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Tim groans, digging the meat of his palms into his eyes. He had been trying to shut his brain off so he could sleep for the past 4 hours to no avail. He can feel the frustration in his chest growing as he glares at the clock on his nightstand. 2:56 flips over to 2:57 and he can’t stop his hand from shooting out and smacking the clock onto the floor. He winces as it skitters across the floor, before it crashes into his wall. He sits up, glad Bruce and Dick would only just now be wrapping up in Gotham. He should also be out for the night, but Bruce had told him to stay home and work on the homework that he was probably behind on after getting to spend the week with his parents.
Tim didn’t tell Bruce he had had plenty of time after they left Wednesday morning. They had gotten a call about a potential dig in Jordan, and had said that surely Tim understood, besides he had the Wayne’s if he needed anything. He had spent the remainder of the week canceling reservations and trying to drown himself in whatever case work he could manage without tipping off one of his family members that he was not hanging out with his parents like he was supposed to be.
So now here he is, miserable, awake, and not doing anything productive for the past four hours. He knows it’s his own fault, he had been too anxious to bring his meds with him back home. He knew it’d mess up his sleep schedule, it’s what always goes first when he misses his daily dose of whatever cocktail they have him on. He was just afraid his parents wouldn’t understand why he started taking it, and that his dad might get upset with Bruce for ‘poisoning’ his son, or something equally as stupid. There was never any telling with his parents. Plus, if he came back to the manor and got them after his parents left, then someone would know and he wouldn't have the time to wallow before having to be a person again.
Tim pushes himself out of bed and grabs Dick’s Bludhaven Gymnastics sweatshirt from his desk chair, completely bypassing the downed alarm clock on the floor. He would start taking his meds again soon, but this was getting ridiculous. If he wanted a chance of being allowed to patrol tomorrow he needed to get some sleep and it takes a while for any mood stabilizer to get into anyone’s system. He didn’t really want to cheat, but his mom had told him growing up that sometimes, if he was too much, he should take care of it himself. He pulls on the sweatshirt and makes his way downstairs, making a quick pit stop at the medicine cabinet, before heading into the kitchen.
He shudders at the cold as he opens the freezer, grabbing the vanilla ice cream. He then moves down to the fridge, pulling out the milk. He makes sure both doors seal shut, then grabs a fork and a glass from the cabinet. He’s measuring out the Nyquil when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He startles, spilling a bit on the counter, before turning around to see Jason with an annoyed expression and absolutely awful bed head.
Tim has to bite his lip to keep from grinning at Jason’s obvious disgruntlement. He looks like a stray cat that just woke up from a nap in a drain pipe.
Jason had been manor bound for the past week after crashing his motorcycle in the Cave and bruising his ribs. He had been trying to show Tim a new trick he’d learned recently, but had grossly underestimated the amount of room he’d have. Bruce had not been amused, but Tim and Dick had laughed so hard that Alfred had kicked them both out of the Cave after they made sure Jason would be okay.
“What the fuck are you doing up?” Jason asks, voice rough from sleep. He leans against the door frame as he eyes the ingredients on the counter, “Little late for a midnight snack. What are you making?”
“I needed a milkshake,” Tim says looking down at what he’s doing. The air in the kitchen quickly turns awkward so he tacks on, “It’s my mom’s recipe.”
Jason blinks at him, then stares at the ice cream, Nyquil, and milk out on the counter. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, not unlike a fish. “Okay Timbit, you’re gonna have to walk me through this one, cause either I have a concussion we all missed or somethings fucked.”
“What do you mean?” Tim asks, confusion clear in his voice, even to himself, “I’m just making a milkshake?”
Jason groans, whipping his hands over his face, “With Nyquil?”
“Yeah,” Tim nods at it, unsure what Jason’s getting at, “It’s like the main ingredient? Well, besides, like, milk and ice cream.”
“It is too early for this shit.” Jason snaps, before taking a deep breath.
After a few seconds of Tim awkwardly watching Jason do breathing exercises, Jason stalks forward and swipes the little cup of Nyquil Tim just poured into the sink. Tim lets out an indignant noise as Jason then grabs the bottle, before turning around, stalking away with it and yelling, “Put the ice cream back in the freezer, I’m getting an adult.”
“You’re an adult?” Tim tells the empty room, though he isn’t sure why. He feels a little uneasy, unsure why Jason is acting so weird. But he shrugs, puts back the icecream and milk, and wonders what got Jason so upset. Maybe it’s that Tim’s awake? He knows no one would be happy with his current sleep schedule, but that didn’t explain why Jason wouldn’t let him deal with it.
Tim sighs and sits down at the island, resting his head on the granite. Things were so much more complicated now. He wouldn’t change anything for the world, but things used to be so much easier when no one was always checking on him. He listens as he waits and eventually he hears several sets of footsteps on their way to the kitchen. It sounds like Jason is probably leading the charge with Bruce right behind him. Alfred and Dick seem to be hanging back a bit more.
God, this feels like overkill.
He can hear them all crowding around the door, and feels their stares on the back of his neck as they start whispering.
