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It was just another ordinary, noisy day at the White Collar office. Agents bustled back and forth with various folders full of paperwork in hand, phones rang in the background, and everyone was far too absorbed in their own duties to notice the teenager who stepped silently through the elevator doors.
The boy wore simple jeans and a red hoodie that was a bit too baggy. He looked completely lost in his own thoughts, trapped in a labyrinth inside his mind, shoulders hunched in an uncertain and anxious posture.
Diana was the first to notice the young man standing near the entrance, nervously looking around the large room while clutching the sleeves of his hoodie. She stopped her conversation with Peter instantly, discreetly gesturing toward the boy with a nod of her head. "Do you think he's lost?"
"He looks pretty lost to me," Peter confirmed, adjusting his posture and evaluating the boy.
The two exchanged a quick glance and walked over to the young man together.
Diana offered a gentle smile so as not to startle him. "Hi, good morning, my name is Diana and this is my friend Peter. Do you need help finding someone?"
Before the teenager could formulate an answer with his failing voice, the elevator chimed, and the metallic doors opened right behind him.
"Baby Bird?" Neal called out, his voice laced with immediate worry.
Dick had been undercover as Neal Caffrey for almost a year; it was definitely the break from his heavy patrol routine that he so desperately needed. Although the FBI paperwork was incredibly annoying, white-collar crimes were much calmer than his previous occupation in Gotham.
He was having a genuinely good day. The sun was shining brightly outside, illuminating the busy sidewalks of New York. Honestly, it was a great day to eat donuts.
Dick had stepped into the elevator holding a large box full of fresh donuts, pressing the button for the office floor. The last thing he expected to see when stepping out of that cab was his little brother, standing right in front of Diana and Peter.
"Baby Bird?" he called out worriedly, his heart skipping a beat. What could have happened that was grave enough for the boy to come all the way to New York and show up at his job in the middle of the day, even knowing full well that he was undercover on a secret mission?
Tim turned around upon hearing the familiar nickname, and seeing his older brother there, he couldn't contain himself. He took two quick steps, and his body crashed hard against Dick's. His arms wrapped around the older boy's neck, locking him in a desperate embrace as if his life depended on it.
Dick dropped the box to the floor that exact second, not caring in the least that the pastries tumbled out and scattered across the carpet. His brother was hugging him so tightly, trembling so hard, as if the ground beneath his feet was going to open up at any moment and swallow him whole. So, Dick just wrapped his arms right back around him, pressing him against his chest with both arms, offering all the support his body could give. "Everything is going to be okay."
Tim's breathing was deep, rapid, and erratic. In the silence, Dick felt the first warm tears begin to wet the fabric of his designer white shirt.
"Did something happen?" Dick asked in an urgent whisper, his older brother instincts screaming for answers, but Tim only shook his head slightly against his shoulder, gripping the fabric of Dick's jacket even tighter between his trembling fingers.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dick noticed Diana and Peter exchanging a confused and worried look. They were clearly wondering who this boy was and what he meant to "Neal Caffrey." The entire office seemed to have slowed down, with heads turning and whispers beginning to break out among the neighboring desks.
"Neal, how about taking him to the breakroom?" Diana offered softly, noticing the curious stares from the other agents around them and trying to give her partner an escape route.
Dick quickly considered his few options. He looked down, feeling the constant trembling in Tim's shoulders. His little brother seemed completely paralyzed, unable to take a single step if it meant breaking the hug or letting go for even a second. On the other hand, continuing to stand there, right in the middle of the central FBI bullpen, was the worst possible scenario for the crisis the younger boy was facing.
The older brother let out a low sigh, making a split-second decision. Without any warning, Dick scooped his arms under Tim's legs and back, lifting the teenager into his arms all at once.
The sudden movement caught Tim by surprise, causing him to let out a startled gasp and cling even tighter to Dick's neck so he wouldn't fall, burying his face completely in the crook of his brother's neck. Dick held him firmly against his chest, adjusting the boy's weight as if he weighed almost nothing, and began walking toward the more private corridor.
Peter took a step forward, hands on his hips and an expression full of questions that needed urgent answers. "Neal, hold on. Can you explain to me who—"
"Five minutes, Peter. I just need five minutes," Dick cut him off without breaking his stride. His voice carried none of Neal Caffrey's playful tone; it was firm, serious, and laced with an authority that made Agent Peter hesitate.
Diana placed a hand on Peter's arm, shaking her head in a silent plea to let the consultant go.
