Chapter Text
Tim’s parents were home.
That, in itself, was already an abnormal occurrence. Jack and Janet Drake spent most of the year traveling, rarely every staying home for more than a week at a time. However, here they were, at the Drake Estate for over two weeks.
Normally, Tim would ecstatic at the prospect of spending more time with his parents, if it weren’t for their abnormally foul moods. They have been this way from the moment they arrived, and Tim knows better than to think his presence would do anything but aggravate them further.
Apparently, Drake Industries had lost one of its main shareholders, and the company’s stocks were plummeting. His parents had been freaking out about it for weeks, and Tim had locked himself in his room to shield himself from the loud arguments occurring downstairs. It didn’t do much, as the big, empty house only seemed to make the shouting louder with the profound echos that reverberated through the halls, but sitting in his large walk-in closet, bundled up in multiple large blankets with nothing but his computer and favorite, and only, stuffed animal, a red and black bird plush he’d lovingly named “Robin”, he could find some amount of comfort and safety.
Throughout most of the year when his parents weren’t home, Tim would long for them. He didn’t even care if he had to put up with the yelling, so long as he wasn’t alone . But now, all he wanted was to curl up in a ball and disappear. He hid from them like they were out to kill him, because, quite frankly, he was starting to think they might . He could tell when his parents were angry, he had learned from a young age how to deal with it, but this was different. They weren’t angry , they were desperate . Tim knows that his parents are the type of people who put their business and themselves over anyone or anything, including their own son. That had been abundantly clear from how often they left him alone, told him that they had other things to do than waste time on his problems, and the fact that the only reason they had a child in the first place was to have a fail-safe for their business in case something ever happens to them.
That last one had stung a bit.
Anyways, he knows that they care more about their business than there own son. He had come to terms with that years ago, and, logically, it makes sense. Their business has thousands of people reliant on it working properly, of course his life mattered less to them than the lives of the thousands of people relying on them. That didn’t make it hurt any less, but he understands. Putting himself above thousands of workers would just be selfish, so he shoved those feeling down.
Right now, he knew he had to fend for himself. Step one, avoid his parents wrath. This was the easy one, all he had to do was hide out in his room and make as little noise as possible. If he needs to make noise, go into the closet, as it is smaller which will stop an echo.
Step two, sneak into the kitchen and grab as much non-perishable foods and bottles of water as he can without them noticing. Don’t try to reheat leftovers, as they will definitely be mad if they go looking for their food only to find it missing. Bring the food and water into his closet, where the bags and bottles will make little noise when he eats it.
And step three, if caught, stay silent but attentive. Do not zone out while they are yelling, and stay in the moment. Look as apologetic as possible, but do not cry. Wait until they have tired themself out from yelling and do not attempt to leave, even if seems like they are done. Do not leave until dismissed, and do not say anything unless they ask. Following the incident, be as silent as possible, but stay in the bedroom, not the closet, as they may come back later for a follow-up yelling session. Go back to the closet after the follow-up, or wait two days after the original scolding to go back.
Tim could do this. He could totally do this.
He just thinks it would be easier to do this if he knew for how long .
After the second week of nonstop walking on eggshells, Tim’s mind and body was exhausted. He couldn’t sleep and couldn’t eat, and he felt so emotionally exhausted that he just wanted to say fuck it and just sleep for days rather than deal with his parents bullshit. He ran out of food last night, and was starving, so he decided to risk it and go downstairs for food.
When he made it down the stairs, he was relieved that he didn’t hear any arguments, passive-aggressive or otherwise. He picked up his pace, hoping to make it to the kitchen without anyone noticing, and made it there safely.
He was surprised to see his father sitting at the kitchen island, casually drinking coffee like nothing was wrong. The lack of his seemingly everlasting scowl that had been present since he had first come home surprised him so much that he actually froze in the entrance to the kitchen. His father looked up and smiled brightly at Tim, and Tim’s mind was so confused that it took a few seconds to even realize his father was talking to him.
“-bout time you got up. Your mother and I have something we need to talk to you about.” He caught the end of what his father said. Oh shit , he thought, this can only end badly.
He nodded, made himself some cereal and sat down next to where his father had been sat. He only now noticed he must have left to get his mother. As he ate, he tried to calm his nerves. Maybe they had made a new deal and wanted to apologize for the yelling? Unlikely , his brain supplied, unhelpfully. Maybe they want him to work with a new company to help build better relations? More likely, but still not ideal, seeing as he is 11 .
Maybe they’re going to sell me off to some traffickers for extra cash and use the publicity to gain public support.
Unfortunately, that seems like the most probable option.
Tim hears his parents returning from the other room and takes a deep breath and tries his best to appear calm. You don’t know anything for sure yet , he tells himself. This is all just speculation. You can freak out after you hear it from them.
His parents walk in, both with a small smile on their faces. Tim immediately recognizes it as a Gala Smile™, so he knows that they need him for whatever their plans are. Cross the first option off the list, then. He thinks bitterly.
