Archive of Our Own

Tim Drake has had his share of mind-shattering adventures.

It’s a perk of the job, he’d say, and his siblings would laugh along. Dangerous situations and crazy interactions were a daily occurrence. Dimension travel? Always a bit of fun. Magic demons from literal hell? A typical Tuesday. Alien invasion? Sure. Time travel? On the table.

So, explain to him, why he was still surprised when he woke up with a killer headache in a body that felt so familiar yet so… not.

His last clear memory was a panicked voice in his ear, crackling over the comm.

Red Robin, it’d said, do you read me?

He remembered nodding, despite the voice, Dick, his mind supplied, not being anywhere near him. He’d wanted to reply; yes, I read you. What’s the issue?

Clearly, the issue had been him, considering whatever he was hit with ended up with him knocked out. Which was never good in this particular line of work. Or any line of work, really. But especially not theirs.

Groaning, he rose from the bed he was now in, memories flickering in the back of his head. Obviously, he’d lost consciousness at some point after Nightwing’s communication. Nightwing, who was probably panicking right this moment.

Assess the situation, Bruce’s voice ebbed at him, somewhere in the crevices of his brain, training engrained in him. Looking around the room, he was hit with an unwelcome wave of recognition.

It was his room.

But not his room.

Not his Nest, back in the Manor. Not his comfortable, tech-equipped and neatly messy, as Jason had called it, room, in the family wing of the large house.

This was his room, back in the Drake residence. Pristine and clean, almost like no one lived here.

Which, really, wasn’t far from the truth.

He hadn’t been back here in years. But now, here he was, thrust into a memory he’d rather never have relived.

His eyes landed on the few photos scattered on the room floor, like they’d fallen out of something. One of his albums, probably. He’d never been this careless with his photos, but oh well.

Time travel, then. Possibly dimension travel?

Tim exhaled, running an exhausted hand through his hair. Shorter than usual. Huh. Another point towards time travel. But what time?

“Why’s it always gotta be me,” he complained, to no one in particular. “Make someone else deal with time travel, for once.”

Grumbling under his breath, he stood up from the bed, eyes landing on the calendar he remembered hanging up. It didn’t fit the muted colours of the room at all, a striking array of neon colours against the dull beige of the walls. It brought an odd smile to his face.

Which promptly disappeared. This calendar was his favourite, yes, but it was also the year that–

His eyes snapped back to the photos on the floor. Photos of Batman, photos of Robin.

Of Jason’s Robin.

“Shit,” he hissed eloquently, whipping back around to the calendar, “shit, shit, shit.”

Today was–

His blood ran cold.

April 27th.

April 27th, eight years ago.

He didn’t get to think about anything else before his feet were rushing him towards the window on instinct. He stumbled through his first few strides, cursing the living hell out of his young, thirteen-year-old body.

He pried the window wide open before cursing again, much louder this time. His bedroom was on the top floor, far too high up for Tim Drake, thirteen, to jump. He wasn’t Red Robin, right now. Hell, he wasn’t even Robin yet. He had no equipment, no muscle memory from training, nothing. He couldn’t just jump out the window.

“What a scam, honestly,” he groaned before turning on his heel and bolting out the door.

Getting to Wayne Manor took Tim much longer than it should’ve, considering it was next door. Another reason to blame this untrained and flimsy body of his.

How did he even keep up with Batman and Robin with this kind of stamina? And carrying a camera?

Filing that thought for later and heaving one last deep breath, he took in the huge front door of his– future– home. God, it was odd not to just waltz in.

Well, here goes nothing.

He raised a fist and knocked on the door, hard, a solid three times. He heard footsteps approaching, light ones he quickly identified as Alfred’s, and his back straightened almost instinctively.

Then the door opened, and there the older man was, in all his butler glory.

Tim couldn’t help it, he sagged just a little in relief. A familiar face was always nice.

The relief, of course, was short-lived. Because Tim can’t have nice things.

“And who might you be, young Sir?” Alfred asked with a tight smile. To anyone else, this was a standard polite greeting. But Tim knew what this specific tone meant. Alfred was cautious, suspicious.

Which was fair, but it still kind of hurt to see the lack of familiarity in his pseudo-grandfather’s eyes.

“Timothy Drake, sir,” he answered with all the confidence his prepubescent voice could muster. When Alfred still seemed a bit lost, he added: “I live next door.”

He said this with a nod towards the Drake residence as if it proved something. Alfred’s gaze scanned him and suddenly Tim felt a lot smaller– and it wasn’t because he literally was.

He was suddenly glad he never got the brunt of Alfred’s distrusting gaze back when he’d originally met his now-family. It was cold.

After a few moments of terse silence, Alfred seemed satisfied with Tim’s answer and nodded. His posture relaxed slightly, very slightly, and if Tim was unfamiliar with the kind butler, he would’ve missed it. But he didn’t, and it brought a breath out of him he barely realised he was holding.

“Very well,” Alfred said, stepping aside to let Tim in. “Can I help you, Sir Timothy?”

Tim swallowed and stepped inside. “Just Tim is fine,” he said as the door closed behind him. “Timothy is a mouthful.”

Alfred nodded again, stepping back into Tim’s field of view. “Sir Tim, then. Can I help you?”

And, well, Tim didn’t really think this far. How was he to convince Alfred that Jason was planning to run away, to Ethiopia, and that he was going to die there? It sounded absurd even in his own mind.

It was a bit pathetic, to be honest. Tim has struck fear into entire boards of directors. He’s been running a multi-million company for the past two years. He’s a crime-fighting vigilante. But he can’t explain himself to a past version of his butler.

He shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, trying to find a response that sounded slightly less absurd than I’m from the future and your grandchild is going to die today.

Tim didn’t get to come up with one, though, because Jason chose that moment to come running down the stairs.

“Who’s at the door, Alfie?” The younger Jason called, and Tim winced at just how young he sounded. His Jason’s voice was significantly deeper, more rough than childlike.

This Jason, though, had a voice that brightly echoed around the entire entrance hall. Tim didn’t know how to feel about that. He vaguely registered Alfred’s light reprimand of please don’t run on the stairs, Master Jason, but paid it no mind.

As soon as Jason stepped into view, Tim had to physically restrain himself from gasping. He’d forgotten just how small his older brother was before he died. By the side glance he received, Alfred definitely noticed, but Tim ignored him for now.

Tim locked eyes with the chipper boy of fifteen, a small smile gracing his face as he stared into eyes that were bright blue and full of life.

He opened his mouth to say something but Jason beat him to it, burning everything he thought he knew about his situation to the ground.

“Tim?”

