Archive of Our Own

“...explosion just outside of Magdala, Ethiopia. Due to the small strip of land, Ethiopian Law Enforcement Officer’s and Qurac are still deciding which country will be taking the lead on this investigation….”

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“In most recent news, the explosion in Ethiopia that could be seen and heard from miles away has just been reported as a suspected terrorist attempt. The remains of Doctor Sheila Haywood, the founder and head of Magdala’s refugee camps, have been found. Many are mourning the loss of such a wonderful young woman. Her charitable acts…”

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“....embezzlement! Can you believe it, Belva? For weeks people have set out candles for this woman-even my family sat and prayed for her soul to reach our almighty father. Turns out that even some ‘heroes’ are no better than the rest of us.”

“Thank you Ed. And to add on to that, from what I’ve heard, Gotham citizen’s had better watch out. Particularly the resident gangsters-anyone who works the ‘night life’, really. Hospitals all around Gotham have been packed to capacity with traumas- lowlife criminal or not, word is that the infamous ‘Bat’ has been unforgiving. Sending muggers and rapists into the emergency departments with traumatic brain injuries. But it sounds to me that they all bit off more than they can chew, and they don’t want to admit to it.”

“You know what, Belva. I know you may not believe in the Bat, but I sure believe in him just as much as I do Jesus. Justice is being served from what I can tell-a miracle or not, some of these people are getting just what they deserve, I’ll say! You can’t just mug a defenseless person without repercussion from it? A natural consequence if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Right, but that makes me wonder. If the Bat does exist, and if he had been so forgiving for years before now, that begs the question; What has changed since then? Why now?”

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“Listeners and watchers everywhere, this is Gloria Pierce reporting to you today with a heavy heart. Gotham is not a kind city-not to her people or villains- as we all are aware, but today she has taken another into her arms, someone cherished to those that once knew him. Born August sixteenth, nineteen-ninety nine, Jason Peter Todd-Wayne has died at only fifteen years old. That’s right, you’ve heard me right. The adopted and beloved son of our resident Prince of Gotham, has passed under mysterious circumstances. Wayne Enterprise has issued a brief statement, requesting to respect their CEO in such heartbreaking times. Bruce Wayne himself has not spoken to the press on the incident that occured, or Richard Grayson-the older brother to the late Wayne heir-so we can only wonder. That being said, while the funeral arrangements will be held privately at an unknown time and location, Chief Commissioner Gordon and Lucius Fox of Wayne Enterprises are holding a candle vigil this Saturday at the heart of Gotham. There people can offer words of prayer and thought for the Wayne family who has served our community since the early twentieth century. It wasn’t twenty-six years ago that Martha and Thomas Wayne were shot and killed outside of Gotham Opera house; Bruce Wayne who had been eight, left an orphan. And now left as the father of two children, but with only one alive. How is Bruce Wayne coping with this loss, I’m sure we are all asking the same thing. But only time will tell..…”

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Right. Left. Block. Right. Left.

Tim then planted his foot on the ground and kicked high for the man's side, just barely did he graze his abdomen when the man backed up. Tim used his momentum and followed through, spinning his body around to land the back of his fist on Bruce’s ribcage.

“Your balance isn’t right and your timing needs to be faster. If you don’t center yourself you will lessen the impact of your kick. Do it again.”

“Yes.”

Right. Left. Block. Right. Left. He kicked again, following through on the attack that was dodged, then spun to hit the man’s rib cage again.

“You did not put enough weight into your punch. Again.”

Right. Left. Right. Left-

“Your fist needs to be tighter.”

Right. Left. Block-

“You blocked too early because you know when I’m going to hit. Again. This time you won’t know.”

Right. Left. Block-

“I’m taller than you, instead of blocking you should have ducked. Again.”

Right. Left. Block. Right. Left. His kick was dodged again, and again he spun to land a hit on Bruce’s ribcage.

Not too much weight on his foot or too little. His fist was tight, he ducked instead of blocking, and increased the speed of his attack by a few seconds. He stood there sweaty and panting, looking right at Bruce’s frown. Tim had done everything correctly so there shouldn’t be any complaints-

“Your punch could be harder and if you time it right, you can kick me before the follow through. Do it again.”

“Yes.”

Again and again, Tim practiced the same move. He fixed his stance twelve times, centered his hips five, and tightened his punch sixty. Again. Again.Again. He did exactly as he was told each time until sweat drenched his shirt and his thighs quivered. Bruce wanted perfection, so that was what Tim would give him. He did not complain or request a break, he pushed through his exhaustion until Tim’s movements became too sloppy and Bruce couldn’t stand correcting him anymore.

