Author's Note: Bruce walks in on a naked Tim and has to deal with the fallout. Something a little lighter in this series than the usual fare and hopefully of similar quality to previous instalments. Takes place approximately four months after the last chapter. Enjoy.

Naked

I awake late on Sunday morning, around ten-thirty. The previous evening's patrol proved unusually taxing with Pamela Isley's impromptu appearance. It seems Tim and I inadvertently stumbled across her latest preparations whilst pursuing gunrunners through the Botanical Gardens. The building had been derelict for almost two years and was assumed to be utilised for a weapons cache only. All surveillance and previous intelligence reports corroborated such a viewpoint. However, upon witnessing all four of our gunrunners fall victim to a mutant strain of nightshade plants that not only secreted vast amounts of poison but also had a taste for human flesh, we understood our mistake.

Fortunately, none of the plants were fully grown and a quick bout of fire and ice, courtesy of Firefly and Victor Fries' technology, eliminated what would have been the latest threat to the city. Ms Isley was on form with her tirades and recriminations against both myself and the GCPD as they returned her to Arkham. The boy even found himself agreeing with some of her more environmentally sound statements, as did I. Still, it was a lucky break and one I do not intend to repeat. Intelligence must be scrutinised better in future. Had her latest batch been permitted another month for gestation, the whole of Gotham could have become a mass graveyard. I should inform Tim of my intentions. Due to the lateness of our return, the boy stayed the night. I was secretly pleased.

I get up, shower, shave and dress before heading to the boy's room. The door is fully open, a habit indicating he has gone downstairs. No matter. His absence allows me a moment to check whether the guest room's radiator can be fixed easily or will require Alfred's more skilled hands. The boy has been complaining it is too hot in the room during his last few stays. Suggestions of changing rooms have not been met well. It appears he likes this room above the others regardless of its heating problems. I round the door and eye the radiator against the far wall only for my eyes to meet something else on the journey across the room. Tim is not downstairs. He is stood by the bed. Judging by the total absence of clothing and wet hair, I would assume he has just had a shower. His eyes met mine and widen in shock. He instinctively shields his crotch with his hands, crouching down slightly as he does so. I say nothing. I simply turn around and leave. I have had better timing.

I reason out the scenario in my head whilst standing just to the side of his door. In the three seconds I saw the room, I noted all windows were open as well as the door. This indicates the heating problem is getting worse and explains his decision to leave the door open. I imagine judging by the raised nature of his skin, the shower he had was cold to further reduce the problem. I noticed…other things, but they are not relevant to the current situation.

"Tim?" I call. There is an awkward silence.

"Yeah?"

"I will have Alfred fix the radiator this afternoon." Another silence.

"Okay. Thanks. Can you…close the door please?"

I do as requested and shut the door firmly before considering. "Have you had breakfast yet?" I call through the door.

"Not yet."

"Would you mind meeting me downstairs when you are suitably attired? I wish to discuss something with you."

"Okay. Give me five minutes?"

I go downstairs and into the kitchen where the old man is predictably plating up my preferred breakfast just as I walk in. Alfred smiles at me. "Good morning, Master Bruce. How did you sleep?" He inquires whilst scooping the last of my scrambled egg whites onto the fillet steaks.

"Fine thank you Alfred."

"Would you care to eat these in the dining room or at the breakfast bar?"

"The breakfast bar. Could you possibly spare some time this afternoon and fix Tim's radiator?" I ask taking a seat. The old man inclines his head.

"Certainly, Sir. Is Master Tim going to join you for breakfast? I believe I have his favourite right here…" Alfred says turning from putting down my plate to the stack of chocolate waffles with maple syrup also situated on the countertop.

"That is not a sensible or balanced breakfast for a teenager."

"Ah, I would wager there is not a fifteen-year-old boy in the world who would prefer your breakfast over this confectionery masterpiece. Besides which, concessions must be made for a job well done. Please correct me if I am wrong, Sir." Alfred offers with his usual faultless logic and theatrical prose. I sigh.

"The boy will be joining us shortly."

"I will infer from that I am correct in my judgment. Please tell me if you need anything else."

Tim enters the kitchen a few minutes later, now fully dressed but a little skittish in my presence. Alfred's friendly greeting alleviates unwanted tensions somewhat, as does his breakfast selection for the boy. Tim then sits opposite me at the bar and begins to eat without making eye contact with me. It is clear he is embarrassed by the incident. When he speaks to initiate conversation, he still avoids my eye.

"So what do you want to talk about?"

"It concerns our intelligence gathering in light of last night's…showpiece. It is my belief we were too complacent in gathering the initial information on the location. My analysis after patrol clearly showed its previous history as an Isley safe house. This, combined with her breakout of Arkham last month, should have been addressed. Our assumptions she had fled the country in favour of more accommodating climates in South America were mistaken. I think if we'd just checked flights more carefully…"

"How much did you see?" The boy asks to interrupt my monologue. He looks up at me from his waffles, which he is only picking at, and repeats his question. I immediately know he is not referring to our intelligence blunder. He was completely naked – I saw everything. I am certain he knows that too. I try to be diplomatic, especially when the old man is still washing up crockery nearby.

