Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dick

Dick dared glance across the table. In the past week, he’d gotten into a kind of schedule, like his social worker had told him to do, as something to keep himself focused. But this was throwing him off. Way off.

He took a hesitant bite of Alfred's amazing pancakes, unable to take his eyes off the elephant in the room. Why Bruce lied to the social worker, and worse, to Dick, he wasn’t too sure. It wasn’t like Dick minded that Bruce already had a kid, it was just, he would’ve liked a little heads up at least!

“Could you please pass the syrup?”

For someone you couldn’t be more than 4 years old, the little blue-eyed, black haired boy seated at the table with Dick was very good at enunciating his words.

“Thank you very much.”

For someone you couldn’t be more than 4 years old, the kid was an impossibly clean eater. Dick felt sloppy in comparison.

“G‘Morning, chum,” Bruce, the man of the hour, yawned, finally making his entrance. 

It took a very pointed look from Dick and chugging a whole cup of coffee, before Bruce finally realized.

“Oh, right. I see you’re met. Dick,” he said, waving his hand at the little boy, “this is Tim Drake. He’s our neighbor. Tim,” the kid looked up, “hey, bud. I told you about Dick, remember? He’s my ward, he’s going to be living with me from now on.”

Tim nodded in understanding. He extended a small and, again, very clean hand (for someone eating syrupy pancakes!) across the table.

“Charmed to make your acquaintance, Dick.”

“Right.” Gingerly, Dick shook his hand. “Likewise.”

It was made official from their first meeting.

I hate him.

---

A year later, Dick’s opinion hadn’t changed much. Just as Bruce said, Tim only ever came over to the manor on weekends. Two days out of the week.

He would eat breakfast, lunch and dinner, then at the end of the day, Tim went home. He would sit silently in the library, reading books for hours. And, Dick’s least favorite, he liked watching Dick when he used the gymnastics equipment Bruce had set up for him. 

The only exception to this rule was one weekend out of the month which, as Alfred had explained it to him way back then, was when the Drakes were home.

Dick hated the Drakes, no questions asked. They made nosy, little Tim look like an angel in comparison. Just being in the same room as them, with their society smiles and judgmental looks, it made Dick nauseous. Like he was facing a pair of venomous snakes.

It was obvious how much they loved their son, considering that besides their digs, he was all they ever talked about. How smart he was, how talented, how perfect Timothy Drake could do no wrong.

That was why, during charity galas, like the one he and Bruce were attending now, he made sure to stay as far away from them as possible. 

He was chatting with a group of women, putting on his usual charming act, when he felt someone pulling at his pants leg. Glancing down, Dick recognized Tim.

“Just a minute,” he told him, returning to his conversation. Moments later, he felt the tugging again and he lightly patted his head. “Give me a second, Tim.”

The motion stopped.

One of the older women, Vera or something,  was in the middle of re-telling one of her boring stories, when she trailed off mid-way, looking down.

“Oh no, sweetie, what’s the matter?”

Dick turned around to find Tim staring at the ground, hyperventilating and very red in the face. Going right into action, Robin instincts acting up, Dick knelt down in front of him. In the year he’d known Tim, he’d always seemed like a grown man trapped in a child’s body. Now, trying desperately to hold back tears, he looked like the kid he really was.

“Tim? Timmy, what happened?”

With a sob, Tim threw his arms around Dick’s neck, gasping for air. Feeling guilty for ignoring him earlier, Dick shushed him hurriedly, rubbing his back and holding the back of his head. 

“It’s ok, buddy, it’s okay. What’s wrong, do you feel sick? Does it hurt somewhere?”

Tim hiccupped into his throat, shaking his head. “I’m lost ,” he whimpered.

And Dick couldn’t, not for the life of him, understand what that meant. How could Tim possibly be lost? He’d been to the Robinson’s house at least a dozen times, it just didn’t make any sense that he was lost.

“How about we go find your parents?” Dick suggested.

His stomach sank as he felt his collar start to become wet and Tim shuttered with another sob. Definitely panicking now, he glanced around the room, trying to locate Bruce. Carefully picking the little boy up, spotting Bruce just across the floor chatting with a group of Gotham’s most elite, he rushed over to him.

Bruce looked up as they approached, eyes going wide.

“Tim? Honey, what’s the matter?”

Tim didn’t answer, tightening his grip on Dick and going unnaturally silent.

“He said he’s lost,” Dick explained, sharing a look with Bruce that clearly stated he didn’t know what that meant either.

The people around them began to whisper, looking around the room as rumors already began to spread.

“Where are the Drakes?” They asked. “Has anyone seen them?”

As it turned out, Jack and Janet had left earlier to catch their flight to Italy. And in their hurry to leave, they’d forgotten their own son.

Dick and Bruce spent the rest of the night with him, taking poor little Timmy back to the manor. Who, no matter how tightly Dick hugged him, wouldn’t stop crying. The whole time, Bruce kept trying to reassure him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, they’re coming back. I know your parents love you very much. They're going to call you later as soon as they land,” he kept repeating. Almost like he was trying to convince himself, more than Tim.

For the first time, Dick started to wonder if the Drake’s truly loved their son.

He didn't get time to figure it out, though. The next morning, someone came to pick Tim up to send him to boarding school.

Three years later, Dick already pushed that thought out of his mind. There was a big fall out between him and Bruce, stripping him of his Robin title, and Dick was already Blüdhaven-bound, by the time Timmy Drake was back in Gotham.

Tim

At age 9 and ¼, Tim has established his position as The Shadow, the GCPD’s anonymous informant. 

