Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The manor was alive. Loud in a way that Tim didn’t know what to do with. Life was evident there in every corner. The kitchen was usually in a state of use. The garden had trodden paths where Alfred liked to walk. Every worn bit of carpet and every reverberating footstep was a testament of life.

And it made Tim bite his lip and twist his fingers together while he sat alone in his room.

It was so different than what he was used to. Drake Manor had been quiet. Except for when his parents were home. And those times he had done his best not to do anything to cause raised voices and slammed doors.

It didn’t always work out.

Obviously.

Abuse, neglect, caretaker absence and foster care.

He was tired of those words.

The floorboards in the hallway creaked in protest as Jason bounded his way to Tim’s room. They’d only had about a month of living under the same roof, but school would be out soon and, according to Jason, this summer was going to be the greatest ever.

“Tim!” the boy shouted from the hall. “Let’s go!”

Tim forced his hands to settle. He unclenched his jaw and freed his lip from his teeth.

“I’ll be right there.”

Sometimes, Tim missed the quiet.

He had defended his parents. He had insisted that he was fine and able to take care of himself.

But now, with so many people around, he couldn’t deny that there was something not quite right with him, with everything he knew. He saw it in the way the inhabitants of the house looked at him sometimes. When he jumped at a loud noise or went quiet for hours at a time.

The realization that there was something wrong with him came to him slowly, in broken pieces.

Broken like the bowl shattered across the dining room floor.

He had been trying to get used to Saturday breakfasts. The fact that the whole household ate together at the table? It was so odd. Even when his parents were home, they didn’t eat together at their oversized dining table.

“Your hair is getting long,” Bruce remarked as Dick joined them, his hair still mussed from sleep. Dick brushed strands from his eyes with a short laugh. He was visiting for the weekend, something he had been doing a lot more after Tim officially moved in. It meant more people sitting around the table, eating all at once.

Tim was never going to get used to it.

He stirred his oatmeal with strawberries and a pinch of cinnamon on top, watching Jason spoon way too many chocolate chips into his own bowl.

“At least put some fruit,” Bruce tried to reason with him. Jason smirked.

“If there are this many toppings, I’m going for the chocolate first. We all know this.” Jason pushed the bowl towards Tim. “Trade me the strawberries, Timmy.”

Tim moved the bowl of strawberries toward Jason and shifted the bowl of dwindling chocolate chips out of the way, but he didn’t take any for himself.

Bruce had encouraged fruit after all.

Jason took his strawberries and shoved the bowl back towards Tim.

“You can have more.” And it was said in that tone that Jason sometimes gained when he was talking about food. A suppressed frustration and desperation always came with the topic for the older boy.

Eat more. Don’t waste. Eat now. Don’t you know there might not be another chance?

Tim had the smallest amount of understanding. His housekeeper had become ill once or twice and there were a few weeks when nobody checked on him. A few weeks when the cupboards in Drake Manor were nearly bare and Tim had gone searching for easy recipes that he could make with dried pasta, soy sauce and a potato.

The final product had not been particularly appetizing.

He finished his oatmeal quickly before Jason had time to think a lot about how much Tim was or wasn’t eating.

It was his eagerness to escape and the beginning of a growth spurt that caused him to trip over his own feet on his way to the kitchen.

The bowl flew from his hands.

It landed beyond any carpeted surface and smashed into the hardwood floor.

On his knees, he watched the pieces scatter. Past the point of being repaired easily. The pieces were too small and there was no hiding what had happened and god, he had never broken anything here. It had happened so fast. He began to scramble forward, but he heard Bruce’s chair legs scraping against the floor.

Tim’s hand came up on reflex, settling between his face and Bruce’s stare.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The apologies slipped out desperately. “I’ll clean it up. I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

Alfred was there then, coming into his periphery.

“It is alright, Master Tim. It’s not the first time I’ve cleaned up a wayward bowl.”

“I can replace it,” Tim blurted. Bruce paid for everything, but Tim had some money in a stash under the bed. “There is no need.” Alfred said calmly. Tim could feel his eyes stinging and his face heating up. Why wouldn’t they let him fix it? Why?

“Tim,” Bruce’s voice rumbled, “are you hurt?”

And Tim hadn’t meant to flinch at being addressed by the man, but he didn’t seem to be able to control anything in that moment.

“No, sir,” Tim answered automatically.

He heard Bruce sigh and he knew he must be annoying the man greatly. Disrupting his breakfast. Making a scene.

“Jay,” Bruce’s tone was softer now.

“Got it.”

Tim’s view was filled by his foster brother. The bowl was put of sight, there was only Jason, ducking his head with a careful expression. A Robin kind of expression.

“You can put your arm down. Nobody’s coming near you. Promise.”

He hadn’t realized he still had it up. Slowly, Tim lowered his hand. He wiped quickly at his eyes instead, embarrassed by the moisture there.

“Sorry,” Tim mumbled. Jason’s nose wrinkled at the apology, but he didn’t remark on it.

“Let’s go sit on the couch, okay?”

Tim let Jason haul him off the floor. He didn’t dare look up at anyone else. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointment on their faces. He had behaved badly. Breaking a bowl and then crying over it. His parents would have been furious and embarrassed by him.

Tim realized Jason had him by the wrist and he shut his eyes tight, letting the other boy lead him away.

When Tim opened his eyes, he was sitting on the softest couch, warm fingers pressing against his pulse. His heart was jumping in his chest. Could Jason feel it?

“Breathe with me, okay?” Jason’s voice was pitched low, and he took a deep, exaggerated breath.

Tim sucked in air like someone who was suffocating. Had he not been breathing?

“Good, yeah,” Jason encouraged.

An exhale, another inhale.

“Here,” Jason pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around Tim’s shoulders.

“Feel that?” He asked as he turned Tim’s hand and rested it atop the fabric. “Bruce always buys the softest blankets he can find.”

One moment, Tim was feeling the fabric and the next, clarity was dawning on him.

“Jason,” he whispered, “your food. Your breakfast. You left it.” Food was important to the other boy. Tim knew that at least. “You need to eat. It’s going to get cold and-”

“It’s not going anywhere, Tim.” Jason’s mouth twitched. “It’s not going anywhere,” he repeated more quietly.

“I’m okay,” Tim whispered. “You can go.” He pulled his hand away from Jason and sat up straighter.

Jason sighed. “No, it’s fine- Dick!” he turned and shouted over his shoulder. “You’re not doing anything. Bring me my oatmeal!”

There were plenty of times when the older boys teased each other and purposefully annoyed one another, but there were other times when they absolutely listened, and all the joking was put aside. Tim couldn’t always tell the difference between teasing and fighting.

Dick briskly walked into the room carrying the bowl in one hand and offering it to Jason ike he was a waiter.

“Your food, good sir.”

As soon as Jason grabbed the bowl, Dick flipped himself onto the couch, landing neatly on Tim’s other side. “You okay, Timmy?” He asked, one arm already wrapping around Tim’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Tim responded. “I can clean it up. I didn’t mean to-” freak out? “-get upset.”

He didn’t understand why he had gotten so upset in the first place. It seemed ridiculous now; wedged between his two new brothers, wrapped in a soft, warm blanket.

Dick was giving him a strange look. He opened his mouth and then shut it with a shake of his head. “It’s okay, the adults are taking care of it.” He grabbed the nearby TV remote. “Let’s watch something.”

“You’re an adult.” Jason muttered. “Hey, not the British Bake Off, I don’t want to hear you complaining about the food.”

“Home renovations shows it is,” Dick flipped to the appropriate channel and tossed the remote into Tim’s lap. Tim made no move to pick it up, but he balanced it on his knee long after the first set of credits began to roll.

He heard Bruce walk up behind them and he tensed, waiting for the lecture. Instead, he caught sight of Bruce’s hand moving so slowly in his peripheral vision. It rested atop Dick’s hair and his fingers combed through the errant strands there.

A little more quickly now, Bruce moved to Jason and ruffled his hair. Jason grinned at the action and Tim blinked at the movement, but he did not flinch. Bruce took in a deep breath before very lightly stroking the top of Tim’s head. The touch was gone in an instant and when Bruce spoke, his voice was softer than usual.

“You’re okay,” he muttered before moving off again. Once Bruce was out of the room, Dick made a soft humming sound. Tim turned and saw a small smile on his face.

“He’s going to go brood for a bit.”

“Brood?” Tim frowned. That was bad, right?

“Yeah, he wants to talk to you. He’s going to go figure out what to say.”

“Oh,” Tim’s stomach sank. So the lecture would be later. Jason elbowed him.

“It’s not going to be bad, Timmers. He’s not mad or anything. I promise.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. If Bruce wasn’t angry, then why did he want to talk later? It didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t want to disagree with anyone. Frowning, he sunk down into the couch and let Dick pat his head.

“You’re okay,” Dick whispered, almost too quiet to hear.

Tim took a deep breath and let it go.

“Is it alright if I come in?”

Tim was sitting on his bed, trying to be calm and quiet. He blinked at Bruce standing in his open doorway. It was his house, why would he ask?

“Yes.” Tim was careful not to say it like a question.

Bruce gave him a strange look.

“You sure, bud?” His gaze flicked to Tim’s hands anxiously twisting the blanket between his fingers. Tim pointedly dropped the fabric.

“Yes,” he repeated. Bruce approached, each step slower than the next, until he was only a few feet from the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Tim blinked. “Fine.”

Bruce hummed. “Alright if I sit?” He motioned to the edge of the mattress.

Again. This was Bruce’s house. The man paid the bills. Why was he asking? Tim nodded anyway. Bruce moved to sit slowly, keeping his hands at his side and his eyes on Tim.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier-”

“I can pay for it,” The words were out of Tim's mouth before he could stop them.

“You don’t need to.” Bruce’s response was quick, as though he had been prepared for it. “We break dishes all the time. Dick accidentally knocked over an entire cabinet of them when he was younger. I’m not worried about the bowl.” Bruce leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I was worried about you.”

Tim frowned. He was fine, he-

“You seemed upset downstairs.” Bruce swallowed. “So I wanted to tell you first that you’re not in trouble with anyone. You’re never going to be in trouble for an accident, like dropping a bowl. Second, you called me ‘sir’ earlier, you never need to call me that. I prefer you wouldn’t, actually. And third,” Bruce lay his hands open on the bed, “I’m never going to hit you.”

Tim grimaced at the words. He knew he had behaved irrationally earlier. Overreacting again, his parents would say. It’s not like his parents spent all their time beating him.

Something like that only happened if he broke any of the rules and he was usually really good at following the rules. The bruises he got when they were home, the bruises Jason noticed at school and wouldn’t leave him alone about… those were out of the ordinary. It just happened because his parents were gone a lot and when they finally made it home, they were tired and Tim was just in the way.

“I’m sorry,” because it was all he could think to say. Bruce smiled. It was small, with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“We’re going to keep working on things, alright?” Bruce inched forward but didn’t make any move to actually touch him.

Tim nodded. It was going to be alright. This was Bruce’s house and he would do his best to follow every rule and do anything the man asked of him.

He was going to do better.

The sound of a door slamming resounded through Tim’s room. Abruptly, as if he was having some kind of spasm, Tim stood from his chair and faced the open door.

He listened intently to the house.

