, even if yelling might have made him feel better. Just breathes in once, sharp and slow. Then exhales. Looks away for a moment as if he's trying to collect himself. Maybe shove that fury back down where it belongs.
"You don't have to like how I did it. But don't you dare accuse me of doing it to hurt you.
"Right. Because you'd never hurt me?" Tim remains still, another dare to
see if Bruce would break. And then, Tim's the one who does, swatting
Bruce's hand from him and looking down at his shoes. "I need some space. I
need you to keep your distance. Can you do that or not?"
Bruce could see it coming, Tim slapping his hand away. Could have countered it easily. Could have caught him by the wrist and held him until he gave in. But he simply let's it fall by his side, face grim, unreadable except for the thin thread of resignation in his eyes. "If that's what you want, Tim."
That did not mean Bruce would comply. Not when it wasn't what Tim needed. Bruce knows what Tim needs. He knows everything. Tim would think the worst of him anyway. Would take all of that care and concern and twist it into something ugly. If Tim needed his space, Bruce would let him think he had it. And be ready to take him back when Tim realizes there's no one out there who'd satisfy him. Not like Bruce can.
"So much for lunch," Tim grumbles, shoulders sinking and somehow coming
away from the whole altercation feeling like he was in the wrong.
That was the thing with Bruce though; he was an expert in many things, and
manipulation was key among them. If he wanted Tim feeling guilty, then
that's how Tim would feel. It's inevitable---and really annoying to boot.
Still, he hesitates, just a moment longer.
"While I'm here, can you just assure me you wiped all surveillance of that
night?" The last thing they needed was anyone getting a hold of CCTV
footage of Batman and his former Robin fucking on a rooftop.
Bruce stops mid-stride back to his desk then turns to look at Tim, his sagging shoulders. Part of him thinks it'd be best to just send Tim on his way. Let him think whatever he wants about any surveillance footage that may exist of them.
"If you're hungry, we can have lunch. I just thought you wanted space."
Emphasis on space, to remind Tim this is what he asked for. Distance from him and from all of the changes in their relationship.
"That's---not the point, Bruce." Tim's face flushes a little. The way Bruce
says it makes it sound like a home movie he's going to have on repeat in
private or something, hoarding the footage from the world. It's not exactly
making Tim feel any better about the whole thing, knowing there's any kind
of footage of that night. Of how desperate he looked. How he acted. "It
should be destroyed."
He says flatly, like he's stating a fact. Like he's commenting on the weather or asking for the score from the game last night. Impersonal. Like it's not rotting something vital inside of him.
"No one will see it, Tim. Because it doesn't exist."
"....Right." Tim doesn't trust him, not on this front, not when he's certainly seen Bruce hold onto worse things that he considered important to The Cause without considering its importance to the actual person it depicted. Usually, Tim could let it slide, since it had nothing to do with him, and it was always for the greater good, but this...
If Bruce had even a second of it... It was like keeping a piece of Tim hostage.
"I trust you, Bruce," he adds, quietly. "Thank you." And then he's leaving, because he does want space, doesn't he? He demanded it. So why does he feel so incredibly hollow without Bruce?
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theknightshift) wrote2025-07-10 09:31 pm
no subject
Bruce's hand must feel so heavy there.
"I wanted to take care of you, Tim. That's all I ever wanted." He makes it sound so benign, the way he says it. Quiet, low and deep. Like the words are being pulled from a warm place. In some ways they are. "You've been pushing me away. I just wanted to be close to you.
no subject
The touch--- It isn't fair. It makes Tim second guess things. It wasn't like he didn't know how Bruce felt before all this, and it wasn't like he'd never had daydreams about it. Maybe this was just inevitable in some way. But it's not. It wasn't. Bruce could have stopped things well before they started. Could have cared for Tim in any number of more paternal ways.
And he was using Tim's own conflicted feelings against him right now. Using his touch on Tim's starved skin to light him up, and it was---
So unfair.
Tim's heart flutters.
Unfair.
"Are you expecting me to thank you?"
I'm sorry Tim
Tim doesn't push him away, so Bruce steps in closer, swallowing the rest of the space between them into nothing. He could kiss Tim if he wanted. "I just want you to let me in. Let me take care of you."
Bruce is the worst and I love him
Tim hates this. Hates the tone of his voice, how pitched it is, how Bruce will know exactly what it means. Why his breath is stilted and his pulse is racing and there's heat pulsing through him. How Bruce will see right through him.
