Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rent a room, Dick said. It’ll be a nice experience. Don’t just buy a flat, that’s boring and lonely.

Tim had tried to tell his brother that maybe he prefered lonely to crazy, but Dick had insisted. And everyone knew just how difficult dealing with that could be, so he knew better than to resist.

At least, he had tried to comfort himself, he knew the people he’d be rooming with. They were all his friends, an odd assortment of assholes he’d picked up on school, summer camps, vacation trips, scientific events, even comic cons, and just… fell platonically in love with them.

Maybe, as Dick said, it would be fine.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

No, it wasn’t fine.

"Jay", he whispered into the phone, hoping he wouldn’t be heard by the others on the other side of the door. "Jay, they are crazy. I need extraction asap. We could fake my death and I can go to University somewhere else."

The older man laughed in the other end of the receiver, the sound of pages rustling indicating Tim had caught him during his daily grading paper sesion. That was the sound of crying students dying over carefully demolished arguments.

"They are all your friends, Timbo. If you fake your death, you’ll need to start over again and meet new people."

Tim hissed.

"Exactly, babybird. Also, this is day one of sharing a house, how bad can it possibly be?"

"Jay, they left the kitchen lights on. It’s daytime! Why the hell do they need the lights on? Aren’t they aware of how big the bill is gonna be if they are like this?"

"…Timmy, you… you are a billionaire. I think that should be the last of your concerns."

"That’s not the only thing. It’s so noisy, Jay. I choose the attic room hoping it’ll be nice and quiet. It’s not. I can hear everything. What do I do if some of them pair up? I’ll be stuck here listening to them having sex forever!"

"…I don’t know where to begin."

"You can start by contacting B for me. He was right when he said it wasn’t a good idea for me to live with other people. But I can’t call him to help me out of this, because I think Dick blocked my number in his phone, and my emails don’t seem to be reaching him."

"He said it because you are the purest of his children, and he knew college was corruptive enough without adding dorm sharing to it; that was his version of helicopter parenting. But Timbo, it’s moving day. You’ve been there for less than five hours. And you already emailed B?"

"The first thing Slobo did when he came in was to fart. In the middle of the living room. I can’t live with them, they are animals!"

"They are your best friends, you’ve known them forever."

"But I never had to deal with them in a closed space for an unlimited amount of time!!! I’m trapped here."

"…"

"…!"

"…Are you hiding in a closet?"

"…no. That would be stupid, in a three story house where I have my own/"

"You are, ain’tcha?"

"I am. Please help me?"

Long sigh. "I’ll meet you for coffee on the place near the Economics building so you have an excuse to be out for the evening while the others finish their moving. You’re done with your part, right?"

"Yes! Thank you!"

"You owe me."

"Next time Dick wants bonding time, I’ll sacrifice myself volunteering so you can run."

"And this is why you’re my favorite. Be there in ten."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Tim? Tim! Here you are!"

Blinking was a thing Tim suddenly remembered he needed to do, and he did it a few times as his eyes were dragged away from his book by a pair of hands on his cheeks.

"Kon? What are you doing in the library?"

The other boy was panting slightly, flushed from what Tim guessed was a desperate run there.

"I was looking for you! You never came back after classes were done for the day, and you didn’t pick up your phone. We were very worried, dude. "

"I was just studying, chill."

"It’s almost midnight."

No, it couldn’t be.

"No, it isn’t.  I haven’t been here that long."

Serious and slightly worried, Conner thrusted his own phone in Tim’s face and… uh. Look at that. It was nearly midnight.

"Oh. Got distracted with research, sorry."

"It’s been barely two weeks, how much can you possibly need to study?"

Unprompted, Kon started to help him pack his books and papers. He seemed utterly amazed by the almost illegible graphs and charts.

"No, this isn’t homework. I’m working on a thing for WE…"

The rest of the way home was spent with Tim talking Conner’s ear off about shit he had absolutely no idea about, but didn’t complain, just holding Tim’s backpack with one hand while steering his sleep deprived friend back home with the other.

-.-.-.-.-.

"Bart?" Tim yawned, getting into the kitchen and raising a confused eyebrow at his friend. "It’s… three am. What are you doing awake?"

"Stress baking", the smaller boy replied, never stopping stirring the bowl. "You?"

"Papers and presentations."

"Classes or WE?"

"Bit of both. What are you making?"

"Cupcakes. Want some?"

"They’ll go great with coffee, thanks."

They spent the next half hour waiting for the oven to do its magic talking about video games, classes and evil teachers.

"Your brother is the worst. TA. Ever. He always grades my papers and he’s a bitch about them."

"He relishes in the pain. It’s what keeps him young. I swear he never grew  past fifteen."

"It’s scary, and honestly so annoying. Like, I get pointing out mistakes, but he doesn’t need to be a passive aggressive ass about it."

"I’ll let him know what you think."

"Please don’t. I’m afraid of him, and the power he holds in his hands. The power to make me fail Creative Writing."

"Why are you even taking that class? Actually, what even is your major?"

A shrug, and before Bart could open his mouth to reply, the timer let them know the cupcakes where done.

"You can have one before bedtime, dude. The circles under your eyes look like make up at this point. "

"You are one to talk, mister Stress Baking at Three in the Morning."

"But unlike you, I don’t have to be up at the ass of dawn. C’mon, have one of these and back up you go."

"Bite me."

"I’d rather bite this peanut butter miracle, but if you insist…"

"No! Bart, get away from me!"

"Then go to bed!"

"Go to hell!"

"I AM in hell! I have Jason Fucking Todd as my TA!"