Tim frowned slightly and he saw Alfred tilt his head minutely. Jason wouldn’t know Tim’s name at this point in time, would he? He shouldn’t. They hadn’t officially met, well, ever. Sure, he’d followed Jason as Robin and he’d watched Jason at some official socialite events, but they’d never met.

Jason stared at him for a few more seconds with an expression Tim couldn’t quite place before he cleared his throat.

“I mean, Timothy Drake, right? The neighbour’s kid?” He said, tilting his head as his gaze scanned Tim from head to toe.

Tim nodded quickly in response and Jason brightened. He grinned widely at Tim, a genuine smile that Tim had seen on his own big brother before. It made something in his chest twist.

“Well, what’re ya doin’ just standin’ there in the hall? C’mon, don’t be a wet rag,” Jason announced as he turned around and walked towards the kitchen, waving to follow him. Tim snorted and spared a glance at Alfred, who was watching Jason with a slightly puzzled expression. Tim was gone by the time his gaze turned to face his direction.

He ran a little to catch up to Jason, matching the boy’s strides. Jason glanced at him when he appeared at his side and god, this was his brother.

“So what’cha doin’ ‘round here, Timmy?” Jason asked as they reached the kitchen, gesturing to the stools around the island for Tim to take a seat. Tim did so, pretending that the nickname didn’t make his breath hitch. Jason opted to sit on the counter, facing Tim. “Your parents ain’t gonna be worried about you?”

Tim shook his head, gaze falling momentarily. “They won’t care,” he answered, possibly a little too honestly. “Don’t worry about it. But Jason…”

He trailed off, once again not sure where to go from there. How do you tell a fifteen-year-old kid that he’s going to die if he goes to find his birth mother?

And the worst part was, Tim knew Jason already had the trip planned. He would leave soon, run away, and Bruce wouldn’t be a second wiser. Jason had explained his old plan to him one time when they were alone in the Manor watching old movies. They’d laughed, then, at the absurdity, because it was well and done and over.

Now it was the present reality, and it was not quite as bitterly funny anymore. Jason, young and alive and breathing, was looking at him, expectant. When Tim still didn’t say anything, Jason did.

“Yeah? Do I have somethin’ on my face?”

Tim steeled his expression. He had to do this. If– if a version of Jason could be saved, then he’d do anything. He swallowed down the possible tears and braced for the worst.

“Okay, this is going to sound extremely absurd and I’m so sorry,” he blurted, words spilling like a leaky faucet. He took a deep breath, clasping his hands tightly in front of him as he stared at Jason, who was now watching him curiously. “I know you’re planning to run. To Ethiopia. To find your mom. But Jason you can’t. You just can’t, please, it’s not worth it. If you go– if you trust that woman, you will– you will–”

His voice broke, against his every will. His eyes burned as tears threatened to fill them, but he ploughed on. He had to say this, even if it was cruel.

“You’ll die. If you go to Ethiopia you will die, and I can’t tell you how I know this but you have to trust me, Jay, please. Please don’t go. Stay here, stay home, stay right here. Please.”

He didn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he squeezed them closed even tighter. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Jason wasn’t even breathing, and Tim wasn’t faring any better. He braced for the disbelief, the anger, the confusion.

What he got instead was laughter.

Loud, boisterous, and bright laughter.

He pried his eyes open, watching as Jason wheezed on the countertop. He couldn’t believe his own senses. That was… unexpected. Who reacted to news of their own death like that?

Jason, his mind supplied traitorously, Jason would.

Still, it was a bit odd.

Tim narrowed his eyes further as Jason struggled to catch his breath, opting to hop off the counter and lean on it instead.

“Oh, man,” Jason breathed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Should’ve guessed, honestly, the moment I saw ya. What other reason would ya have had to come over here at this age?”

Tim’s frown deepened momentarily before Jason’s full sentence registered. At this age.

“No,” he denied automatically, his entire lung capacity leaving him in one fell swoop.

Jason grinned at him, almost predatory. It was crooked in a way only Jason’s could be.

Tim gaped. “Jay?”

“‘Sup, double R. One hell of a meetin’ this is, huh?”

Tim wasn’t ashamed of his next moves. He might’ve been, if this was any other situation, but not after the last half hour he’d had. The last half hour of pure confusion and panic. He practically leapt off the stool he’d been on, jumping straight at his brother.

And his breath hitched again because this was his brother. This was Jay. His big brother and his biggest pain the backside all in one. He wasn’t alone.

Jason easily caught him, burying Tim in his arms. It wasn’t quite the same, with Jason no longer being built like a bus, but it was so familiar. So comforting. Tim almost cried then and there.

He didn’t realise just how hard he was clinging until Jason laughed, chest vibrating under Tim’s ear.

“Kinda squeezing me there, little bird. Happy to see ya too, but I need ‘ta breathe,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair. Tim reluctantly loosened his grip but made no move to leave his brother’s arms. Jason didn’t seem to care much, happily letting Tim cling to him without teasing.

After a few moments, Tim spoke into Jason’s shirt. “Is anyone else here?”

The is Bruce? Went unsaid, but Jason seemed to have heard it anyway.

“The old man ain’t,” Jason confirmed, shaking his head. “At least I don’t think so. He didn’t panic or shut down when he saw me, so.”

Tim nodded. That was a fair enough assessment, he supposed. Bruce would definitely have some kind of meltdown if he was faced with a fifteen-year-old Jason Todd.

“Alfred’s out too,” Tim said, pulling out of the hug to face Jay. “He didn’t recognise me at all.”

Jason shrugged. “Wasn’t really expectin’ Alfie to be here, but would’ve been nice.”

Tim chuckled. “Yeah, I guess. Having your shotgun-wielding grandfather in the past with you is always comforting.”

Jason laughed in response and Tim’s chest lightened significantly. It was Jay.

“Well,” Tim said, sidestepping Jason and hopping on the counter himself, now. “What about Dick? He’s the last person I remember hearing before…”

He trailed off into a hum but Jason nodded nonetheless.

“It’s a possibility. Last thing I remember is watching our guy from a rooftop. Not sure what card the fucker played, but it’s a cruel one,” he said, “but if we got hit, Dickface would’ve been hit too, surely?”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t remember how close by he was, to be honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was pretty out of it already when I blacked out.”

Jason clicked his tongue. “So much for being the smart one, pipsqueak.”

“You try being hit over the head while running on pure adrenaline, fucker.” Tim scoffed and Jason snorted. Then Tim frowned. “Pipsqueak?”

Jason smirked at him, looking him up and down. “Well yeah. Look at ya. You’re teeny tiny.”

“You’re hardly better,” Tim retorted, raising an eyebrow. “No wonder Dick and Bruce didn’t recognise you as The Red Hood. You were tiny compared to the present.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason waved him off with a toothy grin. “You’re still tinier, baby bird. Don’t’cha forget that.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Nevermind. Why was I even happy to have you here? I want actual fifteen-year-old Jay instead.”

