Chapter Text
Nothing.
Absolutely.
Nothing.
Zip.
Zilch.
Nada.
Tim had found absolutely nothing. He didn’t find any involvement in drugs, or contracts, or a lead, not even a single name that meant anything!
So by the time he woke up the next morning, bleary from his singular hour of sleep, he was ready to skip school all together and sleep some more, but then he remembered he had mid-terms.
Stupid mid-term exams.
Tim rolled himself over his bed and didn’t even react when his body hit the ground, making a very obvious thumping noise that echoed. He groaned and buried his face in the plush carpet of his room, wings drooping over him in his exhaustion.
The door to his room opened and he didn’t need to look up to see who it was, light flooded through his previously dark room as someone scoffed.
“Up and at’em, boy. You have school.” Mrs. Mac’s chiding filled his head, his only coherent response was a low groan, one wing raising slightly to block the light.
The door opened to its full potential and not even a moment later his curtains were being yanked open, dousing the room in barely any light, since the sun was still rising over the horizon.
“Did you seriously expect to be sleeping the day away, Timothy?” He flopped over to his back just in time to catch Mrs. Mac’s disappointed head shaking and mumbling, hands on her hips in the universal disappointed stance.
“I was going to get up…eventually.” Tim mumbled, not meeting her eyes as he found interest in the footboard of his bed.
Mrs. Mac scoffed, “I hope you didn’t spend your night gaming away like you teenagers do.”
Yeah, I was stalking some girls' socials to try and get a lead on her death. Does that count as gaming?
Tim didn’t think he should mention that fact.
Instead he huffed in response, finally sitting up and stretching, a yawn slipping through his mouth, jaw cracking.
“Bus comes in 30 minutes, let’s go!” Mrs. Mac clapped her hands twice before exiting his room. Tim sighed and flopped back down, taking interest in the ceiling.
Mrs. Mac was very much a tough-love person, she did care for him, she just…meant business. Even when Tim was just a wee little boy, she always made sure he ate breakfast whenever she came over to clean while listening to The Beatles, humming while dusting.
Tim was barely lucid while he shrugged on a band shirt, unzipping the holes in the back made specifically for wings, then he made sure to put on cargo pants and some thick socks. He was genuinely so glad that Louis E. Grieve Memorial High School didn’t have standard uniforms, it felt so freeing to not be stuck in tight fabric and heavy blazers.
His coat and scarf were downstairs on the coat rack, so Tim ambled downstairs tiredly and near the kitchen. He never seemed to get used to the pristine-ness of Drake manor, it always felt empty. No matter how many artifacts filled the special room upstairs, or how much antique furniture his parents bought.
It always felt dead. Inhabited.
Tim sighed as he skipped the last step and hopped down to the tile, socks skidding slightly. When he arrived at the kitchen, topped with the knife set his father had gotten from Italy for a considerable amount of money. He had brought it home after one of their trips and then never used it. The knife set was like everything else in the manor, for show.
Mrs. Mac was in the living room by the sounds of the vacuum, so Tim quickly made sure to grab a thermos and make a bee-line towards the coffee machine. He never particularly liked coffee, since he always preferred energy drinks. Yet since he started his hobby, he felt the need to drink it whenever he could.
Right as he set the Thermos under the machine, hand hovering over the button and so close to the bitter relief of caffeine, a hand slapped him away from the button. Tim startled badly, wings ruffling as he jumped back.
“Young man, if you’re thirsty, drink water.” Mrs. Mac said, Tim barely even heard her with how fast his heart was beating, still a bit jumpy. He hadn’t expected the housekeeper to materialize out of nowhere. Perks of having Tawny Owl wings, he guesses. Or an eye on the back of her head, that made sense too.
Tim looks away to hide the flush of redness in his cheeks, burning of embarrassment. He sighs, “alright, alright,” before grabbing the thermos and setting it back inside the cabinet, grumbling protests that he is a 16-year-old and can drink coffee, but Mrs. Mac didn’t even humor him, she just went right back to vacuuming.
Tim sighed and decided he would make a pit-stop at the vending machine before first period, get a Zesti-cola, and all would be well.
