Work Text:
Everyone had been noticing it for a while now - how one genius teenager would spend more time next to the computer than in a bed, how he slept at the most random times, how the bright stubbornness that had made him so lovable had been forcibly shoved away in order to be perfect.
The Wayne family could see that Tim Drake (Wayne) was tired.
Whether it had started after his League of Assassins Europe trip, after the Titan’s Tower incident, or even when a bright young kid was forced to parent a near-suicidal adult, it was something that no-one could ignore, or push aside for a more alarming situation. Not anymore, not when Duke had been adjusting well, when Cassandra had become the best of them all, when Steph had grown into a better person, when Jason had basically been integrated back into the family (much to his vehement denial), when Damian had grown comfortable enough to feel safe with everyone in the family, and when Dick had stopped fighting with Bruce.
That left only one, the one who had chosen to sacrifice any pain and suffering that he had gone through in order to be what the others described as the ‘Perfect Robin’.
At first, the title felt unreachable, and it had grown far too much resentment between Tim and the others. Now, it was obvious how much of a burden it was to the seventeen year old.
Thus, late at night when Bruce had decided to patrol solely with Tim (he did this a few times a year - specifically when there were very detective-focused cases like the ones the two were investigating now), the six ‘Batkids’ sat in the cave, all for one very specific reason.
“Are we finally going to talk about Timbo now?” Jason broke the ice. He had given up on calling the kid ‘replacement’ ages ago, and Tim had definitely placed himself as (one of) Jason’s favourite family members. It was obvious, and it had been helping Tim; having Jason caring about him let the lithe man get at least some decent meals a week - even if it wasn’t enough for Tim to surpass the bare-minimum weight for vigilante work.
“Wait– we’re finally talking about it? I thought that you all decided to push aside Tim’s problems like, years ago,” Duke responded, and the rest of them were a bit shocked at how… bitter the usually bright teen sounded. He looked up at them all, raising his eyebrow.
“What, he was my Robin, you think that all of us didn’t notice how shit the rest of ya’ll treated him?
…No one could argue against that.
“...Brother has been suffering in silence, no one had the time to pick him first,” Cassandra said quietly, braiding Stephanie’s golden locks with near-artistic precision. The purple-clad girl hummed in agreement, tilting her head back a bit.
“Unlike y’all, I actually dated that Boy Wonder; and looking back it was damn obvious that he was a fucking master at repressing whatever shit he was going through. Like; I died, his parents died, Bruce technically died, those two meta friends that he had died, and like– none of us were there for him. Not enough for a– fuck, a sixteen year old to get much comfort. I forget that I’m a year older than him sometimes, he just grew up so fast,” Steph grimaced, gripping her thigh before Cass gently pulled her hand away. Damian then raised his hand to speak, opening his mouth after Dick gave a nod.
“...I do not have much to talk about in this regard, considering that I also severely hurt Drake, but he did not deserve how we, and especially I have been treating him,” Damian stated, his voice articulate yet quiet from where he was resting on Dick’s shoulder, who immediately came for his defense.
“Little D, you were a child, you don’t have to blame–”
“That doesn’t exempt me from being in the wrong, Baba! I– Drake, no– Akhi still suffered regardless, and he still deserves an apology. Or some kind of help. From myself, or from everyone here who hurt him!”
The room went dead silent at the youngest boy’s pleads, the weight of his words heavy on every person in the room - all of them had hurt Tim in one way or another, whether it be physical, mental, or even by just staying silent throughout it all. After a few moments of room-wide silence, Jason finally broke it.
“...The Kid’s right, we shouldn’t be– discussing how fucked up Timbo is, we should be preventing it,” the resurrected man sighed, and the rest of the group nodded or hummed in agreement.
Tim Dra— no, Wayne was tired.
And his family intended to help him.
Let the mission commence.
────
Tim was a bit surprised when he saw Duke tap his shoulder. He knew that Duke was a bit… starstruck over him, but they didn’t talk often - it didn’t offend Tim, most of people in this family tended to do so. It hurt, but Tim had come to accept it.
“Hey, can I– show you something? If you’re not busy?” Duke asked, rubbing the back of his neck - and Tim paused in slight surprise before slowly nodding. He had been busy working on contingencies, but none were of high risk - they were contingencies if at least three of the vigilantes were currently unavailable, which was incredibly unlikely considering just how many there were now. He knew that Duke probably felt a bit insecure of his place in the family (boy, did Tim know how that felt), and while Tim was definitely not the best person to seek comfort from, he wasn’t going to deny family.
Duke led him to his room, and Tim was slightly in awe at how… tall the teen was. Actually, everyone in the damn manor, even Cass and Steph, were taller than him, and Damian was certainly not going to be an exception. Must have been the healthy (or at least healthier) habits, which Tim had… likely no hope of replicating. And besides, Jack Drake was not known for his height. It still made Tim a bit nervous sometimes though, with everyone towering over him while depending on him at the same time.
