Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim sighed as he looked over his assignment. 

Tim’s class had been tasked with interviewing someone they admired. 

His teacher had explained the assignment earlier that day. “A parent, a sibling, a teacher,” (she emphasized the last example rather obviously), “It can be any adult in your life. Just pick three questions from the list I handed out, conduct your interview, and write a one-page paper about what you learned and why you admire them. Make sure to finish by Friday.” 

The list included questions like: What do/did you do for work? Do/did you enjoy what you do for work? What did you want to be when you were little, and is it different from the job you have/did have? Why did you pick the job you have now/did have? Who is someone you admire? What was your favorite subject in school and why? 

Tim was typically a very good student. He usually had no trouble understanding math problems, reading chapter books, and always completed his assignments on time. He was the only eight-year-old in fifth grade for a reason, after all. But, despite his usual ease when it came to his education, this assignment was completely stumping Tim. 

If Tim’s parents were home, he would definitely interview one of them, especially since a lot of the questions from the list revolve around work. Tim’s parents love talking about their jobs. Questions from Tim are usually answered in some form of annoyance or exasperation unless Tim is asking about their line of work. They really love their jobs, which is why they’re always away instead of at home. Which Tim completely understands, of course. Tim isn’t really supposed to call them unless it’s an emergency, and Tim doubts this can really be described as urgent. Tim’s dad had gotten really mad when he called because the water heater had broken, telling him that he was old enough to figure it out by himself instead of interrupting them. Their work is really important, so Tim understands. He did end up figuring it out, anyway. So, Tim really doubts a couple of questions for school would constitute a phone call to his parents. 

It’s not like Tim has any siblings, either. And with all due respect to Mrs. Jones, his teacher, Tim wouldn’t say that he really admires her. She’s an alright teacher, but she has constant coffee breath and Tim doesn’t want to talk to her on purpose if he doesn’t have to. Maybe he could ask their housekeeper, Mrs. Mac? She only comes to the house on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and today is only Tuesday. And Tim does admire her… even if she has a tendency to ramble. Tim once asked her what kind of frosting she used on some cupcakes she once brought over, and she proceeded to tell Tim a long-winded story of how she once got food poisoning from a bakery in Iceland where she went on vacation for her thirty-year marriage anniversary. Tim never found out what kind of frosting it was, but he had nodded along to her story anyway (the entire 40 minutes it took her to finish it).

On second thought, maybe not Mrs. Mac. 

Tim thunked his head down on his desk, letting out a groan of frustration. All in all, it’s clear that Tim is rather… lacking with a steady adult in his life, which is probably his fault somehow, anyway, so he shouldn’t complain. When he picked his head up, his vision was level with his window. There wasn’t much to see, just the gardens out back, his mother’s rose bushes lining the property, and Wayne Manor in the distance. Tim sat up completely straight as a thought struck him. 

Batman. 

Batman, also known as Bruce Wayne, also known as Tim's absolute favorite hero, lives in Wayne Manor, next door to Tim. 

He could interview Batman! 

Tim has no idea why the idea didn’t come to him sooner. He’s known the identity of Nightwing, along with Robin and Batman, for two years now. He discovered their identities after seeing Robin do a quadruple somersault, which only one person in America can do, and that person is Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson is Nightwing now, and Jason Todd is Robin, and their dad is Batman. And Tim really doesn’t admire anybody more than he admires Batman. Don’t get Tim wrong, he loves his parents, but Batman is so cool. And besides, it’s not like Tim really has anyone else to interview. 

Plus, if the students in his class find out that he got to interview Batman, they might think that Tim is cool, too. Maybe they’ll even want to be friends with him. 

Mind made up, Tim grabs the list of interview questions that his teacher handed out, along with a notebook and a pen to take notes. He shoves all his supplies into his backpack, swings it over his shoulder, and marches out the front door. 

The trek to Wayne Manor is about fifteen minutes, twenty-five for Tim to compensate for his short legs. On the way there, he rehearses how he will approach Mr. Wayne for an interview. He wouldn’t want to disappoint his parents by being improper, especially to Batman of all people. He knows he looks smart, still dressed in his school blazer and slacks, but he needs to sound smart too. His mother always said that he was undignified when he talked too fast, so he had to make sure that he sounded nice and proper. 

