Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It smelled like snow. The first snow of the year. Tim predicted a couple hours before thick, wet flakes started falling and coated Gotham in a cold white sheet. He wrinkled his nose at the thought, lifting his camera to his face. Snow was pretty and all, but working on snowy nights was never much fun. 

He leaned forward on the railing of the fire escape he was perched on, adjusting the zoom. Smirking, he snapped a series of shots. Goons in Gotham could be such dumbasses on good days. 

You think they’d learn by now: you shouldn’t leave your curtains open where I can see you .

Tucking his camera away, Tim climbed to the top of the roof. Leaning his elbows on the ledge, he breathed in deep. He wasn’t the biggest fan of snow, sure, but the smell of something coming never failed to excite him. The thrill didn’t even seem to lessen over the years, if anything, his hunger for solving mysteries only grew.

The GCPD knew him as Alvin Draper, ‘anonymous’ informant, even though Tim really considered himself more of an under-age PI. The people of the city called him by many names, from normal things like Shadow and Don’t Worry, Not The Bat; to bizarre nicknames like Gothic Tails and Batman and Catwoman’s Secret Love Child (courtesy of Vicky Vale). 

Needless to say, Tim wasn’t the biggest fan of that last one. Don’t get him wrong, he blushed like a fanboy at being compared to the Catwoman, full face, cherry red. But Batman? Puh-lease . The only reason that loser had more trust from the police, attention from the media and admiration of the citizens, was because he walked around in pointy ears and a million dollar suit. 

And sure, there was the fact that he packed a punch, but still. It was totally the suit. Not that Tim minded being mostly ignored, it was better for his business after all, to stick to the shadows. However, people rarely talked about Alvin Draper, who figured out who murdered Mrs. Arujo, when Batman was in a heated battle with Bane. (We don’t talk about the time when he was still 8, and someone caught a blurry video of him. Vale had enough of a field day with that.)

Standing up on his rooftop, grumpily thinking about Batman, Tim almost missed the sound of someone landing behind him.

“Hey, kid, whaddaya think yer doin’ up here?” 

Ah, can’t forget about Robin, can we?

Tim smirked at Jason Todd, who smiled back at him. He could admit he liked Jason a little more than he liked Dick Grayson, the original Robin. That was something he was capable of giving the Bat, he knew how to pick his sidekicks. Well, in his personal opinion, Batgirl was the best since she was a competent detective, resourceful and skillful, and didn’t speak in incoherent growls. But Jason was okay.

“Oh gosh!” Tim gasped sarcastically. “Aren’t you that guy from TV, the one that follows Batman around?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Jason assured him, smile growing with fake pride, a cracked mask.

“What’s your name again?” Tim wondered aloud, tilting his head. “Boy Traffic-Light? Neon Bat 2.0? No wait, I’ve got it!” He snapped, making finger guns. “Bluejay, am I right?”

…Okay to mess with, that is.

Jason’s smile faltered a bit, but he laughed it off, coming closer.

“Yer a funny one, kid. Ya gotta name on ya?” He settled beside Tim, looking down at the city.

“Alvin,” Tim answered easily.

“Holy shit!” Jason’s head shot up, his jaw falling wide open as he gaped at Tim. “Wait, yer-!”

“ Catwoman’s Secret Love Child, totally,” he said with a shrug.

“Fuck, yer younger than I thought ya’d be,” Jason groaned. “I bet 20 bucks ya’d be ‘round Nightwing’s age, or somethin’.” He paused, giving Tim a long look. “Not that I’ll tell, if ya don’t either. ‘m not suppostta be out tonight,” he whispered.

Tim hummed, leaning back, eyeing him carefully. “Any special reason you’re on my roof, then?”

“Yer roof?” Jason snorted, reaching over the edge of the ledge, grabbing at something. He booped Tim on the nose with a packet of cigarettes. “This’s my roof, Gremlin. My smokin’ roof the Bat doesn’t know ‘bout.”

“Huh. Gotham’s sweetheart has a disgusting habit that's bad for his health, I can see the headlines now,” Tim assured him, leaning away as he lit one.

“Shuddup man,” Jason muttered, taking a deep inhale. With a long exhale, he let out a puff of smoke. They watched it fade into the night. “Fuck Batman and Robin though, yer doin’ pretty good fer yerself over there, kid.”

“Thanks.”

“How ya get started in the business anyways, huh?”

Jason watched him thoughtfully, and Tim stared back at him from under the edge of his hood and messy bangs.

To tell or not to tell, that is the question. Well, why not throw him a bone?

“I like Agatha Christie and detective movies or whatever. Plus, Sherlock Homes is like my idol.”

Jason grinned, chuckling slightly. “Okay, but that’s like sayin’ Batman’s favorite things are bats, the dark and bein’ broody. What makes a lil’ baby decide ta creep around the most dangerous city at night?”

“Not a baby or little,” Tim grumbled, crossing his arms. He took a deep breath. “Batman kicks super villains butts into Arkham. The GCPD has a corruption problem that most people ignore because they’re so thinly spread as it is. I’m just an average joe, helping the average people. I gather the evidence the police can’t get, or doesn’t care to look for. I help people feel safe in ways Batman never could.”

“Damn.” Jason nodded slowly. “That’s really somethin’ kid. Ya’ve got a real honorable crusade goin' there. An’ ya know what? For what it’s worth, I think ya do good work.”

“I am the World’s Greatest Detective.”

Jason almost choked on his cigarette, laughing  so hard he made Tim smile genuinely.

“Yer really somethin’, Alvin. I think I’m startin’ ta like yer company.”

“Only just now?”

They stood there together for a while, chatting about everything and nothing. Tim was actually so comfortable talking with Jason, he didn’t even realize how long they'd been there, until the first drops of snow started falling.

