Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

About a month after the encounter in the office, Tim is sitting alone in the lunchroom. He’s scrolling mindlessly on his phone when someone knocks on the table, startling him.

“This seat taken?” Jason asks.

Tim shakes his head wordlessly. Jason sits across from him and holds out their hand.

“I’m Jason Todd, they/them pronouns.”

“Tim Drake,” Tim says, shaking their hand. “He/him.”

“Cool.” Jason pulls out a homemade lunch. “I saw you in the office a while back.”

“Yeah, you were in there for dress code violations.” It’s one of Tim’s fondest memories.

“False accusations of dress code violations,” Jason reminds him.

“Right.” Tim smiles, just a little. “I think it was really cool of you to stand up to the administration like that. And of your dad to back you up.”

Jason smiles fondly as they pull out a sandwich. “Yeah, he’s good like that. He actually went through the dress code with me and helped figure out that loophole.”

“Wait, you two planned that?”

Jason shrugs. “More or less, yeah.”

“That’s cool.” Tim wishes he could say something a little more interesting. He’s sitting across the table from Robin, for crying out loud.

“Speaking of this school and gender stuff,” Jason says. “Did you know there’s a new program that lets kids have their chosen name on class rosters? The legal name has to stay on all the official stuff, but all the class stuff would have their chosen name.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Tim wonders if Jason knows, and that’s why they’re telling him this. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch. Even though they’re in different grades, it’s not a huge school. And besides, as far as most of Gotham is concerned, the Drakes have a daughter.

“Yeah, there’s these forms students can fill out, they have them in the office. It needs a parent signature, so that’s gonna suck for some kids, but it’s better than nothing.”

Tim frowns. “They have the forms in the office?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think they have them in those folders with like, sports permission slips and stuff.” Jason shrugs. “Do you usually sit here alone?”

“Uh, yeah?” Tim blinks. “I skipped a grade, so I don’t really know any other freshmen.”

“Hmm. Want some company?” Jason asks. “I’m not the most popular either, what with the blatant genderfuckery and being from crime alley.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine.”

Jason grins. Tim pretends not to have seen that exact grin on Robin’s face.

Tim’s crouched on the roof of a building, hidden by the shadow of a looming gargoyle. He’s peering through the lens of his camera, zoomed in so he can see the alley across the way.

Robin is kneeling next to a kid, gently wrapping her wrist. Batman is two blocks down, dealing with the men who’d tried to grab her, while Robin patches her up. That’s the system, has been since the first Robin appeared.

Down in the alley, Robin is talking. Tim can’t hear their words, but he snaps a picture of the moment the girl laughs and a wide grin stretches across their face.

They help her to her feet as Batman reappears. The girl looks up at him, and he must explain that she’s safe now, because she smiles. Tim snaps another picture. They lead her down the street, either to the nearest shelter or to Dr. Thompkins’ clinic, if her arm’s hurt bad enough.

Tim lets his camera hang around his neck. He usually doesn’t stick around after this, prefers to let the victims have some privacy. Instead, he climbs down the fire escape. He’s only a few blocks from Sid’s place, he’ll go check on them while he’s in the area.

When he gets to the condemned apartment building Sid’s taken over, he taps a rhythm onto the door. On the other side, someone taps back the answering tune. Tim raps on the door twice, and it flies open to reveal Sid’s grinning face.

“Hey rich boy,” they tease. “Nice of you to stop by.”

Tim steps inside, letting Sid hug him once the door is bolted. “I was in the area.”

“Takin’ pictures of Batman again?” Sid grins as Tim’s face flushes.

“I have stuff for you,” he says, slipping his backpack off his shoulders.

Sid leads him into the living room and helps him unpack the bag. It’s a mix of nonperishables and clothes, stuff he buys online with the card his parents never check the order history on.

“You’re a godsend, Drake.” Sid says, running their hand over a stack of thick sweaters.

“I don’t believe in god,” Tim replies.

“Yeah. yeah,” Sid waves a hand at him. “I mean it though, with the weather gettin’ cold, a lot of the kids are gonna need these. Oh, can you get more stuff that’s gluten free? There’s a girl who’s got celiac, really can’t risk it with a baby on the way.”

“Of course.” Tim makes a mental note to place an order before he goes to bed. “Does she need anything else? Like, I don’t know, prenatal vitamins are a thing, right?”

“She’s got Doc Thompkins for that stuff. Food’s the big thing for now.” Sid frowns. “Maybe some looser clothes for once she starts showin’?”

“Got it.”

“Thanks, man,” Sid smiles. It’s tinged with exhaustion around the edges, and in moments like these Tim is reminded that they’re only sixteen. Too young to be on their own.

Not that Tim has much room to talk.

“How’re things at home?” Sid asks.

Tim shrugs. “They’re gone. Have been since early September, so almost three months now.”

“Know when they’re gonna be back?”

“No, but that’s not unusual.”

Sid nods. Tim remembers lunch earlier, sitting with Jason.

“I think I made a friend at school,” he says.

“Ya think?”

“I mean, I think they wanna be friends? They said we should sit together because we’re both sort of outcasts.”

“Sounds like a friend to me.” Sid nods their head decisively. “Good, you need more’a those. Keep you company in that big empty mansion.”

Tim wrinkles his nose. He can’t let Jason visit Drake Manor, they’d know right away something was wrong. Sid claps him on the back.

“C’mon, help me get these made up into care packages.”

Chapter Text

On the first day Jason sat at Tim’s lunch table, he’d grabbed one of the name change forms from the office on his way out. It’s been a week since then, and while Jason’s sat at his table every day since, Tim still hasn’t had a chance to ask his parents about the form.

Until now.

Janet had called the day before, saying that they were about to board the flight home, and they’d be back the next evening. Tim doesn’t go out, but instead spends the night alternating between rehearsing his speech and making sure everything in the house is the way it should be. It’ll be a lot harder to convince them to sign the form if they’re already mad at him.

Jack and Janet get home just after Mrs. Mac leaves, dinner still warm on the table. Tim’s homework is finished, the form sitting on top of his stack of books on the coffee table. If he loses his nerve, they won’t notice it.

“Welcome home!”

Janet smiles tiredly at him. “It’s good to be back.”

“How was your flight?” Tim takes one of the suitcases from Jack, who nods his thanks.

“Long,” Janet answers. “And there was a screaming baby on our last connection. Honestly, if you can’t control your children, you shouldn’t bring them on a plane.”

Tim scrunches up his nose. “That sounds awful.”

“It was.” Jack reaches out to ruffle Tim’s hair. “We’re lucky you’ve always been a quiet kid.”

Tim grins. ‘Kid’ is better than ‘daughter’, at least.

After dinner, they move into the living room. Janet curls up in an armchair while Jack sprawls across the couch with a book. Tim sits on the floor by the coffee table and grabs the form.

“Um, I need a signature for something for school,” he says.

“Oh?” Jack looks up. “What is it?”

“It’s this new program, where students can have their preferred name used in class and stuff.” Tim rubs his thumbs over the edges of the paper. “So I could go by Tim, you know?”

Janet sighs heavily and Jack tosses his book onto the table.

“Really? You’re still doing this?” he asks.

Tim blinks, eyes burning. “I’m not doing anything. This is who I am.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “I’m not encouraging this. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that you’re a girl, -----.” He emphasizes Tim’s birth name, making him wince.

