Damsel | T. Drake ✔

[11]

When Tim woke up the next morning, his head was throbbing as if someone had repeatedly smashed him headfirst into a wall. He filled a glass of water from the jug placed on his bedside table, downing it one gulp and refilling it to drink that as well.

He realized that he was probably hungover from last night. He didn't remember much except for the fact that he had nicked a bottle of bourbon and finished it.

Rubbing his head he headed to the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water. He had never been hungover before so it seemed twice more terrible to him and he couldn't imagine how Richard and Jason could so easily put up with it all the time.

After a long soothing bath that relaxed his nerves a lot, he emerged changing into his usual clothing. He was drying his head off with a towel when he passed the mirror and stopped immediately.

At first he thought it was a a trick of the light, but when he wiped off the mist on the glass with his palm, his reflection became clearer and he almost passed out in shock.

"Shit, shit, shit," he rushed out to his room, fumbling for his glasses because he couldn't be certain about anything he saw without his specs.

But the reflection was just the same which had shocked him terribly at the first time. A trail of hickeys was prominently visible on his neck, the bluish red marks contrasting vividly with his otherwise pale skin.

For a few minutes he stood there in shock, fingers gently tracing the marks on his neck as if trying to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. He couldn't comprehend how he could have gotten so drunk to end up in such a situation and also not remember anything about it.

However, he didn't want to leave for work without breakfast, so he quickly took off his shirt. Because he knew very well that if he wore that to work, he would not hear the end of it from his colleagues.

But unfortunately for him, he had no such shirts that could help in covering up his neck. The only outfit that would cover it all up nicely was his Red Robin suit but that could definitely not be worn to work.

"Fuck," he swore a little louder that he usually would, "I'm screwed."

A knock upon his door shook him out of his misery so he stood up to answer it. Jason was waiting outside much to his surprise.

"Oh my, Babybird," he whistled seeing Tim like that, "someone's looking a hot mess today. If only Dick could see you like that... He'd have to pay me fifty bucks and that's a given."

"What do you want?" Tim asked wearily.

"Its a matter of what you want rather than the other way round," he threw a turtleneck shirt at him to catch, "figured it would come in handy.

Tim didn't bother to ask him how he knew because that would only give Jay more reason to gloat at him. However he appreciated his gesture as he put on the shirt immediately.

"It's a little baggy on the shoulders but I don't think that would be too noticeable. Other than that it fits," Jay remarked, keenly checking him over to make sure that he looked okay, "you're lucky I still kept this one because the rest of my shirts would definitely be way too large on you."

"And how old is it, judging by the size?" Tim adjusted the turtleneck so that it went all the way up to his neck.

"It's from those days when I was into skin tight clothing. Not very old but very revealing in my case. That's the only reason it almost fits you."

"Thanks, Jay."

"And I might have some leather trousers that don't fit me anymore since those are from the same days as this turtleneck beauty, so if you're willing..."