“Shit. I better be gettin’ home,” Jason sighed, putting out his cigarette. He patted Tim’s head as he stepped away, pulling out a grappling hook. “See ya ‘round, kiddo!”

Waving goodbye, Tim stretched, shivering at the cold. He supposed it was about time he made his way home too. For one last moment, he started at the spot where Jason had been.

You’re not so bad yourself, Boy Wonder. Maybe I can start to tolerate Robin too... Maybe.

-

Jason Todd. Rest In Peace.

-

Six months since their rooftop encounter, Tim stood in front of Jason’s grave. It was dawn, and he had a white rose clutched to his chest. Bitterly, he let it drop.

I’m about to do something stupid, aren’t I?

He stared at Jason’s headstone and snorted, breathing shakily to hold back the tears that definitely weren’t threatening to drop.

You might be dead, Jason, but I’m still counting this as you owning me one, got it?

As the sun rose sluggishly up the sky, Tim walked back to Drake Manor, remembering to put the Bat’s security system right back as he found it. Totally didn’t tamper with the camera feed. Or the heat sensors. Or any other kind of sensor.

“I’m home!” he called out into his empty house, his voice echoing.

“Hey, champ, What were you doing out so early in the morning?” He imitated his dad, taking off his dirty shoes before they could touch his parent's shiny floors. 

“Oh you know, just out for a healthy morning stroll.”

Stopping for a second in the kitchen for a cup of coffee, he made his way up to his room, where he started peeling off his clothes. The imaginary conversation with his parents continued.

“Hey, mom, I’m going to go out again to meet a potential new business partner, is that okay?”

“Of course, honey! I’m so glad you’re getting out there. Just be sure to be home in time for dinner. Don't forget, you promised you’d make us your zucchini lasagna roll-ups.”

“I’d never forget, mom, don’t worry.”

His closet door swung open. He settled for a simple pair of gray sweatpants and a bright pink hoodie, which worked to divert attention from other things (he did learn something from Batman and Robin). He stepped into his bathroom to finish his look. Putting on his color contact lenses was never fun, but then again, neither was having his identity revealed. So he just had to deal. He ruffled his hair in the way his mother detested.

Perfect heir to Drake Industries who?

Laughing at his own joke, he went back into his room to search for his wire-frame glasses. One could never be too careful. Finally, when he was ready, a manila folder in hand, Tim stood at his front door and looked over his shoulder.

“Bye, mom. Bye, dad. Be back soon.”

“Bye son, we love you.”

There was somebody ringing the bell at the gate of Wayne Manor. Prying himself away from his cleaning spree in the den, Alfred went to see who it was on the buzzer. 

To his surprise he saw a boy, with glasses and a horrendous pink sweatshirt, staring at him through the camera.

“Hello? How may I help you, young man?” he asked, pressing the button to speak.

“Hi, Mr. Pennyworth,” the boy said, leaning away from the camera a little bit, his voice so small, Alfred almost missed it. “I would like to speak with Mr. Wayne, if that’s alright?”

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit?” Alfred squinted, trying to get a better look at him through the screen. That sweatshirt was just so attention grabbing, it was hard to pay attention to detail.

“Oh, right, duh. I’m Alvin Draper and I have a PowerPoint and a folder- No wait! I mean,” he hid his face in his hands for a second, flustered. “I mean I have a proposal for Mr. Wayne. And- And, I know who he is. And I’m already guessing you know who I am. So. Uh. Yeah. I’m Alvin. That’s me,” he stated, voice cracking.

The boy’s shy demeanor almost convinced Alfred this was some kind of joke. He sighed.

“Very well, you may come in. I will meet you at the door in a moment.”

Buzzing the gate open, he sighed a second time. 

Master Bruce will not be pleased about this.

He was right, naturally. Bruce Wayne was NOT happy to have a 13-year-old give him a presentation on how, statistically, Batman functioned better with a partner by his side. Or when Alvin insisted that he was very willing to lend his services, to do everything he could, for the good of Gotham City. His face even turned especially bitter, every time the literal child referred to himself as ‘the obviously more competent detective.’

Alfred, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more pleased. Alvin Draper was the best thing that could’ve ever stepped into Wayne Manor during these trying times, he was sure of it. And perhaps, one day, Bruce would come to realize this too.

-

Three months in, Alfred decided to call in the big guns. Because it turned out, Bruce wasn’t the only one who needed a push in the right direction.

‘Master Alvin,’ as he grew to call him, was just as bad as his mentor rival, and insisted on keeping a strictly professional relationship. Honestly, Alfred was really starting to feel exasperated that he was the only one who worried about the boy. He’d done his best to try to help the situation, but Alvin never came over for anything besides business.

Just the mention of dinner had him making a bee-line for the exit, never mind lunch, and God forbid breakfast. If only they knew who he really was, maybe that would’ve helped, but ‘arm’s length’ was as far as Alvin liked to keep them. No questions asked.

The sound of an engine announced Dick’s arrival to the cave, and he paused his dusting. Alfred raised an eyebrow, when his oldest grandson discarded his helmet on the Cave floor.

Oh dear.

“Bruce!” he snarled, storming straight for the chair at the Bat-Computer. “What the hell-”

“Language,” Alfred commented, going unheard.

“-were you thinking, making another kid Robin?” 

He swung the chair around, expecting to face his father. Only to freeze at the sight of Alvin Draper, a granola bar hanging out of his mouth, and a judgmental look in his brown eyes. Alvin pushed up his glasses.

“Hi, son,” he said in a deep, dramatic growl, “good to see you too.”

From across the Cave, Alfred swore he saw the corner of Bruce’s mouth twitch for a split second. Dick wasn’t so easily amused, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring.

