Work Text:
If Tim Drake ever messes up, he does it spectacularly. Dick’s learned that over the last few months. He does almost everything well, almost always on the first try. He’s a sharp kid and a fast learner, and he does everything big. Like breaking into Dick’s apartment to meet him for the first time, like convincing Batman to train him to become Robin. And tonight, a plan so elaborate he didn’t consider the fact that the building they were storming was full of explosives.
It’s a hard mistake to make, but Dick couldn’t blame the kid. He’s new to this job, he’s nervous. Everyone makes mistakes, but the look on Bruce’s face was instantly recognisable. Dick knows Tim needs an encouraging word, Bruce wouldn’t be able to give that now. They catch the criminals and Dick pats Bruce on the back, telling him he’ll take care of everything and take him home. Tim’s hands tremble in Dick’s shitty, 1974 Dodge Dart Sport 360. It used to be a good car but he’s put it through so much it barely moves without faltering.
“You hungry?” Dick looks over at Tim, who’s fidgeting with his hands without rest. “I was thinking we could get some burgers, talk about whatever it is on your mind. You seem… A little off.”
“Yeah, okay,” Tim mumbles, still staring at his feet.
Dick pulls up to the drive thru window and orders for them. When they get to pick up their orders the guy there is dumbfounded at their masks and suits, which they forgot to remove. Gotham’s traffic is terrible, like usual, and Dick wishes he took the motorcycle. Anyone that looks into the car as they pass has wide eyes in shock. Dick waves at them with no acknowledgement. They eventually stop at an alleyway next to the Wayne Enterprises building and the two of them climb onto the roof.
December is an awfully cold month in New England, the type of cold that seeps into your bones under every layer of clothing, the sort of chill that stays with you when you curl under a blanket with the heating on. It’s much colder on the top of a skyscraper, but Tim doesn’t seem to care. He unwraps his burger and looks at it with an empty face, before taking a bite.
Dick doesn’t want to force him to talk about anything, so they sit and eat in silence for a while and watch the tiny cars pass under them. They’re off the clock— finally some time to relax. It’s close to five in the morning at that point, and the slow crawl of vehicles they see is just people heading to and from their jobs. Some people are walking on the wet sidewalks, the rain in New Jersey is persistent this time of the year. The streetlights shine their orange hue lightly in halos. Soon they will turn off again and the sun will rise over one of the darkest cities in the United States.
“Why do you have such a terrible car? Can’t you buy a new one?” Tim asks eventually. It’s not what they should talk about, but it’s progress.
“I dunno, sentimental reasons.” Dick shrugs. “I bought it at a junkyard for nothing and worked to restore it with my friends when I was like sixteen. It barely holds up anymore but I like driving it around. It’s gonna fall apart sooner or later and I’ll have to buy a new one, but as long as it works I’m gonna drive it. I don’t like being wasteful.”
“It sounds like it’s dying every time you turn on the engine.” Tim makes a face and Dick laughs.
“That’s dramatic. If I got it firsthand it would’ve been beautiful, I have a picture of it in a catalogue.”
“I really think you should get a new one,” Tim says through a mouthful of food.
“Good thing you’re the kid then, and you don’t make these decisions.” Dick flicks his shoulder. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s rude.”
He swallows. “Sorry.”
“You wanna talk about what happened?” Dick approaches the subject carefully. It’s hard to bring these kinds of things up. If he says something wrong Tim will spring his guard up and they won’t get anywhere.
“What, how I royally screwed up and Bruce is totally gonna force me to stop being Robin?” Tim asks with scrunched eyebrows.
“It wasn’t a royal screw up…”
“I blew up half a block.” Dick can’t see Tim’s eyes behind the mask, but he can imagine the ‘are you serious?’ eyebrow raise.
“Okay, you did screw up. So what?” He shrugs.
“What do you mean?”
“Who cares if you screwed up? No one got badly hurt, the buildings were all abandoned, and we got the guys. Your plan worked, you’re focusing on the wrong thing.”
