Chapter Text
There was a time when Tim was sure it would be a cold day in hell before his family could all coexist peacefully with each other. Between Jason's past hatred Bruce, Jason and Damian's past hatred of Tim, and Dick’s often—though less so in recent months—contentious relationship with Bruce, what was happening now seemed nearly impossible.
Yet it was happening.
The first floor library was where they congregated. Jason had been the first occupant of the room, and Tim was mildly surprised that the other boy hadn’t left the second another person had breached his sanctuary. He suspected it was because it was the first floor library, not the third floor refuge the boy often preferred that Bruce still wasn’t allowed to enter.
Tim had entered the room in search for a book that, funnily enough, Jason had recommended to him. Well, not recommended , but he’d heard the other boy telling Alfred about it during a Sunday breakfast and his interest had been piqued.
Of course he couldn’t tell Jason that, so when he’d been asked his reason for entering the library, he’d made up something about needing a quiet place to work on a case, grateful that his laptop was tucked under his arm.
He hadn’t even realized he was holding it until then. Maybe Steph was right about his unhealthy addiction to working.
But he’d settled into the couch across from Jason’s favorite chair, where the boy in question was sitting, and opened the laptop.
They coexisted in silence for much longer than Tim would have expected Jason to tolerate his presence, and he’d just begun to relax into the couch when the door opened again. The face that peered through the now open door caused Tim’s entire body to tense right back up.
It wasn’t like there’d been any murder attempts from Damian recently, but once bitten, twice shy and all that.
The younger boy remained frozen in the doorway, eyes flitting back and forth between Tim and Jason, before he slipped quietly into the room—followed by Alfred and Titus, of course—and sat himself on the far end of the couch next to Tim’s. It didn’t escape his notice that this put the other boys right next to each other, directly across from Tim.
Tim refused to leave, even if he found it much harder to relax now that the only two people in this family that had tried to kill him were currently in the same room as him. At least it made it easy for him to keep them both in his line of sight.
Luckily, the door opened again soon, swinging silently on its hinges. Tim almost didn’t see Cass as she made her way over to Jason’s chair, perching on the arm. He couldn’t understand how she was comfortable, curled up and balanced on the arm of the chair, but he’d long since given up on understanding Cass’s physical abilities.
Jason gave no indication that he noticed her arrival other than a subtle tilt of his book in her direction. Damian glanced up and nodded once before returning to the sketchbook in his lap. Titus and Alfred didn’t move from where they were curled up together on the floor beneath Damian.
With the arrival of his sister, Tim could relax again. It’s not that he expected Jason and Damian to attack him—they hadn’t given any indication of a desire to in months, after all—but he knew they wouldn’t dare with Cass in the room.
After Cass joined them, the library remained undisturbed for a while, silent save for the click of Tim’s keyboard, the whisper of Damian’s pencil against paper, and the rustle of Jason’s book when he turned the pages.
But, to the surprise of absolutely no one , it was disturbed eventually. After all, where his siblings gather, Dick Grayson is sure to appear. The door opened again, and Tim barely spared a glance for his oldest brother’s look of quiet delight before returning his gaze to the laptop. Dick moved to enter the room, and Tim raised an eyebrow at his screen, surprised the man hadn’t immediately set off to find Duke and drag him into the library.
His thought was amended as Dick fully entered, one hand wrapped around the wrist of a disgruntled Duke. Sympathy pangs in Tim’s chest at the bags under Duke’s eyes. The younger boy had been run ragged over the past few days, taking on case after case until Bruce had noticed and forcibly shifted the burden to Kate, benching Duke until he’d rested enough for Bruce’s liking.
Duke was taking to it about as well as any of them ever took to getting benched, which was to say, terribly. Dick dragged him over to the couch that Tim sat on, settling him so he leaned up against the armrest opposite Tim and collapsing between them. Duke drew his legs up on the couch and curled against the armrest, arms resting on it as he placed his chin on them, eyes fluttering closed despite Duke’s best efforts.
The last arrival was the man who connected them all. Bruce opened the door, and Tim looked up just in time to catch the split-second of surprise on his face. The expression was one that looked foreign on Bruce’s face, and Tim’s lips twitched towards a smile at it. He glances over at Jason as Bruce freezes, gauging his response.
