Chapter Text
Timothy Jackson Drake was the personal assistant to Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises.
Yeah, that was something Tim never wanted to become. As a child, he detested the idea of working in a business setting. His parents made him hate people like them who left the work to lesser-paid employees while they reaped the rewards. At least with Bruce Wayne, Tim knew that he helped out in other ways. Jack and Janet Drake did not, unless one counted the shady business deals they’d make in other countries.
See, it all began when Tim graduated high school. It had been a hectic senior year. After both of his biological parents died, his step-mother died as well. He became emancipated in order to make the board of directors happy.
Drake Industries, funding one of his parent’s last digs while they were alive, discovered something that glowed green. Tim knew what it was, a few select scientists knew, and somehow, so did Lex Luthor. Ever since, Tim had been battling the board, Lex, and his own age while he tried to keep the Kryptonite away from any villainous hands.
The board of directors declared that Tim could only take his place as head of the company if he chose one of three options: Obtain a Business Management Bachelor’s Degree, be welcomed to the CEO position once he turned 25 years of age, or work in the business world at a respectable company for 2 years.
Tim obviously chose the latter. He was 18-years-old but he couldn’t last 4 years or more against Lex’s resources without giving away that something was incredibly wrong with him. Tim even tried going to college — it’s where he rekindled his feelings with Bernard again — but it became obvious that Tim couldn’t make it through.
After Tim graduated high school and a failed college attempt, he made a choice.
Wayne Enterprises was the best company around, especially for Gotham. Their health benefits, retirement program, and perks to the job made it a wanted position. WE was also on the list of companies that Drake Industries would approve for his fulfilled time of working in the business field.
Tim did what he needed to do. He called Bruce, one of the only people he could trust with his life.
Bruce’s voice almost seemed shaky that day as he answered, “Hey, Tim. Are you doing okay? I saw the news about your father. I tried to find you but your apartment was empty.”
Tim dismissed the sentiment and empathy in Bruce’s tone. If Batman wanted to find him, Tim would have been found. Plus, they ran into one another often. Oddly enough, the heir to Drake Industries was a high target for ransom demands.
“I need a job,” he ended up replying.
“I saw it on the news. Have you decided where you’re going? Or if you’re handing your company over instead?”
Tim had to force his eyes to not spill tears. He reminded himself that he was just a placeholder. He was a fake. He wasn’t ever going to be Bruce’s son. And that was okay. He knew that when he started it.
“I was wondering if there was an open position at WE. Something I can do for 2 years and then move on.”
Bruce was silent for a few moments on the line. He eventually said, “Yeah. Anything for you, Tim. We’re always searching for new blood that’s ready to enter the field.” After a moment he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to college?”
Tim had to grit his teeth. “I barely got through high school.” That was a whole other story. It was an entirely different conversation that Tim didn’t want to discuss.
“I… I know. I’m sorry you had to do that, Tim.”
“It’s whatever.”
Bruce didn’t talk. Tim forced himself to breathe. He hated this. These emotions that appeared out of nowhere each time he talked with the Wayne. Tim wanted to end the phone call yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He needed Bruce. Needed his help in order to get a job. In order to make his parents proud.
“You’ve never wanted to go into business,” he eventually murmured. Tim hated that Bruce knew that about him. Bruce then offered, “Drake Industries is always trying to merge with my company. If we merge, I’m sure that you won’t have to get a job. You could take your inheritance money or trust fund or whatever and live your life. Have that childhood you were never allowed.”
It was tempting. The idea of not having to deal with politics and people like Lex Luthor. Yet, Tim already made up his mind. He was going to at least try. And, a small part of him didn't want Bruce to have the Kryptonite either. What would he do with such a thing?
“I want to move ahead with a secure job. I could technically ask Lex Luthor if he wants me. Metropolis isn’t very far away. I don’t want to move to Central or Star City, but if it meant fulfilling the requirements—”
“I get it,” interrupted Bruce. “You’ll have to adjust your public profile but…”
“Yeah. I’m thinking of being an airhead. I was always pretty polite in the public, so feigning to not understand everything shouldn’t be too hard. I thought about being a doomsday prepper or something similar. ‘Batman can’t save us all’ and the like. It could be fun.”