“I can’t be making these kinds of mistakes! He’ll fire me!”
“He can’t. You wanna hear some of the dumb stuff I did as Robin? Show you it’s not that bad?”
“I guess…”
“Okay, let’s see.” Dick turns to Tim. “How about the time I got my whole team kidnapped by low level crooks? Because that happened. They couldn’t figure out how to send a message to the justice league, so we had to free ourselves. No one knew what happened until we got to the watchtower.”
Tim tries to hold back his laughter. “Really?”
“Yeah, I thought we should go after them when they threatened to kidnap us. We were all in that basement for five hours before we decided to go home. Or how about the time we were fighting Riddler and I proudly said–” Dick’s words are cut off by a bout of laughter as he remembers this story, “–the opposite of dominant is submissive, instead of recessive?” They’re both laughing now.
“No way.”
“Or the time I drowned in the Gotham sewers, or when I set fire to the batcave?” They laugh for another minute then his ribs hurt, and he takes a deep breath. “You’re not the first one to mess up on this job. You’re gonna make other mistakes, you’re probably gonna make bigger mistakes, too.”
“So how do I stop feeling bad about it?” Tim’s shoulders sag.
“Honestly? You never really do. You can’t be perfect. And from what I know of you, you’ll beat yourself up over it. But we stopped a group of child traffickers tonight thanks to your plan. Do you know what a huge deal that is? We helped a lot of families. You did a lot of good. So what if it didn’t go perfectly? Nothing is perfect. If it was, it wouldn’t be worth anything.”
“Wow. That’s… Really smart.”
“I’m very smart, Timbo.”
“You dropped out of college.”
“School doesn’t measure intelligence or wisdom, always remember that.” Dick finishes his fries and puts the empty packages aside. “College doesn’t work for everyone. I’m doing fine for myself so far.”
Then Dick asks Tim about school, which leads up to a whole other conversation about what’s the best subject and which one has the hardest tests. And then the kids at school, who according to Tim are all either assholes or boring. Dick recalls his own terrible experiences from school, and then the conversation takes a dip into the future and what Tim wants to do when he grows up. From there it becomes entirely hypothetical, and Dick can no longer keep track of when the subjects change or why. The air is still freezing cold, and time keeps moving and the day is about to start. Tim is talking about something he saw on TV, and he waves around the louder his voice gets.
The sun begins to rise over Gotham’s skyline. For once, the city is painted in white and gold. The water pooling in the sidewalk cracks and potholes on the road slowly starts to dry in the still icy December sun. For a moment it’s warm outside. Stores start opening all around them, people come out of their houses as the shadows crawl away. Dick has to be at work in two hours, the drive to Bludhaven takes half that time. Tim has to be at school: he has an exam and he hasn’t slept a wink. The world goes on after the night comes to an end. It’s easy to forget with a life like theirs.
“Batman can’t fire you, you know,” Dick says eventually.
“What do you mean? Didn’t he fire you?”
“He benched me, I quit. But he doesn’t get to take Robin away from you.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t give it to you.” Dick shrugs. “Robin isn’t his mantle, it’s not his legacy. It’s mine. And now it’s yours.” Dick takes a moment to mull over his words. “Just like Bruce, I was in a dark place when I created Robin. We went about it in different ways though. He decided to be dark enough that everything else goes to the light. Does that make sense?”
“Sort of.”
“When I created Robin I wanted it to mean the opposite. I wanted Robin to be this… beacon of light, that you just can’t hide from. I wanted Robin to bring hope to people.”
“Like Superman?”
Dick laughs at the thought. “Kinda like Superman, I guess. I just had a lot of anger and I wanted to do something good with it, to make up for all the pain I went through. I created Robin so I could do something good.” He sighs and watches the sun spill its light over everything in the city, minute by minute. “I don’t know if I did.”
