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Tim was screwed. So, so screwed.
Things were finally going well. He had been Robin for almost a year at this point. Six months in, he started staying in Wayne Manor due to his parents’ travels— they were headed to the Caribbean, the last time Tim checked. Tim wasn’t sure when Bruce realized that he had no one staying with him, but at some point, Bruce’s awkward but well-meaning statements of “We had a late patrol, Robin, you can sleep in the manor if you would like” turned into “You’re sleeping here in a guest room tonight. That’s an order, Robin” which then (after a stern talking to from Alfred that Tim politely pretended not to overhear) became “I would really like it if you stayed in the manor tonight, Tim. I… care about you, and I would feel safer if you weren’t home alone.”
Tim agreed to his final ask (and tried not to tear up while doing so, because Bruce cared about him? The Batman? His younger, fanboy self might have actually cried tears of joy,) and then Tim just… never left.
Tim had never felt so at home in any place before Wayne manor, not that he had much to compare it to. The empty hallways of the Drake’s manor felt more like a museum than a home, and since that was all he had ever known, Tim hadn’t realized just how much better it could be. Yes, the hallways of Wayne manor were technically empty quite often, (entirely understandable, with only three residents, and with it being a literal mansion) but unlike the Drake’s, these hallways felt lived in. Family photos lined the walls instead of things that better belonged in a historical exhibit. Meals were cooked fresh and dinners were eaten together, instead of frozen meals heated with instructions on the box and a table set for one.
And with Dick visiting from Bludhaven more and more often, the manor was hardly quiet for very long. Dick even talked about taking an extended stay in Gotham sometime! “Not moving back in,” Dick had insisted when Bruce gave him a soft and hopeful look, “just for a month or so while I’m between leases. And so I can see this guy more often,” Dick said while rufflingTim’s hair with a grin, and it took all of Tim’s self control not to lean into the touch and coo like a bird, because did you know dragons sounded quite a lot like birds when it came down to it, and—
Ah. Right. That.
Somehow, Bruce now knew his deepest secret. There was no other explanation. He knew that the name “Drake” was a little more literal than anyone might think, that Tim was literally a dragon.
Tim had been so diligent, too, never shifting into his other form in his time living at the manor, even when his back felt achingly empty from the lack of wings at times and his scales itched to reappear. He had even managed to hide it when he lost one of his baby fangs by brushing it off as a toothache, and had talked Bruce out of taking him to the dentist when he had expressed concern about it! Frankly, he was kinda proud of how well he played that off… but, it’s not like it mattered now.
As if Tim could ever hope to keep a secret from The Batman, especially not while living under his roof. God, he was so stupid! He should have never agreed to stay, it was foolish to think that he could keep Bruce in the dark forever. Frankly, it was selfish of him, allowing Bruce to get attached to another Robin only to betray his trust by being a meta. Bruce doesn't allow metahumans in Gotham, he doesn't trust them. Not that magic creatures were actually metas by any means, but Tim didn’t think Bruce would care much to make that distinction.
Yes, everything had been going so well, so smoothly. Tim wanted to kick himself. He was sat in the passenger’s seat of the Batmobile, fiddling the hem of his cape, a nervous habit of his.
“I have something to talk to you about when we get back to the Cave, Robin,” Batman had said earlier, just as they settled into the ‘mobile at the end of patrol. His tone was steady and uncomfortably neutral. “I know you’ve been keeping something from me. I’ve known for quite a while now.”
…And that was all he had said.
Tim glanced at B out of the corner of his eye. He was resolutely staring at the road in front of him… the road which was quickly taking a turn into the tunnel that led to the Cave. Tim’s heart pounded in his ears. They were here? Already?
At least he’d see the giant penny one last time before he got thrown into the depths of the Batcave, never to be seen again. That would be cool.
Tim’s stomach did flips, his hands clenching and unclenching on the fabric of his cape, and he tried not to let his fingernails shift into claws. That would not help his case in the slightest.
“Do you want to change out of your uniform before we talk?” asked Batman— no, Bruce now. He had the cowl down— startling Tim out of his thoughts.
It would probably be best if Tim did, so Bruce could easily take the costume after he fired him and kicked him out. Maybe he’d even be merciful and let Tim go free, so long as he never stepped foot in Gotham again. But, selfishly, Tim wanted to get this over and done with. Rip the bandaid off, so to speak.
