Work Text:
“Jason.”
The following silence clued Tim in on the fact that he probably said something wrong.
He finally glanced up from the computer screen he had been staring at for the last three hours. A spin in his chair had him looking at the shocked faces of some of his family.
Dick looked caught between laughing and crying. Damian looked almost offended? Disgusted, maybe. Steph was very obviously holding back a laugh. And Jason…
Well, Jason’s face was drained of color. He looked like he might get up and bolt at any second, but he would die trying.
Tim wracked his brain on what he possibly could have said to cause this kind of reaction.
He looked up, scanning his recent memory for whatever it is he missed.
About three hours ago, after getting back from a Young Justice meeting, he ventured into the cave, ready to delve into the cold case he had been given from the Commissioner.
He was alone when he first got down there, too late for the day shifters, too early for the night shift.
He had two cans of Zesti with him, running on fumes as it was, and got to work.
An unknown amount of time later and night shift returned from patrol, bringing Bruce, Dick, and Damian in together.
The three were in and out of the cave for a bit, tying up various loose ends from what he could discern.
Then it was Jason and Steph next, coming down from upstairs. Jason was working on his bike, then his helmet. Steph was checking on various pieces of her gear, then would inevitably get bored, bother someone until that got boring and the cycle went on.
By then he had been down to half a can of Zesti, Bruce had left to his study, and the remaining four had convened around Jason’s bike, aimlessly chatting as he added yet another new feature. (Tim’s brain deemed the specifics irrelevant, meaning he only held the memory of it being something new, not something being fixed.)
By the time he had finished his drink, the bike was done and his siblings (plus Steph, who refused to be lumped in with the “children of Bruce Wayne” club,) had gathered on the couches by the batcomputer.
That’s when things started to go downhill, Tim guessed.
Thirty minutes ago they gathered near him, making vague conversation, trading questions between them.
He was focused on the case, having finally gotten to the fun part of psychoanalyzing the culprit, and only really kept half an ear out for his name.
He looked back at his siblings, all staring at him in real time, trying desperately to recall what exactly he had answered when Dick said his name a couple minutes ago.
They had been talking about their many name changes, Damian being the only one who had yet to go through a vigilante name adjustment.
Dick was laughing at the way they had all gone in some kind of circle, Jason was smugly explaining that he was just glad to be the more famous version of Red Hood, eat shit Joker, Steph spoke about how it was nice to have shared titles with other heroes but Spoiler would always be hers.
Then that brought them to the hilarity of the fact that all of the Robins were in the room.
And Dick, the little shit, thought it would be a great idea for everyone to pick their favorite Robin, never mind the fact that they were practically all related.
Hence the horror on some faces after Tim admitted that Jason, of all people, was his favorite Robin.
His family watched his face flit through far too many emotions all in one go.
He sucked in a deep breath. “Any chance you guys will believe me when I say I didn’t mean that?”
Steph no longer cared about holding in her laughter. “You should see your face! Oh this is the best day of my life!”
Tim glared at her, a thing that hadn’t worked in ages.
Dick began sputtering, “You had a picture of me in my Flying Graysons outfit in your room! You were dating Steph! How is this-” He cut himself off in a fit of dramatics.
Jason was eerily silent. Deathly so.
Damian was looking between his brothers, trying to decide whether or not to jump in.
Tim picked at his nail beds. “I’ve told you guys before, don’t ask me things when I’m distracted if you don’t want to hear the truth! Ask me when I’m paying attention and I can say something you’ll find funny and move on, now it’s-”
“It’s true?”
That got all of them to pause. Even Steph’s laughter faded out.
Tim looked away, avoiding eye contact like it might make the scene around him disappear. The only noise around them came from the bats on the ceiling, waking up for the first time that day.
“No one was ever really supposed to know.” He didn’t elaborate. What else could he say to them? That he, Tim Drake, held onto his childish hope for magic so hard that, even after everything, his Robin, the one who made it magical, was still his favorite?
That, despite living through the original attack on Titans Tower, something in him did die that day, only to be slowly revived in a heartachingly slow process that lined up with Jason accepting them as his family again?
They were already looking at him like he was clinically insane. He really didn’t have a case to make for himself.
Half the room looked between Tim and Jason, wondering who would break the silence first.
“Kid, if this is some sick joke-”
Tim’s head snapped up at that. “You really think I’d pull that shit, Jay? You think after everything I’d orchestrate this whole thing just to say fuck you, five years too late?” His scoff was bitter. Everyone in the room could feel the sound of it in their bones.