The two boys sat on the bed, and Tim was grateful that the action evened out their heights a bit. The younger teen nervously pulled out a box from his nightstand, handing it to Tim. Tim kept it on his lap, and carefully opened it, his eyes widening as he saw its contents.
“...Photos?” Not just any photos - they were photos from Tim’s Robin era, when he had to help fight in the Narrows. They were similar to Tim’s own collection of photos, being surprisingly decent-quality shots with good action poses. The camera was definitely of a lower-quality to Tim’s own, but most people didn’t sneakily spend thousands of their parent’s cash to buy a Fujifilm GFX 100, and Duke certainly had the skill regardless.
“Do you like them? I used to take some after being inspired by this Bat-Watch blog that would post these super good pictures of Dick and Jason. They didn’t have any of you, so I… decided to try my hand at it. Dick said that you would like them, so you can keep them if you want?
Tim was a bit speechless. He carded through every photo with utmost care, shocked at the memory of just how… young he was. And he looked so bright, even when Batman was the opposite.
He looked like a Robin, the sun in Gotham’s night sky.
“I– you do know that I was the Bat-Watch photographer, right?” Tim chuckled breathily, and that chuckle only grew as he saw Duke bluescreen.
“Wait– really?!”
“Yeah, I would sneak out to take the photos and post them. I… I think I understand now, why Dick and Jason reacted the way that they did when they realised it was me,” Tim had been a bit surprised at Dick’s teary reaction to his photos, and with Jason literally pinning them up in his main safehouse. But he got it now - the feeling of seeing how someone else saw you - the visible proof that in at least one person’s eyes, you were a hero.
It felt really nice.
“I– well, can I see your camera? There’s a really good teahouse nearby where we could eat and talk?” Duke offered with a nervous chuckle, and Tim smiled.
“Yeah, I’ll pay.”
He was absolutely buying Duke the best camera money could possibly buy, but later. After a meal. Duke needed food.
(Duke was absolutely ecstatic - he had been able to chat about photographs, connect with Robin III who was the Bat-Watcher, and get Tim to eat a full meal while relaxing!
Mission: Accomplished.)
────
(Cass probably had it the easiest - she just walked up to Tim while he was on his sixth Zesti.
“Brother, can we have a sleepover?”
“Cass– I have to finish this–”
“Please?”
“...”
Tim had no choice, he was forced into getting a good night’s sleep and a full breakfast the next day with Alfred’s special tea.
Yup, Cass was the best sister.
Mission: Accomplished.)
────
“Boy Wonder, Timbo, Tim, Tim!” Steph whined over the phone, and Tim was half-motivated to just cut the call. The people-pleaser in him refused to of course, so he sighed; pushing his extra WE paperwork aside and stood up from his desk, leaning his back against it.
“What Steph, I’m in the middle of work,” Tim groaned, and he could sense her rolling her eyes from across the device.
“You mean that you’re busy rechecking work for the fiftieth time until Tam threatens to taser you.”
“...Fuck you, actually.”
“So, Wonder Boy, I require you to go shopping at Gotham Central with me!”
“...Steph, I literally have the worst taste in fashion?”
“I know! This is for you, not me.”
“Steph, I am not going–”
“It’s either me or Dick.”
“...”
“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”
“Literally die.”
“Done and dusted!”
“Oh fuck you–!”
(Tim had a blast, and bought way too many clothes that made his waist look way too good. They got hot-pot for lunch, and got to enjoy a day out without the risk of a rogue ending them.
He had sent an apology to Tam for missing work for fun, who had responded with an eloquent ‘Thank Fuck’.
Truly, everyone was out to get him, trying to make him enjoy life or some shit.
Steph was just grinning like an idiot as she saw her best boy-friend actually enjoy life while also looking hilarious when he burnt his mouth during hot-pot.
Mission: Accomplished.)
────
The problem was that Tim could read Dick very well.
It was partly due to basically stalking the man the moment Tim learned how to, and also because if Tim can read Bruce, the rest of the family is a piece of cake.
So it is glaringly obvious that Dick wants to drag Tim out of whatever he was currently doing.
Tim wasn’t doing anything incredibly important, but he definitely didn’t have the time for a very long go-out thing, not with a board meeting in four hours.
“Hey, Timmers!” Dick grinned, and Tim could predict what he was going to ask; going to train-surf or running around Blüdhaven or anything that Tim would have to (painfully—) decline for the nth time because he’s just too busy (he misses his brother—) and his workload wont complete itself (Tim is so tired–)
“You wanna cook with me?”
…
Huh?
