Archive of Our Own

There’s flecks of yellow nail polish scattered over the floor, unable to be swiped away no matter how much Tim kicks at them. Despite how excited he had been last night when Dick had painted his nails, there’s no giddiness to be found now when his classmates continue snickering behind him. It does nothing to dissuade them when their teacher continuously shushes them, they simply refuse to quit their whispered insults. 

He doesn’t understand how they could taunt him for wearing nail polish when someone as cool as his big brother wears it too. They’re even matching this time, Dick sporting the bright yellow with surely none of the overwhelming embarrassment that Tim has. 

If his classmates knew that Nightwing was the one to offer to paint his nails then maybe they wouldn’t currently be attempting to come up with cruel nicknames for him. Even dummy Isaac would have to admit that he’s in the wrong when he’s in such admiration that he brings a Nightwing themed pencil case to school everyday. Tim isn’t stupid enough to ruin his family’s biggest secret just so some mean kids stop messing with him, so he continues picking at his nail polish and waits for their teacher to allow them outside. 

Tim has gotten almost all of the polish off when the door opens and everyone rushes towards the playground. He has to scamper forward to keep from getting run over, making a beeline towards the monkey bars. It’s one of the only play areas that overlap with his vigilante training, though he can’t do any of the flips Dick has been training him on without a spotter. Dad won’t actually let him go out on patrol anytime soon, even though Dickie had debuted as Robin before he had even turned nine years old, which isn’t that much older than Tim is now. It’s still important to train though, even if school severely limits the extent at which he can do so.

He’s almost gotten to the monkey bars when two of the worst kids in the whole grade get in his way, Nicky and Isaac. Tim ignores them, even when Nicky starts calling him ‘a sissy little make-up wearing girl’ as if being a girl is an insult, and Isaac jeers at him just as obnoxiously. Turning tail, he heads towards the slides. If Tim wants to be a hero like his big siblings then he can’t let meaningless insults get to him. A crybaby can’t be a vigilante. 

Going down the slide is only so much fun when Isaac is waiting at the landing to grab at his hands and pinch at the remnants of the chipping nail polish. There’s not even any reprieve to be found when Tim climbs back to the top of the structure because Nicky is up there, waiting for him. 

Some instinctive, childish part of him looks towards the big kid playground. There’s a low fence separating the two play areas, allowing multiple grades to have recess at the same time. It’s hard to miss Jason’s bright red sweatshirt. He tries to feel soothed in the knowledge that his big brother, his Robin, is there, but it just makes him feel all the more babyish to yearn so desperately for comfort. It’s not very heroic of him to go crying to his brother at some mean kids name-calling. Not even Damian is this sensitive and he’s barely a toddler. 

Tim continues to ignore them, knowing that the playground monitors won’t do anything about their taunting. The last time he went to a teacher for help they said that he needed to grow thicker skin, that none of his siblings ever whined this much at his age. Tim doesn’t mean to be so weak, but he doesn’t know how to make the other kids stop when they never listen. It doesn’t matter how nice he is, or how much he turns the other cheek, they just won’t leave him alone.

Nicky presses into his space, laughing at the way he recoils. There’s no room to use any of Dad’s training when that’ll just get him in bigger trouble. The one time Tim hit them back and he was the only one who got in trouble. Dad wasn’t mad at him then, actually listening when he said it was self-defense, but he doesn’t wanna sit crying in the principals office again. Dad would be so disappointed that Tim can’t fend off a couple of dumb kids when he’s been working so hard towards joining the family business like all of his big siblings did. 

“Just leave me alone already,” he snaps, trying his best to sound assertive. He doesn’t have the same confidence that Dick has, or the quiet strength of Cass, or the clever way with words like Jason. Tim is too small for his age, even with Alfred’s hearty meals and Dad’s attentive doting. No amount of training will make him taller. There’s nothing he can do to make Nicky back off when he keeps crowding in, poking at his sides and grabbing at his sweater, chuckling cruelly at him all the while. 

Tim tries again to shake him off, using a maneuver that his sister showed him recently, but Nicky is bigger than him and it is far too easy for him to grab Tim again. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re just trying to play with you, no need to be such a baby,” he laughs, just as mean as he always is. Tim doesn’t even know what he did to piss him off this much. 

“Why don’t you just go away? I don’t wanna play with you!” Tim growls, pushing at the hands continuously pinching and prodding. 

“That’s not very nice,” Nicky sneers, getting back in his face. “Maybe I’ll just have to tell Miss Hanna,” he teases, knowing just how likely it is that their teacher will scold Tim instead of him. Tim pulls away again, only to be shoved into the rail leading towards the slide. If he can just get down the slide then he can run off towards the swings or even towards the blacktop. At least in the open space it’ll be harder for them to hurt him without a teacher noticing. 

As much as he’d like to go to the barrier between the playgrounds and talk to Jason, maybe even hold his hand through the fence, the teachers don’t like it when they do that. ‘Outside is for playing, not for talking’, they always say. Jason would know what to do about this, though. He’s good at getting mean kids to back off. 

It’s cowardly to go running off, completely unbefitting of a future hero, but he doesn’t know what else to do. 

