Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Now, Tim would normally say he’s a pretty chill guy. In fact, he believes himself to be the least chaotic of the Bats (Excluding Cass. Any chaos that happened around her was simply not her fault, no exceptions). They certainly were not the first people that came to mind when Tim thought about relaxing in any capacity.

Damian was raised in a murder cult that worshiped pools of forbidden mountain dew and had tried to kill him on numerous occasions. The boy had yeeted Tim off the cave’s dinosaur for pete’s sake. Damian had also taken it upon himself to adopt every animal that moved, including but not limited to a demon bat and a cow. The dichotomy of the demon brat’s actions gave Tim whiplash if he thought about it too hard.

Jason was a crime lord who had a penchant for murder and was tragically a forever theater kid. When he’d come to kill Tim, (which, by the way, RUDE) he’d written ‘Jason Todd was here’ across the wall in Tim’s blood. Tim could make out the words in a blacked out Titan’s Tower because Jason’s forbidden mountain dew eyes (see why Damian was not chill) acted like literal glow sticks.

Dick by all accounts seemed to any outsider as the loving, calming eldest child of Brucie Wayne. Those outsiders would be wrong. Richard Grayson may be a loving older brother, but that love did not negate the storm of chaos that seemed to hover above his head most days. 

The man loved swinging on the chandeliers and any mission he went on often ended in a rather ridiculous injury, whether it be his own or some Goons. Dick could walk into a room and end up trying to crawl across the ceiling, and brought down a few ceilings with him at times. Seriously, Tim should probably call Constantine to check if Dick had been cursed with the amount of trouble that always seemed to find him.

Steph was just Steph. There was no explanation for what she was. The first words she’d said to him were “EAT SHIT” as she flung a brick at his head. Honestly, Tim could see her being Klarion in disguise. Both lived to create as much chaos as possible.

Tim shuddered at the thought of the two of them meeting. It might actually be the end of the world. Nothing would survive the chaos they’d incite, themselves included.

Tim didn’t really think Bruce had any room to call Tim chaotic. Bruce was a middle-aged billionaire that spent his nights cosplaying an oversized bat to punch people. Nothing Tim could do would ever live up to that level of cringe, literally nothing. Brucie Wayne made it his job to cause as much chaos as possible as a civilian. Any number of reporters could recall at least a dozen embarrassing things they’d witnessed the man doing personally.

All this to say, Tim felt like out of all of his family, he could be considered to be one of the most chill out of the bunch. Cass was obviously the best of the bats because she was Cass™.

Unfortunately for Tim, when he’d mentioned his ranking of most to least chill, his siblings had nearly rioted.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘Most Chill??’ Chill is the last word I’d use to describe you Timbo,” Jason said, setting his helmet on his work bench. They’d all, except Bruce, finished patrol and had met in the cave to do their weekly briefing. “I don’t even think you know the definition of anything resembling chill.”

Tim scoffed, shucking one of his gauntlets off his arm. “You’re just mad that I put you as less chaotic than Steph.”

“You know, I’d normally be honored to be crowned Chaos Queen, but I’m gonna have to agree with Bucket Head on this one,” Steph said, draping herself across Cass’ shoulder as the two took their seats at the BatTable. “How can you say that with a straight face with all of the unhinged shit I know you’ve done?”

“I mean, I know I would be considered crazy by most, but in this family? I’m definitely not the one most likely to contract rabies or set off glitter bombs in the batmobile,” Tim said, crossing his arms. He’d settled himself in a chair across from Steph, to the right of Dick. “Cass obviously holds the title of ‘Most Chill’ because she can never do anything wrong ever. Other than her, I can’t think of a single one of us that comes closer to her than I do.”

Damian glared at Tim from where he slumped in his chair diagonal from Tim. The boy had had a rough patrol, sporting a sprained wrist that would have him benched for at least a week. He was irritable by default, so the injury only enhanced the daggers he was staring at Tim.

“Drake, cease your intolerable babbling. I have witnessed first hand some of your more insane plots myself. You have no leg to stand on when it comes to matters of ‘chaos’ or ‘chill.’” Damian spat, sinking further in his seat as he spoke.

Tim had opened his mouth to defend himself from the demon brat, but Dick had already jumped in.

“You have to admit that you have done some more… unique plans,” Dick inclined his head towards Tim. A placating yet amused smile painted itself across his face as he looked down at his little brother. It didn’t quite reach his eyes though. They filled with a haunted gaze, like he was having flashbacks or something. “Honestly, you’d think you were feral sometimes.”

“Name one instance of me being ‘feral,’” Tim challenged, swiveling his chair to face Dick.

“Are you actually serious?” Dick asked, a little incredulous. He looked at Tim, taking in the challenging posture the boy had taken up, his chin raised and arms still crossed. “Do you not remember how you became Robin?”

