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Some people would call this a cry for help.
Tim would call it a perfectly functional way to cope with the last-minute news that his parents were extending their trip. But, in all fairness, Tim wasn’t fully sober.
And it really was functional. Multi-functional, actually.
Throwing a party at Drake Manor might’ve been the most multipurpose solution to a problem that he’d ever had. And that was saying something. He was Tim Drake, after all (apparently Tim Drake was a little bit of a conceited asshole after a few shots but that girl he’d been talking to didn’t seem to mind. And the boy, the one that had slung an arm around Tim’s shoulders in a way that made him feel like he was on fire, definitely hadn’t minded).
So, yes, multifunctional.
It would definitely hurt his parents if they ever found out (which they wouldn’t). It distracted Tim from the gaping hole in his chest where his family weekend plans had been (and yet he hadn’t stopped thinking about the fact that they were supposed to go out to dinner tonight, as a family ). And, he wasn’t alone - Tim grinned as he weaved in and out of teenagers on his way back to the living room - that wasn’t a lie.
He didn’t recognize half of the faces that he smiled at, nor half of the backs he brushed against as he moved through the foyer but, with the loud music and sickly-sweet drink in his hand, he found it worryingly easy not to care.
He’d just finished gym class when he’d gotten the call (Timothy. Honey. Something amazing has happened- and then Tim had tuned out the bullshit excuse disguised as a once-in-a-lifetime business opportunity that meant Jack and Janet had to suffer through a luxury three-week stay in Monaco while Tim was sent an extra twenty-dollars for pizza) and his mouth had soured.
Again. No matter how hard he tried he was never able to extinguish the hope that this time would be the time. And - despite the dark disappointment that tugged at his chest and welled behind his eyes as he listened to Janet’s half-distracted apologies - he knew that he’d still feel just as hopeful next time. He’d hope only to be left hollow.
It was a cycle that he just couldn’t figure out how to break.
Ignoring all of his emotions only got him so far. Plus, it was hard to ignore the feeling of his heart being trampled on over and over and-
And then the soccer team had barged into the changing rooms, talking loud, complaining that they had a game tonight and nowhere to party afterward.
And, well, Tim had a place.
It had all worked out perfectly. Honestly, it was sort of as if the stars had aligned.
Bruce was off-world. Alfred was on holiday. Dick was in Bludhaven. Jason was... Well, Tim didn’t know where Jason was but he wasn’t a concern. No one would even think to check on him. He was supposed to be with his parents after all-
‘Tim-’ a hand brushed against his shoulder and he leaned into it with a happy sigh.
Drunk people were so touchy and Tim’s fuzzy, floating brain couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d never done this before.
‘-with us. If you want to?’ he blinked and saw the curly-haired boy, the nice one from his science class with the brown eyes and the touch that made him burn, staring at him expectantly.
He gave a stuttered nod and the boy grinned, tugging him along the hallway.
‘Wait,’ Tim’s eyebrows furrowed, ‘where are we going?’
The boy laughed, bright and infectious and Tim couldn’t help but grin.
‘Were you listening to a word I just said? Don’t make me ban you from drinking.’
Tim giggled and drank deeply from his cup.
‘You’ll ban me from my own kitchen?’
‘That depends on how drunk you are.’
Tim wasn’t drunk - the world wavered - he was pleasantly buzzed - why was he blinking so slowly? - it’d take a lot more than a couple of shots and two - he looked down at his glass - sweet-drink things - what even was that? - to get him drunk.
‘Not drunk enough to forget that you didn’t answer my question,’ he quipped.
‘Fresh air,’ the boy laughed in response, ‘I need a cigarette. The others are already outside doing god-knows-what considering they’re with Max, y’know, from history?’ the boy shrugged, words falling from his smiling lips so fast that Tim was surprised he could keep up, ‘I don’t take anything that I can’t smoke so I tune him out. Anyway, I don’t know what you’re into but some fresh air would be nice either way. It’s too hot in here.’
The fingertips digging into his bicep loosened and, before Tim could feel disappointed, the hand drifted down and laced with his own. Tim’s mouth parted and his heart raced and the hand squeezed gently,
‘Only what you’re comfortable with,’ the boy reassured and Tim melted. His heart swelled in his chest and warmth spread from his palm to his flushed, red face.
He stumbled forward, his grin stretched so wide that his cheeks ached. When he spoke, his voice lilted with drunken laughter and giddy happiness.
‘What are we waiting for then?’
Dick Grayson had plans. Things to do. A list - about as long as his arm - of people that he needed to talk to. He’d only planned to pop by.
His visit to Drake Manor was supposed to take less than twenty minutes (depending on how long it took for Tim to access a couple of case files while Dick made polite small-talk with the Drakes before pocketing the USB, ruffling Tim’s hair, and handing him a box of freshly baked, strawberry-filled pastry things from a heavenly patisserie in Bludhaven - an overpriced but totally mouthwatering apology for interrupting Tim’s family time so late at night).
That to-do list, and frankly every other to-do list, had updated the minute he’d set eyes on the Manor. The too-full, brightly lit, loudly thumping, Manor-turned-frat-house.
Dick took a deep, calming breath and tried not to think about why the house, in which his seventeen-year-old brother lived, resembled the landscape of far, far too many blurry nights from that one semester he’d spent at college.
Another deep breath.
Tim wasn’t Dick. Tim was smart and collected and he wasn’t easily influenced. In fact, he was infuriatingly stubborn. He wouldn’t do anything stupid. Even if he was hosting a party in an expensively furnished Manor after assuring everyone who might check on him that his parents were going to be home that evening.
Dick forced his foot to remain light on the pedal as he drove down the long, gravel driveway.
There’s no point destroying your car for this. Inhale. You just have to drive slow. Exhale. Gravel is sharp. Inhale. Driving any faster will ruin your tires. Exhale.
Meditative breathing and slow, slow, slower - he forced his foot further off the pedal - driving had quickly taken priority over most of his other to-dos. Of course, they were still second to priority number one.
Number one being the oh so eloquent task of figuring out what the fuck was going on.
He braked abruptly and the pastry box in the passenger seat jostled.
The gates.
The string of profanities that fell from his lips would’ve put Jason to shame.
Not locked, but closed.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
If he could avoid getting out of the car until he had to then that'd be great but he wasn’t entirely sure if any of the guests - his jaw set - would be sober enough to get the gates open. Then again, it had been a night of surprises - his teeth ground together - so he might as well try.
