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An Assassin's Regard

Summary:

Tim and Damian...do not get along, to say the least. Although in the past two years they've learned to work together, calling them family would be a bit of a stretch as far as either are concerned.
Everything changes when Tim learns something about Damian, a secret he's kept under wraps since arriving in Gotham. And then Tim decides to do something about it.
Or!
How Tim and Damian learn to be brothers.

Chapter 1: The Gotham Harbor

Summary:

In which Tim discovers Damian's secret...

Notes:

So I got to take my little brother to the beach for the first time awhile ago and I had FEELS as I was showing him how to handle the waves, so now Tim and Damian get to help me relive that. I didn’t want to publish this ‘cause I still don’t know how it ends, but I’m tired of this series getting stalled by ONE fic, so I’m publishing the first chapter as a placeholder for now. What else to say about this fic? There will be lots of fluff, but we have to get past the set-up first.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

There are no oceans in Nanda Parbat. There’s a blazing desert, cold mountains, and clear skies that will always lead Damian home. In Gotham there is no desert, no mountains, and no clear skies, but there is an ocean. It is not a particularly pleasant ocean. The water is brackish and cold. Slimy things slide past his ankles every time he sticks so much as a toe inside. 

This is why Damian hates to patrol by the harbor. However, the harbor is an important stop on their patrol routes. It is the hub of organized crime. To skip it entirely is the height of foolishness and an unworthy, cowardly thing for the Son of the Bat to do. So when Father says they are patrolling by the harbor, he bites his tongue and does his duty. 

Even if Father says he has to do it with the Pretender. 

Drake leads the way to the harbor in silence, so Damian follows suit. They leave no sounds behind them but the zip and whir of their grapple guns. They leave no sighting but the slightest flicker over the moon. All the while, Damian seethes on the inside. Why couldn’t Father have paired him with Grayson? Todd? Even Brown was more acceptable to him than Drake!

Drake taps his comm line twice as they get to the harbor. When he sees Damian watching, he points to a lit warehouse right by the edge of the pier. 

Damian taps his comm once in acknowledgment. He will not be the dead weight in this mission, no matter how he fears the blackened water below. 

Both boys approach the warehouse, moving with the shadows until they can get up close. Once here, Drake quietly begins to take pictures of the inside while Damian watches his back. As loath as he is to do it, he knows Drake will accuse him of incompetency if he leaves and he is a long way away from the days when he sought Drake’s death at every turn.

Drake pockets the camera and turns so he faces Damian. I count 22 guys on the inside. 15 outside. Looks like a minor arms deal. He summarizes in sign language. 

We can take them. Damian signs back. No one who matters is here. 

Drake shakes his head. Too many- let me call for back-

“Tch.” Is the only sound Damian makes before rushing off. He jumps through the skylight to the cries of “Bat!” and “Robin!” 

Damian dives behind a metal container and attacks the first thug he sees, easily dispatching them. The second and third go down in mere seconds. 

By then however, they’re on the alert, guns up, crowding together as if that will save them. Damian is the Son of the Bat, he will show them how hopeless their attempts are. 

The smoke bomb drops from the ceiling, letting out a loud bang before discharging the smoke. Damian can just barely see Drake jumping down from the ceiling, before he turns on his thermal vision and attacks. 

He dodges and strikes, takes grown men down with ease. His katana slices through their guns and he grins, practically tasting victory already as the men begin to scatter, running for the walls of the warehouse, frantically searching for the door.

As the smoke begins to clear, Damian leaps at one of the last thugs standing- only to find himself flung through a window. He turns the momentum into a flip, gets into position for a proper landing and-

He lands in the harbor with a SPLASH. 

Damian sinks through the ocean, pulled down by the weight of his wet uniform and gear, the cape entangling his arms. The water is cold, the shock of it causing Damian to gasp, releasing precious air and swallowing that horrendous, salty water. He wrenches his eyes open, thankful for the mask that protects them-

Which way is up? 

The water he’s in is blacker than night and as Damian flails around, he sees nothing-no light at all to guide him up. He kicks out, but between the cape entangling his arms and his own rising panic, he remains in place. 

His lungs begin to burn and for a moment, Damian wonders if he really will drown here, mere feet from land. Then- a hand grips his bicep and drags him from the water. As soon as his head breaches air, Damian breathes in, which turns into coughing and spluttering as the water running down his face gets in his mouth. 

“Why the FUCK didn’t you press your panic button?!” Drake shouts, cursing and spluttering as he continues to tug Damian…somewhere. Hopefully to land. Damian can offer no answer, so Drake keeps going. “For crying out loud, do you know how hard it is to find someone in the HARBOR? At night? While wearing a LOT of black?!” Drake shouts. 

Damian does not know and he doesn’t have the strength to shout back. “Difficult.” He manages to gasp out. 

“If you’d just pressed your panic button, I could have tracked you down so much easier, but nooo, I have to figure out where the hell you drifted off to, gotta search the water-” Drake starts to mutter his displeasure. Ahead of them, Damian can see the pier and he wonders how he got so far out so quickly. 

“So lucky I saw exactly where you went in you- errrrgh, can you at LEAST kick?” Drake snaps. 

Damian stares at Drake, but kicks his legs. It doesn’t help very much. 

The anger fades from Drake’s face, replaced by a look of calculation. “...You don’t know how to swim?” 

Damian feels himself bristling as he snarls back, “Of course I know how to swim! The ocean is just- I can’t-” He stops, unable to explain without sounding weak, and weak is NOT something he can be around Drake. 

Drake gives him a considering look, then turns back to the pier. “Come on. We don’t have all night.”

“What about the rest of those villains?” Damian asks, realizing that if Drake came after Damian right away then that had to mean they were unsecured. 

“Spoiler is two minutes out, she’s gonna mop up what’s left. Some of them might have escaped, but there’s no way they’re getting all that they came for at least.” Drake answers. 

Damian burns with shame. If he’d just been able to rescue himself, none of them would have gotten away at all. Worse, he’d revealed one of his few weaknesses to Drake of all people. Could this night get any worse? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Tim gets back to the Cave with Damian in tow, he sends the younger boy through hypothermia procedures and leaves. He knows he isn’t wanted there and that’s fine. Dick is more than happy to fuss over Damian while Alfred makes him hot chocolate. And it’s not like Tim had been in the water as long as Damian, he’s fine. 

Just fine. 

Peeling off his suit, Tim dresses in sweatpants and a sweatshirt before taking a seat at the Batcomputer. He has cases to work on, but he can’t quite focus on them. His mind whirs softly as he thinks about Damian’s near-drowning. 

The younger boy must have been terrified when he landed in the ocean. Why else would he have forgotten to press his panic button? Then there was his odd quietness when Tim pulled him up. He hadn’t so much as protested while Tim shouted at him. Decidedly out of character, Damian never missed a chance to fight back.

Probably wasn’t the best way to handle that situation, in retrospect. He should have handed Damian off to Dick for his scolding- Damian actually listened to him after all. Dick had always retained some amount of trust and respect. He should tell him about Damian’s inability to work in the ocean. Just in case this happens again. 

Tim sips from his coffee and frowns contemplatively. Would Damian want that? The kid was always working so hard to prove himself, to show himself as strong and capable. He’s sure the demon brat is already catastrophizing about just TIM knowing, and Tim is- well. Maybe not family, and didn’t that hurt, but at least an ally. 

He sighs and rubs his eyes. He takes another sip of coffee, trying to get that little bit of wakefulness back. He really needs to focus on the case in front of him but- all he can see is the blank terror on Damian’s face. All he can feel is how limp and resigned Damian had been in his hand. The sheer helplessness in his denial. 

“Fuck. I can’t believe I’m doing this…” Tim sighs. 

“Replacement.” A voice interrupts Tim’s train of thought. The voice, familiar and carefully neutral in use of that nickname. 

“Hood. What are you doing here?” Tim asks and turns around in his chair. 

“Well I was upstairs, talkin’ to Alfred when a little half-drowned birdie walked through the door. Dick was mother hennin’ him to death, but I noticed somethin’ interestin’ ‘bout his story.” Jason plops himself down on the edge of the console, helmet in hand. 

