Chapter Text
“You left a book.”
“… what?”
“A book.” Tim shifted on the fire-escape, leaning against the wall of the building. He could hear Jason moving around inside, dishes clinking. The man refused to take a full day off of his feet, even recovering from a sickness.
“Yeah, for Jason. He, uh, enjoyed being read to, once. He still might. I didn’t think he’d enjoy it if it was me, though.”
Tim turned the small paperback over in his hand, scanning the back cover. It was in good condition. “He’s read this one. To me.”
“Oh.” An awkward pause. “I can pick it up.”
“That wasn’t my point.”
“Then… what was?”
Tim didn’t answer for a moment. It was peaceful here, on the edge of the outside of their apartment. The sounds of cars drifted from Gotham proper, and a shady figure slunk by on the sidewalk below. Someone shouted a few stories down; a man that aggressively encouraged his wife when she was training for her next marathon. Jason only let good people stay in his apartment. No one knew that it ran that way, though. Or that it was owned by the Red Hood. People liked to mind their own business.
It was probably the most dangerous neighborhood in Gotham, and Tim had never felt safer.
Dick stayed quiet. The silence wasn’t as awkward as it could have been; as it was a few days ago. Something had changed, when Dick had helped with Jason’s sickness; when he had brought groceries and locked the door behind him and stayed out of their territory every minute since. Tim wasn’t so sure he wanted to name that something yet, but it was something. And it wasn’t digging a hole in his chest.
“I dunno,” he finally said, knocking his head back against the brick. “I guess I wondered if you left it on purpose.”
“Oh. Yeah. I did.”
Of course he did. Tim had known that. He knew that Dick knew. Neither of them pointed out that this conversation, entirely pointless, was an excuse for something else. Something Tim couldn’t place. “That was nice of you.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I just wanted him to feel better, y’know? It sucks when Jay’s sick. He’s…” Invincible. “so strong all the time.”
“Yeah.” Tim glanced inside of the apartment, smiling at his brother’s back. The man was making a huge deal out of choosing a t-shirt from the pile of laundry on the bed; an easy excuse to listen in on Tim’s conversation. “I know what you mean.”
“Hm.” Another silence fell. This one was easier. Still, unspoken apologies and broken promises and futile wishes hung heavy in the air, swirling gently with the Gotham smog.
“Hey,” Dick finally murmured, sincere. “Take care of him. He’s a good guy. He deserves a brother, a family like you.”
Tim’s throat closed up. He didn’t speak for a moment. He couldn’t.
“I love you, Tim,” Dick said gently. “Both of you.”
“Yeah,” Tim murmured quietly, overwhelmed.
“Alright. I’ll be in touch.”
Tim took the phone away from his ear, staring at the ended call. Huh. Dick had hung up first.
“All good?” Jason questioned as Tim climbed back through the window.
“Yeah.” Tim handed Jason a shirt from the bed, since his brother still hadn’t decided. “He says hi.”
Jason scoffed quietly. “Sure he does.”
Tim smiled to himself. “I love you,” Dick had said; something Tim had barely been able to hear. Jason definitely wasn’t ready to hear that yet. Maybe he would be, someday. Maybe Dick would tell him face-to-face.
“Get geared up,” Jason ordered him, slipping into the bathroom.
Tim smacked the bathroom door, exasperated. “You can’t come on patrol with me, Jay; I told you. You’re sick.”
“I’m not sick anymore, baby bird. Temperature's normal.”
“You’re still recovering!!!”
The bathroom door opened, and Jason stepped out in full Red Hood gear, a glint in his teal eyes. “I’m not letting you go alone, kiddo.”
Tim carefully took in Jason’s posture & body-language before nodding. His brother wasn’t mad. Just… determined.
Jason’s expression softened, and he gently shoved Tim towards his own room. “Go get changed. I’ll meet you on the roof.”
************
Red Robin hopped up to a ledge, lightly crouched. The street below was quiet. Most streets had been quiet this week. Word was that Red Hood had been onto something big, so the most important people had gone to ground. What would they do if they knew that the infamous anti-hero had been sick the entire time?
Red Hood stepped up next to his partner, the edges of his leather jacket moving in the breeze. He posed an impressive figure, hands on his hips about a dozen stories above the ground. Authoritative. Maybe even stupid. Anyone could shoot at them from here.
No one did.
Red Robin watched his cape flutter over the edge of the building, absent. Then he looked up at the city. The immediate neighborhood was dark… sleepy… guarded. The buildings beyond, miles in the distance, were all alight; tall monuments of the city’s prosperity. Not better or worse. Just… bold.
