Work Text:
Tims hair had gotten long. Last week he had been running a drug bust, the ring leader should’ve been easy to take down, all he did was sit around and orchestrate; he had never once worked a Job. Tim knew this, he’d been stalking the guy for weeks. And yet the asshole managed to land a hit on Red Robin, Batman's apprentice, the Demon Head’s favorite bird. Tim was blind as a bat with his hair the way it was.
Back at the nest Tim had found his way to the bathroom to deal with his hair. A slob of a vigilante stared at him in the mirror, god he was a mess. He hadn’t given his reflection a good look in months. His hair was longer than it had ever been, it was beginning to curl where his neck met his torso and his bangs fell just above the tip of his nose. Covering up the dark circles that had taken up residence underneath his eyes. He tried to brush his hair off his forehead with his fingers but all they found was a matted mess of knots.
What would his mother think?
He initially wanted to buzz it right off but Tim hated the thought of the press finding out. He could see the headline right now. ‘Timothy Drake, previous CEO of Wayne Enterprises, finally resurfaces looking like a bat out of hell’. He did not feel like dealing with that flavor of shit storm right now. His birdarang’s would make very effective hair shears but it would lack precision, even though that didn’t impact Red Robin it sure as hell would impact Drake when he finally decided to reappear.
Putting it up was the only feasible option but that was proving to be difficult. Just carding his hands through his hair hurt like a bitch, he couldn’t remember the last time he brushed it. The bathroom counter didn’t provide many options, He needed a whole lot more than a comb and some expired child detangler he’d snagged from a case to deal with this mess.
---------
Tim had finally braved the daylight but was coming up empty in his search. The seven eleven by the nest didn’t seem to carry anything soap adjacent and the chevron down the street wasn’t much better. Tim would have to brave the grocery store and the people who would see him there. He’d need a hat and sunglasses, maybe he’d buy a whole new secret identity while he was at it. Tim rarely envied Jason but what he wouldn’t give to be publicly dead right now.
When Tim brought Bruce back from the time stream he found himself directionless. YJ was mostly disbanded and he couldn’t go all the way back to the bats, not after the way he left. With nowhere else to go, slipped back into the shadows from whence he came. He stepped down from his position in WE and stopped working with the bats unless they really needed him. Occasionally Oracle would call him and beg him to do some case work but he didn’t mind, it kept him busy, made him feel; Needed.
What Tim needed was some fucking shampoo and maybe another cup of coffee. Instead he found 3-in-1, redbull, and a pair of scissors but it would do.
He kept his head on a swivel on the way back from the shopRite, it was hard to break old habits and he was further from the nest in the day than he had been in months.
The city looked so different in the sun, despite the relentless heat the city appeared almost livable. He could nearly see himself walking down the street and sitting at one of the cafes, burning his legs on the metal chairs. Tim tried to remember what this part of the city had been like when he was younger but he was drawing a blank. He was sure he’d gone down here on the bus with his camera but it had been so much darker back then. Very little of the city looked like it had years ago. A freshly minted Jason Todd as Robin protecting the city alongside the dark knight. Now, Jason could rarely be found on the roof tops, running a gang in Gotham isn't exactly known for its opportunity to run around in tights saving civilians.
Finally the apartment building that housed the nest came into view and Tim almost ascended. The promise of a real shower and a haircut made him dizzy with relief.
The door to the nest glowed like a health pack. The moment he was through it he stripped out of his T-shirt and sweats and made a beeline for the shower. He didn’t wait for the water to warm up before dropping the grocery bag and throwing himself into the shower. He squeezed his eyes shut as the cold water forced everything out of his mind. His muscles tightened on instinct before he forced them to relax into the water pressure.
He reached for the plastic bag with his salvation (3-and-1) and pulled out the soap bottle. He flicked the cap open and squeezed some into his hand smelling it, green apple. Not exactly the expensive shit his parents used to order for him once in a while but, he couldn’t afford to be picky.
He rubbed his hands together until he could see the suds through his finger and then tried to scrub it into his hair. The knots caught on his nails and clumps of hair found their way onto the shower floor sticking in the drain. Even then he couldn’t pull his fingers through his hair. He yanked and pulled and only found more hair. What was the point of trying to wash his hair if it was all gone by the time he managed to get himself clean.
Tim’s breath quickened and his hands shook against his head, he wanted to vomit. He was hopelessly disgusting, it was a good thing he hadn’t seen anyone during the day in ages he couldn’t believe anyone would be able to stand the sight. He needed more than a shower, an acid bath would do the trick. Maybe he should call up the joker. He almost laughed at the idea of crawling back to that manufactured comfort. There had been so much blood and yet he was held during those two months more than he had even been.
His chest squeezed as he struggled to bring air, choking on the freezing water beating down on him. He only managed to turn off the water by accident, looking for something to hold on to he grabbed the handle and it turned under his weight. He slipped, groping the air for a second before unceremoniously landing on his ass and hitting his head on the tiled wall.
God, he was so dumb, not only was he letting 50 year old drug lords land punches he couldn’t even wash his damned hair with out losing his shit. He slowly stood up in an attempt to gather himself but his heart was still shouting in his ears. He wondered if this was what dying felt like.
Stepping out of the shower he dully realized that in his excitement he’d forgotten a towel. The hard wood was cold against his feet as he moved through the apartment like a ghost. His bedroom welcomed him with open arms and he fell blissfully into his bed, he was going to slip till he was forty. Tim eventually got up long enough to pull on some pjs and turn on some bad tv but he didn’t make it half an episode before he was asleep again.
-----------------------