Gifts From the Sea, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo
Chapter 41 - The Titans (part 1) [rough draft 2]
Days passed. Dick continued to act hostile toward Bruce, though there were times when their interaction was almost normal until Dick remembered he was angry and got belligerent again. Starfire continued to take his side until she caught Bruce showing Tim pictures of Dick on his phone, explaining the context and stories behind each one. She watched until Tim got bored and crawled off, and after that, though she continued to stick with her boyfriend, her demeanor toward Bruce grew neutral.
It soon became clear that Kid Flash ate a lot, which made sense - the amount of energy he expended required a lot of fuel. Bruce was a terrible cook and couldn't really feed him, but he did start looking up nutritious, tasty recipes for the boy and amended the instructions to be able to produce much larger serving sizes. He would sit in the kitchen and listen to the speedster chatter while he cooked, and soon found out that the boy's real name was Wally and that he was a relative of The Flash. Bruce would have to ask Barry about it the next time he saw him.
Bruce started including vegan dishes in his recipe hunts when he found out that Beast Boy, whose real name turned out to be Garfield, did not consume animal products. The shapeshifter warmed up to him quickly as well, often cuddling up to him in various animal forms to be petted and having discussions with him about the Wayne Foods subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises. Bruce even took notes to pass on to the executives whenever he next had a chance.
Wonder Girl, a.k.a. Donna Troy, was refreshingly neutral and mature around Bruce as well; Raven was similar except that she retained a strong air of mystique. "Richard loves you still," the latter informed Bruce solemnly. "It pains him to see you and be reminded of past trauma, but it would hurt him even more if you left."
"I have no intention of leaving."
"Good."
Aqualad was fascinated by and respectful toward Tim, but the feeling did not seem to be mutual. The octo-mer was not particularly friendly to anyone but Goliath and Cyborg - he seemed to be fascinated by the older teen's silver shine and whirring mechanics. Cyborg (Bruce still hadn't figured out their gender yet) was wary and tended to stay out of Bruce's way. They didn't seem to know how to respond to Tim, mostly ignoring him and letting the mer explore.
Raptor, on the other hand, was rather interested in Tim, but in a sullen, hostile way. He kept throwing verbal potshots at the mer and threw a fit every time he discovered that Tim had gotten into his things. The boys developed some animosity toward each other - Tim did not like Raptor but uncharacteristically tended to provoke rather than avoid him - so Bruce did his best to keep them apart. It was difficult, since he kept finding Raptor at his elbow, making entitled demands or firing off interrogations.
"Tell me the story of how you defeated your most notable enemy."
Bruce squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was being sarcastic. The boy looked dead serious, however, as if he expected Bruce to be some sort of renowned warrior as a matter of course. "Well...back in college, I defeated Steven Tang. That was an interesting match." He told the story as best he could while trying to distract Tim away from a container of Raptor's paintbrushes. He was careful not to specify that it had been a formal martial arts tournament rather than a real battle.
"I knew it," Raptor said gleefully at the end, "I knew you would be victorious! Grandfather will have only the best. My mother chose well."
Bruce was about to ask how Raptor's mother had anything to do with him, but then noticed that Tim had managed to open some jars and lunged before the little octo-mer could spill paint all over the floor of Raptor's art studio.
"Keep your creature under control!"
"He's curious," Bruce grunted, wrestling with what felt like a dozen tentacles to get one of the lids back as he tried to push the open can away with his foot without tipping it over. Tim's stubborn tendency to get into everything could certainly be annoying, but Bruce didn't like the other boy's disgusted tone. "He's an octo-mer, he can split his attention a lot better than we can." Though he stated it as fact, it was more of an educated guess based on Bruce's observations. "He needs a lot of stimulation so he doesn't get bored."
"Hmph. He's still ill-mannered. The League would not have tolerated such behavior, he'd have been punished for being messy and distractible."
"He's a child." Bruce finally succeeded in occupying the last of the tentacles with toys from his pockets.
Tim, displeased at being deprived of what he'd been examining, signed "You are annoying" at Bruce and then moved to start braiding his hair. Bruce allowed it, relieved at the cessation of destruction.
