"Ow," Tim groaned, wincing a little and sucking in a sharp breath. "Sorry, that just stings an awful lot."

He felt bad always coming to his roommate for help patching up, but this was one of very few people who knew his secret identity, and it felt like everyone else involved with crime fighting was always busy with something or another. Besides, his roommate had really great bedside manner, and always managed to calm Tim's nerves whenever he was hurt or upset.

"I'll try to be more careful next time," he promised. He didn't know how to explain that there was very little he could do to avoid injuries when fighting. He was just an ordinary human, after all, fighting against all manner of things, and not always in the best situations. Sometimes it was hard to stay safe.

"I'm glad you're not mad at me, though. I wouldn't know what to do without you," he said sheepishly, glancing at the blood he'd tracked all over the floor. "I'll help with cleanup later, I promise. I—ow—don't really think I should be moving too much right now."

It felt weird, having someone so close and taking care of him, and it reminded him that he'd never actually had anyone around who'd helped him like this. Sure, he'd had Alfred, but that wasn't the same. Alfred was more like a grandfather. His roommate was...different.

Tim looked up at the worried face above him, at the concern in those eyes, and a warm feeling bloomed in his chest. The closeness was a little strange, but also...nice. And it made him feel things he wasn't sure how to name. He'd had crushes before, of course. Dated people, even. But this wasn't that. This was... What was this?

"Thank you," he said softly, meeting his roommate's gaze. "I mean it."