“Hi sweety,” his mother starts, with a gentle voice that should be calming, but fills Tim with dread. “I feel like I haven’t seen you at all since we got home. How have you been?”
Well, yeah, I’ve been avoiding you like the plague because I thought you might literally kill me. “Good, mom. I know you’ve been busy, so I thought I shouldn’t bother you.” He says, trying to appear as proper but honest as possible.
His father laughs. “That’s my boy. Knows when to leave ‘em be. You’ll make a fine businessman one day.” He says in a tone that sounds almost fond. Tim wants to preen at the compliment, at the kindness in his parents’ eyes, but he knows something is wrong. He knows they want something from him, and if they have to suck up this much to him to get it, he doesn’t even want to think of what it might be.
“Yes, but you see, Timothy, that is actually what we wanted to talk to you about.” His mother says. He internally cringes at being called “Timothy”, and he’s sure his parents know how much he hates that name, but he can’t focus on that right now. “You see, one of our most important shareholders has decided to drop us, and that poses a great threat to our company.” She says, softly, like she’s laying on some devastating news to him.
He tries his best to look worried and determined, ready to do anything to help so they would just get to it faster. “I see. Do you… I mean, is there anything I could do to help?” He says. He tries to make himself seem earnest. His parents deal with reading people’s emotions every day, so his performance must be foolproof if he wants a chance at a say in what happens. He knows that if he shows any bit of resistance beforehand, they’ll come in with an ultimatum, and that would be way more difficult.
Tim sees his mothers soft smile sharpen, so she must’ve bought it. “Yes, actually. You see, we’ve been trying to get Wayne Enterprise to invest in our company,” Tim attention snaps at the mention of the Waynes, their neighbors, and Batman and Robin , “but we’re worried about, ah, putting all our eggs in one basket, so to speak.” She says.
“Okay…” he says, genuinely confused. “So, what can I do?”
His mother sits up straighter, and, despite the faux-warm expression on her face, her eyes are now cold and analytical, the same way she got when swindling a deal with an investor. “Well, while we go off to Paris to meet with some new clients, we need to you to help… persuade Mr. Wayne to work with us.”
Tim did not like the way she said that, and is really hoping he misunderstands what she is asking of him. “Um… how could I persuade him? Will there be a Gala of some sorts?” He asks, innocently. Say it , Tim thinks, I want to hear you say it .
Janet looks back at her husband, who quickly jumps in. “We already cleared it with Mr. Wayne. While we’re away for the next month, you’ll be staying there with his… ’sons’ .” Tim can’t help the feeling of righteous anger that flows through him at the insinuation. He knows what his parents believe, and never once in his life did he believe the rumors. He remembers last year when Jason got adopted.
“I bet that boy was doing this long before Wayne took him in. I still can’t believe he publicly took in some streetrat.” Jack said, appalled.
“I bet the other one got to old for his tastes. Wanted to trade in a new model, and just picked the first one he found.” She took a sip of her coffee and scowled. “He obviously has a type; small, black-haired, blue eyed boys.” Her scowl moved towards Tim, and she looked him up and down, before fixing him with a sturdy glare. “You stay away from them. I don’t want to hear anything about a Drake ending up as Wayne’s new plaything.”
Tim, 10 years old, felt his face flush with embarrassment and anger at the idea. The fact that his own mother not only thinks that his hero was assaulting his own children, but that he would do it to Tim, made him feel sick. He had to get up and leave to avoid them seeing the angry tears he could feel prickling in his eyes.
Remembering that first conversation, his brain seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. “Are you…trying to sell me ?” He asks. Damn it, I hate that I’m always right , he thought.
Tim’s mother comes closer, and sits next to him, the swivel chairs facing each other, and holds both his hands. She has a look on her face that is almost sympathetic, like she’s not the one who’s actively trying to sell her 11 year old son as a prostitute. “Listen honey. Sometimes we need to do things we don’t want to do for our business. And, as our heir, this is your business too. This is something we need you to do.”
What Tim wants to say is, “ Fuck no! This is so illegal! Not to mention disgusting and morally unforgivable!” but he’s too distracted by his mother holding his hands. It was the closest thing to physical affection he can recall her ever giving him, and his mind seems to bluescreen. He doesn’t want her to let go.
“Um…” he manages to get out. “...yeah, okay…”
“Thank you, Timothy.” he hears her say. Tim looks back up, and his mom has the same kind looking expression she had when she walked in. He feels warm, like he did something right, and that seems to drown out all other thoughts he has regarding how horrible what they just told him was.
His father walks up to him, and reaches out to ruffle his hair. If he noticed the way Tim flinched when he reaches towards him, he doesn’t mention it. “That’s my boy. I knew you’d understand.”
Tim can’t help but lean in to the touch, and a genuine smile forms on his face. He feels warm, in a way he can’t remember ever feeling. But as quickly as it forms, it slips away, as the hand leaves his head and the other hands left go of his. In the absence of the warmth, his arms just fall, like a puppet with its strings cut, and the cold comes back. As he watches his parents leave the room, he distantly realizes that now he’s even colder than he was before.