Chapter Text
They're not sure how it happened, is the thing. One minute they're fighting a witch and the next Red Robin is down for the count and scooped off the battlefield by Batman. There's no warning, no signs of the witch having used this particular spell before, but the proof is there clear as day when they get back to the Batcave to see a small boy balanced on a cot with a mug of tea in his tiny hands.
"The fuck?" Jason says eloquently.
"Language," Alfred chides.
Tim's head snaps up to stare at him with big eyes. There's no recognition there as his shoulders pull in and his fingers tighten.
"The spell has de-aged him," Bruce reports, still in his suit sans cowl. "His memories have reverted to the age of ten—"
"Before I was Robin," Jason finishes.
"So he doesn't know any of us?" Steph asks, peering around Jason to give a little wave. Tim doesn't seem to know how to respond.
"At this age, he knows Alfred and I, as well as—"
"Timmy!" Dick darts over, hands already working on peeling off his mask. "Do you remember me?"
Tim stares at him for a few long moments as Dick reveals his face. His eyes go wide before he squeaks out, "R-robin?"
Dick beams. "At your service!"
"It's Nightwing now," Damian mutters, arms crossed as he glowers at the pair.
"Just let him have it," Steph dismisses, already heading towards the showers with Cass.
"You're wearing a different suit," Tim says, staring at the bird decal on the Nightwing suit like it's betrayed him. His bottom lip trembles. "You're not Batman's partner anymore?"
"Oh no, it's okay, Timmy." Dick scoops him up into his arms with a soft coo. Somehow, the tea Tim is holding doesn't spill, even as Dick rubs his cheek against the top of Tim's head. "I'm just older now. I passed the mantle down."
Jason snorts. That's an oversimplification if he's ever heard it.
Bruce shoots him a look; he holds his hands up. "I won't traumatize the kid, don't worry."
"Master Richard, perhaps a shower is in order before you come upstairs?" Alfred suggests.
Dick pouts but sets Tim down all the same. "I'll be right back!" He promises, bolting for the showers like Croc is on his heels.
Tim blinks after him in flushed face bewilderment. He turns back to Bruce and Jason as he sets his cup down. "Am I in trouble?"
Bruce moves closer to kneel before him. "Why would you think that, chum?"
"I'm in the Batcave," he whispers, "I'm not supposed to know your identities. Are you—are you going to tell my parents?"
Something complicated passes over Bruce's face. Yeah, Jason isn't sticking around for that one. He makes an about face and heads to the showers.
"You're not in trouble," Bruce promises. "You're here for your own safety. When you're older, you know all of us."
"Really?" Tim looks at Alfred, who smiles gently in return.
"Really."
"So you won't tell my parents?"
Bruce shakes his head. "No, chum. Your secret is safe with us."
He ducks his head. "Thank you," he whispers. "I'm sorry for being a bother."
"Tim, you're never a bother. I promise."
Bruce doesn't get a response but that's not surprising. He stands with a small sigh and turns back to the Batcomputer. "I'm going to see what Oracle has found and call Zatanna. Alfred and Dick will take care of you for now but you can always ask for me if you need me."
Tim nods silently.
Alfred holds out a hand. "Why don't you join me upstairs, Master Timothy? The others will be up shortly."
He hops down from the bed to put his hand in Alfred's oh so carefully. He barely holds on, like he's afraid if he squeezes too hard it'll disappear. He's quiet on the way up the elevator, eyes darting around as he takes everything in. Alfred helps him up onto one of the kitchen bar stools before he gets to work on heating up breakfast.
It's silent for several long minutes until Dick comes barreling down the hallway and into the kitchen. He immediately zeroes in on Tim who blushes darkly as he takes the seat next to him. Damian follows at a far more sedate pace with Alfred the cat in his arms.
"Oh," Tim breathes, eyes wide as he stares. He seems to regret the noise immediately as all eyes turn to him. "Y-you have a cat?"
"Indeed. This is Alfred the cat." Damian hesitates before rounding the counter. "Would you like to hold him?"
