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"You never did tell me how Ra's got to you," Bruce said one day off-handedly. It'd been years since Tim had found evidence of Bruce being alive and been pulled from the timestream. Tim looked up with a quizzical raising of his brow. Lunch was sitting between them, untouched as Bruce's gaze leveled with Tim's and they sat in silence for a moment.
"Well," Tim finally replied, clearly chewing the thought over, "if I'm being honest, I wasn't exactly in the right headspace back then."
"So he took advantage of your grief?"
"You could say that," Tim hedged, eyes darting away from Bruce's. He could only stare for so long. Bruce reached out and touched Tim's hand, drawing the young man's eyes to it.
"It was more than that then?"
Tim let out a sigh and nodded.
"How then? I'm hardly one to judge given my choice of acquaintances, Tim."
"I see…well…It was mostly that he kept me company. Kept me from spiraling in my own thoughts."
"How did he keep you company? I was under the impression that he wasn't involved directly until later."
"No, he wasn't. It was through a communicator. He talked to me till I fell asleep some nights."
"I see."
"I was so lonely," Tim said desperately, looking up as if his eyes could tell it all, "after so many people had died, being away from Gotham, away from everyone."
Bruce's smile turned melancholic, an expression he wore too often these days, and he rubbed his thumb over Tim's skin, "and now?"
Tim took in a shaky breath, meeting Bruce's gaze. It was difficult to get the words out so he nodded instead.
"Let's finish our lunch. We've got another board meeting this afternoon," Bruce replied, squeezing Tim's hand before withdrawing.
Tim nodded again, hands moving to adjust his plate in front of him. He needed to keep himself held together. Bruce's comments had unsettled him but he didn't have time to ponder for long, their busy work day ahead of them.
Later that night, Tim showered and readied himself for sleep when his phone went off. He fluffed his hair with his towel more before he leaned over his bed and flipped his phone over to see who was calling. It was Bruce, and Tim let out a sigh wondering what he'd forgotten to do this time. He picked up the phone and schooled himself into Tim Drake, partner.
"Yes, Bruce?"
"Hi, Tim. I was calling to see how your night went."
"Oh," Tim said, a little surprised. He sat down on the edge of his bed and began patting at his hair, "it went well. Patrol was light so I called the night, since we've got the early meeting."
"I'm glad to see you're taking better care of yourself these days."
Tim let out a small disgruntled noise but he couldn't be happier hearing Bruce be glad about something. He worried his lips for a moment before he responded.
"It's taken me a while to see the benefit of a balanced life."
"I could learn a thing or two about it from you."
"Are you still on patrol?"
"Yes."
"Will you stay out much longer?"
"Yes. There is a case I'm investigating."
"No rest for the wicked…"
"They certainly do not seem to ever rest, no."
"Was that all?"
"...Yes." Bruce's voice seemed distant again, distracted.
"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow morning bright and early," Tim said with a smile in his voice.
"Hnn, good night."
Just like that the call ended and Tim looked at his phone, confused. Maybe it was their earlier conversation that had led Bruce to calling him, and he set his phone down on the phone charger and finished getting ready for bed. He didn't think that Bruce would call him again, but when the next night after he'd finished patrol came, he found himself waking up to the phone ringing. He pulled it to his ear and mumbled a hello.
"Oh, sorry, did I wake you?"
"Bruce?"
"Yes, it's me."
"Yah, I was just asleep…what do you need? I can get dressed again if there's an emergency."
"No, I just wanted to see how your day went."
"Oh." Tim was more than confused, blinking his eyes several times before they closed on him again, "it was okay. I thought our meeting went well. The presentation went down without a hitch as you saw, and I thought the investors were convinced of the merits."
"I heard them talking afterwards in the hallway, they're going to go ahead with the contributions."
"Really? That's good to hear. The hospitals in South side could really use more free clinics."
"You did good, Tim. I'm proud of you."
Tim flushed, glad he could hide his face in his covers.
"Thanks."
"Good night."
"Good night."
Somehow the calls had become routine, so routine that Tim found himself waiting up for them, and like clockwork they came-never disappointing him. At first their conversations were short, about work or cases, but eventually it had begun teetering into their personal lives. Tim wasn't sure exactly when it'd happened but one night months later he found himself laying in bed, eyes closed as Bruce was talking about crepes of all things when the words slipped out of his mouth.
"I love this."
Bruce quieted on the other side and suddenly Tim was jerking up in bed, heart pounding. He didn't want to ruin what they had started, and he clutched at his shirt, desperate for Bruce to say something-anything.
"You do?" Bruce finally asked.
"...yes."
"I'm glad. I've been enjoying our conversations too."