Tim shook his head, unable to form words.
“Alright,” Bruce said, turning to him. Bruce studied Tim’s face and frowned. “Tim. You’re not in trouble. I’m not mad.”
Though the damage was already done, Tim schooled his face so that his fear wasn’t so evident. Wait— did he say he’s not mad? There was no way that was true. He was probably lying.
“Tim,” Bruce started. The conversation felt as if it was moving in slow motion, and Tim’s hands shook. He forced himself to meet Bruce's gaze— in a fucked up way, like pressing down on a bruise, he wanted to see what Bruce looked like when he finally said it, finally said he was a—
“I know you’re transgender.”
— dragon. Wait, what?
I mean, yeah, he was.
But— what?
“I’ve known for a long time now. I felt it wasn’t fair to you, to have to keep hiding a part of yourself from me. And it certainly wasn’t fair that I had breached your privacy by finding out, not allowing you to come out and tell me on your own terms. I completely support you. I just—“
“Hold on. Hold on a second,” Tim sputtered out, cutting Bruce off. Were Tim less in shock, he might have time to appreciate how thought out, emotionally competent, and obviously pre-planned Bruce’s little spiel was. But, right now, he had other more pressing concerns. “You mean— you don’t know I’m—“ Tim stammered, before catching himself. “I mean, um, you didn’t know that I was trans?”
Bruce looked unphased by his almost-slip, thank God.
“Not when we had first met, no. But there was something nagging at me, soon after our first meeting. I could have sworn that the Drakes had a daughter, once upon a time. I looked into medical and financial records, and… figured it out.”
Tim gaped at him, reeling from relief that Bruce didn’t actually know that he was a dragon, and the realization that he just, forgot to tell Bruce he was trans. I mean— he clearly knows now, so it’s fine, but that was… kind of hysterical, actually.
“There’s no need to look scared, Tim. No one else knows,” Bruce said in an attempt to be reassuring. It definitely would be reassuring, if that was what Tim had actually been scared about. “Your parents were very thorough in removing any evidence of your identity, rest assured. Were it anyone but me looking, they wouldn’t have found anything. And since it was so many years ago and the Drakes were a smaller name then, most don’t recall the Drakes ever having a daughter. Not that they ever did have one,” Bruce corrected himself, “You’ve always obviously been… yourself. I didn’t mean, uh—“
“I know what you meant, Bruce, I just… I just thought that you…”
Tim wasn’t going to cry out of overwhelming relief. He wasn’t.
Okay, he totally was.
“It’s okay, Tim.” Bruce clasped a trying-to-be-comforting hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Let it out. I just need you to know, I support you and your identity completely. I—“
Acting on instinct, Tim leaned over to crush Bruce in a hug, the Batmobile console digging uncomfortably into his side. But, he didn’t care.
Tim’s biggest secret was still hidden, and Bruce Wayne was a trans ally? Best news of his life.
AND, and— Bruce was hugging him back!
A blissful minute or two passed, Bruce’s hand rubbing circles on his back. Tim’s crying stopped, slowly, and he pulled back.
“Oh, also. I-I want you to be aware that I,” Bruce looked away and coughed awkwardly. “Have stocked the Cave, the manor, and my utility belt with whatever you might need for your… menstruation.”
Tim choked on his own spit. The Batman was giving him menstrual products?
And Bruce kept talking, as Tim cringed.
“If you need to take off of patrol for any… ‘boy problems,’ I completely—“
“Bruce! Bruce, shut up, you’re ruining this. Oh my god. Thank you, but oh my God,” Tim laughed at the absurdity of Batman saying that, covering his red face with his hands. “Thank you. For your support. Really. I… I really do appreciate it more than you know.”
Mission: Keep Bruce From Finding Out He’s Not Human was still a go. Now how’s that for trans rights, thought Tim to himself. And, hey, free pads!
…
What the fuck was his life?
—
The next couple weeks passed uneventfully, but the scare of his cover being blown had made Tim think.
What if something happened to him, and no one knew he was a dragon? Like— what if Scarecrow creates a strain of fear toxin that magic creatures were especially sensitive to, or what if he gets hit with a truth serum and they get mad at him for not telling them sooner, or something?
After mulling it over… Tim needed to tell someone else he was a dragon. Just in case.
