Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim was independent. He was reliable. He was self-sufficient. He was ten years old, and ten year olds didn’t need help – he was practically an adult at this point. 

In fact, Tim hadn’t seen his parents in three months, and he was still doing great. Actually, it was almost better when his parents weren’t there because then he got to go out and see Batman and Robin on weekdays without having to sneak out his window down the trellis. His parents still hadn’t noticed those nights either, so it wasn’t too bad for his photography if they were home, but a couple of times, he had tripped and hurt his ankle when he jumped down. Since he started sneaking out, Tim had taken some really good photos, showing Robin leaping on rooftops or Batman swinging on his grappler or even both of them at the same time. There were even times where he was able to time it just right so that he got to take pictures of Batman and Robin in action fighting crime. It was better that Tim was alone; he was used to it. 

The only problem was that his tooth hurt. 

At the start, it was just a dull ache. When he would drink something with ice or eat cold food, there would be a throbbing sensation, but it was fine most of the time. He could ignore it. It just meant that he had to avoid some foods and drinks – no big deal. Tim liked sandwiches, and Mrs. Mac always brought the ingredients for a PB&J. It was no big deal. It was such an easy fix, and at the end of the week, Tim’s parents would be back from al-Ula, and then maybe he could go see a dentist. 

At least, Tim reasoned, it was no big deal until his tooth started to hurt when he wasn’t eating. 

He woke up one Tuesday and found that it wasn’t just a dull ache anymore but in fact a throbbing pain on the left side of his mouth. Luckily, it was still one of his remaining baby teeth (he thought), so he probably didn’t need major surgery (he hoped). He admitted that maybe he would have to eat soft foods for now, but it would be okay soon. He could ignore the pain a little longer, and then he would be fine. Tim had always gotten through by himself. Unfortunately, Tim’s parents had delayed their stay for another three weeks, so he would have to ignore it for a little longer. Just a little while longer.

He wasn’t some baby. He knew where the medicine cupboard was, so he started to take Ibuprofen on a schedule, following the instructions to manage the pain. He even made himself a chart to keep track of how many he could take each day and at what time because he was responsible like that. 

He hadn’t actually looked in the mirror at the inside of his mouth since the beginning – not because he was scared or anything; he just didn’t think that looking at it would help anything when there wasn’t anything more that could be done. Also, if Tim didn’t look, it was easier to pretend it wasn’t there.

With each passing day, the pain in Tim’s mouth grew. It wasn’t a sudden sharp increase in discomfort, but it became more and more significant, and it seemed to be spreading. What was once localized pain became a throbbing on the left side of his jaw that was always there. He had to stop sleeping on his side because of how sharp the ache became. 

The area around his tooth felt swollen, and he was positive that someone would notice at school. It must have been inflamed enough to show up when he was sitting in class. That’s how it felt at least. No one seemed to notice, so he just held out hope for his parents. 

It was at that point that Tim became desperate. 

He started to double up on the Ibuprofen and take Tylenol at the same time. He looked up online that it was okay to mix Ibuprofen and Tylenol. Maybe that would fix it. He added the Tylenol doses to his chart and increased the overall dosage of the Ibuprofen. Maybe he was taking more than he was supposed to, and sure, he probably should have been taking the children’s stuff, but that stuff didn’t really work anymore. 

Tim actually tried pulling the tooth out himself, but it wasn’t wiggly, and he just couldn’t get enough of a grip. He tried the pliers he found in the garden shed, but he definitely wasn’t strong enough to yank it out of his admittedly small mouth, and it also really hurt when he tried. 

Tim was sure that it would all work out. His parents would come home, and they would notice that he wasn’t feeling well, and they would surely take him to the dentist. Tim would ask them so nicely, and his mom would hold him, and say that it was all going to be okay, and then his tooth would get fixed. When they left again, it would all be fixed, and Tim could continue to look after himself. He was the man of the house after all.

On the morning of Tim’s parents’ flight, he was on the verge of tears. Even with the doubled up medication to soothe the pain, Tim felt like his mouth was on fire. He could hardly bend his jaw let alone chew, and he had only drank broth for the last week. Mrs. Mac thankfully hadn’t noticed because he was sure she would try some sort of herbal remedy on him, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to ingest it without throwing up. Everything kind of made him want to throw up actually. He really didn’t feel so good.

Tim sat eagerly at his computer tracking AG142, the flight his parents were on. When the plane landed, he put in quick calculations, feeling a little bit slower than usual, considering the time it would take to get off the plane, get their luggage, and move through the airport. Then he plugged that new time into his phone maps app. According to his calculations, Jack and Janet Drake should be home at approximately 3:37pm with their bags in front of Drake Manor. Tim would be ready. 

Here was his plan:

1. Tim would wait by the door so that he would be prepared when their taxi pulled in. They liked it when they saw him right away and didn’t have to wait (the one time he didn’t meet them at the door, they hadn’t actually come to find him at all, which was definitely worse than sitting and waiting by the door).
2. When the taxi would arrive, he would run out to meet his parents, and he was sure that they would give him a hug. Afterall, it had been over four months since they’d last been in Gotham. They probably missed him at least a little bit. 
3. Then, Tim would help bring their bags in. Usually, he would help with the unpacking while his parents relaxed after their flight, but Tim would work really fast to get it done to prepare for the next step.
4. Tim had a frozen lasagna defrosted, so he would impress them by having the food ready to go in the oven. They were always hungry when they got home after a long flight, and Tim was pretty sure he could force himself to eat a little bit of lasagna. Maybe just the sauce though.
5. When they were settled, and unpacked, and fed, and in a good mood, Tim would mention offhand that he hadn’t been to the dentist since he was eight and that he worried that cavities might make him less desirable to the shareholders or at the galas or to future matchmaking candidates or to anyone. Surely, it was better that he make a dentist appointment to deal with the concern. 
6. Tim would go to the dentist, and Tim wouldn’t feel like his mouth was on fire.

The plan was perfect. All he had to do was see it out, and maybe by next week, he would have an appointment. He could either get a filling or a root canal or an extraction or honestly an entire jaw replacement – whatever was needed to make the pain stop. At this point, he would take anything.

Unfortunately, the plan did not go according to how Tim envisioned it.

There was traffic on the highway, so Tim’s parents ended up arriving at 4:05pm. The lateness should not have been unforgivable if it wasn’t for their baggage being lost at the baggage claim. Janet found out that one of her suitcases had actually been placed on a flight headed to Madrid, so she may not see her suitcase for another week. That was obviously unacceptable because she would be on another plane by then headed to Athens. She was in a bit of a bad mood.

“It’s great to see you, mom!” Tim had said gently as he opened the taxi door for his mother.

“Absolutely useless!” his mother had cried to Jack. “I will just keep calling if they can’t get it right. This is why you can’t trust the help. How are we supposed to be ready for the gala tonight without this evening’s attire?” 

“So right, my dear! Completely useless. We will have to sue air support,” Jack replied, stepping out of the far end of the car and moving to the trunk. He pulled out three suitcases, apparently not enough for the entire trip. “Tim, would you be a good sport and bring these in? I need to get ready for the gala at the McTavert’s this evening, and my hair just can’t be salvaged.” 

Janet nodded in agreement, giving him a half glance as she put her suitcase into his arms. “Oh, yes, Tim. Just the bags. I need to get dolled up for the gala tonight. I was going to show everyone the jewellery set we picked up in Jeddah, but that’s clearly not an option.” She started to walk away towards the house, not giving him a backwards glance.