Sharply he stepped away from the mat, turning his back to him as he unwrapped his fists. “That’s enough for today.”

“I can-”

“Go home, Tim. Alfred will drive you. Return in two days, and with your interim report.”

“....Yes. Are there any files you need looked at? I finished all of my assignments already.”

“No.” 

Like the dark knight Bruce was there and gone, his back disappearing into the private showers so Tim couldn’t follow.

Tim rubbed his chest uncomfortably, then followed his regiment in stretching after. He kept some bandages to use at home, and wiped down the mats like he was supposed to before slowly packing his bag-doing his best to not look at the direction of the showers.

Like routine he left the cave without a goodbye from the man.

Good. He thought. This is what he expects afterall.

--------------------

The unassuming door clicked to unlock and swung open over the tile of the front entryway, drawing in autumn leaves from the front porch. Tim made a show of calling out into the empty void of his home then waved goodbye at the black car sitting in the front gates. Tim knew he was successful in his efforts, Alfred honked the horn twice and drove off back down the road.

He shouldn’t say that it's easy to lie to the greatest detectives in Gotham..on the planet -because it’s not . In fact it could be incredibly stressful on someone who didn’t know what they were doing, one would have to know what to look for, keep track of the fifteen truths on top of the true truth. He’d always done well to remember the dates and lies he’s told, now dealing with the Wayne’s he makes sure he doesn’t forget a single piece of information, and he follows a small set of rules to keep his lies going.

Rule 1: Tell the truth when you lie.

An example: The Drake’s are archeologists, it is their passion, that is the truth.  Do the Drakes follow what other adults expect out of a couple with a child? Absolutely they do.

That’s the lie.

Tim is eleven , not dumb . He can take care of himself, he doesn’t need a babysitter or anyone at home all of the time. He can work a microwave and can manage his own homework, he’s capable of calling a cab or Mrs.Mac if he needs something. He’s been running the streets of Gotham for years all on his own and is now going to be doing that under Batman’s watchful eye as Robin . Tim is not a baby. He believes he’s mature enough to handle what he has to, and so does his parents. To the contrary belief of what CPS would think the Drakes don’t need to be in Gotham to ‘take care’ of their son.

He’s fine.

Tim has had experience in lying on the subject of his parent’s whereabouts to other adults-the nurse, some teachers, the principal and his nanny, Mrs.Mac. The only person who cared about where the Drakes were had been Mrs.Mac, for anyone else it was a matter of trying to get a hold of them for ‘Tim’s sake’ or something. He was smart enough to know that Bruce would ask the same questions, Bruce would have done anything to prevent Tim from becoming Robin, Tim knows the man would have dug through every piece of evidence he could on Tim’s homelife which includes the Drake’s tickets and credit card purchases.

When Robin died and Batman was on his downward spiral of cruelty and self sacrifice, Tim had known in the beginning what he needed to do and carefully curated a web of emails, funds and calls that Batman would see and accept. Hacking into his parents emails, phone logs, banks and cards had been light work, then hacking into Mrs. Mac’s email had been as simple as taking her phone when she wasn’t looking to do what he needed to do. Batman would have looked into their information and seen that yes, the Drake’s are often on their digs, but Mrs. Mac was paid and hired to watch Tim like a babysitter. He would see that the eleven year old Drake heir had an adult to watch him when his parents aren’t in the country.

It helped that the situation used to be the case before he hit his tenth-a few quick clicks, Tim was able to cover up the steady pay cuts over the years and the emails from Mrs.Mac about her disagreement on the matter.

Rule 2: Bring life to your lies.

Another example: Area’s in the home that would be in constant use stay on always unless at night, then rotate the other lights in the home that are turned on so it seems more lived in. If his home was built like Wayne Manor he wouldn’t have to worry too much about this part, unfortunately the Drakes come from new money, Tim’s home is more like a giant fishbowl with how much glass there is in place walls.

So yes. Weave the lie into the truth. Then add more evidence that his ‘truth’ is what he says. He’s done so his whole life it’s like breathing to him, now.Two of three rules that were simple… easy . He thought, locking his door and kicking off his shoes.

