Chapter Text
Jason could feel it coming on from the moment he woke up - that familiar flash of heat at the base of his spine, the warmth along his lower back, the strange, inexplicable sense that things were stirring, changing. Someone else with a similar sensation might search the horizon for thunder clouds or scent the wind for the smell of rain.
Jason knew better, though.
Rolling over, he groaned into his pillows. At least he had no plans for the evening beyond prowling around the city in a helmet and Kevlar; he had no outstanding commitments and no pressing cases to pursue. Dick would probably tease him for taking yet another night off and the batspawn would probably sneer and make snide comments about Gotham’s laziest former Robin, and Tim…
Jason smiled fondly. If anything, his boyfriend would probably approve. Tim was always going on about how much Jason needed to take it easy every once in awhile, even as he poured himself another coffee and buried himself in his casenotes.
He might not be as pleased if he learned the real reason for Jason’s night in.
Which is why it’d be best if Timothy Drake never found out.
Sighing heavily, Jason felt around blindly for his phone, and once he’d found it, he pulled up the keypad and dialed a number from memory.
“B-man,” Jason greeted.
“Jason,” Bruce replied.
“I won’t be on patrol tonight, I’m taking the night off,”
Bruce grunted, an affirmation. “Anything serious?”
“Nah,” Jason replied. “Just something I can’t wriggle out of.”
Oh God why did he have to put it like that.
“Alright,” Bruce replied, oblivious to wave of pun-induced self-loathing that had overtaken the former Robin. “Thank you for letting me know.”
The line went dead.
And now that that's taken care of… Jason mused, doing a mental inventory of his current hideout for anything he might need. He’d definitely be able to make across town in time, but once he got to Skyline - his prefered safe-house when things came up - he’d be stuck there for at least a day or so. Best not to forget anything.
Two hours later, he was on the other side of town, armed with a two boxes of pancake mix and a stack of books from the secondhand bookshop, ready for a night in. He’d been going through this for so long - every three weeks, give or take, for the past seven years - he had his system down to a science. Settle in for the night, read a bit, maybe take a bath, sleep in the next day, have pancakes for lunch. It’d be nice. Enjoyable, even.
Jason scowled.
He’d barely set foot into Skyline when heat seared across his lower back, scorching and all too recognizable. Moving quickly, he shed his jacket and his shirt and braced himself against the kitchen counter, gritting his teeth as a prickling sensation began at the base of his spine and unfurled outward, reaching beyond the logical limits of his body.
It only took moments. Jason shifted and the new weight redistributed, his body automatically making the adjustments to his posture and balance as if turning into a tentacled freak was the most natural thing in the world. Merely an unfortunate side-effect of being brought back to life.
Or perhaps life was the unfortunate side-effect of monstrosity. It had been almost seven years since the transformations began, and he still couldn’t decide whether it was one way or the other.
No use trying to puzzle it out now. Jason Todd, former Robin, current Red Hood, certified undead vigilante extraordinaire, was a monster, and always would be.
So he might as well run a bath.
~~~
“M.A.X.,” Tim muttered, using his comm link to activate the voice-recognition software in his computer back at the Cave, “take me home.”
“Calculating,” an electronic voice replied. A split-second later, M.A.X. continued with, “Setting route to ‘Home.’ You should arrive in approximately fifty-eight minutes.”
Tim sagged wearily against the wall. He’d spent the entire night chasing around the Condiment King, a small-time Gotham criminal who became a big-time pain in the ass whenever he and his horrible food-related puns appeared to wreak havoc. If Tim had to hear one more rant about how much the Condiment King would relish the defeat of Red Robin, he’d probably lose his mind. After spending all night taking down an entire fleet of condiment-flinging drones all over the city, an hour long journey home might as well take an eternity.
Maybe I'll just… take a nap right here, Tim thought sleepily. Tired as he was, the thought of sleeping on the rooftop didn't seem so bad. Wouldn't be all that comfortable, but it would be quiet, at least.
Noting Tim’s prolonged silence, M.A.X. chirped, “Other frequently visited locations close to you include: Barstucks Coffee, three minutes away, and the old Skyline Warehouse, seven minutes away.”
