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At seventeen, becoming a dad to a superpowered baby, made using the DNA of his dead best friend in a cloning chamber similar to the one he was originally made in…well let’s just say he didn’t expect this turnout. Going off on his own to find his dad, to prove he was right about Batman not actually being gone, was its own issue. He’d left the failed experiments (all 99 of them) behind in that lab. He’d had Lonnie take a look in every so often to ensure no one was breaking in or squatting or whatever while he fucked off to Europe.
And then three days after getting his dad back, about a month after getting Kon and Bart back, and several months since his less than stellar experience in Paris, Lonnie called at 3AM.
It’s a rare night when Tim chooses to sleep in (and by that, he means not patrolling). But after being kicked out of an 80-story building and being caught only by the intensity of one very upset Dick Grayson, Tim decided to cut himself some slack. He could stay in on Friday night, watch Firefly, and eat Trader Joe’s spicy snack mix and drink a gallon of Zesti from the comfort of his Nest. So unlike everyone else, he had been peacefully zonked out on the couch when Lonnie’s ringtone started blasting through the night.
The Killers are crooning loudly in his ears, Mr. Brightside already sounding off about taking a drag by the time Tim wakes up enough to snag his phone off of the coffee table.
“I should’ve never let him pick his own ringtone,” Tim groans, eyes unable to crack open as his hand blindly searches the coffee table for the source of the noise. “Lon, please tell me why you decided to call me at ass o’clock—”
“Bird boy, you need to get here, stat.”
Tim wakes the hell up at that. His spine goes rigid because Lonnie usually doesn’t sound like that. Not that upset. He hasn’t sounded that stressed since everything with Armstrong was going down.
“What’s going on, did something happen?”
“Yeah, but you’re not gonna believe me until you see it. And I know things have changed, but you need to get to Boston like yesterday.”
Tim was already off the couch, shrugging on whatever sweatshirt had been tossed over the back of the chair Cass liked to sleep in when she came to visit. He could barely think with Lonnie giving him a basic rundown of the facility status and the security of the DNA and whatnot. But Tim couldn’t breathe. Because Lonnie sounds nervous in a way Tim knows means something royally fucked up has happened.
Tossing his laptop and some random clothes in a bag, he snatches his phone charger and is out the door to the nearest Zeta tube before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing. It’s likely Oracle would take notice of a civie Tim sprinting headfirst into a Zeta and zipping to Boston, so he hacks it before she can stop him and ask any questions. He redirects the cameras away, stumbling towards the remotely activated portal and suddenly he’s in it. Before the light flashes fully across his eyes he has one singular thought: this is just something else in his life that is blowing up and he still hasn’t told anyone about anything that happened on his ill planned and morally questionable and overtly illegal Brucequest. Oh well.
Boston is beautiful this time of year. The leaves are turning auburn, golden, and crimson while the crisp air settles in for fall. Tim had seriously considered going to school up here, ignoring the sports teams, and trying to get an actual college experience. But he’s the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, a high school dropout, and he’s got no way of leaving without changing his identity, which he’s sick of doing. But the city itself is something Tim surprisingly loves. Maybe it’s the history, the cobblestones, or general assholery of its residents, but Tim loves it.
His parents had loved New England for pretty much every reason Tim does. They adored the history imbued in every wall, in all of the brick buildings and mysterious artwork. Tim remembers one of the few times they traveled with him, taking him on a quick weekend getaway so his mom could speak at a business event at Harvard. They’d spent hours that weekend flitting between museums.
It was one of those weekends that was rare, if not for the time he was spending with them but for the amount of information they shared about themselves. His mom especially, was particularly private, so this felt like a glimpse into everything she was passionate about without the guard rails of Gotham’s uppercrust expectations.
Without them, it feels like he can never quite love anything the same.
But that’s beside the point. Tim hops out of the portal, shaking off his general sense of doom and paralyzing nostalgia as he makes his way out of downtown Boston. The portal’s in Chinatown, and even at this time in the morning, Tim can smell tantalizingly good food wafting down the street. But he has to shake it off. No time to waste when Lonnie sounds like he’s this close to breaking down if Tim delays.
In any normal situation, Tim would feel bad about hot-wiring (or in this case, hacking) a car, but it’s a Tesla so he could care less. He disables the tracking, the cameras, and whatever else he can find, and zooms off into the night.
The facility is located outside the city, close enough to drive to, but being in Framingham isn’t as ritzy or noticeable as any of the directly surrounding suburbs. With no one on the road, he makes it to the warehouse in record time, breaking at least fifty traffic laws alone while passing the state troopers’ headquarters. No one stops him, though.
The further he gets from Boston, the more the sense of impending dread sinks deep into his gut. Something’s severely fucked up and if it’s anything like last time…it’s better to brace himself than believe it will all be okay.
Lonnie’s standing at the door, eyeing the car until Tim pokes his head out the door.
His friend visibly deflates, shoulders curling in on themselves as he spots Tim, gesturing for him to follow.
Tim does, taking in the psychic damage of his mental health spiral where he tried to clone Kon. Who he has been, maybe unsurprisingly, actively avoiding spending time with. He swears to himself it’s not about Cassie or the Bats, but deep down it’s always been about this: how he feels about Kon.
How he’s always felt about Kon, but never once said aloud.
“Lonnie, wait up, what’s going on?” Tim shoulders his backpack, not even bothering to put on a domino mask.
“Dude,” Lonnie looks back at him, mask pulled off. “I don’t know when or how this happened, ‘cause it wasn’t like this last time I was here, but...”
“But what? Dude, you’re freaking me out.”
Lonnie swallows loudly, snatching Tim’s hand and dragging them over to the cloning chamber he had…appropriated from Lex Luthor. He gestures vaguely to the green liquid in the glass when it finally hits Tim.
“Is that a baby?”
“I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t.”
“But they all failed…”
“Except this last one. Which is weird because in the system it reads attempt 100, which you stopped at like 99, so I’m not sure when you came back—”
“I didn’t.”
Lonnie stops rambling. His voice is strained, and he looks at Tim like he’s looking at a ghost. “What?”
“I didn’t come back.”
The silence between them stretches on for a minute as they observe the chamber again. The green glow is too much like the Lazarus pit in this light. Tim’s heart starts to pound, beating its fists against the inside of his ribcage.
What the actual fuck is happening? He has no explanation for why there’s a baby growing. Because if he didn’t come back—
“Someone did.”
Tim pulls his eyes away from the very tiny life currently growing in the chamber and marches directly towards the computer bay. He logs on, checks his notes and finds he and Lonnie are both right.
He hasn’t been back since before Bruce died.
But about four and a half months ago, when Tim was in Europe, someone broke in and tried their hand at attempt #100. And unlike every single time Tim had tried before, it took. Which is strange and concerning and a batshit crazy mystery, but then Tim takes a look at the vitals.
They look normalish for an embryo almost five months old. Especially one that hasn’t been set to grow at a rapid pace. But Tim has a sinking feeling in his gut that something’s different. And when he checks the DNA makeup, he finds what he's looking for. The baby currently growing in front of his eyes is 75% or so, human. And 25% Kryptonian. Which, for a Conner Kent clone, would be the wrong choice. But for a child using two parents’ DNA? One of whom is fully human? It’s pretty on par.
If he just checks the DNA strands, maybe he can understand whose DNA it actually is…
Tim can feel his legs give out, but there’s very little he can do when Lonnie snatches him by the waist so he doesn’t brain himself on the floor. “Dude!”
“Someone cloned Kon.”
“I thought you tried…”
“And me.”
“…okay wasn’t expecting that. So that means the baby that’s definitely growing in that tube is—”
“Mine and Kon’s kid.”
“Dude.”
Tim feels his heart sink into his sneakers. Because this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Because last time he and Kon were in the same room, Tim could hardly look at him, could hardly look away. Because his best friends weren’t dead, but he tried to clone Kon knowing it would never be the same, knowing he could never actually get him back and he still tried—
Lonnie slides him into the chair. He takes the lead in pulling up the footage from the last time the machine was activated and they both watch the screen with wide eyes.
“Who even is that?” Lonnie questions, eyebrows pinched while they watch a man Tim is, depressingly enough, familiar with, mess around with the DNA sequencing. Tim watches him purposefully pull out a vial he must have brought with him. A vial of Tim’s own DNA.
Which, of course, Jor-El would have plenty of considering he had kidnapped Tim over a year ago and held him captive for months.
“Why does he look like—”
“Superman? Superboy?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s Jor-El, or Mister Oz, otherwise known as—”
“The guy that kidnapped you???”
“Yeah. Superman’s bio dad.”
Lonnie turns to him with comically wide eyes and a jaw already halfway down to the floor. “No fucking way.”
“I just don’t understand—”
“Why I added your DNA to my own?”
The voice behind him immediately sets Tim’s nerves on fire. His eyes fly open from where they were sliding shut with the psychic conundrum currently slamming into his head. The building was lined in lead to keep Clark from getting nosy or attracting Luthor’s attention. In hindsight, with Jor-El smiling down at him from across the room, Tim feels like it was a mistake to be so secretive.
“Why are you here?” Tim snarls out, on his feet and pushing Lonnie behind him before the man can move closer.
“Anarky, I presume,” Jor-El ignores him, “Thank you for bringing me the mastermind behind this set-up. I was duly impressed by how close he was to accomplishing something so great that I had to do it myself when he had not gotten the chance to see the greater picture.”
Tim’s head is spinning. “This wasn’t a mistake. You purposefully wanted to clone Kon and I—”
The Kryptonian rolls his eyes, floating down to land in front of them. His hand reaches out and snatches the back of Tim’s neck. His grip is tight, and Lonnie’s hand has snatched Tim’s wrist so the man can’t just take off with him.
His best friend’s (technical?) grandfather presses their foreheads together and it’s all Tim can do but grit his teeth. Lonnie is saying something, but Jor-El’s voice is low and clear in his ears. “Because we are going to be kin. I have seen what you have done, what you will do, and what you are. In the name of advancing science, this child will be an evolutionary breakthrough. Intelligence from across the galaxies, bound forever to someone who managed out to outsmart opponents stronger, bigger, and faster. I know you decimated the League of Assassins. That you went up against Darkseid and did not die. That Lex Luthor finds you as worthy of an opponent as my son. Even when you were in my clutches the first time, I knew it was only a matter of time before you would escape. Your first and only attempt was just you gathering data, was it not?”
“Yes,” Tim grinds out. He truly doesn’t know why he’s being honest with Jor, but it beats the urge to try and smack him with his bo staff. He can’t win in this situation, especially with Jor gripping something as delicate as his neck.
“Then this child will be something for the ages. Perhaps a new way to revive the blood of Krypton. To improve the condition of humanity. It is the future for DNA manipulation and the scientific expansion of genetic excellence. A child who will break the bonds that your simple species has maintained for generations.”
“My kid, Jor. Not just a kid. Mine.”
“Yes, yes, and Kon-El’s. I could not think of a better mix. I understand why the al Ghuls attempted to co-op you and your DNA first—”
And how the hell does he know about that, Tim thinks, barely containing the urge to yank himself backward and away from Jor’s trip down memory trauma.
“Stop—”
“—if your sister had not intervened when she had, I would have had to break cover so much sooner.” Jor-El shakes his head, like Tim still didn’t wake up screaming from those nightmares. “Well, it seems like we should continue our discussion, as I believe we have much to consider regarding your child. Anarky, I suggest you leave before I dispose of you needlessly.”
Lonnie tugs on Tim’s wrist. “Not without him.”
Jor-El’s laugh is cold and mean. It sends ice shards down Tim’s spine and all he wants to do is call for someone, anyone to come help. Hell, he’d take Clark even after their…disagreement about Bruce’s status. “No, Timothy will be staying here with me. After all, the expectant father should be preparing for the inevitable. No, Anarky, I believe he will be staying here. With me.”
Tim doesn’t want to be left alone. He wants to go home. He wants his dad, his brother, anyone else but Jor-El, but he needs Lonnie to get out and find a way to get help to Tim without them all dying.
“It’s okay, you should go. I can handle this.” Tim’s voice refuses to show even one drop of hesitation. He treats this just as he would any conversation with the Gotham upper crust. Because that’s truly what Jor-El is. A Kryptonian elite who believed wholeheartedly in the military-industrial complex and the might of his own DNA. Janet Drake would be abhorred that he hadn’t thought to do so earlier. He can hear the dulcet tones of her lessons in his ears: You can never show weakness, not when others will use it to get to you, to destroy you. You must be better, quicker. I expect you to listen to what they say and twist it back to your advantage. Repeat what they want, but with your own stipulations woven into the very fabric. They won’t know it benefits you until it is too late. Until you have already won. “I would recommend going back home for now. I need someone to water my plants while I’m gone.”
It sounds dismissive, but he can tell Lonnie clocks him and his game.
“Understood, Red Robin.”
Lonnie lets go of him. For his part, Jor releases his neck too, letting Tim take a step back to process this. He turns to his friend and nods, reaching out to grasp his arm before he can go. Sliding a tiny drive into his friend’s palm, he says, “I’ll be back before you know it. If you have any questions about how to take care of the philodendron and the moonflowers on my balcony, you can ask Ivy. Don’t ask Cass or Dick. Cass will just drown it in water and it was a present.”
“Got it.”
And Lonnie does. He knows what Tim is asking: do not tell Dick under any circumstances, and if he need to extract Tim, if this becomes too much for him to handle, then Cass can be notified. But the philodendron is from Tam and the moonflowers from Z. He has a directive and a group of people to tag in.
Lonnie nods, swallowing deeply as he can’t seem to stop his eyes from dancing between the two of them. It’s only after a full minute where Jor seems to get more and more agitated, that Lonnie finally turns towards the door. Tim waits as each step puts his friend one more inch closer to freedom. Eventually, the door opens and Lonnie turns to lock eyes one last time with Tim before the metal clang signifies the last moment Tim had where he could pretend this was all some elaborate nightmare.
And really, watching his friend leave him behind with another powerful, old ass scientific-minded megalomaniac is like a whiplash of deja vu to the face.
Turning to face Jor-El feels like he just woke up next to the Lazarus pit again. It’s this tight resignation in his chest for what is to come. For what has already happened. Because Tim is going to be a dad. There’s no real way out of it considering Jor is literally growing the baby in a tube ten feet away from him. Part of him, the part that lost Kon, all four parents, Steph, Bart, and his entire life in one fell swoop feels euphoric. Because he finally has someone coming back to him. Someone who is all his, that he can pour his heart and soul into the way he’s done with everyone who has ever hurt him. And this time, it might be different.
The part of him that’s more rational has no fucking clue how to get out of this one without dying or remaining Jor’s captive for the next fifteen years or something. He’s also seventeen, a CEO, and about to fall victim to the teen pregnancy statistic without ever actually getting with his baby’s other parent.
Tim most certainly does not want to co-parent with a man who kidnapped him. He wants to talk to Kon, to confess everything, and to tell his family that he fucked it all to high water and that he’s drowning in his own mess. He needs to tell Tam and Lucius, because as much as he knows they’re capable of covering for him for a while, they will get antsy if he’s gone for another four months.
“So,” Tim says casually, “would you allow me to message my assistant to let her know I will be needing a baby shower in the near future? And to prepare for paternity leave?”
It sounds so banal, but Tim is going to be as casual as he can about this and freak out in the privacy of literally anywhere else but here. Jor laughs, throwing his head back. It’s almost too much like Clark and a decent bit like Conner for comfort. “My dear, you remind me so much of Lara. She would have loved you.”
Great, the dead wife comparison. Always goes well for him.
“I would hope so.”
“Mmm. She would have liked your wit and intelligence,” He muses, circling Tim like a shark. “You know, when I first took you, I had not realized how much potential you had. Batman had let it remain untapped for so long, it truly is a crime. You have the potential to be so much more. I was not surprised to hear that the man was truly not dead. I was surprised that Kal-El refused to see the possibility of your theory. It is truly disappointing to know he could not imagine the larger picture. After all, I have seen you solve cases and negotiate treaties more complicated than finding one single man lost in the timestream. I had considered stepping in, but I wanted to see if you would be able to scheme your way out of it, and you did! After all, I was focused on finding this little gem of a facility. Beautiful location, truly, located in an industrial center surrounded by the natural environment. I had wondered if you would want to raise your child here. After all, there is significantly less pollution and the climate is comparable to that of Gotham’s.”
“I had considered moving here,” Tim relents, eyes tracking Jor as he comes to stand in front of Tim again, just an arm’s length away. “My parents loved New England. I pictured attending school here.”
And the sad thing about this? Tim had. He had thought of going to Gotham U. Of heading out to San Francisco for college. But Boston and Cambridge were hard to pass up if he wanted a solid mix of the boring, normal education he needed for life and enough of the art and computer programming to satisfy his curiosity. He had also, as expected, considered what it could mean for Gotham if he could tap into the medical advancements and research being done at the hospitals here. He wanted to bring it back home, to find a way to better his city without putting on a cape and a mask and risk getting blown up every other week.
Jor seems satisfied with that, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulders, directing them toward the computer. “I am pleased to hear that. I imagine you will continue with your studies and your scientific research while you prepare for fatherhood. It is exactly what I did.”
Great. He’s just like Clark’s dad. Fun.
“Now, Timothy,” Jor slots him right into the chair. “Are you ready to find out more about your child?”
Not really, Tim muses, but at the same time, he does. He needs to know if he’s gonna get both of them out of this alive and in tact.
“I am.”
Jor’s grin is as comforting as a great white’s. “Let us begin.”
It’s been two weeks since Tim has had his life flipped over and squashed into the ground. Cohabitating with someone who kidnapped him and previously held him captive (and also secretly cloned himself and his best friend) is really not on his list of things he wanted to do this fall. Especially because his absence has been noticed by more than just Tam.
She had taken to his work-from-home “medical event” like a champ. Meaning that while she knew something was fucked up and Tim needed help, she had to let him give her the go-ahead before she acted. But when he told her it was a more trippy version of his Eurotrip from hell, she made mandatory, daily check-ins as proof of life. Jor hasn’t minded so far, especially since Tim has not once told her to tag in the Batfam or his team (assassins or the Titans). For all Tim’s relatively shitty acting, Jor has made it seem plausible that Tim has solid that he is totally okay with what’s going on. Which, Tim hasn’t really sorted out this whole thing in his head so how he feels is currently residing in a liminal space.
On one hand, it’s more or less what he was aiming for. A baby with Kryptonian DNA from Kon. But this is almost worse. Because Tim is still actively avoiding Kon, Cassie, and Bart’s attempts to contact him. He hasn’t truly talked to Cassie about their disaster of a fallout. He hasn’t been able to come to grips that Bart is alive and real and his heart hurts to think about it. Because if he goes to check at any random point, and Bart is gone? It’ll obliterate any progress mentally that he’s made to rebuild his incredibly fucked up view of mortality and life. Bart is too important to him to be gone, and knowing that Tim can’t do anything, can’t restructure his DNA or even ensure his parents are born is a mind fuck he doesn’t want to get into. At the end of the day, he just wants his friend.
And then, of course, there’s Conner.
Whose texts have gotten incredibly and increasingly urgent in nature. Jor looks over his shoulder when he texts, so Tim’s just let the stack of unread messages pile up over the two weeks.
It’s cowardly. Tim’s a right fucking hypocrite.
But he’s been in love with his best friend since before he lost him that first time. Before he ever understood what it meant to love someone like that, Tim loved Kon. Losing him amongst every other important person in his life was potentially the most devastating thing he’s had to try and comprehend. Because Tim knew what it meant to leave things unsaid in a relationship, and how death meant that he never got that chance to make it right, to be honest for once.
