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For once, Tim was excited to be able to help his parents.
He couldn’t help a lot, but at nine, he couldn’t expect to do more than what he already did. He just had to make his parents’ business partners happy, and then his parents were happy and maybe, maybe they would even stay around a little more.
Last time had been a hard one, too, because Lex Luthor wasn’t known to be happy a lot, but he had been satisfied with Tim and signed the contract, and his parents were gaining a lot with this one. So they had brought Tim with them to the restaurant, which never really happened before. And Tim got to meet his parent’s next business partner.
It had been Bruce Wayne.
Tim was bouncing with excitement. Internally only, of course, because children his age had to be the most agreeable possible and that meant being silent and cute. Tim could do that, so he only let his pretty, innocent smile on, keeping the happy energy close to his heart instead of on his face. It wasn’t easy, this time, but he could do it.
Wayne Enterprises was huge. Not like it was a surprise; the building was well-known in Gotham, after all. But Tim had never been inside, and there were so many people. It nearly toned down his excitement, but then he spotted Bruce Wayne himself, making his way toward them, and everything came back in full force.
“Hello, Janet, Jack. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” said Mister Wayne, smile on his lips, his hand extended first to his father, then a kiss ready to be put on his mother’s hand. Then, he turned toward Tim and smiled at him, too, and Tim resisted the urge to beam. “And you too, Timmy. I’m happy to see you came with your parents.”
He didn’t bend down to kiss his hand like with his mother or shake his hand like all serious adults; instead, he ran his hand through Tim’s hair, the gesture tender and soft, and Tim’s heart melted.
Mister Wayne had done the same at the restaurant, when they had dinner with him. It had been nice then, and it still was now. His parents never touched him, especially with soft smiles and hands like that, and his parents’ business partners weren’t always nice either. But it was Tim’s job to make them happy, so he never complained, always let them do what they wanted. If he complained, they could get mad, and then his parents would be mad. It had happened, at first, when Tim had been younger and scared and hadn’t known how to deal with it when it hurt. Now, he knew better, and he was good at making people happy.
It didn’t look like it would be a lot of work with Mister Wayne if he was already happy just seeing him. It was good, too, because Tim wouldn’t have a lot to do. And maybe, if it was quick enough, he would have time to talk with Mister Wayne more, like they had at the restaurant.
His parents never liked when he talked. He wasn’t meant to talk with the business partners, but he hadn’t been able to resist when Mister Wayne had talked about the Wayne Foundation last project. He had read everything about it and had so many questions, they had left his mouth before he was even able to think how rude it was for a kid to talk when they weren't meant to. Tim wasn’t authorized to talk much, not even at home, because his parents said his babbling was exhausting and they couldn’t bear it long. So Tim was silent a lot, and his words left him, and Mister Wayne hadn’t been angry or scolded him; instead, he had answered and smiled at him, talking to him like he was supposed to have thoughts and opinions.
It had been nice.
Not like his parents weren’t nice with him, of course, they were! But Tim wasn’t an adult yet, so he couldn’t do a lot. Talking and thinking by himself were just some of those things.
When they had come back from the restaurant, Tim had feared being scolded badly, maybe even locked up in his room like he hadn’t been in years - since the first time he helped his parents with their job. But they hadn’t - they did say it was bad that he talked like that, but that he was lucky Mister Wayne had appreciated it and that he would see him again before they sign their contract.
Tim knew his parents hadn’t been sure Mister Wayne would like having Tim make him feel good, but how he treated him at the restaurant and immediately agreed on meeting Tim again convinced them he would appreciate the attention.
So here they were, on the day of the contract, Tim by his parents’ sides as they took the elevator toward Mister Wayne’s office.
Tim liked Mister Wayne, so he was happy he could make him happy for a little while. Outside of how nice he had been with him, Tim had read enough things on his laptop and in the newspaper to know that Mister Wayne was a good person who helped a lot of people; it was only fair for Tim to take care of him that one time.
And, of course, there was the way less known fact that Mister Wayne was Batman himself - the thought nearly sent Tim into giggles.
