Work Text:
It had been 3 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days since Tim's family had spoken to him.
Tim ignored the weight of his phone in his pocket, sucking his attention in singularity to the pressure against his thigh. He was sitting at his desk staring at his laptop screen and doing nothing except moving his mouse slightly every minute or so to keep the screen from going dark. Tim vaguely thought that he should probably just give up all pretense and turn the laptop off, but he didn't. He continued to move the mouse every minute on cue while his course work mocked him. A cheerful-sounding notification from his phone startled him with hope, only for it to be a monthly newsletter he didn't remember signing up for. The lingering loneliness afterwards was too much to bear, and so he put his phone on silent and hid it away in his desk. He knew exactly what he would see if he opened it, anyway: a text from Dick timestamped 3 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days ago.
Wind hit the windows of Tim's apartment harshly, demanding entry. Snow hurried towards the ground and covered the world in a blur, and allowed the glow of the streetlights to turn the world almost impressionist, with only the suggestion of what Tim knew rested outside. He shuddered, suddenly aware of how cold he was, and tucked his legs into himself while pulling his arms out of his hoodie's sleeves and against his chest. He heard his phone buzz, but this time he felt no urge to check it. Tim stared at his work again, then groaned and dropped his head to his knees, as if it were forced down by the waves of self-loathing that washed upon him. Tim decided to stop kidding himself and finally closed his laptop. His phone buzzed again, but Tim barely paid attention to it. A widespread sense of hopelessness kept Tim trapped within his mind for long enough that his feet started to feel numb. At some point Tim stood up and began pacing around his apartment, horribly aware of every unfinished thing he needed to do. Dishes were piled in the sink, rinsed but not washed or put away. Clothes were left folded on his couch, but not yet put in the dresser. The floor was desperately in need of a sweep, and the coffee table was piled high with textbooks, and there was still a pair of socks behind the couch that had fallen there a week ago he still hadn't picked up. Tim was only just getting started exaggerating the severity of his situation when a knock came from the door. For a moment, Tim was sure it must have just been someone knocking on the neighbor's, but then it happened again. This was surprising, considering it was quite late and he wasn't expecting anyone.
Tim looked through the peephole and was momentarily shocked to see Dick. The shock was then quickly overruled by a sudden spike of shame about how messy he was. Tim fought those emotions down and finally opened the door.
"Dick," Tim greeted, in a way that said he was pleasantly surprised.
Dick smiled, but his eyes gave away he had other matters on his mind, "Tim, hey! How've you been?"
Tim stepped back to allow room for Dick to come in, "I've been alright. Sorry about the mess, I didn't know you were coming."
Dick looked apologetic, "Yeah, I did text you, but I saw it was left on delivered. Probably should have called, but I was already on the way." Tim was secretly a bit annoyed about this, but that was largely overshadowed by his wondering as to the nature of Dick's visit and his appreciation that he now had an actual excuse not to do his school work.
"It's fine," Tim reassured, "Why the visit?"
Dick looked at him cheekily, "Why, do I need a reason to visit my little brother?" At Tim's deadpan look, he laughed. "Nah, I'm here on business, I guess." Dick said, still keeping some mirth in his voice, "I wanted to check up on you. We haven't really talked in a while." Tim resisted the urge to snap at him that over three months of no contact was a little more than 'a while'. He momentarily hated himself for being angry. Dick continued, "I was wondering if you wanted to get takeout and watch a movie, like we used to do when you still lived at the manor." There was something deeper to Dick's surface question, Tim knew.
Tim was hesitant, "I don't know, Dick, I still have a lot of work I need to do. Sorry you had to come all this way-" Dick suddenly looked very desperate and gripped his forearm harshly. Tim froze. Dick had tears welling in his eyes.
"We haven't seen you in months, Tim. Three months, almost four, did you know that?" Tim knew that very well, but then Dick continued, saying, "The whole family misses you. I miss you," which was startling new information. Tim didn't know what to do with himself except feel a rising disgust at the instinctive disbelief he experienced when Dick said those words. Tim wondered if perhaps he was being petty and forced the suffocating silence from his family members onto himself. Maybe he should have tried to reach out. Maybe he should have done more than just stare at the date of their last message get further and further away. Maybe this was a sick joke. It was then tears started to fall from Dick's eyes, as if he sensed Tim's thoughts, and Tim was momentarily afraid that he would leave. But then Dick stepped closer, and forced Tim's awkward, tight body into a crushing hug and suddenly the world felt much clearer, much closer, and real. Tears of his own were squeezed out of Tim alongside desperate, gasping sobs.
"I thought you didn't notice I-" Tim choked on the phlegm running down his throat and heaved a breath to continue, "I thought-" a hic "-"I thought you didn't want me there."
Dick knew instinctively the 'you' was a collective one and held Tim closer, fighting to speak through his own tears. "Of course we want you. We always want you."