His mom died never knowing who he was. His dad died knowing who he was, but never knowing how Tim felt about their relationship. Dana and her baby…Bart. Steph. Darla. And Bruce. God, Bruce.
It’s too much for someone who has unbalanced and obsessive tendencies in personal relationships. He loves people with his whole chest, his heart stitched violently onto his sleeve, and sometimes that means stalking them or creating contingency plans to ensure that they’d survive if someone turned them evil with mind control or secret Luthor tech or dumped them into a vat of rage-bait immortality juice. It’s hard for people to understand and accept, and he’s gone about it the wrong way with people before. Damian and Jason being prime examples. If he could’ve just explained to Damian that the list wasn’t about how he’ll never trust his little brother and more about survival then maybe…or if he had told Jason he would be his Robin maybe it all wouldn’t have gone down like it did.
Listen, Tim knows he’s fucked up, okay? He knows that losing Robin was really the tilting point on his very loose and very slippery-slope towards questionable moral and emotional behavior. All of Janet Drake’s suspicious and concerning personality traits seemed to manifest in him after he lost the one person who was holding his moral pillar together with loose thread.
Right now, he just wants to tell Conner that he’s always loved him. He’s always wanted him. Tim just needs to be honest with him. About everything. The cloning, his time abroad. All of it.
And then Conner can break his heart, but he doesn’t have to lose him. He doesn’t have to destroy everything and everyone he loves by burying down the part of him he never thought he’d be honest about. The part of Tim that is still the little tween idiot with a skateboard and obsession with Ted Kord’s brain and Dick Grayson (general), wants to call his brother and cry. He wants to lie in his bed and chug a Zesti and pretend, if just for a moment, that his life hasn’t spiraled so far out of his control that he can’t recognize the person staring back at him in the mirror.
It doesn’t help that Jor is so weirdly doting.
When he’d held Tim captive that first time, he certainly wasn’t as interested as he is now. They eat dinner together, Jor explains the science that does annoyingly interest Tim about what he did to make Tim’s baby. What’s even weirder is when Jor asks how Tim will raise her.
“I have an apartment. Obviously I’ll need to retrofit a super-proofed nursery at some point soon, or have one of my contractors do it while I’m here. Considering my day job, I most certainly have enough money for the baby to get a good education. I’d rather I not repeat my parents’ questionable choices by bouncing them from one school to another every other year or something. And that they generally finish school before taking over any work.”
“You would raise the baby in Gotham?”
Tim blinks at him. It’s not accusatory, just questioning.
“Yes. I was raised in Gotham. I love the city. I love the people, even if some need a reality check and a new career path.”
“But you wouldn’t move to Metropolis.”
“With Lex Luthor?” Tim questions, feeling his mother’s signature arched eyebrow pop right up. “Look, I know he loves Kon. I know he cares about their relationship, and that he might care about this baby. But I am not Luthor’s family. I have no idea if his desire to eliminate Clark will one day put my baby in danger. Right now, I’m a literal business competitor. No, I’d rather gauge his reaction, do a deep dive into his current financial situation and double-check on his scientists. I’m not willing to put my kid in danger to please him.”
Jor’s eyes are just as piercing as Clark’s and Conner’s. And Kara’s, if Tim is honest. But Kara’s got her slightly-reformed trauma-glare that seems to scare Clark more that it does Tim. After all, Tim is good with her because she’s good with Conner. And because she understands trauma when she sees it, and it’s been written all over his face for a while now.
“I am not sure what I anticipated.”
Tim leans back in his chair, away from the dinner Jor ordered from the best local Brazilian steakhouse. “I’m not Superman, Jor. I’m not Batman. I’m intending to raise this baby unlike how I was raised. I love my parents, I love Bruce, but I can’t say it’s been easy. I loved being Robin. But there’s always going to be a part of me that wanted the community I never had. I want my kid to grow up with my friends and neighbors and family all there. I want them to feel more love than they can ever imagine, to set a high standard for what they deserve. My parents, well, Jack, only ever really saw that I needed that kind of love or even wanted that affection from him after my mom was already dead. And he never really found the stability to give it to me. Honestly, Dana came closest, but she was in my life for such little time that I never got to appreciate it. I just want my kid to know what it means to have people who will fight for you, die for you, kill for you if necessary. It’s not very…Batman-like, I know, but I’m not Batman. I don’t think I ever really want to be Batman. But if I’m gonna be a dad, I’m gonna do it right.”
Jor nods, considering Tim’s words carefully. It’s almost fascinating, how physically similar he is to Clark. It does sometimes scare Tim, especially with how he moves. Tim’s grown up with Pa and Ma. Seeing a fully-grown Kryptonian act like a Kryptonian without the humanity Clark has grown up to emulate and the, admittedly less strict, love of people that Kara has learned to have, means this is like a bit of a trip for him.
Of course, Jor decides to throw him for a Hail Mary and asks the one question Tim doesn’t want to talk about. “You never explained why you are no longer Robin.”
Tim takes a slow sip of his water. Swallowing evenly, he keeps his heart rate down.
“It’s a long story.”
“I imagine. But I quite could not believe it when Ra’s al Ghul’s spawn showed up in a bastardized version of your colors.”
“They were Nightwing’s first,” Tim argues, even though the topic feels like ash on his tongue. “He did what he thought was best a the time.”
Jor shakes his head, reaching slowly across the table to pat Tim’s hand comfortingly, which feels weird. “I understand that they were his. But you were Robin.”
“I was.”
“Did you know some of your Gotham rogues refused to engage with the imposter Batman and Robin?”
What???
“What are you talking about?”
Jor sighs, leaning back and retracting his hand from Tim’s wrist, where it had moved to grip his pulse point. “Yes. I was waiting and watching, as I mentioned. I noticed that those like Catwoman, or Harley Quinn, and the Riddler, most notably, refused to engage with them for a majority of their dual tenure. That antarctic bird-themed villain did, and he had a very public argument about it with the Riddler and his horrific fashion sense. I believe the Riddler even looked for you at some point, but realized you most certainly left the city and was quite disheartened.”
Is that why Eddie literally hugged him when Tim went to apprehend him two weeks before he left for Boston? Tim considers. It’s a strangely warm sentiment and Tim decides he’ll have to check in on the man and apologize for disappearing twice in one calendar year.
“I hadn’t known.”
Jor hums. “I understand. I do believe you are missing calculations for your importance within your own city. To your own people. Many are fully aware that the Robin currently roaming the streets is not the one that they grew to know and care for. I do suspect you will need to continue looking into the goings on of your city before you return, just to be aware of their reactions.”
Tim nods stiffly. He feels a little floored and floaty. He moves the rest of the dinner in a bit of a daze as he digests this new information. He cleans up their plates and does his nightly check up on his baby.
Tim can feel the man looming for a while. It seems he does not like when Tim is quiet and considering his life. Jor pauses behind him on his way toward his own room. “One day I expect to hear that very long story you mentioned.”
Tim nods, eyes welling a little at the thought, a migraine already forming behind his eyes. It’s a daunting task, but maybe it’ll be good practice for whatever he tells Conner, Cassie, and Bart. He knows Jor will not want a sanitized one, and neither will they. It’s silent for a while, Tim just looking over the data at the baby who might have his eyes and Kon’s curls, and hopefully none of Lex Luthor’s baldness.
“Oh, and Timothy?” Jor calls out as Tim finally stands from the chair and moves to get ready for bed. Tim turns, “Congratulations on your daughter.”
By month one of living with this new reality, Tim would think he’s hit a point where nothing could truly startle him. He’s about to be a dad to a baby girl. With his best friend and secret long-time crush. He’s been forcibly living with his daughter’s alien and maybe evil great-grandfather/grandfather. He’s taken to designing a literal Pinterest board for her nursery, a feeding schedule template, and obsessively researching anything and everything to do with babies. He decided that if he’s gonna do this, he’s not gonna do it on a wing and a prayer to Rao.
Damn, he really is spending too much one-on-one time with Jor.
And then, of course someone breaks in. It’s in the random two hour window in which Jor decides to go grab groceries and sit in the sun for a bit to recharge.
For the first time in a while, Tim feels a jolt of terror run through him. Not about Jor. Or Ra’s. Not terror for himself. But for the baby who is still months out from being ready. Who needs Tim to sort this shit out before anything can happen to her. He immediately goes into stealth mode, tracking the noise from the back exit. It’s more than one intruder. Two larger men, maybe one woman. Human most likely. Of course, when Tim turns the corner, bo extended to slam into someone’s face, he sees who it is.
Before the bo can break Pru’s nose a fifth time, he collapses it back down.
“Lonnie reached out.” Tim’s voice is both full of the relief he feels and the simultaneous dread lingering in his bones.
Pru’s glaring at him again. “Ya, yuh annoyin’ lil bird. Ya weird, freaky friend showed up at ass o’clock in the mornin’ to harass me about ya. Said some crazy shit, so I had ta check it out for myself.”
“Took a while to find you,” Z adds in. “Boss, you own too many warehouses on the Eastern seaboard. But Prudence decided if she was going to put in the effort to find you, she might as well go—”
“With us!” Owens adds, shouldering past her to wrap Tim in a hug. Before he can fully connect his hand with Tim’s shoulder, someone beats him to it. Jor’s hand is heavy, and Tim suspects the only reason the man hasn’t blasted his friends to dust is because Z is leveling a Kryptonite-laced gun at the man and because Tim fully had his arms out too.
“Little bird,” Jor levels out, jaw clenched in a way that screams danger. “Who are these people?”
“We are his employees,” Z butts in, yanking Owens back by the collar. “Formerly from the League of Assassins. Timothy…appropriated us after we worked with him. Saving our lives cemented our loyalty and now we contract only with him. Tamara and Lucius directed us to him as we were made aware that he would need additional support preparing for a ‘special delivery.’ So we tracked him here.”
“And you did not call.”
“We did not want to risk Oracle or the Justice League attempting to divert us or following behind.”
Jor sneers, but he relaxes his grip on Tim. Owens takes this as a sign to yank Tim into a hug, dragging the rest of them in too.
At first, Jor is disturbed by their presence. But he does get something he’s been asking Tim for by virtue of their presence: information on Tim. His trio of vaguely reformed assassins recounts their first meeting, Tim’s museum-robbing days, and their day-to-day routine in the League.
It’s kind of weird for Tim, considering how few people are aware of what happened during this time period, but it helps ease the tension in the warehouse.
Somehow, Pru ends up winning over Jor the quickest, with her explanation of her perpetually broken nose. “And this kid, comes outta now’ere, slamming that bo uh his into my godforsaken nose again! Ya think aftah savin’ his ass a few times he’d be nicah, but no. Too bad the kid grows on ya like the plague. Can’t get rid ah him.”
It somehow makes Jor smile, which is almost as disturbing as when the Lex does.
After dinner one night, Z settles in next to him to check on baby girl’s vitals. Since it’s mid-November, she’s over the half-way point to being done. Tim’s betting she’ll be born in March.
Just like Dick.
“Superboy reached out,” Z starts quietly, eyes still on the screen. “Your secretary routed him to us. He is very upset that he cannot find you.”
Tim keeps a lid on the emotions bubbling up in his chest. “I imagine the Bats haven’t even noticed I’m gone.”
Z shakes his head, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulder, dragging the rolling chairs closer together. “I know you are perhaps one of the smartest people to ever live, but you have greatly misinterpreted the emotions of people around you.”
Tim doesn’t turn, but he is rapidly becoming more confused.
“They have noticed. Your Red Hood has been tearing through the gangs. Black Mask mentioned that he had ‘seen you out’ of the city and people took it like he had kidnapped or killed you. Of course, with your associates taking care of your usual duties, people assumed it was more likely the former. Nightwing has moved back to Gotham on a permanent basis,” Tim’s head whips around at that, “and many are noting how likely he is to turn violent the longer he goes without a lead on you. Batman is digging through every Arkham contact, every person you’ve ever worked with, trying to find a lead. Black Bat is perhaps the scariest of all. She is virtually in every hidey-hole in the city. People are saying she just shows up to ask about you and then disappears if she can’t find anything. She slammed the Joker’s face into a wall so hard it shattered all of his front teeth and at least three molars the with force. He said something about snipping little red bird wings and she did not take it well.”
Tim’s heart is pounding in his chest. It can’t be like that. Last time…no Z must just be getting sugar-coated stories.
“I suppose Robin’s the only one who’s glad I’m gone, then.”
Z shakes his head, his grip only tightening on Tim. “He has threatened just about everyone in Gotham for information. He has compiled a pretty comprehensive list of your associates and your enemies, and has been methodically checking them off as he visits them like the ghosts of Christmas past. I think once Huntress shouted at him, quite loudly I will say, that you only added him to that list because you care about him, that he changed his entire stance.”
“But why—”
“She mentioned that he had not understood what it meant. You having a contingency for him did not mean you hated him. Or want him dead. Quite the opposite. You wanted to find a way to neutralize him so that no one could or would kill him if anything were to influence him. Especially with the Master’s whole organization in flames because of you. The man would turn to leverage people in your life, including his own grandson, against you. Robin understands that now. He wants, quite desperately I might add, to speak with you. That new vigilante, Signal, and your Spoiler have both mentioned some of your exploits as Robin and so he is keen on getting direct mentorship from you.”
Tim’s heart is stuttering in his chest. He has nothing to say. He wants to believe Z isn’t bullshitting him, which he wouldn’t, that’s more a Pru thing, but the scar on his stomach aches as the rain begins to slam into the warehouse roof.
“You’re not lying to me.”
“No.”
Tim’s heart flips in his chest and the ache for family hits him full on in the face. He doesn’t cry. He can’t cry right now. He’s not even sure if he knows how to anymore. His face is hot and his eyes string. It’s like being told he’s gotten everything he’s ever wanted and he can’t even go back to see it.
“They know Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of WE is working remotely due to his recovery from an illness, but the people are impressed with your work. R&D, the Neon Knights initiative and, perhaps surprisingly, Legal, have been singing your praises for weeks. Of course, they still tried demanding information from the Foxes, but Tamara almost bit Richard Grayson’s head off when he asked. She threatened to break all of Jason Todd’s toes with the Loubitons that you got her for her birthday. She even slammed the door on Bruce Wayne’s face when he tried to demand your location. I think she broke his nose. Damian and Cassandra have also tried, but Lucius has not given them an inch. Luke and Tiffany only confirmed that you were alive and working. Tiffany, how do you say it, ‘girlbossed’ her way to head of HR, so she resolutely refuses to hand out any of your information to anyone not on your emergency contact list. Which currently only includes Tam, Lucius, myself, and Owens.”
“No Pru?”
“Do you really want her scheduling vacation days for you at random?”
“You’re right, and Tiff would allow her to. They all think I work too much.”
Z throws back his head and laughs. Tim can only find it in himself to smile and roll his eyes. “Considering that you will soon be eligible for parental leave, Tamara thought it prudent to reduce your contacts to people who are aware of the child. It is quite amusing, actually. She and Prudence have taken to planning your baby shower for when you return. You will have to talk them out of the theme.”
“I don’t even want to know,” Tim closes his eyes. “I feel so wildly under qualified to have a baby before my eighteenth birthday. Let alone one that will experience the public scrutiny that Bruce did when his parents were murdered. And this will only be more insane considering the other parent involved. I can’t even be honest about who she is, let alone what she is.”
“Tamara is working on a cover story.”
And truly, thank everything for that woman.
“I hope she thinks of something better than just blaming Lex Luthor like I was going to do.”
Z snorts, his arm pulling Tim closer. It’s quiet between them for a moment as Tim tries to reconcile the family he left behind with the one who Z believes is desperate to find him.
“Timothy,” Z interrupts his thoughts, tone serious, turning to face him. Locking eyes with the man, Tim feels like a little kid again. “You do not have to do this alone. You will not do this alone. You have a village, you just need to accept it. You saved Owens and I. You kept Prudence alive. We owe you our lives. Not a debt, but you have our loyalty. I believe the Foxes simply find you the most likable of the Waynes and do defend you with every breath they have. I know you are not speaking to them, but your Titans and the Bats are just as eager, if not more, to find you.”
“I know, I know. I just…I don’t know if they’ll ever forgive me for the things I’ve done,” Tim whispers softly, eyes washing over the cloning chamber. “And the things I’ll do to keep her safe. I’m not the same boy they knew. I’m not Robin anymore. I don’t think Conner can love me like this. I’m not sure if anyone would. I’ve lied to everyone over and over and haven’t once tried to fix it. I’ve fucked it all up again.”
“They do not need to know everything, Timothy,” Z says with an air of finality. “I do not need to know everything, and I was there for a majority of it. They need you to let them love you and the rest can be worked out later on.”
His throat feels like he’s swallowing broken glass.
“I think I’m a little broken.”
“Then let this little girl of yours heal something within your heart that is telling you that you do not deserve that feeling you first had in that cave. When you were staring at the bat sigil with this look in your eye that I can never forget. Let her be your guiding star this time. The light in a very dark city. It will not be easy. Not with the people who care for you, but if you can find Batman across time and space, I am certain you can find a way to anchor your new reality in a way that is filled with the love and happiness you have been seeking.”
Tim swallows thickly as he turns to the side and presses his face into Z’s shoulder. He can get through this, he will get through this, he just needs to plan. He just needs a plan.
Tim thought he was handling it all so well. (Not really.) But between having his assassin trio readying his apartment and Tam’s iron-clad tap on their communications, no one else has been able to dig up anything on his whereabouts. Tim isn’t even sure why he’s hiding from the Bats and the Titans at this point. Lonnie has been back to visit a few times, but he takes the most indirect approach, claiming that Oracle had Huntress and Batgirl staking him. Tim has no clue if he’s letting Jor keep him captive because he is still a straight up coward and doesn’t want to tell Conner the truth (likely) or that he’s scared the Bats will take his baby away when she’s born (also a maybe) or if he’s just so utterly broken that he knows this self-isolation is what he deserves (…no comment). It does help calm his nerves to know that Jor won’t let Ra’s get close to him and his daughter when they’re so vulnerable like this.
Tim knows he’s made a powerful enemy, but he also knows staying away for Thanksgiving was less of a choice. Christmas and New Year’s? That was pointed. It’s mid-March now, and Tim has read about three hundred and twenty-one parenting books and seven hundred and nineteen “new mom” posts on Reddit. He’s made a spreadsheet with everything he’s learned and is maybe taking this obsession with trying to understand parenting to a whole new level.
The issue right now is that baby girl is almost done growing and Tim still hasn’t picked out her name. He’s got a list, but if he’s honest, he wants Kon’s input. It’s almost so depressingly bad how shitty he feels about that. But he also wants to talk to Tam and Ives about it too. Ives, surprisingly, took to the news pretty well that his friend was about to become a dad. He didn’t ask too much about how. He just said as long as Tim was safe and happy, that’s all that matters to him. It was the first time Tim truly wanted to cry, like burst into ugly and wretched tears, but he managed to hold it together on FaceTime, at least for a little. Ives had also asked when he’d be back, but Tim wasn’t sure. He just knew he wasn’t leaving Massachusetts until he had a daughter in his arms. Considering the timing, Tim only had a week or so left before he’d be back in Gotham.
It’s kind of crazy to think that he left his city feeling like he’d never have anything be normal ever again and he’s planning on returning with the knowledge that it won’t.
And really, he’d like to be a kid again, but that time is truly about to be over if it wasn’t already.