Going out in Gotham at night was the only thing he did without telling his parents - and technically, he was only doing so when his parents weren’t around, so it wasn’t really a lie if he didn’t have anyone to lie to. He never talked to them about how much he loved photography, and at first he had wanted to go out only to take more pictures. It just evolved as he read and learned more and more on Batman and Robin.
Then, of course, he recognized the famous Graysons’ quadruple somersault, and he had known. The knowledge couldn’t erase itself from his brain, so Tim had taken upon himself to protect the heroes’ identities even more. It worked well, for now.
And, he was now able to help Batman.
It was wonderful. The best day of his life.
Mister Wayne’s office was pretty. All big, with huge windows and so much light. It was bathing in it, and Tim suddenly felt too hot and clumsy in his little suit. It wasn’t time for him to play dress-up, though, so all the clothes stayed on and he sat quietly on his designated chair.
Instead of waiting by the couch with color books or something, Mister Wayne had placed him right beside his parents. It was unusual; his parents’ business partners always preferred when Tim sat elsewhere, out of their sight until it was his time to come in. But it was a welcome change; Tim had always liked listening to the contract and what the adults were saying. At least, this time, he could be closer.
He was still a kid, though, so he couldn’t show too much attention or that he understood what they talked about. Kids weren’t smart enough for adults’ stuff.
Tim let his mind drift away as his parents and Mister Wayne started their conversation. He got cut off from his daydreaming when Mister Wayne suddenly talked to him, though. Was it already time for him to act?
“Timmy? What do you think?”
Tim blinked, taken aback by the question. Why did Mister Wayne ask for his opinion? “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t hear,” he immediately answered, his expression still confused. He sent a glance to his parents, lost about what he was supposed to do.
His mother placed a hand on his arm, and Tim relished on the physical touch. Janet smiled sweetly at Mister Wayne, her mouth forming a discreet pearl of laughter. “Oh, Bruce, dear, it’s too complicated for him, I think. Timothy is just a child, after all. No child can understand these concepts.”
Still unsure of what to do, Tim nodded. But Mister Wayne smiled brightly, waving away his mother’s words. “Nonsense, Janet. Timmy here already proved to me he has a great mind.” He turned his gaze toward Tim, this time, this smile not as bright but more soft, maybe. “We were talking about the orphanage’s construction like we talked about at the restaurant, sweetheart. Your parents think it would be a good idea to have it in Bristol, and I would prefer it near Crime Alley, as they have a lot of homeless kids.” Mister Wayne would know about it, since his son Jason came from here. It made sense, supposed Tim. “Of course, I don’t ask you to choose. But do you have an idea where to build it?”
Tim ran the words into his mind again, pushing the look his parents were sending toward him away and thinking about the question. Building an orphanage was a good thing, of course, and Tim more or less agreed that Crime Alley needed it more than Bristol. But he couldn’t openly disagree with his parents either - they would be very mad at him. On the other hand, he was supposed to make Mister Wayne happy…
“Aren’t there a lot of buildings no one use everywhere in Gotham? You could use those ones instead of a new one, right?”
It was neutral enough. It could probably be okay, right?
A sparkle of approval flickered into Mister Wayne’s eyes, and the man nodded. “It seems smart, yes. Renovation instead of construction… It could work.”
Tim glanced at his parents; his mother squeezed his arms before letting go, and his father laughed, a little forced at first but better near the end.
“Yes, we get a smart one on our hands!”
The discussion continued, and this time Tim did his best to follow it. It was a good idea on his part, too, because Mister Wayne stopped more than one time to ask for his opinion on things, always with compliments no matter what kind of answers Tim offered to him.
Tim… wasn’t really sure to understand what Mister Wayne liked so much aboutthat. But if it was making him happy - it was all that mattered.
Finally, they circled toward the end. At Tim’s confusion - and his parents’ confusion, he saw their stance as Mister Wayne took the papers out of his drawers - they signed the contract before Tim’s job.
Tim suddenly wondered if they would really need his help. He felt a pit of unease in his stomach as the thought - if he wasn’t useful to his parents, they would send him away, and he wanted so badly to make Mister Wayne happy! Mister Wayne deserved to be happy!
Tim couldn’t panic. He couldn’t. He had to stay calm and nice and smiling and his parents would make sure he could do his job. It was alright. Everything was alright.