He was the best, and he knew it. Okay, except for maybe Batman, but Tim was still smart enough to have figured out the Dark Knight’s identity, right? Tim had Bruce Wayne pegged before the tender age of 5, after all. That set him on track as one of the best detectives Gotham ever saw, at least in Tim’s book.

Tim sighed as he snapped another shot of an arms deal going down at Gotham Pier. Just a couple of Penguin’s guys he’d have to follow into Crime alley later. He missed Robin. Don’t get him wrong, Batman was cool and everything, but Robin was his better half! 

But he wasn’t all that disappointed though, there were rumors flying around of a new vigilante in Blüdhaven. A man they called Nightwing. 

Glancing up from his camera, Tim cursed. His guys were already on they’re way out. Quickly putting his camera back in it’s case, he took chase from the shadows. He knew the general direction they were headed, so he aimed for a short cut. All The Shadow needed now was the exact address, so he could get that to Gordon and then they could get the warrant. 

Cutting through an alleyway, Tim stopped for a second, backtracking… That was the Batmobile he just saw, and was that? A kid stealing the tires?

Yes, yes it is!

Tim shook his head. He didn’t have a moment to lose, that was Batman’s problem, not his. Besides, wherever the car was, the Bat couldn’t be too far. And there was no way Tim was risking the one thing he was good at in life by sticking his neck out.

A couple blocks later, he spotted the car again, pulling into the driveway of a little corner store. Dashing down the street, he pulled up his binoculars to try and spy through the window. 

Penguin’s two guys shook hands with the woman behind the counter, who gestured for them to come into the back. Tim smirked to himself, taking note that there was a possible hidden room, perhaps below the shop.

It was a Friday night, so Tim decided it was best to go to bed now. He liked using the Batcomputer in the early hours when Mr. Wayne (‘Tim, I keep telling you, it’s Bruce ’) was still in bed, and Mr. Pennyworth (‘Master Tim, just Alfred is quite alright’) was convinced he was in the library while he prepared breakfast.

He was glad it had only taken him a couple weeks of readjustment to get back into his old routine. It’d taken his way longer when he was 4 ½ and just starting to learn how to sneak around the astute butler. But, hey it all worked out, and Tim just wanted to compare some notes with Batman before he had to put on his whole ‘Timothy Drake, rich brat’ act.

Even though he was way too old for a sitter, Tim could understand why Mr. Wayne was still convinced he had one, he was so old fashioned like that - he still lived with his butler after all! (Mr. Pennyworth is technically family though, and Tim loved him). He was just glad, even though all the fake payments were tedious, that the Waynes were so nearsighted, they actually continued to believe his ‘nanny’ had weekends off, because the moment he came back, they’d invited him to return.

He liked his time in Wayne Manor, and even with Dick gone, Tim was sure as long as he visited sometimes, things wouldn’t change too much.

(Oh was he wrong.)

Jason

When Jason suspiciously came down for breakfast, he froze when he reached the dining room. At the table, another black hair-blue eyes boy looked up at him, puzzled.

The first thing that popped into his head was:

Oh God, I knew it, Wayne is a pervert! I never should have followed Batman home!

He practically jumped a foot in the air when the man in question appeared behind him, yawning.

“Hey, chum,” Bruce said sleepily, sitting down heavily at the table, reaching for a cup of coffee.

Jason, rooted to the spot, and the kid stared at each other for 10 whole minutes, until Bruce took notice.

“Oh, yeah, Jason, sit down.” 

He didn’t move. 

“Don’t worry, buddy, this is just Tim Drake. He lives next door. His nanny is out on weekends, so he stays here.” 

Tim turns back to his breakfast as Jason approaches.

“Hi…” Jason manages. 

“Pleased to meet you, Jason,” Tim said, blinking at him with an expression Jason just wanted to slap off his face.

He extends a hand, but Jason doesn’t take it, narrowing his eyes.

“He’s in...” Bruce glances at Tim. “Aren’t you in 5th grade now Tim?”

“6th,” Tim corrects pointedly. He looks at Jason again, hand tucked away. “What grade are you in, Jason.”

“None,” Jason growled. “I don’t do school.”

Bruce frowned. Tim smiled.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad. I love school.”

And Jason just knew from that moment. Just that first encounter made it very clear.

I hate this little shit.

Chapter Text

Jason

In the 2 and a half years since Jason started living with billionaire Bruce Wayne, he made a lot of self discoveries:

1) Jason loved being Robin. He loved the freedom of flying. He loved catching bad guys and beating up villains. He Loved the feeling of helping people, especially the kids of Crime Alley.

2) Dick/Nightwing wasn’t all that bad. They’d been getting along pretty well lately, and Dick was both a way more patient mentor than Bruce, as well as a cool older brother. He liked hanging out with him when he visited, and thought he was going to burst when he was introduced to the Titans as his ‘little brother.’

3) Jason didn’t like Timothy Drake.

There were a lot of things Jason could say about his neighbor, like, how he was a miniature Janet Drake. Or how he liked stalking Jason in the library, trying to read anything he read. Or the ‘coincidental’ fact that he was in the same 9th grade class as Jason. He didn’t believe in coincidences. He knew, just knew, Tim had to be tampering with his own English grades. 

Case and point? Jason glared across the classroom at Tim, giving his presentation on ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ . For a supposed child prodigy, the kid didn’t even come close to understanding Shakespearean English. 

