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Dick likes to consider himself the world’s most okay-est older brother. He knows he wasn’t very good at it in the past, with Jason and Tim. He’s been trying to be better, with Cass and Damian and Duke. And Jason and Tim, to some degree, because they’ve both reluctantly accepted that yes, Dick is going to big brother them whether they want him to or not.
That being said, Dick is not below knocking Tim unconscious because he refuses to go to sleep.
He’s considering it. He’s got his escrima sticks in hand, having just come back from patrol to find Tim in the same spot he was when Dick left for patrol, eight hours earlier. He’s typing away rapidly at the Cave’s computer, six different monitors going, some of them with Bat business and some with Wayne Enterprises.
“Tim,” Dick says. There’s a half-empty pot of coffee on the table. There’s also no cup in sight. Tim continues typing. “Tim,” Dick says again.
“Yeah?” Tim asks, not turning away from the computer. His fingers never stop moving.
“When was the last time you slept?”
Tim finally pauses. He turns slowly in the chair to face Dick. He’s paler than usual and his hair is greasy and there are dark shadows under his eyes.
“I dunno,” he says. He looks like Death incarnate. “I took a nap Tuesday afternoon.”
“It’s Friday morning,” Dick points out, a bit aghast. “When did you last get a full night’s sleep?”
“Sunday, maybe?”
Tim turns back to the computer. Bruce has been off-world with the Justice League for going on two weeks now, and it’s clear Tim is working himself to the bone in their father’s absence. Dick considers the repercussions of finding and using a sedative.
“Okay,” Dick says. “And I’m assuming there’s nothing I can do to get you to go to bed?”
“Not unless you want to sort through–” –Tim clicks a few times– “–eighty-four incident reports from the R&D department.”
“Okay,” Dick says slowly, already considering how he can get their siblings on this. “Is that it?”
“No.”
“Of course not. Make me a list, I’ll see what I can do.”
“It’s my work, Dick, I’m not gonna make you do it,” Tim says firmly. “I’ll sleep tonight. Probably.”
“It’s Bruce’s work,” Dick corrects. “And you’re not making me, I’m offering.”
“It’s fine,” Tim says. “I’m fine.”
He continues working, very clearly giving off the vibes that the conversation is over. Dick knows there’s probably nothing he can do to make Tim willingly go to bed, and he’s not about to sacrifice the fragility of his and Tim’s good relationship by actually knocking his little brother out. He supposes he’ll have to call in back-up.
It’s fairly easy to steal Tim’s phone. Tim’s reflexes are running on about ten percent, and Dick actually got a good nine hours of sleep before a pretty easy patrol. He snags the phone off the desk and wanders toward the showers. He still doesn’t trust Tim enough to not eavesdrop, so he turns the water pressure up on the shower closest to the door before he tries to open Tim’s phone.
Tim’s background is a picture of him with his team. Cassie is standing with her arms outstretched, muscles flexed, with Kon and Bart each sitting on one of her biceps. Tim is perched on her shoulders, and Kon is in the middle of ruffling his hair. Bart is slightly blurry. They’re all beaming.
Dick wonders who took the picture, but based on the angle, he figures they set up the camera with a timer. He never sees Tim as happy as when he’s with his best friends, which is exactly why Dick types in the six numbers that have been Tim’s password as long as he’s had a cellphone.
He stares at Tim’s contacts for a few minutes. No one has an actual name. Out of pure curiosity, because Dick is a detective and also nosy, he navigates to the family group chat. Based on the most recent messages (and the absolutely terrible contact pictures), he’s able to discern who’s who, and he laughs when he sees that his name is listed as “Clown,” followed by a pig emoji. He doesn’t have to guess that it’s about his stint as a police officer. Everyone else has similar names. “Zombie” and “Demon” are predictable. Steph’s “Burple” is less so. Duke has been given the name “Pretend Normal One.” Bruce is “BatDad.”
Dick clicks out of the family group chat, one of two chats that Tim has pinned to the top of his messages. The other chat has three other members, all with similarly terrible contact pictures as their family. Dick doesn’t want to read through their messages, so he just figures out which number is Kon before he goes back to the contact list and hits the call button.
Kon picks up before the first ring is even done.
“Tim?” he asks, sounding sleepy. Oh yeah, Dick thinks, it’s probably like four in the morning in San Francisco. “What’s up?”
“Hey, it’s Dick,” Dick says. “Tim’s brother.”
Kon snorts. “I know who you are, Dick, Jesus. Why do you have Tim’s phone?”
“He’s refusing to go to sleep and knocking him unconscious is probably a bad idea,” Dick says. “You seem like the most likely person to persuade him to actually go to bed.”
“When was the last time he slept?” Kon asks, his frown clear even through the phone.
“He claims he took a nap on Tuesday. Before that he thinks it was Sunday.”