"IF YOU DON’T GO BACK TO BED RIGHT NOW, I’LL KICK YOU BOTH ALL THE WAY THERE!" Cassie’s voice echoed in the walls, and they both blanched at the reminder that her room was, in fact, in ground floor.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A part of college Tim had never considered, let alone readied himself for, was the… party bit. 

"What do you mean, of course you’re coming", laughed Anita, clutches firm on Tim’s sleeve as she dragged him into hers and Cassie’s room.

"No, I have to study for…"

"You don’t have any midterm or final this week. I know, because I checked. No papers due either. This is literally the perfect time for you to party. "

"I can’t, I…"

"Suck at socializing? Yeah, cher, I’m aware. That’s why awesome me is taking you as my plus one for this party. No need to thank me, glad to be your social buffer whenever you need me."

Tim started to resist in earnest when they got into the room and he caught a glimpse of the clothing Anita had apparently chosen for him.

"There’s no way I’m fitting into those pants! Let me go!"

"I’ve seen you squeezing your butt into the vent that one time when Kon threw the key to the coffee maker cabinet inside it. If you could get in there, these pants are a piece of cake."

"No!"

"Don’t make me hurt you, Drake."

"Anita…!"

"Ugh!" She stopped, dropping Tim on her bed and crossing her arms. She averted her eyes. "My ex is gonna be at the party. I might have been exaggerating a bit when I said I was over him, but I already promised my friends I was gonna be there. I… could really use your help here. I know it’s not your scene, but Kon and Bart have midterms, Slobo would straight up punch my ex with his astounding lack of subtlety, Miguel is away dealing with family stuff, and the girls are awesome but not really what I need right now."

A pause.

"Okay, but I’m absolutely not putting on that crop top. And we better not end up wasted, I have a reputation to uphold."

Spoiler alert: he did put on the crop top. And they had to call Conner to walk them home after the third time Tim walked into a lamp post and Anita fell into the campus’ pond.

-.-.-.-.-

They were walking back home late on a Friday when they were approached by a group of stupid, drunk dudebros. Tim was already dreading the moments to come before they even spoke, just by the way they kept eyeing Cassie’s legs and Anita’s rack. Cissie herself was wearing loose pants and a sweater, so she was safe from their disgusting examination. Not that it kept her from crossing her arms and looking down at the assholes.

"Heyyyyy, ladies. Wanna go clubbing with us?"

Tim shrugged. "He’s talking to you, girls. I’m out. Have fun."

Cassie caught him by his hoodie before he could take a single step. He heard her warning clear as day and sighed, defeated.

"Yess, you can go", slurred Dudebro number two, waving him away. "There’ three of us, and three of those pretty things. You can get lost."

"See, Cass? Hear the gentlemen. You don’t need me here."

Anita kicked him in the shin.

"No. We just got our nails done. You either solve this peacefully, or take care of it if it turns dirty. Why do you even walk us home if not to protect us from creepers like these?"

A loud ‘hey’ came from the dudebros, but Tim ignored them. Silently, he pointed at Cassie’s legs (he had seen her crushing a watermelon between them once), Cissie’s arms (a thing of beauty that made multiple lesbians all around campus cry) and Anita’s katana (that she wasn’t supposed to keep on her person around other students, but who was gonna enforce any rules on the girl with the giant knife?).

"Excuse me? You three should be protecting me. I’m a rich, sheltered boy."

Apparently done being ignored, the three idiots decided this was a good time to throw the first punch. Which Tim dodged, without breaking eye contact with Cassie. She raised her eyebrow, not moving an inch. Cissie was examining her nails. Anita’s eyes promised hell.

He sighed, turned around, caught the second coming punch, and used the hand under his palm to force the dudebro to his knees. A knee to the face and then he turned to the other two. 

Next time, Slobo was walking with them.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Flip side:  the attic room had its own bathroom. Significantly smaller than the ones on the other two floors, but hey, no sharing. 

The downside: apparently, the bathroom vents all connected with one another, and because of their aligning schedules, he often took showers at the same time Miguel did.

Flip side: Miguel had the singing voice of an angel, and the acoustic was fantastic. Showers were rarely boring now.

Downside again: Tim often forgot himself and sang along, but his voice… wasn’t as pretty.

Flip side again: at least, judging by Miguel’s smile, he found it adorable rather than pathetic.

Downside number three: Greta and Cissie’s room, by some unsolved mystery, also had connecting vents to the bathroom, and the archer girl was… less charitable about Tim’s

inability to sing.

Flip side: Greta liked him better than most of their house mates, and she had more than enough dirt on Cissie to keep her from sharing the secret of Tim’s awful voice. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Hey, baby bird. Sorry I’m calling just now, it’s been a while."

"Hey Jay. Don’t worry, you’re busy grading papers."

"How do you know?"

"Bart was crying in the tub this morning. Completely clothed and eating nachos with whipped cream, I might add."

"What is that boy even studying? I know he has Chem classes, Roy is his TA, and Kory saw him in the designer’s building. "

"That is an unsolved mystery for the ages."

"Hey, speaking of your housemates, how’s it going?"

Tim stopped on his way out of the kitchen, eyes growing fond as he examined the group on the living room. They were fighting over that night’s movie choice. He didn’t know why they tried, Greta was gonna win. Nobody could resist her and Miguel’s puppy eyes. 

"It’s… it’s been great, actually."

"Uh huh."

"But don’t tell Dick. He’ll be unbearably smug."

"Of course I won’t. You still have that time I crashed B’s favorite car on me."

"Oh, Oh fuck!" Came Slobo’s voice. "TIM, BRING THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!"