“Ha-ha.” Jason deadpanned, glaring at him half-heartedly. “So, what now? Do we go hunt down Goldie?”

Tim thought for a moment. If Dick was here, the chances are that he’d already be on the way. He’d have realised the date by now and would want to save his younger brother more than anyone. Tim would place his bets on their oldest brother already driving towards them at full speed.

He relayed this to Jason, who nodded with an amused twinkle in his eye. “True. We wait him out, then. If he’s not here in an hour or two we’ll rule him out?”

Tim hummed his agreement. Good plan.

“We should probably tell Bruce, though,” he said and Jason scowled.

“Why?” Jason asked, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Does he need to know everythin’?”

Tim frowned. “No, but he could help. There’s a protocol for this, remember? He should know it.”

Jason sighed loudly. “God, I hate it when your ass is right.”

“So, all the time?”

“Shut your trap, Mini Red.”

“That one’s just stupid.”

“Red Runt.”

“Even worse.”

The walk to Bruce’s office was so much better than the walk to the Manor. Jason was at his side now, insulting him every few seconds. It was oddly comforting.

They’d both smiled innocently as they passed Alfred on the way up. The butler still had a tint of confusion in his gaze, but seemed to dismiss it out of trust for Jason, if not for Tim. Jason snickered as soon as they were out of earshot and Tim couldn’t help but laugh too.

Eventually, they reached the door and Tim hesitated. Surely Bruce wouldn’t not help them, right? The protocols would’ve already been in place at this time and Bruce wouldn’t–

Jason had no such hesitation. He slammed the door wide open. All of Tim’s insecurities vanished in an instant, replaced by a familiar and disbelieving smile. Goddamn it.

Bruce stared at them from behind his desk, gaze going from relaxed to calculating as it ran from Jason to Tim.

“Jason,” he said, putting down whatever papers were in his hand. “And is that Timothy I see?”

Tim bristled, not used to being called Timothy by Bruce. By anyone, really, but Bruce had always called him Tim.

Jason grinned at Bruce as he slammed the door closed behind him, shame nowhere in sight. Tim saw Bruce stiffen slightly and held back a wide grin of his own. That was Bruce’s default reaction to any of his children’s mischief. Bruce knew Jay was about to say or do something that would give him a migraine.

“Hi, Mister Wayne,” Tim offered instead and he heard Jason snort. He elbowed him. “Shut up, fuckwad.”

“Wow,” Jason drawled, “is that how you treat your hosts, Timothy?”

The name felt as foreign in Jason’s voice as it did the first time but Tim rolled his eyes nonetheless. “You’re insufferable.”

“Hardly. Dickhead’s the insufferable one.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bruce watched the interaction with a curious but calculating expression. He’d definitely figured out that he was missing something. Tim sort of felt bad for him. Sort of.

Jason shoved Tim to the side before focusing on Bruce. Tim stuck his tongue out but stayed still, eyes on Bruce now, too.

“Listen up, old man,” Jason announced, pointing at their father. “Protocol code twenty-seven, three-fifty-five and uh…”

He turned to Tim. “What was the last part?”

“Four thousand and sixty-eight, zero, T,” Tim supplied happily. “Brush up on the protocol codes, loser.”

Jason scowled at him, muttering something about stupidly complicated codes and Bruce’s gaze turned instantly more focused. “Time travel?” He asked, staring holes into Tim, who nodded.

“Yeah,” Jason said, nonchalant. “Looks to be what? Eight years?”

Tim nodded again. “Give or take. We’re like a month off, it was May.”

Bruce cleared his throat, bringing both the former Robins’ attention back to him.

“And it’s just you two?”

“Not sure yet,” Jason answered with a shrug. “Depending on if Dickhead shows up within the next hour, we’ll see.”

Bruce visibly stiffened at the mention of his eldest son, but Jason kept talking. Well, it was more muttering.

“Might be the tiny squirt too, actually, now that I think about it…”

Tim’s eyes widened at the mention of their other brother. “Shit, we totally forgot about Damian. He’d be…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, biting his lip. Damian at this point in time would be unknown by everyone, training with Talia in the League of Assassins. And while Tim doesn’t doubt his younger brother’s abilities, it’s still his younger brother. Physically he’d be seven? Eight?

Jason scowled, finishing his sentence for him. “With the League, yeah. Not the best.”

“Not the best,” Tim echoed, jaw clenching. “We’ll look into it.”

Jason nodded in agreement before turning back to Bruce. “We think Dick might be here too. If he is, he’ll be here within the hour, probably.”

“Right,” Bruce replied, still a bit tense. He turned to face Tim entirely. “And you know the protocols…”

“Ah,” Tim said eloquently, shrinking back in on himself slightly. “About that…”

Jason slung an arm around Tim’s shoulders, cutting him off.

“Timbo here was Robin number three,” he told Bruce with a smile and Tim made a squeak of surprise. Jason acknowledging him as the next Robin so casually was not on his bingo list for the year. He couldn’t help the swell of fond pride in his chest: They’d come a long way. This, compared to nineteen-year-old Jason’s sneered Replacement, was like whiplash.

“Robin… number three?” Bruce repeated, eyebrows stitching together. Jason’s face scrunched up, so Tim stepped in.

“I had the mantle after Jay,” he explained with a shrug. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “You didn’t think twenty-three-year-old Jason was still running around in the Robin short-shorts, did you?”

Jason let out a sharp laugh from next to him and ruffled his hair.

“Nice one, Red. Nice one.” He winked at Bruce. “But he’s right, old man. Couldn’t be Robin forever, yeah? Timmy was just next in line. He found out our identities at the age of nine, so it was only logical.”

Bruce seemed to accept this answer, even if his eyes clearly held more questions. He glanced between the boys, searching for something.

“And you two are…?” He trailed off, a bit unsure, a bit guarded. Jason just grinned.

“Brothers, yeah,” he confirmed, and Tim was pretty sure he watched Bruce age ten years at the words. “Congrats, B, ya got another one.”

Nevertheless, he seemed to take it in stride. He looked at Tim. “Your parents?”

Tim shook his head. “Both dead, now. Not that they would’ve cared, anyway.”

Jason’s grip on him tightened slightly and Bruce frowned but didn’t comment. Tim had no doubt he’d look into it on his own, later. After a moment, Bruce smiled at him.

“Well then,” he said, softer than Tim would usually hear him, “welcome to the family, Tim.”

Warmth flooded Tim’s senses and he smiled back. This was his Dad. “Thanks, B.”

“Gross, sappy shit,” Jason complained, despite obviously grinning.

“You’re one to talk, Jaylad,” Bruce said, raising an eyebrow at his second eldest. “You seem to have taken quite a liking to Tim.”