“Of course I do Dick. How could I forget that?” Tim asked, puzzled. “How does my becoming Robin make me feral?”

Dick gawked at Tim in disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘How does that make me feral’?”

Tim stared back at his brother, tilting his head. “I saw that Batman was losing himself in his grief over Jason and his increasing violence towards common criminals and recklessness. Naturally, I did the most logical thing and tried to get you to become his Robin again.

“When you wouldn’t do it, there was only one other thing I could think of. Batman needed a Robin, so I had to take the job or Gotham would have lost her protector. Bruce may have needed a little convincing, but he saw reason after a while.” Tim said simply.

Dick stared at the boy as if he’d grown scales. “You didn’t just convince Bruce,”-he said that part in air quotes, which, rude - “You quite literally threatened to expose Bruce and I’s identities if he didn’t make you Robin. Even after his blatant refusal, you threw yourself in the field to rescue B and I. You wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bruce had no other choice but to train you.”

Tim waved his hand dismissively towards Dick. “Semantics. Bruce needed the help, even if he didn’t realize it just yet. I was only speeding along an inevitable decision. That hardly makes me anywhere close to feral.”

“Pause,” Jason said, holding his hands up in the ‘Time Out’ gesture. He’d taken his usual seat at the table, Tim on his left and Damian across from him. “Timbo, you blackmailed Bruce into making you into Robin?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know weather boy,” Tim sniped. Jason looked as if he was considering jumping at Tim. There was no hint of glowing green in his otherwise teal eyes, so Tim was safe. He continued on. “I wasn’t actually going to expose their identities, so it doesn’t really count as blackmail.”

“Actually Tim, I think that still counts as blackmail.” Dick said, rotating his chair to face Tim and the others a little better.

“Okay Urkle, I didn’t know we were stiff with our definitions of the law,” Tim rolled his eyes. “All of us have committed blackmail if we’re sticking to the letter of the law, Officer Grayson. Figures a cop would be the one to be such a party pooper.”

Steph snickered as Tim continued. All of them loved to clown on Dick for choosing to be a cop given the very illegal nature of the vigilantism they committed on a daily basis. “That still doesn’t make me feral. That just makes me resourceful and task oriented.”

“I’d argue that definitely makes you a feral gremlin. Timmy, there are literally no other people who’d do all of that to become Robin.” Dick said. He was fully turned toward Tim now, pulling one leg up to rest on the other. 

“Whatever you say big bird. Besides that, what else have I done that makes me ‘feral’?” Tim said. This was turning out to be more of a debate than a briefing, but Tim was growing amused. He truly thought he really hadn’t done anything as wild as the others were describing, but it was fun to hear them try to convince him otherwise.

Jason had decided it was his turn to speak. He leaned forward to rest an elbow on his chair’s armrest as he swivelled towards Tim. “Okay Timbo, how about this one.”

Chapter Text

“Okay Timbo, how about this one.” Jason pointed a finger at Tim from where he sat, leant against his armchair. “I heard from B that you used to sneak out to Gotham at 10 years old. A little Bristol brat like you, I’m surprised you weren’t gutted like fish.”

Tim raised an eyebrow and smirked. He really thinks that’s feral? He didn’t even get the age right.

“Actually, I was 8 when I started ‘sneaking out,’” He put that last part in quotation marks because, was it really sneaking out if he could just walk out the front door as he pleased? He used his window, but that’s besides the point. He told the group as much.

“And I wasn’t just going out to Gotham. I was following Batman and Robin to take some photos. They were great practice, even the art museum liked them,” Tim felt himself preen a little with pride. “So much so that I got a permanent exhibit.”

He ignored his siblings, excluding Cass, and Steph’s look of, ugh, was that concern on their faces? “Jeez, no need to give me that look. Obviously I used a pseudonym for my submissions, I’m not dumb. I know the photos could be used to deduce your identities through my connection to y’all.”

Cass just nodded along because she was obviously the only one who was chill enough to be on the same wavelength as him. The others actually looked a little constipated, their faces twisted in disbelief and, eugh, still concern. 

God, I know we’re all ‘nothing should connect you to your vigilante personna’ but jeez, do they think I’m incompetent? Before Tim could tell them to wipe the dumb looks off their faces, Jason seemed to shake himself from his stupor. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Tim watched, eyebrow still raised as Jason held his hands up. Tim, like the chill guy he was, waited semi patiently. “You’ve been going out on Gotham streets to follow the Batman and Robin since you were 8??”

Tim held back an eye roll. I just said that. “Technically, I just hopped along the rooftops and fire escapes, but yeah. Most of the shots I took from the ground were shit. Expect one aerial I got while Dick was still Robin! That’s one that’s a large print at the museum.”

