Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tim shouldn’t have gone out on patrol tonight, he should’ve slept off the floaty feeling that even his second cup of coffee couldn’t fix. He should have stayed at his apartment on the edge of the city. He should have asked for the night off. 

But instead he found himself drawn to the Batcave, drawn to the promise of being around people, of being around his brothers, of being near Bruce and Alfred. 

He stood in his small kitchen, eyes half lidded, the freezer ajar. Tim loosely held an ice cube, willing the chill from it to ground him back into his body. 

He pulled an all-nighter the evening before, but was able to catch a nap at his apartment between working on cases and typing up the new Wayne Enterprises budget proposal. He woke up feeling off, despite the rest. 

Tim huffed out a breath, his hands shaking slightly and his vision off. It was like he was looking through a dirty window. His chest felt tight. 

This feeling was familiar. Though it was certainly less frequent than when he’d lived with his parents. Back then he’d spent day after day alone in that house, his body full of a consuming shaky loneliness. 

Over the years Tim learned to recognize when he was having an off day. He picked up both unhealthy and healthy coping mechanisms. But he’d like to think that he leaned more towards the healthy ones these days. 

Which is why when sleeping off the feeling wasn't an option, seeing as he woke up feeling anxious, Tim was proud of himself for choosing to be around people instead of alone in his apartment. 

Half the time he didn’t know why he felt the way he did. He knew that some of it was the lingering effect of living alone throughout his entire childhood. And there was no doubt that certain things he experienced as a vigilante were traumatic. But he also knew all the bells and whistles of therapy. Of course he did, he was a Bat and a Teen Titan. 

All of the Bats were versed in dealing with an emotionally repressed Batman. Growing up with him, every single one of his Robins, Batgirls, and other heroes/children, had at one point or another rebelled against his refusal to grow. 

Most of the heroes he knew, including himself, had to see Dinah (or some other superhero approved therapist) at one time or another. And there was nothing wrong with that. Well there was something wrong with the fact that his parents had left him alone for so long, and even that Bruce- when Tim was still just a child- had let him hold Batman together. But he’d come to terms with both of those things. 

He missed his mother. Janet Drake had never been the most selfless person, let alone mother. She chose herself for most of her life, she chose her own happiness. Tim wished that her happiness could have been fulfilled by, and included, himself more than it did, but it was what it was. Janet found joy in unearthing ancient artifacts, but beyond that Tim didn’t know her very well. 

He knew that she still loved and cared for him, no matter how little of herself she gave to him. He would always hold her rare smiles and attention given close to his heart. 

The computer screen in front of him shone bright and blurry. His fingers felt like they were submerged in cold water, slow and uncoordinated over his computer keys. 

Tim paused in his typing, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing them roughly. He blinked several times, willing his vision and senses to return to normal. He shut his laptop for the time being, leaning back against his couch, head tilted back towards the ceiling of his apartment's living room. 

In spite of the alone feeling that sometimes filled this place, he liked his apartment. It was comfortably furnished and held an assortment of random gadgets that Tim liked to work on, for both himself, the Bats, and the Titans. 

His apartment was also littered with his friends' things. Kon’s sweatshirt hung loosely across Tim’s shoulders, a fidget toy of Bart’s on his coffee table, Cassie’s hairbrush left in his bathroom, and many more personal items dotted his home and filled it with warmth. 

He willed his racing heart to slow, and the churning in his chest to settle. 

Jack Drake was still living, but their relationship, like Janets had been, was distant. Beyond that, Tim’s relationship with his dad was strained.

Jack was a stubborn man, and that stubbornness and refusal to be wrong manifested itself into either distance or anger. He was also a man of high society, so being wrong wasn’t something he did. He and his son had very few honest conversations, and the honest ones they did have ended in yelling. 

Tim wasn’t sure if he, in some twisted way, preferred the outright confrontation his father sometimes gave him, as opposed to the more frequent indifference. 

Tim glanced down at the phone in his hand, a text from his step mom checking in. He smiled, heart aching at the simple kindness and care she so easily gave to him. 

He didn’t know Dana that well, but she still put in an effort to show him that she cared. Since she began seeing his father Tim could count on Dana to never miss a holiday or birthday. And though they were just texts and calls, he greatly appreciated them. She even kept contact with him on days that weren’t holidays. 