“Well,” said his father, the pen now neatly placed on the desk, “Now that this is done - we’ll leave you Timothy here, so you two can… discuss further.”
Mister Wayne nodded carefully, like he was confused at what was happening - it was probably an act, though, because everyone always knew what was happening. It was the children’s job, after all. Mister Wayne’s sons were probably doing the same.
“Be nice, Timothy,” said his mother, and she looked at him - her usual look, the one who told him to be a good boy and make their business partner happy. But Tim hadn’t failed since the first time, so he addressed her with a smile and a little nod.
Then, his parents left, words about coffee and waiting into the lobby floating behind them.
It was time for Tim to shine.
Mister Wayne smiled at him, as soft as the other times, and Tim felt glad it wasn’t an act. Sometimes, some of his parents’ business partners would put on a nice face but they’d hurt, after. But Mister Wayne was too nice to hurt him, so it was okay.
“Do you want to see the plan for the orphanage, sweetheart? It’s on my computer.”
Oh, Tim knew this part. Mister Wayne wanted to go slowly, like it was some kind of accident - he got it. He didn’t understand why it would be an accident, but his father told him that everyone likes different things and sometimes it was that things looked like they happened by accident.
Mister Wayne reached out toward the desk, but Tim was already sliding out of his chair and running on the other side. Mister Wayne startled, especially when Tim started to climb on his lap, but he immediately went to carry him and place him carefully against him.
He looked down at him. “Everything is okay, sweetheart?”
“Of course, Mister Wayne,” answered Tim with a beam of his own. He wasn’t forced to not smile too widely now that his parents had left, so it was probably okay. He was happy to make Mister Wayne happy, after all, and he could show it.
“Please, call me Bruce.” Mister- Bruce smiled softly at him again, and Tim felt all hot in his belly. It was so nice.
“Okay, Bruce,” he said quietly, batting his eyelashes innocently.
And Tim was hot, now, so he was supposed to start undressing. Which he did, carefully dropping both his vest and his tie. Behind him, he felt Bruce tensing.
“Timmy?” Tim raised his head at the call of his name. “What are you doing?”
“I’m hot,” he answered immediately.
Bruce was a very good actor, but Tim wouldn’t expect less from Batman.
“Alright,” said Bruce, breathing out the word more than speaking it. He was still tense, though, and his brows were furrowed.
Oh no. No no no no no. Tim was doing something wrong, and now Bruce wasn’t happy anymore! His parents would be so angry if this one failed, he knew how much they needed a contract like this one, they told him, he had to be perfect!
What Tim needed to do was accelerate things. Bruce probably needed to relax more. Tim could help. It was his job, after all. And some people liked it when he took the reign.
Instead of looking at the laptop screen like he was supposed to do for the foreplay, Tim turned on Bruce’s lap to face him, still smiling at him, and put his hands on his chest.
“You seem to need some help to relax, Bruce. I can help. I know exactly what to do.”
Bruce’s eyes widened, his smile immediately dropping. Tim immediately felt bad - that wasn’t supposed to happen, it was supposed to help!
To his horror and utter frustration, he felt tears growing in his eyes.
“Tim…?” murmured Bruce, again, and this time Tim wasn’t able to stop the fall.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, huge eyes looking at the man, searching for an answer, for how to make it right again. “I can do whatever you want! I know how to! It’s why I’m here!”
The words flowed out of his mouth without his permission, growing into a babble less and less comprehensible as the tears trailed down his cheeks. But Tim couldn’t help it, no matter how hard he tried; he was so confused, so lost, and so terrified.
He knew the consequences of failing, and he just couldn’t do with it. His parents would be so, so mad, and more than that, there were a lot of kids who needed this orphanage to be built! And if Tim failed, it would never happen, and they wouldn’t have a safe home, and it would be his fault!
“Timmy, sweetheart, hey, calm down for me, would you? Breathe, one, two, three, like that, you’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you.”
The words started to disperse the fog in his mind and the panic in his heart. Tim started breathing better, but he kept his eyes raised toward Bruce, still waiting for his answer.
“You’re feeling better?” asked Bruce slowly, his hand petting his hair gently. Tim nodded, and Bruce sighted. “Good. You’ve done nothing wrong, alright? But I need to talk to someone before coming back to you, alright?”
