Chapter Text
Tim grinned as he hopped into Dick’s old blue car, shifting his backpack into his lap and waving to his brother.
Dick chuckled and started moving forward. “Good day?”
“Yeah,” Tim said, still unable to keep himself from smiling.
Two months ago, Bruce had pulled Tim into his study with a tired look and explained that, due to his D-minus in English, he was going to have to find himself a tutor.
“I don’t want Robin to encourage you to neglect your schoolwork,” he’d said with steepled fingers. Tim had put up a fight, but Bruce gave him an ultimatum: he could either find a tutor, or be benched until his grade was brought up. Tim had, begrudgingly, acquiesced.
The thing was, Tim hated school.
His teachers didn’t like him and he didn’t easily make friends. He’d been told to his face by multiple sources that he was weird and awkward and sorry, I’m only inviting my friends. And that was… that was fine. He was Robin, anyway. If his class knew that, they’d be begging him to go to their parties and sit with them at lunch and be his partner in group projects.
But it wasn’t like that could happen, so.
When he lived with his parents, they’d put buckets of pressure on him for his grades. He’d done fine, but not well enough. Eventually, they’d stopped bugging him about it, but their resigned disappointment stung more than anything.
Sure, his grades had slipped a little upon taking up the mantle. But wasn’t fighting crime more important?
But Tim had managed to find someone willing to help him in English. They met up every Tuesday after school at the library for a couple hours. The tutor, Oscar, had helped Tim get his grade up to a C already.
And he was Tim’s first friend.
Dick turned back to the road, a fond expression on his face. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he said.
“Me, too,” Tim agreed, absentmindedly fiddling with the drawstring on his backpack. “Oscar’s real helpful. And we finished early today, so we just talked for a while. He even said we should get together to play D&D.”
Oscar and Tim shared so many interests. Star Trek, Pokémon, and even the vigilantes of Gotham—they could make conversation about anything. It felt amazing.
Maybe Tim was oversharing (God knew his parents wouldn’t have cared beyond a simple fine), but it just felt so good to be able to talk about a friend. A real life, tangible friend who liked Tim for no reason other than they clicked.
“He listened to me explaining the differences between digital and analog cameras for twenty minutes.”
Dick laughed again. “Wow, he’s a winner.” They hit a red light and Dick slowed to a stop. “Hey, would you want to invite Oscar over to the Manor sometime to hang out? Maybe during winter break, in a couple weeks? You guys could play D&D, like you were saying.”
Tim’s eyes widened. He’d never had a friend over before. “Would that be okay with Bruce?” He’d only been adopted six or so months ago, he didn’t want to overstep.
Dick reached over to ruffle his hair. “Yes, you goober.” Tim squawked and ducked away. “He’s happy you’re happy.” A warm feeling blossomed in Tim’s chest.
“I’ll ask him next week,” Tim said. “It would have to be on a Tuesday or Wednesday, because that’s when he doesn’t have class.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick hesitate.
“…Is Oscar skipping school?” Dick eventually asked.
“No,” Tim said, shaking his head. “He has morning classes on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and later classes on the other days.”
Dick thought for a moment. “I didn’t know Gotham Academy let people do that. Is it a senior thing?”
Tim snorted. “Oscar doesn’t go to Gotham Academy, he goes to Gotham University.”
Dick turned into a parking lot.
Tim blinked. “Uh, why are we at the bank?”
After putting the car in park, Dick turned so he was fully facing Tim, who was growing increasingly confused. “What do you mean, Oscar goes to Gotham U?”
Dick’s eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes alight with an intensity that Tim wasn’t expecting. Tim swallowed before responding, “I mean… he goes to Gotham U? He dropped out when he was younger but decided to try again for his bachelor’s.”
It was so quiet, Tim could hear a couple outside squabbling about their credit card. Dick cleared his throat.
“How old is Oscar?”
The mirth from Tim’s day quickly turned into stone. “32.”
Dick faced forward again, closing his eyes and inhaling through his nose. Caterpillars chewed at Tim’s insides and he squirmed in his seat.
It wasn’t—it wasn’t weird.
Tim’s hands fisted the straps of his backpack, twisting nervously in the fabric. What was so bad about having an older tutor? It wasn’t like Oscar was selling him drugs or anything.
Dick took another deep breath. “Okay, we’re going to go back to the Manor and talk to Bruce.”
