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Bruce had hoped it would happen in private. At the manor, or even on patrol. Somewhere quiet, and away from public eye. Away from cameras and reporters, those who loved to twist their lives into something they never truly were.
But…his son seemed to find an extreme joy in being…difficult.
He’d been gone for months. Almost a year. Monthly check-ins with Stephanie and Alfred, the occasional postcard. No visits, though. Mentions of them in passing, but the plans appeared to always conspicuously fall through.
It hurt his soul a little bit. Bruce never thought splitting up Batman and Robin meant losing his son.
And it…wasn’t supposed to happen. Bruce didn’t expect it to happen. The kid was following him, and he was bound to get hurt because of it. He’d meant to put a stop to it, not gain a new sidekick.
And he’d meant to tell Damian. Inform of the sudden shift. But not over the phone, not through a letter. Face to face. Damian was his son, he deserved that much. Besides, through any other means of communicating, Damian’s insecurities would misinterpret the words, and the boy – man, now – would shut down. Maybe cut Bruce out completely this time.
So when Damian strolled into the gala – tailored suit, styled hair, sharp smile – Bruce couldn’t help but be surprised. Be suspicious.
“Tim.” He growled. The boy stuffing his face full of brownies next to him glanced up. “On alert.”
“Why?” Tim mumbled, crumbs exploding from his mouth. He followed Bruce’s gaze, and when he landed on the target, he gasped, nearly choking on his mouth full of food. “No way!”
Bruce blinked. That…wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.
“That’s him, right?” Tim whipped his head around. “That’s…that’s Robin?”
“You’re Robin.” Bruce reminded.
“The first Robin.” And Tim sounded star-struck. “That’s Damian.”
“Do not engage.” Bruce ordered, but it was already falling on deaf ears as Tim took off across the floor. “Do not- Tim!”
And Damian must have heard the shout. He turned his head, acidic smile sharpening even more as he made eye contact with Bruce, as he glanced at the young teen practically skipping across the ballroom floor.
“Stupid ki-” Bruce started, stepping forward. He stopped instantly though, at the rough clearing of a throat nearby.
“Let them meet.” Alfred advised. “It might be good. For both of them.”
“Damian will tear him apart.” Bruce guessed.
“Maybe.” Alfred hummed. “Probably.”
Bruce peeked over at him, eyes narrowed and annoyed. Alfred just shrugged, turning back to replenishing the treats on the table. He steered his attention back to the scene across the room, vaguely noting Vicky Vale had caught on to the scene too.
Tim bumbled his way through the crowd. This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for. For years. Bruce said Damian was a little…flighty, in public. So he had to hurry. Damian didn’t seem like he was about to dart, but Tim didn’t want to risk him changing his mind.
“Dam…Damian!” He huffed, trying to dodge Gotham’s rich and famous. Finally – and if he was honest, he couldn’t say how – he popped out the edge of the crowd, stumbling to a stop in front of the young adult.
“Timothy Drake, I presume?” Damian asked, in lieu of a greeting.
“Y-yeah.” Tim breathed with a smile. “Um, yeah. That’s me.” He paused, then: “What’re you doing here?”
“Well, when one is replaced, it’s customary to see said replacement in action.” Damian shrugged. “And I must say, thus far, I’m not entirely impressed.”
Tim frowned. “Oh.”
“But that’s to be expected, I suppose.” Damian sighed, pulling a handkerchief out of his suit pocket. “With only my father as your mentor, you’re not going to get very far. Now wipe your face.”
Tim blinked, sheepishly taking the cloth and running it over his mouth. “But your dad is cool.” Tim tried. Damian pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, so Tim tried another tactic. “Then…what’re you going to do about it?”
“You’ve forced my hand.” Damian explained. “I had planned to stay away longer, but…well, never trust a Batman to train a Robin. If you’re going to wear my costume, I’m going to make sure you do it right.”
“Wait, so…you’re not mad?” Tim questioned hopefully. “Stephanie said you might be.”
“On the contrary, Drake. I’m livid.” That vicious smile appeared on the elder’s face once more, as he shifted to move away. Tim found himself immediately following. “But that is a conversation between me and my father, not me and a…how older are you? Twelve?”
“Fourteen.” Tim sassed. They walked a few more feet, Damian smiling to the reporters, grabbing a glass of champagne. “So…you’re going to train me now?”
“No.” Damian barked incredulously. “I’m just going to make sure you don’t get killed.”
“So…yes.”
Damian stopped, turned and looked down at him. “You’re annoying, do you know that?”
Tim grinned, showing off a gap from a missing tooth, right on the edge of his smile. “Alfred says it’s part of my charm.”
“Alfred is an old man whose mind is probably going.” Damian retorted. He looked Tim up and down again before narrowing his eyes. “Why are you following me?”
Tim mimicked the look. “You were talking to me.”
Damian exhaled, like that wasn’t the truth. “You’re not going to do this all the time, are you?”
Tim shrugged, seriously. “Maybe.”
Before Damian could retort, a photographer came running up. “Wayne! Picture of you and your brother?”
Damian spun around so fast he might have given himself whiplash. “He is not my-”
“Sure!” Tim shouted, ducking under Damian’s arm and squishing himself against Damian’s side. A wave of shutter clicks sounded around them, followed by coos of some of the partygoers. As the sound died down, Damian glared at Tim. “What? I’ve always wanted a picture with Robin.”
Tim smiled innocently, then. Damian sighed again. “I’m not Robin anymore. Father saw to that.”
“Better late than never, in my opinion.” Tim hummed. Suddenly he reached out, taking hold of Damian’s arm and pulling his towards the crowd. “But enough small talk! You haven’t been home in a while, right? And I know Bruce missed you. So you two have to at least say hello to each other.”
Damian groaned, but knew he couldn’t pull away. Conducting a nerve strike on a child was frowned upon in the public, after all. He glanced to the heavens as Bruce and Alfred came into view.
He wasn’t nervous, though. Not like he thought he’d be. He knew exactly what he was going to say. He’d been planning on saying it since the first moment he saw footage of the ‘new Robin.’ And his opinion hadn’t changed, even now as the boy glanced back at him with an excited smile, as he stared up at him with the same awe Damian had once stared at Bruce with. No, no sentimentalities, no in this line of work. He had to be straight with his father, be straight with this naive child. Before it was too late for him.
Timothy Drake was a terrible replacement.