Chapter Text
The walk to Wayne Manor is quiet, Tim’s labored breaths interspersed with the snap of sticks as they hiked through the wooded path. It was a shortcut Tim had found in elementary school, rather than having to go along the main road, and it came in handy when he took up the mantle of Robin.
Tim can tell Jason would rather carry Tim, so they could get there faster, but there’s not a single way that Tim can think of that would let Jason carry him without pressing against his back or legs or any part of him that hurt like hell, so it wasn’t an option.
“You alright, Tim?”
Tim blinks and looks up at Jason, trying to process the words. “What?”
“Do you need to stop?”
Tim looks back at the manor in the distance and shakes his head. “No.”
If he stops now he’s never going to start again. And he doesn’t want to give up in the middle of the forest. Not like this.
His heart-rate sky-rockets when they finally reach the front door of Wayne Manor, picturing the thousand different ways Bruce is going to show his anger when he opens his door to see Tim standing there. Jason rings the doorbell and Tim’s hands start shaking, so he tucks them under his arms and bites his lower lip hard to distract himself.
“Breathe, kid,” Jason says, placing a hand on the nape of Tim’s neck. “Breathe.”
Bruce opens the door distracted, his phone in his hand and his shirt untucked from his slacks. He passes through six different visible emotions at the sight of them, a split-second flicker of confusion, happiness and concern. He breaks into a bewildered smile, his hand still on the doorknob. “Jason?”
Jason scowls, his hand still on the back of Tim’s neck. “Good to know your sight hasn’t failed. You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, because I’m this close to kicking your ass.”
Bruce’s smile wavers, the concern building in his eyes. “What happened? Are you alright, Tim? Both of you come in. Are you two hurt?”
Tim shakes his head out of force of habit and Jason fixes Bruce with an icy glare. “ I’m not. Don’t you dare shake your fucking head, Tim.”
Tim stops, a red flush creeping up his cheeks. Bruce is looking at him now, really looking at him, and Tim wants to hide behind Jason. If it wasn’t for Jason’s hand on his neck he would have bolted, made a mad dash back to his room with the wild hope that he would reach it before Jason could tackle him.
“Tim?” Bruce says, his smile gone. “What happened?”
“I’m not letting him stand out here any longer,” Jason snaps. “Can we get him something to lay on, please? He’s not going to die, but I need him to get patched up.”
Bruce pulls away from the door and spins on his heel, his phone shoved deep into his pocket, a steady gait to his stride. “Dick!” he shouts. “I need you in the clinic, right now!”
“Nooo,” Tim says, turning to try and leave as Jason hauls him through the door by the elbow. He didn’t want Dick to get involved. He was already a nuisance, this would make Dick hate him. “Jason, I changed my mind, I want to leave.”
“Tough luck,” Jason says back, dragging him through the foyer and down the hall. “You’re done being in control of your own shit.”
Dick comes barreling down the stairs right as they reach the clinic door, eyes wide and frantic. “Jason?” he asks, skidding to a stop in front of them. “What—Who’s hurt?”
“Tim,” Jason says, pushing Tim through the door and into the room where Bruce is already at the wall, the paneling slid aside to reveal an extensive list of medical instruments and tools.
“Baby bird?” Dick echos. “Fuck. How?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Bruce says, taking Tim gently by the arm from Jason and leading him over to the medical bed they had in the corner. “You want him to lay down, Jason? Did he hit his head?”
“Don’t lay him on his back,” Jason says, leaning against the far wall, one foot propped up behind him. “And I’m not sure about his head, you’ll have to ask him.”
Tim ducks his head as Bruce pauses to look at him, Bruce’s hand feeling like a fiery band around his arm. He’s being gentle, markedly more gentle than Jason, who hadn’t even been grabbing him that hard, but it can’t help but feel like a restraint.
“Can we stop beating around the fucking bush?” Dick exclaims, vibrating in the doorway. “Jason, what the hell happened? Where’s he hurt?”
