Chapter Text
Tim dodged a kick to his face, so nearly fumbling enough that he could feel the air brush past his cheek. He smiled at the adrenaline rush. Tim sent an attack of his own, only mildly catching his opponent off guard.
Sparring with Damian was exciting at the very least. It certainly sparked a competitive flare within him, especially considering he was facing someone far younger than him yet at an outstanding level. Not that he would ever admit that to Damian’s face. The brat was cocky enough as it was.
Damian scoffed as he missed another hit. “You are six years older than me yet your skill level is pathetic.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, demon brat.”
“Ugh,” Damian groaned. “You sound like Todd.”
“At least I act my age,” Tim remarked, landing a hit on Damian’s jaw.
The kid reeled back for no more than a few seconds before dealing out a kick just as hard. “I act exactly how I am supposed to act. Someone of my age acting so childish disgusts me.”
“You’re ten,” Tim drawled.
“ Disgusts me ,” Damian reiterated.
Just as Tim planned to serve a finishing blow, a stoic voice boomed across the cave walls. It sent goosebumps up his arms.
“Boys,” Bruce grounded out, anger lacing his tone.
They both froze, ending the spar instantly. Tim at least had the decency to meet Bruce’s eyes, unlike Damian. However, their guilt was all the same.
“You are supposed to be resting, Tim,” Bruce scolded.
“I’m fine,” Tim said, wincing at the disappointed look on the man’s face.
“You have had an extremely stressful couple of days. Pushing yourself is the opposite of what you should be doing.”
Tim hung his head low, accepting defeat. “Sorry.”
“And, Damian,” Bruce began, directing the fire toward his son. “You should not be fuelling Tim’s behaviour. You know better than that. If you want to spar, Dick would love to.”
Damian looked anything but happy at the idea but kept his mouth shut. A palpable silence covered them like a suffocating blanket, trapping them in each other's company with no escape. Tim at least tried to look more guilty than frustrated. Everyone but Damian was treating him as if he was glass seconds away from shattering. It annoyed Tim to no end.
Bruce broke the silence with a deep sigh. “Dick wants to watch a movie before Jason goes.”
Tim paused at the statement, trying to decipher what he was asked to do. Was this an invitation? Was this a way of telling Tim to go to bed and stay in there until the morning?
Damian seemed to have no problem, immediately making his way up the stairs. Bruce left as well, leaving Tim to trail after them like a lost duckling. When they arrived at the movie room (Tim was frankly astonished at the fact that it existed) there were already bowls of popcorn and an excited Dick Grayson. Jason looked neutral. He was obviously doing this for his brother.
“Finally,” Dick grumbled. “Come here, little D!” Dick exclaimed, patting the spot next to him. Damian dragged his feet over, face blank at the instant hug from his brother.
Tim sat in between Bruce and Jason. He was overcome with a sense of safety despite being an assassin. It was odd trusting someone enough to be on guard for you but at the same time, he had never felt more relaxed. For once, Tim didn’t have eyes on the back of his head.
“Have you seen this movie, Tim?” Dick asked.
Tim took the time to gaze up at the TV. A pit formed in his stomach. No, he hadn’t. The last movie he saw was when he was nine years old.
“I think this movie came out when I was already with the organization. We weren’t exactly allowed to watch movies,” he admitted.
The room succumbed to silence. Everyone frowned for a moment but none of them kept the expression on their faces. Tim grimaced at the looks he was getting.
“Well, looks like we’ll be having a lot more movie nights,” Dick said. “And that also means Jason has to come over for every one!”
Jason only grumbled, not denying it.
Thirty minutes into the movie, Tim already felt sleep tug at his eyes. He began leaning to one side, probably toward Bruce unintentionally just because he trusted him more than Jason. Each blink spread further and further apart which mildly made Tim feel guilty. He was supposed to be making up for all the movies he was unable to watch. It didn’t count if he slept right through it.
A hand landed on his head. At first, Tim was startled, looking up to see who the hand belonged to. It was Bruce. He had a careful look on his face and when Tim made no move to push away, the hand began threading through his hair. It was like an off-switch. Tim’s eyes drooped instantly while he gravitated toward the touch.
He had thought Bruce was angry with him. Was this how he acted? When Tim’s parents were angry, there was a lot of yelling and the only physical contact was something painful. This was odd. He never expected this.