Tim perked up. Jason lived in Skyline, it served as the first of several hideouts he maintained around the city, and it was the only one Jason had kept for any length of time. In fact, Jason had lived in Skyline for as long as Tim could remember. Certainly as long as they had been dating, but that had been a relatively recent development.
...a development that gave Tim a good excuse to drop in.
Thinking quickly, he mentally recalled over the voices he had heard in the comm that night. Jason's voice had not been among them. “M.A.X.,” Tim murmured thoughtfully, “where was Jay tonight?”
“According to earlier communications to Bruce, Jason is taking the night off. No further information on his location has been received.”
“That's alright, M.A.X.,” Tim said with a grin. “Take me to Skyline.”
“Right away,” the program replied. In no time at all, Tim was unlocking the door to Jason’s place.
Of all Jason’s many safe-houses, Skyline was Tim's favorite. The old industrial building still had much of its charm, with its brick walls and weathered wood floors and lead-paned windows having aged like fine wine. The space was sparsely furnished, as Jason preferred; to anyone else, it would look like the place was ready to be packed up and left in a heartbeat, its owner ready to fly at a moment’s notice.
Tim knew better.
Shutting the door behind him and toeing out of his boots, Tim wandered quietly through the empty living room, past the deceptively stark kitchen, and into the study, a narrow room that made up for the lack of breadth in towering, breathtaking height. A wall of windows spanned the length of the room from the floor to the vaulted ceiling several meters overhead. On the other side, Jason had lined the exposed brick walls with towering bookshelves and he’d slowly filled them, making in them a new home for all the stories he’d fallen in love with over the years. The study was Jason’s sanctuary and it offered all he needed - a place to sit (there were two chairs now, since Tim had walked into his life), a reading lamp, and the city sprawling beneath his feet, rough and ragged and everything Jason lived for.
Tim couldn’t see the city now, however; the curtains had been drawn. Which was… surprising. In all the times Tim had been to Skyline, he had never seen the curtains closed. Perhaps Jay was out…
...or maybe, Tim mused, walking farther into the study and catching the scent wafting from the room beyond, he was taking a bubble bath.
Jason’s bedroom was situated just beyond the study, the door hidden between a gap in the bookshelves. It, too, was as sparsely decorated as the rest of the place, with only a full-sized bed and a plain-looking dresser and nightstand to take up the space. A small succulent sat in terracotta pot on the window sill across from the bed.
Dim light glimmered from somewhere in the ensuite bathroom, where Jason was indeed lounging in the tub - a long, freestanding, white stone and stainless steel affair, probably the most extravagant thing in Jason’s possession. The bathtub was massive, and the water inside it churned happily as the jets sent bubbles spinning in swirling eddies under the water’s foamy surface. And there Jason lay dozing, only the back of his head visible above the cottony clouds of foaming bubbles, haloed by the light of a single candle that sat on the far edge of the tub.
Dang, does he know how to spend a night off, Tim thought, eyes wide in awestruck appreciation.
And Tim wanted in on it.
Quickly as he could, Tim stripped down to his boxers, the steam from the bath kissing his bare skin as he left the pieces of his Red Robin suit in a crumpled heap on the floor. The water was still warm when he slipped into the tub, the bath hadn’t run too long then. There’d still be time to enjoy it.
Jason woke with a start to the sound of splashing.
“ Who the f - Tim?” Jason gasped. The expression that flashed across his face one of pure, unadulterated terror.
And before Tim could even register that, Jason’s expression darkened, quickly melting from fear to fury. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?
This was not the reception Tim had been expecting - but he had little time to dwell on that. Something had wriggled by his leg. Something alive.
And decidedly not human.
Startled, Tim grabbed at it blindly and when he caught it, he yanked it out of the water, only to be surprised by the sight of-
A tentacle.
A long, brilliant red tentacle, the flesh slippery and smooth and suckered under the tip. It squirmed irately in his hands, but Tim didn’t care. He could only stare at Jason, speechless for only a second at most.