Jason shrugs. “Lift his shirt, B. They go down to his knees.”
Tim refuses to look up, refuses to acknowledge that this is happening, that he’s screwed up bad enough to land himself in this position. If Bruce lifts up his shirt it’s going to ruin everything. The temporary ban from being Robin is going to turn into a permanent one, and his parents will pay their way out of any sort of damage, which means it’s just going to be so much worse when his dad gets his hands on him.
Bruce doesn’t care about any of those things because he lifts the back of Tim’s shirt anyway, baring his back to the room and to Dick as well.
“What the fuck?” Dick cries.
Tim flinches, and Bruce mutters something low and dark that Tim can’t make out. He carefully works Tim’s shirt back over his head, his hands just as coarse as Jason’s but equally as gentle. He gently turns Tim to get a look at the marks that wrap around to the side of Tim’s ribs, a furrowed look on his face that only occurred when he was really worried.
“Tim,” Bruce says. “Who did this?”
Tim screws his eyes shut. “I stole something, Bruce. It was my fault. I’m sorry.”
“A cop belted you?” Dick asks, and he’s gotten closer, Tim can hear it from his voice.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jason says. “Pull your head out of your ass. It was his dad.”
Tim can feel Bruce’s hands stutter as they brush over his ribs, a marked difference from his usual steady sureness. His hands fly up to Tim’s shoulders, turning him back around before crushing him to his chest, one arm up high on Tim’s shoulders to avoid the marks, the other cradling the side of Tim’s face. “Tim, kiddo. Oh, God.”
“He what ?” Dick breathes, crossing the room to meet Bruce and Tim where they stood, one hand gently carding into Tim’s hair. “Jason, what do you mean?”
Jason shrugs. “About a week ago I got into a scuffle with some rough and tumble folks down in the Alley. The bastards put some kind of poisonous shit on their blades, practically paralyzed me. I made it to Tim’s place, cause I figured he wouldn’t be there, what with living here and all.”
He pauses to glare at Bruce. “And right, what the fuck is up with that? Why the hell doesn’t Tim live here?”
Bruce opens his mouth and Jason waves him off. “Whatever, fuck you. We’ll get to that later. The point is that I was in his room because I have piss-poor luck, and he made sure I didn’t die. Turns out his dad’s back from vacation, which is also apparently a rarity, and smacks Tim around like it’s nothing. And then Tim tries to get me shoes, because mine got lost, and he borrowed some of his dad’s. Turns out daddy dearest didn’t like having his shoes gone, cause next thing I know he’s hauling Tim up to his room and giving him the fucking thrashing of a lifetime.”
Dick’s face is one of pale horror as Jason pushes himself upright and points an accusing finger at Bruce. “And I want to know why the fuck he’s even at that house in the first place, you bastard. And why he’s not allowed in here when he’s not coming or going from patrol. You just let him sit alone in that damn house and get beat when his dad finally remembers he exists, and I want to know what excuse you have that’s going to stop me from setting up a no contact order between you and him.”
Bruce’s face is pale by the time Jason finishes his rant. “Jason, I swear to you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about him not being able to come over when his piece of shit father beats the hell out of him, Bruce .”
“No,” Bruce says, shaking his head. “Fuck, Jason. That’s not—I would never ban him from the manor. His parents alternate their business trips, I wanted to give him a chance to see both his parents while they were home. I didn’t think—”
“Yeah, well his mom’s not even there, is she? Neither of them are ever fucking home, Bruce!”
Bruce’s gaze drops to Tim. “Tim, your mom isn’t home? She’s not back from business this week?”
Tim has been dreading the moment the questions start to get aimed in his direction. When he has to explain the circumstances and break the illusion Jason had created. Jason didn’t know all the details, he hadn’t been there to see what Tim had done, how Tim had acted. He made it sound like Tim was being abused, or some heinous thing like that. Tim was dreading the moment Bruce realized it had just been discipline. And that this whole fuss had been made for nothing.
