Chapter Text
“Are you okay, Dick?” He hears from his left once Bruce leaves, and Dick turns to the tiny presence he’d forgotten was there when they’d started up again, screaming until they completely lost the point they’d started on to begin with.
Tim looks nervous underneath his forced calm exterior, and Dick blows out a breath and ruffles his hair almost apologetically, smiles down at the sincere concern on his kid brother’s face.
“All good, Timmy. Sorry you had to see that.” He says softly, almost coos at how concerned Tim looks. “Bruce is just –“
He cuts himself off, hand still lingering in Tim’s soft hair, and just pulls him into a hug, smiling at the little squeak that makes its way out.
Tim only lets himself blink when Bruce is already up the stairs and out of sight, lets the tension in his shoulders drop in the ringing silence, the booming voice still echoing in his ears.
“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Damian snaps from behind him, where he’s stood quietly through Bruce’s entire tirade, and it lacks its usual sneering edge.
Tim sighs, throws down the offending case report on the seat in front of the giant screen, and makes his way to the showers without looking back.
“Tim, did you not give the Franco file to Bruce? He’s blowing up my phone asking for it.”
“Yeah, Dick, I tried, he doesn’t think the cartel links are fleshed out enough, wants more details.”
The silence on the other end is stony, and Tim gives into the urge to close his eyes and quietly rest his forehead on his desk, phone held to his ear.
“We worked for weeks on that.” I worked for weeks on that, Dick doesn’t say, adamant as he’s been to work the case with Tim.
“I know.” Tim says blankly, feels his eye twitch against the cool glass. “He didn’t really want to listen. We can work on it tonight if you’re around.”
“I’m staying the fuck out of Gotham until he gets his head out of his ass.” Dick spits out, and Tim can almost imagine him pacing the length of his apartment, working himself up at Bruce’s unimaginable offense. “He’s such a righteous ass sometimes, like he just can’t think I might know what I’m doing, like –“
Tim nods along even though Dick can’t see him, waves his secretary off when she pokes her head in with what is clearly some kind of reminder, and sits back to listen.
“Jesus, Dick, get your head out of your ass and just talk to him. Maybe he’s right, we didn’t really spend a lot of time looking at the cartel and that’s where the last one fell apart!”
Dick glares up at the smoggy sky, hair hanging off the edge of the roof he’s laying back on, Nightwing suit sticky against his skin in the frankly disgusting weather that does nothing for his mood, running Tim’s parting words on the phone over and over in his head.
He knows he shouldn’t let himself get so aggravated, but he fights with Bruce and it’s like all logic flies out of his head and every piece of anger he tries so hard to keep in check just comes bursting out of him like fire, and Tim –
He loves the kid but he almost wants to shake him sometimes, yell at him to just stop playing all sides and drop the holier than thou tone he seems to adopt, like he’s just so much smarter than Dick and can’t hold it in anymore.
A scream off in the distance grabs his attention, and he’s up and off before it even trails off.
“So, you and goldie are beefing huh? Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Jason.” Tim sighs, feels the dull throb in his temple appear almost as unexpectedly as the older man had out of thin air.
“Oh come on, for once I’m not involved. I’m having a good time with this.”
“Jason. I will literally kill someone in front of you if you’ll drop it and fuck off.”
Jason drops down next to him, and Tim just ignores him, already fully past the idea that Jason would for once take mercy on him and not aggravate the shit out of him.
“You guys sure turn into a real dramatic bunch when you’re fighting.”
“Jase.” Tim bites out. “If you don’t need anything from me, can you just leave? Go shoot some people in the face, I don’t care – I’ll owe you a favor, even, I just don’t want to do this with you for your fucking entertainment. I wanted five minutes up here, alone and quiet, before I finish patrol.”
Jason claps a hand on his shoulder, and Tim can almost feel the shit eating grin he knows is being thrown his way, resists the urge to shrug it off.
“No.” Jason says almost happily, then ruffles the shit out of his hair, and Tim does smack it away that time.
“Okay, I’m not that much of a shithead, relax. Just – you looked real worn down. Spill to Dr. Jason, babybird, I’m here to listen.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Too bad. I’m curious, and you know I won’t let this go until you tell me.” He holds out a gloved palm.
Tim blows out a breath through his teeth, and takes the offered starburst. It’s even pink, his favorite.
“It’s nothing.” He says eventually. “Just Dick and Bruce flinging arsenic in the air and letting us all choke on it.”
“Oh the moms are fighting? Sounds about right, they were overdue.”
Tim thinks he would have laughed at that a few months ago, but now –
“I’m sure it’s funny when you’re not having to deal with it.” Tim snaps, and Jason rolls his eyes.
