Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim was aware his hobbies were unusual. Most eleven olds were playing with their pets, or watching TV, or doing their long division homework. Tim had no pets, didn’t watch a lot of TV, was bored with long division, and most importantly, preferred to spend his time chasing after vigilantes far past his supposed bed-time. Tim was quite happy with his unusual hobbies, even if it ended with him scampering through a dank alleyway, praying no one noticed him. He’d managed to end up in Crime Alley after Batman had veered off his patrol course and Tim had followed him like an idiot.

He’d been trying to avoid Crime Alley for the most part, because there was a good chance you’d be mugged anywhere in Gotham, but in the Narrows it was a given. So, Tim was regretting following the flash of Robin’s cape, because shortly after Robin was gone, and Tim was getting shoved against a wall.

He froze, before twisting to get away, aware of his camera tucked away in his bag, a Christmas present from his parents, and how he wouldn’t be able to get another one.

“Stop squirming,” his assailant growled, and Tim looked up at the man currently trying to grab his bag. Gaunt, rough stubble over his cheeks, and towering over Tim.

In response, Tim struggled harder, trying to slip under his arm, but was stilled with the edge of a blade under his chin. The man grinned and dug the pocket knife a little harder into the soft skin. “That settled ya right down, huh? Now give me that fancy little bag of yours.”

Tim exhaled carefully as he shifted, slow enough that all the man did was growl a warning, so he could pull out his bag, camera and all. He had to be brave. Batman would be - Batman wouldn’t be scared. Robin wouldn’t be scared. But, then again, neither of them would be caught by some random mugger.

“Cmon, hurry it up,” the mugger said, like he was nervous. Tim didn’t know why; it wasn’t as if there were any authorities or vigilantes hanging about this part of town. He pushed the blade harder against Tim’s throat, until there was a thin line of blood.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tim whispered, trying to handle his fear, and clumsily offered the bag. The man grinned and pressed against him, until Tim was looking up at him with wide eyes as he felt - unless this man had a gun in his pocket, which was possible, then - it was something else.

Tim brought his knee up. Hard. His assailant made a strangled noise of pain, and lurched back a couple steps, doubled over. Tim only allowed himself a moment of victory before he was darting past the man, trying to snag his bag as he went. He did actually manage to pull it from his hands, but then he was being jerked by the back of his shirt.

Tim stumbled back towards him, terror filling him again as his bag was grabbed, and he’d been so close -

“You little -” The man broke off with yelp, grunting as he let go of Tim. “What the fuck?”

Tim twisted out of his loosened grip and saw - a kid, only a few years older than Tim himself, holding a tire iron in one hand and a backpack in the other. Tim’s backpack. He was thin, but more in a lean way than skin and bones, and he was glaring daggers at the man who had attacked Tim.

Tim edged closer to the boy, because he might end up robbing Tim too, but he’d saved him from that fate. The boy swung the tire iron in a circle and stalked closer to the man, who looked oddly intimidated. “Get out,” he said lowly.

The man looked between the boy and Tim once more, before he walked out, pointedly slow. Tim could see him wincing.

Tim reached for his bag, but the boy held it out of reach, scowling at him. “Who’re you? What’s a little kid like you doin’ here?”

“I’m not little,” Tim protested automatically. The boy gave him a flat look. “Give me my bag.” He paused. “Please.”

“You’re a shrimp.” The boy kept the backpack out of reach. “Give me your name.” There was no please, which Tim thought was rude, but he had saved Tim. Ish.

But he was so not a shrimp. Tim frowned a little, but gave him his name. “Tim. And you are?” He cursed himself for the formality of his response, drilled into him by his parents, but entirely unhelpful here.

The boy raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused by Tim’s introduction. “Jason. And you still haven’t told me what the hell you’re doing here. You tryin’ to get mugged?”

Tim crossed his arms, still empty of his bag and camera. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business - fine.” Tim gave in when Jason pointedly lifted the bag out of reach again, blue eyes glinting. “I was taking pictures.”

“Here? Surely a rich kid like you -” Jason glanced pointedly at Tim noticeably untorn clothing, in perfectly good shape, “- can find somewhere prettier.”

“Probably,” Tim said, not particularly inclined to explain that he was following Batman and Robin around. Crime Alley didn’t view them kindly, he knew. ”But it’s more of a challenge finding beauty in ugly place.” Hey, that sounded downright philosophical. Tim had just been trying to make something up.

“Yeah, sure.” Jason seemed unconvinced, but he didn’t ask again, so that was a point for Tim.

“Can I please have my stuff back?”

Jason looked at him for a long moment, and Tim held his breath, hoping desperately that this boy would be as kind as Tim had first thought he was for rescuing him. Finally, he dropped the bag at Tim’s feet. He internally winced at the rough treatment, but said nothing. “Here ya go, shrimp. Watch out for yourself, ‘cause I won’t be around to save your ass next time. Go home.”

Tim wouldn’t do that, but he nodded anyway as he grabbed the backpack and clutched it to his chest protectively. Jason smirked. “Don’t let me see you around.”

Tim wasn’t sure he would follow through, but he nodded. “Thanks. That would’ve been -”

“I know,” Jason said, face dark. “Believe me, kid, I know.”

“Bye,” Tim said, waving. Jason smiled, just a twitch of his lips, when Tim scampered away. Definitely the end of the night for him. Tim would remember this encounter for sure.

Next time Tim ventured into Crime Alley, he was far more cautious. He stuck to rooftops as much as he could, and he’d picked up some ragged clothes from a thrift store nearby, so he was hoping he blended in. He’d left the Bats behind tonight, along with his camera, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Jason. It was - an odd way to show his gratitude, certainly, but Tim was going to do it anyway.

It took some time of running around before he spotted a group of street kids. He crouched low on a rickety fire escape, careful not to make it creak too loudly. Tim scanned their faces, finding - Jason, arm around a kid younger than Tim, who was hunched over, like he’d been crying. Tim watched as Jason pulled something out of his ragged coat and handed it to the kid.

When Tim squinted, he could see the plastic wrapping, a protein bar. Tim was horribly aware of the lack of hunger in his belly, the microwaveable mac and cheese he’d eaten hours ago. Jason must be - they all must be hungry. Tim could see it in Jason’s eyes even as he handed over food.

Tim sighed. He could do something.

The next day, there was a pile of bottled water and protein bars. Tim hoped it would be enough.

The next time he saw Jason, it was entirely by accident. He’d seen him a few times, entirely by coincidence and by no means related to the way Tim ws actively trying to find him. He was again hanging off a firescape, trying to catch a shot of Robin, who’d ventured to the edges of Crime Alley, a rarity.

Tim was pretty sure it was related to the shouting match he’d heard earlier; Robin was definitely getting older, late teens, and probably far less content being Batman’s sidekick. Tim wondered if he would quit, or maybe Robin would be reformed to be more of a partner, and equal. He was personally hoping for the latter. Maybe it would be better with the first way, but Tim could hope.

So he followed Robin, darting along as fast as he could and catching up whenever Robin stopped to prevent a crime in progress, or whatever the kids called it these days. Which ended with Robin comforting a woman who was clearly not used to the Narrows and had nearly gotten her valuables stolen.

Tim snapped a couple photos, entranced by the gentleness in Robin’s body language, the way the anger from his previous fight drained away in favor of helping the victim. Tim allowed himself a small smile as Robin helped her out of Crime Alley.

He shifted to his feet, getting ready to climb down, when the fire escape creaked, more than ominous, like Satan himself was laughing and pointing at Tim. Tim froze, but it was too late - the rusted metal gave way beneath his feet, and Tim scrambled to slow his fall. He managed to snag the edge of the fire escape, cutting open his hand, but it put him closer to the ground.

Tim looked down and groaned. There was a dumpster underneath him, soft enough to break his fall, but it would stink. Ugh. Tim’s hand started to slip, slick with blood, and he let go, falling, falling - gross. Tim wrinkled his nose as he landed, instinctively holding his breath.

That was what he got for climbing on something that wouldn’t hold him. In his defense, most things did, since he was relatively light and perfectly average size for his age. Tim groaned and accepted this as his due as he rolled out, keeping his camera carefully out of the worst of the filth. At least these weren’t the nice clothes his parents would get mad at him for losing.

He pulled himself to the edge of a dumpster and tried not to breathe through his nose - not that it helped, since the stench just coated the back of his throat. Just as he was sliding down, he heard a faint groan. Tim stilled, and listened closely. In the brief moments of shouting between distant alarms, he could hear labored breathing. Oh. That wasn’t good.

Tim landed lightly on his feet and reluctantly set his camera down in a shadowed corner, then listened again. It was coming from - behind the dumpster. Carefully, he peered past the corner of it, and his gaze landed on a distinctly human form, unsurprisingly, on the smaller side, and - that was Jason.

“Jason?” Tim said before he realized it, creeping closer. It was dark, a busted street lamp overhead, but he could see well enough to realize what a wreck Jason was. He was covered in bruises, blood trickling from his nose, and eyes shut.

He was out for sure. And Tim wasn’t an expert on Crime Alley etiquette, but he was pretty sure it didn’t involve tenderly helping an injured kid out and keeping him safe from harm. It didn’t bode well for Jason if he was left alone.

Luckily, he had Tim. Call it karma.

It was certainly a task getting Jason out from behind the dumpster, and he was scared he just made the injuries worse, but Jason didn’t wake. Probably a concussion, but Tim wasn’t sure. Either way, they were far enough from the center of the Narrows that he could call for an Uber and not immediately be laughed at. All he had to do was get Jason out of the alley and onto the actual road that was never used and could be used in theory and would be used by Tim’s Uber driver.

He groaned, arms looped under Jason’s. Jason stirred a little, and Tim didn’t know if he even wanted him to wake up or not. Instead, Jason made a pained sound and scrunched his eyes shut. It was kinda cute, if they weren’t both black eyes.

What had Jason gotten himself into?

He’d seemed confident when he’d gotten Tim free, seemed like he knew what he was doing when he talked to other street kids, but clearly he’d gotten in over his head. Tim could relate. He could also help, even if Jason was really heavy. For someone who was half-starved, he shouldn’t be that big. Maybe Tim was just small.

Nah.

His muscles burned by the time he managed to get Jason to the entrance of the alley, standing over him like a guard dog that was actually missing all its teeth and had its claws cut off. You know. A really vicious guard dog. Regardless, Tim was successful, and that was what mattered.

A view minutes later, and Tim thanked his lucky stars or whatever, because a vaguely suspicious Toyota pulled up beside them. The driver rolled down the window and confirmed that it was him, and only looked at Jason and Tim for a moment longer before gesturing for them to get in.

The great thing about Gotham was that suspicious things were very unsuspicious.

Tim asked for help getting Jason in, and the man raised an eyebrow. Tim reluctantly pulled out a ten dollar bill, and then the driver was incredibly helpful and stronger than Tim at any rate. Jason was stretched over the backseat, bent legs over Tim’s lap, and Tim couldn’t convince himself to get in the front. The driver took it in stride and they were off.

Tim really hoped Jason wouldn’t be too mad at me.

Tim set Jason down on the couch with no small amount of effort. It had taken twenty dollars to get the Uber driver to help him get Jason to the door, since Tim was unwilling to drag Jason over the gravel and concrete. He didn’t ask for further help, because he could get Jason a couple rooms over.

It had been hard, but effective. Tim groaned as he settled on the arm of the couch and evaluated the problems and how to fix them. Namely, the mess of Jason’s face, bloodied and bruised. Maybe Tim should clean that up first. He hurried into the bathroom to wet a hand towel, the softest he could find, and returned to Jason, wondering if he would wake. Jason hadn’t stirred, and Tim wasn’t sure if he should be worried(er).

Even if he was, Tim had the inkling that Jason wouldn’t be pleased if Tim took him to a clinic or hospital or something. Tim wasn’t stupid. He knew Jason was supposed to be in a foster home or something, and there had to be a reason he wasn’t. Tim wouldn’t make that decision for him.

Tim dabbed carefully at the blood, trying not to press down on the bruises, which was pretty much impossible with how many there were. Tim really didn’t know how far the injuries went, and wasn’t about to check. Jason didn’t seem to be having too much trouble, breathing, and Tim didn’t want to -

Jason sat bolt upright, shoving off the blanket settled on top of him. His eyes were wide, like he’d had a nightmare - could you even dream when you were unconscious like that? - and a little unfocused.

“Hey,” Tim said softly, holding his hands up when Jason’s gaze snapped to him. “It’s me, Tim. I was just -”

“Why am I here?” Jason was on his feet in a heartbeat, face twitching from pain. Tim backed up instinctively, looking up at him.

“I - you were hurt. I didn’t want to leave you there, you couldn’t even - defend yourself!” Tim flinched at Jason stalker closer, but didn’t move back. He would - he would be okay. Jason wouldn’t - couldn’t - Tim would be okay.

Jason looked down at him for a moment, standing close, and then spoke. “Where are they?”

His voice was quiet, barely loud enough for Tim to hear. Tim frowned. “Where are who?” He matched the volume, just to be polite.

“The fuckers who kidnapped us."

Chapter Text

Tim didn’t respond for a long moment, trying to understand what Jason was asking. There wasn’t - they hadn’t been kidnapped.

“Well? Timmy, we don’t have a lot of time, c’mon.” Jason’s eyes were dark, serious, and Tim felt guilty for bringing that glimmer of fear out at all.

“There’s no one,” he whispered eventually. “It’s just me.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced around the room, like he was checking to see that they were alone. “Bullshit. Who’s making you say that? We can both get out, just tell me.”

Tim bit the inside of his cheek, backing up a little bit, suddenly unable to be so close when Jason thought he had - Tim hadn’t kidnapped him.

“It’s just me,” he repeated. “I promise. I - I live here.”

Jason made a wordless sound of frustration, stalking around the room. “Jesus, kid, I’m on your side. I don’t want you hurt.”

“My parents aren’t home. They’re in - Thailand right now, I think. You - you helped me when I got mugged, remember?”

Jason turned to face him again, evaluating. Tim fidgeted under his heavy gaze, but after a moment, recognition came. “You are. I knew you were a fucking rich kid. Why am I here?”

