#looks like my fic accidentally became an xmas fic

[chronicbatfictioner]

Fast Car - Chapter 15

"I didn't want to be a bother, Mr Wayne, really."

Today, Jason was the one woken up to the sound of people talking. He did not, he'd swear, jump out of bed and/or stumble out of it to peek out of the bedroom door. He did, however, as to admit to having shrieked to find Dick's face just as he opened the bedroom door just a crack wider. Only because there was no way to deny it when both Bruce and Tim's head swiveled right toward him as he shrieked.

"Oh hi, good morning, sleepyhead!" Dick crowed. Sonofagun actually beamed at him. "We've been here a while! Guess you got that right when you said you sleep like a log."

"I did not sleep like a log." Jason growled. "You're here at buttcrack of dawn. Why."

"It's 9.40, and tomorrow is the Christmas Parade, and Bruce wanted to check on the limo, just in case. Also wanted to check on how you're doing, and Alfred's bringing you some English Breakfast; and then check on Tim because we found the lab locked and closed and dark." Dick explained, half-dragging Jason toward the kitchen. Thankfully, Dick has paid good sized attention when Jason was living at the Manor's ground, and shoved a good sized mug of coffee into his hands before Jason could maybe tear his cheerful head off.

A good gulp later, Jason felt human enough to turn around and face the big boss. And Tim, although he'd come to conclusion years ago that he doesn't have to look and/or act human and/or civilized to face Tim.

"Bruce..." he greeted. Bruce's face was a little smug, but the dip between his forehead signaling concern was visible even all the way from the kitchen area. "I'll work on it today, don't worry. You'll be warm and toasty for the parade."

"Oh, hi, Jason. Yeah, thanks for that. But that's not why I'm here, actually." Bruce said.

Belatedly Jason remembered that Bruce was Tim's actual boss, and they would have known each other for a while.

"Oh, the lab. Yeah, Conner and Bart said they're going home for the holiday weekend." Jason said, taking a seat next to Tim on the couch.

"So Tim has told me. He'd also told me you have convinced him to not work through the holidays." Bruce's smile was wistful. "I'm impressed you managed to do that. I've tried on Thanksgiving--"

"We've even invited him to the Manor, and he's just like, 'okay five more minutes', and just never showed." Dick added.

Jason winced inwardly. If Tim had come on Thanksgiving, he would have seen Jason there, at the Manor. Boy was he glad Tim hadn't come.

He instinctively reached over and squeezed Tim's nape. "Yeah, well..." he shrugged. Tim was a little tense. He probably didn't even realize that Dick was there a few days ago when he'd crashed from his caffeine OD.

"Anyway, I've... we've been talking about his affliction. I thought it might be prudent to inform you that Wayne Enterprises have the device that... was made for this issue, specifically." Bruce started. "Might even be interesting to know that Tim had created said device, and it is going through its clinical trial phase as we speak."

Alfred's English breakfast might or might not gone cold as Bruce explained, but Jason nibbled on the sausages as they were shoved to his face by Dick periodically.

Grieving, evidently, was a 'specialty' for Bruce Wayne. He had never stopped grieving his parents' death for over 20 years now. Having even broken through into and out of the clinical depression stage himself, he understood it well - the chemistry of it, if anything else.

WayneTech, not to Jason's surprise, has been supportive of Tim's latest invention, even if Tim himself didn't notice it. They have been developing a device that would be used much like an automatic insulin pump, only this device would be much smaller - as in patch-sized smaller, and more electronically connected.

The general theory was simple: all participants would do a daily hormone check - kind of like thumb-prick diabetes check, using the device Tim invented. It would measure their levels of stress hormones, which results are linked to their cellphones or their caretaker's. The gadget would then receive the command to release other hormones to balance the stress hormones through a patch on the patient's skin. The patch - also Tim's idea - would release a cocktail of other hormones to the bloodstream that would balance the whole hormonal spectrum.

Tim would get a spot in one of the clinical trials, under Jason's argument that ethically, Tim should know if it works or not for his own case. Dr Leslie Thompkins would gather the other clinical trial participants, and the progress would be recorded by her. Mr Wayne had stood for the project; ready to hide others' - i.e. Tim's and his team members' - names if it failed, or publicize them when it succeeded.