There was no yelling, no raised, angry voices. So the door had been slammed by accident, not due to a fight.

He had heard stories from Dick and Jason about arguments they’d had with Bruce. About prolonged silent treatments and a few choice words said from all involved.

With halting steps, Tim approached his door.

Not a fight. Not a fight.

But he had been wrong in the past.

A harshly shut door was usually the sign he should leave his house. He knew, if he remained, it was only a matter of time before one of his irate parents found him and saw some incompetence in him. He had always wanted to shut his door, hide away from them. But if his mother was the one upset, she always had an issue with him closing the door to his room.

On good days, she would snap it open and leave it ajar, claiming his room was stuffy and he was being antisocial. On the bad days, she would yell, telling him he couldn’t hide away in his room, being unproductive. His mother once presented a doorstopper to him as part of a birthday gift since he had a “hard time” keeping his door open. He never understood what she thought he was doing. He just liked it when his surroundings were quieter sometimes.

Still, it was against the rules to close the door.

Neither Bruce nor Alfred had said anything about doors being open or shut, but he tried to follow the rules he brought with him.

His fingers twitched around the knob, he took a deep breath and pushed the door closed most of the way, stopping it right before it tapped the door jam. A compromise, Tim thought. Sighing, he turned to his desk and went back to work.

The rest of the afternoon was passing by relatively peacefully, when the sound of music cut through the silence and drifted down the hallway. Jason? No, it was bright and fast paced. Dick must have been playing something. Tim thought he heard a distant thumping sound and then he definitely heard Jason yelling.

“Turn that off, asshole!”

“Language!” Dick proclaimed.

Fighting? Not Fighting?

Tim frowned. Dick’s music became noticeably louder.

“Oh for- Close your door, dickhead!”

“Boys,” A deeper voice suddenly intoned.

Oh. Oh shit. That was Bruce. And he sounded irritated. Tim placed one hand on his desk, bracing himself for something.

He heard the deeper timbre carry on like rolling gravel and he couldn’t discern the words, but it was definitely not a happy tone.

Tim rose from his chair, took two steps to his door and then froze. Close the door or open it wider to avoid being seen as impudent (as his mother had said once)?

His feet carried him to the door, but he couldn’t convince his arm to reach for the handle. Dick’s music had ended, and all the voices had gone quiet. He thought he might be ready to reach for the doorknob when he heard heavy footsteps treading on the hallway carpet. Thudding right towards his door at the end of the hall. In a panic, Tim spun around, forgetting to do anything at all with the door, he rushed back to his desk, planning on acting like he had just been studying and not about to break any of the house rules.

His plan went awry when he tripped over his own two stupid, dumb feet. Rushing like he was, his body didn’t get the memo to attempt to right himself and he faceplanted into the plush carpet.

Beneath the dull pain, all he could think was that he had now stupidly tripped twice in this house.

There was a knock against his doorframe.

“Tim?” Bruce’s tone wasn’t the same as a few moments ago, but that didn’t mean anything. Adults could use a soft voice and still be angry. He knew the moment Bruce saw him on the floor, because he heard the door swing open the rest of the way and the quick inhalation of breath before heavy footsteps rushed forward. “Tim? What happened? Are you hurt?”

Tim managed to unfreeze enough to prop himself up on his elbows and shake his head.

“Easy, go slow. Are you dizzy?”

Bruce was crouched down, nearly lying on the floor, trying to be at Tim’s eye level.

“Just tripped,” Tim admitted, face burning.

“Oh,” Bruce sounded relieved. There was a moment of quiet as Tim sat back and Bruce shifted away, giving him space. He rubbed at his chin, chasing away the stinging pain from hitting the floor. Knowing Bruce was studying him, unable to meet the man’s eye, he felt stuck there on the soft carpet.

“When Jason and Dick had growth spurts,” Bruce whispered, like he was sharing a secret. “They both went through a phase where they tripped or ran into things on accident all the time. Dick was so upset with himself. I don’t think he’d ever been anything but graceful in all his life.” Bruce smiled. “It took a little getting used to, but they adjusted.”

Tim frowned and didn’t respond. Bruce crossed his legs and leaned forward.

“Do you want to talk about why you’re upset?”

“I’m not,” Tim whispered, matching Bruce’s tone.

“Alright,” Bruce set his hands, palm up on his knees, “is it okay if I sit here with you for a little while?”

Tim crossed his own legs and nodded.

They sat together and they breathed for several long moments. Tim was just beginning to feel a little less like his feet would betray him if he tried to stand when a new voice shouted from the doorway.

“Bruce! What did you do? Is he crying? Are you making him cry?”

“I’m not crying!” Tim argued, mortified, while Bruce lifted up his hands in a display of his innocence.

“Honestly, B, if you’re just going to upset him…”

“He didn’t do anything, I- I tripped.”

“Oh.” Jason smiled and sidled into the room, plopping down on the floor and throwing an arm around Tim’s shoulders. “You okay now, Timmers?”

Tim wrinkled his nose at the nickname, but he nodded. Bruce stood, groaning when his knees made a popping sound.

“Dinner in a few hours. Jason, remember what we talked about.”

The older boy waved him off. “Yeah, I know.”

Bruce left the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

“What did you talk about?” Tim couldn’t help his curiosity. Jason scratched the back of his head and gave a nervous laugh.

“Ah, that. Well, Dick and I argue a lot over stupid things and sometimes we kind of forget other people are around. We kind of sound like assholes if you’re not used to it. And, y’know, we wouldn’t want you to think we’re assholes.” Jason tilted his head in thought. “It was kind of shitty of us to start yelling when you were in here studying. The walls are pretty good at canceling out sound, but they’re not that good.” Jason glanced around the room. “And if your door is open, sound carries down the hall. You should close it. Do you have headphones? I have some extra.”

It was said so casually. Jason was going on about using earbuds versus different headphones, but Tim felt his heart and brain stutter.

“I can close it? It’s okay?” Tim leaned forward, eyes wide. Jason’s eyes darted left and right, backtracking through what he had said.

“You mean the door? Yeah, you can close it. Nobody is going to stop you.”

Tim felt a lump rise in his throat.

“It’s not a rule to keep them open?”

Jason went from looking bemused to something darker really fast.

“No. We don’t have to keep them open. That would be a shitty rule. I wouldn’t have stayed if anyone had told me that was a rule.”

Tim was caught between relief and worry over Jason’s tone and expression.

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispered. Jason’s face immediately softened, but he didn’t smile again.

“No worries, man.” He ruffled Tim’s hair as he stood up from the floor. He then offered his hand and pulled Tim up in one swift motion. “You good? I need to go ask Bruce something.”

“I’m good.” Tim smoothed down his shirt.

“Great,” he muttered, “I’ll see you later.” The older boy then left without looking back.

But with a soft click, Jason shut the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Tim stared unblinking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.  

He had been going about his morning routine, getting ready to head down for a full Sunday breakfast, when his comb snagged in a stubborn tangle at the back of his head. He had been working through it, running his fingers through the back of his hair when it occurred to him.

He had never let his hair get this long before.

He supposed he had been distracted. Becoming the newest resident at Wayne Manor and ungratefully spitting in his parents’ faces the last few months had caused some things to slip his mind.

Tim bit his lip as he tucked strands behind his ear.

He would have never let his parents see his hair so unruly. If they had ever returned from a trip to find his appearance in such disarray- he wouldn’t have heard the end of it. There would have been a lecture and… anger.

What message are you sending to the world? You are always a representative of this family and we expect you not to embarrass us. Look at me-

Tim blinked.

They didn’t even need to be around for him to actually get the lecture apparently. Tim tucked his hair behind his ears again, smoothing down any stray strands.

Bruce wasn’t like that. Hadn’t said anything about it since he’d known him.

But that was before. Before Tim was living in the house. No longer a guest, but a foster placement well on his way to becoming adopted, if Jason was to be believed.

The rules had to be different now. Guests and residents of the home have different rules. Tim knew that had to be true at least. Bruce had recently sat with him at the table and very calmly discussed rules of the house. Tim suspected Jason had said something to prompt the discussion. Bruce had claimed that the only rule he really had to insist on was that Tim didn’t try to go down to the cave alone. Everything else was just about trying to be considerate of other members of the house. He had been told there was a swear jar, but Bruce had never heard Tim even say anything close to swearing, so the man didn’t seem that concerned about it. But Tim knew there were always other rules that nobody talked about until he was getting in trouble, so he needed to figure them out on his own.

On the day of the bowl incident, Bruce had commented on Dick’s hair. He mentioned how long it was getting and Dick had laughed, but Bruce didn’t say anything else about it. Dick was basically an adult though and not living in the house. So, Bruce couldn’t outright say anything against it, could he? He would have to pass his message along in a more passive way.

So the rule of the house was to keep his hair short. It had to be. Bruce’s hair was short. Jason’s wasn’t that long. He had been stupid not to worry about it sooner. Bruce had not become angry at him for anything yet and this could be what brought on scalding remarks and expressed disappointment.

Tim tore the skin from his bottom lip between his teeth.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t handle the disappointment from Bruce, he had already disappointed too many people lately. He needed to fix it.

Heart strangely pounding, Tim exited his bathroom and flew to his desk, fumbling with the scissors kept in the drawer there, he clutched them close and ran back to the mirror above his kitchen sink. Sometimes they checked on him. He needed to fix it before they came knocking at his door.

Tim’s hands shook as he forced his fingers to open and close the scissors a few times before bringing them up to his bangs.

Snip. Snip.

Dark hair fell to the floor.

“Tim!” Jason shouted as he barreled into the other boy’s room. Bruce and Alfred kept reminding him to knock, but he honestly kept forgetting and Tim didn’t seem to care as long as Jason announced his presence before opening the door. Jason had expected to see him at his desk or sitting on the bed, watching videos on his phone. He hadn’t expected to see the bundled up lump on the bed, not moving or even reacting to his presence. “Are you still asleep? Breakfast is going to be ready soon.”

There was no sign that Tim heard Jason. In fact, the lump seemed to curl up smaller. Undeterred, Jason threw himself down on the bed beside his newest brother. Dick wasn’t the only annoying older brother in the family after all.

“Hey, come on, we’ll play Mario Kart before breakfast.”

The lump did not move. Jason’s mind backtracked through his actions. Tim usually jumped at the chance to hang out. Though lately, he had seemed a bit off. More distant. Bruce had told him to give Time space if he needed it, but the kid never refused to hang out before. So.

“Are you sick?” He guessed. The lump did move this time, but it was curling away from him. And that’s when Jason heard it. A definite sniffle.

“What is it? What happened?” Jason's mind went through the possibilities. It wasn’t a sick sniffle, it was a definite sad noise. Did he have a nightmare? Did something happen with his parents? They never tried to contact him before. Jason was pretty sure any phone call legally would have needed to be supervised anyway.

He’d had enough. Jason pulled the blanket away, and Tim only fought him a moment to keep himself hidden.

Tim was too distracted and caught up in his own head to keep Jason from revealing his mistake, revealing what he had done in the midst of some kind of irrational, desperate fit. Tim hadn’t been aware of it all earlier. He had blinked in the mirror a few times and then his hair was just gone in some places. A bit of red streaked across his knuckles is what had gotten him to finally come back to himself and by then he had destroyed his hair.  

