Chapter Text
Conner kept his arm tightly wound around Tim’s shoulders as they tried to leave the restaurant, pushing through the crowds of reporters and paparazzi. Tim used his hand, fisted around his phone, to cover his face from the onslaught of flashing lights.
“Tim, Tim, how long have you two been together?” One of the reporters shouted, shoving the reporting end of his phone towards Tim’s face.
“Has this affected your position at Wayne Enterprise?” Another asked loudly.
“Does Bruce know you’re a faggot?” Despite Conner’s strength, he hadn’t anticipated Tim’s fist to go flying, so he didn’t have a chance to pull him back. The report fell back, his recorder shattering against the ground like Tim’s phone within his tight hand. Conner quickly covered Tim’s hand before anyone could get a photo of the blood seeping between his fingers.
Tim Drake-Wayne Attacks Reporter
Tim kept his gaze away from Bruce’s as the older man dropped the paper in front of him. He didn’t need to look at it, he had already read the very one-sided article now on Bruce's desk, plus the other two reports in the Gotham Weekly, and Vicky Vale’s personal take on the whole thing. Tim remained quiet, trapped in his guardian’s office, as he waited for him to speak.
“This isn’t like you, Tim.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I told you; you should have waited a little longer for your announcement.” Announcement . Tim looked at Bruce sharply.
“It’s not my fault. He was harassing me and Conner.”
“And I understand that, which is why…” Bruce pressed down on his phone and asked his assistant to send someone in. “Tim, this Jason Todd.” The man that walked in was tall and dressed in a plain suit, he had serious brows and bright aquamarine eyes. Tim couldn’t help the glare he shot at the man, he could already tell where this was going. “Jason’s going to be your bodyguard for the next couple of months, he-”
“You mean my babysitter.” Tim corrected. Bruce thought he needed to be watched, because no matter how many times Damian threatened murder, Tim couldn’t get away with a raised voice without consequences.
“Tim, please, this is for your safety.” Bruce gestured at Tim’s bandaged hand; Conner had wanted them to go to the hospital, but Tim had demanded they go to the manor instead. Alfred had tutted and cooed at him like he was a baby, but at least he didn’t have to worry about reporters sneaking into a hospital.
“Dad, it was one incident, it’s not going to happen again.” He tried to reason.
“Clark is concerned for Conner’s safety.” Something about that didn’t feel right to him; Conner was a strong guy, and he went to the gym all the time, he could even lift Tim without breaking a sweat. Tim looked away instead of arguing.
“Whatever. Fine. I have paperwork to do.” He did actually have paperwork to do, and emails, and homework, and intern interviews, but he also just wanted to get out of Bruce’s office. Bruce waved his hand, releasing Tim, who quickly turned on his heels to leave. “Come on then.” He mumbled to his new bodyguard.
When they reached Tim’s office, the bodyguard opened the door before Tim could, checked inside quickly, then stepped aside without a word.
“I doubt someone’s going to be hiding in my office to kill me for being gay; I can open my own doors.”
“Sorry,” He replied, his voice deep and probably commanding when it needed to be. Tim nodded awkwardly before he sat at his desk.
While Bruce was the CEO of Wayne Enterprise, he was always too busy or on trips to actually act like the CEO, which is why Tim was left juggling school and running a billion-dollar company before his twenties. The workload was a natural state for him, though; his dad had always wanted him to take over Drake Industries, before it was consumed by Wayne Enterprise, so he didn't have much room to complain.
Tim sighed while his laptop started up, glancing at the door. The bodyguard had stayed on the other side, leaving Tim alone in his office. Without thinking, Tim left his desk to poke his head outside.
“You can sit down… Please.” The bodyguard looked at him for a moment before complying and taking up the seat closest to the door. “What do I call you? Jason? Todd? Mr Bodyguard?”
“Jason is fine, Sir.” Tim cringed
“Oh my god, don’t call me sir. I’m nineteen; Tim is also fine.” Jason replied with a small smile and nod. Tim mumbled an awkward ‘okay’ then hid back behind the door.
