Tim never was one for sharing his plans with others.

Follows this chapter but isn't actually a text so I don't feel right putting it with that work.

“Remind me why I’m the one on my knees again? I look ridiculous.” He’s not kidding. He doesn’t have the fucking physique to pull off submissive kitty cat. He’s broad, hairy, and thick with muscle. The expensive ears on his head, the detailed mitts on his hands, and the tail attached to his leather short shorts can’t possibly look anything but stupid. Not to mention the heavy black leather collar around his neck and its stupidly delicate Property of Timothy Drake-Wayne tag. He doesn’t know what the fuck Babs was thinking when she asked him to help Tim with this mission instead of Steph. Except he does, because of course their target just had to be into degrading big men. Fuck, but he hates honeypot missions.

"They're watching me," Jason says, when Daisy Mae has left. "Who, the drag queens?" Tim says. His face is an inch from Jason's chest, and when the strobe lights flash their way he can see a drop of sweat moving down Jason's pecs. His mind feels staticky, bouncing from general outrage to a general desire to put his mouth on Jason's skin. He's too horny to be rational about any of this. ++ Tim goes to a gay club and finds himself embroiled in one of Jason's cases. Glitter is involved. Also crises of morality. Also booty shorts.

Tim and Jason go undercover as a just-married couple celebrating their honeymoon in order to catch a high-profile drug lord. Hand-holding, kissing, secret rendezvous and bed sharing ahead. OR: The JayTimWeek prompt I never posted, filled with all of my favorite tropes, inspired by Lana Del Rey’s song - Honeymoon

When signs of a blackmarket organ trafficker floats up in Gotham Harbor, Jason and Tim find out that the victims had one thing in common: they both worked at a gay strip club. Determined to root out the traffickers, both decide to go undercover to solve the case. The only problem? Neither knows the other is working the case.