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Tim Drake didn’t remember when it started.
He remembered when he realized it though, it was a random weekend and he was with his newest nanny at the mall to get back to school clothing. They entered a comic store because Tim mentioned once that he enjoyed reading—his nanny noticed how much he was alone over the years so she tried her best to help him enjoy life—so she assumed that he was talking about comics like any young man in Gotham does because of Batman and the Robins and decided to buy him some.
The raven haired boy preferred cold, solid books that would teach him about life, whether it was a fairytale novel with a good allegory or a series about the autonomy of cats. The smell of the pages and the flowery writing always stuck to him. But of course, he was a Drake, he smiled and he nodded and he said thank you as he walked into the shop.
A Batman comic book series—leaned against a giant cut out cardboard photo of batman—stood proudly near the door, attracting the kids of the city who found solace in his aura of safety. Tim supposed he should get those comics, they’re not too random for someone his age—he just knows he will frown at some pages because they are inaccurate. He grabs the first comic pack he sees and brings them to his caretaker with a polite smile and a fake eagerness he lets paint his body. She smiled widely at his choice—saying something about how her cousin was saved by a Robin one time—and headed to the checkout with the item clutched to her purse.
Tim followed her to the employee and hung around beside her before realizing that she would have to get approval from her lawyer for the credit card to go through—she went bankrupt a couple times a year before so she has a lot of paperwork—and that would take awhile. He instead began to browse the manga and posters—not really looking for anything of course, just to pass the time.
A little kid raced in front of him and almost knocked him over, dragging their apologetic mother by the arm in pure delight. Tim smiled, this time a real smile, and moved out of the way. It was a rare sight to see a happy child. The boy waited to feel the expected bang of sadness of not being able to have this because of his parents business trips but it never came.
He looked over to his nanny, seeing that she was almost done checking out, and he walked closer to the register—nearing the magnets and the stickers. The boy looked them over for a bit, giggling silently at the funny messages and imagery. He scanned the room for people watching, getting the message that nobody was. With a quick inhale he swiped a big magnet and hid it in his pants. Nobody noticed.
Well, almost nobody.
Jason Peter Todd-Wayne stood two feet away from him, staring at him with an unreadable expression. “You shouldn’t do that y’know, you could risk juvie and that shits not fun.”
Tim Drake was panicking. Extremely panicking. Not only was he caught shoplifting, he was caught by the adopted son of Bruce Wayne, Batman. Holy shit, this was Robin! Tim was caught by Robin!
It took everything in him not to be a fanboy. Tim, this isn’t the time.
Opening his mouth to say something, the blue-eyed kid was interrupted by a large dark form that walked up behind Jason.
“Master Jason, did you find the one you want? We have to go early, Master Bruc—Oh! Did you make a friend?” Alfred questioned as he came to the conclusion that there was another boy in hand reach. The man held a shit-ton of blue exorcist and other various mangas.
Tim shook. You know the feeling you get when you do something wrong, it’s like you are toeing a dangerous line and you are vibrating with fear—consequences of your actions really hit you in the face and you now fully understand what’s at stake because of your stupid decisions. He was feeling that, it was terrifying,
If it got out that Tim Drake stole, the Drake name would be shamed upon and business in the industries could slow or even worse; stop, because his parents would be seen as either neglectful or encouraging of wrongdoings. And it was especially bad because the person who found out about it was Jason Todd—son of Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne could ruin his entire life and his parents with a single blink. His heroes were about to become his destroyers and he was going to have to get used to pain and suffering in jail because that’s where he will end up, and oh, god, Tim is panicking.
“Yeah, we like the same comics.” Jason responded to the man. He stared at the shorter boy’s eyes with a sharpened and questioning glare and then relaxed his face while he turned around to face the balding butler.
“Alright, well we must be going, Bruce is waiting for us and I must make dinner. Say goodbye to… What is your name, my boy?”
Tim stuttered, “Tim, drake. Tim Drake.”
