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When Damian trudges to take his seat at the breakfast table, he looks like he got less sleep than Tim, and that’s saying something.
Damian, typically, is the most put-together member of their fucked-up little family. At least, on the outside. His composure is legendary and his appearance is meticulous. Which is why it’s concerning that the bags under his eyes are rivaling Tim’s and his hair looks uncombed and he, in general, appears unkempt for the first time in Tim’s living memory.
He almost says something. Almost. Because while his relationship with Damian has improved over the years, he still doubts that Damian would want him commenting if something is wrong. And something is clearly wrong. So Tim keeps his mouth shut and keeps eating his breakfast, scrolling through his emails without actually reading any of them.
“Drake,” Damian grumbles, some sort of half-hearted greeting. He’s got his own bowl of cereal (with the almond milk he won’t let any of the rest of them touch). Alfred and Bruce have been overseas negotiating a Wayne Enterprises merger for a week now– they’re not due back for another week. The kids are all capable of fending for themselves and they’ve got a chore rotation going so the manor doesn’t fall apart, and Dick’s been parading around in the Batman suit so no one puts two and two together, but they’re all suffering a bit in Alfred’s absence. He really is the stabilizing factor in their family.
Tim grunts something through a mouthful of cereal in response to Damian. He’s got six emails from a former board member of Drake Industries, something something lawsuit, something something breach of contract. He skims the most recent one and forwards all of them to the legal department. Damian’s eyes are still on him. Tim sighs and sets his phone down, figuring it’s time for his monthly “big brother duty,” since Dick is out cold after a hellish patrol.
Damian is frowning. Looking at Tim like he’s a particularly interesting puzzle, one that Damian is unable to parse together. It’s a look that Tim has been on the receiving end of multiple times. He raises an eyebrow and waits for Damian to say something. Damian instead shovels a bite of cereal into his mouth. Tim waits.
“How do you do it?” Damian asks eventually.
“Do what?” Tim asks, giving him a look. He makes a noise of frustration and takes another bite of cereal. Again, Tim waits.
“You have as many traumatic experiences as the rest of us,” Damian says after he swallows. “And yet you do not seem to suffer the same consequences.”
Tim blinks once, twice. “I’m gonna need a little more explanation here, bud,” he says, because he has no idea where Damian’s getting this idea from. Tim’s prickly and irritable on his best days, his sleep schedule consists of napping when he can, and he’s unable to admit when he needs help. He’s terrible at communicating and he knows he’s a little manipulative and he compartmentalizes his issues so he doesn’t have to deal with them.
“I do not recall you ever having a… nightmare,” Damian says, like the words hurt him. Tim furrows his brow, because yeah, he has loads of nightmares, but he doesn’t talk about them. Not talking about his issues is, like, his whole thing. Talking about issues means acknowledging that the issues exist. But Damian is staring at his cereal like it’s offended him and he looks so upset, frustrated and a little sad, and Tim takes pity on him.
“I have nightmares all the time,” he offers. Damian doesn’t respond, keeps glaring at his cereal. “Is that why…” Tim gestures to Damian’s general dishevelment. Damian sniffs haughtily.
“Yes,” he says after a moment. “I have been having more, recently. But that is not all. You… I have tried to kill you. Many times. So has Todd.”
Oh, great, Tim thinks. He already dealt with this when Jason had a mini crisis over it. He supposes it would hit Damian eventually.
“And you’re wondering how I can move on like it never happened,” Tim guesses, and he thinks of a cut line and hitting the ground and a beating in a place he was supposed to be safe and a scar along his neck. “How I can work with you and call you my brother.”
“Yes,” Damian says stiffly. “I have… never been kind to you.”
“It’s not like I was any better,” Tim offers, because he’s not a teenager anymore and he can recognize that their lives are just one mess after another and no one ever knew what they were doing, and they still probably don’t.
“You did not attempt to murder me.”
“I also wasn’t raised by the League of Assassins,” Tim reminds him. “What’s bringing this on right now?”
Damian looks away sourly. That’s enough for Tim to guess, but he waits for Damian to confirm.
“I had a. Nightmare,” he says, still stiff. “We were younger. I succeeded in an attempt to truly take your place. In Father’s business, as Robin, all of it. It was as if you had never existed. There was no mourning. It was everything I had ever wanted, when I was younger.”