After what felt like ages of walking, Tim finally reached the front of Wayne Manor. He stood on his tip-toes to reach the doorbell before stepping back and smoothing out the front of his blazer. 

He heard a “I’ll get it!” from inside, and a few seconds later, Jason Todd opened the door. He looked confused for a second, before he looked down and saw Tim. 

“Uh. Hey. Are ya lost?” He asked, not unkindly, but obviously still confused. 

Tim shook his head, unable to stop the smile forming on his face. He was talking to Robin. “No, sir, I’m not lost.” 

Jason smiled. He knelt down to Tim’s level. “You don’t gotta call me sir, just Jason is fine. What’s up then? If you’re not lost?” 

Tim smiled bigger. “My name is Timothy Drake. I live next door. I was wondering if I could interview Batman for a school assignment. Is he home?” 

Jason’s smile dropped. He seemed to look confused, then scared, then confused again, before landing on some mix of worry and alarm. 

“Um. Why do you think Batman lives here, kid?” 

“Because Batman is also Bruce Wayne and Bruce Wayne lives here. Is he not home? I can come back another time.”

Jason swallowed. “Um. No–, I mean he is, I mean he’s home, not that he’s Batma—um.” He coughed. “One second, okay?” He stood up, taking a singular step back into the house before bellowing out, “Dickie!” over his shoulder. He turned briefly back to Tim with a nervous smile. 

“What?!” Someone yelled back from inside. 

“Come here, please!” Jason yelled again, not taking his eyes off Tim this time. Tim gulped, starting to feel nervous. Did he do something wrong? Maybe he should have called ahead. 

Tim heard the sound of someone walking up to the door before Dick Grayson, Nightwing, appeared over Jason’s shoulder. Dick smiled when he saw Tim, opening his mouth to say something before Jason tugged his shirt and started furiously whispering something in his ear. Tim watched as Dick’s face processed through the same emotions that Jason’s did, landing mostly on worry. Tim stood there awkwardly, fiddling with the straps of his backpack and staring at his shoes as the brothers continued their hushed conversation in front of him. He really should have called ahead, scheduled an appointment maybe. 

Tim looked up at the sound of Dick clearing his throat. He had knelt down like Jason had done earlier, and he had a smile on his face. It looked real, not like the ones Tim has to practice in the mirror before his parents take him to their fancy galas. Jason was gone, having seemingly vanished inside the house while Tim was looking away. 

“Hey, kiddo. You’re Tim Drake, right?” He asked, his voice just as warm as his smile. Tim nodded. 

“Yes, sir, I live next door.” 

Dick smiled even wider. “You don’t have to call me sir, kiddo. Just Dick, ‘kay?” Tim nodded again. “I heard you’ve got an assignment for school. Wanna tell me about it?” 

Tim smiled again, clutching the straps of his backpack harder in excitement. “I have to interview somebody I admire! I have a list of questions and everything.” 

“Oh yeah? And who is it that you admire?” Dick asked. He sounded curious and kind in a way that Tim’s parents never were, especially when asking him questions. 

“Batman! He’s my favorite superhero, he’s super cool. Nightwing is cool, too, and Robin, but Batman is my favorite.” 

Dick laughed. It was such a nice sound. Tim loves making people laugh. He can only do it to his parents when they drink a lot of wine. “Yeah, Batman is pretty cool. I’m a little partial to Robin, myself, but I like Batman, too.” 

“Is that ‘cause – I mean because – he’s your dad?” 

“Can you tell me why you think that, kiddo? Did somebody tell you?” Dick asked. He looked worried now, a crease between his eyebrows and his mouth turned down a little. Tim’s stomach dropped. He’s realising now that he’s probably not supposed to know who Batman is, much less waltz right up to his door and demand to interview him. God, Tim was so stupid. 

“I -um, I figured it out. After I saw Robin do a quadruple sommersault, and then Nightwing too, and only Dick Grayson can do that and you’re Dick Grayson which means you’re Nightwing and your dad is Batman.” Tim rushed out. “Um, but I haven’t told anyone! I promise! I just figured it out by myself and I love Batman and I really wanted to talk to him because I can’t interview my parents and he’s so cool and I’m really sorry.” 

