Chapter Text
"So, Timbers," Jason says, and gives Tim a wicked flash of teeth that makes him want to duck under the dining room table for cover. "Help us settle a little bet here. Do you jerk off to the videos or is little Timmy incapable of raising to the occasion?"
"Jason!" Dick hisses, slapping Jason's hand with a loud smack. "I told you to let me handle it."
Jason rolls his eyes. "I'd have let you handle it, if you'd been willing to actually try to handle it. We're already done with dessert." He waves his tea spoon at the empty plates on the table. "And you've yet to ask. Did you even tell him why we invited him tonight?"
Tim's stomach churns and the delicious chicken tikka he just ate turns to stone in his belly. There's a tiny part of him that's hoping against hope that this isn't about the videos. Maybe they’re talking about other videos? Any other kind really.
Please, oh, god, please.
"Look what you did?" Dick scolds Jason. "He looks like he's about to pass out." He turns to Tim and gives him his best reassuring smile. The hundred percent patented Dick-Grayson-beaming smile that makes everyone melt and want to do whatever Dick asks. Tim isn't an exception. "It's alright, Tim. We aren't angry."
"Speak for yourself," Jason grouses.
That more than Dick's smile helps calm Tim down. Jason isn't angry. Tim has seen Jason's anger before. He has bled under its uncontrolled fury back when the other boy first came back. This isn't it.
"What videos?" Tim tries anyway. There's an off-chance that they are speaking about something else, and Tim isn't going to betray himself by volunteering information they don't have.
"You know," Jason says casually, waving his hands dismissively. "The videos of Dick fucking me. We found two cameras in our bedroom and two bugs. A bit of digging, a bit of hacking, and imagine our surprise to learn that instead of a peeping Tom we had a peeping Tim."
"Jason!" Dick hisses, and bangs his head against the table.
Tim's face burns with embarrassment, and cold sweat breaks down his back. He has to swallow down the desire to puke. They know. Of course they know.
Tim's going to die. Actually, that would be the perfect solution to his problems. Death. Right then. Where is an Arkham break-out when you need one? Tim could use a heroic death at the hands of some escaped rogues right about now. Surely that's not too much to ask, is it?
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says feebly.
"Tim, really." Dick levels him with an unimpressed glare. "We aren't angry. I mean, I was at first. Then I was hurt, and then just—Why? And no, there's no bet we want you to settle." He scowls at Jason before turning back to Tim. "We just want to know why you would do such a thing?"
"And how long have you been doing it? I want to know that," Jason adds. "And, since it's my ass that's getting pounded more often than not, I also want to know who you've shared the videos with."
"No one!" Tim protests, offended. He'd never show those videos to anyone. They are his.
"Alright, that's something," Dick says. "Now, why?"
"And how long?" Jason reminds them.
"I didn't mean to," Tim mumbles, unable to meet their eyes. "It wasn't intentional."
Jason snorts disbelievingly. "You put a bunch of bugs in our bedroom unintentionally? Come on, if you're gonna lie at least put some effort into it."
"It got out of hand," Tim admits. "But it didn't start that way. I—Remember the camera Bruce gave me for my birthday?"
"Yeah," Dick says.
"Hard to forget," Jason comments. "We all thought you were gonna elope with it and we’d only see you again after you went to Vegas and put a ring on it."
"I wasn't that bad," Tim defends himself.
It was the best camera Tim had ever seen. It still is. A bit of excitement is normal. Lucinda isn't just state-of-the-art, she is beyond state-of-the-art. An experimental prototype with Kryptonian technology in it. How Bruce convinced Clark to share that with him is a mystery, but Tim sure as hell isn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"I—" Tim stumbles over the next part. How to explain it in a way that doesn't make him sound like a total nut job? "I have this... tradition?" More like a superstition really, but Tim isn't going to admit that. "The first photo I take with a new camera has to be of Dick." There, he said it. Let them mock him if they will. "It's stupid. I know," he hurries to add. It's better if he says it than if they do. "But my first photo ever was of Dick, when he was at the circus. My dad bought me a camera and I took it with us and..." Tim trails off. "It's a stupid tradition, I know."
"Weird, but like not too weird," Jason says. "That doesn't explain how you went from photo-camera-christening with Dick's gob to surveillance in our bedroom."
"You happen to like my gob." Dick shoves at Jason's arm playfully.