Jason could give it to him though, he was doing a great job getting sympathy points from their teacher. For all it was worth, he was a top rate actor. Pretending to be sick was definitely making Ms. Smith feel bad for him, her face showed it all, like she was watching a kicked puppy.

Gullible dumbass. 

It was pathetic, actually. What rich kid had bags that dark under their eyes? The sweating and trembling were overkill, too. The cherry on top? When he stopped right in the middle, hand covering his mouth, and shot out of the room. As if he was actually nauseous.

“Oh, dear!” Ms. Smith exclaimed, visibly worried. Jason froze when he realized her eyes were on him. “Can somebody go check on him?”

That was how Jason found himself losing his own time slot, all because he was walking all the way to the bathroom, chasing after a faker. He pushed the door to the men’s room open, looking around for Tim.

“Tim? Are you here?”

Fuck, maybe he left-

Jason turned his head when he heard retching coming from a stall. He couldn’t move for a moment, because it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

“Tim?” He asked, approaching tentatively. Whimpering answered him and Jason almost ripped the stall door off its hinges. “Holy shit, Tim!”

Tim, pale faced, with a small trail of spit coming down the side of his mouth, looked up at Jason with glazed eyes.

“J’s’n…” His throat bobbed. “ Hur’s .”

Panicking, Robin training flying out the window, Jason grabbed a wad of toilet paper. He wiped at Tim’s chin, catching him when he fell against him, breathing harshly.

“Fuck. Fuck. Tim, you gotta stay with me, come on, kid! Timmy! Help!”

--

Jason’s leg bounced as he waited outside of Tim’s room. Bruce had arrived a few hours ago. Everyone was yet to tell him what was wrong .

A hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up, seeing Alfred. 

“You did good, lad. The young master will be alright now.”

“But, what-” Jason licked his lips, feeling a pressure behind his eyes. “What happened Alfie? Why was he so sick?”

Alfred sighed. “Nothing more than a bad case of food poisoning, the poor boy. It appears that just the other day, his nanny quit and he attempted preparing a meal for himself.”

Jason managed to snort wetly. “Where’d he learn to cook, Bruce?”

“One might think?” Alfred gave him a small smile, squeezing his shoulder. “On that note, Master Jason, Master Bruce asked me to tell you something.”

“Yeah, okay… What is it?”

“Ah, well, you see…”

A month later, even after the food poisoning scare, Jason still couldn’t stand Tim. Living in the same manor full time just increased all the levels of tension. Why, you might ask? 

The stiff, cold Janet demeanor! Stalking Jason in the library! Definitely tampering with that English grade!

The real question was, why wouldn’t Jason hate Tim?

Tim

The Shadow made a critical mistake. 

After years of solving cases for Gordon and the GCPD, he never suspected Batman would take an interest in investigating him.

It hadn’t taken the Dark Knight more than a couple months, with the help of Batgirl, to figure out the way Shadow was getting some of his resources was the Batcomputer. The one thing he hadn’t known was how he got access to it. After all,  who would suspect, perfect, sweet, little Tim Drake to be one of the best detectives?

Neither Tim or Batman would, apparently. Because while Tim didn’t see it coming that he would get caught by such a stupid trap, the Bat never expected to find him in it.

“Tim...othy Drake?”

Batman and the Shadow stared at each other, facing off in a back alley. Where Tim had dumbly thought he was meeting an informant.

“No? I’m Alvin Draper,” Tim tried to assure. Batman crossed his arms.

“Son, what- why-” Batman groaned, passing a hand down his face. “What are you doing here? Are you… working for Shadow, sweetheart?”

“No,” Tim rolled his eyes. “That would be ridiculous and reckless. I’m just on a midnight walk, Mr. W-atman.”

They stayed in silence for what felt like an eternity. 

“Tim…”

“Mr. Wayne…” 

“Shit- I mean crap! Crap. You’re Shadow. Of course you are,” Batman snorted. “Well, that sure explains everything- No wait! Oh my God, Tim!” 

Out of nowhere, taking Tim by surprise, Batman has him in his arms inspecting him all over.

“You’ve been doing this, what? A little over three years? Do you know how reckless this is? How much danger you’re in? This isn’t a game-”

“I know that!” Tim said, wriggling out of his grasp. “It’s my job.”

“Job? Tim, you’re 13!”

“Yeah, and I’m good.” He looked reproachfully up at Batman. “Some might say I’m better than you. I help people on a more personal level, you know.”

“Jesus.” Batman picked up again, this time making sure his hold was tighter. “Chum, how have you been doing this? Do your parents know? Or your nanny, how do you leave the house without her knowing?”

Tim looked down, feeling his face heat up. “She… She doesn’t stay the night anymore, because I’m old enough.”

“Tim…”

“Look, Batman. I’m perfectly fine, I’ve never taken big risks, and I’m fine. Trust me.”

Tim successfully convinced Batman and Mr. Wayne that he was okay, and had stopped going out as much, for about two weeks. Until he got too close to a drug trafficker and ended up with a nasty cut. A nasty cut he told himself he would ‘deal with tomorrow,’ only for it to get infected.

One moment he’s throwing up in the school bathrooms, and the next thing Tim knew, he was walking up at the hospital.

“Tim…”

“Mr. Wayne…”

“Master Tim.”

Tim let his head drop against his pillow. Of course Mr. Pennyworth was there too. Then he looked up, remembering what happened.

“Jason isn’t here too, is he?” he asked hurriedly, because how could Tim embarrass himself in front of his favorite Robin like that!!?

“Yes, Master Jason is waiting outside,” Mr. Pennyworth informed him patiently. 

