Chapter Text
The plane touched down at 8 AM GMT at Aberdeen International Airport, and by this time, Damian had been sleeping on Tim’s shoulder for over 2 hours straight. He woke the gremlin up gently, and charitably didn’t call attention to the small wet spot on his shirt from the kid’s drool. Damian grabbed his bag from the overhead bin (Tim helped since the brat had to stand on the very tips of his toes to do it), and overcome with another bout of fondness (he needed to stop this before it became a problem), Tim also didn’t call attention to the B.T.W. that was embroidered on the side of the expensive leather carry-on. It wasn’t his business if Damian wanted to steal his family’s possessions. But with Bruce’s luggage and Dick’s Switch, Tim wondered what of Jason’s had been swiped. He couldn’t imagine the Red Hood being very forgiving of it, even if Damian was just 10.
“C’mon, Marilyn Hartman, let’s get you back to Gotham.” Damian rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and nodded docilely, which, honestly, should have been Tim’s first clue.
Tim was naive, however. He was a sucker. He was like a newborn baby, because instead of wondering what else the feral child had up his sleeve, he tucked Damian under his arm and walked off the plane to find an information desk. A part of him (a small part that would never admit it out loud) was disappointed they would have to part ways, but Tim knew that the longer they stuck together, the more dangerous it would be for everyone.
He wasn’t sure what to do about Damian’s clinginess or refusal to leave him alone, but he was pretty sure that after his own outburst at the safehouse, Bruce, Dick, and Jason would be a lot more willing to corral the kid and keep him away. There was no way after that shitshow that they would keep trying, and Tim embraced all the ambivalent feelings that washed over him when he realized he finally achieved what he had been trying to do since 14—pushing them away.
At the end of the day, however, it worked out for everyone, no matter how much the Waynes tried to convince him otherwise. Jack and Janet had his whole future planned out for him—he couldn’t risk going against them just in case his mother outed Batman. Heck, people were still calling for Bruce Wayne to go to prison just because of Tim. How much worse would it be if they all knew he was Batman?
Was it depressing to know that for the rest of his life he’d be tied to Gotham, tied to DI, tied to be whatever dancing monkey caricature Jack wanted him to be? Sure. But Tim figured living in Gotham wasn’t a guarantee of a long life expectancy anyway, so if worse came to worse, he’d hope for an early death. Not like that would be anything new.
“Excuse me, sir?” A gate agent with a faint Italian accent stopped Damian and Tim as they exited the gangway.
“Yeah?”
“This young man has an Unaccompanied Minor tag. I need to check him off and make sure his pick-up is confirmed.”
“Okay, but the thing is, I need to send him back to Gotham. We’re just getting another ticket and he’s going to be turning right around.”
“That’s fine sir,” the agent was the height of professionalism, “but part of our regulations means we must confirm that if you send him back, he will have someone picking him up.”
“Okay. I’ll give you a name.”
“I don’t need a name, sir, I need a phone confirmation.” Tim thought that was overkill and cursed Gotham’s ridiculous laws and statutes. It sounded exactly like something convoluted that the Gotham City Council would have come up with for their city based airlines.
Tim tried again. “That doesn’t make sense, sir . Did he have a phone confirmation coming here?”
“He didn’t need one, sir. ”
“Why not?” Tim bit out.
“Because according to my notes here, he was meeting his 16 year-old brother on the plane and you would be signing off on him when you arrived here.”
Tim, who never liked to call attention to his own status as a minor, was bewildered. “So you’re telling me that this airline is alright with him being watched by a teenager who is under 18 leaving Gotham, but must have guardian approval going to Gotham?”
“It is Gotham, sir. I hear you have a large, talking crocodile that stalks the sewers?”
Damian, who had been quiet this whole time, piped in chipperly. “We also have a woman who kills people with plants and a criminal made out of clay.”
Tim snapped. “Not helping, Dames.” He turned back to the gate agent. “Fine.” He gritted out. “If I have the kid call his dad, will you let us buy another ticket?”
“Very good, sir.”
Tim rolled his eyes and handed Damian his cell phone. “Time to pay the piper, shortstack. Call Bruce and tell him you’re coming home.”
“Yes, Timothy.” The lack of argument should have been Tim’s second clue. But Tim, despite his genes, was not a detective. He was just a very exhausted 16-year-old, ready to find a hotel room and sleep for 12 hours.
Damian put the phone on speaker. It rang three times and then a familiar voice answered.