Tim was getting defensive, he knew that. He was embarrassed, mortified even, and he was picking a fight to have a way out. A reason to storm off and not be bothered.
Then Jason sucked in a deep and uneven breath. The kind that preceded a cry that you tried to claw back, and keep for yourself.
Tim felt the fight leave his body. All the posturing defensiveness was for naught if Jason was going to stand there looking at the floor and taking measured breaths.
“I really didn’t mean to say it. Ask me again and I’ll think of something stupid and cheesy to say, maybe about the actual bird and not any of us-” He cut his own ramble off. “Listen, Jason, I’m-”
“Why?”
His voice was almost broken. Not the kind of sound you’d expect to leave the mouth of a man over six feet and built like a double-wide fridge. It freaked Tim out.
“Do you really want to know the answer to that?”
Jason finally made eye contact with Tim. The miniscule nod he gave felt monumental.
Tim had to collect his thoughts. There was simultaneously too much and not enough for him to say. They had all gone through their backstories with each other, they had all read the files Bruce kept on all of them.
But Tim didn’t know if he could say that it was Jason that kept him alive.
He didn’t know if he could admit that following Batman and Robin around for the two years Jason was Robin was the only thing that kept his sanity intact. The only thing that he woke up to do every day.
They all openly and freely joked about Tim’s “stalker” days. The photos he had taken were littered around their rooms, displayed in places guests weren’t allowed. But this, admitting all of it was his own way of making his life mean something? It felt too heavy for a one off comment.
Tim cleared his throat. “I always loved Robin. Before I knew it was Dick and Bruce, I saw the pair saving the city and thought it was the only thing that could ever matter. Then, I found out that Robin was the same awesome kid I met at the circus who had his world torn apart. I remember my mother telling me that I could get a copy of the photo we took, but it was more important for that kid to have the original.” He sucked in a breath. Talking about the few fond memories he had of Janet and Jack Drake was never easy.
He watched Dick take Damian’s hand in his and knew he had to press on.
“When she explained to me that the actual photo would mean so much more than just a copy, and that the family deserved that opportunity, it sparked my interest. That’s when I started taking photos. Bad ones, of course, but pictures still. Shitty digital camera shots, ones that I would give away the film for if the subject was within reach.”
Tim didn’t know why he started here. Why any of it was relevant. But a glance over at Jason, finally able to look up and around at their family, and he knew it was the right choice.
Another deep breath in and he continued. “Then I come to figure out that Robin and the person who got me into photography were the same person. Obviously I was immediately enthralled. My free time had already consisted of me training myself, making myself believe I could do something meaningful like they did, some day. What difference would it make if I made my training more practical?”
This was the hard part. The part he had to admit he was so neglected that he could leave the house in the dead of night to follow around vigilantes. That the cuts, scrapes, bruises, and near misses all went unnoticed because no one cared enough.
“By the time I was even able to keep up with them, Dick was out on his own. I got to see Batman find a kid stealing tires from him, and instead of ignoring him, and letting him try to make it on his own, he helped the kid. The kid went from barely scraping by, living on the street with nothing to his name, to Robin.”
His voice grew hoarse, and his throat tightened. He could feel his pulse racing, a combination of far too much caffeine, the very little sleep he was on, and the topic at hand.
“He became Robin and it was like magic. What felt like overnight there was suddenly someone new inspiring the hope Gotham was sorely lacking. That first month I don’t think I stayed home a single night. I would camp out on rooftops near where they stood. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the person singlehandedly making me feel like a kid who could believe and hope.”
Gods, he wished one of his brothers would stop him. Shut him up. Hell, two of them had attacked him before, why did they have to be on a good streak now? One look at Jason’s face made him realise why they hadn’t. He looked so young sitting on the couch next to Dick. Tim could almost superimpose the bright costume and mask onto his face.
“This Robin, that was my Robin. For two years I followed his every move. He liked fruit snacks? That’s the only thing I wanted to eat. He smiled while fighting crime? Maybe I could smile every time my parents sent me an email saying they weren’t coming back like they said.”
Tim blew out a breath. He wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t. He was grateful his chair was further away from everyone, it gave him the ability to wrap his arms around himself tightly.
“The days that I didn’t want to get out of bed because I knew no one would be in the house waiting for me, those were the days I reminded myself that Robin saved everyone. Batman and Robin didn’t pick and choose. Hell, the Robins were worse off than I was and yet Batman knew they were worth something. That Robin reminded me that I could be worth something.”
He felt a hot tear slip down his face. Gods, that was mortifying. He couldn’t even keep it together.
