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Tim hasn’t been to any galas since he was five years old. To say that he is nervous would be an extreme understatement. He pulls on the edge of his sleeves absentmindedly as he watches the greens of Bristol turn into the greys of Gotham proper. His parents are in the front of the car with Jack driving as they talk about who they are excited to talk to. Which really just translates into who they are planning to schmooze with for the evening and whp they hope to secure partnerships with. Tim knows that he should be listening so that he can remember their names, but he also knows that his part to play in their plan is to be cute and stand quietly beside which on of them chooses to pull him over.
Tim wishes that he has his camera so that he could capture the way that the yellows from the street lights blend together with the grays of the buildings. He sighs quietly, wishing that he could capture the beauty and magic of Gotham in a picture. The closest that he’s gotten is capturing a moment between Batman and Robin when the both of them were smiling as they stand on the ledge of a rooftop and looking down at their beloved city. Well, Robin is smiling and Batman isn’t frowning. The building is not high enough the lights of the city can’t reach them, they are just outside of the ring of light, the stray rays reaching up to them as though they are the city’s angels.
That is Tim’s favorite picture of Batman and Robin, ever. Of Batman and the first Robin.
Even though he has captured plenty of pictures of the second Robin, Tim hasn’t captured a favorite shot of him. That’s not a dig at Jason, Tim just thinks that Jason needs a bit of time to get more comfortable as himself and in the suit. He’s already Tim’s favorite of the two. Jason is his Robin, afterall.
Tim’s leg starts bouncing as a drop of excitement splashes into his ocean of anxiety and he sits up straighter. He can’t believe that he’s seeing Batman in person. He doesn’t even need to sneak around and hide! It’s actually Brucie Wayne that he’ll be seeing and meeting. But he’s still Batman!!
Dick Grayson and Jason Todd are going to be there, too! Nightwing and Robin in attendence with Batman!
Tim forces his leg to stop bouncing when Jack looks at him through the mirror as he turns the car into the driveway of the hall that is hosting the gala. “You ready, son?”
Tim blinks away his thoughts of Batman as he smiles politely, mouth closed with the corners of his lips barely pulling up into a curve, at his dad and nods. “I’m ready!”
Janet’s face twitches almost imperceptibly in the rearview mirror and Tim slouches into the car’s backseat, shame burning in his cheeks. “Quiet down, Timothy. Adults don’t like loud kids, you know that.”
“I’m sorry, mother,” Tim enunciates the words clearly, thankful that he isn’t struggling with his r’s as much as he used to. All of those speech classes that Janet had insisted on him attending paying off. At this rate, he won’t have to take them this coming up school year! Middle schoolers don’t have to go to speech classes and Tim so desperately wants to fit in with the older kids. “I will be quiet.”
Janet hums noncommittally as she pulls her sun visor down and touches up her lipstick in the little mirror.
“Wayne’s kids are supposed to be attending. You like them, don’t you, Timmy?” Jack asks, pulling into a spot in the middle of the parking lot. “What are their names? Richard and Jason?”
“Yeah. Richard goes by Dick, though,” Tim confirms as he turns to unbuckle his seatbelt, missing Janet scrunch her nose in distate. “And I’m going to be in the same grade as Jason Todd when this semester starts.”
“I don’t know why Bruce would let his son go by that name,” Janet’s lips curl into a sneer and she sniffs pompously. “It’s so uncouth for a man of his standing.”
“His family used to call him that,” Tim states, not unkindly. “Maybe it’s his way of remembering and honoring them.”
The real way that Dick honored his parents was using his parents’ name for him and hunting down Tony Zucco. Tim couldn’t just say that, though. He would never tell anyone their identities. Not even to the Joker himself.
And he’s really scary.
Like really, really scary.
A few years ago, Tim had almost got caught up in one of his stunts, but he managed to squirm out of the goon’s arms and run away before they were able to tie him up. After that, Tim stays inside or finds a hidey-hole when the Joker breaks out of Arkham.