There was something beautiful about it. All the lights. And in the center of them, Wayne Enterprises.
“It’s been a while,” Red Robin murmured.
Red Hood’s weight shifted. “Yeah. It has.”
They didn’t need to say anything else. They were both staring at the same distant building.
“Would you have missed me?” Red Robin murmured. “If you hadn’t been there?”
Red Hood laughed. It was a bitter mechanical sound, and it stirred unpleasant memories. “Every day.”
“Why?” Red Robin looked up, curious. “You didn’t know me, then. I didn’t even know myself.”
Red Hood shrugged. “I’m good at figuring people out; I knew you enough. I knew you were a good kid with a crappy family. I knew you needed someplace to call home.” He shifted his weight again. “I knew you were worth knowing. I just… hadn’t taken that next step.”
“Saving my life was a good next step.” Red Robin smiled softly, looking back out at the city.
“Yeah. I guess it was.”
Everything was quiet for a minute. The world spun on. Red Robin tapped his big brother’s boot, moving to stand. It was time to get going.
His cape snagged. He stumbled, his weight thrown off, and pitched backwards into open air.
Oh, he thought distantly, and his heart stopped. He stared up at a smoggy star-scattered sky, and he fell.
A gloved hand caught his wrist, jerking him to a stop with his feet bracing the tip of the ledge. He stared up in numb silence, meeting the Red Hood’s impassive helmet & desperate body-language. The hand grasping his wrist squeezed tight enough for the bones to creak, and it trembled.
Red Robin wrapped his fingers around his brother’s wrist in return, securing the grip for good. One breathless moment later, he was tugged up hard enough to fly & caught against cool leather. Strong arms pulled him in & held him close, cradling him. The helmet clattered to the ground a moment later.
Red Robin brought his arms up, wrapping them tight around his brother’s chest. Everything was quiet for a minute. The world spun on.
“I’m okay,” Red finally whispered.
“Let’s not do that this time,” Hood murmured into his hair, relief in his voice & scared strength in his arms.
Red Robin rested his cheek against hard body-armor, allowing himself to be trapped here. A wave of gratefulness suddenly closed his throat. He almost hadn’t been here. He’d almost missed the early mornings with Jason singing along to the radio, good foods cooking on the stove & sunlight streaming through open windows. The late nights with movie marathons, inside jokes & takeout; the quiet evenings curled up with Luna on a chair, sketching or listening to Jason read aloud, or both, sometimes. Those nights almost always ended in hair-pets & quiet recounted memories before sleep; little tidbits of their childhood that they’d shared with no one else, because who else would listen? The meaningless grocery-runs and the grateful people they saved every night and the hours upon hours upon hours of training in the Hood Cave, learning each other inside-out, taking each other down & keeping meticulous score, because the next smoothie or taco was always on the line, and God forbid they act as anything other than broke. The outrageous bets, the walks in the park to talk about last afternoon’s therapy-session or that new cute girl at the bar down the street, and who was keeping an eye on her which nights to make sure she got home safe? That kid down the street, he’d just lost a tooth. It had been a near-murder, but Red Robin had saved him, and he’d been so excited at the prospect of money for the tooth that he hadn’t realized he’d almost died. The woman downstairs, she ran past them, sometimes, when they were jogging down the street. She was always too fast to keep up with, but she never missed a chance to high-five them; silent encouragement for the shared sweat. The guy at the ice-cream shop a few blocks over always gave them free cones, because Red Hood always picked up the neighbors’ tabs there, so everyone took advantage. Inevitable distractions lead to melting ice-cream, and Tim always had to hurry to lick it up before more sticky notes dropped on his paperwork, even though most of the margins were crammed with little tic-tac-toes & hangman gone wrong, because Jason could spell, but Tim apparently couldn’t.
The passing hair-ruffles and gentle head-kisses and playful shoulder-shoves. The wrestling and fighting with flour and shopping for a cat; the shared nightmares and cuddles and promises in the dark that he hadn’t deserved it; he was loved now; he was enough. He was more than enough.
The safe hugs. The invulnerability… and heartache… of true family.
Tim Drake had almost missed all of that. He had almost tipped backwards a second too early, too far away, and his last thought would have been about the stars.
“Thank you,” he whispered thickly, fisting his big brother’s jacket. “Thank you for catching me.”
Jason’s hug tightened, and he dipped his head to murmur into his little brother’s ear. “I will always catch you.”
Catch you; help you heal.
Tim Drake closed his eyes, took a deep breath through living lungs, and smiled.