Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Soft rain falls on his bedroom's window, a relaxing and quiet song that Tim listens to as he looks at his computer.

Things have finally settled down, now that Bruce is back. After some weeks, he took back his position as CEO of Wayne Enterprises, but he couldn't ignore how well Tim had managed the company, so he offered Tim an internship in the marketing and design department. Tim was relieved by this, being a CEO wasn't really for him, even if he was good at it his father made sure he was, but he  loves photography, so working in the design of things is very cool. And also, he's very good with technology, and no one else is young enough to make ads that work on Tiktok.

The only problem here is that Tim has been getting a bit too focused on his work in WE, and now he needs to finish this essay for history due tomorrow. And that wouldn't be a problem, but Tim had to finish editing some photos for a weird photography contest his art teacher made him participate in and now it's 4AM, and he has to go to school in less than three hours. Yippee.

And that also wouldn't be a problem, he has pulled  a lot of all nighters in his life, but Bruce is in a weird fixation of his coffee intake and has taken all of his stash from his bedroom. Oh! And Tim can't go downstairs to make some because if someone notices he wasn't asleep he will get benched. 

Tim's life is a tragedy, a very cruel one.

Okay, time to get back to that damn essay, Tim. Enough time feeling sorry for yourself.

Tim has regretted multiple things in his life, but accepting to go with Bernard to that party easily made it to the top ten.

Don’t get him wrong, it had been really  fun. Bernard had introduced him to a few of his friends that invited them to the party to begin with, and they were very nice. They had played fuck marry kill (He was weirdly put into a lot of people options, most of them choosing fuck. Tim thinks it was funny joke. Although his heart did funny things when Bernard asked if he could put him in both marry and fuck.)

Anyways, at the end of the night Tim can admit he got a bit drunker than he originally planned.

Tim slips through the same window he had snuck out from hours ago, but he finds that he isn’t alone.

Bruce is patiently waiting for him in a nearby chair.

So yeah, Tim regrets going to the fucking party, because for some reason Bruce wants to know where he is at all times.

Ugh, he still isn’t used to adults being like this.

Tim listens at the sound his pen makes against the paper as he does his homework. It's a calming, quiet noise that eases up Tim's lingering anxiety after his fight with Bruce last night. Or well, more like morning. It was 7AM when he got back. Which probably was what made Bruce notice he was gone. But hey, he managed to hide from him that he was drunk!

Bruce had grounded him until further notice, and told him to go to his room, and Tim knew better than to openly disobey adults. So he took the longest and most precious nap of his life and woke up at 5PM. Tim has been working for a couple of hours now, but he is still fucking confused. Honestly, and helplessly clueless to Bruce's anger. He had an A in every subject, he had submitted every report on time and had cracked all the cases Bruce had sent him. Like, him going to the fucking party with Bernard hadn't affected him! 

So when Bruce started lecturing him, Tim couldn't bring himself to argue because he didn't understand.

But anyways, there's nothing he can do about it now. 

So Tim keeps working on his homework, and then on a few protect for WE. Now that he can't patrol, he might be able to catch up on his sleep, so it isn't all bad. 

He ends up going to bed at 1AM, so mission accomplished, he guesses.

Tim is exhausted  after school. 

Tomorrow he doesn’t have class, they have a weird holiday thing and only went on monday. Not that it means anything, with Bruce grounding him yesterday and all that. But hey, at least he doesn't have to wake up early.

He walks through the entrance as quietly as he can, and manages to make it to his bedroom without being seen by Damian. He really isn't in the mood to be taunted for being grounded right now, even if Damian's insults are less venomous nowadays.

He turns on his computer and resumes his work.

God he hates being grounded. Especially when Bruce won't forget it. Or go away.

Ugh, he shouldn't have gone to the party. It wasn't even that cool.

Tim wakes up by a knock on his door. Wait- Wakes up? When did he fell asleep?

"Dinner's ready, Timberlina." Tim jumps at Jason's voice. Oh, Bruce did mention his siblings would come tonight. Tim didn't expect Jason would actually show up, though.

He sighs, he really isn't in the mood to hear Jason make fun of him for being grounded.

Tim opens the door, and can't even open his mouth before Jason takes his arm and drags him to the dining room.

"Wha- Hey! Jason, let go of me!" He exclaims.

I'm Jason's defence, he does let go of him. But they are already there and Tim falls on his face with the force of the movement.

He flips him off, Jason just grins.

Tim suddenly remembers his current situation and gets up as quickly as he can. Dick is in the corner of the room helping Alfred to set up the table. Alfred then retreats into the kitchen again.

Okay, no Bruce. That's amazing. He can still make it back to his room. He turns his back to them, facing the door and-

"Tim." 

Fuck.

Jason watches as Tim's face turns paper white when Bruce enters the room. He looks fucking terrified.

Steph had told him he's grounded because he snuck out home to go to a party, so it had made sense that he was hiding away from Bruce in his room.

But the pure fear  in his face as he turns to look at Bruce? 

That makes no sense.

"What are you doing?" Bruce's voice is completely emotionless, as usual. But Jason can see a hint of worry in his eyes. Jason is freaking out a bit, too.

The dining room becomes silent, all eyes on the interaction.

Tim shallows, then rushes to explain. "I'm so sorry B, I just- Jason doesn't know I'm grounded and dragged me here, I'll get right back to my room." His voice leaks anxiety, and Jason has to stop to think for a second because What. The. Fuck? 

Bruce's face turns into a more visible confusion. "What? Tim, why would you go back to your room? It's time for dinner." 

"Because I'm grounded?" Tim's voice is nervous and unsure, like if didn't know the answer to a question in class.

Really, What the hell is happening? Jason only came here for Alfred's cooking.

(He ignores the part of him that is extremely concerned for his baby brother.)

"Tim, grounded doesn't mean you can't ever leave your room. You know this, right?" Dick says, carefully picking his words.

"Well, yeah. I wouldn't be able to go to class otherwise." Tim answers.  

"But- Tim, not only for class. Have you not gone to the kitchen in all this time?" Dick asks, voice full of incredibility.

Tim shrugs.

"Then where have you been eating?" Jason chimes in, expression full of concern. Because honestly, what kind of answer is that?

Tim looks really confused now. Like, really. 

He shrugs again.

Dick's face morphs into horror. Jason feels his do the same. "Tim, have you not eaten since you got grounded?" Jason asks, voice full of barely repressed anger. To what? Good question. Life, he guesses.

Tim seems to mistake their expressions with anger directed at him, and bites his lip, looking at the door longingly.

He is shaking a little, his eyes are a bit wet.

He stays quiet.

Damian and Alfred enter the room through the kitchen, hearing the commotion. Jason can hear Steph and Duke coming as well. Cass just somehow appeared at some point.

Jason is starting to think that Janet's and Jack's parenting methods went a bit worse than fucking criminal neglect.

Okay, so this could have gone better. Tim thinks, as he feels anxiety fill his entire being.

"Wh- Tim why haven't you eaten?" Bruce asks, and he can't mask the bewilderment in his voice this time. That confuses Tim a bit, but he guesses he just can't believe he has to make Tim repeat the rules when he is that old. 

Hey, in his defence, it was all Jason's fault.

"Uh- I'm grounded." He answers, managing to hide the anxiety. Adults get mad at him if he shows it. Not that he has happened a lot of times, but his parents where always mad at him when they came home.

Jason's eyes glow a bit green. Tim doesn't understand why, but it spikes his anxiety nonetheless.

"Tim, what do you think being grounded means?" Bruce asks him.

Ugh, he hates when adults ask questions like that, just to remind him of the rules like he was fucking three.

"I can't be seen or heard by you, can't spend my money on things and can't waste food." He answers, robotically. It's a lesson he was made repeat hundreds of times. One or twice every time his parents got back home, and the remaining ninety percent by phone calls.

His family expressions are horrified. And a lot of voices speak at the same time.

"Tim, that's not-" "Who the fuck taught you that?" Dick's voice is cut by Jason's.

"My parents." He answers, anxiety returning full force. Was that not what they wanted him to say? That- Did they have more rules he wasn't aware of? Should he have helped making dinner? Or maybe setting the table-

"Oh my god." Dick exhales, looking sick.

Why does he look sick? Tim doesn't understand.

"But then- You weren't allowed to eat when you were grounded?" Steph chimes in, her eyes full of anger.