A loud crash. Tim winced, eyes leaving his friend in favor of the wall. If he didn’t see it, it wasn’t happening.

"TIM, BUD, WE NEED SOME HELP HERE!"

"…what was that, Timbo?"

"Nothing."

"TIM, TIM, THE TV IS ON FIRE!!! COME QUICKLY BEFORE IT REACHES THE XBOX OR SO HELP ME GOD I’M MURDERING EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM!"

"…Tim?"

"Don’t tell B."

"Gotcha. Going to save their lives?"

"More like hiding in my room until they sort themselves out or die. Good luck on those papers."

"Good luck on surviving."

Chapter Text

"I’m so gay", sighed Miguel almost dreamingly, stopping next to Slobo by the doors leading to the backyard.

Blissfully unaware of them, Tim was going through his usual routine of what seemed a mix of gymnastics, various martial arts and parkour, with a side of dancing to spice things up.

His friend snorted without even raising his eyes from the motorcycle engine he was trying to fix. A blasphemy, in Miguel’s humble opinion, to have such an amazing view and to not take advantage of it.

"I know."

He dropped to the ground, head resting on Slobo’s shoulder, gaze unwavering in his appreciation of slim muscles and perfectly controlled strength. Tamed power to the fullest.

"I mean like, really really gay."

"Yeah, what else is new? Pass me the motor oil."

He blindly patted the ground for it, picking something vaguely shaped like a can and thrusting it to where he thought were the other’s hands.

When Tim bends over and starts stretching, Miguel wheezes and drops the can.

"I’m so stupidly, non functionally gay."

Slobo rolled his eyes and picked it up, his other hand going to close Miguel’s jaw.

"Dude that’s all old news. Either come here with fresh gossip, be helpful, or leave. I don’t need you making a mess of my stuff. You are getting your hormones all over my individual bubble."

Miguel sighed again, eyes almost physically turning into hearts when Tim stretched his arms over his head.

"Fuck, I can’t handle this much inner gay. It’s overwhelming."

"Nothing inner about it, dude. You’re dripping it all over my work station. Can’t you go be a disaster gay somewhere else?"

"Tim is here, so no can do."

"Can’t you just ask him out and save us all the pining show and second hand embarrassment?"

A few meters away, Tim had taken out the bo staff and was practicing some moves. He accidentally brushed a branch (a thick one, from the pine tree Kon’s grandparents had made him plant upon moving there), and snapped it in half. He seemed kinda sheepish about it, which was both adorable and terrifying. Miguel was scared and horny.

"He’d destroy me."

Slobo hummed, hand reaching up to pat Miguel in the shoulder.

"Sounds like something you’d be kinda into, though."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"This coffee tastes like dirt", complained Tim, while chugging half the pot in one long gulp. 

Distantly, Cassie noted there was still steam coming out of the liquid. Hadn’t Tim just brew it? Also, was it completely dark? No sugar? 

Like her future?

Despairingly, she let her head fall again on the table.

"Why did I get into politics?"

"Your pathological need to fulfill Diana’s expectations", replied Cissie, sitting across from her, long hair in what could have been a bun once upon a time but now looked more like a bird’s nest. That had been hit by lighting. Repeatedly.

It strangely suited her. Or it could be Cassie’s adoration for her friend speaking, who the fuck knows.

"Which, I might add", interjected Tim, not waiting for them to say ‘you may’ before continuing. Because he was a rude bastard like that, "you invented by yourself. Diana only hopes you don’t end up in jail. And if it’s for the right causes, she might even forgive that."

He dropped to the ground for no discernible reason, back to the cabinets where they kept the fine cutlery they never used. He was staring at the halfway empty pot like it contained the key to conquering mankind.

Knowing Tim, it might actually be true.

"Don’t try to take over the world", she asked, worried he might. Cissie made a confused sound, not privy to Cassie’s internal monologue, but Tim just nodded distractedly, which was all she needed before turning back to her half done paper.

"How are you doing, sis?"

"Sis like sister, o Ciss like Cissie?" Came Tim’s voice from behind her, probably still sitting on the ground. 

"Yes."

"Oh", the girl in front of her blinked, "sorry, you were talking to me?"

"I mean… Tim is not ‘sis’."

"I resent that, I totally could be. Also, seriously, why does my coffee taste like dirt?"

"Don’t drink it then. You were saying, honey?"

Cassie rested her chin on a hand, elbow carefully to the side of her paper. 

"How are you doing?"

"Wondering why did I ever thought studying psychology was a good idea. Why? Who started me on this path, and can I punch them?" Her voice raised higher and higher the more distressed she got. "Tim? Do you remember?"

"Your therapist back in high school got you out of your toxic home life and helped you basically re-build your sense of self worth. Also you like to get into everyone’s business so Kon suggested making a career out of it."

"Remind me to punch him later."

"You could break your hand, and you have an archery competition this friday."

"Kick him, then."

"Got ya."

"Can I just die?" Interjected Cassie, phone at hand. Her screen displayed a text sent by a classmate, who updated her on their due date. Apparently, she had calculated wrong and it was way sooner than what she thought. "What’s the worst that could happen if I die? I’m sure people would get over it."

"You’d be losing all the progress you made in your career so far", reminded her Cissie.

Tim’s voice joined from behind. "Included, but not limited to, that one class you had with the douche professor. Imagine if you lost your progress and had to start over. Imagine having class with him again."

She shivered. "That was both incredibly motivational, and unholily terrorizing."

Greta entered the kitchen then. She looked fresh and cute, which was probably due to her having a full night’s sleep.