“You can cook?” Tim asks, insanely confused. Dick usually made decisions that mainly benefitted himself, so why was he doing something that he wasn’t talented in?
“Hey, I’m hurt! I’m no Jason, but I can cook, y'know? Come on, it’ll be fun!”
Dick was just so full of energy.
Maybe it was the lack of breakfast, that made Tim agree.
(Maybe it was Tim’s inability to say no when he’s just so desperate to finally be in the center of his brother’s attention again— -)
“...Okay,” Tim says far too softly for his liking, shooting up from his seat. Dick beams, and Tim can’t hide how happy that makes him (he made his brother smile!); sharing a smaller smile of his own as Dick takes his hand and drags him to the kitchen.
The two decide to make Goulash - a dish that Dick loved purely because of his mother.
Neither of them were master chefs by any means, but they could follow recipes well; they put the soup together before Tim had to leave for his meeting, so that when he came back before patrol the kitchen was smelling like paprika, meat, and home.
It was a treat for just the two of them after patrol, with Dick and Tim eating in the attic under the moonlight.
The delicious taste of homemade Goulash was heavenly after a night of cold patrol, but nothing compared to the high of having Dick spend all his attention on Tim - he felt like he was Robin again, seeing the older man as the greatest person to ever grace Tim’s world.
So yeah, Tim soaks it all up. He talks about his meetups with Young Justice, how Steph has been hanging out with him, how Duke and him have been connecting over photography, and Dick—Dick just lets him talk, lets him run his mouth and god– Tim has barely been able to experience anything like this that wasn’t three years ago.
And when the two have finally finished talking; Dick drags him into a hug, and Tim melts, because this has absolutely been the best day of Tim’s year. He’s quick to fall asleep after that, with the taste of warm meat soup on his tongue and the feeling of his big brother holding him. Tim doesn’t think that life could ever be better than this moment.
(Dick looks at the brother fallen fast asleep in his arms, in equal parts awe and excruciating pain. How long has it truly been since he’s been able to spend time with this boy?
The two had been near-locked at the hip until Jason, and then Damian. It hurt to look at the tired frame of the man who was a barrel of pure, unfiltered light just a few years ago.
It hurt even more of just how happy Tim looked as Dick gave him his time, just for an evening - just how little of it was he even giving to the boy? Tim was enjoying this as if this a monumental event that didn’t happen more than once a year (and was he even wrong to think that—?).
Dick had never realised just how much the time the two of them spent together had cut down, because…
Tim was just… easy. He listened to everything that everyone said, he always accepted any changes; he never pushed, never shoved for anyone's time.
And fuck– everyone had really taken advantage of that, huh?
Calling him the ‘hardest working’, when the truth of the matter is that he doesn’t know what else to do with a family who always, always picks him second. Or third. Or last.
Dick hated that, god— it made him feel sick the more he thought about it. He didn’t want that to be the case anymore, not when his little brother was asleep in his hug and just looked so content eating Dick’s mom’s recipe, the one that the three of them used to share, the one that meant family—
Dick was absolutely going to do better. For Tim.
For his baby brother.
(For the boy who had been there since the day Dick lost his world, even if the elder boy didn’t know it yet.)
The first mission was to actually spend time with Tim in a way that helped the silly boy, and Dick succeeded with that. It was the first step before many, many more, but—
Mission: Accomplished.)
────
…Well, this wasn’t how Damian expected to bond with his Akhi.
He had a plan; he had allotted a slot in Timothy’s work calendar, so he could learn more about directing Wayne Enterprises while also having another talking point with Akhi. He would also be able to provide his brother with ample water and food, thus improving his health. A foolproof plan made by the superior son.
But then he saw the enormous pile of sweets on his Akhi’s work-couch.
“...Ak–Drake, what is the meaning of this?” That made Timothy looked up from his work, taking a glance at the bedazzled pile of chocolates and candies before sighing as if he had just noticed them.
He stood up, picked up a piece in his hand, and popped it into his mouth.
“Mm, yeah, these are poisoned. Don’t eat them, Damian.”
“They’re what?!”
Of course his Akhi is nonchalant about this, even after he ate one of the–
“ Timothy, you know that I have immunity against most poisons? You should have just let me test the chocolates, the League trained me to–”
“The league trained me to as well, you know?
“Wha– huh?!” Damian couldn’t even pretend to be uncaring about his Akhi here; he knew that Tim had suffered a confrontation with his grandfather, but to be so close as to have sweets sent…
…
His grandfather was personally sending sweets to Timothy?!
“--And besides, you shouldn’t have to abuse your disgusting training for me, I’m the big brother - I should take care of you,” Timothy continued, as if he hadn’t just eaten one himself—
Damian needed to punch his Akhi. Or hug him. Very aggressively.