“Tim, I don’t think that’s what Jason was focusing on.” Tim turned his gaze from Jason to Steph, cocking his head to the side. She was still leaning against Cass’s side.

“Well, I’d already clarified that I was heading to Gotham since I was 8. I just figured he needed to repeat it to fully absorb it,” Tim saw Cass nod out of the corner of his eye. “See, Cass gets it.”

“Little bird, I got the part where you said you went out at 8,” Jason started, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Tim squinted his eyes as his brother signed in exasperation. If anyone should be sighing right now, it’s me. I’m answering their questions, I don’t get what the big deal is.

Unaware or uncaring of Tim’s own exasperation, Jason continued. “What I don’t get is why you were following Batman and Robin across rooftops since Dick was Robin . ”

“What kind of questions is that?” Tim asked in bewilderment. “I had a camera and I was bored. Plus, I figured I could help out the police if I gathered a little evidence on people they were trying to put away. A win-win for everybody involved.”

Jason’s eye twitched with an emotion Tim recognized as growing annoyance. “Tim,” - Why is he full naming me? - “there is no world where an 8 year old should be roaming the streets and rooftops of Gotham. By himself .”

Scoffing, Tim struggled not to roll his eyes. “Well, duh . But obviously, I wasn’t like other 8 year olds. All of you were dealing with so much more shit than I was at 8 years old. I had a steady allowance and a housekeeper that came drop off food once a week. I think my childhood was the tamest compared to all of y’all.”

Tim saw Jason close his eyes and take a breath at that. Why the fuck is he getting his panties in a twist?

“Timmy,” Dick’s gentle voice startled him slightly, but he didn’t let it show. Well, Cass could see it, but she was Cass. She saw everything. “We all went through things when we were 8. We still do. I just think Jason was trying to point out that what you were doing was dangerous.”

Tim’s eyes rolled, unable to keep them from taking a tour of the back of his head. “Of course it was dangerous. We live in Gotham, drinking water from the tap would put most people into a coma. I was just a kid with a hobby. You guys had supervillains for dads or were fighting for your lives.”

He neglected to mention the times he’d had run-ins with different rouges before he became Robin or how he would sometimes have tea with Riddler to discuss certain puzzles. The guy’s mostly reformed and his riddles just scratch the grooves in my brain just right.

From the corner of his eye, he could see how Cass raised one of her eyebrows. Clearly, she’d caught the omission, but was blessedly keeping quiet. This is why Cass is the chillest. She doesn’t go blabbing my business to other people. She’s my favorite.

“Tim, we were forced to survive . We had no other choice but to fight our situations. Not only did you apparently show up and make Bruce let you be Robin, you left your safe home in Bristol to take pictures of Gotham,” Jason was rubbing his forehead as the words left his lips. “You’re a feral child who put himself in danger to take photos of vigilantes.”

For some reason, he sounded tired. Weird. He wasn’t that tired after patrol earlier. Is he just getting old?

Before Tim could clap back that no, I am not feral for having a hobby Jason, I was just a kid with a camera and a dream, Damian spoke. He’d been silent since Tim first explained how he’d become Robin (Which was completely and wholly not blackmail. Tim was just encouraging Bruce along).

“Drake, you said that you had an exhibit in the Gotham Art Museum under a different name,” Damian started. Tim looked to his little brother and nodded, encouraging him to continue. “There is only one exhibit I can think of that is both permanent and consists of our family in our vigilante identities.”

Tim waited, a small, knowing smile across his lips. Damian bit his lip, clearly deliberating on whether or not to risk being wrong. I guess I can knock Damian up a few spots on the chill list. He’s definitely calmed down from all the attempts on my life. Plus, he likes art.

“That would make you Mark Tide?” Damian tilted his head a fraction upwards, readying to defend himself if the need arose.

Tim felt his grin widen. “Got it in one Baby bat.” Damian flushed at the nickname, crossing his arms across his chest. Beneath the slight embarrassment, Tim could see the small smile Damian tried to hide behind a scowl. Hm. I’ll have to take him to shoot some photos one day.

“I was a bit cringe when I was younger,” Stephanie laughed and muttered ‘when he was younger’ under her breath. Tim just gave her a side eye but continued right on. “So I decided to just shuffle the letters of my name.”

“I’ve seen that exhibit many times and it updates regularly,” Tim felt himself preen once more. It was nice that Damian paid enough attention to his work that he knew when it changed. 

Jason lifted his head from where he’d leant it on a propped arm. “Wait, what do you mean ‘updates regularly?’”

Damian took charge of doling out the answer. “It means that there are photos taken as recent as a month ago being displayed. I imagine Drake takes them in his free time. They are quite good quality.”

“Tim! I thought when you became Robin, you put the stalking stuff behind you,” Dick’s eyes widened. Tim just cocked his eyebrow for what felt like the millionth time that night. Does this family just hate hobbies? I’m just a boy.  

