Chapter Text
Tim remembers the first time he got drunk. It’d been with two of his classmates - to call them friends would be a rather large stretch. All the same, their parents hung out together and wanted them to hang out together as well, Matthew Robinson and Jacob Von Grundwald.
They said to call them Matt and Jake, but his parents said Drakes always used people’s correct names.
Tim secretly called them Matt and Jake in his head though.
Sometimes.
Back to the point though, they’d invited him over after school a few times, and after he’d mentioned the first invite to his parents, one of the rare times they’d been home , they told him he just had to go.
Networking , they called it.
Still, they were people his own age, even if he’d skipped a grade and it made him a couple months younger but that really didn't matter for studying, right?
So he’d said yes. And after school, instead of rushing home to relish in the time he had left with his parents, he got in the Robinson family car. The butler was driving of course, they were only eleven, even if that was practically an adult.
He greeted the Robinson parents formally and correctly, just like he was supposed to, and then followed his two -friends?- upstairs.
He was rather surprised to see their family car pull out of the driveway not 30 minutes later.
“Hey.. uh Matthew, are your parents supposed to be leaving?” Tim asked with his eyes still following their headlights down the private road. Matt’s head popped up comically fast from his textbook.
“They’re gone?” He sounded weirdly optimistic.
“Uhh. Yeah?”
“Finally! I thought they’d never leave!” Matthew jumped and bounced off the bed, Jacob close behind. Tim followed them cautiously.
“Where are you guys going? Aren’t we supposed to be studying?”
Instead of answering, the two boys in front of him exchanged a smirk. When they finally reached wherever they were going, the trio stopped in front of a big dark oak door.
They swung it open without preamble, revealing an almost pristine study behind it. Tim’s father had one just like it.
“Should we be doing this guys?” Tim called hesitantly from the doorway.
“Don't be such a drag, Timothy ,” Jake sneered as he fiddled with a small lock on some sort of cabinet.
“Yeah, Timothy , I wouldn’t have invited you if I knew you were going to be such a loser. We’re just having fun,” Matt said from right behind his friend.
They thought he was boring? A drag? But he thought they were having fun. I mean, studying is what friends are supposed to do, right? Oh no, maybe he was screwing this up, he’d never really had friends before.
Tim looked desperately at the lock they were messing with, it was a simple padlock. Every rooftop in gotham had one. Which meant…
“I know how to break that lock,” He said with one foot in the room. Both of their heads snapped to him, “If you want, that is,” he shrugged.
Matt raised a doubtful eyebrow and had Jake step away with an ‘it’s all yours’ motion. Tim quickly scuttled the rest of the way into the room, nicking a paperclip from a folder on his way past the desk.
It took him maybe fifteen seconds to pick it, and five of those were to make sure it didn't look too easy. When the lock popped open, both boys behind him gave a cheer.
“Ha! See I knew you were cool Timmy! I told you it wasn’t a mistake to invite him, Matt.”
“Just Tim, actually,” Tim whispered.
Jake ignored him as he ripped away the lock and swung open the cabinet door.
It was alcohol. Big, fancy, crystal bottles of some kind of whiskey, bourbon, whatever. Tim sure didn't know what it was. But it looked like Jacob did, because he already had the biggest bottle from the top shelf in his hand; pouring it into the fancy crystal glasses Matthew had procured from… somewhere.
The crystal thunked solidly on the desk when Jacob set it down. And suddenly, there was a crystal glass filled with the dark amber liquid right in front of his face. It smelled kind of like hand-sanitizer. Tim grabbed the glass on reflex but hesitated.
“Are you sure our parents will be okay with this?”
“It’s fine, Tim . My father does it all the time with his work friends. He always says he’s networking, but Mom says that means he’s just in here drinking. I want to see what all the fuss is about.”
This was networking? Tim thought incredulously.
But it’s what his parents wanted him to do, right? Tim glanced down as the honey liquid swirled around in the cup. It was just one cup and it’s what his parents wanted, right?
“What are you? Afraid?” Matt sneered. Tim shrunk. Drakes weren’t meant to be afraid. Robin wouldn't be afraid. So Tim tipped his head back and dumped as much of the drink into his mouth as he could.
It burned!
Tim choked and gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t spit it out. Once he was finally able to swallow it, he looked up at the two in front of him. It looked like Matt had had a similar reaction, but Jake’s face was only kinda scrunched up with his tongue hanging out.
He smiled weakly at them as they all looked back at their drinks. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and forced down the rest of it.
That made it burn a little less.
---
His mom’s slap stung more than it burned on his cheek. Apparently that had not been what his parents meant by ‘networking.’ They were furious. Furious at him, at the Robinsons, even at the butler and then back at him again.
So furious in fact, that they’d canceled their trip to Brazil so they could stay home and make sure ‘he stayed out of trouble.’ That first month was bad, his father had grounded him, he hadn’t been able to sneak out to the inner city at all and his mother made him handwrite apology letters to both the Robinson and Von Grundwald parents.
Even though he was forbidden from ever talking to or hanging out with either of them ever again. ‘No good riff-raff with a bad influence on our little Timmy ’ were the words she’d used.
It’d been years since she’d called him anything but Timothy.
And because their Brazil trip had been canceled, Dad ended up making a deal at the company. They went out for dinner as a family to celebrate.
His parents were even home long enough for teacher conferences in October.
He understood they couldn’t stay forever though. Of course not. How could he expect them to do that just for him . Their work abroad was important . More important than Thanksgiving anyways. And the dig in Mozambique was a once in a lifetime experience, he couldn’t expect them to turn it down.
Of course not.
Still.
As Tim watched his parent’s taillights disappear in the distance, as he closed the massive door to the front foyer of an almost empty house… sometimes he thought about that night at the Robinsons, where just for a moment, he wasn’t alone.