Rookie Start
A Word: Requested TimDamian cop AU. There will be more to this though.
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"Tim," Dick doesn't waste any time after hitting him with his absurd question. Sliding straight into that whiny and wheedling tone that he knows Tim will do almost anything to shut up.
Literally anything and Todd in Vice has the photos to prove it. Tim slams his locker closed and turns to Dick who is still wearing the sopping wet clothes he'd been thrown into the harbor with. His hair is dry at least so he doesn't look completely like a drowned and kicked puppy as he looks pleadingly up at Tim.
"My cat died and I need to get my Grandmother neutered," Tim's mouth gets ahead of him as it usually does when his partner's trying to get Tim to do something he doesn't like. The fact that Tim knows it's all a devious act to bend people to his will does not make Dick any less effective when he turns on the big eyes. "No, Dick."
"Tim," Dick hunches his shoulders and —Tim blames Disney because half the precinct knows Dick escaped from their mental asylum— pouts. A full out lip thrust with wobbling that would do a toddler proud. "I don't want to be alone."
"You'll be in crowd of people!" Tim exclaims even as he feels himself caving. God, if only Dick pulled this act on criminals their solve rate would be so much higher, but, no, he saves this all for people he claims as friends. "Your entire family will be there! You won't be alone so don't pull that line on me."
"It won't be the same!" Dick nearly wails as he springs up and grabs Tim's arm. Avoiding a full body hug at the last minute because Tim will punch him if he drips on him. "Please, Tim. Please!"
Oh, he's going to regret this. Tim knows it because Dick's been making him regret things on an almost daily basis since they were first assigned as partners five years ago. "Fine. I'll- Dick! Let me go! You're getting me wet!"
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Tim tries not to squirm as he sits between Dick and Commissioner Wayne —"I think we're to the point you can call me Bruce now Tim."— in the uncomfortably hot metal seats set aside for distinguished guests. He'd much rather be in the bleachers with the rest of Dick's strange and extended family, but the two men had insisted otherwise.
He can see Jason and Steph getting into another of their one-upmanship fights. A pinch there a slap there. They'll be throwing punches in under fifteen minutes if Cass doesn't stop them. Or Babs who looks more interested in her phone than anything else.
Tim would wonder how so many key people could miss a shift if he didn't know every one of them called the Commissioner —"Bruce, Tim, really."— Dad. Instead he wonders that no one has gone after them for being so heavily staffed with the same family. Probably a combination of the different last names and their record of closing cases.
"There he is," Dick mutters from next to Tim. He doesn't immediately start making a spectacle of himself which has to be the presence of Commissioner Wayne —"Really, Tim? You spend Christmas with us."— but the gleam in his eye is enough for Tim to know that all bets are going to be off after the ceremony. Dick's absolute love of embarrassing his siblings could not be denied for longer than that.
Tim looks at the small sea of uniformed men and women. Perfectly pressed and polished for one of the last times in their careers. He doesn't see the newest Wayne addition to the precinct and doesn't mind that one bit. Damian Wayne had been a certified pain in Tim's ass from the second week of his partnership with Dick. The boy had shown up one shift, taken a long and hostile look at Tim, and proceeded to do everything in his power to make Tim want to plan and carry out an elaborate assassination scheme just to get free of him.
The last few years Damian spent traveling the world and other things Tim had never cared to pay attention to have been a minor blessing really. One that's ending, and soon he'll have to deal with the demon spawn almost daily at work.
The ceremony is as dry and boring as Tim remembers his to be, and he zones it out in favor of counting how many times Dick aborts one of the impossible and showy stretches he makes look easier than they are. Tim dutifully claps with the rest of the crowd as sweat starts sticking his shirt to his skin. Sudden movement as the sea of newly minted officers break off to find their families brings Tim out of it and he stands up gratefully. Turning to say something to Dick when the man's face breaks into a million watt grin just as a shadow falls on Tim's seat.
