Tim Drake Steals Himself A Family, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Part 2 (rough draft)

Heart pounding, Tim slowly pulled the blanket off his head, then rose up as much as he dared to peer out the car window.

It was so dark he could barely see anything at all. There was a faint glow from what appeared to be a hibernating computer with multiple screens, but the only other things to break up the darkness were what seemed to be indicator lights on a lot of equipment. Tim wanted to be excited at getting to see Batman's secret lair (the real Batcave!), but he couldn't actually see anything except the computer, and it was...scary, being stuck in such deep darkness.

He still had a plan to follow, though. Tim lowered himself again and set his phone alarm for an hour and a half, which would hopefully give Batman and Robin plenty of time to go to bed (if they hadn't already) and fall deeply asleep. (It was so late, and they had to be tired; surely they wouldn't do anything else before going to bed?) Then Tim lay down and tried to go back to sleep himself.

He wasn't able to for at least half an hour, but he must have drifted off eventually, because his alarm woke him up. Nothing had changed - it was still pitch black in the car. Tim took a deep breath and sat up.

With a bit of difficulty because of how cramped he'd been for so long, he opened the car door and climbed out, hoping idly that he didn't crash into anything too hard while looking for an exit. He nearly jumped out of his skin when overhead lights snapped on, but he fiercely ordered himself not react, to just keep doing what he'd been doing. It made sense that Batman had automatic lights in his lair, and Tim had to act like he came here all the time and was used to how things were set up.

He finished retrieving his backpack and turned away from the car. He ached to look around and explore, but he couldn't, he had an act to keep up. If there were cameras in the cave, the recordings had to show him acting totally normal for someone who was in this place every day, unsurprised and unawed by anything.

Still, he did his best to peek out of the corners of his eyes as he made his way toward a promising-looking staircase, and it was so, so hard to resist the temptation to turn his head. The huge screens did, indeed, belong to the most giant computer he'd ever seen; there was what might have been some sort of medical area in one part of the- yes, this was definitely a genuine cave; there seemed to be other vehicles, and- Was that a dinosaur? Tim hoped so bad that he'd get to come down here again at least once and look properly.

For now, he managed to keep up his steady march, and he made his way up the long, long staircase.

He eventually reached the top. He held his breath, hoping that there wouldn't be anyone on the other side of the door. He was prepared to go into his act immediately, but he'd hoped to have more time to get some other things done first.

Fortunately, the room into which he emerged was unoccupied. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight shining through the windows for him to tell that it was a study. He crossed the room without pausing and entered the hall.

He did his best, but he couldn't help hesitating until he finally found himself in an area of the house that he recognized from the Wayne parties he'd attended. Relieved, he headed more confidently to the family's private wing, which, unlike during parties, didn't have any security measures enabled at the moment.

He knew, from spying on Wayne Manor through binoculars, which bedroom was Dick's. The double doors at the end of the hall probably led to the master suite, and since Tim had never spotted Jason through any of the bedroom windows on the front of the house, Jason's room was probably across the hall from Dick's. Tim felt fairly confident opening the door next to Dick's room. He snapped on the light and was relieved to find the room not only unoccupied, but pristine and generic, meaning it was likely a guest room rather than used by a family member. He shut the door and exhaled, glad for a chance to drop the act for a little while (surely there wouldn't be cameras installed inside the bedrooms, right...?).

Tim emptied his backpack on the floor and got to work. The bathroom was first, since he needed to take a shower and give his hair as much time to dry as possible. He deliberately tried to be messy, since that would give a more convincing impression of regular use. He squirted carefully considered amounts of shampoo and conditioner down the drain and left both caps open. He rubbed the bar soap down until it looked like it had seen some use rather than being fresh out of the wrapper.

After he shut off the water, he stepped out onto the bathmat without drying off at all, hoping that that would make the mat stay damp longer. After standing there shivering for a while, he waited until he finished dripping and then dried himself, leaving the towel on the floor.

He dressed in the pajamas he'd brought and used a comb, then tugged off the bits of hair that had stuck to it. He crumpled up some toilet paper and arranged both it and the hair in the wastebasket until it looked as natural as he could get it.

The current roll of toilet paper seemed brand-new, and he ought to get rid of at least one of the rolls in the spare stash, but it couldn't be anywhere visible. Tim was also afraid of flushing the toilet multiple times for fear the unusual sound would be noticed. After thinking for a minute, he briskly pulled off a quarter of the current roll, grabbed one of the spares, then went out into the main room and wriggled under the bed. He used his pocket knife to cut a hole in the underside of the mattress, wincing guiltily at the property damage, and stuffed all the toilet paper into the newly-made hiding place.

Tim exhaled and crawled free, then turned his attention to the bed. He flung back the covers, climbed in, then flopped and rolled around and tugged at the covers and pillows, trying to make the bed looked slept in.

Once it was rumpled to satisfaction, he bounced up and collected some of his own items. He arranged them on the bedside tables and the desk and dresser, fussing over them, trying to make their placement look as natural and artless as he could.