The paper wobbles as Tim’s hands shake. He can’t stop the tears that run down his face, but he presses his lips together. If he doesn’t make a sound, maybe they won’t notice he’s crying.

Janet stands. “I’ve had a long day,” she says. “I’m going to bed.”

“Me too.” Jack follows her out of the room, leaving Tim alone on the floor.

The next day, Jason is already at the table when Tim gets there. They’re wearing ripped black jeans and a flowery blouse, with eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man.

Tim sits across from them and slumps in his seat. He’d cried himself out before going to bed, only to spend three hours staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping.

“What’s up, Timmy?” Jason asks.

“Nothing.” Tim runs a hand over his face. It’s not a convincing lie and he knows it, but he’s really hoping Jason won’t push.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Tim just shrugs. Jason squints at him.

“Wait, do you even have food?” they ask.

Tim shakes his head. “Not hungry.”

“You have to eat something,” Jason insists. “I swear, you’re as skinny as I was before B took me in. Lucky for you, Alfred’s still trying to fatten me up.” They pull out a thermos and push it across the table.

“What is it?” Tim asks, pulling the thermos to him but not opening it.

“I dunno, some form of soup. It’s good though, everything Alfred makes is.”

“I’m not going to take your food.” Tim frowns, pushing the thermos back across the table.

“Come on, I'm not even gonna eat it,” Jason pouts. “Alfred still packs way too much in my lunches, and his food is too good to go to waste.”

Tim grudgingly takes the thermos back, unscrewing the lid. “Who’s Alfred?”

“Oh, he’s our butler.” Jason’s nose wrinkles. “That’s still so weird to say.”

The soup is tomato, it turns out. And way better than any tomato soup Tim’s had before. “Oh wow.”

Jason grins. “Told you it would be good.”

Tim just hums, drinking more of the soup. He’s about halfway through the thermos when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket, face falling when he reads the text.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asks.

“My parents are going on a business trip.” Tim shoves the device back into his pocket and stares at the thermos. The soup has lost its appeal.

“Weren’t they already on a business trip?” Jason asks.

Tim shakes his head. “They just got back.”

Jason frowns. Tim tries to keep his face blank as they study him.

“Well,” they announce, “you’re just going to have to come over to my house, then.”

Tim blinks. “What.”

“Come on, I’m not going to let you be alone when you’re already all mopey.” They pull out their own phone. “Plus you can meet Alfred.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” Tim asks. “I don’t want you to get into trouble for inviting me over without permission.”

“It’s cool,” Jason says. “I just texted B to let him know, but he doesn’t mind us having friends over.”

“Oh,” Tim picks at the edge of the thermos with this thumbnail. He can’t think of a way to get out of this without Jason being suspicious. And if he’s being honest, he does want to go. “Okay then.”

Tim meets Jason outside the school at the end of the day. Jason loops their arm through his and marches him toward a sleek black car. An older man in a suit opens the door for them.

“Does Master Bruce know you’re bringing a friend home, Mx. Jason?”

“Yep, I texted him.” Jason slides into the backseat. “This is Tim.”

“Nice to meet you.” Tim shakes Alfred’s hand and then climbs into the car after Jason.

“You as well.” Alfred closes the door after him and moves around to the driver’s seat. The drive to Wayne Manor is mostly the same as the route his parents’ chauffeur would have taken him, only splitting off at the long, winding driveway. As they get close, Tim points out the window at a nearby estate. Nearby being relative, there’s a solid three quarters of a mile between them.

“That’s my house,” he says.

“Wait, we’re neighbors?” Jason asks, peering out the window. “Nice.”

Alfred parks the car, Tim and Jason following him up to the front door. Jason shows him where to leave his coat and shoes, then drags him into the nearest sitting room.

When they get there, the couch is already occupied by a young man sitting upside down on the cushions, legs sticking up in the air.

“Dick!” Jason yells, grinning. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here!”

Dick Grayson rolls off the couch into a handstand, then cartwheels over to pull Jason into a hug. “I was in the area.”

Jason returns the hug. “I missed you, you big show-off.”

“Gotta make a good impression on your friend, here.” Dick pulls away, turning to Tim. “I’m Dick,” he says, sticking out his hand.

“Tim Drake.” Tim shakes his hand, trying not to look completely starstruck at meeting Nightwing. That would be a little hard to explain.

“Tim uses he/him pronouns,” Jason adds.

“Me too.” Dick nods. “So, you’re a friend of Jay’s from school? You look kinda young for a highschooler.”

“Uh, I skipped a grade.” Tim shrugs. “I’m only thirteen.”

“Huh, you must be pretty smart, then.”

Tim’s face flushes hot. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good.” Dick grins. “Jason’s a huge nerd, you’ll be able to keep up with them.”

“At least I’m not a theater kid,” Jason teases.

“I never did theater,” Dick protests. “I was a yearbook kid.”

“You were raised in the circus, you have theater kid vibes.” Jason sticks out their tongue.

“That’s… actually that’s fair, yeah.”

Tim shuffles in place. “I can go home, if you want to spend time with your brother.”

“Huh?” Jason frowns at him. “No, you should stay. I’m sure Dick doesn’t mind.”

“Not at all!” Dick grins. “I like to get to know Jay’s friends.”

Jason rolls their eyes. “All my friends are also your friends. Except Tim.”

“Oh!” Dick bounces on his toes. “We have three people, we can play Clue!”

“Oh shit, yeah.” Jason turns to Tim. “We can’t play with B cause he’s crazy good at it and he always wins.”

“Um, sure.” Tim shrugs. “I’ve never played before, though.”

“We’ll teach you.” Jason pulls open one of the doors on the excessively large media cabinet, sorting through board game boxes until they find the right one. They sit down at the coffee table, and Dick sits across from them. Tim sits between the two of them, facing the entrance to the room.

The game seems interesting, once Jason’s explained the rules. Dick wins the first round, just as Tim was narrowing it down to either the lead pipe or the candlestick.

The next round, Tim goes first. Due to luck of the draw, he has the culprit nailed down as Professor Plum immediately. He accuses Ms. Scarlet in the conservatory with the rope. He has Ms. Scarlet and the conservatory in his hand, but neither Jason nor Dick can disprove his accusation, meaning it has to be the rope.

Jason takes their turn, accusing Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick. Dick disproves it, but since the candlestick and Colonel Mustard are in Tim’s hands, he must have shown the library card.

Dick takes his turn, and gets disproved by Jason, with what can only be the foyer card. Tim scans his list and his hand, considering his next move, and connects the dots.

“I accuse Professor Plum, in the dining room, with the rope.”

Neither Dick nor Jason can disprove him.

“I’ve reached my verdict,” he announces.

“What?” Jason asks. “How?”

“You know if you check it and you’re wrong you’re out of the game, right?” Dick reminds him.

Tim nods, and reaches for the envelope. He reaches in and pulls out three cards. Grinning, he lays them on the table.

“Professor Plum, dining room, rope!”

“Holy shit,” Dick whispers, awed.

Jason stares open-mouthed at the cards. “How is that even possible?” they ask.

Tim shrugs. “Process of elimination.”

“Okay, so you’re not just smart, you’re scary smart.” Jason smirks. “I have good taste in friends.”

