Chapter Text
Despite Tim coming home from the hospital several days ago, Dick hadn't sat down and spoken to him at any length.
It wasn't like he was avoiding Tim on purpose... but more so that there was an intense weight of guilt that crashed down on his shoulders whenever he thought about Tim for too long.
As Jason painfully pointed out, Tim was also a minor, and should have been in high school, instead of running around and trying to fix things. But Dick was focused on maintaining Bruce's legacy, and didn't have the ability to fix everything that was breaking in front of him.
But now, Dick stood outside the door to Tim's bedroom, biting his lip as he thought about what he was going to say. Dick also knew that the longer he stood outside of Tim's door and didn't go inside, the risk of him walking away increased.
He knocked on the door.
A moment.
And then more silence.
Dick knocked again.
Paused.
More silence.
Sighing, he slowly turned the knob and opened the door, poking his head in and sighed again, this time with a smile on his face.
Tim was fast asleep, his face squished into a pillow, the hood from his hoodie pulled up. On his bed Dick could see several scattered papers, a book, as well as his switch.
It was strange- to see Tim go from hardly sleeping at all, to sleeping constantly and needing to be woken up to remember to eat. The house was quieter as a result, since there wasn't anyone around to bicker with Jason and Damian the way that Tim does.
Suddenly, Tim's phone rang, and Dick flinched when Tim flinched, before opening his eyes and slowly blinking a few times.
He sat up, looked at his phone, silenced it, threw it back onto the nightstand where it had been previously resting and then looked at Dick.
"How long have you been standing there?" Tim asked, his eyes narrowing.
"You know it's weird to watch people sleep."
"Bruce watched us all of the time." Dick pointed out and Tim scoffed, before coughing slightly.
"I'm not sure where you've been, but Bruce has always been weird," he replied.
Another moment.
"Tim," Dick began pausing again, searching for the words, even though he already knew how he felt.
"You're going to ask me why I didn't say anything, aren't you?" Tim replied, a frown forming on his face.
"No."
"Really?"
"I already have a pretty good guess, I'm not here to guilt you about it." Dick replied and Tim blinked.
"Then... why are you here?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I wanted to talk to you," Dick answered, and shrugged.
"Make sure that you were okay."
"Well I'm not in the hospital anymore," Tim pointed out.
"Tim you know what I mean," Dick replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
"You don't have to stay here and talk to me," Tim retorted, annoyance seeping into his voice.
"I want to talk to you," Dick emphasized.
"I don't really know anything about what's going on in your life anymore."
"There's not a whole lot going on. I go to school, I come home, I skateboard and play video games. Argue with Jason about Dune. Argue with Jason about Sherlock Holmes. Argue with Jason about-"
"Why are you always arguing with Jason about books?"
"Because he's a snob when it comes to books. For a guy whose committed murder he considers most book to movie adaptations a more serious crime," Tim pointed out.
"And who else can I make sand worm jokes with?"
"What?" Dick asked and then shook his head.
"Actually never mind."
"That's my point," Tim replied, leaning back into the pillows on his bed.
"Yeah but Jason doesn't hang out with you to go get ice cream or milkshakes," Dick pointed out and Tim sighed.
"I'm supposed to be on a special diet since my blood work was all messed up," he muttered and then looked at his torso.
"I'm sure if I brought you some ice cream Bruce wouldn't mind." Dick pointed out.
"He'll freak out just because that's Bruce and he won't let me out of his sight. Neither will Alfred."
"So, cookies and cream ice cream it is then?" Dick asked with a smile and Tim straightened up.
"The Ben and Jerry's one?" He asked, a small smile on his face.
"Bruce and Alfred will never know."