Tim could hear Bruce’s smile as he said, “It could be.”
Tim hated that he liked this. The bonding. The idea of seeing Bruce in-person every once in a while. Ever since he came back from being lost in time, they hadn’t been close. They weren’t very close before that either, though.
Bruce said, “I’ll ask Lucius if there’s any good positions open. He’ll email you—”
“Thanks,” was all he said. Tim hung up the phone and tossed it onto the table under his hand.
He couldn’t do this. It was a horrible idea. Bruce would know. Bruce is a great detective. He would be able to spot Tim’s troubles miles away. Now Tim just set himself up to see Bruce in-person if he gets a job at WE. Bruce would figure it out. He would know about—
Tim forced himself to breathe.
That was how he ended up in his current predicament.
Tim was getting used to Wayne Enterprises — the civilian heroes in disguise, the villain attacks, the insurance that he had to keep using because stampedes of frightened employees were never good, and the overtime schedule — but he had never been forced to deal with the Wayne Family as a whole.
Bruce was the first to saunter in. He had his whole Brucie Wayne facade on, his steps carefully placed to be dramatic and showy. He swayed through the office like the charming playboy he pretended to be. Other employees on the floor were wide-eyed from their cubicles. Tim understood that sentiment. Bruce never came in person.
Tim knew the only reason why Bruce came in was because Lucius chewed him out. Mysteriously, there was a, uhm, paragliding incident 2 weeks ago that left him bedridden. Therefore, he couldn’t sign the needed papers and approve anything. Lucius was very upset.
Tim was slowly transferring all documents to be signed online. The board of directors fought him for it. Said paper trails were better. Honestly, Tim believed that the board was able to control Wayne Enterprises better when Bruce was forced to sign hundreds of documents all at once. The board was filled with incompetent assholes that didn’t particularly care if Bruce showed up or not. Tim wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
Bruce greeted him, “Hiya, Timmy, what’s on the agenda today?” His tone was playful but his eyes analyzed Tim up and down.
“There’s no meetings, Mr. Wayne,” he replied back stoically. His eyes briefly glanced over the vigilante. He wouldn’t leave. Tim asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”
Bruce’s face faltered for a single millisecond. “Nah, I’m all… good.” He walked into his office with less sauntering and more gloom.
Tim knew he was a bit mean. He knew it was rude to be that way when Bruce saved him. Saved him from falling into a pit of despair. But Tim couldn’t look at Bruce without frustration bubbling up in his throat. How could Bruce say he loved him like his own children, trusted him, and saw him as an equal when he let so many things happen to Tim?
Tim tried to put up with Bruce, though, even if the man wasn’t a good father figure to him. Tim brushed that thought away. He had parents. He had 3 great parents. Sure, only Dana seemed to like him for simply being alive, but he still loved Jack and Janet. Tim didn’t need an adult. He was his own person. He didn’t need to rely on others.
But something was new. Something was off. Tim should have known the day was cursed from the beginning. Within a minute, the rest of the extended Wayne family had shown up.
Damian, the youngest, was in the front. Dick, the oldest, was behind him as if showing off the newest puppy. Jason — returned from the dead only a few months ago legally — and Cassandra, who were the deadliest of them all, walked behind them a little slower. Duke and Stephanie were also there, but they seemed to have made a quick snack run, for their arms were filled with junk food.
Tim felt dread in his stomach. This did not bode well. Shit. He should have quit WE when he could. He should have moved cities. Anything to get away from the vigilantes. Damnit, part of the reason he quit being a vigilante just so he could stop interacting with these people— with the reminders of his pain.