Dick pushed the breakroom door open with his shoulder and stepped into the small space, which was thankfully empty. He used his foot to close the door behind him, blocking out the noise of the bullpen and the curious stares. The silence of the room seemed to bring immediate relief.
He walked over to the corner couch and, with all the care in the world, sat down with Tim still in his lap. The boy showed no signs of letting go of Dick's jacket anytime soon; his hands seemed locked onto the fabric, and his breathing remained fast and uneven against the skin of the older boy's neck.
"Hey, buddy... we're out of there. We're alone now," Dick whispered, starting to rub his hand up and down Tim's back in a slow, rhythmic motion, trying to sync his brother's racing heartbeat with his own. "You're safe. What's going on in that little head of yours, hm? Talk to me, Timmy. What happened? Did someone hurt you?"
"Promise not to forget me," Tim begged in a whisper.
That made Dick freeze for a second. The hand caressing his brother's back paused mid-air, his heart skipping a beat. "Baby bird… why would I ever forget you?"
That seemed to be the wrong answer; Tim stared directly into his eyes, his face still swollen, and Dick noticed the dark bags under his brother's eyes. "Promise," Tim insisted again.
Dick swallowed whatever question his mind was formulating. He saw how the fog of insomnia and anxiety was consuming his brother's reasoning, turning internal fears into absolute certainties. He didn't need to understand what was going through Tim's head right now; he just needed to be the answer.
Pulling Tim right back into his arms, Dick held him tight against his chest, burying his fingers in the boy's messy hair.
"I promise," Dick said, his voice firm, pouring every ounce of conviction he possessed into those words. "I promise, Timmy. I swear on my life and on whatever you want. I will never, ever forget you. You are my brother, do you hear me? No matter what happens in Gotham, you are my little brother and nothing in the universe will change that."
They sat there, in a heavy silence, for what felt like hours. The only sound in the breakroom was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and Tim's breathing, which was gradually trying to find the same calm rhythm of Dick's chest. The older brother remained there, steady as a rock, serving as a shield between his little brother and the rest of the world, without loosening the hug for a single second.
Until, with his voice muffled against the fabric of Dick's shirt, Tim broke the silence. "Even if I'm useless?"
"My love for you isn't conditional on usefulness, you're my brother, Tim," Dick answered without hesitation. Hours of insomnia seemed to be dragging all of his brother's insecurities to the surface.
Those gentle words seemed to break the dam. More tears spilled from Tim's eyes, hot and heavy. Feeling a sudden wave of shame for being so vulnerable, he buried his face even deeper into his older brother's shoulder, trying to hide from the world. But the floodgates had opened, and his exhausted mind needed to let those thoughts out.
In a trembling, rushed whisper, he began to lay out his line of reasoning. "Cass and Stephanie are the only girls in the family, they're like a duo. Damian is Bruce's blood son and the youngest, they're like a duo. Everyone pretends they don't, but Jason is the favorite and everyone is terrified of losing him again, and you were the first, you were the one who inspired all of us, you started everything, and you and Jason are like a duo… Where do I fit in?"
Dick listened to it all in silence, feeling his heart ache with every word. It was painful to see how Tim's brilliant mind, which usually solved the world's most complex crimes with pure logic, could turn against itself like that when sleep-deprived. To Tim, everything needed a pattern to make sense.
"Timmy... look at me," Dick requested in his softest voice, pulling his brother back slightly so he couldn't look away. He cupped Tim's face with both hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that insisted on falling. "We're a family; every single one of us would drop everything and run from wherever we are if you needed help, and you would do the same. Families don't need to make sense, they just need to work. Ours works, it has its ups and downs." He thought about the family's numerous issues. "A lot of emphasis on the downs, but it works. As soon as I'm done here, the two of us are going to take some brother time, just you and me. What do you think?"
Tim looked at his brother, his heavy eyes blinking slowly as he processed the proposal. The suffocating weight he carried in his chest seemed to lift a little, replaced by the overwhelming fatigue that was finally taking its toll.
"Just... the two of us?" Tim asked, a thread of hope cutting through the fog of exhaustion.
"Just the two of us," Dick confirmed with a warm smile, pulling the younger boy back into the comfort of his chest and resuming his rocking. "No Gotham, no capes, no FBI. I promise. Now close your eyes, Baby Bird. I'm right here."
Yielding completely to the exhaustion and the safety of his older brother's arms, Tim finally relaxed his body, letting himself drift into a deep sleep for the first time in days.