Jason and Bruce had mended their relationship significantly, but there was always a slight hesitation between them. Jason clenched his jaw, and Tim could practically hear his teeth grinding together, before the tension released and he almost imperceptibly tilted his head towards the couch Damian sat on.
It doesn’t matter how miniscule the motion was, Bruce noticed—he always notices—and moved quickly and quietly to occupy the couch his youngest child sat on. He peered over Damian’s shoulder, and Tim heard the quiet murmur as he asked questions about whatever Damian was drawing.
“Jay, this library was Bruce’s ‘welcome home’ gift for you, right?” Dick’s voice overpowers Bruce’s and draws the attention of everybody in the room. Dick Grayson has that effect on people.
“Yeah. Used to be an office, I think, but B figured I’d be less likely to run away if there were more libraries.” He snorts suddenly. “Course, he obviously didn’t care that much, because he renovated the one on the fourth floor to build her ,” he jerks his thumb at Cass, who sticks her tongue out in response. “Dance studio.”
Bruce rolls his eyes, but the fond smile on his lips indicates that this is a conversation he and Jason have had before, and that it won’t be the last time they have it either.
“All of the books from the fourth floor were moved to the first floor library, Jason, we’ve been over this.” Bruce rests an arm on the back of the couch behind Damian as he speaks, and everybody pretends not to notice when Damian tilts into his father’s side.
“I’m just saying, you remodeled the entire second-floor ballroom into Dickiebird’s gym. You’re not even trying to hide the favoritism, old man.”
Bruce rolls his eyes again as Dick preens. Tim feels someone grab his ankles from their spot on the couch, dragging them away from his body and causing his legs to straighten. Dick doesn’t even spare him a glance from where he’s stolen Tim’s feet, shrugging nonchalantly as he speaks.
“I was on a mission to take out the chandeliers in the foyer, but construction on the gym finished before I could get them all.”
“There’s only one chandelier in the foyer.” Tim’s foot jerks when Dick wiggles his finger against the sole.
“Exactly.”
Suddenly, Dick’s entire focus pivots and settles on Damian. The younger boy stills, the scratching of his pencil against paper halting, before he slowly glances up. Tim doesn’t even have enough time to wonder what they all meant by ‘welcome home gifts’ before the topic of conversation has shifted.
“What ice cream did you pick?” Dick’s question seems to appear from way out of left field to Tim, but everyone else in the room perks up. The small smile on Bruce’s face grows wider and warmer, and his arm tightens around Damian’s shoulders. Jason closes his book, thumb keeping his place, and Cass squeezes down onto the chair next to him. She doesn’t really fit, but she seems unbothered. Even Duke pays attention, his eyes dragging open at the question.
Before Damian can even open his mouth to respond, Jason is interrupting.
“And don’t say mint chocolate chip or something, that shit’s gross.”
Tim almost speaks out in defense of the flavor, but Damian beats him to it.
“Of course I had mint chocolate chip, Todd, it is the superior ice cream flavor.” He punctuates his statement with a dismissive ‘tt’, and crosses his arms across his chest.
“Bull-fucking-shit, Brat. Rocky road is number one,” Jason stands, leaving the chair completely to Cass, and places his hand right around eye level. “Then there’s literally every other flavor ,” the hand descends rapidly, stopping at his knees as Jason hunches over. “Then there’s literal dog shit ,” Bruce sighs as Jason leans down further to tap the floor before standing. “Then you have your precious toothpaste.”
Damian looks murderous, and the arm Bruce has wrapped around his shoulders tightens. Luckily, Duke interrupts the flavor debate to add his own opinion.
“I got lemon sherbet.” He shrugs, the cheek pressed against his shoulder making his head tilt. “I was in the suit, so I kinda felt like I had to stick to the whole ‘yellow’ theme, y’know?”
“Well I got cinnamon bun, so you all have fun with your sucky flavors, because we all know I win.” Dick throws an arm around Duke as he speaks, pulling the boy against his chest. Duke relaxes against him immediately, finding more comfort in his brother’s embrace than against the stiff arm of the couch.