Warmth floods Tim’s chest at those words.

“I cannot believe there’s someone better than B at Clue,” Dick says, shaking his head.

“Who’s better than me at Clue?”

Tim’s head snaps up. Standing in the doorway, suit jacket off and tie loosened, is Bruce Wayne. Batman.

And Tim is better than him at Clue.

“B!” Jason jumps up and goes for a hug, which Bruce readily gives. “This is Tim. He won after only going around once!”

“Impressive.” Bruce smiles at Tim, who stands up and crosses the room and holds out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

Bruce shakes his hand. “You don’t need to be so formal,” he says. “Please, just call me Bruce.”

“Um, okay Bruce.” Tim is on a first name basis with Batman. He might cry.

“Alfred’s almost done with dinner, why don’t you clean up your game and then we can eat.”

Tim tries to insist on going home, saying he doesn’t want to intrude on their family dinner, but Jason won’t hear it. It’s a lively affair. Bruce asks Jason about their day at school, and actually listens to their answer. When Dick references an inside joke, Bruce makes a point to explain it. The dining room of Wayne Manor is warm, full of life.

When Tim finally has to go home for the night, his house has never felt more empty.

Chapter Text

Tim is with Sid, helping them pass out care packages to the other kids they look after. They come and go from the condemned apartment building, but Tim’s gotten familiar with some of the ones who’ve been around for a while. Other than Sid, no one here knows much about him. No one asks too many questions around here.

“Heya Drake,” Missy says, poking her head out of the doorway. Going by Drake is a holdover from when he hadn’t figured out a chosen name yet, and he’s pretty sure most of them assume it’s his first name.

“Hi Missy.” He hands over a bag of food and toiletries. “Haven’t seen you for a bit.”

“Got a bit of work, just temporary stuff.” She pokes through the stack of sweaters, looking for something in her size. “Guy on 82nd who does papers needed an extra hand, and I’ve always been artsy.”

Tim hesitates. “Is forging signatures… hard?” he asks.

“Depends on the signature.” Missy shrugs. “Trick is looking at the shapes instead of tryin’ to copy the name.”

Sid walks up, slapping a hand on Tim’s back. “Gettin’ into trouble, Drake?” they ask, grinning. “We’ll make a rebel ‘a you yet.”

Tim huffs, tugging the hood of his sweatshirt lower over his eyes. “Just curious.”

Missy laughs. “Sure, kid. Just don’t forget about us little people when you make it big in the forgery business.”

Sid muffles a snort. Tim says goodbye to Missy and follows them down toward the next occupied apartment.

“For real though,” Sid asks. “Why’d you wanna know about that?”

“My parents wouldn’t sign the form for me to use my chosen name at school. I thought I’d take matters into my own hands.” He shrugs. “Plus they’re out of town enough that being able to sign my own permission slips would be helpful.”

Sid nods. “Fair enough. Make sure you practice before you put it on anything official, don’t wanna get caught.”

“I know that,” Tim protests. “I’m not stupid.”

Sid flashes a sly grin. “Not so sure about that, you’re not big on the street smarts yet.”

“Better than when we met,” Tim reminds them. He’d been ten years old, trailing after Batman and Robin in a designer coat with an expensive camera around his neck. Sid had stepped in to keep him from getting mugged, and told him point blank not to go out at night dressed like a rich kid.

“True.” Sid sighs fondly. “They grow up so fast.”

“Shut up.” Tim shoves at Sid’s ribs, grinning. Sid just laughs and throws an arm around his shoulders.

After the first day Tim went home from school with Jason, it was like the floodgates had opened. Almost every day, Jason was inviting Tim to something. Usually to their house, but sometimes to a coffee shop to do homework, or to a park, or to some hidden gem of Gotham only a former street kid would know about.

Tim recognizes some of them, but he pretends to be out of his element anyway.

Today they’re at a skatepark built into an old underground parking garage. Tim has his camera with him, since it’s a Saturday and they didn’t come here from school. He’s wandering around, looking at the art on the walls. He snaps a few pictures, hoping the low lighting won’t ruin them. He ducks around a corner and finds a mural that stops him in his tracks.

It takes up the whole wall, about twenty by forty feet. A black silhouette with Batman’s familiar cape and cowl is superimposed over a cityscape at night. The cape is fully extended, and framed within the wings are two more familiar figures. Nightwing is flying through the air, escrima sticks in hand and a wild grin on his face. Robin is crouched below him, facing away from the direction he’s leaping, sticking a bandage on the knee of a kid.

It’s beautiful.

Tim stares at it for a solid ten minutes before lifting his camera to take pictures. He takes a ton, from several different angles, just to make sure he has at least one usable print. He wants to immortalize this, even just for himself.

“There you are, Timmy!” Jason says. “Don’t wander off on me like that. What’d you find?”

Tim gestures to the mural. He watches Jason see it, watches the awe and wonder play across their face. They grin, eyes bright. Tim’s seen Jason happy, but never quite like this.

“That’s amazing,” they breathe. They shake their head, as if to clear it. “I mean, it’s really well done.”

Tim resists the urge to tell Jason that they don’t have to pretend around him, that he already knows. He holds back, though. Tim made a promise to himself when he was nine years old, that he’d never put Batman and Robin’s secret identities in jeopardy.

He’s not about to break that promise now.

Jason gives the mural one last wistful glance. “Come on,” they say. “I’ll teach you how to skate.”

Tim spends all night in his darkroom, developing his pictures from the last few days. There’s a lot that are blurry, or didn’t get enough lighting, but there are some good ones too.

There’s one from three nights ago, of Batman ruffling Robin’s hair. They’re trying to bat his hand off, but grinning too widely to look annoyed. There’s a couple from last night, when Nightwing had been back in town. Tim also got several good shots of the mural from the skatepark, and he spends a few minutes just staring at them, a goofy smile stretched across his face.

His favorite, though, is the one he didn’t take. It’s of him, and it must have been taken by Jason, because he recognizes the couch from Wayne Manor. He’s sitting in profile, his hands blurry as he gestures wildly, face lit up.

Tim remembers this. They’d been watching a documentary on the rise of vigilante justice over the last few years, something they’d stumbled across while flipping through channels. It had mentioned Dick’s Robin, as the first child sidekick, and the impact he’d had.

Tim had apparently been too busy gushing over what Robin meant to Gotham, to the world, to notice Jason taking his picture. He holds it gently, like it’s one of the priceless treasures his parents dig up on their trips.

He doesn’t have a lot of pictures of himself. It’s the cost of being the one with the camera, he supposes. The ones he does have are mostly portraits, either from school or with his parents, and he hates looking at them. His face is too round, his hair too long, and the nice clothes his parents force him to wear are all skirts and dresses.

But this is different. Tim doesn’t see the girl people expect him to be, he just sees himself.

He sees a boy.

Chapter Text

Jason knocks on Bruce’s study door. They’re supposed to be doing homework before patrol, but an uneasy feeling has been gnawing at their stomach. And besides, they have everything due tomorrow done anyway.

“Come in.”

Jason shuffles in, throwing themself down onto the couch. According to Dick, Alfred had moved it in here when he’d been a kid, and had kept showing up to the study for emotional talks. Stuff that was too heavy to talk about from across a desk.

Bruce joins them. “What’s up?”