“Since when do you let the two of them get to you?”
He shrugs, chews his starburst and swings his feet against the edge of the roof.
Since he gave up his own space at Bruce’s insistence and left himself with nowhere to go
Since he realized he’s spent half a decade listening to the same back and forth
Since he saw Damian’s face and realized nobody had ever – not for him –
He clamps down the thought before it goes any further, ignores Jason’s eyes boring into the side of his head. He suddenly doesn’t want to do this at all, wants to go back to being content staring thoughtlessly over Gothams wretched rooftops.
“Want my advice, Timbo?” Jason says, for once somehow taking the hint and pulling himself to his feet. Tim tamps down the little flare of shame and looks up at his older brother.
Jason sighs, ruffles his hair again carelessly, and it’s almost comforting this time. “Those two are gonna have issues until the end of fucking time, but you can’t –“
Another sigh, edges bleeding with frustration and Tim has a flash of a tiny Jason witnessing a Bruce and Dick blowout, and feels himself soften despite his annoyance.
“You can’t try fix em. There’s no point taking it on your shoulders, because they’re grown fucking men, and until they wanna get it together, you worrying about it ain’t gonna do shit.”
Jason doesn’t wait for him to respond, just nods once and swings off, and Tim sits there and wonders if he even realizes the irony of his advice.
“Tim, love of mine forever, can’t you just talk to him?” Stephanie wheedles, upside down on her bed while Tim tries to fix her recently fried laptop, the snick of his tools strangely soothing as she rants about Bruce.
“I think this is broken for good, Steph.” Tim says, and he sounds so tired and wary that Stephanie has to glance over at him, but he’s focused on the now broken apart laptop on the floor in front of him, face blank as he works.
“Are you even listening to me?” Steph whines, sliding to the floor like a toddler and looking up at him sadly. “Bruce keeps snapping at me. Like, worse than usual. I swear, you fall off one fire escape –“
That gets his attention, and he looks at her with concern, frown deep on his face, screwdriver still lost in the depths of her doomed laptop. “You fell off – are you okay?”
Stephanie rolls her eyes and launches back into her story.
“Are you okay, Dick?” Tim asks from behind him after Bruce leaves, and the concern in his voice does Dick a fat lot of good now.
“Fine.” Dick snaps, feels both Tim and Damian’s eyes on him as he storms over to his bike without turning back. “Next time you wanna stand there and be useless, Tim, don’t pretend you care after.”
“Why is Grayson angry?” Tim looks up at Damian lingering at the open door of his room, looking very much like he doesn’t want to be there but just couldn’t help himself. The at us that’s unspoken is very loud in the air.
“He’s – “ Tim sighs, rubs away the lingering soreness in his tired eyes, his laptop bright against them as he looks back. “Him and Bruce are just in one of their moods. He’ll get over it.”
Damian looks back at him unconvinced, and Tim realizes Damian has never seen one of the drawn out, intense conflicts between the two of them, and especially not one that had been about him. He almost winces at how stupid Dick and Bruce had to be to fight over Damian's care in the cave, where the kid would obviously find a way to listen in.
"Hey." Tim says, closes his laptop and schools his voice into something as soothing as he can in the face of Damian looking so uncertain - it makes him look way too young. "It'll be okay. I'll fix it."
He's only thirteen, a voice in his head screams, and he completely ignores the depth of it as he holds his arms open, and Damian actually walks into them without protest.
“Why would you go in alone? Are you fucking insane?” Tim snaps at him, pulling the bullet out of his arm with more force than necessary, and Dick pushes him away with a hiss.
“I had it handled –“
“You got shot. If I hadn’t been close by, no one would have gotten to you in time! Jesus, Dick!”
“I didn’t need you to interfere, Tim – “
“Interfere?” Tim snaps back, disbelieving even as he yanks Dick’s arm back and starts up his stitches with his hand steady as ever. “You pulled me into the case! And then you decide to look into the cartel on your own, and me saving your ass is interfering?”
Dick doesn’t say anything, and neither does Tim, and the stitches go in in silence. The second Tim ties off the thread, Dick is snatching his arm back.
“Just go make your report to B, Tim. Don’t leave out anything. Make sure he knows just how badly I fucked up –“
“Jesus, Dick, grow up. Just take the fucking save and stop acting like a child.”
