Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started when Tim was reading through a case for Dick in the local Batburger. Not a Nightwing case— an actual police case that Dick didn’t have the energy to work on. His older brother had gone and gotten sick from staking out a warehouse for two hours in the rain, and Tim offered to shed some insight on a particularly difficult case that Dick had been complaining about for the past week. Tim told himself he’d do anything to get him to shut up about it.

And so, that brings us to the present, where Tim was sitting comfortably in the back of the restaurant. His right hand was cradling a warm cup of hot chocolate and his left was furiously writing in a battered old notebook. Case files were spread out on the table in front of him, and were thankfully written in code so nobody could look over his shoulder and understand what he was working on.

He had Dylan in his right ear, talking about a new hero he’d been reading about who’d shown up recently in Fawcett City. All Tim could make out from the conversation— Dylan’s accent got near undecipherable when they were excited about something— was that the hero was going by ‘Captain Marvel’ and nobody saw him outside of costume. Like, ever. (The Brit had made that part very clear, even though most vigilantes hadn’t been seen outside of costume.) Apparently, Captain Marvel didn’t use a mask to cover his face, and he carried himself in a way that was hard to dismiss. Further, he was built like a fucking truck, Tim, he’s pretty hard to miss. I’ll send a few pictures of him.

The raven-haired boy would be lying if he said it didn’t intrigue him, but he really had to finish writing up these notes for Dick.

“Maybe he doesn’t actually live in Fawcett, Dylan.”

“He has to, Tim. There’s no way someone that powerful would choose to protect such a peaceful city unless it was his hometown. Anyway— apparently, the Captain hasn’t been out on patrol at all lately. The blog I’m following is pretty worried about him. They’re saying the longest he’s been out of commission was when he went to help the JL with some problem off-planet. He was gone for 5 days. It’s been a week and a half, Tim. Maybe—”

“Maybe he’s busy with real life stuff.” Tim murmurs, interrupting Dylan’s rant and turning over a page in the file. “Like I am, Dyl. Right now. Real life stuff.”

A sigh echoes through his earphone. “Yeah, but I made you take a week off patrol after you called me with a fucking stab wound. I doubt that would happen to Mr. Marvel, he’s like a functioning alien adult or something. He doesn’t have people to ground him. And he has super enhanced healing, like Superman. Can I meet Superman, Tim?”

“Are you saying I’m not a functioning adult?” Tim accuses, pointedly ignoring Dylan’s request.

“Of course not, Timmy.” Dylan amends quickly. His statement was followed by a tired sigh. “I wonder what it’s like having your shit together.”

Tim snorts into his drink and nibbles on a fry. It was far too salty. “Let me know if you find someone who does.”

“Haha. Why don’t you ask Dick? He seems pretty adult-y to me.”

“You know the real life stuff I’m doing? It’s Dick’s casework for his real life, adult job. Idiot was on a stakeout in the freezing rain for two hours and got himself sick.”

“Really? I take it back. You should ask Mr. Marvel if you ever meet him.”

After finishing the last of his scribbling, Tim lets out a relieved sigh and puts his pen down, cradling his wrist as it began to ache. He closes the files and stuffs them into his backpack before standing up and stretching.

“Have you finished Dick’s work? Is that seriously what you’ve been working on for the past—” Dylan pauses for a few moments, and Tim heard scrambling from the line, followed by a curse, “—three hours?!”

Tim nods solemnly, waving goodbye to the waitress who had served him as he walked out into the streets of Gotham. The sun was setting behind Wayne Tower, and Tim silently wished he’d brought his camera with him. He really had to get back into the habit of taking it out with him.

“Timothy, I swear if you just nodded, I’m going to punch something. Preferably you, when you come over near Christmas.”

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, yes, it was what I was working on for the past three hours I’ve been talking to you. All of that time and all of yesterday, in the Cave. Hunting down a serial killer as a cop is much more difficult than as a vigilante, apparently. Especially with what poor Dickie has access to on his shitty cop database. If I was allowed to use the Batcomputer…” Tim says, trailing off at the end of his complaining as he notices a small movement in the alley he’d just walked past. Hesitantly, he forces himself to stop and stare into the alley, unblinking, in an attempt to catch movement again.