To appease her, Tim grabbed an apple and washed it off before taking a giant bite, ignoring the juice that dribbled down his chin as he stuffed his laptop into his schoolbag, making sure he had his notes for science that he could study on the bus.
Not that he doubted his ability to get an A+ on this test, he just wanted to make sure and double-check his notes. It was almost like a ritual he would do before tests, midterms were worse since it was a whole semester worth of information, but Tim was a Drake. Regardless of public school or not.
After checking his bag one more time, Tim zipped it shut and let it rest against the cabinets, running over to the coat rack and shoving it on, making sure to zip it to his chin and buttoning it. He made sure to grab his scarf, lined with faux fur, and wrapping the material firmly around his neck.
He was ready to bear the icy chills of December. He firmly hoped he could keep a clear head during his exams today, he just needed to store the case firmly in the back of his head and he could revisit it after school when his grades weren’t at stake.
Tingles of excitement went through his limbs and straight to his chest, once midterms were over and winter break was in full swing, Tim was going to be able to see his parents! They had promised to get home on the 20th, which was in three days' time. They had even promised to take him ice skating if he did well on his exams.
Tim needed to make them proud.
Putting on his converse (something he bought with his own money, his parents didn’t even know he had them), Tim tied the laces quickly before taking the apple out of his mouth, jaw getting sore from holding it.
He ran back to the kitchen and double-checked that he had his work uniform in his bag before shrugging on the backpack, taking another bite of his apple.
“I’m going to school, Mrs. Mac! Goodbye!” He called into the foyer, checking the time on the roman numeral clock his parents had in the kitchen, there was no response since the housekeeper probably had her headphones in.
Tim shrugged it off and opened one of the wooden doors, which had intricate carvings along the outside. Wind immediately blew into his face and he winced at the bite of the icy currents, feathers ruffling.
Normally, kids would fly to school since it was overall faster and efficient, but the whole city had been warned not to fly because of the currents. Not wanting any extra injuries due to high schoolers that thought they were strong enough to fly when the gusts were at a good 30mph.
With a reluctant sigh, Tim kept his head down and braved the high winds, gripping his backpack straps tightly.
— 🪽—
Beep!
Clunk!
Tim breathes out almost an audible sigh of relief as the dark wine-red colors of the Zesti cola fall almost perfectly into his hand. The can is cold, cold to the point Tim almost shifts it to his other hand, yet he is just so happy to have something with caffeine in his hands that the pain is numbing.
He had fallen asleep on the bus, unable to review his notes for his exams due to the fatigue. At least he had woken up when the bus stopped, so he got to avoid the senior football players pushing each other out of the way as they raced off.
Nails digging under the tab, he pops the drink open and listens to the bubbles fizzing–before taking a massive chug, downing almost a quarter in one foul swoop.
“No sleep, hm?” A familiar voice makes his heart skip a beat, he peels his eyes open and turns to his side, a familiar blonde haired boy ambling up to him.
“Bernard!” He chirps almost happily, padding over to his boyfriend with a huge grin on his face. As much as he hates to admit it, seeing the boy makes something in his chest warm, all of the iciness melting away.
“Hey.” Bernard smiles, Tim sees his wings fluttering slightly in happiness, without missing a beat, Tim wraps one arm around his waist, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
“Hi.” He breathes out in response, all tension melting away in his shoulders as his boyfriend wraps both arms around his mid-section.
When they pull away, Tim takes another sip of his Zesti, not downing as much as he originally had, his feathers still ruffled in the way they did when he was happy.
Bernard was a Lovebird. Tim’s favorite lovebird.
Bernard gave him a quizzical look, then his eyes flitted to Tim’s feathers. Tim flushed, he knew what Bernard was looking at. In between countless hours of labor and his detective work, he didn’t have time to carefully pick and preen his wings like he usually did. Usually it was part of his routine after school, then after his nightly activities. He sits down on his bed and picks at the stray feathers until they dislodge and he feels neat enough.
Last night he had no time at all, aside from sorting paperwork until dawn, and breaking into an apartment, Tim had absolutely no time at all. He glanced down at his own wings sheepishly, guessing the question before it even came out of Bernard's mouth.
“Did you preen last night? Your wings look like shit, dude.”
Rude. Tim glared up at him, an icy glare he learned from his mother. It worked most of the time, and was extremely effective on adults.
