Tim always thought of himself as being a good kid.

He got good grades in school, played nice with the other kids, so why was he in Arkham? Arkham was a place for psychopathic villains and loons who think their goldfish can talk.

It wasn't a place for good little boys who said their prayers and never lied to their parents. Then again, he couldn't say he was a good kid anymore.

For as long as Tim Drake could remember, he looked up to the original Robins. They were the epitome of good kids!

They were the ideal he wanted to grow up to be. Dick Grayson was the kind older brother that everyone wanted, even if he was rarely in Gotham. He always had good advice and helped whenever he could.

However, Tim didn't know much about the second Robin.

Sure, he had seen the glass case and he heard the story of how he died. But what was he like when he was alive? Was Jason strong? Did he lie awake at night, afraid of failure? Even when he asked, he received little more than grumbles before the subject was abruptly changed.

Confusion was an understatement when he saw the formerly dead Robin in the flesh. Whatever he was expecting, the gun-slinging hellion wasn't it. Gone forever was the image of a tragic Robin looking for redemption.

Jason had become the iconic bad-boy that all parents warned their daughters about. He shrugged off wounds and wore tight jeans like a second skin. He was strong, confidant, and knew what he wanted in life.

And like the naïve dolt he was, the third Robin was in the sterile visiting room of Arkham Asylum. No one there batted an eye when the boy wonder asked for a private session with a dangerous criminal.

The vigilante was handcuffed to the chair, but both of them knew the restraints would be on the floor before they were finished.

Tim was against a wall across from him and more than a little nervous. He was taking a huge risk by simply by being here and he didn't want to think about what would happen if Bruce found out.

The older man seemed different from the last time they spoke, or rather the last time Jason had his hands around the younger's neck. "You're probably wondering why I asked you here…" Tim started, before a pair of handcuffs clattered against the floor.

Jason raised a cigarette to his lips and sneered "…and I wonder why you decided to show up. Alone, for fuck's sake." There was a sense of disbelief in his voice that was out of place. "It's not like I haven't tried to kill you a couple dozen times."

The boy brushed off the sting and kept going. "We shouldn't be fighting like this, I mean, we're both trying to save Gotham. We should be on the same side."

In an instant, Jason's already foul mood darkened. He was walking on thin ice and it was only going to get worse. "Jesus Christ! Is Bruce such a coward that he'd send you here to-?"

"I'm here because I want this damn war to stop!" The boy yelled, exasperated. "You were a Robin once. You shouldn't be here, not like this." He made a small shrieking noise from the back of his throat. Please God, not now…

Jason let the boy compose himself, watching the emotional display in stunned silence. His mind was scrambling to understand the kindness shown by an enemy. Was the kid going to cry?

"I shouldn't be the first one to say that I missed you, and that I'm glad you came back." Robin resisted the urge to touch his eyes and let his mask hide what he really wanted to say. The forbidden words always came painfully close every time he spoke to him. He felt naked and transparent, like his heart was beating for all to see.

After a silence that seemed to last forever, the older vigilante asked a strange question "…Your name is Tim Drake right?"

He nodded and didn't utter a word of protest when Jason crossed the room. The distance between them could be measured in inches and miles. Tim was pinned to the wall and was sure the man could feel his legs shaking through his clothes. He was so small and young. Jason could take anything, do anything, and there would be no resistance.

The second Robin slowly peeled off the boy's mask, gently taking Tim's face in hands as rough as sandpaper. "I want to see your eyes." Jason asked and assured "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you anymore."

Tim looked up sheepishly, shaded blue eyes brave enough to meet stormy green. Softly saying "I know" Jason unconsciously wetted his lips and took the boy's first kiss.

It was gentler than he expected, but the taste of need and loneliness was unmistakable.

Gloved hands gripped broad shoulders as he moaned in pleasure, afraid to lose the connection he ached for. A warm, hot tongue massaged his own. Tim body was betraying him, he wanted too much too quickly. He clung to the heat in front of him and arched away from the cold, unforgiving stone. He desperately needed to cool down but couldn't bring himself to let go.

Jason sensed something was off and pulled away reluctantly. A rosy blush had grown over the boy's face, his skin burning to the touch. He saw the way Tim caressed the spandex material covering his thighs, barely allowing his fingertips to touch sensitive skin before looking away in embarrassment.

He felt dirty for eliciting these feelings in a child, and the feeling grew tenfold for liking it. "You should go home, before someone notices you're gone." He acted like he didn't know and took his hands off Tim's hips, disturbed that they were there at all. The kid couldn't be more than sixteen. Fuck, this was wrong on so many levels.

Tim nodded and was grateful for the save. He was still high off the lip-lock and refused to come down anytime soon. He fixed his tousled hair while Jason returned to his position as the restrained prisoner. There were a lot of questions hanging in the air, like whether or not this was a one-time thing.

Robin had his hand on the doorknob and his heart jumped in his chest when he heard the vigilante talk. "You forgot your mask." He said simply, holding the domino mask between his fingers. Tim reached out to take it back when Jason took the opportunity to lace their fingers and say "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Robin blushed and said "Sure" before flitting off into what's left of the night.

"Hm…" Jason picked up what was left of his cigarette off the floor, relighting it with a silver lighter. He drew a deep breath and the smoke warmed his chest. He let it go and watched the white smoke drift away. "He's kinda cute when he smiles."