“Oh,” Jason said. That was it. He went silent and Tim wouldn’t look, but he knew the older boy had to be utterly shocked. Because why the hell would Tim take scissors to his hair and cut it all away? Tim felt his eyes burning and he blinked, willing his expression to stay something close to neutral. Something that didn’t make him look deranged and emotional. After too long a moment of silence, he opened his mouth to demand that Jason say something. Anything. To his horror, a sob escaped his throat. And in an infantile display, he pulled the blanket up over his head once more.

“Oh,” Jason tried again. “Hey, it’s not- it’s not that bad. I can-well, no, not me- Bru- Alfred, can fix it.”

Another sob forced its way up his throat and he slammed his hand over his mouth, digging his fingers into his cheek, willing himself to be silent. He sounded like he was being strangled and it was only that troubling noise that caused Jason to pull the blanket back, revealing his hair once more, sheared off way too close in some places and too long in the back where Tim couldn’t reach properly. 

“Breathe, okay?” Jason settled his arm across him, adding extra pressure. “Just breathe.”

Tim shuddered out more shaking breaths that ended in muffled sobs. Slowly, Jason reached up and tapped his fingers against the back of Tim’s hand, encouraging him to stop trying to smother himself. Tim’s palm lifted, but strayed to over his eyes instead, hiding his face away. Jason went still and breathed deeply, hoping Tim would match him. The sobs soon tapered off and Jason watched his brother’s breathing even out.

Jason wouldn’t ask why. Tim was smart, polite to a fault, reserved and sometimes every fiber of Tim’s being was screaming for something. Something to happen. Something to be done. For someone to help. But it didn’t seem like Tim was even aware of it.

It’s what had drawn Jason to Tim in the first place. He had seen him at school. With circles under his eyes and a mask of his own, hiding behind a fake smile and carefully chosen words. But Jason saw through it. He saw the kid that needed help. Even if he would never ask for it.

Jason had hoped that once he was officially living in the manor and Bruce was legally fostering him, that things might change.

But Tim still wore a mask. And underneath it all, Tim was drowning.  

“Once,” Jason’s voice caught unexpectedly. He cleared his throat and started again. “Once, after I moved here, Bruce gave me some new shoes and I threw them out the window.” He scoffed at the memory. “The shoes I had with me were worn out. I needed new ones, but I just…” Jason shrugged and flipped his palm over in front of Tim’s face. “Sometimes,” another deep breath, “everything is a lot.”

Tim let out a breath of air and cleared his throat. “What did Bruce do?” He whispered, before he could stop himself. Jason let out a short laugh.

“Nothing.”

Tim turned slightly, trying to catch Jason’s eyes. “Nothing?”

Jason scooted back, giving Tim room to turn and fully face him now. “He didn’t say anything, I mean. He just went out, dug the shoes out of the snow and left them by the backdoor. And he didn’t say another thing about it. The next time I was going out and I needed shoes, I put them on and we didn’t talk about it again.” Jason’s eyes lingered on a smear of red near Tim’s hairline. Did the boy even know he had dried blood on his face?

“He didn’t- you didn’t get in trouble?”

“No,” Jason shrugged, he averted his eyes, trying not to stare too long. “The only thing that happened was that Alfred told me a story about little Bruce destroying nearly all of his mom’s favorite flowers in the garden after she died. He said Bruce never could give him a reason for it.” Jason rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “But after a while, him and Alfred planted new flowers and everything was fine again.”

“I don’t think it’s the same.” Tim dared to brush his fingertips over his ears and into the shortened strands near his temple.

No, shit. Jason wanted to say, but he didn’t. Because Tim’s emotions, Tim’s frustration, fear and anger was all screwed up and directed towards himself. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t direct it outward. Jason could see him tearing himself apart. He didn’t want to think about Tim with scissors, acting without thinking…

“I know it’s not the same,” Jason said instead. “But maybe, we can still help you fix it? If you want?”

Tim’s chin honest to god wobbled and Jason couldn’t get the comforting words out before the boy was crying again. He pushed his forehead into Jason’s shoulder and sobbed hard. Jason reached up and patted his poor hair.

“You’re okay, Timmy.” Jason finally caught sight of the neat cut at the top of his ear. That explained the blood then.

“I liked my hair!” The boy admitted loudly into Jason’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I thought so.” Jason picked at the loose strands. He really had made a mess of it.

“But I couldn’t- I couldn’t… and I was scared-stupid. I was stupid.”

Jason’s hand went still.

“Scared of what?” Jason whispered. Lowering his voice like he did when he was Robin and talking to a lost kid. Murmuring like he was sneaking around gathering intel and he couldn’t get caught.

“I didn’t want Bruce to be mad,” Tim finally muttered, voice nearly lost in Jason’s shoulder.

There it was. Jason had a hard time wrapping his head around it, but there it was.

Jason patted Tim’s arm, gaining his attention. The boy’s crying quieted at least.

“Bruce does not give two shits what your hair looks like.” Jason sat up, determined to look the kid in the eye and get this message across. Tim didn’t meet his gaze, but he wiped at drying tears with the blanket’s edge.

“He doesn’t?” Tim’s eyes darted back and forth quickly, like he was trying to figure out some secret.

“No, man.”

“But Dick’s hair. He said Dick’s hair was getting long.” Tim sat up and finally met Jason’s eye.

“Uh, yeah? Because it is?”

“Isn’t he mad about it?”

Jason laughed. “No, if anything, the old man is jealous. He used to have long hair when he was in college. But he can’t grow it like that anymore. It’s too thin now and he would look like a dipshit.”

Tim looked horrified at the description. “Like a- he looks like a what?”

It made Jason laugh harder.

“Just really bad, like a complete asshole,” he continued with a grin.

“Oh.” Tim looked like he was stuck between wanting to laugh or being mortified on Bruce’s behalf.

“Just a complete douchebag,” Jason added. Tim let out a gust of air that was closer to a giggle than a sob, so that was a win. Jason smiled and let the quiet pass over them for a moment. He gave Tim’s sleeve a tug to get his attention.

“You didn’t look bad with long hair, Tim. And even if Bruce didn’t like it, you’re well within your right to tell him to go to hell.”

The younger boy’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“I wouldn’t do that!” Tim declared.

Oh, give it time, Jason thought as he snorted at Tim’s indignation.

“He doesn’t care about my hair?” Tim whispered, tugging at the longer strands in the back.

“No, well- I mean, he’s going to care right now, because it looks like you maybe… need some help with it, but he doesn’t care if you grow it out.”

“Dad didn’t like it long,” Tim whispered. “Neither did mom.”

Jason hummed softly. Tim had a distant look, like he had maybe slipped away a bit. Jason had seen him do that before, but not in a few weeks. He had thought his new brother was happy here. But maybe-

“Dad would pull it. If I let it get too long.”

Jason was holding his breath. Tim never talked about details with him. It had always been vague reactions to things and finger shaped bruises on the kid’s arms that told Jason what was going on before Tim came to live with Bruce.

“Sorry,” Tim whispered, leaning forward and pressing his face into Jason’s shoulder again.

“Don’t apologize,” He cleared his throat. “Your parents don’t get a say in shit now. They legally don’t get a say. And I promise, I promise that Bruce doesn’t care if you grow it out or not. Okay?”

Tim nodded, but didn’t say anymore.

Tim had made it to his open door before he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Bruce is going to see,” Tim muttered as he moved to tuck too short strands behind his ear. Jason sighed. Even though they had been over this, Tim could not stop himself from trying to hide what he had done.

No amount of sleeve tugging could get the younger boy to take another step. Tim just shook his head and stared down at his feet, avoiding Jason’s gaze.

“I’ll be right back,” Jason suddenly declared and then ran down the hall to his own room. Tim barely had time to think about what his brother could be doing when the older boy came sprinting back with a lump of red fabric in one hand. Before he could ask what was happening, Jason was shoving a knitted beanie over Tim’s hair and just past the tips of his ears.

“There.” Jason patted the top of Tim’s head. “Perfect.”

Jason’s favorite beanie.

Tim ran his fingers over the soft knitting. His first reaction was to argue, but when he caught his brother’s eyes, he knew Jason wouldn’t like it.

“Thank you,” he whispered instead.

They found Dick in the hallway and before their oldest brother could comment, Jason held up one hand and shook his head. Dick’s mouth clamped shut, obviously catching on that something was going on. Tim ducked his head behind Jason’s shoulder and felt his face turn red. They then moved down the stairs and Dick did not move to follow them.

Alfred was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The man heard them step into the room and he offered them both a ‘good morning’ without turning around.

“Need your help,” Jason announced in lieu of a greeting. Alfred turned the stove off and spun around to face them. Calm but efficient. He studied them both, taking in Jason holding fast to Tim’s sleeve and the younger boy’s red eyes and face that suggested he had been crying.

“Do you want to show him?” Jason asked, tugging Tim’s sleeve. Slowly, Tim’s hand crept up to the beanie he was wearing and he pulled it back, revealing sheared bangs. Alfred kept his face carefully neutral.

Tim tried to stammer out an explanation, but he couldn’t get the words out, he couldn’t explain it.

“A-a-accident,” He finally forced out.

“Alright, lad. Alright Master Tim,” he washed his hands at the sink. “Have a seat here and we will have a proper look.”

Jason pulled a stool over from the breakfast bar and Tim climbed up onto it. Jason was still holding onto his sleeve when Tim pulled the beanie off. The cool air hit his neck, giving him goosebumps. Tim shut his eyes against the sensation, against Alfred’s perception, against his latest mistake.

The older man tutted once, but was quiet during his inspection. Eventually, he leaned back and patted Tim’s knee.

“Master Jason, if you would retrieve the first aid kit from the foyer. That one was most recently restocked. Also, grab the hair trimming supplies from the downstairs bathroom.”

“On it!” Jason gave Tim’s sleeve a pointed tug, before he took off.

“Master Tim, I will see to your ear first and then we can work on trimming the rest of your hair. Alright?”

“My ear?” Tim frowned.

“My boy,” Alfred slowly brought his hand up and motioned to his right ear. “You have a small cut on your ear. Nothing serious, but I would like to clean it.”

“Oh. Right.” Tim felt embarrassment color his cheeks. He remembered a streak of red on his fingers, but he hadn’t figured out where it was coming from, he had just set the scissors down and then hid under his covers.

Alfred only hummed at his response.

“Got it!” Jason called as he entered the kitchen, supplies held above his head.

“Excellent. Put it here on the counter and then if you’d like, you can start the French toast so we can have breakfast when we are done.”

“Yeah, on it!” With a new mission, Jason approached the oven with determination and began turning knobs, adjusting the temperature.

Tim watched him work, distracted by how comfortable his brother looked. Jason had mentioned that he liked to help Alfred in the kitchen, but Tim had not seen it yet.

Alfred described what he was doing the whole time, warning Tim when something might sting or be uncomfortable. It didn’t really hurt though. After Alfred saw to his ear, wrapped a towel around his shoulders and began trimming his hair, Tim felt like he was floating a bit. He made a noise when he was pretty sure Alfred was asking him a question, but no other sound escaped him.

“I will try my best to keep it as long as possible,” Alfred assured him. Tim bit his lip and shifted in his seat.