Nothing… How strange.

In his focus, he’d tuned out Dylan, so he came back to a lovely string of curses that would make Dick pass out.

“Timothy. I swear to the gods, if you’ve gotten yourself into trouble outside a fucking Batburger, I’m calling Jason to laugh at you.”

“Do not call Jason, what the fuck? I tuned out for like, ten seconds!” Tim snaps, glancing one more time at the alley before continuing down the street.

“Mate, you weren’t responding for a minute, minimum. What caught your interest?”

“I thought I saw something in an alley. Turned out to be nothing.” But he couldn’t shake the unease that was creeping up his spine. He had pretty decent vision, and was a Bat. He was trained to see slight movement in the dark; there was no way in hell he was making it up.

“Maybe you’re just tired. I know for a fact you didn’t sleep last night.”

“I was busy with the case and making sure Dick stayed put. Someone had to give Alfie a break, and Damian has school today,” he murmurs. Casting a glance down the street one last time, Tim decided that he’ll leave it for the time being. Dylan was right; he was tired and was absolutely going to pass out after watching a movie with the Brit when he got home.

“Sigh. I still don’t get why you didn’t make Bruce do it. Isn’t he literally your dad?”

“Full offense to Bruce, but I only trust him with bleeding wounds. He is useless when it comes to sickness. That is way more Alfred’s domain than his.”

“Fair enough. Still up for Frozen tonight?”

Tim grins, the alleyway gone from his mind in an instant. “I thought you’d never ask.”

-

The second time it happened— a good week later— Tim was again outside the same Batburger, this time with Jason complaining about a numb foot or something.

Stakeouts.

It was dark out, and he was on his first patrol since being grounded by Dylan. He’d taken his usual route, not wanting to throw himself into some complicated and confusing Underworld case so soon. After stopping a few deals, saving kids from being beaten up and almost throwing his brother into the river, Tim had found himself heading in the direction of the alleyway.

He didn’t even know why he’d remembered it, considering he’d forgotten about it up until now. The mind worked in mysterious ways, clearly. Or, that’s what Alfred told him, so who knows if it was really true.

But then again, Alfred was never wrong.

Tim shouldn’t have remembered though. It was insignificant and probably a result of his sleep deprivation.

And yet, here he was, perched in the shadows of the bright neon sign, biting back a sigh as Jason went on another rant about something or other.

“And like I said Red, always bring somethin’ to do on stakeouts, because this shit is one of— if not the— most boring things I think I’ve ev’r done in my life. Why did B haf’ta to bother me ‘bout this? It ain’t my problem that Wing got himself sick and the brat has homework catch-up.”

“Hood, if you complain about your stakeout one more time, I’m going to come down there and kill you.”

Jason laughs quietly, the tone teasing. “I’d like t’a see ya try, baby bird. Bet you’re just pissy that your little caretaker from England grounded ya.”

Tim bites back another sigh as Jason starts raving about all the fun he’d been having, and how much work he’d gotten done. Usually, this would’ve bothered Tim, but he’d spotted something curled up in the fire escape by the side of the building, and it had immediately caught his attention.

Slowly, he stands up and walks to the edge of the building, his cape billowing out behind him dramatically. The thing— whatever it was— hadn’t moved an inch. What was it?

And more importantly, what the hell was he doing? It was just going to be a pile of clothes, or a bag that someone had thrown out of their window and missed the dumpsters. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. That same feeling of unease that he felt when he’d looked down the alley earlier that week.

He scales the building to the opposite fire escape and leans gently on the metal bars, peering through the shadows at the thing again and— shit, he was pretty sure that was a kid.

Chapter Text

Everything was too loud and too quiet.

Tim was frozen on the fire escape. Distantly, he heard a voice yelling his name, but his heartbeat was too loud. And the kid— the kid was too quiet. He takes a step forward, wincing at the sound of his steel-toed boots scraping against the metal and casts a worried glance at the bundle on the opposite side of the street. A mop of raven hair stuck out from the top of what appeared to be a blanket, which was rising and falling at an almost atomic level. It took Tim a few moments of intense concentration (and ignoring his increasing heart-rate) to see that the kid was actually breathing.