“Right, he’s from the circus,” Janet spits the word like it leaves a bad aftertaste in her mouth as she steps out of the car and moves to open Tim’s door for him. Despite him being a whole nine years old, a big kid’s age, Jack insists on the back doors being child locked until Tim is older. “Timothy, I don’t want you calling him by that crude name and don’t be talking to that Todd boy, either.”
“Yes, mother,” Tim pouts as he dutifully clambers out of his carseat and then out of the car itself, knowing that he would be too shy to go up to them, anyway. But if they talk to him, then he is not disobeying Janet. He’s a genius, truly! Tim drops the pout into a carefully maintained blank face as straightens up and fixes his suit jacket.
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The hall is bright and gaudy and stuffy and as Tim gets pulled this way and that way and charms his parents’ potential and current business partners. Oversized crystal chandeliers hang over the spacious room. Marble columns line the walls, alternating in size. The walls are a bare offwhite and has just the slightest pattern that you have to close to be able to see.
Tim gives his best gala smile at Mr. and Mrs. McNamara, the CEO and COO of McNamara Comestics. They are new to Gotham and, according to Tim’s parents, have made an impressive entrance into the business scene. Whatever that means.
“Hello,” Tim holds his hand out and angles it upward for Mr. McNamara to shake. His growth spurt hasn’t hit yet, okay. “My name is Tim Drake.”
Mrs. McNamara coos at Tim and crouches to be eye level with him. “Aren’t you just the cutest little businessman?”
“He’s taken after his mother in that department. Haven’t you, sport?” Jack praises as he softly ruffles his hair. “He’s a smart one. Little Timmy here is already going to be in eighth grade.”
Tim’s face warms up at the praise from his dad and altough Janet won’t let it show, Tim knows that she is proud of him. Even if she wanted him to skip ahead to ninth grade instead of eight. His dad and doctor insisted on eight grade being the highest for. They said they worried about his developmental milestones. His social skills were a big concern from Jack.
Tim doesn’t know what they are so upset about. He can talk with others just fine. So what that he doesn’t have any friends his age. Or at all.
Besides, his parents aren’t even home long enough to actaully know if he has friends or not. So, really, Tim doesn’t understand what the big deal is.
After his parents finish talking to Mr. and Mrs. McNamara, they split and Jack leads Tim over to an older couple. Before they reach them, Tim reaches up and lightly tugs on his dad’s sleeve as he feels his bladder start hurting really bad.
“What’s up, bud?” Jack questions as he stops and looks down at Tim.
Tim blushes and stands up onto his tippy-toes as he pulls harder on Jack’s sleeve so that he can whisper into his ear. Jack smiles and crouches down for Tim to be able to cup his ear. “I got to use the restroom, dad.”
“Do you know where it is?” Jack whispers back, also cupping Tim’s ear when he speaks. Tim nods his head quickly and he tries not to squirm where he’s standing in place. Jack stands up and pats Tim on the shoudler twice. “Than you can by yourself, bud. Just come find me when you’re done, alright?”
“Okay,” Tim says and nods seriously before walking as fast as his little legs can take him without running or catching anyone’s attention because he has to go.
Like really badly.
Really. Really. Badly.
The corridors are huge and gaping. Tim doesn’t think that he will ever get over how they seemingly swallow him whole. They make him feel like he ate the cake that made Alice shrink and he has no way of getting the drink to make himself big again.
Tim quickly learns that even though he knows how to get to the restrooms, the hallways are a labrynth designed to feel it never ends. He had no problem reaching the restroom, but now he can’t find his way back to the gala. He made sure to note the turns, but somehow he took a wrong turn at some point and now he is wandering through the building as he tries not to panic or cry.
He sniffs and rubs at his eyes as tears start to trickle out of his eyes, the panic forcing its way out in the form of the salty water that is now carving paths down his cheeks. Tim is trying to push his panic back when he bumps into something solid and bouncing off of it. Before he knows what is happening, a pair of hands catch him and helps him steady himself. The smell of ozone and damp Earth makes Tim open his eyes.
“Mr. Wayne,” Tim exclaims softly, his eyes wide and shiny with tears, when he looks up and makes eye contact with Bruce Wayne.
