Work Text:
Timothy Drake has always been a genius. It's how he learns at the age of five that he can be a bit much sometimes.
His parents had just come back from a gala, and he had built a pillow fort that took him ages. He had run up to the door when they came, jumping up and down because look there's even a place for all of us to sit down and put the laptop and watch a documentary if you want it can be about the dig you're going to do next week and-
“God, Timothy, do you ever just shut up?”
He doesn't even remember if it was his mother or father that said The Sentence. All he knows is that he thinks of his life as before and after The Sentence.
Before, he'd been a not-so-bright child; he'd wanted his parents to cater to him. To love him and to pay him attention, without him having to earn it through careful planning. So painfully naive.
After, he'd understood that that's how parents treat their regular, well-adjusted children. His parents had no choice but to be different because they had to deal with him. With his talkative self and annoying rants and hyperactive body.
His father had once — on a very rare occasion where he was the one babysitting Tim because Tim's nannies (the main one and the reserve one) had called in sick — told him, “Brave men are ones who take initiative. That’s what I did. And what do the fuckers do? Still not grant us the permit for the dig. Fucking good for nothing country, honestly, we're doing them a favor bla bla bla bla bla.”
Okay, Tim can admit he has a bit of a problem with his attention span. But! Still! He got the important bits.
So, Tim meticulously crafts a secret identity. Like a superhero! Around people, he plans to be brave and likeable and a blank slate for other people's interests and he plans to shapeshift into their Dream Conversation Partner™. Alone, he can be annoying and talkative and he can flap his arms when he gets excited (what are you, Tim, a monkey? this would never fly at a gala get yourself together) and he can be himself.
However much of a weirdo that is.
He sits in his pillow fort (a new, more advanced one. The old one had crumbled down because it didn't have enough support. Rookie mistake) and comes up with guidelines for his mission, like any respectable superhero would do. After a few days of planning, he finalises his plan and presents it to Mr. Jack, his teddy bear. His mom had once caught a three-year-old Tim talking to him and burst out laughing at his childhood antics, but Tim has seen Toy Story, so he obviously knew better.
Anyway, Make Tim More Likeable — MTML for short — sounded way too uncool. He settles on naming his operation Mission Maximumly, because it contains all the letters for the mission’s objective, and because he wants to make people enjoy his company the maximum they could. He wants to make the maximum number of people possible love him.
(Truthfully, Tim would be okay with even just one person's love. He'd even accept a living thing, a pet or a stray or something that breathes and feels. Someone, anyone, please anyone, big or small or old or young or-)
It's practically a foolproof plan. Tim is really a genius.
Tim had grown up quite a bit, and that means he's quite capable of taking on more missions, and so at nine, he takes on the mission Protecting the Protectors. Obviously, he's quite aware that his skinny, gangly self isn't protecting Batman and Robin from far away with only a camera to his name, but. Well. Not that Tim is a kid or anything, but he still enjoys cool things, and the name sounded cool as heck.
Tim keeps himself scarce, tries not to get noticed and succeeds (one of his secret powers is stealthiness, he thinks. It's how one time his parents came back home and stayed overnight, and then packed up and left again without even noticing his presence and saying hi to him). When he notices the death of Robin, though, Jason Todd as he's come to learn through his other secret power (detectiveness? detectivability? He's gonna have to look this up when he gets home), he decides to step in.
He introduces himself to Batman — Bruce Wayne — and just. Refuses to leave him alone. Bruce is self-destructing, so Tim has to Protect the Protector more than ever before.
As expected, because of course Tim is not naive enough to get his hopes up after seeing the love Mr. Wayne gives his adopted sons, Tim gets pushed away. It's all the better though, because Tim has plenty of experience dealing with people who don't want him, and he could really use a brand new subject for his Mission Maximumly.
Thing is, though, Mr. Wayne gives him nothing to work with. He gets a Hn and a Hm and, on rare occasions, a Hngh, but beyond that every word he speaks is strictly Robin related. Tim can't be a blank sheet of paper displaying ink written by others because Mr. Wayne just refuses to hold the pen. It forces Tim to be the one to reach out, always. It leaves Tim in a very complex predicament: compromising his lifelong mission for a shorter, more temporary one. He doesn't think Bruce would ever compromise Batman for anything, but he's no Bruce.
Whatever. Point is. He needs to start talking again, letting annoying bits and pieces of his secret identity peak out again just enough to gauge a reaction from Bruce, and then once he figures out how he'd like Tim to act he will craft him the perfect persona.
God, he really is a genius.
Timothy Drake is absolutely not a genius.
Bruce Wayne is an insanely tough man to figure out. It's obvious having Jason back would make him happier, but it's not like Tim can resurrect him. He catches Bruce with his lips turned up whenever Dick is mentioned, but then speaking to Dick causes him more sadness than ever, so Tim gives up on that particular lead.