Oh no, Steph won't understand that he was just a very spoiled and ungrateful kid. He needs to do damage control, and fast.

"I mean, they never stayed more than a couple days at a time, and usually forgot that I was grounded to begin with. And when I got bad grade, they would take away my allowance, but I could still eat at school. It was fine really, I was to spoiled and they just wanted me to understand that I needed to be grateful for what I had." Maybe Bruce doesn't think he is ungrateful, and that's why he still can eat? That would make more sense. Maybe.

But when he looks at his family, he sees they don't look convinced. At all.

Okay, maybe his parents where a bit extreme, but it got the job done. Besides, they had to waste less money on food that way.

"Tim, I need you to listen to me." Bruce starts, grabbing Tim's shoulders.

Tim has never been more scared on his life, but nods. There isn't much else he can do, anyways.

"What your parents did was not only criminal neglect, but also plain abuse. Punishment does not mean harm, punishment is a way of showing kids their actions have consequences. Starving your son just because he made something wrong is sick, Tim. And I'm sorry I haven't explained to you what being grounded means here. But you need to understand that no matter what happens, no parent should ever cause pain to their child. Ever." 

That- Okay, that just doesn't apply to him. His parents didn't abuse him. Really, they are making this a way bigger deal than it is, Tim is just begging for attention.

But no matter how hard he tries, Tim can't find a hint of dishonesty in Bruce's voice.

He feels his shoulders slump in defeat, but that doesn't mean he gets it. He is still...conflicted. 

Okay, maybe he can understand his point. Logically. Actually believing it is harder. But he just- It doesn't make sense.

"But then- I-" He shallows, clenching and unclenching his hands. "I- I don't understand." He admits. His voice betraying him with some wetness.

"That's okay Tim, the only thing you need to know right now is that hurting you isn't-" Bruce's speech is cut by Tim's voice.

"No! That's not- That's not what I meant." He says, his breath picking up. He hugs himself, shaking more than before. A tear falls from his eye, he wipes it immediately. He steps out of Bruce's grip. He just- He doesn't fucking get it.

"Hey, hey- Baby bird, it's okay. Can you tell us what you meant, then?" Dick says, voice calm. It's not his Nightwing-scared kid voice, but it isn't too far from it.

More tears slip from his eyes, he tries to wipe them, his hands pushing back his hair and tugging it. "I- Fuck." He takes a couple more of deep breaths. His thoughts going way too fast for him to put into words.

"I just-" His voice breaks. "I didn't- Why-" A shaky sniff cuts the sentence, he looks for the right words. "Why do you care?" He finishes, and he is so full of confusion and anxiety that it's impossible to mask it anymore.

Bruce looks at him, bewildered. "What do you mean, chum?" He says, voice careful.

Tim shallows again. "I- It- Why did you get mad at me when I went to the party?" He asks, voice quiet and small. Please don't get angry Please don't get angry- 

"Son, I got mad because you sneaked out to that party without telling anyone where you were, and without asking me for permission. You have to understand, it’s not about the party itself—it’s about the fact that no one knew where you were, and if something happened and you got hurt, we wouldn't have noticed." Bruce answers, carefully picking his words.

But that- Tim doesn't understand-

"Exactly! That- That's the point! You wouldn't have noticed- It wouldn't have affected you." Tim tries to explain, tears falling freely from his eyes. Because nothing makes sense.

Bruces eyes soften. "Tim, you are my son. Looking after you is my job, chum. And I'm so sorry your parents never took care of you like they should have." He wipes the tears from his cheeks, and presses a kiss to his forehead.

And Tim still doesn’t believe him, at least not completely, but he trusts Bruce. And he knows, locally, that what they did wasn’t okay. It’s just- a lot to accept.

"This is cute and all, but I would like to get back to the part of Tim not eating since yesterday morning." Steph says, still looking a bit murderous.

Jason, with a matching expression, chimes in as well. “Yeah, I’m not going to let your parents’ starving you  slide that easily. God, Is that why you are so short?”

Tim finishes clearing his face with his sweater sleeve and turns to look at him, moving away from Bruce’s touch. “They didn’t starve me. I still got food at school, and like I said they weren’t home enough to be a problem. It was barely anything compared to what you went trough as a kid, Jason.”

Jason looks seriously at him, opening his mouth. Tim tunes him out. He doesn’t want to hear more people talking shit of his parents.

But Jason notices him drifting off, and he is having none of it. “Nuh uh, Timbo. Listen to me. I didn’t have enough to eat, but you weren’t allowed to. Your parents chose  that. You even said they called it wasting food! But Tim, you need to understand that what they did has no justification. Even if they weren’t home enough for it to become a problem, which I really doubt and is also another bad thing they did, the consequences that had on you are still important. Tim, you spend almost two days without eating because of it. It is a very big deal, and I need you to understand that.”

Tim blinks. Okay, that was a lot.

But- Tim wants  to believe him. He wants to be able to rely on them, to ask them for help when he needs it, he wants- He wants to learn how to be loved by his family.

He wants to trust them.

“Okay. I think- I think I understand.” Tim finally says.

Bruce looks at him again, thoughtfull. “Did you not tell anyone when you went to a party before?”

Tim shrugs. “There wasn’t anyone at home to tell. And they didn’t care where I was when visited, only at galas. The only thing that they punished me for was when I broke something, got a bad grade or didn’t keep the house clean."

Suddenly Tim feels Cass’ arms hug him from behind. “Me worry. Little brother scared.”

“Oh- Don’t worry Cass, I just though I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen.” Tim tells her. Cass just tightens his hold.

“And that reminds me. Tim, the other rules about not being seen or heard? Also abusive. We will talk about what punishment means later, but for now lets just have dinner and calm down. You need to eat.” Bruce says, already going to the table.

Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Tim is feeling a bit lightheaded.

Cass seems to catch that, and quickly guides him to a chair.

Alfred brings the food, and chatter quickly fills the room. Tim is silently grateful for it, too exhausted to keep being the center of his family's attention.

“Oh, and Tim?”  Bruce calls him. “Since you weren’t aware that what you did wasn’t allowed, you are no longer grounded. But don’t do it again.”

Relief fills Tim’s entire being. And with Duke telling him about the latest gossip in school and Damian being weirdly kind to him when he asks for the salt, he doesn’t think being grounded was that bad. At least compared to his parents.

Although this doesn’t seem the end of his journey. And maybe, he is a bit excited to discover what having adults that care about you feels like.

Chapter Text

Jason looks at the moon as smoke fills his lungs. It's quiet, there in the balcony. The night seems to taunt him with it's quiet, calming beauty that contrasts heavily with Jason's thoughts. The cigar he holds not doing much to calm him.

"Good views, right?" Comes Dick's voice, from somewhere behind him. He stops by his side and Jason can see him eyeing the hand holding his cigar. He doesn't comment on it, Jason is silently grateful.

They observe the night together.

"He still doesn't eat much, nowadays." Jason doesn't know what pushes him to talk. Maybe it's the silence of the stars, maybe the comforting presence of his older brother by his side, but he needs to- His baby brother thought he-

Ugh, fuck emotions and their stupid...things.

Jason feels Dick rest his  head on his shoulder. It's a warm presence against the cold night that grounds him.

"Yeah, I know." Dick says, eventually. 

"He is fucking tiny, Dick. Tiny like I was before the pit." Jason says, something weird twisting in his voice.  Tim wasn't allowed to eat when grounded.

He wasn't allowed.

"He has always been small, I always thought- " Dick's voice cracks. "Anyways, there is nothing we can do about that now. We just have to keep showing him how family is supposed to feel."

"We aren't the greatest example, you know." Jason retorts, bringing his cigar to his mouth again.

Dick laughs quietly. "Maybe you're right, but we sure as hell are stubborn, and Tim will need a lot of reminders to believe us."

"No shit. I'm definitely coming more often to make sure he eats enough, that brat." Jason tells him, the last part coming out more fond that he planned.

Dick hums in approval, and silence envelopes them again. It's not uncomfortable at all, but not entirely comfortable either. More like...understanding.

"It's just-" Jason says, after some minutes. "Just many times did they do it?" 

It's not a question he really wants an answer from, and Dick seems to understand this. 

"He'll be okay, Jason. We'll make sure of it."His brother says, instead. Jason doesn't object when he grabs him in a hug.

