Chapter Text
“You already have two boys and we both know the house is too big for you anyway, just give him a guest room, you won’t even know he’s there.”
Tim looked between the figures staring each other down. Dad was angry. Well, he called it annoyed, but all his muscles were tense and his voice was louder than usual. Mom would say he was angry if she were standing here. But she wasn’t standing here. Mom was off “dealing with the idiots in CPS.” Whatever CPS was. Probably something creepy he didn’t want to think about.
Dad and Mom were leaving again.
He didn’t want to think about that either. But they were. Tim had tried hard to be good this time, but they were only more stressed and angry than he’d ever seen them. Someone was mad that they left him home alone. At least that’s what he’d gathered. That someone might have been named Sharon and she had come to talk to them. He had tried to help. He tried to tell her he was fine and he could take care of himself. He was seven years old, after all. It didn’t matter if they left him home alone, they did it all the time, he was used to it and he could take care of himself.
Mom and Dad’s faces got even redder and angrier when he said that.
They’d sent him to his room when Sharon left.
And he could hear them yelling til he fell asleep. Sometimes he could hear something shatter.
They didn’t want his help.
And now… Now Dad was mad at Batman.
Well, Dad didn’t know he was Batman, he just thought he was Bruce Wayne, but it didn’t matter. Because of what Tim did, Dad was mad. It was all his fault.
He looked between the men standing before him again. Batman looked confused. And Dad looked angry.
And Tim was scared.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce watched as Jack Drake got in his car and drove away, leaving his seven-year-old son behind. He hadn’t wanted to take Timothy with him, wherever he was going.
Bruce didn’t understand, Jack and Janet Drake went on month long excursions all the time, taking Timothy with them had never been a problem before. But Jack had made it seem like an emergency and no one else could take care of the boy while they were gone, so Bruce had eventually agreed.
Timothy was only seven after all. Bruce had seen Timothy at galas and charities before, he was a good boy, well behaved. They could keep their nightlife secret from a well behaved seven year old. At least for a few months. Just this once.
Bruce knelt down to Timothy’s level and smiled. “Well Timothy, how would you like to come inside for some hot chocolate?”
The boy stared up into Bruce’s face, his mouth slightly agape.
“We can load it with as many marshmallows as you’d like and you can meet Dick and Jason.”
Timothy sucked in a breath, his eyes filling with even more awe and Bruce couldn’t help but wonder why. It wasn’t that this reaction was uncommon, but few seven-year-olds were impressed by Bruce’s status as Crown Prince of Gotham. And of the few who were, Bruce had never met one who came from a family of nearly equal status and wealth. There was nothing the heir to the Drake estate and Bruce’s next door neighbor should be in awe of Bruce and his sons over.
Timothy nodded before answering in his most polite, upper Gotham accent, “I would be honored, Mr. B--” he gasped again for some reason and quickly back tracked before correcting himself. “Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce gave the boy his most encouraging smile. “You can just call me Bruce, Timothy.”
He seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding, the panic at his mistake draining out of his shoulders.
“Just Tim, Mr.--Bruce.”
“Alright then, Tim.” Bruce grinned wider and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder as he stood to lead him inside, but Tim flinched under the weight and pulled away--just far enough to allow Bruce’s hand to fall off his shoulder--before walking up the steps to the front doors.
That was… Odd. And Bruce’s smile faltered. Maybe Tim was just antisocial and didn’t like physical contact. Maybe he was hesitant to trust Gotham’s elite, which, given his background, would make perfect sense. It was perfectly likely that strangers would pinch his cheek or pat his head and he'd have to let them do so in order to “behave”. It was also likely the Drakes were involved in shady business and Tim had seen too much of it up close. Whatever the case, Tim’s trust would be something Bruce would have to earn before the boy would accept any physical contact.
Bruce gathered himself and followed the younger heir up the steps to open the door for him, careful to avoid contact. Tim carried himself well as he walked inside, shoulders thrown back and head held high. Rigid and proper, Tim owned who he was and who he was destined to become. It was a little unsettling, honestly. A kid that young shouldn’t be this tense. He shouldn’t have to own his title or impress snobs all the time.
Bruce hoped it was just for show in a new place around other members of “Gotham’s elite” and the boy would warm up and settle down soon.