"I don't need your protection!" Tim's voice is just as loud as Matt's. Louder, probably, to the other's sensitive hearing. He feels a little like he's arguing with his father, which is as weird as it is uncomfortable. At least this time he's not getting popped in the mouth for saying the wrong thing.

"Jesus Christ, Matt." Tim turns away, running his fingers through his already messy hair. "I never needed you to keep me safe. I'm not helpless. The only form of protection I ever needed from you was you tellin' me the God damn truth so I didn't accidentally murder my boyfriend." He inhales sharply, shakily, his voice dropping just a bit. "Did you ever stop to think about what it would've been like for me if I'd killed you? What it would've done to me? I never would've forgiven myself."

He remembers the one time he dreamed about it. The first time he ever had a nightmare in Matt's bed. The night of the explosions, when Matt dropped off the grid and Tim almost got his shot in on the vigilante. When they lost good cops. That entire things makes a lot more sense too, and Tim grits his teeth.