"Father," Damian greets them cordially. His aristocratic air suiting the stiffly pressed uniform he's wearing. "Grayson, Drake. Thank you for attending."
Dick says something. Suitably embarrassing or assholish going by Damian's face, but Tim doesn't really hear it because he's too busy trying not to gape at the man who is not the Damian Wayne he remembers seeing last.
That Damian had been a few inches below Tim's height and was swallowed up by perpetually baggy clothes and a scowl that could set fires. This Damian is actually taller than Dick and looks close to gaining the Commissioner's —"You will call me by name eventually, son."— impressive bulk. There's no insult falling from his mouth to set Tim on edge, and without the scowl Damian's regal features stand out more. Blue eyes turning Tim even more speechless as Damian turns to him. Expectant and absolutely not mocking at all.
It's not until Damian squawks out an enraged insult when Steph jumps him from behind that Tim snaps out of his downward spiral to the twilight zone. Because the man spitting curses about his siblings' lineage even as his face flushes in pleasure definitely is the Damian Tim remembers.
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It's late when Tim manages to extract himself from the Wayne family party. Slipping through darkened halls when Dick gets distracted by something Babs says. He's going to have a hell of a hangover on the morning. The worst out the three of them unless Jason or Steph wake back up to continue drinking. Tim types up a reminder on his phone to bring coffee and painkillers in the morning. For himself because a hungover Dick is a sullen and spiteful thing to deal with until lunch rolls around.
Tim's nearly to the door of the Comissioner's —"Let's be reasonable, Tim. You're practically part of the family by now. You might as well call me Bruce outside of work."— when a shadow catching up to him nearly makes him jump.
"Drake," it's Damian, of course, and Tim gives the man a polite and awkward smile. This is usually the part in all their previous interactions when Damian would bust out some mean and spiteful insult. This new Damian doesn't seem all that inclined to follow those rules though. Part of Tim is waiting for that insult, and the rest of him is still dazed over the fact that it doesn't seem to be coming. It's something he's going to have to get used to apparently. The fact that Damian seems to have grown up while he was away.
Grown up real good. Tim smacks down the sly voice that points out how good, and tries to dredge up some pleasantry for the new officer. "I've got an early shift and I'm going to be working twice as hard to make up for Dick," Damian makes an amused snort. They can both hear Dick's laughter echoing. Loud and uncontrolled. "Congratulations by the way."
Tim doesn't just mean the academy either. Getting placed so quickly in a precinct was something done on Damian's own merit. The entire process is blind and not even the Commissioner —Tim can hear a put upon sigh in his head— knows who is being chosen until the end despite the rumors.
"Thank you," Damian looks oddly pleased and, if the light were brighter, he'd probably see the man is flushing again. "It means a lot to me that you came as well, Drake."
Ah, guilt. Right on time. Tim grins and looks away to give his neck a break. He's still not used to having to look up at Damian yet. "You know, we will be working in the same building now. I think you're allowed to call me Tim."
Damian has, on occasion, been known to use people's first names. Only his family or extremely close friends, and never with Tim.
"I do not know about that," Damian smiles and alarms instantly start going off in Tim's head, because this is a slow and honest smile. Something real and sweet that undoes a lot of the work Tim has put into not thinking about how very adult Damian has become. "Will you be calling my father by his name anytime soon, Timothy?"
No, he won't. Tim almost says that aloud too, because Damian's barely perceptible accent is doing interesting things to Tim's name. Things that just might be deliberate based on the smug look in the man's eyes as he takes a step closer. One broad hand reaching out to rest against Tim's side. Radiating heat even through the layers Tim's wearing.
"Maybe," Tim takes a step back and looks away from Damian. Work. He has it, early even. "I'll see you around then."
Tim leaves quickly and doesn't pay attention to the fact that Damian's shadow stays in the door watching even as he pulls away. "Crap," Tim doesn't bang his head against the steering wheel like he wants to only because he knows it won't do a thing to solve his confusion.
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