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It's Dick’s idea, as these things usually are.
It certainly never crossed Tim’s mind, that’s for sure.
The honest truth is, going fishing requires a kind of effort that Tim generally feels is better placed in other places. They live in the middle of damn Gotham city; the nearest water is Gotham Harbor, and no one is fishing there. They’re more likely to pull up a body than a fish. No—fishing requires a trip out of Gotham, maybe out to the ocean, or a couple hundred buck’s membership at some club or something. All that, to stand around with a fishing pole waiting for a bite.
And so. Tim, teenaged city boy he is, has never thought to go out fishing. Bruce never goes either, not really; it’s too frivolous a thing for the Batman yet somehow not frivolous enough for Brucie Wayne. Jack may have gotten the idea into his head, at some point in the past—fishing could be, after all, one of the ultimate father-son activities—but this is Jack, and a plan with Tim that would require a drive out from Gotham is a plan that isn’t happening at all.
Tim’s used to that. It’s convenient, anyways, and if it’s just a trip ten minutes to grab coffee together or something—Jack does follow through. Tim’s used to it.
Anyways.
In the end, it’s all because of Dick that Tim ever goes fishing at all.
Dick, apparently, got the idea into his head after going with Wally and his girlfriend this one time. He then promptly decided to figure out the how of fishing (take that as you will, Tim thinks) and promptly decided to drag Tim into it as well.
Dick is largely in the same boat as Tim in the fishing department, having grown up with Bruce since he was eight. (Funny, Tim thinks, with all the friends and acquaintances and experiences shared and individual Dick has had in his not-as-many-as-he'd-like-to-think years, fishing is just somehow one of the things he’s never learned to do.)
“I would've thought for sure you'd have gone fishing at some point,” Tim mutters absently.
“Hm?”
“I mean, didn't you spend a lot of time on the Kent’s farm?”
Dick laughs a little, and Tim panics for a second, because he can’t read that laugh, but he can read Dick, and Dick, it seems, doesn’t know what he’s feeling, either. “Tim, just how much time do you think I spent on the Kent farm as a kid?”
Tim is still internally panicking a little, he doesn’t know why, and he thinks Dick catches on because he loudly slams the trunk closed and announces, “Let’s go.”
Tim trails him to the docks. “We have no idea what we’re doing,” he muses.
“Nope,” Dick agrees. He doesn’t seem bothered.
Tim raises an eyebrow.
“It’ll be an adventure,” Dick sing-songs, half-mockingly, and Tim laughs.
They set up at the docks. Fishing poles, tackle, no bucket—they don’t plan on keeping anything they catch.
“Assuming we catch anything,” Tim notes drily.
Dick snorts. “Ever the optimist, aren’t ya, Timmy?”
Tim doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he’s actually having a good time.
Dick, charmer that he is, manages to strike up conversation with the next guy over, middle-aged guy with three poles and a comfy chair and a collection of bait that includes a can of maggots, ugh. That aside, the guy laughs as Dick cheerfully admits to having the faintest idea what he’s doing, and comments good-naturedly as Dick strings the poles and hooks up the bait (because they are detectives, so of course, Dick’s done his research before the field run.) He gives them tips, and Tim listens carefully, because he knows that actual advice from a real, experienced person can be so much better than hours of research from texts and videos.
Tim watches the others on the dock cast, watches Dick settle himself, prepare to make the movement himself. Tim edges away. “I’m gonna just move here so I don’t get killed,” he jokes. Dick rolls his eyes, but he’s doing the same thing half a minute later as Nice Guy (his name is Ben) steps up unprompted to show Tim how to cast.
“Should I....reel it in?”
“Hm. Dunno.”
“Do I just leave it in there.”
“Maybe?”
They don't catch anything. As a matter of fact, nothing even bites.
But they spend the hours at the dock chattering and goofing off, and they get to see an amazing sunset over the water. Ben suggests if they really want to catch something, their best bet is to catch one of the fishing boats instead, and Dick is loudly making plans as they head back to the car.
Tim smiles, only about half-listening. Dick tosses an arm around him, knocking him off balance and sending him falling into Dick’s side in that way that still surprises Tim even now. He doesn't quite let go after Tim finds his balance, fishing poles over one shoulder (“Dude, one if us is gonna lose an eye—”) and the other arm around Tim’s shoulders.
Tim carries the tackle box and listens to Dick chatter on. Ben hollers a farewell, and Tim ducks when the fishing poles sway as Dick waves back, then he shoves Dick and accuses him of trying to murder him, and Dick, offended, announces he would never commit fratricide, and through it all his arm is still warm over Tim’s shoulders and as mushy as it sounds there’s something warm inside Tim, too.
Of all the people who could've taken him fishing the first time, Tim thinks, he's glad it was Dick.