“Okay first off, Party pooper officer Grayson strikes again. Secondly, it’s not stalking, it’s called being a detective. Thirdly, god forbid a boy have a hobby,” Tim pointed a finger at his big brother. Dick’s eye twitched as he stared at his little brother. “You guys didn’t even know I was there! Well, except Cass, but you guys didn’t! Hater!”

“That’s got to be feral behavior!” Dick pointed right back. Tim stared down his older brother, an urge to bite filling his veins. 

“I’ll show you feral you-” Tim was cut off.

“Okay, okay, let’s all just chill out bird boys,” Steph, surprisingly the voice of reason. Tim squinted his eyes. Steph never tries to calm a situation down. That girl just rides that chaos and stokes the flames. What is she up to?

Not even a second later, a wide evil smirk spread across her face. She rubbed her hands together like an evil fly. I knew it. “It’s my turn to ask.”

Chapter Text

“It’s my turn to ask,” The wide smirk across Steph’s face only seemed to grow.

“Now that we’ve established Tim was an obsessive little creeper-“

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself Boy Stalker. I’ve got something to bring up about your crazy habits now.” Steph raised an eyebrow along with the smirk.

Oh please, anything Steph is going to say is going to be immediately overshadowed by her involvement in whatever it was. That girl wouldn’t know chill if it hit her over the head with a metal baseball bat. Tim tipped his head in contemplation.

Well, she wouldn’t be Steph if she wasn’t chaos incarnate. I wouldn’t have her any other way.

“Okay girl wonder, what do you have to say that is so ‘feral’” -Tim put air quotes around that because if everyone else was, so would he- “that is blasts whatever you do out of the water?”

Steph narrowed her eyes, holding that evil smirk. Cracking her fingers, she sat up from where she was leaning on Cass’ shoulders and reached for something in one of the pouches on her Spoiler belt™. Rustling around for a moment, the entire table watched as she stuck her tongue out as she looked.

“Any day now Brown,” Damian tapped a gloved finger impatiently on the table.

“Don’t get your bird panties in a twist Dami,” The boy’s eye twitched at the taunt but one pointed look from Dick had him removing his hand from his katana. “I’ve almost got it, it’s right… here!”

Steph yanked out what she was looking for, triumph filling her face. It was a… crumpled piece of paper? A picture maybe?

Either not noticing or, most likely, not caring about the confusion of all of the table’s occupants, Steph barreled on. Well, except Cass. Cass not knowing something, especially about Stephanie Brown , was the silliest thought anyone could have. 

Tim watched as his older sister looked at Steph with heart eyes. His heart filled with warmth at the love he saw but obviously he wasn’t about to show it. Cringe. “Cass, you know I love you. Please stop making goo goo eyes at your girlfriend at the patrol table. You look about two seconds away from jumping her bones.”

Cass just raised an eyebrow as she stared back at him. Tim got her message loud and clear. “You know what, you’re right.”

Dick and Jason looked baffled by the exchange but when did those two boomers know anything Tim did? It’s not his fault the two couldn’t read Cass’ very clear facial expressions like he could.

“As I was saying before someone here so rudely interrupted me,” Steph side eyed Tim from her stop at the table, but he could see the smirk that stretched across her face. She didn’t care at all, but how could she not be a little dramatic about it? Tim knew Steph would die if she couldn’t be dramatic ( it’s called theoretical flair Timmy boy ).

Waving the paper around between two fingers, Steph waved it around in a little circle. “We all know Timothy Jackson Drake-” “What’s with the full name??” “Hush, it’s my turn to point out how crazy you are. We all know our boy Timmy here has gotten into some certified crack ridden raccoon shit. But this, my friends, has got to take the cake.”

Flipping the paper around, everyone could see that it was in fact a photograph. It might have been a slight bit blurry, probably taken by an amateur or someone with chronic jazz hands, but the figures in the photo are easy to parse out.

There, on top of a sled like thing, was Tim Drake. Actually, it was Tim Drake as Robin and with him was Young Justice. How did Steph even get that? We were moving too fast to get this clear of an image. What kind of camera did she use? What kind of camera has that fast of a shutter speed and where would I find one?

While Tim plotted on trying to find whatever camera the photographer used to take the picture, the others were just squinting at the print.

“Blondie, I know we take a lot of hits to the head,” Jason moved to take the photo out of Steph’s hands for a better look. “But what the hell is that photo? Are you on something?”

Surprisingly, it was Damian that defended Steph. Tim even looked up for where he’d been furiously scribbling possible locations for the mythical camera. “Todd, you can quite obviously make out that it is Drake and his band of Neanderthals within the frame. If you weren’t so obtuse, you’d be able to see it for yourself.”