Now, if the Ides of March weren’t so ominous and minscious, Tim would like the month better. The sense of foreboding only gets worse the closer he is to his daughter’s birth.
It’s why he nearly has a heart attack when he hears fighting by the main entrance to the warehouse as the vestiges of a winter storm roll in. He jolts straight up out of bed, the wind howling above his head. Jor had built him a normal human-room set up in an old office on the second floor overlooking the main bay. Glancing at his clock he sees it’s 2:37 in the morning. Snagging his bo staff, he doesn’t even put on a mask before he’s vaulting out of his room and onto the catwalk. Sprinting towards the cloning chamber section, the yelling gets louder. He’s almost made it to where he can at least see what’s going on.
And suddenly, he’s off the catwalk.
Someone’s got him wrapped in their arms but he’s facing away from them so he slams his bo into their shoulder, right at a cluster of nerve that would’ve made anyone drop him. And maybe doing that over open air is a bad idea, but Tim is still not awake yet, so cut him some slack.
When he doesn’t drop automatically, he twists his neck and catches bright blue eyes staring back at him.
“Conner?”
His best friend is spitting mad. If Tim couldn’t feel his arms shaking, he could still tell the guy was just barely holding back the lasers.
“Tim.”
And yeah, Tim’s in deep shit from that tone. It’s almost even more startling when Tim is yanked right out of Kon’s grip. Tim’s come to know Jor’s grip pretty well. The man is just as touchy, if not more, than Conner is most of the time. Clark is usually humanly-playful with Jon and Lois, but he’s seen Kara and Lena. He knows that it’s a Kryptonian thing not to have personal space, even if makes the humans they’re with uncomfortable sometimes.
“Kon-El, I suggest you keep yourself under control. Timothy does not need the additional stress.” Jor’s voice is firm, but Kon is most certainly displeased by the fact that Tim is no longer in his arms.
“Put him down,” Kon grits out.
Tim swallows, not removing his eyes from his best friend, even as he just hangs kind of limply in Jor’s grip. Jor, who, at this point, Tim fully believes won’t hurt him. But that doesn’t mean this can’t escalate. Jor rolls his eyes, slowly lowering them down to the ground. Once Tim’s feet touch the concrete flooring, he takes a step away from Jor, but doesn’t move anywhere else. As he goes to open his mouth, to say literally anything to try and diffuse this situation, three things happen at once.
First, one of the skylights shatters and Cassie comes flying in with Bart on her back.
Second, his assassin trio slams open the front door, weapons drawn.
Lastly, the Batclan emerges from the shadows, anger evident on their faces as Bruce lets out a choked, “Tim.”
Normally, if Tim wasn’t about to become a dad, if he wasn’t hiding his entire life in the shadows and if he had just gone to therapy, maybe he could’ve prevented this clusterfuck. Instead, he lets his instincts take over. Not his Robin-bred ones. Not even the Janet Drake social butterfly and businesswoman ones. But the instincts of a kid who is in way over his head and desperately needs a Xanax or something.
He bursts into tears.
Immediately everyone is shouting, people moving to get to him. Pru smashes her fist into the Red Hood helmet, her foot catching Batgirl’s extended leg by surprise and they both go down hard. Z releases nets he’d set up as a booby-trap security measure after a night of binging old school Scooby-Doo movies together. It snags Cassie and Bart before either can move, made of material strong enough to give someone like Jor trouble. It only manages to clip Robin’s legs so he gets knocked off balance. Black Bat avoids everything, dodging Owens’ dart shots like the pro she is, only barely managing to keep Nightwing from getting one. Jor has Batman by the collar in one hand and Conner in the other. They’re all screaming.
Tim’s nighttime migraine ramps up to 156% and he simply cannot stop crying. He can barely breathe with how much he’s sobbing, not even registering how he’s slipped down to his knees, making this increasingly pitiful noises in between his wails. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know how the hell this happened. He’s held in the emotions for so long, kept himself upright through months and months of this but the second his dad says his name?
Gone.
Somehow, Robin is the first one to reach him, cape already flying off and wrapped around his shoulders before he can register it. His little brother is speaking, but Tim is currently choking on the tears cascading down his face.
In an instant, Black Bat has stretched herself over his back, pressing into him like a personal weighted blanket. Nightwing’s hands are around his cheeks, wiping away the tears. He knows he needs to cut it out, he needs to stop this shit from getting worse and speak the fuck up, but the weight of everything from his dad’s not-real-death to Jor’s quiet assertion that he’s about to be a dad to a little girl slams into him with the weight of Titans Tower. He’s held back for so long, keeping things under wraps for the sake of his sanity and for other people’s comfort.
It’s almost kind of funny when he actually passes out, his siblings lying him on his side as he gasps at nothing, air not making it into his lungs. Everything’s a little blurry, but it isn’t until Bruce’s cowl-less face appears in his vision that he’s able to suck in a lungful of air and promptly knock the fuck out.
Tim doesn’t love how dramatically he made his exit to the mess currently looming in his warehouse. He doesn’t feel super pleased with leaving his assassins to deal with the aftermath. He does feel a little vindicated that Jor has to answer for this shit before he does. Because the cloning set up, all on him yeah fine. The baby currently growing with Tim’s DNA? On that man to hell and high tide for real. He wakes up in his bed, which is a nice change from lying on the cold, hard concrete floor with the scent of snow and ice still leeching in. He’s still in his Superboy T-shirt and Cass’ old running shorts. The covers are pulled up to his chin, and he can feel someone’s hand running through his hair. It’s nice, casual affection that makes him want to cry again.
Good thing that he seems to be all out of tears for now, because that emotional whiplash would straight up kill him.
There’s at least four people in the room, all of whom are brooding. He can hear chatter just outside the door. Pru’s slurry English accent biting a snarky comment. Bart’s fifty-million alphabet soup salad. Steph’s snickering. It’s comforting. But he’s fully aware that he’s gotta open his eyes and face whoever decided to stand sentinel in his room. It’s daunting to confront everyone he’s been avoiding for months, but it’s not like he can really help himself now.
Blinking away the sleep, he finds that the person at his bedside is his dad. Bruce is running his fingers through his hair, which is significantly longer than it was when Bruce last saw him in person. Even longer than before he got trapped in the timestream. Dick is right behind their dad, staring at Tim like he’ll disappear at any moment. Across room, Jor stands by the door, keeping people in and forcing people out. His face is pinched, so it seems like someone tore into him for something or other. Maybe keeping Tim hostage. Maybe letting Tim hide away like the little coward he is. Maybe both. And of course, on the other side of his bed, is Conner.
“Hi, honey,” Bruce calls softly.
“Hi,” he croaks back, voice hoarse from the sobfest he started.
“How are you doing?”
Tim looks between all four of them again. He doesn’t want to answer honestly, partially because he doesn’t have an answer and also because he’s bound to hurt someone. When he doesn’t respond, Bruce sighs. Tim eyes Jor, who raises an eyebrow at him back. Tim knows what that means.
“If you would like an explanation—” Jor begins, taking a step forward.
Conner, of course, slams a hand into his chest, pressing him back. He snarls, his face contorting with an anger Tim hasn’t seen in a long time. “You don’t get to speak for him.”
Bruce gently hands him a glass of water as he watches his best friend continues to growl at Jor in a way Tim doesn’t quite understand. Did Jor tell them already? Do they know about the baby? He looks between the two of them like he is about to set off a Kryptonite bomb. “What’s going on?”
Dick pushes past Bruce, hands already reaching out to snag Tim right off the bed and plops him in his lap. It’s comforting and pretty much everything Tim has been missing for months. His grip on Tim is tight, but not to the point of pain. After all this time without a lot of long-term positive physical contact from family (aside from Lonnie’s occasional side swipes, Z and Owen’s brief and gentle hugs, Pru’s shoulder slaps, and whatever the hell Jor does), Tim sinks right into his embrace.
“Tim,” Bruce says softly, drawing his attention back. “We’re just looking to understand what’s going on. Why you are here with Jor-El and why you didn’t contact us. What’s going on with that…biological experiment in the bay. Jor has been offering to explain, but we would like to hear what you have to say first, honey.”
Tim feels the tension tighten in his chest. His face flushes in a way that he knows means that he’s about to have another panic attack. He’s had plenty since coming to New England. He hasn’t cried, not like what happened earlier, during this entire time, but he has had some proper mental breakdowns irregardless.
Jor, who has been watching Tim with the same intensity that he’s done for the past several months, shakes off Conner’s grip and kneels right down in front of Tim. Bruce is very clearly glaring at the man, his fingers twitching toward what must be a hidden batch of krytonite, but Tim knows what the Krytonian is asking without needing to alert the people in this room that Tim quite literally isn’t capable of getting through this initial conversation without losing it for a second time. It’s not going to please anyone, but each moment Tim considers opening his mouth, the more he feels like someone has shoved cotton into it and then forced him to gargle with kerosene before holding a lit match to his lips. Even with all the practice time he’s had with Z and Owens (Pru did NOT want to get into the emotional part of this shit, and Tim can’t even blame her), it’s a more daunting task than he thought it would be considering the three people he feels like he owes the most detailed conversations to are looking at him with eyes full of absolute concern.
Jor tilts his head and Tim nods.
Dick, who is still wrapped around Tim like a child holding a teddy bear, tenses. But Jor just straightens, taking the empty seat next to Tim’s dresser. Kon is still hovering by the door, clearly upset with Tim seeming to defer to Jor.
“Timothy is allowing me,” good phrasing, Tim thinks, even if it’ll just make his family more mad, “to provide you with the most pertinent details regarding this…situation. Kon-El, I suggest you and Batman sit down for this.”
Reluctantly, both do, Bruce pressing right up against he and Dick, where Kon has turned, half facing Jor and partially eyeing Tim like he’ll evaporate if anyone leaves him alone for a second.
“It began several months ago,” Jor starts. Tim begins to zone out, eyeing the room he’s been living in for the past several months with a renewed interest. He’s never really decorated, knowing full well that he intended to return to Gotham, but Jor had kept putting items in his room, from the dresser to the plush beanbag on the other side of the room. Tim wasn’t quite sure what to make of his life at this point. As Jor vaguely glossed over his previous kidnapping of Tim, Tim’s own Brucequest and previous cloning attempts, and Jor’s discovery of the facility, Tim watches three of the people he cares about most.
Bruce’s jaw is clenched, and he clearly has a lot of big emotions he won’t discuss in present company. Tim knows his dad, knows his Batman. The man isn’t disappointed, surprisingly enough, he’s stressed. Worried. Sad, even. Dick has a similar look wash over his face. There isn’t anger or frustration with Tim’s decisions, rather, it’s guilt. Concern. Heartbroken pain, even, each time Jor recounts something Tim told him about this whole situation.
When Tim finally looks at Kon, at his best friend, his Superboy, he’s staring back at him. Even with Jor droning on about the advancements in technology and Tim’s scientific exploration and other Kryptonian superiority-complex stuff, not once does Conner look away. Tim knows he’s probably projected his pathetic little sad face his mom taught him when he was a child to manipulate people at galas into working with their company because their son would be so sad to see progress lost, or whatever. But Conner Kent knows him. Conner can see right through his slumped shoulders and knows that Tim isn’t happy or pleased with Jor. That he’s still in potentially a deep bout of concerning depression and everything he did to get Bruce back (and also not coping well with that loss or anyone else’s for that matter) has left an indelible mark of guilt.
Not shame. Because Tim isn’t ashamed. He’s not ashamed for trying to clone his best friends or for getting lost in his grief about his dad. (And his other dad. And Dana. Or Darla and Bart. Or—you know what he had a shitty year, let’s be real.) He feels guilty about the way he’s gone about this entire thing: from leaving Gotham to his fallout with Cassie and everything up until leaving this facility only partially guarded and definitely not shut down.
There’s no shame in him when Jor describes how Tim failed, just guilt.
Conner knows this, and yet…he’s still looking at Tim with this intensity that makes him shiver. It doesn’t wane, even when Jor proudly goes on to explain that he did something he knew Tim would never approve of, especially with Conner’s return: making a child using the DNA of Kon that Tim had on hand and a vial of Tim’s own DNA that Jor had kept after letting him go that first time. The cogs in his brother and father’s heads have been spinning rapidly to keep up right until that point because Dick butts in for the first time.
“You did what with my brother’s DNA?”
“And Kon-El’s. I had figured—”
“No please repeat what you just said before that?” Dick growls out in a tone so low that most Gotham street criminals would absolutely think he’s just Bruce in the Nightwing costume.
Jor sighs with any eye roll. B’s own eyebrow twitches and Tim can tell his dad is nearing a point where he yanks out the kryptonite and stabs the man. “As I said, your little bird impressed me. So when I let him go, I kept his DNA. After finding his elaborate set up and seeing a quite impressive amount of attempts, I thought I could, how do you say, lend a hand? Creating Kyrptonians from nothing, especially with your planet’s existing technological desert, is quite difficult. Timothy managed quite well for his age and his available equipment. But as seen with Kon-El, expanding Kryton’s legacy must come with the incorporation of human DNA. So who better to be the parent of my…great-granddaughter than one who is quite adept, intelligent, and capable in his own right. It is simply fortuitous that I happened upon—”
“You stalked me,” Tim cuts in, his voice bland and throat still a little dry.
Jor shakes his head, “I was, as you said, ‘keeping tabs’ on those who intrigued me. You happen to be one of them. Nonetheless, it made sense, Timothy. Kon-El had returned, but I knew that it was only a matter of time that something should happen again. He might not live to create a continued Kryptonian legacy. So I utilized both of their DNA to create a child. She is almost ready to see the sun for the first time.” Jor’s smile still kind of freaks Tim out, but the man is apparently immune to the threatening looks everyone else is throwing at him. He turns to Bruce with a kind of affection look, in the way in-laws might look at one another over the accomplishments of their shared blood. “You should be quite proud. Timothy’s skillset at deceiving Ra’s al Ghul and his horde of genetic sycophants—”
Tim’s heart stops. Jor hadn’t gone into much about that in his explanation, because he knows Tim wants to—no, needs to—talk about it first—
“—is quite unmatched. I do believe his attempt to murder the boy was simply his ego overwhelming his prefrontal cortex and all rational thought. After all, why would he also—”
“Jor,” Tim tries to lunge out of Dick’s arms at that, but his brother holds on tightly. “Stop. You promised me.”
The Krytonian’s head tilts as he pauses, eyes washing over Tim’s strained face. “Ah. Yes, I will not discuss that further. Not until Timothy has spoken with you all. I do…vaguely apologize for keeping him here. When Anarky first alerted him about his daughter, I simply could not risk someone coming to shut this down. I had to protect my great-granddaughter above all, even from her own family.”
There is silence in the room, oppressive and heavy, even as Tim’s eyes find Kon’s again. He wants to say something, anything, to make the people he loves understand that he’s royally fucked this all up, but he can’t find it in him to say it while everyone’s there.
“I think that’s enough for now. Tim needs more water a bit of rest before we continue this conversation. Jor, I do believe our father would like to speak to you privately.”
Thank god for Dick Grayson, he thinks, as his brother sets him back down on the bed gently, speaking softly to Tim, as he scans the room. He gestures to the door, pulling their dad up with him and pushing Jor out. Kon is still standing there, gazing down at Tim, even as Dick calls for him. “Conner, we should—”
“Kon can stay, it’s okay, Dick,” Tim gets out, voice shaky. “We have some things to talk about.”
Dick doesn’t leave for a second, arms twitching like he wants to drag Kon out and stay in the room himself. But something on Tim’s face softens his shoulders and he nods, gently shutting the door behind him.
For a moment, Kon just stands there. Tim sits back up on his bed, back against the headboard.
“Conner—”
In a moment, his best friend is no longer at the door. Instead, he feels the TTK wrap around him, gentle and soft. Kon’s face is suddenly in front of him, a hand on his shoulder and one on his hip as he gets settled right in front of him. “Tim, why didn’t you just tell me about this? About everything? Why couldn’t I just find you? You’ve been gone for months, I was so worried something happened. The rumors, god, Rob, the rumors were terrifying. I thought I had returned only to lose you again.”
His heart slams into his ribcage, burning in his chest.
“Conner—”
“Tim, I couldn’t find you for months, I thought—I don’t really know what I thought, I just knew you were no where I could track you down. I thought when I came back…well, I don’t know. But, I just wanted to talk and now, Jor’s had you this whole time? It’s just like I couldn’t protect you again—”
“Conner—”
“—and something happened to you again and I wasn’t there—”
“Kon!” Tim finally raises his voice a little, hands on Conner’s face, “I’m sorry.”
His Superboy falls silent for just a moment. Tim can’t understand why he isn’t mad, why he isn’t screaming or telling Tim that he never wants to see him again. But Kon seems to see Tim’s question scribbled across his face. “Why are you sorry?”
“For the cloning attempts,” he starts. “That I tried. I’m not ashamed that I tried, I would be lying if I said I was, but I am sorry that I was wrong about it either way. I shouldn’t have, but I think where I was at, I couldn’t consider never seeing you again. I’m sorry for leaving this place behind for Jor-El to find and do what he did. I never would have thought—but anyways. I’m sorry for leaving Gotham, for not returning your phone calls or texts or emails or carrier pigeon messages, which I still have questions about, or just keeping myself away because I couldn’t face your anger and hurt after losing you once. I can’t know that this is the last time you’ll ever want to see me—”
“Is that what you think?” His best friend interrupts, tugging Tim’s face back up from where he started to look down. Kon’s eyes are as bright and as blue as they’ve always been. Tim’s been wondering if their daughter will get the curls and Kon’s eye color or if she’ll be as pale as Tim with Janet’s eye shape. “That I’d never want to see you again?”
“Kon, I tried to clone you, knowing that it wouldn’t be you—”
“Tim, I don’t care—”
“—and I lied to you and let Jor keep me here—”
“You know he wouldn’t have let you go even if you found a way to subdue him—”
“—and I did terrible things because I couldn’t live without you—”
“You were hurting!”
“—and I can’t be someone you want to be around, I just can’t, I’m not a good person or a good hero even, I’m fucked up at the very least and maybe actually not fit to be a parent—”
“Tim—”
“—and I love this baby, Kon, I want her so much it’s like a physical ache when I think about not having her. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more. I never knew I could love something that doesn’t exist this much, but I do. And I want her, but she wasn’t planned and wasn’t something you ever agreed to—”
“Rob—”
“—and if you want nothing to do with her or I, it’s fine, it’s fine, I can be her dad and you don’t have to be anything, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want—”
“Tim, please—”
“—and I know that you must think I’m fucking crazy, because no one else does this shit and no one tried to clone you when you were dead—”
“Rob, ya gotta let me—”
“—but I couldn’t live without you, I was losing everyone and I couldn’t lose you and I did, I lost you and I lost Bart and I never, ever got to tell you—”
“Tell me what?”
“—that I love you or how much you mean to me because I’m in love with you—”
Tim’s ramble comes to an abrupt end because Kon isn’t looking at him from an arm’s length away anymore. His lips are on Tim’s and his eyes are closed and Tim can’t help it. He kisses Kon back.
It’s functionally not the end-of-the-world scenario Tim imagined this might come out in. It’s not even an end-of-one-single-city scenario that Tim could’ve predicted this happening out of the blue. But Conner is kissing him like they’re both about to die and Tim just has to hold on when his best friend press him right back into the bed, pressing himself between Tim’s thighs as the grip on his waist tightens.
There are very few thoughts in Tim’s head right now that aren’t simply him repeating KonKonKonConnerConnerKonKon over and over.
