Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim doesn’t bring up the whole shifting thing for a while, but Dick’s well trained enough to pick up a wolfy scent on him sometimes, even in human form. And on one occasion, when he knocks on Tim’s door to wake him for breakfast a few visits later, he spots a tennis ball on the floor, half under the bed. So Tim is probably making an effort to get used to shifting, but he’s doing it by himself, in secret.

So he’s not too surprised when Tim comes to him with a nervous energy and a determined look and asks to learn about scent tracking. 

“If you still want to teach me, I want to learn.” He declares, and of course Dick still wants to teach him. He’s planned out how to do it and everything. Tim hesitates over his next admission. “Is it- I mean- I don’t think I’ve ever spent any time with other wolves as a wolf. My parents don’t shift.” 

Dick has kind of assumed as much, the way Tim talks about his parents keeping their status a secret and forbidding him to shift, the way they didn’t have pack bonds with him. 

“It’s not so different from hanging out in human form, you’re just a little more limited in how you can communicate. Kind of like when we watched that movie and I sat in your lap.” He says, and Tim nods. “We’re actually going to start with a little tour of the manor to work on picking up scents before we try and follow them. 

“Okay. Should I-?”

“Go ahead, I’ll join you. Then we’ll walk around and see what scents you notice in different rooms.” He shifts, shaking out his fur as Tim follows. It’s only the second time he’s seen Tim as a wolf, so he licks his face in a happy greeting. Tim jumps a little. Right, Dick thinks, he hasn’t interacted with other wolves, he isn’t used to this. He knows that, but so many things seem second nature to him that the extent of it hasn’t really sunken in. 

He nudges Tim lightly as he passes, leading him to the laundry room. It’s as good a place to start as any. There’s the strong scent of detergent, the weaker scents of the stain removers and dryer sheets up on the shelf above the machines, and the smells of dirt and spilled pasta sauce from the basket of laundry yet to be done. He sits down and watches Tim explore, sniffing the air and then moving around the room. It’s hard to tell what he might be picking up or thinking about as he does, but that’s why there’s going to be a “quiz” afterwards.

When Tim stops and looks at him like he’s done and asking for more instructions, Dick moves on. They pass through the kitchen (where Alfred provides snacks), the lounge, the study, and the mudroom before circling back to the laundry room for a human debrief. Dick shifts back and waits for Tim to follow.

“Okay, what did you smell in here?” He asks.

“Detergent, some other kind of laundry thing, and… something I couldn’t identify.” Tim recites. Not bad, but pretty vague. Though part of it is probably due to a general unfamiliarity with laundry products, seeing as he doesn’t do his own laundry and may or not even know what a dryer sheet does. 

“Good. You can still pick up some of that in this form, right?” He waits for Tim to nod. “We have better noses than a standard human, but not as good as when we’re wolves. You can get better at picking out and identifying scents even in this form with practice. That can come in handy on the streets, since we can’t shift in costume.”

“Cool.” Tim says, and Dick snorts. Yeah, it is pretty cool.

“Now, let’s see if you can try to locate that scent you couldn’t identify earlier. You can try moving around the room to see where it smells stronger or more faint, and try investigating anything you think could be it.” 

Tim shifts again and starts nosing around. Dick stays human to give hints or tips if needed, and (most importantly) to text Bruce to set up a surprise. Tim seems to be following whatever’s caught his nose without any trouble, which is a good sign. After a moment of inspecting a basket of unwashed laundry, he sticks his nose in and draws out one of Bruce’s shirts in his teeth. The pasta-sauce-stained one, of course. 

“Good job. Bruce spilled pasta sauce on that yesterday when he got too distracted by some report while eating, he just paused with the fork halfway to his mouth and let it drip all on his shirt.” He wishes he’d taken a picture of Bruce sitting there with the fork in the air and his mind totally elsewhere. Tim shifts back and returns the shirt to the basket.

“What now?” He asks.