Tim would have been offended if they were still that age. Now, though, he can see the guilt written all over Damian’s features. He tries to channel Dick to the best of his ability, because yeah, he and the gremlin haven’t always gotten along, but Damian is still his little brother. And Tim does not like it when his siblings are hurting.
“What you wanted when you were younger,” Tim says slowly, “Is not the same as what you want now.”
“But some subconscious part of me–”
“Is remembering your past,” Tim interrupts. “What’s been going on? In real life, I mean. Something’s gotta be dredging up these memories and increasing the frequency of your nightmares. That’s how it usually goes.”
Damian frowns. “The new school year has started. I have begun high school.” Tim makes a noise of acknowledgement. High school sucks. “Jon and I had a fight, as well. Richard is being difficult and is forcing me to patrol less. And…”
Tim raises an eyebrow. Damian scowls. “My grandfather contacted me. I do not appreciate his communications.”
“Oh,” Tim says. Ra’s had tried to contact him, too, last week– tried being the key word, because Tim had knocked out the group of assassins and disappeared before any of them could relay whatever message was meant for him.
“It has all provoked some thought,” Damian says. “Thoughts which, I believe, led to this particular nightmare.” He shifts uncomfortably, then shovels another few bites of cereal into his mouth. Tim takes it as an invitation to speak.
“A lot of people have tried to kill me,” he says. “Multiple al Ghuls have tried to kill me. None of them have succeeded, not even you. But the difference between you and everyone else is that you stopped trying to kill me and started trying to make amends.”
“I have not–”
“Damian,” Tim says patiently. “You insist on taking my patrols when I’ve had long weeks. You purposefully try to get Ra’s off my back. When I’m out of town or off world you cover for both my civilian and my vigilante activities without me asking you to. And I don’t think you’ve genuinely insulted me in, like, a year.” Tim tries to give a reassuring smile. “None of us know how to be a good brother, just like Bruce doesn’t know how to be a good father. But we’re all trying. You’re trying.”
“I hated you for a very long time,” Damian says, still not entirely convinced.
“Right back at you,” Tim laughs. “Do you still hate me?”
Damian is silent for a moment. “No,” he says eventually.
“See? I don’t hate you now, either. We’ve both grown up a lot.” Damian still looks off put. Tim sighs. “I’m sorry for all the things I did wrong. I wasn’t a great brother for a long time, either. And I forgive you, Damian, for everything you did, too.”
“I suppose I forgive you as well,” he says. “Do not tell anyone about this conversation.”
“Okay,” Tim agrees. “But you should talk to Dick. He’s better at this stuff than I am.”
“Perhaps.”
“Or maybe you should just talk to Jon. The Kents are way better at coping than any of us.” Kon makes fun of him for it relentlessly.
“I told you. We fought.”
“Even more reason to talk to him.” Tim shrugs. “Relationships take work. Doesn’t matter what kind of relationship it is.”
“I see,” Damian says. Then, “I still do not understand how you do not hate me.”
“If I held a grudge against everyone who ever wronged me, I don’t think I’d have a single friend or family member left,” Tim says. “I don’t think any of us would.”
Damian hums. “Good point,” he says, and Tim thinks it might be the first time Damian’s ever gotten close to agreeing that Tim is right. Damian nods once, firmly, indicating that the conversation is over, and goes back to his cereal.
Tim picks up his phone again. A five minute conversation, and he’s already got seven new emails. On a Sunday.
“Hey, what are you doing today?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Damian answers.
“Great,” Tim says. “We’re gonna have a day off. I’m taking you to the zoo.”
Damian perks up at that, doesn’t even try to hide it. Tim grins at him, and Damian seems to settle down into himself a bit. He looks better than he had when he first sat down. Calmer, back to being assured in himself as he usually is.
“Excellent,” he says. “They have finished remodeling the tiger exhibit. I would like to see that first.”
“Sure thing,” Tim says. Damian gives him a thoughtful look, just a hint of mischief.
“I would like ice cream as well,” he says, and Tim laughs.
“Whatever you want,” he says, and he turns his phone off completely and leaves it behind on the table as he and Damian go to wash their dishes. Tim thinks it might be the first real brotherly bonding activity he and Damian have ever done. The most normal one, for sure. He tosses a handful of soapy foam at Damian and the kid shrieks indignantly, and Tim thinks maybe they’ll have to just be kids more often.
It’d be good for them.