“Okay,” Tim began. “I have clearly intruded on something I wasn’t supposed to see here.”
“Clearly,” Jason repeated. His voice was hoarse.
Surprised - but not one to avoid addressing the octopus in the tub - Tim began to examine the tentacle in his hand. The creature it belonged to seemed rather displeased about being caught; the appendage flicked back and forth in Tim’s grip, suckering angrily at his fingers as Tim studied it from every angle. Maybe I’m dreaming, Tim thought hazily. Things weren’t making sense.
“I didn’t know you could give an octopus a bath,” Tim said finally.
Silence.
“I mean, I don’t know much about octopi but it begs the question… wouldn’t it be bad for their skin or something?”
Tim felt a little higher, his hands tracing across the tentacle’s slippery flesh. He found himself immediately surprised by the actual girth of the thing; while the tip of the tentacle had been rather narrow, farther along the middle was now as wide as his own wrist.
“Also he’s kinda… big. ”
More stunned silence from Jason. In Tim’s hand, the tentacle tensed nervously.
“Where did you get an octopus this size anyways…” Tim muttered, sliding higher and higher up the tentacle he had found.
“Tim, you don’t understand, no - Timothy… ” Jason choked out, finally finding a voice again.
All at once, Tim’s hands reached a juncture where the tentacles morphed into soft, warm skin.
Human skin.
Tim stared at Jason.
Jason stared at Tim.
“...This is some hentai-type shit,” Tim muttered.
Jason choked.
Tim sat up, wholly oblivious to Jason’s horror as he took the tentacle in both hands and began to examine it more closely, peering at the suckers, rubbing the fluid that coated the tentacle between his fingers. His earlier exhaustion had all but vanished in light of his recent discovery, not that he was surprised. Mysteries woke him up.
Jason, for his part, said nothing as his entire world crashed down around him. It was the culmination of his greatest nightmares from the past seven years coming true. Someone discovering him like this. Studying him. And worse - that someone was actually some Jason kinda appreciated having around, someone it’d be a pain to never see again. Which was without a doubt what was about to come out of Tim’s mouth. There was no way Timothy Drake would ever want to go on another date with some tentacled freak-
Jason threw his head back and moaned , the obscene sound ringing wetly around the tiled bathroom as Tim snatched his hands away from the tentacle he’d been looking at. He hadn’t expected stroking the underside like he had would elicit such a reaction.
“This is some hentai-type shit,” Tim breathed.
This wasn’t happening.
“So, Jason,” Tim began, casual as ever. He might’ve been about to ask his opinion on the weather. “How long have you been a broody pile of tentacle angst?”
Jason narrowed his eyes. Slowly, carefully, he raised a single tentacle out of the water, watching Tim’s eyes cross as the tentacle drew closer and closer to his face until…
Jason poked Tim on the nose.
“Call this hentai… one more time,” Jason said menacingly.
Tim uncrossed his eyes, his gaze focusing on Jason as Tim met Jason’s glower with a solemn expression of his own.
“...so do I put this in my mouth, or…”
“That’s it,” Jason snapped. “Get out.”
~~~
When Jason finished his bath half an hour later, he decided his best course of action would be to pretend that nothing had happened.
So that’s what he did. Rising slowly, he heaved himself from the tub, toweled off, and slipped into his bathrobe - a secondhand blue terry affair he had cut a large hole from specifically for times like these. Tim was the farthest thing from his mind. Tim Drake did not exist.
He probably left already , Jason thought bitterly, dipping his towel in the warm water and watching the fabric darken as it grew wet. And he won’t ever come back.
He pulled the towel out from the water and wrung it out, hard. Water trickled down his forearms.
It was bound to happen eventually.
Sighing quietly, he used the damp towel to wipe the excess moisture that had beaded up along the dark red flesh. With any luck, Tim would be gone and Jason could sleep, and the tentacles would hopefully be gone by morning, taking any memories of this evening with it.