Tim tried to smile, but only the left half of his mouth responded fully. “Yes, of course, I’ll unload the taxi. Sorry, but which gala though? I thought you had the night off?” 

Janet was already on her way to the house, not really having looked at Tim, but Jack paused. “Why, Tim, it is one of the greatest nights of the year. There will be Supers there and everything. It’s all about connections, son. Remember that. Connections are incredibly important for us Drake men.” 

Tim sighed, watching as Jack turned and half marched towards the main property. So much for the dentist. He would need to put the frozen lasagne in the fridge.

Most of Tim’s plan had fallen apart. He’d managed to complete parts 1 and 3 (waiting for the taxi and bringing in the bags), but each time he broached the topic of 2, 4, or 5 (hug, lasagne, and dentist), his parents had diverted the focus back to tonight’s gala. 

The gala was important. There would be investors at the gala. They hadn’t been to a gala in months (4 months, in fact, given that was the last time they were home). They would make new connections at the gala. They would need Tim to be on his best behaviour at the gala. The gala was important. 

Tim just needed to get the gala over with. Then, surely, he could move onto steps 2, 4, and 5. He wasn’t even really that fussed with 2 and 4 now. He could live without a hug. He didn’t really need dinner. But unfortunately, he did need the dentist. He had denied it long enough. There was something incredibly wrong with his mouth, and ignoring it was impossible.

He had tried, while his parents got ready and he unpacked their suitcases, to mention it. It hadn’t been a success.

“Mom, I was just wondering if you could book me a dentist appointment—”

“That’s hardly necessary. You just went to the dentist. Now could you pass me the hair spray?” Janet had replied with a bobby pin in her mouth and curlers in her hair. 

“Actually, mom, it’s been a couple years since I went, and studies show that children who don’t go to the dentist are significantly more likely to get cavities.”

“Well, you aren’t most children Timothy. You’re responsible.” 

“It’s just that my mouth hurts pretty bad, actually—”

“We can get you some Ibuprofen for that, or I might have some something prescription in my purse. I think I might have some codeine. Here,” she said, rummaging through her bag and handing him a bottle of pills. “Take this.”

“Please, mom—”

“It’s not the time, Tim. I’m busy.”

“But–”

“No buts. Also, take a breath mint. Your breath smells terrible.” 

His father had been even less of a success. 

“Dad, I’m sorry to bother you, but–”

“Timothy, apologizing gets you nowhere. A man needs to be strong. Firm.”

“Dad, please book–”

“Pleases are for people who don’t think they can get what they want.”

“I need to go to the dentist.”

“Dentists! A waste of money if you ask me. Just looking for the insurance money. Always trying to fill things that don’t need filling or charging for x-rays. A load of crooks, all of them. Just like a client at our last showing, now that was a crook! Can you believe that he tried to bargain for less than 2 million for…” 

His father had continued for another 15 minutes about the client, and Tim had been unable to get a single word in. 

At this point, Tim was pretty sure it was a baby tooth that was the problem, his first molar on the left side to be specific (he had looked extensively into teeth in the last few weeks). He didn’t know what was wrong with it (that was for the dentist to figure out), but he really just wanted it out of his mouth. Surely, if he could just get it out of his mouth, the pain would go away. 

Unfortunately, the gala took priority. 

Janet, dressed in a sweeping gown of emerald with her hair partly curled, had swept into Tim’s room in a tizzy. “You aren’t dressed? Your hair is a mess! At least get your suit out. You should wear the green tie to match your father and me.” 

Then she was gone, Tim’s room in slightly more disarray than when she had entered. 

Okay. 

Tim would get through the gala. 

His tooth would be fine for one more night. 

He just needed to not embarrass himself in front of his parents and all of the other important adults, and then his parents would be proud of him, so he would maybe get to go to the dentist. It sounded like the perfect plan.

Chapter Text

It was not the perfect plan. 

In fact, Tim’s plan very quickly fell apart. 

The McTavert’s property was classic Bristol, and thankfully, not that far of a drive from the Drake’s Manor. Really, they were practically neighbours. It was a large white washed building accented with ornate corinthian columns and an imposing black roof fretted with a wave motif. The arched windows glowed, revealing the throng of exquisitely dressed party goers inside. 

Peering in at the glitz and the glamour, all Tim wanted to do was crawl into a corner and cry. He did not do that. Instead, he held his back straight and shoulders down, walking in with false confidence, trying not to stumble (he felt slightly lightheaded). His Gala Smile™ was plastered across his face, if slightly lopsided because his mouth wouldn’t move properly.  He had needed to change his shirt three times before leaving the house because he kept sweating through them, but in the end, he’d landed himself in a tailored black suit and a green button down underneath. His tie was similarly black, and he’d neatly folded an emerald pocket square. Really, he was just hoping that the black would show the sweat the least. 

“Hors d'oeuvre, sir?” a smartly dressed waiter had asked Tim upon entering through the large doors, and Tim had faintly shaken his head, worrying his voice might sound strange with the swelling. He hadn’t been able to eat anything before, the thought of chewing too much. 

Tim’s parents proceeded to parade him around to a variety of party goers, each more pretentious than the last, and Tim shook hands and nodded where appropriate, but he knew that his head wasn’t in it. His parents kept looking down at him disapprovingly, until Jack finally snapped a short, “Go freshen up son,” and gestured to one of the bathrooms off in the far corner of the room. 

Tim nodded and trudged over to the doors. Maybe he could just hide in the bathroom until the end of the night. Maybe they might not notice. Then the gala would be over, and Tim could go home, and he could take more pain medication, and then maybe in the morning, he could convince his parents to take him to the dentist. New plan.

As he reached the door to the bathroom, feeling better now that he had a new plan, he did a quick look around to check if anyone was looking before slipping inside and locking the door. Then, he slid down to the floor and put his head between his knees. He tried to take deep breaths and just focus on trying not to cry. If Tim cried, then his eyes would be all puffy, and his parents already thought he was embarrassing them in front of all the important people here. He would have to leave the bathroom at some point, and it would truly be unacceptable if he had to walk out of the manor like that. 

Hopefully, it would all be over soon.

Tim wasn’t sure how long he spent sitting on the cold bathroom tiles, but it was long enough that one of his legs had completely fallen asleep when he heard the knock at the door. 

“Yo, are you alive in there?”

Tim jarred himself back to the present. “What?” 

“I said, ‘yo are you alive in there?’. Kid, I saw you go in there like 40 minutes ago. Give me a sign of life.” The voice was a little rougher than his with a bit of an Alley accent, but it was still high enough that Tim was sure it was just another kid. At least pretty sure. 

“I’m alive. No need to worry,” responded Tim, trying to make his voice sound light hearted.

There was a pause. Then the voice replied suspiciously, “Are you sitting on the floor?” 

Quickly, Tim scrambled to his feet, stumbling as the one that had completely fallen asleep gave out to pins and needles. “No, I’m not. Everything’s okay. You can go back to the party now.” 

“Kid, just open the door.”

Reluctantly, Tim did as he was asked. He crossed his arms and tried his best to give the other boy a look. “You’re a kid too. Also, I said I’m okay. Now you’ve seen me, so you can go back to the party.” 