If Bruce was expecting Jason to fluster and lash out against it, it wasn’t what he got. Jason only grinned wider, using his fist to give Tim a noogie, much to his dismay.

“Damn straight,” he said, “Timbo might be a little shit, but that’s my brother alright. Smartest short stack I know.”

Tim groaned. “How do you manage to insult me and compliment me in the same damn sentence?”

“Language,” Bruce chastised and Tim didn’t think he’d ever seen such a shit-eating grin on Jay’s face before.

“My bad,” he conceded with a shrug, even if it was absolutely biased. He groaned again before pushing Jason off him. “Get off me, you mammoth.”

Jason scoffed but did let Tim go and Tim huffed in relief. Bruce watched the two with a rare, fond expression etched onto his face and Tim really took it in. This was Bruce before Jason’s death. Before he almost fell into the complete deep end. Before some of the darkest years of his life.

He saw this look on Bruce’s face commonly now, usually during full family gatherings. But seeing it this early was so refreshing in so many odd ways.

The proceeding silence was broken by loud shuffling from somewhere underneath them. Tim thought he heard Alfred’s voice and someone else’s. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the other voice was. He saw Bruce’s expression twist into… something.

“Well,” Jason said, amused, as he turned towards the door. “Seems like there’s our answer about Goldie.”

Tim snorted, turning as well.  “He’s probably losing his shit right now.”

Jason barked out a laugh. “Oh, absolutely. This’ll be glorious.”

After a few moments, familiar but frantic footsteps were heard near the door before it slammed open for the second time that day. In the doorway stood twenty-one-year-old Dick Grayson, more dishevelled than Tim had ever seen him.

His usually perfect curls were all over the place and he was out of breath, not even wearing a jacket. He was sporting just a T-shirt and sweatpants. He looked like he’d jumped out of bed and immediately sped here. Which, Tim mused, he probably had.

Jason whistled as Dick’s gaze snapped to him. “Record time, Dickiebird. Record time.”

Tim chuckled at that and Dick paused in his frantic look-over of Jason to look at him. “Tim,” he acknowledged, barely a breath.

“Hi,” Tim said, giving a small wave. “You’re here too, then.”

That seemed to snap Dick out of his frozen haze, cause he let out a long exhale. “Thank god.” He looked at Jason again. “Jay.”

“‘Sup, Dickhead,” Jason said with a small salute. “Present and accounted for.”

“I can see that,” Dick laughed, incredulous. He took a few more deep breaths. “Fuck, man.”

Jason snorted as Dick took a few sure steps forward, encompassing both of his younger brothers in a tight hug. For once, Jason didn’t protest, and Tim happily hugged him back.

“Curse my past self for being all the way in Blüdhaven,” he hissed quietly, “I was so scared I’d be too late, fuck.”

“Swear jar, Goldie,” Jason said, muffled into Dick’s shoulder and Tim snorted.

“Shut up,” Dick retorted quickly but it was under a huffed laugh. “I’m just glad you’re here. Both of you.”

Tim smiled and Jason nodded, neither saying anything.

“Dick,” came from somewhere behind them, and Tim realised with a jolt that past Bruce was still in the room, watching the exchange. He felt Dick let go of them, his head raising to meet Bruce’s gaze.

“B,” he said, smiling, “hi. You doing alright?”

Tim listened as Bruce let out a sort of strangled noise and Dick hummed. “Not B, then?” He asked, the question directed at Tim and Jason.

“Nah,” Jason confirmed, “just the Robins so far. We’re unsure about the brat.”

Dick’s face fell at the mention of Damian, likely coming to the same conclusion that they had earlier. If he did, he didn’t voice it. Instead, he nodded.

“Alright,” he said, “protocol–”

“Already done,” Tim interrupted, smirking impishly. “We’re not incompetent, Dick.”

Dick huffed a laugh. “Right, sorry. Kind of high-strung, right now, Boy Genius.”

He ruffled Tim’s hair fondly and looked at Bruce again. “So you’re in the loop, then.”

Bruce nodded and if Tim didn’t know any better he’d call his father dumbstruck. Was Dick and Bruce’s relationship that bad at this time?

Dick obviously found the reaction amusing, because he snorted.

“Take the stick out of your ass, B,” he said with a raised eyebrow and Jason openly laughed. Tim let out some sort of shocked-strangled-laugh sound. Neither of them expected that.

And, clearly, neither did Bruce, because his eyes widened like saucers, which only made Jay laugh harder, and Tim was barely containing his own laughter.

Dick waved a dismissive hand. “I couldn’t stay mad at you forever. We’re okay now. Mostly.”

“Mostly, he says,” Jason said between breaths, Dick levelling him with an exasperated glare.

“We don’t argue that often anymore,” he claimed and Jason rolled his eyes at him.

“Uh-huh. Sure, whatever.”

“Don’t mind Jay,” Dick said, hands on his hips. “We’re fine, B, promise.”

Bruce opened his mouth to reply but Dick was faster. His gaze flicked to Tim for just a second and he brightened.

“You’ve met Timmy, then?” He asked, grabbing Tim and pulling him closer. Tim yelped but made no move to escape the hold. He heard Jason’s ‘ha’ from somewhere on the side and stuck a middle finger in his direction.

Bruce nodded again and Dick continued grinning but his eyes flashed a dangerous glint. “My next baby brother,” he said firmly and Tim rolled his eyes. “And the next to join this family, for you.”

“Dick,” Tim interrupted, exasperated, “it’s fine. He knows already. We’re cool.”

Dick nodded, patting Tim’s shoulder. “Good to know, baby bird.”

“Aye,” Jason said, glaring at Dick. “Not just your baby brother, bitch.”

Dick snorted but conceded. “Our baby brother. My bad, Jaybird.”

“Damn straight,” Jason said again with a firm nod. His gaze landed on Tim. “And don’t ya forget that, little Red.”

Tim groaned again but didn’t object, not really. He wouldn’t admit it out loud at that moment, but he was extremely glad that both of his older brothers were here. Jay had already been a blessing, but Dick was a miracle. 

A thought he quickly kind of regretted because Dick’s expression turned teasing as soon Jason finished his sentence.

“Speaking of little…” He said and Tim froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason freeze too in realisation. He shot his second eldest brother a glare, clearly communicating this is your fault, moron.

Dick cupped Tim’s face in both hands, turning his head from side to side. “Look at you! You’re tiny! How old are you? Thirteen?”

“Sadly,” Tim grumbled, attempting to pull Dick off him. “Get off me, c’mon! Just look at Jay! He’s way tinier than he usually is!”

Dick smiled as his gaze turned to Jason, who visibly bristled. “Snitch,” he complained, shooting a glare at Tim, who only smiled as Dick let go of his face.