Instead, he found Tim sitting on his chair in the study, his towel neatly folded in his lap. The dry clothes he wore fit him poorly, clearly borrowed - Jason recognized his Wonder Woman t-shirt in a heartbeat, and the holey sweats were definitely his - from Jason’s dresser, and they only helped perfect the calm, relaxed image that radiated from from every facet of the scene he had set. He was the picture of nonchalance… except for his hands, those expressive, fine-boned hands, which plucked nervously at the towel threads, the hems of his stolen clothing, the skin around his bitten nails.
Jason loved Tim’s hands. He’d miss holding them.
“So,” Tim began slowly, keep his eyes firmly fixed on his hands. “I realize that I may have made light of a rather sensitive subject.”
“Sensitive?” Jason demanded, cutting him off. “Sensitive?”
“They seemed pretty darn sensitive back in the tub,” Tim muttered under his breath.
“Of course I’m sensitive about them - they’re not even supposed to exist, ” Jason hissed. “I have tentacles, for fuck’s sake .”
“And also legs,” Tim noted curiously. “Which is rather unexpected, I wasn’t sure if… Can I ask where your, uh, appendages attach then?”
“...you're incorrigible,” Jason muttered, feeling the tentacles sucker along his legs and press nervously against his back.
“But not afraid,” Tim offered.
Jason was quiet.
“...or running away screaming, for that matter,” Tim continued, nonchalant as ever. “I mean, you’re pretty freaking weird to begin with, what with the vigilante thing, plus the being undead thing… and your fashion sense,” he said, picking at the borrowed t-shirt before giving a little smile.
“What do you want, Drake,” Jason demanded.
“Honestly?” Tim retorted, “I just want to go to sleep, I’m exhausted-”
“This isn’t a game!” Jason snarled, turning away.
The seat groaned as Tim rose to his feet. His bare feet made next to no noise as he padded towards Jason, stopping to stand right in front of him, without touching.
“Jason,” Tim whispered. “You have never been a game to me.”
Jason froze.
“I like you,” Tim continued, his voice calm and soft. “I liked you when you’d fight by my side and then storm off in a huff, I liked you when you asked me for help on a case you’d already completed because all you really wanted was a dinner date. I liked you when you gave me shit even as you dressed my wounds.
“I like you when we cook together, and when you pace across the floor and brood, and when you bring me coffee even though I should be sleeping, and when we fall asleep on the couch after patrol and wake up all stiff and sore the next morning.”
Like the laser sights on a sniper rifle, Jason could feel Tim’s gaze settling on all the vulnerable points on his body, picking each of them out one by one.
“What makes you think I won’t like you like this?” Tim whispered.
Jason was silent.
Tim thought for a moment. “So. I am going to bed,” he decided, punctuating his words with a yawn and a long, drawn-out stretch. As he relaxed again, his hand not so subtly found Jason’s. “You coming with?” Tim asked hopefully.
Without a word, Jason followed.
~~~
This wasn’t happening.
The bedroom was quiet, and with the curtains drawn, the room was dark but for the glow of the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table.The digital face cast the room in a dimly orange light, illuminating the rumpled sheets of Jason’s bed and the sleeping form that occupied it.
Tim hadn’t been kidding then, when he’d said he was exhausted, yawning loudly as he stepped out of the room to let Jason change out of his bathrobe. He had crashed, falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow - and now Jason watched, transfixed by the sight of Tim’s restful breathing as the blankets rose and fell, rose and fell, while Tim slept.
Maybe he wouldn’t notice if Jason just slept in the study.
“You just gonna stand there all night?” Tim whispered.
Jason jumped. “You’re awake,” he accused, wincing as his tentacles unsuckered themselves from his skin in surprise. He’d shoved them down the back of his pants and squeezed into a tight-fitting shirt in order to keep them from wandering as he slept, and now they’d plastered themselves uncomfortably to his legs, wriggling every so often in an unconscious attempt to escape.
This was a bad idea. This was a horrible, awful, terrible, very bad-
“Was waitin’ for you,” Tim replied sleepily. “You think I came all this way to fall asleep without you?”