The bright lights of the hall fell into the darkness of the soundless home, dragging his feet along the polished floor to the second floor. Ancient artifacts were his only company along the way until he hit the only space in the house that showed life to it.  Tim showered, using up all of the hot water he wanted because no one else would, then ate his prepared meal in the kitchen-using the dining room wouldn’t make sense, and sitting at the long, oak table by himself just made his meal unappetizing.  

When he finally crawled into bed he thought about the third and most important rule freshly created when dealing with the Waynes.

It was a rule to protect everyone involved. It safeguarded feelings, cut off unnecessary expectations or wants, and it helped him keep a clear head so he can follow the first two rules. Any Gotham socialite should be able to follow this rule of all rules…

Rule 3: Always, under any circumstance, keep things professional .

Do what he’s done for years and he should be fine.

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School on Tuesday was any other. Gotham Academy ran from kindergarten up to highschool and Tim wasn’t exactly sure what grade he qualified as currently. He’d skipped two grades last year, which had landed him in eighth, but he still took ninth grade literature and History classes, and STEM classes ranging from ninth to eleventh. He’s naturally gifted but school has never been something he cared about-he didn’t want to skip any grades, actually. He had been planning on breezing through his classes at a regular pace just to keep the load easy-less homework means more time taking photographs. Easy classes equals good grades, good grades equals gloating rights for his parents.

But…

The chill of that night hadn’t been able to control the heat of his brain working. Tim remembered how fast he put the clues together-he remembers how he recalled that cold night in Gotham years prior , a moment right before shots rang in the vibrant circus tent, a family of smiles and amazing acrobatic skills.

At eight years old, he’d discovered a secret so secretive that he never uttered the words out loud, not even in the confinement of his home.

Richard Grayson had long moved onto his new mantle as Nightwing, nonetheless it didn’t matter. The age and physical difference between the first and second Robin was palpable, their skills were entirely different yet powerful. Nightwing was the first Robin , he’d concluded. Nightwing is Dick Grayson.

That meant Batman had to be Bruce Wayne, and the second Robin Jason Todd.

All along he’d been living next to the vigilanties. 

Then on a hot summer day in the pool, looking through the iron fence of his backyard towards Wayne manor, the thought struck him.

All along I’ve been going to school with ROBIN!

Tim showed his intelligence that summer. His parents called for assessments, they threw money and pulled strings. “My son is a genius!” His father would boast over the phone or in front of guests they made time for on their short trip home. Those short moments had made him feel warm…not as warm as the reason he’d shown his hand in the first place.

Jason Todd. Robin. His most admired superhero.

Tim did all of that just so he could share a class with the person he looked up to the most. The first day of that school year last year Tim almost gave himself away when Jason Todd-Wayne entered the room of three of his classes. Robin , Gotham’s hero , sitting in class just like any other student-he couldn’t believe anyone would not see Jason for the person he was. His hero ….

All of that, for what?

Jason didn’t talk much in class, he had friends in the theater group that he hung out with outside of it. The then fourteen year old might have been two seats from him, but he was on another world entirely. Months of second guessing, of shyness weighing him down, Tim had spent far too much time wanting to speak to Jason and admiring him from a distance, imagining that tomorrow, tomorrow I will talk to him. Tomorrow I will be his friend. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and went.. But Jason hadn't been there to see it.

The empty seats in World Government and Biology killed the previous joy of his fellow classmates, and left an impression on Tim’s young heart.

He missed something he’d never had.

Now at almost seven months post Jason Todd-Wayne’s death, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth to not see Alfred Pennyworth opening the door for a smiling young boy-all from his spot at a bench, waiting for an uber to pick him up.

The school had placed a small memorial for Jason just in the entryway of the school. Tim made sure to say ‘hello’ at least once a day, and replaced the withering flowers in the opulent vase whenever he could. There were photos of him throughout the years-school projects, family days, relays. Tim’s personal favorite had to be the photo of him taken after ‘The Addams Family’ play. His drawn on mustache was smeared in the photo where he dressed as Gomez Addams. He had a smile on his face exactly like the photo’s Tim kept hidden and locked away for safekeeping. The camera had captured the flush of his cheeks and white of his smile-Jason Todd-Wayne was alive .

Tim didn’t have the chance to stare at the shrine and fill himself with regrets this time, all of the ninth graders had an option to join a career day convention at the center downtown. Tim definitely didn’t want any parts of that, but Mrs.Mac had a nose for these kinds of things and sniffed out the permission slip, turning it in before Tim had a chance to renounce attending. 