At some point, Tim must have turned his communicator off, or to silent, because when he reached the bundle and could focus on his surroundings without having a panic attack, Jason was silent— which was something that never happened around Tim. His big brother always had something to talk about.

Kneeling down in front of the kid was definitely in his top ten most emotional experiences ever (with number one being when Bruce called him ‘son’ for the first time. Albeit, he was high on fear toxin at the time, but it stuck with him nonetheless).

Slowly, he reached out with both arms, carefully bringing the kid to rest on his knees as he held them tight to his chest. The blanket— or, oversized red hoodie, now that Tim had a closer look at it— had shifted when he’d moved the kid, and he could see their face clearly, even in the dim alley lighting.

A scruffy face, covered in scratches and bruises. Scars littered the sides of the kid’s face and covered one eye, which was closed. The kid’s mouth was open slightly, and Tim was very relieved to hear soft breathing. Running a hand through the kid’s raven hair, Tim stands up, adjusting them in his hold as he clambers up the side of the building to the roof. Was he really about to kidnap a child?

Well. It wasn’t kidnapping, really.

Really?

Scratch that, it absolutely was.

But it was for the kid’s safety! The kid— whose name he needed to find out.

A raven-haired kid, most likely homeless. God, he was turning into Bruce before his very eyes.

Tim exhaled through his nose harshly and began walking to one of his more private safe houses. Only Jason knew where it was (and that was because the fucker had followed Tim there). With one last check of the alley, he shoots out his grapple line and disappeared into the night.

-

Two hours had passed since Tim had gotten to the safe house, and the kid was thankfully looking much better than he had been before.

When they’d gotten there, Tim had immediately turned on his emergency heating and laid the kid down next to the radiator. After taking a quick shower and fishing out some old clothes for himself and the kid (and changing the both of them), Tim had found himself running a hand through the boy’s soft hair with one hand, and flicking through his phone with the other.

It had been highly suspicious when Jason hadn’t called or messaged him asking him where he’d disappeared off to (since he ditched patrol at least an hour early), but a sharp knock on the door snapped him out of aforementioned suspicion almost immediately.

Gently, Tim shifts the kid and makes his way to the door, glancing down at himself in slight disdain before answering it. He didn’t particularly want anyone to see him wearing an oversized Nightwing t-shirt with Batman-themed sweatpants, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He was greeted with a fierce hug, which made him flinch involuntarily, but was welcomed gratefully after he processed what was actually happening. Craning his neck back, Tim smirks at the sight of Jason with his hood pulled up to cover his face in shadows.

“Nice of you to finally come by, Jason.”

The reaction he received was not one he expected. Jason pulled out of the hug with a fierce look in his glowing green eyes and a frown etched on his face. He held Tim at arm’s length; his hands planted firmly on the younger boys shoulders: a silent threat to listen, or so help me God.

“Timothy Jackson Drake. You do not get’ta have a fuckin’ panic attack over comms an’en disconnect and disappear off the face of Gotham without tellin’ at least me.”

Tim shuffles in place. “I didn’t realise I’d disconnected. I meant to reconnect as soon as I got here but I had more… important things to take care of.”

“More important than makin’ sure family knows you’re safe?! When I heard the discon’ct notif and ya didn’t show up again for half ‘n hour, I was gonna call Dickiebird to help find ya, but then I remembered your shitty little outback safe house ‘n thought you’d go there. I was right.” At least he was still able to look smug. Tim feels his tense shoulders sag slightly.

“Jay— listen. I’m really sorry for ditching you on patrol. Genuinely. But it makes you feel better, I’m not hurt at all and there was a legitimate reason…”

“And the panic attack?”

Tim scowls. “I did not have a panic attack.”

Jason drops his arms from Tim’s shoulders and crosses them over his chest, scowling back with double the ferocity. “And I’m Superman. You did have a panic attack, even if you snapped out of it quickly.”