Slowly, Bruce seems to be talking more, though. He reached a high score this week where he spoke seventeen full sentences to Tim (four of these were Batman scolding him, but a sentence is a sentence, whatever). Tim doesn't know what it is that's helping so he can do more of it. He's speaking his mind nowadays, letting his rambling take over the suffocating silence that's always there between them, hyperaware of Bruce's every reaction, his every grunt, his every sigh.
Still, he must be not as genius as he once thought himself to be, because for the life of him he just cannot figure it out.
He really isn't a genius; because years later he will find out he was the reason Bruce got better. He was the reason Bruce found something to live for again that's not just hurting avenging almost-but-never-quite murdering. In the present, though, all Tim knows is that he’s failing in his mission. He's a replacement, and replacements are temporary because they're never quite as sturdy as the real stuff, so he needs to quickly find how Bruce's Mind™ works so he can wrap this up and leave Bruce with a semi-fond memory of him. A bit ambitious, a bit too hopeful, but hey, Tim believed his parents’ promises that they'd be home for the next holiday up until he turned eight. It's a personality trait. He'll fix it after he fixes Bruce.
Jason has come back from the dead, and he's angry. He calls Tim a replacement and beats him bloody in the Titan's Tower, which frankly is quite rude. First of all, this is Tim's hero, what the fuck? Way to ruin someone's hopes — he swears he worked on that, he doesn't even expect Alfred to tell him to stay in the guest room in the manor when he's very badly injured. Turns out he really needs more practice in Not Hoping. Ugh. Whatever. Second of all, Tim knows he's a replacement. A placeholder. So, pray tell, why is he being brutalised for holding the place?! Jason could've just taken the place back, no punches needed.
Except Jason never asks for the place back. He seems to be really sticking to the Red Hood, and he knows better — he really, really does know better — but still, Tim feels a flame of hope ignite in his chest again.
Maybe he can keep this?
Well, let it be said for the millionth time that Tim Drake is not at all a genius.
Again with him and hoping.
Damian Wayne is introduced to Bruce's life, his biological son, and Tim is fired so Robin's mantle can be Damian's.
Hey, Tim's not completely stupid. He knew he was a placeholder. He just didn't expect it to be for a little spoiled brat instead of Jason. He's adaptable, though. Always has been.
He gives the title up, takes on the title Red Robin instead. He's a bit fucked up in the head like that. A tribute to Red Hood, his former childhood hero who almost killed him, and Robin, his childhood dream that was so abruptly taken from him, never truly his.
Cut him some slack. When you don't have anyone at home or at school to attach yourself like a leech to, and when your mentor refuses to give you even a sliver of affection. Well. You get attached to dumb stuff. Mr. Jack still sleeps next to him, on the rare occasions Tim sleeps.
However, to his absolute shock, Bruce isn't prepared to let him go very easily. He understood where Bruce was coming from, Tim has no one now that his parents are dead, but Tim is self-sufficient. Very much so, too. He has been ever since his parents decided his nanny was asking for too much money (definitely because they're rich, not at all because they're home once every three months or so) and fired her.
He really did develop genius-guy skills as he's grown up, though. He deduces that because Tim is within Bruce’s kids’ age range, Bruce feels a sense of obligation towards Tim.
So, new mission. Tim hasn't had long term ones in a while. All his Red Robin ones get completed quickly by him and the bats. He brainstorms for a while and his sleep deprived brain comes up with Mission Bye Bye. Not his best work, admittedly, but he hasn't slept in 32 hours — cut him some slack.
Plan A: Recruit Damian. Bruce is so very worried about poor Damian who grew up being trained to be a weapon and not a person, and Tim pounces. He starts overplaying his role in Bruce's life around Damian, as well as his contributions to Batman's operations, so the little demon brat can get jealous and ask Bruce to kick him out.
It works, of course; Tim isn't called a genius for nothing. Self-called genius, technically. Whatever. Point is, Damian starts trying to kill him out of jealousy.
Against all odds, though, Bruce starts… lecturing Damian? He scolds him for hurting Tim, taking it as a learning moment for what actions are or are not acceptable to do even when mad.
Tim waits for Bruce to lecture him about provoking Damian, to ask him to stay somewhere “just for a couple of days” until the tensions diffuse, but Bruce does no such thing. Even when sometimes Bruce is around to hear the exaggerations of Tim's role in his life, the Batman absolutely needs mes and the god I'm the smartest detective in this rooms, the I even made Batman himself a better detectives and the Bruce just can't live a day without mes, he doesn't bother with correcting Tim not even once.
Huh, okay. Onto plan B.
