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Blanket Fort
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Jocelyn POV
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Tim had very quickly weaseled his way back into my heart. As well as my home. It didn't take much either. Tim offered Ronan a deal that the man couldn't refuse. This was the kind of deal that made no sense to me, but to Ronan, it was like a jackpot. In exchange for searching/stalking gay dating sites and helping Ronan find trustable dates, Tim gets to come to the apartment as much as he likes. It seemed to very much please Ronan to have a new batch of unsuspecting victims.
Thus Tim began running around the apartment like a headless chicken. Banging into walls and stubbing his toes as he scuttled around. He was attempting to do miscellaneous tasks and busy his hands to prove himself useful. Attempting is the keyword here.
It started with the laundry. In my book, it was nothing too difficult. But alas, clothing shrunk, whites turned grey, and whole sweaters disappeared. Also, we no longer own socks. I tried to help, to show him how to sort colors and specific materials. But he was having none of it, arguing that as a guest in the apartment, he needed to contribute.
It was cute to see him try so hard. Even though it drove me crazy when he destroyed my favorite dress.
Not to mention his cooking. Tim would spend hours and hours making a single dish because it had to be perfect. Don't get me wrong, he isn't too bad a cook. It's just that by the time it is ready to eat, half the kitchen is trashed and Ronan and I are eating pizza.
I could tell it bummed him out. To try his best and yet fall short of the mile-high expectations he set for himself. But I didn't expect much in the first place. Frankly, all I wanted was to have Tim around. It was nostalgic and kind of therapeutic to turn around the corner and see his sleepy face smiling at me. To stumble over coffee mugs and watch him pass out from sleep deprivation. We didn't need him to clean and cook, nor dust and organize. Tim could simply sit there and look pretty, and I'd give him a cookie for a job well done.
"Jocelyn?" the precious baby's voice called out from his blanket fort. Ronan and one of his many lovers built it around Tim while he was sleeping. The two males have way too much fun creating an absolute mess in the lounge. Tim didn't seem to mind when he woke up swaddled like a baby, all he did was turn on his laptop and continue working.
"Yeah, Timmy?" I poked my head under a draping sheet. His sharp, lean features were enhanced by the glowing screen. His eye bags are darker than his coffee – oop it's empty. Grabbing the steaming coffee jug, I pushed aside some sheets and knelt beside him. His body was nestled into a beanbag, looking very cute with his stained pajamas and fuzzy slippers. I poured the black soul juice into his mug and watched him drink it, his pupils visibly shaking, and I swear I could hear his heartbeat.
Yeah, that's not healthy
"Cookie?" I offered, already rummaging around in my little fanny pack. Ever since he started living in the apartment, which has only been three days, I've kept a little pack with me. Inside are things like moisturizer (because his skin is dry as fuck), a sleep mask, coffee-flavored candy, and snacks. I pulled out a chocolate chip cookie and held it near his mouth. He was quick to inhale the baked treat, munching away happily.
"Thank you," he muffled out. There were crumbs stuck to his bottom lip and the corners of his mouth. I motioned around his face, indicating that there was something there. He searched them out using his tongue, feeling the little leftovers and licking them away. I watched like a pervert as the point of his tongue scraped at thin pink lips, making them moist with his saliva.
I wanted to touch
Reaching out, I ghosted my finger against his cheek. The peach fuzz stood up at the unexpected contact. The pad of my finger glided down and to his lips, hesitating when he flinched back. But like a magpie seeing something shiny, I had to proceed. Flexing my finger straight, I made contact.
It was oddly soft and firm, like a marshmallow. How tempting it was to press and pull at the alluring flesh. To trace the shape and internally map each little detail. Like how the bottom was thinner than the top. The way one corner was higher than the other.
I wondered if it smelled like coffee.
If it tasted like coffee.
"Thanks," Tim reached up and patted his face. Assuming that I had brushed away more crumbs I felt my cheeks flush and my stomach twist. I am feeling slightly guilty about my thoughts. I didn't know how I felt towards Tim. I knew it wasn't a simple friendship, but I was afraid of committing to something I wasn't sure about. The last thing I wanted to do was not give Tim what he deserved.
Especially if he wasn't willing to meet my own desires. My selfish need for more
"How's the work coming along?" I was distracted Tim sighed heavily and rubbed his face with both hands. My question probed a sore spot. Last night, Tim had been out on patrol and returned to several hassling calls from Wayne Corp. Because someone had fucked up hugely on some important report, it was up to Tim to retrieve all the missing data.
For anyone else, it would have been hopeless. But Tim isn't a normal person. That's why it only took him a few stressful hours to finish. Of course, he had to write follow-up reports on how to prevent future incidents. something I found ridiculous but didn't question too much. I've never worked a desk job before, so I guess being thorough is just how they do things.
"I finished that a while ago, but now they need some data for another project," his sharp face contorted, and I could tell he was stressed. I reached out and grabbed the laptop. He tried to pull it back but I swatted his hand. He was looking through the charts and reading the email he was sent. I got a quick gist of what they wanted.
"It's not even urgent; why are they bothering you with it now?" I scoffed. I saved the draft he was working on and closed the laptop. Tim all but squealed like a chipmunk and dove for the device. I intercepted and yanked on his arm, using my body weight to topple us back onto the beanbag.