Tim wakes up with Cass' hands petting his hair, and distanly remembers her asking him to have a improvised sleepover last night. 

Once she realises he is awake, she presses a kiss into his hair. Tim wouldn't mind staying there five more minutes (his sister smells like safe), but she grabs his arm and drags him over to the kitchen.

Tim goes straight to the coffee pot when they arrive, but Cass sits him on a chair where Alfred has left him an enormous mountain of pancakes.

After some minutes, more of his siblings get downstairs as well, sitting with them at the table. 

"Jesus, Tim. You eat like a fucking bird." Jason says in-between bites of his own pancakes. 

Tim makes the very mature decision of blowing a raspberry at him, and continues slowly eating his breakfast.

When he is full, he gets up and goes to put his plates in the sink. Jason silently judges his two and a half remaining pancakes, but Tim ignores him.

"Tim, Are you okay with taking now?" Asks Bruce, once he has returned to the table to grab his phone.

Not that like sentience rises Tim's anxiety to the roof or something, even if he know Bruce just wants to tell him how healthy punishments are. He nods at Bruce, and Jason takes pity on him and gives him a reassuring smile. 

Bruce guides him to his study, and they both sit on a couch.

"Okay, first of all. Do you understand that what your parents did was no only wrong, but also a crime?" Bruce asks, his voice is a bit gentler than normal.

Well, back to the question. Did he? His head was more clear now that he has slept, but...

"Kind of." He finally settles in. "At least logically. Actually believing it will take me some time."

"That's completely normal, chum. I know it's a lot. Now, would you like me to set the rules or explain what a healthy punishment is first?" 

The answer is easy.

"Punishment." He wants to know the consequences first, as an strategic plan to calm his anxiety.

"Okay, first and foremost, no punishment should ever hurt you. In fact, none of us should ever cause you pain. No reasons valid. That's why we tap out in training. If you ever feel hurt at any time, you have to tell me or one of your brothers. That clear?"

Tim is too stunned to speak-this is such a bad time for memes, tim- and just nods.

"Now, when I ground any of you, I do it as a way of showing you the consequences of your actions. You went to the party without telling me, broke my trust in that area, and consequently were told to stay home. But now that I'm aware you didn't know it wasn't allowed, you are no longer grounded because it was a mistake. And you can't get grounded for mistakes, because you didn't mean to break the rules. I'm sorry for not making this clear before, and for rasing my voice at you when we were arguing. I should have asked you sooner all of this."

Tim honestly thinks he is dreaming. Not one, but two apologies? This just can't be real- And adult apologizing to him?

Bruce seems to catch his amazement, and he puts a hand on his shoulder. "That is just common sense, Tim. I really am sorry for not telling you all this sooner."

Tim thinks he will cry if he opens his mouth, so he just nods at Bruce to conserve what's left of his dignity.

"As for the rules, no drinking-" Tim can't keep himself from wincing at tha one, but Bruce doesn't notice. Well, he didn't like it that much anyways. He only drank with friends, and it tasted like shit. "- no smoking-'

Oh.

Tim carefully keeps his face neutral, but he is internally freaking the fuck out.

Because he doesn't like drinking, not really.

But-

Cigars smell like his mom.

Well Tim, trow that into the box and kick it far away in your mind. We are not going there. Just- Focus on the rest of the rules. That's important.

"- no doing things that are illegal in general, no hiding injuries, and not leaving home without letting someone know." 

Tim blinks at him. Okay, that could be worse.

"And if I just want to go to the store or something like that?" He asks.

"You can left a note or text someone. I would sleep better knowing where you are at all times, but I understand that you are way too independent and mature for it. So the only thing I ask you is to tell me beforehand if you are planing to do something that lasts more than half a day. But, if it's anything that might be dangerous you have to ask me first, okay?" 

His tone isn't harsh. It's firm, but gentle.

"Okay, I can do that." Tim says, still not fully processing it.

Bruce sends him a proud smile, and opens his arms.

The hug feels like a promise.

Tim marches yet again in front of Bruce's study's door. Always stoping half a second before actually knocking.

He's been on a case for a couple days now, and he has finally found a lead to follow. But it requires a couple of days to fully investigate it. And that's fine, Tim doesn't have classes untill Thursday! But, well, it could potentially be dangerous.

And one of Bruce's rules was to ask him before doing something dangerous.

But- What if he won't actually care, and Tim will just be wasting his time? He doesn't want to bother him, and Tim is the master of sneaking out and in of home (when he isn't drunk), so he could most likely do it and, like, not get busted. He has done it before.

And also, that way he doesn't annoy Bruce if this is actually something he didn't need to tell him.

But again, Bruce rules said to ask.

The corridor is cold, Tim can't quite feel his fingers has he should. Even as he wears his- well, Jason's hoodie.

"What are you doing pacing in front of father's study, Timothy?" Damian voice startles him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, I was just-" Wait. "Did you just call me Timothy?"

Damian scowls, but his cheeks turn a bit red. "I refuse to pronounce the surname of individuals whose actions were unforgivable."

Tim blinks, and his heart melts a bit. 

"But that's unimportant. What are you doing here?" 

Tim decides to leave it like that, that's Damian's show of affection of the month. "Well, I-" Should he even tell Damian this?

Fuck it, he's kinda desperate.

"I have this...thing I think I'm supposed to tell Bruce, but I don't want to bother him unnecessarily if it turns out it wasn't important." He explains, watching his brother's expression.

"You won’t know until you ask, and frankly, you don’t seem to mind troubling me with your presence." Damian answers, crossing his arms.

Tim snorts at that, but it actually manages to calm his anxiety a bit.

"Thanks, Dami." Tim says, half-preparing to get stabbed for the nickname.

Damian just scowls and leaves the corridor, which, progress!

Anyways, it's time to do responsible choices.

Tim knocks on the door, and Bruce tells him to enter.

He is sitting at his desk, computer displaying some WE files.

"What do you need, son?" Bruce has been throwing casually nicknames like that the last few days. Tim likes it, even if it feels weird.

Well, here he goes.

"I- Well, I'm not sure if I have to ask you or not about this, because I dont want to break the rules but I also dont want to bother you if it ends up not being important and-" Tim's diatribe gets cut by Bruce placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Breathe, Tim. You are not a bother, and I'm so proud of you for coming to me to ask me in the first place. What if you tell me what it is, and I tell you if you should come to me if something similar happens later?" He calmly responds.

Tim takes a deep breath, and explains him about his case and the lead he found. When he doesn't see Bruce's expression turn to anger, he feels his shoulder relax.

"Okay, thanks for telling me, Tim. You did good. This is exactly the kind of thing I want to be aware of. You can go follow your lead, but you have to update us every two hours and have all your emergency beacons nearby. We will be more prepared to go there if you need help now that you told me, so thank you, Tim."

Tim is smiling brightly by the end of Bruce's explanation. So not only he has Bruce's permission, but is he also proud of him?

Tim is starting to like these 'healthy parenting methods' a lot.

At the end, Tim doesn't need back up, and he solves the case in a two days.

Things continue normally for a while after that, not counting Jason appearing at random times and pushing sandwiches into his hands. 

And today, Tim is a bit exited about something not-bat-related for the first time in months.

Remember the photos for a photography contest his art teacher made him participate into? He won! And the price is being able to participate in a national photography contest, representing Gotham!

The contest consist of doing a collection of photos that represents your city, and Tim is practically vibrating in emotion as he grabs his camera before slipping off the window.

He hasn't told anyone he's leaving, but he plans on returning in a couple of hours, so he isn't breaking any rule. And he even left a note!

The night passes faster than he thought, snapping photos trying to capture Gotham's true beauty.

When he returns home, no one has noticed he had left to begin with, and he throws the note into the trash.

He spends the rest of the night editing them, and it's probably the best all-nighter he has pulled in all his life, even if he sleeps through history the next day.

In arts, his teaches asks him if his family will come to the contest, and Tim just...answers that they are busy by force of habit. 

Listen, after giving the same response for years, it tends to stick up a bit.

Besides, it's not even a lie. They all have better things to do than go to a photography contest.

And Tim is fine with that.

Really.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

"Red Robin."

Batman's voice is livid.

Being in his suit helps Tim. He can think of it as a case, a mission. Don't freak out to the sound of an angry authority figure.