"Wow, you three have been here the whole night?" She asked, obviously concerned, looking over Cissie’s shoulder at her assignment. "Did you guys even make progress? At all?"  Her eyes discovered Tim’s half assed project, on the place next to where Cissie sat.

If Cassie didn’t love her so much, she would punch her in the face.

Tim sighed.

"I can’t get up. I can’t feel my legs", he admitted. Cassie thinks, she should be worried. Losing sensibility seemed like a serious problem. But, whatever, Greta was here, and she was perfectly well rested. Let her take care of the worrying.

"Tim? Oh my god, are you alright?" She rushed to his side.

"I think the coffee stopped making effect, and my three-on-a-row all nighters caught up to me. Just let me die, Greta. If coffee is not longer working on my body, I might as well let the grim reaper do its thing."

Cassie couldn’t see her any longer, since she was at her back by Tim’s side, but she could still somehow sense her concern growing.

"Tim… Did you use this bag by the coffee maker to brew it?"

"I can’t move my head to look up at what you’re pointing, but I guess I did."

"Oh, honey… that is soil for Kon’s vegetable plot. Not coffee grounds."

"…so that’s why it tasted like dirt. Thank god. Excuse me while I faint."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I think Conner is dead on our living room", announced Miguel entering the kitchen. Slobo, Anita and Greta didn’t even blink, just kept their… poker? game going.

"He’s probably just sleeping", the other man waved a hand dismissively. "Did you check his pulse or something?"

"Ew, no. What if he’s really dead? I don’t want to touch a corpse. Greta, you go touch it."

"Why me?"

"If anyone will need to put their fingerprints in a veritable crime scene, who better than the only one with no criminal record?"

"Tim doesn’t have it either, go knock on his door and tell him to do it. I’m about to swindle both these jerks."

"There’s a difference between never getting caught by the police, and erasing all virtual proof of your crimes. Tim belongs to the second group. Also, last I checked, he and Bart were working on something on his room. I’m not approaching that danger zone without protective equipment."

"Speaking of", Slobo raised his head, looking around, "has anyone bought them food in the last couple of hours?"

"Kon, probably."

"He is dead," he reminded them. "Cassie and Cissie are still asleep, and I’m not waking them up. Greta?"

Out of their group, Conner was Tim and Bart’s official handler (when Tim was not micromanaging them all, at least; little control freak).  Many people believed he lifted at the gym to get all the girls; in truth, as the boy had once told Miguel, it was so he could carry both his friends to bed in one trip to tuck them in at the same time, because if he did it separately, the one that got to be second always tried to make a run for it. 

In the event he was unavailable, Cassie took over. Her skills with a lasso and years of practice at the rodeo came in handy then, and it never failed to crack him up when he saw how swiftly she caught them both.

And if she wasn’t close or was busy, then Cissie took over for Bart and Greta for Tim, as they could only handle one at the time.

The rest of them were last resource. Second to last was Jason Todd, who as both Tim’s brother and Bart’s TA held a fair amount of power over them.

If Jason told them to fuck off, then Slobo, Miguel and Anita would talk it out among themselves. Slobo would suggest knocking them out. Which, considering Bart’s speed and Tim’s mindblowing ninja training (and where the hell did he learn that, they would never know), wasn’t a very realistic option. Anita suggested drugs; but between Bart’s ADHD medication and Tim’s antibiotics for his lack of spleen and antidepressants, the adverse effects made them all a little uncomfortable with the idea.

Miguel’s own suggestions, which involved a lot of tender care and coddling, where ignored with a few laughs and a shrug.

"Fuck you, I’m not leaving this table so close to cleaning you both up. If you are worried, you go feed them."

Slobo shrugged.

"If they die, I call Tim’s room. Having a roommate is the worst."

"Excuse you", raised an eyebrow Miguel, walking to the fridge for a drink. He might as well watch the game.

"If I have to listen to you practicing your singing before showering one more time…"

"If I can deal with you cursing at your phone at five am, you can deal with my melodious voice", Miguel blinked. "That’s not poker."

"We are playing Truco."

"What?"

"It’s a popular game in Argentina, or so Tim said. He taught us when he was having a coffee break this morning. And by the way: Truco, bitches!"

"I’m in!" Slobo yelled back.

Greta looked at her cards impassively, then at the ones laying on the table between the three of them, before raising an eyebrow. "I call Re Truco."

Miguel watched them go for a while. He wasn’t sure on the rules, but from the way they kept yelling, he knew it was highly competitive. It also seemed to involve a great amount of deceit, bullshiting and being as poker faced as possible. It made sense that Tim had been the one introducing them to the game. Speaking of…

"Maybe if I knock on the door with a coffee offering, he’ll listen to me without punching my nose in?" He mumbled to himself, aware that the others were ignoring him. Decided to test his luck, he climbed to his feet and readied the coffee maker.

The rest of the afternoon saw Miguel sitting on Tim’s bed, watching from the sidelines how both he and Bart built… something. It had a chainsaw and a mini shield, so maybe a fighting bot? There were some (not very legal) competitions around campus…

It was almost dinner time when he remembered a tiny, small detail.

"Man, I’m so hungry. You guys think dinner is ready?", asked Bart, hand sweeping the sweat off his forehead. "Who was in charge of it tonight?"

Lightning-like realization hit Miguel.

"Oh, yeah, speaking of that… Kon was probably dead, last time I checked. Maybe we should order a pizza or something?"

"Cool, I could do pizza."

"I’m sorry, Kon was what?!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You guys need jobs", told them Tim one morning over breakfast. They had just moved in together, and classes were about to start. Nobody seemed willing to talk about responsibility yet, but he felt like they needed the push to do it.