“Did that fucker fall asleep?” Jason hisses.
“Language, Master Jason.” Alfred chastises.
“Sorry Alf,” Jason responds, though he doesn’t sound too remorseful.
“He probably needs it,” Dick remarks, and Bruce grunts back in affirmation.
Now, Tim isn’t above just laying here and letting them think he fell asleep, but then he will be one bottle short of fixing his whole problem, and the idea of going back to his room to be alone with his thoughts sounds miserable. He forces his head up and mumbles, “I’m awake.”
“You better be,” Jason says, walking into the kitchen and placing the bottle of Nyquil in front of Tim. “Care to tell Bruce what you told me?”
Tim quirks an eyebrow, “Jason, I was literally just making a milkshake.”
“With Nyquil?” Dick asks, coming to lean on the island with his brothers.
Tim looks around at them, but all of their faces are infuriatingly neutral. “Yes? How else do you make them?”
“Well preferably,” Jason says, venom dripping into his voice, “Without drugging yourself.”
Tim startles in his seat, realizing that of course Jason would have an issue with this. How could he forget about the rumors Gotham High Society would say about the man’s mother and how she died. Tim wouldn’t normally give credit to rumors, but Jason refused any pain meds if he could help it. Tim had also hacked his file on the Bat Computer several times.
“Jason,” Bruce says, stepping over and putting his hand on Jason’s shoulder, “Do you need a minute?”
Jason looks like the only thing he wants to do is bite Bruce’s head off, but he stands up straight and stomps out of the kitchen. Alfred follows behind him with a promise to check in with him and make sure he’s doing okay.
Tim looks down at the counter, refusing to make eye contact with either Bruce or Dick. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I forgot Jason wouldn’t really like seeing me do this. I didn’t mean to upset him.”
He can feel both of them staring at him, trying to figure out how to tag team the problem that is Tim. As the silence around him grows, he risks looking up at Bruce who took Jason’s spot in front of him. Bruce is staring at Tim like he’s a particularly vexing case and it’s making his skin crawl.
“Tim,” Dick starts, and Tim really just wants to scream with how gentle he sounds, like he’s afraid Tim might spook or something, “Can you explain what you were doing?”
Tim is starting to grow annoyed, he can’t help how sharp his words sound, “As I’ve said, I am literally just trying to make a milkshake. I am having issues sleeping and I thought it’d help. Don’t you all want me to have a better sleep schedule?” Dick glances over at Bruce, and Tim has realized he has misstepped somewhere in this interaction, but he isn’t sure where.
“What?” Tim asks, trying to not sound as frustrated as he feels.
“It’s just,” Dick says, voice as calm as ever, “Typically milkshakes don’t have cough syrup in them."
Now it’s Tim’s turn to be confused. His mom has always made them this way, any time he was having issues staying in bed, or wouldn’t go down for a nap. His confusion must show on his face because Bruce and Dick share another glance.
“Buddy, why would you think they do?”
Tim can feel his face heat up at his now apparent faux pas. He puts his elbow on the counter and rests his head in his hands before speaking, “This is one of those things isn’t it?” He asks, but continues going before either of them have a chance to answer, “Something my parents did that was fucked up and not actually how the world works, and now you guys are going to be weird about it.”
At the same time Dick says, “Yes.” Bruce says “Maybe.” and Tim can’t help but snort.
“Oh my god, this explains why he never wants a milkshake during patrol,” Tim opens his eyes at the same time Jason and Alfred walk back into the kitchen.
Dick’s eyes widened, “Oh my god that makes so much more sense, you must’ve thought we were crazy or something.”
Tim makes the ‘kinda-sorta’ motion with his hand before Alfred starts talking.
“How preposterous, thinking a family of people who fight crime in animal costumes would be anything less than sane.” Alfred says with his usually dry inflection, “Since we are all awake, I will prepare some tea to help soothe everyone’s nerves. Any opposition?”
No one protests and Alfred gets to work. They all stay in silence for a few minutes, letting the noises of Alfred puttering around the kitchen, pulling down mugs, and collecting everyone’s favorite types of tea.
Jason slumps against Dick, obviously still upset, and Tim can’t help but wince. He really didn’t mean to upset Jason.
Bruce looks as perplexed as he ever looks, looking between his three sons gathered here. “Alright,” he starts, eyes landing on Tim, “We do need to talk about this.”
“Yeah,” Tim says glumly, “I figured.”
“No one’s mad,” Bruce says, but Tim snorts in disbelief, causing him to get that constipated look he gets when he realizes he’s going to have to talk about feelings. “I mean it Tim, no one is mad. Jason was upset, yes, but that’s because he’s worried about you.”
Tim glances over at Jason, who nods decisively. “If I was mad you’d know it, Timolina. I’m a little peeved you woke me up by throwing your alarm clock, but that’s about it.”
“Wait, how do you know about that?” Tim asks.
Jason snorts, “Yeah, right, I’m a paranoid vigilante, of course I don’t go check out every loud noise at 3 am. Just not who I am.”