“It’s about Tim.” Jason digs their toes into the soft carpeting.

“Did something happen?”

“No.” Jason scowls. “Well, nothing specific. I’m just worried about him.”

“Worried how?” Bruce prompts.

“His parents are never home. And, I don’t know, I guess that’s a rich kid thing?” Jason shrugs. “But he’s so quiet sometimes, like he’s scared of being noticed. He gets… small.”

Bruce nods. “Have you talked to him about this?”

“I keep trying. He just shuts down, won’t talk about it.” Jason fiddles with their sweater sleeves. “And sometimes he says stuff, just casually, that kinda freaks me out.”

“Like what?”

“Just, stuff about being able to get away with staying up super late cause no one’s there to stop him. Or how his parents are lucky he’s not having a rebellious phase while they’re gone.” Jason leans against Bruce’s side. “I’m worried about him being all alone over winter break.”

Bruce puts an arm around Jason’s shoulders. “I can see why you would be worried. His parents are gone right now?”

Jason nods. “And they were only back for like, a day after their last trip.”

“Well, he’s always welcome here,” Bruce says. “If you want to invite him over, go ahead. He might not want to stay the whole break, but I’m sure you can find reasons to spend time with him.”

“And what about after break? What about when his parents come back?” Jason doesn’t want a bandaid solution. Their friend is hurting, even if he won't admit it, and Jason wants to do something.

“I don’t know.” Bruce hugs Jason tighter. “But we’ll keep an eye on him, see what we can do.”

Jason frowns, curling into Bruce’s side.

“I know it doesn’t seem like enough, but it’s all we can do for now.”

“Can’t Batman do something?” Jason blurts. “Investigate his parents or… I don’t know.”

“Not without invading Tim’s privacy,” Bruce says. And, yeah, Jason can understand that. “But I’m glad you told me. You should be proud of yourself, Jay. You’re a good friend.”

Jason smiles, and Bruce dops a kiss onto their hair.

“Now, is your homework done?”

Tim drops the form off with the secretary on his way to class. She gives him a note in return, to show his teachers until it’s updated in the system. His first two teachers don’t say anything, just make a note on their rosters. Tim gets a few odd glances from other students, but it’s not a big deal.

Then it’s time for math. He’s in an advanced class, and even though Tim doesn’t mind math, he really hates this teacher. Mr. Winters is, to put it simply, an asshole. He’s a crotchety old man who seems to think there’s only one way to learn math, and has no interest in answering his students’ questions.

More than once, Tim has ended up having to re-teach the lesson to his desk neighbors during their work time.

Tim gets to class as soon as he can. They only have a six minute passing period, and it takes him three to get from his last classroom to here. Mr. Winters is at his desk, and Tim hands him the note.

He scans it, rolls his eyes, and hands it back. “I’m not doing that.” Tim’s heart sinks into his stomach.

“It’s school policy, you have to.”

“Kid, I don’t have to do anything. Go sit down.”

Tim sits, flushed hot with embarrassment. His hands are shaking. He wants nothing more than to lay into Mr. Winters, explain exactly why he has to use Tim’s chosen name.

He’s pretty sure he’ll start crying if he tries to speak.

Once the rest of the class settles in, Mr. Winters takes roll. Tim keeps his head down.

“----- Drake?”

Tim stares at the desk, blinking back tears. The girl who sits next to him, Elaina, kicks the leg of his desk. Tim doesn’t move.

“----- Drake?”

Tim raises his head, making eye contact with Mr. Winters. It’s uncomfortable, and Tim wants nothing more than to look away, but he holds his ground.

“Ms. Drake, if you don’t answer I will be forced to mark you absent.”

“Dude,” Elaina hisses. “Just answer him.”

Tim does not answer him.

Mr. Winters scoffs, breaking eye contact to mark something on his role sheet. It feels like a victory, even amidst the roiling emotions in his chest. Besides, what‘s the school going to do?

Call his parents?

Chapter Text

Tim does not want to write this stupid essay. He has to, it’s the final for his English class and it’s worth twenty percent of the semester’s grade, but he has no idea where to even start. It might be easier if his teacher had given him clearer instructions, but no. He was supposed to ‘write about the theme of the novel’.

What the hell is he supposed to do with that?

Tim groans, pushing his laptop away and dropping his head onto the table.

“Having trouble?” Jason asks, looking up from their textbook.

“I’m about two seconds away from calculating how badly I can fail this assignment and still pass the class,” Tim grumbles. “I have a low A, so I can probably do pretty badly.”

Jason holds out a hand for the assignment rubric. “Gimme.”

Tim hands it over, not lifting his head. Last he checked his grade in English was a 91%. Not turning in the assignment at all would give him a 71%. Technically enough to pass, but he couldn’t let his parents see a report card with anything less than a B. That was unacceptable.

“Okay, what book is this for?” Jason asks.

“Fahrenheit 451.”

“Oh fuck yeah, I can help you with that.”

Tim lifts his head. “You can?”

“Hell yeah, I’ve read it like three times.” Jason shoves their own textbook to the side. “I’ll walk you through it.”

“Um, okay.” Tim grabs a notebook and a pen.

“So, first things first, what is the main theme of Fahrenheit 451?”

“Burning books is wrong?”

Jason fixes Tim with a deadpan stare. “I mean, no. But that’s what every other kid in your class is gonna write about.”

“What do you mean no?” Tim frowns. “That’s literally what the whole book is about.”

“You don’t have to burn books to destroy a culture,” Jason quotes. “Just get people to stop reading them.”

“Okay now I’m even more lost.”

Jason huffs. “Do you have your copy of the book with you?”

Tim nods, handing it over. Jason flips through, settling on a page near the end.

“Here, listen to this. It pretty much lays out the theme for you.” Jason clears their throat and begins to read. “There was a silly damn bird called a phoenix back before Christ, every few hundred years he built a pyre and burnt himself up. He must have been the first cousin to Man. But every time he burnt himself up he sprang out of the ashes, he got himself born all over again. And it looks like we're doing the same thing, over and over, but we've got one damn thing the phoenix never had. We know the damn silly thing we just did. We know all the damn silly things we've done for a thousand years and as long as we know that and always have it around where we can see it, someday we'll stop making the goddamn funeral pyres and jumping in the middle of them. We pick up a few more people that remember every generation.”

Tim hums. “So… it’s not about books, it’s about… being able to learn from history?”

Jason nods encouragingly.

“And beyond that, it’s about the danger of censoring information. If we can’t access the records of our history, we can’t learn from it.”

“Exactly!” Jason grins, triumphant. “You write your essay on that theme, your teacher will eat it up. I think I can pick out a couple more quotes you can use.” They go back to flipping through the book.

“Is this what having siblings is like?” Tim didn’t mean to say that, but it slipped out, and now Jason is just blinking at him.

“I mean, pretty much, yeah.” They shrug. “There’s more to it, I guess. But Dick used to help me with my homework when he lived here.”

“That’s cool.”

Jason flashes a crooked grin. “That sort of makes you my little brother, doesn’t it?”

Tim blushes, but he can’t hold back his smile.

There’s a notebook Tim keeps hidden under his bed, in the locked box with his pictures of Batman, Robin, and Nightwing. More of a journal, really. He’d mostly used it when he was coming to terms with his gender, to practice names and pronouns, see what fit. He’d written a whole list of names, narrowing it down until he had his top five.