The boy in front of him couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than he was. He had a mop of black hair that had been combed out with a stylish middle part, and his eyes were a pale blue-turquoise that clearly complimented the dark ocean blue of his velvet suit. He looked familiar, but Tim couldn’t quite put his finger on why. While the boy was clearly dressed to impress, his expression was sarcastic and disbelieving, and he looked slightly uncomfortable in the suit. 

“If you’re okay, then I’m Killer Croc. You look like shit.”

Tim quickly looked down at himself in a panic. What was the other boy picking up on? Had other people noticed? The door was open, so what if people were looking in, and they saw Tim looking ‘like shit’, and someone told his parents, and then he would be grounded, and he would never get to go to the dentist. Feeling a little panicked, he acted without thinking. He grabbed the other boy’s collar (the velvet was really soft), and dragged him into the bathroom, shutting the door. 

“Hey! What was that for?”

Tim was still panicking. “Uh, my name’s Tim.”

Complete disbelief shot across the other boy’s face. “Okay… I’m Jason. Now why the hell did you pull me in here?”

“Well, you were making a scene, and I just sort of… I mean, what if people saw?”

Jason rolled his eyes and looked offended. “Saw what? Us talking? Look, I know everyone thinks that I’m just ‘Brucie Wayne’s latest charity case’ or whatever, but fuck right off. I was just trying to help.”

This was Jason Todd-Wayne, Bruce Wayne’s newest adopted son? As in Robin II? His literal hero? And this was the impression that Tim made? Jason had only recently joined the Wayne house and taken over Dick Grayson’s place as Robin (not that Tim was supposed to know that), and Bruce had been mostly keeping him out of the public eye, so Tim had only really seen Jason coming and going from school through his binoculars and out as Robin with his mask on. That’s why he looked familiar. He’d just insulted Robin. 

It was the final straw. 

A sniffle. A choke. Then full blown waterworks. “I’m so sorry, Jason. I didn’t know it was you. I really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. My tooth is just so, so sore, and I’m so sorry.” 

Suddenly, Jason put both hands on his shoulders, which forced him to look up. “Hey, hey, it’s all good. You’re all good. Deep breaths.” 

Tim tried to take deep breaths. Jason started rubbing circles on his back, and it felt really nice even if it was super embarrassing. He was crying in front of Jason Todd! He let out a final sniffle, and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I’m fine now, Jason. You can leave me here, now.” 

“Listen, Tim,” said Jason in a reassuring tone. “I’m not leaving until you let me know what’s wrong. You said something about your tooth?”

“It really is fine!”

Jason just gave him a look. 

“I just have a tooth ache is all.”

“Just a tooth ache?” Jason gave him a disbelieving look. 

Tim sighed. Well, he might as well tell someone if his parents won’t listen. The worst thing Jason could really do was tell them about his tooth, and, in Tim’s defence, he had told them already. They just hadn’t really listened. “I’ve had a tooth ache for about a month. It’s pretty bad, and I don’t feel good. That’s it. For real.”

Jason searched his face for any more deception. “Now that you mention it, you actually look kinda sweaty. You sure it’s just a tooth ache?” Jason reached out and touched Tim’s forehead, and the cool hand felt amazing. “Shit, I think you might have a fever dude. So like seriously, what’s wrong with your tooth? Why didn’t your parents just take you to the dentist?”

Tim tried to give him his very best Gala Smile™. Spending time with Robin was his literal dream, but talking was starting to hurt his jaw. “They just haven’t really been around lately. They’ve been busy with work, but my housekeeper looks after me. I’m sure they’ll take me to the dentist soon now that they’re back. You really don’t have to worry. I’m just going to sit here until I can go home.” 

“Your housekeeper looks after you, huh? And she didn’t notice your massive swollen mouth? You know you’re kinda talking weird right?”

“Not that weird.”

“Nope, it’s kinda weird, like muffled, and your face is sorta bulgy on one side. I’m not buying it. It’s super obvious that you’re a mess, and literally anyone paying any attention would notice.” Tim was about to protest, before Jason continued. “But whatever. It’s your business. We all make due; like, I get it. Sometimes we just have to deal with shit ourselves. Adults aren’t always reliable.” 

Jason crossed his arms, giving Tim a knowing look, and maybe Jason did know actually. It was public knowledge that Jason had lived on the street before being taken in by Bruce Wayne, so he was probably used to being independent like Tim was. Even though Tim was obviously in a different situation (obviously) because he had two parents who probably loved him at least a little with a property all to himself and food deliveries, but maybe they did have something in common. Jason might really get it.

Suddenly, Jason’s face broke into what could only be described as a ‘shit eating grin’. “Hey Tim?”

“Yes?”

“Want to do something about that tooth now?” 

“Umm…” And in that moment, Tim gave it a thought. How likely was it that his parents would take him to the dentist? How long would it actually take? What if it took a few days before they actually made the appointment and then he had to wait another week to go in? His parents would already be gone by then, and Tim wasn’t allowed to go to the dentist himself yet. The dentist would ask questions, and then he didn’t know what would happen. Obviously, Tim wasn’t legally allowed to be home alone yet, although he was mature enough that it was fine, but the state would look at it as criminal neglect, and his parents would be very disappointed in him if he tarnished the Drake Family name with a DCPP call.

Tim wanted that tooth out. He wanted it out now. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

What am I doing? Tim thought to himself as he was dragged through the gala hall in and around the swarm of fashionably dressed guests. Jason had him by the hand and was expertly navigating the crowd, occasionally saying an “excuse me”. He was moving so fast that Tim could hardly keep up. It was only the training from all his late nights following Batman that kept Tim on his toes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his parents laughing with a prestigious Gotham judge, not having noticed Tim’s sudden departure. His mother was a bit unstable on her feet, and his dad was talking so loudly that he could make out some of the words. They were obviously drinking, so that meant they planned on staying late. Good. He would have time. 

Jason managed to get them to the other side of the hall where there was an archway blocked with a red velvet stanchion rope clearly meant to keep guests from going into the private family areas. They paused for a minute, and Tim wasn’t sure what Jason was planning next. Guests clearly weren’t allowed anywhere else in the manor, and neither of them lived there. It was a dead end. 

Jason looked around, noticing something apparently. 

“So do you live around here, Tim?” 

“Uh, yeah. I mean yes. What does that have to do with–”

“Tim.” Jason looked at him meaningfully, and then glanced over to a waiter that was walking close by. They were acting! 

“Right. Uh, well actually, Jason, we’re neighbours, so I live basically as far as you do.”

“Wait really?” 

“Yeah, I’m Timothy Drake. I live at Drake Manor which is right next door to the Wayne Manor – well, right next door as in further down the street because the properties are so large, but–”

“Wait, we’re actually neighbours? You aren’t just making shit up?”

“No, we’re neighbours.”

“Huh.” Jason put out his hand with a bright smile. “Well, nice to formally meet you, neighbour.”

Tim shook Jason’s hand, blushing a little. “Nice to meet you too, neighbour.” 

Jason looked back to the waiter who had now passed. Then, still holding Tim’s hand, he ducked under the rope, dragging Tim down with him. 

The two boys dashed down the hallway, taking a couple quick turns before stopping, Tim out of breath. “Sorry, I’m still not really feeling very well.”

“No sweat.” Jason checked that no one had followed them. “Okay, so I’ve never been here before, but we want to find, like… the kitchen or something. We ran a decent ways into the house, and hopefully no one saw us, so we should have time to come up with a real plan.”