“Didn’t have time,” he mumbled, taking another swig of his drink.
Bernard gave him a disapproving look, eyes flitting up and down, “I can tell.”
“Rude.” He muttered, feathers ruffling in offense.
“If you want, I could come over after school and help you?” Bernard’s expression was thoughtful, a bashful smile tugging at the boy's lips.
Tim wanted that. He really did. Just as much as a child wants validation from their parents. All he wanted after practically no sleep was to feel his boyfriend's hands on his wings, taking care of him.
Alas, no one can ever have what they want.
The bell rang, signaling that students had five minutes to go to their first period class. Tim and Bernard usually walked together since their classes were close together.
With one last chug, Tim downed the contents of his Zesti Cola and tossed the can in the recycle because god forbid he even think about littering.
“Got any new theories?” He asked with a hint of mischief in his voice, turning to Bernard, who had been standing there awkwardly. At the mention of his passion, he lit up like the Fourth of July.
“Oh! I’m still working on the Demigod Batman one, it makes so much sense! Like how he has more than average strength…”
Tim let the background noise of Bernard talking drift through his ears as they walked down the hall, students chatting with each other and leaning against lockers.
The two bid farewell to each other and entered their respective classes, Tim hung his backpack over his seat and grabbed his laptop and a pencil.
Sure enough, his AP English Language and Composition teacher, Ms. Price, strut into the room. Face already scrunched up and ready to be passive aggressive.
On the first day of school, she had made a slideshow with her bitmoji and a ton of slop references of stuff on the internet. It had been one of the most embarrassing days of Tim’s life.
“Good morning, I hope you guys had a nice weekend. You’ll have an hour and a half to complete your exam, after that you can read a book. That’s it, I better not see any of you students playing games or ‘hitting a clip’.”
No one laughed. Not even a chuckle from the jocks at the back of the class.
Ms. Price huffed subtlety at the lack of response, but continued anyway.
“Check Google classroom and click the link, make sure all of your tabs are closed except for the exam.”
Tim sighed and opened his laptop.
— 🪽—
And to think Tim had to do all of this again tomorrow.
After three exams, almost passing out twice, another energy drink from the vending machine, Tim was exhausted.
Yet he stepped into the barely crowded coffee shop, alerting his presence with the bell they had on top of the door, drifting through the shop with a ring!
The smell of coffee and Bath and Body works candle hit his nose, Blueberry muffin, good choice, Wren. He thought to himself.
One hand on his backpack strap, Tim sighed happily at how empty the shop was. Rush hour was usually in the mornings and he missed it due to school, but they got plenty of customers once work ended for most people.
Ginger pigtails caught his attention, the girl at the register not even noticing him, counting bills out and neatly ironing them flat.
Tim cleared his throat, alerting his presence for the second time since she had been too zoned-in to notice him.
Her head snapped up and her face shifted from confused to cheery.
“Timmy! Hi! How was your weekend?” She grinned, face beaming at just his presence. Tim sheepishly smiled and made his way behind the counter.
“Same old, how was your weekend, Cherry?”
Cherry Laine, does not possess wings.
She made pretty good use of her lack of wings, never letting other people or customers bully her about it. Just for her, they always had a step-stool in reach and placed objects at levels she could reach.
Cherry shrugged, closing the register drawer and turning her attention back to him.
“Samesies. Your shift starts in 10 minutes, you’re a bit early, buckaroo.” Cherry raised an eyebrow, now leaning with one elbow on the crowded counter, filled with displays of cake pops and pastry’s, a seasonal drink board, and their register.
“Bus was quick. Can I change in the staff room? Anyone in there?” Tim gestured to the bag still on his shoulder, smiling sheepishly.
“Uhhh, Wren might be back there. Just kick her out, you know she won’t fight you.”
Tim laughed, knowing Wren’s soft spot for him. “Thanks, Cherry.”
Cherry shrugged, “what’re co-workers for? Now shoo!”
Tim was thankful not to find Wren in the staff room, so he quickly changed out of his previous clothes and winter gear into his work uniform, tying his apron that had the coffee shop logo and name printed on the chest, the apron an olive green color.
The second he stepped back into the counter space, Cherry was already untying her apron with a sigh of relief, fingers working quickly.
