Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all started when Tim was the ripe age of nine years old, when his parents came home from an expedition in Brazil.

He still remembers how his parents had come through the threshold of Drake manor arguing about a tome they had uncovered at the archaeological site. Apparently they had smuggled it from the dig, as they had with many of their artifacts, and had attempted to sell it to some black market traders. Unfortunately for them, no one seemed to want the ancient book, for whatever reason, and every appraiser in their contacts said it was worthless.

So now they were stuck with a worthless book that they couldn’t even read.

Of course, Tim saw this as an opportunity.

After all, it was boring being left alone in the large mansion while his parents were off traveling the world. While he knew that what they did was important, and he would never want to hold them back, he also wished to take part in their lives in some way. So maybe if he could decipher the book, he would be able to show how useful he can be and make his parents proud.

His parents had never given him any of their artifacts from previous expeditions, saying that they were too expensive, but this was different. If the book wasn’t worth anything, then surely they wouldn’t care if Tim asked for it. Besides Tim’s birthday was in a few days, and he doubts that his parents remembered to get him anything, so he could frame this as his birthday present.

It was perfect.

Tim will be able to prove himself, and his parents won’t have to waste money on buying him a present. And so Tim waited restlessly until his parents were about to leave on their next trip, a week before his birthday, and finally asked about the book. His parents were hesitant, as expected, but surprisingly Jack let out a chuckle and ruffled Tim’s hair.

“Look at our Timmy, already looking to follow in his parent’s footsteps. What do you think Janet?” His dad asked, looking over to his mother expectantly.

“It’s not like the book is worth anything anyways, hopefully it’ll at least keep him busy for a bit.” Janet responded picking at her nails absent mindedly.

“Well you heard her, the book is all yours. I’ll get it out of my study for you before we leave.” Jack said, patting Tim on the shoulder as he walked past the boy towards his study.

“Just don’t take too long, we have a flight to catch.” His mom called after him, causing Jack to raise his hand in acknowledgement.

His father returned to the foyer, a leather bound, encyclopedia sized book in hand.

“Well Timmy, here’s your present. Who knows, maybe you’ll even be able to translate it before we get back from Argentina.” His dad said jokingly, giving him a smile.

“Come on Jack, we don’t have all day.” his mother chided, already holding open the door to the manor.

“I’m coming! Love you Timmy, we’ll see you in three months okay? Be good.” Jack called to Tim, rushing to grab the rest of their luggage and joining Janet outside before Tim could respond.

“Love you too.” He whispered to the empty house.

—------------------

It took Tim 5 months to finally decipher the language that the book was written in.

He started by comparing it to Portuguese, the main language spoken in Brazil, and found a few similarities. He then did some research on the runes that the book came from to see if he could get a general time period of when it would have been written. Once he figured that out, he was then able to compare the writings to the indigenous languages used at the time.

He found that the writing seemed to originate from the Tupian family of languages. In particular, it was most similar to Old Tupi, but with some noticeable differences. As Tim struggled with the language, he finally realized that it was written in code based on the Old Tupi language. At that point, all he needed to do was find out the key in order to decipher the book. Thankfully his parents had called to tell him that they extended their trip for another three months, giving Tim the time he needed to translate the tome before they returned.

He was about a fourth of the way through the book when he confirmed his suspicions of the book being of occult origin. Tim had already guessed that was the case from the diagrams and visuals present in the book, but the writing confirmed it. It turns out the tome was used as a grimoire to communicate with the dead, and even summon demons.

Now, to say that Tim was skeptical of the book’s contents would be an understatement. However, he was also lonely and exceptionally curious if any of the rituals actually worked. Maybe he shouldn’t have started out by summoning a demon, but Tim honestly hadn’t expected it to work.

So when a bona fide demon from Hell came from the sigil that Tim had made with his own blood, he was surprised to say the least.

“What? Hey kid, are you the one who summoned me?” The imp like creature asked in perfect English.

Meanwhile, Tim could only gape at the creature in response. He hadn’t actually expected the ritual to work. Moreover, this just threw his entire belief system for a loop, because this basically confirmed that Hell was real. And if Hell was real then didn’t that have to mean that Heaven also existed? The magnitude of this revelation alone gave him a headache.