Tim cocked his head. “And I can make you happy after?”
Bruce pinched his lips before smiling at him, but it felt forced. “Of course, sweetheart.”
Tim couldn’t really do anything else than follow Bruce’s lead, so he accepted. It wasn’t like he had a choice, anyway.
Bruce quietly carried him and put him on the desk, taking a piece of candy from one of his drawers and giving it to Tim. “Here. Stay here until I come back, alright?”
Tim nodded, taking the candy - at least he could eat a little, even if it was only sugar. It was better than nothing - which he would get if he failed today.
Bruce left, and Tim felt disheartened. He had no idea what to do now.
Should he go back to his parents? But Bruce had said he was coming back, so he would be mad if Tim felt. Should he totally undress so he would be ready for what would follow?
…It was probably the safest bet.
Now determined, Tim wiped his tears away and ate all the candy before jumping off the desk. Carefully, he took his shirt off before starting undoing his pants.
“Tim, stop.”
Tim startled at the sudden voice - he hadn’t heard the door opening nor anyone entering. He turned on himself, and Bruce was here, his expression broken.
Tim didn’t understand, and he flinched, the fear eating him away. “What- Why?” The question almost came out like a whine, but it was like he didn’t have any control of himself anymore.
Bruce crouched in front of him, careful to not come too close. “You want to make me happy, right?”
Tim nodded slowly. It was why he was undressing, so, yes, it was still on his projects.
“If you want to make me happy, I want you to stay dressed, alright?”
Tim nodded again, even if it seemed really weird, because it wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Did Bruce have no idea how it was supposed to go?
“Why?” he couldn’t help but let out again. He grimaced before continuing. “I mean- It’s not like people usually want- And it doesn’t help for what we’re supposed to do?”
Bruce did this funny expression again, the one with pinched lips and concerned eyes, before he sighed. “Because I prefer you stay dressed. And I’ll need you to answer a few questions for one of my friends once he’s here, alright?”
Tim nodded, unsure. “I don’t understand,” he murmured, frustrated once again - he knew he was kind of smart for his age, but the situation was escaping him.
Bruce carefully ruffled his hair, and Tim leaned into the contact. “I know it’s confusing right now, sweetheart. It’ll become clear in a few hours, alright? In the meantime, how about we stay here and talk a little?”
Tim wiped his cheeks again. “Okay,” he mumbled.
“Great. You dress yourself and we talk, then.”
Tim obeyed. He had nothing else to do, after all, and his parents always wanted him to obey the other adults. Bruce stayed on the floor, sitting cross-legged, his gaze never really leaving him. Once he was done buttoning back his shirt, he came to sit in front of Bruce, hesitant, but reassured by the man’s smile.
“So, tell me, how is school?” asked Bruce, to Tim’s surprise.
“It’s nice, I guess. A lot boring. But I have a lot of friends!”
Bruce smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling under the soft gesture. “Really? Tell me about them.”
So Tim started talking about Ives, his best friend in the whole world, and Jenny, the girl he always sat across from in classes, and Tobias, the kid who taught him skateboarding. By then, Bruce had been admiring his skills and Tim, once shy, couldn’t help but talk next about photography and how much he loved Gotham’s skyline at night. He rambled, rambled, and rambled again, slipping unconsciously toward Bruce the more they talked; soon enough, he was cuddling his side, Bruce’s arm around his shoulder, as he explained his favorite chess move to use.
It was nice. It was so, so nice. Tim wasn’t used to people cradling him like he was something precious, but he loved the feeling. Not that he didn’t love his parents, far from it, but it would be hard going back to them after all the gentleness Bruce had toward him.
A knock interrupted Tim’s babbling, and he shut his mouth in horror while realizing he had talked the whole time.
“Sorry,” he immediately blurted out, because if his parents got word of that—
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bruce smiled down at him once again, and Tim felt himself melting all over again. He blushed and curled up tighter against Bruce, bowing his head to hide the red on his cheeks. “Are you ready?”
Tim thought back to what they talked about - way, way before he took the reins of the whole discussion, that was. “For the questions?”
“Yes.”
Tim nodded quietly, turning his head a little toward the door to see who would enter.