“That’s Steph’s favorite flavor.” Tim is starting to feel left out of the conversation, even if he has no idea what they’re talking about, so he latches on to something he does know. But Dick only furrows his brow in confusion.
“I thought Steph got blueberry supreme?” His question makes Tim wrinkle his nose, but Bruce only sighs tiredly.
“She did.”
“Steph hates blueberries.” Tim says, now even more confused than he had been.
“She does.”
“Then why–?”
“She said she wanted the purple flavor, I told her it was blueberry, and she should get something she would enjoy and finish.” The remaining occupants of the room all begin to smile, the image of this conversation easily appearing in their minds. “She got a triple scoop on a cone and ate the whole thing in four minutes.” Laughter breaks out, but Bruce’s last statement is still easily heard by those meant to hear it. “Her mouth was still purple the next night during patrol.
When the laughter dies down, Tim can feel the conversation about to veer somewhere uncomfortable, but he can’t put his finger on why. The urge to flee strikes him, but his curiosity wins out, and so he remains seated, feet in Dick’s lap.
“Cassie, Timmy, what about you guys? We know Boring Bruce over there always gets vanilla, but what did you two have on your post-patrol ice cream trip?”
Cass points to herself, foot rising to rest on Jason’s shoulder. The other boy had, at some point in the conversation, sunk to the floor to lean up against the chair he had once occupied. Now he has Cass’s ankle hitting his ear as she bounces her knee.
“Funfetti.” Like always, Cass’s answer is short, sweet, and so wholly her that no one thinks to question it. Then all the attention is on Tim, and he starts to wish he’d given in to the urge to flee earlier.
“My favorite flavor is Superman,” over on the floor, Jason rolls his eyes. “But I don’t really know what you guys are talking about.” As much as he hates to admit when he doesn’t know something, Dick has been on his ass about letting the rest of the family help him sometimes, so he ventures out on a limb here.
He regrets it almost immediately.
“Your post-patrol ice cream trip?” Dick repeats his earlier statement like Tim just hadn’t heard him. At the continued blank look Tim can feel on his face, Dick’s eyes narrow slightly. “After your first solo patrol? When Bruce came out of the shadows and told you how good you’d done that night and took you for ice cream?”
Oh.
“Oh yeah!” Tim musters up all the enthusiasm he possibly can. He’s going to need it to get out of this unscathed. “Yeah I got superman ice cream that day.” He shakes his head, a bewildered expression on his face as he pretends to have forgotten.
“You’re lying.”
Out of everybody, Cass is the last person Tim expects to betray him. He hadn’t imagined he’d be able to convince her, but he hadn’t expected her to reveal his lies to everybody else either. The shock of the betrayal is likely what brings down Tim’s fragile facade.
“No I’m not.” But the seed of doubt has been planted, and Tim is in a room full of detectives. He looks around the room, gaze flitting anywhere but Bruce’s face. Damian looks confused, so does Jason. Duke is either getting better at detecting or has utilized his powers, because he seems understanding. Dick is glaring at Bruce, and Tim realizes he’d started to doubt the moment Tim had admitted his lack of knowledge.
“Yes.” It’s then that Tim finally focuses on the person now speaking. Bruce is staring back, and Tim nearly physically recoils at the amount of regret in his eyes. “You are.”
“Bruce, you didn’t take him out after his first solo patrol?” There’s an undercurrent in Dick’s voice that clearly says danger, and Tim grimaces. He makes to pull his legs back, to wrap his arms around them and shove his knees into his chin, but Dick’s grip on his ankles is iron.
“And now that I think about it, the kid was awfully quiet when we were talking about my library. What’d you get him when he moved in?” Jason’s voice surprises Tim. He’s not sure if the other boy is interjecting because he feels so strongly about the supposed injustice or because he’d never back down from an opportunity to argue with Bruce.
Tim hadn’t even realized that the ‘welcome home’ gift was a thing until like, five minutes ago, and now it’s being used against him.
“It’s no big deal, guys. It’s not the same, you know? He had bigger things to worry about than getting me ice cream.” Tim scoffs playfully, trying to lighten the mood.
He fails.
“There’s always bigger things, right Bruce? Something more important to worry about than the kid you’re throwing headfirst into danger, yeah?” Great, now Jason’s latched on to his favorite topic to start arguments with. Every opportunity Tim had to get out of this situation unscathed has evaporated.