Tim couldn’t deny that he wanted more.  Wanted something, anything, from his blood family. Tim hadn’t spoken to his father in months. 

That wasn’t exactly new. They’d spend months apart all throughout his life. His parents on archeological digs around the world, and Tim at home in their big house. 

After his mom died, Tim put his all into helping his dad recover. All his life he wanted to be near his parents, to spend time with them and to have the chance to show them that he loved them. 

They spent months together, Tim quit Robin and Steph took over. He spent time with the Bats and his friends, but it was less. He was focused on his father and being a good son. 

Once Jack got better and was able to begin living again he resumed his travels. He met Dana. It wasn’t the same of course. Jack had loved Janet Drake. 

But life went on. 

They got into a few fights, Tim was trying to hold onto the father that he wanted. The issue was that that was a father that Jack was not. 

So they didn’t really talk. 

Tim’s dad had his own place with Dana, he had his own life. And Tim had his own apartment, he had his own life. He knew logically that he had people now. But it sometimes felt as though Tim was still living in Drake manor, alone. 

It had changed some when he first became Robin. Initially that had been a means to an end, all for the purpose of helping and supporting Batman, and by extension Bruce. Tim had been devastated to find out that Robin- that Jason- had died. 

It hadn’t been perfect. Bruce had lost his son, Alfred his grandson, and Dick his little brother. Gotham had lost a child. They were all distant with Tim at first, just as his parents were. But at the time it was ok. He was used to it. 

And Tim understood. He was painfully aware of what they’d lost. 

Hell, even the rogues had hesitance in their movements when they faced off against the new Robin. They didn't look at Tim like a true Robin for the first several months. 

But still, over time he’d found his place and carved out his own bonds that had everything to do with himself, and nothing to do with the boy who died. 

He’d grown close with Dick, learning what it was to have, and to be, a brother. 

Hell, even Damian and Tim had a truce and a mostly peaceful relationship nowadays. 

And having the Titans had certainly helped. Tim had been devastated when he lost Kon and Bart, and when he fell out with Cassie. 

He’d never forget that grief and loneliness, so violently painful and unlike the ghostly numbness he’d felt as a child. 

Tim still sometimes found himself with shallow breathing and a fast heart, begging Kon or Bart to fly or run to him, wherever he was, so he could feel in his arms that they were alive. 

A chime and vibration sounded against Tim’s thigh, signaling a text. He glanced at his phone, letting out a huff of a laugh. 

Bruce: Unfortunately Dick won’t be joining us for patrol tonight, he got into the milk and is stuck in the bathroom

Damian: This is why there should not be any animal product milk in this house, not only is it unethical and disgusting to drink the milk from another animal, but Richard clearly cannot be trusted to protect his own digestive system 

Jason: really dickhead? 

Jason: I guess that’s on me for asking Alfie to make homemade macaroni and cheese

Jason: but cmon Dickie why are you as a grown ass man drinking glasses of milk??

Damian: You should have known better, corpse. Richard cannot control himself when it comes to milk, he thinks himself strong enough but time and time again is proven wrong. 

Bruce: Please don’t call your brother a corpse 

Over the years, especially since getting Jason back, Bruce had mellowed out. He’d grown and allowed himself to become a much healthier support to his kids. He was better inside the cape, and outside of it. 

No one had taken it well when Jason died, but it had felt just as bad when he first showed up in Gotham, back from the dead and out for revenge.

Tim still didn’t really have any sort of close relationship with Jason. 

They worked together from time to time, and had formed a sort of truce, but Tim’s view of Jason was still tainted by the Red Hood. 

Tim couldn’t quite forget or forgive what Jason had done to him inside of Titans Tower. And beyond that it was just slightly awkward. Tim had looked up to Jason for so long. He followed him and Batman around Gotham for years, and despite not knowing him personally, he had an idea in his head of who Jason was. 

And that idea, of the boy from crime alley, who was both foul mouthed and kind, who was Tim’s hero, who Tim had mourned, was rudely shattered by the introduction of Red Hood. It hurt. It felt like a betrayal, but Tim also felt like a fool for thinking he knew Jason at all. For thinking he had any idea of who the guy was. 

And no matter how much Tim could understand why he had come back how he did, and how messed up it all was, he still just felt uncomfortable around Jason. He didn’t know him, and he didn’t think he wanted to try to know him anymore. 