Dick held up his hands in front of him, a gesture to try and calm Tim down. “Woah, baby bird, easy. It’s okay, you’re not in trouble. You must be pretty smart to have figured that out by yourself, huh?” Dick asked. He was smiling again, so Tim must have done something right. “Why can’t you interview your parents?” 

“Oh, they’re in Ethiopia for work and I’m not supposed to call them unless it’s an emergency.” 

Dick nodded. “Oh yeah? What about your nanny? Can you interview them?” 

Tim scrunched up his nose at the thought of needing a nanny. He’s eight years old, he hasn’t needed a nanny since he was six. “I don’t need a nanny. I’m very mature, I even skipped two grades already.” 

Dick’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “So, you’re home alone? No one watches you while your parents are away?” 

Tim shook his head, “No, sir – I mean Dick. My parents said I don’t need a nanny since I’m so smart.” 

Dick nodded his head like he agreed, but he had that crease between his eyebrows again, like he was thinking real hard. He shook his head after a second, replacing the confusion with another smile. He leaned in a little closer like he was about to tell Tim a secret. “You know what? I think I can get you that interview. What do you say? Wanna come in?” 

Tim’s eyes grew wide as he bounced up and down on his toes. He knows he’s not supposed to do that, that his mom says he looks uncivilized when he does it, but he’s so excited that he can’t help it. “Really!? I can interview him?” 

Dick laughed again, the second time that Tim has made him laugh. “Really. C’mon, let's go find him.” He spreads his arms open, still smiling. Tim knows he’s too old to be picked up, but this is Nightwing offering to carry him. Nightwing is offering to carry Tim to Batman! Tim rushed into Dick and was promptly scooped up into a pair of strong, warm arms. The way Dick wraps his arms around him makes it feel more like a hug than being carried. Tim can’t remember the last time his parents hugged him. It feels so nice that Tim can’t help but hug back tightly, smashing his face onto Dick’s shoulder. 

Dick rubbed his back for a second, still standing in the doorway. After a second, he let out a deep breath and walked into the house. “Alright, baby bird, I've got you. Let’s go find Batman.” 

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne has taken an immense amount of time, effort, and money in making sure that no one suspects his secret identity as a vigilante. 

In public, he plasters on his best interview smile and charms his way through interviews. Brucie Wayne is clumsy, aloof, an airhead. On the surface, he runs his company with the air of a man who had accidentally stumbled into the office. He is kind, extraverted, easy to talk to. He embarrasses his sons in public by flirting with reporters, tripping over his own feet, by pretending not to know the value of his own stocks. He has had many snowboarding accidents. He is generous with his wealth, giving large chunks of it away, seemingly at random, to homeless charities, women’s shelters, public libraries and schools. Brucie Wayne is an airhead, but he is kind. 

Batman is quiet, doesn’t smile. Just the name Batman is known to strike fear into even some of the biggest, most nefarious criminals in Gotham. Batman is smart, a detective. He knows how to follow even the smallest of breadcrumbs of evidence to crack his cases. He is meticulous, even obsessive, in bringing justice to his city. 

Brucie Wayne and Batman are polar opposites and Bruce has made sure of it. He has made sure that even the idea of Brucie Wayne and Batman being the same person is simply unthinkable. 

Which is why, when his youngest son bursts into his study, shouting, “Someone knows who you are!” Bruce flies into a panic. 

He stands up from his office chair, the paperwork he had been working on immediately forgotten. He takes in his son’s appearance. Jason is breathing heavily, like he had run here from somewhere else in the manor. His eyes are wild, his cheeks red with exertion and fear. 

Bruce swallowed his own panic. His son was afraid and fixing that was his first priority. He circles his desk and comes to a stop in front of Jason. He’s still breathing heavily, and Bruce kneels, putting his hands on Jason’s shoulders. 

“Jason, breathe, it’s alright.”

“It’s not alright! There’s a kid out front asking to talk to Batman!” Jason exclaims, becoming even more agitated. Bruce took a deep breath. 

“Okay. Who is with the child?” He asks. He rubs his hands up and down Jason’s shoulders, keeping his voice even and steady, even as his heart hammers away. 

“Dickie’s talking to him right now. He said he lives next door, Bruce!”

Next door? No one in any of the surrounding mansions had young children, besides the Drakes, and they have been out of the country for the last two months. Ethiopia, if he remembers correctly. He had seen the Drakes at a gala a while ago, and they had told him about their trip. 

