Big Brothers for Dummies

by Graphic_Nobody

Summary:

Dick Grayson didn’t mean to avoid Tim Drake.

Dick was fairly confident the boy would make a decent Robin. But beyond that Dick didn’t have any strong opinions, and he was happy to leave it that way. He refused to form an opinion, to become attached. It was easier that way. Dick didn’t want to take the time to examine the dread he felt seeing Tim in his colors, standing in the same spot another black haired, blue eyed boy used to be. He wasn’t looking for a new brother. That’s what he told himself when eight months had passed and he had only met the boy a handful of times. 

Dick stopped telling himself that when he learned that Tim had died due to the Joker. 

Or: In Tim's early Robin days, Dick realizes he needs to step up and mentor the boy who now holds his mantle. Tim is going to be part of the family, no matter what Bruce has to say.

Notes:

I'm back and ready to tackle Dick and Tim's relationship this time! Thank you, as always, to Kaitlin for beta reading.

Chapter 1: Ice Cream is a Robin Tradition

Dick Grayson didn’t mean to avoid Tim Drake.

 

He seemed like a good kid. He had saved Dick and Bruce’s asses from Two Face (and wasn’t that embarassing?) before taking up the Robin mantle. And he was smart enough to figure out Dick’s identity at only nine years old. Dick was fairly confident the boy would make a decent Robin. But beyond that Dick didn’t have any strong opinions, and he was happy to leave it that way. He refused to form an opinion, to become attached. It was easier that way. Dick didn’t want to take the time to examine the dread he felt seeing Tim in his colors, standing in the same spot another black haired, blue eyed boy used to be. He wasn’t looking for a new brother. At least, that’s what he told himself when he rejected Alfred’s gentle needling to come over and help train the boy. That’s what he told himself when he didn’t protest Bruce sending Tim to Europe for training, despite Dick secretly thinking it was a bad idea. That’s what he told himself when Tim returned from training and stepped into the role of Batman’s partner and Dick still didn’t come home, using the excuse of having his own mission as he settled into life in Bludhaven and focused on his team. That’s what he told himself when eight months had passed and he had only met the boy a handful of times. 

 

Dick stopped telling himself that when he learned that Tim had died due to the Joker. 

 

All he could think was that he had failed, again. As a brother, as a mentor, he had failed. All of the feelings he had denied, had hidden away, came crashing down around him. He was making the exact same mistakes he made with Jason, denying Tim as a part of the family. Tracking Joker down to kill him was a blur. Dick hardly remembered anything beyond the wave of ice cold dread that hit him before he incapacitated Black Canary. What he did remember was the crunch of Joker’s ribs under his fist, the splatter of blood, the haunting cackle that didn’t stop until the man’s heart did. Then the miracle happened. Dick learned that Joker had lied, that Tim was still alive. He had hugged the confused kid hard enough to crack a rib and silently promised himself that things would change. He would be the brother he never quite managed to be for Jason. That was his mission. 

 

---

 

Dick’s mission was turning out to be a major flop. 

 

At first he tried to track the boy down by coming over to the manor. The problem was Tim was never in the manor.  When he asked Bruce the man had done his usual caveman impression and grunted something about Tim living with his own parents.

 

Dick didn’t remember how exactly that conversation devolved into a fight, but it did. As per usual. He had walked away from that conversation with a throat hoarse from screaming and a stronger conviction than ever that Bruce shouldn’t be a mentor to children.

 

Dick’s attempts to connect over patrol went just as poorly.

 

Batman, Robin, and Nightwing set out for a joint patrol as soon as Tim was cleared from his injuries from Killer Croc. They had just gotten all of the big players back into Arkham so it was likely going to be a quiet night. Nightwing’s presence wasn’t needed, but Bruce didn’t protest. 

 

The most obvious obstacle was Batman. Every time Nightwing tried to start a conversation with Tim, the paranoid bastard would snap at them to keep the comms clear of chatter. Dick told Bruce to lighten up several times, but Tim seemed determined to follow Batman’s orders. 

 

The night ended early when Nightwing and Robin managed to stop a bank robbery in progress. They were regrouping in an alleyway when Batman swept down. 

 

“You did well tonight.” He grunted. Dick tried not to gape in shock at the rare praise from the man. 

 

“You could do a lot more good if you came back to Gotham.” And there it was, the inevitable catch. Bruce’s latest attempt to put Dick back under his thumb. Dick felt his muscles tensing as he prepared for the fight ahead. 

 

“I’m needed in Bludhaven. My mission is there.”  Dick stated firmly. 

 

Robin was glancing between the two of them, standing stiffly off to the side, lips pressed tightly together. 

 

“You can’t save Bludhaven, Dick. It’s too big of a job for one person.” Batman’s jaw was set in a hard line. 

 

Dick scoffed. “That’s rich coming from you, Mister ‘I work alone.’” 

 

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” Batman’s arms were crossed over his chest. 

 

“God, you’re always underestimating me, Bruce! Can you at least pretend to have some faith?” Dick’s anger burned hot in his chest. He wasn’t Jason. He was an independent hero in his own right. 

 

“No names in the field.” Bruce’s tone was cold, lacking inflection. 

 

“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Was Dick yelling? The lump in his throat made it feel like he was. He absently noted Robin retreating towards the batmobile. 

 

“What I’m worried about is you, wasting your talents on that city!” Bruce’s temper finally reared up to match Dick’s own. Good. Let him feel how Dick felt all the time. 

 

“No, you just want me back here where you can control me! Just like you always did! The second I stopped being a good soldier, you threw me out like trash. Are you going to do the same to Tim, when he stops being useful? Would you have done the same to Jason?” He was definitely yelling now.

 

Dick could tell immediately that he had crossed the line. He didn’t care. Both he and Bruce missed the wounded look on the face of the young boy watching the fight. 

 

“Go home, Nightwing.” Batman ground out. “You’re compromised.” 

 

Dick shook his head, pulling out his grapple gun. “And you’re an asshole, Batman.” He practically spit out the name. “I don’t know why I came.” Dick grappled away. He would make his own way home. 

 

By the time Dick got back to his apartment in Bludhaven his temper had cooled enough to recognize he shouldn’t have lost control in front of Tim. He pulled out his phone to send the boy an apology, before sighing in defeat when he realized he didn’t have his number. He would just have to try again next week. 

 

For the next month, he showed up at least once per week to join Batman and Robin in patrolling Gotham with the intention of spending time with Tim. Each attempt ended in a blowout fight with Batman, Robin watching silent and wide eyed as the two heroes went at it before Nightwing finally stormed off to Bludhaven to lick his wounds. Dick was starting to run out of ideas.

 

Luckily (or unluckily, in Bruce’s case) a recent fight with Bane had left Batman with a hurt ankle and strict instructions to rest for the week, meaning Dick would be able to patrol with Tim without his father’s interference. 

 

---

 

Nightwing and Robin swung through the city in relative silence. It had been an uneventful night, which Dick hoped would give him the time he needed to talk to Tim. So far he had made several attempts at starting conversation with the younger boy with little success. 

 

“How’s school been going?” Dick tried to start up a conversation for the third time. Kids loved to complain about school, right?

 

“It’s going well. I’m managing the workload.” Tim responded evenly. 

 

“That’s good.” Dick said lamely. Tim’s attention had already been caught by a drug deal happening below.

 

Tim was clearly quick witted, and could be very talkative as Robin. Dick witnessed it firsthand as they took out the pair of dealers. However, as soon as the criminals were apprehended, Tim retreated back into himself, only giving short responses to questions and commands. 

 

After a full hour of quiet, Dick called for a pause and landed on the roof of an old office building. Tim landed beside him, stumbling slightly and blushing when Dick grabbed his shoulder to steady him. 

 

“Well Robin, we made it through the night with no injuries. You know what that means?” Dick grinned at the younger boy.

 

“Uh,” Tim looked at him in confusion. “I get to skip Alfred’s medical exam when we get back to the cave?”

 

“What? No. It means we get to go to Stella’s!” Dick threw up his arms in excitement before faltering slightly at Tim’s blank expression. 

 

“I don’t know what that is.” 

 

“Of course you do.” Nightwing couldn’t wrap his head around Tim’s bewilderment. “Stella’s Diner. It’s the best ice cream in Gotham!” It was tradition for Batman to take Robin on nights with no injuries. Dick had been hundreds of times. 

 

Tim just shrugged. “I like Coldstone.” 

 

Dick gaped at him. “Coldstone isn’t open at 1am.”

 

Tim looked increasingly confused. “Uh, no, it isn’t.” 

 

“Right. But Stella’s is open 24/7. So it’s the best place for post patrol ice cream. Hasn’t B taken you?” 

 

“No? Why would Batman take me for ice cream?” Tim looked absolutely bewildered by the idea. 

 

“It’s tradition. Whenever I made it through patrol without an injury we would go. He did it with Jay, too.” Dick was proud of himself for not stumbling over his late brother’s name. 

 

“Oh.” Tim’s confusion seemed to clear up. “I think that’s more of a father son tradition, not a Robin tradition.” 

 

Dick felt his frustration at Bruce flare up, but he violently shoved it down for Tim’s sake. “Well, I was Robin first, and I’m saying it’s a Robin tradition. Let’s go!”

 

Dick led Tim back to his motorcycle in a nearby alley. From there it was a short ride to the 50’s style diner. The duo walked into the otherwise empty place, Dick scanning the space out of habit. The diner looked straight out of the fifties, with pastel blue and silver furniture, walls, and booths, plus a big jukebox in the corner. He grinned when he saw who was behind the counter.

 

“Hey Stella! Late night?”

 

The owner and namesake of the diner sent a tired smile Nightwing’s way. “Night shift called in again. It’s hard to get good help these days. Will it be the usual?”

 

Dick nodded. “And whatever Robin wants. I recommend the cotton candy.” He nudged Tim.

 

“Oh, um.” Tim quickly scanned the menu. “Mint chocolate chip, please.” 

 

“Coming right up.” Stella smiled at Tim and began scooping the ice cream. “It’s been nice seeing you around again, Robin. Gotham wasn’t the same without you.” 

 

Tim blushed at the comment as Dick pulled out his wallet. 

 

“Oh no, honey. You know it’s on the house.” Stella handed each of them a cone. Dick ignored the woman and pulled out a twenty, pushing it into the tip jar. It was Bruce’s money anyways. Stella sighed but didn’t protest as Dick and Tim accepted their cones. 

 

“I’ll be in the back. Just give me a call if you boys need anything else.” The owner gave them another warm smile before heading back through a pair of swinging doors. Dick and Tim settled down into a booth near the exit. 

 

“How is it?” Dick asked, taking a big bite of his ice cream as Tim licked his own.

 

“Really good. Thanks for bringing me, Nightwing.” Tim sent him a small smile. Dick did an internal happy dance, considering this a win. 

 

“Of course.” Dick grinned. “We’ll come again next time I’m in town.” The vigilantes finished their ice creams quietly. Unlike during patrol, this silence was comfortable. 

 

Soon enough it was time to head back to the cave. Dick wanted to get Tim back early enough to get at least some sleep before school. As soon as they arrived, Dick headed straight for the showers. He emerged around ten minutes later, toweling off his hair. Tim was sitting at the batcomputer, already changed out of his uniform and typing up a report for the night as water dripped from his hair.

 

“You should head to bed, kid. You can do that tomorrow.” Dick walked over. 

 

Tim shook his head, not looking up from his work. “Batman wants me to finish them immediately after patrol. It’ll be done soon.” 

 

Dick frowned. “You need sleep, Tim. If you’re worried about it I’ll finish the report.” 

 

That got Tim to sit up, turning towards Dick. His eyebrows were drawn together. “You don’t need to do that. It’s my job.”

 

“I don’t mind. I’ve got tomorrow morning off, and you have school.” Dick pushed Tim’s chair out of the way, drawing a startled “hey!” from the boy. He pulled up his own chair and started typing. 

 

“You really don’t have to-”

 

“Ah ah ah. Less talking, more sleeping.” Dick kept his gaze on the computer. 

 

Tim sighed, rubbing at his eyes in a juvenile manner that made Dick smile. “Alright. Thank you, Dick.”

 

“No problem, kiddo. Now go to bed.” 

 

“Right, have a good night.” Tim grabbed his stuff and started heading towards one of the cave’s exterior exits. Dick finally looked up at him.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Tim looked back at Dick, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, home?”

 

“It’s almost three in the morning. Why don’t you head upstairs and crash here?” Dick didn’t want him walking home this late. 

 

“Oh, uh, no thank you. I don’t think Batman would like that.” Tim turned and kept walking. 

 

“Wait!” Dick called. “At least let me give you a ride home.”

 

“No thanks, Dick.” Tim called back, his steps picking up speed. “I’ll be fine.” With those words Tim left the cave. 

 

Dick sighed and rubbed his face. Dick knew Tim was stubborn, this shouldn’t have been a surprise. But what did he mean about Bruce not wanting him to stay? There’s no way Tim was walking home after every patrol. Dick resolved to ask Bruce about it in the morning, regardless of the fight it would likely cause. 

 

---

 

Dick woke up much earlier than he would have liked, but he needed time if he was going to yell at Bruce and still make it to work in Bludhaven. Waking up in his old bedroom at the manor always felt weird. An old, faded Flying Grayson’s poster hung above his head. Mathlete trophies lined a shelf above his old desk. The bedspread was Superman themed. It was the room of a teenage Robin, not a grown Nightwing. 

 

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Dick made his way downstairs to the breakfast nook. Bruce was sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee and reading something on his phone, wrapped ankle propped up on the chair beside him. He blinked up at Dick with tired eyes.

 

“I didn’t realize you stayed the night.” Bruce’s expression was stony. Dick should have known better than to expect a warm welcome. 

 

“Don’t worry. I’m not staying. You won’t have to deal with me for long.” Dick poured himself a cup of coffee, not bothering to sit down. 

 

“That’s not what I meant, Dick.” Bruce’s voice took on an exasperated tone. 

 

Rather than argue meaninglessly, Dick decided to get straight to the point. “I took Tim to Stella’s last night. He said he’d never been.”

 

“Hn.” Bruce had gone back to scrolling on his phone. 

 

“Then when I asked him to stay the night, he said you wouldn’t like it. What’s the deal, Bruce?” 

 

Bruce sighed. “Tim has his own home and family to return to, Dick. There’s no reason for him to stay here if he isn’t injured.” 

 

“Seriously? That’s cold, even for you.” Dick didn’t know what he had expected. “And what’s up with his family, anyway? How are they okay with their kid running around Gotham every night?”

 

“Listen, son.” Bruce set his coffee down. “Tim is here to be Robin, nothing more. His personal life is none of our business.”

 

“He’s fourteen, Bruce! Robin isn’t just some employee you can ignore outside of office hours!”

 

Bruce stood from the table. “This conversation is over. You should get to work.” The man walked out. 

 

Dick let out a wordless yell of frustration, slamming his hand down on the table. Why was Bruce always so pig headed?

 

“And what, exactly, did my table do to you, Master Dick?” Dick turned to see Alfred standing in the doorway, holding two breakfast plates as he raised one imperious eyebrow. 

 

“I’m sorry, Alfred.” Dick forced himself to take a deep breath so he wouldn’t take his anger out on the older man. “It’s just Bruce being his usual jerk self. He talks about Tim like he doesn’t even care about the kid!”

 

“Master Bruce cares more than you realize, young man.” Alfred set the plates on the table. “He just struggles to show it.” 

 

“More like he doesn’t show it at all.” Dick grumbled, crossing his arms. 

 

“He’s still grieving, lad. Give him time.” Alfred’s voice had taken on a softer, sadder quality. 

 

Still grieving? They were all still grieving. Bruce had used grief as an excuse for his bad behavior his entire life. First grief for his parents, then grief for Jason. It didn’t change the fact that Bruce was acting heartless. Not that Alfred would ever understand. Even when he made his disapproval known, the man rarely spoke out against Bruce.

 

Dick set down his coffee. “Sorry you wasted your time making breakfast, Alfred. I’m heading out.” He headed for the door. 

 

“Can we expect you back any time soon?” The butler asked. 

 

Dick’s first instinct was to say absolutely not, before he caught himself thinking of Tim and his promise to show up more for the boy. “We’ll see. See ya.” Dick grabbed his keys and left. 

 

---

 

Dick Grayson was upsetting the balance of things, and Tim didn’t know how to feel. 

 

Tim and Batman had an understanding. They had a routine. Tim was Batman’s Robin, and nothing more. And he was fine with that! It was what Batman needed. 

 

Sure, as a young boy following Batman and Robin on patrol Tim had often pictured himself in his hero’s place, receiving friendly smiles and hair ruffles and yes, even ice cream breaks. And maybe he had thought that’s what being Robin meant when he decided to step into the mantle. But it was immediately clear that wasn’t what Batman needed. Batman needed a partner to keep him in line, not a son. He had practically said so on more than one occasion. Tim was the perfect candidate. He had two loving parents, after all. He could provide Batman with all of the support of a partner without the emotional liability of a child who needed Bruce’s love. Batman wouldn’t have to worry about losing another of his children in the field, because Tim wasn’t his child. In fact, he was hardly a child at all. He didn’t need ice cream breaks and hair ruffles. He certainly didn’t need another parent.

 

Tim had a lot of practice not needing things. 

 

At first, Dick seemed to understand this. He treated Tim like a fellow hero and nothing more. He, like all other adults in Tim’s life, seemed to recognize that Tim wasn’t like other children and didn’t need to be coddled.

(Tim resolutely ignored his earliest memory of being hugged by the young acrobat at the circus. He ignored his memories of daydreaming that Robin would come and take him away from his cold, empty house. Those were the dreams of a child, and Tim wasn’t a child. )

 

Dick understood that, until the incident with Joker and Killer Croc. 

 

The hug was something Tim could brush off (even if it made his muscles go all warm and gooey.) Dick had believed that Joker killed another Robin. It made sense that he would be a bit overemotional when he learned Tim was still alive. Tim understood that sometimes, Batman and Nightwing looked at him and saw Jason. He didn’t begrudge them for it. 

 

Dick’s behavior afterward was harder to explain away. 

 

It started with patrol. Tim had patrolled with Nightwing maybe twice in the year he had been Robin, and they had barely exchanged a word. Now Dick was showing up at least once a week, if not more often. Tim didn’t understand why the man came when he so clearly hated working with Batman. Their fights had left Tim with shaking hands and a pounding heart on more than one occasion. Tim desperately wanted to ask why Dick was spending more time in Gotham, but he didn’t want to give Dick the impression that he was unwanted. So he held his tongue. 

 

Then tonight things got even weirder. Nightwing asked him all sorts of strange questions during patrol, such as how school was going and what his hobbies were. Tim tried to answer as honestly as he could, but he failed to grasp what the information had to do with patrol. Was Dick trying to build a casefile on Tim? He knew the existing file on the batcomputer (which he found while snooping) was fairly sparse. 

 

It wasn’t until the invitation to ice cream that Tim realized Dick was trying to bond with him. 

 

The realization had Tim jumping for joy (internally, of course). Dick Grayson, his hero, wanted to spend time with him. Tim wasn’t sure why exactly, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It took all of Tim’s self control to hold his tongue as adults preferred while they sat and ate their cones. He had a million questions he wanted to ask the older vigilante; questions about the Teen Titans, life in the circus, growing up with Batman as a dad. They were questions Tim had wanted to ask since he was nine years old and realized that his neighbors were Batman and Robin. But Tim managed to stay quiet and respectful. The years of lessons from his mother on how to be seen and not heard were quite useful. 

 

Tim was further caught off guard at the end of the night when Dick suggested he stay over. He had a perfectly nice (empty) home to return to. Staying over would upset the carefully established balance. It would be an imposition on Batman, and Tim said as much. 

 

“I don’t think Batman would like that.”

 

Dick had seemed slightly confused and a bit frustrated by the statement, so Tim made a hasty retreat. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay the night. It was that he wanted it too much. The idea of going to sleep and waking up in a house full of people created a sense of deep longing in his heart. It was the same feeling he used to get when watching Batman and Robin. Tim had worked hard to shove that feeling away over the years, and Dick Grayson had managed to revive it in one night. He couldn’t be the Robin that Batman needed while also inserting himself into the Wayne family. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. 

 

Still, the ice cream break really was nice.

Notes:

Bruce, please. PLEASE. Watch ONE YouTube tutorial on how to communicate like a functioning adult.

Dick: *Shows an interest in Tim's life*
Tim: Ah yes, this must be for a case file. It is the only logical explanation.

Chapter one is complete! I am hoping to post weekly, depending on how long it takes me to write the rest. I have about six chapters done so far. What do you all think?

Chapter 2: Hayden Christianson Deserves Better

Summary:

The boys do some more bonding, and Bruce starts to warm up.

Notes:

Happy Native American Heritage Day, and Happy Thanksgiving! Please enjoy these two goofs bonding. Thank you to my beta reader, Kaitlin, for saving me from dull descriptions and always hyping me up.

In the end, it took Dick a full week to cool down enough to return to Gotham. Naturally, Bruce hadn’t apologized and neither had Dick, but the man had sent him a message asking him to come patrol Gotham again which was as good as Dick was going to get. 

 

Dick tried not to dwell on how sad and angry his relationship with Bruce made him. They had always had a hard time defining their roles with one another. Bruce had been so young when he took Dick in following the murder of his parents, it caused the lines to blur. Sometimes they were father and son, sometimes they were coworkers, sometimes they were brothers. Bruce had been his partner for over ten years now, but the man’s controlling nature was going to tear them apart. 

 

Dick knew he would have to be the one to fix things. Bruce was too emotionally stunted and stubborn to admit he was wrong. At best, he would change his behavior without ever addressing what he had done wrong in the first place. At worst, he would continue to try to exert control over Dick until he finally drove him away completely. 

 

Dick hoped it wouldn’t come to that. At the end of the day, Bruce was his family. 