Tim stumbles forward, bending so that he can slide down, but then there’s hands on his back, shoving him. 

Tim tumbles right over the curve of the slide, crashing straight down to the rubber turf. His arm comes out to brace his fall but it does nothing to stop his chin from smacking against the ground. 

All he tastes is blood. 

An agony he’d never known before, Tim can’t help his wailing sobs. Curled up on the ground, limp wrist clutched to his chest, he screams. 

There’s voices all around but they’re so loud, frantic and patronizing and Tim wants it all to stop, please. He doesn’t feel like a big boy anymore, tears streaming down his face as he drools blood all over the ground. His lip doesn’t hurt as much as his arm but there’s so much more blood, red all over. Dad gave him this sweater for his last birthday and now it’s ruined. The thought just makes him cry harder, every quivering movement of his mouth just amplifying the pain. 

Tim doesn’t know how long he lies there, teachers yelling and classmates whining, before there’s gentle hands on him, easing him up. He leans into the comfort instinctively, recognizing his brother’s touch before he even sees Jason there. He can’t help but wonder if Jason had hopped the fence, or if a teacher had let him through. 

It doesn’t matter though because Jason is here, whispering reassurances as he gingerly helps him into a sitting position. “I’ve got you, Timmy, ‘m here. I’ll help you, alright? You’re doing so well.” 

Tim doesn’t feel like he’s doing well, but he leans into the gentle touch regardless. He can’t fit into Jason’s lap, not small enough for that, but he leans against his chest best he can, wrist still held guardedly to his own body. He whimpers, knowing he’s doing nothing to prove himself courageous or strong, but it’s hard to care when it hurts so badly. 

“Jason Todd-Wayne!” Tim’s teacher, Miss Hanna, snaps, finally approaching them. She looms, not even squatting down to inspect his injuries. “Get back to your play yard this instant!” Tim can’t help but sob in response, white-knuckling his sweatshirt, as if that’ll do anything to keep Jason from letting him go.

“My little brother is hurt,” Jason exclaims, more desperate than he ever sounds even on patrol. “You have to help him.” He’s holding Tim just as securely, careful not to aggravate his wounds. He doesn’t even seem to mind the blood, pulling him close even when the red dribbles down onto his sweatshirt. At least the blood blends in, making the stain less noticeable. Tim hopes that Alfred will be able to get the discoloration out. He’d hate to ruin this too. 

Miss Hanna brushes the concern off, as she always does, “It was merely a small tumble, he’ll be fine after an ice pack.” Tim is bawling so hard that he’s unable to even deny her claim. He might not be as knowledgeable about injuries as the rest of his family, but even he knows that a mere ice pack will not be enough to soothe this anguish. 

Jason cards his fingers through his hair the way that Dad always comforts them, and that just makes him whimper. He doesn’t want his Daddy to see how pathetic he is but god does he crave the solace that he’d bring. 

“That was not a tumble!” Jason shouts, too loud. “That little asshole just pushed him off the slide! That was assault!” 

Tim knows that he’s right, on an intellectual level, but even he fears that it’s dramatic. He shouldn’t be crying so much when all of his older siblings have faced far worse on patrol without so much as a complaint. 

Even so, betrayal still burns when his teacher immediately protests. “You are clearly exaggerating,” she huffs. “Go back to your side of the playground now or you’ll be sent straight to the principal’s office.”

Chin held high. “Good,” Jason says, fearless as he always is, “Then I can tell him about how you’re neglecting my little brother and ignoring obvious bullying. Our dad will fight to make sure that something like this never happens again.” Tim knows it to be true. He’s never doubted his Dad’s protectiveness, but just he’d hoped that he could handle this himself, prove himself to be independent. Bullying feels too crude a word, just further proof of how childish he’s being. He won’t ever be helpful to the vigilante scene if something this small can shatter him so easily. 

“Da- Daddy,” Tim gasps, unable to help himself, unable to feel any bigger than he is. “I want Daddy, please.”

One hand is wrapped around his back and the other carding gently through his hair. “I know, Timmy,” Jason murmurs softly. “If none of the teachers call him then I will. I’ll make sure Dad comes and picks you up.”

“Don’t go,” Tim begs, clutching his sweatshirt hard enough to hurt, just as red. “Please, Jay, no.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures immediately. “They couldn’t pry us apart if they tried.” It’s a challenge and they all know it. Jason isn’t hurting him and it’s not like the teachers could actually force them apart without risking further injury.

Miss Hanna sighs, clearly coming to the same conclusion. “Take him to the nurse.” 

That’s all the permission that Jason needs. He helps him to his feet ever so gently, allowing Tim to lean heavily against him. The blood is still pooling out of his mouth, down his chin and dampening his sweater. He fears that even Alfred will be unable to rid the clothing of such heavy staining. All the sobbing just makes the bleeding worse. The pain is radiating like a ripple in a pond and yet Tim can’t tell what exactly is wrong. If it’s his lip, his tongue, his teeth, his chin, all of the above. He just knows that it hurts and he wants it to stop, please, and he wants his Daddy. He wants Daddy and Jay, Dickie, Cass, Dami, and Alfie. He just wants his family to make it better, please. 