Eventually, Tim does need to breathe, but when Conner pulls back as Tim gasps down air, his something or other locks onto his neck, teeth and all. It’s incredibly…possessive in a way Tim has never really seen from any of his partners, or even from Kon before. Tim shivers in his grip, Kon pressing him further into the bed as his hands wander. For his part, Tim is gripping Kon’s shoulders, holding on as his head spins. When enough air enters his lungs, Kon is back on his mouth, hungry and all-consuming.
As much as Tim would welcome an escalation, neither of them are in the right headspace for it. They need to talk more, outline boundaries, and Tim needs to tell him about Paris so that it doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass when the trauma inevitably slaps him in the face again, maybe during fun times. They’re also not physically in the right space considering Tim’s siblings and dad are probably ears to the wall, Jor can literally see straight into the room, and all of Tim’s friends would try and hype them up and make fun of them which might embarrass him to death.
Not to mention their unborn daughter is still growing right below them so it’s not an ideal time.
They do eventually slow down, Tim’s heart racing all throughout his chest. Even when Kon pulls back for a second, just to stare down at how flustered and marked up Tim is, he’s got this dopey grin on his face. Tim does yank him back down so they’re back together again.
Lying side-by-side, Kon tugs him closer by the waist, almost so they’re nose-to-nose. He kisses Tim again, much softer, much more loving.
It’s so gentle and sweet that Tim can feel the tears prickle in his eyes. “Timmy, tell me about her?”
Tim blinks. “What?”
“About our daughter, ya goof. Tell me about her.”
“But—Kon, you never said—”
Conner groans, rolling over so he’s back on top of Tim. His best friend is broad in his shoulders, his hips—pretty much everywhere he can be—so Tim can’t go anywhere, can’t do anything but look at his Superboy. “Tim, you know I’m not Clark. And you’re not Lex. This might not be the most ideal situation, considering we’re not adults and we can’t really explain her existence, but she’s going to be ours. I’ve only had so many things that have been mine before, Rob. Young Justice is one. My name is another. She’s going to be mine. And if you want…”
Conner’s face turns an interesting shade of red considering he’s the one fully pressing Tim down into his mattress. Tim decides to throw him a bone. “If I want…”
“You can be mine too. And I can be yours. Rao above, I’ve loved you for years. I’m in love with you. Why do you think I went so fucking crazy when I couldn’t find you? Especially when I figured out Jor had you? I thought I would lose you before we could finally be together. Before I could ever tell you that’s what I’ve wanted for year before this?”
Tim can’t help it. He kisses him again. Little ones. Over and over.
“Yes,” Tim says between kisses, “god, yes, yes, yes! I love you.”
Kon growls at that, his hands moving from face and hip to slip under his shirt. Tim can barely keep his own hands from ripping Kon’s shirt off as Kon does something with his tongue that makes his toes curl.
“I love you too.”
Kon’s hands can’t stop touching skin once he starts. Tim feels the TTK do the same, running over each and every inch, drawing out a long groan. Nipping playfully at Conner’s lip, he can barely hold on tight enough before his best friend—his partner—has gripped him through his shorts. “You’re teasing me?”
Tim snickers, and the coy look sliding onto his face without his permission. “As if you haven’t been teasing me with your TTK?”
“I can do better than tease, Boy Wonder.”
Kon starts to make good on his promise, sliding Tim’s shirt up his stomach, inch by painstaking inch with just his TTK as his hands slip under Tim’s shorts. Tim melts, tugging at the back of Kon’s own shirt, trying to pull it up.
The two of them get so lost in each other that neither is aware when the door snicks open.
“Kon-El,” a voice snarls out, “I do hope you are not defiling my brother in this godforsaken warehouse after he had been kidnapped by a relative with your alien DNA?”
Damian. Oh my fucking god.
Kon retracts his hands at breakneck speed, tugging Tim’s clothes back into place before leaping off of him and across the room.
Tim scrambles up, leaning back on his forearms as his shoulders hit his headboard. Damian is, in fact, standing in the doorway, a shadow over his face, but his eyes glowing green.
“Kid—”
“Tt, I know you have been experiencing a bout of overwhelming emotions after the events of today, Kent, but I suggest you keep your hands to yourself lest you want to lose them.”
Kon winces, eyeing Damian like he’s the grenade he truly is. Damian slides into the room, pressing the door shut firmly behind him. He takes in Tim’s mussed up state and what feel like bite marks on his neck and shoots a glare at Kon again. Thank god he doesn’t have X-ray vision too and can see the bruises on his hips.
Tim watches as his little brother rounds the bed, their eyes connecting. For a moment, Damian just stares at him. And then, his brother is leaping at him, arms wrapping around his neck, face pressed into Tim’s hair. It takes a second to react, as Tim feels himself take in the moment as it registers. And then he’s gripping Damian back just as tightly, because that’s his little brother. It doesn’t matter if he tried to kill Tim. Jason did. Cass has been brainwashed to in the past. Only Dick hasn’t, but the emotional crash out they had should count. Damian is his family, his little brother, and that’s the one thing Tim has been desperately trying to be okay living without through this entire ordeal.
Perhaps the most surprising thing is when he feels Damian’s tears, all silent and warm. Tim can’t even hold his own back.
When Damian speaks, it’s surprising not in English. And not even the League dialect of Arabic. It’s his own language.
“죄송합니다. 저는 정말로 나쁜 형이었습니다. 저는 당신의 가족이 되고 싶습니다.”
“당신은 항상 내 형제였어요, 데미안. 내 머리에 총을 겨누고 있어도 당신을 사랑해요. 당신을 사랑하고, 당신을 그리워했어요.”
“저는 결코 당신에게 다시는 어떤 일도 일어나지 않도록 약속합니다.”
It’s wishful thinking, on Damian’s behalf, to think that he could protect Tim when Tim is literally the one who puts himself in these situations half the time. But Tim is happy to hear that Damian cares, that Damian missed him the way Tim missed Damian.
With Damian’s arms around his neck, Tim’s eyes prickle with tears again. He has so much to tell his family, and he can feel his heart thud thud thud in his chest. He has a lot to tell Damian alone, but at least he has the time now. When his brother pulls away, he extends a hand, pulling Tim to his feet. Kon is at the door, hand on the knob and Tim knows what happens next.
They go out there, Tim explains anything and everything he can to the people that need to know, and he leaves this warehouse with a baby on his hip.
Time to face the music, no matter how the symphony seems to swell.
Everyone takes a moment to pull Tim into their own hug, their own mini little reunion. Pulling on a sweatshirt was a good choice, considering when he looked into the mirror before he and Damian exited the room, Damian started cursing under his breath about neutering Kryptonians and a kryptonite chastity belt—and yeah, Tim gets it because the second he catches sight of his neck, he’s rifling through his drawers and tossing on the Nightwing hoodie he had stashed away. Damian had nodded his approval, glaring at Conner as they walked out, heading down the stairs.
It’s still freezing in the warehouse. Jor hates the cold most of the time, mostly because the sun doesn’t shine in March in New England, but there’s no way to retrofit the building without drawing attention to themselves.
With the winter still fully churning on, the chill slides right down into his bones. He can hardly feel it between Cass’ face tucked into his neck, Jason’s arms clutching him close, or even Steph’s punch to the shoulder. Cassie and Bart don’t even bother to wait for one another, Cassie just lifts him into her arms, Bart clinging to his back like a genetically engineered super monkey.
Owens patiently waits before tugging Tim in, his hands yanking Pru and Z in too.
They all settle in for an early morning breakfast as Alfred, Babs, and Helena FaceTime in. Z cooks with Jason’s help because Jor is forced to sit as Babs politely threatens him, Helena offers to relieve his head from his neck, and Alfred, most surprisingly, fully cusses him out.
Even Bruce’s jaw is on the floor by the time Alfred is finished. Jor, for once in his life, looks abashed and deflated at the tongue lashing he got.
“Now, I suggest you remember that while Master Timothy has been incredibly polite and accepting of your inability to allow him to return home to his family, I will not be. I expect him and my young great-granddaughter to come as soon as time permits. If you would like to remain on this plane of existence, I suggest you heed my warning. Because I will find you. I was a hunter and a spy long before I had Master Timothy in my life. Just because I have let those abilities rest does not mean they have disappeared. If you do anything to harm my grandson, if you make one wrong move against his daughter, I will hunt you until the sun dies out and you do as well. Do I make myself abundantly clear, Jor-El?”
“Yes, Mr. Pennyworth.”
“I miss you too, Alfie,” Tim butts in, hip checking Jor out of the way. Alfred visibly softens. Next to Alfred, Babs locks eyes with him. Behind them, Helena is already mass ordering baby toys, muttering to herself about Zatanna magically strengthening them. “I’ve missed you and Helena too, Babs.”
“Come home soon, kid, or else I will track you down.”
A promise and a threat, how badass of her.
As he eats his waffles wedged between Kon and Dick, who refuse to leave his side, he sends a text to Lonnie and Tam (and Luke and Tiff).
To: whimsical & effervescent (witty & erratic)
horde of bad habits: don’t get mad
the people’s prince!: tam is already mad at that
queen of y’all: I’m mad
HOT (mess): please tell me a second baby hasn’t hit that chamber
chaos gremlin: he always starts off like this, oh lon I’ve lost my spleen, oi guess my dads in the time stream, haha imma be a dad 😘
chaos gremlin: Tim are you alive that’s the question
horde of bad habits: you guys suck
horde of bad habits: I’m alive
horde of bad habits: and no tiff, no more babies
horde of bad habits: yj found me
the people’s prince!: fuck
horde of bad habits: and the bats
HOT (mess): FUCK LOUDER
horde of bad habits: and I had a mental breakdown 🤗
queen of y’all: TIM THAT IS NOT THE RIGHT EMOJI FOR THIS SITCH
horde of bad habits: ya but my assassins also showed up so
HOT (mess): no they did not
hi im FOLLY: course we did
ZED: Timothy wept and then passed out
the people’s prince!: dude
ZED: we had to dodge the attempts to get to him and I do not think I have ever seen either Nightwing nor Batman get that close to killing someone as when Jor-El stepped in their way
you Owe me money: it was a wild fight guys 0/10 do not recommend
hi im FOLLY: gimme another six espresso shots and I coulda taken them
ZED: no
HOT (mess): pruuuuu did you break anyone’s nose yet???
ZED: not the point, Tiffany
you Owe me money: trust me she tried
HOT (mess): ugh, pru i was bettin on you to at least smashing someone’s face in
hi im FOLLY: i trieddddd
horde of bad habits: I mean she kicked Jason’s helmet in so that counts right
queen of y’all: okay, love that for her, but WHO THE FUCK TOLD THEM WHERE TO FIND YOU I AM GOING TO RING SOMEONE’S NECK 😊
you Owe me money: you can trust it wasn’t me or z or pru cuz we had to fight them and i can say getting shocked by nightwings little zappers is NOT FUN
ZED: they also did not follow us because we got here after they did
chaos gremlin: hey I hear that silence, no one look at me either! I’ve known this asshole longer than any of you guys and he scares me more than you do
chaos gremlin: Luke’s been quiet tho
the people’s prince!: considering I still don’t know where in ne y’all are in, not me
the people’s prince!: also fuck you Lonnie
HOT (mess): I also hear the silence and will remind you I am the head of HR…if anything they must have recorded our phone calls us cause we have not once talked about it over text
horde of bad habits: I’m pretty sure it was O so don’t worry, she’s too good to be stopped
queen of y’all: concerning. also, do you need IMMEDIATE extraction? do you want me to send dad? I want to watch him eviscerate someone
horde of bad habits: no no
horde of bad habits: but they know about the baby
horde of bad habits: and Jor
horde of bad habits: and the cloning attempts
horde of bad habits: but not about the spleen
horde of bad habits: at least idk
horde of bad habits: I’m not sure what Jor was yapping about
hi im FOLLY: no one knows about the two of ya necking in ya room yet, do they?
horde of bad habits: stfu pru b4 I break your nose again
hi im FOLLY: someone’s sensitive
horde of bad habits: do you like living
hi im FOLLY: didn’t get enough of him yet didya
hi im FOLLY: that stick of ya’s is still so far up ya ass isn’t it
horde of bad habits: if you so much as speak aloud
horde of bad habits: it’s bad enough Dami walked in, I do NOT need anyone else knowing shit
queen of y’all: pardon me, but WHO WHAT WHEN
ZED: Prudence is referring to Superboy
the people’s prince!: no fucking way are you serious???? is my ship sailing?????????
you Owe me money: considering the state of boss’s neck rn…
HOT (mess): omg omg it’s happening it’s happening
queen of y’all: I NEED PROOF
you Owe me money: if boss takes off his sweatshirt later, I’ll send a picture
the people’s prince!: I fucking knew it I called it I knew this man would be gone on Tim and y’all wanted to clown on me
you Owe me money: the pool is gonna be sweet for you when we get back
chaos gremlin: I’m mad I didn’t do sooner
chaos gremlin: so much money
HOT (mess): money is great sure BUT I AM THRIVING
HOT (mess): my crops are watered
HOT (mess): my grass is green
HOT (mess): Tim’s about to get dicked down
HOT (mess): life is good
horde of bad habits: I actually hate all of you
horde of bad habits: also what betting pool
Across from him at the table, Owens stands up and starts sprinting. Pru is on his tail. Z shakes his head as everyone looks at them in confusion.
“Fucking Pru,” Tim growls out into his tea.
Z sighs, leaning over to pour him more hot water, tossing in a sugar cube so Tim doesn’t have to think about it. “You may break her nose once more for that if you think it is necessary.”
Tim presses his forehead to the table.
“I should’ve left her in the desert.”
“Perhaps,” Z muses, setting another batch of pancakes on his plate. “But alas, you have her, Owens, and I for life.”
“So fun.”
“Eat and perhaps you can spend the rest of the day pondering if Tamara will show up with a blowtorch and her father.”
Dick’s eyes are pouring right into Tim, but the lack of energy to acknowledge and explain this whole thing keeps his head pressed to the cool wood, his own eyes squeezing to prevent light from getting through.
“You know Tam?”
“Mmm,” Z acknowledges. “We are employed by Wayne Enterprises. Timothy insisted that if we were going to call him ‘boss’ we should be paid a livable wage and begin to develop our pensions so we can retire one day. It is quite a ‘nice deal’ as Tiffany put it.”
“Tt you must be Timothy’s emergency contacts that are not Fox and Fox.”
Z nods, plating more food for Conner. “Owens and I, my prince. We know that Prudence should not be allowed any addition information when necessary.”
“And how the hell did that happen?” Jason demands, “’Cause last I remembered, ya were League of Assassins?”
“It’s a long story, Jason. Don’t worry, I stole them fair and square,” Tim sighs, lifting his head to chug his still burning hot tea before anyone can stop him. Jor, who is used to this, simply shakes his head as Jason shouts. A long story for fucking sure.
“Explain?” Cass asks, shoving Steph over so she can move closer to Tim.
“Uh, not now.”
“Please?”
“I’d rather die in that desert.”
Steph raises an eyebrow at him. “What desert?”
“Nothing!”
“Tim! What desert!!!!!”
He decides to say fuck it, and throws Jor under the bus.
“Maybe y’all should ask Jor why there’s a human-shaped laser mark on the back wall and why he had so much of my DNA from two years ago that was somehow still viable.”
He sprints towards his room before anyone can stop him.
“What do you want to call her?” Tim asks the next night as they watch over her cloning chamber. Jor said it’s only a matter of time before she arrives. Dick made a betting pool on whether or not she’ll arrive before or after his birthday. Considering it’s the 17th already, it’s anyone’s guess. “I had some ideas, but I did want to talk to you before I named her. Especially considering naming is a kind of sensitive topic for both of us.”
Conner nods, considering. “True, true. I’ve never named a baby. The only one I know the story of is Jon, which is obviously just Pa’s name. Do we want to do something like that?”
“Maybe,” Tim purses his lips. “It’s not like there’s a shortage of names we could riff off of. We’ve got two Cassandras, two Marthas, and a horde of random family members between us.”
“What else do we got to work with?”
“Bart—”
“Babe, you know I love him. He knows we love him, but no.”
“Cissie, Anita, Greta. We cannot call her Lobo. Only other people we’ve got are my mom, Janet, my stepmom, Dana, Lois, Helena, Kara, Kate, Babs, and Steph. I guess if I don’t throw Tam and Tiff in there they’ll gut me or get Pru to do it—”
“Side note that we need to go over how you ended up being reverse adopted by three assassins, but okay. Anyways, should we, I dunno, look at bird names? Or flowers?”
“Are we flower people?” Tim asks, forking through parent forums on the computer as Kon presses against his back, slumping right over him, one arm wrapped around his stomach, pulling Tim right into his chest.
“Dude, I’ve got no clue.”
Perusing baby name websites doesn’t give them any clarity either.
“Oh god,” Tim whispers, pressing his fingers into his forehead, only to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“What?” Conner asks, wrapping his arms more firmly around his waist.
“She needs a Korean and a Kryptonian name. My mom would come back to life to glare at me and ramble off fifty-seven facts about the importance of cultural inheritance and Kara would kill us if we don’t.” And Jor-El would not be pleased, but Tim doesn’t bring him up.
“Fuck.”
“I know,” he sighs. “She’s gonna sound like a comic book character from hell.”
“Disco hell.”
“God, you’re such a dork.”
“Says the nerd.”
“We’re getting off topic! She’s about to be born with no name, Kon.”
“Just like her ol’ man! That’s my girl,” Kon pressed a kiss to his head as Tim opens a document he’s titled ‘girl names that don’t make me want to die’ and starts typing.
“We are going to rapid-fire yes or no some of these and end up with like two or three per category.”
“What categories do we even have?”
“First, middle, Korean, and Kryptonian. We’re also going to have to consider her last name because I already have two and you technically have two and she’s not getting nine names or whatever.”
“God, why is this what scares me and not telling your family I intend to—”
Tim slaps a hand over his mouth. “Damian already wants to cut off certain parts of your anatomy. Don’t let Dick or Cass catch you sayin’ anything else. Jason’s been surprisingly chill, but he also has his own kryptonite stash he could use.”
“Harsh, but fair. Okay, bird, let’s fire away.”
They get through a sizable chunk of names. Part-way through, they ixnay the whole concept of a middle name. She can publicly have the Korean one so it makes their list shorter and easier.
“This would lowkey be quicker if she were a boy,” Tim laments. “I could’ve just named her after the best hero ever.”
“Who, Batman?”
Tim makes a face, “No. Listen, you know I love my dad, but I didn’t become Robin or figure out who he was because of Bruce Wayne. It was Dick Grayson. Even better, I could’ve just combined it with my other favorite hero.”
“You still have a hard on for Ted Kord?”
Rolling his eyes and nudging Kon, Tim laughs. “No, but I love Ted Kord’s brain. And Theodore is also, randomly, a Drake family name so plausible deniability and all that. Teddy Grayson Drake-Kent could’ve been a possibility.”
“Isn’t the sister in Good Luck, Charlie named Teddy?”
“Yeah, but we’re not naming our daughter Theodore.”
“Theodora? Theodosia?”
“And have her compared to Hamilton forever? Also that song makes me cry, so that would just be unbearable.”
“Okay, okay, bad idea. Let’s keep going.”
They toss any and all names that they like onto the document, only cutting them down to three per category when they have enough to red line and debate like there’s no tomorrow. It must take literal hours, but Tim doesn’t find himself minding whatsoever. It’s time with his best friend, his partner, and his future co-parent. It’s fun and light, and for once, Tim finds himself relaxing into Kon’s side as the list gets shorter and shorter.