“Oh, no, does he know?” Tim panicked. “Does he know about that ?”

“No,” Mr. Pennyworth answered again. He frowned. “But I certainly do. I have heard all about your extracurricular activities, Master Tim.” 

“Oh, uh…” Tim didn’t need to bother finding the right words.

“Tim, where is your nanny?” Mr. Wayne abruptly said, his eyes serious and boring holes into Tim.

“Uh, she’s out sick.”

“Can you remind me of her name again? I have a bad memory.”

“Mrs. Mac.”

“That’s the housekeeper, we’ve met. Try again.”

“Shelly- no, Sherry?”

“Master Tim,” Mr. Pennyworth said gently, “how long have you been staying in that house alone?”

Tim bit his lip. “I haven’t needed a sitter since I got back from boarding school. I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“Do your parents actually come home once a month, chum?” Mr. Wayne took his small hand into his own larger one. “Sweetheart, can you tell me the truth?”

“No,” Tim whispered. “But they have important digs they have to be in person for, and I don't want to get in their way by asking them to come home once a month . That’s too excessive.”

Mr. Wayne slowly inhaled and let out a deep sigh. 

“Tim, I want you to stay at Wayne Manor with us.”

Tim’s eyes went wide, almost popping out of his head.

“Oh no, Mr. Wayne, you don’t have to monitor me! I’ll be good, I promise!”

“It’s not about that Tim, I promise you,” Mr. Wayne assured him. “Though we will be having a more in depth conversation later. I want you to stay so you’re not all alone.”

“Oh. I- well- okay? But, can you… not tell Jason or Dick?” 

He’d rather hide in a hole forever than let his idols, his brothers, hate him for having known all along and lied about it.

---

A month of staying in Wayne Manor, no Shadowing at all, and Tim was bored. No, he was desperate. The people of Gotham needed him.

Which was why, glad for Nightwing being back in town (great shiny distraction), Tim went out for the first time. There were friends in Crime Alley he wanted to check up on and assure that he wasn’t dead or something.

But first, there was a really nice Gotham night sky just begging to be photographed- Tim ducked into the shadows when Robin and Nightwing landed on his rooftop.

“I hate Tim,” he distinctly heard Robin telling Nightwing. 

His breath caught in his throat. 

Why? I don’t understand… I thought we were friends… I thought we were...  

“Don’t say that,” Nighwing sighed. “He’s just a kid.”

Just a kid?

“Oh come on, you don’t buy the whole ‘the nanny quit’ thing too? I mean, I know he’s the worst to be around-”

Tim took a step back. And another.

“-But he’s got loving, rich parents that could just get him another one.”

“That’s just it, though.” Nightwing frowned. “I don’t think his parents really love him.”

There’s a rush of air as he fell backwards and Tim let out a scream. Right before he hit the pavement, strong arms caught him, setting him down. He looked up, vision blurring, into the horrified face of Nightwing. His breathing became rapid as Robin landed behind them.

“Fuck, Timmy, how did you get up there!”

“Are you hurt? Did you hurt yourself? Where does it hurt!”

“Jesus, kid, you need to breathe! ‘Wing, stop crowding him!”

“Tim, what-”

Tim socked Nightwing in the jaw and made a break for it, his feet moving instinctively.

“I HATE YOU!”

Why wouldn’t the tears stop falling down his face? It was very hard to see like that.

How inconvenient. Just like me.

Dick

Dick’s head was ringing. He knew what Tim just said, but all he could hear, all he could see, was little 5 year old Timmy clinging to his neck sobbing.

‘I’m lost!’

“He heard…” Jason said hoarsely, looking down at him. “Shit. He heard that.” His voice went up an octave in panic. “‘Wing. ‘Wing, I didn’t mean it!” Jason wailed, gripping Dick’s shoulder. “He’s all alone, we have to go after him!”

Shaking himself, still dazed from the surprisingly strong sucker punch, Dick pulled himself to his feet. 

“Come on, let's go!”

“On foot?”

“How hard can it be catching up with him?”

Tim, I’m so sorry...

Chapter Text

Dick

It was in fact very hard, both trying to keep up with Tim as he ran, as well as keeping track of him. It was like he was melting into the shadows of Gotham. Like he’d done this before, run like his life depended on it.

But that was impossible! This was Tim Drake, rich heir to Drake Industries, the tiny nerdy kid from next door!

If Jason hadn’t realized he was heading back to the manor, they would have lost him. Dick and Jason stopped their chase as they reached the front steps of Wayne Manor, catching their breaths before stepping in.

“Tim?” Dick called out. He didn’t want Alfred to come up from the Batcave. They could handle this alone...right?

“Tim?” Jason echoed. He looked at Dick. “Hey, how does he know… or does he know?”

Dick shook his head, unable to come up with an answer. Because he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about Tim. 

A sob broke through the air and the pair rushed into the dining room. Where Tim was clutching desperately to Alfred, crying so hard, he was barely breathing.

“Timmy!”

Alfred gave them a raised eyebrow before looking down at Tim.

“Whatever is the matter, dear boy?”

“Alfred!” Tim wailed, completely dropping his usual ‘Mr. Pennyworth.’ “Tell them to stop lying! Tell them to stop lying!”

Dick felt cold. He took a step forward, reaching for the kid, only for him to  flinch away violently. Tim buried his face deeper into Alfred’s apron.

“My parents love me! Mr. Wayne told me they do! Alfred, tell Dick to stop lying about it!”

Alfred gently patted his back, eyes now trained on Dick.