He calmly throws his cigar off the roof, turning to meet Batman's icy glare.

Stop, Tim. Don't look at the emotions behind his eyes. Pretend it's okay a bit longer.

He thinks, detachedly, that this is not a very usual reaction. He should feel fear, or the very least, shame.

He thinks he felt it, for a second. But a welcomed wave of numbness overcame his body before he could do something stupid, like freaking out.

Don't worry, I'll check us out. His brain says.

It might be worrying, later. The fact that his first reaction to an angry adult is to prepare himself to hurt.

Batman's lips are moving, and Tim can feel himself beginning to shake, but his expression remains emotionless.

They are in the car, now. Tim can feel a bit more than before. Just the essence of it, though. Not enough to actually let himself register the depth of it. He rests his head against the window, the silence is tense.

The rest of the family is in the Batcave when they get there. Because of course that’s Tim’s luck. Thanks, universe.

“Tim, I remember specifically telling you that any short of illegal activity, such as smoking, was absolutely forbidden. “Bruce says, his voice matching his glare’s anger.

Tim looks down at a slightly wet spot on the floor of the Batcave, not daring to meet his eyes.

His brain decides to check out again. He thanks it, embracing the numbness that keeps multiple panic attacks at bay. His face remains completely neutral, with a small pinch of guilt to avoid suspicion. He’s been playing this game for a long time, Tim just has to wait until Bruce gets tired and sends him to his room, where he’ll calmly freak the fuck out.

Bruce’s mouth is still moving, he tunes him in.

“-and what about alcohol? Are you also chugging vodka behind my back?”

Tim shakes his head, not confident of managing not to sob if he opens his mouth.

No, bad brain. Check out again, please.

“And why exactly should I believe you? God- Tim, did you do it to be cool? That’s completely- “

“No I’m not.” Tim says, interrupting him before he can think any better. Great, Tim just had to fuck up even more.

“Then why in the world- “Bruce starts, but Tim’s fucking tired.

“I’m not a fucking kid, Bruce!” Tim snaps, a feeling too desperate and frustrated to hold it down. “I beat the shit out of muggers, killers and rapists every night. And you are mad at me for smoking once in a while? That’s the shittiest case of hypocrisy I’ve ever fucking heard.”  

“Tim, you aren’t legally allowed to- “

“I’m not going to get caught, Bruce. I only do it as Red Robin. No reporters will ever find Tim Drake smoking.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about and you know it.” Bruce replies.

“Tim, this isn’t like you at all. Could you please tell us why you did it?” Dick intervenes, his voice much calmer than Bruce’s.

His mouth opens automatically before he can stop himself. “The smell like my mom.” He mutters.

No. Nononono- Now he’s going to be even more mad at him for missing his mom when he had to go thought all that trouble to adopt him out of the kindness of his heart-

No! Not tears! Fucking water- get back in there!

“Fuck.” He says, attempting to clean his eyes. “Just- I’m just stupid. Forget I said anything. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” He says, moving out of the room.

“Hey- Timmy. Wait a second, okay?” Dick says, catching his arm.

Tim bites his lip, digging his nails in his palms.

“Tim, have you done this before?” Bruce asks, more calmed. Dick’s protective gaze has probably something to do with it.

“Only really bad days.” Tim answers, pulling back his hair. All his blessed numbness fading, he’s shaking again.

“And today was one of them.” Dick prompts, gently.

He shrugs. “It’s dumb.”

“I’m going to ban that expression. Spill it, Baby bird.” Dick insists.

Tim shallows. “Just- It doesn’t really- Ugh. A guy from school made fun of my eyes and, well, inherited them from my mom. And- her birthday is like, soon and…yeah.”

Dick’s eyes soften.

Bruce sighs, and opens his mouth.

Tim intervenes before he can talk. “I- It doesn’t matter, those are just excuses. I’m just a dumb teenager that shouldn’t- Ugh. Just send me to my room, I’m sorry.”

Bruce’s face looks guilty. “Tim, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.  What you did was wrong, so you are grounded. But I’m sorry you saw smoking as the only way to remember her-“

“No!” Tim exclaims. “I Don’t- I’m really grateful for what you’ve done for me, Bruce.”

Bruce eyes widen, horrified. “No- Tim, it’s completely all right to miss her, she was your mother. Me being in charge of you now doesn’t change that. We can talk more about all this later, okay? Once we have both camled down. I’m really sorry for shouting.”

Tim nods and goes to his room, too tired to talk any more.

Jason knocks his door a couple hours later.

“Hey, Baby bird. Dinner time.” He says.

Tim stomach disagrees, too used to hunger after lectures.

“I’m not hungry.” He says, not looking up the laptop where he is working.

Jason glares at him. Tim ignores him.

He leaves, and comes back with food. “Eat.” It’s all he says.

Tim rolls his eyes, but grabs his plate.

He looks at his food and can’t shake the feeling of discomfort. He is grounded.

“C’mon, Baby bird. At least half.” Jasons says, reading his thoughts.

“It’s- “Tim shallows.

He looks at it and can’t stop seeing his parent’s faces, shouting at him.

He turns away and hides his fae in Jason’s chest. His brother’s arms hold him immediately, petting his hair.

“You know, I started smoking when I was way younger than you, I…I can understand some of what you feel.” Jason says, eventually.

Tim just buries his face further into his brother’s hold. Jason squishes him tighter.

“For me, I- It smelled like my mom, too. At least at the beginning. After a while, It was just…familiar, I guess”

“But I understand, Tim. And you can always talk to me about stuff like this. Call me next time, and we’ll feel like shit together, okay?” Jason says, his hand not stopping cradling his hair.

“I love you.” Tim says, listening to his brother’s heartbeat.

“I love you too, Baby bird. Ugh- you’re making me go soft.” Jason says, but doesn’t loosen his hold in the slightest.

“Now, as much as I’m impressed for your reflection techniques, I’m not getting out of this room until you finish at least half your dinner.”

Tim glares at him, but eventually just sighs in acceptance.

His fingers shake as he grabs his fork, he can almost hear his parents yelling at him. In his room, grounded, while Bruce is mad at him, and he is home, and he will notice if he eats-

He sets the fork back down and takes a deep and calming breath.

Jason looks at him, his eyes greener than they should be. He has explained to him that it doesn’t mean he is angry at him, and that when stuff like this happens is Jason being mad at his parents.

“We’re going to the MacDonalds.” Jason declares.

Tim’s eyes widen. “But I’m- “

“Grounded? Don’t give a fuck. Let’s go, Timbo.” Jason retorts, already standing.

“But Bruce-“

Jason looks at him and ruffles his hair. “It’s my idea. If he gets mad, he gets mad at me. And he won’t once I explain that you wouldn’t fucking eat, Baby Bird.”

Tim calms a little, but not completely. Although the statement makes him feel a bit defensive.

“It just like…feels weird. Doing it when someone is mad at me.” Tim says.

Jason’s eyes glow a bit greener, and he grabs Tim in a unexpected hug. “Baby bird- call me next time you feel like that, okay? Or Dick.”

Tim nods in his brother’s chest.

Jason pulls away. “Now, lets fucking get some burgers.”

Things were tense, even a week and a half after.

A big-scale villain’s operation had required Red Robin, so he stopped being benched. And ever since Jason told Bruce about the food thing, he became way less strict with it. Being grounded now was pretty much just helping Alfred clean, and he already did that before.

After the mission, he just kept going out and Batman didn’t say anything, so he guesses that part of the punishment is over now.

The thing here is that there is a skate competition at school, and well, Dick told him to tell them about these things.

But that was before they caught him smoking, and nobody likes to go to stupid competitions of people they are mad at.

So Tim stays quiet, and tries to be as helpful and not annoying as possible in fear of angering Bruce further.

But as he rests his head on the cold surface of the toilet after puking his guts up, he thinks he might’ve miscalculated a bit.

Chapter Text

Yep, maybe he went too far with the whole "not bother anyone with my existence" thing.

Not that his foggy brain can do much better at the moment. A distant part of himself tells him he probably has a fever.

He slowly comes back to himself and takes stock of his body. This bathroom is classy and big. Not his apparment, then. Manor? He can kind of remember staying the weekend.

His blood drains from his face with the realisation.

He needs to clean this, so fast.