“Wayne residence.”
Tim gestured to Damian.
“Pennyworth.”
“Good morning, Master Damian, it is a pleasure to hear from you my boy. And how was your trip? I take it your flight went well?”
“Yes, but Timothy wants me to return.”
“Ah. I see.”
Ah? I see? Tim felt a deep unease settle over him.
“They need your confirmation that someone will be meeting me back home.”
“Mmm. Well, I am afraid there might be a problem with that, young sir.”
Tin gestured towards Damian frantically. He pointed to his lips and tried to form the words he wanted him to say. Tell. Him. You. Have. To. The gate agent huffed and looked at his watch. Tim glared at him. And Damian? Damian pretended he didn’t understand Tim.
“Ok Pennyworth, I guess if that’s your answer, I—OOF.” Tim grabbed the phone from Damian and put him in a headlock. The kid squirmed but was surprisingly silent.
“Mr. Pennyworth. Alfred. This. Um. This is Tim. Tim Drake?”
“Ah, Master Tim, my precious boy, it’s been awhile.”
“Yeah, so, they need to have a guardian’s permission for Damian to fly back to Gotham. I’d put him on another airline, but, as I’m sure you know, no other airlines fly into Gotham except this one. Would you be able to pick him up?”
“Well, Master Timothy, I would have been delighted but unfortunately I am about to leave Gotham later today. The Royal Theater’s 65th Reunion is in London next week, and Master Bruce persuaded me into using my copious amount of vacation days to attend. As no doubt you can understand, I have not had a vacation in over 30 years.”
Tim cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh. Of course. That. That makes sense? Um. Can you ask Mr. Wayne or Dick or Jason to call?”
“The young Masters are also unfortunately unavailable until at least next week as well, my boy. They left quite suddenly for a safari expedition in Kenya.”
That sounded fake, but ok. Tim sighed and noticed that the gate agent had already wandered away. More sharply than he wanted to, he snapped into the phone.
“Then what am I supposed to do, Alfie? I mean, Alfred. I can’t take Damian with me. He’s 10.”
“There’s no one I’d trust more, Master Timothy. Just for a couple weeks. I’ll be back in Gotham in a fortnight. Or, “ and Alfred paused like he was thinking, “You are more than welcome to drop him off with me in London after my engagement in a week. I’d be more than delighted to see you, dove.”
The familiar, but rarely used, nickname sent a very inconvenient wave of longing through Tim and he sighed in acquiescence.
Alfred seemed to pick up on it despite Tim’s silence. “Very good, Master Tim. Master Damian has been given an unlimited credit card and I sent two packages along with him, one for each of you. I will always answer this line, day and night, so ring me if you need anything. Your father and brothers will unfortunately be out of reach for the duration. I trust you both will be safe and look after your brother in a matter befitting your namesake, right my boys?”
“…yes, Alfred.”
“Of course, Pennyworth!” Damian, who had escaped Tim’s headlock early on, looked positively delighted, like the cat who caught the canary.
“Very good. And chin up, Master Timothy. Begin as you wish to finish, lad. Master Damian, keep me apprised of your location at all times and don’t give your brother any trouble. I must go now. My taxi is here. Goodbye.”
And with that, Alfred Pennyworth hung up.
Tim looked incredulously at the phone in his hand for a good five minutes at least. He was surprised Damian didn’t bother him during this internal freak out, but the kid had wandered over to the window and was watching the planes takeoff.
Ok, well, that was cute.
“Dami.”
“Yes, brother?” His eyes were filled with mirth but he spared Tim’s ego by not smiling.
Tim sighed. “Let’s get out of here and find a hotel.” He looked through his bag and found his sunglasses. “Wear these, kid, and pull up your hood.” Damian looked confused but complied.
“We shouldn’t be seen together.” He explained, “I don’t think there should be paparazzi here, but you never know who’s gonna take a picture and connect the dots.” Tim chuckled a little and said to himself, “God, Jack might actually kill me if that happened.” He pushed Damian forward and didn’t notice the apprising look his little brother gave him.
They went through customs and walked to the Welcome (Fàilte gu Alba) Kiosk set up at Arrivals. Tim spoke with the information desk (a bored college-aged guy who was dressed in a tartan coat and for the life of him, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else) and when he looked over, Damian was grabbing every tourist pamphlet on display and stuffing them in Tim’s computer bag.
