Work Text:
The computer screen lit up the otherwise dark room. The monotonous sound of typing echoed in the Batcave as Tim updated the patrol report. He blinked, glancing at the time: 2:30 am. Tim could’ve sworn it just past 1 last time he checked. Had he accidentally fallen asleep? Tim considered making a cup of coffee but exhaustion made his limbs feel heavy and his eyelids droop. Besides, the chair was too comfy. Tim didn't want to move. His life as Tim Drake and Robin left little time for sleep. During the day, he focused on schoolwork; at night, he was a vigilante. Something had to give. He rubbed his eyes, fighting to stay awake. Tim needed to make himself useful after tonight’s patrol. Tim’s lack of sleep made him clumsy in the field. He reacted too slowly and left with bruises—both physical and to his ego. If he couldn’t be Robin, what was left for him? Bruce would fire him and he would lose everything.
Tim enjoyed the freedom that came with being Robin. Normally, freedom felt lonely. His parents often left on trips, leaving Tim alone in an empty house that too often felt like a mausoleum. The silence of the Drake estate was suffocating. But being Robin was different. For once, freedom felt…well, freeing. If losing sleep meant he could be a better Robin, then so be it. He was more than willing to make that sacrifice. Tim couldn’t lose Robin and neither could Bruce.
He shivered despite the Bludhaven police hoodie that engulfed his figure. God how he hated the chilly air of the Batcave, but it staved off his tiredness. Soon, Tim got lost in the comforting click-clack of the keyboard.
---
A hand on his shoulder startled him. It was Bruce. Tim met Bruce’s stern countenance with a sheepish smile.
“Tim,” Bruce chided, “you should get some sleep.” Bruce peered at Tim’s face,—no doubt inspecting the dark bags under Tim’s eyes—furrowing his eyebrows in concern.
“Just give me five more minutes.”
“Tim”
Mustering up his best puppy-dog eyes,—a trick he had seen Dick do before—Tim swiveled the chair around to face him. Bruce sighed. Tim fought back a smile. He won. Except—
Bruce leaned past Tim, and with a click, the bat computer was shut off. Tim frowned.
“It’s getting late. And—” Bruce ruffled his hair, “—you need to get some sleep.” Tim groaned, hoping his protests would dissuade Bruce’s attempts to herd him to bed. Tim was unsuccessful. Begrudgingly, Tim stood and made his way upstairs. Bruce followed him with a steadying hand on his back. Chasing the urge to sleep, Tim leaned into the touch and let his head fall against Bruce’s chest.
---
Tim opened his eyes to the sound of his bedroom door creaking open. Bruce ushered him to bed. After a quick kiss on the forehead, he left. Tim tossed and turned to no avail. He counted sheep. He turned his pillow over to the cold side. He rearranged the blanket. Despite his grogginess, sleep evaded him. Tim sat up and eyed his laptop with a mischievous glint. He slowly opened his laptop and was bathed in the screen's bright light. Tim hurriedly turned down the brightness for worry of alerting Bruce. Resuming his work, Tim squinted at the screen as his eyes adjusted.
The soft click of the door made Tim’s head snap up. There was Bruce. Oops. Standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, Bruce raised his eyebrow.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Tim defended himself, “I might as well be productive.” The mattress dipped as Bruce sat down. Tim cradled his laptop protectively.
“I need Robin to be alert during patrol. You can’t do that if you’re sleep-deprived.”
Bruce doubted his abilities. Bruce didn’t think Tim was suited to be Robin. All of Tim’s insecurities buzzed in his brain like static. It trickled down his throat, suffocating him. It wound its way around his heart like a snake, a weight not even Atlas could lift. Tim couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t breathe—
“I am trying,” Tim choked out as tears prickled his eyes. Tim did nothing but try to improve, try to be a better Robin, but how could he live up to Dick and Jason? Dick grew up in the circus and learned acrobatics. Jason was toughened by growing up in Crime Alley. Tim grew up with a posh and comfortable life. What skills did he possess that could translate to Robin? He had to start from scratch. He had to work twice as hard even to have the chance to be on the same level as the Robins before him. Why couldn’t Bruce see that? He tried so hard to live up to Bruce’s expectations and fell short every time.
Maybe things hadn’t changed that much after all. It was like he never left the Drake estate. He still felt like the young child who made himself low maintenance in the hope of validation from Janet and Jack. The same child who plastered a saccharine smile at the galas his parents dragged him to. The same child that waved his photographs in front of his parent’s eyes, but never had his work hung on the fridge.
Tim’s throat tightened, but his thoughts tore out of it nonetheless, the dam had broken and Tim couldn’t stop the flood “I’m not them. I can’t be Dick or Jason. I’m sorry.”
Bruce opened his mouth and closed it, letting the words carefully form before voicing them.
“That’s okay,” his expression softened, and he gently tugged the laptop away from Tim’s trembling hands. “I don’t expect that of you, Tim.”
“I don’t understand. I’m not as good as them. I failed you. I’m useless.”
“You don’t need to be them. Each Robin is different.” Bruce put his hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You’ve helped me more than you know. What I need from you now is to help yourself. Try and get some sleep, chum.” Tim nodded, still reeling. The tightness in his chest lessened. Tim could breathe a little easier. Bruce squeezed his shoulder and tucked him in, but before he could leave, Tim tugged his sleeve.
“I’ll be right back,” Bruce promised.
Bruce returned with a mug of warm chamomile tea and a leather-bound copy of *The Hobbit*. Tim scooted over to make space for Bruce and gratefully accepted the tea. The warmth of the mug grounded him and soothed his throat. Bruce settled next to Tim and flipped the book to the first page. He began reading.
Bruce’s voice lulled him to sleep. Tim curled up on Bruce’s side, head resting on his chest. For once, Tim knew everything would be okay.