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Tim answers the door and has to do a double take to make sure he isn’t losing it.
It’s a strange sight to see his older brothers standing at the doorway. He’s used to finding them sneaking in through the window or, in Jason’s case, crashing through it. But here they are, waiting to be let inside of Tim’s penthouse like ordinary people. They even had the sensibility to ring the doorbell and not pick his lock. It gives him a momentary sense of authority over the condo Bruce still pays for.
“What are you guys doing here?” Tim means to ask evenly but it comes out vindictive. Dick frowns, Jason scoffs. Tim didn’t mean to make them feel bad for simply visiting.
“Jeez, we can’t check up on our baby bird?” Jason says, and when Tim looks skeptical, he shrugs, “We were in the neighborhood, thought we’d drop by. Make sure you were settled alright with your dude.”
Tim swallows involuntarily. An act he knows doesn’t go unnoticed by their sharp eyes.
“Where is Super-boyfriend, anyway?” Dick asks, looking over Tim’s shoulder before letting himself in. Any sense of control in his own home Tim might’ve felt is lost when Jason pushes past him, too.
“Yeah,” Jason says, following him inside. “Where’s Super-fuckboy?”
Tim stares at the doormat they were standing on just a couple seconds ago. He should’ve kept them out while he still had the chance. His fingers tighten around the doorknob as he takes a slow breath in. He doesn’t turn around just yet, holds his breath, levels his face.
“Not here,” he says to the rug before sighing into the empty corridor and closing the door. He busies himself with twisting and pulling at the various padlocks.
“How come?” Dick asks.
“He in Smallville?” Jason asks.
This might be the first time he’s actually wondered where it is Kon sleeps when he isn’t in Tim’s bed. Smallville? Probably. Makes sense that he’d go home, the farm in Kansas, not their—Tim’s condo in Gotham. He might be back in Hawaii or maybe out west with Cassie or in some completely different part of the world with someone else entirely. Hell, he could be dead for all Tim cared. The possibilities are endless.
He tries not to think about that last one though.
Tim takes another deep breath before facing them. He knew he’d have to tell people sometime; it was only fair that his brothers would be among the first. He presses his lips together and shifts his weight to his left leg. He’s over it. Been over it for days now. So his voice doesn’t shake when he tells them.
“We broke up.”
They both turn to look at Tim, who wills himself not to wince at their sorry faces. He keeps his own firmly indifferent and waits for them to say their piece or whatever it is they came here for.
His brothers’ faces are a lot like their bodies, he thinks. Dick’s eyebrows kink up and down and his mouth opens and closes uncertainly. Jason’s mug stays fixed, eyebrows drawn down and jaw clenched tight. Dick moves forward, Jason holds still. Tim steels himself to his spot at the entrance and doesn’t let himself flinch when Dick gets closer.
Jason knows better than to impede on Tim’s bubble, so he gives him space. He knows some things are better left unsaid and people left alone. Tim appreciates that, silently.
“His loss.” Dick says, placing his hand on Tim’s shoulder in a way that’s supposed to be soothing, like a dad consoling his heartbroken teenaged daughter. The hand feels heavy and unwelcome. Tim fights the urge to brush it off as he thinks about Dick intruding on his personal space. His other brother honestly believes that physical contact is affectionate and comforting to Tim. That he’s being a good brother. It makes Tim twitch. Makes him want to rip his arm off and throw it out the window.
Jason apparently reads the gesture the same way and snickers before making himself comfortable on Tim’s couch. “Good riddance.” he says, reaching for the remote.
Dick’s mouth thins into a gentle smile. Then he squeezes Tim’s shoulder again and joins Jason on the couch. Tim listens to them stretch and click the TV on.
Tim blinks. Is this really all they came for? He has half the mind to kick them out and go back to his solitude. But, he figures, he’s been alone for almost a week now. And they don’t look like they’d leave without a fight. Tim sighs silently before taking a seat himself.
They don’t directly mention it for the rest of the night. Still, Tim hears their concern in the way they articulate their questions. When Dick asks what he wants to watch and when Jason asks what he wants to eat. Tim shrugs at both and lets them make the decisions with inevitable arguing. Fortunately, things never get physical and they settle things themselves like the mature adults they claim to be.
By the end of the night, Tim’s cushioned between them. Feeling so small being nestled securely between his older brothers, protecting him from either sides. They sat together, watching reruns of Dance Moms and eating cheap takeout.
Dick pulls away from his eggroll and whistles, “Did you see that aerial? I swear to God, Brooke could’ve given me a run for my money.”
“So underrated,” Jason agrees through a mouthful of lo mein.
Tim doesn’t look up from his own carton, doesn’t say a word, either. He’s having trouble finding his appetite and has barely made a dent in his pork fried rice. While Jason trades Dick a dumpling for what’s left of his sesame chicken, Tim struggles to bring even a bite of food to his mouth. After a futile minute or two, he admits defeat and puts the container down to look back up at the TV.
He watches the girls jump and flip and groove on stage.
Nightwing and Red Hood feast on and revel at the beef going on backstage. Red Robin, true to his name, eats like a bird and stares idly.