He didn’t know why he said his full name, it was foolish now looking back, if Jason would be to tell anyone about his stealing and Tim told a fake name it would probably be harder to find him—well, that’s only if Jason lived under a rock, he most likely saw the dark haired nerd before at a gala.
Alfred tilted his head a bit to the side. “Janet and Jack's boy? I heard they were in Japan?”
“Oh they are, sir. My nanny is taking care of me while they are gone.”
The butler smiled at the reassurance and gestured to Jason to go to the checkout. “Sir makes me feel old, please call me Alfred. Well it was nice to meet you, Master Tim.”
Master?
“Nice to meet you too sir— Alfred.”
As the two Waynes walked away, Tim was hit with a familiar and gut wrenching pain. It was the one he used to get when he saw little boys or girls having fun with their parents. He didn’t quite understand why he felt it with Jason or Alfred, but it was there and it was cold and it rutted under his skin.
Huh.
Maybe it was because the stalker has been following them around for years—he should be ashamed of his creepy tendencies but he really wasn’t—taking pictures and admiring them. He guessed he formed a bit of an unrequited bond with them.
Anyways, the magnet was secure and unseen, and—for now at least—Tim was not being outed as a rugrat thief that wasn’t even half good at it, so everything was fine. He willed his arms to stop shaking and his head to stop mapping the room suspiciously. He put his hands out of his pockets and caught up with his caretaker. She was lurking at the door, watching him with a soft quirk of her lips as he interacted with people. He knew she lost a son, Gotham showed no mercy and Tim felt bad for her.
“A friend of yours?” She asked in her thick creole accent.
“Yeah… Something like that.”
Tim Drake didn’t remember when it started.
He remembered when he realized it though, he was at a stuffy gala. It was summer and the New Jersey sun was blaring through the large sky-roofs that the owner of the house constantly labeled as ‘the required amount of nature’. It was an average joke but his parents laughed like dogs.
The gala was a charity event for the Gotham History Museum. The millionaires and billionaires found it would be delightful to—instead of cleaning up the streets or providing food for the hungry—build a new attraction dedicated to Batman and his story, even though they knew next to nothing about it.
It was stupid, especially coming from people who whisper about how much they hate the vigilante and his gang of children. Rich people in this city didn’t actually get wealthy from normal means or good work, nobody cared about that. It was all connections, and how much illegal shit you can get away with by using them. The museum was for show and nobody bought it. Tim thinks that they should just toughen up and say what everyone knows.
Janet Drake was seated two places away from Bruce Wayne and she was ecstatic—it was kind of nice to be honest—it was the first time in years that the heir has seen her without a scowl. Apparently Drake Industries could flourish if they got ‘allies’ in high places such as Wayne Industries. Tim understood it, it just was so boring.
“And now Bruce Wayne of Wayne Industries will be giving a short speech about the museum and its expectations. He has been elected to look over the building process of the attraction and is a large portion of the donations, please give a round of—“
Tim zoned out after a couple sentences, he has heard this all before. He half wanted to scoff about how egotistical it was for the literal Batman to make his own statues and essays for a museum—but then again he is probably just managing it so he can check if anyone has anything on him. It was smart, but also stupid. So right on the nose that nobody would think much of it.
Despite his mocking thoughts, Tim did clap when the billionaire stepped onto the raised stand. He was dressed in a formal suit—one obviously tailored to his every crevice and proportions. Tim wondered if maybe he had a valet, the bachelor seems like the type of person to want to have someone that knows how to do anything and everything in a certain subject.
A light sensation on Tim’s shoulder made him jump a little, but he didn’t turn around, it was the air. He would sit still and look proper for his mother—no matter if he liked it or not.
“Psst—Yo thief kid.” A voice murmured lowly behind him.
This time he did jump, a full turn jump. Jason Todd was sitting behind him in one of the uncomfortable gala chairs that everybody pretended to love but would secretly spill wine on so that next time they came to something hosted at this spot there was a chance of better seating.
The whisperer was decorated in a casual-formal outfit. Slim fit dress pants and a white button up collar shirt. By the look of a line amongst his neck he must’ve had a tie but took it off because of the unbearable heat. His eyes were calculating but friendly.