He looked past the iron bars to the beer bottles strewn across the lawn and the groups of people, some of which looked older than him (and didn’t that ring alarm bells, if there were any left to ring), before landing on a group of teenagers (who actually looked around Tim’s age, thankfully - or not, he really wasn’t sure) lounging across the driveway.
He flashed his headlights. There was some stumbling and startled swearing and Dick fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, exasperated.
The gate, he mouthed at a girl definitely not old enough to be drinking whatever was in her hand.
She squinted and shrugged before giggling with her friends and Dick sighed, deep and tired. This was not how his evening was supposed to go. Where were these kids’ parents? Where were Tim’s parents?
Two girls approached the gate and his eyes flickered to clock on his dash impatiently. At this rate, he’d be here all-
The gates opened and the girls waved and he gave them a tight-lipped smile as he drove through. A night of surprises after all.
As he got closer, the music pulsed so loud that he could feel his bones vibrate and the chatter became indistinguishable shouts. He rolled to a stop at the front of the house.
Calmly, he unclenched his fists and pressed his forehead to the steering wheel.
Tim was probably fine. No, he amended, Tim was definitely fine. Dick just needed a moment to steel himself. To prepare. He scrubbed a hand down his face and took a deep, whistling breath.
Okay.
Let’s go.
He yanked the keys from the ignition. Jumped out of the car. Slammed the door. Strode across the driveway-
‘Nice car, man!’
He hesitated mid-stride. It was a nice car and he was leaving it at the mercy of a bunch of drunk kids. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. Stop whining. There are more pressing issues.
Another deep breath.
He opened his eyes. Smiled tightly at the boy admiring his car. Turned his back. Climbed the steps. Reached to open the front door-
Before he could grasp the handle it swung open and Dick stumbled aside as a group of teenagers shoved past him. Their voices were loud and piercing and he winced a little at the way the door vibrated with the music.
He pushed into the house and-
He almost gagged. The smell was visceral. It burned his nostrils and it stuck to the back of his throat. It smelled like waking up, stomach-churning, t-shirt missing, on the cold, linoleum floor of someone else’s kitchen.
He blinked to reorient himself before weaving through the crowd of people in the foyer. The part of him that had hoped he’d spot Tim instantly had withered and died but he still scanned the crowd for a glimpse of his little brother’s face.
He knew that this kind of search would be futile. The Manor was too big. He could leave a room and Tim could enter it right aft-
Something wet and sticky splashed against his collar and he tensed. Slowly, the liquid dribbled down the back of his neck, under his shirt, and down his back.
He growled, shoulders stiff, muscle in his jaw jumping.
Deep, calming breaths. His eyes fluttered closed.
The leather jacket is waterproof. This is an old t-shirt anyway. Tim is more important.
He opened his eyes and continued his search with conviction.
‘Here,’ a girl shouted when he reached the staircase. She forced a drink into his hand.
‘You look sad.’
His jaw tightened and-
Deep breaths, he reminded himself. He untensed.
‘Do you know where Tim is?’ he yelled, pinching the fluorescent orange drink she’d handed him between two fingers in distaste.
‘Who?’ she swayed and stumbled and Dick caught her before she could fall down the rest of the steps.
‘Timothy Drake,’ he clarified, putting the drink down and guiding her away from the stairs.
She stared at him, eyes cloudy, forehead wrinkled, ‘I don’t know who that is.’
He pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, ‘okay.’
He turned to leave but a hand gripped his jacket.
‘Wait-’
He took a step closer to the girl, tilting his head in concern,
‘Are you alri-’
She doubled over. Vomit painted the wall and splattered against the hardwood floor. Dick jumped backward. This was not what he signed up for.
He grimaced, nose wrinkling as he stepped around the vomit. Carefully, he pulled the girl’s already soaked hair out of her face.
She choked and retched and Dick managed a strained, ‘it's okay,’ as he held her hair at arm’s length away from himself.
She heaved again and he shuddered. She couldn’t be older than sixteen and underage drinking was against the law and this was also really, really gross. He looked up at the ceiling and resisted the desire to stomp his feet like a child having a tantrum.
He could still feel the stickiness on the back of his neck and all he could smell was a cocktail of vomit and sweat. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep his voice soothing as he comforted the girl.
‘Did you smoke and drink? You’re not supposed to do that!’ A blonde girl appeared, admonishing the vomiting teen.
‘Do you know her?’ he shouted, wincing as she retched again.
‘Do I know her?’ the other girl laughed, ‘of course, I’ve known her for-’
‘Good,’ he cut her off, forcing the tangle of vomit-covered hair into her hands and stumbling away.
He needed to stay calm. Find Tim. And ask him to explain what had happened.
Because something had definitely happened. This wasn’t like Tim. Dick knew his little brother and he’d seen enough coming-of-age movies to recognize a cry for help when he saw one. He’d also seen enough to know that understanding always worked better than anger in situations like this. Always.
He headed into the kitchen. If that’s where the drinks were then maybe that’s where-
His foot landed in something sticky and the liquid quickly permeated the canvas of his shoe. It drenched his sock and seeped between his toes and oh- Dick was going to kill Tim.
Fuck being understanding.
Dick was going to grab Tim by the collar and dangle him from the roof of a ten-storey building until he cried.
He marched towards the phone balanced precariously on top of a speaker, screen aglow with Dick’s six missed calls (he’d stopped trying after that), and picked it up before it could vibrate onto the floor.
Carefully - hindered by the impossible task of finding space to put his feet amongst copious amounts of drink, trash, and what he really hoped weren’t condoms (in a fucking kitchen, really? ) - he climbed up onto the kitchen counter.
From this height, he could see everyone in the kitchen and out into the hall. No Tim.
He took a breath to steady himself before unplugging the phone.
The music stopped but the chatter persisted. Loud and incomprehensible. Dick pinched the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.
‘Alright. Alright-’ The talking died down a little and a couple of people turned to face him.
He sighed, exasperated, before reaching out and slamming the door to one of the kitchen cabinets open and shut hard enough that he heard whatever was inside of it shatter. Tim could deal with that.
There was some yelling, some flinching, some dramatic hands clamping over ears. Dick almost rolled his eyes. The room stilled.
‘Party’s over,’ he announced levelly, ‘I’m glad that you’ve all had fun but it’s time to get your friends and get out.’
There was some hushed whispering and a couple of scoffs and then-
‘Why the hell should we listen to you?’
Dick felt his face harden, he heard sharp breaths when his eyes flashed and, when he spoke, his voice was dangerous.
