[ The timing of Tim’s body language is much more telling than the body language itself: he doesn’t move when Jason approaches or crouches down. He only stiffens when Jason hugs him. The discomfort isn’t stemming from Jason.

It’s the comforting hug. (He doesn’t deserve it. Not from Jay. How could he?)

It’s the feeling that telling Jay was wrong. (This has to tip the balance in their family. Knowledge in the wrong hands is dangerous.)

It’s knowing that telling Jay was right. (He’s been trying to work with them without a full understanding of Bruce’s zealotry for his code.)

Tim pats him on the back with inexperienced perfunctoriness. They don’t hug. (Except they do, now. Rarely.) ]

It’s messed up. It shouldn’t be impossible to do the job and be human. It’s not enough for him if they don’t die. It’s “he has to face what he’s done”. “You saved him today, Tim, but what about tomorrow?” We have to scratch back into his good graces. He never gets tied up in Christmas lights in a minivan or drowned in a lake. Or apologizes, for letting it happen.

[ That’s enough of a hug. Tim scoots to the side. ]

I’m just… so tired of waiting for when he decides I’m you.