Dick chirped at him, “What’s up? Sorry. Uhm, how do you do? That doesn’t sound right either. So, look, we wanted some family time, but B decided that he needed to check in for work. I’m sure you’ve heard the news and all, being his, uh, secretary—”
“Personal Assistant,” corrected Tim, voice calm and quiet compared to Dick’s.
“Uh, yes. Anyway, I’m sure it won’t take long. We decided to just follow him around to make sure everything’s in check.”
“It’ll be a while.”
Damian spoke, then, “Father said it wouldn’t. Are you calling him a liar, you bastard!?”
Ah. Tim did not miss Damian’s air of arrogance and ego. Though the kid was getting better at it. Tim had seen him recently. He was becoming more of a kid instead of a weapon. Tim made eye contact with Dick. The older one seemed to be apologizing with his eyes. Tim held in a sigh.
He glanced back at Damian. “Mr. Wayne hasn’t been in the office for 3 weeks, almost 4. As CEO, he must approve most decisions. The estimated time for him to finish his paperwork is approximately 3 and a half hours.”
Dick chuckled awkwardly as Damian sized him up. Dick looked awkward as he said, “Thanks… for that. Erm, but that should be it, right? After that, he’s good to come home?”
Tim clicked his mouse. He opened up Bruce’s calendar on his screen. “Mr. Wayne does not have any meetings scheduled for the day.”
“Cool. So. Uh. Yeah. Thanks for that.”
“No problem, Mr. Wayne. Is there anything else I could assist you with?”
Dick immediately blushed. Tim could hear Jason’s laughter and Stephanie crinkling the bags of food in her arms from holding in a chuckle. It was good payback for Dick ignoring all of the times Damian poisoned his food. Maybe Damian didn’t know he was allergic to kiwis, but the rest of the times were definitely not accidents.
“Mr. Wayne,” echoed Jason, his face lit up in excitement. “Did you hear that, Dickie-bird?”
“I heard it,” muttered Dick.
Cassandra suddenly appeared in front of his desk, even closer than where Dick and Damian were standing. She eyed Tim particularly, assessing him in some strange way that made his skin crawl. She eventually said, “Reschedule.”
Tim felt the need to be dramatic. He was barely able to hold it down. He responded carefully, “I do not choose when he comes in. He could leave at any time.”
She frowned in confusion. “You do not schedule events?”
Tim shook his head. “I’m sort of just, like, a figure he doesn’t listen to. I tell him to go to a conference in Metropolis, and instead he goes to Kansas so he can visit a friend. I tell him Lucius is angered that he had to fill in for him at said conference, so Mr. Wayne just throws money at us both. I ask Mr. Wayne to please, just once, not go on a crazy vacation so he can attend a board meeting, but instead he gets injured while fighting off a pelican from eating his youngest son. Do you get it, now?”
The group seemed at a loss for words.
Damian broke it by saying, “Father lied. I was not the one attacked. It was Stephanie who needed backup.”
“Hey!” squawked the blonde. “I was holding my own just fine, thank you.”
Tim tried not to laugh. None of them knew he knew who they were. None of them knew he was Red Robin. None of them knew he had checked the mission reports with Alfred last Sunday and helped him clean the Batcave. None of them knew he used to be just like them. None of them knew he quit because he was weak and could still hear laughter—
Well, maybe Cassandra was figuring it out. She was almost the most observant out of everyone, even Batman. Tim was sure if they spent any more time together, she would figure it out. The only question was if she would tell her siblings.
Tim asked, “Would you like to stay in a conference room, or would you prefer one of the company drivers to drive you around?”
“A conference room would be fine,” said Dick. He was gaining back his charm. Being at WE must have dialed it down. Shock, maybe. Hating business etiquette? Probable.
Jason gave a hoot. “Nah. I'd rather hear about B. What other stories did he tell you? Did he spread the news about each one?”
Tim spared a glance to look at the man who almost killed him. If they looked closer, they would see the faint scar across his neck. It was the only visible scar Tim had. The rest of his body was covered. His neck, face, and hands were the only parts that his clothing and accessories didn’t cover-up.
