Chapter Text
Timmy squirms, eyes closed with residual sleepiness. He shifts again when he’s unable to dislodge his arms from the hold they’re in. He whines, a pitiful sound, wriggling harder when his legs too seem to be entrapped.
“Oh darlin’, it’s okay. I'm here, I’ve got you,” a gentle voice coos at him, cadence half a lullaby. Just the sound of it helps ease the worst of Timmy’s restlessness. A hand begins carding through his hair and Timmy leans into the touch unabashedly, too tired to bother with embarrassment. “It’s still early, baby boy, you can go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”
Timmy lets out an exhausted sigh that immediately turns into a big yawn. The person touching him so kindly laughs, sounding more akin to wind chimes than to a chuckle, “Sleepy baby. You can rest again. I’ve got you, I’ll take care of everything.” Timmy wriggles a bit, trying to get comfortable again. The person must read his mind because there’s a shift of the mattress and then he’s being scooped up.
He whimpers a bit before he’s settled comfortably against their chest. Inexplicably, with his head pillowed where the heartbeat rings loudest, he can tell that it’s Jason. His big brother, holding him, kissing him on the head, and promising that it’s okay to sleep a little longer. Even if his mouth didn’t feel all fuzzy with disuse, he wouldn’t complain anyway. He nuzzles into the caregiver’s chest, a pleased mewl escaping him when Jason begins patting his bottom soothingly. The rhythmic patting is much more comforting than it has any right to be and he finds himself drifting off even before the pacifier is being slipped back into his mouth.
/
Timmy wakes up slowly, a lazy coming of consciousness. He blinks his eyes open a few times just to close them again, not quite ready to get up. This time when he squirms he recognizes the feel of the swaddle. The tight blanket feels nothing short of a firm embrace. Comforting in its snugness, providing a security he didn’t realize he craved. He settles back into the bed, not desperate enough for a stretch when he’s still so cozy.
He opens his eyes once again after a few moments, peering around the room. It’s then that he realizes that Jason told the truth, he really didn’t leave him. He’s sitting up in bed, right beside him, typing away on his phone. Something wells up in him then, squeezing its way between his ribs and his lungs. He doesn’t have time to worry about how much empty space is left inside him to sacrifice when the caregiver notices him staring.
A broad smile breaks out across his face, “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”
Timmy blinks up at him, unable to help his own smile at seeing the whole-hearted joy radiating towards him. He grins around the pacifier bobbing in his mouth, watching in awe at the way Jason only lights up more. He doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like that before. As if Timmy could be someone worthy of such abundant adoration. He didn’t know Jason felt such a capacity for the likes of him, but now that he sees the potential of even more beaming smiles and tender touches, he never wants it to stop. He doesn’t know how he’s been almost-family with Jason for this long without knowing the depth of his affection.
“Looks like you did, huh?” Timmy doesn’t remember what he asked but he doesn’t get in trouble for the forgetfulness. “Dickie is making breakfast now. Let’s get you changed and then we can get some yummy food in your belly.”
Timmy offers no protest, allowing the caregiver to move him as he pleases. He doesn’t have the words to express himself even if he did want to argue against his plan. It’s as if his entire vocabulary has trapped itself under his tongue, behind his teeth. He’s almost surprised that his mouth hasn’t swollen up with all of the things he can’t say. All that’s left are baby babbles and little gurgles when his face is caressed just so.
Jason is ever so gentle as he unwraps him from the hug of the blankie. Timmy yawns, stretching his arms out when they’re free to do so. Jason catches his hand in a gentle hold, kissing him on the knuckles before blowing a raspberry on his palm. Timmy giggles so hard that his paci falls right out of his mouth. He hardly has a moment to whine for the lost soother before Jason is grabbing his other hand and pressing a loud mwah of a kiss on it.
“Does the baby like kisses?” Jason says, smiling so wide that Timmy can see nearly all his teeth. Timmy can hardly comprehend the happiness in which he looks at him with. Not even his mommy ever greeted him with such enthusiasm. He pushes away the ever present sand timer in the back of his mind, threatening to drown him in the graininess of passing time, and instead lets Jason continue unwrapping the swaddle.
A kiss is pressed to his belly when exposed, making him squirm with an excited squeal. He wriggles, trying to flip over and protect his tummy from more ticklish affection when Jason finally removes the entire blanket. Once he’s free he begins crawling forward, not actually intending to escape but more excited to get a chance to move his body. He can’t recall the last time he woke up with so much energy and he’s eager to take advantage. He barely even has a headache, a rarity of its own.