“Okay,” said Bruce as quietly as him, and dropped a kiss on the top of his hair before raising his voice a little. “Come in!”
Tim felt himself flush even more at the kiss. It was- Was it a normal thing for people to do? His parents never kissed him like that. His parents’ business partners didn’t either.
But he liked it. He hoped he could see Bruce again, after all of that, and that he would kiss him on the head again.
The door finally opened, and Commissioner Gordon stepped in. He was smiling a little, right at Tim, and his eyebrows raised at their position on the floor. There was a lady behind him, with a pretty dress like his mother never wore because it wasn’t formal enough. She smiled at Tim, too, her arms holding a folder against her chest.
“Hello there. Can we come sit with you too?”
Tim looked at Bruce, but he was watching him, like the two other adults. Tim felt a little overwhelmed by so much attention on him, but nodded anyway. He didn’t understand why they asked him - it was Bruce’s office, not his!
Commissioner Gordon and the lady made their way toward them and sat in front of them, the lady lowering her folder on her knees and Commissioner getting a little device out of his pocket.
“I know things are probably very confusing for you right now, son, but would it be okay if I record the conversation? It’s important.”
Tim stared at the Commissioner, surprised - from what he saw and read, only criminals got recorded, right? Did he do something bad? Was he being arrested? His eyes widened.
“Am I going to jail?”
Bruce’s hold on him tightened a little. “Of course not, sweetheart.”
“But why do you record us, then? It only happens with criminals, right?”
Bruce exchanged a glance with the lady, then with Commissioner Gordon. It was the last one who answered him - which was logical, considering it was his job and all.
“Actually, it doesn’t. We need to record what you will say for two reasons. First, because it can be used as proof against people who hurt you, and second, for the lady here.” He glanced at her, before smiling. “Who will explain to you why, of course.”
She rolled her eyes, but took the explanation from here. “I’m Sarah McCartney. I’m a social worker. Do you know what a social worker is?”
Tim nodded, because he had read a lot about it - mostly when he was doing his research on the Waynes, but no one needed to know that part. “You take care of kids! The orphan ones.” He then furrowed his eyebrows and continued before anyone managed to take the speech back. “But I’m not an orphan. And I haven’t been hurt either.”
Miss McCartney grimaced, and Commissioner Gordon tensed a little - embarrassed, maybe.
“Timmy, sometimes, people get hurt without realizing it. And we think your parents may have hurt you, but to know if it’s true or not, we need to talk about it and to have a record. Okay?”
It made sense. It was even very logical - not that Tim believed his parents had hurt him, but he could prove they were wrong, and then he would go back to his parents and everything would be okay.
“Okay,” he agreed, now determined. He would defend his parents the best he could, telling them everything nice they ever did for him, how they even allowed him to help them and gave him rewards when he was being a good boy. It would be proof enough that they were good parents.
“Thank you,” said Commissioner Gordon before setting the device. “I’m Commissioner Gordon, but you can call me Jim. I will ask you some questions about your parents, alright?”
“Okay,” agreed Tim again.
“And I’m Sarah McCartney, like I said before. You can call me Sarah as well. Could you introduce yourself?”
Tim immediately straightened, kneeling on the floor with his hands on his knees, expression open but not too much, just like his parents taught him. He instantly missed Bruce’s warmth against him, but he had to be good and polite. He was nine, almost an adult, he couldn’t spend all his time cuddling, even if it was nice.
“Of course. I’m Timothy Jackson Drake, son of Jack and Janet Drake and heir to Drake Industries.”
Something tense crossed the adults’ features, but he had no idea what or why.
“Okay,” continued Sarah, still a smile on her lips. “How old are you?”
“I’m nine!” He cursed himself internally - it was too excited. He hoped his parents would never hear that or they would be disappointed.
“Nine? You’re getting big!”
“Of course. I’m almost an adult, after all.”
“Really? What makes you think that?” asked Comm- Jim. He was calm, his posture relaxed, and seemed interested in whatever Tim was going to say.
“My parents told me. Once I'm ten, I’ll be like an adult and can help my parents even more!”
“That’s nice, son. Tell me, how do you usually help your parents?”
