Work Text:
The digital clock blinked at 4:07 AM in obnoxious green light at the edge of the desk in a darkened room. As Tim chewed on a teabag (appearances be damned, he wanted to stay awake), he decided it was time to turn the clock away, or at least block it with his empty mug, to save his eyes from the strain. Or so he told himself. He knew the logic was flawed since he was pointedly ignoring the computer screen as the more pressing light source directly in his vision. But he had work to do, so it was fine. Just a little bit more, a little bit longer, then he’ll rest.
The purposeful creak of a door opening sounded at the other side of the room, and with a click, the area was flooded with a soft yellow light. He squinted for a moment but found that he appreciated that the new light was making the screen seem less bright. Looking away for just a moment, he spotted the guest.
Well, she wasn’t a guest really, he was. This bedroom was simply a spare he was permitted to use for the duration of his stay in Paris. But that didn’t stop the girl bundled head to toe in a thick blanket from staying in the entrance, door half open as she peeked in with her hand hovering over the light switch, and gently asking, “Tim, can I come in?”
“Yeah-” He stopped and cleared his throat, finding it dry from lack of use for hours, not to mention water, or the bitter tea leaves in his mouth (which he promptly removed from his mouth and tossed into the mug). “Yeah, come in, Marinette. What’s up? You’re not usually up this late.”
Marinette gave him a soft teasing smile as her hand retreated into her blanket and she pushed the door further open, shuffling in. “What, and you are?” He sent a sheepish smile right back and she shook her head. “Come on, it’s time to sleep now. Maman and Papa will worry if they find you still awake when they come down.”
He looks away, the sheepish smile dropping to something more somber as he focuses back on the laptop balanced on his knees. “Work never waits, Mars Bar, they know that. I’ll be okay. I’m almost done anyway.”
The edge of the bed dipped as she gently sat down at his side. Her blanket-covered back faced him, and her voice was muffled by it as it tightened around her. “Are you?”
He couldn’t put a finger on why she sounded so knowing with such a simple question. With how much he knew was on her sounders, too, maybe she did know something. But it wasn’t this , it wasn’t the same wight as his, and he hoped it never would be.
Chuckling to distract himself from those thoughts. He reached out an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her back against his side. She squeaked, and his chuckle became more genuine. “You know me so well now, do you? Well, you’re right, I’m not almost done. These things take way too much time, and every second counts. I’m done when the work is done.”
With a huff, Marinette pushed back into him, jostling his laptop. Wide-eyed, he caught it with his free hand before it could land sideways on the perfectly safe bedsheets. Pulling a face, he lifted it and set it far, far away from her clumsy movements.
“You that determined to get me to rest?” he grumbled, ruffling her hair through the blanket in retaliation. She wiggled away, sitting farther down the bed and turning to face him fully with a leg up. She still looked like she was about to fall off sitting like that, though, but that didn’t stop her from glaring at him with a pinched brow and pursed lips.
“Yes, I am! Sleep is good for you, Mr. Certified-P.I.-at-15! It’s good for your work ethics, too, and morally correct for your well-being!” She huffed again, and he could tell her arms were crossed stubbornly under her blanket. “And if I can’t convince you, maybe both our papa’s will do the trick.”
Tim gawked and immediately reached over to slam the laptop closed, work be damned. “Absolutely not!” Not only did he not want a repeat of his first day here, but adding Bruce- and then inevitably Alfred- to the mix of people willing to metaphorically or literally sit on him until he agreed to rest was not a gamble he was willing to risk. Marinette looked mighty smug as he stuffed the computer into a side table drawer and hid under his blankets. He glared out at her from over the top, but it lacked any malice. Still, he lifted his head further to stick his tongue out at her anyway, just to push his point home.
Marinette only giggled as her face softened and she slid off his bed, standing up. “Goodnight, Timothy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“...Goodnight, Marinette,” he responds in kind, watching her shuffle her way to his door, flick the switch on the light, and gently close the door without a sound.
Sighing, Tim fell back further into the bed and closed his eyes. As much as it felt like abandoning his work- and the people who needed him- he knew he needed this. He just wished that someday, he won’t need to rely on others to help him get there and realize that.
~~~
Kwami floated quietly in crevices and under objects around the brightly lit attic bedroom. Their caretaker and Guardian, Marinette, could be heard pacing manically on the balcony above. Her muttering could be heard through the closed glass trapdoor. She had quite strongly requested that they leave her be while out there no matter the time, citing their safety, but implying it was because she needed time to herself without sending them all back to their small pocket dimension inside the Miracle Box.
They dove deeper into cover as a knock echoed in the room from the wooden trapdoor or her floor. A moment later, it lifted, and a curious pair of eyes peeked in. “Marinette? You up here? I wanted to ask you something.” Tim finished pushing the door open and climbed the rest of the way into the room. He looked around but didn’t see what he wanted to. His brow furrowed and he frowned. “I know I saw you come up here earlier, where-” he stopped and looked up immediately as one of Marinette’s frustrated groans could be heard from above. His expression relaxed and he smiled, “Ah, there you are. Mari! I’m coming up!”
She only groaned again and the pacing continued. Tim climbed up to the loft and pushed the balcony door open, pulling himself up with ease. He watched as she paced among the fairy lights and continued to mutter. She barely glanced at him before talking to herself faster, making it hard to decipher her words and train of thought. With a sigh, he shut the door behind him and stands fully before walking up to her. His hands hover over her shoulders as he steps in her path, and she freezes, looking up to lock eyes with him. “Uh- hi,” she greets awkwardly.