"I have a job", proudly smiled Bart, eyes never leaving the TV where his character was beating Kon’s into a bloody plump. He didn’t elaborate past that, and Tim made a mental note to investigate further later. Bart’s career was enough, they needn’t add another unsolved mystery.

"Where is this coming from, though? We have loads of time for that", scoffed Slobo, watching the game intently.

"Classes are starting soon, and people will be getting all the good jobs. I did some calculations, and the money you guys have been saving for living expenses will run out in two, three months tops. Greta has the coffee shop thing and Cassie just got called back from the movie theatre, but the rest of you need to find some money maker. Stat."

"And what about you?", threw Cissie back, internally agreeing with him but despising the reality check.

Tim looked at her, completely deadpan. Silently, he took out his wallet, fishing three cards (one silver, one golden and one black) from it and showing them to her.

"Even before being adopted by a billionaire, I already was a rich trust fund baby. And now that I’ve said it, I’m gonna avoid getting punched by making my exit. Good luck job hunting."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cassie and Anita’s room was ground floor, along with the kitchen, living room, laundry area, a medium size bathroom with a shower, and a very small one with only the toilet and sink. The second floor housed Bart and Conner’s room, along with Miguel and Slobo’s, and Cissie and Greta’s, plus the biggest bathroom, with both a tub and shower. The attic had been claimed by Tim, who won that right by paying the deposit for the house on top of his part of the rent. It was the biggest room, the size of the entire house without partitions, with only one separation in the form of the small sized bathroom. He loved his room, would pay twice what he coughed up to have it. It was worth it, every cent.

He loved his attic; The bathroom, however, was another thing. It ran out of warm water constantly.

"This is the second time this month. I love you, but you aren’t burrowing our bath", denied Cissie firmly, arms crossed as she waited outside the door for Greta to finish her shower. "If it was any other day I’d say yes, you know I would, but you aren’t the only one that needs to get ready for the movie, and there’s six of us sharing here. Go ask the girls."

Defeated but understanding, he went another floor down, arms full with his skin and hair care products (he had a image to keep, and one never knew when paparazzi would be around; he and his brothers had a steady competition on who got caught in camera being a ugly mess the least, that he wasn’t willing to lose) and clean clothes. 

Anita shrugged when she opened the door, still naked except from her towel and hair dripping.

"Yeah, Cassie already took hers. Just remember to lock the door, dude. Since its ground floor bathroom, someone always tries to get in to pee when you’re showering, it’s annoying. Also, don’t come at me with complains about hair in the drain, okay?"

Thankful beyond caring, he nodded and hurried towards it.

He wasn’t expecting what he found there. Already halfway to the shower, he stopped to leave his folded clothes on top of the cabinet near the sink when he saw…

"Why are there weapons here?", he couldn’t help but scream, clutching a towel to his naked chest. He felt distinctly like a victorian lady preserving her virtue from a foe. It was a very curious feeling.

"I said no judgements!!" Anita yelled back from across the hallway.

"Yeah, regarding hair on the floor! Nobody said anything about weapons!"

"So I forgot my katana there after my shower, big deal. Just don’t fall on it, problem solved."

"No, I’m used to seeing your katana, but why the fuck do you girls have cat shaped brass knuckles?"

"They are cute and useful! Aren’t you taking a shower, dude? The movie starts soon!"

Deciding that this wasn’t a battle worth picking, he turned on the warm water. Ahh, nice, wonderful hot water.

"Oh, Tim!", came Cassie’s yell. "Don’t lock the door, forget what Anita said! I need to put on my make up and that mirror is better than the one in our room."

"I’m gonna be showering though."

"And?"

Yeah, she had a point. Shrugging, he made sure the door was unlocked before stepping under the water and closing the curtain.

He heard her coming in and rummaging through one of the little bags he saw on the sink cabinet. He couldn’t help but ask.

"Why do you guys keep weapons here?"

"They are for when we are most vulnerable."

"With thighs like yours you’re never vulnerable."

"I love you. But just pretend I have noodle legs, for argument’s sake."

"Mkay."

"Well, name one instance when you’re more weak and exposed than when you’re taking a shower."

"…Yeah, I follow. Still seems a bit excessive, but I do like that pointy needle thing you have by the blow dryer. I need to get my sister one of those, cute and deadly like her."

"That? Oh, honey, no, that’s a hair pin."

"If you put your hair in a bun and use that as an ornament, you’d never be unarmed, that’s all I’m saying. Again, cute and deadly."

"…You’ve opened my eyes."

"You’re welcome. May I borrow your eyeliner?"

"Sure, but why? You don’t usually use makeup."

"If I make myself long enough wings, maybe I’ll be able to fly away from my problems. Or look fabulous enough to not care about them."

"In moments like this I’m reminded of my undying love for you. Do my eyes too."

"Gotcha."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He came home five minutes after receiving the text, chest heaving from the run and heart beating furiously for a entirely different reason.

Cassie, phone at hand, was waiting by the door. Her eyes were solemn.

"What happened?", he asked, not bothering with niceties as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"Family dinner went wrong", she shrugged, "not that he told me. Bart was playing games when he walked in and he texted Jason, who told him, and then he came to me."

Fuck them, Kon thought uncharitably. The Waynes were both an awesome family, and boarding on toxic. Guessing which kind were they going to be any given week was like playing lottery. It was such a Murphy law thing that they went for shitty this particular weekend, where Tim could have used their love and support the most.

"How is Jason?", he asked, not that he cared too much, but because he knew Tim would want to know sooner or later.

"Bart didn’t say, but he did mention he was hanging out with Kori and Roy, and Artemis said in the family group chat to not bother her tonight, so I’m assuming she’s there too."

