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Damian had wronged Tim.
He had learned many things throughout his time in Gotham. That kindness was like a weapon. You’re not any weaker for wielding kindness than you are wielding a katana. And that cruelty should be a last resort as there was almost always a better way.
He had been cruel to Tim, and he wanted to rectify that mistake so that they could establish a bond.
Yet every time he tried, it seemed to be taken the wrong way.
He complimented Tim on all he’s achieved in his new mantle. The older boy went quiet and left a few minutes later.
He asked Tim for advice on disguises as he was an expert at pretending to be things he wasn’t. Tim glared at him and told him to go to Dick for advice instead.
Damian even offered to check his grapple for him once. Tim’s face went white and he didn’t come to the Manor for a week afterwards.
He told all of this to Dick, who seemed to not be as attentive as usual. But as it was 5AM and Dick had just returned from a three week long mission, Damian decided to be merciful.
Until Dick just stared blankly at him with glazed eyes.
"Richard!" Damian flicked his forehead. "Tell me how to bond with Timothy." He demanded.
"Treat him like an abused cat." Dick blurted out. He froze and furrowed his brow, then nodded seriously. "Yes. Treat him like you would a cat that's been hurt. By you."
"I'd never hurt an animal." Damian spat.
"But you did hurt a Tim. And he's like a cat so, yeah." Dick's eyes were practically shut. He stood up and ruffled Damian's hair. "Do that Dami."
Damian tilted his head thoughtfully. Dick in his exhausted haze, decided to view that as a successful conclusion to their conversation. He shuffled away, yawning.
Little did he know what he had started.
Damien hummed. "That could work." he murmured to himself.
What could go wrong? After all, Dick does know Tim best.
-
Less than an hour later, Damian was down in the Cave. As everyone else was asleep upstairs, this was the ideal time to utilize the Batcomputer to engage in some very important research.
How to help an abused cat recover.
There were many suggestions made by both professionals and those who had clearly not interacted with a cat in their lives.
Damian made sure to leave strongly worded comments on the blogs of the latter category.
He spent three hours scouring the web, gathering the information proven to be consistently accurate. After he'd done that, he made a list of things to implement in his quest to bond with Tim.
After he'd printed and laminated the list, he went upstairs to wait for Tim to awaken.
Play with them often. Was one of the more popular suggestions. Understandable, as games are an ideal way to bond with both cats and humans. Damian had learned this with both Richard and Alfred the cat.
Despite Richard saying that Tim was like a cat, Damian decided to forgo any attempts to entice him with a string and instead took out the Scrabble box.
Damian stood in the hall waiting for Tim to emerge from his room. He spent a few minutes musing on whether it would be cheating to use words that only exist in other languages.
Then the door clicked open. The familiar sound of Tim tiredly shuffling down the hall had Damian adjusting the box in his arms.
Now was the time.
Damian stepped into Tim's path.
When Tim saw him, his drooping eyes sharpened into something alert and calculating. His shoulders tensed in a way that reminded Damian of a cat arching its back in preparation for an attack.
"Hello, Timothy." Damian spoke softly as he would to a spooked alley cat.
Tim's eyes narrowed. "Damian." He replied cautiously.
"Would you be amenable to playing a game?" Damian held up the Scrabble box. That's what Dick did when making such an offer. He also shakes the box as if Damian needs to hear the game as well as see it.
Tim stepped back. "A game." He said warily.
"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." Damian said gently. Use a soft, reassuring tone of voice.
Tim gawked at him. "Did you hit your head? Did I hit my head? I should get Alfred–"
"Hush, no need to panic, just come over here." Damian tried utilizing the reassuring tone Dick used on all of them in moments of panic.
Tim stared at him with wide eyes. "Bruce!"
Damian stepped forward. "There, there, Timothy. There's nothing to fear."
Tim hissed. "Get back!" He brandished his coffee cup threateningly.
"You won't hurt me." Damian said, stepping back all the while. Back off when they tell you to.
Tim bared his teeth but didn't refute the statement.
