Chapter Text
As a young child, Tim Drake wasn't a fan of the water. It could swallow a person whole, or pull them under. Waves would draw you in then hold you captive. Most of all it seemed like a prison waiting to trap more people at any chance it could get. A danger to stay away from.
At the young age of six, he would sneer anytime placed near the pool. It quickly became one of the most unused places in Drake Manor. Even a swim teacher hired by his parents did little to help. It got to the point he'd agreed to get in the water for shorter periods of time. But his unease never went away, that was easy to see. With how quickly the young boy would hurry away after a lesson.
This is why if his parents were living they would be shocked. That's if they had ever noticed how much their son disliked the water. And with how often they were away, it would be no surprise if they never did. More so his old swim teacher would be the one in real shock.
Tim would always say he wasn't a swimmer. He didn't like the water and had no reason to be trapped by it. But he loved to fly. Be able to twist in the air, contorting his body into graceful flips. From so far above the ground the pool below looked tiny. And this clearly did not make him a swimmer in the slightest.
He flew as most divers did. Loving the feeling of being in the air. It was like his own personal haven in a way. Getting to feel the rush of diving through the air. Sometimes he would wonder if this is how birds felt. As if all their worries went away while soaring through the
So he was far from happy with the conversation he was having. He had been recruited by a swim team. Which was beyond silly, he didn't swim! No, he soared and could best the best gymnast. The fact that he spent some time in the water, as little as in fact, did not make him a fucking swimmer
"The team is based in San Franciso year around. We were hoping to have you join before long course season starts, Mr. Drake-Wayne."
He cocked an eyebrow leaning against the back of his chair. Around him sat the rest of his family. All clearly wanting to see how this would end. The meeting had been planned for a few months. And he had made sure be not to set any sort of alarm to remind him.
It hadn't taken a very cheerful, Dick to get him to show. And that was after one of his other brothers had forced him up. And into a clean outfit, one not covered in week-old coffee stains. No, that he saw any issues with what he had been wearing. In fact, he had been wearing a very nice pair of sweatpants if you asked him.
Looking the man, John Smith in the eye, he sighed. "I don't need to point this out again, do I? I'm based in Gotham and don't plan on changing that anytime soon."
"We have a rather well-known diving team, and a world-class training center."
"I already said no."
Tim was running on very little sleep, which was immensely clear. He didn't want to put up with this. It was driving him mad to be completely truthful. It was hard to deal with his unholy amount of siblings normally. With other things being another. It was just hard for him to bear while staying completely sane at the same time. Or at least semi-close to sane.
The coach gave him a look. "We have a new diver, who needs help training. He's reckless and keeps saying you would be able to help. Our team pays its members very well. We have quite a few world champions."
Who knew doing decent in a few championships would land him here. Maybe it was the fact he was already known because of lf Bruce. Or how Dick had been the driving force that got them known as divers. It had been his tricks, which he later taught to his siblings, that took the diving world by storm. Since then everyone wanted a Wayne on their team. Wheater it was Cass who had a graceful freestyle, or Duke whose flips were very showy. Or even how Jason had once gotten arrested for there being a gun in his gear bag. Having a Wayne meant your team was tough. The one that other's wanted to beat
It got annoying pretty fast. It was bad enough to get fooled around just in Gotham, but the fact that it was now happening everywhere. That was far from something he enjoyed even a tad. Hell, Jason made a game of flipping off as many reporters as he could.
"I swim for the Gotham Robins and that's not changing."
From beside him, Jason smirked. "Plus we're fucking rich. He won't take the money so that bullshit is not gonna work."
A business card was slipped across the table. As the coach stood to leave, sending a look as he left the room. As if he was still expecting a call. Which was not fucking happening. Gotham was shitty, but he didn't mind it at all. It was nicer than those high-class cities. Easier to feel at home even with all the crime.
Around the time his father passed, that man had planned to move them away. They'd been a few days off from leaving when everything when bad. That made him realize that leaving the city could easily be considered bad luck for him.
From where she was sitting beside him, Cass gave her brother a light tap on the back. Before pointing towards the now closed door. Her long fingers starting to move with grace as she signed. Her fingers forming words, her mouth pulled into a small grin.
'Go, little brother.'
It would be easy to tell her she was being silly. Tim didn't get why she would want him to join. It just, meant he would get fed up with people. And probably do everything he would to avoid any and all forms of human interaction. Hell, that's why he barely left his room. Or the comforts of his home office.
'It would be good for you.'