“I found you behind a dumpster,” Tim said bluntly. He shrugged. “I couldn’t leave you there, especially not after you saved me. And you were hurt.”

“You say that like it’s at all reasonable. You didn’t owe me, kid.” Jason frowned suddenly, and looked Tim up and down. “Hold on. You told me you would stay outta there!”

Tim shrugged again, smirking a little. And Jason had believed him. “You’re the one who trusted me to listen. That doesn’t sound like my fault.”

“You little shit. How did you even get me here? This is the posh part of town, right?” Jason looked around the room, which was, admittedly, decorated with expensive abstract painting and slightly dusty furniture.

Tim nodded. “Bristol,” he confirmed. “I, uh. Got an Uber. You’re heavy.”

“You’re just a shrimp,” Jason said, but he seemed distracted, like his mind was somewhere else. Tim didn’t blame him, considering the shocks he’d gotten in the past few minutes. “So, what? You saw me after getting the shit beat of me and decided to drag me back here and play house?”

Tim looked down and walked over to sit on the couch. “I just didn’t want you to be more hurt than you already are,” he said quietly. The couch cushion dipped beside him, and though Jason didn’t sit close enough to touch him, it was - nice.

“Thanks. I almost would’ve liked it better if you left me, but thanks anyway. Now -” Jason stood again, more determined than before, and Tim followed automatically, “- you got some food in this fuckin’ mausoleum? If you’re going to kidnap me, you’re gonna have to feed me too.”

“Jesus Christ, Timbo. Why the fuck is this house so depressing?”

Tim shrugged and took a bite of his microwave ramen. Jason had a matching bowl, and was somehow eating it at the speed of light despite it being hot. “It’s not that bad.”

He decided not to point out that they were actually in the more well-lived part of the house, where Tim hung out a lot, instead of the long hallways filled with unused rooms, not even mentioning the upper floors past the bedrooms. Tim had been to all of them, but found it a little too eerie to stay, and quickly retreated to the familiarity of his room.

“Seriously,” Jason said through a mouthful of noodles, “I’ve lived on street corners more homey than this.”

“I don’t believe you,” Tim said with a pout. Jason finished his ramen and looked rather at ease. At least compared to the way he was ready to attack Tim or whoever kidnapped them.

“You should. I’m not the one who committed a fuckin’ felony at the age of nine.” Jason crossed his arms, leaning back in his armchair.

Tim scowled and stuck his tongue out at Jason, who rolled his eyes. “I didn’t kidnap you, and I’m eleven.”

Jason snorted and set his empty ramen cup aside, stretching out on the armchair. In the past couple hours, his eyes had stopped scanning the room for danger constantly, but Tim didn’t blame him even when he did. “No way you’re eleven. Too tiny.”

“Shut up.” Tim crossed his arms, almost entirely false irritation.

“Don’t think I will, Timbers. So, quick question - where the fuck are your parents? No way you’re really alone here for more than a few days.” Jason looked at him pointedly, and Tim was not that small, fuck off.

“I already told you: Thailand. They’ll be gone for at least another month, I think, but probably longer.” Tim shrugged, dropping his gaze. “They’re always gone longer than they say they are.”

“Kid - you’re here all alone?”

Tim nodded wordlessly.

"Shit, no one’s taking care of ya?” Jason looked concerned like he wasn’t literally homeless and found beat-up behind a dumpster.

“At least I have a house,” Tim pointed out, with no intention to hurt, just - he was better off than Jason.

“I did too, when I was eleven. It was shitty, but I also had a mom who fuckin’ loved me, even if she was struggling. I wasn’t alone.”

Tim frowned, because that wasn’t - “My mom loves me!” She had too, of course she did. She just left Tim because she was busy, and his mom and dad had things to do and didn’t have time to watch him like he was a baby. Tim was doing fine on his own! He didn’t need to be babysitted twenty four seven. “She’s just busy.”

“Busy enough to leave her nine year old -”

“Eleven.”

“- for months at a time?” Jason looked entirely unimpressed, but so was Tim.

Jason didn’t know what he was talking about. Tim was lucky that he lived the way he did, that he never had anything to worry about with food or housing or just things he wanted. He had an expensive camera, his own laptop, a phone, and he never went hungry. Tim was lucky. “It’s not like I’m completely alone! Mrs. Mac comes by once a week to clean, and she always talks to me and makes me dinner. And my parents come home. It’s not like I’m starving or - or abused.”

“Kid,” Jason said, voice horribly gentle, like he was handling Tim, “it’s a little hypocritical of me to say, but ya need more than just a house and some food. You need fuckin’ - love. People around.”

“Says the one I found behind a dumpster.” Tim shifted away from Jason, because he couldn’t talk. Jason was - homeless and starving and he was saying Tim had problems with his home life.

“I said it was hypocritical of me, didn’t I? Doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t good for you.”

“Neither is being homeless,” Tim said sullenly. A bit of a low blow, but Jason was acting like he was being abused. “It’s not like my parents hit me or anything.”

“No,” Jason looked him in the eye, stubborn as anything, “they’d have to be around to do that.”

“Stop!” Tim stood abruptly, because he didn’t want to talk about this, and Jason was acting like his parents were bad, but they weren’t, and they loved him. “You can’t tell me about how - how shitty my parents are when yours let you end up on the streets!”

Tim regretted it the moment he said it.

Jason’s expression flickered before his eyes flashed and he was standing too, and he was so much taller than Tim - “Don’t tell me about my fucking parents!” Jason snarled, stepping closer to Tim. “You don’t understand, you have fucking everything. You don’t know what it’s like to have nothing, when your mom is - can’t keep out of drugs and your dad -” Jason cut himself off, fists clenched.

“I’m sorry -”

“No,” Jason snapped. “Don’t apologize. You don’t - you can’t - no.”

Tim flinched, and took a hurried step back. Jason was - towering over him, angry, and Tim didn’t - couldn’t - he was sorry.

“Shit,” Jason said under his breath. “Shit, Timbit, I’m sorry, shouldn’t of gone off on ya like that, not with - I’m sorry.” His posture loosened, less - less of a threat to Tim’s hindbrain, and he slowly sat down.

Tim relaxed and carefully sat beside him, keeping space between them. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.” Tim wouldn’t - Jason hadn’t meant to scare him, and he’d apologized, so it really was okay. He hadn’t even hurt Tim. And Tim still - still remembered the soft smile on his face as one of the younger kids hugged him, the way he’d given up his own meal for someone else. He wasn’t scared of Jason.

“Where’s your self-preservation, kid? Hanging ‘round my parts, coming back after getting mugged, and taking in some street kid. I could take all this nice shit -” Jason gestured around the room, “- easy.”

“It’s not like I would miss it. And you haven’t.” Tim’s parents might, but there was enough stuff that Jason could take something without being noticed, and Tim would be just fine without whatever he took.

“You’re not wrong, but what the hell? Why would anyone leave you unsupervised?” Jason groaned and dragged his hands down his face.

“You know,” Tim said thoughtlessly, “you could supervise me.”

“What?”

“Oh, I -” Tim faltered, because he really had no idea what he was talking about. But if he really thought about it, something was forming, something a little stupid, but - Tim was lonely. “We could fix both our problems. You know. Homelessness and being unsupervised.”

“How - no. You’re not seriously askin’ me to -'' Understanding dawned on Jason’s face, and hope flickered in Tim’s chest

“I am seriously asking you to. Come on, you’re all angry about me being by myself, and I don’t like that you have to live on a street corner, so why not? No one will notice, as long as we’re careful.”

“You’re kidding me,” Jason said, shaking his head, but he was smiling. “You’re fuckin’ kidding me. No one will notice? No one’s gonna notice a whole-ass street kid moving into your house?”

Tim shrugged. It wasn’t that ridiculous. “Like I said, my parents aren’t home a lot. Mrs. Mac comes over once a week, but you can just hide or I can say you’re a friend I invited over. It’s not that complicated.

“It’s not that complicated,” Jason muttered, then looked at him. “You really want me to live with you? Me? I could, I dunno, rob you blind and slit your throat in your sleep.”

Tim snorted. “Would you though?”

“Nah. You’re a decent kid, if fuckin’ weird. But there’s no reason for you to believe me, y’know. I could lie and do it anyway.”

“Most people planning to rob me blind and slit my throat in my sleep wouldn’t tell me that they could do it,” Tim pointed out.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“That’s not a ‘no’.”

“You know what?” Jason held his hands up, exasperated. “Fucking fine. Yeah. “I’ll be your roomie - but I ain’t paying rent.”

“Obviously.”

As far as roommates went, Jason was a pretty decent one. Not that Tim had ever had one before, but he cleaned up after himself, made some food that was actually pretty good, and, most importantly, seemed to genuinely enjoy Tim's presence. It was really nice, actually, to have company and someone to talk to. Tim was having more fun than he’d had in a while.

In fact, he’d been distracted by hanging out with Jason and helping him settle - Jason had been very wary of being caught, and violently declined staying in one of the guest rooms, like Mrs. Mac would sense that someone had disturbed them. Instead, he opted to stay in Tim’s room, though reluctantly, and slept on the floor. Tim had protested, but Jason still resolutely claimed that the bed was too soft for him, so it was just as well.

Anyway, Tim had been so distracted by everything that he hadn’t snuck out into the heart of Gotham all week. Tonight was the night, though, and he was decently sure he knew where Batman and Robin would be tonight. So, after the movie had finished, and the two of them made their way upstairs, Tim waited silently for Jason to fall asleep.

It took half an hour, but eventually Tim was entirely sure Jason was asleep, breathing slow and even. Carefully, he slid out on the other side of his bed, wincing every time the mattress creaked. His feet settled on the carpet, soundless, and - victory. All he had to do was grab his camera, cleverly stored in his dresser. From what Tim could tell, Jason wasn’t one to snoop, which Tim couldn’t say for himself, so he wasn’t worried about it being discovered.

Once he’d retrieved that, Tim walked towards the door as quietly as he could. Usually, he went through his bedroom window, with a convenient tree growing beside it, but he didn’t want to wake Jason up going out or coming in. He would go downstairs, Tim decided. Jason didn’t stir as Tim carefully shut the door behind him.

He exhaled, a little light-headed with relief. Jason had expressed his distaste, or, rather, dismissal of the Bats, not unusual for living where he had, and how it pissed him off that Batman avoided the part of the city that needed the most help. Tim didn’t think he was wrong, but no one could be perfect, not even Batman and Robin. That was why he really didn’t want to tell Jason about his favorite hobby.

It would just be a few hours out in the city. Tim would be fine.

He didn’t go out the front door, since there were cameras and motion-activated lights, and he didn’t want to take the time to shut them off. Instead, he went to the window in the guestroom by Tim’s room, close enough to the tree that Tim was like, seventy five percent sure that he wouldn’t fall. Good enough chances for him.

Tim crawled out the window, down the tree, and went on his merry way. He almost thought he caught a glimpse of someone looking out of his window, but the next moment it was gone.

The next morning, Jason looked at him for a long moment, and Tim was immediately terrified that he’d seen Tim sneak out. Then, he asked Tim to pass him the cereal. Tim let out a quiet sigh of relief and thought about the new photos tucked safely away in his closet.

Robin disappeared. Tim was more worried than he wanted to admit. He wanted to tell Jason about it, but then Jason would ask how he knew at all, because it wasn’t like it was in the news. Batman seemed to be more violent than usual, though Tim found himself trailing after him less and less. Some nights, he thought he was being followed, but whenever he looked behind him, he was alone.

“You alright, Timbelina?” Tim scowled at the nickname, and Jason smirked. “You’ve been off all day.”

“Maybe you’re just so annoying that I’m acting off so that you leave me alone,” Tim shot back. A week ago, Jason would’ve bristled, but now he just rolled his eyes.

“Stop deflecting, you tiny little shit. Something’s wrong and I know it. Tell me, before I make you.” Jason’s eyes glinted, and Tim was pretty sure the threat wasn’t empty. He wasn’t scared.

Tim stretched out further on his bed, turning his head to glare at Jason, who sat at the foot of it, book in hand. It was from Tim’s collection of books that sat and gathered dust, because his parents were insistent that he read when they were there. Tim just memorized the Sparknotes page for a couple of them in case his parents asked. They never did.

Tim leaned over to snag the book from Jason, a smirk on his face. “Give that back!” Jason said, cursing, then tried to grab it. Tim pushed himself to the other end of the bed in an attempt to escape, and was promptly flattened by Jason collapsing over him.

“Get off!” he nearly screeched, trying to push Jason off him. Jason smirked and settled over him heaver.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” Jason said in a sing-song voice, grabbing the book back and setting it to the side. Tim snapped his teeth at his hand, and Jason chuckled. “You don’t want to play that game with me, kid - I bite harder.”

“Stop calling me kid,” Tim said instead of telling him what’s wrong. “I’m only a couple years younger than you.”

“Three years, actually, and you’re not gonna distract me. Kid.” Jason grinned, all teeth, and Tim was suddenly glad that they were friends.

“Fuck off,” he said, and Jason’s eyes widened comically.

“Timmy! Watch your fucking mouth!” He was still grinning, amused, and Tim scowled.

“Shut up. And get off of me!” Tim elbowed him sharply, but Jason seemed unaffected. He’d only gotten bigger since he’d moved in with Tim, an effect of actually being able to eat. He was still probably too skinny for a fourteen year old, on the smaller side, but apparently so was Tim, so it didn’t help him.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been all mopey and sad all fuckin’ day, and I dunno about you, but when the kid I’m leechin’ money off seems upset, I feel like figuring out why, yeah?”

“You’re not leeching money off me!” Tim protested. “You’re supervising me, remember? So I’m not alone all day, all by myself, crying in a corner, so sad, so sad. Fair exchange.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think being company for someone is worth the same as being fed and housed, but alright. I’m not complaining. It’s - fuck, you’re getting me off track again, you little shit.” Tim smiled innocently. “Don’t give me that look. What happened?”

Tim wanted to cross his arms, but he couldn’t with Jason sprawled on him. He settled for scowling again. “I don’t want to tell you.” Jason clearly wouldn’t accept ‘nothing,’ so this was the best Tim could get.