“Okay,” Tim pushes back from the computer, twisting so he can look at Kon. “We’ve gotta say these out loud so when we inevitably yell for her because she’s doing something wildly unhinged, she’ll sound like a real person.”
Kon puts his hands on Tim’s thighs, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, grinning like the lovesick fool he is, “Let’s do this boy wonder.”
“Inara Mi-Cha Mara.”
“Kind of badass, if I do say so myself.”
“So, positive contender?”
“Yep, next up?”
“Sabrina Haesol Kaya.”
“It’s speaking to me.”
“Same, though I might swap out Haesol for Narae.”
“Mmm. Say it again?”
“Sabrina Narae Kaya.”
“I do like it. I also think Inara with the Kaya might be cool.”
“Like, Inara Mi-Cha Kaya?”
“Yeah, I like that.”
Tim types them out on the document, both versions so they can keep track. “Okay, last one up, you ready?”
“Willow Byeol Kaya.”
“Again, I like it.”
“Mmm. I might swap Byeol with Nalae too. I like Byeol, but…”
“Nalae is kinda cool. Let’s go with it.”
“Willow Nalae Kaya.”
“Yeah, you were right.”
The two of them stare at the list for a little bit, just contemplating. The cursor blinking back at them.
- Inara Mi-Cha Kaya
- Inara Mi-Cha Drake-Wayne Kent // Kaya Kon-El
- Sabrina Narae Kaya
- Sabrina Narae Drake-Wayne Kent // Kaya Kon-El
- Willow Nalae Kaya
- Willow Nalae Drake-Wayne Kent // Kaya Kon-El
“Kon,” Tim sighs, head tilted onto his Superboy’s shoulder. “Are we gonna sound nerdy for trying to name our kid after TV characters?”
“Yeah, I mean people will definitely flag that Inara’s from Firefly and corresponds to your little bisexual awakening stemming from Morena Baccarin and Nathan Fillion’s…everything. Or that we love our eventual crash out powerhouse and just didn’t want to go all out with the name ‘Buffy.’ And of course, that we like the OG magic girl and her talking black cat.” Kon says, a little grin on his face evident in his tone as he wraps an arm around Tim’s waist, tugging him even closer. “But she’s gonna be our little nerd. She’s gonna be queen of the nerds considering who her insane gaggle of relatives are. Also who cares? She’s our kid. She’s gonna be badass and independent and fun. But she can’t date until she’s forty!”
The laugh Tim lets out is the lightest he’s felt in years. Kon’s right, Tim considers, she’s gonna have some of the most powerful people in the world wrapped around her tiny little fingers in a matter of days…her nerdy little name is just a fun thing for the two of them.
Their daughter emerges from the chamber at 3:33 in the morning on the first day of spring. Dick is a little sad they won’t share a birthday, but Cass reminds him that just means cake two days in a row. She also won the betting pool so she’s just straight up vibing.
Tim holds her first, already crying as she sniffles into his chest, skin-to-skin ‘cause if he had to read all those articles about what to do with a newborn, he sure is hell gonna use them.
Most of their family lets Tim and Conner be for just a bit, in Tim’s room. Once they all look over her, whisper cute little things like how many weapons they’re gonna procure for her (Damian) or how many superhero onesies she’s gonna get in the mail this week (Dick), wrap themselves around Tim and ruffle his hair, they step out of the room. Tim can admit, it’s already incredibly overwhelming having a newborn, but each time he looks down at her tiny little face as she scrunches in her sleep, he falls more in love with her.
She could set everyone on fire and destroy the world and she’d still be his little girl.
“We have a baby,” Kon whispers over his shoulder, voice thick with emotion.
“She’s perfect. No other baby has ever been this perfect,” Tim hums back. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything or anyone as much as I love her. Sorry, babe.”
“It’s okay,” Kon says, his goofy ass grin crawling back onto his face as he gently drags Tim into his arms, settling them back against the headboard as Tim rocks their daughter. “I love her just as much. She’s perhaps the most wonderful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on in my relatively short life and with the rest of the internet crammed into my brain.”
Tim curls back into Conner, tracing her face with a finger. She’s warm. She runs warmer than normal babies, he figured out, since she’s got that Kryptonian DNA ever present.
“Inara Mi-Cha Kaya.”
“Kaya Kon-El.”
“Inara Mi-Cha Drake-Wayne Kent.”
“Damn,” Conner giggles, “she does sound like a comic book character.”
Her first full day in this world is marked by a lot of firsts.
The first time Kon changes a diaper (and fails horribly). The first time she feeds. The first time she opens her eyes wide enough that all he can see staring back at him are his own eyes. The first time she closes her fist around his finger. The first time Tim admits to himself that he misses his mother and Dana more than anything. That he’d want them back just so he could ask them questions. Is this how they felt about him? Did Dana want her baby this much? Is it normal to love something without any single question in his mind? This kind of blind faith?
No one answers his questions. Nothing ever really will. But he does start to write. He wants his daughter to know how he felt about her from the start. All the happiness and affection and absolute adoration. He wants to make it clear how unconditional his love for her is.
So he writes.
Meanwhile, his assassins are on their way back to Gotham, promising to make sure his apartment is ready for their return.
(He had them make her nursery sky-themed. Part of it was painted with little clouds and a sun peaking out of one corner of the room. The other was of the night sky, speckled with stars and comets and outlined in scientifically accurate constellations. Z had taken the liberty of building the crib using reinforced materials Jor helped them procure. Owens had bought approximately thirty-one different stuffed animals “so she’ll have one for every day of the month!” and hung up photos Tim had taken of Gotham back when he was still stalking Batman and Robin. Damian had been offended that he couldn’t paint something for her, so he already announced that when they returned he would be adding his own touches. Dick, Jason, and Steph were currently in competition to see who could order more superhero-themed baby clothes. Cass was focused on the basics, like soft blankets, so Babs and Alfred had taken over ordering everything else Helena had missed since. B had vetoed the mobile of batarangs though, just to be safe.)
Dick has already cried for about an hour over how small her fingers are. Cass is obsessed with her spiky, baby-soft, full-head of hair. Damian keeps sneaking photos and sketching relentlessly in a notepad he appropriated from Jor.
Bruce, in comparison, is most definitely taken with her. But he holds Tim first. He reaches for Tim before he does his baby.
It makes Tim want to cry again, all those emotions he felt when he dad was gone bubbling up back in his chest with no direct output.
“How’s my baby doing?” Bruce asks. “My baby and my baby’s baby.”
Tim peels his eyes away from where Dick is holding Inara and cooing like a pigeon.
“I’m okay.”
His dad grunts, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulders.
“I know we have a lot more to talk about,” Tim tries, but Bruce cuts him off with the press of a kiss to his head.
“We have plenty of time for that. Right now, it’s about you and Inara and Conner. What happened before…it can wait.”
Tim tosses himself fully into his dad’s arms, who scoops him right up like he’s a stupid little twelve-year-old Robin who fucked up something for the first time. But Bruce never makes him feel bad about it. Instead, he holds him in his arms, off his feet, like Tim isn’t seventeen. Like Tim isn’t a dad to a newborn. Like Tim is still his baby.
Even when Inara is passed from person to person, rocked by aunt and uncle alike (and yes, even grandpa/great-grandpa gets a turn), Tim stays in Bruce’s arms.
And not once does he let go.
For the first four months of Inara’s life, Tim and Conner don’t make it past second base. Inara is a relatively easy baby, at least as easy as she can be given she’s got Tim’s chaos brain growing in her head and Kon’s powers already stretching into her veins. She sleeps well, even better than most babies. She took to bottle feeding well and is always explicit when she’s hungry. She rarely cries, just babbles a lot.
And by a lot, he means a lot. Dick says it reminds him of prepubescent Tim who sent him certified stalker letters and then showed up on his doorstep with a ten thousand foot word salad spilling out of his mouth, completely uninhibited and unstoppable. It seems like she might take after him in that aspect, at least.
She does take a lot of effort, because she’s a baby. And superhuman. But Tim finds he doesn’t mind any of it. He and Kon are her parents and by god does he adore her.
They feed her, they bathe her, they introduce her to fun new things, and they spend almost all of their time doting on her. Even when they go to bed, they barely have the energy to do much more than make out aggressively for an hour with some heavy petting before they collapse in an attempt to sleep when the baby sleeps as was the advice he got from pretty much everyone.
He and Conner fall into a pretty good pattern. They’re surprisingly good at cohabitating, despite never having done it before.
As a pair, they certainly were acing the parenting. As a couple, they communicated far more than Tim had ever had before. Every single topic was on the table. Their parents, their parenting styles, their secrets and fears and dreams. Conner would ask and Tim would answer. Tim knows that, at least for him, he decided that this is his best friend, they’re co-parents, and it’s literally the one person he’s maybe so gone for that he has turned his entire life on its head in order to be truthful. It’s the healthiest relationship he’s ever been in and they hadn’t even broached the physical side of their romantic tension.
That doesn’t mean Tim doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night from a dream where he finally had Kon where he wanted him only to realize it wasn’t real. At least, it wasn’t real yet. Which mean Tim had to find the time, make the time, to get to where he and Conner both clearly wanted to be as a couple. Of course, being a parent took precedence, so sex was tabled for just a bit longer.
For Tim’s eighteenth birthday, Tim is finally allowing people to babysit Inara for a full night. The Titans already came knocking, both to meet her, and to make sure he was ready for his birthday party.
Actually leaving her at Wayne Manor does make Tim’s skin crawl. He’s too used to her being in his arms. Or Conner’s. Or someone else’s, but within eyesight.
This will be different.
“And you promise to call if she gets too fussy?”
“Yes, Tim.”
“And you’ll make sure you rock her in your arms before bedtime, she really likes the spacial disorientation to lull her to sleep.”
“Of course, honey.”
“And you have all the emergency contacts—”
“I am your emergency contact.”
“—and if anything happens, like she gets colic or is sick—”
“Then it’s off to the doctor Lois and Clark use for Jon, I know. Or Dr. Leslie.”
“And—”
Bruce puts his hand on Tim’s cheek. “Honey, you’re turning eighteen. Go, have fun with your friends. Leave your ol’ man with his granddaughter for a night.”
Tim sighs, letting his face fall into his dad’s palm. “Okay, okay. Just promise you’ll be careful?”
“With Inara? Always.”
And, yes, while he and Conner have agreed not to bother Bruce too much while he’s babysitting, they both do space out their calls. His dad takes it with the grace of a man who has too many kids and a lot of questionable decisions under his belt. And a penchant for stalking people he loves.
The Titans are rowdy, dragging them out to the university scene: all big bars, cheap drinks, and bright lights across the dance floor.
They start upstairs, in the arcade and escape room set up. Tim absolutely thrashes his friends at a majority of the strategy games. Bart, as per the usual, gives them all a run for their money at DDR. They speed run the escape rooms, making it more challenging by giving themselves incentives and hinderances like blindfolds and switching shoes. Laser tag is a bloodbath in the most insane way. It’s all fun for once. No impending end-of-the-universe and a distinct lack of parental responsibilities. Tim’s eighteen, and for once, he can be eighteen.
“Happy birthday!” His friends all shout as they take the party downstairs and light the candles on a cake that declares ‘twink dad expansion era’ which definitely confuses the bartender who hands them out some plates and a knife to cut the cake.
With four drinks down and a couple of long drags of a joint, Tim’s starting to feel it. He lets Kon drag him out to the dance floor, hidden in plain sight against the rest of the rowdy and horny teenagers around them. Conner has his hands everywhere: across Tim’s back, around his hips, behind his neck, and, most notably, one hand clutching his ass like it’ll walk away on its own accord. Not that he’s much better. With the strobe lights on, he takes advantage to run his fingers right under the bottom of Conner’s shirt, tracing the skin that he unearths.
The music’s all early 2000s party girl pop, which Tim secretly loves. It’s great to dance to if dancing is like this.
Which is exactly what he does, arms thrown around Conner’s neck as they move together, surrounded by the crowds. Conner’s mouthing at his neck, teeth and tongue scraping across his jugular. Tim shivers. “You look hotter than the sun in that outfit.”
Conner’s voice is low, teeth tugging on Tim’s neck. His hands on Tim’s ass seem to tighten.
“Cass and Steph picked it out. Said they wanted you to be ‘gagged and taunted’ or something.”
“Considering every person in this godforsaken place has snuck a glance at you, has dragged their eyes right across your body like it’s theirs,” Kon’s hands on his back roam, one slipping under his crop top and the other yanking at the fishnets under his jeans, “they got their wish.”
The song changes and they move across the dance floor. Kon takes the time to spin him around, pushing him away only to pull him back even closer.
They play a little Tom and Jerry for a bit, Tim making Conner chase him around the venue. They spot their friends a few times, all of them seeming to exchange money and giving them knowing looks. For a while, it’s just a nice time to tease. Tim finds it fun, but the more Kon looks at him, like really looks at him with hooded eyes, the more he shivers.
At some point, before Tim drops to his knees right then and there, he wraps his hand around Kon’s neck and drags him down, lips tracing his ear.
“Want to get out of here?” Tim asks, all quiet and husky.
They’re moving through the club before Kon ever responds. They make it to the alleyway, hidden in the dark of cracked lightbulbs as Conner continues to yank at his clothing, barely letting go of his mouth.
Before Tim can suggest that they call an Uber or something, they’re in the air. Flying home would be a no-no under most circumstances, but Tim can’t think straight with a hand on his ass and a tongue down his throat.
Normally, Tim would feel bad about leaving his party without telling his friends. But he can already tell from Bart and Cassie’s double-side-eye texts that they know what’s going on. He quickly sends them a thumbs up before tossing his phone on the nightstand as Conner refuses to let go of his mouth anytime soon. He’s walked back towards their bed, knees pressing into the side as he’s laid right down.
They strip each other clumsily, almost unable to let go of one another for even a second. It takes longer than one would expect, but by the time Tim is standing again, at the edge of the bed, bare in his and Kon’s bedroom, he’s hot and bothered under a collar that isn’t there any longer. And though he’s seen his best friend in various states of undress before, this takes Ma Kent’s apple pie and his favorite strawberry cake from the Korean bakery his mom used to frequent. Tall, hot, confident. Watching his predator of a boyfriend strut forward and toss him onto the bed should get a rise out of him.
And it does! But a different kind of rise, that’s for sure.
The thing is, Tim knew their first time would be something else. But even as Kon works Tim open with his TTK, standing at the side of the bed with Tim’s first ever Batman-and-Robin hunting camera pointed at him, Tim can’t imagine anyone else matching his freak this well.
Now, just because they haven’t had the time, space, or energy to bang, doesn’t mean they haven’t talked about it. In explicit detail.
Kon joins him shortly, almost immediately as Tim groans out a soft “Kon.”
While Kon’s TTK is holding down his hips, probing him open inch by inch, his hands have been left free to drag Conner’s lips down to his.
“Rao, do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Conner asks, his own fingers slicked up and pressing into him slowly. “Do you know how often I’ve thought about this? How you used to be in all those stupid teenage boy fantasies I had even before I ever knew I wanted you like that? Rao above, even now, the past few months, I’ve woken up wanting to press you down into the bed and unmake you. To mark you up so no one else would ever think they could have you. And now, I get to do just that.”
“Then why are you making me wait, Superboy? Come take what you want.”
When Conner slides inside him for the first time, all the air is punched out of his lungs. Their fingers entwine, Kon tossing Tim’s knees over his shoulders, pressing down deeper until Tim can’t even breathe with how full he feels. Conner’s eyes are on his face, cataloguing every single minute reaction. Every inch of Conner’s cock presses against into him, hot and wet.
“Conner.”
Their lips meet softly, at first, as Tim adjusts to the weight inside him. He feels stretched out, incredibly full and dizzy with the pleasure. Conner licks into his mouth, and all Tim can do is to take it.
Eventually Conner does start moving. His hands shift from where they were holding Tim’s hands to grip Tim’s thighs. His hips slide forward and Tim squeaks as the press of his cock only gets deeper.
“You’re like a dream,” Conner marvels, eyes hooded and hazy with the lust. “I’ve imagined every position I could have you in and none of it compares to the real thing.”
Tim tries to respond, but the next set of thrusts hit a pleasure point so deep that he nearly peals off the bed. Whimpering, Tim digs his fingers into Kon’s curls, clutching at the nape of his neck as the thrusts increase in speed. The stretch is still there, with a slight burn, but by gods above does Tim feel good.
“Teenage fantasies don’t even compare to how good you feel.”
Each time Conner slams into his hips, Tim feels a heat building in his gut. He knows he can’t even control the volume of his keens as they flow out into the limited air space between their lips. Conner keeps talking, and Tim keeps listening.
It’s enthralling, how composed Kon seems, even though the lid he has on his control is absolutely waning.
Tim doesn’t register that he’s about to come until it’s happening. The burst of warmth has him flushing, red from his cheeks down to his waist. His moan is loud, and if they had neighbors they would definitely know what was going on tonight.
Heat fills him and Conner nearly wails into his neck. The bite that snags his throat makes him buck, though he doesn’t have the leverage to toss Kon off him or dislodge his teeth. It’s this mix of pain-pleasure that sends makes him tighten and sends Kon right over the edge.
Even though they both just came, Conner seems roaring to go again. Panting, Tim finds his eyes, blue on blue, and reaches out to snag the back of Kon’s neck. His Superboy sighs into the kiss, but nearly starts when Tim reaches between them to grasp at him. Using his legs, he drags Kon back down, moving his ass closer until he feels the stretch again. They both whine.
“Again?”
Tim nods.
“I want you to wreck me. I’ve wanted you to give me everything you’ve got since before we even left for the party. I want you to snap me in half and brand me like you mean it. I want you to prove that I’m yours, that I’ve been yours for years. C’mon Superboy, I know you want me. So prove it.”
Kon snaps into action after that.
He fucks like he used to fight, way back when he was untrained and fresh from the tube. It’s fast-paced and hard. Relentless and uncompromising. A little sloppy, but with a demanding purpose. It’s everything Tim could want from a second round with the man he’s been in love with for years.
The second time Tim comes, he goes cross-eyed, nails digging into Conner’s back as his boyfriend floats them right off the bed in his fervor. The spacial disorientation does wonders to his blood flow as he feels the orgasm across every corner of his body, straight down from behind his eyes to his toes.
As they try and catch their breath, settling back down onto the bed, Tim flips them. He settles on Conner’s lap and drags him in for another kiss.
Tim rides Conner for the next round, pressing him down, as his legs push and pull him off of Kon’s cock. He takes control the way he did as Robin. Commanding voice paired with instruction. Conner complies without hesitation, which does something to Tim’s stomach the same way it did when Conner manhandled him the previous round. His boyfriend’s eyes are blown wide, barely any iris to be seen.
Tim has to admit that he feels powerful directing one of the strongest people he knows through the next round. When he tells Conner to stop thrusting, he does. When he tells him to pick up the pace, everything speeds up exponentially. It’s addicting, changing the game, introducing new rules, and letting it frustrate both of them more and more. They’re incredibly worked up by the time Tim decides to pull his final card out of the hat.
Tim places Kon’s hands on his hips. “If you keep these here for 95% of this ride, I’ll let you fuck me in the Batmobile.”
Apparently, that’s incentive enough because Kon refuses to move his hands, only letting his grip tighten and loosen as Tim rides him to the peak.
When they come together, Conner’s hands finally do move from Tim’s waist to the bed frame behind them. Tim nearly flies right off of Kon’s lap when he hears the crack.
“Oh fuck.”