“Master Tim,” Alfred began. “I do not know what happened, but the Young Masters ,” he aimed a glance at Jason, “should be more mindful of what they say. I assure you, your parents very much care about you.”

Tim continued to sob, hyperventilating, breathing way too quickly.

“Timmy?” Dick knelt behind him. “Tim, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Shut up!” Tim panted. “You meant to say it!”

“Shit, Tim, we were just-” Jason tried, unfreezing.

“I’m so stupid!” He was interrupted, Tim’s voice cracking wetly. “I should've known you hated me from the beginning. Both of you! All the signs were right there in my face! I’m a stupid idiot and I ignored all of them! Nobody likes me anyway, why would I ever think you do?”

Dick’s heart shattered and he heard Jason give a sharp inhale. 

“Oh, Tim,” Dick whispered. This time he got his hands as far as Tim’s shoulders before he let out a shriek. 

“No! Don’t touch me! You gave me my first hug ever, but I never want you to hug me again !”

First hug ever?

At that, Alfred pulled Tim away from Dick, looking at something over their shoulders.

“Master Tim, why don’t you join me in the kitchen. I think those three need to have a conversation. And I believe some hot chocolate might do you some good.”

The butler spirited the crying boy away, leaving Nightwing and Robin to face-

“Batman.”

“What the hell is happening?” Bruce demanded in a growl, cowl coming down. “Explain, now.”

“I said his parents didn’t love him,” Dick told him, throat bobbing.

“I said I hated him,” Jason said, a pained expression on his face, tears probably hiding behind his domino mask.

“How could you ever say that to him? How did Alfred and I ever raise you to think that was ok?” Bruce Bat Glared at them, interrupting it to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. “I can’t even- Jason, I thought you two got along, I thought you were friends. And Dick…” He gave the dreaded disappointed sigh. His voice lowered. “Dick, I have no words for you. I don’t care what your opinion is on that , Tim loves his parents. He's a child who thinks he has to earn their love.”

“I gave him his first hug?” Dick asked, mouth tasting like he swallowed a whole desert. “Bruce, his parents don’t hug him?”

“Is he touch-starved?” Jason asked.

“I expected better from both of you,” Bruce said. “I’m going in there to talk with him, but you two are grounded, do you understand?” They looked away. “Go change. I want you to spend the next three weeks not only reflecting on your actions and apologizing, but getting to know Tim. Like you should have by now, because I promise you, he is the smartest and most kind-hearted kid you will ever meet.”

Storming past them, Bruce stopped to make his final, cutting point.

“Why do I get the sense you didn’t even know how much he idolizes you?”

And he was right, Dick should have known. He could imagine little Timmy standing at the door of the gym, watching him, eyes full of wonder and awe. Too scared to come in, too shy to ask Dick if he could teach him, too love-hungry to understand how to just be a kid.

The events of that gala became vivid too. Who else would’ve Timmy trusted to help him, if not his big brother ?

Why didn’t I realize Tim Drake deserves all the hugs in the world?

Jason

He’d fucked up and he knew it.

Why was I so blind?

Jason remembered it all clearly now. Once, when he was sitting in the library doing homework, a long shadow had fallen over his text book, and he’d looked up to find Tim staring at him.

“Do you want me to tutor you? I’m really good at Math, I get all A’s, I can help you .”

“I don’t need help. I know how to do math, thanks.”

“Oh- Well, what about Science? I’m good at that one too.”

“No, thank you. I don’t need any tutoring.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Overcome with the thought that Tim was trying to rub it in that he was smart, he didn’t see the book he was holding in his arms. It wasn’t math, science, or even a textbook. It was a copy of 'Pride and Prejudice ’ that they were supposed to read for class, the one that was Jason’s all-time-favorite. Tim clutched the book tighter and sat down next to him.

The entire time, Tim wanted Jason to help him, but thought he needed to exchange something for it. And when he didn’t get what he came for, he just gave up, resigning himself to doing it alone.

So here Jason was at the library, the next afternoon, holding ‘ Pride and Prejudice ’. He was no Dick, who could always hug all his troubles away (though that might not apply this time), but Jason had his own way of doing things. Tim was sitting on a sofa, his knees pulled to his chest, wrapped up in a blanket. He could do this.

I can do this.

Plopping down next to him, Jason cracked the book open to the first page. He cleared his throat and began reading from the top of chapter 1.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a-”

Tim stood up, blanket discarded, red-faced and watery-eyed.

“I prefer Agatha Christie,” be proclaimed before disappearing, most likely to find Alfred.

Yes, Jason could work with that! Later that day, he found Tim curled up with his laptop, screen blank, in the den. Jason sat down next to him, with ‘ And Then There Were None ’ already open. He skipped the Frank Green bit, and began reading from the top of chapter 1.

“In the corner of a first-class smoking carriage, Mr. Justice-”

“I don’t think I like books anymore!”

Tim ran away, forgetting his laptop. And shit. Maybe Jason didn’t have this.

His thoughts swam with the guilt he felt when he thought Tim was faking being sick. This was like that time, but tenfold. 

Maybe his only consolation was that Dick probably had it worse.

Dick, Jason

(Dick)

“Tim, can I please just give you a hug?”

“...”

“Tim? Is that a- Oh, okay.”

(Jason)

“Oh, hey, Tim! I was just about to watch a Star Wars movie, do you want to watch it with me? Which one’s your favorite?”

“I don’t like movies… and- and Star Wars is the worst!”