“Now we go back to the other rooms and do the same thing.” 

They do, and Dick is pleased to see that Tim has at least the basic idea down. To be honest, he’s not sure exactly how he would’ve been able to teach him if he couldn’t discern scents at all. 

“One last thing. I want you to try tracking a scent across a larger space. Bruce is around here somewhere with a plate of bacon. Think you can find him?” That had been what the text was for, so hopefully he’s done as Dick had asked.

“I can try.”

“Okay, we’ll stop by his bedroom first so you get a better sense of the scent you’re looking for.” Dick shifts with him again, padding through the halls to Bruce’s room and pulling the lever-knob down to open the door. He waits a moment to give Tim time to get the scent before backing out of the doorway. It’s up to him now.

He seems a little lost at first, to be honest, sniffing up and down the hall without anything to indicate he’s actually tracking anything, but he gets there eventually. His movements turn more decisive, and soon he’s trotting down to the very end of a hall and nosing his way into a guest room that never gets used. Sure enough, there’s Bruce, sitting on the bed with the bacon Dick had asked him to bring. 

“Boys.” He nods in greeting. “Why am I here, and why did I need to bring bacon?” 

“Because,” Dick says as soon as he’s shifted back—he needs hands to take the bacon from Bruce, after all. “You’re my tracking practice dummy. The bacon was to make you a little easier to find, and it doubles as a tasty victory treat.”

He tosses a strip to Tim and takes a bite of the other himself. He’s the teacher, technically a win for his student is a win for him too, so he gets to share the victory treat.

“Good work, then.” Bruce nods at Tim. “Am I free to go?” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Dick gives him the plate back, along with a grateful look for participating. Tim shifts back and looks at Dick expectantly. 

“That’s all I have planned. You did well for your first time. I can keep working on it with you, but you can also practice on your own. Explore the place and see what you smell.” He ruffles Tim’s hair just because he can. Tim puts up a token complaint, as usual (if it actually bothered him, he’d dodge it).

Dick wonders for a moment if Jason would’ve been a better teacher for this. He’d been really good at scent tracking, even in human form, a skill he’d often used for evil (stealing from Dick when he brought over treats he didn’t intend to share—no snack was safe from Jason’s nose). 

He’d been so different from Tim when they first met, but they’d had sort of similar problems—where Tim’s spent too little time as a wolf, Jason had spent too much time in the form that made him feel a little safer and helped him survive a little longer on the streets. He’d seemed jumpy in human form before Bruce made him Robin, not unlike the way Tim gets nervous about wolf stuff. Maybe they would have been able to relate to each other over being out of balance. Or maybe Jason would’ve clammed up and turned defensive and Tim would’ve retreated into that neutral, vaguely formal persona Dick’s seen him put on, and they’d both have pulled away from each other. He’ll never know, though of course he wants to believe it would have worked out okay even if they had a rough start. 

He takes a breath and pushes the ache of missing Jason away before it can leak into his pack bonds and upset anyone. 

“Have you beat my record time on that racing game yet?” He asks Tim as a change of subject.

“I’m going to!” Tim insists.

“Suuure. You wanna play head to head so you can lose to me in person too?” 

“I get to pick the course.”

“It won’t help you, but sure.” 

They bicker all the way to the lounge to start up the game.

Chapter Text

Bruce waits in the school pickup lane, carefully not thinking about the last time he’d been here. Today isn’t supposed to be about his ever-present grief. That’s the whole reason he’s here. He’s tried to keep a distance between himself and Tim, for both of their sakes, but he knows it’s not fair to the boy. Not now that he’s agreed to let him be Robin. Robin is supposed to be Batman’s partner, but Bruce’s avoidance is preventing them from building the trust that’s so important in the field. And with the clear parental neglect from the Drakes, and Dick and Alfred having already bonded with Tim, it’s clear he won’t (and shouldn’t) be pushed away so easily. So Bruce has to actually make an effort and get to know him.