It seemed he wasn't in the mood to play a game. Perhaps an alternative option?
"I shall be in the living room drawing if you'd like to join me." Damian said. He went to his room to grab his sketchbook before going downstairs.
-
Tim walked into the living room, pointedly not looking in Damian's direction. He was tense and cautious, casing the room as if it were a warehouse rigged to blow up.
Damian sent a silent apology to Jason for that thought.
He continued to draw. Ignore them until they come to you. It was a technique known to be very successful with both hurt and happy cats. Hopefully it would be the same with Tim.
Damian pretended not to notice Tim as he sat on the other end of the couch. He caught a glimpse of a tablet out of the corner of his eye. It seemed they would both be working in silence today.
Over the next hour, Tim moved closer and closer, seemingly coincidentally. Until was only a foot away from Damian.
As he could feel Tim's eyes on him, he looked up to see what he wanted. Tim glared when they made eye contact. Damian valiantly refrained from glaring back, after all, that's not what he'd do with a cat.
He went back to his sketch. It was one of his more juvenile works. A sketch of Jason with a skunk on top of his head, posed to unleash its unholy stench. If the tail just happened to look like Jason's hair, that was a happy coincidence.
He sensed Tim subtly leaning over, trying to look at Damian's work. Gently encourage curiosity.
Damian tilted the book in Tim's direction slightly, so as not to scare him off.
He knew the moment Tim saw the sketch because the previous silence was replaced with laughter.
“That’s amazing.” Tim said, still chuckling.
Damian found himself smiling. “True to life, is it not?”
“For sure. It was the first thing I thought when he took his helmet off at the Tower.” Tim said.
Damian’s lips twitched. “It must have been difficult to take him seriously.”
“Oh you have no idea, especially since he was wearing the Rob–” Tim cut himself off as if just remembering who he was talking to.
The silence was less pleasant this time.
“Would you like to look through them?” Damian asked, lifting the sketchbook. He ignored the way his stomach twisted in knots. He must have gone too long without eating, that was all.
Tim seemed hesitant. “Aren’t they private?”
“It’s not erotica, there’s nothing to hide.” Damian rolled his eyes.
“You are way too young to know about erotica.” Tim commented. Damian couldn’t hide his scowl at that, Luckily Tim didn’t seem to notice as he was lost in thought. “I just meant that you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”
Damian blinked. “You sound like Richard.” He scoffed, ignoring the warm feeling in his chest.
Tim scrunched his nose up. “Ugh, lame.”
While normally Damian would defend Dick from such an attack, the rules wouldn't allow it. Be patient with them.
“I could show you the ones I like?” Damian offered. It would be more satisfactory to go to the sketches he deemed ready for an outside perspective.
Tim tilted his head, scrutinizing him for a moment. “Sure, I’d like that.”
It turned out that Tim had an even worse eye for art than Dick. When Damian dared to ask which was his favorite, Tim simply said all of them.
Even so, the compliments – uninformed as they were – made Damian smile.
-
Damian had come to the conclusion that Bruce was also at fault for Tim’s condition. Not for any particular reason, but because he was at fault for everyone else’s issues in some way. So he likely had something to do with Tim’s.
He was proven right when Tim and he were in the living room. They had been spending time together for a few hours a day for almost a week – Stick to a routine – Mostly in silence, but they do tend to indulge in conversation near the end.
On the sixth day, Bruce intruded on their silence. “Tim.”
“What’s up, B?” Tim looked up from his papers.
“You’ve only been in the office twice this week.” Bruce seemed to be attempting to stare Tim down. Like a particularly confrontational tomcat.
“It’s mostly paperwork this month, which I can just do from home.” Tim said with a shrug.
“If being CEO is proving to be too much for you, I can take over again.” Bruce said. Damian recalled what Dick said before he moved back to Bludhaven. Bruce is weird when he gets worried, he always expresses it in the worst way. Don’t take it personally. It was hard not to. And Damian wasn't even the one he was talking to this time.