(Dick)

“Oh, Tim, what a coincidence! You’re coming back from that bathroom? I was just headed to the gym! If you want, I can show you how to do a really cool-”

“...”

“- That’s okay, maybe next time, yes? Is that yes?”

(Jason)

“Guess what, I was going through my stuff and I found this really old video game, and I totally remember how awesome that one was. So I was thinking, ‘hey, Tim likes video games too, right?’ And I figured we could play together!”

“I don’t like video games. I don’t like games in general. I don't even like videos!”

(Dick)

“Holy cow! Is that an Alfred sandwich? I love those too! You know what else I really love? Or should I say who-”

“...”

“You! I was trying to say… Did you hear that? Do you think he heard that?”

(Jason)

“So this one time, B and I were chasing the Riddler, and we totally misunderstood one of his riddles. It went something like: I have cities but no houses. I have mountains, but no seas-”

“Trees.”

“Oh yeah, trees . That makes sense. ‘I have water, but no fish. What am I?’ And so we thought it was a-”

“An island. A clue under the kitchen island of the house.”

“Which really makes no sense, right? And, but it was actually-”

“A map that led to the next clue. Jason , I know . I figured that one out, like hours before you. That’s how the police got to the Riddler first that night.”

“Oh… Wait, what!?”

---

By the end of the week, neither Jason nor Dick, who wasn’t even being talked to, had made any progress. Which left them with only one option.

“I don’t want to, Jason, I feel like I’m admitting defeat here,” Dick said, biting his lip.

They stared at the phone sitting between them on Jason’s bed, where they were conspiring together. 

“Dickwad. Just accept it already. ‘I love Alfred sandwiches too,’” Jason mimicked Dick in a high pitched voice. “You followed him to the bathroom, that just proves you have no shame! Make the call.”

“Ok, fine. ” Dick picked up the phone, waiting a couple seconds as it rang. “Babs! We haven’t talked in, like, ages- Oh, you’ve heard… Why would- Ok. Thanks.” He ended the call with a dejected sigh.

“What she say? Is it that bad? Is there no hope?” Jason physically shook him for an answer. “Nightwing, report!”

Dick sighed again. “She just said to check his file on the Batcomputer. But that feels like such a breach of privacy-”

Jason slapped his forehead. “Hello, Megan!* Of course, why didn’t I think of that?” (*YJ)

Making sure Bruce was at the office and Alfred was in the kitchen, the two of them made their way to the Cave. Of course, that they didn’t account for was Tim’s whereabouts. 

Dick didn’t jump a whole foot, it was barely an inch- nay, a millimeter. And Jason didn’t yelp, it was a very manly sound of surprise. Tim didn't even look up from his laptop, which he had connected to the big, main computer.

“Tim, how did you get down here?” Jason asked, walking towards him. 

“I’ve been coming down here since I was 5, thank you very much,” Tim answered with a yawn, typing away at a fast pace.

“Oh, my gosh!” Dick exclaimed, putting an arm over the back of the chair, looking over Tim’s shoulder. “You’ve known our identities that long?”

“Jason,” Tim said coolly, “could you tell Dick that ‘well, duh, of course Bruce Wayne is Batman.’ And ‘try to think about who many people know how to do a Grayson’s quadruple flip.’”

Jason turned to Dick. “Dick, Tim would like you to know-”

“Ouch, low blow,” Dick pouted, interrupting him before he could parrot the whole thing. He looked closer at the laptop, then the Batcomputer. “Hey, those pictures look a lot like the Shadow’s work… and isn’t that Commissioner Gordon’s email you have open?”

“...”

“Jason,” Dick whines, prompting his brother to talk to Tim for him. 

“Tim. What.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Tim sighed, hitting send on the email. He raised an eyebrow, turning around.

Dick and Jason did get something from Batgirl’s advice. They found out that day that Tim was the notorious Shadow of Gotham City.

Chapter Text

Tim

Tim hadn’t slept well in days and Barbara thought it was making him ‘cranky.’ Personally, Tim preferred the term ‘moody,’ which was much less childish. Besides, Tim had gone with far less sleep before, and if anything, it made him function even better.

At least it made interacting with his EX-favorite heroes (never brothers) easier.  It was less (very) painful talking with Jason, since Tim was used to interacting with people who hated him, by staying out of the way. Of course, Jason just had to make it harder by wanting to please Mr. Wayne, which meant he was chasing him all over the house with new activities Tim had to insist he didn’t like. Not liking ice cream was a bit of an overkill. 

Dick, for one, was making it easier. All Tim had to do in that case was keep his mouth shut, that was something he could do really well. Though, it didn’t help that he did in fact want a hug. Eventually, the two would get bored of him, right? They’d probably beg Batman to let them back on patrol soon.

He was wrong, Dick was so wrong, and Tim was going to prove it. Deciding to momentarily break his silence, he waited at the door of the gym. As soon as Dick saw him, he came over, a radiant and hopeful smile on his face.

“Tim? Did you need something? I can’t believe you’ve been taking gymnastic classes this whole time! If you want-”

“I don’t,” Tim blurted out, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. Dick bit his lip. “I just wanted to say- I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay, take your time.” Dick crouched down in front of him, looking up into his face. “You can tell me anything.”

“They’re coming back this afternoon,” he finally managed to articulate. “I- you- they love me!”

Tim hightailed it out of there. He didn’t even wait for Dick’s response, because he didn’t want to know. Instead, speeding past Jason, Tim went to find Mr. Wayne… Bruce. He’d been practicing. ( ‘How can you call Alfred Alfred, and not call me Bruce?’ )

He knocked on his office door.