 

If all went well, that family would be expanding to include Tim. Dick was sitting in his Camry outside of his old school, waiting for Tim to get out. Dick watched the front doors closely. He still hadn’t gotten Tim’s phone number, so this pick up would be a surprise for the younger boy. 

 

Finally the dismissal bell rang and students came pouring out. Dick waited impatiently until he finally saw Tim walk out with a blond bespectacled boy. The two seemed to be friends based on the large smile on Tim’s face. Dick had never seen him so relaxed before. Tim was grinning and laughing as he playfully shoved the taller boy on the shoulder, before the two exchanged a fist bump and went their separate ways; Tim’s friend towards a mini van, Tim towards the bus stop on the corner. 

 

Dick shifted into gear and pulled up beside Tim, honking his horn. The boy jumped into a defensive stance, only relaxing slightly when Dick rolled down his window. 

 

“Dick? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” Tim made his way over to the car, concern clear on his face. 

 

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Dick grinned, unlocking the passenger seat door. 

 

“What? Shopping?” Tim’s concern melted into confusion. 

 

“Oh my God Tim. Please tell me you’ve seen Mean Girls.” Dick would have to rectify the situation immediately if the younger boy hadn’t. 

 

Tim nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. But seriously, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

 

“Get in and I’ll explain on the way.” 

 

Tim climbed into the car, buckling his seatbelt and holding his backpack in his lap. Dick pulled out from the curb and started the journey home.

 

“So, is there a mission or something?” Tim asked, fiddling with the strap of his bag.

 

“Yes there is. The mission is movies and snacks.” Dick winked at the kid. He watched as Tim’s confusion grew, eyebrows knotted together and a small frown on his lips. 

 

Twenty minutes later the two boys were sitting in the movie room watching the intro to A New Hope. Dick was lounging comfortably on the couch besides Tim, who was sitting stiffly on the next cushion. 

 

Alfred walked in carrying a tray of sandwiches and various movie snacks. “Since it is Friday, I will allow you boys to have your dinner here. Do not get used to it.” 

 

“Oh, thank you Alfred.” Tim responded quietly. 

 

Dick grinned. “Thanks, Alfie!” He dove for the bowl of popcorn, spilling some in the process as he shoveled a handful into his mouth. Alfred just let out an exasperated sigh and left. 

 

It took about twenty more minutes (yes, Dick was counting) for Tim to relax fully into his seat. Dick glanced over and saw the boy totally engrossed in the movie, eyes locked on the large screen in front of them. Tim was mechanically bringing popcorn up to his mouth every few minutes. 

 

When they got to the trash compactor scene, Tim finally spoke up. “You know, they had to reshoot this scene so many times that Mark Hamill ended up bursting a blood vessel in his eye from holding his breath.”

 

“Dang, really?” Dick looked over. 

 

“Yeah, you can see it in later scenes.” 

 

After that the fun facts kept coming. Tim was clearly a big fan of the films. 

 

“You know, Mark Hamill was the voice of Firelord Ozai in Avatar the Last Airbender. He was famous for another cartoon, but I can’t remember which.”

 

“They had James Earl Jones come in to do the voice of Vader because George Lucas didn’t like David Prowse’s accent.”

 

“Harrison Ford was doing improv in this scene.” 

 

By the time they were starting The Empire Strikes back, fun facts had turned into a debate. 

 

“Come on Dick, you have to give the prequels another chance!” Tim was turned fully in his seat to face Dick, legs pulled up in a criss cross position. 

 

“But they’re so corny.” Dick whined. 

 

“Sure, the dialogue is bad, but Hayden Christianson more than makes up for it with his acting! The story of Anakin Skywalker is one of the best tragedies in cinema, and you can’t properly appreciate it without watching the prequels. And the addition of Ahsoka makes it even more devastating.” Tim had an almost feverish intensity in his eyes as he discussed his passion. 

 

“Who’s Ahsoka?” Dick asked. 

 

“Oh. My. God. Who’s Ahsoka? Are you kidding me right now? We have to watch the Clone Wars as soon as we are done with the movies.” Tim insisted. Dick grinned at the implication of further hangouts. Mission success. 

 

They were still debating Hayden Christianson’s performance (Dick may have been overselling his dislike for the sake of riling Tim up) when Tim suddenly froze, cutting off mid sentence and staring at the doorway. Dick turned in his head to see Bruce standing at the entrance, looking at the room in confusion. On Bruce, this looked like an angry frown. 

 

Tim had gone completely stiff and silent again, sitting up in his seat and putting his feet back on the floor. He looked ready to bolt at any moment. 

 

Dick was about to tell Bruce to fuck off when the older man finally moved, breaking the tense silence. “I agree with Tim. Hayden Christianson was unfairly persecuted by fans of the original trilogy.” The man grabbed some popcorn and took a seat in the armchair near the couch. 

 

Tim looked at the man in shock, before a small smile creeped onto his lips. He turned to Dick. “Told you so.” 

 

Dick let out a dramatic groan. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ll give them another chance next movie night.” 

 

Tim smiled triumphantly and the three men turned their attention to the screen. 

 

---

 

Tim nearly had a heart attack when Bruce walked into the movie room. He was suddenly acutely aware of the mess of popcorn around him and Dick, as well as his own casual posture. He wasn’t sure how loudly he had been speaking, but he could guess it was pretty loud based on how excited he was about the topic. Tim prepared himself to be scolded for acting unprofessionally, if not outright kicked out. 

 

Instead, Bruce surprised him by grabbing his own bowl of popcorn and sitting down to watch the movie. He didn’t call Tim out for intruding or overstaying his welcome. Tim allowed himself to settle back into his seat, still feeling cautious. 

 

Bruce proved to be as much of a movie buff as Tim. Throughout the course of Empire Strikes back, Bruce and Tim took turns sharing fun facts and trivia about the making of the film. Tim relaxed incrementally with each positive interaction. Near the end Alfred came in with hot chocolate for each of them and sat down to join in on the final movie. 

 

Tim felt his eyelids growing heavier as they watched Return of the Jedi. The rambunctious energy of the room had died down into a comfortable quiet. He wasn’t sure exactly when he dozed off, but he suddenly became aware of the ending credits playing. At some point someone had wrapped a warm blanket around him. He nuzzled further into the pillow beneath him. 

 

“Is he asleep?” Tim distantly heard a deep voice ask. The pillow underneath him rumbled in response. 

 

“I think so. Should I wake him up?”

 

Tim hoped the voice wouldn’t. He was too comfortable to get up. There was silence for a long moment, followed by a gentle “No, let him rest. We can set him up in a guest room.” 

 

Tim let out a whine as the pillow beneath him shifted. A familiar voice gently shushed him in response. Suddenly, his stomach swooped as he was lifted by a pair of strong arms. Tim let out a confused hum, cracking his eyes open. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

 

“Shh, go back to sleep, baby bird. I’ll carry you up to bed.” Dick’s voice was soft. 

 

Tim didn’t fight the instructions, allowing his eyes to close once again. “S’nice. No one’s ever…done that b’fore.” Tim trailed off, sleep once again pulling him under before he could hear a response. 

 

The next time Tim gained awareness, morning light was flooding his bedroom. He let out a groan, reaching up and pulling his pillow over his eyes. He allowed himself to float in the state between sleep and wakefulness for a while, content in the knowledge that it was the weekend and he had nowhere to be. 

 

As he slowly woke up, Tim became aware of the inconsistencies in his room. For one, the sun was shining on the left side of his face rather than the right. Additionally, the blanket wrapped around him had a warm, fuzzy texture unlike his own slightly scratchy duvet. Tim finally peeled his eyes open, taking in the unfamiliar room. 

 

He was laying in a queen size bed in the center of a large bedroom. The walls and floor were all finished in warm wood, matching the dresser positioned across from him. The sun was shining through a pair of gauzy curtains left partially open over a large bay window. It wasn’t hard to recognize the room as being in Wayne Manor. The simple yet dignified furnishings were reflected throughout the large estate. 

 

Tim sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The last thing he remembered was watching Star Wars with Bruce and Dick. He must have fallen asleep. Faint memories of someone carrying him up to bed, of someone calling him ‘baby bird’, trickled in, causing Tim to blush. He had acted like a child, falling asleep early and needing to be tucked into bed. Still, he couldn’t deny the warm feeling in his chest at the fact that they let him stay the night. 

 

This wasn’t the usual guest room that Tim had stayed in the few times he had been injured on patrol and unable to go home. The fact struck Tim as odd. He climbed out of bed, still dressed in his school clothes. At least no one had changed him. That would have been mortifying. Tim hovered in the center of the room, unsure what to do with himself. Should he try to sneak out and head home as quickly as possible, as he usually did? 

 

The question was answered for him by a knock on the door. “Timmy, it’s breakfast time. Are you up?” Dick’s familiar voice drifted through the heavy wood. 

 

“I’m up.” Tim called back, voice still scratchy from sleep. “I’ll be right out.” Tim scanned the room, finding his backpack and phone on top of the dresser. He grabbed both and opened the door. He had to hold in a startled laugh at the sight before him.

 

Dick was lounging in the doorway, dressed in flannel superman pajamas with pink bunny slippers on his feet. His curly hair was an absolute rat’s nest on his head. He grinned widely when he saw Tim. 

 

“How’d you sleep, kiddo?” 

 

“Uh, I slept okay.” Tim rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m sorry for falling asleep here.” 

 

Dick waved off the apology. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I was gonna suggest you stay the night anyways.” Dick led the way down the stairs. 

 

“Oh, well, I appreciate it. I really enjoyed movie night. Will I see you on patrol?” As they reached the main floor Tim stepped in the direction of the main door. 

 

“Where are you going?” Dick turned to him. “I said it’s breakfast time. The kitchen’s this way.” 

 

“Oh.” That stopped Tim in his tracks. “That’s okay, I can grab something at home.” 

 

“Nah.” Dick wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders, dropping it immediately when Tim stiffened. He set a hand on Tim’s back instead, leading him towards the kitchen. “Just eat here. Besides, we still need to watch the prequels.” 

 

Tim’s protests were ignored as Dick pulled him along. He had already overstayed his welcome and really didn’t want to push any further. The pair entered the kitchen where Alfred was preparing breakfast. 

 

“Morning, Alfie! Tim’s staying for breakfast.” Dick took a seat at a stool by the counter. 

 

“And is Master Tim here of his own volition?” Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow at his charge. 

 

“Of course!” Dick called before Tim could respond. “What do you take me for, Alfred?” 

 

Alfred just gave him a skeptical look before turning to Tim. “Well, you are of course welcome here, Master Tim. Please take a seat. Master Bruce should be down shortly.” 

 

Tim sat down on the stool beside Dick. The sound of Alfred cooking was backed up by soft classical music that Tim couldn’t identify the origin of. He allowed himself to appreciate the rare quiet moment before his brain was awake enough to really start worrying. 

 

Tim looked up again as Bruce walked into the kitchen. If he was surprised to see Tim, he didn’t show it. The man glanced at him briefly before walking over to one of the cabinets and pulling out a well worn batman mug. 

 

“Tim, do you want coffee?” The man asked, voice gruffer than usual. 

 

“Oh, um. Yes, please. Black is fine.” 

 

Bruce poured two mugs of black coffee before sliding the batman mug to Tim. His own was black, with faded text reading ‘world’s okayest dad.’ “Dick, I assume you want your normal sugary monstrosity?”

 

“Yes I do.” Dick smiled at Bruce. Bruce grabbed a third mug and added a truly ungodly amount of sugar and lactose free milk before handing it to his son. Tim’s disgust must have shown on his face, because when Bruce looked at him his lip twitched. It was the closest Tim had seen to a smile from the man. 

 

Alfred set a steaming omelet in front of Tim, doing the same for Bruce and Dick. Tim thanked the butler and tucked in. Breakfast at home usually consisted of cereal or, well, more cereal. Having a hot breakfast was a nice change of pace. 

 

“Tim, are you staying over today?” Bruce asked, looking up from his own plate. 

 

“Oh, um, I-”

 

“He is.” Dick clapped a hand on his shoulder. Tim jumped at the contact. “We have to watch the prequels.” 

 

Tim looked at Bruce nervously, waiting for him to rebuke the idea. Instead, Bruce asked “Is that okay with your parents?”

 

The question threw Tim off balance. Bruce had never once asked him about his parents. He had never questioned how Tim managed to sneak out night after night for patrol, or how Tim could spend a month in Paris without question, or go home covered in bruises without his parents raising concerns. Tim relied on their lack of attention to make being Robin possible. Tim had to cancel patrol once because his parents were in town, but he didn’t explicitly state that was the reason and Bruce never asked. If anything, the man had seemed relieved that Tim was finally listening to him and staying behind. His exasperation when Tim returned the next day was a bit hurtful, but Tim was nothing if not stubborn. 

 

Dick cleared his throat softly and Tim realized an awkward amount of time had passed since Bruce asked the question. He scrambled to answer, forcing himself to stop bouncing his knee nervously. “Sorry, I’m still waking up. They won’t mind. Uh, if that’s okay with you.”

 

Bruce nodded in acceptance of the answer. “I have some work to do for WE, so it’ll just be you and Alfred.” He turned to Dick. “Don’t break any chandeliers while I’m gone, please.”

 

Dick gave him a mock affronted look. “I haven’t broken a chandelier in five years!” He shrunk slightly under Bruce’s skeptical look. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” 

 

Tim watched in fascination as the two bickered back and forth. He was waiting for it to turn into a fight, but both men had expressions of amusement on their faces. It reminded him of how the original Dynamic Duo used to act, back when Dick was still in the pixie boots. 

 

Bruce finished his breakfast and stood. “Alright, you boys have fun. Make sure you’re well rested for patrol.” Bruce clapped a hand on Dick’s shoulder as he passed. He hesitated for a moment next to Tim, before grunting and continuing out the door. 

 

Dick had a mildly disappointed look on his face. He shook his head slightly and turned back to Tim. “Ready for movies?”

 

“Uh, Dick? I really need to go home. I need to at least get a change of clothes.” Tim looked down at his rumpled appearance. 

 

“Oh, my bad.” Dick rubbed his neck. “I’ll give you a ride home.” 

 

“I can walk, Dick. It’s like, fifteen minutes.” Tim insisted. 

 

“Yeah, but it’s like two if I drive. Anyways, it’s cold out and you don’t have a coat. Let’s go.” Dick led him out to the car. Tim was quickly realizing that arguing with Dick was pointless. 

 

As predicted, Dick and Tim pulled up to Drake Manor two minutes later. Tim climbed out and headed for the front door, pausing and turning when he heard a second car door close. 

 

“Care if I come in?” Dick asked. 

 

“Oh, no that’s fine.” Tim led the way inside. 

 

The differences between Wayne and Drake Manor were immediately apparent. Wayne Manor had been standing (not including several rebuilds) for centuries, while Drake Manor was clearly a newer build. Everything was done in clean, geometric lines. The decorations were minimalistic and impersonal in style. Where Wayne Manor was covered in family heirlooms and portraits, the walls of Drake Manor held his parent’s archeological finds in museum glass cases. 

 

Dick let out a whistle, spinning in a circle and taking in the open concept main floor. “Seems…homey. Uh, why are there sheets on the furniture?”

 

Tim glanced over at the living room which was, in fact, covered in white sheets and drop cloths. “We don’t really use it, so my parents keep it covered unless we have guests over. Come on, my bedroom’s upstairs.” 

 

Tim led the way up to his bedroom, Dick following behind. Unlike the rest of the house, his room looked like it housed a teenage boy. Food wrappers and empty energy drink cans littered the desk, along with an open first aid kit accompanied by a set of bloody bandages. Right, maybe Tim should have cleaned up after his last patrol injury. He grabbed a change of clothes from his dresser and headed to the bathroom to change. 

 

Tim returned a few minutes later, feeling refreshed, to see Dick looking through a pile of photographs from his desk. Luckily they were just various pictures of Gotham, and not pictures of the bats. Tim would never leave those out where someone could see them. Dick looked up when he entered. 

 

“Did you take these?” He held up the photos. 

 

Tim nodded. “Uh, yeah. I used to be into photography.” 

 

“These are really good, Tim.” Tim blushed, searching Dick’s face for any indication that he was teasing, but he found none. The older man seemed honest. “Why’d you stop?”

 

“Well, my camera got broken,” by his father, “and I was too busy anyway so I didn’t get another one. I think my parents will let me get one for Christmas, though.” Tim started packing his backpack with a change of clothes. He suspected he would be persuaded to stay another night and he wanted to be prepared. 

 

“I hope they do.” Dick set the pictures down. “Ready to head out?” 

 

Tim swung the backpack onto his shoulder. “I’m ready.”

Notes:

Tim: I can't possibly impose, Dick is just being polite
Dick: *literally dragging him to breakfast*

Who caught the easter egg about Mark Hamill as Joker? Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving! Please leave comments, it keeps me motivated.

Chapter 3: Code Zucchini

Summary:

Dick meets Tim's parents as Brucie Wayne ruins a gala.

Notes:

Thank you to Kaitlin for catching all of my grammar mistakes!

Dick did manage to convince Tim to stay the rest of the weekend. He didn’t feel right about sending the kid back to his mausoleum of a home. The place had given Dick the creeps; he couldn’t imagine growing up somewhere like that. Bruce joining them that first night had been a pleasant surprise, but it was one step forward two steps back with him. Dick didn’t see him once outside of patrol for the rest of the weekend. By the time Dick dropped Tim off on Sunday night, he was about ready to throttle the avoidant man. 

 

Still, Dick considered the weekend to be a success overall. He and Tim watched the prequels as well as the first season of Clone Wars, which Dick could admit was pretty good. Plus he finally got the kid’s phone number and extracted a promise of more hangouts. 

 

Dick only managed to make it for patrol once over the next two weeks due to an invasion of giant flying jellyfish monsters in Bludhaven, but he stayed in contact with Tim with a steady stream of sea life themed memes. He didn’t understand half the memes Tim sent back, which made him feel incredibly old, but that was a price he was willing to pay. 

 

Thankfully, Bludhaven was once again invertebrate free and Dick could finally take a breather. He pulled out his phone and sent Tim a message. 

 

Me: how do you feel about patrolling in Blud with me this weekend :D

 

Timmy: Can’t, sry :/ parents r home, have some gala 2 go 2

 

Dick frowned at the wording. He made it sound like his parents being home was out of the norm.

 

Me: sounds lame. what gala

 

Timmy: Carvers garden prty

 

Dick wracked his brain. He was fairly sure Mrs. Carver was the old lady who pinched his cheeks until he was sixteen. No doubt she sent Bruce an invitation. Mind made up, he pulled out his phone to call the man.

 

It was time to meet Jack and Janet Drake. 

 

---

 

Dick was right. Bruce had been invited to the gala. What’s more, he actually planned to go to this one due to some WE business which Dick tuned out. Bruce and Alfred didn’t bother hiding their surprise when Dick asked Bruce to get him an invitation as well. After all, these gala’s weren’t exactly his idea of a good time. 

 

Dick and Bruce pulled up to the valet parking, climbing out. Dick watched Bruce transform into Brucie Wayne before his eyes, sporting a friendly grin and general himbo vibes. God, he was embarrassing. Bruce handed his keys and a hundred dollar bill to the very excited valet driver, who thanked him profusely. 

 

Dick and Bruce made their way inside, smiles slotted into place. Instantly a crowd swarmed around them. It was Bruce’s first appearance since Jason, and the morbid curiosity of the upper class was shameless. The return of Dick Grayson, the prodigal son, only increased their interest. 

 

Mrs. Carver pushed through the crowd, red lipstick creeping into the cigarette lines around her mouth. “Is that Dickie Grayson I see?” The old widow reached up, pinching Dick’s cheek. Dick held back a grimace at the gesture. 

 

“Thank you so much for the invitation.” Dick had his own gala persona, which consisted of acting like he was having a good time and didn’t want to crawl out of his skin at all the touching.

 

“Mrs. Carver, you look as lovely as ever.” Bruce exchanged cheek kisses with the woman. 

 

“Oh, it’s so nice to see you boys again! It’s been too long.”  Mrs. Carver’s hairline was covered in the same thick coat of powder as her face. A stray hair had gotten caught in her lipstick, but she didn’t seem to notice. 

 

“The 2023 Wayne New Years Gala, I believe.” Bruce replied. 

 

Mrs. Carver laughed more than the comment warranted. “I’m surprised you remember, Brucie! If I recall correctly, you spent the whole night next to the champagne fountain.” 

 

Bruce laughed along while Dick held back an eye roll. “I admit, the night is a bit of a blur.”

 

“Well, we’ve all been dying to know.” Mrs. Carver leaned in a bit. “Will there be a gala this year? Last year’s season just wasn’t the same without it!”

 

Last year had been their first Christmas without Jason, as Mrs. Carver knew. Dick had spent the week on a space mission with the Titans. He wasn’t sure what Bruce had done, but he imagined it involved a bottle of whiskey and beating up criminals. 

 

“Maybe, Maurine.” Bruce didn’t have to fake the pain in his voice. “I haven’t been up to hosting.”

 

“Oh, of course. After what happened to poor Jared…” Mrs. Carver shook her head, big glossy tears forming on command. 

 

“Jason.” Dick spoke up, fighting hard to keep the anger out off his tone. “His name was Jason. We should let you greet your other guests.” Dick grabbed Bruce’s arm and pulled him away. Bruce would probably tell him off, but he couldn’t stand the fake sympathy any longer. None of these people knew a thing about his little brother. They hadn’t cared about Jason. They didn’t know him. 

 

To his surprise, Bruce just whispered "thanks for the save.”

 

Dick knocked their shoulders together. “What are partners for?”

 

The smile Bruce gave him was genuine. It caught Dick off guard, a warm feeling bubbling in his stomach at the once familiar site. 

