Chapter Text
Tim was twelve. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, one Mother had picked out for him. He wanted her to see it and be happy, she was always upset when she came home now. Mother would have a reason to be mad at Tim this time. He had dropped when he was alone, which was against the rules. It was his fault, he should’ve held out longer, his parents were only gone for a month. But two weeks in he felt so small and scared, he couldn’t help but drop.
There was no rule saying Tim had to tell his parents he broke one of their rules. He was hoping they wouldn’t know. The glass he had broken had been replaced with an identical one, express shipped straight from Poland. The burn on his hand from trying to use the stove was mostly healed over. It didn’t even need a bandage anymore.
(He had told Bruce he had messed up using a bunsen burner at school. It was only the first month of his Robin training, he couldn’t let the truth get out. Bruce didn’t seem to care anyway.)
What if he didn’t need to drop again? What if Mother noticed the glass or Father noticed the burn and he couldn’t lie his way out of it? But they didn’t. They barely looked at him and for the first time Tim was grateful for it. He didn’t need to worry about not needing to drop either, he was in littlespace within the hour. There was something about his parents that made him feel small.
They had lunch together and Timmy ate as neatly as possible, knowing he wasn’t allowed to spill. He was not to speak without being spoken to either. Timmy zoned back in when he heard his name.
“...do with Tim? We can’t just leave him here,” Father growled. (They always left him home.)
“I’m not ruining my social life because our son has decided to become a baby again.” (He wasn’t a baby. He hadn’t chosen this.)
“I’m not disagreeing, but we have to do something with him. God forbid he pisses on the carpet.” (He’d only had accidents overnight, in his bed.)
“We can just bring him. It’s warm out, he’ll be fine in the car while we eat. The windows are tinted, no one will see.” (It was bordering hot, not warm.)
“Good thing we bought that car seat, then. I was hoping we’d never have to use it but the McKee’s don’t wait for anything. If we can get in their good graces…”
Timmy zoned back out. Business was boring.
After lunch he was sent to his room to sit quietly until dinner. Timmy didn’t know what time it was when Mother came upstairs and told him to follow her to the car. He hadn’t been off the estate when he was little before. Father was waiting by the rear door and when he opened it, there was a black car seat. It was the first thing his parents had gotten him for his headspace. Father buckled him in. The seat belt was over both of his shoulders and was connected to a strap between his legs. It felt secure. Father got in the driver’s seat and they were off.
Timmy looked out the window and watched the buildings go by. It felt like no time at all before they pulled into a parking lot. Father turned the car off and Mother turned to Timmy.
“We’re going to have dinner with the McKee’s. Stay here and be good, you can eat when we get home.” Mother closed the door and left.
The car was quiet. The windows were closed and the thick doors and soft interior swallowed any outside noise. At first Timmy entertained himself by looking out the window. It wasn’t very entertaining. He swung his legs and tried to stretch from the confines of the car seat. It was getting hot. The air conditioning turned off with the car. The sun was coming right through the window.
Timmy stretched again and looked back out the window, seeing only the neighboring car. The other window, another car. He couldn’t twist far enough to see out the front or back.
He was being good. He was behaving.
The car was hot. It was uncomfortable.
Maybe he could unbuckle himself? Then he could at least move around a bit. Crack the door for some fresh air. Timmy reached for the buckle and tried to press on the button, but his fingers weren’t cooperating. The angle was all wrong.
Why couldn’t he get out? Timmy’s breaths came quicker than before. He pressed and pulled but the seatbelt wouldn’t budge. He was Robin, he was training for this! The button, the button, it wouldn’t go down.
The car was so hot. The air was heavy and Timmy could barely breathe. He began to kick and thrash in the seat. He needed out, he needed OUT.
Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. At first his sobs were quiet, but then he began to wail. He screamed and gasped and then screamed again.
Nobody was coming for him. No one was going to help him. The world was growing fuzzy. There were stars, and then there was black encroaching in the corners of his vision. The air was hot and heavy and wasn’t enough.