Tim paid no mind to the movie anymore. He really did try but his eyelids just felt so heavy. The final time he opened his eyes, he glanced over at Damian, slightly smiling at the sight of the boy fast asleep as well. His eyes closed not long after.
Bruce wasn’t sure what to do with Tim. Everything he did had to be carefully calculated lest he scare him away. Bruce had never considered himself a perfect father but he tried his best. At times, especially with his eldest children, he had made more mistakes than none.
So that was exactly why Bruce wanted to do a good job with Tim who was more desperate than anyone for a parent. After he practically admitted that he hadn’t watched a movie since he was nine, any disappointment that he had previously felt for Tim was washed away.
Tim was startled by the affection at first but once he understood that Bruce meant no harm, he melted. Tim reminded Bruce of a cat finding comfort for the first time. His heart ached at the sight.
Tim and Damian were one and the same, both falling asleep. So eventually, when the movie ended, it was time to get them both to bed. Only, when Dick gently lifted Damian without waking him, Tim’s eyes instantly opened, having sensed the movement.
Bruce quickly continued running his fingers through his hair, trying to lull him back to sleep. It wasn’t like the boy didn’t need sleep. When the actions didn’t work well enough, Bruce elected to use words.
“Go back to sleep, Tim,” he whispered, watching as Dick quietly carried Damian to bed.
“It’s over?” Tim asked, voice tinny and small.
“Yeah. Now it’s time for bed,” Bruce said, just as gently.
“I fell asleep,” Tim muttered. “I missed it.”
He sounded so upset that Bruce’s heart cracked just a little bit more. “That’s alright, sweetheart. We have a lot of movies to make up for it.”
Tim only hummed.
“Do you want to sleep here or in your bed?” Bruce asked.
Tim cracked open an eye. “Here,” he grumbled.
Bruce draped a blanket over his shoulders and Tim was out like a light.
He turned to Jason who was the only one left in the room. “Jay?”
His boy turned to him. The light from the TV made him look younger than he was. Bruce was reminded of the little boy he took in from the streets all over again.
“What?” Jason said, noticing the sullen look on Bruce's face.
He moved before Jason could think about pulling away. The sick feeling in Bruce’s stomach was gut-wrenching as he pulled his boy into a tight hug.
At first, Jason froze as stiff as a board. He wasn’t expecting the touch. The last time Bruce had hugged him was before his death. After that, Jason never let him get close enough.
“B,” Jason grounded out, startled. “What is wrong with you?” He still didn’t reciprocate the hug.
“Thank you for staying here, Jaylad.”
“I told you not to call—”
“I missed you,” Bruce said, quieting him down.
“Cut the sappy-ness, old man,” Jason said, yet it had no bite.
Even though Jason was leaving, he was content with having all of his boys at home, even if it was just for a few days. Jason pulled away, eventually reaching his limit.
“I’m leaving,” Jason announced, quieting only a moment later. “Don’t fuck up with Tim. He can’t afford that.”
Bruce sighed. “Believe me, I know. Plus, I already got the spiel from Dick.”
“Well, now you got another one,” Jason said, turning around to leave.
Alfred stopped him from exiting, handing him a container of baked goods. Jason took it with a smile and willingly hugged Alfred. Bruce smiled.
Tim woke up in a quiet household. Given, that it was the middle of the night that was beside the point. He was still in the movie room, bundled in a blanket and entirely alone on the couch. Tim hardly remembered what had happened apart from waking up and seeing Damian being carried. His brain was too foggy to remember.
Tim sat up, throwing the blanket off after he succumbed to an uncomfortable amount of heat. He was hardly in the right mind to check the time so he simply assumed it was late and that was enough.
After springing to his feet and shaking off the daze, Tim had the urge to find someone. It was odd wanting company for once. Tim was used to being alone for so long that perhaps as soon as he wasn’t, he didn’t want to let it go.
It was hard to take food away from someone who was starving.
He eventually made his way up the stairs, stopping right before his room. He just wanted to check, that was all. Once he made sure everyone was in the manor, then he could go to sleep. It wasn’t as if he would wake anyone up. Tim was sneaky.
He checked Damian’s room first, simply because it was the closest. The boy was nestled in bed, sound asleep. At the confirmation, Tim left quickly. When he got to Jason’s room, the bed was empty, however, Tim expected it in a way. Jason had wanted to leave for a while and the whole point of them watching a movie was to get some “family” time in before he left.