He turned his attention back to Raptor. "Children are supposed to be messy and curious," he continued. "Did...someone ever punish you for that sort of thing?"
"Of course. How else would I have learned proper behavior? You would have done the same, had you raised me," Raptor snapped.
"No. I would have had you help clean it up and then redirected you into a more productive activity."
"...Tell me of another of your conquests," Damian finally demanded suspiciously, as if Bruce's positive disciplinary style somehow negated his ability to win fights.
Bruce sighed and began telling another story from his college days.
o.o.o
The semi-nocturnal sleep schedule from the voyage turned out to be a boon, because the Teen Titans lived up to their name and kept a similar schedule. Although there were a few early risers, most of the Titans tended to stay up late and sleep in late, and they liked to patrol the city at night (unless they decided they'd rather stay in for a pizza party and a movie or video game marathon).
It was quiet as Bruce stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for Wally and Gar. (The results weren't pretty, but they tasted fine, and he was better at knife work than he was at other parts of cooking.) The suitcase sat next to him with Tim still asleep inside.
Bruce had almost finished filling the first container when Cyborg stumbled into the kitchen, grunted in surprise when he caught sight of Bruce, and backed up a step. It was the first time Bruce had seen the teen without a hoodie; Cyborg currently wasn't wearing anything except a pair of shorts. The young man's face - the flesh half of it, anyway - changed color and he self-consciously raised a hand to cover the artificial half, as if the metal didn't continue on down most of the rest of his body.
"Good morning," Bruce said, politely looking away again.
"...Mornin'," Cyborg finally mumbled after a long pause.
"You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep..."
"Neither could I, to tell the truth." Bruce kept working. Cyborg finally ventured closer, his metal feet clinking against the floor. The suitcase bulged as Tim shifted inside, then the zippers parted and the mer peered out.
Cyborg paused again and stared at him. Tim pushed the gap wider and snaked out a few tentacles. They weren't long enough to fully bridge the gap and, comically, they stayed outstretched and waving in frustration as Cyborg edged around them on his way to the refrigerator.
"Sorry about him," Bruce apologized, tugging the suitcase around to his other side. The tentacles wriggled madly for a moment, smacking him in punishment, then withdrew as Tim prepared to emerge fully from the suitcase. Bruce swiftly zipped it up before he could, pulled out the infrequently-used straps, and slung the suitcase over his shoulders. Tim went still for a disconcerted moment, then worked the zippers down to the bottom and then open. Oily liquid started dribbling out of the suitcase and all over Bruce, who dropped the knife and struggled to catch Tim before he could drop all the way out and resume his quest to pester Cyborg.
"Sorry," Bruce apologized to the older boy again as he grappled.
Cyborg huffed out a scoffing sort of laugh. " 'S cool, man. Kids like shiny new toys."
"He doesn't see you as a toy," Bruce objected, but then paused. Tim didn't really respond to people as if they were anything other than potential threats or curiosities to examine. Even Bruce, the only person Tim ever treated with anything resembling affection, was the majority of the time either just getting in Tim's way or providing for his needs. Bruce wondered if the octo-mer was simply too alien to express care for others in a way humans could easily interpret, or if Tim really didn't recognize others' personhood. "He's just...poorly socialized."
He snapped his fingers in front of Tim's face to demand his attention and then signed, "He doesn't like it when you touch him without permission. It makes him uncomfortable."
Tim went still for a minute. "He doesn't like me."
Bruce blinked. Maybe he'd been totally wrong and Tim just didn't like people other than Bruce and Cyborg.
The octo-mer was already disappearing into the suitcase. "Wait!" Bruce cried. "Wait, Tim, he-!" Except Cyborg had never really expressed that he liked Tim. He'd only ever been uncomfortable and tolerant. "He doesn't...dislike you..." Bruce looked unhappily at the now still and tightly-zipped suitcase. There was only silence from within, which was a bad sign. The only times Tim went completely still were when he was asleep, extremely interested in something, hiding, or unhappy in a depressed way.
"He thinks I don't like him?" Cyborg said, startled.
"I don't- Conversation is hard sometimes." Bruce looked at him cautiously. "Do you dislike him?"