Tim looks at Bruce, waiting for the man to defend himself, but Bruce is just staring back at him. There’s a rivet between his eyebrows and sadness in his eyes, and Tim wants to scream . He has to fix everything around here.
“I didn’t mean it like that, okay? It’s not like he wasn’t worried about my safety, it’s just–” He cuts himself off with a sigh, and manages to drag one leg out of Dick’s grip and into his own embrace. He shoots one last look at Bruce, and the man still looks like he’s mentally shouting hateful comments at himself, so Tim forges on. “I didn’t have the same Batman you guys did.”
Jason makes a buzzer sound. “Try again. The Demon was Robin for Dickie-bats, not you.”
Tim glares, frowning as Dick’s grip on his ankle tightens. “Shut up, Jason.” He manages to grit out through clenched teeth. Jason’s eyes flare in response, and Tim can’t tell if it’s in anger or surprise. “You have no idea what he was like when I first became Robin, because you weren’t there . And that was the issue .” Dick’s grip slackens as he realizes what Tim is getting at, and Tim takes the opportunity to free his other leg. With both legs pressed tightly against his chest, Tim feels less vulnerable. When no one else speaks up, Tim continues.
“You and Dick and Babs, you guys had Batman before , and everyone else had him after .” Nobody asks him what event ‘before’ and ‘after’ is referring to, but Jason’s hand is white knuckled where he grips his book, and Cass has lowered her foot from his shoulder, replacing it with her hand. “But I’m the only one who had him right after . I’m the only one who was there while he was mourning . He didn’t want a new Robin in the first place, everything I did reminded him of you . The only thing my ‘firsts’ accomplished was reminding him that he had a new Robin. Why would he celebrate that?” He sighs, shoulders rising to his ears as he sits up slightly. “You guys,” He gestures to the other occupants of the room, all of whom are still. “You were his kids, people he cared about, before you were his vigilantes. I was the annoying kid next door who’d stolen his dead son’s suit and forced my way into his place. Bruce liked all of you, he tolerated me.”
Tim almost feels guilty saying all of this, he knows it paints Bruce in an unfavorable light, but Tim had never held any of his actions back then against the man. Bruce cares about him now , and that’s really all that matters.
It doesn’t seem like the others feel the same way. Jason stands, slowly, and places his book on the table. Then he turns and stalks out of the room. All things considered, that’s the best possible response to Tim mentioning his death that many times in such a short amount of time. Jason can make jokes all he wants, everyone else is on ice of varying thickness depending on the person and the day.
Tim’s ice was pretty thick today, apparently, which he counts himself lucky for.
“Tim–” Duke is the one who speaks, and there’s too much sympathy in his voice for Tim to take. He stands, already shaking his head, and grabs his laptop. Dick makes an aborted motion towards him, like he wants to grab Tim’s arm, but he holds himself back.
“It’s fine, I’m fine, okay?” Tim looks at Bruce, who he’s pretty sure hasn’t even blinked this whole time, and makes his best attempt at a smile. “I understood it then, and I understand it now. Besides, you’re not–you’re not like that anymore, so I–I’m fine.” He turns and heads for the door before any of them can see the tears that are threatening to well in his eyes. As he passes Cass, he glances down at her. There’s nothing but understanding in her eyes, and any anger he may have held at her betrayal earlier disappears.
Once he’s outside the library and the door is shut firmly behind him, he freezes when he spots Jason leaned up against the wall by the door, arms crossed and expression stormy. Tim’s mouth opens and closes for a moment before he can get any words out of it.
“Sorry,” he clears his throat. “For, for all of that.” He gestures towards the library and turns to head to his room.
“Jesus, kid. The old man really fucked you up while I was dead, didn’t he?” Jason lifts his hand, and Tim notices the cigarette he holds between his fingers. He must really be in a mood if he’s willing to risk the wrath of Alfred for smoking in the manor.
“Yeah, whatever, Jason.” Tim scoffs and rolls his eyes, resuming his trek to the blissful solitude of his room. At least in there, he doesn’t have to see the pity in everybody’s eyes.