“Interesting?” Tim tilts his head. He can’t see anything particularly interesting about what happened except Damian’s weakness, and he couldn’t believe Damian would reveal THAT. 

“The demon brat says yer the one who fished him out of the harbor.” Jason crosses his arms and stares pointedly at Tim. “So I came down here to see if you were being a good little Robin.” 

“I’m not Robin anymore.” Tim points out. 

Jason rolls his eyes. “And what, only Robin can get hypothermia and a cold?” 

“I’m fine.” Tim retorts, swinging back around to his case. 

Jason catches the side of the chair and swings Tim back to facing him. “You stink like the harbor.” He says flatly. 

“It’s fine, I’ll shower later.” Tim swings back to the computer. 

Jason rolls his eyes and swings Tim back around. “Now Tim. Come on. I’m not gonna feed ya soup if ya get sick.” 

“Shouldn’t you be fussing over Damian?” Tim snarks back, turning back towards the computer. It’s a little awkward reaching over the chair like this, but it’s not nearly as painful as Jason sitting here, pretending he’s worth worrying about. 

“He’s got Dick so congratulations, I’m the big brother yer stuck with. Last warnin’ Tim, go take a hot shower.” 

Tim snorts but doesn’t leave the Batcomputer. He’s not about to roll over for Jason fucking Todd no matter how nice he’s pretending- “HEY!” He shouts as he finds himself swept up and over Jason’s shoulder.

Jason clutches the back of Tim’s legs with one hand and Tim can just hear the smirk on his face as he says, “I warned you.” Jason strides across the Batcave floor while Tim ineffectively slaps at his back. “Oooh, aim a little up wouldja? I got an ache in my back, could use a massage.”

Tim gives one last struggle before going limp. “Screw you Jay.” 

“Yeah, yeah, but have ya considered THANKIN’ me for not letting ya sit around in harbor water all night? ‘Cause the smell is NOT workin’ for ya Timbo.” 

“Oh I’ll thank you for this alright.” Tim mutters darkly. “You’ll see…” 

Notes:

Tim’s revenge on Jason aside, I hope you like this fic! It was supposed to be just a little one-shot but.
I am physically incapable of making super long chapters so. Here’s the set-up! Next chapter, Tim kidnaps Damian!

Chapter 2: When Tim Said They Were Going Somewhere...

Summary:

Tim continues the time-honored tradition of kidnapping one's own siblings. Damian will make him pay for it, one way or another.
And dammit, why is there so much sun?!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Damian snarls at Drake as he tries to get out of the knots his hands are in. “When I get out of here, Pretender, I will murder you.” He hisses. “I’ll leave your body for the fishes, they’ll never find you. They’ll never know it was me.” 

“That’s nice.” Drake responds. “But you should really blame Jason for this. He’s the one who gave me the idea.” 

“Then Todd is just as foolish as you are!” Damian shouts back. “I will end you both!” 

“Good fucking luck.” Drake mutters before swooping Damian into a Fireman’s Carry. 

“Drake! Unhand me!” Damian shouts and struggles. If he could just get to his knife-!

“You should be grateful. At least I’m not carrying you Fiona style.” Drake sighs as if Damian is the unreasonable one when HE’S the one being kidnapped here!

He carries Damian forward and after a fair bit of struggling, Damian finally sees that Drake is approaching a plane. A chill runs down his back. A plane could carry him anywhere. For all he knows, this is Drake finally getting his revenge for the times he attempted to murder him before. 

Perhaps Drake will get the plane in the sky, aim it for the nearest empty patch of ground, and jump out in a parachute. 

Maybe Drake is taking him back to the League.

Damian shakes his head, reminds himself that the League isn’t a threat anymore, Mother tore it apart after he-after he-

His own face, older, scarred, twisted with hate, burning in his gut- “No!” His mother, holding him for the first time since she sent him away.

“Leave him. He made his choice.” Grandfather sneers.

Drake plops him down in a seat and buckles him in. He takes a second to look Damian over and sighs. “Would you calm down? I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“You could never hurt me, I would kill you first.” Damian snarls back, even though he knows he’s lost his chance for that. Drake isn’t nearly so easy to attack after he came back from the League, let alone kill. 

“Sure kid. Just-” He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “I have permission from Bruce, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re officially cleared from school and patrol for the next week. Maybe a bit longer depending on how this goes.” 

That makes Damian hesitate. Father authorized this-this kidnapping? Then surely that means- but no, he can’t think that. Drake could be lying to him. 

“Look, I’ll explain in a minute okay? Just let me get us up in the air first.” Drake promises and backs away. Damian glares in response, but Drake nods as if Damian has agreed. “Great. Thanks.” 

After Drake leaves, Damian resumes his struggling, but the knots don’t give and the seatbelt doesn't shift. How vexing. He huffs with anger as he feels the plane begin to pull forward. 

The plane taxies over to the airfield, gains speed, and takes off with a pressure that leaves Damian pressed against the back of his seat. His ears pop as they gain height and eventually the pressure alleviates. His ears feel as though they’ve been stuffed with cotton, so Damian swallows to rid himself of the feeling. 

Eventually the plane levels out and Drake walks back out of the cabin. “Alright. So as I was saying before you so rudely attacked me- I’m taking you on a vacation.” 

“I do not need a vacation!” Damian shouts back, but inwardly he feels a curl of relief. Drake actually hadn’t said vacation earlier, just somewhere. The feeling is also joined by annoyance. If it was Grayson or Brown, Damian could understand the vacation. Both members of the family enjoyed taking time off for their own…activities and frequently requested his presence for them. But Drake is a workaholic, he never stops working, so Damian finds it extremely hypocritical that it’s DRAKE of all people dragging him from the Cave. For a vacation. 

Perhaps this is a lie?

“A vacation to learn how to swim.” 

“WHAT?! I told you, I know how to swim just fine!” Damian bristles and bares his teeth. He knew it was bad that Drake knew his weakness, but he never imagined Drake would kidnap him for it! 

“In a pool maybe. Oceans are weird, and you’re going-no. Wait, scratch that.” Drake sighs and rubs his eyes again. “Let me try that sentence again.” He looks up. “The ocean is a powerful foe, and I’m going to spend the next week teaching you how to conquer her.” 

“That is ridiculous. Why would YOU attempt to teach me this? Why not Grayson?” Damian demands. 

Drake scratches his chin. “I mean. I kinda figured you didn’t want me telling anyone else about this. Why? Do you want me to get Dick on the-” 

“No! I’m fine!” Damian shouts and attempts to kick Drake. 

Drake barely even sways to dodge the blow. “Right. So if you don’t want me telling anyone, then that means I have to deal with this before you get hurt.” 

“I did not agree to this!” 

“Too bad. We’re going.” 

Damian subsides back to glaring, his mind racing as he tries to figure out a way out of this-this ridiculous excursion. “Why are we on a plane?” He asks. “There are many beaches in Gotham alone.”

“Because if I have to spend the next week in the ocean, I’m going to one that won’t poison us….or give us the Black Death or some shit.” Drake answers dryly. He takes a seat across from Damian and picks up a remote. “We have about two hours until I have to go land the plane. What movie do you want to watch?” 

Damian stares at Drake as he realizes this is it. Drake really is kidnapping him and nothing he says will change the situation. Then he decides that if he has to be miserable, then he will make sure Drake suffers too. He thinks of the most inane movie he’s ever watched and slowly smirks. “Bee Movie.” 

For the first time, the impassivity on Drake’s face is replaced by annoyance. He raises the remote and flicks on the requested movie after several taps. Damian settles back in his chair to watch Drake lose his mind. Whatever’s left of it anyways. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Drake. Why is he imagining the woman in a dress? She was not wearing that before, surely he would picture her in-” 

“Because sexism, that’s why.” Drake groans, his head in hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fu- that- BEE court?!” Drake shudders. “That’s not how it works! At least-” His head flops back into his hands. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s not how pollination works. That’s not how ANY of this works-whyyyy?! Bees aren’t even the only pollinators!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Have you learned your lesson?” Damian asks smugly. 

“See if I ever do another favor for you again, I fucking dare you.” Drake stumbles out of the cabin and back up front. Moments later, Damian feels the plane begin its descent. He had to watch a most insufferable movie, but the victory he feels more than makes up for it. Damian sits back and relaxes.

