Littlewing and Babybird

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It was a typical night at Tim's apartment.

The bird in question was typing away on his laptop, dressed in Red Robin regalia (minus the cowl). He had roughly fifty different tabs open and was alternating between them. As to how he could remember what they all were was anyone's guess.

His face was gaunt and pale, huge dark circles accented under his eyes. Everything about him oozed exhaustion.

What else was new?

The former Robin paused in typing up his  report, rubbing his eyes with his left hand and reaching for his coffee mug with the right. He tipped it, but nothing entered his mouth. It was bone dry.

Once again, he had drank it all in a single swallow as soon as he had refilled the cup.

He had tried making coffee with Red Bull instead of water in the hopes that it would make the rush last longer. It really didn't do anything but for a few minutes he could swear he saw sounds. However, the caffeine crash was nigh, and he still had hours worth of things to do.

'Wayne Enterprises, patrol, Teen Titans, patrol, the missing people in London, patrol.'

His head was pounding with a stress and caffeine hangover migraine and all he wanted to do was take a nap. Maybe he could just close his eyes for a second. . . .

Tim jolted awake at a loud crash. He looked at the closest clock to check the time. It took a few seconds for the four images to line up, but he figured out he'd been resting for ten minutes. Well, that was enough of a nap. It was time to keep working.

He stretched, instantly regretting it, and went back to staring at his laptop screen.

The fact he didn't even notice Jason practically breathing down his neck was a testament to his exhaustion.

"Hey, Babybird."

Tim literally jumped out of his seat, and only a large hand on his shoulder kept him from falling.

"Christ you're jumpy."

Tim moved his head to look at his older brother. He was still in his costume, his red helmet under his arm. His hair was messy, like always, the white streak contrasting sharply against the black.

"Oh. Hey, Jay. What are doing here?"

The first thing Jason noticed was how tired Tim looked. A foreign feeling rose up in his chest. Worry? Concern? He pushed it away as best as he could and replaced it with snark.

"I visit occasionally. Usually when you aren't here. "

At Tim's blank look, the elder raised an eyebrow. "Well, Tiny Tim, what is it that you're doing that requires more of your attention that your own dear big brother?"

"Oh, just work." Tim gestured in the general direction of the computer screen.

Jason leaned in, one hand braced against the teen and the other on the desk. He whistled a single low note at the sight of all the tabs.

" Geez, when were you planning on going to sleep?" He asked, leaning back again.

Tim shrugged, letting out a noncommittal murmur, and turned back to continue typing.

Normally Jason would leave to go take a shower at his place, but there was something off about Tim. "So, how long have you been up?"

Tim's fingers slowed on the keyboard as his brain caught the question. It too him twenty seconds before he finally answered.

"One hundred and fifty two hours, ten minutes, and thirteen seconds."

Jason frowned at him.

Now, it wasn't uncommon for Tim to be up for a few days at a time, surviving off protein bars and coffee, but this was a whole new level. Six days was too much for anyone. It took a second, but he eventually managed to pull himself together.