I was settled between his legs. His arms were resting beside his head, and one leg was propped up on top of the other. He visibly gulped, Adams' apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. Long strands of hair fell into my vision, and I tried blowing them aside. I was about to give him a stern lesson about setting boundaries and taking care of himself.
Tim blinked with his tired blue eyes. Reaching out a large hand, he grasped the annoying locks and rubbed them between his fingers. I watched him, unsure of what he was trying to do. Soon, he leaned his head forward and placed a fleeting kiss on the split ends.
"I miss your striking blue locks," he whispered. A raspy hush that slipped through my ear canal and sank into my soul. My cheeks felt hot and my breath undoubtedly hitched at the way he looked up at me through his dark lashes.
"I- I can always dye my hair," I stuttered out, nonsense. A feeble attempt at making words form that ended up with me wanting to slap myself. I was looking so cool just before. Now I was flustered over a small gesture.
"Don't. Your face may be different, and your voice is a lot softer, but you are still my Jocelyn." Tim's hand dropped my hair and reached out to stroke my cheek. His hands were cold, eliciting a stinging sensation where our skin touched. I let him do what he wanted, touching and probing my face with a distant expression on his face.
"It is getting long though. I was thinking of getting it cut," I awkwardly replied. It was true, I liked styling my hair, but it was also a hassle. Plus, it wasn't the healthiest either; it got knotted easily and it shed like a cat in summer.
"How short?" he was curious, his eyes lighting up.
"I still want to be able to tie it up, so maybe my shoulder?" I mimicked the length.
"Why not shorter? You can still tie the top half up, keep it out of your eyes," his arm fell from my face and his hand caught on my shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze before setting it on his chest.
"Do you think it would suit me?" I asked out of curiosity. Leaning away and sitting properly.
"You'll always look beautiful, with wild untamed hair or as bald as an egg."
I punched his shoulder playfully at his comment. I am trying to tame the smile stretching across my face. Tim's laughter turned into a long yawn and he rubbed his eyes. Seeing how tired he was, I decided enough was enough.
Standing up, I pulled back the blankets and sheets, folding them into a pile on the couch. Offering a hand, I helped Tim to his feet, and together we walked to my bedroom. As it had become routine, Tim went to the bathroom to shower. While he cleaned away the sweat and grime from the long night and day, I stripped off my clothes and changed into a simple camisole and fitted shorts.
I was an awkward sleeper, constantly twisting and turning. I often choke myself on my shirt collars and give myself wedgies. So I would resort to not wearing clothes in general. It was actually a good method of strengthening my immune system. But with Tim living alongside me, I was trying to be more respectable.
I doubt Tim would object to a little boob here and there.
I sat on the bed, hearing the water stop and shuffling. Tim came out, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His body glistened with droplets of water, and I watched them race down his sculpted body. Years of training and discipline were visible in each taunt curve of his muscles. Not too bulky nor too thin.
"Sit," I said, patting the mattress. Tim flopped beside me, handing his towel over to my hands. He turned his back and tilted his head backward. Gave me the right angle to dry his hair. We sat in tranquil silence, Tim occasionally letting out a contented humm when I dug my fingers into his scalp, massaging.
I threw the towel into the washing basket once his thick mop of hair was dry and fluffy. Tim quickly scrambled under the sheets, settling himself in the middle. This leaves me no other choice than to stick close to him.
Rolling my eyes, I was about to lie down when my phone buzzed. I checked it, noticing that it was a message from Bruce. Unlocking the screen, I quickly read his message and found my stomach twisting in anticipation.
He wanted to cash in on our deal.
He wanted me to come to the house this weekend, to help Alfred prepare their Sunday brunch.
It was obvious that he wanted to end the charade. I don't doubt Damian told him that I confessed. All that is left is to see everyone, apologies, hug it out, and move on. It's not too difficult when I break it down. But there was still a nagging part of me that echoed my insecurities.
Secretly they are mad.
But even if they are, I can put up with it. Because they are worth coming back to life for.
I sent a short reply, put my phone on charge, and settled under the covers. Tim was quick to snatch me by the waist and pull me into his chest. Tim is the big spoon, and I am the little spoon.
He buried his face in my hair. Letting out a low rumble of pleasure as his face trailed low. His cold nose pressed against the base of my neck, and before I could complain, he placed a kiss. It tingled. Sending the hairs on my hair standing.
He placed two more, one on my shoulder and another on my jaw.
I bite my lip, holding back from scolding him. Because I didn't hate it. These little moments of intimacy. Sprinkles of love and affection were so foreign to me. I didn't know how to respond. Should I say something or not?
So instead, I grabbed one of his hands, interlocked his fingers, and kissed his knuckles. I heard his voice hitch and his arm around my waist tightened. Minutes passed, and I assumed he was asleep. I moved around, pulling my legs closer to my body and getting comfortable.
I began to drift off, feeling safe and secure. Right as my consciousness began to fade, I undoubtedly heard a low, sweet whisper tickling my ear.
"I love you"
I love you too, my little red robin
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Published: 30/05/2022
Edited: NA
Word Count: 2,211