"I give you chance after chance, and all you ever do is fail. You're a disgrace! An embarrassment! Pathetic excuse for a son."
The words cycled through Tim's head as he made his way up the driveway to Wayne manor. His parents had come home early from their latest expedition and, as he'd been out patrolling until about five a.m. the night before and hadn't expected them home for another four days, he had been asleep when they landed.
Meaning he had missed their texts and calls.
And had thus failed to clean the house before they had gotten home.
Since he spent most of his time at the Wayne manor when they were gone, and Mrs. Mac handled the general upkeep, there hadn't really been much mess.
Just, maybe a few dishes in the sink from dinner. He had promised Alfred he would take better care of himself.
And he had left his jacket draped over the back of the couch in the sitting room, which had terribly embarrassed his poor mother. Their driver had had the misfortune of seeing the sorry state of their house when he had brought their bags in, and all the while, Tim had been peacefully sleeping upstairs.
Nevermind the fact that he had only gotten off patrol three hours before. He normally would have slept over at the manor, but dealing with the Riddler all night long had left him with a bad headache and he hadn't been in the mood to risk being woken up by one of the other vigilantes.
His parents had been furious.
Tim reached the front door and paused. It was still early. He knew that most everyone would still be asleep, but he… he couldn't be at home at the moment.
Maybe he could help Alfred in the kitchen, or just curl up in Bruce's office for a bit. Just until someone else woke up.
Taking a few deep breaths to school his expression before putting his key in the lock, he opened the door and slipped inside.
The manor was silent, and he wasn't interrupted on his way to Bruce's ground floor office. This one was mainly just used for a quiet place to study for the kids, but they all still referred to it as Bruce's office. Tim wasn't exactly sure why. This had been going on since before he had become Robin.
Head still sore, he sighed and sank down into the window seat. He tried to think about anything else. Anything other than his father's words.
His mother's disappointment.
The fact that, even after a few years, he still felt like an outsider at Wayne manor. Sure, he had his own room. He spent most of his time there. But, at the end of the day, there were the Wayne manor residents, and then there were the guests. Those who had other places to stay, other homes, other families to return to.
Of course, they were all welcome at the manor. That just came with being one of the bats. But for them, for him, the manor was home to the Wayne family. It was the main safehouse. Home base.
It was for work, for recovery, for team bonding nights and visiting.
Not for home.
No matter how much he pretended, on the nights he stayed. No matter how lost in the fantasy of a loving family, HIS family, he let himself get, Tim always knew that this was just… visiting.
He was a Drake.
Drakes had a reputation to uphold.
And, deep down, he was also well aware that the only reason his parents had agreed to let him stay with Bruce whenever they were abroad was the fact that Bruce was the wealthiest man in Gotham, and they saw an opportunity to make a connection.
"Tim?"
Dick, wearing sweats and his Superman hoodie, stood in the doorway. His hair was sticking up at all angles like he'd just rolled out of bed and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, like he wasn't sure if he was seeing things.
"I thought you went home?"
Tim shrugged. "I tried. I, um, I'd rather be here, though. At the moment."
Dick frowned. "Everything okay?"
Tim automatically opened his mouth to give his typical 'I'm fine,' response, but found the words just… weren't there this time.
He closed his mouth again.
"What are you doing up?" He asked instead.
Dick leaned against the doorway, resting his hands in his hoodie pocket. "Bruised a few ribs on patrol. Kinda hard to sleep after that, so I decided to just see if tea might help."
Tim winced in sympathy, knowing how bad bruised ribs hurt.
The boys lapsed into a momentary silence, neither one quite awake enough to carry much of a conversation.
"Well, try to get some sleep, alright? I'll see you at breakfast."
Dick turned to walk away, and Tim suddenly found himself standing from the window seat.
"Dick, wait!"
"Hmm? Tim?" Dick half-turned back.
Tim stopped before he'd taken more than a few steps. "Can I ask…" he hesitated.
This was stupid.
This was childish.
Dick had even just said he had bruised ribs.
"Timmy. We train together. We fight together. We practically live together. You don't need to keep being so formal. Just ask."
Tim observed his socks.
He'd been trained out of asking when he was a small child, but he was tired. And sore. And frustrated. And his headache was just getting worse.
So he let himself be weak.
He let himself be vulnerable.
Because maybe Dick would say no, but… maybe he'd say yes.
And Tim really hoped he'd say yes.
"I just…" he sighed, shoulders dropping. "I just had a really bad night. Do you think I could maybe get a hug?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, he closed his eyes.
Of course, he knew Dick wouldn't be mean about it, but still. He knew a rejection was coming. He was almost seventeen, after all-,
"Oh, Timmy."
He'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't even heard Dick walking over. Hadn't even known the man had moved until he felt the arms wrap around him and hold him close.
It was loose, Dick didn't want to put pressure on his chest, but secure. Warm.
Safe.
Vision blurring unexpectedly, Tim leaned his head on his brother's shoulder. He brought his own hands up and returned the hug.
"I've got you. You're okay."
Tim heard the words whispered into the top of his head and felt his breath stutter as he rapidly melted into choked sobs.
