Colt couldn't think of anyone else.
Anyone who wasn't Timothy made him feel uncomfortable; just the thought of it made his stomach churn and gave him goosebumps all over.
Colt protested, "Can you please not use your own family as an example? Just the thought of it is awkward enough; I won't be able to look them in the eye in the future."
Timothy was very satisfied: "Wonderful, that way I won't have to worry about the Reader being snatched away; I will be your only protagonist."
“I was kidding you. Even if I hadn't forgotten, I would still choose you.” Colt buried his face in Timothy's neck, his lips pressed against Timothy's carotid artery. “Red Robin is different.”
Timothy mumbled a curse, his words so indistinct that even the hearing aid only picked up static.
Colt wanted to look up.
Timothy pressed him down, muttering, "I'm not ready yet."
Colt didn't think anything of it. "What do you need to prepare for?"
Timothy explained in a low voice, "From a physiological standpoint, it's easy to get injured if you aren't prepared for the first time. We'd better devise several plans together to avoid any last-minute tension that might cause psychological trauma and affect our future romantic lives."
Colt nodded seriously: "This is a very important subject in the study of romance. I think we should develop the plan together to ensure we get a perfect score for the experience."
Timothy's chest vibrated as he let out a low laugh. "I really love you, Colt."
Colt didn't know why he was laughing, but he still responded, "I love you too, Tim."
The two of them exchanged sweet words, kissing each other, like two kissing fish.
..
Timothy reached out his hand.
Colt held his breath in tension, his body stiff as a stone.
Timothy asked in a low voice, "Are you scared?"
Colt shook his head slightly and negotiated with Timothy, "I've studied the basic videos, the process seems too complicated.. Can I just lie there motionless and let you carry me, like Socioeconomics?"
I'm honored.
Timothy wanted to cheer; this was truly wonderful!
..
The pre-sleep talk took a sudden turn into a scene of unity and love; even in his dreams, Colt was still thinking about how to help.
Chapter 53
Colt was dreaming again. Whenever he slept with Timothy, Colt always had dreams, most of them were memories.
This dream was exceptionally intense; he dreamed of the catastrophe from those years again.
..
This is Gotham? I want to be President! I want to change this world! I want to make sure superheroes live long enough to collect their pensions!
'Why can't the Joker be killed?'
'Why can't I be the protagonist?'
'I refuse to accept this! Just you wait, I'm going to burn down the editorial office..'
..
Colt jolted awake.
The rustling sound proved that Timothy was sleeping soundly. Colt gently pulled Timothy's arm away to free himself, using a pillow as leverage, rushed toward the bathroom.
The water cascaded down, drenching him from head to toe, as the resentment and anger from his dreams still filled Colt's mind.
Du Zhe should have returned to his own world through death nine years ago, but he forcibly pinned himself into the dimensional rift, using himself as a medium to link the two worlds and execute a grand plan.
This is even more chuunibyou and crazy than being the President!
Colt felt no fear, only excitement. The so-called burning of the editorial office did not mean actual arson, but rather referred to seizing editorial control.
What kind of means would I use to seize editorial control? In the High-Dimensional World, I was just a Reader; I only came here because my Spiritual Power is stronger than others. Do I really have the ability to snatch the High-Dimensional Pen that they use to control the world away from the editors?
Colt felt that he couldn't do it, but his subconscious reminded him that the plan was underway and had already yielded some results. The evidence was that he had formed a connection with Timothy, his memories were gradually returning, his power was growing stronger.. He was deviating from this world, yet the world was not targeting him as crazily as it had in the past.
No, the important thing wasn't how to seize editorial rights, but what he would choose to edit this world once he had them! Furthermore, superheroes would never allow anyone to arbitrarily edit their world, no matter how irrational that world might be! If Red Robin knew what he was doing, he would send him to Arkham!
If he went to Arkham, Joseph would go crazy. However, Arkham has double rooms, so the two of them could live together in one when the time comes.
Colt's mind wandered.
The rustling stopped.