“So what, you’re the new Robin now?” 

Alvin smirked, leaning back in the Bat’s chair, practically claiming it as his own by now. 

Glancing between them, Alfred suppressed a sigh.

Perhaps it was too soon to introduce them.

“I’m Alvin, Alvin Draper. Like all the best detectives, I go by my own name. However, since Mr. Wayne is so insistent on having code name in the field, you can call me一”

Chapter Text

“一 Cat Woman's Secret Love Child… Which is what I have been trying to advocate for, but he kept on calling me Catboy, which sounds ridiculous. But it stuck.”

A few weeks later, the kid’s serious face as he said those words still had Dick cracking up. Even as he stared into his champagne flute, trying to block out the fake laughs around him. At least the thought kept Dick distracted from the boring Wayne Foundation gala Bruce dragged him into staying for.

“He asked for a codename, and I gave him one. Everyone would remember the name,” Alvin assured them. “Vale already called me-”

“What he really wants is to not have a codename at all,” Bruce interrupted, rolling his eyes at what obviously was a speech he’d heard enough times.

“Codename, insurance claim, it’s all the same,” Alvin dismissed him nonsensically, crossing his arms. “As a detective it would make more sense to call me by my name.”

“Codenames are important, and I'd rather call you Catboy than… that,” Dick snorted, managing to put a loose lid on his temper.  “But, if all the best detectives go by their names, isn’t it counterintuitive to go by Alvin Draper? I mean, there’s no way in hell that’s your real name.”

Alvin frowned at him. “I hate you.”

For the past week, Dick tried, really very hard, to convince himself he didn’t share the sentiment. He’d temporarily come back to Gotham, only there for a little while. He didn’t want to commit the same mistake he made with Jason. After hearing Alfred’s story about him and realizing who he was (that  Alvin Draper ), Dick wanted to make an effort. But he’d lost all hope. 

Alvin Draper, code name Catboy, was…

Another replacement Robin . 

Alvin Draper was, alas, impossible to feel any brotherly instincts towards. 

Always has to be right. Always need to make a point. Always needs to be the first to figure it out. Always has to rub it in your face-

“Hi, Dick, how have you been?”

Dick looked up from his glass and smiled. Timmy Drake smiled back shyly, appearing just as adorable as Dick remembered. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the off chance of running into Tim, he wasn’t sure he ever would have kept going to galas after his first time.

“Hey, Tim,” he greeted him, “you’re hitting up the food bar, huh?”

“I’m really hungry,” Tim admitted to him in a low whisper. “I forgot to eat lunch, and I had to skip breakfast because I woke up late for school.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Dick reached behind him, handing Tim a plate. “You need to eat more, it’s good for you… Late night?”

“Sorry?” Tim asked, glancing at him as he filled his plate with cornichons and gruyere palmiers that he was dumping fig jam on.

Dick laughed a little at his confused face. “I asked if you had a late night.”

“Oh. Yeah, I was up pretty late,” Tim told him, going back to his hors d'oeuvres. “How about you? I mean, how are you doing lately? Are you okay staying here with Mr. Wayne after-? No- Sorry, is that too personal?” 

He almost dropped his plate in his fluster, blushing and lowering his gaze. Dick sighed, smiling at him sadly. 

“I’m doing better, thanks for asking…” He paused. “I missed you though. It’s good to see you.”

It’s good to see one of my littler brothers , he didn’t say. Because he was too scared to call Tim that, even though he’d considered him a baby brother long before meeting Jason. 

Calling Tim a word like 'family', it was dragging him into their whole mess. Family was nothing more than a cursed word. 

And Dick just wanted the kid to stay safe and happy, as much as anyone could be in Gotham. Logically, he knew Tim was growing up, but he still remembered the little 5-year-old with big blue eyes. Stumbling over his own name, and proudly showing him all the ropes of surviving galas and other events. He’d helped Dick feel better when he got overwhelmed with all the people cooing and sneering at him, and the snack bar quickly became their hangout spot ever since.

He was the damn bar I kept holding Jason up to.

Taking a sip of champagne, he tried messing up Tim’s perfectly gelled hair. Tim gasped, swatting him away with a feigned hurt expression. 

“I spent hours on that, don’t you dare, Richard . You do not want to cross Mother if she finds a hair out of place.”

“Well, then I’d hate to be you when she sees that pickle brine stain,” Dick told him,  biting his lip to hold back a fit of giggles.

“No! Where!” Tim searched his whole front desperately.

“Here.” 

Dick placed his finger on a random spot of his clean, white shirt. Tim looked down, and promptly got his nose flicked. He glared venomously at Dick.

“I hate you so much right now,” he proclaimed, but Dick could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Love you too, Tim.”

I’ll only be five minutes, tops.

Tim had promised that, but he should’ve known he’d get too absorbed in the case. 

Harley and Ivy had escaped Arkham the night before, and he knew they were cooking up some kind of chaos. Naturally, it just had to happen when his parents were in town, which meant he’d had to cut his time in the Cave short. Tim ran what he knew in his head the whole night during dinner, and instead of sleeping. 

Something was missing.

So, of course, he did the only logical thing. Tim excused himself from his conversation with Dick, under the guise of needing a bathroom break. It was just comparing notes with Batman after all, there was no harm in sneaking into the Cave for a moment… Or so he’d convinced himself.

Fuck.

“Mister Drake, what a surprise it is to find you here.”

“Oh. Uh. Um. Mr. Alworth- I mean, Mr. Pennyfred- No! Mr. Pennyworth ! I- this- this isn’t what it likes look- I mean looks like . This isn’t what it seems. Actually, is anything ever what it seems?”

Damn it Tim, stop talking!