“Sucks to be you. Spill before I make you.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“I’m going to count down from five, and if you don’t tell me, there’ll be consequences.” Jason frowned down on him like he was a little kid.

“What kind of consequences?” Tim asked innocently..

“Fuck - I’ll come up with something, you little shit, don’t tempt me. Fucking tell me already; this is getting boring.”

“Ugh.” Tim groaned and scowled again, and he was about to come up with a lie that would definitely be very good and believable when his stupid mouth got ahead of him.

“Robin’s missing. Gone.”

“What?” Clearly, that wasn’t the answer Jason was expecting, and he withdrew so he was just sitting on Tim instead of flopping on him. “What’re you talkin’ about, Timmy?”

“Robin. You know, the hero. It was on the news last night - he hasn’t been spotted for weeks. What if he got really hurt?” Tim was aware that Robin - or Dick Grayson - wasn’t quite a kid anymore, eighteen now, but he was still - what happened?

“Yeah, I know who Robin is - I do live in Gotham too. He’s probably taking a break or something, kid, don’t worry about him. Worry about yourself.”

“Robin doesn’t just take breaks! And nothing’s happened with Young Justice so he’s not with them, and what if something really bad happened?”

Jason sighed heavily and shifted off of him. “Lisen, Timbits. I’m not a fan of the old Bat and his sidekick, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that both of them can take a beating. Even if something did happen, and Robin did get hurt, he’ll heal. Back out on the street within a month or two. ‘Sides, there’s nothing you can do for ‘im anyway.”

Tim frowned, but - Jason was right. Tim couldn’t do anything to help Robin, not him. The best he could do was - help Jason, which felt like enough. Tim let his head fall back onto the mattress. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Tim couldn’t see Jason’s face, but he could hear the toothy grin when he spoke. “‘Course I am. You should be used to it by now. Now, stop moping and get up. We’re going to go see how many square feet of grass we can tear up and try to plant something.

“You realize we have empty mulch beds?”

“Yeah, but your parent suck so I wanna fuck up their property. Besides, yards are for suckers.”

“I think you mean ‘fuckers.’”

“Fuck off.”

Despite Jason’s words, the ones that were a little reassuring, that night Tim found himself waiting for Jason’s breath to even out that night. It did after a while, worn from pulling grass out, roots and all, for a couple hours, and Tim slipped out of bed. He went into the next bedroom, as usual, to slide out of the window and into the somewhat sturdy branches of the tree. They’d never snapped before, though sometimes it groaned under his weight.

“Tim.” Tim froze at the sound of someone saying his name, and for a brief, terrified moment, he thought it was his dad. But it was Jason, and Tim turned slowly to face him. Jason’s expression was flat, arms crossed, and Tim was filled with foreboding. “Hey.”

“Where ya going, Timbers?” Jason said, casual, like he hadn’t just caught Tim trying to sneak out a window at one in the morning. Tim shrugged.

“Out.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Listen, kid. I’ve been watching you climb out for weeks now waiting for a time to catch ya. Where the hell have you been sneaking out to?”

“Nowhere,” Tim said stubbornly, lifting his chin. “It’s none of your business, anyway.”

Jason stepped closer, and Tim didn’t flinch, but he did keep his eyes carefully on Jason. “None of my business? It sure fuckin’ is, since no one else you know seems to give a singular shit about you. I’m the only one who actually cares where you’re going, so it is my business. Tell me.”

Tim edged back into the window, like he could make a run for it. “No.”

Jason sighed. “Don’t make me chase you, Timbits. It’s all in the long legs and not being tiny. Come on, just fucking tell me. It’s not like I’m going to rat you out to anyone.”

“You’re the one I care about knowing!” Tim snapped. “I don’t have to tell you anything. You live in my house.”

Jason scowled, eyes flashing. “Low blow right there. You don’t have to tell me anything, but you fucking better. Let’s go back to your room -” He still wouldn’t call it their room, Tim reflected, “- and talk about it there. Seriously.”

Tim stayed where he was for a long moment. He didn’t - he didn’t want Jason to be upset with him. Sure, he couldn’t really do anything other than leave, which he probably didn’t want to do, but Tim - Tim really liked being with him. It was like having a brother, almost, like all those selfish dreams he’d had about Robin finding out about his parents and becoming his brother, but more real. Something achievable, something Tim could have. And he didn’t want to mess that up by telling Jason about his stupid hobby.

“Come on,” Jason said again, coaxing, and Tim deflated.

“Fine.” Tim shut the window behind him and pointedly didn’t remark on the relief that was stark in Jason’s expression. The two of them returned to their room - it was both of theirs, really, and Tim knew it - to try and ease the tension.

Tim sat on the rug, leaning his back against the bed, while Jason laid on top of it and looked down at him, clearly not about to let it go. “So. Do I have to dig it out of you, or will you just tell me the fucking truth, kid?”

Tim didn’t - he couldn’t lose this. Maybe - maybe Jason wouldn't really hate him, just be upset. “I’ve been going into the main part of Gotham.”

“Back to fucking Crime Alley? Timmers, you know it’s dangerous there, you can’t just -”

“No,” Tim said quickly. “That was only the once. Twice.” Lie, but Tim had only been going there to watch Jason after the first time, and he hadn’t returned. He knew how worried Jason would be. “No farther than the Bowery.”

“Sure. Say I believe that - what the hell makes you want to leave your cozy bed and wander into Gotham at three am?” Jason’s voice gradually rose as he spoke, frantic, until he was half-shouting at the end. Tim hunched over a little bit, and Jason instantly softened. “Shit, sorry, kid. But seriously. Why?”

This was it. Tim was going to tell him, and he wasn’t going to stutter or hesitate, and he was - not going to look Jason in the eyes. He had to do that. “I - I take pictures. At night. Of Batman and Robin.”

“You what?”

Tim didn’t look at Jason. He didn’t think he could bear to see the anger in his eyes when he processed it. “I’ve been doing it since I was a kid -”

“You are a kid.”

“- but I haven’t been doing it a lot recently. It was - I was alone, and they were there, even if they didn’t notice me. They were always there, and I could -” Tim’s voice cracked, and he swallowed, “I could look at them and feel like it was okay.” Tim shrugged, a little self-deprecating, and drew his knees up to his chest.”

“Timmy -” Jason cut himself off, and when he spoke again, it was softer. “Timbers, can I come down there and sit with you?”

He couldn’t be - that mad, if he still wanted to sit with Tim. Tim nodded shakily and steadfastly ignored the wetness on his cheeks. A moment later, the bed creaked, and steady warmth was pressing against him. Tim blinked furiously, than looked up to see Jason,

He looked worried, like he was scared for Tim, but he didn’t look angry at all, no matter how he’d sounded earlier. Slowly, he wrapped his arm around Tim. Tim shuddered and leaned into him, even though he was probably snotty and gross even though he wasn’t crying. He was just - not crying. Yeah.

“Sh, it’s okay. It’s okay, Tim.”

Tim desperately wanted to believe him. For now, he turned his face into Jason’s shoulder and listened to him reassure him. Tim wasn’t alone. He had to believe that.

Chapter Text

Tim had been getting ready for school, since timing had worked out wonderfully in the way that he had found Jason a few days before spring break, and skipped until break came, but now it was time. Except Jason wasn’t up yet, and they had to go! The bus would be here soon. Tim still remembered the argument over a bus coming to get Tim, ‘like a lowlife’, but Janet had pointed out that it was a bus specifically for Gotham Academy, where only the richest kids went.

Where Jason was going too, but they were gonna be late.

“Jason!” Tim shook him furiously until his eyes cracked open. “Come on, we have to go!”

“What?” Jason blinked tiredly at him, jaw cracking in a yawn. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to school, Timbits?” He said it a little mournfully, like he was jealous, which was stupid, because Jason was going too.

“We both are! Get up, we have ten minutes!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jason looked reluctantly awake and aware, and irritated with it. “I’m not going to school.”

“Yeah you are! You’re enrolled in classes and everything. Let’s go!” Tim tried and failed to drag him up, pulling with all his might to no avail. Stupid unfairly large teenagers. Tim hated being late, and he knew his parents were notified when it happened, and sometimes their secretary sent him a reprimanding email.

“Hold the fucking phone.” Jason sat bolt upright. “You enrolled me in your school and didn’t tell me? What the fuck, Tim?”

“I told you! Right?” Tim frowned a little, because he was pretty sure he’d told Jason and run his classes through him - just the basics, nothing advanced, the base freshman classes, and a few electives. Some of the classes they even shared, because Tim had skipped a few grades, so it worked out.

“No,” Jason said slowly, “you didn’t. Timbers, I haven’t been to school in years. I’ll be way behind, especially starting now in the middle of the year.”

“But - I could have sworn I told you! I can help you, though! We have four of the same classes, and the teachers know you’re going to be behind.”

“Wait - fucking hell, we have the same classes? You’re like three years younger than me! And - how the fuck did you manage this? What about your parents?”

Tim waved off his concerns, because, honestly, like Tim wouldn’t have been prepared for these kinds of things. He wouldn’t just throw Jason in there without anything! “Yeah, I skipped some grades as a kid. As far as anyone knows, my parents are paying for your education because they’re such wonderful people, and the school is supposed to shut the fuck up about it or they’ll sue. Also, the email the school has for my parents is actually mine, so.”

Jason still looked lost, but they were going to be late. Tim tugged at his sleeve insistently, pulling him halfway out of the bed before Jason pulled back. “You - enrolled me in your fancy rich private school by - impersonating your parents over email? Jesus fucking Christ. Isn’t it expensive as fuck? How’re you paying without your deadbeat parents noticing?”

Tim shrugged. “It’s not important, come on. The bus is going to be here in like ten minutes! I’ll tell you everything all the way.”

“What the hell?” Jason dragged his hands down his face and rolled out of bed. Tim mimed a crowd going wild. “Let’s go to fucking school. If I fail everything, ‘s your fault.”

“You won’t!” Tim said cheerfully. “We can eat some breakfast bars on the bus! Your uniform’s in the closet!” Tim walked out of their room and cheerfully shut the door behind him.

“My what?”

Tim smiled to himself. This was gonna be great. He’d finally have a friend in his classes that actually put up with him - unless it was all an act and Jason would pretend he didn’t even know him the second he got a chance, and he’d be embarrassed to talk to him and - no, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

After a quick explanation on the back row of the Gotham Academy bus, Jason was only slightly less apprehensive. Seriously. Him? In a private school for Gotham’s elite? He wanted to laugh - he did laugh, in the temporary privacy of their room, when Tim left and Jason found that the uniform fit him perfectly. How the fuck had Tim managed that? Jason was thinking that a lot recently. He’d really had no idea what he was signing up for when he agreed to stay in the empty mansion with an eleven year old. An eleven year old that Jason was quickly finding out was way too smart for his own good.

Way too smart. Jason had thought it was odd at first that a kid had been hanging around the Alley, but he’d explained away all Tim’s oddities with the excuse that he’d practically raised himself at this rate. But Jason was realizing that Tim was just - weird.

He meant it in the most affectionate way possible, of course. The kid was something, an odd mix of shy and confident, and just - different than anyone Jason had met. Then again, he’d never seen a preteen who followed around vigilantes for fun.

Also, it was fucking insane how smart Tim was. He hadn’t realized it at first, but Tim just knew all sorts of things and equations and scientific laws. He could rattle off quantum theory at the drop of a hat, and Jason hadn’t even heard of half the things he talked about. And he was apparently in the same grade as Jason, who was three years older than him. Jesus fucking Christ, this kid. Jason couldn’t get enough.

That brought him back to their current issue; Jason was about to head to his first class on his first day in Gotham Academy - aka, the best school money could buy in the entire city, and Bludhaven to boot. Jason, who hadn’t been to school since sixth grade, at which point it had been a shitty public school that was barely standing up. Jason liked learning, but that had been hell. He’d almost been glad when the mayor decided to shut it down, like there weren’t a couple hundred kids using it. Fucking bureaucrats.

Jason’s first class was with Tim. He had all three electives with him, and English, but the science and math were separate, because Tim hadn’t put Jason in honors classes other than English, which was good, because Jason would be struggling with his normal classes. Tim must have picked up on his taste for literature, though. English was the only class he had any hope for.

“Alright,” said Tim - yeah, that was right, all five feet of him - as he surveyed the school when the bus pulled to a stop. “Let’s go. Got your schedule?”

Jason nodded. Tim had handed it to him when they went out the door, and the piece of paper was folded and tucked away in his pocket. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you, Timbit.”

Tim smiled innocently, and Jason didn’t believe it for a second. He may look sweet and cute, but Tim was a little shit and Jason knew it. “Good. Come on!” Jason followed him as they filed off the bus, posh voices overlapping with each other. God, this was going to be a disaster.

Tim led him to the fucking huge gymnasium while Jason tried to convince himself that people wouldn’t be able to tell where he was from just by looking. His hair was a bit messy, but not greasy and overgrown. He was wearing a fucking uniform that Tim had managed to tailor without even telling him. He was with the fucking Drake heir, who for some reason deemed Jason perfect company, like he hadn’t met Jason in an alleyway while he was getting mugged.

Jason was so fucking glad he’d left the Batmobile alone in favor of helping that kid. The irony didn’t escape him, knowing now what Tim had been doing there. Coincidence was one word for it.

But, seriously, the gym was fucking huge, and the floors looked practically polished to a sheen. What the fuck was up with that? It wasn’t like a bunch of teenagers in a mandatory gym class would appreciate it.

Class went somewhat smoothly. Jason knew basically no one, and even though the teacher taking attendance did a double-take when he saw him, nothing major went wrong. They played dodgeball, which Jason thought was something that only happened in movies, but no.. He was the second one out by some snobby looking kid who sneered at him.

The next round, Jason nailed him in the face. Worth it.

Tim - Jason had never really seen him look so small as he did surrounded by kids three years older than him and hiding in the background. Jason was bigger than him by a lot and he was on the smaller side himself, because starving when you were meant to be growing did wonders for a kid. It was odd seeing him so subdued..

He had Algebra next block. Jason had never been so confused in his life.