“Did he tell you his name?” 

Jason’s brow furrows, trying to remember through his panic. “Um, I don’t know. Something Drake. Theodore or Tyson or something.”

Bruce matched his expression, becoming more confused by the minute. “Timothy?” 

Maybe the Drakes had returned from their trip earlier than expected? But then, how would their son know about Bruce’s identity? Did Jack and Janet figure it out? How? Could they be using their son to lure him out? Blackmail? 

Jason nodded, his panic coming back once again, pulling Bruce out of his own spiraling thoughts. “Yeah, Timothy! Bruce, he was like ‘can I interview Batman for school’ and I was like ‘um Batman doesn’t live here’ and he was all like ‘yes he does because this is Bruce Wayne’s house and Bruce Wayne is Batman’ and then I was like–” 

Bruce cuts him off. “He asked to interview me? For school?” 

“Yes, Bruce, God! And then I got Dick and then he told me to come get you while he talks to the kid.” 

Bruce is absolutely bewildered. A child coming right up to his door and asking to interview Batman for school. Not just any child, but Timothy Drake. How on earth could the Drakes have found out? Sure, Jack and Janet are bright people, but of all people to figure out his secret identity? And why send their son? Why make him ask to interview Batman? It was childish, foolish, made no sense. Unless… unless Timothy himself figured it out? That was impossible. How old was that kid anyway? He had seemed so small at the gala Bruce last saw him at. 

He takes another deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opens them, his son is staring right back at him, his face contorted in worry. 

“Okay, chum, it’s alright. I’ll talk to him and get this all sorted, okay? You did good coming to get me.” He stands back up to his full height, knees popping, and pulls Jason into a hug. The boy huffs, still on edge, but he wraps his arms around Bruce anyways. He’s growing so fast, already twelve years old. Bruce kissed the top of his head, mourning how he didn’t need to bend down as far as he used to. 

Their hug is interrupted by a knock at the office door. Jason immediately pulls away from Bruce and rushes to open it. Standing there is Dick, Bruce’s oldest. In his arms, Bruce can only assume, is Timothy Drake. He has his face pressed into Dick’s shoulder, facing away from Bruce and Jason. Timothy is small, smaller than Jason had been when Bruce took him in. He wracks his brain for his age. He could have sworn that the Drakes mentioned that Tim had just recently turned eight, but that couldn’t be right. He was so little. He’s wearing a backpack that seems to be two-thirds of his entire height. Dick is wearing a sheepish but pleased smile as he holds Tim, running his hand in circles on the child’s shoulder. Bruce feels a wave of fondness for his eldest. Dick loves being a big brother, and he’s good at it. There’s a reason that Nightwing is usually tasked with comforting any scared children they come across on patrol. 

Dick clears his throat. “Bruce, this is Timothy Drake. He came by to interview you for a school project. And since his parents are out of town, and he doesn’t have a nanny, I figured it was okay.” 

Bruce could see the anger flashing in Dick’s eyes when he emphasized the fact that Tim was home alone. So, the Drakes were on a trip. They had just left their child alone. Without a nanny. Bruce felt a flicker of anger in his heart. He met Dick’s eyes with understanding in his own. He nodded. 

“Of course that’s okay. Why don’t you and Timothy sit down?” 

Dick carried Tim over to one of the plush chairs in front of Bruce’s desk, taking Tim’s backpack from the boy and placing it on the ground before sitting down with Tim on his lap. Bruce decided to sit down the chair next to them, shifting it so it would be facing them, figuring that sitting behind a desk would appear too intimidating. Jason shared no such qualms, as he took Bruce’s office chair behind the desk, spinning it once before he focused. 

Dick shifted Tim so he wasn’t hiding in his shoulder, facing him towards Bruce, his back against Dick’s chest. Dick wrapped his arms around Tim, putting his chin gently on top of Tim’s head.

As soon as Tim saw Bruce, he broke out into a large smile, one that Bruce couldn’t help but reciprocate. The kid was adorable. 

“Hello, Mr. Batman. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Bruce smiled even wider, his heart melting. If there was one thing that Brucie Wayne and Batman had in common, it was that they both loved children. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Timothy. Did you walk over here by yourself?” 