“Motherfu–” Kon starts into the phone, and the rest of the statement is muffled. “Bruce is still in space?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in like five minutes.”
“Thanks,” Dick says, letting out a little breath of relief. He hangs up and sets Tim’s phone down before he goes to actually take a quick shower.
He’s out of the bathroom four and a half minutes later. Kon is entering the Cave through the manor, bounding down the stairs. He waves when he sees Dick. Dick waves back. Tim doesn’t notice their guest until he’s spinning the chair.
“Conner?” Tim asks, looking extremely confused.
“Come on, boy wonder, it’s time for bed,” Kon says. He scoops Tim up and throws him over one shoulder without hesitation. Tim shrieks and scrambles, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle out of Kon’s grip. Dick almost wants to start video recording.
“I said I’m fine!” Tim howls as Kon carts him up the stairs. “Dick! This is an ultimate betrayal!” His head is drooping even as he says it. Dick grabs his own stuff and Tim’s phone and follows them up the stairs. Tim continues yelling the whole way.
Alfred is waiting for them when they enter the manor. Kon stops short. Tim sags against his back.
“Hi, Mister Pennyworth,” Kon says.
“Master Kent,” Alfred says. “May I ask–”
“I’m getting him to sleep one way or another,” Kon says firmly. Alfred nods and steps out of the way.
“Betrayal!” Tim cries again. They walk past the kitchen, Dick snickering as he follows them. Duke and Damian both poke their heads out to see what’s going on.
“What is the clone doing here?” Damian asks, nose wrinkled. Kon doesn’t dignify him with a response, but he does give Duke a fist-bump as he passes.
Dick wanders past them when they go into Tim’s room. He heads to his own bedroom, much farther down the hall, and starts throwing his things into seemingly random but very specific places. He pulls out his phone to text Wally when he realizes he’s still got Tim’s phone in his pocket.
He slips back down the hallway to Tim’s room. The door is cracked open, and he can hear low voices talking inside. And again, Dick doesn’t want to snoop, but he’s a detective and nosy and that hasn’t changed in the past ten minutes.
“You promised you wouldn’t do this this week,” Kon is saying quietly.
“I know,” Tim mumbles. “There’s just… it’s a lot, when Bruce leaves.”
“And what else did you promise?”
“...that I’d ask for help if I needed it?”
“And?”
“That I’d call you if I went more than two days without sleeping.”
“And?”
“That I wouldn’t do anything that didn’t absolutely have to get done.”
“And?”
“I think that was it.” Silence. “That I know you care about me and are here for me?”
“There you go, baby.”
Baby. Baby. Dick did not know that Tim and Kon were dating. He, like everyone else in the family (and Jon), figured that they still had their heads up their asses regarding that. He figures he’s probably not supposed to know that, and Tim will probably be mad that he found out through eavesdropping, but he doesn’t walk away.
He hears shuffling and quieter murmurs that he can’t make out. After another minute, he pokes his head into the room.
Kon’s in Tim’s bed, on his back, staring at Dick with an eyebrow raised. Tim is curled against Kon’s side, the blankets pulled up around his shoulders, already fast asleep.
Dick raises Tim’s phone and opens the camera. Kon raises a middle finger. Dick snaps a picture, then tosses Tim’s phone to Kon. He catches it and sets it on the nightstand next to him, keeping his other arm wrapped around Tim protectively.
“Thank you for calling me,” he says quietly. Dick nods and smiles, flashes a thumbs up, and slips out of the room.
He gets an email from Superboy five minutes later with Tim’s to-do list. He screenshots it and texts the Bruce-less family group chat.
bats birds etc
Friday, 6:54am
←dick
Tim sleeping for first time in five days. Stake your claim
jason→
Dibs on the incident reports.
steph→
i’ve got the garcon case
cass→
Spreadsheets
duke→
which ones
cass→
Spreadsheets
barbie→
Misc Red Robin things
damian→
I will not be assisting Drake.
Nevermind. I would like to claim uploading paper reports to the database.
duke→
isn’t that the most boring
damian→
It is repetitive. As well as possible blackmail material.
duke→
point, i’ll help
←dick
Thanks guys!
Saturday, 10:27am
tim→
you guys are the worst
jason→
There is no way you slept for twenty-eight hours.
Private Chat
Saturday, 10:29am
tim→
[1 image attachment]
thanks dickhead
←dick
No problem Timbo
Dick is not surprised that Kon joins them for brunch on Saturday morning. The circles under Tim’s eyes are mostly gone and he’s fresh out of the shower, and most importantly he’s smiling as Kon drowns his pancakes in maple syrup. If anyone else in the family has a problem… no one says anything.
Maybe because Dick is glaring ferociously at them all, as if daring them to. He’s the world’s okay-est big brother, after all, he’s gotta make sure his siblings are happy and healthy. That’s just his job.