He waves when he spots Tim leaving the building. He looks a little surprised as he walks up to the car, and Bruce can’t blame him. He slides into the passenger seat, slinging his backpack into the floorboard. 

“How was school?” Bruce asks, waiting for the click of his seatbelt before pulling out. 

“Fine.” He looks around the car as if it’s hiding some kind of clue. “Not to be rude, but…”

“Why am I here?” Bruce guesses, mildly amused. Tim nods. He’d expected the question, but it doesn’t make it easier to answer. He can’t simplify the tangle of his emotions into an explanation when he doesn’t even want to pull on a single thread of it. He settles on a brief statement of what he’s decided to change. 

“I know I’ve been a little distant with you. I agreed to let you be Robin, but I haven’t been treating you like a partner. I thought we could go to the museum today, spend some time together.”

“Oh.” Tim says. “Okay.” 

The drive is quiet, like they don’t quite know what to say to each other without Dick or Alfred around, outside of Bat-business. Thankfully it’s not a long drive. Bruce hasn’t been to the museum in years, not since Dick was young. Hopefully Tim will enjoy it. He pays for two tickets, and they go in. 

“Where do you want to start?” He hands Tim the brochure, open to the map. Tim looks it over.

“We could start on the third floor and work our way down.” He suggests, and Bruce nods.

“Lead the way.” 

Upstairs, most of the third floor is devoted to a series of exhibits labeled “From Pinelands to Piedmont: Biomes of New Jersey”. They walk through faux landscapes, like large-scale dioramas, with displays about the plants and animals found in each. There’s even an area made to look like a cityscape with a focus on urban wildlife.

He tries to make small talk, asking Tim questions inspired by the exhibits. Has he ever been camping? (“No.”) Does he have any interest in nature photography, or just vigilante action shots? (“I like it, just not as much as… the other stuff.”) It’s not exactly an instant connection, but they aren’t total strangers to each other, and Tim seems to be warming up to him. He even asks a question in return. 

“Do you have any hobbies, or is it just…?” He waves a hand vaguely. 

“…I’ve been called a workaholic.” Bruce admits. “But I do enjoy chess, and working on cars. They’re not my only interests, just the easiest hobbies to fit into my schedule.”

“Do you have any other hobbies, or is it just photography?” He repeats Tim’s question back to him. The boy shrugs. 

“Nothing exciting. Skateboarding, video games. Sometimes I play board games with some people from school.”

They move down to the second floor after touring all the biomes. This floor is split into multiple exhibits, including a space marked with the current temporary exhibit: Bats of New Jersey. Making conversation is a little easier now that they’ve sort of broken the ice, and they keep talking as they read about the six species of bats that live in the state permanently and the three migratory ones that spend their summers here.

Bruce is reading about the benefits of bats when he hears laughter. Has he heard Tim laugh before? Suddenly he’s not sure he has. He turns to see what’s so funny, and Tim—still giggling—points at a smaller plaque about… Batman. Ah, he understands now. The text jokingly compares Batman to the real bat species of the state. 

There have always been rumors and supernatural conspiracy theories around him since he’d started his crusade: Batman is a ghost, Batman is a military test project, Batman isn’t real (that had been in his earlier days, when he wasn’t well known). But “Batman might eat one hundred and twenty percent of his body weight in bugs each night if he were really a bat” is a new one.

Tim points his phone at the plaque, obviously taking a picture that’ll end up shared with Dick, who’ll likely show it to others. He’d better not hear a word about eating bugs at the next JL meeting. 

“I suppose it’s better than the old rumors of Batman being a vampire.” He allows. “You’ll have to send me that picture.” 

His phone buzzes in his pocket within seconds. 

They tour the rest of the museum, and Bruce is reminded of a dozen overlapping memories of the place. Regular visits, galas, private donor events. He’s been here often—alone, with a date, with Dick, with-with Jason. He tries not to think about that, choosing the first lighthearted story without grief attached to it to tell Tim—the one where Dick had broken the big geode. 