"Oh, I wouldn't want to disturb him—"
"Nonsense." He takes the seat on Tim's other side and helps adjust Tim's arms before placing Alfred into them. "Support his back legs like this and hold him to your chest. Yes, like that."
Tim stares down at the cat in his arms like he's just learned that unicorns are real. His mouth is open in a shocked little o, eyes gleaming with something close to awe. He very carefully runs a hand over Alfred's head and nearly gasps when it earns a purr and an affectionate bump of his head.
"He likes you," Damian says quietly.
"I like him too," Tim says, just as quiet but twice as shy.
"I take it you've never had pets?"
"No." He shakes his head and scratches under Alfred's chin. "My parents—there are a lot of valuables in our house. And pets are dirty. They said it was too risky."
"Tt. It's all about training."
"I'm sure you'd be a great pet owner," Dick tells Tim. "What kind of pet do you want?"
"Oh, um. I've always liked cats. And horses. My parents took me to a riding stable once and it was nice."
Dick blinks. "Really? I didn't know that. You've never mentioned horses before."
"It's not that important," Tim mumbles.
"There are stables on the grounds," Damian says. "Batcow lives there."
"Batcow?" he echoes.
"She's a magnificent animal. Would you like to meet her later?"
Tim nods. "If it's not too much trouble."
Footsteps sound from down the hall. Steph, Jason and Cass trail into the kitchen to take the remaining seats.
"I'm starving!" Steph groans. "Chasing around magic users all night is the worst!"
"Better than a Rogue escape," Jason grunts.
"Getting old," Cass teases.
Steph gasps. "Cass! How could you?!"
Dick leans closer to Tim, who watches them with careful eyes. "The big guy is Jason, he's my little brother and a big softie so don't let his face fool you. The blonde is Steph, she's one of your best friends when you're older. And Cass is your sister."
"Sister?" Tim gapes over at her. "But mother always said she didn't want children."
"Adopted," Cass corrects, "we decide."
"You wanted me for your brother?"
She smiles and nods. "Best brother. Favorite Robin."
"Hey!" Dick complains good-naturedly. "You're not supposed to say that out loud!"
She shrugs. "Oops."
Tim is shellshocked. "You—you called me Robin."
"Five outta six of the people at this table have been Robin," Jason drawls. "Don't get too twisted up about it, kid."
He looks up at Dick with big eyes. He looks upset, nose scrunched up and eyebrows knitted together. "But Robin—it's yours."
Dick softens. He lifts a hand to ruffle Tim's hair. "It's okay, Timmy. Like I said, I passed the mantle on. Damian is Robin right now."
"And I will one day take my place as Batman, as is my right," Damian declares.
"Oh." Tim chews on his bottom lip. "So you—you gave me Robin too?"
There's a telling silence from the rest of the table. Dick hides a grimace. He doesn't want to lie but he doesn't want to break Tim's heart either. "Something like that!"
Alfred slides a stack of pancakes onto the counter, breaking the tension before it can settle. Drinks follow shortly as well as plates for each of them. Dick makes Tim's pancakes the way he knows he likes them, with syrup and marshmallows, before pushing his plate within reach.
Tim blinks at it in surprise. "That's for me?" he asks cautiously.
"Sure is!" Dick says cheerfully.
He shifts carefully to keep Alfred the cat cradled in one arm. He picks up his fork but doesn't eat a bite until everyone else has dug in. Even still, he eats slowly, like he's both savoring it and waiting for someone to tell him he's had enough.
"How do you sleep?" Jason asks Steph, as she covers her pancakes in mounds of chocolate chips.
"Pure force of will," she says brightly.
Damian sniffs and takes a bite of his fruit covered stack.
"Are you not feeling well?" Dick asks Tim quietly, when he sees how much is still left on his plate.
"Oh no, I just—" his eyes dart around, fingers tightening around his fork, "my parents don't like it when I eat a lot of sugar. My mother says I need to lose my baby fat."