‘Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. I said get the fuck out.’
People moved then and it took a moment for Dick to unclench his fists. The skin of his palms stung from where his nails had embedded.
He ignored the muttering as people filtered out and slipped Tim’s phone into his pocket before stepping down from the counter. He didn’t need the height advantage. He still towered over most of the teenagers without it.
‘Has anyone seen Timothy Drake?’ He asked coolly, voice loud in the subdued quiet.
The room was almost half empty and all movement stopped at the sound of his voice. He couldn’t help the satisfaction that curled in his stomach.
‘He’s outside,’ a boy stammered nervously, ‘I think.’
Dick nodded his thanks, gesturing for everyone to continue packing and leaving before sidling out of the backdoor.
The backyard was emptier than the front and Dick’s heart swooped in relief when he spotted a dark head of hair and the back of a familiar t-shirt.
Tim was chatting animatedly to a group of people, his voice bright and his head pressed against the shoulder of a curly-haired boy that - thank god - actually looked his age.
Dick’s relief swiveled right back into annoyance when he strode towards Tim. Foot squelching in his shoe.
The group were surrounded by drinks. Empty bottles. Smashed glass. Cartons of cigarettes. Metal gas canisters.
Dick took a deep breath. It’s okay. They’re kids. Kids test boundaries. Even if those boundaries are the law-
Something fluttered and caught his eye. Paper. A little dropper bottle.
Dick’s precariously maintained calm snapped.
He yanked Tim backward, fingers digging into his shoulder.
‘Party’s over,’ he growled.
‘Dick?’ Tim sounded bemused. Dick ignored him.
‘It’s time to leave-’
‘Dick, what are you-’
‘Get your stuff and go,’ he tightened his grip on Tim’s arm in warning and the younger boy’s protests stilled, ‘ not that,’ he snarled, gesturing to the LSD, ‘leave that here.’
‘Who the hell even are you, man?’ the group looked bewildered.
‘Do you know how expensive that shit is?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Dick mused, voice deceptively soft, ‘I’m sure it’ll cost mommy and daddy a lot more to keep your night in jail out of the papers if I arrest you.’
Because that was the catch, wasn’t it? Jason’s whole don’t-sell-drugs-to-kids- thing didn’t work when the kids were rich enough to buy directly from the suppliers.
His words sat in the stunned silence and then there was some mumbling, a couple of reluctant apologies, a muttered ‘goodbye, Tim’. And the teenagers dispersed.
‘What the hell?’ Tim breathed after a moment, so quiet that Dick barely heard him over the pounding in his ears.
‘What have you taken?’ Dick’s demanded shakily.
‘What the actual hell ?’ Tim hissed again, louder this time.
Dick spun him around. His eyes scanned Tim’s face urgently.
‘What have you-’
‘Who do you think you-’
‘What the fuck have you taken, Tim?’ Dick’s voice sounded dangerous and Tim stiffened.
‘Nothing,’ he whispered.
Dick looked at him carefully. Pale skin. Flushed cheeks. Pupils blown. But… he seemed aware. Which was a good sign. Dick didn’t think he was sober enough to lie. And maybe it was Dick’s desperate desire to believe Tim swaying his judgment, but the younger boy just looked drunk.
Dick let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
Tim’s expression hardened just as Dick’s pinched with concern. Dick wasn’t supposed to be here tonight and anything could’ve happened-
Tim jerked backward, yanking his arm out of Dick’s hold.
‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ Tim snarled and Dick stumbled backward with the force of it.
‘Tim you’re-’
‘This is my house-’
‘-not sober right now-’
‘-and you come in here-’
‘-we can talk tomorrow-’
‘-and make everyone leave-’
‘Tim-’
‘-and threaten my friends-’
There was something hate-filled in Tim’s expression and, despite knowing that the younger boy was drunk and definitely-probably- hopefully didn’t mean it, it still made Dick’s heart race.
He lied, something in the back of his mind supplied, drowning out Tim’s furious shrieking. He said that his parents were going to be home and then he threw a party and- and you don’t know him. You don’t even know who your little brother is.
The small reassurance that Tim’s coherent, drink(but not drug)-fuelled yelling provided relaxed Dick enough for his annoyance to return full force. Frustration bubbled inside his chest, up his throat, to the tip of his tongue and it fell from his lips in a cold scoff.
‘Anyone pressuring you into drugs is not your friend, Tim.’
‘Oh my god,’ Tim laughed, condescending and incredulous. ‘No one was pressuring me, Dick. I don’t know what movies you’ve been watching but not all teenagers are drug pushers. You had no right to threaten them. You have no right to be here, actually.’
‘You’re lucky it was just a threat. Bruce would’ve-’
‘Lucky? I’m lucky? So what, Dick? You’ll arrest my friends? Will you arrest me too? Because apparently you think I’m a child-’
‘You’re underage,’ Dick yelled, furious, ‘you don’t even know these people. You’re a kid drinking and doing drugs surrounded by strangers. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you, huh? You want me to list a few? Because I sure as hell cycled through about a thousand different outcomes when I saw my baby brother’s house packed with enough booze to rival a Gotham nightclub-’
‘Again, with the doing drugs. How many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t do-’
‘Someone could’ve hurt you. You could’ve overdosed. Who knows what’s in those drinks? You could’ve ended up in hospital. Worse. What if someone had taken advantage of you? If someone had dragged you into one of the rooms and hurt you because you’re in a state - an absolute fucking state - if you’re gonna try and tell me you’d be able to stop them,’ Dick laughed scornfully, ‘I honestly think that any training you’ve had would be a joke right now.’
‘Well, isn’t that rich coming from you?’ Tim’s voice was low and vicious.
‘And what’s that supposed to-’
Tim barked a laugh, ‘you might like to pretend you’re some golden boy. But I loved you. I worshipped you. I saw your teenage rebellion all over the papers-’
‘Look, I know I wasn’t perfect-’
‘Oh, drop the act. I see through it. Jason doesn’t even believe it. There are photos to prove it wrong. Headlines all about Bruce Wayne’s young, reckless, drunken ward and-’
He doesn’t mean it, Dick’s brain defended, he’s just trying to hurt you.
Still, Dick’s mouth didn’t care as it hissed in retaliation,
‘Yes. And do you know what Bruce did to me after that? What Alfred did? What would your parents say?’
Why aren’t your parents here? He wanted to scream. Why did you lie to us? To me?
