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Tim knew, objectively, his life had been pretty okay. Like, no one was going around hitting him or yelling or stuff like that till he basically forced Bruce to make him Robin.
A lot of people had a lot worse luck, and Tim was grateful he’d always had a house and food on the table.
Tim was also trying to get the birthday candle to stand up in a chicken nugget.
It was actually the second candle. He’d lit the first candle before trying to stick it in the chicken nugget and make it stand up straight. He only got a small burn on his fingers, but now his hands and chicken nugget numero uno were covered in pink wax.
Unfortunately, due to the inherent weakness of chicken nuggets as a building material, he was having some trouble. If impaling the nugget with the candle didn’t make the nugget split, then great. The problem was that with just one chicken nugget for a base, the candle would flop over because the candle was too top heavy. If he got a second nugget on the candle, it would get too heavy and knock over the candle.
Maybe if he took another candle, he could make legs to spread out the weight so it wouldn’t topple, and…
Great, the chicken nugget couldn’t handle the stress of being impaled again and split, leaving him with another failure. Tim reached for another one from the cookie sheet, only to find nothing but crumbs.
Tim looked around and realized he had broken or utterly bewaxed at least three dozen chicken nuggets. If he wanted to try again, he would need to put another tray in the oven.
I should’ve gotten dino nuggets. Dino nuggets would have more surface area, giving his birthday monstrosity more structural support.
Actually, I should’ve just gotten a cupcake.
Buying your own cake was just kind of sad, though.
In a moment of brief, but profound self-awareness, Tim realized…maybe he just was sad.
Tim threw the whole mess, including the candles, in the trash. Tim didn’t have time to be sad. He really didn’t have time for the whole chicken nugget endeavor…
Tim flicked the lighter and stared at the flame for a moment. Funny how the actual fire meant nothing to him any other day of the year, but…
Tim blew out the flame and tossed the lighter onto the counter. He had to get ready for patrol.
Tim arrived at Wayne Manor with plenty of time to spare. Really, he was way too early, but he didn't have homework since it was July, and he just kind of didn’t want to be in his quiet, empty house.
When he punched in the keycode, he did have to admit that even with no birthday acknowledgement—not even a birthday card with some cash with Love Mom and Dad written in his parents’ assistant’s handwriting—it was pretty kickass to have security clearance for Batman’s house.
Tim figured he’d head to the kitchen till it was time to leave, or he could pretend to work on summer reading in the dining room if he’d be in the way in the kitchen.
He was halfway through the foyer when Dick came running from the direction of the kitchen. Tim had about half a second’s warning before he was snatched up into a hug and swept off his feet.
“Timmy!” Dick cried, shaking Tim back and forth. “I thought I heard you!”
“Dick! I didn’t know you were in town!” Tim grinned. Okay, maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all!
“Just thought I’d come in for a couple days, see the family.” Dick set Tim on the ground. “I heard you’ve been breaking my records on every game we own. I need to challenge you for supremacy. Like right now.”
“Right now?” Tim laughed.
He wasn’t going to fixate on what Dick had said about being in town to see his family, because he could probably drive himself crazy, buuuuuut…
Dick had said he was in town to see his family and he had also said that he heard Tim had been beating him. That kind of seemed like a reason and a subreason instead of two distinct reasons.
Tim knew that it was actually two distinct reasons, but it was his birthday. He could be delusional if he wanted.
Tim loved playing video games with Dick. Bruce had played with him a couple of times, and he was good, but Dick actually liked video games and wasn’t just playing to be nice.
Dick also just casually touched him a lot, and it was weird, but Tim really liked when Dick would punch him in the shoulder or clap him on the back when he did something cool. Even when Dick was trying to kick Tim’s controller to keep Tim from kicking Dick’s ass (which Tim did anyway) it was nice.
Sometimes, Tim felt like he existed more as a theoretical concept than as someone in a body in an actual place and time. The casual touches reminded Tim that he was an actual person.