Tim immediately tensed. “We don’t need to do that.” There was nothing to even talk about. Tim wasn’t in danger; why was Dick acting like this?
“Yeah,” Dick sighed, “we do.”
______
Tim nervously tapped his finger on the wooden table in front of him, tracing patterns in the grain with his eyes as he waited for Oscar to arrive. The ad the man had posted hadn’t been incredibly informative, but at least Tim was able to find someone who didn’t go to his school. That would have been mortifying.
“Are you Tim?”
Tim glanced up. That must have been Oscar—he had books and pencils in his arms, a crooked grin across his face.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. He straightened his back. “Oscar?”
The man sat down across from Tim and opened a notebook. “That’s me.” He wrote something down on a blank page. “So, English, right?”
The first session went by smoothly. Tim was still nervous, but Oscar laughed and assured him he was fine. Tim actually found himself understanding what Oscar would teach.
At their second session, Oscar branched out. “So, Tim, tell me about yourself.”
Tim, caught off guard, eloquently said, “...Huh?”
Oscar just laughed, propping his head in his hand. “We can start easy. What are some of your hobbies?”
Tim hesitated. He couldn’t exactly say ‘fighting crime,’ and his non-vigilante-related hobbies were dorky. But he couldn’t exactly make something up—he couldn’t fake knowledge on football or anything if he tried. He reluctantly settled for the truth. “I like skateboarding. And I play Dungeons and Dragons.” He dropped his gaze.
But Oscar simply smiled. “Man, I love D&D! Do you DM?”
Tim glanced back up, eyes slightly wide with disbelief. “Uh, yeah.” Oscar wasn’t, like, pitying him, right? “Well, not really. I mean, I don’t really have anyone to play with, so I kind of do it by myself.”
“Damn, I wish I could do it solo. I tried once, but I couldn’t wrap my head around doing everything at once.”
Tim felt some of the tension inside his chest loosen. “It’s not too bad once you get the hang of it. Do you, um, play with your friends most of the time?”
Oscar’s smile turned into a small grimace. “Nah. I had a couple buddies, but they’re dirtbags. I’m kinda on my own.”
Tim offered him a tiny smile. “That’s alright; I am too.”
Oscar smiled back. “Well, not anymore.” He held out his hand. After a small pause, Tim placed his own palm in his grasp. Oscar squeezed his hand and shook it. “We’re in this together, Tim.”
______
The drive back was filled with a heavy silence, Tim’s eyes trained on his lap and Dick’s glued to the road. Neither tried to make conversation.
They parked in the Manor’s garage ten minutes later. Dick took his keys out and gave Tim one final look before sighing and opening his door. “Come on, bud.”
The walk to Bruce’s study only took a minute, but it felt like hours. Despite the Manor’s heating system, Tim felt a cold dread creeping up his spine with each step they took.
What was even so bad? Why was Dick freaking out on Tim so much? Oscar was helping him. He thought that was what everyone wanted!
They approached the large mahogany doors of Bruce’s first-floor study. Dick strode in after a quick knock, herding Tim in with him.
“Boys,” said Bruce, brows raised in surprise. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” Tim said at the same time his brother answered “No.” Dick sat down in one of the armchairs across from Bruce’s desk, leaving Tim to sit in the one beside it.
Bruce paused. Then turned to Dick. “What’s wrong?” Tim pursed his lips. Of course he would believe Dick.
Dick placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You know Tim’s tutor?”
Bruce’s eyes sharpened. “Oscar?”
“Yeah. Well, it turns out, he’s not a student at the Academy like we thought.” Tim crossed his arms. “He’s a middle-aged man.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Tim whispered, trying to quell the burning behind his eyes and hating how he sounded like a whiny kid. Either Dick and Bruce didn’t hear him, or he was ignored.
Bruce set down whatever file he’d been holding and shifted his gaze to Tim, who was seeing how deep he could burrow into the cushions. Maybe he could make it to China.
Dick continued, “He’s apparently been telling Tim they should get together sometime.”
Bruce pursed his lips before asking Tim, “Why didn’t you tell us your tutor was an adult?”
“Because there was nothing to tell,” Tim insisted, still not meeting his adoptive father’s eyes. “You told me to find a tutor, so I found one. I don’t understand what I did wrong!”
