Chapter Text
Tim wandered through the halls of Drake Manor, annoyed. The newest servants had just been lectured not to let ‘Little Timmy’ get too close to them. Tim hated being called little. He wasn’t little, he was nearly 10, almost in the double digits, he was practically a grown up! …Okay, so he had just turned 9 last week, but still! He was nearly an adult, which was why his parents constantly left. He was mature, responsible, and trustworthy, so his parents left him on his own a lot. That had to be the reason, right? He shoved a darker thought to the back of his mind before it could take the stage, whispering his darkest fears into his mind, and dragging him into the realm of his nightmares. He shook his head. No, that thought couldn’t be real. His parents only left him so often because they trusted him. And so, like any man of the house or soon to be man of the house, Tim continued his patrol. After all, he had to make sure the house was safe from intruders.
As he walked, he thought about his household. Sure, he wasn’t always alone; There were the servants who showed up once a week to clean, leave some food behind in the cupboard, and report to his parents; There had been a nanny once, but his parents had dismissed her just as Tim was starting to enjoy her company; And, of course, there were Tim’s parents, who were only ever home for the galas and events people like them, and Tim, were meant to thrive on. When his parents weren’t home, they were off on some grand adventure, exploring ruins and tombs, discovering the secrets and treasures of the past. Tim often asked to join them, as he loved learning, but they always replied that a dig was no place for an inexperienced hand. Tim had tried to argue once that it would be impossible to get experience without having that first experience, but gave up when they called him childish and immature. If he wanted an adventure, he’d have to make sure he was the most mature 9 year old the world had ever known. And so he patrolled his home, read all he could about ancient societies and what their lives were like, and awaited his turn to see these sights with his own eyes.
As he finished his rounds, Tim watched as the last of the servants left. Good. Who needed them? Tim could manage perfectly fine on his own. After all, he’d been doing this for 5 years now. Once the door was closed, locked, and double checked to make sure it was completely secure, Tim set about his routine. First he went to the kitchen to make himself some lunch. He had missed out on breakfast, after running out of food the night before, and the staff had been late, so he was starving. He looked through the ingredients left behind, trying to decide what to eat and what to save for another time, before settling on some tomato soup and grilled cheese. He dug through the pots and pans, which to his annoyance had been rearranged again, until he finally found a pot big enough for his soup. He’d have to have soup for a while, it wouldn’t be worth it to try to make a small portion of soup for one meal when a larger portion could keep him fed and full longer, but that was okay by him. Of all the foods he had tried, soup was one that he could never grow tired of. It was safe. It was delicious. And, as long as it was made the right way, it would always turn out the same, with no bad textures or tastes. Yes, Tim could handle soup. He gathered all of his ingredients before him and checked them over: Tomatoes, Onion, Butter, Chicken Broth, and Salt. He carefully melted down the butter, sauteed the onion, then added the chicken broth and tomatoes and let it simmer. He added salt at different stages, taste testing to make sure it wasn’t too much, though by now he was confident in his abilities. As the soup finished, he set about making his grilled cheese. He pulled out a skillet, two slices of sourdough bread, and four slices of swiss cheese. He was very particular, it had to be four slices, no more, no less, otherwise it wouldn’t taste right. He buttered the bread, added the cheese, then set it into the skillet as soon as it was warm enough. He found his favourite spatula and prepared to flip. His first few attempts had ended in a nightmare of a mess that he had only just managed to clean up before the staff returned to check in on him, but now he was practically a pro. After taking a steading breath, he slipped the spatula below the sandwich and flipped it over in the skillet. The bread had browned perfectly, and Tim smiled to himself, proudly. If he could manage this, certainly he would be able to handle anything the expedition required! He pulled out a plate, picked up the skillet by the handle, and carefully moved the grilled cheese from the skillet to the plate with the spatula. After turning off the stove, he took out the ladle and poured some of the soup into a bowl. He carefully took these over to the table and sat down to eat. He turned on the small tv on the counter that the chef would watch whenever he was in the manor, and turned the channel to his favourite sitcom.
It was a show about two different families, who lived very different lives, but were still somehow friends. The parents in each family were active with their kids: one pair of parents were always at the school plays, or recitals, or sporting events, recording everything to share later or to revel in the memories in the future; The other pair of parents were too busy with work, but they always set aside some time on the weekends or at holidays to spend some quality time with the family, and they were always planning vacations or family events to bring together both families for some fun and bonding time. Tim was always a little puzzled by these families. All the kids at Tim’s school would always go on about what expensive new thing their parents got them, or the amazing places they traveled to on a whim, or the famous people they got to meet. None ever mentioned anything about spending time together like this, or about games they played or memories they made. It was all about the things they had and wanted and got. Tim found himself wondering about what life would be like if he had a family like the one on tv. Would he enjoy it? Or would he find himself missing this life? Tim shook his head. It was no good dwelling on these thoughts. His family was his family, there was no way he could experience any other sort of life, so he shouldn’t let the thoughts fill his mind. Letting his mind go blank, or as blank as he could manage, he focused all of his attention on the show as he finished his lunch.