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Tim saw how Dick slumped every time his little brother stepped away from one of his hugs, how Bruce’s jaw went tight every time they returned to the Batcave without Jason, how Alfred wiped away tears — quickly, like he hoped no one had noticed — when Jason didn’t show up for brunch, again.
Tim saw all of this, and he put two and two together (he was good at that), and he came to the obvious conclusion.
Jason was back, which meant it was time for Tim to leave.
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Tim moved slowly. He was half-afraid this was all a trick, or a dream, or that Jason would jump forward at any moment, knife unsheathed, and end it all.
But he didn’t. And Bruce didn’t step away, didn’t move at all, actually, until Tim was tucked against his chest, in his arms, in the strongest, safest place in the world. He felt Bruce’s cheek against the top of his head, and then a light kiss.
“My son,” Bruce whispered, choked. “My son. I love you.”
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read, long kinda, comfort
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