“Timmy,” Dick started, “you know it’s not smart to hang out with adults you don’t know, especially in Gotham. How many kids has Robin saved from situations like that?”
Tim jerked his head up. “It’s not like that!” Dick wasn’t seriously insinuating… “He helps me with my homework and talks with me about video games. He—he’s not like that!” He toed off his shoes and brought his knees up to his chest, curling into a little ball.
Bruce exhaled. “Tim, why else would a grown man spend hours every week with an unaccompanied minor?”
“Because he’s my friend!” Tears started to slip down Tim’s face at his outburst, and he furiously wiped them away with the backs of his hands. “He’s trying to pay for college, so he took up tutoring. Maybe the cash encourages him, but we get along.” He sniffed, embarrassment curdling in his gut like overchurned butter. “Oscar isn’t some creep, he’s—he’s my friend, and he likes spending time with me, and I like spending time with him. You’re the ones making it weird.”
Was it really so hard to believe that someone could want to hang out with Tim without an ulterior motive? Tim wasn’t hopeless. And he definitely wasn’t a victim.
Dick’s face twisted and his mouth opened. But before he could say anything, Bruce’s deep voice broke through.
“Sweetheart.” Tim clutched himself tighter. “I know you like him, but no matter the situation, it’s unprofessional and exploitative for an adult to spend regular time with a child he has no relations to without first contacting the child’s guardian. You’re fourteen, and I’ve seen too many cases to feel comfortable with you being alone with an adult I haven’t met and approved of.”
“But…” Tim sniffed again and buried his face in his knees. “He’s my only friend.” The whispered admission felt like fire in the worst way, crawling up his skin and swallowing him whole until all that was left was a pile of ash.
He heard the sound of footsteps approaching his chair, and then large arms were encircling him and pulling him close. “Oh, bud.”
A sob finally escaped him, followed by another and another. Humiliation and frustration mixed together in a truly shit cocktail as he cried in Bruce’s arms, dampening his dress shirt. “Nobody else likes me, Dad,” he said through sobs. Bruce held him closer.
“I don’t believe that for one second,” Bruce said gently. “You’re one of the smartest, most caring and passionate kids I’ve ever met, Tim. What’s not to like?”
Tim burrowed his face into Bruce’s shoulder. “I’m annoying and a know-it-all. I don’t pick up on things like other people do. I get obsessive and weird.” He squeezed his eyes shut tight. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, I just…”
He trailed off, but Bruce didn’t seem to mind. He just held Tim until he calmed down and sobs petered out into hiccups.
Bruce moved back, but didn’t pull away completely. “Why don’t we talk about this over some hot chocolate?”
Tim let Bruce pull him up. “I’d prefer coffee.”
“Not for growing boys.”
______
“Hey, Tim!”
Tim looked up from his spot at the library’s table and met eyes with Oscar. He gave the man a matching grin and opened his folder to take out a couple stapled papers. “Oscar, look!”
Oscar took the papers from Tim’s eager hand and lit up after a glance. “Oh my god, Tim! This is great!”
“Thanks!” Tim took the papers back and put them back in the folder. His eyes lingered on the grade at the top: 89. It was the highest grade on an essay that he’d gotten all year. Ask him for a comprehensive mission report and he could do it; but ask him to decipher the theme and relevance of Pride and Prejudice, and he was hopeless. But Oscar was helping.
Oscar seemed to have the answers for everything. He could help with an essay, vocabulary, Star Trek theories, and basically everything else. Tuesdays were slowly shifting to Tim’s favorite day of the week.
“Have you shown your dad?” Oscar asked. “Or one of your brothers? Your girlfriend?”
“I showed my brother,” Tim replied, “but not my dad yet. And I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Oscar raised an incredulous eyebrow. “What do you mean, you don’t have a girlfriend? You’re funny, clever, and not bad on the eyes, either.” Tim felt his face heating up at the praise. “Who would pass you up?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. I don’t even know if I want a girlfriend right now, though, anyway.”
Oscar thought for a moment, then said softly, “You know, if you ever think that you don’t want a girlfriend at all, you can tell me.”
Tim’s muscles tensed. He’d barely started broaching this subject with himself, he wasn’t ready to talk about it with someone else. “I’m not gay,” he said back, immediately going on the defensive.