“You don’t have a real plan?”

“The plan is to get that tooth out, Timmy.”

“It’s Tim.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The two boys walked, no longer hand in hand, through the empty corridors. They were brightly lit with dark cherry wainscoting and a white wallpapered top, and thankfully, a maroon carpet lined the hardwood floor, making it easier to sneak around quietly. They each took turns peeking in through the doors, some of them locked, until finally they came across an archway that led into a kitchen. 

Tim was so hungry, and being in the kitchen reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything since the broth at lunch. 

While Tim was feeling a bit sorry for himself, Jason had started opening and closing drawers, clearly on a mission. He was taking things out occasionally and laying them on the kitchen counter: ice cubes, a string, paper towel, dishcloths, and a first aid kit. He got pretty excited actually when he found the first aid kit under the sink. 

“Okay Tim.” Jason looked at Tim with a serious expression. “Now, I want to ask again because you can still say no. Do you still want me to try to pull out your tooth?”

Tim really didn’t, but he also felt like he didn’t have a choice. Not to swear or anything, but heck, he had already tried to pull it out himself. He was pretty sure it was a bad idea, but the tooth needed to come out. What if his parents didn’t take him to the dentist? What if the pain never went away? What if the infection spread and then he died all alone in his house and no one even noticed and then he got eaten by rats? Desperation took hold.

Tim took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“Alright then. So here’s the plan. I’m gonna try and just yank it out myself first. Maybe I’m strong enough to just pull it. I’ll use the paper towel to cover my hands, and then I’ll shove some gauze in your mouth to stop the bleeding. Then we put pressure on it, and you can have the ice.”

Tim nodded. 

“If that doesn’t work,” Jason continued. “Then we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way. I got one of my wiggly teeth out like this once when my old man got annoyed that I was wiggling it too much, and I’ve definitely had things that hurt worse. It’s the classic string and door method. We tie the string to your tooth on one side and then the other side, we tie to the door. Then I slam the door shut, and your tooth comes out. Easy. Then we do the same thing with the gauze and the pressure and the ice.”

Tim nodded again. 

“Are you still on board? We really don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you wanna chicken out, like it wouldn’t be chickening out is what I mean–”

“I’m not chickening out!” Tim insisted. 

“Okay! You aren’t chickening out!”

He’d done lots of dangerous stuff before, and this was just like climbing down the trellis. It was scary, but it was the only way. He wanted to chicken out, but he wasn’t going to. This was what it meant to be independent. Jason understood. 

So they got to work. Tim didn’t want to wreck his suit, so he decided to take off the shirt, tie, and jacket. Then, when he was sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, Jason draped some of the dish clothes over his chest and his pants to hopefully cover him up when he started bleeding. This was going to work – Tim could feel it. 

“Sorry,” Jason said, looking reluctant. “It’s going to be a bit weird, but I’m going to have to look in your mouth, so like, say aaah or whatever.”

“Aaaaah–”

“Oh my god Tim your mouth is fucked!” 

Tim quickly closed his mouth, almost biting Jason’s hand. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I mean that it’s fucked! Seriously, how are you just walking around like that? Have you not looked?”

“I really didn’t want to look,” Tim said sheepishly. “I know it’s swollen and puffy, and my whole jaw hurts.”

Jason made a sharp laugh. “Yeah, no shit it hurts! Holy shit, kid, what the fuck–”

“You know you should really watch your language.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “What are you going to do, tell on me?” 

“I just mean–”

“So we need to take this tooth out though. Like it needs to come out so bad, Tim. I still can’t get over how fucked your mouth looks.”

Tim nodded, his jaw hurting when he did so. “So are you going to try and yank it then?”

“Yup. Open up again, Tim. I’ll see if I’m strong enough and can get a grip on it.”

Tim opened his mouth up again, and he felt Jason’s paper towel covered hands inside his mouth. It was kind of gross, but he had watched Jason wash his hands. 

“Ready?”

Tim made a noise of agreement, his mouth still wide open. 

Then Jason grabbed this tooth, and Tim screamed. He tried to make himself stop screaming, but he’d never felt worse pain in his life. It was blinding, and his vision went out for a second. 

The tooth didn’t come out. 

“Fuck, shit, sorry, do you think anyone heard us?” Jason asked, looking back and forth between Tim and the door. 

Tim had started crying. “I don’t know. Let’s do this quickly then. I really want this out, and if they come, then they’ll try and stop us.”

“Right, yeah, okay, yeah, right, yeah, okay. Okay, yeah. Right.” Jason was breathing heavily, but he started to assemble the rest of the supplies. He tied the knot to the door to the pantry, then got Tim to move the chair closer to the open pantry door. He quickly tied a knot to the door knob, then gave Tim what he was sure was supposed to be a reassuring look but mostly looked terrified. “I’m going to have to do the knot inside your mouth now. Sorry Tim.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Tim, still sniffling. They had to do this. It was the only way. “Just do it fast before we chicken out. And really Jason… Thanks for this.”

Jason swallowed. “Yeah, no problem.” 

Then Jason took the end of the string, and Tim opened his mouth as wide as he could. There was a strong sense of fear in him that made him want to close his mouth, but he was brave. He could do this. Then, he wouldn’t have to wait for his parents to fail him. 

It really hurt when Jason tied the sting to his tooth, but it paled in comparison to the yank from earlier, and it’s not like Tim wasn’t already crying. He was past the point of caring about tears. He’d only met Jason less than an hour ago in person, but he felt like they had bonded over this. Tim was sure that after he left the gala, Jason would forget all about him and they would go back to being stranger/neighbour and Robin/Photographer, but right now, Jason was a friend. He was the best friend that Tim had.

“Okay Tim. I’m really sorry, but this is going to hurt.”

Tim closed his eyes, and the door slammed shut. 

Blinding pain shot across his body, and he knew that he was screaming. He could hear Jason cursing, and running for the gauze. He knew that the gauze was being crammed into his mouth and that Jason had his hand crammed in trying to put pressure on the hole, but all he could really think about was the white hot pain. He felt blood running down his chest and could feel as Jason hastily arranged all the towels to contain the blood and try to protect his pants. 

“What is going on?”

Tim opened his eyes, and ohmygodBatmanisrightthereandtheyareinsomuchtrouble .

Chapter Text

Objectively, the scene could have been taken straight out of a horror movie just as easily as a comedy film. 

Tim sat in the wooden kitchen chair, shirtless, covered in eight dishtowels and drenched in blood. His mouth was still gaping open, blood pouring out from where Jason had his hand shoved inside, desperately shoving gauze into the bleeding hole where his molar had been. The rotten taste of blood and whatever else had been in under his tooth were filling his mouth, and he was desperately trying not to choke on it or swallow any of it. Jason was clearly panicking, eyes wide and hands frantic, covered in Tim’s blood, and Tim was, in fact, still screaming bloody murder, the sound a bit bubbly from all the blood in his throat. He wanted to stop – he really did – and then Bruce Wayne (Batman!!!!) had rushed into the kitchen, in complete black-tie formal wear. 

“Bruce, I was helping, I swear!” Jason shouted, grabbing another first full of gauze and shoving it into Tim’s mouth, muffling the screaming. He was also crying. “I was helping!

“Jason…” 

“I swear!”