A roar fills the air as they get close to the ground, more pressure pins him to his seat, and then the plane slowing down pulls him forward. Then the plane slows even further before rolling to a halt. 

Drake exits the pilot’s seat. “Are you going to stab me if I untie you now?” He asks warily. 

Damian glares, but holds his hands out. This seems to be good enough for Drake because he shrugs and quickly picks the knot apart. As soon as his hands are free, Damian grabs Drake’s hand and kicks his knee.

“Brat!” Drake growls back, swaying, but not going down. He backs off while Damian unbuckles his seatbelt. 

As soon as he stands, Drake shoves a suitcase into Damian’s hands and makes for the door, a second suitcase rolling behind him. Damian follows, mentally plotting out his eventual revenge. 

Murder might be off the table, but that just means he can get…creative.

Drake nods to acknowledge the staff, but Damian keeps his eyes forward and listens to the roll of his and Drake’s suitcases. As Drake leads him through the airport, Damian notices a ‘Welcome to Saint Petersburg’ sign. This does not tell him exactly where Drake has taken him, several such cities exist after all, so he scowls at the sign.

It’s not until they’re in a car driving for the hotel, that he sees the many Florida license plates.

“This is almost as bad as Metropolis.” He complains, squinting at the sun. “Why FLORIDA?” He sneers.

“Because there’s nothing here.” Drake answers. “No villains, no heroes. Well, I think there’s one villain Zatanna and JL Dark go up against some times, but he’s notoriously inactive. Barring global emergencies that require us to run back to Gotham, we should be uninterrupted for the whole week.” 

The hotel Drake leads him to is adequate, but not impressive. There are two beds, a dresser, a fridge, TV, and a microwave. The room is spotless and when Damian opens the balcony door, he’s greeted with the smell of the sea. 

It sickens him. 

Damian closes the door and sits on the edge of the nearest bed. “Well?” He asks icily. 

Drake plops in the other bed. He checks his watch. “Perfect timing. Dinner should be here in 5…4…3…2…1.”

There’s a knock at the door. Drake hauls himself back to his feet and, after carefully looking out the peephole, opens the door and accepts a cart of food. He rolls it inside the room, and the smells prompt Damian’s stomach to growl. “Dig in.” He says dryly, snagging two biscuits from the center of the cart and retreating to his chosen bed. 

Damian tries not to stare hungrily at the food. He hasn’t eaten in several hours and his body is already complaining. Living at the Manor truly has made him go soft. Why would Drake go to the trouble of feeding him though? Understanding comes to him in a flash. Damian narrows his eyes as he watches Drake get out his laptop. “No.” 

Drake takes another bite of biscuit before looking up. “Aren’t you hungry?” He asks pointedly. 

“I will not be poisoned so easily.” Damian snarls back. 

“Seriously?” Drake crooks an eyebrow up. “If I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t drag you to Florida to do it.” 

“Yes, but it will be easier for you to quietly dispose of my body here.” Damian hisses. 

“Oh for the love of-” Drake groans and closes his laptop almost mournfully. “If I eat with you, will you stop insisting I’m trying to poison you?” He asks warily. 

Damian considers this. “Yes, I would find that arrangement adequate.” 

Drake sighs as if this is a great hardship, then grabs the cart and shifts it between them. “Fine. But I’m only doing this because I don’t want Dick accusing me of starving you when we get back.” He grumbles as he starts putting a little of everything on his plate. 

Damian watches him like a hawk, but no additional oddities are added to the meal. Even so, he’s careful to eat only from what Drake has already eaten from. 

Drake rolls his eyes when he notices this, but says nothing else as he eats his food. 

Once they finish their dinner, Drake returns to his laptop. “You should get some rest. Lessons start tomorrow.” He says as his fingers rapidly type. 

“You are not in charge of me.” Damian scowls. 

Drake shrugs. “Your funeral. But if you’re too tired to do battle with the ocean, that’s on you, not me.” 

Damian bristles. “I will not be defeated by an oversized LAKE.” He sneers. “Just because other children are weak before it does not make me weak as well.” 

Drake does not even pause in his typing. “If you say so. You’re a big boy, you can make your own choices.” He says dryly. 

“I am glad you are aware of your own limits, Drake.” Damian sniffs, sitting imperiously on the edge of his chosen bed. 

“Your funeral.” Drake repeats.

Notes:

Tim: You should go to sleep. Big day tomorrow and all.
Also Tim: Sleep? What’s sleep? Me and Timothy have shit to do.

Chapter 3: The Ocean

Summary:

Tim takes Damian to the ocean. Surprisingly, no one is stabbed.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The salt air is sticky on Damian’s skin, and despite the early morning, the sun is already stinging. Damian picks at his breakfast, forcing himself to eat. In front of him, Drake does not have this problem. He’s already onto his third cup of coffee as he finishes off his omelet. 

Damian keeps a careful watch on his inferior brother as Drake stands up and begins to go through their suitcases. He pulls out swimming trunks, throwing one next to Damian and grabbing another for himself. “I’m going to change in the bathroom now.” Drake announces as he walks away. 

Obviously, this does not concern Damian. He focuses on his own breakfast, pretending exhaustion isn’t dragging at his limbs. He’s doing a lot of pretending right now, not that Damian is going to acknowledge that. 

Another forced bite later and he’s finally finished with the…adequate breakfast. Drake exits the bathroom in his chosen swimsuit. He goes to stand in front of the balcony. “I’d like us to get there before the rush.” He says. “Less people to-ah-spy on your training and all.” 

Damian sniffs. “Understood.” He grabs the swimsuit tentatively, by the corner of it, and strides into the bathroom. After he finishes changing, he steps out to see Drake standing by the door, holding a green bag. 

“I have everything we need in here.” Drake gestures with the bag and opens the door. 

