Chapter Text
Tim finishes fixing his hair and applying a bit of make up (concealer for the eye bags and a bit of eyeliner) and looks at himself in the bathroom mirror.
He isn't wearing formal clothes, but he did want to wear something nice. He is wearing a grey sweater with a shirt underneath, some light jeans and his usual black converse. With the addition of his favourite camera swinging on his neck. He got it back when he was nine, although it isn't his first one. That thing was destroyed in a bad fall when he was following the bats. He skipped a few meals and saved enough money to buy this one, which Jason would probably lecture him for if he knew.
Anyways, he has to catch the bus to school if he wants to arrive with time.
Wait- Is this thing going to last a lot? Should he tell Bruce? It isn't dangerous, so its probably fine. He'll just tell him in his way to the door.
Tim gets downstairs and grabs his coat, going to the kitchen where he can hear voices from as he puts it on.
"Hey guys, I'm going to a school thing. I won't be here for dinner." He says, already turning away.
He sees Dick frown, though. "A school thing? This late?" He asks.
"Yeah, it's just a photography contest I'm participating in." He says.
"Wait a damn minute, you like taking pictures?" Jason asks, looking away from where he was painting Cass' nails.
"Uh- Yeah. It's cool. I need to go now or I won't catch the bus, though." He says, looking at his clock.
"There's no need for that, I'll drive you." Bruce intervenes, getting up from his chair.
"Oh- You really don't have to, it's fine"
"Tim, why didn't you tell us?" Asks Dick.
Well hello, dear anxiety. Long time no see. Fuck.
"Should have I asked you?" He has to give himself a tap in the back for this one, because he pulls of the casual tone flawlessly despite of the growing anxiety that treats to overcome his body.
"No, Tim- We are just interested in this kind of things." Says Bruce.
Huh.
"You are into photography?" He asks, bewildered. He can't recall any of them mentioning something like that.
"That's not the point, Timbo. We are interested in the things you do." Says Jason, voice firm bit weirdly kind
Wait, what? But why would they-
Dick seems to see the confusion on his face, because he opens his mouth to explain, voice patient and calmed. "Like with Cass, we aren't very into dancing, but she likes it so we go see her and support her because we love her and what she does is beautiful. Same with Damian's art exhibits, we might not understand the technical bit, but we just want to admire what he does."
Oh, that makes sense.
And it also does weird things to his heart.
Look, Tim knows his family loves him. It's just a recent discovery.
Cass loves him a lot, as weird as it is. She has made it really clear thousands of times, so Tim ended up having to believe her.
Steph comes in close second. Just after they broke up, they became besties. Like, instantly. She is helping a lot with his...thing with Bernard.
Dick is his big brother, and the person he has hugged the most in his life. He knows he loves him, but it's a bit harder to believe at times.
Jason has apologised for what he did at the tower a lot of times, and Tim thinks he still feels guilty about it. Even if he forgave him a long time ago. They have been hanging out more lately, it's cool. Tim thinks of him as his brother as well.
Damian and him had a really bad start, but they are getting better. Tim isn't sure what Damian thinks, but Tim loves his little brother with all his heart.
And Duke, the newest member of the family, is just too nice. They've gotten pretty close. Same with Babs, and Kate helps him with his not-hetero problems.
Tim knows all this, logically.
But sometimes is hard to believe, because he forced Bruce to want him.
He isn't going to get on his thoughts on Bruce- because that is a jungle- But it's complex, and Tim needs time to stop feeling like he should leave them now that Bruce doesn't need him.
But, things like this help him remember.
"Oh." Great Tim, amazing summary of all you previous thoughts. So inspiring, god.
"Yeah, oh. Tell us next time, brat" Jason says, as he ruffles his hair.
As Tim looks trough the car's window, he feels something uncomfortable settling in his stomach. Oh! Is this anxiety round two?
Perfect, it's the kind that you feel approaching slowly without being able to stop it from blowing up. Fan-fuckin-tastic.
The second they get out of the car, Tim uses all his act skills to make a convincing enough excuse to get away, he thinks he says something in the lines of "catching up to some friends from class before the ceremony". Which he could actually do, if his chest decided to stop choking him.
He is in a bathroom now, he must've got there at some point.
His hands shake as he attempts to splash cold water on his face, wait- No, bad idea. He has makeup on, and he isn't sure if the eyeliner is waterproof.
Okay, Tim. Time to analyse where the fuck this anxiety comes from. Deeps breaths.
There. Okay, that makes so much sense. Tim didn't give a fuck about the prize, honestly.
But now Bruce will know when he loses. And- They came here to see him, having better things to do, just for him to-
Breath, tim. That's important. He doesn't know how much time he has until the ceremony.
Fuck.
No. Chill the fuck out, Tim. Deep breaths.