Other local schools were included for this convention- Brentwood Academy , he read on a large, yellow bus. Gotham Heights High School, Metropolis Local City High School, Smallville High, ect.

The bus drove to the roundabout and stopped at the front of the building to load them all off. Coach Cook walked down the aisle and passed along their badges, including the group color they would be in along with time sheets. “-and you had all better play nice with the other schools!” The older man barked at them-mostly the boys. “I won’t have another incident like last year! If I hear that any of you hooligans make any ‘got milk’ jokes to these country....hick kids, you’d better expect to see me every weekend until the end of the year!”

“Mr.C! Like, it’s like you ain’t got faith in us-”

Coach Cook shot a look at the very white boy like he wanted to slap him red. “You’d better stop talking like you go to school down under! Some kids don’t get the education you do, so use it! Now get off my bus, the lot of you! And Mr.Drake! I had better see you at the check times, do you hear me? If you don’t and I have to track you down, I will get Mr.Barnum to babysit you, understand.”

Zachary Barnum, his main tormentor in class. Tim frowned hard, “ Yes .”

He clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s a good man-now go! We’re holding up the line!”

His foot hit the sidewalk and dashed through the pelting rain into the convention center. Very quickly he found his group-purple- just to the right of the door. Unlike his own school, this group was diverse in color, most who looked at him oddly, wondering why he was there. Then a sun-kissed boy in plaid tsked , in an accent so thick that Tim barely understood him, the guy said to his two friends. “Not ‘nother one of ‘em.”

“I heard that.” Came behind Tim.

It was a tan boy his age in ripped jeans, a white shirt and a lighter jean jacket, a pair of round glasses snug on his nose. The other boy grinned mirthfully as he walked to stand beside Tim, “C’mon Paxton, that’s no way to treat your favorite person!”

“You wish Kent -”

“I thought you loved me! Y’know. Since I didn’t tell Ms.Harbough bout that little sheet under your desk-”

“Dude!”

“So be nice! And grateful, cause you know what’s better than just one of me?! Two!” The boy spun to face Tim with a hand out. “Legal name’s Conner, but Conner’s my relative’s name, so call me ‘Kon’.”

“Uh..” It had thrown him off guard. Tim took the boy's hand, shaking it. “I’m Tim. Drake. Timothy Drake but I go by Tim.”

“Good cause ‘Timothy’s’ a long ass name. Was gonna call you Tim instead anyways.”

They let go. Tim raised his brow, “It’s not that long?”

“Eh.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “If a name’s past one syllable, it’s long.”

“That’s an odd logic.”

“What can I say? The family’s a sucker for short names. ‘Ma’, ‘Pa’, ‘Clark’, ‘Jon’. And then there’s Conner, which is two, but I shortened his name to SB to help.”

“That’s still two syllables.”

“Ha! I know, but aren’t you gonna ask what it means?”

“Alright, what’s it stand for?”

Kon got a devilish grin, “Son-of-a-Bi-” The boy was cut off far too soon for Tim to get  to laugh with him. Their group leader explained how everything would go-the booths they would visit- then lunch, and the talks held in the private rooms. 

Thankfully he and Kon didn’t get singled out to join the front of the group, so they hung in the back, talking quietly to each other. He’ll admit that going in he expected to hate every second of the convention, he’s not sociable. Too smart for kids his age, too young for the kids in his class. He has exactly one friend, Ives, who he hasn’t seen in some months, but they play games on XBox when they can. He hasn’t exactly talked to someone his age in a while, but for some reason it’s easy to talk to Kon. It’s probably because the boy is like him-too smart for his own good. Tim didn’t want to be there cause he didn’t need to be…apparently Kon, too.

“..live my nepo baby dream. Ya know? Take over daddy’s business and be rich, let everyone else work for me. Why would I want to be a…” he read the pamphlet. “Nurse Practitioner? Or a waste disposal manager- disgusting . I’ve already gotta shovel ‘nature's bounty’ every day.”

Tim’s mother would kill him for ever thinking of having either job. “Yeah. I’ll just take over Drake industries.” If I don’t die before that. “Uh, so. What’s your dad do? Maybe I know him?”

“Huh? Oh.” He made a face. “The old man’s just an egghead. Doesn’t do anything amazing, and Gotham’s not really his ‘scene’. He’s only good for child support. But he did get me this sick phone last week, check it!” He pulled out the newest Lexcorp phone.

“Dude!”