“Hey, Hey, snap out of kid. I can’t leave until we make a deal and then you dismiss me, so you better hurry up and get over your surprise.” The demon demanded snapping its hand in front of Tim’s face.

“A deal?” He questioned after taking a few minutes to process.

“Yeah, a deal. You give me your soul, and I’ll give you whatever you want. Money, riches, fame, you name it.” The demon listed off in a bored tone, obviously expecting Tim to be an easy target considering his age.

But Tim knew that there were always rules to these kinds of rituals. Thankfully he did have the sense to read all of the book before attempting anything, so he knew that the demon wasn’t telling the whole truth about him needing to make a deal.

“What about a game?” He inquired in the most childlike way he could think of.

“A game? Are you even old enough to play anything?” The demon questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Tim nodded, walking over a shelf in his room and producing a standard 52 card deck of playing cards. Tim has known how to play cards since he learned to walk. It was one of the only activities that Jack would do with him, especially once he learned that Tim knew how to count cards. But counting cards is really only effective in games like Black Jack where the cards are only shuffled once.

Or at least it would be if you were only able to follow the cards for one shuffle, but Tim has always been exceptionally observant. And if he’s the one shuffling, he can ensure that he gets the hand that he wants. Furthermore, many card games are more about the players than the cards themselves. In poker, for example, you can win with a bad hand if you manage to bluff well enough.

“Do you know Heads-Up Poker?” Tim asked, taking a seat on the floor and carefully removing the cards from the packaging.

“I know any game you could possibly think of, boy. Now what do you want to bet?” The demon replied with a sly grin, lowering itself down to sit across from him.

“Umm…” Tim trails off uncertainly, visibly biting his bottom lip in contemplation. “How about my soul, for 5 more years of life?”

“Deal.” It responds, its grin growing larger as it reaches a hand out for Tim to shake.

He takes the hand and lets out a hiss of pain as a dark brand burns into his palm where the demon grasped it.

“Don’t worry, it’s just proof of the deal. It will fade once the contract is fulfilled.” The demon replies showing the same mark on his own palm.

Tim simply nods as he begins to cut the deck.

“Oh, you don’t mind if I shuffle, do you?” He asks, feigning nervousness.

“Knock yourself out.” It responds nonchalantly.

Tim nods again, pretending to struggle with the cards as the demon eyes him greedily. Once he’s satisfied, Tim deals the cards giving both himself and the demon two cards placed face down in front of them.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” The demon asked pointedly.

Tim blanked for a few seconds in response, before realizing that he forgot one of the most important parts of poker. He was so busy focusing on shuffling the cards and tricking the demon into thinking him easy prey, that he forgot all about the chips.

“Oh. I uh. I think my dad has some chips we can use in his study.” Tim stammered in genuine panic at his mistake. But the demon simply snapped his fingers providing both Tim and himself with the same number of chips.

“Let’s just get this game started, yeah?” It challenged, picking up its hand is a smooth flourish.

Tim took his own hand, before making the small blind since he was dealing. The demon followed up with the big blind, before Tim revealed the first three community cards. An eight of clubs, a five of hearts, and a jack of hearts are displayed in front of the two players.

Immediately after the flop, the demon raises, pushing a generous amount of chips into the pot. Tim makes a show of furrowing his eyebrows in concern as he hesitantly calls. And so the game continues with the demon raising the bet, and Tim calling until the final two cards are finally revealed.

Before the players are the eight of clubs, a five of hearts, and jack of hearts from earlier, with an added seven of spades and two of hearts. The demon smiles as the final card as he throws his cards down in front of him in celebration.

Pocket jacks, making his hand a three of a kind.

“Alright kid this was fun, but I think it’s time we put an end to this charade.” It gloated, making a show of standing up and cracking its back.

“Yes, I agree.” Tim replied with a smile of his own as he lays down his own cards, an eight and a queen of hearts, making his own hand a flush.

The demon just stared incredulously at the cards, seemingly lost for words at its loss. Then, it suddenly made a move to lunge towards him. But, before the demon could reach him, a bright light shone from the symbol on both their hands and it disappeared just as its claws brushed against Tim’s cheek.