He’d taken those names to five different coffee shops in Gotham. When the barista called out ‘Tim’, it had felt right.

The last page of the journal was his name, Timothy Jackson Drake, copied over and over. He’d told himself it was to get used to the name. Now he’s pretty sure he just needed to see it, when no one else would use it.

Tim pulls the journal out again. He settles onto his bed, sitting cross-legged against the headboard. He hesitates, pen hovering above the page. The house is empty, no one else around to witness the childish and stupid thing he’s about to do. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that someone is lurking in the shadows, waiting to leap out and laugh at him the moment his thoughts are visible on paper.

He shakes his head to clear those thoughts away. His pen scratches across the page, forming the letters of a name.

Timothy Jackson Wayne.

Chapter Text

“I got an A on my English paper.”

“Nice!” Jason grins. “You’re welcome for my literary expertise.”

Across the living room, Bruce laughs under his breath. Jason’s been on the phone with Tim for almost an hour now. It’s the first official day of winter break, and they’ve been trying to find an opening to invite Tim over for the last forty-five minutes.

“Thanks.” Tim laughs. “My teacher left a comment saying it was very insightful.”

“I told you they’d love it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the monarch of all things literary,” Tim snarks. “I bow before your—” Tim cuts off, a series of loud thuds sounding across the phone line.

“Tim?” Jason asks, as the distinctive sound of a phone clattering to the ground reaches their ears. “Tim!”

On the last day of the semester, Tim goes to visit Sid.

“Sorry I haven’t been around much,” he says, dropping the four bags of stuff he’d brought. “Having friends keeps you surprisingly busy.”

Sid laughs. “Don’t apologize for havin’ a life,” they tease. “It’s about time you got one anyways.”

“Shut up.” He plops down onto the floor and starts unloading supplies. “I got more sweaters, including a few maternity ones. I also got some scarves and gloves.”

“Thank fuck, it’s been a cold winter so far.” Sid makes piles, sorting the clothes by type. “Shelters are full up.”

“Is there anything specific that would help with the cold?”

“Blankets, ‘specially those silver rescue ones that fold up real small. They keep you warm an’ are easy to carry.” Sid takes the maternity clothes Tim hands them, setting them to the side. “Any hot drinks you can make by just addin’ boiled water, too. That’s more a comfort, but it does help keep warm. ‘Sides I figure there’s nothin’ wrong with wantin’ comfort.”

“I can get you some tea and hot chocolate,” Tim offers. “Coffee too, if you want it.”

“Coffee’d be great.”

“How have you been?” Tim asks.

“Not too bad. Been doing some under the table work for a mom-an-pop store,” Sid says. “Nothing bad, just unloading trucks and stockin’ shelves. They pay me decent, too.”

“Sounds like a good place.”

“Run by good people,” Sid agrees. “What about you? How’s things in rich boy world?”

“Just finished the semester at school. I got pretty good grades.” Tim shrugs. “I did get a low B in math, but that’s because Mr. Winters counts attendance in his grading and I stopped responding to my birth name when he called role.”

Sid grins. “Direct action, nice.”

“It’s not working very well, he’s still a transphobic asshole.”

“You said that friend of yours has a supportive dad, why not call in a favor?”

“I dunno,” Tim shrugs. “It feels weird asking when he’s not even my dad.”

“No shame askin’ for help when you need it,” Sid reminds him. “I’ve told you that a hundred times.”

“I know, I just…”

“It’s not how you were raised, I get it.” Sid nods. “Your parents did a real number on you, kid.”

Tim just shrugs mutely. Sid frowns, their eyes searching his face.

“Well,” they say eventually. “These supplies won’t sort themselves.”

There’s a deep voice talking, and large, warm hands gently touching Tim’s head. He blinks his eyes open. There are two familiar faces leaning over him.

“Jason?” he mutters. “Bruce?”

“Hey Tim,” Bruce says, smiling warmly. “Glad to see you’re back with us.”

Tim blinks a few times. “What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Uh, I was on the phone with Jason.” Tim frowns. “I got up to get water from the kitchen.”

“I heard you fall,” Jason says. Their face is pale. “You weren’t responding. It looks like you fell down the stairs.”

“Oh.”

“Can you tell me the date?” Bruce asks.

“December 14th, 2013.”

“Good, and your birthday?”

“July 19th, 2000.”

“And can you tell me where you are?”

“On the floor in my house.” Tim wrinkles his nose. “I don’t have a concussion.”

“Let me be the judge of that. Are you in any pain?”

Tim considers that for a moment. “My head’s kinda sore.”

“Yeah, you must’ve hit it on the banister when you fell.” Jason brushes their fingers over Tim’s forehead, right where the pain is.

“I’m going to check your pupils now.”

Tim makes a disgruntled noise when Bruce shines the pen light into his eyes, but after that Bruce is satisfied enough to help Tim to his feet.

“Any dizziness?” he asks.

“Nope. I’m fine, I promise.”

Jason frowns. “You’re bleeding. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Under the kitchen sink.”

“Let’s move in there, then,” Bruce says. “We can get you patched up.”

In the kitchen, Tim sits on the counter while Jason digs out the first aid kit and Bruce uses a washcloth to clean Tim’s face.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get a concussion,” he says, gently wiping half-dried blood off Tim’s forehead. “That could’ve been a lot worse.”

“And no one’s shown up to yell at us for breaking in, so clearly you’re home alone,” Jason adds, voice stern.

“It’s fine,” Tim repeats. “It wasn’t even a thing.”

Bruce steps back to look Tim directly in the face. “We found you unconscious on the floor. And the only reason we found you at all is because you were on the phone with Jason when you fell. Is there anyone who looks after you while you’re home alone?”

Tim shrugs. “Mrs. Mac comes by twice a week to clean.”

“And when’s the next day she comes?”

“Tuesday.”

Bruce winces. “That’s three days from now, Tim,” he says. “You could have been seriously injured and not had anyone find you for three days.”

Tim bites his lip, looking down. “Sorry.”

“No, Tim, I’m not upset with you.” Bruce sets his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “I’m just worried.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Tim mumbles.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna stop him.” Jason rolls their eyes fondly. “And I worry about you, too, you know. You’re my friend.” They hop up onto the counter next to Tim, dabbing at his forehead with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.

“Ow,” Tim hisses.

“Sorry,” Jason says. “Gotta make sure this doesn’t get infected.” They finish cleaning the small cut and smooth a bandage over it. “There, all better.”

“Thanks.”

“Tim,” Bruce says, voice gentle but firm. “I can’t in good conscience let you stay here without anyone looking after you. Jason’s been wanting to invite you to stay with us anyway, and I’d feel a lot better knowing you weren’t here all alone.”

Tim swallows hard, blinking back tears. He’s not sure why Bruce cares. Sure, he’s Batman and that’s basically his job, but this is different. Tim’s got a roof over his head, more than enough food, and no one’s hurting him. It’s not like he needs to be saved.

But if he’s being honest, he wants to.

He’s laid in bed fantasizing about Jason finding out how bad things are at home. About Bruce offering to take him in. About being part of their family. And now here’s Bruce, offering him a chance to stay with them on a silver platter. It feels too good to be true, like any minute now Tim’s gonna wake up and this will have all been a dream.

