Work Text:
"But dad-"
'crack'
"Don't talk back to me, boy."
The child behind the screen stumbled back, gingerly touching the reddening handprint on his cheek.
"What're you watching?"
Dick started, too engrossed in the film to hear Bruce come in. Tim shifted to face the man, leaving the spot he was snuggled in with Dick to get cold.
"We're watching a movie."
Dick kept his eyes on the screen. He and Bruce weren't on the best terms at the moment; hadn't been for a while if he was being honest with himself.
Bruce must have responded as Tim slithered back into his spot by Dick's side, taking Dick's arm and putting it back around his skinny shoulders.
(God, the kid was so small.)
The kid had been staying over at Wayne Manor more, and Dick had been making an effort to be the big brother he failed to be with Jason. Something swirled in his gut when he thought of the poor kid: sadness, guilt, and a familiar rage he didn't want to touch. It would ruin the moment and perhaps another relationship (or two).
(The knowledge that he could have prevented the death by just sucking it up with Bruce keeps Dick up at night, that and the burning guilt-wrath-sorrow he feels each time the Joker crosses his mind.)
The man stalked forwards, his daunting figure looming over his son. He bent down and took the boy's chin in his fingers, tilting his red cheek towards him. The boy bit his lip to keep from whimpering.
"That should heal by monday," The man grunted, roughly releasing the boy's face. He stood and strode away, only pausing to offer a warning.
"You know what to do if it doesn't."
The boy nodded, furiously wiping away a lone tear. "Yes father."
"What is it about?"
Spurred by his sudden guilt about Jason and the determination to be good for Tim, Dick spoke up, twisting to see the man. "It's about a boy who lives with his abusive parents. He's supposed to run away and start a new life in a little bit."
Bruce looked at Dick for a few moments before nodding. Hope bloomed in his chest; maybe they could make this work.
Dick turned back to the TV, cringing when he saw the bright red of the father's handprint on the son's cheek. He silently wished this part would be over soon.
(He didn't want to admit it, but it reminded him of a few months ago. His face still hurt with the phantom pains of Batman's punch at times)
The lack of movement on his left side brought Dick's attention away from the movie yet again. Tim's constant fidgeting seemed to have stopped, the boy becoming eerily still under Dick's arm Tim had finally started loosening up in Wayne Manor; it made Dick ecstatic to know he felt safe enough to absentmindedly fidget. "Tim?" Dick prompted, craning his neck down to look at the kid. "You alright?"
The boy's face had gone carefully blank; his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Kid?" Dick prompted once more, forgetting the movie as concern curled in his gut.
"Abusive...?"
It was one word, but oh so infused with confusion and denial it was heartbreaking. Dread pooled in Dick's stomach and he shifted to fully face Tim.
"Yeah, baby bird," Dick said, the nickname slipping past his lips he hadn't used that one before; he would take note of that. "The kid's parents are abusive, it's what drives him to run away."
"Oh sweetheart," A woman behind the screen croons, stepping forwards to face the boy. She placed her hand on his cheek and a poorly suppressed flinch later, he leaned into her touch. "You should have known better than to fail like that, didn't you know it would upset us?"
A tear slipped down the boy's cheek. "I'm sorry, mother." He whispered into her palm.
"There there," The woman said, patting his already red cheek. The boy flinched and the woman let out a disapointed sigh and clicked her teeth. The boy curled further into himself.
"I'll leave you to fix what you caused." She said finally, getting up and lingering near his open door. "Be a good boy and make us proud, ok?"
"Yes mother." Was the response, and she curtly nodded, shutting his door with a click' and leaving the boy alone.
"But-" Tim's eyes widened as he watched the TV. His breathing suddenly became erratic and his hands trembled. "No, no, that's wrong." Dick reached out to take Tim's hand in his and the kid flinched so violently it made Dick flinch in return. "You're wrong," He repeated, "That's not abusive."
The teen's entire body trembled now.