"I'm sorry, Tim. I should have knocked beforehand. It will not happen again."

"So you saw everything then?" He says, not only negating my attempt to sidestep the issue but also alerting Alfred to the incident. I shrug my shoulders, unsure of how to rescue the situation.

"Yes. In your state of undress, I had little other choice than to see everything." I tell him. The old man has left his dishes and drawn back to the breakfast bar.

"Oh my. What has happened this morning?" He asks. I open my mouth to explain the situation only for the boy to succinctly recap the issue.

"Bruce walked in on me after I'd taken a shower. And he stood there for a good five seconds looking." His tone is brusque and accusative. I do not like being cast in the role of the villain, not in my own home.

"It was barely three seconds and only done under a misconception that he was not present." I assure Alfred. The old man nods in understanding and then excuses himself from the room. I catch his eye before he disappears from the doorway, silently pleading for his assistance to diffuse the situation. He indicates he cannot help me. Apparently I must resolve this invasion of privacy on my own. I turn back to Tim who looks both angry and hurt by my intrusion.

"What do you want me to say Tim? I made a mistake and I have apologised for it. This is not a high school locker room: I will not now go around describing your body in detail to my colleagues at work or Alfred when I believe you are absent. I do not understand the problem."

"Bruce, I'm fifteen, okay? I'm already insecure about my body without having a guy like you, someone who's not only my mentor but effectively my boss, getting an eyeful of my shortcomings." I saw no shortcomings. Aside from a collection of ugly scars in intimate places, his body was perfectly normal for a boy his age, better even due to his conditioning and diet regimes. I am not sure how to express such an opinion without sounding…unsavoury.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Tim. If you feel you do, perhaps talking with your father might help?" I offer. Tim fidgets in his seat.

"It's not compared to other kids, Bruce. It's…compared to you." His face flushes slightly, even though he is the one admitting to contrasting his body against mine. I am growing increasingly out of my depth. During their tenures as Robin, I saw Dick and Jason naked many times due to injury, questionable sleeping habits and a plethora of other reasons and circumstances I imagine most fathers have experienced. While Jason had no modesty, Dick never openly discussed such matters with me, preferring Alfred's guidance on body issues. As a consequence, I have never been faced with a scenario such as this. It is made worse by the fact Tim is not my ward and does not view me as a father figure, merely a yardstick to measure himself against.

"I am to understand therefore that you have viewed me naked before?" His eyes drop back to his waffles and his face flushes darker.

"I'm not a voyeur, okay? It's just a few glances down in the cave after survival training, you know, when you use the showers and go up to the house?"

"Tim…"

"I'm sorry, okay? But, you're the Batman and everything I've seen…it makes me feel…just inadequate, you know?" He puts down his fork and puts his head in his hands. "Why? Why did I say that?" We sit in deathly quiet for almost four minutes. I was unaware my physique and natural genetics could have such a detrimental effect on the boy's self-esteem. I have no idea if such issues are commonplace with adolescents these days or not. Again I have no frame of reference.

"You are aware that you have a lot more growing to do before your adolescence concludes, aren't you? At fifteen, you are barely mid-way through your body and mind's most vital developments. At present, your height of five feet and five inches and weight of one-hundred-and thirty pounds is normal for a boy your age and will only increase with more time. Think of your father, how tall is he, how much does he weigh? " I say, hoping my tone is encouraging and not demanding. He sighs.

"I get where you're coming from." Tim says finally removing his face from his hands. "I guess I'm just paranoid you're always judging me, no matter what I'm doing, even getting dressed. Dick and Jason were just so much bigger than me at my age, so much more…like you. I feel like I'm letting the side down." He winces at me, "Think I'm nuts?"

"Absolutely. But there is nobody else I would want as Robin but you." I tell him with a smile. He musters a smile back. "But please, let's never have this conversation at breakfast again. You are a perfectly normal boy and we'll leave it at that. If you have any other concerns about your body whatsoever, talk to your father or Alfred if you are desperate, not to me." I consider a moment. "No more peeking in the showers either. Understood?" He inclines his head, graciously I think and resumes his breakfast.

"I'm happy with that. Anything else?"

"Yes, that scar over your left femoral artery, where did that originate?"

"Three seconds and you saw that?" Tim says with audible suspicion. I shrug.

"Do you want to know what else I saw or just answer the question and drop the matter?"

"I fell through a greenhouse when I was seven, sliced it open and almost bled to death right there on the tomatoes." He says bluntly. I nod whilst returning to my steak and eggs.

"I see."

"Happy you saw now?" He asks swallowing another mouthful of pancake. No wonder he was sensitive about his body. I offer another shrug.

"It's enlightening if nothing else. Anything you wish to ask me?"

"The C-shaped scar on your ass?"

"A boomerang with a sharpened outer edge." I answer without hesitation. He nods before grinning.

"This is fun. Can I ask another one?" He inquires devouring another mouthful and seems fully engrossed in the conversation. It appears I am not the only one with a superior memory for embarrassing marks. I smile at him genially.

"By all means."

"Okay…the mark like kind of looks like a shark on your hip…"