Cyborg shifted uncomfortably. "He's...I mean he's cute, just...I'm, you know."
Bruce cocked his head. "No, I don't know."
Cyborg fidgeted again. "I'm...a machine. He's so...tiny and squishy, and I still don't even know how half this crap works." He looked disgusted as he shook the arm that sometimes turned into a gun. "I don't wanna hurt him or anything by accident."
Bruce sagged a little in relief. "You won't hurt him. Come here, let me teach you some things to sign. I don't want him to be sad anymore."
He gave Cyborg an ASL lesson, then grabbed a set of measuring spoons and sat down by the suitcase. As he unzipped it, Cyborg awkwardly sat down nearby. Tim pulled the blanket over his head, but when Bruce started shaking and jingling the measuring spoons, he peered out again. "Now," Bruce murmured.
"Hey, so," Cyborg mumbled, then signed hesitantly, "I like you."
Tim studied him warily, tentacles working at his fidgets in a flurry of movement as he considered this.
"I am...a machine?" Cyborg glanced at Bruce, who taught him, "I have machine parts. So...you have to be careful around me little guy. Okay?"
"He is shy and nervous because he doesn't want to hurt you," Bruce clarified silently. "You should be safe if you keep your limbs away from his joints and his guns and his-" He didn't know the ASL for 'exhaust ports,' so he pointed at the backs of Cyborg's calves where the ports in question were.
Tim, watching Cyborg from the corner of his eye, emerged slowly and poked at the closest metal arm. He looked at Cyborg, who looked back. He poked again, and when nothing alarming happened, a tentacle wrapped around the mechanical limb and drew it closer. Tim grasped one of the metal fingertips and pushed. He grew fascinated enough to abandon most of his fidgets as he curled Cyborg's fingers in and out, marveling at the tiny, perfectly-formed joints. Cyborg moved his other hand over and, looking just as fascinated, gently ran a fingertip across the rubbery tentacle.
"Do you have something better to call you than 'Cyborg'?" Bruce asked quietly.
The teen sighed. "Vic. Or, Victor... Most people call me Vic, though."
"It's nice to meet you, Vic."
Vic gave a small, crooked smile. "Yeah." Then his smile faded and he looked around the room. "This is so surreal... It's like - a totally different world here." He gestured vaguely at the city in the distance. "Out there, people'd scream if they caught a glimpse of my freakishness." He tapped at his glowing red eye. "But here, with these guys, it's like whatever. No one cares. And maybe it's because most of 'em are freaks, too; but then you come along and you're a normie but you treat me the same as the Titans do..." He grinned again, a little more strongly this time. "Though I guess you're not exactly normal, either, with all your sea creature kids."
"I care about them so much," Bruce murmured, watching Tim, "but I make...so many mistakes, and sometimes I wonder if they would have been better off without me."
There was a long silence, and he finally realized that Vic was staring. "What is it?"
"Just...thinking about my dad."
"Where are your parents?" Bruce asked, ever-conscious of all these kids who surely had to have someone worried about them, right? Not all of them belonged to members of the Justice League.
Vic scoffed and shook his head. "Mom's gone. Dad might as well be; he didn't give a sh-" He glanced at Tim. "-a flip about me until I was freaking dying, and then I just became his pet science experiment. It was the last straw, so I left." He sighed. "Just...wondering if he regrets it, like you do. Or if he really is as bad as I remember and I would've been better off with someone like you for a dad." He fidgeted. "Or something. Not you, specifically. Just-"
"I'm Dick's dad, and...and Tim's." Bruce swallowed at the painful admission of true responsibility to Tim, and the agony of potentially losing him. "The rest of you are good kids, but I'm not going to force myself where I'm not wanted, or try to take on more responsibility when I'm clearly failing at what I've already got." He looked at Vic. "For what it's worth, though, I'm glad you found a place where you're accepted. Whatever happened with your father, it didn't stop you from growing up well."
Vic blushed again and looked down. "Thanks..."
Tim finally lost interest and crawled completely out of the suitcase, so Bruce set him up with a puzzle before resuming work on the vegetables he'd been chopping.
TBC
