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Bruce knew something was up with Tim. He was acting weird lately, whenever he was about the manor. Just a little more antsy and hesitant than usual.
Bruce did not know what to do about this. Communication was never exactly his strong suit. Especially about emotions, which Tim seemed to be experiencing.
He found himself acting oddly too. Every time he passed Tim’s door he paused, unsure if he should knock. He started doing more of his Wayne Enterprises work at the kitchen table, a seat pulled out invitingly next to him, just in case. Still, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Tim waited until they were both masked up. He’d passed along his emotional repression to most of his kids.
“So,” Tim started, then stopped. They were perched on top of a building, watching the warehouse across the street. Just observing, for that night. It would be a drug bust, but not a particularly large one. The compound was different from any of the other drugs on the Gotham market, but did not seem any more dangerous. It was a calm night, with only a light fog and occasional cool breeze. A good moment, he mentally applauded his son, under the assumption that doing so physically would appear condescending.
“So,” Tim repeated, slightly louder in a way that seemed unintentional. They both glanced around instinctively, though the goons on the street remained oblivious to their presence. “I went on a date the other day.”
This was nowhere on the mental list Bruce had made of potential topics. He and Tim had never really discussed such things. Tim wasn’t around for Talia, and Bruce considered his situation with Selina best kept unspoken. Perhaps Tim had ribbed him once for the girls he danced with as Brucie, which was fair enough, but he never mentioned his own girls. At least, not since introducing him to Stephanie. He wasn’t even told about their breakup—he only found out by overhearing a joke Steph made about it.
“Okay.” He responded, when Tim didn’t seem prepared to continue. “Did it go well?”
There you go, Bruce, he mentally congratulated himself. A perfectly neutral question. Now, Tim would feel comfortable to either gush about his crush or complain about how terribly awkward the date was.
Tim was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” he said finally, sounding genuine enough to Bruce’s ears. “I’d say so, yeah. That’s not what I—I mean I just wanted to say—”
This time when he cut off, he looked away, hiding his face, as if paranoid Bruce might be able to read him just from those visible slivers of his skin. Bruce kept his gaze on the door to the warehouse, giving Tim what privacy he could.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Bruce reminded him. Someone said that to her daughter in the show he watched recently, and it seemed well received. It was also, of course, true, unless the date information somehow managed to be mission critical. He stopped himself from adding that caveat, choosing to trust in Tim’s awareness of the exceptions.
“I know.” It came out as a huff. “I do want to tell you, I’m just nervous. And I don’t really know why, because I don’t think you’ll even care.”
“Hey,” that got Bruce’s attention. He awkwardly placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Of course I care.”
Tim laughed, a sudden hiccupy thing he was forced to immediately stifle into his own hand.
“I know,” he repeated once he was calm again. “I guess I just—”
He took a deep breath. “The person I went on the date with was a guy.”
He said it calmly, for all that his fingers seemed to be trembling where they gripped his knees.
For a moment, Bruce did not make a sound. This was very far from anything Bruce felt prepared for. What was he supposed to say?
“Okay,” he started with. Then, immediately realizing how unassuring that was, he added, “That’s okay.”
Bruce could see the moment Tim processed his words as all of the tension that was holding him taut for the last week unwound. He slumped forward first then, hesitantly, toward Bruce. Bruce, with matching awkward hesitancy, slung an arm around Tim’s shoulders to hold him there.
“Would you like to talk about him? In code,” he added. As much as he wanted to know the boy’s name, it wouldn’t do to have Red Robin announcing his romantic partnerships to the world. Sure, they’d swept the rooftop for bugs hours ago, but you could never be too careful.
“I had a high school friend. I doubt you’d remember him. But he was really important to me at the time. He was like the one normal part of my life. He’d come up with ridiculous conspiracy theories and tease me about girls.” With a chuckle, he added, “He flirted with my stepmom once, which is hilarious in retrospect, though it was horrifying at the time.”
Tim shifted a little, but didn’t pull away. If anything he seemed to lean more of his weight into Bruce’s side.
“We reconnected recently. During the Cult of Dionysus thing. I realized I wanted to see him more, so we’ve started dating. It’s barely been a week since we made it official.”
“I’m glad you told me.” I’m glad you wanted to tell me. Sometimes Bruce worried that Tim didn’t truly feel like one of his kids. That he didn’t expect the same love and acceptance and affection that was his due. And while that was absolutely his own fault, he had no clue what to do about it. Tim, like all of his kids, was braver than him.
“Were you surprised?”
Bruce gave that its due consideration.
“I can’t honestly say I was expecting it. I’d considered the possibility after Superboy’s death, but it didn’t feel worth digging into. I know it doesn’t seem it, but I do understand the concept of privacy.”