Then it was clothes. He hadn't been able to fit much into his backpack along with all the other stuff, but the little he did have, he hung in the closet and stashed in the drawers. It helped a bit that there were some clothes already in the room, though they were all way too big to fit him. He stuffed the underwear packaging alongside the toilet paper in the mattress, then tried to refold the underwear and tuck them beneath his own underclothes to pad out the look of the drawers. As for the closet, he folded the obviously adult-sized clothes and shoved them up on the shelves to make them look more filled in. He also pushed around what was already on the shelves so that they didn't look so perfectly stored.

Tim held his fake journal for a moment, considering. Something so supposedly private shouldn't be just lying out in the open, but he wanted it to be easily findable to anyone attempting to disprove his story. He ended up setting it in the back of a drawer, out of the way but not completely hidden.

Tim looked around the room critically. He went and unfolded the throw blanket on the divan, wadded it up and scrunched it around for a minute, then tossed it back on the furniture. Good.

Then...ah, the bookshelves. It wasn't a very convincing collection for someone his age, but he could at least make it look...less decorative. He re-arranged the books as best he could, then extracted a couple of the ones he'd be most likely to read and tore a blank page out of his fake journal, tearing it into makeshift bookmarks which he stuck into the books at random. He left those books lying horizontally on empty space on the lower shelves rather than sliding them in upright, then grabbed a few more books to relocate to the closet.

That was about as good as he could get it. Tim exhaled again, then checked his phone. It was too late to try to sleep again, and he didn't feel tired, anyway. He also ought to be out in the house by the time the Bats woke up, and he had no idea when they started their day, so it was time to leave the relative safety of his- of the bedroom.

He went out into the hall and was glad that no one was out there, waiting to catch him. He padded across the house until he reached the area he always saw caterers heading into during parties, and sure enough, it was easy to find the kitchen from there.

He'd eaten some snacks during his Batmobile stakeout, but he found that his stomach still rumbled at the sight of a fruit bowl on the counter. His first instinct was to avoid messing anything up, but he had to act like he belonged here, and he knew that Dick or Jason would just grab something out of the bowl if they were hungry. Plus, he needed a convincing reason to be in the kitchen, so he had to be eating when the Waynes found him. He selected a banana (easy to eat, wouldn't make a mess) and ate it as slowly as he could as he waited for a Wayne to appear.

He was still alone when he finished the banana. This time, he risked an orange, since it was the type that could be peeled without a knife. He tried to be tidy and made sure to throw away the peels when he was finished.

Still no Waynes. Nothing in the fruit bowl looked appetizing now that he wasn't really hungry anymore, so he went into the pantry and grabbed the first box of cereal he saw. He didn't have to go hunting through cabinets like he didn't know where anything was because there was already a clean bowl and spoon in the drying rack, so he used those and tried to eat the cereal as slowly as possible.

Nerve-racking as it would be to try to lie to the Waynes' faces, Tim was still so tense with apprehension that it was a relief when someone - the butler, which Tim should be less surprised by; of course the household manager would be up before the nocturnal family - finally entered the kitchen. This was it. He was probably getting kicked out in a few minutes, but it should be because the Waynes were smart and wouldn't tolerate an intruder, not because of Tim's poor acting skills. He had to do his best.

Smile - imitate Dick. Use an upbeat tone of voice. Remember to call him Alfred, not Mr. Pennyworth. He belonged here. He'd lived here for ages. He belonged here. "Good morning, Alfred!"

He'd done it! He'd done it! That had sounded natural, right?

The butler stared, looking very disconcerted. "Er...good morning."

So he wasn't kicking out Tim immediately. That was a good sign.

Next on the script was calling Bruce 'Dad' to establish Tim's alleged role in the family right from the start, and a lead-in to announcing that Tim knew about the Waynes' nighttime activities. "Is Dad going to work today?" Keep it casual. Take another bite of cereal. Look natural.

Mr. Pennyworth seemed dumbfounded. Tim felt a little bad. "I...beg your pardon?"

"Is Dad going to work," Tim repeated, trying hard to stay casual.

"I'm...afraid I'm not sure." Mr. Pennyworth hadn't kicked him out yet. Why...wasn't he kicking Tim out...? Did he need to get Mr. Wayne's permission first?

Whatever the reason, it was working in Tim's favor, so he continued with his script. " 'Cause he seemed pretty tired when he was Batmanning last night, so I just wondered if he was still gonna go to work today or catch up on sleep." There. Tim knew about Batman, and it was totally normal.

Mr. Pennyworth did not look happy. Tim tried not to hold his breath or cringe as he waited to get kicked out, but all the butler said was, "I don't understand. I need to consult with the master."

He left the room, and Tim dismally took another bite of cereal. The man probably really did just need permission before kicking out the little intruder. Tim was pretty sure he'd done well, though, so at least he could console himself with that.

TBC

A/N: I've been finding some minor mistakes in the original story while I write this one; I don't know if/when I'll get a chance to fix them.