“Don’t even get me started on you, Little Wing!” Dick cheered happily, grabbing Jason now. Tim snorted as he watched Jay attempt to dodge, to unsurprisingly no avail.

“God, I forgot how tiny you were,” Dick said, a look so painfully fond in his eyes. For all his dodging, Jason didn’t attempt to leave the grip, letting their brother examine him. Tim was sure it was very temporary, though.

“So small…” Dick almost whispered, his voice taking on more of a sad tone. Jason was pointedly looking everywhere but Dick.

Tim watched the exchange curiously. This was the side of his brothers he’d never actually gotten to see. He could feel the regret rolling off of Dick in waves, likely because he hadn’t spent much time with Jason when they were this age. Dick had told him before, that one of his biggest regrets was treating Jason the way he did when the younger boy had originally come to the Manor.

They’d only just started getting along when Jason died and Dick had been crushed.

So seeing Jay at this age, even if he wasn’t mentally, must definitely hurt.

After a few suffocating moments of silence, Dick let go of Jason with a watery smile.

“Always so sappy, Dickface, get a grip,” Jason said and Dick laughed. Tim couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of his own. They’d be fine.

“By the way, Dick,” Tim said after a moment and his brothers turned to look at him. “Do you remember what happened, exactly? Neither me or Jay do.”

Dick stared at him with a puzzled expression. “I was definitely with Dami,” he said after a moment and Tim sucked in a breath. “But what exactly happened… I’m not sure either. D’you reckon it was the guy we were shadowing?”

Tim swayed his hand in a ‘so-so’ gesture. “It’s a possibility. Jay said he was watching him when he blacked out. It could be the guy using some magic or something entirely different.”

Dick nodded. His expression twisted into something careful. “And about Damian…?”

Tim scowled and he could see Jason making a similar expression. “No word on him. Sorry, Dick.”

Dick smiled at him, if a bit sad. “Nothing to be sorry for.” Something determined graced his features then and he nodded at both him and Jason. “We’ll find him, even if he’s not here, too.”

Tim nodded back, as did Jason.

A beat of silence later, Bruce cleared his throat. They all turned to look at him on instinct.

“Find who, exactly?” He asked, his voice one octave away from being the Batman growl. Tim held back a wince– someone was clearly not enjoying being out of the loop.

“A snobby little brat with a sword,” Jason answered and Tim snorted. Dick rolled his eyes at them with all the patience of Richard Grayson.

“He’s our youngest brother,” Dick answered properly with a ‘what-can-you-do’ shrug. “Your only biological son, who is currently in Nanda Parbat with the League of Assassins, likely with Talia. He’s the current, present-time Robin.”

Jason whistled. “Way to ease him into it, Dickhead.”

Dick just shrugged again. “He’s Batman. He can handle it.”

Tim laughed. “I love this side of you.” Dick grinned at him.

Bruce looked like someone had shot him. “Biological?” He managed, and all three of them nodded. “With Talia?” They nodded again.

“God,” he said, running a hand over his face, “what is this family?”

Tim shrugged, smiling. “What you made it, B.”

Bruce just sighed and rose from his chair. “How old is he?”

“Seven. I think,” Jason said, pinching his eyebrows in thought. Dick nodded from next to him.

Bruce frowned. “And he’s with the League?”

Dick scowled, tone unusually hostile. “He’s Talia’s. We don’t usually find out he even exists until he’s ten or eleven. They raised him there.”

“He’s a decent enough kid,” Jason said, shrugging.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “If you overlook the stabbing.”

“Nah,” Jason denied with a grin, “that’s the best part.”

Tim shook his head. “Not when you’re on the receiving end.”

“Ha,” Jason said, “simply don’t get stabbed, then. Easy.”

“True.” Tim hummed. “That’s why he hasn’t gotten me in months. He needs to up his game.”

Jason grinned. “There y’are. Up top.” He raised his hand.

Tim grinned back as he high-fived him.

Bruce seemed to have paled at the interaction but Dick only shook his head fondly. He pat Bruce’s back as the older man walked up to him. “You’ll get used to them. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Bruce echoed and the room rang with laughter.

“Hey, by the way,” Jason said in the Cave, a few hours later. Tim paused in his typing at the Batcomputer, spinning the chair around to face Jason, who was scrolling through an old WayneTech tablet. Dick made a noncommital noise to indicate he’s listening. Bruce was also listening, if the slight twitch of his head was any indication.

“If the brat is here,” Jay continued, “don’t y’all think he’d be on his way already?”

Dick frowned, turning to face him fully. “How do you mean?”

“Well,” Jason huffed, “it’s Damian we’re talking about. And if it’s our Damian, wouldn’t he, logically, book it from the League and start heading here?”

“Huh,” Tim said, blinking. “Huh. You’re not wrong. Fifteen-year-old Dami is definitely capable of escaping the League on his own. And he does know his way to Gotham…”

“Oh my god,” Dick said, running a hand through his hair. “He’s so on his way. He totally is!”

“If he’s fifteen,” Jason added, but Dick waved him off.

“He was with me, Jay. If we’re all here then he’s got to be.”

Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “Ay, I’m just sayin’. No need ‘ta get your panties in a twist.”

“How would he get here?” Bruce asked after a moment. Tim shrugged.

“The League has plenty of resources. Planes, jets, boats and all that,” he answered casually, “and Dami is familiar with all of ‘em. He’ll find a way.”

Jason nodded in agreement. “Crafty kid.”

Bruce frowned. “And he won’t be followed?”

Tim laughed openly at that and he heard both Jay and Dick snort. “Damian? No way. He’s got your paranoia and League training. If anyone’s good at getting places undetected, it’s him.”

“I think this is the most I’ve heard either of you compliment Dami ever,” Dick said, not even trying to hide his amusement. Tim and Jason groaned in unison.

“Don’t get used ‘ta it,” Jason said, going back to scrolling through the tablet. Tim is about ninety-percent sure he’s reading some kind of literature classic on there while pretending to look for information.

“And don’t tell him we said it,” Tim added with a grin and a wave of his hand, “plausible deniability and all that.”

Jason huffed a laugh and Dick just sighed. Bruce looked at all of them separately but said nothing and it was odd, in a way, too see him so out of his depth. But Dick had that authorative effect on people, Tim supposed, and it seemed to even work on a younger Bruce. Plus, these were dynamics he wasn’t exactly familiar with. At least not yet.

“Anyway,” Tim drawled, going back to the topic at hand. “Do we just wait him out, then? Like we did with Dick?”

Jason shrugged, eyes not leaving his screen. “Guess so. If he doesn’t show up then we’ll go get him manually.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. He nodded at Tim. “We will. If he’s going to come then it’ll be soon enough.”