This could very well ruin his chances of being a young hero like his siblings, but he can’t find it in him to care right now. He just wants it to be over. 

Jason doesn’t get frustrated at how slowly Tim shuffles forward, continuing to murmur reassurances. “You’re doing so well, Timmy, I’ve got you. I’ll make sure someone calls Dad and then we’ll go home,” he says, with that same easy confidence he has in costume. Tim believes him, he has to. Jason wouldn’t lie about this. 

With an arm wrapped securely around his waist, he’s guided inside the building. Some babyish part of Tim just wants to be carried, to get off his feet and let someone bigger and stronger take care of everything, but that’s not fair. He knows that Jason could carry him, but they’re at school. He’s not Robin right now. So they continue moving, step by shaky step, until they reach the nurses office.

Jason opens the door for him, calling out to the nurse like an old friend, “Nurse Sharon! Timmy got pushed off the slide. He hurt his chin, mouth, and arm.” 

Nurse Sharon rushes forward, brow creased in genuine concern. “Oh, honey, c’mere. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She guides both boys to sit on a cot, the paper wrinkling under their weight. She makes quick work of putting on rubber gloves, ensuring she doesn’t get all yucky. She is ever so gentle, careful not to cause more pain as she inspects his injuries. “Did you bang your chin on the way down?” 

Jason answers for him when it’s clear that talking only amplifies the hurt. “He smashed his chin on the ground. He had tried to brace his fall with his arms, but he crashed too hard.” Tim knows that Jason isn’t trying to embarrass him but the retelling only makes him cry harder. His brother rubs his back through every quaking sob, showing no sign of annoyance when Tim can’t calm himself down long enough for Nurse Sharon to get a good look.

“I know it doesn’t feel good, honey,” she coos, though it’s not condescending. “I just need you to hold still for a moment so I can make sure you didn’t hurt your teeth.” 

Tim nods, only aggravating his worsening headache. “‘M sorry,” he blubbers, a gross mixture of saliva and blood dribbling out of his mouth. 

Nurse Sharon touches him so gingerly, inspecting his lips and teeth, ensuring nothing is broken beyond repair. “Looks like you bit your bottom lip, which is why you’re bleeding,” she says. She’s good at explaining without making Tim feel too much like a dummy. “You also chipped one of your front teeth,” before Tim can panic too terribly, she continues, “The good thing is that it’s a baby tooth. Pretty soon it’ll fall out and it won’t damage your adult teeth at all. It’s going to be alright.”

Gathering up some tissues and a cup of water, she soothes, “I’m just going to clean you up and then I’ll take a look at your arm.” Using the dampened tissues, she wipes away the worst of the blood. It does nothing to clean his shirt but at least his skin feels less icky. “There you go, now we can see your face,” she smiles, eyes crinkling up. “Let’s just get a bandaid on your chin. What design would you like?” She asks, before pulling out a container filled with bandages. He points to the first Batman one he sees, sitting as still as he can while she applies the bandaid. 

With that settled, Nurse Sharon stands up and exchanges the dirty gloves for new ones. She grabs something from the mini fridge, “Here you go. It’s an ice teether, it’ll help your lip feel better.” Tim can’t help but glance towards his brother, worried how babyish he’ll look to be gnawing on a literal teether, but Jason shows no hint of judgment. He nods his head almost imperceptibly, a silent show of support. It’s all the encouragement Tim needs to let the shame seep out so he can use his good hand to put the teether in his mouth, letting the ice soothe the worst of the ache. 

She approaches again, some supplies at hand. Tim knows that he should recognize the equipment but his brain is too rattled to make use of his training. He busies himself carefully chewing on the teether, Jason still rubbing his back, as Nurse Sharon prepares to inspect the rest of his owies. 

Jason smiles at him, supporting him even as Tim tenses up in anticipation. “I’ll be as gentle as I can,” Nurse Sharon says, surely noticing his apprehension. Tim tries to be brave, he really does, but it’s awfully hard to sit still when she holds his arm out and carefully prods at the tender flesh. “It does not seem to be broken, but I’ll call your Dad and have him take you to the doctor,” she explains. As much as Tim wants to see his Dad, the thought of having to go straight to the doctors office just makes another sob burst out of him. 

“I’m going to put your arm in a sling. Even if it’s a sprain it’ll be good for you to rest your arm, alright?” Tim nods, trying to be a good listener. 

Jason speaks up when it’s clear Tim is sniffling too much to use his words. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t use his arm.”

Another warm grin, “You’re such a good brother. Now, I’m going to take a quick look at your other arm and your knees, then I’ll give your Dad a call.” 

The rest goes a lot smoother, Tim only having minor scrapes on the rest of his limbs. With a few more superhero bandaids he is good to sit and wait for Daddy to come pick them up. Jason scooches back so he’s sitting against the wall, making it easier for Tim to pillow against his chest. The only disruption during their wait is when Jason’s teacher calls Nurse Sharon and asks him to come back to class. Even before Jason can beg to stay, Nurse Sharon explains that Bruce plans to pick them both up. Tim doesn’t know if that’s true, if Dad actually said that, but he’s grateful to her regardless. 