Turning to Steph, Damian looked at her intently. “Brown, I do have to ask what, what in the world is Drake and his team on?”

Steph just shrugged. “Oh, I didn’t take the picture. I just got it from an eye witness who saw it all.”

As she waited a little less than patiently, Tim could see that she was waiting for someone to ask what the eye witness saw. The upward lilt in her voice, how she raised her chin slightly. Dick must have seen it too, because he played right into it. “Eye witness? What kind of eye witness are we talking about?”

If at all possible, the grin on Steph’s face grew impossibly wider. Tim shuddered. She could be twins with the cheshire cat, that grin never ends well. Just about everyone followed suit in Tim’s shuddering. Well, except Cass. If she was making goo goo eyes before, Tim didn’t want to describe the ooey gooey look she was giving Steph now.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked golden boy,” Steph handed him the picture, leaning over the table to deposit it in his waiting hands. “You see, if you look ever so closely… You think you see a sled there, right?”

Dick nodded, passing the photo to Tim, who didn’t need to look, so he passed it right along to the next person. As they all took turns looking, they each nodded after closely examining the blurry photo. 

“I’m glad we could all agree,” Taking back the photo, Steph held it up and where did she pull that pointer hand from? Her ass?? Using said sparkly purple pointer hand, Steph outlined the sled object. “What you are seeing in this photograph is… Santa’s sled.”

Beside him, snickers escaped Jason’s lips. What, he doesn’t believe in Santa? Weirdo, must’ve been on the naughty list I guess.

Dick, ever the peace keeper, bit the inside of his cheek to keep his own laughter from escaping. “Okay Steph, that would be really cool. If Santa existed.”

Both Tim and Steph rolled their eyes in sync. Tim could see the daggers Cass was beaming into Dick’s back from her eyes. Yeesh, I would rather die than get on Cass’ bad side.

“No, no, she’s right.” Tim had his phone out, looking through maps to determine where the manufacturer of the camera might be. “The team and I were on Santa’s sleigh.”

Steph looked like she was the cat that got the canary as Jason and Dick sputtered. Sighing heavily, Damian just looked at his brothers with an unimpressed look. It seemed like Jason got his words back first. “Baby Bird, what do you mean you were on Santa’s sleigh? Santa isn’t real.”

Cue second eyeroll. I’m going to get a migraine if this keeps up . “No, that’s where you’re wrong. You must’ve been on the naughty list for years if you think Santa isn’t real. I met the guy, so I think I know what I’m talking about here, boomer.” As Jason squawked in offense, Tim turned to Steph. “I still don’t know how that makes me feral or unhinged.”

“Well, my dear bird boy, I’ll tell you,” Steph set the photo down and waved the sparkly pointer hand into Tim’s face. “When I talked to this eye witness, who will not be named, they told me that right before they saw you on the sleigh, there was a massive explosion. Like, Dick ate some of those war crime cereals of his and had to take a shit kind of explosion.”

Ignoring the quick ‘Hey!’ from Dick, Tim giggled a little at the joke. Turning his head to the betrayed look Dick was wearing, Tim just shrugged. “The explosion may have been my fault.”

“That’s a given knowing you and knowing this family. Still doesn’t explain why you and the super powered munchkins are riding on a sled.” Jason cocked an eyebrow at him. The table sat, waiting for Tim to continue. 

Leaning back into his chair, Tim looked to the sky for patience. Wonder Woman, give me strength . When he looked back, everyone was still looking at him with an expectant look in their eyes. Nosy Nellies.

“If you must know, my team and I were doing some simple recon on a case when we saw a man flying on the sled and sneaking into an abandoned warehouse. He matched the id of the perp we’d been searching for and we already knew the guy was a meta with an uber healing factor, so maybe I shot a bazooka at him.”

“Where did you get a bazooka?!” Dick looked at him in shocked horror. Tim held back a giggle at the face. What can I say, Dick has the goofiest faces . On Tim’s other side, Jason seemed pleased by Tim’s use of heavy artillery. 

Because he was just a little guy, Tim just shrugged. “I hid it in the Batarang budget. B doesn’t check it, I’ve got like three batmobiles. A bazooka is nothing.”

Across the table, Damian’s eyes lit up. Staring at each other, Tim and Damian nodded, a mutual understanding to use one for their next patrol together made.

“Anyways, it turned out that the guy we blew up wasn’t actually the guy we were looking for. It just so happened to be Santa we found in the wreckage. And he may or may not have been a little bit… dead?” Shock and glee filled Steph’s eyes. Beside her, Casss just nodded at Tim. A simple mistake they both understood. Maybe the guy shouldn’t have been sneaking into places through a chimney.

“You killed Santa Claus?” The pleased look Jason had quickly drained away with all the color in his face, horror taking its place.