He would never be angry at Dick for missing and welcoming his brother back, or at Alfred for doing the same for his grandson who had died, and the same went for Bruce who had lost a son and then by some miracle got him back. 

He kept his distance from Jason, and whenever he spoke up asking to switch routes or cases, no one stopped him or judged him. He also didn’t complain when Jason avoided him either. 

It was complicated, and Tim knew that they all understood that. They could nurture their relationship with their previously dead son and brother, and Tim didn’t need to be a part of that. 

He could still find solace and family in his team in San Francisco, and in his family and friends in Gotham.

Bruce checked on Tim more in the past few months than any other adult had in Tim’s entire life. Tim appreciated the care. 

When Jason first came back and Bruce lightened Tim’s caseload, Tim thought it meant he was no longer needed. He thought that Bruce was pushing him out, that he didn’t want him, that he was no longer wanted now that Jason was back. 

Jason beat him into the ground, and Tim thought that Bruce regretted ever letting him become the third Robin. 

So when he woke up in the med bay, broken bones, bandaged throat, unable to even speak, Tim thought that Bruce would take away Robin and send him home. 

The look on Bruce’s face had been heartbroken, and Tim wasn’t entirely sure if that heartbreak was for him or for Jason. When he said as much, Bruce looked devastated. 

He apologized to Tim. Tim had been taken aback to see a few tears slip down the man’s face. Bruce was sorry and he expressed his regret for so many things. 

He said sorry for not being there for Tim. For being blinded by his grief. For being a bad mentor. A bad adult in his life. He promised to be there for Tim however the boy wanted, and even more than that he promised to allow himself to see Tim’s troubles and help him even if Tim didn’t ask for the help. 

He acknowledged that Tim didn’t have enough support living at Drake manor, and that he hadn’t made it any better, too focused on his own downward spiral after Jason’s death. But Bruce swore that he learned that that was no excuse. 

He almost lost another son. One of his sons had nearly killed the other. 

And more tears spilled down Bruce’s face as he apologized for the son who he could never stop loving. The one who came back wrong, but who could never be wrong so long as he was alive. 

He stayed by Tim’s bed all throughout his recovery, promising not to let anything like it happen again. Attending to all of Tim’s needs, promising he didn’t have to see Jason and that he wouldn’t let what he had done to Tim go. 

He was sorry for being a bad father to both of them, all of them. 

“Tim I’m so sorry for putting so much weight onto your shoulders since Jason’s-“ He’d broken off, face fighting to stay open and vulnerable instead of the signature blank wipe of a Bat, “I shouldn’t have done that to you, and I hope that I can earn your forgiveness.” 

And things had actually changed after that. 

Bruce had let Tim into his family, and no matter the reason or how rocky it had begun, Tim would be forever grateful for it. 

His phone chimed with a text from said man, in their own private chat. Reminding him of patrol and a short blurb about a case. A second bubble of text came through asking how his day was and imploring him to stay over after patrol. 

Tim smiled, sending out an affirmative, both about the patrol, and the aforementioned family time after. He added the information about the case to his computer quickly before getting ready to leave. 

He shook out his hands and did a slow grounding exercise, his eyes closed. Once he finished, Tim downed the last of his coffee, placed the empty mug in the sink, and changed into his Red Robin uniform before heading to Bristol. 

The sound of his grapple shooting into the air and clinking against fire escapes and buildings, switched intermediately with the sound of his running boots. 

Tim let out more breaths, letting the cool night air and wind ground him. This was where he felt at home, where he felt like himself. 

A desperate, violent scream interrupted his route home, and had Tim changing directions to follow it. 

He tapped his ear where his comm was, “Hey O, Red Robin signing on. I’m at the edge of the city, 15 minutes out from the cave. Heading to base before patrol, but I’m taking a detour because I hear screaming in the area.” He paused, lowering his voice as he got closer, “I’m gonna check it out first.”

“Affirmative Red, keep me updated if you need backup. There have been reports of both Riddler and Ivy near your current area the past two nights.” Oracle replied.

As he got closer he took note of the thin vines that lined Gothams buildings growing thicker. Ivy’s plants had become a part of Gotham's ecosystem over the years, becoming just as abundant as common flowers and weeds. 