Alfred raised an eyebrow and inspected him carefully. Tim adjusted his tie, feeling his neck heating up with embarrassment. The butler took a step towards him, his previously rigid posture relaxing.

“Ah, Master Alvin .” 

Was all he said, but it was enough to make Tim feel like he’d been sucker punched.

“No, no, no…” He raked his brain on how to get out of this one. “I’m- I am… I- I... I’m am a Tim,” he assured with complete certainty. 

As soon as the words came out of his mouth he knew he’d messed up. He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh my God, Alfred, you can’t tell Mr. Wayne!” he begged.

Alfred’s mustache twitched. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Drake . I can only assume the Cave’s camera feed lacks any evidence of you being here, so really, there is no real proof you were ever even here.”

“You’re- You’re not gonna tell?” Tim asked, just to be sure.

“No, I will not inform Master Bruce of this… breakthrough in his investigation.” Alfred smiled at him kindly, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “It will do good to his ego, knowing he was fooled by a pair of glasses and contact lenses.”

“And a pink sweatshirt,” Tim added, returning his smile hesitantly.

“Of course, and that god awful sweatshirt. Now,” Alfred looked at him more sternly. “You better return to the party, before your parents and Master Dick start to question where you’ve been.”

Tim cleared his throat. “Right.” He paused at the stairs to look back at the butler. “Thank you, Alfred, see you tomorrow.”

It was late, way past 1 a.m., and the Gotham air was warm. 

Catboy let the breeze ruffle his hair freely, as he glanced at Nightwing with a smug smirk on his face. 

“Greatest Detective strikes again, huh?”

Nightwing snorted at him, turning away as he pulled out his rebreather, gesturing for his partner to do the same. 

“Okay, so you were right. Get over it,” he grunted. “Let’s get down there before she gets away.”

They swung down to the ground, narrowly avoiding landing on some vines. Ivy turned around to face them, smiling, right before she launched a broken car over their heads. Nightwing grabbed Catboy and shoved him to the ground as glass rained over them.

“I know how to duck, thanks ,” Catboy snapped at him, rolling his eyes under the mask.

Nightwing shot him a glare before getting to his feet, pulling out his escrima sticks. 

“Hostages first. Poison Ivy’s mine, do not engage.”

They split ways, as Nightwing leaped towards Ivy, and Catboy headed towards the vines blocking traffic, jumping from car to car. He pulled out an explosive Birdarang, throwing it towards the thick vines. Once they were broken, he moved back, signaling to the cops on the other side of the barricade. Grabbing one end of the vines, he worked to drag it off of the road.

As the cars started flooding out, Catboy turned back to see the fight between Ivy and Nightwing. Just as he looked up, Nightwing came crashing down to the ground, his rebreather getting smacked off his face.

And Tim froze.

Shit. shit. Shit. sHiT. Move!

He pushed himself forward. Ivy was getting away. Dick was probably hurt. And Ivy was getting away. But Dick wasn’t okay. He put his fingers to his com line as he ran.

“Catboy to Batman, Nightwing’s been hit, we need the Batmobile our way asap. ”

The ‘hn’ on the other end of the line was all he needed. 

Moving as quickly and efficiently as he could, with a much bigger and heavier Nightwing, Tim evacuated them from the street to an alley, setting Dick down so he could inspect him. There was a streak of glittery pollen on his cheek. And down the side of his neck. And covering the exposed skin of his arm, where his suit had been ripped. Conclusion: the situation was bad. Plus, he was breathing unevenly, and not to mention the cut on the side of his head, matting his hair with blood.

Tim reached out to inspect the wound, gasping when a hand grabbed his wrist. He and Nightwing stared at each other for a second, frozen in the moment. 

“Batmobile coming our way,” he whispered.

“Ivy?” Nightwing asked, voice hoarse. 

“Got away,” Catboy reported. The grip on his wrist tightened.

“You let her?”

Tim flinched at the snarl. “You- You told m-me…”

“No. S-Sorry. You’re right. You did good. That wus on meee.” Dick slumping back against the wall with a shiver.

Biting his lip, Tim struggled to find something to say to that, lost in what to do next. Fortunately, the roaring of the Batmobile saved him, right before he really started spluttering. Carefully, he helped Dick back to his feet and opened the back door of the car.

“You’ll be ok,” he reassured him, more for himself than for Dick.

Batman glanced over his shoulder from the driver’s seat, nailing Catboy with a glare.

“Report.”

“Poison Ivy escaped, Nightwing’s hurt. What else is there to say?” Tim relaxed his shoulders, lifting his chin, falling back to Alvin’s cocky persona easily.

“Where were you?” Batman growled.

“Moving traffic. You caught Harley Quinn, didn’t you? Ivy was just the distraction. You’re the one who's always telling me to ‘hang back’,” he said with a mock Bat-grunt and finger quotes. “And ‘don’t enga— What are you doing? ”

His breath caught in his throat as he squeaked in surprise. Dick Nightwing had tried to pull him towards his chest, but stopped, tilting his head.

"'m cold," he stated. 

Batman cleared his throat. “Cuddle pollen.”

“Oh, right, duh ,” Tim sighed, mentally facepalming.

Reaching out, he allowed Nightwing to snuggle into his chest, wrapping his arms gently around his injured back.

Tim had hugged Dick before, but never Nightwing. He never expected to find himself in that position, it felt very unprofessional. This was a business relationship after all. He hadn’t become Catboy for hugs… or praise.

Get it together, Timothy.

The silence grew heavier and awkward the closer they got to the Cave, interrupted occasionally by Dicks murmuring. Until finally, the Batmobile rolled to a stop and Batman stepped out to help him get Nightwing to the med bay.

“Monday.” Bruce spoke stiffly as they deposited Dick onto a cot.