“Eeh, it was just a little explosion. He came back later, so it doesn't really count,” Tim waved his hand dismissively at his older brother. Gosh, so dramatic. No wonder he was in theatre when he was still alive. “My team and I just had to give out all the presents he hadn’t gotten delivered yet and then he was fine. Besides, it only took like a month to get it all done.”

Copying Jason, Dick held the bridge of his nose in one hand. Looking up at his feral younger brother, he felt an eye twitch. “Wait, so that month you and the team were on an off world mission a few years bacK? That was just you delivering presents because you killed Santa Claus ?”

“Gosh, I already said he came back after we delivered all the presents. Calm down hoe, he’s fine.” Cue 3rd eye roll. “Y’all are being a bunch of drama queens. Everything worked out fine in the end.”

Looking at Steph, Tim pulled out a sparkly orange pointer hand from his utility belt. “Still, that doesn’t make me feral or unhinged. I’d say that makes me responsible and shows I have great time management skills. The elves said that it’d take a normal crew of people three months to get it all done and my team did it in one.”

“YOU KILLED SANTA CLAUS,” Jason threw up his hands in exasperation, looking just a little frazzled. Gosh, he really is getting old. He normally wouldn’t be this tired right now.

“As I said many times before, he got brought back,” Tim pointed the finger towards his brother now. “And you said you don’t even believe in Santa Claus.”

Across from him, Steph lost her shit laughing at the scene before her. “God, I love you Tim Drake. Never change. Well, maybe change deodorants, you stink like a mother fucker.”

Tim just rolled his eyes, but fondly this time.

“Alright, alright. Now that we have come to an understanding that Drake killed Santa Claus, it is my turn.” Damian stared at TIm intently, question at the ready.

Chapter Text

“Now that we have come to an understanding that Drake killed Santa Claus, it is my turn.” Damian swiveled his chair to face his older brother.

“Well, what do you have to say about me that ‘isn’t chill’” Tim put air quotes around ‘isn’t chill’ because obviously Damian didn’t have much of a leg to stand on in that contest. What could he say about Tim that would outdo all the murder attempts the murder baby had pulled before?

Granted, the kid had been working on it and was making good progress. So what if Tim was proud of Damian’s efforts to keep himself afloat in this whole new world he’d just been thrown into without much of any kind of help? No one will ever hear me say it, I’ll never live it down. I’ll just have to slip Damian some reference photos when he’s not looking. Oooo, maybe I could send him on a wild goose chase that leads him to the perfect painting spot at just the right time of day! Yeah, that’ll do. Damian likes a bit of mildly life threatening adventure. Maybe Eddie’ll want to help out…

Unaware of his insane older brother’s very chill and lowkey plan to show his little brother how proud he was of him, Damian sat back in his chair and put his fingers together in a little tent. The gleam in his eyes wasn’t exactly sinister per say, but Jason and Dick definitely shuddered unconsciously at the sight of it. 

Cass just grinned wide as Steph started to relax onto the older girl, a yawn overtaking her. Knowing her, Cass probably already knew what Damian was about to falsely accuse Tim of.

“I am glad you asked Drake,” Moving his chair to swivel left to right, back and forth, the littlest bit, Damian was visibly eager to tell his own story. Tim held back a snicker at the way the kid was practically vibrating in his seat like a speedster on crack; if he laughed, Damian wouldn’t tell his tale of how ‘crazy’ and ‘unhinged’ Tim was.

“I was visiting my mother at the league last month, and all was normal and as it should be. When I mentioned my upcoming mission with Kent,” Damian was interrupted by Jason making kissy noises. It was only by the grace of whatever god was up there that Damian didn’t jump the table right then and there. 

No, what Jason got was a deathly glare as the youngest’s eye twitched and the vein in his forehead visibly bulged. Tim held back his snicker. There was a promise of unworldly violence in Damian’s green eyes and Tim was not that much of an idiot to turn the attention on him.

Determining that Jason was sufficiently threatened, Damian cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Tim. “As I was saying, at the mention of my upcoming mission, Mother advised me to bring one of the swords my Grandfather keeps in his trophy room. As I said, all was normal. That is, until I actually ventured into the aforementioned room to take one of the swords.”

Everyone shuddered at the mention of Ra’s. UGgh. Why the hell would he mention that freaky deeky old man?

Next to him, Dick was having the exact same thoughts. “Baby Bat, what does your grandfather or different swords for missions have anything to do with Tim being a little goblin?”

“Hey!” Tim waved his sparkly orange pointer finger at Dick, poking him in the shoulder. “What the heck man? You really had to bring out the G word with no proof?”

Dick swatted the pointer away and gawked. “I so too have proof! Didn’t I just describe the wild lengths you went through to become Robin?”