When Tim woke up it was dark. He was still in the car, but the air was cool. Outside the window was Drake Manor. The car was empty. Tim looked down to where he was still buckled into the car seat. His pants were wet and cold and starting to feel itchy. It only took a moment to finagle the buckle open and climb out of the car seat. It was night and a few stars persisted through the smog.
Tim knew his eyes were puffy and he could feel the dried tears on his cheeks. He didn’t feel much of anything. Not even disbelief. His parents had left him passed out in the car sitting in his own piss.
He walked into the manor. There was no sound, his parents had probably gone to sleep. Tim went up to his bathroom, cleaned himself up, and went to bed. Sleep did not come easy.
[{(o)}]
Bruce carried Timmy back to the exam room. The boy was babbling on about something that was either Pride and Prejudice or dinosaurs. When he talked quickly it was hard to understand him. Dr Brenna was sitting right where they’d left her, but she had a new file in her hands. He slipped his Brucie persona back on about halfway.
“Blood test is back. Surprise, it’s a Little.”
Bruce chuckled and sat back down in the plastic chairs. Timmy was quiet now but didn’t seem uncomfortable in the doctor’s presence like before. Bruce didn’t bother to set him down, instead keeping the boy in his lap.
“There are a few ways we can go about this. It’s my preference to talk through the results when the person it concerns is big. You could leave right now and make another appointment for when Tim is big again, but I think you both want the results as soon as possible. So we can talk through it, I’ll take notes for Tim to read through later and I’m sure you can talk about it together. Or Tim can decide to come back and talk to me when he’s big regardless.”
“You’re right about us wanting to know as soon as we can. Tim will appreciate the notes later and I’ll of course talk to him about it too. But right now I think he just wants to keep playing with the cars,” Bruce said. Timmy had his eyes trained on the toys again and looked about ready to jump off his lap. Bruce nudged him to go play and Timmy had no issues complying, grabbing for the plastic cars.
“Okay then, I won’t keep you waiting. The age range here is two to four years old.”
Oh. That was younger than they had thought. Younger than they hoped, not that any age would’ve made his parents’ treatment of him okay. Would’ve made Bruce’s negligence okay. Two was young, almost a baby. In a way, Bruce knew that last day Timmy was dropped that he was dealing with someone younger than four, younger than three. Two meant incontinence and a lack of motor skills, wobbly legs and speech issues. Two meant heavy dependence. Tim wouldn’t be happy but maybe he already knew. He’d already been a Little for three years now.
“I’m sure you already know this but it bears repeating,” Dr Brenna said. “Tim is likely to drop somewhere at or between those two ages. Three-years-old will likely be the most common. So the pull-ups will definitely be handy. A pacifier is a good option for a soother, I know he mentioned having one. Toys are something specific to each Little, but things like stuffed animals, wooden toys, and seemingly plastic cars will likely be appreciated. He seems to like those,” the doctor said, looking over Timmy. The cars were now driving around the dollhouse. Well, not around, in.
“I’ll buy him anything he wants. We’re going to do a big shopping trip soon, decorate his rooms.”
“I know. Maybe don’t overwhelm the kid, though,” Dr Brenna said good-naturedly. “Something tells me he’ll be happy as long as he has someone to play with.”
“I can do that.”
“Just for the record, literally, the plan is for you to take care of him when he is little?”
“Yes, I will be the primary caregiver. I’ll have Dick and Alfred to help me of course, but I am prepared to take the necessary time off of work or work from home. You get a lot of leeway when you own the company.” It would be a big adjustment, but he was willing to put in the work if it meant Timmy was happy, if he kept calling him daddy in that sweet little voice.
(Neither of his older boys had ever called him Dad. He didn’t expect them to, but he hadn’t realized how nice it felt.)
“There are daycare options should you need them, although I understand wanting him home for a while.”
“I do. You said ‘likely’ when mentioning the age ranges?”
“Yes, it’s rare but not unheard of for a Little to drop outside that range. Usually there’s a reason why, perhaps a traumatic event causing a Little to drop younger. It wouldn’t hurt to have a bottle and a couple diapers around, just in case. It’s Gotham,” Dr Brenna sighed.