“Tim,” Jason suddenly spoke up, breaking the measured silence. “Tell Alfred about that paper you wrote for English. The one you had me read through. You got a good grade on it, yeah?”

Tim blinked. “The one about- about skateboarding?” Trying not to move and distract Alfred from his work, Tim blinked up at the man.

Alfred smiled and brushed loose strands from his forehead. “I would love to hear about your writing.”

Tim released his bottom lip from between his teeth. “It was about the history of skateboarding. I got an A.”

“Well done. Did you enjoy writing it?”

“Yeah,” Tim breathed out. “I don’t always like writing, but it was interesting. The teacher wanted us to write about something that happened in history that had an impact on us. Most kids did, like, a war or the signing of the Declaration of Independence. I think she was looking for something more like that, but I wrote about skateboarding instead.”

“Because that had a personal impact on you. I think that is an interesting topic. Very refreshing. She enjoyed reading it?”

Tim nodded and froze, remembering he was supposed to be trying to sit still. Alfred smiled. “You’re fine, my boy.” He smoothed the towel around Tim’s shoulders. “I would love to hear more about it. I’m afraid my skateboarding knowledge is lacking.”

Alfred maneuvered behind Tim and began trimming his hair in the back. He sounded sincere. Even though Tim hadn’t really known an adult to really want to hear about skateboarding.

“Surfers started it in California,” Tim hesitated, but Alfred hummed in encouragement and Jason was sneaking glances at him between pulling French toast from a pan. “And it got really popular during a drought, when people had to drain their pools.”

Alfred hummed again and a grin spread on Jason’s face. It turned out it was all the encouragement he needed to really open his mouth and let everything he had learned come pouring out.

He talked long after the scissors were put away and the hair trimmer was turned off.

Alfred was helping him down from the stool and brushing loose strands from his shoulders before he realized he was done.

“Here,” Jason held out his phone, camera set up to take a selfie. “Have a look.”

Tim stared back at his image. Alfred had been true to his word, he had kept it as long as possible while still making sure it was even, but it was much shorter now.

“It looks alright, not bad at all,” Jason said quickly. Tim took a deep breath. Jason was right. It didn’t look bad, different, but not bad. Remembering himself, Tim turned to Alfred.

“Thank you, Alfred.” Tim felt some of his embarrassment from before creep in. “And I’m sorry, sorry about interrupting your cooking and-”

Alfred held out his hand. “Nothing to worry about. I am happy to help. You just let me know when you want it trimmed again.”

Bruce bustled into the kitchen then and Tim froze, waiting for a reaction. But Bruce only offered him a smile.

Wait.

Had the man been standing outside the kitchen, listening??

“Good morning!” Bruce greeted.

“No!” Jason waved a spatula at him. “I’m almost done with these and you’re going to mess them up!”

“I was just getting a drink,” Bruce held up his hands.

“Nope. Get out, old man. Alfred can bring you a drink at the table.”

“Morning,” Tim said softly. Bruce smiled again at him on his way out.

“Good morning, Tim.”

“Go!” Jason cried.

“I’m going!” Bruce laughed as he strode out of the room.

Tim found his way to Jason’s side, not trying to be in the way, but seeking his brother’s attention. He set the beanie down on the counter.  

“You can have this back,” he mumbled.

Jason shrugged. “Nah, you can wear it if you start feeling weird again.”

“I can’t wear it at the table,” Tim answered with a frown. Jason scoffed.

“Uh, yeah, you can actually.” Jason turned to Alfred who was quietly sweeping hair from the floor. “He can wear a beanie at the table, right?”

“If that allows him to be more comfortable, then yes, Master Tim can wear a beanie at the table.”

“See? It’s fine.” Jason flipped off the burner on the stove, grabbed the beanie and pushed it at Tim until the younger boy took it. “You can hold onto it just in case, alright?”

Tim nodded and squeezed it in his hands, pressing the soft knitting against his fingers.

“Thank you,” Tim whispered. Jason slung an arm around his shoulder.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m supposed to take care of you.” Jason moved them into the hallway and saw Dick at the other end. “Afterall!” Jason shouted, “I am the best big brother in this house!”

“Hey!” Dick yelled, clearly offended.

Tim laughed. The sound of it made both his brothers beam.

And when Dick pulled him into a hug and ruffled his short hair, Tim found himself leaning into the touch.

He was getting used to having older brothers.

“Tim!” Jason whined. “It’s Friday! Why are you doing homework?”

Tim glanced up from his desk and back at his notes. Why wouldn’t he be doing homework? The school year was about to end, they had final projects due.

“Do you not have homework?” Tim tilted his head to the side. Jason crossed his arms and leaned against Tim’s doorway.

“I have Saturday and Sunday for that. Friday is for games and movies.”

It was true that Tim had noticed they played video games and watched movies every Friday night. But he didn’t know it was mandatory.

“And it’s your turn to pick the game or movie.” Jason was staring at him, boring a hole in him with his pointed look. Tim was not going to pick. Bruce was always around these nights and Tim could not imagine picking a game and then playing it in front of an adult. He went along with it when Jason or Dick started it, but he wasn’t going to be the one to instigate.

Nothing good had ever come from having pointless fun in front of adults.

He had always taken special care that his parents never actually saw him playing the game systems they bought him. He figured out early that they spent their money on him freely, but they did not expect to have to witness their son wasting his time playing games or watching mindless movies. His mother used to get that pinched look when she saw him doing nothing and when the time came that Timothy hadn’t met their expectations or said he was tired, his free time was used against him.

“You have time to play games, but not to study. No wonder your grades are suffering.”

“Well, if you didn’t spend all your time playing games, maybe you wouldn’t be so tired.”

He learned quickly not to play anything in front of them. Skateboarding he could get away with if he was using it to get from one point to another. That was really it though.

“Uh,” Tim muttered, when he realized Jason was waiting on some kind of answer. “You can have my turn. I don’t care.”

He had expected Jason to shrug it off, he hadn’t expected his gaze to sharpen.

“I know you care. You used to talk to me about shows and movies all the time.”

Did he? Tim thought back to when he was just a guest. A guest who didn’t have to necessarily follow all of the rules.

Tim shrugged. “I don’t mind what you pick.” Just leave him out of it. Jason pursed his lips.

“Bruce is going out tonight. It’s just going to be three of us.”

Tim blinked. Well, if that was the case…

“Maybe we can play Smash Bros?”

Jason jumped and pointed, “I knew it!”

Tim flinched in his seat.

“Sorry, Timmers.” Jason lowered his voice. “But I knew you wanted a turn to pick. Dude,” Jason crossed the room and sat on the edge of Tim’s bed. “I know Bruce can be kind of intimidating, but he’s really okay. And Alfred doesn’t really care what we do as long as we aren’t actively destroying the house.”

Tim cast his eyes away, something like shame making his face heat up. Even if it wasn’t an actual rule in the house, adults always had hidden rules and why didn't Jason get that?

And he just couldn’t take the thought of Bruce yelling at him and well, the man had promised he wouldn’t hit Tim.

But his father had promised that once.

“Come here, for god’s sake, stop acting like that. I swear I’m not going to hurt you.”

If adults were angry enough, their promises didn’t mean anything.

And if Tim broke enough rules, well, he wasn’t Bruce’s actual kid, was he? Not adopted. An easy foster placement. And since Tim knew their secret, the man would want to keep him close. But if he messed up enough, what was keeping the man from kicking him out? What was stopping him from discarding him to the Gotham foster system?

“Tim?”

Tim blinked in surprise, Jason bringing him back to the present. By the look of concern on his friend’s face, Tim must have been quiet for too long.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to push it.” Jason scratched the back of his head. “B says I need to be more patient, but I’m still working on that. And- and Tim! I just want you to be happy here. You don’t need to be so nervous all the time.”

“I’m not nervous,” the dry denial slipped past his lips.

“Okay, man.” Jason held up his hands. “Whatever you say.”

Tim forced his fingers to stop fidgeting and bit his lip instead.

“Come on,” Jason stood, “I’ll kick your ass at Smash Bros.”

Tim nodded and slowly followed Jason out of the room.

They found Dick prostrate over one of the couches.

“If you’re not playing, then move, Dick.”

“I’ve got a headache,” their oldest brother complained, rolling over and throwing one arm over his face in despair.

“Then go sleep in your room,” Jason turned the TV on.

“Did you get hurt on patrol?” Tim asked quietly, peering over the back of the couch at the afflicted. Dick smiled and let his hand fall away.

“Nah, just an ordinary headache, Timinnie.”

“Drink more water. You’re a bad example for us.” Jason swatted at the boy’s arm. Dick actually looked offended.

“I am a great example! The perfect big brother example.”

Tim couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

Grinning, Dick reached up and ruffled his short hair.

“It’s a good sound, baby bird.”

Before Tim could question it, Dick was sitting up and hoisting himself off the couch. “I’m such a good brother,” he announced, “that I’m going to go get water and I will bring back a variety of drinks and snacks for the movie night.”

“Tim picked Smash Bros.”

“Game night then.”

“We can watch a movie if you want-,” Tim began to compromise.

“Nope, I’m kicking your ass. It’s been decided.” Jason held the game controller above his head.

“The night is young, we can do both if you want!” Dick called as he left for the kitchen.

The system was booting up and Tim found a place on the couch, close to Jason, but not close enough that the other boy could reach over and try to press buttons on his controller.

“It’s okay?” Tim whispered, unsure if he was even heard over the game’s music kicking on.

“All good, Tim. I promise.”

Tim inhaled.

Trust Robin. Trust Jason.  

Tim breathed out.

“You boys okay?”

The voice came from the doorway, spoken in a deep, but gentle tone. Tim jumped anyway. The controller was dropped and immediately swallowed up in the stash of blankets that they had accumulated in the short span of the evening.

“B! You’re back early.” Jason threw himself over the back of the couch. “Your party suck or something?”

Bruce hummed, but didn’t respond otherwise.

“Must have,” Dick chimed in. “It’s only 9.”

“I have casework tonight.” Bruce smiled. “And the party was lacking, yes.”

Tim had shrunk down, trying his best to disappear into the couch cushions.

“You need help tonight?” Dick was already on his feet. “These two aren’t letting me play anyway.”

“You were bitching about a headache,” Jason threw a pillow at Dick’s face. Dick caught it before it could hit its mark.

“You have a headache?” Bruce asked as Dick lobbed the pillow back at Jason.

“It’s all good, Bruce.” He hurried out of the room, avoiding any further pillow attacks. “You worry too much, old man.”

Bruce frowned.

“Jason, Tim, are you both okay for the night?”

Jason waved from the couch. “All good. Go do what you got to do.”

Bruce was gone for several minutes before Jason finally spoke.

“Tim, please breathe, okay?”

The younger boy noisily sucked in a gasp of air. He meant to force out an apology, but he only managed a choking sound. Jason leaned into his side.

“You’re good, man. Everything is good. He wasn’t mad.”

“I know,” Tim choked out. “I believe you, but I don’t know why…” Tim felt tears spring to his eyes and he pulled in a sharp exhale. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he admitted. Jason put an arm around him.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered and Tim wanted to argue because he was literally crying over nothing and it kept happening and-

Something soft was being pulled over his ears. Tim’s hands drifted to the top of his head and he ran his fingers over now familiar knitting.

