Work Text:
*Takes place before Jason returns as the Red Hood*
There’s one kid in Dick’s gymnastics class this afternoon that caught his eye, and not for any particularly good reasons. He was a small one, looked way younger than his age, which had to be a minimum of twelve for this class anyways, but he looked to be ten maybe. He also looked oddly familiar, as if Dick had seen him before but couldn't remember where from.
The kid caught his eye because he was wincing attempting some of the stretches during the class even though they were supposed to hurt, not unless he had a prior injury that it was pulling at. And if Dick wasn’t mistaken, he could see bruises peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirt. He might be in trouble.
So, when the class ended, he made his move. “Tim!” He called the kid’s name, remembering his name from when he came up to him and introduced himself at the beginning of the class, expressing how excited he was to be taught by one of the Flying Graysons. Dick had almost done a double take when he heard that name, one he hadn't heard in years . “Stay back a bit, alright? I want to talk to you about something.”
He saw Tim nod and when everyone was gone, the kid approached him. “Everything okay?”
“Tim, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were wincing during some of the stretches today.”
“Oh!” Tim laughed nervously. “I tripped while skating the other day so I’m a little sore.”
“Yeah?” Dick knew a bad lie when he heard one, and Tim sucked at lying; his eyes were flicking to different things, his hands were fidgeting and he refused to meet Dick’s eyes. “Tim, you don’t have to be afraid of telling me the truth. If someone’s hurting you at home, I can help you. I’m a social worker –”
“No, no!” Tim’s eyes widened. “It’s nothing like that, I swear!”
Dick was taken aback slightly, because now his words reeked of truth. Gone were the nervous ticks and now it was just desperation. “Tim, I can see bruises under your shirt…” Dick trailed off, his voice soft and worried.
“I –” Tim seemed to hesitate, as if weighing out whether or not he wanted to say what he was about to say. “I’m the new Robin… that’s – that’s where the bruises are from.”
“ What ?”
“Bruce – Batman, whatever, he was becoming super violent and unhinged after what happened to Jason and – and I thought I could stop him by being Robin… giving him something to protect and he was fine with it. But I’m still learning so that’s why I got hurt. I wanted to see you though, so I came here! You were the first! I saw you at Haly’s on that night, when you did the flip and – and you took a picture with me!” Tim explained earnestly.
“Oh, Tim .” Dick sighed, crouching down to look Tim in the eye. The younger squirmed at the sudden attention. “Buddy, you know being Robin isn’t all the glory it’s made out to be. You – if you know about Jason, then you know he got hurt as Robin, died as Robin.”
“But – Batman needs Robin.” Tim insisted.
“Batman needs a stern talking to, that’s what he needs.” Dick muttered darkly under his breath. “Are you staying at the manor?”
“When my parents aren’t home, yeah.” Tim nodded.
“How’d you get here then?”
“Bus!”
“Kiddo –” Dick’s eyes widened. “Come on, I’ll drive you back. I need to have a talk with Bruce anyways. And you can tell me all about how you got into this business.”
It took everything in Dick to keep from bursting into tears when he heard Tim talking enthusiastically about how he figured their identities out and how he’d been admiring them for so long because it reminded him of Jason’s ramblings about his favourite books and his rants about book-to-movie adaptations.
He pulled up in front of the manor and got out, locking his car after Tim go out as well. The door opened just on cue, Alfred standing there with a surprised look on his face upon seeing Dick. “Master Richard. Master Timothy.”
“Alfred. Hey.” Dick smiled gently as Tim waved. The older hugged Alfred. “Where’s B? I need to have a talk about bringing more children into this business.” He made sure to keep his voice low so Tim wouldn't hear.
“Master Bruce is in his study. Will you be staying for dinner?” Alfred asked.
“‘Fraid not, Alfie.” Dick shook his head. “I gotta get back to the city after I’m done here. But let me know when the old man’s away on a trip and I’ll make time to come back.”
“Of course, Master Richard.”
Dick took a deep breath and headed towards Bruce’s study, jaw clenched and his nails digging into the palms of his hands by his sides. He didn't even bother knocking, just opened the door and stepped in, eyes gleaming furiously. “Bruce.”
“Dick.” Bruce looked up from his papers, an impassive expression spread across his features. “What a lovely surprise to see you here.”
“Spare me the bullshit.” Dick scoffed. “You brought another kid into this business? After Jason, you decided to bring another kid into this shit? Do you never fucking learn?”
“He wanted to –”
“Do you, perhaps, lack the ability to say no ? Is that not in your fucking vocabulary?” Dick raged, slamming his hands down on Bruce’s desk. “I cannot believe you. I thought you would have learned this was no place for children after Jason died.”
“It’s none of your business, Dick.” Bruce waved him off.
“Oh, it’s none of my business.” Dick laughed coldly. “It’s none of my business, but you’re passing my name onto these kids and basically sending them off to their deaths, Bruce! When will you fucking learn?”
“It’s not your name anymore.”
“Fuck you, Bruce. It’ll always be my name because my mother gave it to me. To me . Not you. Fuck you. If you get another kid killed, I’m getting the League involved, I swear.”
“You wouldn't.”
“I would . I didn’t want to before, because what happens in Gotham stays in Gotham and I’m not too fond of a lot of people in the League. But there are a couple good ones, and if Tim dies, I don’t care about your identity anymore. I’ll call them in and let them deal with you.” Dick snarled before walking out of the office and slamming the door shut after him, chest heaving up and down as he tried to quell his rage.
When he made his way to the kitchen to say his goodbyes to Alfred, he was greeted with Tim. The young boy was sitting in a kitchen chair that looked too big for his small stature, a large mug of something hot clutched in both of his hands. “Dick!” He beamed.
“Tim. Hey.” Dick plastered a smile onto his face, covering up the anger and exhaustion he was sure coated his features before.
“Are you heading back?” Tim cocked his head to the side, reminding Dick an awful lot of an inquisitive bird.
“Yeah. I’ll come back next time B’s away on a trip though. And –” He hesitated. “And if you want to come see me, you’re more than welcome to. I’m here if you need someone to be a friend or to help with Robin stuff. I might be out of the business, but I refuse to let myself get rusty.”
“Really?” Tim’s eyes widened as he gasped.
“Really. Just – promise you won’t take the bus? Have Alfred drive you or text me. You got a phone, baby bird?” Tim fumbled with his pockets before he finally managed to get his phone out, unlock it and hand it over to Dick, who put his number into the contacts. “Don’t hesitate to use that, okay?”
“Okay.” Tim whispered.
“Stay sharp, Timmy.” Dick ruffled his hair before calling a goodbye to Alfred and walking out of the manor. He hoped Bruce would do better, he
prayed
he would.