“Come in.” Bruce smiled when he saw Tim, making him squirm. “Hi chum, come here.” He extended out an arm in invitation and Tim barreled into him, curling into his side. “What’s up, Tim?”

“My parents are coming home in the afternoon and we’re spending the next couple days together,” Tim told him. 

“Oh?”

“Is it okay if I go back to my house?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course, bud,” Bruce assured him. “Do you want me or Alfred to drive you over? Or maybe Dick ?” he hinted, way too obviously.

Tim shook his head. “No, I’d rather walk, honestly.”

“Are you sure?” Bruce insisted. 

“Yeah don’t worry about it!”

After walking what felt like an eternity to Drake Manor, even though he’d done it a thousand times, Tim’s feet felt like lead and he was so tired. Yawning, he headed up to his bed. Maybe the lack of sleep really was affecting him. 

It should be fine if I just take a quick nap. Mom and Dad won’t be here for another hour or so…

---

By the time Tim woke up, it was well past 11p.m. Panicking, he ran out of his room, checking his parents bedroom. It was empty. He checked the whole house, but there wasn’t anybody there but him.

The line rang five times before Jack Drake answered, and that was after Janet never did. 

“Hello? Dad, where are you?”

Jack sighed in frustration from the other end. “Timothy, we are about to board our plane to Sierra Leone. Remember, we told you, we were invited to a special exhibit there?”

You didn’t tell me though. 

“I thought you were coming home today.” Tim held his breath.

“Timothy,” came his mother’s voice. “We stopped by earlier, to rest during our layover. If you’d been home, you would have known.”

Tim felt his stomach drop. He’d slept through his parents’ first visit in months.

“Jack, we’re boarding now, hang up.”

“We’ll call you later, champ.”

The line cut. Tim turned off his phone, steadying his breathing. Because, of course they wouldn’t call. Because, of course, Dick was right all along. Because, obviously , his parents had never loved him.

Wiping at a couple stray tears, Tim went back to his room, settling in front of his computer. Going through a couple of pictures to up his spirits, he paused when a message from one of his informants popped up. He clicked on it and scrambled out of bed, running to get his supplies and Shadow clothes.

Hold on Dick, I’m coming!

---

Before he knew it, Tim, dressed in his black jeans, hoodie and shitty homemade domino mask, was hiding behind a crate at Gotham Pier. A pair of heavy duty wire cutters weighed in his hand, trembling ever so slightly.

He watched as a group of Black Mask’s men stood at the end of the docks, laughing at the bird they’d captured. Nightwing was standing dangerously at the edge of the pier, hands chained behind his back, a smile still plastered on his face, despite his position.

Tim had to stop himself from moving immediately when one of the goons kicked Nightwing in the stomach, stuffing a fist into his mouth to hold back a scream, as Nightwing fell with a splash into the frigid water.

It wasn’t until the men had driven away, that Tim darted out of his hiding spot and jumped in. He swam deep, catching sight of a sinking Nightwing thanks to the bit of moonlight. Moving behind him, Tim used the wire cutters to cut the chains holding the vigilante’s arms taut. He dropped the wire cutters, swimming back up to the top for a second to take a breath of sweet air, before diving in once more.

It took a lot of effort to drag a semi-conscious Nightwing, who could barely paddle himself, all the way to rocky land. Laying back on the wet rocks, Tim felt the black and blue suit for its panic button, hoping Batman would come soon. Then, he reached a hand to check his pulse and breathing.

“Timmy?” Dick coughed weakly. “Tim?” Tim flinched as his voice cracked with a sob.

“Shh, I’ve got you.”

Tim adjusted his position awkwardly so that Dick’s torso was in lap, and his head was pillowed against his stomach. He threaded hesitant fingers through his once-hero’s sopping hair, eventually finding a rhythm. Dick started shivering and he wrapped his other arm over his shoulders in a hug.

“Don’t worry, I pressed your panic button. Batman’s coming. He’s coming,” Tim reassured him.

“Tim?” Dick whispered. 

“Yeah, it’s me. It’s going to be okay, don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.” Tim switched to rubbing a hand down his back, hoping it would both soothe, and warm him up a bit. 

“But- but-” Dick’s breath hitched, “your parents… I thought… I-”

Tim snorted wetly, letting out a small laugh. “God, you were right. They don’t love me. They came home while I was sleeping and I didn’t even know until I called them . They’d already left, without even telling me.”

“I’m sorry, ‘m so sorry, Timbird,” Dick slurred, sobbing. His arms sluggishly wrapped around Tim’s waist. “I love you... so much. You’re… my… baby… brother…” His words became quieter, but Tim heard every single one.

He pulled Dick closer. “Shh. I know, I know,” his voice cracked, “I love you too.”

Batman appeared behind them with a swoosh of his cape.

---

“How is he?” Tim asked Alfred, as the butler closed the door to Dick’s room. 

Alfred smiled at him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Not to worry, lad. Master Dick has himself a nasty cold, is all.” He gave him a quick pat before moving away. “I dare say he was lucky you arrived when you did.”

Tim ducked his head in embarrassment. “I’m- I’m just glad he’s okay. Nightwing is important.”

“As are you, Master Tim,” Alfred said as he left. 

Thinking of Alfred and Bruce and Dick, Tim felt a little warmer inside. Because, maybe, there was family that loved him after all.

---

Jason’s attempts at getting ungrounded by Bruce (yes, Tim knew about that, duh ) were becoming absolutely outrageous. It was driving Tim crazy!