“Monday?” Tim echoed.

“Be ready. I’m going to take your training to the next level.” He pulled down the cowl as Alfred made his way over to them with the medical supplies. “You have until then to decide if you want to quit or not.”

“I won’t.” Alvin Draper, Catboy, pinned the Bat with a glare of his own. 

He’d started this whole charade with Batman because of Jason, because of his sense of duty. Now? Now he was doing it for himself.

“I won’t quit.”

Unlocking the front door of his house, Tim allowed himself to shudder. 

He knew a bit of pollen had gotten in on him, but honestly? It wasn’t the worst he’d had. Tim had a teachable moment or two when he was first starting, and knew what happened  to him when he got doused in cuddle pollen. Cold. Nothing but cold.

Still, the tiny bit that was passed to him from Dick wasn’t the same thing. He was chilled to the bones, but otherwise fine.

There was enough energy left in him to drag himself to bed, and wrap himself tightly in blankets. The effects weren’t so bad that he couldn’t pretend his parents hadn’t left for Italy that morning. He could still pretend they hadn’t forgotten to tell him. That they were with him right now, hugging him in place of the blankets.

In fact, he had enough brain power to stay awake a little longer. Staring aimlessly at the ceiling, his recent memories playing like a tape recorder in his ears.

“Okay?” Dick slurred sleepily as Tim made to leave, his hand closing in on his wrist against. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tim repeated to the darkness as he rolled over.

He couldn’t quite feel his parents anymore. 

But he was fine. Just fine.

Chapter Text

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t one of the little Replacements .”

Thunder rumbled and lightning struck outside Drake Manor, but Tim was unfazed as he drummed his fingers on the kitchen table. He stared at the conspiracy bord he’d set up on his fridge. No matter how much he studied the evidence, or rearranged the magnets and red strings; there was only one conclusion.

Slowly, he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“If it flies like a bird and it sings like a bird; it’s a Robin .”

He pulled out his phone, debating warning Steph to actually stay in for the night. But Robin was technically benched, and she’d been fighting with Bruce about it, so he didn’t really want to add to that fire. On the other hand, he wouldn’t mind having a little back up. But.

Biting the pad of his thumb, he made up his mind on an excuse and started texting.

ALVIN - Tell Bats I’m out for the night.  

STEPH - Ur ditching me???? :(

ALVIN - Family thing.

STEPH - Kay. Have fun!

ALVIN - Thanks.

He powered his phone down and sighed. Lying to Steph, who, after all this time, was basically the closest thing he had to a best friend, was hard . But. But if he took her with him, and even one thing went wrong, he didn’t want to think about what could happen to her.

Tonight. Or even tomorrow. His greatest secret was about to be ripped away, leaving him exposed for the bats to see him for who he really was. Yet… Sacrificing ‘Alvin Draper’ was worth it, if he was right.

Two people felt like more than enough, he didn’t want more seeing the real ‘Timothy Drake’. Tim loved respected Alfred and Cass, nonetheless, he couldn’t escape the choking feeling that his secret identity was painfully being chipped away. That they were staring at him through the cracks.  

Ok, so the new Batgirl was great. She was the best bat of them all — but he still hadn’t gotten over the embarrassment of her knowing .

In hindsight, Tim really should have known she would know, even before that first gala they met. When Dick introduced his new sister to Tim, he’d felt himself flush at her snort of laughter. Even though her sympathetic smile told him she wouldn’t tell, that didn’t stop his brain from whispering a bunch of ‘ what ifs’.

No. He couldn’t tell Stephanie. He couldn’t have her seeing him anything other than ‘annoying little shrimp.’ He was Draper, Alvin Draper, as far as she was concerned, and he just wanted to hold on to that for just a little longer.

The rain persisted outside, and he searched the closet for a waterproof jacket. 

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad. I’ll be back soon, promise.” 

The house stayed silent, his call echoing on the walls.

Just as he reached to open the front door, Tim paused.

Shit. I’m gonna need a shovel.

--

Jason Todd. Rest In Peace

--

Covered from head to toe in mud and grit, he wiped his sweaty bangs out of his face. All he could really do now was hope nobody caught him, that he could finish what he came here to do without getting arrested for grave robbing or something. This was why Tim preferred visiting the memorial on the Wayne grounds. Normal Gothamites came to graves at night. But the body wasn’t in Bristol.

Then again…

A breathy laugh escaped him. His arms were sore and the casket lid was heavy.

It was 4:31 a.m. when Dick woke up groggily to his phone ringing. ‘Gotham PD’ flashed at him and he frowned.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dick. Jim Godon here,” the commissioner sighed, sounding completely exhausted.

“Uh, hi. What’s up?”  Dick forced his legs out of bed, a hundred million possible scenarios running though his head.

“How close are you to your neighbor, Timothy Drake?”

He paused halfway through putting on his socks. That, he hadn’t expected.

“Did something happen to Tim?”

Other than his parents dying , his mind supplied.

“I know you’re in Blüdhaven and all,” Gordon said, “but if you could come down here, I’d really appreciate it.”

“No problem, I can be there in forty.” 

— 

Good for his word, Dick arrived at the station by 5:20. It was too early, or late rather, for it to be too packed, but there were a couple petty criminals here and there. 

A cop waved him over, and he followed her into Gordon’s office.

Tim looked up at him from the chair by the wall. His eyes were red-rimmed, there was a blanket over his shoulders and he was dressed in what looked like clothes from the lost and found.

“What happened?” Dick asked, kneeling in front of him, but keeping Gordon in his peripheral vision.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Gordon sighed, running a hand down his face. “Kid said he wouldn’t talk unless you were here. A couple of our guys found him, wandering the streets covered in mud.”

“Tim…?”