“You mean that?” he asks, voice wobbly. Bruce runs his hands down Tim’s upper arms.

“Yes,” he says. “I mean that. You are always welcome in my home.”

Tim lets out a sob, clapping one hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. Jason wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into their side.

“It’s gonna be okay, Timmy,” they whisper into his hair. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Chapter Text

Jason follows Tim upstairs to help him pack a bag while Bruce calls Alfred. Tim’s house isn’t as fancy as Wayne Manor, or as big, but it’s empty. Not of stuff, but of life. It feels like a display in a furniture store, not a home.

Tim pushes the door open to his room, the only one Jason’s seen so far that looks lived in.

“Sorry for the mess,” he mumbles. He pushes some dirty laundry out of the way with his foot, blushing.

“Eh, I’ve seen worse.” Jason shrugs. “Dick’s room was always super messy when he lived at home. Anyway, do you have a suitcase or something?”

“There should be something in the closet.” Tim points it out, moving over to his dresser.

The closet’s a walk-in. The wall to the left has clothes Jason recognizes from seeing Tim wear them. The wall to the right has mostly accessories, shoes and belts and jewelry. The back wall, however, has two levels of clothing hanging from it that they’re pretty sure Tim never wears.

The clothes are nice, probably bought for special occasions. They are also, unmistakably, “girl” clothes. Jason can see dresses in every color of the rainbow, skirts, blouses, and even a rack of high heels on the floor. They close their eyes against the rush of anger that swells in their chest. A couple weeks ago, Tim had gone on an hour-long rant about how much he hates “girl” clothes. How they make him feel wrong.

He wouldn’t keep these in his room unless he had to.

Jason takes a deep breath, refocusing on their task. They locate a couple suitcases on a shelf at the top of the closet and haul them out, dropping them onto the bed.

“Suitcases located!” they announce. “What next?” A bundle of fabric hits them in the face.

“Try that on,” Tim says.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It’s too big for me and my parents will never notice it missing.” Tim turns back to the dresser. “Besides, I think it’d look good on you.”

Jason inspects the garment. It’s a long, wine-red skirt made of a soft, stretchy fabric. It’s not exactly something they’d buy from themself, but it’s nice.

“Are you sure?” they ask.

“My parents would hate me giving my clothes away, especially to other trans people.” Tim’s voice is quiet, and he doesn’t turn away from the dresser. Jason understands perfectly.

“Well, in that case I’m raiding your closet.” Jason grins.

By the time Bruce joins them, one suitcase is full of Tim’s clothes, the other half-full of electronics and other personal effects. Jason’s wearing the red skirt and using a large black shawl they found to do Batman impressions.

Bruce leans in the doorway, smiling fondly. “Having fun?” he asks.

Tim shoots up out of his desk chair. “Sorry! We’re almost done, we just got distracted.”

“It’s fine, Tim,” Bruce assures him. “I’m not upset.”

“Oh.” Tim blushes, going back to sorting through his desk.

“Alfred’s getting a room ready for you,” Bruce says. “I assume you won’t mind taking the one next to Jason.”

“That’s fine.” Tim unlocks the bottom drawer of his desk, taking out a metal lockbox and an old teddy bear. He settles them into the second suitcase with a gentleness Jason had only seen him use when he was packing up his camera bag.

“It’ll be like a sleepover,” Jason says, settling the shawl over their shoulders. “But like, longer.”

“Okay!” Tim straightens up, closing the zipper on the second bag. “I think that’s everything.”

“Do you need to grab toiletries?” Bruce asks.

“Oh! Right!” Tim darts out of the room. Jason watches him go, laughing quietly. Bruce walks over and wraps an arm around their shoulders.

“He’s going to be okay,” he says.

“For now, at least.” Jason leans their head against Bruce. “Hearing him fall… I was terrified.”

“I know, Jay. But we’re going to take care of him.”

“What about when his parents get back?” Jason doesn’t want Tim to come back here, to this big empty house where no one cares about him.

“We’ll see.” Bruce presses a kiss to Jason’s hair. “But I’m not going to let them take him back here unless they get someone to take care of him, at the bare minimum.”

“Why can’t he just live with us all the time?” Jason pouts. “It’s not like you have a problem with that.”

Bruce sighs. “This is different from you or Dick. Tim’s parents, neglectful as they seem to be, are still alive. I’d have to make a case for severing their parental rights if I wanted to get custody. And that’s even assuming Tim wants to be adopted in the first place. It has to be his choice.”

Jason frowns. “I know, this just sucks.”

Tim comes back into the room with a small travel bag. “Okay! Now I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Bruce smiles wide. “Let’s head home.”

Chapter Text

As soon as Tim is awake, he’s alert. Before he can even open his eyes, he knows he’s in an unfamiliar place. These blankets aren’t his, and there’s too much light. His bed at home doesn’t face the window.

He’s at Wayne Manor, he remembers, in one of the spare rooms. Not a guest room, Jason had specified. The guest rooms are in a whole different wing of the house. Tim’s in one of the spare family bedrooms, which Alfred apparently keeps clean in case Bruce ever decides to spontaneously adopt a child. Again.

Tim gives himself a few minutes to just lie there and imagine that he’s been adopted. That this is permanent. It’s a silly fantasy. His parents are alive and they’ll come home eventually and take him back to that big empty house next door. He doesn’t get to stay here.

Tim shoves back the blankets and climbs out of bed. His body is still wired to his school schedule, and even without an alarm he’s woken up before eight am. Jason had said last night that Alfred usually starts breakfast around nine on weekends, but that they all tend to sleep late. They’d passed it off as not having any responsibilities, and Tim pretended to buy it.

He doesn’t know if they went on patrol last night. Usually Batman and Robin are both out on Friday nights, but Tim never heard Jason leave their room after they went to bed, even though it took him nearly three hours to fall asleep.

Tim brushes his teeth in the ensuite and gets dressed. He’s not sure if the Waynes care about getting dressed on the weekends. His parents always say he has to put on real clothes, even if when they’re gone that just means sweatpants instead of pajama pants. Figuring it’s better to be safe than sorry, Tim puts on jeans and struggles into his binder before throwing on a shirt. It’s probably a little ironic to wear a t-shirt with the Robin symbol on it in this house, but Tim always feels safe with it on.

He waits until it’s past nine to leave the room. He passes the time by reorganizing his clothes in the closet. His system at home won’t work here, mostly because he left all the clothes he hates back at his house. That had been nice, walking away from all those skirts and dresses, knowing he’d be able to open his closet and not see anything pink or flowery. At least for a while.

Once he’s sure he’s waited long enough, Tim heads downstairs. He checks the dining room first, but the lights are off and no one’s in there. The living room where he and Jason usually hang out is also empty, so he heads to the kitchen. Alfred’s there, standing by the stove.

Tim likes Alfred. He’s nice, not just polite like Mrs. Mac. It’s easy to see that he really cares about the Waynes, and doesn’t just put on an act because he’s being paid.

“Ah, Mister Drake, please have a seat.” Alfred gestures to the kitchen table. “Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

Tim frowns as he sits in one of the hard wooden chairs, folding his legs under him. Mr. Drake is what everyone calls his dad. “Please just call me Tim, Alfred.”

“Of course, Mister Tim.” Alfred nods.

Tim hides his giggle behind his hand.