“You did.” Tim looks in the same direction Dick does. Thirteen year old Tim Drake. A normal kid from a normal house he accidentally came across ten years ago. The nameless little boy who’s smiling in the last picture Dick has with his parents. He’s sitting right there next to him, wearing the same colours they wore as a family all those years ago. “D’you know our picture is my first memory?”
“Really? You never told me that.”
Tim shrugs. “Guess I forgot. Yeah. I think that’s part of why you’re my hero.”
“I’m your hero?”
“Of course.” How can he just say this? There are dozens of heroes who do a better, more important job than him. All Dick’s been doing for years is putting out fires in New York and Bludhaven, all he did before was be Batman’s sidekick. He’s not that important. Sometimes he wonders if he’s important at all, what kind of change has he even made so far? Barely a dent. But he’s someone’s hero, for some odd reason. And Tim says it like it’s natural, like Dick is everyone’s hero. Like he can be.
“You’re my hero,” Dick says.
“No I’m not, don’t lie to make me feel better.”
“No, no, you are. You’re smart, and talented. You figured out mine and Batman’s identities based on one trick my family knows how to do. If you weren’t such a good person you would be an amazing evil genius.”
Tim laughs. “You really think so?”
“I’m not a liar, Tim.” That’s a lie, of course. Their job requires lying, and Dick does it more than he has to often. But he doesn’t lie to Tim. When they met he made up his mind, almost subconsciously, to be as truthful with him as possible. Not only is Tim a crazy good detective, he’s just a kid. A kid who looks up to Dick. If he disappointed Tim, betrayed his trust in any way, he could never live with himself. He’s a filthy liar in any other situation but Tim deserves better than that; he deserves a brother he can trust. “You’re a good kid. You do good work, you’re brave.”
“You know why I’m doing this.”
“Which makes you even better. You have no stake in this.”
“We all do. I think you know that too.” Tim’s eyes darken as he looks out to the city, and Dick has to admit he has a point. Tim took a thankless job to save Batman and countless other people. He did it because no one else would, because unlike any other citizen in Gotham City, he recognised something was wrong and decided to do something to change it.
“Fine, but you didn’t have to do it. You chose to. I think that’s amazing.”
They sit there in silence for a few more minutes. Tim swings his legs, which dangle off the edge of the building. Dick takes a deep breath of the never-fresh air, so cold his nose stings. One last moment of peace before life continues in its chaos and whirlwinds.
“Let me drive you home. Don’t you have school later?”
“Right, we should go.” Tim gathers the wrappings of their meals from around them and gets up, brushing his cape off. Dick gets up with a light grown at the popping sound his knees make, and Tim laughs.
“Shut up, I’m hypermobile. It comes with it.”
“Whatever you say old man.”
“Hey! I’m very young!”
They climb back down the building and find Dick’s old car, right where they left it. The drive back is still silent, Dick’s got too much to think about to talk and he imagines Tim is going through the same thing. The traffic is absolutely terrible, and Dick tries his hardest not to release a string of curses that would put a sailor in shock every time someone passes them in the lane. They make it to Tim’s house with no harm done, and Dick waits for him to unbuckle his seatbelt and leave, but Tim just sits there.
“Did you really mean it when you said I’m your hero?” He asks quietly. “Tell me the truth.”
“Of course I did,” Dick says, matching his tone. “If people in your life knew the truth about you, I think you’d be everyone’s hero.”
“Thanks,” Tim smiles shyly. “And thanks for giving me a ride.”
“Oh it’s no problem,” Dick brushes it off. “It’s on my way out anyway.” They both know that’s wrong, but Dick doesn’t mind taking the long route to help Tim get home before his parents wake up.
Tim finally gets out of the car and waves goodbye. Dick stays and watches to make sure he’s okay as he sneaks back into the house through the window. Once he’s gone Dick stays in that parked car for another minute or two, seemingly unable to move.
He starts the car again and drives further away, to a mostly empty part of the city. He quickly changes back into his civilian clothes in an alleyway, after making sure he can’t be watched. The drive back to Bludhaven is going to be long with the morning traffic.