‘I don’t know, Dick,’ Tim’s voice inched closer to a screech than a yell, every other word cracking in a way that poked holes in Dick’s anger, ‘why don’t you tell me? You’ve probably seen them more than I have.’
Dick’s brain faltered.
What was that supposed to mean? His eyes narrowed, anger all but dissipating.
The lying. The party. The drinking. The way that Tim glowed when Dick so much as praised him. The photography. The nights in Crime Alley.
Dick knew that he shouldn’t ask. He knew that he shouldn’t pry while the kid could hardly think straight. But his mouth was open and the words were out before he could stop them.
‘What do you mean?’ he took a tentative step forward.
Tim’s demeanor had shifted. His fists were no longer clenched. His eyebrows no longer furrowed. Instead, he just slumped. Eyelashes wet. Skin clammy.
‘I- I just- I-’ Tim swayed and Dick reached out to steady him, ‘I didn’t want to be-’
‘Timbird,’ Dick’s concern doubled when he met the younger boy’s too-bright, too-wide eyes.
‘Dick, I- I just didn’t want to-’ Dick shifted to hold Tim up firmly, ‘I just didn’t want to be- I think- I think I’m gonna-’
That, and a weak, too-late shove, was all the warning that Dick received before Tim lurched forward. Vomit decorated Dick’s jacket and he had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from swearing. He clenched his eyelids and breathed slowly through his nose, trying to ignore the way that his own stomach churned at the smell.
‘Okay,’ he managed after a second, shaking his arm in an attempt to clean it a little.
Tim looked up, hair dripping sweat, lips trembling.
‘Let’s get you inside,’ Dick wrapped an arm around Tim’s waist and the younger boy melted into his side. Small body shaking with sobs.
‘I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to be alone,’ Tim cried into his jacket, ‘I-I’m always alone. And I couldn’t. And I didn’t want to bother you-’
So he decided to scare you to death instead, his brain snarked and Dick pulled Tim tighter to him as they staggered inside.
Tim was so small and so young and this was so, so stupid. So dangerous. So fucking dumb that Dick wanted to shout at him until he understood how unsafe this was. He wanted to yell until he was sure Tim would never do it again. Until the fear gripping his chest eased enough for him to breathe properly.
‘It’s alright,’ Dick shushed him, guiding him towards the stairs, ‘you’re okay. Don’t worry about it right now. We can talk in the morning.’
The house was mostly empty now and the few teens scattered around were either leaving or trying to magic their incoherent friends back to sobriety as if water and bread could work miracles. Dick almost groaned. Please don’t let anyone be seriously injured. No alcohol poisoning tonight. Please.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Tim babbled, ‘Dickie- Wing- I’m so sorry,’ he choked on a retch and Dick paused at the top of the stairs.
‘Hey, it’s okay,’ he rubbed his back gently, ‘you’re alright.’
‘I- I- Didn’t want to be alone. I- I’m sorry. It hurts,’ he retched again, clutching at his chest, ‘it hurts, Dick. Make it stop hurting. You’re supposed to make it stop hurting!’
Jesus Christ. The request cut Dick like a knife. Tim was a child. A kid. So small. So stupid. So fucking dangerous. Someone could’ve hurt him.
‘It’s okay, little one, c’mon,’ his voice trembled, ‘let’s get you to bed, huh?’
Tim jabbered apologies and Dick murmured comfort as he unlocked the bedroom door and sat Tim on the edge of the bed. Tim thankfully had the foresight to lock the bedroom doors but it didn’t change the fact that his room almost made downstairs look tidy.
Dick had to stumble over piles of paper, folders, and tangled cables to get a towel from the en-suite.
He wet it in the sink and returned to Tim - who was shivering, arms wrapped tightly around himself, thumbs rubbing into his skin in a method of self-soothing that made Dick’s heart ache - and cleaned his face before peeling away his sweat-drenched clothes and maneuvering him carefully under the covers.
‘I’m gonna get you some water, okay?’ Dick brushed Tim’s hair out of his eyes. Tim gave a small nod before yawning and settling back into the cushions.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered when Dick was a couple of steps away, eyes already fluttering closed.
‘Of course.’ Dick shut the door and made his way downstairs.
From what he could tell the house was finally empty and, when he turned on the tap, the sound of running water echoed between his ears.
He grabbed a glass and startled at his reflection in the kitchen window.
Fuck. He scrubbed a hand down his face. He looked like shit.
He filled the glass and pushed all of his hopeless insecurities about his appearance to the back of his mind. It had been a long night.
He left the kitchen and checked the other rooms for any stragglers before jogging back upstairs. The bedroom door creaked when he opened it and Tim’s eyes twitched under his lids.
Frowning, Dick set the glass down on the bedside table and pressed a hand to the younger boy’s forehead. He was warm but not hot. Still, his lips looked worryingly dry.
Dick wrestled with the idea of waking him and forcing him to drink as much water as he possibly could without vomiting before deciding against it.
There was no point in that now. It was too late. Perhaps the impending hangover would be enough to convince Tim to never drink again.
Dick felt his lips quirk upwards. Maybe there was a silver lining to this whole evening.
Dick shrugged out of his jacket and wrinkled his nose at the smell.
He’d had his share of drunk vomiting but he couldn’t remember a time that he’d actually puked on someone. Next to them? Sure. But on them? His smile widened a little.
Timmy was a sloppy drunk and Dick was going to tease him about his lack of self-control until he did something worse.
Dick gathered up Tim’s clothes from the floor and trudged back downstairs, shoving the armful of clothing into the washing machine.
He rested his elbows on the counter, buried his head in his hands, and untensed for what felt like the first time all night.
In the moment of stillness, all of his thoughts crashed into him like a freight train. It was as if they’d been put on pause in the midst of his panic and suddenly the floodgates had lifted. A burst of laughter escaped him.
Tim threw a party. Timmy actually threw a party. Fuck. Dick threw his head back laughing. Tim threw a party. And he destroyed his parent’s house. And he was kind of an asshole when he was drunk.
Dick’s smile twisted into a grimace as he thought over the argument. The hateful expression on his little brother’s face. His parents-
Dick took a deep breath and the smell of the laundry detergent grounded him.
Now wasn’t the time. They were going to have a long talk about it in the morning. Even if that talk ended with Dick dragging Tim to Wayne Manor and forcing Bruce to file for custody.
Not that it would take much forcing.
How did he miss it? Why hadn’t Tim come to him? Why hadn’t he noticed-
No. He cut himself off. Self-loathing could wait. There were things to do.