“And the fact that you were following around vigilantes through the streets, sorry, the rooftops of Gotham at eight years old?” Pointing a finger at his little brother, Jason corrected himself with an unnecessary amount of sarcasm in Tim’s very humble opinion.

As if on cue, since everybody seemed to be joining the pile on tonight, Steph sleepily raised her own sparkly purple pointer finger at Tim. “Yeah and you murdered Santa Claus.”

Tim threw his hands up. “Okay, it doesn’t even count ‘cause that red-wearing reindeer-riding came back! And I mean credible proof that actually has grounds in our own world, not just regular kid shit. If anybody was a goblin, it’d be Dick! Do y’all know how much he wanted to murder-”

“I’ll show you credible evidence you little-” Apparently Dick was twinning with Damian tonight because Tim could see the vein in his forehead bulge as he went to stand. I swear, I’m going to jump that guy one day. Dick won’t even know what hit him.

“Ahem!” The pair froze as Damian cleared his throat sharply. As they turned to him in their various stages of movement, the unimpressed look was plain as day.

After a moment, the kid raised his eyebrow expectantly and, really, who does this kid think he is?? Alfred? Wonder Woman??

Regardless of Tim’s inner questioning of the little shit’s authority, he sat back down in his chair. He didn’t relax though; no, Tim was ready to fight a bitch at a moment’s notice. Cold metal kissed his skin where his fingers hovered over his bo staff. I bet Dick or Jason’ll try something. I could take ‘em.

Damian sighed as his brothers pouted across the table from him. “Again, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I made my way into my Grandfather's trophy room.”

An involuntary shiver made its way down Tim’s spine. Memories of the room Damian was talking about flashed, trying to push to the forefront of his mind. He would not let them. 

Yikers, those little souvenirs go in the box and they do not come out of the box. It would be very helpful if my stupid mind would let me recycle the box, but since my mind is obviously against sustainable living, it refuses. Betrayed by my own brain. Truly tragic.

Nobody but Cass noticed Tim’s excessive reaction to the mention of the Demon’s head.. Everyone else was focused on Damian as he continued to speak. 

“When I entered, everything was as it usually was. There are always some new additions to his collection each time I enter, so I thought it might be nice to take a stroll. Grayson has been saying taking time to look for new things is good for the soul.”

Dick brought his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Baby Bat, when I say ‘take a stroll’ or ‘try something new,’ it will never mean to do any of this.”

“Semantics,” Damian waved a dismissive hand at his oldest brother, clearly getting into telling his story. “Anyways, it had been quite some time since I’d visited the room, so the additions were quite extensive. Though, it wasn’t long before one thing in particular caught my eye.”

Oh shit. Really? Is this really going to be how the Bats figure it out? 

On the outside? Tim’s exterior was calm and serene and totally gave no indication that he knew what Damian was about to mention. 

Internally? The thought of it made his heart start to beat loud in his ears and made his skin begin to crawl. Whatever. Tim ignored the pounding in his ears, it was probably from all the hearing loss from explosions and other work related injuries. Crawling skin? Psh, Alfred probably forgot to warm the cave up after one of Bruce’s brooding sessions. 

Haha. I’m so normal about all of this.

Tim raised an eyebrow at Damian to continue even if he really didn’t want him to. It’s either be completely silent, which would be forfeiting the pattern of behavior I’ve displayed throughout the evening and leading them all to think I’m unnerved. Absolutely not, they’d treat me like some kind of child that can’t regulate their emotions and needs to be treated like glass. If I give too much of a reaction, it’d lead to the same thing. Let’s go with the Eyebrow Special™ to throw them off.

Apparently Damian was going for some kind of dramatic pause, but Dick being the impatient guy he was, started to whine. “Dami, I appreciate the homage to Jason’s dramatics. Really, the pause is a very nice touch. But I beg you, please tell me what your grandfather has to do with Tim not being chill. The thought of something to do with Timmy being in that dusty old man’s trophy room is distressing.”

Rolling his eyes, Damian huffed. “It is not my fault you do not appreciate the arts Grayson, but if you insist on rushing me, I will tell you.”

“Finally,” Jason rolled his eyes harder than Tim thinks he’s ever seen. Maybe he’s looking for his brain. 

With a quick swipe of his hand, Damian flicked a dagger into the back of the chair beside Jason’s head. Tim nearly snorted as his older brother flinched. Not even when Jason let out a little eep! Tim didn’t since he was such a kind and chill person who definitely wasn’t missing a major body part.

Unmoved by his older brother’s reaction to what Tim would say was a warranted knife thrown, Damian continued to face Tim as he spoke.

“Since you heathens don’t seem to appreciate my excellent showmanship, I will continue on without the ‘theatrics.’ As I told you, I was inspecting Grandfather’s more recent acquisitions when I noticed a familiar name nestled amongst the masses.”