Bruce is already angry enough as he is. If he sees the mess Tim made in the-

Wait, where did he made a mess? Did he not make it to the toilet when he puked?

He lifts his head from the toilet and looks around the room.

The rug. 

He stained the rug.

A very fucking expensive looking rug.

Okay Tim, damage control.

He flushes the toilet and tries to stand up. The black spots of his vision disagree. He sits back down.

Is fucking cold here, man. Did the heating broke or something? He doesn't think so, Alfred would have told him. But again, he doesn't really remember much at the moment, so maybe he did.

Okay, focus. How can Tim remove a puke stain from a rug?

YouTube. YouTube will have the answer.

Okay, so where is his phone? Did he even bring it here? Tim squints his eyes and looks around the room.

Oh! There it is, on the floor next to the toilet. 

He turns it on and searches "how to remove puke from rug", lots of videos pop up.

But- this rug looks way too sensitive for the stuff people say to use.

He adds "sensitive expensive" to the search. Less videos pop up.

Fortunately, a french elderly woman says to have the perfect remedy.

"Si vous voulez nettoyer une tache sur un tapis délicat, vous aurez besoin d'un oignon. Frottez-le contre la tache sous un jet d'eau jusqu'à ce que la tache disparaisse." (If you want to clean a stain from a delicate rug, you will need an onion. Rub it against the stain under a stream of water until the stain disappears.)

Okay, where can he...? Kitchen? Kitchen. There are definitely onions in the kitchen, right?

He stands up slowly, supporting himself in the sink.

Once he thinks he won't pass out if he moves, he starts his way to the nearest kitchen.

He sends a quick glance at the clock on the wall when he gets there. 1:38. Honestly? Not bad in vigilante parameters. Tim wanted to go to bed before 2AM today, but well, things happen. 

Ugh, he really wanted to sleep early tonight. It might be the first time all week he managed to get to the manor before sunrise.

His head is too foggy to think too much about anything, though.

Wait. Why did he went to the kitchen? Water?

No. Onions. He needs onions.

Where should the onions be? Fridge? Pantry?

Tim is so cold. It's weird, because he is wearing a very warm hoodie that is pleasantly huge on him. It's most likely Dick's. Or maybe Jason's. Dick's clothes are brighter.

Uh. He has the onions now. Weird, he can't remember picking them up.

He looks at the clock. 2:03. Something inside Tim tells him that's not good, but he is way too tired to give a fuck. 

He is in the bathroom again.

Wait, why is he in the bathroom? 

The rug. Oh god the rug-

He needs to- He needs to clean it.

How can he clean it?

Onions. The french lady said onions.

He starts to drag the onion over the stain. 

Wait- No, water first. He should probably watch the video again. He hits play on his phone. (when the fuck did he get his phone-)

He isn't really there, like some unexplainable force is moving his limbs as he cleans the rug in the bathtub. 

Huh. Bathtub. Bat-hutub. Dick would like that pun. He is dumb like that.

Tim blinks, and his head is pressed against the bathtub border. 

He looks up. The stain is still dirty. His mind clears enough to accordingly freak the fuck out.

No. He needs to- It can't- Dad will be so mad-

"Tim?"

Tim flinches at the unexpected voice, fear claiming his entire being.

NO- No one- No one is supposed to see the mess he made.

"Timmy? Can you hear me?" 

Tim's vision is blurry. He can't recognise who is talking.

"I'm...cleaning it" Tim feels his mouth say, not completely sure if the words come out like they are supposed to.

There's a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs if off and continues to rub the rug with the onion. The hand moves to his forehead, and it feels blessedly cold against his uncomfortably warm head.

More footsteps, smaller ones this time.

"-wrong with Timothy, Richard?"

"-need you to call Bruce."

Time passes, Tim finds hard to tell how much exactly. At some point, he ends up in someone's lap.

"Chum?" Bruce's voice startles him out of his thoughts. Wait, Bruce? Bruce can't be here, he can't- He hasn't cleaned the rug yet-

"-definelty has a fever, I found him holding-"

"I'm cleaning it." Tim forces his throat to work. "I- I'll leave everything like it was."

Voices speak louder at that, but Tim doesn't pay them any attention as he reaches for the rug again.

"No- Baby bird, calm down, okay?" Dick says, grabbing his arms.

Wait- When did Dick get here? Oh, he was the lap he was in. That's nice.

But he still has to clean his mess. 

He reaches again for the rug, but the same arms don't let him. "I need to-" Tim starts, but looses his train of thought halfway through. What did he want to say?

"You need to rest, Timbo." Is that Jason's voice? It sounds like him. Oh! Tim remembers what he had to say! "Clean- Clean my mess. I have to." Tim can't read the expressions on their faces, the world too blurry.

"You don't need to do anything but go to bed and take some medicine." Someone says. But they don't understand, Tim stained the rug. He needs to fix it before his parents find out.

"No! I- I need to clean before they come!" His mother wouldn't be mad, just disappointed. But his father...he would be livid.

"Tim, nobody's mad at you. It was an accident, and you are sick." Tim just shakes his head because they don't fucking get It-

"It's- It's expensive." Tim mutters, fighting against the cotton filing his brain.

"And Bruce is a literal billionaire, Timberlina." That was definetly Jason. That's good, Jason will shout back at Bruce when he gets mad.

"Tim." Bruce's stern voice makes Tim flinch, movement that doesn't go unnoticed by anyone in the room. Are they going to get angrier-?

Someone else whispers something, but it isn't directed to him. Tim only catches "tone" and "scared."

"Tim." Bruce starts again, voice softer. "You need to rest. You are much more important than that rug. You're sick, and I'm going to take you to your bedroom and give you some medicine, alright?"

Tim's foggy brain doesn't completely register his words, but he is way too tired to fight against the strong arms that lift him off the floor.

He can't resist the urge to hide his fade in Bruce's chest, relaxing with the smell of his dad's cologne.

Chapter Text

Dick isn't an externally angry person.

Internally? hell yeah. he's a king of suppressing his anger for the sake of others comfort. 

But right now, in this exact moment, all he wants to do is show Bruce that he is livid.

He hasn't been around much, shit happening in Blüd, but he had trusted in Bruce's ability to be a fucking responsible and emotionally available father. 

But it seems that the second Dick isn't behind him telling him how to do this stuff he just- stops.

And Jay- Jay is just a kid too, and he had his own shit in crime alley. And he also doesn't have the best idea of parental discipline.

So when Jason told Dick that he had needed to convince Bruce of lessening Tim's punishment so he could fucking eat-

Dick wanted to punch someone. Well, no. he wanted to punch Bruce, specifically.

So after that asshole had the audacity to carry his baby brother—sick and hurting baby brother—to his room, Dick walks over him with an unnaturally still and completely relaxed demeanor, and projects as much ice as he can into his smile as he asks Bruce to talk about something.

The small hint of fear in his eyes does little to calm his anger, but it's pleasant to see he understands he's fucked up.

He would probably ask Cass to tag along as well for extra unnerveness if she wasn’t asleep right now, but this isn't her responsibility to lecture her father anyways. Neither is Jason's, no matter how much he is looking like he wants to rip Bruce a new one too. 

Dick guides Bruce to a sound-proffed small living room. He can see Bruce shallow as he recognises it. Good.

He closes the door, breathes in, breathes out, and loses it.

He demands him how could he dare to make Tim think he was angry when he is traumatized by adults being mad at him, how could he dare to be so incompetent that Jason, his still not legally allowed to drink son, had to tell him that his brother couldn't eat because he was terrified of being grounded, how could he-

"What else was I supposed to do? He smoked-" Bruce's response makes Dick's blood boil.

"There are plenty of other methods to show your kid he's done something bad. Like taking and tasks. Grounding is a method that can work in some kids, but not in ones that are traumatized by it." Dick doesn't shout. His voice is a cold, sharp, icy blade, but he stops himself from raising his voice. Just to show Bruce how possible it is to make a point without yelling.

He wants to see shame in Bruce's face.

His father doesn't talk. His obnoxious pride enabling him from admitting his astronomical fuck up.

"You have a week." Dick eventually says.

"What?" Bruce asks, bewildered.

"To show me you can fix this and be a good father to him and Dami." Dick states, unwavering.

"What-? Dick, What do you-?"

"If you don't-" He continuous, unbothered by his interruption. "-I'll take them both with me untill you get your shit together."