“Yes, because you were so brilliant at it.” Damian muttered under his breath. Tim was a perfectly adequate CEO. Not to mention he had spent some time explaining the dynamics of the board to Damian a few days ago, which had been informative. And fun. Not that he’d tell anyone that.
Tim shot Damian an amused look, which he returned. Show them love in a way they understand. Damian had initially tried by blinking slowly at Tim, like he did with Alfred the cat. It did not go well. Tim sat on the armchair that day.
“Tim, this is a serious matter.” Bruce sighed, as if disappointed. “If you can’t do this, tell me now.”
Damian watched as the smile on Tim's face withered away. “I’ll be in the office tomorrow.” He replied.
They didn’t talk near the end that day.
-
Later, just before patrol, Damian chose his moment to strike. He waited until Tim went out as Red Robin before turning to Bruce with a stare he’d learned from Talia. Damian took a moment to enjoy the disturbed look on Bruce’s face.
“Is there something wrong, Damian?” He already sounded tired. Good. He should be easier to command that way.
"This is not an environment conducive to a steady recovery." Damian stated. He ignored Bruce's confused hum. "Father, I demand that you learn to communicate better. Lest you get fired ."
"Fired? From what?" Bruce frowned in confusion.
"Your role as caretaker in both Timothy and I's lives." Damian said ruthlessly. He handed Bruce a list. "Start implementing these phrases into your conversations with us.” Damian said. Because it was not a weakness to require kindness or affirmation. “We shall begin working on actions next week."
Bruce stared at the list in bewilderment. “I don’t–”
"Very good, Master Damian." Alfred said, effectively cutting off any protests Bruce would have made. “We shall go over the list together tonight, Master Bruce.” Alfred articulated each word carefully. He had an admirable talent of making well pronounced words sound like a blade piercing flesh. Damian silently vowed to learn how to do that one day.
Bruce grunted in agreement, still looking confused.
Honestly, Dick should have just said Bruce was stunted, instead of dancing around it.
-
Tim did not go to the office the next day. And they began talking halfway through their living room sessions from then on.
-
“This cannot be real.” Damian shook his head at the picture Tim was showing him.
Tim had offered to show Damian some of the pictures he took when he used to follow their family on patrol.
They were beautifully crafted– Damian made sure to tell Tim as much – but for all their beauty, there were some glaring flaws.
Dick flying through the city with no pants on, for instance.
“There is no way Father allowed this.”
“But he did.” Tim sounded much too gleeful about that fact. “It gets worse.”
Damian’s head snapped up. Tim had a glint in his eye that Damian did not like at all. He didn’t say anything else. Just let them stew in silence until Damian gave into the inevitable.
“How?” He glared as he asked. Tim didn’t even bat an eye. They’ll get more comfortable in time.
Tim took another picture out of the folder. “You won’t look at Dick the same way again.” He warned.
“Hand me the picture.” Damian did his best to sound unafraid.
Tim nodded solemnly. “Here.”
Damian took the picture, maintaining eye contact with Tim throughout the process. He slowly looked down to see–
He did not know what he was seeing.
There was Dick, younger than Damian had ever seen him. He was in dark and light blue colors with bright yellow, feather-like material starting from his shoulders and ending near the center of his torso. He had a popped collar. And the neckline…
The neckline ended at his ribcage.
“What is this?” Damian’s voice trembled.
Tim let out a shaky breath. “They call it Discowing.”
Damian pursed his lips, trying to stifle his grief – not giggles– at Dick’s unfortunate life choices.
Then Tim snorted. And Damian’s restraint fell away.
When Dick caught them laughing he refused to talk to them for an hour.
-
A month after that, at the end of one of their living room sessions, Tim reached out for him. Let them come to you. Damian remained still, avoiding eye contact. Stay calm when they reach out. It was surprisingly difficult to do so. But worthwhile all the same.
Tim's hand was a warm weight on Damian’s shoulder, reassuring and unrestrictive. He gave it a gentle squeeze before retreating quickly and leaving the room.
Damian smiled. It was progress.