“Thank god! Good luck with rush hour, dude.” The girl sighed, now with the bundle in her arms as she rushed to the staff room to hang it up.
Tim laughed nervously and quickly opened his phone to clock in for his shift. Once Cherry reappeared, now in normal winter clothes, she hugged him tightly before waving goodbye and disappearing out the door, calling out one last time:
“You’re in until nine o’clock, buster!”
Tim huffed and went through his mental shift checklist, flushing the equipment and restocking the snowflake cake pop and other items that needed restocking.
Once he was done, Wren finally decided to grace him with her presence and saunter out of the break room like she hadn’t missed the checklist and basic shift starting protocol.
Wren Parkes, magpie.
“Nice of you to make an appearance after I’m done restocking,” he snarked, he didn’t really mind doing all of the checklist alone, helped him decompress after school and rethink every decision he made previously.
Wren placed a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow at him. The older girl just shrugged before walking up to him where he stood at the register.
“Smoke break.”
“Mhm…”
“Hey, I was early and craving a cig.”
“You’re breaking company policy.”
“Like you would snitch.” She ruffled his hair harshly and he yelped and moved to fix it, scowling as Wren smirked at him, full of glee and mischief.
As she went in for the double kill, Tim slapped Wren’s hand away with one of his wings, she recoiled, then lifted one of her own wings to hit him with—
Ring!
Both workers went still and stopped their scuffle, facade shifting to one of professional. Tim felt the shame in the way his ear tips burned, he couldn’t act like some kid! Fighting like they’re siblings wasn’t professional at all.
A teenage girl, head down and clearly fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. The wings on her back were tightly drawn in, and by the looks of the card in her hand, Tim guessed she was sent to get coffee by her guardian.
She didn’t meet his eyes, stopping in front of the counter, clearly nervous.
Tim smiled as warmly as he could, trying not to seem like he hated his life and his job and scare customers. He loved his job, it paid for his equipment.
He knew a warm smile and a bright personality couldn’t fix being socially anxious, but it was nice to try.
“Hello, welcome to Coffee Cove, what can I get for you today?”
Tim could barely hear the girl as she mumbled, “one black coffee and a tall smores frappuccino.”
She cracked her knuckles despite no sound coming from her joints, by the ruffle of the feathers, she was incredibly nervous and on guard.
Tim smiled softly, tapping the order into the register and flashing the card tap, facing the device to the teenage girl.
“That’ll be $8.75, you can tap, swipe, or insert the card.” He explained, watching as the girl tapped the credit card and rocked on the balls of her feet until the machine accepted the money.
With a sharp nod to Wren, his co-worker got to work on the order, while Tim turned to the girl—who was still refusing to meet his eye.
“Can I get a name for your order?”
“Michelle…”
“Okay, Michelle. It’ll be right up.”
The rest of the night went by smoothly, Tim saw it all. From a pregnant woman exhausted from work and trying weird combinations due to cravings, and businessmen who clearly didn’t get that promotion, and by the time 9:00pm rolled around, he was spent.
The rest of his shift was spent dumping out the coffee beans, cleaning the surfaces and sanitizing, and doing a final restock for the morning shift people to pick up.
By the time he and Wren were done and dressed back in their winter gear, Tim flipped the sign outside their window and declared the store closed. Locking the door and sighing.
Wren grinned and held her hand out for a high-five, their post-shift ritual. A high-five or a fist bump for their good work.
He weakly returned it, waving goodbye to Wren as she walked the other way towards the alleyways.
The moon was already high in the sky as Tim started his walk home, feathers ruffled from the icy cold. Hands shoved tight in his pockets and hunching over to preserve warmth.
Sometimes he hated winter, with how cold it got and the winds that blew through Gotham. It was a miracle the city hadn’t been hit by a snow storm yet.
Tim vaguely wondered if he would see any vigilantes on his walk home, it was a silly thought, really. They didn’t even start patrol until 9:30-10:00. They started at those times every night, and yet Tim was still delusional.
Then he remembered he saw them practically every night, they just didn’t see him!
Puffs of air made a barely visible cloud in the air near his mouth, and Tim started his long journey to the bus stop and home.
To think he had to do it all again tomorrow.