A dark brown eyebrow shot up, as he narrowed his eyes. It would not be good, that was far from correct. It would be like hell to join that team. He was needed here. On the Robin's, at Wayne Enterprises.
Avery's loud chortle was heard as a blonde entered the room. Dropping herself over the couch beside him, Steph rested her head playfully on his shoulder. Curls bounced as she pulled a purple blanket onto her lap. Blue eyes looking him straight in the eyes.
"Timmy, I'm not letting you stay here. Hell, I walked into the manor last week and found you passed out on the middle of the stairs." She smirked for a second. "I'd be a shitty ex-girlfriend if I didn't force you to go."
A rather loud scoff was let out. And it took him a moment to realize he had been the one to make it. This was not happening. He had to of been hit with fear gas or something. That had to be what this was. It felt like hell.
The door was pushed open and Alfred walked in shaking his head. A plate of scones was placed down on the coffee table. Before the older man turned towards him. Face stony as he began to speak
"Master Tim, I've packed your bags. You will be joining the team. The coach had already been informed and the jet prepared. It would be very good for you to spend some time away from Gotham."
A few feet away Damian added on. “Drake the peasants are correct. It would be best if you leave. Without you, we shall finally get coffee in the morning.”
He sat up reaching for the nearest cup of coffee. Which quickly got grabbed by Jason, and dumped into a nearby plant pot. The dark liquid soaks into green moss within seconds. The plant would probably be dead by nightfall due to his brother’s lack of common sense.
A pile of suitcases now sat at his feet. Neatly stacked in a pile, all in the same shade of dark red. The Gotham Robin’s logo is clearly on display in the center of each. There was even a small backpack with what looked to be his laptop.
They really weren’t going to give him a choice. Not that it was easy to force Time to do anything. He would dig his heels into the ground. Or in some cases would literally hide in the ceiling beams. Carefully perched above everyone drinking coffee, and going through Tumblr. A habit he had picked up from Dick when they were younger. Anything that would keep his free will safe.
“No. I already said I’m not doing this.”
________________
Not even twenty-four hours later he was standing in a lobby. It turned out he was going to do this. Even if it was solely because he had been dragged to the car. Kicking and screaming while his siblings calmly sat listening to music and not giving a fuck.
His ears still haven't popped from the long plane ride. And there was a coffee stain on the sleeve of his jacket. Yet here he was watching the couch talking to a receptionist. The team, known as Young justice, a stupid name he’d say, had an entire building. On that crawled up into the clouds of San Francisco.
John held out a stack of paper towards him and started guiding the teen down the hall. Not even giving him time to follow. Leaving the boy to dart after him dragging an obscure amount of suitcases. Which bumped against the smooth wooden ground, leaving harsh dents and skids marks.
“So you'll be living with the rest of our team on the top floor. You’ll all hit it off right away, I can already tell. I’ll have one of them show you around. I would but I’m currently drowning in paperwork.” He stopped and pushed the button for an elevator. “The middle floors are where you find the pools and gyms. Though we don’t expect to see you there for a few days.”
That caught him off guard, and he was almost too slow. Barely getting in the elevator before the door’s closed in his face. Narrowly missing them he leaned against the back wall.
It had been a long day, a week really. Tim had refused to sleep on the plane from new jersey. Instead of going over paperwork for a WE program. One that would help disadvantaged youth in Gotham. He’s been putting it together for weeks. And had finally been able to secure a building, one that could act as a shelter. Hopefully the first of many.
That had stolen his attention. Along with running background checks on each of his future teammates. On that had popped up a colorful array of info. Some of each were very much fabricated, in a way that had been poorly hidden.
Like in Barthelow Allen's paperwork there was no clear line on his family. Instead a mixed bag of results. Different document’s sporting a varying array of results on his parent’s name. It was odd, to say the least. Proceeding to get more confusing the longer he looked. It turned out he had a twin brother, Thad. Yet neither boy’s file’s made any sense. He had resigned to make a note of it to go back later.
Then there was Conner Kent. Who seemed to only have a single biological parent. Almost as if something was blocking all the info on the other. Because it didn’t matter what he tried, nothing was to be found no matter how hard he looked. Though he had noted who his sole parent seemed to be. Clark Kent, a reporter who had over the years became close with Bruce. Yet he’d never heard of him having an older son.
After that, he shut his laptop. What he had found just on those two had induced a headache. More so that was due to the insane lack of anything slightly coherent. It had felt like a very poorly created riddle.