After that was theater, which was significantly more fun, even with Tim reluctantly there. He told Jason that he did lights and tech during the shows, and he’d worked out an arrangement with the teacher that he didn’t have to go onstage during class or performances. At first Jason thought he’d bribed the teacher, but no. He just gave her that wide-eyed pleading look and was extra polite, and voila.

Jason was never trusting that face. It was cute, though, like those owls looked like when they got wet. Weird as shit, but oddly endearing.

English was also fine, and during lunch Tim sat alone save for Jason. He wondered if that was normal, or he was just doing it to help Jason adjust. He really hoped it was the latter. The idea of Tim sitting at an empty lunch table, poking at his food, looking fucking tiny and sad and alone and - yeah, Jason was more than a little attached. He gave Tim a sideways grin while he rambled about what happened in his tech class.

Jason liked some of his classes. He was way out of his depth in math and science, but his electives were good, and English was somewhat understandable. He’d gotten some looks in the hallways, in a couple of classes, the kind of look that made him want to break someone’s nose and tell them to fuck off. He didn’t. No fights on the first day, at least, and - if Tim was there - Jason didn’t want him to see more violence than he had to.

It was a stupid notion, since Tim had been trailing after Batman since he was nine, and that man had issues, most of which were resolved with fists. That was kind of his whole thing - that, and not giving a shit about anyone in the bad part of town. Then again, the entirety of Gotham was the bad part of town. Crime Alley was just the worse bit. Tim wasn’t a stranger to violence, but something always made Jason hesitate.

By the end of his last class, though, he was dead on his feet. Well, it was more mentally than physically, but still. He and Tim got on a bus, and Tim chattered the whole ride back. Jason listened, didn’t tune out, and occasionally interjected.

No kid should ever look so happy just because someone was listening to them.

“Alright, Timmers,” Jason said as the bus drove away and they walked up to the doorstep, “I gotta hand it to ya. The way you pulled this together was impressive for a shrimp like you.”

“I’m not a shrimp.” Tim was smiling, though, lips twitching as he tried to pretend he wasn’t. “Thanks, I guess. Good manners for a street rat.”

“Bad manners for a rich brat,” Jason countered, elbowing him lightly and ushering him inside. “Now, we should watch Pride and Prejudice to reward ourselves for getting through that without any fights.”

“You wanted to fight people?” Tim seemed more curious than horrified, eyes wide and inquisitive. Way too smart for his own good.

“‘Course I did. The amount of rich brats in that school is enough to make any real Alley kid itch to fight. That includes you, Timbers.” Jason grinned and drew him into a headlock, aggressively rubbing his fist into Tim’s hair while Tim squawked and tried to pull away.

If Tim was too smart for his own good, Jason was the perfect person to keep him in one piece. Call it his unusual hobby.

Dick had not been prepared to find a message from Gotham Academy in his professional email that Bruce had insisted on him making when he was fifteen, and he used mostly for interactions with ‘important people’ and was technically how people were supposed to contact Richard Grayson, former ward of Brucie Wayne. Needless to say, he hardly ever used it, and the only reason he even noticed was because it set off a notification on his phone. Weird.

Dick dropped down from the bar and landed with a flip, because he could never resist, actually. One of the downsides of moving out - it wasn’t running away if he was eighteen, so fuck Bruce - was that he no longer had a personal gym and acrobatics center in his basement. He’d gotten a membership at a place nearby and was debating teaching.

He was good with kids. That was one thing Robin had been useful for - he was often the one getting through to younger victims because some people were emotionally incapable. His routine was pretty much over, anyway, and curiosity got to him enough to end it a little early.

He opened the email and was immediately passive-aggressively insulted. Wow.

Dear Richard Grayson,

As a distinguished alumni of our wonderful academy who successfully participated in our community outreach and cultural understandings program, we are reaching out to you to inquire if you would be willing to mentor our newest community outreach participant, Jason Todd, who was recently hosted by the Drakes, a notable Gotham couple known for their philanthropic work here and abroad, and is working hard to adjust to our wonderful academy. Please respond by the seventeenth of April.

Kind regards and good wishes,

Gotham AcademyWell. That was a lot to unpack. Dick was actually pretty sure he’d never even fucking participated in that program, since by the time he was getting back into school he was legally being fostered, and a few months later adopted. They’d never said shit about an outreach program.

Fucking rich people. Dick knew he wasn’t an expert after years putting up with the bullshit, and he’d never fit in as seamlessly as Bruce wanted - of course, living up to any of Bruce’s standards was impossible. Gotham Academy had been horrible, even if the education was decent. Just another place for the circus kid to get harassed and for Bruce to tell him sternly that he was strictly forbidden to use any of his training, even when he was shoved around. Bitch.

God, rich kids were the worst. He didn’t envy this Jason kid. Maybe he could use a sympathetic ear and someone who actually had dealt with half the shit he was going to deal with.

The Drakes had a kid, right? Right. Dick remembered him. Tiny thing, showed off like a prized pet until his parents left to schmooze and he’d stumbled into Dick. Polite, quiet, hadn’t said anything with implications. He’d seemed delighted to meet Dick, actually. Though he had no idea how he would react to someone truly of a low status and not Bruce Wayne’s ward.

Weren’t the Drakes out of town at the moment? They were always flitting around the globe, from what Dick could tell, but that didn’t work very well when you were fostering a kid. Bruce had found out the hard way that it was shitty to leave the twelve year old who’d clung to you alone for a week with hardly any warning. Fucking asshole.

Something was off about this, though. For all the Drakes were ‘philanthropists’, they’d never seemed the type to get up close and personal to the charities they gave to, let alone take in an entire child and pay for his education at the best school in the area. The Drakes, from what Dick could tell, barely paid attention to their own kid. No one called them out on it, and they were good at hiding it, but Dick was better at noticing. Half-training, half-instinct.

Yeah, he’d mentor Jason Todd. He was living with Dick’s old neighbors, after all. He would drop by for a friendly visit.

Dick typed back a quick email that was barely nice enough to qualify as polite, and barely neat enough to qualify as formal, and made his way to Gotham. Fucking Gotham. He drove past Wayne Manor and determinedly did not pull into the driveway, though Bruce probably saw him drive by with his fucking cameras - or the tracker he’d denied installing - and headed straight for the Drake residence.

There were no cars in the driveway, but there was a garage that Dick didn’t bother snooping in - yet - as he walked the door and rang the doorbell. It echoed oddly through the house, probably because it was fucking huge, though not so much as Wayne Manor. Fucking rich people.

A minute or so later - Dick wasn’t surprised by the delay, seeing as the Drakes and Jason could be anywhere in the mansion - the door opened. At first Dick thought it was no one, until he looked down. Oh. Tim. “Hey,” he said with a bright smile, the sort of easy-going charm he often employed.

The kid beamed for half a second, before his expression closed over into neutrally pleasant politeness. “Hi, Mr. Grayson-Wayne.”

Dick wrinkled his nose, exaggerated, just to try and coax a reaction out of the kid. “Just Dick,” he corrected easily. “Can I come in?”

“Sure!” Tim, again, looked delighted for a half-second before forcing his face back to something more neutral. He stepped back to let Dick come inside and shut the door behind them. “Why are you stopping by?”

“Friendly visit between former neighbors? No, it’s about Jason.”

Tim froze, and for another brief snap, he looked terrified. “What about him? He hasn’t - done anything, right? Is he in trouble? I promise he -”

“No, no,” Dick said hurriedly, cutting him off. “Nothing bad, I promise. But the school emailed me saying he’s in an outreach program, yada yada, I was in an outreach program, and would I please come help him out?”

“Oh.” Tim shrugged, and smiled again, small and fucking adorable. “There’s a program?”

“Apparently. To be honest, it didn’t do anything when I was in school, and I bet it’s pretty much the same for him. But I wanted to drop by and say hey anyways. Where is he?”

“Upstairs, watching a movie.” Dick took that to mean they had both been watching a movie.. “I’ll get him. You - do whatever, I guess. Make yourself at home?”

“Alright, Tim,” Dick said with an amused smile. Interesting kid.

While Tim ran upstairs, Dick took some time to snoop. The fridge was surprisingly empty, not too much variety, just leftovers from what seemed to be frozen meals and the stray vegetable. Some soda and orange juice. Dick thought about the fridge in the Manor when he was Tim’s age - well, a little older, but still. It had been evident that a family of sorts lived there. The same could not be said for this fridge. Dick was getting even more of a bad feeling about this.

The pots and pans were unused. At least, they hadn’t been used for a while, literally gathering dust. Dick straightened and leaned casually against the counter when Tim returned with another kid in tow. A few years older, on the scrawnier side, but Dick would say around thirteen or fourteen. He eyed Dick like Dick was a bomb liable to go off at any given moment. Fair assessment,

For now, Dick kept his body language relaxed and non-threatening. “Hey! You must be Jason. I’m Dick Grayson, but just call me Dick.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Dick?”

Dick snorted, more forced than his smile. “Yeah, I’ve heard it all. Go one. Make fun of it. Guarantee you won’t come up with something new.”

Jason looked like he really wanted to take Dick up on that challenge, but refrained, looking him up and down again. Tim nudged him, something scolding in his expression, and Jason sighed. “Cool. I’m Jason. You’re Bruce Wayne’s kid?”

Dick’s smile was even more forced this time, but it fit flawlessly on his face. “That’s the one. Former circus kid, thrown into Gotham Academy. It was something. The school reached out to me because I was in the quote unquote ‘outreach program’ and wanted to see if I’d help you out. Between you and me, there isn’t really much of a program, just something that looks nice on paper. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Gotham Academy had been hell for Dick at first. He’d been looked down on, ostracized, and the classes had been really fucking hard. He was only a little protected by being the ward of Bruce Wayne. It was probably worse for Jason, with the Drakes less powerful of a family, and no public appearances with Jason. From what he could tell, the entire affair was meant to be kept on the down low.

Jason scowled. “I have. It’s bullshit.”

“Jay!”

“You know I’m right, brat.” Jason’s expression softened a little anyway, and Dick picked up on it immediately.

He hadn’t been expecting Jason and Tim to be at each other’s throat, but they were closer than Dick had expected. Tim’s body language was more at ease with Jason there, though he’d never been especially tense. Jason’s body was angled slightly towards Tim, a protective edge to him. It was kind of cute, actually, how Tim flashed his own scowl at Jason as he smirked.

“He’s right.” Dick could agree with Jason. “Where are you from, Jason?” His accent was from Crime Alley, though he seemed to be making an effort to hide it. Unfortunately for him, Dick had been trained to notice things.

“Gotham,” Jason said, eyes flashing. He looked oddly similar to Tim other than their builds, the same messy dark hair and bright blue eyes. Dick was aware he had similar features, though his skin wasn’t so pale.

“Nice. You and Tim seem familiar.”

“I’m his babysitter.” Jason’s face was deadpan, as was his tone, but Tim squeaked, shoving him.

“He is not! I don’t need a babysitter, anyway, and you’d be a horrible one! You’re too mean.”

Jason snorted, grinning. “If you say so, shrimp.”

Dick, however, thought that Tim absolutely did need a babysitter. It was a Saturday, so they weren’t at school, and the time of day the older Drakes would probably be at work. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that not everything was as it seemed. Neither of the boys seemed uncomfortable in his presence - Tim, especially, looked more than happy with it - so he didn’t feel too bad for subtly pushing to stay.

“What were you two watching upstairs?” Dick asked, perfectly innocently curious.

“Aladdin,” Tim said, and smirked at Jason. Jason elbowed him.

Dick grinned, genuine. “That’s a great movie! I didn’t know kids your age liked Disney movies, though. Not too cool for them?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You’re not that much older than us. You’re still a teenager.”

“My legal status as an adult begs to differ, actually. But I still watch Disney movies when I’m sad. What part are you on?”

“Still the opening number. It’s - not what I expected.” Jason shrugged, and Dick was immediately curious.

“Haven’t watched it before?”

“Nope. First time for everything, I guess. Timbit’s very insistent that I get the full experience and refuses to spoil anything. Brat.” Jason just rolled his eyes when Tim shoved him in retaliation.

Dick had never had siblings, but he imagined it’d be something like those two, and he wondered how in a few short weeks, a rich heir and a kid from Crime Alley had become so close. It was impressive, honestly. And also very, very interesting. If he could just snoop some more under the guise of watching a movie - and also watch the movie - he could figure out what was going on.

“Well, he shouldn’t!” Dick felt offended at the very thought of spoiling such a classic for someone who had never seen it. “And shame on you for trying to make him.”

Dick watched as Tim made a face at Jason, smug in his victory, and said something clearly without thinking. “You should watch it with us! I mean -” Tim visibly struggled to find his words again, the justifying ones, “if you’re not busy. Which you probably are, I’m sure you’ve got lots of important stuff going on, and you probably barely managed to squeeze in a quick visit, and -”

Dick decided to spare him from digging the grave deeper, and this worked perfectly for his purpose. “I’d love to stay. If that’s good with you, Jason?”

Jason rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Whatever. If it’ll make the little brat happy.”

Tim’s face transformed from pure delight to irritation. “I am not a little brat, you’re just -”

Dick thought, as Tim continued to go off and they walked upstairs, that this would be rather fun. He also couldn’t help but think that both of these kids were adorable, and had the inexplicable urge to bundle them up in fluffy blankets or whatever and make sure nothing happened to them ever.

Great. He was getting attached. Dick mentally heaved a sigh and settled on the blanket fort they’d made of a bed and turned his eyes to the screen. He’d snoop later.

Tim couldn’t believe that Robin was in his house. In his house, and sprawled next to him singing along badly to ‘A Whole New World’. Well, at least Tim wasn’t worried about him anymore. He seemed perfectly fine, if a little tired from the circles under his eyes. But Robin hadn’t been sighted in weeks now, and he wasn’t injured. Tim - there was a new vigilante in Bludhaven, he recalled. He’d seen an article on it, though he hadn’t really read it. Bludhaven wasn’t far from here.

He made a mental note to look into that later, try to find some pictures, but for now he could enjoy the moment.

A few minutes later, Dick shifted. “Hey, Timmy? Could you point me towards the bathroom?” Tim started to get up, ready to show him the way, but Dick shook his head. “Nah, I got it. Just give me some directions, wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

Tim frowned a little. “Down the hall, third door on the right. You sure?”