“Grabbed it from your room.” Jason shrugged. “Had a feeling you could use it.”

Tim blinked up at his brother and was met with a bright smile. “It looks good on you, baby bird.”

Tim threw himself into Jason’s side, his arms wrapping securely around him. “Thank you,” Tim muttered into his brother’s chest. Jason patted the top of the beanie.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jason pressed his cheek to the top of Tim’s head and he breathed deeply. He felt Tim match his deep breaths and Jason smiled. He adored being Tim’s older brother, felt like he had been built for the job.

When Tim’s breaths finally smoothed out, he leaned away from Jason, a thought occurring to the boy.

“Jason?” Tim questioned.

“Yeah?” Jason raised an eyebrow at his brother’s curious expression.

“You don’t go out as much anymore.” It was something Tim had just realized. He had spent the last few years stalking them at night, he knew Robin was usually out more than he was lately. Jason smirked.

“End of the school year. B always wants me to stay in when he knows there are going to be tests coming up.” Jason slouched down into the couch and pulled a blanket over his legs.

“But we’re not studying.”

“Resting is important too, Tim. Bruce says so.”

Tim scowled. He had a good memory and he did not remember there being a lack of Robin last year around the end of school. Also-

“He said video games are important?” Tim raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Playing is important. Laughing is important. C’mon, man. Do you really think he doesn’t want you to have fun?”

“I…” Tim bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

Jason sighed, digging Tim’s controller out from between the cushions.

“Well, he does. I know it’s hard to believe, but he actually does care that we have fun and we’re all relatively happy.”

Tim took the proffered controller.

“Why?” Tim found himself asking without meaning to. Jason swore softly under his breath.

“Because we’re his kids and Bruce gives a shit. Not really another reason.”

That hadn’t really been Tim’s experience. In his nearly 12 years of being on this planet he found that, more than anything, his parents cared that he didn’t reflect badly on them. They cared that he did well in school and in social circles. They did not care if he was having fun.

“His kids,” Tim echoed softly, realization of what Jason said dawning on him.

“Yes? Pretty sure Bruce has counted you as his almost as soon as you stepped foot in here.” And he realized your parents were asshats, Jason doesn’t say.

“Oh,” Tim whispers. “Okay.” He felt his eyes going strangely misty. He knew he was being fostered, started thinking of Dick and Jason as his older brothers almost immediately, but he hadn’t been sure about Bruce; hadn’t thought that the man wanted another son.

Jason bumped into his shoulder.

“You’re stuck with us, okay?”

Tim nodded, wiping hastily at his face.

“Okay.”

Trust Jason.

Chapter Text

When his parents lost custody, he had been allowed into his room to pack up as much as he wanted. But at the time, he had felt like he was trying to breathe underwater and, after he grabbed his camera and his school supplies, his brain felt like it switched off. Moving like a zombie, he emptied drawers at random into one large suitcase.

And then he walked away from his life.

Tim had missed his sock drawer in his haze of packing and Bruce had bought him so many new socks when he realized Tim wasn’t just walking around the manor barefoot because he felt like it.

It was a full week before he unpacked the suitcase completely, unable to believe that they were going to let him stay. In one of the outside pockets of his bag, he found some generic stomach medicine chewables. He figured he had grabbed them when emptying out his desk drawer. Back at home, they were a secret. His mother had found an empty box in the garbage once and had lectured him about healthier eating habits for hours. He tried to listen. He was careful not to eat too much while they were home or even when he was alone.

But sometimes, Tim’s stomach just hurt.

He tucked the tablets into his new desk drawer, hiding them away under some index cards. He had to assume Bruce wouldn’t like him having them. Alfred was always talking about having balanced meals so there was probably a rule against taking stomach medicine here too.

Tim’s stash wasn’t found out, and everything was fine until the end of school testing arrived. He wanted to get good grades. His parents had embedded the importance of grades into him. And even though Bruce said he didn’t care what Tim got, as long as he did his best, Tim could not allow himself to get any low grades.

The last week of school he found himself chewing tablets between gulps of water on his short study breaks. Absently, he picked out chalky residue between his teeth while he looked over history notes.

He was studying for his very last test when he reached into the drawer and came up with an empty wrapper.

“Oh,” Tim breathed. His stomach did an unhelpful flip. He had been so busy studying, he hadn’t realized... Quickly he tried to think of what to do. In the old days, he would have used some of his emergency cash to buy some medicine on his way home from school or before he went out at night. But now…

Bruce had given him a card to use, that he assured him he was putting some kind of weekly allowance on, but Tim hadn’t found a reason to use it. Like his parents, Bruce had access to his purchase history. So he couldn’t use the card. Tim had a little emergency cash in his bedside table and under his bed here, but then the problem was getting to the store. They didn’t let him go anywhere by himself. Apparently, being 12 years old (almost), wasn’t enough to travel alone into the city.

Tim took deep breaths and silently begged his stomach to be calm. Just one more night of studying to go. He didn’t need the medicine. He would just watch what he ate.

He could do this.

Tim couldn’t skip breakfast. The whole family was eating before school and they were pushing fruit at him and scrambled eggs and he couldn’t say no, because they were all looking at him expectantly.

Against his better judgment, he ate. And his stomach rolled all day. He managed to skip lunch and hide in the library so Jason wouldn’t find him and ask him any questions. If Tim had to make some excuse and lie to Jason, he was going to throw up right there. Jason always checked up on him at school and it was really nice sometimes, but it was also smothering beyond belief. So Tim tucked himself away among the aisles, sitting on a stepstool and trying not to be sick over a shelf of gardening books. Whenever someone walked by, he froze and pretended to peruse the section of books.

Jason didn’t make an appearance. And it was a lonely lunch period, but necessary.

Tim hated that part of him liked someone checking on him and another part of him bristled at it. It was probably bad of him to want to be left alone sometimes. Ungrateful, a voice that sounded like his mom’s echoed in his head.  

Tim frowned as he spent his food-free lunch making plans. He would need to find a way to procure some more medicine soon.

Tim realized he was an idiot.

Wayne manor was full of first aid kits. It also had its own medbay down in the cave. Not that he would make the trip down there. He would surely get caught. But there were first aid kits all over the house, and he knew there was a more recently restocked one in the foyer. He just had to wait for an opportune moment.

Luckily, the end of testing arrived, before Tim could put any plan into action and he stopped feeling like there were worms squirming in his guts. Jason never mentioned not seeing Tim at lunch that day and Tim was grateful, though he felt like Jason was carefully watching him now more than ever.

He was going to have to be very careful with his plans.

Tim just needed to create a little stock of medicine without being noticed. He could take some tablets from several first aid kits, never too many and never too many at once. He could avoid suspicion if he was smart about this. Just wait until everyone was asleep or busy doing Batman things and he could slip from his bed and get what he needed.

He had been so concerned about breaking rules, but sneaking around when he was supposed to be asleep was definitely against the rules. But it was kind of like when he used to sneak out of his house to wander the streets of Gotham. So he would just not get caught and he would replace what was taken when he did manage to get to a store and make a purchase without being noticed.

Even though he told himself it wasn’t any different than before, the idea of putting the plan into action made him uneasy, so he let it go to the back of his mind.

He wouldn’t rush into it, he would wait until his stomach really started to hurt again at least.

Tim sat at the kitchen island, laptop open, his own image staring back at him from the video call window. Alfred was pulling cookies out of the oven, humming softly. Bruce was staring at his phone, pretending to read something while Tim… waited.

They were only a few weeks into their summer vacation, and it was a warm Saturday evening. The social worker, Bruce, and his parents had arranged for a video call. The virtual visitation was allowed, but Bruce had to sit in on it, supervising. Tim kicked at the legs of the stool he was perched on.

The phone call was scheduled for 7:00pm. It was currently five minutes past.

Bruce had asked him where he wanted the call to take place, where he would feel most comfortable, and Tim could only think to have it in the kitchen. It would be easy for Bruce to sit in on it and he thought it would be out of the way. However, with how Jason kept finding reason to walk by the doorway, it wasn’t as out of the way as Tim had thought it would be.

Alfred set a plate of peanut butter cookies down in front of him and encouraged him to try one while they were still warm.

It was just a call with his parents. He should be excited.

Right?

Tim took a bite of a cookie, feeling it stick to the roof of his mouth and along his esophagus as he swallowed. He managed one, before his stomach rolled. Tim swallowed down his saliva.

He did miss them. At least he thought he did. He had always missed them when they went on trips and then they would come home and sometimes they would get mad and he would hope that they would leave soon, but he felt like he always missed them anyway.

Because his house was so empty before.

Tim glanced at Bruce who was obviously doing his best not to frown at the time.

7:09.

Yes, Tim decided, he definitely did miss them. Despite everything. He missed them when things were good and they praised him and his Dad would tell him stories of their trips, promising that Tim could come along when he grew a little.

Tim’s feet swayed back and forth, nowhere near touching the ground.

7:12.

Seconds ticked by and Tim let his head slip down, resting his chin on his folded hands. Another few minutes and he set his head gently on the table.

His mother hated when he did that.

Sit up straight, Timothy.

He wondered if it would be the first thing she said when she saw him.

Another plate of cookies made an appearance at his elbow. Oatmeal chocolate chip.

7:18.

Bruce hummed and typed something on his phone.

Tim’s stomach writhed.

At 7:32 Bruce cleared his throat. Tim’s eyes darted to the man, but he didn’t sit up.

“I messaged your social worker. She has not heard from your parents today either.”

“If they’re traveling, the time could be different.”

“Yes,” Bruce spoke slowly. “But we did reconfirm the time earlier this week with them.”

Tim frowned. He didn’t know why he did that; why he tried to make excuses. It was a reflex maybe. He had spent years explaining why his parents weren’t available. Lying about their location so nobody would know that he was on his own at the house.

Tim wrapped one arm around his stomach and lifted his head from the countertop. With his free hand, he reached over and snapped the laptop shut, ending the open call.

“They’re busy. They forget.”

Me. They forget me.

“Tim,” Bruce’s tone was firm and it made him freeze. “They should not have-,” Bruce shook his head, choosing his words again. “I am sorry that this happened. I know you wanted to talk with them.”

Bruce actually sounded like he meant it. Tim didn’t think he’d ever had an adult apologize to him and sound so sincere. Without warning, Tim’s vision blurred.

“It’s okay,” Tim whispered. But Bruce was shaking his head. He looked like he was about to say something else, but he took several deep breaths instead. Tim found himself matching him.

“Jason and Dick should be in the living room. I know they wanted to watch a movie tonight. Do you think you’re up for it?”

Tim nodded. Knowing that if he was left alone right now he would really start crying and the twisting of his stomach would get the best of him.

“That didn’t take too long.” Dick commented from his stretched-out position on the couch.

“Surprised they actually showed up.” Jason spoke through a yawn as he shifted over, making a Tim sized space next to him on the couch.

“Jason,” Bruce’s warning tone. Jason snapped all of his attention to them, he took in Tim’s hunched shoulders and Bruce’s barely hidden frown.

“Holy shit. I was joking. They didn’t show up?”

Tim minutely shook his head.