As terrified as it made him to reveal his biggest secret, the secret that no one except his parents knew, Tim knew he needed someone in his corner. Which was a very mature conclusion for him to come to, honestly! Admitting when you need outside support is difficult— Bruce was all too aware of that. Someone should pat Tim on the back for this.
Now, in terms of who should be his confidant…
Tim still didn’t know how Bruce felt about magical creatures, but he certainly knew how he felt about metas in Gotham. Even Superman, who (from Tim’s observations) was basically Bruce’s best friend, wasn’t always trusted in Gotham.
Alfred, as kind and generous as the old butler was, would probably take it well. But… he wants to tell a peer, not a guardian. Someone who would get it. Not to mention that Tim technically knew nothing of his opinions on metas or magic. No, Alfred wasn’t an option. Too many risks.
The obvious person to tell, of course, was Dick Grayson. He was friends with Zatanna and his entire team was metas— Wally, Kori, Gar… If he supported magic users and metas, he would surely support a magic creature, right? That was basically the midpoint between a meta and a magic user. Kind of. And Beast Boy could turn into a dinosaur, which was almost like a dragon, if you knew nothing about dragons, which Dick presumably did not. That was fine, Tim could explain the difference to him.
Plus— and this was the most important reason, really— Dick was no stranger to lying to Batman. Even if he hated dragons, for some random reason, surely, surely Dick would still keep Tim’s secret from Bruce.
That’s how Tim found himself asking to come visit Dick’s apartment in Bludhaven for a weekend. Dick lit up when asked, his smile so bright it was blinding. It made butterflies twist in Tim’s stomach, knowing Dick, one of his heroes, really truly liked him. Knowing that he might, no, would see him differently after he told him his secret.
Friday, Tim and Dick stayed in and watched one of Dick’s favorite movies— How to Train your Dragon, ironically enough.
Saturday, they went out to Bludhaven’s art museum. It wasn’t as huge as Gotham’s, and by no means as high quality, but it featured some local photographers, Dick had said, and Tim’s heart did something funny at Dick remembering Tim’s interests.
It was on Saturday night when they sat next to each other, eating Chinese takeout on Dick’s tiny kitchen island, that Tim worked up the nerve to finally say it.
“Tim, are you good, bud? You’ve barely touched your food… and you didn’t eat much for breakfast either, come to think of it,” Dick said in concern. It was true— Tim’s stomach was too busy doing flips to hold down any food.
“I… no, I’m not good,” Tim took a steadying breath and continued, “there’s something I have to tell you, Dick.” Tim stared resolutely at his hands in his lap. He couldn’t make himself look up this time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick turn towards him.
“Whatever it is, Tim, I’m sure it won’t make me care about you any less.”
“Are you sure about that?” Tim mumbled miserably. God, he felt like he might throw up into his lo mein.
“Yes, Tim, I’ve never been more sure. You can tell me anything.”
Tim worked up the nerve to sneak a glance at Dick, and he looked so earnest. Dick really did care about him. And he might be ruining that tonight. Fuck.
He was already in too deep. No turning back now. Just spit it out, Drake.
“I’m… I’m… not what you think I am,” Tim started.
Just say it! Come on! Out with it!
“I’m, um— I’m actually a— a—“ Tim sputtered like a leaky balloon. Fuck! His voice was stuttering too much to get the words out— and since when had he started crying?
“Tim, Timmy, it’s okay! You’re okay,” Dick said, standing up from the stool and pulling Tim’s head to Dick’s chest in a hug. “You’re alright, everything’s fine.”
Tim buried his face further into Dick’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. God, why couldn’t he just say it?
“Breathe with me. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. You’re alright, Tim,” Dick said, pulling back from the hug and putting his hand on the side of Tim’s face. He wiped a tear away with his thumb, ever so gently, then pulled his hands back.
“Timmy, you’re okay. We’re okay. You don’t have to say it out loud if you don’t want to,” Dick took a breath before continuing. “To be honest… I’ve actually known the entire time,” Dick said, voice sheepish.
Tim, who had closed off again and stopped making eye contact, suddenly whipped his head towards Dick. He fucking what?
“I know that you’re trans, I mean.”
But— that wasn’t what he— huh? Wait, he did?
Tim reeled, frozen from the shift in expectations and from the sudden release of his fear. He almost didn’t register Dick’s explanation, his ears ringing and his heart hammering.