“Fuck off, Tim. I didn’t ask you to come here, and I don’t fucking need you here running surveillance for B or whatever the hell you’re doing in Bludhaven in the first place –“
“I’m here for you! Bruce doesn’t even know I’m here, Dick, I came here to talk to you because you haven’t been answering my goddamned texts –“
“I didn’t ask you to! I’m not a fucking child, I’ve been doing this almost as long as you’ve been alive, and I don’t need you holding my hand for a recon mission I’ve done a million times –“
“With backup! And not against the fucking cartel. Who also shot you –“
Tim stops and takes a deep breath. “Dick. I get that you’re mad at B, but –“
“Get out, Tim. Just go back home.”
“I don’t think I should leave you alone –“
“I don’t want you here, Tim! What is so hard to understand?”
Tim glares back at him, looks almost as furious as he feels, arms stiff like he’s just barely holding himself back from launching at him. Good, Dick thinks hysterically, almost wants Tim to lunge at him and get a couple of hits in, so at least he would have a reason –
“I don’t care if you want me here, you need me here –“
“Don’t tell me what I fucking need.” Dick snaps, even as he feels dizzy from the blood loss. “I don’t need you to take care of me -“
“No?” Tim yells, his voice echoing around his tiny apartment, and Dick barely dodges the first aid kit he launches at his head. “Great! That’s fucking great, Dick! I’ve only been doing it the entire fucking time I’ve known you!”
That’s – not what Dick had expected. “What?”
“Fuck you, Dick! I’m so sick of this martyr shit you pull on me all the fucking time –“
“What are you even talking about? What does this have to do with anything –“
“This!” Tim yells, gesturing wildly between them. “You fighting with B like you’re the only fucking one he pisses off, like the rest of us couldn’t possibly know what it feels like, and then you leave! You fuck off to your own goddamn city and the rest of us have to pick up the pieces –“
“You don’t know anything, Tim. You – you don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Because I couldn’t possibly know. I’ve never been fucking Robin, or gotten ripped to shreds by him for no goddamned reason, and like the two of you don’t drag me into the middle every fucking time! It’s every fucking month with this bullshit, Dick, and I’m always caught in the middle, and then both of you turn around and blame me for it!”
“God, and now you’re dragging Damian into it. He’s just a fucking kid –“
“Tim.” Dick seethes out. “You have nothing to do with Damian’s care. You don’t even like being in the same room as him."
“That doesn’t mean I want him to – “ Tim seems to physically cut himself off, and a split second later, he’s stormed off into the bathroom, door slamming shut behind him, and Dick collapses onto his couch, brain too tired to figure out what he’s missing.
Tim’s still there when Dick wakes up from sunlight streaming onto his face where he’d passed out on his couch – he’s sitting on his counter, still in full uniform, eyes red and unfocused as he stares down at what looks like some very soggy cereal.
“Did you not sleep?” Dick rasps out, unsteadily making his way over and feeling his forehead, even though there’s no way Tim’s sick.
“I did.” He replies, clearly lying, takes a bite of soggy cereal and gets up without looking at Dick at all and moves towards the window.
“Tim –“
“Don’t.” Tim snaps, a hard edge to his voice, looks so exhausted that Dick feels his chest hollow a bit. “Just talk to Bruce. For Damian’s sake. Please.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before he's gone.
“Great job on the Franco intel, Tim. Dick said you were a great help.” Bruce says, feels lighter than he has in weeks as he comes up where Tim is sitting and working on the main computer. He sees him tense up, almost imperceptibly.
“He had it handled” is all Tim says, voice carefully casual as he looks up at him, blue eyes boring into his. “Did you two talk?”
Bruce smiles – nothing gets past Tim.
“Yes. Just a disagreement.” He claps his son on the shoulder. “Nothing to worry yourself about.”
There’s a second of silence before Tim lets out a very bitter laugh and leaves without a word.
“Hey Red.” Dick says cheerfully as he drops down into the alley behind him, holding a bag with something Tim is too tired to be curious about. "Quiet night?"
Tim shrugs, looking fully focused on the blood soaked piece of fabric he's looking at under the bright light from his glove.
"Well, thanks for having my back on the Franco case. B's really happy with how it turned out."
Silence.
"Everything okay, Tim?"
Tim gives Dick what he knows is a very blank look under his domino, clocks the bat shaped shadow waiting on the roof across from them. "All good. Did you need anything else?"
Dick claps him on the back, gives him a serene smile, hands over the bag which contains what Tim now recognizes as Stephs broken laptop.
“Nope. Hey, I tried to look into this for you but I couldn’t make it work, so I ordered her a new one. You want to hold on to this?”
Tim just nods, and then Nightwing is gone, grappled off behind Batman without another word.
The original dynamic duo.
A job well done once again, Tim thinks, counts to one hundred and twenty, throws the laptop on the ground and smashes it with his bo staff into as many pieces as he can before he leaves the alley.