“Yep. Settle down, I’ll be back.” Dick smiled, and it was practically a ray of sunshine, and more soothing than it had any right to be. Tim didn’t move as he left the room, then rolled on his side to face Jason.

“So. Thoughts?”

“Dunno. Tolerable. Doesn’t seem to be an asshole. Kinda annoying though.” Jason shrugged, but that was a ringing endorsement from Jason, who was suspicious and disliked everyone by default. “There’s somethin’ I gotta ask, though.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Why are you so happy he’s here? I mean, he seems nice or whatever, but I know you. You’re fucking ecstatic right now. Maybe the happiest I’ve seen you. What’s up with that? I didn’t think you were all about high society and that bullshit, but he is the son of some super rich asshole, and -”

“No,” Tim said, cutting him off and shaking his head. “That’s not it. I’ll tell you later. Promise.” Ew. As if Tim was excited because Dick had influence or whatever and not because he was/had been Robin. This was the best day of his life.

Robin was watching a movie with him.

Robin was watching a movie with him.

Tim was not going to freak out. He was super calm, like Dick was super nice and friendly and didn’t seem to be put off by Tim at all.

Jason grumbled a little bit, asked again, but let it go eventually. Dick hadn’t paused the movie, nor had he asked them to, so Tim didn’t feel that guilty about letting it keep playing, especially because Jason seemed invested. He’d probably be annoyed if Tim paused it.

A few minutes later, Dick came back and slotted himself back into place. Tim exhaled slowly and smiled. What a stroke of luck. He got to hang out with Jason and Dick, the best people Tim knew (of) and watch a good movie.

Thank God he fell off of that fire escape. Or got mugged. Or bribed that Uber driver into helping him drag Jason home. Or taken Jason’s measurements to the best of his ability while he was sleeping. Or - yeah, Tim’s morally dubious decisions had paid off.

Now he just had to figure out how to give Jason the phone he’d gotten without setting him off.

For now, though, his eyelids were getting heavy, which was stupid because he’d slept a full five hours the night before, but it was warm and soft and - Tim closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Tim had been delighted to find Dick still there when he woke up. He was less delighted to be woken up by the sound of smoke alarms. He groaned and rolled out of bed. Literally. He landed with a thud and laid there for a moment, wondering why the hell there was a smoke alarm going off, probably from the kitchen. Jason and Dick had both left the room at some point, so Tim heaved himself to his feet to deal with it. Ugh, he was tired.

Tim headed for the kitchen first, and, sure enough, the sound got louder the closer he got. Great. Dick was probably gone by now, which meant either someone had decided to break in and set the kitchen on fire, or Jason had fucked up making - Tim tried to remember what time it was - dinner? Yeah, dinner. He sighed as he went down the stairs and smelled smoke. “How did you fuck up?” he called, and heard a guilty laugh that - wasn’t Jason.

Was that Dick? Tim practically sprinted down the rest of the stairs and skidded around the corner into the kitchen, where he saw Dick, furiously trying to stop smoke from a pot on the stove. Jason was standing a few feet away, gesturing wildly and saying something incoherent. Dick’s face was one of pure panic.

Tim stood there for a long moment. What the hell?

“What’s going on?” he managed to say, and somehow they both heard him over the smoke alarm going off and Jason’s half-shouting.

“Look what you did now!” Jason said, pointing accusatorily at Dick with a scowl. “You woke him up! He already doesn’t sleep enough, and you have to go disturb whatever precious sleep he does manage to get. I hope you’re fucking happy, asshole.”

“I -”

“I’m sorry,” Dick looked desperate. “I was just trying to make pasta for you guys to thank you for the movie and it was the only thing I could find and then I turned away for like a minute and it was smoking and the alarm started to go off!”

“How -”

“You’re an idiot! Move over and stop making it worse.” Jason shoved Dick to the side, who looked like he’d just seen a bomb go off. “I can’t believe we ever let you inside,” he grumbled, and started going off under his breath. Tim couldn’t even hope to decipher it.

Dick looked at him guiltily, mouth twisted in a grimace. “I’m really sorry, Tim, I just wanted to make you something as a ‘thank you’, and I thought pasta couldn’t be that hard, right? But I messed up and now Jason’s pissed at me.” Behind him, Jason flipped Dick off before he hauled the pot into the sink to drown it in water.

“You’re an idiot,” Jason said again, sounding pissed off, but not the way he got when he was really angry, just annoyed.

“It’s okay.” Tim was fighting a smile at the look on Dick’s face, like a kicked puppy.

Apparently, not even Robin - well, maybe not anymore - was perfect. Which reminded him - he’d told Jason he would tell him what had gotten him excited with Dick there. And that presented a problem for future-Tim, because was he really willing to disclose the identities of Batman and Robin? Even to Jason, who Tim - trusted maybe more than anyone else.

It was stupid, because Tim had parents, people he’d known his whole life, his mom and dad, and somehow - he felt closer to Jason than he ever had with them. Tim could think about that later.

“Jason usually makes stuff if we cook,” Tim admitted with a wry smile. Tim was, to quote Jason, ‘an absolute disgrace in the kitchen and an example of why we can’t trust rich people to parent,’ and forbidden from cooking by Jason’s orders. Even though it was Tim’s kitchen. Tim didn’t cook.

Dick’s eyes narrowed for a split-second, but it vanished so fast Tim was half-convinced he imagined it. “He seems to have an idea of what he’s doing, yeah.”

“Unlike you,” Jason spat, sending another glare Dick’s way. Dick’s lips twitched in a repressed smile.

“Unlike me.” Dick nodded, accepting the shame of being unable to cook a pot of pasta. Tim agreed. “Alfie’s banned me from the kitchen.”

“Jason’s banned me too,” Tim said sympathetically.

Dick raised his eyebrow. “Isn’t this your house?”

“Yeah, but he lives here too, and -”

“Timbers keeps setting the kitchen on fire.” Jason snorted. “Guess I’m making dinner. Tim, you ordered the groceries, right?”

Tim nodded. “They should be delivered soon.”

Jason sent Tim a sharp look, which was quite frankly rude. Tim ordered the groceries! Usually Mrs. Mac did it, but he’d asked to do it for himself, and she hadn’t been too bothered by it, probably taking it as a sign that Tim was getting mature or whatever.

Dick looked between them for a few seconds. “Cool.” The smoke alarm finally stopped going off, and the silence suddenly felt a lot more silent. Tim sighed, grateful. “So. Whatcha making, Jay?”

“Jason.” Jason crossed his arms irritably. Tim tried not to smile.

“Whatcha making, Jason?”

“Nothing for you.”

“Jason!”

When Tim woke up the next morning, Dick was gone. It wasn’t a surprise. He’d stayed for dinner, and Tim hadn’t been able to convince himself to ask when he was leaving. Tim let him use one of the guest rooms when he asked, and Tim was still fighting the battle of Jason getting his own room instead of sharing his. He’d gotten a mattress so Jason didn’t have to sleep on the floor, but sometimes when one of them had a nightmare, they would find themself in the other’s bed.

Tim had been wondering when Dick was going to leave, and he got his answer. Tim didn’t mope when he wandered into the kitchen, but Jason gave him a flat look anyway.

“What’s wrong, Timbits?”

“Nothing.” Tim shrugged.

Jason narrowed his eyes, practically radiating his disbelief. Tim found that rude; he didn’t lie! Well, sometimes. Okay, a lot, but those were all reasonable and well-intentioned lies! Jason should have more faith in him. “Like I believe that.”

“Believe me or don’t, because it’s true. I’m fine.”

“You’re sulking is what you are. C’mere, lemme look at you. Figure out all your secrets. Eyes are the window to the soul.” Jason reached out to snag Tim’s shirt and tug him closer, staring at him intently.

Tim shifted under the weight of his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek. “Who told you that?”

“William Shakespeare. Are you - seriously that bummed out that Dick is gone? Really? He’s nice and all, even if a fuckin’ disaster in the kitchen, but I didn’t think you’d be this upset.” Jason’s expression was concerned now, and Tim wanted to move away from it, but he couldn’t. “What is it about him, anyway? You said you’d tell me.”

Tim had - said that, yeah, but it was Robin’s secret identity, and Batman’s to match, because Jason wasn’t an idiot, and it wasn’t hard to figure out once you had one of them. “Yeah, I did,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own feet.

“So? C’mon, it can’t be that bad if you like him. I have - actually, no, I don’t have much faith in your judging of character, but it’s nothin’.” Jason leaned against the counter, voice coaxing.

Tim bit down on his cheek again, because was he seriously going to give up the secret identities of Batman and Robin to some random kid? But - it was Jason, and Tim himself was a random kid. It wasn’t - maybe people knew and just never talked about. Jason wouldn’t - “Do you promise not to tell anyone? Ever?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“Promise,” Tim said again. “You have to promise.” Tim thought Jason would keep his word; he’d never lied to Tim before, or that Tim knew of.

“Jesus, kid, what are you going to tell me?” Jason seemed increasingly concerned, but Tim could see the glint of curiosity in his eyes. “I promise not to tell anyone.”

Tim shifted awkwardly, because he was about to reveal the secret identities of Batman and Robin. To someone he met two months ago. But it was Jason. “Dick Grayson is - he was - you know how I used to take pictures of Batman and Robin?”

Suspicion was growing, but Jason didn’t jump to the conclusion, which Tim found a little annoying, because now he had to explain. “Yeah, I remember. What’s that got to do with Dick?”

Tim exhaled slowly. He was pretty sure that Jason was connecting the dots, judging by the look on his face, but was waiting for confirmation. Tim would - Tim would give it to him. “Dick is - was, I think - Robin. That’s why I was so excited, because Robin is my hero and he was in my house, and - yeah.”

“That trainwreck of a human being was Robin?

“Yeah,” Tim said, dropping his gaze. “I figured it out.”

“Does that make - fuckin’ Bruce Wayne?” Jason sounded outraged, and when Tim chanced a glance up at him, his expression watched, jaw slightly agape. “Him?”

“You have to admit, it’s a good cover.” Tim was - the reaction was kind of gratifying, and so was Jason’s assumption that he’d figured it out on his own, because - most people would’ve asked who told him. And Jason hadn’t, and he’d been right.

“I mean, I guess he’s got the right build for it -” Jason was ignoring Tim a little, but it was probably fine, “- and the funds to keep that shit going, but still - how’d you figure it out?”

Tim had been waiting to tell someone about this since he was nine. This was great, no regrets from him. “It’s actually super cool and I couldn’t even tell anyone because no one knew and now you know - please don’t tell anyone - I can say it! So, basically, when I was three, I went to the circus with my parents, and I saw Dick Grayson there with his parents. It was saying how they were the only three people in the world who could do a quadruple flip, and -”

Tim kept rambling, and Jason kept listening. Occasionally he’d interrupt with a question or remark, but mostly he just looked at Tim and listened. Tim wasn’t really used to it. Eventually, he ran out of words to say and let out a heavy sigh. At some point Jason had dragged him over to the kitchen table to sit down, and made waffles in the toaster while Tim had talked. Now he set one in front of Tim and sat next to him with his own.

“That’s fuckin’ wild, Timbers. I definitely wouldn’t’ve made that connection, but it makes sense. Now eat your waffle, you tiny genius.” Jason ruffled his hair, a little aggressive.

Tim beamed and leaned into his hand as he picked up his waffle. “I had to look up Youtube videos of the Graysons to check, but yeah!” He took a bite, muffling his next words. “‘M not a genius, just got lucky.”

Jason elbowed him, scowling at him. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. Who taught you manners, you little shit?”

“My parents,” he said guilelessly, “but it doesn’t matter when they’re not here.”

“That is so not how it works. I hate your parents more every time you talk about them.”

Tim scowled and stood. “My parents are paying for your education,” he pointed out.

“I still don’t know how you managed that.” Jason’s eyes followed Tim was he got a glass from one of the cabinets.

“They probably won’t notice. Even if they do, I’ll tell them the tuition fee just went up.” That was a lie. It was coming from the account his parents’ secretary had set aside for his personal spending. It was sweet of her, but he didn’t exactly go to the mall. He’d only really used it to replace his laptop and camera. It was much better spent this way.

“Fuckin’ rich people,” Jason said scathingly, and Tim hid his smile as he turned on the sink and filled his glass. He startled when Jason shoved himself out of his chair, rushing to Tim as he went to take a sip. “Tim, what the fuck are you doing?”

Tim looked at him slowly. “Drinking water? Are you okay? Like, it’s just -”

“This is Gotham. You can’t just drink tap water. It’s full of all sorts of nasty chemicals and stuff - do you even know how often Rogues go for the water supply? Didn’t your parents tell you that shit? Bottled water or nothing, Timbellina. Now pour it out.”

Carefully, Tim did as he was told. “Jason, are you kidding? It can’t be that bad -”

“Believe me, it can be. Even the street kids were careful with that shit. Seriously, your parents never told you not to drink the water? It’s practically a Gotham right-of-passage.”

Tim gave Jason a flat look and opened the fridge to get bottled water. “No, they didn’t. I still think you’re overreacting.”

“Do ya? How many times has the Joker messed with the water supply? Or Poison Ivy? Or Scarecrow?” Jason raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Okay, he had a point. “A lot,” Tim said grudgingly. “But I’ve always had tap water and nothing bad happened to me! I’m perfectly normal!”

Jason outright laughed. Laughed. Tim had never been so offended in his life. He wasn’t that weird! Jason didn’t have to laugh at him! “Timtam, you’re the weirdest kid I’ve ever met.”

“That’s not fair! You barely know anyone.” Tim crossed his arms irritably and took a slow, drawn out sip of water, glaring at Jason.

“I know people! I know plenty of people, brat. You’re just the only privileged brat I have the honor of calling my - no, fuckin’ no, not saying that.” Jason cut himself off abruptly.

“Say what? Tell me.” Anything to distract from - life.

“No,” Jason said with no room for argument.

Tim smiled. He always did love a challenge.