Tim couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief now that the game was over and began to collect his cards. The trick to stacking the deck was to make sure the other player got such a good hand that they thought they would win, but not a hand that was almost impossible to beat. The more probable the odds, the less likely they are to catch any slight of hand on Tim’s end.

Surprisingly enough, he found that the chips that the demon had conjured were left behind.

—------

As the years passed Tim had taken to summoning specters for company, and demons if he wanted to face a challenge. He never did tell his parents about the contents of the book, too worried that they’d take away the only company he was able to have.

However, with each year that passed, he couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t seem to be growing like other kids his age. He only lost a couple of his baby teeth, and he didn’t experience any growing pains that seemed to be common at his age.

It wasn’t until he was twelve that Tim realized he wasn’t just a late bloomer, no, he had stopped aging. Or at the very least, his aging process had slowed down from the amount of years he had gained from playing with the demons.

After all, Tim never lost a game and immortality had seemed like a good idea at the time.

It was at this time that Tim started lying. His parents were barely around, so telling them that he was a few years younger than he should have been was simple enough. Hacking into his public records was a bit harder, but not impossible. It was a good thing that his parents had already switched him to online school, otherwise he would have had to find some way to fake those records as well.

And so Tim started to ask for different things in each wager, money, tech, even magic, anything other than years of life. He could have just stopped making deals, but that would mean losing his one source of true entertainment. While he would still be able to talk to the ghosts, they couldn’t interact with the physical world. Besides, Tim found he enjoyed playing more when there was something at stake.

The problem was that Tim didn’t know how many years he had racked up before changing his bets. He would ask for different amounts each time he played, sometimes pushing his luck and asking for up to an extra hundred years for his soul.

As time kept moving it became harder and harder for Tim to keep his secret. By now he was sure that his parents had noticed something was off. They kept staying abroad for longer periods of time, and only coming home for a couple days at most. But that was fine, at this point he was used to them being gone.

In fact their absence made his second hobby of Bat watching much easier. Especially because Tim was able to use some of his newly learned magic to keep himself hidden from them even better than before.

It wasn’t until an odd man in a trench coat showed up at his door that everything came screeching to a halt around him.

Tim was startled when he heard the knock at the door. He had been sitting in the kitchen in the middle of a game with an arch demon when he heard the unfamiliar rasp of knuckles on wood. Considering the fact that his parents never knocked when they entered, and he certainly wasn’t expecting any company, Tim elected to ignore it. If it was a thief or someone trying to break in then the sigils he carved into the wood should be enough to scare them away.

He laid down the last community card, and watched as the demon's face turned smug. Tim couldn’t wait to wipe that look off his face. Just as he was revealing his cards, he heard the doors to his house swing open, and suddenly there was a disgruntled looking man in a trench coat standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Tim was so shocked by the turn of events that he wasn’t even able to savor his victory before the demon vanished before him.

“So…” The man drawled, taking a step into the kitchen, “You’re the twerp that’s been making deals with demons.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tim bluffed, expertly gathering up the cards and chips still left on the table.

“Right, because I didn’t just see you playing poker with an arch demon.” The man deadpanned, taking out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

“Demon? I don’t think those are real mister? Are you okay?” Tim asked, playing dumb as he finished shoving his poker material into his bag.

“Alright kid, let’s cut the crap huh?” The older man stated, putting his hand on the table where the rune Tim had made to summon the demon was still visible.

Tim couldn’t hide his wince at that, “It’s an art project?” He tried.

The man just raised an eyebrow in response and took a drag of his cigarette.

“You see, the reason that I’m here is because word has been going around Hell that someone has been making bets with demons and they never seem to lose. Now there are demons who are actually trying to come here in order to challenge this person. So, naturally, the next time I sensed a portal being opened to Hell, I tracked down the origin. What I wasn’t expecting is that this expert gambler isn’t even old enough to go to secondary school, let alone a casino.” He monologued, staring Tim in the eyes.

“Technically I’m thirteen, so I would be old enough to go to secondary school.” Tim replied with a shrug.

The man hummed as he looked Tim over. “Interesting, your physical body seems to be aging two years behind your actual age. Despite the fact that you’ve undoubtedly been alive for thirteen years, you only appear to be eleven.”

“Eleven?!” Tim exclaimed in surprise. “If I aged then why haven’t I gotten taller? I thought for sure I was still around ten.”