“It’s Gotham,” Bruce agreed, as much as it pained him. That was why he was Batman, so Gotham didn’t have to be…Gotham, with rogue attacks around every corner.
“The other key piece of information on the report is drop time, so how often and how long Tim should be dropping for peak headspace health. It’s unhealthy to drop for less, but also for too much more, although I wouldn’t worry with Tim. He’s probably going to be having a lot of little time in the next few months now that he safely can, it won’t hurt him. There’s no huge need to pay attention to the time range except maybe to set a minimum to get him on track. The range written here is three full, non-consecutive days within a two week period. So about a day and a half each week.”
That was…a lot more than the twice a month Tim had been doing. Bruce ran through the numbers in his head. He was starting to get a headache.
They spoke for a while longer. Timmy would need supplies and his second bedroom needed furnished. Dr Brenna recommended a traditional toddler bed, sized for a Little of course. Bruce would obviously be doing his own research but it was nice to have a baseline. The woman was writing as they spoke, taking notes for Tim as promised. Timmy was still playing with the cars. An hour and a half after they had arrived, the appointment was over.
“Timmy? It’s time to go, chum.”
“Okay.” The boy dutifully put the cars back on the floor and stood, taking Bruce’s outstretched hand. Bruce had a folder in his other hand with the results, pamphlets, and the notes.
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Thank you,” Timmy repeated.
“You are very welcome. Have a good rest of your day, folks.”
[{(o)}]
Bruce had Timmy held on his hip on the way to the car. Tim could walk just fine, but Bruce liked holding the boy. He wasn’t very heavy, for Batman at least, and it would help with the touch starvation. Timmy leaned into any affection he received. Big Tim was a lot more reluctant.
There was a car seat waiting in the back of the vehicle. It might have been a mistake letting Dick pick it out, the seat was bright red and patterned with puppies. Timmy should hopefully like it though, the partition in the car had been up so he hadn’t seen it yet. Bruce set the manilla folder on top of the car so he had a free hand for the side door. He swung it open.
Timmy froze, eyes locked on the car seat. Then he began to shake in Bruce’s arms. Tears ran down his cheeks and he began to sob loudly. Timmy buried his head in Bruce’s neck, clutching the man as hard as he could. It was so sudden, such a far cry from the happy boy on the way there, that Bruce froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. Copying something he’d seen Dick do, he paced a bit, bouncing Timmy in his arms and rubbing his back. A woman getting out of her car looked over, but there was no judgement on her face, only sympathy. She led her own Little into the doctors office.
“What’s going on, Tim?” Bruce asked. The boy didn’t respond. Bruce lowered his voice despite the parking lot being empty. “Robin, report.”
“I don’ wanna car seat,” Timmy sobbed. “I did good, I behaved.”
“You were good, I’m not punishing you. You did a very good job at the doctor,” Bruce said. Dick told him all the time about how positive reinforcement was important. “You’re not in any trouble. The car seat is because it is the law for you to sit in one when you’re little, I want you to be safe.”
“Nooooo, don’ wanna.” Clearly Timmy was worried about something, even if Bruce didn’t know what. What could go wrong in a car seat?
“The car seat is safe. I’m going to buckle you in, then I’m going to drive us back to the manor. You’ll be able to see me the whole time. Then when we get home, I’ll unbuckle you and we can go get a treat, how does that sound?” Bruce kept his voice even and soothing. Timmy had stopped outright sobbing, but still hadn’t moved his face out of Bruce’s neck. “What if I got your bunny and it rode with you?”
“No. Just me.”
“Are you ready to go home?”
Timmy didn’t answer, but he also didn’t start crying again. Bruce slowly set the shaking boy in the seat and did the buckles, making sure they weren’t too tight. It was a toddler seat with the belt coming from both shoulders and between the legs. It was very safe and secure. Bruce pulled away and grabbed the folder from the roof, throwing it in the passenger seat.
“Daddy,” Timmy whined.
“I’m right here.” Bruce made quick work of sitting in the driver’s seat, looking in the rear view mirror. “I can see you. Can you see me?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, we’re leaving now. It’s a twenty minute drive and then we’ll be home.”