He turned and rubbed his temples, scanning the room - the booze-filled, grime-coated, utterly trashed room - with weary eyes. There was so much to do.
For the second time that night, he resisted the urge to whine like a toddler.
Instead, he allowed himself to take comfort in the knowledge that Tim would be suffering in the morning as he grabbed a garbage bag and started to clean.
He cleared the counters, soaked the couch cushions, cleaned the tables, vacuumed, swept, and mopped until his eyelids felt heavy and his motions syrupy.
He’d reached for the dish soap twice - and missed - when he finally slumped against the broom handle.
His blurry eyes found the clock blinking at him from the oven display. 3:54 am.
He gripped the handle tighter and let out a whistling breath. His vision darkened as he leaned forward and forward and forward- He jolted. 3:57 am.
Fuck. He stumbled to one of the kitchen chairs. Dropping the broom and tugging his legs up to his chest.
He could sleep for a bit.
He’d put Tim to bed at around midnight. The younger boy wouldn’t be awake for hours.
Dick’s head drooped into his knees.
He could catch a few hours of rest and still finish cleaning before Tim woke. Right?
The question was redundant because his body didn’t give him a choice.
The world faded.
Last night might have been a mistake.
Tim stood frozen on the stairs staring at Dick. He was curled up tightly in one of the uncomfortable kitchen chairs.
Yeah. Definitely a mistake.
Tim’s head felt like someone was stabbing at it through his eyes and his stomach rolled with every too-fast movement. He’d jolted awake earlier that morning, disorientated and drenched in sweat. In his dizzy haze, he’d barely managed to make it to the bathroom before he was emptying his stomach until his chest ached and his eyes watered.
It had taken close to half an hour - time spent pressing his face against the cold bathroom floor and lurching up to puke every so often - for him to work up the energy to go downstairs. He needed more water. And something, anything, to ease the pounding in his head.
Now, as he stood on the stairs and stared at Dick, he wondered if there was any aspirin in his parent’s bathroom cabinet. Even if there wasn’t, Tim was leaning towards the idea of going without. He would rather suffer than risk waking Dick.
Thinking hurt like being smacked repeatedly with a baseball bat but Tim couldn’t stop. Last night replayed over and over in his head and it made his throat tighten.
He knew that he’d worried Dick. He knew that he was wrong. He knew that he wasn’t going to do it again.
So he really didn’t need to hear it. Not right now.
He let his eyes wander the room, lingering on the cleaning supplies on the table and the washing machine whirring in the corner. His guilt doubled. It made it difficult to swallow.
Tim was willing to admit that perhaps this method of dealing with his parent’s sudden absence had been flawed - his head pulsed and he winced - okay, it had definitely been flawed.
But he’d tried everything. And no one had bothered to step in and help. No one had even noticed that his parents were never there. Either that or they just didn’t care.
Lately, that thought had been haunting him. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t shake it. What were the odds that a house full of detectives didn’t know that he lived alone? The thought made him want to scoff. It made him want to sob.
Every evening he spent alone, that thought spent it with him. It managed to worm its way into his mind and eat away at him. He’d spiral. He’d decide that everyone knew and they just thought that it was normal. That he was old enough to deal with it.
He’d agree with them. He was okay on his own. He was old enough to deal with it.
Except he wasn’t and he’d tried everything. Everything to make the house seem less empty on those weekends that he had to spend in it. When he couldn’t be at the Manor because no one had explicitly asked.
Being in his lonely house was better than being somewhere he wasn’t wanted. Well, they’d never said that. But he was unsure of his welcome. Unsure of how he belonged. But certain that he didn’t belong in the same way that Dick did. Or Jason. If he belonged like they did then someone would’ve asked him to stay.
A flicker of annoyance flared in his chest. Yes, last night was a mistake but no one could blame him for trying. He didn’t want to be left alone with his spiraling thoughts of self-pity. And this way he didn’t have to be.
Dick had no right to tell him that he couldn’t at least attempt to fill the empty void his parents left in his chest. Dick had no right to stop him. In fact, no one did.
They couldn’t just ignore his parents’ absence and then suddenly turn up when he tried to cope with it in a way that they took issue with. Everyone suddenly pays attention when it’s his physical health. He’s not useful if he’s not physically healthy.
Okay, that’s not fair, his brain rationalized, still hung up on how exhausted Dick looked, you could’ve said something. People aren’t mind readers.
He wasn’t a child. He wouldn’t admit weakness. If he was weak he couldn’t be Robin and if he wasn’t Robin… Well, he’d be condemned to spend every day alone in his empty Manor. He’d lose everything.
He let his eyes scan over Dick’s scrunched-up form for what felt like the thousandth time. The older boy’s face was pressed against his knees. He had dark circles beneath his eyes. His hair was messy and tangled.
Tim really wasn’t being fair. He’d help you if you asked, his brain continued, he helped you last night and-
Oh- Oh god.
Tim had thrown up all over him. Tim’s cheeks heated up and he shuddered.
That settled it.
There was no way that Tim was going to risk waking the older boy. Tim wasn’t going to face Dick until he had to.
He took a step backward. And another. And-
The step creaked. Dick jolted. Blue eyes met blue eyes. Tim froze.
There was a moment of stillness and Tim didn’t dare to breathe. The room was somehow too-hot and too-cold, it smelled of bleach and air-freshener and something sweet that Tim couldn’t quite place-
Dick sighed. Tim watched as he stood up. He walked over to the sink, filled a glass, and set it on the table. Beside it, he placed two little pills that made Tim’s chest constrict with longing.
Dick looked at him expectantly and Tim’s teeth found the cushion of his lip.
Perhaps this wasn’t all bad. This way, Tim was biting the bullet. Ripping off the bandaid. And he supposed that there was no time like the present.
Even if the present felt like having your head smashed against a wall repeatedly.
Slowly, he descended the stairs.
Taking the pills felt like trying to swallow lego and the lump in his throat throbbed painfully with every gulp of water. Still, he didn’t dare to protest. Not under Dick’s hard glare.
The silence was tense and awkward and it made Tim’s skin crawl. Dick wasn’t an uncomfortable person. In fact, he was accommodating to his own detriment and Tim shivered with the unease of it all.
‘What time is it?’ the older boy asked thickly, squeezing his eyes shut like it hurt to open them.
Tim swallowed.
‘4:30 am.’
Dick’s hands came up to rub his temples and he repeated the time under his breath like a curse. He opened his eyes.
‘You understand that-’
‘I know.’