“He was eleven, and I’d told him not to fight as a civilian, so I couldn’t be too mad at him.” He explains in the end. “I think we still have the broken geode somewhere.” 

It might be funny if he tried to donate the pieces back to the museum for their next auction. He could pretend he forgot where they came from. They’d believe it from ditzy Brucie. The museum director’s face going all pinched as he tries to stay polite enough not to drive away a major donor despite the situation would be worth seeing. Dick would appreciate it. Maybe he could bring Tim along too. 

He’s going to share the idea with Tim, but the troubled look on his face makes him pause. He’s lost in thought, with a frown and a little furrow between his brows. 

“Everything okay?” He asks, and Tim blinks, the troubled look slipping back into a neutral expression. 

“Yes, sorry. Just thinking.” 

“Anything you want to share?” He asks carefully. 

“No, thank you.” Tim shakes his head. Bruce leaves it there. He isn’t close enough to ask any further questions. 

“I think we’ve seen everything they have. How about ice cream on the way home?” He asks instead.

“Okay.”

They leave the museum and find the car in the parking garage. Tim is quiet again in the car, but he seems alright when they arrive at the ice cream shop and look over the flavors. 

Bruce gets salted caramel with pretzel bits. Tim gets a scoop of coffee and a scoop of chocolate that he sort of mashes together with his spoon. 

“Don’t those get soggy?” He asks, eyeing Bruce’s ice cream. 

“Only if you let it melt instead of eating it.” He says as he scoops up a pretzel bit with his first spoonful of ice cream. “You can ask for a sample if you want to try it.” 

“Maybe next time.” Tim says, and Bruce hums in acknowledgement. Next time, he thinks. He’ll have to bring Tim out again. He used to stop for Batburger or ice cream with Dick and Jason when each was Robin, at the end of patrol or during a slow night. Maybe he can try to be that kind of Batman again for Tim’s Robin, if he’s already going to be trying to be a better mentor—a better packmate, part of him can acknowledge. 

“I’d like to see some of your photos, if you’re comfortable sharing them.” He says with that in mind. He hasn’t seen Tim’s work, though he knows Dick has. Tim pauses, but smiles and agrees.

“Okay. Um, I’d have to pick some out to show you beforehand.” 

“There’s no pressure.” He assures him. 

“No, I want to. I’ll go through my files when I get home.”

“Okay. I’ll be looking forward to it.” He’s curious about the lengths Tim had gone to in following him at night anyway. He knows the Drakes are absent and neglectful, so he can only hope Tim hadn’t been putting himself in too much danger. 

Chapter Text

“Come on, I’ll show you your room for the night.” Dick stands up from the table, and Tim hurries to follow him. 

He’d sort of assumed they’d put him in some out of the way guest room where they wouldn’t even have to remember he’s there, since they’re only insisting he stay out of politeness, but Dick takes him upstairs and shows him a room in the same hall as his own and Bruce’s. Maybe they want to keep an eye on him?

“Alfred keeps plenty of spare rooms made up, so the bed’s made and the bathroom is stocked.” Dick says as he opens the door and steps in. The room is unremarkable, neat and impersonal like any guest room. 

Dick sits down on the bed and pats the space next to him, so Tim joins him, keeping a respectful distance between them.

“So.” He says. “Pictures, huh?” 

“Yes. I, um. I try to follow patrol routes and crime alerts to get pictures of you guys. Not you, specifically, as much, because you don’t live in Gotham so you aren’t here as often and I couldn’t go to Blüdhaven just for the night for pictures, but… yeah.” This is so embarrassing. Why does he have to ramble like that when he gets nervous? 

“That sounds pretty dangerous, but I’ll skip the lecture since you’re already going to hear it from Bruce when he finds out.” Dick says it teasingly, but Tim winces. He’s always sort of known Batman wouldn’t approve of Tim’s hobby, but he’d never expected to have to actually face that disapproval. 