"Biz is still at the farm, but three is better than nothing", he sighed, taking off his coat and walking towards the stairs. "Bart?"

"He just convinced Tim to take a bath in the big tub, so he’s probably standing guard by the door."

A nod, Kon’s steps hurried with purpose now that he had a clear destination in mind.

"The others?"

Cassie waved vaguely towards the arch on the wall leading to the living room. Kon could see someone moving there from the corner of his eye, but didn’t turn to check; he wouldn’t be derailed from his path.

"Greta went to the attic to clean Tim’s room a bit. You know he doesn’t have the strength to do it himself right now, but seeing it like that also makes him feel worse. Cissie and Anita are readying the living room for a movie night, picking up all the pillows and blankets in the house. A pillow fort might be in the making."

They were on the second floor now. Kon could see Bart ahead, back resting against the wall, just by the side of the door.

"Slobo ran to Tim’s favorite pizza place", Cassie kept going, keeping pace with him, "and should be back soon; Miguel went to the store to buy comfort food, sweets and stuff. Ice cream too, probably."

Conner nodded again, glad to see everyone was following their protocol for these kind of situations. All their housemates accounted for, he stopped in front of Bart and patted his shoulder comfortingly. He was very empathetic, tended to pick up on everyone’s moods, specially Tim’s, and let himself be influenced by them. The shadows on his eyes were probably a mirror image of how their friend currently taking a bath was doing. Not so hot, apparently.

"I’ll take it from here, you guys go put on your pajamas and help the girls get everything ready", he suggested, eyes going to Cassie’s. She nodded, understanding that her mission now was to calm Bart down. Helping Anita and Cissie would do wonders for him.

On most situations, the group tended to follow Tim’s lead, their indisputable commander in chief; when he couldn’t be there, or was too emotionally compromised, Cassie would take over. However, in this particular scenario, everyone deferred to him for some reason. Maybe because he’s been with Tim for the longest time, maybe because he knew him best. It didn’t matter; all he cared about was that it made his work easier, and they seemed glad to have a task they could focus on, rather than dwelling in concern.

Softly, he rapped his knuckles against the door.

"Tim? I’m coming in, dude", he informed him, voice low as to not spook him if he was dissociating. The last they needed was him slipping in the shower.

When no answer came, he entered the steamy bathroom, door closing behind him. As Cassie had predicted, Tim was sitting in the almost full tub, knees hugged to his chest and chin resting above them. His eyes went to Conner when he approached him though, which was a good enough sign to make him visibly sigh in relief.

Tim’s eyes narrowed, as if he wanted to snap at him that he didn’t need them to take care of him, but then he just deflated and looked ahead again, not nearly strong enough to fight.

Knot growing on his chest, Kon sat by the tub’s edge. "Hey there. You’re not looking very cool right now. Have I ever told you I despise like 66% of your family?"

"Three out of six is not 66%."

"Three? I only like Alfred and Cass."

"You don’t dislike Jason."

"I mean, it varies from moment to moment. But I’ll give you that since you’re feeling bad, and concede on 50%."

Tim snorted a little, and his eyes didn’t look as dead as they had when Kon first came in, so he gave himself infinite Best Friend points.

"Want to talk about it?", he asked gently, hand on Tim’s wet shoulder. He felt more like saw him shrug.

"Nothing to tell, really… It was more of the same shit. I love them, but sometimes they…"

"Don’t make it easy, huh?"

"…yeah. I don’t even know why I’m so fucked up over it, I’m used to this."

Kon squeezed his shoulder. "Your psychiatrist warned you, this week was gonna be tough even without the family drama.  Your body is adjusting to the new medication, and it…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know", he sighs, sinking deeper into the water. "I just… I just hate this. That my brain works like that, that I worry you all, that I can’t just fucking deal with it alone. You know what Jack used to say about mental illness…"

"A stupid bastard’s words shouldn’t be taken seriously. And you know we don’t like the J word in this house, it’s one of the rules."

Tim’s smile, small and tentative, was a thing of beauty. It never failed to remind Kon why he put so much effort into making the situation better for his friend, when he saw that it actually did help.

"You guys can’t just erase my father from my memory by sheer force of will and avoidance of the topic."

"Sure we can", he gave his shoulder a  light pat. "The boys will be here soon with food, and I heard a movie night is in order. You done with your bath? We could stay here longer if you want to, though."

Tim’s smile grew a little bit, cheeks warming, delighted despite himself at the love and care that was being bestowed upon him. Some time ago, he might have fought them over it; the progress was hard earned, but Kon wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

"Yeah, I just have to put conditioner on and comb my hair", he hesitated a bit, glancing down at his arms hugging his legs and probably weighing their strength. "Could you, uh… do it for me?"

Kon had already been reaching for the bottle even before he asked.

There was little he could do to help Tim, medical wise. But there were professionals for that, and after many late night talks and specially bad episodes, Tim had gotten better at seeking their help when needed.

What he could do was no less important, though; making sure their home was a safe, supportive, non-toxic place for him to come back to.

That’s what best friends– what family was there for.

Chapter Text

Zatara

Zachary Zatara is both a myth and their housemate.

--.--.--.--

As usual after pulling an all-week-er (he had left the ‘nighters well behind at this point), Tim was up late that saturday. The window had been left open last night, so a soft streak of sunlight wamed his bed, waking him up slowly and peacefully. Yeah, he would have liked a few more hours, but sunbathing in his sheets for a while wasn’t all that bad either. What would make this half-awake-half-dreaming experience would be some chill music.