“Hey. I haven’t seen you this worked up since I first got here. What’s wrong?” Seeing she wasn’t stepping away, he gently set his hands on her shoulders, and they visibly relaxed under the weight. Her eyes stayed anxious, though, and her hands worried at her fingers like her nerves were itching. “Mars, it’s okay, you can talk to me. Tell me what you need, I’ll listen and help.”
Marinette bit her lip and groaned, looking away. She looked guilty, but he doubted it was for something she deserved to feel bad about.
“Come on, sit down, it might help,” he adds as he guides her to the lounge chair. She plops down but barely stays there for a second before bolting back up. He watches in bewilderment as she goes to the railing instead, and hoists herself up to sit there instead. He realizes why when her legs start kicking, keeping her moving without actually going anywhere. He tried not to smile as he thought about Dick and how he preferred to stay moving when nervous, too. Tim shook his head to clear the thought and joined her. Didn’t want her potentially falling off without someone there to catch her, right? Yeah.
He gave her a moment to mutter under her breath to herself again and collect her thoughts. She took in a breath and let it out slowly. Then she looked at him again and nodded. He sat up straighter, ready to listen.
“I- You- This might not be something we- you can handle, Tim, I think it’s all going to come crashing down like the Eifel Tower on a Tuesday or something even worse! I can barely handle thinking about the danger, the tasks, the search, the observing, the planning, the waiting, the- the- the everything ! How do you even do it?! You’re so smart, and fast, and kind, and hard-working, and wonderful- I-I mean-! You’re just really good! At what you do! You finished school and studied even harder after that and became a teen investigator- a teen! So young! So accomplished! You help real people with real problems with crimes with real consequences- You get real respect and people really listen to you and- and- I don’t know! I can barely believe you’re even here , listening to me and finding my opinions on the whole situation to be actually insightful! I don’t get it! How? How do you do it all?”
Marinette’s words finally tapered off, and Tim blinked, surprised but just how much she hadn’t been breathing during that whole avalanche of words, now trying to catch up on what she missed.
Still, her words stuck in his head. They were jumbled, like a knot of her yarn that needed to be untangled before it could be used easily. Good thing he licked picking at strings, then.
“Marinette, you good?” She nodded. “Can I talk?” She nodded again. He sent her a supportive smile before continuing. “Okay, good, thank you. Listen, I get it. A lot is going through your head. And I think you’re looking at it way too closely.”
“Huh??” Her head tilted in confusion and he tried not to laugh.
“Think of it like this. That blanket you’re trying to knit? Think of that as your goal. The problem you’re seeing is your yarn, messy and unorganized. You’re trying to see all the individual knots and loose ends, and turn them into little pieces while still trying to knit. You following?”
Marinette nods slowly, then shakes her head. “You’ve lost me. I get knitting, but knitting metaphors? Really?”
Tim smiles sideways and shrugs. “It’s the best I’ve got. Just, imagine you’re cutting up your yarn, trying to unravel it.” She makes a sour face, and he knows he’s on the right track. “See? You’re making the yarn harder to work with, even useless, by cutting it, right?” She hums, lips pursed in thought as she nods along. “Yes, your yarn is long, and made of a bunch of smaller pieces of fiber holding it all together, even the knots. And yet you’re still trying to make the blanket despite the knots. You’re getting frustrated, so you get desperate. But you don’t need to tear and cut at the yarn to make it work. You don’t need to know every little speck to get to your goal. Just put down the knitting needles, take up one string at a time, and pluck it with patience. Move to the next one if it doesn't move. Keep going if it works. Repeat until you have an unbroken, unknotted, workable thread. Then you can worry about the knitting itself. See?”
Marinette looks away for a moment, then sighs and closes her eyes, falling sideways into his shoulder. Her arm not supporting her between them flails out aimlessly as she exclaims, “Why are you so good at this? You- Yeah, you’re right, I do see now. I know- I’m always making things complicated. I can’t help it, simple things never seem to go well for me. I have so much to plan for, so much to avoid, so many…”
“Contingencies,” Tim finishes, and she nods.
“Yeah. It’s hard. I’m scared. What if they don’t work? What if he- What if Paris- my family, my friends, me- There's so much danger. We- I can’t even imagine how the Heroes deal if a silly civilian like me is reacting like this. But- Thank you, Mr. Smarty-Pants, for making things so much simpler, even if it was with a dorky metaphor.” Her teasing smile was small, but it was still good.
Ignoring the nickname, Tim wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezes her tightly, supporting her the best he can. He can’t tell her the inner thoughts of a Hero- or a Vigilante, for that matter- because he couldn’t give that away, and he didn’t want that weight on her shoulders, too.
“You’re welcome, Mars. And you aren’t silly, Marinette. Your concerns aren't unfounded. They matter. They’re just crushing you too hard. We just need to lighten the load. Make it smaller. Make the pieces become less in number. That’s what I’m here for. I’m here for you- for Paris, your home. I’ll do what I can to help your Heroes, and I won’t stop until it’s over. And then I’ll keep helping you after that, however long you need.”
“Yeah..?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise?”
Tim smiled and dropped his head on top of hers. “Promise.”