Mr. Wayne’s expression went from a look of shock to a look of compassion as he walked slowly over to Tim and knelt down beside him. Tim was equal parts terrified and star-struck being in this close proximity to the man. He finally made himself stop screaming, but the throbbing pain was still definitely there. 

“Timothy Drake?” Mr. Wayne said in a calm voice, the kind of he’d heard Batman use with victims. 

Tim hesitantly nodded his head, moving Jason’s hand along with it.

“Jason, you can probably take your hand out of his mouth now. Timothy here is going to bite down to keep the pressure going. Do you think you can do that Timothy?”

Tim nodded his head again and wiped some of the tears out of his still crying eyes. 

“Bruce, it’s Tim not Timothy,” Jason mumbled, taking his hand out of Tim’s mouth and going to wash it off in the kitchen sink. 

“Do you prefer Tim?”

Tim nodded. It actually maybe hurt a bit less to nod now that some of the pressure from the infection was gone. 

“Did you really ask Jason to do this, Tim? You can answer honestly. You won’t be in trouble either way.”

“He did–” Jason insisted.

“I wasn’t asking you Jason. Tim, is this what you wanted?” Mr. Wayne asked, kindness in his deep voice. 

Tim nodded again weakly, tears falling harder now. 

“I know that your parents are here, Tim. Do they know where you are?” He was still kneeling on the floor, and Tim could see that he was getting blood on his knees. This was terrible. He was ruining Mr. Wayne’s pants, and his parents were going to be so disappointed in him. 

He shook his head.

“Do you want me to find them for you?”

He shook his head “no” more emphatically, trying to plead with his eyes. Please Mr. Wayne, don’t get my parents.

“Okay. Well, we can’t exactly stay like this, now can we?” Mr. Wayne stood up. “Jason, report.”

Suddenly, Tim knew that he was looking at Batman and Robin instead of Bruce Wayne and Jason. 

Jason cleared some of the tears from his voice. “I found Tim in the bathroom. He had signs of a fever and infection in his mouth. He said his parents were out of town for weeks, so no one had noticed that he was so sick. They just got back, and they didn’t even notice. Tim wanted the tooth out, so we snuck inside. I tried to yank it out, but the attempt was unsuccessful. The second attempt, with the door, was a success. That’s when you walked in.”

“Why didn’t you ask for help, chum?”

Jason shuffled his feet, looking down. “I dunno. Forgot I guess.”

“You’re allowed to ask for help, son, when you need it. You always call for back up. Understood?”

Jason looked up and made eye contact with his adopted father. “Yeah, understood.”

Mr. Wayne gave a smile. “We’ll work on it.” Then, he turned his soft expression onto Tim, and Tim almost started to cry again. “Let’s see what I can do. Tim, I know it might be scary, but can I look inside your mouth? I’m going to need to take the gauze out just to see.”

Tim really wanted to please Mr. Wayne, but the idea of opening his mouth again was terrifying. He did it anyway because today was a day of doing terrifying things. Gradually he felt some of the gauze removed (Batman had his hand in his mouth!) so that he could close his mouth a little, and when Mr. Wayne took the final piece out, he grimaced. 

“Well, Jason was right about the infection. I’m definitely not a dentist, but let’s see if I can improve this at all. Jason, can you pour Tim here a glass of warm water?” Jason started moving. “Tim, can you stand up and come over by the sink? I’m going to have you rinse your mouth out before we put in some new gauze. Try to avoid the spot where the tooth was.” 

He felt a bit lightheaded getting up, but Mr. Wayne’s steady hand on his back helped keep him upright. Then, Tim took the glass of water from Jason and rinsed his mouth. Mr. Wayne didn’t let him spit (something about clotting), so he just sort of let it pour out of his mouth. Not having as much of the gross taste in his mouth was definitely helping though.

The whole time, Mr. Wayne was saying things like, “You’re doing such a good job, Tim,” and “There you go son. Just like that,” and once again, Tim felt the tears spring to his eyes. His parents had never said anything like that to him before. 

“Is it hurting any worse now, Tim?” Mr. Wayne asked, clearly noticing the tears.

Tim shook his head and rinsed his mouth a second time. 

“Okay, well, let’s get you more comfortable and see if we can stop the blood.” He folded up a large piece of gauze and gave it to Tim to press in the hole where his tooth had been. The folded gauze was much more comfortable than the wads of gauze Jason had shoved in his mouth earlier were. “Now, I need you to hold that pressure for at least the next ten minutes. I’ll go get you some ice.” 

As Bruce walked over to the McTavish’s giant fridge, not noticing the ice Jason had already taken out, the reality of Tim’s situation started to settle in. He could be in so much trouble. Mr. Wayne was an adult, and he would probably tell Tim’s parents, and then they would be so disappointed in him. They were going to come into the kitchen and see the mess he made and all the blood everywhere and the blood on Bruce Wayne that came from his mouth, all because he couldn’t deal with a lousy tooth infection. Then Mr. Wayne would realize that he had been home alone, and the State would find out, and his parents would get charged, and he wouldn’t be able to stay there, and his parents would hate him, and he wouldn’t be able to photograph Batman and Robin anymore at night, and then what was even the point in any of it all–

“Tim?” a soft voice said. 

Bruce was kneeling down in front of him again, holding a bag of ice wrapped in a dishcloth and a stack of wet dishcloths. 

“We lost you there for a second chum. Can I give you this ice to put on your cheek? Do you think you can hold it there to help with the swelling?” 

Tim nodded pathetically. 

“Now, I know you’re still holding the gauze to your mouth, which I still need you to do, but do you think that we can maybe get you cleaned up while we wait?”

Tim nodded again. He could probably talk really awkwardly with the gauze in his mouth, but he really didn’t want to. He was too ashamed and too worried and too frustrated and just too much. Also, Batman couldn’t interrogate him if he couldn’t talk. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop, but I am going to take off the dirty rags, okay?”

Tim had forgotten about all the dishclothes Jason had covered him with. He looked down, saw all the blood, and then he really wished that he hadn’t looked. Actually, where was Jason? He glanced around for him, only to find him sitting dejectedly at the table. Tim felt bad. As soon as he was talking, he would clear everything up and make sure Mr. Wayne knew it was his fault not Jason’s. Tim was going to get in trouble regardless, so there was no need for Jason to get in trouble too. 

Once the rags had been removed, Bruce held out the wet dishcloths. “Now Tim, are you okay to wipe the blood off your chest or would you like help?”

Tim shrugged, and Bruce gave him a cloth. 

“Well, you just let me know if you want me to take over. You’re doing great.”

So Tim went about wiping himself down. Luckily, Jason’s mass dish towel approach had been relatively successful, so nothing got onto his pants. At first, the cloth just seemed to smear the blood around, but gradually, he noticed progress and his chest started to look clean enough. When one cloth got too dirty, Mr. Wayne just silently handed him another one, until finally he was pretty clean, or at least clean enough. 

What Tim didn’t understand was why Mr. Wayne was being so nice to him. Tim had clearly run off where he wasn’t supposed to and gotten Jason in trouble. They had made a giant mess, and they had probably ruined about 30 dishcloths. If it had been Tim’s parents that found him, he definitely would have been scolded, and he could imagine what his mother’s sharp approach to rubbing him down would be like. It wouldn’t be this type of gentle reassurance. 