He’s caught around the waist before he can go tumbling off the edge of the bed. He’s not sure that he’d be able to brace his fall when his brain is a blur of static and pretty colors. It’s not a problem though, not when Jason is holding him like he’s something precious. “Got ya!” The caregiver calls out, pulling him into his lap. “C’mon, you need a fresh diapie.”
Timmy didn’t even realize he was wet until he’s being laid out on the plastic changing mat. He only gets to fuss for a moment before the pacifier is being pressed back into his mouth. He huffs, suckling idly on the soother while Jason wipes and applies a generous helping of rash cream. He’s fastened into a new fluffy diaper and his rash already feels less stingy-burn-owie than normal. He bets that the bleeding has even gotten better by now.
While he’s distracted playing with the paci clip still attached to his pajama shirt, Jason grabs a pile of clothes that had been sitting upon the nightstand. Timmy can’t recall even owning clothing so snuggly looking, let alone leaving them folded and ready for the morning. Jason doesn’t seem bothered by it so Timmy doesn’t know why he was stressing, not when his caregiver looks so happy.
Jason dresses him easily, putting him in a soft yellow onesie. He pokes a finger at the ducky picture on the front, mumbling something that was meant to be a quack quack but the words don’t want to enunciate. Jason even slips the matching pants on him, patterned with various little duckies. They’re just as cozy as they looked, the fabric gentle on his skin, though the pants do little to hide the puff of his diaper.
The pacifier is clipped onto his new outfit and he’s scooped right back up into his big brother’s arms. Jason bounces him a bit, “Hungry, darlin’? I bet Dickie made some warm milk for you. Does that sound good?”
He gives a sort of half-nod, much more interested in cuddling the older boy. Jason doesn’t seem to mind his silence, carrying him into the attached bathroom. With Timmy braced against his hip, he makes easy work of throwing away the soiled diaper and putting away the wipe container and cream.
“I’m just gonna sit you down for a minute while I wash hands, okay? Can you sit safely on the counter? I won’t be more than a foot away the whole time.”
Timmy knows he’s supposed to respond but he can’t think of anything past Jason’s leaving, he’s leaving him.
He can’t help his desperate wail, clinging to the caregiver the same way he used to clutch at his mommy before she left for one of her business trips. She always scolded him for the sensitivity, saying that if he insisted on being such a crybaby that he’d grow up and present as a little. The most dishonorable of dynamics. He just didn’t think that she had been telling the truth.
“Oh sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere. I just have yucky hands from changing your diapie. One minute to wash and then we can cuddle again, okay? Just one minute,” Jason soothes. He’s so much more patient than his parents ever could have been, rubbing his back and shushing his whines even as the tears well up. Eventually though, Timmy catches his breathe enough for Jason to set him atop the counter. He stays pressed against the edge, ensuring that if Timmy tips forward that his body will be there to block him from collapsing to the floor.
Timmy sniffles, scooching as close to Jason as he can. He looks around the bathroom, and though he feels nearly as rotten as he had the day prior, he doesn’t see any of the evidence of his complete breakdown. There’s no more throw up or pee on the floor, no pills scattered about.
Oh god, his pills.
He doesn’t know what Jason and Dick did with them. He had been so beside himself last night that he hadn’t even thought to keep them hidden. He didn’t even ask, and now the most he can do is whimper around his pacifier. Jason doesn’t know why he’s whining, simply cooing at his pitiful display and finishing up washing.
Jason keeps his word. As soon as his hands are dried off he’s pulling him into his arms and holding him close. Timmy snuggles into his chest, sucking his paci so harshly that the sound is obnoxiously audible.
Timmy wants his words back. He doesn’t know how else to ask. How to get Jason to understand. He’s not supposed to be so puny, so utterly pathetic, and yet he doesn’t know how else to be. It’s ingrained in his genes and no matter how painfully he might bite himself he’ll never be able to rip it out of his DNA. He would know, he’s tried plenty enough.
Jason bounces him as he walks, whispering plentiful reassurances that he's safe, his caregiver isn’t going anywhere, he can be as small as he needs to be.
Timmy hasn’t figured out how to ask for his suppressants back before they’re entering the kitchen. He can’t even find the words to ask where they are, or if god forbid they were thrown away. His dad might actually murder him if he had lost the entire bottle. He had just gotten a restock too, needing twice the ‘recommended’ amount just to stay somewhat rational and coherent when the incessant fuzziness threatens to overtake.
