Disclaimer: We don't own Batman

Full summary: In the turbulent months after the gassing, Batman comes across an orphan boy by the name of Alvin Draper. He's adopted into the Wayne family, and Bats takes his first step down the road to his future. DickxTim

Warnings: Slash, spoilers, language, and violence

Pairing(s): DickxTim

Fic type: AU, romance

Bizarre speaks: No. Really. We don't think Ollie is in character. But this isn't really Ollie.


The Interface
by Bizarre Aubrey
Chapter III: Batmobiles


As the months went on they seemed to settle into a sort of family (dysfunctional) routine. First, breakfast in the morning, then Alvin went to school. Bruce did whatever he needed to do, then Alvin came home and did his homework, they had dinner, Alvin went to bed, and Bruce went off to be Batman. It was going great until finally Bruce had to go to his meeting with Oliver Queen. This set him in a bad mood from moment one. The guy was a cocky bastard.

"Oliver Queen?" Alvin repeated after Alfred had announced Bruce's appointment over breakfast. "From Star City?"

"Yes," Bruce muttered.

"Is…isn't he married?" Alvin asked. Bruce's head shot up and he stared at the boy.

"Anyone who marries him is brain-dead," Bruce declared. Alfred quietly reprimanded him, but Bruce overlooked him. He and Ollie didn't get along very well. "That jerk has been putting off this meeting for months," Bruce grumbled, to himself. He had wanted to get the whole thing over quickly and with as little pain as possible.

Alvin smiled one of his whispery not-really-there smiles. His adoptive family was getting used to them.

"Have fun," the boy taunted before getting up.

"Isn't it kind of early?" Bruce wondered, glancing at the clock. "You have fifteen minutes?"

"I have to meet some guys from class," Alvin waved it off and kept going.

"He's never going to stop lying to me, is he, Alfred?" Once the large front door shut again, Bruce sighed.

"Probably not, sir," Alfred replied. "But we do not really know the lad. Anything and everything he has said could or could not be true."

"Rachel wasn't exaggerating," Bruce decided, getting to his feet. He had to shower and dress for his meeting with Queen.

Bruce was sure to take his time with that shower. If he could, he wanted to be late, just to make Queen wait. When one has a butler like Alfred though, you're always punctual.

They rolled up before Wayne Enterprises right on time. Even with Bruce walking very slowly he still didn't kill enough time. When he got to the conference room…the bastard wasn't there.

Ollie didn't show up for forty-five minutes. When he did bother to appear he paused to flirt shamelessly with the secretary before coming in and taking a seat, lounging gracelessly in a chair.

"Hello, Brucey."

"You're late." Bruce glowered at him. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Oliver, of course, could not stay focused on the task at hand. Not at all. Bruce was ready to smack him by the end. The blonde-jackass kept asking him about parties and his girlfriends and cars and everything but business. Then when it was all over, Queen smiled because he knew Wayne hated him.

"I'm going to that restaurant up the street for lunch, care to join me?"

"No, no, no, no," Bruce blurted, before he had a chance to think up a feasible excuse. "I. Promised. Alfred that I'd have lunch with him." He grimaced. He wondered if Queen knew about Alvin. It had been all over the papers.

Oliver knew and he smirked. "Sure thing, Brucey," he crowed then got up. "So, I guess I'll be seeing you."

"Yeah," Bruce confirmed with a distracted wave. He grabbed his stuff and rushed for the door.

Alfred, of course, was waiting outside in the car for him and as Bruce climbed in he saw Oliver Queen hitting on adark-haired girl standing at the street corner. She smiled at him and took the hand he offered. Well, at least the jaggof had a replacement date already.

Upon arriving at the Manor, Bruce settled in to wait for his wayward ward. He waited and waited and waited…and waited. Alvin came back around five, but Bruce had been busy doing Bruce Wayne things at that point. He couldn't even come sit down for dinner.

And when he left to do his patrols as Batman, Alvin pounced on the opportunity to sneak out again. Needless to say, Bruce was not a happy billionaire, when he arrived back to find his adoptive son gone at such an unholy hour. He sat down on Alvin's bed to keep watch.

He was getting a little tired of waiting and more importantly of Alvin, namely his lying. The boy had said earlier that he was going with his group to the library to work on a project. He had murmured something about how the others were kind of intimidated by the Manor, blah, blah, blah, they all knew it was a lie.

Then, according to Alfred, the teen had disappeared into his room to do even more homework, after dinner. Bruce had assumed he'd stayed there until he had discovered otherwise.

He had thought to wait in the front hall, but then decided he would have a better chance of catching the kid if he waited in his room. Sure enough, the boy eventually crawled in the window, looking tired, disheveled and irritated.

"Ahem." Bruce cleared his throat, lounging sprawled across Alvin's bed.