Grimacing, Jason made his way to the other side of the bed, crawling in tentatively and laying down as far away from Tim as the full-sized mattress would allow. Tim, for his part, lay perfectly still, allowing Jason to move as much as he dared until he’d found a position on his side that seemed passably comfortable. The tentacles still twitched irritably, throbbing where the elastic of his pants pressed into them, but Jason swallowed tightly and ignored it.
Tim didn’t move until Jason finally settled, and when he did, it was a slow, careful motion. A single hand reached over and gently brushed Jason’s shoulder, tapping lightly until Tim found what he sought: Jason’s hand.
“Is this okay?” Tim breathed.
Jason grunted.
Tim waited.
“...yeah, it’s okay, I guess,” Jason muttered, shifting nervously to allow Tim to slip Jason’s fingers between his own. Once satisfied, Tim moved to his side as well and turned away from Jason, far enough away to give Jason his room, close enough to pull Jason’s arm around him and hold his hand close to his chest.
And despite all his worries and his fears and the occasional irate stirring of the tentacles pinned to his body, Jason found himself lulled into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
~~~
Alas, the peace was never meant to last.
Jason woke to the early morning sunshine streaming through his bedroom window, feeling better rested than he could ever remember. His dreams last night - what little he remembered of them, anyways - had been calm and reassuring. There had been a bubble bath, he remembered. With Tim. And they’d gone to bed together and fallen asleep holding hands - something so sappy only Tim could come up with it, but it had been… nice.
The memory of the dream remained as a gentle peace that lingered throughout his entire body. Relaxed and free of tension, Jason gave a satisfied sigh as he sank deeper into the warmth, the blankets tangled around his limbs, his tentacles slowly,leisurely stroking something soft and warm and...
Jason bolted upright.
His tentacles had pulled themselves free in the night and ran rampant in their freedom, sprawling out over the bed, knotting themselves into the sheets, and winding themselves around-
“Tim,” Jason choked, his voice breaking around his panic as he lurched into action, yanking off the tentacle wrapped around the younger man’s waist even as he stared in horror at the one that had slunk over his shoulder and begun to curl around Tim’s throat.
Tim’s eyes snapped open, a hiss of pain escaping his lips. The hand that still held Jason’s fingers flew to his abdomen as he turned and looked up to Jason in shock.
“Tim are-”
As Tim sat up, the ruby-colored tentacle by his throat rolled down his shoulder, held up only by… Tim’s own hand.
...He'd been holding it while he slept.
“Ow…” Tim groaned, rubbing sleepily at his waist. The pale skin had flushed, leaving a bright pink weal from his bare hip to just under his navel, and small circular welts left from the tentacle’s suckered tip. “You know, if you wanted me to let go, you could've just asked,” he grumbled. “Good grief, what time is - is that the sunrise? Fuck…”
Jason stared.
“Well if that's all you had to say, I'm going back to sleep,” Tim muttered.
And with that, he rolled back over and buried his head back into the pillows, Jason's fingers still in one hand, the tentacle in the other.
With his free hand, Jason grabbed Tim’s shoulder and rolled him right back.
“What?” Tim grumbled, looking back up at Jason with a spectacular pout. “Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”
Jason scowled. “Aren’t you bothered by this?” he demanded. Several tentacles slapped irately against the bedspread.
"By being kept awake?” Tim retorted. “Yes."
“No, by the fact that your boyfriend is a freak,” Jason snapped, punctuating the last word by whipping the tentacle free from Tim’s grasp with a harsh, lashing movement.
Tim studied Jason for a long moment. Barely moving. Saying nothing. And Jason stared right back, his expression hard and brittle like frozen steel, feeling like he’d crack at the slightest touch.
Whatever Tim would say would shatter him.
But Tim said nothing.
Instead, he sat up slowly, pulled his fingers free of Jason’s grasp, and kissed him gently on the lips. “What are you afraid of?” Tim asked quietly.
So much.
Too much.
Jason was silent for a long time, his fears playing out behind his eyes.
What are you afraid of?
Being discovered. Being scorned. Anger. Fear. Losing people.
Losing Tim.