But what if he gets mad and leaves Tim there and he has to walk all the way on foot and he shouts at him and he is mad and it hurts and he is cold and it hurts-
The door of the bathroom opens.
Tim is inside one of the smaller cubicles (What? wasn't he in the sink? when did he-), so whatever guy entered can't see him. Small mercies.
"Tim? Are you there, Baby bird?" That's- That's Dick's voice.
Uh, well it's not like he can see him. If he stays quiet, he won't ever know he was here and he can pretend everything is okay when he gets back.
But like- He could really use a Dick's hug right now.
He opens the door slowly, and just places his head in his brothers chest without saying anything. Taking a couple of shaky breaths.
"Oh, baby. Did you get anxious over the competition?" Dick's voice his soft as he hugs him. He can feel his fingers playing with Tim's hair.
He shakes his head, not finding the strength to talk just yet.
Dick hums encouragingly, and keeps petting his hair.
"It's dumb" Tim says, after some time.
"No it isn't, if you feel bad then the best thing you can do is express it." Dick counters.
Tim huffs, but doesn't argue.
"Come on, little genius. Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours."
Tim shallows. "Its- I'm scared you'll be disappointed if I loose." More like terrified of your inevitable anger when you realise this was a waste of time, he doesn't say.
"Tim, You've shown me your photos. There is no way you are losing. And even if you do, we honestly don't give a fuck. We are here for you and you alone, not some cheap-ass medal. Also, it would be rigged." Dick replies.
Tim takes a long, deep breath. "Okay. Thank you, Dick."
Dick smiles at him. "Just mention me in your winner's speech, Timmy."
Later, when he gets to the stage to explain his pictures, he looks at his family's proud smiles and believes his brother's words. They make his gold trophy seem dull, with their eyes full of wonder as he shows a particularly ethereal photo of Gotham's rainy night.
Bruce takes them to Tim's favourite pizza restaurant, and if he cries a little over hid slice, well.
Let's just say Tim wasn't aware he needed so much something he never had.
My life is a fucking joke. Tim thinks, as he stares at a microwave that very kindly refuses to work.
He just wanted to heat up his tea.
Ugh. Time for a YouTube search.
A weird korean man happens to have his exact same microwave showing the exact same error, and Tim thanks all existent gods of his mother's korean heritage and her obsession with Tim learning the language.
He sets the device in the floor, and grabs the screwdriver to follow the man's directions.
"Tim? What are you doing on the floor?" Steph's voice makes him turn his head to the kitchen entrance, where Duke enters from as well. It's probably almost lunch time, thank god Tim has almost finished with this.
"The microwave broke, I just finished fixing it." He replies, putting it back into place.
"Huh, why didn't you just tell Bruce? You know he has enough money for a new one." Duke says.
Tim shrugs, and heats up his tea in it.
They fall into an easy chat after that, Steph trying to convince him to get a tongue piercing. Soon enough, the kitchen fills with the rest of the family.
"Oh, before I forget, the microwave is broken. I'll order a new one later." Bruce says.
Tim looks up from his phone. "I fixed it, it works fine now."
Bruce looks a bit taken aback from this.
"That's great, Tim. But why didn't you just told me?" He eventually says, carefully picking his words.
"Force of habit, I guess. i'm not really used to not living alone." He shrugs. "and just because you're rich doesn't mean you shouldn't try to fix things before replacing them." He says, raising an eyebrow at him. Jason snorts.
Bruce looks a bit sheepish. "Point taken. But it isn't your responsibility to fix this kid of things, so just tell me next time and i'll take care of it."
Tim squints his eyes at him. "Okay, but technically I have the most experience fixing my house stuff by myself"
Dick frowns. "No you don't, I moved to Blud six years ago."
TIm smirks. "I've been doing it for seven! Accept it, Dick, I'm the ultimate house stuff-fixer."
The silence that his statement brings is a bit worrying.
"Tim, are you saying that your parents started to leave you alone at home at five?" Dick's voice is cold as ice.
Well, if you put it like that it does sound a bit bad.
"They stopped hiring overnight babysitters just before I turned five, and then just didn't get another one when school ended." For the look on their faces, it isn't a very reassuring thing to hear.
Bruce sighs and puts a hand on his hair. "I trust you understand how bad that is?"
"Saying it out loud helps," He answers.
His chest feels a bit lighter, too.
Tim was having a really bad day.
Some racist asshole made a comment about his eyes at school, making fun of his mother's eyes. And Tim doesn't usually give a fuck about comments like that, but he got a reminder on his phone today about her mom's birthday and he heard one of his friends at school talk about how great where her mom's cookies and-
He misses her, so much.
And when he misses her, he likes to do things that remind him of her.
You see, different cigars' brands smell differently.
And this specific one smells like his mom.
But as he takes his second one, sitting in a rooftop staring at Gotham's night, he realises he might've miscalculated.
"Red Robin." Batman says, behind him.