“Thank you.” Tim said to the desk guy who had already turned back to his phone, and grabbed Damian’s shoulder. “Ok, Mr. Stalker, if this is going to work, you have to listen to me.” Damian nodded.
“I am a very good listener, Timothy.”
“Sure you are, Dames. First, you cannot argue with me. I came here expecting to be alone, so that means that you cannot complain or whine or debate about whatever it is I say we do.” Damian looked intrigued.
“And what is it you came here to do? Why Scotland?”
“Second, if I tell you to duck or hide or put on the sunglasses or step away from me, you will do it without pausing and asking me dumb questions.”
“My questions are never dumb.”
“And third, this is like, the most important rule about being brothers ever, so you have to listen, okay?”
Damian’s eyes gleamed.
Jason knocked on Tim’s front door early in the morning. Tim opened it up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Up and at ‘em, Timbuktu, get dressed, we’re going out today.”
“Jason? What? What are you doing here?”
“It’s been three weeks, Timmers. I missssssssed you. You’re coming over tonight right? Remember, Dad said you could come hang out with us any time your parents were out of town. You said they were going to leave last night, right?”
“Yeah. But I thought…” Tim trailed off and Jason’s eyes softened.
“I was not messing with you, Goobs. I always have so much fun with you. Dickhead, too! C’mon Timbourine. Daylight’s burning. You’re 10 now! And I missed it! We’re going to play laser tag, then gorge on pizza, then go down to the pier for ice skating and then spend all of B’s money on trying to win that huge Gorilla with the Superman cape. Alfie said he’s making your favorites and then you’re spending the night, ok?”
“Oh, ok.”
“Turn around bud, let’s march upstairs and get ready. Oh gosh! Tim! What happened to your elbow? It’s all black and blue!”
Tim looked down at his elbow and his eyes widened. “Whoa. That’s so cool.”
Jason snorted. “Yeah, but it also looks like it hurts. What? Were you trying to do stunts in the backyard again?”
Tim shook his head shyly. “Nah, you asked me not to anymore. Not without you or Dickie.” Jason smiled and flicked his ear.
“Ok, then Daredevil. What happened?”
“It’s embarrassing, Jay.”
“You’re 10, kiddo. Nothing should be embarrassing to you yet.”
“So, remember that step outside the Bat Burger on Chestnut? Mom and Dad took me there for my birthday before they left yesterday and I was showing Dad how I could jump over it, but I overcalculated and tripped forward. Luckily Dad caught me, or I would have broken my nose. Seriously! I’ve never had a broken nose before, but I bet it would have been cool.”
Jason snorted. “Only you, Timmers. Gosh, he must have been grabbing really hard to leave bruising like that, Goobs.”
Tim nodded solemnly, “He was sooooo scared. Seriously. He lectured me like, all night. That’s why my eyes are so tired.” Tim opened his eyes really wide and pretended to be a ghost. Jason laughed and chased Tim into his room, throwing him on top of his bed and tickling him.
“Jay! Jay stop!”
“You can never run from me, Timbo! First and most important rule of brotherhood: Brothers don’t run away. Brothers always stick together.”
Tim looked very seriously at Damian.
“We stay together. Do not run away from me, ok, shortstack? I can’t be worrying about you here.”
Damian rolled his eyes. “Really, Timothy? I am not an infant—”
“As you’ve said many times, Baby Brat.”
Damian huffed. “I accept your terms. But you must accept mine.”
They walked to the bus and transportation hub and sat on the bench. Tim double checked the tickets he bought from the Welcome Booth and quirked an eyebrow at the 10 year-old next to him. “What are those, gremlin?”
Damian straightened his back and looked at Tim seriously in the eyes. “First, you must promise not to lie to me. If I get too nosy or something, just tell me. Don’t. Don’t tell me something that’s not true.” Tim paused, but Damian’s face was grave and he could tell this was really important to him.
“I’ll try my hardest, Dami. Anything else?”
“Second, can we please see the cows, Timothy? Pretty please with cherries and chocolate on top?”
Tim barked out a laugh. “WHO taught you that?”
Damian’s cheeks pinked. “Richard.”
The bus pulled up and Tim and Damian boarded with their tickets. They grabbed a bench in the back for two people and Tim pushed Damian towards the window.
“I promise we’ll see the cows, Jack Hanna. Now, take a nap. It’s a three hour drive.”
“Where are we going?”
Tim smiled. “Monster hunting.”