As it turned out, Jason’s mystery phrase hadn’t even been that bad. Just jokingly calling Tim his sugar daddy, which was weird, and why Jason hadn’t wanted to say it, but it could’ve been way weirder. Like drinking tap water apparently was. Tim was still - not sulking, he didn’t sulk - a little upset that Dick was gone. Not upset with him for leaving, because he’d been way nicer than he needed to in staying, but just - missing him seemed stupid.

“You know, it really wasn’t that nice of him to stay. ‘S not like he was doin’ you some huge favor. He was havin’ fun too, y’know. No one was forcing him to stay.” Jason’s opinion was utterly unhelpful, by the way.

“He was just being polite,” Tim said with a sigh. “He was probably annoyed.”

“Most people don’t fail to make dinner for someone they’re annoyed with.” Jason’s voice was unimpressed. Tim couldn’t relate.

He huffed and buried his face in his pillow. Jason patted his back mockingly. “There, there, tiny Tim. You’ll survive.”

“Stop being a jerk.”

Jason scoffed from somewhere above him. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” He stilled as the doorbell rang. “Seriously? If it’s the fuckin’ CPS, I’m running.”

“Same.” Tim’s parents had given him a stern lecture on that once. They’d said that even though Tim was their son, some people might try to take him away, and he was to not let them. “You’re answering.”

“The hell I am. You’re the one who’s shitty parents own this house. Go on. Get. I’ll hide in the living room if it makes ya feel any better.” Jason pushed Tim out of the bed until he fell with a dull thud.

Tim groaned, pushing himself up. “Fine. I hate you. Do that.”

Jason grinned and gestured for him to go first. Reluctantly, with much reluctance, as reluctant as one could be, Tim stood and went down the stairs to answer the door. Maybe if he was lucky they’d have given up by now. Tim entertained that hope until the door rang again right before he got there. Tim grumbled wordlessly - Jason probably hadn’t even gone downstairs - and opened it.

Dick Grayson’s smiling face was the first thing he saw. “Hey, Timmy! Long time no see!”

The next thing Tim saw was the duffle bag in Dick’s hand. “Is there a body in there?” he said, entirely on autopilot, even though Dick had been Robin and was currently Nightwing - Tim had found a few shaky videos online, and the build and fighting style matched - and didn’t kill people.

Luckily, Dick just chuckled. “Not this time. Where’s Jay?”

Tim barely managed to hold back ‘hiding from CPS.’ “Oh, around. Somewhere in the house. What are you doing back so soon?”

“Do you want me to go?” Dick’s eyes widened, just a hair, and Tim thought he could see a hidden hurt in his face. “I mean, obviously I can, and I would hate to intrude, but -”

“No! No, you’re definitely welcome!” Tim said with perhaps too much desperation. Of course he wanted Dick here. He just - didn’t want to interrupt the important things he did. “We can go inside?”

“Sounds good to me.” Dick followed Tim inside, keeping his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “How’s school going? You’re in ninth grade, yeah? Pretty advanced for an eleven year old.”

“I’m turning twelve soon,” Tim said, but silently basked in the way Dick actually seemed impressed. “Jason! Come down!”

Dick smiled. “Sure. Still pretty advanced.”

Tim was just in absolute awe at his luck. Not only had Dick Grayson spent the night at his house, he’d come back, and actually seemed to enjoy talking to Tim. He was probably a good actor, but Tim could let himself have that, at least. And he was actually nice. Tim knew a lot of times ‘meeting your heroes’ ended badly, but Dick seemed like a person now, more than ever, and he was still so kind and cheerful and funny.

“Please leave the kitchen alone this time,” Tim said instead of expressing his utter delight.

Dick laughed. Tim had made Dick laugh. Best day ever. Or maybe yesterday. Tim had difficulty deciding. “If only so Jason doesn’t go off on me.”

“And I will.” Jason appeared like he’d been summoned, leaning against the doorframe and glaring suspiciously at Dick. After a long moment, it was like Dick had passed some test, and the hostility faded. “It’s a nice kitchen, and ya nearly fucked it up.”

“My bad. Shouldn’t you guys be studying or something? You have school tomorrow, right?”

“Tomorrow is a Monday, yeah.” Tim hadn’t known Jason could sound that condescending. He sent Jason a sharp look, which Jason ignored because he was a bitch.

“Cool. Let me tell you, I do not miss school.” Dick huffed out a laugh, and Tim pouted. He wished he didn’t have to go to school. It wasn’t even useful! He already knew most of the stuff anyway, and if he didn’t already, he didn’t need to.

“You just graduated, right?” Tim said like it hadn’t been all over the tabloids - a not so subtle hint that Brucie Wayne’s handsome young ward was now legal.

“If by ‘just’ you mean last school year, yeah. Actually, it’s almost been a year. Cool. Remember, kids, stay in school and don’t do drugs.”

Jason gave him a scathing look. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. At least this school won’t be unceremoniously shut down ‘cause some assholes in the council decided no one needed it.”

Dick winced, looking like he regretted starting this conversation. “Yeah. There’s that.”

“So,” Tim said. “I heard you were a mathlete.”

Dick grinned. “That’s true. What’s up?”

“How fast can you solve this Algebra problem neither of us can figure out?”

“Less than five minutes, obviously. Give, time to flex on what my adoptive father forced me into. Something about ‘new hobbies’ and ‘adjusting to your academic career’ and ‘making new friends.’”

“What an asshole,” Jason said, his fucking weird aggression not aimed at Dick anymore, thankfully. Just Tim’s other hero.

“Such an asshole.” Dick smiled at Jason. “You got any clubs?”

“I’m in theater, if that counts. So does Timtella, but he’s the nerdy kind.”

Dick snorted. “Pretty sure they’re all the nerdy kind. You should tell me about what you guys are doing!”

Grudgingly, with much grudge, as grudging as one could be, Jason started to talk about the play they were doing for the end of the year. And kept talking. Until it was an entire rant, accompanied with violent hand-gestures. Dick smiled and Tim watched, both of them quiet. This was - good, Tim thought.

Three weeks later, and Dick was still there. He’d never really announced that he was moving in or just, what, vacationing? But he hadn’t really left, and it wasn’t like Tim minded, and there was plenty of room. Tim’s home had never been less empty and Tim adored it. Dick left in the afternoons, usually a bit after Jason and Tim got home from school, and didn’t come back until late at night. He said it was because he worked night shifts, but both Tim and Jason knew it was him going out as Nightwing. Sometimes he came back with a limp, or concealed bruises on his face and arms. Jason and Tim said nothing.

Sunday morning, around eleven o’clock, found all three of them sitting around the dining table in various states of disarray. Jason was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, and had lovingly provided sustenance for everyone with plenty of vitriol. Tim was drowning in one of Dick’s hoodies, blinking heavily but awake. Dick had woken up five minutes before. Regardless, he was helping Tim and Jason with their homework, looking incredibly drowsy.

Not drowsy enough to stop him from cooing at Tim when he saw him in the oversized hoodie, though.

Someone’s phone started ringing. Tim didn’t even check if it was his. No one called him but Jason, who had his own phone. Just to make sure Tim didn’t get into trouble, according to Jason. Dick groaned and dug through the pockets of his pajama pants until he found it. Then he groaned louder.

“It’s Bruce,” he said by way of explanation, and Tim winced in sympathy. They’d heard stories of overbearingness, and it checked out from what Tim knew about Batman.

Then Dick smiled and put a finger to his lips. “Listen to this, and don’t talk.” Before Tim could question it, Dick was answering the phone and putting it on speaker. “What do you want?” Dick asked, voice annoyed, but his eyes gleamed.

“Why do I need to want something to talk to you?” Bruce Wayne, Batman, father and current nemesis of Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, spoke from over the phone, voice a little sharp. Tim could hear him sigh. “I just wanted to check in on you.”

“Alfred made you call me,” Dick said with the air of someone who knew exactly what they were talking about, nodding. Ouch. Brutal.

Tim’s working theory was that Agent A - who he’d never figured out but was mentioned often by the local nightlife - was in fact Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne’s Butler who Dick held in high regards. Higher by far than Mr. Wayne himself.

“I - he suggested it. I just worry about you, Dick, you’re young to -”

Dick scowled, and Tim set his hand on his arm. Well. His hoodie paw ish. The scowl loosened into a small smile. Tim was doing great. “Fuck off. That means he told you to. Again, what do you want?”

“How is Bludhaven, Dick?”

Dick looked around Drake Manor, in Bristol. Gotham. “Fine. Gotham’s not falling under the weight of your guilt-complex?”

Tim could hear Mr. Wayne sigh. The was some shuffling on the other line. “No. It’s not. And your night shifts?”

Tim wasn’t surprised that they didn’t talk about it over just any phone call, probably why Dick did this in the first place, knowing nothing would be revealed. If Batman outright said he was Batman over a call, it wasn’t too difficult to hack it. They probably only discussed it in codes, like this, or over a secure line.

Tim was learning Bat code words. ‘Night shift’ equaled ‘being a hero.’

“I’m sure you already know,” Dick said with perhaps too much bite if he was trying to not give anything away to Tim and Jason. Jason met Tim’s eye and raised his eyebrows. Tim shrugged.

Mr. Wayne sighed again, and Dick’s expression was stormy. “I’ll take that as you’re running into too much trouble. Good. I know it can be hard -”

“Don’t.” Dick narrowed his eyes, and Tim got the feeling he was done with the conversation and the fun of lying. Tim nudged him gently, and Dick gave him a smile that was a little fake, and a kiss to the forehead. Tim blinked.

What.

Jason snickered, and Dick shot him a glare, but it was too late. “What was that?”

“What, me laughing? Maybe you haven’t heard it before, since you’re intent on making everyone around you miserable.” Dick was still glaring at Jason, who lifted his hands in the air, still holding back a laugh.

“No -” Mr. Wayne didn’t seem convinced, “- that’s not what you sound like. Dick, who are you with?”

“No one,” Dick snapped. “Why can’t you just believe me? Why would I lie to you about someone being here?”

Maybe because he essentially moved in with his old neighbors and continued to act like he lived in Bludhaven, Tim thought with no lack of amusement. Tim was just cool like that.

Mr. Wayne sighed again. How many times was that? Tim should’ve been keeping count. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that I just want you to stay safe, and If I don’t know what’s -”

“I don’t need you to keep me safe,” Dick hissed, eyes flashing.

Tim thought he never intended for the conversation to get quite so emotional. By wordless agreement, he and Jason remained silent, and did nothing to draw Dick’s attention or warn Mr. Wayne that there were eavesdroppers. He just - obviously Dick and Mr. Wayne’s relationship had been rocky, from their split as Batman and Robin, to Dick moving to an entirely different city,

He’d just never witnessed it between them.

“You’re still young, Dick! You don’t know everything you think you do, and you could get hurt! And if you get hurt because I wasn’t looking out for you, who’s fault is that?”

“It’s mine,” Dick said, low and furious. “Because I’m an adult, and I can make my own fucking decisions!”

Tim didn’t flinch, didn’t move at all, but - it was the first time he’d heard Dick sound so angry, and one of the few times he’d heard him curse, though Tim got the feeling that the latter was more about Tim and his age than any reservations Dick had on swearing.

“Dick -” Mr. Wayne’s voice was getting louder, and Dick stilled, glancing at Tim, “- you’re reckless and headstrong and it makes you think that you know everything, but you don’t, and -” Even louder now.

Dick cut him off quickly. “We’re done. Tell Alfred I said hi.” He hung up before Bruce could respond, and sighed. “I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t expect that to turn into a fight so fast.”

Tim shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Jason said nothing, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulders, but he didn’t look too angry, so it was probably okay.

“It’s really not. I don’t know, I was tired and I thought, ‘This’ll be funny, give the kids a sneak peak at Bruce Wayne while I lie to his face.’ That’s not how it turned out, though.” Dick dragged his hands over his face and looked back at the math problem like it would bring them all salvation. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Your dad sounds like an asshole,” Jason said, quite suddenly. Dick nodded, opening his mouth, but Jason kept going. “He also sounds like he really cares about you. Trust me, I’ve met my share of deadbeat fathers, and that’s not one of them.”

“Still an asshole, though,” Tim added, and Jason nodded.

“Still an asshole.”

Dick sighed again, and Tim noticed for the first time how similar it sounded to Mr. Wayne’s sigh. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Not the point, though. You guys shouldn’t have had to listen to my shitty argument with Bruce.”

“Whatever.” Jason shrugged. “Just solve this, Mr. Mathlete, so I don’t fail this class.”

Bruce wasn’t worried. He was not overly-concerned, no matter what Alfred had to say on the matter. He was merely wary of his eighteen year old moving out on his own when he’d barely graduated and didn’t even have a guaranteed job, not to mention everything with Nightwing. He was in an entirely different city, absent of other heroes to help. If he got hurt, there would be no backup to be found.

Bruce’s caution was perfectly justified, and no matter how furious Dick grew when he brought it up, that would not change. Bruce had been older than him when he became Batman, if only by two years, and he’d been training for - granted, around the same amount of time Dick had been training for, and out in the field for more, but it wasn’t the same. Dick was a child still, despite being eighteen, because that was merely semantics. For God’s sake, he couldn’t even drink legally, though he may have done it anyway, judging by his recent string of rebellions.

He was young, and he didn’t know better, and he refused to listen to Bruce no matter what he said, stubborn and temperamental as he’d always been. Bruce had seen that spark in him as a young child, and he saw it now, but Dick wasn’t ready.

And he was living in Bludhaven on his own anyways. Bruce hadn’t seen his son in a month and a half, and the absence dug into his heart like a blade, sharp, jagged edges. Bruce had been heavily encouraged/ordered by Alfred to call him, ask him how he was doing, and ‘perhaps invite him over for brunch, Master Bruce.’ That had not gone as planned.

Dick denied anyone else being there, but Bruce knew exactly what Dick sounded like when he laughed, the way it had deepened over the years from the high-pitched delight of early Robin days, but not changed. The giggles, the snorts, the breathless laughter from his chest. That had been none of those, and Bruce knew.