‘You know?’ Dick raised his eyebrows.
Tim nodded and instantly regretted it. The world swayed.
‘You understand that we have to talk about this?’
Tim sipped at his water meekly.
‘Because this was wrong.’ Dick crossed his arms.
‘I know.’
‘It was unsafe.’
‘I know.’
‘It’s an unhealthy way to deal with your problems.’
‘I know.’
Part of Tim’s brain wondered if Dick was just reciting exactly what he’d been told when he was a rebellious teenager. Maybe Tim was just hearing Bruce’s words recycled. Or maybe even Alfred’s.
‘And it hurts other people.’
‘I’m sorry. I know.’ The lump in his throat doubled in size.
‘Not just me. But you’re hurting everyone. You’re hurting yourself.’
Tim’s annoyance flared again, sudden and angry.
‘I know, Dick, okay? I’m sorry,’ he sighed.
‘Not to mention the house was in a state. I just spent hours cleaning it.’
‘Leave it then,’ Tim snapped, looking away, ‘don’t do it. I never asked you to,’ his head throbbed and his stomach flipped, ‘please just leave me be.’
‘Leave you be, Tim? If I’d have left you last night you might just be having the worst morning of your life right now.’
He probably already was, Tim thought bitterly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
No one helps him. No one even cares that he’s suffering. And then, when he fixes it himself, he’s punished. No. Tim wasn’t having this.
He took a step back towards the stairs.
‘Where are you going?’ Dick demanded, voice hard.
‘Back to bed. My head hurts,’ he took another step and watched as Dick’s hands clenched and unclenched.
Perhaps Tim was testing his patience a little too much. You did throw up on him, a voice in the back of his mind reminded.
‘Okay,’ Dick sighed and - in an obvious feat of self-control - he reached for a sponge to continue cleaning, ‘we’ll talk in a few hours.’
Tim stood still for a moment. Watching as Dick cleaned the counter.
‘Why were you even here?’ he asked, quietly.
Dick put down the sponge and turned to face him, eyes weary.
‘I had things to do. I needed your case files. I bought you some pastries,’ he picked up the white cake box from off the counter and gestured with it, ‘why did you tell everyone that your parents were home this weekend?’
Of course. A scoff took Tim by surprise. Dick thought he’d been lying.
‘I wasn’t lying-’
‘I didn’t accuse you of-’
‘Yes. You just did.’
‘No, Tim,’ he replied levelly, ‘I’m just curious as to why you’d tell everyone that your parents were going to be home when they’re clearly not. I’d appreciate an honest answer. An actual reason that’s not because I wanted to throw a party and drink and do drugs and risk getting myself arrested. Because if you can’t give me a better answer I swear I’m going to kill you.’
Tim’s annoyance twisted into anger because Dick thought he was stupid. Dick thought that he was a child.
‘Dick,’ he breathed a laugh and pinched the bridge of his nose, ‘Dickie. If I was doing drugs-’ he held up a finger to silence the older boy, his voice hardening, ‘if I was doing drugs - which I wasn’t, by the way, because I’m not a total fucking moron - this kind of admonishment is a bit hypocritical coming from you, don’t you think?’
‘You can bring up my past all you like, Timmy. It doesn’t change the fact that-’
‘That’s a good point,’ Tim agreed, tone condescending, ‘but I think I made that one last night,’ Tim watched Dick’s jaw tighten, ‘this time I’m talking about the fact that I’m allowed to risk my life fighting criminals on the dangerous streets of Gotham. Getting stabbed. Getting shot at. Getting dosed with fear toxin week in, week fucking out. But I’m not allowed to do one - one - tab of LSD. That’s too dangerous.’
Dick stared at him. Grip tight on the cake box. Lips parted so that he could breathe deep. Tim could practically see his brain warring with whatever part of him wanted to yell.
Honestly, Tim couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t too sure that he’d be able to handle being thrown up all over either.
It didn’t change the fact that Tim was right.
He didn’t - and wouldn’t - do drugs. Still, he risked his life every night for the sake of the city so he wasn’t going to put up with Dick treating him like a child one moment and a vigilante the next.
‘You’re right,’ Dick conceded after a moment, voice deceptively calm, ‘no more Robin.’
Tim’s blood ran cold. No more Robin? No more Robin. The words echoed in his skull like a litany. No more Robin. His blood boiled.
‘Who do you think you are?’ he hissed, ‘you have no right to come in here and send my friends away. No right to tell me how to cope with my feelings. No right to take Robin away as if it’s yours to take. It’s mine. It belongs to me. I don’t know what kind of superiority complex you have going on. But you can’t treat me like this,’ Tim winced at how whiny that sounded and took a deep breath.
‘Who do you think you are to me?’ he sneered, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
Tim’s words sat in the silence and Dick just stared at him. Lips parted. Face eerily blank.
Tim’s stomach flopped. The longer they stood the more his anger dissipated leaving worry, guilt, and fear in its place.
He couldn’t lose Robin. Robin was all he had. He couldn’t lose Robin. He took a large gulp of air. Why wasn’t Dick talking?
There was a cold laugh and it took a second for Tim to reconcile the sound with the older boy. It was too menacing. Too deriding. Too hurt to be coming from Dick. But- But it was.
Tim watched wide-eyed, as the older boy continued to chuckle breathlessly. Dick shook his head in what might’ve been disbelief.
‘You know what? Fine,’ he released his grip on the cake box, letting it fall to the floor.
Cream and strawberries splattered across the tiles dramatically.
‘Fuck you, Tim,’ Dick breathed, ‘you might not think of me as your brother but I consider you mine. That gives me a right to be angry that you put yourself in danger-’
Tim’s heart raced in his ears. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. He hadn’t meant that.
He hadn’t meant that he didn’t think of Dick as a brother. He did think of him as a brother. He considered all of them family. That’s why he couldn’t lose Robin. He couldn’t lose them.
‘-are you even listening to me?’ Dick yelled, snapping Tim from his spiraling panic.
‘I wasn’t lying,’ Tim offered quietly, ‘my parents were supposed to be home.’
Tim wasn’t sure that Dick heard him as the older boy turned around and gripped the kitchen counter tightly.
‘Fuck,’ he growled to himself and Tim opened his mouth to apologize when Dick spun back around.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Expression stormy. Lips pressed into a thin line.
‘Fine,’ he said coolly, ‘don’t listen to me .’
Tim was stunned into silence. His mouth opening and closing while the words stayed trapped in his throat.
