Chapter Text
Tim knew he screwed up, okay? He knew it as soon as he hit send.
Alfred and Jason left for the kitchen after Dick and Damian, leaving Bruce and Tim to talk. Bruce turned to Tim, face and voice grave, “Tim, I understand why you hacked into the network; it was an unidentified and you wanted to make sure it was safe. But what I don’t understand is why you looked through his files, let alone sending some of them to people. That is a major breech of security and trust. You both were getting along too, and that just destroyed everything that you both worked so hard for.”
Bruce made sure to bring the hammer down, a month of no patrolling (barring emergencies), no Titans, no computer access, and he was immediately sent to his room till stated otherwise. He heard Bruce getting up, probably to go to the Batcave or to check on Damian, but Tim wasn’t really processing Bruce’s movement, too busy in his head. When he exited the library, he heard Damian refuse to leave room, and Tim couldn’t wrap his head around that.
He just did not understand Damian’s reaction. Screaming? Of course. Slamming doors? It was a day that ended in ‘y’, was it not? Damian holing himself in his room? Only after a fight or being told off. So why was Damian in his room now? He wasn’t in trouble and he wasn’t yelled at; so, why the theatrics?
After talking to Dick though, Tim understood. Tim’s actions were not acceptable, he had disturbed a place where Damian felt safe, felt like he could be himself.
Damian was acting like Tim was going to throw open his door, take all his stuff and…
Well… that is exactly what Tim did, isn’t it? But instead of doing it to Damian’s physical room, he did it to Damian’s online safe place. The one Dick gave to Damian, the one Dick trusted Damian to use wisely.
And Tim kicked in the door, pried into all of its nooks and crannies, then- to make it worse- Tim took something personal and shared it with everybody.
When he reached his room, he sat on the edge of his bed and let his head rest in his hands.
Two days of strict bedroom only suspension, Bruce walks into Tim’s room with a, “You are allowed to leave your room; but you will not speak to Damian till he is ready for you to,” and leaves for his day at the office. It takes Tim a minute for the words to sink in, then he timidly opens his door and walks into the hall and heads to the kitchen for breakfast.
“Ah, good morning, Master Timothy. Breakfast will be done shortly please take a seat in the dining room. Masters Dick and Damian will be joining momentarily,” Alfred instructs as he finishes prepping the dishes.
Tim freezes at Alfred’s words and asks, “Damian? I thought I wasn’t supposed to see him till he wants to? Does he know that I will be at breakfast?”
Alfred hums as he walks around to a different counter to pick at some dish, “I believe Master Bruce said for you not to speak to him, and Master Dick has told Master Damian about your presence or he would have already been down. Also, meeting in a neutral territory would perhaps ease Master Damian’s nerves.”
Tim nods and hesitantly sits in his chair as Alfred begins to lay out the dishes. Soon Dick and Damian are walking in the room, Damian sitting as far as he could from Tim and Dick sitting in between them. Upon seeing the meal that has been laid out, Damian’s expression brightens as he spots a bowl of Ful Medames, loaf of Za’atar Manouche, feta cheese and olives on a side platter, and Moroccan mint tea, after taking a look at everything Damian turns to Alfred and says, “Thank you for the meal, Pennyworth. It looks marvelous.”
Dick smiling at the boy asks, “What is all this? I don’t think I have eaten this before.”
Alfred opened his mouth to answer Dick’s question, but Damian cut him off, sounding slightly excited, “This is a Middle-Eastern breakfast. The bowl is Ful Medames which is an Egyptian dish, it has boiled fava beans, chopped tomatoes, green onions, lemon juice, and garlic with some other spices, it’s texture is between soup and dip.” The teen points to the bread, “The Za’artar Manouche is a Levantine bread that Pennyworth as topped with a series of spice which is called Za’artar. The bread can be served with an array of toppings and/or dips.” Finally, pointing at the tea, he says, “If what I think is true, then this is Moroccan mint tea, usually served as a social tea, mainly sold at cafes.” After his explanation, Damian looks at his lap and whispers out, “I can’t remember the last time I had something like this.”
Tim, who has been staring at the food the whole time, can feel his heart reach out for the kid.
Because that was what Damian was. A kid. A traumatized child. A traumatized child that Tim had hurt in a similar way that his mother did.
And if that didn’t make Tim hate himself even more, nothing could. But he did hate himself more.