Damian nods and marches through, a prisoner on his way to the execution block. Would his body even be found in the waves? 

~~~~~~~~~~

If he’d thought the air was sticky and hot in the air-conditioned hotel room, actually being by the ocean is ten times worse. While he waits for Drake to finish putting on sunscreen, he stares at the ocean with distaste, although an observer might think it in protest of the too-bright sun. 

The waves roll over the sand, back and forth in an almost hypnotic maneuver. The water rolls in, crashing against the sand, then rolls out almost gently in comparison, darkened sand lightening quickly in its absence.

“Here.” Drake says, breaking Damian from his concentration. 

“What?” Damian snaps, looking to see Drake offering him goggles. He rolls his eyes. “I have no need of such childish things.” He says. “I can keep my eyes open without assistance.” 

“Saltwater stings.” Drake shrugs. “Taking precautions is just expected.” He sets the goggles on top of the bag and stretches. “Are you ready?” He asks, stepping forward. 

Damian swallows. “Of course.” I will NOT show weakness. Not to Drake, not to anyone! 

Resolved, he walks into the waves. 

There isn’t a single stutter to his legs as he walks into the ocean. It helps that this ocean is much warmer than Gotham’s, the water much less…unpleasant. No, Damian is not going to admit that he’s glad Drake kidnapped him to here for these ‘lessons’. It’s just common sense that Gotham Bay is no place to swim. 

As Damian walks into the surf, he starts to feel a bit more confident. The ocean is nothing compared to me. I am far superior-

A bigger than normal wave crashes into his knees, toppling Damian to the ground. In seconds, he finds himself dragged out by the retreating wave. His back drags against the sand as if it’s sandpaper. His hands fly out, sinking into the sand, but there’s nothing to grab and he finds his hands running through the sand rather than holding. Water flies into his face, a too-salty taste invading his mouth as he spits the water out-

“Hold on, I have you.” Drake’s hand snags Damian by the arm and pulls him back to his feet.

Damian coughs and spits like a wet cat, his other hand wiping the water from his face as he tries to get his feet back under him while the battering of waves continues to try to force him off. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? I was not even waist deep yet!” He shouts, resenting his continued reliance on Drake to remain standing.

“You know, saying that this is like a battle isn’t really an exaggeration.” Drake says, his presence at his side the only sure thing for Damian at this moment. “You have to be prepared for a blow at any minute. See how I’m standing?” 

Damian looks. It is an even stance, one foot behind Drake as a brace. It is a very familiar position. He moves his feet and matches it. 

Instantly, he feels a lot better, no longer quite so tossed and turned by the waves. 

“I want you to take a minute and just feel the push and pull of it. And pay attention to the sand too.” Drake instructs as he releases Damian, his hand hovering beside his arm for a moment more before retreating.

“Why does that-” Damian stumbles just a step as the sand gives way beneath him, flowing out with the tide. “What?” 

“Yeah, the sand moves under your feet. You need to be prepared for that.” Drake nods, making his own minute adjustments. “So let’s just start by getting a feel for this alright?”

Damian scowls, but doesn’t object. He watches the water like it’s an invading army. He finds that thinking of it like that is almost…helpful. It attacks and retreats much like one, attempting to overwhelm him with sheer might. The unsteady terrain under him makes fighting back hard, but he can still stand through it. A shift here, a brace there… and everytime he stumbles, Drake is right there, putting him back on his feet.

“A lot of people say the water is unpredictable, and of course, they are right to a certain extent. You don’t know WHEN a big wave is suddenly going to show up. But you can feel it in the drag.” Drake looks out over the waves, face neutral, voice cool and soft. “As weird as the ocean is, it makes its own sense too. It’s just a matter of studying the rules.”

Pull. Push. Puuuull. Puuuush. Puull. Puush. Puuuuuull. Puuuuuush. With every pull, the sand beneath his feet shifts. There is no stable footing here in the ocean.

Yet through it all, Damian remains on his feet.

“Move forward whenever you’re ready.” Drake says. “I’m right here.” 

Damian doesn’t say how thankful he is for that. Instead, he nods and takes another step forward.

After an hour or two of that, Damian decides he is ready to go deeper and starts walking. The waves slap against his chest as he walks, pushing him back. The further he goes, the stronger it gets, and despite his best efforts, he finds himself swaying with the ocean’s push and pull, sliding back at times. He glances behind at Drake just in time to watch him seemingly float over the wave while remaining upright.

“How did you-?!” 

“I’ve found about two ways of getting through the waves without being tossed around by them. The first one, and the one you can do even if you can’t touch, is to go under the waves. It’s easier to deal with the tide if you’re not worried about a wave crashing on your head.” Drake says. “The second is to just jump right before the wave gets to you. The wave just…rolls on through and you’re left on top. But that only works well if you CAN touch. Otherwise it’s hard to get lift-off.” 

“Because if you can’t, there is nothing to push off of.” Damian surmises. 

“Yep.” 

Damian feels the drag of another incoming wave and jumps, but it doesn’t work. He finds himself pushed back through the water, flailing to get his feet back under him and-

“Whoa there, I got you.” Drake is there again, holding his arm to anchor him in place. 

“What is that?!” Damian growls. “I did as you said!” He spits a mouthful of saltwater out. 

“Jumping in the water to go over a wave isn’t the same as jumping in the air.” Drake says. 

“What are you talking about? Jumping is jumping!” Damian claws a hand over his face, dislodging the water dripping from it. 

“Yes, but you weren’t trying to float with the waves, you were trying to fight them.” Drake says so patiently, Damian is tempted to grab a knife from his bag and stab him. 

Richard would not approve of that, so he scowls instead and starts stomping back to the beach. After a moment, Drake follows. “Where are you going?”

“I’m hungry.” Damian snaps back. And tired. And I don’t want to be out here anymore. 

“I guess we have been out here for a few hours.” Drake hums. “Alright, let’s go.” 

Damian grits his teeth and bites his tongue. Oh, thank you for the permission Drake. I was absolutely waiting to hear your opinion there. 

The boys slog out of the water and back to their bag.

Chapter 4: Lunch

Summary:

Damian Learns a Little Bit about DID.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

If Tim didn’t know any better, he’d say Damian doesn’t want to be here, learning how to swim. But he does know better and he knows Damian just doesn’t want to do this with HIM. 

Which, again, is fine. It’s not like Tim is expecting much from this trip, he just doesn’t want Damian to get hu-to be a lia-

Tim can’t even think it, dammit.

Hey, let me take over lunch. Timothy says.

…? Are you sure that’s a good idea? You don’t usually… interact with the others. At least not when there isn’t a gala or something.

I know. But I’d like to…well, I’d like to try anyway. Please.

Once upon a time, Tim would have refused to take that chance. Back then he kept his life so strictly separated from his counterpart, kept absolute control over everything, but…that was before the time stream, before he lost his spleen, before…well, everything. 

Tim knows better now. 

Take a nap, I got this. Timothy says.

They switch. 

Timothy blinks his eyes open. His stride lengthens, hands slip from his pockets- only lazy people keep their hands in their pockets Timothy- his neutral expression is replaced by a small smile. 

“There’s a pretty decent vegetarian restaurant up this way.” Timothy says. “At least, the reviews say it is.”

Damian turns back and squints suspiciously at him. “That will be…adequate.” He says stiffly. 

“Great.” Timothy smiles a bit wider and leads the way at a relaxed pace. 

Things are quiet between him and Damian for the next several blocks, but Timothy doesn’t worry about it. Damian isn’t a chatter and, well, neither is he. 

“You’re different.” Damian suddenly says. 

“Oh?” Timothy hums. This isn’t the first time he’d interacted with Damian, the kid had been there for two years now, of course they’d talked, but neither he nor Tim had ever had a conversation with him about their condition. Jason is still the only person he’d ever outright confessed to, though most of the family are aware. 

Damian growls. “Drake slumps. And he’s always tapping things. Who are you?” 

“Interesting. You’ve never mentioned anything before.” Timothy says. He stops and stands against a building, facing Damian head-on. 

“So you admit that you are not Drake.” Damian bristles and Timothy can see the shine of a knife palmed in the younger’s hand.

His heart rate picks up, Timothy really doesn't want to be stabbed again. He could do without that, thanks. “Technically we’re both Drake.” Timothy answers. “Both our last names are Drake.”

Damian frowns, his face briefly twisting with confusion before he forcibly smooths it out. “Explain.” 

“It’s called Dissociative Identity Disorder.” Timothy says calmly. “Basically. Our parents were awful people and I developed to help Tim cope with that. I’m not an alien, or some outside influence taking over Tim’s mind.”

Boy had that been a weird month and Timothy hadn’t even had to deal with most of it.

“How do I know you are telling the truth?” Damian demands. The knife is a lot more visible now, poking out from his hands.