Tim’s loud sobs manage to lessen into the occasional sniffle by the time his Dad bursts through the door, carrying little Damian. “Daddy!” Tim whimpers, lifting his unhurt arm and opening and closing his hand in a silent ask to be picked up. Bruce doesn’t hesitate, rushing forward. He gently places Damian onto the cot, ensuring he’s secure, before scooping Tim up into his embrace, careful not to put pressure on his bad arm. Tim immediately curls into his hold, the tears welling up again now that his Daddy is here, finally here. 

“I’m here, baby,” he soothes, voice a low murmur. “I’ve got you. I’ll make it all better. I already called Dr. Leslie and she’ll see you as soon as we head out.” 

Jason shuffles forward and pulls Damian into his lap, preventing him from accidentally tumbling off the side of the cot and making a whole new disaster. The baby babbles at him, seemingly unaware of all the anxious energy around hims. Jason picks the pacifier up from where it’s dangling on a clip, attached to Dami’s onesie, before pressing the bulb into his mouth. Damian coos happily around the soother, snuggling into his lap. 

Bruce rocks Tim in his arms, small shushing sounds slipping out as he cries anew. “Shh, baby, I’ve got you. Daddy’s here now. It’s gonna be okay. I just have to sign you two out and then we’ll leave. It’s all going to be alright, sweetheart.” 

“Dad, wait,” Jason calls out before he can get too ahead of himself.  Dad reaches a hand out, carding through his hair, showing that he’s listening. “He was pushed. That mean teacher-”

“Miss Hanna,” Tim murmurs wetly around the teether, knowing this is important. Warmth spreads through him when his Dad presses a kiss to the side of his head in response. 

“Yeah,” Jason continues, voice steady, “Miss Hanna said that it was an accident but it wasn’t. I saw that kid push Timmy off the slide. He’s being bullied.”

Bruce lets out a very slow breath, “Oh, my baby, why didn’t you say anything?” Tim hides his face against his shoulder, ice teether clenched in his mouth. “I know you had that scuffle a couple months back, but you said it was a one off. My sweet boy, I’d never be upset with you for something like this. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” 

Tim doesn’t have an answer for him, at least not one that his Dad would want to hear. So he doesn’t say anything at all, snuffling against his shirt and waiting to go home. 

“I’m not mad at you, Timmy, I just want to help you. I…” he sighs. “I’ll talk with your principal and teacher tomorrow. Right now I want to focus on you and make sure you have everything you need to heal.” As much as it gives his tummy that anxious kind of sick feeling, he pushes it down. It’ll only kick up another round of sobs to worry about the meeting so Tim ignores it for now, relishing in his Dad’s comfort. He allows himself the greediness, needing his Daddy’s snuggles more than anything else.

Now that Dad is here, Tim can finally let go, no more pretending. Hiding his face against the crook of his neck, ignoring the way it presses against the ouchie on his chin, he lets Dad take care of everything. He doesn’t feel particularly big or brave, unable to keep himself from clinging with his one good arm. He hears Dad talking to Nurse Sharon, but he doesn’t pay enough attention to comprehend the words. He only lifts his head again when Dad asks, “Jay, can you carry Damian, please?” 

Jason agrees immediately, ever the good brother, and braces the toddler against his hip. Dami is small enough that even without Jason’s Robin training it would be easy to carry him around. Despite the guilt burbling in his tummy, Tim hides his face again. Dad carries him through the nurse’s office straight into the main office of the school, Nurse Sharon generously allowing him to keep the ice teether. Daddy says something to the lady at the desk about picking up their supplies tomorrow, confirming his suspicions that they will not be going to school the next day. He can’t help the tangible wave of relief seeping through his veins.

The vice principal stops them then, and Tim knows he shouldn’t, but he tunes out the conversation. He doesn’t want to hear about how cowardly he is, he just wants to be held. His Dad rubs his back soothingly as he cuts the man off and announces their departure. As soon as they’re outside, he soothes, “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll take care of everything. After Dr. Leslie gives you the all clear then we can go get some ice cream. How does that sound?” 

Tim tries to mumble a small yes, please, but his mouth is too owie. Dad doesn’t seem to mind, crooning at him gently no matter how pathetic he is. 

The problem arises once they arrive at the car. While Jason helps Damian into his car seat, the way Alfred taught him to, Tim white-knuckles Dad’s shirt the best he can with one arm still stuck in a stupid sling. “Daddy,” he whines, voice muffled by the teether, holding onto him as tightly as he can. 

“I know, baby, I’m sorry. I need to put you in the car seat, but I promise as soon as we get to Leslie’s I’ll hold you again. You’re doing such a good job, my strong boy.” Tim isn’t strong though, he's the biggest scary-cat in the whole world. All he’s doing is further proving what a terrible hero he’d be, too busy clinging to his Daddy to be of any help. “The office isn’t far, and you can pick out whatever music you’d like while we drive.”

But Tim doesn’t want music, he wants his Daddy. He’s not picky, but he just wants his Daddy. Tim doesn’t care about the music, or the owies, he just wants Daddy to hold him, please. He doesn’t have to be a doctor to make it better, but he’s still trying to pull him out of his embrace. Tim is helpless to the loud sob that rips out of him, tears smearing against the shirt, ruining that too. Just more laundry for him to burden Alfie with. 