"I'm not--- I'm my own person now. You can't just show up and expect me to let you in, when we both know this is about control. You not liking when I step too far from your gaze."
Me too.
Wants to make it so Tim couldn't breathe without him.
"You are, Tim. I never said you weren't. That you couldn't be. But you won't talk to me. So can you blame me for being concerned?" He says, voice deliberate with each word.
"When I see you going into Ivy's without back up? Or when you're drinking yourself sick in a night club." He shakes his head just once, barely.
"How should I react? Pretend like it didn't happen?"
no subject
A pause. Did Bruce know about him at the clubs? Or was he just testing him? Poking until he found something to pry into? Fuck. No. He knew, didn't he? Of course he did. Bruce knew everything.
"The more you stalk me, the less I want to be around you, you know. If you care about me, you'll let me stray further than your arm's reach."
no subject
He knew Tim's routine well enough that he could guess where he'd be at any given hour and typically be correct. Not always. But usually.
But Bruce wouldn't call it stalking. He did not sit in the cave and monitor all of the ways he had set up to track him. It's vigilance. A way to ensure Tim is safe without interfering. His hand tightens, enough to be noticeable.
"I am not stalking you, Tim."
no subject
"Then how do you know about me drinking myself stupid at the bars and clubs, Bruce? Nobody knows about that. Not even my friends." Especially not his friends. Kon probably knew, or would if he paid attention, but that was only because he had super senses. Dick didn't know. Bernard didn't know. Barbara didn't know. Nobody but Bruce.
He swallowed around the tightened hold, testing it, staying still and practically daring Bruce to strangle him right there in the middle of his office at lunchtime. God, after what Bruce did, that shouldn't be so hot.
"I know how you operate. I know you have a tracker on me. You know my movements too, don't you? That's why you were so close to Ivy's." He sets his jaw, tight and stern. "Maybe you let me go in there alone so she'd drug me."
no subject
But Bruce isn't anyone else. He is restrained layers of self-control. He is brutal self-discipline. So he doesn't strangle him. Or raise his voice, even if yelling might have made him feel better. Just breathes in once, sharp and slow. Then exhales. Looks away for a moment as if he's trying to collect himself. Maybe shove that fury back down where it belongs.
"You don't have to like how I did it. But don't you dare accuse me of doing it to hurt you.
no subject
"Right. Because you'd never hurt me?" Tim remains still, another dare to see if Bruce would break. And then, Tim's the one who does, swatting Bruce's hand from him and looking down at his shoes. "I need some space. I need you to keep your distance. Can you do that or not?"
no subject
That did not mean Bruce would comply. Not when it wasn't what Tim needed. Bruce knows what Tim needs. He knows everything. Tim would think the worst of him anyway. Would take all of that care and concern and twist it into something ugly. If Tim needed his space, Bruce would let him think he had it. And be ready to take him back when Tim realizes there's no one out there who'd satisfy him. Not like Bruce can.
"You're free to go."
no subject
"So much for lunch," Tim grumbles, shoulders sinking and somehow coming away from the whole altercation feeling like he was in the wrong. That was the thing with Bruce though; he was an expert in many things, and manipulation was key among them. If he wanted Tim feeling guilty, then that's how Tim would feel. It's inevitable---and really annoying to boot.
Still, he hesitates, just a moment longer.
"While I'm here, can you just assure me you wiped all surveillance of that night?" The last thing they needed was anyone getting a hold of CCTV footage of Batman and his former Robin fucking on a rooftop.
no subject
"If you're hungry, we can have lunch. I just thought you wanted space."
Emphasis on space, to remind Tim this is what he asked for. Distance from him and from all of the changes in their relationship.
"Don't worry. No one will see it."
no subject
"That's---not the point, Bruce." Tim's face flushes a little. The way Bruce says it makes it sound like a home movie he's going to have on repeat in private or something, hoarding the footage from the world. It's not exactly making Tim feel any better about the whole thing, knowing there's any kind of footage of that night. Of how desperate he looked. How he acted. "It should be destroyed."
he's (probably) lying lmao
He says flatly, like he's stating a fact. Like he's commenting on the weather or asking for the score from the game last night. Impersonal. Like it's not rotting something vital inside of him.
"No one will see it, Tim. Because it doesn't exist."
you know he got that shit on his phone
If Bruce had even a second of it... It was like keeping a piece of Tim hostage.
"I trust you, Bruce," he adds, quietly. "Thank you." And then he's leaving, because he does want space, doesn't he? He demanded it. So why does he feel so incredibly hollow without Bruce?