If you are at all religious and offended by me not knowing jack diddly squat about confession, please don't read this. I just found out that in Flashpoint, Jason Todd's a cute, awesome priest. I couldn't not do something with it. This is probably going to turn into a series... ALSO. SORRY. ABOUT NOT UPDATING. I'VE BEEN BUSY. BUT. IT'S LATE AND I WANTED TO WRITE THIS. Sorry, again, if this offends. :C

"I have a confession, Father." The voice is quiet, quieter than even normal confessions warrant. It is the sound of a voice forcing its way between the wood to Jason Todd's ears. His palms tingle with sweat, the weight behind Timothy Drake's words belying the volume as which they are spoken. The small, wooden box shakes a little as Tim lightly presses the toe of his shoe against the wall opposite his feet. It has been a habit of his since he joined Jason's parish.

"Speak, my child," Jason replies. It is all he can do to keep his voice even. In the silence he can picture Tim chewing gently on his lower lip (a bad habit of his) and fidgeting with his iPod that is almost certainly in his lap, with the earbud cord wrapped neatly around the music device.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," Tim says. Jason can picture him wringing his hands on the other side of the screen. "I." There is a pause. "I am... I am in..." Another pause. "I'm in love with a holy man, help me please," and the words all rush out quiet and harsh.

And they both know what he means, what his words imply. It has been hovering between them for weeks, maybe months—Lord Almighty when did I first notice—and there is nothing Jason can say about it. He needs to tell Tim to say some Hail Marys. He needs to tell Tim to say some Our Fathers. He needs to give Tim some sort of forgiveness for this confession. But that would be hypocrisy. Jason isn't even sure that God has forgiven him for this transgression.

It would make sense if He has chosen not to forgive Jason for this. Jason would understand.

The silence has settled and stretched between them to the point where Jason is now unsure what to say. Tim has confessed to something that has gone unsaid—that has been ignored . What should Jason say? He is Tim's spiritual advisor, and this is wrong. Wrongwrongwrong. It is wrong because there is something more than just lust here. Lust is ignorable, a sin to pray for forgiveness for. Jason cannot bring himself to ask forgiveness for love.

"It is appropriate," Jason taps his index fingers together, "for the priest to confess that he is also in love. With one of his parishioners."

There is a sharp intake of breath. Jason can practically see Tim's teeth digging into his lip, almost enough to draw blood. It is a truly bad habit.

"What do we do?" Tim's voice is a little stronger. Scared. Hopeful.

"We will," Jason gets out of the confessional as Tim follows suit, "cross that bridge when we come to it." He tugs Tim to him by his sweatshirt, bringing their lips together more forcefully than intended. Tim doesn't seem to mind, his iPod dropping to the floor between them, the small sound echoing in the empty church as Tim clutches at the fabric of his clergyman's clothes.

"I love you," Tim whispers on borrowed breath.

"I love you too." And they kiss again. These words, so long unspoken, are a drug. Another sin on his growing list.

I am a sinner, Father Jason Todd thinks as Tim runs his fingers through his hair, sending chills down his spine. Lord, forgive me not my transgression. Forgive instead my lack of regret.