As if on cue, the Batcomputer lit up with a red screen and an incoming communication. Tim just about saw Jason’s head snap up and Bruce’s eyes narrow before he spun back around to the computer, slamming the answer button.

“Drake,” came the slightly-mechanised and much more high-pitched than usual voice of his younger brother. “Took you long enough.”

Tim heard Dick sigh in relief and Jason snort but he only frowned, exasperated. “The hell you blaming me for? How did you even know I was the one who answered?!” Damian had no way of knowing that Tim was even in the past! 

“I didn’t,” Damian said through the speakers, sounding way too smug for Tim’s liking. “But thank you for confirming that.”

Jason laughed from behind him. “Todd. I see you’re here also.”

“Damn right, brat. Not gettin’ rid of me.”

“Unfortunate.”

Tim couldn’t see what Jason was doing behind him, but he imagined it was probably the middle finger.

“Damian,” Dick said, leaning on the back of Tim’s chair. “Where are you?”

The screen quickly faded to black before a camera feed flickered to life on it, revealing Damian in all his seven-year-old glory. Tim bit his lip to refrain from laughing on the spot. So small.

He saw Dick’s eyes fill with awe as well but neither said anything.

Behind him was a cabin of what looked like a basic League jet. Tim had been inside one once or twice, but never for very long. Of course, Damian managed to steal one.

“Richard,” Damian greeted, a smile gracing his tiny face. “Of course you’re here.”

“Naturally,” Dick answered, grinning. “We’ve got the whole Robin bunch.”

“Besides Steph,” Tim murmured, “I think…”

“Answer the question, though, baby bat,” Dick said over Tim. “Where are you?”

Damian hummed in thought. “ETA an hour.” He clicked his tongue. “More or less.”

“Nice,” Jason complimented, “League escape and it’s only been a few hours. Good one, little guy.”

“Well, obviously.” Damian scoffed. “I’m no amatuer. Plus, mother wasn’t expecting me to be able to run away. That’ll teach her to not underestimate my skill level, I suppose.”

Tim snorted. “Bet she wasn’t expecting her perfect seven-year-old assassin baby to go rogue.”

Damian, to his credit, smirked in amusement. “No, she was not.”

Bruce spoke up, for the first time since Damian connected. “And you’re not being tailed?”

Tim was pretty sure him, Jay and Dick all rolled their eyes in unison at the question. Bat paranoia.

“Father,” Damian acknowledged, “I will hazard a guess that you aren’t your future self.”

Jason chuckled. “And all it took was a question. He got you good, B.”

Bruce grunted. Damian sighed. “No, I am not being followed. Yes, I am sure. I am not a fool.”

“Of course not,” Dick said, nodding. He shot a glare at Bruce. Tim resisted the urge to laugh at how their father seemed to cower under it. Age is a funny thing. “You did great, Dami. See you in an hour?”

“Very well. Richard. Timothy. Jason. Father.”

The line ended with a click.

“Wow,” Jason said, Tim turning around to face him again. “First names for all of us and everythin’. He must be in a good mood.”

“I’m sure he’s glad we’re also here,” Dick said, with a smile and a shrug. “Weren’t you?”

“I had to deal with Timbo practically immediately, so no,” Jason said, waving his hand. Tim gasped, gaping. Jay had definitely been happy to see him.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Tim said, incredulous, “my own brother. Betraying me like this.” He sniffed dramatically. “So that hug meant nothing? I thought we were doing better.”

Jason snorted. “Nah. You’re an annoyin’ little shit.”

Tim threw a pen from the pen holder at him. Then another. Then another. Then another.

Jason groaned, blocking the pens with his hand. “Fuck you, this is assault.”

“It’s deserved. Tell me you were happy to see me and I’ll stop.”

“Fuck you.”

A pen.

“Stop, you fucker.”

Another pen.

“Oh my god, fine. I was happy to see you. That good?”

Tim smiled. “Peachy.”

Dick snickered from next to Tim. “The fearsome Red Hood, bested by his younger brother and some pens.”

Tim laughed and Jason groaned louder, picking up one of the pens and throwing it at Dick instead, who easily dodged it. “Shut up, ya bendy bitch.”

Tim laughed harder. Then he got hit with a pen. His laughter ceased and he glared at Jason, who was openly grinning at him. Tim reached for another pen but didn’t have time to throw it because Bruce spoke from the side.

“You’re definitely brothers,” was all he said. Dick folded into full-blown laughter. Tim snickered into his hand, watching Jason do the same.

“Honestly, B, I’m surprised you ain’t asking more questions,” Jason said after his snickering died down. “I know ya have ‘em.”

Bruce nodded. “I do. But asking them seems counterproductive, considering you’re likely not staying for much longer.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Ya think so?”

“From my previous knowledge of time travel, yes. It is unlikely that this is permanent.”

“And if it is?” Tim blurted out before he could stop himself. Bruce’s gaze turned on him and he swallowed.

“Then so it is,” Bruce said, crossing his arms. “My sons are my sons. Whatever age you actually are.”

“Aww, B!” Dick cood, grinning. “We love you too, you emotionally constipated man.”

Bruce grunted but didn’t deny the implications. Tim found himself smiling, too, and Jay was definitely hiding a small one behind that tablet.

An hour passed much faster than any of them would have expected, and soon enough there was an array of beeping noises as Damian entered the Batcave. With all the elegance of a seven-year-old Damian Al-Ghul Wayne.

Jason saluted from his place on one of the benches. “‘Sup, brat?”

Damian nodded at him. “Todd.” He paused, looking Jason up and down. “You’re small.”

“Look in the mirror, little guy,” Jason retorted with a snort. Damian huffed, turning to the rest of them.

Tim gave him a wave which he surprisingly returned. To be honest, Tim was still holding back laughter. Damian was tiny. He followed the child’s gaze to Dick, who looked like Christmas came early.

“Oh my god,” he said, running at Damian with open arms. In a few swift steps Damian was sweeped off the floor and into Dick’s arms with surprisingly little protest. “Look at you! You’re adorable.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Cease this, Richard,” he said, glaring at the man in question. It would’ve been more effective if he actually tried to leave Dick’s arms.

Dick beamed at him, settling the young boy on his hip and looking him over. “You alright? No injuries?”

Damian shook his head. “Not on my person. I can’t say the same for mother’s assassins, though.”

Jason cackled. “I sure fuckin’ hope you gave ‘em a run for their damn money.”

Damian nodded seriously. “They will take a while to recover. It is their own fault, for their incomplete training.”

Jason laughed harder as a grin spread on Damian’s face.

Tim snorted. “I hope Ra’s gets a migraine trying to figure out what went wrong,” he said, no remorse in his voice. The old ass creepy bastard deserved it.

