Chapter Text
Gotham was beautiful at night. The light blues that filled the sky during the day became somber as the day continued on. Many talk of the pollution that sullied the clouds surrounding Gotham, darkening them, but Damian always found the beauty in them. They were poisoned – damaged even – but they still covered the city in a remarkable mid-night blue when night fell. Damian leaned on his desk as he looked out of the window, appreciating the view. “Maybe I’m just biased,” Damian thought aloud, “Wayne Enterprises do provide the best view.” Maybe from thousands of feet below the smog was more suffocating than beautiful. Damian could no longer tell. It felt like years since the last time he’s watched the sky from the ground.
“Quite the view, huh?” Damian didn’t turn when Tim spoke, but he did slide over to accommodate his brother when the younger man made for his desk. “It’s even better from up here,” Tim continued. The younger smiled, and Damian could feel his lips tilt when he saw it reflected in the window. It was rare for him to see Tim smile like that. They spent so much of their youth fighting. Tim stood afterwards, walking to the window and placing his forearm upon it. “It’s nice,” he said as he leaned against the window, “To take a break and look at it all.”
“I suppose so,” Damian spoke carefully. He and Tim didn’t speak often, especially over such trivial things. A conversation such as this usual cropped up between Tim and Terry. Though, since Terry isn’t here. “It’ll do,” Damian said. Tim raised an eyebrow. “The view,” Damian explained, “It’ll do. It doesn’t hold a candle to the other horizons I’ve seen.” Tim’s easy smile fell from his face.
The teenager rolled his eyes and Damian sighed. “You can’t just agree with me? Just this once,” Tim fussed. He pushed himself from the window before sulkily coming to sit by Damian again. “I heard you talk about the view from outside the door, Damian,” the younger said, “I just wanted to talk normally for once. Must everything be a fight with you?”
The question made Damian pause. With Terry everything was a fight. It worked for them. Fights were how they communicated. It was a fight that forced them to become brothers. The same couldn’t be said about Tim. Why didn’t the same approach work with Tim? More accurately, why didn’t any approach work with Tim?
“It’s quite obvious that we were not tailored for ‘normal’ conversations, Drake,” Damian answered. He could see the tension rise in Tim’s shoulders after he spoke. He knew how much Tim hated it when Damian called him by his surname. While the teen adored his father, Damian knew how excluded ‘Drake’ made Tim feel. He wasn’t a ‘Wayne’ like Damian and Terry. ‘Drake’ was a reminder of how Tim was different, when all the teen wanted was to belong. It was a reminder of all he’s lost, when Tim just wanted to focus on all he’s gained. So to get under Tim’s skin all Damian had to do was call Tim ‘Drake’, and today Damian wanted to get under Tim’s skin. It’s what he would have done if Terry was here.
Tim breathed in through his nose, anger rolling off the sound. His fist were balled at his thighs, the sides of his palms leaving smeared prints on Damian’s gunmetal desk. “Obviously not,” Tim said. He ran his fingers through his raven hair, before he snatched himself from Damian’s desk. “I just thought that since Terry wasn’t here that we could-,” Tim began but Damian harshly cut him off.
“There’s not need to behave differently because Terry isn’t here,” Damian exclaimed. He still hasn’t looked Tim in the eyes yet. “Don’t treat me as if I’m him,” the Wayne Prince proudly declared, “I’m not.”
“Clearly,” Tim snapped. He yanked the door open, nearly snatching it from the doorframe. Damian finally looked up when he heard his office door smack harshly into his wall. He sometimes forgot that Tim was that strong. Maybe that was why he riled Tim up so often. It was the only way to see the boy’s full strength. It was the only way to pull the other out of his meek and timid shell. “I told Terry that this family would be a mess without him,” Tim seethed, “And I was right. Things are already so damn hard without him here, and yet you’re still adamant about making it worst.” He ground his teeth, his jaw popping from his cheek. His eyes were lit with frustration and disappointment. “I just can't anymore,” he then left, slamming the door shut.
Damian moved from the edge of his desk to the leather chair behind it. He toyed with the handle, enjoying the darkening skies of Gotham from the corner of his eye. “Tt, about time you finally spoke your mind, Timothy,” Damian spoke to his empty office.
Ever since Terry left Tim smiled and laughed. He was an ear for Jason and a shoulder for Dick. During the day he continued as if nothing changed, going to work and leading his team in Jump City. Despite that, Damian still noticed Tim’s pain. At night the teenager paused in front of Terry’s locked door with his knuckles up to knock, always stopping himself once he remembered that no one would answer. It was heartbreaking for Damian to watch as Tim slithered back to his room. Despite their arguments, Tim was still Damian’s brother. Damian may not have been able to lend an ear or a shoulder, but he could easily burst Tim’s bubble of denial. Damian knew that anger always made Tim speak out what he’s been hiding.