“Tim, you’ve been really brave. Do you feel comfortable putting your shirt and jacket back on? I think the bleeding is controlled now.” 

Tim nodded again. His shirt and jacket were over by Jason on the table (they had put them there before Jason started so that it would stay blood free – a success), so he ended up going and sitting down next to the other boy. 

The moment Tim sat down, Jason looked up and gave him a wry grin. “I guess our plan was only a medium success then. So close, yet so far.” 

Tim shook his head, and gave up the silent treatment. “Nu, you hehwpd me ow big dime. Seeusly–” Tim tried to explain with his mouth still full of gauze. “I stiw don tink dat my pawents woulda taen me to da dentice, and you hehwpd me eben dough you knew you could ged in dwouble.”

As Time explained, some of the tension seemed to leave Jason’s face. “Well, then they’re assholes–”

“Language,” Bruce scolded.

“–fucking assholes then.” 

A sigh from Mr. Wayne.

“For real, Tim,” Jason continued. “Your parents had the money to take you to the dentist. You shouldn’t have even had to worry about this shit. I would do it again if I had the chance. I just hope your mouth is fine. Also, sorry about the whole pain and blood thing…”

“Nu!” Tim insisted emphatically. “I’m sowwy fow scawing you. Nowmally, I would be beddaw at being quied, and it was me dat god us in twouble. Peez Jason, fowgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive, Timbo. No need to talk either. I know your mouth probably feels like ass right now, and no offense, it’s kind of hard to understand you.”

Tim laughed through his nose and nodded. Then he realized he still hadn’t put on the shirt, so he quickly put down the icepack and did his best to change and look presentable. 

Obviously, the dress shirt was still sweaty and more wrinkled than he would have liked, but by the time the jacket and tie were on, Tim actually felt like he was pretty put together. Maybe they could actually get away with it. Maybe his parents didn’t need to know, and it would all be okay. 

Mr. Wayne cleared his throat, which drew Tim’s attention. 

“Tim, I can clear this up with the McTavish’s staff, but I’m going to have to talk to your parents about this. You’ll need a course of antibiotics with an infection like that.” As Mr. Wayne spoke, Tim felt his whole body go numb. No. “I understand that you didn’t want to get them right away, but they will probably be worried about you.”

Tim hardly felt his body stand up, the chair screeching on the floor. “Nu! Mr. Wayne, peez!” he begged. 

Mr. Wayne looked sympathetic, but still, he said, “Just Bruce is fine, Tim, but I’m sorry – not saying anything isn’t really an option. As the responsible adult in this situation, I can’t in good conscience leave you to face a serious infection alone. You need medical care.”

And in that moment (it was barely a moment), all of the worst possible outcomes flashed before Tim’s eyes. His parents’ frustration. His parents’ disappointment. His parents’ refusal. His parents’ anger. His parents’ shame. His parents’ disinterest. His parents’ dismissal. His parents couldn’t know. And in a moment of panic, for once not thinking, Tim shouted, “Ip you tew dem, I’w tew ebewyone dat yow Bapmam and Wobin!”

Oh no.

His eyes went wide and he immediately started to apologize (“I’m sowwy, I’m sowwy–), all the words still coming out mumbled in the gauze, the tears immediately returning.

“I didn’t tell him, I swear!” Jason exclaimed, pointing dramatically at Tim. “It wasn’t me!”

Mr. Wayne (Bruce (Batman!)) walked over to him, and gently led him back to the chair that he’d been sitting in. “Tim, I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply, but I don’t think the kitchen of the McTavish’s Manor is the place to have this conversation. Clearly, you’re upset, and we should just go see your parents so that you can go home.”

Tim grabbed Bruce’s sleeve with one hand and yanked the gauze out of his mouth with the other. He pulled Bruce down, and whispered in his ear, in some manic moment of confidence, “I’ve known since I was nine back when Dick was Robin. Please don’t tell my parents. Can you just get me the antibiotics? One secret for another secret. It can be like a business deal. We can shake on it.” Then Tim crammed the gauze back into his mouth, worried the bleeding might start again. He pleaded with his eyes. “Peez.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “You need medical care urgently.”

“Les’ jus’ go now. My pawents won’ notice I’m gone. Dey neba dew.” 

Bruce appeared to be thinking it over, but Tim really couldn’t read his expression. Tim watched in tense anticipation. Bruce still hadn’t confirmed or denied the accusation, but he could clearly tell Tim’s certainty given that he was even thinking about it. Maybe this really would work out! 

“Fine. Jason and Tim, let’s go.”

Tim smiled from behind the gauze. Batman had a new plan. This time, it was sure to work.

Tim could not believe that Bruce’s plan was working! 

Bruce had doubled back into the main gallery and bribed one of the staff to clean up the kitchen without alerting anyone. Their cover was that Jason and Tim had gotten into a fist fight, hence all the blood, but ‘Brucie Wayne’ didn’t want any of the tabloids reporting on his ‘delinquent son’. Tim wasn’t sure how much the bribe was, but he could tell that the stack of bills passed over was quite large. 

Then, the man had helped them to sneak out of the manor through a back entrance so as not to disturb the rest of the party goers, or let Tim’s parents onto the fact that he had snuck off. Bruce informed him that he had a doctor friend who would see them, even at this time of night, so that’s where they were headed. 

Their butler, an older British man named Alfred who had called him Master Timothy, had picked them up by the back entrance in a discrete black car, and the three of them had quickly slid in. As Tim settled into the black leather seats, doing up the seatbelt with a ‘click’, he felt something inside him start to settle. 

Since Bruce had arrived to find Tim screaming covered in blood with Jason’s hand shoved in his mouth, Tim had not had a plan. Nothing had been going how he had planned it out. While Bruce’s plan was clearly in motion, Tim had a completely different agenda to Bruce, given that Bruce was only doing any of this because Tim had blackmailed him; meanwhile, Tim’s entire life could be falling apart. 

Now, though, Tim finally knew all of the variables in this situation, and there was a moment to think. That meant he could finally devise a new plan to get out of this situation. 

Timothy Drake’s Plan For Not Getting In Trouble

The Variables:

• His tooth was (finally) out. 
• He was out of the gala. 
• He was going to a doctor friend of the Wayne’s. 
• He had told Bruce that he knew he was Batman. 
• He knew that Bruce was suspicious that Tim was alone too often. 
• He was in a car. 
• His parents were still at the gala getting drunk. 
• The gala would end at some point. 

The Challenges:

• He needed antibiotics. 
• He needed to get back to the gala without his parents noticing. 
• He needed Bruce to trust that he wouldn’t reveal the true identities of Batman and Robin. 
• He needed Jason to maybe forgive him if he was mad at him (although Jason hadn’t said he was mad at Tim, but he also hadn’t said anything to Tim, but also Bruce was there, but also Tim was getting off track – he just really hoped Jason would still be his friend). 

The Plan:

• He would see the doctor and get antibiotics so that his infection would heal. 
• He would reassure Bruce and Jason that he admired them and didn’t want to reveal their identities. 
• Then, he would rush back to the gala to see his parents before they went home and noticed that they’d lost him. 
• Hopefully, if his plan was a success, everything would go back to normal, and Tim’s parents would leave again.

Possible Tactics (in no particular order):

• Play dumb
• Apologize 
• Smile™
• Remain calm

Tim took a deep breath, feeling a lot more confident. He had a plan again. Everything would work out.