Oscar just raised his hands and shrugged. “Hey, maybe not. But if you are, I don’t care. I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
The open tab with the details of the Kinsey Scale on his computer sat heavy in his backpack. He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
But it was really nice to hear Oscar’s offer.
“Thanks,” he said.
Then they worked on English.
______
Dick, Bruce, and Tim sat curled up on a plush sofa in the living room, sipping Alfred’s hot chocolate. Bruce and Dick sat on either side of Tim, holding him close.
Dick had a hand in Tim’s hair, running long fingers through the tangled strands. It felt nice, but Tim was still too on edge to fully enjoy it.
Bruce, while comforting, also held a tablet in one hand, no doubt looking for sources and statistics to prove his point. Tim didn’t particularly want to hear it.
Luckily, Dick spoke before Bruce could start his lecture. “Tim, you said Oscar wanted to meet up to play D&D with you, right?” Tim nodded. “I know you’re aware that that isn’t something adults should do unprompted.”
…Okay, maybe this still wasn’t going to go in Tim’s favor.
“He wasn’t trying to get me alone,” Tim stressed. “We just share some interests. That’s not a crime.”
“But it is weird.”
“No, it’s not.” Tim paused to take a deep breath. He didn’t want to lose his cool in front of them again. “That’s what friends do, right? He’s my friend, and I’m his.”
Dick exchanged a look with Bruce. “Did he ever tell you that you’re his friend?”
Tim nodded again. That was something he’d confirmed early on—he didn’t want to make a fool of himself like he’d done in the past, so he’d made sure to ask Oscar if they really were friends. He couldn’t help but smile a bit when he replied, “Oscar said I’m the best friend he’s ever had.”
He remembered that day clearly. Tim had been too nervous to question him outright, so he’d kind of danced around the topic. But eventually, Oscar had caught on. He’d smiled and said, “Tim, I’ve never had a friend as good as you are.” Then they hugged, and spent the rest of the time quizzing Tim on vocabulary flashcards.
Dick’s hand paused in Tim’s hair before quickly resuming its strokes. Bruce’s grip on his mug visibly tightened.
“Did Oscar ever talk about… uncomfortable topics with you?” Bruce asked carefully.
Tim rolled his eyes. “He didn’t show me porn, if that’s what you’re worried about. All we ever talked about was English and Star Trek and stuff.”
“And hanging out.”
“Not in a weird way!” Tim shrugged Dick’s arm off, not up for so much touching anymore. “You guys are twisting things!” Sure, kids his age didn’t normally make friends with guys in their thirties, but Tim had always been different. If Oscar had tried to make a move on him or something, that would’ve been different. Tim would’ve hightailed it outta there. That’s how kids get hurt.
“Tim,” Bruce began, “do you remember the case about Nancy Delaney last month?”
Tim felt like a bobblehead nodding again, but of course he remembered the case. Bruce hadn’t wanted him to work it, but he’d been adamant that he was mature enough for any case. Nancy had fallen victim to a malicious schoolteacher who’d taken advantage of her for almost an entire school year before he was caught.
But that case wasn’t anything like Tim’s friendship with Oscar. Right?
“It began with compliments. Then it moved to innuendos, and then something worse.” Bruce heaved a sigh and rubbed one of his temples. “It doesn’t have to start with ‘making a move.’”
The beginnings of a horrible feeling swirled inside of Tim.
Was that what it all was? The whole time, was Oscar just—
No. They were friends; they had to be.
“But then why did he listen whenever I wanted to talk?” Tim said desperately, trying anything to convince both them and himself that nothing was wrong. “He said he’d always be there for me, and if I have secrets I can tell him, and he actually wants to hang out with me…”
The more he said, the less convinced he was. Tim trailed off, voice wobbling and tears threatening to spill over again. He brought his mug to his lips to mask it.
Dick’s face contorted with sympathy again, and he had a silent conversation with Bruce over Tim’s head.
The soft rumble of Bruce’s voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a knife through butter. “Why don’t we go to bed?”
“I have homework,” Tim mumbled. “And it’s early.”
“You can take the day off tomorrow,” Bruce assured him. “Besides, plenty of people sleep around this time.”
Tim scoffed. “Yeah, toddlers and senior citizens.” But despite his protests, his heavy eyelids threatened to close. He brought up a fist to rub at them, but was soon hauled up by Dick.
“C’mon, it’s bedtime.”