Muddled mind made, he rolled in his bed, hand patting the mattress for his phone, squinting his eyes open when he hit something different instead.

He found himself to be almost nose to nose with a dark haired, grey eyed boy.

Tim started that fine morning screaming himself hoarse.

-.-.-.-.-

Sitting at the kitchen’s table, getting everything ready for a late sunday breakfast, Kon raised his head when he heard the strong sound of a scream, followed by… yeah, that was a body hitting the ground. It was unmistakable, in this house. 

“Oh, hey guys”, he called to the attention of the rest of his housemates, all in equals states of zombie-ness, with not as good hearing as his. “Zachary is here.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“The fuck, Zach? My bed? Did you HAVE to crash on my bed? Why are you even here?”

Tim, four coffee cups after his pseudo heart attack half an hour ago, was ready to face the day and their intruder.

“Dude I live here as well, you know. Also your bed is literally the softest thing I ever slept on, you rich bastard. Learn to share.”

“I’ll buy you your own fucking mattress if you swear to never crawl on my bed uninvited again.”

The boy’s eyebrows rose, suggestively. “What was that about an invitation?”

Distressed and not feeling awake enough (he was still two cups away from that) to deal with bi thoughts this early in the morning, he turned his most helpless look to Conner.

Because he was the best friend ever, he threw a pillow to Zachary. And because he was a suck up to anyone who brought him food, Bart intercepted the hit and gratefully accepted the candy bag he got in thanks.

“But actually, Zat, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Berlin?” interjected Cassie, her own tea (the heathen) cup warming her hands as she cuddled with Cissie and Greta on the couch, legs in each other’s laps and generally being the cutest shit ever.

Anita, not very keen on that kind of sweet love, had been wrestling with Slobo for control over the remote for the last fifteen minutes. Miguel was keeping count on their hits for them, though it was mostly assured he would rig the whole thing up to whoever had bribed him better before the fight.

Tim just wanted to go back to sleep in his sun-warmed bed.

“C’mon guys, keep up”, moaned Bart, candy bag half empty already, “he was there two weeks ago. He had an exam yesterday so he came back last monday.”

“...come again?”

“I’ve been room-hopping ever since, though none of you seemed to mind. Until I disturbed sleeping beauty over here, at least.”

Miguel’s eyes left the fight to squint suspiciously at them. “We weren’t aware you were doing that. Where did you sleep? How didn’t we notice?”

“I'ma mystery. I also move around a lot when sleeping so I probably ended up under someone’s bed after crashing from studying. Oh, Anita, if you were wondering, your purple bra is under Cissie’s bed.”

Anita slowly let go of the grip she had on Slobo’s neck. Her eyes shone something dangerous. Cissie, the one who was apparently hosting the boy all along, also stood up and frowned.

“How do you even know that bra is mine!!”

“What the fuck were you doing under my bed, you bastard!”

Tim sipped his coffee, bitterly. “At least he was under it, and not sharing it.”

Kon patted his back.

-.-.-.-.-..- 

“I swear, Jay, he thrives on making me lose my shit. He just… comes and goes whenever, leaving no proof he was ever there, or acting like he was always around. Drives me nuts. I’m not sure he even attends classes, and I only know he actually has a right to enter our house because his rent money always appears on the kitchen table a day before its due. He doesn’t even have a room, why does he even pay? To have an excuse to scare the shit out of the rest of us. Except Bart. The little shit lives for our suffering.”

Jason arches an eyebrow, sipping his beer as he carefully examines his brother. Tim looked less tired than the last time they saw each other, and the modifications done by his psychiatrist had done wonders to the shadows in his eyes. But he seemed somehow… frazzled.

“And he was just there when you woke up?”

“His nose was touching mine.”

“I bet your little bi heart couldn't take that, huh? Is he cute? Maybe you invited him to share your bed the night before and just don’t remember. You know how you get after a week of disregarding your general wellbeing.”

“Oh, shush you. I take care of myself. When was the last time you went to your check in with Patricia?”

Jason scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I missed one session, because I have exams too you know? But I’m up to date with Silvio, and we are working on slowly easing me off the medication.” He noticed the way Tim looked at his drink, expression screaming bullshit, and he scowled in response. “Fuck off, it’s alcohol-free. Kori and Artemis would have my head if they caught me mixing my dosage with anything stronger than tea, and I can’t deal with Biz and Roy’s disappointed eyes.” 

Tim thought of the last time he refused to see his therapist, and the look in everyone’s  (specially Kon’s) eyes, and had to agree. Having friends sucked when one wanted to wallow in self destructive conducts.

“Whatever, all I’m saying is, he’s not cute enough for me to forgive his weirdness. You know the people I roll with, so this is saying a lot. And I would remember inviting him to my bed, if anything for the mortification of it. I’m also…”

The ring of the doorbell distracted them both of whatever Tim was gonna say next. Waving his brother off, Jason got up to pay for their pizza.

When he returned to his living room, Tim was no longer alone.

“Who the fuck are you?” He exclaimed, eyes going back to the hallway at his back, then again at the black haired, grey eyed kid sitting next to Tim. “And how did you get in? We are on the sixth floor and I was just at the only door I have.”

Tim raised his eyes at him, and he seemed equal parts resigned and frazzled. ‘Told ya’, he seemed to say.

“Yo, the food’s finally here. I’m starving. The name’s Zachary Zatarra, by the way. Tim’s friend and housemate.”

“Allegedly” mumbled the other under his breath, earning himself a smile and pat on the back. “Don’t question it, Jay. He’ll be gone after a while when none of us are paying attention. Just let it be.”