“No,” he whispers through cracked lips, wondering when they got so dry.
“Did she just leave?”
Tim shakes his head and tries to hold back the tears. He’s not going to cry this early. He’s not going to play the victim. “No.”
“Is she coming back soon?”
Tim shrugs. He doesn’t know what’s considered soon. “September.”
“That’s not soon,” Dick says in a strangled voice. “Holy shit, Timmy. How often are your parents home? Either one of them?”
“They’re home for at least two months,” Tim says. “Each. It doesn’t seem like a lot when you look at the days by themselves, but when you add it up it’s a lot.”
“See,” Jason says bitterly, leaning back against the wall. “What did I say. So why the fuck doesn’t he have a room here?”
“He does,” Bruce says, his voice faint. “He does. Tim, you stay here after patrol all the time.”
Jason’s explaining it all wrong . But Bruce is holding him, touching him like he wants Tim in his arms, and he can’t think straight. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know I have a room to sleep in, Jason was asking about my bedroom. I don’t live here, so I don’t have a bedroom, I have a guest room. I know I have a room.”
“Exactly,” Jason continues. “He’s Robin and he has a damn guest room. Plus all the bullshit with him only being allowed over here when he’s Robin? I told him we were coming over here, and he said he didn’t have access. The fuck does that mean, huh?”
Bruce breaks the hug and pulls back, holding Tim by the arms while he pins him with the saddest look Tim had ever seen. Tim wants to lean forward and fall back into the hug he had just been in, it had been such a good hug, but Bruce isn’t happy with him so he knows he can’t do that.
“Tim, did you think you weren’t allowed here if you weren’t patrolling?”
Tim breathes in a shuddering inhale and looks over at Jason with panic. He doesn’t understand any of this, Bruce isn’t following any of the rules that Tim had been following. Tim wasn’t a Wayne, he wasn’t Bruce’s son, he wasn’t supposed to be here. But Jason isn’t helping him, he’s pissed off too, and Tim is going to have to fix this himself. So he looks back at Bruce.
“No, Sir. I know I’m supposed to tell you about emergencies. I would have come if there was an emergency.”
“Not emergencies” Dick said, his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Not emergencies, baby bird. We want you here when nothing’s happening, just to hang out. You’re always allowed over here. There’s no such thing as access, that’s absolute bullshit. I want you over here just to steal our snacks and complain about how bored you are.”
Tim’s eyes flicked down to Bruce, waiting for the man to correct Dick. To tell him that it wasn’t true, that he didn’t want Tim underfoot and in the way. But he nods like Dick’s correct. “We always want you over here, Tim.”
“I’m not your kid,” Tim says, voice wavering and waiting for Bruce to remember he was just a stand-in. “I’m not supposed to be underfoot. I’m not—You have Jason back. You don’t have to put up with me, I know that, okay? This was just a big misunderstanding. Jason was stuck in my room, he didn’t see what happened. My dad’s shoes are expensive, I shouldn’t have stolen them. I gave him a reason, he didn’t have any other choice.”
Bruce doesn’t say anything right after that, not like Tim expects him to. Instead he lowers himself to one knee, down to Tim’s height, and gently brushes Tim’s hair away from his eyes, tucking it behind his ears with a sad smile. And then he cradles Tim’s face between his hands like Jason had done and presses a kiss to Tim’s forehead with enough love to take Tim’s breath away.
“None of that is true, Tim,” he says, hands still on Tim’s face. “You are my kid. And that wasn’t in a legal manner because you still had your parents, but I dare say that’s about to change. Jason being back means I have three sons. You included. What your dad did was not his only choice. It should have never been a choice, and you’re not living with him any longer. I want you here.”
Tim bursts into tears. He hadn’t planned on crying, but Bruce had just said he wanted Tim. Not Robin but Tim Drake. Nobody wanted Tim Drake, that was something that had been proven over and over again, and here was Bruce saying the opposite. Not even pulling away when Tim started crying all over him.