“I know!” The phone was thin and light in his hand, it looked like glass but with an obvious camera lens on it. Then Kon touched the screen and the whole phone lit up. “And it works out in the boonies! Can’t tell you how many twisters we get a month-we got one the other day and it took out the powerlines. I still had cell service. And it’s got this holographic feature.”

Tim in turn pulled out his new phone, grinning, “That’s cool but my phone can do that, to. Bet you can’t play minecraft on any screen you want?”

“That’s a lie! You can’t do it on every screen!”

“Twenty says I can!”

“Twenty- five says you can’t!”

Twenty minutes later in a cramped storage closet, they sat hunched over a dusty old box TV-the kind with that fat back on it- and built the convention center they were currently ditching. Tim’s wallet just got twenty-five dollars richer. “Dude, if you don’t hurry then those bastards are gonna get in!”

“I know what I’m doing-”

“Let me fix the lights since you’re not going to!”

“Back off . The window’s almost done-”

Suddenly the small space flooded with light. Coach Cook stood in the center.

He looked at the two boys, frozen from where they were fighting over the phone, then the screen that was screeching at the sound of the creepers spawning near the building. The man shook his head, “You know what. Better than last year, I’ll take it. But if I take the time away from talking to Mrs.Cook, my wife , again, to walk all the way back here to get you and you’re not here, I’m going to assign you a paper on the reasons why your English and phys-ed teacher shouldn’t find you in a closet with another boy. You’re, what, ten?”

His cheeks flushed furiously, “I’m eleven and it’s not like that-”

“I really don’t care, I’m not your dad. But don’t you go doing anything that’ll make me have to care. Got it!? This goes for today and all other times I will, unfortunately, be assigned to anymore of these outings.”

“I, okay-”

“Lunch is in an hour. I don’t want to hear any complaints if you don’t get your food.”

“Right, okay.”

Coach Cook shut the door.

“ Pft-”

Tim punched Kon in the arm-it was like punching a brick wall. “Are you jacked or something?!” Shaking his hand. “And shut up! Not funny, dude!”

“Totally was! I like that guy!”

Kon did not shut up, and soon Tim was joining in on the laughter. Cause it was pretty funny.

This is crazy. He’s not sure when the last time he’s laughed like this. Kon’s a funny guy.

--------------------------

He’s cursed-he has to be.

Everything had been fine after that-Kon went to grab them food, then returned a bit after the promised time because he’d seen someone he knew. They ate, played mortal kombat, then came time for everyone to leave. He and Kon exchanged numbers before the exuberant boy waved him off as the bus for Smallville High left. He and his classmates were the last group left of all the students. Tim had sat on the steps of the building, sending tiktok’s to his new friend when their teacher received a phone call, and the worst news possible came to Tim.

“Everyone, call your parents! Tire’s blown out on the bus, unless you want an express line to Gotham general, there’s no way it’s gonna make it here and back.”

Shit.

Tim’s parents were out of the country of course. That wasn’t the issue. It was Mrs.Mac who was also out of the country on a trip to see her son! Her dearest Matthew had called in an emergency the day prior.

The only person who’s able to legally pick him up.

It was annoying that that happened, but Tim’s used to pivoting. First he tried opening the convention doors to sneak away and hide-that didn’t work, they were locked on the inside. Okay, next, he decided he’d get an uber and play off the driver as his mom or dad…

“Remember kids, can’t leave until your parents sign you off. I’m not going to be held responsible for anything. I’ve got ten more years at this place before I get my benefits, so no sign, no leave.”

The rain had cleared so it’d be harder to sneak away…but if he had to, then he would . Tim then had a brilliant idea.

If he faked a text with his dad, his dad could say that he was stuck in the office due to an elevator problem, and he’s on the top floor. He could ‘say’ that an uber is coming to pick Tim up, and that it’s fine for the coach to let him leave. Tim has his dad’s signature saved….it’s nothing to write up a quick document, forge the man’s signature, then send it to the coach's phone for legal purposes. 

Perfect .

It was a great plan followed by five back up plans if that didn’t work. He wouldn’t know if it did work, however, because as he was typing up the document, a voice he hadn’t heard in a few weeks came from above him.

“Timmy!”

He looked up to see the smiling face of Dick Grayson-Wayne. “Dick!?”