“So yeah, Jay, you were and are my favorite Robin. Despite the fact that you’ve brought me closer to death more times than most of the people in this room, you are also the person who saved my life everyday for years. It was in your absence that I realised that, not only did Batman need Robin, I did too.” He couldn’t stop the slow drip of tears. But he could turn his chair around and face the screen once more.
He sniffled and cleared his throat. “That’s why you guys shouldn’t ask me shit when I’m not paying attention. Doesn't bode well for anyone.” He tried for a joke, the wet laugh didn’t do much to quell the heavy atmosphere.
Tim pretended to turn back to the case, hoping time would turn back with him. He looked at the words on the screen, not really seeing them.
He heard movement on the couch behind him, based on the heavy step he figured it was Jason. Preparing to storm off, if he had to guess.
When it wasn’t followed by another step, Tim started to tense. Why Jason would be silently standing behind him, he didn’t know.
It was the not knowing that always bothered him.
At least this time he did know he didn’t have to fear the click of a gun. They were long passed fearing each other, at least in a genuine physical danger sense.
Tim forced his shoulders to drop. He feigned composure, pretended his mind wasn’t running away from him.
With a hand flying to his face to quickly slap the tears away, he resolved to never speak of this again.
There were far more important things to think about than the fact that he spent a majority of his adolescence hoping and searching for a reason to live.
Or the fact that his very reason to live had tried to kill him on multiple occasions.
They were past it. They didn’t talk about it unless as a joke. There was nothing more to say on the matter.
Tim shook the hair out of his face, attempting to clear his mind and focus on the very interesting cold case waiting for him. Oh how he wished he thought to bring a third Zesti.
When he heard Jason’s steps begin, Tim fought to keep the relaxed line of his shoulders from tensing. He let his hands move across the keyboard. He typed up faked theories and findings just to keep himself occupied.
When the steps grew louder and not quieter, so did Tim’s suspicion. His hands didn’t stop their movement, but the words on screen were growing more and more incoherent.
By the time Jason was right behind him, Tim was glad no one else could see what he was typing.
Tim could have never predicted Jason would lean over his chair and drape himself across his back.
The contact made him flinch, hardly noticeable compared to the way he melted under the warmth and tender hug immediately after.
He reached up to hold Jason’s arms, “Idiot, if you want a proper hug you have to let me stand up.”
Jason grumbled above him. “It’s not a hug, fucker. I’m suffocating you.”
“Real convincing when your arms aren’t even around my neck. If you wanted to suffocate me I’d have passed out already.”
“Timothy is correct, you have prime access to truly suffocate him.” Damian chimed in, for the first time since Dick asked the stupid question that got them into this mess.
Dick laughed, a quiet genuine laugh. “I could try my hand at suffocating both of you at the same time? Don’t know how successful it would be…”
Tim could practically hear the grin on his face.
“Dude, if you want a group hug they’re in no position to stop you. Just drag Dami along and make it a Tim Pile.”
Tim’s eyes snapped open at Steph’s words.
“Jay, you gotta get us out of here. The last time Dick formed a Tim Pile I was stuck for seven hours without a single thing to distract me.” Tim shuddered. His clingiest brother coined the term Tim Pile when he found it was the quickest way to incapacitate Tim and get him to sleep.
Tim could outsmart them if they came one at a time. Brute forcing their way into a large pile in which he is trapped under at least one man the size of a fridge? He couldn’t even pretend to make his escape, especially at his most sleep deprived while his muscles were screaming at him to stop moving.
Jason laughed in his ear. Still draped over him and the chair.
His laughter abruptly cut off when they heard Dick get up off the couch. “Hold on tight and don’t look back, we’re getting the fuck outta dodge.”
True to his word, Jason spun the chair and plucked Tim right out of it. Tossed over his brother’s shoulder, Tim’s Robin training kicked in. He went as limp as possible and wrapped both his arms and one of his legs around Jason.
As Jason took off, gearing up to leave the cave and disappear into the manor, Tim looked back to the remaining three and stuck his tongue out.
Dick, knowing which battles to pick, decided to drop his pursuit of Jason and Tim and instead focus his attention on Damian and Steph.
Tim watched Dick grab the back of Damian’s hoodie like a mother cat grabbing a baby by the scruff. He also noticed that the brat was wearing his hoodie, the one he managed to steal from Kon that he had been looking for all week.
Steph was trying to make a slow escape, hoping if she was discreet enough she could hide until Dick got his fill.
She had no such luck. With Damian dangling in his hold, Dick used his other hand to grab Steph by the waist, locking his grip around her.
That was the sight Tim was left with by the time Jason got them out of view.
Tim finally let himself let out a sigh of relief.
