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Tim liked listening to Dick sing in the shower, just like he liked the sound of running water and calm city nights. Every time he heard it he’d close his eyes and let it wash over him, it was like meditating but less stressful than trying to be still and quiet and introspective.
Pleasant sounds were pleasant, that’s all. He tried not to feel like a creep, but he supposed he abandoned normalcy when he started following Batman and Robin at night anyhow. This wasn’t any less creepy than eavesdropping on their conversations and taking pictures of them without their knowledge. He told himself it was just because he liked the action shots, but the sheer amount of hair ruffles and late night snacks he’s captured tell a different story.
Tim was an observer, creepy or not, he didn’t exactly have an off button, and it wasn’t like anyone knew. Besides, how else was he supposed to relax?
So when he couldn’t hear Dick humming as clearly as usual, he opened his door and laid down in the doorway. He rested his head in his arms, closed his eyes, and let the running water and mellifluous singing finally turn off his always-working brain.
—
Dick liked to sing in the shower, not songs, but more to his own tune. There were never words, just vowels, and it made an otherwise draining task more relaxing. If he distracted himself, his thoughts couldn’t linger on how ugly his scars looked on his skin when he noticed them.
Sure, he was proud of his battle scars, but sometimes he couldn’t help comparing his smooth tan skin to the thin white skin that covered his scars and wonder.
If his parents didn’t die, he wouldn’t have these scars.
He shook the thought away, he felt guilty mourning the life he could’ve had now, after everyone he’s saved. If he’d never joined Bruce on his whole crusade against crime, what would’ve happened to all the victims he’s helped? What about all the people that would’ve died without him?
So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to wish he never became a vigilante, but at the same time, did that mean he didn’t wish his parents had never died?
No, he still mourned the life he could’ve had. He wished his mother could brush his hair and sing to him again, he wished he could’ve had his father’s advice growing up. But he found himself wondering, if he was given the choice between his current life and his parents, which would he choose? And then came the mortifying realization that it was no longer an easy question to ask himself.
Of course he’d choose his parents. Why wouldn’t he?
And maybe if he never created Robin Jason would still be alive. He would’ve never been targeted by the Joker, he would’ve never been in danger, Bruce could’ve protected him better.
If he was still just his mother’s robin maybe Jason could’ve had a chance to live a normal life and go to college like he always wanted to. He’d still be reading Jane Austen books in ill-fitting dust jackets and pretending he was just really into Harry Potter.
Singing helped, it washed away all the useless ‘what if’s and ‘coulda been’s. It helped him release the tension and pain and grief in his heart. He could just be.
After standing under the warm water to collect himself, he shut off the shower, dried himself off, and did his hair routine which took a decent amount of time and concentration.
He got dressed in his pajamas and checked his phone.
Dick: dinner ready yet???
B-man: patience is a virtue
Dick: im taking that as a no
When he finally left his room, he found Tim asleep in his doorway.
He crouched and tapped him on the cheek. Tim scrunched his nose and made a sleepy groan.
“Hey bud, whatcha doin down here.”
“Listening.”
“To what?”
“Singing.”
Dick put two and two together, Tim was listening to him sing in the shower and fell asleep. Dick barely stopped himself from pinching his cheeks and settled for squishing his face around instead, to which Tims face scrunched in confusion.
“What’d you do that for?” He asked, significantly more awake.
“C’mon, up, lets go downstairs,” Dick said as he grabbed Tim’s elbow and helped him stand up, Tim grumbling all the way and rubbing the crusties out of his eyes. It was times like this that Tim reminded him painfully of Jason. His heart clenched in his chest.
Replacing me already? He heard Jason’s voice in his head, and he was sure if he looked around he’d see him lurking in a corner somewhere staring judgmentally.
Dick wrapped his arms firmly around Tim’s shoulders and ruffled his hair. He wasn’t replacing Jason, Tim was his own person. Tim would know he was loved before it was too late to love him. Before Dick missed his funeral. Before he was in a grave.
Never mind that sometimes he’d call out Jason’s name when he saw Tim in danger, or that sometimes he’d mistake Tim for another hallucination of Jason. Tim is Tim, Jason was Jason.
You know it’s just your pathetic guilt complex, just admit it—
“You okay?” Tim cut not-jason off.
“Yeah, fine, why?”
Tim shrugged and took Dicks arm off his shoulder. Which Dick tried not to be offended by before Tim fucking bit him.
“Ah! What the fuck Tim?”
“My bad.” As if he didn’t just make the conscious decision to bite him.
“You bit me!” To which Tim bit him again and ran off cackling. Dick, of course, ran after him and tackled him as soon as they got downstairs before tickling the life out of him.
Tim cried for mercy in between fits of laughter, but Dick was determined.
“Are you gonna bite me again?” Dick asked letting up on the torture so Tim could answer and starting back up when Tim looked away and refused to respond.
“AH! I’m sorry! I give, I give!”
“Boys.” Both of their heads snapped up to meet Alfred’s gaze, painfully endeared despite the ever present mask of professionalism that Dick has long since learned how to see through.
“I assume you two caused all the racket?”
“Sorry Alf, but he bit me, I had to defend my honor.”
“Master Dick, I assure you a little nip is no threat to your honor, now, dinner is nearly ready, come sit.”
”Last I checked there was a no biting rule in this house.”
”Ah, well, ask Master Tim where it went, I’m sure he’ll be happy to answer.”
Dick looked curiously at Tim, but he just looked away, so Dick poked his squishy cheek and left it at that. He helped Tim get up as he got up and brushed himself off, trying to ignore the ghost of Jason lurking in the corner and the way jealousy twisted his features.
”Dick.” Tim tugged on his arm, shit, was he staring? He looked back at the corner. It was empty. Always empty.