Jason's expression turns impish, a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth smirk plastered over his face. "I happen to like your cock, too. It even rhymes, but it's still not the same."
"You're going to pay for that," Dick grunts under his breath.
Jason's grin widens further. "Promises, promises, Dicky."
"Wait a second." Dick ignores Jason and turns his attention back to Tim. "Tradition implies repetition, and I know you own quite a number of cameras. Have you always christened them with a photo of yours truly?"
"Yes," Tim admits quietly. He scrapes the empty plate in front of him with his spoon, pretending he's getting the last bit of dessert out. Anything not to have to look at Dick.
"How come I didn't know about this?" Dick asks. "Shouldn't I know about this?"
As if things couldn't get any worse. "You—" Tim stops and tries again. "I—"
Arkham breakout now, please. But when have rogues ever been that accommodating?
"You can't know," Tim finally admits. "You didn't know back in the circus that I was taking your picture, or when you were Robin and I was following you. You didn't know then either. The best pictures are when people don't know. If they know, then they do weird faces and weird smiles and weird poses. It's meant to look good and it does, but it's not... it's not them."
"You took pictures of Dick when he was Robin?" Jason asks, surprised. "How old were you? Two?"
"Nine," Tim corrects him, piqued.
"Duh," Dick says, "That's how he figured it out."
"Figure what out?" Jason asks.
"That Bruce was Batman." Dick stops abruptly. "No one told you?"
"Told me what?" Jason frowns.
"I used to follow Batman and Robin to take pictures," Tim says. He's not embarrassed about that. Besides, everyone knows. Everyone but Jason it seems. "I did it with Dick, but I did with you, too. Most of the ones I have are of you, actually. You as Robin… with Batman."
Thinking about it, there's no way for Jason to have known that. Things are better between them, but there's a tacit understanding that they don't talk about Jason's death, Tim's time as Robin, or Jason's first years as Red Hood. A minefield full of topics everyone likes to pretend don't exist.
"After you died," Tim goes on, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as Jason himself does when he speaks of his death, "Bruce lost it for a bit and—"
"I don't care. This has nothing to do with the present," Jason interrupts. Right, those minefields.
"Right, sorry," Tim says. "The point is, I like pictures best when people don't know I'm taking them."
Jason wiggles his forefinger at him. "Pretty sure stalking is against the law."
"Pretty sure killing is against the law, too," Tim snaps back. As if Jason has room to talk.
"I'm a reformed killer." Jason sounds absolutely unrepentant. "I haven't had a relapse in over two years. You, on the other hand, are a stalking stalker who still stalks, Peeping Tim."
"Jason!" Dick slaps his arm again.
"Ouch!" Jason rubs the skin dramatically.
"I wanted to take a picture of Dick in his home." Tim might as well come clean now. Then, he can go back to his place and feel miserable about ruining two of the best friendships he still had. "I thought it'd be nice. Dick is..."
Tim looks up and catches both Dick and Jason watching him. He swallows, and forces him to hold their gaze. "Dick was in the kitchen, doing dishes. I took my picture from the window. It was a good one. I should have left then. I was going to, but... Jason came into the kitchen with more dirty glasses. He put them on the counter and then he hugged you from behind. You turned and kissed him. And you two... it looked so beautiful. So natural. So perfect," Tim whispers the last bit.
He hadn't been able to stop himself. He took another picture, and another, and another. As if somehow he could capture the emotions with his camera. The desire. The love. They were so gorgeous together. They fit so well. Tim wanted to capture some of that love. Take it with him to watch later, when he needed the reminder that happiness existed. That it wasn't just a made-up-concept without any base on reality.
"I didn't leave when I should. I watched you two make out and then..." Tim blushes. "That day you..."
"Had sex in the kitchen," Dick finishes for him, seemingly unperturbed. "I think I remember that night."
"Yeah." Tim swallows. "I just—I know it’s fucked up, okay? You don't have to tell me. I know it was wrong. But I just—I liked watching. I'd never... before. I didn't know. I wasn't prepared for how much I would like it. I've watched porn before and it never did that to me. I couldn't stop myself. I've had sex before, and it didn't feel as intense, as perfect as watching you did." He looks away. "I know it's fucked up," he repeats.
"You must be the perfect museum visitor," Jason mocks, "all look and don't touch."