The rest of his afternoon was filled with silence, except for the occasional phone call. He finished three of his college assignments and interviewed two interns. Tim groaned unintentionally when Conner called him in the middle of a video call with one of the accounts. He’d quickly hung up without answering, telling himself he'd call back in an hour.
At 5pm, Bruce stopped by his office to tell Tim that he was done for the day and wouldn’t be home for dinner. Tim nodded but didn’t mention he had no intention of going to the manor. At 6pm, Tim was halfway through his assignment on globalisation, and he could sense Jason was still outside his office, probably annoyed at his new boss’s work ethic.
“You can go, y’know? I don’t know when I’ll finish and I usually stay late.” Tim said when he opened the office door, finding Jason in the same position as before.
“Mr Wayne wants me to stay with you until you go home.”
“No one’s going to break into the building, I’m not that important.”
“Mr Wayne thinks otherwise.” Tim groaned and left without another word. He packed up his papers and laptop before meeting Jason outside again.
“Okay, let’s go.” Jason stood and followed Tim to the elevator. Tim finally looked at his phone as they descended.
Kon: Can we talk?
Tim: I can call you when I get home?
Kon: In person
Tim sighed anxiously.
Tim: Can you come by WE tomoz?
Kon: Can’t we just go out for lunch?
Tim: Because that went well last time
Kon: Tim…
Tim: Sorry. Yeah, I’ll meet you at Coffee Hub?
Kon: Cool.
“He put a full stop.” Tim mumbled to himself.
“Hm?”
“Oh, nothing, my boyfriend’s just acting weird.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“I’d have to be in paradise first.” The elevator opened, and Tim felt like he could suddenly breathe again. “Do you have to walk me to my car?”
“Yes.” He sighed as they wordlessly walked to Tim’s car. On the way he saw a small black car, modern and sleek, it was like the vehicle version of Jason. Tim pulled out his keys.
“Okay, thanks for babysitting, sorry you’re stuck with me.” Jason just hummed a neutral reply. Clearly a man of many words. “Great. Bye.” Tim quickly sat down and started the engine. Satisfied, Jason stepped away and walked to his own car. Tim breathed a sigh of relief before he pulled out of the garage and sped home. He was in desperate need of a coffee, since Bruce had been trying to lower Tim’s caffeine intake it was almost impossible to find any in the building. He’d had to resort to small hidden sachets in his office.
Tim moaned as the caffeine entered his bloodstream, the woman at the drive-through had hesitated to comply with his request for five shots but one flash of the Timothy Drake-Wayne smile and she had quickly given in. Now he was curled up on his couch, binge-watching Stranger Things again. He had redressed his hand, per Alfred’s instructions, and was now sulking with coffee and reheated pizza. At the manor, everyone advocated for healthy eating and regular exercise, but hidden in his apartment, two-day-old pizza was a very valid meal choice.
Tim had moved out the second he was eighteen, he and Stephanie had talked about moving in together for company, but she’d always hesitated, always had some vague excuse for not wanting to in the end. His apartment gave him space from his family; he loved them, of course, but one could only tolerate them for so long. Damian never failed to give him a headache.
Tim sighed for the millionth time that day and looked at his phone, staring at Conner’s last text.
Kon: Cool.
Conner had once mentioned that his friends had had to teach him ‘texting etiquette’, which Tim had thought was weird because they’d been seventeen at the time and what teenager doesn’t know texting etiquette? But did the full stop mean he was mad at Tim? Not knowing only made him more anxious.
Feeling a headache starting, Tim turned off the TV and chucked his dishes in the sink before heading to bed. He’d get a lecture about overworking himself or being irresponsible if he left his apartment half-asleep tomorrow, whether the telling-off would come from Bruce or Conner, he wasn’t sure. He glanced at his phone one last time before he set his alarm and rolled over to sleep.