Dick turned his full attention to him now, placing a hand on his knee and trying to catch his eye. Tim looked at him for a second before pressing his hands to his eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

“ I faked an aunt.”

A hush fell over the room as both the commissioner and Dick stared at him.

“You…” Dick furrowed his brow, trying to wrap his head around the words. “You faked… an aunt?”

“And a nanny, and three babysitters, and hundreds of phone calls- and- and… I faked a burglary because I accidentally broke a vase. ”

Tim’s voice broke as he hunched over sobbing. Moving slowly, Dick stood up and carefully pulled him into a hug. Gordon let them have a moment before he started talking.

“Let me see if I understand what you’re saying. Your aunt, your mother’s sister, your legal guardian, who we’ve been trying to contact… The reason we can’t reach her is because you- you just made her up? You forged a birth certificate. An ID… a social security number… a job… tax records …?”

“I’ve been doing it for years,” Tim gasped into Dick’s shirt. “I didn’t want my parents to get in t-trouble, so I’d make fake payments from their accounts to supposed nannies. But my parents kept leaving and there was nothing else I could do. I went out tonight to- to see them. I miss them. But I always miss them. I just needed to show myself it was permanent this time.”

“Tim, kiddo,” Dick whispered. “How often were your parents out of town?”

“They were only home a couple weeks out of the year…”

“Oh.” 

Dick took a deep breath, rubbing circles across his back. Tim buried his face in his chest, shaking with every breath.

I didn’t know. I didn’t know he was all alone. I should’ve known.

“Son, I’m gonna be honest with you here,” Gordon spoke calmly. “I know you’re a smart kid, you probably already know this, so I’m going ahead and saying it. You’re going to get charged with fraud, and I need to call CPS so you can be placed into the system.”

Tightening his hug until he was practically crushing Tim, Dick turned back to Gordon.

“If that’s the case, Commissioner, then you already know what I’m going to say.”

“I know, Dick. I know.” He sighed.

Dick gave him puppy eyes. “He’s shaken right now. Bruce will call you as soon as we get to the manor, and he can arrange for everything.”

“I really shouldn’t be doing this. He’s committed very serious fraud, Dick,” Gordon said sternly, even though his body was less tense than it had been earlier.

“And Bruce has some pretty good lawyers. Please, let me take him home with me.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Gordon finally gave in, sighing.

“I want to hear my phone ringing within the next hour, Dick. The next hour.”

“You got it, Commissioner,” Dick promised, helping Tim to his feet, keeping him close.

“The next hour,” Gordon called out to them as they left his office.

They walked out the police station and Dick guided Tim over to his car, which he’d parked a block away. They sat in silence for a moment, as Dick tried to gather his thoughts and Tim awkwardly played with the glove compartment door.

“Tim, I’m so sorry about, well, everything that’s happened. But I promise, Bruce- me and Bruce, we’re going to make it okay, alright?”

“Yeah. Funny, I was just about to say the same thing.” 

Dick blinked. Because Tim’s voice was oddly composed, lacking even the slightest bit of tears. He took a better look at him, suddenly remembering what kinds of things he kept in his glove compartment. Tim raised a can to his face, his expression slightly remorseful, yet serious and calculating. 

That spark in his eyes was suddenly very familiar.

“I’m gonna stop him before he makes a huge mistake. And then you can make everything better.”

Knock-out spray hit him, feeling almost like a slap, as the stupid realization dawned on him and he lost consciousness.

Timmy Drake is —

Jason groaned. It was too early for this. 

Someone, a very dead someone, was knocking on his door. At 6:00 in the fucking morning. Scrubbing at his eyes, he got up from where he’d crashed on his couch, pulling a gun out of the waistband of his underwear.

He paused for a moment, for effect, before almost ripping the door off its hinges and glaring murderously down at—

What the fuck. What the actual fuck.

Catboy, aka Replacement 2, aka Timothy Jackson Drake, was standing in the hallway in his civies. His really odd civies, that kind of looked like he tried to dress himself for the first time in his life, and had no concept of style or color coordination. And that wasn’t even the weirdest part, glossing over the fact that he knew where Jason’s safehouse was.

No, the weird thing was, that he was attempting to hold an unconscious Dick Grayson in some sort of piggyback.

Snorting, Jason pointed the gun to his face.

“I didn’ order girl scout cookies.”

“Well that’s too bad,” Tim answered seriously, setting Dick down, indifferent to the gun. “I’m kind of hungry after having to climb all those stairs like this. Does the superintendent know those things are a safety hazard? Well, maybe I’ll leave a note.”

“What'd ya think yer doin’ Replacement?” Jason growled.

“Borrowing your safehouse.”

“Vampires are supposed ta be invited in. So, really, ya can’—”

Tim sprayed him in the face and the world went foggy, then dark as he hit the floor.

To be honest, Tim couldn’t believe the Red Hood’s kitchen was so well kept.

Then again, Alfred had once told him Jason liked to cook. So he was pleasantly surprised to find Jason had ingredients to make salsa verde, which went perfectly with some sunny-side-up eggs with fried onion and tomato. Just as he was plating it, carefully dripping the sauce, Dick started to wake up.

He watched him as he twitched, trying to sit up right, only to knock into Jason. Who, of course, woke up and socked Dick in the jaw.

There was a moment of silence as both parties took in what was happening. They turned to stare at Tim as he nonchalantly placed two plates on the table and stood back.

“Breakfast?” he offered. 

“Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Jason hissed. “Ya probably poisoned—” He paused, glancing from the eggs to Tim and back again. “This is— ya made this? You? ”

“Shocker, I know,” Tim answered with a shrug. “You were planning on making salsa verde right? I used your stuff.”