“When you came to Bludhaven to convince me to be Robin again, you told me that we had met once before, at the circus, and that you had taken a photo with me and my family. I remember that night very well, as you can probably imagine. It’s just that… I’d only taken a photo with one kid your age that night, and they had long hair and a pink dress on. And, well, I found a copy of the photo when I moved out here and went through my old circus stuff, saw that the kid looked like you, and connected the dots from there.”
The more Dick spoke, the more relief flooded through Tim’s bones. He well and truly didn’t mind people knowing he was trans, especially not openly bisexual trans ally Dick Grayson. And he definitely didn’t mind his secret spilling to be pushed off to the side for… well, for a different secret to be spilled.
The relief must have been evident on Tim’s face and body language, because Dick smiled softly as he continued.
“I care about you a lot, Tim,” Dick said, clapping Tim on the shoulder. Tim wondered, a bit hysterically, if Dick learned the “reassuring shoulder clap” move from Bruce. “You’re like… honestly, you’re like a brother to me. I’m so glad you trusted me enough to know your secret.“
Tim hid his cringe by pulling Dick in for another hug. Yes, Tim did trust Dick to know his secret. Just not the secret he thought Tim meant, and clearly not enough to spit it out.
First Bruce, and now Dick. Two points for trans rights, zero points for being secretly a dragon. Go team, Tim thought hysterically.
There was always next time… if he ever worked up the nerve again.
Still, Tim fell asleep that night on Dick’s pullout couch with his heart warmed. Dick (Dick Grayson!! The first Robin! His hero!) thought of him as a brother!!
—
Tim’s next trip to Bludhaven got canceled. Some up-and-coming crime lord in the cityhad Bruce in a tizzy. The Red Hood, he called himself. Bruce probably didn’t like that he shared a name with the Joker, especially after Jason… anyways. He sent Tim off to Titan’s Tower, out of Gotham and (hopefully) into safety. Tim trusted Bruce to know what was best for him.
Tim was looking at cold cases on his laptop in the common room, when the power flickered out suddenly and didn’t come back on.
Which was remarkably suspicious, considering the tower had a backup generator for its backup generator. And because it wasn’t storming out to begin with.
Tim grabbed his collapsible bo staff from between the couch cushions and stood up, on high alert.
He surveyed his surroundings, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up (… and his fangs itching to come out, but that always happened when he was on high alert. He had trained that instinct out of himself after he suddenly and conspicuously gained a lisp after his first patrol as Robin).
His ears picked up the almost imperceptible footsteps of someone heavy, but highly skilled. Sneaking around just like Bruce does, Tim thought.
He turned his head towards the noise in an instant, deploying his bo, and was met with the cold white lenses of the Red Hood.
“Hello, Robin,” Red Hood drawled in a modulated, mechanical voice. “You heard me coming, huh? Good ear.”
Tim took stock. Hood was heavily armed with multiple guns and a knife— and those were just the weapons he had visible . Not to mention, he was about the size and weight of Bruce, and also an expert at stealth like him. He was clearly very technologically capable, considering the ease with which he was able to get into the Tower and shut down the power undetected. Tim could hold his own, but he certainly wasn’t the best fighter— he was probably outmatched, here.
Due to Bruce’s paranoia, he was checking in with the Bat Cave every three hours via video call. Bad news, he had just finished checking in with Dick about five minutes ago. Good news, it meant he still had the Cave’s communication line open on his laptop. Unfortunately, Red Hood was likely a quick draw— meaning he could easily shoot him or his laptop in the time it would take to turn back around and hit the “call” button.
“…thing is, Batman really shouldn’t let his Robins this far out of the nest.”
Oh, Hood’s totally been monologuing the whole time Tim was mulling over his options. Shit. The first rule of dealing with bad guys was to always listen to their monologues in case they let something slip. Oh well.
Red Hood stalked Tim like a big cat would stalk its prey. Whereas before he snuck up silently, now he let his heavy combat boots do the talking in some kind of attempt at intimidation. It was kind of working on Tim, to be honest.
“See, I know who you really are, Robin.”
Tim’s stomach plummeted and against his better instincts, he stiffened in fear.
Red Hood was a crime lord. Tim was aware he dealt with drug trafficking primarily, but who’s to say he wouldn’t deal in trafficking other things? Other items? Magical items? Magical creatures?