Cue all heads turning to stare at Tim. Even through bleary, half lidded eyes, Steph was giving Tim a look. Crossing his arms across his chest, Tim scoffed, offended. “What the hell? Why are y’all looking at me? It could be any of our names on that jar!”

A Cheshire grin spread across Damian’s face. “I never said it was a jar Drake.”

Well. I should have seen that coming. Oh well, C’est la vie and all that bullcrap.

Because he was so chill, Tim just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, like a chill person would do. Totally not like a person who was filled with an unwelcome bout of stabbing anxiety. Nope. Not at all. Haha.

“Lucky guess.” Tim waved his hand dismissively, keeping a level face.

His younger brother narrowed his eyes but continued on. “As Drake ‘guessed’, it was a jar I found. And what did I find inside? Some kind of purpley oval shape floating in pit water. My guess was that it was some kind of organ, but when I asked Mother, she would not tell me anything.”

Wait, Ra’s is keeping my spleen in a fucking mason jar with pit water?? Tim felt his eye twitch, letting the silent fury rush through his veins. It was certainly an easier feeling than focusing on the looks his siblings were giving him. When I get my hands on him, next time I’ll blow up more than just his Lazarus pits. That dust bucket is going to regret the day he stole my fucking spleen.

“Timbo, what the fuck does Damian mean?” Great, that was the tone Jason got when he was about to go on a murder spree. Jeez, overprotective much? Not very chill of him.

“I hardly see how an oversized kidney bean in a jar with my name on it makes me ‘not chill,’” Tim deflected expertly if he did say so himself. 

Unfortunately for him, the king of deflection himself Dick Grayson caught it and brought it right back to Tim. Which, in Tim’s very objective and humble opinion, was a Dick move. “Nuh uh, we can talk about how ‘chill’ you are later. Right now, we all need to know why in the name of Wonder Woman Ra’s has an organ in a jar with your name on it Baby Bird.”

Phooey. They’re really not going to let this go are they? Looking between his brothers and sister and Steph, Tim could see the patented Bat determination in them. Even Damian looked a little, ugh, worried. Well, they’re going to badger me endlessly about this until I tell them or until one of them sneaks into Nanda Parabat to take a look for themselves. For their own safety, these idiots are forcing me to tell them.

Exactly what I did not want. Goodbye freedom, hello being treated like a helpless child for the next few weeks. Hopefully they’ll forget about it soon; there’s always some big injury every few months. They’ll be over this once Jason gets shot in the shoulder again or something.

Resigned to his fate, Tim sighed and sank back into his chair. “Okay, so Ra’s may or may not have my spleen…”

“What?!” Ah, it was like a chorus of confusion and Tim was the conductor. The news was apparently so shocking that it roused a sleeping Steph, which said a lot. Tim shuddered as he remembered the one and only time he tried to wake that girl up. It’s like trying to take salmon away from a bear. Except the Bear is Stephanie Brown and the salmon is sleep.

Dick seemed to regain his words first this time. “Baby Bird, why the ever loving fuck does Ra’s al Ghul have your spleen?”

The sheer bewilderment in his tone threw Tim for a loop. He may or may not have giggled a little at the look at his elder brother’s face, but could you blame Tim? He was just a boy. I get to laugh a little, I didn’t want them to know about my splenectomy. I’m just a boy who’s coping.

Tim considered the question. Should I answer honestly? Would it make me more or less chill if they knew how it happened? Well, in my humble opinion, it’s not my fault I lost it in the first place. I’m actually handling this whole immunocompromised thing with grace. I’d say that makes me even more chill.

“It’s not even my fault. Some bitches were attacking assassins and I just so happened to be in a band of merry assassins at the time. I got stabbed through my side, nearly bled out in the horrendous desert heat, and then for whatever unknown reason, Ra’s decided to save me and my surviving companion. When I woke up after passing out, my spleen was gone. End of story.”

A sharp pang went through Tim’s heart as his mind lingered over the memory of Z and Owens, but he only allowed it for a moment. He didn’t have the time to let himself wallow. Tim had an old man to teach a lesson, because hello, why the hell would the old man keep his spleen?

As he expected, all but Cass latched onto the attacked in the desert thing and losing his spleen thing rather than the fact that Tim had just admitted to working with assassins. Chatter erupted among them. 

They’d catch on after a moment, but Tim was a sneaky guy. Plus, he was smart, so he knew now was the time to slip out of the room before the concentrated attention of concerned bats were upon him.

Pushing whatever icky gross feelings he was having out of the way, Tim let his mind race with ways to prove he was more chill than the rest of him. Because of course, that was all that mattered. 

As he silently slipped out of the cave, he felt a pair of eyes bore into his back. It was as good an indicator as any that Cassandra Cain was following him. She never got her question in did she? Guess I’ll meet her at the Nest.