Bruce pulled out of the parking lot, keeping an eye on the mirror. There were still tears running down Timmy’s cheeks. He didn’t know how to fix it. They couldn’t not use the carseat, it wasn’t safe. Bruce felt like a terrible father.
About halfway through the drive, Timmy started to sob again. God, what was he supposed to do? They shouldn’t stop, it’d likely be best to get the drive over with as soon as possible. Bruce tried to soothe him, but it didn’t seem to be working. He drove a little faster.
How could anyone hurt Tim? Why was he so afraid? Why didn’t Bruce know how to fix this?
The manor couldn’t have come into view soon enough. Bruce didn’t bother pulling into the garage, stopping just as they passed the gate. He practically flew out of the car, closing the door behind him. He circled the vehicle and opened up the side door. Timmy had started to wail and thrash, eyes closed. Bruce unbuckled the toddler and held him, walking them both to the manor. Timmy calmed down minutely, not fighting against the hold.
Dick came out the front door, a worried look on his face. Bruce passed the Little over without hesitation. Sure enough, Timmy calmed even further in the arms of his Caregiver brother. The sobs were still heartbreaking.
“Shh, baby, I’ve got you. You’re home. Let’s go find your pacifier and sit on the couch, Bruce can grab Bunny,” Dick said pointedly. Bruce began the walk back to the car.
[{(o)}]
Jason called pretty much as soon as Dick went back into the house. Well, it was an unknown number, but who else would it be?
“Hey.”
“Hey, Dickface.” Definitely Jason. “How’d it go?” Jason asked casually, like he wasn’t invested. He might’ve bugged the car so he could know the second they came back. Bruce might’ve let him.
“Well, Timmy is currently sobbing in my arms and Bruce looks completely panicked, so unclear.”
“What? I’m coming over.”
“You’re always welcome. I gotta find this little guy’s pacifier, I sent Bruce to get Bunny. He’s calming down a bit now, I’m not sure what set him off.”
“The pacifier’s in his nightstand, I think. Unless it’s been moved since I left. If that doctor did something to him, I’ll kill them.”
“I doubt the court-approved professional did anything worth murder. We can keep our options open though. Ah, found it. I’ll see you when you get here.”
“Bye, Dick.”
Dick let his brother hang up and popped the pacifier in Timmy’s mouth so he would have a free hand to grab his phone from his ear and put it back into his pocket. Timmy accepted the soother, tears abating. Something really spooked the poor thing. Hopefully Bruce would have answers. Dick absentmindedly checked if Timmy was wearing a pull-up, which he was. It was also wet. The Little looked like he was about to start crying again when Dick checked, so the man made quick work of switching it out for a new one. He also changed him into pajamas, a light blue one-piece with fish on it.
They went into the family room and sat on the couch. Bruce was only a few seconds behind them, giving Timmy the bunny like an apology. He sat on the couch as well, though not close enough to touch. Alfred came into the room with a concerned look and Timmy sat up like he remembered something.
“Treat?”
“What’s that, baby?”
“Daddy, I get a treat?” Timmy asked again, looking at Bruce. The man turned to Alfred a bit sheepishly.
“I promised Tim a treat for getting through the car ride.” Just the car ride?
“Ah, I see. Young Master Tim, is a chocolate chip cookie a sufficient reward?”
“Yeah!”
It wasn’t until everyone, even Alfie, was sat down, and Timmy was enjoying his cookie, that Dick thought to ask. “How’d the appointment go? Actually, no, might as well just wait for Jay to get here.”
“Jason’s coming?” Bruce asked, joy clear on his face. (Well, at least to the Bats.)
“Jay!”
“Yeah, baby, Jay’s coming to see you. It’ll probably be a while tho–”
“What’s up, how’s my favorite little brother?” Or Jason would arrive right now. Damn, how fast did he drive? He lived in Crime Alley, which was about as far from Bristol as it gets.
“Jay! I have a cookie!”
“Sick, little dude,” Jason responded. Dick let Jason grab Timmy off his lap and hold the boy in the armchair. Timmy offered Jay a bite of his cookie, which the man declined. “What’s this I hear about Timmy being upset?” Jason glared at Bruce.
