Chapter Text
Timothy Jackson Drake despised galas, thank you very much. They were boring, and a waste. Of what? Everything. Time, effort, socialization, anything. There wasn’t a single thing he liked at these stupid galas. He didn't much care for the food, or the old ladies who insisted on pinching his cheeks. He was ten years old and much preferred his time spent following Batman and Robin around Gotham. Well, the second Robin. Dick Grayson had retired from Robin right after Tim figured it out almost two years ago. Glancing around the fancy ballroom, Tim admits that this gala had potential to be less awful. Afterall, this gala was being hosted by the Waynes. Which meant a chance to see his heroes up close.
"Timothy, make yourself useful and go stand with your father. The man he’s talking to prefers to sponsor family run businesses.” His mother instructs. Tim suppresses a sigh before walking over to his father. Time to act as if he has no idea what the adults are talking about, because according to his parents, ‘no one likes a know it all’. Standing next to his father, Tim slowly starts to let his mind drift as he plans his next week of following Batman and Robin. Monday should start them back on patrol pattern 3B, which was one of Tim’s favorites. It was also one of the easier routes to follow. Especially since the last time he followed them, they were on pattern 2A. A route that he didn’t always follow. 2A was one of the few patrol routes that Tim would rather sit and try to get pictures from a distance rather than actually follow his heroes. It was-
“Timothy!” His father snaps. Tim blinks, glancing up at his father and wincing apologetically at the look on his face.
“Sorry.” He apologizes, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the lack of people around his father.
“Apologies don’t cut it, son. It’s time for dinner and Mr. Wayne’s speech. You’ve already embarrassed your mother and I once tonight. Don’t make it twice.” He says sharply, turning on his heel and walking swiftly towards the table. Tim follows behind quickly, but still lags behind because his father’s legs are much longer than his own. Taking the seat next to his mother, Tim frowns at the plate in front of him. It looked pretty, but there was no way he could eat the assortment of shellfish. The last time he’d tried a bite of shrimp, he ended up with hives and a swollen throat. Luckily, Mrs. Mac was at the house at the time.
“Um, mother? I can’t eat this.” Tim says quietly. He tries (and fails) not to flinch at the look his mother gives him.
“Timothy Jackson Drake, I cannot believe you are acting this way!” She chastises him quietly. Tim frowns.
“But mother, I really can’t-”
“No. I don’t know where this sudden pickiness came from, but you’re going to eat every last bite on your plate or so help me Timothy, your father will deal with you.” She practically hisses, the anger clear on her face. Tim takes a deep breath. Maybe he’d grown out of the allergy? That was something that was completely possible, he’d heard of it before. Though, he wasn’t sure if one year was long enough to grow out of an allergy. Staring at the shellfish, he tries to block out the heated glare from his mother. Picking up his fork with a shaky hand, he takes a large bite of shrimp. His mother’s glare quickly disappears as she turns to talk to his father. The shellfish doesn’t taste bad, but he’s still terrified. Overly aware of the possibility of upsetting his father hanging over his head, Tim takes another bite. And another. Not even five minutes after he starts eating, Mr. Wayne (Batman!) calls the crowd to attention. Right as Tim’s face starts to itch. And breathing starts to get difficult. He coughs slightly, flinching back from his mother’s glare.
“Mother.” He says quietly, trying to get her attention.
“Timothy, stop talking. It’s rude.” She snaps. He feels heat flood his face and tries not to panic at the thought that the hives aren’t far behind. He didn’t want to disrupt Batman’s- Mr. Wayne’s- speech. He didn’t want to upset his parents, but he really did feel off. Maybe a year wasn’t long enough to grow out of his allergy. The tightness in his chest pushes Tim into a slight panic. He didn’t want to die at a stupid gala that he didn’t want to come to anyway. And he definitely didn’t want to die because of shrimp!
“Mother, please, I can’t-” He tries to say again. This time he turns to look at her face, but he quickly wishes he didn’t as her face morphs into one of horror. She shrieks and jumps out of her chair, moving to put his father between them.
“My god!” his father exclaims, also standing and backing away from him. Tim glances away from his parents, panic swelling in his chest as he realizes everyone was looking at him. Everyone at the gala. Including Mr. Wayne. If breathing was difficult before, it was suddenly impossible. Gasping with his mouth wide open does nothing, and before he can try to find a solution, he gives in to the black spots dancing across his vision.
---
An annoying beeping pulls Tim out of one of the best dreams he’d had in a while. He huffs and reaches a hand up to find whatever it was that was making his nose itch, but a hand intercepts his.
“You can’t mess with that, buddy.” A soft voice says. Tim drops his hand and his eyes immediately open, panic rushing through him. That wasn’t Mrs. Mac. Or either of his parents. The beeping quickens and Tim throws his hands over his ears and clenches his eyes shut once again, the suddenly loud and quick beeps making him want to crumble and hide. And he’d been sleeping so good, too.
“Tim? Buddy, it’s okay. You’re safe kiddo. Everything’s okay.” The voice says again, and vaguely Tim realizes that he recognizes it. Doing his best to slow his breathing, he feels his shoulders relax as the beeping slows down and gets quieter once again. He lets his hands fall off his ears before he cautiously opens his eyes, eyebrows furrowing at the face in front of him.