Colt tucked everything from his dream deep into the recesses of his mind, composed himself, sent a voice message: "It's still early, go back to sleep."
Last night's commotion lasted until after two, it's only five-thirty now; Timothy hasn't had enough sleep to even open a single treasure chest.
Timothy looked out the window; it wasn't light yet, the heavy snow outside had stopped, leaving the entire world blanketed in silver and looking freezing. He stretched and walked into the bathroom, picking up his Red Robin uniform that he had tossed messily into the bathtub last night, looked toward Colt in the shower.
The shower featured a dry and wet separation made of transparent glass, the mist made the figure behind the glass appear hazy.
Timothy swallowed hard, his moist yet dry throat, asked loudly, "Your biological clock is 6:30; did you have a nightmare?"
"No, Dad usually gets up at six, so I need to get back to my room before he wakes up." Colt turned around sheepishly, unaware that his back, especially when he bent over, was even more distracting.
Timothy shifted his position. "I thought you had run away from home."
This isn't running away. I'm just following the rules of dating; if Joseph won't let you stay in my room, then I'll just switch to sleeping in yours." Colt came out wrapped in a bath towel and carefully inspected Timothy's leg. "The bone fracture hasn't fully healed yet. You need to keep wearing the splint and continue using the Healing Lamp.
Timothy said nothing, his mind filled only with his lover, who was half-covered and still dripping with water. As Colt knelt to examine him, his face was positioned right at Timothy's waist, he could feel his breath hitting his abdomen. The young body mistook this for an invitation, certain parts were recklessly asserting their presence.
Colt discovered it. Following the instructions in the instructional video, he gently touched the place that was issuing an invitation, then stood up to kiss Timothy's lips.
“I'll help you tonight.”
Timothy was filled with shock. Colt could face Red Robin's muscles without even blinking, could even sleep through the entire night without changing his position while holding him. Even in a situation like last night, he didn't accidentally discharge his gun. Now, making such a flirtatious movement, Timothy almost suspected he was still dreaming.
Colt was unaware of the storm of thoughts raging in Timothy's head. He opened the suitcase and pulled out clothes that were still on hangers. Leaving the outfit he intended to wear, he stuffed the rest into Timothy's wardrobe.
“Do you have work today?” Colt asked.
I have to go to the company." Wayne's Christmas holiday extends straight through New Year's, but some departments are still working overtime, the boss is at his busiest right now. "These next few days might be very busy; there are many year-end business banquets, there's also a board meeting this morning. Bruce has his Batman duties, so I'll handle the company matters for him.
Red Robin's work isn't as important as Batman's, is it?
Colt didn't voice his inner complaints, but simply nodded. "Alright. I'll bring you breakfast in a bit, drop you off at the office while I'm at it."
Timothy watched him arrive like a dream and depart like a dream, leaving no footprints in the white snow outside the window. But the used bathroom, the clothes in the laundry basket, the fuller wardrobe, even the Cole Duck plushie with its burnt wings could all prove that Colt had truly been there.
The room was still the same room, yet Timothy felt that this place had changed from a mere occasional Safe House into something akin to a home. Perhaps he should be like any ordinary family and put a mailbox at the door, turning the Safe House into the "Ghost and Robin's Home."
..
Colt rushed into the study as soon as he returned home, digging through the pile of books under the bird's nest to find the ugly Joker. This countdown timer had already existed back when Colt was Joseph's shadow.
Was it really built by Joseph?
Colt returned to his room with the countdown timer showing 112 days remaining, only to find Joseph sitting by the fireplace in his own bedroom, notebook in hand, he had no idea how long he had been waiting.
Does anyone in Gotham truly understand the meaning of power?
Colt placed the timer on top of the Red Robin uniform display case, walked to the fireplace, leaned down to give Joseph a hug. "Good morning, Dad. Don't you ever sleep?"
Joseph put down the laptop and looked at his energetic son: "You can be with him."
Colt suspected there was something wrong with his hearing aid.
Joseph's expression was somewhat reluctant, but he still said, "Timothy makes you happy, so you can be friends with him and play together."