Tim's heart was still beating but calming, ecstatic, elated even, and he wasn't sure just what he was feeling, but it was something familiar and foreign all at once. He laid back in the bed and cleared his throat.
"You've been glad a lot lately. Don't tell me you've got cancer or something?"
"No," Bruce chuckled over the line, "it's just good to have someone to talk to."
"Yah…"
"It's getting late actually."
"Okay, well I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Till then," Bruce said before disconnecting.
Tim stared at his phone, glad himself that he didn't ruin whatever this was turning into. It took him hours to fall asleep that night, replaying the bit of conversation over and over in his head, until finally he'd spun himself up so much he dreamt of it.
The next few nights were different, an air changed between them, and Tim wasn't sure how to reconcile the Bruce of Wayne Enterprises, with the Bruce of Batman, and the Bruce that called him every night. If he were being honest, he'd admit he probably was doing the same. Yet despite it all, he didn't want to stop being the Tim that spoke to Bruce every night any more than he wanted to stop being Red Robin or working at Wayne Enterprises. Each facet of his life was just as important as the last and he worried his lips as he finally voiced it to Bruce on their call.
"You don't have to be like me, Tim. You don't have to compartmentalize your life."
"But I want to…its better that way."
"It comes with its own risks. Are you prepared for that?"
"I'd like to think so at this point. What are you saying?"
"I'm saying…this is getting too…"
"Don't say that, no, I won't listen," Tim replied, kicking his feet where they hung over the side of his bed and trying not to worry that Bruce would take this away from him. He quickly got out of bed and began to pace.
"I can't give you what you want." Bruce's voice was clear and calm, but decisive. It left Tim's head whirling.
"You don't even know what I want. I don't even know what I want, Bruce."
"I know that one day this won't be enough."
"How can you know that?"
"Because I feel that way now."
Tim stopped in his tracks, "what? Bruce? Hello?"
The line was quiet, and Tim balled his fist at his side, heart pounding in his ears, "don't go quiet on me now. Please, say that again….I dare you."
"It's not enough for me, these phone calls. Is it enough for you?"
Tim sat down on the bed, suddenly drifting in elation. What was he feeling? What did he want? He worried his lip for a moment, knowing his silence was likely killing Bruce, but he just didn't know.
"I-" he tried, trying to force an answer out of his heart, "I want to have lunch with you all the time. I want to solve cases with you all the time. I want…I want you to be in my life all the time."
"I'm not sure I can be what you want me to be. It's…questionable judgement on my part."
It was like cold water, but his fire wasn't extinguished, especially now that he knew what he wanted. That Bruce wanted.
"You're just saying that because you're scared."
"I fight-"
"This is different and you know it."
"Yes…but Tim, I don't lead a life where I can pursue a…"
"We don't have to define it. It can be whatever it is we make it."
"Tim.."
"Just don't stop talking to me, please."
"Okay…I've got to go now, we can talk more about it tomorrow."
But tomorrow never came. At first Tim thought it was a case, something that took Bruce's time. It wouldn't be the first time a call came in later than planned, but after the third night, Tim sunk down in his bed with his phone against his chest, brokenhearted. He got his heart broken before he'd even realized it was there to be broken. And for the first time in all the months they'd been talking, he called Bruce.
"Tim…? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, you big dolt. You haven't called me. I was worried."
"I'm sorry," Bruce replied, clearly wrestling with something in his low voice.
"Did you forget about me so easily?" Tim felt a little melodramatic, but he couldn't help the way his voice faltered and betrayed him. What was meant to be flippant became emotional.
"No, Tim, never." Bruce's voice was soft, almost pleading.
"Then why?"
The words hung in the space between them, the distance made small through waves in the sky and yet Tim never felt so close, so close to the edge of something monumental.
"I'm scared."
Maybe it was the most honest thing Bruce had ever said to him. He sat up again, wondering if the phone was all they could have. "I'm here."
"You are, aren't you?"
"Yah, been here the whole time you know."
"So have I."
"I'm not going anywhere, and so what if we can't have anything more? We shouldn't stop ourselves from having it now."
"Hmph, you've always been stubborn," Bruce chuckled lightly.
"I've learned from the best."
"Alright."
"Yah?" Tim was hopeful, excited, but tried not to jump up onto his bed in triumph.
"Yes."
Their conversation turned soft, talking about their last few days, about the case that had taken up most of Bruce's time, a case that he'd kept from Tim. They talked until the wee hours of the morning, and Tim was certain that Bruce was in the cave just as he was getting out of bed to get ready for work. Even as he brushed his teeth and combed his hair, Bruce's words were in his ear, a steady stream of comfort that kept him engaged with laughter and for the first time ever Bruce's soft snores came from the other side and Tim found himself smiling.
"Good night my sweet prince," Tim whispered.