 

A crowd quickly formed around Bruce and Dick made a hasty exit towards the drinks table. Finally, he was old enough to drink at one of these things. Don’t get him wrong, he’d been drinking at them for years, but now he didn’t have to hide it from Bruce. 

 

Dick spent the next fifteen minutes being flirted with by old women and pretending to enjoy himself as he waited for the Drakes to arrive. Finally his patience wore off as he saw Tim walk in. The boy was dressed in a smart suit, his usually floppy hair gelled back neatly. An elegant blonde woman stood to his left, long manicured fingers resting on his shoulder. To his right stood a tall, dark haired man who was already laughing loudly and shaking hands with other guests. Dick finished his drink and set down the glass before making his way over. 

 

“Hey, Timmy!” Dick grinned, approaching the trio. Tim’s head snapped up, his already straight posture stiffening even more. Dick noticed a slight tint of concealer under his eyes. 

 

“Timothy? Who is this?” Tim’s mother scanned Dick, taking in his dark complexion and rolled up sleeves with cool eyes. 

 

“Mom, dad, this is Richard Grayson.” Tim responded. 

 

“Jack Drake, and this is my wife Janet.” Jack reached out to shake Dick’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Richard.”

 

“Oh, please.” Dick waved him off. “Call me Dick.”

 

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.” Janet replied evenly. “You are Bruce Wayne's ward, correct?” Her lip curled slightly on the word. 

 

“His son, actually. He adopted me when I was eighteen.” When Bruce had adopted Jason, he had nervously approached Dick about doing the same. He said he hadn’t asked before out of respect for Dick’s parents. Dick had accepted immediately. 

 

“Hm.” Janet squeezed her son’s shoulder. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted with the Wayne’s, Timothy.” 

 

“They are our neighbors, mom. I’ve run into Dick while out walking.” Tim responded softly.

 

“You never mentioned.” Tim glanced down at his shoes for a moment before snapping his head back up when his mother tutted. 

 

Mrs. Carver idled up to the group. “Jack, Janet, so glad you could make it!” The host exchanged air kisses with Janet before pinching Tim’s cheek. Tim accepted the gesture with better grace than Dick had ever managed. “And Timothy! You look just like your father, young man.” 

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Carver.” Tim smiled at the older woman. “It’s wonderful to see you again. How is Anthony?”

 

“Oh, that boy.” Mrs. Carver shook her head. “Always finding trouble of some sort. I believe he’s currently in Beijing, ‘finding himself’ or some such youthful nonsense.” 

 

“That’s too bad.” Jack responded, faux concern on his face. “Timothy here would never behave in such a way, but of course every child is different.” 

 

Dick was familiar with this song and dance from his own youth rubbing elbows with the Gotham elite, but watching Tim be talked about like that was strange. 

 

“How is school going, Timothy?” Mrs. Carver turned to Tim.

 

“School is going well, Mrs. Carter. The workload is manageable.” Tim responded, sounding like he was reading from a familiar script.

 

“Oh, our Timothy. So modest.” Janet smiled. “Timothy is currently top of his class at Gotham Academy. He’s in advanced science and math classes.” 

 

Dick let out a whistle. “Dang, I didn’t know that, Tim. Way to go.” Juggling middle school and vigilante duties was no walk in the part, Dick remembered well. Dick’s comment finally broke through Tim’s mask, causing the boy to blush and smile at his shoes. Dick smiled in return, until Janet cleared her throat and Tim immediately raised his chin, smile gone. 

 

“Well, we must make the rounds. It was nice meeting you, Richard. Maurine, let’s meet for tea soon.” Janet elegantly ended the conversation, leading Tim away with Jack close behind. Tim sent a soft ‘bye’ Dick’s way as he passed. 

 

Dick was once again left alone with Mrs. Carter. “What a lovely family! I’m so glad they could make it back from Indonesia in time to attend.”

 

“Indonesia?” Dick turned to Mrs. Carter. “They were in Indonesia?”

 

“Oh, yes. The Drakes love to travel, dear. They’re quite well known for their archeology and conservation work.” Mrs. Carter smiled. 

 

It took several more minutes of laughing and talking about nothing before Dick was able to extricate himself from the conversation. By that time Tim and the Drakes were lost in the crowd. Dick saw Bruce standing near the champagne tower, a woman hanging on each arm as a large group laughed at whatever story he was telling. Dick started in his direction, planning to make him go meet the Drakes. 

 

“Dick!” Bruce smiled widely. “Have you met Vanessa and Porschia?” 

 

Dick smiled in return. “I don’t believe I have. Lovely to make your acquaintance, ladies.” Dick kissed each of their hands, eliciting giggles from the women. If Dick had to guess, they were models who had been invited to make the party look good. They were smart to latch onto Bruce. They would likely end the night with a diamond tennis bracelet as thanks for their company without having to actually go home with the man. Bruce got to maintain his playboy reputation, the women got to pay for college. All in all a win for everyone.  

 

Dick scanned the room for the Drakes as Bruce continued his story, laughing at the appropriate moments. When he saw them his smile faltered. They were standing partially behind a pillar in the corner of the room. Janet was leaning down, scowl on her face as she held Tim’s upper arms tightly. Jack stood beside her, arms crossed and a look of annoyance on his face. Tim was staring at his feet, nodding every few seconds. 

 

Dick took a step in their direction just as Tim looked up. The boy's eyes widened when he saw Dick and he shook his head quickly. Dick frowned at the gesture. He wasn’t going to just watch them tear into Tim like that. He turned back to Bruce. 

 

“Hey B, code zucchini.” He muttered in the man’s ear. It was a system they had come up with when Dick was ten and had a panic attack at a garden party. If he said zucchini, Bruce would cause a distraction so Dick could make an easy exit. No questions asked. He hadn’t used it in years, but Bruce straightened up immediately, giving Dick a small nod. 

 

“Anyway, ladies. So there I was, lost in the French Alps with only a paperclip and my brain-” Bruce reached blindly behind himself for a glass of champagne. Tragically, he grabbed a glass from the bottom of the tower. Bruce let out a shout of surprise as the tower toppled down, backing into Vanessa and Porschia in a way that pushed them out of the line of fire. A huge crash of crystal sounded throughout the room as a wave of champagne soaked the floor. 

 

The ballroom was dead silent until Bruce started laughing sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, gee, I’m so clumsy.” He had his most ditzy smile in place. Dick retreated towards the back of the room. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Carter. I will of course pay for all the damages, and dry cleaning for everyone in the splash zone.” 

 

Mrs. Carter let out a strained laugh as she made her way over, eye twitching slightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Brucie. These things happen.”

 

“No, I insist. After all,” Bruce laughed again, “I have plenty of money to spare.”

 

People started making their way towards the door, party over now that the dance floor was covered in broken glass and sticky liquid. Dick made his way to where he had last seen Tim. He found the fourteen year old standing wide eyed in the same spot as before, parents long gone. 

 

“Hey kiddo, you okay? Where’d your parents go?” Dick scanned the younger boy. 

 

“They went to get the car.” Tim was still gaping at Bruce. “I’ve seen Brucie Wayne in action before, but that was next level.” 

 

Dick laughed. “He’s good for a distraction. He’ll probably be a few minutes while he focuses on making it worse.” 

 

Tim checked his phone. “Well, I should get going Dick. Can’t keep mom and dad waiting.” 

 

“Are you going out tonight?” Dick asked, not wanting to let the kid go yet.

 

Tim shook his head. “No, I told B I needed the week off since my parents are here. I should be good to go by Saturday though. See ya, Dick.” The boy turned and blended easily into the crowd, following the wave of people outside. Dick made his own exit soon after, sending a valet to get Bruce’s car as he waited for the older man. 

 

Bruce arrived several minutes later, stinking of champagne. The man sighed when he saw Dick in the driver’s seat. “Really?”

 

“You can’t drive smelling like that, B. What if we got pulled over?” Dick grinned, revving the engine. Bruce just gave him the dad glare (not to be confused with the bat glare) until Dick groaned and climbed out, moving to the passenger seat. 

 

“So, code zucchini. What happened?” Bruce pulled out of the parking lot. 

 

“Let’s talk about it at home.” Dick replied, ears ringing as he was finally in a quiet space. 

 

Bruce nodded and continued the ride in silence. Once they got back to the manor, Dick and Bruce made their way to the cave to prepare for patrol. 

 

“I met the Drakes.” Dick pulled on his suit. Bruce hummed to show he was listening as he checked his grappling hook. 

 

“I didn’t like them.” Dick turned to face Bruce. 

 

“You don’t like anyone at those galas.” Bruce responded. 

 

“That’s not true. I can get along with everyone just fine. You’re the one who hates them all.” Bruce didn’t argue Dick’s point. “Mrs. Carver said they just got back from Indonesia.”

 

Bruce didn’t respond as he checked his utility belt. 

 

“B? Are you listening?” Dick felt his exasperation growing. 

 

“Yes, I’m listening. The Drakes travel, Dick. This isn’t new information. Is that why you called a code zucchini? Because you didn’t like Tim’s parents?” Bruce raised a judgemental eyebrow. 

 

“You didn’t hear how they talked about him. They kept going on about his school achievements and grades.” It was like they were talking about an especially well trained dog.

 

Bruce let out a sigh. “So you were upset because his parents were…praising his school performance?”

 

Dick groaned. “No, B. It wasn’t like they were proud of him. It was like they wanted all their friends to know they were superior.”

“That’s how these events go. It doesn’t mean they’re bad people. It definitely isn’t a reason to have me ruin the party.” Bruce looked at him in disappointment. Dick felt irritation building in his chest. Bruce was always doing this; looking at him like he was still an eight year old Robin rather than a grown man.

 

“Can’t you trust my judgement on this? Tim said he’s taking the week off because his parents are here. That implies they normally aren’t. Has he ever taken off patrol before?”

 

Bruce didn’t answer Dick’s question, just pulled on his cowl. 

 

“Master Timothy has missed patrol exactly twice before today.” Alfred walked over to the batcomputer to prepare for comms duty. “Once on my insistence, when he had the flu, and once when his parents were visiting. I daresay they leave the boy more than is healthy for a child.” 

 

Dick clenched his fists. Why was Alfred just saying something now? His disapproval was clear, why hadn’t he done anything about it?

 

“Tim wouldn’t thank either of you for speculating about his personal life.” Batman was fully suited up, making his way towards the batmobile. 

 

“Bruce, we can’t just ignore this!” Dick called after him. 

 

“Sirs,” Alfred said. “There is a hostage situation in the diamond district. GCPD is calling for Batman’s help.”

 

“Let’s go.” With a dramatic twirl of his cape, Bruce entered the batmobile. Dick sighed in frustration and grabbed his bike. 

 

Notes:

Dick: And then he said Tim's the top of his class!
Bruce, deadpan: The horror

I hope you all enjoyed! Next week will have a bit more angst and a lot more bonding.

Chapter 4: I'm Not Him

Summary:

Tim has his first patrol in Bludhaven. Dick gets gently retraumatized.

Tim made his way into the Batcave Tuesday night, exhaustion in every step. The weekend with his parents had been a disaster after the gala. The cherry on top was his mother ripping into him at the gala for talking to someone as ‘ill bred’ as Dick Grayson. Tim managed to convince her that it was good networking regardless of Dick’s background, but his arms were still sore from where her nails had dug in. He was almost relieved when he went down for breakfast that morning and saw their suitcases by the front door. Then he felt guilty for feeling relieved. 

 

After school he had pulled the sheets back onto the furniture and let Mrs. Mac know that she only had to drop off groceries for one on Wednesday.

 

Batman was working at the computer when Tim entered the main area of the cave. He looked up in surprise. “Robin. I thought you were staying in this week.” 

 

“Had a change of plans.” Tim shifted his weight. “Is…is that alright?”

 

Batman stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “I know it isn’t as exciting as patrol, but I could use your help with this cold case. Come join me.”

 

Tim nodded and made his way over, falling heavily into the other chair. He wanted the distraction of patrol but he really was exhausted. He never managed to sleep well when his parents were home, for some reason. Plus, he enjoyed solving cold cases. Finding answers for families who had long ago lost hope was one of the most important things he could do as Robin. 

 

Tim and Bruce worked for hours at the computer. Tim knew he was being quieter than usual, but he didn’t have the energy to fill the silence more than was necessary for solving the case. He kept waiting for Batman to leave for patrol, or tell him to scram, but he didn’t. Instead he listened patiently as Tim explored different theories and reviewed evidence, offering his own observations and counterpoints. Around one, the man leaned back in his seat, staring at the screen. 

 

“I have to look into a few of these leads in person, but I think your hunch is right.”

 

Tim nodded. “I’ll suit up.” 

 

“It’s getting late, and you have school tomorrow. Let’s call it a night.”

 

“What about patrol?” Tim asked. 

 

“Gotham will be okay for one night. Go home, Robin.” 

 

Tim tried not to be stung by the dismissal. Patrol and movie nights with Dick had thrown off the status quo. Tim needed the reminder that this was a working relationship. 

 

“Right. I’ll be back tomorrow. Goodnight, sir.” Tim winced slightly at the slip up. Bruce had asked him from the start not to call him sir, but old habits die hard, especially after a weekend with his father. He grabbed his bag and made his way back home. 

 

---

 

Dick received a call from Alfred on Wednesday letting him know that Tim was patrolling again. When Friday rolled around Dick was once again parked outside of Tim’s school, waiting for the younger boy. 

 

Tim exited the school with the same blond boy as last time, this time in silence. Dick noted the slump to his shoulders as he waved at his friend and started towards the bus stop. He didn’t jump this time when Dick honked, he just made his way over to the car. 

 

“Need a ride?” Dick offered. Tim nodded, sliding into the car. Dick started driving.

 

“So, I heard you’re back patrolling.” Dick said.

 

Tim nodded. “Yeah.” 

 

“Well, I could really use a hand in Bludhaven this weekend. What do you think?” Dick asked.

 

“Oh, um, I don’t know. I told Bruce I’d be available here.” Tim was bouncing his knee, causing the car to shake slightly. 

 

“I already cleared it with him. Come on, it’ll be fun. I want to take you train surfing.” 

 

“Train surfing?” The boy sounded skeptical.

 

“Yeah! You like skateboarding, you’re gonna love this. It’s a total adrenaline rush, plus good agility training.” Dick hadn’t gone train surfing in months. He had missed it.

 

“Uh, if Bruce okayed it, and you’re sure you want me there, then okay.” Tim glanced up at Dick nervously. Tim’s timid behavior was a blow to Dick. He thought they had been making progress. 

 

“Of course I want you there! It’ll be fun. And having you for backup will be a huge help.” Dick headed towards Bristol. “We can stop at your place and pack a bag for the weekend. Do you have a suit at home?” 

 

TIm nodded. Soon they arrived at Drake Manor, which looked as cold and imposing as ever. Dick waited in the car this time as Tim packed. He noted the lack of lights on in the house, as well as no cars in the driveway. Tim jogged out a few minutes later. 

 

“Got everything?” Dick asked. 

 

“Yeah, thanks for waiting.” Tim put his bag in the backseat and buckled himself. Dick started the journey back to Bludhaven. 

 

An awkward silence filled the car, reminding Dick of his earlier attempts at patrol with Tim. He tapped his fingers nervously against the wheel, debating if he should ask this question. Eventually, curiosity won out. 

 

“So, your parents cool with you being gone all weekend?” Dick had a hunch, and he needed to check.

 

“They won't mind.” Tim replied, picking at his cuticles. 

 

“Last weekend, at the gala, they seemed surprised we knew each other. Where do you tell them you are during patrol and stuff?” Dick reached into his center console, pulling out a rubik’s cube. He tossed it wordlessly to Tim, who caught it easily. 

 

“Oh, um.” Tim turned his attention to the cube rather than his abused nail beds. “I haven’t really told them anything. Uh, what kind of cases do you have open right now in Bludhaven, anyways?”

 

The topic change was clumsy, but Dick allowed it since Tim was growing tenser in his seat by the second. He filled Tim in on everything he needed to know before patrol for the rest of the car ride. Internally, he thought about Tim’s answer. Tim had no cover story for his parents. Dick knew it wasn’t because he couldn’t come up with one; Bruce had said Tim was a natural at improvising and spinning stories. If he hadn’t told his parents where he was going, it was because they hadn’t asked. 

 

When they arrived in Bludhaven the sun was already mostly set. Tim followed as Dick went up to the top floor, unlocking his door so they could walk into his small apartment. Dick’s place wasn’t anything special. It was only about five hundred square feet, with a tiny kitchen, living room, bathroom, and bedroom. The furniture was all mismatched pieces Dick had gotten from Goodwill or the dump. Still, Dick had paid for everything himself and he was proud of that.

 

“Go ahead and put your bag in my room. I’ll take the couch.” Dick pointed out the door to his bedroom.

 

“No that’s okay, you don’t need to give me your bed, Dick.” Tim reassured him.

 

“I insist. Besides, I sleep on the couch half the time anyway. Nightmares, you know?” Dick grabbed a take out menu off the fridge. Tim was still standing near the door, bag in hand. 

 

“You get nightmares?” There was no judgement in the boy’s tone, only curiosity. 

 

“Oh, yeah.” Dick nodded, taking Tim’s bag and handing him the take out menu. “Kind of comes with the job. Now pick out what you want to eat before we head out.” Dick brought the bag to his bedroom and set it on the dresser. 

 

In the end they ordered Chinese food. It was a good option to pack in carbs and protein before patrol. Once they had eaten, they geared up and headed for the train tracks. 

 

---

The next hour was a rush of adrenaline and close calls with sharp corners.

 

“Ready for the dismount?” 

 

They were coming up on a bridge. Tim allowed Dick to guide him as they both aimed their grapple guns. Tim waited for the signal from Dick before firing. The two vigilantes leapt from the back of the train, momentum swinging them through the tunnel and back up to the top. They landed in sync on top of the tunnel.

 

Tim bent over, hands on his knees, breathless from laughter and adrenaline. 

 

“That. Was. Amazing.” Tim panted out, grinning widely. Dick was smiling just as hard. 

 

“Told you. Even better than skateboarding.” Dick offered Tim some water, which he happily drank. After a few moments of rest, Robin and Nightwing prepared for patrol.

 

Patrol in Bludhaven proved to be very different from Gotham. While Gotham had old architecture and gargoyles to attach grapples to, Bludhaven’s buildings had much sleeker designs. Instead of grappling, there was a series of connected wires strung between buildings. Nightwing could run across so quickly it looked like he was flying. Robin was slower, using his bo staff to keep balance as he got the hang of it. 

 

It didn’t take long for them to come across trouble. Nightwing stuck out an arm, signalling for Robin to pause. Down below a group of three men had cornered a boy younger than Tim and appeared to be threatening him. 

 

“You get the kid, I’ll distract them.” Nightwing whispered. Robin nodded and the two vigilantes dropped down. 

 

Nightwing engaged the three men while Robin pulled the boy to safety. The shaking kid stared at him in shock.

 

“Are you alright?” Tim scanned him for injuries. 

 

“R-robin.” Was all he said, staring at Tim with wide eyes. 

 

“That’s me, kiddo. You’re safe now. What’s your name?” 

 

“Teddy.” The boy replied, voice shaking. 

 

“Well Teddy, where do you live? Can I help you get home? It’s not safe out here.” Tim hoped the kid would let him help, but he knew he didn’t carry the same credibility here as in Gotham. 

 

“I was just - hey watch out!” The kid cried. Robin whirled around and pushed Teddy out of the way right as a fourth man nailed him in the ribs with a crowbar. Robin went down with a cry of pain. The man hit him a second time before he could catch his breath.

 

“Robin!” Nightwing had already incapacitated two of the men. He hit the one in his grasp hard in the face and dropped him, running over. Nightwing had his escrima sticks out and electrified before Tim could even catch his breath. He shoved one into Crowbar Man’s gut, knocking him over the head with the other.

 

Tim had never seen such a furious expression on Nightwing’s face. The older vigilante was usually smiling and teasing even when faced with the worst criminals. Seeing his brow furrowed and lips pulled back over his teeth as he struck the man was unsettling. 

 

Dick had punched the man in the face several times by the time Robin managed to choke out “Nightwing!” The vigilante immediately dropped the man and hurried over. 

 

“Robin, are you okay?” Nightwing’s tone was frantic as he tried to stop Robin from sitting up, placing two shaking hands on Tim’s shoulders.

 

“I’m fine.” Robin coughed a couple times. “He just caught me off guard. Where’s Teddy?” 

 

Nightwing glanced up. “He ran off. I’ll have Oracle make sure he got home safely. Let’s get back to the apartment so I can look you over.” 

 

“What? No, I’m fine. It’s barely ten o’clock.” Tim didn’t understand why the man was panicking so much. 

 

“No, we’re done for the night. That’s an order.” Tim was about to protest when he took in Dick’s pale, sweaty face and too fast breathing. Something had spooked the man badly. 

 

“Okay. We can go back. Let’s just make sure Teddy is okay first.” Tim used his most soothing tone. 

 

Nightwing insisted Robin stay seated while he called Oracle. Tim didn’t argue, even though he felt perfectly fine. 

 

“He’s okay.” Nightwing confirmed. “Oracle saw him head into one of the youth shelters.” His tone was slightly steadier. 

 

Robin nodded. “Good, I’m glad. Can I stand up now?” 

 

Nightwing helped him to his feet. “Yes, but let me know if you need to take a break.” 

 

“I really am fine, Wing. I promise.” Robin reassured him. He was starting to guess what had Nightwing so upset. They headed back towards the apartment. 

 

Twenty minutes later Tim was sitting on Dick’s couch, holding a bag of frozen peas to his side. Dick had locked himself in the bathroom as soon as he had confirmed that Tim’s ribs weren’t broken. 