Timothy hums and looks up. “That’s the question, isn’t it? It’s only in our mind so we can’t really confirm it for anyone. There’s no solid proof that I exist. We just…are. The only proof that can be offered is trusting our word on what we are experiencing.” He's trying to play it cool; panicking will just scare the kid after all, but Timothy can't help but feel apprehensive about this. He knows Damian can be judgmental at times, knows this can go so wrong, but... but this kid is his little brother. He wants Damian to know him, see him. So he's going to take the risk Tim never would.

Damian scowls and Timothy has to stop himself from cooing at it. He’d always wanted a little brother-well, Tim had too, but Damian’s murder attempts had put him off. Now Tim is all twisted up about it and Timothy…well, Timothy had kept his distance. Mostly because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle it if Damian attacked them while he was in front. It had been a much-needed safety measure at the time, one that Timothy is fairly certain is no longer a concern.

He can’t help but think something will change now. Now that Tim is finally stepping up. That this whole trip MEANS something.

Or maybe Timothy is just an optimist and this whole venture is doomed but…

Naw. 

“Oh! Hey, you can always call Cass if you want someone to confirm. She knew from day one.” Timothy adds.

Damian’s scowl smooths into something more contemplative. Timothy watches the boy deliberate for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No, I do not require Cain’s input. I can draw my own conclusions.” The knife disappears.

Timothy chooses not to comment on that and simply turns around. “Lunch, right?” 

Two blocks later, Timothy and Damian are seated inside a restaurant, Timothy letting out a sigh of relief at being outside of the sun. He wishes he could just…slump in the chair, spread out and let the air conditioning do its thing, but he is far too well trained for that. And so too, is Damian. 

They both sit stiff and upright, but while Damian keeps his hands at his sides, Timothy folds his together. They peruse the menu for a little bit until the waitress comes for their order. 

“I’ll take the Bezelye Pilav.” Damian requests.

“I’d like the Falafel Platter please.” Timothy says. He grabs Damian’s menu and hands both it and his own to the waitress.

“Alright, we’ll get right on that.” She smiles, her eyes just slightly too wide, her grin twitching. She definitely recognizes them.

Well, considering ‘Tim’ had been shot on live TV last year, that is probably to be expected. It had apparently made national news after all.

Timothy turns back to Damian once she leaves, only to find him twirling a butter knife on the table, glaring intensely at it. 

“She knows.” Damian spits out.

“Probably. We ARE celebrities. Sort of.” Timothy folds his hands in front of him.

“EVERYONE is going to know where we are in an hour.” Damian says, as if Timothy needs it spelled out for him.

“Most likely.” Timothy sighs. He’s not happy with this either honestly, but he’s long since accepted the attention that comes with being rich. “But I promise, no one knows which hotel we’re staying at. And between you and Tim, no one is going to be able to follow us there. And hey, perks of being rich: if it gets too annoying, we can leave.”

Damian doesn’t smile, but he stops scowling so Timothy decides to call it a win.

He knows being famous is…well, an inconvenience at the best of times, but for Timothy the attention is something he’d dealt with most of his life. Damian on the other hand, had been raised in the shadows. It is different, Timothy thinks, then how Jason or Stephanie had grown up. 

Jason and Stephanie never expected to become famous, they’d never expected that to be in their cards. So for them, suddenly being shoved into the spotlight as Wayne and proxy must have been a real culture shock. Jason had told them stories about it, how overwhelming it had been, how he hadn’t understood what was expected of him. Jason talked about sitting down and counting the silverware because why were there so many fucking forks? 

Stephanie’s stories were even worse. Jason had been protected by everyone knowing he was a Wayne and if they pushed too far, Bruce would come down hard on them. But Stephanie was just ‘the girlfriend’ and later, ‘the best friend’. A lot of people thought they could get away with whatever they liked because of that. More fool them, Stephanie is very good at getting her own revenge.

Of course, Damian has his own culture shock at play. But it is different, because while he might have been raised an assassin, he’d also been raised a prince. That came with training, expectations, Damian knows about the forks and spoons, knows stabbing people is an after-dinner thing, not a during dinner thing because only sloppy assassins stab during dinner time apparently. (Timothy would love to hear the reasoning behind that!) No, what Damian hadn’t been prepared for was the ATTENTION. Even an undercover assassin at a party only expected to have to play up a charming figure who made the rounds like anyone else and disappeared before they were too memorable. But Damian is a Wayne, and people ALWAYS pay attention to Wayne’s. 

All of this to say, Timothy is fairly certain Damian is very uncomfortable with their status of ‘famous’. He’d certainly never seen Damian smile after getting recognized in the streets. Usually he looks, well, like he’d looked a minute ago. Angry, which he is pretty sure is a cover for stress. 

Well, he can’t let his little brother’s whole day be ruined now, can he? Timothy pulls his phone out underneath his table and starts tapping.

Afterwards, their food is brought out quickly, eaten with the slow patience trained into the rich and powerful- only the lower class SCARF their food Timothy- , and then paid for with a fifty-dollar tip left on the table and conveniently off the receipt.

“Do you want to go back to the beach or do you want to do something fun?” Timothy asks as they leave the restaurant.

Damian looks at him skeptically. “What do you propose?” 

Timothy grins.

Notes:

I didn’t know what to do for this chapter but then Timothy said he wanted to have a turn as Damian’s big brother so. Yeah.
Me: A twenty dollar tip is enough right? That’s like. What someone would tip if they had the money for it, yeah?
Also me: They’re billionaires dude. They have no concept of normal tipping.
Also also me: …shit you’re right.

Chapter 5: Clearwater Aquarium

Summary:

Timothy has a plan to become Damian's favorite brother, and it revolves around Damian's favorite thing: animals.

Notes:

Fun fact! I actually went to the Clearwater Aquarium once and saw Winter the dolphin, who sadly passed away in 2021.
…Luckily for our boys, this fic takes place in 2014!
Anyways, I do want to give a heads up, Damian is going to be thinking a lot about Tim’s DID for the first few paragraphs, and Damian isn’t very well educated on the topic. I’m writing him as very confused and not really understanding, but not outright malicious (outside of considering stabbing Tim and Timothy, but that’s just because he’s inherited his dad’s paranoia). Please view Damian’s POV with that in mind here.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Timothy is…weird. To say the least. It’s Drake’s face; that can not be denied. Damian has spent too much time with him prior to the switch to think there had been an imposter this entire time. But it is strange how…completely he had changed in a mere second.

It is enough for him to realize that he had seen Timothy before. He’d just always assumed it was Drake’s ‘gala mask’. He’d told himself Drake acted differently because they were under scrutiny and Drake had made a choice about how to present himself, just like Father and the rest of his siblings did. (Except Todd of course, because Todd was legally dead and no longer had to deal with these events.)

Realizing that was probably the only reason he didn’t stab Timothy right then and there. He still isn’t certain Timothy had been telling the truth or if this is a prank, but there is enough evidence to give him the benefit of the doubt. For now. 

As Damian sits in the cab and watches Timothy scroll on his phone however, he can’t help but wonder if that faith is misplaced. He has no idea where they are going, and the longer it takes to get there, the more his sense of danger goes up. 

The only response he’s gotten so far about where they are going was, ‘you’ll see’ and ‘you’ll like it’, both responses which are disturbingly vague. Damian palms his knife and reminds himself that even if this Timothy IS actually some imposter, he is at least much less trained than Drake himself is. His entire form is full of openings, and he is completely unarmed as well. 

Satisfied, Damian lets his knife slip back into its sheath and settles back against the seat. A few minutes later, the car pulls up in front of a large building. He spots the words ‘Clearwater Marine Aquarium’ and can’t help but straighten up again, suspicions falling away in his eagerness. 

“This is where Winter lives isn’t it?” He whips around to face Timothy. 

The older boy grins and slips his phone into his pocket. “Yep. I had a feeling you knew about this place.” 

Damian exits the car without responding. 

It’s not his first time at an aquarium of course. Father has taken him to the one in Gotham and Richard has taken him twice to the one in Metropolis after all. But this particular aquarium is one he’s wanted to visit since he heard about the lengths they went to in order to save the dolphin, Winter. Crafting a prosthetic for a dolphin? It hardly sounds feasible, yet they did it.

It’s…admirable, that’s all. Even if it will never be enough to return Winter to the ocean, it is a decision that saved the dolphin’s life, and effort they didn’t have to expend. No one would have judged them, after all, if they’d failed.