“You’re making him cry, B,” Dick says from behind Bruce. “Move aside, he needs a hug from his favorite brother.”
Bruce presses another kiss to Tim’s forehead and acquiesces, rising up from the floor as Dick swoops in and pulls him in for a secure hug, arms placed carefully where the welts didn’t reach. It was considerate enough for Tim’s tears to begin anew.
“Yeah, great job,” Jason says dryly. “He’s crying more now, dickface. You suck at this.”
“They’re happy tears,” Dick responds defensively, pressing a territorial kiss onto the top of Tim’s ruffled hair. “You’re just jealous he’s not hugging you.”
“And I’m only allowing it ‘cause I got a hug earlier.”
Dick flips him off and Bruce smacks his hand down. “Behave yourself, both of you. And as much as I’d like to let you two hug for as long as you want, I need to fix Tim’s back up.”
“Right,” Dick mutters, giving Tim a quick squeeze before letting him go.
“Lay him down on the bed and then pants the little shit,” Jason orders from the wall. “His dirtbag of a dad didn’t bother stopping when he got to his boxers, and I don’t know what kind of bruising he’s got going on.”
“Jason,” Tim hisses, glaring at him. He didn’t need them to look at the whole damage, especially not his butt. That was embarrassing. And Jason was just trying to set him up at this point.
Jason just raises an eyebrow and levels Tim with an unimpressed look. “Don’t even try that shit, Timmers. We’re looking at your bare ass if that’s where you’re injured. Just wait till you hear about Dick landing legs spread on a fence outside Arkham.”
“Don’t you dare,” Dick says, his ears growing red as he points a threatening finger at Jason. “That incident stays confidential.”
Jason raises his hands in surrender with a shit-eating smirk on his face and Tim knows he’s not winning this one. Bruce gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he directs Tim towards the bed, hovering for an overprotective second as Tim shrugs off his sweats and climbs up onto it. He tries not to wince at the way it pulls at his legs and flops onto his front, head resting on his crossed arms.
Dick lets out a low whistle at the swath of skin showing between Tim’s knees and boxers, painted a deep, angry red and sporting dark blooms of purple bruising. He leans closer and frowns. “Is that blood, baby bird?”
Tim shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably.”
“Permission to seriously maim someone, B?”
B runs his fingers through Tim’s hair and scowls. “I’m considering it.”
Tim goes to protest, he doesn’t want them to maim his dad, when Bruce starts carding his hand through Tim’s hair in a slow, soothing manner, knocking all means of resistance out of his mind. He can’t say no when Bruce is being this nice to him, he can barely think straight. He’s in too much pain to fall asleep, but laying here is nice, so Tim closes his eyes and lets Bruce’s hand lull him into a haze.
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Somehow he must have fallen asleep, because when Tim next opens his eyes he is in a large, four poster bed, tucked securely under the blankets with bandages spanning his back to his knees. They’re almost masterfully done, because Bruce was the one who did it, and it’s a far cry from the shoddy bandaging Tim had learned to do over the years.
He shifts, rolling to his right and running into a broad chest. He follows it up to see Bruce laying next to him, one arm underneath his head and his other on the bed between them. He’s awake, and he meets Tim’s gaze with a small smile.
“Hey, bud,” Bruce says.
Tim sighs and leans towards Bruce, a warm feeling rushing into his chest when Bruce reaches over and pulls him closer, tucking him securely into his chest. His shirt smells like the cologne he always wears, and Tim realizes that he doesn’t feel scared with his back facing the door. Not with Bruce here and his arms around him.
“How are you feeling?”
Bruce’s voice is a deep rumble in his chest, and Tim can feel it. He’s close enough to Bruce that he can feel his voice, and he’s not angry at Tim. Nobody is yelling at him. “I’m okay.”