He got through… all of that without interruption or adverse reaction for the time being.
This gave him time. He could sit down, catalogue what he said, how everyone took it, and extrapolate their most likely reactions moving forward.
He could lie down with something for his mind to focus on as he futilely attempted to sleep at a decent hour.
This was great, Jason would drop him off in some corner of the manor, he would make his escape out to his Nest, which was likely in desperate need of a scented candle and, if Alfred wasn’t superhuman by design, would have probably needed a good dusting.
There, alone with his security system to tell him as soon as someone was within a hundred feet, he could let it all out. On his own he could stuff all his big feelings back into their dark boxes that were locked three times over.
In his isolation he could- wait a moment. Jason was leading them to the library in the west wing of the manor. The one Tim knew was secretly his favorite despite being smaller and containing more textbooks than novels.
(It was because it was around the middle of the list of places the family would look for him. Jason could go there and have a couple of unbothered hours by the time they remembered there was another seating area in the house that hadn’t been checked. Tim sometimes sat with him silently, letting the wind through the open window make the extent of the noise in the room.)
Tim knew this room had one way in and one way out. He wasn’t stupid enough to jump out a third floor window without his gear… anymore.
“Jay, you can let me down now, I don’t think Dick is gonna be hunting us down.”
“Nah.”
“Well isn’t that a lovely and very specific answer, I didn’t know you could be so helpful, Jason.” Tim deadpanned, still limply hanging onto him.
Jason’s scoff told Tim it was accompanied by an eyeroll, even if he couldn’t see it. “Fine. Nah, we’re going to sit in the library. Happy?”
Tim pinched the back of Jason’s neck with his fingernails, delighting at the affronted noise it pulled out of his brother. “Thrilled.”
It was only another moment before they were in the library, Tim getting tossed onto the comfier of the two couches, rather than being given the opportunity for a more graceful dismount. He let out a quiet “Oof” to really sell it.
Jason clicked his teeth. “You’re gonna sit down and shut up. I’m going to read until one or both of us falls asleep, B will find us in the morning and experience a heart palpitation at how fucking adorable his kids are, and you’re gonna like it.” Jason threw a glare over his shoulder, directly contradicting the meaning behind his aggressive sounding speech.
Tim rolled his eyes and figured he should get comfortable. He dragged over the huge matching ottoman, the one that could practically turn the couch into a makeshift bed, butting it up to where he was previously thrown. He pulled the pillows and blankets out of the baskets they sat in, littered around every seating area in the manor, including this one.
“Don’t pick something depressing.” He called out over his shoulder as he laid out blankets.
“Fucking duh, what do you take me for? An idiot? Don’t answer that!” Jason practically cut himself off with how quickly he finished speaking.
Tim didn’t bother quieting his laugh. “Whatever you say, man.”
It was only for the silence in the rest of the house that Tim managed to hear the paperback being thrown at him. And it was only his intensive training of his reaction time with Young Justice that prevented it from socking him directly in the head.
(Three powered people with the ability to move faster than Tim could think would make a guy a bit quicker on his feet.)
“You’re lucky that didn’t concuss me. Try explaining that one to Bruce.” Tim smiled, mostly joking.
“I wouldn’t have thrown it at you if I thought you wouldn’t catch it. Not fair to the book.” Jason’s raised eyebrow got Tim to break first and laugh.
Jason laughed with him, shaking his head as he made his way back over to the couch. “Alright enough of that, lay down and get comfortable, I’m not moving for the rest of the night.”
Tim laughed, but complied, leaving the book on what was going to be Jason’s half of the couch. “A Series of Unfortunate Events, classic, but I didn’t think it was your style?”
Jason leveled an unimpressed look at him. “Right. Three orphans and their misadventures in being manipulated for their money. Definitely not relevant to any parts of our lives, at all.” Jason grabbed the book and turned to grab a bookmark as Tim settled in.
By the time Jason turned back he was met with the sight of Tim bundled in a soft blanket taking up half the couch, a pillow holding him upright enough to read, but not so much that his neck would ache in the morning if he fell asleep.
He wasted no time in getting in next to him, pressing their shoulders together.
Tim took advantage of their height difference as soon as Jason settled, and dropped his head onto Jason’s shoulder. Jason could feel Tim’s hair brushing his neck and ignored it, much more content knowing someone was near, rather than having the small tickle removed from his neck.
Jason shot off a quick text, (“ws libr w timbit” sent to Bruce, so he would be the one to find them, not either of their idiot brothers or auxiliary family members,) before shutting off the notifications and picking up the book.