Tim startles. It's a thrown-off jab, meant as a joke but it resonates with Tim somehow. He can't help but wonder if it ties down to his parents taking him to museums and archeological exhibits the few times they were in Gotham. His mom making Tim promise not to touch anything or they wouldn't take him again and Tim knowing deep down, for as long as he can remember, that valuable things, pretty things are not meant to be touched. Just looked at.
This is really not the time to be pondering if his fucked-up childhood might or might not have fucked-up his adult life as well.
"I think I should go now." Just get it over with and leave.
"Don't," Dick says. "We need to discuss this."
"What's there to discuss?" Tim asks miserably. "What I did was wrong. I knew that and kept doing it anyway. There's a difference between taking one picture of you when you're not aware and..."
"Installing a bunch of cameras in our bedroom so that you can jerk off to watching us fuck?" Jason suggests with fake helpfulness when Tim trails off.
"Yes," Tim snaps, and the sighs, "Sorry." He has no right to be angry. He's the one in the wrong. "I'll move to New York," he offers. "For a while. I'll destroy the videos and—"
"What? No!" Dick protests. "No, to both. No New York and we want to watch the videos, too."
"Speak for yourself," Jason mumbles. "I don't want to watch them."
"But you will, because I want you to," Dick counters. "I want you to see how desperate you get, how pretty you beg for cock and pain and anything I want to give you."
Jason flushes beet red and looks down, embarrassed, but he doesn't protest. Jason... god, the things Jason lets Dick get away with. Tim's cock stirs a bit remembering them.
Tim doesn't know what to say. What does Dick want? "I'll give you the videos before I leave for New York. The Titans need me anyway and I—"
"You aren't leaving," Dick interrupts him.
Tim straightens without meaning to. It's hard to disobey Dick when he starts bossing people around. Jason is obviously not the only one who has trouble saying no.
"But I—" What does Dick want from him? "What do you want then? I overstepped. I want to make it right. I know I can't, but if there's something that I can do, I'll do it. Anything."
"What you did was wrong. Yes," Dick agrees. "But after I found out it was you behind the surveillance and after I got over my initial anger, I realized that I was a bit turned on, too." He shrugs, a little self-mocking smirk dancing on his lips. "What can I say? I've always been a bit of a showman. I like the idea of you watching me, watching us. And Jason," Dick grins turns downright evil, "Jason hates it. That only makes it better."
"It does?" Tim asks uncertainly. He knows they are into the whole BDSM thing. It made watching that much better, that much more irresistible. It got to Tim. Seeing the things Dick and Jason did together made him crave.
"Absolutely," Dick agrees. "My Little Wing hates to be put on display, and he hates that someone other than me has seen what a slut for cock he truly is."
"Shut up," Jason mumbles angrily.
"There's no need to front, Jay," Dick tells him condescendingly. "Tim has seen you."
Jason's face darkens and he refuses to meet Tim's eyes.
"Shit, you're turned on, too," Tim blurts before he can think better of it.
Jason shrinks on himself, and Dick laughs meanly. "Of course he is. I told you, he loves how much he hates it."
Tim's mind is working a mile a minute. He licks his lips, uncertain. "What—what is it you want then?" He asks Dick.
He's sure the two of them discussed this in advance. Probably where Tim's cameras couldn't see it. But for all that some of the things they do in bed are rough, Tim has also seen how carefully they negotiate everything first. If Dick is offering something—and Tim's getting the impression that he is—then Jason is on board.
Jason stands up abruptly. "I'll bring some water," he says and disappears into the kitchen, even though there's a pitcher of water still half full sitting on the table.
"Talking this out isn't really his forte," Dick comments, watching Jason go with a fond expression on his face.
"Uh…" Tim swallows nervously. "So... there's something to talk about?"
"There'll be conditions, of course," Dick says.
"Of course! Anything," Tim agrees. If there's even a remote chance to savage their friendship, Tim will take it.
"What you did is wrong, Tim," Dick says.
"I know. I know it's fucked up. I know," Tim whispers.
"Not the kink," Dick clarifies. "If you like to watch, you like to watch. That's nothing to feel ashamed for. But doing it without our permission? That's wrong."
"We do surveillance all the time," Tim points out weakly.
Dick arches a disbelieving eyebrow, and Tim shrinks in himself. Of course it's not the same. "Sorry. I... Yes, I know it's wrong. I won't do it again. I'll—Anything you want. Just tell me how I can make it better. If I can make it better."