That didn’t mean you weren’t cautious around them still, same as you were cautious in all of Gotham. Just because mugging and crime were normal didn’t mean you let your guard down. 

There was a lump of a person on the ground ahead, nestled between two buildings, to the right of a flickering street light. The lump writhed and whimpered. 

Getting closer he noticed that the thick vines were wrapped around nearby trash cans and street signs, bright pink flowers that had yet to bloom dotted the vines every few feet.

Pollen was likely at play here, and though they were not opened yet, Tim could tell from their size that the flowers wouldn’t stay closed for much longer. And that didn’t even take into account that this guy up ahead had likely already disturbed some of the blooms, if his state was anything to go by. 

Tim rummaged through his utility belt. His hand hooked on a small mask and he slipped it on, relieved that he remembered to pack it. 

Tim kept a respectable distance away from the guy in front of him, voice steady, “Excuse me sir, I’m Red Robin. Can you tell me what happened?”

The man jerked towards the sound of Tims voice. His alley accent was thick, “Fuck it’s c-cold! That bitches flo-owers-” He broke off, standing on wobbly legs, but staying hunched into himself. His eyes were tightly closed with his head tucked down into his own chest. He tilted his body to obscure some boxes sitting behind him.

Tim held out his arms placatingly, in case the man did lift his head up, he didn't want to look like a threat and scare him more. “Yeah, it looks like you got hit with some nasty cuddle pollen. I can help you home. Do you have somebody there who can stay with you?.” 

It didn’t need to be said that being near another person would help, Gothamites knew the drill by this point. 

Though he looked like a victim, Tim was still cautious. This was Gotham after all. Everyone had the potential to turn on you. 

“F-Fuck.” The man shivered, shakily walking up to Red Robin, “Y-yeah, I got a daughter at home who can sit with me.”

Tim eyed the boxes leaned against the nearby wall. There weren't many, just three stacked up, but they looked like brand new electronics, and that wasn't something people just left laying around in Gotham, let alone Crime Alley. 

“Can I ask what you’re doing out at this hour?” Tim frowned, at least the man had someone at home. 

There were too many people in this city who had to agonize through the pollen all alone. It was amazing what a simple hand hold, hug, or even just sitting pressed against another person could do to negate the cold. 

“Don’t ask k-kid.” The guy leaned heavily on Tim, wheezing out a relieved sigh, “Look, I’m not doing nothing you or the Bats gotta worry ‘bout. I work nights.” 

And even if it were something the Bats had to worry about, Tim was just gonna help this guy home to his kid and move on with his night. Most people in Gotham weren’t as lucky as he was, and unless it was murder, hurting women or kids, organized gangs, or some other terrible crime that had victims beyond stealing, Tim didn’t give a shit. 

“Yeah alright.” Red Robin leaned down and hefted the boxes into his arms, “You wanna drop these somewhere? Or take them?”

The guy eyed him distrusting, his shivers had lessened and he lifted the boxes from Tim’s hands. “I’ll take ‘em home. Sell ‘em another time.”

Tim nodded, keeping his hand around the guys upper arm as they made their way deeper into Crime Alley. 

The man's apartment wasn't too far from where Tim had originally found him, just a few blocks. 

Tim remembers his first time being hit with cuddle pollen. He had been following Batman and Jason’s Robin when he accidentally stumbled into some of Ivy’s blooms on a rooftop. 

It’d taken forever to get his aching and shivering joints to cooperate enough to descend the rusty fire escape. And when he finally did get down Tim had sobbed at the thought of going back to an empty Drake manor. 

It hadn’t been super late at that point, so the boy made his way to the city bus. Crowded as it was, Tim was able to subtly press his leg or upper arm against the other riders. 

It had sucked, but it was manageable. And one thing about Tim was that he always found a way to get through things himself. 

The second time Tim got hit with pollen was in his first month as Robin. Bruce reluctantly sat with him in the Wayne living room, sides pressed to each other, his arm wrapped loosely over Tim’s shoulders while the news played in the background. 

After the chill had truly passed, Bruce gruffly left to his study, telling Tim to ask Afred for some food before he went back to Drake manor. 

They made it to the mans apartment without incident. Red Robin walked him to his door so that the chill wouldn’t creep back in too quick and hurt the guy. 