“Sorry.” He says quietly, looking down at his hands where they rest in his lap.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, I’m familiar with dangerous teenage behavior. Comes with the job.” Dick shrugs. “Just like arguing with Batman does. You’ve already got both of those down, obviously.“

“I guess they help with night photography too.” Tim ventures, and Dick smiles. 

“Did you ever get caught? I don’t remember seeing you when I’ve been in town.”

“I never got recognized or caught with my camera out, but it got close a couple of times. There was this one time I thought a fire escape ladder was rusted to the track, but when I jumped up to grab onto it, it came unstuck and slid down really loudly, and I had to hide under this gross wet cardboard box when Batman came to see what the noise was.” He’d rolled his ankle when he’d stumbled after the ladder dropped him to the ground unexpectedly, but he leaves that part out. 

“I guess Ro-Jason technically caught me once, but it was right at the start of the night, so my camera was still in my backpack. I told him I was just on my way home after a late study group, and he insisted on walking me to the bus stop. I had to get on the bus and pay the fare since he was still standing there, so I ended up actually going home that night. He was really nice about it though.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Jason. Robin’s always been better with ordinary people than Batman, since it’s harder to be afraid of a kid in bright colors, but Jason came into the role knowing the dark side of Gotham in a way I didn’t at first. He was always looking out for people.”

“I saw that kind of thing too. I have a picture of him giving away the chili dog he’d just gotten to a kid who was about to try and steal from the hot dog cart.” It’s probably weird to be so sad that he’s gone when Tim didn’t even really know him, but he’d gotten attached over all those nights watching from a distance. “What- what was he like outside of Robin?”

“He liked reading, and helping Alfred in the kitchen. They’d bake and watch period dramas together. He liked school, even though I know other kids were mean to him sometimes. He could be really competitive with video games or board games, and he liked learning to work on cars. He sucked at pool.” Alarmingly, he pauses to sniff wetly. “I wish I’d known him better.” 

“Me too.” Tim admits quietly. “Sorry for dredging up painful memories.”

“Don’t be. It’s probably good for me to talk about him. Someone has to, he deserves for people to know about him. He was a good kid.” Dick gives him a sidelong look. “It’s too bad he never caught you properly. I think you’d have gotten along.” 

“Really?” 

“From what I’ve seen of you so far, yeah. He’d have loved to see you stand up to Bruce like that, and I think coming to track me down at the circus would’ve impressed him too.” 

Wow. That’s flattering to hear. 

“Oh!” Dick reaches into his pocket. “Actually, I have some pictures too. They’re probably pretty different from the kind you took, though.”

He scoots a little closer and leans in to show Tim an album on his phone. Where all of Tim’s pictures were taken at night when Jason is Robin, Dick’s are all of Jason as himself. They swipe through pictures of Jason smiling next to Dick in winter gear on a snowy mountain, skiing, drinking hot chocolate in a ski lodge, flipping the camera off while wearing a cardboard party hat and stuffing his face with cake, and plenty more. Dick tells him stories about some of them (“This was when we went to the beach and he told B he didn’t need him hovering and reminding him about sunscreen, and then he fell asleep and got burned. He looks like a lobster, right?”), and Tim adds his own little stories of stolen glimpses when something reminds him of one (“I saw him slip on ice and fall on his face while they were fighting Mr. Freeze, and then I heard him lie to Batman that his nose was bloodied because he got hit by one of Freeze’s henchmen.”). 

It makes him wish he’d come prepared and brought some of his own pictures to give to Dick in return. They’re not quite as personal, but he likes to think they’re pretty good work, and he’s decided that it’s like Dick said earlier. Jason deserves for someone to see the way Tim’s captured his heroics and joy. He’s never shown those pictures to anyone, because of all the secrets wrapped up in them, but when is he ever going to get a better chance to share them than this? He resolves to go print some out the next day, if Dick isn’t going to leave Gotham first thing in the morning.