"I had someone to talk to," Alvin said simply. He moved towards the wardrobe and pulled off his battered looking shirt. Then he began scrounging around for something to wear to sleep.

"It's five a.m. I've been here since three," Bruce pointed out. "Who could you possibly need to talk to at three a.m.?"

"Where were you at three a.m.?" Alvin shot back, sounding impatient.

Bruce hesitated. He had gone to great lengths to keep Alvin from having any knowledge of his psuedo-alter-ego.

"Working," he said finally.

"So was I," Alvin rejoined.

"I'm sure," Bruce wasn't to be fooled again. "How is that homework coming, by the way?"

He saw Alvin's mouth compress into a thin line. "I've got my coursework done for the next six months."

"Let me see it." Bruce narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "All of it."

The kid went over to the desk and pulled a large binder from one of the drawers. He held the heavy thing out to Bruce.

"It's all there. Organized by subject."

Bruce took the folder and stared at it for a moment.

"You're still in trouble for sneaking out in the middle of the night," he declared. He climbed off of Alvin's bed to go into his own study, and begin going sorting this crap. "I'll think of an appropriate punishment tomorrow."

Bruce was in over his head. He was definitely in over his head. No, really. What the hell was he supposed to do with this kid? How had the kid gotten all the assignments? That was a better question, and he added it to the growing list.

For now, all he could think to do was sit down and begin reading through the papers. He fell asleep at his desk doing about an hour later, and that was how Alfred found him the next morning.

Bruce was rousted for breakfast, but Alfred quickly caught on to the irritated looks that Bruce kept sending in Alvin's direction.

"Do you want me to go to school?" Alvin wondered unflappably from behind a glass of juice.

"School?" Bruce looked like he was about to reach the end of his rope. Alfred once again considered therapy. Bruce's agitation seemed to be growing progressively more explosive. "Do I want you to go to school?" Bruce let out an angry bark of laughter. "I want you to go to –" He cut himself off, under Alfred's stern look. His friend knew exactly what he had been about to say. "School," Bruce spat, standing up and leaving the dining hall promptly.

Alvin Draper-Haywood smirked. Alfred caught it and gave the boy a tacit look of confusion. Alvin just shook his head and headed for the door.

"See you after school," he called.

Alfred went to make sure Bruce hadn't hung himself out of sheer exasperation. He found the last Wayne muttering under his breath in, what Alfred was certain was, Chinese.

"Master Bruce?" the butler asked. He was scandalized by everyone's behaviour this morning.

"Yeah?" Bruce glanced up at him.

"Sir, is there some issue I should address with young master Alvin?" Alfred continued warily.

"He should to stop lying, stop sneaking out in the middle of the night. In general, he should stop being such an unpleasant person." Bruce listed off.

Alfred nearly smiled. Young Alvin and young Bruce had several bemusing similarities. "I would not fret, Master Bruce," Alfred soothed.

"Wandering around Gotham at three in the morning!" Bruce ranted. "Gonna get mugged, raped, or killed. You know, I think I saw him in drag. Yesterday, with Oliver." Perhaps, he was, as Rachel had so delicately put it, burning the candle at both ends. He collapsed down into the nearest chair, resting his face in his hands.

"I will talk to him when he returns home from school," Alfred promised. "For now, you do have a meeting with your board."

"Oh my God!" Bruce let out a strangled scream. He wasn't cut out to be Bruce-fucking-Wayne. He should just get his bat ears surgically attached and be done with it. Be Batman full time.

Alfred patted him on the shoulder, but that was the end of argument. He got Bruce into the shower, got him into a suit, and then got him out the door.

Bruce barely stayed awake through the meeting, and when it was over, he came home and went straight to sleep. Alfred, of course, was awake to greet Alvin as he had promised. The two had a small talk right there in the front hall, but Alfred did not get any further than Bruce.

Alvin retrieved his binder from Bruce's study and returned it to his own room. Then told Alfred that he would help with dinner so someone could keep an eye him.

Later, when Bruce heard this he shot the boy a truly frustrated look.

"The Haly Circus is coming in a few weeks," Alvin said in response to the glare.

Bruce rubbed his eyes. "You're not seriously expecting me to take you to the circus, after last night's fiasco?"

"I need to go, it's important," Alvin answered.

"Fill me in and I'll think about it," Bruce gave his condition. "Because I," he wasn't feeling any better and his tone came out snappish. "am determined to make this damn adoption work out! That means you have to quit acting like a guarded, spoiled brat, and be honest with me!" His tone had gotten louder and louder, and he was yelling. "I will not tolerate one more lie from you! I don't have the time to deal with this shit! If you like living here, you'll cut the crap and straighten up. Or, obviously, you don't live here anymore."

The kid looked honestly torn. "My name…No. Tell Batman he has to be there." Alvin declared, then got up and left.