Dick lied to him. Often. Bruce was an expert at telling truths from dishonesty, but Dick had gotten nearly as good over the years at hiding the truth, and sometimes things got past him. Two lies had not escaped Bruce’s notice, though one nearly did. Bludhaven was not fine, in fact, but it didn’t sound like Dick was lying about being fine - it sounded like he was lying about Bludhaven. Bruce was intimately familiar with the casual, polite lying of small talk, the ‘how are you?’s and the ‘I’m doing fine’s. That wasn’t the lie Dick told.

And of course, the fact that someone else was with him. Those may be connected.

Bruce sighed, a long exhale through his nose. Dick would be furious with him if he knew what Bruce was about to do. Normally, he would call Barbara to do this, since she was more efficient than he was, could do it in half the time, but she would be just as angry as Dick was. But it was necessary, both for Bruce’s peace of mind - or at least, the illusion of it, as Bruce was never at peace - and Dick’s safety.

Bruce didn’t hesitate to trace the call, though. It was more than long enough for it, and Bruce’s trackers weren’t yet hidden in Dick’s Nightwing suit as was intended. At least Nightwing itself was a well-done persona. It took him a few minutes, unpracticed - he really should do this more instead of handing it off to Oracle - but Bruce paused when he saw the location.

This couldn’t be true. Why would Dick be in Gotham, when he had left with such anger? In Bristol, no less, just a few mere miles from where Bruce was now, and - Drake Manor?

Why would Dick be in the house of people he’d hardly met, and didn’t at all like? Bruce narrowed his eyes. Who had been laughing in Drake Manor?

Bruce would find out.

Chapter Text

By the time the end of April rolled around, the three of them were - getting familiar. Tim knew that both Dick and Jason liked romance movies, but while Dick enjoyed the basic, same-story Hallmark movies, Jason’s favorite were heart-wrenching, emotional love stories that made Dick cry whenever they watched them together. He knew that Dick had a probably unhealthy love of cereal, specifically the really sugary kind that Jason told him would rot their teeth as they both ate it. He knew Jason liked pasta, because it was one of the only things his mom had made for him.

Maybe they were getting to know Tim too. The second his eyelids started to droop, one of them would usher him upstairs and sit with him until he drifted off, because they knew he hated being alone, made it hard to sleep.

At any rate, that made the betrayal even greater when Dick slid into a chair at the breakfast table - at some point, breakfast and sometimes dinner as a group became a thing, and Tim sort of liked it - and said they should go outside.

“I go outside all the time,” Tim grumbled, poking at the cinnamon rolls Jason made from the tin on the occasional Sunday.

“When? Like, when in the last week have you been outside for more than ten minutes.”

“I - when - shut up.”

“He’s got a point, Timberly.” Jason grinned, and Tim internally marked him down as a turncoat. A Benedict Arnold, one might say. A traitor.

“Come on! We’re just gonna go for a little walk, like a picnic! You’re too pale! I can make, like picnic food or whatever! I’ll Google it, it’ll be great - have some faith.” Dick was too excited about the potential of going on a walk and eating outside, Tim thought with disdain. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You’re not making shit,” Jason said with finality, shaking his head.

“Listen, I recognize your authority as supreme kitchen kid or whatever, but I think I can put together a sandwich without any fires.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Tim made a face, and Dick clutched at his chest.

“The betrayal. A dagger in my heart, etcetera etcetera. Too late, I’m the adult and I say we’re going.” Dick crossed his arms, a smug look on his face.

Tim widened his eyes innocently. Dick cooed. “This is my house and I say we’re not going.”

Silence. Dick looked him up and down, cautious. “Looks like we’re at a tie. Jason?”

Jason grinned, wide and victorious. “Let’s see here.” Tim glared at him, eyes narrowed. He better - “We’re goin’! Even if I have to drag ya.”

Tim was very unhappy with the decision, and staunchly said that this wasn’t a democracy, it was whatever the French had done pre-revolution. Spoiler alert: they killed a bunch of people at the end. Tim was willing to follow in their footsteps. He complained the entire walk, which went to places he’d never gone before on his property, because his mom got upset when he messed with the flower beds, and Tim never had been outdoorsy.

Dick was leading the charge, and got turned around on several occasions, usually accompanied by Jason insulting him with extreme prejudice. Tim just laughed.

Finally they settled into a nice clearing that Dick seemed familiar with, grass not too long, muted sunshine coming through the leaves. Tim mostly tuned out his chatter as they set up.

“This is stupid,” Tim said, grumbling and trying to keep his scowl on when Dick ruffled his hair.

“If that makes you feel better, Timmy. C’mon, we’re just enjoying our weekend, aren’t we?” Dick flopped dramatically on the blanket he’d brought ‘for authenticity’ with a smile, rolling onto his back and waving for Tim to come closer.

Tim stepped on him - lightly! It probably only hurt a little - on his way to sit cross-legged next to him. Jason flopped down beside Tim and dragged him close with one arm while Tim flailed, then settled, head leaned against Jason’s arm. Dick, predictably, cooed at them, and shoved the box they’d used as a picnic basket towards him.

“See! I have great ideas.”

“Debatable.”

“Nope, never,” Jason said at the same time. Tim snickered at the look on Dick’s face.

“After all I do for you two. Adult supervision, amazing ideas, unconditional love, kindness, all my hard work -”

“Wait.” Tim cut him off, frowning. “What was that middle part?”

“Amazing ideas? Just like this, Timmy! I always provide fun opportunities for you two children to learn and grow as individuals -”

“No, not that!” Tim huffed - was he doing that on purpose? Dick was maybe too good at avoiding things, enough that most of the time, Tim barely noticed - if he noticed at all. Tim was just - no way someone could -

“The unconditional love bit.” Jason to the rescue, apparently, hugging Tim closer. “That’s what the kid is on about.”

“I was going to tell him that!” Tim said, elbowing him but not pulling away. The touch felt too nice, even after months with Jason. “You’re so stifling, God, just let me -”

“What, unconditional love? Sure, Tim. You and Jason. I never had any siblings, but -” Dick shrugged, looking - nervous, more than Tim had really seen, “I see you guys like little brothers.”

“So sentimental,” Jason drawled, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, ya big softie, you’re our big brother or whatever.”

Tim was quiet. He - he thought that Dick had seen him as a friend, maybe, a kid who wasn’t too annoying, that he’d grown fond of but not attached to, because no one was attached to Tim, not now, not ever. But Dick had called him his little brother, no hesitation, like it was true, and Jason hadn’t even questioned it, like heM knew it was true, just - just accepted it.

Tim didn’t know.

“Tim?” Dick said softly. “Are you okay? I don’t want to force anything on you - it’s okay if you don’t feel like that, no one’ll be upset.”

“No, it’s - sorry.” Tim looked up at them, pulling his gaze from the grass. “I just didn’t think anyone could - would want to - me?”

“Yeah, you, dumbass. You fuckin’ - took me in because I helped you out once. You’re a fucking genius, kid, weird, and - Timbits, I love you. Y'know. Brotherly and whatnot.” Jason shrugged.

“Don’t make it weird, Jason,” Dick said.

“Shuddup. Anyway, you’re great. Totally little brother material. Stop looking at me, fucking hell.” Jason’s ears were turning red, and Tim’s smile was widening.

“We’re all judging you. Super harshly.” Tim nudged him with his shoulder, playful. “Uh - same to you I guess? Different reasons, but - brotherly love. Like, uh - Jason, give me a famous set of brothers.”

“Why aren’t you asking me? I know things! The - the Wright brothers! There. Brothers.” Dick smirked and sat up, clearly proud of himself.

“Those are only two brothers, dumbass,” Jason said. “There’s three of us. I can’t think of three brothers. Guess we’ll just have to be famous ourselves. Ugh. I hate famous people.”

Dick gasped. “You hate me? Jay, after that touching speech, you’re just going to hate on me like that? It’s not my fault my parents died and I got adopted by a rich asshole!”

“My parents are dead too. You’re not special.” Jason pulled the box closer and dug out a sandwich. “Peanut butter and jelly? What are you, five? C’mon, Dick.”

“Tim likes PB and J!”

“I like PB and J. Also, my parents aren’t dead.”

“Yet,” Jason said ominously. Tim elbowed him. “What? They suck!”

“They do not!” Tim scowled. “Just because they’re busy doesn’t mean they’re bad parents.”

“Tim,” Dick said gently, “your parents didn’t notice an entire kid moving into their house, and then an adult. They wouldn’t notice if you were gone until they got back. That’s dangerous.”

“No, it’s - stop! I don’t want to - can’t we - can we just eat? Please.” Tim sighed, and Jason and Dick deflated in unison.

“Sure, baby bird.” Dick smiled at him, and nudged the sandwich Jason had discarded towards him.

Baby bird? Tim frowned a little, but it sounded fond, and - robins were birds. Was this a Robin thing? Holy shit, that was so cool. Anyway.

Tim still hadn’t told Dick that he knew he was Nightwing and also who Batman was, but he was waiting for it to come up organically. Like, maybe when the news was reporting on something good Nightwing had done, maybe Tim could drop a, ‘Nice job,’ at Dick and see what happened. Jason was also holding his tongue, probably to force Tim to bring it up. Jerk.

Tim picked up the sandwich and examined it for a moment before taking a careful bite. It was fine. He shifted away from Jason to lay across the blanket. Jason snorted and crossed his ankles over the small of Tim’s back, because he was an asshole, but whatever. It was sunny and warm, and Tim felt safe. Dick ruffled his hair. “You know, I was hoping to get some more food in you, but I’ll accept a nap too.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, crossing his arms under his head. “I’m not napping. Just enjoying the sunlight.”

“Probably ‘cause you never go outside, so your little body is trying to soak up all the sun it can while you’re outside.” Jason poked his ribs, and Tim grumbled, shifting but not moving. “Aw, he’s like a little cat, Dick.”

“A baby cat,” Dick cooed.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘kitten,’ asshole. Leave me alone. Bother each other.” Tim huffed, but it turned into a content hum when Dick’s hand returned to his hair to card through it, gently scratching against his scalp.

Silence fell on them after that, the soft, comfortable kind where Jason and Dick ate and Tim fell into a pleasant, half-asleep state, eased by Dick’s hand in his hair and the steady weight of Jason’s legs on top of him.

Silence with Tim’s parents was always cold, a sort of punishment. It meant he’d done something wrong. This was just - natural, easy, like no one had anything to say and that was alright. Tim could be relaxed and quiet and no one would mind.

That peace was ruined some time later - it was a bit foggy, his perception drowsy - by an unfamiliar voice, deep and loud, and Tim’s eyes snapped open. It took him a moment to recognize the face - Bruce Wayne?

Jason was on his feet, defensive, and Dick was scrambling to stand in front of him, anger in his face. Tim froze for a moment as the words really hit.

“- you doing here, Dick? Who are they? Why would you -”

“Shut up!” Dick snapped, and Tim noticed he was blocking Mr. Wayne’s view of Jason almost entirely, like a shield. “Get out!”

Mr. Wayne glanced at Tim, then over Dick’s shoulder. “This is my property, Dick, and you know that. Not that you’re not allowed to be here, but - is that Timothy Drake?”

Tim flinched away from the weight of Mr. Wayne’s gaze on him. “I -” Oh my God, Batman recognizes me.

“And?” Dick said, cutting Tim off. Tim carefully got to his feet, like he was trying not to set anyone off. “What do you want, Bruce?”

“I want to know why you’re here with a nine year old -”

“Eleven,” Tim said automatically.

Mr. Wayne didn’t even pause, “- an eleven year old and a random teenager I’ve never met, when you were supposed to be in Bludhaven.”

“What, I can’t visit? Am I just not allowed to be here with my friends and enjoy the nice weather? Or is it easier to leave me in Bludhaven and ignore me?”

Mr. Wayne’s jaw clenched, and he looked like he was about to say something, but he looked at Tim and visibly calmed himself down. “No,” he said evenly, “that’s not it. But you haven’t come home in months, and I was wondering what changed. Who’s behind you?”

“No one.” Dick crossed his arms, his expression daring Mr. Wayne to challenge the obvious lie. Tim took a few steps back until he was partially behind Dick, next to Jason.

“Fuck you,” Jason said. Dick didn’t react, but Tim gave him a worried look. What was going on? He - why was Bruce Wayne - Batman, so cool - here?

Tim peered past Dick to see the way Mr. Wayne sighed. “We’re all going back to the Manor, and we’ll talk there. Mostly you, Dick.”

Dick lifted his chin, and Tim could really see now why those two had fought hard enough for Dick to move out into a new city at eighteen. “No. We’re leaving.”

“Alfred would be very upset to know that you were nearby and didn’t drop by to say hello and have a chat. He’d love your friends too, I’m sure. Since most adults are befriending eleven year olds.”

Tim wrinkled his nose, and said without thinking, “Don’t make it weird.” Wait. Shit. He hid behind Dick even more while Jason snickered, shoving him playfully.

Mr. Wayne was quiet for a moment, before Tim heard him talk. “That was who laughed on the call with you. Him. Who is that, Dick?”

“God, you’re so fucking obsessive, Bruce. Let it go! Why do you have to know everything I’m doing, all the time?” Dick exhaled sharply, and Tim could feel the proper fight about to break out, and he didn’t like it.

This wasn’t good. This really wasn’t good, and it was all Tim’s fault, because if he hadn’t fallen mostly asleep, they would’ve left by now. Great. Look what he did. Ruined the nice day they were having, even if he did get to see Batman up close as he argued with the former Robin.

“Because you’re my responsibility,” Mr. Wayne said stiffly. “We’re going back to the Manor. Alfred’s expecting you.”

“No he’s not. No way he knows we’re here.” Dick sounded a little unsure, though. Jason was glaring at Mr. Wayne over Tim’s shoulder.

“I would think you knew better than to underestimate him. Let’s go.” Mr. Wayne turned on his heel and started walking back. He didn’t even look behind him, like he knew Dick would follow.

That clearly angered Dick, who was muttering furiously under his breath, probably trying to keep Tim from hearing his bad language, as if Jason didn’t regularly cuss inanimate objects out when they didn’t work or were in his way. “You two should head back. I’ll go with him,” Dick said quietly.

“All three of you!” Mr. Wayne called, even though there was no way he could’ve heard them.