“Assholes!” Jason jumped from the couch and stalked towards the front door. Bruce caught him by the elbow.

“If they’re home, they’re right there. Let me go and tell them off!”

“Jason-.”

“No, that’s messed up. I think they’re assholes, but he actually wanted to talk to them! And where do they get off- they’re lucky Tim wants anything to do with them! I-”

“Jay, calm down.”

Something in Bruce’s voice made him stop and he looked to Tim who had already sat down on the couch. Dick had wrapped his arms around him and was whispering something into his hair.

Tim didn’t need Jason’s anger right now.

“Fine,” Jason grumbled. Deflating, He took three deep breaths and then moved back to the couch, shaking his head.

He plopped down on the cushion and leaned into Tim’s side, successfully squishing the boy between his brothers. Tim closed his eyes, feeling the warmth and the pressure. Tim opened his eyes when he heard the soft thunk of a plate of cookies being set down on the coffee table. Alfred was there and he offered Tim a smile before he made his way back to the kitchen. Tim thought he heard Bruce whispering something, but he couldn’t quite catch it.

“Pick a number from one to five, Timbo,” Jason finally said.

Surprised and confused, Tim hesitated before answering. “Three?”

“Nice. We’re watching Dune then.” Jason grabbed the remote and the plate of cookies from the coffee table. He handed the plate to Tim while he searched for the movie in the menu. “Eat. Everything is better after Alfred’s baking.”

“That’s true,” Dick agreed, grabbing one for himself.

Bruce finally took a seat in a recliner and tried not to look like he was watching them all intently.

Tim told himself that Bruce didn’t mind them all sitting around doing nothing, having fun, but it still made him just a little tense. He ate a cookie, because they were good and Jason seemed to want him to, but it sat in his stomach like a stone and by the end of the movie, he was so uncomfortable that Tim couldn’t get away fast enough. It was one of the few nights that they were planning on all going out so he told them good night and prayed they would leave for patrol soon.

His medicine heist would have to happen tonight.

The waiting was the worst.

Lying in bed, in the dark, feeling his stomach churn, willing it to settle until he could carry out his plan… He absolutely hated it.

The time on his phone said it was just after midnight. They were usually home around 4am and Alfred didn’t usually check on Tim this late. Bruce might pop his head in before going to bed. Tim had been awake for that once. And when he blinked up at Bruce, confused, the man had seemed so concerned that Tim wasn’t asleep. He stayed up way too long trying to make sure Tim wasn’t sick or sad or something.

Tim had more than enough time to carry out his plan.

His main target was the foyer first aid kit. It was tucked away in a closet, but the area saw enough foot traffic that it wouldn’t be noticeable if some medicine went missing. A lot of people could have taken it. There was no reason for Tim to immediately be seen as the culprit.

Tim took several deep breaths before crawling out of bed and tiptoeing down the hallway. When he got to the staircase, he stopped and listened, but he didn’t hear anyone, there were no heavy Bruce footsteps, or Jason’s quick ones.

He took the stairs one step at a time, pressing his feet down gently, searching for creaky floorboards before letting his full weight shift to that step.

It took forever and a day.

But finally. Finally. He was in front of the small storage closet. Listening again for the slightest sound, Tim turned the handle and swung the door open easily.

Guilt, for not the first time, clawed at his insides. They didn’t lock it away, because they trusted Tim would follow the rules and not take something that wasn’t his. One last time, Tim weighed the rules in his mind. It was bad to get caught with medicine, it was bad to take the medicine. But he would replace it as soon as he could. So taking it had to be the lesser of the two bad behaviors.

Tim’s heart was pounding in his chest.  And he took in a huge gulp of air before holding it. Not breathing, he reached as far as he could and brushed his fingers along the edge of the kit’s handle. He repositioned himself, planting a foot on the lower shelf to get a boost and he hoisted himself up, grabbing the kit and dragging it from the shelf. Tim dropped to the floor and flipped the latches open. He didn’t have time to listen for footsteps. He had to be quick now.

He scanned the contents of the kit. Bandages, antiseptic, gloves, tweezers, painkillers-there! Little pink tablets sealed away in individual packets. There were 12 total and Alfred said he had just restocked this one, so there wasn’t a need for him to check it again any time soon. Tim could probably take 8 and be fine. He pocketed the pills in an instant and latched the kit closed before he finally breathed out in a gasp.

Tim froze and listened. He didn’t hear anything. Certainly not anyone coming to check on the strange noises coming from the foyer.

Still.

He needed to get out of there.

Heart pounding and his head swimming, Tim shoved the kit back onto a shelf and slipped out. The pills crinkled in his pocket, but there was no way it was as loud as Tim thought it was. He forced his lungs to take in air normally. The hard part was over.

If anyone caught him now, he would say he was coming down for a drink of water. There wasn’t a rule against that.

Tim  crept to his room, attentive to his surroundings until he was quietly shutting the door behind him. In the darkness, Tim collapsed onto his bed.

He had done it.

He was all sweaty, his heart was racing and his stomach hurt but he could fix his stomach at least.

Tim knew about rationing, but as he sat on his bed, contemplating the pilfered packets, his gut seemed to rebel and a deep nausea coursed through him. With shaking fingers and his teeth, he ripped the packets open and chewed three pills. Feeling like they were stuck, Tim went to his bathroom and drank some water from the sink faucet.

He took several deep breaths, imagined Jason or Bruce breathing with him. Leaning over the sink, he breathed through the nausea and the pain. His heart rate slowed eventually and Tim crawled back into bed.

Slowly, his stomach stopped rolling.

His last thought was that he would need to ration the rest of the tablets or he would have to have another heist soon.

Tim drifted into a light sleep.

Tim woke up the next morning and all day he was waiting for Alfred or Bruce to accuse him of theft. He waited during breakfast and lunch and then dinner. And nobody said anything. Tim was left to quietly stew in his guilt and his stomach turned more and more throughout the day. He played games with Jason, but his heart wasn’t in it and no matter how much he tried to smile, Jason was giving him curious looks when he thought Tim wasn’t looking. And all day his stomach never stopped complaining.

Tim warily chewed a tablet every few hours. So much for rationing.

In bed that night, Tim made a pro and con list in his mind. Having the medicine did make his stomach feel better. But taking it, being constantly aware that he might get caught? Well. Maybe Jason was right when he described him as nervous. It felt like more than just being nervous now. He was scared. Bruce had promised not to hit him, but, in Tim’s opinion, that wasn’t even the worst punishment. The silent treatment and scalding remarks weighed heavily on Tim’s mind. The idea of Bruce being disappointed bore down on him. Disappointment wasn’t even the end of it. Bruce could always abandon him. Tim knew their secret but he was a 12 year old (almost) kid. People didn’t tend to believe kids. There was no way that was going to work out.

So.

Don’t take any medicine and feel kind of sick a lot of the time.

Or.

Steal the medicine, possibly get caught and get kicked out of the house. Wind up in some awful foster family, eventually run away and live out on the streets.

And his stomach would hurt throughout anyway.

Tim tossed and turned in bed that night, but as the light began to brighten outside his window, Tim made a decision.

No more stealing from Batman.

His body literally could not handle the stress of it all.

With his mind resolved, Tim drifted off into a fitful sleep until he was called for breakfast just a few hours later.

A little over a week passed and, with the absence of classes and no more scheduled calls from his parents, Tim found that something in him had settled. The mood around the manor had changed. Even Dick, who did not have classes, acted like he had been freed to summer vacation and he took some weeks off to spend time at the manor.

It meant Nightwing and Batman patrols while Jason stayed with Tim more than half the nights in the week, playing games and staying up late.

Tim had asked Jason about patrol, but the boy had shrugged it off and said some comment about Bruce wanting him to take some time to be a normal teenager.

They were playing video games for the third consecutive night when Jason offered to get snacks from the kitchen and Tim had the dawning realization that he was being babysat.

With Jason out of the room, Tim sat on the floor with offense and embarrassment growing within him. Jason wasn’t just hanging out. He was watching him. As if Tim hadn’t been taking care of himself for years. As if Tim was a baby and-

“Hey man, we’re out of Sprite. You want a Coke? There’s also, like, sparkling waters, but those don’t even taste like any- hey, are you good?”

Tim was staring, probably with some kind of mortified expression. Jason had skipped out on being Robin to babysit. How did the older boy not resent him?

“Are you mad?” The words tumbled out of Tim’s mouth before he could think. Jason tilted his head, confusion evident on his face. He approached slowly, depositing his collection of drinks and chips on the coffee table, eyes on Tim, like he thought he might bolt from the room.

“I’m not mad. What’s wrong, baby bird?” Jason sunk to the floor, his hands palm up in a placating gesture.  

“I would, I would maybe be mad. If I was Robin and I had to stay. If I had to stay behind and- and keep an eye on someone.” Tim swallowed hard and bit his lip. Jason’s brow furrowed as he studied Tim. He didn’t like it when Jason looked at him like that. Like he was seeing through him.

Jason shuffled closer, until his knees were almost hitting Tim’s leg.

“I volunteered to stay,” Jason finally spoke. Tim blinked at him.

“Why?” the question blurted out from him before he could stop it again. Something sad passed over Jason’s face before he covered it up with a smile.

“Because I like hanging out with you. Because I like being your older brother.” Jason shrugged. “Bruce says you can’t go down in the cave for another month to listen to comms and that sucks, but we get to hang out until then.” Jason aligned himself with Tim, pressing his arm into the younger boy’s. “Robin isn’t going anywhere, Tim. I’m not mad about taking some nights off.”

“But,” Tim fidgeted, pressing down on his fingertips, “you love being Robin.”

“Yeah, but I volunteered to hang out with you. So what does that tell you, Tim?”

Tim felt his eyes begin to sting. He thought his parents loved him. They had raised him, molded him, provided a house for him.

“I love being your brother,” Jason spoke every word clearly, without hesitation.

Tim couldn’t remember his parents ever saying anything like that.

Tears began to slip down his face and he leaned into Jason’s shoulder. This family hadn’t even known him for that long. How could they love being around him when his own parents had always left. Always they left. Nothing Tim did ever mattered, he could not keep them home and he could not keep them happy when they were with him.

A sob escaped his chest and Jason wrapped his arms around him.

“You’re good, baby bird. I’ve got you, alright?” Jason whispered into his hair and gently rocked him back and forth.

“I love- I love being your brother too,” Tim choked out between sobs. Tim could feel Jason smiling against his temple.

“I’m the best big brother, right?” Jason questioned when Tim’s sobs had quieted. Tim let out a watery laugh.

“Don’t tell, Dick.”

Jason laughed and gave Tim a final squeeze.

“No promises.”

“Bruce, it wasn’t me. Did you ask Dick? He’s the one that keeps drinking milk even though he’s not supposed to.”

Tim froze in the hallway. He was outside the kitchen, a few meters from the door when Jason’s irritated voice reached his ears.

“I have already checked with Dick, but he keeps all his medicine in the bathroom in his room. Alfred said the kit was moved to a lower shelf, like someone had a hard time reaching it. Jaylad, I was just concerned. I know some food is hard for you-”

“Oh my god, Bruce. I haven’t had problems in years.”