“You broke our bed.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You’re so fucking hot right now and you taking control like that…you have no idea what you do to me.”
Tim snickers, wrapping his arms around Conner’s neck dragging him in for a kiss. They can deal with the broken bed frame later.
Part-way through their makeout session, Tim finds himself flipped over face-down, TTK keeping his hips high and his neck low. Even when Tim pushes back a little, just to test his partner, all he gets is a slap to the ass, pushing a gasp out from his lips.
Tim finds himself waiting for Kon to make his move, but nothing. Nada.
“You gonna sit there all day just looking at your hard work, or are you going to do something?” Tim presses up against the TTK only to be shoved right back down, another slap across his other cheek.
“Boy wonder, I’d watch you any day.”
Tim can’t even feel the fourth time Kon wrangles another orgasm out of him. He’s so legitimately high off of the pure dopamine that the noise he makes is so high-pitched he can’t even recognize that the uh uh uh being punched out of his mouth is his own. He also can’t register the tears on his face until Kon’s hand is around his neck.
“Baby,” Conner croons, lips pulling back in a smirk over Tim’s shoulder, “you feel so good huh? Rao above, you’ve never felt so good. Your skin, your lips. You’re still so tight even after I’ve had you so many times. I could snap you in half and you’d still have all of that power over me, Tim. Fuck. You’re even prettier when you cry like this, all overstimulated and perfect for me. Did you know I’ve never loved anyone like you? It’s like you were made for me, and I was made for you. Nothing’s ever been like this before.”
Tim, who had been face down, ass up for about thirty minutes at that point, mewls, one hand on Kon’s wrist and the other reaching under himself to tease Kon where they’re locked together. Can’t let Kon have all the fun riling him up. When his nails gently scrape along Kon’s shaft, he feels the shift in the air.
Conner snarls with his teeth barred, hips pistoning into Tim over and over. Between the slap of skin on skin and Conner’s hand on his throat, Tim can feel it the moment Kon comes again. “제발, Kon, 제발.”
Even as they come down, Kon doesn’t pull out. Instead, he lays them down softly, hips still flush to Tim’s. He does eventually slip out, and Tim can feel warmth trickle down his leg. Conner crawls down the bed, pulling Tim’s legs back over his shoulders as he dives in.
Tongue and teeth scrape and overstimulate him, so Tim snags a handful of curls. Conner proceeds to spend the next five minutes cleaning him out, dragging out whine after gasp after cry.
It’s gentle when Conner climbs back up, coiling around him and slipping right back in. This time, it’s significantly slower. It’s not them having sex to finish, it’s this sensual feeling of intimacy. Of being as close as possible to the person who knows you best. Conner mumbles sweet little nothings in his ear, lavishing him with praise and confessions of love. If Tim wasn’t already so in love with his best friend, this would ruin him for other people.
He’s already ruined for other people, but that’s just a fact at this point in time.
When Tim comes for the fifth time, Kon actually slows down, his hips stuttering to a final thrust, jerking gently against Tim’s ass. The grip Conner has on his waist is sure to bruise, but he can hardly find it in himself to care because of how floaty and wonderful he feels. Conner’s kissing him again, this time all slow and languid.
“God, I don’t think my muscles even knew how to do half of that before today,” Tim sighs, pressing his face into Conner’s chest as he’s rolled over and placed face-to-face with his boyfriend. “I have no clue how I’m gonna sit anytime soon, I think you wrecked me for anyone else.”
“You can’t just say that,” Kon whines, clutching Tim even closer as he tosses a sheet over them just in case any nosy friends and/or siblings decide to break into their apartment. It wouldn’t save them the trauma of the broken bed frame, the ripped clothes, and the definitive evidence of their outright debauchery. But at least they wouldn’t have to see Tim’s bare ass or Kon’s dick aimed skyward. “I can’t want another round when you look like your seconds away from passing out.”
Laughing softly, Tim makes grabby hands for the water on the side of bed. Conner makes sure to get it for him, cracking open the lid and letting Tim gulp down half the bottle.
“Mmm. I wouldn’t be opposed to trying that sometime soon. Maybe when we aren’t so tired and we have a full weekend to ourselves.”
Conner is silent for a heartbeat or two. Tim can feel eyes on his face, and the bruises and bite marks scattered across his body. While his boyfriend has a few of his own marks, between the nails scratching right down his back and his kiss-bruised lips, Tim most certainly is chalk full of incredibly possessive marks.
“You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Tim can feel the grin slide right onto his face, soft and gentle and knowing. He lets Conner chug the rest of the bottle before dragging his boyfriend back down so they can cuddle close.
“No one’s ever had me,” Tim purrs out, emulating his best impression of Selina. “Not like you.”
And what else can Conner do but kiss him after that?
Of course, the next morning when Tim looks at himself in the full-length mirror in their closet, he finds an array of evidence from their previous activities. His neck is almost purple between the tiny bout of choking and the incredibly deep teeth marks embedded by his pulse points. His hips are the same, blue and purple swirls embedded in two distinctive handprints.
“Did we just Edward and Bella this shit?”
Conner’s jaw drops in horror. The bed. The bruises. No feathers in their hair, but Tim also hates non memory foam pillows so that was never an option.
“Oh no. Holy fuck. Nightwing’s gonna kill me.”
It’s almost six months after Inara is born when Tim tells his version of events, from the second Bruce disappeared to when they found him in the warehouse, to Dick and Bruce.
Even though he’s gotten closer to Jason and Damian, righted his relationship with Babs and Steph, and only ever strengthen his bond with Cass and Duke (who came roaring into the family with a kind of badassery and unhinged-ness that Tim simply had to applaud), he cannot for the life of himself consider telling them what happened in full without telling his dad and eldest brother first. It’s not that he doesn’t trust anyone, but rather that he knows the rest of his family. Jason doesn’t take kindly to a lot of what has happened to Tim with Jor. To find out anything else…it would maybe set off his second most volatile brother (because they all know Dick Grayson is the OG crashout). With Damian, Tim knows his experience with the LOA is sure to bring up a cascade of feelings, many of which Tim has yet to decipher and still needs time to process.
Telling Dick and their dad seems like the best next step.
He does have a slight mental breakdown the night before, staring at his ceiling while he lies on the hardwood and runs over the story again in his head.
Figured out the truth. Broke some furniture. Shit, wrong order. Broke furniture because of Dick and Damian…maybe skip that. Broke things and noticed an anomaly. Took up a new mantle and went to Europe. Bad things happened. Even worse things came to fruition. No spleen. Creepy moments. Boom boom, magic fun-time explosion. Found proof. Kicked out of a window. Bada bing, bada boom!
Bruce won’t buy a second of what he’s selling if he doesn’t even believe himself.
Beside him is the journal he’s taken to keeping since his daughter was born. Part of it is for her, the things he notices about raising her. Each new little habit or trait she exhibits. But it’s also about him. He does talk about things with Kon, but this is a good way to get it all out at once, to toss his feelings at the proverbial wall and see what sticks.
He’s written a lot of retrospective entries about his time in the League.
Some of them are kind of funny, like how many times he’s broken Pru’s nose or when Z first tried a Zesti and nearly choked on it. A lot of them are much darker.
Unhappy. Alone. Maybe losing it a little.
And while Tim has told Conner about Paris. About nearly being tucked right into the Lazarus Pit. About his spleen…Tim doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to tell his dad. Or his brother. His first brother. The person he’s adored and looked up to since he ever had real thoughts in his head.
It’ll kill him if they think he’s lying. It’ll destroy him if they think he’s at fault for all of it.
To be fair, he is, at least somewhat, the architect of his own misery. He dove right into the doom and let the gloom sink in after him. And once he joined the League? There was no good outcome for him, no matter how many times his brain tries to justify it. Sure, he got his dad back. His friends are alive and only a little green. But he has to admit it to himself the way he admitted it to Conner: he was ready to die when Ra’s kicked him out of that window.
He’d made Bruce proud. He’d saved everyone. If the price had been his life, Tim had thought it was worth it.
The handwriting’s on the wall and if he’s going to have a better, healthier long-term relationship with his family, he needs to grind the bullet in his teeth to dust.
“You ready?” Conner questions the next morning as Tim stares solemnly into his cereal. “I know you practiced, but…”
“What if they hate me for it?”
When Tim looks up, Conner is quite clearly upset. “They could never hate you. Bruce is your dad. Dick is your brother. Bruce wanted you before you even wanted him. Dick had you pegged as family before you legally ever were. Are you all a little fucked up? Yeah. Do ya’ll need therapy? Probably. But is there a world in which the two of them ever actually hate you? Like, really hate you? No.”
It eases something in Tim’s chest. Because truthfully, Conner is right.
“Thank you,” his voice is nearly silent, but Conner can hear. He looks over at Inara, sleeping in her little bassinet, fully tuckered out after a milk coma. “I just think…everyone thought I was crazy. I thought I was crazy at several points in this tour d’hell. I feel like I just need to check sometimes. Just to make sure.”
“Babe,” Kon starts, “you are a little crazy. You’re a Bat. You stalked Batman and Robin. But you’re not stupid. You had a hunch and you followed it. Throwing yourself into danger isn’t great, but you weren’t losing your mind just because you thought the universe had fucked up and something else was possible. Jason came back to life. Bart and I returned from fuck knows where. When you live life like we do, it’s inevitable that something insane happens. But you’re not insane. You’re just wading through fucked-up situations trying to survive.”
And that’s the truth, isn’t it? Tim was just trying to survive, to find his dad, to save everyone else.
“I love you, you know that, right?”
“I love you too, luvah.”
“Oh fuck right off,” Tim laughs, picking Inara up out of her bassinet, eyes crinkling as she stretches in her sleep. “Who are you? Pru?”
Holding his daughter helps settle him. She’s a warm, soft weight on his chest as he gets ready to head to the manor. Pressing his forehead to her own, he basks in her heat and her fluffy head of hair. If, just for a moment, he feels his mind settle.
Kissing his boyfriend and his baby goodbye, he hops in his car and speeds off to the suburbs.
Dick had promised to keep people out of the house, bribing Duke to take Cass and Damian to mini golf for the first time. Jason had agreed to “tag along” only because Steph was heading to his house to drag him out by his hair if she had to.
Which left him, Alfred, and Bruce in the house.
Except Alfred is apparently out to tea with Dr. Leslie and Lucius (probably to talk shit about Bruce), so when he pulls up to the house, it’s Dick that answers the door.
His brother doesn’t even wait for his hi, hello, how are you before he’s being yanked into octopus arms. He sinks right into he warmth, curling right up into his brother’s embrace. He’s definitely home.
The two of them make normal small talk as they make their way up to Bruce’s study. Dick’s asking all the nice, boring questions about how Inara’s sleeping, how she’s growing, etc. Tim knows his older brother, knows Dick is doing this just to keep the tension out of his shoulders, but damn it if it isn’t working. He lets Dick cling even more tightly to them as they approach the heavy oak door.
Tim can feel the anxiety deep in his bones, but it’s also time.
He needs to tell them. He also wants to tell them. Because they can surmise from what Jor has mentioned. They can extrapolate based off of Pru’s rants, Owens’ innuendos, and Z’s pointed stares.
But it’s an entirely new ballpark, telling them from his own mouth.
He doesn’t even realize they’ve entered when his dad scoops him right up into his arms. His broad shoulders are easy to cling onto, even if Tim isn’t eleven, isn’t fifteen, isn’t a kid anymore. This is still his dad. This is the Batman he followed down dark alleyways into into sewers. He feels entirely too safe in the embrace of a man who loves him in spite of the things he knows Tim might’ve done.
Getting settled into the conversation is easier than he expects.
He starts with the things they know: the original cloning attempts. How he felt after Conner died the first time, and how everything started piling up onto him emotionally between losing his mom and his dad and up until Bruce’s disappearance.
“When I hit attempt 98, Cassie found me. She was upset that I lied, that I had told everyone I had moved on, but I was doing this all behind their backs anyways.” His voice shakes, but he purposefully put himself on the other side of the couch from Dick and across from Bruce’s armchair because if someone tries to hold him, he’ll crack. “I had just kept failing. And I thought, at the time, that I was just failing my best friend.”
He takes a deep breath.
“And Cassie knew that even if I had succeeded, it wouldn’t be him. That I would just be recreating the process only to wind up with someone entirely different. She was right, of course. Deep down, I knew she was right, but at the time, I couldn’t see past the loss. I thought if I could get something to be close enough, I wouldn’t lose him. I would’t lose all of him.”
Visions replay over his own words. Cassie’s vibrant and larger-than-life anger. Their yelling, how her words hurt his heart and her voice hurt his ears.
“At some point, I had to stop. I hit 99 attempts with no successes and needed to move away from it. So I asked Lonnie to look after the facility. Just check in, make sure no one was getting into it so I could safely decommission it when I wasn’t feeling so volatile. And it worked, for a while.”
The change in his Robin suit, from green and yellow and red to the black. To the Superboy red and the black of his leather jacket.
“Then the year just went from bad to worse. I had lost Conner, Bart, my dad. Darla was gone. Steph was dead and then she wasn’t. My mom had been gone for a while at that point. No more Dana and her baby. I was trying to hold it together, just any piece of myself that I could. And then you disappeared,” Tim murmurs, eyes on his dad. “I couldn’t take one more loss. I think it just set me off. Dick and I fought—”
He eyes his brother, who has tears in his eyes and clenched fists in his lap.
“—and we said things that were stupid and shitty and mean. Damian wound up in my suit—”
“I gave it to him,” Dick interrupts, turning to Bruce. He has this wash of shame over his face, lips downturned. “I did exactly what you did to me and I regret it. I took Robin away like it was a punishment. And I didn’t offer anything else in return.”
Dick turns to him, heart on his sleeve, across his face, etched into his irises.
“I’m sorry, Tim, I’m so sorry.”
And Tim has been holding it down. But he loves his brother above all else (except Inara). He’s loved Dick since he’s known what it’s like to love someone. His first hero was never even Robin. It was Dick Grayson.
He tosses himself into Dick’s arms, pressing his wet eyes into his brother’s shoulder so he can whisper, “I forgave you so long ago. It hurt, it was bad, and we both went about things the wrong way. But you’re my brother.”
Dick cries into his hair.
It takes a while for either of them to let go. Tim can feel the weight of their dad’s stare, who has been gripping his arm rests in an attempt not to sidetrack them into another crying session. But eventually they do let go, wipe the tears away, and continue.
Tim knows this might be bad, but he glosses over the things he and Damian fought about. He’s hashed that shit out already with his little brother, they do not need to go over that right now.
Getting into his crash out with Clark and his argument with Cassie is worse. Dick might’ve mentioned therapy, whatever, but Clark made it seem like Tim was unstable. Uncontainable. Too difficult and too lost to work with. And he was probably right. But Tim was also seventeen. Legally, he wasn’t an adult, his adoptive dad was gone, and he was functionally bound to no one. Dick had legal custody over Damian, but Tim was floating in a loophole in space.
It made anything Clark said about getting help feel less like Dick’s brotherly concern and more like a threat.
“So, when I found the clues you’d placed throughout time, starting with the portrait, I just left. I told Lonnie to look after the warehouse and got on the first plane out to Europe.”
Tim feels kind of sheepish, getting into his Selina-inspired art heists and museum robberies. It’s lighthearted enough that it makes Dick and B laugh, which is nice. A better change of pace than what Tim knows is coming.
“—and after doing that for a while, I knew someone was after me.”
Bruce freezes in a way that makes danger ripple through his shoulders.
“Part of it was the assassins on my tail. But it wasn’t until Pru sent a rocket launcher through my hotel room that I realized the extent of it. I dodged her, Owens, and Z for a bit. Just trying to get to as many clues as I could. But then…then Ra’s came to me with an offer.”
The two sets of eyes looking him over narrow.
“He wanted help with a problem. A spider problem. The Council of Spiders had been stalking and killing his own, so he thought getting me on the case might help him keep his people alive. And he knew what I was looking for. He’d surmised that I believed you were alive. But I needed proof. So he offered to help. Give me the resources, provide me a team, and all I had to do was solve his spider issue and get you back and we’d be square.”
Even though they both knew how he and Pru had met (and his fist had met her nose several times over) his team had been hush hush on any specific details. So Tim just let them spill from his lips. How the help was too good to be true. How Ra’s stipulations hadn’t even seemed that bad when Tim knew they should be. How he wound up training with and even leading the League through several missions as he collected clue after clue. How alone and exhausted and desperate he felt to be right.
And then—Paris.
“It had been…not normal, I won’t say normal because it wasn’t. But I had been tolerable, I guess. I knew I was being groomed to be his next heir. Damian had turned his back on killing more or less. Bruce was still missing. Talia is a woman, even though I think she’s more than capable considering how many people trust her in the League, but whatever. I didn’t want the job, I just wanted to go home. I think that’s when Ra’s knew I needed an incentive to stay.”
Tim swallows. Falling quiet for a moment as he looks down at his hands.
“It was never clear to me. Whether this is what he intended for her to do or it’s just the initiative she took…”
He takes a deep breath, presses his palms into his eyes and tries to breathe. The feeling of drowning comes back to him. He can feel the chains on his wrists. The cool metal. The ice of the stone floors in the catacombs. The truth is that he never really left the caves. Each time he gets a whiff of the cool decay and abundance of bone, he feels his body tighten.
It’s agonizing, pulling his hands away from his eyes as the story spills from his lips. His eyes remain fixed on the wall opposite of him, aimed on a random bust of some old Wayne ancestor. It kind of feels like he’s confessing his worst nightmares to it, which he is, but it’s to his dad and his brother.
He can tell that Dick’s hands are shaking, are resisting the urge to reach out to him.
Which Tim appreciates. He didn’t let Kon touch him for a day or two after confessing everything. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his partner, his best friend. Farthest from that, honestly. But he just felt her nails on his skin and threw up the rest of that night. Cass showed up later, kissing Inara’s cheek and curling right up on the couch opposite Tim so she could be there for him.
He ended up falling asleep in her lap after crying it all out.
It might be no different, he thinks as he describes what the Daughter of Acheron said to him. What she almost did to him.
The tightening at the back of his throat threatens to stop him, but he’s on a roll. Each second he felt scared and terrified that he’d be left down there, alone and dying in that stupid fucking place, comes bubbling up and out.
“—But then, Cass came in. Like I wanted her to, like I had wished she would. She saved me. She told me she’d always save me.”
He sucks in the shakiest, deepest breath he can.
Dick’s hand extends, but Tim shakes his head. He wants to be wrapped up by his older brother’s protective arms so fucking bad, but if he lets himself do that right now, the conversation stops.
Instead, het lets his eyes fall shut for a moment and continues.
“After that—I just wanted to get out. I just needed to be done. We found the last clue was in Iraq. This cave painting of a bat sigil. So I took my team and we went. Z said I stared at it for a long while, just taking it in. I couldn’t believe it was real, that I was right.”
The heat on his back in that desert. The cool, dry air of the cave. The way his heart pounded in his ribcage like it was aching to get out, to touch the stone just to prove that he’d been right all this time.
“And that’s of course when things went wrong. We hadn’t subdued all of the Spiders. Widower caught up to us. He took down Z and Owens before we really knew what was happening. I saw their lives fade in an instant and it was just about survival. He caught Pru at her throat, tore her larynx right through. And then he got to me.”
Dick’s fingers twitch, most certainly wanting to reach out, but not wanting to be rebuffed like before.