Dick exhales. "I don't really believe in rewarding bad behavior, but... You're damned lucky that our kinks align. You discovered that you like to watch, and we discovered that we like to be watched. We didn't know it either, and truth be told, it's not something we would have indulged in with anyone. The level of trust that requires—"
"Did I break your trust?" Tim realizes that he did. Before it was just—He hadn't been thinking. Maybe because deep down he knew that if he stopped to think, he would have to admit to himself how wrong everything he was doing was.
"You did," Dick agrees, and Tim feels small and miserable. "But," Dick goes on, "It's not as though we haven't hurt and betrayed each other before. With or without intention. You and Jason. Me and you. Jason and me." Dick snorts. "What makes us us, is that we forgive each other. Even the things that shouldn't be forgivable. It's probably not healthy, but let's face it, if we wanted healthy we wouldn't be doing the superhero thing."
If that's not the truth. "What does that mean, then? In this context. You forgiving me, now or eventually. I understand if you need time."
"We want to invite you to join us," Dick says.
Tim gapes, taken aback. That isn't what he'd been expecting. But maybe he should have? Dick did say that he liked being watched and... "Oh, god," Tim whimpers, overwhelmed and turned on by the idea of still being able to watch them. Of being allowed to do it.
"Join you how?" Tim's voice comes out in a squeak. His head is spinning just imagining it. Dick can't be serious, can he? What if he is serious? He sounds serious.
"Is it the camera that does it for you? The videos? Or is it watching?" Dick sounds so natural, as if he's asking Tim what flavor of ice cream he wants to order.
"I don't know," Tim admits. "I tried really hard not to think too much about it."
Dick chuckles. "Another Jason, I see. Well, that's not gonna fly. If we do this, we do it right. Have you done any research on BDSM?"
"Some. Yes, I mean, I wasn't sure if you were hurting Jason. Well, obviously you were hurting him, but he seemed so happy afterwards and you... you talked things over and... Oh, this is talking things out in advance? With me?"
"Yes," Dick says. "Finally figured it out, did you?"
"Right." Tim swallows, and looks longingly to the kitchen. Maybe he can go help Jason get that water?
Dick sighs. "You don't have to say yes, if you don't want to, Tim."
"I want to!" The words are out before he can even think about them, his libido bypassing his rational mind with ease.
"You don't have to decide today. Take your time to think about it," Dick insists. "We just wanted to tell you that we know about the videos and would like for you to continue, but this time with all parties consenting first. Or is it the fact that we didn't know what got you hot?"
"No," Tim reassures him. "You not knowing made me feel terrible. Not terrible enough to stop obviously, but guilty and not in a good way. You really don't mind?"
"We mind the lying and would appreciate it if you didn’t do it again," Dick tells him. "But well, we were surprised about how much we didn't mind the rest of it."
"How did you and Jason...?" He makes a vague gesture with his hand, trying to encompass the whole BDSM thing. "Is it... How does anyone get into that?" It's something Tim has been curious about for a while.
"There are a lot of ways," Dick shrugs. "But for us it was more happenstance. We were investigating a human trafficking case. Young boys and girls being kidnapped on their way home, mostly in poor neighborhoods. Crime Alley in Gotham and all over Blüdhaven. Jason and I figured out that we were working the same case and joined efforts. The leads took us to a BDSM club in Blüdhaven and we went undercover."
Dick smiles, a wistful, fond expression brightening his face. "We were so over our heads. Spent a whole week fighting over who got to go as the Dom. Jason won. He fights dirty when he really wants something."
Tim frowns. "But Jason is your sub." Everything he's seen shows that.
"Absolutely." Dick chuckles. "Neither of us wanted to be the Dom. Jason because... That's his story to tell. But I didn't want to either. The idea of hurting him terrified me."
"You got over it," Tim says before he can think better of it.
Dick guffaws. "You could say that. I think one of the reasons it terrified me so much was because a part of me wanted it so badly and I couldn't admit it to myself."
Tim understands. "Yeah, I get that."
"Those were some of the best and worst weeks of my life," Dick admits. "It changed me. It changed us. We discovered things about ourselves that we hadn't known were there. Made some great friends, too. The traffickers were using the club to meet, but most of the club members didn't have anything to do with it. And they were so kind to us, so welcoming. Still, I wouldn't recommend working dangerous cases while you're having an existential crisis about your sexuality."