 

A month into his tenure as Robin, Tim had already managed to get access to most files on the batcomputer. He was fairly certain he only made it past Barbara’s firewalls because she allowed it. One night after Bruce had gone to bed, he snuck back in to read the files on his predecessor. The autopsy report had been deeply disturbing. Blunt force trauma to the head and torso, third degree burns to most of the body, asphyxiation. Tim immediately regretted his curiosity. 

 

One other thing stood out to him about the report. The Joker’s weapon of choice that day had been a crowbar. 

 

Tim was used to Bruce looking at him and seeing Jason in his place. He supposed he could understand Dick doing the same.

 

Dick exited the bathroom, pulling Tim from his thoughts. His face was damp, as if he had splashed it with water, but his hands were no longer shaking. 

 

“Are you okay?” Tim asked quietly. 

 

Dick nodded, rubbing his neck and looking down at his feet. “Yeah, I’m sorry I freaked out back there. Not sure what got into me.” 

 

“I should have been paying more attention. I’ll do better next time.” Tim promised. He hoped Dick didn’t tell Bruce about his mistake. 

 

“We didn’t know there was a fourth, Tim. It wasn’t your fault.” Dick sat down on the other side of the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. The man looked absolutely drained. “How are your ribs feeling?”

 

“They’re fine, Dick. Really.” They were actually extremely sore but Tim wasn’t going to tell the man that when he had finally calmed down. Dick gave him a skeptical look anyway. 

 

“Keep icing them for ten more minutes.” Dick instructed. “I want to have Alfred xray them tomorrow, just in case.” 

 

Tim held back a sigh of frustration. He wasn’t going to bother Alfred over a bruise. “That’s not necessary.” 

 

“Broken ribs are no joke, Tim. Neither is internal bleeding.” Dick looked at him seriously. 

 

Tim knew that. He also knew his ribs weren’t broken. He shouldn’t ask, but he needed to know. He clenched his fists tightly, looking down at his lap. “Is this about Jason?”

 

“What?” Dick sounded stricken. Tim didn’t look up. 

 

“Ever since that night with Joker, you’ve been acting…different. Treating me different. And then tonight…” Tim sighed, forcing himself to look up. He pointed his gaze at the wall behind Dick. “Is it because of what happened to Jason?”

 

A long, heavy silence stretched between them. Tim felt his muscles tensing further as it dragged on. A voice in his head was screaming at him for being an idiot, for not just accepting the attention he was given and leaving it at that. But as per usual, his curiosity won out, no matter the cost. He finally forced himself to look Dick in the eye. The man had grief etched into every line of his face. Tim instantly wanted to take the question back.

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Tim started. “You don’t have to -” 

 

Dick raised a hand, cutting him off. Tim bit his lip nervously.

 

“No, it’s okay. It was a fair question.” Dick sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I made… a lot of mistakes with Jason. I didn’t show up for him until it was too late.” He shook his head, breaking eye contact again. “When we thought you had died, I realized history was repeating itself. Except this time, I got a second chance. I knew I had to do better, so I started trying to reach out more. I guess it must have seemed kind of sudden.” 

 

And there it was. Dick wasn’t doing this for Tim, he was doing this because he felt guilty about Jason. It was the answer Tim had expected, and he had no room to complain. His eyes were burning anyway.

 

“I..I understand, Dick. But I’m not him.” How could Tim be? Jason had been a perfect Robin, and a perfect son. He was probably a perfect brother, too. Tim was none of those things. God knew he had tried to squeeze and stretch himself to fill the gap his predecessor left behind, but it was hopeless. He saw it every time Batman’s smile died, turning his eyes to Robin and seeing the wrong boy.  

 

Tim continued.  “You don’t have to do all this. I don’t need movie nights and train surfing. Things were fine before.” 

 

“No, Tim.” Dick shook his head. “They weren’t. I was avoiding you, and that was wrong of me. Robin was my mantle first. I created it, not Bruce. That means I have a responsibility to be there for anyone following in my footsteps. Especially you.” 

 

Tim picked at his cuticles, trying to figure out how to make Dick understand. “You really don’t need to feel obligated. I can handle things fine on my own. I already have Batman as a mentor. It wouldn’t be fair for me to expect anything more from you.” 

 

Tim couldn’t stand the idea of being just a responsibility, a burden, to Dick. He already was that for Bruce, and his parents. He couldn’t handle another person viewing him that way. 

 

“It’s not just obligation, though. I mean, maybe that’s what it was at first, but I genuinely want to know you and be there for you Tim. Will you give me a chance?” Tim felt a lump form in his throat at Dick’s words. He glanced back up, looking for any signs of deception in the man. All he found was an intense earnestness. 

 

Tim mulled over Dick’s question, but he knew it was pointless. Tim had a habit of giving the people he cared about as many chances as they wanted. Maybe this time it would be worth it. His parents' constant coming and going had taught him that it was best to grab whatever affection came his way while it lasted, and to move on as quickly as possible when it disappeared. Dick Grayson was his hero. There was no way Tim would say no. 

 

So, with a slight smile tugging at his lips, Tim agreed. 

Notes:

Bruce: Hmm, Tim looks tired. I'll send him home early tonight so he can rest.

Tim: He hates me :(

Y'all I am almost done writing this fic and it is soooo long. Like, 90,000 words. I'm kind of worried that no one is actually going to want to read it, but my lovely beta Kaitlin continues to reassure me. Let me know what you thought! Next chapter will feature Christmas fluff :)

Chapter 5: Tree Farm Adventures

Summary:

Dick convinces Tim to join the Waynes for Christmas Break!

Notes:

Thanks for reading! And thanks to Kaitlin for beta reading.

Once again, Dick was on a mission. The mission was “Get Bruce to Let Tim Stay Over for Winter Break and Then Convince Tim it is a Good Idea.” The title was a work in progress. 

 

The first step was buttering Bruce up. Dick came over from Bludhaven a day earlier than normal. Then he forced himself to follow Bruce’s lead on patrol. Finally, he agreed to Alfred’s request that he sit down for more of a breakfast than toast and coffee. The stage was set. 

 

Bruce was sitting across from him, eating an omelet, while Dick worked through a stack of pancakes. Dick watched and waited for him to finish his coffee. Once he was sure the man was as close to a good mood as he could get, he pounced.

 

“So, I was thinking I would take the last week of December and first week of January off and spend the holidays here.” Dick kept his tone casual. 

 

Bruce almost dropped his mug. “Really?”

 

“Yes.” Dick fought to keep the defensiveness out of his tone. “Is that okay with you?”

 

“Of course.” Bruce responded immediately. “I’m just surprised.”

 

“Yeah, well, family time is important.” Bruce looked skeptical, so Dick decided to get to the point. “And I was thinking I’d invite Tim, too.” 

 

Bruce was quiet for a long moment. Dick mentally reviewed his argument points. 

 

“If Tim wants to, he is welcome to stay over. Though I imagine he has plans with his parents.” Bruce finally responded. 

 

“Come on, Bruce! You have to -” Bruce’s words sunk in. “Oh, right. Okay then.” 

 

Bruce looked vaguely amused at Dick’s aborted argument. “Let me know what he says.”

 

“Right. Yes. I will.” Mission 50% complete.

 

---

 

Convincing Bruce to let Tim stay over winter break was easier than Dick had expected. Convincing Tim turned out to be the harder part. 

 

“I don’t know, Wing.” Robin and Nightwing had been going back and forth for several minutes. They were once again at Stella’s, Dick eating a cone of Lucky Charms ice cream while Tim worked on a bowl of salted caramel mocha. The diner was completely deserted, Stella once again working in the back. “Christmas is family time, you know?”

 

“Do you have plans with your parents?” Dick asked, surprised. The Drakes didn’t strike him as the holiday type. 

 

“Well, no, we don’t really celebrate Christmas. I meant for you and B.” Tim fidgeted in his seat. 

 

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Dick reassured. “B and I both want you there. Agent A, too.”

 

“Really?” Tim looked skeptical. Dick supposed that was fair, based on the usual reception the boy received.

 

“Absolutely!” Dick put as much enthusiasm into his tone as possible. It wasn’t hard; he loved Christmas. “It’ll be so fun! We’ll go ice skating, and Christmas shopping, and drink hot chocolate, and bake cookies, and buy a tree, and-”

 

“Okay, okay.” Tim cut him off with a laugh. “I get it, you want to recreate a Hallmark movie. Just, are you sure B is okay with it?”

 

“I promise, Robin. He said so himself.” Technically, Dick said so this morning and Bruce didn’t disagree, but close enough. Dick wasn’t sure how Bruce had held out this long without his adoption tendencies kicking in for Tim, but he knew Christmas was the key. Despite his perpetually grumpy demeanor, Bruce had a major soft spot for the holiday. Dick was sure he could get Bruce to actually bond with the kid.

 

Tim chewed his lip, clearly thinking hard. Dick forced himself to wait patiently. Tim always took his time answering questions, preferring to consider all of his options in detail rather than make a hasty decision. Finally, the boy nodded.

“Alright. If you’re sure.” Tim gave a small smile.

 

“Woohoo!” Dick threw his arms up in victory, totally forgetting about the ice cream cone in his hand. The cold treat landed on his head with a ‘plop’. It was worth it for the way Tim started cracking up. 

---

 

Tim had insisted on going back to Drake Manor after patrol with plans to join the Wayne's the following afternoon. He mentioned wanting to finish his homework so he wouldn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the break. 

 

At three in the afternoon, Dick and Bruce pulled up to Drake Manor in a large SUV. It was one of Bruce’s more inconspicuous rides. Dick sent Tim a text letting him know they had arrived. 

 

Tim walked out a minute later carrying a duffel bag. Dick watched as he stopped and locked the door behind him. Once again, there was no sign of life in the manor. Tim made his way over to the car and climbed into the backseat.

 

“Thanks again for picking me up.” He said.

 

“It was no trouble, Tim.” Bruce responded, pulling out of the long driveway. Dick nodded in agreement. 

 

“Um, where are we going?” Tim asked a minute later when they drove past Wayne Manor. 

 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” Dick tossed him a hat and gloves. “We’re going to a tree farm!”

 

Tim caught them, his eyebrows screwing together in confusion. “Wait, people actually do that?”

 

“Well, yeah! Where do you think Christmas trees come from?” Dick asked. 

 

“I dunno, the one we used when I was a kid was plastic.” Tim shrugged. 

 

Dick gasped in mock outrage. “You’ve never had a real tree?” He turned to Bruce when Tim shook his head. “Bruce! Do you hear this blasphemy?”

 

Bruce sighed. Dick recognized the fondness underneath his tone. “Plenty of people use plastic trees, Chum.” 

 

“Yeah.” Tim agreed. “It would be a lot of work to set up a real tree, just to take it down the next day.”

 

“You guys only set up your tree for one day?” Dick asked. 

 

“Well, not anymore. Like I said, we aren’t really Christmas people. But mom and dad used to host a Christmas party every year when I was younger. They’d pay someone to come in and decorate for the day. Mom always had them take it back down the day after because she didn’t like the clutter.” 

 

Dick tried to imagine going through the holiday season without decorations. The idea made him sad. Even back in the circus, his mom and dad would get a miniature tree and stockings for their caravan. And Bruce liked to leave the tree up until the new year. 

 

The tree farm was about an hour away. To pass the time, Dick read out riddles from his phone. He barely got to the end of most of them before either Bruce or Tim blurted out the answer, sometimes at the same time. 

 

“Here we are, boys.” Bruce pulled into the gravel parking lot of the tree farm. It was a small place, just a few acres of trees and an old house for the couple who owned the farm. They had been going since Dick first moved in with Bruce. 

 

There weren’t too many people present, but Bruce still put on a knitted hat and sunglasses, along with a cashmere scarf around his neck that basically screamed ‘I’m trying to look like I’m not rich and famous.’ He led the way out to the trees. 

 

“Alright. Alfred put a cap at eight feet. Other than that, pick whichever one you think is best.” He walked around to the trunk of his car and pulled out a saw, because Bruce was the type of person to insist on cutting down his own tree. 

 

The trio strolled through rows and rows of trees. The ones near the front were all fairly young. Bruce led them back to the taller trees. After half an hour, they still hadn’t found one. They were all too tall, or too short, or too sparse, or leaning too far to the left. 

 

“Dick, you have to agree to one eventually. How about this one?” Bruce stopped in front of another tree. Dick tilted his head to the side, squinting at the tree. 

 

“Ehhh. Too skinny.” Dick decided. This was Tim’s first Christmas with them. They needed to find the perfect one. 

 

Up until this point, Tim had been following Dick quietly, not giving much of an opinion on any of the trees. Finally he spoke up. “What about this one?” 

 

Dick and Bruce turned and saw Tim pointing at a large Douglas Fir. Dick examined the tree just as critically as he had all the others. It was full, symmetrical, and had a nice width to it. There was just one problem.

 

“It’s perfect, but it’s definitely taller than eight feet.” It was true, the tree had to be close to ten.

 

“The ceiling in the family room is twelve feet high.” Bruce walked towards the tree. “I don’t think we’ll find one better than this. Good job, Tim. Do you want to help me cut it?” 

 

Tim’s cheeks flushed, though it was unclear if it was from the praise or the cold. “Oh, sure. I’m not sure how, though.” 

 

“It’s fairly simple.” Bruce walked Tim through how to handle the saw, and how to cut the correct notches into the tree. Dick stepped back, allowing the two of them to work together. 

 

Bruce and Tim made quick work of the tree. Once they were done, the trio made their way to the house. The garage had been converted into a small gift shop. Mismatched tables and counters filled the space, each one covered in an assortment of trinkets, ornaments, jams, honey, embroidered towels, and every other possible holiday related goody. The space smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and something uniquely Christmas that Dick couldn’t put his finger on. The warm air felt heavenly against his cold face.

 

An old man was sitting behind the counter, knitting what appeared to be a large blanket. He looked up when they entered. “Bruce! It’s so good to see you.” He set aside his project and walked around the counter. “We missed you last year.” 

 

“Joe.” Bruce shook the man’s hand, smiling warmly. “How’s Carol?”

 

“Oh, she’s good. She’s out with the grandkids tonight.” Joe turned to Dick and Tim. “And little Dickie! All grown up I see.”

 

Dick gave the jovial man a hug. “Hey Joe, good to see you.” 

 

“And who’s this?” He gestured at Tim. 

 

“This is our neighbor, Tim.” Bruce placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “He’s joining us for the holidays this year.” 

 

“Wonderful to meet you, son!” Joe shook Tim’s hand, smiling widely. “Is this your first time on the farm?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Tim responded. Dick saw him leaning slightly into Bruce’s touch. 

 

“Well then, you have to try some of Carol’s hot chocolate.” Joe made his way over to a large urn  and filled a styrofoam cup before grabbing a santa themed thermos from a shelf and filling it. 

 

“Here, you boys can have some for the road.” He handed the cup to Tim.

 

“Thank you.” Tim took a small sip. His eyes widened. “Wow, this is really good.” 

 

“I’ll tell Carol you said so.” Joe handed the thermos to Bruce.

 

“Tim, let’s pick out ornaments.” Dick led Tim over to a tree covered in different hand painted ornaments of all shapes and sizes while Bruce paid for the tree and thermos. 

 

“What for?” Tim followed Dick, looking at the tree.

 

“It’s tradition, we get a new one every year. Here, you can help me pick one for Alfred.” 

 

Dick settled on a cat flying a space ship. Tim found a blue orb painted with silver stars. For Alfred, they picked a blown glass octopus. 

 

“What about Bruce? Shouldn’t we get one for him?” Tim asked, scanning the tree. 

 

“Good idea.” Dick agreed. “Why don’t you pick?”

 

Tim spent several more minutes examining the tree. Finally, he reached up and grabbed a hand felted brown bat wearing a Santa hat.

 

“Too on the nose?” He asked, looking up at Dick.

 

“Nah.” Dick laughed. “It’s perfect.” Dick gathered the ornaments and brought them up to the counter to pay. Bruce had already stepped out to start loading the tree onto the car. How he thought he was going to lift a ten foot tree on his own, Dick didn’t know, but he was willing to let the man try and fail. 

 

Soon they were making their way back to Bristol, oversized tree attached to the roof of the SUV. In the end it had taken all three of them to get it up there. 

 

During the ride Dick continued with the riddle game. After noticing Tim hadn’t answered the last few, Dick turned back to see the teenager sleeping, chin dropped down to his chest.  

 

“Guess we wore him out.” Dick said softly, not wanting to wake him up. 

 

“Hm.” Bruce responded, glancing back in the mirror. “Guess so.” 

 

They continued in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Christmas songs playing softly on the radio. 

 

“I’m glad you invited him.” Bruce broke the silence. 

 

“Yeah, me too.” Dick agreed, smiling in victory. 

 

---

 

Tim woke up to a gentle hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, squinting up at Bruce. 

 

“Hey, Tim. We’re home.” The man said, tone softer than Tim had heard from him before. 

 

“Oh.” Tim sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.” 

 

“That’s alright. That’s what winter break is for.” Bruce stepped back so Tim could climb out of the car. Dick was untying the ropes holding the tree in place. 

 

The three of them worked together to maneuver the tree inside and into the family room. Alfred let out an exasperated sigh when he caught sight of the massive fir, but didn’t protest. After a lot of pivoting and complaints from Dick the tree was set up in its stand. 

 

“I took the liberty of bringing the decorations down from the attic, sirs.” Alfred gestured to two totes full of ornaments. 

 

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce opened up the first tote, pulling out a ginormous, tangled string of lights. “This may take a while.” 

 

The rest of the night was spent decorating the tree and surrounding room. Alfred had already strung garlands and multicolored, incandescent lights around the manor while they were out. Strings of dried oranges and cranberries accented the green. Tim enjoyed himself more than he had expected, especially when Dick put him on his shoulders to decorate the top of the tree. The Waynes had a very eclectic collection of ornaments. Some matched what Tim was used to, such as glass orbs and icicles. The handmade ornaments surprised him more. There were popsicle sticks painted as snowmen, school pictures in glittery frames, and clay handprints from both Dick and Bruce’s childhoods. Tim faintly recalled doing similar projects in elementary school, but he had never kept them. He knew he tried to bring home a macaroni angel once, but his mother said it would attract rats, so it was thrown away. 

 

Tim reached into the box and pulled out one of the remaining ornaments. He unwrapped it to reveal a ceramic ornament shaped like a book. Rather than a title, the spine read “Jason’s first Christmas.” Tim felt his gut twist as he stared at the book, unsure what to do with it. He turned to look at Dick and Bruce for guidance. Bruce was distracted, attempting to untangle the remaining string lights. Dick was already looking at the ornament with wet eyes. He carefully took it from Tim, reaching up and placing it on the tree. Tim hesitantly reached out and touched the man’s arm, wanting to offer comfort but unsure of what to say. Dick wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. Tim consciously forced his tense muscles to relax.

 

“Last one.” Bruce had missed the exchange. He reached into the box, pulling out a bubble wrapped bundle. Tim watched him unwrap it to reveal a delicate angel tree topper. 

 

“That’s really pretty.” Tim commented. 

 

“It was my mother’s.” Bruce carefully wiped dust from the wings. “Well Tim, you’re the youngest. Will you do the honors?” He held it out.

 

Tim carefully took the angel. “Are you sure?”

 

“Of course I’m sure.” Bruce and Dick had to both hoist Tim up until he was standing on Bruce’s shoulders to reach the top of the tree. Just as he placed the angel, Alfred walked in holding a step ladder. The old butler took in the picture of Tim balanced precariously, sighed, and walked back out. The remaining trio broke out in laughter.

 

---

 

Later that evening Tim and Dick were in the media room working through season two of Clone Wars. Bruce had been called out for a Justice League emergency soon after they finished decorating, and Alfred was using the opportunity to go to bed at a reasonable time, so it was just the two of them. They were discussing their respective bat training experiences; Tim was confident enough in his knowledge of the series to know when to tell Dick they needed to stop talking and lock in. 

 

“It took me forever to get through Bruce’s grappling course.” Dick groaned. “Every time I made a mistake he would make me restart. I was Robin for two years before he finally let me use my own grappling gun. Until then he would just carry me around under his arm.”

 

Tim laughed at the mental image. He remembered seeing some of the former Robin’s more feral behavior on the news as a child. He could absolutely imagine an exasperated Bruce scruffing Dick like an angry kitten and toting him around Gotham. 

 

“Yeah, Batman’s training was brutal. I was honestly a bit relieved when he sent me to Europe.” 

 

“What was the story there, anyway?” Dick turned more fully towards him. “He wouldn’t tell me why he had sent you.” 

 

“Oh.” Tim fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, Bruce didn’t think I was learning combat skills fast enough, so he sent me to train with Rahul Lama.”

 

“Is that where you learned to use the bo staff?” Dick asked. 

 

“Well, not exactly?” Tim debated how much to tell Dick. “It was on that trip.”

 

“Okay?” Dick prodded. “Sounds like there’s a story there.” 

 

Tim chewed on his lip, debating internally. Part of him really wanted to tell Dick about his achievements in defeating King Snake and training with Lady Shiva, but he didn’t want Bruce to find out he had blatantly disobeyed orders. 

 

“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell Bruce?” Tim asked.

 

Dick laughed. “Oh, please. I love not telling Bruce things. Go on, lay it on me.” Dick had an excited spark in his eyes that eased Tim’s nerves. So, Tim dove into the tale, explaining to Dick how he left before he could finish his training with Rahul Lama to track down King Snake with Lady Shiva. Dick was a good listener. He gasped at the appropriate times, asked clarifying questions, and cheered along when Tim shared his victories. 

 

“Wow Tim, that is one hell of an adventure. But, how did you keep it from Bruce?” Dick asked eagerly.

 

“Oh.” Tim shrugged. “That part was easy.”

 

“Easy?” Dick sounded incredulous. “I can’t even hide what I ate for breakfast from Bruce, let alone a multi month adventure.” 