“I don’t remember much after he told me the Council thanked me for participating in their games. I was so angry right then. I had gotten my hopes up that things would be the way they were. That everything I’d compromised on for all these months, I could just stop, undo it all. That, maybe, I’d know who I was again. I must’ve passed out, though. At some point, I woke up. I thought I could do more, be more, but my friends were dead. Pru was dying. And I just bled. I managed to get us all into the Jeep, to drive back to the hotel and Tam met us there. After that? Nothing. Tam says the League came for us. They put Z and Owens in the Pit. Pru got her larynx out, and they couldn’t save my spleen.”
“You mean,” Bruce blinks at him. “You no longer have a spleen?”
“Mmm.”
Dick’s jaw unhinges. “So you’ve been doing all this stuff without an entire organ?”
“Yeah.”
The silence is almost ghoulish, how chilly it gets in the room. So he just continues right on. He talks about returning to Gotham. Sending the info to the JL. Making sure they were prepared for Ra’s power grab against Wayne Enterprises. Getting everyone a little buddy to ensure Ra’s couldn’t strike out against them. Finding out his best friends were alive at the same time and breaking his own heart by staying away as much as he could so he didn’t endanger anyone unnecessarily.
His confrontation with Ra’s was intense, but nothing beats the strain currently lingering across Bruce’s study.
He’s proud of how he stopped Ra’s, that’s true. He’s able to hold his head high as he describes the steps he, Lucius, and Tam took to ensure the company was locked down legally. He’s pleased when Dick backs up how no one was able to get caught off guard by Ra’s and his minions because Tim had planned ahead.
Of course, his own outsmarting of Ra’s and the way he worked to outlast the man until it was all set in stone is a point of pride.
But he does admit to not having a plan B, or even a plan A to get out of the situation alive. He knew Ra’s would retaliate, but did he really believe that he could survive without backup? Without a plan?
Clearly, that’s been on Dick’s mind the longer this topic stays at the forefront of his mind.
He gets to the point in his story where he’s out of the window, free-falling in the air. After a pause, it’s become more and more obvious that Dick is waiting for his confession that he always had someone coming for him. That he knew Dick would catch him and that’s why he let himself be kicked out. But when nothing comes out of his mouth, nothing to support Dick’s belief that Tim hadn’t planned on dying that day, his brother’s eyebrows furrow.
“And then I caught you.”
“You did.”
“Like you thought I would.”
Tim doesn’t speak. Bruce leans back in his seat, gaze piercing into the side of Tim’s face.
“You said you’d knew I’d catch you, Tim.”
“I know.”
“Then—”
Bruce interrupts, hands gripping the arms of his chair. “You didn’t have a backup plan.”
The air chills instantly.
“I didn’t.”
“You fell without a plan. Without someone to save you.”
“I did.”
“But you said—” Dick’s voice is so devastated that Tim wants to take it back.
“I lie to Batman,” Tim whispers, “and you may be my brother, but you were also Batman.”
Tim’s heart actually breaks into a kabillion tiny pieces seeing the pain on his brother’s face. It only gets worse when he spots his dad’s tears, his sad little pout that is so Damian that it hurts.
He can’t let it stop him, though. If he doesn’t get through it all now, he’ll pretend and lie and hide until the end of time.
He spins on an axle away from the previous topic of conversation. Diving right back into it, he brings them to the state of his mind when he first left Gotham all those months ago.
“Lonnie called me early, no long after you’d come back. I need a break, so I took one, on Tam’s insistence. And Z’s. Of course, Lon still decided learning about Jor’s secret experiments was a pretty bad emergency, so I left. I knew Babs would get suspicious if I just left without a word, so I redirected the cameras. Wiped any trace of leaving. I got to Boston, went to Lonnie, realized what happened, and Jor came floating down like he was my savior. There was no way out, especially not after the last time.”
The arm Kon had once broken under mind control aches as he hears the sky open up and rain begins to pitter patter against the window.
“I think when Jor let Lon go, I knew I wasn’t going to leave,” Tim begins, eyes on the ceiling. “Not even that Jor wouldn’t let me. I already knew I didn’t have the strength or the energy to even try. But I was so unprepared for the idea of telling anyone the truth. That I had gone so far away from the Tim Drake-Wayne anyone loved that the boy I was had died. That the Tim who remained was the worst version of myself and that no one could ever love me again. Not after everything I’ve done. And you know what, I thought I deserved it. I got dad back. I stopped the League of Assassins. I kept Pru alive, I made sure Z and Owens got a second chance. But I wasn’t Robin anymore. I wasn’t anything.”
The tears on his face are hot.
“I wasn’t anyone, either. I was going to be a dad and screw it up just like Jack Drake had done. I was going to leave her alone like Janet had to me. And I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t even save myself. I wanted to go home, but I had thrown it all away. I survived, I kept going, but I was never going to recover from the gaping wound in my chest.”
Bruce moves before he can open his mouth again. His dad kneels right down in front of him, palms up so Tim can watch his movements as he’s pulled right into his dad’s lap. His blurry vision is pressed into the sleek softness of expensive cashmere and a hand cups the back of his head.
“Nothing could make me stop loving you, Tim. Nothing. There is nothing you have said, nothing you could say to make me stop wanting you to be my son. You’ve been my son, my kid, my Robin since before you ever put a single foot into this Manor. Since you were three and looking up at your brother with a smile on your face. Since you were a couple months old and Janet let me hold you for the first time. You have always been and always will be mine. I know that words are cheap, that you’ve been left stranded too many times over, so please, just please give me one more chance to prove it to you?”
And Tim breaks. He sobs. He lets his brother blanket his back and his dad rocks the three of them back and forth. He cries for the version of himself that stepped into the Robin costume with no training that first time. He chokes on tears for the Tim Drake who trained with Lady Shiva. Who formed Young Justice. Who loved and lost over and over and always found himself as the last man standing.
Who stood, almost a year ago, in a warehouse in New England staring at a cloning chamber, bathed in the green glow, and realized he was about to be a dad.
He cries until he has no tears left to give.
“I never gave up on you,” Tim chokes out. “Not once. Even when people thought I was crazy. Even when I thought I was crazy. If you think I won’t give either of you another chance, you’re the ones who need to be checked for a concussion.”
Dick laughs wetly into the back of his neck.
“I know you both better than I know myself. I don’t think I’ll ever let you guys go, never give up on you. I haven’t before.”
“We’re going to be better,” His brother vows, squeezing him tighter. “I’m going to be better.”
“Together,” Their dad says, voice still thick. “As a family.”
“As a family.”
Keeping the recent events under wraps from the world had seemed like a good idea at the time. And in all honesty, it had been good for Tim and Conner to spend the first couple of months of Inara’s life learning how to be parents and partners and balance their insane need for planning with the spontaneity that comes with having a newborn. Aside from her literal birth, Tim had been keen on introducing people to her to one at a time. While he couldn’t be sure this wasn’t leftover paranoia from his League days or his general belief that everyone deserved some special time with her, he couldn’t find himself with enough time to figure it out.
At first, it had been easy. The list had included Tim’s dad and five siblings (which of course, extended to include Barbara, Alfred, Kate, and Helena when they returned home), YJ (and the rest of their extended group who were all a little terrified of the baby and excited to be aunts and uncles), Ma and Pa Kent, Tim’s assassin trio, and Tim’s Wayne Enterprises team (because Tam and her siblings refused to be kept out of the loop, and Lucius was acting CEO while Tim was on ‘medical leave’).
And then, of course, it seemed everyone else in the world was finding out about her. Conner hadn’t been sure how he felt about telling Clark and Lex due to both the circumstances of her birth and who made her, but Tim had reminded him that he and Clark had a solid relationship now, and even Lex was behaving. If there was a time to introduce them, it would be before Tim showed up to the Watchtower with a baby on his hip and Superboy at his shoulder. (And, no Kon, it’s not just because Damian has been bugging Tim about showing off his baby niece to Jon and Colin. Though the more Damian dotes on Inara, the more mushy Tim gets about them.)
So, Conner decides to go visit Metropolis for the weekend and tell Clark, Lois, and Jon over dinner and Lex the next morning, over breakfast.
“Okay, but Dad Wonder,” Kon starts, staring down their closet like it’s a loaded gun. “What does a person even wear to tell their pseudo-brother, bio-dad, that the man’s own bio-dad made a not-clone out of his clone’s DNA and the DNA of one of the children of the man’s best friend? And that she’s six months old. And I haven’t been visiting for this exact reason. And I also told Ma and Pa before them because they’re my parents and they raised me, and I’m sorry I died for a bit so I got them another grandkid.”
“I don’t know,” Tim muses from the bed, Inara curling up under his chin for a quick nap. “Probably clothes.”
A sock gets thrown in his general direction. “You’re so lucky my perfect little baby is in your arms; otherwise, you’d be getting yanked right off the bed.”
Tim rolls his eyes, already noting the very gentle caress of Kon’s TTK along his ankle and right up his leg to his chest, where their daughter started her tiny little baby snores. “Our perfect daughter. She’s got one half of me rattling around in her brain. But okay, you’re right, less joking, more helping. Let’s see. Give me some options.”
So Conner does, but they all make him look like a suburban dad of nine who golfs on the weekends and drinks stale beers with his buddy over small-town football games where he punches a wall if his team loses. Which Kon doesn’t really do. He does love his sports, but he’s as competitive as Tim is, and neither of them suits that kind of vibe. It ages them both terribly, which is why Tam and Tiff dragged he and Luke out to get a whole new “young, hip, and skateboarding teenage CEO” wardrobe for his time at WE. It did wonders for making him realize that yes, he has a waist, he enjoys dark colors, and he can be his age and professional at the same time.
Kon just needs something similar.
“Babe,” Tim starts, head tilting to the side as he takes in Conner’s current fit. “Don’t get me wrong. You know I love you. You know I find you incredibly appetizing, but right now? Right now I’m looking at my dad’s old golf buddies who drink a six pack of Coors Light and reminisce about their frat bro days and not my very fine looking, slightly grunge and punk rock boyfriend.”
“I was afraid of that,” Conner groans, letting his head fall against the closet doorframe.
“Okay, c’mere,” Tim calls, slowly rising so he’s sitting upright, baby still asleep against his chest. Conner does, walking forward and sliding onto the bed next to him. Tim gently pries his very strong, very warm daughter from his chest and passes her over. Even though she’s more indestructible than Tim ever will be and more durable than any newborn in the world, Conner still holds her like she’s made of glass. Tim’s seen how much Kon loves her in these moments, when he hyper focuses on her with this look of absolute love and adoration that makes Tim so flustered that it makes him want another (he needs to block Jor during that time period lest he ask the man to help him again). “I can pull together something. Just give me a second.”
Tim struts right into the closet, putting back the shirts Kon had taken out at the very back so he can bury them later. He takes out a simple black shirt with the Gotham Knights’ logo emblazoned across the front, Kon’s non-Superboy leather vest (even though it’s technically the end of summer, the breeze in Metropolis has been colder than usual and he can probably get away with it), a pair of denim jeans that don’t have holes, and a stupidly expensive pair of burgundy sneakers that Tim had gifted him so he could match with Inara. Slipping out of the closet, Tim moves to present them to Kon.
But what he sees makes his heart melt. Inara has shifted in her sleep and is clutching one of Conner’s fingers in her semi-superhuman grip and Conner is making little cooing noises at her.
Kon looks up at him from his eyelashes, and the grin on his face is almost too much for Tim to take. Thankfully, Kon nods at the outfit approvingly, “Okay, so maybe you have a better sense for what I actually like and what’s good for a regular dinner.”
“You say that like I don’t wear everyone else’s clothes 94% of the time and my monkey suit or literal kevlar the rest.”
“Okay, part-time skater boy, part-time nepo baby, but I’m not sure that’s accurate.”
“Ugh, why do I even like you?”
“’Cause I’m fine as hell?”
“Must be something I drank in the water.”
The two of them spend the rest of the night in peace, but Tim knows his best friend. The impending conversation is bothering him. They’ve gone over some scenarios together, between Clark getting angry again and Lex becoming a megalomaniac about it, but Tim thinks both of them will melt the second they see her. Lex seems like a big, tough guy, but he folds more often than a supervillain would ever like to admit when it comes to Kon. Clark has also softened so much, especially with Jon’s general Golden Retriever existence, and as who adores Kon like there’s no tomorrow.
Tim eyes the gallery wall across from their couch as Inara plays on the baby mat on the floor. Conner had literally moved right into Tim’s apartment, but they’ve been slowly and surely making sure it’s their home together. The gallery wall had been part of that.
Photos of Tim and Conner from years on end. Them with YJ, the Titans, and co. Photos of just Kon. Ones of Tim (sneakily taken by various family members because Tim seems to avoid the other side of the camera). Ones of them and Inara. Tim’s family. Kon’s family. And maybe too many of baby Inara, but Tim doesn’t really believe that. After all, she’s a natural in front of the camera! The most photogenic and adorable little baby. Even the 0.5 photos Bart has taken of her from her forehead only serve to make her look even cuter if that were possible.
It’s been kind of surreal, how easily the two of them fell right into one another.
Tim knew they were compatible, if only a little combative and competitive with one another, but this is kind of crazy. They’re both aware they could still fuck this up. That loving each other doesn’t mean this will last.
But each quiet night in or loud weekend spent with their friends out on the town that passes, Tim can’t help but feel like this could last forever if he plays his cards right. They did talk about getting married, but considering how young they are right now, considering how young Inara is? It makes sense to let themselves enjoy the normal things that come with dating. They do have a standing date night once a week now that she’s older. Before it was just one night at dinner where they’d do cute couple things that make Cass coo and Steph snicker behind her hand. Now? They will go out to a nice restaurant and to the movies or go eat cheap takeout in the car and head out to a concert together.
Tim knows he’s lucky.
They’ve argued, obviously, about things like what kind of schooling she should have (they both hate the idea of boarding school, but public versus private and Gotham is pretty much anyone’s guess). The access the media will have to her (and will want from them regardless). What kind of sports she should play. How expensive her clothes are. If she But it’s not about the things that are red flags or deal breakers. Like if she runs away and joins the Green Lantern Corps will they disown her? No. But Grandpa Bruce might have a heart attack and die. Or if she gets mind-controlled, would they kill everyone and themselves to save her? Yeah, of course.
They simply love her too much to consider any alternatives other than the ones in which she lives a long, full life, full of love and wonder and a decent chunk of chaos.
With all the photos spread out in front of them, all Tim can see is the future ahead of them. Maybe it’s naive with all they’ve been through and everything they’ve seen. But when Santa is literally evil, you were once trapped in disco hell, and saved baseball to save a planet? Anything else seems just a little mundane.
As Conner’s back hits his legs, he feels like mundane isn’t bad when it’s like this.
Of course, the next morning, when Inara accidentally laser-visioned Kon’s toast because he felt too nervous to eat, well, that’s a whole other issue. It doesn’t stop Conner from leaving, though Tim does have to kick him out of the house and give him the longest kiss of his life as encouragement. In all fairness, Tim’s following behind. He and Kon have discussed letting them meet her because the likelihood that they want to ASAP after learning about her is far too high for Tim to consider otherwise. So Conner was to head in for an early-ish dinner reservation with Clark, Lois, and Lex, and Tim would follow behind and loiter at the Metropolis museum for a little bit.
Conner’s texts are certainly promising at the very least.
(clone) loverboy: no one’s killed each other yet
dad wonder: that’s good right?
(clone) loverboy: I think so
(clone) loverboy: but they’re both aware of Jor
(clone) loverboy: idk if he paid them a visit or w/e
(clone) loverboy: they both don’t know what that means and they don’t wanna stress me out
(clone) loverboy: apparently I’ve got “too much” to worry about with “getting back to life” kinda thing
dad wonder: if only they knew
(clone) loverboy: fr tho
(clone) loverboy: but wish me luck, Jor is def coming back as a topic once Lois gets back and I think I’ll just drop the atomic bomb that is my Inara news then
dad wonder: you jest but she literally dropped one like 30 mins ago
(clone) loverboy: it’s cause she misses me
dad wonder: m’kay babe
dad wonder: just keep me posted when they inevitably want to meet her and then argue over who loves her more or somethin
(clone) loverboy: they’re more civilized than that
dad wonder: …
(clone) loverboy: ya I know I regret the words now that I’ve shared them
dad wonder: love you loser
(clone) loverboy: love you too
Thankfully, Tim’s wait isn’t longer than he anticipated. Within about twenty minutes, Kon is texting that they should meet up at the apartment Lex bought for him in half an hour. And if possible, could Tim pick Jon up on the way? So Tim does.
Jon takes to Tim having a baby in the backseat like a champ. His lack of surprise means that Damian has already told him, but it’s not like Tim didn’t know. The two of them make idle chat in the front seat, Jon talking about how Kon helped him redesign his new suit so it actually fits him and is still cooler than Clark’s. He’s thrilled that Conner took the name Supernova and thinks it’s “the raddest thing” which makes Tim want to squish his cheeks like the little old ladies at galas used to do to him.
He’s obviously curious about Inara, so Tim decides to tell him a little about her. It’s nice and sweet and they somehow beat the rest of the family to Conner’s apartment. Jon makes himself right at home, grabbing a drink for himself and Tim. And really, both Conner and Damian must be talking about his Zesti obsession because not only does his boyfriend have a ton stocked in the fridge, but Jon doesn’t even as Tim which flavor he’d want, he just brings a glass of grape Zesti with ice in it. If Tim wasn’t already in love with Conner and adored his batshit crazy and adorable little brother, he’d fully believe Jon was psychic. It bodes well, though, that Damian feels comfortable enough with his friends that he’s either casually or purposefully distributing information about his siblings to them.
Based on Colin’s initial reaction to Inara two weeks ago and Jon’s current wide-eyed gaze fixed on her like she’ll disappear, it seems like it might be the latter.
The front door opens slowly, though Tim already knew they were here based off of Jon’s head tilt. Conner, as is the case when he usually spots Tim, doesn’t even stop to invite anyone else in, though they follow along after Lois. Conner sweeps right in, wraps his arms around Tim and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“What am I? A bale of hay?” Jon complains with a smile.
Conner lets go of him to wrap the kid in a tight hug. Tim turns back to the other three people lingering in the hallway. He smiles at Lois easily, who nods back at him assuringly. Behind him he can already tell that Conner has knelt down by Inara to sigh over her tiny little sleeping face.
“Tim,” Clark greets gently. The two of them still haven’t had a full conversation since everything with Bruce went down. Part of Tim knows that Bruce has since had it out with him over everything Tim disclosed. So had Dick, though, he heard Clark gave it back to him over the Robin mantle since he apparently wasn’t aware of the fact that Tim was a less than willing participant in that process.
“Timothy,” Lex butts in before he can respond. Lex, on the other hand, who Tim has had the misfortune to work with recently. “Thank you for introducing us to your daughter.”
Of course the (formerly?) evil CEO decides to display the decorum that Janet Drake would’ve fucking loved.
“Clark. Lex. Hi Lois.”
“Tim,” Lois greets, sweeping right past the men who are stiff as a board so she can press a kiss to his cheek. “So lovely to see you again. It’s been far too long.”
“It has.”
Clark tenses further as if that were possible. Tim’s done torturing him a little, so he turns back around to the baby seat Inara’s been snoozing in for a while. As soon as he leans down, her eyes flicker open, and she reaches for him, already babbling. Such a spoiled little baby, he thinks, though it’s only fair when she spends almost all of her time sleeping in someone’s arms and can be found there more often than not. As soon as she’s settled into his arms, he turns around to show her off.
“This is Inara,” Tim declares, hefting her higher so her face is next to his own. “Inara Mi-Cha Drake-Wayne Kent.”