Tim stiffened. “Hello.”
It was a very awkward response and the two boys stared at each other for a good minute.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” Jason asked.
Tim frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? We aren’t friends?”
The taller boy snorted, and a bit of pasta came out of his nose. He didn’t seem to mind.
Janet grabbed onto Tim’s thigh with a warning. He was drawing too much attention.
“Well according to Alfred we are, and he won’t let me go home without hanging out with you for a bit, do me a favor will ya?” Jason jokingly drawled.
“Yeah, okay.”
Tim Drake silently stood up from his seat and gestured to his ‘friend’, his mom understood what he was trying to say and nodded quickly. With Tim gone she could lose the ‘mom’ attitude and become a complete businesswoman. Folding her hands on her lab, she moved a tad to the side to make room for him to go.
Squeezing through the chairs—mindlessly following Jason—he questioned what exactly the boy expected. Tim didn’t have weed or a vape or anything. He supposed that he would just have to sit in a hallway for a bit without talking until the teal eyed talker deemed it enough. He hoped Jason wouldn’t hate him, and in a small, dumb, part of his mind, Tim hoped that they could actually become friends.
“So I was thinking we could just chill in a room or something, I brought some cards if you wanna play blackjack or something.”
“Yeah yeah, okay.” Well this was a good development, it wouldn’t be silent.
Hopefully Jason wouldn’t care that Tim knew exactly zero things about blackjack or any card games for the matter. Well, he could play solitaire and he could learn fast so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The boy didn’t seem like an angry person. Tim also hoped that Jason wouldn’t care about his chipped responses.
“I also have these tarot cards I found in a trash can somewhere. It’s cool, it has these runes on them. I have no clue how to use it or even what the runes mean but we could make something up, y’know.”
Tarot cards! Tim could do tarot cards! He once had a butler who had a hobby in the occult and he teached Tim about some of it, mostly ‘beginner’ things like divination and simple good luck spells. “Oh I know how to use tarot cards!”
The Robin brightened up at the loner adding to the conversation. “Oh really? Could you give me a reading or whatever it’s called.”
“Yeah, of course!” Tim smiled softly.
It’s been awhile since someone has been curious about his interests, especially the ones like this which are considered ‘demon like’ or ‘stupid’. It’s also been awhile since someone has longing to be in a conversation with Tim—excluding the couple days when his caretakers came over, but that was mostly out of duty or work.
Tim hoped he wouldn’t scare or bore Jason.
The boys arrived in an empty room. It was obviously unused and old—the windows were covered in a silk white sheet that over time became gray with dust. The furniture in the room was pushed against the wall and the wallpaper and trim was molding. Despite all that it still smelled decent and had this warm air of comfort.
Tim thinks that maybe this was a kids room, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of his favorite nanny—the one that bought him comics. He bit his cheek as he imagined a happy couple building a beautiful nursery only for a kidnapper to steal the child in the hospital. He thinks of the mother crying herself awake and lighting a candle in this room, he thinks of the father pushing the chairs and tables to the side so the mother wouldn’t cry—but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. He misses his nanny.
“You okay?” The older asked, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Jason didn’t seem convinced but he let Tim talk.
Continuing with his train of thought, Tim spoke. “So you want me to do a reading for you? What kind of spread?”
“Oh yeah!” Jason said, eyes widening in excitement, “Yeah I would love a reading, I don’t know what a spread is but whatever you want.”
The younger smiled a bit and laughed. A tarot spread was hard to explain but basically it's a layout for where you put cards. You can make your own layouts or use classic ones like the horseshoe spread, a spread is you deciding how you will read the cards, will it be a story? Will it be a question and an answer?
“Okay, I’ll just do my own spread. So what do you want to know? Tim prodded.
The Wayne son scrunched up in confusion. “The future? I don’t know”
Tim doesn’t know why he found this so wholesome. He felt so safe and he didn’t understand why.
He asked Jason to take out the cards and—when presented with them—started to get a feel of them just like his old butler told him to.