Dick put the phone on speaker and the sound of it ringing washed over Tim like resignation.
The younger boy’s shoulders slumped and his head pounded and now… Well, Bruce was going to ground him and Tim wouldn’t be seeing Robin, or the Cave, or his family, for at least two weeks if not indefinitely.
‘Who’s dead?’ A tinny voice sounded through the phone speaker and Tim’s head jerked up in surprise, ‘it’s five in the fucking morning so someone better be dead.’
‘Jason,’ Dick glared at Tim as if daring him to speak. The younger boy shrunk into himself instinctively.
'Why don’t you tell your little brother about the dangers of hard drugs?’
The other side of the call fell silent and then-
‘Ten minutes.’
The line went dead.
Dick didn’t look at Tim as he slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back towards the kitchen chair. He scraped it along the floor in a way that made Tim wince before curling up, knees pulled up to his chest, gaze facing away from the younger boy pointedly.
Tim followed suit. He sat in the chair to the side of him and crossed his legs. The position did nothing to stop his knees bouncing vigorously and he picked at his hands.
The aspirin was starting to set in and the nausea that currently twisted in his stomach had more to do with guilt than the hangover.
He really hadn’t meant it like that. Dick was his brother. He was.
Tim felt as if somehow his entire world had come crashing down in the space of twenty-four hours. Like he’d managed to ruin everything overnight.
His parents had left him. Nothing new there, his brain supplied. Dick hated him. Bruce was going to take Robin away.
Jason - his breathing stuttered - Jason was probably going to kill him.
Not literally but Tim almost wished that he would.
There was a muted sniff from his left and Tim’s head jerked up. He couldn’t see Dick’s face but he could see tears soaking into his jeans. The older boy’s hands shifted to wipe at his cheeks discreetly.
Fuck. Tim’s throat tightened. He felt like an asshole. His tummy tumbled and his mouth ran dry.
Dick was crying and it was Tim’s fault. Oh, Jason really was going to kill him. And he deserved it.
‘Dick,’ he whispered hoarsely, resisting the urge to bite at his nails.
‘I’m really sorry.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ Dick snapped, raising his head to glare at him with watery eyes, ‘this isn’t because of you. I’m just tired.’
Tim nodded quickly and looked away. He stared at the clock, feeling worse with every passing minute.
The guilt was eating at him - crawling up into his throat and strangling him - and he needed to do something to distract himself.
Actually, he needed to sleep. Or a coffee. Or something that would make his thoughts stop drifting away from him so that he could actually fucking think.
The deafening roar of a bike jolted Tim back to reality and his heart kicked into overdrive.
There was a tumbling sound. Some creaking. A door slamming. Footstep getting closer and closer and-
Jason appeared in the doorway. Arm resting against the door frame and chest heaving like he’d been running. He met Tim’s eyes. Blue. Not green. And he didn’t look too angry. Actually, he looked more concerned than-
Jason’s gaze flickered over to Dick’s blotchy cheeks and bloodshot eyes and his expression hardened. Tim looked down.
Shame colored his cheeks red and his teeth found the cushion of his lip.
Jason rounded the table and the wonderful, rich, soothing smell of coffee filled Tim’s nose.
He looked up again. Eyes zeroing in on the two Starbucks cups in Jason’s hands. He wet his lips involuntarily.
Jason caught the younger boy’s gaze and raised an eyebrow.
‘No,’ he forced a cup into Dick’s hand before leaning back against the counter. His eyes bored into Tim’s as he drank deeply from the other cup.
‘Rebellious teenagers don’t get coffee.’
Tim narrowed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. He hadn’t expected coffee. It didn’t change the fact that the two of them drinking it in front of him felt needlessly cruel.
Dick sipped at the cup absentmindedly and Tim thanked every deity he could think of that the older boy had stopped crying.
‘You okay, Dickie?’ Jason asked softly and Dick just breathed a scoff that sounded more like a cry.
He gestured vaguely to Tim and the youngest boy stiffened when Jason’s cold gaze settled on him.
‘You look like shit,’ Jason said levelly.
Dick snorted in surprise and Tim struggled to swallow the lump in his throat.
‘Thanks,’ he replied flatly.
Jason hummed in contemplation, setting his coffee down and wetting his lips.
‘I’m waiting,’ he prompted after a moment. Tim’s heart rate spiked.
‘I didn’t do any drugs,’ he blurted out, clamping his clammy palms together to keep himself from trembling, ‘it was some people from school but- but they’re good people. And the soccer team wanted to have a party and I have a big house so- So I invited everyone here. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset Dick.’
Jason’s expression didn’t change and Dick continued to sip at his coffee, staring straight ahead carefully. Tim felt his eyes prickle. He really, really hadn’t meant to upset anyone.
‘Well,’ Jason broke the silence, ‘you gonna make me drag it out of you or are you gonna make this easy and tell us what the fuck happened to make you do something like this?’ he paused, ‘Dickie throwing a party as an excuse to get shitfaced and wind up the old man? Maybe. You? No. I don’t think so.’
Jason nudged Dick’s shoulder good-naturedly and relief washed over Tim like a wave when he saw the older boy’s lips quirk upwards.
Thank god for Jason. Watching Dick cry had felt like someone was reaching into Tim’s chest, grabbing his heart and squeezing.
‘My parents extended their trip,’ he offered, shifting uncomfortably when Dick turned to look at him, gaze intense, ‘I didn’t want to be on my own.’
He tried to keep his voice casual but from the look on Dick’s face, he knew that he’d fallen short.
‘About that, how often do-’
‘I’ll look into it,’ Jason cut Dick off, voice sharp. There was something determined in the look the two of them shared. Tim swallowed.
‘Let’s get on with it,’ Jason sighed deeply and scrubbed a hand down his face, ‘where?’
Tim’s expression pinched in confusion. Where were his parents?
‘Monaco,’ the word came out like a question and Jason raised his eyebrows as if to ask if he was stupid.
Dick just breathed a laugh.
‘Here.’ Dick pulled a little dropper bottle out of his pocket and handed it over to the other boy.
Jason turned it over in his hands. Expression dark.
Tim fiddled with a loose thread on his sweatpants.
‘This- This isn’t even blotter paper. This is manufacturer's stuff. How diluted is this? Do you even know? Dealers don’t sell this shit. This-’ he shook his head, incredulous, ‘-this is expensive.’
‘Rich kids. Rich parents,’ Dick shrugged and Jason growled, eyes flashing as he pocketed the bottle.
