[Tim doesn't expect words from Jason - not about this. Sure, he's mouthy when he wants to be - they both are, that's part of what you're trained for as a Robin, to chatter and distract - but talking about feelings? Well, they both learned about that from Bruce, too - how not to talk about feelings, how to shove them into a dark corner and try to forget they exist. Tim's not drunk, not even close, but maybe the small amount of alcohol he's had to drink is what finally helped loosen his tongue enough to tell Jason the hidden truths he's been holding onto for years.
He doesn't need Jason's words, not when he's got Jason's mouth on his, pushing hard and fast for more, showing Tim what Jason can't say - that he's wanted, too, that this isn't some one-sided infatuation destined to go nowhere, that Tim isn't just some dumb kid with an awkward crush on his predecessor. Tim's jaw relaxes; his mouth opens to let Jason in further still. A quiet sound muffles into Jason's mouth, wordless but meaning yes and finally and more all the same. Fingers slip through Jason's belt loop, into the hair at the back of his head. Tim pulls Jason in as close to him as he can, backing up against the table behind him, no care given to whether the force rattles the glasses or knocks over the bottle of rum. Jason is the only thing Tim cares about at the moment, the taste and the warmth and the weight of him, the old bar smell that surrounds him, the pinch of his teeth on his lip, everything. Tim would gladly drown himself in Jason if he could. He's been waiting so long.]
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He doesn't need Jason's words, not when he's got Jason's mouth on his, pushing hard and fast for more, showing Tim what Jason can't say - that he's wanted, too, that this isn't some one-sided infatuation destined to go nowhere, that Tim isn't just some dumb kid with an awkward crush on his predecessor. Tim's jaw relaxes; his mouth opens to let Jason in further still. A quiet sound muffles into Jason's mouth, wordless but meaning yes and finally and more all the same. Fingers slip through Jason's belt loop, into the hair at the back of his head. Tim pulls Jason in as close to him as he can, backing up against the table behind him, no care given to whether the force rattles the glasses or knocks over the bottle of rum. Jason is the only thing Tim cares about at the moment, the taste and the warmth and the weight of him, the old bar smell that surrounds him, the pinch of his teeth on his lip, everything. Tim would gladly drown himself in Jason if he could. He's been waiting so long.]