The door creaks open and Dick shoulders his way in, a tray balanced on one hand with a book in the other. Tim turns his head to try and see what’s on top of the tray, and Dick places it on the bed next to him. It’s tomato soup and some crackers, and the book in Dick’s hand as he sits on the edge of the bed is Robinson Crusoe .
“You’re on bed rest until the doctor clears you, so I figured I could read to you a bit, to help the time pass by.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Tim starts, shuffling upright.
“Yeah, I know,” Dick says, cutting off any further statement from Tim. “I’m doing it ‘cause I want to. So you’re just going to have to put up with it.”
Tim relaxes (holy shit Dick wanted to be here?) and smiles. “You picked a good book.”
“Nerd,” Jason says as he saunters in through the doorway, dressed up in tactical black. “Tim, do we have to worry about your old man making any phone calls?”
“Right,” Bruce says, now leaning back against the headboard. “Is he going to be reporting you missing?”
Tim shakes his head. “No, he’s in the air right now. He had an early flight.”
“Mother fucker . What a bastard,” Jason grumbles, pulling a long, wicked-looking knife from his boot and tossing it onto the dresser. He reaches back and pulls two more knives out of his tactical belt, followed by six daggers along his legs. He tosses the last handful onto the floor, giving them a kick under the dresser. “Got ready for nothing.”
“I said be subtle about it,” Dick mutters, wrinkling his nose at the collection of weaponry on the floor. “And don’t kick your knives around the house.”
“No point being subtle if I can’t even knife the bastard,” Jason gripes back. “And it’s B’s room, he doesn’t care.”
“Better here than in someone’s eye,” Bruce says, giving Tim’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Though I’m not sure why you thought I’d let you go out and maim someone when you’re supposed to be recovering.”
“Me?” Jason says, raising an eyebrow and pointing at himself.
“Yes, you,” Bruce says calmly. He points to the empty spot on the bed next to Tim and Dick. “Paralysis is a big deal. You’re confined to bed rest.”
“Like hell,” Jason glares, taking a step back.
Tim’s face fell before he realized he was being transparent. “You’re leaving?”
Dick smirks and points to the bed. “Nope. He’s sitting his ass down right here.”
Jason points back at Dick in return. “Nobody asked you.”
“You’re telling me you’re going to leave your baby brother alone when he clearly wants you here?”
Tim’s face burns. He hadn’t meant to sound so needy. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to stay, Jason. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that.”
“You’re a jerk,” Jason says, his finger still pointing at Dick. “And I’m hiding a scorpion in your bed, Dickface.” And then he stalks over to the bed and drops down onto the bed next to Tim, swinging his feet up onto Dick’s lap.
Tim looks over at Jason in surprise and then looks down to hide the giant smile trying to stretch across his face. He doesn’t succeed because Dick laughs and Jason tugs him closer, ruffling his hair. Jason was warm, it felt like being pulled closer to a heater, and it made Tim want to stay there for the rest of the day. He didn’t think he could get out of bed if he tried.
“Can I sleep over at the manor tonight?” Tim asks, half-holding his breath as he asks it. He desperately wants to be here another night, and he’s hoping Bruce will let him. He knows he can go back to his house now that his dad’s gone, there’s no threat of him being hurt, but it’s so lonely in there. “I know I’m not patrolling, but I won’t get in the way.”
Dick frowns, looking over at Bruce. “He was half out of it, B. You’re going to have to go over it all again.”
“You listening, Tim?” Bruce asks, his hand moving back to scratch through Tim’s hair.
Tim nods carefully, terrified that Bruce is going to break the news that they actually can’t do anything about it, not with his parent’s influence, but they’ll be here to patch him up if they need to.
“You’re moving into the manor permanently.”
Tim blinks. Processes what Bruce just said. “I can sleep over whenever I want?”
“Not quite. It’s not sleeping over anymore. You’re going to live here with us now.”