“Well, good choice. I guess ’m kinda hungry…”

Jason came over to him casually sitting down at his table, poking at an egg yoke with a fork before digging in.

“Can…” 

They both look over to Dick again, who was staring at Jason like he’d seen a ghost. 

Close, but not quite. Ghosts can’t eat eggs. I think. Probably.

“Can you seriously only think of your stomach right now?” Dick whispered. He swallowed. “Tim. Tim, who is that?”

“Jason.”

“Yeah, Jason,” Jason echoed, taking another bite. “Damn it, Replacement. If this’s a bribe, it’s workin’.”

“No, I really just figured since you guys hadn’t eaten, I might help in that department.”

“Well—”

“Uh, hello?” Dick yelped. “I hate to interrupt your breakfast, but what the actual fuck, Tim ! ”

Tim sighed. Sometimes Dick could take so long to catch up.

“Jason is alive, he’s the Red Hood. I came here to ask him not to hurt me and Steph. Stephanie Brown,” he clarified for Jason. He shrugged. “I figured I can’t talk him out of the show down he has planned with Joker and Batman, but hey, you never know...” he unsubtly hinted, raising his eyebrows.

“Not happenin’, Timbo,” Jason answered, mouth full. “If Bats ever loved me he would've killed Joker.”

“First of all, he loves you. Second of all: no. Batman doesn’t kill.”

“Whatever, Timmers. He replaced me. Times two.”

“You’re Jason?” Dick repeated breathlessly. “You’re really… Little Wing? ”

“Not so lil’ anymore, Dickiebird, so—” Jason broke off in a huff as Dick crashed into him.

“You dumbass, why didn’t you come home?” Dick sobbed into Jason’s shoulder.

“I’m- I was - It’s- The league… Fuck if I know, Big Bird,” he grumbled, wrapping him in a hug.

Tim let them have their moment before he started talking again.

“Nobody replaced you, Jason. I promise. Steph is, she’s Steph , she’s the bes- I mean, she's good at what she does. If you just meet her, you’d be friends right away. And like I told you when you saw me, I’m not Robin. I’m just a damn good detective who made a business deal for the sake of the city.”

Jason’s arms went slack around Dick, his jaw falling open.

“Yer him. Catwoman’s Secret Love Child. Yer that kid, the one I met on my smokin' roof—!”

“Correction, that’s my roof.”

“Nah, pretty sure it’s mine. But that’s why yer Catboy , yer… How. Wait. Tim Drake is Catboy, who is Alvin Draper, who is Tim Drake. This’s confusin’.”

“The point is nobody replaced you.” Tim leaned back against the kitchen counter, taking the two brothers in. He forced himself not to see what he desperately wanted his whole life. “You should go home now, Jason. Facing the Joker will only hurt you more.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Bruce... B, he doesn’ care—”

“He does ,” Tim sighed with exasperation. “He cares. Everybody cares. Dick literally fucking loves you.”

Jason shoved Dick off of him, finishing off the last of his eggs with a huff.

From the floor, Dick flipped him the bird. “Really feeling the love here. But he’s not lying. I don’t know what happened to you, Jason, and maybe you’ll tell us later—”

“No.”

“But you and dad, you should talk. Just talk it out. I know, the heads and the body count, but B loves you, Little Wing, Red Hood or Robin or Jason. And he’s gonna listen. I’ll make him.”

Tim nodded his approval and Jason grunted, crossing his arms.

“Eat yer breakfast and shush.”

Dick got up, and took a seat, eating a couple bite before he was speaking once more.

“Why did you trick me into coming here?” He frowned at Tim. “Really. What the heck Tim, why didn’t you tell me any of this? Why didn’t you tell me you were Alvin? I mean, hell, I love you, Timmy. But I hate you.”

Tim did his best not to let his flinch show.

“You wouldn’t have believed me if I told you. I mean, I barely believed me until I saw the grave myself. Then I just knew.”

“But, Tim, you’re Alvin Draper — wow, this seriously good,” Dick cut himself off, half way through his eggs, before getting back on topic. “How… How could you lie to me about that?”

“Oooh, family drama,” Jason whispered, smirking.

“You’re the family drama,” Tim shot back, rolling his eyes. “And…” Do it. Just do it. Cut your losses. “And what’s it to you, Dick? You don’t know me. ‘Timmy’ Drake is no different from ‘Brucie’ Wayne, it’s a stupid public act. Everything you hate about me is who I am.”

“Shit. Tim, I didn’t mean it like that—”

This is it. 

“Yeah, you did. And I don’t care. I hate you too.” He had to stop to try and not break, to build up the nerve to keep going. “I’m a liar, I’m a smartass, and I love coffee and cold cases. Alvin Draper is Tim Drake, and that’s me. I started this because of the city, not to play house. You have your brother back now, so- so I think you know what I’m implying.”

It’s too hard to say goodbye, so better not to say it at all... But why does it still hurt so much?

“Ooookay, Tim, I think I get whatcha gettin’ at. But if ya really mean it, why’re ya cryin’?”

Bruce was up early. Too early really, but sleeping felt futile now.

Of all the things he knew not to expect last night, Stephanie telling him Alvin wasn’t coming wasn’t one of them. After weeks of prepping and hyping himself up to talk to his rival partner, he wasn’t even there when Bruce was finally ready.

How many hours had he been practicing? And all to have to wait one more excruciating day. He’d made a PowerPoint. He’d put together a folder and notes. Notes!

“Thank you for coming, Alvin,” he recited in his head. “After a few years of investigating, and two years of knowing you, there are a few points I would like to talk to you about. First of all, you’re an amazing kid, I really want you to know that. You’re smart, and yes, you are the Greatest Detective. I’m never saying that again. Take it in while you can. Second, you’ve been a really great help to me and Gotham, and an incredible partner all around, as you can see with all these charts. So, I’ve put a lot of thought into this. I know you have parents. And I don’t have to be a parent to you, but I want you to know you’re important to me and my family. So, Sam Green, I was wondering —

His phone started ringing and he looked down mournfully at his empty mug, before answering with a sigh.