Tim brightened - he knew a lot about this subject. He had time to learn, after all. “I make their business partners happy! And when they’re happy, they sign contracts with my parents, so my parents are happy! And when they’re happy, they stay around more and don’t go away for months!”
Sarah’s eyes twitched weirdly, but Tim decided it was probably nothing. Jim nodded, drawing Tim’s attention back to him.
“Can you explain to me how you make the business partners happy? It seems like a lot of work.”
Tim cocked his head a little. “I help them relax! I undress myself, and then they play with me, and they put things in me, and sometimes it hurts but it’s alright because I have to be good to make them happy!”
There was a tense silence and Tim blinked, confused. Did he say something wrong?
Jim cleared his throat. “I see. And since when have you been helping your parents like that?”
“Since I was seven! I turned eight not too long after, but I’ve been doing good work, because I made a lot of people happy!”
“You really are a good boy, Tim. Tell me, what happens when you don’t make them happy?” Sarah was writing something down, but her brown eyes were back on him now.
Tim bit his bottom lip. He didn’t like thinking about that, but if it helped his parents… “It only happened one time! The first one, because it was hurting a lot and I wasn’t used to it yet, so I cried a lot and the business partner wasn’t happy, so my parents weren’t happy either. My parents locked me up in my room and forbade me from eating, but it’s okay because I always keep food in my room. And I deserved it, anyway. I wasn’t good enough and I disappointed my parents.”
Bruce made a sympathetic noise. Not like Tim needed it, because it had been his fault, after all.
“Your parents seem to have a lot of expectations for you. Do they want you to behave a certain way?”
“Yes, of course. I have to be the perfect kid.”
Sarah was still smiling at him, but something was sad in her eyes now. “And what does being the perfect kid mean, exactly?”
“No talking until someone gives me permission to, not taking up too much space, staying in my room until my parents call me, being nice and polite, always smiling, always obeying the adults, kids aren’t smart so don’t listen to their conversations or pretend I can understand them, don’t bring shame on our family name,” recited Tim, a long rant he knew by heart after so many times whispering it in front of his mirror.
Sarah took a hard breath. Bruce was all tense by Tim’s side and looked like he wanted to pull him in a hug. Not like Tim would complain, but he had to stay good for the record, so he couldn’t now. Jim was looking all sad and tired now, and Tim couldn’t understand why.
“You said before that your parents left a lot?” asked Sarah once again.
“Oh, yeah! They are very busy. They travel all around the world!”
“It’s amazing, yes. And who stays with you when they aren’t there?”
“No one? I’m big, I take care of myself fine! I stopped having a babysitter when I was seven.” Tim puffed his chest - his parents had been very happy with him when he had proved he could cook and clean all by himself without a problem. And when he didn’t know what to do, he could always order something, so it was fine.
“Thank you for answering me, Tim. I think I have the whole picture now.” Sarah was still smiling at him, and Tim smiled at her. She seemed nice. He decided he liked her.
“I still have some more questions, son, if it’s okay with you?”
Tim turned toward Jim and nodded. “There’s no problem!”
“Good. So, tell me, who was the last of your parents’ partners that you saw and ‘made happy’?”
Tim could hear the quotation marks and pouted at that. He was good at his job. He did make people happy.
“Of course! Before Bruce- I mean, Mister Wayne, it was Lex Luthor! It was hard to make him happy but I did it! And my parents were very pleased so they brought me to the restaurant!”
Jim raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he asked, “And do you remember all of them?”
“Of course I do. It’s important that I know who I deal with. That’s what my parents said.”
“It’s impressive, son. You could give me the list?”
Tim nodded, now way more tired than at the start of the conversation. He started listing all the names - most of them were in Gotham, but some of them were in other cities. Tim had been able to meet them on the rare occasions his parents had taken him traveling with them.
When he finished, Bruce was back at his side, way closer than before but not touching him. Sarah was still sitting, waiting probably for the end, and Jim took the device back in his hand.
“Thank you, Tim. This will help us a lot.” He stopped recording, and Tim yawned, slipping from his position to curl up against Bruce once again.
Bruce petted his hair. “You did very good, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”
Tim smiled tiredly at him. “Thanks, Bruce.”