“Hrn. We can talk about that later,” Bruce said, message clear. They would talk about it when Timmy wasn’t in the room. “The appointment went well, Tim dropped not long before halfway through when he was exposed to a concentrated pheromone packet. The office had toys so he was entertained. I did change him into a pull-up like I promised, Dick.” Dick did not point out the pull-up had been wet. It could’ve happened in the car anyway. “I have the blood results here, we talked through them with notes for Tim to read through later. I’ll talk to him too.” Bruce hesitated. “The age range is two to four.”
[{(o)}]
It was a long conversation. Timmy finished his cookie pretty quickly but had seemingly worn himself out from all the tears, and was content to cuddle up with Jason. He had taken to running his hand through the white patch in dark hair. No one had treated that spot with as much care as the Little, even Jason himself was prone to yank and pull on his hair to tame it, hide it, or just to feel something hurt.
They talked through the blood results and everything the doctor had said. Jason felt a bit out of his depth, and didn’t comment much, content to hold his little brother. He could tell Dick was halfway through a mental Pinterest board for the new bedroom/toyroom. They weren’t calling it a nursery because Tim was very insistent he wasn’t a baby. It was hard to think of another name besides Little bedroom. Or just playroom.
It was really fucking weird sitting with, with his family. Jason still couldn’t believe it half the time. He was only here for Timmy. The only reason they could speak civilly was because they were focused on Tim. But the second B started to get on him about his job, he was outta there. Well, maybe just to another room if Timmy wanted more cuddles. He might as well stay for lunch at least if Alfie was cooking. Jason had been talking to Dick a bit too on the phone, getting updates on everything, so the air between the two of them was much less tense.
The conversation wound down. B hesitated before going on, probably to the part that ended with Timmy in tears. He better not have done anything, same with the doctor. Jason would enact vengeance.
“Young Master Tim, would you like to come help me make lunch?”
“Okay.” Timmy hopped down off Jason’s lap. Jason stretched his legs, which had gone slightly numb from staying in the same position for so long. “We should have berries.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Alfred gently took Timmy’s hand with a soft smile. They left the room and Dick turned to Bruce expectantly.
“We left the office and went to the car to come home. I had the car seat in the back since the receptionist when I made the appointment said he might drop during. He saw the seat, and a switch flipped. Freeze response, trembling, then crying. He kept trying to tell me he had behaved and didn’t need to be punished.” Silence throughout the room. “It took a while to convince him to get in the car, and then we came straight here. He only started crying again ten minutes out, but I couldn’t calm him back down.” Bruce’s shoulders were hunched. Jason didn’t know what to think. Wait, yes he did.
“I’ll fucking kill them.” Jason stood up from his chair, hand going to where he usually carried a gun. He didn’t have it on him since he was going to be with Timmy. “I’ll fucking kill the Drakes. Motherfuckers!” He knew his eyes were glowing Green. The Pit was like that phrase: when you have a hammer everything looks like a nail. Jason was the hammer.
“Oh no you don’t.” It wasn’t Batman who stopped him, it was Dick, who wrapped himself around his legs like the octopus he secretly was. “Tim is family. This is a family matter. We act as a family, and we’ve decided on going the court route. You are welcome to help but you can’t kill them beforehand.”
“I want to hurt them.”
“So do I. Fucking hell, so do I. I’m not taking any high ground here, Jay. God how I’ve imagined shoving my escrima sticks up their asses. But, Tim. He wouldn’t want that. And this way, it’s going to be public. No foul play, no revenge, just the law. And maybe a bit of roughing up once they're in prison for life.”
Jason sat back down. Dick stayed curled up around his legs like a puppy. Or a snake.
“Just a little maiming?”
“It’s hard to do ‘just a little maiming.’” It was Bruce that spoke, surprisingly. Jason looked up at his adoptive father. “Once you’ve started, it's hard to stop. It’s either no maiming or a lot, and a lot is not an option.”
The three sat in silence. The air was tense. The air might never not be tense. But there was no yelling, no shouting, no punches thrown. They had a common enemy, and that was about as close as people could be.