Plan B: Prove Himself Responsible. He starts waking up before 10 A.M. (honestly, he deserves a medal for that one. If that doesn't prove how determined he is, he doesn't know what will), making his own coffee (no breakfast because he's a bit terrified of going against Alfred's wishes of family breakfast) and opening his laptop for important work.
By important work, he means cases. He knows he's almost done with school so he must take it more seriously, but, genuinely, who the hell cares. He's smarter than whatever they teach there anyways.
Except, it backfires horribly. Like Catastrophic Level Horribly. Because Bruce sees all this effort and instead of praising his ability to self manage (who is Tim kidding, Bruce would just let out grunt #7), he decides to appoint Tim the CEO of Wayne Enterprises once he graduates.
Huh. Onto plan C, he guesses.
Plan C: Stop Being Helpful. This one's hard, because it goes against everything he's been training for since the age of five. It completely defies every protocol of Mission Maximumly, his mission since he was five. He's adaptable, though.
Tim's thought process for this one is the more of a bum he is, the more Bruce will not want him around. If Tim's not an asset — if he's not solving a case or taking down a criminal or helping someone feel better about themselves then what good is he for?
Tim ignores the small voice in his head screaming nothing over and over again. This is an objective mission, the hell. No time for self pity, dude in my head.
So, Tim does a complete 180. Where he previously would've woken up early to seem productive, he stays asleep until afternoon. He not only misses family breakfasts, which leads to Alfred giving him the cold shoulder, but also narrowly misses lunch every day.
(In Tim's humble opinion he shouldn't even be invited, anyways. Sure, he's family on paper, but he's sure it makes Bruce feel even more obligated to keep him around when he sees him dining right next to his actual kids every day.)
He knows it's Alfred, not Bruce, that cleans up after him, so he makes sure not to do anything like leaving dirty laundry all over the place. What he can do, though, is mess up the Batcave imperceptibly, in a way only him and Bruce would notice.
Sure enough, Bruce goes berserk over Tim's Little Adjustments™. As in, his eyes twitch and every single one of his knuckles gets cracked.
However, against all laws of nature, Bruce starts approaching Tim even more. He starts with I'd like your input on this, which he knows Tim can't resist, then escalates to Are you ill with something and eventually I'm here if you want to talk about anything troubling you.
Tim is seriously getting whiplash. This is the way Bruce talks to his sons — the real ones — not him. What is going on, here?
Okay. No more playing around. Initiating plan D, also known as Plan Drastic measures.
Plan D: Make Bruce Hate Him. There's a reason this plan is at the very end. The thing is, Tim genuinely loves Bruce. He, in his nightmares, calls out Dad to him and him only. He calls for Bruce to save him, to love him, to hold him and defend him from the villains that plague his mind during his darkest hours.
Even when he's awake, he yearns to climb into Bruce's lap like sometimes Damian does. To feel Bruce's hands stroking his hair reverently, with so much love, the way Jason gets to feel them. To experience the press of Bruce's lips against his hair, like Cass does. To hear Bruce's words of appreciation said out loud, the way Dick does. Gruff, awkward words of love, but ones of love nonetheless.
Tim has by now learned not to hope. Not to get too ambitious, even in his dreams where it's just him and his deepest desires. Tim knows Bruce is now mildly fond of him, the way one is fond of a stray animal who they're so annoyed won't leave them alone but is still just a poor, helpless little stray.
Unfortunately, desperate times call for desperate measures. Tim starts acting out the way he has never done before. He challenges and questions every decision Bruce makes — as himself or as Batman. In public and in private. In front of WE's shareholders and in front of Bruce's family members.
He starts defying orders. He starts slamming doors. He starts screaming fuck offs and leave me alones and on one particular incident: I Hate You. You're Not My Father.
It had been a regular patrol night (the new regular, filled with Batman's and Red Robin's back and forth arguments — not fond banter like Tim had so desperately wanted to have back when he was Robin — but real, savage feuds) when shit hit the fan.
Tim had been so riled up about Batman scolding him so harshly on the comms again. Fine, he’d taken an unnecessary risk that could’ve gotten him killed, but he’s literally a vigilante. His job is literally a risk in of itself. Boo-fucking-hoo, Bruce would’ve felt bad a kid died under his watch again. Except Tim wasn’t his kid, so why the fuck is he overreacting like this.
Jason and Dick had both tuned in to the comms, both bored because slow nights just suck. Either commit multiple crimes and let me have my fun, or just don't commit anything at all and let me sleep at home, seriously.
He could just envision Jason and Damian's teasing (not really teasing. He knows they mean every harsh word they say. He gets it, really. They both feel as though he took something from them. It's just so unfair because he's trying so fucking hard to give it back, though. He's trying and for fuck's sake it's just not working what more is he supposed to do). Dick would be nicer about it, try to approach it with humor to diffuse the shit mood, which literally no one on planet Earth asked him to do.