Tim’s stomach dropped to the floor. It had been weeks since he had stolen the stomach medicine. He hadn’t forgotten about it exactly, but his stomach was feeling better and everything else was going so well now.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

“You say that, but it really wasn’t that long ago. Let me just get the proper dosages for you and we can go back to the Gastroenterologist.”

“I am not doing that again.”

“Jason.”

Without thinking Tim flew the last few steps and stumbled into the kitchen. Because this was Jason. Jason who played games with him and hugged him and Jason whose beanie was still sitting on Tim’s bedside table. Tim had grown up an only child. If anything went wrong in the house, it was his fault. There had never been anyone else to blame. It was always Tim’s fault. So while Tim had thought he wouldn’t be immediately to blame if someone noticed the missing medicine, he hadn’t really thought that one of his brothers would be getting in trouble for it. He was so stupid. 

Tim breathed out harshly, feeling the remnants of his world crashing down.

He had broken a rule. He had broken it. On purpose. And he was so scared, terrified of being caught, but he wouldn’t let Jason take the fall.

He would never do that to his brother.

Tim breathed out and pointed a shaking finger at his own chest, he opened and closed his mouth and nothing came out. Everything started to go dark around the edges. He felt suddenly like he wasn’t entirely in the room with them. Like part of him was just a few steps behind the doorway, still out of sight.

“I’m sorry,” Tim gasped out before his shaking legs sent him sinking down to his knees. “I’m sorry.” His mouth was moving, but he couldn’t control it. His heart was skipping beats now and warmth climbed up his neck and face. He couldn’t feel his hands. His lips were numb, but he moved his jaw. “Sorry,” he slurred.

There were hands on him. Gentle and steady.

“Just breathe, man.”

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Warm hands were on his shoulders. Tim tried to find his feet again, but nothing was moving properly. The hands kept him upright.

“Tim, I want you to tell me five things you can, uh see.”

“Jaylad, I’ve got it. Let’s breathe first. Here.” Large hands. Bruce. Bruce took Tim’s hand in his and pressed them to his broad chest. “Inhale…. Exhale.”

Bruce started counting breaths and Tim counted with him, focusing on the numbers.

“Okay, Jay.” Bruce whispered, “You can ask him. Go slow.”

“Tim,” Jason’s voice sounded forced, “what are five things you can see?”

“Kitchen.” Tim’s eyes darted around, “You, Bruce.” Tim frowned. “The counter and… the floor?”

“Awesome, what about 4 things you can feel?”

“Heartbeat,” Tim stared at his fingers still being pressed to Bruce’s chest. The man let out a soft breath.

“Yes, I’ve slowed it down, now.” Bruce was smiling at him. “What else, bud?”

“Jason’s touching my back,” Tim realized.

“Thought you were going to fall this way. Two more.”

Tim went on to list his socks and Bruce’s hands.

They got through three things he could hear, before Tim was pulling away from Bruce’s hold.

“I’m okay,” he whispered as fresh tears sprung to his eyes. They were being so kind and he didn’t deserve that. “I’m sorry, Jason,” he choked out.

“You don’t need to be sor-”

“I did it,” Tim turned to Bruce. “It was me, don’t be- don’t be mad at Jason.”

Bruce was surprised at the change in conversation, but Tim saw the moment of understanding dawn on his face.

“You took the tablets from the kit,” Not a question. Tim nodded, miserable.

“Tim,” Bruce sounded… weird. Breathless almost. “You could have told one of us if your stomach hurt. We would have gotten you something.”

Tim blinked. He didn’t sound mad?

“Those ones aren’t meant for children. Alfred has some kids chewables in one of the pantries.”

“I didn’t think- I thought…” Bruce was offering to get him medicine? For a stomachache that was probably Tim’s fault anyway? “I can? It’s okay?” Tim whispered.

“It’s okay to take medicine?”

Tim nodded.

“Yes, Tim. It’s- Jaylad, go sit in the other room, alright?”

Tim turned and saw that Jason had a deep frown on his face. His hands were clenching into fists, and he had leaned away from Tim. The older boy was fuming.

“Take a break. I’ve got him.”

Jason nodded curtly. “I’ll be back,” he ground out, patting Tim’s shoulder as he went.

The room went silent for a long moment before Bruce took a deep breath.

“Jason’s mad,” Tim mumbled.

“Not at you.” Bruce was quick to reply. “He’s angry at some things that happened in the past.” Before Tim could ask for anymore of an explanation, Bruce locked his gaze on him and smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Tim, if you are hurting or not feeling well, I want you to please let someone know. It doesn’t have to be me. It can be Alfred or one of your brothers. But, in the end, it’s my job to take care of you.”

Tim frowned. It had not been his experience that he should inconvenience adults. Bruce seeing his thoughts turning, took another deep breath and continued.

“I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Tim looked, really looked, at Bruce and he only saw concern. Not anger or annoyance. Bruce gives a shit. Jason’s words came back to Tim then and they set something at ease inside of him.

Jason was right.

Trust Batman.

“Sometimes,” Tim licked his chapped lips, “A lot of times, my stomach hurts.”

Bruce nodded, his brow furrowing.

“Have you noticed that it happens with certain food?”

Tim shook his head. “Not really. Mom said it was because of what I ate.” Tim frowned. “But it just happens when I have a lot of homework or-,” people yell or I can’t keep track of the rules, “-or I feel nervous.”

“Nervous.” Bruce echoed. “What makes you nervous, Tim?”

Tim swallowed hard and then he thought about it. He thought about the new house and family meals and the slamming doors and watching movies in front of adults and his parents making appointments to call and not showing up and, and, and ….

He gestured to his surroundings as he felt his throat close up.

“Maybe, maybe everything,” he whispered.

“Me?” Bruce asked, but he shook his head. “I mean, do adults make you nervous?”

Tim nodded.

“Do Jason and Dick make you nervous?”

Tim shook his head, but then hesitated. “Not anymore.”

Bruce smiled. “I’m glad. Listen, I know it can be hard, but I promise I am here to look after you. I swear, I want you to be happy here and I can’t say I’m never going to be upset, but I’m going to do my best not to raise my voice. Though It might happen in an urgent situation. I’m not going to yell at you for accidentally breaking something or keeping a door closed or… or having a stomachache. I want you to be able to come to one of us when you are hurt or not feeling well. And then we can take care of you. Okay?”

Tim nodded again, his eyes watering. Bruce opened his arms in invitation and the man looked, well, he looked hopeful. Tim only hesitated a moment before falling into Bruce’s hold.

“You give a shit,” Tim whispered into the man’s chest. Bruce let out a startled laugh before resting a hand on top of Tim’s head.

“Yeah, bud. I really do.”

Trust Bruce.

Chapter Text

They spent most of that Friday playing in the pool. Jason and Dick took time to try and teach Tim how to swim properly, as it wasn’t an activity he had done often growing up.

It was the beginning of Tim’s birthday weekend and the other boys were intent on having him pick the activities. But seeing how Tim balked at the decision making, Jason or Dick always presented him with choices. Pool or the movies? Video games or Netflix? Pizza or Alfred’s cooking?

After a full day of swimming, Tim just wanted to curl up in soft pajamas and rest. He knew he couldn’t do the resting part yet though, there was still dinner (he had picked Alfred’s cooking), but he could at least change into more comfortable clothes. He forced himself into a pair of jeans and a loose shirt, good enough for a casual family dinner.

Jason called through his closed door when the food was ready and Tim rushed to pull on warm socks before racing from the room.

He didn’t need to wear shoes at the table, but being barefoot didn’t feel right. Even though Alfred had told him more than once that he did not mind what Tim wore. Bruce had bought him a few pairs of fuzzy socks and Tim soon found he loved wearing them, even in the warmer weather.

Family dinner was chicken, rice and a mixture of vegetables. Simple and easy to digest. Bruce was talking about making appointments for Tim to talk to doctors. Some for his stomach and some for… other things. Bruce was letting Tim decide when he was ready to talk about his nervousness and other stuff with anyone outside of Wayne manor. Tim decided to wait until after his birthday at least. For the moment, he found himself dry, warm and comfortable. Looking at everyone at the table, watching them talk and joke, something clicked in Tim’s head.

This is a family. This is what it's like.

The suddenness of the thought pulled at his heart and the corners of his eyes stung unexpectedly. He wiped at them as casually as he could, but Jason leaned over.  

“You okay?” Jason whispered in his ear. Tim nodded, a real smile sliding into place.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Jason made a noise of approval and launched back into his argument with Dick about… the botanical definition of vegetables?

“Broccoli is just a flower!”

“Eat your flowers then, Jay.”

Tim felt a giggle slip out unhindered and he noticed the pause it caused in the conversation. Like everyone at the table took a breath at the same time. Tim, who so often had avoided Bruce when he thought there was something wrong, found his eyes landing on the man at the head of the table.

Tim had never seen such a look of fondness directed at him. It made his face burn and his eyes start to sting all over again. He glanced away, but the small smile on his face remained.

“I like flowers,” Tim chimed in. Jason huffed his disappointment and pushed the serving bowl towards his little brother.

“You can have these then. Trade me the carrots, Tiny Tim.”

Tim handed over the bowl and he smiled when Dick made an offended noise across the table.

“So broccoli is a no, but carrots, the vegetable that just lives in the dirt, that’s okay?”

Jason shrugged. “They taste better.”

“As long as everyone finds some vegetable they like,” Bruce added, “that’s what’s important.”

“Vegetables aren’t real!” Jason said, waving a carrot on his fork through the air. It flew off the end and smacked Dick in the face, which may or may not have been an accident.

They all laughed and Tim found himself joining in easily.

After dinner, they had played some board games (a choice that Dick offered) and then Tim had gone to bed, while Jason got ready to go out with Bruce. They promised they would let Tim down into the cave the day after his birthday, Bruce still insisting that Tim make it to the ripe old age of 12 before he was exposed to the criminal underworld. Sometimes they seemed to forget that he used to run above the city too. He knew enough about the criminal underworld. But he only had two days before his birthday. He could wait, he could keep the rule.

Tired, he finally changed into his pajamas and crawled into the soft bed. He shut his eyes, wondering if Bruce, Dick and Jason would have a productive patrol, wondering if they would be okay.

He drifted off to sleep before he knew it.

Tim woke up startled, the edges of a dream slipping away from him. Something about his parents. Something about being lost somewhere. The clock on his phone read 5:41am.

Too early.

But his heart was beating weird and he didn’t know if he could get back to sleep. He took several deep breaths, like he did when Jason was around, telling him it was okay.

After a few moments, Tim slipped from his bed and into the bathroom. He had a small night light in there that was unnecessary and babyish, but Dick said they were good to have if you were in a rush and didn’t want to turn on the overhead light.

Tim wasn’t rushing exactly, but he didn’t want to wake up anymore than he already had. He really wanted to be able to go back to sleep. He knew Dick and Jason had a day of birthday weekend surprises planned and he didn’t want to be a zombie for it. He was going to go to the bathroom, take a few breaths and crawl back into bed. Simple.

The plan was still in his mind when his bare foot slid out from under him and his forehead met the edge of the sink.

There was a flashing of light and pain in his skull as he fought to take in what had happened.

He was on the floor.

Dimly, he realized that earlier he had dropped his wet swim trunks on the edge of the sink and they had dripped enough now that his bathroom floor had become a hazard.