Dami would honestly be delighted, they have talked to a lot about things, and even if he does see Bruce as his father, they both know their relationship goes well past "brothers". He gave both him a father's Day and mother's Day gift. Dick loves him so much.

And Tim...honestly? he would be a bit relieved. And consequently anxious as fuck for the guilt of it. But well, Dick is, for one, the king of the family at emotional talks —mostly with the youngests, but he has chats with Jay about deep stuff occasionally— and for two, way more explicit in the ways he shows love.

But anyways, the threat it's mostly to scare Bruce out of his ass. Although Dick will absolutely take them a couple of weeks if he fails.

He already takes care of Dami in some weeks and most weekends, and Timmy and him have always been closer than Bruce and Tim.

So it is a very effective and possible threat.

Bruce's face is visibly striken.

Dick smiles sweetly at him and leaves. He has a little precious bean called Tim to take care of.

When Tim wakes up again, he feels like absolute and complete shit.

His throat is swollen, his head is killing him, and every single part of his body is screaming at him.

But, all in all, not that bad. Atleast not as bad as last night.

Wait.

Oh, fuck.

Tim made an absolute and complete fool of himself last night.

He groans loudly against his pillow, and then just exists there for some minutes. Processing.

Eventually, he stands up groggily and wraps his fluffiest blanket around himself, begining his trip to the kitchen.

When he gets there, Jason pulls him into a chair before he reaches the coffee maker.

"Sick people don't get coffee." His evil and terrible brother says, glaring at him.

Tim recognises a lost battle when he sees one, and slumps his head against the table with a sigh.

A hand ruffles his hair, and he lifts his head to the sight of the much-too-awake face of his oldest brother.

"Do you feel up to eating something, Baby bird?" He says, petting his hair gently. He frowns when his fingers meet Tim's forehead. "You are still a bit warm." He notes, slightly concerned.

Tim turns his expression to one thoughtful, but he already has his answer. Even if he didn't feel sick, the mere thought of ruining a thousands-dollars-worth rug was more than enough to take away his appetite.

"My stomach still feels weird, It'll probably come back up." Not technically a lie, just not the full truth either.

Jason sends him a disbelieving gaze, but Tim ignores him.

"That's okay Timmy, I'll tell Alfred so he makes you tea." Dick says, pressing a quick kiss into his hair and disappearing into the kitchen.

Tim does not pout, not at all.

Jason smirks shamelessly at him. "If you can't hold pancakes, you can't hold coffee, Timbuktu." Tim just slumps his face into the table again, groaning with renewed frustration.

While Jason continues to laugh at his misery, Damian arrives to the kitchen.

"Why is Timothy inhalling the table?" Damian asks, eyeing confusedly at Tim.

"Because he's an addict" Jason answers.

"They won't give me coffee." Tim clarifies.

Damian nods his head in approval. "Coffee is not a sufficiently nutritious aliment." His expression turns suspicious as he looks at Tim again. "And neither are tables."

Jason chuckles loudly at that, apologizing after Tim makes a pained sound at the noise.

God, his head is killing him, man.

"I saw you vomiting last night. Did you get food poisoning?" Damian asks, sitting beside Jason on the table.

"'m sick" Tim mumbles. "Just a cold."

Damian frowns. "You weren't this easily affected by sicknesses before. I can't recall you being sick at all when I first came here, bit now you've turn weaker."

And them, Tim's brain does something unforgivable. It loses its almost flawless filter that keeps safe the most dangerous secrets in the world because of and stupid fucking fever.

"It's probably the spleen thing." Tim says, completely oblivious to the silence that has fallen after his statement, fever-confused as he is.

He looks up at the room, realizing his the rest of his family has arrived to the kitchen too, sans Cass. Or maybe she is there too but hidden in the shadows or something, she is cool like that.

He, still oblivious to everything, thanks Alfred sleepily as the butler passes him the tea.

"Tim, Timmy, Timbo, Timberlina, Timothy Chalameit, What in the ever loving fuck did you mean with that." Jason asks, and Tim thinks his voice sounds weird.

"...with what?" Tim's brain is still processing, it seems.

"What. Do you mean. With. Spleen thing." He repeats.

And Tim's brain finally decides to catch up, the traitor.

All Tim's blood drains from his face at the realization, his freckles contrasting vividly against his skin.

Oh. Fuck.

Okay Tim, time for damage control. 

He wouldn't have minded telling them before, really, but well. He forgot. And now...now they'll (comprehensibly) get mad at him for not telling them earlier.

Okay, he only said 'spleen thing', so he can still lie his way out of this one.

"It's a meme." He says, forcing as much sleepiness in his tone as he can. Steph will probably call his bull, but is he plays right the "sick person" aspect them might just attribute it to him being delirious. Tim proceeds to mentally curse in all the different languages he is capable of speaking to relieve some tension.

"Lie." Cass suddenly says, appearing beside him. Fuck, he was totally counting on her being asleep.

"Stop. No lies. Truth." Cass says.

If Tim wasn't sick, he might've been able to lie to her. It's a fifty-fifty with her, half of the times she catches him, half of the times he succeeds. He tries not to lie to her direclty anyways, and hasn't ever lied specifically to her.

But Tim is sick, so he gives up.

"Fuck fevers." He says, running his hand though his hair

"Tim." Bruce adverts.

"Ugh-" Tim groans. "Can't- Ugh. Can't you just leave it?"

"No."

"Ughhhhhh-"

He meets his father's eyes wearyly.

"Don't freak out." He starts.

"Great fucking way to start, Tim-"

"Tim. Stop that. Just tell us what did you mean." Bruce says, interrupting Jason.

Tim contemplates the chances of throwing himself of a window without getting caught. Huh. He could also jump to the vents, he's fast enough. If he causes a distraction-

"Don't even thing about it, Tim." Steph says, noticing his gaze.

Tim shallows. "You'll get mad."

"What. Did you mean. By 'spleen thing'".

"That I might..." He shallows again. "...not have it anymore?"

"WHAT-" "TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE-" "Wait a damn second-" Multiple voices shout at once.

"Hey! It wasn't my fault. Ra's stole it. He is a creepy fucker." Tim says, trying to defend himself.

Silence falls again. A single 'what the actual fuck' is whispered, probably by Duke.

"Tim, when-" Jason starts.

"While Bruce was away." He answers, there's no way to soften up that one.

Some of them wince, and Dick face falls.

"Oh god- Tim I'm so sorry-" He says, voice wet.

What?

"What? No- Dick, It's all right. I'm not dead-" He sees Jason's eyes turn greenish and rushes to finish."-and I didn't went into the pit either-" 

"THAT WAS A CONCERN?" Dick exclaims.

Tim ignores his interruption."-not a big deal, really! I'm taking antibiotics and everything."

No one in his family seems reassured with his explanation. Tim sneezes.

Then, a lot of voices start speaking at the same time.

"Wait, what is you mean by creepy?" Steph ask, and all of them seem to want to hear Tim's response as well.

"He wants my babies. Or my body. Any kind of heir because he is low-key obsessed with my brain."

Bruce tenses, and all his family turn a bit green at that. "And he has your spleen." He says.

Tim shrugs. "It probably blew up."

His families expressions turn impossibly more astonished.

"Tim, what the fuck." Dick asks, only sounding tired at this point.

Tim just a smirks in his tea.

"Okay, we are not forgetting that-" Jason says, gesturing vaguely in Tim's direction. "-but there's more shit to unpack here. Tim, why didn't you tell us?"

"Would you believe me if I said I genially forgot to?"

"No."

"Fair enough."

Tim takes a deep breath to try to calm his building anxiety. "I just...there was a lot going on. And then, I just- you would've gotten mad I didn't tell you sooner anyways."

"So you just didn't say anything?" Duke asks.

Tim shrugs.

"Does Dr.Tomkings know?" Damian asks.

Tim shakes his head as he answers. "No, I haven't gotten injured enough to see her since then."

"Then we'll go later today." Bruce says. Which, fair.

"How the hell did you manage to hide this from Alfred?" Steph asks, somewhat admiring.

"I would like to know so as well, Master Tim." Alfred says.

Tim shrugs again. "Like I said, there was a lot going on."

"Tim. You can't just shut down on us every time we're a little stressed." Dick tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, is that why you didn't tell us you were sick yesterday?" Jason adds, his tone frustrated.