He'd wanted so badly to hurt Bruce, to reply with a comeback good enough for his sib- his fellow vigilantes to not talk about how Tim got absolutely humiliated. And so he steeled himself, screamed, “What the actual fuck is your problem? Why are you so fucking overbearing? It's none of your business what I do, or did you forget I got fired from being your fucking sidekick?! I hate you! You're not even my dad! So fuck off and stop suffocating me!”
He faintly registered the gasps and then the unbearable silence that came after his outburst. Silence silence silence, the silence like that in the Drake Manor, the silence that encompassed your soul and left you contemplating speaking up just to hear your own voice. To confirm you exist.
When they'd gotten to the Batcave, Batman had just headed straight to the showers without even glancing back. He'd spent a long, long time in there, and Tim had figured he'd gotten upset at the I Hate You. Because he'd heard it from his real sons before: from Dick and Jason, and surely Tim saying it triggered some bad memories.
Tim was a genius, yes, but never when it came to emotions. It never occurred to him that what devastated Bruce, what left him crying in the showers and later in his room for hours on end, what left him not eating and not sleeping and not functioning, really, was the fact that Tim had just told him that Bruce is not his dad.
After a couple of days of tense silence, Tim hears a knock at his door. Even his sib- even Bruce's children haven't come up to speak to him, only Alfred, so he hesitantly calls out come in, because as much as he'd like to be alone now, he can't find it within himself to be rude to Alfred, of all people.
Bruce's gaze meets his, and he looks genuinely devastated. He looks the way he looked back when Tim first met him, lost and grieving and aching, and Tim wants so badly to take his words back, the I Hate You that he didn't mean, and shove it down his throat until it no longer sees the light of day.
“Tim, I… I wanted to apologise. I know when you offered to be Robin, you weren't looking for a father figure. I wasn't looking for a son either. I know we came to arrangement but I-,” he pauses, seems to reconsider his words, and then continues, “I worry about you as much as I worry about my other kids, and I understand now that it has never been what you signed up for. I've come to see you as my own, but that is my burden, not yours. I promise to be more professional with you, going forward, and I'm really sorry for making you uncomfortable.”
“You didn't make me uncomfortable at all, Bruce! I'm really sorry for making you think that,” Tim replies, because he can’t have Bruce think this is his fault, not for one second. He takes a breath, says, “And I’m so sorry for saying i hate you, I really, really don't. It's just- of course you see me as your responsibility, I've been under your care for many years. Even legally, I'm your obligation. The thing is, though, I'm really trying to free you of that. I've been trying, I swear. But you're not helping. You won't kick me out or let me leave even through I can totally take of myself. I've taken care of myself for so long and it's all I've ever known and I'd be fine. I'd be fine so just let me, please, for both of our sakes.
“Really, I get it. I love you but we’re not that way, I'm not your son like the others and I get it. I get it, I swear. But it's so tiring being an intruder, all the time, and pretending there's a place for me here. I'm so grateful, Bruce, truly, but it's time-”
Tim gets cut off by Bruce, who blurts, “Tim. You're my son. Even if you don't consider me your father, you're my son."
And Tim's life completely shifts, everything he's ever known changes, his heart stops beating and then starts up again because he's Bruce's son. He can't keep the words from coming, can't stop himself from asking, "I- I am?"
"Of course you are, Tim. I love you just as much as I love my other children," comes Bruce's reply, and he sounds so sure, he's not messing with Tim at all. He continues, "I love you because you have the biggest heart I know and because you’re funny and lovely. I love when you come to me for help, and also when you solve things on your own because it just reminds me how brilliant you are. I love when you're happy and you light up like the sky, and when you're grumpy and you look like a kitten. I love everything about you, Tim, from your caffeine addiction to your awful pizza topping choices-”
Tim interjects, because this is his honor on the line here, “Hey! Artichoke hearts are yummy and healthy.” There are tears rolling down his cheeks, and he's trying to wipe them but they're coming too fast, and his breath is hitching because Bruce loves him, his dad loves him, he's loved, someone loves him, finally, finally.
Bruce reaches a hand to wipe his tears for him and Tim just lurches forward and into Bruce's lap, he curls up and feels Bruce stroke his hair, he hears words of love muttered into his hair in between kisses to his head and it's everything he's ever dreamed of.
Months later, he remembers Mission Maximumly again. He remembers that it's been a long time since he's enacted its protocols. Since he's torn himself into little shreds, later woven into jumbled messes catering to the tastes of the people around him. Since he's censored every part of his personality, his wants, his needs, his quirks.
He guesses it's okay to scrap the mission, though. Its objective has already been fulfilled. The little boy searching so desperately for love can finally rest; he has more than enough people that love him, now.