They pass the threshold, revealing his oldest brother standing before a whole array of pancakes. “Hey there, cutie pie!” Dick greets as soon as he sees him. Timmy squirms a bit in Jason’s arms, not actually wanting to be put down but just a bit overwhelmed by all of the excitement. He doesn’t know what to do with all the bubbly energy around him. “I didn’t know what you’d feel up for so I made a few different flavors. We have blueberry, banana nut, chocolate chip-”
His sudden eagerness must be visibly noticeable because Dick laughs, not a mean sound, “Okay, we can do chocolate chip, lovely.” He turns his attention to his fellow caregiver then, “Alfred already went out and bought some stuff to get us through the first few days so there’s a highchair and a bib ready in the dining room, Jay.”
“That must have been an early trip,” Jason says. Even this small, Timmy knows that there’s something he’s missing. But they don’t take the time to explain the unsaid. Always leaving him behind, one way or another.
“As soon as the store opened. Anything for the baby.”
They move forward, carrying Timmy along for the ride. He’s still held in Jason’s arms and yet he feels two steps behind. There is indeed a high chair placed at the table, open and ready for him. There’s teddy bears decorating the seat and he can’t help but miss his hidden stuffie. Somehow he managed to hide his little friend better than the meds necessary to keep him stable. His parents would be so disappointed.
Jason straps him in and places the tray while Dick sets the food out. A bottle is placed onto the tray while Jason sits down at the closet chair, beginning to cut the pancake into bite sized pieces. It’s all happening so quickly that his sluggish brain can hardly keep up. Timmy had been a smart kid, and yet with his little brain he’s nothing more than a cranky baby. Littlespace isn’t like a second childhood because he only seems to get dumber. He’ll never grow past this without his suppressants.
But he is awfully hungry.
A bottle is placed on his tray and he hardly hesitates before spitting out his pacifier, letting it dangle from the clip. He replaces it with the teat of the bottle, immediately being met with a warm mouthful of sweet milk. He hums around the yummy taste, vaguely watching Dick begin cutting up a plate of strawberries. It doesn’t taste the same as it had the night prior but perhaps it’s a different kind of formula. Either way it helps his belly feel all warm and full.
He’s about a third of the way through his milk when the food is placed upon the tray. He gets the pancake and strawberries but no fork to eat it with. “There you go, honey. Feel free to eat up.”
Timmy only hesitates for a moment before his tummy is too demanding and he uses his hand to take a bite of the pancake, chocolate melting on his tongue. He bounces in his seat at the yummy taste as he shoves another few pieces in his mouth, his cheeks puffing up not too dissimilar to a chipmunk. The caregivers must agree because they both laugh, though it doesn’t seem as if they’re making fun of him, and help him take a more manageable bite. Jason uses his own fork to feed Timmy a reasonably sized bite. Timmy hums around the mouthful, opening his mouth like a baby bird ready to be fed.
The rest of breakfast goes as smoothly as it can. His belly feeling heavy but not sick.
Dick cleans him up with a baby wipe while Jason gets a start on the dishes. He doesn’t have the chance to worry about potential loneliness because he’s brought along into the kitchen. He’s not left behind. Jason even smiles at him, as if he could have missed him in their brief moments apart.
“Want to see what else Alfred got you?”
Without hunger as a distraction, it finally sets in that they told on him. They tattled.
Less than twenty-four hours and half of the family already knows. They didn’t even let him know that they had planned to tell Alfred. Big Tim knew that this would happen and yet the second he was shown a gentle touch he rolled over like a pathetic dog. Eager to please no matter how many times you step on its tail.
Everything seems to sharpen, like a camera lens focusing. The problem is, he can believe just how quickly he had succumbed to all of the attention. His parents knew that this would happen. Give him a taste of his headspace and he turns into an all-consuming beast. Needy for what’s not his to take.
Tim was never meant to be a little.
No one was ever supposed to know that he presented wrong. Not necessarily the biggest Drake family secret, but definitely the most humiliating one.
He looks down at his infantile attire and is acutely aware of just how displeased his dad would be. A small fortune spent on suppressants just for Tim to throw it all away with one pathetic bout of sickness. He could have lied. He could have pushed through. They would have understood if he had fallen ill. It would have been explainable, fixable. And yet Tim was greedy. He let himself be caught, as if it was his secret to share.
His parents will never forgive him.
