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Tim sat at his desk in his room in Wayne Manor, he’s there because he likes his personal space. Dick is there too, because it just so happens he also likes Tim’s personal space.
It’s not that Tim minds, in fact Tim loves his adoptive family, not like he’ll ever say it out loud. Dick, he especially doesn’t mind.
Only child Richard Grayson took on the role of ‘older brother’ shockingly well. Tim’s only gripe was that he is a tad overprotective. Okay, let’s be honest, he’s a lot more than a bit overprotective, but it’s hard to hold that against him after what happened to Jason. And as annoying as it is, Tim finds endless comfort in knowing his brother will always have his back, no matter what.
He’s still fucking annoying though.
“Timmyyyyyyy, are you even listening?”
Dick has been yammering about something for a while, probably the Titans, he really loves those guys. Tim is much the same in that way, Very few people matter to him more than his team, once again, not that he’ll ever tell any of them.
“No, sorry, zoned out.” Tim says, focusing on his computer.
“What are you even doing anyways?”
“Trying to choose which photos to hand in for my portrait project, it’s due tomorrow.” Tim explains while indecisively scanning and comparing two nearly identical photos.
Dick’s face lights up.
“Oh! Is this the same one you had me and Jason pose for?” He asks, and by “had us pose for” he means, he struck a bunch of unnecessary poses and Jason just stood still and looked forward like Tim had directed them to do.
“That’s the one.” Tim confirms.
“Then let me help!” Dick springs from his spot on the floor and shoves Tim’s roller chair half way across the room with an amount of energy Tim could only dream of matching.
“Fine, you can look through that file, and only that file. I’m going to go grab a cookie, want one?” Tim asks, half way out the door; he already knows the answer.
Alfred is the best baker, no questions. Tim would, and has eaten entire batches of cookies before anyone else could have even one. That day was the first time he’d ever gotten the look from Alfred, and he’s never felt so terrified since.
The kitchen is quiet when he finally makes it down the massive staircase.
He swipes two triple chocolate cookies, deciding that the bigger one will be for himself.
If Tim hadn’t gone through months of endurance training to become Robin there’s no chance he’d make it back up the stairs.
Really, who needs this many stairs?
Bruce Wayne, that's who. Leaving Tim to suffer.
“I’m back, decide on which photos I should submit?” Tim announces, walking into his room and setting the smaller of the two cookies down beside Dick’s elbow resting on the desk.
Dick’s lack of response is concerning, Tim looks over his brother’s shoulder and feels his face heat up.
“Dick, the one thing I told you not to do was snoop through my other folders!”
He smacks his older brother upside the head, and Dick just laughs in response.
The file he now has open is labeled “patrol”, and though Tim should probably have a separate camera if he wants to take pictures of his friends and family in suit, he can’t be bothered.
Dick clicks further through the photos, and Tim doesn’t try to stop him, the damage has already been done.
He clicks through photo after photo of himself, mostly. Tim takes a lot of pictures of Nightwing, because Dick has just always been photogenic like that. Some are of the vigilante perched on roof tops, others are action shots taken mid acrobatic feat and in all of them Nightwing looks so incredibly cool. Too bad Tim can’t show them off.
There’s photos of Redhood too, usually with his bike and dramatic lighting. There’s a few pictures of Batgirl, fewer still of the Bat himself.
And as Dick scrolls through photo after photo Tim realizes he takes a lot of pictures of his YJ teammates. And to Tim’s misfortune, Dick seems to realize the same.
“Wow, Timmy, you sure do take a lot of pictures of Superboy don’t you?”
Well, he’s not wrong. Kon, much like Dick is very photogenic, always looking to impress anyone watching, pulling off fancy flips while flying and always sporting his big dumb smile, it’s impossible not to snap a photo every now and then.
“God, don’t tell him. His ego is big enough as it is,” Tim sighs into his hands, hiding his face.
The look Dick gives him is all too knowing.