The man just took another drag of his cigarette in response. “Sorry kid, guess you just have bad genetics.”

Tim let out an indignant huff. “Okay, you caught me. Now what?”

The man then stepped back to lean against the kitchen counter, ashing his cigarette in the sink. “As much as I would love to just tell you to stop summoning demons and not have to deal with this, it appears that you have accumulated quite a bit of infernal essence. Which, if left alone, could cause way more trouble down the line than it’s worth. And while I would usually just seal up your magic and call it a day, I have a feeling that you would find some way to get around whatever I do eventually. So, against my better judgement, I am going to teach you how to properly regulate your magic and not cause a world ending disaster. Alright?”

Tim just sat there, blinking, as he registered what the man had said.

“You’re going to teach me how to control my magic?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Yes. Now, keep up before I change my mind.” The man stated, waving his cigarette in the air dismissively.

Tim learns that the man’s name is John Constantine, and that he’s kind of a member of the Justice League.

He also learns that the man is a drunk prick.

But a very knowledgeable drunk prick.

With his instruction, Tim is able to use his magic more effectively and even hide his infernal aura from others. Oddly enough, Constantine never stops Tim from summoning demons and making deals with them. In fact, he actually starts to take Tim with him on some of his missions, and has Tim use his gambling skills to make the demons go back to Hell. His partnership with Constantine continues even after Tim becomes Robin, and he’s made to practice his magic less often lest Bruce catches him.

But Tim never gets caught.

In Bruce’s grief he doesn’t seem to notice that Tim is in fact not going on digs with his parents, but instead taking care of some supernatural disaster. The man also doesn’t notice Tim’s apparent lack of aging.

Then Jason comes back, and Bruce’s attention is pulled away from him again. Even after his parents die and Tim starts living in the manor, Bruce never questions when he says that he’s spending time at a “friend’s house.”

While Dick and Steph will tease him about his height, about how he still seems to look thirteen despite being fifteen, they never actually question anything. And when Damian arrives and, him and Steph grow apart it gets easy enough to start lying about his age again.

It gets even easier when Bruce and most of his friends "die."

So now Tim is seventeen.

He’s been seventeen for a couple years now.

He’s actually turning twenty three today, not that anyone knows.

According to Constantine his aging will start to slow down even more once his physical body reaches its twenties. It doesn’t help that he’s gained even more years during his missions with the older man. Apparently some demons also like the rush of wagering everything, so they’ll only bet their whole lifeforce in return for Tim’s soul.

It’s annoying to say the least.

Speaking of annoying, did he mention that Ra’s knows?

Yeah. Despite the fact that his family of detectives is clueless about Tim’s aging affliction, somehow that old bag of bones figured it out. And it has certainly not helped the man’s obsession with him. Apparently he wants Tim to rule by his side for all of eternity, or something. He just really hopes the man means as an heir and not something else.

The League is pretty old fashioned so Ra’s probably means as an heir.

Right?

Right???

You know what?

It doesn’t matter, because Tim is not planning to join him anyways.

He takes in a cold breath of air, as he sits on the rooftop of Wayne Enterprises in his Red Robin gear. He moved out of the manor a couple years ago when he brought Bruce back from the timestream at “sixteen,” but has continued to go out as a vigilante. Although, he’s not a part of the Titans anymore and mostly sticks to patrolling Gotham now. After all, it would be harder to keep his secret if he was part of a team again. Besides, Tim is busy enough with Gotham and his supernatural side gig.

Outside of Gotham, he’s known as Rook, supernatural detective and John Constantine’s apprentice. The best part of being Rook is that he doesn’t have to hide anything around Constantine. The man couldn’t care less what he does as long as it doesn’t end the world. He’s also able to bring out his infernal essence, letting him appear as his true age rather than looking three to four years younger. Tim would do this normally, if only the demonic aura wasn’t so blatantly obvious.

Just as he’s about to stand up and continue with his patrol when he hears the distinctive sound of a portal opening behind him and lets out an involuntary sigh.

“I told you not to teleport to Gotham. Do you know how anal Batman gets about unauthorized use of magic in his city?” Tim grumbles, turning to face the man behind him.