Tim’s mind flits back to when he’d spotted the kid and— yeah, that probably was a panic attack, wasn’t it? Elevated heartbeat, quickened breathing. Being frozen and hypersensitive to sounds…

Damn it. Right when he thought he’d been getting better with them.

“Okay, fine, I did. But it was for good reason!”

“Well, Timbit, you’d better give me a good reason.”

With the silent permission to move, Tim immediately spins on his heel and rushes into his bedroom, letting a sharp, relieved exhale escape him when he saw the kid curled around one of the many pillows strewn on the bed. He slowly makes his way over and perches next to them, sparing a glance at the frozen Jason in the doorway.

Tim smiles softly. “He doesn’t bite, Jason.”

The vigilante swears under his breath and walks over to the bed, gazing down at the child curled up in the blankets. Tim recognised the look on his face as the exact same one Dick had when one of them got severely hurt, and attempted to bite back his ever-growing smile.

“This— a kid? How old is he, Timbit?” Jason asks; his voice light and quiet. “He doesn’t look a day over eight.”

Tim shuffles in next to the boy— where he’d been before— and starts running his hand through their hair again, before gazing up at Jason with a pained expression. “He still hasn’t woken up… but I think he’s been out on the streets for a while.”

“No doubts about that.” Jason’s eyes widen as he lets out a breathy, “Are those scars?”

“Eight on his face, a few littered around his torso… mainly stab wounds, but there is a bullet scar on his left shoulder.” Tim recounts automatically. He had the decency to look guilty when Jason shot a horrified look at him.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes. It was tense and Tim got antsy, so he grabbed his phone from where he left it and began furiously scrolling through Jason’s current case in an attempt to distract himself. Jason had brought a plush armchair from the living room and was peering over the younger Wayne’s shoulder in disdain, but didn’t argue with his brothers actions.

The silence was broken by a low groan, followed by a few weak coughs. Jason was on his feet immediately, reaching out for the domino he’d taken off earlier. He was stopped by Tim, who simply stared at him, unamused, before looking at the kid— who was waking up— with soft eyes.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed as the kid finally opened their eyes.

Royal blue eyes gazed into Tim’s dull ones.

Oh.

You have got to be kidding me.

Chapter Text

Silence echoed around the room once more, only to be broken by Jason’s poorly concealed snort into the crook of his elbow. Tim shoots a furious glare at him, but he knew it wouldn’t work— his face felt as if it were on fire.

Steeling himself, he looks at the kid, who was still staring at him. It was only when Jason prodded him was when he decided to say something.

“Hey…” Tim starts hesitantly, “How are you feeling?”

The kid frowns. “Where am I?”

“Oh you’re— we’re at my house. I found you sleeping in an alleyway and my… my panic got the best of me?”

The kid only seemed to frown further and tears his eyes from Tim to stare at Jason. “These aren’t my clothes.”

Jason smiles wryly and gestures at Tim. “Clearly, my brother thought it appropriate to change ‘em. I don’t even wanna begin to imagine the state of them if Tim decided to change them. He probably burned them.”

As Tim flicks Jason with a grimace, the kid stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “You— You burned them?!”

“No! No, I did not burn them; they’re drying in the kitchen. Jason, you bastard, shut up. Shit— I mean, sugar, sorry for swearing, kid.” Tim stumbles, flashing a reassuring smile at the child still curled up to his side. “Hey— what’s your name?”

“Billy.”

The kid— Billy— stared back up at Tim before looking down at the Batman t-shirt he was in. He began to play with a loose thread. Jason stood up and stretched, announcing that he was going to make something to eat before beginning to hum a song and leaving the room. It sounded familiar, like he’d heard it recently.

Let It Go.

Oh, Tim was going to hold this over Jason for months.

But first, back to his current predicament.

Tim glanced down at Billy, and at the thread that was tightly wrapped around his pinkie, and decided that they should probably move this conversation to the dining area. Taking a breath, he lifted Billy into his arms, much to the kid’s chagrin.

