multiversallogs

Who: Tim Drake-Wayne and Conner Kent
What: Tim needs to get used to sharing an apartment with someone who doesn't just use up the hot water and eat his cereal ~~Cass~~
Where: Raven's Gate apartment
When: Shortly after the end of this log
Warnings: Probable mentions of recent attempted assault and injury.

Having managed to completely screw up both last night and today's conversation with Bruce, who is giving him entirely too many conflicted feelings that are starting to centre around being annoyed at getting walked out on without a proper explanation but cut through with awareness that he could have handled that talk better himself, Tim is just glad to be heading home. Or what he's calling home for right now, a small two-bed apartment in Raven's Gate that he's sharing with Conner, close to the docks and the smell of the sea but busy and civilised enough for his city-boy tendencies. He takes several measures to avoid pursuit, just in case anyone was staking out Bruce's safe house, and then picks up a few groceries before making his way to Raven's Gate.

He heads in through the front door and calls out, quietly since he knows Conner will hear him, "I'm back."

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Conner raises an eyebrow at that. "You mean back when we had no idea what we were doing?" A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "That all seems like centuries ago instead of a few years."

"Do you... need any help taking care of anything?" he asks, gesturing at Tim. "Some salve or something?"

"When you had no idea what you were doing, yeah." He works with Batman, he always knows what he's doing. ... Okay, maybe not always, but shh, he tries to. "It does feel like it was a lot longer ago than it really was."

"No, the stitches should be fine - I'm going to be sore for a while, though." Normal people would be asking for painkillers in that case, Tim.

"No going out and being Mr. Hides In Shadows until you're better then. And if you sneak out, I will go after you. Got it?" He gives Tim a stern look. Yes, he is totally parenting right now. Well, somehow has to. Tim does not do a good job at taking care of himself, Conner feels. Especially if he comes home with stitches and bruises after being drugged.

Tim is not very appreciative of parenting coming from his best friend - he knows it's just that Conner is worried about him, and that's fine; not ideal, but fine - but that doesn't mean his sense of independence chafes any less. "I've fought with worse." That's not... actually reassuring, and he's always regretted it afterwards. He frowns at Conner for a long moment, then sighs, rubbing a hand back through his hair. "I'll try to restrict myself for a day or two. I have some jobs to apply for to keep me busy, anyway."

He flops back into the chair at that. "Hey, that's all I ask. Just take care of yourself and don't do anything unnecessary in normal people terms, not your terms."

Oh. Right. Jobs. He should get on that too, huh.

He takes a seat in the other chair, a little far forward so he's almost perching. "I do take care of myself." On a very specific Tim scale of things that might not exactly match up anyone else's standards of taking care of themselves, as Conner is probably getting more of an idea of from actually living with him for more than just weekends. "Neither of us exactly have normal standards to go by, either. I promise not to do anything that'll tear my stitches, okay? That's - reasonably normal."

And yes, yes he should.

Conner just snorts at that first sentence, giving him a disbelieving look. "I'm gonna hold you to that last thing. That's what I'm worried about the most." He pauses for a moment, looking down. "I know I'm probably not the most therapeutic person to talk to either, but if something's ever, you know, on your mind or bothering you or something like that, you can come talk to me about it to.."

Tim raises an eyebrow, and takes a moment before speaking. He's just thinking... maybe it'd be good to talk about what happened, but he's gone as far into it as he's really comfortable with, and he'd rather just put it behind him. And he doesn't want Conner to start worrying again and have more reason to tell him not to go out alone. "Conner... I appreciate that, and if I need to talk about something, I'll come to you. I already told you what was bothering me about Bruce. You're my best friend, here or anywhere - and not my therapist, so don't worry about that, okay?"

Conner holds his hands up surrender. "I got it. I was mostly just saying for future reference, you know? Just don't bottle everything up until you explode or crash, okay?"

Stomp

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