By the end of Bruce's explanation, Jason was fervently hoping and praying for the latter, for sure. Not just for Tim's sake, but also for others who had faced the same problem and conventional medicines just never made a difference. Jason couldn't figure out the finer details like how one type of patch would accommodate like, a hundred people. Or if Tim was receiving a placebo instead of the real thing.

All he knew was that after a short three months of development, thanks to Bruce Wayne's influence and - this one had come as a surprise for Jason - Jack Drake's, Tim's father, name; they are currently doing a double-blind clinical trial, which Tim explained as having one set of people who'd get the real thing, one set of people who'd get the placebo, and one set of people who'd get alternating real thing and placebo. It should take a year, at least, for the clinical trials to be calculated and whatnot.

A year, Jason thought, at least a whole year before he would have to deal again with what ails Tim. A year, hopefully, of respite for Tim.

"When do we start?" he asked excitedly.

Bruce waved a hand toward Tim. "Once he signed his agreement, by all means. Knowing Leslie, she would probably want it started the instant Tim appears in her office." he smirked.

Jason looked at Tim, tense under his hand. "And your objection would be...?" he baited.

Tim gulped. "Uh... being included-- me being included would be ethically wrong. As well as taking a spot from others who might need it more than I do." he reasoned.

From across the couch, Jason couldn't miss Dick's glare if he'd tried. "Okay," he said. He could go through the 'it's your right, Tim,' route; or 'you know that's an excuse, right?' to argue Tim out of his mindset. But he has known Tim for long enough to know that Tim would have lengthy arguments against those starters. Instead, he said, "you said you wanted me to be happy, right, Timmers?"

Tim cocked an eyebrow at him, not expecting the opening. "Wha-- what are you doing?"

"Please answer the question." Jason said calmly, Tim would not be able to see this one coming.

"Yes," he replied quietly.

"I would like to help you get help, so that you can keep making me happy." Jason stated, staring Tim right in the eyes. Tim fidgeted. "If you don't do this, if you don't take the spot, I know you would be hurt again, and that makes me unhappy, Tim.

"I know what you planned to do if I hadn't come back. Just to let you know, if you ever get to that state of mind again and do your plan, I'll--" Jason gritted his teeth hard enough that he felt it in his gums. "I'll burn the house down and leave its carcass right there. I won't even try to be happy anymore, because Timmers, I'm happy when you are. I'm happy when I'm with you.

"And that concludes the sappy part of my reason for wanting you to be in the clinical trial. Here's the logical part: you created the device, right? If you say it's ethically wrong, I'd say it's even more ethically wrong if you don't participate. Like, if you're a chef, how is it ethical if you create a food if you won't eat? How is it ethical if - say, when the Wright brothers created a plane and they made someone else fly it?

"How can you fix your invention if you don't know how it feels? How can you predict a reaction based on someone else's description?-- let alone someone who has less intellects than you do and don't understand the components of your invention?" Jason concluded.

Tim was staring at him, blinking slowly, digesting the thoughts. Jason initially thought that he would focus on the latter, the logical reasoning. The small tremble of his hands as he fidgeted, however, gave away something else.

"You're happy with me?" he asked quietly. "Jason, are you happy?"

Jason nodded solemnly. "I am. It's not like, a constant state of happy. But I'm hoping I'll be able to work on it with you, to make it a constant happiness for both of us." he replied.

"If there's anything I know well, Tim, is that one cannot be happy on one's own." Bruce added.

"I second that," Dick quipped from somewhere near the window. When did he move there, Jason couldn't even tell.

"Stop ganging up on my boy, you two. Let him think this through." Jason snarled, but without much heat because he realized that if he'd sounded angry, Tim would clam up.

Tim was quiet again for a long time, until he turned to Bruce. "You have the paperwork with you, don't you?"

"I might have prepared something when Jason told me of your... affliction." Bruce said.

Tim screwed his eyes shut, and suddenly careened to the side, burrowing his entire self between Jason's side and the couch's back. Jason enveloped his arms around Tim, signaling at Dick to stay quiet as the latter opened his mouth. Dick smirked, but nodded. Bruce quietly drew out some papers from his briefcase and gave it to Jason. It was a standard contract, Jason noticed. Even the small prints were standard - disclaimers and indemnifying points etc.

"Should he get a lawyer before signing this? If - that is." Jason promptly tacked the correction.