•
•
•
Team bonding has never been Tim’s thing. At first it was because Batman was so overly strict about secret identities that it made it seem like Tim didn’t trust his own team, in effect, they didn’t trust him either. Nowadays, it’s more like Tim just can’t seem to be normal in casual settings. He can put on a show during a gala, act the part of one of Bruce Wayne’s many charity cases, a grieving kid he so kindly kept from the foster system.
Robin can lead a team in life or death situations, he can make quick decisions and think his way out of sticky situations.
But sitting on the couch in the common area, watching Kon and Bart play one of the old Mario games, swapping the controller each time one of them die, is probably the most awkward he’s ever felt.
Cissie and Cass are playing Uno- or something- Tim’s too busy feeling awkward about being the only one sitting around doing nothing to check. He doesn’t mind too much, he’s on the couch alone because he likes his personal space, but to no one’s surprise, Kon likes Tim’s personal space, too.
“Boo!”
If Tim jumps, and his heart rate quickens, that's between him and Kon alone.
“Ahem. Hello, Connor, did you need something?”
“Yeah, I need you to stop looking like an abandoned kitten in the rain,” He says, with his stupid signature smile.
“Want to play with us?” He adds.
Looking back, Bart is now plugging in two other controllers, setting up for multiplayer.
Tim isn’t much into video games, despite all the time spent by himself before he moved into Wayne manor.
But… no harm no foul, right?
“Sure, why not?”
Man, Tim is shit at video games, and that might be because he missed out on more than a few ‘normal’ childhood experiences or it might be because Kon is laughing. Kon laughs as brightly as one would expect from a clone of Superman. He’s loud, boyish and impossible not to stare at. He’s the kind of person that makes everyone around him want to smile and hope.
He makes Tim want to smile too.
How odd that someone like that could be partly the product of someone like Lex Luther.
It’s no help that with Kon practically pressed up against Tim’s side- far closer than need be- but Kon has always been the touchy feely type- Tim could barely move his left arm without bumping into the kryptonian.
Needless to say, Tim loses this game. But it’s worth it to watch Kon laugh and stick his tongue out at him like a child who beat you in a race.
•
•
•
As much as Batman tries to enforce his No meta’s in Gotham rule, mass Arkham prison breaks are something that even the dark knight can’t deal with alone. With the help of all the vigilantes in Gotham it’s usually not too difficult, but Nightwing is out of commission, or more accurately Dick has a cold and Bruce won’t let him leave the Manor until he stops coughing every time he tries to breathe.
At first Batman tried to make due without Nightwing, and things were going well enough, until Redhood wound up with a face full of one of Ivy’s toxins. He was immediately sent back to the cave for an antidote, Ivy’s toxins were always a surprise and never a good one.
So now it’s down to just Batman and Robin, Always a capable team no matter which kid is wearing the R patch. But with so many villains they’re both overwhelmed, to the point that Batman has pulled his JL comm unit from his belt, he’s about to press the speaker button before it’s knocked out of his hand.
“Fuck,” Robin hears the Bat curse.
It may be difficult to tell through cowl but Tim has lived with Bruce long enough to know that he’s having an internal argument. Am I really going to do this vs is there any other option?
He watches Batman take a defeated sigh from where Robin’s half heartedly dodging the penguins cane swings.
He watches as Batman turns his head away from the villains trying to get a hit in.
He watches Batman take a deep breath in, filling his lungs with the night air.
And he hears Batman yell the loudest, most annoyed call for,
“SUPERMAN!” Using almost the same annoyed dad tone he does when he’s calling for his kids up the manors too big stairs.
All of Gotham’s crime filled streets were silent, for just a moment, and then the joker's wretched voice cut clean through the silence, “Awh the big bad Bat forced to call for help and no one even bothers to co-“
A flash of blue and red pass Tim’s eyes, followed quickly by another much the same.
“Batman! If you wanted to hang out you could’ve just texted, like a normal person, you know.” Superman says, loudly interrupting whatever monologue the joker had planned.
“Hello, Superman.”