“Drake,” Damian said, turning to him, now. “Have you figured out why we are here? And how to reverse it?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “A lot of credit you’re giving me there, squirt. Any more and I’d be fooled into thinking you trust me.”

Damian scoffed but didn’t deny the claims. “Surely you can’t be that incompetent, Timothy. So?”

Tim hummed, crossing one leg on top of the other. “It’s magic,” he confirmed, “and it’s unsurprisingly related to the guy we were tailing. It’s a terrible, terrible case of wrong place, wrong time.”

Jason frowned at him. “Wrong place, wrong time?”

Tim nodded. “The guy we’re trying to catch is smuggling magical artifacts. One of which defends the wearer from being followed.” He grimaced. “By any means necessary. Seems like it deemed us enough of a threat to thrust us back in time. For whatever reason.”

“Wow.” Jason deadpanned. “Seems like a lot of hassle. Could’ve just killed us, at that point.”

Tim shrugged. “Don’t ask me, I’m not Constantine.” Dick scowled and rolled his eyes at the mention of the magic user. Tim snorted.

“And any reason why it sent us back to today, specifically?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow. Dick inhaled sharply and Tim frowned.

“Probably cause you were there, actually,” he answered, giving Jason a half-shrug. “It couldn’t have sent you back any later than this because you were… you know.”

“Dead, Timmers, ya can say it,” Jason finished, shooting him a crooked grin. “That makes sense. It’s stupid, but it makes sense.”

“Get to the point, Drake,” Damian prompted, interrupting their conversation, “how do we reverse it?”

“We don’t,” Tim replied casually, leaning his head back. “It’ll reverse itself by the end of today. I’m assuming we’ll be put back right to where we were.”

Damian nodded, accepting this answer. Dick mirrored him, shooting Tim a proud smile which preened at.

“Thank god,” Jason said, “I’m so sick of this tiny body. Getting used to it is actual hell. Ask Constantine.”

“Stop bringing up Constantine,” Dick grumbled but Jason ignored him. Tim snickered.

“Where is past father?” Damian asked, scanning the cave and not finding Bruce. “Wasn’t he here, with you?”

“The Batsignal went off,” Jason explained with a lazy wave of his hand. “So he’s gone on Bat business, if you will. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

Damian tilted his head. “With no Robin?”

Jason grinned, all teeth. Tim chuckled. Dick nodded, amused. “With no Robin,” they chorused.

“Well then,” Damian said, a smile creeping onto his face. “He might take a while.”

“Now you’re speakin’ my language, baby bat!” Jason laughed, the others joining in right after.

A few hours later, Bruce trudged into the Batcave, slipping his cowl off. Tim waved from his spot at the Batcomputer. “Hi, B,” he said happily.

Bruce nodded at him, the edge of his lip twitching upwards. “Hello, Tim.” He glanced around the Cave. “Where are your brothers?”

Tim hummed. “Dick took Damian to see Alfred, I think. I’m not actually sure what their intentions are… and I don’t really want to know.”

He tapped his fingers on the keyboard absentmindedly. “I think Jay’s hanging out in the living room upstairs,” he added after a moment of thought, “reading, I’m pretty sure. Wuthering Heights maybe? I didn’t really listen to him. But don’t tell him that!”

Bruce nodded at the answers, smirking. “And you?”

Tim shrugged. “Looking through old case files. Sorting your files, because seriously, B, the way you file things is atrocious. What would future-you do without me, honestly.”

He shook his head in exasperation, pausing when he heard Bruce chuckle. “You’re a good kid,” Bruce said, ruffling his hair. “I can’t wait to properly meet the you from my time.”

Tim’s chest tightened. He didn’t have the heart to tell Bruce that their original first meeting wasn’t a very pleasant one, given the circumstances. So, instead, he just smiled and nodded. “I’m sure he’s looking forward to meeting you, too. Thanks, B.”

“And I’m sure it’ll definitely be interesting, since apparently little you already knows about all this. Am I correct?” He gestured vaguely to the cave. Tim nodded in response.

“He does,” he confirmed, a hint of pride swelling in his chest. “He won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. Well, except you, but you know.”

“I’d expect no less,” Bruce says with fond huff. “Enjoy your file sorting, Tim, I’m going to go find your brothers.”

Tim nodded again, turning back to the computer.

Bruce smiled at him once more before he left him to his own devices.

Good luck B, he thought, and really found himself meaning it. You’ll need it.

“You ready?” Dick asked and Tim nodded. Damian huffed from next to him, muttering something along the lines of finally. Jason just shrugged.

Dick looked at the clock again, Tim’s gaze following. Ten minutes left, more or less.

Tim looked at Bruce, who was standing across from them with a complicated expression. He snorted, causing everyone to turn to him.

“You look like you’re gonna explode, B,” he said and listened to his siblings laugh or agree. “I know you said questions are impractical, but you might as well. What’s bothering you, dad?”

Bruce startled at the usage of the title but recovered quickly. Tim huffed in amusement as Bruce sighed.

“Just… you seem so happy. With each other. You care for each other so, so much,” Bruce said, startling all of them, if the way they all froze was any indication. Still, none denied it. “And I’m just having trouble seeing the way that I fit into this. Any of this.”

Tim watched as Dick softened immediately. He happily stayed quiet, Jay and Damian clearly having a similar idea. If anyone was going to do this, it was Dick.

“You gave us this, Bruce,” Dick said, smiling. “Without you, we likely wouldn’t even know each other. You took us in. You took care of us. You gave us a dad.”

“And sure, there were some… darker periods,” he said, grimacing slightly, “but we made it through. We all did.” He gestured to Tim, Jason and Damian. “It wasn’t easy, I’ll admit, but we made it there. And…”

He pointed at Bruce. “You were part of that. Are a part of that. As our Dad and as our mentor. Maybe not perfect, but none of us are.”

“Understatement of the fuckin’ century,” Jason joked and Tim snorted. Dick brightened.

“This isn’t even all of us,” Damian added, Tim debating if it was a helpful addition or not by the way Bruce’s eyes widened like saucers. Dick laughed.

“Only one is missing out of the officially yours, two if we count Duke,” he explained to Bruce. “Cass is also wonderful, and I can guarantee she loves you just as much as we do.”

“Cass is fucking awesome,” Tim agreed, Jay and Damian nodding.

“That she is,” Dick said. “But really, B, you’re fine. You’ll do great. You’ll find us and we’ll find you. And find our way back to you, in my case and later Jay’s. Trust me on that. As not only your eldest son but your very first partner. Take this as a message from the Robin mantle, if you want, yeah?”

Bruce’s breath hitched and honestly Tim didn’t blame him. Dick and his emotional speeches. Being on the receiving end of them guaranteed unwanted and unconsensual emotions. Tim had experience.