1) Jason seemed to be able to find him everywhere, and nowhere in the manor was safe. He picked locks and hid in rooms, just to get to Tim and pose stupid riddles he found online. Smart Tim was compelled to answer them, because, ‘ please, it’s just too easy. ’ At this rate, one of them was going to become Riddler Jr… Tim had his money on Jason.

2) When they had to be together, Jason refused to shut up. If it wasn’t riddles, it was about Shadow. He’d go on and on, gushing over pictures or bringing up people they both knew from Crime Alley. It was just too much.

3) Tim’s least favorite, despite all of his supposed efforts, Jason still refused to associate with him at school. It infuriated Tim, because that just made his act all the more obvious, since the only place he ever put in energy was under Bruce’s nose!

Case and point? Easy, today, when he passed by Tim in the halls, he acted like he didn’t even exist. Tim had been talking to one of his debate club teammates, when they passed each other, Jason had glanced his way for a split second, before turning and walking faster.

Tim was tuning out his teammate’s voice, trying not to think about it, when he heard a metallic thud . He turned around as people started whispering. Jason was on the floor, back to the lockers, a group of seniors standing over him. Tim froze, because Jason had a hand over his right eye, where he’d presumably been hit. 

Then Jason’s uncovered eye met his gaze, and his once-hero looked down. The look of horror and shame clear as day on his face. Tim unfroze. 

“Excuse me.” 

The seniors turned around, attempting to stare Tim down. It didn’t work. He’d met the worst of the worst in the middle of the night in Gotham, he’d aided in putting them behind bars. He was a Drake who knew how to throw his power and money around.

“What’re you looking at, kid? Move along.”

He bent down next to Jason, gently moving his hand to inspect the damage. It was already starting to turn a nasty shade of purple. And Jason still wouldn’t look at him. 

“I don’t think Mr. Wayne will be very happy to find out that-” He cut himself off, turning to face them slowly, smiling. “Actually, I don’t think your parents will be very happy to find out you’re bullying Bruce Wayne’s son.”

“Tim…” Jason whispered, voice tight with fear. 

But he didn’t back down, because predictably, the seniors’ faces were becoming increasingly panicked. So he continued.

“You…” He aimed to look at one to the side of the group. “Aren’t your parents the Greens? I do believe they’re in the middle of getting Wayne Enterprises to fund their latest project. Actually,” Tim looked at each of them individually. “I dare say all of your folks could possibly lose a lot of money if Mr. Wayne got wind of this. Gosh, why, if I were to ask my parents, your parents wouldn’t even be able to turn to Drake Industries for help, and you might as well say goodbye to all of your families’ companies... and your inheritance.”

He smiled ever so innocently. “Have I made myself clear?”

The bell rang throughout the hall and people started shuffling away, the bullies running away as fast as they could. That left Tim alone with Jason, who was breathing hard, gripping his wrist. 

“Tim…” he started.

“Don’t worry, they’ll leave you alone from now on,” Tim assured him. “And if they try it again, I’ll-”

“Tim,” Jason turned to face him, eyes welling with tears. “You can’t tell Bruce, you can’t! He’s gonna- He’ll finally kick me out!”

Tim frowned. “No. Why would he do that? You’re his son.”

“But I-”

“Jason, no.” Tim assured, patting his arm as he helped him to his feet. “He loves you. Trust me I don’t think any parents but mine would want their kid to be bullied. If it were me, my dad would say: ‘Timothy, it builds character. Learn to be a man.’ But that’s not Bruce, you know that.”

“I-” Jason sighed. “I’m not going to unpack that right now, but we are getting back to it.”

“To what?”

“Never mind.” Jason shook his head. “You should probably go back to class now… Thanks for helping me.”

“Jason, no.” Tim sighed heavily, repeating himself. “We’re telling Bruce.”

“What! No!”

“You have to, Jason. It’ll be better if he heard it from you. But we can skip class and go eat ice cream first,” Tim decided. 

Jason snorted. “What about your friends though? Aren't...” His eyes were glued to the ground. "Aren't you embarrassed to be seen with me, 'cause of where I'm from? They- Your friends wouldn't like that..."

“I’d rather go get ice cream with you.”

Tim took his hand and walked them out of school grounds.

---

Tim waited outside Bruce’s office while Jason talked with him. Sliding down the wall, he yawned, rubbing his eyes. He wanted to stay awake for Jason, but he was just too sleepy.

He yawned again, eyelids drooping.

Come on Tim, stay awake… Stay awake…

When he woke up, Tim was in the den. He felt warm and comfortable, something heavy laying over him. He scrunched up his face and opened his eyes.

“Aw, Baby Bird, are you awake?” He heard Dick from above him. Tim looked up to realize he was laying with his head on his lap, Dick’s arms holding a sleeping Jason on top of him.

Jason murmured fussily in his sleep, cuddling Tim closer. Tim frowned at Dick who was laughing as quietly as he could.

“When did this happen?” he demanded. 

“After you fell asleep outside Bruce’s office, buddy,” Dick snickered, ruffling his hair, then smoothing it out of his eyes. “You were so tired, you were totally out of it on the floor… You know, growing little baby birds like you should be getting their rest. Watch out, Alfred is mad you aren’t sleeping when you're supposed to.”

“Crap,” Tim groaned. 

Jason grumbled, adjusting them in Dick’s lap, and buried his face into Tim’s shoulder.

“Shh, Timmy, go back to sleep,” he said, hugging him.

“Yeah, sleep.” Dick smiled.

So Tim went to sleep.