Tim's silence is answer enough.

"Tim." Bruce says, voice pained.

"I- you were already angry enough, I didn't want to upset you even more." He retorts, lamely.

"You asking for help won't ever make us angry, Tim." Dick says, and his voice comes out pained as well. Mostly protective.

"And Tim, If you are ever sick or tired or in any kind of pain and you break or stain something- You can't push yourself to clean it, we can and will do it for you. Your well being will always come first, no matter what." Bruce's voice is serious, firm and...really, really sad. He seems to feel intense regret for something. "Did you think I would get angry at you for that?"

He shallows. "No, I- Maybe. But it's not your fault. I just think stuff like that, you haven't done anything for me to think that." Tim rushes to explain.

"Okay, but I'm still sorry, Tim. No, let me talk" He says, watching Tim opening his mouth to protest. "I've been inexcusably irresponsible the past few weeks. Me being stressed or overwhelmed was not at all an excuse for how I've been treating you. I'm sorry, Tim. I really am. Do you think I can work to earn back your trust?"

Tim.exe has stopped working. Please wait for reboot.

"...what?" It's all he manages. Because- wow.

"I was upset by your actions, and the way I showed it was really wrong." Bruce says, like that's just how it is. Adults with power saying stuff like that.

"But- Its normal to ground me, I fucked up. It's my brain who's dumb." Tim says, voice small, struggling to understand and really confused.

Bruce's eyes water. "No, Tim. You have experienced things healthy children haven't, and therefore I shouldn't have ever punished you as I did, probably not even named it as that. Now on I will take measures that won't make you anxious or stress you out, okay?" 

But that- That doesn't-

"But- you already told me that your punishments weren't bad! I was the-" 

"Tim. Sweetheart, listen to me. Let's imagine that Dick's aracnophobic. Would it be okay for me to put spiders in his stuff when I get mad?" Bruce's voice his kind and gentle, and it makes Tim's eyes sting.

"No." He says, voice small.

"Then understand that I was the one who did bad, chum. And I'm really, really sorry."

Tim's eyes get wetter.

Bruce- Tim is honestly a bit mad at him. And Bruce is telling him that's absolutely understandable and fine, and that he is sorry and-

"Okay. I- I understand." 

And all his family smiles at him. 

"Then I believe it's time for breakfast." Alfred proclaims.

And you know what?

Tim ends up eating fucking pancakes.

Chapter Text

Tim is just about to open the door he feels a big hand falling in one pf his shoulders. He turns to see a visibly confused and a little concerned Bruce. Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

“Tim, you need to get checked out at the clinic, why are you leaving?”

“To go?” Tim answers. Is Bruce feeling all right?

Bruce expression turns to one of realization. “Oh- No, sweetheart. I’m sorry for not explaining this better. We both are going. Parents go with their children to these things, and even if you’re emancipated and completely capable of taking care of yourself, I’d still like to go with you.”

Is Tim’s time to be confused now. “But- I can go alone. I’ve always gone alone, its fine. There’s no need for you to go with me.”

“That’s another form of neglect, son.” Bruce says, his eyes turning a bit sad. “It’s my job as your parent to make sure you are okay and healthy, and the whole responsibility of that should never fall on your shoulders until you are older. And I’m aware you can and have done it before, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” Tim smiles at Bruce, and he ruffles his hair affectionally.

Leslie tells him to keep up the antibiotics and disinfecting his wounds carefully. She’s pleasantly surprised at how well he had been taking care of it on his own. She also tells them that, because he is sixteen, his immune system will pretty much fix itself when he reaches adulthood.

When they get home, Bruce goes to inform Alfred of everything she told them and Tim goes straight to his room.

He slumps in his bed, looking at the ceiling.

The skateboarding thing his school is organizing is next week.

And Bruce apologized to him. So, he’s not mad anymore. He would like to go, right?

Tim decides he felt emotions for today and grabs his computer. He manages to solve seven low-profile cases before passing out.

Best method against insomnia, if you ask him.

When he wakes up, he finds Cass and Steph passed out in his bed as well. Which, not a rare occurrence at all. They must’ve crashed there after patrol.

He gets up and goes to the kitchen. He feels a lot better than yesterday, with only a minor headache and a sore throat to bother him.

Duke is eating pre-patrol breakfast when he gets there.

“Morning, Duke.” Greets Tim. “Good morning, Tim!” Duke says back, much more energetically. “How are you holding up?”

“A lot better than yesterday.” Tim replies, sending him a soft smile as he goes straight to the coffee maker without any over-protective asshole big brothers to stop him.

Duke raises an eyebrow in silent judgment, but doesn’t verbalize his disapproval of his breakfast choices. Tim mentally adds that to the list of ‘Duke is the best brother ever’.

His unusual good morning mood comes to an end as he notices that there is a password to activate the coffee maker.

Really, Bruce? A fucking password?

Duke chuckles quietly at him, and promptly laughs way harder when Tim walks over to the table with his coffee and a rightfully offended expression.

“I have the pleasure to tell you that Bruce did in fact put effort into doing that.” Duke tells him, still struggling to catch his breath. Tim snorts into his coffee.

The thing here is that, even if Barbara is better than everyone -because she is genuinely a fucking goddess- at hacking, Tim is still more skilled than the rest of the family, and by a considerable amount.

So, yeah. Bruce should’ve called Oracle if he wanted to give Tim a real challenge.

Duke turns back to eating his breakfast and Tim scrolls in his phone while sipping his coffee.

“Tim.” Duke starts, eyes unsure. “Are you feeling better like, emotionally?”

Tim shrugs. “I don’t know. Yes, kind of. I’m still a bit confused but, getting there.”

Duke smiles at him, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Well, I’m here if you need anything. You sure have been every time I needed you.”

Something warm settles in his heart, and Tim smiles at him in a silent thanks before turning back to his phone.

Tim pockets his phone again and takes a long, relaxing sip of his coffee. It almost instantly vibrates with a new message.

Tim sighs with relief and opens the Gotham’s Public Transport app on his phone. He really didn’t want to stay in the manor this weekend, but he sold the apartment he bought on his Bruce quest after everything ended. And besides, he wants to spend time with Dick.

It’s not like- Bruce is great, really. But Tim just doesn’t know how he feels about the whole thing, and his big brother is great at helping him figure out these kinds of things.

He buys a ticket for the bus and chatters with Duke about their high school gossip until he leaves for patrol.

Tim gets out of the bus and messages Dick he’s arrived. The sun is setting and, to no one’s surprise, the sky is grey enough to advert a storm. The bus station is pretty crowded, but Tim expected that of a Sunday’s evening.

A couple minutes later, because his brother was already on his way when Tim’s bus got to the station, Tim sees Dick’s car park in front of him.

He wraps Tim in a comforting hug and they both sit in the car. Tim tells him about the latest case he’s solved, and Dick talks about the gossip in his apartment building. Apparently, his neighbour is reforming his apartment and the noises of it were really stressing Haley out, so the puppy is in Kory’s house for now. It also doubles up as an excuse for his brother to visit his girlfriend more often.

When they get to the apartment, Dick asks him what he wants to order for dinner and looks judgingly at him when he answers ‘whatever you want’ until Tim says ‘Bat-Burger?’ in a really unsure voice.

Dick ruffles his hair and tells him to get comfortable while he calls the restaurant.

Tim is munching his Robin nuggets, pressed to his brother’s side with Dick’s arm tugging him close, his bat-burger long since demolished. A Netflix film Tim doesn’t know the name of is playing in the background.

“Dick?” Tim asks, hesitantly.

“Yes, Baby bird?” His brother prompts, all kindness and affection in his voice. Tim presses closer to him.

“I-“ He wets his lips before continuing. “What if- What if I don’t, like, know how to. Uhm. Abord the Bruce situation?”

Dick’s face smiles fondly at him. “That’s completely normal, Tim. How did the situation make you feel before he apologized?” He questions.

Tim scrunches his nose. “I don’t know.”

His brother doesn’t seem annoyed at all about his response. “Okay, try to compare it with a hypothetical situation, where you’d feel similarly.”

“When we go to…Infiltrating missions where we disguise as someone and like- the feeling of being in, like, dangerous territory?” Tim adventures to say.