Tim rolled over and laid back down, watching Jason with a solemn look in his eyes. “When did this start?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Can you tell me that?”
“It was… after,” Jason whispered. “After they brought me back.” Memories flashed across his consciousness, dark and searing. A pitch-black room. A metal table.
Chains.
“They thought it was the Pit. Maybe it mutated me, they thought. Maybe it was some weird energy. They ran tests. Experimented.”
Bright, blinding lights. People in white coats, white masks. Blank stares. Looks of disgust.
He could remember screaming.
They had tried, Jason remembered, to remove them - to no avail. They only grew back, the process becoming more excruciating each time. Ra’s al Ghul’s henchmen had finally let him rest when it became clear that the anesthetics were no longer working; the stress of regrowing the amputated appendages only made Jason burn through the drugs quicker. So they left him alone, and the tentacles stayed.
Until one night, they disappeared.
That had been the night he escaped.
He hadn’t expected they’d return a few weeks later, when he was living on the streets of some unfamiliar city. Or again, three weeks after that. Or again…
“-son... Jason .”
Jason blinked, the memories dissipating.
Tim stared up at him, his expression solemn. “You don’t have to go back to that,” Tim murmured. “Come here, Jay. Lay down with me.”
It felt as though the sky itself had been set on Jason’s shoulders. He sank wearily back into the mattress and lay down facing Tim, unsure of what to say. Instead, he watched as Tim reached across the space between them and slowly intertwined their fingers again.
“Is this okay?” Tim breathed, his eyes fixed on Jason’s face. Jason never truly realized just how attentive Tim could be. He moved as if Jason were made of glass, as if he would crack beneath the slightest pressure, yet Tim’s touches were gentle, tender. Oddly… reverent.
“Yeah,” Jason croaked. He tightened his fingers between Tim’s.
“Do you want to change the subject?” Tim asked.
“I… no,” Jason replied. “I think… I think I need this.”
Tim smiled.
~~~
They stayed like that for several hours, whispering underneath the shelter of the covers as the dawn gave way to the day. Tim learned about Jason - that he had nine tentacles, and they grew from a place along the small of his back. That every three weeks, they sprouted and turned Jason into a bubble-bath-lounging hermit for 24 hours or so.
Tim learned that the tentacles seemed to have a mind of their own and they often moved about without Jason noticing, expressing things that Jason tried to keep to himself. He learned that Jason could probably control them, if he thought about it, but he’d never tried all nine at once.
Jason learned that Tim possessed patience in abundance, and that while he could talk someone’s ear off about the differences in the physics behind different styles of martial arts, he could also be an attentive listener whose curiosity was bound only by the constraints of his thoughtfulness. Jason learned that Tim could read him at a glance - that those sharp eyes caught even the briefest hints of panic or the shortest sparks of pain. But he never flinched from it, nor did he rush to console or pity him. He was simply… Tim.
And that was far more than Jason could ever have hoped for.
Sometime after noon, when their conversation had turned from secrets and tentacles to current cases and talks of pancakes for lunch, Jason stiffened. He shuddered once, his eyes drifting closed, and Tim watched in amazement as the ruby-red tentacles that had sprawled over Jason’s waist and legs and the bed slowly retracted into the base of Jason’s spine. Jason lay in mute astonishment as Tim eagerly clambered on top of him to see what was happening, too fascinated to show any regard for Jason’s personal space as he watched the tentacles curl in upon themselves and shrink until they all but vanished, leaving nothing behind but a fist-sized scar.
Once they finally disappeared, Tim rolled himself off Jason to look him in the eye.
“That was wild, ” Tim breathed, wide-eyed and awestruck.
Jason narrowed his eyes. “You’re a menace,” he replied.
Tim grinned. “It’s part of my charm, Jay,” he said, arching an eyebrow and giving Jason a dastardly look. “You can’t resist it.”
Jason chuckled, bewildered by the turn of the day’s events, but… heartened by them as well. And grateful, more grateful than he could ever express.
“So you might as well give in,” Tim teased, “and keep me as close as you dare.”
Jason never felt more daring in his life.