He’s so deep inside his thoughts that he doesn’t notice how Timothy twists to the side to cough a few times.

Instead, a moment later, Timothy leads the way inside the building and while of course, Damian does not do anything so undignified as to bounce on his toes or run…

Well. He certainly isn’t WALKING as he strides through the doors. 

Damian explores the aquarium for the next four hours or so, almost forgetting completely about Drake and Timothy. Their presence at his side is unobtrusive and neither see fit to begin a conversation with him. 

Instead, it’s Damian who speaks as he learns about dolphins, sea turtles, otters, and many of the other animals and fish that call this aquarium home, however temporarily. He tells Timothy about the aquarium’s conservation efforts, talks about how ocean pollution has impacted these animals and their home, complains about how inhospitable the Gotham Harbor is to these amazing animals. 

Best of all, Timothy had signed him up for a ‘personal’ encounter with Winter herself. Halfway through the tour, Damian finds himself sitting on a platform in Winter’s pool, next to a handler who lures Winter over for him to touch. 

Her skin is rubbery beneath his own. His eyes widen, and so entranced by the dolphin is he that he fails to notice the camera flash.

After the encounter, he speaks of every fact he knows, every description of the encounter, it all falls from his lips as he tells Timothy everything.

Throughout it all, Timothy listens to him attentively, interjecting with the occasional question and only insisting they stop at the gift shop on the way out.

It’s after that, as they exit the building, that Damian remembers to be suspicious of Timothy. He scowls as he realizes he spent over four hours RELAXED in this stranger’s presence, as if he is as safe with Timothy as he is with Richard. Ridiculous. 

But…well, perhaps not unwarranted. Learning about the animals that call this planet home and how to take care of them are worthwhile goals. It’s only understandable that he would be distracted by this, clearly Timothy knew what he was doing when he chose this place. 

Damian nods, satisfied with this conclusion. Of course, this doesn’t mean he shouldn’t rectify his mistake though, so he turns his attention back to Timothy.

He eyes the suspicious gift bag Timothy holds tightly closed. He hadn’t seen Timothy’s purchase earlier, he’d bought his items separate from Damian, and then gone ahead and bought Damian’s as well, as if he wasn’t more than capable of affording his choices. Ridiculous, again. 

Timothy rubs his head with a wince and checks his watch. “Let’s get back to the hotel.” He says shortly. “It’ll get dark in a few hours anyway, might as well get back to the swimming lessons tomorrow.” 

Damian’s good mood falls like a lead balloon. His scowl returns and he glares to the side. “Yes, we should return quickly.” He says in a clipped tone, then curses himself for allowing his control to slip like so. He’s as bad as Richard if he cannot maintain neutrality!

Timothy looks up and his head cocks to the side as he studies Damian. “Right…” He says slowly. 

Damian braces, waiting for him to say something, anything, to tear upon this weakness he has released, but instead he turns away and calls for a taxi. Timothy doesn’t comment the entire way home about Damian’s sudden switch in mood or what it indicates about him, something Damian feels just a little…only a little really…grateful for. 

It’s not like he likes Timothy. There’s no reason to, the boy’s a stranger! He just appreciates that Timothy holds some measure of tact. Much more than Drake does too.

They get to the hotel and Damian notices Timothy is once again rubbing his head as if it pains him. 

“What is wrong with you?” Damian asks bluntly. 

Timothy cracks an eye open. “Head-ache. Sorry, not trying to let it get in our way.” He apologizes. 

Damian sniffs. “There is nothing to make amends for. Richard tells me often that we cannot control when or how we feel pain. Only how we react to said pain. You’ve done nothing to dishonor yourself.” 

Timothy smiles brighter than he’s ever seen Drake do. “Aww, that’s really sweet of you to say!” 

There’s something about the look on his face that sets Damian on edge, and it takes him only a second to figure it out. Richard looks much the same before gathering Damian into one of his horrible warmhugs. 

Damian narrows his eyes and lets his knife flash in the sun as a small warning. 

Timothy’s shoulders slump, his smile disappearing. It’s fascinating how Timothy is much more expressive than Drake. As if everything about him is less guarded. 

Not that that’s a good thing. Honestly, someone could easily kill him if Timothy isn’t mindful. It is clear Damian will have to keep a very careful watch on him, especially at future galas. 

He nods sharply to himself before walking into their hotel room. That’s when he hears it. A cough. 

It’s a forced sort of noise, like it had been held back for some time. Then there’s another, and like a dam breaking, there’s a rapid series of more coughs. 

Damian turns around to tell Timothy to hurry up, but freezes as he sees that the sounds are originating from him. 

Timothy clutches at the door frame, half-bent over as he coughs, breath wheezing through his lungs. Damian… doesn’t know what to do about it. Not at first, he’s too busy staring, shocked at the sudden turn in the other’s health. 

Then his training kicks in and he strides over to Timothy, helping the older boy take a seat on the couch. Water, he knows, would not be good right now. As things stand, he risks it going down the wrong pipe. He can prepare a glass though, ready for once the coughing fit is over, so he does. 

He hovers over Timothy, thinking about how Richard would rub his own back when he didn’t feel well, but not sure if he’s welcome to do it here. 

It takes over a minute, far too long, for Timothy to regain control over his own breathing. “Sorry. Frog in my throat, don’t worry about it.” Timothy mumbles. 

Damian narrows his eyes. “That is an abysmal lie.” He says. 

Timothy’s only response is to laugh. 

Damian doesn’t see what’s so funny. 

Notes:

Look, all I’m saying is that airports are filthy places filled with hundreds of people passing through every day and SOMEONE should have taken an extra antibiotic as a precaution before walking through one. But this wouldn’t be a post-Bruce in the timestream fic if we didn’t mention where Tim’s spleen went right?

Chapter 6: Let Me Ex-Spleen

Summary:

Tim's secret has been revealed and now there's only one question to ask. What will Damian do about it?

Notes:

Get it? Cause the explanation is: I don’t have a spleen? Laugh already. My works are criminally short on puns so let me have this dammit.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tim pries his eyes open to a dimly-lit room, but even that little light is enough to make him screw his eyes shut again. His head hurts, his throat feels thick and scratchy, and his nose feels…well, about as useful as a monkey in a courtroom. 

For a moment, Tim can’t remember where he is or who he’s with. His thoughts run thick as jelly as he wonders if he’s been kidnapped again. Perhaps Ra’s had come to finish what he’d started, no one knows where he went after Talia betrayed him for Damian after all… Slowly, slowly his thoughts begin to turn as he remembers he’s not the one who was kidnapped.

No, that was him kidnapping Damian and taking him to Florida for swimming lessons. He remembers Timothy taking the front during lunchtime… but things start getting fuzzy as he tries to remember the cab ride back to the hotel. Did they make it there? Were they ambushed? Was Damian okay?

Timothy, what happened? Why’s my head hurt so damn bad?

Shhh, go back to sleep, we’re sick… Timothy mumbles back. 

What? No we’re not. We have WORK.

Sick day. No work. Comes Timothy’s semi-coherent response.

Tim forces his eyes open, ignoring Timothy’s groan of protest. He blinks several times as he tries to comprehend his current circumstances. 

Why is he half-naked in a bathtub full of luke-warm water? 

Why is Damian perched on the toilet and staring at him like Tim will run if Damian so much as blinks?

Why is the light off?

“Are you finally coherent?” Damian interrupts this vital thought process.

“What?” Tim croaks out.

“You have said nothing but utter gibberish for two days now.” Damian says flatly. 

“Two days-!” Tim lunges upwards, water splattering over the side of the tub at the movement. Pain lances through his body, his arms spasm, and Tim falls back into the tub with a groan he quickly bites off. 

Not quick enough though. 

Damian, somehow, is already there, supporting Tim’s back and turning his uncontrolled fall into a…well, something that is much less likely to end with Tim bashing his head on the side of the tub.

“Tt. Hopeless.” Damian mutters as he retreats. “Even if your mental faculties have returned-” He pauses here to pointedly stare at Tim, expression clearly saying, which I doubt, “-you have not recovered nearly enough strength to move by yourself.” 

“Yeah, got that message.” Tim’s arm shakes as he runs a hand through his hair. He closes his eyes as forcefully as he can manage, then blinks them open several times as he furiously tries to force his mind to work correctly. 

There’s silence in the room for a minute, Tim’s mind running through everything he’s missed, the cases he’s fallen behind on, the paperwork that still needs done, when-

“Why did you say Grandfather has your spleen?” Damian asks.

If it had been another day, one where Tim wasn’t currently recovering from an illness. If he’d had all of his strength and mind on hand, Tim could have hid it. He could have laughed and told a lie, anything to shake off suspicion. He could have picked a fight until Damian forgot about what he’d heard, whatever Tim had said in his fever haze. 