Damian rose from his chair, his eyes tiring from reading the company documents that he took from Tim’s desk. He walked around the room, picking up nameless artwork that fell during Tim’s tirade. He was straightening a piece when his door opened again, a meek Timothy sticking his head in. Damian frowned. He despised a timid Tim. “I’m sorry,” the CEO said. Damian nodded, unimpressed. Tim was always sorry. If the other wanted his attention, then he should have saved the apologies. “I just-,” Tim began but Damian was already ignoring him. He wanted Tim’s truth, not his excuses. “I’m trying to apologize, you brat,” the teen exclaimed. His elder brother rose an amused eyebrow. Now they were getting somewhere. “I’m sorry for going off on you, ok,” Tim started again, “But I’ve been going through it.”
Damian gestured him in. “I know,” he said. Tim made to question him, but Damian ended it quickly. He had other things to attend to. As the sun sank lower, Gotham’s underbelly began to rise. This talk needed to be finished by then. “I may be many things,” Damian said, “But stupid is not one of them.” Tim rolled his eyes, but the other continued. “I saw you whimpering pathetically in front of Terry’s door,” Damian said teasingly. The younger brother bristled, but Damian softened his teasing smile. “I also saw you taking the brunt of Jason’s anger,” Damian continued, “And ruining your suits with the littlest one’s tears. You’ve been doing what I should have been doing.” Tim shoulders lowered. It was as if a invisible weight was lifted from them. Finally someone noticed. “I noticed,” Damian told him, “I just didn’t know how to help.”
“I just,” Tim began, but he paused. He sighed, eyeing Damian’s desk as he tried to collect his thoughts. He nibbled at his lips, and Damian could see the water gather at the rim of Tim’s eyes. “I just wanted to earn my keep, ya know,” Tim said, “Terry’s the one that give me the ok. I know that Jay and Dickie were always inclusive. Hell, I didn’t really talk until Jason forced me to.” He then looked up to Damian with a tired smile on his face. “And no matter what you say,” Tim teased, “I knew from the moment you gave me a shuriken that you accepted me.” Damian tt-ed, but he knew that Tim’s words were the truth. “But,” the younger continued, “It was Terry that said that I could stay. When the police wanted to put me in the system, Terry told them that I would be staying with the Waynes – not Bruce.” He then sighed. “I just wanted to keep my spot,” he explained, “Now that Terry’s gone, I didn’t want you all to send me away. I keep telling myself that it’s irrational-“
“So you know,” Damian said and Tim paused. “You know that despite your flaws,” Damian continued, “Which you have many of.” Tim outright laughed just like Damian wanted him to. His cheeks were slightly wet and red, but scrunched up sweetly as he smiled. Damian returned the laugh with a smile of his own. It was even less common for Damian to see Tim laugh. He reached out and placed his palm above Tim’s knuckles. They were scarred and bruised, a testament of Tim’s strength (the strength that Damian wished Tim displayed more often). He rubbed his calloused thumb along them, letting Tim know that this was beyond jokes. He meant every word of what he was about to say. “We will never abandon you, Timothy,” Damian declared.
Tim's eyes widened in shock. “I-,” he began, but words seemed beyond him at the moment. “I needed that,” he said instead, “I really needed that.” He placed his other hand atop Damian’s. “I miss him,” Tim said, “So, I can’t imagine what this is doing to you.” Damian let the smile slip from his face, and moved to pull his hand from Tim’s grasp. However Tim was faster, clenching to his older brother’s hand. “I’m not stupid either,” Tim replied with a smile, “I was there. I watched the two of you become brothers. I know this is doing something to you.” Damian looked down then. It wasn’t in his plan to expose his insecurities. “You can talk to me, too,” Tim offered.
“Tt,” Damian grunted softly, “I doubt you’ll be of any help.” Tim frowned, hurt flashing across his face. Damian was reminded of the small boy that wanted nothing more than to help. “That wasn’t meant to be offensive,” he explained, “Just honest.” The raven then rose, patting Tim as he rounded his desk and headed to the door. “Besides,” he said, “I have my ways of releasing my frustrations.”
Tim eased the frown from his face. Despite their stained relationship, he knew better than to push. “I’m sure you do,” Tim sassed instead. He placed his feet on Damian’s pristine desk, and Damian could feel his blood boil. Tim also knew how he felt about filth. The teen cracked a smile when he saw the irritation on Damian’s face. Now this was an usual conversation between Tim and Damian. There were never many words, only disrespectful actions and smug smiles. “I’m sure you do,” Tim repeated, “Don’t hurt Two Face too badly.”
“No guarantees, younger brother,” Damian replied. He could just hear Tim’s whispered ‘he never calls me that’ as he let the door shut behind him.
Brother,
I could never understand how you got that Drake boy to like you. Actually, I could never understand how you could like that Drake boy.
… I wish I was as personable as you. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to hurt in order to help.
I don’t think that I can do this.
~DW