 

“You just have to tell him what he wants to hear.” Tim explained easily. “It’s like any other adult. They don’t want to look into things more than they have to, so as long as you don’t give them a reason, they’ll believe whatever you say.” 

 

Dick was wide eyed as he looked at Tim. It made his insides squirm in discomfort. “What?” 

 

“I think you’re underestimating how big of a deal it is that you can manage to lie to Batman, Timmers. The only other person I’ve seen do that successfully is Alfred.” Dick explained. 

 

Tim shrugged helplessly in response, unsure what to do with the comment. Lying to adults was part of life. It was a necessary skill to keep everyone appeased. Sure, Bruce was a good detective, but only if he thought there was something to investigate. Tim went to Europe to get trained, and he came back trained. Nothing else needed to be said. It helped that most adults didn’t pay enough attention to him to catch any holes in his lies. 

 

The two shifted their attention back to the show, watching Anakin and Ahsoka battle a group of droids. After several minutes Dick broke the silence. 

 

“Wait, one more question.” Tim stiffened as Dick paused the show. “Where did your parents think you were? You said you were gone for over a month.” 

 

Tim shrugged in response. “I told them I was at a science camp. They were in Brazil that summer, I think.” 

 

Dick’s brow furrowed, a frown forming on his lips. “All summer?” 

 

“Yeah, they were on a dig in Pedra Furada.” Tim felt a smile tugging at his lips as he remembered listening to his mom and dad talk about the rock art they had seen there. He loved when they talked to him about their work. They would light up when discussing their passion, becoming more animated and happy than he ever saw otherwise. He always prepared a list of questions so that he could keep those conversations going. 

 

“But, who was looking after you?” Dick questioned, still frowning. 

 

“Well, no one. I was in Europe.” Hadn’t Tim just explained this? Dick always seemed to get caught up in the details about his parents, and it was starting to grate. Tim had just wanted to tell him a fun story about training.

 

“I mean who did they think was looking after you?” Dick seemed agitated. It was making Tim’s skin feel all prickly, his shoulders raising up towards his ears. Tim couldn’t help glancing at the door, his body tensing to run even though he knew he was in no danger.

 

“I told them I was at summer camp.” Tim repeated, keeping his voice level. “So the camp counselors, I guess.” 

 

Dick still seemed upset, so Tim grabbed the remote and pressed play. “This scene is important later, you should pay attention.” 

 

Luckily, the distraction worked and Dick turned his attention back to the show. Tim wasn’t sure what he had said to upset the older boy, but he felt guilty for putting a dampener on what had been a great day so far. Maybe it would be best if he didn’t mention his parents around Dick anymore. It always seemed to put the man in a bad mood.

 

 Hopefully tomorrow things would be back to normal.

 

Notes:

Dick: Where do your parents think you are?
Tim: Why would my parents think about me?

More Christmas fluff (and angst) to come next week!

I have decided to split my original idea into two separate fics. So, this one will be around ten chapters followed by a sequel. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 6: Christmas Time!

Summary:

Tim celebrates Christmas Eve and Christmas with the Waynes. He gets an unexpected (and maybe, unwanted) Christmas gift.

Notes:

Thanks to Kaitlin for beta reading! Thanks to my friend Rosie for the photography rant! I have no idea what any of it means but it sure sounds nice lol. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!

A knock on the bedroom door woke Tim from a deep sleep. He had been having a dream about his mother…something about trying to tell her something, trying to catch up with her in a long hallway, but she was further away every time he blinked. The details of the dream faded rapidly as another knock sounded through the room.

 

“Come in.” Tim called, voice still scratchy from sleep. He sat up, rubbing his eyes as his door opened to reveal Dick. The older boy was already dressed for the day in a ridiculous reindeer themed sweater.

 

“Good morning!” Dick launched himself onto the bed, squishing Tim back into his pillow with an ‘oof.’ Tim poked Dick in the ribs, trying to push him off. .

 

“Get off! You’re squishing me!” 

 

“It’s Christmas Eve, Timmy!” Dick rolled off of the bed and sprung up to his feet, bouncing excitedly. “You have to get up!”

 

“Why?” Tim groaned. “It’s still early.” Tim was guessing based on the amount of light coming in through his windows. 

 

“Come on!” Dick pulled at his blankets when Tim tried to pull them back over his head. “We’re going sledding!” 

 

Tim groaned in response. “Too early.” 

 

Dick, being heartless, refused to let Tim go back to sleep, poking and prodding until Tim was up and being pushed into the bathroom with a warm change of clothes and instructions to be downstairs in ten minutes. By the time Tim had brushed his teeth and freshened up, he was much more awake and was starting to feel excited. He hadn’t been sledding in years; he vaguely recalled a nanny taking him once, which meant he couldn’t have been older than eight. 

 

Tim headed down to the kitchen wearing a warm, green sweater over a thermal shirt. Bruce was, as usual, drinking his coffee and reading on his phone while Dick tried to convince Alfred to let him have cereal for breakfast.

 

“Master Richard, cereal is not proper nutrition. If you’re going to be exerting yourself out in the cold, you need real food.” The butler’s tone was exasperated. Tim suspected this argument had been had many times.

 

“Cereal is real food!” Dick whined. Tim sat down at the table and Bruce wordlessly slid him a mug of coffee. Tim thanked the man quietly, sipping at the warm drink as Alfred proceeded to confiscate the box of Lucky Charms from Dick.

 

“Eggs and bacon will be ready in two minutes. Go sit down.” The butler ordered sternly. Dick pouted, but took his seat to Bruce’s right. 

 

As promised, breakfast was served soon after. Tim tucked in happily. Staying at Wayne Manor was making him spoiled. Despite Dick’s argument, his normal breakfast of cereal or nothing just wasn’t the same as a hot, homemade meal. He would miss Alfred’s cooking when he returned home. 

 

As they were eating, Bruce turned his attention to Dick. “Since you’re staying here, will you be coming to the New Years gala?” 

 

Dick groaned. “Ugh, you’re doing that again?”

 

“It’s the biggest fundraiser of the year for the Martha Wayne Foundation. Of course I am.” Bruce responded evenly. 

 

“My parents mentioned that.” Tim added, remembering his mom and dad discussing it last time they were home. “They were excited they got an invite. I don’t think they’re planning to go, though.”

 

“Well, Tim, you’re more than welcome to come along with Dick and I.” Bruce offered.

 

“Heck no. Tim and I are staying in and playing video games. No way are we going to get our cheeks pinched by Mrs. Carver again.” Dick crossed his arms. 

 

Tim looked between Dick and Bruce, nervous at Dick’s defiance. If Bruce told them to go, they couldn’t just stay home. His parents would have grounded him already for complaining like that. He wasn’t sure how Bruce would respond.

 

“Well, if that’s what you would rather do, it’s up to you.” Bruce agreed easily. “But I really could use some backup dealing with that crowd.” 

 

Tim was sure Dick would agree then, but the man just shook his head. “You’re on your own, B.”

 

Bruce sighed and stood from his chair. “Alright boys, help me load up the car and we can get going.” 

 

“You’re sledding too?” Tim asked in surprise. He hadn’t expected Bruce to want to do something so…juvenile. He couldn’t picture his father ever going near a sled.

 

“Well, I’ll be snowboarding.” Bruce responded. “But yes.” 

 

The trio made their way to the garage, loading up an assortment of different sleds and snowboards. When Tim asked why they were bringing so many, Dick responded that he liked to have options. Alfred brought out thermoses of hot chocolate as well as their winter gear. Soon, all three were bundled up and ready to go. 

 

Bruce drove them out to a hill on the outskirts of Bristol, far from any residences. When Tim stepped out of the car, he gasped. Fresh snow had fallen a couple of days before and it had remained untouched this far from town. The hill was covered in glittering white, with natural mounds and snow drifts forming sporadically. Near where they parked, a cluster of evergreen trees were capped with white powder, the sun shining through their branches in a way that tinted them gold. Tim fumbled to remove his gloves, pulling out his phone. He wished he had his Nikon with him, but his phone camera would have to do. 

 

Tim spent several moments adjusting the settings, shifting around until he found an angle he liked. He took a series of photos of the trees. Once he was done, he opened up his gallery to review them. 

 

“Those are good.” Bruce’s deep voice startled Tim. He turned to see both Dick and Bruce looking over his shoulders at the pictures he had taken. Tim flushed as Bruce’s words sunk in.

 

“Oh, uh, it could be better if I had my camera.” Tim had gone ahead and ordered himself one using his dad’s credit card. His parents found it was easier to let him get his own Christmas gift. “The dynamic range on this phone can't really capture the highlights. I'm trying to focus on the streams of light through the trees, but the phone keeps looking for a subject instead of capturing the light itself. The reflection of light on the snow just blurs together. With a properly set f-stop and shutter speed, I could show the sparkle of that reflection and the shadows of the treeline. My camera would have given me a more comprehensive tonal range and superior histogram fidelity…” Tim realized he was rambling and trailed off, embarrassment and regret sitting heavy and sour in his stomach. No one wants to hear your tangents, Timothy his dad’s voice echoed in his head.

 

“Do you enjoy photography, Tim?” Bruce asked. Tim nodded sheepishly. 

 

“A bit, yeah. My parents like to send me pictures from their trips, and when I was younger I wanted to have something to send back so I started taking pictures around Gotham. It’s not as interesting as theirs, of course.” Tim scrolled back in his gallery to a picture of his parents at the Tower of London. “They’re on their annual Christmas trip, and sent me this one yesterday. I’ll send the picture of the trees in my next email.”

 

“Wait.” Dick took the phone, squinting at the photo of his parents. “Annual Christmas trip? I thought you said your family doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Why did they go without you?”

 

“Dick.” Bruce’s voice had a warning tone to it that Tim didn’t understand.

 

“Well, it’s really more of an anniversary trip than anything.” Tim explained. At least, that’s what his parents said the first year they went when Tim asked to join them. Nevermind that they still called it a Christmas trip, and their anniversary was in November. “They’ve only been doing it for a few years.”

 

Bruce had a vaguely constipated look on his face, while Dick looked like someone had kicked a puppy. The look quickly morphed into one of anger. Tim winced internally as he realized what he had said. So much for not bringing up his parents anymore. 

 

“So, when you said your family doesn’t celebrate, you meant your parents celebrate while you get left behind?” Dick’s voice had a dangerous edge to it. 

 

Tim tried not to flinch at the harsh words. His parents weren’t leaving him behind, right? They just wanted some quality time without having to deal with a whiny teenager the whole trip. Tim should be happy to have parents who were so in love and liked to spend time with each other. Plenty of his friends had parents who fought all the time or were divorced.

 

“That’s enough, Dick.” Bruce set a hand on Dick’s shoulder.

 

Dick turned to glare at Bruce. For a moment, Tim feared they would start fighting again. Luckily, something in Dick’s face shifted and the man took a deep breath, relaxing his tense muscles. Tim’s eyes flicked nervously between the two. He regretted mentioning his parents at all. 

 

Dick turned back to Tim.  “I’m sorry, Tim. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure your parents will love the pictures.” 

 

Tim shifted, still feeling unsettled. “Uh, that’s okay.” It kind of wasn’t, but Tim wasn’t going to say that. 

 

Dick smiled down at him, although it looked slightly strained. “Let’s grab the sleds.” 

 

Tim gratefully followed Dick’s lead, happy to change the subject. Tim and Dick raced each other up the hill, with Dick easily overtaking the younger boy. 

 

For the next couple of hours, the three of them climbed the hill over and over, trying different and increasingly dangerous stunts each time. When Dick tried to convince Tim they should go down standing on their sleds, Bruce interrupted to show Tim how to snowboard instead. 

 

Bruce walked Tim through how to balance his weight and steer the board. It was similar enough to skateboarding that Tim felt pretty confident in his abilities. Bruce was also a much more patient teacher than he had been during Robin training. The first time, Bruce held his hands and they went down the hill at the same time. The action made Tim feel like a little kid, which caused a contradicting jumble of happiness and embarrassment to pool up inside of him. He viciously shoved the feelings into a box and focused on the task at hand. Once Bruce was sure Tim wouldn’t land on his face, he allowed Tim to go down alone. 

 

By the time they decided to call it a day, Tim was turning into an icicle. His cheeks were flushed from both the cold and the exertion. His muscles were pleasantly tired, and his chest felt lighter than it had in a long time. The trio packed away the winter gear and distributed the hot chocolate Alfred had sent with them before heading back to the manor. 

 

---

 

Dick knew he wasn’t doing a good job of hiding his irritation with Tim’s parents. Tim had tried to brush it off as no big deal, but how could he be okay with his parents leaving him behind for the holidays? And every year, from the sounds of it. Bruce had told him again to mind his own business, but he could tell his father had concerns as well. 

 

Dick regretted his words from earlier, though. Tim hadn’t deserved to have it laid out so harshly, regardless of the fact that what Dick said was true. So Dick tried his best to turn his mood around and make the rest of the day nice for the kid he was rapidly starting to see as his brother. 

 

After getting home and having lunch, Alfred had made a rare exception and allowed them to use his kitchen to bake cookies. Bruce was banned from helping beyond decorating. Tim was surprisingly competent in the kitchen, especially for a fourteen year old. He was no Alfred, but he clearly knew what he was doing as he mixed up the ingredients under the butler’s supervision. Dick was happy to simply follow orders from the two and tease Bruce as he watched from the sidelines. 

 

“I never understood the whole ‘leaving milk and cookies for Santa' thing.” Tim commented from where he was mixing different batches of colored icing. “Do kids expect him to eat and drink at every house he goes to? The man would get sick.”

 

“It’s magic, Timmy.” Dick laughed. “Little kids aren’t thinking about it that deeply.” 

 

“But what about Christmas presents? Like, don’t kids notice that the wrapping paper is the same as all their other presents? And what about when they get to school, and realize Santa gave their friend an ipad but they only got a stuffed animal?” 

 

“My parents always wrapped the gifts from Santa in different paper than the gifts from them.” Dick offered. “Maybe your parents didn’t think about it.” 

 

“We did the same for Master Bruce.” Alfred added.

 

“Oh, my parents never did Santa.” Tim said, way too casually. “Dad said he wasn’t going to give some mythical man credit for his hard work.” 

 

For the millionth time that day, Dick felt his irritation with Jack and Janet Drake flare up. They deprived little Tim of the magic of Santa just so they could get all the credit? Tim must have seen something on his face, because he quickly continued speaking.

 

“It was okay though. I think the idea of a strange man breaking into our house and leaving presents would have freaked me out when I was little.” 

 

Bruce let out a quiet grunt from his seat. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”

 

“Tell who?” Tim turned to Bruce, confusion clear on his face. 

 

“Santa.” Bruce responded bluntly, his face impassive. 

 

Dick fought to keep a smirk off of his face as Tim squinted suspiciously. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.” 

 

“Santa Claus is an official member of the Justice League.” Bruce said it casually, as if he was discussing the weather. 

 

“Ha, ha.” Tim rolled his eyes, turning back to the icing. Dick snorted at the very teenaged action. 

 

“He’s being serious, Timmy.” Dick said. “You can check the batcomputer.” 

 

Tim turned his suspicious glare on Dick. Dick reached out and ruffled his hair. “Come on, you’ve met Zatanna, worked with aliens, and regularly go toe to toe with a sewer monster. Santa is where you draw the line?”

 

“If Santa were real, people would know.” Tim protested. “Parents would notice gifts they didn’t buy appearing in their homes. Plus, not every house has a chimney. How would he get in?”

 

“Global memory alteration magic.” Bruce scowled a bit. “Even Zatanna can’t figure out exactly how he does it.” 

 

Tim still looked like someone who suspected they were being pranked. Bruce pulled out his tablet and typed on it for a moment before holding it out to Tim. Tim accepted it hesitantly, looking at the contents. Dick looked over his shoulder and saw the bat file on Kris Kringle open. 

 

“Holy shit.” Tim whispered. He looked from the tablet, to Bruce, then back to the tablet again, as if trying to calculate if Bruce could have fabricated the file in the past two minutes. “You’re serious?” 

 

Bruce just nodded, as if he wasn’t blowing the fourteen year old’s mind. Tim had a slightly dazed look as he handed the tablet back to Bruce. 

 

“That is so cool.” Tim whispered. Dick was happy to see the kid acting his age. 

 

The oven dinged, signalling that the first batch of cookies was done and ending the Santa conversation. 

 

Later that night, everyone was gathered in the media room watching It’s a Wonderful Life. Dick and Bruce watched it every year on Christmas Eve. Tim had never seen it before, but he appeared to be invested from his spot on the couch between Bruce and Dick. Alfred was sitting in an armchair by the fire, crocheting a scarf. 

 

Dick wiped his eyes as the end credits played. He heard a suspicious sniffle from Bruce’s direction as the man stood and turned the lights back on. 

 

“Alright boys, go ahead and open these and then we can get ready for patrol.” He reached under the couch, pulling out two slim boxes. He handed the blue one to Dick and the red one to Tim. 

 

Tim was clearly flustered as he accepted the package. His cheeks were burning red and he didn’t seem to know where to look. “Oh, uh, you really didn’t need to get me anything.”

 

Dick ruffled his hair. “There will be plenty more where that came from tomorrow, Timmy. Just open it.” 

 

Dick watched as Tim carefully peeled off the tape, taking time to gently unfold the wrapping paper without tearing it. He then took the lid off of the box to reveal a set of plaid flannel pajamas and a box of cookies. Dick was much quicker to tear into his own box, which contained the same thing. Every year, Bruce gifted him a new set of pajamas on Christmas Eve, as well as some sort of snack for the night. 

 

“These are great, Bruce. Thank you.” Tim refolded the pajamas, placing them back in the box.

 

“Yeah, thanks B!” Dick set his box down and walked over to Alfred’s chair, reaching behind it to grab two lumpy, messily wrapped presents. He handed one to Alfred and one to Bruce. 

 

Bruce and Alfred both had slight expressions of confusion on their faces, which Dick took great pleasure in. It wasn’t easy to surprise either man. He prompted them to open their gifts. Alfred opened his first, revealing a set of batman themed pajamas. The butler chuckled. “Thank you, lad.” 

 

A groan drew everyone’s attention to Bruce. He was holding a bright set of Green Lantern pajamas. “Really, Dick?”

 

“I saw them and knew they were perfect for you.” Dick grinned at his adoptive father. “Don’t you like them?”

 

Bruce let out an annoyed grunt in response, but Dick could see his lip twitching. He expected Bruce would be wearing the pajamas in the morning, regardless of his complaints. The man set down the pajamas and stood, stretching slightly. “Okay, let’s get going before Calendar Man can wreak too much havoc.” 

---

 

Dick was startled awake when his blankets were ripped off of him. He immediately rolled off of the bed, landing in a defensive position before his eyes were even open. He squinted at the room around him, eyes landing on an amused Tim Drake, complete with new pajamas and messy bed head as he held Dick’s comforter.

“Revenge for yesterday.” The boy sounded smug. Dick let out a groan, flopping back into his bed. Nightwing had been out late with Batman and Robin, stopping Calendar Man’s attempts at recreating How the Grinch Stole Christmas. They hadn’t gotten home until nearly three in the morning. 

 

Tim walked over, poking the back of Dick’s head repeatedly. “Oh come on, where’s all your holiday enthusiasm?” 

 

Dick waited until Tim went to poke him again and shot his hand out, catching Tim’s wrist. He yanked the boy down into the bed and immediately descended on him in a tickle attack. Tim let out a shriek of surprise, unwilling laughter spilling from his mouth. “Dick, stop!” He half screamed, cackling as Dick tickled his sides. 

 

“Oh come on, where’s your holiday enthusiasm?” Dick mocked, unrelenting. 

 

“Uncle!” Tim yelled, tapping his arm three times. Dick stopped the assault as Tim flopped back, gasping for breath. Dick grinned unrepentantly as Tim squinted his eyes, glaring at him for the betrayal. 

 

“You’re evil for that.” Tim huffed once he had caught his breath. 

 

“Perils of brotherhood.” Dick swung himself smoothly up from the bed. Tim let out a half cough, half squeak sound that had Dick turning around. Tim’s cheeks were red as he looked at Dick with wide eyes. 

 

“B-brotherhood?” The boy choked out. Dick realized that was the first time he had referred to Tim as his brother, at least out loud. He decided to double down.

 

“Well, yeah. You’re Robin, part of the team. That makes you family.” He explained easily. 

 

Tim seemed overwhelmed at the comment, mouth opening and closing a couple of times without any sound coming out. Dick decided to help the kid out.

 

“Come on, let’s go open presents.” Dick led the way out into the hall. Tim seemed to snap out of his shock.

 

“Uh, right. Just a minute.” The boy hurried back to his room, emerging a minute later with three wrapped gifts. Dick immediately tried to look closer to see what they were, but Tim turned away and rushed down the stairs. Dick followed along, waiting in the hall as he ducked into the family room to place the presents under the tree. Tim walked back out, cheeks slightly red. 

 

Alfred intercepted them, telling them in no uncertain terms that presents would have to wait until Bruce woke up and everyone had eaten breakfast. Dick tried to convince Tim to help him wake up Bruce, but Tim staunchly refused.

“Dude, no way am I waking a sleeping Batman. I like being alive.” Tim crossed his arms. 

 

“Aw, come on, Timmy. You know Bruce is really a big softie.” Dick cajoled. 

 

“I know no such thing. I’ll help Alfred with breakfast while you go risk your neck.” Tim headed into the kitchen, Dick hot on his heels.

 

“I have breakfast well in hand, Master Tim, but if you would like to set the table?” Alfred, for once, was out of his uniform and wearing the pajamas Dick had bought for him. It made for a funny picture paired with his white gloves and carefully gelled hair. 