Fuck. Fuck.
“Or should I say… Tim Drake.”
Tim stared at the Red Hood, waiting for another shoe to drop. Silence held between them for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“Is that all?” Tim said without thinking. “I mean— you know my identity? That’s it?” Shut up, Drake.
“What? What do you mean is that all?!” Red Hood spat. “I know your secret identity! That’s the Bat’s second most important rule— don’t let your identity slip! ’Is that all,’ he says,” Hood said, incredulous and vicious at the same time.
“I thought— I thought you knew I was transgender!” Tim blurted out.
The Red Hood paused completely in his movements, his expressionless helmet betraying nothing.
“You what?”
“I thought you had figured out that I’m trans,” Tim said. Lean into the bit, Drake. He had learned that in an improv comedy class he took once after school, not from his Robin training, but surely it could apply here. “And I figured you’re kind of a bad guy, y’know, so you might not like that fact very much.”
“I’m not transphobic,” Red Hood said, defensiveness evident even in his modulated voice.
“No? Then why were you about to beat up a trans kid? Huh?”
“I wasn’t!”
“What are all the weapons for, then?
Lean into the bit, don’t even think about your scales anxiously appearing and reappearing under your costume, lean into the bit… Tim didn’t know what exactly he was stalling for, or what he himself was planning to do here, but he needed to buy himself time to figure that out.
“I’m— I was— I’m not,” The Red Hood sputtered like a faulty engine. Good, whatever Tim was doing was working.
“Like, imagine how bad for your business that would be,” Tim continued, “You know, in a recent study, Gotham actually ranked as one of the least transphobic cities on the East Coast. So if word got out that you were transphobic, you’d probably lose a lot of support, and—“
The Red Hood ripped off his helmet and loomed down at Tim.
“I’m here because you fucking replaced me, Tim Drake!” Hood yelled and— but that wasn’t possible because that was—
“Jason Todd?“
The air stilled between them, like time paused.
Their silent, shocked standoff was interrupted by the sound of the Zeta tube going off. Both he and Jason whipped around to look.
“Robin!” Nightwing’s cheery voice yelled from around the corner, coming closer.
“I figured since our sleepover at Blud got canceled, I would surprise you and come… to…” he trailed off when he saw who was in front of him.
“Little wing?!”
—
It takes a long few months of tears and therapy, but Jason rejoins the Wayne family, slowly but surely. Mind you, he refuses to live in the manor, but Jason visits more often than he doesn’t, and while Tim imagines it’s nothing like it was before Jason… left, he’s never seen Bruce so content.
Tim is pleasantly surprised that there’s still room for him in the manor, in Bruce and Dick’s life. He should still probably tell someone about his whole dragon thing, but Jason just got back. Plus, Bruce has been kind enough to look after him since his parents… you know, died, and it might be selfish, but Tim really just doesn’t want to risk losing his place here, or losing Robin. And, he’s probably going to start testosterone soon! So he really, really doesn’t want to miss out on that.
Tim simply doesn’t rock the boat, and he holds onto what he has while he has it. He even forms a relationship with Jason, something his younger self could have only dreamed of. It turns out Jason is actually really cool, even cooler than he was as Robin, when he’s not operating under untreated Lazarus Pit rage and trauma. They even patrol with each other some nights!
It was on one of those nights that Robin and Red Hood found themselves facing a magic user, an unwelcome and almost unprecedented sight in no-Metas-no-magic Gotham.
The guy seemed to be hopped up on a power surge of some kind. Tim, though he was technically magic himself, had no expertise in it by any means, so he knew nothing beyond that.
What he did know was that he, as a dragon, had a resistance to magic, something Jason certainly didn’t, even with the Pit in his blood. He had to get the attention on himself by any means necessary— he could take a hit where Jason couldn’t. Dick and Bruce just got him back— he had to keep him safe.
Tim swung his bo, and would have landed the hit were it not for the glowing magic membrane suddenly surrounding the wizard. The guy, whose focus until now had been on reflecting Jason’s rubber bullets back at him, turned to Tim.
In an instant, his eyes flashed a bright white, and when they returned to normal, looked downright crazed.
“I know what you are,” the mage said, absolute venom and hatred dripping from his voice.