Constantine just raises his canteen to his lips, taking a long drink of whatever alcohol he has today, before meeting Tim’s gaze.

“And normally I don’t, because you know who ends up getting their ass chewed out by the Bat when his devices detect magic? Not you, that’s for sure. Now come on, some twat opened up a portal to Hell the size of New York city in Kazakhstan and I need some help to close it before the world ends.” The man relays, already preparing a spell to teleport them to whatever hellscape they have to clean up this time.

“So business as usual?” Tim replies, snapping his fingers and changing into his form as Rook in a burst of infernal magic.

“Business as usual.” Constantine replies, taking another swig of his drink.

“Oh, and happy birthday kid.” The man adds, holding out his canteen for Tim.

“Thanks.” Tim responds with a small smile, taking the liquor and savoring the burn of the alcohol before they both disappear in a small flash of light.

Chapter Text

-one month later-

Tim was not having a good day.

He had been with Constantine fighting some interdimensional shoggoth-like creature when he got an alert for an all hands on deck Arkham break out. So now he has to teleport back to the Nest covered in rancid eldritch horror slime, and suit up for his second secret vigilante job as Red Robin.

Why can't he ever catch a break?

He's just glad that his infernal side lets him sleep less than a normal person (the perks of making deals with demons and not asking enough questions beforehand). Tim just sighs as he snaps his fingers to open a portal back to his base.

"Alright, well I'll be off. There's an Arkham break out, so I trust you to handle the clean up." Rook calls to Constantine with a wave of farewell.

"You better not leave me with this shit you fucker. Rook! I bloody swear if you step through that portal-" Constantine begins to threaten, but Tim doesn't stay to hear the rest. Sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission…

He steps through the portal and into his apartment with a tired sigh, looking forward to washing off all of the goop in the shower. Only to immediately be put on edge as his instincts begin to scream at him. Rook tries to gauge the threat in time, but he's too worn out from his previous fight and doesn't get the chance to react before getting thrown to the ground.

"Who are you and what are you doing in this apartment?" A gruff voice demands as large powerful hands pin him to the floor.

"Wha- Kon? What are you doing here?" Tim manages to wheeze, recognizing his attacker's grip and voice.

"How do you know my name? Who are you?" The super orders again, putting even more pressure on Rook's trapped limbs.

He's about to respond that he's Red Robin (not Tim in case Kon is compromised, he can't take any chances after all), when he remembers that he's currently in his Rook uniform. Just as this realizatin sets in, all of a sudden the room gets flooded with bright lights as the LED's in the Nest get powered on, revealing a whole crowd of heroes standing in Tim's base. All of the Bats as well as Kon, Bart, and Cassie are present.

Not an ideal situation to be sure.

"Look… I'm a friend of a friend, okay? So why don't you just let go of me and we can take it from there." He tries, relaxing his body and putting his arms up as much as he can into a gesture of surrender.

"A friend of a friend, huh? Well then you should be fine with telling us your identity." Superboy presses, not letting up.

"Rook. My name is Rook, okay?" Tim appeases, not sure if the others are aware of his second identity.

"Rook. So you're Constantine's apprentice. In that case I'm sure you're aware of my rules about there being the no metas or magic in Gotham." Batman growls, stepping forward so that he's positioned in front of the other Bats.

"Yes, that's why I'm just stopping by to drop something off. If you just let me go, I'll be out of your hair, promise. Besides you can't really say "no metas in Gotham" when you have Superboy, Impulse, and Wondergirl here with you." Rook explains making up excuses for his presence as he goes, trying desperately to get out of this situation without having to reveal himself.

Nothing about this made sense anyways. Why were all of the Bats here if there was an Arkham break out? Even more confusing, was the question of why Cassie, Kon, and Bart were here?

"If that's all your truly here for, then surely you won't mind if we ask you a couple of questions?" Batman grunts, ignoring the second part of Tim's statement and pulling out a pair of magic dampening cuffs as he speaks.

Just as Rook is about to open his mouth to answer, another portal suddenly opens in the room.

"I'm taking your good booze as payment for leaving me to deal with the clean up!" The gruff voice of John Constantine calls out as he steps out of the portal.

"On second thought, it seems like you're busy at the moment." The older man backtracks as he takes in the scene before him.