“Finish up your sap fest,” Jason said, nodding at the clock. A minute left. “Time’s a tickin’.”

Dick shook his head fondly but stepped back. Tim brightened as a smile appeared on Bruce’s face.

“You’re all wonderful,” he said, meeting all of their gazes one by one. “I hope you know that.”

Tim grinned. “See ya really soon, B!”

With one final wave, he saw black.

The next time Tim came to, he was back in the alleyway he was in before everything. Except this time he was not actively losing consciousness.

His comm crackled to life. Once again, like before, it was Nightwing.

“Everyone here?” Dick asked, a slight concerned tint to his voice. “Everyone safe?”

“I’m here,” Jason’s drawl came through, deep and rough as it should be. “Finally. I’ve never been more glad to have my guns on me. My precious.” There was an exaggerated smooching sound through the comm and Tim rolled his eyes. Dramatic fuck.

“Red?” Dick prompted after a small sigh of relief at Jason’s message. Tim raised his hand to his comm and huffed.

“Here,” he said and Dick exhaled, loud. He heard Damian sigh too, from his side. “All good. Let’s just get this done.”

“Agreed,” Jason said, “and not get hit with random ass magic artifacts, this time? I really don’t wanna hafta talk to Constantine”

Tim snorted and he heard Dick groan. “Can you stop bringing up Constantine?!”

He’s pretty sure he heard Damian laugh over Dick’s comm, informing him to turn his own one on. When Damian did, Tim shared his idea:

“The one who gets the least artifacts from him has to write the report for this mess,” he said, a cheeky tilt to his voice. “The entire mess. Time travel included.” There was a moment of silence, his brothers clearly thinking it over.

“Deal,” Jason said and Tim could practically hear his grin.

After a few seconds came Dick’s reply: “You’re so on.”

And right after: “Challenge accepted,” from Damian.

“Countdown?” He asked, despite knowing the answer. He readied his grappler.

“Three,” Dick.

“Two,” Jason.

“One,” Damian.

“Go!” Tim yelled, and they were off.

“I hate you all,” Dick grumbled from his place on the couch. He had his laptop opened in front of him, a report being written up.

“Sucks to suck, Dickhead,” Jason jeered, “should’a been faster. Ain’t ya an acrobat and shit?”

Tim snickered from his spot under Jason’s arm. “Yeah, Dick. You’re supposed to be the fast and agile one. Is your old age catching up to you?”

“Screw you,” Dick hissed, going back to typing. “At least Damian is nice to me.” He glanced at the teenager in question, who was leaning on his shoulder.

“Your performance could’ve been better,” Damian said with a half-shrug. “Your demise is your own fault, Richard.”

“Betrayal,” Dick said, incredulous. “Really, baby bat? You’re literally snuggling up to me, right now.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Damian answered, nonchalant. “And my current position has nothing to do with your temporary incompetence.”

Jason laughed and Tim soon joined him.

Dick groaned but there was a smile creeping up on his face. Tim grinned, his giggles dying down. That’s when he noticed the shadow looming in the doorframe of the room. He shook his head minutely, disbelieving. How long had Bruce been standing there, lurking?

“B, hi,” he pointed out, nodding at the door. His brothers quickly followed him, shooting out their own greetings. (“Yo.” “Hey, B.” “Hi, Father.”)  Bruce entered the room, an amused expression on his face.

“Should I be concerned that you’re all in the same room at the same time? Is there a coup being planned?” He asked, gaze scanning the boys.

Jason snorted, leaning his head back into the headrest. “Yeah, totally. Ya better be shakin’ in your boots, old man. It’s the Robin invasion.”

Dick snickered, continuing to type. Damian made a ‘who knows’ expression. Tim just grinned.

Bruce hummed, clearly suspicious. “Something happened,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “Are any of you going to tell me what it was, or will I have to read it from Dick’s report, later?” He nodded at the man in question.

Dick tilted his head, looking up at Bruce. “How’d you know I was writing a report?”

Bruce shrugged. “I’m Batman.”

Dick deadpanned. “Right. My bad.”

Tim snickered, remembering the bombshell Dick had dropped on past Bruce using the same excuse.

“Also, you never write anything but reports on that laptop, Chum.”

“Fair enough.”

“Let’s just say we got a bit of nostalgia,” Jason said with an exhausted sigh. “Not all of it pleasant.”

“You’re just annoyed that you had to be a gangly fifteen-year-old again,” Tim chided, earning him a glare.

“If anyone was gangly, Timbo…”

“Fifteen?” Bruce asked, frowning. After a moment, his head tilted and he stared at Tim with the same calculating expression he’d seen on past Bruce. “Time travel?”

“Right on the money, B-man,” Tim confirmed happily, “obviously all handled. But it was definitely an interesting trip.”

“Interesting is one way to put it,” Damian said, half into Dick’s shoulder. Dick pat his head in sympathy. “But it was certainly good training.”

“Of course, you’d say that,” Jason groaned. “Ya got to fight a slightly less experienced League.” He clicked his tongue. “The brat got all the damn fun.”

“The League?” Bruce began, concern growing, but Damian waved him off and he dropped it.

“Jay forgot the protocol code,” Tim said with a snort. Jason shot him a betrayed look when Bruce’s stare turned on him.

“My bad,” Jason conceded, raising the arm not currently being squished by Tim in surrender. “I’ll brush up on ‘em. Not today though. Too tired.”

Bruce grunted but didn’t reprimand him further. He sighed.

“And you’re all alright?”

“Yep,” Dick chirped.

“Perfectly healthy,” Damian said.

“S’all good,” Jason drawled.

“Yeah,” Tim confirmed, smiling.

“Then alright,” Bruce said. He glanced at Dick. “That report better not be in purple font, Dick.”

Tim heard the slam of a backspace button as Dick groaned. “Boring!”

Bruce shook his head as he exited the room.

“This family’s fucking insane,” Tim whispered, to no one in particular. Jason snorted from above him.

“Ya got that right.”

A few days later, Tim would log onto his laptop for the first time since the trip and find the wallpaper changed to a photo of all four of them on the couch, sleeping.

Upon closer inspection, he’d find that it was taken the same day as the trip. In the photo, Tim was still nuzzled into Jason’s side, but now with an addition of Dick on Jason’s other. Dick’s other arm was wrapped securely around Damian who was comfortably hidden in Dick’s shoulder. Dick’s laptop was forgotten at the side.

Tim would huff in fond amusement but leave the picture be, keeping it as his wallpaper.

Later, his siblings would see it, all having varying reactions.

Later, his siblings would find their own laptop wallpapers to be changed to the very same photo.

Later, they’d find out that it was all Alfred.

But that’d be later. They had time.