“Robin!” Hood yelled, but the wizard just cast a holding spell on him without even turning back to look. Red Hood froze mid-stride, twitching but otherwise unable to move. Tim went to swing at the mage again, but found himself similarly frozen in place.
“I know what you really are, Robin,” the man repeated, malice in every word, “and I’ll make sure everyone else knows it too. You won’t keep hiding it anymore.”
Tim was completely and utterly helpless as the wizard cast a spell upon him. He could only hope he didn’t mean what Tim thought he meant… but his luck had probably run out by now. This was it, the end of the line.
“Laever sih eurt mrof,” the wizard chanted, his voice echoing with unrestrained power.
Tim felt nausea wash over him as the spell overwhelmed his senses. Fun fact about dragons, they were magic resistant, not magic proof. He could hold off the spell’s effects, whatever those may be, but for how long?
Tim crumpled to the ground. He looked up just in time to see Hood slam the butt of a knife into the guy’s skull, the freezing spell evidently released on Jason when he’d cast whatever he cast on Tim.
Tim tried not to throw up. He could feel his skin crawling, his shoulders twitching, his claws wanting to come out and tear his gloves apart. Fuck.
Jason’s voice vaguely registered in Tim’s ears. He seemed to be on the comms with Batman and Nightwing.
“B, Wing, Cave, now. Magic user got me and Robin. I knocked him out, PD is on their way. Robin got hit with something, he’s shaking like a leaf. No, I don’t know what the spell was, if I did I would have told you outright!” Hood hesitated before he said, “The guy said somethin’ like, ‘I know what you really are, and I’ll make sure everyone else does too.’”
Red Hood paused while Batman and Nightwing responded on the other end. Tim felt like his bones were vibrating out of his skin. Hood turned to Tim, clearly staring, and Tim desperately wished he didn’t have the helmet on so he could see what he was feeling.
“I was thinking something along those lines too,” said Hood over the comms.
What did that mean? What the fuck did that mean?
He clung to Hood’s waist as they crawled onto his bike.
“Hold on, kid, we’ll be safe soon. We’ll fix this,” Jason said, and Tim so desperately wanted to believe him.
The jig was up, though. Being Robin was fun while it lasted, but Tim was fucked.
—
Tim couldn’t tell if the ride to the Batcave felt like it took hours, or if it felt like he blinked and teleported there. He was out of it, that much was certain. He all but fell off of Hood’s bike and ran into the locker room, into a changing stall, slamming the door behind him. (He was vaguely reminded of the time he had some bad French toast before patrol and did just one too many flips, scurrying out of the Batmobile as soon as they got back in order to empty his stomach, and he almost laughed.)
A chorus of “Tim!” and “Robin!” followed him, and he heard his almost-family crowd outside of the stall.
“Robin, report,” Batman growled through the door. He vaguely heard Dick hiss something under his breath, then Bruce said, much softer this time, “Tim, talk to us. Are you in pain? What kind of spell were you hit with?”
“Yes. I can’t— I can’t,” Tim cried. Now that he had some semblance of privacy, he couldn’t hold back the spell any longer. His fangs jutted out, his claws tore his gloves apart, and he could see his scales appear down his arms, as red as his Robin costume. His transformations normally wouldn’t hurt this much, but he figured a combination of going without one for so long and it being forced from a spell… well. It hurt, that’s for sure.
“He, he knows what I am,” Tim finally said, breathing heavily. He could feel his eyes shift from blue to gold, round pupils becoming slits, the artificial light of the Cave suddenly too bright for them. “He knows what I am, and he must have had some kind of— some kind of vendetta against my kind, and now…”
“Tim,” said Dick. “Whatever that guy said to you—“
“No, he was right, I’m not what you think I am,” Tim cut him off in a rush, breathing heavily, “he wanted to prove that, prove that I’ve been lying to you all.”
Tim was ripping his costume off, his skin overheating. He could feel his other limbs, his tail and his wings, completely aching to be let out. Tears dripped out of Tim’s eyes unwillingly. Why was it so hot in here?
“Of course you’re a real guy, Tim,” Dick said, “we all know that, and we all support you.”
Tim paused in his haste to get his uniform off. “What? What did you say?”
“You’re a boy, Tim, we all know it, and you were never lying to us.” Dick said through the door resolutely.