“Where’ve you been all day!? You know, I was looking forward to showing you the stunt I had for our booth! That's the whole reason I even signed up for this-doing anything acrobatic in these pants is not comfortable, wouldn’t wish it on anyone, do you know how many times I almost ripped my pants? Too many. You would’ve seen it if you were there. By the way, what are you still doing here? I was going to text you after I left, but here you are-” Each question shot at him a mile per second.

“Coach!” The nineteen year old waved excitedly at the man.

“Wayne? That you?”

“Yup!”

The man told his students, “See kids. That young man there is my favorite student to have ever walked our halls. If only you all took gym as seriously as he did….but I guess not everyone can be a flying Grayson.”

Few students recognized the name, looking at the smiling man in uniform with curiosity. “Nope!~ We’re a special bunch. And poor B wanted me to have fun in your class, ‘too much energy’, he says. But, what’s going on? Why’s everyone still here?”

“Bus tires blew out. We’re waiting on parents to come pick this lot.”

Dick understood, the gears working in his head before turning his attention back on Tim. “Is Mrs.Mac on her way? Or are your parents back in the country?”

Rule 1: Tell the truth when you lie.

“Mom and Dad are still out of cell service right now, I tried to get a hold of Mrs.Mac but she hasn’t texted back.”

“Oh. Well I can give you a lift.”

“You can?!” Sounding a bit too excited- Rule 3, keep things professional. He calmed down, shying away from Dick’s widening grin. “I mean thank you, Dick. I would appreciate it.”

Coach chimed in. “You two know each other?”

Dick ruffled the top of Tim’s head. “Yup! He’s our neighbour and family friend! Bruce is trying to set up an internship for our Timmy here at Waynetech, he’s real smart. We just have to wait till Janet and Jack are back in the country to talk about it.”

Tim wanted to hide at the looks his classmates and coach gave him.

“I see.”

“I’m heading to the manor now anyway, I can take Timmy here with me and swing by his place.”

“You fine with that, Drake?”

“Yes! I mean, yes, I am. If you want I can have Mrs.Mac send a permission slip saying that it’s okay?”

“Sounds good to me. You know my email, now go on. I’ll see you tomorrow for gym.”

“Okay.” Tim hurried to gather his things, allowing Dick to sling an arm over his shoulder.

Coach called out again, stopping them. “Wayne.” He gave Dick a solemn look. “I didn’t have a chance to say, but I am sorry about Jason. You were my favorite student, but he was my second.”

Dick froze beside him. “Thank you, coach. I appreciate it.”

“I’ve been meaning to send it, but I’ve got a stack of some of his old reports in my office. If you’re staying in Gotham, swing by tomorrow and I’ll give them to you.”

Tim watched from below at the many emotions crossing Dick’s face-grief, appreciation, regret. “I will.” He promised. “I’ll come by in the morning. Bruce would want to hang those.”

“My office hasn’t changed, you’ll know where to find me. Until then.”

“Yeah, until then.”

-------------------------------

Tim’s officially been Robin for such a little time, six weeks to be exact. Barely two months. In that time he’s seen Dick about five times, with the majority of them being in the first three weeks since taking on the mantle.

His first time meeting Dick….it had been more like meeting a pissed off Nightwing . 

Then after that, the older teen was just tired the next few times, and then he became himself;oddly enough, Tim thought that version of him the oddest. Watching Dick’s clinginess from afar had been one thing, but to experience it for himself….he never knew what to do at the casual touch.

Dick drove them silently in his expensive car through the streets of Gotham. Dick was uncharacteristically silent, making Tim’s skin itch. Tim is still trying to figure the older teen out. What does silent Dick mean? Is he angry? Jack’s anger was loud, like a rolling thunder over the grey skies. The man would make sure Tim knew he was angry with him, it was the only time the man would raise his voice at Tim.

Janet Drake’s anger chilled him .

Her eyes were sharp, cutting. It would bring the temperature down in the room. Tap. Tap. Tap. Would go her nails on the surface of her skin…the table. Their sharp ends would dig into the flesh of his jaw if she felt he wasn’t looking at her in the eye-Tim hated the color No. 482 seafoam green for a reason.

Tim would rather choose his father’s yelling over his mothers scrutinizing stare. At least with Jack, he’d say what he was feeling and why he was pissed. With his mother, it was a guess and Gotham help him if he got the answer wrong.

“Oh look, we’re in Bristol.” Dick seemed surprised. “We’ve been driving for twenty minutes? Why didn’t you say anything, Timmy?! We could’ve gotten ice cream or something!”