“Thanks,” The guy said as he ducked into his apartment, a genine grateful look on his face, “for helpin’ me home, and for not making my night worse.” he said as he dropped the boxes by his front door. He nodded a goodbye and shut his door. 

Red Robin sighed, heading out of the building “Hey O, reporting in. We got some active Ivy vines and pollen on 4th.”

“Got it, adding clean up on 4th to the patrol route for tonight.” There was some audible typing before Barbara said, “And I’ll let the big bat know that you're headed back now.”

“Thanks.” Tim smiled, lifting his arm to shoot his grapple and finally meet up with the other bats. 

He was much deeper into crime alley than he originally expected to be, which shouldn’t have been a problem, but in his rush to get home, and with his awareness still not quite all there, Tim failed to notice the men on the other side of the street. 

One had a gun raised, and silently took a shot, knocking the grapple out of Red Robin’s hand. Tim suppressed a yelp, his glove ripped nearly clean off and blood pooling in his palm and down his arm. 

Tim ducked immediately, dropping his arm and rolling beneath the bullets now firing at him. He hugged his pulsing hand to his chest, and used his cape as cover.

Bullets pounded against it, and nearly sent him to the ground. He felt the promise of bruises everywhere, but the bullet proof material stopped the bullets from penetrating and killing him. 

He sprinted, stumbling as he did, to find some cover, falling behind a car. His back, ribs, and thighs stung where bullets had slammed into him. He shook out his cape with shaking hands, bullets clinking against the ground as they fell from the material. 

Everything was loud and painful, Tim squeezed his eyes shut, making sure to stay behind the car door as glass from the windows shattered. Without the cape he would have been fucked. 

He heard the gang of men whooping and laughing. The one who hit him initially had a smirk on his face, proud of the prospect of catching one of Gotham's vigilantes off guard. 

Beneath the exploding debris of the car Tim’s breathing was failing him. He tore gauze from his utility belt, roughly holding them in his bleeding hand. Though it felt longer, within a minute the bullets slowed, and then stopped. 

Tim braced himself, pulling out three batarangs from his belt. He gripped them tightly and began inching around the car. 

He threw two in quick succession, cutting achilles tendons and knocking men to the ground. 

These idiots wouldn’t be a problem for him, he was just frustrated that they caught him so off guard. He was angry that they managed to unsteady him. 

He felt himself beginning to numb out. He could take these guys quickly and still salvage his night. 

Heavy footsteps filled the night air and Tim paused. 

A deep mechanized voice spoke, “I thought I was clear.” The unclicking sound of two safeties being disengaged, “This is a nice neighborhood boys, you’re fucking up the good sleep I’m sure the folks here were getting. And I don’t give a fuck if he’s a vigilante, Reds still a kid and you all know that.” His voice was like steel. 

He was 17, hardly a kid. And if Tim was old enough to take care of himself, work on murder cases, and propose budgets for a multimillion dollar company, then he thinks he’s old enough to be considered an adult. 

“This is none of your business Hood. Falcone won’t be happy if you mess with more of his men. You don’t- “ the man broke off in a gurgled scream as he hit the ground. Red Hood shot once, a bullet through his neck. 

More guns cocked and reloaded, panicked and angry voices filling the air. 

“Ya’ know, the big bat wants me to go easier on you guys. You wanna know what I think?” A smirk in his voice, unseen behind his helmet, “I think some of you assholes are too far gone and aren’t willing to learn. Not to mention that this is my turf, my home. It doesn’t look like you guys cared enough to use rubber bullets against Red. So why should I care to use ‘em against you?” His voice dripped with venom. 

Behind his helmet Jason’s eyes darted to and assessed the car that Red still hid behind. It hardly looked like a car anymore, it was just a chunk of metal riddled with bullets. 

“Not to mention, I've been tracking your little operation.” His lip curled beneath his helmet as he looked back at the men, “You all knew the rules.”

It was over quickly. Knee caps exploded and screams filled the air. 

Tim did jump out to help about halfway through. Three of them were knocked out cleanly by Red Robin, 6 others littered the ground in various stages of life and death, courtesy of Red Hood. 

Tim had to assume that the ones he killed were the big players in whatever operation he’d unearthed. Since getting closer with the Bats again Jason didn’t kill unless women or children were being hurt. 