“”If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book.” I always loved how this book opened.” Jason began. “It sets up from the jump what you’re getting into, and you want to keep reading anyways. It’s fascinating.”
Tim glanced up at the half of Jason’s face he could see from his place leaning against him. “I agree. Expectations are low and he doesn’t disappoint. We’ve both had enough disappointment for at least thirteen lifetimes.” Tim could hear himself getting sleepy.
Jason’s warmth pressed against him and the soft plush couch beneath him seemed to be a lethal combination. Or, at least a fatigued one.
Jason continued reading aloud, pausing only to make comments he felt were necessary to the reading experience (all of them.)
After about an hour of reading, which was a bit less than halfway through the book, Jason noticed Tim’s breathing finally even out. He read for another thirty minutes before he was confident the kid wouldn’t wake up on him if he gently laid them down.
After a frankly embarrassing attempt, Jason managed to get them situated comfortably. His arm was going to be numb by the time they woke up, with how it was pinned under Tim’s deadweight, but he couldn’t really bring himself to give a fuck.
He flipped the pages of the book back to the last moment he was certain Tim was awake and placed the bookmark. (Bookmark was a strong word for the old receipt he found in one of the novels he had picked up at random.)
Jason let himself relax and lean into the couch, burrowing in and getting comfortable.
He knew they’d have to, ugh, talk about it eventually. There was no way Dick wouldn’t tell the whole story to Bruce with three times the water works.
If it was just up to the two of them, Jason was sure they would sit quietly together in this very library, offer drinks when they left for the kitchen, bringing back snacks even when the other didn’t ask. It would be books left on the pillows of his safehouses, ones he hadn’t even planned on visiting, with receipts showing the purchases having been made within the week. It would be the understanding that, if Jason carried him up to bed from the Batcomputer, it was strictly so he wouldn’t drool on the desk, and there were to be no follow up questions.
But the little show they put on for the peanut gallery would make for an interesting enough family dinner.
The rest of the bats never knew what to do in the face of Jason and Tim siding with each other unthinkingly. The unspoken rule of “go along with it and I’ll work it out” that was the foundation of their trust made the rest of the family wary, rightfully so.
As Jason drifted off to sleep, he imagined a world in which talking about feelings wasn’t worse than being actually, physically shot.
A world where he and Tim never had their fights and were able to see each other as siblings when they needed it most.
For now, though, he would be happy with what he got. A world where they could sit and read, trust each other enough to fall asleep in the same room, he could live with that.
Bonus:
Bruce blinked at his blurry phone, trying to desperately get the brightness to lower and stop blinding him.
Seeing a text message from Jason sent his heart into overdrive, fearing he had missed the worst. Once his brain came back online and he realized it was a four-word text message from Jay’s civilian number to his personal cell, he was able to calm down.
After figuring out whatever the hell Jason meant with the thirteen letters he sent, Bruce found his slippers and made his way to the west library room. He knew it was definitely daytime, but the inner halls of the manor were so lightproof that it could be pitch black in the middle of the day and it wouldn’t make a difference.
Once he made the short trip, he paused a few feet from the door. Bruce listened for any movement or signs that anyone was inside. When he heard nothing, he gently pushed the door open and peaked in.
It was only years of seeing crazier than life itself shit as Batman that kept Bruce from audibly reacting.
He found Tim and Jason sprawled out on the couch and ottoman, which had been pushed together to form a makeshift bed. Tim’s face was squished between the couch and one of Jason’s arms. Jason’s other hand was resting by his head, while his feet were being nearly pushed off the edge of the “bed” by Tim’s.
Bruce fumbled with his phone for a moment, needing to get a picture of this moment to cherish for the rest of time.
After snapping the photo, (who was he kidding, multiple photos and one video to prove that they both snore the way he does,) Bruce was able to take in the scene even further.
He noticed the book peaking out from under Jason’s arm, the obscene amount of blankets surrounding them, the way Tim was still somehow swaddled, despite his sprawl.
The morning light was barely peaking through the window, shadowed by the house.
His boys had carved out a nice corner for themselves here, he noted. He wondered if this was a place they came often, or something they stumbled into for one evening.
He stood for a moment, just taking in the scene and the peace that came with it. It wasn’t often he got to witness these things, they were often flitting by in a rush that meant no one got to enjoy it from the outside.
Bruce was so happy that Jason texted him, he must have known Bruce would find them.
He was sure there was some kind of story that preceded this, probably not a great one if the faded tear tracks on Tim’s face were anything to go by, but for now he would enjoy the fact that his boys were safe and together.
He’d get the story out of Dick later, anyways.