Tim only felt uneasy when he checked Dick’s room. His bed was empty and freshly made as if he hadn’t even slept at all. He furrowed his brows, displeased. Bruce’s room was empty as well. Tim frowned, upset that he didn’t know where the two were.
But then, after chiding himself for his utter stupidity, Tim realized that he now lived with a family of vigilantes, Batman being one of them. So of course Bruce wasn’t asleep in the middle of the night. He was fighting crime, probably alongside Dick.
Now normally, Tim would simply accept the fact and head to bed. Unfortunately, it was practically impossible for Tim to let things go.
So back down the stairs, he went, straight to Bruce’s study. He put in the correct time on the clock and watched as the hatch opened. Tim made his way down the steps, rubbing at his sleep-addled eyes.
At the computer was none other than Alfred, quietly talking. He was sipping a cup of tea like a true British man. Tim stared at the beverage, imagining coffee like the caffeine addict he was.
“Alfred?” Tim asked, pattering up behind him. The man turned around with a soft frown.
“You are supposed to be asleep, Master Tim,” he said.
Tim shrugged. “I woke up.”
“I can see that,” Alfred drawled. “Come have a seat.”
Tim obeyed, pulling up a stool to look at the various screens. They were highly advanced, impressing Tim to no end. If he had free range of this tech’, Tim would be like a child let loose in a candy store.
He found solace in listening to the mellow sounds of Alfred talking to Dick and Bruce. It was enough for sleep to tug at him once again. The background noise reminded him of when Tim would turn on the TV to go to bed when he was younger. He liked to listen to people talking just so he could pretend he wasn’t alone in the house. Until now, Tim had forgotten how much it soothed him.
“Master Tim,” Alfred whispered. “Perhaps you should head up to bed.”
Tim tiredly shook his head. “I want to wait for Bruce and Dick to come home.”
“I see.”
It didn’t hit Tim until minutes later when he realized what he had just said. He just referred to the manor as home. As surprised as he was, when thinking of the manor, the word “home” didn’t feel foreign on his tongue. It felt right.
He tried to think back to when he began to think that way. Was today the first day? Was it the movie that made it feel like home? Was it the fact that Tim felt safe enough to fall asleep with multiple people around him?
Tim didn’t notice that he was beginning to drift off until he heard the hum of a car pull up behind him. The sound woke him up completely. He should have been expecting Batman, cowl and all, but he inevitably wasn’t so at the sight of the man looming over him, Tim had half the mind to jump.
The cowl was removed and replaced with an exhausted-looking Bruce. Dick was grinning from behind him, taking off his domino.
Tim peered up at them. “Oh, you’re back.”
“What are you doing up?” Bruce asked.
Before Tim could answer, Dick cut in. “He wanted to see the real Batman and Nightwing in action.”
“I’m afraid his eyes were closed for the majority of his time down here,” Alfred informed, earning a scowl out of Tim.
“Why didn’t you just go to bed, Tim?” Bruce said.
Tim grumbled. What was it with everyone trying to get him to sleep?
“I was waiting for you to come home,” Tim reasoned.
Silence overcame the room. When no one seemed to feel like talking, Tim opened his eyes to look around the room. Bruce’s eyes were glued on him, looking surprised. At first, Tim assumed that there was something on his face until he realized what he had said.
Not only had he called the manor “home” in front of Alfred, but now he also admitted it in front of Bruce who had heard his stupid breakdown about it the other night.
Before Tim could stress himself out, Bruce spoke. “Well, we’re home now.”
Tim hummed, already halfway asleep. He was too exhausted to think about anything.
For the longest time, Tim thought home was a place. He had always called his house with his parents “home”, even during his first years at the organization. Once his naive younger self got over the idea that his parents weren’t going to welcome him home anymore, Tim tried to find a replacement to call “home”.
But despite how close he was to the assassins around him or how long he had stayed in the confines of the organization, it wasn’t home. It confused him to no end. If he lived there, why wasn’t it his home? When he silently begged to return home after a punishment, why wasn’t he already considered there?
However, the most heartbreaking thought was when he realized that living with his parents felt the exact same way. At the time, he hadn’t understood what he was feeling but now, he recognized what it felt like to yearn for a home.
So, sitting in the cave while people bustled around him and his eyes closed, Tim knew exactly where he was.
The noise wasn’t artificially created from the TV, nor did he have to pretend that he wasn’t alone.
It not only sounded like home, but it felt like it too.