The rest passed like a blur; Bruce, Sarah and Jim talked a bit more, Bruce still holding Tim, this time in his arms as he raised to his feet. At one point, he had covered him with his jacket and placed him on the couch, Tim sliding in and out of sleep.
Fingers were cradling his hair, carefully massaging his scalp, and Tim let out a content sigh. It was so good.
“Tim, sweetheart? Are you with me?”
Tim yawned and forced himself to open his eyes. Bruce was crouched in front of him, a soft smile on his face.
“Hey,” he said quietly, his hand still in Tim’s hair. “I know you’re tired, Timmy, but I need to ask you a couple things, okay?”
Tim nodded, concentrating to understand the next words as much as possible.
“Good. I know you wanted to go back to your parents tonight, but there’s an investigation, so in the meantime you’ll stay with me. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure,” he mumbled - Tim had no problem with living with Batman. It was probably the safest place in Gotham, after all.
“Thank you. I’m going to carry you to the car and we’ll go home now, okay? And then you’ll sleep on a real, comfortable bed.”
Tim nodded again and reached his arms out for Bruce to take him against him. He didn’t think before doing so; he was too old to be carried, his parents told him so so many times. But it was Bruce, and Bruce said he was going to carry him, so it was probably okay.
Bruce held him carefully, one of his hands crossing his legs and the other supporting his neck. Tim tucked his head under Bruce’s chin and let himself go again.
The next time he woke up, he was in a car. The engine was purring slowly, no music blaring from anywhere. Bruce was driving, eyes fixed on the road. They were still somewhere in Gotham, probably not too far from Bristol anymore.
Tim closed his eyes again.
The world was swaying around him, and Tim frowned. It wasn’t nice. He wasn’t liking it much.
“Bruce?”
The voice was one of a child, a little bit older than Tim but not by much. Two or three years probably. He sounded surprised, and whatever was against Tim held him more tightly.
“Hey, Jaylad.”
Uh. Jaylad. Tim didn’t know anyone called like that.
“Bruce. You’re aware that you have a whole child in your arms?”
Bruce. Bruce was the warmth thing against him? Nice. Tim liked Bruce.
… Wait. Tim wasn’t a child!
“Yes. You remember I had a meeting with the Drakes today?”
Drakes… Oh, yeah, his parents. The Drakes were his parents.
“Sure?”
The voice still sounded confused.
“It’s their son, Tim. He will stay with us for a while.”
He would?
Oh, yes . Bruce. Bruce Wayne. Batman.
“Alfred knows?”
“I called him. Could you please call your brother and tell him about Tim? I would appreciate it if he comes by.”
Brother… Dick? Like Dick Grayson? Robin?
Tim would really like to meet him. Meet him again, since they had met at the circus, but it was years ago and Tim barely remembered it. But he had been nice. He probably still was nice, too.
“Okay, no problem.”
“Thanks, Jaylad. I’ll put Tim in the room in front of yours, alright?”
Jaylad - oh, Jason -’s answer got lost between Bruce’s chest and Tim’s ears, and Tim didn’t try to catch it better. He just let himself go with the flow without thinking more.
The next time he opened his eyes, he was being placed on a bed, the mattress so comfortable it felt like it was a cloud. Bruce was here, once again, whole face soft.
“Hey, Timmy.”
Tim waved his hand.
“I need you to undress and to put on this pajamas, okay?” Bruce was holding clothes, and Tim nodded, clumsily following orders.
Bruce helped him take off his shoes and shirts and put on his new t-shirt and pants. Once it was done, he lowered Tim beneath the blanket, carefully tucking him.
“Here. You’re good, buddy?”
Tim blinked. The window was still open, and he could see the night settling it.
It was a problem.
He yawned.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, still so so tired. “You can go Batman-ing.”
Bruce’s hand stopped where they were petting his hair, and Tim whined in protest. It started again, and he sighed in contentment.
“Batman,” murmured Bruce.
“Uh-uh,” said Tim, halfway through sleep now. “T’s okay, I won’t tell. I never told.”
Bruce’s answer escaped him as Morpheus carefully took his mind away, far in the land of sleep where every dream was possible.
For the first time in his life, Tim felt happy and content; and that night, he dreamed it would last forever.