For notesfromtimandjay: Bleeding Out

My version of when Jason came to Tim’s apartment wounded. I actually wrote this a while ago, but the Zack posted his fic for the versions of this event and I was a little discouraged. :\

But I’m posting this anyway, now. X\


The soft sound of rain pattering the windows is soothing and Tim relaxes into his couch. He likes spending time at his apartment. It has a nice view and it’s just so quiet.

He runs a finger along the spine of the book in his hands and just enjoys the sound of the rain.

His relaxation is interrupted by a harsh banging against the door. He opens his eyes and looks towards it. Then there’s a sound like someone thudding their head against the wood and his brows furrow.

Setting his book on the table, he gets up and pulls out a few throwing knives. He peeks through the peephole but only sees a shock of black hair. There’s someone, presumably male, slumped against his door. He twists the knob, making sure it’s loud enough for the person to hear.

They do, and shift enough that they aren’t leaning quiet so heavily on the door. Tim slowly opens the door a fraction and looks out.

His eyes widen, “…Jason?”

The man grunts and Tim looks down.


Tim hisses and opens the door all the way, tucking the blades back into their hidden compartment. He reaches out and pulls Jason into his apartment, doing his best to support the very large, heavy, and unsteady man. Somehow Tim manages to kick the door closed and lock it with Jason leaning on him. He drags Jason to the sofa and sits him down on it.

“Try to stay sitting up for a minute, Jason,” Tim says while undoing anything that may hinder his getting the man’s clothes off.

“Didn’t know you were so forward, Replacement,” Jason rasps when Tim tugs off his jacket.

Tim merely hums, ignoring him and as gently as possible, removes the shirts Jason’s wearing. He has to steady the older man after he pulls them off and he takes a look at his stomach. There’s a gunshot wound to the left side of his abdomen. As far as Tim can tell, it missed any major organs, but he can’t be entirely sure.

He maneuvers Jason so that the man is lying down now, head resting on the pillows. As he works on Jason’s pants, he sets about distracting himself by thinking about what procedures need to be done. “Jason, I need you to tell me if you’ve been injected with anything or if you’ve taken something.”

Jason grunts as Tim shimmies his soaked jeans off, “Naw. Nothin’ but a painkiller about an hour ago.”

Tim frowns, but accepts that. Once the man is left only in his jock (because oh my god, the man doesn’t wear underwear) Tim dashes to his bathroom to gather an armful of towels and his medicine kit. He turns on the water to get it to warm while he goes back to his room and sets the supplies on the coffee table.

He dries Jason lightly, wiping away rain and sweat. Once that’s done he places a soft towel under the wound, trying to keep some of the blood off his couch. It seems that the bullet went clean through, possibly an armor-piercing round, which is both good and bad. Tim then grabs a blanket to cover Jason’s lower half and goes off to get the warm water.

Tim comes back with a basin of water and he sets it on the floor next to the sofa. He looks up and sees Jason’s eyes mostly closed, but the man is staring at him. Tim looks away, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear.

Now that everything’s set up, Tim can finally take care of that injury. He knows that Jason is watching him now, but he does his best not to let that affect him. He wipes away the blood with the warm water, revealing the bullet hole.

Jason is perfectly still while Tim freezes and stitches the wound and he both appreciates it and worries. But when he checks, Jason’s still conscious. The man merely grunts when Tim turns him on his side to stitch up the exit wound. He deftly applies an antibacterial salve and somehow manages to wrap Jason’s stomach in bandages.

Readjusting Jason is a bit difficult, as the man is starting to get heavy with sleep. He adjusts the blanket around him and before he can move away, one hand reaches out to grab his wrist.

It seems practically tiny in Jason’s hold.

“Why…?” Jason’s eyes are closed, but his grip is tight.

Tim knows what he’s asking, regardless, “Because it would be pitiful if you were to die because of something so simple.”

Jason’s laugh is almost a wheeze, “What do you care?”

“…” Tim doesn’t really know how to answer that. So he slides out of Jason’s hold and gathers up the supplies and dirty clothes. He makes it to the door and he whispers, “You aren’t alone, Jason.”