Tim is no match for Batman and his Dad is able to peel him off and place him into the car seat, no matter how Tim tries to latch back on. He hates his arm for being too useless to hold on. “I’m sorry, I know it’s no fun sitting in the car seat. I promise, you can sit in my lap once we’re at Leslie’s. It’ll be so fast.” 

Tears stream down his face, the sobs only worsening the pain in his mouth. It’s all so stupid, if Tim wasn’t so pathetic then those boys wouldn’t have been mean to him and then none of this would have happened. Dad is undeterred by his pitiful cries, strapping him into the car seat and stepping back. He looks apologetic but that’s not enough when Tim is still trapped in the seat.

“‘immy sad?” Damian asks, the words coming out muffled around his pacifier, only further amplifying Tim’s humiliation. 

“Yeah, buddy, he’s a little sad right now,” Dad answers once he gets into the driver's seat. 

Damian, only a toddler, is already so much better than Tim is. “Hand?” He asks, holding out his hand and wiggling his little fingers. Dami asks again when Tim doesn’t respond right away, trying to stretch closer when the snug hold of his five-point harness keeps him contained. Still sniffling, he can’t deny the baby. Tim holds out his unhurt hand and Damian immediately latches onto two fingers, babbling happily now that he’s successfully provided him comfort. He’s not able to hold the teether to his lip when he’s holding Damian’s hand, but this is a comfort he doesn’t want to give up, even if it makes his lip throb more. 

Admittedly, it is a bit less lonely of a drive with Damian periodically squeezing his hand. Tim wishes that Jason could sit with him too, but with the way the car is set up he is stuck in the back seat. There’s not enough room for Jason, as well as two car seats in the front row. Jason doesn’t seem to mind, already picking up where he left off with the book he keeps in the car. Though Dad asks what music Tim would like to listen to, he merely shrugs, not wanting to make the wrong choice. Even so, Daddy puts on the soundtrack to his favorite musical, helping ease a bit of the tension from Tim’s chest. 

Despite what Dad said, it still feels like forever before they pull up in front of Leslie’s clinic. As soon as they’re parked, Dad is out of the car and helping Tim out of the car seat and into his arms. Jason does the same with Damian, bracing the toddler against his hip. Tim noses against his Dad’s neck, hiding what he can of his owies. He forgot the teether in his car seat, but it’s probably melted by now anyway.

As soon as they’re inside, Dr. Leslie is greeting them warmly. “Hello, dears, come sit and I’ll take a look at Tim.” 

Dr. Leslie always keeps some books in the clinic for children, so Jason settles Damian in his lap to read a picture book while Bruce sits on the medical cot with Tim still embraced in his arms. “He was pushed off the slide at school. The nurse didn’t think his arm was broken but I would still like to get an x-ray done.” 

“Of course. I will finish setting up and then we can do a full check-up.” 

Tim is allowed a couple more minutes to cuddle before he has to get up and actually be checked over. As disrespectful as it is, he can’t get himself to pay attention during any of Dr. Leslie’s tests. It ends up being Jason who brings up his chipped tooth, hidden when Tim stays silent. Thankfully, no one scolds him for refraining from mentioning the injury, commenting on how out of it he is, which only leads to a concussion test needing to be done. 

Eventually, Dr. Leslie agrees with Nurse Sharon. No concussion or broken bones, but his wrist really is sprained. Dr. Leslie doesn’t think there’s anything to be done about his chipped tooth. He simply has to wait until the baby tooth comes out naturally and his new one comes in. Tim will have to stay in a sling, apparently not for too long, though it still sounds like an eternity. It’s all good news, so she says, but Tim stays quiet all the same. He doesn’t even complain when the pain meds she gives him are yucky. 

Tim barely manages to mumble out a thank you before Dr. Leslie must decide that he’s a lost cause because she then turns towards his brothers. “Jason and Damian, would you mind helping me with something?” Both boys agree immediately, and then Tim is left behind. 

Dad scoops him up and places him in his lap, as if Tim deserves the comfort. It’s all his own fault. If he could just stand up for himself then Daddy never would have had to leave work and drag them all here. “Timmy,” he murmurs, a hand coming to cup his cheek. “What’s on your mind?”

“Daddy, ‘m sorry,” he blurts out, unable to keep the words contained any longer, no matter how it makes his mouth ache.

“What are you sorry for?” He asks, as if he could possibly not know. His Dad is the world's greatest detective, Tim shouldn’t have to spell it out for him.

And yet, he still waits for an answer, no matter how much Tim squirms nervously. “I- I shoulda handled it. ‘M supposed to be- you’re training me to be a hero, but ‘m just a scaredy-cat.”

“You are not a scaredy-cat,” Dad refutes immediately. “Getting hurt does not mean you’re any less of a hero. I’ve gotten hurt on patrol and you still think I’m a hero.”

“But that’s different,” Tim exclaims, loud enough to ache against his sore mouth. “You’re a real hero, ‘m just me. ‘M not even a vigilante.”

“You don’t have to be. Being Tim is enough.”

