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“He’s with Master Timothy.”
That’s all Alfred said. That’s all he would say. He seemed to still be in shock. Not so much at Bruce’s ‘miraculous’ return, but at Dick’s.
Though they both knew better than to call it shock. They both knew it was truly, and clearly, disappointment.
Dick had lied. Bruce and Dick had both lied. To everyone. And let them mourn over an empty grave.
They were the worst of the worst. They knew that. But still-
“Tim?” Bruce sounded surprised, suspicious. “Why?”
“They hate each other.” Dick added, glancing towards his mentor. “Or was that…”
“It was different, after Damian returned. They bonded over…something.” Bruce murmured. His face scrunched and Dick realized that Bruce didn’t know. He didn’t know what his youngest two had bonded over, just that they had, and that probably wasn’t the best fact to realize. “But still. What are they doing together? I thought Tim was with the Titans?”
Alfred just sighed, collected the plates and glasses and turned away as he repeated. “He’s with Master Timothy.”
~~
It turned out Tim wasn’t with the Titans at all. Hadn’t been for weeks, claiming to be too busy with Gotham. He kept in touch, though, always apologized for not being around, for always being with his kid brother.
Because, apparently, the two hung out quite often now, according to Miss Sandsmark.
“They’re practically inseparable.” Cassie explained over speakerphone. “In fact, I think…I think Damian actually lives with him now? I’m not really sure, to be honest. Tim doesn’t like talking about Gotham things when he calls, kid brother included.”
“Kid brother?” Dick asked incredulously. “Did…he refer to him as that?”
“Sure did.” Cassie confirmed. “And not like…in an annoyed way? It was almost fond, Dick. Kon is still freaking out about it.”
Dick’s eyes widened. Bruce only frowned.
~~
It had turned out that, after Bruce’s supposed death, Tim had moved. No longer in a tiny studio apartment on the west side, but a two bedroom loft, similar to the penthouse at Wayne Tower but smaller, along Gotham’s south river.
The building had a doorman and incredibly intense security, and Dick wondered if those measures were put in and paid for after the Wayne boys moved in. It took them a half an hour, and just short of a background check to get to one of the elevators.
“Living with him?” Dick mused softly as they rose. “I mean…Alfred could have taken care of Damian. He’s done so before. And Damian would probably be a little against being uprooted all over again. Moving has never been his favorite thing.”
“There must be reasons. For both of them.” Bruce grunted. The elevator suddenly jolted to a halt, and the doors opened to a dim, but lovely, hallway. The carpet was wavy lines of gold and black, the walls a comforting tan. A row of doors on each side, each one a deep brown, golden metal numbers aligned artistically in the upper halves. It almost looked like a fancy hotel, not an apartment complex. “And I guess now we’ll find out what those might be.”
According to Alfred, it was apartment number 535, at the end of the corridor and down a smaller, private hallway. When they stepped off the lift, all of Dick’s focus was on that far corner, at the right, where they would turn and find the doorway that his two littlest brothers were behind.
His heart was thumping at the thought. He didn’t know, he didn’t know the mission to resurrect Damian had been a success. Didn’t know until Bruce told him a few days prior. And Tim…oh god, little Timmy. He hadn’t seen him in almost a year. He missed that kid so much it hurt, most days.
The hallway seemed never-ending, all of the sudden. That every step took them backwards instead of forward. Adrenaline was pumping in his veins. He wanted to run, wanted to sprint to its end, spin around that corner and kick the door in. Take Damian and Tim in his arms and never let them go, not for anything, never again.
Eventually, they reached it, took that ninety-degree turn, and completed the eight more steps forward. Dick only glanced at Bruce’s face once, saw it was impassive, and pushed his attention back to the door in front of them. They could hear music from inside, low and recent. Like it was a radio station, playing today’s hits. That was much more Tim than Damian, but didn’t necessarily mean the younger wasn’t there, too.