Tim wants to break at that. He wants to curl into himself and splinter because it’s everything he’s ever wanted. He can’t count the number of nights he’s laid awake and bargained with the darkness to make himself loveable, to the extent that he was tolerated past his usefulness. And it’s here, right in front of him. He just doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch it.
“I don’t think my parents will like that.”
“Who gives a fuck,” Jason says bitingly, spitting the words out with enough vitriol to match Tim’s own pain.
“What Jason means to say,” Bruce says, his hands keeping the steady rhythm in Tim’s hair. Back and forth like it was natural for him. “Is that it doesn’t matter what your parents like. What’s important is your safety and well-being, and living here is where we can give those things to you.”
Tim bites his lower lip. “They won’t keep paying for me though. They’ll cut off my grocery funds, and my health insurance, and my school fees, and they’ll be really pissed. I really appreciate you offering this, I’d love to live here, I swear, but I don’t have a job yet, I can’t afford all that. I can try and get one though, if you really need me to move out. Just give me a few weeks.”
Dick’s face got an odd, pinched look to it. “Timmy, we’re transferring guardianship to Bruce. We’ll be paying for all that.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Bruce asks, like Tim didn’t just say it.
“You know,” Tim shrugs, hoping Bruce doesn’t stop running his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t think he does,” Jason drawls. “I think you better elaborate on that one.”
Tim brings his knees up to his chest and leans in a little closer to Jason like he’s a shield. Like if this all goes wrong maybe he’ll cover for Tim, make sure Bruce doesn’t get too angry at him. “For having to pay for all that. It’s a lot.”
“Tim, I’m sure you’re quite aware of how disgustingly rich I am.”
“No, I know. It’s just the principle of the matter, that’s all.”
“It’s not,” Bruce says, and his voice is rough, catching at the edges. “There’s no principle here. I want to pay for that. I want my money going towards something I love, and you are something I love. I will never once be sorry for making sure you are taken care of Timothy Wayne, and I don’t want you to ever forget that. I want you here. We all want you here.”
Tim starts crying again, and he tries to hold it back because there’s no reason for him to be crying. Bruce was telling him happy things, but he couldn't stop the tears that were coming despite it all. He was allowed to have this wonderful, precious thing. Somebody was holding him and he was allowed to hold back.
“Oh, kiddo,” Bruce says, in that patience Tim could never find in his own father. And he doesn’t resist when Bruce reaches over to pull him from Dick’s side back into Bruce’s embrace, instead leaning into the hug, trying to memorize the smell of Bruce’s cologne so he could remember this day, this second for the rest of his life.
“The fuck,” Jason mutters. “My speech wasn’t half as good as that. That’s some blatant favoritism right there.”
“I didn’t even get a speech, you little twerp,” Dick gripes, flicking Jason in the leg. “If we’re lodging complaints you need to get in line.”
Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Do you two really need a speech to know how much I love you?”
Dick blinks and then breaks into a wide grin. “Aw, I love you too, you old softie.”
“I don’t know, I think I’d like a re-do,” Jason says, smirking at Bruce. “The first one was a little lackluster.” He winks at Dick. “Gotta call his bluff, dickface.”
“Jason Todd Wayne,” Bruce starts. “You are my pride and joy. I love you more than you can ever imagine, and I thank God every day I get to call you my son. You will always have a room in this manor, Jaylad, and you will always have a place in my heart, you wil—”
“Alright!” Jason yells, his face bright red. “Okay. I get it. You weren’t kidding. You can stop there.”
Tim laughs, a sound at odds with the tears on his face, but he’s the happiest he’s ever been, right here. He looks over at Jason and can’t help but laugh at the embarrassed look on Jason’s face, a far cry from the cocky smugness that had been there only a few seconds ago.
Dick is grinning so hard it looks like it might fall off his face. “You want to complain again, Jay?”
“Shut up.”
Dick wiggles his eyebrows at Tim like he’s in on the big joke and pushes the soup towards him. “Start eating, baby bird, Alfred’s going to be devastated if you eat his soup cold.”