A lick of anger curled around Tim's self hatred like an ugly sash. Tim felt his anger take control of his words, "But you never showed it. You never called, or texted, or invited me over. The last time you did it was for a charity photo shoot that I barely got to speak to you all at. And when I do speak to you guys it's just Damian and Jason berating me and calling it banter while you and Bruce just watch and excuse it, like it's okay for them to be making fun of me for being the only one still with a living parent. As if it is some sort of fucked up inferiority I have that my dad is 'only in a coma'. And I haven't been able to hang out with Steph or Cas, cause Steph and I's relationship got weird when I went to uni and I'm always too busy for the both of them because of school work for a degree I don't care about. And I see on Instagram that you, Jason, and Damian went to a fancy ski resort without me and I had to find that out over a fucking thirst trap. Like I'm some sort of Wayne stan and not your own goddamn brother." Tim's voice quaked and broke more than he would have liked it too, but in that moment of pure emotion he did not care. With Tim shaking in his arms from both his tears and anger, Dick remained silent while a growing sense of horror made the minimal space between them feel cavernous.
Dick could think of a million excuses and explanations, but none of them would help right now. All he could do was cling onto Tim desperately and whisper, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you," over and over, as if practice hearing it would make Tim believe it was true. They stood there in the entryway for a while, ignoring the wet of melted snow dripping off of Dick's jacket and seeping into Tim's clothes. The wind was quiet.
Eventually, they both pulled apart, unsure of their footing and trust in their voices. Tim felt a bit like an idiot and Dick was convinced he was the worst person in the world. However, outside, the snow started to calm.
"Do you want something to drink?" Tim asked, for lack of anything better to say.
Dick took the opportunity gratefully, "Some water would be nice." Tim scrounged around his apartment for a clean glass and filled it with water, his mind tiredly blank. He handed the glass to Dick who sat down at the small table Tim had in his kitchen. Tim hopped onto the counter and stared at Dick, feeling no need to think of something to say. Dick stared down at his glass and fought back tears. He then looked up, making eye contact with Tim, who was looking at him in a considering way. Dick's tongue was failing him, but he knew he had to try anyways.
"I'm sorry," is what he started with, "I didn't- We didn't know how much we were hurting you. That we were pushing you away." Tim didn't feel as if the apology stirred any emotion in him. Dick noticed this and trudged forward, "We- It's different without you. We wanted to invite you to the trip but whenever we saw you you were always so busy. We didn't want to put anymore expectations on you."
Tim once again felt bitterness mix with his apathy, "You could have at least given me the opportunity to decide for myself what was too much."
Dick could only nod, "We should have. I'm sorry." It was silent for a moment again. "Bruce wanted me to invite you over for Zose Hanukkah. I know you don't really practice, but everyone is going to be there. Or, um, you can show up for Christmas, if you'd like. Or, you know, not at all," Dick trailed off here, allowing Tim his choice. There was a part of Tim that still didn't believe Dick about how much his presence was wanted with the Waynes, and it would take much more than pretty words for that part to be convinced. However, Tim found himself desperately wanting that doubt to be proven wrong.
"I'll be there," he whispered at last, the words sounding almost afraid to be heard, and Dick smiled. With not another word, Dick finished his drink and Tim walked him to the front door. Dick put on his jacket and hat and reached for the door to leave, but then paused.
Dick suddenly hugged Tim again, "We love you, Tim. Even when we're being idiots and hurt you, we still love you. Please don't forget that. Please give us the chance to make it up to you."
Tim clutched him and nodded against his chest. "Okay," he whispered, "I will," and they pulled apart. Dick smiled something bright and hopeful that Tim couldn't help but copy mutedly. Tim watched his brother leave his apartment and then, through the window, walk up to his car. They gave each other one final wave before Dick drove off. Tim stayed where he was, watching the image of Dick's car fade into the distance. The outside was bright despite the late hour, lit up warmly by the lights reflected on the fallen snow. It was perfectly still and unabashedly promising, with the whispered knowledge that when the sun rises a winter wonderland would be there to enjoy.
And when Tim knocked on the door to the manor a few days later, a happily surprised butler answered. Jason, walking past the door, would light up in glee and cheer, "Yo, Timmy's here!" The sound of Damian's quick footsteps and his look of poorly repressed excitement would then follow, and he would greet him with practiced and forced cordiality. Tim would then be forced to hurriedly take off his coat and join everyone in the dining hall, and a night full of light and celebration and greasy takeout would follow. Dick would smile, and Cas would call him little brother, and Stephanie would force him into plans to meet up sometime after New Years. Towards the end of the night, just before he left, Bruce would startle him with a hug and thank him for coming, and Tim would have to bite his tongue to keep from crying.
For the first time in a while, Tim found himself hoping.