That meal left Tim in silence as Damian, Dick, and Alfred told eachother their plans for the day. Damian and Dick were going to give Batcow a wash, and Alfred was restocking all the medical supplies in the Cave.
When Tim was done, food tasting like ash in his mouth, his dishes left with Alfred, he heads towards to the in-home gym and pounds in a punching bag so hard his knuckles bruise, he runs on the treadmill so long his legs are cramping with overuse, and he does as many crunches as he can before his body gives out and can’t move anymore.
As he stares at the ceiling from his place on the ground, Tim thinks about how Damian sounded like Tim did as his first few months of being Robin. How scary it was, how he thought that he was unwanted. Then he turns on his side despite his protesting muscles and cries; cries for his little brother’s traumas, the ones that leaves scars all up and down his body, the ones Tim never paid attention to- he never wanted to.
He cries for the child that Damian never has been and never could be.
He cries for the child that Damian yearns to be.
After a couple more days of Damian and Tim dancing around eachother, Dick has to head back to Bludhaven and thus left Damian and Tim with no buffer. Damian becomes more confident as Tim doesn’t try to enter his hallway. Tim becomes very careful treading in the Manor, not scared- just cautious- not wanting to upset Damian.
After lunch two weeks after what Tim dubs “The Incident” Damian walks over to Tim and just stares at him, and Tim—Tim doesn’t know what to do. Does he smile? Wave? Sneak out?
But before Tim can make a decision, Damian makes one for him as the young teen asks timidly, “…Why?”
Tim’s shoulders sag as the question rings in the dining room for a minute, then he carefully looks Damian in the eyes and begins to explain, “When I first looked at the layout of the computer network, I recognized it similar to the League’s and was worried we were compromised. Then I went to Jason—”
Quickly, Damian cuts him off and asks, “Why did you not come to me? I have had more training with the League than Todd has.”
Frustrated, Tim sighs, collecting his thoughts then brings up, “I didn’t know where you were, and when Jason is here, he is either in the kitchen or library. Plus, we have been getting along recently, I-I didn’t want to jeopardize that.”
Damian gives Tim a incredulous look and points out, “You didn’t want to bother me, yet not ten minutes later you send my personal playlists to everyone? You are as stupid as I thought Drake.”
Tim bristles at the insults but stops himself from lashing out- figuring that, yeah, it does sound stupid, the Demon has a point- and continues without acknowledging the remark, “When I finally hacked into your system, I didn’t know it was yours. It wasn’t till I found those playlists that it occurred to me that it was a personal computer network, and when I recognized it as yours, I just…” Tim trails off, trying to remember what crossed his mind to lead to hit send, “I just thought it would be poetic justice, for all the times you hacked into my stuff. I thought it would be some harmless revenge.”
Damian huffs and says, “I haven’t hacked into your things in two years, barring emergencies.”
“I know, it was petty of me and I should have been a better person. I’m sorry.”
“TT,” Damian tuts out dismissively, and it grinds Tim’s thinking to a halt.
Tim takes a good, long look at Damian and sees the tension in his shoulders, the distrust in his eyes, and the slight tremble of his hands that are crossed across the teen’s chest- the signs point to Damian feeling nervous and scared- and that throws Tim for a loop. Damian being scared of Tim was the last thing he wanted. Because that means Tim is becoming like his parents; uncaring, neglectful, and someone that someone needs to be afraid of.
And that startles him so much, he feels his heart stop.
Then Tim drops to his knees and grasps Damian’s hands and begins to says what his heart has been aching to say after Dick’s explanation, “Damian, I am so sorry for invading a place where you felt safe. It was so wrong of me. And I made you feel unsafe in your own house, and I never wanted that, because I know how that feels and it is not okay to feel that way in a place where you should feel at peace,” Tim can see the tears the are forming in Damian’s eyes; but, continues anyway, “If I ever, ever, make you feel that way, I need you to tell me or show me so I can adjust my actions and words accordingly, okay?”
Damian nods, looks away for a few minutes, then with a slight quiver in this voice says, “I understand, Drake. Thank you. I forgive you for your past transgressions.” Tim nods and begins to stand when Damian latches onto his hands then speaks, “But you need to tell me as well, and I will accommodate your boundaries too.”
Tim smiles, then asks, “Can I bother you for a hug, Damian? I think Dick would be proud of us.”
With pink cheeks, Damian opens his arms, accepting Tim’s affection, with a smile hinting on his lips as Tim carefully wraps his arms around the teen’s shoulders.
“I believe he would be, Drake.”