After a few moments of awkward shuffling, the duo was sat at Tim’s table, watching Jason methodically dance around the kitchen while making what looked like spaghetti. Jason spoke up first.

“So, Billy, what were you doing in an alley?”

Billy scoffs. “Sleeping. What the fuck else would I be doing?”

Tim gapes as Jason barks an amused laugh. “I like your attitude kid. But seriously, any Gotham kid knows better than to sleep in an alley that close to The Narrows. The assholes there have zero morals. At least the Crime Alley no-goods follow a strict code to not mess with kids, you’d’ve been better off there.”

Billy mutters something under his breath, quiet enough for Jason to miss, but Tim to hear. The latter’s eyes widen in surprise and he reaches over the table to grasp Billy’s hand. They stay like that until Jason gets frustrated at the sudden silence.

“What was that, kid?”

“I said I’m not from Gotham.”

Jason took that a lot better than Tim, only shrugging and going back to adding a few spices to the tomato puree. “Where you from, then? Everywhere else is a good few hours walk away, ain’t it?” A thought seemed to cross his mind and he leaned over the counter, making direct eye contact with the kid. “Did your parents leave you behind?”

A flash of… something crossed Billy’s face, but it settled into a distant look as the young boy kept his gaze trained on the flames under the pan of spaghetti. “My parents are dead.”

Tim’s breathing hitches and he squeezes Billy’s hand tighter.

The atmosphere in the room immediately drops.

“Our parents are dead too,” Jason mutters, splitting the spaghetti on three different plates. “At least, our biological parents are. Bruce adopted us and Alfie is basically our mom.”

“I called him my grandfather in an interview once.”

“Hah— that was funny. He was so offended.”

“I was here with my new foster family,” Billy blurts out as Jason puts the food in front of him. “They hated me, but didn’t want to get in trouble for leaving me at home in Fawcett City so they brought me here with them. It was a business deal with— with someone important. Something about— about Mr. Wayne? But they told me to not run off, but their bio kid started— started fucking hitting me!

“So I ran off and then it got all dark and then I slept in an alley in the fire escape for the past week. The nice lady in the food shop gave me leftovers. I— I’m fine though, I just really don’t want to go back there. They took me away from Freddy and Eugene and everyone because I got into a really bad fight at school. I would only be allowed to go back if I behaved but the Harris’ have definitely snitched and now I’m definitely gonna go to juvie—”

“Hey,” Tim says softly, walking around the table to scoop Billy up in his arms. It took mere seconds for him to reciprocate the hug and begin sobbing into Tim’s shoulder. After a few moments, Jason joined them, wrapping his arms around both Billy and Tim, his strong arms keeping them close to him. (It almost brought Tim to tears, but this was about Billy. Tim couldn’t be happier.)

The trio stayed close for what felt like hours until Billy wriggled his way out and sat forcefully on the chair. He began eating the spaghetti, grimacing as he shovelled the first spoonful in his mouth. Tim— still stood with Jason’s arms wrapped around him— assumed that it was cold, because his brother made the best spaghetti. Maybe even better than Alfred’s. Not that he would admit that out loud, of course.

They lapsed into silence again, Tim eventually extracting himself from Jason’s loose hold and going to heat up his own spaghetti in the microwave. Surprisingly, the silences they’d been experiencing weren’t uncomfortable at all.

It felt comforting, even with the newcomer.

-

“Hey, Billy?”

The younger boy hums quietly. Tim takes it as an invitation to continue.

“Do you want to go back to Fawcett City?”

Jason shoots him a look from over Billy’s head. After finishing up, they’d ended up on the couch watching reruns of some kids’ show that seemed to have Billy entranced. Jason had an arm around the kid’s back, his hand resting on Tim’s forearm. Tim was rubbing circles into Billy’s hand— caught in his own— and was curled up into the armrest.

“I do,” Billy admits, tearing his eyes away from the screen to look at Tim properly. “I have my family there and— and I’d love to stay a bit longer with you and Jason, but I have things… responsibilities, back home.”

“Didn’t’cha say they took you outta your old home because you got into a fight?” Jason asks, his tone strangely dangerous.

