Work Text:
Tim was sitting in the room on the west side of the Manor that he'd taken to using as his own quiet study. He liked it because the sun came in in the evenings, the time he was usually working, and bathed the room in a soft golden light. He was writing up a report on his most recent case and running some calculations on the latest figures from a small pharmaceutical company that had set up shop in Gotham. He was sure they were up to some nefarious scheme, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. There was no convenient new drug flooding Gotham, or even new substandard drugs in pharmacies. He was hoping a look at their budget and spending would help him narrow the field.
He had a fresh can of Zesti and a good new album from his favourite band, Clench. They'd all met on a ward during the epidemic and Tim felt a certain affinity to them. It was to this peaceful atmosphere that Jason Todd, a person very low down Tim's I-would-like-to-see-this-person list, burst into the room.
"There you are! I need to say something to you and you need to hear it so shut the fuck up and listen til I'm done."
Tim rolled his eyes.
"Right, here it is: you need a reality check. You are one lucky bastard and you should thank god or whoever every day for it. Don't believe me? Well-" Jason carried on without giving Tim time to answer.
Tum eyes his laptop and wondered if he could get away on hitting run on his next script. Probably not. What was Jason saying? Tim had no idea what had brought this on. He should probably listen to try and find out. And before he realised Tim wasn't listening and brought restraints or a weapon into things.
"-and here comes the moaning about your sad lonely childhood-"
Tim frowned, sad and lonely? He supposed if Jason was talking about his parents deaths then sad and lonely was appropriate, but he'd been 14. Did 14 count as childhood? Tim thought that was firmly into teenage rebellion, after all - he'd successfully blackmailed Batman by that age.
"-all alone in your big fancy mansion-"
Again Tim wondered why Jason was so focused on his mid-teens. They'd only moved to Drake Manor after his Mom died and he'd certainly never been alone. Mrs Mac the housekeeper was always in, she made sneaking out for Robin duties very difficult. Tim counted his childhood as being spent in the penthouse in Robinson Park. Or in boarding schools.
"-well boo hoo!" Exclaimed Jason with a dramatic flourish. "Some of us had real problems! A bit of loneliness is nothing. I wish I'd just been lonely! When I was struggling and scraping together a life on the streets."
Tim's face was going to be stuck in a permanent confused frown the way this conversation was going. Why was Jason so convinced Tim was some kind of loner? Tim had always suspected, and recently confirmed with statistical analysis, that he had the best work-life balance and civilian social life of any vigilante in Gotham. And Tim totally agreed that Jason had had a much tougher life than him, Tim had been very lucky! Arguably, almost everything traumatising that had happened to Tim was as a result of being Robin. Which had been his own questionable decision, one which Tim could not allow himself to question. It had to have been worth it. It had to. Batman was still here, Gotham was still here, was that all down to Tim? Absolutely not, but a small part of it was and he had to hold onto that. It had been worth it.
"And ok, neglect isnt a walk in the park but its a fucking day out at six flags compared to what I went through, so you should-"
"Jason," interrupted Tim, "what the fuck are you talking about?"
Jason blinked at him.
"You know...." said Jason slowly, then seemed to gear himself up. "Just setting the record straight on our respective childhood trauma, don't want you getting too self pitying in your brogues, rich boy, remember what you went through isn't half-"
"Jason." Said Tim again. "I don't know who told you.... Whatever it is you think my childhood was, but I wasn't neglected."
Jason gave him a slightly condescending pitying look.
Tim graciously ignored it and carried on, "I know what neglect is Jason and unless you think every child in the world that goes to boarding school is neglected then you've got something wrong."
Jason made a face at the words boarding school.
"And I didn't live in Drake Manor till I was 14, I grew up in a penthouse in Robinson Park. Until I became Robin I had a totally normal, very fortunate life. And until my Mom died I was pretty happy for most of it. So unless you count the death of Bilbo the hamster as deeply traumatising, you've got something wrong."
"Oh so stalking vigilantes is a normal childhood activity now? Up there with playing catch with Dad and learning to ride a bike?" Sneered Jason
"What." Said Tim flatly.
"Come on now, don't be shy! It's how you got the job!"
Tim squinted, "If you mean the pictures of Batman I only did that once when I was 13. I wasn't some kind of child paparazzo, hiding in bushes outside Arkham for a sneaky pic of the dark knight."
Jason blinked slowly again, but in a more confused way.
