#THANK YOU WINION YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I LOVE SHARING THINGS

[ikiprian]

Wanna share ur epic cool WIPS?

-Winion✌🏽

OH BOY, DO I!!! MISMENTOR AU BE UPON THEE

“Hey, Mr. Fenton,” Tim says. He makes some snap judgments based on Fenton’s personality and previous interactions he’s seen him have with students, then holds out the blanket, expression aiming for appropriately sheepish as opposed to dead guilty, which will be more fitting a role when he gets to English late. “Sorry I passed out back there. I promise it won’t happen again, I was just up late and then I couldn’t fall asleep and, y’know, my brother’s dog--”

“Oh absolutely, you’re not in trouble or anything. Don’t worry about it,” Fenton says. He opens the largest drawer in his massive desk to tuck the blanket away-- Tim spots at least two hoodies, a massive first aid kit, a box of granola, stress balls, fidget toys-- and shuts it. “But I do wanna ask if everything’s okay. This is, if I’m counting right, the third time in three weeks you’ve fallen asleep.”

Tim freezes. Yikes.

“I didn’t wanna say anything the other times,” Fenton continues, “but it is a pattern, now, and I wanna make sure you’re getting everything you need.”

“I am,” Tim’s quick to say. I am, I’m just also moonlighting as a vigilante and have three cases to juggle ATM. I am, I’m just also trying to organize my teen superhero team into a potential reunification party. I am, I’m just also filling my time chasing some new meta kid around Gotham to make sure he’s not a villain. He takes a breath.

A dozen pre-planned, civilian-friendly excuses shuffle in his head, and he picks the one that makes the most sense. “I just-- y’know. I’m having trouble adjusting to academic life again, I think. I took that break studying abroad, and then I worked full time, and I had all that freedom, and now…”

Fenton nods. “Oh, yeah. I remember being a teenager.” God, Tim loves it when people reinforce his excuses for him. “Well, if you ever need anything, let me know, okay? And try to prioritize sleep in your schedule. Here, let me show you a trick…”

Fenton opens his phone, his comically large fingers tapping away at the tiny screen, and pulls up a little website. In some ways, his brick-shithouse build is intimidating. Tim’s surprised he’s found a career in the classroom, and not as a bouncer at a nightclub.