Billy stares at him in confusion. “Yeah? What about it?”

The brothers fall silent before the pieces click together.

“They’re not allowed to do that.” Tim realises. “The only way you can get taken out of a home in the foster system is if the family can’t or won’t take care of you. Like an emergency, or they change their mind. Billy, did they ever tell you they didn’t want you?”

Billy shakes his head fiercely. “No! They loved me— all of them did. They were all sobbing when I had to leave! They would never ever give me up.” He seems to ponder something before a small smile appears on his face. “Plus, I don’t think Freddy would let them. He’d create a fifty page presentation convincing everyone to let me stay.”

“Do you have any enemies? Anyone who would want you isolated?” Tim presses, sitting bolt upright.

The kid averts his eyes quickly and hesitates before shaking his head. Then he freezes and slowly nods, turning to look at Jason. The eldest doesn’t seem fazed at all.

“Fawcett’s villain doesn’t seem to like me very much,” Billy admits sheepishly. Fawcett’s villain?

Tim stands and walks over to his phone, calling a familiar number and waiting impatiently for the receiver to pick up.

“Tim? It’s five in the fucking morning.”

“Who is Fawcett City’s villain? You told me they were peaceful.”

“Mate, you live in America with the vast majority of enhanced supers. Nowhere is entirely peaceful and you know that.”

“Dylan.”

“Oh, we’re not joking around, are we? Fine. It’s Doctor Siv-something. Sivana, I think. He’s a mad scientist type with a glowing blue eye like Sans— Sans Undertale.” The Brit laughs to himself softly before continuing. “Can’t you just Google this yourself?”

“Thank you,” Tim murmurs, curling around the phone a bit and lowering his voice further. “I needed your stupid voice to ground me. Googling it would’ve meant combing through a bunch of anxiety inducing information and I just needed the gist of it, really. I think I would’ve had another panic attack. I can’t do that to Jason again— or the kid.”

“The what? Tim, did you have an affair? I thought we were forever.”

The raven-haired boy looks back to Jason and Billy, their faces a mixture of concern, fear and amusement. “Shut the fuck up. Listen, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow— or the day after tomorrow, I don’t know. I’ve gotta go now, thanks again.”

“You fucking better. And you’re welcome, y’know, for the whole panic attack thing. You can call again whenever. Unless I have a presentation project that I need to do the next day, then I might cry.”

Tim laughs quietly. “Bye Dyl.”

“Later Timmy.”

The hang up notification buzzed his phone as he put it back down on the low shelf. He sighed and stared at the wall as he considered how to approach the new matter at hand.

“Doctor Sivana?”

Billy nods.

Jason stands and begins to gather his gear from where he left it at the front door. Clearly, the name had struck a nerve— especially judging by the soft green glow the room had been suddenly cast in. He’d only brought a gun and his domino, so there wasn’t much to grab. That and his motorbike keys: it looked like they were going on a late night road trip.

Silently, the eldest grabs Billy by the waist and hauls him onto his shoulder, ignoring the kid’s sudden cries of protest. Tim grabs two old coats and his own helmet before following them out of his safe house. After making sure the door was locked and his security systems were in place, he sat on the bike behind Billy, who was sandwiched between the two brothers.

Jason had given up his motorbike helmet to give to Billy, claiming that he’d already died once before, a stupid accident is not about to take me out for good.

That comment shut the duo behind him up for a good ten minutes.

Tim was the first to recover, and they dissolved into bickering as the moon hung high in the sky.

A lone motorbike sped along the motorway, breaking too many traffic laws to count. On the back was a resurrected anti-hero, a retired CEO and a child who was only ten years old.

Nobody knew this, as the trio made their way towards Fawcett City.

Chapter Text

By the time they reached the large sign outside Fawcett, Tim had fallen off Jason’s bike five times.

And by the time they pulled to a stop in front of Billy’s house, he’d fallen off a further two times.

Not one of these falls was his fault. (Okay, maybe the first one was his fault. Jason had made a sharp turn and he wasn’t holding on as tight as he knew he should have, and he collided into a wall. Billy had fussed over him while glaring at Jason, who simply laughed his ass off.)