Seeing an opportunity, Rook turns to stare at Constantine in a silent plea for help. Sure the guy was an asshole, but Tim likes to think that they've grown a bit close in their time working together. John was like the fun drunk uncle that he never had. And even if that sentament isn't mutual, hopefully Tim can win him over with the promise of beer and cigarettes.

"No, Nope. Sorry Tim, but this was always bound to happen eventually. Good luck kid, but I'm just going to head to a bar for my liquor." The traitor dismisses himself, already stepping back through the portal.

Leaving him to deal with the aftermath of that name drop (Thanks John! You're going to pay for that you motherfucker…).

"Tim!?" Just about everyone in the room exclaims in surprise and confusion, with Kon staring intensely at his face.

"There's no way that's Tim!" Nightwing almost shouts in disbelief as he bounds over and attempts to take his mask off.

"Its magic, so you're not going to be able to just take it off normally." Rook informs the other vigilante trying to twist away from the other's hands.

"Then it's a good thing we have these!" He hears Bart say, just before Tim feels the rush of displaced air and clamp of cold metal around his wrists.

Rook can't completely muffle his gasp at the pain that shoots through him as a result of having his magic forcibly cut off, reducing his body back into that of his seventeen year old self. His costume is likewise reduced to the simple combat armor and standard domino mask he was wearing before.

"Rob?! Is that really you?" Kon frets, finally releasing his hold on Tim.

"Yeah. It's me" He groans, pushing himself into a sitting position despite his body's protests. This isn't the first time that he's been stripped of his magic while moonlighting as Rook, but that didn't change how much the forced transformation sucked. It's different from when he seals his magic himself, more sudden and painful.

"I'd like to do some tests in the cave to be sure." Batman speaks before anyone else can get a word in.

"Let's just hurry up and get this done." Tim sighs, resigned to his fate. He honestly has no idea how his friends and the Bats will react to the fact that he's practically immortal. Not to mention how he even gained his immortality and magic.

Yeah… He's sure Batman will love to hear how one of his Robins is actually twenty-three, not seventeen, and has been making deals with demons since he was nine. This will definitely go over well.

"Are you sure that's really necessary B? I mean Constantine practically already confirmed that this was Tim. Maybe we should just hear him out first…" Dick argues, reaching out a hand to help his little brother to his feet.

"You know procedure Nightwing. With magic involved, we have no idea if this is our Tim. It's best if we run some tests so that we are able to understand exactly what we're dealing with." Batman reminds his former protege, stepping forward and taking a hold of Tim.

He doesn't resist as Bruce him leads him out of his own base and dumps him unceremoniously in the back of the Batmobile, flanked by Red Hood and Nightwing. Meanwhile Batman takes the drivers seat with Robin riding shotgun.

As they drive, Tim gets the realization that he has no idea how they got into his base without triggering any of his alarms. He has so many different security systems in place just for this reason, and yet his family and friends seem to have bypassed all of them. The only way they could have gotten in is with Barbara's help, but why go that far? Did they begin to suspect that something was off with him? If so when?

The drive to the cave takes no time at all as they come out of one of the many underground tunnels that leads to the main entrance. Bruce exits the car first followed by Damain, then finally Dick and Jason get out, allowing Tim to remove himself from the car. Steph and Cass arrive on their bikes with his friends following closely behind them just as Tim is ushered over to the in-house lab.

He answers all of Bruce's questions about their identities and different codes as the older man runs his usual tests. It isn't until Batman questions what his birthday is that Tim hesitates.

"Oh come on. You're telling me that you memorized all of those stupid codes, but forgot your own birthday." Jason scoffs from the side.

"Honestly Drake, you never fail to make a fool of yourself." Damian chimes in judgmentally with a shake of his head.

"Is it October fifteenth? No, that's what I changed it to last year…" Tim mumbles under his breath trying to remember what he put on his file this time. In hindsight it was probably a stupid idea to change the day, month, and year he was born whenever he went to update his file instead of just updating the year. But what would be the fun in that?

"Oh! August seventeenth. That's what it should be for this year." He remembers suddenly, not noticing the looks of disbelief from those around him.

"What do you mean for this year?" Stephanie blurts out, incredulous.

"I uh… Change my birthday every year for fun?" Tim tries shrugging his shoulders self-consciously.