“Yo Tim! You’re totally spaced out, my guy.”

“Sorry Jason.” Tim had replaced his large piece of gauze with a smaller one, so it was easier to talk. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be mad at me because of the whole… secret.”

Jason guffawed. “Alfred totally knows, Timbo! No need to be all hush hush in the car. Also, I never get to talk about the cool shit–”

“Language.”

“–stuff, sorry Alfie, I do as Robin with kids that aren’t Dick or Dick’s friends, so this is sick!”

Bruce sighed from the front seat. “Jason, we spoke about this. In the instance that someone learns of our identities, it is important to never confirm their suspicions in order to leave ourselves plausible deniability.”

“Okay, but Bruce! Tim isn’t an idiot. He said he found out back with Dick was Robin! He’s clearly known for a long time… Also Tim’s cool.” 

Tim didn’t think anyone had ever called him cool before. 

Another sigh. 

“Tim, but seriously though, my guy, how did you even figure it out?”

“Only Dick Grayson can do a quadruple flip.”

“So it was Dick’s fault!” Jason exclaimed, giving himself a high five. “That means I’m off the hook!” 

Alfred spoke up from the front seat. “We will be arriving at Dr. Thompkins’ clinic in approximately 5 minutes, Master Bruce.” The streets of Gotham were a blur as the car wove through the streets. Surely, the old man must have been breaking multiple speeding regulations, but Tim couldn’t help but be impressed with his ability to navigate. 

“Good, thank you Alfred.” Bruce turned his attention over to Tim. “Tim, if you’ve known for over a year, why did you not say something earlier?”

What Tim couldn’t say was that if he told anyone, then he risked losing his late night photography sessions. “What you both do… it’s important. And Robin is magic. I couldn’t take that away.”

Jason smiled and gave him an elbow to the side. “That’s my line. You’re stealing my line, kid! Trying to replace me now?”

Tim’s eyes went wide. “What? No, what? How could I–”

“I’m just kidding. I felt the same way seeing Robin before… well, just before.” Jason gave a tight smile. “They’re big boots to fill.”

Tim tried to give Jason an encouraging look. “I think you’ve done great so far, Jason. I really mean it.”

“Ha! Well, it’s not like you really get to see me in action, so…”

“HAHAAHAAHA Nope! Definitely not!” Cue the Gala Smile™. Don’t be suspicious. 

“Tim…” Bruce said from the front seat. 

“We have arrived, sirs.”

“Tim, we will be returning to this point of conversation after Dr. Thompkins checks you out,” Bruce informed him as they all stepped out of the car and into the clinic. 

Dr. Leslie Thompkins was a white haired older woman who Tim realized very quickly was good at her job. She determined that Tim had a tooth abscess which should (cue the Look™ at Tim and Jason) have been removed by a dentist in a sterile environment with proper equipment and anaesthetic. However, she relented, the tooth had come out clean, and it was fortunately a baby tooth, meaning an adult tooth would eventually grow in to fill the empty space. Tim was prescribed an antibiotic, pain medication, and a prescription mouth wash to keep the wound clean. She also confirmed that the bleeding had stopped enough that Tim no longer needed the gauze unless he re-opened the wound. 

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how long they were in the clinic, but thankfully, Dr. Thompkins seemed just as eager for them to leave as Tim was to get back to the gala. 

Alfred had the car still waiting for them when they exited, and they once again, filed in quickly. 

So far, the plan was working out. Soon, it would be all over. 

“Tim, when have you seen Batman and Robin in action?” 

First tactic. Play dumb. “What do you mean, Mr. Wayne?” Tim tried to cock his head in confusion to play up the act. 

“Tim.” 

Second tactic. Smile. “I’m a huge fan! I watch Batman and Robin on the news, and sometimes I see photos.” Bruce didn’t need to know that those were two separate ideas unrelated to each other.

“Tim…”

Oh no. Third tactic. Apologize. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Wayne. I don’t know what you want me to say, but I’m really sorry.” 

“Please, Tim. It’s Bruce. I know you don’t entirely trust me, but I need to know. It’s important if there are flaws in our security measures.” Bruce’s tone was serious but so earnest, and he clearly wasn’t giving up. 

Tim was running out of ideas. It was time for the fourth tactic. Stay calm. “It’s really no big deal, Mr.– Bruce. I just sometimes go out to take photos of Gotham, and I’ve seen you a couple of times. It’s just a hobby of mine, sir. Really, it’s nothing.”

Jason chimed in, “Can I see the photos? What’s your camera like? Did you get any of me doing cool tricks? I wanna see ‘em if you’ll let me.” 

“Yeah, I can show you them, Jason. They’re alright, I guess, and I did get a couple with Batman and Robin, but I promise! I won’t risk your identity, and they’re just for me to look at. It’s just a fun thing I do sometimes, and it’s really not a big deal.” He turned to look at Bruce. “It’s really not a big deal.” 

“How old are you, Tim?” asked Bruce.

“I’m ten.”

“You’re ten.”

“Yeah, I turned ten in July.”

“Do your parents know that you go out at night to take pictures in the city, Tim?”

Oh no. Backtrack. “Well, it’s not always at night.”

Bruce raised a singular eyebrow. “It must be at night sometimes if you have photos of Batman and Robin.”

Oh no. Backtrack more. “Only a couple! Mostly, they’re just of the city. Gotham is a beautiful city, you know, when you know where to look.”

This time, it was Alfred who spoke up from the driver’s seat, speaking in an all-knowing British old man way that Tim had never heard weaponized before. “Master Tim, as someone who has helped to raise three boys, I must say that, while your obfuscation techniques are advanced for someone of your age, the farce is most definitely up. Please, just tell us the truth.” 

True defeat washed over Tim. It was useless. How did he expect to lie right in front of Batman? Batman was literally the world’s greatest detective. Maybe he should have just let Bruce tell his parents and risked their disappointment. 

“My parents have never noticed that I sneak out to take pictures because they’re not home very often. Mostly, I just take care of myself, but I’m really independent, so it’s okay, I promise,” insisted Tim with desperation. “Please, I promise that I look out for myself, and I would really never want to risk your identities. Even if you had told my parents, I never would have gone through with the blackmail.”

“Thank you, Tim,” replied Bruce kindly. “You’re a really special kid, did you know that?”

Tim spluttered. “No, really, I’m not anything special! There’s really… no need to make a big deal or anything… Loads of people probably would do the same…” 

“No, son. They really wouldn’t,” Bruce said in a sad and somehow knowing voice. 

Tim turned away and looked out the windows, watching the lights of Gotham’s nighttime skyline pass them by. The lights and the architecture that normally gave him comfort weren’t quite evoking the same feeling they normally did inside him. He felt seen in a way that was uncomfortable, and there was something in Bruce’s expression that seemed to be dismantling the way that Tim had always looked at his life. 

Tim was independent. He was reliable. He was self-sufficient. He was ten years old, and ten year olds didn’t need help – he was practically an adult at this point.  It was better that Tim was alone; he was used to it. 

Or at least… that’s what he’d always thought. 

“Tim, you’re a smart kid,” Bruce said, in the softest voice he’d heard yet. “You know that your parents shouldn’t leave you home alone, and you know it’s not safe alone at night in Gotham. You’ve been really brave, and I can see that you handle a lot of hard situations all by yourself, but you’re still a kid. There should be adults there to help and take care of you. It’s an injustice that you have to do it all on your own.”