Dick nods, his thumb drawing calming patterns in his back. “It made you feel anxious and scared that any bad move would end up badly?”

Tim nods.

“So, you felt like you had to act perfectly or he’d get mad, which made you feel unwanted and unsafe.” His brother says softly.

Tim nods more eagerly this time, and his face turns slightly guilty.

“Hey- No. Tim, that’s something absolutely right and understandable to feel. Even if he didn’t mean to, he did something he knew you had issues with that hurt you.” Dick rushes to reassure him.

Tim isn’t that convinced. “He didn’t actually know.”

“He knew enough.” Retorts Dick, but his voice doesn’t get harsh in the slightest. “And he should’ve noticed how much it was affecting you. He has no excuse, Tim.”

Tim nods again, a bit more convinced.

His brother smiles and presses a kiss into his hair. “And how do you feel now that he’s said sorry?”

“I don’t know.” Tim answers again, because that’s kind of his whole problem right now.

“Tim, it’s alright if you are still upset about it. Hell, I’m upset. Or maybe you are relieved, or anxious, or confused or still a bit in shock. There isn’t anything you 'should' be feeling. Not now, and not ever. The only important thing is to process it and express it in a good way.”

Tim shallows, but his brother’s words do calm him a bit.

“I don’t know. “ He says, frustratedly. Because he really, really doesn’t. Dick gives him a reassuring squeeze.

“Try to compare it to something again.”

Tim closes his eyes for a moment, looking for the right words. “Like- Let’s say I infiltrated a restaurant before, and now we go there again but in civies.”

“Do you feel like Bruce could get mad at you again, like you’d be scared the workers could recognise you?” Dick asks.

“Yeah! And like- I’m supposed to be happy but I can only thing about that.” Tim finalises, relieved to have managed to put it into words.

“You’re not supposed to feel anything-“ His brother repeats. “-but I understand. Following the comparison, do you feel upset at Bruce for ‘making you go to the restaurant’ again when he knows you could be scared someone would recognise you?”

Tim lowers his gaze to his food. “Maybe.”

“Tim, that’s completely okay. He hurt you and it’s a good thing you are still upset for that, because he shouldn't have done it.” Dick promises.

“Because-“ Tim looks back at his brother’s eyes. “He should’ve seen I was anxious about it and he could’ve chosen any other restaurant.” Continuing the comparison helps a lot, because it’s true. Bruce could’ve taught him a lesson in a million other ways than the one he chose to use.

Dick presses a kiss to his forehead this time. “That’s a very fair way to feel, sweetheart.”

“And what should I do?” Tim asks, relieved but still a bit frustrated.

“Whatever makes you feel better. Bruce asks you if you want to go for ice cream? You stop, ask yourself if it’ll make you feel relieved or anxious, and tell him no if you don’t want to.”

“But- What if he gets sad?”

“He’ll feel guilty, but that’s his own fault. He’s asking for your forgiveness, and you are the only one who decides who, when and if you give it.” Dick explains.

“Okay. Can I call you if he asks me something? I think I’ll lose my resolve to say no otherwise.” He admits a bit sheepishly.

“Always, Tim.” His brother answers.

“I love you.” Tim blurts out.

“Aww- I love you more, Baby bird! Now, finish your Robin nuggets.”

And Tim does, the knot in his stomach completely untied.

About an hour later, Tim still pressed comfortably against his brother’s side, a noise in the window wakes him up from his dozing off.

Tim looks up just in time to see Jason inviting himself to enter.

“Little wing!” His oldest brother greets. “What takes you to Blüd?”

“Your leftovers.” Jason answers shamelessly, going straight to the kitchen. “Do you still have the- Oh! Hello Timmers, didn’t see you there.” He says, dropping in the armchair near the couch with a tupper full of Alfred’s cooking.

“Hey, Jason.” Tim greets, amused.

He drifts off again with the sounds of his siblings calm conversation, TV having been turned off at some point.

“-immy?”

Tim opens his eyes, and sees that both of his brothers are looking at him. He hums questionably, still waking up.

“You said something about Ra’s yesterday that was concerning.” Dick states carefully. Sleepiness all but forgotten, Tim feels his anxiety spike like a fucking-

No, Tim. You are safe, they are your family. Breathe.

He lowers his gaze to the blanket wrapped around him and fidgets with a loose threat before looking up again and shrugging. “He’s creepy.”

“You said he wanted a heir from you. Tim, did he-“ Jason starts.

“No.” Tim denies instantly, a tad too defensive.

“We don’t want to push, but we need to know if someone’s hurt you, Baby bird.” Dick’s voice is really, really sad. And Tim can hear some fear in it.

The younger boy takes a deep breath. “He sent his sister to try-“ He shallows. “To try to take it. Cass arrived before she could do anything.” He buries himself in Dick’s hold.

“And Ra’s…He’s creepy. I don’t- He says weird stuff and got a bit handsy when I was at the league, after losing my spleen. He gave me weird clothes and shit. Just gives me the creeps.” Tim explains.

He gather’s enough courage to look up to them. Jason’s eyes are acid, and Tim has to make a conscious effort to not freak out and remind himself his anger isn’t directed at him.

Dick buries his face in Tim’s hair. “I will cut his dick off.” He says with conviction.

Jason breathes in and out, his eyes stoop glowing as much, but still are a bit greener than usual. “Say the word, Baby bird, and he’s dead.”

Dick doesn’t refute it.

“I don’t know. Like, I got myself into that shithole. He helped me find Bruce, and I helped him with the council of spiders. I could handle comments and weird stuff if that meant getting Bruce back.” Tim reasons.

“No- Tim, no. Needing help does not mean at all it is okay for a million-years-old monster to fucking harass a teenager.” Dick says, horrified.

“But like- I accepted to go there.” Tim retorts.

“Tim, you accepting his help out of despair is not a justification for his actions. Ra’s a fucking perv, and that has nothing to do with anything you did or didn’t do.” Dick continues.

Jason talks next. “When a kid on the streets does a favour to someone in exchange for food or money, it’s a monster taking advantage of a starving kid. You know that. Now, tell me a difference between that and what Ra’s did.”

“I was, for one, not a kid, and for two, not starving. I made the conscious decision to accept his help to get what I wanted, knowing what an asshole he is. And, I repeat, nothing happened.” Tim retorts.

Dick takes a deep breath. “Harassment is as much of an offense as any other, and you know that.”

Tim sighs, but does concede that point.

“And-“ Dick shallows, his voice is shaking. “What I’m about to tell you- it’s not to try to make this about myself. I just- I need you to understand it wasn’t your fault, Tim.”

Jason and Tim become completely silent.

Dick shallows again, and hesitantly pulls back from Tim. The younger boy instantly moves to the other end of the sofa, dread filling his stomach.

“A few years ago, I met another vigilante in Blüdhaven.” Dick starts closing his eyes. “At the time, a villain was targeting me personally for some things. He blew up my apartment, the circus and- he threatened to kill anyone that I could possibly have any short of relationship with.”

“So, I partnered up with her. The vigilante. She was just starting in the job, so you could say she helped me in exchange of me teaching her. So, to this point, our situations match on the important bits, right?”

His brother opens his eyes again, and Tim nods.

“She- She killed the villain. We were in a building, and I moved out of the way so she could shoot him. I- I was in shock. So, I ran to the rooftop and she-“ He takes another deep, grounding breath

.

“She sexually assaulted me.” He finally says. “Following your logic, it was in exchange of she helping me. I used what she offered me to get something I wanted, I was not a kid, I was not starving, and I made the conscious decision to accept her help.”

His brother grabs Tim’s hands. “So, tell me, Tim.”

“Do you think it wasn’t wrong?”

Tim shakes his head fervently. “No. No I don’t. I’m so sorry. Oh God.” Tears stream from both their faces, and Dick pulls him into a hug. “I understand, thank you, but- I’m so sorry, Dick.”

He hears Jason stand up. “Wing.”

Dick looks up.

“I’ll make you the same offer. Tell me her fucking name and she’s dead.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything else about it.

After a while, Dick speaks again. “Oh, and one last thing.” He starts, voice still wet. “You are not allowed to go on any mission related to him without backup. Not even if is just about his assassins.”

Tim sighs, but understands the reasoning. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

They all end up passing out in the living room, and Jason makes them waffles for breakfast the next morning.

It all feels…really good, actually.

Like home.