“I’ll do a general reading then, you can do more specific ones like romance or business but I’ll do general.”
Jason nodded and leaned in and waited.
“So first, I’m going to knock on the cards to cleanse them of any mettling spirits or negative energies that could interfere with an accurate reading.” He shifted his voice into a mystical drawl to amuse Jason, it worked. Jason let out a loud guffaw and his eyes crinkled with his smile.
Tim smirked, and did what he described. “And now I’m going to shuffle the cards and pull the ones I need.”
Pulling and pushing at the tarot cards, the shuffler began to think of what spread to use. He has always hated the three-card spread because he likes having more detailed reads rather than an overview. And he really didn’t want a complicated and long one like the Celtic cross, so he decided on a relatively simple five card spread.
Bringing out five cards from the shuffled deck, he sat them facedown, side by side in a perfect line.
“The first card,” Tim pointed at the card to the left of Jason, “is going to represent what you are right now, that could mean who you are, what you do, a person you know, it’s just how your life is right this moment.”
“Okay.”
“The second card will show us the transition, or tipping point, to the middle card—which represents a big part in your life. So basically the first three cards are going to be the now, and how it will change.”
Tim cleared his throat and let his eyes stroke the cards. It’s been awhile since he has explained them.
“The last two cards will be the aftermath of the change, and then the like aftermath of it affecting your whole life. I don’t know how to explain it uh, think of it like the first of the last cards will be the week following the change, and the last, last card will be after that and on.”
Jason seemed to be following the shorters descriptions pretty well, but his mouth moved to ask a question and Tim let him ask it. “How do you know there’s going to be a big change in my life?”
“It’s life, dude.”
“Oh okay.”
Tim giggled, and continued. “I’m going to turn them over now.”
The first card was the wheel of fortune. In all simplicity it meant changes, it could mean growing rich, falling poor, traveling to far away places, anything really. “So something in your life is going to change, but I’ve said that already, I’m thinking that you are gonna find yourself in a new situation, maybe you’re traveling somewhere.”
The second card was the three of swords. It means pain or heartbreak, separation or agony. “You are gonna go somewhere, and in that place you are going to be separated from someone, and it’s going to cause you pain.”
And the third card was death, this was the turning point and the big change in his life. Tim didn’t think much about it, death was often misunderstood as a bad card, but in all reality it meant a new beginning.
“Am I going to die?” The curly haired boy said, pointedly staring at the death card.
Tim picked up the card and handed it to him. “Nah, the death card doesn’t usually mean death, it just means the ending of old things and new beginnings.”
Jason squinted his eyes, “So I’m going to be far away and separated from some thing or some one, and then something is going to end. That’s ominous.”
The shaggy haired kid let out a loud laugh.
The fourth card is temperance in reverse, temperance usually means calm or good decisions, but with it being upside down it tells Tim that—in Jason’s situation—it means rash decisions or anger. “You are going to be angry at the thing that is ending, or how it ended or whatever.”
The fifth card was the tower. And most occultists would laugh and grimace at death and tower being in the same reading but Tim wasn’t an occultist, he was just a reader. The Tower is widely associated with danger, crisis, sudden change, destruction, higher learning, and liberation.
“Because of this anger, you are going to do dangerous things, but in the end you will learn from it and be free from it.”
Jason looked amazed. “And you got that all from a few cards?”
“I was taught.” Tim blushed and started to pack the cards into their stack.
“Forgive me if I don’t believe any of this shit by the way. It’s cool and all but I’ve never been one for trusting the divine.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Think of it this way, tarot can help with anything because it doesn’t have to be magic. Humans are smart as fuck but they constantly get blinded or don’t trust themselves, tarot just is a tool that lets them base their ideas off it, to look at it in different perspectives.”
Standing up to stretch his legs, Jason looked at Tim in a new light. “Well damn, I never thought about it like that but it’s so true, they should use that in therapy.”
The ravenette pursed his lips and nodded in a friendly way.
“So, Timmers, wanna be friends? Bruce has been egging me to get some and you don’t seem that bad.”
