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He carefully doesn't think about how Tim's lips have touched this and the residue of his spit is probably on the rim. Dick is sure to slobber a little over it just to see Tim lick at it when he takes the bottle back, red lips around the edge and keeping eye contact with him while he slugs down the rest of the drink. His heart ratchets up a little, the room getting hotter, and then Tim puts it on the counter behind him. He's got to bend backwards a little, his flexibility paying off. If Dick gets a peak of his stomach, thin and tense and smooth — no hair in sight — then that's his business.
"Another?" Tim asks, blinking up at him, blue eyes wide and shiny.
"Sure," Dick says and promptly forgets all about how attractive Tim is. Or he tries to.