“Fuck that.” Jason glared at Mr. Wayne’s retreating figure. He hadn’t even reached the edge of the clearing. “Me and Timmers are goin’ home.”

“No.” Tim shook his head. “I’m going with Dick.”

“Baby bird,” That nickname again, “you really don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

“Nope. I’m going.” Tim was set on it. Maybe he’d find the Batcave or something. At any rate, Dick seemed like he would need emotional support, and also Batman.

Jason groaned. “Ugh. That means I’m going with you to make sure you don’t get up to nefarious shit. Fine. Fuckin’ field trip it is.” He started to march after Mr. Wayne, jaw set.

Tim smiled and trailed after him, with Dick reluctantly following at the end. Well. This would be interesting.

“So.” Bruce sat across from the three official brothers - they’d had the Brother Talk, it totally was official now - who were all bunched up at one end of the dining table. Bruce, the brooding asshole, sat alone. “You’re living at Drake Manor.”

“No,” Dick lied without hesitation. “Why would I be living at Drake Manor? I have an apartment in Bludhaven. And a job. You know, like an adult.”

Both of those things were true; he did have an apartment, and he did have a job, even if he didn’t live there. It was easier to pay for when he wasn’t paying for all the food. He’d felt guilty at first, before realizing it was coming straight from the funds of Tim’s shitty rich parents. Then he’d felt perfectly good about it.

“No, you’re not. I traced your phone call to Drake Manor, and the cameras on the edge of my driveway catch your car coming back and forth every day, so you weren’t just visiting your friends. Why?” Bruce was, as always, a stalkerish asshole.

“You traced the phone call? You can’t - you can’t just fucking do that, it’s called privacy. And watching my car from the road? That’s just creepy.” Dick couldn’t fucking do this. How had he underestimated the lengths Bruce was willing to go to to know what he was doing because he didn’t fucking trust him.

“It’s perfectly legal,” Bruce said mildly, like an asshole. “Don’t change the subject. Why are you living at Drake Manor with two children?”

“I’m not a kid,” Jason said irritably. Dick appreciated his support, and the ongoing lack of introduction. Why didn’t Bruce use his fucking detective skills to figure it out?

“You’re thirteen.” Bruce looked at him for a moment. “That makes you a child.”

“Guess that makes you an asshole,” Jason said. Something changed in Bruce’s expression, and he sighed. He didn’t pinch the bridge of his nose, though.

“Timothy -”

“Just Tim,” Tim said, then bit the inside of his cheek. It was probably because of his shitty parents. Dick knew he liked being called ‘Tim’ more. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Tim, is Dick staying with you?”

Shit. Bruce had to go and ask the kid, didn’t he, because he couldn’t just let it be. Tim’s eyes widened with obvious indecision, and Dick sighed. Fuck, he wanted to keep lying to Bruce’s face, but clearly Tim did not. “Timmy, it’s -”

“No,” Tim said in a lie that wasn’t clear to the average person, but Dick knew Bruce would catch on near-instantly. “He hasn’t.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched - did he just do the Bruce-equivalent of a smile? Jesus fuck. Dick was so done with this man. Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if his parents had paid the protection money. If he’d grown up in a circus, never met Bruce, never been Robin.

He never would’ve met Jason and Tim, though. That was worth something.

“Don’t bother, Tim,” Dick said wearily. “You can’t lie to a stalker.”

“It’s not stalking, Dick,” Bruce said, sighing and closing his eye briefly, like Dick was the unreasonable one here. “I’m just keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re safe. The - night shift can be pretty dicey sometimes.”

“I’ve been doing this since I was twelve!” Dick snapped, and he was aware that perhaps wasn’t the best for their cover, and Tim was a touch too smart for Dick to feel comfortable dropping hints - Jason was clever too, just less fond of sticking his nose into everything. But it had to be said - Dick had been doing this for a third of his life, had been Robin for years, and he could fucking handle himself.

“That doesn’t mean you’re ready -” Bruce cut himself off abruptly, not because he was self-aware enough to know he was wrong, obviously, because that would be far too much to ask. Dick wanted to leave. “Why are you staying at Drake Manor? Why aren’t the Drakes home?”

“They’re home!” Tim protested automatically.

“No, they’re not.” Bruce, the asshole, looked at Tim flatly.

Tim crossed his arms. “How do you know? Stalking them?” He looked surprised a moment later, like he hadn’t meant for that to come out, and muttered an apology.

Jason, who had been generally silent, watching with an air of distaste, snorted. “Damn, Timmers, you weren’t fuckin’ around.”

“Language,” Dick and Bruce said at the same time. God fucking dammit.

Dick scolded Jason for cursing in a joking way, because he wasn’t hypocrite. But Bruce was just a bitch.

Jason started laughing, and Tim did too, thought clearly trying to stifle it. God, Dick refused to turn into Bruce or anything like him. He grit his teeth when Bruce decided talking again was a good idea.

“I found their flight records -” Just like Dick had, fuck, “- and they’re not even in the country. Be honest with me, Tim.” Bruce set his hands on the table, and his voice was quiet, which Dick reluctantly approved of, because Tim did not react well to being shouted at, or just generally being the object of aggression that wasn’t playful.

Tim shifted, arms crossed. “They’re - they’re busy, Mr. Wayne. They have jobs.”

“Just Bruce,” Bruce said, because, fine, sometimes he got things right. “I have a job, too. I didn’t leave Dick alone for weeks at a time.”

“Yeah.” Dick snorted. “Like you were the model father, with - fucking everything.”

“The point stands.”

“Hey, assholes,” Jason said, cutting off what looked like Tim speaking. His arm was wrapped around Tim now, protective and pulling him close. “You ever thought you’re biased as hell? Dick’s got daddy issues like nobody’s business, and you’re a rich asshole who can’t raise a kid.”

“You,” Bruce said, like an accusation. Jason seemed unimpressed. “Who are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”

Dick wouldn’t deny it; he started wheezing. Come on, that shit was hilarious. Jason just threw an internet reference in Bruce’s face, and it was fucking iconic of him. Bruce looked like he very reluctantly was aware of the reference, probably because he made it his life’s goal to know fucking everything.

“I would.” Bruce’s expression was flat. “What’s your name?”

A long pause. Jason scowled. “Jason.”

“Jason,” Bruce said, and Dick’s expression matched Jason’s.

“Fuck you, Bruce,” Dick said.

“Dick.” Bruce sighed. “Just - listen to me. I know what’s best for you, and I’m trying to help you. Why would you live with two children, no adults present?”

“Because I am an adult, you bitch. I’m nearly nineteen. And Tim asked me to stay with him, and I said fucking yes, so two kids wouldn’t be unsupervised - that, and I like both of them. Neither of them think they’re better than me, or that they ‘know what’s best for me.’”

Okay, sure, Tim hadn’t asked him to stay, per se, but he’d allowed it with enthusiasm, and Dick knew now that he was more than happy with it. What was Bruce going to do, demand evidence?

“That doesn’t mean - Jason. Why were you there, Jason?”

“Because Timtac was runnin’ his own little motel, apparently. He also invited me to stay, like an idiot.” Jason didn’t elaborate on how they met, and fine, Dick didn’t actually know either, because Tim was really good at deflecting. Plus, unlike some people, Dick didn’t stick his nose where it wasn’t welcome.

Bruce looked like he wanted to ask further, but refrained. “How long?”

“Three months,” Tim said, still tucked against Jason. “It’s been going great. He’s in school and everything.”

“Reluctantly.” Jason nudged Tim playfully, before realizing he had company. It was adorable.

Bruce sighed slowly. “Why don’t you boys stay with me a for a while? All of you,” he said, cutting Dick’s protest off. “While we get this sorted out.”

“What do you mean, ‘sorted out’?” Dick looked at Bruce suspiciously. He probably wanted Dick to move in full-time or something, and do something equally shitty to Dick’s little brothers - he had little brothers, as in plural - and ruin the perfectly wonderful arrangement they had.

“You can’t really think this is sustainable. Maybe Tim and Jason, but you, Dick? You know better. You can’t do this forever, and - Jason, do you even have parents?”

“None of your business,” Jason said, while Dick thought.

He - really, he’d never thought it would last, in the back of his mind. He’d hoped - it had to stay, it had to, because Dick couldn’t go back to living alone, scraping up enough money for rent and food that he could barely cook. He refused to take money from Bruce, had since he left, but it sucked, and adding Nightwing on top left Dick - it left him tired. Really tired

“That’s a no.” Dick only distantly heard Bruce, too - he couldn’t - fuck.

“Just because your parents died doesn’t mean everyone else’s did.” Jason rolled his eyes, leaning back, even though Dick was pretty sure his parents were dead.

Bruce sighed again, eyes closed briefly. “You’re from Crime Alley.” It wasn’t a question. “I can hear it in your voice. Chances are if you’ve been living with Tim unnoticed for three months, your parents are either dead, in prison, or highly neglectful.”

“Stereotypin’, are ya now? Shame on you.” Jason scowled, and Tim copied him. So fucking cute. God, Dick really had scored in the little brother department.

“I know, little wing. He’s an asshole.”

“What did you just call me? Fuckin’ little wing? Nope. Don’t like that.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it? Too bad.”

“Homeless,” Bruce said, ignoring that little interaction. “Am I right?”

“No,” Jason muttered, clearly a lie.

“Stop harassing a kid, Bruce.” Dick glared at him. “Get to the goddamn point.”

“Stay with me. All of you. We have room, and you can’t just live by yourselves. Dick living by himself was pushing it, but an eleven year old and thirteen year old, even if supervised by a barely legal adult, can’t.” Bruce looked at all three of them expectantly.

“I’m actually fourteen. Also, fuck no.”

“An eleven year old and a fourteen year old,” Bruce amended. “Also, Tim, your parents aren’t - up to the standards of parenthood. You really shouldn’t be left at home by yourself overnight at this age, let alone weeks, months, at a time. They haven’t even noticed two other people in your house.”

Tim had tensed the moment Bruce mentioned his parents, and Dick was selfishly grateful that he didn’t have to be the only one to tell Tim this, that even though Bruce was an asshole, he was right in this particular instance. Just this once.

“I - they love me,” Tim said, and Dick felt like - he didn’t know. He just wanted Tim to feel better.

“I’m sure they do, chum,” Bruce said gently, and he was breaking out the affectionate nicknames, was he? “But that doesn’t mean they’re taking care of you like they should. I - we’re ending this conversation for now.”

That was one of the few points Dick agreed on, because Tim was clearly overwhelmed, and it wouldn’t help to keep pushing. “Well,” he said, standing. “I’m off to Bludhaven.”

“No, you’re not.” Bruce didn’t even stand, like only his words would keep Dick in place. “We’ve agreed on this.”

“No. You said it was going to happen, and no one else agreed. That’s pretty one-sided of you.” Dick raised his eyebrow, arms crossed in silent challenge.

“I’m your father, Dick.” Bruce still didn’t move. “You’re staying, and so are Tim and Jason.”

“That’s what you think,” Dick snapped, and he didn’t feel guilty for the minute twitch that was Bruce’s equivalent of a flinch. He didn’t. “Tim, Jay?” Jason stood without hesitation, but Tim shifted, looking undecided. “He said -”

“I know what he said, Timmy. We’re leaving anyway.” Dick gestured for him to come closer, and - no, yeah, he definitely felt guilty for the look on Tim’s face. “It’s okay, baby bird.”

“Not to be the bearer of bad news, but I am both morally and legally obliged to call CPS if Tim and Jason are with you, someone who was not authorized by either of their parents, and also barely an adult. And that would bring up the whole issue with Tim’s parents as well.” Bruce looked between them. “Stay the night. We can talk more in the morning.”

“I - Dick, please.” Tim closed his eyes for a moment, and Dick would do anything to wipe that look off his face, replace it with something - less raw. He was a kid, he shouldn’t have been feeling like that.

“Yeah, Timbers. You’re okay, ya hear me?” Jason sat without hesitation, drawing him close and glaring viciously at Bruce, a contrast to the softness in Bruce’s when he looked at the two of them. Fuck him anyway.

Dick sat down with significantly more resentment. “Fine, asshole. Threaten kids, why don’t you?”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t a threat, Dick. Tim, we’ll figure this out, okay? No one’s mad at you or Jason.”

“Promise?” Tim said in a shaky voice, then immediately looked down. “I -”

“Promise,” Bruce said, nodding. “I promise no one is mad at you or Jason. It’s going to be okay.”

Okay, fine, that was the correct way to deal with Tim’s insecurities and tendency to blame himself for literally everything, and probably what Dick himself would’ve done to reassure him. That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. Dick’s arms didn’t uncross.

“Alright, then.” Bruce cleared his throat and stood, nodding towards the stairs. “Dick, show them where they’ll be staying. I believe we have some free rooms across from yours. I can go to Drake Manor and get some of your things while you get settled.”

Tim’s eyes widened fractionally, and he looked like he was going to speak, but Bruce cut off the panic. “I promise I won’t snoop. I’ll only get clothes and things like that. Any requests?”

“I want you to bring Frankenstein,” Jason said, looking sullen.

“And my laptop?”

“Of course. Dick?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s a no, then. Please show the boys their rooms.” Bruce gestured upstairs again, and Dick rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Jason and Tim like to share.” If Bruce had an issue with that, Dick was genuinely going to throw something at him, because come on.

Luckily - for Bruce - he took it in stride. “Then just one. I’ll be back soon. Jason, you like reading?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s it to you?”

“We have multiple libraries, but the one with more fiction is around the East Wing. Dick can show you, or I can if you’d prefer. Enjoy.”

Dick would have to be an idiot to miss the way Jason’s eyes lit up. Tim had enough books at home, but no real library, and Dick was sure Jason would be delighted to look through an entire library. Fine, Bruce being rich was nice sometimes. Whatever.

Dick gathered both of his little brothers in his arms and herded them out of the kitchen, to where their temporary quarters were. Temporary.

Dick had the feeling Bruce hadn’t gotten the memo. Typical. At least the very least they were in this together.

“You know,” Tim said, still tucked close to Dick, “I think it’s really cool that your dad cares enough about you to blackmail you to get you to stay.”

“Shut up, Timbits.” Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re such a red flag.”