His fingers gripped the soft material of the blue hoodie and he could feel long fingers card through his hair.
He didn't know how long they stood there, but Dick just held him. He held him and kept talking, letting Tim calm down when he was ready.
He didn't roll his eyes.
He didn't complain.
He didn't tell Tim to grow up.
What he did do, though, was guide the two of them back over to the window seat when Tim seemed like he was ready to move, and slowly lowered himself and his brother down to sit.
He didn't let go.
"Would you like to tell me what happened?" Dick finally asked once he had devolved into silence.
"My parents came home early from their trip."
Oh, no.
"I was asleep, and since I was too tired from patrol, I just left a mess when I'd gotten in."
"They got mad at you? What did they say?"
"Nothing I haven't heard a hundred times. It's just… I know we don't do this for recognition or anything, but it's just frustrating knowing that I spent all night making this city safe for them, and then got woken up so they can tell me exactly how useless I am to them. But you know what bothers me most?"
"What?"
"The fact that, even if I did tell them that I'm Red Robin, that wouldn't change how they see me. In fact, they'd probably be more disappointed in me."
Dick shifted slightly, adjusting how he was holding Tim to better suit his ribs. "You're not useless, Tim. And no matter what your parents say, you're a hero. Everyone here knows that."
Tim didn't respond right away. But he did pull back out of the embrace.
"Tim?"
Dick couldn't quite read the expression on Tim's face, but he looked… thoughtful. Almost amused.
Finally, though, he looked away and shook his head slowly. "Sometimes it just hits me how different you and I are. I mean, we're both the first sons of some of the richest people around, we both ended up as Robins, but that's about where our similarities end."
"I think we have more in common than-,"
"Why don't you work at Wayne Enterprises?"
Dick blinked. That… that had never been a path he'd wanted to take. He and Bruce had talked about it, sure, but he'd always been clear that a corporate job wasn't something he could see himself doing for any real length of time.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you becoming a cop wasn't met with threats of disownment?"
"No. Bruce made me promise to keep an eye on my mental health, since it makes me a crime fighter by day and night, but other than that he's proud of me."
Tim nodded, as if he had heard the exact answer he had anticipated. "I was told by my parents that if they ever see that I'm following in your footsteps, I'll be banned from coming back here. They'll send me to a boarding school somewhere far away."
Wait, what? Why had Dick not heard this before?
"I mean, I'm not going to let that happen, of course. I've got contingencies in place. But my point is; when Bruce adopted you, it was because he wanted you. He wanted you to have a good life, and knew he could give you that. Me?" Tim scoffed. "Having me was a business decision. And that's not me being self deprecating. That's literally the reason they had me. People tend to be more willing to trust a 'family' business, but in order to be listed as one, my parents needed me. So they had me. And since I was born for the job, it's just expected that I'll take over when I'm old enough. You see family idealistically, because you were allowed to. For me, it's more… contractually. If they see me as useless to the business, then I become useless to them. With Bruce and, I'm guessing, your bio parents, the job and you are two completely separate things."
Dick let Tim vent, knowing it was what he needed. He didn't interrupt. Didn't cut him off with some insistence that he was wrong. He just waited. Waited and listened.
Because sometimes that was all he could offer.
And, sometimes, that was all that was needed.
When Tim finished, Dick held out his arms, welcoming the teen to melt back into his embrace.
"If you ever, and I mean ever, feel like you need a hug, or even just attention, or… anything, you come find me. Yeah?"
"... yeah…"
"Tim?"
"Yeah, I'm listening. My head just really hurts."
"Alright, come on. Let's get you back to bed." Dick extricated himself from the hug and stood, guiding Tim to his feet as well.
"No. The sun's already up. It's too late to be heading to bed now." Tim tried to sit back down on the window seat, but Dick, despite his ribs, was stronger than he looked and snaked an arm around Tim's back, holding him in place.
"Here's the thing, Timmy. We both got off patrol at around the same time, and I know that I only had enough time to debrief, get medical attention, and watch a movie. That doesn't add up to you getting very much sleep at all. And how long have you had a headache?"
Tim didn't want to answer, but he knew how stubborn Dick could be and wasn't in the mood at all to deal with that. "It's not from a head injury. It's just… dealing with Ridder all night. Like, all night."
Dick hummed and ran his fingers through Tim's hair again. "Well, buddy, I've got two options for you, then."
Options? Dick was negotiating? He could work with this.
"One, you're sleep deprived and are going to bed right now. No alarm. No phone. No devices of any kind. You will sleep until you wake up on your own. Because I don't know how long you've been awake for, but I do know you need more sleep than you've been getting." He said the last bit with a frown, letting Tim know he was being serious.
Tim just sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Do you want to know how I know you're sleep deprived?"
"... Fine. How?"
"Because the Tim Drake I know would rather bite off a finger than reveal anything about his personal life."
Tim froze. He… wasn't wrong. Tim had needed to vent, but when he'd started talking, he hadn't been able to stop. He hadn't meant to…
He knew what the Wayne's thought of his home life. Of his family. He'd asked Bruce and the others to mind their business and not pry into his life outside the mask, but then he'd just gone and dumped all that on Dick.