The tears spill over, and Tim doesn’t know how he hasn’t run out yet. “But I wanna help people. Like Dickie, and Cass, and Jay, and you. I don’t wanna just be Tim,” he spits the name out, unable to stop the venom from seeping through the chip of his tooth. It’s a lot harder to bite back his words now.

“Why not?” Dad asks, ever so gently, brows furrowed. 

“‘M nothing but a big baby.”

“Who told you that?”

Tim isn’t a complete dummy, he knows what he’s doing. “Nobody.”

“Sweetheart, you are not in trouble. I would never be upset with you for having issues with the kids at school. You can always talk to me, no matter what it is.”

“Daddy, they’re so mean,” he sobs, unable to face him head on anymore. He hides his face once again, pillowed against his chest. It’s barely been a few hours and Tim already hates the sling. He wants to hold on tight enough that his Daddy can’t let him go again, no matter how pathetic he is. “I- I don’t even know what I did ‘n they hate me. I try to do what you say, but Daddy they won’t stop.” The confession is all tearful and snotty, further exemplifying what a childish little coward he is.  

“It’s not your fault,” Dad soothes, carding through his shield, “It is never your fault for being bullied.”

Hearing that word just makes him bawl harder, hating how babyish he’s being. 

Daddy stays so gentle. “I will make sure that this never happens again. I’m so sorry I failed to keep you safe, Timmy. I swear to you, I will not stop until I can help make it better. I love you, sweetheart, you and your siblings are my entire world.”

Tim doesn’t have the words. He’s sure he will, eventually, but for now he’s just so grateful for his Daddy’s arms around him. Dad doesn’t complain, even when all the crying reopens the wound on his lip and he gets blood on his shirt. They’re all going to need new outfits and Tim hates the burden that he is. 

He continues after pressing a kiss to his temple, “I’m here now, and I’ll do whatever I can to protect you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.” 

Tim realizes then, that he wasn’t entirely alone. Not the whole time, at least. He had Jason. Somehow, his brother had come to him, even when Miss Hanna tried to shoo him off. Tim doesn’t know how to thank him, but he will, if not once Jason and Dami come back then later. He’ll have to ask how he got to his side of the play yard— if he actually hopped the fence.

“Love you, Daddy,” Tim mumbles, when he doesn’t know what else to say. He’s so tired, now limp in Dad’s arms.

“I love you too, Timmy, so so much.” 

They continue cuddling, Daddy running his fingers through his hair, until Dr. Leslie comes back in. “Jason and Damian were excellent helpers. They assisted me in tracking down some lollipops and stickers.” 

Jason bounds forward then, three lollipops in one fist as his other arm remains wrapped around Damian, keeping the baby braced on one hip. Damian is clutching some stickers, wrinkling them in the process. “Here,” Jason says with a toothy grin, “You can pick first.” 

Tim only hesitates for a moment before grabbing the red lollipop. “Thank you,” he mumbles, shy when faced with Jason’s dazzling smile. He has so much more to thank him for, but he’ll wait until there’s less of an audience. 

“Wait until we get home to open the suckers and then you can have them. I don’t want to risk you choking in the car,” Dad speaks up, to no one's surprise. Tim and all of his siblings know just how protective he is, and they are fully aware of his opinions on eating in the car, no matter how old they get. Tim understands why Dami can’t eat in the car, he’s only a baby, but the rest of them are big kids. He won’t argue though, not wanting to get in trouble when he’s already oversensitive and all raw feeling.

“How about we go pick up Dick and Cass and then all of us can go out for ice cream as a family?” Dad suggests upon Damian’s tearful pout. “What do you think?” It’s clear he’s addressing Tim alone this time, hyperaware of his every twitch and microexpression. 

“That’s a good idea,” he decides. As embarrassing as it’ll be for his big siblings to see the evidence of his failure, he’d rather it happen when they go do something fun than to be confronted at home. He puts the lollipop in his pocket and Jason does the same with his and Dami’s candy. It’s hard to be disappointed to wait to eat the lollipops when ice cream is even yummier. Plus, the cold treat will likely be easier on his ouchie lip than a lollipop will. Daddy probably already thought of that though.

“Okay, then does anyone have to go potty before we head out?” Once everyone confirms that they don’t have to go, as well as checking that Dami’s diaper is dry, they thank Dr. Leslie and then head out. This time when Dad puts him into his car seat, Tim doesn’t cry at all. He’d mostly forgotten about his teether now, so Dad puts it away and instead encourages him to use one of his car toys. There’s a bag on the floor filled with activities and toys for them to occupy themselves with while in the car, and though it doesn’t always ease their restlessness, it definitely helps. There’s a variety of fidgets and quiet activities for Tim, Dami, and Jason to choose from,

Music on, Tim plays with a pop-it while Damian fiddles with the stuffed animal attached to his car seat. Jason is almost always reading in the car, blessed to not have to deal with motion sickness. When Dad dials the high school, Tim doesn’t pay much attention to the conversation. Daddy must be alerting the teachers that he’s picking up Dick and Cass early.

The drive is long enough that by the time they arrive, Dick and Cass are already waiting outside for them. Cass hops into the front seat while Dick crawls into the back, settling beside Jason, their usual spots.