It was Bruce who reached out, knocked three times. The music was immediately lowered, and Dick could sense someone inside, trotting towards the door. There were clicks of multiple locks being unfastened, and the slow swish of a heavy door being pulled back.
Dick almost crumbled on the spot.
It was Damian who answered the door, looking curious and brilliant and…taller. Much taller than Dick remembered him, but still him. Still his pouty little brother, still his chubby-cheeked little Robin. Still alive.
And that fact was the most important.
He wanted to rush forward, take Damian into his arms and spin him around until he collapsed. Cry into his hair, and remind him how much he loves him, how much he’s always loved him, will always love him.
But no. That’s not how you deal with Damian Wayne.
It took a split second for Damian to react. For recognition to kick into his brain, and for his eyes to widen. His gaze only flickered across Bruce – apparently he wasn’t surprised his father was truly alive, and wasn’t that weird, that they were all used to that? – and landed squarely on Dick.
Dick tried to smile, tried to say something, but his mind was such a jumble, such a mess of giddiness and joy that no words could be formed.
Damian didn’t blink, couldn’t maybe, and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Dick doesn’t know how long the moment lasted, how long the three of them stood in silence, but it must have been long enough, because suddenly there was the clomping of footsteps, and a bored call of-
“Damian?” Tim appeared around the corner, mixing bowl in hand. Apparently the two of them had been cooking. “Who is i-”
The simple question wasn’t even out of his mouth before Tim mimicked Damian’s actions, eyes widening and lips remaining parted in surprise. Dick did smile now, because there they were, his two little brothers, his two little babies. There and together and safe and alive.
“You…” Tim whispered. “Y-you…”
What a moment this was. Dick wanted to drown in it forever.
Clang!
The moment was broken as Tim suddenly dropped the bowl, tomato sauce spilling across the wooden floor. In a flash, he was stomping forward, grabbing Damian’s shoulder and ripping him backwards, away from the door. In the two seconds it had taken him to move, his face had transformed from shock to fury.
“You’ve both been gone for months, and suddenly you show up at my front door? Are you freaking kidding me?” Tim snarled as he planted himself between Damian and the others. “You…were either of you ever really dead at all?”
“Tim.” Bruce started, stepping ahead of Dick, reaching out for Tim’s shoulder. “It’s okay, we-”
That was answer enough. Not like Tim didn’t already know what it was in the first place.
“No.” Tim slapped him away, taking a bruising hold of the wooden door. “Get the hell out of this building.” He demanded. “Get the hell away from us.”
Neither Bruce nor Dick had a chance to respond before the door was slammed in their faces, Bruce’s hand almost hit in the process. They stood there for a second, trying to listen inside, could hear Tim speaking, voice still sharp and angry, and Damian trying to speak over him, more comforting and calm.
Bruce leaned forward, knocking on the door again. Tim immediately shouted back, and though unsure of what it was exactly, they were both sure it was a curse. Bruce tried a few more times, before sighing and turning.
“Come on.” Bruce whispered, shuffling away. “Let’s go find the others.”
“…Well.” Dick exhaled, melancholy etching into every letter as he reached out, ran a hand over the clean wood. He could hear Tim throwing things now. Damian was silent. “That could have gone better.”
“Hm.” Was all Bruce said as they moved away, back down the hall. And neither of them noticed, not until they were at the elevator, not until they were stepping onto the elevator, and spinning around to press the button for the ground floor, the little boy standing at the end of the hall.
Damian was staring at them silently, body tense. Neither of them could tell if he wanted to bound forward or dive back into the apartment. His face was blank, but curious, blue eyes sharp and knowing. Maybe just a little bit haunted.
The doors began to close, and Dick almost stepped forward, held his arm out to stop them, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Damian was already turning his head back towards the flat, and without another look back, pattered back into that private hallway.
The apartment door slammed right before the elevator doors sealed shut.