Due to a split moment of weakness (it was weakness, Baba!) Damian decided to go with the second option. Timothy let out a surprised oof– before pulling Damian a bit closer, patting his head.
“Hey, don’t worry about me, your grandfather is just a dick . You wanna know how I fucked him over for it?
What vulgar wording.
…
“...Yeah.”
“C’mere, we can grab some non-poisonous food in the meantime.”
(In the end, Damian did succeed, because he got his Akhi to eat and drink like a normal person (at the cost of Damian’s own vulnerability).
The young boy certainly didn’t expect to be connecting with Tim over how his Akhi destroyed his grandfather, but it was a… productive meeting regardless.
Damian then called his mother and near-ordered her to take her father’s place. His mother was all but happy to oblige.
No-one was unhappy when the under-superhero-world learned about the brutal demise of Ra’s Al Ghul.
So, as per usual for the clearly superior blood son—
Mission: Accomplished.)
────
Jason didn’t really care to sneakily stuff self-care into his favourite brother (it was funny that Dick wasn’t even complaining about it— the kid had even become the old man’s favourite).
He just kidnapped him instead.
“Hood– Jay! We have to go on patrol–” Red Robin complained as Jason basically dragged him to the bulkier man’s safe house. It wasn’t even hard, the skinny ass kid was nothing against Jason ‘250 pounds of pure muscle’ Todd.
“Mhm, the patrol where the only thing happening right now is Selina stealing gold so that B can go kiss her ass? I’ve decided to protect children from such horrors tonight–”
“I’m not a child!–”
“—you’re acting like one, Timmers. C’mon, I made seaweed soup. You’re right, Korean food is pretty god-tier.”
“...The one from eomma’s recipes?”
“Yup.”
“...Fuck you, Jason.”
…
The seaweed soup was incredible, as Tim suspected.
Him and Jason just… talked idly, Tim clad in one of Jason’s massive shirts. The younger boy roasted Jason’s food by comparing it to Janet’s, while the elder roasted Tim’s sleeping habits; all of it resulting in playful banter over steaming Korean food.
Tim looked up at the wall of photos in the room, multiple being of the Jaybin photos he took years ago.
(Jason had near-sobbed when he saw those (though he hid it), because not only was Tim good at photography but he also so obviously cared about Robin that Jason and Dick had to get wasted together just to cry over it (and also about how shit Tim’s self-preservation skills are because what the fuck kid).)
The far-too-skinny kid in question turned to Jason, a curious look in his eyes.
“...You all have been doing something.”
…
“Yeah, we have.”
Jason saw no point in denying it - the bond between the two of them grew from the fact that they were painfully blunt with one-another, enough to knock them both out of their bullshit when needed.
“Is this like– shit um– like–” Tim stuffed his mouth with another spoon of soup to stop talking, but Jason raised his eyebrow.
“Is this what?”
Tim couldn’t really hold himself back.
“Is this temporary? Like– are you all just trying to give me some attention before you all move away or something?”
…Oh.
Fuck.
Of course the fucking kid thinks that, why wouldn’t he? Most of this fuckass family has just left him in the dirt, and Jason is the opposite of an exception.
“No, not this time. We– shit kid, we were wrong to push your problems aside because the rest of us had issues.”
“I could handle myself!”
“You could, and that’s fucking incredible Timmers, but you shouldn’t have had to. B’s crazy adoption problem made this house fucking massive, and with god-knows how many of us there should have been someone who prioritised you.”
“You prioritise me…”
“Yeah, and I was three fucking years late for it. Point is– this family finally used a single fucking braincell and decided to use it on you. No, this is not some ‘now that you’ve fixed everything you can finally be the priority’ shit - it’s the fact that this family is a trainwreck who you should probably have the right to maim. Especially B— god I hate how that man trained you.”
“...Oh. Wow,” Tim said quietly, slightly in awe.
(Jason was going to make this boy so used to being prioritised, he wants the kid to be near-spoiled over this shit (not like Tim ever could be - the worst he could be was a little shit).)
“Hey, Jason?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“I’m glad that you’re my brother.”
“Not going anywhere, Timbo.”
There was comfortable silence for a moment.
“…Now finish your soup, I don’t want the ghost of Janet Drake to haunt me.”
Tim finished the soup.
(Somehow, it tasted better with every bite.)
(Jason watched him savour the salty soup, the recipe that the larger man had practised for months to make sure that Tim could still have some connection to his home - god knows he needed one.
He was able to make the kid sleep for a full nine hours, got to shout at B again, and got some banger Korean leftovers which tasted bomb as hell.
Mission: Accomplished.)
────
(“Hey Timbo, you happy?”
Tim looked around the living room, seeing all the people that made time for him.
Who cared about him.
“Yeah, I really am.”
And wasn’t that was the true mission accomplished?)