“Morning!” Jason walks into the kitchen, still in their pajamas, and sits next to Tim. Apparently the Waynes don’t care about getting dressed on weekends.

“Good morning.”

“How’d you sleep?”

Tim shrugs. “Pretty good.”

“That’s good.” Jason stretches their arms above their head, arching their back like a cat. “I slept like a baby.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “You woke up every few hours crying for attention?”

Jason laughs, loud and bright. Tim can’t hold back his smile. He always feels a warm sense of accomplishment when he makes them laugh like that.

Alfred slides a large stack of pancakes onto the table, along with a plate of bacon and a dish of fruit. “Breakfast is served.”

“Thanks Alfie!” Jason chirps.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Mx. Jason, is your father awake yet?”

“I think I heard him moving around when I was headed down here.” Jason shrugs. They slide the plate of pancakes toward Tim. “Come on, guests serve themselves first. It’s one of Alfred’s etiquette rules that no one else cares about.”

Alfred tuts. “As always, it seems I am the only one in this house who values manners.”

Jason grins. “No, you’re just the only British one.”

Tim looks up from transferring pancakes onto his plate just in time to see Alfred turn back to the stove to hide a smile. Bruce walks into the kitchen, also in his pajamas.

“Morning,” he says, sitting at the head of the table. Alfred brings him a cup of coffee and he smiles up at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

“How did you sleep last night?” Bruce asks.

“Great,” Jason says. “I haven’t felt this well-rested in months.”

Bruce quirks a smile. “And how about you, Tim?”

Tim startles. “Oh, I slept fine.”

“That’s good.” Bruce serves himself some pancakes. “Have you been up long? You’re already dressed and ready for the day.”

“Only about an hour, maybe.” Tim shrugs. “My parents always say I should get dressed, even if I have nothing going on.”

Jason wrinkles their nose. “That sounds awful.”

Bruce chuckles. “Well, you don’t have to do that here. When Dick was younger we set up a rule that Saturdays are pajama days, unless we have somewhere to be.”

“He really hates normal pants,” Jason adds. “I think he’d wear leggings all the time if he could get away with it.”

“If you’re more comfortable staying dressed, you can do that as well,” Bruce adds. “We won’t make you wear pajamas.”

“No, it’s okay,” Tim says. “I like to just wear sweatpants on the weekends.”

Bruce smiles. After they finish eating, Jason helps Alfred wash the dishes while Tim heads back upstairs and changes. He throws on his softest sweatpants and swaps his binder for a sports bra, pulling the Robin shirt back on. He heads back downstairs and finds Jason in the living room.

“Wanna watch a movie or something?” they ask.

Tim shrugs. “I don’t really care.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass in Smash Bros,” Jason teases

“Hey, I’m not that bad at it,” Tim whines as he flops onto the couch. Jason laughs, setting up the console.

“Sure, for a beginner.” They hand Tim a controller. “But I have years of experience.”

Tim sticks his tongue out, choosing Link from the character select screen. “You have a head start cause you have a brother,” he points out.

“True. Which is why I need to whip you into shape.” The round starts, Peach and Link battling it out of one of the moving platforms Tim hates. He always falls off.

It’s fun, though. Jason teases him for his poor skills, but never in a mean way. They’ll brag their head off about winning, but get excited when Tim manages to get his own victory. It’s nice.

It’s like having a family.

Chapter Text

By mid-afternoon Tim and Jason have gotten tired of Smash Bros and moved on. Tim is sprawled across the floor while Jason sits in an armchair reading poetry aloud. There’s a knock at the door frame, and Tim opens his eyes to the grinning face of one Dick Grayson.

“A little birdie told me we have a new sibling,” he says. Tim’s too wrapped up in figuring out if the ‘little birdie’ comment is a pun to notice what Dick called him.

“Tim’s staying with us over the break cause his parents are overseas,” Jason answers.

“Oh nice!” Dick flops down on his back on the couch, kicking one leg up to hang over the backrest. “Are you staying for the holidays?”

“Yeah, probably.” Tim shrugs, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“Cool, do you celebrate anything?” Dick asks. “Our traditions are sort of a mash-up already, so it wouldn’t be hard to add something for you.”

“Not really?” Tim picks at the carpet. “I mean, my parents will do Christmas stuff if they’re home, but I’m not religious.”

“We have our own holiday gift exchange, but it’s pretty secular,” Jason says. “My mom was Catholic, but I’m not. And Dick’s parents weren’t religious either, right?”

“Yeah, we just did a gift exchange around the winter holidays cause it was a circus thing,” Dick explains. “Haly’s had people from a lot of different cultures and religions, so every year in December we had a party that wasn’t really for any one holiday. I mean, it wasn’t much, but it was nice.”

“Oh, and B’s Jewish, so we celebrate Hanukkah too,” Jason adds.

“I mean, I guess I’ll just do whatever you guys do,” Tim says. “I’m not picky.”

“Speaking of holiday-related things,” Dick says, kicking one leg straight up into the air. “I really need to go shopping.”

Jason snorts. “Leaving your gift shopping to the last minute again?” they tease.

“Shush,” Dick sticks his tongue out. “You know I suck at time management.” He throws his head back, groaning dramatically. “Now I have to do all my holiday shopping in Gotham.”

“Are you staying through the holidays?” Jason asks. “Usually you don’t come down for good until a few days before.”

“Yeah, Kori and Donna are doing a girls-only holiday trip, and Wally and Garth already went back to stay with their families. After that Roy and I didn’t see the point of staying if it was just the two of us.” Dick grins. “So now you get extra time with me.”

“Terrible,” Jason deadpans. “The absolute worst.”

“Don’t lie, you know I’m your favorite brother.”

Jason makes a face like they’re thinking it over. “That’s debatable.”

Dick gasps, jaw dropping in mock offense. “How could you say that?” he wails. “You’re so mean me to me.”

Jason nods, smirking. “Yep.”

Dick bursts into laughter, Jason joining him. Tim smiles, curling his legs up to his chest and resting his knees on his chin.

“We should go to the mall,” Dick suggests, once the laughter has died down.

“What, now?” Jason raises an eyebrow. “On a Saturday during the holiday season? It’s like you want us to get hassled.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Dick points out. “No one’s gonna notice us in the crowd, and even if they do it’s easier to disappear. The press won’t be able to hound us.”

Tim frowns. “Is that a big problem for you?”

“Oh yeah,” Jason says. “Being a Wayne means getting hounded by the press. It’s just part of the gig.”

“It’s the worst.” Dick nods. “But we’ve gotten pretty good and giving them the runaround. Do you not have to deal with that?”

Tim shrugs. “I don’t think the Drakes are as big of a deal as the Waynes,” he says. “And besides, I don’t really get out much.” Well, excluding his nighttime activities. But he’d have much bigger problems than getting hassled if the press saw him on one of those trips.

“Yeah, that makes sense. Do you want to go to the mall?” Dick asks.

“Um, sure?”

Dick grins and bounds to his feet. “Great! You two go get dressed.”

“But it’s Saturday,” Jason teases.

Dick pokes his tongue out. “Don’t lecture me about the Saturday Pajama Rule, Jay. I invented it. Also, it doesn’t apply if we’re going somewhere.”

“And if you’re worried about the press you probably don’t want them to see you in pajamas,” Tim points out.