“Golly, Batsie, seems like you could use a hand. I hope you don’t mind that I brought Superboy with me, it’s my weekend with him.”
“Whatever,-“ Batman huffs, “- just give me a hand, won’t you?” He says, waving a hand towards the myriad of villains in front of him as though they’re a mess to be cleaned.
With two supers on their side things go a lot smoother, villains were tied up or knocked out and waiting to be taken into custody, the only ones left standing being Ivy, Bane, Harley, and the joker.
Batman takes on Harley and the joker, he refuses to let any of his Robins take on the joker one on one, not again.
Superman is really just messing with Bane, flying too fast to keep track of, dizzying the strongman.
Which leaves Ivy to Robin and Superboy. Ivy has some distance established between her and the two boys, a distance Robin needs to close. He gives the YJ’s hand sign for ‘distraction’ and Kon seems to get it immediately. He’s at Ivy’s side in the blink of an eye, running his mouth to get her to focus on him.
“Hey plant chick, you’re looking awfully green, are you sick? need me to call you a doctor?”
“Do you garden? Because I could really use some tips, I mean… you do have a green thumb! Ha! Get it?”
“Do you dye your hair, can you even get hair dye in Arkham?”
While Superboy is busy asking stupid question after stupid question Robin hops from lamppost to lamppost, and takes an acrobatic dive into a flip off of the last one.
Ivy only notices when she sees Superboy’s eyes shift from her face to over her shoulder, lighting up in awe. By the time she whips her head around it’s far too late to react.
“Hiya there, Ivy,” Robin says as his bo staff connects with her shoulder.
He hits the ground without a sound, rolling out of the landing to reduce impact.
“It was nice seeing you-“ Robin says, tying Ivy to a lamppost “- glad you’re doing well and all, maybe next time they’ll be less commotion and we can have a proper chat about the local flora, or something.”
Ivy just glared.
“Wow, Rob, that was pretty awesome, you’ve gotta show off your flips and tricks more often during our fights,” Kon says with a smile.
“Showing off is more Nightwing’s thing, he’d probably be happy to show you. They’re all the same tricks anyway, seeing as he was the one who taught them to me.” He explains, stretching before tuning into his comm.
“Hey, B. Robin status report, Ivy neutralized.”
*Kshh* “Alright, reach a vantage point and keep an eye out, somehow-“
“Uhh, Rob…” Kon mutters, looking over Tim’s shoulder. Tim holds up his gloved pointer finger, one minute.
“- Superman managed to-“
“Robin,” Kon says a little bit louder, more urgently. Tim ignores him.
“Lose sight of Bane. So much for super senses.” *kshhk*
“Robin!” Kon practically screeches.
“What!? What’s so impor- “ Tim’s feet leave the ground and his eyes blow wide with realization.
“Shit,” he says.
Tim’s never cared much for flying, he’s perfectly happy swinging from grapples, he especially doesn’t care for flying when he’s heading straight for a wall after being thrown by possibly the largest man in Gotham.
This close, Robin can see that the wall of Gotham Bank really needs to be repainted.
Robin likes his personal space, and clearly, this wall does too.
•
•
•
Tim likes his personal space, and when he’s injured, his adoptive father also happens to like Tim’s personal space.
When Tim comes to, his nose hurts like a bitch. So does the entire side of his face, really. His vision is unfocused, but he can see one thing, and that is Bruce Wayne hovering over Tim’s half conscious self in what he assumes is the medical wing of the cave.
Tim shoots up off the bed, looking Bruce directly in the eye despite his unfocused vision.
“Is Kon okay?” He asks, because a fight with Bane is no joke.
Bruce frowns sourly, “Yes, Clark swooped in just in time to save his own invulnerable kid.”
Tim lets out a sigh of relief before seizing up in pain.
Bruce shoots him an apologetic look, “You have two broken ribs, another three fractured, you’re lucky your lungs weren’t punctured, your wrist is also fractured, your nose somehow isn’t broken, but is definitely bruised, and you have a concussion. You are to stay put in the manor until further notice.”