Bruce stared after him. Well, that hadn't worked either. He was out of plans.

"I wasn't ready for this," he admitted. "Not ready to even be thinking about a child. Especially a child that doesn't like me, and isn't going to be of any use." He would happily settle for one or the other. Affection or usefulness, as of yet, Alvin had offered neither.

They heard the front door open and then close and Bruce cursed under his breath a few more times.

x x x x x

Dick did another twist and was caught up by his father's strong arms. The other acrobats cheered with tremendous enthusiasm. They'd been working on that move all day! Safely back on the ground, Dick's mother patted his shoulder.

"Good job, little robin," she congratulated and pressed a paper cup of water into his hands. He smiled at her and after drinking down the water declared he was starved. Then he rolled out of the tent. He made his way briskly to where Leila was cooking some grilled cheese sandwiches on her tiny portable grill.

He had already sidled up to flirt with her when he noticed she was already engaged. There was a small boy sitting in the tall grass beside her booth.

"Hi," he greeted. "I'm Dick." He was happy to see someone his age. He never got to just hang out with people his own age.

The boy looked up at him and smiled. "Hi Dick, I'm Tim," he offered. It felt ridiculous for him to say that. Tim knew who Dick was and would always hate the man for willfully going by that name.

"Nice to meet you," Dick beamed and sat down by them.

"I think Tim here wants to join the circus," Leila teased in her soft voice. Tim let a flush spread over his cheekbones.

"No, my dad…Jesus, he would be pissed."

"He can do some pretty nice moves, Dick. Not as nice as you, of course," she soothed.

"Is your dad here?" Dick glanced around, seeking out any unfamiliar faces.

"No, thank god," Tim was grinning and Dick really couldn't help but grin back. He elbowed the kid.

"You'll be at the show this weekend, won't you?" he said, flirting shamelessly like he did with every person under the sun.

"With any luck," Tim nodded. Leila leaned over the wooden stall to watch them.

"You should get him a couple tickets, Dick," she suggested.

"Yeah." Dick agreed. He jumped back up to find some. He knew there was an extra roll stashed somewhere.

He had to be very sneaky about getting them out of Haly's desk drawer, but he did return with about four little red tickets.

"Right, you've got no excuse not to come now," Dick said, pressing them into Tim's hand and holding it there, lingering for a moment.

"I might be grounded," Tim pointed out, his lips curving sardonically.

"Sneak out then," Dick crowed. He grabbed Tim's wrist and hauled him up. "Now, I want to see these skills you have, personally."

Tim allowed himself to blush again and then tentatively went into a series of rolls and jumps. He was nowhere near as graceful or flexible as Dick, but he could execute the moves.

Dick was impressed enough, apparently. He came over and grabbed Tim by the waist, twirling him around and giving him great acclaim. Dick was happy. Friendly. Open. In a way Tim had never seen; he smiled and felt the weight of this world settle onto his soul, suffocating him.

Dick grinned for him, and turned as someone called him. Waving, he ran off again.

x x x x x

Tim went home that afternoon. Home to the Drake's house. He sat on the curb in front and watched as the Drake's boy played by himself in the driveway. Janet and Jack wouldn't be home from their travels until later that afternoon and Mrs. Mac was inside reading a magazine.

Tim jumped when a familiar car rolled to a halt in front of him. Bruce had found him faster than he'd expected.

"Come on, Alvin," Bruce's shout was pithy. Tim dusted off his jeans and got into the car, ignoring Mr. Wayne's scowl.

Bruce said nothing more, once he was in the car. Bruce was upfront with Alfred, instead of in the back seat. It was clear that he had already giving up all hope for a warm-and-fuzzy relationship.

"I have tickets to the circus," Tim murmured. He'd given up hope on Bruce by now too, though. This Bruce was too young and inexperienced.

"And?" Bruce glanced back in his direction. "You've given me no reason to reward you."

"It isn't about me," Tim tried to explain for the millionth time. But he couldn't do it. Not without flat out saying what was going on and he couldn't do that. Not until he had proof. Which he didn't have. He'd been sneaking out for weeks trying to find fucking proof and he hadn't found it! He cursed and thought about Dick, how he'd smiled.

Bruce turned away from him again. He seemed so desperate to get there.

"We'll see how you behave," he decided.

"I haven't actually done anything wrong," Tim pointed out.

"You were out at three in the morning," Bruce responded back. "I say that's wrong."

"So were you," Tim shrugged.

"My situation was entirely different."

"I know all about your situation, Bruce," Tim growled under his breath and got out of the car quickly, when they arrived at the Manor. He had two days to prove himself worthy of going to a fucking circus. It would have seemed really stupid if Tim didn't know what was at stake.

"No…" Bruce whispered as he got out and walked past. "You don't."


To Be Continued...