‘I’ll add it to my to-do list,’ he muttered darkly.
‘Timmy,’ Dick’s voice was so soft that he couldn’t help but look up hopefully, ‘you can talk to us, y’know? I want to help. You said you’d seen the papers-’ Jason’s eyes narrowed at that but he didn’t say anything and Tim purposely didn’t look at him, ‘you know I’m not going to judge you.’
‘He’s right,’ Jason said after a moment.
Tim’s gaze darted over to him but he was staring intently at the ground, ‘if there’s anyone to go to for non-judgemental help it’s him. I do. Did,’ he swallowed nervously, ‘do. Still do.’
Dick half-smiled at that and he looked at Jason with so much fondness in his eyes that a lump formed in Tim’s throat.
‘I’m sorry,’ Tim said in earnest, ‘I really am. I- Just- You threatened Robin and-’
‘I’m not taking Robin away, Tim,’ Dick promised quietly, ‘you’re right. No one can take that from you. But you’re my brother and I want to know you,’ his voice was thick, ‘even if you don’t think of-’
‘I didn’t mean that,’ Tim interrupted desperately, heart racing, ‘I want you to be my brother. I do. I want that. I-’
‘Enough,’ Jason demanded, rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair,
‘Okay. Dick’s sorry for overreacting. Tim’s sorry for worrying you. He will not do it again,’ Jason fixed him a look, ‘I’m sorry that I almost had to hear your heart-to-heart. Jesus Christ. I get it. We’re brothers. Family. We’ll all try harder. Whatever,’ he took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.
‘Look. We might’ve chosen this family but you don’t get to pick and choose when you’re a part of it. This is a forever thing. No matter how much you fuck up. I’m proof of that. Are we done here?’
Tim’s eyes flickered between Jason and Dick and the look of certainty in their expressions made his heart swell. Brothers. Something that felt embarrassingly like awe unfurled in his chest.
Dick snickered. Jason scowled.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. It's just... that was poetic. Really emotional, actually. I think I’m tearing up-’
Jason shoved him playfully, ‘don’t talk back to me.’
When he turned to face Tim his eyes danced with amusement.
‘Here,’ he pushed the coffee forward and Tim gaped.
‘But you only brought two.’
‘I don’t like coffee, kid,’ Jason shrugged.
Tim wasted no time in drinking deeply. He moaned when the beautiful, amazing, miracle liquid touched his tongue and Jason snorted.
The tension in the room had lifted and it made Tim’s muscles melt in relief. Despite the dull ache in his head, he felt content.
‘Okay,’ Jason broke the silence, voice amused, ‘Tim, go take a shower. You smell rancid-’
‘Gee, you’re really laying on the compliments today-’
‘Dick, you too-’
Tim flushed, ‘sorry about that-’
‘Yeah. I’m totally gonna swap your sugar pot for salt-’
‘-I’ll clean this,’ Jason continued, looking at the pastries on the ground with a grimace.
‘You don’t have to,’ Tim protested quickly, ‘I’ll do-’
‘Don’t worry, Timmers,’ Jason cut him off, ‘you have a whole garden to clean tomorrow. Take whatever help you can get.’
Tim winced and Dick chuckled beside him.
‘Okay,’ Jason clicked his fingers, ‘get moving. I’ll cook something greasy for when you come back and then everyone is going to sleep because you both look like the living dead. I’d know.’
Tim grinned. Dick swiped at Jason. Jason dodged. Dick tried again, grinning tiredly and- Tim’s smile faltered.
‘Dick,’ he whispered hoarsely. The two boys turned to face him.
Tim took a hesitant step forward and Dick’s lips parted in surprise.
‘I’m so-’ Dick stood up and met him halfway, arm coming to wrap around him tightly. Tim clutched his waist in sheer relief, hands twisting into his shirt.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he repeated, warmth growing behind his eyes, ‘for all of it. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ Dick murmured into his hair, ‘you just scared me.’
‘I know. But I’m sorry that I made you cry. I feel- I-’
‘It’s okay-’
‘Do it again, baby bird and you’ll have me to deal with,’ Jason interrupted, voice sharp.
Dick laughed brightly, ‘and what will you do? Buy him a coffee and give him a stern talking to?’
‘You call me for help and then question my methods,’ one of Jason’s arms came to wrap around Dick and the other found Tim’s shoulder and he squeaked in surprise.
‘Did you just voluntarily join a hug?’ Tim managed, the shock in his voice unmistakable.
‘Dickie’s hand is literally wringing my collar, Timbo.’
Tim looked up and, sure enough, Dick’s grip was bordering on strangulation. The older boy looked more pleased than guilty but his expression was a mixture of the two nonetheless.
‘This is a group event,’ he hissed firmly and Tim snickered.
‘Again. You call me here. You question my methods. You torture me. This is why I don’t answer the phone,’ Jason joked but his voice was softer than usual. A thumb rubbed circles into Tim’s shoulder.
‘Brothers, huh?’ Dick murmured tentatively after a moment.
‘Apparently so,’ Jason agreed, and, for a second, he tightened his hold.
‘The drugs, baby bird,’ he said quietly, ‘never again. Please.’
Tim’s breath caught and he stuttered through an apology. Jason just shook his head.
‘No apologies. Just promise me. Never again.’
Tim nodded into Dick’s chest, hand coming up to squeeze Jason’s.
‘I promise.’
Jason exhaled loudly, squeezing back.
‘Good,’ he stated, voice light again, ‘because if you do I’ll make titans tower look like a vacation.’
‘Jesus Christ, Jason,’ Dick managed.
‘What?’ he replied innocently, ‘also if this lasts any longer I’m gonna throw up. You both smell really fucking disgusting.’
‘Please aim for Tim. He deserves it.’
‘Don’t. I swear I’ll react worse than Dick. And he threw strawberries and cream all over my kitchen floor.’
‘That was necessary-’
‘It was dramatic-’
‘Jay, if you’re gonna throw up on anyone then throw up on-’
‘Dick. Throw up on Dick. What’s one more?’
‘Or, I could not throw up at all. And you could let me go. Before you make me smell like a gross teenager.’
‘Nothing new there.’
‘Yeah, are you worried about competition? Don’t worry. You’re still the grossest.’
‘Fuck you, Tim.’
‘Fuck you, Jason!’
‘This is sweet. I love you both.’
‘Fuck you, Dick.’
‘Yeah. You're so soppy it's sickening. I think I’m actually gonna throw up.’
‘Good. Aim for Tim.’