Tim’s breath came out in quick puffs as he stared down at his shaking hands. His whole body ached, and he felt his mind floating just a few inches away from his body. 

He swayed slightly. 

“ok? …obin? …Tim!” Large gloved hands squeezed his upper arms, and lifting his head he came face to face with Jason Todd. He stared at the white tuft of hair at the top of the man’s forehead. Tim didn’t notice him take his helmet off. 

“Hey, are you with me?” Jason’s voice was rough, his brow creased in concern. 

Tim’s eyes darted to meet Jason’s. He was in his full Red Hood gear, thick kevlar lining his whole body, and guns strapped to every spot they could fit. 

“Y-yeah- Yes, I’m good.” Tim took a step back, out of Hood’s grip. He ran a hand through his hair, belatedly realizing that he was shaking worse than before. “Thank you for the backup, I don’t know if Oracle filled you in, but I ran into a civilian who’d gotten a nasty dose of Ivy’s pollen.” Tim let out another shaky breath. 

It made him feel more unsteady that Hood was close and seeing Tim when he was unsteady. It was painfully awkward.

Not knowing what else to do, Tim fell into giving a report, “I escorted him home and was caught off guard by Falcone’s men. It seems like they were just in the right place at the right time and took their chance to try and take me out. It was my mistake for being caught off guard and not keeping aware of my surroundings. I was reassessing, and I do think I would have had it handled, but I’ll put it in my report once we get back to the cave.” 

“Hey uh, no worries kid.” Jason hovered, looking like he wanted to reach out and steady him. He eyed the blood running down Tims arm, brow furrowed. 

Fighting with his bo staff and batarangs had been slippery with the blood. And his hand burned with every thwack of his staff, but he got what needed to be done done.

But now he wished Jason would go. Tim was left on uneven ground. And heaven knows Jason probably felt stuck too, obligation keeping him from leaving.

Maybe he should’ve taken the night off. 

“-ey, did you inhale any pollen tonight?” Jason’s voice filtered through Tim’s thoughts.

“What?” Tim met his eyes again. 

“You’re shivering.” 

“Oh,” Tim said dumbly, “I don't think I did? I put on my mask right when I realized that pollen was active in the area.” Another shudder passed over Tim. “But I don’t- I’m not sure.” 

“And we gotta get that arm looked at.” Jason nodded his head towards Tim’s bloody arm. “You hurt anywhere else?” 

“Just bumps and bruises, they got a lucky shot off on my hand. ” Tim said, letting out a shaky breath. 

“Can I take a look at it?” Jason asked, his voice gruff and unsure.  

“It’s fine, just grazed.” Tim said as he held out his shaking hand that was tightly fisted around blood soaked gauze. 

Jason’s hands hovered in the air, palms facing up. He gently took Tim’s hand in his own, slowly uncurling Tim’s sore and sticky fingers. 

The gauze stuck in places, blood congealed between his fingers and against the wound. Tim’s fingers were sore and protested the straightening, but Jason was slow and gentle as he properly cleaned and wrapped his hand. 

“Let’s head back to the cave.” Hood ushered Tim to his motorcycle, a steadying hand on his back. 

Tim nodded sluggishly, “Thank’s Jason.” 

They pulled into the underground cave entrance, the rumble of Jason's bike echoing through the garage and connecting caves. 

Bruce was sitting at the bat computer, he turned his attention to his two sons' arrival. 

Damian and Dick were a bit deeper in the cave, nearly ready for patrol. Nightwing wouldn’t be going out tonight, his stomach still disagreeing with him. But he’d be able to help prepare for patrol and run comms, seeing as the Batcave had multiple accessible bathrooms.

The young Robin had a nasty look on his face as Dick helped him to check his grapple and belt supplies. Damian nearly hissed when Dick licked his hand and smoothed down his hair. 

Agent A and Bruce both met the two arrivals as they made their way to the med bay. 

“My boy, what happened?” Alfred took up on Tim’s unoccupied side, both he and Jason guiding him to a seat. 

Bruce hovered closeby, fingers twitching as if he wanted to do something. 

“I’m fine Alfie,” Tim smiled tiredly. “I ran into some trouble on my way here but I’m alright. Jason gave me backup and patched me up. I’ll type up a report before I head back out for patrol.” 

Alfred raised a brow, but focused on the task at hand, and began unraveling the red tinged bandage. 