Colt tilted his head.
Joseph took a deep breath, stroked his beard, said earnestly, "My reaction last night was a bit excessive, my attitude toward you was wrong; that wasn't right. You need to have your own friends and your own personal space. I have always known this, I have always wanted you to make friends. But when this day actually arrived, I found myself worried that you would be taken away from me, which isn't good at all. I am very sorry, Colt. Can you forgive Daddy?"
Colt climbed onto the sofa to sit next to Joseph, squeezing in close. He hugged Joseph's arm and leaned his head against Joseph's shoulder. "I love you. You're the best dad. I'll never be angry with you."
Joseph patted his hand. "I love you too, Colt. You are also the best son, I will try my best never to yell at you."
Birdie flew over and squeezed between the two of them, rubbing his fluffy head against this one and then that one.
"Can I let Tim live at home?" Colt asked.
He has enough houses to give every homeless person in Gotham their own!" Joseph refused, "The Vibranium motorcycle you built for him is enough to buy a hundred of our homes!
Colt couldn't figure it out: he had already hidden the motorcycle in Timothy's safe house before Christmas and dealt with the surveillance; how on earth did Dad find it!
If he couldn't figure it out, he wouldn't think about it anymore. Colt kissed Joseph's cheek and headed downstairs with Birdie, leaving only his voice behind: "I'm going to make breakfast. What do you want to eat, Dad?"
Joseph watched his cheerful retreating figure and touched his cheek.
After Alisa left, the habit of hugs and kisses disappeared from Little Reed's home. As for who his son learned his current behavior from, it didn't need to be thought about to know.
Joseph felt both a sense of loss and a sense of relief, shouting loudly, "I'm getting old, I'm lacking calcium! Get me something with calcium!"
Timothy slacks off at work, using the phone to harass his brother.
So, you woke me up early this morning just to tell me that your boyfriend takes such good care of you—cooking for you, driving you to work, making you feel like a baby," Jason murmured into the phone. "And you're asking me what kind of romantic surprise would repay his love for you?
Timothy casually flipped through the documents, a smile playing on his lips. "That's right. As the owner of the Iceberg Lounge, you're well-versed in the world of pleasure and have seen it all; you must have plenty of romantic experience."
Are you sick, Timothy Drake? If you're sick, go see Dr. Leslie! Or go to Arkham and get registered anywhere!" Jason roared, "I just saw that the Ghost you're talking about is a real Ghost! I was asking if you needed a slash with the Blade of Great Caste to exorcise it! That blonde girl made you play truth or dare last night, you had to tell Joseph Fried that you like his son! Why don't you go harass her instead?
"I called her first, before I called you." Timothy signed the documents.
"That's where you're wrong. Why call her first? Is my Blade of Great Caste not fast enough?" Jason seemed to have forgotten his earlier complaint about being woken up by the phone so early in the morning; right now, he was busy complaining that Timothy hadn't chosen to call him first.
Quick, fast enough." Timothy picked up a new file and began reading it. "I heard the Iceberg Lounge restaurant hired a Chinese chef who can prepare Eastern state banquets. How about we have them make a meal for me at noon?
Bring your Little Ghost to the restaurant to eat?
"No, Bruce's chairman's office has a kitchen. Let them bring the ingredients here to cook," Timothy continued signing.
No, there are many banquets at the end of the year, the chefs are extremely busy; they don't have time.
"What about the intel on that shipment you've been investigating lately? It's several tons of fentanyl precursor, equivalent to the entire North American annual consumption. How does that sound?" Timothy knew how to handle his brother, so he sent a file package to Red Hood.
Deal," Jason said through gritted teeth. "Little Red Bird, have you found a new source of intelligence, like having your Little Ghost sneak onto a smuggling ship to take photos? The angle of this video is exactly what you'd get if an invisible man was carrying a camera and following the whole thing!
"I couldn't bear to make Colt do something like that; he should be looking at things that are clean and beautiful, like me. If you insist on asking about the source, then just pretend I saw it in a dream." Timothy signed another document.