“What happened to you?” Dick asks, Cass turning around in her seat to analyze and catalog every single owie marring his skin. He squirms under their gaze, knowing they’re unlikely to judge but embarrassed nonetheless. Tim shrugs, staring out the window as humiliated tears spring into his eyes. 

Jason speaks up, about to reveal what has become a terrible, open secret, but Dad cuts him off. “There was an incident at school. Timmy will be alright, but I thought it would be nice for us all to go out for ice cream as a family.” There’s more to be said, always is, but his oldest siblings take the underlying warning in stride. The topic drops as Dick begins sharing stories from his day, clearly trying to lighten the mood. Tim catches Cass’ eye in the rear view mirror and he knows that she knows. She always does.

He wishes that he could still hold Damian’s hand. 

There’s an ice cream shoppe not too far from home that they tend to frequent. The owner is the perfect mixture of in-awe of Bruce Wayne to respect them while not being creepy or obsessive. She’s always kind, adding extra toppings even though she knows Dad can pay. He always tips her well though, so it balances out. She has all of their usual orders memorized, though she always gives them the opportunity to explore something new if that’s what they desire. Tim always forgets her name, and he thinks that she’s aware, but she’s always kind to him either way.

There are not too many other cars in the parking lot, which is part of why they prefer this particular shoppe. Tim doesn’t need to ask, Dad knows. Once they’re parked, he once again scoops him out of the car seat and into Daddy’s arms, pressing a kiss against the side of his head in the process. This time, Dick picks up Damian, bouncing the toddler and eliciting an excited giggle. Cass joins in, making silly faces that somehow get both Dami and Tim smiling. Jason bounds forward, pulling the heavy door open for them like a little gentleman. Alfred would be proud.

The shoppe always smells like waffle cones, and despite the ache of his lip and tooth, he can’t help his excitement. There’s nothing that helps cool the residual discomfort of a bad crying fit like an ice cream sundae. 

“Welcome!” The shop owner calls out, a smile dazzling enough to compare to Dick’s. There’s none of that fakeness though, like his family shows the press. “Take your time looking at the menu and I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to order.” 

“You’re all welcome to get whatever you’d like. I already told Alfred our plans and he said to bring him home some sorbet.” That subtle permission helps ease any lingering guilt Tim may have had. It’s no secret that Alfred prefers them to have dessert after supper, but since it’s only a little after lunch time, they still have a good few hours until then. Tim is so lucky, able to have ice cream with his family even when he’s done nothing to earn it. “I mean it,” Dad lowers his voice, talking just to him, “You can get whatever you’d like, even the biggest sundae they have to offer.” 

Tim nods, gratitude overflowing as he scans the menu. While he does have his normal go-to cone, if he’s permitted to get a sundae then he wants to be greedy. While Dad has never forbade them from getting whatever treat they fancy, it’s not normally like this. There are plenty of yummy options, and he hears his siblings discussing their own choices, but the one Tim’s eyes keep drawing back to is the brownie sundae. It’s two scoops with whip cream, chocolate sauce, cherries, and sprinkles. Even though Alfred says that sprinkles have no flavor, Tim likes them. They make the whip cream all colorful and pretty. 

“Are there any flavors you guys would like to try?” The owner asks, her smile as kind and patient as she always is. Damian starts babbling something so rapidly that not even Batman could understand. He knows several words, but he’s still young enough that his vocabulary can often be interlaced with baby babbles. 

Jason hops forward, standing on his tip toes to see all the different flavors displayed before him. “Can I try the chocolate cherry, please?” He asks, always eager to experiment. The owner never fails to give them generous samples, filling the tiny spoon so much that it looks about to fall, but it never does. “Yum,” he hums, licking the spoon clean. “Dad, can I order?” 

“Whenever you’re ready. Does everyone else know what they’d like?” Dad asks, looking towards Tim and all of his siblings. He always orders for Damian, so that’s easy, and Dick tends to always get the same thing. It’s just Tim now. He needs to pick a flavor so he doesn’t hold up his family with his indecisiveness. 

While Dick gives his assent, Cass says, “I’m still deciding. I need another minute, please.” Tim has an internal sigh of relief. If she’s also not ready to order then he doesn’t have to rush and end up with a bad flavor. Tim knows it’s not a big deal, it’s only ice cream, but he also knows that if he accidentally got something yucky that he wouldn’t be able to hold the tears back, proving what a big baby he is. Tim looks at his sister, meeting her gaze, and he realizes that she knows. Of course she does, she knows he hates being the odd one out. She’ll wait until he decides to make her order all so he doesn’t have to be alone. Affection swells in him and for a moment, he wishes he were standing on his own two feet so he could go over and give her a hug. He smiles at her instead, and she grins back, just as warm. 

Without the looming pressure, Tim is actually able to look at all the available flavors and there’s some brand new ones that he would have missed otherwise. There are all new superhero inspired ice creams! They have Robin ice cream now! It’s confetti ice cream with cookie dough pieces, brownie chunks, and extra special-shaped sprinkles mixed in. Tim is not picky, but this is the one he really wants. 