"But...." He said slowly, shoulders slumping as he ran out of steam.
"Again I have no idea where you got this info....Oooooh." said Tim with realisation. "The league."
"What about the league?" Asked Jason, and then, "wait justice or assassins?"
"The latter." Answered Tim and then muttering to himself "3 months.... So november but hm that cant be right maybe 5? Before or after Paris?"
Jason huffed impatiently, "Hellooo? Pretender? What about the league?"
"At some point early in my training Bruce taught me the important lesson of verifiable intel collection. And the counter to it. So to practise laying a false trail I came up with as tragic a backstory as my 13 year old self could. Then with heavy Batman editing to remove all the cool super powers, cerulean orbs and superman-esuqe found magic baby section-"
"I've read that fanfiction" muttered Jason.
"-we might have used it to mess with the intel gathering the league was doing on us?" Tim finished sheepishly. "So any intel Talia gave you on me...."
"Was the work of your over-dramatic, over-active, anime watching imagination?" Sighed Jason. "I hate how much sense this makes." He added under his breath.
"Whoops?" Tim offered insincerely. "I honestly forgot I'd done that. Man, did that draft have the bit where I was actually Bruce's biological son as the result of a torrid affair with my ice queen mother?"
Jason snorted, "No. Was she actually an ice cold, business genius, bitch?"
"Oh no I meant she actually had ice powers in that one, think Elsa. But no she was a totally normal rich suburban mum. I felt really bad about that bit after she died, but now I think she'd find it hilarious."
Jason gave him an awkward pat on the back, then coughed loudly and looked anywhere but at Tim.
"Well....glad to clear that up."
There was an awkward pause before a terrible thought occurred to Tim.
"Oh god - do you think Damian thinks it's true as well?"
Jason stared at him for a beat before bursting out laughing. Tim groaned and miserably lowered his face onto the desk.
"I can never tell him. Either he'll be so made that I pulled one over on him that he'll kill me straight off the bat. Or he won't kill me, but in a few years once he's been thirteen he'll realise its a golden blackmail opportunity and then I'll have to kill myself."
Jason laughed harder, he lowered his head to the desk as well but with shoulders shaking in mirth instead of abject misery.
"Jason. Jason I'm serious you can never tell him. Ever. I'll do anything please, please Jason."
"Tell me what?" asked Damian, appearing from nowhere, just like his father.
"FUCK!" Said Tim, and then too quickly, "Nothing! Tell who what? What? Who said that?" Only to lower his head back to the desk in even more abject misery. He was never living this down.
"Well handled." Said Jason. Like an asshole. "Real subtle, it's almost like you've been trained in subterfuge and situational awareness."
"Shut up." Mumbled Tim. "Leave me here to die."
Damian's eyes flicked between them, "I will find out, Drake. Unlike you I have been trained in spycraft by the greatest spies on the planet. Your paltry training-"
"Which your father gave me." Said Tim, still collapsed miserably on the desk, but unable to resist the easy shot.
"-Your paltry understanding of subterfuge training." Carried on Damian without missing a beat.
"Unbelievable." Muttered Tim.
"Will be no match for me. I will uncover your secrets and I shall expose your shame to Father and you will finally be given the regard you deserve in this household. Which to be clear for your tiny brain-"
"Yes, yes, is nothing, I will be cast from the household for the shame I bring on the ancestors etcetera, etcetera." Tim interrupted.
"Wow," said Jason, observing this interaction. "You two are like an episode of Downton Abbey, why Tim have you done something scandalous like get a divorce?"
Tim rolled his eyes at him and Damian sneered which was his usual response when he knew he was being insulted but didn't understand the insult enough to respond to it.
"Be quiet." Damian, now aimed in Jason's direction. " You are also not fit to be part of this association with your madness and uncouth ways."
"Uncouth?" Jason crowed with delight. "I can be couth! I'll couth you right up! In fact, I'm so couth that your Mom-"
Tim heard Damian give an inarticulate cry of frustration, followed by the familiar sound of furniture being violently disturbed. Tim, thankfully, had started making his escape as soon as Damian's attention had slipped to Jason. With any luck the resulting skirmish and dressing down from Alfred would distract them both. Another win to Tim. Now he was off to the batcave to update his league document and false trail. He could come up with something better now, he was sure of it. Maybe he'd give himself some sort of dramatic magic curse this time.... He wandered off pondering his new and improved dramatic fake backstory.