Tim said, fake chipper, “He happily informed us of the birthday bash last month.”
“Which one?” whispered Dick.
Tim blinked. He attempted to appear to be thinking. “You know, I don’t think Mr. Wayne ever told us which of you ate the entire cake in one sitting, therefore being sick the next two days. It’s probably for the best. He made it clear it was an embarrassing moment. Hopefully, whoever it was doesn’t do it again.”
“He said one of us got sick from eating a whole cake?” stuttered out Duke. “What? Why would he say that?”
Tim attempted to look confused, and it was successful. “Oh, maybe he did it himself and was too embarrassed to say. You know what, that’s probably it. He missed a meeting with Mr. Luthor, after all. The man had scheduled it two months in advance. I bet Mr. Wayne felt he let the man down.”
“Lex Luthor? B was meeting up with Lex?” asked Stephanie. Her voice was full of confusion and surprise.
“Well, Mr. Luthor is attempting to buy out WE. He believes it would be a beneficial agreement, but Mr. Wayne always turns him down. I suppose it’s a good thing. I turned him down too, so it must just be the weird feeling a person gets when shaking Mr. Luthor’s hand.”
“You turned him down too? Did he offer you a job?” asked Dick.
Tim frowned. It seemed the Wayne’s were incredibly bored. Cassandra, at some point, had disappeared and returned with a stack of chairs. She entered his office again and laid them out. The Wayne’s were gathered around his desk full of curiosity. He supposed the conference room would no longer be needed.
“He tried to buy my company.”
There was a pause. Tim made eye-contact with Stephanie. She mouthed, “Sorry.” Tim just smiled at her. She was a good person. He didn’t deserve for her to still see him as a friend.
Duke asked hesitantly, “As in, you own a company or something?”
“Drake Industries.”
“Oh! You’re Timothy Drake, our neighbor,” exclaimed Dick. His bounciness had officially returned. “You have longer hair now. And you’re, like, way older than the last time we met.”
“We have a neighbor?” Damian asked quietly.
Stephanie laughed into her hand. “Dickie, you didn’t recognize your own neighbor? You are slipping, man.”
Tim smiled at her. “I understand. It’s not like I was exactly remarkable.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t forget about you, unlike someone over here.” She elbowed Dick in the side. Her snacks were planted by her feet. “I could never forget you, Tim!”
He simply kept up his smile, but it began to feel more genuine. Stephanie was a good friend. She made middle school and part of high school bearable. Made him not hate the world and his parents and everything else in the rotten city. They attempted to date, but Tim felt guilty about her not knowing he was a vigilante while he worked with Spoiler every night knowing who she was.
“You two know one another?” asked Duke.
Stephanie seemed to be opening her mouth to answer, but Jason cut them off with, “I don’t recognize you, and you’re way too proper to be from around here.”
Tim snorted. The group looked at him questionably. “Really?” asked Tim. “Cause, well, we went to school together, Mr. Wayne. If only for a short while.”
That time, Dick laughed. “See! I’m not the only one who’s apparently forgetful. Ha. I’m still awesome.”
Cassandra smiled to herself. “It seems not everyone has a good memory. Happy to meet you, Tim.” She looked all-knowing, probably thinking about knowing he was a past vigilante.
Tim prepared to break her walls. “Miss. Wayne,” he said, looking at Cass, “you attended the same school as Miss. Brown as well.”
That seemed to shock the Wayne's.
“No way!” shouted Duke. “Cass even forgot he existed. Dude, did we meet and I don’t remember either?”
Tim let himself chuckle lightly. “You are, in fact, the only person I haven’t met before, Mr. Thomas.” Duke grinned. “I stopped attending galas about a year ago.”
Damian let out a noise. “Tt. As expected of insignificant elites.”
Dick leaned down to whisper something— likely about how Tim’s parents were all dead by the time he stopped attending galas. Damian looked away, guilt hidden in his eyes. Tim was fine with that. Tim knew Damian wouldn’t apologize, but his bar for the brat wasn’t exactly set high.