He bets it’ll be so yummy with the rest of the brownie sundae that he doesn’t even need to try it first. “Daddy, ‘m ready,” he mumbles, listening to Dick order his usual double scoop cone of bubblegum ice cream and mint chocolate chip. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Do you want to order or do you want me to order for you?” Tim likes when he leaves it open, deciding if he wants to be brave or if he’s feeling too shy. 

“I can do it,” he decides. He glances back over at Cass, and her smile helps give him the courage to tell the owner his order, even with an owie mouth. After he’s done, then Dad orders for both himself and for Damian, the baby only getting a kiddie scoop since his tummy is much smaller than his eyes. Cass orders a milkshake as well as Alfred’s sorbet and with that, they’re able to sit down and wait for their treats to come out. There’s a table with enough chairs for their entire family and Tim can’t help but wonder if that’s on purpose. 

Settled in his Daddy’s lap, he cuddles up, careful not to put pressure on his bad arm. Cass and Dick (Damian in his lap) sit on either side of him, Jason across, and once they go home to Alfred, he’ll have his whole family. It’s like a soothing balm, knowing that even if they don’t have the context, his family doesn’t hesitate to stay at his side. I love you, Tim wants to say. He could, and they wouldn’t tease him for being so sappy, but it’s also nice to stay snuggled against his Dad’s chest.

When their orders are placed on the counter, ready to be eaten, Cass and Jason go to grab them, allowing Dami and Tim to stay settled in their prospective laps. Adoration swells, perhaps undeserved but Tim is greedy all the same.

“Okay,” Dad says, “Let’s head on out so we can get home before the ice cream melts.” Perhaps the best thing about the shop really is how close it is to the Manor, their treats hardly melted by the time his Daddy is bracing him against his hip and carrying him inside the house, Damian still held by Dick. 

Alfred greets them right away, and Tim can’t help but wonder how much he knows. “Hello, dear ones.” He smiles at them, no judgment in his tone despite the amount of sugar they’re all about to consume before supper. “I thought a movie might be in order. I took the liberty of preparing the den.”

“That’ll be perfect, thank you. Dick and Cass, would you help take the desserts to the den while I help the little ones change?” Jason must really be in a good mood because he doesn’t complain at all about Daddy referring to him as one of the little ones. Both his eldest siblings agree immediately. Dick hands Damian to Alfred and then he’s able to help balance all of the treats without dropping them. 

Just before they part ways, Tim turns his attention towards Alfred. “Alfie,” he calls out, ignoring the way his mouth stings. “Are you gonna watch with us?”

His smile is as warm as it is fond. “As you wish, dear boy.” 

With that, Alfred offers to change Damian’s soggy diaper while Jason runs off to go change his sweatshirt, leaving Tim alone with his Daddy. He’s grateful for the one-on-one attention. Dad carries him upstairs, allowing him to pick out some cozy pajamas before he picks a new outfit for himself. Tim is instructed to go potty and then Dad can help him get changed, mindful of the sling. Once he’s relieved himself and washed his good hand, Daddy is right there, waiting for him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He asks, setting Tim back in his lap, his favorite place to be. 

He’s about to shrug, but thinks better of it at the last second, his earlier words ringing through his brain. “‘M okay, hurts a bit. But Daddy, am I gonna have to go back to school tomorrow?” Though he’d be surprised if he did have to, he needs to know. He’ll never be able to enjoy their movie night if he’s worried about Nicky and Isaac the whole time. 

Dad doesn’t hesitate. “No, neither you or Jason will go back until I get this whole situation sorted. I will not send you somewhere where I can not guarantee your safety.” He takes a breath before continuing. “It’s not just about the bullying, it’s about your teacher neglecting to protect you. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” 

The niggling sick feeling in his tummy eases then, reassured by his Daddy’s resolute protectiveness. It may be cowardly of him, but he’s beyond relieved. Tim knows that it’s not very heroic of him to go crying to his Daddy, but he’s so sick of being scared. 

“I love you, Daddy,” he says again, because that’s a lot less intimidating than thanking him for continuing to take care of him no matter how much of a scaredy-cat he is. Dad says it back right away, unadulterated affection shining through.

With that settled, Dad helps him into his jammies, careful of his sling. Now that he’s in fresh clothes he finally feels clean, it’s a relief so stark that he can’t help but once again fall lax into his Daddy’s embrace. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop him into his arms, carrying him back downstairs. Entering the den, there’s so many blankets strewn across the plush couches that it’s practically a nest, perfectly cozy. Tim stays settled in his Daddy’s lap and Dick hands him his ice cream. Somehow, as if by magic, the ice cream has barely melted while the brownie has stayed warm. 

He recognizes the previews as soon as they start. His siblings chose one of his favorite movies, even without him having to ask. He takes big bites of his sundae, the cold soothing against his owie lip, as he watches the familiar scenes play out across the screen.

Tim knows that he’ll need to talk about the scary things later, but he is allowed to wait. Once he’s finished his sundae, he’s allowed to lay down, head in his Daddy’s lap, and just enjoy the movie. His Dad will help him figure out the rest tomorrow. For now, he relishes in the hands carding through his hair, relaxing into his gentle touch.