"An existential crisis?" Tim snorts.
"You try admitting to yourself that you get your rocks off by hurting others and humiliating and fucking them up physically, emotionally and mentally. And that the person you want to do it the most to is someone who a part of you still considers a brother. Believe me, it was an existential crisis alright. That realization challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that it was okay to like those things as long as I explored them with someone willing."
"Jason," Tim says.
"We are surprisingly kink compatible, or maybe not so surprisingly. Who knows?" Dick taps with his fingers on the table, fidgeting a bit. He's never been one for staying still too long.
"Anyway," he goes on, "we finished the mission and went our separate ways swearing never to talk about it again. I lasted nine weeks before I went back to the club. I just... I needed that particular release and knew I'd find people there who would help me scratch the itch. Imagine my surprise when I found Jason there. He'd become a regular, never stopped going after the mission finished. Jason might hate talking about stuff, and I have to force him more often than not to go through the negotiation and post-mortem for our scenes together, but he's always been braver than me when it comes to accepting the darker, more controversial parts of himself."
"Braver than most of us," Tim corrects.
"True enough." The look on Dick's face is totally smitten.
Tim can't help but smile back a little. "What is it that you want from me?" he dares to ask. The idea of joining them both excites and scares him, which just makes him crave it more. Tim has always loved the shot of adrenaline that comes from forcing himself to do things that terrify him.
"Little Wing," Dick calls, "bring me the papers, baby."
"Don't call me that," Jason shouts from the kitchen. He walks back into the dining room a moment later and slams some paper in front of Dick. He eyes Tim warily. "You're in then?"
"Yes." Tim doesn't know what they want exactly, but no matter what, the answer is always going to be yes.
"Good," Jason says. "I'm gonna read my book. Call me when you're done, Dickface." He disappears again.
Tim arches his eyebrows in surprise. His eyes dart back to Dick. "Shouldn't you be making him be more polite or something?"
"Only if I want a rubber bullet in my gut, and I don't," Dick says. "Those things are a nightmare."
"But he lets you...," Tim trails off and blushes. He shouldn't remind Dick of what he knows, because then Dick will remember why he knows.
"Your cameras were only in the bedroom," Dick points out. He's enjoying Tim's embarrassment. He's not even bothering to hide it. "We operate as equals outside of it. That works best for us. It'll apply to you too if you decide to join."
"Right," Tim gulps. "What does it mean? To join you?"
Dick pushes the papers towards him. "At first a bit of what you've been doing already, but this time you'll be in the room with us. Bring your favorite video of us over, and we'll watch it together while Jason sucks us off. Or if you'd rather only watch, then Jason sucks me off and you enjoy the double show."
Tim opens his mouth but no words come out. His heart is beating a mile a minute. His eyes dart to the papers and he sees words like 'bondage, pain, nipple play' and immediately looks away, face burning.
"I—I do want," he rasps out. "This list... are these things that you want me to do with you?"
"Depends on your answers. It's a list of potential things Jason and I would love to try, but also things we wouldn't mind doing, if you're into them. There might be some things in there that you don't feel comfortable trying, or maybe not comfortable enough yet. We can always revise it later if there's a later," Dick explains.
Tim watches Dick's face, trying to discern what the right answer needs to be to make sure there's a later. "Are there things that you want me to do?"
"Tim," Dick interrupts him, and his voice turns serious. "This isn't a test. There are no right or wrong answers. We can go through the list together and—"
"No!" Tim hurries to say. "I mean, I—" He can't do this with Dick watching him. He needs to do some research first. Proper research.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jason says, coming into the room. "You're over complicating everything."
"Weren't you reading a book?" Dick asks.
"I took pity on Timbers," Jason says, sitting down in front of him. "Bruce doesn't know how to talk, and you don't know how to shut up. It all adds to the same. Too much silence or too much noise, and yet nothing useful coming out of your mouth."
Tim inclines his head to hide his smile.
"Fine, then you do it." Dick crosses his arms and leans back.
Jason shrugs before he turns to Tim and narrows his eyes. "You were stealing food from our pantry and got caught. Instead of throwing you out and kicking your ass like we should have, we're inviting you to dinner. Because obviously you're starving and we're kind souls. And by kind I mean kinky. This is the fucking menu." He takes the papers from Dick and shoves them in Tim's direction. "Fucking in the literal sense," he adds with a grin. "Read it and tell us what you want to order. That's it."