But Tim’s head is pounding like Harley had taken a mallet to it, weakness running through his limbs and making them shake. Every word he’d said had run like sandpaper through his throat, and if someone had told Tim that he was spitting up blood, he wouldn’t have been surprised. 

So Tim does something he would never have thought possible of him. Least of all with Damian, not when the stakes are so high.

He tells the truth. 

“Exactly what I said. Pretty sure he keeps my spleen in a jar somewhere.” He whispers his confession and tries not to shiver. And if he fails, well…maybe the water’s a bit colder than you’d think. It has nothing to do with Damian being the first Bat to learn the truth about his condition.

Damian cocks his head to the side in a bird-like motion, a family motion. Tim would know, because he does the same thing. So does Jason and Dick. All Robin’s, passing down their traits as if they really were brothers who’d spent their entire lives together.

Tim’s busy imagining a daisy chain of Robin’s, passing things down to the Robin below when Damian speaks again.

“This is not in your file.”

It’s not a question, but Tim clenches his hands and answers anyway. “No. They can’t- they can’t know.”

“It is relevant medical information.” Damian says, and Tim feels his heart clench with panic, his lungs struggling to fill themselves. He straightens up, shaking arms desperately trying to hold himself steady as he stares at Damian.

“Please.” Tim rasps. “Please don’t tell them Damian.”

The young boy doesn’t answer, only watching him with unreadable eyes. The panic builds in Tim’s chest because he can’t- if they find out- Tim can’t let them find out, but he is all too aware that Damian is the one with power over that now. If Damian chooses to reveal it, that’s it. They’ll all know. 

Tim can’t help but remember how every time Damian’s held power over him, it hasn’t exactly ended well.

“It’s not a big deal.” Tim tries to stand up, his arms shaking with the effort as he gathers his legs beneath him. “Look, loads of people walk around without spleens, it just means I have to be extra careful about infections-“ Tim breaks off with a cough before he can continue. “And I am! Usually.” 

Damian still says nothing, and Tim feels himself grow more desperate in a way he loathes. “Look, Leslie knows okay? ‘S how I get my prescription filled, so it’s fine, it’s not a big deal, it’s hardly relevant.”

“Neither is swimming.” Damian finally says.

Tim’s mouth shuts of its own volition. He sways a little bit, mind running so fast now that he can’t understand his own thoughts. It feels like understanding. It feels like complete incomprehension. What does he know that he can’t make out?

“What?” Tim doesn’t know if he’s asking himself or Damian that.

“You could have told Richard about my-my weakness. Or Father.” Damian stands up, forcing Tim to tilt his head upwards if he wants to keep looking in Damian’s eyes. “Instead, you brought me down here to remedy it in private.”

Tim must be losing brain cells, because he still doesn’t understand what Damian is getting at. “You can’t regrow a spleen.” He says. 

“No.” Damian agrees. “But if you are going to guard a weakness of mine, then it seems only right that I guard a weakness of yours.” 

“...Wait, really?” Tim blinks in shock. 

Damian huffs and heads for the door. “I will not say it twice.” He snaps. The door closes behind the boy, leaving Tim in darkness, but not before Tim spots the faintest hints of red in Damian’s ears.

Alone in the dark, the only light coming from a little green dot by the light switch, Tim looks down at where his hands should be, trying to understand what exactly just happened.

You know what this means Tim? Timothy asks. 

No.

I definitely have a chance at becoming Damian’s favorite brother. The words are smug and giddy, Tim can practically see Timothy rubbing his hands together with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. 

  Dude. Now is NOT the time for your schemes. Tim groans. I have to figure out how long this is going to last before Damian decides-before he-

OR! And hear me out here. Or, you could towel yourself off and go lie down until you’re feeling better. You know, take care of your health? Fun stuff like that? Timothy suggests dryly. 

You’re one to talk. Tim growls back while massaging his forehead.

Excuse you, but who do you think has been managing your health for years? Because it certainly wasn’t Mr. ‘I just threw up but I’m going to go Batwatching for the fourth night in a row’ over there. Timothy retorts, and now he’s standing, his strange sense of older brotherhood pressing down on Tim. Go to bed. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow. He adds in a gentler tone. 

It’s with great reluctance that Tim agrees. 

He doesn’t even remember falling into bed after that.

Notes:

Sorry this took so long ya’ll. Classes ya know? At any rate, I’m thinking I’m just about finished with this story, probably only take another chapter or two to wrap up.

Chapter 7: A New Balance

Summary:

Tim and Damian come home. It takes Tim a little bit to realize things have changed between them.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Two days afterwards, Tim wakes up healthy again and things quickly settle into a routine. In the morning, Tim takes Damian back to the beach for more swimming lessons. Then Timothy would take over sometime during lunch and he’d take Damian out for ‘bonding’. Tim didn’t know exactly what they were doing together, but he understood the gist. Art museums. The zoo. 

Tim was obviously not jealous of this and had absolutely no thoughts on how Timothy got to have fun with Damian without the kid stabbing him. 

NONE.

Anyway, Tim usually got the front again after dinner and by then, they were always back at the hotel. Tim usually spent that time catching up on casework while Damian took over the balcony for…reasons Damian threatened to disembowel him for if Tim tried to peek at it. 

Like he said, Tim was absolutely not jealous of Timothy for getting to hang out with Damian without being stabbed. 

It wouldn’t have been hard to peek anyway, the room was only so big and there was no way Damian was watching the curtains all the time, or even able to see all of the curtains at all times. But Tim’s nosy, not suicidal, and just because Damian can’t be watching the curtains at all times doesn’t mean he won’t be watching the one time he peeks, so for now, he lets the kid have his space and directs his focus onto cases and signing off on any important WE work. Usually WE was Timothy’s job, but Timothy is actually serious about this being vacation time, so Tim just covers for him. 

In the end, Tim gets a few days extension to make up for the time lost by him getting sick, but by the end of it all, Damian knows every trick in the book on how to swim and it’s time to get back to Gotham. 

Packing up their bags again takes Tim almost no time at all, but before he can turn to leave the hotel room, Damian pointedly clears his throat. Tim pauses, hovering by the open door way. “What’s up?”

“As thanks for your efforts, I have created this painting for you.” Damian says stiffly. He opens up the balcony curtains for the first time in almost a week. Tim’s only response is wide-eyed shock as Damian reaches outside and brings in a canvas covered by a cloth. He holds it out towards Tim. 

For a moment, Tim doesn’t move, convinced this is a trap of some sort, but nothing happens and something is shuttering in Damian’s eyes the longer he takes. Something he hates to see. So Tim accepts the painting, slowly moving the cloth off it to get his first look. 

The painting is a landscape one, showcasing the ocean Tim had been taking Damian to for days now. The waves are large, crashing on the beach so vividly, sending white spray into the air, Tim almost thinks he can smell the salt…or maybe that’s just the air from when Damian opened the balcony door. 

A red robin flies overhead, its colors a bold and glaring contrast to the ocean. Next to it is a somewhat smaller bird that flies in the shadow of the red robin’s wings. It’s… undeniably beautiful. 

“Thanks Damian.” Tim manages to say, voice just a little choked as he carefully cradles the painting. 

“Tt. I have already said that this painting is in thanks for your efforts. You do not need to thank me for offering thanks.” Damian scoffs, sweeping out of the room and grabbing a suitcase on the way out. 

For a few minutes, Tim just stares at the painting, unable to force his feet to move. He feels like crying. He wants to take the painting with him everywhere he goes. He resolves to hang this painting up in a place of pride somewhere. In his office where everyone can see it? In his room so he can look at it every night?

A part of him reminds himself that he can’t read into this too much, that Damian didn’t give him this out of any real affection, but the stupid, clingy kid part of himself that never stopped screaming for family wants to believe otherwise. 

Tim does not know what to think, so he shelves it in the back of his mind and shakes himself. It’s time to go home, not stand around and stare at a painting that could mean anything. So Tim does what he does best: shoves the emotional shit to the back of his mind and does what needs doing.

This time around, the trip back home is relatively simple. It helps not having to kidnap his own little brother after all. 

And thank fuck, the little demon brat doesn’t request to watch Bee Movie this time around. No, instead he’s treated to a two hour long documentary on the life of bees, because the demon brat is a little shit.

When Tim lands the plane and they leave, it’s Alfred they find waiting for them. 

“I dare say Master Tim, have you perhaps gained a small tan?” Alfred’s voice is dry as bone as he looks Tim up and down. 