"Wait, why would you do that?" Dick asks sounding, hurt at this reveal.

And oops, that was not the reaction Tim had expected. Anger and betrayal? Yes. Hurt feelings? No.

"No, we are not changing the subject to Tim's weird habits. What the fuck was all that magic bullshit back there?" Jason demands, pushing Dick aside to get a closer look at Tim.

That was more like it. He could deal with this.

"What magic shit?" Tim deadpans, completely feigning ignorance. He's the Robin that can lie to Batman. Surely he can gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss his way out of this one.

"The tests indicate that you have traces of infernal and celestial essence." Batman replies matter of factly.

And fuck, if that wasn't damning.

"Damn… That's crazy. So- uh- why were you guys all crowded in my base? I thought there was an Arkham break out, shouldn't we deal with that?" He says, attempting to divert the conversation while also gaining information.

"I don't know Tim, why don't you tell us what day it is?" Cassie speaks up from her place by the door with the rest of his friends.

"What?" Tim asks, casting a confused glance around the room to see if he can glean an answer from anyone.

"I think it's August seven… oh." He says as realization dawns upon him.

"Yeah. Oh." Cassie responds with a bite to her tone.

"We had a whole party planed dude. It was gonna be crash, but now you're telling us that today isn't even your birthday?!" Bart exclaims, hurt clear in his voice.

"Surprise?" Tim attempts to lighten the mood, but it ends up falling flat under the stares of his friends and family.

"I think we are owed a proper explanation for our troubles, Drake." Damian huffs, with his arms crossed in defiance.

"Yeah, okay that's fair." He sighs pushing his hair back despite the clink of the handcuffs still around his wrists. Between everything that happened at his base and the confirmation of his infernal essence, there was no plausible way he could keep this hidden.

"I should have known that I couldn't keep this secret forever." Tim chuckles self-deprecatingly.

"The truth is that when I was nine years old my parents unknowing gave me a grimoire from their latest exposition. Wanting to please my parents, I managed to translate it and uncovered that it could be used to summon demons. So, as a genius kid who was too curious for my own good, I attempted one of the rituals." He begins, telling them story of how he gained his powers and met Constantine.

"So… would you say that your closer to being a cryptid or a vampire?" Kon asks out of nowhere after Tim finishes his story.

His friend's question honestly throws him for a loop, because… What? After everything Tim just described, the first question he gets asked is if he's closer to cryptid or a vampire.

"Neither? I mean my magic is mostly demonic in nature with a few other celestials thrown in from deals that I've made while working with Constantine. Although, I guess cryptid would be closer than vampire." He replies after a few beats of contemplative silence.

"Damn." Kon swears, reaching into the pockets of his jacket and fishing out what looks to be a twenty dollar bill. He then hands the money over to Bart who's looking practically manic from excitement.

"Hell yeah! I knew it! OhmygoshthisissocrashIcan'twaittotellAnitawewonthebet!" His friend rambles, switching into speedster talk halfway through.

"I'm sorry, you guys placed bets on me?" He demands, able to pick out what Bart said since he's used to the way his friend talks, and turns his full attention to the rest of his former team

"I mean… What did you expect from us? It's not exactly like we're strangers to weird aging, so it wasn't too hard to clock the whole 'forever young' thing." Cassie points out as she hands her own share of money over to Bart.

"Honestly Rob, did you think that we wouldn't notice how you claim to be the same age even after years pass by?" Kon questions with a raised eyebrow.

"Well no one else ever did! How come you never brought it up before then?" Tim asks, completely lost for the first time in a long time. He's used to being able to read people well. Prides himself on his deductive reasoning, and yet he never picked up on his friends ever being suspicious of him. Or, never being suspicious of him in regards to his aging at least.

"It wasn't our business. Like Cassie said, we've all had our own struggles with aging." Bart shrugs, still counting up the money from the bet he won.

"So then what exactly was your bet?" He inquires with a mix of fear and intrigue.

"Well Kon and Greta bet that you didn't age because you were a vampire, Bart and Anita voted cryptid, and lastly me and Cissie thought that you were some kind of alien." Cassie explains, raising a finger for each wager.

"None of us were exactly right, but since Bart and Anita where the closest they win the money." Kon adds in, gesturing over to Bart.