Ice cream with a fellow vigilante is not professional. Maybe coffee, but not ice cream. “It’s fine. You’re lactose intolerant though, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be eating Ice cream.”

“It’s an optional allergy. And I don’t eat Ice cream, I lick it, there’s a difference. Do you chew on ice cream?”

“Ice cream sandwiches. Ice cream cake. Ice cream bars-”

“Okay, fair point, you got me. By the way,” he said as they were coming on the strip that led to their street. “Did Mrs.Mac text you back? Your phone hasn’t pinged or anything.”

“I think it’s on silent-” cursed , he will believe that statement till the end of time, because Kon texted him a picture at that moment. “...nevermind.” Dick frowned and pulled the car over into the grass and put the car in park-Panic ran up his spine. “Dick, what’re you doing?”

“Some research.” He pulled out his own phone and tapped on it quickly. Minutes…hours. Tim spiraled silently in the passenger’s seat of the car, wondering what Dick was doing. “Aha!” Causing Tim to jump almost five feet in his seat. “I hooked my phone up to the Batcomputer; Maeve Mcllvaine. Booked a flight for 7am this morning to Ireland. Did she not tell you? What the hell?”

“Oh!” He ‘suddenly remembered’. “That’s right, I was tired when she told me…I forgot, she told me that her son had an emergency, and that she would be traveling to go see him.”

Dick’s frown moved further-typing away again at his phone, then said. “Well, is there a backup nanny? Cause your parents are still out of the country.”

“...well, no. There isn’t. But I can call my uncle, he’ll come-” To his utter dismay, Dick went back to typing on his phone until the teen shook his head.

“Absolutely not! This Eddie guy is wanted for dealing drugs to children in ecuador! And he’s got like, six…eight warrants out for his arrest, no wonder the Drake’s disowned him. You don’t have any other relatives here, do you?”

“No….but, it’s fine, I can just call Ives. His parents like me so I’m sure it’s fine, they’re good people.”

Not one minute later Dick told him, “They’re out of the city.”

“Oh…”

Dick shut off his phone and reached over to ruffle Tim’s hair. “Don’t worry babybird, you can just come with me! We’ll have a sleepover!”

Sleepovers with your fellow vigilante’s are not professional .

But what choice did he have? It’s not a bad option, Dick’s apartment is nice. “We’re going to Bludhaven?”

“Ha! No, silly! I’m staying a few days here, we’re going to the Manor.”

Tim was too preoccupied with the horror of this revelation to even take note of the new nickname.

-------------------------------

I should not be here .

I really, really, really should not be here.

In the six weeks he’s became Robin only one time did he traverse any further in the home beyond the strip towards Bruce’s office and the kitchen, and that was to sit in the family room his first day there, waiting to have that serious discussion with Bruce. ‘ I know you’re Batman.’ Tim’s vow to stay professional exceeded his want to explore the home of his favorite heroes, he could not overstep the boundaries so clearly in place.

-Bruce Wayne is your partner, not your friend or your father, do not ask him personal questions or for help outside of Robin.

-Bruce Wayne’s business is not Tim Drakes. Only Batman’s business is Robin’s

-The cave is the home to Robin but the manor is not the home to Tim Drake. Do not overstay your welcome. In and out.

Yet right now, sitting at the dining table with a fork in his hand and not knowing how he ended up there, he’s breaking all of those boundaries and then some.

He and Dick were the only occupants of the dining table, seated directly across from each other. Bruce had been in the cave all day, apparently, and had stepped out to go meet with the JL for something. Tim wasn’t sure if he should be happy or disappointed that the man wouldn’t be joining for dinner- happy , probably, because this left his stomach open and able to stuff all of the delicious chicken he could from off his plate into it.

Alfred came behind him to spoon more potatoes on his plate and gave him another roll. “Is the food to your liking, Master Tim?” Tim had shoved the soft, pillow-like roll into his mouth the moment it had touched his plate. He’s never had anything so soft in his short life.

His cheeks were fat. Dick laughed to himself across the table as Tim hurried to swallow the food, “Yes! The food is delicious, Alfred. Thank you.”

The older man hummed in a pleased manner and topped off his water. “The pleasure is all mine. Do you have any requests for tomorrow’s breakfast or dinner, both perhaps?”

Dinner? He forked some potatoes in his mouth, confused. Dick shared a look with the older man, then looked back to Tim. “Mrs.Mac’s return ticket hasn’t been bought yet babybird.”

“Oh.”