[{(o)}]
Lunch was simple, cucumber soup and bread. And of course, fruit salad. Jason let Timmy pick the strawberries out of his own portion but refused to let the Little near his melon. That was his. They ate outside to enjoy the summer breeze. It was June and the weather had finally become consistently hot. The heat wasn’t amazing, but it was so much better than an icy cold winter.
Timmy ran around a bit in the yard with Dick. The toddler was clearly growing tired, and Dick had to carry him back to where the others were sitting. Jason was surprised he’d lasted so long with the day he’d had so far.
“Who wants to be on nap duty?”
“I got it,” Jason replied, grabbing Timmy from Dick. “I wouldn’t mind an hour of silence.”
“Remember, just an hour, Jay. Otherwise he won’t sleep tonight, his sleep schedule is screwed up enough as it is.”
Dick had told him a bit about Tim when he was big. Jason had asked, he had gotten familiar with the toddler, not the teen. It didn’t help that he'd left pretty much as soon as Tim came up last week. Timmy liked to sleep long and hard, but Tim seemingly did not agree. Dick said he had a habit of staying awake as long as possible and then crashing on the nearest surface. Jason prepared himself for a very grumpy toddler when he woke up, who knew when he’d last gotten a good rest.
Jason carried his little brother upstairs. Tim’s room looked a lot more lived in now. He’d brought all of his belongings over from Drake Manor, which was mostly clothes and pictures it looked like. Right, Dick had said Tim was a photographer. Jason climbed onto the bed, settling Timmy at his side. Bunny had been left in the living room but he didn’t seem to notice, already mostly asleep. Fuck, Jason forgot to bring a book. He resigned himself to just looking at his phone.
About a half hour into naptime, Timmy began to shift. His face scrunched up and he began to kick. A nightmare. Jason was intimately familiar with those. He gently began to shake him awake, saying his name. It took a minute before Tim shot up in bed, gasping. There were a few tears on his cheeks.
“Fuck,” Tim swore. Between his facial expression, body language, and the swearing, it was obvious he was big now. Since the drop had been artificial, none of them had expected it to last as long as the previous one. It had only been a few hours though.
“Yeah, nightmares fucking suck,” Jason commiserated. Tim turned to him, and then dropped back into the bed. He flushed as he wiped away the tears.
“Sorry about…that.”
“Eh, it’s what I’m here for. Brotherly duties and all that,” Jason said. Even when he was big, Tim looked at him like he’d hung the moon and stars. “You wanna talk about it?”
“No. I, I don’t remember much of the doctor’s appointment after I dropped. What were the blood draw results?”
“B wants to talk about it with you. I mean I’ll tell you anyway, take the edge off, but don’t tell him. Or wait, do. I don’t give a shit, it’s not like he can ground me anymore,” Jason grinned. Tim snorted, then looked up at him expectantly. “Two to four, three days over two weeks.”
Tim froze, then dropped his head into his hands and groaned.
“Kill me now.”
“Nah, I like you too much. What’s wrong with that?”
“What do you mean what’s wrong with that? It’s, it’s too little. I think I kind of knew but I had hoped…” Tim trailed off.
“I don’t think there’s any such thing as too little in this house. Dickie and B are both excited for a toddler, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen Bruce with small kids but he fucking loves them. And Dickie is a Caregiver to the max, I think he’d carry and spoonfeed you all the time if you’d let him,” Jason assured. Timmy was still frowning. He couldn’t blame the kid. Being a Sub was hard enough, he couldn’t imagine being a Little and losing that much autonomy. “If you’re ever too little for anybody, I’ll come getcha. No matter what.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll leave it up to you whether big brother Jason takes care of them or Red Hood. Do you wanna go back to sleep? You’ve got a half hour before Dick comes barging in here and he said you haven’t been sleeping enough.”
“He told you that?” Tim complained. He pulled the covers back up to his neck and turned to look at Jason. Jason was about to offer to leave when Tim spoke. “Is it weird that I want you to stay? Even though I’m big?” His voice was almost a whisper.
“Nope,” Jason responded. He got settled again too. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”
Tim did.