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Livejournal was officially a thing of evil. It was a fucking wonder she hadn't broken the laptop, honestly; her phone was off and buried under a pile of laundry on the floor. That had to be what Bruce had used to film it; it was the only thing at that angle. And Tim was on her bed, turning a Rubik's cube in her hands continuously, only sometimes paying attention to it.
The worst part about all of this, though, the absolute worst part? Tim was still a girl. She was still down one Y-chromosome, she still couldn't go out on patrol, and when she'd tried to work off the fury, she'd actually hurt herself. This body had not trained for years, and though she still knew every skill, form, and martial art she'd known as a boy, she couldn't do half of it without the physical conditioning. It was maddening.
She retreated - with an icepack on her shoulder - to her room, still frustrated, but mostly brooding. Upset just sounded too feminine to deal with right now. It was entirely sexist, but Tim could worry about that later. She'd gotten drunk. She'd let Tony kiss her - sort of - and she'd kissed Nygma. Not was kissed, initiated it. Her hands tightened on the cube, turning it faster. Blue, orange, blue, blue, white. Turn. White, white, green, red. Turn - fuck. She was holding it so tight it was getting hard to actually turn.
Closing her eyes, Tim's grip slacked and she rolled onto her side, holding it on the bed beside her. So Eris was a liar, Eddie just kept talking about it, even if it was embarrassment, and Bruce was disappointed in her. He wasn't her Bruce, and it was obvious that he didn't understand - well - a lot. But he was still Bruce Wayne, and for whatever reason - no, not whatever reason, it was because Tim had talked to him, he wasn't just a random multiversal double - his opinion still mattered. Hearing him tell her flat out that he was disappointed was only slightly worse than him telling Dick that Tim had been over estimated.
Her stomach rolled and she pressed her face into the pillow under her head. She was still glad she'd hacked into their talk; at least, she was still telling herself she was glad. It was better than not knowing exactly what he thought of her.
The only upside to this - maybe, she thought, maybe - was Dick's 180 defense. But she didn't want to read too far into that.
The worst part about all of this, though, the absolute worst part? Tim was still a girl. She was still down one Y-chromosome, she still couldn't go out on patrol, and when she'd tried to work off the fury, she'd actually hurt herself. This body had not trained for years, and though she still knew every skill, form, and martial art she'd known as a boy, she couldn't do half of it without the physical conditioning. It was maddening.
She retreated - with an icepack on her shoulder - to her room, still frustrated, but mostly brooding. Upset just sounded too feminine to deal with right now. It was entirely sexist, but Tim could worry about that later. She'd gotten drunk. She'd let Tony kiss her - sort of - and she'd kissed Nygma. Not was kissed, initiated it. Her hands tightened on the cube, turning it faster. Blue, orange, blue, blue, white. Turn. White, white, green, red. Turn - fuck. She was holding it so tight it was getting hard to actually turn.
Closing her eyes, Tim's grip slacked and she rolled onto her side, holding it on the bed beside her. So Eris was a liar, Eddie just kept talking about it, even if it was embarrassment, and Bruce was disappointed in her. He wasn't her Bruce, and it was obvious that he didn't understand - well - a lot. But he was still Bruce Wayne, and for whatever reason - no, not whatever reason, it was because Tim had talked to him, he wasn't just a random multiversal double - his opinion still mattered. Hearing him tell her flat out that he was disappointed was only slightly worse than him telling Dick that Tim had been over estimated.
Her stomach rolled and she pressed her face into the pillow under her head. She was still glad she'd hacked into their talk; at least, she was still telling herself she was glad. It was better than not knowing exactly what he thought of her.
The only upside to this - maybe, she thought, maybe - was Dick's 180 defense. But she didn't want to read too far into that.
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