Timothy nodded. “Yes, sir. I live over there.” He pointed a tiny hand in the direction of Drake Manor. “I came here to ask if I could interview you for a school assignment.” It was frankly adorable to watch a tiny child speak with such confidence, further emphasized by the little blazer he was wearing. He must have come here right after school. 

Bruce nodded back at him. “Of course you can interview me, Timothy. But would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions, first?”

Tim nodded seriously, his smile disappearing. He worried his lip in between his teeth, obviously nervous. 

“It’s alright, kiddo, you’re not in trouble.” Bruce soothed. “I just wanted to ask why you think I’m Batman. Did your parents tell you?” 

Tim looked confused now, shaking his head. “N-no sir, my parents didn’t tell me.”

“Okay, that’s alright. Who told you, then? Was it another adult?" 

Tim shook his head again, somewhat desperately. “No one told me, Mr. Batman. And I haven’t told anyone either! I just figured it out when I was little and I wanted to interview you since I have to interview an adult and I don’t know any adults besides my parents and Mrs. Mac and they’re not home! I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” 

Tim’s eyes were filled with tears now, bringing himself closer and closer to panicking as his breathing picked up. Dick tries to soothe him, running his hand through Tim’s hair. “It’s alright, baby bird, No one’s mad, you’re not in trouble. Why don’t you tell Bruce how you figured it out? I bet he’ll be really impressed with you.”

As Tim tried to get his breathing under control, Bruce said, “He’s right, Tim. You’re not in trouble, I just wanted to hear how you found out. Did you figure it out by yourself?” He kept his voice gentle, the voice he used to soothe Jason after nightmares and used to comfort Dick when bandaging his wounds. 

Tim nodded, his eyes still teary but no longer breathing heavily. “Uh huh, I um, I figured it out when I was six and I saw Dick Grayson do a quadruple somersault and then Robin also did a quadruple somersault so I knew they were the same person.” He took a deep breath. “And since Dick Grayson was Robin that means his dad was Batman. An-and now he’s Nightwing and Jason is Robin.” He sniffed, wiggling further into Dick’s arms. 

Dick had the decency to look embarrassed as Jason’s mouth dropped open and Bruce’s brain short-circuited. Timothy figured out all of their identities when he was six? All of the effort and time he spent trying to make sure that Bruce Wayne and Batman were completely separate, completely different individuals, and Timothy Drake figured it out when he was six? He breathed deeply, trying to get ahold of himself as he looked at Tim. Even through his internal panic, he couldn’t help but smile as he looked at him, small and comfortable in his son's arms. And there was no one to look after him. This tiny, intelligent, polite child was just alone in a big mansion with no one to care for him. Bruce couldn’t stand the thought of it. 

“That’s really impressive, Tim. You must be very smart. Can you remind me how old you are, again?” 

“I’m eight, Mr. Batman.” 

Bruce chuckled. “You can just call me Bruce, chum, it’s alright.” He cleared his throat, preparing to be as gentle as possible. “Now, Dick mentioned that your parents are out of town. Do you know when they’ll be coming back?” 

“Um- I think they said three months this time, and it’s only been one–no wait- two months, so they’ll be back in a few weeks.”

Bruce nodded, trying to steady himself through the waves of anger and confusion that ran through him. How could they stand to leave their child for that long? And Tim said ‘’this time’ ? How many times has this happened, while Bruce wasn’t even a mile away? How could he have missed this? 

“Okay. And who watches you while your parents are away? Do you have a nanny, or a babysitter?” 

Tim cocked his head to the side, confused, and Bruce resisted the urge to coo. “No one needs to watch me, Mr. Bruce.” He puffed his chest up, appearing about one percent bigger than he usually was. “I’m eight years old. My parents said I’m very mature for my age so no one needs to stay at home with me.” 

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a surge of absolute contempt towards the Drakes flood his veins. A glance towards both of his sons proved they were feeling something similar. Dick looked forlorn, his hand returning its steady motions through Tim’s hair, seemingly finding the act as soothing as Tim. Jason, however, looked absolutely outraged. 

“Eight? And your parents left you alone? No offense, dude, but you’re like, two feet tall! Can you even reach the kitchen counter? Or the washing machine?” 

Tim looked like he took great offense to this. “I’m not a baby. I have a step-stool!”