The elevator jolted to a stop, the door flying open. Brought out his thought’s in a swift moment Tim stumbled out. Dragging his bags along with him. Normally he moved gracefully, used to hiding in the shadows. Though instead, the teen fell onto the ground. Face first.
Growing up in the spotlight all his embarrassing moments had been broadcasted to the world. It was easy to google his name, and find all sorts of things. Photos of him fast asleep at gala’s, or on the pool deck. Even one of him trying to fight Damian outside of a bat burger. That had ended up on the news.
With a thud he landed, bags tipping onto the floor behind him. The sound of footsteps quickly caught his ears. As what seemed to be a hoard of people stormed into the room. A pair of bright orange fluffy slippers slapped the ground. Before halting right in front of his face.
“Oh my god! Is this the new guy? Does he look rich? Cassie, do you think he’s rich? Can I bunk with him! It would be so cool, like a forever sleepover! I’ve never had one before! Unless you count Thad, but he’s mean. This guy look’ nicer than Thad-”
The babbling came out fast and ended just as quickly. When he was yanked from the ground by a wall of muscle. Unsteady the teen stumped away. That’s when he was able to take note of where he was. A penthouse, though not as nice as what he was used to. Instead of a clean white the whole place was full of color.
From the way that blankets and swim caps were thrown everywhere. Or how a couch pushed against a wall was the ugliest orange he had ever seen. And looked as if it was some horrid type of denim. Even the flooring was odd. It was some sort of faux wood in the most bizarre shade of yellow.
Was this really where he was expected to live? Tim didn’t have a problem with his own mess. Hell, his floor was impossible to find in his room. Alfred would sometimes refuse to go in out of sheer fear. More than once Dick had attempted to clean it and then fallen ill.
But other people’s mess. He did not do that, never in a million years. That was a big nope and would drive him mad. In fact, that was the easiest way to make him lose his mind. And probably something that all the people kidnapping him for ransom could use to drive him mad.
In front of him was a boy, the one the slipper’s clearly belonged to. He had most certainly not shut up on purpose. As a girl had her hand clamped over his mouth. While giving him a sheepish grin. Likely feeling bad that this was how they meet.
“Welcome to Young Justice.”
Conner Kent. The boy who had stumped him was standing there. Looking so smug he almost was stumped again. It was easy to say he took after Clark. They looked almost like twins, except this boy, looked like he should be in a bad Hallmark movie. One of those was set in a small southern town.
Tim stopped himself and tore his eyes away. Grabbing his bag’s he pushed himself past the group. Not even caring that he could feel the glares that were being shot at him. Almost like lasers that could melt him straight through the ground. If this was a comic book he’d be long gone by now.
He couldn't do this not tonight. The lack of caffeine in his system was starting to make itself much more clear. Which was in no way a good thing if you asked him. Soon Tim would be lost in a wave of incredibly unnecessary exhaustion.
The world was already seeming to fall away. So he didn’t complain as Conner, that’s who he thought it was at least, guided him down a hallway. His feet almost refused to move. Having decided they were going to protest any movement he wanted to make.
If Tim was more awake he’d say it was beyond ridiculous. And that he could find the room on his own. Or even more likely push past the other boy and find his own way. But he was not able to do that. Because his eye’s fluttered closed before they were even halfway down the hall.
That night his dreams were full of flying. A world where he leaped between rooftops. His crystal blue eyes hidden behind a green mask. This was a dream that had been plaguing him for years. Though now it was joined by soaring through the air held by a boy. One with a s on his chest, and a mischievous smirk.
_______________________
“Why is he here- I don’t understand why they’d want such a rich brat on the team.”
Cassie bit her lip to keep from laughing. Across from her sat a seething Kon, his hands clenched into tight fists. A single curl falling between his eyes. She was tempted to reach out and push it out of the way.
“And he was clearly out of it! We worked so hard for this, and they dumped us with that!”
She raised an eyebrow leaning back against the wall. “You know what they say about the Robins-”
He shook his head, not listening to a word she said. Having decided it didn't matter. It couldn’t mean less at the moment. He was pissed, maybe even beyond that point.
“Kon, you can have your little pity party in your room. Because I can't hear the movie over all your whining.”
That seemed to pull him out of his rage for a second. “Oh.”
The girl rolled her eyes, running a hand through short blond hair. “Even with all the moping, your still my favorite dumbass ex-boyfriend.”
“I’m your only ex-boyfriend-”
instead of getting a reply, he was playfully shoved over. The movie played on as the two best friends bickered. The sound of Bart dancing loudly to kpop in the background was easy to hear. Eventually lulling them fast to sleep.