Jason stiffens across the table. Dick fights to keep his face open. "Baby fat doesn't work like that," he says gently, "you're still growing and I won't tell if you won't."
He winks when Tim looks up at him. Tim nods slowly and spears a marshmallow with his fork; he eats it slowly, like he's waiting for someone to jump out and yell sike! When no one says or does anything, some of the tension leaves his small shoulders. He picks up another piece and eats it.
Dick ends up finishing long before him but he doesn't get up. He trades banter with the others, all while keeping an eye on Tim who makes it through a little less than half his plate before yawning. Dick makes the executive decision to carry him to bed when he starts blinking sleepily and scoops him up into his arms, cat and all.
Tim makes a surprised sound but doesn't fight the hold. He leans his head against Dick's chest, trusting in a way that Dick is still fighting to earn back with his adult self. He's so small in Dick's arms, it brings back memories of those first months of training, when he didn't want to be around Bruce but couldn't handle not being involved in another Robin's life. Not when it was his fault he was there in the first place.
He'd fallen in love with Tim's spirit, starting from the first time he put Tim on his back only for the boy to bounce back up with a determined 'again.' He remembers the awe in Tim's face the first time he taught him how to fly. He remembers small hands clinging to his wrists as they swung high above the ground, moments after he'd promised not to let Tim fall from the trapeze. He remembers train surfing and late night Bat burgers. He remembers catastrophe and heartbreak and injuries, all with Tim at his side.
Grief wells up in him as he thinks about their current relationship and the cracks that still separate them. Tim was his Robin long before he ever put on the cowl and that was exactly why he'd wanted to make Tim Nightwing instead, when Bruce was gone. He hadn't wanted to go back to the past; they'd grown and it was time for a different kind of partnership, but he'd fucked it all up the day Tim saw Damian in the Robin suit.
He leans his head against Tim's and breathes in the standard issue soap they keep in the cave.
When he opens the door to Tim's room, it feels too empty. There used to be pictures on the walls and scattered notes. The shelf that once held Tim's cameras is bare. The albums containing his photos are gone. The Flying Grayson's poster isn't above his bed. He knows it's in Tim's nest, he knows that Tim still has it but the absence of it here and now still makes him want to scream.
When did Tim pull away from the manor? When did his room turn into the same type of ghost as Jason's?
"Dick?" Tim mumbles, peering up at him with heavy eyelids. "What's wrong?"
"I'm okay, babybird," Dick lies, because none of this is Tim's fault. He moves deeper into the room to sit down on the bed.
A questioning noise comes from the boy in his arms.
"I just—I just want to hold you for a bit," he admits, tightening his arms around him. Alfred the cat gets up to lay down on one of the pillows, freeing up the space in Tim's arms and giving Dick a chance to hug him properly.
"Oh," Tim says into his shoulder, arms coming up to wrap around Dick's neck. His movements are hesitant, like he's never really done them before. When Dick doesn't correct him, he relaxes into the embrace with a soft little sigh that breaks Dick's heart all over again.
Tim has always been touch starved but Dick can't remember if he ever clued in to just how bad it was back when he first came back into his life. Did he hug Tim enough? Did he make sure he knew he was wanted? Evidently not, since Tim was so easily convinced that Dick wanted to replace him.
"Did you know that I love you?"
He gasps. "You do?"
"Yeah, little bird." Dick presses a kiss to his temple. "I need to say it to your older self more."
"He must love you too. I mean," Tim hides his face away in Dick's neck, face flushed and voice shy, "I think you're amazing so—so he must too, right?"
"Yeah?" He tickles Tim's side lightly, just to hear him giggle. "I think you're just trying to butter me up so I sneak you marshmallows in the morning."
"Dick, no!" Tim shrieks, laughter on his smiling lips. "Not—not fair!"
He falls back against the mattress, still holding Tim to his chest as he lets up on his sides. He breathes deep and slow, wondering when he'll be able to make Tim laugh and smile like this as an adult.
It doesn't matter. He's going to make it happen, no matter what it takes. It's a vow he swears to himself here and now.