"It's not," Dick didn't know who he was trying to convince. "'Cause, 'cause if it was then they would be- but they're not."
Dick only had an inkling of what was happening and still, his heart dropped. "Tim," He began, unsure of how to go about this. He tried his best to keep his voice level for Tim. "If this is about your parents..."
"They're not 𝙖𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚!" Tim shouted, scrambling away from Dick to the other side of the room. "You're wrong, that's wrong, it's wrong, you're wrong-" A tear or two dripped down his face as the boy pressed his hands against his ears. Whether he was trying to block out the sounds of the TV, Dick, or himself, Dick didn't know. Tim swayed on his feet and Dick was quick to rush over and catch him, cradling the trembling boy to his chest. Tim didn't pull away this time, but he did curl into himself. Dick looked warily at the teen and glanced around the room for Bruce, hoping to get some help; a mistake, as the man was gone. Dick couldn't help but scoff. Of course, B would flee at the first sign of emotion. His scoff was also a mistake though, as Tim curled into himself even more something even Dick the acrobat could be jealous of.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry Father please I'm sorry forgive me, father-" Tim cut himself off with a heaving sob. Soon, his blubbering dissolved into wordless cries. Dick hugged the boy tighter and rubbed circles into his back.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby bird," Dick murmured into Tim's hair. Tim's sobs only got louder.
The boy in the screen matched his despair.
A sudden, righteous anger exploded in Dick; it twisted and heaved and rattled his ribcage like that of a caged animal. Not wanting to scare Tim further, Dick let it slowly bleed into his words. Outbursts would do neither of them good.
"You've done nothing wrong, Tim." He whispered fiercely into the boy's ear. "Your parents shouldn't have done what they did. They're terrible people and they don't deserve you."
Tim pushed against Dick, trying to escape from his grip as he blubbered infuriating excuses. Dick let him go, of course, but he didn't want to.
"But the punishments are my fault." Tim spat, anger gracing his features. "If I was a good son they wouldn't have had to hurt me. I KNOW they didn't do it for no reason..." Dick clenched his hands; he wanted to hurt so badly. Tim stepped backward, running his hands through his hair as he rambled.
"And I can't have abusive parents. 'Cause if I did then that means, they did it for fun and all my pain and hurt and desperate need for their attention would be pointless and they would be abusive and it would mean I went through that shit for 𝙉𝙊 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙊𝙉 𝘼𝙏 𝘼𝙇𝙇."
Tim faltered, and a revelation seemed to come upon him. He sank to the ground, his knees hitting the wooden floor. Dick twitched nearby, not wanting to trigger the kid more.
(And to be honest, he was a bit scared of what he himself would do. He hadn't felt anger like this since... well,)
"Dick," The teen sobbed, and Dick bent down on his knees to hover near him.
"Tim,"
"My parents are abusive," Tim admitted, speaking like it was some kind of confession he would get in trouble for. He wrapped his arms around himself. Dick inched closer. "Can I have a hug?"
"Of course," Dick murmured, proud of himself for maintaining a level voice. He closed the gap between them. Tim leaned into the hug this time, unhooking his arms from himself and wrapping them around Dick's chest. Tim let out a shaky exhale.
"My father hit me sometimes," He whispered, shivering a bit at his words. Dick tightened his grip on the teen, grounding himself as much as Tim. "When I talked back or failed to do something." Dick hummed, resting his chin on the teen's head.
"You didn't deserve that, Baby Bird."
Tim sniffed.
"You didn't."
"I know."
Dick thought for a moment about how to continue this. "Do you wanna talk more about it over ice cream?" Tim shook his head.
"Just ice cream?"
The teen's voice was quiet when he spoke. "Yes please."
"Alright," Dick murmured, "Let's do that." He helped Tim up, taking the teen's hand in his. Together they walked across the manor to the kitchen, breaking out way more ice cream than Alfred would like.
Dick hoped Tim couldn't feel his hands shaking.
He really needed to punch something right now.