“It is no matter, Master Tim. There are plenty of rooms available in the family wing, I shall have one prepared after dinner.”

He froze. The family wing? “But. What about Bruce?” Flew out of his mouth before he could think. “Does he know?” He hadn’t thought about the sleeping arrangement, why should he have to? Wouldn’t it make sense for him to be in the guest wing? That’s what he is! A guest! Not family!

Tim’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but there was a clip to Alfred’s response. “ He will be fine . There will be no issue.”

“Right little Timmy! Don’t stress about a thing. We’ll figure out when Mrs.Mac’s going to be back, until then you can just stay here! You know what, I’ve got to show you the movie room! We also have a game room….” Dick went on and on…Tim barely heard a word of it.

Tim wanted to believe them, he really did, though the confidence he had on the subject couldn’t match what the two Wayne family members felt. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach…. this can’t end well.

---------------

Dick had helped Tim sort his clothes in the drawers in the room Tim picked-the furthest room at the end of the hall, the complete opposite of Bruce’s room all the way at the other end. Tim’s logic being ‘If there’s enough space between us, maybe he’ll hate this less.’ Then the two of them left for a proper tour of the ancient Wayne home. Dick followed through on his promise to show him the movie room and the adjointed game room to its right.

Dick hadn’t seen star wars- a crime! So they got through episodes one and two before Tim started nodding off.

Dick walked with him back to his room and pulled Tim into a hug.

Now. See, Tim knows that Dick is physically affectionate. Tim allows it because that is how Nightwing is with all of his fellow heroes, it’s a partnership…thing. So Tim isn’t being ‘unprofessional’ when he lets the older teen hug him. Usually Tim stiffens but returns it with a two-pat-on-the-back hug. There and gone. Not too much or too little, just like how his mother hugs him.

But now…

Tim’s mind felt foggy. Dick’s arms were warm and his shirt smelled like lavender. Dick basically smothered him, running his fingers through Tim’s pin-straight hair with ease. Tim did not fight himself to lean heavily into that embrace or fight his eyes slipping shut. He was warm and the fingers massaging the back of his neck felt heavenly…..

He blinked.

A ceiling he did not recognize met him.

It took a moment, slipping in and out of his lucid dream, until he was able to slowly push himself out of the blankets weighing him down. 3:04 am. The clock on the nightstand read.

Five hours.

That’s more sleep he’s gotten in one night in years.

He tried lying back down, may as well get eight if he can, but he felt anxiety slowly clawing its way up his leg.

He should talk to Bruce. A partner is not supposed to take advantage of their co-worker’s home or food. Tim should explain the situation, he should thank him for the forced hospitality, maybe even offer to set up arrangements with Ives tomorrow? It’s what Janet would do so isn’t that what Tim should do?

The more he thought about it the more it made sense.

At 3:36 in the morning, Tim walked out of the bedroom and crept into the hall.

At 3:41 Tim fingered the hands of the grandfather clock.

At 3:46 Tim only had two more windings of the oblong stairs until he’d reach the cave.

At 3:47 Tim heard a conversation that he definitely shouldn’t have.

“...talked to me about this before!”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll just go upstairs and wake him up and tell him he has to go home. Is that what you want, Bruce?”

“Of course not, I didn’t say that. You know what I mean.”

“What would you have wanted me to say? ‘Tim's parents still aren’t in Gotham where they should be and the nanny they hired to watch him left and didn’t set up any arrangements for him, where should he go?’ That’s a stupid fucking question! He should come here ! He lives right next door! We can give him everything he needs!”

“I still should have been warned!”

“I gave you one!”

“Telling me a boy who doesn’t belong here is here right after I walked out of the Zeta tube is not a warning! You made a decision without consulting me!”

“The manor is still my home, B. I have every right to invite the person with my title here, more right than you had to give that name away!”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

“Tim is Robin. B. He should be here . With or without an invitation. You should want him here.”

The voice that came out of the man wasn’t Batman. It was the same voice that had called him ‘Jason’ almost two months ago and had wrapped Tim up into a hug like he was something special. A hug that Tim had never experienced for himself-one that had made him jealous of his deceased hero.

Broken.

His voice shuddered, barely above a whisper. “....I can’t .

I can’t, either.

He couldn’t listen to the conversation any longer.

Quietly, Tim snuck back up the stairs and followed the path to ‘his’ room, shutting the door gently behind him. Only then in the darkness of the cold room did he realize that he was crying .