"Man, I can't believe none of us guessed that you made a deal with the devil. Especially after some of the training exercises you put us through." Bart laments with a sigh.

"Wait. If your physical body doesn't age normally, and what we saw in your base was like the "real you." Then how old are you really?" Steph inquires curiosity and mischief written on her face.

"I'm twenty-three now, but my physical aging isn't linear. It's slowed down a lot more as I've grown older and gained more years." He admits looking down at his younger arms and hands.

"Oh my god, is that why you never dated anyone? I just thought you played for the other team." Steph blurts out in realization.

Tim elects to ignore her outburst and not correct her assumption. Coming out twice in one day seemed like a lot, even if he would rather come out as Bi than as an immortal with demonic powers.

"Wait, no. There's no way you're older than me!" Jason exclaims, horror written all over his face.

"How are you almost as old as me?" Dick panics, looking between Jason and Tim.

"Littler brother." Cass chimes in with a smile, and stands on her toes to pat Jason on the head.

"If you are truly twenty-three, then how come your body was so small back at your base when you were using your magic?" Damian challenges with a determined glint in his eyes.

Meanwhile, everyone else in the room bursts into laughter at Damian's words, causing the kid to turn bright red and start spitting like a wet cat.

"I do not see what is so hilarious about my question. Despite claiming to be older than Jason, Timothy's body was still about the same size as it is now. Surely that means that this whole thing is a farce." The brat sputters, not understanding why everyone seems to be laughing at him.

"Oh Dami, we're not laughing at you." Dick quickly reassures the boy between breaths.

"Yeah, brat. We're laughing at the fact even with magic, Timmy is still a shrimp." Jason barks out, wiping tears from his eyes.

Meanwhile Tim just ignores them and walks over to Bruce with his hands out.

"So… would you mind taking these handcuffs off?" He asks uncertainly. Bruce is the only one who hasn't said anything yet, just standing in the corner observing. Tim can only imagine the things that the man must be thinking about him right now.

"Have you ever used magic in the manor or on patrol?" Batman questions as he slowly takes the keys to the handcuffs out of his pocket, and begins to undo the lock.

"No. I only use magic against otherworldly threats when I'm with Constantine." Tim informs the older man, taking in a breath of relief when the cuffs finally come off.

"Then I don't see why anything needs to change. Just update your file to include your activities as Rook." Bruce says, ruffling Tim's hair and giving him a small smile.

Tim practically melts into the touch, allowing himself to be comforted by the acceptance that he never allowed himself to imagine he would receive.

"Hey Tim, when is your actual birthday?" Dick asks as the laughter dies down.

"Oh, it's July nineteenth." He replies, turning back to his siblings.

"Only a month late. We might as well eat the cake at least." Jason says with a shrug.

"The cake! Did anyone grab it, or is it still at the Nest?" Steph worries as she looks around at the other vigilantes present.

"Actually, you never took it with you." A voice calls out as Alfred steps into lab with an unimpressed look on his face.

"Ah. I knew we forgot something…" Bruce replies sheepishly with a glance at his kids.

"Dibs!" Bart calls, racing up the stairs to manor at super speed.

"Shit. We better hurry before Bart eats the whole thing!" Kon shouts, taking off after the speedster.

It doesn't take long before everyone is racing up the stairs, pushing and shoving to get into the manor first. But to everyone's surprise, Bart is simply sitting at the table bouncing his knee impatiently.

"Wow, I can't believe you guys thought that I would eat Rob's cake." his friend pouts indignantly.

" It wouldn't the first time you've stolen my food." Tim shoots back with a shrug, as he plops into the chair next to Bart.

Soon his family and friends are all sitting around the dining room singing "happy birthday" to the seventeen/twenty-three-year-old for the first time. In the end he isn't able to hold back his tears, aa a couple drip down his cheeks and onto the embroidered tablecloth. No one mentions it though, not even Damian.

"I'll do the honors of cutting the cake." Jason offers, suddenly summoning flaming swords out of thin air.

"Are those the fucking All Blades!?" Tim swears, instantly on his feet.

Unbeknownst to everyone at Wayne manor, on the computer screens back at the Nest is a simple message.

- Happy Belated Birthday Tim :)

- O

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