The words went in his ears, but they couldn’t quite make it to his head. What Bruce was saying went against everything that he’d ever known, every idea he had about his life, but… Tim could also see the truth in it. But if it was true, then… What did that say about his life, his parents, his existence?

So Tim decided to use the final strategy that he had in his arsenal, one that he’d forgotten in his plan. Silence. 

He went back to looking out the window. 

Tim’s parents loved him. He knew they did. When they were home, they took him everywhere with them — museums, galleries, galas, activities, business meetings, the zoo. He thought about the times his mom held him in his arms, and the times his father sat him down to share stories from their trips. He knew that most families were together all the time, but they were his family, and this was his life. It was all he had.

It was all just too much. 

Tim was done. 

The rest of the ride back, Jason kept trying to engage Tim in more conversation, clearly noticing how he’d withdrawn, and Tim so wanted to engage with every fibre of his being except also every fibre of his being had taken a trip and left him behind just like his parents did. Even Tim had left Tim behind. 

When they did reach the gala again, sneaking in through the back just as they had left, Bruce tried one final time to reach Tim.

Bruce knelt down to Tim’s level. “Tim, can you look at me, son?” 

Reluctantly, Tim made eye contact.

“I know that today was a lot to take in, but I want you to know that if you ever need help again, I will always come to help you, and if you’re home alone, there are lots of extra bedrooms at Wayne Manor. I know that Jason would enjoy the company.”

Tim tried to give a smile in return, but it felt half hearted. How could he really believe that if his own parents didn’t feel the same? Why couldn’t he have just dealt with the stupid tooth by himself? Then he wouldn’t be feeling this way or thinking these things.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

With that, Tim started to walk away, back to his parents, and the loneliness, and the disappointment, and the silence, and what would soon be an empty house, until the back collar of his shirt was yanked backwards. 

“Nope!” Jason declared, jumping in front of Tim. “That isn’t how this shit ends, Tim. We’re fucking blood brothers now–”

“Blood brothers means we both had to bleed, Jason.”

“Well, I say you bled on me, and I made you bleed, so we’re blood brothers.” Jason crossed his arms, daring Tim to challenge him, and frankly, Tim didn’t have the energy in him. “Blood brothers means that you can’t just leave and go back to being all alone. When your parents go back to Kalamazoo or whatever, you’re staying at the Manor with me, and we’re gonna hang out, and you’re gonna like it. So deal.” 

Tim stared deep into Jason’s determined eyes, and for the first time in his life, Tim truly felt someone staring back. Jason was seeing Tim, and he wasn’t letting him fade away. He thought back to the first moment when he decided to trust Jason because Jason knew what it was to be independent too. Maybe they could be independent together.

Taking a deep breath, Tim smiled. Not a Smile™ – just a normal smile. A real one. One that melted some of the panic in his heart. “Okay, Jason. Whatever you say.”

“Whatever I say is damn right.”

Taking a bit of a risk, Tim tentatively reached out and, only hesitating for a second, wrapped his arms around Jason, his new friend, and held him tight. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jason said, hugging him back. 

After their dramatic goodbye, Tim rushed back to the main ballroom, only to find that his parents had hardly shifted from their position earlier in the evening. They were clearly more drunk, and the group of important people was a different group of important people, but the image was virtually unchanged. They were smiling and laughing and enjoying the night.

They truly hadn’t thought to worry for Tim. 

It was just a fact. 

“Hi mom. Hi dad,” said Tim as he arrived at his parents’ side. “I’m feeling a lot better now, and I’m incredibly sorry for my behaviour earlier. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh, that’s good dear,” replied his mother, not glancing down. “These here are the Blooms and the Singhs, and they both invest in the local art scene. We were just discussing a potential new gallery space on the Upper West Side down by the University, and how…”

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Tim was shuffled around, occasionally the conversation starter to humanize the deal, and for once, he didn’t actually mind as much. He kept occasionally making eye contact and grinning with Jason who was mostly spending the rest of the evening at the catering table. Every time he felt himself fade completely into the background or his own head, there was Jason, making a stupid face at him from across the hall – like he had some kind of sixth sense for Tim’s withdrawal. 

The Wayne’s left before Tim did, and thankfully, Bruce, true to his word, didn’t tell his parents. It really all did go according to plan. 

When the Drakes finally got home, just after two in the morning, Tim locked up the house, helped his parents stumble to their bedroom, and tucked himself into bed. 

The evening had been objectively one of the hardest nights of Tim’s life, but thinking back on Bruce’s kind words and Jason’s smile, Tim had never felt less alone. 

+Bonus+

Tim didn’t know how long he had been asleep for, but a noise startled him awake. After essentially living by himself for so long, he’d become quite a light sleeper. The clattering was coming from the window. Tim was almost too scared to turn, to face the intruder unlatching his window from the outside. On any other day, he would have jumped up, but to get broken into after this day? After everything that happened? Tim clearly had the worst luck. 

With fear and trepidation, Tim rolled over in his bed, only to see a dark form slinking right up to him. He let out a scream that was quickly muffled by a gloved hand over his mouth. “Shhh I’m the tooth fairy!” 

“Oh my god, Jason!” Blinking the rest of the sleep out of his eyes and trying to calm his heart rate, there was Robin (Jason) leaning over his bed, a grapple gun in one hand (the other being forcibly removed from Tim’s face). “What are you doing here?” Tim whispered.

“We forgot your tooth at the McTavish’s, so you won’t have it to put under your pillow. Duh!” Jason replied as if it was obvious, making himself comfortable on the edge of Tim’s bed now that it was clear Tim wouldn’t freak out again. 

“I’m not five. I know the tooth fairy isn’t real.”

“Shhhhh!” Jason tried to shove his hand back over Tim’s mouth, and he shoved it away. “You blasphème!”

“Seriously Jason. What are you doing here? You’re going to get us both in trouble. What if my parents hear?”

“Wait, your parents are actually here?”

“Yes!” 

“Oh,” Jason let out a sigh. “Then I guess I could have just given you the tooth for under your pillow. Like I could have broken into the gala again and gotten the tooth.”

Tim looked at Jason like he had grown two heads, and Jason simply rolled his eyes.

“You know, so you can get your tooth fairy money! Duh!” 

Now it was Tim’s turn to roll his eyes. “Jay, my parents haven’t done that since I was six. Also, they don’t even know I lost one.”

“Okay, then. Original plan then,” and Jason’s face lit up. He took out a tiny pink plastic wand from his utility belt. “Go back to sleep, Timmy. I’m the motherfucking tooth fairy.”

Tim looked at Jason completely dumbfounded. What even had his life become in the past twentyfour hours? However, after staring at Jason’s expectant face, he gave up, rolled his eyes, and pretended to go back to sleep. 

Then, Jason, humming a little tune to himself, slipped what was clearly a coin under Tim’s pillow. “You’re stuck with me now, Timbo, whether you like it or not.” Jason booped Tim on the forehead with the wand, and Tim snorted. 

As Jason (Robin) walked back over to the window, clearly about to leave again, Tim just felt his entire heart fill with affection. Maybe things really would be different from now on.

“Thanks Jason. You’re a pretty great friend.” 

“I know.” 

Then Jason jumped out into the night sky, and Tim went back to a much more peaceful sleep. Maybe Tim really didn’t have to be alone anymore.