“If you need a step-stool, maybe you shouldn’t be home alone!” 

“Jason.” Bruce warned. Jason huffed and crossed his arms, throwing himself further into the office chair. Tim looked a mix of offended and confused, like he had no idea why anyone would possibly be confused as to why his parents left their eight-year-old home alone for several months. 

“Tim, do you know your parents phone number? I think it would be best if I tried to get in touch with them.”

Tim gasped, his eyes filling instantly with tears again. “No! No, please, please don’t call them!” He wiggled out of Dick’s grasp, running over towards Bruce. He put his tiny hands on one of Bruce’s knees. “Please don’t call them, Mr. Bruce! They'd be so mad if they knew I came over here! If they knew I was bad they won’t come back! That’s what they told me!” 

Bruce leaned down and scooped Tim into his arms, bringing him to his lap. “Shh, it’s alright, Tim, it’s okay. I won’t let you get in trouble with them, I promise. I’ll sort everything out, okay sweetheart?” He brushed a large hand across the back of Tim’s neck, feeling the way Tim clenched a little fist in the front of his shirt as he gasped into his neck, obviously choking back tears. “It’s okay, Tim, I promise.” 

Glancing over Tim’s head, Bruce looked at his two sons. They looked about how Bruce felt: sad, angry, and already so very attached. He could see the question in their eyes, he knew what they were asking because he wanted it too, wanted so badly to never let this boy go back to being alone again. He nodded at them. Jason and Dick broke out into wide grins, Dick smiling past his own tears and Jason past his anger. 

Bruce pulled Tim back from his shoulder. He looked at him, his large blue eyes and dark hair, how small and thin he was. 

“Hey, Tim. How do you feel about a sleepover tonight?” 

….

Tim had ended up being excused from writing his paper, as well as the rest of his schoolwork for the next few weeks, given that a sudden change in custody and a court case against the Drakes caused Tim quite some stress. 

However, Tim asked his teacher if he could complete the assignment anyways. Only this time, he interviewed Bruce Wayne. Not as Batman, but as his new foster parent. Someone he admired.

Chapter Text

“Alright, buddy. Are you ready?” 

Tim nodded seriously, bringing his notebook closer to him on the table. He clicked his pen before looking at the paper next to him, analysing the pre-written questions. His tongue poked out in concentration. 

Bruce resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks, instead sitting down across from Tim in the small nook in the kitchen, folding his hands neatly in his lap. It had been nearly a month since Tim first showed up on his doorstep, asking to interview Batman for a school assignment. He hasn’t left since, and Bruce is already prepared to do whatever it takes to make sure he never goes back to Jack and Janet Drake. 

In all the chaos that came with Tim moving in, they never ended up doing the interview. Bruce saw to it that he be excused from some of his schoolwork for a while, not wanting to add on to the stress that came with being suddenly placed into emergency custody with the Waynes.

It had been worryingly easy to get clearance for Tim to stay with him. He had expected more of a fight, from both the foster care system and the Drakes themselves. But after the state realized that Tim didn’t have any living relatives, they placed him in Bruce’s care, figuring that it must count for something that Tim came over to the Manor on his own accord, along with the fact that Bruce had a valid foster license. (After Jason, he had made sure to keep it updated). The Drakes had elected to finish their dig in Ethiopia rather than come home and fight for their right to keep their son. It had taken an ungodly amount of time to get ahold of them in the first place, and now there is an absolute mess of bureaucratic red tape that stands in the way of being able to bring them back to New Jersey on any charges. It was exasperating, insanely angering, and Bruce was exhausted. But that’s how Bruce felt, he couldn’t imagine how Tim feels. Which is why he made sure that Tim had a break from any responsibility while he got settled. 

But school has been the one consistent thing in Tim’s life, and he had been really excited to conduct the interview. Tim asked his teacher if he could still do it and turn it in, and she had agreed. And there was no way that Bruce was going to say no to him, not when he looked up at him with huge blue eyes and proposed the question like a very tiny business man, asking to interview him as himself rather than Batman (The change did not slip Bruce’s notice, and he might have teared up a little before agreeing immediately).

Tim cleared his throat, his pen poised for taking notes. “What do you do for work?” 

Bruce smiled. “Well, I’m the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises, which means that I have to make some pretty big decisions about what goes on with the company.” 