It felt like the stars fell into Tim’s hands. “Yeah, I’d love that.”
Tim Drake didn’t remember when it started.
He remembered when it ended though, he was hanging out with his friend Jason Todd in the Wayne manor.
It took awhile for the older to convince Tim to come over to hang out and watch a movie or play some video games, Tim kept refusing because he didn’t want to be a bother—in all honesty he just didn’t want anyone to know that he knew about their secret nightlife—but Jason wouldn’t take that as an answer. And now after his consistent prying and begging, Tim was sitting in the living room watching the first scream movie, surrounded by various fancy pillows and blankets.
The kid has watched this movie many times, Billy was his queer awakening and Stu reminded him of his younger self—it’s weird but who cares—but Jason hasn’t watched it even once! At this point Tim is completely convinced that Jason wouldn’t understand a Star Wars reference and it was physically hurting him.
“Do your parents mind that you’re here?” Jason asked in a casual tone. The younger wasn’t stupid, he knew what this was, he used to lie and steal and manipulate just like the teal eyed boy was attempting to do. Tim didn’t mind though, he found it nice that somebody cared about him enough to see the neglectful nature of the Drakes.
Turning to face him, Tim decided to be honest—Jason would’ve figured it out anyways, he has numerous resources and was trained to catch lies. “They don’t know.”
“Why? Did you tell them you are somewhere else or something?” Jason prodded.
Tim looked around the sullen manor, it seemed to be smaller than before, it appeared less crowded and loud. The Drake boy sweared he could almost hear the crickets outside after Jason asked his question.
“They're in Norway, or wait was it Sweden? Somewhere in the Scandinavian Peninsula,” Tim was genuinely mixed up, “They only stay in places for like a day and sometimes the company forgets to remind me where.”
An odd look overcame Jason’s face. “Your parents don’t tell you where they are? You guys seemed so close at the comic store those months ago.”
“Oh no, me and my parents aren’t close. That was my nanny, she comes over every couple weeks to clean up the house.”
The shorter let his fingers trail the embroidery of the Wayne’s pillows, they were basic pillows with a comfortable trim—the best combination of good for the back and beauty. Tim wishes the other houses would have these pillows for galas.
Jason tensed. “So, nobody lives with you for weeks?”
Not liking where this was going, Tim laughed. “Yeah but they give me a big ol’ check and I flourish myself for them.”
“Is that why you chose to steal that magnet?” Jason deadpanned.
“Look, fine. They don’t leave me with anything, alright? Is that what you wanted me to say?” Tim snapped, “My caretaker comes by every couple weeks and she does the best she can with her own money and I’ll admit I’m selfish and I let her. I don’t know why I stole that magnet, I just had a bad day.”
“Woah, im sorry, i didn’t mean to pry!” Yes he did, “that fucking sucks, you shouldn’t have to be alone, you shouldn’t have to worry about money.”
Tim scoffed, “It's literally Gotham. You literally grew up on the street, what are you talking about”
Jason barked a laugh. “Well yeah you’re right. Still, I wish it wasn’t so shitty.”
“Yeah”
Randomly, the Robin started to look a little nervous, but he quickly covered it up and plastered a smile on his face, glancing back at the television for a millisecond, coughed and then gathered his guts.
“Do you wanna stay here?”
“What?” Tim replied eloquently.
Giggling, Jason continued. “Well since your parents.. Y’know.. and you are all alone, you could stay here—at the manor. I guarantee that Bruce won’t mind and we can buy you whatever shit you want.”
Tim was shocked at the generosity of the offer—not that Jason wasn’t selfless, just because something like this has never been offered to him. He has always been the child sitting behind a mansion or a rich parent, an unknown entity until he could work. A shadow until he could shine. And now somebody knew him so much and liked him so much that they would ask him to live with them, it was so kind.
“Do you mean that?”
“Yeah, one condition though.”
“What is it?”
“No more stealing stupid shit, promise?”
“Well..”
“Promise.”
“Ha, yeah, I promise.”