Though his hand had already been cleaned and bandaged out in the field, they always took extra caution when it came to his cuts. They didn’t want to risk any infection with the boys missing spleen. 

“I must thank you master Jason, for being there for your brother.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. Eyes pointedly avoiding Tim. 

Tim froze momentarily. Alfred turned to him and added, “However my boy, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go back out tonight.”

Ok, that wasn’t happening. Tim had things to do. He could do those things and have a productive patrol and then spend time at the manor catching his breath and being relaxed and with his family. 

But that should be later. Not now. 

“Thanks Alfred, but I'm alright and I have cases to pursue and a stakeout planned for tonight.” 

“Tim,” Bruce paused and took a breath, “Don’t worry about working tonight. Please stay in.”

Oh great, B sounded worried. Tim didn't want any of them to needlessly worry. 

Alfred tutted, smoothing down the final bandage on Tim’s stiff hand. 

“Thank you Jaylad.” Bruce murmured to Jason, eyes warm and hand on his shoulder. 

“Didn’t do nothing worth thanking.” Jason rolled his eyes. 

Tim’s hands shook and it was embarrassingly noticeable as Alfred and Jason both held his injured one in their shared palms. 

“We should test for pollen and stay close by.” Jason murmured, eyes focused on Alfred’s work. 

“I’m fine.” Tim’s grumble going unheard. 

“We’re taking the night off.” Bruce suddenly declared. 

“What!” Tim whipped his head towards Bruce.  

“Father, there is much to be done!” Damian stomped up. His eyes scanned Tim and his bandaged hand, letting out a tut. 

“Well I'm not complaining, you’re not the only one dealing with grave injuries, Timmy.” Dick rubbed his own stomach groaning and letting out a fart.

“Dick.” Bruce sighed, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows. 

“Gross Dickhead!” Jason yelled. 

“No wait, stop! Damian’s right, there are things to do, people to help, operations to dismantle.” Tim emphasizes to Jason, after they’d just ran into some of Falcones' men. “Dick can stay in, but I’m fine.”

Bruce squeezed his second youngest’s shoulder, “Tim it’s ok if we take a night off, and I’d like to make sure you’re taken care of too.” 

“I think you got hit with pollen, kid.” Jay said, eyeing the shakes still wracking Tims body, despite the hands he had on him. Weird. 

Damian’s nose wrinkled, “You are Vile Richard. But maybe father is right. Timothy and Richard are both compromised. Why do we not just retire to the den?”  He had been told to enjoy his childhood and take breaks when he could. Damian might as well grab his paints and settle in for a movie night. 

Not to mention that Timothy’s hands were still shaking. The fool couldn’t be trusted to look after himself. 

“It’s settled then!” Dick smiled, all teeth, ignoring his family's exasperation. He ruffled Damian’s hair, “movie night!” 

“You’re a fool, accept the hand being offered to you, interloper.” Damian scoffed at Tim’s hesitant look. 

Tim felt a weird kind of discomfort at the thought. He should be able to give to Gotham and his cases, completing the tasks that only he could, and after that he could accept the casual hand held out to him. He didn’t want it when it felt like his control was slipping. 

Maybe Tim was a fool. 

“Gotham will still be Gotham if we take a night off son.” Bruce assured. “We’ll all have a night in. It's been too long since we all spent time together anyways.” 

“You’re not the boss of me, old man.” Jason interjected, sneering at the pathetic soft look on Bruce's face. “I’m taking the night off to make sure the kid doesn’t get into any more trouble-” Tim glared, “uh if that's cool.” 

“Please stay in Tim, I’m asking.” Bruce implored. 

“But- fuck fine.” Tim grumbled. 

“Plus I don’t wanna leave him alone in fartwings presence.”

“Hey!” Dick yelled. 

Black Bat arrived at the manor early in the afternoon, and with the time difference between Gotham and Hong Kong, she immediately fell into bed. 

When she woke up it was past 12am, and she figured she could help in the cave while the others patrolled. Before she could make it there however, she heard in one of the rooms on the ground floor. 

Investigating, she found nearly all of her brothers along with Bruce, arguing over which movie to put on. 

Damian was sitting on the ground, legs spread with a canvas on a short easel placed between them. His posture was straight and leaned forward to focus on his painting. There was a cup full of brushes next to him, and a look of concentrated contentment on his face. 