Tim nodded, his pen scribbling, even though Bruce was positive that Tim knew all of this already. “What kind of decisions?” 

“Well, I work with a lot of people to decide what to do with our resources and time, like what we should invest in, what we do with our profits, which parts of Gotham to direct our money to.” 

Bruce propped his chin on his hand, gazing at Tim. His notebook was filling up with childish handwriting, his brow furrowed and tongue poking out again. He glanced up, seeing Bruce peeking at his writing, before scowling and wrapping a protective arm around his journal to hide it. Bruce chuckled, averting his eyes and taking a sip of coffee instead. 

Tim looked up. “Do you like your job?” 

Bruce smiled wider. “I do.”

“Why?”

“Well, I like to think that we make a difference in Gotham, or at least we’re trying to. I like being able to help people who need it.”

Tim’s pen scribbled again. “Why did you decide to do your job?” 

Bruce took a deep breath. “Well, after my father died, the company was passed down to me. He really wanted to help Gotham, in any way he could, so that’s what I try to do everyday.” 

Tim wrote again before pausing, biting his lip. He glanced up at Bruce before his eyes flicked elsewhere. “Do, um, do you miss him?” 

Bruce felt his heart clench, smiling sadly. “Yeah, buddy. I do miss him.”

Tim nodded. He didn’t write that down. He seemed to think about it before glancing back at his list of questions. “Okay, um, last question. Who is someone you admire?” 

“Hmm, that’s a good question.” He thought about it, scratching his head exaggeratedly, succeeding in making Tim giggle. “Well, I really admire Alfred. He raised me all by himself after my parents died. He’s smart, and kind, and he made me who I am today.” 

Tim seemed to agree, writing down the last of his notes quickly. He clicked his pen and looked up at Bruce, his eyebrows drawn together and a frown on his face. His eyes flickered to Bruce’s and away again, obviously nervous. 

“All done, chum?” 

Tim nodded. He took a deep breath, avoiding Bruce’s eyes altogether now, fiddling with the pages of his notebook. “Um, is it…Is it bad if I don’t really miss my parents sometimes?” 

Bruce’s heart cracked in two. “Oh, honey. Come here.” Bruce held his arms open and Tim practically scrambled out his chair to the other side of the table. Bruce helped him climb up into his lap, sitting sideways with Bruce’s arms wrapped tight around him. He brushed Tim’s dark hair away from his eyes, smiling softly down at him. 

“Tim, whatever you’re feeling right now is okay. It’s okay to feel sad, or angry, or nothing at all right now. I know it’s a lot to process.” Tim leaned into Bruce, his head resting on his chest.

“I love them, but, um, sometimes I really don’t want them to come back.” He whispered

Bruce took a deep breath. He felt like he was out of his league, like he was twenty-two years old again and trying to convince a grieving nine-year-old that everything was going to be okay. 

“I know, buddy. I know you love them, and I’m sorry they left. It’s okay if you don’t always want them to come back, I promise. And it’s okay if you do want them to come back. There’s no rules to how you should feel, okay?” 

Tim nodded against his chest. Bruce hugged him tighter. They sat there for a minute, Bruce smoothing Tim’s hair through his hand, until they heard bounding footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Jason flew around the corner, smiling brightly when he saw the pair of them. 

“Timmy! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He strode towards them, holding his arms out. “My turn for Timmy Time, B. Hand him over.”

“We just finished up our interview.” Bruce said, standing up and passing Tim off to Jason, smiling wide as he watched Tim scramble to hold onto Jason's back. 

“Well, we’re gonna do something better than interviewing an old geezer like you. Huh, Tim?” Jason asked, bouncing Tim on his back, smiling when the boy laughed. 

Bruce ruffled both of their hair, smirking when Jason scowled, unable to fix his hair while supporting Tim’s weight behind him. “Alright, you two have fun. Just nothing too destructive this time, please?” 

“No promises!” Jason shouted as he turned around, racing out of the kitchen, Tim laughing wildly as he was jostled along the way. 

Bruce sighed, turning back to the table. He fixed up a few of Tim’s papers, stacking them neatly on top of each other. He grabbed the notebook, intending to flip it shut, when a childish scrawl at the bottom of the page caught his eye. He felt his throat constrict and tears spring to his eyes. 

He helps people. He helps me.