"That's not it," Dick protests. "We have to explain to him—"
"He can do his own research. He's a Bat," Jason interrupts. "We did our research before going undercover. And yeah, reading about it isn’t the same, but I'm pretty sure Timbers would rather come at this knowing the basics. Do the work," he tells Tim, "and when you're done and ready to ask questions, invite us to dinner."
"I don't know how to cook," Tim says feebly.
Jason rolls his eyes. "You're a loaded, Timbo, get a catering company or order take-away. Who cares? If you want this, you gotta work for it. And I'm not talking about food. It's an offer. You get to say no, which for the record, is more of a courtesy than anything you gave us. We sure as hell didn't get the chance to say no to your peeping ways."
"I know, and I'm sorry," Tim says.
"No, you're not. And if this goes the way we think it will, you're certainly not gonna be sorry any time soon. You're just lucky that Dick likes performing for an audience. What a surprise. Not."
"You like the idea, too," Dick defends himself.
"I hate the idea," Jason says. "Which is why we're doing it, I suppose, so you don't hear me complaining."
"That sounded like a complaint to me," Dick mumbles.
"Your life is a complaint," Jason snaps back. "Anyway, if you want Dick to over explain everything then I'm sure he'll be happy to do it. He loves to hear himself talk."
"I don't!" Dick protests, which is a lie. Jason isn't wrong.
"It's okay," Tim says, before the bickering gets worse. "I'd prefer to look at it by myself at first."
"Told ya," Jason sing-songs.
Tim and Dick both glare at him, and Jason's grin turns smugger.
Tim rolls his eyes and sighs. "Fine, yes, you're right. Don't let it get to your head or it won't fit inside your helmet. I'll look at it and then we can--Uh... have another dinner?"
"Whatever you prefer, Tim," Dick says. "But if we're done with this, it's time for me to beat your ass at Mario Kart."
"In your dreams," Tim shoots back automatically.
"And I'm out," Jason excuses himself. He's never been one for video games, much preferring to read a book while they play.
"You're missing out," Dick says.
"I'm so not," Jason says, and stands up. He hovers around, picking up the empty dishes, while Dick goes to set up the Nintendo. When Dick is out of ear shot, he leans over Tim and whispers in his ear. "You know how Dick said there's no right answer? He's lying. Twenty-three is definitely the winning ticket." He straightens, winks at Tim and leaves.
Tim swallows and looks at the papers nervously. He checks on Dick, who is still fumbling with the Nintendo. The papers contain a table with a list of kinks that goes on for over four pages. There are three empty columns with the titles Experience yes/no, Willingness to try No=0, Yes=5, and then Notes.
His eyes scan down the list, and his face reddens while he reads the words. Twenty-three is erotic photography. Tim's cock hardens so fast it's actually painful.
Jason is probably just messing with him. But oh, Tim wants. The idea of being able to get the right angles while Dick fucks Jason, the perfect lighting, the expressions on their faces. Tim didn't know how much he wanted that. The videos were okay, but the cameras were hidden and the angles weren't good. Besides, videos aren't the same thing as a proper photo. It takes skill to find the perfect moment and capture it forever, immortalizing it. The true challenge of photography. The art of it. Tim loves it.
"Saw something you like?" Dick asks and Tim jumps, caught by surprise.
He stares at Dick like a deer caught in headlights and shoves the papers away. "Yes, no, I mean, yes."
Dick's face brightens with amusement. "Got it," he grins. "Well, be sure to mark it down. Come on, let's play. You keep thinking about that list while I trash you."
Dick probably will trash him if Tim can't get his head away from the idea of photographing Jason and Dick in the bedroom. "Please, I can beat you at Mario Kart with one hand tied behind my back. Get ready to bite the dust."
"I'm getting ready to bite something alright," he says, and leers at Tim.
Oh, Dick is going to be impossible. He's seen Dick around some of his exes or even his currents. He loves to flirt and tease. And now that he feels he has permission to do it with Tim, he's not going to stop. Tim isn't sure if he can survive it, or if his Mario Kart winning streak will.
But, he's a Bat, like Jason said. He's good against impossible odds. And, maybe losing isn't something he would mind too much, when he has so much to gain, too.