“And Kaya Kon-El!” Conner jumps in, side-eyeing Clark. “She’s got a lot of names, but some are obviously just for us.”
“Hi, precious girl,” Lois whispers warmly, smiling down at her while she fixes them all with her signature Janet Drake stare (that Tim inherited and many he’s faced down in boardrooms think is just the sign of the devil in his veins). It’s incredibly endearing to watch two incredibly powerful men struggle to make eye contact with an infant, and even funnier to see how little it bothers Lois and Jon.
“Kaya Kon-El?” Clark asks gently, actively avoiding eye contact with Inara. “What made you decide to include a Kryptonian name?”
“Kara insisted,” Conner starts, wiggling his fingers in Inara’s line of sight so she’ll stop freaking Clark and Lex out. “Well, she did after the fact. But Tim and I had already decided to give her one. And the name.
“Kara’s met her?” Lex questions, lip curling in displeasure.
But Tim doesn’t care. Kara’s been incredibly supportive of Kon, incredibly doting on Inara, and though she finds Dick and Jason annoying pests most of the time, she adores Babs and Steph. And between all of her time with YJ, she’s come to like Tim and Damian a decent chunk more. “Yeah. She figured out what happened not long after she came back from space and showed up to try and save me from Jor. Of course, Inara was already out of the chamber at that point, so she just got to meet her. She’s been wonderful.”
“Mmm.”
“She looks just like you,” Clark adds, head tilting to the left as he studies her. “With Kon’s curls.”
“She got the best of the best from me,” Conner agrees, “but she’s a very Tim-centric baby.”
“Your mother would’ve liked the name Mi-Cha,” Lex says softly, eyeing Tim like he’s just set off a bear trap. Which—he’s not wrong to be worried about. Mentioning Janet Drake most of the time is like asking the Grim Reaper to appear and steal your soul.
“Thank you.” And Tim means it. Not many people would’ve ever known Janet well enough to make a statement like that. Bruce, Ollie, and Lex are just a few. Harvey too, but that’s a topic Tim doesn’t think about often.
“May I hold her?” Clark asks. He might as well be begging with how puppy-dog, sad-eyes-MgGee he’s projecting.
Before Tim can open his mouth, Lex sideswipes right into the conversation. “I would like to hold her first.”
“I asked first.”
“I created Conner. It is only fair I should hold the baby he created first.”
“Do you really want to rehash that right now?”
“I don’t care to. But I will be holding my granddaughter first.”
“Our granddaughter, ‘cause she’s mine too, Lex.”
“Well, if you say so—”
Lex and Clark argue for fifteen minutes after that about who would get to hold her first.
Tim has had enough by the ten minute mark and hands Inara to Lois, who pulls Jon up next to her so he could see. They both smile down at his baby, Jon’s eyes wide and round as he whispers a little hello to his niece.
Lois coos at Inara, “You’re the most beautiful little girl in the world. You’re so perfect and sweet. So much like your daddy, aren’t you? You inherited Tim’s wonderful eyes, haven’t you? And Kon’s curls, oh dear! I’m sure you’re going to grow up to be the most devastating and badass woman around.”
Jon’s finger traces her face, a smile sliding right onto his lips as she chases him with her hand. She giggles and when she grips Jon’s hand, her semi-Kryptonian grip doesn’t hurt him.
“Hi Inara, I’m Jon. It’s nice to meet you.”
She sneezes in response.
Tim’s content to watch them for a while, shoulders relaxing as she settles into Lois’ grip. Kon’s hand on his hip is heavy and comforting, gripping him ever so gently. It’s nearly lulling him to sleep by the time either Lex or Clark realize they’ve been got.“Lois!” Clark gasps. It’s almost comical the way his hand flies to his mouth in shock. “Why did you get to hold her first?”
She rolls her eyes, pressing a kiss to the side of Inara’s head. “Snooze you lose. And you both decided arguing was more important, so Jon and I have priority. Sucks to be you guys.”
Jon giggles over her shoulder as Tim leans into Kon with a sigh. Jon reaches down slowly and gently, running his fingers over her hair, which is still a little baby soft and has only gotten curlier and curlier as she’s grown. He and Lois are both so taken with her that Tim finds himself having enough time to snap a photo of Lex and Clark pouting.
Immediately, it gets sent to the Batfam chat. Tim doesn’t even wait for the replies; he just silences his phone and feels Kon press a kiss to the top of his head, content to just watch other people uncover their lover for his perfect little baby.
Considering how introducing Inara to Clark and Lex had gone, Tim and Conner had decided to wait to bring her to Titans Tower or the Watchtower. Not because he didn’t trust them (except maybe Guy Gardner and Booster Gold, no matter how much Ted loved him, Tim still has a weird feeling about the man, though maybe it’s just the blinding white smile), but because he feels it in his gut that everyone would be bent to high hell if they didn’t get to hold her first.
Of course, when there’s an all-hands-on-deck-ASAP kind of meeting, of course, Shrike and Supernova have to show up. Which means that since their daughter is still an infant, she will be coming with.
So, in his redesigned costume, he has Kon strap their baby to his chest.
“She looks so pretty in her little kevlar onesie,” Kon coos, finishing off by tying a little Batgirl bow in her hair. And he’s right, she does look cute as fuck. Bruce had fitted her with a variety of different fits in the case of a world-ending scenario. And for fun, because he kept bugging Tim to do photoshoots of her in mini versions of the JL.
“Mmm,” Tim agrees, checking for their ETA. In the other pilot’s seat, Damian keeps throwing glances at Kon, who was zipping around, making sure they had a full bag pulled together for Inara. Duke and Cass were in the back, both currently curled together and napping, which is what Tim also wanted to be doing.
An “emergency” meeting that required “everyone, yes, even the kids, actually especially the kids” so that meant they all had to gear up.
Since they were the only four (and one quarter) at the Batcave, they took the Batplane instead. While it might make them later than the others, it was easier than trying to take Inara through a Zeta tube for the first time. They had no clue how she’d react and Tim had just gotten her to settle down and Damian refused to test the mechanics on his niece until she was older.
It was actually very cute how violently protective Damian is over her. He’s always been the youngest, even with the addition of Duke, so having a whole new baby in the family dramatically shifted the attention. Tim had been concerned at first, that maybe it might make him react poorly, but his little brother became her fiercest defender. If she spat up on someone? They must’ve deserved some kind of penance. She cried when someone held her? Immediately out of their arms, back into Tim’s and Damian’s sword is to their neck. It truly melts Tim’s heart most of the time.
The timing also sucked. Inara had been due for a nap, Duke and Cass had just pulled in from a long-ass stakeout and needed food and sleep (they got a protein bar and Gatorade instead), and Damian was supposed to be working on homework with Kon.
Instead, they were zooming over the planet towards the Watchtower. Docking is, as expected, packed. Tim lets Damian take over, though he keeps an eye out just in case. B, Dick, Jason, and co all said they’d meet them there. Babs flat-out refused to come, to which Helena backed her up and said that if anything were to happen, someone would need to be in the city to assess. So the two of them got a pass from Batman to stay behind, which—rude.
As soon as they pull in, they can already tell there’s a ton of commotion, so they all head over to the main conference area, listening as the arguing and muttered conversation strewn about gets louder.
With his less-asleep-than-before siblings in front of him, Kon at his left shoulder and Damian on his right, Tim realizes that, oh shit, they don’t see Inara. His confusion at the meeting request aside, and whatever the hell Guy is spewing from his mouth, the second the photo of Jor hits the screen, Tim is hit by the thought that maybe they should’ve told people about the baby.
In any other normal, less strange scenario in which Jor does not usurp Tim’s prior cloning attempts and then kidnaps him for a few months, Tim would just think Guy is stupid.
And he still might be! Don’t get Tim wrong, he…is good with Hal. He thinks John is well-rounded. Kyle is fantastic. Jess is great. But Guy? Guy doesn’t like Batman. He’s probably (definitely) right that his dad is overbearing and demanding and yada yada yada. But Batman’s been at the center of the JL for decades at this point. One would think Guy would grow the fuck up and get over it.
In this case, Guy is standing at the front of the room, hands moving wildly as he looks at Clark and demands answers about why one of the most dangerous beings in the world is roaming freely in New England and was spotted “for several months!” all across the area.
Tim feels his jaw fall, eyes immediately finding Kon’s, who looks so fucking amused that he has to shove a fist in front of his mouth to keep from laughing at the dumbfounded look on Clark’s face.
And Bruce’s.
Because while most would never ever see his dad’s current emotiveless cowl and think, he must already know what’s going on! The truth is that Tim sees the pure fucking shock etched into his dad’s shoulders. Perhaps, in part, because he agreed that not telling the JL about Jor and the cloning and Inara for a while would be perfectly fine. Especially since it became an open secret amongst the younger members (ie YJ and all of Tim’s teammates and friends). The idea that, right now, while Inara is currently snoozing in her little baby sling, she is still some Spector of the Night that Jor plotted and planned for is so fucking funny. And of course, Batman can’t be seen laughing like he’s gotten a whiff of Joker gas.
Clark is, of course, highly defensive right off the bat. Tim isn’t even paying attention to what he’s saying back to Guy, something about “privacy” and “it’s handled” and “it’s not for the JL to deal with” but it doesn’t matter.
Tim decides, fuck it, let’s clear the air, and moves to take a step forward. Before he can finish a single step, Kon’s hand is around his waist, Damian’s sword is outstretched in front of Tim and Inara, Cass’ shoulders tense like she’s going to pounce on Guy, and Duke’s eyes start glowing. It’s sweet, really, that they think they need to protect him from someone like Guy, but Tim spent months with Jor. He spent months with Ra’s. He gaslit, gatekept, and girlbossed his way to the top of WE with his nepo baby status. Guy doesn’t scare him.
Of course, Inara then decides to pull the attention away from a heated Guy Gardner, a pleading Hal Jordan, an angry Clark Kent, and a Bruce Wayne who currently has his head in his hands.
“Appa!” She yawns, stretching her little arms away from his chest. He can see her big blue eyes peer at him through her long black curls. Appa is her favorite word. Considering she has two dads, it’s a surefire way to get one of them to her side in an instant or to make them melt. Her hands clap together clumsily, drawing enough noise together that everyone whips around to stare.
“Um,” Ollie starts, “whose baby is that?”
“Mine,” Tim says casually. He has one hand on her belly, still bouncing her gently. The other is on his hip, barely skimming over his bo.
Guy’s head whips between Bruce and Tim. He looks over Inara who, while she is certainly Tim’s baby with her coloring, eye shape, and bright blue eyes, when you’re looking at her closely, it’s easy to tell that there’s more to her than just Tim. Most notably, the curls on her head, which Tim most distinctly lacks. Standing next to Conner should make it clear to anyone with a brain, but no one’s ever accused Guy of being smart.
“No!” Tim’s least favorite Green Lantern shouts. “That’s a Kryptonian baby!”
Tim blinks because he’s not wrong, but it’s also clear what he’s implying.
“Yeah. She’s my baby.”
“Wrong again!” Guy comes storming up to them. Of course, before he gets within five feet of Inara, there’s Jason’s gun aimed at his head, Damian’s sword is outstretched in front of them, where he stepped in front of them, and, of course, Dick’s escrima sticks are already spitting mad and one is under Guy’s chin. “Hey! Batman, control your little assholes.”
His dad stands resolute. “You’re offending them. You threatened them. It only makes sense that they should defend themselves, Gardner.”
The man growls, but Tim just rolls his eyes. “Look, I know you think you understand what’s going on—”
“I think?” Guy growls. “No, I know that Superman’s father cloned himself. After all that gobblety-gook about his need to make a ‘new Krypton’, it makes sense he starts with himself. And you!”
“Me?” Tim grins.
“You consorted with him! You’re raising his bastardized spawn like it were your own so he can take over the planet with an army of super clones.”
And that? Tim has to laugh at that. He goes so far as to throw back his head and let it out. Inara loves the sound and squeals right alongside him, babbles spilling out of her mouth. He should’ve been fully aware that, since he’s in his post-Robin days, most people assume he’s just as serious, if not more, than Batman. He’s not. He’s still Young Justice’s leader through and through.
Everyone around him looks unnerved, except his family and his friends. All of whom are also giggling into their hands.
“What’s so funny?” Guy demands, looking around as much as he can with Dick still glaring at him.
“You. You are a fool,” Damian grinds out. “You are perhaps the most foolish man to ever exist. Can you not see what is right in front of your face? Yes, Jor-El was involved in my niece’s creation. No, he is not her father. He decided that my brother would be a perfect candidate to merge with his own lineage. And if you had even one cent of intelligence, you could clearly see that Kon-El is Inara’s other parent. Which means that not only have you dragged us all out here for no good reason, but you are accusing my brother of consorting with that man of his own volition.”
The silence in the room is both hilarious and stifling. Tim’s so glad his little brother adores his niece.
“Say what?”
Cass moves in front of Tim, knocking away Guy’s outstretched hand. But it’s Duke who speaks from his place behind Tim’s left shoulder.
“You’re so fucking stupid that it hurts, dude. I thought Robin made it pretty fucking clear? Jor-El? Asshole. Cloned our brother but split the DNA between Shrike and Supernova so she’s not a clone, she’s just their baby. And actually, fuck you! He kidnapped Shrike for months, and did you notice? Did you do anything about it? No! So shut your stupid, asshole mouth, and let us go back to Gotham so we can sleep.”
Tim’s never loved Duke more.
“God, this is why we had to kidnap you into the family,” Tim says casually, tossing a look over his shoulder.
“More like I pulled a you and made like a blood oath with a Gotham street and wound up stuck with your family forever.”
“So true.”
Everyone’s jaws are still on the floor, boring and annoying. So someone decides to change it up.
“Okay,” Ollie steps in, pushing Guy away from Dick. “Enough of that. Now, can we hold the newest little bat by any chance?”
“I believe I should hold her first,” Diana butts in, hip-checking Ollie out of the way.
That starts a mad dash and people start arguing about who can hold her first. Instead of engaging, Tim settles into a seat at the table, waits for someone to sit next to him quietly and then he hands Inara over.
Unsurprisingly, it’s Ted Kord who takes the first seat, gently scooping her up into his arms as he makes funny faces at her. By the time they get through all of the Titans (who have already met her), Dinah, Red Tornado, and now Kara, who has circled back to let Inara yank on her hair, someone finally notices.
“Hey! Cheaters!” Barry gasps, looking shocked at what should be the least shocking thing. “We wanted to hold her too!”
“Sucks for you,” Kara snorts loudly. “My niece-ish or whatever. Plus you snooze on this, you lose. Should’ve been quicker if you wanted some cuddles from the cutest girl in the world. Aren’t you the prettiest little girl? You look so much like your appa, you’re gonna break hearts when you’re older, aren’t you? Yes you are!”
Everyone else settles down and, with Bruce’s directive, makes a single file line so they can all meet Inara. It’s maybe one of the strangest scenes Tim has ever witnessed, but he’s still a little sleep deprived, his siblings are exhausted and on full alert because other people are holding their niece, so this is fine.
Reasonable even.
It takes a while, but eventually they make it through the alphabet. No more people to line up, no more handing over his baby, who started getting fussy the second Guy relented and tried to hold her for a minute.
“Okay, enough of that,” Tim whispers smoothly, pulling Inara right back into his arms. With Conner’s help, she’s deposited back into her sling, curled up against his chest and already dozing. Which is their clue to go home and try and catch a nap as well.
They board the Batplane with the rest of their menagerie of bats and birds. Bruce sends a sad little puppy-dog look to Tim, wanting to hold Inara on the way back, but Tim just wants her in his arms, if just for a bit longer.
It’s only once they’ve settled in, half already knocked out, and the other half scheming ways get back at a Green Lantern, that anyone says anything.
“Fucking Guy,” Jason mutters under his breath. “Not a dull day since the cutest member of the family showed up, that’s for sure.”
He’s not wrong, Tim considers, settling down into his seat (and Kon’s arms) and letting his yawn knock him out for some quick shut eye. Not a dull day, and not a dull introduction, that’s for real.
Tim Drake-Wayne heads to the family graveyard alone. Well—alone plus his baby. He’d been on his way to Wayne Manor to meet up with Alfred so they could get Inara fitted into her costume for her first-ever Halloween (she’s supposed to be Piglet so he can be Pooh and Kon can be Tigger) when Tim was hit with a paralyzing wave of nostalgia.
The yearning he had in childhood for his parents’ approval, their love, their attention, still lingers deep within his bones.
So he had turned off of their road, down the street and toward the cemeteries of Gotham’s lonely and wealthy. It was strange, knowing that he might never be buried here.
Sitting on the cold, October ground is uncomfortable, especially since Inara is still a little fussy with the weather.
“Hi mom, hi dad. I wanted to introduce you to your granddaughter. Inara Mi-Cha Kaya Drake-Wayne Kent. I know what you’re thinking, why the hell is the name so long? But I thought I could respect culture for once. I know you must be wondering why the hell your eighteen-year-old son has a six-month-old. I would tell you, but the story is far too long and far too complicated.”
He adjusts Inara in his arms, eyeing the headstones.
“My best friend, well, now he’s my boyfriend, is her other father. Again, a long story. I wanted…well, I just wanted to you to know. It’s been a while since I came, since I even thought about talking to you. Which might sound harsh, but life has changed so much since I lost you.”
Tim’s eyes fall shut on their own accord.
“I never knew what it would be like, to be a parent. To love someone this much. Dad, I’m sorry, but this is more for mom. You know I miss you and I love you, but you got a chance to know me for me. Mom never did.”
He’d always be a Drake. He’d always be Janet Drake’s only son, her only child. “I wish you could meet Inara, mom. I know it won’t happen in this lifetime. I think—I thought I had made peace with it. With you never knowing her, never really knowing me. But the more I raise her, the more questions I have for you. I just wish…well, I can wish all I want, but this seems to just be where we are now. Maybe one day I’ll know how you felt when you first had me. And maybe I’ll understand why you left all the time.”
Tim pauses as Inara stretches, her hands gripping the lapel of his coat.
“But I’m not leaving. I’m never going to run away from her. She’s my daughter. She breaks my heart every second she gets older and she gives me so much joy and love that sometimes I feel like my ribcage is cracking with the force.”
He moves to stand, not bothering to brush off his pants.
“I love you both. I miss you. But I’m going to be her parent my way. I’m not going to be a Drake. Probably not even a Wayne. I’m not going to repeat the mistakes you guys made when raising me. I’m going to do this my way and Kon’s way. We’ll make our own mistakes, and it’ll be okay.”
Tim looks down at his daughter, at the surprise center of his universe. The one thing that pivoted his whole life in the most insane way possible. The person who put him back together with the simple reality of her existence. He’s never wanted anything so much and he’s never been so scared in his life. He’s a kid with a kid, and yet…he wouldn’t risk ever losing her.
And unlike his previous attempts at cloning his best friend of running off to find his missing dad, he’s not doing this alone.
As he heads out of the graveyard, he feels lighter. He’s had a lot he’s wanted to say to them. But there was never a chance. Between the letter he wrote to his father way back when to the crack in his chest when he learned about his mom, they just didn’t have enough time.
He can change that now. Tim makes a promise to Inara and to himself that he’ll do better, and be better because someone should’ve done that for him. Behind him, the empty husk that was Drake Manor sits empty. Before him, he can already hear the warmth and sound of his family echoing through the slightly ajar windows.
He’s back between his house and his heart, and everything around him stills as he takes it all in. Time to move forward, not move on.