 

Tim started setting the table as directed while Dick went to wake up Bruce. He returned a few minutes later with the grumpy man in tow, wearing the Green Lantern pajamas as predicted. Tim looked up when they walked in and pressed his lips tightly together, clearly trying not to laugh. Dick had no such restraint. He had already taken several photos which he sent straight to Barbara, knowing Bruce wouldn’t be able to delete them from her drive. 

 

Alfred laid out a breakfast of french toast, eggs, sausage, and hash browns. Everyone was fairly quiet as they tucked into the meal, still waking up from their long night. Dick finished his food quickly, excited for the day to come. Once everyone was done they helped Alfred clear the table and headed for the family room.

 

“Okay Timmy, I’m thinking once we are done with presents we can go out and have a snowball fight. You and me against Bruce. After lunch we can finish season three of Clone Wars. Then maybe tonight we pick some more movies? You can pick since Bruce and I chose last night. Or we can go learn some new stunts in the gym.” Dick listed off his plans for the day. He wanted to make sure Tim had the best day ever.

 

“Sounds great, Dick.” Tim smiled, looking the most carefree Dick had ever seen him.

 

“Do I get a say in this?” Bruce asked jokingly, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. 

 

“Nope!” Dick replied, making his way over to the tree. He rifled through the piles, looking for one present in particular. Finally he found it. 

 

“Ah hah!” Dick handed the gift, wrapped with paper covered in little trees, to Tim. “Here you go.”

 

Alfred had pulled out a small camera to take pictures as they opened their gifts.

 

Tim accepted the present, reading the tag aloud. “‘From Santa.’” He looked up. “I still don’t know if you’re messing with me.”

 

“Scouts honor.” Dick held up a hand. 

 

Bruce let out a huff. “You were never a boy scout, Dick.” 

 

“Fine then.” Dick rolled his eyes. “Robin’s honor.” 

 

“I think that’s even less convincing.” Tim said as he unwrapped the gift, pulling out a set of vinyl stickers for his skateboard. He squinted suspiciously at the present, before turning the look onto Dick, Bruce, and Alfred.

“How did you know I wanted these?” Tim questioned. 

 

“We didn’t. Santa did.” Bruce’s face was blank.

 

“Doesn’t Santa only deliver to kids?” Tim asked, looking at the present in confusion.

 

“Yes, he does.” Bruce walked over to the tree and grabbed another gift, handing it to Tim. “This one was all me.” 

 

Tim took the package from Bruce, biting his lip nervously. “You really didn’t need to get me anything, Bruce. Letting me stay here is enough.”

 

“Just shut up and open your presents, Tim.” Dick said, not unkindly. Tim nodded, unwrapping the gift. He let out a small gasp, pulling out a camera lens. 

 

“This one is supposed to have a better dynamic range for those nature shots.” Bruce explained softly. 

 

“This is…wow. Thank you, Bruce.” Tim carefully set the lens back in its box. “This is perfect.” 

 

“You’re welcome, Tim.” Bruce smiled warmly. 

 

“This is for you as well, Master Tim.” Alfred handed him a neatly wrapped package. Tim accepted, tearing back the paper and revealing a cozy crocheted scarf in red, green, and yellow. 

 

“Thank you, Alfred.” Tim put the scarf on. “It’s so soft.” 

 

“I’m glad you like it, lad.” The butler smiled.

 

“Mine next!” Dick jumped up and grabbed his gift for Tim. The box was about a meter long, wrapped in blue paper with a million bows on it. He handed it to Tim, bouncing on his heels in excitement. “Go on, open it!” 

 

Tim laughed at his enthusiasm, ripping off the paper to reveal a plain cardboard box. He opened the box and gasped. “No way.”

 

“What is it?” Bruce looked over curiously. 

 

Tim reached in, pulling out the lightsaber by the metal handle. It was a replica of Anakin Skywalker’s from Revenge of the Sith. Tim pressed the button and it lit up a bright, glowing blue complete with the signature ‘whooshing’ sound. 

 

“It’s classified as ‘combat ready’ so we can duel with it without having to worry about it breaking. It can also have another blade attached to be more similar to Maul’s.” Dick explained excitedly. He planned to get one for himself soon. 

 

“This is so cool!” Tim waved the lightsaber around a couple of times, his eyes sparkling as he smiled widely. 

 

Dick helped Tim figure out the different controls on the lightsaber for the next few minutes as Bruce and Alfred watched on. Alfred called out occasional warnings to be careful of the furniture when Tim or Dick swung it too widely. Finally, Tim set it aside. 

 

“Okay, I want to give you my gifts now if that’s alright.” He fidgeted, looking slightly unsure. 

 

Dick smiled encouragingly. “Absolutely, Tim. Whenever you’re ready.” 

 

Tim grabbed a gift bag from under the tree, handing it to Alfred. “I asked my mom to bring these back from New Delhi last month. I hope they’re alright.” 

 

Dick filed away the evidence of another trip by the Drakes to be examined later. Now wasn’t the time to get upset about Tim’s parents. Alfred reached into the bag, pulling out several assorted jars of spices. The butler’s eyes widened as he read the labels. 

 

“Thank you, Master Tim. These are wonderful. I can think of several recipes I have been wanting to try that I can use these for.” Alfred carefully tucked the jars away as Tim blushed at the praise. 

 

“Oh, um. You’re welcome.” Tim moved to grab a thin square package from under the tree. He hesitated for a moment, staring at it, before thrusting it forward towards Dick. “This is for you.” 

 

Dick took the package carefully, observing Tim’s anxious energy. He was prepared to love the present regardless of what it was, but the instant the paper fell away his eyes filled with tears. 

 

“This is…” Dick held up the picture frame, hands shaking slightly as he took in the sight of his parents and himself in their Flying Graysons costumes, smiling at the camera as a young Dick held a small boy in his lap. Dick had so few pictures of his parents. The ones he had were carefully maintained and treasured. 

 

“It’s from when Hayley’s Circus came to Gotham. I wanted to give you my copy sooner, but I couldn’t find the right time.” Tim shifted nervously.

 

Tim’s words sank in as Dick wiped his eyes. He turned to look at his brother. “This was you?” 

 

Tim just nodded, looking unsure in the face of Dick’s tears. Dick carefully set the frame down and stood up, pulling Tim into a hug. The boy stiffened in his hold, and Dick was about to step back and apologize before Tim relaxed completely, leaning into his touch. Dick squeezed him a bit tighter. 

 

“I remember you.” Dick said softly. “You were afraid of the clowns, so your parents brought you over for a picture.” 

 

Tim nodded. “It’s one of my earliest memories. I thought you were the coolest person ever. That night I saw you perform, and it was why I was able to figure out you were Robin all those years later.” 

 

Dick pulled back, frowning. “But that means you saw…”

 

Tim winced, nodding. Dick’s heart felt like it was cracking in two as the information sank in. Tim had been there on the worst night of his life, and Dick hadn’t even known it. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for the little boy. He pulled Tim back into the hug. 

 

Bruce had made his way over and picked up the picture frame. He examined it for a moment before setting it carefully on the mantle above the fire, with the rest of the family photos. Dick wiped his eyes, finally releasing Tim and giving him a watery smile. The boy returned the expression. 

 

The group sat down in silence for a few minutes, just allowing the weight of the moment to settle. Eventually Tim stood up, grabbing another present, this one thicker than Dick’s had been. “Um, Bruce, I wasn’t sure if -” Tim was cut off as his phone dinged several times with incoming messages. The boy frowned, pulling it out of his pocket. His eyes widened as messages continued coming in. 

 

“Shoot, I have to go.” Tim quickly set the present down, hurrying out of the room. Bruce and Dick followed.

 

“Tim?” Bruce called out, trying to catch up as Tim practically ran to the front door. “What’s wrong?”

 

“My parents are home.” Tim explained in a rush as he tugged on his boots, not bothering to tie them. Dick’s heart sank at the words. “I have to go.” 

 

“Okay, just slow down. I can give you a ride.” Bruce offered. 

 

“No, thanks, I really need to leave. I’m sorry. Have a Merry Christmas, guys.” Tim rushed out the door before any of them could respond, his presents abandoned back in the family room. Dick made to go after him, but Bruce stopped him with a hand to his chest. 

 

“This is ridiculous!” Dick turned angry eyes on Bruce. “They can’t just ditch him for the holidays then expect him to drop everything when he’s finally enjoying himself!”

 

“Dick, you need to calm down.” Bruce commanded. “This is a good thing. Tim gets to spend time with his family now.” 

 

Dick shook off his hand. “No, Bruce! What sort of family leaves their son behind while they go on a Christmas vacation? What sort of family travels for weeks at a time without their fourteen year old? Tim was having fun! He was finally opening up and relaxing!” 

 

“I know, Dick.” Bruce responded, still infuriatingly calm. “Them coming home doesn’t change the fact that you were able to give Tim a great Christmas.”

 

Dick sighed, feeling some of the anger drain from his chest, replaced by a bone deep tiredness. “I know.” He rubbed his face. “I just worry about him in that house. Something isn’t right, Bruce.” 

 

Bruce didn’t respond to the comment. Dick looked up to see his brow furrowed in thought. 

 

“What?” Dick asked.

 

“I think I’ll reach out to the Drakes and make sure they’re coming to the New Years gala.”

 

Notes:

Had to balance all the tooth rotting fluff with some angst at the end there.

I want some feedback from you all - I've noticed this fic isn't getting as much traction as previous ones I've shared. This is fine, since I'm still having fun writing and sharing it, but I was wondering if it's the longer chapter count that is turning people away? I know Jason Todd not being included is probably part of the issue lol. But going forward, would you all prefer I break the chapters up into shorter chunks? Let me know what you think!

Chapter 7: Adventures in Vopac

Summary:

Tim reunites with his parents, and it doesn't go well. The Drakes attend the Wayne New Year's Gala, but Tim isn't feeling well. Dick worries.

CONTENT WARNING: **SPOILERS AHEAD** This is where the misused medication tag comes in. Janet gives Tim medication when he is sick that isn't prescribed to him and causes a bad reaction. If you don't want to read this, stop at 'Janet’s expression softened. She walked over and hugged him. Tim didn’t hug back. Janet pulled back immediately, frowning. “You’re burning up, baby.”' I will post a summary of the rest of the chapter in the notes at the end.

Notes:

Thanks again to Kaitlin for beta reading, and Happy New Year to you all! At 5502 words, this is the longest chapter yet.

Tim couldn’t remember the last time he felt as happy as he did on Christmas morning with the Waynes. Dick had called Tim his family, and for those couple of hours it really felt true. But then his father’s texts arrived, and he remembered his real family.

 

Dad: Where are you?

Dad: Your mother and I are home. 

Dad: Get home, now.

 

Tim had felt his heart drop down to his feet as the messages poured in. He rushed out of Wayne Manor as quickly as he could, not bothering to grab his belongings. Underneath the panic that filled his system, Tim felt a deep sense of sadness about his time with the Waynes coming to an end. Bruce hadn’t even gotten to open his present. Part of Tim resented his parents for coming home when they did. Did that make him a bad son, he wondered? It felt like it did. Any other year he would have killed to have his parents home for Christmas. Why was he feeling this way now?

 

Tim knew he should be excited, and he was! It’s just…his parents being home meant Christmas was over. No more movie nights, or snow ball fights, or gathering around the tree. If they had come home it meant they had business to attend to, and Tim would be expected to be Timothy Drake, heir to Drake Industries. He would have to dress up in stiff, itchy clothes and shake hands with strangers and play a part that exhausted him. 

 

But that was okay. At least he would get to see his parents for Christmas. Maybe he could even convince them to watch a movie tonight, assuming they weren’t too upset about him not being home to greet them. 

 

Tim pondered all of this as he jogged up to the front door of his home. He paused on the threshold, taking a moment to catch his breath. The cold air scratched at his throat. He regretted not changing out of his pajamas; he knew his mother didn’t like when he came downstairs improperly dressed, let alone ran through Bristol. But all he could think of in the moment was getting home as quickly as possible to minimize any damage. 

 

Taking a deep breath, Tim pushed open the front door and stepped inside. His parents' suitcases were sitting at the bottom of the stairs, and he could hear raised voices from the living room. Tim took off his boots, placed them on the shoe rack and made his way into the room. He entered to see his mother sitting in an armchair, ice pack over her eyes. She was having one of her headaches. That did not improve Tim’s chances of the conversation going well. His father stood near the fireplace holding a glass of whiskey. Jack looked up when he entered, his mouth screwing into a frown.

 

“Where are you coming from, looking like that?” The man asked. His mother lifted her head and looked in his direction, the ice pack sliding down into her lap. 

 

“I was at the Waynes.” Tim answered honestly, knowing there was no point in lying. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were home.” 

 

Janet Drake let out a tired sigh, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. Tim’s gut twisted in guilt. They must have been exhausted from travelling.

 

“Tim, baby, it’s Christmas.” Janet gave him a disappointed look. “You can’t just impose on their family like that. It's poor manners.” 

 

Tim squirmed. He hated when his mom looked at him like that. “They invited me.” He explained weakly. 

 

Jack let out a sharp laugh, causing Tim to jump. “Who would want to invite you?” He spat out the word you as if it was something dirty. 

 

“Jack.” Janet gave her husband an admonishing look. 

 

“Oh come on Janet, Timothy knows I’m just joking.” Jack made his way over to where Tim was still hovering in the doorway. He wrapped his arm around Tim’s shoulder, steering him roughly towards the couch. Tim let himself be tugged along, shoulders raised to his ears.

 

“Of course they would want him over. He’s such a good kid, after all! Being home to greet his parents when they travelled hours to see him on Christmas, helping them with their suitcases, taking care of the house.” Jack looked around at the dusty room, pushing Tim’s shoulder so he fell into a seat on the cloth covered couch. “Oh, wait! He didn’t do any of that.” 

 

Tim felt his frustration growing. “I told you, I didn’t know you would be home!” 

 

“Do not raise your voice at your father, Timothy!” Janet snapped. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes again. “I don’t get it. Every year you have asked us to be home for Christmas. Now we are, and this is how you behave? Why did you ask if you were just going to go spend the day with the neighbors?”

 

“Maybe this is our fault, Janet.” Jack glared at Tim. “We let him convince us to leave him home alone so he could quit boarding school. Maybe it’s time we reevaluate.”

 

“No!” Tim’s voice came out louder than he intended. “No, you don’t need to do that. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” If he was sent to boarding school, he could kiss Robin and the Waynes goodbye. He couldn’t let that happen.

 

Janet gave him a long, searching look. The frustration Tim had been feeling disappeared under his mother’s tired gaze, replaced by rolling guilt. His parents gave him so much freedom, more than any other kid his age. All they asked in return is that he take care of the house and stay out of trouble. 

 

“I don’t think that’s necessary yet, Jack.” She finally said. “Let’s see how he does over the rest of the break, and then we can decide if he is mature enough to stay home.”

 

“Yes, I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.” Tim jumped at the opportunity to prove himself. 

 

Janet’s gaze softened. “What are we going to do with you, Tim?” She walked over, pulling him into a hug. Tim hugged back tightly. “You have to try harder, alright? You’re not a little kid anymore.”

 

“I know, mom. I’m sorry.” 

 

Jack scoffed. “You’re coddling the boy. He’s never going to learn if you keep this up.” 

 

Janet released Tim, turning to Jack with a raised eyebrow. Tim felt himself tense back up. 

 

“That’s enough, Jack.” Janet’s tone was cool. 

 

“No, he is fourteen years old! He needs to learn some manners, and that isn’t going to happen with you babying him all the time!” His dad’s face was turning red, a vein in his forehead standing out.

 

Janet kept her icy gaze on Jack. “Take our suitcases upstairs, Timothy. Your father and I need to talk.” 

 

Tim knew to take the out given to him, but he couldn’t help hesitating for a moment. His parents could be…unpredictable, when they were angry. His father’s temper burned bright and hot, all shouted words and broken belongings. His mother’s temper was colder, more calculated. She knew how to tear someone apart with just a few words. Tim didn’t want either of them to get hurt when he was the reason they were fighting in the first place.

 

“Timothy.” His mother said again, still not looking at him. “Do not make me repeat myself.” 

 

At those words Tim scrambled out of the living room, heading for the staircase. He grabbed the suitcases and started up the stairs right as the yelling started. 

 

There was no movie that night.

 

---

 

Tim woke up on New Year's Eve feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. 

 

The past week had been extremely tense. His parents spent all of Christmas Day giving each other the silent treatment, as was their custom following an argument. Tim had tiptoed around to passive aggressive remarks such as “Timothy, please tell your father to stop chewing so loudly” and “Timothy, tell your mother this chicken is overcooked.” They started speaking again the next morning, but were short with both him and each other. Jack had been assigning Tim non stop chores around the house, such as dusting the artifact collection, cleaning the grout in the kitchen, and shoveling the driveway. When Tim dared to ask why Jack was having him shovel when they paid a company to come remove the snow, his father had threatened to ground him for the rest of break. Janet had watched that argument with a look of exhaustion that motivated Tim to be quiet more than his dad’s threats ever would.

 

Six days into his parents being home and Tim’s nerves were so frayed he felt like he was going to combust. He had taken to spending most of the day hiding in his bedroom, only coming out to eat and finish his chores. He desperately wanted to go out on patrol, but he couldn’t risk it with his parents home. So he spent his nights in bed, vibrating with pent up energy and unable to sleep. What little sleep he did get was plagued by stressful dreams of Bruce taking away the Robin suit as Dick looked on sadly, telling Tim he wasn’t mature enough for the role.

 

Tim had messaged the Wayne’s that first day and asked them not to contact him unless there was an emergency. Despite this, Dick had been texting him daily, asking how he was and if he wanted to hang out. Tim had politely declined each time, a lump forming in his throat with each rejection. As tense as things were, Tim still wanted to spend what time he could in the same space as his parents. Bruce had sent a single message asking if he would be patrolling, and didn’t respond when Tim said he wouldn’t.

 

Last night things had shifted. Tim’s mom had called him down for dinner, and Tim had entered the dining room to see his parents chatting happily and sharing a bottle of wine. 

 

“Tim, come sit down.” Janet smiled warmly. Tim felt his tense shoulders loosen a bit at the expression. He kept a careful eye on his father, but the man seemed calm. 

 

Tim took his seat across from his mother. A plate of her homemade spaghetti was set out on the table, which struck Tim as strange. His mother hated cooking. Spaghetti was one of the only meals she could make successfully. Usually while home they would just order from various restaurants in town. 

 

“You guys seem like you’re in a good mood.” Tim commented, testing the waters. 

 

“Well, your father was just telling me that Bruce Wayne personally reached out to ask us to attend his New Years gala. We were already invited, of course, but I suspect he wants to secure a deal with Drake Industries.” Janet took a bite of her pasta.

 

“Looks like you finally did something right, sport.” Jack reached out, ruffling Tim’s hair. Tim’s cheeks burned hot. “He told us to bring you along as well.” 

 

“Oh, that’s great!” Tim was fairly sure Bruce had no interest in a business deal with his parents, but he wasn’t going to mention it. 

 

“Yes, well, your father and I were talking. Seeing as you are stepping up and networking for the company, we thought it was time to reward you.” Janet looked at Jack, nodding at him to take the lead.

 

“We want you to come with us to Egypt in the New Year.” Jack clapped a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

 

Tim’s eyes widened. His parents never brought him on their trips, stating that they couldn’t be distracted from their work. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Wait, are you serious?”

 

“Of course we are.” Janet rolled her eyes, smiling fondly. “Now Tim, we expect you to be on your best behavior if you come along. Your father and I have several business opportunities we are exploring that could create a lot of jobs here in Gotham, so this trip is very important. Do you think you can handle it?”

 

Tim nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”

 

“Good boy.” Janet reached out and squeezed his hand. “Pack your suitcase for a week. We will be back in time for the semester to start.” 

 

Tim went to bed that night giddy with excitement. His parents finally saw that he was mature enough to help them with the business. They didn’t have to leave him behind anymore.

 

Realistically, Tim knew he couldn’t travel with them all the time. He had school, and his duties as Robin. But even if it was just every once in a while, getting to be with his parents was a dream come true. Tim drifted off that night dreaming of pyramids.

 

And then he woke up sick as a dog. 

 

At first it was just a headache and a tickle in his throat, but by lunch time Tim felt properly ill. He stayed in his room all morning, the thought of breakfast making him queasy. Part of him thought he should tell his parents he was sick, but he didn’t want them to think he couldn’t handle a little cold. Not when they were finally trusting him to be mature. 

 

The fever set in while Tim was getting ready for the gala that evening. His hands and feet were clammy, and he couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering as he dressed in the new suit his parents had purchased for the night. He wished he could wear his warm, puffy winter coat, but he knew his mom would insist on his navy pea coat that was more style than function. 

 

A few minutes before they were set to leave, Tim made his way downstairs, feeling miserable. His mother was already waiting in the front entryway, clicking emerald earrings into place which matched her long, green gown. She looked up as she heard Tim approaching and her painted lips twisted into a frown. 

 

“Timothy, you look awful.” She walked over, holding a hand to his forehead. Tim leaned into the cool touch. 

 

“I think I have a cold.” Tim’s voice came out slightly nasal.

 

Janet wrinkled her nose, pulling her hand away. “Go upstairs and grab some concealer from my makeup bag. No one wants to see eye bags like those. And splash some water on your face. You’re all sweaty.” 

 

Tim turned to look at the long staircase he had just descended, his stomach dropping. He did not want to make that climb right now. “Do I have to?”

 

“Timothy.” Janet snapped, tone cold. That was all she had to say. Tim knew how stressed these events made her. She wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect today.

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Tim dragged himself upstairs and to his parents bathroom, passing his father on the way. He splashed his face with cool water, which felt amazing on his burning cheeks. Then he grabbed his mother’s concealer and applied it carefully. By the time he was done, Tim looked about twenty-five percent less like he was a dead man walking. 

 

When Tim returned downstairs his parents were already outside in the car. Tim hurried out and climbed into the backseat with his mother and father as the chauffeur pulled out of their long driveway.