“Good job, Tim, you did well,” his voice was softer now. And it made Tim smile.
Next time he really woke up he felt a lot better, he’d been asleep for most of the last few days, only waking to eat, drink, piss, or take pain killers.
He was sitting in one of the manors' many family rooms, lights off, devices silenced, just existing. Tim blinks once, and like a ghost, suddenly Bruce is there, setting a cup of tea down on the coffee table.
Bruce’s presence does nothing to stir his concussion induced headache, but Alfred’s does. He walks up the stairs and into the sitting room with a rifle in hand.
“Master Bruce, there are two kryptonian men at your door asking to enter, shall I remind them of your rule against meta-humans in Gotham?”
Bruce just sighs deeply, “Are they in costume?”
“No sir.”
“Then let them in, but tell them to be quiet.” Bruce says, defeated.
“Yes, sir, I will return shortly,” Alfred says, turning to descend the stairs.
Bruce got up, saying he was going to meet Clark at the door.
Kon doesn’t make a single noise on his way up, even floating the entire way right up until he sits down next to Tim on the couch.
Kon turns to face him, and seemingly out of nowhere produces a card that he hands to Tim.
On the card is a cartoon teddy bear wrapped in bandages, and it says “Get well soon” on the top. Inside the card Kon’s messy scrawl spells out
“I’m sorry I let Mr Massive McMonster man throw you into a wall, please don’t hate me, and please don’t let the butler with a gun shoot me dull of kryptonite bullets :(
-Love Kon-El” And with it there was a little doodle of Bane with angry eyebrows and little flies buzzing around him, helpfully annotated “Mr big meanie” and “flies, cuz big man stunk”
“Oh Kon,” Tim whispers, for his own sake, “I could never hate you, not even for letting Bane serve me a full course meal of brick wall,” He shifts up and grabs the sides of Kon’s face planting a soft kiss to his lips before leaning back and reaching over to grab the cup of tea Bruce left for him, now probably a drinkable temperature (Batman likes his drinks hot enough to warm his cold dead heart)
“I- “ Kon starts, immediately getting interrupted.
“Awwhhh, little Timmy’s finally got himself a boyfriend,” Dick coos, walking into the room and making annoying and achingly loud kissy noises.
“Shut up,” Tim groans.
“Yeah, Can it, Dickface,” Jason says, holding an absolutely disgusting looking sandwich, no doubt his own unholy creation. The Cheeto, peanut butter, popcorn sandwich, or as Jason so affectionately calls it, The Kitchen Sink sandwich.
“Can’t you see little Tim-O and Super belt boy are having a moment,” he says through a mouthful of sin slapped between two pieces of white bread with the crusts cut off.
“Whyyyy,” Tim groans into Kon’s shoulder.
“Because, as your older brothers, it’s our job to bully you,” Dick says leaning on the back of the couch, patting Tim on the head.
“Dick, Jason, please leave Tim alone,” Bruce says, trudging back up the stairs with Clark in tow.
“Where’s the fun in that? Old man,” Jason says, sticking his peanut butter covered tongue out at Bruce.
“Master Jason, Master Richard, Need I remind you that Young Master Timothy is still healing from various injuries including a concussion and would benefit from silence, and Master Jason please do not stick your tongue out while you are still eating, it is frankly disgusting,” Alfred says, fixing both Dick and Jason with the look.
Tim sent his most thankful look towards Alfred, who only nodded and left to place his rifle back into its allotted cabinet. Alfred’s warnings never did fail to scare everyone into obedience, who wouldn’t listen to a butler with a gun.
Jason sat himself beside Tim, taking massive, gross bites of his sandwich, and Dick stayed leaned on the back of the couch. Bruce and Clark sat themselves on the couch adjacent, talking quietly about upcoming Justice League meetings and public appearances.
Kon wrapped an arm around Tim and he leaned into the super’s side, shutting his eyes, happy for the warmth, the silence and the company of his family and friends.
Tim liked his personal, space but he doesn’t mind sharing it every once in a while.