“Mr. Wayne?” He says, wincing slightly at the scratchy feeling in his throat. Mr. Wayne nods.
“Yeah, buddy. But you can call me Bruce.” He says, smiling softly. Tim frowns and glances around the white room. It was most definitely a hospital room, but why was he in a hospital room with Bruce Wayne?
“Am I dead?” He asks, flinching at the sudden laughter from across the room. Tim turns, eyes widening at the sight of Jason Todd- Robin- sitting in a chair.
“Jason-” Mr. Wayne starts, but the other boy cuts him off.
“Come on B, it’s funny. Kid has a sense of humor. Nice to meet ya kiddo, I’m Jason.” Jason says, standing and walking towards the bed. Tim nods slowly, still confused.
“I- apologize, but I’m not-” Tim pauses, trying to organize his thoughts. “Why are you here?” Mr. Wayne’s face hardens slightly and Tim winces. He shouldn’t have asked, he should’ve just stayed quiet and out of the way and now Mr. Wayne- Batman- was going to be mad at him and-
“Hey, take a breath Timbo.” Jason says softly, perching on the edge of his bed. “You had an allergic reaction at the gala last night-”
“Last night!”
“Yeah. It was really bad buddy, and you didn’t have an epipen or anything. So you had to come to the hospital, but your parents-” Jason pauses, frowning. “Anyway, B and I volunteered to come with you.” Tim’s shoulders fall as he shrinks in on himself.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a bother, I would’ve been okay by myself.” He says quietly. Batman and Robin had went with him to the hospital. Did that mean they skipped patrol? What if all of the Rogues broke out of Arkham because Batman and Robin were too busy watching some stupid kid?
“Tim, you are not a bother.” Mr. Wayne says firmly. “Your parents had to leave for business, and we didn’t want you to wake up alone.” Tim frowns.
“Why?” He asks. Mr. Wayne sighs.
“I’m not sure. They mentioned a new dig site-”
“No. Why didn’t you want me to wake up alone? That’s how most people wake up, right?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Mr. Wayne frowns.
“Tim, you’re in a hospital after having a medical emergency. No one should ever wake up alone after something like that.” He says. Tim still sighs.
“I’m still really sorry for taking up your time. I should’ve thought of a way to make it look like I ate the shrimp instead of actually eating it.” Tim says, mind racing with a million different things he could’ve done, instead of eating the shrimp and taking up Batman and Robin’s time. Jason frowns.
“Do you- Kid, did you know that you were allergic to shrimp?” He asks incredulously. Tim winces.
“Tim, buddy, can you tell me why you ate something you were allergic to even though you didn’t have an epipen?” Mr. Wayne asks, a slight edge in his otherwise soft voice. Tim recognized it. It was the voice he’d heard Batman use with the bruised kids in Crime Alley. But Tim wasn’t hurt, not anymore. So why was he acting like that?
“I- Mother told me to.” He says, immediately flinching back at the furious expression on Mr. Wayne’s face. “I’m sorry.”
“Tim, you have nothing to be sorry for. Your mother-” He starts, but Tim interrupts him.
“It wasn’t her fault! Her and dad weren’t around when I had a reaction last time, just Mrs. Mac. Mom just thought I was being picky last night and trying to cause a scene and I didn’t want to cause any more problems so I thought maybe I’d grown out of the allergy cause I read that that can happen sometimes and so I thought I could try and eat it and last time it wasn’t this bad so- I’m sorry.” Tim stops rambling, instead choosing to pick up the blanket and squeeze it tightly. He wouldn’t cry- he was ten years old for crying out loud! Practically an adult.
“Tim, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Mr. Wayne tries to say again, but Tim just shakes his head. He made a mistake, it was all his fault, and now Mr. Wayne was mad at him and his parents and-
“How’d you like to have a sleepover, Timbo?” Jason asks suddenly, yanking Tim from his thoughts. Tim freezes and blinks at him. Robin was asking him to…hang out? Why?
“What?” He asks, eyes wide. Jason shrugs.
“You seem like a cool enough kid. And you probably shouldn’t be alone tonight after an allergic reaction like that.” He says. Excitement shoots through him, until he realizes- he can’t. What’re the odds that Batman and Robin go on patrol if they have some lame kid staying at their house? He can’t risk Gotham exploding because he wants to be selfish and have a sleepover.
“Oh. Uh, well, I probably shouldn’t-” He starts to say, but Mr. Wayne shakes his head.
“Nonsense. It’s just one night, Tim. And I doubt the doctors will let you leave unless they know you’ll be monitored at least one more night. I’m sure we could even convince Alfred to let you boys order pizza.” He says, and Tim feels his resolve weakening. He knew he’d hate himself for it later (it was already creeping up), but it was also nice not being alone. Even if they were only choosing to be around him because they felt sorry for him. Pretending that someone cares about you feels nicer than being alone.
“Just one night.” Tim finally says, his voice quiet. Jason cheers and immediately launches into a rant of all of the movies they could watch. It was just a temporary arrangement. Surely it wouldn’t hurt anything.