 

“Here, Timothy, take these.” His mother held out two white pills in the palm of her hand. 

 

“What are they?” Tim took them from her, accepting a water bottle from his father. 

 

“Tylenol with codeine. It will help bring that fever down.” Janet explained. 

 

Tim had never taken codeine before, but he figured anything was better than his current pounding head. He took the two pills gratefully. 

 

Tim’s father squeezed his shoulder as they pulled up outside of Wayne Manor. “Best behavior, alright son? None of that mumbling or looking at your shoes. You’re a Drake, you need to act like it.” 

 

“Yes, sir.” Tim responded, mentally preparing himself for the night ahead. Tim climbed out of the car, followed by his mother and father. The gala was already in full swing, with several people spreading out along the gardens despite the cold weather. Tim’s mother always insisted on being fashionably late.

 

Tim and his parents made their way inside to the ballroom in the public wing of Wayne Manor. Tim began scanning the room for their hosts. He didn’t have to wait long; it seemed Bruce and Dick were waiting for him as well. The two men made their way over.

 

“Jack, Janet, so good to see you!” Bruce smiled widely, shaking Jack’s hand. 

 

“Bruce, thank you for the invitation.” Tim’s dad had a smile that was just as fake as Bruce’s. 

 

“How was the rest of Christmas, Tim?” Dick asked, smiling at him. The kind expression made his heart squeeze. Or maybe that was the nausea.

 

“Oh, yes. I’m so sorry about that.” Janet looked embarrassed as she placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, pulling him back to her side. Tim felt the room lurch a bit as he moved. “Timothy should have never intruded on your family that day. Timothy, apologize to the Waynes.” 

 

Tim looked down at his shoes, cheeks burning. His mother cleared her throat at the gesture and he raised his chin quickly, mentally scolding himself. His dad had just told him not to do that. “I’m sorry for intruding, Mr. Wayne.”

 

Dick was openly frowning at this point, while Bruce had an expression of confusion on his face. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding, Janet. We invited Tim to spend his break with us.” 

 

Tim wasn’t sure if he should be hurt or vindicated by the look of surprise on his mother’s face. “Really? Whatever for?”

 

Dick finally spoke up. “Uh, so he wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone?”  

 

Jack stepped forward now. “He didn’t spend Christmas alone. He spent it with his family.” His voice was even, but Tim could hear the annoyance underneath. 

 

“Right.” Dick turned his attention back to Tim. “Well, maybe you can come over again some time over break. We still need to finish the Clone Wars.” 

 

Tim opened his mouth to respond, but Jack beat him to it. “That won’t be possible. Timothy is coming with us to a conference in Egypt for the rest of break.” 

 

“Really?” Bruce’s eyebrows raised. “Tim didn’t mention that.” 

 

“Why would he have?” Jack’s tone was becoming snappish. Janet gave him a hard look, before smiling pleasantly at Bruce and Dick. 

 

“We really shouldn’t keep you from your other guests, Bruce. Thank you again for the invitation.” Janet took Jack’s arm, leading him away. Tim hovered for a moment.

 

“Uh, sorry about them.” He looked down at his feet before remembering his father’s words and raising his chin. “They’re still pretty tired from their trip.” 

 

“You don’t need to apologize, Tim.” Bruce responded. “How are you, though? You look a bit pale.” 

 

“I’m fine.” Tim responded automatically. “It’s been a busy few days.” 

 

“Are you really going to Egypt?” Dick asked, concern clear in his eyes. 

 

Tim nodded, trying to muster up last night's enthusiasm. His smile felt more like a grimace, but his eyelids felt like they weighed a million pounds and it was the best he could do. “Yeah, sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. They just told me last night.”

 

“Well, it sounds like an exciting opportunity.” Bruce stated amiably. 

 

“It is. I’ve always wanted to go.” That, at least, was true. His parents weren’t Egyptologists, but as archeologists they had visited many times and Tim always enjoyed their stories. 

 

“Just be careful, okay?” Dick placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you need anything, call me. I have fast friends. I can be there in ten minutes.” 

 

A ridiculous image of the Flash carrying Dick princess style all the way to Egypt popped into Tim’s head, causing him to snort out a laugh. The laugh quickly transformed into a cough. It took Tim a minute to catch his breath, and when he did Bruce and Dick were staring at him in concern. 

 

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat a couple of times, wincing as it felt like swallowing shards of glass. 

 

“That’s a nasty cough. Are you sure you’re alright?” Bruce asked. Tim hadn’t seen that look on Bruce’s face since Dick was almost shot on patrol last month.

 

“I’m okay, just allergies.” Tim spotted his mother frowning at him from across the ballroom, tilting her head to signal him over. “Um, I need to catch up with my parents. I’ll see you around.” He hurried away before either man could respond. 

 

Tim reached his parents, who had just walked away from a conversation with one of the DI board members. Janet took his arm, pulling him aside. “What did I say about intruding on the Waynes?”

 

Tim held in a groan. He was not in the mood for a lecture. “They were just asking about Egypt.” He couldn’t hold back the slight petulance in his tone. 

 

“They were being polite, Timothy. That doesn’t mean they want you bothering them and wasting their time.” Janet’s tone was exasperated. 

 

Tim’s head was pounding, and he just wanted to go to sleep. “Mom, can we not do this?” 

 

“Excuse me?” Janet sounded incredulous. 

 

“You do not speak to us that way, Timothy.” Jack grabbed his arm roughly, causing Tim to stumble. 

 

“Jack, don’t make a scene.” Janet hissed, glancing around. Luckily no one seemed to be looking in their direction. Tim really didn’t want an audience for this. 

 

Jack squeezed his arm, causing Tim to wince. “We will be talking about this when we get home.” He released Tim, turning around. “I’m going to get a drink.”

 

Janet watched him go with a sigh. She turned back to Tim. He felt himself shrink under her disappointed gaze. “You’ve upset your father. Go sit down at one of the tables until we are ready to leave. Clearly you aren’t prepared to be in polite company tonight.” 

 

Normally Tim would protest, but he felt dead on his feet. The tylenol his mother gave him seemed to have lowered his temperature, but did nothing for his exhaustion. Sitting down sounded wonderful. “Yes, ma’am.” 

 

With one last stern look, Janet turned and went to find Jack. 

 

Tim made his way to the men’s restroom, struggling not to stumble along the way. Once he confirmed that the bathroom was empty he locked the door, plopping down into a seated position right there on the floor. He pressed his head down into his knees.

 

Tim’s mind felt like it was full of fog, thoughts slipping by before he could really process them. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour. He knew he should get up before his parents noticed his absence, but he couldn’t find the energy. 

 

A knock on the door jolted Tim out of his daze. He let out a quiet groan and pushed himself to his feet. “Just a minute.” He called, making his way over to the sink. 

 

The sight that greeted him in the mirror was not a pretty one. The concealer his mother made him wear did very little to hide his eye bags. His skin was even paler than normal, besides two bright pink spots on his cheeks and a red mark on his forehead from his knee. Tim splashed some water on his face, even though he knew it would make little difference. The cold liquid did at least serve to wake him up a bit.

 

After smoothing out his suit and making sure his hair was still gelled back, Tim walked over and opened the door to reveal Dick. The man had his hand raised as if he was about to knock again.

 

“Hey, Timmy, I was just coming to check on you.” Dick lowered his hand, looking Tim over with a frown. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m a bit sick.” Tim didn’t have the energy to lie, especially not convincingly enough to fool Dick. 

 

Dick tutted. “Yeah, I can see that. Why don’t you go lay down for a bit? Your bed is still made up.” 

 

God, that sounded tempting. Tim wanted nothing more than to go sleep for twelve hours in the soft, squishy guest room bed. Then his mother’s words about intruding repeated in his mind.

 

“No, I’m okay.” Tim mustered up a smile. “My parents are going to want to leave soon, anyways. Our flight leaves early.” 

 

“Right, your flight.” Dick nodded, giving Tim a strained smile of his own. Tim wasn’t sure why the man was upset, and he didn’t really care to find out. “I meant what I said, kiddo. Call me if you need anything.”

 

“I will.” He wouldn’t. “I should get back before my parents miss me.”

 

“Sure.” Dick agreed. “Let’s go.” The two walked together back to the ballroom. Dick was immediately pulled into a conversation with a middle aged woman who Tim didn’t recognize. Tim took the chance to slip away to a corner table that was partially hidden behind an ornamental statue. He practically collapsed into his seat, drained from the short walk from the bathroom. 

 

Despite his words to Dick, it wasn’t until well after midnight that Tim’s parents came to fetch him to leave. His father was stumbling slightly and slurring his words, but he was smiling widely so Tim hoped it was a happy drunk kind of night. 

 

The ride home was a haze. Tim’s parents went straight to bed, evidently forgetting about their promise to lecture him. Tim was grateful as he fell into his bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

 

---

 

Tim felt like he had only just fallen asleep when his alarm went off. He reached over blindly, swiping the snooze button and pulling his comforter tightly around him. His room was freezing. 

 

Tim hit the snooze button two more times before finally forcing himself to get up. He had a flight to catch. Tim wrinkled his nose as he realized he was still wearing his suit. He hadn’t even taken off the jacket. The whole thing was wrinkled and drenched in sweat. 

 

Tim stumbled to the bathroom and completed his morning routine in a daze. He didn’t have time to shower, but he was pretty sure the first class lounge had one he could use. Tim dragged himself downstairs, having already brought his suitcase down the day before. 

 

Janet and Jack were already outside, waiting as the chauffeur loaded up their luggage. Janet turned around when Tim walked out. 

 

“Tim, what are you doing up? It's six in the morning.” Janet frowned at him.

 

Tim furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “The flight.” His voice was hoarse, and speaking made his throat clench painfully. He pushed through it. “We’re going to the airport. Right?”

 

Understanding dawned on Janet’s face, followed by regret. “Oh dear, I forgot to tell you. Your father and I were invited to join in on a dig at the Karnak Temple complex. We had to extend the trip for an extra three weeks.” 

 

“What?” Tim’s lagging brain struggled to process her words.

 

“We won’t be back in time for school, Tim. You understand, don’t you? This is a wonderful opportunity for us.” Janet looked at him expectantly. 

 

They were leaving him behind. Again. They finally said he could go with them, and they were leaving him behind. To his horror, Tim felt hot tears fill his eyes. 

 

Janet’s expression softened. She walked over and hugged him. Tim didn’t hug back. Janet pulled back immediately, frowning. “You’re burning up, baby.” She felt his forehead. “See, it’s for the best that you don’t come along. You need rest.”

 

“Janet, we need to go or we’re going to miss the flight.” Jack called, already in the car. Janet waved him off.

 

“Here.” She dug around in her purse, pulling out an orange bottle and handing it to Tim. “Take these every four hours. There should be some chicken soup in the pantry.”

 

“Mom, can’t you stay?” Tim’s voice cracked embarrassingly. It had been years since he had bothered asking his parents to stay home, but the disappointment paired with the fever had his emotions boiling right under the surface. 

 

“You know I can’t, honey. This conference is really important. Why don’t you go back to bed, and I’ll call you once we land.” She smoothed back his hair.

 

“Janet!” Jack called again, tone impatient. 

 

Janet huffed. “I have to go. I love you, Timothy.” Janet squeezed his hand and went to the car, leaving Tim standing on the doorstep. His mother waved from the window as they drove off. 

 

Tim stood there for several minutes, fighting back tears. Only once he started shivering again did he move back inside. Tim glanced down at the bottle his mother had given him. It read 'Vopac,' prescribed in his father’s name. Remembering how it had helped his fever the night before, Tim took two and made his way back to bed. 

 

---

 

When Tim woke up again, the sun was already low in the sky. His head was pounding and his throat felt like it was on fire. His need for water and desire to go back to sleep warred in his mind. Eventually, the pain in his throat won out and he dragged himself up and to the bathroom. No way was he going all the way downstairs to the kitchen.

 

The room around him was spinning like a tunnel in a fun house. Tim had to keep a hand on the wall to maintain his balance. Once in the bathroom, he turned on the sink and stuck his head under, taking a big gulp of water. He immediately regretted the action as intense pain shot through his throat. Abandoning the water as a bad idea, he made his way back to his bedroom. He forced himself to grab the thermometer from his first aid kit before falling back into bed.

 

Tim stuck the thermometer under his tongue and waited. He nearly fell asleep in the minute it took to start beeping. He squinted through blurry eyes at the temperature; 102.3. He was pretty sure it wasn’t dangerous until it got over 104. Still, he grabbed the pill bottle and took two more as a precaution. He fell back asleep quickly.

 

When Tim woke up for the third time, he could tell something was wrong. He was drenched in sweat and breathing rapidly. The pain in his throat was worse than ever. It felt like he couldn’t get a deep enough breath. 

 

Tim rolled out of bed, immediately falling to the floor as the room spun around him. He was probably dehydrated. Right, his mom had said something about soup. You were supposed to have a lot of liquids when you were sick, weren’t you? And soup wouldn’t hurt his throat as badly as the water did. 

 

Tim rose back up on shaky legs, leaning heavily against the wall as he made his way into the hallway. What was he doing up, again? Oh, soup. Tim shuffled along, absently noting how dark it had become outside. He carefully descended the stairs, clutching the railing tightly. He just needed soup, and then he would be better. 

 

It felt like it took hours to reach the kitchen, but he made it. The pantry was fairly sparse, so it didn’t take Tim long to find the can of soup. He emptied the can into a pot and set it on the burner before plopping down on the kitchen floor. 

 

Tim must have dozed off again. A ding from his phone startled him awake. He pulled it out of his pocket, hissing in pain as the bright light hit his eyes. He saw a notification from Dick. 

 

Dick: How was the flight?

 

What flight? Tim’s foggy brain couldn’t make sense of the message. His chest felt increasingly tight, and he was exhausted. The kitchen tile felt cool beneath his cheek. 

 

Why was he on the kitchen floor, anyway? Tim wanted his bed. He forced himself back up off the floor. Tim’s breath was coming in short wheezes now. Tim wasn’t sure how he made it back up the stairs. He had to practically crawl. Once he was upstairs he only managed to make it to the doorway of his room before his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. He groaned as black spots danced in his vision. Oh well, the floor was comfy enough. 

 

A small voice in his head whispered that he shouldn’t fall asleep. But his body seemed to be deciding for him as his vision blurred in and out.

 

I meant what I said, kiddo. Call me if you need anything. The words played through Tim’s mind on loop. He fumbled for his phone, unlocking it to see the thread with Dick still open. Tim typed out a short message before allowing the darkness to take him. 

Notes:

Tim, as the dog in a burning house meme: This is fine

Thanks for reading! Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger.

Summary: Janet gives Tim a bottle of his dad's Vopac, which is Tylenol with Codeine. Tim goes back to bed and gets significantly sicker over the next twenty four hours. He tries to make soup, forgets he is making soup, and passes out on his bedroom floor. In his last moments of consciousness he sends Dick a text.

Chapter 8: Steady Beat

Summary:

Dick and Bruce race to help their baby bird.

Notes:

Thank you, Kaitlin, for beta reading. I hope you all enjoy! I decided to post a day early. This chapter is around 5000 words.

Enjoy the rare Bruce POV!

Content warning: Discussions of Tim's misuse of prescription drugs. It is only a few scattered sentences, so there is no good way to skip it.

Tonight was Nightwing’s last patrol before heading back to Bludhaven tomorrow. His visit home had gone surprisingly well, with minimal arguments with Bruce. Still, with Tim no longer present to act as a buffer he didn’t want to push his luck, so he was ending his visit early. 

 

Dick arrived back at the cave before Batman did. He headed straight to the showers to rinse off and change into more comfortable clothes. Once that was done, he pulled out his phone and sent Tim a text. It should be early morning in Egypt, so the boy might be awake. The message immediately showed as being read, but no response came. Weird. Maybe Tim was busy? 

 

Dick tried not to worry about it too much, but he couldn’t help it. Tim hadn’t looked good at the gala. He had been pale and shaky, and seemed nervous when he spoke to them. Dick had once again seen Jack and Janet speaking angrily at him, but the conversation had ended before Dick had a chance to intervene. After checking on Tim in the bathroom he didn’t see the boy for the rest of the night. 

 

The batmobile pulled into the cave as Dick was working on his report for the night. Dick glanced over his shoulder to see Batman making his way over. The two had patrolled independently so that they could cover more ground, since no big players were currently out of Arkham. 

 

“Any issues tonight?” Bruce still wore the cowl, the white lenses boring into Dick.

 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” It had mostly been petty crimes that night. Dick hadn’t even gotten to fight. His presence alone had been enough to stop most muggers and drug dealers. 

 

“Good.” Bruce finally removed his cowl, showing the man underneath. Sometimes, Dick felt like this was the most real version of his father. The version he only saw in the cave. Both Batman and Bruce Wayne were masks he wore. Down here, he was a perfect blend of the two. 

 

Bruce looked like he was gearing up to say something. Dick felt his shoulders tense slightly. Please, don’t let it be an argument, he thought desperately. Just as Bruce opened his mouth Dick’s phone beeped, giving him a much needed out. He snatched it up gratefully, unlocking the screen to see two words from Tim. The message made his heart drop. 

 

Timbird: need help

 

Dick immediately pressed the call button, holding the phone to his ear. It rang several times, anticipation building in Dick’s gut with each second that passed, before going to voicemail. Dick cursed and tried again with the same result.

 

“I need to call Wally.” Nightwing ran towards the changing rooms to grab his uniform. “Track Tim’s phone. Something’s wrong, and we need to be able to find him quickly.”

 

“What?” Batman was back in an instant, all business. “Nightwing, report.”

 

“He sent a text that he needs help, and now he isn’t answering.” Dick picked up his uniform from where he had left it on the floor. He absently noted that his hands were shaking.

 

Batman immediately sat at the batcomputer, pulling up Tim’s location. If Tim knew how many trackers Bruce and Dick had on him, he would likely be livid, but neither man was willing to risk a repeat of Jason. 

 

Dick heard Bruce let out a confused noise. He turned to the man. “What is it?”

 

“This says Tim is in his house.” Bruce replied. 

 

“What?” Dick hurried over and looked over his shoulder. “He’s supposed to be in Egypt.” 

 

Bruce pulled up the other trackers, all of which were showing the same location.

 

That didn’t make any sense. Dick tried calling Tim a third time, still with no answer. 

 

“We need to go over there.” Dick’s tone was grim. 

 

Bruce nodded in agreement. “We’ll have to go as civilians. We can’t risk Batman and Nightwing being seen at Tim Drake’s house.” 

 

Dick wanted to argue that they didn’t have time, but he knew Bruce was right. Bruce hurried to change while Dick rushed upstairs and to the garage. He grabbed the first car he saw and hopped into the driver's seat. He was about ready to leave without Bruce when the man ran out and climbed in. The fact that he didn’t object to Dick driving betrayed how worried he was. 

 

It only took two minutes for them to arrive at Drake Manor. The house was dark, with no indication that anyone was home. Dick, heart pounding, tried the handle and found that the front door was locked. He didn’t bother with his lock pick, simply kicked the door next to the handle so it swung open. The smell of burning immediately assaulted his nose. 

 

“Tim?!” Dick yelled, rushing inside with Bruce close behind. No answer came. 

 

“I’ll check down here, you check upstairs.” Bruce made his way towards the kitchen, which seemed to be the source of the smell. Dick rushed upstairs towards Tim’s room. As he turned into the hallway, he saw a foot sticking out of the open doorway. 

 

“Tim!” Dick rushed over, dropping to his knees beside the boy. Tim was laying face down on the carpet, his breath coming in short, rapid pants. Dick rolled him over, feeling the heat radiating off of him. 

 

“Bruce!” He yelled desperately, checking Tim’s pulse. It was too fast. 

 

“Dad! Get up here!” Dick couldn’t hold back the fear in his shaking voice.

 

Bruce thundered up the stairs, stopping when he saw the two boys. “Is he breathing?” His voice was clinical, detached. He was once again slipping into Batman, as he always did when scared.

 

“Yes, but it’s shallow. He was sick at the gala.” Dick should have pushed harder to make sure Tim was okay that night. 

 

Bruce scooped Tim up, the boy remaining limp in his arms. “We need to get him back to the cave.” 

 

Dick rose to his feet, knocking into the nightstand behind him. An orange pill bottle rattled and fell onto the floor. Dick stooped to pick it up. 

 

“What the…” Dick read the label, brows furrowed.

“Dick, we need to go now.” Bruce’s tone gave no room for argument. 

 

“Right, let’s go.” The two men hurried back down and outside, not bothering with the now broken door. Dick slid into the backseat, taking Tim from Bruce and laying the boy down with his head in Dick’s lap. He stroked his fingers through Tim’s sweaty hair, wincing at the fever burning beneath his hand.

 

“Let Alfred know to meet us in the cave.” Bruce commanded as he peeled out of the driveway. 

 

Dick did as he was told, sending a quick message to the butler. The man should have been asleep, but he seemed to have a sixth sense for emergencies as he responded immediately in the affirmative. 

 

Bruce drove the car straight to the cave, using one of the entrances disguised as a wall of hedges. The tires squealed as he slammed to a stop. He immediately opened the back door and took Tim from Dick, hurrying him over to the med bay where Alfred was already waiting. 

 

“Oh dear lord, what happened?” Alfred immediately began examining the boy once Bruce set him on the table. 

 

“High fever, rapid pulse and respiration.” Bruce reported, already drawing a blood sample from Tim. 

 

Alfred took his temperature. “103.5” He read grimly. “If we can’t get it down here, he will need to go to the emergency room.”

 

“I think he was taking these.” Dick held out the bottle. Alfred took it and read the label. The man’s brow furrowed. 

 

“This may be contributing to the breathing issues.” He picked up one of Tim’s hands, examining his fingers. Dick saw a slight blue tinge to his nails. His heart dropped.