Tim pulls the pacifier from his mouth, knowing he that doesn’t deserve the comfort. He shakes his head, forcing the words out even when his body hasn’t caught up to the realization. “Nuh uh,” he whines, sounding much too babyish to be convincing.
“No?” Dick hums, teasing and definitely not believing that Tim is any bigger than he is. “Well I think he picked out some really fun toys. It’ll be here for whenever you’re ready.”
He can’t give in so easily. He won’t. Tim will not allow years of bearing the loneliest sort of sickness he’s ever known to have been for nothing all because of one night of undeserved comfort.
This time when he squirms, he’s disappointed when Dick adjusts his hold, keeping him steady. “Down,” Tim whimpers, sounding much too small for someone meant to be big. “Down, please.”
Both caregivers look at him, scrutinizing, only succeeding in increasing the rapidly reddening of his cheeks. Even so, after a moment of humiliating staring, he’s placed on his feet. He never realized just how vast the difference in height between him and his brothers was until now.
Though, he supposes that they won’t be much of brothers anymore when he’s sent back to Drake Manor. There won’t be any reason to keep him now. A little can’t be Red Robin and vigilantes have no room for a little at home. Tim might never be big enough for his parents, but at least he had been able to play pretend with the Waynes. There’s not enough pills in the world that could fix this now.
He might not have his suppressants but Tim knows how to get bigger.
He doesn’t allow hesitation, pressing his wrist between his teeth and biting down as hard as he can bear. Both caregivers lurch forward, “No, darlin’, stop,” Jason scolds at the same time Dick voices his own protest.
Tim pulls away from their grabby hands, chomping again when one bite isn’t enough to erase the smallness from his mind. He manages one more good chomp before his hand is pulled out of his mouth. He whines, high and loud and far too little for his tactic to have even been worth it.
“We don’t hurt ourselves, baby.”
But that’s not right. It’s the only way to make it better. Without his suppressants he’ll never be able to even explain why, let alone show them.
Timmy wishes that all the softness and snuggles didn’t have to take his words away.
Both caregivers are talking to him, whispering honey-coated lies about how he’s okay, they’ll take care of everything. But they won’t fix it, they can’t without the pills.
“Please,” he whimpers, “Please, no, no,” he’s trying so hard to remember. Tim knows the words he wants to say, he can string all the sentences together in his head but as soon as he opens his mouth it’s as if they get all jumbled, like yarn meant to become something tangible only to end up tangled along the way. “Mine,” he mewls. “My- mine,” is what comes out, as if it makes any sense. Even like this, he’s not dumb enough to miss how confused both caregivers are.
Jason rubs at the owies on his arm, as if his gentle touch could heal him. He doesn’t let himself lean into the comfort, knowing that if he gives into his blubbering headspace that he might not be able to crawl back out of it again. He tries to pull out of Jason’s grasp, knowing just how easily a caregiver's snuggles could pull him under again. Jason doesn’t let go, despite all of his pitiful whines and whimpers.
Jason sits down on the floor, fully pulling Timmy into his lap. He begins rocking him back and forth, shushing the sobs as they come. Timmy isn’t sure how long he cries for before he finds the word he needs. “Pills,” he finally gasps, “Mine, my meds, please.” He gnaws on his lip when he can’t get ahold of his wrist again, the caregiver holding his hands down, needing the pain to grind the words out, “Make it better, please. Mine, please, please.”
“Timmy,” Jason breathes out, and he can only sob in response, knowing the answer even before he says it. “We can’t give you the suppressants back. I’m sorry, we can’t give you something that makes you sick.”
Dick pipes up before Timmy can blubber out any more pleas. “They were hurting you. The only meds we can give you are to flush the suppressants out of your system.”
“No!” Timmy wails. “No, no, pluh- please, please no.” Even the minimal vocabulary he has left fizzles out, turning into incoherent babbles the more distressed he gets. He wails, babyish and small, unable to be soothed by rocking and humming when it’s his meds that he needs. He squirms, body unable to decide if it wants to wriggle closer to the caregiver or out of his hold completely.
Dick settles down beside them, pressing against his brother’s side and reaching over to spread his own natural comfort. There's hands in his hair, caressing his face, rubbing his back, patting his bottom, anything that they can think of to help him catch his breath. And he hates how soothing it is, how his body instinctively needs this. The fight oozes out of him with the worsening of his cries.
By the time he’s realized just how easily they could have put the next dose of anti-suppressant into his milk, he’s already gone.