It was four in the morning— they’d set off at around one, and Tim had to admit that he was freezing in the thin t-shirt and flimsy jacket he’d thrown on. Jason pulled to a stop outside an old two-storey house before getting off his bike and picking up Billy like a sack of potatoes.

Tim quickly followed, almost tripping over his own feet in his attempt to catch up.

The doorbell had been pressed multiple times by the time Tim caught up, and it was just his luck that the door opened as he clipped Jason around the back of his head.

The woman stood at the door stared at Tim— and only Tim— until he muttered out a quiet apology to Jason. She was terrifying. (Even more so than Dylan and that was saying something.)

She turned to face Jason and Billy and— oh, her entire demeanour changed. She immediately reached out to Billy, who reached back to her with just as much desperation. It was sweet— really sweet. Tim felt tears gather in his eyes and he immediately thought I’m too tired to deal with this.

As he tried to edge away from the heartfelt exchange, Jason caught him and wrapped a firm arm around his shoulders, dragging him to the woman. Absently, he felt Jason’s chest rumble as he talked to the woman, who now had Billy clinging to her side and beaming up at the two brothers like they hung the moon. Tim smiled back at him softly and blatantly ignored when Jason prodded at his side for a few seconds.

“—im. Timothy, there’s a nice woman talking to you, you fuckin’ bastar— I mean— freaking bumble…bee,” Jason trails off, flushing slightly.

Tim straightens his back and smiles pleasantly at the woman. “Hi, I’m Tim.”

The woman laughs. “I’m aware. Thank you so much for bringing our Billy home to us.”

“It was nothing. I— we just…”

She laughs again, quieter. Her eyes fill with amusement and sympathy. “I understand, dear. It must’ve been quite the trek out from Gotham of all places. Your brother was just telling me while you were spaced out.”

Jason chooses that moment to interrupt. Rather unhelpfully, if Tim might add. “He fell off my bike seven times, Miss Rosa.”

The wom— Miss Rosa frowns at that and looks at Tim. “Are you hurt sweetie? I can go and get a cold compress if you need it, we have plenty.”

“No— no I’ve had worse. I mean— I’m not hurt, but it’s late and if Jason and I don’t get back our uh— dad will worry, y’know?”

Jason shoots him a look that Tim doesn’t have the energy to translate. The adrenaline of the situation was finally wearing off and the exhaustion of being awake for almost twenty-four hours straight was starting to hit him. He longed for coffee.

Luckily, his older brother continued with the talking as Tim sunk into his side. “Miss Rosa, it was a real pleasure to meet’cha and to meet Billy. If you— do you wanna exchange numbers? It would mean we could come and visit Billy ‘n’ Tim could sleep without panicking about the kid.” He leaned forward slightly and spoke in a stage whisper, much to Tim’s displeasure. “Don’t tell ‘im I told you this, but he’s become really attached.”

Miss Rosa says something and turns back into the house, leaving Billy standing on the porch. The kid was still in Tim’s oversized clothes.

Tim stumbles forward and kneels in front of him, staring at him straight in the eye. “Bill. If any creepy fuckers try to take you away from this family and that amazing woman, call us and I will make sure they never see the light of day again. Or Jason will. Someone will. I will walk all the way here for you. Do you understand?”

Or, that’s what he tried to say. He was about seventy percent sure that after the first sentence, his words slurred to be unintelligible. However, Billy seemed to get the idea because his eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically.

Satisfied, Tim nods back and makes his way back to Jason, who seemed to be finishing up his conversation with Miss Rosa with dramatic hand gestures and a large smile that was strangely genuine. Well, Tim couldn’t blame him. Miss Rosa was lovely. Amazing. Brilliant.

Jason had an odd look on his face when Tim turned to look at him again. Tim wondered why.

Regardless, Tim says a drowsy and polite goodbye to Miss Rosa and clambers onto Jason’s motorbike, practically melting into the warmth that appeared behind him a few moments later.

He felt the engine start and closed his eyes gently.

And the world went dark, but it was still warm.