As sudden as his burrowing, Tim sat back up, scoffed at the paper. "I don't need a lawyer, I wrote that thing." he said. He opened his hand, and Bruce placed a pen on it. He signed in several places, and handed it to Jason. "You're the caretaker. It's required that the subjects have a form of caretaking - spouses, boyfriend or girlfriend, manager, actual nurse, whatever. But they're required. You're it for me." he told Jason.

"Okay," Jason obliged, keeping his voice level as he accepted the pen and signed where Tim showed him. Questions later, he thought. Right now, all that mattered is that Tim has conceded to accept a treatment. "Okay, Timmers, now you can't get rid of me if you'd tried." he grinned mischievously at Tim, trying to lighten up the situation.

Tim was still glaring at Jason wistfully. "I'm not gonna. Ever. I believed you, Jay." he said. "I believed you when you said you'll get me out, didn't I? I believed you, when you said you'll help me fix us. Fix me. I believe you." his lower lips started to tremble as he blinked owlishly.

Jason nodded sagely and wound his arms around Tim's shoulders. "I believe you," he whispered. "Together, yeah?"

Tim nodded, and Jason ignored the wet warmth that seeped through his shirt.

"Alright," Dick remarked, breaking the reverie. "Now that it's all settled and we've done the whole emotional nine yards, do we want pizza for lunch or Chinese?"

Jason scowled jokingly at him as Dick grinned unrepentantly. But even Jason has to admit that when it comes to thawing uncomfortable situations, Dick seemed to be an expert at it.

"Well," Bruce spoke up, collecting the signed papers. "I, for once, will work to earn my living by handing these to Lucius to record and put into effects immediately. You boys feel free to hang out or whatever it is you wish to do for the rest of the day. Dick, don't forget you've placed Damian in the garage, and he is not ever, not now, not until he's 18, drive any of my car." he got up and started to leave. "I'm proud of your decision, Tim." he added, squeezing Tim's shoulder. Then he turned to Jason, "I know I didn't make a mistake with you, Jason, but hey, it's always nice to see one's expectation surpassed."

"He meant he's proud of you, too, only in a more flowery sentence." Dick quipped. "Okay, shoo. Go away. This is a day for no-parent." he added, physically shooing Bruce out of the loft. "Now," he said, coming back to the living room. "Pizza or Chinese?"

"It's not even eleven, Dick." Jason reminded.

"I like to be prepared. Besides, it's almost the holidays. Like officially. We might have to hunt for pizza!"

"Damian is in the garage? Why?" Tim wanted to know, a little late in registering the information. With all of the emotional stimulation he's had in the past hour, Jason could understand.

"Oh, heh. I know you two are like cats and dogs, but somehow, Damian liked Jason." Dick told him, smirking.

"Jason is mine." Tim snapped, glaring at Dick with one eyebrow cocked. "And isn't Damian like, ten?"

"Twelve. But no, not like that. He seemed to think Jason has-- how did he say it, Jay?"

"I seemed to have 'quite a penchant for mechanical repairs without shedding too much liquid, Todd,'" Jason quoted. "Apparently, when Bruce and Dick taught him how to change a car's oil, they spilled like, half the oil on him."

Dick's faux-innocent face didn't fool Jason much when he declared, "it was an accident!"

"Even I know how to change oil without spilling them, Dick..." Tim scoffed. "Chinese."

"Ten minutes delay." Dick muttered under his breath. Jason snorted a laugh."What?"

"You get used to it." He said, tugging Tim back onto his side and gathered Tim up closer to him. "Just give him some quiet time to sort things out, he'll stop lagging."

Dick actually nodded seriously. "Actually, I know. I've seen it a lot." he said. "I'm gonna make me some chocolate. I hope you guys have some kind of thermos or something, because the garage is freezing."

"The second cupboard above the sink - to the right," Jason directed.

"We gonna go to the garage?" Tim asked, his voice small and muffled from where his face was pressed against Jason's chest.

"You don't want to?"

"No, I'm okay. Just asking." Tim said. "I'm not allowed to work today. How come you are?"

"Because, babe, mine is the kind that gets done in an hour." Jason said, tickling Tim's side lightly. "Come on, I'm scared Dick would destroy our kitchen!" he prodded when he could feel Tim's suppressed giggles. "Then we work and play a little, or maybe work and play a lot."