Shaking his head, he gave Dick a light shove, just enough to get away from his arm. "Maybe I just felt like sharing. What's my other option?"
Dick shrugged. "The other option is I wake up Damien, hand him a tranq and let him hunt you for sport. Either way, you're going to sleep."
Tim growled, grumbled under his breath, and hunched his shoulders, but allowed Dick to lead him by the arm upstairs to the room he'd been given a few years back.
The blackout curtains were drawn, making it almost entirely dark. The blankets he'd layered on the bed looked warm and cozy. Just walking into the room made him feel more tired than he'd liked to admit, but then Dick flopped down onto the bed first, pulling Tim down with him.
"What are you doing?"
"Sleeping. Unless you want me to go back to my own room." Dick opened an eye to glance at him.
"... No. It's okay. I think I… don't really want to be alone right now, anyway." Tim finally decided.
Dick sighed and sank back into a pillow, one arm draped over Tim.
"You know, you don't need to be useful to be loved. It's not some sort of messed up prerequisite-,"
"Dick. Stop. I don't want to talk about it." Tim mumbled. He didn't want to admit that he was more tired than he had realized, but he was already drifting off.
"Then… let me just say one last thing. Okay? Then I'll drop it."
Tim didn't protest.
"I don't think my views on family are that idealistic. If two people decide to have a kid, it should be expected that the kid gets to grow up without being called things like 'useless'-,"
"Stop. Different people have different reasons for having kids. I was born for the good of the company. When I say you have an idealistic view on families, I mean you never experienced that. Bruce lost his family in his formative years. He saw an opportunity to give you, and then others, the family he'd always wanted. He'd inherited a well established company, which meant he didn't have to build Wayne Enterprises from the ground up. But he got to build himself an entire family. He never had a reason to blend the two."
"Tim, is taking over your parents company what you want to do with your life? Because it sounds like you've just accepted that you get no choice in the matter. You weren't born to be an employee, you know."
"I was, actually."
Dick pushed himself up on one arm. Tim… didn't look like he was joking. He looked annoyed, maybe a bit sad, and definitely tired. But he didn't look like he was exaggerating.
"What do you mean?"
Tim bit his lip, knowing he'd said too much but not knowing how to back out.
"I turn eighteen in just over a year. A while ago I was going through some of my old paperwork, like from back when I was born, just to be sure I had everything in order. I… I found a folder." Tim sat up, now eye level with his brother. "They consulted a few lawyers, trying to figure out a way to claim some sort of tax break for me, since they wanted my birth and childcare expenses counted as a business expense."
"They what..?" Dick had never heard of such a thing. What kind of people-,
No.
Over the years, he'd seen enough… bad situations. Negligence. Neglect. Abuse.
Jason's mother had sold him to the Joker.
Damien's mother was an assassin who routinely sent trained killers after her son.
Dick had always known that Tim's parents weren't great. Hell, they were gone so often that Tim spent more time at the manor than at his own house.
But to hear that they'd never even wanted him? But then planned for him to just… devote his life to their work?
"Look, it's not like I grew up to be some blind puppet. I don't live in any kind of illusion that they're going to come to my skateboarding competitions or anything. I know it might sound bad to you but this is just… my normal. I'm used to it. I've never really known anything else."
"Tim, you have to know that that's not a normal reason to have a kid."
"Dick, can we not. Please?" Tim couldn't keep the whine out of his voice. His head hurt and he had just gotten comfortable. "I just want to go to sleep."
Dick frowned, concern etched into every line on his face, but he sighed and lowered himself back down. "Alright. Let's go to sleep."
He stretched out on his side and raised an arm straight up in the air. Tim closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, but still curled right up with Dick, letting the arm drape over him again.
He had to admit, having someone around when he was feeling lousy was something he'd grown to love. And he knew, not thought but knew, that no matter how late he slept, Alfred and Bruce would never wake him up to scold him for sleeping.
And, while he also knew that he and Dick would be revisiting their conversation the next day, he felt himself relax. The warmth of another person so close, the feeling of being allowed to show his weaknesses without having them be thrown back in his face as flaws and faults…
Tim felt safe.
He felt exhausted.
And, finally, he felt his eyes slip shut as he drifted off to sleep.
Dick wasn't quite as tired, and stayed up for another little while, just watching Tim sleep.
He couldn't see how someone, anyone, could look at their kid and see profit, or a means to an end. And his stomach twisted at the thought that that was how his brother had been raised.
Jack and Janet had no idea the person they were missing out on seeing grow up. They would never get to see the confidant grin Tim always got when he managed to crack a new code or riddle. They would never hear the snarky taunts he threw out when someone got him annoyed, or the way he laughed in victory when taking down a difficult sparring partner.
But Dick would. He looked down at Tim's face and held him a bit closer. If Tim's parents didn't want to see Tim as the goofy, intelligent, stubborn kid that he was, then Dick would. He'd be there for Tim, because that's what family did.
And Tim was family.
His family.
Screw Jack and Janet Drake.