Dick coughed. “Sorry about him. He doesn’t read the news.”
Tim brushed it off, hoping for the awkwardness to disappear. “It’s fine. Kids his age should be sheltered from some of the crudeness in this world.” He almost smirked. Damian hated being called a kid.
“I am not a child—”
“He’s very sorry,” Dick reassured. Tim held up a smile. It was cracking but still there. Damian bit his tongue while Tim tried to not feel like a maniac. Being a ‘civilian’ had its perks.
Jason then asked, “You had to attend those boring galas. Were you secretly happy when more villains started to pop up and they got canceled early when the gala got robbed?”
Tim replied, “Sadly, most of the galas I attended went smoothly. Although, one time Batman just, like, appeared. It was weird. I think he stole something from the technology room — I had seen him enter the room at least — but Mr. Luthor never reported a theft.”
“Batman, huh. Such an asshole.”
Tim hummed. “I prefer Black Bat, but we can all have our opinions.” He peered up from his monitor screen to see them all grinning at Cassandra. She, herself, had a small smile plastered on her face. “Who do you normally cheer for in fights?”
“Batman,” answered Damian, quick and swift like the sword he gutted Tim with once.
“Nightwing, duh,” said Dick.
Stephanie answered, “Oracle. Or, uhm, shit, I meant to say Huntress. Yeah. Huntress.” Tim pretended to not hear the slip-up.
All Jason said was, “Red. Hood.”
Duke just shrugged while Cassandra said, “The third Robin was my favorite partner.”
The room stiffened at that. Dick coughed. Stephanie gave into her urges and opened a bag of chips. Duke chugged down an energy drink. Damian glared at the Harley Quinn bobblehead on Tim’s desk. Jason’s eyes were closed shut.
Tim replied, voice almost hazy, “Yeah, I haven’t heard any news about him in a while. Did he change names?”
Tim was honestly interested in what they thought. How did Bruce explain his absence? Did Bruce mention anything about the time Tim took up the title Red Robin to save him after Darkseid? Did any of them know that Ra’s al Ghul regularly sent him gifts?
Cassandra shrugged, a dismissal. She asked instead, “Do you have good benefits?”
Tim paused. As in, like, his old vigilante days or his job? “The health insurance is great. I broke my arm 4 months ago when Two-Face set the building on fire. I didn’t have a bill for it.”
“Stampede?” asked Stephanie, voice blunt.
“Yeah. Turns out even the stairs are dangerous in those kinds of events. At least we weren’t frozen inside like last month. It was terrible. Everyone had already worked all of the overtime pay WE allows a person to work, so I had to manually extend the hours for every employee. It got me behind on work for a week.”
“...Why does it seem that you get attacked a lot?”
Tim stared at her unthinkably. It seemed pretty obvious. “It’s WE. Mr. Wayne publicly donates millions of dollars in hopes of stopping villains and criminals. The building even goes on lockdown when there’s a threat because of it.”
“It gets attacked that much?” asked Duke. “Wow. Good to know I’m doing well in life if I’m not under lockdown all of the time.”
“I wonder if we could somehow set off an alarm,” wondered Stephanie. Her eyes looked to the ceiling, to the doors, and in the corners.
“That could make B come home earlier,” added Dick.
“Does this mean I can burn this place to the ground? If so, I’m in,” stated Jason, already eyeing what to burn first. Literal stars were in his eyes. Tim resisted to shiver.
He held a hand out. “Please don’t,” begged Tim.
Cassandra gave him a pitying smile. Cass looked over to her siblings, then suggested, “Air vents?” Gee, she wasn’t happy with him disappearing out of the blue.
“Ooo, yeah, we could stink bomb the place,” said Stephanie, clinging onto Cass’s arm excitedly.
“I propose we kidnap father,” spoke Damian. They all turned to him. He held his chin up. “It is the fastest way to make him relax with us at the Manor.”