Dick’s phone chimed halfway through their match, but Dick didn’t answer right away, which was another thing he liked about Dick. Obviously, his parents had work that was important, and Bruce had to run off to save lives and literally prevent alien invasions. Still, Tim liked that he never felt like he was competing with anything for Dick’s attention.
When the match ended, Dick stood up and stretched.
“Are we done?” Tim tried to be casual and not disappointed, also fighting the intrusive impulse to add btw it’s my birthday.
“Pretty sure that was Alfie calling us for dinner.” Dick checked his phone and nodded. “Yeah, he’s ready for us.”
Tim, a little reluctantly, powered off the console. He had kicked Dick’s ass, which was a pretty good accomplishment for the day.
They made their way downstairs, Dick peppering Tim with questions about what he’d been up to and how he’d been and everything. Tim preened under the attention and told Dick everything—which really wasn’t a lot these days, now that he had patrol.
Dick stepped ahead and opened the door for Tim, which was a little weird but—
“SURPRISE!”
Tim jumped a foot in the air at a loud series of pops as colored paper flew in his face. He reached for a batarang that wasn’t there only to find—
Tim’s jaw dropped.
His friends from school gathered around the dining room table, wearing huge grins and tiny pointy party hats. Streamers from the party poppers were strewn over presents and pizza boxes, and Tim could only think Alfred isn’t going to like the mess, but there was Alfred with a camera, taking pictures of Tim’s shocked face.
“Gotcha!” Dick grabbed him around the shoulders and dragged him up to the table. “You nearly gave us all heart attacks getting here an hour early!”
“Happy birthday, Drake!” Ives shouted, blowing one of those silly party whistles.
“Happy birthday, Tim,” Bruce said, and he was also wearing one of those hats.
Tim was not going to cry he was not going to cry he was fourteen he was not going to cry but then Bruce was there and giving him a hug and he just…
Tim sniffled and hugged Bruce tightly, trying to dry his eyes on Bruce’s sweater before anyone could see. Not even his parents remembered.
“Thank you,” Tim whispered.
After pizza and cake (actual real cake with candles and the song and everything) they all watched a horror movie.
Bruce probably went on patrol after the movie, but obviously Tim couldn’t ask what he meant when he told Tim he was going to turn in. Maybe Bruce actually went to sleep.
Dick didn’t go with Bruce, instead persuading Ives and the others that they needed to team up to defeat Tim. Unfortunately, Dick’s plan worked, but Tim would reclaim his spot one day.
Everyone else started dropping like flies after around three, leaving just Tim and Dick left awake and competing for first place.
“Hey, Dick,” Tim said as they were finishing the last lap. So close, so close.
“Not gonna work, baby bird.” Dick was locked in, but, well.
“Thanks for today. For the party.”
“Yep, still not getting distracted,” Dick chuckled.
Tim cut him a sideways glance. “My parents forgot.”
Dick’s head snapped up. “They what?”
“They forgot it was my birthday. Normally they send a card, I don’t know if I’ve ever had a party before, but…thanks.”
“Tim that’s so—”
“I WIN, TAKE THAT!” Tim crossed the finish line with a victory cry that roused Ives just enough for Ives to chuck a throw pillow at his head before grumbling back to sleep on the couch.
“Wait, wait, was that all a joke so you could steal top prize?” Dick scowled playfully. “You really had me going there for a second.”
Tim laughed. “Nah, it was real, I was just also trying to distract you.”
He expected Dick to laugh at the ruse-well-played, but Dick didn’t say anything. When Tim glanced over at Dick, he looked kind of sad.
“What’s wrong?” Tim frowned.
Dick shook his head and picked up his controller. “Nothing, baby bird. Rematch?”
“Rematch!”
Tim fell asleep at some point, probably while they were actually playing a game. He only became aware he’d been asleep when he briefly stirred at the sound of movement.
“Huh?” Tim mumbled, blinking groggily.
“Go back to sleep, Tim,” Dick said, dragging a throw blanket over Tim and ruffling his hair. “Same time next year?”
“Yeah,” Tim agreed with a huge yawn, curling up with his blanket. “Same time next year.”