Chapter Text
It is a balance of many things with Tim as he adjusts to life in Wayne Manor. Cass wants to show him he is loved, and that is the most important thing, because Tim is very loved, but how to do so is a balance of protecting and teaching and learning.
"Like this," Cass says, and she extends her arms as she taps her toes in rhythmic motions, imitating the video they have paused on the TV.
Tim frowns. It is a deep frown.
In the lines of that frown, Cass can see him thinking, and not happy thoughts. She stops her dance and she raises her eyebrows and she waits expectantly.
"You think I can do that?" Tim asks tentatively.
"You can do many things," Cass points out. "Running on rooftops and that."
Tim gives half of a snort at that. "That doesn't mean I'll be any good at tap-dancing."
"We said we would try it," Cass said. "I tried it. Now you."
"I don't know," Tim says, and suddenly his body curls in uncertainty.
This is not just about the dancing. Cass can tell. She waits again.
"What if I'm not good at it?" Tim asks after a long moment.
Cass shrugs and does a twirl, spinning to face him again. "Then you are not good at it."
Tim's face twists like she had hit him.
Uh-oh. What Tim heard is not what Cass was trying to say. Hurrying to explain, Cass says, "Not that. It is not… Not you. You are good."
Tim continues to curl in on himself, legs drawing up next to himself on the couch.
"Tim, you are good," Cass repeats firmly.
"Everybody's been saying that," Tim says quietly.
"And everybody believes that," Cass says.
"I don't," Tim admits. He curls in on himself more, hugging his arms around his legs, uncertainty and doubt and shame, so much shame.
Cass steps forward. She holds a hand out to Tim.
Tim stares at her hand, then at her face.
Cass smiles gently. "You do not have to believe it yet. We will say it and show it and do it and believe it until you believe it. You are good."
"I'm good," Tim breathes quietly.
"Even if not good at dancing," Cass says. It is a joke.
Thankfully, Tim takes it as such. He gives a little smile and uncurls some.
Cass keeps holding her hand out, waiting.
Tim takes her hand. He pulls himself up off of the couch.
Cass looks at their joined hands. She gives Tim a squeeze.
Tim squeezes back.
"I love you," Cass says.
Tim's body stiffens, but after only a moment, his body goes looser and happier, more content than he'd been since before Cass stopped dancing. Quietly, Tim says, "I love you too."
As soon as the words leave his mouth, Tim darts his gaze up toward Cass. He is expecting something, something bad or something good.
Cass smiles and squeezes his hand again.
Tim smiles back. That was something very good. "So."
"So," Cass says. It is half a question, half an answer.
"Show me that tap-dancing move again?" Tim says, and Cass begins.