“Damn,” Tim breathed, his air whistling out between his teeth. “Damn,” he repeated when the pain in his head didn’t subside. Tears sprung to his eyes and were spilling over. “Oh. No. No, I left them out. I didn’t clean… I made a mess.” Tim’s breath hitched. Desperately talking to himself because his head hurt too much to contain all his thoughts on its own. “Why didn’t I? I can’t…” Tim tried to roll, to prop himself up and actually turn on the light now. But his head hurt and his legs were all damp from old pool water and his cheeks were wet from crying and-

Tim brushed careful fingers across his forehead. Stinging pain and something warm and wet across his fingertips.

Tim’s heart sped up. “I’m bleeding,” he whispered to no one.

He had a box of space themed bandages in his medicine cabinet, but he didn’t have a first aid kit.

“What?“ Tim’s stomach had decided to start rolling, “What do I do?”

He couldn’t wake any of them up. They had all been up late on patrol. Tim should take care of it himself. His parents would have been furious if he had woken them up this early and they weren’t even vigilantes. And they would have just told him to put pressure on it and to leave them in peace (Also, don’t bleed on anything important). Tim had gotten one memorable nosebleed when he was eight and his parents were actually home and they had to completely replace that carpet in the hallway. They had been so angry…

But.

Bruce didn’t have a rule about being hurt. Jason and Dick got hurt all the time on patrol and even just running around the house. Bruce was never angry when they got hurt. So, maybe, it would be okay.

Tim pulled himself up with the edge of the sink, head swimming.

I don’t want to be alone.

Putting all his worry aside, it was the only thought in his head.

I want someone with me.

He had thought it countless times over the years, never daring to voice it, knowing no good would come of it. Dark nights at Drake manor with nobody aware of his existence around for miles, he had just wanted to not be alone.

Tim swallowed down an ugly sob.

Jason was great, but for this? He could go to Bruce.

Right?

Bruce had talked to him about this. He was supposed to be able to come to him for help. There’s not a rule against it. He reminded himself. Not here. Bruce says so.

In the dark, Tim stumbled to his bedside table, fingers finding a now familiar beanie that always sat next to his lamp. Squeezing the fabric tightly, Tim made it to the darkened hall, unsure how he even found his way when his head hurt so much and he kept his eyes closed against the pain most of the time.

He was down the hall and at the door, creaking it open before he could second guess it.

And Batman. Bruce. Was awake and alert instantly from the soft noise. The lamp was on and his foster father was staring his way intently.

“Tim?” his voice was gravelly from sleep, “What’s wrong, honey?”

Tim didn’t think he had ever been referred to as ‘honey’ in his entire life. A tender ache blossomed in his chest and a sob escaped his lips. Bruce was out of his bed in a blink. The man was fully awake and he was staring with wide eyes.

“Oh, Tim. What happened?”

“I slipped,” he choked out. And god he sounded like a toddler. “I left my trunks out and there was water and- and-,”

“Take a breath, deep breath, bud. Here breathe with me.” Bruce counted slowly, gently placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder. The man reached and turned on the overhead light before he knelt down to get a closer look, but his gentle touch never left Tim’s shoulder for long.

They breathed and Bruce counted over and over, until Tim’s lungs actually felt like they were pulling in oxygen.

“It looks like it’s slowing down, but we’re going to go down to the kitchen, okay?” There was an edge to something in Bruce’s voice. An urgency that Tim had not heard before.

Tim nodded slightly, squeezing his eyes shut. The light was beginning to feel like it was drilling a hole in his head. Bruce’s warmth left him for a moment while the man picked up his phone from the nightstand. He returned quickly and then was wrapping Tim in his arms and carrying him, cradling him like he weighed nothing. Bruce’s footsteps on the stairs were surprisingly smooth and Tim noticed how Bruce was being careful not to jostle him.

He twisted his fingers in Bruce’s soft shirt trying to breathe, but all he could concentrate on was the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had carried him.

Bruce soon set Tim down on the kitchen island, so gently, like he was fragile and important.

Tim felt new tears slip down his cheeks.

“Can you rate your pain for me? On a scale from one to ten?” Bruce was holding both of his shoulders now, studying Tim in the new light.

“Two?” He suggested because it really did hurt, but probably nothing compared to anything Batman had gotten while on patrol.

“Are you sure?” With gentle fingers, Bruce tilted Tim’s chin up slightly. Tim grimaced hard at the movement. “Sweetheart,” Bruce’s hand drifted, nearly cupping the boy’s face. “You can tell me. I won’t be upset. I promise.”

Tim swallowed. “Maybe, maybe four,” he finally gasped.

“Okay,” Bruce typed something out on his phone. “The light is making it worse? Okay, that’s fine.” Bruce flipped off the overhead light and then switched on the dimmer light over the stove. He moved quickly and was back at Tim’s side before the boy could even fully register that Bruce had moved.

They were taking a few quiet breaths when Bruce’s phone dinged with a new message. He frowned at the lit up screen. “This is what’s going to happen.” Bruce put his phone away and turned his attention to Tim. “Alfred is going to come and help clean you up. And then, then we are probably going to the hospital.”

“Why?” Tim mumbled. Was it because he gave a response of four?

“Because you are hurt and if you have a concussion, I want someone else to take a look.”

“Do you go to the doctor’s when you have a concussion?” Tim retorted with a frown.

“He should,” a voice sounded from the kitchen doorway. Alfred was there, dressed in a red robe and simple striped pajamas, it was the first time that Tim had seen him dressed in anything more casual. “I’m afraid Master Bruce isn’t the best example.” Alfred peered at Tim’s forehead, tutting softly. “But for you, I believe the hospital visit is necessary.”

“I don’t want to,” Tim muttered.

Bruce hummed as he started wiping Tim’s face with a damp rag. Tim became aware that the blood must have dripped quite a bit and he must have been quite a sight, waking Bruce up in the middle of the night, face stained red.

“Sorry, bud.” Bruce lightly scrubbed the side of his face, near his ear. “But you still have a social worker looking in on you. We need to get you checked out. If it’s a concussion, I need to make sure you receive proper medical care.”

Something clicked.

“Would they- would they take me away from you?” Tim whispered hollowly. Bruce froze in his ministrations. Fresh tears sprung to Tim’s eyes as he glanced between Alfred and Bruce. In the dim light, Tim met their eyes.

They looked worried.

“Are they? Bruce, are they going to take me away? Because I got hurt?”

Bruce’s expression shifted to something more controlled.

“No, honey. Nobody is taking you away from us.” Bruce answered, but his voice sounded wrong, like he was starting to choke on something. Alfred set a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, but remained quiet.

Tim didn’t like it. He buried his face in his hands. He was just getting used to having them. But maybe they were never really his.

He felt the soft beanie clutched in his fingers begin to grow damp with his tears.

He had been taken away from his parents. And his parents had resources, not as much as Bruce, but they had people they could manipulate, people who owed them favors. And they had lost Tim anyway.

“I’m sorry I slipped, I'm sorry I made a mess,” Tim sobbed into his hands. “You can’t let them take me, Bruce. Please don’t, please-”

“Tim,” firm hands were on his shoulders startling him, making him look up into Bruce’s eyes once more. They were still worried, but there was a determined look to them now. “You don't need to apologize. Nobody is taking you away. I promise. You’re staying here with us.” Bruce cupped his face. “Forever, Tim. I swear.”

Tim choked on his exhale. 

“Forever?” He whispered.

Bruce brushed the slowing tears away with his thumbs.

“If that’s what you want,” he whispered back.

Until Tim had been faced with the thought of losing it all, he hadn’t dared to put what he wanted, what he really wanted, into words. He thought of playing games, family meals, laughter, closed doors and no extra, hidden rules... and he couldn’t imagine going back to the way things were before.

Trust them.

“I want to stay.” Tim’s voice shook, but he forced the words out in a rush. “I want to stay with you guys.”

Bruce nodded and gently wrapped his arms around his son, pulling him to his chest.

“I want that too,” Bruce said.

With pain throbbing through his head and tears flowing freely down his face, Tim felt warm.

He leaned into it.

The hospital visit went by in a blur of waiting rooms, antiseptic and kind nurses telling him it would be okay.

And Bruce.

Bruce held his hand when they stitched up his head. And he was there when they reported the mild concussion, his grip squeezing Tim’s fingers with reassurance. Thankfully, Tim was fine to go home as long as he was going to have someone to check on him for the next 24 hours at least. For the first time that Tim could remember, he did have someone to check on him for a solid 24 hours and he didn’t have to lie about who was watching him.  

When it was all done, Bruce carried him out to the car (even though he could have walked) and made sure he was buckled in. Tim felt so… young. But when Bruce gave him a gentle smile, he couldn’t work up his usual argument about not being a baby.

Maybe he could be young for a little while. He was still 11 for one more day after all.

“You should have woken me up!” Was the argument they met as soon as they were through the front door. Bruce hadn’t put Tim down yet and now that Jason was clearly awake, Tim did attempt to squirm away. Bruce held tight though.

“Jay…”

“No, he bashes in his head and nobody bothers to get me? I just gotta find out from Alfred when I wake up? What the hell, Bruce!” Jason threw his hands up in the air.

Bruce breathed out slowly in a measured beath.

“I get you’re upset. But Tim has a headache, so let me get him settled and then we can talk about it.”

Jason deflated almost immediately, seeming to realize his volume had made the younger boy shrink down.

“Just,” Jason grumbled, "will you just let me know, next time something like this happens?”

Bruce hummed. “Sure, Jaylad.”

“Won’t happen again,” Tim mumbled, reaching out to Jason. The older boy stared at the beanie Tim was holding out to him. Tim hadn’t let it go once since the whole mess had started. Jason slowly pushed Tim’s hand back with a shake of his head.

“Hold onto it a little longer in case you need it, baby bird.”

"Okay." Tim wouldn't argue.

Jason walked with them to Tim’s room, holding onto Bruce’s elbow the whole time, making sure the man was not going to drop his little brother.

Tim was placed in his bed and found he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

“We’ll celebrate your birthday more later.” Jason whispered as Tim drifted off to sleep. “Just feel better.”

Tim sighed, exhausted but strangely content. Soon, he fell asleep.

Tim woke up warm. Warm and squished.

With some difficulty he pried an arm free from his blanket. Blinking in the darkness, the only light came from the nightlight in Tim’s bathroom. The blackout curtains in his room blocked out any light from outside, so he had no idea what time it was.

He then realized he could hear multiple people breathing nearby.

Jason had an arm thrown around him and was snoring softly by his side. Tim then realized his feet couldn’t move and when he looked down, he made out the shape of his oldest brother taking up residency along the foot of the bed. In the dark, Tim could make out the rise and fall of his chest and realized he was sleeping as well.

He turned his head and saw a shape on his pillow. Bruce was asleep in a chair pulled up next to the bed, his hand resting near Tim’s cheek. Tim thought he could remember rough, but gentle fingers brushing through his short hair while he slept.

This is a family. This is your family. 

He inhaled and, even though Tim wasn’t used to it, had recently been a stranger to it all, he let the warmth and the love settle in his chest.

He breathed out.

The manor was quiet.

And Tim was home.

The end