Jason hums. “Good point. It’s nice to have smart people around.”

Dick makes a wounded noise. “You’re killing me! You’re killing your brother, Jason.”

“Then perish.” Jason slings an arm around Tim’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s go get ready.”

Jason was right about the mall being busy. Tim nearly gets lost a few times by weaving through the crowd faster than Dick or Jason can manage. The first store they stop at is one with a display of mugs in the window decorated with the logos of various Justice League members. Dick grabs the Flash one.

“You realize there’s a ninety percent change Wally already owns that, right?” Jason asks.

“Ey breaks mugs so often I doubt ey’ll mind having a spare,” Dick says. “Besides, I’m not going to get em just the mug.”

Jason rolls their eyes. “Dick’s friend Wally is a huge fan of the Flash. The amount of merch ey has is almost embarrassing.”

Tim pointedly glances down at his Robin shirt, then back up at Jason. Dick laughs. Jason rolls their eyes.

“Oh, uh, I don’t think I heard you right,” Tim says, turning to Dick. “What are your friend’s pronouns?”

“Ey/em/eirs,” Dick says. “They’re a form of neopronouns, a few of my friends use them.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah. Wally uses ey/em/eir, Garth uses ve/vim/vis, and Roy uses hy/hym.” At the confused look on Tim’s face, Dick continues. “Those last ones sound like he/him, but they’re spelled with a y.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Tim smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a cis person who’s so cool about pronouns,” he says.

Dick blinks at him. Jason glances between them and then bursts out laughing.

Dick sighs. “It’s not that funny, Jay.”

Jason, who is now bent double trying to contain their laughter, shakes their head. “Oh, it’s hilarious.”

“What?” Tim really hopes he didn’t just say something dumb.

“Ah, yeah,” Dick grins sheepishly. He glances around to make sure no one else is listening before leaning in so Tim can hear him as he speaks quietly. “I’m a trans guy. I’ve been stealth since I was a kid.”

“Oh.” Tim blinks. “I did not know that.”

“Yeah, I guess it never came up.” Dick shrugs. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Of course,” Tim assures him. “I wouldn’t share your secrets.”

Chapter Text

In the next store, Tim hovers by a display of leather-bound daily planners. Dick leans over his shoulder to look at them.

“Thinking about buying one?” he asks.

“Actually, I was thinking about getting one for Bruce.” Tim picks up a planner with a warm brown cover. “Does he use them?”

“He does.” Dick grins down at him. “And that’s a good idea, B really likes practical gifts.”

“Or homemade stuff,” Jason says, wandering over to them. “Since he’s rich enough to buy anything he wants.”

“That’s true, but the planner’s a good choice. He’ll appreciate it, since he’s gonna need a new one soon anyway.” Dick pokes at the display. “Speaking of homemade gifts, though, I’m knitting him a scarf.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you knit?”

“Garth gets cold easily, and Kori decided the best way to handle that was to learn how to knit vim sweaters.” Dick smiles. “It caught on, and we all ended up learning.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Jason laughs, rolling their eyes. “You’re a bunch of nerds.”

“Isn’t it kind of hypocritical for you to call someone else a nerd?” Tim asks.

Dick presses a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound of his laughter while Jason whirls on Tim, clutching a hand to their chest.

“Tim, you traitor,” they gasp. “You’re my friend, you’re supposed to take my side.”

“Okay, but I’m just saying, you’re a huge nerd,” Tim explains.

“That’s not the point!”

Dick leans over, tapping the cover of the planner Tim’s still holding. “Hey, you gonna buy this?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“We should probably get in line, then.” He nods over to the checkout. “It’s not too long right now.”

They take their spot in line, which Tim estimates will still take at least five minutes to reach the register. He fidgets with the planner in his hands, running his thumb over the stitching.

“Um, excuse me,” a voice says, making Tim look up. A young person, maybe around his age, is hovering near them. “Are you Jason Todd?”

Jason raises one eyebrow. “Who’s asking?”

“Um, I’m Saturn.” A vibrant blush covers their cheeks. “I just, uh. I think it’s really cool that you’re so open about being nonbinary. It means a lot to like, see someone like me just existing out there.”

“Oh!” Jason grins, bouncing once on the balls of their feet. “It’s nice to meet you! Cool name, by the way.”

Saturn turns even redder. “Thanks.”

“What are your pronouns?”

“Ah, I use she/they.” She holds up her phone, waving it a bit. “Do you think I could, uh, get a picture with you?”

“Sure!” Jason slings an arm around her shoulders, grinning at the camera. Once the picture is taken, Saturn stares down at their phone, smiling.

“Thank you so much.” They glance up, blushing bright red again. “I’m just gonna…” They gesture vaguely to the left and then dart off.

“Awww,” Dick coos. “That was adorable!”

“Shut up,” Jason mutters, turning away to hide their smile.

They finish checking out without another interruption and head back out into the mall. Dick and Jason bicker casually about whether or not the convenience of a food court is worth eating mall food.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Tim says, standing on his toes to try and spot a sign through the crowd.

“It’s over there.” Dick nods off to the left. “Here, follow me.” They head down a side hallway with vending machines, a bench, and two bathrooms. Tim leaves his things with Dick and Jason on the bench and heads into the men’s room.

It’s empty, thankfully. Tim knows he passes well enough at a glance, but he’s heard horror stories. He’d read something once, when he was first figuring out his gender, that’s been stuck in the back of his mind ever since. Every trans person has a bathroom story. He worries, every time, that he’s about to live through his.

The bathroom stays empty until Tim is at the sink, washing his hands. A very clearly cis man walks in, stopping just past the doorway. Tim watches from the corner of his eye as the man frowns at him. He turns around, and Tim frantically scrubs the soap from his hands, his heart rate skyrocketing. The man pokes his head out the door.

He’s reading the sign, Tim realizes, trying to figure out if he just walked into the women’s. As the man re-enters, Tim grabs a wad of paper towels and dries his hands as quickly as he can. The man gives him one last glance before heading to the urinal.

As soon as the path to the door is clear, Tim darts out into the hallway. Jason glances up at him.

“Hey, do you— Tim, are you okay?” Their forehead creases with worry. Tim crosses to the bench and drops down next to them, burying his face in his hands.

“Tim, what happened?” Dick asks softly.

Tim shakes his head, the heels of his hands still digging into his eyes. “Nothing,” he croaks.

Jason wraps one arm around his back. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Nothing happened,” Tim insists. “He just… he had to check he was in the right bathroom after he saw me.”

Dick exhales heavily and Jason wraps their other arm around Tim, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” they murmur. “I know how scary that is.”

“I just— I didn’t know if…”

“Yeah.” Jason leans their head against Tim’s.

“Hey Timmy,” Dick says gently. “Jay and I were thinking of heading out, getting something to eat on the way home. Alfred never lets us get fast food under his watch. Wanna go do that?”

Tim nods, wiping his eyes. “Can we go to the drive through? I don’t wanna talk to people.”

“Of course.” Dick grins. They gather up their bags and head out of the mall, Tim still tucked under Jason’s arm.

“You know, if something had happened,” they whisper, “we would’ve come running. We’re pretty good in a fight.”

Nightwing and Robin coming to his rescue, huh? It’s a comforting thought. Tim ducks his head to hide his smile. “Thanks, Jay.”