Tim resists the urge to flip him off, knowing that Alfred would probably somehow notice, even if his back was towards the little gathering at the island.
“Do I need to buy you another alarm clock?” Bruce asks, in a true Bruce fashion.
“You definitely do, he decimated that thing.” Jason says.
Tim just shrugs, suddenly feeling embarrassed about the whole thing.
Bruce grunts, pulling out his phone, probably to remind him to buy Tim a clock, before he closes it and puts it face down on the counter. Alfred comes by as Bruce is doing this, putting tea in front of everyone.
“Now, I do believe you three have this situation covered, but do not be afraid to come get me if the need arises. Some of us do have to sleep eventually.” Alfred says, carrying his own mug out of the kitchen as he heads to his room to retire.
Another moment of silence passes as they all sip their tea, which was, of course, expertly prepared. Tim sits there, sipping his tea, and thinking. He just doesn’t want anyone to be disappointed in him for this. What if this is the final straw? What if he has finally crossed the line from vaguely entertaining, to completely annoying?
“Bruce say something,” Dick says, reaching over to slap Bruce’s arm.
“I’m thinking, didn’t you tell me to gather my thoughts before I say anything stupid?”
“Yeah, but you can’t take an eon to figure it out. That makes things worse. Chop chop B man, time is of the essence.”
Both Jason and Tim are grinning as Bruce looks up towards the ceiling and says, “Have kids, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”
“Shut up old man,” Jason chuckles, bumping him with his arm, “You love us.”
“Yes I do, all of you.” Bruce says, making sure to make eye contact with all three of them. “Now, Tim. I just– I want to make sure you are safe. If you’re not sleeping, come talk to someone. Please don’t try to self medicate, there are interactions between any of the medications you’re on and Nyquil that could be dangerous. It could also mean something is wrong with your meds, or maybe you need a new prescription, or any number of other things could be wrong. Do we need to schedule an appointment with your psych?”
Tim makes a face and looks back down to the counter. He might as well just get it over with, “Okay so, look. My meds were working fine–”
“Why did you say ‘were’ like you’re not still on them?” Jason asks, interrupting Tim.
Tim glares at Jason, “You’re just going to keep doing this aren’t you? If you give me a second I am actively explaining what’s going on.”
“Fine, fine,” Jason concedes, raising his hands up, not unlike he did in the tower.
Tim rolls his eyes, “As I was saying, I left them here when I went to visit with my parents. I didn’t know what they’d say and I didn’t really want to deal with that when I don’t get to see them that often. It didn’t really matter though, they left Wednesday morning after promising to stay till at least Friday.”
“And you didn’t come home because?” Dick asks.
“I didn’t want to deal with it.” He mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.
Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, “Okay so first off, you cannot keep going off your medicine like this. You are very lucky you didn’t go into a full blown manic episode. You know lack of sleep can be a trigger for those and you have to be careful. Secondly, Tim, if you need space you have to talk to us.”
“Having to talk to people is the exact opposite of getting space from people.” Tim says, knowing he’s being contrary. Bruce does too, raising an eyebrow, and Tim raises his hands up in surrender.
“I know I am not one to talk when it comes to communicating my feelings,” Bruce says, every word sounding carefully chosen, “However, I need to trust that you’ll find someone when you need help Tim.”
Tim wrinkles his nose. He’s not used to asking for help, and he doesn’t want to. He knows he needs to, he gets why Bruce is saying this, he does! Really! But, it’s not that easy. Bruce sighs and claps a hand onto his shoulder, “We can work on it, but we will be working on it.”
Tim nods, knowing he’s lost this battle. Bruce squeezes his shoulder before letting go.
He looks around and sees Jason practically asleep against Dick’s shoulder. Dick seems to be taking this in stride, and smiles at Tim when he notices him looking. “Wanna watch a movie? I know when I can’t sleep, staring at the ceiling just makes it worse.”
Tim shrugs, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He knows everyone is exhausted, and here he is keeping them all up.
“Tim if you don’t stop thinking so loud I’ll…” Jason trails off from his threat as he forces himself up, blinking heavily. “Media room. Now.”
Jason wraps an arm around Dick, who easily wraps an arm around him back to help guide him to the media room. Bruce has a fond smile on his face as he watches them go, and Tim can feel his fingers itch for his camera up in his room. Bruce turns to look at Tim, same smile on his face, as he gestures for Tim to follow.
Tim does, wrapping his mug of tea in his hands, making his way after his brothers. Bruce places his hand on Tim’s shoulder again, and Tim can’t help but lean into the man as they make their way down the hallway.
A few hours later, Alfred finds them all curled up on the couch. Bruce is in the middle, arm slung around the back of the couch. Tim is curled up beside him, back to Bruce’s side, Dick is on Bruce’s otherside, head cushioned against Bruce’s shoulder. Jason lays with his feet across all three of them against the armrest of the couch. A documentary about jellyfish plays on the screen, and Alfred can’t fight his gentle smile at seeing his boys all comfortable. In this moment, he is very thankful Bruce insisted he got a phone with a decent camera.