“But while I’m here”, the other boy continued, grinning devilishly as he looked at Tim and then Jason, “instead of questioning how did I get in, what about I tell you all about your lil bro’s crush? It 's adorable.”

Tim raised an eyebrow “I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“Like I said, adorable. He’s so oblivious, it’s precious.”

Decision made, Jason left the pizzas at the coffee table and went to fetch a soda for their guest. Gossip, especially about his siblings, was the best way to gain his immediate cooperation. And he could always force the answers about Zatara out of Bart; the brat was terrified of him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey, who has to cook tonight? Because I’m craving chicken nuggets.”

Cassie raised her eyes from her magazine, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Uhm… Zach, I think?”

Miguel nodded. “Okay, thanks, where can I find him to suggest my dinner idea?”

Cissie, legs on Cassie’s lap, dropped her head over the couch’s armrest. “Ask Tim? Wasn’t he crashing with him this week?”

That same moment, said boy entered the room, shaking his head. “No, he was sharing with Anita and Cassie.”

“No, he wasn’t… Slobo?”

“Not with us either”, denied Miguel, sharing a look with his roommate to confirm just in case.

“Conner?”

“Didn’t Bart say yesterday he was driving him to the airport?”

“Wait, he left the country again ?”

“More importantly, can Bart drive ?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

When Tim came back home from class, Damian was in his living room. Using a laptop. Sitting side by side with Zatarra.

This couldn't be good.

“Hey, Timbo, welcome back.”

“Drake.”

Not uttering a single word, Tim turned around and walked out of there. Sleeping on a park bench seemed like a preferable choice, compared to finding out exactly why the two banes of his life were sitting together. It was healthier, good for his peace of mind.

Something something self care? His therapist would be so proud.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey dude.”

“Zatara. Your presence here disrupts my room’s feng shui. Please remove yourself from the premises.”

“This disaster zone is the farthest thing from armonious. If anything, I’m improving it.”

Tim raised his eyes from the computer screen. He could always kick the other man out, but that would require leaving the nest he made out of blankets and snacks on his bed. Perhaps a more civilized option would be better. Besides, as boundary-less as the dude was, he didn’t step into the room, just remaining on the doorstep, so whatever he was here for, he most likely needed Tim’s willful compliance.

“If I listen to what you have to say, will you leave?”

Zatara smiled angelically, like butter wouldn’t melt on his mouth, but the look behind his eyes was nothing short of devious. “That’s actually what I came to speak with you about. I have a show…”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“A magic show. Dude, you do know I’m a magician, right?”

Tim didn’t, in fact, know that, besides baseless suppositions about his disappearing-and-appearing abilities. But he had an all knowing facade to maintain, so he grunted in acknowledgement.

“Right, so, I have a show scheduled for tomorrow, but I took Bart out to dinner yesterday so I’m all dried up, and I need to buy a plane ticket asap.”

“Are you asking me for a loan?” he inquired, incredulous. As a general rule, all their housemates refrained from that. Something about not wanting to take advantage of their billionaire friend…

“No, no. I’m offering you a…. service.”

“Look, Zach, no offense? But you ain’t cute enough for me to stoop that low and pay for the… pleasure of your company. I can just give you the money and you pay me back whenever, dude.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that! You wish I was offering something  of the sort” he laughed, arms crossed and side leaning against the doorframe, chest and arm muscles perfectly visible. Tim kept his eyes carefully above neck-level. No need to give any weakness away.

“Then?”

“I know you love me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make you miserable, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“Are you familiar with the ‘Buy my silence, $8.000 a month’ meme? Then get ready for a ‘pay for my absence’, my good bitch. I thought maybe you’d like...”

“Sold. I buy it. Take my credit card and go, be free, roam the world. Just get out of my room and fucking text once in a while so I know you’re alive.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Quarantine

Bruce gripped the phone tighter, the screen threatening to break under the pressure.

His head felt kinda like that, too.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow. Explain to me again, as if I were dumb”, he asked, as nicely as he could.

In the background of the other end, he heard someone saying ‘ well, he is’ , but chose to ignore it. If having so many kids had taught him something, it was to pick his battles.

Cassandra Sandsmark made a shushing sound, presumptively to her housemates, before directing her attention back to him.

"As I said, Mr Wayne, we all had a vote and decided Tim would spend his quarantine with us, here, at the house. We’ve taken appropriate measures to ensure his well being, and he will be very well cared for. I assure you, everyone here gets the delicacy of his situation and we'll be sure to take every medical advice to further ensure his safety."

Bruce certainly could appreciate the girl's talent for public speaking. She was doing her best to appease the father in him by promising his son's health, even while she was clearly not asking for permission to do what basically counted as kidnapping, since Tim had been at the Manor just the night before and had gone mysteriously missing shortly after dinner, half an hour before the news channel informed the  country at large about the mandatory quarantine starting the following day.

He saw Diana's influence all over the girl, which made him almost soft enough to let go. Almost.

"I fail to see", he tried to rationalize, because both his best friend's kids lived in that house and he didn't feel like alienating them today, "why can't he stay at home, where he'll have access to a lot more resources. What can you provide that he can't find in overabundance here?"

They had Alfred's cooking going for them. He'd like to see this girl top that.

“Love, healthy family dynamics, and a tight hold on his caffeine intake. Checkmate, my good sir. Happy quarantine. Good luck with the rest of your semi psychotic, highly demented children. We’ll keep this one safe.”

She hung up. On Bruce Freaking Wayne. Richest man in this hemisphere, genius on his own right, master in varied martial art disciplines. Father of (five? six? Fuck) many smart, cunning, a little bit mean kids.

She had guts, he ought to give her that.

But this was war .