Dick and Jason were arguing over what to put on. 

She took note of Dick’s posture. He looked on edge for some reason, but it wasn’t directed at anyone around him. And the way he leaned slightly forward told Cass that his stomach was causing him pain. 

She wondered if he took a hit on patrol. 

Jason’s eyes kept flicking to Tim. Weird. She knew that the two tended to avoid each other. 

Tim was leaning against Bruce, his eyes closed, but his breathing told Cass that he was awake and doing a breathing exercise. 

They didn’t notice her until she entered the doorway, which was still considered a late response from the other Bats, and a silent approach from Cass. 

Dick tore away from his argument with Jason when she sat down between him and Tim, raising his hands and signing too fast for anyone but Cass to understand. 

Even if her signing seemed more reserved, her family knew her well enough to see how she met his signing with equal excitement and speed. 

It’d been too long since Tim had seen Cass. They kept in touch with video calls and texting, but it wasn’t the same thing as seeing his sister in person.

Tim let them catch up for a few minutes, content to lean into his kinda-sorta dad and just watch his family. 

Bruce squeezed his shoulder. They already ran Tim’s blood for pollen, but nothing had turned up in the results. 

They were still treating it like a pollen incident, and it was a little silly if you asked Tim.

He still appreciated it. 

Jason joined the conversation, interrupting Dick, signing and speaking the words, “Goldie over here drank a whole bunch of milk that's why he’s out of commission. You’re gonna wanna use one of the second floor bathrooms. Bruce’s big ass house is good for something I guess.” 

“Shut up Jason.” Dick rolled his eyes. No one understood the pain of loving something that hurt you so. 

Cass shook her head, placing a comforting hand on Dicks shoulder, contrasting the disappointed look on her face. 

Tim smiled and finally interjected, “Cass! I didn’t realize you were back. How was Hong Kong?”

She smiled back easily, ruffling Tim’s hair, then her hands started moving, ‘I’m doing good work there, but it’s good to be back too. With family. I missed you little brother.’ 

She tilted her head at him, questioning, but her hands kept still. 

“I’ve been good. Been taking things slow,” Tim ignored the bewildered looks at that, “slower, and I’m making sure to find time to take photos in nature outside of the city. Kon and the rest of the team visit pretty often which is nice. Oh and I'll have to show you some new gadgets I’ve been working on. I came up with an idea for new batarangs so they’re more efficient when-“

“Don’t let him fool you, I had to save his ass on patrol today, and he was pretty shaken up.” 

“Shut up Jay! I wasn’t shaken up.” Tim scowled, “I’ve saved your ass plenty of times. Plus saving me doesn’t offset how much you owe me for slitting my throat.” Tim paused. 

Oops. 

Everyone stared at him with varying levels of disapproval and devastation. 

Bruce opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, his expression was even more constipated than Dicks. 

Cass raised a brow, and Damian scoffed. 

“Uh,” Jason coughed, “Damn kid, I guess it’s your thing to joke about and my thing to stay uncomfortable and regretful about.” 

“Damn right.” Tim laughed a bit. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to joke about, but Tim was sick of dancing around it, he was still holding it against Jason, just a bit. And he didn’t care if that was fine or not because it just was. 

Plus if he could joke about this then the tension between him and Jason was definitely getting better. 

“Please don’t joke about this.” Bruce’s words finally crawled their way out of his throat. 

All of his kids aside from Damian snorted. They only felt a little bad.  

“Jason gets to joke about being a zombie, so why can’t I joke about said zombie attacking me?” 

There was a moment of silence, and then one person in the room burst into laughter. 

“Fuck you!” Jason said through peals of laughter. 

Tim was warm, happy, and content. Damian’s head was pillowed on the edge of the couch as he watched what was on the television, his paints long forgotten. 

Dick was sprawled nearby and asleep. Jason was curled up in the live seat, his neck bent at an awkward angle, but he slept soundly. Cass was curled into the corner of the couch still watching the movie. Tim was stretched out, limbs taking up an unreasonable amount of space on the couch. 

Alfred had retired to his quarters, and Bruce watched over his family. 

Tim loved the life he’d built for himself. Having a home of his own in his apartment was something he needed. But having another place to come home to made his heart so warm.