In hindsight, the hysterical laughter Tim let out in response may have sounded like sobs. “No— no, you’re wrong,” Tim said, voice breaking at the absurdity of the situation.
“Tim, kid, no,” Jason protested. “Just ‘cause you’re trans doesn’t mean—“
“No, you—“ Tim said, kicking his boots off as his talons extended. Eugh. “I mean, yes, I’m a guy, thank you for that. I appreciate the support, like I’m really grateful, totally, it’s just that, that’s literally not what’s happening here—” Tim said in a rush, before he cut himself off with a cry of pain.
He couldn’t hold it off any longer, and a flash of fire and heat overtook him, making the small changing room light up. He heard his name called in concern from outside.
Disoriented from being much, much closer to the ground than before, he barely heard the others say they were coming inside before the door slammed open.
He blinked up at the three shocked faces staring at him. And he means up— he was about the size of a very large cat, in this form, and this was the biggest he’d ever get.
“Timmy?!”
“Is that a fuckin’ dragon? He’s a fuckin’ dragon?”
“Oh.”
Bruce, ever the professional, recovers first. He knelt down and gave Tim a once-over, though if he was inspecting for injuries or just inspecting, Tim wasn’t sure. He still had the whole “I never told Batman I’m actually a magic creature” thing to worry about, after all.
“Can you understand us, Tim?” he asked.
Tim nodded.
“Are you hurt or in pain?”
Tim shook his head.
“Have you always been…” Bruce hesitated with his next question.
“A whole-ass dragon?“ Jason finished for him. “Well,” he corrected, “a half-ass dragon?”
“Jason!” Dick gasped, elbowing his brother.
“What? C’mon, he’s puny!”
Tim would have found the exchange funny, really, but he was too busy shrinking back into the corner of the changing room under Batman’s inquisitive gaze.
Dick, thank God, picked up on Tim’s body language, even when it wasn’t a human body.
“He’s scared, Bruce. Fix it,” he hissed.
“We’ll have to call a magic user,” Bruce started. “Preferably Zatanna, if she’s available—“
“That is absolutely not what he meant by ‘fix it,’ but sure,” said Jason with a glare at Bruce.
Bruce visibly appeared to pause and recalculate his approach. “Ah.”
He turned back to Tim, his gaze softening.
“I… don’t care that you’re a dragon,” Bruce started slowly. “I mean. I do care. About you. I just…” Bruce cut himself off with a sigh.
“It doesn’t take a detective to understand why you might be afraid of what I think in this situation. I have issues when it comes to trusting others out of my control with my city. That’s… how I used to see it, anyways. That doesn’t apply to you, Tim. I know you. You’re my Robin, my family.”
Bruce reached a hand out to Tim, hesitating. Tim meets him halfway and leans into his touch.
Tim would bet his eyes are doing the thing again, something they haven’t done in years, where his pupils dilate like a pleased cat’s, but he can’t help it. Relief flooded his system and overtook any other instinct.
There was a moment of silence and calm, before—
“Okay, I’m going to say it— you are so cute, baby bird,” Dick cooed, before pushing his father and brother out of the way and scooping Tim up like a baby.
Tim squawked, but didn’t wriggle away. Dick carried him out of the cramped locker room and into the main area of the Batcave.
Bruce, clearly worn out from his once-per-day show of emotion, beelined to the computer, presumably contacting every spell caster he knew.
“Dickhead, what are you doing with him,” Jason growled.
“Double checking Tim for injuries. Duh. No other reason,” Dick replied, now lifting Tim under the armpits much like a pliant cat. Tim was too stoked to not be dead or disowned by Batman to care… plus, it did kind of feel nice to be held.
“You’re going to drop him! Give him here, asshole,” Jason said, (gently) snatching Tim away from Dick. He holds him like a normal person would, if there was a normal way to hold a dragon.
Dick, instead of protesting like Tim expected him to, simply cooed again and pulled out his phone to take a photo.
Tim glanced at Bruce again, who was shaking his head fondly. He saw the relief evident in Bruce’s face— relief that Tim was okay and uninjured, he realized.
Tim had no more secrets, nothing else to hide from everyone he cared about. Something in him relaxed at that, and he felt safe.
He felt at home, truly at home, for once. And he knew that, from now on, he could truly be himself here.
God, that was cheesy, thought Tim to himself as he fell asleep in his brother’s arms.