Tim frowned slightly at the mention of Kon, as though confused. Bruce waited for a question, suddenly unsure how to justify his own assumptions, but Tim just shook his head.
“I knew you were safe. I hope you know that. I was nervous because this is stressful, but I never really doubted you.”
Strangely, that seemed to do something in Bruce, unraveling a little knot of insecurity he hadn’t realized was there. It wasn’t his kids’ responsibility to reassure him he was a good dad, but he always found himself seeking it anyway.
“I understand,” he said, because he did. “I remember speaking to Alfred about these things. I was worried he was going to kick me out.” He laughed at the very thought. Not only because he was the one who technically owned the house they both lived in, but because by this point in his life he’d done so much worse than want to kiss a boy, and Alfred stood by him through it all.
Bruce was too focused on his reminiscing and his appreciation of Alfred (he really should pick up some more of those good chocolates for him) to notice Tim freeze, but he did feel the boy pull away to look up at his face.
“Wait,” Tim said, face scrunched in confusion. “Are you saying you’re gay too?”
Bruce did his own little awkward shift. “I… I’ve never really labeled anything… but I like men as much as women.”
“Holy shit,” Tim laughed. He seemed somewhat hysterical all of a sudden, which Bruce did not know what to do with. When Tim buried his laughter in the side of Bruce’s suit, he let his hand awkwardly pat the back of his son’s head. It took a frankly absurd amount of time for the boy to recover, but Bruce didn’t say anything. They weren’t in any rush. He kept watching the warehouse, though there wasn’t expected to be any further activity outside for another hour.
“Okay wait,” Tim said, once he caught his breath. “Would it be weird for me to ask which men? Like do I want to know?”
Bruce huffed a laugh. “Probably not,” he answered honestly. Then, smirking slightly, he added, “You’ve met Ghostmaker.”
Tim stared at him in utter astonishment.
“What the fuck,” he said, emphatically.
Bruce hummed, uncertain how to respond. He wasn’t sure he understood where this conversation had gone, but Tim seemed entertained. That was important. He never minded feeling lost like this when it was to the benefit of one of his kids.
“Do the others know?”
“Ghostmaker and I haven’t been personally involved in several years. It hasn’t been relevant.” Though Khoa was set to return soon. Maybe they could find some time alone…
“What? No, I mean I guess I am perversely fascinated by that because. Wow. But I meant about you being… not-straight?”
“I don’t think that’s ever been relevant either.”
“Relevant?” Tim parroted back, somewhere between amused and disapproving. “Things don’t have to be ‘relevant’ to us for us to want to hear about your life. You know we care about you, right? Like as your own person, not just part of a mission or whatever.”
“I know that.” Though admittedly Bruce felt baffled by the relevance of that statement. “You never want to hear me talk about Selina.”
Tim groaned, a full-body movement collapsing in to cover his face. “That’s cause we’re all traumatized by you and Selina! You’ve got to stop forgetting to turn off your com, B!”
Bruce flushed remembering the last time it happened. Evidently, Damian did not like hearing someone flirt with his dad. There was some minor stabbing involved.
Tim glanced up at him. “But like. You weren’t scared to tell us, right? I promise no one would care.”
Perhaps Bruce did understand this. Tim did not want Bruce to fear his judgement in the same way that Bruce did not want Tim to fear him. This was love, maybe, awkwardly expressed by two inept vigilantes on a dirty rooftop in a nearly-empty warehouse district at approximately two in the morning.
His stomach did that odd twisty thing it did whenever he thought too much about how amazing his kids were. He smiled into it.
“If talking about this is important to you, we can do it together,” he offered.
Tim looked at him, assessing.
“Only if you want to,” Tim countered. “You don’t actually need to tell people if you don’t want to.”
“It wasn’t a secret,” Bruce explained. Then, for the sake of honesty, “You know I’m not good at talking about anything.”
That made Tim laugh. “That’s true. I suppose we couldn’t expect you to come out to us unless it was mission-critical. But if you’re comfortable talking about it, sure.”
Suddenly, he got a truly devilish look on his face. “We can do it at dinner tomorrow!”
By “tomorrow” he, of course, meant that day. Saturday nights were family dinner before family patrol. Everyone under one roof was always a chaotic mess.
His hesitancy must have shown on his face, because Tim’s smile slipped. “Nevermind, we don’t have to.”
Just that moment of dejection was enough to break Bruce’s heart. He took Tim’s hand in his. “No, I meant it. I’d like to do this with you.”
Tim looked into his eyes for a long moment. Bruce did not glance away, despite his discomfort. Eventually, Tim’s grin returned. “Great! I have the perfect plan.”
Which was a terrifying sentence from any of his kids, and Bruce could not wait to see the results.