Tim ducks his head and sighs, painfully regretting the fact that he is literally the palest human being he knows. The sun always burns him red as a lobster even when he’s so damn careful about using sunscreen. 

“Missed you too Alfred.” He says with a wry smile. 

“And Master Damian. I do hope you enjoyed yourself this past week.” Alfred takes their suitcases and puts them in the trunk.

“It was an informative week.” Damian responds.

“I am glad.” A brief smile flickers across Alfred’s face before he opens the vehicle’s doors.

Damian gets in front, a privilege he’s never passed up on since turning twelve, while Tim gets in the back. As he watches the airport disappear into the distance, he sighs. Tim knows that their little truce could never last forever, and with their vacation over and Damian’s swimming lessons finished, he’s fairly certain that Damian is going to go right back to hating Tim. 

He just hopes Damian won’t start telling everyone about his missing spleen. It’d be a headache and a half to have to explain to everyone what exactly happened while Bruce was lost in time. Just the bare bones explanation had taken hours to get through because of everyone’s questions. 

Trust him. He’s a good kid. Timothy whispers. 

That’s easy for you to say. He’s never tried to stab you. Tim responds. 

Naw, but he had the knife ready the whole time. Timothy says casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all.

He WHAT?! Tim’s mental voice screeches, but Timothy only hums in response and doesn’t elaborate no matter how Tim cajoles and threatens. And he’s indescribably smug about it too, the bastard. 

By the time Tim gives up, they’re back at the Manor and Tim figures it’s time for things to go back to normal anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things do not go back to normal. Over the next week, Tim finds himself aggressively stalked by the Demon Brat. Why? He doesn’t know. He can only assume that Damian is mad about something. 

Perhaps that it was Tim who uncovered his secret? Perhaps he really would have preferred if Dick had taught him how to swim? Maybe Damian just wants to make sure he doesn’t tell everyone the real reason they went to Florida? 

Regardless, every time Tim signs on for patrol, Damian soon shows up, stalking him across the rooftops for seemingly no reason! And the other day when Bruce assigned him a case and told him Damian would also be on the case, Damian didn’t even complain?! Just told him to keep up and left?? 

For some reason, Timothy finds all of this absolutely hilarious and not the growing threat that it is. Tim has decided to ignore Timothy because clearly, Timothy has no sense of danger. 

But all of this is why Tim is spending the night at the Manor instead of his Nest. Because it’s been a week of Tim trying to avoid Damian while the kid stalks him all over Gotham, and he’s done. 

He’s going to find out what the Demon Brat’s plan is BEFORE he gets shoved off the dinosaur again dammit.

Today is a Thursday and Thursday’s are Damian’s volunteer days. Now, technically, Tim is supposed to be at WE, and to be fair, he did go and spend his morning there since Damian’s volunteer shift was in the afternoon. He just also left work far earlier than normal, arriving at the Manor precisely five minutes after Damian’s left. 

Carefully, Tim maneuvers through the security system without setting it off- thank you Jason- and enters the Manor through Jason’s old bedroom window. 

Damian’s room is just down the hall from Jason’s room, but Tim doesn’t want to get caught now so before he exits, he pauses and listens. While Alfred should be gone, dropping Damian off at the animal shelter right now, it’s honestly a toss-up on which of his siblings might be present. Cass at the least has temporarily gone back to Hong Kong, and Stephanie should be in class, but Dick’s just as likely to be here as he is to be watching over the rebuilding of Blüdhaven, and Jason’s in and out like a feral cat.

Hearing nothing, Tim slips out of Jason’s bedroom and down the corridor. Stopping outside of Damian’s bedroom, Tim scans the hallway one last time for evidence of his siblings. Finding none, he slips his lockpicks out and quickly picks the lock on Damian’s door.

The door opens with the slightest of creaks and Tim winces. Of course Damian wouldn’t allow his door hinges to be oiled, he’d love that extra warning before someone entered his room. 

A piece of paper flutters to the ground and Tim makes a mental note to replace it before he leaves. No need to tip Damian off to his intrusion. 

Standing inside Damian’s room, Tim doesn’t see any obvious signs of what Damian is planning, but that doesn’t mean much. It’s not like Damian is sloppy enough to leave out blueprints for his evil plans. 

Tim keeps his presence light, gloves on to prevent leaving fingerprints and everything carefully returned to its proper place after he finishes searching through it. He finds fourteen contraband daggers, but that’s only to be expected from Damian. Tim taps the walls, searches for trap doors and the like, but those daggers are the only things he finds.

“Shit.” Tim curses. He leaves the room, making sure to replace Damian’s paper, and relocks the door. The entire search had taken up over an hour though, and he knows Damian will soon be home. He’ll have to search for more clues another time, perhaps in Damian’s art studio?

Tim leaves the same way he came in, with everyone none the wiser.

…or so he thought.

“Drake! How dare you invade my room!” Damian snarls as he barges into Tim’s room. 

“What are you talking about?” Tim lies. “I’ve been at WE the whole day.”

“My room was entered while I was away. Richard would not have done this and Todd doesn’t even enter his own room, let alone others. Alfred only enters my room to clean on Mondays and Father is in space.” Damian counts off. “The culprit could only have been you!”

“You sure it wasn’t Steph? Maybe she stopped by after class.” Tim suggests.

“If Brown had invaded my room, she would have left one of her inane pranks.” Damian sniffs.

…Shit. He’s right. Carefully, Tim puts his laptop down. “Okay, it was me.” He admits, rolling onto his feet to be ready for incoming attacks. 

“I knew it! Explain yourself you coward!” Damian growls, a knife flashing in the light as he palms one.

A prickle of irritation runs through Tim and he bristles. “Well why have YOU been stalking me?” He demands. 

“Irrelevant. We are discussing your transgression right now!” Damian shoots back, not even denying the stalking accusation. 

“It’s completely relevant! If you weren’t stalking me, I wouldn’t have been searching your room for clues as to why!” Tim accuses. 

“I was only-” Damian cuts himself off and looks away with a huff. His arms cross defensively and Tim notices Damian’s ears redden. “I said I would protect your weakness. I cannot do that if I am not present.”

“I-wait-the-” Tim’s hand hovers over the place where his spleen used to reside and Damian just nods. 

“I will not rest in your debt.” He growls.

“I…huh.” Tim sits back down as he feels himself go through a hard reboot. 

Was Damian, the Demon Brat, the Robin who shoved Tim off a dinosaur and cut his line, that Damian…actually trying to be nice to Tim? “Oh…kay?”

“You will stay out of my room in the future.” Damian orders. 

“...Sure.”

“Good. So long as we understand each other, I will not demand recompense.” Damian nods shortly.

“...That sounds great Dames.” Tim feels so lost, but Damian doesn’t seem to be having any trouble at all as he marches out of Tim’s room. It occurs to him that he probably should have made his own demands like, ‘stop stalking me’, but the thought is distant and quiet, the larger part of his mind still buffering.

As Tim’s mind slowly processes that mostly peaceful argument, a thought occurs to him. 

Maybe…maybe Damian doesn’t hate me after all? …Maybe he actually respects me? A little bit?

Tim thinks of the painting currently hanging up in his office. He thinks about how even though Damian had been following him around for a week now, Damian had never attacked him. Hadn’t done it even though Tim had basically provoked him. 

A small smile appears on his face.

I told you he was a good kid. Timothy says, as smug as always.

Tim can only agree.

Notes:

Ya’ll, I am so happy to finally be done with present tense. I’ve been fighting with that tense through this whole story so to finally be free of it? I. Love. It. I am never doing present tense again.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed! I didn’t want Damian and Tim to lose that antagonistic edge TOO much, but I really wanted to make it clear that it’s now firmly in the sibling rivalry camp.
Anyway, Damian obviously wasn’t about to tell Tim how he knew someone entered his room so I’m just gonna tell you here. He did the Death Note trick with a piece of pencil lead. The paper was just a red herring because obviously he’d have SOME way of checking to see if someone entered his room while he was gone. Not having something like that would have led an intruding Bat to search for the mechanism.
All the Bats have some sort of system on their doors to alert them to invaders of course. And I just wanna leave you with this quick Tim and Jason bonus scene.
*The next day, mid-morning, Wayne Manor Kitchen…*
As Tim raised his coffee cup to his lips, a large hand reached over and plucked it from his grasp. “Hey!” Tim complained, already reaching for it.
Jason, the asshole, raised the cup in the air and away from Tim. “So Timberlina. What were ya sneakin’ into the Manor fer yesterday?”
“What? How-” Tim blamed the lack of lying on the fact that his coffee had been stolen. It was always harder to lie right when his coffee was gone.
“Ya really think I showed ya a secret way into the Manor and DIDN’T cover it wit’ my own alarms?” Jason drawled.
Betrayal from his own brother. Tim stared mournfully at his coffee and suspected he would not be getting it back.

 

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