 

“That’s bad, isn’t it?” Why was his voice shaking? He handled emergencies every day as Nightwing, and as Dick Grayson. The days of shaking hands and a pounding heart should have been long behind him. 

 

“He’s cyanotic.” Alfred murmured. “Master Bruce, prepare the oxygen, if you please.”

 

The next hour was a blur of IV lines, tests, and hurried instructions as Bruce and Alfred flitted around Tim, trying to stabilize him. Dick remained frozen in place in the corner, helpless to do anything but watch.

 

Finally, Alfred stepped back, removing his gloves. “He’s stable, for now. The fever reducer appears to be working, and I’ve started him on intravenous antibiotics.” 

 

“Antibiotics? What’s wrong with him?” Dick spoke for the first time since sharing the bottle. His voice was steadier than before now that he knew his brother would be okay. 

 

“It appears to be a bad case of strep throat, which turned into pneumonia. I suspect taking an adult man’s dose of codeine worsened the problem.” Alfred’s tone was clearly disapproving. “That, paired with dehydration, malnutrition, and fever was simply too much for his body to handle.”

 

“But he’ll be okay, won’t he?” Dick was biting at his nails, a habit he thought he had broken.

 

“Yes, lad.” Alfred’s tone softened. “He will have to remain on oxygen therapy, and we will need to monitor him, but he should be fine now that he is being treated.” 

 

Dick turned to Bruce. “I forgot to ask, what was the burning I smelled earlier?”

 

“It appears Tim was trying to cook something.” Bruce responded. “Luckily there wasn’t a fire.” He brushed past Dick and headed for the rest of the cave. 

 

“Where are you going?” Dick called after him. 

 

“To find out where, exactly, the Drakes have gone and why Tim was home alone.” Bruce’s voice was cold, barely controlled anger simmering right beneath the surface. Dick had the same question. He wasn’t surprised that the Drakes left without Tim. It seemed to be a trend. But there should have been a nanny, or a housekeeper, or someone in that house with him. 

 

Had Tim been home alone this whole time? All those times he said his parents were on trips, or commented on it being easy to sneak out, Dick had assumed that he still had someone looking after him. Tim was only fourteen; there was no way he was spending weeks at a time on his own. They would have noticed. He would have told them. 

 

Dick and Alfred worked together to clean Tim up and change him into fresh clothes. Dick made note of a bruise on Tim’s upper arm, likely from when he fell. He would have to apply some bruise cream to that.

 

After confirming that Alfred was alright to sit with Tim for a bit, Dick made his way back over to Bruce. The man had his hands steepled under his chin, glaring at several different windows open on the various monitors; trip itineraries, financial transactions, school records. Dick couldn’t make sense of it all with how tired he felt. 

 

“What did you find?” He asked. 

 

Bruce kept his gaze on the computer. “The Drakes have been traveling regularly since Tim was born. As he got older, the trips increased in length, often lasting weeks. Tim was enrolled in various boarding schools during the year, but transferred to Gotham Academy when he was twelve. There is no record of any sort of nanny or full time staff member in the home after Tim turned eight.” 

 

Dick had his suspicions, but his stomach still churned at the news. “What about the housekeeper, Mrs. Mac? Tim’s mentioned her before.”

 

“Ida McIlvaine has been employed on a part time basis since Tim turned twelve. She is only scheduled eight hours per week.” 

 

Dick let out a quiet curse, clenching his fists tightly as heat built in his chest. “I told you.” Dick said, softly. “I told you something was wrong, and you didn’t listen.” His words increased in volume as he went on.

 

“I know, Dick.” Bruce didn’t look at him. 

 

“You told me it was none of our business!” Dick was yelling now. “What if Tim hadn’t texted me, Bruce? He could have died!” His chest was heaving. “This is what happens when you treat a fourteen year old kid like he’s just an employee.” Dick rubbed his hands roughly over his face, pacing back and forth. “This is what happens when you refuse to care!”

 

“I know!” Bruce shouted, finally looking at him. The man looked defeated. “I know, son. I was wrong.” 

 

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Dick felt his face start to crumple. “I would have helped him. He has to know I would have helped.”

 

“This isn’t your fault, Dick. Tim has always been very private. You know that.” Bruce’s tone softened. 

 

“You’ve seen that place, B. It’s like a mausoleum.” Dick’s eyes were burning. “We sent him back there, every night. He’s been trapped, alone in that house, since he was eight. He must have been so lonely.” 

 

Bruce, for once, appeared to be at a loss for words. 

 

A throat clearing caused both Dick and Bruce to turn. Alfred was standing right outside the medical bay. “Master Tim appears to be waking up.” 

 

Dick rushed over immediately, anger at Bruce forgotten. He pushed past Alfred into the room to see Tim slowly blinking his eyes open. Dick hurried over, taking a seat beside the bed.

 

“Hey, baby bird, you’re alright.” He kept his tone soft and soothing as Tim’s brows furrowed, his eyes squinting at the bright lights overhead. Dick reached over and turned down the dimmer. Tim’s eyes relaxed. He clumsily reached up his hand, the one not containing an IV, and tried to pull at the oxygen mask. 

 

“None of that.” Dick took his hand gently, giving it a squeeze. “You need to keep that on. It’s helping you breathe.” 

 

Tim brows furrowed again in confusion as his eyes seemed to finally focus on Dick. 

 

“You’re in the batcave.” Dick answered his brother’s silent question. “You texted me that you needed help, and Bruce and I came to get you.”

 

Tim once again reached up for the oxygen mask, pulling it away from his mouth before Dick could stop him. “I’m sorry.” He choked out, voice raw and scratchy. Dick’s heart tugged at the words. 

 

“You don’t need to be sorry, Timmy.” Dick set the mask back in place. “Just try to get some rest, okay? We’ll take care of you.” 

 

Tim looked like he wanted to protest, but he was fighting a losing battle as his blinks became longer and longer. After a minute, his hand went slack in Dick’s grip as he once again fell asleep. 

 

Dick was still worried, but seeing his brother awake had eased the worst of his anxiety. Bruce made his way over from where he had been hovering by the door. 

 

“You should go to bed, chum.” 

 

Dick shook his head. “I’m staying here.” 

 

Bruce was silent for a long moment, before turning and leaving the med bay. Dick felt his irritation spike at the avoidant man. Then, Bruce returned a minute later, wheeling a folding cot. He unfolded the bed, settling it next to where Tim lay. 

 

“At least lay down for a while. Tim will need you well rested if you’re going to help look after him.” 

 

Dick was still incredibly angry at the man (and, maybe, himself) for not noticing Tim’s situation, but he recognized the olive branch for what it was. The sharp edges of his irritation softened a little. 

 

“Thanks, B.” He climbed into the cot, laying down on his side facing Tim. Bruce leaned over and pulled the blanket up to Dick’s shoulder, placing a kiss on his temple like he used to do when Dick was little. The man reached over and rested a hand on Tim’s head for a moment before turning to leave. 

 

Dick drifted off to sleep to the steady beat of a heart monitor. 

 

---

 

Tim’s whole body hurt, and his head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. Each breath felt laborious. Had he fallen on patrol and cracked a rib? It felt like he had. He had vague memories of waking up a couple of times before, but he couldn’t recall what had happened. With tremendous effort, Tim peeled his eyes open and was met with the familiar site of the batcave medical bay. 

 

Tim took stock of his body. All of his limbs seemed to be intact, so no broken bones. He could feel the uncomfortable tug of an IV in his hand, as well as the pressure of an oxygen mask on his face. A monitor was beeping steadily to his left, displaying his pulse and blood pressure. Tim rolled his head to the side and saw Dick sitting in a comfortable looking chair. The man was scrolling on his phone, dark bags under his eyes as he ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair. 

 

Tim opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a harsh cough. The action sent waves of pain through his throat and chest, tears springing to his eyes. Strong hands helped him into a sitting position as he continued to cough and hack. Finally, when he was sure his throat was about to start bleeding, the coughing fit died down. Tim took several deep breaths, suddenly grateful for the extra oxygen support.

He became aware of a hand rubbing circles into his back. “That’s it, baby bird. Deep breaths. Do you want to try some water?” 

 

Tim nodded and Dick helped him pull down the oxygen mask, holding the straw to his mouth. Tim took a couple of sips, wincing at the discomfort it caused. Once he was done Dick helped him lower back into a laying position. The man went to replace the oxygen mask, but Tim caught his hand. 

 

“What’s going on?” He asked, voice hoarse. 

 

“You got sick. Bruce and I found you passed out on your floor.” Dick ran his fingers through Tim’s hair. Tim leaned into the touch unconsciously. 

 

“Oh.” He whispered, taking a couple more breaths from the oxygen mask before pulling it back down. “What happened?” 

 

“You have strep, which turned into pneumonia. I found a bottle of codeine in your room. Why were you taking that stuff, Tim? How long have you been sick for?” Dick’s tone wasn’t judgmental, it was just concerned. 

 

“Since New Year's Eve.” Tim responded hoarsely. “Mom said it would lower my fever.” He replaced the oxygen in between his responses.

 

Something dangerous flashed in Dick’s eyes, but it was gone before Tim could fully analyze it. “Well, it was too high of a dose for you. It caused a respiratory reaction, which is why you caught pneumonia.” 

 

Tim felt like an idiot. He knew better than to take someone else’s prescription, but it was just Tylenol. He thought he would be fine. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

 

Dick sighed. It was a tired sound. “Don’t apologize, Tim. None of this is your fault. Just, why didn’t you tell us you were sick? Or that you weren’t actually going to Egypt?” 

 

“It all happened kind of fast. I was supposed to go on the trip.” Tim resolutely ignored the heat behind his eyes at the reminder of his parents leaving him behind again. “But my parents had a change of plans. Then I slept the rest of the day.” 

 

Dick frowned at the explanation. “About that, Tim. We need to talk about your parents, once Bruce gets back.”

 

“Talk about what?” Tim’s brow furrowed in confusion. He could feel himself growing tired from the conversation, his eyelids beginning to droop. 

 

“Them leaving you behind, and all the times they’ve left you alone before.” Dick’s tone was angry. 

 

“I don’t understand.” Tim let out a small cough. “What does that have to do with you and Bruce?” 

 

Dick looked sad at Tim’s words, though Tim didn’t know why. The man went back to stroking his hair. “Don’t worry about it for now. We can discuss it later. Alfred is grabbing you some soup. Think you can stay awake long enough to eat some?”

 

Tim’s eyes widened at the mention of soup. “Oh, crap! My soup!” The heart rate monitor started beeping faster. 

 

Dick let out a small laugh. “Don’t worry, baby bird. Bruce took care of it. Though I suspect Alfred won’t be letting you use his kitchen again anytime soon after hearing that story.” 

 

Tim blushed at the words, relieved he hadn’t burnt his house down. “I’m sick, it doesn’t count.” 

 

Alfred chose that moment to enter, holding a tray with a steaming bowl of broth. “Ah, Master Tim. You gave us quite a scare.” He set the tray down on a rolling table as Dick helped Tim sit up again. 

 

“I’m sorry, Alfred.” Tim hadn’t meant to make them worry. 

 

“You can make it up to me by eating this broth.” He rolled the table over so it sat across Tim’s lap. 

 

Tim picked up the spoon, eyeing the broth dubiously. His stomach was queasy, and he really didn’t want a repeat of the pain the water had caused him. Still, he couldn’t decline under Alfred’s watchful eye. He took a small, careful sip. His throat did spike in pain for a second, but it was replaced by a wave of warm relief as the soup soothed the inflammation. Once the soup hit his stomach he realized how long it had been since he last ate. He took the next bite much more enthusiastically. 

 

Tim ate about half the bowl of soup before he started feeling short of breath again. Alfred helped him replace the oxygen mask and lay back down. “Get some rest, lad. One of us will be here when you wake up.” 

 

Tim nodded, eyes drifting shut under the watchful eyes of Dick and Alfred. He fell asleep quickly. 

 

---

 

Bruce was exhausted, though he tried not to show it. Between patrol and watching Tim, he had only managed a few of hours of sleep over the past two days. That morning Alfred had sent him to bed with instructions to not come back down until he had gotten at least four hours of sleep, eaten a proper meal, and taken a shower. 

 

Now Bruce was sitting beside his sleeping Robin while Dick and Alfred got some much needed rest.

 

Tim shifted in his sleep, drawing Bruce’s attention up from the tablet he was trying, and failing, to get work done on. The boy was so pale, looking so much smaller and younger than his fourteen years. Bruce pulled his gaze away. Seeing him lying there, hooked up to monitors and breathing with the assistance of a machine made Bruce sick. He looked too much like another boy who had laid in that bed, beaten and bloody and broken and so, so still. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing keeping Bruce grounded. 

 

This is what happens when you refuse to care. Dick’s words repeated in his mind, over and over. Dick didn’t understand. This is what Bruce was trying to prevent. He held Tim at arm’s length, discouraging him from being Robin so that he wouldn’t end up in this bed. And yet here Tim was, not because of his actions as a vigilante, but because of the failure of the adults around him. 

 

Including Bruce. 

 

Dick once told Bruce that he had a talent for guilt. Perhaps he was right. Or, perhaps Bruce was simply guilty. He had had three Robins, and failed each of them. 

 

Tim shifted again, letting out a small groan. Bruce set his tablet aside, eyebrows drawn together as he watched the boy. Tim slowly blinked his eyes open.

 

“Hey, Chum, how are you feeling?” The term of endearment slipped out without Bruce meaning for it to. 

 

“I’m okay.” Tim stated hoarsely, not sounding okay at all. At some point this morning Alfred had replaced his oxygen mask with a nasal cannula, making conversation easier. “Where are Dick and Alfred?” 

 

“Dick is still asleep. He hadn’t left your side in a day; Alfred and I had to team up against him.” Not that Bruce was much better.

 

Tim’s eyes widened. “A day? How long have I been here?”

 

Bruce checked his watch, seeing that it was about eleven AM. “A day and a half. It’s Saturday morning right now. The last time you woke up was last night around nine.” 

 

Tim frowned, his eyebrows pinching together in stress. “I’m sorry.” A painful sounding cough ripped from the boy's throat. Tim placed his face in his elbow, hacking for a minute while Bruce helped him sit up. Bruce wordlessly passed him a tissue and a thermos of tea that Alfred had brought down earlier. 

 

Tim coughed a couple more times into the tissue before taking a sip of the tea. He slumped back in the bed, clearly exhausted. 

 

“Why don’t you get some more rest, okay? We can talk more once you’re feeling better.” 

 

Tim, already half asleep, didn’t protest. Within minutes the boy had drifted back to sleep. Bruce busied himself by throwing away the tissue and adjusting Tim’s blankets. He double checked Tim’s IV line, noting that the saline drip would need to be replaced soon. Once Bruce ran out of jobs he returned to his post in the chair, grabbing his tablet. Perhaps he could do some more digging into the Drakes. Hopefully, that would distract him from his guilt. 

 

---

 

The next two days were a bit of a blur for Tim. He slept for long hours, only waking up periodically to eat and drink. Every time he would wake to see either Dick, Alfred, or Bruce sitting beside him, which was wholly unnecessary. He was mostly stabilized, and the monitors he was connected to would inform them if anything went wrong. Still, he couldn’t deny the warm feeling in his chest every time he saw them. There was something nice about not being alone when he was ill. 

 

Tuesday afternoon, after Tim managed to stay awake for a full hour and finish his lunch, Alfred said he was ready to be moved up to the manor. Tim tried to argue that he could finish recovering back at home, but it fell on deaf ears. So he was set up back in the guest room where he had stayed at the beginning of break. Dick had carried him up from the cave, which had been humiliating, but there was no elevator in the manor itself and Alfred forbade him from walking. Dick kept up a steady flow of mindless chatter to distract Tim, which helped. Once in the manor he still had to use oxygen, but was free from the beeping monitors and IV. 

 

Moving upstairs left him exhausted, as everything seemed to, so he slept for the rest of the afternoon.  

 

Tim was awoken by a gentle knock on his door. He glanced at the clock, seeing it was around seven in the evening, before calling out a quiet “come in.”

 

Dick entered the room, holding a tray with plain toast, soup, and a cup of tea. Tim suspected he may hate soup by the time he was fully recovered. 

 

“Hey, kiddo. I brought dinner. You hungry?” Dick helped Tim sit up, passing him the tray. 

 

“Yeah, thanks.” Tim took a bite of toast, humming in appreciation when the food didn’t irritate his throat. He was never taking having a non-sore throat for granted again. Dick sat with Tim as he slowly ate all of the food on the tray. Once he had finished, Dick moved the tray over to his desk and took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

 

“Do you think you’ll be up for a bit? Or do you need to go back to sleep?” The man asked.

 

“No, I’m okay.” Tim answered honestly. 

 

“Good. I was hoping we could finish our conversation from the other day.” At Tim’s blank expression, he elaborated. “About your parents.”

 

Tim felt his brow furrow. “What about my parents?”

 

“Tim, why were you home alone that night?” Tim was confused by the question. Dick already knew the answer, why was he asking?

 

“My parents were in Egypt. I was sick, and their trip was extended, so it didn’t make sense for me to go with them.” 

 

“But why was no one else with you? Mrs. Mac, or a nanny, or someone.” 

 

Tim let out a half laugh, half scoff. “I’m fourteen, Dick. I don’t need a nanny.” 

 

“I understand why you feel that way, Tim, but you aren’t old enough to be left alone for weeks at a time, especially not when you’re sick. Why didn’t you say anything? I would have helped you.” Dick was frowning now, a slightly hurt expression on his face. It made Tim’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

 

“Helped me with what? I was fine. I am fine. I’ve been looking after myself for a long time.” Tim knew how capable he was. He had been managing himself since he was eight years old. He didn’t need Dick treating him like a little kid. 

 

“That’s not okay.” Irritation crept into Dick’s voice. “Your parents shouldn’t be leaving for that long. Last spring they were gone for four months. You could have told me or Bruce.” 

 

“Seriously?” Tim felt heat crawling up his neck. “What was I supposed to tell you? ‘Hey, Nightwing, I know we’ve only met like three times, but my parents sometimes leave me home alone so they can do their very important jobs. Please save me!’” Tim scoffed derisively. “And how do you know they were gone for four months? Have you been looking into them?” His anger grew at the intrusion.

 

“We found you passed out and cyanotic. Of course we looked into them!” Dick matched Tim’s angry tone, gesturing in emphasis. Tim flinched back slightly when Dick swung his hand out. 

 

“What do you mean, we?” Tim sat up straighter, feeling some panic sneak in under the anger. “Did you drag Bruce into this?” 

 

“I didn’t drag him into anything. He decided to look into your parents himself after we found you. And I’m glad he did!” 

 

Tim groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Things were fine, Dick.” He looked back up. “Things are fine. This isn’t you or Bruce’s business.”

 

“This isn’t fine, Tim!” The clear frustration on Dick’s face made Tim’s heartrate pick up speed. His skin was prickling and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his whole body went into high alert. “You aren’t going back to that house. It isn’t safe, and it isn’t healthy.” 

 

“You don’t get to decide that for me!” Tim yelled. “I’m not some little kid you get to boss around!” Tim broke off into a coughing fit as the pain in his chest spiked. It took several long moments for the coughs to peter out. When Tim’s vision cleared, the anger had drained from Dick’s face, replaced by a look of sadness that only made Tim’s own anger grow. 

 

“Look at how sick you are. This wouldn’t have happened if your parents had been watching you properly.” His tone was patronizing in a way that he had clearly learned from Bruce. 

 

“Stop talking about my parents!” Tim’s voice was quickly growing hoarse. “You don’t know anything about them!”

 

The door swung open, revealing Alfred. He cast a disapproving look at Tim and Dick. “What, exactly, is going on here? You are meant to be resting, Master Tim.” 

 

Tim turned to Dick. “You heard him, I’m supposed to be resting. You can go.” 

 

“Tim.” Dick sounded exasperated. “We aren’t done talking about this.” 

 

“I am.” Tim laid down, roughly yanking up his blanket and turning on his side away from Dick. 

 

Any response Dick wanted to make was cut off by Alfred. “Master Dick, I could use your help in the kitchen.” His tone brooked no argument. 

 

Tim heard Dick let out a long sigh before standing up, shifting the weight of the bed. Tim didn’t look up at either man as Alfred gathered his food tray and left. 

 

Tim was tempted to just grab his things and go at that point, regardless of what Dick said. Unfortunately, he knew that after not walking for several days he would be too weak to even reach the front door. He couldn’t help his anger, though. How dare Dick insert himself into Tim’s private business like that? And Bruce, too! Tim had never begrudged the man for wanting to keep their relationship professional, and he didn’t get to go back on that now. 

 

Tim’s parents were good people. They didn’t deserve to be judged by the Waynes. This situation could have happened to anyone. Tim was old enough to take care of himself, he just got sick so fast that he didn’t realize how bad it was. The same thing could have happened to Dick in his apartment, and no one would bat an eye or blame Bruce. It was no different for Tim. His parents gave him all the money and resources he needed to take care of himself, the rest was his responsibility. He should have kept a closer eye on his fever, and known better than to take the codeine. 

 

Tim drifted into a restless sleep after that, one full of nightmares and stress dreams about Dick Grayson leaving him behind and his parents watching as he fell from great heights. 

 

Notes:

Dick, teary eyed: You almost died
Tim, teary eyed: I burnt my soup :(

This chapter hurt to write, and I bet it hurt to read. But Tim is safe! One more chapter of this installment, and then it will be time for the sequel! The sequel will be around 12 chapters and is currently around 60000-70000 words, but isn't quite done yet. I hope you all enjoy.

Also, I have been LOVING all the long, detailed comments people are leaving. Any comment is very much appreciated and keeps me going, but there's something extra special about people pointing out the specific parts they like. Thanks for reading!