He ran into Bruce Wayne.
Batman!
“Just Bruce is fine,” Mr. Wayne - Bruce! - chuckles as he gently wipes the tears off of Tim’s face. “Are you alright?”
Tim nods so quickly that he is surprised his brain doesn’t crack his skull open and fall out. He looks up at Bruce, Batman!!, because even when the man is crouching, he is still taller than Tim. “I’m okay, Mr- Bruce.”
The smell of petrichor reaches Tim’s nose as concern and worry waft off of Bruce (Batman!!!) as he checks Tim over for any injuries or other bodily harm.
Wait, petrichor? Why is Tim smelling rain inside a building? Tim doesn’t smell like rain, he smells like citrus and clay.
So, that means that Bruce Wayne - Batman, seriously!! - smells like petrichor. Humans don’t have smells like that, which mean that Bruce is a dragon!
Bruce Wayne is a dragon!
Bruce Wayne is a dragon!
Batman is a dragon!!
Batman is a dragon!!
“What is your name, buddy?” Bruce asks softly, he voice giving no hint of his Batman (!!!) voice, but still has the same tone that he uses when comforting scared kids or hurt victims.
Which is completely rediculous because Tim is not scared and he is most definitely not hurt.
“Tim. Timothy Drake,” Tim answers, his cheeks itchy and pink from crying. He reaches up and srcubs his hands against his cheeks to get the leftover tears off.
“What are you doing on the other side of the hall, Tim?” Bruce, Batman!!, asks gently as he rests his hands on his knees.
“I got lost.” Tim looks away from Bruce (Batman!!) as his face gets even more red just when it was starting to go back to his normal tone. “I went to the restroom, but I don’t remember my way back.”
Bruce’s - Batman, oh my god!! - brows furrow as he frowns and Tim can feel his panic rise again. Tim knows what Batman does to criminal, he’s watched it with his own two eyes. Tim’s not a criminal, but he just upset Batman!
Tim is in entirely uncharted territory. He upset Batman and his dad is probably wondering what’s taking him so long while not even caring.
Atleast with Jack, Tim knows what to expect. Tim has absolutely no idea where he stands with Batman.
“It’s okay, though!” Tim quickly reassures the man infront of him and gives him. “It’s my fault that I got lost, I can find my way back. You don’t have to help me, I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
Batman’s frown gets deeper and Tim doesn’t know what he said wrong. He can’t back track, so he should stop talking.
But the words keep pouring out of his mouth.
Tim is certain that if he wasn’t wearing scent blockers, Batman would be able to smell the sharp, overwhelming scent of citrus panic and fear that would be coming from him in tidal waves.
Tim takes a few steps back so that he isn’t within arm’s reach of Batman. “I’m really sorry for running into you, Ba- Bruce.”
He’s talking to Bruce Wayne, not Batman.
That was such a close slip-up, he hopes that Bruce didn’t catch it.
Tim takes in a deep, steadying breath as he focuses on how to get away from Bruce without being rude. But he doesn’t know what to say, Bruce already knows that he doesn’t know how to get back to the gala. So, he is obviously going to feel obligated to help Tim.
That deep breath did not help steady him. At all.
Instead, they prompt tears to spill down his face. Again.
“Hey, Tim,” Bruce, not Batman, calls out softly as he grabs one of Tim’s hands and places it on his chest so that Tim can feel the movement of his exaggerated breathing. With his free hand, he wipes the tears off of his face “Breathe with me, buddy. That’s it. You’re doing so well, Tim.”
Tim’s breaths are shaky as he tries to follow Bruce’s example and breathe in and out in controlled breaths. Somehow, he manages to not choke as he tries to get his lungs full of air and his breathing under control. It takes Tim few moments, but he finally feels like he is completely in his body again.
“I’m sorry. Mr- Bruce,” Tim steps back into the wall before moving sideways so that the older man isn’t blocking his path. While Tim has no doubt the Bruce could stop him from running away if he so wished to do so, the kid has no intention of not running.
Which he does, after thanking Bruce for stopping and checking on him.