“Hello, Bruce Wayne speak— Commissioner…?”

Dick stayed still as Tim raised a hand to his cheek, confirming that he was, indeed, crying. 

“Oh,” he said simply. “It’s the onion.”

“Yer a shit liar,” Jason told him, leaning back in his chair. "What's the plan? Runnin'? Where? If yer not my replacement, what are ya then?"

“I'm- I'm.... You’re- You the shit!” Tim tried to argue, which only made the dam break faster. “You’re- This- This is all your fault! I was going to kidnap you and leave you at Wayne Manor, but now it’s over!” he sniffed, swiping at his face. “You had to go and talk to me on the roof. You had to go and talk to me and give me this stupid sense of responsibility for you guys. And then you’re stupid dad went and lost it all over Gotham, and I had to do something, I had to! And then, then I was stupid and got too close. Then I was stupid and lied to the one person who ever saw me. I was st-stupid and my parents are dead. I was stupid and got picked up by the police. I was stupid because I told the truth for once in my stupid life, just to tell more lies so I could get your brother to you!”

“Tim.” Dick moved his chair back and opened his arms. “It’s gonna be okay.”

I promised you I would fix this.

It was different than at the police station. This time, when Tim let Dick hug him, it was real. 

Jason exchanged looks with him over Tim’s head. 

“Jay, put some clothes on, we have a kidnapping to finish,” Dick declared.

“Why can’ I go like this?” Jason asked, dramatically posing in his underwear and t-shirt.

“You’re not wearing shoes.”

“ Yer shoes don’ even match, fucker.”

Dick glanced at his feet. “Touche. Though, what will Alfred say? When we get you to the manor, he’ll ask you to put some clothes on, and you know you can’t say no to Alfred. And whose clothes are the only ones your size at the manor, dear brother?”

“...Bruce’s,” Jason conceded. He left to get dressed, leaving Dick alone with Tim for a bit. 

He ran his fingers through Tim’s hair, waiting until he lifted his head. 

“Hey.”

“Hi… I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too… It’ll be okay, Baby Bird,” he whispered. “Jason’s coming home. We can tell Bruce and everyone together. You’ll stay with us and not run away. And then we’ll make sure you don’t get arrested for fraud.”

“Fraud?” Jason asked as he came back into the room.

Dick pointedly ignored him. “Can I have my car keys back?”

“Yeah,” Tim mumbled, getting up. He fished through his pocket and tossed the keys to Dick.

It will be okay.

Starting the engine, Dick looked back at his little brothers in the back seat.

“Hypothetically, couldja make me a whole new identity?”

“I mean, yeah, I could.”

“An’ hypothetically, couldja make my name Bruce Wayne?”

“I mean…”

“Jason, stop enabling him!”

It will get better.

Speeding out of the front gate, Bruce hit the brakes hard when he almost crashed into Dick’s car.

“Dick!” he called out as he ran over. “Dick, where have you been? What— Dick…” 

He rolled his eyes as his son took a very long time to roll the window down and look up at him.

“This is a delivery,” he explained.

Bruce blinked at him.

“I’m delivering very important cargo.”

“Boo!” A strangely familiar voice yelled from the back. “Yer not funny, Dickie, and ya never will be.”

He did a double take, when he saw Jason (his son ; older, bigger, taller) sitting beside Timothy Drake.

“Dick,” Bruce whispered faintly. “Dick, who is that?”

“Jason,” Dick replied, at the same time Jason said: “Timmy, duh.”

“Right…” he said slowly, scanning the car for any signs of Clayface.

“You’ll find the DNA test to be a match, I would presume. But do it anyway, if you don’t believe me. It’s not like I dug up a grave and spent days investigating for nothing.”

Bruce and Tim stared at each other, and if Bruce squinted enough… Then this kid reminded him a whole lot of another one he thought he knew. The conversation with Commissioner Gordon replayed in his ears.

“Sam Green was a contingency plan in case I started investigating you, wasn't it.”

“Yup.”

“Oh.”

Three months later, Tim woke up to Cass shaking his shoulder. She smiled when he opened his eyes.

“Come. It’s time,” she told him.

“Okay, coming,” he yawned, turning to Steph who’d fallen asleep next to him during the movie. “Steph come on, get up.”

“Noooo, Timmmmmm,” she groaned, wrapping her arms around him. “Five more minutes.”

“Five more minutes and Alfred’s cookies will be all gone,” he told her.

That woke her up right away. “Not if I can help it.”

She dragged him at top speed to the dining room, sitting down close to Barbara, who waved at them.

“Jason,” Tim greeted the guest of honor. 

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not as amused by the whole party. Tim grinned at him.

“Happy Un-Death Day.”

“Tim, we agreed not to call it that,” Dick reminded him.

“Sounds cooler than ‘Back to Life Day’,” Jason complained. “Literally, the only ones who didn’ like ‘Un-Death Day’ were ya an’ Bruce.”

“Well, what about Alfie?” Dick argued, turning to the butler.

“I am not saying a word,” Alfred answered curtly, his mustache twitching.

“See, he likes it too.”

“That’s not what he said!”

“Yeah, it kinda is.”

“No, it’s not!”

“What’s going on here?” Bruce asked in a hushed voice, appearing behind Tim.

“I started a riot,” he whispered back.

“Oh?” Bruce chuckled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Well, why don’t we reel everybody in so we can take a family picture, okay?”

Tim smiled back at him. “Sounds good.”

Family.